I want to say more about authenticity and originality of language. I write this from The Breakthrough, Michelle Wildgen’s and my writing retreat on Cape Cod, which happens to fall during the same time as the country-wide Hands Off protest, so about half of us are soon going to go march with others mid-Cape, most likely a tiny and freezing cold (April in New England, harumph) event. As always, I’m jittery with angst about the country, but will focus mostly on writing here.
Back to language. AI is ready and willing to speak, write, and talk for us. So is our government. We can in part protect our freedom and individuality by refusing to use stale language. What we say and what our characters say matters. We just have to say what we mean.
Of course we cannot always be poetic and surprising and original, and early drafts are all about placeholder language. But in the face of the huge task of writing a book (or simply getting through a day right now), it’s tempting to wilt, to reach for some familiar and low-hanging fruit (like “It takes a village” or “Do your part”) and just keep nudging your character forward, one step after the other, taking note of her surroundings and not much else. But we only write well and live with integrity by refusing to become complacent when possible. We have a better chance of telling better stories and even publishing said stories when they are original.
I’m now going to about-face and talk about romantic reality TV, especially the shows Love is Blind and Married at First Sight (but NOT The Bachelor— I’ll get to that later). “What the—,” you ask. “This is not why I subscribed to the Substack of a longtime literary editor.” But stay with me. These unscripted shows have of course been edited and shaped, produced and coiffed, but more often than you might suspect, viewers get to see real people saying surprising and unique things.
We see their vulnerabilities, their desires, their fears, their weirdness. On these two shows, much of the language can of course feel stale. The Bachelor is made wholly of regurgitated language and familiar sentiments like, “I feel so lucky to be on this journey with you” or “This [twilight carriage ride][waterfall makeout sesh][private dinner with lead singer of Berlin or some other member of an 80s band] is amazing.”
But then comes Danielle on Love is Blind, Season Two, saying, “He could come out with no teeth and I'd still kiss him on the mouth." And Bennett from Married at First Sight, Season 11, with, “I've always said: Parallel parking is a surefire mark of sexual prowess.” I maintain that Bennett and Amelia are the most appealing and best couple to ever grace reality tv. I’m still sad that they didn’t last after the last show wrapped.
Season 11 of Married at First Sight is considered the best of the series, and I agree. Set in New Orleans just before and then during the time when Covid shut down the city and the world, the show brought to viewers five couples of varying compatibility and chemistry— and ten true individuals.
From least to most compatible, we met:
Christina (friendly and free spirited flight attendant who may or may not have been homeless) and Henry (marble-mouthed mouse who may or may not have been a virgin).
-Henry: “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life” - said as he jumps on a childproof trampoline.
Olivia (cat loving nurse practitioner) and Brett (cat loving self-proclaimed lady’s man/doofus)
-Olivia: “What will it take for you to fall in love in this relationship?” Brett: “Sexy underwear dances.”
Karen (shy and skeptical) and Miles (younger and game, maybe too game for Karen)
-“Did your Mom sign your permission slip to come on this honeymoon?” - Karen's response to Miles calling her a cougar.
Bennett (pedicab driver, playwright and director, builder of tiny home) and Amelia (resident, wearer of fake birds, slack-line expert)
-Bennett: “"Just a few footsteps away, right down there, I told Amelia for the very first time that I love her."
Amani (calm, confident, bemused lover of dancing) and Woody (joyful, funky lover of dancing)
-Woody: “How do you wear a burger?”
Other than Woody and Amani (I admit I cannot find a good quote from them but trust me when I tell you there are—still—fabulous together), the above quotes tell us a lot about who these people are. Dialogue can reveal so much about character, and offers a different tool than exposition, physical description, or the observations of other characters. But dialogue is often the last thing writers lean on in this way.
These ten newlyweds burst out of the gate wide-eyed and weird, and only grew moreso on both counts as their vibrant city quieted to a hush. They found themselves virtually locked in their apartments with this person/stranger they married just weeks earlier.
This is the recipe for great fiction: begin with character, throw in high stakes (arranged marriage), simmer, up the stakes (what’s this cough?), simmer more, crank up the stakes even more (Covid!), let the distress simmer, and then present your character with a decision. And without fresh language, awake words, the surprise of word juxtaposition, you’ve got nothing.
Authenticity in writing can come more easily with the right mindset. I’ve written about this before, but I’ll say again that when I tread a little lighter, when I allow something else to pour through my brain with some amount of trust and faith in the process, my writing is always better. If we don’t try to so hard, if we don’t become dictator-writers, if we let our characters be weird and wrong and themselves (like we must do with our children, our friends, our family), the we are all better off.
Interesting. I've been reading (and rereading) Vivian Gornick's essay 'The End of the Novel of Love' and what struck me most was realizing to what extent I let my characters drive the action through dialogue, and how much more I need to step back and 'tell'; how much more I need to get into their interior dialogues with themselves. This is probably due to the years and years I spent writing spec screenplays and stage plays....