Exploring Personality: Part One -- "Who Am I?"

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."

Oscar Wilde

The search for self is central to the human condition. Selfhood is our first great struggle in life. Differentiation. "Who am I?" "Why am I?" I am not just an extension of my mother and/or my father. Okay, well, after potty training, the struggle to establish an independent identity, to become "me," is our first great obstacle in life. Some people, perhaps most people, as Oscar Wilde says, never become "I;" they remain, in some form or another, "we" and "us."

Actually, that's a true thing that most people never really become themselves, but we'll get to that and the research around it later in this series. However, it is that thing, that thing where people are mostly other people that has always struck me about the Bible's use of the term "sheep" in its description of humanity. But I digress...

The issue for writers in all of this is not that most people are other people, it's that most characters are other people, namely the writers. Mostly, the characters that writers write are just... themselves. This becomes especially true of first person. No matter what you say or how much you protest, it just lends itself to it. This is why most first person narratives sound so much the same, they are characters that are extensions of the authors who are like most other people.

But it's not exactly fair to pick on first person exclusively as there are plenty of third person stories with completely bland and same characters. For instance, all of the characters in Madeleine L'Engle's Time books act identically virtually all of the time. The only real difference is Meg's insecurity about how she looks, etc, and that is only in A Wrinkle in Time. After that book, she falls into pattern with everyone else and their completely rational way of speaking. If you remove the speech tags from their dialogue, there would be almost no way to tell the characters apart. [Yes, I'm picking on L'Engle because I'm waist deep in her series, right now, but I could give plenty of other examples.]

The thing that makes books great is great characters. Characters that are completely themselves. Characters about whom you cannot say, "Well, this character is just like this other character." Great characters can make a weak plot shine. In fact, David Eddings, in The Belgariad, purposefully uses the most cliche fantasy plot arc possible, but his characters are extraordinary, which makes the series one of the best fantasy yarns I've ever read. Each character was an individual with its own quirks. However, in his later writing, all of his characters merged into just one character with different names, so much so that it didn't matter what name you attached to any given piece of dialogue. All of the characters were busy being the "clever one."

When I think of books I've really enjoyed, it very often focuses on having enjoyed specific characters. Like Tom Sawyer. The book is nothing without the character of Tom, possibly the greatest conman character ever created. Tom gets himself into trouble. A lot. And so does Huck, but Huck and Tom get into different kinds of trouble, because they are not the same at all. It is that they are different that makes them stand out as great characters in American literature.

It's also the draw in the Harry Potter books. You don't just have Harry and different shades of Harry. If you take out the dialogue tags, you can still tell when Hermione is speaking as opposed to Harry or Ron. Or, even, Luna or Neville. Each of Rowling's characters is its own person.

Having written a book with multiple first person perspectives, I do have some experience with this. As I've mentioned on my own blog (StrangePegs), the book The Pigman by Paul Zindel was a big part of the inspiration for the format I chose. At the time, it was the only multiple first person book I knew of (who knew it would become a "thing"?), and I wanted to experiment with that. In Zindel's book, each chapter starts with the writer of that chapter saying something like, "Hey, this is Lorraine," or, "It's John, now." It was necessary, too, because, mostly, if you take out those introductions, the chapters feel pretty much the same. I knew I didn't want that. I didn't want to have to "greet" the reader at the beginning of each chapter.

Not using any kind of intro meant that I was going to have to make sure the tone of each chapter was significantly different from the others so that the reader would be able to tell who was talking fairly quickly. And I think I did that. I mean, readers have reported distinct favorites in regards to the characters, and I don't think that would be the case unless there was significant differences between the ways each characters "talks." Adults, especially adult males, tend to favor Tom; kids tend to favor Ruth. Only a few people have told me they favor Sam (unless it's to say they like Tom and Sam, or Ruth and Sam). No one has told me they didn't like Sam, though, and I've had more than a few people tell me they found Ruth to be completely annoying. So I think I did my job.

Of course, I cheated. I used my kids as the templates for each of the characters, so I was using a real personality to start from. Of course, that's not really cheating, because some of the greatest characters in literature have been based on people the authors knew. It's a normal thing to do.

But what if you don't want to be so direct? After all, some people get upset when they read your book and find that they're in there. Where do characters, where do personalities, come from? How do you write them so that they are not just extensions of yourself? And how do you write them so that they stay true to themselves so that you don't lose your audience by having a character do something to which the audience reacts, "Oh, she would never have done that!" That can be a killer.

For the next... while, we'll be talking about personality, the different types, and how to design your characters and have them behave in manners consistent with those personalities. I hope you'll come along.

An Exploration in Fantasy -- Part Six: The Draw

I suppose the real question is, "Why does all of this matter?" Of course, that's the real question for so many things, but let's just look at it in relation to fantasy for the moment. Why does it matter? Why should we care about fantasy or where it comes from?

And that could go in all kinds of directions and get all kinds of philosophical, but I want to look at it in relation to the fantasy model itself. You can find the list here.

So... Let's start with kids.

At some point in all but the rarest of childhoods, we all wish we would find out that we were orphans. Our parents suck, and we want to find out that our real parents died when we were babies and these... things... that are raising us are doing it out of some obligation. Basically, we all wish we were Harry Potter. Or Harriet Potter. Or some variation of that. For me, it was Luke Skywalker. For hundreds of years, it was Arthur. Actually, when I was a kid, sometimes, it was still Arthur.

The point is that kids, pretty much all kids, especially when things happen that they don't like, will wish for something that makes them... special. Something that sets them apart. We want some old guy to come along and tell us we're secretly a wizard or a warrior princess to tell us we're the heir to a mighty kingdom that we have to save. Or, you know, we want to get bitten by a magic squirrel and get mutant powers. Or something like that.

The thing is, an awful lot of childhood feels like a descent. Like being trapped in darkness. Some more than others. And we... Well, we don't feel like we know how to get out of it. Often, it's our parents who are the "dark lords." Or some teacher or other. Or the bully that takes our lunch money every day. And fantasy... It helps us get through.

It does, you know. Help us to get through. Many studies have shown that the associations that we form with characters that we admire help us to make our own ways through difficult situations.
-- If Harry could stay true to himself despite what Umbridge did to him, then I can, too.
-- Even though his father tried to kill him, Luke came out of it even stronger. I can, too.
-- Peter Parker didn't let failure defeat him. He learned from it. So can I.
So, yeah, I think it's important to know where fantasy came from. It's the stuff that childhood is made of.

Some of us carry that with us all of our lives, though others outgrow it. Some never discover it.
-- I just want to point out, here, sort of as an aside, some other studies show that reading is one of the main places that we develop empathy. So, although some parents have an attitude of fantasy as being "all that nonsense," it's important to discover the realms of fantasy as a child. It's how learn that even though Edmund betrayed us that we can still forgive him and take him back. --
Tolkien knew the importance of fantasy, even for adults. It's why he created his mythology of Middle Earth. From that standpoint, we owe a lot to Tolkien for making fantasy something more than just fairy tales. Even though he didn't create the fantasy model that authors now use, he really is the Father of Modern Fantasy!

An Exploration in Fantasy -- Part Four: The Darkest Hour

Along our fantastic fantasy journey, so far, we've learned that we're special and could be the prophesied one, among other things. We've met a mentor and found some friends. We've also gone on a journey, probably in search of something. Hopefully, it's a been a learning experience, and we're fully prepared to meet the final challenge. It's a dark time for the rebellion, after all.

From the initial list I made (which you can see here), we need to cover three more points:

8. There is some kind of descent

9. There is some sort of "dark lord" who can only be defeated by the hero.
10. There's an absence of technology.

We'll start with #10 since it has less to do with plot than the rest of the list and, actually, almost fits alongside fantasy needing races of fantastic creatures or beings. Except that I don't think fantasy needs those creatures, I think we just like those creatures. There are plenty of fantasy stories out there that do not include elves and leprechauns. However, the technology thing is important and much more... mercurial. See, sometimes, the technology is the magic, which can make it difficult to distinguish. But let's go down the list of characters (go and see that same post for that last) and see where where and how the absence of technology applies.

1. Harry Potter -- Potter is set in the modern world, but technology doesn't really exist in the wizarding world. It was a neat trick by Rowling to set it present day but still give it that Medieval feel that everyone seems to want their fantasy to have.

2. Luke Skywalker -- The absence of technology thing may seem to not apply to a science fiction piece, BUT the idea in Star Wars, at least for the Jedi, is to eschew technology. Technology, even a technological monstrosity like the Death Star, is nothing when compared to the power of the Force. It's a hearkening back to a mystical (magical) power source. So, although there is technology in the story, the focus for the hero is to not rely on that technology but to trust his "magic."

3-5. Garion, Rand, Richard -- There is no technology.

6-8. Batman, Spider-Man, Superman -- Often in super hero stories, the technology is the magic. The best example of this (right now, anyway) is probably Iron Man, but it applies, also, to the Fantastic Four and, even, to Batman and Spider-Man. When the technology is so advanced as to, basically, not be reproduce-able for the public, it has become "magical." Alien technology is the same. And Superman is above the need for human technology.

9. the Starks -- Again, no technology.

10. Dorothy -- No tech.

11. Katniss -- Effectively, Katniss functions below technology. It's basically, a magic vs. technology environment, but the magic is the special-ness of Katniss and her superhuman skill with a bow.

12-13. Skeeve & Pug -- No tech.

14. Dresden -- The Dresden series is another one that handles technology in an interesting way. Being set in the modern world, technology exists, but there has to be some way to make the use of magic more desirable than the use of that technology, so... wizards, like Harry, disrupt technology. Destroy it, actually. What we end up with is a constant struggle between magic (the old ways) and technology (the new ways) and Harry walking the line in between the two.

The end result of all of this is a lack of technology in how it relates to the protagonists.

The other two points, the descent and the "dark lord" antagonist, have more to do with the hero story arc than fantasy specifically, but fantasy, more than any other genre, tends to depend upon the hero journey. The confusion (entanglement?) of these two things is probably what causes the association of Joseph Campbell with all of this, but the hero journey can actually be applied to any genre. Probably. I'm not actually sure about romance.

At any rate, virtually every one of our heroes has some kind of "dark lord" they have to face off against, even Dorothy. Of course, in the case of super heroes, they will, inevitably, be more than one. From my list, I'm only not sure about Skeeve (being a comedy fantasy, it's not really required and, although there are antagonists, I don't think any would qualify for the "dark lord" position) and the Starks. I don't think the Lannisters quite count as a "dark lord," and, well, The Song of Fire and Ice is not really that kind of story, anyway, but that would be telling (really, that's for another post not related to this series).

Virtually all of the listed heroes also have a descent of some type, often literal as with Luke and his descent into the cave. The descent serves as a learning experience for the protagonist. Even Dorothy has her descent (in the book) when she is made into a slave by the Wicked Witch. Again, Skeeve may be the only protagonist without a real descent in his story arc but, again, comedy!

The question, then, is how much of this comes from Tolkien. Certainly, it's true that all three of these exist in both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien was adamantly opposed to industrialization (both in life and in war (especially in war after being in the trenches in World War I)) and it shows in his books. The orcs and goblins are his metaphor for a "technological society."

Both Bilbo and Frodo are confronted with defeating "dark lords," though neither of them actually defeat the dark lords of their stories. Smaug is killed by Bard and Sauron by Gollum, even if it was inadvertent. However, it can be argued in both cases that the protagonists set up their defeats. Both heroes survive their descents into darkness -- Bilbo in the tunnel down to Smaug's lair and Frodo... well, most of Frodo's journey is a journey from one darkness to another -- and come out stronger on the other side.

Just as clearly, many authors have modeled these specific aspects of their own works directly after Tolkien, but is there prior precedence for these in fantasy literature?

And will I ever tell you if there is?

An Exploration in Fantasy -- Part Three: Who's Gonna Learn Ya?

Well, obviously, I wasn't thinking of the exact order I was going to deal with my list from the first post in this series, because, today, I need to do some rearranging. So let's look back at the list of the central tropes of current (by current, I mean the last few decades) fantasy literature:

1. The protagonist (I'm just going to say "hero" from here on out; it's shorter) is not an adult (and usually male).
2. The hero is an orphan (usually both parents are dead, although there is sometime one (usually the mother)).
3. The hero is "special" in some way.
4. There is a prophecy, generally related to the hero.
5. There is an old mentor of some sort, usually a male. (We recognize this character as "the wizard.")
6. There is a quest of some sort involved that only the hero can complete.
7. There is some kind of descent
8. The hero has companions who help him on his journey.
9. There is some sort of "dark lord" who can only be defeated by the hero.
10. There's an absence of technology.

 We dealt with #s 1-4 in part two of this series, so let's take a look at the next bit with a change in the ordering. We'll look at the new #s 5-7:

5. There is an old mentor of some sort, usually a male. (We recognize this character as "the wizard.")
6. The hero has companions who help him on his journey.
7. There is a quest of some sort involved that only the hero can complete.

This is the part where, hopefully, there is character development. But that's actually a different topic. What we want to do here is look back at the list from part two of this series (because why not use the same one?) and see how many of them use these three things. So, first, here's that list:

1. Harry Potter

2. Luke Skywalker

3. Garion (The Belgariad)

4. Rand al'Thor (The Wheel of Time)

5. Richard Cypher (The Sword of Truth)

6. Batman

7. Spider-Man

8. Superman

9. Arya and Bran Stark (A Song of Fire and Ice)

10. Dorothy (The Wizard of Oz)

11. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)

12. Skeeve (MythAdventures)

13. Pug (The Riftwar Saga)

14. Harry Dresden (The Dresden Files)

And here's how each of the three things apply:

1. Potter -- Dumbledore and, primarily, Ron and Hermione; each book has its own quest, but it climaxes in the quest for the horcruxes.
2. Luke -- Obi-Wan and Han, Leia, and Chewbacca; the quest theme isn't as clearly defined in these: there are moments of questiness
3. Garion -- Belgarath and, well, really, many more than I want to list; the orb
4. Rand -- Moraine and Lan serve the part of mentor while Mat, Perrin, Egwene and Nynaeve serve as compainions; being such a long series, the quests change as the series progresses
5. Cypher -- Zedd as mentor and Kahlan as companion; the quest is for one of the boxes of Orden
6. Batman -- Alfred serves as mentor while Robin (through most of Batman's history) is his companion; his quest is for justice
7. Spider-Man -- Uncle Ben as mentor, but Spidey has no consistent companions, being mostly a loner; his quest is similar to Batman's but focused more on preventing the devastation he felt from failing to prevent his uncle's death
8. Superman -- Pa Kent and a variety of newspaper cronies; I think Superman is mostly questless
9. a. Arya Stark -- I'm going to say that Jaqen serves as her mentor; she has companions, but I'm not going to look up their names. I'm not sure how to label her quest other than as revenge.
9. b. Bran Stark -- I believe the mentor character is Brynden Rivers (but I could have the name wrong); there are various companions. There is some quest or other that takes him beyond the wall. Thing. Whatever it's called.
10. Dorothy -- The closest thing to a mentor is Glenda; probably, you all know the companions. And the quest to get home to Kansas.
11. Katniss -- Haymitch is probably the primary mentor, though a case could be made for Effie. Peeta is her primary companion, at least in the first one. The quest stuff is less defined in these books (from what I can tell from the movies), though the overall patter is the same.
12. Skeeve -- Aahz is the mentor, and he has various companions. I'm not sure the quest trope fits (it's been too long since I read them.)
13. Pug -- Kulgan is Pug's first mentor, though that changes when he leaves Midkemia. He has two sets of companions, too. There's more than one quest.
14. Dresden -- Ebenezar McCoy is about as mentor-y as you can get and has all flavors of Gandalf written all over him. In overalls. There is the expected cast of companions with Karrin Murphy as the main one. Also, Bob. As a series, the quests vary book to book.

As you can see, virtually every example listed uses some variation of all three points, the most notable exception probably being The Wizard of Oz because calling Glenda the mentor is actually a stretch. This is also the part of fantasy story-telling that we can most "blame" on Tolkien. Specifically, we can blame it on the excellent character of Gandalf that he created and everyone has wanted to play with ever since then. In fact, the authors Tracy Hickman and Margaret Weis have their wizard Fizban call himself Gandalf "by mistake" in one of their books, something I found quite amusing when I was a teenager.

Tolkien also sends us on quests and gives us companions for our protagonist. In The Hobbit, the dwarves serve somewhat interchangeably as companions, meaning that none of them other than Thorin are strictly necessary, though he does flesh them out enough to show us that specific dwarves are better at particular activities, like Fili and Kili and their ability to make fire.

It's in The Lord of the Rings, though, that the "party system," as we've come to think of it, and which D&D so liberally "borrowed," was really created. Each companion has his own field of specialization, so to speak. Legolas is "The Archer;" Gimli is "The Warrior," though we've actually come to think of that as "dwarf warrior" in fantasy circles, because Beorn is the "human warrior." Arogorn is "The Ranger." And there's Gandalf... And nearly every fantasy book written since LotR has used some variation of this.

So we do find that Tolkien used these three points of the list, but the real question is whether he invented these things or if they came from somewhere else.

An Exploration in Fantasy -- Part Two: Orphans and the Gum Under the Seat

It may seem that the easiest way to find the origins of fantasy literature would be to simply follow the trail of fantasy literature back in history until we get to the earliest examples of it, but that would cause some problems. For instance, when does fantasy cease to be fantasy and become legend or myth? Are we going to call Beowulf a fantasy story? Or the tales of the Greek and Egyptian gods? Or Gilgamesh? It gets kinda messy if we do that. And that's not really what we're looking for, anyway. No, we're trying to establish where our current model for fantasy writing comes from. Look back at the last post to see the list.

So, although we're not going to go looking for historical beginnings, we are going to start at the beginning. Or, at least, where all fantasy stories start: the orphan boy. Sure, sure, it's not always a boy; Disney has given us plenty of girls, after all; but, when we start talking about the genre of fantasy literature, it's nearly always a boy. Or, even, outside the strict confines of fantasy. Let's take a look at some of the most popular examples (and some that I just like):

1. Harry Potter
2. Luke Skywalker
3. Garion (The Belgariad)
4. Rand al'Thor (The Wheel of Time)
5. Richard Cypher (The Sword of Truth)
6. Batman
7. Spider-Man
8. Superman
9. Arya and Bran Stark (A Song of Fire and Ice)
10. Dorothy (The Wizard of Oz)
11. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)
12. Skeeve (MythAdventures)
13. Pug (The Riftwar Saga)
14. Harry Dresden (The Dresden Files)

And, actually, I could just go on and on, but I've probably made my point. The fact is, almost any piece of fantasy that you pick up will have the orphan kid as the protagonist. In fact, I'm having trouble thinking of anything that doesn't use that as a starting point. Okay, technically, Dresden is not an orphan kid at the beginning of the series, but there is much made of the fact that he was an orphan so, even though we start with him as an adult, we get the full orphan background for him and how that set him up as the person he is when the series starts. And, yes, Arya and Bran don't start that series as orphans, but the orphan thing for them is significant and clearly part of the paradigm. We just get to see them get orphaned.

In fact, the author that is conspicuously missing from this list is Tolkien. Bilbo is most definitely not an orphan nor is he a kid. Bilbo isn't even young. Nor is Frodo. Okay, you could make a case for the orphan status of Frodo, but it doesn't actually have any bearing on the story. It was actually a contrivance by Tolkien to give Bilbo an heir that wasn't there during The Hobbit. Then there's the fact that Frodo is 50 by the time he leaves the Shire with the Ring. The orphan trope just doesn't apply when we're talking about Tolkien, so it must have come from somewhere else.

Added to the "orphan boy" trope there are the "child of prophecy" and "special" tropes. Special can mean some sort of special ability or having royal parents or any number of things. So let's go down our list and see which of these apply to the group I've selected.

1. Harry Potter -- there is a prophecy, and he's special (survived the death curse)
2. Luke Skywalker -- son of Vader, which makes him pretty special (and the prequels add in a prophecy)
3. Garion -- there's a prophecy, he's the hidden son of a king, and he's a powerful wizard
4. Rand al'Thor -- there's a prophecy and he's special
5. Richard Cypher -- he's got both things, too
6. Batman -- no prophecy, but he's special (yes, unlimited wealth counts as a special ability)
7. Spider-Man -- also, no prophecy, but he's genius smart and gets super powers
8. Superman -- I think the special is apparent. Have they ever included any kind of prophecy for him? I don't know.
9. Arya and Bran Stark -- Arya has some kind of prophecy about her, and Bran has special powers. Maybe there's a prophecy about him, too? Not having read the books, I'm not clear on all of it. But it's clear that these two are central to the story, and they have all the markers. Actually, so does Daenerys.
10. Dorothy -- there's no prophecy, but they certainly treat her as if she is special
11. Katniss -- also no prophecy (I don't think), but she is clearly portrayed as being extraordinary
12. Skeeve -- I don't remember there being any kind of prophecy, but Skeeve is portrayed as being above normal.
13. Pug -- prophecy and special magic powers
14. Harry Dresden -- there is some kind of prophecy (though I'm not to a point in the series where I know what it is, but it's been mentioned), and he's more powerful than he ought to be

So all of these examples have at least one of the two things and many have both. Tolkien, however, has neither. There is no prophecy in either The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings, and Tolkien makes it very clear that Bilbo and Frodo are only special in that they are willing to go, which is to say not special at all. They have no special powers or abilities. They are just hobbits.

When we look back at the first four things on the list from the last post (special orphan boy of prophecy), we find that Tolkien has none of these things; therefore, saying that this part of the fantasy structure is based on Tolkien would be a foolish thing to say. This idea is fairly central to modern fantasy, but it certainly doesn't come from the "Father of Modern Fantasy."

Oh! Before you leave, make sure you check under your chair; the orphans, special or not, leave gum there for good little children. Or whoever is sitting in the chair.

Lies Writers Tell... To Other Writers (Part Two -- Your First Novel Sucks)

As I mentioned last time, we writers have convinced ourselves of a lot of untruths, and, you know, it's fine to believe an untruth if that's what you want to believe. My kids, the two younger ones at any rate, still choose to believe in Santa Claus. At least, I'm fairly certain they know he's not really real, but they want to believe in him so they choose to do so. It's part of Christmas at our house so they choose to believe and that's totally okay.

Now, it would be a different story entirely if they were out telling their friends that their families were doing it wrong if they didn't have Santa as a part of their Christmas traditions.

However, if you ever sit it on a kindergarten class at Christmas time, those kids really believe in Santa -- I mean, really really believe in Santa with their whole hearts --and they will set out to tell anyone who might happen to say that Santa isn't real just how wrong he is. And that's where we writers are with this first lie (and I think it's the biggest, most damaging lie we tell): Your first novel sucks!!!
It sucks and you should, minimally, stick it in a drawer somewhere and forget it exists. Even better, pack it in the bottom of a box and bury it in your closet, but, to be really safe, you should dig a hole in your back yard, drop it in, and plant a tree on it.

[Now I'm going to take a little aside, so just follow along. Really, it applies.]

In science, there is a thing called a theory. People not in science have taken this word and warped it into something it doesn't mean, so follow the process:

Let's say there's a scientist taking a nap under a tree, a tree that happens to bear apples, and, while he's sleeping, one of those apples falls off of the tree and hits him on the head. This, of course, wakes the scientist up as he tries to figure out who's been throwing apples at him. But, A-HA!, he has an idea: "I think apples fall to the ground when they are dropped." This idea is called a hypothesis.

Now, the scientist wants to know if his idea is correct or not, so he devises a series of experiments to test it. He shakes the tree until apples fall off. He picks up the apples and drops them from his hands and, yes, sure enough, they all fall on the ground. He takes them up on the roof of his house and drops them from there. He gets other people to test whether when they drop the apples they also fall to the ground. He goes up on the highest building he can find, maybe that leaning tower place, and drops them from there. No matter what test he tries, the apples always fall to the ground.
Also, he finds that he no longer wants to eat any of the apples he's been dropping so he decides he should, next time, test his "drop idea" with something that won't become bruised and inedible.
At the end of all of the testing, IF the idea proves to be true, at least in so far as you can test it, you have what is called a theory. If, however, just one time, the guy drops the apple and it does not fall to the ground, you do NOT have a theory. At that point, you go back to your hypothesis and modify it and start testing all over again.

SO:
An idea that is just an idea is a hypothesis.
An idea that has been tested and tested and tested and has had NO (ZERO) failures is a theory.

See, the thing about a theory is that it is still conceivable that there could be some circumstances under which it would not hold to be true, but we don't have the means of testing those circumstances. A theory could still turn out to be WRONG.

And just so you know: The stage beyond Theory is Law. If we have shown, as with gravity, that you will get the same results EVERY TIME you do something, it's considered a Law, and we have shown mathematically that gravity does exist and that EVERY TIME anyone drops an apple it will fall to the ground.

And here is where we go back to this lie that writers tell: The people who state it, state it as a the First Law of Writing: Your first novel will suck. Throw it away and never think about it again.

So, right now, I'm going to punch a GIANT hole in that law. Going back to SCIENCE, any event which shows your hypothesis not to be true makes it not a theory. If it's not a theory, it can't be a Law, and, if it's not a theory, you, also, can't use it as a hypothesis. You have to go back to that hypothesis and modify it. So, if you take "Your first book will always suck" as your hypothesis, let's look at some first novels that show that that just isn't any good as a working hypothesis.

To put it another way, if these following authors had listened to the advice (the very common, spoken-everywhere-among-writers advice) that their first novels were no good and had junked them, here are some (just a few) of the novels we would not have in our world. [By the way, all three of the novels I think everyone should read are on this list. All three of what I would say are the most significant novels I have ever read were first novels by the author.]
Oh, and let me clarify: When I say "first novel," I don't mean "first published novel" (meaning they had a few practice ones that they did throw away); I mean "first written novel by the particular author." Sometimes, in fact, these were the ONLY novels the particular author EVER wrote.
Here's just a few:

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien -- Sure, you might say that he wrote a bunch of other stuff before he wrote the The Hobbit, but he had never written a novel before, and that's a very different kind of thing than other types of writing. Oh, and if he'd never published this, there would be no The Lord of the Rings or anything else by Tolkien.

The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell -- This novel won a bunch of awards, too.

Watership Down by Richard Adams -- It also won a bunch of awards.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley -- I can't even summarize how influential this book has been. Imagine if she'd just tossed it.

The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens -- Probably nothing else needs to be said, BUT it was also the first book ever to become a "publishing phenomenon" (think Harry Potter except that didn't really hit it big until the third or fourth book), his first book.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte -- The only novel she ever wrote.

Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison -- His second novel took 40 years to write.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee -- She said she would never be able to write a book to top Mockingbird, so she never made an attempt at a second novel.

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

Neuromancer by William Gibson -- Gibson had written a few short stories prior to being commissioned to write a novel. The idea terrified him, but he wrote it. It changed the landscape of both science fiction and reality. It won both the Nebula and Hugo awards as best novel of the year when it came out.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling -- Because you can't keep her off a list like this. And, beyond that, I'm not going to say anything else about it.

And, really, I could go on. I could go on for a long time. I mean, I've only covered first novels that have gone on to become significant works of literature, but there are plenty out there that have been more than adequate first novels. This idea that "first novels" should be tossed in the trash is a myth. It's not even an adequate hypothesis.

Granted, some first novels will suck but, then, some of the authors even on this list never wrote anything to equal the greatness of their first work. Harper Lee wouldn't even try again. I'm not saying that your first work is literary genius puked on a page; I am saying don't listen to people that tell you to just put "that one" away and never let anyone see it. To me, that sounds more like, "My first novel sucked; therefore, all first novels must suck." Don't judge your work by someone else's failure.