Part 1 was here. This is
still part of the daily posting
streak I have openly committed to and standard disclaimers still
apply. Just as in my original
post, back to the flip side — let’s see what I have to do to
write fiction to my own satisfaction. And this time I have a
guide: the list I made in the first part of this post. Could I create
fiction I would enjoy reading?
1: I enjoy calling things before they happen…
2: …I also enjoy the Reveal for questions when the author has done
something clever I didn’t catch…
Well, obviously, I can’t predict things in my own plot. But I can
develop riddles in the plot, set up expectations and drop subtle clues
and use Chekhov’s Tropes. Can I?
I’m going to do it again! I’m going to break a post into parts to
milk it for the daily posting
streak. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
This is mostly a self-analysis post though.
WARNING:
This
post contains many, many TVTropes links. If you are like me and need
to be productive but are
liable
to being sucked into TVTropes, maybe you should find a way to commit
to not clicking on any of these links, or just stop reading. The
obligatory xkcd is kind of long and
also featured on one of the TVTropes links I’ve already made, so I’m not
going to embed it.
I blogged about this before in
2013 — how I felt that the analysis trained into me by English class
was dulling my ability to appreciate and write the types of fiction I
really enjoyed. After thinking about it I realized the mismatch goes
deeper than that. Because the things I seek the most in fiction are
escapism and entertainment. I like simple fiction with obvious (though
maybe not
that
obvious)
Aesops
and extreme economy of characters via making all the reveals being of
the form “X and Y are the same person” (which does not quite seem to be
a trope but may be an occurrence of
Connected
All Along, with the most famous subtrope being
Luke,
I Am Your Father (which is
a
misquote!), and is also one common
Stock
Epileptic Tree, so maybe this isn’t the best example), because not
only are such reveals fun, they make the plot simpler. What can I say,
it works.
The qualities of being thought-provoking or heartwarming are only
bonuses for me; needless
complexity
in the number of characters or plots is a strict negative. Sorry, I
don’t want to spend effort trying to remember which person is which and
how a hundred different storylines relate to each other if they don’t
build to a convincing, cohesive, and awesome
Reveal,
and often not even then. And I like closure, so I feel pretty miserable
when writers
resolve a
long-awaited plot point just to add a bunch more. Because of this I
am ambivalent about long book series; most of my favorite works of
fiction have come in long series but starting a new one always gives me
Commitment
Anxiety. Even when there’s closure, when I finish an immersive movie
or book I’m always left kind of disoriented, like I’ve just been lifted
out of a deep pool and have to readjust to breathing and seeing the
world from the perspective of a normal person on land. I like when I’m
reading good fiction, but I don’t like going through withdrawal
symptoms. If I want to read complicated open-ended events, I’ll go read
a history textbook, because at least the trivia might come up useful
some day; if I want tough problems I’ll just look at real life and think
about the possibility of college debt and having to find a job and
everything. (If it wasn’t obvious yet, this is why I hyperbolically hate
on Game of Thrones often.) Even worse than all of this is
multiple paragraphs full of scenery and nothing else, unless of course
parts or maybe all of the scenery are
Chekhov’s
Guns.
Some part of me is embarrassed to admit this because I’ve been
educated for so long about deep literature that makes social commentary
or reveals an inner evil of humanity or whatever. But then again, I
don’t really need an education to appreciate the simple, fun fiction I
apparently do.
So: there are a lot of famous classics or mainstream works I can’t
really enjoy too much, or in some cases, at all. And yet, sometimes a
random story or webcomic will appear and I just won’t be able to stop
reading. Why? I decided to try making a list of things I like in
fiction:
A PSYCHOLOGICAL TIP
Whenever you’re called on to make up your mind,
and you’re
hampered by not having any,
the best way to solve the dilemma,
you’ll find,
is simply by spinning a penny.
No — not so that
chance shall decide the affair
while you’re passively standing
there moping;
but the moment the penny is up in the air,
you
suddenly know what you’re hoping.
— Piet Hein
(By the way, apparently spinning a penny is a terrible
randomization process; studies have shown they
come
up tails 80% of the time. Tossing or flipping is
better but there’s still a faintly biased
51%
chance it lands with the same face it started with (PDF link).
Entirely irrelevantly, is the meter amphibrachic? Nice. I’m sorry, but
the impenetrable English names they give to metrical feet just sound so
cool.)
As May 1 has been coming up, I’ve been half-seriously giving this
advice to others who still haven’t decided. But I knew this wouldn’t
work for me. I knew where I intuitively wanted to go all along.
The reasons holding me back were more… reasonable. Mostly the money.
Call it an id-superego conflict.
I don’t know if the difference between my choices would mean I’d have
to take out loans, or work a lot during college, or both. I don’t think
either of those things would be difficult. I think tech internships over
the summer could just cover the parts assigned to parental contribution
(which I’m not going to let my parents pay, unless they start earning
a lot more money than expected) and I think I have the skills
to get those internships. But of course that’s a tradeoff. Maybe there
will be something more self-actualizing or more helpful to my future
career that I could do during the summer. I’m not so sure that I’ll find
the same drive to program for a job instead of for a personal project I
really want to use myself, or for putting off something more boring. I
don’t know yet.
(Get it? Drive? Program? Um, never mind, I guess that’s a hardware
problem.)
This post, or most of it, was published password-protected once
because… well, I explain that below. (To the one person who actually
bothered asking me for the password, just so you know, I did add and
rewrite parts. More than a few.) I forgot how distinctly powerful a
disincentive a large 2300-word block of text is to the average person,
especially when the subject of half of those 2300 words is teenage angst
(I’ve already linked to xkcd 1370
in enough places so I’m not even going to embed it here) interweaved
with an insufferable amount of rationalist jargon. This will probably
filter my readership more than sufficiently already.
I have still decided to protect one detail of the thought process,
though. But even after that, I guess I do care more about how many
people read this than I do for most of my other posts, so here’s a
primitive attempt to gauge interest; if you choose anything beyond the
first choice, I would also appreciate if you leave a comment, even if
you don’t think you have anything to add:
edit: This poll has been removed, it wasn’t very interesting anyway.
I haven’t posted for a long period again, but I don’t feel too bad
about it.
Well, until I look carefully at my blog draft folder and remember
that I have 90%-finished drafts about the two debate competitions I went
to (November 2013 and March 2014), and winning the previous Mystery Hunt
(January 2014), and my summer trip to Penghu (July 2013). Which will
probably never get posted out of awkwardness.
Oops.
But I’ve been busy, completely righteously busy, with college apps to
write and algorithm classes to teach and speeches to write and a math
club to sort-of lead and all the typical homework besides.
And then (for those of you who don’t have me as a friend on Facebook)
I got accepted to MIT and Caltech early.
And for a few days after that, I checked Facebook about sixteen times
a day for the Class of 2019 group discussion, except for one day when I
really needed not to, thanks to the power of committing to my HabitRPG
party to do something. I am increasingly learning that procrastination
is something that has to be actively and strategically fought. But
that’s not what this post is about.
College.
“I like fantasy books! I used to read a lot of Eoin Colfer.”
“What does that mean, used to? You don’t read anymore?
That’s so sa-a-a-ad…”
Our teacher and I had this conversation during our first English
class, and I realized I agreed with her. Well, no, of course I still
read: news articles, r/AskReddit threads, and the books we get assigned
in class. But not fiction, almost. As I later mentioned to my teacher, I
followed Sam Hughes’ Ra avidly
(something I highly recommend). That was it.
What does my present self still think of Eoin Colfer? Although I
adored the Artemis Fowl books when I was younger, my interest
faded, but not before I had recommended it to my sister. The
conversation spurred me to get out the seventh Artemis Fowl book,
which I had stopped reading halfway through a year ago, and finish it.
It was still true that I didn’t like it as much, because I couldn’t feel
the high stakes strongly in the book and I found that the joking asides
compounded the problem. But a few days later, when we took a trip to the
Taipei library, I found the eighth book and borrowed it, plowing through
nine-tenths of the book before we left. The ending seemed to be happy
but still felt counterintuitively poignant for me. In any case, I had
closure.
So what’s the lesson? Authors vary in output too. I was naïve to
suppose that because I found this book boring, I had outgrown all books
that were even vaguely similar. In the same trip, I also borrowed a
bunch of other random fantasy books, plus a realistic fiction book about
a teenage pregnancy, just for kicks. It turned out to be surprisingly
good. In a week, I read four books, cover to cover, despite a typical
load of homework and chemo.
Any excuses I made before about not having enough time simply don’t
hold water. Still, I have yet to figure out if this sort of reading is
sustainable, because not every book is so engrossing. Far from it…
Isn’t it weird to suddenly talk about this topic?
I don’t think that I have ever talked about music any more than
briefly in passing. It might be confusing to my finger quotes
audience, and I worry I’ll seem inconsistent.
Well, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. If you
wonder, “I didn’t know that you sang and played the piano, or you liked
music in that way — or, at all…” please note that I didn’t know
either.
Note: My 2012 self wrote this. It is a little dated
and does not entirely capture my current beliefs and attitudes, although
I have to say it’s not too far off either. As of 2018, Me and Facebook is more
relevant.
Here’s a guilty secret: I like getting feedback.
I’m not restricting myself to painstakingly thoughtful comments that
attempt to build upon and transform the post to form
an interesting conversation, the kind English teachers are hellbent on
promoting. Sure, I get the most kicks out of those, but I’m not picky.
Even single-digit pageview bars or a handful of Facebook “like”s give me
buzzes of excitement.
It’s a guilty feeling, because I also think that that these are
unimaginably cheap internet currencies and should not qualify as
“meaningful” under a rational mindset. I strongly suspect visitors
accidentally click on my blog and leave after five seconds without
taking in anything, because I do that all the time to other people’s
blogs and sites. Sometimes it is out of boredom, sometimes it is because
I actually have something of higher priority to do than indiscriminate
reading, sometimes it is simply because I cannot read the language. I’ve
seen plenty of people like posts on Facebook based on the poster, only
occasionally taking into consideration the first word of the post in
question, before actually reading them.
Yes, the proliferation of “liking” on Facebook bothers me. I don’t
expect everybody to reply meaningfully to everything when they just want
to express approval lightly. However, when I see that tiny minority of
people handing them out to people in their own threads like programs at
a concert, I become indignant. Under their influence, what was
originally a straightforward, meaningful badge of appreciation becomes a
handwavy gesture that carries virtually no weight, and then I don’t know
what to do when I see something I like seriously. Will clicking
that button still express the feeling strongly enough?
I accept that, in our stressful world, a few instant effortless gags
that take ten seconds to fully process and approve deserve a place.
Nevertheless, the number of people who seem to want to make the “like” a
completely passive and automatic action is almost physically
painful:
Some bloggers have a regular schedule for posting and forcing
themselves to meet the deadlines. In essence, something like “updates
every Thursday.”
For me, I think this is a bad idea, because it forces me to write. If
my day is boring and uneventful as it quite often is and I still have to
crank out a post, it would not be a post that readers would enjoy.
Better once-a-month enthusiastic, interesting posts then an ugly stream
of tedious drudgery for the visitor to wade through every time, stuff
like (quoting one random ancient post):
So, as triggered by my confrontation with the Chinese book report
(remember? whatever the answer is, it’s okay): a reflection on my
incompetence at dealing with two languages, and why this matters, or
not.
I can think in both languages. It’s a natural product of our school
environment. The two languages often have to complement each other; most
of the nerdy terms or globally relevant allusions are English-exclusive
(I couldn’t talk coherently about SOPA in any language other than
English!), but a lot of cultural and geographical staples around here
are Chinese only. And sometimes there are unexpected holes where an
innocuous-looking phrase simply has a few too many connotations to
translate perfectly (the example I always get stuck on, and have yet to
solve satisfactorily with anything short of a full sentence recasting,
is “appreciate”.)
Note: My 2011 self wrote this. It is selectively
preserved for historical interest and amusement from a lot of similar,
chronologically nearby posts. I am not as angsty any more.
I don’t know where to start.
First there was a headache. No biggie, sleep it off. But it’s easy to
lose yourself
The pain, the random gusts of nausea, confusion, irritation… it’s
another person in this body, speaking a foreign language I can’t even
begin to fathom
playing by his own rules, won’t let you figure them out. his kingdom,
and there’s not even a way to surrender or take the path of least
resistance. Every path looks the same from here
blackness, vagueness, shadows, defying all interpretations