What Am I Doing In There?

Happy mid-February, all. This blog post is about something that I started thinking about when I really should have been doing homework and/or job searches. Namely,

When should I insert myself into my own writing?

It was so important that I thought it to myself in an Impact font, size 26. But we all have to return to Times New Roman size 14 at some point (or at least we SHOULD; Times New Roman is the font of life, pun intended). So let me give my three cents on the subject of an author inserting himself into his own writing. I’ll try to keep it brief.

[Sonnek’s Side Note: You might have noticed that I used what I call the Masculine Generic to refer to writers of both sexes; I did not say “…an author inserting his/herself into his/her own writing.” If anyone accuses me of sexism by simplification, I would like to point out that this usage of the masculine denies the male gender their own personal pronoun. For instance, when I say “womankind”, I am clearly referring to only women—but when I say “mankind”, it is more likely that I am referring to all humanity. We guys do not get our own collective and/or exclusive pronoun, people. It’s sad. And don’t even talk to me about “peoplekind.”]

So much for keeping it brief.

First, I exclude from discussion things like autobiographies and other works of nonfiction where that author is actually THERE. Obviously self-insertion is an acceptable necessity in those cases. I refer mostly to works of fiction that are not based on real life.

Well…OK, all good fiction is in some way based on real life and experience; that’s why it resonates with all of us. You know what I mean. Returning to the question, should the author insert his real-life character into these works of fiction?

My quick answer: Um…how do you avoid it?

Let me explain through an example: the ventriloquist comedian Jeff Dunham. For those of you who may be unfamiliar, one of his puppets is a hyperactive purplish-greenish…alien-muppet thing…named Peanut. That’s honestly my best description of it. He has another puppet named José Jalapeño on a Stick; that one is exactly what he sounds like, plus a sombrero.

Anyway, I forget which show this was (and I’m not going to Google it), but Dunham was holding both of these puppets at the same time, making them argue with each other—much to the delight of the audience. At one point in the act, Peanut turned to Jeff directly, accusing him of giving José all the good lines!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Jeff. “I’m just observing.”

After the laughter, Peanut said—in a slow, deliberate, loud whisper:

“DON’T GIVE ME THAT CRAP. We know this is ALL YOU.”

That’s one of my favorite Jeff Dunham moments ever. And it applies here.

We are authors. One way to poetically rephrase the noun is to call us ventriloquists in print. We are the ones speaking through the words on the page; there is no way to divorce yourself from the idea that you are generating. Once you are writing your characters, inside their heads as they move through the story, they are all parts of you in some way—that is how you can relate them convincingly and make them come to life.

I do actually recommend beginning writers to base characters upon their own personalities and those of people they know. The “training wheels” of Main Character Perspective is your own mindset; it’s the one you’re most familiar with and therefore can relate the most convincingly. As soon as you can relate motivations, struggles, and perspectives of the world through your eyes, you are better equipped to put on another head and show us a different angle. As weird as that sounds.

[Sonnek’s Side Note: Speaking of weirdness and personal perspective, I have a Twitter account now. You can find it on this site’s “Contact” page, or look for me at “@ultrasonnek”. I don’t really know what to do with the bloody thing, though. Maybe if I get a few more followers, I’ll do more stuff with it.]

Does all this mean that you should fear those who write about serial killers? No…not necessarily. Yes, a writer does have to internalize some of the murderous mindset in order to portray the villain—but knowing your enemy rarely turns one into the enemy. That would be a case of pretty messed-up priorities. At any rate, they know the enemy well enough to defeat him. That’s valuable knowledge. You can still shake Stephen King’s hand, but be careful about it.

HOWEVER—and this is a big however—I do not give license to wish-fulfillment. This is when your “avatar character” in the novel is only there to live out your dream life. It’s pretty easy to spot; if your readers are complaining about a lack of conflict, things going too easily for the Main Character, or other problems like this, odds are you have fallen into the Wish Fulfillment area where your story becomes your vicarious dream world. I’ve certainly done that on a few drafts. You may have read a few books like that, too (probably romance, if I had to guess).

How do you bail yourself out of this? No need to completely scrap the character. Instead, do a little bit of soul-searching. What are your deepest, most teeth-gnashing fears? What irritates you? What do you really consider an obstacle, whether they’re real-life struggles or problems in reaching personal goals? And—this is the big one—what are your character flaws? Oh, I’ll bet all that stuff is in there. You have been sticking to the you-template, after all. So dig those ugly details out, shine a light on them, and make them relevant to the story. Send in your basement monsters to complicate the plot. Then you’re on to something.

In summary? Making a personal appearance in your writing is unavoidable. Just make sure that you aren’t standing in front of the story. Now go out there and be a Story Ninja.

[Sonnek’s Final Side Note: You also might have noticed that I changed my blog title to “Parenthetical Statements.” If you did notice, good eyes. I found that this new title a) sums up my blog purpose—and writing style, since I use many parentheses—and b) “Parenthetical Statements” rolls off the tongue a little faster than “The Inexplicable Author Website of Benjamin Sonnek.” Don’t you think?]

Fiction Advice that RHYMES

Hello and welcome, O blog reader dear.

What’s with this rhyming? Please do not fear.

Within my writing expanse I enjoy

To take something simple, and then I employ

My bizarre inclination to add rhythm and rhyme.

I thought I’d do it here. Prob’ly only this time.

So, whether or not my rhyming is nice,

You probably came here for some advice.

Today comes an issue that I will address

That has caused my peace some undue duress.

I touched on it once in my other Inkitt post;

And it’s their one trend that upsets me the most.

It appears so often in manuscripts

That every Inkitt visitor trips

Over the topic whenever they visit

Inkitt’s “Most Popular” homepage. What is it,

This popular trend that one can’t help but see?

It's the theme of the “Alpha Wolf” story. Bear with me.

Most fantasy stories today seem to involve

A werewolf hierarchy, which will revolve

Around wolfish romance—“Alphas” finding a “mate”,

Et cetera, et cetera. So why do I hate it when

Someone brings up this whole “Alpha Wolf” tryst?

Simply because it…well, doesn’t exist.

This Alpha Wolf theory we find so attractive

Was based on a study of wolves that were captive.

Within their confines, the wolves form a structure

Where one holds authority over another.

When Schenkel and Mech made these observations,

We were too quick to apply it to human relations.

“If a human’s aggressive, it’s his wolf tendencies

To act as an alpha o’er all that he sees.

And in his love life—” Well, that’s where I’ll drop it,

But many books take it up from where I stop it.

Between captive and wild, though, there is a difference

That seems, in our fictions, not to have its due deference.

Now, when this research was applied to the wild,

It was found the relation was “parent” and “child.”

The old Alpha structure is a family tree,

With two parents exercising authority

Over their younger children. When the parent dies,

Their offspring—with his family—goes on the rise.

The wolfish leadership is not an instinct

For one type of wolf who will make others sink,

But rather a sign of a family head,

Who loses the throne only after he’s dead.

In your writing, this “Alpha Wolf” myth don’t misuse

For I’ll only see characters with daddy issues.

If you’re writing a romance, please do shun the dance

Of feebly, and falsely, excused “dominance.”

In real life, an “Alpha” is kind of a jerk.

So instead, a more human-like romance should work.

Anyway, thank you for visiting this blog.

I know it’s not easy, trying to slog

Through these endless couplets composed just for you

Only one or two days before they were due.

Have fun with your writing! Okay, now I’m done.

(But I’m not gonna lie…this rhyming was fun.)