The deceptions of common sites
BarcelonaEvery day I get more and more annoyed by the clichés and conventions that infest all kinds of fiction, whether written or audiovisual: that car that won't start in a moment of panic (but will start at the last second); that conversation between two people that's already finished, but which is reignited the moment one of them leaves and grabs the door handle: the other calls them by name and then says something profound; pregnancies, whose first sign is too often vomiting, while in real life vomiting only occurs in 50% or 60% of cases, but, of course, making a woman vomit is visually more interesting than dialogue; similarly, fictional births are the great deception: water breaking is cinematically more suggestive, even though in real life only one in ten women's water breaks at the moment labor begins; not to mention what comes after: these are the kinds of births that very few midwives have ever witnessed. The characters are also stereotypical, that is, clichéd: the other day I saw Goodbye JuneTo my great disappointment, the roles of the three daughters were repetitions, rehashes: the daughter obsessed with meditation and herbal spiritual nonsense, the capitalist daughter, and prick who never stops working, the devoted and somewhat disorganized mother. I understand, of course, that sometimes, for the sake of narrative economy, a certain simplification is necessary when telling a story, and tropes, conventions, and stereotypes are just that: simplifications that make it easier and shorten the process, but I get the impression that we're going too far. This excessive simplification brings with it a significant leap: fictions cease to represent reality and now only represent themselves. With the advent of AI, all this only gets worse.
I realize that this also happens with the writing profession, which is too often portrayed in a biased way, in the same way that other professions—dentists, teachers, truck drivers—will be, but I don't notice it (as much) because I'm not one. Luckily, we no longer use typewriters; At least that way we've gotten rid of that image of the writer tearing out a half-written page, crumpling it into a ball, and throwing it in the trash, often a great distance, making a three-point basket.
The blank page trope
We've gotten rid of typewriters, but the old clichés still distort our thinking. For example, I think a writer isn't particularly afraid of the blank page: before writing, everything sounds wonderful in their head; what's truly frightening, on the other hand, is the execution, that is, the already written and always imperfect page, the page that awakens doubt. For example, inspiration; this word ALWAYS comes up in the questions when I give talks in high schools: "Where do you get your inspiration?", etc. Someone please tell me what the hell inspiration is: writers work, they don't get inspired, although, of course, there are days when things flow better, just as there are days when you're a better teacher, dentist, or truck driver than others. For example, the idea that writing is the main activity of the writer's craft, when the reality is that the creative moment of writing is a tiny fraction: the majority is—before even starting—thinking, observing, listening, reading, and—then—rewriting, revising, and promoting. No, writing doesn't come out well on the first try, and a lot of work is needed afterward—work far less enjoyable than simply letting your writing flow. For example, the idea that negative reviews always come from resentful and frustrated journalists who can't distinguish true genius, something that mediocre and frustrated editors also can't do, rejecting brilliant manuscripts out of sheer cowardice. Then there's the other extreme (always only extremes; clichés are more understandable): editors who are absolutely enthusiastic and dazzled by the writer's talent. For example, the notion that publishing is synonymous with success; the vast majority of those who are published receive absolute indifference. For example, the idea that writers spend all day working as writers, when in reality most have other jobs: they are, in fact, dentists, teachers, truck drivers, and that's what pays their bills and rent.
The problem is that we continue to interpret fictions as miniatures of reality and, therefore, as narratives that shape our expectations, but since fictions no longer have reality as a reference point, since they have become emancipated and are increasingly anchored in a self-referential world (AKA (rehash), what ends up happening is that the viewer and the reader end up accepting commonplaces as truths, as faithful reflections of reality. In other words, fiction is making us half-idiots and less capable of understanding the world. Commonplace It's a synonym for "topic" but it also means "odorless, common." Dictionaries may indeed contain some great truths.
