Fluent in French, English, German, Latin, and Bundeli
Adept in using Google to translate 107 languages
Electrical experience
Used electric rails to shock Papuan natives
Electrically shocked self during home repairs
Wealth
Immensely rich from salvaging treasure
Often imagined being rich
Royalty
Born a prince
Listened to music by Prince
I know, it’s eerie, right? It’s not like I set out to pattern my life after Captain Nemo. I doubt very much that I’m somehow related to him, or that I’m a reincarnation of him. However, I wouldn’t dismiss those possibilities out of hand, either.
At this point, I’d like to ease the fears of any mariners reading this post. Despite my many similarities to Captain Nemo, I have no immediate plans to voyage around the world’s oceans, ramming ships along the way. Sailors of all vessels at sea are safe from any attack by me.
I promise to use my Nemo-like powers only for good, like co-editing 20,000 Leagues Remembered, an anthology recently launched by Pole to Pole Publishing.
The subject of this post might seem silly, even condescending. You already know how to read, or you wouldn’t have gotten this far into my post.
Perhaps I should have titled it ‘How to Get the Most Enjoyment Out of Reading an Anthology,’ but that’s too long and cumbersome.
I have some experience with anthologies. I’ve read many dozens of them, my stories have appeared in sixteen of them, and I’ve recently co-edited one. Allow me to share my recommended eight steps for thoroughly enjoying an anthology.
Read one of the stories. For most anthologies, the order doesn’t matter. The editors had reasons for organizing the stories as they did, but you can read them in any order.
Ponder the story you just read before going on to the next one. You might need this pondering time to ‘get’ what the author was saying, since it’s not always obvious right after reading.
Jot down some notes about the story, including its most memorable aspects and whether you liked it or not.
Repeat Steps 1 through 3 until you’ve finished the anthology.
Pick your favorite stories. Perhaps there are as many as five or as few as one, but I’m sure you’ll have favorites.
Write and post a review of the anthology online, perhaps at Goodreads or anobii or at the site of the bookseller where you got the book. In your review, don’t be afraid to mention your favorite stories by title and author name. Consider including brief comments about why you liked these stories. If you have comments about the anthology as a whole, include those too.
Look up, online, the authors of your favorite stories. See what else they’ve written that you might want to read next.
Contact those authors who are still alive and let them know how much you enjoyed their story, or ask any questions you may have. Most authors love hearing from fans.
I know this eight-step process seems much more difficult than simply reading the anthology and going on to the next book on your extensive ‘must read’ list. But the act of taking notes on the stories will help you remember them better. Writing reviews will, in time, make you a more discerning reader, able to extract more meaning and enjoyment from stories. Contacting favorite authors could result in good additions to your ‘must read’ list, books you’re sure to enjoy.
Now that you know how to read an anthology, may I recommend one? It’s 20,000 Leagues Remembered, co-edited by yours truly and just released by Pole to Pole Publishing. It’s a sesquicentennial tribute to Jules Verne’s amazing undersea masterwork, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. You can purchase it at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple iBooks, or Kobo.
You have to admit, the process I described is a fine way to read an anthology. You might even call it The Anthology-Reading Method of—
Sometimes an author belatedly tries to force-fit two or more stories into the same world timeline, but it doesn’t work well. Just ask the creators of Star Trek, Star Wars, and the writers of just about any long-running comic book series.
Jules Verne tried to tie three of his novels together, recognized the chronological errors, attempted to explain them away, and ended up confusing things even more.
In Verne’s novel In Search of the Castaways (also called Captain Grant’s Children), the main characters abandon the traitorous Tom Ayrton on a deserted island in March 1865.
In the subsequent novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, three main characters are taken aboard the Nautilus in November 1867.
So far, so good. However, in The Mysterious Island, the castaways find Ayrton in December 1866. Ayrton states he was abandoned 12 years earlier, in March 1855. (Not just less than 2 years, as simple subtraction would indicate.)
Verne and his publisher included this footnote in the text:
The events which have just been briefly related are taken from a work which some of our readers have no doubt read, and which is entitled, Captain Grant’s Children. They will remark on this occasion, as well as later, some discrepancy in the dates; but later again, they will understand why the real dates were not at first given.
Thank you very much, Jules. That helps a lot.
Later in The Mysterious Island, in October 1869, the castaways come across Captain Nemo. He states it has been 16 years since the three guests came aboard the Nautilus. (It had been just shy of 2 years, but maybe time moves slower on that island.)
Again, Verne and his publisher included a footnote:
The history of Captain Nemo has, in fact, been published under the title of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Here, therefore, will apply the observation already made as to the adventures of Ayrton with regard to the discrepancy of dates. Readers should therefore refer to the note already published on this point.
Sooo, Jules, I think you’re saying you know you goofed up, and want your readers to know that you know. However, with two enigmatic footnotes that reference each other, you’re hoping we’ll accept that there’s some logical reason for these hopeless temporal contradictions.
It’s a strange attempt at chronological hand-waving, but we see what happened. Verne’s proclivity for including precise dates in his novels got the best of him. After publishing Captain Grant’s Children, he wished he had set that novel ten years earlier. That way, Ayrton would have been living alone for 12 years rather than 2, and more believably reduced to an uncivilized state.
Similarly, Verne needed a much older Captain Nemo in The Mysterious Island, an aged and lone survivor of his crew in 1869. Only then did Verne wish he’d not already written about a younger and energetic Nemo, and full crew, set in the years 1867-8.
He could have set The Mysterious Island further in the future, but he wanted his castaways to escape from a prison during the American Civil War, so that fixed his start date no later than 1865. He could have left his castaways on Lincoln Island a lot longer, say, 20 years rather than 4, but that’s stretching credibility.
If you had been Jules Verne and faced with these problems, how would you have solved them?
While you’re thinking about that, I can recommend a good book to read. 20,000 Leagues Remembered is a just-released anthology of 16 stories by modern authors, each tale inspired by…well, you can guess.
Verne wrote so many fine novels, he certainly can be pardoned for some botched stitch-up jobs. At least he’s forgiven by—
In the summer of 1947, months before something fell to Earth near Roswell, New Mexico, the skies above the Pacific Northwest were alive with strange lights and unearthly phenomena. I know this because the Travel Channel’s Mysteries at the Museum told me so. In fact, according to Don Wildman and crew, less than a week passed between the infamous Maury Island Incident and the Kenneth Arnold sighting above Mt. Rainier which introduced the phrase “flying saucer” into the American zeitgeist.
That connection or coincidence was the spark that led to my novel, Project Notebook. The spark, but not the fuel. The origins of this story may go back to 1947, but they also reach farther back into my own history than a late-night binge-watch in early 2017.
Jason J. McCuiston
Like most kids who grew up on action, sci-fi/fantasy, and horror in the 1980s, I was instantly hooked on Chris Carter’s The X-Files when it debuted on Fox in 1993. Aside from having a twenty-year-old’s crush on Gillian Anderson, I loved the conspiracy-theory/dark fantasy vibe of the show. And though I never became more than a casual interloper into the world of ufology, I’ve kept an open mind on the topic and have always found it fascinating.
A decade later, after watching the stunning HBO adaptation of Band of Brothers in 2001, I read not only Stephen E. Ambrose’s book, but also the excellent biography of Major Dick Winters, Biggest Brother by Larry Alexander. These volumes gave me an insight into the Greatest Generation, as well as a glimpse of what my own grandfather, the late Master Sergeant Darius E. McCuiston, U.S. Army, had faced in WWII. While writing Project Notebook, I soon realized that the main character, Captain El Summers is a synthesis of Winters and my Papaw.
In 2006, I found myself in a new life in Knoxville, Tennessee. Part of this new life was my weekly gaming group. We were playing the d20:Modern role-playing game at that time. Wizards of the Coast had just released the Dark Matter supplement for d20:Modern, a campaign setting that leaned heavily into the conspiracy-theory/dark fantasy/darker sci-fi atmosphere of The X-Files. That’s when it occurred to me that the first people most likely to be tapped by the U.S. Government to investigate rumors and reports of UFO’s and aliens would be battle-hardened vets of The Big Two.
So I launched a campaign based on this premise.
Sadly, the game tanked after one session, but the premise hung around in the back of my mind for over a decade. And in the summer of 2017—after two years struggling to break in as a “pro” writer and several nights watching Mysteries at the Museum—I decided to throw that premise at the page and see if it stuck. After writing the first draft of what eventually became Chapter One of Project Notebook, I posted it to a Facebook writing group for feedback. Naturally, it drew a troll quicker than a goat on a bridge. After this individual lambasted my abilities and concepts, I thanked him for his opinion, and sat down to write this story. As much out of spite as anything else.
Writing is about passion, no matter where that passion comes from. Remember that.
I’m honestly glad that troll got under my skin. Being more interested in fantasy than sci-fi and in the eleventh century than the twentieth, I may have never written this story otherwise. I may have never learned so much about the era of my grandparents. I may have never delved so deeply into the lore of ufology. I may have never created these characters for whom I have developed an amazing fondness in the ensuing years of revisions and edits.
I can only hope that you will find El, Red, Olivia, and Bill as endearing should you decide to follow their adventures in Project Notebook.
Jason J. McCuiston
Thanks, Jason. I know my readers will seek you out on Facebook and Twitter. Then they’ll buy your book on Amazon.
Mobilis in Mobili—the motto of Jules Verne’s Captain Nemo. Or should that be Mobilis in Mobile? Let’s consider it.
Why even ask the question? Well, Verne’s publishers went back and forth, using mobili in some versions and mobile in others. It seems even they were confused.
The two are Latin words. I’m no expert in that language, but as I understand it, mobili is pronounced mob´il-ee and mobile is pronounced mob´il-ay.
Here’s the text from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, as it appears in the 1993 translation by Walter James Miller and Frederick Paul Walker:
“Each utensil, spoon, fork, knife, plate, bore a letter encircled by a motto, of which this is an exact facsimile:
Motto from Wikipedia
‘Mobile within the mobile element!’ That Latin motto was certainly appropriate for this submarine craft, so long as the preposition ‘in’ was translated as ‘within’ and not ‘upon.’ The letter N was no doubt the initial of the enigmatic person in command at the bottom of the ocean.”
Miller and Walker use their own motto image, with mobile. They state that mobili is plural and mobile is singular. Since Verne’s explanation in French (“l’element mobile”) is singular, they reason that the Latin word should be singular as well, hence mobile.
What does the motto mean? My old copy of Cassell’s New Latin Dictionary gives several meanings for mobilis including movable, easy to move, active, rapid, pliable, flexible, changeable, inconstant, with quick motion, easily, and quickly.
So we have ‘moving in a moving thing’ or ‘living free in a free world’ or ‘changing with change.’ Those first two meanings presume a singular object (moving thing or free world), so the singular mobile seems more appropriate for them.
At this point, many of you are thinking of the Monty Python Latin lesson scene in the movie Life of Brian. Now imagine John Cleese as Professor Aronnax staring at the Nautilus’ tableware and correcting Captain Nemo’s Latin!
Now that your head is spinning from that language discussion, permit me to urge you to buy and read the new anthology from Pole to Pole Publishing—20,000 Leagues Remembered. It’s available in ebook form now, and soon in paperback.
To finish up, I’ll confess to an unscholarly preference for mobili. It looks more like a Latin word than mobile, which is identical to the English word mobile.
Still, despite my preference, I guess I must be flexible and willing to change, and must therefore bow to the experts. Mobilis in Mobile it is. As you can see, there are few people more mobilis than—
Having just launched the new anthology 20,000 Leagues Remembered, I took the opportunity to interview one of the ‘crewmembers.’ Please welcome author Maya Chhabra aboard our literary Nautilus. Readers will enjoy her story, “The Maelstrom,” and will want to find out more about her and read her other works.
Maya Chhabra is the author of the middle grade historical novel Stranger on the Home Front (Jolly Fish Press), dealing with Indian immigration and the Indian independence movement. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in Daily Science Fiction, Cast of Wonders, and Strange Horizons. Visit her online at Maya Reads Books, or on Twitter as @mayachhabra.
Here’s the interview:
Poseidon’s Scribe: How did you get started writing? What prompted you?
Maya Chhabra: I don’t actually know! I’ve been writing since I was a little kid, probably because I liked books so much. I got started with poetry because my aunt is a poet, but I don’t know how I got started with prose.
P.S.: Who are some of your influences? What are a few of your favorite books?
M.C.: My influences for poetry include Sonya Taaffe, another author of mythological poetry. Prose influences depend on the project I’m working on. For example, for Stranger on the Home Front, I was influenced by Laurence Yep’s middle grade stories about growing up Chinese in different parts of US history, particularly his book The Traitor. I wanted to do a similar sort of story about early Punjabi immigrants. The cross-cultural friendship in The Traitor also influenced my portrayal of Margaret and her best friend Betty.
P.S.: You’ve had a great number of poems published. Do you find your skill as a poet complements your prose writing? Do you find yourself thinking in poetic imagery, rhythms, and word sounds before converting to prose?
M.C.: For me, they’re very different, because a poem is so compact and closed. It has to hit its theme very quickly and hard, rather than a novel where you have time to explore the theme. However, I do try to make my prose aesthetically pleasing and use metaphorical language.
P.S.: Many of your poems touch on classical or mythological references. Why is that?
M.C.: I grew up with D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths and it made a big impression on me.
P.S.: Is there a common attribute that ties your fiction together (genre, character types, settings, themes) or are you a more eclectic author?
M.C.: I think I’m definitely pretty eclectic, but my favorite genres to work in are fantasy, historical, and SF. I don’t really write contemporary, not since I was a teenager just starting out. I like the setting of my work to be removed from everyday life.
Clicking image will bring up Amazon page
P.S.: You’ve written a novel, Stranger on the Home Front, to be published in 2021. Please tell us a little about the book’s protagonist, Margaret Singh, and the conflicts she faces.
M.C.: Margaret is a mixed-race girl growing up in WWI-era San Francisco. Her father is an immigrant from India who’s involved with a radical pro-independence group based out of the US, and when the group goes on trial, he’s implicated, leading to difficulties for his family. This is based on the Hindu Conspiracy Trial, at the time the most expensive trial in US history, which exposed a link between the Central Powers and an Indian independence movement to sabotage the British Empire. Part of the conflict has to do with the perception of disloyalty, and that was influenced by my having been about Margaret’s age during the lead-up to the Iraq War. Reading about WWI, I saw many similarities in the “if you’re not with us, you’re against us” mindset. The friendship and conflict between German-American Betty, who wants nothing more than to prove her patriotism despite the suspicion others have of her heritage, and Margaret, whose radical family is out of step with the nationalistic mood of the country, is really the heart of the novel.
P.S.: Where do you get the ideas for your stories?
M.C.: Often I start with a pre-existing story, like a myth or fairy tale, or a bit of history. I like to show an angle on things that people might not have thought of before, even if they’re familiar with the history or story.
P.S.: Your story, “The Maelstrom” appears in 20,000 Leagues Remembered. Jules Verne would have called it a pourquoi, or origin, story. It tells a version of the backstory of Captain Nemo, (originally Prince Dakkar). How did you come up with the idea for this story?
M.C.: I love 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and I’d been fascinated by Prince Dakkar’s story since finding out about it from The Mysterious Island, especially because I basically grew up on the story of the Indian independence movement. Prince Dakkar is obviously fictional and belongs to a generation before the independence movement really took off—he’s royalty, whereas that movement was led by lawyers and other middle-class people. But his feelings toward colonialism as described by Jules Verne definitely resonated. I’d always wanted to explore his story and this anthology was the perfect opportunity. I also appreciated that Jules Verne, despite not really being ahead of his time on racial and ethnic issues, was able to portray the resentment towards imperialism with such feeling, to the point where the original English translator had to tone it down and make the narration more condescending to make it palatable to a British audience.
P.S.: “The Maelstrom” depicts Prince Dakkar’s wife as a strong and determined woman, a very admirable character. How do you see her as different from, or similar to, Margaret Singh of Stranger on the Home Front?
M.C.: Margaret is a shy girl who knows, as a mixed-race kid in a predominantly white environment, that she’s outnumbered and only conditionally accepted. She learns over the course of the story to stand up for herself, and also to realize that other people are also going through similar conflicts between social acceptance and integrity. The princess, Prince Dakkar’s wife, is far from being shy. She’s been raised in a life of privilege, but also stands out as unusual for a woman of her time. I thought she made a good partner for a strong personality like that of Captain Nemo, explaining his longstanding grief for her.
Poseidon’s Scribe: What advice can you offer aspiring writers, particularly things you wish you had known when starting out?
Maya Chhabra: I’d still consider myself an aspiring writer, as I’m trying to get an agent for my YA fantasy novel Thorns. But my advice would be: send stuff out. Don’t let rejection get you down, and even if it does, keep putting yourself out there. Don’t be shy about approaching editors for opportunities, but do your research first.
Today’s the day! It’s launch day for the new anthology 20,000 Leagues Remembered. This book was 150 years in the making.
Let me explain. The first publication of Jules Verne’s classic Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea was in serial form. It appeared in two-week intervals in a magazine, the Magasin d’éducation et de recreation, edited by Pierre-Jules Hetzel. Starting on March 20, 1869, the magazine printed a chapter or two in each issue, concluding on June 20, 1870.
The first time the public could read the novel from beginning to end was on that Wednesday in June, the first day of summer, precisely 150 years ago today.
To commemorate the sesquicentennial, Pole to Pole Publishing presents 20,000 Leagues Remembered, an anthology of works by modern authors, each inspired by Verne’s literary masterpiece. Along with the Senior Editor, Kelly A. Harmon, I co-edited the book. It’s the first book I’ve ever edited.
What will you get when you buy this book? You’ll enjoy sixteen short stories, each paying homage to the Father of Science Fiction and his novelized underwater voyage. They span the spectrum from adventures set at a time contemporary with Verne’s tale, to more thoughtful historical pieces exploring various aspects of the novel, to stories set in our present day, to others that defy easy categorization.
Our table of contents includes: “The Ghost of Captain Nemo” by J. Woolston Carr, “Water Whispers” by Gregory L. Norris, “At Strange Depths” by Jason J. McCuiston, “The Maelstrom” by Maya Chhabra, “The Game of Hare and Hounds” by Stephen R. Wilk, “Recruiter” by Andrew Gudgel, “Nemo’s World” by James J.C. Kelly, “The Silent Agenda” by Mike Adamson, “Fools Rush In” by Allison Tebo, “An Evening at the World’s Edge” by Alfred D. Byrd, “A Concurrent Process” by Corrie Garrett, “Homework Help From No One” by Demetri Capetanopoulos, “Leviathan” by Michael D. Winkle, “Last Year’s Water” by Nikoline Kaiser, “Farragut’s Gambit” by M.W. Kelly, and “Raise the Nautilus” by Eric Choi.
It’s not necessary to have read Verne’s book first. You can still enjoy these stories on their own. You might gain a deeper appreciation of them if you dive into the original first, though. For dedicated Verne scholars, be aware that some of our authors scattered ‘easter eggs’ in their stories for you—little references (some quite obscure) that will make you smile.
Where, you’re wondering, can you get your own copy of this book? I thought you’d never ask. It’s available as an ebook at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.
We’ll launch a paperback version as soon as we can, likely in a month or two. If you read my blogposts or follow me on social media, you won’t miss that announcement.
As Ned Land said, “Professor Aronnax…You talk about some future day… I’m talking about now.” Now, as in today. Launch day. After 150 years, the Nautilus sails again, thanks to Kelly A. Harmon and—
We all know Professor Aronnax and his companions traveled 20,000 leagues under the sea in Captain Nemo’s submarine, the Nautilus. Just how deep is that? It turns out, that’s the wrong question.
Let’s set that aside a moment.
You can certainly sense the excitement building—on the web, in the bookstores, and in conversations with everyone you meet. Less than a week to go, now, until the launch of the new anthology 20,000 Leagues Remembered. On Saturday, June 20, you can celebrate the 150th anniversary of the marvelous Verne novel. Remembered is a brand-new collection of stories by modern authors, each tale inspired by Jules Verne’s masterpiece. Pre-order it here.
Back to our question. What, exactly, is a league? Like most obsolete units of measurement, there is no precise answer. It dates from ancient Rome, when the leuga meant about 7500 pedes (Roman feet), or about 1.4 of our statue miles.
According to Wikipedia, the league has taken on a wide variety of lengths over the millennia. It ranged from the Roman length of 1.4 miles all the way to the Norwegian league of 11.3 miles.
That doesn’t help us much. Maybe the better question is, what did Jules Verne think a league was? Even in his time, the unit was falling out of favor. It had taken on a vague, almost poetic meaning. At one syllable, it rolled off the tongue much easier than ‘kilometer’ did.
According to the annotated Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, translated by Walter James Miller and Frederick Paul Walter, Verne used a league of 2.16 nautical miles, or 2.49 statute miles.
So, 20,000 of Verne’s leagues would be nearly 50,000 miles. The deepest known spot in any ocean is Challenger Deep in the Mariana Trench, with a depth of 6.79 standard miles or 3.14 leagues.
Let’s say we stay in Verne’s fictional world. In the chapter titled “The Sargasso Sea,” the Nautilus reached a depth of 16,000 meters, which Verne translated as 4 vertical leagues.
Even if the ocean stretched all the way to Earth’s center, it could only be about 3,963 miles, or 1,592 leagues deep.
Clearly, Verne intended that the Nautilus travel 20,000 leagues horizontally in its path through the oceans. Verne later wrote a novel titled La Jangada – Huit Cents lieues sur l’Amazone, or Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon. Nobody would expect anyone to travel 800 leagues downward in a river.
For a humorous treatment of the question, we can turn to the TV show Saturday Night Live. They ran a skit, and I believe it was in Season 19, Episode 17, which originally aired on April 9, 1994. It satirized the 1954 Disney movie (then 4 decades old), and had Kelsey Grammer as Captain Nemo, Phil Harman as Ned Land, Mike Myers as Professor Aronnax, and Rob Schneider as Conseil. Here’s the transcript, and here’s a partial video clip.
The next time someone asks you how deep a league is, you have a good answer. Or, you can simply refer them to—
Here’s a thought experiment for you. It’s 1868, and your close friend, Jules Verne, is deathly ill. Since you’re an author too, he’s asked you to write a novel in his stead. All he’s got is a concept—a ship that travels underwater—and a title: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. You cannot refuse your friend. What will your novel be like?
Remember, nobody has ever written a novel involving a submarine. Yours will be the first. You jot down some plot ideas:
A single nation is the first to build and use a working military submarine. Perhaps it’s your beloved France; or the mighty seapower, Great Britain; or the science-loving and adventurous United States.
Some wealthy and inventive person builds a submarine and uses it purely for exploration and the advancement of Science.
A wealthy and evil man builds a submarine and uses it for vengeance against those who have wronged him.
A man is convinced Atlantis exists, and builds a submarine to search for it.
A sailor lost someone close (a brother?) to a specific and recognizable giant squid, and builds a submarine to pursue and destroy the creature. (If Melville’s Moby-Dick was successful, this could be too.)
Perhaps combine the scientist and the vengeance-obsessed pirate, and tell the story from his (or her?) point of view.
A sailor falls in love with a woman he believes is a mermaid, but she dives underwater. He builds a submarine and travels 20,000 leagues in search of her.
A treasure-hunter builds a submarine and recovers gold and other valuables from sunken ships.
A nation announces a huge prize for whichever privately-built submarine wins a 20,000-league race.
A clever criminal builds a submarine and robs banks along various coasts, escaping underwater. A detective hero must track him down.
After an hour, you’ve written down these ideas and another 20 more. Now you must select the best one. Will your eventual novel be as good as the one Jules would have written, had he not become ill?
We’ll never know, of course. It’s just a thought experiment. In real life, Verne wrote his marvelous novel himself, without your help. For its first publication, it was serialized in the Magasin d’éducation et de recreation, edited by Pierre-Jules Hetzel. The issue containing the final chapter came out on June 20, 1870.
That means June 20 of this year, just 13 days from now, is the 150th anniversary, the sesquicentennial, of that undersea classic. To commemorate this date, I’ve partnered with Kelly A. Harmon, Senior Editor at Pole to Pole Publishing, to edit an anthology of short stories inspired by Verne’s masterwork.
Titled 20,000 Leagues Remembered, it will launch on June 20. We’ve chosen 16 wonderful stories for the volume, each taking a different approach, but all born from a love of Jules Verne’s fantastic adventure novel. Each one captures some aspect of the adventure, the wonder, and the drama of Twenty Thousand Leagues.
Perhaps Verne’s book is no longer new to you, but these 16 stories will be. Beginning on June 20, you’ll be able to buy the ebook version of our anthology at Pole to Pole Publishing’s website or at other online booksellers. Pole to Pole will put out a paperback print version as soon as possible after that.
Back to that thought experiment. I’m sure you thought of some possible story ideas yourself, in addition to the ones I listed. Feel free to add a comment to this blogpost, sharing one or more of your ideas with—
As a writer, you’re trying to form a daily routine of writing well. Or is that a good habit of writing well? Or a ritual? Let’s clear this up.
According to neuroscience expert Anne-Laure Le Cunff of Ness Labs, all three are periodically repeating actions, but there are differences. I’m going to put my own spin on the ideas Ms. Le Cunff presented in her article.
Routine. This type of action is conscious and deliberate. A routine requires thought and willpower to do. If a strong intent isn’t there each time, you’ll just stop doing the routine, or you’ll delay it until the last minute.
Examples of routines include exercising, cleaning your room, and paying taxes.
Habit. This is an action prompted by an automatic urge, usually triggered by some cue. The closer your mind connects the action to the cue, the more fixed the habit becomes. Habits can be good or bad, and human nature makes it easy to slip into bad ones and easy to slip out of good ones.
Examples of habits include getting up with an alarm clock, brushing teeth after eating, and checking email first after turning on your computer.
Ritual. An action intended to better yourself, not just maintain your existence. It gives you purpose and fulfillment. Your focus is on enjoying the task, not just getting through it.
Examples of rituals include meditation, learning a new language, and practicing a musical instrument.
If you intend to be a good writer, which of the three are you aiming for? To answer that, you need to understand one more concept first—the Habit Loop.
I believe all habits start off as routines. For example, the first time you brushed your teeth, you had to think through the process. It was a routine, requiring intent and concentration. Later, after it became a habit, you performed it automatically, usually right after eating.
How do routines become habits? By using the Habit Loop.
The idea here is to use a cue of some kind to trigger the task, and then reward yourself for completing it. By shortening the time of the cycle, particularly the cue-routine gap and the routine-reward gap, you help ingrain the routine as a habit. That’s what the inward-pointing arrows signify.
How does all this apply to writing? For simplicity, let’s separate writing into three tasks:
Initiation—sitting down to write. I recommend making this a daily habit. Use the Habit Loop to ingrain it, if necessary. For beginning writers, Initiation is the most important task. After all, the other two can’t take place if you don’t plunk yourself down in the chair to write first.
Conceptualization—choosing a genre, constructing a plot, fleshing out characters. I think of this as a ritual, in the sense of being done for the sheer joy of writing. This requires considerable conscious thought and creativity, and should not be considered a chore. Don’t get into a habit rut by writing stories with the same theme, similar characters, common settings, etc. Keep things fresh.
Mechanics—stringing sentences together, choosing words, etc. Some days, this may seem like a ritual, an enjoyable task done for its own sake. Other days, it may seem like a routine, a task requiring thought but one you look forward to completing. Perhaps for truly experienced authors, this becomes more automatic, like a habit.
Is writing a routine, habit, or ritual? Apparently, it is all three. It’s a routine/habit/ritual much loved by—
