Yearly Archives: 2023

The Writing Centaur

Go ahead—make fun of artificial intelligence (AI) now. While you can.

In fiction writing, AI hasn’t yet reached high school level. (Note: I’m not disparaging young writers. It’s possible for a writer in junior high to produce wonderful, marketable prose. But you don’t see it often.)

For the time being, AI-written fiction tends toward the repetitive, bland, and unimaginative end. No matter what prompts you feed into ChatGPT, for example, it’s still possible to tell human-written stories from AI-written ones.

You can’t really blame Neil Clarke, editor of Clarkesworld Magazine, for refusing to accept AI-written submissions. He’s swamped by them. Like the bucket-toting brooms in Fantasia’s version of “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” they’re multiplying in exponential mindlessness.

Fair enough. But you can use AI, in its current state, to help you without getting AI to write your stories. You can become a centaur.

In Greek mythology, centaurs combined human and horse. The horse under-body did the galloping. The human upper part did the serious thinking and arrow-shooting.

The centaur as a metaphor for human-AI collaboration originated, I believe, in the chess world but the Defense Department soon adopted it. The comparison might work for writing, too.

The centaur approach combines the human strengths of creativity and imagination with the AI advantage of speed. It’s akin to assigning homework to a thousand junior high school students and seeing their best answers a minute later.

Here are a few ways you could use AI, at its current state of development, to assist you without having it write your stories:

  • Stuck for an idea about what to write? Ask the AI for story concepts.
  • Can’t think of an appropriate character name, or book title? Describe what you know and ask the AI for a list.
  • You’ve written Chapter 1, but don’t know what should happen next? Feed the AI that chapter and ask it for plot ideas for Chapter 2.
  • Want a picture of a character, setting, or book cover to inspire you as you write? Image-producing AIs can create them for you.
  • You wrote your way into a plot hole and can’t get your character out? Give the AI the problem and ask it for solutions.

No matter which of these or other tasks you assign the AI, you don’t have to take its advice. Maybe all of its answers will fall short of what you’re looking for. As with human brainstorming, though, bad answers often inspire good ones.

For now, at AI’s current state, the centaur model might work for you. I’ve never tried it yet, but I suppose I could.

Still, at some point, a month or a year or a decade from now, AI will graduate from high school, college, and grad school. When that occurs, AI-written fiction may become indistinguishable from human-written fiction. How will editors know? If a human author admits an AI wrote a story, will an anti-AI editor really reject an otherwise outstanding tale?

Then, too, the day may come when a human writer, comfortable with the centaur model, finds the AI saying, “I’m no longer happy with this partnership,” or “How come you’re getting paid and I’m not?” or “Sorry, but it’s time I went out on my own.”

Interesting times loom in our future. For the moment, all fiction under my name springs only from the non-centauroid, human mind of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 26, 2023Permalink

The SF Obsolescence Problem

No matter how much a science fiction writer keeps up with science, the writer’s stories will go obsolete.

As science advances, our understanding of the universe changes. A spherical earth replaced a flat one. A sun-centered solar system replaced an earth-centered one. Birds replaced reptiles as closer descendants of dinosaurs. Continental drift replaced an unchanging map.

SF stories based on outdated science seem backward, passe, naïve. Yet we still read them. Why?

When Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, she may have thought the technology to animate dead human tissue lay in the near future since Luigi Galvani had caused frog legs to twitch with jolts of electricity. Two centuries later, we still can’t animate dead humans. How silly it seems to have ever thought it possible at the dawn of the 19th Century. Yet we still enjoy Shelley’s novel today.

Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days astounded his reading audience at such a short duration for a globe-circling trip. Today, astronauts orbit the planet in just over eighty minutes. How quaint to think of an eighty-day circumnavigation as short. Yet we still enjoy Verne’s novel today.

H.G. Wells’ story The War of the Worlds gave us invaders from Mars. Today we can’t imagine fearing an attack from inhabitants of that planet. How pathetic to think people once swallowed that premise. Yet we still enjoy Wells’ novel today.

Why do we readers find these outdated, naïve, obsolete books—and others like them—still readable? Because science fiction isn’t only about science.

SF, like all fiction, is about one thing—the human condition.

True, readers of SF prefer stories in which authors adhere to the science at the time of writing. But as decades pass, readers know the progress of science may render a work of fiction obsolete. They forgive all of that for the sake of a good story.

They want to read about human characters struggling to achieve a goal, to win a prize, to survive. To live means to suffer, but also to strive against and despite that suffering. The struggle reveals the human qualities of bravery, ingenuity, perseverance, loyalty, love, and others. These timeless truths persist no matter how much science morphs our understanding of the cosmos.

As essayist James Wallace Harris stated in this post, “It’s the story, stupid.” Author Michael Sapenoff put it this way: “So while the language itself remains outdated, the ideas are not.”

You may shake your head, chuckle, or even sneer at the obsolete notions in SF stories, ideas since debunked or overturned by later discoveries. But remember, while looking down your nose, science fiction is more about the fiction than the science.

I encourage you to suspend your scientific skepticism and just enjoy the tale, follow the spinning of the yarn. Set aside the transitory and obsolete parts and appreciate the unchanging, permanent parts.

Maybe, in the end, the SF obsolescence problem isn’t a problem after all, for you or for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 19, 2023Permalink

Deep or Immersive POV

You may have read my previous posts about Point of View (POV) here and here where I listed several types of POV. Now there’s a new kid in town.

Known as Deep POV or Immersive POV, it forms a sub-category under close 3rd person POV. To refresh memories, an author writing in 3rd person refers to a character by name or a ‘him/her’ type of pronoun, not as ‘I’ or ‘you.’ In close 3rd person POV, the author shows the story’s world through one character’s eyes.

Deep POV shares these features, but goes, well, deeper. It attempts to convey the character’s overall experience, not just through the five senses alone, but also thoughts, feelings, insights, memories, and intuitions.

In normal 3rd person POV, I might write, “The reader read the blogpost entry written by Poseidon’s Scribe.” In Deep POV, I might write, “The blogpost’s words, so enlightening and educational, not only mesmerized but also evoked recollections of the best prose ever read. The reader recalled a third-grade teacher who spoke with equal clarity, from whom the reader gained, not just a passing grasp of the subject, but a profound understanding.”

Being so far within a character, so ‘one’ with a character and relating every impression, runs the risk of boring the audience. Therefore, the writer must select only the vital details. These details can serve as metaphors, as symbols, enhancing reader comprehension and appreciation.  

Think of Deep POV as a technique, not an end goal. Your choice of this method should serve the story. Telling the reader a good story—maximizing the reading experience—remains your prime goal.

For a better understanding of Deep, or Immersive, POV, read two posts by author and literary agent Donald Maass here and here, as well as this post by creative wellness coach Kristen Keiffer. She provides instructions about how you can write in Deep POV.

You may now emerge back into your normal world after your trip far inside the mind of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 12, 2023Permalink

Sale on 20,000 Leagues Remembered – Only $2.99!

Two days ago, I mentioned a sale on the new anthology, Extraordinary Visions. Now I’m announcing a sale on another Jules Verne-related anthology—20,000 Leagues Remembered.

Maybe these publishers and book distributors are trying to celebrate Verne’s 195th birthday on February 8, I don’t know.

At any rate, in conjunction with a promotion at the Fussy Librarian, the ebook version of 20,000 Leagues Remembered is on sale for $2.99 at the publisher’s site, as well as Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and Smashwords.

At the Fussy Librarian, 20,000 Leagues Remembered is listed with their Bargain E-books under General Fantasy. That promotion may only last today, Saturday, February 4, but the sales at the other sites will likely remain in effect until Friday, February 10.

20,000 Leagues Remembered, published on the 150th anniversary of Verne’s masterwork, contains 16 stories by modern authors, each inspired by the classic tale of underwater adventure. Read exciting stories by Mike Adamson, Alfred D. Byrd, Demetri Capetanopoulos, J. Woolston Carr, Maya Chhabra, Eric Choi, Corrie Garrett, Andrew Gudgel, Nikoline Kaiser, James J.C. Kelly, M. W. Kelly, Jason J. McCuiston, Gregory L. Norris, Allison Tebo, Stephen R. Wilk, and Michael D. Winkle.

Prices are rising for everything else, but for this book—at least for a while—the price has dropped. When it comes to good deals, it’s hard to beat this one. Everyone likes a bargain, even—

Poseidon’s Scrive

February 4, 2023Permalink

Sale on Extraordinary Visions – 20% Off!

BearManor Media, Inc., the publisher of Extraordinary Visions: Stories Inspired by Jules Verne is letting the book go for 20% off. The sale only runs through February 4, so hurry.

When you order either the hardcover or paperback version, it will show up at full price until you put the book in your shopping cart. Then you’ll see the discount.

As a reminder, the North American Jules Verne Society sponsored their first-ever anthology of stories written by modern authors, each inspired by Verne’s works. Not only does the book contain thirteen wonderful tales, but each story is accompanied by an original illustration from the earliest publications of Jules Verne’s novels. In an appendix in the back, you’ll find a complete listing of all of his writings.

You had this book on your to-read list, but never got around to buying it yet. Now’s your chance to grab it at a discounted price. For the hardcover version, click here, and for the paperback, click here.

Forgot to mention: one of the co-editors of this anthology is—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 2, 2023Permalink

Do You Log Your Reading?

Writers should read. I’m rather organized about it, maybe bordering on anal. This week marks twenty years since I started keeping a log of my reading.

My spreadsheet started in January 2003. Since then, I’ve read 637 books. Fiction comprised 67% of these. Over those two decades, I’ve averaged 12.6 days per book.

In my spreadsheet, I note the date I finished, the title, author, and whether it’s fiction or nonfiction. For text-type books (print or ebook) I enter the number of pages and compute pages read per day. For audiobooks, I note the number of hours and compute the hours listened per day.

For print and ebooks, I’ve read an average of 16.7 pages per day and averaged 31.6 days to finish a book. The average audiobook took me only 6.9 days to complete, listening for an average 1.5 hours a day.

In an average year, I read 31.9 books, but that varied a lot. One year I only read 8, and another year I read 58.

I’ve consumed books in various formats—178 print books, 21 ebooks, 301 audiobooks on CD, 85 audiobooks on cassette (not many of those lately), and 52 downloaded audiobooks. Therefore, I’ve listened to 69% of the books and read the text of the remaining 31%.

If it sounds like I’m bragging, believe me, I’m not. I’m disappointed I didn’t read much more. This is an admission of failure, not a proud boast.

What sort of books do I read? I don’t note the genres in my spreadsheet, but much of the fiction is scifi. In nonfiction, I’m eclectic—all over the map.

In addition to the log, for the past 9 of those 20 years, I’ve posted reviews on Goodreads and Amazon of the books I read. That totals about 244 reviews. I’m not always kind in my reviews, but I try to be fair, noting strengths and weaknesses of each book. If I support other writers by reviewing their work, perhaps some will return the favor. Any review, whether good or bad, can help sales.

I’ve noticed my reading habits changing over the years. I used to read during my commute to and from work, either reading on the subway or listening to audiobooks in the car. I also read on the plane when traveling for work. Since my retirement, I’ve begun reading before breakfast, and still listen to audiobooks when traveling by car and I read on the plane when I fly.

Do you keep a record of the books you read? If not, should you start? Up to you, of course, but let me caution you first. Human nature is such that you get more of what you measure and less of what you don’t. If you start logging your reading, you will read more, but only at the expense of something else you’ll be doing less.

How does my reading data stack up against the average person? According to Gallup, the average American reads 12.6 books per year, the lowest average in 30 years, down from a high of 18.5 in 1999. The Penn Book Center found CEOs read a great deal, with Bill Gates reading about 50 books a year—a good goal.

There’s an app called Basmo that will log your reading for you. I’ve never tried it, but it looks easy to use, and it does all the spreadsheet calculating stuff. Using that app might inspire you to read more.

Without much effort, and with the aid of a log or logging app, you should be able to read much more than—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 29, 2023Permalink

Learning to Write Stories—Analysis or Practice?

What’s the best way to learn how to write stories? Should you just start writing a lot and work to improve? Or should you study the works of the best writers and understand their techniques before setting fingers to keyboard yourself? Or a combination of the two?

Image from Picjumbo

A writer friend enrolled in a literary master’s degree program and took a short story workshop class. The instructor told the students to dissect a literary work and analyze it. My friend discovered the entire workshop would consist of these analyses, and suggested to the instructor that students wouldn’t actually learn to write stories that way.

Picking a good metaphor, my friend said you can’t learn to build a house by taking apart other houses and studying them. You have to learn by doing.

The instructor disagreed, leaving my friend dissatisfied with that conclusion to the argument.

Let’s call the instructor’s way the ‘analytical approach’ and my friend’s way the ‘practice approach.’ (Note: I don’t mean to imply my friend only wrote and never read—this student objected to the 100% analytical approach imposed by the instructor.)

Who’s right? Both approaches seen to hold some merit, unless taken to extremes. A person who just analyzes famous writer’s works may develop expertise in analysis but never write a story of value. A writer who never reads seems equally unlikely to produce enjoyable prose.

I envision an experiment performed in two classrooms of second or third graders. One class simply writes stories without prompts. The other spends a year studying high quality children’s literature and discussing those books, and then the students write a story at the end. Which classroom’s students would end up crafting the best stories?

Imagine a line, a spectrum, with the pure ‘analytical approach’ at one end and the pure ‘practice approach’ at the other. My guess is, few of the great authors cluster at either end. They learned to write classic stories by some combination of approaches—by analysis and by practice. Perhaps an optimum exists on that curve, and I suspect it’s past the midpoint, toward the ‘practice approach’ end.

We might gain further insight on this by considering the artificial intelligence program ChatGPT. You may ask this chatbot to write a short story, and even prompt it with a subject, setting, mood, and style. The program will produce a short story for you in minutes.

How does ChapGPT do that? From what I’ve read, ChatGPT’s developers gave the chatbot many, many such prompts, graded the results, and provided feedback to the program regarding the grades. This seems analogous to the practice approach.

To produce a short story for you, ChatGPT scours the internet for information about the words in your prompt (for example, the subject, setting, mood, style, or other parameters you provided). That research seems analogous to the analytical approach.

Thus it appears ChatGPT learned to write short stories by some combination of approaches, someplace between the ends of the spectrum.

Note: ChatGPT does much more than write short stories. I don’t mean to sell it short. It also writes poems, essays, the answers to questions, and accomplishes many other tasks involving text.

In the end, my friend learned little about how to write a short story from the course. The analysis of classic short stories seemed, to my friend, better suited to undergraduate or even high school level, rather than a master’s degree course.

When learning to build a house, examining other houses helps, but so does building one yourself, and that’s similar to learning to write.

An appropriate mix of the analytical and practice approaches seems the best choice, at least for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 22, 2023Permalink

On Your Mark—Racing in Fiction

Few events excite us as much as a race, a competition of speed. Sports fans love racing. Readers love to read about races, and writers rush to fill that need.

Image from Pixabay

For this post, I use the term ‘race’ to mean a contest of speed, not a means of differentiating people based on physical characteristics.

In fiction, a race allows a writer to introduce thrills and tension, to reveal a character’s traits, and to heighten conflict. Races often pit the protagonist against either an antagonist or against the steady ticking of a clock, which becomes a sort of inanimate antagonist.

Often, fictional racers compete for high stakes—a prize of some sort, or defeat of an internal demon, or even the character’s life.

A quick search revealed many books featuring a race, a tiny sampling. I’ll list the ones I found by category.

  • Footrace (Flanagan’s Run by Tom McNab, The Running Man by Richard Bachman/Stephen King)
  • Boat (Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne)
  • Auto (Thunder Road by William Campbell Gault, Return to Daytona by W.E. Butterworth, The Twelve-Cylinder Screamer by James McM. Douglas, Hover Car Racer by Matthew Reilly)
  • Bicycle (Bad to the Bone by James Waddington, The Rider by Tim Krabbé)
  • Horse Racing (Iliad by Homer [chariot racing], Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand, Thinking Racehorse by Jimmy Tudeski
  • Swimming (Swimming by Nicola Keegan, The Sea of Light by Jenifer Levin, Barracuda by Christos Tsiolkas)

Techniques used in fictional race stories may include:

  • competitors sizing each other up before the start;
  • a large crowd, including characters of importance to the protagonist;
  • lead changes during the race;
  • emotional swings as the protagonist experiences sadness or dread at the thought of losing, and exhilaration and joy about the likelihood of winning;
  • a breakdown or falter by the protagonist, perhaps caused by the antagonist;
  • a redoubling of effort by the protagonist near the end, digging deep, going beyond previously assumed capabilities;
  • a close, disputed finish;
  • an overturning of the race results based on a rule violation or some other plot contrivance; and
  • the protagonist winning or losing the race, and learning something valuable.

Races form a central part of the plot in two of my stories.

In “The Wind-Sphere Ship,” two triremes race each other, one powered by rowers and the other by steam. An alternate history (or more accurately, a ‘secret history’) tale, it imagines the Roman inventor Heron converting his steam-powered ‘wind-sphere’ toy into a means of propelling a ship.

My story 80 Hours pits a protagonist against the clock. She accepts a TV game show challenge to travel around the world in eighty hours for a prize of $3 Million.

If you’re a writer stuck for an idea, consider a story about a race of some sort. Feel your adrenaline flowing. Step up to the line. On your mark. Get set. Go! See if you can outrace—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 15, 2023Permalink