No matter how much you think you’re original, you’re not. Nothing exists in a vacuum and all media informs another aspect. It’s true that some are more creative than others, but even to go back to the greatest work in human existence is to see something that was based on something else. For instance, Homer’s “The Odyssey” is an elaborate hero’s journey set in the world of Greek mythology that informed other similar tales, just not as epic. Similarly, William Shakespeare was tackling social issues through his comedy and drama, using figures like kings to comment on the human condition.
No matter where you go, every story has a story behind it. That is the inescapable truth of humanity. We’re just incapable of not being inspired by something else. At this point, we’ve had 21 centuries (plus a whole ton of B.C.) to evolve into something more complex. Our ideas have expanded to include a nuance that is both profound and ambiguous. Even then, those willing to do a genealogy tree will see that there’s eventually a connection between E.L. James “Fifty Shades of Grey” and Miguel De Cervantes’ “Don Quixote.” They may not seem like it, but there’s a small thread where everything is connected.
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| That's probably an allegory for windmills |
I say all of this because there is one common misconception: references are lazy. At its core, our life is a reference and even the most personal story needs these details to make them stand out. Maybe this doesn’t involve saying that you were watching Tiger King or buying food off of Grub Hub. It could just be that you were watching TV and ordering food online to kill an afternoon.
But to me, a vague story is not interesting. It’s a starting point, but I want to have a better understanding of the world that you lived in. If you’re not going to tell me what you’re watching, then explore why you’re watching it, or what lead you to this moment. Present details that give the story life and purpose. Something as simple as hanging around the house could be made eventful in the right hands. Take this uneventful scene to explore something crucial to character, which could be done to advance the story. Create an atmosphere. If you unload information without the audience feeling overwhelmed, then you’re doing a great job.
Here is a rule of thumb that I personally believe: Write narrow and attract a wide audience, or write wide and attract a narrow audience.
To me, there is something crucial about making a story feel intimate like you’re dropping in on a moment in somebody’s life. Don’t write about a giant global scale phenomenon from the outside. If you want to do that, pick targets that help you to emphasize a point better. This could be exploring the quarantine from the perspective of a political figure, a single mother, or even a grocery store worker. You may not get to be as expansive as you want, but you will be able to get a perspective that adds weight to the experience. The closer you are to a singular story, the easier it is to create an emotional experience that is rewarding to the audience.
Which brings me to my point: references are not lazy. The reason that they are seen as such is because of how they have become shorthand currency for circumstances. I have had endless nights where I have hopped on Twitter only to find that I missed something perceived as big. There’s a whole new language formed due to the latest controversy. I have to do research just to know what is going on, or just accept that I’ll never be up to date.
That is how the worst of references are seen to audiences further down the line. This is especially true of pop culture nods that exist more to appeal to the moment than create any lasting entertainment. If your point is to appeal to an audience existing in the here and now with no care of the future, then that’s fine. I am not above topical humor, though do know that you’re likely going to not have a long shelf life. That is why most people are more likely to recall references that are a few years old in their work, as it allows for some settling of the dust to see what will resonate.
In order for a reference to be crucial, there is one thing that needs to be done. It needs to exist as a character trait. When looking through the annals of history, it’s easy to see why the references that stick with us are largely tied to big moments in history. Leo Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” is a quasi-history epic that uses major wars to discuss the basic functions of humanity. Despite now the majority of his readers not having lived during the 19th-century battles, we can relate to the story because it’s not about how the canons shot through the air. It’s about the horrifying exhilaration that comes with being stuck in a daunting situation. War just happens to be an extreme example because there is no easy way out. Well, there is, but it comes with a painful toll on your morality.
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| The Great Gatsby (2012) |
Similarly, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” is often considered The Great American Novel™. This decade will see the novel approaching a century since its publication and with that likely a reassessment as to whether that title still holds. What makes it great is largely Fitzgerald’s ability to cram so much detail into a single word that you understand the economy of writing.
Even then, one has to wonder what The Jazz Age has to say about generations to follow. After all, few of us actually know what a flapper does or why cars seemed to be so important. However, there is something to protagonist Nick viewing this world from the ground floor of Jay Gatsby’s latest party that says something more about the soulless nature of excess and nostalgia. This isn’t solely a comment on the flapper culture that was obsessed with partying and having a good time, but what happens when the moment passes and we’re left with this hangover of emptiness, that life lacks a deeper meaning. The novel’s timelessness comes from its ability to create a cautionary tale about luxury. Even if Nick goes on at length about Gatsby’s cars, it doesn’t matter if you personally can picture them. It’s the details that express how Nick sees this amazing amount of wealth.
Basically, if you’re going to reference something you must ask yourself if it makes sense as a character trait. If you removed the real-life context of its meaning, do you still have an understanding of its value in the character’s story? The best of references don’t exist as crutches but as an enhancement.
I suppose the hardest one to look at is when addressing media specifically. No matter where you go, there’s going to be a limitation as to how well the audience knows something. If you go back to E.L. Doctorow’s “Ragtime,” they likely will be confused. Who is Scott Joplin and why does it matter that we play ragtime correctly? However, within the quote, we get a better sense of how Doctorow sees history. He wants to present it correctly, and that means adjusting some misconceptions that are implied by the Joplin quote. Most of all, we must take our time.
While I think that the best of stories can use this on a subtle level, I am a fan of a good novel that can use these details to create a better sense of a moment. Let’s face it, the 20th century America has become a largely corporate era where we’ve become more reliant on brands to fulfill aspects of our lives. It would be wrong to ignore the fact that we watch movies and quote them. While I ask you to take consideration regarding legal copyright, using references can help to inform something personal. Basically, something as simple as wearing a Jaws (1975) shirt can give a deeper sense of meaning. Even if you didn’t see Jaws, a movie t-shirt has this way of defining the character like saying that the shirt was red or collared. Similarly, a reliance on a quote shows how media has informed one’s life and can give in-the-margin context for what the character does when he’s not in our lives.
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| The Stepford Wives (1975) |
If you had to ask me what novel has the best example of pop culture references as a narrative device, I will ask that you all turn to Ira Levin’s masterpiece “The Stepford Wives.” By coincidence, the novel created its own pop culture reference in the eponymous term for a woman who is too loyal to the patriarchy. It is a shorthand that people can use and not even know that it came from a novel (though it may need to be explained now that the vernacular has changed again).
On the surface, it’s one of the most dated books you’ll ever read. It clearly exists as a book so rooted in a moment that you may as well frame it in a museum. It was released in 1972, near the end of The Richard M. Nixon Administration. Most of us only really know Nixon for Watergate and botching the Vietnam War at this point, but “The Stepford Wives” is more caught up in a parallel event: the second wave of feminism. As the recent Hulu series Mrs. America will remind us, we were gearing up for a fight for the Equal Rights Amendment (E.R.A.) and the very idea of what it meant to be a woman in America was changing – though not without backlash.
I won’t go further, though Mrs. America is an entertaining use of your time if you want more. The gist is that protagonist Joanna moves into the suburbs with her husband in a town called Stepford. Everyone there is too nice, though that’s because they’ve been brainwashed. It becomes a horror story about trying to brainwash Joanna. It’s an uphill battle because her status as a journalist and activist makes her seem rational by comparison and drops us into this squeaky clean world, representing the more regressive features of the conservative culture.
On the surface, this would be a fine way to read “The Stepford Wives.” However, that is to ignore what made 1972 a crucial moment. The novel couldn’t exist at any other time because there was still uncertainty that E.R.A. would pass, and animosity was in the air. But why does this all matter? It’s all too ambiguous to be more than a declarative statement. What Levin does is drop so much detail relevant to the feminism of the time that it feels like advertisements within the story. There’s the consumerism culture pushing against the story to suggest how these ideas are all fighting for our attention, making some seem more tempting than others. Among them is Joanna’s own identity as a feminist, trying to not get buried underneath a culture that only wants to drown her out in every conceivable way.
That is a broad understanding of the text, but I assure you that looking through the references you’ll see what I mean. Every page is chock full of era-specific products that inform how women were seen in 1972, and how any hopes of being taken seriously were attempted to be quashed. Do you have to understand the leader of the men’s club was working at Disney to appreciate the central narrative? Not entirely. Sure it gives another sense of corporate control, but we can understand “The Stepford Wives” without getting lost in not understanding what the morning after pill is.
With that said, I love references that don’t take away from the story but become profound if you understand them on a deeper level. For me, that is how I personally use media to explore its connection to our human desires. If I quote a song, I try to make the feeling linger more than the lyrics, where a turn of phrase makes us weep or feel like dancing. Otherwise, it’s just a person expressing their human desires. A good reference is one that is transparent, both existing as something simple to the narrative (like time or place) or even more complex when you stop and think about it. After all, T.S. Eliot made a whole career out of this with “The Love Story of J. Alfred Prufrock” and “The Waste Land,” and I’d argue that his work is essential even if it’s inscrutable to general audiences.
After all, everything is referencing something else whether it’s basic emotion or something marked as significant by the author. These details aren’t meaningless, though how we use them can be. If the reader becomes distracted by details that aren’t present, then it’s bad. However, a good one can grow with further understanding. Once you realize that Homer’s “The Odyssey” was an early form of fan fiction, you begin to understand that writing isn’t meant to make reality into a fantasy where everything is a vague allegory. Sometimes it’s best to just go for the obvious reference and hope that it lands. If you do it right, it will recall something about the characters so perfectly that your reader will think about it long after they’ve passed the sentence up. Good luck with that.
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