While I was deep into last week’s musings on magic, free-writing got me off on a tangent, as it tends to do. This tangent had me think about elements of fantasy and other speculative fiction that can easily become gratuitous.
The word “gratuitous” – usually followed by “sex” and/or “violence” – is often associated with yet another installment of the latest blockbuster movie or video game franchise. Followed by a rant about how it’s responsible for the Corruption of Our Children. While that theory has largely been debunked (and to some extent replaced by casting social media in the same role), there are other issues here that are relevant to writing.
So, what do I mean when I say “gratuitous”? Basically, any element of writing that’s used for its own sake instead of serving a deeper story purpose.
In Fantasy, magic is often a prime example. Since the author’s imagination’s the only limit, there’s a real risk that magic will become gratuitous and devolve into beautifully scripted but ultimately empty fireworks. The same goes for violence. If an invincible paragon mows down faceless enemies like so many stalks of grain, there might be hair-raising fight scenes, but not necessarily any emotional investment and therefore no reason for the reader to care.
There’s one crucial element that rescues magic as well as violence from being gratuitous: Consequences – and not just for those on the receiving end. All too often, the hero breezes through every fight and comes out unscathed. Well, maybe a decorative scratch or two, but definitely no serious injury (unless there’s a magician on stand-by to handwave even the worst injuries away – don’t even get me started). Beyond that, many heroes these days are the sensitive kind. The kind who rescue kittens, help the needy, and not only put up with but enjoy being around children. And then they turn around and kill a bunch of bad guys without even a niggle of conscience. For them, nothing uncool like trauma or PTSD. Sorry, but I don’t buy it. If you really want your heroes to be so inured to violence that they laugh it off, make them psychopaths. It might not endear them to some readers, but at least it’ll be believable (well, yeah, I do write grimdark).
Magic and violence are not the only things that can be gratuitous in Fantasy. There’s sex, of course, especially in the type of work that fails the Bechdel test, but it sneaks even into otherwise layered and thoughtful stories. Nuff said.
And then there’s the gratuitous language department. I admit, I’m guilty. My protagonist has a foul mouth. Probably fouler than it needs to be. However, gratuitous language doesn’t end at four-letter words. On the flip side, there are the pretty words. Luscious descriptions, poetic metaphors, lyrical prose. I admire a beautifully turned phrase, an evocatively rendered sentiment, as much as the next person, but there’s a danger of too much of a good thing. When character development and plot take a step back to overly polished language, the author yanks back the curtain and prances on stage. It might just be me, though, because there’s many an award-winning book whose fancy language turned me off. What’s gratuitous to me is the height of literary prowess to others.
Every reader draws their own line for what is or isn’t gratuitous, of course, but why take the risk? If each action has real consequences for those who are acted upon as well as for those who act, it can only serve to deepen the emotional impact on the characters and, by extension, the reader.