The Other School Dream

The School Dream

You’ve all had it. Where you find yourself back in school with everything going wrong. Either you’re naked, or you’ve got a test in a class you don’t remember signing up for, or some other horror of adolescence. My recurring variation is one where someone at the St. Paul School Board realizes I failed to take some vital cluster of courses and contacts me to let me know that if I don’t come back and take another year of high school they’re going to revoke my entire education including college. I had this dream at least a couple of times a year from graduation through selling a book, almost always when I was worrying about something or feeling insecure.

After that first sale, the school dream changed. Now when the person at the school board calls me into their office, I will bring a copy of my university diploma and a couple of my books, drop them on their desk and either walk out or offer to teach a seminar or two. I usually have this version after some sort of writing milestone. Apparently getting to the place where I can see the end of MythOS counts.

Last night I dreamed that I was back in school looking for my home room. I was late, but unworried about it. When I finally showed up, the teacher asked me if I was always going to be so late. I told him yes and explained that I was back for the year because it was a cheaper way of picking up some college course I needed for research for my books. The teacher challenged me on the books front and I upended my backpack spilling out something like thirty books under five names, all of which I had written. The pile included the WebMage stuff, several of my books under submission and, for reasons known only to my subconscious a couple of Star Wars tie-ins.

(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog February 15 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)

15th Publishing Anniversary

I sold my first short story 15 years ago today. The story was WebMage and went to Weird Tales, then edited by George Scithers and Darrell Schweitzer and published by Warren Lapine—I still remember the magazine’s address: 123 Crooked Lane. That short later became the 1st couple chapters of the novel. I started writing fiction in 1991, so in terms of my career, I have now been a professionally published writer twice as long as I was an unpublished one, which is surreal beyond all words.

Dear Feline Collective Follow-Up

Re: ugly development in lapsharing negotiations.

It has come to management’s attention that already today the writer-in-residence has twice had, not one, but two cats taking up valuable lap space normally devoted to the means of writerly production (see laptop, Apple iBook G4).

Further it has come to management’s attention that resolution of which cat retained possession of said lap was resolved through hissing and intimidation. Once, blows were even exchanged. This is simply not acceptable and may actually result in demonstration by writer-in-residence that despite normal dominance protocols, writer-in-residence is in fact a larger predator, one who outweighs said cats by an order of magnitude.

Please take note of the fact that despite being a Cat Softie, with a capital CS, writer-in-residence has a very limited patience for anything that involves potential bleeding, and adjust your negotiating strategies accordingly.

Thank you,
The management

2013 P.S. The comment threads on the original versions of these posts have some really funny responses. See below for links.

(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog February 1 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)

Dear Feline Collective

Re: Proposed change to new lapsharing arrangements/monopolization of space normally used for writing.

It has come to management’s attention that some sort of agreement has been reached amongst the feline members of the household in re: lapsharing (the process by which writer-in-residence lap time is arranged). Said agreement seems to involve a continuous rotation of laptime amongst the four younger cats, said rotation working not unlike a relay race.

While such feline cooperation is laudable in terms of the increased level of inter-feline amicability, it does have one rather severe drawback. To whit, displacement of the laptop belonging to the writer-in-residence. Which fact, in turn, causes a significant loss in potential productivity.

For more notes on same, see attached charts. Chart one maps the difficulty of typing whilst a cat is resting her head on the writer’s wrist (Isabelle). Chart two shows reduction in productivity directly related to cats frequently licking the thumb used to manipulate the trackball (Ashbless and Nutmeg). And, of course, chart three shows the total loss of productivity caused by the repeated smashing of a cat’s forehead into the nose of the writer-in-residence (Jordan). Please contrast this with the lack of impediments to productivity caused by laying in front of the heater some yards from the writer-in-residence’s place of writing (Leith) as outlined in chart four.

Management would very much like to see more laying about near the writer-in-residence during the hours of production and less laying on the writer-in-residence during those same hours. Management proposes an increased distribution of treats and decreased amount of abruptly dropping cats off of said lap to offset lost laptime. Further, management is open to other possible compensation to be proposed by the collective.

We eagerly await your response.

All best,
Management (speaking for the writer-in-residence)

(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog January 31 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)

Friday Cat Blogging (Saturday Afternoon Special)

Comin’ through, cat on mission, excuse me, comin’ through…

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Who the hells was that!

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I have no idea. Also, excuse me, mister, spare a tuna?

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Hang on, I think we’re losing focus. Who was that strange cat?

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Yeah, I want to know. The question is very nearly keeping me awake here.

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Well, it wasn’t me.

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It was me, I admit it. You caught me, copper, and then you shot me. Now, I die. Woe.

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Very interesting… Also, strange.

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With thanks to Scott Lynch for supplying the mystery cat and couch.

Research

So, quite a while back I promised I’d talk about research a bit. With 18 books either completed or attempted this is something I would seem to know a bit about. I’m not entirely sure that’s the case, since it’s an awfully idiosyncratic process, and not just in terms of writer to writer, but even book to book. Still, there are a few commonalities that are worth mentioning.

Part I Open Research:

1) Ongoing and general research. I would recommend that every writer do this in whatever way is most suited to them. Which means:

1a) Read. Read constantly. Read non-fiction. Read widely. In my case I do a good bit of web reading–following interesting links from news and science sites. I also always have at least one non-fiction book going, usually several. Right now I’m reading How Mumbo Jumbo Conquered the World (anti-mumbo-jumbo, pro-science screed), Plants in Hawaiian Culture (just what it sounds like and just started-this one is directed research for WebMage VI should it ever happen), The World Without Us (a book on how fast and in what ways the Earth would change if people were removed tomorrow), A book on Indian (India) myths and legends, and two novels. I’m also reading–as a part of my regular ongoing reading–articles in Discover, Science News, and Popular Science–I get an amazing number of fantasy ideas from science magazines, not to mention a few science fiction ideas.

1b) Take notes. Every time I go somewhere or do something out of the ordinary I encounter new and interesting bits of information. Anytime that any of them tickle my writer-sense I write them down. Sometimes a bit leads nowhere, but just the act of writing it down fixes the whole experience in my memory and other things that happened near the thing I thought was potentially useful are the ones that turn out to be useful.

2) Directed/Undirected useful habits.

2a) Bookstore browsing. Everywhere I go I try to spend some time looking at the local book selection, especially the local used book selection. I’m especially careful to do this in places that are geographically remote from my home ground (Hawaii, Halifax) or intellectually focused (Cultural Museums, History Centers). No matter the topic there are a jillion books on it, but without being able to physically browse through them and see what the local authorities think of as important, it can be difficult to figure out just what you want to pick up. I look especially for small press and/or scholarly work on topics relevant to the place/mission. That’s how I ended up with the Plants in Hawaiian Culture book which promises to be fascinating.

2b) Big Books of ______, Cultural/Historical Atlases, Visual Histories, Timelines, See How A _______ works, Encyclopedias. Scour used bookstores for these. Pick a price point and buy anything that falls under that price point, because you never know which ones are going to be terribly terribly useful three books down the road, and these kinds of book are priceless.

You want something aimed somewhere between the smart 12 year old and the seriously curious tourist, because that’s really the level of detail most readers are looking for, the cool stuff. The really deep, deep expert stuff is usually too much. If you care too much about the really deep details, you will often end up including stuff that bores the daylights out of the reader.

Read them, especially the encyclopedias–juicy little fact bits make great grist for the writing mill and can provide fantastic telling details. The atlases are also especially useful, allowing you to orient yourself both physically and historically. There you’re looking for things like a historical atlas of London with neighborhoods and landmarks shown, or an Atlas of World War II battles that gives you strategic and positional information on the war.
Part II Specific Research:

Here I’m going to talk about specific, directed, research in the context of two books, Outside In (incomplete and temporarily trunked) and Numismancer. I’m picking these two because the primary research process for each is fairly accessible and is really just an extension of the general techniques described in my last post.

A brief digression here on the value of librarians and other human sources. One of the secrets of my research success is knowing a number of good librarians and keeping track of who in my social network knows what about what–i.e. if I ever need to know anything about felt or felting I’ll call Paula. Many research problems have been solved by  emailing my librarian friend Jody or others in my network of experts, and some of that happened with each and every one of these books.

Outside In:

This book was intended to be a dark contemporary fantasy exploring the secret magical history of architecture. I’ve written several novels of this sort–though none has yet sold–and it’s a genre I really enjoy writing. This particular iteration was closer to horror than I usually get and that’s part of why it got trunked.

As with any book I write, a huge portion of the overall structure rests on things already in my head at the beginning of the book. In this case, a bunch of stuff on the Roman household gods (particularly the Lares and Penates–the gods of the cupboards and doors among other things) tied itself together with the grounding I’d gotten in architecture while taking Art History classes, and the construction techniques I’d learned as part of my technical theater training. There were other influences, but that was the core of it.

My research for the book broke down into three major components: setting, context, and history and I’ll address them in that order.*

Setting: In this case, St. Paul/Minneapolis ~2006, a made-up but plausible curriculum for a special Masters program in architecture at the U of M, a huge and semi-haunted mansion in St. Paul’s Summit Ave neighborhood. To cover all of that I needed: 1) a good St. Paul/Minneapolis atlas (already owned). 2) the online course catalogs of a half-dozen architectural Masters programs. 3) Websites detailing several historic Summit Ave. mansions including the James J. Hill house, as well as websites for a couple of other non-Summit mansions. Because the setting was so terribly important for a story built around the magic of buildings, one of the very first things I did was to draw up top elevations of the multiple floors of the mansion.

Context: Magical and architectural. In this case, the Roman gods structure provided a good deal of my underlying magic and was something I’d already refreshed in the course of writing and researching the WebMage books—which reading was in turn built upon intense childhood interest in mythology. The main part of my magical research was to look for more extensive sourcing on the Lares and Penates. Sadly, a perusal of Google and the ERIC academic article search system demonstrated that there isn’t much written on them. What there is, I’ve mostly read at this point. My other primary sources were a copy of Trachtenberg and Hyman’s Architecture, which I read cover to cover and extensively highlighted and bookmarked, and The Oxford Dictionary of Architecture (used as a secondary source rather than read through). The former was the suggestion of a friend who’d spent some time in the U of M’s architecture program, the latter is an Oxford reference book—I pick those up whenever I find them cheap enough.

History: Mostly my research here came from the Trachtenberg and Hyman and Oxford Dictionary of Architecture mentioned earlier, with a leavening of historical summaries from the various mansions I’d studied.

Numismancer:

Another secret magical history book, in this case, the secret history of money. This one came out of a dream I’d had in which coins from a fountain drove away a bunch of dark fey that had been chasing me. Set in Edinburgh and Brussels around 2007 with strong references to the Scottish Parliament, the E.U. banking system, small craft sailing, and schizophrenia.

Setting: For this book I drew a great deal on the almost two months I’ve spent in the Edinburgh area over the past fifteen years. I also picked up a good European atlas (which covered Brussels) and an ordinance survey map of Edinburgh (the primary setting).

Context: My main book reference for the context and history of money and coinage was The Teach Yourself Guide to Numismatics which is a sort of history and lexicon of numismatics in alphabetical order, and is absolutely fantastic. It breaks the study up into easily digestible and fascinating info-nuggets. I will buy any of this series if I ever see them again. My sources for the E.U. banking system and the Scottish parliament were primarily the websites belonging to those institutions. They contained more information than I could use or digest laid out in a relatively straightforward format. Sailing? I’m no longer certain what reference books I used for that. I’m not seeing them on the current dig through the heap, though What’s What: a Visual Glossary of the Physical World probably played a part. For the schizophrenia sourcing I mostly called on a lot of memories of what it was like to spend a good deal of time with a close relative who is a paranoid schizophrenia. This last is a rich source of information but can be hard on both the schizophrenic and the observer.

History: Various general histories of Edinburgh originally read because I love both history and Scotland and because I read non-fiction voraciously as fuel for the fires. Also, many text and sites focusing on Edinburgh features that became important to the story as I went along, including the parliament site, websites and books about the history of the Forth bridge, the University of Edinburgh’s website and many others.

2013 update: That’s all for now, though I’d originally planned to go over several more books.

(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog as two posts on January 21 2008 and, January 23 2008. Original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)

 

 

Rewrites and the Happy Writer

This is a merging of two posts I wrote for the Wyrdsmiths blog back in ’08.

Post the first: Justine Larbalestier is saying very smart things about rewriting at her blog. It’s an involved post and definitely worth reading. As usual I don’t agree with her about everything, but I’m a funny sort of monkey and much less prone to rounds of self-doubt and low self esteem than the average author.

Post the second (a response to that part of that otherwise wonderful post on rewriting that made me want to tear my hair out): Aspects of Justine’s enormously useful post on rewriting have inspired me to write a post I hadn’t planned.

It’s really all because of this paragraph: Reading through what you have written with all those contradictory and annoying comments scrawled in the margins will most likely fill you with despair. Don’t worry: Despair is an integral part of the rewriting process. Your despair will deepen. When you’ve been over a manuscript four or five or twenty or a hundred times you’ll know the true meaning of despair.

This idea drives me crazy. Yes, despair can be a part of the process, and for many writers it is. But “integral?” No, I don’t think so. I’ve certainly felt despair as a writer, but always over the business, never over the writing. I love writing. I love rewriting too. I even love finding those structural flaws Justine talks about. Do I like that they’re there? No. But I love the problem solving game involved in fixing them.

I actually find the idea that every writer must have moments of massive self-doubt and misery over their work to be deeply pernicious. It has the potential to cause happy writers to either devalue their own non-despair inducing process or to seek out misery in hopes that it will improve their work. And that’s just not right. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the whole thing.

If you do happen to feel despair as part of the process, that’s all right–there are 1,001 ways to write a novel, every one of them right. But if you don’t, don’t beat yourself up over it. Revel in not suffering for your art. For a longer take on that, go read Jane Yolen’s wonderful book on writing: Take Joy.

The process doesn’t have to hurt.

(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog as two posts on January 2 2008 and, January 3 2008. Original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)

 

Friday Cat Blogging

I love my toes! They are delicious!

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I remember when I could see my toes.

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I’m pretty sure I just saw some toes go by the window…

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I am dubious about the whole toes thing.

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I am dubious about the photographer, myself.

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Series Writing and Balance

Over the last few I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how to balance all the things that a good series book needs to.

There’s the book’s individual arc, without which it’s not so much a story on it’s own as part of a multi-volume story. There are series arc considerations, and mini-arc considerations.

Also, how do you give new readers enough info to who is who and what their backstories look like without boring your long-time readers to tears.

For example there was a question from someone in my writers group last night about why a main character took a particular action. I was hard pressed to come with a good short answer on the spot and thinking about it later, the answer is ultimately: because the end of Book III., plus bits elsewhere in other books. The character, of course, knows what happened, as does everybody else in the room for this scene. It’s also not something that can easily be summed up because it’s a multi-chapter chunk of story and character that lays out across multiple books.

So, what of that do you put in? A big chunk will bring the current story to screaming halt. A small chunk would, in this case, probably make the decision seem even stranger. I think that sometimes you just have to leave bits out and hope the reader will trust you that it will all make sense in the end.

Another question has to do with what bits that don’t advance the book arc do you put in to serve the fans and the bigger arcs. There are a lot of character in these books and long time readers like to see the important ones from earlier stories. When is a cameo fan service and series maintenance, and when is it unnecessary diversion.

I really don’t have concrete answers to any of these questions, since it’s something you have to do in context and largely by feel, but this is what I’ve been thinking about, and I thought you might find it interesting.

The Problem of Rivendell–Or, Utopia isn’t Very Interesting…Except when it is

I’ve been thinking about utopia scenes in F&SF and thought I’d share the process here.

One of the legacies that the Lord of the Rings has left high fantasy is the trope of the sylvan utopia. Rivendell, Lothlorien, and to a lesser extent the Shire itself and the house of Bombadil are all manifestations of the beautiful rural/sylvan idyll.

As a reader and lover of the Lord of the Rings these places are dear to my heart. As a reader and writer of things not the Lord of the Rings, their legacy all too often causes me stress.

Even the most skilled of writers, a Tolkien say, has to handle moments of downtime like those in Lorien or Rivendell very carefully. This is as true of technological and other future utopias of science fiction as it is of the sylvan sort in fantasy.

One reason for this is that long descriptions of utopia have a tendency toward the boring. Another is that they all too often come at the expense of other things, like plot and character development. Finally, one person’s beautiful idyll is another’s trite fairy tale is a third’s description of techno-naptime.

This is especially true at the front end of a story when reader interest is at its weakest. Starting out with even five pages of utopian idyll instead of conflict is very likely to result in the reader putting down the book and never picking it up again.

Now, there can be very good reasons to start out slow, most often the desire to show the reader all that the lead character is about to lose when the raiders come and destroy everything important (Piper’s Space Viking), or when the protagonist shoulders a burden to protect that very idyll (Lord of the Rings), but it’s something to be approached with great caution, or so it would seem to me.

(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog December 18 2007, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)