Is it good?
This question used to haunt me. Is it good? Is what I write any good?
One day, it occurred to me that the question is meaningless. What the hell does “good” mean anyway? The world began to spin. The question was breaking my brain. I was on the brink of an epiphany—realizing that “good” is entirely subjective. And then my superego threw a net over me and dragged me back into his cave.
“You just need to define ‘good’ better,” he whispered in my ear.
“Define… ‘good’… better…” I repeated slowly back to him, under his spell. But to define “good,” I needed to analyze something indisputably “good.” I needed the best writing of all time. I needed…
There are many reasons to read William Shakespeare. Because you are acting in one of his plays. Because you are falling in love. Because a fairy has turned you into a donkey. Alas, my reason was not so noble.
After reading most of Shakespeare, I broke “good” down to three qualities.
Fun. Shakespeare has not survived all these centuries by being the self-important snob most people imagine him to be. No, he's hilarious and dirty and rousing and fun.
Beautiful. Hamlet could have just said, “Should I kill myself?” But that doesn’t have the same ring to it.
Honest. The shock of Shakespeare was how much I related to him. He gives voice to feelings that still make people blush.
Eureka! I had defined “good.” I knew now where to aim. Make something fun, beautiful, and honest. No problem.
I soon ran into trouble. These three qualities are often—maybe always—in conflict. Let’s say my character faces a crisis. How does he respond? Does he make a joke? A beautiful speech? An honest assessment? Which part of “good” should I prioritize?
No big deal. I just needed an order of operations. Always opt for fun, I decided. Then beauty. Then honesty.
Later, I reversed the order. Then I decided honesty and beauty were the same thing. Then I added “Concise” to the list. Then I created parallel lists, defining “good” by archetypes and themes.
I don’t know when I gave up. Actually, I haven’t given up, not completely. Some part of me is still down in my superego’s cave, trying out new definitions, certain he’s about to crack the code. But the rest of me knows “good” is subjective, personal, not a law. This is not math.