I hate tricks. At the first sign of a trick or gimmick in a piece of fiction, a cheap trick or even an elaborate trick, I tend to look for cover. Tricks are ultimately boring, and I get bored easily, which may go along with my not having much of an attention span. But extremely clever chi-chi writing, or just plain tomfoolery writing, puts me to sleep. Writers don't need tricks or gimmicks or even necessarily need to be the smartest fellows on the block. At the risk of appearing foolish, a writer sometimes needs to be able to just stand and gape at this or that thing- a sunset or an old shoe- in absolute and simple amazement.
In his reflections, Raymond Carver expresses a strong aversion to tricks and gimmicks in writing. He finds such devices, whether simple or complex, tedious and unengaging. This disdain for artificiality stems from his belief that he has a limited attention span; thus, clever or overly intricate writing often fails to captivate him. Instead of resorts to tricks, Carver emphasizes the value of genuine observation and experience in writing.
He advocates for the importance of simplicity and authenticity in literature. A writer's ability to appreciate the world around them, whether it’s a sunset or an ordinary object, can lead to a profound expression of wonder. Carver suggests that instead of relying on clever plots or sophisticated devices, writers should embrace the beauty of the ordinary to create meaningful connections with their audience.