My stories are
set in lots of places. I finally mapped all of them to date.
Some anthologies and magazines ask writers to come up with a brief author biography. In my bios, I often state, “I take readers on voyages to far-off places.” I wondered if I could capture all these travels on a single map. Here it is:
On this map, green dots indicate published stories and red ones indicate unpublished stories for which I’ve written at least a first draft. There are some stories in which I don’t specify a geographical location, so I can’t show them on the map. In two of my stories, characters venture underground, and I just showed their departure and return points on the surface.
As far as
coverage goes, things get cluttered in Europe and the United States. Obviously,
I need to write some stories set in Russia, Australia, South America, and
Antarctica.
Some writers
feel they must travel to the settings of their stories and conduct research to
give their tales a sense of credibility. That’s less common with science
fiction writers, for obvious reasons.
I’ve traveled to almost none of my story setting locations, and I don’t think it detracts from reader enjoyment. Today’s readers care more about characters than setting, anyway. They crave stories that explore the mysteries, motives, fears, anxieties, and yearnings of the human mind. That’s much harder territory to depict on a map.
Even so, strange and interesting settings are fun to read about, and often the setting itself brings out all those character qualities. Many of us love ‘journey stories,’ and I’ve shown mine as lines on the map.
Well, enough of all that. Are your bags packed? Have you securely fastened your seat belt? Who knows to what extraordinary places you’ll go next with—
Change is all
around us. It’s amazing to watch, and it tends to follow a single,
characteristic pattern. Even though the pattern repeats, it often surprises us.
That pattern goes by various names, including the Change Curve, the ‘S’ Curve, the Sigmoid Curve, and the Logistic Curve. I’ll call it the ‘S’ Curve, mainly because my name is Steve Southard, and I’m fond of that letter.
Consider a
thing, or entity. As we’ll see, it can be almost anything. It begins in a
period of uncertainty, and may not show much potential at first. Then it
establishes itself, finds a comfortable and promising track, and pursues that. It
enjoys a period of sustained and impressive growth, making minor tweaks, but
generally continuing on its established path. Finally, it reaches some limit,
some constraint it had not previously encountered. That constraint proves its
undoing, and it enters a period of maturity, decline, and termination.
During that
maturity portion, other things/entities/systems compete for supremacy. This is
a period of uncertainty and chaos. It’s unknown which competitor will survive,
but eventually a single winner emerges and becomes the successor, which
experiences its own period of sustained growth, and its own eventual maturity.
As you read my
description of the curve in the previous two paragraphs, I’m guessing you
thought of at least one example of this. The ‘S’ curve resonated with you in
some way and you knew it was true.
Sometimes we can perceive this curve in an erroneous way. If its time-span is long enough, say, a significant fraction of a human lifetime, people observing the entity during its growth phase often assume that phase will continue forever. Why not? It’s been that way a long time. Why shouldn’t it continue upward like an exponential curve? However, few things do.
Consider
automobile engines. At the beginning of the 1900s, it wasn’t clear which type
of engine (steam, electric battery, or gasoline) was superior. The internal
combustion gasoline engine won and became the standard for many decades. An
observer in the 1960s could well assume cars would have gasoline engines
forever. Now pollution has become a problem and that engine has reached its
efficiency limits, so other technologies are beginning to compete.
Consider manned space exploration, as I did in last week’s blog post. During the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs, NASA made steady progress. Observers in the late 1960s could have concluded there would be many follow-on programs in the 1980s, 1990s, and later, taking astronauts to Mars, the asteroids, the outer planets, and eventually, the stars. Instead, manned space exploration encountered constraints such as cost and waning public enthusiasm, so it has remained stalled to this day.
The technologies in my fictional stories all follow that ‘S’ Curve model. Usually my tales take place during the periods of disruption and chaos.
In fact, the story-writing process itself follows the ‘S’ Curve, with little progress during the idea creation stage, then rapid progress as I churn out the first draft, then a slow period of final editing and subsequent drafts before I consider it finished and suitable for submission.
As you
experience change in your life, don’t assume things will remain the same. Know
that all things reach their limits and end. When things seem chaotic, seek out the
winning successor. Despite all this change, you can always count on—
As you may have
heard, July 20, 2019 marked fifty years since a human first set foot on the
Moon. What follows is one fiction writer’s perspective of that event.
Neil Armstrong on the moon
I was eleven years old then, and watched the landing on my family’s small black-and-white TV. I stayed awake to watch the “first step” too, though it occurred close to 10 pm central time. There was no way to watch that live event and not feel pride and awe. Even those who balked at the mission’s expense knew how historic it was.
As a writer of historical technological fiction, I’ve written of flights to the moon occurring before 1969 as well. In “A Tale More True,” a rival of Baron Münchhausen travels to the moon in 1769 using a gigantic clock spring. In “To Be First,” my characters from an alternate Ottoman Empire are returning from the moon in 1933 when the action starts. And in “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall,” you can read about Dutch citizens traveling to the moon by balloon in the 1830s.
Although
fiction writers helped us imagine the first trips to the moon, nobody prepared
us for a five-decade lapse in
missions. Nobody in 1969 thought we’d finish out the Apollo series of moon
landings, and then stay away for over fifty years. If you could travel back in
time from 2019 to 1969 and tell that to the world, not a soul would believe
you.
The moon was
ours! Surely by 1979 we’d have a moon base, then by 1989 a moon colony, and by
1999 the moon would be our springboard for trips to asteroids and other
planets. The excited folks of 1969 would inform the time traveler that by 2019,
naturally, average families would take trips to the moon for vacations.
How odd that we’ve stuck to our planet and near orbit for close to forty-seven years (since Apollo 17). Historians may well wonder what took humanity so long to go back, given the advances in technology that have occurred since the early 1970s. Here are some possible reasons for the long gap:
The
Mercury/Gemini/Apollo series ingrained in the public mind that only governments
can finance moon missions, and only at colossal expense.
The
moon wasn’t that exciting, after all. Gray, dusty, airless, and lifeless, it
was a place only an astronomer could love.
The
war in Vietnam and the Watergate scandal shattered the public’s former confidence
in government’s ability to accomplish great tasks.
We’d
gone there to accomplish the late President Kennedy’s goal of landing a man on
the moon before the end of the decade, and to win the supposed ‘space race’
with the Soviet Union. With no further goal, schedule, or apparent rival, we’d
lost all impetus for further trips.
We’ll go back to the moon, of course, and with any luck, the next lunar landing will be witnessed by you and by—
Some days it seems as if the world is over-stocked with idiots: editors who reject your brilliant manuscripts or insist on unreasonable alterations; reviewers too nit-witted to appreciate your subtle prose; and there’s always the never-ending parade of dolts in the non-writing world. Luckily, you have the Internet, where you can loose your torrent of fury upon them all with wordy weapons of mass wrath.
I’m here to
suggest you not do that.
Every now and
then an author gets mad at someone and blasts them with blistering bombast, in
full view of the entire Interweb. Sometimes the author demonstrates
considerable literary prowess in these attacks, but at other times, the author
reveals only the limited, curse-studded vocabulary of an incensed sailor. I
won’t link to any specific examples. They’re out there.
Social media
makes this easy. You’re angry, so you lash out. Before you know it, you’ve
dashed off a response to the most recent slight, a retort designed to make the
perpetrator understand just how low on the human scale he or she rates. That’ll
teach ‘em. And it makes you feel really good.
For a moment. Then
you discover the quasi-Newtonian First Law of Internet Commotion: For every
action, there’s an opposite reaction, but it ain’t necessarily equal. Your two-party
disagreement has become public, and the public is livid about it—mostly livid
about you.
Suddenly you’re the evil-hearted antagonist in
this drama. People unknown to you have gathered to defend the original idiot,
and cast you in the role of the caped and mustached scoundrel roping young women
to railroad tracks.
They’re
denouncing you. They’re calling you names. Worse, they’re refusing to buy your
books, and encouraging others to boycott your bibliography, to catapult your
catalog.
Well, you’ll
show them. You’ll mock the mob;
you’ll criticize the crowd; you’ll harangue the horde; you’ll…
At this point,
a question occurs to you. You start to wonder if there had been some moment in
this escalating stimulus/response/counter-response avalanche when you held a
modicum of control over the situation. Was there a point before the
full-fledged flame war, before the ruination of your writing reputation, where
you could have prevented this outcome?
As it turns
out, yes there was. It occurred back when you first publicly spewed venom at
your initial, well-deserving target. If only you’d checked your fire then. If
only you’d written your raging rejoinder and not hit ‘Send.’ If only you’d listened to that angel on your
shoulder who’d quoted the Thumper Rule: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t
say nothin’ at all.”
Yeah, that
would have been a grand time to wedge in some sane contemplation between stimulus and instant response. You
could have risen above the ruckus, been the better being, grasped the greater
good, and suffered in silence knowing your suffering would cease.
Some of you are
thinking, “Oh yeah? I’ve read some pretty scorching online rants written by
famous authors, so it must be okay.”
The key word in
your thought is ‘famous.’ Famous authors can get away with stuff like that. If
they lose a few readers because of their boorish behavior, so what? They can
count on countless fans to come to their defense and to buy up even more of
their books.
But until
you’re famous, you can’t afford to lose readers. You won’t find a flock of fans
defending you. Instead, you’ll just be one more sad statistic in the growing
archive of Authors Behaving Badly.
When that moment of decision arrives, remember to dial down the flame. Remember to listen to the angel on your shoulder. Remember Thumper. And remember the advice of—
Most of my
fiction involves characters struggling with new technology. These days,
learning how to contend with technology is a relevant and fascinating problem
for all of us, and I enjoy exploring it.
I wondered if I was roaming the full realm of that topic, so I decided to map it. There are several ways to do this, but I chose to create one axis showing technology development stages, and another describing the spectrum of character responses to technology. Then I figured I’d plot my published stories on that map, and color-code the roles my characters played.
If I’d done my
job well, I thought, the map would show a good dispersal of scattered points.
That is, I’d have written stories covering all the areas, leaving no bare
spots.
1. Scientific
findings: The innovator has a basic scientific understanding of some
phenomenon.
2. Laboratory
feasibility: The innovator identified a technical solution to a specific
problem and created a laboratory model.
3. Operating
prototype: The innovator built a device intended for a particular
operational environment.
4. Operational
use or commercial introduction: The innovation is technologically
successful and economically feasible.
5. Widespread
adoption: The innovation proves superior to predecessor technologies and begins
to replace them.
6. Diffusion
to other areas: Users adopt the innovation for purposes other than those
originally intended.
7. Social
and economic impact: The innovation changed the behavior of society or has
somehow involved a substantial portion of the economy.
I then came up with typical responses to technology along a positive-to-negative spectrum: Over-Enthusiastic, Confident, Content, Cautious, Complacent, Dismissive, Fearful, and Malicious.
I grouped my
characters into four roles: Discoverer, Innovator, User, and Critic. Some of my
stories involve people discovering lost technologies or tech developed by
departed aliens, so I had to include that role. The other roles should be
obvious.
The resulting
map shows many of my published stories, indicated by two-letter abbreviations
of their titles. Where a single story occupied two areas, I connected them with
a line.
Details of the map
aren’t important, but you can tell a couple of things at a glance. First, I’m
nowhere close to covering the whole map. I’ve concentrated on the Operating
Prototype and Widespread Adoption stages more than the others.
Second, innovators
view technologies positively and critics negatively (duh), while users tend to
view technology negatively in the early stages and more positively in the later
ones.
As
far as map coverage goes, I wonder if the Operating Prototype and Widespread
Adoption stages provide more opportunity for dramatic stories than the other
stages.
Has anybody
studied technology in fiction using a similar method? I can imagine a map with
hundreds of colored points on it, representing an analysis of hundreds of
science fiction stories. It would be fun to see how my stories stack up against
those of other authors.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to write. As more of my stories get published, perhaps you’ll see future versions of this map, updated by—
In my original post, I said a writer’s voice included two aspects: the stuff she writes about, and the way she writes it. In other words, (1) the topics and (2) the style. My suggestions on choosing topics are still sound. But Ms. Wildfire introduced some new thoughts about style.
Her 11-item list of style principles is so good I won’t repeat it here and will merely urge you to read her post. (Here’s that link again.) I’m just going to emphasize the part I found most disruptive.
She suggests
reading Steven Pinker’s The Sense of Style, and I intend to do that. But
she goes on to advise writers to toss The Elements of Style in the
garbage.
Really, Jessica? Throw away my copies of Strunk and White? I couldn’t bear it.
I understand
why she says that. The Elements of Style dates from a century ago, and
contains numerous rules presented in a way that sounds rigid, overly
prescriptive, and archaic. I’m guessing those are the parts she ‘hate-reads’ to
her students as counter-examples.
But the overall
message of Strunk and White, the vital essence of the work, is timeless and I
hope Ms. Wildfire would agree. Elements is a plea for the writer to keep
the reader always in his thoughts. Yes, your job as a fiction writer is to
entertain, but to do that, you must first be understood.
As you look
over Ms. Wildfire’s 11 principles of style, you’ll see she doesn’t care much
for the old rules—the ones about grammar and showing rather than telling. But
what comes through in her principles is a message Strunk and White would agree
with. Write for the reader. Never confuse or bore the reader.
She advises writers to tell their stories in a voice readers can connect with. To do that, listen to the way real people talk. Notice the flow of words, the rhythms of their speech. If faced with a choice between clarity and correct grammar, opt for clarity. Delete the boring parts and cut to the chase.
Okay, Ms. Wildfire, I’ll follow most of your advice. But I’ll never throw away the Strunk & White I got back in 1976. I consult it occasionally and re-read it just a couple of months ago. Elements will remain on the bookshelves of—
Want to write a
best-seller? Together, you and I will figure out the secret.
As I’ve posted before, data scientists have developed software that can predict whether a novel will be a best-seller. These text-analyzing tools are about 84% accurate, but only work when they have text to analyze. That is, you have to write the book first, and then run it through the computer. Not super helpful.
Not available. Anywhere.
We can do better than that, at least as a mental exercise. W. Somerset Maugham is reputed to have said, “There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” Let’s figure out the rules Maugham said no one knows, but not just for novels—for best-selling novels.
I don’t know
about you, but I’m not a data scientist and don’t know a thing about creating
text-analysis software. I don’t have the time or spare cash to buy all the best-sellers
for the last few years and input all that text into a computer.
Still, we won’t
let minor details stop us. In fact, since we’re creating imaginary software,
we’re free from bothersome facts that constrain real data scientists. Our
best-seller writing rules needn’t involve things that computers are good at
counting. We can come up with any rules we want.
Let’s start
with a name for our imaginary software tool. Perhaps Best$ell 1.0. Not very
good, but we’ll use if for now and get our Marketing Department to work on a
better name.
Let’s imagine a
list of attributes that Best$ell 1.0 will use. We’ll use this list for starters:
Luck
Amount
of promotion of novel
Appeal
of book cover
Existing
fame of author
Appeal
of main characters
Difference
from other novels
Addresses
a current or emerging topic
Addresses
a controversial or taboo topic
Amount
of sex or violence
Quality of prose
You could come
up with different attributes, but that list should be okay for Version 1.0. Let’s
say Best$ell 1.0 can easily measure all of those attributes. Let’s also say a
greater amount or degree of any of those attributes gives a manuscript a better
chance of becoming a best-seller.
Looking back
over our list, I see one problem. Some attributes are beyond the author’s control.
The first one depends on chance. The publisher controls the second one, for the
most part. Attributes 3 through 5 depend on reader reaction. Attributes 6
through 8 depend on society in general.
I put the list
in rough order from least author control to most author control. The author has
some influence on all the attributes except number 1, but has greatest control
over the latter items in the list.
Moreover, not
all the attributes would be equally important. Best$ell 1.0 would know the
weights to assign to each attribute, of course, and it may well be the last
items in the list outweigh the first ones. That would give the author greater
influence.
Of course, that
last attribute might be fully under the author’s control, but it’s not a very
actionable attribute. How, exactly, do you write high-quality prose?
Well, it looks
like Best$ell 1.0 has a few bugs and isn’t ready for release. But it’s a start.
The next version will be much better, given the talent and expertise of our top-notch
team: you and—
Many people have written histories of Science Fiction, including Anthony Gramuglia, Robert J. Sawyer, and (in infographic form), the artist Ward Shelley. What follows is my version.
I split SF history into five ages. For each age, I’ll give the years covered, some characteristic aspects, how the age reacted against the previous age, and a list of representative authors. The timeframe for each age is approximate; within each, some authors wrote works hearkening back to the age before, and some presaged the age that followed. My lists of authors are short and therefore incomplete. I’m only discussing text works here; the history of SF in movies tended to lag behind that of written works. Here we go:
Age of Wonder
This covered the time before the year 1800. There were few works, and they tended to involve pseudo-science and took place in exotic settings. They used magic or unexplained methods to convey characters to those settings, and often the character was a chance traveler and passive observer. Representative authors included Lucian of Samosata, Johannes Kepler, Cyrano de Bergerac, Margaret Cavendish, and Voltaire.
Age of Science
This age
spanned from 1800 to 1920. With the advent of the Industrial Age and the
Scientific Method, authors incorporated scientists actively discovering or
inventing, and then exploring in their steam-driven machines. The settings were
exotic, but more realistically described. This age rejected the magic and
chance of the Age of Wonder, and highlighted the scientist deliberately
creating his invention. Representative authors included Mary Shelley, Edgar
Allan Poe, Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, and Edgar Rice Burroughs.
Age of Engineering
Covering the years
1920 to 1980, this age exploded the genre with a lot more authors and stories.
It was the age of aliens, robots, space opera, pulp fiction, atomic power, and
mad scientists. Aimed at a largely white male audience, the heroes were often
white male engineers who reasoned out the problem using science, rescued the
woman, and saved the universe. This age rejected the primitive naiveté of the
Age of Science, updating it with the latest rocketry inventions and
astronomical/nuclear discoveries. Authors included Robert A. Heinlein, Arthur
C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, and Larry Niven.
Age of Punk
This age ran
roughly from 1980 to 2010. It explored the consequences of computers and
artificial intelligence, often with dystopian results. It gave us numerous
alternate universes, epitomized by cyberpunk, steampunk, and many other punks. Female
writers proliferated. Heroes were less often white males, and antagonists had
backstories and motivations beyond pure evil. It reacted against the Age of
Engineering by including racial and feminist themes, and warning against the
hubris of over-engineering. Representative authors included Philip K. Dick, Ursula
K. Le Guin, Connie Willis, William Gibson, and K. W. Jeter.
Age of Humanity
Spanning from about 2010 to the present, this age turns inward more than any previous age. It’s about humanity in all its variants, and less about exotic settings. More than just women and blacks, we see LGBTQ authors delving into the future and consequences of sexual options. This is science fiction about biology and climate change. It includes mundane science fiction taking place in our solar system, without extraterrestrials or faster-than-light travel. Reacting against the negativity of the Age of Punk, it’s more a positive celebration of what it is to be human. Representative authors include Neal Stephenson, Melissa Scott, Robert J. Sawyer, Ted Chiang, and Charlie Jane Anders.
Age of…?
What’s next? I don’t know. Perhaps the next age of Science Fiction will be created by someone reading the blog posts of—
Admission: I’ve never watched even one episode of the ‘Game of Thrones’ TV show, nor read even one of the novels in the series by George R. R. Martin. Still, my lack of authority on that (or any) subject won’t stop me from weighing in.
As an author of short stories, I felt stunned to read about the amount of viewer backlash against the screenwriters of the show with regard to the last episode, and the entire last season. Over 1.6 million people have signed a petition challenging HBO to hire competent writers and re-write the final season.
What struck me
was the intensity of the fury and the resulting call to action. As far as I
know, it’s unprecedented. It seems to me most people could rattle off the names
of ten or more living novelists, but how many could name even one screenwriter?
Yet millions of viewers vented their ire against the GoT showrunners, whose
names figure prominently in the petition.
I wondered how
I’d feel if thousands of readers demanded that a more competent author rewrite
one or more of my stories.
Without getting
into any specifics about the GoT TV series or book series, (since I can’t), it
seems to me that two factors combined to channel viewer anger into a petition:
The
rise of a social media forum where millions of viewers and readers can discuss
all aspects of books and TV shows; and
The
fact that TV shows broadcast, and are viewed, at specific times.
The first point
provides a meeting place for ideas, where emotions can feed on each other. The
second point focuses the reactions within a small slice of time. Viewers all
watch the TV show simultaneously, not in the staggered way readers read novels.
Are we entering
a new era? Will such petitions become more common? Will the practice spread
beyond anger over TV shows to books?
Some say the opposite, that GoT represents the ending of widely-shared entertainment.
I doubt that.
Twitter and Facebook are a new form of water cooler, around which millions can
gather at once and add their opinions. I believe we will see future instances
like the GoT petition, where viewers concentrate their displeasure (or
admiration) on screenwriters.
As for whether
book readers will someday make similar demands of authors, I don’t know. To
answer my earlier question about how I’d feel if 1.6 million readers documented
their rage over one of my stories and demanded a re-write by a better author, I
can’t say I’d be happy about it.
Still, it would be nice to have that many readers in the first place. Perhaps one day you’ll see, sitting uncomfortably upon a throne of pens—
It’s Short
Story Month, also known as May. Why they didn’t pick February—the shortest
month—I’ll never know.
What is a short story? According to Wikipedia, it is a prose tale you can read in one sitting, one that evokes a single effect or mood. That ‘single effect’ idea can be difficult to understand. Edgar Allan Poe called it ‘unity of effect.”
Think of the effect as the emotional response induced
in the reader by the story. The intent of a short story is to produce a single
such effect, and every paragraph, sentence, and word of the story must support
that goal.
There’s
something ancient and primal about the short story form. It hearkens back to
stories our tribal ancestors told around the fire at night. Those storytellers
had to hold the attention of tired listeners as they fought fatigue, so had to
keep them focused and interested.
There’s
something new and trendy about the short story form. It’s well suited to our
fast-paced age of commuting, smart phones, and hectic schedules. Given our
brief snatches of time available for reading, it’s easier to enjoy and
appreciate a short story than to maintain focus on a novel read a piece at a
time.
I know what you’re
thinking: Thanks for all that background,
Poseidon’s Scribe, but how do I celebrate Short Story Month? Sadly, this
occasion hasn’t captured the public’s imagination yet. There are no relevant
songs to sing, or particular food items to prepare and eat. It’s not a
traditional gift-giving month. No short story parades appear on the schedule.
However, don’t
despair. I’ve come up with six ways you can celebrate:
Read. Well, this one’s obvious. You can celebrate by reading one or more short stories. You can re-read a past favorite or find a new one. I could crassly suggest you read one of mine, but I’ll resist the temptation.
Analyze. Select your favorite short story and re-read it, but this time, jot down what you like about it, your favorite parts, and maybe some notes about the overall structure and plot. You’ll likely learn new things and come away with a deeper appreciation for the story.
Write. Even if you haven’t written a story since your school days, you might find it fun to write your own short story. You have a story to tell, and short stories are, by definition, short. You can do this.
Submit. As long as you took the time to write one, you might as well submit it for publication. You can use The Submission Grinder to search for potential markets. Pick one, follow its submission guidelines, and submit your story.
Promote. We’re in the age of social media, so tell the whole world how you’re celebrating this month. Whether you love a short story by another author, or had your own short story published, tell everyone about it on Facebook, or on Twitter using @shortstorymonth, or on some other platform.
Party! Invite some like-minded friends over to your place. Decorate using themes from your favorite short story, and serve appropriate food based on that story. The highlight of the party will be when someone does a dramatic reading (or acting) of the story.
And you thought another Short Story Month would pass you by without notice. Not so. Now you know six ways to celebrate it. Lucky for you, this is just the sort of helpful service provided free by—
