Yes, That Bear Is Going Through Coke Withdrawal

So I watched Cocaine Bear. I loved it, though more limb-ripping moments could've helped. The more loose arms, the merrier. After watching it, I thought, What the hell did I just watch? and, How'd they come up with a cocaine bear?

The fact is, they didn't. In 1985, a bear named Pablo Eskobear overdosed on coke dropped by a smuggling run and died. The movie adaptation took creative liberties to warp the bear into a murder-machine... but I'd prefer so many other encounters over one with a coked out bear.

I remember Pablo Eskobear often when I'm working on the crazier scenes in my novels. I have to ask myself, Is this believable for my readers? Would this break immersion, or risk being too ridiculous to be enjoyable? It's a unique flavor of self-doubt, where I look at the dull modernity around me and compare it to the thrilling realities I'm crafting. The real world's so boring in comparison that I often soften my writing.

A professor of mine once called this grounding. I don't think they'd survive Cocaine Bear. I've since learned that the real world is as chaotic as we choose to make it. Look at the world around you. Is your 9 to 5 what nature intended? Say you rent an apartment for $1,500 a month. How absurd is that? You live in a space you don't own, paying a stranger with papers we've convinced ourselves holds value—and if you don't pay up in time, the police are gonna come knocking and through you into the streets.

Want a fun project? Research the history land of ownership.

The most psychotic, chaotic, and just downright baffling events don't occur in fiction. The Associated Press has a column dedicated to odd news stories, focused around these odd-ball events. Here's a great headline:

Despite broken car mirrors, Massachusetts residents take woodpecker invasion in stride

Sure, I can spice up this story in a fictional setting where the woodpeckers have gained intelligence and are plotting to peck our brains out, but I don't even need to do this. The intrigue is the absurdity of a woodpecker invasion, just like the battle with a coked up bear.

I turn to these stories when I'm looking for inspiration nowadays—not only these laughable events, but the absurdity of the mundane as well—and it's honed my storytelling skills. No more characters that fall flat, because everyone's a little psycho out there. No more recycled plots or overused settings, because if cocaine bear exists, my evil space circus with a taste for human trafficking can as well.

Even that's not original. Look into 19th century circuses.

Writing the ridiculous means writing the reality of things. Life doesn't have guard rails. If you wanted to give into your impulses, burn all of your money, and eat grass like a cow for the rest of your life...

Daniel 4:33 It happened at once. Nebuchadnezzar was driven out of human company, ate grass like an ox, and was soaked in heaven's dew. His hair grew like the feathers of an eagle and his nails like the claws of a hawk.

Yeah. The Bible's full of WTFs. Giant world-ending flood that defies genetic diversity? Check. Earthquakes caused by the death of a god? People relive that story yearly.

Grounding your story to make it "more real" is only going to make it more unbelievable. I've been toying around with an idea about a government plotting to blot out the sun, rendering oil and natural gas the de facto fuel sources. Sounds ridiculous, right? ... Right?

Write the crazy that you want to write. It'll end up being realer than reality. You may even predict the future. Say hi to George Orwell for me, while you're there.