Posts Tagged ‘My Writing’

Write a Complimentary Note to a Writer or Editor Day

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I am declar­ing today one of those non-​​holiday hol­i­day days.  You must all put this day in your cal­en­dar, and spread the word far and wide.

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?

The Evolutionary Basis for Creative Depression

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Last week, The Economist ran a really fas­ci­nat­ing arti­cle on recent research into the evo­lu­tion­ary ben­e­fits of depres­sion.  Why do we get depressed?  Why did such a trait come to be, and if it’s so detri­men­tal to our health, why hasn’t it been selected against in the population?

Dr Nesse’s hypoth­e­sis is that, as pain stops you doing dam­ag­ing phys­i­cal things, so low mood stops you doing dam­ag­ing men­tal ones—in par­tic­u­lar, pur­su­ing unreach­able goals. Pursuing such goals is a waste of energy and resources. Therefore, he argues, there is likely to be an evolved mech­a­nism that iden­ti­fies cer­tain goals as unat­tain­able and inhibits their pursuit—and he believes that low mood is at least part of that mechanism.

Unobtainable or unre­al­is­tic goals?   Like, say, beat­ing the odds and sell­ing a story to the New Yorker?  Or sell­ing a screen­play to Hollywood for 6 fig­ures?  Or how about win­ning a Hugo award before you turn 30?  Could this explain why an unusu­ally high num­ber of artists and cre­ative types suf­fer from depression?

Creativity is often all about unre­al­is­tic goals.  The prob­lem is, with­out them, we would not strive to achieve the things we do finally achieve.  Aim for the stars, shoot for the moon, as they say.  So, depres­sion is tied directly to our ambi­tion and stick-​​to-​​it-​​iveness?  From the article:

Dr Nesse believes that per­sis­tence is a rea­son for the excep­tional level of clin­i­cal depres­sion in America—the coun­try that has the high­est depres­sion rate in the world. “Persistence is part of the American way of life,” he says. “People here are often dri­ven to pur­sue overly ambi­tious goals, which then can lead to depres­sion.” He admits that this is still an unproven hypoth­e­sis, but it is one worth con­sid­er­ing. Depression may turn out to be an inevitable price of liv­ing in a dynamic society.

Depression, an inevitabil­ity of a dynamic soci­ety and a cre­ative lifestyle?  What do you think?  Is it pos­si­ble that those of us who suf­fer so much “cre­ative” anguish would be much hap­pier with our lives if we aimed lower?  But would that just be giv­ing up, and just as bad as being depressed?  Which is worse, a lack of ambi­tion or being depressed?

Revising Short Fiction is for Suckers

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I’ve heard a lot of dif­fer­ent opin­ions on the sub­ject of revi­sion over the years. The one that has stuck with me was the opin­ion of, I think it was Heinlein. This author wrote one draft, dropped it in the mail, and never looked back. I don’t know what his rea­sons for this were, but I know what a mod­ern writer’s rea­sons would be, espe­cially when it comes to short fiction.

It’s all about time man­age­ment and cost/​benefit analy­sis. Because sto­ries are pur­chased not based on the time it took to write them but how many words they con­tain, the actual hourly wage you make varies depend­ing on how much time you spend on a story. And the more time you spend, the less money you’re making.

For exam­ple, I gen­er­ally write first drafts at a speed of 1000–2000 words an hour. At a mod­er­ately decent payrate of 5 cents a word, that puts me at $50 an hour, if I were to sell my first draft. That’s a very nice hourly wage. Each draft you do, and each hour you spend rework­ing your draft, is reduc­ing your poten­tial hourly income. Spend as much time revis­ing as you did writ­ing the story, and now you’ve cut your hourly in half. Spend three times as long revis­ing the story as you did writ­ing it and now we’re talk­ing work­ing at McDonalds wages. I guess it’s bet­ter than dig­ging ditches.

However, I per­son­ally am not a writer who can churn out a sell­able first draft. I find the story in revi­sion, much like Pixar does. Partly this is because I often start writ­ing a story before the idea has fully fer­mented. Partly this is because I write so fast when I am on the first draft that I miss good oppor­tu­ni­ties. It’s only in sub­se­quent drafts that I can tweak the machin­ery of story into a form that actu­ally runs.

When I first started out writ­ing, I was with Heinlein all the way. One draft, and be done with it. And I sold a cou­ple. I also never sold dozens. When you think about it, was that really mak­ing me any more money as a writer? Almost cer­tainly not. It’s prob­a­bly a wash, if I sat down to fig­ure it out.

These days, I not only redraft and redraft, I also sit on sto­ries for months or years. Yesterday, I broke out a story that I wrote almost 2 years ago and began revis­ing. It’s prob­a­bly now on draft 5 or 6. And it’s most likely still not there.

These days, I’m much more con­cerned with mak­ing money from my writ­ing than I was before. That’s because I have no reg­u­lar source of income. So I’m look­ing at the Heinlein way again. It’s wish­ful think­ing though. I’m not a first draft writer, and that’s okay. Even if my hourly wage works out to be some­thing akin to min­i­mum wage, it’s still bet­ter work than just about any job that actu­ally pays min­i­mum wage. Unless that job has health insurance.

What’s your approach to revis­ing? What’s the longest you’ve ever tin­kered with a piece before send­ing it out?

A Schedule Change

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This is just a quick note to let you all know that I’m pulling back a lit­tle bit on my sched­ule of writ­ing for the blog here in order to give myself more time to think through the posts.  I’ll be post­ing on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for sure.  Tuesdays and Thursdays will be “maybe” days and might just involve me post­ing pho­tographs or less intensive-​​to-​​write news updates and such.  More impor­tantly, I’ll be blog­ging on Tuesdays and Thursdays start­ing soon over at  Clockpunk Studios about web design, online mar­ket­ing, and var­i­ous things that are bet­ter suited for the busi­ness site.

An Interview with Fantasy Author C. C. Finlay (with a side of review)

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Charles Coleman Finlay is an author you are famil­iar with if you’ve read more than a cou­ple of issues of the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. His recent story, “The Political Prisoner” was a Nebula Award nom­i­nee and is cur­rently a Hugo Nominee and a Sturgeon nom­i­nee. And of course, it’ll be in the next vol­ume of Gardner Dozois’ Year’s Best.

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.

On Recreating the Shower Creativity Surge (minus water)

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I know I am not the only writer who finds that inpira­tion oftens strikes in the bath. I’ve had a num­ber of con­ver­sa­tions with fel­low writ­ers about how strange it seems that some of our best ideas come to us at that moment. I can think of a cou­ple of the­o­ries as to why this happens:

  • The time of the day that you shower is par­tic­u­larly con­du­sive to cre­ative think­ing. I shower first thing in the morn­ing, and I know my cre­ative brain is a lit­tle bit stronger when the ana­lyt­i­cal brain is still swip­ing away the pre­vi­ous night’s cob­webs and puz­zling over what the hell those rab­bits on stilts were doing in that last dream.
  • The white noise sound gen­er­ated by the shower puts us into a par­tic­u­lar brain wave state or something.
  • The absence of dis­trac­tion from elec­tron­ics and media and every­thing allows us to actu­ally think freely. Personally, it is the only time in the day that I am not inter­act­ing with some kind of elec­tronic device. If I’m not on the com­puter, I’m watch­ing TV, or read­ing a book, and my iPhone is never more than a reach away. Basically, dis­trac­tions abound.

It is hard to say which of these three aspects are most directly respon­si­ble for that cre­ative burst, so I am going to try and recre­ate the expe­ri­ence with a few mod­i­fi­ca­tions to make it eas­ier to actu­ally cap­ture the ideas that come from it. One of the biggest prob­lems i have with hav­ing inspiri­a­tion then is that I can’t remem­ber it long enough to get it down on the com­puter or paper. Someone sug­gested putting in some kind of mark­ers or bath­room crayons in the tub so that you can write it out on the wall, but as I rent, I don’t want to deal with any poten­tial dis­as­ters there. So:

  1. Roll out of bed first thing and into the office. Turn on a white noise gen­er­at­ing pro­gram, or a long record­ing of rain.
  2. Turn off the inter­net con­nec­tion. Load up a full screen wordprocessor
  3. See what happens.

I will be attempt­ing this exper­i­ment in the next cou­ple of weeks, and will report back when I’ve gath­ered enough data to deter­mine whether it’s help­ful. If you want to join in, please do so. More peo­ple attempt­ing to do this could result in a bet­ter per­spec­tive on the phenomenon.

Photo by Flickr user Turyddu

Kristine Kathryn Rusch on Staying Positive

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I need to take a short break from writ­ing blog posts today so that I can fin­ish up my new busi­ness web­site and get things rolling on it.  Instead, today, I offer you this link from Rusch:

Remaining pos­i­tive sounds like such a minor thing. Yet it is the key to every­thing. Oddly enough, suc­cess­ful free­lancers are the most cyn­i­cal, hard-​​bitten opti­mists in the entire world.

We have to be. Who would believe in us if we didn’t believe in ourselves?

No one dis­cusses remain­ing pos­i­tive at a day job, unless it is a require­ment of that day job. When I worked as a wait­ress, I had to smile at the cus­tomers and be nice. It was in the job descrip­tion. The same rules applied, per­haps more strin­gently, at my very first retail job. We had to be so incred­i­bly nice at that store that we were required (again, as part of the job descrip­tion) to wish each and every cus­tomer a very nice day.

It’s a great post, and I highly rec­om­mend you head over and read it.

On the Amazon Kindle 2 Controversy

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Some authors have posited that hav­ing an ebook reader able to con­vert words into sounds on the fly is a good thing.  See Neil Gaiman.  Others have argued that such tech­nol­ogy should be cov­ered under audio­book rights.  And Wil Wheaton has cre­ated an audio com­par­i­sion between a human read­ing a book and the Kindle.

What a load of greedy bull­shit, and per­haps the most bone­headed idea to come along since those self-​​destructing DVDs called Div.     I’m a writer.  I like money.  I don’t get much of it for my work.  You would think that I would agree with any­thing that stands to make me more money, but I am not an insane greedy mon­key.  I am also a reader and a con­sumer and the think­ing behind this atti­tude is utterly ridicu­lous.  In case you haven’t fig­ured it out yet, I come down firmly on Neil Gaiman’s side on this.

This “par­cel out the means in which media can be con­sumed to squeeze out dimes” approach to lit­er­a­ture is going to do NOTHING but alien­ate con­sumers.  Here’s why:

When we buy a book, we believe that we can do what­ever  we want with it short of print­ing up copies and sell­ing them.  We reject any notion of tech­nol­ogy being used to arti­fi­cially limit our rights to media.  DRM is dead, just ask the RIAA.   We want to share and we want to remix.   It’s been demon­strated time and time and time again across all media.   You can­not fight the use of tech­nol­ogy to inter­act with media with more, evil tech­nol­ogy.  It’s a per­ver­sion of the nat­ural state and it NEVER lasts.  The sys­tem always rights itself.  The human infor­ma­tion net­work routes around things like DRM and arti­fi­cial rights as if they are dam­age.   All you do is frus­trate your hon­est con­sumers and waste money.

If it can be con­sumed by the human mind, it can be shifted, trans­lated, trans­mit­ted, and and all those other things that tech­nol­ogy inher­ently makes pos­si­ble and makes greedy bas­tards wake up in a cold sweat, afraid that some­where, some­one is using their “prop­erty”  in a man­ner for which they could have tried to rape your wal­let.  No.  We as con­sumers are not going to put up with it.   We haven’t been putting up with it.

When we buy an audio book, we are NOT buy­ing the book.  We are buy­ing a record­ing of a per­for­mance of the book.  It is a dis­tinct enough entity from a book that I believe the rights do deserve to be sold seper­ately.  But the text itself, that’s just one right, as far as I am con­cerned.  You sell me access to the text, and  I will do what­ever I want with it.  I will cut up your book’s pages and make a hat.  I will scan it with an OCR and put it in my per­sonal data­base.  I will even give the book away to a friend when I am done with it if I don’t want it tak­ing up space any­more.    You can’t stop me.  Publishing indus­try, seri­ously, with the decline of read­er­ship and sales, is this what you want to be spend­ing man-​​hours on?  Finding ways to LIMIT the ways that peo­ple can inter­act with your products?

With read­er­ship falling like a fuck­ing stone, with every­thing else that is going on today thanks to the Depression-​​like econ­omy, the pub­lish­ing indus­try has big­ger things to worry about than a text-​​to-​​speech func­tion, some­thing my com­puter has been capa­ble of since 1997!   Just because Amazon adds it to a ridicu­lously expen­sive e-​​reader doesn’t mean now it’s sud­denly time to hyper­ven­ti­late and claim that rights are being tram­pled and money is being lost.

If I was pres­i­dent of the Author’s Guild, I’d be focus­ing my energy on fig­ur­ing out how to get my mem­bers works printed on cereal boxes and bill­boards.  Massive dis­sem­i­na­tion, through any chan­nel I can think of.    I would be doing every­thing in my power to encour­age read­ing.  The money will fol­low if you just let peo­ple get on with the act of con­sum­ing the ideas.   We don’t mind pay­ing, but we will not be gauged repeat­edly for the access to the same material.

Anyone who thinks that the Kindle’s text-​​to-​​speech func­tion is more akin to a per­for­mance and less equiv­a­lent to show­ing some words on a screen–well, there’s not much hope for you as far as I can tell.  I hope you enjoy frus­tra­tion, because I pre­dict an awful lot of it in your future on this issue.

Jason Stoddard is Wrong about Science Fiction

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Jason has a nice post up about the demands placed on sci­ence fic­tion writ­ers who write believ­able near-​​future SF today.  You should read it.  I think he’s wrong, but you should read it.*

I think focus­ing on the sci­ence aspects of sci­ence fic­tion is miss­ing the point.  Science fic­tion is fic­tion first, and only tan­gen­tially about sci­ence.  Some of my favorite SF tales arguably have zero sci­ence in them.  I’d even go so far as to say sci­ence fic­tion is just a genre of fic­tion with a set of tropes that some­times involve sci­ence, or the future, but doesn’t always, and doesn’t have to.  But let’s focus on the idea of near-​​future SF.  It’s a small sub­set of what’s writ­ten, but it is a subset.

Jason says:

To write fully believ­able, near future sci­ence fic­tion today, you almost need to be vora­cious anti­so­cial poly­math, deeply con­ver­sant in half a dozen tech­ni­cal fields, as well as famil­iar with ongo­ing social, eco­nomic, and envi­ron­men­tal change.

First of all, to have any kind off suc­cess­ful writ­ing career, you need to be some­what anti­so­cial because you rarely make enough money to do it full time, which means you use leisure time to do it, and often a lot of leisure time, which means you won’t be see­ing your friends much.  It’s a soli­tary pur­suit for the most part.  But that’s not what I wanted to say about that quote.  This is:

I take excep­tion to is the notion that you need to be deeply con­ver­sant in any­thing.  I think you just need to do research to the point where what you have to say doesn’t break the sus­pen­sion of dis­be­lief and I think that’s a long ways from being a poly­math.   You don’t need to be an expert on any­thing but people.

One of the appeals to a cer­tain kind of writer of SF is that they get to do research.  These writ­ers some­times have a ten­dency to inflict their research upon the reader whether it mat­ters or not.  As I get older, I care a lot less about the believ­abil­ity of the sci­ence in my sto­ries than I do about the actual story and the char­ac­ters.  I was recently read­ing a nice space opera by a friend of mine, and as I was dig­ging through info-​​term-​​dense para­graph after para­graph talk­ing about tech­nolo­gies under­ly­ing star­ship mechan­ics and such, I thought–I have been con­di­tioned to find this accept­able in a story, I kind of enjoy it because I am a big nerd, but I don’t think it makes the story any bet­ter.  Senswunda’s one thing–I dig that.  But I only care about the details so long as they relate to the core of the story, and a lot of times in this kind of SF, they don’t.  The Analog mafia might like that sort of thing, but I don’t.  I don’t need equa­tions in my fic­tion, and I rarely find that they improve it.

I also don’t like my SF to be pred­ica­tive.  I don’t like it to be real­is­tic, nec­es­sar­ily.  Neither does most of the world.  Your sci­ence fic­tion does not need to be well-​​researched, and you do not need to be an expert on quan­tum mechan­ics to write sci­ence fic­tion.  In fact, I would argue that the more con­ver­sant you are in these details, and the more you force into your novel or story, the smaller your audi­ence is.  Star Wars doesn’t trou­ble itself with the mechan­ics of FTL.  It’s pretty damned suc­cess­ful with audiences.

Jason con­cludes with a very nice zinger:

Otherwise, your fic­tion will soon read like that Golden Age lit, filled with space­ships manned by human cal­cu­la­tors and spin­ning reels of tape.

That’s the uni­ver­sal fail­ing of ALL near-​​future SF, no mat­ter how well researched it is.  They couldn’t get it right when tech­nol­ogy wasn’t accel­er­at­ing as fast in the 50s, and near-​​future SF writ­ers are prob­a­bly not get­ting it right now either with things clip­ping along faster.  So why bother?  Getting it “right” is not the point.  It shouldn’t be about any­thing the now through the lens of tools that SF has devel­oped.  You can say things about the future that you can’t say about the present. Projecting those com­ments onto the future gives you a lit­tle dis­tance to say those things.  That’s the pri­mary rea­son we set stuff in the future.  It might as well all be alter­nate his­tory, or alter­nate uni­verse sto­ries. The inclu­sion of alt his­tory in the SF greater genre just proves my point here.  You can’t write a What-​​If story with­out extrap­o­lat­ing from the present (or past).  It’s an exam­i­na­tion of what the truth really is through the fic­tion of what wasn’t or what could be (a depar­ture from the truth).

If you’re intim­i­dated by the accel­er­at­ing advance of the future, don’t let that stop you from writ­ing SF.  You don’t have to write it that way.  Personally, I take great enjoy­ment in throw­ing real­ity out the win­dow when I write my SF.    SF has only ever been about believ­abil­ity to a small sub­set of read­ers.  Believability in the con­text of tech, any­way.  It, like all lit­er­a­ture, does revolve around the believ­abil­ity of human action and emo­tion, how­ever.  Keep that in mind and you’ll write great fic­tion, and very few peo­ple will care about that other stuff. Nobody looks at the tech in 1984 and com­plains about it.

By now you should real­ize that I don’t really think Jason is wrong.  I just wrote that head­line to get your atten­tion so you could watch me hash out for myself what I think is impor­tant about sci­ence fic­tion.  Jason and every­one else who wants to can go about try­ing to mas­ter every field they want to include in their fic­tion, and try to make the near-​​future believ­able with mul­ti­ple points of advance­ment. I applaud it.  A not-​​small num­ber of peo­ple will read it and enjoy it, maybe includ­ing myself from time to time. They’ll almost cer­tainly get some­thing wrong and some  will bitch and moan about it too.  I just don’t find these kinds of sto­ries very mem­o­rable.  You might get lucky and nail some pre­dic­tion on the head and then become a foot­note in his­tory for hav­ing some fore­sight (see Arthur C. Clarke and the prediction/​invention of satel­lites. We know he did it, but I couldn’t tell you in what story).  But you don’t need it to write good stories.

My opin­ion and approach? Forget all of that.  The core of a story is time­less, and none of that really mat­ters.  Understand peo­ple before you under­stand quan­tum mechan­ics or net­work infra­struc­ture.  That’ll take you much fur­ther in fic­tion than any other knowl­edge set.  Senswunda exists inde­pen­dently of pre­dic­tion, and that is what mat­ters to me.  If that makes me more of a fan­tasy writer than a SF writer, then so be it.

So no, Jason Stoddard is not really wrong.  He’s just wrong for me.  You can make up your own mind about what you think.