Disappointment is magic

And the plot of every good book

My parents live on a lake in northern Minnesota. A few years ago, a couple by the name of Palahnuik bought a vacant house nearby that my mom used to refer to as the Witness Protection House because of the occupant’s reclusively and abrupt departure. We walked by it daily for a while, hoping to see signs of criminal activity. To our disappointment, we only noticed overgrowth and deer. Now that I’ve given up on the mob, I’ve been waiting to run into Chuck Palahnuik, not that I’d know him if I did. He could have been that asshole who made me back down the entire one-lane road last year. If so, damn you, Chuck Palahnuik. But anyway I do follow him on Substack and I just read a short post of his about gift giving last week. He wrote:

An exchange that consists of an ask and a giving, Hyde defines that as transactional. There’s no magic in a transaction. There is no magic in getting what you ask for.

So basically, fuck Christmas lists, wedding registries, etc. This is a familiar concept for me. While my parents didn't raise me with religion, they did raise me with the magic of not giving from lists. From the time we were little, my brother and I knew that lists were cheating, there’s no magic, don’t do it. My dad sometimes buys my mom something she has asked for. Does she think less of him for it? Yes.

Even though it’s destined to be ignored, everyone is required to make a list. Adults don’t put in much effort because there’s no point. Still, my parents complain when we don’t. “Colin hasn’t told us what he wants this year,” they’ll say, as if his request for a blender will stop them from buying a moose-shaped lamp that his wife will make him put in the basement. We’ve all given Colin a weird lamp. I bought him two. My grandmother sent him a broken one with a note that said, “I think you’ll be able fix this.” That’s the same grandmother who gave me Dollar Store lingerie (I still wear it) and a bag of dry pinto beans once (I ate them). The children, though, run like lambs to the slaughter to make their lists. I fully support this because: a) it’s good writing practice, and b) a list of wants and desires is a time capsule, evidence of who they were in December of any given year. I love coming across an old Christmas list.

I don’t have a copy of it anymore, but I remember the year my daughter just asked Santa not to bring her dead fish. This was following the year she woke up to a bowl full of dead goldfish on Christmas morning. Oops. Here’s another cute example.

Here’s a good example from the internet because I don’t know where I saved any of the adorable lists that I think I might have saved. Oh well. Maybe I’ll print some off the internet and put them in my kids’ scrapbooks later.

If someone gives you something that speaks to your soul, something that you didn’t even know you might need or want, that’s magic. It can’t come from a list. Even if you get something you really don’t want, there’s magic. My dad gave me this 3-D puzzle called “The Visible Head” when I was about eight. It had a million parts you had to paint and put together to construct an accurate model of the human head. You couldn’t have paid me to put that thing together. It became a family joke. That’s magic too.

Terrell gave me toe shoes a few years ago, definitely something I didn’t ask for. I wore them a couple of times, but come on, that’s not the lifestyle for me. He has since threatened to find “someone who will appreciate them” like this is some kind of reverse Cinderella story. Apparently, a few nurses have offered to take “the shoes” of his hands. (Nurses, if any of you are reading, hands off my man, even if he is wandering around the hospital trying to regift some weird shoes he bought me.) But really, is Terrell going to leave me for a woman who promises to wear toe shoes? I don’t think so. Does he feel unappreciated on a deeper level? I think it’s just about the shoes. Either way, “the toe shoes” are a part of our history now.

Evidence that I have worn those stupid shoes at least once. I brought them all the way to Hawaii. Love you, honey!

Now for the writing advice. Disappoint your characters.

Not getting what you want is basically the plot of every book. The main character starts out the story with a want (if they don’t, give them one). They try really hard to get the thing. If it’s a romance, love is the obstacle. If it’s a mystery, finding the killer is the obstacle to the character want. If it’s literary fiction, buy the Cliff Notes. In the end, you can’t give the character what they want because they need to grow and change and deal with reality. That’s a good arc for a character and a functional human worth knowing.

In romance, characters show they’re ready for love when they give up whatever stupid thing they wanted in the beginning of the book. The most satisfying grand gestures aren’t Megatron declarations of love. Instead, they’re when a character gives up whatever they wanted at the beginning of the book for love of the other character. All of the magic comes from not giving your character what they want.

One note though: sacrifice as a grand gesture can be problematic if it’s used to reinforce a dominant narrative that isn’t working for a class of people. For instance, in Hallmark books and movies the heroine usually gives up her career in the big city for the love of the hero. It works from a narrative perspective and it resonates because it’s nostalgic, a return to time we forget came with a daily dose of valium.

Anyway, disappoint your characters, but try not to be an ignorant ass and carelessly take away rights they’ve just earned in a sugar-coated return to the status quo, unless you’re writing someone’s tragic story that will win an Oscar. Or Hallmark. If you want my take on Hallmark go buy Undead and Unwed.

In summary, there’s no magic in getting what you ask for, in life or in books. That’s what I’m telling myself this week because, lemme tell you, it’s bleak out here in the publishing world. Manifest with caution. But don’t forget that there’s plenty of magic to be had in disappointment. (I hope.)

What I’ve been reading: I’m editing stories for an anthology this weekend. More news on that soon!

What I’m watching: TV for Dogs, which is essentially slow motion videos of dogs digging in the sand. Terrell turned it off because he was put off by the amount of privilege those Dog TV stars had frolicking at resorts. Our dogs, on the other hand, are suffering.

Dog TV will put you right to sleep. I recommend it.

Until next time,

Sam