Another Catch 22

Photo by Evil August belongs to Evil August’s Photostream (used under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike license)

Although I’ve already referred to Catch 22 situations TWICE this week on my blog (for explanation of term, see “What’s a Catch 22?“) this invitation is, BY FAR, the most deserving of that label.

The assignment (should I choose to accept) is to write about that which I never write about. Yet, the moment I mention that which I never write about, regardless of how fleetingly, it’s no longer the thing I never write about.

So in order to write about the thing which I never write about without actually writing about it, I’ll write around it. Starting with wide circles inching ever-closer to their intended target until you’ve guessed that which I never write about without me ever writing about it.

The Philia Family

For the widest circles, I’m going to be VERY EXPLICIT to make it easier for you. I NEVER write about a certain member of the Philia family. The Philia family name (according to “A List of Philias“) means “love or obsession with a particular thing or subject.”

Wow, this list is incredible. You should check it out! I’ve never even heard of most of these Philia family members before.

Up to My Nec(k) in Philias

Photo credit: St Stev / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Here’s an interesting one: coprophilia – sexual pleasure from feces. Must be a misspelling though.  Shouldn’t it be CRAPophilia?

Here’s another one: gerontophilia – sexual attraction towards the elderly.

Hmmm . . . would I ever write about that? I’d never considered it before, but wouldn’t necessarily consider it taboo.  Although, depending upon how much the elderly object-of-one’s-affections has control over his or her bowels, I’d probably need to incorporate some crapophilia as well.

Of course, EVERYBOYDY’s heard of necrophilia (sexual attraction to corpses). For some reason, even though comas are NOT synonymous with death, necrophilia reminds me of that hospital coma joke. Have you ever heard it?  It’s not something I’d ever write about myself (mostly because I’d screw up the punchline), but you can access a pretty good rendition of it here.

P. Phelia (and P doesn’t stand for Poppins, Mary)

Photo credit: Express Monorail / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Moving along through more branches of the Philia family (HUGE family . . . lots of cousins, second cousins, cousins once removed, you name it), we get to the first one beginning with “P.”

P. Philia occasionally lands a starring role in “Criminal Intent: SVU.” If you’ve ever watched the show, you already know that SVU stands for Special Victims Unit. I watch most episodes without batting an eyelash, but the one’s featuring P. Philia make me so uncomfortable in a sick sort of way that I usually switch over to “House” instead.

Ever watch “House?”  Is that guy you love to hate and hate to love hilarious or what???

Yep, you’re right.  I DID change the subject.  If you haven’t figured out who P. Philia is by now,  don’t worry about it.  There are still a couple of good Philias left on the list.

How about this one? Scopophilia – sexual pleasure from seeing things. I don’t really get this one. Seeing things like in an LSD hallucination? Needs more explanation.

And, finally: zoophilia – love of non-human animals or sexual attraction to non-human animals.

Non-human Animals?

WOW, that’s the most interesting of all. Last time I checked, animals weren’t human. So why in the world would the definition specify NON-human animals???

Oh, I get it . . . to differentiate from the human variety like those human animals who get sexual pleasure from feces, are sexually attracted to the elderly, to corpses, and the rest.

I don’t consider scopophiliacs (those who are sexually attracted to their hallucinations) human animals, though, because that would include anybody who’s ever experienced true love (including me!). For more about the hallucination commonly known as true love, check out my most recent True Love Saga post. If you happen to be a crapophiliac, you’re in for a VERY PLEASANT surprise.

Related Articles

The Letter That Killed Me
The Morning After
Road Ahead Closed

In my scan, I watched an episode which seemed so-so. One zombie beheading, a brutal fight, some wife abuse, a raving man handcuffed to a pipe like bait while zombies tried to swarm him–not too bad. But the plot had some holes and lacked good character motivation, so I decided to check another episode. I chose the series opener.

The initial hook has a sheriff’s deputy encounter a small girl in her jammies, carrying her teddy bear. The deputy wants to help her, but when the child turns around, it’s revealed that she’s a zombie. He shoots her between the eyes. In slow motion, with blood splatter.

I nearly threw the remote at my set. Then I nearly threw the DVD away. Then I thought the experience over.

Granted, the genre is horror. By definition, horror should shock and horrify its audience. But to what extent? What separates good story from gratuitous violence?

As a writer, I understand exactly where the author of this teleplay was going. We really need to grab viewers by the throat with this show. We’ll set up a sharp contrast between a sweet little blonde girl in her bunny slippers and a shuffling monster. We’ll show her blown away by a man in a uniform, a man that wants to help a little girl and instead has to destroy a monster. Oh, and we’ll make sure we take screen time to demonstrate that she’s a killer and he’s giving her a head tap in self-defense. Gotta keep him sympathetic while we make the audience scream.

I understand TV. I understand story. I understand plot hooks and stingers. I understand visual imagery.

But I think writers need to think about what they’re doing and why. When you’re writing shock to make your readers (or viewers) gasp and scream, how far will you go? And should you go there?

When should cheap entertainment surrender to decency and responsibility?

Some might argue that there’s no longer a line, that writers bear no part in what viewers or readers do after encountering the actions in a story. Others can cry censorship.

I’m not calling for that. I don’t think writers should be strangled, stifled, or banned. However, I do think writers should govern themselves.

Too idealistic? Perhaps I am. Just don’t offer me the defense of, gory shock sells.

Of course it does. It always has. (Just ask the gladiators of ancient Rome.)

But there are alternate ways in which to supply shock. Alfred Hitchcock’s classic film, Psycho, was plenty horrifying but it didn’t supply a visual of every knife wound–complete with stabbing entry crunch and sucking blade exit.

Before the 1980s, there were certain taboos–lines, if you will, that most writers didn’t cross. One of those was that a writer didn’t harm a child character directly in a scene through  violence. Stephen King was among the authors who broke that taboo. I’ve read that he was uneasy about killing the little boy in Pet Sematary and that he was uncertain whether he could get the novel published or that people would even read it. But he did and they did, and the broken taboo was stepped on and kicked and mangled by enough writers subsequently that it hasn’t been put together again.

Today, I can’t think of any writing taboos still standing. Writers are lobbing any topic, any character action, any degree of violence that they please at their readers, and readers seem to eat it up. Some, like Dennis LeHane and Andrew Vachss, do so for a cause. They say they’re trying to make people understand the depravity of child predators. Reputedly they hope that if the public learns about this type of horrific crime, public outcry will demand something be done about it.

But does public outcry happen?

Look at how desensitized we’ve become. Entertainment, in an effort to keep topping itself, runs farther and farther down a road that’s very hard to return from.

I have a friend who stopped watching NCIS at the close of its first season because Kate was shot in the head. In slow motion. With blood splatter. My friend has worked hard to KEEP her sensitivity. Good for her. I can’t imagine what she’d have to say about a deputy plugging a little girl between the eyes in our living rooms, just so we can laugh and cheer.

This morning, when I mentioned my disgust about the child scene to another friend, his reaction was an enthusiastic, “Isn’t that great? She’s a zombie!”

Instead, I’m thinking about teenage boys being shot on the streets of Florida and fathers striking their small boys with axes before setting fire to them. The news hands us one brutal crime against children after another in a reality seemingly gone mad.

As a novelist, I’m no wuss when it comes to violently wiping out my characters, but I don’t intend to contribute to desensitizing a mass audience just to gain cheap thrills.

I was called a softie this morning. Jokes were made about how I wouldn’t survive a “real” zombie attack.

That’s not the point, is it?

What do you think?