Author Archives: mary

On the Brink

readfossillakeI am not, by nature, a party person.  My idea of a good time is more likely to involve a stack of comic books, a couple cats, my couch and a cold beer than a room full of chatty strangers.  Becoming a published writer has forced me to step outside my comfort zone, first for networking, now for promotion, but I’d always viewed it as a necessary evil rather than something I actually enjoyed.

My friend Marie Bilodeau is a multi-published author with six novels to her name, and I’ve been to the launch parties held for all of them.  When I made my first short story publications last year, I inquired whether there was anything like a novel launch for short story anthologies; whether I ought to consider gathering a few copies of the four print anthologies that feature one of my short stories, and throw a launch party.

I was thinking about reserving the back room in a pub, doing a couple readings, inviting everyone I knew who lived locally…  But Marie, social organizer extraordinaire that she is, thought a little bigger.

Using connections from her writer’s group, Marie got in touch with the organizers of Can-Con, the Conference for Canadian Content in Speculative Fiction.  She pitched the idea for the convention to help support new Speculative Fiction writers by holding a launch event for authors who’d just had their first few publications; in return, donations gathered at the event would go back to supporting the convention.  More than just getting my name out there and selling books, this event tied me in to the Speculative Fiction community in Ottawa, strengthening my connection with editors, media, other writers…the list goes on.

The end result was an event called On the Brink:  Can-Con Celebrates New SF Writers.  Two other writers, in addition to myself, would read from their short stories and sign books; we also had a guest speaker, Aurora Award nominated writer Matt Moore.   We held it in the Business Improvement Area where I work as an administrator—and yes, I got my “back room in a pub.”

The event was a big success!  We had doubled the expected turnout.  I sold a pile of books, not only to my friends and co-workers but also to a number of people in the local SF community; I even got new fans.  Reading from my stories was more fun than terrifying; it felt a lot like the dramatic monologues I used to do at drama club shows in university.   Best of all, the event’s success means that Can-Con is hoping to make it an annual event, building the relationship between the convention, writers both new and established, and the wider community of readers and fans.

Most of all, being packed into a crowded room of friends, strangers and casual acquaintances didn’t leave me wishing I could run for the door.  In fact, I actually had fun.  I’m looking forward to my next launch event, whenever that may be, and remembering that, while I might be an introvert by nature, being part of the SF community is one of the things I love about being a writer.

 

Meeting Goals with Health Challenges

 

“I haven’t done anything because I haven’t been feeling well.”  For some people, this is a convenient excuse for lack of productivity.  For others, particularly those with ongoing health challenges, it’s a fact of life that must be factored in to any schedule.

Writers are not one-size-fits-all.  For example, at Superstars Writing Seminars, I learned that some successful authors are plotters who outline meticulously, and others are “pantsers,” masters of “winging it” and discovering where the story takes them through the act of writing it.  Some authors accumulate word count slowly, day by day; others binge, setting aside blocks of time for intensive, exhaustive writing.  And similarly, writers come with different physical capabilities.

Some authors have health challenges that need to be dealt with.  These can be physical (ie repetitive strain injuries, neurological issues) or mental (ie depression, ADHD).  Having a health challenge does not mean you cannot be a writer.  It means you need to create a “game plan” that takes your specific needs into account.

It may mean you don’t produce as fast as someone else might.  I’m not going to lie – I’d be more productive without the sprained tendon that’s put a splint on my index finger for the past week.  I type more slowly as of late, and I type less–but by taking proper care of myself, I hope to be back writing normally again soon, rather than laid up with permanent damage.  I’d definitely be more productive without migraine-induced aphasia, and I’ve spent some time feeling sorry for myself.

In the end, though, given that “a writer without aphasia” isn’t an option for me:  what would I rather be?  A writer with fewer short stories written in a year’s time, or not a writer at all?

It’s an easy answer.

Ultimately, only you can be the judge of when you’re using your health as an excuse to avoid work, and when you’re legitimately too sick to work.  I’ve included below a list of points to think about that have proven helpful for me.

1.  Be proactive with your health.

For me, this means not forgetting to take my pills.  It means investing in an ergonomic keyboard and mouse and wearing protective armwear to minimize the risk of strain injuries.  It means resting my eyes regularly.  It means being aware of my posture.  It means not eating the foods that trigger my migraines.  I can’t make my health challenges go away, but I can do what is in my power to manage them, and I can take measures to prevent any more health challenges from developing.

2.  Know your limitations (aka “If I’m too sick to watch TV or read, I’m too sick to write”).  

If I don’t have the ability to passively follow a story and understand what’s happening, I don’t have the ability to actively create one.  Know what you are physically able to do, and don’t play martyred hero by trying to go above and beyond.  You’ll hurt yourself long term.  Or, in the words of Jimmy Buffett, “the well-seasoned pro knows how far he can go.”  If you’re not physically able right now, don’t beat yourself up – rest, so later, you will be.

3. If I’m not writing because I’m sick, I will willfully not be writing.  If I am writing, I will willfully be writing.  Either way, these are conscious and deliberate choices.

This is the difference between “I don’t feel able to write coherently, so I will spend the next hour looking at Tumblr / Facebook / Candy Crush / insert preferred entertainment here” and “oh hell where did the last hour go??  I was supposed to be writing!!”  The first is a conscious choice that you will not write; you will consume entertainment instead.  The second is a lack of discipline, focus, and/or time management.

There is nothing wrong with purposefully choosing to enjoy entertainments, particularly if you are unable to work and redirect the time for relaxation and recovery.  There is a problem if you can’t separate entertainment time from work time, or if your online goof-off time isn’t relaxing you.  Whether you choose to write on a given day or not, let it be a conscious choice.

I think I’ve had just as many times I’ve said “you know what, I’m feeling stronger.  I’m going to go write now” as times I’ve said “You know what, I’ve been here an hour, struggling, feeling more weak and more tired than ever.  I’m going to go rest instead.”  Either way, I’ve been aware of my body and my needs and made deliberate choices accordingly.

4.  Pushing myself for an arbitrary goal to the extent that it damages my health is counterproductive in the long term.

I know a lot of writers who do great by setting a minimum number of words to write each day.  I’m not one of them.  I tried it, and ended up sick within a month.  Why?  I pushed myself beyond my sustainable physical limits to meet those word count numbers, became overly fatigued, and ended up spending the better part of the next month too ill to write at all–or do much else, either.

I’ll burn the midnight oil to meet a story deadline or return a series of edits on time, but I won’t do so to meet an arbitrary number.  There are some days I cannot write, and I accept that.

So, how do I get anything done?

5.  I do my best work by prioritizing writing over entertainment on days I’m feeling well.

If I get up in the morning on a Saturday and I feel good, I don’t immediately turn on the Xbox or open up a comic book.  I get on the computer and write.  Once I’m mentally tired, I can enjoy video games or comics if I still have energy to do so.  If not, I go to bed knowing I’ve been productive.  This means I play a lot less Halo since becoming a published writer, but on the flip side, I’m a published writer.

I block off whole weekend days solely for writing.  If I’m feeling well, I can get a lot done in 12 focused, dedicated hours.  This system works well for me, so I use it.  If it doesn’t work for you, don’t use it.  Adapt to your needs.

6.  I will not write on days when editing what I’ve written will take more time and effort than just waiting to write on a day when I feel better.  I will rest and do necessary chores within my ability so when I do feel better, I can focus on my writing.

I have migraine-induced aphasia.  That means, when I’m experiencing a certain type of migraine, it damages my ability to use language.  I can think just fine, and I feel okay, but I can’t communicate properly.

Here’s a fantasy story about a horseman.  If I’m trying to write when I’m aphasic, I will produce sentences that look like this:

Jeogi did the one that uys the up to the house and made yt for to do go.

When I go back to edit, first I have to clean up the spelling:

Georgi did the one that was the up to the house and made it for to do go.

and then I have to figure out what the hell I meant by that sentence.  First, by replacing the words that aren’t the words I meant to use:

Georgi did the one that was the up to the horse and made it for to do go.

And then by replacing the phrases used to describe words my brain wouldn’t provide at the time:

Georgi climbed to the horse and spurred it…[idea of movement].

But there’s still incorrect and incomplete phrasing:

Georgi climbed onto the horse and spurred it forward into a trot.

There!  That’s a presentable sentence.

That’s also a lot of editing work.

Frankly, I get further ahead by waiting for a day when I’m capable of writing the sentence in under ten seconds, then working hard all day while aphasic and then putting in double time later deciphering and cleaning up what I wrote.  I’ll spend my aphasia day getting my laundry done, my house swept and a big pot of soup cooked.  This lets me spend my next good day writing, not doing housework.

The moral of this story?  Only you can judge your own limitations.  There are some people who tell writers to write every day, no matter what, but I bet those people have never seen what 5000 words of my aphasic English looks like.  Or maybe you can edit more quickly than I can, and writing those 5000 words of aphasic English are worth it for you.  Or maybe you outline on your off days, and write on your strong days.

You can’t lie to yourself.  With a little self-awareness, you’ll know whether “I couldn’t work because I didn’t feel well” is true or not.  If it’s not true, then you’re only cheating yourself.  But if it is true, you have nothing to be ashamed of – you’re doing your best within the scope of your abilities, which is all anyone can ask.

 

Warrior. Iconoclast. Unicorn.

botfUnicorn stories.  The topic seems geared towards wish-fulfillment for little girls, a more fantastical rendition of the “horsey” books so popular in the 1980s.  As a child I consumed mountains of these books, about both horses and unicorns, until I stumbled across a completely different animal:  Birth of the Firebringer by Meredith Ann Pierce.

This is not a story about what it’s like to ride a unicorn.  This is a story about what it’s like to be one.

From the first page I was catapulted into a world unlike any I’d ever imagined.  There are no human characters in this book.  The unicorns of the Vale are a people, a culture unto themselves (though notably not the only unicorn culture), and the narration is sprinkled with examples of their religion, their storytelling, their singing.  The main character, Jan, is torn between a desperate desire to win the good regard of his father the prince, and to follow his own heart, even when it conflicted with his people’s traditions and teachings.  This conflict leads him to question everything he was raised to believe:  about his faith, his people’s history, and his destiny.

These unicorns don’t lounge about in meadows waiting for beautiful maidens to happen by.  Their story is one of struggle:  driven from their homeland by the wyverns, they settled in a Vale across the Great Grass Plain.  As Birth of the Firebringer opens, their numbers have grown and they await the coming of the prophesized Firebringer, who will lead an army back to their ancestral lands to reclaim what is theirs.

Pierce layers the narrative with hints that the unicorns’ version of history might not be as true as Jan has been taught to believe.  The legends, for example, always describe the Vale as “empty” when the unicorns arrived.  Later, Jan will realize that the Vale was a hunting ground for the gryphon clans, and when the unicorns invaded and drove out the native game, the gryphons, as a people, suffered.  I still remember the shock of realizing, along with Jan, that the antagonistic gryphons might actually have a legitimate reason for the attacks they launched against the Vale–something beyond a thirst for cruelty.

firebringer1I was thunderstruck.  And I wanted to tell stories like that.  My play with My Little Ponies changed from saddles and bridles and combing hair into epic quests and wars against dragons, incorporating world-building, history and mythology, involving prophecy and politics and revelations.  Unicorns were serious business.  I no longer wanted to be a princess mounted on a unicorn.  I wanted to see a world through a unicorn’s eyes.

I was an adult before I realized that Birth of the Firebringer was in fact the first in a trilogy.  Dark Moon addresses the question of humanity, previously only hinted at in Firebringer — an alien and powerful species that sees the unicorns as fabulous beasts.  The Son of Summer Stars brings prophecies to fulfillment in a way no one imagined, and takes Jan from youth into adulthood.

The Firebringer Trilogy is classed as young adult fantasy, but reading the last two books as an adult, I have no reservations about recommending them to other adults.  The story remains powerful, and the language beautiful.  Pierce chooses words to enhance the conceit that the reader, along with Jan, is listening to a unicorn storyteller’s tale; and yet the tale remains easy-to-follow rather than getting bogged down by its own description.

If you’re ready to leave your humanity behind and take a look at the world from the point of view of a creature who is utterly unlike you – if you are ready to question your leaders, your faith, and your role in the world – if you are prepared to set aside the preconception that unicorns are fluff for little girls – then enter the world of Meredith Ann Pierce’s Firebringer Trilogy.

Writing Who You’re Not

                Two aliens walked into a bar.  “Greetings, Earthling,” they said to the bartender.  “Take us to your leader!”

                That was the point where Dar’xyl threw the book across the room.  “Human authors can’t write us worth scrap!”
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While I was studying for my Master’s degree in English, I sat through several classroom arguments to the effect of, “This (male) author can’t write realistic female characters;  this (female) author fetishizes gay men when she writes; this (Black) author shouldn’t write a book about Native Americans; no, wait, it’s okay when this Black author writes about Native Americans, but not when these White authors do.”  I left these classes wondering if I dared ever write about anyone who came from a culture, ethnic origin, religion, sexual orientation or any background and experience different from my own.

If I only wrote characters rooted in my own personal experience, all the people in my stories would be female, white, under 40, Canadian, and of German, English or Jewish heritage.  There would be no Asian people, no transgender people, no Muslim people, no elderly people, and no men.  The setting would always be late-twentieth or early-twenty-first century, Planet Earth.

I wouldn’t want to write in this world.  It’s got no relation to the world around me—it doesn’t feel real—and I’ve yet to think of a compelling and logical reason why it would be peopled only with characters whose experiences parallel my own.  In order to write a realistic, compelling world, you’ll probably have to create at least a few characters whose experiences are rooted in backgrounds you don’t share (unless you’re writing about, for example, an isolated village in China where everyone is probably Chinese; or a colony where a plague has killed all the men; or another scenario where minimal diversity is a critical component of the setting).

On the other hand, it’s one thing to make your character a different faith, gender, age or ethnicity, but another thing to write such a person realistically.  Oftentimes authors, sometimes unconsciously, fall into stereotypes when they try to write from a different point of view.  Take some time to do some research and understand what experiences, attitudes, and cultural values might shape such a person’s thinking and worldview.  Choose carefully what story you want to tell – is it a story best told by someone with personal experience?  For example, I’m comfortable writing a story with a gay male lead, but I’m not comfortable writing  a story about what it’s like to be a gay man in modern Canada.

Also understand that just because two characters come from the same religion/ethnic background/culture/etc., doesn’t mean their worldviews are going to be the same.  Losing an arm, for example, will be a different experience for the rich person who buys a cutting-edge prosthetic limb than it will be for the poor thief who now has to make a living with just one hand.  Being Black is going to be a different experience for the Black kid who’s the only Black person in her entire high school than it is for the Black kid who grows up surrounded by a community – and that community’s experience will differ depending on if it’s in 1990s Nova Scotia or 1960s Alabama.  Being Christian can run the gamut from Mother Teresa to the Westboro Baptist Church, and so on.

The best weapon in the writer’s arsenal is the ability to imagine and empathize with another’s point of view.  This was a challenge to me in a recent short story in which the main character is a religious leader, but his own belief is best described as agnostic.  I was tired of – yes, a stereotype, in which every character who is a religious leader is always either highly devout, or else utterly corrupt.  I wanted to create a character who wrestles with his faith, who tries to fulfill the duties of his job despite deep personal misgivings.

I’ve always been a strongly religious person, so I had to imagine:  what experiences made this person an atheist in his youth?  What experiences made him suspect that there might be a God after all?  Why did he choose his current faith over all the others?  Why is he still unsure that his God is real?  Writing this character helped me imagine an experience different from any I’ve ever had myself.

This is one of the great powers of fiction:  the ability to make the reader understand, empathize, and see the world through different eyes—to experience what it’s like to be someone else.  Sometimes that “someone else” is a person of a different gender, ethnicity, faith, age…the list goes on.  This power challenges the writer to provide a view that doesn’t simply reinforce cultural stereotypes.   And even though the story might be fiction, the understanding of how that point of view feels from inside, can linger long after the story is over.

*If you’re curious – you can meet Shaman Pasharan, Sigil of the Silver Future, in the upcoming EDGE anthology Tesseracts 18: Wrestling with Gods, in a story entitled “Burnt Offerings.”