The fiction writer in me likes gaps in stories because I can jump into that gap and try to suggest something.
Marlon JamesRead
Not every gay person recites poetry or has read Keats. You can get readers through anything if the characters are complicated. You can't dismiss Josey Wales' quite liberal worldview.
Interpretation
Not all individuals fit stereotypes; complexity in characters is what truly resonates in storytelling.
In this quote, Marlon James highlights the notion that people, including those from the LGBTQ+ community, are not defined by stereotypes or narrow definitions. Rather, it is the depth and complexity of their characters that captivates and engages readers. This perspective urges us to look beyond surface-level assumptions and appreciate the multifaceted nature of individuals and the stories they tell.
In practice
This quote can be used to emphasize the importance of character development in literature during a book discussion.
The fiction writer in me likes gaps in stories because I can jump into that gap and try to suggest something.
I'm not a writer on a mission, and I'm very suspicious of writers on missions, but I'm also not living a false life.
If your depiction of loss doesn't make the reader feel loss, then you didn't depict it right.
I always tell my students to complicate your characters: never make it easy for the reader. Nobody is ever one thing. That's what makes characters compelling.
And when you get down to it, Lily, that is the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love but to persist in love.
I met a young man who was wounded in love, I met another man who was wounded in hatred.
An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.
Retaliation is counter-poison and poison breeds more poison. The nectar of Love alone can destroy the poison of hate.
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom-- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The tawdry veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind.
Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn't matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal.
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