On Snark and Self-Deprecation: Or Why the Pie Needs to Be On Your Own Face, First
by nicolepeeler on Aug.17, 2010, under Nicole Peeler and Jaye Wells, Orbit Books
Like Jaye Wells, I seem to have become someone “known” for snark. And so, because we’re friends and because we like to hear our own voices, Jaye and I’ve had a few conversations (all of them snarky, por su puesto) in which we’ve attempted to define snark. During such sessions we’ve been drinking, but that has less to do with snark and more to do with wetting our whistles (or whetting our whistles into shivs, as the case may be).
And yet, despite our mutual identities as mistresses du snark, Jaye and I write very different books. Our covers say it all: the imposing figure of Jaye’s vampire/mage assassin, clad in leather, introduces the world to Sabina’s patented “fuck you” stare. Meanwhile, my Jane peers, naked and vulnerable, from her liminal position: halfway between earth and sea, halfway between human and paranormal. My books feel lighter than Jaye’s in tone, our heroine’s are totally different, but both Jaye and I are shelved under “snark” as much as we are “urban fantasy.”
So what is it about snark that makes this possible?
I would argue that the thing that makes our books similar, and that makes the two of us friends, is the same thing that differentiates “snarky” from “being an asshole”: the art of self-deprecation.
Jaye hit on the idea that snark is often a defensive weapon, honed by those of us who always knew we were a little…different. For me, I realized very early that I was never going to be the “pretty girl”: the head cheerleader or the homecoming queen. With that revelation, I figured I had three choices: get angry about that fact (and be an asshole), try to attempt a pale imitation of that identity (and be pathetic), or I could become popular in my own way by making fun of myself. By outlining in painstaking, humiliating, and hilarious detail exactly why I could never be the cheerleader (legs like drumsticks!), I not only got people laughing, but I could also then evolve that mockery into something more: for example, subverting the superficial ideas of “identity” we so often clung to in high school.
In other words, I figured out that if I made fun of myself, first, and got everyone laughing…I could make fun of anything.
It was an epiphany. I stopped being the shy, too-smart girl with her nose always buried in a book, and instead developed a persona who loved working a room. By admitting my weaknesses, I introduced people to my strengths and, more importantly, I got my audience rooting for me.
I didn’t invent this strategy, of course, and it was used most famously by Cyrano de Bergerac, in Rostand’s play of the same name. When The Vicsount makes fun of Cyrano’s nose by calling it, “very big,” Cyrano responds, “Is that all?…You might have said at least a hundred things,” before continuing to list over twenty ways to make fun of his own nose.
Meanwhile, as Cyrano constantly suggests, the art of self-deprecation is exactly that: an art. Too much, and it sounds like you’re looking to host a pity party. Too little, and you risk sounding glib (Tom Cruise!).
Granted, such self-deprecation is, as Jaye points out, a defense mechanism. But it’s a subtle, much nuanced self-defense mechanism that shouldn’t be underestimated. I would even argue that snark implies as much strength as it does vulnerability. Indeed, the “just right” amount of self-deprecation says the following: I can take it on the chin; I came by my right to the funny the hard way; and I know who I am, drumstick legs and all.
I’ve got the same questions Jaye had, as this post is more an addendum to her post than a challenge. How do you define snark? How does a character being snarky change that character, for you? Is it a strength? Or the unwitting display of a whole backlog of personality issues?
Related posts:
- Jane True: Nobody’s Straight Man When Jaye ended her last post by asking me, “What’s so funny about writing the every woman?” the answer to me was obvious: I get to write about real life! Real life is ridiculous. Humanity is ridiculous. Sex is ridiculous. Eating is ridiculous. Society is ridiculous. I could go on and...
- Hello and Goodbye I have really enjoyed reading what Marjorie & Kelley have had to say about comics, writing, and climbing over (or pushing through) writer’s block, but it is once again time to pass the torch. Anything you want to add, Marjorie or Kelley, before we hand things over to . ....
- On Writing a Greedy Heroine Jaye and I’ve been going back and forth about humor, heroism, vulnerability, et cetera, and I really couldn’t think of anything to add, especially after Jaye’s great latest post. To be honest, I was a bit stuck. Then I went back to square one, and began thinking about what else...
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August 18th, 2010 on 4:14 pm[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Orbit Books, Nicole Peeler, Zack , Melissa, Terry and others. Terry said: On Snark and Self-Deprecation: Or Why the Pie Needs to Be On Your Own Face, First: Like Jaye Wells, I seem to have… http://bit.ly/djydBa [...]
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August 17th, 2010 on 10:07 pm
I guess I never thought of it that way before. You’ve really given me a lot to think about. I’ve never analyzed why I love snark… As far as characters in books– I think of it as a strength. To me, the ability to laugh at life, at each other, is what keeps us sane. When we take ourselves too seriously things go badly. Does snark cover up personality flaws? Maybe. Probably. Those who hate snark probably think those of us who use it are disturbed and inappropriate. Oh well:)
August 18th, 2010 on 9:16 am
But it’s amazing how many people aren’t able to laugh at themselves, isn’t it!
And there are definitely those who hate snark (and Jane). I genuinely feel it’s a conflict of worldview…those who can make fun of themselves v. those who can’t. I get nervous when people take themselves too seriously, but I’ve seen people get equally nervous when I poke fun at myself.
August 18th, 2010 on 9:43 am
Hmmm, this is really a great debate to get into. I think snark can go either way, being where it started from. But then it grows to be more one than the other. Snark may start as a defense but I can see it becoming a strength. Something that can help keep you strong and going. Snark is a way to make great friends as well. Making people laugh and about anything is something more people need to do. I have seen so many serious people anymore, they are even wearing off on me (and I don’t like that!). Great debate, and add some mixed drinks… lol. That could be wild.
August 18th, 2010 on 9:58 am
I lost track of what I was going to say - Sorry!
I think snark is a strength as it shows a part of a personality that is needed today. Someone who lightens the mood of a serious time. But as well that this is a strong personality trait to not let people get to you. If you can snark it off instead of getting really POed then you are better at handling and dealing with crap. It is a strength.
August 18th, 2010 on 1:05 pm
I started being snarky as a defense mechanism. I was telling my peers that they really couldn’t make fun of me because I already acknowledged and embraced my perceived weaknesses - namely total lack of athleticism, short stature, and fondness for fantasy novels. It became a lot less fun for them to poke fun if I was already doing it for them.
My snark eventually evolved into something I think of as a strength. It’s still a defense mechanism in a lot of ways - it’s what I use to play politics when necessary - but it’s also my default sense of humor and also one of my defining characteristics.
I’ve found that I like to laugh at myself. I just can’t take myself too seriously. Where’s the fun in that?
August 18th, 2010 on 1:44 pm
Melissa: I’m glad you got excited about the topic! And I think you’re right about their being sort of two strains in popular American culture: One that takes itself SO Very Seriously, and then the one that is absolutely self-deprecating. It’s like the Glenn Beck v. Judd Apatow strains of American society.
Terry: I think what you’re suggesting is that while snark might begin to develop as a form of self-defense, it can evolve into a kind of self-love. By acknowledging what we think of as our weaknesses, we can learn to love them. For example: My legs might be drumsticks, but my thighs are like soft, floooooofy pillows. And who doesn’t love a flooooofy pillow?
August 19th, 2010 on 1:09 pm
What happens when self-deprecation sideswipes snark and moves right into pathetic territory?
I’ve always been of the “make fun of myself before you can make fun of me” persuasion, but I’m not sure when it goes too far.
There’s a fine line between snark, being a jerk, and being pathetic, and I’m not quite sure how to keep myself on the snark line. Does that mean I’m a pathetic, snarky jerk?
August 20th, 2010 on 9:32 am
Dane: We’ve actually talked a lot about what makes for snark v. “being a jerk” or “being pathetic.” The short answer is: Love.
If you make fun of something because you think it’s lame, you’re just making fun of something.
If you’re pointing out weaknesses or vulnerabilities in something you absolutely adore, but in a funny way that’s actually more about touching on the object and showing your affection than it is about cutting it down, THAT’S snark.
For a theoretical example, think in terms of the old adage about “I can make fun of my family, but no on else can.” Think through what that means: it means, “I’m doing it because I know them and love them, partially BECAUSE I know they’re so fucking crazy.” When you make fun of something from a position of affection, it has an entirely different tone.
For a concrete example, I’m going to use our fellow writer Mark Henry as our snark example. He’s always snark-tweeting about things like Toddlers and Tiaras. No, he doesn’t love baby beauty pageants. But he DOES love popular culture and dissecting it. And that comes out in all his tweets. The Tor editor Heather Osborn, who also tweets with Mark, does the same thing. You can tell they’re both so intellectually engaged with what’s going on that they’re snark tweets are as much an homage to pop culture as they are horror-stricken reaction to child beauty queens.
So yeah, what I’m also saying (as you’ve probably figured out) is that you have to love yourself for true, snarky self-deprecation to work. If you just think you’re worthless and useless, you’re just going to be playing your tiny, tiny violin to an uncaring world. But if you like yourself so much that you realize you have a lot of worth outside of (and maybe sometimes because of) your chubby, chubby thighs (ahem), then you can truly snark yourself.
Eeep, that was a post in itself!
October 9th, 2011 on 9:11 pm
hey, chief blog on blubbery loss. the like helped.