When I was a little guy, I was both mischievous and an ardent rule-follower. That sounds like an oxymoron, but there’s truth in it. I enjoyed bending or breaking rules when I found a way to circumvent them. I’d stay up late on a school night reading or playing video games, then steal back some lost sleep with micro naps in class. When Star Wars: Episode III — The Revenge of the Sith premiered in 2005, I cut class with a few friends, and we spent the afternoon at the movie theater. This was far from the only time I flaked on important opportunities in lieu of fun, and as I grew, I found creative ways to skirt the “way things are supposed to be” for mischief.
At the same time, I was strict about which principles or rules I followed. Because storytelling was so important to me at a young age, I was a devout believer that there was an order to art and creativity, that there were laws that weren’t supposed to be broken. Vampires were warded off by garlic and avoided sunlight for fear of death. Silver bullets were the main method of dealing with werewolves. That sort of thing.
It sounds silly to think of myself as a child who was comfortable with skirting social expectations and norms but consumed books, movies, and comics with such rigidity. But this is also something that’s so very human. It’s a dichotomy we all carry with us in one way or another.
Eventually, I dropped the rigidity when it came to art and creativity. It came about in the most unexpected way. I watched a vampire flick called Innocent Blood, wherein an empathetic “good” vampire had to slay nefarious mobster vampires who were turning New York City into their playground. She did so with a gun, and the “bad” vampires were killed by destroying their brains. As much as it was fun, my brain couldn’t process rules normally reserved for ghouls or the living dead being applied to vampires here—two distinctly different monster types.
It was an interview I found with the director, John Landis, that ultimately changed my mind. When asked why he broke with lore traditionally associated with vampires, his reaction was dismissive. Landis argued that such creatures didn’t exist. They were made up, which gave him and any other creator the right to bend the rules.
This was a transformative moment, and when it finally clicked, my creativity was truly unshackled.
The stories we come back to and the movies we watch over and over again, they mean something to us. It’s a simple statement, but there’s a power there. In some fashion, they’ve connected with a feeling, a memory, or an idea deeply tied to who we are. Protagonists become the stand-ins for who we envision ourselves to be. Monsters become allegories for real-life struggles, and dramas create a current that helps us cope with our surroundings. But what these meanings and feelings look like and how those stories take root within our souls is a uniquely personal experience.
My favorite stories are beloved by many, but I cherish them because they so succinctly connect with moments in time or feelings that have evolved with each one of my life experiences. Many are world-renowned, yet also feel as if they had been made for me.
The beautiful, awe-inspiring power behind fiction is that it can be whatever we need it to be. There are no rules, other than the ones we bring. A creator may intend to communicate one idea, and the audience can and will run with something completely different. This is why filmmakers like David Lynch refuse to discuss their artwork. This is why Upton Sinclair intended to promote socialism in The Jungle, yet readers fixated first and foremost on food safety in meatpacking plants.
Doing away with rules in fiction helps us stretch the limitations of our reality and envision a better world. In an era where organized crime was reaching its apex and police carried a reputation for taking bribes, Chester Gould conjured up a comic strip detective who stood for everything we wanted to believe in—Dick Tracy. Only a few years later, two comic book creators (Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster) would take inspiration from the tale of Moses and create an immortal champion who would stand up for the defenseless, oppressed, and vulnerable—Superman.
These are just two drops in an ancient ocean of dreams and wishes for a better tomorrow. All across the globe and since humans first learned to create, we have been using our imagination to shape what we see and want to see in the world. As we grow closer together and more connected, we take it a step further and redesign our champions to look like us and reflect our values.
James Bond is brown-haired as well as blonde. Peter Parker is Spider-Man, but so is Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. When Miles Morales was created, backlash was quick and vicious to the idea of a non-white Spider-Man. Over a decade later, Miles is a beloved and revered character to a whole new generation of children who see themselves mirrored in Miles. He’s also been welcomed into the hearts of countless older fans who grew up with a completely different Spider-Man.
What I’m trying to say is, these ideas, dreams, and stories that connect us, there are no rules. There never have been. They have and will always be whatever we need them to be. Travel around the world, and you’ll see vastly different depictions of the same religious figures. Neither of these depictions is inaccurate or wrong; they are exactly who the audience needs them to be. That characterization, in that region, and at that moment in time, is what empowers the audience to go out into the world and make it a better place.
In my younger years, I couldn’t understand this concept. As an adult, it empowers me to better understand not just my relationship with fiction and storytelling, but other readers’ relationships as well.
Why? Because at the end of the day, we’re all yearning for a better world. We all want to feel seen, heard, and understood. These stories unify us; they keep the fire in our hearts kindled and inspire us to connect with our neighbors. When it comes to these ideas, there are no rules; they can be whatever we want them to be.
When it comes to art, don’t build walls.
We’re all in this together,
Scott
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P.P.S. Here are the latest happenings in my neck of the woods:
The most recent episode of The Batman Universe Podcast covers every time Batman retired.
My short story “24 Hour News Cycle of Violence” was published in Behemoth Magazine
I am officially going to C2E2 this year! Drop me a line on Bluesky if you’ll be in attendance.
This issue was originally posted on ScottWaldynWrites.com.