Fiction: Why Bother?

Fellow novelists out there, sweating away at your fictional plots and characters, have you ever stopped and asked yourself “Why bother?” The world is on fire. People are starving. Wars are ripping through whole countries. And we write stories that aren’t true, which large numbers of people read avidly. Are we helping at all—or are we downright hurting by distraacting from real life’s stakes?

Considering that fiction has been around since the time of the Egyptians at least, I suspect it serves some deeper human need than simply being “fake news”, and I’d like to reflect on that. Because sometimes, it’s good to remind ourselves that what we do has value beyond just scratching our own creative itch.

All Manner of Thing Shall Be Well

One thing a fictional story has going for it is that it’s controlled, unlike the wild ride of reality. Everything that shows up in a novel has meaning. Things fit together. Patterns appear. Ultimately, everything turns out OK. The bad guys are punished, their motivation is explained.  You might argue that history makes the same kind of contextual sense of any given moment’s events, but who lives long enough to see the pattern emerge over centuries of repetition? In a novel, everything is condensed into a couple of hundred pages. The Scheme of Things is revealed in time-lapse.

We need to see pattern and meaning around us. They make sense of suffering. They assure us that our efforts have significance in the long run. Otherwise we might just lose heart. I bet that people who read a lot of novels are more optimistic and more engaged than the run of humans, because they’re used to seeing protagonists battering their way through the obstacles of a plot to a meaningful denouement!

Look and Ye Shall See

We live on a beautiful planet—or perhaps, in this post-Hubble world, we have to say in a beautiful universe. Whatever happens around us, that beauty attests to order and wonder. Whether we attribute this to a benevolent divinity or just admire the Fibonacci sequence squirting up all over, it gives us a big surge of endorphins to notice beauty. Art of any kind trains us to recognize and appreciate the beautiful. When I read an exquisitely written passage in a book or poem, I feel like a pancake upon which a pitcherful of warm syrup has been poured. “Oh, wow!” It tingles. It thrills. I’m in a great mood, and my antennas are tuned to the sight of sunlight through the leaves around my window or the serene twilight sky. Let’s say it sensitizes the brain. Craft and aptness become important, and we appreciate them more wherever we see them. This is a general benefit, not just limited to an expansion of vocabulary, but that’s important too. It makes us a more receptive piece of the great puzzle.

Ein Heldenleben

Pardon the German—that means “a hero’s life,” and it’s the name of a piece of music by Richard Strauss. But it could be the subtitle of almost any novel, couldn’t it? Most of them recount at least an episode of some interesting person’s story. Perhaps they’re ordinary enough as people go, but times or events have forced them to step into a hero’s role. They have to confront a huge challenge, endure emotional or physical trials, or face an adventure they never dreamed they’d be able to tackle. And they come out victorious. When we read, we identify with the protagonist. We confont, endure, and tackle—and come out victorious. My childhood reading gave me the sense there was nothing I couldn’t do. Hadn’t these other ordinary kids survived in the wilderness, captured villains, and saved the world over and over? It didn’t matter that they were the products of some writer’s brain. The pattern was real… and empowering.

These are only a few of the nonfictional benefits of fiction. You’ve probably experienced others. We matter, folks. We’re doing real good by making up stories! If you ever feel like you’re wasting your time, shake it off and get back to writing. There’s a world out there that needs saving.