cuttlemefishwrites:

 I will happily give you my unpopular opinion on how angst can get boring. Are you ready? Are you listening? Go get a snack first. Did you get a snack? Are you going to share? Are you back? Are you even ready? 

Angst can be boring when it isn’t written very well. It is that simple. 

I’m not calling anyone out. This isn’t directed at any specific person. This is not a fandom trend. It is a general opinion. My belief is that the intentional choice to write angst comes with major responsibility. 

AND YET(!), most of the time when I see writers describing themselves as ‘angst’ writers, they discuss it and appear to consider it an incredibly cavalier thing, when, actually, really good angst is carefully manipulated and planned. (I also see a lot of people taking very simple, thin conflict for angst.) Like, if I’m seeing that your vision of yourself as a writer is: “I am a natural angst machine, and I cannot be responsible for the feels that I will give you,” THEN I CANNOT TRUST YOU AS MY STORYTELLER. That’s it. Again, it is incredibly personal. 

Why? Because anyone can write angst. Unintentionally. Any story can have angst. Why? Again, this is MY opinion. But stories tend to need some conflict to move plot, character-development, etc., forward. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t stories without drama, but even these will have conflict. And, when they don’t, we know these stories are different: They’re character studies, slice-of-life stories, drop-you-in-and-be-a-voyeur stories, experimental fiction, etc. But angst, separate from tragedy, tends to be a tool that uses external conflict (although there’s always exceptions). When done poorly, it’s boring because it is superficial – so superficial, in fact, that any conflict could be considered angsty if the reader is susceptible (thus, coming full circle to my first point). So, when people define their stories as “angst-filled fests,” I question if I want to read it, not because I am terrified of my feelings going for a ride, but because – to be that bitch – you have now sent me a message that you have intended to define your plot by your ability to fuck with my emotions and that of your characters, with the potential for that to get away from you really fast or have no real resolution. That’s all totally cool! A writer can derive entertainment from anything. It is their story! They can write the latter if it’s going to bring them infinite joy. But I don’t have to make a decision to read it.  

Below are my other reasons why I’m very particular about my angst:

1. Passive characters and random plot.  Like I said, even a story with thin external conflicts, or even one without it (internal tends to be the stuff of tragedy, but you can still have it become angsty), can become angst because of weak character development or flat and passive characters. Irresponsible angst is the type that messes up plot because it becomes ‘throw all the problems at my characters,’ without wanting them to truly suffer. The idea is that, by doing that, there might be this bittersweet element the writer gives to their story for the appreciation of the readers – but this is hardly ever the case. Good angst skillfully takes the strong elements of potential tragedy and softens them, skillfully rewrites them to find this lovely balance of stringing you along, keeping you on your toes, and still giving you a satisfying resolution – not in the ‘what could have been’ (as tragedy does), but in the ‘what was and now is.’ For that you need some really well-controlled plot and some good characters. 

2. Not enough time to develop the emotional weight of the story. I see a lot of angst being written as flash fiction or super short fiction. Sometimes, I also see stories that are LONGER than they needed to be and, as such, also have a plot problem. When I get recced those stories, I don’t trust them. They end up being more attempts at poetry in prose than actual angst, or it ends up being trope-filled, cheap angst to elongate the story line, which, again, I don’t have to choose to read. Good angst is sophisticated. It understands the limits of the reader. It gives breaks, has good timing, and excellent control. If it doesn’t, you will exhaust your reader or, worst, lose your narrative under the sea of tears your characters have cried. 

So, yes, angst can be boring and, worst, when it is BAD, it is REALLY BAD. And I stand by it.