Once Upon a Time

Gustave Flaubert apparently took five years to write his exceptionally awesome novel Madame Bovary. Not a bad feat considering, over 175 years after it's completion, the book is still regarded as one of the most 'perfect' novels ever written. 

Flaubert was famous for wanting to find just the right word - le mot juste  in French. Sometimes, he would apparently spend a whole week in solitude, agonizing  over one single page until he considered it as faultless as he could  manage.

In contrast, Sylvester Stallone took a mere two weeks over writing the first Rocky movie - and said of Flaubert's precise writing style, "What was that all about?"

What indeed, Sly.

Of course the times have changed.

In 1856, Madame Bovary was at first considered immoral. Its protagonist has the kind of romantic liaisons that are now, to modern Sex and the City  girls, considered totally normal. Even so, the story still has the power to  shock the middle class sensibilities it was designed to question.

But what of Rocky?

Hardly  shocking on any level - notwithstanding the comic book violence - but  it does have the advantage of using the archetypal underdog makes good  motif that appeals - and has always appealed - to audiences since David allegedly slew Goliath.

Plus, Rocky  made Sly very rich. Much richer than Gustave could ever have hoped to become - and I think that's the point Stallone was probably trying to make...

Which is: Why spend five years of your life working on something meaningful when two weeks will do the job?

Is that the kind of world we live in?

One where Art is essentially throw away? A world where the dumbest of ideas can generate billions of dollars and create industries and employment for tens of thousands? A place where quality is not judged by its execution but by the effect it has on the consumer - no matter how fleeting the idea...

Talking of fleeting, I noticed the other day that James Frey - he of the infamous A Million Little Pieces and the great betrayal of Oprah - was the man behind the Sci-Fi thriller, I Am Number Four.

At first I wondered how Frey made the giant leap from semi autobiographical fiction to SF film production - until I noted that his first film, made for just $20,000, was released at least five years before his NY book deal.

Now,  I don't know about you, but if that doesn't suggest to you that it was perfectly clear to everyone - the media, including his publishers and Oprah - that his book, A Million Little Pieces was obviously a work of fiction, I don't know what does.

All I can assume is that the media conspired to perpetuate a myth that Oprah was well aware of right from the start...

And  talking of myths, there's one that says that when a writer gets an Oscar, he rarely works again - presumably because no director or  producer wants to collaborate with a guy who has "proof" his writing is  essentially flawless...

But interestingly, the producer behind True Blood  - yet another vampire inspired schlock-fest, based on the books by Charlaine Harris - is none other than Alan Ball, the writer of American Beauty.

There again, Ball was a long time TV writer before his Oscar winning movie debut.

I guess the real point of this article is to ask the question, "What should we work on - and why?"

Do we write for ourselves, no matter what the cost in time, effort and the possibility of a complete lack of recognition?

Or do we write for the fickle marketplace?

The usual advice is to pursue the former.

However, my slant is slightly different...

Because  I've noticed that many successful writing projects are in fact borne out of a writer's relationship with the marketplace - and the frustrations inherent in dealing with it.

Famously, Star Wars is a thinly veiled statement about the little guy (Luke S - Lucas - geddit?) taking on Hollywood (the Death Star).

Metaphorically, even Rocky is probably a statement about Stallone's career prospects at the time.

American Beauty began as a cynical indictment of empty headed TV sitcoms.

And  of course, James Frey apparently only said his Million Little Pieces book was all true because he received great pressure from his agent and publisher to do so.

In the current world marketplace, writers needs to balance the possibility of success against the almost inevitable threat of obscurity, given the  number of competitors involved.

And when you want to pay the rent and work on your passion, what real choice do you have?

The fact is there's nothing ignominious about keeping one eye on the media - and fashion - when you plan your next magnum opus.

After all, you want to remain relevant, don't you?

And what's more relevant than the struggling artist - as metaphor for the instinct to explore and prosper and change things - banging his or her head against the brick wall of fortune - until a possible solution appears?

The  irony is that the very things that make a writer come up with a story -  the frustration, even the anger at the lack of success and recognition -  are the very themes that make the writing project work for the eventual  audience.

Worth bearing in mind, n'est-ce pas?

I'm sure even Gustave wouldn't argue with that.

Keep writing!