Swords Against Boredom

I don’t write a lot of science fiction, because my attempts are seldom any good.

Every now and then, though, I hit what seems to be the right note. I got one good result lately, in a near-future story called “Ratings Wars.” The story involves a military-themed reality TV show and some cool high-tech gear. I was happy with the result, and the story is under review at a magazine now.

Then I heard Paul Harvey on the radio and realized I need to revise the story a bit. Why? Because of the ever-changing technology curve — real technology moves so fast these days that my science fiction has a tough time keeping up.

Here’s the case in point: My super-soldier character Snort uses high-tech textiles as part of his arsenal. He parachutes from an ungodly height into an enemy camp, dropping at high speed and eventually slowing his descent with rockets. The idea is to hit the ground so fast an enemy has little chance of reacting. Once Snort hits the ground, his parachute fabric and cords dissolve instantly — freeing him to start moving and leaving little trace of his arrival. I think that’s really, really cool.

But now, Paul Harvey reports that elite U.S. paratroopers soon will be fitted with carbon-fiber wings that will allow them to glide up to 124 miles before deploying their parachutes. Remember the wings Christian Bale used as The Batman? Combine that with a little GPS guidance and you’ve got warriors who can drop in on the enemy virtually undetected. The planes that carry these guys won’t have to go anywhere near the target spot.

That’s so cool it makes my head hurt. I still like my dissolving parachute, but now I want Snort outfitted with a pair of those cool wings. Without them, Snort seems a tad behind the times.

If the magazine looking at “Ratings Wars” decides to buy it, I’ll ask if I can revise it a bit before publication. If the magazine rejects it, I’ll revise before submitting it elsewhere. And here I thought that story was finished … sheesh.

See why it’s important for a fiction writer to keep up with the real world?

– Steve

I took a “beer personality” test online and got the following results. There’s a link at the bottom if you want to try it:

You Are Guinness

You know beer well, and you’ll only drink the best beers in the world. Watered down beers disgust you, as do the people who drink them. When you drink, you tend to become a bit of a know it all - especially about subjects you don’t know well. But your friends tolerate your drunken ways, because you introduce them to the best beers around.

I have been trying to meditate more often, in the wee hours. It’s a response to daily irritations and frustrations that really seems to help.

Of course, one of the daily irritations is being unable to find time to meditate. Sheesh …

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Thought I’d share a nice review of one of my stories. The review, by Robert J. Santa, appeared recently in the “Firebrand Fiction” column at SFReader.com. Rob is a talented writer himself, so I doubly appreciate his thoughts.

Here’s an excerpt from his review of “The Grey Mother,” which appears in the current issue of “Flashing Swords” zine:

This piece featured Calthus, a recurring character to Flashing Swords. With his warrior’s perspective, grasses are not merely waving but “saw-sharp” and “stood like sharp pikes planted in the ground.” Calthus is all anticipatory deadliness, and the fight with a pack of wolves is described in a simplicity of style that is difficult to master, evident throughout the entire piece. Where some might linger on how the day began with a gentle tinting of the once-black sky and the quietude of the birds not yet awakened by the dawn, Goble writes “Morning came, breezeless.” Other writers, this one included, are envious of his talent.

What writer wouldn’t be happy with a review like that?

Rob also pointed out that the story title has the spelling “gray,” whereas the story itself uses “grey.” Well, the title was “The Grey Mother” when I submitted it, but got changed in the process of publication. No big deal. The editor probably knows, like I do, that “gray” is the preferred American spelling. He changed it in the title, possibly by accident when typing it. I used “grey” knowing it was not the preferred form, but also knowing that I just like it that way. And it’s my story, so there.

In the review, Rob shares some thoughts on the diversity of fantasy fiction. He does so through the excellent technique of comparing two vastly different magazines. I found the entire review well worth reading, and recommend it to you.

I spent the wee hours critiquing a really good sword-and-sorcery story by my friend Tom. It had a cool character, a cool premise that could lead to further adventures, some great prose.

He plans to start shipping it to editors soon. When he does, his fine story will land in a gigantic heaping pile of yuck.

Unsolicited stories submitted to an editor go into a “slush pile.” Editors receive slush by the ton. Even small-press magazines paying nothing but copies for stories receive hundreds of submissions each month. The bulk of the stories in those piles are unpublishable crap.

I have participated in several critique groups over the years, and I’ve worked with a number of editors. I know there is a lot of yuck in every single slush pile.

I’ve seen god-awful stories submitted to critique groups, with notes on the top saying “I’ve submitted this three times but no one wants to buy it, so I was hoping the group could help me figure out why.” Reading the story makes the “why” abundantly clear: Bad sentences, unbelievable characters, impossible events, horrible spelling, cookie-cutter plots … the list goes on. And yet, the writer of the story sincerely thought it wonderful and sent it out expecting someone to buy it.

It’s odd, isn’t it? Nobody buys a camera on Monday, shoots their first photo on Tuesday and sends the work to the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art on Wednesday. Nobody takes their very first oil painting to the local gallery and asks for an exhibit. But people write stories — with no clear idea exactly how to do it — and then send them off to editors every single day. It boggles the mind.

Apparently, this has been going on forever. I’m reading Mark Twain’s autobiography, and in one passage he complains that he has to read some abominable stories written by friends. He says he gets such requests all the time, and usually turns them down because most of the stuff he is asked to read is horrendous. In this instance, the requests came from friends and he couldn’t wriggle out of it.

He goes on to mention the volumes of dreck submitted to publishing houses, and compares the practice of a novice writer submitting a story for publication to a raw recruit demanding a promotion to brigadier general.

Since Twain’s day, the Internet has made it even easier for novice writers to get their bad, bad stuff into the slush.

This is why most stories in a slush pile get only a cursory read. An editor looking at a pile of six billion manuscripts is simply not going to read every single one of them to the end. He or she will read until encountering something stupid, or losing interest, or deciding the story is like a billion other stories submitted that week. That often happens within the first two dozen words of a story.

Then the editor will stop reading, write a rejection notice and move on to the next story.

It’s not fair, perhaps, but it’s a necessary evil when the slush pile is so big.

Aspiring writers might think I’m being mean, but I’m not. I’m not saying any of this to convince anyone who wants to be a writer to give up. I’m merely suggesting that you have someone with a critical eye and some writing credentials read your stuff before you submit it to paying markets. Join a critique group. Find others who write and read the same kind of stuff you write. Ask them to rip your stuff to shreds, and listen to them. In time, you’ll learn what works and what doesn’t. You’ll learn how to hook an editor’s attention right away — and then you’ll be ready to sell stories.

I happen to have friends who are writers, and I’ve made many connections with other writers via the web. It has helped my writing immensely to have these people look at my stuff before I submit it. I don’t always agree with every point they make, but I’ve learned a lot in the process.

Like building houses or fixing cars, writing a coherent piece of fiction takes practice. Put in your apprenticeship, and it will pay dividends.

Vacationing in New England, we traveled through beautiful, mountainous Vermont.

In doing so, we passed by a billion and one things named after someone named Molly Stark. The Molly Stark Elementary School. The Molly Stark Diner. The Molly Stark Bed and Breakfast. The Molly Stark Institute for Advanced Herpetology Research.

OK, I may be recalling some of the names unclearly, but you get the idea. Everything was named after Molly Stark, even the highway. If we had traveled through Hannibal, Mo., I doubt we’d have seen Mark Twain’s name plastered on as many items as was Molly Stark’s. The weird thing was that neither me nor my wife had any bloody idea who Molly Stark was.

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A lot of people are getting all up in arms about “The DaVinci Code” and its so-called blasphemies. Much of the discussion links the book’s author, Dan Brown, with the conspiracy theories that fuel his novel and the new movie based on it.

Now, I have no idea whether Dan Brown or the filmmakers believe any of that stuff or not. I rather doubt that they do. But who really cares? It’s just fiction, folks.

Bram Stoker didn’t have to believe in the blood-sucking undead to write “Dracula.” I’m fairly certain Mary Shelly never assembled corpse parts into a living, breathing monster. (But I wasn’t there, so who knows?) Fiction writers make things up. It’s a job requirement. Fiction writers who don’t make things up really aren’t very good.

But some people think they can guess a writer’s personal beliefs, political views and bad habits just from reading the person’s fiction. So, I want to state categorically and for the record to anyone who reads the “Freehold” books from Carnifex Press: My main character Hissu is a snake-worshipping cannibal — but I haven’t eaten anyone.

Honest. (Burp.)