Rather than give away any of the book’s knowledge, I’ll just talk a little about the thoughts I have while reading it.  You should definitely read the book for yourself.

A book like this that covers a lot of historical science gives me a lot of “what-if” thoughts.  Especially because so much chemistry was important in the eventual creation of the atomic bomb—there are various moments you can look at and say, “What if they didn’t really figure that out there?” And then there are alternate universe ideas, where you think, “what if it didn’t actually work that way?”  Miniature thought experiments/story possibilities come to mind quite often with something like this.

It also reminds me what scientists, real scientists, are like, and how they behave—what their dreams and career aspirations are like.  I was once on track to be one of those people, ultimately deciding to give up academic science for working with computers.  I had forgotten what it was like to live in that world of the mind that they do for such huge chunks of their day.  I had forgotten some of the eccentricities of the personalities as well.  Which is funny considering one of my really good friends is Mike Brotherton, an astronomy professor, and my father-in-law is a professor in molecular biology and organic chemistry.

It also shocks me how the knowledge of how molecular bonds work, and how to read the periodic table, never really left me, even though I haven’t had a need to do it in ages.  I have a pretty weak memory for many things.  I was telling someone the other day that I’m miserable at crossword puzzles—not because I have a bad vocabulary, but because it tends to operate in only one direction.  I recognize words and know what they mean, but if you provide me the definition in crossword format, I often draw a blank.   Additionally, I tend to remember big picture broad theory, but when it comes to specifics, I rarely recall anything but the eccentric and strange.   Until something prompts me, and then it can all come flooding back.  I haven’t thought about electron shells since sophomore year in college, but here I am following along with this book and it’s like I learned it all yesterday. 

I read books like this in the hope that they will spark a good story I can tell, but really, the pure knowledge I gain for my own benefit is just fun.  I don’t care if I can’t work a story out of the details of the events surrounding the discovery of yttrium.   Just knowing it makes me feel like a more evolved person.  Maybe that’s enough.  Maybe *everything* I do doesn’t have to somehow contribute to some vague career goal I have. 

It takes watching a show like this to really remind me of that.  There’s a scene in which Scully pre-buys an airplane ticket to one location and then, at the terminal, buys a new ticket for another destination, and the attendee doesn’t bat an eye.  No identification is shown.  Off she goes.  Shocking!  And yet I can remember how in high school I took the place of another student on the Model U.N. team and flew to Chicago on his ticket, in his name.  No problem at all.  I held the ticket and that’s all I needed to board.

Certainly, the show reminds us of the olden days, but not always in good ways.  I’m appalled at how often Scully is used not as a protagonist but as a motivator or plot point.  It seems like she’s being kidnapped or held hostage in every other episode, and it’s always up to Mulder to save the day.  There was finally a moment where Scully was in peril, about to be devoured by a fat-sucking vampire when, out of nowhere, the monster is shot.  And it’s not Mulder!  It’s the other woman who was about the be the vampire’s victim.  The scene shocked me for no reason other than how it broke the formula finally.  I imagine it passed without notice when the episode aired, but it seemed like a move forward as far as the gender roles.  Additionally, the episode featured an old-fashioned detective who doesn’t think women like Scully should be working such cases, and he gets eaten by the monster in the second act. Methinks the writer of that episode knew what he or she was doing when they wrote it.

On another tangent, I learned that the writer of my favorite episodes, the ones with darkly comic sensibilities, Darin Morgan, now consults on Fringe.  This guy wrote brilliant, hilarious episodes such as “Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose” (in which a psychic suggests that Mulder will die via autoerotic asphyxiation and that Scully never dies), or my all-time favorite, “War of the Coprophages” about cockroaches.  Digging around on Wikipedia revealed to me that not only did he write for the show—he got his start playing the creepy fluke man in an early monster of the week episode.    Darin Morgan, if you’re out there listening—you’re a hero of mine and have had a huge impact on my sense of humor.  Sorry you had to spend so much time dressed up as a human fluke.  That episode gave me and countless other kids nightmares though, so you could say it paid off in a way.

This is how I know I’m getting older.  I begin to obsess about things from the past more than I do about modern things.   Nostalgia is not a young man’s emotion.  But I miss those days when the biggest worry we had was that the government was lying to us about the existence of extraterrestrials. I miss the days when I was credulous enough to believe in UFOs, ghosts, and the like. The world was both more simple and more wondrous then.  As I grow older, the world merely grows more complex.  But perhaps that’s my own fault.  Wonder is, after all, in the eye of the beholder.

1. Transition by Iain M Banks

I picked this up because I’m a huge fan of Zelazny’s Amber series, and the cover copy reminded me of it, with the traveling between worlds.  Parts of this book worked well for me, and parts did not (most notably, the unreliable narrator aspect).  I would read further books in the milieu if they are published.

2. The Blade Itself, 3. Before They Are Hanged, 4. Last Argument of of Kings by Joe Abercrombie

It’s nice once and a while to read an entire series back to back.  The strong characterizations and rapid plotting worked well for me. 

5. Photographing Nature by Ralph A. Clevenger

I learned a little here, but not much.  Wet-belly photography being the strongest concept I took away (macro photography, taken at ground level, using a trash compactor bag to keep yourself dry).

6. Finch by Jeff VanderMeer

Weird fantasy noir.  Very much enjoyed it, and will read Jeff’s books from now on.

7. Paragaea by Chris Roberson

This took me back to what it was like to be 13 and reading the John Carter series.  I didn’t want it to end.

8. Monster by A. Lee Martinez

I enjoyed the protagonist quite a bit here, especially his voice.

9. Linchpin by Seth Godin

This book will influence my thinking about creative work for decades to come. Highly recommended for all artists and writers.

10. His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik

Now I know what all the fuss was about.  Temeraire is a really memorable and likable character.

11. Throne of Jade by Naomi Novik

More Temeraire can only be a good thing.

12. Rework by the 47 Signals Guys

Another very influential book on my thinking regarding creative work.  I didn’t find it quite so controversial as some did.

13. Dead Mens Boots by Mike Carey

Every day reading a new Carey book is like Christmas.

14. Black Powder War by Naomi Novik

Novik’s China was fascinating, and Temeraire is coming along nicely in his evolution as a character.

15. Fordlandia: The Rise and Fall of Henry Ford’s Jungle City by Greg Grandin

I learned a lot about Henry Ford and his ethics and principles here,  and while at times he was quite repugnant, there was something fascinating about his drive and determination.  Even his failures, documented so well, are interesting lessons.  I hope to write some space colonization stories that take lessons from Fordlandia.

16. A Victory of Eagles by Naomi Novik

That dragon is just awesome.

17. For the Win by Cory Doctorow

I’m still trying to learn how to write about the internet in an interesting way from Cory.  I gathered a handful of lessons from this one.

18. Kraken by China Mieville 

China Mieville spoofs urban fantasy.  This was a wild ride.

19. Locke & Key: Welcome to Lovecraft by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez

I read this as a meaty hard-cover.  Wonderful line work by Rodriguez and Hill sets the stage with fascinating world building for what I hope continues to be a compelling series.

20. Mice Templar by Brian J. L. Glass and Michael Avon Oeming

Epic, in the true sense.  The artwork is breathtaking.

21. Scott Pilgrim Volume 6

A very satisfying conclusion to one of the best graphic novel series in a decade.  Although I liked the ending of the movie better.

22. Ghostopolis by Doug Ten Napel

No one does whimsy in graphic novels like Napel.  Tackling the afterlife was a bold choice here that I thought paid off pretty well.

23. Transhuman, The Sword, DV8, Wasteland, Victorian Undead, Pax Romana, and more comics

DV8 is especially great as a meditation on superpowers and gods.  Pax Romana was the usual astonishing work by Hickman.

24. Writing for Comics & Graphic Novels by Peter David

Valuable lessons I’ll probably never put to use, but I’m glad I read it.

25. The Elephantmen by Richard Starkings with art by Moritat

Lush artwork, detailed world building, and really fantastic character in the form of Hieronymus (Hip) Flask. I hope they make a movie.

26. Year’s Best Science Fiction 27th Annual, edited by Gardner Dozois

The usual astounding collection of short fiction.

27. Dark Reflections by Samuel R. Delany

Recommended by Nick Mamatas—this is my first Delany and certainly won’t be my last. 

28. About Writing by Samuel R. Delany

Fantastic lessons about plotting and structure to be learned here.  Must read for writers.

29. Lake Woebegotten by Harrison Geillor

I read an ARC of this and devoured it in a single sitting.  That Geillor nailed the voice and the genre, synthesizing something suprisingly fresh.

30. Kill the Dead by Richard Kadrey

Sandman Slim is back!  I am a huge fan of Kadrey’s supernatural noir style.

31. The Bookman by Lavie Tidar

Nobody writes like Lavie Tidar. I never had any clue where this book was going.  I’m really looking forward to picking up the next one. 

32. Zoo City by Lauren Beukes

More supernatural noir, set in South Africa with really, really good world building and an interesting system of magic.

33. Shipbreaker by Paolo Bacigalupi

Paolo writes the future not as we want it to be, but as it will probably turn out, and it breaks your heart.  Anything he writes is a must-read for me.

34. Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld

The world building here is just amazing.  We have less of the awesome biotech from the first, but more giant robot awesome.  I can’t wait for more.

35. The Fry Chronicles by Stephen Fry

I listened to this on my road trip to Ohio for World Fantasy, and I was utterly enthralled.  Stephen is not just a national treasure of Britain—he’s a treasure for all of us.

I’m happy to discuss any of these further in the comments.  Just prompt me!

Most do not live the lives of relative luxury we do, but one of the promises of globalism has been said to be an elevation of those who are in poverty. Will those living in Brazil, Mexico, Kenya, or China one day know lives with better amenities,health care, and basic nutrition? Or will the same web of post-colonialism, transnational banking dealing from decks stacked against the poor, and corrupt government regimes keep third world countries rooted in poverty?

The Sleep Dealer is an examination of American globalization as it impacts our lives today, where resentment to illegal immigration in America is as high as it ever has been, but where there are still jobs to be had for those who brave the crossing (at least, prior to our economic woes). The world of the Sleep Dealer is not so different from our own, except in a few very important ways.

The United States of the sleep dealer is mostly seen indirectly, through the lenses of telepresence drones, or in the cramped confines of virtual operator stations where soldiers pilot drones to protect corporatized water in places like Mexico. America appears to be sealed off completely to immigration, at least from Mexico. A wall has been built, and it’s guarded by remote-controlled cameras with heavy machine guns. A future that seemed much less implausible 2 years ago when the anti-immigration sentiment seemed to reach its peak.

The U.S. of this future still requires cheap labor, even if it cannot abide the physical presence of immigrants, legal or otherwise. In this near future, virtual reality technology, portrayed in a way that would fit in with any cyberpunk novel (a series of plugs along the arms and shoulders that allow a kind of neural interface), allows the poor to work within the States. It’s best not to think too hard about the portrayal of the equipment here, which seems more tailored toward a particular visual aesthetic than making logical sense. What was with the gas masks piping in oxygen? Nevertheless–

The backdrop of the world in the Sleep Dealer feels lived in, well worn, and not implausible. Our protagonist is an intelligent young man with an interest in escaping his tiny, water-impoverished farmstead. He tinkers with hacking telecommunications satellites as a means of escape, but soon he overhears something that he should not, and the events of the story are set into motion.

In the aftermath of a tragedy, Memo (a very Gibsonian name, I thought) travels to Tijuana to receive the implants that will allow him to work in the virtual labor factories. He meets a woman, a writer who sells her memories uploaded to the network, who takes an interest in his painful past and whose stories about Memo are funded by a mysterious buyer.

I’ll say no more about the plot, except to say that while this is a science fiction film, it is also an independent film in that sense that it is not the tightly shot, leave-nothing-unanswered big studio style of storytelling. The cinematography is often dreamlike, and the story’s gentle narration reinforce this. The story in some ways feels like a character’s lucid dream.

It’s a contemplative film in its pacing as well. Those expecting a tightly plotted thriller or action film should look elsewhere. This is a film that is more interested in letting the audience come to its own conclusions than lecturing morally (or otherwise).

This was something different than what we are used to seeing. While some of its ideas may not seem so fresh to long-time readers of science fiction, I don’t think this is something we’ve ever seen portrayed this way on the silver screen. It’s worth picking up on DVD or renting at the very least.

We all consume a tremendous amount of media these days, whether it be books, tv, magazines, or blogs.  But how often do we really express our gratitude and appreciation to the creators of these things?

I’ve long tried to make a point of writing notes to writers in my own field when I read a piece of work that I really enjoy.  I know how great it feels to receive such notes.  When you don’t make a lot of money in your creative pursuits, the appreciation from other human beings can really make it all worthwhile.

So, I declare today “Write a Complimentary Note to a Writer or Editor” Day.  Has someone done a wonderful job with a story, or putting together an issue of a zine?  Tell them.  You’ll feel good, they will feel good, and a little more happiness in these dark times can only be a good thing.

So how often should “Write a Complimentary Note to a Writer or Editor” day come about?  I’m thinking weekly…  Hey, it’s not like Administrative Assistant Appreciation Day where you have to buy gifts.  This is just a few minutes of your time to dig up an e-mail address and send a message to it.

The peoples of the internets are so quick to say when we don’t like something.  Let’s try to balance that out a little bit.  Who’s with me?

I guess my childhood appreciation of the original series colored my expectations for the film. No worries, it won’t happen again. At least, until G.I. Joe comes out. And Transformers 2. Ahem.

This post is going to be rife with spoilers, but hey, if you don’t want to see the film (which you shouldn’t), or god forbid, saw it already, then those won’t bother you. Lessons behind the cut. Oh, and yes. I’m discarding my usual “don’t say it if you can’t say something nice” ethos here, because, well, sometimes you wake up on Monday morning and want to tear apart a bad film. Onward!

1. A useful comedic trick: taking something that is supposed to be stupid and making it deviously intelligent

This never fails to crack me up. In Gremlins 2, the Brain gremlin was by far the funniest of the mutated gremlins. Here, the real star of this show, eclipsing Will Ferrel in every way, was the Tyrannosaurus Rex, aka “Grumpy.” Grumpy, right from the beginning, displays uncharacteristic intelligence. He doesn’t speak, but the animators do a great job with the facial expressions, showing comprehension of what Ferrel’s character is saying, and plotting to get that smarmy science bastard no matter what it takes. In one of the few laughs for me, the dinosaur gives Ferrel a present to show just how well he understands what he is saying when lecturing about the T-rex’s mental abilities.

2. Prologues are not always necessary

The film opens not with the cast of characters, or the Matt Lauer Today Show segment drained of all humor by round-the-clock trailers on TV. The film opens with some random astronaut character staggering through a jungle, proclaiming that the scenery doesn’t look like New Mexico, and trying to call back to base on his radio.

In a film like Land of the Lost, opening with this doesn’t serve any storytelling purpose. Everyone knows that the characters are going to end up in the Land of the Lost. And if they don’t, what the hell are they doing watching this film?

I recommend anyone who feels the need to write a prologue to the bulk of their story seriously examine their impulse. Does it really serve a purpose? Good, if so. Use the prologue in this film as an example of what not to do.

3. Slavish devotion to the source material in an adaptation results in a product weaker than the original

But a willingness to alter the source material doesn’t guarantee greatness either.

I read an interview recently, probably via Io9, about how the writer of the film made sure to not familiarize himself with the TV show before doing so. He wanted to write something that captured the essence of his memory of the show, rather than slavishly recreating the original show with a larger budget.

In principle, I agree with this idea, and it’s something I think we SF/F writers could learn from when we write pastiches or homages to Golden Age SF. The idea isn’t to write a story that literally could have been published in the 1950s. The idea is to capture the way that story made you feel when you read it, and to communicate that emotion with something new.

The Land of the Lost TV show is very much a product of its time. A feature length film about a father and his two children would not have been a good comedic vehicle for Will Ferrel. The idea of his character Rick Marshall actually breeding is enough to make me reconsider my stance on forced sterilization.

I don’t think Hollywood figured otu the correct balance of original material with fresh take on something SFnal until the first Spider-Man movie. Before that, they always erred too much in either direction.

4. The female protagonist serves one primary purpose: bait for the male characters in a plot point

Apparently, the primary role of a woman in a story is to provide sexual tension with the lead (a male) and then to be captured by the villain in order to advance the plot in the most ham-fisted method possible.

Okay, no. Don’t do this. Write competent female characters that evade capture. Have them rescue your idiotic male lead. Will Ferrel’s Marshall would be even more appropriately pathetic with his target audience if he was so incompetent that Holly had to rescue him. “Duh huh huh, he got rescued by a girl.”

It’s really time for this hoary plot point to be retired. It’s absolutely the most lazy method of advancing the plot ever. It’s not even used to create rising tension here. It’s just created to nudge the plot, which has sceeched to a halt, back into action.

5. Potty humor never fails

Deus ex machina? How about viri ex dinosaur’s ass? Sorry, my Latin is rusty. Judging from my audience’s reaction, this kind of thing is really funny.

Yeah, okay. Potty humor is funny. But by this point in the film, I had given up all hope of actually laughing at anything.

Okay, so there. I now feel better about having paid to see the film in the theater. At least it was a matinee!

I’m rarely as touched and thrilled by an experience as I am by watching their movies.

1. Writing doesn’t have to be YA, or for Adults. It can be both.

   The book world may have stories divided down lines based on age and level of maturity, but the line between entertainment for adults and entertainment for younger children has never been as blurred as it has been by Pixar’s films. It’s indisputable that their films are popular with children. The sheer volume of Nemo merchandise I see to this day backs up that assertion. At the aquarium, no kid could see the fish from that film without shouting out their names. “Look mommy, Dory!” I listend to variations of this for two hours.

   I think Pixar is the very model of family entertainment–films that can be enjoyed by everyone. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that much of children or YA literature is the same way. There’s a kind of subconcious stigma for adults reading YA fiction in my experience. I saw this often when Harry Potter was popular. Some could not get past the idea that “Harry Potter is for kids.” It’s not. It’s for people who enjoy stories. Just like Pixar’s films. I have a lot of respect for someone who can tell a story so broadly appealing, and personally, I want to learn how to do it too.

2. Don’t Be Afraid to Put Heavy Stuff in a Light-Hearted Story

   This lesson has never been driven home so well as by Up. The protagonist is a widower, and we spend the first 20 minutes getting to know his free-spirited wife. We see their lives pass before our eyes, and when she passes, we feel it deeply. I had a hard time keeping my eyes dry, I admit it.

   Funny without bite is like a fluffy cake. It lacks substance and gravity. The undertones created by the loss of a loved one, absentee fathers, and lifes not lived, those are the things that take an enjoyable story from being fun but forgettable to being great and unforgettable. Make us laugh. Make us cry. Make us laugh and cry in the same breath. If Pixar can do it, we can do it in our stories and novels too.

3. A character’s first interactions can often tell you everything you need to know about them.

   In Wall-E, the first interactions with another creature we see are between the robot and a cockroach. Does Wall-E smash the bug, disgusted? Of course not. He befriends it. The essence of his character is revealed in that simple scene, and we fall for him.

   Pixar’s characters appearances often reflect their personality, something that cannot so easily be done in fiction itself. But it’s not just their appearance. Watch each one of the films. In a few brief moments, we learn that Marlin will do anything for Nemo, that Woody is a leader and likes helping other toys, that Mr. Incredible is a bit full of himself and dismissive of others, but loves his wife, and then, his family, very much, and that Remy loves food. Often, the central conflict of the story arises from this characterization as well. Wall-E needs to love someone, and follows EVE into space itself. Woody butts heads with Buzz. Mr. Incredible makes his own arch-nemesis because of his rudeness. And so on.

4. The work is found in the process of rewriting. Also, write for yourself.

   In this interview with some of Pixar’s writers, a couple of comments really struck home with me, aligning with things I had noticed from watching the Behind-the-Scenes extras on their DVDs. Pixar doesn’t do focus groups. They write what they love. And they rewrite and rewrite until they get it the way they want. The story often changes dramatically in the course of revisions. Sometimes, we get obsessed with our first drafts, and our hopes rise or sink with the relative success of it. I am particularly guilty of giving up on stories when the first draft doesn’t turn out as well as I imagined it.

5. Amazing characters can be born from the simplest of ideas.

   The genesis of the protagonist Walter in Up was a simple sketch of a grumpy old man holding a balloon. “Grumpy old man” is a hoary stereotype, but stereotypes in and of themselves aren’t wrong. It’s stopping with a stereotype is a mistake. From that simple sketch, Pixar build a fully realized and appealing character. They took someone and made him both unpleasant and lovable at the same time.

   Russell, seen right, is designed as a character to counterpoint everything about Walter. He’s round where Walter is angles. He’s kind and innocent and youthful. The contradiction of the essence of these two characters generates much of the humor and the conflict to drive the story.

A Quick Review of Norse Code

Norse Code is Greg’s debut novel, and it’s a fun one. The book focuses on two characters primarily. The first is Mist, a recently recruited Valkyrie who is working for the Norse Code project. The goal of the Norse Code project is to find and recruit the descendants of Odin to prepare for the coming Ragnarok. The second is the itenerant Norse god Hermod, the only living entity to ever travel to Helheim and return.

It’ll come as no surprise to you that the paths of these two protagonists cross in the inevitable run-up to Ragnarok. Along the way, we meet a cast of characters both drawn from Norse mythology and not, but all are  imbued with a peculiar van Eekhout sense of humor. This is not a comedic story exactly, but aspects of it are very funny.

Norse Code does feel at times like a first novel in that you sense the author feels a bit uncertain about the plot in places, but van Eekhout’s willingness to take what you know about Norse mythology and twist it for his needs makes this a hell of a lot of fun to read. Mist and Hermod are heroes in an older sense, not terribly flawed, but simply decent people with rocky pasts determined to do the right thing despite that.

It’s a short read, one I managed to burn through in an afternoon, so you really have no excuse for not picking it up and giving it a try. While the novel didn’t pack the same punch for me as some of Greg’s short stories, it’s a fine first outing and demonstrates that he’s an author to keep Odin’s eye on in the future.

The Interview

Can you share with me a little bit about the day-to-day nuts-and-bolts of your writing process? How did you make time to write the book? How long did it take you to write the book from first conceiving the idea to finishing the book and submitting it for publication?

I used to be able to talk about making time to write with at least some small degree of credibility, because I had a job that often took up way more than forty hours a week, and I still found time to write simply by making sure I started each day with an hour of writing. For me, that kind of consistency was the key. But I don’t have a day job right now and I have the luxury of more writing time, and I don’t blame people if they don’t want to listen to me talk about carving out time and dedication and all that. That being said, people who really want to write find the time, somehow. Maybe by giving up TV or games or whatever. Maybe by devoting one hour before work to writing, as I did. Maybe by writing on their lunch break or on the bus. Maybe by just getting ten minutes here, five minutes there. It adds up. Really, it does.

It took me years and years and years to write Norse Code if you count all the false starts, words that got tossed out (at one point, 30,000 of them in one fell swoop), time squandered thinking about writing the book instead of writing it, and time spent writing short stories and other things because I was stuck on the book. I’m going to say maybe ten years wanting to write Norse Code, and maybe two years actually working on it. Fortunately, the book I wrote after Norse Code went much more quickly and smoothly.

I noticed quite a few L.A. coffee shops mentioned. Are these all real places that you know from growing up in L.A.? We’ve seen the photos you take for each writing session of your empty cups. How many cups of coffee did you drink in the process of writing Norse Code?

I did grow up in L.A., but there really weren’t many coffee joints back then. Instead, we had “spooky houses,” where you were given a pot of a thick, pudding-like beverage, an open flame with which to soften it, and sort of a combination of spoon, fork, and hook, which we called a “spook.” Nonetheless, the coffee houses in Norse Code are real places. I think a conservative estimate for the number of cups of coffee consumed during the composition of Norse Code would be 1,000. It takes a million bad words, 10,000 hours of practice, or 1,000 cups of coffee before you can begin to say you’ve passed out of your apprenticeship. Really, the point of all those pictures of coffee cups next to my computer weren’t to show how much coffee I drink, but just a way of marking the fact that, on the day each photo was posted to my blog, I worked on the book. Just something different than posting a word count.

What kind of research did you do to write the book–it’s clear that you familiarized yourself with Norse mythology. Can you talk about your research process and how it led to the plot you came up with for the book?

The primary materials that give us most of Norse mythology are short and finite: The Elder, or poetic, Edda, and the Younger, or prose, Edda. We’re only talking a few hundred pages here, and they were my chief research materials. H.R. Ellis Davidson also has some good books on Norse mythology, and I used wikipedia and pantheon.org sometimes as well. My method was to read the Eddas and just sort of keep track of things that seemed particularly cool, like wolves eating the moon and stuff like that. Sometimes it just led me to think through the implications of the myth, which made the plot obvious to me. For instance, when you’ve got a story about the end of the world, and the myth tells you some gods are destined to survive it and preside over the world that comes afterwards, you apply a basic what-if to that situation. What if I were a god destined to survive the end of the world and take over rulership? Would I just wait for the end of the world to happen? Would I encourage it along? How would I do that? And so forth.

Some parts of the book seemed a bit truncated, like the Norse Code aspect itself. Did the Norse Code project play a larger part in the book in earlier drafts, and if so, what led to its role being reduced?

I think when you have a book titled Norse Code, people are right to expect a big part of the book to be devoted to Norse Code (which in the book is a genomics operation run by Valkyries). But I never intended that particular aspect of the book to play a huge role. What happened was, the book was called “Greg’s Damn Norse Novel” for most of the time I was writing it. When it came time to submit it, it needed a real title. Norse Code is all I could come up with. I sort of expected the publisher to give me a “real” title, but I guess they were happy with it, so it stuck.

What’s next from Greg in terms of books? It seems that Norse Code is a stand-alone book, which is surprising given all the trilogy deals genre writers seem to be getting lately.

I actually can’t talk about what’s next! I’m not contracted to write anything else for the publisher of Norse Code, though they get first look at the next book I write for adults. But the next thing out from me won’t be a book for adults, and when I’m free to talk about it, you can believe I’ll be Mr. Blabby McInterHype wherever I can.

Is Norse Code your written first novel in addition to being your first published one, or did you write others before selling Norse Code?

Norse Code is actually the second book I’ve finished. Somewhere in the middle of that stalled-out time I mentioned earlier, I wrote a whole other book. That one’s trunked for now, but you never know. Another whack or two at it, and it could possibly be decent enough to try to sell. If not, though, that’s okay. My goal with the currently trunked novel was just to finish a book, so I consider it a success even if it never leaves my hard drive. Writing it gave me the confidence to finish Norse Code, and finishing and selling Norse Code gave me the confidence to write other books, so that first, unsold novel will always be important to me.

Thanks for answering my questions, Greg!  So have any of you read Norse Code? What did you think?

I’ve known Charlie since I started writing through his involvement with the Online Writers Workshop. Charlie was the first professional author I really got to know, and he was immensely helpful in helping me learn the ropes. It’s been really educational to watch his career progress, as he’s always been willing to share the ins and outs of his experiences in publishing.

Let’s talk about the first book, and then head into the interview.

A Quick Review of The Patriot Witch

The first book of his Traitor to the Crown series, The Patriot Witch introduces us to the world of 1770s America on the verge of a war with the Empire. Our protagonist, Proctor Brown, would appear to be your average farmer of the period. He has his wife picked out, plans to expand his farm. He’s a minuteman, but hopes that the scuffle that’s brewing doesn’t turn into a war, but if it does, he’ll clearly side with the patriots. But there’s just one other thing– Proctor Brown is a witch. He’s inherited his ability from his mother, who is originally from Salem, and has kept her talent secret.

When Proctor witnesses the use of magic by a British soldier, he begins to realize that he may have to use his talent and fight magic with magic. And he’s off on a wild adventure that takes him through some of the early battles of the war.

Finlay’s writing is tight, lean prose, and he especially writes action well. I found myself holding my breath a bit during some of the tense battle scenes. One thing that really stood out is that war kills people much more indescriminately than I expected. The protagonist will be having a conversation with someone and then five pages later, their leg will be blown off by a musket. It really drove home the nature of war in this time period for me.

His take on magic is really interesting, and definitely draws from the lore of the time period regarding witches. Proctor is only just learning what magic is capable of, but by the end of the first book, he’s considerably more skilled than before.

The series is made up of 3 books: The Patriot Witch, A Spell for the Revolution, and The Demon Redcoat. The first two books are already released, and the third will be out shortly.

An Interview with C.C. Finlay

Can you share with me a little bit about the day-to-day nuts-and-bolts of your writing process? How did you make time to write the book, with your full family life and a full time job? How long did it take you to write the book from first conceiving the idea to finishing the book and submitting it for publication?

There are four of us at home, including two writers and two teenage boys, all piled up on top of one another. Our house isn’t big enough for us to have a room where Rae (my wife and sometimes co-author, Rae Carson Finlay) or I can get away for enough peace and quiet to write. So when I’m working on something, I either do it late at night after everyone else goes to bed, or I leave the house and find someplace else to work. You’ll see Luck Bros Coffee in Grandview Heights, Ohio, mentioned in the acknowledgements of my books. That’s because I set up office for months in one of their front booths, and they kept me quietly and efficiently supplied with fresh coffee and grilled cheese sandwiches while I wrote.

How did you make time to write the book, with your full family life and a full time job?

The only way to make enough time to write was to take it away from other things. I gave up weekends. I spent my weeks of vacation hunkered over the keyboard. I neglected washing dishes or vacuuming the house. I have three years’ worth of papers spilling out of boxes in need of sorting and filing. But I don’t miss work, and I don’t skip my kids’ soccer games or school plays unless I’m out of town at a convention.

How long did it take you to write the book from first conceiving the idea to finishing the book and submitting it for publication?

Back in 2006, my agent called me and asked if I had any ideas for historical fantasy series. He thought that would take advantage of my background as a historian and play to my strengths as a writer. I didn’t have any ideas at the moment, but I said if he gave me a weekend I’d see what I could come up with.

That was on a Thursday afternoon. By Monday morning, I had a detailed outline for the Traitor to the Crown series. Once I had the idea for a secret history about witches fighting the Revolution, everything sort of clicked into place. Over the next couple weeks, I wrote seventy pages of sample chapters. Then my agent took the series to Del Rey to see if they were interested. The negotiation process took about a year. I rewrote and added to the sample chapters (selling a short story version of it to Fantasy & Science Fiction), did research on the period and on witchcraft, and refined the outlines.

At the beginning of June, 2007, we had a deal. That’s when the writing took off like a rocket. I was supposed to write the three books over nine months. It was closer to eighteen. The second book was the hardest one to pull together. The third book deviated the farthest from the original outline, but all the pieces fell into place. I turned in the final book in January, 2009. So from first concept to all three books finished and published took three years. The actual writing was more like eighteen months.

I know that you’re the founder of the novelist workshop Blue Heaven, with past attendees including Tobias Buckell, Greg van Eekhout and Sarah Prineas, and you thank several of your fellow workshoppers in the acknowledgements. Can you give some specific examples about how the workshop experience improved The Patriot Witch and the subsequent books?

In 2007, I took 114 pages of The Patriot Witch and my outline to Blue Heaven, and I hashed out the strengths and problems of the novel in detail with Greg van Eekhout and Holly McDowell. In 2008, I only had about 250 pages of A Spell for the Revolution done, but Paul Melko and Daryl Gregory put it through the paces and made sure I got on track for the right ending. In both cases, being able to workshop the partial novel and talk about the direction it appeared to be going and the better directions that it could go was essential to my process. I didn’t have time to workshop the third book, but by that time everything felt like it was clicking. And I had Rae to help me as I wrote.

How did you conceive of writing the story of Proctor Brown as a three book series? Was it a decision made by the publisher? Also, can you tell me a little bit about why the books are being released so closely to one another, seperated by only a month?

The Revolution lends itself naturally to a three-part narrative division. The first stage of the war took place in New England, in and around Boston. The second stage of the war involved the overwhelming British victories and Washington’s ultimate recovery in and around New York and New Jersey. The third stage of the war involved the guerrilla conflict in the southern states and diplomacy overseas. There were many volunteers who followed the war from one stage to the next, so it was easy to imagine Proctor as one of those men.

On the publishing side, Del Rey was interested in three books. The number one reason readers buy a book is because they’ve read something else they like by that author. Bringing the books out in quick succession creates a shelf presence and a chance for readers who like the first book to immediately move on to the second. Del Rey had done something similar with the Naomi Novik books and wanted to try it again.

It sounds like, also from your acknoweldgements, that much of the research for the book came easily due to your job as a research assistant. One thing that always strikes me as terrifying about writing stories with a historical basis is getting some of the details wrong. Was your approach here to basically steep yourself so utterly in the time period via primary literature? Did you find any aspects difficult to get “right”?

You’ll always get something wrong. Four different people copy-edited or proofed the book and a couple errors still slipped through. It’s even worse when you’re doing the history because you don’t have someone there to check you on every single detail. Sherwood Smith, in her otherwise favorable review of the book, points out a mistake about young ladies’ headwear in the very first pages.

That said, what I did was spend as much time in primary sources as I could, and not just written sources, but images of the clothing, weapons, and architecture of the period. Whenever I assumed I knew something, I double-checked it, because you make the most mistakes on the things you think you know. I tried to make sure the details enhanced the story, making it vivid and immediate, so I was also ruthless about cutting out information that didn’t drive the narrative forward. In the end, the history must serve the story, not the other way around.

The Traitor to the Crown series marks your first series. Your first novel, The Prodigal Troll, was published by Pyr. What were the professional lessons you learned from your first book that you took and applied in the writing and marketing to publishers of your latest series?

The only lessons that I applied are in the writing of the books. The Prodigal Troll was structured more episodically, with different POV characters that made each section feel like it had come to a full conclusion. That was a natural outgrowth of the lessons I had learned by writing short stories. In the new series, I kept the POV simpler and the narrative whole so that these would be fast-paced books.

I don’t know that I have any useful lessons about marketing to publishers. Lou Anders was just getting Pyr started and he came to me as an up-and-coming author for his debut season. He did everything he could to get The Prodigal Troll in front of readers, and I’m very grateful for the chance I had to work with him. With the new series, it’s a situation where my agent and I were talking with Chris Schluep at Del Rey from the start. Del Rey publishes Naomi Novik, Harry Turtledove, Greg Keyes–it just seemed like a good fit. Luckily, they agreed!

Thanks again to Mr. Finlay for taking the time to answer my questions. I hope that you all check out his books. I can’t recommend the first one enough, and the second title is sitting in front of me as I type this, taunting me.

This book is not a New Cobrazon book. It is not outright fantasy in any way, actually. But it’s still fantastic in a more simple sense of the word. The story is essentially a police procedural, but one set in the kind of city that is distinctly Miévillian.

If there is a common theme among Miéville’s work, I would say that it is “the city as character.” Because even here, the city takes the forefront. Bas Lag, also, in most of that series. China has a preternatural sense for cities, and for what makes them tick. As someone who has never lived in an urban center with more than 100,000 people, I find it utterly fascinating. It’s as exotic as the Far East to me.

The cities of Bezel and Ul Quoma are utterly unique, at least to my experience. I won’t even say another thing about them, because learning about them as I did, with little preconcieved notions, was a great way of experiencing the book. Trust that things are not all that they seem in the opening pages. This is no bog standard police procedural (and that it would been fine if it was). This is something more, distinctly from the author who gave us one of the best cities in fantastic literature.

Am I disappointed that this wasn’t another book set in his wilder, more fantastical universe? Before reading it, yes, I was. Now that I have read the book, no, not even a little bit. This new place will have much more mainstream appeal, and anything that sells more books for Miéville makes it that much more likely we’ll get more fantasy novels–at least I hope so. Miéville clearly has break-out potential with the mainstream, and if I have a fear, it’s that the money will be so much better, he would be a fool not to go down the less fantastic road and to its broader audiences. Everything I have read about China indicates that he would never abandon science fiction and fantasy entirely. So I have to go on faith that he won’t.

But even if he pulls a Lethem, I’ll follow him wherever he goes. I can’t wait to see what’s next.