Writing and Censorship

This occurred months ago, and I’ve been meaning to write about it for a while, but some time in June, a fan of John Green’s criticized his use of the “r-word” (retarded) in Paper Towns. John Green apologized to his fan for using the word by basically saying that he thought, at the time, that authors should reflect language, but now he believes language shouldn’t be dehumanized. Basically, just because the word exists doesn’t mean we should use it–in writing, anyway.

Now I believe that John Green’s apology was absolutely sincere. If you follow him anywhere on the social media sphere, you’ll notice he tries his best to be a decent human being with everyone he interacts with. Plus, I feel like with the novels he has written, you have to be a sensitive person to begin with to effectively convey the stories he has created. However…

I don’t feel like he needed to apologize, even though he chose to because he regretted using the word. I have to commend him for being able to do this; however, what is essentially being argued is that we should censor language.

English does contain ugly words. People use these words. All the time. It’s not uncommon for teens to use the word “retarted.” And for anyone who argues otherwise, I work with teens and take ballet with teens. If they use it, then plenty of others use it. This doesn’t mean we should forever and always use this word. What it does mean is that we should not conflate John Green with his character in Paper Towns. John Green is not Quentin Jacobson. I haven’t read the book in a while, but from what I’ve read, he didn’t use this word in his narrative, or else that would be an entirely different matter. And even if he did, it’s a first-person narrative, so the entire thing takes place in the voice of Quentin. Using it in a third-person narrative, again, would be a totally different matter. But apparently he wrote the word in dialogue. It isn’t out-of-character for Quentin to use the word “retarded.” If it were OOC, I could see this being a problem, but it isn’t. John Green also isn’t the one saying “retarded.” His character is saying it. We authors do not hold the values and opinions of our characters. We simply give them values and opinions that may or may not differ from our own.

I believe that writing should portray reality, including the language people use, even if these words are hurtful. I do have a cousin with Down Syndrome, so I know how offensive that word can be for her, but we shouldn’t have to sanitize our characters and the language they use to keep ourselves from offending someone. What people in general really, really, really NEED to understand is that a character’s language is not a reflection of neither the author’s language nor thoughts. Writers must stay true to their characters. If a teen grows up in a poor neighborhood, grows up in a broken family, lives in a neighborhood riddled with crime, then it’s reasonable to expect that character’s language is most likely going to be crass because that’s what that character most likely grew up around. Unless you want your character to be a role model, writers shouldn’t have to sanitize the offensive language their characters use.

It IS a writer’s responsibility to reflect language as well, or else they risk creating ineffective stories and propagating lies by presenting a pretty reality where no one uses harmful words. They risk creating a reality that is a complete LIE. Writers have a responsibility to accurately portray their characters, too. Is it really realistic for a character who grew up around offensive language to not use offensive language at the risk of offending someone? It’s not! Not at all. The world doesn’t revolve around us. Books shouldn’t eliminate what makes us uncomfortable because life can be uncomfortable. And if you want writers to affect a change with their writing, then they have to be honest. Writers shouldn’t have to cater to people’s feelings.

Now I understand, from research, that his fan has a brother with autism, but until it becomes absolutely unrealistic for decent people to use the word “retarted,” then writers shouldn’t have to censor themselves at the risk of offending their readers, potential or otherwise. Sure, we can argue eliminating the use of the word “retard” could start with writing, but that’s simply an artificial elimination, and you can’t even argue that it’s a start. Openly discussing the word is a start–not asking writers to remove it from their writing. Art should be the last thing that people ask to be censored. Art can, in fact, open a discussion that would otherwise not be had if all artists decided to censor everything at the expense of sparing their consumers’ feelings.

Some authors want to write books to affect a change. Some authors want to write to entertain. Regardless of a writer’s intentions, books don’t have to be a vehicle for change; thus, readers shouldn’t expect authors to write books that are role models for how people should behave. If we’re going to ask John Green to stop using offensive language, then we should beg him to remove that vanilla sex scene between Hazel and Augustus because teens shouldn’t be having sex since it could lead to x, y, and z, and he’s only encouraging teen sex by putting it in The Fault in Our Stars. You would be surprised by how many people are offended by teen sex–but it represents reality because there are teens who have it!

Amazon Versus Brick and Mortar Bookstores

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (Photo credit: theunquietlibrary)

As I was perusing Facebook yesterday, I came across a status from John Green’s author page that said that the print version of The Fault in Our Stars was written by Holt McDougal, an author who actually creates math textbooks–so, obviously, John Green is still the author of TFiOS. One can find the blunder here, assuming the blunder is still present by the time you read this. Nonetheless, believe me when I say that possible drones changed the author from John Green to Holt McDougal on the print version, which, I must admit, is quite amusing. Who knew John Green was secretly THE Holt McDougal, who writes math textbooks to aide students in their mathematical pursuits?

Going through the comments was amusing to me, but one comment that troubled me was a commenter who said that people should not support Amazon and should instead flock to their local bookstores. Now I agree we should support our local bookstores, but bookstores are not any more innocent than Amazon. For example, upon distribution of a new book, that new book has roughly fifty days to sell out. Since the average sale of a book in bookstores is somewhere between 200-500, one can assume that the shelf lives of many new books expires, and so those books go back to the publisher, never to be seen on bookstore shelves again. One can argue that these books just weren’t good enough, but having a great product isn’t enough. Many publishers will neglect the publicity of newer authors in favor of pushing publicity upon their best authors. Oh, certainly these new authors receive some form of publicity, as being in a bookstore is publicity itself, but bookstore publicity has obviously proven that it should not be the only form of publicity.

In fact, many newer authors I have met online that come from traditional houses are not in my bookstore. They may be in others’ bookstores, but these bookstores are often larger and can take in more books. But, again, if a book doesn’t sell out within that 50 day time frame, it gets axed.

Before Amazon and the e-book, the books that were axed gave their authors no chance of being discovered or being publicized ever again, unless that traditional house was willing to take on another one of their books. But I have read stories of authors who were published by big houses, just weren’t doing well at all in terms of sales, their books went out of print, and then they inevitably moved to self-publishing, where they found more success.

Now that Amazon and the e-book exist, books that are removed from bookstores now have a chance  on Amazon, both print and e-book alike. So, they have an infinite “shelf life,” so to speak, especially through the e-book version. Not only this, but authors frustrated by the submission process to literary agents or editors of large houses can now turn to self-publishing. One used to have to go through a vanity press to receive self-publication, and would have to go door-to-door (kind of in a figurative sense) to get discovered. The only book that was successful in this endeavor is The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield. Otherwise, most other books didn’t have a chance. Oh, certainly authors could go through Createspace and Lulu, but the price of the print book is often high and unaffordable for many book buyers–after all, books are an impulse buy, not a necessity for many people. Amazon now owns Createspace, so a lot of self-published authors do use Createspace for both print and e-book–but it’s really the e-book version of a book that outsells the print version due to its cheaper price.

Amazon has also given rise to small press publishers, who are able to devote publicity to their authors. And there are some successful small publishers out there devoted to even their newest authors. This allows readers more books to choose from and I’m certain readers delight in having many, many books to choose from now.

All in all, it does bother me when people protest buying books on Amazon, because Amazon has made self-publishing a very viable option for many self-published authors. This attack on Amazon, to me, is almost an attack on self-published authors, who can now make their dreams of publication come true. It is also an attack on authors published by small presses, which either do not put books in bookstores–yet!–or only put the books of a small percentage of their authors in a store. It has also allowed books to be affordable to many readers through the Kindle and its e-book. I can buy books like candy now, and I love that. Reading has never been more pleasurable for me.

I say support Amazon, because the supporting of the book side of Amazon is the supporting of many authors who can become successful through Amazon alone.

The Beauty of Romance as a Sub-genre

Some time ago I wrote a post on my least favorite genre, which is romance. I don’t like pure romance books because it seems a prerequisite for writing one is to have crap happen that muddles a relationship, and then it ends happily-ever-after. It’s not that I don’t believe that happy relationships aren’t possible, because I am in one myself, but it’s very formulaic. If I know they’re going to get together in the end, I frankly don’t give a crap what happens in the book to bring them up to that point because I basically know the ending, mmkay? I think romance is a sweet, beautiful thing, but if the outcome is predictable, I will not bother with the book. Period. And, really, most of the outcomes are predictable because romance is a wish-fulfillment genre. But the beauty about romance as a sub-genre is that the plot can do anything to that romance, and you have no idea what it’s going to be.

I am about to spoil The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, so if you have not read it and want to read it, I suggest not reading this next part. The primary genre of this book is basically sick lit, even though it is shelved in your basic teen fiction and is considered literature. But it is also a tragic romance, which I didn’t know upon picking up the book. I knew there was romance in it, muddled by cancer and teen things, but I had no clue what I was getting myself into when I began reading it.

This has become one of my favorite books of all time partly because of the sick lit and partly because of the romance as sub-genre.

As I began reading the book, I melted at the sweet romance, but I also began to realize this romance wasn’t going to end well, but I had no idea who it wasn’t going to end well for and why. Hazel has stage IV thyroid cancer and Gus is an amputee whose cancer is in remission. Now John Green masterfully creates foreshadow to show who is going to bear what tragedy, but it is symbolism that you have to really pay attention to. As the end of the book draws near, Gus’s cancer returns and it is Hazel who must bear the tragedy of witnessing Gus’s dying. This was completely unpredictable because Gus’s cancer had been in remission for a while and even though Hazel is on a treatment plan that has kept her cancer at bay, her lungs were basically useless, so she has to carry around an oxygen tank, and she still struggles with her cancer in ways Gus daoesn’t have to struggle with his. So Gus dies at the end, a rather horrific death, let’s be honest, and your feelings have been left slaughtered and bloody because you spend x amount of pages reading the romance between Hazel and Gus, only for the sick lit aspect of the book to tear it apart. It is sad and tragic, but Hazel draws strength from the tragedy and knows she can survive it.

TFIOS has made me fall in love with romance as a sub-genre because, really, the main genre can send the romance spiraling in a thousand different directions that romance as a genre doesn’t seem to do. And the romance itself can really muddle the main plot in a thousand delectable ways.

Do you remember some time ago when I said that When Stars Die’s sequel was not going to have romance? Well, I’m back to working on it now and have discovered that there is some romance. It’s not as much as WSD, but there is still romance in it and I have decided to keep it because, well, a lot of crap happens to Alice, and she deserves something amongst all the crappiness. But, of course, the romance aspect is completely unpredictable. I don’t even know where my MC and her love interest are going to end up. But I hesitate to say that this one can be defined as paranormal romance like WSD can be. This one will just be flat out paranormal. Possibly paranormal suspense.

Once I finish with the Stars trilogy and this contemporary fantasy, I am going to start on a sick lit, sort of tragic romance book myself. I’m thinking of doing a novel-length alternative version of a YA contemporary short story I did last month. But that won’t be for some time–but I’ll probably start outlining it anyway just so it’s there.

 

 

 

An Existential Tragedy

Yesterday my mom brought our dog of seventeen years to the vet and had him put down. The major reason he was put down is that he wasn’t eating. He hadn’t eaten for a week. Not only that, but he was basically blind and confused and likely dealing with a mind that was deteriorating. It was a sudden decision–he hadn’t eaten that morning. But it was heartbreaking to hear that that would be the last day he was going to remain alive.

I wasn’t close to him–not anymore, anyway–not since my cat Neko came into my life. I’m not going to lie and say I feel bad for drifting away from him, because I don’t. It was mostly his ungodly body odor that kept me at bay, but I never once wished we didn’t have him anymore. He was close to my mom, and that was good enough for me. I still paid attention to him, but most of my attention has gone to my cat, as she is attached to me and I attached to her, and we practically demand each other’s attention.

Unfortunately, I myself don’t have any picture of my dog. But he was a cocker spaniel/beagle mix.

But it was so hard just knowing he would no longer simply be at 5:30 PM. I was a sobbing wreck yesterday, even though I kept all of my feelings to myself. I’m trying so hard not to sob as I write this, in fact. In spite of no longer being as close as I once was to that little dog, he still left paw prints on my heart, prints that will remain until I die because the heart is a muscle strengthened by the good things in life, and he was one of those good things.

To be honest though, I’d been waiting for him to die simply because his life has been so hard for the past two years. He just stayed in bed…all the time. It’s tragic that death is the only solution to release him from his suffering. It’s what suicidal people feel. It’s what I felt at one point. And that’s the tragedy of existence, that at some point in our lives we’re going to want to die, either because of some crippling disease or because old age has become so painful that there is no current solution to make it otherwise. At the same time, life is still so very precious. It’s so precious that sometimes we just have to let it go.

I don’t know if there is an after for a dog. I don’t know if there’s an after for people. I’m also not going to say there isn’t because I don’t know. I just don’t know. What gets me most though is when people like to tell us that those who die are in a better place. Why can’t our current reality be that better place? Why don’t we make our current reality that better place?

I suppose I’m just troubled. Death is a strange concept to me, a concept I will honestly never understand. It was so weird looking at the deceased body of my dog and touching him and still feeling that lingering warmth. One moment he was alive and the next gone. It doesn’t make sense to me, but there it is. I will never understand death, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t deal well with death. I guess that’s just who I am.

However, I think the biggest tragedy of existence is that we form bonds with things we know are going to die. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green talked about how we leave scars of existence on each person. Some of us leave deeper scars than others. Some of us try to leave the shallowest scars we can, but most of us don’t think about what it means to bond with another person and animal –and I suppose that’s a good thing because it means we’re thinking about the here and now.

I think a lot. I think too much. Sometimes I think about what it’s going to mean when my cat dies, what it means when anybody I love dies. Other times, I try not to think about it. But yesterday I knew that my cat had left the deepest scars possible because she hasn’t just left paw prints on my heart, but in my heart and my blood and all around me. I feel like that when she dies, I won’t be able to function for a bit because she’s not just a pet to me–she’s a practical friend who has been there through my best and worst and has not once ever hated me for anything I’ve done to her that could have been hurtful. She is so forgiving.

But I suppose I should just accept that death is the most nonsensical thing in the world to me. Science can explain it, but the emotions can’t grasp it.