Mary Sue and Me

For those who may not have heard the term, a Mary Sue is a character possessed of a bit more virtue, charisma, and magic than is entirely fair to impute to anybody.  Most often female, MS will always be magnificently beautiful, possessed of preternatural intellect and ability, and charismatic above and beyond the call of her role in any story.  Written by a male *or* a female author, even if it isn't a personal projection, I think the phenomenon of the Mary Sue is an exercise of wish-fulfilment; either that of vicariously seeing oneself, or seeing womanhood, by ths standard of our culture's current epectation of The Ideal.

As a feminist, I could speak volumes to the preponderance of the gender of these characters (you can find "Gary Sue's", but Marys seem to dominate the species), but this will not be my text today.


In writing about Clovis, I offered few physical descriptions of my characters.  It's something X and I have talked about often, and I've been on record before as to why I didn't spend time on it.  For one, I believe readers tend to create their own mental pictures - and I believe, honestly, this is actually central to the point and the very joy of books - so it seems silly to go much beyond "big guy, blond, long hair, healthy" or "she was small and had a mobile mouth and slim, nervous, nimble fingers" to my mind.  For two, detailed description is sometimes all too likely to be hagiography.  The historical romances I grew up with were fulsome in descritption, and unvarying in their praise and flattery, so - being a contrarian - I shied back from that.  And finally, given that I wrote in first person, and given my character, any lingeringly doting detail about Clovis' cousins, or even his wives, seemed disingenuous and out of place.  This was a man concerned with much in life, but the tender charms of those around him would not have been paramount.

But I have realized, there is another reason - and it is related to the Mary Sue idea.  I snobbishly believe Mary Sues are often avatars for authors, and serve the function of vanity.  One can be wildly magnetic, successful, gorgeous ... and, of course, unnecessarily persecuted for it ... by living through, and creating, a character with all these attributes.  It doesn't matter whether the author IS or has any of these things - or doesn't.  The point is to fantasize, and everyone does that in one way or another.

Me, I don't need this particular fantasy.

I'm that rare bird of a woman who's too confident (too vain) to wish I were more - or much less - than I am.  I'm the foolhardy and overweening thing who can pick up a fashion magazine, and - far from developing an instant eating disorder, and complex about my inadequacy - puts it down with a sense of superiority regarding my abilities and personality, my sense of style, and my maturity and curves.

But even more important, for my writing ...



I don't want to live through my characters.

This is core, this is key.  This is the deepest and most important thing.

Just as I don't want to be the Next Great Southern Novelist, because I want OUT of my familiar world, and that is why I am a storyteller:  I don't want to re-envision the people I know and spend time with them in the virtual space of my writing.  I love my friends, family, coworkers, acquaintances ... but if the act of writing is "creative" ... then stealing those people and regurgitating them into my imaginary worlds defeats that purpose, for me.

There is not one soul in my life who could have modeled for Clovis.  I took my best friend's hands to use for Clotilde, but not so much her face, her personality.  There is one minor character some might recognize as my avatar, but that one has little to do with the action overall, and the insertion doesn't affect very much.  Though I have an uncommitted idea that one guy herein could look like Shaun White, it wouldn't break my mental deal for my readers to cast him more Teutonic in their minds.  As much pride as I take in my work, my sense of ownership and control over it is not that pronounced.

In any case, I'm unsure I would like to know people like this.  Clovis speaks with my voice, and I hope his charisma is as powerful to others as it was to me.  The character is wildly fascinating, and arrests attention ...  But, as many assets as he has, I'm not sure I would much like the person if he existed.  Even his ghost, prompting me to write, and I never had a close relationship.  I was steward and servant to this king, while I wrote him; not a beloved comrade, or even a counselor.  I owed him something - I owe all my works my best - but an affectionate relationship, I don't have, intimate with this creature of such powerful charisma.  One might sooner pull an angel down by the ankle than claim community with certain characters!



With the second work in progress, it may be possible to develop more closely with my characters; yet even in this case, I don't feel "friendship" nor love for the women under construction.  For me, perhaps, being too involved would make the writing harder; I don't know.  When I was in high school, writing was a personal exercise, and I was incestuously tied up with what I wanted to write about (often historical, somewhat, even then; and yet always very much bound to whatever concerned me then ... generally, that being one boy or another).  Now that I am older, I have a view of storytelling that it is a venture out of mysef, and that it is an ADventure to give to readers.  Maybe I don't count myself much of an offering, or am just too private to be interested in stripping myself bare before an audience - whatever the cause, I just don't write so personally anymore.

Given the problems I have with my ego, I feel this is only considerate to an audience; a work mired down in my self indulgence would be no favor for any reader to endure.  (And yes, I do recognize the irony here ... in BLOGGING - and what could be more self-indulgent, really - about how kind I am, not to subject OTHER readers to exactly what I do here ...)

Of course, nobody's paid to read this site-ful of blather - and few people come here but those friends loved ones already willing to put up with such nonsense.  When paid to publish, my memoir will be no part of the product on offer for sale.  I have a responsibility to produce something better.


***


I said above Clovis speaks with my voice, and that is true.  He made me his mouthpiece, and in doing so I came to speak for his queen, his commanders, his sons, even his enemies at times.  All of them recognizeably share some aspect of the way I communicate, but each one is distinct, each one just as much distinct *from me* as the king himself.

My job as an author is to develop my own ability to use the language - yet also to use it to synthesize many people who are not (recognizeably?) myself.  I have to simultaneously command and divorce myself from those I create.  X and I had a long exchange this week about creativity and art, and I have said many times I claim little authority to call myself an artist - but I am an entertainer and I am a creative craftsman.  I take to my work with all the spirit and inspiration I think some people consider to give rise to art, but I hesitate to take so much credit - and I know I don't even aspire to anything to subjective.

I want to divert you, I want to transport you.  I want you given over, as much a I was, to my story, to the characters and what they do - to be in the setting I tried to build for you.  I want to take you where I went, and yet will be proud if what your eyes see is completely unlike what I had in my mind's eye - will be proud, if my words allow that much freedom, and yet manage enough clarity to fix a picture for you at all.

I want you to become my reader.  All I know about writing ... is how to invite you to join in that contract with me ...