Thoughts after finishing Vortex by Robert Charles Wilson

Whoa.

If I had to sum up my thoughts with one word, that would be it–though of course, by itself that word is hopelessly inadequate.  Let’s just say that, for me at least, this  was a truly astounding book, a literary journey that left me wide-eyed with my mouth hanging open, blinking wearily as I looked up from the last page and returned, reluctantly, to the world of physical reality.

I don’t plan to spend this blog post talking about how awesome this book is, however; I’ll save that for a review.  Rather, I want to spend some time talking about how this book has influenced the way I think about science fiction and my own writing, and to share a few of my thoughts having just finished it less than an hour ago.

If anything, this book has shown me that science fiction–real science fiction–is about staring into the unblinking void of the cosmos with a deep and abiding need to find answers, or perhaps more accurately, to ask questions.  This inevitably produces a sense of wonder, but that’s merely incidental; the genre is really about fulfilling an almost religious need to connect with something greater than oneself.

I enjoy reading science fiction and experiencing that connection, but I don’t need it–not in the way that I sense some of the grand masters of the genre truly did.  Instead, I hunger for the sense of wonder and adventure that is more characteristic of fantasy.  In my own writing, it’s not so much the grand sweep of the cosmos that interests me as much as the intimacies of human nature–which isn’t to say that the two are incompatible, but that my preferences lean more to the one than the other.

What I’m saying is that it’s not science fiction that I write, so much as science fantasy.  I still feel drawn to space adventures and the trappings of science fiction–I’m not at all interested in writing about elves or dragons–but at their heart, the books I write are more fantasy than true science fiction.

Which might be a purely esoteric distinction to the average reader, but if it helps me to understand my own writing, it’s a distinction worth making.  If science fantasy is the sub-genre that really speaks to me, then that’s the kind of literature that I should explore.  Of course, it’s important to be well-read in multiple genres, but if there’s a particular one in which you want to write, it stands to reason that that’s the one on which you need to be an expert.

So that’s my new goal: to explore fantasy, science fantasy in particular, and the ways in which other sub-genres like space opera and space adventure lean more toward the fantasy side of things than pure science fiction. And to keep reading really awesome books.

Managing excitement and an idea for an epic fantasy novel

After getting about 40% through Star Wanderers 1.0, I hit a wall and decided to put the project on the back burner for now.  The beginning part, which I’m hoping to shop around as a novelette, has some issues with it and those are keeping me from making any real progress in the rest of the story.

I wish I could just wave my hand and pretend as if I’ve already fixed those problems, but my creative process just doesn’t work like that.  I guess I’m more of a discovery writer in that way, because I can only build on stuff that I’ve already written.  I have to figure out my characters as I write, otherwise they just fall flat.

It’s discouraging, because I feel like I don’t have enough control or discipline over my creative process.  Other writers seem to be able to pick up a project and finish it, even when that project is commissioned by someone else (editors, franchise owners, etc).  But with me, if I can’t get excited about a project, I can’t finish it.

Fortunately, even if I can’t always control which project I’m excited about, I always seem to be excited about something.  After finishing the last revision for Desert Stars, I felt this unusually strong urge to work on Into the Nebulous Deep (which, after the last post, I’ve tentatively decided to rename Heart of the Nebula).  I totally didn’t see that coming, but I’m glad that it did, because that project is getting due for its first major revision.  It’ll probably be a quick one, just to fix some major known issues before sending it off to first readers.

As for new projects, I’m not quite sure what to pick up next.  I’ve got a feeling I could give Edenfall another shot, though it’s dubious at this point, and I still have a bit of lingering excitement over the untitled Gaia Nova novel that involves Roman, Danica, Rina, and Stella’s son.

At the same time, though, I have a really cool idea for a fantasy novel involving magic swords.  The idea is that the swords are actual characters, with the ability to think, feel, remember, and communicate with those who wield them.  They can only be wielded by those whose minds have been melded to them, however, kind of like the Dragonriders of Pern.

As the swords get passed down from generation to generation, they pass on their skills and memories, so that those who wield them become legendary warriors.  However, all but one of the swords goes insane, turning their wielders to evil.  The one sword that remains has refused to take on a new master, even though war and destruction sweeps the land.  A prophecy states that the one who wields this sword will eventually defeat the evil of the others, but when the good sword finally does take on a new owner, it ends up being a farmgirl / tavern wench (I haven’t really decided).

I don’t have a lot of experience writing fantasy, but this story is starting to really excite me.  If I can combine it with a few other ideas and read some good fantasy novels to get into that mood, I think I can make some good progress on it.

So yeah–I have plenty of projects to work on, so things aren’t that bad.  I just need to find one that I can really get into for the next couple of months; if I keep bouncing around from project to project without finishing any of them, that’ll be bad.

Guest post: Developing Characters in a Fantasy Setting

Nathan Major is a friend and fellow writing who, like me, has taken the epublishing route for his first novel, Paradise Seekers. I met him through our mutual friend Charlie at Brandon Sanderson’s English 318 class.  His book is pretty good; I’m only partway through it right now, but he’s playing with some interesting fantasy concepts and I’m definitely looking forward to seeing how he pulls it off.

I recently appeared on his blog with a guest post on how I develop my characters; for his appearance here, I decided to throw the question back at him.  Like a true fantasy author, he answered it with a multi-part epic that is probably only the first installment of a trilogy.  He makes some good points, though, and it’s definitely worth reading (and not just for the snarkiness, heh).

On a tangentially related note, I also appeared recently on Charlie’s blog with a post on ebook formatting and book DIY.  When you’re finished here, be sure to check it out!

And now, I give you Nathan Major…

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When you think of fantasy, what is the first thing that comes to your mind? Mystical worlds populated with elves, dwarfs, and other magical races? Kingdoms and castles, dark lords and noble heroes? Perhaps you entertain a world that is more supernatural and more interesting than our own, one that would allow you to escape to its enchanted forests and sweeping vistas.

The fantasy genre differs from other forms of fiction (except perhaps science fiction) in that the worlds they take place in tend to be the stars of the stories. Middle-earth and Prydain. Oz and Earthsea. And within these worlds, a classic clash of good vs evil is expected. The characters and story can often take a backseat, with many authors spending years of their lives crafting the perfect magic system, most precise system of fantastical government, and the means to make their elves the best damn elves you’ve ever seen.

This drives me crazy.

I’ve been reading fantasy my entire life, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that I got fed up with the whole thing. I loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but as I dug deeper and picked up more modern fantasy, it all seemed to start blending together. Here is our noble hero, beating the odds to fight against a nameless, oft-hidden dark lord. Here is his spunky princess sidekick slash love interest, his old mentor who dies in act two, and the hardened warrior with a dark secret. While not all books contained these tropes, the main issue still persisted: I wasn’t seeing any new characters.

That was actually what drove me to writing. After reading through a particularly popular fantasy book that was also atrociously generic, I remember tossing the book on the couch and thinking, “I could do better than this!” So I set out to try my damnedest to write a fantasy novel that, yes, was in a fantastic worlds that we wish we could live in, but was populated by people just as interesting and well-developed as the world.

Since I’m severely ADHD, I’m going to break this up into a few key ideas that (hopefully) will get my point across. These aren’t just applicable to fantasy, but it’ll be my main focus.

1) Plan your characters first, before you plan the world.

Simple enough, right? When speaking with most other fantasy authors on the subject of brainstorming, the first things they say are, “Oh, I got the coolest idea for a magic system!” or “This world is going to be amazing…it’s made entirely out of White Chedder Cheese-its!” To which I say, “Ok, but what’s the story? And who are the people influenced by the story?” This is usually met with a, “I don’t know, I’ll figure it out later!” Then I defriend them on Facebook and pretend they never existed.

Ok, so the last part was an exaggeration. But the point still stands: you may have the greatest world ever devised, but so do map-makers, and theirs looks better. What is actually in the book is the plot and the characters, and the world is just what it takes place in. You might have the greatest appendix ever at the end explaining how the Haku-Bula Wolf Tribe’s language is actually a combination of grunts and Swedish, but that doesn’t matter to the average reader. Figure that stuff out after you’ve got a story, because it’s less important.

2) Don’t fall into cliches.

This is a hard one, as discovered by me when writing my third book, Where Gods and Mortals Dance. If you’ll excuse a moment of self-indulgence, when writing this book I had a female princess as the main character. She was a strong character, but due to circumstances beyond her control she was thrust into a situation that was almost impossible for her to fix. I remember trying to design her as strong but still fragile, as parts of her past haunted her and made her ability to rule difficult.

Then I took her to writing group, where the group was divided. Half said she was the, “generic, strong, masculine princess who takes charge,” and the other half felt she was the “weak, needy, spoiled princess” who has everything done for her.

It frustrated me, but also proved a point.

I was relying on two cliches and stereotypes to design my character. I drew from both in an attempt to be original, but that didn’t work. This happens all the time in fantasy. We have the old warrior, somehow inferior to our spunky young farmhand who picked up a weapon for the first time yesterday. We have a dark lord who never actually does any fighting or has any coherent plans, he just sort of sits on his throne of skulls and knives (which is probably black and on fire) and waits for farmhands to come and kill him.

Even in the most original novels, these cliches can become evident. They might not be as blatant as the ones said above, but keep them in mind when writing. Your book doesn’t have to star a teenager. It could star a forty-year-old man who wants to save the world. There doesn’t have to be a Dark Lord at all; the enemy could be something completely different. Stay the hell away from elves, dwarfs, or anything that Tolkien used. And taking Orcs, changing them slightly, and calling them “Orks” doesn’t count as being original, it counts as being a cop-out. Fight the cliché. Make your characters deep and unique.

3) Remember: Everyone is a hero in their own story

Sympathetic villains are a rarity in fantasy. Most of the time we have a group that is distinctly bad, and a group that is distinctly good. You can usually tell by how they live. If they live in trees, clouds, or anything that communes with nature: good. If they live in filth, a swamp, or basically anywhere that looks like it’s under the constant duress of a smoke-machine: evil. Usually bad-guy motives are just “they are bad and hate the good guys,” which is a freaking awful excuse. Oh, and don’t get me started on the “he’s insane, that’s why he wants to destroy the world!” villains. That’s the biggest cop-out of them all and if you use it I want to punch you in the face right now. You are cheapening your characters and your story to make things easier for you. Here’s a revelation: good books aren’t easy. It took Tolkien how long to craft the novel that essentially invented modern fantasy? I’m not saying you should take two decades to make your book, but you should at least have to take more than one sentence to describe your villain’s motives.

The best part about the above expression (which is probably my motto when it comes to developing characters) is that it changes the way you look at your book. Life isn’t black and white: it’s a whole lot of gray. You might see something in black and white, but if you were given a chance to enter someone else’s head, perhaps your view would switch entirely. Nothing is scarier than a completely sane, totally competent villain whose goals just so happen to be the exact opposite of our hero’s. In fact, it makes the reader uncomfortable, because many of them will no longer know who to root for. If you are doing it right, your villain’s motives and values should be just as convincing as the hero’s, which means the reader should be second-guessing their loyalties throughout the book. It makes for a hell of an engaging read, let me tell you.

But this little ditty isn’t just for main characters. Side characters also need to be their own heroes. Sam didn’t just tag along with Frodo because it was a fun thing to do. He knew what had to be done (probably even better than Frodo) and fulfilled that personal quest. Your side characters need to have their own motives and motivations, depth and personality. Don’t’ drag them to Mt. Doom with the only reason being “because the hero was heading that direction anyway.” They should be just as deep (or at least close to the level of depth) as your hero. Make them interesting, and your reader will love them even more.

4) For your characters to be successful, you must know them better than they know themselves

Wow, that’s a long one, and it is sort of off the theme of “broad, overgeneralizing statements” that these bullet points have been so far. At any rate, I’ll try and be brief with this one because it seems self-explanatory.

I have a friend author who, upon designing a character, takes an online “100 questions personality test.” While I’m not saying this is the “go-to” answer for everybody, it can be an extremely helpful tool in understanding a character better. What do they like to eat? What is their taste in women (or men)? If they magically appeared in our world and wanted to hang out, what would you do? These are questions that’ll maybe never be addressed in the story, but you should know these answers. If a character has a name and is in the book for more than a single chapter, you should know everything about them.

This can be hard work, especially if you like having a billion characters. But even if you just have one or two, you really need to be in their heads. Know them. Be them. Imagine them in other situations besides in your novel. And once you really understand what makes your spunky farmhand tick, then you’ll be able to write him in both a convincing and believable way.

5) Write characters you’d like to read about

Figured I’d end this on a simple one. It’s very easy when writing to get the rose-tinted glasses put on, and all of a sudden everything in your book seems perfect. Your characters are a little cliched, but whose aren’t? Your dark lord doesn’t really have a idiom, but he does have a badass axe carved from the ashen bones of the long-lost race of dragons. Who wouldn’t like this book?

Take a step back and think. And if you can’t think of yourself, think of me. A cynical, jaded red-head who writes fantasy only because most of the fantasy currently out there pisses him off. I am your audience. I am biased, blatant, and unbelievably good looking. What would I say?

If you know your characters (see #4!), and you know them well enough then this step shouldn’t be an issue. You’ll like them regardless, because any author gets attached to a character they know every aspect of. In my current novel, Effulgent Corruption, one of the viewpoint characters is complete scum. My initial development of him was a murderous, rampaging madman whose only reason for existence was to kill and destroy. However, as I dug deeper and began to understand the character, he became sympathetic. I realized the man’s goals, what emotional pains he’s been through, and what hurts him now. I knew who he relied on, and what parts of himself he hated.

He quickly became my favorite character.

This should happen with you. You should love your villains, and hope that, should this whole “world-saving hero” thing blow over, their goals will be accomplished. Your side characters should be entertaining and fun, people you’d want to hang out with, just like your hero does. You should know everybody and at least have a shred of sympathy for them. Then, you’ll have great characters.

This, of course, isn’t a complete guide to developing good fantasy characters. Hell, it isn’t really even a very specific one. But I’m almost 100% sure that, should you take these ideas to heart, you can beat the odds and write a fantasy novel that is as interesting in its ideas about elven politics as it is with its elaborate, three-dimensional characters. Fantasy as a genre deserves better, and you (yes, you!) can be the one to do it. So go forth, young author, and write the epic that will shake the Barnes and Nobles across the land!

Plus, it’ll increase your chances that I’ll actually read it, which is a perk in and of itself.

Copyright (c) 2011 by Nathan Major

Thoughts on traditional vs. indie publishing

In case you didn’t know, the publishing industry is in the throes of a major revolution.  With the growing popularity of e-books and the collapse of distribution channels and chain bookstores such as Borders, traditional business models are proving simply untenable.

I’ve been perusing several internet sources to make sense of all the craziness, among them Joe Konrath’s blog (a midlister who is now making six figures via ebooks), Writer Beware (which still emphasizes caution with self-publishing), the Adventures in Sci Fi Publishing podcast (which has recently started interviewing several successful indie authors), Dean Wesley Smith’s blog, and his wife Kristine Rusch’s series on the changing business of publishing (which I highly recommend–seriously, if you read nothing else, read this).

Some of these people predict the imminent collapse of the big publishers, and have selected (ironically enough) 2012 as the predicted date of the collapse.  Others agree that many traditional publishers will collapse, but believe that most will survive and evolve into something different (the “dinosaurs evolved into birds” theory vs. the giant meteor).  All of them agree, however, that whatever new form the publishing industry takes, ebooks will dominate.

For someone in my position–a budding author looking to break in in the next few years–all of this is simultaneously thrilling and unnerving.  Should I venture into indie publishing and risk having my work lost in the flood?  Or should I spend the next five years toiling endlessly to break into traditional publishing, only to see my rights get tied up in a bankruptcy?

Thus far, my strategy has been to a reputable agent, or a new agent at a reputable agency.  I’ve been holding back from submitting directly to publishers, out of fear that getting rejected from publishers would make it difficult for an agent to do her job.

That was the orthodox model under the traditional system, when the big six (HBGUSA, HarperCollins, McMillan, Penguin, Random House, and Simon & Schuster) dominated the industry.  For the time being, they still dominate, but I’m wondering whether it’s such a good idea to go with them.

The big six have been swallowing up independent presses and imprints for years, and as a result, they’re now major corporations.  As such, they aren’t looking for moderate midlisters who sell consistently–those kinds of writers would drive them bankrupt.  No, in order to support their corporate expenses (like multimillion dollar office space and executive bonuses), they need bestsellers like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling.

Trouble is, they often lose when they gamble on new writers, which means that the next bestseller needs to be even more spectacular than the first.  And with the ebook revolution underway, they’re getting desperate.

Agent Kristin Nelson recently lambasted McMillan for claiming rights to all “derivative works” in their new boilerplate (a bad faith move comparable, IMO, with the worst scams on Writer Beware), while Kristine Rusch recently noted how the big publishers are becoming increasing hostile to new writers.  Advances as low as $1,500, or single book only contracts, or nebulous clauses that ensure publishers keep ebook rights for decades, even with the author barely making $20 per year on royalties?

How am I ever going to make it full time in a business like this?

Well, according to Joe Konrath, every day my books aren’t up as indie published ebooks, I’m losing big money.  His views are pretty extreme, but he makes a very compelling argument, especially for someone in my position.  Yes, there will be a flood of crap, but good stuff inevitably rises to the top.  Yes, sales start out slow, but that’s simply part of the new model–and they build over time.  For a minimal investment of time and money, I could launch my books and start earning an income from them now.

But money (such as I may or may not make as an indie) isn’t everything in this business.  At this point in my career, gaining prestige and making a name for myself is just as much if not more important than income.  Granted, I can build some prestige through indie publishing if my books sell enough, but I don’t want to have to depend on that, especially if it takes years for sales to build.

For the science fiction and fantasy genres, the professional standard is set by SFWA, or the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America.  In order to become a member, you have to have your work published in one of their approved markets.

Last night, I did some research on those publishers.  Of those that specialize specifically in science fiction and fantasy, seven of them are affiliated with the big six (Tor, Ace, Baen, Bantam Spectra, Roc, Del Ray, and Orbit).  Thirteen others are independent presses that might conceivably be interested in my work.

Now, just because a science fiction and fantasy imprint is affiliated with the big six doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea to submit to them.  Tor, after all, is the undisputed king of the genre–the company has won the Hugo for “best publisher” every year since 1988.  I also tend to think (though I have no data to support it) that the bad contracts are more common with mainstream fiction.  Science fiction, after all, has always been small potatoes to the rest of the publishing world.

But precisely because science fiction is so small, I’m starting to wonder if it’s a bad idea to submit to agents first.  Agents go where the money is–in LDS publishing, virtually every author is unagented.  While there’s still a national market for science fiction, it’s definitely a small one, and all the agents I’ve found always tend to list it as an afterthought, focusing instead on YA/MG, thrillers, romance, or the ubiquitous “commercial fiction.”

In other words, I think that part of the reason agents have been so reluctant to pick me up, even after showing some interest, is that they just don’t see enough money to justify taking a risk on me.  Granted, it may also be the quality of my work, but the bulk of the rejections I’ve accrued seem to point more to subjective factors, like the agent’s personal tastes (the ubiquitous “I don’t feel I’m the right agent for this work”).

Which is not to say that I don’t think it’s a good idea to get agent–not at all.  Even Amanda Hocking, who has turned down several big publishing deals, has an agent.

No, what I’m saying is that in today’s market, it might be easier for a science fiction writer to attract an agent by getting picked up by a publisher, rather than attract a publisher by getting picked up by an agent.

And, of course, the only big reason to do any of this is to make a name for myself.  At some point, I will go indie, even if only with a few of my works.  The revolution has arrived, and I’d be a fool not to capitalize on it–the only question is when, and how.

(images from Postsecret)

Wolverton interview and more

The interview with Dave Wolverton was a resounding success!  We had a fascinating conversation about science fiction and the gospel, his latest book In The Company of Angels, self-publishing, the English 318 class at BYU and the profound impact it’s had on the LDS writing community, and much, much more.

On that, I suppose I should disclose my full reasons for going down to St George and meeting with Dave.  I’m putting together an article for the December 2010 issue of Mormon Artist, where I hope to give a brief history of BYU’s “class that wouldn’t die” and explore the impact that it’s had on both the LDS writing community and on mainstream sf&f.

The “class that wouldn’t die” was the group of students who signed up for the first English 318R science fiction creative writing class at BYU, back in ’78 (I think it was ’78…gotta check that).  After the semester was over, the students banded together through forming a writing group, which they called “Xenobia.”

They didn’t stop there, however.  As Xenobia grew and matured, the students decided to form other organizations designed to help new writers (especially sf&f writers) improve their craft and build their writing careers.  Specifically, they founded Quark, BYU’s science fiction and fantasy club; Leading Edge, a student-run magazine that gives written feedback to every story submitted; and LTUE, an annual science fiction and fantasy symposium (like a convention, only no costumes).

These organizations, as well as the 318 class, led directly to the explosion of LDS writers in science fiction and fantasy.  Several bestselling LDS authors, including Stephanie Meyers, Brandon Sanderson, and Dan Wells (among many others) can trace the launch of their careers back to this class.  In turn, these authors are having a tremendous impact on mainstream sf&f literature.

The article is slated to come out in next December’s issue of Mormon Artist Magazine, just in time for LTUE 2011 (which I hope to attend).  Right now, I’m in the research phase, meeting with some really amazing people and gathering some fascinating stories.  This article is going to be awesome.

In parting, let me share one of the more interesting things Dave said in the interview.  As we talked about all these amazing resources available for sf&f writers in Utah valley, I asked him why this happened in this community and not elsewhere.

His answer was extremely insightful: for many writers, the mentality is that once you break in, you have to close the gate behind you.  It’s something of a zero-sub game, where people horde their ideas, compete with each other to break in, etc.

Not so in the LDS community.  As Latter-day Saints, we have a deep-set mentality of helping each other and building each other up.  That’s exactly what happened with the “class that wouldn’t die”–they did everything they could to foster other writers.  The proliferation of Latter-day Saints in mainstream sf&f is a direct result of this.

That’s Dave’s take on it, anyway.  It will be interesting to hear what others think.

Oh, and FYI, Mormon Artist is 100% volunteer run and free, so when the article and interview come out, you won’t have to pay anything to read them.  I’ll certainly provide links on this blog–stay tuned!

And as one final note, check out this piece of Xenobia history: the original Quantum Duck, as featured in the first issue of The Leading Edge.  Why a quantum duck, you ask?  Because that’s where the club’s name came from: a bumper sticker that said: BEWARE THE QUANTUM DUCK THAT GOES ‘QUARK,’ ‘QUARK’!

Story notebook #2

A while ago I rediscovered my first story notebook and wrote a few posts on it.  I promised I’d do the same for my other story notebooks, so here’s the next one.

For those of you who may be surprised that I’m sharing all my story ideas, let me explain why I’m doing this.  First, ideas are cheap, especially in genres as imaginative and inventive as science fiction and fantasy.  What really matters is the execution, and any two people’s take on the same idea is going to be different. For that reason, I’m not too worried about anyone “stealing” my ideas.

Second, and more importantly, I believe that the only way for ideas to grow in value is for them to be shared.  Ideas that get horded only worsen with age, because they’re not being explored. Only by exploring ideas can they come into their full potential, and the best way to explore ideas is to share them.  When we fail to share our ideas, we inevitably fail to explore them from all angles, because working alone in a vacuum, we’re so much more likely to miss something crucial.

Enough of that.  Here are the story ideas from my second notebook, roughly covering the fall of ’08, right after I finished my first novel and got back from Jordan.

How will myths arise in the space exploration age? Previously, myths formed perhaps because people had very limited means of communication and limited means of world awareness. Now, technology allows much better spread of information and science, but in isolated spacecraft, will [the conditions of isolation that lead to myth formation] return?

An interesting and somewhat complicated thought. How do myths form, anyway? I suppose that at the very least, the extreme isolation of space will lead to a proliferation of wildly different cultures and worldviews.

Just as the Catholic monks set up a monastery in Iceland, so people will go beyond the explored universe in the age of space travel and set up a religious order there.

Fascinating–and I think it runs somewhat counter to the grain, too. Most people tend to see space explorers as either adventurers or absolute believers in pure science–but what about the devoutly religious? If the Catholic monks set up a monastery in Iceland, is it possible that the monks of some other religious order may set one up on Mars, or Alpha Centauri, or Gliese?

And…that’s all I’ve got in this notebook. Sorry–there’s lots of scribbling and calculating for Genesis Earth, as well as library call numbers for books about Saladin and the Crusades, but not too much else in the way of story ideas. For more, you’ll have to wait until story notebook #3.

Dying of the Light by George R. R. Martin

Worlorn is a planet without a sun, wandering on the fringes of the galaxy where the skies are starless.  Though it came to life briefly as it passed the red giant Fat Satan, those days are over, and the world is slowly dying.

Dirk T’Larien never thought he would find himself on such a forsaken world. But when his onetime lover, Gwen Delvano, sends him a plea for help, he realizes that more than anything, he wants to have her back.

It will not be easy, however.  Gwen is betheyn to two men: Jaantony Vikary, whom she loves, and Garse Janacek, whom she hates.  Both are from Kavalar, a warlike planet where offworlders are considered subhuman.  And even though Worlorn is slowly dying, a colony of extremist Kavalars has taken root, planning to bring back the old ways when offworlders were hunted like beasts.

I picked up this book at Pioneer Books a couple weeks ago; I saw that it was by George R. R. Martin and decided to give it a try.  I was very much impressed.  For the last hundred pages, I couldn’t put it down, and the story haunted me for a couple days after I’d finished it.

The strongest element of the story was definitely the setting.  The story may be set in a grand galactic empire with spaceships and alien worlds, but make no mistake, this beautiful piece of space opera reads more like fantasy than science fiction.  There’s even a thirty page glossary of terms in the back, for ease of reference.

The effect of Martin’s grandiose worldbuilding is a haunting sense of wonder that keeps you, as the reader, hooked.  The more you read, the more you immerse yourself in the world; and the more you immerse yourself, the more you want to read.  After the story ends, you still find yourself thinking about the fantastic worlds, as if you’ve actually been there.  It’s awesome.

Another thing that kept me hooked was the basic premise of the plot.  The main character, Dirk T’Larien, is trying to win back the affection of an ex-girlfriend and get back together.  That’s something with which I can definitely relate–the ex even has the same name (roughly) as a girl I once chased after (quite unrequitedly, may I add).  Because of this, I was drawn into the story right away.

Martin is known for his plot twists, however, and though the story began as a basic love triangle, it very quickly became… something else.  I’m not entirely sure how to describe it without giving major spoilers, but I will say that I found it impossible to predict how this story would end.  I found that a lot more annoying than enjoyable, however–just when I thought things were headed in a certain direction, something happened to nullify everyone’s efforts and turn things completely around.

Despite this, however, the story…worked.  I don’t know quite how to describe it.  The basic markers were all there, even though they were jumbled in unpredictable patterns.  No death was meaningless, no success was insignificant; there was no excess baggage in the story that didn’t somehow belong.

All around, it was a very good book.  Kind of dark, but not nearly as edgy as I was expecting.  This is definitely the kind of science fiction that a fantasy reader would go for–and probably most science fiction readers as well.

Dinner with friends

I had dinner tonight with one of my classmates from English 318 last year, who is a frequent commenter on this blog.  He and his wife were kind enough to invite me over to their apartment, where we ate, talked, hung out, and had a general good time.

It was great to see an old friend from Sanderson’s class!  We talked a lot about writing, and that was way cool–I haven’t been around people who can talk writing since I left Provo (not counting the IM conversations I have with Chuck every other day).  At one point, his wife had to stop and say “wait, let’s put this conversation on pause and let me get to know this guy”!

He showed me this interesting online compendium of Wheel of Time characters, which blew me away; I haven’t read the Wheel of Time series yet, but just looking at how many characters are in the books, I have no idea how anyone could write something like that.  I guess that’s the direction Fantasy is going in–enormous worlds, long books, dozens and even hundreds of characters.

We talked about all kinds of other things, too–school and work, career decisions, future plans, social pressures, life in general, etc.  It was great being with interesting people who are genuinely interested in what you have to say.  I tend to be a little self-conscious about the fact that I talk too much, but they got me to talk a lot–about how I decided to be a writer, how I wrote Genesis Earth from story idea to the latest draft, my future goals as a writer, etc etc.  It was a lot of fun.

We also talked about my current project (working title: Bringing Stella Home), and I shared the 30 second story blurb.  I then asked them what they think the title should be, and together we came up with an interesting title idea: Saving Ben and Stella.

What do you think of it?  I kindof think it has a nice ring to it.  Mentions Ben and Stella, which shows that Ben’s storyline is important as well as Stella’s. Then again, it’s not much of a change from the previous one.

In any case, I had an awesome time with Stephen and his wife.  It’s great to have friends wherever you travel, and meet up with old classmates after graduating from college.  Thanks guys!

The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury

Welcome to Mars, a magical world of ancient ruins like giant glass chess sets and canals of wine and sandy desert seas. A world inhabited by golden eyed people who can telepathically project hallucinations–some of them still live up in the hills. A desolate, empty world, the next frontier for a new generation of pioneering spirits, each with different dreams, different reasons, different goals and outlooks on their new life in the new world. Some come with respect and reverence to the ancient world, while others come to exploit it. But no matter why they come, everyone is deeply and profoundly changed. Some never return.

Ray Bradbury is one of the biggest names in science fiction, and this book is one of his greatest works. A lot of my friends really love Bradbury, but strangely, I haven’t read a lot of him (Fahrenheit 451, way back in Middle School, and a few essays, but that’s pretty much it). After putting this book down, all I can say is wow. Now I know what my friends were talking about.

The Martian Chronicles is more of a collection of short stories than anything else. That’s understandable, when you consider that science fiction began with short stories, not with novels. Keep that in mind as you read it, too. This is not a book you can read all in one go; you have to take time between the chapters to let each one soak in, otherwise your mind will just get overloaded. Bradbury delivers a bang! ending to just about every story in this book, and some of them are really deep. My favorite one was the one with Sender, and how the fourth rocket discovered that all the Martians were killed off by the chicken pox. There are some really profound ideas in that one, and I loved reading it.

A lot of hard sf purists tend to call Bradbury a writer of fantasy disguised as science fiction, and I can see where they’re coming from. There’s nothing really scientific about this book; the Mars of Bradbury’s stories is a purely fantastic invention (even for the 50s). I remember the story about the third rocket, and how it landed on a grassy green lawn, and all the crew stepped out and found themselves in a little Ohio town, and all I could think was “what??” It was very fantastic, very surreal and even trippy at parts, but once you get the hang of it, it’s not so bad. And really, I’d argue with the whole “Bradbury = fantasy” thing–I think some of the ideas in these stories definitely blur the line between fantasy and science fiction.

One thing Bradbury is fantastically good at is infusing all of his writing with passion. There wasn’t a moment in this whole book when I couldn’t envision Bradbury himself, his eyes wide and bloodshot, gripping me by the shoulders and shaking me. His imagery was amazing, and his twist endings were incredible. You really read Bradbury for his prose and for his ideas; everything else takes a back seat, but he does so well with the first two that that’s ok.

These are the kinds of stories that stick with you long after you’ve read them. They might not be consistent with each other or follow in a coherent, logical order, but they will deeply and profoundly move you.