sci-fi author, beatmaker

Category: Writing Page 1 of 18

Communications from my Past Self (and other reasons to write)

East Cut neighborhood in San Francisco

I’m gearing up for some changes to this site. Probably a new theme, and hopefully a better system for signing up for my newsletter.

Considering these changes has led me to consider what this blog is for. Self-expression? Self-promotion? Is it a lifestyle blog? A health blog? A creativity blog?

Sure, all of the above. But here are the reasons that resonate with me the most right now:

1. To think more clearly. For me at least, there’s no substitute for writing about a topic in order to understand it, to formulate and articulate my views. I write, therefore I think.

2. To have a record of what I was thinking and feeling at a particular time. Just today I reread a post I’d written from when I’d overcommitted to work, and was feeling overwhelmed. At the moment I feel like I don’t have quite enough freelance work, which creates some financial stress. But reading my previous post reminded me that I said some no-thank-yous to give myself more time to work on writing and music. So that’s what I should do.

3. To grow my readership. I haven’t put much energy into this, but it is important to me. Having regular readers is great for so many reasons. But it’s a responsibility, a two-way street, and if I’m not writing interesting and helpful posts then I can’t expect an audience to stick around.

And here are a couple reasons that don’t, or no longer, resonate with me:

1. To write about health topics. Bottom line, I’m not a medical professional. I have a deep interest in nutrition and human health, but there are also huge gaps in my knowledge. In another life I might have become a nutritionist or naturopath, but that’s not the path I chose. And that’s not the kind of reader I want to attract or interact with.

2. To sell something. This blog will never become a sales funnel to buy my course or eBook. I just have no interest in that. If you happen to discover one of my novels that you think you’d enjoy, and buy it, fantastic! But the primary purpose of this blog never was and never will be to make a quick buck.

Personal Updates

  • I recently returned from the Nebulas Conference in Anaheim. It was my first in-person writing conference since the beginning of the pandemic, and being around other authors was incredibly energizing. I didn’t have any particular agenda beyond learning and socializing, but I ended the weekend with a slew of new ideas and a recharged writing battery. My friend Jane was nominated for a game-writing Nebula for her work on a recent D&D book, and though GRRM won the award for Elden Ring, I felt very happy for her and her team. I also met Steve Lerner, the writer of Stray (nominated in the same category)–I look forward to playing the cyber-cat game. As for novels, I’m currently reading and enjoying Daughters of Tith by J. Patricia Anderson.
  • The quiver of complete, unpublished fiction is getting pretty full, and in the coming months I’ll be shifting my efforts to submitting more work for publication, and possibly taking another crack at the agent querying process. At the moment I’m working on revisions of Green Dawn (previously titled The Savior Virus), a near-future medical thriller/sci-fi novel.
  • There are a few social issues I’m trying to think more clearly about, so I’ll probably write about them in the near future. A few of the questions I’m considering:
    • What Should the Left Do About Men? (high male unemployment, falling educational levels, social isolation, etc.)
    • How Can Labor Disrupt the False Promises of AI-Enhanced Productivity?
    • What are the Most Effective Ways Citizenry can Reclaim Power from Fascist/Authoritarian Leaders and Groups?
  • I have two new EDM releases out:

That’s all for today, hope you are enjoying your weekend!

How I’m Protecting my Writing Time (and Sanity)

In 2020 my freelance consulting work crashed. Though none of my clients went out of business, many scaled back their operations and/or new software development dramatically in response to the pandemic. This, combined with a steady downward trend in the type of consulting work I’d been doing for many years, resulted in a very slow work year with far fewer billable hours than I needed to cover my expenses.

Did I Plagiarize Lloyd Alexander?

Recently I started rereading Lloyd Alexander‘s The Book of Three, a fantasy novel I hadn’t cracked open in roughly four decades. My daughter was giving away some books, and this was among several I rescued. As a child, I remember being fascinated and slightly disturbed by the first edition cover art, and enjoying the entire series immensely.

But reading the book again, I was astonished to realize the opening scene is between two arguing blacksmiths — that exact same way The Sky Woman (Book 1 of Reclaimed Earth) opens.

Fortunately the similarities end there — The Sky Woman has no oracular pig, or princes and kings, or epic battle between good and evil.

But I’m sure it’s not a coincidence. The Chronicles of Prydain series was my introduction to high fantasy, well before I read the Lord of the Rings. The Book of Three sat in my subconscious for decades, influencing my thinking and decisions in who-knows-how-many ways.

The stories we hear and read when we’re young shape our lives forever. I wonder what other stories are rummaging around in my subconscious, influencing my decisions.

Personal Updates

  • I’m loving living in San Francisco. It turns out we’re in the East Cut neighborhood, not South Beach. After living in the Oakland/Berkeley flats for most of my life, the vastness and scale of the architecture (the Bay Bridge, the Salesforce tower, the Ferry Building) is refreshing. Walking the Embarcadero at night is stunningly beautiful. Of course the novelty will wear off in time, but I’m enjoying it for now.
  • We’re about to start remodeling our house in Oakland. We’re in a good financial position, and we have a good team, but still the money stress is getting to me. Even modest remodels are crazy expensive. But it’s what we need to do to make the house nice and rent it out at a good price. And if/when we ever move back in, we’ll appreciate the upgrades.
  • I got my Covid booster. So now I’m J&J plus Pfizer. No side effects this time except for a day of mild tiredness and a sore arm.
  • Still taking a break from all alcohol, approaching two months. The main thing I notice is that even though my stress levels are high right now, so is my emotional resilience. Usually high stress, for me, comes with some feelings of despair and hopelessness. But lately I’ve been facing my problems energetically with a non-forced sense of optimism. I would guess at least some of that emotional shift is from not drinking, perhaps related to neuromodulatory microbiome changes. Or it could be unrelated — no way to easily test. But for the moment, I’m happier abstaining from booze entirely.

Results of September Copy Practice

After revising the first draft of Saint Arcology, I decided to take a few weeks before starting my next project. But I didn’t want to stop writing entirely; I needed to keep my word brain active. I decided to go with some copy practice: copying the prose of some of my favorite authors.

I’d read about a particular method: reading a paragraph or two, then attempting to write out that section from memory. Then go back and notice how your prose decisions are different (and presumably worse, if you’ve picked someone good) than the writer you are copying.

I started with this method, but found it difficult and frustrating. I’m not great a memorization, and I was putting too much effort into trying to remember what I had just read, and not enough into noticing the author’s stylistic choices. So I switched to a simpler method: open a book at random, read a few paragraphs for enjoyment, then copy those paragraphs directly.

I started with Pattern Recognition by William Gibson. Gibson’s prose is information dense. He conveys a tremendous amount of meaning with a tight word budget. But on this read-through I was also struck by how vividly and precisely Gibson describes internal states. For example:

Excerpt from The Last Crucible

John Scalzi has invited me to to share a “Big Idea” from my forthcoming novel The Last Crucible (Book 3 of Reclaimed Earth, out 9/21 on Flame Tree Press). The Big Idea post will go live a few days later on https://whatever.scalzi.com/. In preparing the various links to send along with the post, I realized there isn’t yet an easy way to read an excerpt from the book. So I’ll provide one. Please enjoy a section from Chapter Five of The Last Crucible, wherein Jana first encounters Maro and his companions from the Michelangelo, in their ostentatious gold-leaf balloon.

Excerpt from The Last Crucible

Jana had finished planting the barley with her father that morning, and was now helping Sperancia prepare a garlic extract for Pietro. The medicine would not cure him, but it slowed his wasting and made him stronger. And the boy would need his strength for his journey to Ilium; his parents had decided to accept the visitors’ offer.

On the way down the hill from Sperancia’s house, still in the shadow of the castle, Jana noticed a golden glint in the sky. Traversing the narrow cobblestone streets of the old town, she lost sight of whatever was producing the reflection. But after delivering the garlic extract and a basket of eggs from Sperancia’s chickens to Pietro’s family, she made her way to the town square and caught sight of the flickering light again. This time it was bigger and brighter: a golden orb slowly descending toward Bosa, from the south.

Whoever or whatever was approaching them had not taken a subtle approach, and Jana soon found herself in the midst of a small crowd, also tracking the golden object toward its anticipated landing place. Which, to her dismay, turned out to be right in the middle of her freshly planted field of barley.

“What could it be?” Filumena asked her. “The visitors returning, by sky this time?”

“Maybe,” said Jana. “But perhaps someone else entirely.”

The orb was vast, a glittering golden balloon. Jana could make out three figures in the basket, two men and a woman, naked from the waist up, with olive-gold skin. The men and women looked down imperiously, unsmiling, at the townsfolk gathered below, who were standing without a thought on her freshly planted barley seeds. But Jana was dumbstruck too, and could not even open her mouth to complain.

They were the most beautiful people she had ever seen, tall and muscular, with large eyes, strong noses, and high cheekbones. All of them had thick black hair, oiled slick, precisely cut and styled. And the balloon itself was a work of art, covered in shimmering layers of thin gold leaves. Actual gold, from the look of it, hammered thinner than paper, interspersed with other metallic leaves: gleaming silver and bright copper. But mostly gold. More gold than existed in all of Bosa, a thousand times over.

The basket, a delicate structure woven in intricate patterns of wicker and brass wire, touched down, and a moment later mechanically unfolded. The golden people strode toward them, unarmed and half-naked but completely unafraid, saying nothing. None of the Bosa people had weapons either, not even a staff.

The tallest of the sky visitors stopped a few paces away, and scrutinized the townsfolk, one by one, appraisingly. His eyes lingered on Filumena, which was only natural given her beauty. But another thought crept into Jana’s mind, an observation she might have considered an impossibility only minutes ago. Filumena, even with her pleasing features and glowing skin, looked almost plain compared to the angelic, otherworldly beauty of the three.

“I am Maro Decimus,” said the tallest of them in Italian, his voice deep and resonant. To Jana’s surprise she realized he was addressing her directly. While the others had stepped back, she had stepped forward, blocking his view of Filumena.

“What do you want?”

He regarded her coldly, and his right hand twitched. She stared back at him, defiant, unafraid of being struck. He looked strong, but not strong enough to kill her with a single punch. And what was a little pain, a bloody lip, or even a lost tooth? Those were just parts of her body, not her. On some level she knew that when the vessel perished, so would her mind, her self, her soul. But she could not make that logic match the way she felt, that her body was just a thing, sometimes useful but not at all precious. So she felt no physical fear, and showed none.

A snakelike smile crept over Maro’s face, and out of nowhere she remembered the time she had seen Sperancia kill a sick bull with single short blow to its skull, and the cracking sound that had resulted, stone on stone. Soon she would have Sperancia’s strength, and maybe then this handsome, arrogant man, whoever he was, would come to fear her.

“What do you want?” he mimicked. “We come not to take, but to give.”

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