God is a hack writer…

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one to have uttered this phrase, usually right around the times that my life took on some bizarre twists that made absolutely no sense. In the midst of the most illogical moments of my life, I would look to the sky and say, “God, you’re a hack.” If this exact moment were written in a book, no one would believe it. They’d complain, “but that doesn’t make sense!” And hey, shock of shocks, real life NEVER makes sense. Any sense we find out of real life comes from our application of coping mechanisms, the worst of which is “everything happens for a reason.” NO, IT DOES NOT. Everything happens because life is random, chaotic, and scary as fuck.

In Lisey’s Story, Stephen King lectures through his writer character Scott about how editors strip his writing of the reality he’s seeking with comments like “This creaks a bit, old boy.” He mentions the classic “dog crosses country to be reunited with owner” story. And the thing is, the movies that do this come across as sappy and stupid, but they get made so often because every few years, one dog REALLY DOES cross the country to get back with their family after a move. God LOVES that sappy shit when he’s writing real life. No, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not meant to make sense. Don’t question it. Just go “Aaaaw,” and move on to the next story.

God writes some of the worst villains ever, and his villains have the worst, most petty motivations to act the way they do. Worse, God makes up “good people” who are really bastards and take offense should anyone point out, “You’re a bit of an asshole, man.” God surrounds villains with good people who defend the villain and swear up and down that their victims are just jealous bitches and haters. God gives us politicians who fly to India to rent children for sex, and then fly back home to lecture poor people about their failing morality because of reality TV. God gives us rapist football coaches who get defended as legends while their victims are blamed for speaking up.

And when people read this stuff in fiction, man, they scream like they’ve been branded with red-hot iron. “NO!” they scream, “SOMEBODY WOULD DO SOMETHING TO STOP THIS!” Not in the real world, they wouldn’t. We’ve just seen another story of rapists bragging to friends while filming their act, and while the other party-goers cheered them on. Someone volunteered to hold the camera for them. Nobody did anything to stop it. They didn’t get caught because of a good Samaritan. They got caught because they helpfully uploaded the evidence for their own trial. And after they were tried and convicted, the real world journalists mourned the rapists. Fox aired the name of the victim, and two GIRLS were arrested for sending her death threats. It doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t have to. Real life doesn’t care about your howling outrage about how badly God is writing the story. REAL LIFE DOESN’T HAVE TO EXPLAIN ITSELF TO YOU AND MAKE SENSE TO APPEASE YOUR FEEL-FEELS.

So readers, when you demand that your fiction make sense, what you’re asking is for every writer to be a fair and just God who appeases your vanities, one who never challenges your need to be right, and one who always assures you that the good guys will win. Even if they rarely do in the real world. You want all writers to ignore real life and lie to you in the worst ways, candy coating everything to please your sensitive and refined palettes. Rather than absorb a story and learn from it, you demand that the story fit your view of the world. You can’t get any more entitled without demanding a starring role in every book.

I’m not gonna launch into another history lesson this time, but I grew up in a dark place with no allies and no hope of rescue. I certainly tried many times to get help, only to be turned away by the authority figures I was told I could trust. Cops, teachers, counselors…it didn’t matter who I went to. They sided with my bullies, or they just ignored me outright. Sometimes at school while I was being beaten, I looked around and saw teachers watching it happen, their arms folded, DOING NOTHING.

That doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to, because good people in the real world aren’t as good as they like to claim. They can be petty and evil if they think it’s justified. The most petty and evil are also the most devoutly devoted to their hack writer in the sky. They say, “I love God, and that’s why I have to fire bomb an abortion clinic.” They love God, and that’s why they fly to Uganda and encourage the government to write bills promoting killing gays. They love God, and that’s why they locked their queer children up in mental wards to undergo electroshock therapy. Because even if God keeps making more gay kids, that can’t really be what He wanted. Gays are an unnatural abomination, and He must really only want straight kids. So if a kid isn’t born straight, hey, let’s pound them into conformity. Why? BECAUSE WE LOVE THE SINNER, NOT THE SIN.

That doesn’t make sense, does it? No, it’s a logical fallacy, but real life doesn’t have to be logical. And sometimes, just sometimes, fiction shouldn’t have to either. Sometimes, fiction should make you squirm in your seat and think, “God, I’m not really that awful, am I?” It should make you question your values by showing you the truth of your filtered existence. And if you reject that fiction as unrealistic, it’s not an accurate statement about the writing. But it is a reflection of your vanity, and your inability to let writers be ugly, petty hack gods.