September 27, 2021
What Is Cargo Cult Writing and Why It’s Damaging
A cargo cult is a belief system in which a group of people – typically indigenous tribes in contact with a technologically advanced culture – perform imitative rituals expecting a deity to offer them, too, the same technology. So far so good. But what about cargo cult writing?
Allow me first to talk a bit more about cargo cults, because the essence is important in understanding what is cargo cult writing and why it’s damaging to you as an author.
As Wikipedia informs us, although the phenomenon is older, it began to be noticeable in Pacific islands after WW2, when isolated cultures came in contact with American and Japanese expeditionary forces that arrived (by air) in great numbers and with advanced logistical support :
After the war, the soldiers departed. Cargo cults arose, attempting to imitate the behaviors of the soldiers, thinking that this would cause the soldiers and their cargo to return. […] Cult behaviors usually involved mimicking the day-to-day activities and dress styles of US soldiers, such as performing parade ground drills with wooden or salvaged rifles. The islanders carved headphones from wood and wore them while sitting in fabricated control towers. They waved the landing signals while standing on the runways. They lit signal fires and torches to light up runways and lighthouses.
The concept of a cargo cult is often used as a metaphor to describe any activity where one imitates something without understanding it, expecting the same result. In some vague sense, it’s a post-hoc fallacy. “I saw a black cat and then I tripped and fell. It’s the black cat’s fault, so I better avoid black cats”.
As for cargo cult writing, you might have already guessed it: It’s when an author imitates what others do without realizing why or how, expecting similar results. Let’s see the various ways this can happen, and how to avoid it.
How Cargo Cult Writing Begins
Writers and artists imitate each other all the time (you can find a delightfully intriguing double meaning in the previous sentence, by the way). That is, every writer – this one included – begins by admiring another writer’s work and imitating it. Nothing wrong with imitating other authors as a beginner writer, and so it’s beyond the scope of this post.
The reason is that it’s not imitation per se that leads us to cargo cult writing. It’s imitation without understanding it, and expecting the same results.
In other words, cargo cult writing means to write a particular way (copying another writer), not really taking the trouble understanding why it was used that way, and expecting success (in whatever form you define it).
Yes, it’s as silly as using coconuts as headsets and expecting a C-47 to parachute canned food.
To emulate another writer means:
- knowing why you admire some other writer’s style.
- understanding that it’s a stepping stone; a training tool.
- knowing it helps you ultimately evolve your own unique voice.
- realizing it won’t bring you the same result (either in terms of sales/marketing or artistry).
On the other hand, authors who fall victim to cargo cult writing follow a trajectory not unlike this:
- They copy a writing style just because others have said it’s “good”.
- Such writers also don’t realize they are emulating, and as a result fail to get the practicing benefit.
- Naturally, this doesn’t allow them to discover what they need to say.
- They expect similar results (and often feel puzzled when these fail to materialize).
Warning Cargo Cult Signs for a Writer
In more practical, specific terms, a writer who’s a victim of cargo cult writing might follow patterns such as the following:
- A “shopping list”, checkbox-style way of writing, paired with adherence to arbitrary rules. This is particularly the case if the rules are put forward by some established writer. To name my favorite example, I don’t care what Stephen King (and countless sources parroting him online) says about adverbs; they’re fine parts of speech, and a real writer has use for them.
- Cargo cult writers work hard, but their efforts are misplaced. A cargo cult writer will rewrite a novel two dozen times. They will subscribe to endless courses promising them the world. They will waste money on marketing and reviews, since they are under the impression “that’s what it takes”.
- A lack of self-reflection in terms of writing identity and priorities. Writers who have inadvertently become cargo cult followers don’t think the meta– aspects of their writing production. In plain terms, cargo cult writing involves wanting to write “just because”, wanting to find a literary agent “because everyone wants that”, and wanting to be traditionally published “because it’s a sign of success” (ask such a writer, what does “success” mean?). There is rarely – if at all – any self-doubt, and there is no questioning of the process.
Escaping the Cargo Cult
Escaping the cargo cult style as a writer isn’t much different from escaping any cult: It requires a bit of luck and someone to show you why you might be misguided. It’s likely also a matter of personality – some people are just more susceptible to cults, and it’s harder for them to escape one.
Cargo cult writing is both about writing and about marketing. As you saw from the elements I listed above, the cult aspects can affect both writing-as-art and writing-as-marketing. In other words, the imitative rituals extend in both directions.
Some writers might display cult behavior in terms of writing (e.g. not using adverbs because Stephen King says so), but they might still ponder on their marketing decisions. I’d consider the opposite unlikely. In other words, I can’t see how an author who’s experienced and confident enough to write independently would fall victim to cult-like behavior in terms of marketing. But hey, anything’s possible.
The Key: Storytelling Is a Solitary Activity
In any case, the key in escaping the cult is realizing something most people seem to ignore: Storytelling is one of the most solitary forms of art out there. Perhaps even the most solitary one.
Though I’m sure you could find exceptions and special cases, arts like music and filmmaking, dancing and drama, require some degree of team work. Often a lot of teamwork. Writing is overwhelmingly more often the result of one person.
This should also underline that writing should be a characteristically multifaceted form of art. To be sure, we follow conventions – either in terms of linguistic or in terms of narrative form – but in writing there is a kind of freedom hard to find in other arts.
So why imitate – non-educationally – others?
Why follow the advice of someone (anyone; even mine!) without first pondering on its applicability to your own special circumstances and priorities?
There is only one gauge of success in writing, and that’s you. You are the sole authority in terms of defining why you write, what you need to do, and how you can tell if you’ve achieved your goal. The less you imitate existing patterns, the easier it will become to reach this enlightenment.
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I was once such a writer. I consumed a lot of creative writing material and tips from writers of all stripes: commercial, canonical, major and minor. None of it has even come close to sitting in front of a text-editing program for thirty minutes and not leaving until that time was up, whether I’ve written anything or not. I always wrote, not always with the best quality, but with so much time spent in the face of a single activity, something ends up coming out of my fingers and onto the page. The only other activities that taught me to write were translating and copying. Translation teaches you to be intimate with the language, to handle all the possibilities, to know how to dance to the music and to be able to listen to many rhythms on the same beat. Copying and distorting the copied text is a little taught but essential way of applying the various possibilities that language offers. The idea is to distort to the point of unrecognisability, that is, until no one can tell what the original text was, not even us, after a while.
You once referred to a concept related to translation, as in translating creatively, effectively rewriting the text, though sadly I don’t recall the term now. Such an activity would be incredibly helpful indeed to teach one about writing. As I point out in the post, there’s nothing wrong with emulating another author – we’ve all done it. It’s fine, as long as we’re aware we’re doing it.
It’s called transcreating, it was coined by Haroldo de Campos, concretist poet, polyglot translator, literary theorist and critic. A related practice I’ve done time and again was to distort a text, be it in my native tongue or upon translating a foreign one, changing it to my taste, to my mood, to the point where the link with the original falls apart, and it effectively turns out as my text. It’s far from imitation, it’s corruption as methodology. Imitation is also essential, I suspect it comes hand in hand with corruption. But what I meant to say and did not, in the first comment, is: nothing beats butt in chair, finger on keyboard. Just f*ck*ng write, goddammit! Really works. Powerful stuff. Daily habit. Simple as that. Showing up every day to do the work and allowing the muse to bless me if she wants to. Or, as I said to my British friend who wants to write a novel so badly but keeps on not writing:
Transcreating, that’s it!
By the way, I can’t tell you how much I’m tickled by the term “corruption-as-methodology”, there’s an ocean of meaning in there…