McKee and Morality
Musings by Lisa Torcasso Downing
I am making my way through the Carter-touted Story Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting by Robert McKee and have met some challenging ideas. I’d thought I’d run one up the flagpole.
Early in the book, McKee discusses his take on the decline of the storytelling craft. He faults what I’ll call the assembly line manufacture of stories. But he concludes this section like this:
The final cause for the decline of story runs very deep. Values, the positive/negative charges of life, are at the soul of our art. The writer shapes story around a perception of what’s worth living for, what’s worth dying for, what’s foolish to pursue, the meaning of justice, truth–the essential values. In decades past, writer and society more or less agreed on these questions, but more and more ours has become an age of moral and ethical cynicism, relativism, and subjectivism–a great confusion of values….
This erosion of values has brought with it a corresponding erosion of story. Unlike writers in the past, we can assume nothing. First we must dig deeply into life to uncover new insights, new refinements of value and meaning, then create a story vehicle that expresses our interpretation to an increasingly agnostic world. (17)
There is much to digest here. I’ve read the passage a billion times, trying to process it, to decide whether or not I stand with him. I think he is equating values with truth, and truth with morality and ethics. So when he mentions the “erosion of values,” he could just as easily have written “erosion of morals.” Maybe that’s a leap since he speaks of “what’s foolish to pursue” as a value. Still, he seems to set up “moral and ethical cynicism, relativism, and subjectivism” as the opposite of value, so I’m sticking to my interpretation of value as, at least in part, morality. This fits nicely with my Mormon worldview, so I accepted his position.
In fact, the idea that people with morals, or moral people, are best suited to craft stories that attain a level of greatness excited me. I thought, Hallelujah! What good news for Mormon writers!
But then reality hit: The most devout, or morality-based, of Mormon stories tend to be far from the mark of great literature, a term I admit limps. Oh, I know that some Mormon lit is deep and meaningful, but much is not, particularly if it can wear the label “faith-promoting.” And don’t we think of faith-promoting stories and their writers as being especially morally steeped? I can’t speak for anyone except myself, but to me, these kinds of Deseret Bookish tales are superficial because they will surely reach a moral conclusion that is not only predictable, but is “authorized.” I know from the outset what the moral boundaries of such a story will be.
Interestingly, McKee doesn’t mention anything about boundaries in his discussion of values, morals, or ethics. In fact, he says writers must “dig deeper,” which, to my mind, suggests moving beyond established boundaries. Yet to most Mormons, morality is defined by its boundaries.
Somewhere along the line, it dawned on me that I was interchanging the concept of morality with the idea of religious. Suddenly I lost confidence that religious writers are, by default, moral writers. Certainly our faith-promoting stories are bursting with Standards, spelled with a capital S, but are these Standards the same as values, ethics, and morals?
I’m left asking why today’s best literature is not being created by religious people. Shouldn’t the very cultures that most vociferously defend choosing the right, or doing what Jesus would, be the best at developing ideas that explore moral and ethical controversies?
Of course I acknowledge that many of the greatest writers of the 20th century had strong religious ties. But that is McKee’s point. Great stories used to be written by moral people, but, he argues, the morality and values behind these stories is no longer lauded on a large scale. This brings me back to the question: Have religious people–including Mormons–stopped (or never been) the McKee kind of moral?
One of my dearest LDS friends has cautioned me not to read the kinds of things I read, worrying that the books and journals she questions might challenge my testimony. She, like many others, only ingests reading material she feels is church-approved, or definitively ‘right,” and therefore safe. To her, if anything Joseph Smith taught or did proved to be not “true,” then her entire religion–her life–falls into the chum bucket. Her primary investment is not discovering truth, but sustaining truth as she already has it.
Can that be a moral way to live?
Can a person with such a strong, overarching need to protect his/her core identity “dig deeply into life to uncover new insights, new refinements of value and meaning”? Can he/she “then create a story vehicle that expresse[s his/her] interpretation to an increasingly agnostic world”?
Here my brain spins, so I ask your opinion. Can a person’s faith conviction prevent him/her from becoming deeply, truly moral? If so, is this lack of morality preventing our writers from crafting masterpieces? I tend to think so.
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September 17th, 2009 at 9:33 am
Love love love this! I don’t read Mormon fiction really, but when I was younger I did and the characters never seemed real to me. And is it is so frustrating to feel so limited on the ways in which you can express yourself among Mormons. I do think religion can get in the way of morality—primarily because I think often the Mormon religious culture encourages more secrecy than it does honesty about one’s faults and weaknesses within their marriages, families, etc.
September 17th, 2009 at 10:16 am
“primarily because I think often the Mormon religious culture encourages more secrecy than it does honesty about one’s faults and weaknesses within their marriages, families, etc.”
So very true Alene.
I also agree that reading Mormon fiction leaves me lacking belief in the characters, therefore lacking interest in any storyline the author may have been trying to portray.
September 17th, 2009 at 10:36 am
“The writer shapes story around a perception of what’s worth living for, what’s worth dying for, what’s foolish to pursue, the meaning of justice, truth–the essential values.”
This quote really spoke to me.
Right now I am at ASU taking a fiction class and taking an individual research class on Mormon Literature. This has been a great opportunity for me to compare side by side the modern literature considered great enough to put into a text book and a variety of Mormon literature and works by Mormon authors.
I have observed in only three weeks that while modern literature may exhibit great detail, it is often terribly deficient in communicating meaning in an accessible way, or communicating meaning at all. It can be ambivalent about moral values (which ensures that it will not speak to that spiritual part of man that seeks the higher things.
In Mormon literature, I have observed that meaning is more accessible. I think that there is room for great stories about trying to deal with the pressures of the outside world. Further, I think that creating an excellent story about goodness has to be one of the greatest creative challenges ever, since just about everyone thinks it can’t be done and thinks it would be boring. That has to be one of the greatest opportunities Mormon literature has and one for which it should be the best equipped for.
How about a story about the widow who gave her two mites to the temple treasury. I’m sure everyone always wonders how she got by. There’s room for a story there, but it would take a Mormon imagination steeped in consecration practice to tell it with any credibility.
Try looking at writing a story in a different way. Look at it as if you are a god and this story is a world that you have created. You give your characters agency and they act. You are in charge of when the miracles occur and you have to have a holy reason for them and fit them to your characters’ needs. There are obedient characters and rebellious characters and you try to work with the rebellious ones and use the obedient ones.
September 17th, 2009 at 11:12 am
Excellent post.
One thought: there are many boundaries that are not necessarily tied strictly in to our religion. And there are moral issues that, whether Mormons acknowledge it or not, the Mormon worldview has not yet adequately resolved or even explored.
September 17th, 2009 at 11:44 am
Good point William. In fact, most of our boundaries are probably culturally inflicted. Yet I’m not sure those who define morality by its boundaries are the folks who see a difference between culture and doctrine.
Michaela, I’m not sure I’m on the same page as you. I don’t see, for instance, why writing a story about the widow w. the mites would take “a Mormon imagination steeped in consecration practice to tell it with any credibility.” Perhaps you can explain how a writer would need to know “consecration practice.” Are you speaking of the temple? the united order? or simply charity? And if that, why only a Mormon imagination?
I agree with this, generally: “I think that creating an excellent story about goodness has to be one of the greatest creative challenges ever, since just about everyone thinks it can’t be done and thinks it would be boring.” Of course the statement assumes that goodness lacks tension, a thing anyone who has lived life knows isn’t correct. But I don’t think that a story has to be about goodness to communicate what goodness is. I assume you are equating goodness with morality. That brings me back to my same question. Does religion limit a person’s ability to be truly moral?
September 17th, 2009 at 12:04 pm
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What you’re describing is the opposite of conviction: uncertainty. And the opposite of faith: fear.
The friend you describe lacks confidence in her “convictions” and so she is afraid to be proved wrong. Which, in my opinion, is the opposite view a Mormon should take.
Mormons accept all truth no matter the source as being part of our faith. And so there is absolutely no reason why we should fear to dig deeper. No matter how far we dig, Truth remains the same. The faithful writer should be more confident in delving into shifty territory, not less.
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
So dern straight we should be writing the best books.
September 17th, 2009 at 12:40 pm
I’m with Th here. Living by an exterior code is not real morality or faith. I think the Nephi/Laban story is a great metaphor in this case. Nephi had to depend on his personal conviction and faith to take him through an impossible paradox. It couldn’t have been accomplished with a “church approved” course. Artists (or any sincere seeker of truth) must have the faith to do the same.
September 17th, 2009 at 1:01 pm
Yes, Th, that’s why I added the word conviction. I asked if a person’s faith conviction can make a person immoral. Not if faith can. I’m glad you made that clear. I agree with you.
Back to McKee, though. When he uses the word “truth,” I don’t think he’s thinking of truth like you’re using it. In fact, he’s concerned with defining truth, not revealing it or even seeking it. To him, the value seems to be in finding its meaning. And this is why I’ve read this a billion times. What does he mean?
But I do think the crux of the problem for lots of religious writers is that they write to demonstrate or prove truth, or to lead people to it instead of seeking the value in the discovery of truth and its meaning/relevancy.
September 17th, 2009 at 1:36 pm
I agree, Th. Although let’s not confuse digging in the same soil over and over (and then crowing about the fact that we’ve raked up the same top soil that others have) with digging for Truth.
Lisa asks “Can a person with such a strong, overarching need to protect his/her core identity ‘dig deeply into life to uncover new insights, new refinements of value and meaning’?”
My opinion is that very few people, including very few artists, don’t act to protect their core identity. And that oftentimes acts of iconoclasm and transgression are an acting out to draw attention away from core identity. For all the talk about fluid and multiple identities that came out of postmodernism, it was amazing how there still existed certain core sacred cows and how in the end the transgressions were only allowed to flow one way.
But as Th and Brandon get at, if ones core identity or conviction or faith is secure, then exploring morality through art becomes very possible even experimental. I hate to be cliched but that’s where Flannery O’Connor gets us, I think. And perhaps L’Engle.
Number III of my story cycle “Gentle Persuasions” (which is in the fall edition of Dialogue — get yours today!) semi-alludes to this idea with the metaphor at the end.
September 17th, 2009 at 3:21 pm
“There must needs be opposition in all things.” In my post on “abstinence porn,” I conclude that it “works” to the extent that the opposing forces create a compelling conflict. Chastity stands at odds with carnality. But if you can’t sell the former, then the latter is simply gratuitous. Similarly, if the challenge of the latter is not believable, then the former becomes a meaningless pose. To create a chaste character, you must understand why they are chaste. And to believe that that chastity is real, then the carnality must truly tempt. This means knowing the substance of your own mind.
September 17th, 2009 at 4:23 pm
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I wasn’t clear. Let me try again.
Mormons, in my opinion, are by definition intellectually humble. For all our rhetoric about the one true church, we also claim that there is plenty we don’t know that will yet be revealed and plenty of truth available in other traditions (from Taoism to physics) from which truth can be gained.
Therefore, when I say truth, I don’t mean what’s in this month’s Ensign, but some great thing that God alone can fully grasp. And we struggle around trying to understand it better.
So a Mormon artist’s faith should not lead him to “prove” anything. That’s not even really a missionaries job. An artist’s job is to learn more about truth, creating art that allows others to also better understand just what Truth might be.
September 17th, 2009 at 6:49 pm
Well, Th. Mormons sometimes draw near unto that concept of intellectual “worship” with their lips, but their hearts are far from it. In my ward(s)? I’ve always been a freak because I believe what you’ve stated. I don’t see it in practice in any large way and have heard many campaign against it,both in the things they say and the way they live. That is not moral. And it isn’t faith. And it isn’t the way I understand Mormonism should be practiced, but they haven’t made me prophet yet so I’ll just keep on bloggin’.
September 17th, 2009 at 10:57 pm
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I forget that your experience is the more common one. I’ve been in my ward long enough to disbelieve we can really be so provincial.
(I don’t want to move!)
September 18th, 2009 at 7:19 am
We had a RS lesson a week or so ago about the need to continue learning. In it, the presidency member actually said that we need to be careful what we read and not spend our time reading “for entertainment” (eg fiction). I gave her a public scolding. At least some (I’d say most LDS) religious readers aren’t seeking moral conflict in their books. “Just the facts, ma’am.” That’s a whole differnt pot hole. When the discussion of value or moral issues in the form of life (fiction) isn’t appreciated, what does that say about our LDS societal quest for morals and values? I’m full of vague questions and am unclear on answers. Maybe if I reread that McKee passage again I’ll figure out what it means
September 18th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
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People who think they know all they need to know are dangerous. (Sez I.)
September 21st, 2009 at 10:52 am
This post tastes true to me, and it’s sustaining to know that other people are asking the same questions that I’m still trying to digest.
I think you’re right, that a faith can prevent a complete sense of morality. From an LDS perspective, I think this has more to do with Mormon culture than with the Gospel. As I try to understand it better, I keep seeing it as a Gospel of Paradox, that in reality there are no simple answers, but in between the paradox, in between the reasoning comes truth, comes growth. We may all end up headed in the same direction with similar steps, but my testimony stands in trying to understand how I walk that path in my circumstances. Yet, I don’t think that Mormon culture wants that as much, we want to side step the aching, the agony of being in the middle of it. While it’s helpful to know the boundaries, I found that to a point, that doesn’t sustain me. I had to wrestle with it for myself.
I think morality is much the same way. As I understand it, Morality is the questioning of “what ought I to do?”, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be the answer. It’s the reflection that’s really important.
My favorite story-tellers could honor this – they made me reflect on what the characters should have done, and even though I could see their actions and the attendant consequences, they didn’t answer the question for me. It was still nuanced. It was still open.
That’s what I loved about this peace: you made an argument with McKee’s point in mind and made your conclusion. But as I mill it over, I’m seeing both sides and even though I’ve written this piece in agreement with you, I think I could take a few minutes and write an equally agreeable (to me) rebuttal. So I’m left to wrestle with it, it’s an open question. Thank you.
September 22nd, 2009 at 11:50 am
Chase, fantastic point, this paradox notion. As you say, that tastes true to me. You say “Mormon culture” wants “to side step the aching, the agony of being in the middle of [the paradox].” Sounds very human, doesn’t it? Maybe then, it isn’t fair to say the Mormon culture doesn’t want to address the paradox of how moral questioning and faith work, or religious observance and obedience, together. Sort of along the lines of how unnerved some Mormons become when a person points out our need for the devil. If there was no evil, what would we overcome, press against, grow from?
It is helpful for me to think of the process of reflection as part of what it takes to be truly moral. Truly fair? Truly empathetic? Truly seeking to see through God’s eyes?
All this reminds me of a wonderful article in the recent edition of Sunstone, written by our own AML president Boyd Peterson. Soulcraft 101. In it he reports on an informal investigation he made into why religious studies students leave the church. He suggests that our church culture doesn’t allow room for individuals to doubt. You know. Doubt is the opposite of faith. Therefore if you doubt, you have no faith, and so on. I highly recommend the article, especially to parents still working on raising kids and all youth leader. Oh, and to writers who wrestle with the moral questions in our culture.
September 22nd, 2009 at 1:46 pm
I think what McKee is getting at is that fewer people these days think that anything is of more value than their own lives or even egos. This philosophy would tend to decrease one’s storytelling ability because one could never get beyond oneself, and if there’s one thing that seems to identify art consistently, it’s the intimation of the ineffable, which can never be ego bound.
Great stories reach for great heights. Great heights come about because of great sacrifice. Great sacrifice is never accomplished without values to sacrifice for.
But at the same time, the value itself isn’t the point of the story. The value is not a landing pad; it’s a launching pad. The character wrestles with the value, and that struggle changes the character, and often the character’s understanding of that value.
Incidentally, I think the author must undergo a similar struggle. If the author comes out of a work with the same view of a particular value that he/she went in with, the work will inevitably be flat. Good writing is both craft and soul work.
So if I pursued this line of thought with Lisa’s observations that too often it seems that religious people are ineffective storytellers, I’d say that these kinds of authors use their faith as a landing pad.
September 24th, 2009 at 3:42 pm
whoa. Brilliant, Stephen. Maybe I should keep reading?
September 28th, 2009 at 8:14 am
That’s a great big SI, sister.
September 28th, 2009 at 1:18 pm
I read Mckee’s book last spring, just prior to attending his 3 day workshop. You’re right to be confused by this passage because he uses two meanings for “values;” one is a coloration (positive/negative charge in achieving one’s goal or being blocked.) vs. “Values” as essential Truths. He sees the decline in story because writers rarely allow characters to truly swing between the positive and negative and make real choices as a result.
I think this directly relates to “Deseret Bookish” tales. The few that I’ve read rarely allow the characters to make real choices because of the expectation that “bad” choices will have bad outcomes, and these consequences must come quickly enough to connect with the choice. And, “bad” must be defined as accepted cultural “Values,” e.g. Truth, Justice and the Mormon Way.
Often, these texts are also not open to examining or even knowing the truly dark or difficult parts of life. This brings to mind comments from two top-notch authors. From Wallace Stegner regarding “The Angle of Repose,” “This is a story of a difficult life. Few of us want a difficult life, but easy lives make boring stories.” And Betty Smith of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” “The teacher only wanted me to write about birds and flowers and pretty things. She said nobody wanted to read about ugly things.”
Good stories are about choices. So if we’re willing to let our characters make choices in a real world we’ll get good stories. The most compelling choices are between one good and another, or between bad and less bad. Most Mormon literature wants easier, more sharply drawn choices.
October 2nd, 2009 at 11:23 am
Well put. I find the conflict between sustaining truth rather than seeking it to be at the heart of many of BYU compatriots moral problems. They are sustaining a truth they never found in the first place, and have never challenged it themselves. As you said, great literature doesn’t bludgeon you over the head with moral pedantry, it is a by product of great writing and a good story. Thank you for putting in to words a problem that has often confused me!
October 5th, 2009 at 12:46 pm
Charlene, great post. Betty Smith’s comment takes me back to Potok, but I won’t go there because I’m an old record on him. And I find Amy’s comment that her BYU associates “are sustaining a truth they never found” intriguing. Why haven’t they found it? I wonder if our cultural propensity to “know” everything makes it unlikely for many to evaluate, to search, to question. We (members of the culture) aren’t really risk-takers, are we? But artists must be risk-takers. Risk-taking as a component of truth-seeking; truth-seeking as a component of morality. I like that.
October 18th, 2009 at 6:25 am
Вот это да… По-моему, об этом пишут уже на каждом заборе
October 26th, 2009 at 5:33 pm
What I thought McKee was meaning is that when the deep meaning of a story is the higher road it is a better more inspiring story. I beleave that people more intune with the universe are more likely to write the heroic stories. Hero myths, whether they are Arther, Luke Skywalker, or the dirty dozen, are about faith, sacrifice and a better world. It is the plot ( even in character driven stories) that counts and while I think that yes, more “moral” people will write the lasting stories these writers also must understand evil and how to present it. You must have both to have a balanced “good” story.
Mormon lit in my opinion lacks this balance. They think that they can’t portray evil as interesting or even fun – that’s bad *gasp*, but that is what makes the story interesting. And what if you must do soemthing “bad” inorder to save the greater good? Most LDS lit is girl with sweet spirit meets boy of same fall in love and get together for all eternity. *bleck* They are flat predictable characters – stereotypes not archetypes. Put it this way, do you like the Disney version or the real version? Most LDS art is Disney. Just look at LDS films *rolls eyes*
I believe a person with a more righteous moral compass will write the better literature. However, the writer that puts a certain religion’s POV at the center of their writing can not write anything but propaganda.
I think Brian Sanderson is a good example of someone who, while Mormon, simply tells a good inspiring story in which good people make good choices, bad choices, and even are manipulated by evil while they strive for good. As is said, “to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield”.
my 2 cents