Heh. So here it goes: What kinds of things do I not like in my fiction?
- Oodles of schmoopy, perfect, straight love. If I wanted in on a het love story I will send my significant other a text message and we will try to out-cheese each other.
- "Soulmate" love. "Foe Yay" seems to so much better in that the angst is more believable and there is actual logic in both pining for the other! Okay, enough
abuse of italics. Just because most every printed and celluloid romance out there is beating the same dead horse and for the love of Mike have you guys even met each other or are you both just incredibly gone on someone else with the same name but hates you, doesn't mean I can't exercise a little self-restraint.
- Killing the Cutie. I mean, I love the underdog as much as the next girl, but there's a fine line between tragic embattled hero and punching bag.
Now, for the winning ingredients:
- Snappy dialogue. It's kind of sad how very little snappy dialogue there is in my life right now. Or maybe I was just spoiled in my youth. Where are the pithy comments, the deadpan comebacks, the conversations that sound like all participants are stoned or seeing in chartreuse?
- Friend face time. No matter how much there is of it, there should always be more. Because if life can't stop sucking the least it can do is to make sure one doesn't suffer alone and that everyone gets an equal opportunity to laugh at someone else biting the dust for a change. And it's less humiliating when you have someone to make your excuses to.
- Fantasy. def. noun: Things that don't just happen in "real life." ° Things that apparently happen to other people but not to me, because life occasionally forgets to win. ° Things that are only fun to explore vicariously because otherwise it would be too messy, too smelly, too far away, too difficult, too expensive, too impossible, too embarrassing or just plain too much hard work. ° Things that are entertaining provided that they are happening to other people. (But not too much, because I still believe what comes up must come down sometime.)
So in conclusion I say that what is appealing to me in my fiction is that it be fictional. If such fiction aspires to imitate life then it should actually contain details that make sense in the real world and not just half-baked handwaved explanations unless such handwaving is spectacularly preferable over the genuine article. The escapists of this world are therefore encouraged to rock on.