Andrew Burt, the captain over at Critters, a very well-organised critique site, has re-published an article he wrote for the SFWA Bulletin, about the statistical difference between great SF and mediocre SF books in the way they use relationships, as worked out from a semi-scientific survey he’s carried out.
In summary, the better SF books pay more attention to relationships than the forgettable ones, though only slightly approaching how much attention mainstream books tend to pay. We’re not talking about romantic relationship melodrama here, but characters who actually have family and friends rather than existing in a vacuum.
There’s no need to make it the main focus of what is, after all, supposed to be a fantasy or science fiction story. In Burt’s analogy, it’s like a semi-arid desert, compared to the total desert of the mediocre stuff, and the rainforest of the Oprah stuff. Not that rainforest is bad if you like that kind of thing, of course.
I conceptualise this in terms of characters: I call such SF&F character-driven rather than plot-driven. But I think reference to relationships might be more accurate, since I, like many many readers, cannot stand those delicately crafted “character-driven” books which do not actually have any plot at all, just clever characters standing around saying clever things to each other. Do something! And so they go off and have an affair…oh, that was original, for the love of god, bring in the ray guns already.
I look at the speculative fiction I have loved over the last few years and the character’s relationships are what stands out to me. I look at the epic fantasy fiction I’ve given up on in disgust over the last few years, and the lack of any connection to the characters is what stands out to me. If I don’t connect to the characters, I don’t care about the plot, and if I don’t care about the plot, I stop reading the book. Or books, since it appears to now be impossible to produce a stand-alone fantasy fiction book in mainstream publishing.
The lesson is obvious for your own writing. You spend all that time on plot, and all that time on worldbuilding, and all that time on developing a lead character with real traits and flaws, and you stick him or her into the world…and then his or her interactions are superficial. He/she doesn’t really have friends, too much of the loner-hero for that. Family’s long gone, usually killed in some tragic accident or action by the villain. If he has a pet dog, that dog’s doomed. Pet cat? Probably safe, as long it can talk.
I know this makes things simpler in terms of getting on with the plot. I know many readers in the SF&F world clamour for plot. But Burt’s findings suggest that even a little bit of effort with relationships has the potential to turn a run-of-the-mill SF book into a classic, or at least a hit. Why wouldn’t you try it?
I think you could summarize this into:
–we want stories about people, their lives (problems and conquests) and how they feel about the other people in their world(s)’ lives
I loved Aburt’s article. Glad to see others found it nifty too.
Yes, it made for interesting reading. Let’s face it, if we all wanted plots instead of stories about people, we could read books summarised in a page and a half and technical manuals.
[...] 18, 2009 by Wendy Vaguely relevant to my recent post on Andrew Burt’s analysis that relationships elevate standard SF books into stand-out SF books, some guy over here bemoans moronic relationship drama in space. And how this means boys [...]