So I just turned the manuscript for Scylla and Charybdis back over to my editor (I still get a giddy little thrill saying that, call me a dork) for her review. I've been swimming in tweaks, changes, additions, deletions and hoping that I've managed to hit all the notes for a little over a month, and now it's time to stop and breathe.
What will I do until the next round? On my next book to submit / query, Unnatural Causes, I am partway through transcribing my paper edit, but honestly, I've been editing so much that I need to step away for a bit. So ... time to give the new novel, Surgeburnt, some love. It's a huge change from Scylla and Charybdis: a chaotic, magic-infused Earth as told through the first-person eyes of a snarky and pessimistic narrator. And the trick with Surgeburnt is that I'm actually telling two stories at once: the "now-time" sequence of events, and a dramatized backstory of how it got to that point. It's a fine balance, filling in enough detail to make sense of the now-story, while still leaving questions to play out in the then-story: how did this happen? Why? What's missing?
So my current plan is to focus on Surgeburnt through the end of the month (gee, maybe I'll come up with a better title in that time, too). After that, I'd like to break up my attention and do some shorter pieces - poetry and flash. The ideal would be one a day, but with my work schedule, that may not be feasible. Anyone have an idea for prompts or a scheme I might follow? It would be fun to have an ongoing flow of inspiration.
Then ... back to Unnatural Causes. I'm planning on another pass before I look for beta readers; guessing that won't be until early 2017. And, of course, when I hear on Scylla and Charybdis, that goes to the top of the pile.
That's the plan, anyhow. And we all know what happens to plans ...
About Me
- Lindsey Duncan
- I'm a professional harp performer, chef / pastry chef, and speculative fiction writer from Cincinnati, Ohio. My contemporary fantasy novel Flow is available from Double Dragon Publishing, and my science fiction novel Scylla and Charybdis is now out from Grimbold Books. I've also sold a number of short stories and a few pieces of speculative poetry. I write predominantly fantasy, usually epic and/or humorous, with some soft science fiction. I play the traditional lever harp with a specialty in Celtic music - but I also perform modern and Renaissance tunes. And yes, you read that right - I have a diploma in Baking and Pastry and an Associates in Culinary Arts and am currently working in the catering field at Kate's Catering and Personal Chef Services (Dayton, KY). I am a CPC (Certified Pastry Culinarian) and CSW (Certified Specialist of Wine).
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Goodreads Review: Soulless by Gail Carriger
Soulless by Gail CarrigerMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
In a Victorian England which hosts a not-so-secret society of vampires and werewolves, Alexia has the opposite problem: as the supernatural is an excess of soul, she is the opposite, preternatural, able to cancel out their abilities at a touch. This ability, and her nosy nature, sets her on collision course with a chilling plot.
I had mixed feelings about this book. There were places where it absolutely delighted me and nearly made me laugh out loud (which is a very high bar, for me); there were other places where I rolled my eyes; and a few that just didn't connect with me one way or the other. Of course, parody and humor are delicate things, and the balance of elements just didn't sit right with me - it was hard for me to tell in places whether something was intended to be hyperbole-for-humor or whether it was intended to be serious. Other readers' mileage may certainly vary!
Trying to discern this tone made my entrance into the book a bit tricky. I had trouble identifying with Alexia because she came off too casual about a dramatic turn of events. Once I got used to the tone, I began to enjoy it (though it does make use of some mid-scene POV shift, which has never been my favorite thing). The humor throughout is an absolute highlight, whether from the events themselves or the way Alexia thinks about them. Her family is a perfectly delightful caricature and yet entirely appropriate.
I never quite felt like Alexia led or motivated the events of the plot, however, so much as her general poking-about attracted the attention of antagonists already in motion. She acts and she gets results, but those results seem to be unintended (at least by her) and connected to larger events already in motion. She disturbs the "villains" of the story almost by accident.
The romance subplot is one of the primary places where the tone tripped me up. There is a sequence where my suspension of disbelief went wandering off into fields of heather because of the behavior of the male lead in very dire circumstances. Even if influenced by a werewolf nature - really?!
That said, I was very ready to write that romance off as a traditional love-hate cliche, all too well-worn, but the details of it are actually delightful and do a great job of incorporating supernatural culture, too.
Overall, I enjoyed this book enough that I would read the second, but would eschew a third if fell pray to some of the same pitfalls.
View all my reviews
Wednesday, September 07, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
Except for the orphaned farmboy of fantasy cliche, every character has family. (Even the orphaned farmboy has family, they're just deceased / missing / secretly evil. Sometimes all of the above, improbably.) The rootless character is a popular one in fantasy - even those who have living family and relatives may not speak or see them in the story's timeline. Even in these cases, though, the family - real or adopted - leaves a mark on the character, influencing their background and personality.
Other tales either involve the family on the fringes of the plot or sometimes, right in the center of it. To be honest, this is usually the kind of book I prefer. I'm fascinated by the interplay of family ties, loyalty to blood relatives versus loyalty to found family, the lengths people will go to protect a family member ... and the clashes of personality. After all, as the saying goes, you can't pick your family, so what do you do when a family member is someone you wouldn't choose to have tea with?
Or worse, a criminal, murderer, antagonist? This in particular is something I've always been intrigued with, from the very start: my first two novel attempts featured characters who were closely related to the main villain. I'm still playing with the idea. To me, it's less interesting as a shock reveal than as something learned earlier in the plot, a dilemma to wrestle with.
As an only child, I have always been an outside observer to the interplay of siblings. My cousins all live(d) a considerable distance away, so I wasn't regularly exposed to that relationship, either. Perhaps that's the reason I so enjoy writing about siblings ... and no one's told me that I've gotten them terribly wrong (yet), so I must have absorbed something from watching everyone else's.
Of course, having been homeschooled gave me a slightly different perspective on siblings, too. I think there's a tendency when you're young to make friends with your closest age peer and then write off their brothers and sisters as annoying pests. I remember very distinctly suddenly learning that my friend's siblings were actually a lot of fun, and that stayed with me.
What about characters who are already married or who have children? Seems the married characters typically only show up when it's unhappy or troubled, or in sequels where the romance was played out in a previous volume. And unless the child is a catalyst to the plot - abducted, parent is trying to make a better life for them and that's the primary storyline, etc - you don't often see them, either. At least, not in the books I've read, though of course, I can think of exceptions.
... and there should be more of them. Obviously, the absence of such characters is partly due to the fact that it's hard to "work around" them in a plot: the related character is tied down, constricted, unlikely to be able to make too many moves without considering their spouse / child. But isn't that part of the fun for the writer? The puzzle of making that conflict an integral part of the story?
It obviously works better for some kinds of books - tales that are more intimate, character focused, or political, rather than sweeping quest sagas or war novels. But in the end, we all have family.
Other tales either involve the family on the fringes of the plot or sometimes, right in the center of it. To be honest, this is usually the kind of book I prefer. I'm fascinated by the interplay of family ties, loyalty to blood relatives versus loyalty to found family, the lengths people will go to protect a family member ... and the clashes of personality. After all, as the saying goes, you can't pick your family, so what do you do when a family member is someone you wouldn't choose to have tea with?
Or worse, a criminal, murderer, antagonist? This in particular is something I've always been intrigued with, from the very start: my first two novel attempts featured characters who were closely related to the main villain. I'm still playing with the idea. To me, it's less interesting as a shock reveal than as something learned earlier in the plot, a dilemma to wrestle with.
As an only child, I have always been an outside observer to the interplay of siblings. My cousins all live(d) a considerable distance away, so I wasn't regularly exposed to that relationship, either. Perhaps that's the reason I so enjoy writing about siblings ... and no one's told me that I've gotten them terribly wrong (yet), so I must have absorbed something from watching everyone else's.
Of course, having been homeschooled gave me a slightly different perspective on siblings, too. I think there's a tendency when you're young to make friends with your closest age peer and then write off their brothers and sisters as annoying pests. I remember very distinctly suddenly learning that my friend's siblings were actually a lot of fun, and that stayed with me.
What about characters who are already married or who have children? Seems the married characters typically only show up when it's unhappy or troubled, or in sequels where the romance was played out in a previous volume. And unless the child is a catalyst to the plot - abducted, parent is trying to make a better life for them and that's the primary storyline, etc - you don't often see them, either. At least, not in the books I've read, though of course, I can think of exceptions.
... and there should be more of them. Obviously, the absence of such characters is partly due to the fact that it's hard to "work around" them in a plot: the related character is tied down, constricted, unlikely to be able to make too many moves without considering their spouse / child. But isn't that part of the fun for the writer? The puzzle of making that conflict an integral part of the story?
It obviously works better for some kinds of books - tales that are more intimate, character focused, or political, rather than sweeping quest sagas or war novels. But in the end, we all have family.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
It's the little things.
I've had a lot of entertaining conversations at work lately about products we use. We recently switched to new disposable gloves. The new ones are disturbingly like medical gloves, actually: it's exactly that color. But they are so much easier to get on (especially if your fingers are even the slightest bit wet) and sturdier. My old boss loves 'em, new boss immediately complimented them ...
... and then a captain from another location came in and recoiled. "These are terrible! Where are the old gloves?"
This isn't the only bone of contention. I can't stand the thin towels used at other locations; they hardly soak up any moisture, but they also don't leave any fabric threads. My new boss doesn't understand I love the wider roll of plastic wrap; it takes up too much space on the counter, but it makes it so much easier to securely wrap certain things. (Me and plastic wrap have always had a contentious relationship. I'm sure people who don't know me watch me struggling and wonder, wait, how long has this chick been in food service? but it's just a quirk of mine.)
Tiny acts of compromise every day, hardly noticed, hardly commented upon. Minute quirks and preferences that add up to a person. We can't agree on the little things, so why do we expect to agree on the big things?
In editing Scylla and Charybdis, I've been thinking a lot about the little things. The novel centers on a drastic change, from one isolated space station to an entire, boisterous universe, and the big things are important, consuming ... but it's the little things that we focus on, that bring the changes into sharp focus. So now I'm trying to mine those and reset them in a science fiction context, see the most mundane aspects of the unfamiliar.
Sometimes, it's no more grand than plastic gloves.
I've had a lot of entertaining conversations at work lately about products we use. We recently switched to new disposable gloves. The new ones are disturbingly like medical gloves, actually: it's exactly that color. But they are so much easier to get on (especially if your fingers are even the slightest bit wet) and sturdier. My old boss loves 'em, new boss immediately complimented them ...
... and then a captain from another location came in and recoiled. "These are terrible! Where are the old gloves?"
This isn't the only bone of contention. I can't stand the thin towels used at other locations; they hardly soak up any moisture, but they also don't leave any fabric threads. My new boss doesn't understand I love the wider roll of plastic wrap; it takes up too much space on the counter, but it makes it so much easier to securely wrap certain things. (Me and plastic wrap have always had a contentious relationship. I'm sure people who don't know me watch me struggling and wonder, wait, how long has this chick been in food service? but it's just a quirk of mine.)
Tiny acts of compromise every day, hardly noticed, hardly commented upon. Minute quirks and preferences that add up to a person. We can't agree on the little things, so why do we expect to agree on the big things?
In editing Scylla and Charybdis, I've been thinking a lot about the little things. The novel centers on a drastic change, from one isolated space station to an entire, boisterous universe, and the big things are important, consuming ... but it's the little things that we focus on, that bring the changes into sharp focus. So now I'm trying to mine those and reset them in a science fiction context, see the most mundane aspects of the unfamiliar.
Sometimes, it's no more grand than plastic gloves.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
So I've started the editing process for Scylla and Charybdis - which has involved, if you've been watching my Facebook feed, making lists upon lists to keep on hand for reference - and I made a realization.
I like to write about the apocalypse.
Or not the apocalypse itself, actually: what I like to write about is the era when the initial upheaval has passed, humanity has found ways to adapt and thrive, and nothing will ever be the same again - but people still look back and romanticize the past.
That's the backstory of Scylla and Charybdis. It's also, in a very different way, the backstory of Surgeburnt. In both cases, the destructive event is (comparatively) recent history: 110 years in Scylla and Charybdis and 90 in Surgeburnt. In the former case, I very specifically wanted the last people who would clearly remember what had happened to be dead and gone.
But this is also Undertaking Chances, my zombie novella, though the apocalypse is much closer - a matter of months - and the recovery incomplete.
I think that's the question that intrigues me: how do you get back to normal? What does normal look like when the rules have changed? I think I'm less interested in the survival and adaptation of individuals in the moment than the long-term systems that develop. (Which is maybe why I'm still stubbornly watching The Walking Dead - they've reached that phase where they recognize the need to put down roots and build. Far more interesting than the wandering-about.)
What happens to the old infrastructure? How does it get repurposed? What words and concepts - in language, in custom, in technology and the names of items - remain that once made perfect sense, but now are divorced from context? (I'm thinking of things like the phrase "roll up the windows" in a car, when we haven't had hand-cranks in years, or the fact that the Save icon in most computer programs looks like a tiny floppy disk.)
When everything changes, do we respond by trying to recapture the old, or by creating something new? Do we change our minds down the line? How reliable is nostalgia?
I grew up with such timing that I can clearly remember both the days before constant connectivity and the explosion of it, how excited we were. I remember the first time I saw a billboard with a web address on it and how much my family laughed. I remember the first camera phones and how everyone's reaction was, "What use is that? It won't catch on."
I remember saying, "Eh, by the time I need to text, there will be keyboards and I won't need to learn how to do it with the number pad." ... and I was right.
So because of this, I think, one of the elements I'm always interested in is taking that all-encompassing infrastructure and shattering it. How does society deal with broken links in that chain? Is constant connectivity too addictive to give up?
... all right, the fact that I'm a grumpy hermit might have something to do with my take on this aspect, too.
So: bring on the apocalypse! I have work to do.
I like to write about the apocalypse.
Or not the apocalypse itself, actually: what I like to write about is the era when the initial upheaval has passed, humanity has found ways to adapt and thrive, and nothing will ever be the same again - but people still look back and romanticize the past.
That's the backstory of Scylla and Charybdis. It's also, in a very different way, the backstory of Surgeburnt. In both cases, the destructive event is (comparatively) recent history: 110 years in Scylla and Charybdis and 90 in Surgeburnt. In the former case, I very specifically wanted the last people who would clearly remember what had happened to be dead and gone.
But this is also Undertaking Chances, my zombie novella, though the apocalypse is much closer - a matter of months - and the recovery incomplete.
I think that's the question that intrigues me: how do you get back to normal? What does normal look like when the rules have changed? I think I'm less interested in the survival and adaptation of individuals in the moment than the long-term systems that develop. (Which is maybe why I'm still stubbornly watching The Walking Dead - they've reached that phase where they recognize the need to put down roots and build. Far more interesting than the wandering-about.)
What happens to the old infrastructure? How does it get repurposed? What words and concepts - in language, in custom, in technology and the names of items - remain that once made perfect sense, but now are divorced from context? (I'm thinking of things like the phrase "roll up the windows" in a car, when we haven't had hand-cranks in years, or the fact that the Save icon in most computer programs looks like a tiny floppy disk.)
When everything changes, do we respond by trying to recapture the old, or by creating something new? Do we change our minds down the line? How reliable is nostalgia?
I grew up with such timing that I can clearly remember both the days before constant connectivity and the explosion of it, how excited we were. I remember the first time I saw a billboard with a web address on it and how much my family laughed. I remember the first camera phones and how everyone's reaction was, "What use is that? It won't catch on."
I remember saying, "Eh, by the time I need to text, there will be keyboards and I won't need to learn how to do it with the number pad." ... and I was right.
So because of this, I think, one of the elements I'm always interested in is taking that all-encompassing infrastructure and shattering it. How does society deal with broken links in that chain? Is constant connectivity too addictive to give up?
... all right, the fact that I'm a grumpy hermit might have something to do with my take on this aspect, too.
So: bring on the apocalypse! I have work to do.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
I've spent a lot of my life involved in roleplaying games, whether it be via email or on a MUSH (Multi-User Shared Hallucination - basically a text-only world), freeform and story-based, or - gasp! - with statistics, mechanics and virtual dice. I've even run a few games in the real world, where my players quickly figured out I had no poker face, would make predictions about where things were going, and then watch me very closely to see if they were right. Grrr.
One of the concepts that is central to these games, particularly the MUSH sort, is the distinction between IC - In Character - and OOC - Out Of Character. What this really translates to, in general, is imaginary-world / real-world. For instance, if you were in the middle of writing a scene with someone and needed to run out, you might say: "OOC: be right back, grabbing lunch." It's a simple system to carry on a mundane conversation and also to coordinate the character (IC!) action.
IC and OOC are also used less commonly to refer to specific character actions and whether they fit the character. For instance, you might say, "It would be IC for my character to be very upset." For whatever reason, you rarely see OOC used in this fashion. If there is a mismatch, players are more likely to say, "That behavior isn't IC."
So what does this have to do with writing? I find this sometimes intrudes into how I regard the various aspects of a tale. The IC is everything that exists in the world of the story, even aspects that don't appear on the page. The OOC is everything in the writing that doesn't necessarily have a reality the characters would recognize: structural choices such as chapters and scene breaks, thematic elements, etc. Narrative style straddles the line: in most first person, it is an IC aspect - it's how the character talks or writes, after all - and in many third person stories, the choice of words and tone is influenced by the personality, knowledge and outlook of the character.
Old habits are hard to break, too: I am prone to thinking of mismatched character behavior as, sure enough, "not IC." It's a quick, easy shorthand that works in my brain and helps guide me away from choices that might serve the plot, but not the people.
One of the concepts that is central to these games, particularly the MUSH sort, is the distinction between IC - In Character - and OOC - Out Of Character. What this really translates to, in general, is imaginary-world / real-world. For instance, if you were in the middle of writing a scene with someone and needed to run out, you might say: "OOC: be right back, grabbing lunch." It's a simple system to carry on a mundane conversation and also to coordinate the character (IC!) action.
IC and OOC are also used less commonly to refer to specific character actions and whether they fit the character. For instance, you might say, "It would be IC for my character to be very upset." For whatever reason, you rarely see OOC used in this fashion. If there is a mismatch, players are more likely to say, "That behavior isn't IC."
So what does this have to do with writing? I find this sometimes intrudes into how I regard the various aspects of a tale. The IC is everything that exists in the world of the story, even aspects that don't appear on the page. The OOC is everything in the writing that doesn't necessarily have a reality the characters would recognize: structural choices such as chapters and scene breaks, thematic elements, etc. Narrative style straddles the line: in most first person, it is an IC aspect - it's how the character talks or writes, after all - and in many third person stories, the choice of words and tone is influenced by the personality, knowledge and outlook of the character.
Old habits are hard to break, too: I am prone to thinking of mismatched character behavior as, sure enough, "not IC." It's a quick, easy shorthand that works in my brain and helps guide me away from choices that might serve the plot, but not the people.
Friday, August 05, 2016
Fun with Song Titles
I've mentioned before that I do themed music CDs for my elderly car, so I can listen to my collection of this, that and the other. One of the themes I like to do is word association, where the titles (and sometimes, internal versions) suggest a chain from one to the next. Here's my most recent sequence:
Gasoline - Britney Spears
Shut Up And Drive - Rihanna
I Don't Care (Lonesome Road) - Alana Davis
Lonely Girl - Oceanlab
Not Alone - Sara Bareilles
Party In My Head - September
Get the Party Started - P!nk
Begin Again - Purity Ring
Never Ending Circles - Chvrches
Circle - Sarah MacLachlan
Plain Gold Ring - Kimbra
The Golden Ball - Clannad
Gold Digger - Glee Cast version
Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Lady Gaga
Dirrty - Christina Aguilera
Earth - Imogen Heap
Diamonds and Rust - Blackmore's Night
Stone Hearts and Hand Grenades - Leona Lewis
Melt My Heart To Stone - Adele
Blaze - Colbie Caillat
Fire Under My Feet - Leona Lewis
Hands Up - September
Criminal - Britney Spears
Good Intent - Kimbra
I Told You I Was Mean - Elle King
Hurt So Good - Carly Rae Jepsen
Just Like A Pill - P!nk
Medicine - Gloria Estefan
Wait For The Healing - Amy Grant
Wait A Minute - Pussycat Dolls
Split Second - Lisa Loeb
Half Life - Imogen Heap
Sum of Our Parts - Mary Lambert
Come Together - Echosmith
Posse - Kimbra
Paper Gangsta - Lady Gaga
Hotel Paper - Michelle Branch
Hotel Nacional - Gloria Estefan
Live It Up - Colbie Caillat
(This last one is really the only one where the connection is tenuous, I think: both are songs about throwing caution to the winds and doing what feels good ...)
Gasoline - Britney Spears
Shut Up And Drive - Rihanna
I Don't Care (Lonesome Road) - Alana Davis
Lonely Girl - Oceanlab
Not Alone - Sara Bareilles
Party In My Head - September
Get the Party Started - P!nk
Begin Again - Purity Ring
Never Ending Circles - Chvrches
Circle - Sarah MacLachlan
Plain Gold Ring - Kimbra
The Golden Ball - Clannad
Gold Digger - Glee Cast version
Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Lady Gaga
Dirrty - Christina Aguilera
Earth - Imogen Heap
Diamonds and Rust - Blackmore's Night
Stone Hearts and Hand Grenades - Leona Lewis
Melt My Heart To Stone - Adele
Blaze - Colbie Caillat
Fire Under My Feet - Leona Lewis
Hands Up - September
Criminal - Britney Spears
Good Intent - Kimbra
I Told You I Was Mean - Elle King
Hurt So Good - Carly Rae Jepsen
Just Like A Pill - P!nk
Medicine - Gloria Estefan
Wait For The Healing - Amy Grant
Wait A Minute - Pussycat Dolls
Split Second - Lisa Loeb
Half Life - Imogen Heap
Sum of Our Parts - Mary Lambert
Come Together - Echosmith
Posse - Kimbra
Paper Gangsta - Lady Gaga
Hotel Paper - Michelle Branch
Hotel Nacional - Gloria Estefan
Live It Up - Colbie Caillat
(This last one is really the only one where the connection is tenuous, I think: both are songs about throwing caution to the winds and doing what feels good ...)
Wednesday, August 03, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
A short while ago, I mentioned I had begun writing on my new novel project (tentatively entitled Surgeburnt), and a crucial part of that process was choosing a font.
I was speaking somewhat tongue in cheek, but not entirely. Whenever I start a new piece, I do spend a few minutes fiddling around with fonts until I hit one that seems right. Some fonts just seem more sterile, more elegant, more humorous. Now, I'm staying mostly with the mainstream fonts - Times New Roman, Arial, Trebuchet MS, Book Antiqua - though for a while, when I was going through a phase of letter stories, I favored Monotype Corsiva, which looks like handwriting while still being easy to read.
I don't have any kind of codified system - this type of story should be written with this font, contemporary should always be this, etc. It's not an organized process, but rather a feeling, and here comes the real reason for it ... for me, the visual change on the screen serves as a subliminal key for the mindset of that story. I'm a kinesthetic person, so it's all about feel. A page in one font looks subtly different than the same page in another. Rather than being a conscious flag, it becomes a subconscious reminder of where I am, fictionally.
(Of course, it should be noted that translating to standard manuscript format is part of my pre-submissions process, but I cannot write in it. I loathe Courier. It just looks thin. I can't concentrate on text written in Courier. I can't written in double spaced lines, either: there's too much space in the middle of thoughts!)
As far as Surgeburnt is concerned, I had to choose this font. Come on, it's called Centaur. Centaur. It would be a crime not to.
I was speaking somewhat tongue in cheek, but not entirely. Whenever I start a new piece, I do spend a few minutes fiddling around with fonts until I hit one that seems right. Some fonts just seem more sterile, more elegant, more humorous. Now, I'm staying mostly with the mainstream fonts - Times New Roman, Arial, Trebuchet MS, Book Antiqua - though for a while, when I was going through a phase of letter stories, I favored Monotype Corsiva, which looks like handwriting while still being easy to read.
I don't have any kind of codified system - this type of story should be written with this font, contemporary should always be this, etc. It's not an organized process, but rather a feeling, and here comes the real reason for it ... for me, the visual change on the screen serves as a subliminal key for the mindset of that story. I'm a kinesthetic person, so it's all about feel. A page in one font looks subtly different than the same page in another. Rather than being a conscious flag, it becomes a subconscious reminder of where I am, fictionally.
(Of course, it should be noted that translating to standard manuscript format is part of my pre-submissions process, but I cannot write in it. I loathe Courier. It just looks thin. I can't concentrate on text written in Courier. I can't written in double spaced lines, either: there's too much space in the middle of thoughts!)
As far as Surgeburnt is concerned, I had to choose this font. Come on, it's called Centaur. Centaur. It would be a crime not to.
Tuesday, August 02, 2016
GoodReads Review: Alternate Outlaws ed. Mike Resnick
Alternate Outlaws by Mike ResnickMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
This is a solid collection of alternate history stories, all based on one of (sometimes both of!) two premises: a famous historical figure was in fact an outlaw; an infamous criminal was in fact the hero of the story. It's a fun idea, but many of the stories, while entertaining and satisfying as fictional yarns, don't fully live up to the promise of the premise. Others feel like slice of life, dependent entirely on the identity of the fictional outlaw to give the story interest.
I particularly enjoyed the stories based on the wackiest outlaws: Sir Francis of Assisi, Helen Keller, Santa Claus. Some of the stories were chilling: Michelle Sagara's "What She Won't Remember" (Agatha Christie), Janni Lee Simner's "Learning Magic" (Harry Houdini) and the closing story, Barbara Delaplace's "Painted Bridges (Adolph Hitler). Also of a note was a particularly lush tale featuring Queen Elizabeth, Tappan King's "The Crimson Rose." And finally, "Good Girl, Bad Dog" by Martha Soukup shows Lassie in a light you've never seen before.
This is a minor point, but in many cases, I wish the stories hadn't come with author introductions that revealed the name of the historical persona beforehand. It would have been more fun to piece together while reading.
View all my reviews
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
This time last week, I declared my intention to goof off in regards to what I chose to write, which mysteriously, was one of my most popular blog posts ever. Apparently, that means y'all need to take things more seriously.
In the spirit of that, here are a few of the novel projects I've repeatedly put off or shuffled to the bottom of the list due to marketing and sales concerns:
A Flow Sequel: I do have a title for this project, but I'm not mentioning it here since it's an implicit spoiler for the events of Flow (which in itself causes much debate I shouldn't even be having in the pre-writing phases, but having a title before I start is a key part of my process). The story would be set a few years later, with Kit at the messy end of her first serious relationship. He's part of the hidden world in that setting, so there's the additional complication that he feels responsible for her protection. (Too much, as far as Kit is concerned, which part of the reason for their evolving breakup.) Chailyn would be back, of course, and Hadrian ... and one of the exciting parts of this project for me is actually getting into his point of view. Since he has hypersensitive perceptions, day-to-day living can be an overload, and I'm excited by the challenge of trying to convey that without leaving the reader completely lost.
But ... the sales for Flow don't really justify a sequel. I can certainly make it a standalone volume, but why this book over all the others? (In addition, years later, I'd love to get back into Flow and change things, but that's another story ...)
The Great Starshine Rewrite: years and years (... and years ...) ago, I was involved in a fandom group. I had a blast, mainly because I was too young to know better, but I created a sprawling cast of characters and an ongoing conspiracy that I always thought would be fun to revive. The act of translating everything to an original world promises to create some intriguing results, and these are imaginary people I know like the back of my hand.
But ... as mentioned, the cast is sprawling. There are a massive number of characters and subplots. Not too many for me, because I'm nuts and I know the map and territory. For readers ...? That, I don't know.
A World of My Own: my long roleplaying history also includes some original contemporary settings, where I was either part of the game founders or was invited to join staff later on ... which means that I ended up designing various elements for the setting. I've considered combining these elements (or at least, a lot of them, some tweaked) into a single, cohesive setting so I can write short fiction in it. It would also give me a chance to revive well-loved characters or ones I didn't give enough life to.
But ... there's a sliding scale between urban fantasy and superhero. I have to find a consistent tone and potentially decide how comfortable I am writing superhero fiction - which seems to be a growing genre on the black and white page, but it certainly isn't an area I have a lot of knowledge about. Of course, I can fix that ...
But part two ... it's not like I lack for short stories or ideas as it is!
Helen of Troy: I'm a huge fan of Greek mythology. I grew up with them: one of my earliest story attempts was a retelling of the Pandora myth with Barbie as the main character. The Pandora story is one that never set right with me, and I've tackled it in short fiction. The Helen of Troy saga occupies a similar point of disquiet: all this strife and death over a love affair?
Scholars have numerous theories about the larger implications of Paris and Helen running away together, from the economic - the real reason for the war was trade; to the political - Helen was queen in her own right, so without her, her erstwhile husband no claim to the kingdom; to the fantastical - some sources connect Helen to a vegetation goddess and the health of her land to her presence. Yet most fictional portrayals of this storyline attempt to make it historical, sensible in our real world. To me, that's the least interesting path to take. The Greek gods are infamous for their meddling, and they do it constantly in this saga. To tell that story, full-fleshed, without taking agency away from the mortals ... that's where my interest lies.
I should note that I want to create an inspired-by tale rather than a retelling - different names, identities, other elements changed to suit ... well ... me. That allows me more freedom, including the ability to be less literal and interpret threads in non-traditional ways.
But ... it's this last point that's the tricky one. If I'm not openly identifying the storyline as Helen of Troy, does it just come off as mimicry rather than homage?
There may be more, but these are the four that I keep tossing off the island. Maybe some day! ... maybe soon.
In the spirit of that, here are a few of the novel projects I've repeatedly put off or shuffled to the bottom of the list due to marketing and sales concerns:
A Flow Sequel: I do have a title for this project, but I'm not mentioning it here since it's an implicit spoiler for the events of Flow (which in itself causes much debate I shouldn't even be having in the pre-writing phases, but having a title before I start is a key part of my process). The story would be set a few years later, with Kit at the messy end of her first serious relationship. He's part of the hidden world in that setting, so there's the additional complication that he feels responsible for her protection. (Too much, as far as Kit is concerned, which part of the reason for their evolving breakup.) Chailyn would be back, of course, and Hadrian ... and one of the exciting parts of this project for me is actually getting into his point of view. Since he has hypersensitive perceptions, day-to-day living can be an overload, and I'm excited by the challenge of trying to convey that without leaving the reader completely lost.
But ... the sales for Flow don't really justify a sequel. I can certainly make it a standalone volume, but why this book over all the others? (In addition, years later, I'd love to get back into Flow and change things, but that's another story ...)
The Great Starshine Rewrite: years and years (... and years ...) ago, I was involved in a fandom group. I had a blast, mainly because I was too young to know better, but I created a sprawling cast of characters and an ongoing conspiracy that I always thought would be fun to revive. The act of translating everything to an original world promises to create some intriguing results, and these are imaginary people I know like the back of my hand.
But ... as mentioned, the cast is sprawling. There are a massive number of characters and subplots. Not too many for me, because I'm nuts and I know the map and territory. For readers ...? That, I don't know.
A World of My Own: my long roleplaying history also includes some original contemporary settings, where I was either part of the game founders or was invited to join staff later on ... which means that I ended up designing various elements for the setting. I've considered combining these elements (or at least, a lot of them, some tweaked) into a single, cohesive setting so I can write short fiction in it. It would also give me a chance to revive well-loved characters or ones I didn't give enough life to.
But ... there's a sliding scale between urban fantasy and superhero. I have to find a consistent tone and potentially decide how comfortable I am writing superhero fiction - which seems to be a growing genre on the black and white page, but it certainly isn't an area I have a lot of knowledge about. Of course, I can fix that ...
But part two ... it's not like I lack for short stories or ideas as it is!
Helen of Troy: I'm a huge fan of Greek mythology. I grew up with them: one of my earliest story attempts was a retelling of the Pandora myth with Barbie as the main character. The Pandora story is one that never set right with me, and I've tackled it in short fiction. The Helen of Troy saga occupies a similar point of disquiet: all this strife and death over a love affair?
Scholars have numerous theories about the larger implications of Paris and Helen running away together, from the economic - the real reason for the war was trade; to the political - Helen was queen in her own right, so without her, her erstwhile husband no claim to the kingdom; to the fantastical - some sources connect Helen to a vegetation goddess and the health of her land to her presence. Yet most fictional portrayals of this storyline attempt to make it historical, sensible in our real world. To me, that's the least interesting path to take. The Greek gods are infamous for their meddling, and they do it constantly in this saga. To tell that story, full-fleshed, without taking agency away from the mortals ... that's where my interest lies.
I should note that I want to create an inspired-by tale rather than a retelling - different names, identities, other elements changed to suit ... well ... me. That allows me more freedom, including the ability to be less literal and interpret threads in non-traditional ways.
But ... it's this last point that's the tricky one. If I'm not openly identifying the storyline as Helen of Troy, does it just come off as mimicry rather than homage?
There may be more, but these are the four that I keep tossing off the island. Maybe some day! ... maybe soon.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
When I first started writing, I really didn't know what I was doing, and I blissfully enjoyed the process of stumbling about in fictional realms. I didn't worry about the business side of writing, about the things beyond writing quality that might influence whether a story could be sold: length, trends, unpopular tropes ...
And then I did worry about these things. Not so much the trends part of it - I was never all that enthused about trying to find the latest wave to ride. But length, particularly when it came to short fiction, and other elements that publishers / editors hunted for? These things bedeviled me. I pushed aside projects I thought about writing because I didn't think they would be able to sell. When my short fiction crossed certain word thresholds - and it often did; I am, after all, a novelist at heart - I would get depressed and even angry with myself. What was the point?
Recently, I've turned a corner. I've decided I'm done worrying. Partly this is because I have enough of a backlog that I'm not under pressure to produce new work with an eye towards sales (editing is another story, mind). But mainly, I want to keep hold of that crazy joy at the heart of writing; I don't want to lose the simple enjoyment of it. This is what motivated me to write my zombie novella, even though the genre is done to death and works of this length are a horror to sell: I just thought it would be a blast to write. And it was. It was the most sheer fun I'd had writing anything in a long time.
But even as I prepare to goof off, there's something else I need to give myself permission to do: pick projects that seem like a stretch for my skill level, that are difficult to pull off, that present challenges I have to think my way through. Scylla and Charybdis was just such a project, for me - novel-length science fiction being out of my comfort zone - and I gave the foundation work more love and attention than usual. Look where it ended up.
So I am resolved: let the games begin.
And then I did worry about these things. Not so much the trends part of it - I was never all that enthused about trying to find the latest wave to ride. But length, particularly when it came to short fiction, and other elements that publishers / editors hunted for? These things bedeviled me. I pushed aside projects I thought about writing because I didn't think they would be able to sell. When my short fiction crossed certain word thresholds - and it often did; I am, after all, a novelist at heart - I would get depressed and even angry with myself. What was the point?
Recently, I've turned a corner. I've decided I'm done worrying. Partly this is because I have enough of a backlog that I'm not under pressure to produce new work with an eye towards sales (editing is another story, mind). But mainly, I want to keep hold of that crazy joy at the heart of writing; I don't want to lose the simple enjoyment of it. This is what motivated me to write my zombie novella, even though the genre is done to death and works of this length are a horror to sell: I just thought it would be a blast to write. And it was. It was the most sheer fun I'd had writing anything in a long time.
But even as I prepare to goof off, there's something else I need to give myself permission to do: pick projects that seem like a stretch for my skill level, that are difficult to pull off, that present challenges I have to think my way through. Scylla and Charybdis was just such a project, for me - novel-length science fiction being out of my comfort zone - and I gave the foundation work more love and attention than usual. Look where it ended up.
So I am resolved: let the games begin.
Wednesday, July 06, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
(For those who might not have seen it yet, my author interview for Kristell Ink: http://kristell-ink.com/new-kits-on-the-block-lindsey-duncan/ )
It always bewilders me when I come across authors who rename their characters deep into a project, sometimes more than once ... and even those who don't use names but placeholders. Then there's that famous tale about Gone With The Wind and how Margaret Mitchell originally named her heroine Pansy.
I have trouble wrapping my head around it because for me, character and name are intertwined. The act of naming a character crystallizes their identity. There's something magical in the act, which is actually quite appropriate to the significance of names in ritual: when you know someone's name, you have power over them. When I would ponder new character ideas in my roleplaying games, I used to joke that as soon as I came up with a name, I was doomed. That character would exist, regardless of whether I had the room to add another.
Of course, I've needed to change character names for one reason or another: sometimes I'll find that two names are similar enough to cause confusion, and in one case, I accidentally broke a naming convention I had set out for myself. When that happens, I try to preserve the feel of the name. Usually that means changing it as little as possible, but sometimes, it's simply playing around with syllables, visuals and flow until I find something that feels right. I might not even be able to explain why the old name and the new are analogous.
I think this may be a small part of why I enjoy secondary world fantasy so much: I'm not limited to names that have been used on Earth. I can pluck them out of the ether and find someone who maybe, just maybe, couldn't even be labeled with our names. Or maybe that's just a fantasy like any other.
It always bewilders me when I come across authors who rename their characters deep into a project, sometimes more than once ... and even those who don't use names but placeholders. Then there's that famous tale about Gone With The Wind and how Margaret Mitchell originally named her heroine Pansy.
I have trouble wrapping my head around it because for me, character and name are intertwined. The act of naming a character crystallizes their identity. There's something magical in the act, which is actually quite appropriate to the significance of names in ritual: when you know someone's name, you have power over them. When I would ponder new character ideas in my roleplaying games, I used to joke that as soon as I came up with a name, I was doomed. That character would exist, regardless of whether I had the room to add another.
Of course, I've needed to change character names for one reason or another: sometimes I'll find that two names are similar enough to cause confusion, and in one case, I accidentally broke a naming convention I had set out for myself. When that happens, I try to preserve the feel of the name. Usually that means changing it as little as possible, but sometimes, it's simply playing around with syllables, visuals and flow until I find something that feels right. I might not even be able to explain why the old name and the new are analogous.
I think this may be a small part of why I enjoy secondary world fantasy so much: I'm not limited to names that have been used on Earth. I can pluck them out of the ether and find someone who maybe, just maybe, couldn't even be labeled with our names. Or maybe that's just a fantasy like any other.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
I don't tend to write in the same world - or even the same cosmology - very often. I've spoken occasionally that I admire writers who work like that and enjoy it: on the purely mercenary end, I have an inkling it probably is a surer route to building a fanbase. Unfortunately, I just have way too much fun with the nuts and bolts of worldbuilding and a short attention span. (Well ... as short as a novelist's attention span can be.)
However, recently, in contemplating some of my projects that haven't been in what I like to call my wheelhouse - "secondary world fantasy" - I've detected an amusing possibility. Follow along with me:
Flow is contemporary fantasy - specifically, set in the late Aughts (2000 - 2009) before mobile technology exploded - with a backdrop secret history of fairy incursion and underwater sorcery.
Scylla and Charybdis is soft science fiction, set in a future where humanity departed Earth and colonized a handful of planets. Travel and communication with the homeworld was always cumbersome because there nearest wormhole to Earth was several light-years away, and in the chaos of Y-Poisoning, the colonies lost contact with Earth.
My new novel project is ... uh ... post-apocalyptic science fantasy? Let's go with that. The premise is that magic exploded into the world through virtual reality, both mutating the human environment and opening portals to other worlds. (It has been left open whether or not any magic existed within this world before.)
So since the existence of magic was hidden in Flow, it's quite possible that book could be history for the other two stories. And there's even an argument for "magic" in Scylla and Charybdis: Gwydion (among others) has hypermental abilities, which are presumed to have a scientific basis (look at studies of extrasensory perception, etc) ... but who is to say? (Me, obviously.)
Looking further, again, the people in Scylla and Charybdis have lost contact with Earth. What if, in the interim, things have turned very strange indeed?
I didn't set out to connect these storylines, nor am I completely sure that all the small detail facts - dates, background information, etc - line up. But it's certainly an entertaining thought, and with Scylla and Charybdis pending edit and the new novel as yet unwritten, I could easily plant hints and Easter Eggs.
Oh, I probably won't; there's nothing really to be gained, and the downside is that it limits my options in all three venues - Flow is in finalized form, and I have pondered writing a sequel. But then again, you never know ...
However, recently, in contemplating some of my projects that haven't been in what I like to call my wheelhouse - "secondary world fantasy" - I've detected an amusing possibility. Follow along with me:
Flow is contemporary fantasy - specifically, set in the late Aughts (2000 - 2009) before mobile technology exploded - with a backdrop secret history of fairy incursion and underwater sorcery.
Scylla and Charybdis is soft science fiction, set in a future where humanity departed Earth and colonized a handful of planets. Travel and communication with the homeworld was always cumbersome because there nearest wormhole to Earth was several light-years away, and in the chaos of Y-Poisoning, the colonies lost contact with Earth.
My new novel project is ... uh ... post-apocalyptic science fantasy? Let's go with that. The premise is that magic exploded into the world through virtual reality, both mutating the human environment and opening portals to other worlds. (It has been left open whether or not any magic existed within this world before.)
So since the existence of magic was hidden in Flow, it's quite possible that book could be history for the other two stories. And there's even an argument for "magic" in Scylla and Charybdis: Gwydion (among others) has hypermental abilities, which are presumed to have a scientific basis (look at studies of extrasensory perception, etc) ... but who is to say? (Me, obviously.)
Looking further, again, the people in Scylla and Charybdis have lost contact with Earth. What if, in the interim, things have turned very strange indeed?
I didn't set out to connect these storylines, nor am I completely sure that all the small detail facts - dates, background information, etc - line up. But it's certainly an entertaining thought, and with Scylla and Charybdis pending edit and the new novel as yet unwritten, I could easily plant hints and Easter Eggs.
Oh, I probably won't; there's nothing really to be gained, and the downside is that it limits my options in all three venues - Flow is in finalized form, and I have pondered writing a sequel. But then again, you never know ...
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Novel forthcoming!
Grimbold Books / Kristell Ink has taken on my soft science fiction novel, Scylla and Charybdis! I'm in some exciting-looking company:
http://kristell-ink.com/grimbold-welcomes-our-new-authors/
The irony is, of course, that I always say my wheelhouse is secondary world fantasy, yet my two successful / accepted novels are contemporary fantasy and scifi, respectively. However, both featured very intensive worldbuilding - my notes for SaC include the class of the star, rotational and orbital periods, climate data, etc ... only a fraction of this shows up in black and white, but it helped me to make sure I was building a plausible SF setting.
http://kristell-ink.com/grimbold-welcomes-our-new-authors/
The irony is, of course, that I always say my wheelhouse is secondary world fantasy, yet my two successful / accepted novels are contemporary fantasy and scifi, respectively. However, both featured very intensive worldbuilding - my notes for SaC include the class of the star, rotational and orbital periods, climate data, etc ... only a fraction of this shows up in black and white, but it helped me to make sure I was building a plausible SF setting.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
(I just changed my fractal image - over to the left.)
The political atmosphere these days is ugly - not just in the United States, but in Britain as well. The British decision, at least, is almost over: tomorrow, the UK votes on what has been nicknamed Brexit, the decision whether to leave the European Union or remain. Regardless of which way Britain decides, however, I suspect there will be fallout, name-calling, repercussions ... everyone taking facts and twisting them to suit their particular variant of "I told you so."
The United States is in a battle that will continue for months more, of course, with two major candidates who are both polarizing figures with huge personalities. This latter muddies the waters even further: the personal and the political spill over into each other. And this battle now occurs around the metaphorical wreckage of a national tragedy.
Everyone wants a solution, but in the shouting and anxieties, the very human desire for that solution to be *simple*, proponents of one side have forgotten that "everyone wants a solution" applies to the other side, too. No one is saying, "Eh, this is just the way it is." There's no cosmic battle for good and evil going on in the political realm, wherein the belief you espouse makes you a villain or a hero.
This is not a new phenomenon, but it seems to be even worse this election cycle. Republicans and Democrats alike paint each other as the enemy (idiotic, heartless, ruthless, oblivious, sanctimonious, lazy) without making that basic assumption which allows for dialogue and thought: my opponent has their own line of logic. There's another way of looking at this issue besides my own.
Again, it's human nature. I talked in the previous blog post about the deep discomfort most people have with states outside of the binary ... what about people who agree with Republicans on some issues, Democrats with others? In the current climate, you'd better swallow your outlier position or risk accusations and imprecations.
(The partial answer to this, of course, is that there are third parties, but their electability is slim at best, and it's still very possible to disagree with certain positions. Parties align themselves according to certain fundamental principles - that human desire to organize and label, again - but individual humans are more than capable of holding specific positions that contradict generic guidelines. We're flexible like that.)
I've stayed out of discussions personally, but I'm unable to escape the lure of reading them. It's the worst of pulp (non)fiction. It turns my stomach, makes me want to grab people by the shoulders and shake them. True, there are some people who are genuinely twisted or self-interested to the point of being dangerous ... but I'd like to think that percentage is very small, and that more progress will be achieved by assuming that your opponent is operating in good faith.
If there's been any upside to this election cycle for me, it's that it has forced me to personally examine my positions and figure out where I stand - and what impact each position has. I may choose not to think about it, but I've brought passion and rational thought together, and I hope others do the same.
The political atmosphere these days is ugly - not just in the United States, but in Britain as well. The British decision, at least, is almost over: tomorrow, the UK votes on what has been nicknamed Brexit, the decision whether to leave the European Union or remain. Regardless of which way Britain decides, however, I suspect there will be fallout, name-calling, repercussions ... everyone taking facts and twisting them to suit their particular variant of "I told you so."
The United States is in a battle that will continue for months more, of course, with two major candidates who are both polarizing figures with huge personalities. This latter muddies the waters even further: the personal and the political spill over into each other. And this battle now occurs around the metaphorical wreckage of a national tragedy.
Everyone wants a solution, but in the shouting and anxieties, the very human desire for that solution to be *simple*, proponents of one side have forgotten that "everyone wants a solution" applies to the other side, too. No one is saying, "Eh, this is just the way it is." There's no cosmic battle for good and evil going on in the political realm, wherein the belief you espouse makes you a villain or a hero.
This is not a new phenomenon, but it seems to be even worse this election cycle. Republicans and Democrats alike paint each other as the enemy (idiotic, heartless, ruthless, oblivious, sanctimonious, lazy) without making that basic assumption which allows for dialogue and thought: my opponent has their own line of logic. There's another way of looking at this issue besides my own.
Again, it's human nature. I talked in the previous blog post about the deep discomfort most people have with states outside of the binary ... what about people who agree with Republicans on some issues, Democrats with others? In the current climate, you'd better swallow your outlier position or risk accusations and imprecations.
(The partial answer to this, of course, is that there are third parties, but their electability is slim at best, and it's still very possible to disagree with certain positions. Parties align themselves according to certain fundamental principles - that human desire to organize and label, again - but individual humans are more than capable of holding specific positions that contradict generic guidelines. We're flexible like that.)
I've stayed out of discussions personally, but I'm unable to escape the lure of reading them. It's the worst of pulp (non)fiction. It turns my stomach, makes me want to grab people by the shoulders and shake them. True, there are some people who are genuinely twisted or self-interested to the point of being dangerous ... but I'd like to think that percentage is very small, and that more progress will be achieved by assuming that your opponent is operating in good faith.
If there's been any upside to this election cycle for me, it's that it has forced me to personally examine my positions and figure out where I stand - and what impact each position has. I may choose not to think about it, but I've brought passion and rational thought together, and I hope others do the same.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
(This post inspired by, but not intended to be a direct response to, recent events.)
We all need to be one, people say. We need unity. We need to stop defining ourselves by labels.
But the labels are important. Without the human desire to label the pieces of the world around us, we wouldn't have language. We would be unable to distinguish between tigers and trees. The language, the labels, are also how we organize and classify the overwhelming deluge of information around us. It makes the world manageable ... mostly.
Labels are how we, as an evolving species and throughout our history, identify and manage what we should consider a threat, what might be an ally, and what is neutral. We categorize and classify as a survival strategy, and did so long before formal taxonomic systems. It's why things that don't belong in one distinct category (or belong to several) cause tension on a primal level. Much of mythology, superstition and folklore deals with these liminal forces. By defining and naming them, they become an evil that can be fought, placated and understood.
People also use labels on the personal level to recall and manipulate information. For those with a visual memory, they might picture the person or object in question instead, but others often need the words. Without a tag, an identifier, a position on the association tree, that person, thing or concept cannot be accessed by the brain - cannot be considered, contemplated, understood.
So to say "stop using labels" flies in the face of human evolution and neurology. Luckily, however, we also have the capacity to realize that the label is not the thing - that just as "Suzie" represents a person of immense complexity, to say that someone is Jewish, Swedish, bisexual is only one piece of their truth. Naming is the first step to understanding; it is not the last.
The word liminal means "on the threshold" and we can stand on that threshold - despite our deepest fears, fortified by our power - and be all things at once. We can use the words, the labels, to speak about what we must ... and know the rest in a place beyond words.
We all need to be one, people say. We need unity. We need to stop defining ourselves by labels.
But the labels are important. Without the human desire to label the pieces of the world around us, we wouldn't have language. We would be unable to distinguish between tigers and trees. The language, the labels, are also how we organize and classify the overwhelming deluge of information around us. It makes the world manageable ... mostly.
Labels are how we, as an evolving species and throughout our history, identify and manage what we should consider a threat, what might be an ally, and what is neutral. We categorize and classify as a survival strategy, and did so long before formal taxonomic systems. It's why things that don't belong in one distinct category (or belong to several) cause tension on a primal level. Much of mythology, superstition and folklore deals with these liminal forces. By defining and naming them, they become an evil that can be fought, placated and understood.
People also use labels on the personal level to recall and manipulate information. For those with a visual memory, they might picture the person or object in question instead, but others often need the words. Without a tag, an identifier, a position on the association tree, that person, thing or concept cannot be accessed by the brain - cannot be considered, contemplated, understood.
So to say "stop using labels" flies in the face of human evolution and neurology. Luckily, however, we also have the capacity to realize that the label is not the thing - that just as "Suzie" represents a person of immense complexity, to say that someone is Jewish, Swedish, bisexual is only one piece of their truth. Naming is the first step to understanding; it is not the last.
The word liminal means "on the threshold" and we can stand on that threshold - despite our deepest fears, fortified by our power - and be all things at once. We can use the words, the labels, to speak about what we must ... and know the rest in a place beyond words.
Monday, June 13, 2016
GoodReads Review: One of Our Thursdays Is Missing by Jasper Fforde
One of Our Thursdays Is Missing by Jasper FfordeMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I love the humor, imagination, and authorial madness of the Thursday Next series, and this volume did not disappoint. The sidestep that is the premise - this story is told from the viewpoint of the fictional Thursday, the version of her that exists in the BookWorld after novels were written based on her life - is handled very well. I got a clear sense of this not-Thursday's personality, and her butler / sidekick, Sprockett, is also a delight.
I have only minor quibbles. I felt that the eventual resolution wasn't laid out clearly enough to be wholly satisfying when it came - it felt like a mystery where the writer had deliberately withheld a bit of information so the reader couldn't solve the problem. The other elements of the conclusion, however, were fulfilling enough to balance this out, and an entirely appropriate end for written-Thursday's character arc.
The other problem I had has been an ongoing one: I'm never quite convinced by Landen, Thursday's husband. He seems one-dimensional to me, existing only to be a supportive ideal. It's actually a little more appropriate here, considering that written-Thursday lost "her" Landen, so he is an unattainable dream ... but the character still bothers me, and it's hard to invest in her desires when he feels flat.
Jasper Fforde has a rare ability to make complete nonsense feel cohesive and internally consistent. You know, logically, that there's no way the BookWorld makes sense, but any attempts to pick it apart end in throwing up your hands and going along for the ride. Relax and enjoy it.
View all my reviews
Thursday, June 09, 2016
Liner Notes For "The Promise of Song" now available!
It's up! Check out my flash fiction story written as CD notes:
https://87bedford.com/…/liner-notes-for-the-promise-of-song/
Mythology buffs: see how many references you can spot ...
https://87bedford.com/…/liner-notes-for-the-promise-of-song/
Mythology buffs: see how many references you can spot ...
Tuesday, June 07, 2016
GoodReads Review: By The Sword by Richard Cohen
By the Sword: A History of Gladiators, Musketeers, Samurai, Swashbucklers, and Olympic Champions by Richard CohenMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
A highly entertaining and very readable chronicle of the history of fencing, from the earliest era to dueling to modern Olympic competition, this book strikes an excellent balance between providing an overall historic and cultural perspective, and relating the stories of individuals - often with humor and/or drama. For my tastes, the later chapters on fencers in the 20th century were less interesting and took up more of the book than I would have wanted ... but that may show my bias more than anything else.
Particularly recommended for any fiction writer hoping to chronicle duels or professional sports - the book is a great source for insights on sportsmanship, legal challenges, honor, cheating, and other related topics that transcend fencing.
View all my reviews
(I don't usually post my nonfiction reviews on this blog, but this one is especially relevant to Things Fantasy, at least my Things Fantasy, and might be of interest to fellow writers.)
Wednesday, June 01, 2016
Wednesday Wanderings
For me, in a work of fiction, the story has a life of its own. It exists as an independent entity, more of a found object than a composed one; an excavation rather than a creation. Now, that doesn't mean I'm against editing and revision - changes to help a story realize its potential are, to extend the archaeological metaphor, removing the dust and debris. (Literary criticism is the scientific paper discussing the find. Fanfiction is ... all right, I'm taking the metaphor too far now.)
When I refer to story here, I want to clarify that I don't just mean the plot: I mean the sum total of character, world, plot, and to a lesser extent, tone and mood. Since I primarily write secondary world fantasy, the analogy is easy for me: the story is the history of another world. I debated a bit whether to include those last two, but decided that there's a sense of mood and tone in "real life," too, so it's appropriate to consider that part of the story.
There are other elements that may exist in a work of fiction that are intertwined with story, but (in my mind) separate from it: theme and message; education; raising awareness and increasing diversity; filling a niche; style and language; narrative structure. Some people would argue that it is impossible to separate message from story, and in the end, I agree. Even if the author doesn't consciously intend to say something, he or she does: even if it's, "sometimes, life is random."
Beautiful prose; intriguing facts that give the story life; how could I be against any of this? I'm not. I can hardly rail against experimental narratives when I've written not one, but two stories in first person plural ("we"), another entirely as a dialogue between two minds trapped in a single body with no outside cues, and am currently submitting a tale with two different endings - which completely change the context of the tale before.
But for me, there's an important caveat: these other elements must grow out of and/or serve the story, not the other way around. The story is always first. It's about authorial intent: I need this element to tell this tale properly. When a story because slave to other elements, because a writer wants to send a specific message or deliberately write something "wacky," the story begins to gasp for air. It loses verisimilitude. The long-buried pottery begins to crack.
Obviously, though, defining when this happens is very subjective. Unless the author has been interviewed about the writing process for that tale - and possibly not even then - it's nearly impossible to know in what order the elements were conceived, where the inspiration started. A story I find ridiculously contrived might seem perfectly natural to someone else, and vice versa. And, of course, we all have blinders: favorite elements or pet peeves that blind us to "flaws" or highlight them with a spotlight.
So it goes with every work of fiction: taste is subjective. One thing comes out of this that is immutable, though: for me, personally, whenever I sit down to write, I concentrate on the story and chisel out everything else from there.
Real archaeology makes me sneeze.
When I refer to story here, I want to clarify that I don't just mean the plot: I mean the sum total of character, world, plot, and to a lesser extent, tone and mood. Since I primarily write secondary world fantasy, the analogy is easy for me: the story is the history of another world. I debated a bit whether to include those last two, but decided that there's a sense of mood and tone in "real life," too, so it's appropriate to consider that part of the story.
There are other elements that may exist in a work of fiction that are intertwined with story, but (in my mind) separate from it: theme and message; education; raising awareness and increasing diversity; filling a niche; style and language; narrative structure. Some people would argue that it is impossible to separate message from story, and in the end, I agree. Even if the author doesn't consciously intend to say something, he or she does: even if it's, "sometimes, life is random."
Beautiful prose; intriguing facts that give the story life; how could I be against any of this? I'm not. I can hardly rail against experimental narratives when I've written not one, but two stories in first person plural ("we"), another entirely as a dialogue between two minds trapped in a single body with no outside cues, and am currently submitting a tale with two different endings - which completely change the context of the tale before.
But for me, there's an important caveat: these other elements must grow out of and/or serve the story, not the other way around. The story is always first. It's about authorial intent: I need this element to tell this tale properly. When a story because slave to other elements, because a writer wants to send a specific message or deliberately write something "wacky," the story begins to gasp for air. It loses verisimilitude. The long-buried pottery begins to crack.
Obviously, though, defining when this happens is very subjective. Unless the author has been interviewed about the writing process for that tale - and possibly not even then - it's nearly impossible to know in what order the elements were conceived, where the inspiration started. A story I find ridiculously contrived might seem perfectly natural to someone else, and vice versa. And, of course, we all have blinders: favorite elements or pet peeves that blind us to "flaws" or highlight them with a spotlight.
So it goes with every work of fiction: taste is subjective. One thing comes out of this that is immutable, though: for me, personally, whenever I sit down to write, I concentrate on the story and chisel out everything else from there.
Real archaeology makes me sneeze.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)