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In other words, unless you are more ostrich than human, chances are you’ve recently been required to form opinions on governance and leadership.
While politics are inescapable and might seem to be a distraction from the work of writing, I submit nothing could be farther from the truth. Nestled in the world of policy, megaphones, and attack ads are important, non-partisan lessons we can take to the page.
The Story-like Quality of Campaigns
Take a moment to think back about the elections which pulled you in and kept you riveted throughout. Chances are they featured one or more of the following:
An easily encapsulated, intriguing premise—aka a high-concept campaign.
To give a few hypothetical examples, Can a man become prime minister in a matriarchal country? Should our nation make it a priority to colonize Mars?
A high-stakes conflict with an undecided outcome.
The most engaging elections present outcomes with stark and weighty contrasts. Secede from the larger country or stay? Shift the retirement age to 70 or abolish social security altogether? Change to one official language or retain bilingualism?
But for voters to stay engaged, it’s not enough to present highly divergent roads. Nail-biting campaigns occur when the party we root for—our group protagonist—inhabits the underdog position. They have an outside chance of winning but it’s going to be a wild ride. So give them a nearly impossible task with a soupçon of hope, and watch voter engagement rise.
A choice between two mutually-exclusive goods or two equally nasty bads (a dilemma).
What if you were forced to decide between a robust economy or the colonization of Mars? (Your mileage might vary, but I think both options are cool.)
When It’s All about Character
What about the elections which don’t involve big questions or enormous stakes? Those occasions when, despite the parties’ efforts to paint the choices in black and white, the options are pedestrian and the platforms nearly identical? (Varieties of meh.) What then holds our interest?
We might be persuaded to follow a campaign if we’re invested in a politician’s personal outcome. If there is something about their character which engages.
For instance, as with our fictional protagonists, political leaders aim to display a number of heroic attributes—those which invoke admiration. (You’ll notice politicians often choose titles which makes them sound larger-than-life: deficit-slayer, union-buster, diplomacy-whisperer, etc.)
At the same time, and especially if they claim superhuman traits, they also take care to reveal everyman qualities—characteristics which invite empathy and connection. They are human beings with human vulnerabilities. They bleed like the rest of us. They weep. (If male, they are permitted to clear their throat, then allow the escape of one manful tear.) They cope with family illness, suffer business losses, wear untailored shirts, swallow draft beer. (Note: one aspect where politicians diverge from fictional characters is that any true “weakness” must be relegated to the past, at least insofar as the public is concerned.)
Finally, they might be intrinsically fascinating. Perhaps they are charismatic. They have a worldview or way of expressing themselves (voice) which is unusual and absorbing in its own right. Perhaps we have glimpsed an internal conflict—are they the addict or the statesperson?—and wonder which aspect dominates, which will show up at the next televised debate. Whether we are spellbound with horror at the approaching train-wreck or hoping for their triumph, their personal struggle enthralls.
Campaign Introductions and the Role of Backstory
In many ways, political events resemble the opening chapter of a new book within an established fiction series. Politician X has only a short period of time to gain the attention of new voters, earn a modicum of respect, and orient them to the challenges of the upcoming campaign. At the same time, Politician X must offer fresh and exciting narratives to the party-faithful.
Deft campaigns manage to balance forward action and backstory. I rescued babies from the jaws of lions in ‘02. Now let me show you how I’ll use those skills to tame our [insert your choice of frustrating political institution].
What do we think of politicians who endlessly trumpet their past credentials? Even if we are kindly disposed, their opponents will scent blood and frame them as has-beens, people-of-yesteryear. So as within our fiction, backstory in political campaigns is best dispensed in minimal doses and only when required to drive the present-day narrative.
Mystery Writers Rejoice!
Confused about how to use red herrings in your fiction? Elections are superb places to learn about distraction techniques. Watch a dead body drop in politics—an inconvenient court case about corruption, let’s say—and observe skilled campaigners divert attention away from the guilty party.
One tactic uses volume—a burst of positive plank releases, for instance. Maybe a number of fiery, feel-good speeches. It’s the solution to pollution is dilution remedy, which relies on our brain’s capacity to juggle a limited number of ideas, and to displace one negative impression with a fire hose of good.
Another relies upon quality. The easiest of these is to raise the emotional temperature by projecting even greater blame onto another party. You want to talk about dirt? My opponent once claimed he was the Messiah.
Either way, before long, only the most determined and intransigent voter remembers to link the political dead body and murdering politician in a causal manner.
All Political Campaigners Are Nascent Fantasy Writers
We could carry on examining fictive techniques used within the other genres—thriller writers will appreciate the use of ticking clocks to ramp up tension, for instance, what with election-day countdowns and the timers within debates.
Literary writers will enjoy the regular appearance of unreliable narrators, and learn a great deal about subtextual cues.
But in the end, it is the fantasy writer who most stands to benefit from studying political campaigns. Let’s begin with the regular use of fantastical what-ifs within the political realm. e.g. Imagine this country if you were governed by compassionate, competent, and wise human beings. What if we truly made the environment a top priority?
To support such fantastical elements, politicians craft a world with its own culture and rules, then work to maintain intrinsic consistency. For examples of political world-building, consider:
- The unique form of magical calculus known as Budget Math.* In this system, $0 – $3 Trillion = a surplus.
- The use of politico-speak. For instance, the term my worthy opponent—typically uttered in tones of deep irony—is not an honorific but, rather, equivalent to the Southernism bless your heart.
- Then there’s the regular invocation of supernatural elements, such as the ghosts of political-leaders-past. Depending upon one’s point of view, these specters might be of the inspiring or terrifying variety.
Finally, as with any fantasy novelist, once we buy-in to a politician’s version of the world, they do everything they can to keep us residing within the fictive dream. At least until after we vote.
Now over to you, Unboxeders. I’ve missed many examples of how political campaigns resemble fiction, and how their study can yield or reinforce important writing lessons. Keep the conversation non-partisan, but keep it going, yes?
*My fingers first typed this as Budget Meth, which would explain a few things.
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About Jan O'Hara
A former family physician and academic, Jan O'Hara left the world of medicine behind to follow her dreams of becoming a writer. She writes love stories (Opposite of Frozen; Cold and Hottie) and contributed to Author in Progress, a Writer's Digest Book edited by Therese Walsh.
Nice writing, Jan, but how the hell does this information help me as a writer? Despite the comparisons, I can’t think of any worse waste of time than listening to politicians. And every time I get worked up about politics, leave a comment on Facebook or a blog, I end up losing potential fans of my writing. Frankly, I think this story belongs where all my newspaper stories went — lining birdcages. See, here I go again. Losing friends. Forget politics is my advice.
Correct me if I’m wrong, Jack, but I’m detecting a certain element of…frustration. ;)
Seriously, sometimes it’s best to walk away and return to the page. I’m a big fan of mental health.
Thanks for sharing these thoughts, Jan. Politicians (at least in the US) spin a narrative that shows them in the best light possible. They conveniently omit any past actions or votes that might cast them in a negative light. The media, if they are doing their job, will point out the candidate’s votes, actions, and positions to the voters. In fiction, we show our characters, warts and all. In fiction, the journey is one in which the character must overcome his flaws to achieve his goals. In politics, it is a long journey and an endurance test in which the strongest and most electable candidate usually emerges. Of course, it doesn’t hurt to have a hefty campaign war chest.
What I hear you saying, Chris, is that politics is an excellent place to study the contrast between characterization and character. In a way, political theater is like reading a book in first person or deep third where we are the narrator and the politicians are the secondary characters. Or antagonists.
What always amazes me the most about politicians is how often they try to hide information. It’s really, really hard in the age of social media to get away with anything, and yet every year (or month, or week) there’s another politician who has done something stupid, and then compounded the stupidity by trying to cover it up. It would be charming, in a naive five-year-old-trying-to-lie kind of way, if it didn’t have such serious repercussions. The story always outs.
I agree on all counts, Liz. If I can amplify your comment in a writing sense, it’s a good lesson for writers who use social media. Your past words might come back to bite you, so be prepared to stand behind them if you should become the subject of a “gotcha” campaign.
Interesting piece, Boss! It’s funny but for a guy who has never shied from delving into the machinations of politics in his world-building – particularly the manipulation thereof – I mostly dislike discussion of politics elsewhere. Particularly in social media. It seems today such discussion hardly resembles the word. “Discussion” implies an exchange. Today it’s more about talking than listening, more about imposing than informing, more about affirmation than analysis. I suppose if anyone wants my take, they’ll have to rely on my fiction, as you suggest here, Jan.
It’s probably a wise practice to sublimate one’s political opinions in one’s fiction–especially if you dislike conflict! (Believe it or not, I’m not a fan.)
I find it interesting to watch writers like Margaret Atwood, who writes highly political fiction but doesn’t shy away from political debate. (It won’t surprise you to know that her beliefs are consistent, nor that the weight of her fiction means her opinion holds gravitas.) While that might alienate certain readers, I admire her congruence and thick skin! Not for me, but wow.
Hey Jan,
I would have thought politics was a source for villains, eh? Seriously, there are many analogies for story so why not politics?
I particularly like your idea that politicians, like protagonists, must be several things at once: heroic, everyman/everywoman, and fascinating. Exactly. It seems a tough act to pull off but successful protagonists…sorry, I mean politicians…do just that.
In an even larger sense, it’s useful to have templates, patterns, checklists and tools to apply to stories. I think you may not find many enchanted by yours but, hey, if it works for your then it works.
So nice to be back from my hiatus and back to WU, with a cool post by Dr. Jan to enjoy, thanks!
Welcome back, Don! Great seeing you. Hope you’re feeling revitalized.
*forehead slap* How could I have missed mentioning villains? Thank you for correcting the omission.
Welcome back, Don. You were missed.
Ah, yes. Great characters from politics.
Want to model a [edited to remove a list of hilarious but partisan stock characters.]
Just look to the American Political Follies. They’re all here and ready for your next opus.
Ray, please know that I laughed aloud at your list. It pained me to edit it so we could avoid obvious hot buttons and remain on topic.
I understand, Jan. Your edit brings to mind another player in the political game, the disgruntled person who feels victimized by all those [edited to remove a list of hilarious but partisan stock characters.]
Another funny thought: Some readers are probably thinking I said something even funnier, more radical, or just plain dumber than [edited to remove a list of hilarious but partisan stock characters.]
I guess you and I will only know.
If so, they are underestimating your wit, I assure you. :)
Great post, Jan!
I went to respond twice and my computer glitched both times on my comment. Maybe it’s a warning from the gods of whatever is out there that I should tread lightly in my response. :)
It is a fact, politics makes for gripping stories. Furthermore, some of the most successful books and television series currently and in the past have been in-your-face politics. West Wing, House of Cards, and Game of Thrones, come to mind.
Although I respect the opinions above about artists not getting involved in politics for fear that it may adversely effect the reception of their art, I also respectfully disagree with ’em. Because in the words of one of my heroes, Thomas Paine
“Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it.” Freedom is a necessity to an artist who wishes to create.
I also believe the extreme example of the excuse for sticking one’s head in the sand for the sake of one’s art is a selfish one, and a prime example of that is the art and the life of Leni Riefenstahl.
In fact, the act of attempting to escape the political in real life and in fiction can I believed be argued, is a political stance in itself.
Thanks wakening up my brain this morning. Your post proved more effective than my coffee, so I’m buying you a cup.
I’ve had commenting issues myself, B. It isn’t just you.
I hadn’t heard of Leni Riefenstahl before. For anyone similarly ignorant, here’s a brief bio on IMDB: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0726166/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm
Yes, for the brave, personal politics and art can mix successfully. I mentioned Margaret Atwood in a comment above. From my observation, her platform has both expanded and attracted a stronger core audience because she publicly melds the two. It’s not a strategy for the faint-of-heart, though! If you go that route, best of luck. Certainly, as you’ve said, political stories have a large, vocal audience.
I take your point about being politically agnostic as being a political choice in itself.
Lastly, aw, thanks. I’ll gladly sip my decaf and think of you.
Hi, Jan:
What a great post on learning storytelling techniques from politics. You may find interesting Robert Reich’s analysis of the four main narratives that inform American politics (and, perhaps, Canadian as well). You can Google it and it’ll pop up pretty quickly. (The 4 are: The Triumphant Individual, The Benevolent Community, The Rot at the Top, and The Mob at the Gates.)
I devote a whole chapter to politics in The Art of Character, precisely because it’s so central to out lives — we all know what our political positions are, much like we know our faith (or lack thereof) — but it seems to be a third rail in fiction-writing.
My antidote is to look for the psychological and moral predispositions that reveal themselves in our political leanings. I owe a lot of my thinking in this regard to George Lakoff’s superb MORAL POLITICS: How Liberals and Conservatives Think. He fleshes out the core metaphors that guide conservative and liberal ideology, and shows how they grow out of their distinct views on parenting.
No, you don’t want to tick off half your potential readership by dragging politics into your stories where it’s not necessary or relevant, but omitting it entirely is kind of like neglecting to give Donald Duck pants.
Wonderful piece. Thanks!
Why did I have the feeling I could arm-wrestle you into a political conversation, David? ;)
Interesting about the four main narratives. Canadians aren’t big on the Triumphant Individual, but right now there’s a three-way tie between our main parties, and each lays claim to one of the other three. That’s fascinating. Probably not coincidental, either.
I’ll check out the Lakoff. The parenting-politics paradigm has occurred to me before, so I bet it’s fascinating stuff. (I practiced medicine the same way I parent; I’m sure you’d agree the basic metaphor pervades our work, too.)
As I prefer my cartoon characters wear trousers, I agree. It’s unnatural for a novel to be apolitical. Thanks, David! Appreciate the chat.
Lakoff identifies the two parenting models as Stern Father and Nurturing Parent, which ticked off a lot of conservatives who don’t think discipline need to negatively characterized. Basically, conservatives believe they must raise their children to be strong, responsible, independent individuals in a dangerous world, and they do that by instilling moral discipline and emphasizing obedience to legitimate authority as well as competition, which is where moral discipline gets tested. Liberals raise their children to be happy through fulfillment of their promise, and believe in communication and discovery of the truth through question and answer. Obedience is earned, not automatically given, and the world is not intrinsically dangerous. Cooperation is more likely to prove valuable than competition. (This, as you can imagine, is but a thumbnail sketch.) Very interesting book, I think you’ll like it.
David, adding only a phrase or two here to the conservative repertoire, expressing what is implicit in your synthesis. Seeing the world as dangerous justifies fear as both basis and modus operandi and justifies using it in discipline, morality, obedience and competition. Therefore it’s an anxious path. . . and productive.
I’m sure I will. Thanks, David.
Jan
Thanks for breaking the ‘fourth wall’ of writing, IE mentioning politics.
I see politics from the root off the word, which comes from Latin; poll, meaning ‘head.’ Though it was traditionally ‘head’ in the form of how many heads support this or that idea or this or that person–early democracy counted one head as one vote–I see the individual head as the basis of politics.
What goes on in the head or how we and all our characters behave is always in touch with political concerns. “What do I have to lose? What can I gain? Who should I align myself with? So knowing about politics is another window into character. There are no individual actions that don’t carry the taint of politics.
Still not sure? Try this at home. Gather three/five individuals and broach a subject. See how many coalitions emerge and count how many more opinions there are than people.
Thank you for joining me behind the wall, Tom. I see life much the same way. We make political decisions when we chose what to eat, how to dress, whether to buy a domestic vehicle or an import.
As for writing, if one constructs characters by writing sketches or using checklists–I can’t, it doesn’t work that way for me–I think it’s likely one would still have a good idea of how they’d vote and why.
I am a struggling fiction writer. In a past life, I was a political junkie. Campaign manager for a Mayoral candidate in a large US city. I concocted many pieces as speechwriter and press release author for a ten term US Congressperson.
I’m now retired. Can’t draw on my political well to save my skin. Two half completed novels, twenty short stories of varying length. I did sell several articles on travel, religion etc. I have a fine editor. She’s tough, but patient. And that jug is almost empty. I do not visualize the “Writer’s best friend” collusion! What am I missing?
thanks Jan!
I’m sorry, Ralph. I’m sure it’s frustrating not to be able to draw upon your past work for fictional material.
Rather than the hyperbolic “best friend”, would you accept “unkind tutor”? Because even if you never write a political scene, you’ll have an insider’s appreciation of characterization versus character, the importance of context and subtext, how to engage readers’ emotions. Heck, by virtue of your persuasive abilities, you’ll be miles ahead when it comes to building a platform.
Perhaps the biggest lesson of all will be how to do your best and let go of the outcome. The value of loving the long slog toward election night, or, in writing terms, the day your work is evaluated by editors or readers.
Either way, I wish you the best.
Hi, Jan. Great post! I was so busy today that I didn’t get a chance to respond to this despite seeing it when I first rose. The funny thing is I recently set aside a manuscript. I love the idea of the story, a parable of sorts set squarely in the heat of a political campaign and populated by characters caught in both the culture wars and the glare of a media firestorm. Terrific elements abound, all brimming with potential.
So what’s the problem? Well, the problem is I found myself chaffing at having to “live” in a political world while writing. It wore me down emotionally bringing politics into my “safe zone.” Perhaps I’ll find my way back into the story eventually, but I simply had to put it away for the time being. Was simply too close to home on an emotional level.
You’re always welcome, John. I’m honored you were able to make the time.
I understand about the need to set that manuscript aside. Probably my most commercial story is one which is also dark and heavy as compared to my other writing. It’s best for cohesiveness and self-esteem if I can write straight through a piece, but with this one it’s not possible. Not if I value my marriage.