Worldcon 2006

Well, I’m back in Provo and sneaking in a post between reading His Majesty’s Dragon and searching for a job. The trip to LA was incredibly successful. While I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as great as my delusions of grandeur may have suggested before the trip, I did meet several editors and a couple of agents and get to know the industry a whole lot better.

The most important meeting was, of course, with Moshe, Brandon’s editor. I thought it went very well. A group of us (the so-called Sanderson posse) cornered Moshe on the deck outside the TOR party and talked with him for a good two hours or more. I can proudly say I dominated the conversation with him for more than half that time.

As of Thursday, he hadn’t read Hero Kyros yet. But we discussed the plot and principle of the story and Moshe was interested in hearing about a few of my other projects as well. I can’t really speak for him as I am not, well, him, but I can give my impression.

He seemed impressed enough by my imagination and the work I put into my writing. I got the idea that he wanted to read my short story to see if I have the talent to back up said imagination before giving me a direct offer to send him a novel. But I also made it clear that I haven’t finished a novel yet, and I believe that the invitation to send him something when I finish it will come after he’s read Hero Kyros. Not to be over confident or anything.

In addition to Moshe, I also met an editor at Del-Ray, a staff editor at TOR and the editor of Pyr. It was a great experience. I didn’t get the chance to meet Brandon’s agent face to face, but I did get a card from another agent I was introduced to.

Return

I'm back from Worldcon. I have quite a bit in the way of good news. For now, I'll just say that I picked up His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik (I met her too) and it is fantastic so far. I also started reading Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson (His second book) and it is every bit as incredible a read as Elantris. I also picked up the last two years anthologies of Writers of the Future.

I'll tell about my meetings with editors and agents sometime in the next twenty-four hours.

News

Of the two SF magazines I've gotten so far, I've come to the conclusion that Analog is by far the better. I've enjoyed several of the stories in it, including that "Rollback" one I talked about a few posts back. They just tend to be a lot more fun, or at least take some sort of direction. Asimov's has yet to impress me. The stories have been dreary, haven't delivered a decent plot and have been downright unenjoyable. I hate to say it. But it's true. The moral of the story: order Analog.

I've been in communication with Brandon Sanderson the last few days. There's some exciting news on that account. It seems that his editor (an editor at TOR who will remain nameless because I've neither met him nor talked to him) is interested in reading "Hero Kyros." From what Brandon said, he mentioned my story and the editor latched on to the idea and wants to see if he likes the writing. According to Brandon, said editor is looking for new writers and, if he likes "Hero Kyros," may want to talk to me about a novelization of the concept. No promises or anything, but the possibilities are very exciting.

I have no idea when his editor will get around to reading it and I'm waiting to hear back from Brandon on whether the editor will be at Worldcon. It would be great if he reads it and then I get to meet him in two weeks. Even if he doesn't like it, getting some input from an editor at TOR would be fantastic.

Something Terribly Wrong.....

From what I know of it, the readership for the biggest SF and F magazines is down to around 17,000. Down from well over 100,000 in a previous and apparently more genre-glorious time. On the flip side, fifty percent of the new TV shows and movies to come out in the last year have been sci-fi or fantasy oriented.

There's something terribly wrong with this genre as literature. And I think I figured out what.

The first thing I read in that issue of Asimov's I referenced below was "Barbarian Confessions." As I said, very cool article and very accurate. Kristine Rusch tells us exactly why people don't want to read sci-fi anymore... because there is nothing cool to read.

I'm now a first hand witness to the atrocities commited by the publishers of these magazines. After "Barbarian Confessions," the first story was called "Sunlight or Rock." The writing was fantastic. The story was maybe a little thought-provoking. And it almost made me cancel the subscription to Asimov's that I didn't even pay for.

Have you ever dug through the bucket of chicken for the biggest chicken breast, getting covered in grease and little flecks of fried whatsit and finally found the whopper, the big chicken breast at the very bottom and when you sunk your teeth into it, it turned out to be nothing but bone, cartlidge and fried skin and fat?

I've read three stories in Asimov's so far. All three have been that big, fat, unfulfilling chicken breast.

It's been about four years since I've been a really voracious reader. In my mid teens I was a recluse and a geek and I read everything I could get my hands on. Mostly novels, and mostly fantasy novels from the 80's. "Barbarian Confessions" was a great article when I read it. But now that I've read three stories from THE SAME MAGAZINE that published "Barbarian Confessions," I've seen the horrible, ironic truth of the matter.

Sci-fi has sold out the the literary community. And has been sold out for some time. It's making all of us, readers and writers of genre fiction alike, suffer for it.

I said above that they aren't publishing anything cool to read. "Sunlight or Rock" dropped me into a fascinating futuristic world with politics and spanish harlem sort of ghettos and a world gone rampantly mad. And then the author didn't do anything with it. There was a futuristic horse race or something that the main character was betting on, but I'm not even sure what, because I had lost all interest at that point and was just hoping for some closure. The author broke the cardinal rule of writers that Scott Card pounded into us so much this summer: Deliver what you promise. He promised me a cool world with an involved plot. He didn't develop any of his introduced characters and had me hoping that the main character would end up dead pretty quick.

If I had gotten that submission at Leading Edge, where we cater to a readership of about 200, then I would have written, "Great writing, but it needs a real plot" and sent it back to the guy without bothering to push it up the slush pile to the second round of editing.

Sci-fi sold out to the literary community. They are more concerned by flowery languange than a real, interesting plot. When I read the first three stories in Asimov's, I found myself not traversing worlds or rocketing forward on an adventure, but tossed into three different characters' personal, hallucinatic hells. It's like watching the absolute worst episode of Twilight Zone over and over again. Some people like it, and it's cool the first few times. But it won't hold up against a jury of readers.

That's what is wrong with the genre as a literature.

Thoughts on SF/F

“Science Fiction… is not producing novels that a large group of people want to read. And that spells the death knell for the literary genre at a time when, ironically, interest in SF is expanding.”
-from “Barbarian Confessions” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch. Appears in the September 2006 issue of Asimovs.

You may have guessed that I received my Asmiovs in the mail. One of the first things in it is an article on the disintegration of the Science Fiction and Fantasy genre in literature. The article was fascinating and depressing.

The author begins with the discussion of whether tie-in novels and novelizations of movies like Star Wars, which take up such a huge section of the F and SF shelves in any bookstore, are “stealing” the space. The answer: absolutely not. The reason: this is what people want to read.

It’s not the tie-ins that people want to read, precisely, but the way they are written. It’s the old style of writing that has vanished in the science fiction community over the years: happy endings, noble heroes and adventurous plots. Fantasy still has all these things, even if the novel length is far too stretched out for many readers.

I’ve had similar thoughts over the last couple years myself. Nothing so in depth, obviously, but I’ve tried to gear my writing towards those things. I’m a sucker for the traditional hero and the triumphant ending. But I also realize that plots have to move faster when writing for today’s audience, because the world moves faster in visible media.

SF is still depending on the style developed over the last few decades. Tortured protagonists, plotlines with naught a victory to be found, and villains or unbeatable viruses or crazy computer programs that end up winning in the end.

People don’t want to see that. We found that out with the third Matrix movie. Too much symbolism, too much inner pain and too much self sacrifice. People want all these things. But they want it in a way that the third Lord of the Rings movie gave it to us… the good guys win, hands down, and we as the viewers/ readers, have a lot of fun along the way. Besides the really cool fight scenes, nobody had a whole lot of fun with Matrix Revolution.

When writing a book, people are investing a lot more than two or three hours, which means the entertainment has to flow. So that’s my goal. That’s my business. Entertainment. I’d be kidding myself if I thought it was anything but.

The Continuing Saga of Thomas Peachtree

Excerpt from volume III, chapter IX

We were passing through the Lionheart Mountains in mid autumn when we were hit by an early blizzard. It took us unsuspecting and we were lucky to find a deep cave to take sanctuary in during the snowy onslaught. Our barbarian, Bill, hugged the startled bear whose home we had invaded and broke its back, supplying us with some foul but edible meat for the week.

Markon suspected the storm to be wizardry, as he usually did; Bill slept for four days; and Thomas happily roasted shoe-sized spiders on the end of a stick in our small fire. He offered me a bit, but I preferred my rations of stale bread and bear meat.

It was to be my second winter in Thomas’ strange and oft-varying company of adventurers. The Knight had left us in early summer to ride south around the mountains and pillage a maiden or two while Antwon had been held up in Treemont by a streak of luck throwing dice with some young noblemen.

“Damned wizards,” Markon muttered on the fifth day, squinting at the fire. “Damned salty wizards.”

Thomas took a bite of spider with a soft crunching sound and chewed slowly, his eyes focused on something beyond the gloom. “Nah, not wizards. I’d know if it were wizards,” he said. He took another bite. “Just our bad luck.”

Markon sighed and stood up, stumbling off to try and wake up Bill.

I turned to Thomas. “Where do you find these people?” The smell of burnt spider hair was starting to annoy me, and I had been meaning to criticize Thomas’ choice of cohorts for some time.

“Hmm?”

I gestured deeper into the cave, where soft snoring could be heard intermittently with the dull thud of a boot hitting a rock-hard stomach. The snoring continued steadily.

“Ah,” Thomas said. “These guys are great, aren’t they?”

I nodded hesitantly. I wasn’t sure how readily I’d agree with him on normal, everyday circumstances, but the barbarian was certainly handy for a troupe of adventurers. “They’re so… strange.”

“They come to me, or I to them,” Thomas said. “I’m very selective about the company I keep. Despite what you may think of them.”

I stifled a sarcastic laugh. I wasn’t one to consider the people we continued on with as ‘company’ per se, but more like temporary companions. Hopefully. I had gotten down right sick of the Knight’s sense of lecherous nobility and his damned good looks. Salty good looks, as Markon would say.

Thomas shot me a look and pulled out a pipe. He took a deep breath while he thumbed the bowl full of sweet smelling tobacco and I could practically feel his quiet amusement.

“See, you have to understand something,” Thomas said. He paused for a moment and snapped his fingers three, four times before his thumbnail produced a small flame for him to light the pipe. Shaking the flame out, he took a long pull and exhaled before going on.

“Friends are the most important thing you’re going to have in this life. Family might have been, but you’re an fortune-hunter— not one to sit still for any length of time. Much like myself, and the men we take company with. You may look at Bill or Markon and think little of them. Bill is the strongest man I’ve ever met, save for a woodsman I saw uproot a hickory with his bare hands once. Markon can take apart any contraption and put it back together again with his eyes closed.”

“But their physical aspects aren’t the most valuable to have around. The men I keep company with are of the highest caliber.” He held up a hand to forestall any comment I may have had. “They are loyal to the end. Not stupidly loyal. They aren’t my minions or any sort of nonsense like that. But they will come when needed or when they want and leave when they tire of each other’s company. They are free men in mind, body and spirit and we all owe each other nothing and everything.”

He pulled his pipe out the corner of his mouth and pointed it at me. “Don’t scorn true friendship, however strange it may be. A friend— a real friend— is more valuable than all the treasures in all the kingdoms in the world.” He paused and sniffed, looking up into the gloom again. “It’s up there in value with an intelligent, beautiful wench at your side.” Sighing wistfully, he stood up. “The storm has spent itself and moved on. Bill, come move the rocks away from the entrance.”

The snoring stopped immediately. A few groans later and the barbarian and Markon appeared in the firelight. Bill walked to the cave entrance and smashed at it with his great axe until the rubble was cleared and light streamed inside.

Thomas walked a few feet into the waist-deep snow. Taking a breath of smoke from his pipe, he blew it out in a thick cloud and drew his fingers over it a few times. His brow furrowed.

“We have to turn back,” he said after several long moments.

“Why?” I asked.

A wry smile touched his lips. “Antwon won a few too many rolls of the dice. They’re going to hang him in a week.”

The barbarian rumbled deep in his throat and began to stride into the snow. The fact that it quickly grew as deep as his chest didn’t bother him. Thomas called after him.

“That way,” he said, indicating the direction from which we had come. Bill stopped, turned plowed forward. Thomas shrugged. “Get the gear. We’ll catch up to him tonight.”

Update

Many of you are probably checking back infrequently, quickly losing faith in my ability to produce. Well don't worry. Your fears are well grounded. I'm doing a whole lot of not writing lately. Lots of day dreaming, a lot of reading, but not writing. I have a few personal things that are getting in the way and taking up my time and they are being striven against. But now, an update:

I'm making some serious changes to "The Envoy." For one, I'm taking out the Diadem (feline aliens) and replacing them with the Bordeaux Monks; a mysterious group of telepathics who have gradually taken over a sector of space and now are having trouble with a creature beyond their abilities to deal with. Have no fear, the Diadem will doubtless show up in something else of mine.

I recently received and started reading issues of Analog and Asimovs. "Rollback" in Analog was really quite cool (the October 2006 issue) and I'm looking forward to the next installments as it is only part one in a series. "Envoy" will probably be geared for either Analog or Asimovs, as it might end up a little longer than 17,000 words, and I've decided to actually get into the science of the man who is the Envoy. Not too deep, but a bit.

I'll be returning to Provo, Utah, in eighteen days. From Provo I will head with Brandon Sanderson and many other great people down to Worldcon in LA. It promises to be a fantastic experience. By the 28th of August I'll be back in Provo and settling down to begin my junior year of college. I'm looking to get a job in the writing lab at BYU, because I think I'm qualified by now. At BYU I'll be taking a class in which the only requirement for the semester is to write a novel or novella. That will be fantastic.

I may be starting anew soon on two of my old projects. The first is "Knights Fidelis" and the second is "Aquilo." I'll update as I get the chance to get back to them.