Contract Between Writer and Reader
By Ann Aguirre | March 14, 2012 |
You may not know this about me, but I’m a gamer. I’ve been playing since college. First, it was pen and paper games, but pretty much as soon as I owned a computer, I also had games for it. Since then, I’ve progressed to console platforms (I do most of my gaming on Xbox these days). That said, some of you may have heard about the enormous controversy over the endings to Mass Effect 3, one of the most beloved science fiction franchises of all time. I’m not here to talk about those… well, maybe a little. Tangentially, anyway.
See, the reason fans are so angry is because what’s delivered is diametrically opposed to what’s promised. It’s like if you had written five books in a series… and with every interview you did, you promised readers everything would be all right; just trust you. Then in book six, a giant rock falls and everyone dies. It’s not just that you ended your series sadly. It’s also about a fundamental breach in trust between author and reader. If you build expectations toward a certain goal, then you risk all the goodwill you’ve created in your career if you execute a sharp 180 at the last minute. That’s not to say you can’t ever write surprises. You can do unexpected things in your body of work. But I really believe it’s wrong to tell readers one thing, and then deliver another.
For example, I’ve been promising that the Jax series would have a happy ending since the beginning. I’ve been telling readers, “Be patient. I know this book is painful. Terrible things happen. Just hang on. The ending is worth waiting for, I promise.” I’ve been saying this (more or less) since book one, Grimspace. I’ve now completed edits on book six, Endgame, and how do you suppose readers would feel if I kill Jax off at the end, or if I write a cheap conclusion to her saga? If you predict they would be mad as hell, well, you would be correct. Because certain promises have been made. I can’t go around my own word without having people call me on it. That’s just how it works. And I really think it’s a mistake to alienate your audience. Now, if I had been crafting expectations toward a tragic end from the beginning, then people would be braced. They might cry and find it to be cathartic, but it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. I haven’t done that. (And don’t worry; I’m only using this as an example!)
For myself, I can promise (after the Mass Effect 3 fiasco), I am more committed than ever to keeping the faith with my readers. What endings have shocked and disappointed you? How did it color your own work?
Photo courtesy Flickr’s jk5854
Ann Aguirre is a bestselling, multi-published author with a degree in English Literature. She is a prolific writer, with nine releases planned for 2011 alone. She writes romantic science fiction and urban fantasy under her own name. As Ava Gray, she writes high-octane romances. She also writes “hot paranormal apocalyptic action” with fellow author Carrie Lofty under the pseudonymn Ellen Connor. Follow her on Twitter.
This is such a great post, Ann! As a reader, I absolutely hate that feeling of the writer’s having broken the unspoken contract with their readership. I absolutely loved the first two books of a popular YA trilogy, bought the third as soon as it was out . . . and was incredibly disappointed to find that the author had written an essentially unhappy ending to the whole saga. It wasn’t just the sadness, it was that I honestly felt that the ending just didn’t FIT with the rest of the trilogy. It came out of nowhere, so that the reader was completely unprepared–and unfulfilled, too. If an ending is sad, it should be sad in a fulfilling way, I think. The reader should be satisfied, even if they’ve cried. But this ending just left such a nasty taste in my mouth that I didn’t even want to re-read the first two books, much as I had loved them.
As an author, I am COMMITTED to never, ever doing that to my readers!
Yes. The definition of tragedy is that it offers emotional catharsis at the end. If a sad ending leaves you puzzled or feeling like all the time you invested in a series was futile, then that sad ending fails. (At least so far as I’m concerned.) I need to feel like my time invested was a good call; that it meant something in the end. Which pretty much means any death short of heroic sacrifice is probably going to piss me off.
Great post, the topic of the ‘implied contract’ between the writer and reader is so important. Not only do we have an implied contract when writing a series, but I think there is one within genres as well. As much as I like to ‘push the envelope’ and stretch myself as a writer, it simply isn’t fair to readers who pay out their hard earned money for a historical cozy and instead end up with an entirely different kind of read. All writers must honor the contract with the reader because if they don’t, the readers will go elsewhere.
Ann, great post and so true. There is an unwritten contract between author and reader. One example that comes to mind for me was The Lovely Bones, one of the most intriguing premises and a riveting read. Then what happened in the last 30 pages completely ruined it for me. Sorry for being negative here but that is the example that comes to mind. As someone once said the best endings are both unexpected and inevitable.
LOST (the television series) fell into this category for me.
Thea, I never watched Lost. How did it end?
Hi Ann, excuse me for stepping in here to answer. I think the problem most people had with Lost’s ending is that throughout the show, the creators promised again and again that all of the mysteries would be answered and that there would be a rational or scientific explanation for everything that happened. Eventually the writers shifted to an “it’s about the characters only, not the island” approach, which angered a lot of fans who felt the island had become a character too and wanted to know what was up with it. In the end, many of the mysteries received no explanation and the ultimate conclusion/revelation/ending was mythological mumbo-jumbo. That might not have been so bad, except that most of the reasons for why things were the way they were felt more like the creators saying “because we say so” after writing themselves into corners rather than the carefully planned tapestry of answers viewers were promised. A lot of people had similar issues with the end of Battlestar Galactica as well.
I’m not disagreeing with anything you’ve said — I definitely think that’s how people saw LOST’s ending — but I have to defend BSG. (Not specifically to you, just in general. :P) LOST’s ending was a huge copout, in many people’s opinions. BSG’s ending may not have given all the answers people wanted, but that was very in line with the philosophy of the show. And it was no copout. It didn’t undo or nullify anything that had happened in the show’s earlier seasons. In fact, I’m rewatching the series on Netflix now, and it’s amazing to me how much the last episodes fit with everything they set up, even before they had truly figured out the ending.
Ann,
You got me thinking – which in blog world is synonymous to success.
There is one book that comes to mind that after closing the last page left me feeling cheated. I don’t want to mention any names, so I will just tell you that I was completely captured in the story (likely what heightened my sense of feeling cheated), the author developed an intricate cast of characters in a world where good was obvious and every where, but evil also lurked, hiding in plain sight, waiting for it’s time. Then it ended by evil hopping on a flaming chariot and flying away. I expected more after being enraptured by a story than to feel cheated in the end. Just the opinion of one reader – I’m sure many other’s have read that book and were fascinated by the ending…
Thanks.
The flip side of this argument is when an author does something completely out of genre/character…To wit, Stephen King’s new book, 11/22/63. Hardly any terror in there! I won’t give it away, but it’s an awesome book, just read it. Not your typical King book.
For you cynics out there, just ask yourself: Does King really need readers to promote his books?
You’ve raised a great subject. The contract with the reader is real, yet to fulfill that contract to the letter risks writing an expected, familiar and unchallenging story.
I believe there’s a balance: Some events in your story should unsettle. (How else will you stick in readers’ minds?) But the big promises need to be kept.
I’d add this point: Your contract is written in your novel’s opening lines. “Once upon a time…” is an obvious example. That story had better be a fairy tale.
“The mood at Lady Higgenbotham’s winter ball was carefree, the gowns audacious…” If that’s not an historical romance I’ll ask for my money back.
“It was called Rottenville for a reason…” I’m pouring a Scotch for an evening of noir, aren’t you?
“My sister’s closet was an explosion, like her life.” Mmm…women’s or literary fiction. I’m expecting to be blown away by beautiful writing.
So, to know what contract you’re writing with readers, read your opening lines.
Nice post, Ann.
One could argue that a writer could open a book with something of a genre convention, only to flip the story on its head and subvert all the tropes. (An example would be a twisted fairy tale, etc.) Nevertheless, your basic point still stands, because this twist should be evident fairly early on–it just might require reading a little further on. (And of course, the back cover copy would probably reveal this to a reader picking up work by an author for the first time.)
I’d take it one step further and say that there are a goodly number of readers out there that would be disappointed (or angry even) with anything other than a happy ending regardless of genre or opening lines.
And that is unfortunate.
This is such a good topic! I agree with Thea that Lost didn’t fulfill their contract. I think the problem with that show is that the beginning promised us a mystery — or rather, a series of mysteries — about what the heck this island is. Readers and viewers expect mysteries to be solved. The end of the show left the Big Answer very, very ambiguous. Like Mr. Maass said, we can take twists and turns in the middle, and even some unexpected endings, but they need to satisfy the big promise. And Lost didn’t do that; they danced around it. Nice post, Ann!
I love this notion of a contract, Ann. Great post.
I think it is more than what a writer (or a game creator or a filmmaker) promises explicitly… it is also what they implicitly promise within the content they create. (I like Donald’s examples and his take that the “big promises need to be kept.”) It’s fabulous if the ending surprises us (in either happy or tragic ways), but I think it must (upon reflection) also make sense given all that came before… it shouldn’t come out of nowhere.
Shoot… I can’t think of any perfect literary examples right now, but I do know that I stopped watching Lost because I didn’t understand the contract between me and the show (???). On the other hand, I devoured The Wire (twice so far) because I felt it delivered what it promised (and more).
The first thing that came to mind for me was the show Veronica Mars. Not that it’s a happy show, but viewers were teased with a love story from the first season and in the end, we were stripped of even our ability to hope for it. I would have been okay with an ambiguous ending instead of a happy one, but to be told I wasn’t even allowed to hope was frustrating.
Another way authors can breach the writer/reader contract is by not answering your questions, only luring you into a sequel. There’s a fine balance between answering the core question of the first novel and teasing the reader into wanting to read the next in the series.
That’s a good point. Where does a cliffhanger ending become simple sequel baiting?
My first-ever wall-banger book made me tremble with anger because I cared about those characters and the ending was a cop-out. I haven’t picked up another book by that author since. (Interestingly, it went on to become a blockbuster hit, but only after the ending was completely rewritten for the movie.)
They say human memory is primed to remember the beginning of an experience, significant milestones, and the ending. Get the first two wrong, your reader will quit. Fail to stick the landing, you’ll have a resentful reader, which is far worse than apathy IMHO.
It’s definitely like breaking a contract! I don’t think I’d like it if someone didn’t do what they’d promised in a book I was reading… I wouldn’t do it.
Excellent post, Ann, and an excellent discussion, I noticed a few pros! Yes, you’re absolutely right, there’s an implicit contract between the author and his/her readers. The contract is expressed in the genre: if your plot doesn’t fit the genre’s parameters ( including story “arc” and writing style), then there’s a breach of contract!
I think the only genre that isn’t constrained in this fashion is the so-called “literary” category. No holds barred here! Readers almost expect you to breach the contract! Well, perhaps I’m exaggerating, but you see what I mean.
Which is why it’s very dangerous to pick up a “literary” novel: it’s bound to have a twist at the end and you may not like it!
I think I’ve read the same trilogy as Anna Elliott, or one very similar. Looking at fan forums I know I wasn’t the only one who had a horrified reaction to what the author did with one of the characters in the last book – someone solid, good and reliable did something awful and completely out of character. It felt like a betrayal. I still don’t understand why a writer of great ability would make what felt like a giant misstep, disappointing fans like that.
I do not like when authors do the “AHA! GOT YOU!” endings — I want to throw the book across the room –unless they did it in such a way, so brilliantly, I am forced to go “okay, I see now how this is the only thing that could have happened, after all.”
Absolutely know what everyone means on this. I just finished reading the first book of a very popular YA series, and the ending of the first book disturbs me so much that despite not really wanting to read anything the author has to write ever again, I feel the need to read the next book just to see if the author changed her mind on the most icky of the contract breaches.
Basically, this author spent ninety percent of this book setting up a love triangle, only to tell us that the main love interest (the one you’re supposed to want to work out) is actually the MC’s brother. She’d done so much twisting and turning and “you don’t really know the truth”-ing that I don’t even know to believe her on this part. Hence the needing to read part 2.
I was so annoyed, and it was a really long book (490 pages), and I had spent three long days reading it, just to have my expectations ripped away for some cheap twist ending. What’s worse is that the characters didn’t even respond in a satisfying way… just went off to be a happy family. What? Am I supposed to buy that? I’m just glad I borrowed it from the library.
I love an ending where I am surprised and yet it feels absolutely right. Where the writer has kept the contract with the reader and still blown me away.
I will remember for all time the murder mystery in which the murderer turned out to be someone who was suddenly revealed to be crazy, with NO clues to suggest there was anything wrong with her and no clues tying her to the murder. I liked the main character. I liked the setting. But I’ve never bought another book by that author and probably never will.
[…] story, and doesn’t go against the pact you’ve forged with your reader–something Ann Aguirre wrote about here in March. I have always loved the rightness and often surprise with solid story endings. Fiction […]