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The Inner Drives of Fictional Characters

You should know the motivation of each fictional character you create. What do they desire? What inner need compels them to act the way they do? I’ve blogged about motivation before, and I’ll build on that today.

Motivation versus Goals

Every major character may pursue a goal, too, but that differs from motivation. A goal is the outcome a character seeks, and motivation is why the character wants it.

Maslow’s Hierarchy

In my earlier post, I mentioned Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. The pyramid shape suggests a character must meet lower-level needs before pursuing higher levels. If an antagonist or other circumstance deprives a character of a lower-level need, the character will revert down to that need and pursue it.

Russell’s Theory

The British philosopher Bertrand Russell discussed motivations (calling them desires) in his 1950 speech accepting the Nobel Prize in Literature. He focused on the motivations of political leaders, because these, he thought, influenced human history the most. If you include a political leader in your fiction, Russell’s thoughts may interest you.

The philosopher named four major desires of political leaders—acquisitiveness, rivalry, vanity, and love of power. Put another way:

acquisitiveness = I want your stuff
rivalry = I want to surpass you
vanity = I want you to worship me
love of power = I want to control you

As Maslow did, Russell put his list of desires in a specific order, but in a more negative way. Perhaps an inverted pyramid makes more sense, for he ordered his group by strength. He rated acquisitiveness the weakest and love of power the strongest.

Moreover, he considered these needs insatiable. Like a snowball rolling downhill, the more you feed any of those needs, the bigger they get. No satisfied contentment awaits at the end.

Combining the Theories

Despite the differing approaches, I see parallels between Maslow’s positive list and Russell’s negative one. Acquisitiveness connects to Psychological and Safety needs—both concern material things and feeling secure. Rivalry connects to Belonging and Esteem—both concern relating with others. Vanity also connects to Esteem as well—both concern how the character is seen by others. Love of Power connects to both Esteem and Self-Actualization—both concern the achievement of full potential through creativity.

It’s Complicated

Perhaps, in trying to categorize and group motivations, both Maslow and Russell oversimplified matters. Humans exhibit a wide array of motivations, not just the ones listed by those two thinkers. Your fictional characters may act out of any motivation you choose, from an infinite list.

As you create characters, you may find Maslow’s pyramid and Russell’s list useful as a starting point. Feel free to add nuance and variation when determining what drives your characters.

Whatever my own motivation, concluding this blogpost is the immediate goal of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 8, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink 2 Comments

Is it Really About Who You Know?

In the fiction writing business, how much depends on what you know and how much on who you know? (Yes, English teachers, I know that should be ‘whom.’ Sorry.)

In a recent post, poet Damiana Andonova discussed the importance of establishing and maintaining a network of useful contacts to help your writing career. That caused me to wonder about the what-you-know/who-you-know dichotomy as it applies to fiction writing. The age-old conundrum exists for people in all fields, of course, but I’ll limit my discussion to authors.

The who-you-know method conjures the image of hitching your wagon to a star. Poet Ralph Waldo Emerson coined that phrase, though he meant something different from aligning yourself with an up-and-comer so you can rise. I’m referring to that modern interpretation.

Who You Know

Advocates of this school believe in the power of networking. Where’s the value in writing amazing prose if the right editors never see it? You can learn so much by connecting with other writers, editors, and agents. Not only learn, but—let’s face it—editors and agents would rather not take a chance on a fresh unknown, and would prefer to work with someone they know and can depend on. The sooner you become that someone, the sooner your writing career will succeed.

Those who hold this view contend that all famous writers, every one of them, established and maintained a strong relationship with one or more editors, agents, and publishers. How could a writer become famous without that?

What You Know

Adherents of this school believe everything starts with what you know. Unless you write well first, you’ll never form the network at all. No agent or editor will champion a writer who crafts low-quality prose, and they won’t stick with a skilled, one-book writer after the pitcher of creative juice runs dry.

Hone the craft, they say. Put your effort into churning out product. If you write it, they will come. Yes, famous writers can point to a network, but they didn’t become famous without a lot of readers, and readers want good writing.

Taken to Extremes

You may stretch both views too far. A who-you-know writer may schmooze and flatter while dashing off mediocre drivel. A what-you-know writer may scribble in the basement by candlelight, generating wondrous masterpieces that crumble to dust, unread. Neither extreme appeals to me.

The Elusive Balance

A compromise seems the wise course. But where’s the balancing point? To be specific, what percentage of time should a writer devote to writing versus networking?

On a line segment with ‘who you know’ at one end and ‘what you know’ at the other, the optimum point between them will present a problem no matter where it lies. In general, extrovert writers enjoy networking and introverts hate it.

As with many other areas of life, success requires leaving your comfort zone and enduring the distasteful but necessary tasks.

Worse, I suspect the optimal balance point varies from writer to writer, and even shifts over time. In other words, you have to find your own optimum, and wherever it is, you won’t like it. Even if you learn to accept it, it will move somewhere else on the line to a place you won’t like.

Don’t Get Me Wrong

I mean no disrespect toward Damiana Andonova and am not criticizing the points she made in her blogpost. I’m delighted she found success. She attributes a good part of that to networking, and no doubt she’s right. I suspect she writes marvelous poetry, though, and therefore what she knew played a role as well.

My Own Balance

Though I scribble in the basement by candlelight, I must acknowledge the people in my own network. The employees at Gypsy Shadow Publishing and Pole to Pole Publishing as well as several editors at other publishers have been of enormous help to me. I’m grateful to them all.

Each of those stars has towed the wagon of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 1, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink Leave a comment

Busting 10 Myths About Writing Fiction

You’ve thought about writing fiction. However, the moment you did, your inner critic bashed the notion and rolled out ten reasons you shouldn’t. Your inner critic was wrong. Today, I’ll bust those myths about writing fiction.

10. I don’t have time to write.

In one sense, your inner critic was right about that. You don’t have time to write. Neither do I. No writer does. We all make time for it. We deliberately carve out time out of our day for writing, no matter how brief it may be.

9. I could never write as well as [insert your favorite author’s name].

Since you’ve never tried, how would you know? Even if it’s true, who cares? You’re aiming at the wrong target. Adjust your aim to write as well as you can.

8. I’ve led a dull life. If I write what I know, it’ll be a dull book.

If you had suffered a troubled past, that would give you much to write (with authority) about. But you’ll have to admit—your past wasn’t all dull. You experienced fear, pain, triumph, loss, and love. Remember those emotions and write about them. More important than writing what you know is writing what you feel.

7. I don’t know all the English rules well enough.

This ain’t English class. Editors and publishers won’t quiz you on the difference between a reflexive pronoun and a ditransitive verb. They’d trade a hundred grammar experts and another hundred spelling bee champions for one great storyteller. You can learn the rules of English faster and easier than you can learn the craft of weaving a compelling tale.

6. I’ve heard you need a muse. I don’t have one.

Forget the muse. It’s a metaphor for creativity. I’ll give you two ways to increase your creativity, and each beats waiting around for an ancient Greek goddess to whisper in your ear. (1) Practice 20-solution brainstorming, where you write down 20 solutions to a problem without regard to workability or practicality. Don’t stop until you reach 20. (2) Channel your 5-year-old former self. You were creative then.

5. I don’t know the ‘author tricks.’

Of course you don’t. That’s because all the highest-paid authors belong to a secret society, and you haven’t been initiated. Wait, no. There’s no such secret society and no author tricks. What worked for others won’t work for you, and vice versa. You’ll have to figure out your own tricks, like everyone else. Many authors have written how-to-write books, but there’s no sure-fire formula in this biz.

4. Writers are introverts and I’m an extrovert.

You may be extroverted, but writers come in all personality types. If the thought of writing alone bothers you, collaborate with another writer. Or attend a party after each writing session, to get back in your comfort zone.

3. I’ll get stuck and suffer from writer’s block.

Maybe. Probably. It never lasts long. Whatever inner force compels you to write will insist you resume at some point. If you listen to that voice inside, it will help you get unstuck.

2. All the best stories have already been written.

Maybe that’s true. So what? More stories get published now than ever before, so that excuse doesn’t seem to be stopping other writers. One thing’s for sure—your best story hasn’t been written, and you’re the only one who can do it.

And the number one myth about writing is—

1. I won’t make any money from writing.

Hmm. What a coincidence. All the highest paid authors in history likely had that same thought at some point. It might end up being true in your case, but you can’t know that yet. Most writers keep their day job until their writing income grows to a point that they feel comfortable quitting that job. Maybe you’ll end up loving writing so much that you won’t care so much about the money.

There. I’ve busted the top ten myths about writing fiction. What’s your next excuse? Whatever it is will soon get demolished by the sledge hammer belonging to—

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 25, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink Leave a comment

Write for 2 Audiences

If you write genre fiction, you write for two sectors of the reading public. Problem is, they want opposite things. What do you do?

For any genre—and I’ll use science fiction as my example—you’ll have two types of readers. Let’s call them Experts and Newbies. You’d like both of them to buy and enjoy your books.

Experts

The first type knows the genre well. Scifi experts can quote the Three Laws of Robotics, have a ball lecturing you about Dyson Spheres, reveal the universal question for which the answer is 42, and babble on about Babylon 5. They read often, and crave the most recently published stories, and prefer them crammed with all the technologies and the latest scientific discoveries.

Newbies

Don’t take that term the wrong way. We all start as newbies. The newbie takes a chance when buying your book. Despite harboring doubts about scifi, the newbie remains curious and willing to learn. The newbie may not know a warp drive from a hard drive, but likes a good story as long as it doesn’t confuse.

These two types differ in their approach to what I’ll call New Stuff and Tropes.

New Stuff

I mentioned experts seek technology and scientific discoveries. They want the latest, the cutting-edge, the most imaginative concepts. Give them the New Stuff. Not only that, they want the full explanation. What’s it look like? How is it powered? How fast does it go? What languages can it speak? You could write many pages of convincing technobabble without boring an expert.

Newbies don’t delight in New Stuff. It’s all new to them. They just want to know how the characters feel about the new stuff and how it affects the plot. Any paragraph that reads like a technical manual annoys them, maybe enough to stop reading.

Tropes

With tropes, the situation reverses. Here, I using the term to refer to technology or concepts well known to readers of the genre. Expert readers get your meaning as soon as you mention wormholes, the multiverse, generation ships, FTL, or cryosleep. If you go further to explain the trope, experts feel insulted.

Newbies, by contrast, get stumped by tropes. These strange words and phrases serve as an ejection seat to launch them out of the story. Just a brief definition would save newbies from frustration.

The Balance

As a writer, you’d like to please both types. When it comes to New Stuff, you should aim for just enough explanation to satisfy experts, but not so much that it bores newbies. With Tropes, seek the briefest definition to help out the newbies. Better yet, define the term in context so newbies can catch the meaning and experts don’t get exasperated.

At a critique group meeting recently, one member criticized my manuscript, saying I hadn’t defined an unfamiliar term, but that member managed to glean what it meant. Another group member knew the term, and said I shouldn’t bog down the prose with further explanations.

I’d achieved balance.

The Signal Technique

Say you’ve got some new stuff in your story. You want to explain it all for the benefit of experts without making newbies nod off. Perhaps the signal technique will work. At the beginning of a paragraph, provide a signal to the reader that a long description follows. If you make the signal clear enough, the expert reads on with eagerness and the newbie skims or even skips that part.

This method might work as well for tropes. Here the signal tells experts they may skip an upcoming explanation without missing anything, while the newbies should read the paragraph to understand the unfamiliar jargon.

Jules Verne mastered that technique. Known for including long lists, he provided unmistakable signals in advance. It’s as if a hypertext alert pops up from the page saying, “Uninterested readers may skip this next part.”

Summary

Needless to say, I’ve simplified things in this discussion of two audiences. Your readers span a spectrum from newbie to expert and all points in between. You can write for them all if you keep their preferences in mind. Maybe, for your next book, one member of your reading audience might be—

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 18, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink Leave a comment

Entwining External and Internal Journeys

Often, the best stories show us two journeys. In one, the protagonist contends with an outside force, possibly another person, to confront and resolve a problem. We call that the plot. The other journey takes place within the protagonist’s mind and involves emotions, beliefs, personality, and, in the end, learning and change.

You’ll find a nice overview of this in editor and writing coach Ley Taylor Johnson’s post here and I encourage you to read it. My post emphasizes different points but (I hope) expresses the same overall view.

The 4 Aspects

Johnson says your main character should have a want, an obstacle, a need, and a flaw. She states them in that order since that’s the sequence for revealing them in the story.

The character wants something, and that strong desire provides motivation. However, the obstacle stands in the way. The obstacle could be a person, some aspect of the setting, or some other negative force. You should establish the want and the obstacle early.

Later, introduce the character’s need. The need is the reason for the want, and goes deeper than the want. The need is the underlying, emotional, psychological, or philosophical answer to the question, “why does the character want what she wants?” The character may be unaware of the need early on.

Most often, protagonists also suffer from a flaw. Like the need, the flaw resides within the character—a personality defect, a phobia, a suppressed memory, etc. As with the need, the character may be unaware of the flaw at the beginning, or might have grown accustomed to concealing it.

How the 4 Aspects Relate

The want and the need both propel the character forward. The obstacle and the flaw oppose that movement. The want and the obstacle are, most often, tangible and external to the character. The need, as mentioned before, explains the want—providing the underlying reason for it. The want may not last to the end, or may change. The character may abandon the want. But the need usually does not change, though it may be satisfied at the end.

How do the obstacle and the flaw relate? The obstacle, whether wittingly or not, preys on the flaw, targets and exploits it. While the obstacle appears early, the flaw may lurk unseen until late, though the writer might provide hints of the flaw all along. In the end the character must confront both the obstacle and the flaw, and resolve, in some way, the problems they create.

The Journeys

In the external journey, the character pursues the want but is stymied by the obstacle. When asked what a book is about, a reader often answers with this external journey, the plot.

The internal journey takes place in a different realm, one of doubts, fears, bouts of sadness, joys, thoughts, prejudices, mindsets, etc. Within her mind, the character journeys first to understand the need and eventually to attain it, despite being opposed by the flaw.

The Journeys Intersect

Much of the time, the external journey moves forward through action and dialogue, leaving only brief moments for a character’s fleeting thoughts. A good writer won’t let the internal journey slow the pace of the most intense scenes of the external journey.

Use the down-times between high-tension scenes to allow the internal journey to come to the fore. During these interludes, the character takes time for reflections, deeper thoughts, realizations, revelations, and learning—progress on the internal journey.

In the end, both journeys reach completion. The external journey features the character confronting and overcoming the obstacle to either attain the want, or to achieve a larger goal. The internal journey shows the character confronting and overcoming the flaw to satisfy the need.

Perhaps two other journeys end here, as well. You’ve finished reading this blogpost, and the writing has been completed by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 11, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink Leave a comment

Infrequently Asked Questions

Every topnotch website offers a FAQ page. I’d like to add one to this website, but, frankly, you fans haven’t held up your end of the deal. You haven’t asked me enough questions to count any as ‘frequent.’

However, I can ask myself questions, and even answer them. (Hmmm…Do you suppose that’s what’s really going on with most FAQ lists?)

Here’s my list:

Q: Who are you?
A: I’m Steven R. Southard, stirrer of imaginations, weaver of yarns, and your tour guide for grand adventure.

Q: Why would I want to buy your books?
A: To satisfy a yearning in your soul, to complete the missing puzzle piece of your life, and to immerse yourself in amazing new worlds.

Q: What do you write?
A: Science fiction, often inspired by my time as a submariner and engineer.

Q: Why do you write?
A: To let the stories out and keep them from piling up inside. My skull can only stand so much pressure.

Q: What do you typically write about?
A: I enjoy problem-solving and technology. Most often, my characters face complex challenges and must grapple with strange and unproven technologies.

Q: Why do you call yourself Poseidon’s Scribe?
A: It fits me, and attracts a bit of attention. How do I know that? It made you curious enough to ask the question, didn’t it? For a more complete answer, see this blogpost.

Q: What authors inspired you?
A: Readers of my blog know my top answer—Jules Verne. Following him, I’d add Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, and Ray Bradbury.

Q: Do you write anything other than short stories?
A: So far, you can only buy my short stories. In the near future, I hope to get some novels published. I dabble in poetry, but only for fun.

Q: Do you have any upcoming book signings, readings, or convention appearances?
A: They’re less frequent than I’d like. I’ll create a Schedule page on this site for that, and make every effort to update it.

Q: What contemporary authors write stories like yours?
A: In terms of story subjects, not literary skill, I’d say Eric Choi, Ray Nayler, and Allen Steele.

Q: What are you working on now?
A: Two novels, a travel book, and two poems. In other words, too much.

Q: I’ve got a sure-fire idea for a story you should write. How do I contact you about putting it into words to finish it up?
A: Tell you what (and I don’t offer this deal to everybody)—if you write the story, I’ll let you take full credit and you can pocket all the resulting royalties.

Few people have asked me any of those questions, so they qualify as ‘infrequently asked.’ I’m certain I failed to ask or answer your most pressing question, so feel free to leave a comment and fire away. Remember to address your inquiry to—

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 4, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink 2 Comments

Homo Scriptor

A potential Wikipedia entry:

Homo Scriptor

The writing human (Homo scriptor) is a subspecies of Homo sapiens, differing from H. sapiens only in its highly developed skill in writing. Though most humans write to some extent, Homo scriptor writes as an obsession, often to the exclusion of other activities.

Etymology

The genus Homo refers to human and the subspecies designation of scriptor (from Latin) refers to a person who writes.

Taxonomy and Phylogeny

Homo scriptor is a subspecies of Homo sapiens, member of the tribe Homanini, the family Hominidae, the order of primates, in the class Mammalia. H. scriptor has not yet split off from H. sapiens, and mating between the two can occur, but scientists believe sympatric speciation (the splitting apart into separate species) may be underway.

Description and Characteristics

In appearance, H. scriptor is indistinguishable from H. sapiens. Specimens of H. scriptor are present in the same genders and races as H. sapiens, in approximately the same proportions. Behavior is the only distinguishing indicator between the two.

Distribution and Habitat

Scientists estimate the world population of H. scriptor at around 400,000, perhaps 1 in every 20,000 humans. Homo scriptor has accompanied H. sapiens to every continent. They cluster in cities, as does H. sapiens. They occupy the same types of dwellings, though H. scriptor insists on one quiet space within the abode for solitude, writing, and the storage of books.

Behavior

Diet

H. scriptor eats the same foods as H. sapiens, but prefers to spend less time in obtaining, preparing, and consuming the food, to leave more time for writing.

Locomotion

H. scriptor walks in the same bipedal manner as H. sapiens, but less often, since writing is a sedentary activity.

Reproduction and Parenting

H. scriptor mates in the same manner as H. sapiens. However, for H. scriptor, the sexual act provides an additional benefit—research for a future book.

Any combination of H. sapiens and H. scriptor parents may result in either H. sapiens or H. scriptor offspring. Scientists have not yet identified the genetic markers for H. scriptor.

Social Structures

The main and subspecies share a mutualistic symbiotic relationship. H. sapiens seeks and pays for the product (books) of H. scriptor’s work. H. scriptor writes books for H. sapiens’ enjoyment and receives payment in return. With both symbionts achieving benefits, this relationship seems likely to continue. The two freely associate in complex social structures, though H. scriptor may seem aloof and isolated.

Communication

Since the advent of written language in the late 4^th millennium BCE, H. scriptor has exceeded H. sapiens in this activity, both in quality and quantity. On the other hand, H. sapiens surpasses H. scriptor in nearly all other human activities. The written language prowess of H. scriptor does not typically extend to other forms of communication. For example, H. scriptor may not speak any better than H. sapiens, and when the writer subspecies does speak, the topic is often about writing.

Cultural Significance

With the exception of non-written language arts, such as music, sculpture, and painting, Homo scriptor provides culture for Homo sapiens. All novels, short stories, plays, song lyrics, newspapers, motion picture scripts, television scripts, and Wikipedia entries were written by members of H. scriptor for the enjoyment of H. sapiens. Due to the symbiotic relationship, the writer subspecies rarely writes about itself, but more often about the main species.

What Type of Writer are You?

After seeing a tweet by author Morgan Wright, I had to blog about this clever infographic by author Alexei Maxim Russell.

The Graphic

In humorous form, it depicts six types of writers. The graphic describes each, including a ‘plus side’ and ‘ugly side’ and provides famous examples of all but one.

Russell depicts, using amusing exaggeration, six motivations for writing—creativity, money, solitude, anger, success, and bitterness.

If you’re a writer, you’ll see yourself in at least one of those caricatures, and probably several. You may even detect an evolution of your writing efforts from one motivation to another.

My Self-Assessment

Based on those six, I’ve self-assessed the percentages of each at the beginning of my writing career, now, and where I hope to be.

When I started writing, I fit into the Space Cadet category, with a bit of Weird Recluse and Ray of Sunshine in the mix. Now, I’m more Ray of Sunshine, and starting to adopt Greasy Palm tendencies, but losing my Space Cadet and Weird Recluse attributes. In the future, I hope to be mostly Ray of Sunshine, a higher proportion of Greasy Palm, with a little Space Cadet left over.

I’ve never identified with the Angry Man or Bitter Failure types, and hope I don’t become them.

Other Types?

Did Russell leave some other types off his list? Possibly. I thought of two more:

The Evangelist. Writes to inspire others, always envisioning a better world. Plus side: positive and uplifting. Ugly side: can be seen as pollyannish and preachy. Possible Famous Evangelists: Stephen R. Covey, Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen
The Jester. Writes for laughs. Every line’s a joke. Plus side: there’s always a ready market for humor. Ugly side: eventually the jokes go stale and the well runs dry. Possible Famous Jesters: Mark Twain, Dave Barry, Bill Bryson

Your Self-Assessment

If we set aside the exaggerations of the infographic for a moment, you might find a benefit in identifying the motivations for your writing. As long as you avoid the Bitter Failure character, you can achieve a measure of success with any of the other categories.

Regarding the question in the title of this blogpost, what type of writer are you? Perhaps more important, what type do you aspire to be? Go ahead, you can tell—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 21, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink Leave a comment

Dying Writers, Dying Readers

Author Annie Dillard once wrote, “Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients.” The quote intrigued me. What did she mean?

Source

It’s from a 1989 essay in The New York Times titled “Write Till You Drop.” The paragraph continues, “That is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What would you say to a dying patient that would not enrage by its triviality?”

Picture the situation. You are near death and so are your readers. The pen and pad (or computer) sit before you. How would you write differently than you do now?

Answers?

As morbid as the thought experiment may seem, some answers to that question occur to me:

Don’t waste time. You haven’t much time for writing, nor do your readers for reading.
Don’t ‘enrage by triviality.’ Write about what’s important, vital to being human. Write the thing you’d regret not having written, the thing readers would regret not having read.
Don’t save your best for some later time. Don’t keep that masterpiece in reserve. There will be no later time.

Wonderful Concentration

English author Samuel Johnson said, “When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.” Dillard admonishes us to write that way all the time, with a wonderfully concentrated mind.

Socrates

Consider the last words of Socrates. At his trial he received a sentence of death. Imagine the ‘wonderful concentration’ of his mind as he drank hemlock and felt his limbs going numb. Some have reported his final words as, “Crito, we owe a rooster to Asclepius. Don’t forget to pay the debt.”

How can that be? On his deathbed, one of history’s greatest philosophers prattled about not having paid for a rooster? Is that not enraging by triviality?

Newer interpretations of those last words paint a different picture. Greeks considered Asclepius a god of medicine and the rooster a symbol of rebirth or eternal life, for it crows every morning. Some now think Socrates’ words a metaphor, a way of saying, “Athens may kill me, but philosophy lives on.” If so, that satisfies Ms. Dillard’s advice to write as if you were dying.

Triviality

Regarding the part of her advice referring to triviality, that confused me at first. What is trivial and what is not?

After all, author and politician Bruce Barton said, “Sometimes, when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to think that there are no little things.”

No little things? Aren’t they the trivial things?

Perhaps not. Mother Theresa said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

Ah, that might provide a clue regarding what Ms. Dillard meant by triviality. You may write about anything, large or small, but do so with great love. Use up every drop of your literary skill. It’s not the triviality of the subject, but the treatment of it by the writer.

In sports, we say a player ‘left if all on the field,’ meaning he gave it his utmost. I may be wrong, or I may be over-analyzing it, but that’s what I believe Annie Dillard meant in advising us to write as if we were dying, and as if our reading audience were dying as well.

If your next written sentence were your last, would readers say you ‘left it all on the field?’ Aim to write with a mind as wonderfully concentrated as that of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 14, 2024Poseidon's ScribePermalink Leave a comment

Get Ready for AI Bestsellers

Ask a chatbot to write a story and it will do so. You’ll find the result contains the correct story elements. However, if you do that today, the story won’t move you. You’d rate it at junior high school level, certainly not a classic.

That describes the state of artificial intelligence story-writing in mid-2024. From this, you might well conclude that AI will never write stories as well as the best human authors do.

Prediction

Indeed, author Fiona M. Jones is the latest to draw that conclusion. She asks “is there any realistic prospect of AI ‘improving’ to a point where it becomes indistinguishable from the work of creative writers? Maybe you can imagine it. I can’t.” She goes on to state “I am not afraid that AI bots will take my place as a writer.”

I intend no disrespect to Ms. Jones. Others share her opinion. I accept the possibility that her contention may prove correct.

Superiority Complex

However, it occurs to me that the history of our species includes several symptoms of a shared superiority complex. In each case, people erected a metaphorical pedestal for humanity, only to have science tear it down.

In cosmology, early depictions of the universe showed Earth at the center. Today, astronomers relegate our world to a backwater.
In zoology, humans have long regarded themselves as lords of the animal kingdom. We claimed to possess the largest brain, and to be the only creature that feels pain or happiness, that talks, that uses tools, that is self-aware. The march of science seems to be trampling this pedestal as well.

Story-writing Today

For now, humans stand, undisputed, atop the Best Story-writers pedestal, at least on this planet. We’ve stood there for thousands of years, so it seems natural to regard the honor as permanent.

At this moment, AI seems unlikely to unseat us from that perch. In that, I agree with Fiona M. Jones. We humans have written stories for thousands of years, and told them verbally far longer than that. AI chatbots have written stories for a much shorter time, a few years at best. Hardly a fair comparison.

AI chatbots learn fast. Very fast. They can memorize the entire internet. They do not die, and therefore don’t have to teach the next generation of chatbots to write. I expect them to write with more skill and originality soon. But could they surpass us?

Ms. Jones offers many good arguments, but they boil down to the fact that human authors write about the human condition, and chatbots can’t possibly understand the human condition as well as humans do.

Maybe. But consider that human fiction writers often convey the thoughts and emotions of non-human characters in their stories. These characters include gods, animals, plants, even inanimate objects. Given similar creativity and imagination, chatbots might become capable of conveying human thoughts and emotions in a convincing way, even though they’re not human.

Story-writing Tomorrow

You could measure a story’s quality by the intensity of emotion it produces in the reader. Once AI chatbots understand us better, what’s to prevent them from crafting stories evoking strong emotions?

When and if they do, what will that mean for human readers? For human writers? I’ve already explored some of these implications in a previous blogpost and won’t repeat them here.

I suggest we should not assume our present superiority will last. We may not remain forever at the center of the writing universe, at the pinnacle of writing prowess, standing atop the Best Story-writer pedestal.

It should not surprise us when the first AI-written novel tops the Best-Seller list. Even then, we should not dismiss that achievement as a novelty, a fluke, unlikely to repeat.

In the meantime, fellow human writers, I suggest we write and publish the best stories we can, while they still sell. That’s the course steered by—

Poseidon’s Scribe