Recently, I’ve become familiar with a delightful new term – “The idiot plot.” Basically, an idiot plot is a summary term for a story’s plot that only works or happens the way it does because everyone involved behaves like an idiot. The consequences can range from not seeing an obvious solution to their idiotic behavior causing the problems of the story, and it’s noted that while idiot plots aren’t necessarily bad or even unrealistic, they can annoy readers who want the characters involved to act smarter than they do.

As soon as I learned the term, I thought about how a lot of comedies rely on idiot plots in one form or another, and also that a lot of tragedies hinge on the idea that an avoidable tragedy that only occurred due to idiotic behavior, often ignorant idiotic behavior, is that much more tragic. As you might be able to see coming, I really enjoy the human element of this. I like the complex interplay between humans, and I like miscommunication or selfish intentions causing a disruption of life. Arguably, “miscommunication” and “selfish intentions” are the source of a good 80%+ of my plotlines. And sometimes, these miscommunications and selfish intentions are caused by, or sustained by, idiotic behavior.

This really puts into perspective a flavor of comment I often get, particularly on Literotica. I often get (usually all-too-gentle) criticism from thoughtful readers who (sometimes even while noting that they appreciate my writing style) have to bow out from reading further because Adam or Quinn or another protagonist frustrates them too much with their selfishness, or their meekness, or, effectively, their relative idiocy. Why relative? Because “idiot” is not an objective term, and as soon as “the idiot plot” exists, arguably any story that has drama in it could be seen, by somebody, as an “idiot plot.”

I like learning about this term because it helps frame and contextualize this criticism in a way that seems all-encompassing but not diminishing. It’s helpful to know, “Ah, this isn’t the type of story this reader was looking for, and that’s okay,” without resorting to, “Ugh! This is a Good Story! Why can’t every reader ever see how Good this Story is?” I write characters – arguably especially protagonists – that make idiotic decisions and engage in idiotic behavior. This is an intentional, creative choice. Some readers want to avoid reading stories with that kind of choice. Are they wrong for not liking that? No!

But I don’t think I’ve appreciated the flipside of that coin enough. Am I wrong for intentionally making that choice? Equally no.

Based on my limited understanding and perspective on stories, I think the only real consistent bad use of an idiot plot is when the story contains characters that should reasonably be smart enough to avoid making such decisions. I wonder if my more popular and smart characters (odds are, you know the one I’m talking about) are as popular as they are because they operate as a voice of reason and also make idiotic choices more often out of ego than anything. I think it’s gratifying to see someone act intelligently – say, as intelligently as the reader – when the protagonist doesn’t. They operate as this vessel of good choices, where the reader can go, “Ugh! Finally, someone gets it!” Once that click happens, chemistry follows, between the reader and this character. Plus, it allows a story’s plot to be “salvageable” in the way that their ideas can help undo idiotic decisions and salvage a good situation from a bad one.

I don’t think anyone has made a story worth reading if everyone likes and agrees with the protagonist. On some level, the reader disagreeing with the protagonist, even slightly and sometimes, is healthy. There’s a way to overdo it – and perhaps that’s the real criticism from those comments on Literotica. It’s not so much, “Quinn is meek and that’s bad,” it’s “Quinn is meek too often and for my tastes, and I’m not enjoying his point of view anymore.” But there’s also a way to underdo it, especially for the characters I create. I can’t help but note that Mutual Benefits is a story that takes the “popular girl and total nerd study together and nerd gets his sexual wish fulfilled” trope and turns it on its head. In a bizarrely similar fashion to what I wrote about in my previous blog, if Quinn was perfectly socially adept, was never meek, and was fully confident and charming, it would have been dishonest in some way. It wouldn’t have been a true enough representation of the type of nerd that facilitates that kind of wish to be fulfilled in the first place. It would be so unrealistic that it would make the reward of sex feel cheaper.

Enter, my style. I’m not content enough to leave it there. I like to make flaws more overt in characters. It absolutely costs me readers and possibly ratings, but it rewards me with a story that, to my tastes, feels a bit more right. As much as some may not like it, I kind of… want Quinn to be so meek or backbone-less it turns some readers off (in both senses of the term). I often want readers to disapprove of Adam’s actions and make his behavior unlikeable, because I don’t really just want to write wish fulfillment, and at the end of the day, I wrote about an awkward freshman getting scooped up by a hot slut in his school that has weirdly high social capital. To write that kind of plot and not make it feel like cheap wish fulfillment requires flaws, requires drama, and requires idiotic behavior.

Does this mean my stories, past and present, are free from criticism? Absolutely not. For example, I am editing Follow the Leader right now, and the more I look back on it, the less I like it. Also, once again, no one that stops reading my stories because my characters are “too <flawed>” are wrong. If a reader feels a way about my story, to them, they’re right, and that’s that. But I do think it’s productive to view things as nuanced, and to see “Adam is too dumb and selfish” as a purposeful choice that will alienate some readers and intrigue others, instead of an objective flaw, or as an objectively good writing choice.

Stories are stories. If a story was fun, then it was fun. If it was good, it was good. If it was bad, it’s bad. There’s no objectivity to this. Let yourself dislike “conventionally good” art as you please, and let yourself enjoy “bad” art as you please, without needing to worry about your opinion when contested with the opinion of others, or against the cold indifference of “objectivity,” which arguably in the context of art, doesn’t even exist. Presumably if you’re reading this far, that means you enjoyed a story I wrote, and I’m glad you did. You’re the reason I keep writing, and I hope my stories to continue to bring you joy. I’ll talk to you all soon.

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