Am I the Literary Asshole for Demanding More Semicolons in My Books?
Kristen Arnett Answers Your Awkward Questions About Bad Bookish Behavior
You already know what time it is! That’s right, we’re back with another scintillating installment of everyone’s favorite drunken advice column, Am I the Literary Asshole? It’s a column that both shakes AND bakes. I’m your host, Kristen Arnett, and it’s book launch week for my third novel! I’m taking today’s column VERY SERIOUSLY because I do not want to fall into the trap of becoming my own worst enemy i.e. The Literary Asshole (it’s the titular role). It’s a book about a lesbian birthday party clown in Central Florida; that classic story we all know. If you’re interested, you could get it here from an indie bookstore.
I’m celebrating with some champagne (or the champagne of beers, let’s be for real). I’d love for you to join me! Cheers, my dear friends!
And that’s all I’ll say on that… Moving on to our gorgeous letters of the day!
1) I’m flummoxed because, today, I read AItLA, in which a person complained about comma overuse. But commas are a long literary tradition. Classic Western literature uses TONS of commas. But semicolons? A serious lack. Am I the literary asshole for having my mellow harshed over the severe lack of semicolons in literature nowadays? And the constant misuse of nonplussed, which editors seem to correct less and less, because everyone thinks it means blase or deadpan? Am I the asshole because I am being driven mad by the incorrect use of nonplussed and the lack of semicolons?
That’s right—I asked about commas and you responded! Thank you, readers!
This takes the comma question to the next level, truly. I will say that while I have not noticed too many commas in books these days (per our last caller, who claimed that the amount of commas they encountered made everything they read feel like an action movie—rapid fire machine gun amounts of commas), I have to admit that I have not noticed a lack of semicolons, either.
This prompted me to sit and consider what I did think I was seeing a lot of (or not enough of) in the books that I’m reading. The answer? I’m really… not sure. Well, maybe I just answered my own question? Notice the… ellipses? I feel like I see them a lot more often in books, but I also don’t hate it! They feel like a friendly presence in text. But I’m not sure. What do you think?
So once again, I’m putting it to you, the audience! Is there something stylistically you’ve noticed that’s driving you crazy when it comes to publishing today? Sound off, I’ll collect all your answers and report back here in the very next column!
But let’s get to the second part of this question before we pour our next drink. You’re unhappy about the incorrect usage of nonplussed, and you know what? You’re not the first person I’ve heard vocalize that particular irritation! Some of this comes from the fact that language is incredibly malleable and the internet-at-large is like a clumsily held hammer ready to strike the sharp corners off anything it touches. I will also say that people are simply tired (I’m exhausted) and sometimes best intentions comes into play in lieu of correctness. But also? Our phones have killed our brain cells and plenty of people just let autocorrect do the thinking for them.
Are there any words that are used incorrectly—in books and elsewhere—that make your blood boil? Sound off, I’ll add those into the next column, too! I love a community poll!
Hey it’s a party—pour out the next round of champagne and toast to our second question of the day:
2) What about options, the pain of waiting for option offers, the stupidity of Hollywood, and the grief when projects go poof like Ray Batty’s tears in the rain?
This is a in interesting question, one I can honestly say we haven’t received before!
Now, I will make this note: it’s a lucky, privileged thing to be aboard the small, not-so-seaworthy vessel that is film and tv options. When it comes to books and publishing it’s hard enough out here already. Every day a different rejection. To be offered an option—that is, possible money for the “possibility” of turning your work into something seen on screen—is something that happens for only a select few. It’s incredibly cool! But it’s pretty rare.
Now, I think it’s important to note that publishing and film/television are two very different animals. In publishing, a contract usually means something is going to happen and it will do so on a specific timeline. When it comes to film & tv, there is no such guarantee. It’s all “maybes” and “possiblys” all the goddamn time.
I’m going to provide my go-to advice here, and remind all my readers that making the art is the fun and important and best part. Any of this other stuff is just an (admittedly juicy) bonus. The making of the thing, that’s what’s important. But hey, I get it. It doesn’t hurt any less when your dreams for what might be inevitably fall through.
But hey! That’s Hollywood, baby.
Let’s tip out the bottle and sop up the last dregs of this champagne. We’re moving onto our last question! #HashtagBlessings!
3) Are MFA programs just pretentious labels?
Oh buddy! Lemme tell you, we’ve received multiple versions of this same question every week for the past year. Everyone wants to know! People have a lot of opinions on the matter! Everyone thinks they are right!
Well, I decided to finally bite the bullet (on pub week, no less) and answer this one for the first and FINAL time:
An MFA is good if it works for you.
Art is subjective, life experiences are subjective. Some people are going to get a hell of a lot out of an MFA and other people won’t. I know everyone wants a real cut and dry on this one, but I gotta tell you, life just simply doesn’t work that way.
And if it did, wouldn’t it be really goddamn boring?
That’s all the time we have today, folks. Thanks for sipping this champagne with me and thanks for always giving me your cool undivided attention. I’ll see you next time when we answer more of your questions and I hopefully make it back from book tour in one piece.
You’re all my shining stars,
Dad
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Are you worried you’re the literary asshole? Ask Kristen via email at AskKristen@lithub.com, or anonymously here.