by SophieMORTIFICATION
I'll just say up front that this theme was my idea. I know it's a little denser than some of the subjects we talk about here, but it's a pervasive theme in my stories, a frequent flyer in the idea department, and I was hoping we could have an all-in discussion about it among my favorite fellow writers.
"Mortification" is the title of one of my favorite short stories that I've written. It is not a perfect story by a long shot - in addition to trying to do too much in too little space, I was a bit heavy handed with the theme.
{Quick sidebar: Thanks to Beat To A Pulp and all the other terrific 'zines keeping short fiction alive on the internet.}
I was trying to juxtapose two kinds of mortification. One was the religious practice of corporal mortification (in this case self-flagellation practiced by some Shi'a muslims) and the other was shame (in this story, a girl who suffers deep humiliation because gives herself away too often and for far too little).It is my belief that much of the physical mortification that girls and women practice on themselves grow directly from shame - and in our society, shame is in ample supply for girls of every class. I circle this idea in everything I write, whether it's my 50-year-old semi-comic heroine in my mystery series, or the 16-year-old adventurer in my young adult series, or the young female addict in my not-yet-sold dystopic fiction.
Women punish themselves relentlessly. Popular fiction addresses this all the time, and appropriately so, I believe.
WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson is a young adult novel that has taken a lot of heat from parents, but is beloved by teen readers; it is an unflinching look at eating disorders. SHARP OBJECTS by Gillian Flynn examines cutting in a young woman who is at the center of a twisted and grievous cast of characters: it is an unforgettable story. I could name many more examples, and so could you.
But mortification does not have to be dramatic to be profound. I have a habit of watching people from the sidelines, being at heart a bit of a tongue-tied observer. I see self-damage done a thousand little ways. I see the sweet teenage girl on the softball team, pushing her stomach in her team pants when no one is looking, willing it to betray her less, hating the unforgiving and unflattering synthetic fabric almost as much as she hates her soft body. I see the women my age at stoplights in the town I live in, squinting into their rear-view mirrors, planning their next botox appointment. I see it starting early: the little girls on BART, trying to be small enough and quiet enough in the shadow of their despondent and overworked mothers, chewing at the flesh of their fingers, chewing it raw.
As I said, I dance around mortification in nearly every book I write. Some day, though, I am going to write a book in which I face it head on, a big book, a brave book. I'm not ready to do it yet, but I'm thinking, thinking, thinking, let it creep up on me. When it does, I'll get to work.
