Like a Rug · 7:26pm Jan 26th, 2016
Time for another Weekly Wednesday blog post.
I reckon it's time to educate y'all on the flavours and shapes a lie can come in.
Weird subject to talk about, huh? But I bet you're curious.
I don't like lying. I believe honestly is the best policy, with very few exceptions. I have very few secrets, But honestly, it's because that storyteller urge of mine sometimes screams at me to embellish things that I don't need to, to make my side of the situation more one sided. Everyone has that urge, I think. I hope. God damn, I hope it's not just me.
I'm capable of being rather good at lying, too, which is a separate issue entirely. I'm reminded of a joke from a show called Better off Ted where the titular character's boss fools a new lie detector, capable of saying "The sky is green" without setting it off. When asked how, her response is simple; "I simply believe whatever I'm saying is true, so it is."
They re-calibrate it to handle sociopaths.
It's a good walk away lesson, though, honestly.
Wait, wait, sorry, again, you ask, why am I talking about this at all?
Good fiction is good lying. Good lying is good fiction. Sometimes you need to have a character lie, blatantly. How you do it can really affect the tone of both the character and your setting, and just how believable the lie is to your other characters and, more importantly, your audience. It's something I don't see touched on very often, either.
1: The Devil is in the Details
The more information you give, the more unbelievable your lie. Sort of. Maybe.
Okay, here's the deal; The more detail you provide unprovoked is the key here. Having the whole shape of your near-truth -- and we'll get to that in a moment -- in your head is important when asked about it. A character that can coolly add detail upon request is a very different league from a character who blurts it all out. Or even just keep it short and sweet.
Effective lying is like effective 19th century children: Speak only when spoken to, answer only when addressed.
Let's call our mark, Mark:
Mark: "Why were you gone so long?"
Done Badly: "I only went to get a cup of water, but then the spigot broke, and then I got water all down my leg -- you can see that, right? -- and so I had to go wipe myself off, but I couldn't get myself too dry, which is why you can still see the mark, which is obviously still there, but then I fixed the spigot before coming back so you wouldn't get bad."
Done Well: "Water cooler broke. Fixed it, though. Sorry about that."
2: The Mark
Wizard's First Rule: People Believe what they Want to Believe, or what they Fear may be True
What the fuck am I saying with that, right?
Know your audience. Flattery is almost always transparent, and tends to only work against narcissists and egotists. On the other hand, there's a lot to be said for a switch-out: Trading something very incriminating with the admission of something less incriminating. That one's far more believable. Why? Because people want to believe they've won, they've got an admission of guilt out of you. People don't look for deception within deception quite as often, especially when you've thrown out something that already puts you in a weaker position to them. People just want to accept victory as it comes.
Mark: "Did you break the printer again?"
Done Badly: "I don't think so? I did everything like you said, Mark, and you never have problems with it." -- Now, I say badly, but this one still gets our fibber a bit more off the hook then he otherwise would be. Also note that he uses Mark's name explicitly. Big brownie points there.
Done Well: "Yeah, I did. I was just looking for you actually, Mark, you're a lot better at fixing it than I am, I was worried I'd just muck it up even worse." -- This, though, is your sweet spot. The flattery is more subtle -- you're admitting a weakness rather than stating Mark's strengths, letting him fill in the blank himself. People are also more inclined to be more favourable when you admit weakness, so long as you're not constantly burdening them with it. People resent dead weight about as much as a lying scumbag, for some reason.
In both cases, the liar had no intention of admitting it until he was specifically called out on it. This is also the most sincere sort of lie, it's the sort of thing a protagonist in a Romantic Comedy could get away with at the start of their character arc. A charming rogue.
What they Fear Might be True, meanwhile, is for the more advanced liar. The bigger bastard. It's deflecting the blame. Use this to show a character is a sociopath or a chess player. A conniving bastard. Typically, I'd put it on characters with a lot of intelligence. Celestia is a fantastic example of a character who'd play with this kind of lie.
Mark: "Did you steal my lunch out of the fridge?"
Done Badly: "Oh God, that was yours? I threw it out. Check the expiration date next time." -- Why badly? Because you're still the dick that deprived them of their lunch without telling them. It's going to be mitigated by a little self-blame, especially if you follow up with it stinking up a communal fridge -- which is to say, playing on their guilt. You're still the one that ate his curry, though.
Done Well: "Nah, I had a chocolate bar in my desk" -- as above, admitting a smaller sin earns trust for the bigger ones -- "What'd you bring?"
Never offer information that isn't provided by your-
Mark: "Tupperware bowl of curry I brought from home. Had my name on the lid in permanent marker, now it's just sitting by the sink."
Done Well: "Wait, you mean that wasn't Janet's, from accounting? Oh man, she must still be pissed at you. I thought she got over that."
Mark: "...?!!"
This one? This one is just flat mean. For added bonus, our antihero set this up just so he can watch the fireworks.
3: I want the new Truth, the new Whole Truth, and nothing but the new Truth
I mentioned too many details as a bad thing. Kind of. Sort of. But here's the thing: Your memory isn't static. It's your mind recreating the situation from whole cloth, based on a few details. It's why witness reports can be so dodgy in police investigations, especially the longer they are from the actual incident.
Use that to your -- or your character's! -- advantage. Your memory is malleable. If your recreation of events is perfect, it's much harder to be caught out on a lie. Don't separate the incident and the lie in your head as two unrelated things. The lie is now the truth, and always has been the truth. Everything else is just an inconvenience.
The trick to this one is to keep everything as close to what actually happened as possible. The less you need to change, the better. More often, this will remove inconsistencies as well. Keep it believable, too. The more likely it is to be true, the less you're question your own interpretation of events -- and if even you can't believe your own lie, how can you expect anyone else to?
When your new worldview is questioned, you don't have to act. You simply have to react.
You're not even lying at this point. You simply have a different interpretation of the truth.
Mark: "What did you say about Jarod?"
Done Badly: "I can't remember, honestly. I think-" Nope. You need absolute conviction. Otherwise you're just going to look like a flake and a muppet.
Done Well: "I called him a prick." -- Admission of guilt, straight off, your story will be contested -- "Because he was saying shit about you behind your back to me."
Jerrod: "Wait, fucking what?"
"I'm so sick of you trying to start shit like this! What's with all the goddamn drama?"
People believe what they fear might be true. Worst of all, this applies to Jerrod and Mark. Jerrod might get angry -- proving your point. Or he might not respond, leading Mark to believe it's credible. Jerrod's probably wondering about what you mean about starting drama right now, and that tends to shut down a dude's train of thought. Has he done this before? And you sound so sure!
And what's Mark going to do, shut you down for standing up for him? Worst case scenario, you both get reprimanded, but you take Jerrod down with you, Man, what a fuckin' prick.
I cannot believe what he was saying about Mark behind his goddamn back?
4: Absolute Conviction.
The funny thing is, I already talked about this exact thing in another blog a while back, at least a few months ago.
That's a blatant fucking lie.
Get it?
Oh!
And a huge chunk of Demesne has started first pass of editing.
Wizard's First Rule? You kinky son of a bitch.
Regardless of the veracity of this last sentence I applaud it for making my thought process do it's best hamster impression trying to figure out whether or not it is true.
You are so awesome.
You cheeky...
ಠ_ಠ
The #Sociopathy tag is what sells it to me. Especially because if someone ever tells you that they don't lie, they are lying. Shit, you're one of the most honest people I know, because you only lie when it's absolutely necessary, and it still counts as lying, doesn't it? So if you go by that rule, every person in my everyday life is a sociopath.
Then again, I'm a lawyer, and I'm constantly surrounded by lawyers. So, hmmm. Hmmmmm.
I think that lying is a complex thing that has a lot of factors in there. Mostly, it's about swagger---acting with so much conviction you're baffled they'd ever doubt you. You don't try to convince them, you just mention it and assume they agree with you, then continue with the conversation.
I remember fondly one time when my friends came for a week to my house on the beach. My mother was the kind of liberal parent who believes that children are going to try alcohol on their own anyway, so why not do it with supervision? That way, she brought us to her favorite bar and let us drink one beer each. The waiter was a friend of hers, and we were all properly introduced.
Next day, we all go back to the bar, this time sans my mother. We just sit at the table and ask for beers again. The waiter nods and goes to the bar, and shortly afterwards returns.
"Um, sorry, I know this is a weird question, but..." She looks at the bar, back at us. "You are eighteen, rigth? My boss is unsure, and it's kind of a big deal."
I just waved a hand. "Hah! My mother would need to be way more liberal than she is to let us drink here if we were minors, don't you think?"
Waiter laughed, said that sure, she was just making sure, and then went away to get the drinks. She even refused to see my ID when I offered it to her later on, and we all laughed off the incident.
One of my proudest moments, right there. My mates paid for my beer.
The thing about lying, I believe, is that unless you have a bad reputation (which is hard to get; you have to be a REALLY bad liar), most people assume you're telling the truth. "Act natural" is the easiest way to go, but I think it also helps if you take the kind of attitude that no liar would take. If you break a chair, storm into your sister's room and angrily ask if she did that, because it was your favorite chair. Keep talking about it. Bring up the goddamn chair every time you talk with someone who doesn't know it's broken.
It's kind of an art, to lie properly. Also, don't be afraid to change your story if enough time has passed. Nobody has good memory anyway, so they'll probably believe you. I do that all the time, and so far, I've never been caught. I think. Probably? Someone has possibly caught me at least once, but I always say I've never been caught, so even the ones who did get me forget about it.
Now, lying is easy. Knowing when someone lies? Totally impossible. There's no way, if you're against a good liar. You just need to know beforehand that said person is lying. Or just break their legs. Whatever works better.
Well put. However: The best lie, by far, is the one you never need to tell.
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So what you're saying is, don't leave any witnesses?
Yeah, lying and fiction go hand in hand. Which has actually led to some problems in my own life. Better to focus the untruth in constructive ways, rather than manipulate those around you for your own amusement or betterment.
Rehearsal is a liar's best friend. You rehearse before lying to a paying audience (some people call this acting), so why wouldn't you rehearse before lying pro bono? Harness that social anxiety that makes you obsessively conduct conversations in your head for nefarious purposes!
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Or, if you're a changeling (which no one here definitely is), replace them.
Oh coolwaaaaaait a second.
Thing is, though, Janet didn't eat it, she's going to defend herself, and if she happens to have an alibi - quite likely in an office full of people - the whole thing's going to come back to you.
Now of course,
which goes hand in hand with
and together you can very well use these to brush the incident off as a misunderstanding. Also you already ate that chocolate bar, remember? It was probably someone new, or one of those shut-ins from development who never talk to anyone, whom you mistook for Janet. If Mark and Janet already dislike each other, they won't unite to prove you wrong together, and you can just create some confusion and then let the incident fade.
But the question is, why do this in the first place? You lose nothing from stopping at just mentioning the chocolate bar. And
so Mark will just leave you alone and you won't even have to defend yourself.
And I would also like to stress point #3. Really believe what you're saying. Our brain is really good at constructing circumstances, which is why authors are able to tell really intricate stories that are self-consistent. Use that to your advantage: don't construct a script, or a bullet-point list of details that are untrue, but rather "remember" the entire scene, and just describe it. What separates a good liar from a bad one is the ability to construct such scenes on the fly, which enables them to describe any arbitrary detail in a mostly self-consistent way - the rest can be blamed on misremembering: human memory isn't perfect anyway, and in fact being able to give too many details can be a giveaway that you're making stuff up.
Mix two parts truth with one part lie.
Then blame it on the other guy.
It's not my fault; I don't recall.
Are you sure you ever told me at all?
I'm feeling good, that is the truth.
Just please don't ask me for some proof.
A little lie, that makes me seem sad.
So that what I did, doesn't seem so bad.
Careful phrasing is a useful thing.
When around the truth, you must dance and sing.
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My thoughts exactly... DON'T YOU PLAY WITH MY FEELINGS, NUMBERS!
I have a bit of a reputation among my RL friends and associates; that I never really lie while at the same time I may not be saying the full truth. I am much like your traditional Fae, in that I mostly go by the wording of the law, not the spirit of the law.
Being a "known liar" I can often fool people through the use of honesty. You can't ever really trust me, not even to be untrustworthy.
Also I always do my best to make good on a promise or a statement of action, but, again, I'm like the Fae; you have to watch out for my wording.
This makes a couple of games harder to play with the people who know me but at the same time makes them so much more fun.
There is some merit to being a "known liar", you just have to be aware of it and use it to your advantage.
Or find those suckers (you know, the ones born every minute) who think they can out smart you.
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I don't know what to feel!