Ten Books That Stuck With Me

Earlier this week, I got tagged over on Facebook with that "list ten books that stuck with you" meme, and I listed ten books with little additional commentary, save to note that "stuck with you" does not mean the same thing as "loved".

Here's the list:

1. Watership Down - Richard Adams
2. The Belgariad - David Eddings
3. Jitterbug Perfume - Tom Robbins
4. Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
5. World According to Garp - John Irving
6. Caves of Steel - Isaac Asimov
7. The Green-Sky Trilogy - Zilpha Keatley Snyder
8. Guns, Germs and Steel - Jared Diamond
9. Time Enough For Love - Robert Heinlein
10. ...And Eternity - Piers Anthony 

I should note that the first seven are all books I first read between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.  I would have a hard time isolating exactly when I read which for most-- I know Green-Sky Trilogy was around seventh grade, Belgariad was the summer I was sixteen-- but they all were formative-reading-years books.  And those two-- both series, but the sort of series that are essentially One Big Story-- are the most Traditional Fantasy on this list.  Well, Belgariad is traditional fantasy.  Green-Sky is more Traditional Fantasy with New Age Sci-Fi hidden inside it like a Russian Nesting Doll. 

I've talked before about how Watership Down is one of my favorite books of all time.  And this book is really the Fantasy Epic that resonates the most with me.  It's sweeping in scope while being deeply personal, and it's filled with worldbuilding top to bottom.  The fact that it's a cast of rabbits is almsot incidental.  And despite being often labeled as a "children's book"-- mostly because back then a fantasy novel or a novel with a cast of rabbits would never be designated anything else-- it's filled with maturity and complexity.  I re-read it every few years and still find new discoveries.

Jitterbug Perfume is also fantasy, but you won't find it on those shelves, mostly because Tom Robbins is Tom Robbins and he's pretty much his own genre.  But a story about a man who lives a thousand years, and occasionally hangs out with the god Pan?  Yeah, that's a fantasy book.  World According to Garp isn't genre at all, save for crafting an alternate history where Jenny Fields is a major political figure, and there's an extreme feminist movement that involves cutting one's own tongue out.  But it is a book that's almost entirely character study, really forsaking anything resembling a traditional plot.  It takes a special talent to make that engaging, and it was one I attempted to emulate in early versions of trunked novels. 

Caves of Steel is here as the standard-bearer for all the Asimov I read, which includes the rest of the Robot books and the Foundation books, and scores of short stories.  Caves also stuck with me because it showed me that with sci-fi (and fantasy), a simple plot like a murder mystery can be the gateway into a strongly built world.  You can take two cops solving a murder and put it anywhere and have the promise of a good story.

Hitchhikers is just plain fun, and it was definitely an early influence.  I think somewhere in a box I have a hand-written start-of-a-novel from my teenage years that was, without any doubt, Hitchhikers with the serial numbers filed off.  My one vaguely clever idea in that was that no other civilization in the galaxy had mastered Visine, so having a small bottle in his pocket gave my protagonist a significant amount of wealth on other worlds.

Guns, Germs and Steel I've talked about several times here, and it's the only non-fiction book here.  It formed the template for my worldbuilding ideas, beyond simplistic things like, "Here is the psuedo-Europe, here is the psuedo-Arabia, etc...".

And then there are the last two, which "stuck with me" entirely for bad reasons.  Both represent authors and/or stories that just went off the rails in such a train-wreck fashion that they actually angered me.  And strangely, both of them involve immoral sex and time travel. 

...And Eternity is the seventh and sort-of-final* book in his Incarnations of Immortality series, a series that starts relatively strong with In A Pale Horse (or at least did to my teenage self), and wavers up and down before crashing into the ground with this book.  There's a lot wrong with it, such as a climax where one character's prophesized "saving the world" from the first book turns out to be casting a deciding vote in the Senate on whether or not God is Dead (and said vote actually removes God, as the Incarnation of Good, from his place so a new person can fill it... it's very strange.)  But the real Oh My God What element for me involves one of the main characters: a 15-year-old prostitute, who over the course of the book gets cleaned up and straightened out by two ghosts, and then takes up a romantic relationship with a judge.  Yes, a fifteen-year-old-girl and a judge.  But he justifies what he's doing to himself because the fifteen-year-old girl essentially time-travelled ahead four years.  So even though he knows she's only fifteen, on paper she's nineteen, so he decides what he's doing is fine.  

Time Enough For Love has a different kind of skeezy.  There you have two-thousand-year-old Lazarus Long in the 41st century, more or less ready to finally give up and die, because he's done everything he can do, so what else is there?  What else is there?  Why, there's new theories that might make time travel practical, for one!  Once Lazarus learns this, he's got a new spring in his step.  He's back to being alive and vital, so he can finally cross the final frontier: going back in time to seduce his own mother.  The last third of the book is entirely about that.

So those last two books had a valuable lesson: Writers can let you down, and hard.

--
*- In that Anthony wrote an eighth book many years later, which I never read, but I'm given to understand it doesn't so much continue the story as shade in more background detail.

Perils of the Writer: Real World Politics and SF/F

I don't usually bring up real-world politics here.  But it's been drumming around the circle for a while now, so I might as well address it. I might be something of a rare bird in this industry, in that I'm on friendly terms with people with vastly varying political leaning.  People who I disagree with, even vehemently.  And don't get me wrong, I do love occasionally getting into it, politically speaking, as long as it's a good argument, and not just yelling, "You're wrong!" back and forth. 

But let's not confuse politics for behavior.

Because there are plenty of people-- people on the far left and far right, frankly-- who gleefully act like assholes, and then when called on that behavior, use their political affiliation as a shield.  "Oh, you're coming after me because of my beliefs!"  Terms like "witch hunt" are used, because it's easier to hide behind that, make yourself a victim, instead of acknowledging: hey, I'm acting like an asshole.

It's so much easier to act like you're being persecuted.

But if you act like an asshole-- and believe me, I've been there: back in my twenties I'm sure I had some Grade A moments-- people will and should call you on it, and it's disingenuous to say it's because of your politics.  You know why?  Because I know people with the same political lean who aren't assholes, so it's clearly not some sort of obligatory behavior based on political opinion.

I am all for people wearing their politics on their sleeves.  And put it in your fiction.  Have your fiction be a full-on polemic; rip your political opinion off your sleeve and shove it down my throat.  Politics I agree with, politics I don't agree with.  Go full out.

All I ask is that it actually be a good read, too, you know?

Which brings me around to the Hugo Nomination thing.  I want to believe that people who nominate things do so in good faith, even if they are politically motivated.  I haven't read Larry Correia's Warbound-- or anything else by him-- but I've seen enough people praise the books.  He was nominated for the Campbell a couple of years ago.  I can honestly believe that there are plenty of fans who really liked his book and feel it deserving of a "Best Novel" award, even if their reasoning was motivated by politics.

However, I actually read “Opera Vita Aeterna” by Vox Day.  Now, I won't go into Mr. Day's personal history or anything-- it's out there and well documented, and you don't need me to give you an opinion on him.  You have your opinion, one way or another.    But here's the thing about “Opera Vita Aeterna": it's just poor writing.   Overly florid, trying-too-hard writing that, if I were in critique-teacher mode I would have made a lot of red-pen marks on. 

I get, as a matter of principle, wanting more stories with an explicitly conservative or religious message to them. I get wanting those stories to be lauded and nominated for awards.  If that's your political or theological lean, then of course you want to see that.  But given that, why would you hitch your wagon to a work that is so mediocre and hold it up as a shining example of the sort of thing you want to see?  What do you gain by that?

Worldbuilding: Integrating the Top Down and the Bottom Up

I'll fully admit, the worldbuilding work I've done for the Banshee space-opera verse has was done in a strange way.  Namely, I did a combination of top-down and bottom-up building. 

To define these terms: top-down building is when you make first big decisions about the different cultures, borders and interactions, and then build the map to meet those needs.  Bottom-up building is when you create the map first, and then figure out cultures, borders and interactions based on what the map demands.

Neither approach is right or wrong, good or bad.  They're just different ways to go about it.  In fact, I advocate the hybrid approach.

In this case, the "top down" involved the decisions about some of the alien cultures closest to Earth.  I knew one thing I wanted was a large Alliance in close proximity to Earth, who had taken a preservationist/non-interference attitude to the planetbound cultures in their spheres of influence.  I knew I wanted an aggressively expansionist culture (the Paxin) and an imperialist culture (the Surani), and a recent interstellar addition who would give the humans a good fight (the Krek'nik). 

Also, in general, I wanted our interstellar region to be filled with intelligent life that was all, more or less, in the same place-- i.e. everyone had gotten into space or could potentially get into space within a few centuries of each other (or in the case of the three "old" powers in the region, a few millennia)-- which, in cosmic terms is the blink of an eye and highly improbably, unless you incorporate a serious don't-poke-this-too-hard conceit.  Which I did. 

But, in terms of "bottom up", I knew I wanted the stellar geography to be sensible.  Real stars where they really are. Now, this meant I probably did a bit of homeworld-fudging-- I'm given to understand that Procyon is probably too young a star to have a planet with advanced life on it, for example-- but that fulfilled at least a sense of verisimilitude.

But the other "bottom up" aspect I had to ask myself was-- what else was out there?  I had the raw data on stars within 150 light-years of Earth, and from that, crafted some randomization for each star:  Are there planets?  Where are the planets?  Do any have life?  Is that life intelligent?  How technologically advanced is that intelligent life?  Have they achieved FTL travel, and if so, when?  From all that, I could build up exact details of the 147 starfaring cultures, and how their potential interaction might be.

This bottom-up method gave me the opportunity come up with ideas that I might never have had without star-map based data fueling it.  Seven alien cultures in relative proximity to each other form a loose coalition.  One advanced culture with no one in proximity builds a sizable empire before encountering any pushback.  Another with a powerful aggressive species nearby builds their culture on defending themselves. 

From this, I found more interesting discoveries.  I devised a little equation based on expansion (how many colonies or outposts a culture had) and their tech level, and were able to calculate who the true "First Level" powers in the region were.  And from that, I've been putting together how the Astronomical Geopolitics (Astropolitics?) really work. 

I'd like to think doing that work-- while anal and time-consuming-- has created something a little more organic than just a top-down alone process would have.

Where is the next Star Trek?

Something occurred to me recently: we haven't had a successful show about humanity's future in outer space on television since 2005, and that with a very broad definition of "successful".  Before you say "Battlestar Galactica" or one of the Stargate variants-- neither of those technically qualify.  BSG, strictly speaking, is set in the distant past (sorry, spoilers), and Stargate is more in an alt-present than the future.  The last real attempt was the interesting failure "Defying Gravity" in 2009, and even that was set entirely within the confines of the Solar System. 

In the 1990s, we had three iterations of Star Trek, Babylon 5 and Andromeda. in the first half of the next decade: yet another Trek, Firefly and Farscape*.

So where is the next Star Trek?

Now, so I'm clear, I'm not talking about another iteration of Trek itself.  Not that I would object, mind you, but I'm not sure what form it would take, given the baggage of five different series, and even the rebooted movies come laden with baggage.

But it doesn't need to be Trek-- which Babylon 5 and Firefly proved.  It can be its own new thing, a brand new vision of the future.  In fact, that would probably be best.

So why hasn't it been done?  I mean, it's not like anyone says, "Well, we don't need another cop show" or "we don't need another lawyer show". 

I think there is a huge audience out there hungry for something new that would appeal to fans of Trek (and B5, Farscape, Firefly, BSG, and so on.)  So I'm downright surprised that no one has tried to capitalize on it.  And it can be presented in an entirely new way, because the television landscape has changed radically since any of those shows have gone off the air.  I'm also surprised that no one seems to be hungry to do it. 

My first rule of writing, in terms of what I write, is "write what I would want to read".  I don't bother with trend-chasing or mimicking others or even what's necessarily "sellable"-- just that simple rule that I would want to read it.  If it's something I'm geeked out on, then that passion would come through, and readers would be into it as well.

That's what's at the core of the universe I built for Banshee, my simmering on the backburner work-in-progress.  It's a vision of the future that's not Trek (or B5, Farscape, Firefly, BSG, etc.), but would appeal to the fans of those things. 

But in the mean time, I wouldn't mind seeing a new show.  Trek or otherwise.


---
*- True, Farscape is also an "alt-present". 

Worldbuilding: Aliens and Daily Rhythms of Life

So: get up in the morning, shower, dress, breakfast.  Commute to work, work throughout the morning, take some time for lunch, back to work until the end of the evening.  Commute home, have dinner, attend to duties of household and family, engage in some sort of minor recreation activity before settling down for (preferably) eight hours of sleep to repeat the following morning.

An average day for the average person in modern day North America.

But if you expand it to all the humans on Earth, then it's a different story.  Different rhythms, different daily rituals.  Although most humans prefer to operate in the daytime and sleep at night, even that is hardly universal. 

So, of course, for alien species, the "daily" rhythm is going to be something quite different.  Even what might be considered a "day" to them could be very different, depending on their biological needs and the rotation of their homeworld. 

I started thinking about this more and more with Banshee.  As with many things in that work, I thought about something that was sort of taken for granted on Star Trek, and inverted it.  Namely, the way the time schedules work.  Sure, they use "star dates", so it isn't just exclusively using the Gregorian Calendar, but the day-to-day is still very human.  Life on the Enterprise or Voyager is still a 24-hour day*, and the duty roster is split into three eight-hour shifts.  There's still a "night" shift**, which is incredibly arbitrary in space.   It's not like things are quieter or less active because of when you decided to schedule your sleeptime.

But what's fascinating is, at least on Trek, there isn't even much lip-service to the idea that Klingons, Vulcans, Trill or any other species might be on a different life-cycle.  One exception: Phlox on Enterprise, whose need for sleep is essentially a six-day hibernation every year. 

Now, part of the fun I've had on Banshee involved taking that to an extreme: you have a ship with eleven different species, and each species is on a different rhythm.  To the point that the higher-ups don't even bother setting a schedule or "ship's time".  You need to sleep, eat, or deal with other biological functions?  Go ahead.  That's your priority, and you deal with it as you need.  It's not for anyone else to say you can't do that.

For a human officer, used to a strict regiment and set duty roster... that's very disconcerting.  But that's part of what she needs to learn to deal with.



---
*- On Deep Space Nine, they at least had a 26-hour day, which was based on Bajor, but even still: hours.  And the rest still applies.
**- "Night" shift might be on some universal-ship time throughout Starfleet, but it seems to be more, "When the Captain is sleeping, that's the night shift". 

Jump the Black- 2013 in Review, Part One

On January 1st, 2013, I sold Jump the Black to Rick Klaw's Texas-themed sci-fi anthology Rayguns Over Texas, which was my first pro-level genre sale.*

I haven't ever really talked about the story itself, as it didn't seem appropriate when I first sold it. 
When it was coming out, it made more sense to talk about the anthology as a whole. 

I should preface this by saying I'm really not a short-story writer.  It's just not a format I have a lot of affinity for, and I don't tend to write them without a specific purpose or plan.  However, "invited to submit to this anthology" works very well as a specific purpose or plan. 

So, I received the invite and remembered a nugget of an idea that I had had for a sci-fi story.  It was little more than this: A sci-fi future with a large interstellar, multi-alien community, but Earth isn't a part of it.  Earth is the place you leave to have opportunity.  Earth is Mexico.

I did some research into border crossings, the lengths people go to in order to get in the States.  I thought about "coyotes"-- those who "help" others get across the border, and the methods they use to do it.  The conditions people will submit themselves to, the trust they will place on those bringing them, and the hope that when they emerge on the other side that an opportunity will be there that will make it all worth it.





And I wanted something in there that could be a direct allegory to swimming across the Rio Grande. Thus "jumping the black"-- where the smuggled humans, freshly awoken from the paralytic "sleep" they were put in to avoid getting noticed by the scans-- have to leap through empty space from the smuggler's cargo hold to a port left open on the space station, so that they're off the smuggler's ship before his cargo gets inspected.  If the humans jumping don't make it safely... that's their problem.  Also, if they get caught right when they get in the station, their problem. 

I really enjoyed writing this, and it definitely clicked one big button for me: I could write a lot more of it.  I kept it at 4000 words to make it fit easily in the anthology, but I could easily expand the story to novella length, building out what happens next once the humans make it off the rock.

But, as I said, selling that on January 1st was an excellent way to start 2013, and I was quite pleased to see it in print in September.

--
*- My story for The Norton Anthology of Hint Fiction was paid at over a dollar per word, but it was only 21 words long.  Twenty-two with the title.  But it wasn't genre.

A Rare Moment of Blatant Plugging: Give the Gift of Texas this Christmas

Folks: Christmas is coming, and I'm busy keeping balls in the air this week, so let's keep this short and sweet.

What are you giving your Science Fiction reading friends and family for Christmas this year?  Consider the merits of giving Rayguns Over Texas, a compilation of science-fiction short stories entirely by Texas writers. 

It's quite an impressive line-up of writers and stories, if I do say so myself. 

•     “Pet Rock” by Sanford Allen
•     “Defenders of Beeman County” by Aaron Allston
•     “TimeOut” by Neal Barret, Jr.
•     “Babylon Moon” by Matthew Bey
•     “Sovereign Wealth” by Chris N. Brown
•     “La Bamba Boulevard” by Bradley Denton
•     “The Atmosphere Man” by Nicky Drayden
•     “Operators Are Standing By” by Rhonda Eudaly
•     “Take a Left at the Cretaceous” by Mark Finn
•     “Grey Goo and You” by Derek Austin Johnson
•     “Rex” by Joe R. Lansdale
•     “Texas Died for Somebody’s Sins But Not Mine” by Stina Leicht
•     “Jump the Black” by  Marshall Ryan Maresca
•     “An Afternoon’s Nap, or; Five Hundred Years Ahead” by Aurelia Hadley Mohl
•     “The Nostalgia Differential” by Michael Moorcock
•     “Novel Properties of Certain Complex Alkaloids” by Lawrence Person
•     “The Chambered Eye” by Jessica Reisman
•     “Avoiding the Cold War” by Josh Rountree
•     “The Art of Absence” by Don Webb

If you're still not convinced, then you can preview every story here.

Worldbuilding: Aliens and Environments

Now I'm working on Banshee, a space-opera novel that, on a fundamental level, is about putting a human being on a ship with a whole lot of different aliens and asking, "So how is this going to work?" 

There are some hard questions that can be asked that a lot of sci-fi works tend to ignore or only give a passing nod to.  

If I'm being honest, on my end, I'll probably be giving a passing nod to some of them myself.  But here are some things I've been thinking about in terms of putting nearly a dozen different alien species on one ship together.  First and foremost, the question of, "Is this even worth the trouble?"  Can the advantage of mutual cooperation amongst different species outweigh the inherent difficulties in trying to live in the same space?

Let's just presume, in this instance, that most species on the ship have a respiration cycle that requires oxygen.  It's not a terrible presumption, mind you-- any respiration cycle will need a molecule that's reactive, but not TOO reactive-- but then you have the question of How Much Oxygen?  Odds are not everyone will need the same balance as everyone else.  What if one species needs, say, 30% oxygen in their atmosphere?  Then the reactive properties that make oxygen molecules useful for humans becomes a little more problematic.  What if one species requires an atmosphere that's toxic to another?  What if one species's waste product is toxic to another? 

How do you decide who needs to just wear an environmental suit, since their environmental needs are far too inconvenient to everyone else?

Other factors to consider, just for starters: Gravity.  Light levels. Temperature tolerances.  Radiation levels.

And that's just about being in the same space.

What about working in the same space?  Even presuming that interspecies communication is functional enough to facilitate working together, what about ergonomics?

How do you make workstations that accommodate beings with different body sizes, body types, forms of fine-motor control, visual ranges and hearing ranges?  Do you put chairs at them?  If you aren't humanoid, chairs are pointless.  If you have only two hands (or equivalent) then using a console designed for four or more will be very challenging.  Similarly, if you have four or more, using a console designed for only two would feel woefully inefficient.

So you have to ask yourself, which compromises are the best fit for everyone, and which ones create ones that everyone can tolerate, but no one is comfortable with?  And at what point would it become too hard to be worth the trouble?

Future Worldbuilding: Choosing the Future

I've now switched gears, in earnest, with my "primary" writing project.  I've written four books in Maradaine and the world around it (six if you also count the two trunked novels), and while I'm not at all bored of it*, a palate-cleansing switch is due.   So I'm now (finally) writing the project that I've been calling Banshee for some time, which is pure space-opera.

The setting of this book is something I've been cooking for some time.  I've done a fair amount of worldbuilding here, with regards to future history, alien species and technology.

Now, trying to predict the future, especially in broad strokes for the next four hundred years, is pretty much a fool's errand.  You're not going to get it right.  So, you need to just embrace what the future you're creating is going to be, and jump in at the deep end.

The way I see it, you need to ask yourself three Big Idea Questions:

1. Where are we?
2. How did we get there?
3. Why aren't we over there instead?

The first two are essentially about establishing what your setting is.  In the case of Banshee, it's a wide-sprawling, vibrant space-opera where great interstellar powers are forming alliances and empires... and humanity is a minor power that has only started to be a part of the larger community.

The third question is about establishing what your setting isn't, which is just as vital and necessary thing to think about when building sci-fi in the future.  For example, is genetic engineering of people common?  To what extent?  And if it isn't being used to the fullest possible extent, why not?  Cybernetics, nanotech, cloning, brain-taping?  Artificial Intelligence? Have these been fully embraced as part of normal life?  Or have they been shunned?  If so, why? 

For example, the future humanity in Banshee do not have artificially intelligent computers, and any form of cybernetic replacement of limbs or organs is done in a very controlled way (or on the black market).  Partly because, as a writer, these were cans of worms I didn't want to open and had little to do with the future I wanted to explore.  But I felt I couldn't just ignore it, pretend that such sciences didn't exist.  So I've included in the history a point where humanity achieves Artificial Intelligence, and it goes horribly badly; a bloody war against the machines where AIs try to take over, and people with cybernetic implants are unwilling meat-soldiers used against the rest of mankind.  Humanity wins out, but the cost is high, and the result is the feelings behind never do that again are quite strong.

So, with that worked out, I'm diving into tomorrow.  See you there.

---
*- In fact, I've got specific outlines for Books Two and Three for each of those four books, and a rough plan for more beyond that, which all really excite me. 

Worldbuilding/Perils of the Writer: One-Story Worlds vs. Many-Story Worlds

There are pretty much two ways a sf/fantasy writer can go about writing and worldbuilding: come up with a story, and build a world for it to be in; or build a world, and come up with stories to put in it.

One way to think of this is the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.  The Star Wars universe is really only about telling one story: the rise and fall of the Empire, and the concurrent fall and rise of the Jedi.  I would argue that part of the problem with the Star Wars prequels is all they do-- all they really can do-- is set up the board for the story the universe has been built to tell. Star Trek, on the other hand built its universe out of telling many different stories, and has the ability to telling many, many different kinds of stories.  Of course, with the Star Trek universe, you've got a lot of patchwork worldbuilding, held together by spackle, baling wire and wishful thinking. 

There's no right or wrong in this, mind you.  Like plotting/pantsing, whichever method works best for your own particular style is the right way to go.  However, both methods have their challenges.

Personally, I'm a Method Two guy: I start with crafting and detailing the world, and the process of doing that opens up the avenues for stories.  The challenge behind that is narrowing things down to figure out what, actually, you need to write in that world.  With a whole wide world of grand and epic scope, you want to treat the whole thing like an enormous brood of children.  No one gets neglected.  So a world that has the potential for many, many stories might not yield any stories, because no singular story you write can be as grand and far-reaching as the worldbuilding work you've done. 

This was exactly my problem with my trunked project Crown of Druthal.  It was nothing but a travelogue, going from place to place with no through-plot and little purpose.  And why was that?  Because I had made EVERYWHERE and therefore I had to go EVERYWHERE.  It wasn't until after realizing the flaws with that mindset that I was able to narrow my focus to one city, and let the rest of the world only brush up to it, as the rest of the world would in a cosmopolitan city.  I had a similar problem in the space opera setting for Banshee-- I had defined so much, I had to force myself to narrow the focus of what the story actually was going to be. 

So why not do it the other way, and build the world to suit your story?  Of course you can, like I said, nothing wrong with that.   The challenge there comes from when you need or want to do more beyond that story.  I've mentioned this before with David Eddings.  Everything in The Belgariad was set up to tell that story, as the ultimate, saving-the-world, fulfill-the-prophecy, make-everything-right story.  And then a sequel series was asked for.  So they had to undercut The Belgariad by essentially saying, "Yeah, that was the dress rehearsal.  Here's the REAL event." Of course, building the world to fit the story you've come up with doesn't have to have this problem.  Sometimes doing it that way can open all sorts of avenues to new stories that you hadn't imagined to begin with.

Perils of the Writer: The Overexplanation of Genre

I recently discovered a little gem of satire: How David Weber Orders a Pizza.  Go check it out.  I'll wait.

Back?

I'll admit, I laughed a lot there, because it was a pitch-perfect satire of Weber's style-- highly technical, and expanding upon every possible detail as if the reader had very little cultural or historical context to comprehend what is going on.  Even the most mundane aspects of daily life can become detailed and analyzed to an absurd level:

120 meters later, he pressed the central pedal on his floorboard and the vehicle slowed smootly to a zero-zero intercept with the pavement. A signpost stuck out of the concrete outside, in front of and slightly to the right of his vehicle. It bore a large red octagon, with the word "STOP" emblazoned upon its center in white sans-serif lettering. The sign was a way of establishing right-of-way rules at this intersection of two streets. The vehicles going his direction, and going the opposite direction on the same street, would both see these "stop signs", and would thus be required by law to stop before proceeding. Vehicles following the street that crossed this one, on the other hand, would not see any "stop signs." They would be allowed to continue across the intersection without changing their velocity. If neither street had displayed any "stop signs", then vehicles following either street could legally cross the intersection at constant speed, resulting in disaster should two vehicles from each street be converging on the intersection at the same time. With the stop signs, the vehicles following the stop-signed street would be required to stop and wait for any such "cross traffic", thus ensuring that both they and the crossing vehicles would emerge from the intersection safely.

While this is sublimely ridiculous, would a description or explanation of something in sci-fi or fantasy along these lines be that out of place?  Weber is far from the only genre author guilty of this sort of thing. 

Now, part of this is the worldbuilding: the author has done the work, and it must be shared, right?  But moderation is key.  Does the reader NEED to know this?  Does not knowing impede their understanding of what is going on?

Sometimes a good infodump is entertaining and exciting-- Scott Lynch is good at this, for example, putting as much storytelling as possible into it.  But more often than not, it's exactly like what this story satires: overcomplicated and absurd in chronicling the details that would be commonplace.

Here's an exercise for you: modern life is pretty much the stuff of science fiction from 20 or 30 years ago.  How would you accurately describe the commonplace of today in the voice of someone writing in 1993 or 1983?

LoneStarCon and the Amazing People in this Industry

So, I will attending WorldCon in San Antonio at the end of the month, though I won't be appearing on any panels.  Given the size and scope of this thing, I am absolutely fine with that. There will be a reading for Rayguns Over Texas on Saturday, followed by a signing for the anthology, and I intend to be on hand for that.  But that's not anything official.   I am happy-- thrilled-- to simply attend and drink up the atmosphere and see fellow writers and meet new people.

A big part of that is due to the simple fact that most of the people in this industry are fantastic people, both the ones that I've met and become friends with, and the ones I've only had minimal interaction with.

For example, a college friend of mine, who is in the process of medical school right now, also was accepted to Clarion West this past summer.  He had applied to Clarion mostly as a hail-Mary, and was pleasantly surprised to be accepted.  The problem, though, was he wasn't sure if he could swing both it and his academic duties.  He contacted me, worried that if he had to turn it down, he'd be blackballed.  This, apparently, was what he had experienced in medical school-- if you were accepted into a sub-internship, turning it down was career suicide.  I was pretty sure it would be fine, of course the Clarion people knew that taking six weeks off from the other responsibilities of life was something few people could manage.  But I wanted to confirm, and I asked around, asking writers who I knew had been involved in Clarion, even if my own interaction with them had been minimal.  And every one responded quickly and courteously.  And, of course, they all agreed: everyone involved in Clarion would understand perfectly.

Here's another example.  A few months ago, after I finished reading Boneshaker, I did a small amount of research on Cherie Priest, which made me realize that I had had an inside-baseball-business-of-writing question that she might have some insight on.  So I emailed her with my random-yet-rather-specific question.  In less than 24 hours, she not only responded, but with a long and well-considered answer.  Did she have to do such a thing?  Of course not, but she did, even though such a response would have easily taken a half an hour out of her day.  Why?  Because she's good people.

The list could go on.  I have sung praises of Stina Leicht to the sky, of course.  There's plenty more I could name.  Julie Kenner and Kimberly Frost, for example, who both read multiple drafts of query letters for me.  Matthew Bey, who dropped my name when invites were going around for Rayguns, and Rick Klaw, who was open to that despite having only met me in passing.*

I bet you every single one of those people have some story of someone who paid forward to them.  And I have every intention to do the same.

So, if you spot me at WorldCon, come say hello.  Promise I won't bite.

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*- Not to mention, you know, accepting my story into the anthology.

Hugo Nominations: Best Novel and Best Novella

So, given that voting for the Hugos closes this Tuesday, I should close up my thoughts on the major Awards.

Best Novel

•     2312, Kim Stanley Robinson (Orbit)
•     Blackout, Mira Grant (Orbit)
•     Captain Vorpatril’s Alliance, Lois McMaster Bujold (Baen)
•     Redshirts: A Novel with Three Codas, John Scalzi (Tor)
•     Throne of the Crescent Moon, Saladin Ahmed (DAW)

All right: I only read two of these: Redshirts and Throne. I really wasn't interested in reading Book 15 of a series I've never read, so Captain Vorpatril was pretty much out.  To a lesser extent, that applied with Blackout, but also from reading Mira Grant/Seanan Maguire's other entries, I wasn't interested in carving out extra time to read something else.  And as for 2312... with all due respect to Mr. Robinson, but his books are not for me.  I muscled my way through Red Mars some time ago, and tried to do Green Mars, but I felt I was doing that entire out of a strange sense of obligation instead of enjoyment.

So, with only two books read, what comes out?  Well, frankly, I tore through Redshirts in about 24 hours, finding it a lot of fun.  I'll admit, I found the three codas to be a process of diminishing returns (Coda 1 was a good follow-up, Coda 2 was interesting, and Coda 3 felt extremely tangential), but the whole book was highly enjoyable.  Throne, on the other hand, was just fine.  A perfectly good book, but I honestly didn't quite get why this was the highly-nominated super-buzz book of 2012.  I didn't even think it was the best psuedo-Middle East fantasy of 2012. 

Best Novella

•     After the Fall, Before the Fall, During the Fall, Nancy Kress (Tachyon Publications)
•     The Emperor’s Soul, Brandon Sanderson (Tachyon Publications)
•     On a Red Station, Drifting, Aliette de Bodard (Immersion Press)
•     San Diego 2014: The Last Stand of the California Browncoats, Mira Grant (Orbit)
•     “The Stars Do Not Lie”, Jay Lake (Asimov’s, Oct-Nov 2012)

Again, didn't get all of these read.  Didn't even start The Emperor's Soul, and only got a little of the way into On a Red Station.  It didn't hold my interest, but I won't include it in my voting plan.

"The Stars Do Not Lie" didn't hold my interest either, mostly because I felt it was heading towards an obvious revelation and shuffling its way to it, so I grew uninterested.  After, Before, During also made its way to an obvious climax, and the revelations of that climax were less that compelling.  But the writing itself, and the path there, were strong, so I enjoyed reading it, even if I felt somewhat dissatisfied with where it ended up.  Also, San Diego 2014 was enjoyable to read, but on the whole it wasn't satisfying.  Between those two, I'll give After the edge.

Voting closes in two days! 

Worldbuilding: Marriage and Other Rituals of Love and Joining

Today is my anniversary (13th!), so it seems appropriate to talk about the worldbuilding aspects of marriage and other rituals of joining.  Marriage customs are rarely the center of any worldbuild, but they do add a certain degree of flavor and color to the cultures you create.

I think the first thing one should do when crafting the marriage customs of another culture is clear your head of morality and expectation of what marriage "should" be.  I mean, yes, of course you can keep the marriage in a built culture exactly the same as you see it here in your own.  But there are some questions you should ask yourself when coming up with How Marriage Works there:

• What kind of groups are marriages?
• What are the legal expectations of a marriage?
• What are the social expectations of a marriage?
• Who is allowed to enter a marriage?
• How is the decision to marry carried out?
• At what age do people typically marry?
• How can a marriage be dissolved?

At the core, there are four forms of marriage: monogamous, polygamous,  polygynous and polyandrous. The last two are subsets of polygamous, but it's important to make the distinction, though we often use the term "polygamy" (marriage of multiple people) when we really mean polygyny (a man with mulptiple wives).  Polygamy can take many forms beyond one person with multiple spouses.  It could be a group of people all married to each other (like the line marriages of Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress) or one where each person has multiple spouses, but there isn't necessarily a bond between said spouses (like the Denobluans of Star Trek: Enterprise, where Phlox has three wives, and each of those wives has two additional husbands, and each of those husbands has two additional wives... and so on.)

Legal and social expectations get to the core of What Marriage Means for the culture.  For example, in my fantasy setting, the Xonacans are matriarchal polyandrists, and men are explicitly the property of their wives.  Similarl the questions about who is allowed to marry and how the decision is carried out informs a lot about the culture. Are certain social groups are barred from marriage?  Are marriages arranges?  Do the upper classes have arranged marriages?  Are same-sex marriages allowed?  Do people marry in their teens, their twenties?  As children?  Is fidelity expected? Are divorces common? Or is marriage binding until death?  Are marriages essentially business arrangements, or are they done for love?

Which then opens up another question: are there other rituals of love?  Or joining?  Adoption, for example, could be something that the culture ritualizes.  Another example from my setting: amongst the Ch'omikTaan, a feudal warrior culture, two men can bind their houses together by making themselves brothers-- a ritual similar, but not identical, to a marirage.

And beyond what marriage means, what does a wedding entail?  Is it a simple legal contract, or a seven-day ceremony?  These details can really help define the cultures of your world. 

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 And on another note, I've achieved an authorial milestone: fan art from one of the early scenes in Thorn of Dentonhill.  
Hopefully this is a sign that a deal is right around the corner.

Hugo Nominations: Stina Leicht for the Campbell

The Campbell goes to the best new writer whose first professional work of science fiction or fantasy was published within the two previous calendar years.    It is technically not a Hugo Award, but the voting for it is tied with the Hugo, and its presented at the Hugo Award, so I'm including it in my discussion here.  Plus, it's an award which I have a very strong opinion about this year.

The Campbell Award should go to Stina Leicht.

I'm not going to pretend I'm the slightest bit unbiased in this.  Stina Leicht is a friend.  And I mean no disrespect to Misters Cho, Gladstone or Wendig, nor Ms. Lafferty, but I don't know them.  Their people can pitch for them. 

So, why should you vote for Stina Leicht?

First of all, there's the writing itself.  If you haven't read Of Blood and Honey or And Blue Skies from Pain, you really ought to put them on your short list.  Near the top.  She blends historical fiction (70s Northern Ireland) with Urban Fantasy to create something unique.  If you have a preconceived notion of what "Urban Fantasy" is, these will shatter that. 

Based on these books alone, she would deserve it.

But let's look beyond just the writing.  Because Stina is a person who engages in the community, with her fellow writers, as well as paying it forward to the people behind her.  She's been the coordinator for the ArmadilloCon Writer's Workshop since 2008.  That's five years of work helping writers working to become professionals.  Introducing them to professionals.  Getting their work in front of editors when she can.  She could be putting all her energies into just her own work, but she believes in helping, she believes in teaching. 

She believes in treating those coming up behind as her peers.  And that is something special.  When you feel that your manuscript isn't good enough, that some plot twist is completely broken, when you're in a blind panic because you're about to pitch to an agent who sent you a rejection letter a few hours ago: she's someone who will give you an understanding ear and a few sage words. 

Stina is a rare gift in the sci-fi and fantasy world.  And from what I've read and heard of what she's got forthcoming, she is going to keep amazing her readers.  Mark my words: thirty years from now she's going to be one of the grand dames of the genre, a name spoken with hushed awe.

But don't take my word for it.  Go read.  And then vote.   

Orson Scott Card and Tolerating Intolerance

One of the things circulating the genre-fan news is how Orson Scott Card, author of Ender's Game and noted anti-gay crusader, has recently put out a plea for "tolerance" of his intolerant behavior, and that people shouldn't picket or boycott the upcoming Ender's Game movie on his account.

I'm not sure where I stand on all this yet, though I'm a believer in separating the art from the artist if that's possible, but I thought I'd hand the mike over to a friend--who wishes to remain anonymous-- who makes his stance on this quite eloquently:

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I found this discussion particularly interesting since I am gay, and I grew up Mormon and my whole family is still Mormon. I was also a huge fan of Card growing up and Enders Game is one of the defining novels of my childhood. I won't be boycotting the movie, and I probably wouldn't boycott anything he's done actually.

I think my "tolerance" (bad word choice) comes from a place of understanding. My parents have said things just as bad, if not worse then the things Card has said in his press releases and comments. But I have not boycotted my parents. We actually get along really well and have a better relationship then we have in a long time. They know I am gay and I know they don't like it but we focus on what is good for both of us.

Now the situation between my parents and me is possible because, when I was Mormon, I believed all the things that they believed and I can remember what it is like to be a slave to those beliefs. You know you are being cruel, you know you are insulting people, but it seems like the right thing to do because you are standing up for truth. It's like the Steven Weinberg quote. "For good people to do evil things, that takes religion."

Orson Scott Card is not a monster. He's probably a good father and a great member of his community. I have friends who have met him and say he is very nice. I had one friend who met him and when he found out she wrote poetry he demanded that she read some for him and he gave her a lot of nice attention and feedback. It was an inconvenience for him that meant a lot to her and was very kind.

Now does that mean I agree with his views on homosexuality? Absolutely not. The guy's insane. But so are my parents and all of my extended family and so was I until the age of twenty four. And the process of changing my mind was the most depressing, disillusioning one of my entire life. I am glad to be on the other side of it, but it was not a fun journey.

I think I have a degree of sympathy for people like him, and I don't feel a need to boycott him, or harass him with letters or call him names because, for one thing, fighting fire with fire always seemed foolish to me. And second, the world is changing without them. They are being left behind and in some ways their hatred will be a self inflicted punishment as they are abandoned by more and more people as the crack pots they are. I don't believe in god, but I do believe in Karma.

So in conclusion, I will go see the movie. I'm a big fan of many of the people working on it and a movie is such a big family to punish. As for Card, I don't feel like I have to do anything. I am totally content to wait patiently and allow him the right to destroy himself. Or maybe, some day change his mind.

Hugo Nominations: Best Dramatic Presentation

Confession: when I was younger, and not really noting what was going on in the SF/F literary world, all I would pay attention to among the Hugo nominees was the "Best Dramatic Presentation" award. I've always felt it was something of a problematic award, with things getting nominated that were... less than worthy.  This year's batch isn't as problematic as past years'-- there's nothing that pops out as a "Really?!?!" In fact, it's mostly good stuff.

So let's dive in.


Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form

•     The Avengers, Screenplay & Directed by Joss Whedon (Marvel Studios, Disney, Paramount)
•     The Cabin in the Woods, Screenplay by Drew Goddard & Joss Whedon; Directed by Drew Goddard (Mutant Enemy, Lionsgate)
•     The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Screenplay by Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson and Guillermo del Toro, Directed by Peter Jackson (WingNut Films, New Line Cinema, MGM, Warner Bros)
•     The Hunger Games, Screenplay by Gary Ross & Suzanne Collins, Directed by Gary Ross (Lionsgate, Color Force)
•     Looper, Screenplay and Directed by Rian Johnson (FilmDistrict, EndGame Entertainment)

Of these five, the only one I've yet to see is Looper, so I really have no opinion on that one.  The other four are, essentially, what I expected to see nominated this year.  (I did also expect to see Looper on the list, based on what I had heard about it.)  So: no surprises or upsets, really.
Easily my favorite here is The Avengers.  I'm a big superhero fan, and with The Avengers, I got the big team superhero movie I had always wanted.  There's one shot that makes this movie for me: the one long tracking shot that follows from Hawkeye taking out flyers to Cap and Iron Man on the ground to Black Widow riding one of the cycles to Thor and Hullk on top of one of the behemoths. It's clear, bright, vibrant, and it doesn't have hand-held cameras or quick cuts.  It's the cinematic equivalent of a splash page. 
Cabin in the Woods is a close second.  Clever, fun, and with an explosive third act.
Hunger Games was a solid movie, very enjoyable, anchored by Jennifer Lawrence's strong performance.  And also a very solid adaptation of the book.  I've no problem ranking it third.
Hobbit was weaker than I wanted it to be.  There are great parts in it-- the Riddles in the Dark sequence stands out-- but it doesn't add up to a greater whole. 

Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form

•     Doctor Who, “The Angels Take Manhattan”, Written by Steven Moffat, Directed by Nick Hurran (BBC Wales)
•     Doctor Who, “Asylum of the Daleks”, Written by Steven Moffat; Directed by Nick Hurran (BBC Wales)
•     Doctor Who, “The Snowmen”, written by Steven Moffat; directed by Saul Metzstein (BBC Wales)
•     Fringe, “Letters of Transit”, Written by J.J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci, Akiva Goldsman, J.H.Wyman, Jeff Pinkner. Directed by Joe Chappelle (Fox)
•     Game of Thrones, “Blackwater”, Written by George R.R. Martin, Directed by Neil Marshall. Created by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss (HBO)

I've never watched Fringe, so again, I have no opinion there.  
"Blackwater" was the high point of the second season of Game of Thrones, and it's my only nominee that made it to the list.  Game of Thrones is probably the most interesting genre show on right now, in that it's got so many balls in the air and manages to keep them up most of the time.  It's a show that's taking the through-line of what the medium can do that was started with Babylon 5 and continued with Lost, and made itself into the closest thing genre fans* have seen to being a novel-for-the-screen.  It might have been challenging to pick a single episode to stand out, given that, but "Blackwater", with its laser-like focus on one specific area of the plot, jumped out ahead of the rest.

I've made no secret that I'm not crazy this category has become the de facto Doctor Who category, as it's dominated the category every years since the series was relaunched.  In fact, 2009 is the only year Doctor Who did not take three of the five slots.   And I'm a big fan, but even still: really? It represents 60% of the best of the best of SF/F television and other short form?   So much so that shows like Walking Dead or Alphas or Arrow get snubbed?  I mean, "The Snowmen" was fine, but nothing extraordinary, with almost the whole episode held up by the charisma of Jenna-Louise Coleman.  The same could probably be said about "Asylum of the Daleks".  I'm a little more fond of "Angels Take Manhattan", even though it does damage to the Weeping Angels as neat threat, and it forces a major amount of suspension of disbelief along the lines of, "How can someone be lost forever to a man who travels through space and time?"  Still, it hits emotional resonances with Amy and Rory, and fits as a farewell for them.  So I'll rank it above the other two.  Of them, I'll give "Asylum" the edge. 

That's all for this batch.

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*- Not genre, but I'd argue that Mad Men and Breaking Bad are also doing that.

Independence Day Writing Pledge

Today's post is quick, because for the holiday I'm going to be prepping in the kitchen, then off to an event, so opportunity to post will be minimal. 

However, I've been thinking about what I wrote on Monday and my future writing plans.  See, once I finish cleaning up Way of the Shield, I'll start working on Banshee in earnest.  The protagonist of Banshee is Lt. Samantha Kengle.

Right here, I'm going to make this pledge regarding the writing of Lt. Samantha Kengle:

• At no point will she be called a "bitch" or a "whore".  Or cunt, strumpet, floozy, slut or quim.  
• At no point will her competence or ability to do her job be called into question on account of her gender.
• At no point will rape or sexual violence be visited upon her.  Nor will it play any role in her backstory or motivation.
• At no point will the reader be subjected to lurid descriptions of her physicality.
• Her uniform will be identical to every other officer's in the fleet. 
• She will be a complex, vibrant and engaging protagonist.  Given that I don't screw up in writing her.  If I do screw up, reader, hold my feet to the fire.

Hugo Nominations: Best Novelette

Continuing with my opinions on the Hugo Nominees, the Best Novelette nominees are:

• "The Boy Who Cast No Shadow" by Thomas Olde Heuvelt (Postscripts: Unfit For Eden, PS Publications)
• "Fade To White" by Catherynne M. Valente (Clarkesworld, August 2012)
• "The Girl-Thing Who Went Out for Sushi" by Pat Cadigan (Edge of Infinity, Solaris)
• "In Sea-Salt Tears" by Seanan McGuire (Self-published)
• "Rat-Catcher" by Seanan McGuire (A Fantasy Medley 2, Subterranean)

On the whole, I enjoyed reading all five of these.  But some, of course, I enjoyed more than others.

"The Boy Who Cast No Shadow" is a strong favorite for me in this batch, even though the titular boy isn't really who the story is about.  It starts out giving a rather thorough description of what's going on with him-- for some odd reason, he doesn't have any shadow, he doesn't reflect in a mirror, nor can a picture be taken of him.  He can be seen, of course, but looking at him gives an uncanny-valley effect, as his face has an almost glowing-photoshopped quality.  He has a brief bit of celebrity as a child, but after a while, people stop caring, and he tries to live a normal life.  Until he meets another freakish boy, who is somehow made of living glass.  This is treated as an oddity, but simply one of those things that happens in his family.  Being living glass is not easy, as he's not very flexible yet incredibly fragile.  In fact, of all the living-glass people there have been in his family's history, he's the first one to make it to the age of fourteen.  The work does a fantastic job of showing the friendship of these two outsiders, though it's really about the glass boy.  The Boy Who Cast No Shadow himself is mostly an oddity in order to have empathy for the glass boy.  But the whole thing works well as a metaphor for children who are born with a condition that will damn them to a short life. 

"In Sea-Salt Tears" and "Rat-Catcher" have a lot of similar notes, which is not surprising, given they are written by the same person.  Both are stories of a fae-creature (a selkie and a cat-fae, respectively) who have to navigate the tragic politics of their fae-world.  Of the two, I preferred "Rat-Catcher", but only a bit.  I have to confess, fae stories don't quite click for me, especially with the tropes in play in "Tears".  The set-up for "Tears" is interesting: the main character is a selkie by birth, but is still effectively mortal, since one doesn't become a true selkie without a skin, and skins are in limited quantity.  You only get a skin when it's passed on to you.  The main character gets passed over for a skin several times, and then gives up and starts up a romance.  The romance, of course, gets tested when she finally gets offered a skin.  My big problem with this one boils down to Secret Tropes.   This one has "I don't want you to do X because I have Reasons that I won't tell you"  "Well, if you won't explain, I have to do X."  Character does X.  Other character THEN reveals Reasons.  Why didn't they reveal them earlier? BECAUSE SECRETS.  Yeah, I'm not crazy about that sort of thing.  "Rat-Catcher" is a bit more of a romp, and while it's also tragic, it's at least a fun path to the tragic.  It's as fun as a story about the Great London Fire destroying the fairy world could be.

"Fade to White" is interesting.  It has the same DNA as "The Handmaiden's Tale", in that it depicts a world torn by mass infertility, and dealing with it in 50s-sitcom-morality methods.  However, in Valente's version, both men and women are tested for their fertility, as the number of fertile men are one-fourth of the number of women.  Fertile men will get to become "Husbands" for four women, but with an overcomplicated system of spending one week a month in each wife's home, and the wives living in separate communities, so there's never any sense of embarrassment or impropriety or anything other than nice, normal nuclear families.  It's well-done satire, though there are constant switches in form and voice, some of which worked for me and some didn't.

"The Girl-Thing Who Went Out for Sushi" was a frustrating read.  It was a piece that's very deep in its own worldbuilding, and just hits the ground at full throttle and hopes the reader will stay caught up.  Now, I had no problem catching up, but the whole piece stayed at arms-length, emotionally.  The gist of the piece is in a future where the solar system is being colonized, most of the people out in space have their bodies completely altered-- mostly to a squid-like form-- and thus their sense of identity shifts from human to other.  The slang term for the altered forms is "sushi", and thus making the change is "going out for sushi".  Part of my frustration comes from these slang terms-- the author couldn't seem to pick a single one for what the altered call normal humans.  Three or four terms are used interchangeably, though the one that stands out for me is "featherless bipeds".  This stands out because there's never a feathered biped... so why the distinction?  I feel like the setting deserves a bigger story than Cadigan is giving it here.

So, to my rankings:

1. "The Boy Who Cast No Shadow" by Thomas Olde Heuvelt (Postscripts: Unfit For Eden, PS Publications)
2. "Fade To White" by Catherynne M. Valente (Clarkesworld, August 2012)
3. "Rat-Catcher" by Seanan McGuire (A Fantasy Medley 2, Subterranean)
4. "In Sea-Salt Tears" by Seanan McGuire (Self-published)
5. "The Girl-Thing Who Went Out for Sushi" by Pat Cadigan (Edge of Infinity, Solaris)

Perils of the Writer: Writing and Politics

I don't know if you've really noticed this, but I tend not to talk about my political leans here on this blog.  It's not that I don't have them, but I don't bring them up here.  Because I want you, dear readers, to think of me as a sci-fi/fantasy writer, not a writer.

Here's the thing: I don't talk about my personal politics here because it really doesn't reflect on what I write.  Even Way of the Shield, easily my most "political" work, doesn't necessarily reflect any specific political view as "right" or "wrong".  In fact, if any eventual reader does take a specific political message from it, that's more a reflection of their read than my intent.  But if they find something, great.  Subtext is best when it's unintentional.

But some writers aren't like that.  Some wear their politics right on their sleeves, especially in their work.  And that can be great.  Or it can be horrible.*  But I'm kind of the opinion, if you want to write that sort of thing, that's what opinion columns in the newspaper are for.  As fiction, it tends to be uninteresting. 

And some wear their politics so proudly, it becomes their public persona.  That's your right, of course, but Freedom of Speech only prevents the government from shutting you up.  It doesn't stop people from thinking you're a jerk.

This is relevant right now, because there's some political scuffling going on over at SFWA.  I'm not a member yet, but I hope to be some time soon.  However: for all intents, lines have been drawn, and people have chosen their side, and squabbling has been going on.  

Without pointing fingers or getting into too many details, here's two things that have stood out to me:

1. I've noticed that the kind of people who are complaining that SFWA is "getting too political" and "politics shouldn't enter into it" are the very same people who can't seem to make a blog post or Facebook entry without being highly political, including actively attacking people who don't have the same politics. 

2. People who complain about having to be "politically correct" tend to be people who want to be jerks.  Let me tell you a secret about "political correctness".  Do you know what it really is?  It's not calling people something they don't want to be called.  That's it.  If doing that is something you've got a real problem with, then you should take a look at yourself and decide what kind of person you want to be.  If the answer is, "I want to be a jerk and piss people off", then fine. Own that shit.  But also own the consequences.  Don't act like you can be that guy and also be surprised that you generate some ire for it.

So that's my main thing: talk the smack, if that's you want to do.  But don't be surprised if it smacks you back. 

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*- For the record, I've read fiction on both sides of the political spectrum that I've found eye-rollingly absurd.