It isn’t easy, but I try to live by the philosophy that a
person should never claim to know anything, especially when it comes to another
person’s actions. When someone does something to us that we see as “bad,” we
can be quick to attach an explanation behind their behavior, usually to
exaggerate their poor disposition. The problem with this sort of reasoning is
that people’s lives are not a single thread forming from a single loom. There
are thousands of variables that come through our lives each and every day that
affect our conduct.
As I wrote my first draft, I frequently worried that people
would take a few specific actions committed by my characters and label them
immediately as bad people. In this black and white thinking, I’m reminded of a
passage from the Christian Bible, Matthew 7:16-18.
“…By their fruits you will know them. Do people pick fruits from thorn
bushes or figs from thistles? Every good tree bears good fruit and every rotten
tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree
bear good fruit…”
There are many interpretations of this particular passage,
but I tend to understand it as an unjust way of thinking. If the metaphor here
is that good people do good deeds and bad people do bad deeds, and that by
these actions we can know a person, I believe it fails. Of course good people
do bad things! It happens all the time; we snap at our children after a long
day, we cut others off in traffic because we’re in a hurry, we send
questionable text messages after having a few too many alcoholic beverages, and
yet we still believe that we’re ultimately good natured. And, after having
lived a few years, most of us are aware that bad people can occasionally do
good things as well. Just spend a few minutes reading the business section of
your local paper. You’re sure to find a business person who has donated money
to a good cause, all the while paying off lobbyists to fight against equal
rights. Most pertinent to this blog, it’s important to remember that blatantly
bad or purely good characters are simply boring.
Still, even knowing this, I worried that my future readers
would jump to conclusions. To compensate, I wrote long paragraphs after the
incriminating events to try and explain away any negative actions. This created
boring and redundant lulls in my work.
Eager to bring down my word count, these lulls were the
first areas I tackled. Before I deleted them I asked Kathryn if people
would understand my characters without these parts. She laughed at me and said,
“Yes!” I was, apparently, spoon-feeding my readers. For example:
“…the receptionist didn’t notice, or ignored, Erin and Thomas as they
jogged up the stairs, understandably dodging the five dollar entry fee.”
Oh, goodness. I look at this now and cringe. In this scene,
the main characters have recently become aware of a scandalous plot taking
place right beneath their noses and are being followed by a mysterious man. My
fear of snap judgments caused me to, unnecessarily, clarify that it made sense
for my beloved characters to dodge an entry fee.
Well, being able to identify these sorts of sentences for
what they are—mistakes—shows a level of growth and maturity as a
writer. I consider this an accomplishment. Learning what is and what is not spoon-feeding
can be difficult, and as much of a balance as walking a tight rope. The
difficulty to avoid this practice is not an excuse to allow it, but a reason to
continue evolving. As aspiring authors, we have to remember that using any sort
of spoon-feeding to get our points across is, in the end, insulting to our
audience and bad authorship.
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