Monday, January 9, 2017

Fake News and Post-Truth: Does truth matter… or even exist?




“Does truth exist?” When I stumbled on this question on GoodReads, I rolled my eyes. Sophomoric, dorm room rap-session stuff.  But the more I thought, the more I realized the inquiry relevant in contemporary “post-truth” society, rife with “fake news.


My take is that facts matter, since they get us closer to reality.  So by ignoring facts, fake news is dangerous. You cannot even run a household without facts. Like your checking account balance and electric bill amount.


Imagine ignoring those facts. You don’t like your utility, so you skip paying your electric bill. And you “pretend” your balance is higher than listed, so you write checks over your real balance.


The result? Checks bounce, and they cut-off your electricity.


Rationalizations and emotional fantasies DO NOT alter reality. In fact, they often lead to reality sneaking up on and smacking us. So basing political opinions on fake news can be dangerous.


Problem I see is that fake news exploits emotion. Consider that Facebook’s most shared “news story” over October was fake, containing conversations and emails that never happened. It’s untrue title is bombastic --  "Wikileaks CONFIRMS Hillary Sold Weapons to ISIS… Then Drops Another BOMBSHELL!" Worse, this is only one of many fake news stories that floated around Facebook in the election’s final weeks.


It’s one thing to dislike Secretary Clinton for her record or personality. It’s another to dislike her due to lies.


Put metaphorically, “Don’t write a check on a fake report. It’ll bounce.”

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Stronger Together, But So Far Apart*

Great American Melting Pot
I was wrong.

I’m a white Catholic with a college degree, just short of a masters. I test as moderate on political tests (like this Vox questionnaire). And near 50, I’m no longer a starry-eyed idealist.

But I grew up believing in the Schoolhouse Rock song “The Great American Melting Pot” reflected America. I thought our openness made America American.

I was wrong.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve lived most of my life in multicultural blue-areas: Cleveland, Columbus (OH) and Los Angeles. But I love, and have always loved, meeting people from different cultures. They’ve enriched my life.

Heck, I got straight A’s in university Spanish by conversing with Mexican cooks and dishwashers in the restaurant I worked in. I ate tasty goat and lamb kabobs at a Persian colleague’s wedding. And had an Indian friend whose parents were members of Gandhi’s non-violent “army.”

Etc.

Each interaction enlarged my America. Exposure made me less about me, more about them, and enlarged my sense of “us.”

Back in January, I reckoned 75% plus white people dug Schoolhouse Rock, and would reject Trump. Sure, I understood that racists exist. I’ve got a brash and vocal racist uncle. But in my worldview, racists were the butt of Mel Brooks jokes in Blazing Saddles. “You've got to remember that these are just simple farmers. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know... morons.”  

I was wrong.

Further, our forebears faced xenophobia. “Irish need not apply.” Labeling Italians, many of whom were here illegally, as WOP’s (Wop is short for WithOut Papers). The hunting of Catholics and Mormons. Etc. I figured their descendants would remember.

I was wrong.

It turned out that I’m an outlier among white males, who based on exit-polling voted 70% for Trump. And their number one issue was immigration.

Not that I’ll ever change my mind. I will still be open to people, regardless of race, color, creed or sexual orientation. But I now see that racism and anti-”them” xenophobia lie at the heart of many white Americans’ worldviews. Worse, I’ve seen a populist Trump ride that wave to victory.

I still say, “God bless America.” But my view of America has changed. Even in jaded middle age, reality can still shred your remaining ideals.

Who knew?

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Using the 7 “Primitive” Defense Mechanisms to Juice-Up Your Characters

Defense mechanisms.

We all use them to protect ourselves when reality gets "real". Problem is, they're easy to locate in others -- just read the personal sniping in the comments section of any political article. But they're hard to see in ourselves. Since seeing oneself objectively takes hard work.

Perhaps that explains why writers seldom employ defense mechanisms in their characters. Since when behind a point-of-view character's mind, we identify with them. And thus, find fessing-up to having blind-spots makes us uncomfortable? Who knows.

Regardless, when characters use the same defense mechanisms we all do, they become believable. Not despite, but because of their contradictions. And once learned, defense mechanisms are easy to deploy in your work. And once deployed, they add depth with scant effort.



Fiction Writer's Guide to the 7 "Primitive" Defense Mechanisms

1) Denial 

We deny reality to avoid the pain of having our preconceived notions shattered. We may be so afraid of something harmful, and thus ignore it.

To illustrate, consider this line uttered in the emergency room by a patient suffering from cirrhosis of the liver. “Do I drink? You mean alcohol, like an drunk? Hell, no. I only drink beer.”

2) Regression 

At age 36, actor Sean Penn found a paparazzi photographer hiding in his hotel room. A healthy adult in their mid-30’s would call security to remove the man, and perhaps press charges. Penn, however, acted like an adolescent, dangling the man from his 9th story balcony.

That’s regression. When facing a stressful event, we “regress” to an earlier stage of development.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Why Adverbs Suck for Fiction Writers (unless you need them)

Kill your adverbs -- except the ones you need.
by Leo Walsh.
The first agent I met at a 1990’s writers’ conference table glowed after hearing my novel pitch. She loved the idea, a Shakespearean tragedy with Ninja warriors on a science fiction world. So I handed her my the first chapter. She read, scowling, and thrust it back saying, “Adverbs, adverbs, everywhere… kill ‘em, then stop by again.” 
Confused, I skulked away. Kill adverbs? Why limit your linguistic toolkit? 
 Well, that agent was right. Overusing adverbs weakens your writing. To Illustrate, I lifted some text from an early-draft of a thriller I started but lost interested in. The section isn’t bad. And yet, it contains three “problem” adverbs that weaken the writing. These problems many plague writer’s group submissions I’ve read.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Genre versus Literary Fiction – Are The Two are Meeting in the Best 21st Century Novels?

A man reading great books
by Leo Walsh.
My late-80's humanities professors -- and the powerful critics who influenced them -- focused student attention on hard-to-read works: like Ulysses by James Joyce, JR by William Gaddis and Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon. Each took work to understand. But once you solved the puzzle each author posed, these books told gripping, humorous and psychologically and sociologically complex tales.
My teachers said these novels laid-bare the path towards literature’s future. They took the high-Modernist experiments of Virginia Woolf and James Joyce and would catapult them into the 21st Century.
Problem is, the critics failed to notice that those high-art techniques, though effective, also had limitations. For instance, when James Joyce tried to reproduce a Dubliner’s sleeping consciousness in Finnegans Wake, the entire artifice falls apart. The story gets buried under layers of language and allusion that most people find incomprehensible. Even people like me, who loved Ulysses, despised Finnegans Wake.
Because, unlike Finnegans Wake,  Ulysses told a story a regular person could follow -- albeit after work.. And despite some hyper-creative word-play and experimentation, the novel’s humanity shone through the often-thorny text.
Finnegans Wake's failure should have set alarms blaring.
Unfortunately, it didn't. The critics and academics held fast. And predicted that 21st Century writing would grow ever more complex.
They were wrong.

Monday, July 15, 2013

7 Steps to Effective Copy-Editing

Most writers need an Intellgent Editer [misspellings intentional]
Most writers need an Intellgent Editer [misspellings intentional]
(Major Clanger from Flickr


by Leo Walsh.

You can find his science fiction novel even snow melts on Amazon.


Like most writers, I loathe editing. It is boring, time-consuming – but necessary. Copy-editing requires detachment. Which is difficult, since we all tend to get attached to our work – an issue I addressed earlier using the lens of Behavioral Economics' IKEA Effect.

As an indie writer, I can not afford to hire an editor. And editing my first novel, even snow melts, took me a long time.

I realized that humans struggle with new tasks: assuming I would edit better as I grew more experienced. This seems universal. But not with editing. Months later, however, I still sucked at copy-editing.

I realized a truism: “I had no process for efficient and effective editing.” And processes at work – from checklists to project management flow charts – make me more effective than many.

But how do you bring in rational process so it does not kill the creative sparkle? I think I succeeded. But it required discovering a free online copy-editor called Pro Writing Aid (http://prowritingaid.com/).

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Don't Badger Readers with the "Never-Ending Plot Line"

You want me to read 20,000 pages to get to the punchline?
You want me to read 20,000 pages to get to the
punchline? (Titanic Belfast on Flickr)

...Learning from Ursula K. Le Guin, Roger Zelazny, Terry Pratchett and C.K. Chesterton

by Leo Walsh

Creative writing, like all arts, lacks rules: There is no algorithm that will provide a reliable best seller every time. There are conventions, of course -- writers workshop saws like "show, don't tell" and "kill your adverbs -- find stronger verbs" for instance.

In practice, there is considerable lee-way; readers read for the story, and not the mechanics. For instance, many Postmodern novels break the "Third Wall," and announce that there is a narrator telling a story -- Slaughterhouse Five comes to mind. This is a writer's workshop taboo. Yet, Vonnegut's wonderful character, the hapless Billy Pilgrim, and creative treatment of the themes of the pointlessness of war keeps me rereading the story every few years.

By the way, Vonnegut enchants, makes me laugh and covers an immense theme in 288 pages. That's writing.

But there are, of course, trends in an publishing. At present, most Fantasy -- from Urban to High Fantasy -- suffers from the "Multi-Tome Epic Arc" plague.

Fantasy author Charles de Lint's book review column in the July 2013 edition of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction addressed this trend, and solidified my thoughts on epics, which has bothered me for many years. He maintains, and I concur, that focusing on marketing the Series instead of creatively writing an excellent book is hurting the Fantasy genre. 

Genre fiction, even in its pulpiest days, was never like this. De Lint mentions the Edgar Rice Boroughs' John Carter books as examples -- stand-alone books filled with brilliant characters with quirky action. Rice Boroughs draws readers into his world, introducing them to setting and characters in the course of storytelling. Once a reader completes one of his books, Rice Boroughs offers an invitation. If you like Mars and John Carter and wanted more, you could buy another book. If you didn't, at least you read a rousing good yarn that resolved.

If this is the high-road, contemporary authors frequently take the low-road. They withhold the "ending" by finishing a novel on a cliff-hanger. This engages the human bias for completion. Whether readers like a book or not, they desire completion. Which manipulates them into buying the next book in the series.

The high-road is an invitation to read more. The low-road manipulates people into buying a book. Both de Lint and I find the practice tawdry. It leads to predictable books with comfortable plots instead of forcing a writer to "dig deep," and produce something original. One need only compare a classic like Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea Cycle to Robert Jordan's interminable, albeit popular, Wheel of Time series to sense the difference.