slyc_willie
Captain Crash
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2006
- Posts
- 17,732
A lot of interesting discussion. 
3113 pointed out an interesting dilemma, as in how to describe something based upon both our own experience and that which the "average" reader might find plausible. I think there has to be some kind of middle ground there, though finding it is no small task.
Zeb's post reminded me of something else I think some readers -- and people in general -- might wonder at.
During my military career, I was able to make it home for the holidays. I had just about a week to spend with friends and family. Anyway, a friend of mine, also in the military (a Marine), was also home and had been tinkering with what he considered his "one and only love," a '68 Camarro. He'd bought it years before for a couple thousand and had since put in about five or six grand more when he could. It was a really nice car.
Anyway, we were heading down a road on the east side of San Antonio, after getting a couple pints of Jack Daniel's. It had rained recently, and the road was still slick. I was in the passenger seat. My friend, of course, was driving. His habit was to drive with his right hand on the wheel and his left on the door with the window down.
I remember the car going out of control and my friend fighting to keep it on the road. But then the world turned upside down, metal was crunching, glass was exploding. I braced against the dash and the floor with both hands and both feet so hard I ended up with bruises.
Come to find out later -- thanks to eye witness reports and the insurance investigation -- that the Camarro had flipped at least twice and skidded on it's left side before, miraculously, righting itself onto all four tires.
As soon as the mess was over, my friend and I sat in the ruined car, crumpled roof over our head, steam and smoke coming from beneath the crumpled hood. We got out, dazed, and looked around, amazed at what had happened and that we were still alive.
Now, being both military, we checked each other for wounds, which meant patting each other down. I noticed that, on his left hand, he was conspicuously missing two fingers -- the ring and little fingers -- and when I pointed this out, he went ape-shit. He had no idea those fingers were suddenly gone. Apparently, when the car had slid along its left side, he still had his hand on the open window and . . . the fingers were sheared off and practically cauterized by friction.
In a strange, morbid way, he went back along the road to look for his missing fingers, with me yelling at him that they were probably smeared all over the road. I can almost laugh at the scene in my head now, but I sure as hell didn't then. It was surreal.
I guess, when it comes to describing the strange and unusual yet still real, we have to take into account the reader's expectations of events, as well as how we have portrayed the story thus far. If we have written something utterly fantastic, then the utterly fantastic is plausible in context. If we write something that is mundane, then we should tone it down, I suppose, in order to correspond to the accumulated average experience of our readership.
After all, while most of us write for ourselves, don't we feel an obligation to represent some of the situations we present in a way that is believable to the average Joe? Or should we just let it fly and let some of the readers be confused/frustrated/perplexed?
Me, I don't think I'm going to change the way I write. But I still wonder how some scenarios will be received.
3113 pointed out an interesting dilemma, as in how to describe something based upon both our own experience and that which the "average" reader might find plausible. I think there has to be some kind of middle ground there, though finding it is no small task.
Zeb's post reminded me of something else I think some readers -- and people in general -- might wonder at.
During my military career, I was able to make it home for the holidays. I had just about a week to spend with friends and family. Anyway, a friend of mine, also in the military (a Marine), was also home and had been tinkering with what he considered his "one and only love," a '68 Camarro. He'd bought it years before for a couple thousand and had since put in about five or six grand more when he could. It was a really nice car.
Anyway, we were heading down a road on the east side of San Antonio, after getting a couple pints of Jack Daniel's. It had rained recently, and the road was still slick. I was in the passenger seat. My friend, of course, was driving. His habit was to drive with his right hand on the wheel and his left on the door with the window down.
I remember the car going out of control and my friend fighting to keep it on the road. But then the world turned upside down, metal was crunching, glass was exploding. I braced against the dash and the floor with both hands and both feet so hard I ended up with bruises.
Come to find out later -- thanks to eye witness reports and the insurance investigation -- that the Camarro had flipped at least twice and skidded on it's left side before, miraculously, righting itself onto all four tires.
As soon as the mess was over, my friend and I sat in the ruined car, crumpled roof over our head, steam and smoke coming from beneath the crumpled hood. We got out, dazed, and looked around, amazed at what had happened and that we were still alive.
Now, being both military, we checked each other for wounds, which meant patting each other down. I noticed that, on his left hand, he was conspicuously missing two fingers -- the ring and little fingers -- and when I pointed this out, he went ape-shit. He had no idea those fingers were suddenly gone. Apparently, when the car had slid along its left side, he still had his hand on the open window and . . . the fingers were sheared off and practically cauterized by friction.
In a strange, morbid way, he went back along the road to look for his missing fingers, with me yelling at him that they were probably smeared all over the road. I can almost laugh at the scene in my head now, but I sure as hell didn't then. It was surreal.
I guess, when it comes to describing the strange and unusual yet still real, we have to take into account the reader's expectations of events, as well as how we have portrayed the story thus far. If we have written something utterly fantastic, then the utterly fantastic is plausible in context. If we write something that is mundane, then we should tone it down, I suppose, in order to correspond to the accumulated average experience of our readership.
After all, while most of us write for ourselves, don't we feel an obligation to represent some of the situations we present in a way that is believable to the average Joe? Or should we just let it fly and let some of the readers be confused/frustrated/perplexed?
Me, I don't think I'm going to change the way I write. But I still wonder how some scenarios will be received.
