Crowd Sourced Censorship

I have been complaining historically about the hardships of independent authors. It's a jungle especially over the lack of security for eBooks. The content, the formatting, etc, everything is messed with.

Occasionally someone gives you a hint. My guess would be they are caring souls wondering about all the hoo-ha.

Recently, I received this feedback on an independently published novel (penname). Apparently, I came off as "evil" thanks to how I make a character refer to another by the language he speaks!

Background: The characters are all of Indian origin as in - from the country of India. The setting is an "office space".

Fact: This satire captures the whole situation in a true to life manner. The impressions are rarely caricatures and nothing is added or enhanced for comedic effect. In a story that combines angst, mayhem, and uniquely perplexing dilemmas that challenge the characters, the humor is only in the paradox that ensues, inevitably, as the mostly honorable characters struggle to overcome and always fall short.

Characterization: Like I always say, a book is as good as its characters. Shunning this, is like shunning your own behavior.

But pardon me for getting there ahead of reporting my understanding of this grouse.

Critique & Response:

I am not to "allow fictional tropes" that "depict a community in a negative light". Apologies again if it seems like I am splitting hairs. But the opposition was loud and fatalistic.

I tweeted/Posted on X about this today. In my opinion, a social trope of any kind cannot be censored at the time that it is recognized as an inherent trait of that social group by a writer of any kind, be it in fiction or non-fiction or documentary. Even fantasy is teethered to some reality. Bowing to brute force censorship of this kind would not be professional. Suffice to say, the depiction is not "profiling" by the author. It's a reporting of a subconscious profiling by the characters. Much of the criticism comes from people who cannot tell the difference. Characterization of this nature in my book, and in general, is usually fair to all. Indians are an eclectic group, and this is made abundantly clear - in my works especially. People are not homogeneous. The end.

The Worst of It: Such censorship must be called out and every such instance must be dealt with.

It is not okay to sit complacent in the idea that such censorship must be second-guessed. This is not about a marginalized group fighting for representation in fiction. That's where it heads next when they peddle another book in the same context while flagging this one. "This book is about that poor man who could not get a job" and it is written by this millionaire actress, picked by Hollywood, (Yeah!). A woman who never had that issue a single day in her life thanks to her dad's illustrious career! (And more such nonsense). These days I even read about how a millionaire writer met a poor man on a passenger* train...wait...when did they take that train? Or on a hike in the remote corners of a village...wait, they didn't get mauled like the media reports every time someone takes off on such an adventure? Or on an undercover office mission - like that is not at all entirely fabricated! I would "second guess" that all such claims are fabricated.

Should I just hang up my boots over this illogical critique? [This is not even about eerie alchemy. That horror I will detail at a later time.]

*In India a passenger train is the slowest of all trains and the tickets are dirt cheap.

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"Rites" of Speech

Yahoo begins this article The Supreme Court rules for a designer who doesn't want to make wedding websites for gay couples with the words, “In a defeat for gay rights…”

Gay rights, if in loggerheads with a person’s sensitivities when it has to do with notions of upbringing that have traditionally placed him/her in an opposite quadrant, should lose.

Why is that the case?

I am a leftist with no love lost for the conservative right-wing. That is not my motivation for the above statement. If this woman were in my household, I would find an argument to sway her mind one-on-one.

But first, this ruling also brings to mind the chief criticism against X (formerly Twitter) doing away with speech filters, supposedly in the interest of free speech. The idea that free = Christmas for criminals...well... I myself firmly believe free speech does not equal hate speech. There are laws against hate speech. Hate soeech is defined as anything that pokes at the sentiments of a citizen, where those sentiments are protected by the law or guaranteed by a right.

In this case, her rights are higher than the other parties’ rights. This is a simple case of interpreting the rights of individuals as stated under various laws.

Furthermore, this is not a defeat for gay rights. (OR) Is it? Is the author of the article, who jumped to push the button for the future of all such and similar rights - like rights of minorities and the rights of people who are traditionally hated, is he right?

The other items on that list are already protected. There are so many laws. The staggering nature of the pushback against those laws is constantly felt by everyone, anyone who would love to champion these rights, and anyone who is protected by these laws. But rarely has anyone broken the barrier without consequences.

Is this the future - (?!)

As a traditional hater of such people, I refuse to build websites for them.”
    
“Hater of what people?”

“These people who come and take our jobs. I want them out. I have always been clear about that. 
That is my tradition.
My own religion. 
I stand by this with all the might of the mightiest mountain.”


               

We know the above to be ridiculous. The why is clearer when you substitute ‘Gay people’ for “people who took my jobs”.

There is no religion that allows you to hate a person who took your job. But there are many religions that allow these sentiments for a homosexual person or persons.

That is the crux of this issue/argument. (Which also addresses the Twitter free Speech debate in a way, but more on that later)

To summarize – Gay rights weren’t defeated. That they had won those rights, ever, was an illusion.

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Writing To Order

Output from a writing exercise reads better than the novel I am currently working on. I think it is because I get caught up in the story. Most people assume though, that it is because I am bilingual. Proficiency in any language comes from using the language like the way native speakers do traditionally. If native speaking is all it takes, I should be an expert in Tamil. My family speaks Tamil. I have relatives who are certified pundits in that language. I myself am barely Tamil literate.

Funny Story. I learnt Tamil, the little I know, from a person who herself wasn't a native speaker of Tamil. Her mother tongue was Telugu. One afternoon she learned that I have no idea, no way to tell one south Indian script from another. I simply had no knowledge. She sat down and gave me a lesson in the alphabet. Two weeks and I could read the basics. A, B, C, and A is for apple, B is for Ball... (In Tamil the letters begin with 'K'. ) the very basics.

Since, if I have to, I recollect the letters, and literally string them together to read a single word, slowly. I do speak it quite well. As for my friend, she could speak, read, and write, Tamil, Telugu, and English. (Writing novels, not so sure.)

Once you're set, and that begins at a young age for most people, all it takes is the determination to succeed. Grammar is not a skill you pick up by observing. It is knowledge. Like any other subject, mastery depends entirely on practice. Practice makes perfect. Practice (the verb) is essential. The degree of usage as qualified with any term, is usually assumed to be synonymous with the term "native speaker".

Some of it is about the love for the language. A lover can dump you, and take off. Language is here to stay.

Most writers, even those who have only communicated in English, work on it. They build lexicons and practice constructing sentences. Eloquence on the job often relies on such a backbone of learning. That way the naysayers, the competition that tries to get to you in various ways, that unexplained demon called writer's block, and more such hurdles seem smaller than they are.

I have knowledge of people looking to pin writers down with a 'style', which is still okay, but profiling how they string their clauses together, oh my. From there on it keeps getting worse. “What software were you using?”, “What email account were you using?”, “Who were you sitting next to when you wrote that?”, “Were you inside a Starbucks?” “Outside a Starbucks?”, “On the Subway?”, “Eating a Subway sandwich?” “Did it have meat in it?”, “What color was your hair?”, “Is that your original color?”, “What was your skin tone?”, “Were you tanned when you aren’t normally?”, “I checked and you did not get a tan from a pool like you said. What is your game?” [Are these petty individuals winning? Where do they meet to discuss petty? Where is this thinktank even operating from?!]

The worst kind of profiling by far is the guy who goes, "Big words or no?" What the fuck is that? A cap on knowledge acquisition? You know who does that anywhere in the world? We all know who! What gives this person the right?

Experiences, let us discuss that. "This experience is only mine," claimed one man who did not construct a single sentence in my 233-page manuscript. [Details withheld on purpose. He won, and that means I am the one making trouble now.] His yelps are echoed by an unseen pantheon, backing him from an unknown realm. Zoom, in the blink of an eye it is a movie on Amazon Prime.

Infuriating?

What sustains people like me? I ask myself, so I can move on. I see that some have it worse. They are stabbed in the back by their own husbands/lovers/teachers/bosses... I have seen that in most cases, they wear the cloak of savior or helper or good in some way which is usually a very twisted kind of logic that excuses more such bullshit as a legitimate reason to steal.

But back to the exercise that makes such 'saviors', covering up your 'somewhat lukewarm prose' so you can 'let go and write something better', redundant, here's an example.

I often collect a group of words, however dissimilar, and write passages linking those words, often delighting myself if not others.

"You divide a decade in two and you get a lustrum? Notepad doesn't even recognize lustrum as a word. (now it does) Has nothing to do with lust or rum by the way, although limerence does. Three lustrums in eerie limerence - not a title for a paperback romance maybe, but it could be an HBO dirty movie. A lachrymose tale peppered with Sorkinian badinage. (I made up the word Sorkinian. It's from Sorkin, a proper name.)

The characters move through an uitwaaien like experience, which, while partially diegetic, provides a fantabulous release for the audience, an alembic catharsis. An experience fleetingly intuitive between the immersive and the indulgent.

P.S. People like to attach a macaronic sense to prose in any language coming from a bilingual, but that needn't be a rule."

Writing like this is not that hard. But the writer would then be speaking to a different crowd.

Theft, intellectual theft, should not be confused for a master leading you into a better arena. Crafty pilferers lurk everywhere. Beware.

Back to where I write without caring, beyond a point, about the words I use - it is all over my blogs, etc.

Here is a more fun passage from my recent WIP titled, tentatively, "Blank Book - A story about a story that was in another story."

********* Excerpt Begins ********************

"Nothing was going right. For starters, she had worn her skirt front to back. Like she fucking did not know how to put on a fucking skirt.

She stood there right outside the school the second she noticed, rooted to her spot. Around her the playground was empty, but just this second. Children, like hundreds of them, noisy, chattering, giggling, kids, flooded the area like the road was the ocean and the elementary school crowd ocean froth.

A lone adult in the mass, a teacher, eyed her skirt then looked away hurriedly when their eyes met.

She could have crumbled into a heap of designer skirt and undies, but she held her ground, defiant. It wasn't easy. She stood there, handbag full of essentials hanging loosely by her waist, eyes fixed on her manicured nails. Seventy-five dollars’ worth of saving grace. Why was today the day she picked to wear a fucking belt?

The belt. A last-minute addition. Florescent and plastic and reeking of all that. A degree up on the Fahrenheit and it could burn. She needed to find a restroom. She would. Once her legs accommodated her request.

Eventually, she got there. Long after the crowd had settled into their homerooms.

The route to the restroom was easy. It was right there on the first floor. But it wasn't meant to be. Her friends found her. "What took you so long? Come on. The cameraman is here already." The fucking gym was also right there on the first floor.

"I can't."" She froze, "I am sorry."

"You've done this before. Come on!"

"Your fly is open." She had to. Everybody turned to look at where she pointed.

"Now or never!"" She yanked. The skirt moved a little. The belt gave, snapping right under a loop. The loop frayed and held. The belt flew out into the air before settling on the floor by her feet.

People turned back towards her, as if following the trajectory of a tennis ball in a match from open fly to broken belt. The skirt was now worn wrong in every way possible.

A kid happened by just then, and yelled, "Snake!"" pointing at the belt. She reacted like he was right, kicking it away and screeching, because why not?

The other adults yelled, "No. It is not a snake.!"

The mayhem was a blessing. The skirt was finally in place. Even if the whole event got cancelled now, she could walk home in peace.

But thankfully, the afternoon was a success. They had a blast. Everyone knew what had happened, but no one said a thing. The skirt wasn't stealing the limelight, and for the first time she was okay with that. People were interesting even without serving their usual purpose of boosting her confidence with flowery compliments about her fashion sense.

At the end of the evening, she grabbed her register and her calculator, packed her handbag, and marched out in triumph. As far as she was concerned, she had never planned a better event.

********** End of Excerpt *****************

Now back to the writing exercise. If you don't deal with that text sprouting AI thingy the same way, you will soon see yourself heading into depression. See what that guy does. Then do better.

Good luck!

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