Art and Entertainment - On Purpose in Literature

There's been a debate in the writing community (and every other artistic medium) for decades about the purpose of the craft, with stalwart vanguards on either side.  The thickest line seems to form between those who right for the sake of entertainment, and those who stand on the notion that to write is to add something beautiful to the world.  On the surface, nothing says the two can't coexist, but drop the question on any grad-level English class and watch the pencils start to fly.  So why is this such a huge issue? 

A lot of it comes back to Joyce.  More on that in a moment...

The artistic outlook on writing espouses the belief that a written work must contain a given level of beauty to be genuinely considered "writing."  Any idiot can put words on a page and make people laugh or cry with the right cues.  The need for subtle presentation has long since vanished from our society (see: Jackass the Movie).

A true artist strives for a higher plane of understanding, a beauty that is both subtle and mysterious; one that reflects back on us the truth of our condition through a galvanized everyman.  Who cares if every man can't actually get what it is we're trying to say?  Artists are meant to be misunderstood.  That's the only way we can get anybody to listen. 

The entertainment perspective believes instead in romance and explosions.  People love to cheer for a rising star and a tenacious underdog.  They want accessible, page-turning action and witty dialogue that drives the reader forward like an addict fumbling for their fix.

So, give the people what they want.  Who cares if the plot is thinner than the paper it's printed on?  People laugh, they cry, they experience a vicarious world much more interesting than their own and get a minute reprieve from the dull or depressing world around them.  If you can elevate someone to be a hero in their mind, what greater purpose is there?

It all comes down to why we write.  If you want to change the world, do you start from the bottom, or the top?  The artistic approach starts from the top:  hit the thinkers where they live.  Light under them a fire of new ideas that will drive them to leave their ivory towers and spread the wealth of understanding unto a world divided.

The entertainment approach starts from the bottom up:  instead of writing about the everyman, write for the everyman.  If you can wrap the ideas of freedom, love and courage in a familiar, attainable package, it emboldens the reader to strive for the same feelings long after they put the book down.  Riots start on the ground level, not high in the sky.  If you want to see change, light a fire in the hearts of the working man.

But not everything boils down to class.  Artists aren't all elitists and entertainers aren't all so nobly minded.  At times, it's a simple matter of skill.  Entertainment, from a writing perspective, is an attainable goal.   It's easier to write something fun and interesting, with enough action and dialogue to stretch the page count, than to pack a single new and original idea into something that people still want to pick up and read.

A true entertainer, however, finds a way to pack more than pure emotion into a work.  Stringing those trigger reactions together grants you the power to generate and direct momentum.  You just have to have in mind where exactly it is you want your reader to go.

Unfortunately, artists and their ilk suffer a similar pitfall:  it is easy to seem artistic.  This is where Joyce comes in.  Art for art's sake makes you a narcissist.  Art for the sake of inspiring emotion or inciting change is where it begins to earn its lofty perch.  If you abandon a genuine story about human struggle because you don't feel it's "artistic" enough, chances are you're on the wrong side of that divide.

We've all heard the critiques about modern art in the areas of painting and graphic design.  Just because you feel you put truth and meaning into your work doesn't mean it couldn't have been as easily crafted by a three-year-old.  The idea is important, but you have to know how to present it before it can really take hold.  That is the true tradecraft of an artistic writer:  making the truth subtle enough to be shocking while still vivid enough to be found.

The two notions are by no means exclusive of each other.  Art can be entertaining and still enriching (see District 9, V for Vendetta, anything Jodi Piccoult has ever touched).  Yes, it is difficult:  when you work to make people think, they begin to deviate from being mindlessly entertained.  You have to find a way to make them think while the explosions are going off around them.  That said, what is not easy should never be labeled impossible.  You just have to bear in mind the balance between the two.

If you're worried your work is all fluff and no punch, run it through the action movie test:

1. Is your hero's only likable characteristic his pithy, pun-laden taglines?  Are his flaws actually detrimental to them in any way other than a single contrite scene at the climax?  James Bond and Superman sell books, movies and comics by the truckload, but we're talking about a carefree, lecherous assassin and the Übermensch.  Are you prepared to defend a hero like that?
2. Is your romantic lead's only meaning in life dependent entirely on the hero finding and/or rescuing him? (Yes, the pronouns are on purpose.  Deal with it)  If so, I have some reading I might suggest...
3. Do you spend more time describing the physical features (and outfits) of your characters than their actual thoughts and motivations?  Not only are descriptions laborious, they distract from the valued characteristics.  You're not going to get a Megan Fox in text format.  What's interesting is that you can, you just have to focus your attention on qualities other than her curves. 
4. Is there more than one explosion, chase scene or fight per 10 pages of content?  Is there more than one sex scene, awkward encounter or epic kiss per 10 pages of content?  Now combine the criteria and check again.  ...Still good?
5. Get to the end, then look back over the work.  Evaluate the messages you may be sending accidentally:  violence solves problems, women are best when silent, dreams do come true if you just sit on your ass and wait long enough, etc.  Now consider if there's a message you'd rather be sending. 
   
   Most of the time, you only have to change one thing to turn a bad message into a good one.  Flip one scene around and sudden the hero (however briefly) is the bad guy.  Have the characters in the work itself draw attention to the flawed logic being displayed. 
   
   Any of a number of little things can turn flat action and Mary-Sue'd romance into a realistic and worthwhile read.  It also helps to lend some originality to the work.  And we know how important that is.

If you're worried the work is too artistic for its own good:

1. Keep it simple.  Write your message down in one simple sentence (not a creeping clause-monster).  Is there any word with more than four syllables in that sentence?  Is there any word you yourself had to look up?  Hand the sentence to a friend.  Ask them if there's any word they had to look up.  If it's more than one, consider simplifying your message.
2. Is there a story beyond your meta-narrative?  The difference between a novel and an ethics lecture is that a novel is supposed to contain a story.  Arguably, so is a lecture, but fewer people understand the principles of effective oratory practices.  Who cares?  We're talking about writing.
   
   Make sure that the characters can be cared about.  They're not just pawns on the playing field of your pulpit narrative.  The story is what carries your message to the reader.  If it's too weak and crumples, the message isn't going anywhere.
3. Know your audience.  If you're writing to the intellectual elite, high-brow word choice is not only allowed but practically required.  There are people with the intelligence to grasp the words and stylistic acrobatics you wish to employ, and most of them still like reading books.  Just understand that they are few in number, and may already be open-minded enough to understand the message you're hoping to convey.
4. Check your attitude.  If you're looking to change things, you need to reach the audience you want to change.  That means writing as them, at least at first.  Lure them in close with familiar topics and seemingly agreeable opinions before throwing back the curtains and letting the truth rush in.  If you're standoffish or superior, you're writing for yourself.  If you honestly believe in the message, let it stand on its own.
5. Application leads to action.  Thought is wonderful, and we keep reminding ourselves how dangerous a tool it is in the right (or wrong) hands.  But thought only leads to change if the message can be applied to the situation at hand.  Reminding people of a logical inequity is all well and good, but if you expect it to garner more than a "...Huh" from your reader, don't forget to show them how it can be realized.

In either case, the most important step is to stop and ask yourself why you're writing in the first place.  It's not an either/or scenario here, but if you don't define early on just what balance you're aiming for, you run the risk of falling too far into either camp.  Extremes can be good when they're chosen extremes.  Don't find yourself looking back over a work after the fact and wondering "what the hell was I trying to do here, anyway?"