Can Literature Survive Without Meat-By-Products?
Some of you may be wondering if today’s installment is going to be a rant about the excessive product placement of Alpo in literature, but I assure you it’s not. I do, however, want to discuss the role of “filler” in prose. I am four square opposed to filler in my reading material, filler being defined as unnecessary and excessive text, but I realize the more poetically inclined may disagree. Is it possible that Shakespeare with his, “Brevity is the soul of wit,” can be wrong?
Being a noob to this business of publishing, I admit I was taken aback when an agent recommended I lengthen my manuscript by fifty pages- justifying a higher retail price once my book hit the stores. The artist in me immediately went, “eww,” while the businessperson thought, “hmm.” Of course writers want to get paid massive amounts of cash, but does it have to be at the expense of the reader (the pun was purely unintentional- I swear. I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of the pun.)?
Has this happened to you? You go out and buy what looks like a nice juicy book, settle back in for a good read and find yourself skimming a paragraph here, a page or two there because the author has set up camp in some internal monologue or is waxing poetic about the scenery instead of moving ahead to the good stuff? I mean you’ve committed your time and concentration to this story and then you end up betrayed by these distractions; is there anything more irritating? Wait, yes there is: authors who repeat themselves. If you have to describe your character’s sorrow over being the last one chosen for dodge ball in spectacular detail, more than once, there’s either something wrong with you or you think there’s something wrong with me. Either way, that is a problem.
I’m a writer; I get that details are important in communicating mood and tone and so on and so forth, but isn’t there such a thing as overkill? If you’re trying to get across the idea that your story is set in a fire-ravaged office building, isn’t it possible to insinuate the ambiance instead of rattling off a laundry list of notables: haze of smoke as far as the eye can see- check; charred furniture melted to the floor- check, etc.? Couldn’t we just as easily squeeze these little details into the action instead of giving them center stage like you’d expect from a screenplay? Character A holds handkerchief over her nose and mouth to minimize her coughing as she and Character B stumble through the rubble assessing the damage. Over the course of the conversation part of the ceiling might crash in, startling the characters into a run for cover through holes that were once walls. Granted this might stifle the author’s word count, but isn’t this a more effective way of setting the scene? Shouldn’t keeping the reader entertained be a higher priority than listening to a writer’s verbosity? If you’re describing winter, a few choice words will suffice: cold, dead trees, snow- it’s winter, we get it! There is no reason to drone on for more than one modest sized paragraph about a description unless the thing in question comes back later and takes over the storyline. Even then I would still question the need. Anyone describing things for pages on end should be beaten with the quill pen they used to create such abominations.
For any of you poets out there who I may have offended, allow me to exempt you from the aforementioned beating. Poetry is not about getting to the point or moving forward a story, it’s about making things pretty. If you’re lucky enough to attract an audience who rhapsodizes over romanticizing the prosaic in this day and age, perpetuate your dyspepsia with adjectives; have at it and enjoy.
Even after pondering the filler issue at length, I am no closer to determining a solution that will fulfill the needs of commerce. I’m not a retailer or publisher so I have no idea what justifies the price of a book, but thickness of said book does seem to play a part. Is this what authors are encouraged to do, stuff their wares with superfluous fluff in order to impress? Are we being asked to sport our Wonderbras on the book shelves to bewitch the unsuspecting consumer? As in life is the A cup, full of wit and vision, relegated to the corner of the bar while the shiny double DDs of mediocrity are plied front and center with attention? Does success in publishing really come down to this: size matters?
I weep for our future.
