Four Rules and Why I Break Them

I should be editing, I know. And I will. But…well, think of this as me getting my brain going. Besides, some stuff is bugging me.

1. I’m supposed to think controlling, masterful men are hot.

I thought we were past this. I really did. Then someone on my Twitter feed posted an article about sexy men in fiction, and the first one she brought up was Edward Cullen. She said all women want to be loved that completely. Not “teen girls who don’t know any better.” All women. All of us grown-up, self-confident, capable women supposedly want to be loved so much he locks us safely away and protects us from our dumb little selves.

Maybe I’m no expert on love, but I’m pretty sure that’s not it. Edward Cullen is not the perfect boyfriend; he’s a stalker well on his way to abusive boyfriend (if not there already) and there is not a damned thing sexy about that to a woman who knows she deserves better as all women should be told until they know. (Please note: I have not read the series, but I have read scenes from it, and it doesn’t matter what the rest of the books say unless it is revealed that his breaking into her home to watch her sleep and his disabling her car didn’t really happen. Is that information there? Then don’t tell me “but he loves her!” I repeat that’s not love.)

2. Only make your story science fiction if it needs to be SF to tell the story.

This is frequently-seen advice for genre writers. Because, really–why on earth would you write SF if you didn’t have to?

Uhh…because I like it?

Genre causes me a lot of trouble, as I talked about recently on the Turtleduck Press site. If we go by appearances, it’s easy to classify my books–this one has spaceships, so it’s SF. That one has a magic sword, so it’s fantasy. But if we go a little deeper…

Let’s just say I get this “rule” quoted at me a lot. To which I say…eh. Fuckit. (Question: do readers even know this rule? I’d love to hear your thoughts!)

Which brings me to another rule:

3. Writers shouldn’t swear; with the entire language to work with, they should be more creative than that.

I like swearing. I like the words, I like the way they sound, and I like the meaning they convey. A big part of writing is choosing the right word. Rafe slumped in a chair is a different kettle of fish than Rafe lounging in a chair, though the meanings are similar. I’m not going to go with an almost-right word because of societal taboos, sorry. (I do, however, tend to tone down my swearing here on my blog because I recognize it makes some people uncomfortable. If we were talking in my living room and I dropped an f-bomb and saw you flinch, I’d do the same.) (Unless you were really obnoxious and I wanted you to leave. But then I’d probably just sic my cat on you.)

Some people take it too far, of course. We’ve all heard the person whose entire vocabulary consists of f-bomb phrases. Talk about monotonous! Any writer who swears like that (and just about anyone else) probably should be smacked. On the other hand, when it’s the last thing you ever thought you’d hear from a character, it can be awesome as all Hades.

For a writer who swears creatively and LOTS, check out Chuck Wendig. (Note: you’ve been warned. I should also warn you that followers of the Wendig know better than to eat or drink while reading his site. He won’t buy you a new keyboard/monitor if you foul it.) As Chuck puts it:

Profanity is fun. Profanity is a circus of language where the clowns are all insane and the elephant just stepped on a trapeze artist and something somewhere is on fire.

I love that guy. *wipes away a happy tear*

4. You need a man, ZOMG!

I don’t get this one aimed at me much anymore, though I’m still sometimes asked when I’m going to get married again. To which I answer…meh. Been there. Done that. Got the ashes. (For reals. My husband’s ashes are in a box on the bookshelf.)

But like I said, I don’t get this as much as I did even five years ago. I guess the thinking is that I don’t have much chance of snagging a man anymore, so why throw it in my face? It doesn’t matter that the older I get the more interesting and capable and confident I am. Men don’t want such things. (Note: sarcasm. Also ties back to #1. Edward Cullen wouldn’t want those things!)

No, this rule bothers me for others. My 12yo recently fretted she’ll “never” have a boyfriend. Four guys have asked her out in the last six months, but mom (that’d be me) won’t let her go on dates, and definitely is not allowing her to go exclusive yet. So she’s worried–at twelve!–that she’ll miss her only chance at true happiness. Which maybe comes of her grandmother (my mother-in-law, yay) asking her at five if she had a boyfriend yet–and being far from the only one asking her such things her entire life.

It’s a compliment, you know. “You’re so pretty! Do you have a boyfriend yet?”

Fair warning: Say this to my daughter and I will mock your words to your face.

“You mean, has she secured her future while she still has the only thing that interests boys?”

“Oh! Honey, she’s right! Get a boyfriend and you won’t have to worry about all that silly education stuff!”

“Boyfriend! Alas, no, she has not yet acquired that magical talisman of All Happiness! I fear she never will, if she hasn’t managed it in twelve years!”

Yeah, maybe it is over-reacting. But take a look around–this stuff is force-fed her everywhere she looks. We moms have to take drastic measures.

So, there we are. Rules I Break, or Things That Make Me Rant, whatever. Future installments will happen, I’m sure.

What rules do you break with glee and abandon?