Uncategorized – Page 88 – One Thousand And One Parsecs

N is for Nebula

Of all the objects in space, nebulae are some of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring. These giant clouds of gas and dust span light-years, and often contain stellar nurseries where new stars (and with them, new planets) are born. Few things can fill me with a greater sense of wonder than a detailed, high-res image of a nebula.

Many of the classic nebulae images come from the Hubble Space Telescope, which has probably done more to bring that sense of wonder to the general public than any other telescope. These images, all of which are released by NASA into the public domain (with very few restrictions), have been shaping the pop culture dialogue about space and astronomy for more than a generation. They’ve certainly had a tremendous impact on me.

There are many different kinds of nebulae. The largest and most stunning ones are mostly diffuse, meaning that they have no clear boundaries where they begin and end. These come in two basic flavors: emission nebulae, which glow on their own due to ionized hydrogen gas, and reflection nebulae, which consist mostly of dust and don’t glow on their own, but reflect the light of nearby stars.

The Witch Head Nebula is a classic reflection nebula. Doesn’t it look eerie? It’s probably because of the way it reflects blue and purple. Many reflection nebulae share those same colors.

The Orion Nebula, one of my personal favorites, is a massive region of star formation visible just below the three iconic stars of Orion’s Belt. It contains large regions of both reflection and emission. In the center of the thickest clouds are dozens of young stars with protoplanetary disks–new solar systems in the process of being born. How many of these will go on to form planets capable of hosting life? Just a few billion years ago, our own sun may have been born in a cloud of gas and dust like this one.

The Helix Nebula, also known as the Eye of God, is apt to make you do a double-take the first time you see it! It looks almost like an eye, watching you from the midst of the heavens. Just as clouds here on Earth tend to form shapes and patterns that look like other things, so do nebulae.

The Cat’s Eye Nebula is another one of those gorgeous space objects that’s apt to give you a double take. Both the Cat’s Eye and the Helix are Planetary Nebulae, which form after a star burns off its outer layer and collapses into a white dwarf. The name is kind of misleading, because they don’t really have anything to do with planets at all–they just look a bit like them, when all you’ve got is a low powered telescope to view them with.

One of the most famous Hubble images is the Pillars of Creation, a close-up image of a stellar nursery within the Eagle Nebula. Stars form when clouds of gas and dust become so dense that they collapse on themselves, creating a gravity well that sucks up more of the surrounding dust and gas. As enough matter accumulates, the pressure and heat at the center grow until the whole thing goes nuclear. When nuclear fusion begins, the newborn star sends out a strong stellar wind that pushes away any remaining dust and gas from the rest of the nebula. After several million years, the whole cloud is blown away, leaving us with a star cluster like the Pleiades.

In the Pillars of Creation, the long, finger-like clouds of the nebula are so dense that they appear dark and opaque, blocking out any light from the other side. These kinds of structures are called molecular clouds, after their ability to form molecules due to their increased density. In this image, though, we can see a group of newborn stars just starting to blow away the cloud’s outer shell. Once the cloud is completely blown away (in just a few thousand years or so), these stars will shine clearly enough for us to see–but for now, they’re hidden inside those pillars where they were born.

The Crab Nebula is particularly fascinating, not only for the stunningly complex structures visible in this image, but because less than a millennium ago, it used to be a star. In 1054, medieval astronomers in Europe, Asia, and the Americas reported the appearance of a new star, bright enough to be seen even in daylight. What they actually saw was a supernova, the spectacular death of a massive star. When a star goes supernova, it explodes with as much energy in just a few days or months as it put out during its entire lifetime.

The outer layers were blasted out to form this nebula, while the inner core collapsed and formed a neutron star–an object so dense that it contains as much as three times the mass of the sun in a sphere roughly the size of New York City. If the supernova is really big, the star might even collapse into a black hole.

Because of how fascinating and gorgeous nebulae can be, it should come as no surprise that they often show up in science fiction. When you have a starship and can travel at ease across the stars, nebulae become a part of the geography of space, just like forests and mountain ranges in a fantasy setting. I haven’t played any of the Mass Effect games yet, but apparently they do this quite a lot. In the re-imagined Battlestar Galactica series, the colonists are able to set a course for Earth after using the Lagoon Nebula to orient themselves relative to the stars of the zodiac. And of course, who can forget the classic battle between Kirk and Khan at the end of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan?

In real life, though, it’s much more likely that nebulae like the ones above wouldn’t even be visible if you got up close to them. Even though they’re much denser than other regions of space, they’re still for the most part much less dense than our planet’s own atmosphere. From a distance, they appear bright because we can see the entire structure in one field of view, but up close, it’s possible that you wouldn’t even know you were in one.

That being said, it sure makes for more exciting fiction when the nebulae are these giant mysterious clouds capable of hiding an entire space fleet. And really, who knows what these things are actually like up close? For now, all we can do is watch them from afar. But someday, if science fiction becomes reality, we may be able to be firsthand witnesses to the births and deaths of stars.

I is for Interstellar

Right after I went through my Dinosaur phase, I saw Star Wars IV: A New Hope for the first time. Instantly, all that childlike excitement and exuberance was transferred from paleontology to astronomy. We had a series of about twenty astronomy books in my elementary school’s LRC (Asimov’s astronomy series, I believe–the ones with the gray dust jackets), and in about a year I’d read them all.

Star Wars was fun, but what was really fascinating was learning about the stars. When I started to grasp the scale of our galaxy–that if our solar system was the size of a milk carton, the Milky Way would be the size of North America–my mind was totally blown. Quasars, pulsars, black holes, white dwarfs, red giants–it was so amazing! And then, when I started thinking about all the other worlds out there, and what it would be like to visit them–that’s when I became a science fiction fan for life.

It goes without saying that you can’t have space opera without setting the story somewhere in space. But the best space opera goes much further than that–it’s about space as the final frontier, and humanity’s ultimate destiny among the stars. After all, if we as a species stay put on this pale blue dot, sooner or later we’ll kill ourselves off or suffer another mass extinction event that wipes us all out like the Dinosaurs.

For that reason, classic space opera often takes undertones of manifest destiny, except on a galactic scale. The stars are not just interesting places to visit, they’re absolutely crucial to our survival, and no matter what alien dangers await us, we will face them boldly and either conquer or be conquered.

Of course, not all space opera stories take place during the exploration and colonization phase of human interstellar expansion. Plenty of stories take place thousands of years later, once humanity has comfortably established itself among the stars. Even so, there are still more than enough wonders remaining to be explored–if not for the characters, then for the readership. The vastness of space is so great that there really is no end to it, and the possibilities are only bounded by the writer’s imagination.

One of my favorite space opera computer games is Star Control II, also know as the Ur-Quan Masters. In the game, you’re the captain of a giant starship built with alien precursor technology. The races of the Federation, including humanity, have been defeated and enslaved by an aggressive warrior race known as the Ur-Quan. You must travel from star to star, gathering resources to upgrade your starship and convincing the other alien races to join the new alliance.

By far, the best part about that game is the starmap. It’s HUGE! More worlds than anyone can possibly visit in any one playthrough, or five, or even ten. And each alien race has its own history, its own culture, its own set of goals and objectives–and oftentimes, most of these goals have very little to do with the actual conflict of the game. In fact, there are some races like the Arilou which don’t even seem to know that there’s a war going on. They’re much more interested in something frightening and mysterious from another dimension that they never quite explained, but that may involve the Orz somehow…

With each new world that you discover, you learn that the galaxy has a very, very, very long history. So long, in fact, that the human race has only really existed for a blip in time. The other races are involved in their own disputes, and many of these go back to the times when our ancestors were swinging through the trees somewhere in central Africa. But whether or not we want to be a part of it, we’re involved, simply by virtue of where our star happens to be located.

The best space opera isn’t just about our world: it’s about our place in a much wider universe. Whether it’s a serious tale about humanity’s ultimate destiny, or an action-packed intergalactic romp, there’s always that sense of something greater than us–that same sense of wonder that gripped me as a boy when I first started to learn about the stars.

Image by nyrath at Project Rho. I highly recommend checking out his excellent starmaps!

G is for Gravity

cmdr_hadfield_juggling — Commander Hadfield planning a zero-g easter egg hunt earlier this month on the ISS.

Possibly one of the most defining aspects of space is the sensation of free fall. Of course, gravity exists in space, the same as it does everywhere else in the universe (probably), but in space we feel its effects differently because we aren’t close enough to a body of sufficient mass to feel a strong pull. That, and our spaceship itself is also in free fall, so if that’s our frame of reference we feel no weight because there’s nothing for weight to push back on … but that’s a concept probably best left for O is for Orbit.

The thing is, as fun as weightlessness can be, in the long-term it can have some negative health effects, such as deterioration of bone and muscles, weakening of the immune system, etc. The effects of micro gravity on human fertility are not very well-studied, but there’s some speculation that conception and gestation would be impossible, since embryos need gravity in order to implant properly. Humans are adapted to live on the surface of Earth, and that means living with a constant 10 m/s² or so of gravitational acceleration.

For future space colonies and spacefaring civilizations, this means we need to find a way to simulate the effects of gravity in a micro-gravity environment. There are a few common ways to deal with this problem:

Artificial Gravity — Applied phlebotinum that creates a field within which the gravity is normal. A necessary weasel hand wave that you’ll see most often in soft sci-fi and space opera, where the plot and characters are more important than the science.
Centrifugal Gravity — The illusion of gravity created by spinning a can-like spaceship or space station in a circle, pressing the humans against the inside wall. You’ll see this in both hard and soft sci-fi. Scale it up, and you get Ringworld Planets.
Powerful Starship Drive — If your starship drive is powerful enough, it can accelerate you at 10 m/s², effectively creating the sensation of gravity. Your starship will be like a flying skyscraper, where “down” is in the direction of the engines. At this rate of acceleration, you should reach 99.9% the speed of light in about a year, which opens up all sorts of possibilities for relativistic space travel (provided you have a sufficiently massive energy source to sustain that reaction). Just be sure to give yourself the same amount of time to decelerate, otherwise bad things may happen.
Baby Planet — An asteroid no larger than a small asteroid that still, for some reason, has normal Earth-like gravity. Think Le Petit Prince. Not nearly as common as the other three, but the existence of gravitational waves means that it may be possible (or at least plausible) to create gravity generators that work this way.
Roll with it — Yeah, so everything is weightless in space. So what? Deal.

Another problem related to gravity is rapid deceleration. Unless you don’t mind splattering everyone in your starship all over the walls and ceilings, you can’t go from zero to near-light speeds (or vice versa) without some way to counteract the sharp change in momentum. Space opera and soft sci-fi gets around this by using inertial dampers–basically, magical devices that give the starship a nice, soft ride (unless you want the bridge to explode, of course). As you might expect, stories on the harder side of sci-fi tend to play around with this a lot more.

My first exposure to artificial gravity came when I read a comic book version of The Norby Chronicles by Isaac Asimov. The characters had a device that would basically allow them to levitate, and I thought that was so cool. It wasn’t until I read the Corellia Trilogy by Roger Allen McBride that I realized that every starship in the Star Wars universe had a machine that could manipulate gravity like this. At one point, the artificial gravity generators on one of the ships failed. My mind was blown, and I’ve never looked at gravity the same since.

I tend to write stories where the characters and plot are more central than the science, so I’ll often just fall back on the standard artificial gravity field like most space opera. During combat maneuvers, though, things get a bit more tricky, with dampers on the bridge that mitigate (but don’t erase) the worst effects of rapid deceleration, and special coffin-like chambers for the crew below decks to keep them from getting splattered. In my Star Wanderers series, I also use centrifugal gravity for the larger space stations, since I figure the energy costs of artificial gravity tend to scale up.

In short, science fiction stories that address the problem of gravity in a real and thoughtful way tend to be a lot more believable and immersive, even if the solution to the problem is basically magic. As with anything in science fiction, there are so many imaginative ways of dealing with the problem that it’s actually more of an opportunity than anything else.

C is for Cryo

I think every science fiction writer has a cryo (aka “human popsicle“) story sitting around somewhere, even if it’s just in the back of their head. It’s one of those tropes that keeps coming back, just like the alien invasion, the robot apocalypse, and the Adam and Eve plot.

The basic concept is pretty simple, even if the technology is a bit more complex: a human or animal undergoes rapid freezing in order to put themselves into stasis for an extended period of time. Months, years, or even centuries later, someone thaws and resuscitates them so that they wake up in a completely different time and place.

There are a lot of good reasons why going into cryo makes sense in a science fiction universe. One of the more common ones is that the characters are colonists on a mission to an alien star, and their spaceship doesn’t have a faster-than-light drive. Rather than go through all the trouble of building a generation ship, the designers instead built a series of cryo chambers to put the colonists into stasis for an extended period of time. It might take centuries or millennia for the ship to reach its destination, but when it does, the colonists wake up as if it’s just been a long, dreamless night.

In The Worthing Saga, Orson Scott Card has a somewhat unusual rationale behind the prevalence of cryo in his universe (though they call it “hot sleep,” and it’s induced by a drug called soma). Only the rich can afford the technology, and the imperial overlords very carefully regulate the use of it so that there’s a clear hierarchy based on who goes under for the longest amount at a time. It’s a way for the citizens to achieve a simulated form of immortality, by skipping five or ten years every year or two of their lives.

In the Halo video game series, the UNSC uses cryo as a way to preserve their greatest military assets, the Spartans, for the times when they’re needed. The first game in the series starts when John-117, aka the Master Chief, is awakened just as the starship Pillar of Autumn crash lands on a mysterious alien structure. Like something from an old Norse legend, the third game ends when the Master Chief seals himself into the cryo chamber of a derelict starship, telling the AI Cortana “wake me when you need me.” (highlight to view spoilers).

So why are cryo stories so prevalent in science fiction? For one thing, they’ve been floating around in our cultural subconscious a lot longer than the genre has been in existence–just think of Sleeping Beauty or Rip Van Winkle. For another thing, the science is not that far-fetched. Certain animals can be revived after extended periods of frozen stasis, and according to the New York Times, it’s happened at least once with a human being. Science fiction has a long history of turning fiction into fact (for example, Arthur C. Clarke and communication satellites), so perhaps it’s only a matter of time before human cryotech becomes a reality.

I’m definitely a fan of this trope in my own writing. Genesis Earth has a chapter with a rather horrific cryothaw scene, which I later spun off into a short piece titled “From the Ice Incarnate.” I haven’t played with it much in my latest books, but in Heart of the Nebula which I hope to publish later this year, the cryotech plays a very important role in the plot. And if I ever write a prequel to my Gaia Nova series showing how that universe got started, it will feature a cryo colonization story. The main premise of that series is that a group of human colonists fled 21st century Earth and went into cryo to colonize a distant corner of the galaxy, but when they woke up, they couldn’t find Earth anymore, so it became something of an ancient holy legend (which is a major driver for Desert Stars).

Trope Tuesday: Fridge Logic, Fridge Horror, and Fridge Brilliance

It's amazing how many existential story questions arise from this view. — It’s amazing how many stories suddenly stop making sense from this point of view.

You know that moment after the end of the show, when the credits are rolling and the glory of that crowning moment of awesome is just beginning to fade? When you go to the fridge to get something to eat, and all of a sudden that gaping plot hole or internal consistency problem with the story hits you? Yeah, that’s fridge logic.

The key, though, is that it’s not something you normally question while you’re reading the book or watching the show. While you’re in the story itself, the narrative is so compelling that you just don’t question it–that, or rule of cool is in play. It’s only after the story is over that those questions start to arise.

It doesn’t have to come from bad writing. Sometimes, it’s a result of values dissonance, especially for stories written in a different time or culture (although by no means is this phenomenon immune to bad writing). Sometimes, it’s a result of a tomato surprise, where a reveal of something the characters have known all along completely changes the audience’s understanding of the story (though certainly, this isn’t immune to bad writing either).

Not all fridge logic is bad. Fridge horror happens when a story becomes even more terrifying the more you think about it. Some of the scariest horror stories have done this to me, as well as some that weren’t really intended to finish on downer endings but kinda sorta did. Cracked.com did an interesting article on six movies that went that way.

But the best is when a story turns around and gives you fridge brilliance–that moment when you realize that that thing that bothered you actually changes the nature of the story in a way that suddenly makes it your favorite.

My favorite novel of all time, The Neverending Story, totally did this to me. When I first read it in fourth grade, there were so many things that made the story awesome: the Temple of a Thousand Doors, the test of the three gates, the old man who is the exact opposite of the Childlike Empress in every way, and of course the signature phrase “but that is another story and shall be told another time.” But when I reread it in college, I realized that the real story–the underlying story that brings everything together–isn’t about a loser kid having all sorts of adventures in a fantastic world, but about the power of storytelling itself, and how it can fill the world with love.

Another moment of fridge brilliance came to me when I learned the story behind the writing of Legend, my favorite novel by David Gemmell, my favorite fantasy writer. The book is about a hopeless battle that everyone knows cannot be won, and the people who decide to go and fight it anyway. That’s all well and good, except that David Gemmell wrote it immediately after he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The story of the battle itself was a metaphor for his own life, and his struggle with his own impending death. Lucky for all of us, after he finished writing it the doctor came back and told him that the first test was a false positive–that he was going to live after all. He then went on to write almost thirty more books, all of them off-the-charts awesome.

So yeah, there you have it. These are more reader tropes than writer tropes, but as a writer it’s good to keep them in mind. Don’t be lazy, otherwise your fans will pick your stories apart (or if you have to leave a hole, be sure to hang a lampshade on it). And if you find yourself smacking your forehead over something you’ve already written and published, see if you can’t revisit it in later books in the series and turn it into fridge brilliance.

1000 posts and counting

1000dollars — Not quite the same, but we’ll run with it anyway.

According to my WordPress dashboard, this is the 1,000th post on this blog. I was going to hold off and do something big and momentous for the occasion, but then I figured it would be better to do a quick footnote and get on with the regular program.

Nine hundred ninety nine blog posts ago, I was a college student at BYU who had just decided to write my first novel instead of a massive Final Fantasy VI fanfic. The year was 2007, I had a bunch of unfinished novels and stories left over from high school, but I’d never actually finished anything. I started this blog so that my writing friends could keep me honest.

If I could have seen myself now, I probably would have thought that I’m crazy (I think I got those verb tenses right…). Back in 2007, writing was still a hobby. I had dreams of turning it into something a little bit more, but I never intended to try and make it my full time career–though if you’d asked me what I wanted to do for a career, I couldn’t have given you an answer.

A thousand blog posts from now, where will I be? Married, probably, with a couple of kids (or at least one on the way). Hopefully by then, I’ll have turned this writing dream into a full time career–heck, I’m not all that far from making it happen right now.

The 2013 me hopes that I’ll be living somewhere exotic, having an extended overseas adventure with my lovely wife. But the truth is that I’ll probably be settled down somewhere, trying to pay off a house and raise a family the responsible way. If that’s the case, I’ll probably look back on my 2013 self and think he’s crazy.

But hey, who knows what the future will bring?

One thing that’s almost certainly true is that I’ll still be blogging. I don’t just blog to promote my books, or to build my “platform” (oh how I hate that word), or anything slimy like that. I’ve been blogging since before I decided to turn this writing thing into a career, and I keep on doing it because I love doing it. Because really, how in the heck can you get to a thousand of anything without loving it?

On that note, I should add that I’ve signed up for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge for the month of April. Every day (except Sundays), I’ll do a post that starts with a different letter of the alphabet, starting at A and going down to Z. My theme is going to be things I love about science fiction and fantasy, and it’s going to include a number of common tropes. It’s going to be fun!

So yeah, here’s to the first thousand posts on this blog. It certainly won’t be the last! 🙂

I will turn this time suck into a powerful new writing motivator

Last night, I caved and bought the new FTL game that all my friends have been talking about.

OMIGOSH.

Six hours later, I was screaming in agony as my awesome starship went down in flames. AGAIN. In sector eight (on the easy setting, though, so not too impressive).

Seriously, this game is AMAZING. I haven’t seen such a perfect combination of strategy, skill, random chance, and dumb luck since Star Control II. There are SO MANY things you can do … and SO MANY ways you can die! I love it!

Granted, with every game like this, there’s a danger that it will become a huge time suck (minecraft, anyone?). However, this one is different.

Famous last words, right?

But seriously, each round takes only an hour or two, there’s only one save slot, and you die so frequently that it’s hard to become too attached to any one game. In other words, this is the sort of game I can pick up and put down again without devoting too much mental space to it. Which (hopefully) makes it a perfect carrot to get me to write more.

Here’s what I’m going to do: for every thousand words in my WIP, I’ll allow myself to play one (and only one!) round of FTL. If I hit my daily goal, I’ll allow myself to play as much as I want.

It’s still too early to tell if this is going to work, but I’m going to give it a try. Seriously, though, once I told myself “you can play FTL as soon as you hit that first 1k,” all I wanted to do was write! And now that I’m more or less finished with this blog post, I think that’s what I’m going to do.

Later!

And now for a little Minecraft…

I call it Teotihuacan.

The temples each have a base of 31×31 blocks and a height of 13 blocks, with the topmost level a 7×7 square. They are spaced kitty corner five blocks diagonally, in a sort of equilateral quadrangle. The biome is actually a swamp; I added the jungle trees later for effect.

The idea came to me a couple of weeks ago, when I was playing with my toddler nephew. I built a Mayan step pyramid out of Duplos with him, then figured why not do the same thing in Minecraft? The first attempt was in survival mode, which took FOREVER, so for this one I decided to go creative.

Overall, I’m rather pleased. This was my first time playing around in creative mode, and I must say it’s a lot more … creative. Go figure.

Don’t worry, I’m still writing. This was just a little diversion to keep me busy between job applications and temp jobs. The staffing agency has kept me pretty busy until now, so I’m looking for something a little more steady. Had an interview at J-Dogs today that went pretty well–hopefully, I’ll hear back from them next week.

In the meantime, I’d better get some sleep. G’night!

Read an Ebook Week 2013 at Smashwords

In case you didn’t know, the first week of March is Read an Ebook Week. Apparently, this is something that the early adopters of ebooks started back in 2004 to help popularize the new reading format and break down some of the initial wariness from the general public.

Well, Smashwords does a Read an Ebook Week promo every year, and I’ve enrolled all of my books at a 50% discount. If you want to check out one of my $.99 short stories like “Memoirs of a Snowflake,” or Part II (Fidelity) and Part III (Sacrifice) of the Star Wanderers series, you can now pick those up for free. If you want to try out one of my novels, like Bringing Stella Home or Desert Stars, they’re all under $3. In fact, with the promo code REW50, all my books are under $3 on Smashwords right now.

Also, if you’re a Smashwords affiliate, I’ve juiced the affiliate bonus for all of my titles to 35%. Since I sell all my full-length novels at $4.95, you can make about $1.75 for each referral–almost the full 85% for a novel selling at $2.99.

Some indie writers aren’t too keen on Smashwords, but I’m definitely a fan of the site. Mark Coker has done a lot of great things, opening doors and breaking down walls to help us get our stories out to the world. He’s also been good to readers, especially international readers, who have to pay an extra $2 surcharge for any ebooks they buy on Amazon.

Once you purchase a book on Smashwords, you have access to multiple DRM-free formats, including mobi (Kindle), epub (Nook, Kobo ereader), PDF, and straight up HTML for online reading, among others. Anytime the author uploads a new version, you have access to that as well (or any of the previous versions since the initial purchase). All the books are screened before going up on the site, so the formatting is generally pretty clean.

So yeah, between March 3-9, feel free to check out my books on Smashwords! And while you’re at it, check out some of the other great authors as well. There’s a lot of good stuff up there–a lot of black swans that would never have made it in traditional publishing, but thanks to the ebook revolution now have a decent chance. Who knows what you’ll find? It might just be your next favorite book!

Why I am not afraid of the Noise part III

These days, it seems as if everyone is terrified by the fact that anyone can publish a book. Indies, self-published writers, authors with traditional book contracts–it doesn’t matter. Everyone is mortified by the sheer volume of crap books coming out nowadays, as if Sturgeon’s Law is a new thing. The assumption is that all this noise is making it harder to get noticed–that readers have to slog through all the crap to find the good stuff.

I’ve blogged about this twice before, here and here. My views haven’t changed–I still think that the flood of crap ebooks is nothing for writers or readers to fear. However, I’ve found a new way to think about it.

It’s been almost two years since I tested the waters of self/indie publishing. Since then, I’ve learned that an ebook is like a message in a bottle, floating in the midst of a stormy sea. Readers make up the ocean, and the vicissitudes of the market are the storms that rage across it.

A good book will tend to float, whereas a bad book will tend to sink. Gimmicks like Select freebies and other promotional activities may pull the bottle back up to the surface, but they won’t make it float. And maybe, if a bottle sinks to the bottom of the ocean, someone will come trawling for sunken treasure and haul it up, but more likely than not it will just stay there.

Most readers don’t go to the bottom of the ocean to find their books. They go to the beaches, where the bottles eventually wash up. These represent communities like book clubs or Goodreads, or just groups of friends who like to talk about books. When a bottle does wash up on a beach, that represents a book coming into its natural audience. It might take years, but if the book is good enough to float, eventually it will wash up somewhere.

As long as the bottle floats, it doesn’t matter how deep the ocean is beneath it. Similarly, as long as a book is selling a handful of copies a month, it doesn’t matter that there are ten million bazillion crap ebooks on Amazon, or Smashwords, or Kobo, or wherever. Those books are all at the bottom of the ocean, where the waters are calm and cold.

When I was a kid, I was terrified of deep water. Then I had a swimming instructor who told me that it didn’t matter how deep the water was–so long as I could swim, the ocean could be a mile deep and it wouldn’t matter. Since then, I’ve swum in some pretty deep waters, and I can say with complete confidence that my swimming instructor was right.

Discoverability and visibility are challenges for authors everywhere, but the problem is not the flood of crap that everyone always worries about. It doesn’t matter how deep the ocean is, or how many ebooks are being published. Instead, the problem is making sure that your writing is good enough to float. If it is, then with enough courage and perseverance, you’re going to make it.

Right now, I feel like most of my books are floating on the face of that stormy ocean. A couple of them have sunk, mostly the short stories. I’m not much of a short story writer, though, so that makes sense–I still have a lot to learn in that area. But the novels and novellas are all selling, with no promotion other than the first title in the series set to perma-free. That tells me that they aren’t crap. So long as I can keep telling good stories, I’m confident that my books will find their audience. When and where they’ll wash up, I have no idea, but one thing is certain: all the crap at the bottom of the ebook ocean isn’t going to keep me from making it.

Image taken from this site here, which I recommend checking out. Interesting stories!