Category Archives: The Writing Process

Liana K and Jerome Stueart are the editors of Tesseracts 18: Wrestling with Gods and the people I have to thank for selecting my story “Burnt Offerings” for publication in the anthology. I’ve written previously (link) about my contribution, but recently I had a chance to ask a few questions of the editors themselves. I asked about how editors select stories out of the slush, what an editor’s job is like and what it means to Wrestle with Gods in speculative fiction stories.

Of all the possible themes for an anthology, why did you pick religion, faith and speculative fiction? What do you think speculative fiction can tell us about faith (and perhaps vice versa)?

LK: The great thing about speculative fiction is that it can create distance between our reality and a fictional one. This allows us to examine things like religion without everyone involved freaking out.

What can it tell us about faith? I think the book shows it can tell us many things. Too numerous to list here!

JS: Personal beliefs make great strong characters, and cultural beliefs that may clash with personal beliefs–that’s good prime tension. Religions ask big questions too— is there more than this life? Are there others out in the universe? How did we get here? What’s our purpose? Science Fiction asks those same big questions–and their answers are often just as profound and interesting–but I think there’s a special intersection that religion and science fiction has where you can stand and look down both streets. Spec fiction lets us talk about faith in a very non-confrontational way, too–certainly a more interesting way. We don’t have to get caught up in the trappings of our own faiths and religions here to talk about “belief” and about “faith”. We don’t have to say Rabbi or cross or bodhisattva–or Judaism, Christianity and Buddhism–but we can use a parable, of sorts, to talk about the ideas behind faith. Sneak behind our biases and prejudices. The alternate world allows us to examine faith in a way that doesn’t feel like we’re breaking any vows or betraying any of our gods.

Many of our readers at The Fictorians are hopeful authors or new authors. Could you tell us about your process for choosing which stories you want to select for an anthology such as Wrestling with Gods? I’m sure those readers would appreciate some advice as they edit their work for submission. What makes a story “stand out” to you?

LK: For this anthology, there had to be something about it that felt alive to me. We were really lucky in that there was a lot of overlap in what Jerome and I thought had that indescribable quality. Many authors haven’t found their unique voice yet, so they copy styles and concepts. That’s great for a spec script, but not for something like this.

In the case of this book, we were also looking for an insider perspective, not some outsiders saying “what a strange people”.

Some stories didn’t get selected just because they didn’t follow the guidelines. Simple things like word count, or the submission deadline. If you’re a hundred words over, no biggie. If you submit something that’s double the word count, that’s really pushing your luck.

JS: When I pick up a good story, I am with a great character doing something interesting immediately, absorbed in his or her world, seeing specific things that lead me to a dilemma quickly–usually within the first paragraph, certainly within the first page. Confident, vivid language and a unique character I can know and empathize with quickly are also telltale signs that I can sit back comfortably and go where the author wants me to go. On the other hand, characters that are not actors in their worlds, who make me have to follow long monologues in their heads, who give me nothing to see, who talk vaguely about their lives, or who drive endlessly while they think—these are stories that I can lay aside. That’s just me. But every one of the stories in Wrestling With Gods fought for their space and earned it with me.

I’ve had readers tell me that they were pleasantly surprised to discover that Wrestling with Gods wasn’t biased for or against religion, or favouring any one faith in particular. The previous question was about how to make an individual story stronger, so for this question, can you tell our readers more about how you “craft” an anthology–the skill set of being an editor and selecting the right stories from the slush? It’s something I’ve not yet done. What do you do to make an anthology the strongest it can possibly be?

LK: Well again, we had it easy in that there are so many religions that deserved representation. And the poetry was so strong!

Once we had our choices, I tried to divide the book into acts, using those poems as breaths. Long stories were separated by shorter ones for pace as well.

We started with the Christian stories because they’d be the most familiar faith to most people. And Mecha-Jesus is just so fun that we thought it was a good introduction, especially since it contained Shintoism as well. Rob Sawyer’s story then provided a balance, because it’s so haunting at the end.

That was our basic step. That pattern replicates throughout the book. I tried to arrange the stories so that there’s a journey for the reader with a crossover to something greater as the final act.

JS: Pick good stories first. I think we both made a pact to do that. I don’t think about “anthology” or “balance” or ANYTHING at the beginning. I’m in the greatest store on earth and I get to pick up anything I like–and so I choose what I enjoy and what I love first. (I’ll mark a maybe, or a “come-back-to-it-later”, but sometimes you go with the stories that grab you.) So, first Pick What You Love. If I fill an anthology with stories I feel passionate about, then I can defend my choices. I don’t add in a story for a fictionalized reader in my head who might like paranormal romances…. if I don’t like the story, I don’t feel like I can put it in.

Once you get the sixty or so short stories that are rockin’ this world, then you have to make some tough choices and, if you are working with a brilliant co-editor who is on your wave-length (and I was lucky, very lucky), she will validate your passions and will also help you discern the ones that are good stories but that may not be AS good as others.

Then when you get the 25-30 selections, you balance them in a readable pattern. I think Liana did a great job of creating for the anthology a reading experience where stories may have opposite effects on you, but have some link next to each other. Each story and poem was linked to the ones beside them so it would seem, perhaps, that you were deep in a conversation about faith (or about heavy metal tattoo artists, or about space exploration…)

Is there anything else you’d like to tell our readers, either about writing in general or Wrestling with Gods in particular?

LK: Just because a story isn’t good for a particular book doesn’t mean it’s not good. Write to write. If you’re willing to constantly hone your craft, your time will come.

About Wrestling With Gods, obviously I want people to read the book!

JS: Don’t be shy about dealing with faith or religion in science fiction or fantasy. I think it leads to some greater character depth. You design characters with inner tension, right? Well, there’s no tension like cultural or societal tension rooted in a belief system that the character has either bought into and believes, or has felt abandoned by, or has abandoned. His/her worldview can emerge from this lost/deeply held belief system—and it is never, never, never a clunky cut-and-paste stereotype of “faith”. Faith is the amalgam of our experiences and our beliefs together–and we trim our memories of experiences to match our beliefs (Uncle John would never have done that–so I’m not going to think he did) or trim our faiths to match our experiences (Uncle John sold his son to the Traders. I thought our family had morals.) Every person is unique; every belief emphasizes a bit more of this and a bit less of this because that worked for me and this didn’t. So cool characters can emerge from turning points and disappointments and miracles in their spiritual journey that is lockstep with their physical journey. We craft our faiths, just as we are crafted by them.

You can get your own copy of Wrestling with Gods in digital or print format from Amazon or Indigo/Chapters.

It Inspired Me

August 31, 2015

Evan Braun

Critiques Evan Braun Interacting With Professionals Networking Professional Behavior No Comments

Another month has come and gone, another month of varied posts from varied writers. I knew well in advance how this month’s theme would impact me—spoiler alert: it inspired me—which is a large part of why I proposed it in the first place. The simple truth is that when writers work alone, they usually fail. Or burn out. And when it looks like writers are going it alone, they probably aren’t.

As per usual when a month wraps up, I wanted to provide both a retrospective and quick index of our recent posts. I encourage you to take some time to dig through these. There are some real gems! Some highlights for me include Travis Heermann’s and Nathan Barra’s dueling examinations of critique groups and the benefits they offer (and how bad critique groups can be escaped/troubleshooted), and Kristin Luna’s post about reader reviews probably hit close to home for a lot of us.

Evan Braun—We All Live in Community
Guy Anthony de Marco—Collectives Collecting Collectible Creatives
Rachel Ann Nunes—Is Google Play Going Crazy or Is Fate Finally Smiling on Me?
Sherry Peters—My Peeps. My Tribe.
Kristin Luna—You Are Not Alone: One-Star Reviews for Everyone!
Evan Braun—Post 1000: How on Earth Did We Get Here?
Colette Black—Growing Community
Leigh Galbreath—This Ain’t No Fortress of Solitude
Frank Morin—What Goes Around
Kim May—Help! I’ve Written Myself into a Corner and I Can’t Get Out
Jace Killan—How to Tribe
Nathan Barra—Getting the Most Out of Group
Ace Jordyn—Turning Milestones into Stepping Stones: Why Accountability Groups Work
Scott Eder—Travelling in Packs: Partnering with Multiple Authors at Cons
Petra Klarbrunn—The Importance of Author Mentors
Mary Pletsch—Your Support Net(Work)
Travis Heermann—The Critique Group Waltz: Is Yours in Step?
Brandon Plaster—Community
Gregory D. Little—A Little Healthy Envy

Come back tomorrow for an extended look at our con experiences. Take it away, Scott Eder!

Evan Braun is an author and editor who has been writing books for more than ten years. He is the author of The Watchers Chronicle, whose third volume, The Law of Radiance, has just been released. He specializes in both hard and soft science fiction and lives in the vicinity of Winnipeg, Manitoba.

Community

August 27, 2015

fictorians

Guest Posts The Writing Life The Writing Process No Comments

A guest post by Brandon Plaster.

Lenalia Like many writers, I was caffeinated in a not-so-counter-culture coffee shop the day that I became serious about writing. It’s not that I knew what I was writing at the time, or that there was anything special about the day, mayhaps a Saturday. It was just that I felt the threads of productivity resonating and for whatever reason my stream of conscious was somewhere completely dislocated from my body, having some sort of wild acid-free paper trip. That trip just happened to be perfectly timed.

Co-occuringly, assembling in the minds of several well-placed strangers was the idea of forming a writing meetup. This coalignment of events, seemingly disparate, was what brought about the makings of my first book, Lenalia.

When I attended that first writing session with twitchy eyes and torpid creativity, I had no idea how important the group would become to me. I went in selfish and simple, thinking that it would be a way for me to write consistently and receive critique. Though I certainly cannot undervalue those two benefits of the group, as feedback and consistency are key, the community was so much more.

I spent close to two years attending and helping lead the weekly meetup. The constant flux of its peripheral members allowed for me to experience a plethora of writing styles and techniques while the persistence of its core members gave me insights into how writers evolve their work and themselves over time. My critiques not only allowed me to help others, but it showed me how to analyze story and characters separate from prose. My writing went from playdough to playful, from full of errors to airless and concise. In every interaction I had with the group was another piece of stimuli that helped shape my work and myself.

And those were just the direct benefits. It turns out, the group was full of people. Living, breathing, unique, some odd, mostly even people. People that were striving and struggling through the same writer’s block or character collapse as me. Seasoned and raw writers that helped form a support network, making me realize that writing doesn’t have to be a solitary sport.

So now, even when alone, as I sit sipping on the brewed aromas of a midnight latte, my body withering into the dust that sifts through the hourglass of my life, I can rekindle thoughts of my first community, knowing that it helped define me as a writer.

Guest Writer Bio: BrandonPlaster

Brandon Plaster is an engineer and artist with a passion for storytelling. He is focused on creating media and mediums that engage, entertain, and challenge wide audiences. With a background in Applied Mathematics and Optics, Brandon worked for three years in the space industry on computer graphics, robotics, and radio communication system design, before redirecting his focus to creative human-centered computing.In March, 2015, he released his debut novel, Lenalia.

The Critique Group Waltz: Is Yours in Step?

August 26, 2015

Travis Heermann

Craft & Skills Critiques Goals Interacting With Professionals Making Progress as a Writer Networking Self-Awareness Starting a Career The Writing Life The Writing Process 3 Comments

Having been approaching this Real Fiction Writer gig for something like 25 years, from fits and starts in the early days to the full-time efforts nowadays, I have considerable experience with in-person critique groups. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. There’s almost always some value, but is that overshadowed by hidden “costs”?

Critique groups have infinite permutations out there: genre, format, frequency, membership, etc. But something for new writers to keep in mind—easy to lose track of this in their exultant joy or fear that they won’t be able to find any other group—you are there to serve your writing.

You are there because you want something. Before you join, you should be clear about your goals and aspirations. After you’ve joined, reflect often on whether the group is serving your needs.

Critique groups are great for:

Helping fix problems with stories and novels
Exchanging industry news and opportunities
Increasing your writing skills
Camaraderie, community, and mental health

Benefits of Critique Groups (and their evil flip-sides)

“We meet on the fourth Tuesdays of odd-numbered months at 6 a.m. under the bridge. Bring your whole novel.”

The first criteria for determining whether a critique group is right for you is when it meets. The less easy, regular, and accessible its meeting times, the less useful it’s likely to be. I’ve tried groups that meet once a month or less, and they’re just not as useful, especially when I’m writing at a pace that a career demands. If your stuff only comes up for critique once every two or three months, ask yourself if that’s really enough for you.

Does the group format allows critiques of what you’re bringing?
Does the group meet often enough to form a cohesive unit? Too seldom? Too frequently?
Is the location conducive to a safe, open atmosphere?
What is the balance of give and take? If you have to contribute critiques on 80k words before you get to submit a single novel chapter, is that really worth your time?

Chicken Soup for the Bedraggled, Desperate, Down-trodden Writer’s Soul

Critique groups can be a great place to receive encouragement and support from fellow bedraggled, desperate, down-trodden writers. Finding your tribe for the first time can be an enormously valuable, uplifting experience. Cultivating them as friends and colleagues can reap benefits down the road as group members make some sales and advance their careers.

However, except for an infinitesimal, lightning-struck handful of the Anointed, a writing career can be best described as The Long Slog, and not everyone handles the daily reality of that with equal aplomb. Like a romantic relationship gone bad, your formerly brilliant group can devolve into a great seething swamp of bedraggled, down-trodden desperation—and suck you down with it. Jealously, resentment, and animosity can emerge in critiques, sometimes so subtly and unexpectedly that you don’t see it at first. Critiques should be honest, but also respectful and tactful. They should critique the work, not the writer. Group meetings should be a safe place for the exchange of ideas, supportive and constructive. You get enough emotional abuse from the rejection process without putting up with poison in a group of colleagues.

Balancing the Balance

One of the keys to a good critique group is that everyone should be at comparable levels of skill/career. However, that doesn’t mean you all have the same skill sets. In one of my current critique groups (I’m actually a member of two groups), two members are copyediting/language clarity vipers, another a gunslinging history expert, another with a fight choreographer’s eyes for the movement of a scene, and another with a firm grasp of a scene’s emotional landscape. This is the nature of an awesome critique group. (This group was a tremendous help in reviewing a rough early draft of Spirit of the Ronin.) Balance, Grasshopper.

However, while a broad array of skill sets is valuable, a broad disparity in skill level is not. When a group is newly formed or a new member comes in, balance can be thrown off. The give and take, the flow of feedback, needs to be roughly equal.

It can be extremely frustrating for a writer with more advanced skills and experience to critique the work of less experienced one, because she could, if she chose, pour hours of feedback into a short story where she can see the innumerable grammatical errors, punctuation problems, scene construction problems, clichés, incomprehensible plotting, false starts—the entire host of regrettable, understandable, and yet rankling newbie mistakes laid out before her like the vastness of the sea. Soon realizing this, she will wonder why, when she has insufficient time to write for herself, she’s spending so much time critiquing someone whose skills are still in the early stages. And the kind of critique that she needs—theme, rhythm, structure, nuance—is often beyond the newbie writer’s critique capabilities.

The flip-side of this for the newer writer is that the advanced writer is giving feedback that he doesn’t know how to use. He gets a manuscript back that looks dipped in the blood of a thousand red pens. And his spirit is crushed.

Building Skills Together

Another argument for joining a group of roughly similar level is that critiquing builds writing skills. It’s basic pedagogy in teaching English composition, and it’s a mainstay of the Odyssey Writing Workshop, of which I am an alumnus. Critique groups can expose your own unique writerly tics—over-description, overuse of “that” or “-ly” adverbs, underuse of plot logic—and help you fix them. Finding problems in the manuscripts of others teaches you how to find them in yours.

No one can critique to a higher level than their own set of skills. Some of the feedback from less advanced writers will be useful—all reader response is useful in some way—but in the end, the more advanced writer will be getting far less in the exchange, and the newer writer may get her manuscript bled upon with a red pen in ways that are unhelpful.

A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats

If you look deep enough, the literary world is filled with critique groups, pockets of famous writers who critique each other. George R.R. Martin, for example, is part of a long-time writers’ group that has been together for many years, and all of them are accomplished novelists. Such pockets exist everywhere, at all levels. If a group works well and remains together over years and decades, there are tremendous opportunities for members to help one another along this most difficult of creative paths. Promoting each other’s books, sharing industry information like anthology calls for submission, and “so-and-so talked to this editor who said…”

You likely won’t be able to join one of those pockets, but you just might become part of your own illustrious literary pocket.

Groups stay together because there is something about them that works for each member. Friendship, feedback, helping spackle over plot holes, giving triage to characters dying of two-dimensionality, and having some folks to thank on the Acknowledgements page of your bestselling novel. Those are the benefits.

Again, reflect on your needs and goals from a critique group and evaluate whether your group is meeting your needs. If you don’t feel like these are anywhere in sight, it might be time to move on. Or form a new group on your own.

About the Author: Travis Heermann

Travis Heermann’s latest novel Spirit of the Ronin, was published in June, 2015.

Freelance writer, novelist, award-winning screenwriter, editor, poker player, poet, biker, roustabout, he is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop and the author of Death Wind, The Ronin Trilogy, The Wild Boys, and Rogues of the Black Fury, plus short fiction pieces in anthologies and magazines such as Perihelion SF, Fiction River, Historical Lovecraft, and Cemetery Dance’s Shivers VII. As a freelance writer, he has produced a metric ton of role-playing game work both in print and online, including content for the Firefly Roleplaying Game, Legend of Five Rings, d20 System, and EVE Online.

He lives in New Zealand with a couple of lovely ladies and a burning desire to claim Hobbiton as his own.

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