Fifty Shades of Grey, Ready Player One… these stories are pretty bad, but they’re popular.
Why? What can we learn from them?
Let’s discuss then try writing our own bad-but-popular story together!
During the last stream, a subscribers requested that we go over what we can learn from popular bad stories.
Watch a shortened version of the stream here or scroll down for what we did.
What We Can Learn from Popular “Bad” Stories
- It’s easy to dismiss certain popular books/movies/shows as simply “bad,” and that people only like them because they’re stupid and don’t know any better
- But that’s a pretty ignorant take. People like things for a reason, and as writers we can learn a lot about what kinds of stories resonate with people by examining popular stories
- So let’s take a look at four popular stories that are generally considered “bad” and see what we can learn from them, to apply in our own stories that we create!
Disclaimer: If you like any of these stories, that’s awesome! I even like one of them. The point isn’t to make anyone feel bad about liking things or to make fun of the stories, the point is to analyze what makes them popular, despite some shortcomings.
#1. Fifty Shades of Grey
What’s It About?
Anna, a plain college girl, has an adonis billionaire named Christian Grey fall in love with her. But he’s into BDSM, and she’s an oh-so-inexperienced young woman.
Why Is It Bad?
The main character is bland/boring, the plot is slow/meandering, the conflict is mostly nonexistent, and the writing consists of a lot of telling, such as, when Anna is describing her friend:
“She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful — and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.” (pg. 4)
Or when describing Christian:
“He really is very, very good looking.” (pg 16)
These are literally textbook examples of how to not write a story. It’s expository and generic, instead of natural and specific.
But It Was Popular! So What Can We Learn?
- Wish fulfillment is a helluva drug. Even if you’re as plain and boring as Anna, a billionaire Greek God may still come to sweep you off your feet.
- Taboos get people excited. Just regular sexy times between Anna/Grey? Boring. Slightly taboo BDSM? Now that’s exciting!
#2. Ready Player One
What’s It About?
In the future, a billionaire left his fortune inside an Easter Egg hidden in a massive VR world after he died, with clues based on 80s pop culture. Wade, a teenage boy, finds the first clue.
Why Is It Bad?
A lot of the time, the book reads like a list of random 80s pop culture references in bad fanfiction, rather than an actual story:
Here’s a section from partway into the story, when Wade goes to a party celebrating him and some others finding the clue:
“I made a big entrance when I arrived in my flying DeLorean, which I’d obtained by completing a Back to the Future quest on the planet Zemeckis. The DeLorean came outfitted with a (nonfunctioning) flux capacitor, but I’d made several additions to its equipment and appearance. First, I’d installed an artificially intelligent onboard computer named KITT (purchased in an online auction) into the dashboard, along with a matching red Knight Rider scanner just above the DeLorean’s grill. Then I’d outfitted the car with an oscillation overthruster, a device that allowed it to travel through solid matter. Finally, to complete my ‘80s super-vehicle theme, I’d slapped a Ghostbusters logo on each of the DeLorean’s gullwing doors, then added personalized plates that read ECTO-88.” (pg. 182)
The story’s arc is also confusing. The main characters obtain the Easter egg and eventually the billionaire’s inheritance by devoting their lives to memorizing 80s pop culture trivia.
The message of the story isn’t “friends are more important than money” or “the dangers of living outside reality,” it’s just “if you do the weird things that an eccentric billionaire tells you to do, you’ll be rewarded in the end.”
But It Was Popular! So What Can We Learn?
- Nostalgia is a helluva drug. People get a kick out of seeing things they grew up with in new ways. Remember, the Lion King CGI remake made 1.6 billion dollars.
- Treasure hunts get people excited. It’s a simple, effective formula: a big prize at the end, a few smaller ones along the way, and the main character happens to find the first one.
#3. Sword Art Online
What’s It About?
Japanese teenager Kirito gets trapped inside a MMORPG where game over means death for the player. The only way to escape alive is to clear all 100 floors inside the virtual world.
Why Is it Bad?
The main character Kirito is incredibly overpowered, never loses, and always has a come-from-behind victory by pulling some sort of new skill out of nowhere at the last moment.
The show also destroys its own stakes by having characters die, but then revived afterward, negating the interesting premise of if you die in the game you die in real life.
There’s also an excessive amount of sexual violence, every woman Kirito meets falling in love with him, and the story never quite fulfills its premise of an MMORPG world.
But It Was Popular! So What Can We Learn?
- Escapism is a helluva drug. Many people are unhappy with their lives and would do anything to escape to another life or world, even if it’s violent — or especially if it’s violent.
- Simple, juicy premises are exciting. The idea of a video game you can actually die in is intriguing. Even if the story becomes more of a harem anime later, the viewer is already sucked in.
#4. Twilight
What’s It About?
Teenage girl Bella moves to a new town, where she becomes enamored with the mysterious Edward Cullen. Eventually she finds out he’s a vampire and has a crush on her too.
Why Is It Bad?
The opening paragraph sums up the writing nicely:
“My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.” (pg. 1)
It’s just boring. It’s slow and there are so many unnecessary, unemotional details that it’s a slog to read.
Then there’s the actual story. More than half the book is just Bella discovering the vampire mystery of the Cullens, which the reader likely already knows, so it’s not super compelling.
Then there’s the fact that everyone loves Bella despite her being completely mayonnaise, her manipulative relationship with Edward framed as a good thing, and the fact that the vampires have no traditional weaknesses (sunlight, holy water, garlic, etc.)
But It Was Popular! So What Can We Learn?
Twilight has everything, all of the previous elements:
- Wish fulfillment — Even if you’re plain and boring like Bella, maybe a handsome vampire will still like you
- Taboos — Human and vampire relationship
- Nostalgia — Taking the vampire trope people are familiar with and twisting it in a new way
- Treasure hunt — Bella putting together the clues to discover what the Cullens really are
- Escapism — Bella gets to escape her boring, normal life by being with the vampire Cullens, and we get to go with her
- Simple, juicy premise — Is there any simpler, juicier premise than a human/vampire romance story?
Looking at it this way, it would be surprising if Twilight wasn’t extremely popular!
After that, chat voted on this prompt that uses some of those six elements for us to write together: An alien prince arrives on earth, and he’s looking for a spouse (Cinderella-like story).
We’ve got a taboo human/alien relationship, nostalgia for sci-fi movies, wish fulfillment, and a simple/juicy premise. Here’s what we came up with:
When the aliens arrived, it was much more of an Arrival situation than Independence Day. No laser beams or explosions, just a few massive spaceships hovering menacingly over cities all around the world in complete silence.
Then came the message. The message that changed the world.
“Attention, Earthpeople! Our prince is looking for a spouse. We will hold a ball tonight for all eligible bachelorettes, and he will marry the one who can find his heart. End message!”
Illustrations by cozyrogers
Suddenly the aliens went from the ominous, silent ships of Childhood’s End, to broadcasting messages like To Serve Man. Only instead of wanting to cook us, they wanted to marry us — one of us, anyway. I knew it had to be me.
Unfortunately, at that moment my dad barged into my room. He threw open the door with such force that he knocked down my War of the Worlds poster and sent my precious tower of VHS sci-fi tapes wobbling precariously. I leaned over in time to stop them from crashing, just as Dad started shouting.
“I heard what them illegal aliens said. Don’t you get any ideas in your head of going to that ball!”
“But Dad!” I cry. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
It’s true. Even at eighteen years old, I’d never so much as been on a date before. There was just something about Earth boys, and girls for that matter, that didn’t do it for me. I craved something more exotic, more unique. I’d take E.T.’s brown, wrinkled body over a track star any day.
Dad thrust his finger in my face. “No daughter of mine is locking lips with any aliens on my watch.”
“He probably does’t even have lips, Dad,” I protest. “He’s probably not even a he in the way we think about it!”
“All the more reason for you not to go,” he says. “And that’s final.”
There was nothing I could do. Dad guarded the only exit out of the house, sitting in his chair and watching Nascar as I stayed imprisoned in my room.
If I’m being honest, even if Dad let me go, there wasn’t much I could do about it. The nearest ship was 100 miles away over Seattle’s Space Needle. I’d never get there in time.
So I did what I could. What I usually did on my Friday nights alone. I pretended.
I put on my favorite dress, one of the few that I had. When I saw it at a convention I just had to buy it. Instead of flowers or kittens like other girls, this one was covered in sweet alien prints. There were all the classics, the big-head aliens from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the outside-brain-dudes from Mars Attacks, to the more inhuman — and inhumanly attractive — Vogons from Hitchhikers Guide.
With the final touch, a Starfleet insignia button on my chest, I looked at myself in the mirror. Yikes. It’s a good thing I wasn’t going, after all. Even my reflection didn’t look pleased to see me, with my pale skin and hair the color of horse hay. There’s no way any alien prince would ever look into my plain gray, bespectacled eyes and feel the spark of love, much less find his heart.
A weird feeling spread through me. I nearly shrieked when I saw my reflection slowly fizzling away. But it wasn’t just my reflection, looking down, it was me!
In a flash, my room disappeared, then suddenly I was somewhere else. A big circular room with metal flooring, and windows running along the entire wall, peering out to the city of Seattle beneath us.
And I wasn’t alone. All around me, hundreds of girls my age, dressed in everything from casual clothes to fancy gowns to even a few caught wrapped in shower towels, were standing around, just as confused as I was.
“Attention, ladies!” came a voice. “You have been selected as the bachelorettes with optimal compatibility for our prince. You will be called up one by one. Please behold him in all his glory now!”
The ball. Oh my god. I’d been transported here, along with all these other girls. But… I had no chance of competing with them. Just looking around, the others were so much taller, and prettier, and were beaming with gorgeous smiles. Me though, even though this was what I’d always dreamed of, I couldn’t even bring myself to stop panting while slouching over. I was a mess.
A hole in the ceiling opened, and a metal platform hovered down, bringing the prince into sight. Some of the girls screamed, some of them fainted, but to my credit, the only thing I felt when I saw him was an intense surge of butterflies, flapping through me for the first time in my life.
So this is what it feels like.
The prince’s leathery skin folded in on itself, undulating with the gooey, smooth muscles that pulsated beneath. Tentacles unfurled from beneath his body, supporting him like the roots of a magnificent tree. The jiggling contractions of his central nodule perfumed the air with the scent of tuna cooking on fresh asphalt. He was perfect. He looked like a prune.
“Amber Anderson,” announced a voice. “You may approach the prince.”
One of the girls, dressed in an elegant evening gown, with her hair swirled beautifully atop her head, approached the prince. She clacked her way up to him in her high heels, gave a curtsey, and spoke.
“My prince! I offer you my eternal love. I hope that it will be enough to find your heart.”
The prince didn’t say anything. He gurgled, flashed a grayish color, then the speaker came on again.
“You may leave,” the voice said. “Next up, Heather Bergeson. You may approach the prince.”
It went on like that, one girl at a time approaching him, and each time he gurgled and flashed gray, rejecting her. Some girls confessed their love to him, some of them offered him presents or did impressive gymnastic tricks, some of them whimpered and cried, but none of them seemed to have what the prince was looking for.
“Jane Williams,” the voice said, calling my name. I was one of the only ones left. “You may approach the prince.
I slowly stumbled my way up to the platform. So many other gorgeous and talented girls had been rejected, what chance did I possibly have?
Standing before the prince was a completely different experience. His pruny body rippled with a suction sound, adding an aroma of turpentine to his olfactory concerto. Seeing him up close, there was also something I didn’t notice before — a slit opening between some of his wrinkles.
My years of sci-fi watching meant I knew what to do. It was time to take the plunge.
I shoved my hand into the slit, nearly gasping with how warm and wonderful it felt inside. Like feeling around in a bowl of Jello-O made from bathwater, with chunks of raw chicken floating around my fingers. The quivering grip of his slit around my arm was more comfortable than any human embrace could ever be.
I grabbed onto the first smooth blob I could find, and pulled with all my might. It came out of the prince along with my hand, now soaked in grayish ooze. My fingers were wrapped around a pulsing glob, tethered back inside him with veiny entrails. Not once did I think of any of it as gross. It was beautiful. It was where my hand had always meant to be.
Wrapped around the prince’s heart.
“Jane Williams,” came the voice again. “You have successfully found my heart. How did you do it?”
Now that I knew the voice was the prince’s, speaking came easily.
“In all the good alien movies, the aliens show romantic interest in ways we think are weird,” I tell him. “The Thing, Alien, they’re scary to most people, but not to me. I’ve never wanted anything more than to have an alien fetus burst out of me.”
“So then I must ask you a question,” the prince said, his body now throbbing with excitement and flashing ultraviolet all over. “May I have your hand in marriage?”
“Of course, I said.
Between my fingers, the prince’s heart opened its thousand-toothed mouth, and devoured my hand in a single bite.
As it turned out, no alien fetuses needed to burst out of me, just my hand was enough to supply the prince with the DNA he needed to pop out five beautiful eggs. But of course a hand isn’t enough to supply love, and that, I gave him — and our children — plenty of.
Even Dad has come around on our relationship. The first time he bounced one of his grandchildren on his leg, and little Ulxta’s tentacles dribbled goo all over his pants, he laughed and slapped his knee.
“They say ya can’t buy happiness,” he said, “but you managed to do it, Jane. And it didn’t even cost ya an arm and a leg, only a hand!”
I laughed and gave him a loving punch with my stub.
Or, an alternative ending, illustrated by cozyrogers!
Be sure to check out the video for a dramatic reading.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Top images: Flickr/Mike Mozart, Flickr/lee leblanc