"Preachy" Writing is the Worst
Almost every book—at least, every good book—has a purpose within its pages. There’s a reason it was written. There’s a reason the story is compelling or a reason the story has meaning to at least one person. It’s the nature of many great stories for their purposes to shift and change between one reader and another. One person may read a story and find that it teaches them about love and loss while another reads it and finds lessons in empathy. Neither of these readers is wrong in this, even though there is almost definitely an original intent in the work that was behind the author’s first writing.
That’s what I actually want to talk about, here—writing that is preachy in that the author doesn’t leave any room for interpretation in the work. Symbolism and metaphors may even make appearances in the book, but authors still sometimes cannot resist slapping the reader in the face with their beliefs, rather than allowing the work to be interpreted uniquely by each reader. In the worst examples, the author may even stop the story to address the reader directly and explain the viewpoint. So, let’s talk about this phenomenon and why it doesn’t (or does) work.
Exceptions
There are exceptions that prove the rule. For one, non-fiction books obviously are exempt from this because they’re meant to be informative. The writer has a specific point that is being made and is (or should be) offering supporting arguments in favor of that point. Additionally, comedic works should be considered exempt from this (so long as the preachiness is conducted in a comedic way). Terry Pratchett and Lemony Snickett come to mind for the latter. Both have aspects of their books that address the reader directly, and both are done in amusing ways (even if the comedy often has a glimmer of truth to it, as well).
Beyond these, I’m certain that there are many other exceptions to what I am about to state, but these are the exceptions that come to mind at first thought. So while I’m about to disparage preachy authors and preachy books, just know that I am fully aware of exceptions. They’re out there, for sure, but they really just help to highlight why the truly terrible preachy works are so awful.
Heavy-Handed Delivery Doesn’t Have a Heavy Impact
There’s a term that I often see used to describe a few common issues present in writing, particularly from inexperienced writers: fanficky. Fanficky, as you have probably guessed, means that the writing comes off as having been written by a fan-fiction writer. This can encompass a number of things, but one extremely common issue with fan-fiction writing is heavy-handedness. Themes and ideas are used to backhand the reader frequently in the writing, and it’s exhausting. Not only is it tiresome, but it also makes the themes less likely to sink in.
When a theme is subtle and nuanced, it takes more care and attention to understand. Because of the time you are taking to mull over whatever theme it is that the book has threaded through its pages, you are more likely to retain that information. Additionally, because the themes are not so direct as an author explaining them to you as a reader, you’re able to find ways to apply them beyond the pages of the book.
Take Ender’s Game, for example. Ender’s Game doesn’t explicitly talk about any singular, real-world war. It’s about one fictional war, but the themes of the book can be applied not just to the many wars that have taken place (or are taking place) in the real world, but also to many other aspects of life. It’s about knowing and understanding your enemy; it’s about empathy. Because the author doesn’t spend several pages toward the end of the book trying to explain why a singular specific war was bad, the lessons that you can pull away from reading Ender’s Game are significantly broader than they otherwise would be.
Alienating Readers
One of the great things about subtle, symbolic themes is that authors can appeal to a wider audience. If authors are overly direct in their delivery and they provide a message that is too specific, some of their readers may not align with their conclusion. They need to accept the fact as well that, even if they provide all of the arguments perfectly, the reader could still arrive at a conclusion that differs from the one that was originally intended.
That’s okay. Writing is art, and art is meant to be subjective.
What authors absolutely shouldn’t do is state their concluding point directly within the pages of the book. This is the instance in which the book becomes preachy. Alluding to the point is entirely fine, even getting close to stating it, but as soon as a character says something like “and that’s why you shouldn’t bully people” in a manner that seems to be more to the reader than anyone in the story, it’s the end of the line and I check out. Even if I agree with the message, I can still be alienated just by poor delivery.
Of course, it’s definitely worse if the message is direct and I disagree with it, but preachy writing is bad regardless of how I view the ultimate conclusion the author is drawing.
Fix Preachy Writing Easily
What’s most frustrating about preachy writing is that it has such an easy solution. More authors should be employing it—more editors should be encouraging authors to do this. It’s stupidly easy, and here it is: don’t draw a conclusion. Just don’t. You can present all of the arguments, you can make all of your points, and you can give as many examples as you want (subtly, I might add), but you cannot provide your closing argument, so to speak.
For those of us who grew up writing essay after essay for school, this might sound wrong. You’re supposed to write the conclusion. It’s required! And yes, it definitely is… for some mediums. Stories are not one such medium. As soon as an author draws a conclusion, regardless of how it is done, the story goes from Breaking Bad to Veggie Tales. The readers are robbed of the opportunity to draw personal conclusions and are left holding whatever slop was handed to them by the writer of the story. Any depth, nuance, and subtlety that was present in the story up until that point is thrown out of the window in exchange for the singular conclusion drawn by the author.
So, authors, the answer is simple: just… don’t draw a conclusion. Let the reader draw the conclusion. Trust the reader to draw the conclusion, and trust that the reader may be smart enough to draw an even better moral conclusion than was originally intended.
Conclusion
Feels a bit odd to be drawing a conclusion to this post after I just instructed authors to stop drawing conclusions, but… well, this is one of those exceptions I mentioned, given that this is a non-fictional piece of writing. This post wasn’t inspired by a particular book, but rather is just a reflection of my thoughts after many years of reading books or watching films that all have this frustrating issue of preachiness.