Writing Minorities from a Position of Privilege

Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending LibertyCon in Chattanooga, TN. It was the third year I'd been a guest at this particular convention and it never fails to be interesting (if sometimes challenging).


In particular this year, a question from an audience member during the Weird Wild West panel prompted me to think more specifically about the challenges of writing perspectives outside our own - specifically those of minorities being written by folks with greater degrees of privilege. It's not the first time I've thought about the issue, nor the first time I've talked with other authors about it or written about it. But it has been a year and a half since I last put any sort of formal shape to my thoughts and I was surprised to discover that, while my general thoughts have not changed, the specifics are different now.


The question started with a reference to an essay in which the author had argued that authors who are not part of minority groups would be better off letting those groups write for themselves rather than tackling perspectives they are not familiar with. (I.e. White folks shouldn't write from the PoV of Latinx or African-American characters because they won't really know or understand the culture, and in providing a majority voice they will inadvertently silence more authentic voices.) The audience member then pointed out that although she was a WoC, she would struggle to write from the perspective of a lesbian because she's straight. She then asked what the panelist thought - did we agree that folks who were not a part of a minority should avoid writing characters from minority perspectives?


There's a thing that tends to happen when you ask white authors this question or mention that it's been asked. Invariably they say "I write characters all the time that aren't me. Murderers and thieves. Writing a character who is a person-of-color or a member of the LGBTQAI community is no different." And then they usually stress that doing research into cultures and communities we aren't a part of is important for authenticity.


This opinion is similar to the position I took a year and a half ago ("Fixing" Diversity in Science Fiction and Fantasy), but further consideration has led me to believe that it is not enough.


First of all, let me point out that having diversity in ones story world is still a must. (Barring some unnatural and plot specific reason that everyone looks one way or another. I.e. A virus that killed off nintey-nine out of every hundred women leaving a planet or country with a massive male population and only a handful of women.) But having a diverse story-world is not the same thing as writing from a minority perspective - writing from the POV of a person-of-color or LGBTQAI or differently abled, etc.


The former means recognizing and incorporating a variety of folks into the fabric of your world so that it feels real. The latter means seeing that world through the experience of someone who is from a particular culture/subculture. The latter means not just understanding general experiences - being an outsider in a group or having a lover leave you - but specific experiences - having store employees follow you around because of the color of your skin or being suspected of being a criminal based on the way you wear your hair or being told that you sound like a certain ethnicity because you laugh too loud.


The latter means not merely drawing on the experiences that all humans have in common, but understanding that as a white/cis/het/abled/neuro-typical person there are experiences you will likely never encounter, but are common for members of other cultures.


And that doesn't even touch on differences in family life and structure, economic challenges, religion, music, dress, education, etc.


"So," you say. "You do think only minorities should write minority characters."


The short answer is no. And my next answer is "If you are not part of a particular group - minority or otherwise - understand that you are not an expert on that group."


All things being equal in terms of writing craft, a person-of-color will always write a POV character from their cultural group with greater authenticity than someone outside that group. Folks who have lived in poverty will portray the complexities of being poor more clearly than someone who has always lived comfortably. A lived experience will always be more authentic than a researched experience. Always.

Secondly, saying "I am not a murderer, but I write about them because that's what authors do," is not a valid equivalent to "I am not an African-American, but I write about them because that's what authors do."


It's true that a large part of writing fiction requires putting oneself in the head and skin of folks that are very different from our real-life self. But murder is a thing that transcends culture - it is a human experience that almost anyone can imagine because it is not culture or religion or gender specific.


Imagine you write a book from the POV of a serial killer. Imagine, even, that you get a part of it wrong. Something in your portrayal doesn't represent the actual experience of real serial killers. Imagine that something in your representation of a serial killer has a negative influence on the way everyone else views serial killers. Now imagine that everyone in the world reads your book. How many folks will be able to say "This is wrong. I am a serial killer and I know,"? How many folks will find they are subject to additional prejudice because you have added to the negative of opinion of serial killers?


Now imagine you write a book from the POV of a minority that you are not a member of. Imagine you get a part of it wrong. Imagine that your representation has a negative influence on the way everyone else now views that minority group. Now imagine everyone in the world reads your book. How many folks will be able to say "This is wrong. I am a member of this group and I know,"? How many folks will find they are subject to additional prejudice because you have added to the negative opinion of that minority group?


[Let me clarify that I am not saying that if a group is sufficiently small you shouldn't worry about "getting it right". Rather comparing the creative ability to write about thieves to the creative ability to write about people-of-color borders on ignorance - well-intentioned or not.]

"So," you say. "You do think only minorities should write minority characters."

The short answer is no. And my next answer is "If you intend to write about an experience that is not a human experience (love, grief, anger, hate, hope, etc) and is based outside your own cultural background, then you had better do your fucking research."

This means talking to people within that group. It means reading books and articles by members of that group. (Not just books and articles about that group.) It means writing the thing you intend to write and then showing it to those people you talked to before and asking "What have I gotten wrong?" (It also means understanding that these folks don't have an obligation to explain these things to you. Look for help, but don't demand it.)

It means recognizing that the things you think you know about being African-American or Latinx or LBTQAI or neuro-atypical may be flat out wrong. The things you've seen in movies or read in books may be wrong. It means recognizing that your ability to imagine yourself as a member of x-group may be flawed. It means being humble and being willing to learn. It means not being defensive when someone tells you "You will have trouble understanding this because you haven't lived it." It means being able to to take criticism from folks outside your immediate friends and family without saying "Well, my roommate in college was Asian and he thought this was okay."

It means recognizing that while some experiences can give you a good emotional foundation for writing about prejudice or discrimination, being ostracized by the mean girls in high school is not the same as living with systematic racism against your ethnic group. It means recognizing that being misunderstood because you were a tomboy in college is not the same as having your family kick you out for being gay.

So, all of this to say, if you feel you must write from a perspective outside your own lived experience, do so carefully. Do your research and stay humble.

If, like me, you are still a little uncomfortable with trying to write from a different point of view, you can still write fiction that presents diverse worlds. Either by making sure your supporting characters and "bit parts" reflect a diverse reality or by writing in worlds that are not our own. (I.e. The main POV characters in the Epic Not Fantasy novel are not "white", but their culture is not ours to begin with. The character whose skin is dark will not have the experience or culture of a man from Africa or the Caribbean or the United States because none of those places exist. But he does still provide a character who is smart and capable and central to the protagonist's success who "looks" like someone of African descent.) The latter is not a perfect solution, but I am committed to not excluding groups just because it's easier and safer for me to write about straight white cis-het folks.

And use your voice to support and recommend the work of those who are minorities. Not because they need your approval. But because, like it or not, authors in a position of privilege will continue to be asked their thoughts on diversity. And, if you support diversity, you will not just give your own opinions on it, but highlight those who are writing from a diverse perspective.

Because imagining what it's like to be African-American or Asian or Latinx or neuro-atypical or LGBTQAI is not the same as living it.

Pin-Up Mentality

After college I spent a few years experimenting with the idea of drawing graphic novels for a living. It was fun. I worked really hard and developed my mediocre drawing skills into fairly decent people-drawing skills. Not so much life drawing, but sketching little characters.

I was part of a forum (sadly now defunct) that had some big names as members (folks like Immonen and Francavilla) and I got a lot of excellent feedback and advice while I was there. But, in the end, I don't do well at drawing things. And I'm pretty damn slow at everything else.

For a while I thought maybe I would just focus on pin-ups; drawing women was fun and very popular and I could probably have made some money at it if I'd really wanted to. But I kept finding I wasn't especially happy with only drawing women as... sexy things. And I was still hideously slow so I turned to other pursuits.

Recently though, I've been thinking about pin-ups again. It started with a cartoon I saw on FaceBook (but cannot seem to locate for specific reference so bear with my word version of it.) On the left hand side was a (roughly drawn) woman in a chainmail bikini type costume. (It was generic, and poorly rendered, but it may have been supposed to be Wonder Woman or perhaps Red Sonja or maybe just a woman in a chainmail bikini.) And the caption was something like "When a woman wears this to ComicCon she's strong and empowered." And there was (I think) a voice balloon that said "You go girl!". On the right hand side there was a dude sitting in front of an easel with (essentially) the same sketch of the scantily clad woman on the left. And the caption said "When an artist draws a woman like this he's a sexist pig." And (again, I think) a voice balloon that said something like "Misogynist!". [I tried really hard to find the original to link to, but I don't know who drew it and Google searches under relevant terms were distressing. So, I am paraphrasing and leaning on my (sometimes) faulty memory.]

The obvious thrust of the cartoon was to imply that there's a double standard about how women portray themselves and how men portray women. Especially in SF/F. Especially in the visual arts.

And my initial thought was "This is missing the point." Because we all know that women are sexy sometimes. We are known to wear things that we think make us look attractive. (Even I, on occasion, take off my battered jeans and worn out t-shirt and put on some fancies.) But, and this is the missing thought in the above mentioned cartoon, we are more than just a sexy thing in a chainmail bikini.

The objection to artists who consistently draw women as first-and-foremost sexy/attractive is that they are reducing them, reducing us, to something to be looked at. Admired. Drooled over, even. Praised because of how sweet we look or how luscious our curves are. They are reducing us to objects. Again.

It feels like I shouldn't even have to point that out. But then I see things like Game of Thrones Women as Pin-Ups. (A Google search will turn up a lot more than just those five.) Or Disney Princesses as Pin-ups. (And there are a lot of those too besides the artist I linked to. He's just the most recent to get a write up.) And I see the previously mentioned cartoon and I realize it needs to be said again.

Women are more than just sex objects. We aren't just pretty things who are there for the Hero to ogle and take home as a prize after he saves the world. We are more than a bikini (chainmail or otherwise). More than a pretty smile.

Does this mean that no one should ever draw pin-ups? Or that men should never draw women in a way that suggests they are attractive or desirable?

Of course not.

It does mean that it behooves all of us (men and women alike) to remember that we are first and foremost humans. Sure, our dangly bits are different, but we are defined by more than just that.

"Fine," you say. "But I'm not an artist so why should I care?"

Because this is a lesson for all of our creative endeavors. There are still too many books being written in which the women or the PoC or the LGBTQ folk are just sidenotes - summed up into a single aspect of their humanity. Women as sex objects, PoC and LGBTQ as "other" and foreign and tragic friends who do not get to reap the rewards that the Hero receives. There are still too many books being written in which the Hero is likewise put in a box and distilled down to a handful of characteristics that limit his growth and depth by relegating him to a role which can only be those things which are not identified as a part of Women or PoC or LGBTQ characters.

And this doesn't mean that every book must represent all parts of every spectrum of humanity. Just as it doesn't mean that no one should ever draw pin-ups. But it does mean that consistently seeing a particular group in a specific way will limit the stories you tell and cramp (if not cripple) your skills to present characters that are fully rounded.

Depth of character means depth of skill, depth of perception, depth of understanding.

It means putting aside the pin-up mentality that turns every character with girl-parts into something to be ogled. It means writing not about the Hero or the Love Interest or the Queer Friend.

It means writing about humans. 

Not a Zero-Sum Game

One thing that comes up periodically from certain corners of the author world is the idea that for every book published by one of the Big 5, that's one less book someone else will successfully sell to that publisher. Or that for every major book deal and advance given out, that means a certain number of smaller, debut authors will never get a shot because there is no money for them anymore.

It's an argument used by certain proponents of "traditional" genre fiction when discussing the push to have more diversity in the author pool.

"When you argue for diversity, you're taking food off the plates of other authors who just happen to be straight, white and male!" And then there's usually some twaddle about discrimination and quality and wahwahwah.

I'm not going to talk about that today.

Instead, let me remind folks that publishing is not a zero-sum game. Broadening the author pool also means broadening the reader pool and that means not only more books - as opposed to the same number of books only with different authors than last year - but more money. It means more folks saying "Hey! Maybe this SF and Fantasy stuff isn't so bad after all. Where can I find more books?"

Recently DC announced it was adding a line of comics they intend to be focused more on female characters and in general appeal to the femme comic buyers. Notice, they aren't replacing the existing lines, they are adding to them. More books, not less. New authors, and old ones. More readers. More money. More good.

It's not a zero-sum game. It is a "Let's make money!" game. Although it is untrue that publishers never take risks on books (because they do), the key thing to remember is that it is a business. If they are buying and publishing a certain thing it's because they are reasonably confident it will sell. If they are buying from a more diverse pool of talent, it's because they are reasonably confident that there is a market for those books and those authors and that more money means more books, and more books means fewer authors of any color/gender/orientation subsisting on Ramen for extended periods of time.

Appealing to a diverse readership by default equals trying to broaden the readership. I don't know about you, but I always prefer more readers to fewer readers.

The publishing world is not like your grandma's pie which was delicious and always left everyone fighting over the last piece because there was only so much and you, your brother and your cousins all wanted it. No, this is like a Guinness Book of World Records pie - it can always get bigger next year.

More authors.
More books.
More readers.
More money.
More good.

We all win.

Competent Enough to Compete: Lessons Learned from Competitive Piano Performance

When I was eleven, I decided I wanted to learn how to properly play the piano. My mother had already showed me the basics of how to read music and I could fumble out a few things with right and left hand parts, but I wanted to learn classical music. So, my mother canceled our cable subscription to pay for piano lessons and signed me up with a teacher down at the local conservatory.


Because I had a head start on the basics I progressed quickly. After the first year my teacher suggested I compete in the local music teachers competition. The first year, she said, I would be only competing against myself. If I enjoyed it and wanted to continue the following year, we would see about putting me in the category where I would compete with everyone my own age.


Despite the nerves, I did, in fact, enjoy competing. Not so much for the competition factor, but because the real joy of music, like writing, is in sharing it with someone else. Sure, I enjoyed playing at home and getting lost in the fiddly, rolling-down-a-steep-hill harmonies of Bach's Inventions. But the real enjoyment, the biggest rush was in performing for someone else. Especially in performing for strangers who would appreciate the music without regard for me.


So, after two years of competing only against myself, I entered the local competition along with everyone else in my grade level. This was a challenge. Many of them had been playing much longer than I had. And let me tell you, six years of additional experience makes a big difference - in both the quality and complexity of the work being presented. My teacher and I carefully selected work that pushed my skills and showed off my range. For the remaining five years before I headed off to college, I competed at my grade level. Every year I placed high enough to continue on to the state level. Every year I received good marks at the state level, but I never won or progressed to the regional competition.

I was competent enough to compete. I was not skilled enough to win.

"Why this story?" you may be thinking.

Lately the SF/F realm has been rife with conspiracy theories about secret "liberal" cabals, active bloc-voting by particular "conservative" groups to narrow the playing field to works which they approved and endorsed, and then rejection of those works by a broader fan base. At this point it seems as if the attempts to put forth a complete slate will continue next year. Which also means more bitterness and vitriol and finding out that folks who have been positive about your work in the past didn't really mean "This is good," but rather "This is good for a girl-writer."


And much of it stems from the inability to grasp the idea that you may be competent enough to compete, but not competent enough to win. It is laden with fear about a broadening of the pool of talent to include voices that may not be just different but also better. It is laced with venom over the idea that fandom is bigger than you are, bigger than your group of friends, and in that larger sea you are a smaller fish than you thought. And all of it is wrapped up in an "us against them" narrative that transforms that fear and poison and lack of understanding into a conspiracy against some deeper way of life - the "culture wars" we keep hearing about.


This, more than anything else, is the reason I have no patience for the Puppies (Sad or Rabid) and their movement to "reclaim" SF/F for future generations.


At some point, you have to realize that maybe your work just isn't better than your competitors. And at that point you (and I), have two basic choices.


You can:
Accuse the judges of favoring the Asian-American over you because of a hidden affirmative action agenda.
Declare that the other contestants played newer, more modern work and were rewarded for it while your own more traditional selections were passed over because they are no longer en vogue.
Orchestrate and implement a plan to only allow those who play at your skill level to compete. Bonus if you can limit the works to the same style and content you perform.


Or you can:
Improve your skills.
Work harder.
Be persistent.

"Well," you may be thinking. "You only say that because you've never been nominated for a literary award."

And that's true. I haven't been nominated. I've been eligible since 2012. In fact, 2012-2013 I was eligible for the John Campbell "Not a Hugo" Award for Best New Writer. Those years came and went without any sort of recognition for my work. Aside from, you know, having been published, getting paid, and knowing that folks were reading my work. But even if I had been nominated, I learned years ago that sometimes my very best is not "the best".

I'm okay with that. You know why?
Because, for me, the answer is simple - write a better story.
It's the thing I say to myself every time I sit down to put words on the page - write a better story.
It's the thing I say to myself every time I see someone belittling my genre - write a better story.
It's the thing I say to myself every time someone implies that even if I were to be nominated it would be for something other than the quality of my work - write a better story.

Because there is only one way to compete - write a better story.

[Disclaimer (because, you know, ethics in journalism): I have been published by two of the Puppies nominees - Abyss & Apex, and Jennifer Brozek. And I split a reading time slot with Jason Cordova last year.]

"Fixing" Diversity in Science Fiction and Fantasy

A couple of months back I was on a panel at a local con titled Diversity in Fiction: What is it, How to do it, and Why. As the panelists (many of whom didn't know who else was on the panel) came in and sat down there was a bit of an awkward moment as we all recognized that the panel was basically white. But we figured we were there to talk about writing diverse characters so we'd roll with it.

But the first question came from a PoC woman in the audience who demanded with some intensity to know how we, a bunch of white folks, intended to fix the diversity problem in Science Fiction and Fantasy.

 First of all, there's a lot of factors that roll into diversity in fiction (across all genres), but there are, in my mind, three main areas of diversity in fiction. Diversity of authors, diversity of characters/setting, and diversity of readers.

On that panel, we were failing any broad representation of diversity as authors. This is not to say that our experiences, stories or voices were identical. The nature of being human means that each of has a unique voice and a story to tell, but it's fair to say we likely had more in common than not. And there was nothing we could do about that. I am a white, straight, cis, abled woman. Barring an unforeseen car accident or unlikely gamma ray mutation, I will always be a white, straight, cis, abled woman.

The only thing I can do is issue an open invitation to those who have different voices than mine to write your own stories and put them out there for the world to see. (This is one of those areas where there are other factors involved. It's not just that there aren't diverse authors; there are issues with getting ones work out there if one is not a white male. But not trying is a sure way to make certain our voices are never heard.)

I first started writing SF/F because I was frustrated that there didn't seem to be enough of the stories I really liked to read. And it wasn't that I read books by white men and thought "Ewww. This just isn't for me." (Although there were a few of those.) It was more that there were certain books that stuck with me longer, that spoke to me, personally, on a much deeper level. Almost without exception they were written or co-written by women and had female protagonists or a fairly equal mix of male and female characters in lead roles. But there were never enough of these books and it seemed like the only way to "fix" that was to write some of my own.

So, to have more diversity in the authorship, those voices who had previously been excluded or ignored must join the conversation because the rest of us cannot and should not be trying to speak in your stead.

But beyond diverse authors, there are also diverse characters and settings. And this is something everyone can participate in. Because diversity is and has been a part of human experience for thousands of years. This doesn't mean that every story has to have a broadly representative cast. It doesn't mean you should write to fill some idea of a diverse quota.

It does mean that characters can be gay or PoC or trans or differently abled and it doesn't matter whether that orientation or color has anything to do with the story. Because strong characters, the ones we remember and love and hate and dream about are the ones who are larger than their function within the story. It does mean the "rules" we tend to think of when we create a story and put together a group of characters are wide open. It does mean we think beyond our normal defaults of character and setting.

Which brings me to the third part of diversity, which is the diversity of readers. I don't know about you, but I have yet to find an author who would rather have fewer readers. But, for a variety of reasons, we have tended to write in such a way that has limited our readership by limiting the type and diversity of characters we present. And there are readers out there that figure if they aren't important enough to be represented in our fiction then clearly they aren't important enough to be a part of our readership and they will take their dollars somewhere they feel welcomed and valued. (And don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that we should be interested in diversity only because it gives us the chance to make more money. But just from a practical standpoint, limiting your readership by deliberately restricting your pool of characters is just a dumbass move.)

I would suggest the solution to this call for diversity, to "fix" the problem of homogeneity in SF/F is as follows.
1. Be certain that each of us individually is doing our best to welcome a variety of voices into the genre. (Even the grumpy old white ones and newer liberal ball-busting ones, provided that folks are still being respectful of differences. It is possible, if not always easy, to disagree about certain issues and still respect folks as individuals.)
2. Write outside the box when we sort out our characters and settings. Think a little further afield than Tolkien or Jordan. Question why you might automatically make a character white/straight/male*. Assume that unless there is a specific reason why your characters shouldn't be diverse (i.e. your fictional planet is populated by clones) that they should be more reflective of reality. 
3. Consider whether your stories are excluding portions of your potential readership. Now, I don't ever suggest writing for a specific group of people (partly because I'm bad at that), but you can certainly look to see if you have included elements that you know will be offensive or which might be less inclusive** for no reason other than that's the way it's been done before.
4. Be passionate about what you write, no matter what color or gender or orientation your characters are. Because passion for your stories and your characters is what will appeal to readers. (Not your passion or support for a blanket type of fiction because down that road lies much ickiness.)

Because love for what you do is always going to be more appealing than disgust or hatred for what anyone else does.

*There is nothing wrong with straight-white-male characters. But we've seen a lot of them already, to the point that we tend to assume they are the best protagonist for any story. By reevaluating the instinct to have our protagonists be straight-white-males we give ourselves room for stories that are less formulaic or rehashing old tropes.

**Naturally, you can't include everyone in every story. But there are ways to avoid being exclusive, whether intentionally or unintentionally, if we put a little more thought into our story and character choices rather than chugging down the same old track which has already been chugged down a million times before.

"Just Write A Good Story"

There are always a lot of advice-pellets regarding writing.
"Show, don't tell."
"You can't fix what isn't on the page."
"The story starts where the action begins."
"A chapter/book is as long as it needs to be."

We've all heard them. We've probably repeated a few of them or even printed them out and taped them over our writing spaces. (Somewhere online is the certificate that gives each writer permission to write a crap first draft.)

Sometimes those pieces of advice get taken the wrong way or offered as absolutes.
"Never start with a prologue."
"Never start with a character in their everyday life."
"POV/description must move like a camera in a film."

And sometimes a good piece of advice turns into something else altogether.

There are several variations on "Just write a good story." Sometimes it's expressed more in line with "Write it all down and then see what works and what doesn't." Sometimes you hear "Kill your darlings." All different riffs on the idea that every plot point, every character, every scene, and every word should serve the purpose of creating an engaging story and plot points/characters/scenes/words that don't serve the story need to be cut.

This is excellent advice.

But lately I keep seeing the phrase "Just write a good story" paired up with "Stop trying to write a message book." It came up in response to a column suggesting we should look beyond a binary gender presentation in fiction. It's been used as an argument against female protagonists specifically and also female characters in general who are more than a romantic interest or family matron. More recently I've seen it bandied about as the shut-out argument against diversity in fiction and especially in the fantasy genre. And by diversity, I mean including folks who are PoC, QUILTBAG and women as characters who are more than just bit parts. (And also as bit parts because if a world is diverse, the whole damn thing is, not just the protagonist and his/her/ier buddies.)

The assumption in every case is that any of these things that (some)* readers and (some) authors are asking for are somehow exclusive of presenting a good story. That somehow, if you want to have a cast of characters that are not all white and/or all male and/or all straight and/or all cis and/or all abled, that this automatically makes the book a "political message" rather than a good piece of fiction.

There are a number of words I would love to use in response to that idea, but, as much fun as I have with obscenity, in this case it only lends itself to an attitude of outrage which isn't helpful. 

Instead, I will point out two things.

First, the call for diversity in fiction is not a "socio-political message" - it's a call for a reality check. A little research shows that diversity is not only a fact of life now, but it has been for hundreds and thousands of years. (Yes, there are places in the world which were isolated, but they were primarily small, rare and not white. Partly because the majority of the world... isn't white.) Presenting characters who come from culturally diverse background, characters who are not all straight or male or abled, is not a radical statement of how the world should be - it's a reflection of how the world actually is. Giving me a world in which all the heroes are straight, white, cis, abled men is not realistic, it's wishful thinking**. 

Secondly, choosing not to present a diverse world in fiction is just as much a political message as choosing to is. Which is to say, it presents a certain bias - either toward inclusion or exclusion - because we are unable to completely divest ourselves of our personal assumptions about the world. When we choose the elements of our fictional world we are presenting a message. Period.

It might be something simple.
"Love is all you need."
"Love isn't enough."
"In the end we all die."
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
"Every man for himself."
"All that is necessary for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing."
"Anyone can be a hero."
"Money is the root of all evil."
"There are ghosts in the corners of your mind."

Or even, "Boys are icky, let's throw rocks at them."

Every book has some message to it. That does not mean they are not good stories. Nor does it mean that a good story must be presented within a certain cultural framework. It doesn't even mean that stories with really blatant messages are somehow inferior. (Think of books like 1984 or A Clockwork Orange or Ender's Game or even Hard Times. They are not lesser books or stories simply because they have a visible message.)

So maybe the advice should not be "Forget the message," but rather "Recognize your message." And then write a damn good story.


*I say "some" because there are, clearly, folks who feel differently and like things just the way they are.

** Can there be a good story reason to have this presentation as the norm? Sure. But since that's not what we see in the world around us I consider it to be a speculative element, part of the "what if?" of the story and therefore there needs to be a reason for it.