How Thinking About Wrestling Informs My Fiction Writing

Hello reader! Today I wanted to further explore the links between wrestling and fiction writing. I have done this a little already with the ‘Exploring the history of modern kayfabe through fiction writing’ series, then last week’s column was about writing the action of pro-wrestling. Now, instead of sharing examples from my novel – which, after all, is a novel about pro-wrestling, so the link is obvious – I want to think more generally about how the narrative structures of pro-wrestling, as well as the physical discipline, could inform fiction writing. In particular, I’m thinking about realist fiction.

In the Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms, Chris Baldick defines realism as, “A mode of writing that gives the impression of recording or ‘reflecting’ faithfully an actual way of life”. For example, despite some clear over-the-topness, Gone Girl is a realist novel, and The Housemaid is a realist film. So, it’s not exactly a wild statement to say pro-wrestling is not a ‘realist’ art form. We ordinary folk do not normally settle our everyday feuds with the annoying neighbour via an organised, commoditised representation of violence. In fact, if we were to get into a genuine fight, it wouldn’t be much use to bust out a People’s Elbow. We don’t display our sculpted bodies in Lycra as we stroll down the street to buy milk. Then, in the shop buying this milk, we don’t attempt to rally the other shoppers around us and bark catchphrases at the guy behind the counter. You get the picture! Yet, despite this clear difference, I think there are three main ways pro-wrestling can still inform realist fiction writing.

Faces and heels

Writing realist fiction means thinking hard about characters’ inner selves, about what people do in their private moments. It involves a search for deep meaning in the everyday, the mundane. The writer thinks deeply about the subtle power plays in interpersonal relationships, the gap between what people say and what they do. That’s to say, the best realist fiction offers something more complex than pro-wrestling’s simple morality play. Yet, when writing realist fiction, I still find thinking about faces and heels a useful exercise.

I’m thinking about faces/heels specifically in terms of reader sympathy. In realist fiction, there’s often a protagonist and an antagonist, but their moral positions are not completely stable. As in the real world, both characters may do good things and bad things. This means they’re not completely bad people or completely good people. But the writer’s job is to manipulate the reader’s sympathy – this is the main way I’m considering face/heel dynamics when writing. It doesn’t require a heel turn or face turn to shift positions; it’s more subtle than that. It’s about who I want the reader to be backing at a particular time, and how can I evoke feeling in the reader by compromising a moral position (i.e. turning a face into a heel). Rather than us witnessing a moral turn and booing as we would in pro-wrestling, instead we’ll feel something gentler; we may feel let down as we would in real life, but still hopeful of the character’s moral redemption. And these dynamics, these ups and downs, may be repeated throughout a novel. Together, these may be described more as a clear, cohesive character arc, rather than your confusing 1,001-turns Big Show in WWE.

Friction between reality and fiction

Pro-wrestling, of course, has its own term for this – kayfabe. And, to be fair, in all pro-wrestling’s ‘spectacle of excess’, this friction between reality and fiction can still be quite subtle. A performer can throw an insult at their nemesis, which works on a surface level, but also on a deeper level depending on the crowd’s insider knowledge. Also, as we’ve moved away from traditional kayfabe, pro-wrestling has become increasingly self-referential. That’s to say, by incorporating the ‘business’ of pro-wrestling into storylines – ratings, merch sales, etc. – the structures behind the fiction are laid bare. Same deal for terms such as ‘promo’, ‘mic skills’, ‘work’, and ‘shoot’, which lay bare the actual performance of pro-wrestling. If you’ve read any of my previous work, you’ll know I’ve spent plenty of time thinking through these ‘reality intrusions’ and their effect on fictional narratives.

So how does this thinking inform fiction writing? Well, I could take this down a postmodernist route, where realism is punctured and the writer themselves may even peek out from behind the fourth wall. But I’m thinking more subtly than that. Take, for example, David Peace’s excellent novel GB84, which is about the miners’ strike that occurred in 1980s Great Britain under the Thatcher Government. GB84 is undisputedly fiction, and is sold as such. Peace details shady conversations between parts of the government that, of course, he couldn’t possibly verify. But this is interwoven with real historical events. Even the soccer scores Peace includes are 100% historically accurate. What’s the effect on the fiction? Well, I’d argue the blend of reality and fiction gives the fiction more credibility. The reader still knows it’s fiction, but maybe that slight resistance of giving themselves over to the fiction is lessened. Sound familiar to pro-wrestling?   

Discipline

Finally – and this one’s more practice-based than narrative-based – there’s the parallel between writing and sport in terms of discipline. Both, when you’re starting out at least, require self-discipline to build skill to a level where payment might be possible. That means making the time to practise consistently, being strict about the quality of practice, and being willing to showcase your skills to others in order to then receive feedback to improve. Writing requires reps and muscle memory the same way sporting practice does. Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000-hour rule applies to both disciplines. I’m going to leave this one for now, as the crossover between sporting and writing discipline is super-interesting to me, and I hope to do a longer piece on it in the future.

I hope this was helpful/interesting. Consider this my initial thoughts on how thinking about wrestling can inform fiction writing. I’m sure I’ll be adding to this as I get even deeper into my PhD project. And if you think of any more parallels in the meantime, please let me know. Thank you for reading!