Category Archives: Science Fiction

I went to a publishing conference in New York some years ago, and an agent said that a great author is a great storyteller. You can have all the craft and technique in the world, but if you aren’t a good storyteller, you won’t become a true success. Alternately, you can have the worst craft and know nothing of technique and be the next huge star of the publishing world. Yet, she could not define what made a good storyteller, like it’s some nebulous thing that cannot be truly understood. She was in the “you can’t learn it, you just have to be born with it” camp, a believer in which I am not.

But what is good storytelling if it’s not the expert use of craft and technique? I’ve been puzzling over it for years and I think I finally figured out a rather large component—a good storyteller is one who can tap into emotion with every word.

We humans, above all else, are creatures of emotion. We like to think we are creatures of intellect and reason and morality, but these things are constructs we’ve created to put limitations and controls over the nasty, hind-brain, instinctual animal side that is human emotion. Emotion motivates us in pretty much everything we do. Our desire to feel happiness, love, safety, pleasure all shape our choices. Our desire to not feel pain, sorrow, grief, all push us to move in a particular direction, even if it’s subconsciouly. Every choice we make is rooted in our emotional health, or lack thereof. Our need to feel one emotion over another.

The crazy thing is, everyone human being past, present, or future feels the same emotions. Emotion is the one, true universal language. It is the one thing we all as a species, share, and no emotion is more familiar to us all than fear. Writing our fear, more than any other emotion, can truly raise a writer’s prose to new heights.

There’s two ways of writing what frightens us, and both are equally beneficial. The first is the obvious definition—if we want our audience to fear something, start with what we, ourselves, are the most afraid of. J.K. Rowling once said that she decided to put giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest in Harry Potter and Chamber of Secrets because she herself was afraid of spiders. Similarly, Peter Jackson’s rendering of Shelob in the Return of the King was built off his personal arachnophobia. Think of it as a mind hack. It’s easier to write what we know, how we personally feel about a particular thing or situation when we write about something that makes us feel the emotion we want to invoke. It’s easy to make spiders terrifying if the author is terrified of the creepy bastards, but harder to make a horse frightening if they make the author all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be a monster. It can be a fear of rejection, a fear of success, a fear of fear itself. It’s making the fear personal that’s the key, no matter what genre or sub-genre we are writing. Every genre deals with some sort of fear, and the more we make that fear our own, the easier it is to make the reader feel it with us.

The second way of looking at writing what one fears isn’t so obvious, and it’s something we all face at one point or another. It’s taking on those scenes that make us cringe. You know those scenes, the ones that make us uncomfortable or leave us at a loss. Wether its fight scenes or sex scenes or scenes of moral uncertainty, we all have a scene somewhere that tempts us to just skip it and have it happen off screen. After all, the worst fear of any writer is that an important, necessary scene will suck and bring the whole piece down.

But nine times out of ten, that seemingly impossible scene will become one of the more powerful moments in a story. Dan Wells once said that a scene in I Am Not a Serial Killer, where the protagonist draws a knife on his mother, was an especially difficult scene to write, but the final product is one of the most emotionally impactful moments in the book. Alternately, I have a friend who kept skipping over scenes where people were fighting (verbally or physically) because he wasn’t comfortable with violence, but it left his work lacking conflict and the story suffered because of it.

Part of why this is so effective, I think, is that the struggle to get the scene written and fear that it won’t work makes us slow down and take a long, hard look at what we’re doing, much more so than a scene that just plops itself down on the page. Difficult scenes force us to pull out all the stops, to dig deep and give it our all, thereby forcing us to put our best work on the page because anything less would just prolong the torture. Also, fear is conflict, and whether it’s felt by the character or just subconsciously by the author, it puts an edge, an undercurrent in the scene that can lift it above simple prose. It’s always the scenes I didn’t want to write, the ones that kick my ass, that I always end up the most satisfied with, and I think it’s because of the fear. If I wasn’t afraid of what I was writing, the writing would not be as good. Period.

Use the fear, share it. It won’t be easy, but more likely than not, your readers will feel it, and what they feel is what will stay with the reader long after they finish the story.

Anthologies, Editing, and Wrestling with Gods

September 26, 2015

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Editing Mary Pletsch Science Fiction No Comments

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.

Con-parisons

September 11, 2015

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Conventions Fantasy Interacting With Fans Interacting With Professionals Lissa Woodbury Jensen Professional Behavior Science Fiction The Writing Life No Comments

A Gust A Guest Post by Lissa Woodbury Jensen

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“Mmmmm, apples are the best fruit on the planet,” my eleven year-old son announced one morning.

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“No way!” His twin brother gave him an incredulous look. “Bananas are waaaay better. Apples are boring, just like you!”

The fight was on and they disappeared, squealing, into the living room. I was left pondering my own preference for the tangy perfection of ruby red grapefruit.

I can’t help but remember their argument as I prepare to leave for Salt Lake City Comic Con in a few weeks. I have been to several different cons and am always amazed at how alike they are, and yet different at the same time. I find it intriguing to learn peoples’ preferences and to witness their declared vehemence toward one con or another. Like fruit, cons are generally born from the same ideation, yet vary in popularity from one attendee to the next.

Having lived in the Salt Lake area during my adolescent years, I enjoy attending SLCCC. I stay with family, renew friendships, and immerse myself into promoting my favorite publishing company, WordFire Press. I remember when I attended my first SLCCC. I had participated in smaller cons, but was ill prepared for the suffocating crush of fans, cosplayers, and celebrities that descended on SLC like an R-5 tornado.

Earlier in the summer, I had participated in both FantasyCon and WesterCon. WesterCon was civilized, organized and, at times, a bit “high-brow.” I sensed an elitism that made me uncomfortable. It was nicely done, though somewhat sterile in my opinion. As I moved from venue to venue, I felt insignificant and out of place. For me, it was an interesting, yet “empty” experience.

FantasyCon, on the other hand, was everything I could dream of for “my” perfect Con. It was passionate and artsy with spacious halls filled with enormous dragons (fake, of course), mythical creatures, fairy kingdoms and fire-wielding warriors. In spite of its magnificence, everyone kept saying how “slow” it was. I chalked it up to the Con being rather new on the scene. I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred it. The pace was leisurely and enjoyable. I had plenty of time to talk with other vendors, stroll through the eclectic displays, and soak in genius at every turn. The organizers outdid themselves in fantastical ambience.

Imagine the contrast when I arrived at SLCCC a month later and could barely navigate my way from one aisle to another. There were myriads of booths, vendors, panels, and special guests. One had to shout just to be heard in conversation. Long wait times to get a good seat for panels were inevitable. I will never forget the afternoons when I felt like the proverbial salmon trying to swim upstream, yet not moving at all. I stood in the aisle next to the booth I was working and felt crushed on all sides. It stayed that way for hours. I went home each night, dazed and bedraggled.

This past spring, I experienced the delightful WonderCon in Anaheim, California. It was busy, yet held enough space for one to meander through the displays without being pressed into a human pancake. There were booths galore, clever artwork, displays and entertainment. The ambience was fun and clever.

Of course, there are many more Cons, but I think I’ve illustrated my point. It is next to impossible to compare them. As with my twins’ apples and bananas, we all have different tastes and preferences. My boys still quarrel over which fruit is better. Con attendees will argue into the night over “which Con is best.”

There are small cons, medium cons, political cons, overseas cons, gaming cons, and the list goes on. Ask fellow writers and fans which con is their favorite and you will get a long list of different choices. In fact, therein lays the appeal. Fruit salad would be boring if it were all apple slices. One con would be the same as the next and the appeal of attending would be almost non-existent. Even the same con will vary from year to year.

This year’s WorldCon, which I had planned to attend, had a divisive agenda and set some important precedents. I doubt the organizers knew of its political importance when originally scheduling this con. In the end, I was unable to go but watched the proceedings with great interest.

SLCCC will be the first of many cons I attend this year and I eagerly await the opportunity for new adventures. As always, it is fun to compare each con because you never know what’s going to happen. I will always have my favorites, though.

Excuse me while I go have some grapefruit.

Guest Bio:

Lissa Woodbury Jensen lives in Alaska and loves imagining the impossible. Her initial career was in theatre arts. She did some filming in Los Angeles, but her primary love was the stage. In addition to performing, Lissa directed and choreographed many Broadway hits. She began her writing career by authoring short plays, dramatic presentations and original musical productions. She now concentrates solely on fiction. She loves to write about flawed characters that redeem themselves. Her favorite quote is from the movie Chariots of Fire: “God made me fast; and when I run, I feel His Pleasure!”

Gen Con: A Major Intersection of Interests

September 8, 2015

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Action & Adventure Conventions Fantasy Interacting With Fans Interacting With Professionals Networking Professional Behavior Science Fiction No Comments

Guest Post by Josh Vogt

I have long loved conventions for a variety of reasons, everything from meeting authors and artists I admire to gaining new career connections to developing my writing craft to pure entertainment. A lifelong reader and gamer, I simply can never get enough of fantasy and science fictions worlds, whatever format they’re presented in. I love the weird and wacky and wonderful—and conventions basically mainline all of that straight into my veins and brain. I come away from conventions, even the smallest, shortest ones, both exhausted and absolutely jazzed to jump back into the writing and storytelling because I went to get out there and bring my own form of weird and wonderful to the world.

That’s why Gen Con has quickly become what I think of as a cornerstone convention for the year. It’s touted as the “Best Four Days in Gaming,” and that’s no boast. I’ve only been a couple times now, but my hope is to continue going for as long as I’m capable of it. It is simply fulfilling on all fronts, giving me a well-rounded con experience as a reader, a writer, a gamer, and an unashamed geek in general.

You could likely spend the whole convention simply wandering the whole vendor floor without quite seeing everything there is to see—and likely come away with a few credit cards maxed, if you aren’t careful. I joke with some people who buy my books at cons that I take “cash, card, blood, first-born children, and souls,” but by the end of Gen Con, I’m the one considering shelling out a slice of damnation to bring home some particular artwork or another set of shiny dice. Then, of course, there’s the many games for sale, with countless demos being run from morning to night.

Oh, and did I mention the round-the-clock gaming schedule? Doesn’t matter whether you prefer dice, cards, board games, tabletop RPGs, minifigs, LARPing, video games (including VR rigs), or plain ol’ rock-paper-scissors…you’ll find it going on around every corner 24/7. You could sit and game from beginning to end without seeing any other part of the con, barely even leaving your table except for the occasional bite of food and bathroom break.

And then we get to the Writer’s Symposium. Admittedly, as an author, this is the primary reason I have come to love Gen Con. When you have dozens of authors getting together to run workshops, panels, and social shindigs into the wee hours, how can you not have an exhilarating experience? The amount of experience being shared is staggering, and everyone is there to both work hard and have an amazing time. Again, you could spend the whole weekend just attending Symposium events and not even get to the gaming! Each year, the Symposium has been streamlining its programming, has an amazing volunteer crew, and does its best to connect readers and aspiring writers with industry pros of all sorts.

It’s a magnificent mash-up of literary and gaming cultures, recognizing that we’re all in it to have fun, tell stories, create unique experiences, and cheer one another on through another year of learning and growth. Of course, we can still backstab each other during daring games of skullduggery or fight to the bitter end to get the high score during a dungeon run.

Is it crowded? Of course. Is it exhausting? You betcha. Logistically challenging at times, with travel and hotels and whatnot? Start prepping at least half a year in advance, if not earlier.

But in the end, while Gen Con can leave one feeling wrung out, it also leaves you raring for next year at the same time. It can connect you with people from all walks of life who share similar passions and pursuits, and remind you that whatever form of fun you prefer, you’ll always find a community of like-minded folks.

Hope to see you there sometime.

Website: GenCon 2016 Dates: 8/4-8/7

Guest Bio:

Writer. Freelancer. Unashamed geek. Josh splits his time between dreaming up new worlds and forms of magic and providing marketing/sales copy for clients. It’s sometimes difficult to know which requires more imagination.