Yearly Archives: 2021

Status of Two Anthos

You writers have been busy! In turn, your writing has been keeping me busy, as a co-editor for two different anthologies at the same time. Here’s a quick update on the two books I’ve been involved with, in good news/bad news format.

First, the bad news. Pole to Pole Publishing is cancelling its planned Re-Enlist anthology. I was co-editing this one along with a wonderful friend, author, and editor, Kelly A. Harmon. The book was to include futuristic/military/dark reprint stories. Unfortunately, we didn’t receive enough suitable stories to fill the anthology.

Many thanks to those who did submit stories. Among them were some great tales.

On the bright side, no one can keep Pole to Pole Publishing down for long. They plan to come up with new calls for submissions for future anthologies soon, and they’ll be announced here. It’s even possible that I’ll get to be involved as a co-editor again.

Now for the good news. The open submissions window for the anthology Extraordinary Visions: Stories Inspired by Jules Verne just closed, and we got a flood of submissions. By a flood, I mean 120, way above what I expected, and they included many wonderful stories. I’m part of the editing team for this book, and we’re busy choosing which stories to take.

I also thank all those who submitted to that anthology. So many good tales, and we’ll have to make some tough decisions. We can’t take them all.

This anthology is being sponsored by the North American Jules Verne Society, and the society’s leadership was pleased to learn of the huge response by writers who took the time to write and send their stories. It demonstrates the lasting impact Jules Verne’s novels continue to have on people today.

If all goes well, that anthology will be published later this year, and I’ll announce that event on this blog.

Although I continue to write my own fiction, I figured it was time to give you a status update from the editing desk of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 9, 2021Permalink

Filtering Out Filter Words

Today I’ll add another set of things you should look for as you edit your writing—filter words.

What are filter words? Sometimes called ‘distancing words,’ filter words (or phrases) describe how your point-of-view character perceives and understands the world.

Suppose I wrote this:

Not bad use of senses, but this paragraph tells the reader how Cheryl perceives the world. It reminds the reader who the POV character is.

But what if I’ve already established that earlier? What if the reader knows we’re in Cheryl’s POV and doesn’t need reminding? In that case, the filter words just get in the way. The world’s out there. Plunge your reader into it, right beside Cheryl.

Stronger, bolder writing, it immerses the reader into Cheryl’s world without unnecessary signs stating we’re in Cheryl’s head.

Sure, there are times when filter words are appropriate. Often it’s necessary to inform the reader whose head we’re in, such as the point just after a POV shift. On occasion, the whole point of a given written sensation is to be clear about who’d experiencing it. Sometimes it just fits better to use a filter word. Like most things in writing, this isn’t a hard-and-fast rule.

You can read more about filter words at this post by Suzannah Windsor Freeman, this one by H. Duke, this one by editor Louise Harnby, this one by the staff at Invisible Ink Editing, and in the book The Author’s Checklist by Elizabeth K. Kracht.

For now, please excuse me. I’ve got to go hunt down and delete a bunch of filter words from the rough drafts of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 25, 2021Permalink

Wear 6 Writing Hats

When I write, I wear six hats. Well, not at the same time, and not literally. I recommend you do, too. Some of the hats may not fit well, at first, but you’ll come to like them all.

I’m talking about the Six Thinking Hats of Dr. Edward de Bono, popularized by his 1985 book of the same name. Author Mark Gilroy applied the 6 hats idea to writing in this fun and instructive blog post, and I’ll add my own spin on his ideas here.

When you wear any particular one of the colored hats, you’re adopting a specific persona, a mindset that drives your thoughts. They are as follows:

  • Green is for new ideas, creativity, and innovation.
  • Blue is for big picture thinking, management, and organization.
  • Yellow is for positive thinking, optimism, and hope.
  • Black is for negative thinking, pessimism, and skepticism.
  • White is for non-judgmental information-gathering.
  • Red is for feelings, emotions, and instinct.

The theory is that only by wearing each of the hats at different times is a complete, effective solution achieved.

For a writer of fictional stories, here’s a way to think of each hat:

  • Green: story concepts, ideas for characters and settings
  • Blue: outlining, organizing your thoughts, planning your marketing campaign
  • Yellow: perseverance, overcoming disillusionment or loss of interest
  • Black: subsequent drafts, editing, deleting, revising
  • White: story research, brainstorming plot options
  • Red: first draft, character motivation, building tension

To look at this in a different way, let’s consider different stages or activities involved in writing a story, and which hats you’d wear at each stage. I’ve listed several hats at each stage in a specific order. Since writers work alone, or collaborate with one or a few others, I don’t consider it necessary to follow Dr. de Bono’s strict methods, which are intended for business teams.

ActivityHat Sequence
Conceiving idea for storyGreen, Blue, Yellow, Black
Researching for storyWhite, Blue
Outlining storyBlue, Red, Green, White, Yellow, Black
Writing storyRed, Blue, Green, Yellow, Black, White
Self-editing storyBlack, White, Blue
Resolving feedback on story from othersBlack, White, Blue
Marketing story after acceptanceRed, Blue, Yellow, Green

As I mentioned earlier, not all the hats will feel comfortable to you. That is, some mindsets may be difficult for you to think in. Some writers don’t plan well or do outlines, so the blue hat may pinch a bit. Others get partway through writing and lose interest or get depressed about how poor they write, and they’ll dislike the yellow hat’s style.

Whichever hat is difficult for you, that’s the one you need most. That’s the one that will help you become a well-rounded writer.

Here you go—six (figurative) hats, all in great condition. Wear them well. With any luck, you’ll write better and look at least as dapper as—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 18, 2021Permalink

Writers’ Conferences in the Age of Zoom

Ever been to a writers’ conference, or a genre conference such as SciFi? They’re a lot of fun. But, as with so many things, the COVID-19 pandemic has changed the way they’re done, perhaps forever.

Over the past year, Coronavirus restrictions forced conference organizers to get creative. Many chose to hold their conferences in a virtual way, using Zoom, perhaps combined with other software.

I’d been to many conferences before the pandemic, and a few, by Zoom, in the past year. I’ve found there are several disadvantages to virtual conferences, but also some advantages.

Disadvantages

  • Author/Reader Connections. For an author, the main benefit to conventions is the chance to sell more books. For readers, it’s a great chance to meet authors whose books you love, or to meet new authors. Those connections are more difficult to make in virtual conferences, though some cons have set up virtual fan tables and author reading sessions.
  • Glitches. With so much electronic hardware and software and transmitted signals between people, glitches sometimes occur. It’s bad if you’re an attendee, but worse if you’re a presenter.
  • Background. If you’re a panelist/presenter, you’ve got to be aware of your background. Part of your home will be on display, unless you make use of Zoom’s simulated background feature.
  • Meeting People. At normal writers’ conferences, it’s easier to recognize and connect with old friends, or have the chance encounters where you make new friends. Zoom conference coordinators do their best to enable this, but it’s still more difficult.
  • Dealer Room. Normal conferences feature a large dealer room with a market atmosphere, a room filled with books and items for sale, sellers trying to attract buyers, and buyers perusing at their leisure and conversing with sellers. Not impossible with Zoom, but virtual is not the same.
  • Interactions. There’s just something better about face-to-face interactions with people. As a species, we’re both pre-wired for and raised with this means of dealing with others. The virtual connection is good, but not as good.

Advantages

  • Cost. Virtual conferences, in my experience, have less expensive registration prices. Often much less.
  • Distance is Free. You can attend any virtual conference in the world. No flying, no driving, no hotel. You don’t even have to leave home.
  • Ease and Comfort. No need to think much about what to wear. Even if you’re a presenter/panelist, others will only see you from the chest up.
  • Continuous Communication. At a normal conference panel, the moderator calls on attendees one at a time to ask their questions, and attendees wait their turn. In a Zoom conference, attendees can ask questions at any time in the Q&A feature, and type comments in the Chat feature.
  • The After-Panel. At a normal conference, panelists and attendees have to leave the room to make way for the next panel, leaving little time for post-panel chatting. At some virtual conferences, organizers arrange chat sessions on Discord or other software so that people can carry on discussions there.
  • Close-Up View. Rather than seeing from the back of a crowded room, attendees are seeing the author close-up, and getting better views of the covers of the author’s books. Often the author will list recent books in the Chat feature, so all you have to do is copy the title for purchase later.

Once the pandemic is over, I believe conferences will never be the same as they were. I suspect some conferences may continue as fully-virtual cons. Some may go with a sort of hybrid, with some people there in person and others participating by Zoom. Even for in-person cons, I suspect there will be rules about staying away or wearing a mask if you’re feeling sick.

Perhaps at some upcoming writers’ conference, whether virtual or in-person, you’ll meet—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 11, 2021Permalink

Clean Fiction? What, Did it Wash its Hands?

You’ve been hearing the term ‘Clean Fiction’ and wondering what it means. That questioning mind of yours shall soon be satisfied. Or, perhaps, left even more confused.

Apparently, ‘Clean Fiction’ doesn’t require you to physically wash a book in soapy water. My bad.

The clearest definition of the term is: fiction both young adults and mature adults can enjoy.  

In these pandemic times, with parents spending more time at home with children, sometimes home-schooling them, there’s a hunger for such stories. For that reason, the Story Quest Academy has been championing the cause of clean fiction.

From a writer’s point of view, how do you write a clean story? How does such a story differ from an unclean one?

I recall reading where Robert Heinlein said writing for young adults (called ‘juveniles’ in his day) was the same as writing for adults, you just take out the sex and swearing. The dozen ‘juvenile’ novels he wrote, though dated, remain readable and exciting today.

He warned writers against talking down to teenagers. If you think they aren’t ready for deep themes, long words, mild violence, or literary symbolism, you’re underestimating them.

These days, you could even leave in some mild swear words. Today’s YA audience has heard them.

Author Allison Tebo makes some interesting points about clean fiction in this post. Writing clean fiction, she says, forces you to be a better writer. You can’t fall back on sex or swearing to hold the reader’s interest. The action, dialogue, and word choices in your story must step up to do that.

Moreover, Tebo states that clean fiction is more likely to become classic fiction than typical adult-only fiction is. By appealing to nearly all age groups, a clean story become more universal and welcoming. If it is good enough, it may well become a classic, enjoyed for generations, even centuries.

Like Tebo, I grew up reading and loving clean fiction. Nearly all the science fiction I read was clean. In fact, teenagers were perhaps the main intended audience for that genre.

My own fiction tends toward the clean side. Exceptions include my horror story, published as “Blood in the River” and later, with alterations, as “Moonset.” Ripper’s Ring contains violence teens might find upsetting, though it’s not graphic.

If you go looking for my stories, many appear in anthologies along with tales written by other authors. In general, those stories, too, are clean, with the exception of those in the horror anthology Dead Bait.

I guess you could say I’ve been writing clean fiction before it was a thing. Creating stories so clean you could wash your hands with them, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 4, 2021Permalink

What’s in a Title?

Last week I wrote about the opening lines in a story. But before you read the opening, you read the title. Do you struggle to come up with appropriate, catchy titles for your stories? Read on…

Some writers have no problem with titles. In fact, there are authors who think up a clever title, and write a story to suit it.

On the other hand, some start with a ‘working title,’ intending to come up with a real title later. When that time arrives, they get stuck, unable to create a suitable title. Writing the 5000-word story was no problem, but coming up with just 1-10 words is maddening.

Author Stephen Pressfield offers some great advice in this blogpost. He says to let the theme of your story suggest the title, and he gives some great examples.

In her post on titles, author Lynne Lumsden Green goes a bit further. She says a title should (1) be memorable, (2) encompass the theme of the story, and (3) not give too much away.

I agree, though I don’t think you should agonize over your title. I’d spend more time on the story’s opening and closing lines. Even so, I often brainstorm about 20-30 titles before hitting on the right one.

Be aware, when choosing your title, even words like ‘the’ can be important. That word denotes one particular thing. To take an example from my stories, “Moonset” (from the Re-Terrify anthology) evokes a periodic event that happens daily. “The Moonset” suggests one particular setting of the moon. The one-word version was more appropriate for my story.

Here are some explanations for the titles of my stories:

“Broken Flute Cave” is also the setting of the story, a cavern so-named because a modern discoverer found what looked like broken flutes inside. My story is the origin story, or pourquoi story of the last Native American flute player to occupy that cave.

“Reconnaissance Mission” (in the Not Far From Roswell anthology) has a double meaning in this story. The tale follows Army Sergeant Major Edgar Allan Poe as he participates in a recon mission to Nuevo México. There he finds his is not the only team conducting such a mission.

“The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall” (in the Quoth the Raven anthology) is a sequel to Edgar Allan Poe’s story “The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall.” I could hardly have titled it any other way.  

“Instability” (in the Dark Luminous Wings anthology) is another title with double meanings. A medieval monk builds wings and tries to fly, but can’t control his flight. Moreover, some of the other monks question his sanity.

“Time’s Deformèd Hand” is a phrase from the Shakespeare play “The Comedy of Errors.” My story—in the clockpunk genre—has many references to time, clocks, and calendars, and errors associated with time measurement. The grave accent mark (`) means to pronounce that usually-silent ‘e’ as you would in ‘ranted.’

“Last Vessel of Atlantis” (combined in one volume with “Rallying Cry”) evokes the wonder of that legendary lost continent. The word ‘vessel’ has two meanings in the story—a ship and a container of liquids. In fact, the first published version of that story was titled “The Vessel.”

“The Six Hundred Dollar Man” references the 1970s TV show “The Six Million Dollar Man” but mine is a steampunk version taking place in the American Wild West.

The next time you’re stressing about how to title a story, you’ll remember the profound and timeless advice of the one who titles himself—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 28, 2021Permalink

7 Ways to Start Your Science Fiction Short Story

Oh, those choosy readers! So pressed for time, so easily distracted. If you don’t begin your SF short story in an imaginative, attention-grabbing way, they won’t read further. Let’s find out how to hook them.

Author Charlie Jane Anders wrote a great post citing seven killer openings for SF short stories, with classic examples for each one. I highly recommend her post.

Here, in brief, is my take on her list, with examples from my stories:

1. Set the Scene. Put us ‘there’ right away. Immerse us in the strangeness of your setting. Most SF stories begin this way. Use when setting is important, but get to the plot’s action soon after.

Personal Example, from “The Sea-Wagon of Yantai:”

2. Introduce Conflict. Hit us with the problem first. What is your character dealing with? Fill in other details later. Good way to hook readers, but a bit chancy if your bomb’s a dud, or if the rest of the story doesn’t live up to its start.

Personal Example, from “A Tale More True:”

3. Mystify. Intrigue and confuse us. Cast us in without knowing our bearings yet. A risky way to start, but when it works, it works well.

Personal Example, from “The Cats of Nerio-3:”

4. Gather ‘Round, Children. Have a talkative narrator speak to the reader in third person, often addressing the reader as ‘you.’ Often used in humor stories, but you need to keep that narration intriguing, and sustain it.

Personal (though approximate) Example, from “Reconnaissance Mission:”

5. There I was. Have the talkative narrator, the main character, self-identifying as “I,” speak to the reader in first person. Often these stories start in a reflective, essay-like tone. Helps readers identify with the main character right away, but you need to get to the plot action and the scene-setting soon after.

No Personal Examples

6. Start With a Quote. This can be a quote from another document, or (more often) a character speaking. Good way to introduce a character’s personality right away, but if done wrong, this beginning can come off as juvenile.

Personal Example, from “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall:”

7. Open With a Puzzle. Combine 2. and 3. above to introduce a conflict while also mystifying. This is the most difficult of the seven methods. Great when it works, but awful when it doesn’t.

Personal Example, from “Moonset:”

You should work hard on the opening lines of your short stories. Try several, or all, of the examples above until you hit on one you feel is right. Attempt, in a sentence or two, to (1) grab the reader, (2) introduce the main character, (3) present or suggest the conflict, (4) set the mood or tone of the story, and (5) perhaps give a hint of the ending for circular closure.

Now go out and grab your readers, using the methods of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 21, 2021Permalink

I Knew What I Meant

Have you ever started reading a story and not understood it? It’s frustrating, and you’re unlikely to finish reading. Who’s to blame for that? The story’s author? You? Let’s explore the problem.

Years ago, I took a course in technical communication. The instructor asked, “Who is responsible for effective communication, the writer or the reader?” The ‘class answer’ was “You are,” meaning you should strive for clear understanding whether you’re reading or writing.

The purpose of any writing, whether fiction, nonfiction, poetry, or the outside of a cereal box, is to convey an idea from one person’s mind to another person’s mind. The idea starts in the author’s mind and passes through several filters before reaching the resulting text. In every case, it’s an imperfect translation of idea to text.

Next, the reader reads the text and that information passes through the reader’s filters to create an idea in the reader’s mind. That process involves more translation errors, so the similarity of the writer’s idea to the reader’s understanding of that idea is, at best, approximate.

The purpose of fiction is to entertain. If the reader is not entertained, the reader can simply stop reading. There is no compelling need for the reader to finish the text and gain sufficient understanding, like there is, for example, in reading the instructions for defusing a bomb while the bomb is ticking.

Often, fellow authors in my critique group say they don’t understand something I’ve written. My reply is, “Why not? I knew what I meant.” That, of course, is never good enough.

The trouble is, as writers, when we look at our resulting words, our minds snap back to our original vision, not to the imperfectly translated one in the reader’s mind. So strong is this tendency that we find it difficult to conceive of any other way to interpret our words.

In this post, Glenn Leibowitz cites the book The Sense of Style: The Thinking Person’s Guide to Writing in the 21st Century by Steven Pinker. In it, Pinker defines the “Curse of Knowledge” as ‘the difficulty of imagining what it is like for someone else not to know something that you know.’

If we’re all cursed with this problem, how may we overcome it? First, you know it can be solved. You’ve read some fiction that really reached you, where the author transported you into the world of the book, where you truly got it. Therefore, take heart. Here are some techniques for lifting the curse:

  1. When writing your first draft, forget about the Curse of Knowledge. Concentrate on getting your story written with a consistent tone and emotion. Sacrifice readability for speed.
  2. In a later draft, review your descriptions of characters and settings and feelings. Now go to the extreme and add a lot of details. Over-describe things. Paint your mental pictures pixel by pixel.
  3. In a still later draft, hone those descriptions to the key details, the ones that really make the picture real.
  4. Incorporate similes and metaphors to relate story-world things to your reader’s real-world things.
  5. Be on the lookout for jargon, words a professional in a particular field might know, but most readers wouldn’t. If you must use such a term, include a brief definition the first time you use it.
  6. If possible, set your manuscript aside for a few weeks. Review it again when the words aren’t as fresh in your mind. This approximates a reader’s experience and you can fix any passages that aren’t clear.
  7. Get help from others. Have a Beta Reader review your manuscript. Join a Critique Group. Or pay an editor to read through your story.

Have I confused you? Sorry. This post was crystal clear in the mind of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 14, 2021Permalink

Write Fast, Write Slow

Should you write fast, slow, or a bit of both? Emulate a cheetah, a snail, or switch from one to the other?

I got to pondering this topic when I heard about the book Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. In the book, he discusses both of the ways thoughts form in our brains. He calls them System 1 and System 2.

In System 1, our thoughts are instant, emotional, and unconscious. This is what Malcolm Gladwell described in his book Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. In System 2, our thoughts take time to form and are logical, rational, and less frequent.

Kahneman’s book is not primarily about writing, but others have extended his thoughts into that field. Author Joe Bunting claims that he (Bunting) too easily slips into System 2, so offers five tips to stay in System 1 and therefore crank out prose faster.

Author Anne Janzer renames System 1 as the Muse and System 2 as the Scribe. She advocates using each mode to maximum advantage, and being open to both systems. Wait…did she call the slow one Scribe? Poseidon’s Scribe will try not to take offense.

Just to be different, I’ll call the two systems Cheetah Mode and Snail Mode.

In Cheetah Mode, you’re trying to write in the flow. If you get stuck for a word or need to research something, just make a note to do that later and move on. Let nothing interrupt the cascade of words.

Cheetah Mode has the advantage of being prolific. You can really churn out stories fast. In that mode, too, you can more easily sustain an emotion and achieve consistent tone throughout a story.

However, the Cheetah makes mistakes—grammar goofs, cliches, stereotyped characters, plot problems, unexplained motivations, illogical events, unclear descriptions, etc.

Snail Mode has the advantage of careful attention to detail. It’s what writers call their internal editor. In this mode you can spot and correct your errors, ensure your story is researched and credible, add new insights that occur after careful thought, and render your story polished and readable.

But Snail Mode contains a trap—the perfectionism trap. There’s always more you can do to improve your story, and you can improve it all the way into an eternal spiral of incompletion.

When should you use each mode? I suggest, for your first draft, let the cheetah sprint. In all subsequent drafts, I’d bring out the snail and let it slowly roam through the text, especially the beginning and ending of the story.

As the snail wends its dawdling and deliberate way, keep the cheetah nearby. Let it tap the snail’s shell every now and then, asking, “You done yet? That story’s good enough to submit now. I’m ready to let loose with the next tale.” Any of Bunting’s techniques might work for this.

As Janzer suggests, you should be able to flit from cheetah to snail and back with ease, and be equally comfortable in either mode.

Not to be confused with Anne Janzer’s System 2 Scribe, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 4, 2021Permalink

The 1000-Idea Mind

Do you, or does someone you know, have a 1000-Idea Mind?

For years, I worked for a boss who had 1000 creative ideas a week. About 100 of them were good ideas. About 10 might be practical, given enough time and money. If I worked hard all week, I might make good progress on 1 of those ideas. Then a new week would roll around and my boss had 1000 new ideas.

Such people overflow with ideas. They come up with far more creative thoughts about tasks and projects than they could ever accomplish by themselves. In the working world, they tend to get promoted to positions of authority where they have employees to execute some of their plans.

But there are never enough employees, or hours in the week, or other resources, to come close to realizing more than a small fraction of the notions of a 1000-Idea Mind.

People with 1000-Idea Minds look at the world differently. They see things as they could become. They see possibilities, how the world would be better if this were moved there, or that had a hole in it, etc. That a task might be too complicated, or unprecedented, or need resources far beyond what’s available, that rarely bothers them. Those constraints are, at best, details to be worked out by others, or, at worst, excuses for avoiding work.

Visit the home of someone with a 1000-Idea Mind, and you’ll see it’s filled with partially-completed projects all strewn about in haphazard order. They’re big on starting, not on finishing.

Often such people don’t seem upset about the low accomplishment rate for their ideas. They believe other people exist for the purpose of implementing their notions, and they understand those people aren’t miracle workers. Those other people are doing the best they can with their limited minds, so one must learn to tolerate the low fruition rate.

I suspect 1000-Idea Minds are rare within the population, but I believe they’re valuable to society. Leonardo da Vinci probably had such a mind. He sketched a lot of inventions and left the actual construction to others. He knew all his notes needed to get organized, and he intended to do that someday, but never got around to it.  That’s something he should have delegated.

Some writers have 1000-Idea Minds, and I feel sorry for them. Writers don’t have a staff of employees to turn their story ideas into finished prose, to submit them for publication, to assist with marketing. They work alone. A writer with such a mind gets 1000 story ideas a week, but finishes few stories, if any.

Perhaps you find it frustrating to work for a boss with a 1000-Idea Mind. Imagine how frustrating it must be to have such a mind. Still, the world is much better for having such people in it. I suspect every daring project ever undertaken in human history started out as an idea within a 1000-Idea Mind.

I salute people with 1000-Idea Minds. However, when you’re getting your next idea and you’re casting about for someone to do the actual work, don’t look at—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 28, 2021Permalink