Social Media’s Negative Effect on Prose Style

I’ve noticed this strange trend in the prose style of novels, and I’ve wondered why it’s happening. I finally realized that the prevalence of social media is almost certainly the culprit.

I won’t try to write a whole thesis on the history of this type of thing, but I think it’s pretty commonly accepted that social trends can be a big influence on prose style.

Dickens was wordy because of how serialization worked. The modernists produced intentionally difficult and confusing writing to show how difficult and confusing the world was after the world wars.

And so on.

Here’s the old rule that’s been changing:

Show emotions using subtext.

Stating emotions outright is considered a bit of a faux pas for a reason. It’s a special case of the “show, don’t tell” rule.

When I first started working on my fiction, this came up everywhere. There’s a time and place where it’s acceptable to write: “Joe was mad.” But mostly, this is the result of lazy or untrained writing.

One can show so much more nuance with subtext. Why is he mad? How mad is he? How is it affecting his actions and choices?

Not to mention, showing the emotion makes Joe more human and three-dimensional, because there will be complexity and confusion about the answers to all the questions. It can also turn a passive statement of fact into action.

Joe threw the book across the room at Susie’s head.

The reader can interpret their own emotions into this. Most of the time when I see this rule violated, it’s because the writer doesn’t trust the reader. It shows up in addition to the action:

Susie plopped down next to Robert and placed her hand on his leg. She wanted to upset Joe by flirting with someone else. She locked eyes with Joe and gave him a seductive smile. Joe threw the book across the room at Susie’s head, because he was mad.

Yeah. All that telling can be read into the scene given the context of the rest of the novel or story. Here’s what it sounds like removed:

Susie plopped down next to Robert and placed her hand on his leg. She locked eyes with Joe and gave him a seductive smile. Joe threw the book across the room at Susie’s head.

In real life, I’d try to flesh it out a bit more, but you see the point. Now, I obviously can’t prove that social media has caused this shift, but it makes perfect sense. As a culture, we’re inundated with people’s status updates.

Most of the stories we read are people blatantly telling us their emotions with no subtext. I did a search for the word “mad” on Twitter. Here’s the most recent one:

This is pretty typical. Social media posts tend to be a raw, unfiltered dump of how someone feels. Most social media posts are accompanied by a picture or video. This does the hard work of apt description for the writer.

I don’t want to come off as saying this is “bad.” Social media posts are a completely different medium and serve a different purpose than long-form writing. It’s okay to have different conventions.

What I am saying is that these conventions have started to bleed into longer writing merely because it is what we’re used to now. Very few people read blogs or books or magazines or newspapers these days.

Almost all reading is now done from social media posts.

I have no statistics to back up such a claim, but leisure reading is at an all-time low and the average American spends over 2 hours a day on social media. So I’d say it’s likely true.

I know what you’re thinking: 99% of everything is crap. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions about trends in case I’m reading a string of crap that no one thinks of as good. Well, the inspiration for this post came from reviewer trends.

Many prominent reviewers in the genres I follow have written that certain books have “good writing” when these blatant “mistakes” are all over the book. It got me wondering why reviewers have been desensitized to the emotion dump and have even come to think of it as good writing.

Unfortunately, I blame social media.


Bullet Journal: Becoming Intentional

I do something called Bullet Journaling. I’ve done it for several years as a way to stay organized. If you look this up and you’ve never heard of it before, you’ll probably be overwhelmed by how complicated it is.

But it only looks that way. Once you do it for a few months, you start to see how simple and beautiful the system is.

The word “journal” is a bit confusing. It’s not a place where I write my feelings or whatever. A bullet journal should be thought of more like a highly efficient planner designed to help you achieve large, unmanageable goals by breaking them into simple tasks.

I couldn’t imagine writing a novel without this method anymore.

What does this have to do with intention?

Intention is one of those concepts that got a bad reputation from New Age gurus of the 90’s. I can almost hear Deepak Chopra saying something like: “Set an intention for the day and it will be manifested.”

That’s not quite what I’m referring to. One of my favorite writers, Anne Dillard, wrote in The Writing Life:

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim.

The concept is so obvious that it’s easy to forget. We often think that as long as we have long-term plans and goals, the meaningless tasks of the everyday don’t really get in the way. But, without intention, your days will fill with these tasks and activities, and then, all of a sudden, you’ve spent a whole life that can’t be gotten back doing essentially nothing you consider valuable.

Okay, so we can answer the question now. Intention, to me, is simply taking stock of the way in which you spend your day, so that you end up spending your life the way you intend.

This is why I opened with talking about the Bullet Journal method. The design of that system forces you to rethink what’s important on a day-to-day, month-to-month, and year-to-year basis.

It has you “migrate” tasks. When you do this, you ask yourself: is this vital? Is this important? Why?

If the answers are: no, no, I don’t know, then you remove it from your life. Don’t overthink it. As soon as you start making excuses, you start filling your life with stuff that doesn’t matter to you. This means you’re committing to living a life that isn’t meaningful to you.

Make sure you’re intentional about how you fill your day.

Let’s take a simple example. Maybe you’ve always wanted to learn to play the piano, but you’re too busy. Somehow the day just gets away from you. In your daily log, start tracking an hourly log to find out if you’re doing things that aren’t intentional.

You have some Twitter feeds that focus your news articles. This was meant to save time in the beginning. But now you realize a bad habit has formed where you go down the comments rabbit hole and the trending topics and on and on. The first hour of your day is shot, you’re filled with rage, and you haven’t even read any actual news articles yet.

You relax with some Netflix at night. But you started that one series that everyone loves. You just don’t get it. It adds no value to your life. But you keep going, because you might as well finish it now that you’ve started it.

And there was that time you wanted to know how hard it would be to make French Onion Soup from scratch, so you looked up a Youtube video on it. The sidebar recommended Binging with Babish and Alex French Guy Cooking and French Cooking Academy (all excellent, by the way).

All of a sudden, you’re subscribed to a dozen great cooking channels giving you hours of video every week. You feel compelled to at least watch a few, because, hey, you subscribed. There’s like, some sort of obligation there, right?

Maybe that last one wasn’t you (hint: it was me).

But you get the point.

Little things become habits really fast. Habits expand to fill those gaps in your day. If you were to ever stop and take stock of this, you’d find several hours a day you could have been learning piano. That Netflix series alone commits you to 60 meaningless hours of your life: gone forever. Sixty hours can get you through the beginner stage—easily.

Ask yourself, was that worth it? In twenty years, will you think it was worth it when you still haven’t even sat down at the piano, and now it feels too late? (It’s not too late; this is just another excuse.)

And maybe you’re thinking: but turning my brain off after a stressful day, watching something I don’t care about is exactly what I need to sleep better. Getting frustrated learning the fingering of a B-flat scale is the opposite of relaxing (seriously, that’s a messed up scale compared to literally all the others).

Great! You’ve answered the why. The Netflix series has value to you. You’re doing it with intention. Don’t cross that off your list. Maybe it’s that Twitter hour in the morning you can cut back on. Maybe right now isn’t the time to learn an instrument, and that’s okay, too.

Intention is what matters.

I’m not advocating everyone use this method.

This was actually just an extremely long-winded introduction to say I’m getting intentional about a few things I haven’t questioned for a while.

Every year, I put up a Goodreads tracker on the blog to show my progress on reading 52 books a year. For something like five years, I’ve read 60+ books a year. As a young, immature writer, this was hugely important.

As I learned about prose style, genre conventions, story structure, characterization, dialogue, etc, I was constantly testing it against a huge variety of books. I saw people who followed convention, people who didn’t, if it worked, and why.

In other words, when I started this practice, it was extremely useful. It had value to me. I did it with intention.

Recently, I’ve re-evaluated this practice. I’m getting rid of it. At this point, I find myself stressing about reading books I don’t enjoy just to check off an arbitrary counter. I’m obviously going to still read, but it will be more intentionally chosen and at whatever pace fits that book.

And let’s face it. I’ll probably still get through 40+ books a year. I’m just not going to have the stress associated with it anymore.

I get that I’m being a bit hypocritical or even egotistical with this, because I will continue to recommend other writers do the high volume method. I think most writers greatly undervalue the process of critical reading for the improvement of their writing. Quantity trumps quality until you reach a certain threshold.

Another intentional practice was mentioned in this post. I’m cutting out forced blog posts and only doing ones that I think add true value to the blog: no more stressing about “Examining Pro’s Prose” or “Found Clunkers.” All of my most read and liked posts were one-off things I was inspired to write anyway.

I’ll also use this time to announce next year’s reading series. I’m still getting value from the “Year of…” series, because I’m focusing on and learning about a very specific thing when doing it.

Ironically, in honor of intentional reading, I’m going to do the “Year of Required Reading.” I want to revisit some books I was required to read in high school and see what I think of them now. I also want to read some books required of students that I didn’t read to see if these modern additions are good ones.

I think it will be a fun series, though it might cause some comments from concerned parents if I think a required book just doesn’t live up to the hype.

So far I’ve only decided on To Kill a Mockingbird and something by Steinbeck (leaning toward Of Mice and Men but could be convinced to do The Grapes of Wrath with argument).

I’ve gotten intentional about a few other personal things that don’t need to be discussed here. But I thought I’d give a bit more explanation about some of the changes.

For those curious, here’s an overview of the Bullet Journal Method:

Year of Mysteries, Part 9: The Name of the Rose

I’m honestly a bit shocked at how resistant I’ve been to this book the whole year. I knew it would be “hard,” so I kept putting it off. But I love Infinite Jest and Gravity’s Rainbow and a bunch of hard books.

This book has a reputation it doesn’t deserve. I didn’t think it was hard at all in the same way those other ones are. It’s actually written in a very similar way to the way I write. There are so many interesting layers to this book that it will be hard to discuss the “mystery novel” aspect, because that was only one piece (and kind of the least interesting).

Early on, we get one of my favorite characters. He can’t speak any known language, but he’s lived in so many places that he’s developed his own. It takes from all the common languages and merges into a strange thing anyone can understand.

Eco doesn’t do this in the abstract, either. The speech is written out fully. This character is a synechdoche for the book itself. The Name of the Rose isn’t a historical work or pure fiction or a mystery novel or postmodernist metafiction or theology. It draws on a bunch of sources and amalgamates them to a strange hybrid a reader from any of these backgrounds could appreciate on a different level.

Eco doesn’t hide the pieces. They are all in plain sight through the characters. We have Jorge de Burgos representing Jorge Luis Borges. We get William of Baskerville representing Sherlock Holmes. And the title itself is obviously a reference to Romeo and Juliet.

…Or is it? Eco actually tells us the true inspiration is a Latin verse by a Benedictine monk named Bernard of Cluny. Since Eco was a semiotician, I have to believe he also had Wittgenstein in the back of his head, too.

What is the mystery?

The narrator travels to a monastery, and upon arrival there is a mysterious death of one of the monks. He appears to have thrown himself from the window of a library. Over the next few days, many more deaths occur.

This occupies the main narrative momentum, but I basically want to not discuss this further. Anyone who reads this book for the mystery is in for a shock. Let’s get back to the references.

Everyone sees some of the obvious Borges references here from his famous stories. But if you’ve read Labyrinths, you might start to think every single story in the collection gets referenced.

Much of the early part of The Name of the Rose has to do with navigating a complicated labyrinth (Labyrinths, The Garden of Forking Paths) to get to the library (The Library of Babel). They must crack a code (Death and the Compass, The God’s Script). They speak theology to each other (The Theologeans, The Three Versions of Judas). Issues of authorship with the narrator (Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote). Strange language spoken by the characters (Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius).

I think I’ve made my point. It’s not just “The Library of Babel,” like many people believe. It’s almost a transformation of the themes of the full collection of stories into a novel.

Another fascinating, easy to overlook aspect of the book is the chapter summary at the start of each chapter. At first, I thought they were mere summaries. But they got long and weird and pretty humorous as they went on.

Most people probably skip them thinking they offer nothing but a summary. Here’s one:

In which, though the chapter is short, old Alinardo says very interesting things about the labyrinth and about the way to enter it.

It doesn’t say much, but it teaches you something important: these summaries will provide commentary in addition to the summary. Here’s another:

In which the labyrinth is finally broached, and the intruders have strange visions and, as happens in labyrinths, lose their way.

If these were just summaries it shouldn’t provide commentary on the length of the chapter or how “interesting” a certain conversation is or remark “as happens in labyrinths.” I grew to love these summaries as much as the chapters themselves.

I’m not sure what else to say. I’m excited to re-read this. I think it will be as exciting as the first time through as I catch more and more references and understand the themes better.

I must caution that this is absolutely not for everyone, but if you find any of this post interesting, I can’t recommend this book enough. It is brilliant and well-deserved of the praise it has received over the years.

Let’s Get Experimental

multicolored abstract painting
Photo by Steve Johnson on

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do on this blog. I’m not thrilled about “book reviews,” not that I do those often, because there are a million reviews out there for every single book. No matter how good mine are, they won’t add much to that noise.

I’m also not thrilled with the “writing advice” type of posts. Again, there’s a million articles saying exactly the same types of things I say.

Back in July, I wrote something called Maybe Infinite Jest is About Addiction. It was an experimental piece of writing. It was part essay, part narrative, part literary criticism, part fiction, part nonfiction, part writing exercise in imitating DFW’s style, part philosophy, etc.

It’s not very easy to describe. The point was to have each piece reinforce the other bits.

It took everything I had to bite my tongue when people seemed to think it was just an essay trying to make the straightforward argument that Infinite Jest is about addiction. I still don’t want to overly describe it, but I think it’s fair to say, pretty much everyone missed the point.

(Like, did people really think I was consuming Infinite Jest everyday just like an addict and obsessing over its meaning just like the characters did with The Entertainment, and even waking up with withdrawal symptoms in an increasingly frantic narrative voice despite it being a written essay?)

Anyway, that was partly my own fault. I haven’t really done stuff like that on this blog. It’s also the type of thing I like doing more than the other stuff. It feels valuable and creative in a way the other stuff doesn’t. It adds something to the blogosphere you can’t find in a million other places.

It also feels somewhat particular to this medium in the sense that book reviews and writing advice is so much easier to digest through a Youtube video or podcast. Video and audio have cornered the book review/writing advice market.

Experimental essays that dive into social commentary and philosophy and literary criticism are better suited to the written word, in my opinion. Being, you know, essays.

What I’m trying to say is that I want to cut back on writing a post every X days by riffing on a poorly constructed sentence just because that’s all I could come up with. Instead, I want to focus more on these harder to produce, more creative posts that are unique to me.

I will keep doing the “Year of …” series, because I’m pretty excited for the one I have planned next year (and The Name of the Rose is pretty great). I also expect to keep doing some book reviews and writing advice things and random things that pop up. I’m just not going to force it.

Good luck!

Found Clunkers, Part 1

white ceramic teacup with saucer near two books above gray floral textile
Photo by Thought Catalog on

I often find some really bad sentences in books I read. I wanted to start a series in which we look at why they are bad and how to fix them.

Unfortunately, I’m a bit stuck on how to proceed. I really want this blog to lift up excellent books and art. I don’t want to tear down people who are probably still learning and getting better. In a year, they might be embarrassed by these sentences themselves and wish their name wasn’t attached to it in some blog post.

I’m sure you can find horrible sentences in each of my books as well.

Hence the issue: use a single sentence without attribution for educational purposes (technically a copyright violation) or attach the name and book to it.

For now, I’m erring on the side of writer anonymity. Here’s the sentence:

That sweet, crooning voice, singing a song I’d been in the room for when he wrote.

We have here a classic example of why I say new writers shouldn’t write in first person. I’m sure this gem popped out in the middle of a writing session, when the author was fully into the “character’s voice.” As it came out, she probably thought: yeah, that’s exactly how he would talk.

It’s important to remember that the way people talk does not make good prose. First, full sentences should be used. The above is a sentence fragment. I wish I could show you more context, but the sentences around this are also fragments.

I’m all for using a sentence fragment judiciously for voice, but I’d never do it more than once per chapter. Too many sentence fragments creates jarring, obnoxious prose. It leads to more confusion than it’s worth.

I once heard it described this way: strong prose leads to a strong voice; weak prose leads to a weak voice. In other words, “breaking the rules,” like forming a sentence fragment, is a weak and cheap way to form narrative voice.

Word order pops out next. There’s something funny about: “I’d been in the room for when he wrote.” Unless I grew up with a strange dialect, I’m pretty sure most native English speakers will hear “when he wrote” and feel it is missing a direct object.

So, it should probably read “when he wrote it.” The sentence also has an implied pause after “for.” Again, I’m not of the old school of thought where you can’t end a sentence with a preposition. But in this case, it creates confusion to have “for when” juxtaposed like that.

All I’m trying to say is that the word order is sloppy, and it could be cleaned up easily by writing something like: “I’d been in the room when he wrote it.”

Of course, this brings us back to the first point. The author put herself into a bind when using a sentence fragment, because she didn’t clearly identify the correct subject of the sentence.

She started with “That sweet, crooning voice,” implying this as the subject, but the second clause wants to use “I” as the subject.

I know people don’t believe me when I say to use third-person and full sentences. I guarantee this mess of a sentence happened because using first person caused her to confuse the narrative voice with the thoughts of the main character (leading to a bunch of sentence fragments).

I’ll reiterate this from previous posts. The prose you use when you write in first person is not some stream-of-consciousness coming from the main character (unless you’ve chosen this on purpose for a piece of experimental writing). In modern commercial writing, thoughts of the main character are usually offset and italicized to be clear about the distinction.

This is what makes first person so difficult.

Anyway, I’ll end my rant about point of view. You can obviously do it if the writing calls for it. You must be extra vigilant, or else sentences like this will pop out and sound good in your head.

Here’s my rewrite. I think the key is to realize there are two separate ideas that should be separated: hearing the voice, and recalling the writing.

His sweet, crooning voice lilted through the speakers. I’d been in the room when he wrote the song that changed his life.

I changed “I’d been” to “I was,” because simple past tense causes no confusion and cleans things up even more.

As always, context will matter. Maybe this doesn’t flow with the sentences around it, and some other alterations will be necessary.

Are the Self-Publishing Gurus Out of Touch?


Let me start by saying that I appreciate all the free content people in the self-publishing world put out. It’s quite generous and high quality. There must be ten or more hours of podcasts each week that come to my phone, not to mention blog posts and youtube and e-mails. That’s just me, meaning it’s only a small fraction of what’s actually produced.

If you wanted to be a student of this stuff, you’d have more class time than a full-time college student with no breaks for summer or winter. And there’s so much to learn that it could probably fill an entire major for a college student.

So, thank you to all those content providers.

That being said, I have two theories I’d like to present.

I’m going to call these people “gurus.” You either know who they are or don’t, but I don’t want to name names (google “podcasts for writers” or something if you really don’t know).

Every person I have in mind left their job at some point to be a full-time self-published writer. I think each of them makes at least six figures. This happened years ago for each of them.

Also, each of them has a “thing” they attribute it to: cover design that perfectly fits the genre, great copywriting on the product description, Amazon keywords and categories, Amazon marketing, Facebook marketing, writing to market, price surging, box sets, e-mail auto-responders, mailing list magnets, promotion services, etc.

Note, I’m not saying they push a well-rounded approach to improving each of the above; I’m saying their entire shtick is that once you get that one thing right, you will take off and have huge success.

This seems weird and crazy, so why would they, at least nominally, believe this? The cynical theory would be that they wanted to corner a niche in the market, so they figured this one thing out and pushed it hard as the expert.

I don’t believe this. I think there’s a much more obvious explanation. Like almost all successful authors, they started to gain traction, little by little. They were experimenting with all the above techniques to see if anything could get them a little edge.

As Gladwell explains in The Tipping Point, they just hit a critical mass of followers and readers at some point. This caused them to shoot from obscurity into prominence.

Human brains being what they are, these writers then attributed their success to the most recent major change they made rather than a natural progression to a tipping point. This is how we get people who are convinced you only need to get that one thing right to get success.

And this is fine as long as you don’t take that claim seriously when listening to them. The advice they give on that one thing is going to be pretty solid and useful. It will help keep you crawling upward toward your own tipping point.

I do think some people get frustrated when they work really hard at that one thing, and they only see marginal gains despite doing everything right.

Here’s my second theory based on the first theory. The gurus out there with the biggest platform have been wildly successful for years, and this actually makes them a bit out of touch with how things really are.

My theory is that they could launch a book to number one in their category by doing none of the advice they give: no ads, no pre-release, no notification of the mailing list, a sloppy and vague product description, a less-than-stellar cover, etc.

They have so many followers that news would spread of their release, and it would make thousands of dollars in the first month and be an Amazon bestseller.

If I’m correct about this, that means they actually have no idea if the advice they’re giving is correct. Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not saying their advice is incorrect (quite the opposite)—but it’s just a fact of their prominence that they can’t know how much of an effect their advice has anymore.

I’m not sure if there’s much of a point to this post. I guess it’s that you shouldn’t put too much stock in any one thing you hear about self-publishing. Success is going to be a slow growth attributed to hundreds of things.

Writing a better product description might get you five more sales. Improving the cover: five more. An experiment with AMS ads: five more. Suddenly, these have added up to enough that you snatch a true fan that leaves a glowing review.

This review converts to twenty more sales, and the new fan starts you one person further along on the next book.

So it’s all interconnected and not traceable to any one thing. After a bunch of books of doing this, you find yourself starting with a hundred fans buying it on launch day getting you to bestseller status and days of free advertising in your genre. These “organic” sales translate to new fans, etc.

That’s the tipping point. It can look like a sudden spike in success, but it’s not the most recent marketing trick you tried. It’s dozens of things synergizing to create the effect.

So, most of all, take everything the gurus say with a grain of salt and don’t be afraid to experiment with your own ideas. What worked for these gurus several years ago may not be working in today’s market or your genre. Or they might. You’ll have to be the judge of that.

On the Accuracy of Memory: or a Nuanced Approach to Current Events


Trigger Warning: Rape is discussed.

Bias disclaimer: I am strongly opposed to Brett Kavanaugh being on the Supreme Court for many reasons, the most obvious being the overwhelming evidence of criminal activity of the current president. Kavanaugh has taken a firm stance that sitting presidents should not be indicted. I’m also a liberal who has never voted for a Republican for any office, no matter how small and local. Etc, etc.

Current event summary: Christine Blasey Ford has accused Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh of attempted rape from 36 years ago at a high school party based on her personal memory of the event.

I didn’t want to weigh in on this, but as someone who has written extensively on math, science, Bayesian statistics, cognitive biases, truth, and knowledge, I just didn’t see any articles out there with nuanced, clear thinking on this issue. So here goes.

The world is not black and white. People think there are only two options when it comes to Ford’s accusation against Kavanaugh.

The first is that it is perfectly understandable why she didn’t come forward until now. She has nothing to gain and everything to lose, so she must be telling the truth. The other is that this is an opportunistic, political move and clearly a false accusation.

The truth almost never falls in such partisan terms.

The human brain, and memory in particular, is a complicated thing. How about we ditch partisan politics for five seconds and try to take a nuanced approached to things?

No one wants to believe their memory is faulty. Memory is basically our whole sense of self. To make an attack on the accuracy of memory feels like an attack on our selves. But it’s not.

Try to distance yourself from this for a bit, and let’s examine what the science says from a cool, rational perspective. If you feel yourself getting angry, take a deep breath, and chant the mantra: nuance, nuance, nuance.

In 1984, Jennifer Thompson-Cannino was raped. She paid careful attention to detail, and had vivid, horrifying memories of the event. Fortunately, she was able to identify the assailant with “100% certainty” only a few days later: Ronald Cotton. He spent 10 years in prison for the crime.

Whew. Thank God for memory.

Except that he was released from prison after 10 years because DNA evidence exonerated him of the crime.

In 1985, a woman was raped and murdered in Beatrice, Nebraska. Six people were found guilty. Ada JoAnn Taylor was one of those people, and she confessed to the crime. She still has “vivid” memories of committing the crime. When something that horrifying happens, you never forget the details.

In 2008, DNA evidence exonerated all of them. Ada did not commit the murder, yet she has clear memory of doing it. If you read that sentence without getting goosebumps, read it again and again and again until you fully grasp the significance of it. She has a vivid memory of committing a murder she didn’t commit.

Most people talk about how vivid and clear the details of where they were when September 11, 2001 happened. It was a traumatic event in most of our lives. How could we ever forget such things?

Fortunately, a collective of memory researchers got right on that. They interviewed thousands of people while the memory was fresh. A mere one year later, they asked people to recall the event. A majority of people had high confidence in their accuracy (how could you ever forget such things?), yet they were totally wrong about things as major and fundamental as people with them and their location. In fact, consistency was only at 63%.

The shifting of details only gets worse over time. One can imagine how much will have changed in 30+ years.

Recollection of these short, traumatic experiences are called flashbulb memories, and decades of research show they have something in common: they are vivid, people have high confidence in their accuracy, and they are wildly inaccurate. In other words, the listed examples above are not isolated outliers; they are the norm.

No matter the trauma of the event, memories are notoriously faulty. Sometimes we mis-remember small details, like who was with us when we found out about the September 11 attacks. Sometimes the event happened, and despite a vivid, clear recollection of the perpetrator, this major detail is false.

Sometimes our brains fabricate entire traumatic events, like when someone truly remembers being abducted and abused by aliens.

In all these cases, the person is telling the truth about their experience. In other words, the person isn’t lying or making it up or intentionally falsely accusing. The experience and memory is real. But, unfortunately, this tells us very little about the accuracy of any of it. This is why this sort of testimony doesn’t stand up in court anymore.

Deep breath: nuance, nuance, nuance.

So where are we now? Vividness of a memory does not make it accurate. Confidence in a memory does not make it accurate. Trauma surrounding a memory does not make it accurate. The more time that passes, the less accurate a memory gets.

These are all scientific facts about the human brain. To deny these facts in the service of politics is as bad as Republicans who deny climate change for political reasons. We have to be honest, not partisan, when it comes to scientific facts of the world, no matter how inconvenient.

And please do not post your own traumatic experiences here. I get it. You remember every detail with high confidence like it was yesterday. You’re sure it’s all accurate, because it has played out in your mind everyday since it happened.

I’m sorry that happened to you.

Deep breath: nuance, nuance, nuance.

What is the nuanced approach to the situation we find ourselves in?

It’s to say to Christine Blasey Ford: I believe you. This event happened. You’re not lying. You’re not making it up for political reasons. The memory of the event is crystal clear, and Kavanaugh was the one doing it. We understand why you didn’t come forward until now.

Unfortunately, in the world we live in, we must take the position that this memory alone is not disqualifying for him, because memories, even major details like the perpetrator of a crime, are often wrong.

I think there are plenty of reasons to not confirm Kavanaugh, but let’s not set this one as the precedent.

Anti-empiricism is never progressive. Denying reality is no way to change reality. -John McWhorter


Additional Reading:

Memory Distortion for Traumatic Events: The Role of Mental Imagery 

Trauma, PTSD, and Memory Distortion

A mega-analysis of memory reports from eight peer-reviewed false memory implantation studies

Notes as of 9/24/2018: I wrote this about a week ago, mostly as a way to vent against the black and white thinking I saw. New information has come to light, like a new accusation against Kavanaugh and a date for Ford to give her testimony.

This post is not meant to weigh all the current and cumulative evidence that can come to light in the coming hours and days.