We’d Like to Offer You a Contract…

You’ve sent your short story around to different markets, gotten rejections, but finally one publisher accepts your story.  Hooray!  Then an e-mail arrives with a long, legal document for you to sign.  It’s your first writing contract.  It looks so complicated, and all you want to do is see your story published, so you think about signing that contract without really reading it.

Don’t do that.

At its most basic level, a contract is a written agreement between two willing parties.  Each has something to offer, something the other party wants, so the contract should be for mutual benefit.  The writer has his story and wants both money and a published story.  The publisher is able to ensure books get printed and offered to the public and is willing to pay writers for good stories.  Pretty simple, right?  What could go wrong?

Writing contracts (for short stories, with which I have experience), have a fairly standard structure.  Here are the basic parts, though contracts vary by publisher:

  • Definitions of Author, Publisher, and Work
  • Permissions Author grants the Publisher
  • Rights being purchased by Publisher and the time period (term) of the rights (when they revert back to the Author, both in case the book isn’t published and if it is)
  • Payments and Royalties paid by Publisher to Author, including Author copies of published book.  In the case of royalties, some contracts also state how the Publisher will provide periodic royalty statements.
  • Termination of Agreement – some contracts stipulate how the agreement will be or could be terminated
  • Author Warranties (author owns Work, no other conflicting contracts, Work is original, Work doesn’t defame others, etc.)
  • Author Indemnities – (Author holds Publisher blameless in lawsuits if Author has misrepresented anything in contract)
  • No competing publication (Author agrees not to publish Work elsewhere first)
  • Changes in Text or Title – Publisher agrees not change the work without Author permission (approval of galleys), but usually minor copy-editing changes are allowed.
  • Venue – links the contract to the laws of a specific country or state
  • Signatures

For several reasons, you might be tempted to sign your first writing contract without reading it:

1.  All those unfamiliar legal words are intimidating.

2.  I’m anxious to get published.

3.  It’s probably one of their standard contracts, anyway.  A lot of writers must have signed a contract just like this.

4.  Most publishers are above-board and honest, aren’t they?

If if all are those are true, read the contract anyway.  But suppose you do read it and there are parts you don’t understand.  Communicate with the publisher and ask him or her what those clauses mean.  If you’re still confused, you can hire an intellectual property lawyer, but that shouldn’t be necessary for most short story contracts.  Don’t sign the contract until you understand the terms and agree to them.

It’s a truism that contracts favor the party that writes them.  You can attest to that, I’m sure, from other types of contracts you’ve seen which always spell out in detail what you’re supposed to do and what bad things will happen if you don’t, but gloss over the expectations and penalties for the other party.

Remember–a contract is an agreement between two willing parties who each give something and get something.  So you can negotiate terms.  If there’s something you don’t like in the contract or something missing, negotiate to make it right.  Walking away from a bad deal is always an option–right up until you sign it.

Feel free to let me know what your experience with short story contracts has been.  But hereinafter in consideration of the mutual covenants herein contained, the party of the first part shall be referred to as–

                                                                      Poseidon’s Scribe

May 13, 2012Permalink

Book Review – Unbroken

Every once in a while, I’m reminded how little I have to complain about.  Go ahead, do as I did and read Unbroken, a World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand and see if you can whine about something going wrong in your life.

I listened to the Random House Audio version © 2010, read by Edward Herrmann.

This book is a biography focusing on the life of Louis Zamperini.  The man is so fascinating that his life would not require a skilled biographer to result in a great book. But Hillenbrand is a skilled biographer.  Zamperini was quite a scamp in his youth, then channeled his energy into running.  He ran well enough to compete in the 1936 Olympics.  When World War II broke out, he joined the Army Air Corps and became a bombardier in a B-24 Liberator aircraft.  When the plane got shot down, Zamperini and two others endured weeks in a tiny, leaking raft with insufficient supplies.  Though one man died, Zamperini and the other aviator survived 47 days until they were finally picked up…by the Japanese.  Sent to various prisoner of war camps, Zamperini barely survived the torture and degradation until the end of the war.  Following his release, he experienced a slow collapse of his life until becoming a born-again Christian.  Hillenbrand’s choice of the word ‘unbroken’ for her title refers not only to Zamperini’s indomitable will to survive, but also to some of his high school and college track records which remained unbroken for years.

Hillenbrand must have done considerable research for this book.  I liked how she would occasionally deviate from a strict chronological treatment to explain some point that made Zamperini’s life easier to understand.  She sidetracked in this way to explain B-24 bombers, American life rafts from that period, the experiences of other WW II POWs, and several other things.  Even with these asides, she never strayed too long from her main focus.  She didn’t shy away from some of the rougher language the men used or some of the hideous tortures the prisoners endured.  This book is not for the faint of heart.  Although it must have been tempting, while writing such a book, to try to psychologically analyze the subject, Hillenbrand resisted that for the most part, only lightly touching on some of his more obvious personality traits to explain behavior.  Edward Herrmann did a fine job with the narration of the book.

I have few negative comments, since the book really blew me away.  I think, at times, Hillenbrand “fell in love” with her subject too much.  It seems to me she strayed from a more objective approach.  Since she most likely interviewed Zamperini himself while researching, it’s hard to know who is responsible for exaggerating one of the more unbelievable scenes.  Did an exhausted and malnourished man really wrestle and kill sharks leaping into the raft?  I have not read Zamperini’s own memoir, Devil at My Heels, and it would be interesting to compare the two accounts.

I’m giving Unbroken a rating of 4 seahorses using my trademarked book review grading system.  It is an outstanding biography and I strongly recommend you read it.  I understand someone’s making a movie from the book and that could be well worth watching.  Compared to Louis Zamperini’s life experiences, my own life has been a breeze, for which I’m grateful.  Sitting here in a very uncomplaining and non-whiny mood, I’m–

                                                                        Poseidon’s Scribe

May 10, 2012Permalink

Of Adverbs, Approvingly

Was ever a part of speech more maligned than adverbs?  Go ahead–search the Web for a kind treatment of them.  More often you’ll find admonitions to hunt them down and kill them where they stand.  Is that nice?  What have adverbs ever done to you?

Adverbs are those words most often ending in ‘ly,’ that modify verbs and adjectives.  They often answer a ‘how?’ or ‘to what extent?’ question with respect to their attached verb or adjective.  How did he run?  Rapidly.  How did she speak?  Quietly.  To what extent was the room decorated?  An outrageously decorated room.

What’s so wrong about modifying verbs and adjectives?  Why do most writing books and websites advise writers to banish adverbs?  First, remember the basic structure of an English sentence–subject, verb, and object.  The verb is where the action is, the real power and punch of any sentence.  Over time, English has become rich in verbs, overflowing with them (by one count over 9000).  In odd cases when the right verb doesn’t exist, we sometimes take a noun and verbize it.

With all these verbs to choose from, why not select the one with the precise intended meaning and use that?  If a writer does that, her verb won’t require modifying by any adverb at all.  Sometimes writers get lazy, though, and choose weak verbs, then try strengthening them with adverbs.  Sometimes an even lazier writer adds an adverb that, well, adds nothing.  Tom crept slowly.  Um, how else would he creep?

Another knock against adverbs ties in with the ‘show, don’t tell,’ advice.  Adverbs tell us about the verb, but instead the writer could bring the sentence alive with a short clause showing us ‘how’ or ‘to what extent.’  Tom crept with snail-speed so he wouldn’t set off the motion detector. 

Against these damning criticisms, how can I dare to defend the adverb?  First, an occasional well-chosen adverb can help a sentence.  ‘Slowly’ is an example of one I find useful, but not for modifying verbs that already imply slowness.

Second, I’m mindful that adverbs haven’t always been denigrated. I’m not sure when they fell out of fashion, but many nineteenth century authors peppered their works with adverbs.  Perhaps the ban on adverbs is just a fad.  They might come back in style.  Some brave author could craft a well-written novel chock full of them and see it become a bestseller.  Others would then copy that author’s technique, and everyone will wonder how we got along without adverbs.

You could be that trail-blazing author, but if I were you I’d leave that to the literary types.  In the meantime, if you want your works to sell in today’s markets, I advocate using adverbs in a sparing manner, no more than one per page.  When you edit, search for those ‘ly’ words.  When you find one, consider choosing a stronger, more precise verb.  If there is none, consider adding a short clause or new sentence expressing your point in a vivid manner with nouns and verbs alone.

As always, feel free to comment.  Until you do I’ll sit here being, most patiently and expectantly,

                                                                       Poseidon’s Scribe

May 6, 2012Permalink

Book Review – Counting Heads

As both of my many readers know by now, I listen to books on tape more often than I read them these days.  The latest was Counting Heads by David Marusek.  I listened to the Recorded Books version narrated by Kevin R. Free.  I enjoy good science fiction, and the blurb about the book sounded impressive.  Mr. Marusek has apparently written short stories and I believe this is his first novel, but I have not read anything else by this author.

In a future North America where people can live hundreds of years, and nanotechnology and artificial intelligence have made life (mostly) more enjoyable, artist Sam Harger marries billionaire and soon-to-be-politician Eleanor Starke.  Things go awry when Sam is falsely pegged as a terrorist and the Department of Homeland Security (a future and scarier version of it) alters his body so he can no longer be rejuvenated and he now emits a powerful stench beyond cleansing.  Then there’s a plane crash in which the aircraft seat mechanisms protect his daughter Ellen by severing her head from her body.  Medical science has advanced enough to allow re-growing a body from just the head.  But others are after Ellen’s head, perhaps the same evil folks who caused the plane crash and the mistaken terrorist accusation.

I like the world Marusek has created for this novel.  Most people have robotic “mentars” to aid them in drudgery tasks.  Many people are, in fact, clones, and Marusek goes into some detail describing the various types.  Nuclear families have given way to “charter families” functioning by contract and subject to change.  However, terrorists have created nanotechnology viruses, from which cities protect themselves with shield domes.  Mechanical “slugs” crawl about testing people’s identities, and mechanical bees and wasps swarm around observing things for government or media purposes.  I thought Kevin Free did a fine job in reading the novel.

However, for me, that sums up the book’s positive aspects.  Perhaps as a listener rather than a reader I may have missed something, but it wasn’t clear to me what the central conflict of the novel was.  If Sam Harger was supposed to be the protagonist, then the novel spends too little time following the events of his life, and strays into following other characters.  Sam did not seem to me to be actively involved in resolving the central mystery of the book.  As a result, I found it hard to care about him.  The other point-of-view characters are all more focused on their own lives and I found it hard to care about them or even connect them to the plot at all.  The whole book therefore seems a confusing muddle to me.  Is there really a central conflict in this novel?  If so, what is it, and why do the characters not pursue its resolution with any apparent dedication?

After thinking about this for a time, and after reviewing my definitions for my five seahorse rating system, I have to give this book my lowest rating of one seahorse.  If you’re intrigued by science fiction and want to experience one writer’s thoughts on clones, nanotech, advanced medical science, and robotic animals, you might consider reading Counting Heads, but I recommend looking elsewhere.   However, it’s possible I missed its greatness somewhere; if you’re the person to set me right, please leave a comment for–

Poseidon’s Scribe

 

April 30, 2012Permalink

Writing the Kübler-Ross Way

When writing fiction, you want your characters to seem authentic to readers, to react in believable ways to the events that happen to them.  Such reactions need not match how the reader would react in the same circumstances, necessarily, but they should be in accordance with the character’s personality, not clash with it.  To achieve that authenticity, you need to be a detailed observer of human nature.  In addition to that, you can discover what psychiatrists have determined.

Psychiatrist Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross developed her ‘Five Stages of Grief’ model and described it in her book On Death and Dying.  The five stages are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance and are sometimes abbreviated as DABDA.

There are those who dispute Kübler-Ross’ theory and some who have competing notions.  You are free to choose the theory you like best.  For our purposes in this blog post, let’s stick with DABDA.  Dr. Kübler-Ross recognized these five separate reactions may apply to more than just human reaction to the death of a loved one.  They may apply in some manner to the responses to any unexpected unfortunate event with emotional content, any shocking or surprising negative circumstance experienced by a character.

A character can pass through phases in different order, or skip one or more phases entirely.  That will be determined in part by the event being reacted to, and the personality of the character.  Bear in mind a phase like denial can be expressed quickly by the character saying, “I don’t believe it,” or “No way.”  These don’t have to be experiences dragged out over several paragraphs.

Also note that a character need not ever reach acceptance.  He or she can get stuck at any of the other stages.  Since that’s not a good sign of emotional health, it can make for interesting and dramatic fiction.  Imagine a person getting stuck at the anger stage, for example.  How would that person act?  What would she be thinking of?  How does she go through life while dominated by feelings of rage?  Similarly, the notion of becoming fixed at the denial, bargaining, or depression stages comes with major consequences for such characters.

Simply knowing one theory of how people normally react to surprising or shocking events can be a help as you strive to create believable and authentic characters.  Do you disagree, or have you used Kubler-Ross’ theory in your own writing?  Leave a comment and let me know.  Though you might not believe it, or it might tick you off, or you’d do anything if it weren’t so, or it makes you feel miserable, or you’ve finally come to understand and consent to the truth of it, I am–

                                                                  Poseidon’s Scribe

 

April 30, 2012Permalink

Use Mind Maps to Solve Your Writing Problems

The concept of mind mapping has come up in my blog entries before, as a suggested tool to help writers.  I’ve said you can use mind maps for outlining, to improve your creativity, and to solve pesky plotting problems.  But what exactly is a mind map, and how does it work?

A mind map is a way of organizing and illustrating thoughts about a topic.  I learned about the technique from reading Use Both Sides of Your Brain, by Tony Buzan.  It contrasts quite a bit from other note-taking methods like the I.A.1.(a)(1)(i) outlining method you learned in school.  I’ve found it to be more intuitive, less messy, and easier to remember than other methods.  I use my own variant of mind mapping any time I need to organize thoughts:  note-taking during meetings at work, planning my day, planning a vacation.  And, oh yeah, I use mind-mapping to aid in my writing.

How do you construct a mind map?  I’ll give only a quick description here; I recommend you read Buzan’s book, or at a minimum read descriptions of the technique elsewhere online.

  • Start in the center with an image of the topic.
  • Write key words around the central image using upper case letters.
  • Underline each key word.
  • Use lines to link the underlined key words to your central image and to each other to illustrate connections.
  • Use images and symbols throughout, in addition to key words.  (Don’t worry if you think you can’t draw decent pictures; no one but you will see your mind map.)
  • Use multiple colors to separate thoughts, and to link similar thoughts.
  • Continue branching out from the center, expanding the thoughts and linking related ideas.

The best way to explain what that all means is to show you a mind map.  I’ve said you can use mind maps to solve writing problems, so let’s see a hypothetical example.  Let’s say you’re Jules Verne and you’re working on a book with a working title of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.  You’re outlining the major events of the book and you want to finish with an appropriate, memorable ending, one with a big impact and one that fits the novel’s major themes.  You could make a list of possible endings, then go back and list pros and cons for each option, then choose the best one.  Or you could construct a mind map.

(Set aside for the moment, that [1] mind-mapping hadn’t been invented at the time, and [2] Verne did not write in English.)

In a more complete mind-map, Verne would have continued branching from each option, with pros and cons.  I’ve violated a few mind map rules in this example, but my overall point is for you to see how you could use the technique to aid your writing.

Stuck for an idea what to write about?  Write down key words that resonate with you, even if apparently unrelated.  Go fast and fill up a page with words and pictures.  Now pause and look for natural associations.  Re-do the mind map if necessary to keep it clean and neat.  Now, in a different color, try connecting some unrelated ideas.  Do any of these clashing notions suggest a possible story?

Not sure how to plot your story?  Mind-map the story’s scenes, with branches describing why they occur and how the characters change or learn things from each event.  That should make it apparent if you have unnecessary scenes, scenes in the wrong order, or if you’re missing some scenes you need.

Possible uses for mind-mapping are limited only by your imagination.  In other words, there are no limits.  Can you see yourself using this technique?  Have you ever done so?  Share your ideas about mind-mapping by leaving a comment.  This blog post has been brought to you by both the left and right sides of the brain of–

                                                                        Poseidon’s Scribe

 

 

April 15, 2012Permalink

What He Said About ‘Said’

“Today’s blog post is about the word ‘said,’” said Poseidon’s Scribe.

“What is there to say about ‘said?’” asked Blog Reader, who hoped to write fiction someday.

“First, ‘said’ is the most common type of ‘dialogue tag’ used in fiction to indicate who’s speaking,” said the Scribe.  “However, many budding authors worry about overusing that word, so they substitute other words.”

“I don’t believe that,” asserted the Reader.

“It’s true, but the fact is, ‘said’ is pretty much invisible.  You can’t overuse it,” said the Scribe.  “People pass right over it as they read.”

“Well, I declare,” declared the Reader.

“Still, there is something even worse than that,” said the Scribe.

“What’s that?” the Reader asked, questioningly.

“Modifying ‘said’ with an adverb.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” the Reader said unthinkingly.

“Use of adverbs in that way is termed a ‘Tom Swifty,’ from the Tom Swift series of books about a young inventor.  The authors of those books occasionally sought to modify ‘said’ with adverbs.  Not only are they examples of bad writing, but Tom Swifties have given rise to an entire brand of humor.  There are examples here and here and here.”

“Okay, please stop listing links,” the Blog Reader said haltingly.

“Look, there are at least four things to remember about writing dialogue,” said the Scribe, “and the first is to be very clear about who’s talking.  Don’t leave your readers wondering about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you go on for several lines of dialogue without tags–“

“Like we’re doing now, you mean?”

“–the reader can lose track of who’s speaking.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do.  Especially when there’s more than two characters or when they have similar styles of speech.”

“Are there any times you would use several lines of untagged dialogue?”

“Oh, yes.  That technique can heighten the drama of a scene, build it up to a climax.  As each line of dialogue becomes shorter and shorter, your readers will naturally sense the tension building.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Really certain?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Sure?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, I think I understand that,” said the Blog Reader.  “You said there are four key points about dialogue.  What’s the next one?”

“Keep it interesting,” said Poseidon’s Scribe.  “Humans are social animals and love to talk.  Your readers want to hear your characters talking, and they have a preference for dialogue over narration.  But they don’t want to be bored, so keep dialogue interesting.”

“And the third key point?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said the Scribe.  “It’s related to the second point.  Use dialogue for dramatic purposes, to show characters at their moments of strong emotion as they grapple with the problem that represents the story’s conflict.  Minimize the use of dialogue just for providing information.  That’s called info-dumping.”

“Which is what you’re doing now,” said the Reader.

“True, but we’re having a real discussion, not a fictional one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Poseidon’s Scribe held up his right index finger.  “There’s one last point I want to make about the use of ‘said’ in dialogue.  If you’re still worried about repeating ‘said’ and you doubt my point earlier about readers skipping over it, then substitute some type of action, or movement, or description.”

“What do you mean?”  The Reader’s brows furrowed.

“Instead of using ‘said,’ have your character do something while speaking.”  The Scribe swept his hand to indicate motion.  “After all, people really do things while talking.  They don’t just stand there.”

The Reader nodded.  “I see what you mean.  But what do I do if I have a question about this later?”

“Just click on ‘leave a comment’ below this blog entry.  See it down there?”

“Yeah, there it is.  Well, thanks for everything!”  The Blog Reader smiled.

“Don’t mention it,” said–

                                                             Poseidon’s Scribe

April 8, 2012Permalink

Mixed Genres and the Platypus

Authors are having a lot of fun playing among the traditional genres these days.  In an era when Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, and the movies “Ninjas vs. Vampires” and “Cowboys and Aliens” are popular, we might well question whether the term ‘genre’ has any meaning any more.

What is (or was) a genre?  It’s “a category of artistic works based on form, style, or subject matter, into which artistic works of all kinds can be divided.”  In its entry on genre fiction, Wikipedia provides the following list:  Action-adventure, Crime, Detective, Fantasy, Horror, Inspirational, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction, and Western.  People can dispute that listing but let’s accept it for the time being.

Having a set of well-established genres into which any fiction book fits comfortably within a group is a nice arrangement for bookstores.  Booksellers know just where to shelve any new book that arrives.  Moreover, readers know where to look for their favorite types of stories.  That was the situation up until roughly when the millennium turned over.  In fact, experts used to discourage new authors from writing mixed genre novels because “bookstores won’t know where to shelve your book, and such books have limited appeal to readers.”

Well, forget all that!  Somewhere around the time people stopped going to brick-and-mortar bookstores to buy books, many readers started getting bored with the traditional genres.  They caught up with the authors, who had long been bored with them and ached to stir things up.  Now it’s the bookstores playing catch-up.

Consider the problem for a bookstore.  Imagine a line connecting two genres, say Romance and Horror.  A given book could be at the midpoint of that line, half Romance and half Horror, or it could be at any point along that line.  Now add all the other genres and connect each.  Quite a network!  Moreover, we only considered mixing genres two at a time, but you could combine three or more.  Given all that, how are you going to arrange the shelves in your bookstore?

But what if your bookstore is online and has a virtually unlimited number and arrangement of shelves?  What if your reader customers are demanding nontraditional stories?  What if those customers can type any combination of terms in the search feature of your website to see what you’re offering?  Suddenly it’s not necessary for a budding author to try to force-fit a story into one and only one of the established genres.

The situation is one of definition, like the duck-billed platypus, which once created a problem for zoologists.  Is it a bird or a mammal? It must certainly be one or the other.  It turns out the problem does not lie with the platypus, but with our categories, our definitions.  Similarly, genres are categories with fuzzy–even overlapping–boundaries.  Some stories fit snugly near the center of a genre’s definition.  Others lie out near the edge, still within the boundary, but also within the boundary of another genre.

So I advise you to write the story you want to write, without regard to genres.  It’s a new age, an era without rigid categories, sans genres.  Readers out there seem ready for some experimentation, some departures from tradition.  When you hit that magic combination that amazes the world and propels you to fame and fortune, write down how grateful you are, enclose a fat check, and mail it to–

                                                                      Poseidon’s Scribe

 

April 1, 2012Permalink

Book Review — Ship of the Line

It’s clear to me now:  reading C. S. Forester’s series of Horatio Hornblower novels in the wrong order is not the way to go.  After reading Mr. Midshipman Hornblower (1st in chronological order, 6th one written in the series) some time ago, I just finished Ship of the Line (8th chronological, 2nd one written).

I listened to the Books on Tape version of the book, narrated by Geoffrey Howard.  This novel features Horatio as captain of the 74-gun HMS Sutherland.  He is shown as being more in love with Lady Barbara Wellesley, wife of Rear Admiral Leighton, than his own wife Maria.  He struggles to find enough sailors to man his crew and is forced to settle for untrained ruffians.  Once his ship is fully manned, he conducts a series of attacks to harass the French forces on coast of Spain.  He chaffs under the incompetent leadership of his squadron commander, Admiral Leighton.

If you know little about the British Navy of the early 1800s before reading the book, you’ll feel like an expert afterward.  Forester gives just the right amount of detail for a reader to picture the scene without getting bored.  There is also so much to admire in Hornblower himself.  His strengths (bravery, audacity, cleverness) make him the perfect naval hero, while his weaknesses (jealousy, tone-deafness, and obsessive self-criticism) don’t detract from his professional life.  If, like me, you skip from Hornblower as a midshipman to Hornblower as captain, you’ll marvel at his maturity and the traits he’s taken on.  Geoffrey Howard did a fine job with the book’s narration.

I wish I’d read these books while I served in the U.S. Navy.  Actually I couldn’t have, for I served during Hornblower’s time period, long before Forester even wrote the books.  Seriously, all Navy personnel can learn much from Hornblower’s decision-making methods, his boldness, his tactfulness, and his leadership style.

There were things I didn’t like, however.  Hornblower’s jealousy, his secret love of Lady Barbara, and his disdain for his own wife were off-putting.  Hard to maintain sympathy for a protagonist like that.  I was dissatisfied by the book’s ending.  Without spoiling it for you, let me say this was more like a long chapter in a huge book than an integrated novel in its own right.  The ending of a book ought to resolve the main conflict in some way.  This book’s ending seemed to resolve nothing.  But it did set things up for the next novel.

Using my world-famous seahorse rating system, I give Ship of the Line four seahorses.  I enjoyed it a lot, and you will too.  For these nautical stories, you should just take my word for it because, after all, I’m–

                                                                           Poseidon’s Scribe

 

March 31, 2012Permalink

Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurrah for Steampunk!

You may have heard the term ‘steampunk,’ a word I’ve used in several blog posts. Perhaps you’re wondering what it means.  The word sounds vaguely repulsive with that ‘punk’ part, as if it’s something distasteful you’d want no part of.

At first the term referred only to a genre of literature where stories take place in a time or setting where the primary technology is steam power.  The word arose when science fiction author K.W. Jeter sought a term to apply to novels then being written which seemed to have branched out from science fiction into their own subgenre.  In a letter printed in the science fiction magazine “Locus” in April 1987, he proposed the term ‘steampunk’ taking a cue from another genre called ‘cyberpunk.’

Since cyberpunk is dark and gritty, very dystopian in outlook, some assumed steampunk should be the same way.  Many consider a story isn’t steampunk unless it not only takes place in a steam-powered society, but also uses the seamy side of that society to make a corresponding point about some weakness in our own.  That would be the ‘punk’ part.

However, an interesting thing happened after that airship left the station.  It seemed these authors had tapped into something deeper and much stronger.  Steampunk became a style, a philosophy, a way of life.  Readers loved the steam, not the punk.  It took off in popularity, capturing people’s imagination in interesting ways.  Search on the web for steampunk images and you’ll see what I mean.  People enjoy dressing in steampunk style and inventing steampunk gadgets.  (Pictures are from photobucket.com)

Consider the major fictional genres:  Action-adventure, Crime, Detective, Fantasy, Horror, Inspirational, Mystery, Romance, Science fiction, and Western.  Of these, only Western and Fantasy come complete with ready-made ‘worlds,’ and unique styles of dress.  In all the others, the author must describe her world in some detail.  With steampunk (a subgenre of science fiction), and with Western and Fantasy, all of that comes built in.

Why did steampunk become so popular?  Here are some possible reasons:

  • We can still relate to the time period.  It wasn’t so long ago.
  • It celebrates the last time in history when people held a purely positive outlook on technology.  It was a time of unalloyed optimism about science; everyone knew science would make life better.  It was a time before the Titanic, before World War I, and well before nuclear weapons.  Technology had no dark side.
  • The technology is elegant, appealing to the eye.  It has a delicate craftsmanship to it, and delightful metallic curves.  Aesthetic beauty is a recognized part of it, an aspect of its very purpose.
  • Steampunk technology is understandable by the common man, and tangible to the senses.  You can see the exposed gears, the pistons.  You can watch the motion and hear the steam hissing.  It isn’t esoteric like today, beyond explanation, hidden away inside black boxes.
  • Steampunk appeals to both women and men.  I don’t know exactly why, but each gender finds aspects of steampunk to enjoy.  The clothes may have something to do with that; perhaps our casual-dress age looks back with fondness on all that Victorian formality.  Part of it may be social; those were the times when women first began to realize the exciting potential for more equal rights; the early glimmerings of the social upheavals we’re still adjusting to today.
  • To carry that last idea further, perhaps steampunk appeals to us because social roles were so rigid then.  As we struggle today to understand the new chaos of gender relationships, steampunk harkens to a time when those roles were fixed and well-understood.  Perhaps we feel superior to the people of those times, but just maybe something inside us longs to know, with their certainty, where we belong.

In the ‘Stories’ part of this website, you’ll see I’ve written a few steampunk short stories myself.  (I couldn’t resist the personal plug there.)  If you’re still not certain whether you’d like steampunk, read some steampunk stories, watch some steampunk movies, make some brass goggles and try them on.  You might find you like the whole milieu enough to go to a steampunk convention.  Pretty soon you might be giving three cheers for steampunk, along with–

                                                                             Poseidon’s Scribe

March 25, 2012Permalink