A failure of imagination

This is from a year or two ago, but I only found it now, so tough.

Tim O’Brien, writing in The Atlantic, has an eminently worth-reading article on the trouble of producing successful creative fiction and the degree to which imagination – however broadly figured – plays a part in that process.  When stories fail (and they often do), the problem, he writes, is almost always a lack of imagination rather than a lack of verisimilitude or plausible characterization.  He provides an example of a failed child’s bedtime story that… well, just try to immerse yourself in this:

Batman weighed 188 pounds. His hair was black. His complexion was fair. Young Batman grew up in Sioux City, Iowa, where he spent an unhappy and decidedly disturbed childhood. His grandfather was well known in town as the man who had invented the machine that lays down lane stripes on highways all across America. Batman’s mother was an insomniac. She could sew pretty well. She loved a good pork chop. Batman’s father, by contrast, preferred seafood. The church Batman attended was made of limestone. His school was a brick structure. The family car was an Oldsmobile.

As contrived as that is, it’s not so far from some of the positive examples I’ve seen provided in creative writing manuals.  Anyway, the way in which O’Brien takes the basic contents of that muddle above and fleshes it out into a story that’s actually delightful to read is, well, delightful.  I won’t spoil it here.  You’ll have to see for yourself.

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