Writing And: Themes

Here I sit once more, an Italian Car Bomb (coffee with a shot of espresso—my first time for this particular drink) by my side. Interestingly, I just came from two classes that began to explore my post for today; that is, concerning theme in writing.

Once again, a theme is not inherent in writing. All of us have one of these friends, at least; the person who tells story after story, with no point other than to talk. And sometimes, when we don’t pay attention, we conceive of a story and write it down in much the same manner. It has beginning, middle, and end to make Aristotle proud; it has fully fleshed out characters, real and believable; the setting matches the characters beautifully maybe even; and the prose comes straight from an amalgam of all our favorite authors.

But there’s no point. I can remember attending a writing club which seemed to consist of local writers getting together and pounding themselves on the back over great lines they had crafted. They would demand silence, read their line as Branagh does Shakespeare; they would look up as if stunned by their own creation, and exclaim: “Isn’t that a great line?!” And of course, the other wordies would offer their praise and adulations.

But you can pile great line on top of great line, like Neapolitan cake; but if the cake is not filling, it is worthless. Story does not just mean “narration.” Lots of people can create a narrative; but what’s the theme? Why is someone reading this?

In my previous class, my professor asked the question of how stories should be written; should they all have happy endings, in order to encourage? Should they all be Cinderella-esque in order to be “good” in an ethical and moral sense, not just an aesthetic sense. Some would immediately retort that such stories are in no way aesthetically pleasing; jaded and worn of the “happy ending” stories which do not match their life in even a shadow, they reject it instantly and search for something else.

I would argue that the purpose of a novel, or a work of fiction more broadly, is not to mimic, every step of the way, the life of the reader. Such books are dangerously escapist, but simply transporting the reader out of their life and returning them, like a round-trip plane ride that never lands except upon returning to the same point of departure. Rather, a story should promote something to the reader; not preaching, unless your objective is to recreate Aesop’s fables, or to mirror Chaucer. But upon reading your story, the reader should have questions about his or her own life; sometimes, that is achieved with a happy ending; sometimes it is done with the most horrible and twisted ending as the reader thinks, terribly, is that where I am headed?

The point of making the characters relatable, as any good teacher will instruct, should not just be there to “hook” the reader, to make the character sympathetic; rather the reader should relate to the character so that as the character learns and grows, the reader may learn and grow as well.

Thus far, I have been speaking generally of all books and stories; that every author should seek to teach their readers, on the sly almost, through their stories. However, on Friday, I will discuss something a little more specific, and something a little closer to home for me. Join me then.