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kyouka-supremacy · 4 months

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Again the sickness speaking but here's something that has been going through my mind since forever:

I feel like a good way to mitigate a lot of discontent with the doa arc ending and in general the whole Dazai-being-flawless issue bsd has going on is by comparing bsd to Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. Please bear with me for two minutes.

When Sherlock Holmes was being published, people were intrigued and enamoured by Holmes' brilliant and charming, crimes-solving figure. People read the stories for the pure joy of being left gaping at his superhuman wits again and again; they didn't want to see him fail, they wanted to be shocked and amazed by his genius. When Holmes died and then came back, nobody lamented it being unrealistic, because realism was not what people were reading the books for! They were reading to be impressed, to cheer for the hero and then take satisfaction in seeing him turn out victorious. That's the author-reader deal that was made there: to impress and to enjoy being impressed.

As of recently I feel like we've been asking from bsd something it never promised us in the first place. Maybe it's just not that kind of series! Maybe it's more about surprising the reader with how the hero is going to make it and less about highlighting his flaws and insecurities. And like, that's okay! That's why Dazai getting away with it isn't it him getting away with it “again”, it's just how bsd is; in a way, it's what makes bsd bsd.

I think it really clicked with me like it never did before when I watched the last episode of season 5; because the arc ending felt so shocking and unpredictable, very deus-ex-machina trope, a little underwhelming in its lowering the stakes that were there the whole time, and yet so extremely on brand with bsd, I didn't even have it in me to be disappointed. It was so similar to the Guild's arc ending and even more to the Cannibalism arc ending, and maybe it really is just a pattern, maybe it really is what bsd aspires to be, and that's okay too.

Also, I can't stretch this enough: if it's not your cup of tea, that's fine. I can't say it's mine either. But I feel like criticizing bsd now for how it's always been falls quite short, because it really feels like demanding from it what it never promised to deliver in the first place. That's just as far as my current perception of the series goes, though, so feel free to disagree with me on this.

#Btw this is not me comparing Holmes character with Dazai character.#Holmes character is something Dazai character will never be (respectful of women)#The also real difference between Holmes and Dazai is that one author loathes the character with everything that's in them–#and the other author loves the character with everything that's in them #I've also briefly mentioned before that Atsushi is a very Watson-like figure in the way it uses as someone deeply human‚#sympathetic to the reader and that the reader can see themselves in‚#plot device so that Holmes has someone he can explain his deduction to and with his awe further underlines and uplifts Holmes' genius #Also sassy #osamu dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd s5 #Wow and here's me putting my season 5 thoughts down after three months. Took a raging fever for me to do so #To be fair when the episode dropped everyone was a bit crazy over the ending for one reason or the other #So back then I felt like waiting things to chill out first #mine #I often find superfluous to end posts with “feel free to disagree with me on this” because it's so obvious and expected it goes unsaid #But I suppose sometimes it bears repeating...

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ironjohnredcognition · 3 years

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The Directing mind

h/t @afx626

In all of these occasions, you are summoning impressions in your mind and then reacting to them as though they were real.

The Stoics taught of the ton hegemonikon ("directing mind") as an entity unto itself. Aurelius established it as being the uppermost authority within the mind. The important thing about this is that the mind contains the directing mind, and other things, which could be called lower faculties — such as impressions.

He did this often. If something in your mind that is not your directing mind should be in discomfort, he said, that is its concern. (Paraphrasing.)

One of the main "powers" granted by Stoicism is that you begin to realize that your mind is not one monolithic thing, but many components that interact. (Prescient of them. There isn't one modern neurologist who would dispute this.) Moreover, your Directing Mind is free to disagree with other parts: not merely to repress them and lie to itself about how the feeling doesn't exist, but to acknowledge that it is there, and incorrect.

The sense of nervousness you speak of isn't "you." It isn't correct just because you feel it. The only reason you take it for granted is that you never learned how to do otherwise.

Imagine this: You feel nervous, and instead of recoiling and getting your heart rate up, you merely interpret it as a signal. You don't let your thoughts run away; if dire predictions arise in your mind, you quiet them down so that they don't distract you. Now you can think a little more clearly.

It's hard at first, so you start with something easy. It's easier to dismiss your anger over the supermarket not having your favorite Lunchable than it is heavier matters, so you practice on little things like that. And when you check out, if you stumble with your words and feel silly at the cash register, you remind yourself on the way to the car that your stumbling has already been forgotten by the cashier, who has already heard fifty people misspeak some word today, and will hear the same thing many more times before the sun is down. The sense that other people are intensely interested in your every tiny mistake is, I'm happy to report, largely misguided, and not worthy of the trust you invest in it.

Over time, you try this technique — this deliberate, conscious granting or withholding of assent (agreement) to your impressions — and you get better and better at it for larger and larger troubles. You find that things that troubled you to no end don't seem so severe as they did before.

Ultimately, an impression (like "the cashier thinks I'm a dork") is a tool to be used, not an oppressive phantom to run and hide from — and certainly not to be mistaken for a guaranteed fact about reality. If you think the cashier thinks you're a dork, so what? (Even if it is true!) Does it change how you use the credit card machine or how you push your cart through the doors?

"You are just an impression. You have given me (the Directing Mind) information. That is your purpose, and that purpose is now complete. What I do with that information is not your concern, but mine. Isn't that why you gave it to me in the first place?"

Essentially, you are de-automating processes that have been running automatically, so that you can retrain them with better information and strategies.

There is no thought in your mind that doesn't owe you an explanation for why you should think it instead of some other thought. Remember that.

A tenet of Stoicism is that most of what we think and do is unnecessary.

An impression says, "I wish I had these capabilities I had before!" Then you dwell because for some fucked up reason our minds are set up to allow us to think that dwelling is a subset of "doing something useful," which it isn't.

You have already had the thought that you wish you had your former capabilities. This thought was worth having at most one time. Every time you re-think it, you tell yourself what you already know, without surfacing any new useful information.

Maybe you can do something about this, and maybe you can't. I suppose the place to start would be to try to recognize when it's happening, and see if you can't prevail upon yourself to replace that thought with another.

When an ancient philosopher — I forget who, might have been Diogenes — was getting old, he fell; and on this, he chastised the ground: "Don't be so greedy! You'll have me soon enough!" He didn't fight it, so it didn't seem to make him nervous.

It's hard for me to give more specific advice because I don't know what you have to work with, and my best advice is to talk to someone who knows what the hell they are talking about, like a psychologist who specializes in TBI.

If you can't afford that, I — a person who does not know what the hell he's talking about — would suggest observing these things, learning how to predict their arrival, and allowing some part of yourself to say, for example, "Ah, Mr. Hyde is nearly here again. I should preemptively go sit somewhere quiet until he has left me, and then I can go about the rest of my day." Or, "I can't remember... Probably won't be able to for a few hours... I'll write it down and come back to it later."

I would not tell myself that I have accepted it. I would be more interested in observing evidence that suggests to what extent I have perhaps accepted it. It isn't a light switch. Acceptance comes in gradations.

You really, really ought to know a few things about the architecture of your brain. That can clarify a lot.

Paul Ekman (Emotional Awareness), Gerald Edelman (Wider Than The Sky: The Phenomenal Gift of Consciousness), and many and others have written a lot on this subject. I can't type the entire contents of those books into this post, but I can give you a somewhat crude synopsis.

A few inches behind each eye is a brain structure called an amygdala. This is often cited as the "fear center" but that's like naming a gallon after a single drop. Amygdalas generate emotions, but they also play a part in facial recognition, recall of the social relationships between people, and many other processes. The amygdalas also have the distinction of terminating the olfactory nerves directly, and are naturally involved in smell.

They are not considered to be a part of the conscious mind, but they wield massive influence over it. One of their main activities is to write information directly to the prefrontal cortex. They have a generous amount of bandwidth and access with which to do this. (They have to because part of their job is to save your life during emergencies.) The primary route into the PFC (and functionally the conscious mind) is the amygdalofugal pathway.

The amygdalas are also privileged to early access to sensory data. They can "see" and "hear" things a fraction of a second before your conscious mind becomes aware of them. When you recognize a relative the very instant you see them, without any delay whatsoever, you have your amygdalas to thank. They are also capable of seizing control of your PFC and issuing mandatory commands. If you've ever found yourself dodging (or directing your car) around an extreme and sudden hazard, with unusual agility and clarity, and almost feel you're not the one doing it... yep, that's your amygdalas.

The amygdalas can write an impression directly into your conscious mind. It will arrive seemingly out of nowhere, and usually without context. Their advantage is that they're optimized for extremely fast reaction, and because they have early access to sensory data, they can get the drop on your conscious mind.

But...

Your conscious mind can also form its own impressions. It's a fraction of a second behind the amygdalas, but it does have one advantage. When you have a behavior you want to modify, you can train yourself to "smell it coming." There is always some series of triggering events, and these can be consciously detected and intercepted. If your PFC steps in before the amygdalas take control, it has a chance to assert itself. With adequate practice, it can get quite good at this.

Now you have a very rough, basic framework for understanding the fundamentals of where impressions come from, and how they can be managed — what it means to manage them, "behind the curtains." What the wetware is actually doing.

One of the corruptions of the Directing Mind mentioned by Marcus Aurelius is "this thought would be superfluous."

You can't dismiss certain unpleasant impulses, like anxiety. They nag at you. Good! That's supposed to happen! What's missing is this:

Interpret the unpleasant impulse as a signal (and nothing more!) that something is not quite adequate.

Figure out how to remove the impulse's reason for firing in the first place.

Once the impulse has fired, you can acknowledge it and do something about it. "You want me to do something? Fine, I am scheduling two hours tonight to work on this." The part of your unconscious mind the impulse came from wants it to be addressed, just like an impulse indicating thirst comes from a lower faculty that will be watching to see whether you appear to be moving toward water, and will flog you more and more aggressively if you do not.

That which originated the impulse is looking for either immediate action or reliable future action. That action must be predicted as having an optimal chance of success. If these conditions are not met, the impulse will not leave you alone — unless you have trained yourself to dissociate from it, which is really not a good idea. The impulse is a tool to be used; or if not useful, refined or repudiated. It is not something to be hidden from.

This is one of the pitfalls of Stoicism. "What is outside my mind is nothing to it" doesn't mean you ignore your problems. It just means you don't let them get on top of you, or forget the best use of your mind, or have an unrealistic expectation of what life will give you. There are concepts of "preferred indifferents" and "unpreferred indifferents." If the outside world was completely meaningless, there wouldn't be two kinds of indifferents.

It may be that you interpret the impulse as spurious. "I already set aside time for this. Why are you bothering me again?" Or, "The impression behind this impulse is based on a previous understanding of my relation to the world, but I have internalized a better one now... so what am I supposed to do with it? You must have come to me purely out of habit." Or, "I already failed at this thing, and it's obvious that I should try that thing instead. Why are you motivating me to work on an obsolete problem? What is the useful output?"

There is no thought in your head which is immune to interrogation. All thoughts must be able to answer: "Why are you useful? Why are you the best thought for me to think right now?" "Ah, but I feel anxious!" "So what? I'm already doing all I can."

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radicalrevisions · 7 years

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If you try and figure out the rules about creative writing, you’re going to find that established authors and editors often disagree about nuances of the craft. There are, of course, some hard-and-fast rules about punctuation and grammar, but so many rules vary from genre to genre, generation to generation, audience to audience. Sometimes there are rules that boil down, simply, to consistency.

So you might even say that you have your own set of writing rules. Each and every author’s rules are slightly unique. That unique set of “rules” is part of what makes up your author’s voice.

So when are the appropriate times to break those rules, your own rules? They happen, don’t they? In my last post, I gave a list of filler words and overused words that you can consider cutting out of your writing to help sharpen it. But everything--even mediocre vocabulary, poor grammar, and repetitive structure--has a place in writing.

Breaking Your Mold to Write Character Voice

Jordan is an author (hypothetically). She has been writing for years, gotten an English degree, read a zillion books, and written several novel drafts of her own. Over her years of writing, she has finally come into her own voice. When she writes, she no longer feels derivative or inexperienced. It’s freeing and wonderful!

But there’s one thing that Jordan hasn’t figured out yet...and that’s character voice. Her authorial voice, while wonderful and unique, seeps into the voice of all of her characters. The result is that all of her characters, whether speaking or narrating, sound exactly the same: they sound like her.

Part of what makes a multi-POV novel come to life is variation in character voice. Part of what makes an author’s portfolio stand out is the vast scope of voices their characters use across their works. Part of what sets apart side characters as characters instead of tools for the protagonist or plot devices for the narrative is a unique and compelling voice.

So how does one accomplish such a thing?

Well, there are many ways. But today I’m focusing on language and syntax, particularly in the rule-breaking department.

The first exercise you can do is take a piece of dialogue, preferably just a back and forth between two characters, and write it one way, then switch roles. Have the characters say basically the same thing, but in their own voices.

Author Voice Conversation

R: Oh. You’re worried about me E: I am no such thing. Worrying about you sneaking into enemy territory is like...worrying about a fish drowning in the ocean. R: You sure seem dead set on stopping me from going. E: We need to come up with a plan. It would be foolish to just waltz into their territory with no idea what we’re doing. R: You’re really quite cute when you’re worried. E: You’d like me to be worried, wouldn’t you? Just go. I don’t know what I’m freaking out about, anyway. R: Me either. Bye. E: Bye, idiot. Don’t get caught. R: *sigh* Is that really what you expect of me?

There’s nothing wrong with this conversation at all. But I’m just writing as if I, personally, was speaking. I know what the personality of these characters are, but that isn’t necessarily enough. I’m going to inject a little bit of their own tics, their own backgrounds, into their speech.

Character Voice Conversations

R: Oh. You’re worried about me, aren’t you? E: Really? Please. I don’t worry about anyone. R: But you don’t want me to go. E: I just...think that we need to come up with a plan first. R: You’re really kinda cute when you’re worried. E: I’m NOT—Grah! Fine! Go, then. I don’t know why I’m trying to help you, anyway. R: Neither do I. I sure as hell didn’t ask for it. E: See ya, then. Try not to get blood on my shirt. R: Go drown in the tears of your unborn children, Tiger.

And now, roles switched:

E: Heh. You’re...worried. R: Fuck off. I don’t have energy to waste worrying about you. E: You want me to stay. Safe. R: I mean...having a plan would be a good idea, but what in hell do I know? The fuck are you doing? E: You’ve got some worry on your face. R: Don’t touch me. Don’t even talk to me. I’m sorry I mentioned anything about a plan. E: So am I. I’ll bring you skin of an atosh as a trophy. R: Bye, Tiger. If you’re not back in one day, I’ll assume you died. E: Don’t wait that long. I’d love to come back and find peace and quiet waiting for me instead of you.

What sort of things influence the diction of your characters? In example 1, R says, “You’re really quite cute when you’re worried,” whereas in example 2, she says “kinda,” instead. In both of the latter examples, R is more prone to using “fuck” and “hell.”

In one of my novels, I have two narrators: K and B. K is well-read, well-spoken and a little snobbish. B isn’t an idiot, but he dropped out of school in (what amounts to) the fifth grade. He’s spent a large portion of his life outside of society and largely lived his life how he wanted. So when they say basically the same thing, K might say,

“I’ve got this covered. Thank you, but, honestly, it isn’t anything to worry about.”

Where B would say,

“I’ve got this. For real. Thanks.”

In general, as I write their dialogue, B uses more contractions, shorter sentences, and doesn’t use many words beyond the 1000 most commonly used. He makes grammatical mistakes (Saying “me” when he should say “I”) He has more verbal tics, “Um...” “Er--” “Well, it’s just that...” etc. K speaks with much more flowery language and tends to elaborate beyond what is necessary. This means unneeded adverbs, “moment,” “rather/quite/somewhat,” superfluous reflexive pronouns, etc. I have one character who tends to speak in run-on sentences whenever she uses the word “because.” I have one character who compulsively addresses the people he’s speaking to, so much so that other characters make fun of him for it.

These are all things that, in general, I avoid doing. But using them purposefully helps to set character voices apart.

Narrator Voice

To some extent, narrator voice can use these same tactics. If you’re using multi-pov, especially, these kinds of nuances will help your reader really feel like they’re reading the words of multiple characters, rather than just being told they are. If you’re writing an intimate third-person or first person, these same principles can help bring your narrative voice to life, just like the words written in quotes.

Think about these two opening lines and how the voice of the narrator gives you two very different impressions about the same event:

The sun was rising. Though the scent of the overnight dew hung heavy over our tent, the sleeping bag hugged us close together. She smelled warm, and even the scent of our intermingled sweat was pleasant in the early morning. I wondered briefly if the residual alcohol was softening reality, but ultimately it didn’t matter. I was in love.

The sun was coming up. The air was heavy, humid in the muggy morning. Our sleeping bag was wrapped tight around us, the moisture from our breaths clinging around our heads. Sticky and warm, she still smelled like sex. It was probably an objectively terrible smell, but the memories made it nice. I blinked, wondering if that last glass of wine was still hanging over me, but I don’t guess it mattered. I fucking loved this girl.

So think about it! There are tons of factors that could go into how your characters speaks...and thus, what “rules” you break in their dialogue.

How educated or well-read is your character?

What influence does their culture have on their diction?

How wordy do they tend to be?

If they use as few words as possible, maybe mostly grunts, what is the motivation behind that?

How much attention do they like to bring to themselves?

How self-conscious are they about their voice? Their speech patterns? The effect their words have on others?

How long does it take them to get to the meat of what they’re saying?

How much do they make others laugh?

How optimistic or pessimistic are they?

How much do they try to avoid talking about themselves or their emotions?

At what point do they end a conversation they don’t like?

How long does it take them to get angry in a disagreement?

How does anger alter their speech?

How does overwhelming sadness alter their speech?

How does immense joy alter their speech?

What words do they use with noticeable frequency?

Do they speak differently in intimate settings than in public?

Don’t be afraid to use any and every word to give your characters their own voices. As I always say, to anyone in basically any situation: I don’t mind if you break any rule at all...as long as you broke it with deliberated intent.

Happy revising!

#amwriting #writing #revision #revising #editing #proofreading #character #writing voice #grammar #writing rules #help for writers #writing help #writing advice #writing things

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