On writing: misery

The thing about misery is, like any highly charged emotion, you have to worry about desensitization with repeated use. You get diminishing returns after a while, because the reader's mind inures them from compounding distress by getting them to stop investing so much emotional energy into the character. It's why it helps to re-up on moments of lightness between shots of darkness, it breaks up the monotony of pain and helps reset their tolerance to a degree.
I was thinking about this earlier: unrelenting misery is like unrelenting action, or even unrelenting humour. There's only so many times the reader or viewer can get produce the expected emotional response. If the writer keeps raising the stakes, you quickly reach the point where the audience doesn't have anything more to give. You need to pause, let them catch their breath, process what they've experienced, and then start over.
Of course, if the misery hammer is the only tool in your bag, you're going to see every opportunity as a nail.
A skilled writer can make their audience feel engaged with tiny things. Described skilfully, a protagonist's worry about getting back to their parked car in time before the meter expires can be an adventure. Or perhaps the thrill of seeing an attractive stranger every day on your commute.

Douglas Adams created a whale just to kill it off, in response to all the action shows and movies where people got blasted away and nobody seemed to care. The whale only had a few minutes of airtime, and the bowl of petunias only got one line ("Oh no, not again."), but people cared.

I wonder whether part of the advice to add misery has to do with modern audiences. I read recently that movies and shows constantly recap what's happened because viewers aren't paying attention, or don't remember. So perhaps heaping on the misery is a response to that: the assumption is that the audience is checking out emotionally at regular intervals, so they have to be reminded that the hero/ine is suffering. If a single issue is dragged out over a whole episode, let alone a whole season, viewers get frustrated because every time they look up from their phones it's still the same problem, and they don't understand why it hasn't been resolved yet.
 
It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but as far as I can tell the misery formula works. Many great long novels I've read feature characters who are miserable much of the time, experiencing great setbacks. And they seem to be well received. Think of the great reception recently for the movie The Odyssey. It could be subtitled 10 years of misery.

The lower the low during the story, the higher and more satisfying the high at the end. Not always. There are great stories where the characters don't get what they want at the end.

None of this has much to do with my stories, because my stories are usually fairly short, and to keep them erotic and enjoyable I don't want the characters to be too miserable.
 
The explanation is that the greater the challenge, the more satisfying the outcome will be. A person's true nature isn't revealed until they're at absolute rock bottom. Keep the reader's on the edge of their seat, wondering how their hero can possibly extricate themselves as the world collapses around them.

I would say there are multiple arguments for making your characters miserable and putting them through the wringer:
  1. Sorrows for your characters creates pity and sympathy in your readers; it makes them care about them and their story.
  2. Stories thrive on tension and stakes: there should be a risk of serious consequences and a real sense of uncertainty about whether the characters will prevail. Bad things happening demonstrate genuine danger.
  3. Catharsis: By depicting extreme situations, audiences experience powerful emotions (fear, sorrow, horror) and emerge cleansed and refreshed.
  4. As you say, a greater challenge makes for a more impressive and satisfying success.
But if you look at these arguments from a slightly different angle, they also provide reasons not to overdo it:
  1. Misfortune creates sympathy up to a point, but if your characters get too miserable and sad-sacky, or too much the suffering saint, that sympathy ceases. Additionally, we are also inclined to admire and like people who are exceptional in some positive way, which is hard to combine with being a complete loser.
  2. Tension relies on uncertainty, and guaranteed failure is as incompatible with that as guaranteed victory. If readers learn that everything will always go wrong and there is never any hope of success along the way, tension evaporates.
  3. A generalized form of this idea of catharsis is that you want to take readers along on an emotional roller coaster, and this requires both ups and downs: with constant bleakness you don't get the effect of the plunge. That's the theory of comedic relief, too. Even in ancient Greek theater they would perform a comedy or satyr play along with a tragedy.
  4. Why should all satisfaction be withheld until the end? Giving your characters small victories along the way keeps readers motivated to stick with it.
I think these are pretty widespread ideas, so I wonder what writing books you've read that recommend simply adding misery upon misery. Is it possible that you're reading them somewhat selectively?
 
I think these are pretty widespread ideas, so I wonder what writing books you've read that recommend simply adding misery upon misery. Is it possible that you're reading them somewhat selectively?
I don't remember the titles, because they were audiobooks I was listening to a few years ago. The authors seemed to be fairly well established in the fiction writing/publishing/teaching world.

But I wasn't reading (or listening) selectively. It's hard to misunderstand when someone says "pile on the misery, and when you think your character is really up against it, add more."
 
I wonder whether part of the advice to add misery has to do with modern audiences. I read recently that movies and shows constantly recap what's happened because viewers aren't paying attention, or don't remember.
I feel that it is at best an excuse for poor storytelling.

There's only so many times the reader or viewer can get produce the expected emotional response.
If the intent is to bring the reader to a new low, then sure, but I can see the potential for the unrelenting nature being part of it. The non-stop misery could inspire parallel emotions between the reader and the character(s) so that both can at some point go, oh this is still going, etc. etc. just that the reader has a choice to exit should they so choose. Even then, I could see a work or piece be able to pull off plunges within plunges, perpetuating the descent into greater despair.

One example I can think of, that was done fairly poorly in my opinion, was Miles O'Brien in Star Trek. The writers seemed like they just wanted to fuck him and not really address consequences and pretend everything was ok. There are plenty of examples of this throughout various series but that one jumps to mind.

I do agree that having the breaks in between and the small victories help things along. They accentuate and can strengthen, and enhance, and it makes a lot of sense. I recall A Brave New World.

However, I still think it is possible to accentuate various ridges and features from a seemingly flat surface (the aforementioned plunges within the plunge).

No examples come to mind where this was successfully pulled off. Maybe Mystic River? I can't quite recall everything in that novel but I don't recall much in terms of little victories. I could be forgetting quite a bit there.

So all that to say, I can enjoy reading misery, even unyieldingly so, and can see at least the potential for good execution.

Writing wise, I think I tend to corrupt and warp the little victories when I go down this particular road. In some ways that is worse.

I just don't like to shut the door on any one particular thing as it could be used as a tool of expression, even if it isn't oft used or even enjoyed.
 
But I wasn't reading (or listening) selectively. It's hard to misunderstand when someone says "pile on the misery, and when you think your character is really up against it, add more."

I'm not sure I agree. Even if we assume that you remember the phrasing correctly, there are multiple ways to take that advice depending on the context, and it certainly does not necessarily mean that the story should be all misery.

For example, if we were to take The Lord of the Rings as an example, I would argue that it follows that advice to the letter. As Frodo and Sam approach Mordor, it gradually piles on the misery. Towards the end they are crawling through Tolkien's conception of hell on Earth, they are near death, and Sam has to carry Frodo because he cannot walk further. At one point it seems like Frodo has actually died, and later on they both accept that they cannot hope to survive their journey. Then, when they finally reach their destination, Frodo is overcome by the corruption of the ring and refuses to carry out their mission. And when all seems lost there's yet another setback as they're finally attacked by Gollum. It's misery turned up to 11!

And yet, I don't think most people would argue that TLOTR is torture porn or devoid of small victories, joys and hope along the way. The misery is balanced by other elements, including very palpable progress towards their goal.

Of course, many stories won't deal with the extreme and very literal miseries featured in TLOTR, but the mindset of looking for ways to make things difficult and unpleasant for the main characters can still broadly apply.
 
Even if we assume that you remember the phrasing correctly
Why "even if"? This whole topic of the thread is based on me describing advice I came across multiple times. You might disagree with my thoughts, but how about you don't presume miscomprehension on my part simply because it's not something you've encountered?
 
For example, if we were to take The Lord of the Rings as an example, I would argue that it follows that advice to the letter. As Frodo and Sam approach Mordor, it gradually piles on the misery. Towards the end they are crawling through Tolkien's conception of hell on Earth, they are near death, and Sam has to carry Frodo because he cannot walk further. At one point it seems like Frodo has actually died, and later on they both accept that they cannot hope to survive their journey. Then, when they finally reach their destination, Frodo is overcome by the corruption of the ring and refuses to carry out their mission. And when all seems lost there's yet another setback as they're finally attacked by Gollum. It's misery turned up to 11!
The example is quite apt. However, while I felt enervated by the overall end of the stories, this part of the plot not only left Frodo a broken man (so much so that he had to travel west at the end, as one of the only non-elves) but killed off the only other character as damaged by the ring as he was. It was a mercy for Gollum. I always felt that the destruction of the ring turned into a cop-out, rather than a glorious moment. The only character who you end up appreciating more, as a result, is Sam.
 
For example, if we were to take The Lord of the Rings as an example, I would argue that it follows that advice to the letter. (...)
Yes, but none of it comes out of the left field. It is all anticipated, foreshadowed, and telegraphed from a mile away; the entire character of Gollum is a walking, talking, slithering demonstration of the corrupting power of the Ring, and it follows the main characters everywhere.

Not to mention that this whole gauntlet of hellish misery is a setup for a subtle parable about God and Providence. Tolkien had a reason for it that went beyond torturing the characters just because.
 
You might disagree with my thoughts, but how about you don't presume miscomprehension on my part simply because it's not something you've encountered?

You presented the advice as a direct quote that could not be misunderstood, but given that you cannot remember the books you got it from I assume that it is actually a paraphrase or summary in your own words. And then I note that even as you give it, there are multiple interpretations.

And if there are two ways to interpret a statement and one is patently absurd and the other is reasonable, and it comes from a established and respected source, I am strongly inclined to believe that the more reasonable interpretation is the correct one. Especially when I've come across similar statements from respected sources that do bear out the more reasonable interpretation.

As you point out, if you take it to mean that a writer should keep rewriting their story to add more and more misery, and never stop doing that, the advice is not merely nonsensical, but actually impossible to follow in writing a story: you would never be done.

Personally, I don't buy this. For a start, there's no limit to how much misery a writer can invent for their character. If nothing else, give them a hole in their shoe so that they're walking around with one damp sock. So the point where the shitpile stops is always artificial. Whether it's with one unfortunate setback or a hundred, it's never exhaustive.

Therefore, this cannot be what the advice is meant to convey. It's possible that it is badly written so that it invites that interpretation; without a specific source that must remain speculation.
 
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Yes, but none of it comes out of the left field.

No, but that doesn't really seem relevant to the discussion at hand.

The point of bringing up TLOTR was to give an example of how following the literal advice does not require an unrelentingly bleak tone.
 
There definitely are stories that royally suck because there is no discomfort, and including some of that instead of shying away from it would make the story better.

I feel like this is usually a case of the author not daring to keep it when it crops up, or, not daring to write it when it's the natural consequence of the plot.

It's very Mary Sue.

I'm not advocating for an unrelenting, superlative level of unmitigated misery, I'm just saying that to take the diametrically opposite tack is to suggest that no story should ever have any discomfort at all. And then where would literature be? We would have all stopped reading fiction at age 6.
 
There definitely are stories that royally suck because there is no discomfort, and including some of that instead of shying away from it would make the story better.
My biggest issue with happy stories isn't that they're happy. If a happy story has no place where there is misery, great, fine and dandy. But if a happy story has a point that should be invoking a negative response, and it's totally glossed over to keep the jolly vibe, it becomes incredibly hollow and basically a rejection of reality. Something horrible happens to somebody, and it's water off a duck's back narratively. The characters no longer feel real if they aren't reacting to things that should be invoking a sense of misery. Someone's in a car crash as part of a rom-com, and it's pretty serious, but everyone is light and perky and chipper about it. That's great, it can even be true on the surface, but that's a deeply unsettling event for 99% of people and to just brush it off as "haha, oopsie," or some variant thereof, it isn't true to human nature, so why should I believe anything about these characters, or care about your meat vehicles?
 
I was thinking about this earlier: unrelenting misery is like unrelenting action, or even unrelenting humour. There's only so many times the reader or viewer can get produce the expected emotional response. If the writer keeps raising the stakes, you quickly reach the point where the audience doesn't have anything more to give. You need to pause, let them catch their breath, process what they've experienced, and then start over.
First thing that popped into my head upon reading this is the endorphin rush some people get from slot machines and the like. Little boosts every once in a while, spaced out by some formula that most of us wouldn't be able to consciously recreate (I would attribute the ability as a developed skill in a write, not a conscious effort) which keep us engrossed. Recovery periods (like losing at slots) interspersed with the rush (of misery) until we become addicted. We look for it outside of just stories we read - movies, television shows, the office gossip all become sources of things that went bad for somebody.

Get too little, and you lose interest, become distracted. Get too much and you burn out on it.

Again, just my initial thoughts. It was a long day at work, so apologies if it doesn't make sense.
 
The example is quite apt. However, while I felt enervated by the overall end of the stories, this part of the plot not only left Frodo a broken man (so much so that he had to travel west at the end, as one of the only non-elves) but killed off the only other character as damaged by the ring as he was. It was a mercy for Gollum. I always felt that the destruction of the ring turned into a cop-out, rather than a glorious moment. The only character who you end up appreciating more, as a result, is Sam.
Hm, I never saw it as a cop-out. To me, the point of that ending was that the good guys won out, not through mere stubbornness, but as a consequence of their past kindness to Gollum - something that Gandalf foreshadows early on. A pragmatist would have stabbed Gollum early on but Bilbo and Frodo are too soft-hearted to do it, and Tolkien's point is that soft-heartedness isn't the weakness it's often made out to be.
 
One example I can think of, that was done fairly poorly in my opinion, was Miles O'Brien in Star Trek. The writers seemed like they just wanted to fuck him and not really address consequences and pretend everything was ok. There are plenty of examples of this throughout various series but that one jumps to mind.
The writers actually had an iron clad rule for his episodes. A very simple rule even. "O'Brien must suffer" Which sucked, because I really would've liked to see at least a couple episodes where he didn't suffer. But then, he was my favorite character, so maybe they had a point.
 
The writers actually had an iron clad rule for his episodes. A very simple rule even. "O'Brien must suffer" Which sucked, because I really would've liked to see at least a couple episodes where he didn't suffer. But then, he was my favorite character, so maybe they had a point.
Well, there it is. :ROFLMAO:
I will amend my statement. I think for what DS9 was, to have it be water off a duck's back (as anthy so eloquently put it) in terms of the long haul, versus the episodic nature his traumas took on, is a little dissatisfying and not a good execution, despite how enjoyable the character is. Within those episodes, his reactions to these situations was very real, so long as those were the only things he had experienced and not the overarching doom.

As you say though, maybe they had a point haha.
 
I think he would've been happier if he'd just stayed in the damned whale.
Jonah. Jonah got swallowed by a whale. Job was the poor guy who had to exemplify undeserved suffering, discussed ad infinitum until most sensible readers are ready to throw the whole cast and crew of Job's story into the belly of Jonah's whale, because frankly it's enough to drive you bonkers.
 
Well, there it is. :ROFLMAO:
I will amend my statement. I think for what DS9 was, to have it be water off a duck's back (as anthy so eloquently put it) in terms of the long haul, versus the episodic nature his traumas took on, is a little dissatisfying and not a good execution, despite how enjoyable the character is. Within those episodes, his reactions to these situations was very real, so long as those were the only things he had experienced and not the overarching doom.

As you say though, maybe they had a point haha.
Also, we did get to see him happy in other people's episodes. That was usually in the various bars though, so he was probably trying to kill his brain cells and forget his trauma.
Jonah. Jonah got swallowed by a whale. Job was the poor guy who had to exemplify undeserved suffering, discussed ad infinitum until most sensible readers are ready to throw the whole cast and crew of Job's story into the belly of Jonah's whale, because frankly it's enough to drive you bonkers.
I'm aware. I still think he would've been happier in the whale. And then maybe he could've warned Jonah not to go back up there.
 
Job 2 is in the Apocrypha, which is why not everyone knows about it. Job in the belly of the whale, Job having his finger bitten off at the Crack of Doom, Job killing his father and marrying his mother . . . basically, the Church Fathers couldn't stand how depressing it was. Or the lack of narrative coherence. So into Apocrypha it went.
 
Hm, I never saw it as a cop-out. To me, the point of that ending was that the good guys won out, not through mere stubbornness, but as a consequence of their past kindness to Gollum - something that Gandalf foreshadows early on. A pragmatist would have stabbed Gollum early on but Bilbo and Frodo are too soft-hearted to do it, and Tolkien's point is that soft-heartedness isn't the weakness it's often made out to be.
Alternative Tolkien plots are the stuff of madness.

"We're going to take this ring, on foot, right into the seat of Sauron's power, and throw it into the volcano."

"No eagles?"

"Nope. On foot. It's much safer, despite the orcs and the giant spider and that thing in Moria and so on."

"Why Mt Doom?"

"Huh?"

"Well, it's hardly the hottest volcano, around, is it? I mean, the dwarves can get you a white-hot fire that will make Mt Doom look like a child's toy. Even the lava bombs are pretty pathetic..."

"Don't you have another breakfast to eat?"
 
Alternative Tolkien plots are the stuff of madness.

"We're going to take this ring, on foot, right into the seat of Sauron's power, and throw it into the volcano."

"No eagles?"

"Nope. On foot. It's much safer, despite the orcs and the giant spider and that thing in Moria and so on."

"Why Mt Doom?"

"Huh?"

"Well, it's hardly the hottest volcano, around, is it? I mean, the dwarves can get you a white-hot fire that will make Mt Doom look like a child's toy. Even the lava bombs are pretty pathetic..."

"Don't you have another breakfast to eat?"
And in the end, two children are fighting over the best toy and...ooops...They dropped it and it broke (while one of them falls to his death).

Sorry, @Bramblethorn, while I see the attempt to make their kindness towards Gollum mean something, the destruction of the ring ends up quite literally an accident, not the heroic intention for victory or goodness or right.
 
And in the end, two children are fighting over the best toy and...ooops...They dropped it and it broke (while one of them falls to his death).

Sorry, @Bramblethorn, while I see the attempt to make their kindness towards Gollum mean something, the destruction of the ring ends up quite literally an accident, not the heroic intention for victory or goodness or right.
Ah, but if they had killed him earlier, he wouldn't've been able to accidentally take the Ring to its demise. Therefore, the kindness may not have bred more kindness, but in the end, it was generosity and a lack of bloodlust that saved Middle Earth.
 
Ah, but if they had killed him earlier, he wouldn't've been able to accidentally take the Ring to its demise. Therefore, the kindness may not have bred more kindness, but in the end, it was generosity and a lack of bloodlust that saved Middle Earth.
Sam should have just thrown the thing in, like the true hero of the tale that he was.
 
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