Author Archives: Poseidon's Scribe

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

Writing Without Electricity

Recently I endured a power outage lasting over 38 hours. I’m not complaining about the outage. Many people have gone without electricity much longer than that.

Up until the dawn of the 20th Century, all people went without electrical power for their entire lives. However, many of us have become dependent on those tiny electrons flowing through wires, and it’s a major disruption when those particles stop moving.

Like most people, writers fall prey to this dependency We type on computer keyboards, we conduct research online, we write by the light of electric bulbs. It’s hard to imagine writing without these things. It is even possible?

Yes, of course it is. I wrote the rough draft of this post with pen and paper. I could have written it by candlelight, but used battery powered lights. Later, when the emergency was over, I transcribed and edited it on a computer. In fact, I create most of my first drafts—fiction stories and blogposts—using pen and paper.

I’m not suggesting you do that. You should write by whatever mechanism suits you, using the tools you prefer, when available. (Note: chiseling words into marble can be slow going).

All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t lose hope when the power goes out. You can satisfy your urge to write by different means.

You might even enjoy the pen-and-paper method. Freed from the computer, your writing might take a different direction. You might write about different subjects or explore new tones, settings, characters, or themes.

When the power comes back on, you can revert back to your accustomed methods. But you’ll always know you have a reliable backup.

The electricity’s back on here, but who knows when it will go out again? At least a simple power outage won’t slow down writing progress for you or for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 21, 2021Permalink

Has It Been 10 Years Already?

I started this Poseidon’s Scribe blog in January 2011, so it seems I’ve been doing this for a decade now. I’m closing in on 600 blog posts (this is my 587th). Hard to believe Poseidon’s Scribe is ten years old.

It was very kind of author Todd Sullivan to interview me on the subject of blogging discipline. You can watch the interview on YouTube.

In fact, I’ve included a new Interviews tab on my website, so you can read or view all the interviews of your favorite blogger and author.

Back to Todd Sullivan’s interview of me. In that video, I provided the following overall advice about blogs:

  • Valuable content. Provide useful information to readers.
  • Quality writing. Keep posts brief, interesting, and well written.
  • Clean appearance. Make your site uncluttered and easy to navigate.
  • Periodic posts. Establish a rhythm of posting and stick to it.

Here’s what I advised about starting a blog:

  • Write down why you want to blog. What’s your niche?
  • Identify your intended audience. Whom are you writing to?
  • What might your audience want to know, that you can provide?
  • Write down 20 topics for your first 20 blogposts
  • Add to that list as you come across other ideas
  • Commit to posting on a regular schedule (helps you, readers, and site popularity)
  • Don’t expect instant followers, comments, or notice, let alone fame.

This was what I said about writing individual blogposts:

  • Craft an interesting and useful subject line. Numbers catch readers’ eyes, as do the words you, your, and you’re.
  • Include an image or video with your posts
  • Start with a rough outline before writing, but be willing to deviate from it.
  • Edit by imagining you’re a reader just surfing to that post. Cut boring stuff. No long paragraphs. Keep the overall post short.
  • Proofread before publishing

To supplement the advice I gave in the interview, I’d add this—it’s best not to dedicate your blog to the craft of writing. The net is saturated with writers writing about writing. Consider blogging about the subjects you write about instead. If your fiction focuses on certain settings, or characters, or themes, write about them.

I’ll go further than that. Consider not blogging at all. Set up a website, sure. It can be a fairly static one, with your bio, your bibliography, your scheduled appearances, etc. But think about this before you start blogging: time spent blogging is time you could be spending on your fiction.

Back in 2011, experts advised all beginning writers to blog. It was, and remains, a good way to increase your online footprint and to raise your site ranking in searches for the topics you blog about.

However, I’m not sure it increases sales of your fiction, or improves the quality of your stories. Think about that before you start a blog.

If your goal is better fiction, or more sales, work on your fiction and your marketing.

For me, though, a decade-old habit is hard to break. You can look forward to more years of steady blogging from—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 14, 2021Permalink

Happy Birthday, Jules Verne!

He’s looking good, for a 193-year-old.

That’s the thing about great writers of the past, they still speak to us. In a sense, they live forever.

Would you expect there’d be an active fan club devoted to you, in a foreign country, 116 years after your death? In Verne’s case, there are several. The one I’m most familiar with is the North American Jules Verne Society.

A couple of months ago, I mentioned the NAJVS is sponsoring an anthology of short fiction, the first of those it’s ever done. The working title for the anthology is Extraordinary Visions: Stories Inspired by Jules Verne. I’m fortunate enough to be part of the editing team.

That call for submissions is still active and NAJVS will be accepting stories (and artwork) until April 30. For more details, click here.

So far, we’ve received some good story submissions. However, we could use more stories based on the full range of Verne’s oeuvre. To start creative fluids coursing through your veins, allow me to mention that Jules Verne wrote about:

  • A 35-day balloon trip over Africa (Five Weeks in a Balloon)
  • A voyage to the North Pole with a mutiny, an ice palace, and a volcano (The Adventures of Captain Hatteras)
  • A hike many miles underground, encountering a subterranean ocean and prehistoric animals (Journey to the Center of the Earth)
  • A journey to the Moon aboard a projectile launched from a cannon (From the Earth to the Moon)
  • A globe-girdling quest for a lost father, knowing only his geographic latitude (In Search of the Castaways)
  • A trek across Russia by courier who can’t see where he’s going (Michael Strogoff)
  • A comet slicing off a chunk of the Earth, with people and animals still on it (Off on a Comet)
  • A family living underground for a decade (The Child of the Cavern)
  • Two men using their halves of an inheritance to establish rival utopian cities (The Begum’s Fortune)
  • A steam-powered mechanical elephant marching across India (The Steam House)
  • A ship-sized helicopter operated by a mad scientist (Robur the Conqueror)
  • An attempt to alter the Earth’s axis (The Purchase of the North Pole)
  • A mysterious Count in a Transylvanian castle, that might have inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula (The Carpathian Castle)
  • A man-made, propeller-driven island (Propeller Island)
  • A vehicle that operates on land, on and beneath the water, and in the air (Master of the World)
  • A plan to flood the Sahara Desert to create an inland sea in North Africa (Invasion of the Sea)
  • A description of Paris nearly 100 years in Verne’s future. (Paris in the Twentieth Century)

Oh, yeah. Verne also wrote a book about a submarine (Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea). In fact, the above list is way, way incomplete.

Still, something on that list should nudge a neuron in your noggin, move your muse to murmuring, and cause you to commence clacking on your keyboard.

Today, his birthday, is a fine day to channel your inner Verne. Allow him to inspire you to write a great story, or create a cover image. Send it in. Eagerly waiting to read your tale or view your art is a group of NAJVS editors, who happen to include—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 8, 2021Permalink

Time to Re-Enlist

How do I get myself into these things? Hot on the heels of 20,000 Leagues Remembered, I’m now co-editing another anthology. This one is called Re-Enlist, from Pole to Pole Publishing. My co-editor is the wonderfully talented author and editor Kelly A. Harmon.

Re-Enlist will consist of previously published short stories (reprints) related to the military and war. Re-Enlist will join Pole to Pole’s previous anthologies in the Re-Imagined series: Re-Launch, Re-Enchant, Re-Quest and Re-Terrify.

If you’ve written a dark SF tale that’s military in nature, a short story between 3000 and 5000 words that’s been published before and the rights have reverted back to you, send it our way.

For all the details and to submit, go to this site.

Will you Re-Enlist? I know one editor who’s anxious to read your short story submission, and that’s—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 5, 2021Permalink

Putting on Your Writer’s Hat

Metaphorically, we all wear many hats. That is, we have many roles in life. For some of us, one of those roles is Writer. Let’s explore that.

I got the inspiration to write this post from this one, by Brian Feinblum.

You started your life with the role of daughter or son, and may still have that role. Maybe you’re a sister or brother, spouse, parent, employee, grandparent, volunteer. Most likely you’re a citizen, too. These are all examples of possible roles in your life. When you think about it, you probably have a good number of roles, between two and twenty or more at any one time. If you care about being a good person, you work hard to fulfill all of your roles well.

Problem is, it’s a balancing act. Each role requires time, and you only have so much of that. They all compete for your precious hours. That requires you to divide your time, keeping each plate spinning as best you can.

On occasion, you must devote nearly full time to one role and set the others aside. When someone you love becomes sick or injured, for example, your role involving that person must take precedence and the others must wait until the emergency is over. When there’s a major project at work, your employee or boss role predominates until the project is done.

When you must set several roles aside like that, the writer role is especially problematic. It’s a self-assigned role, based on your love of an activity, not a person. Unlike the role of spouse or employee, if you neglect your writing, it will patiently wait in the background, not complaining or otherwise reacting. If you set it aside for weeks, months, or years, there will be no adverse consequences.

Oh, your muse may squeal a bit. That voice inside, the one urging you to write, will yell loudly for a while. Eventually, that voice will fade and you’ll hear only an occasional whimper.

However, if you’re lucky enough, if life’s other roles allow you the time, you’ll remain a writer. You’ll carve out the time as best you can.

There are ways to make the best use of that time. Although the general guidance I’ll present below works for all your roles, I’m focused on your writer role.

In his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen R. Covey recommends you take each role and set long-term goals, then make shorter term plans to achieve those goals, then set aside time each week to schedule the most important tasks to advance the plans.

The goals and plans don’t all have to be writing projects (stories). The tasks that support them can also include:

  • attending writing or genre conferences,
  • reading books about writing,
  • taking writing classes,
  • self-assigned writing assignments to work on particular weaknesses,
  • researching aspects of writing you’re curious about or need help with,
  • critiquing other writer’s works,
  • reading classic fiction,
  • increasing your online footprint,
  • blogging,
  • updating your website,
  • getting an author photo taken, or
  • hundreds of other ideas that might help you achieve your writing goals.

This needn’t be a complex or overly organized process. Mold it to suit you.

Uh oh. Another role is beckoning. Time to take off the Writer hat of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 31, 2021Permalink