Breaking for lunch. Revisions a little going a little slower than I thought. Confused protagonist still wary of federal agent., strange woman and soldier trying to convince him to leave a strange apartment.
Saturday, April 7, 9:18 a.m: Beginning my writing day today. Thought I would experiment with a live blog, because I know you want to know my every thought and idea.
I will attempt to update you periodically as I write. I should probably just do this on Facebook or Twitter, but neither posts directly to WordPress. Anyhow, my first task is to edit last weekend’s revision of my WIP, revising the first draft of my science fiction novel, which I don’t yet have a title for.
Steering away from SF and random posts on writing, I’m going to give you a link to a friend’s blog. If you are a bit whacky you might get help from her. (Hope she takes no offense to my attempts at humor.)
The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A good novel. Better on the second read. Obviously influential to the genre–cyberpunk in particular. But I seem to be missing why it’s such a seminal SF work. Still, Gully Foyle maybe most memorable character in SF.
Comments?
In the early part of the twenty-first century there were people who believed we were being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s; those people were dismissed as loons, quacks who went out to New Mexico and watched for the Grays to emerge from Area 51.
At the time, I thought such people were at the very least misinformed, pretty damn weird, and probably sold jars of lime Gatorade to tourists believing they were buying alien urine. So it goes.
***
In my late forties I decided to begin taking a morning constitutional on the advice from the books of health gurus—to some these gurus are quacks as well—and on one of these walks, on a crisp cloudless October morning, in a quaint middle-class neighborhood west of my flat, I passed by a nice red-brick house of a family I knew only slightly, when I heard a slight rustling from their hedges.
I stopped and listened, thinking it was only a squirrel or a bird, or perhaps a lizard. But the sunlight dappling through the shade tree in the front yard revealed something else—an azure sparkle through the leaves. At first I dismissed it as perhaps some piece of trash, a beer can perhaps, caught in the leaves.
Later, after we knew the truth of the mattter, some who saw the pictures I took with my camera phone said they heard hissing in the night sky. Others heard nothing, but reported a mass of comets sho0ting through the sky, an unusual enough phenomenon little reported by the media, which was too busy analyzing Kanye West’s decision to go into fashion design.
Anyhow, I started on my way once more, but then the rustling in the hedges erupted again. I stopped and turned and watched. Something was rising steadily above the leaves and limbs. I brought my camera into focus.
A glowing blue globe peeked from over the edge of the hedge. I trembled but felt compelled to approached, almost as if the Thing were laying some kind of Jedi-mindtrick on me.
The Thing rose silently. There were no visible means of propulsion. Clearly, a technology superior to any on Earth—as far a we know (who, after all, really knows just what the frak is going on at Area 51).
I moved closer. It hovered in place over the hedge. I saw no massive hole, no sign of impact whatsoever. It made no threatening moves, no sound, but I knew better. I knew from sci-fi flicks that nothing good could come of this.
I knew the invasion was on, and at the moment, was its only witness on this too quiet street . . .
Hello reader/s:
It’s been a chaotic two months with little time to post here. I won’t bore you with the details of the chaos that’s interrupted my posting here.
In the midst of that chaos, however, I have been reading. Often reading is the only solace I have.
What have I read? Recent reads include Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451, along with the authorized graphic novel by Tim Hamilton. I had intended to read the graphic novel first and then read the novel itself, but I discovered when reading Hamilton’s book, I had forgotten how to read comics, how to meld graphics and narrative together as I read.
I had to go back and read the novel to “see” what Hamilton was doing with Bradbury’s narrative. As I read, both books became enhanced. The novel seemed to gain a stronger visual element than it had before, the graphic novel’s narrative flow was better grasped by a mind used to linear narratives.
Anyhow, I’m also in the midst of reading Frank Herbert’s Dune and looking forward to reading Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War.
So, that’s it for now. Hope to write again soon.
Here is this week’s Booking Through Thursday:
What are you reading right now? What made you choose it? Are you enjoying it? Would you recommend it? (And, by all means, discuss everything, if you’re reading more than one thing!)
Two books. The first is China Mieville’s The City & The City, which tied for best novel in this year’s Hugo Awards.
You may or may not know that I’m trying my hand at writing science fiction, and I’ve been reading and rereading in that genre extensively for the past several months. My first attempts as a fledgling writer were in science fiction and fantasy, and I kind of abandoned these nurturing forms in grad school — a bad case of becoming a snobby reader — and tried to pass myself off as a “literary” writer, whatever that is, even though my published — and recently submitted —short fiction has fantastic elements in it.
Anyhow, I decided to read Mieville’s novel to see what some of the currents of the genre are. I’m not far into the novel enough to give it an evaluation, although it’s clear from this novel, and from others I’ve recently read, that there is no reason to sneer at the actual writing. Stylistically, Mieville’s talented. He’s writing in the voice of a detective investigating a murder in a fictional Balkans city. I haven’t hit on the elements that make the novel science fiction, yet. Although, I understand there’s some hidden mystery within the mystery of an unsolved crime.
The second book, also science fiction, is Nancy Kress’s short story collection Nano Comes to Clifford Falls. Again initial interest comes in getting in touch with currents in a particular genre. That said, I recently read Kress’s novel Steal Across the Sky, a comic look at what might happen if the aliens really did meddle in our lives and then came here to make amends for meddling. I had read her columns in Writer’s Digest for years, but had not read any of her fiction.
What I’ve read of her short stories so far, I’ve liked. The title story portrays what might happen if nanotechnology were to invade a small Midwestern town, without the town fully understanding this cutting edge technology. The second story in the collection is a humor piece dealing with an argument over who owns genes donated to a pharmaceutical company to develop a flu vaccine.
Again, I’m not far enough into the story collection to give it a full evaluation, but I like what I’m reading so far.
I can say that both books are giving me a wide perspective into a open-ended genre. It’s clear science fiction isn’t just about blasting through the stars—but has it ever really been just about that?
An insightful post about writing and the importance of storytelling. Why do writers forget storytelling? Also pay attention to the bit on the importance of the protagonist being a flawed character. Enjoy.
To paraphrase Buffalo Springfield: Something’s happening in the world of literary publishing. What it is ain’t exactly clear.
A comment on this post suggests something could be done: an anthology, an e-book, etc. And it does sound as if The Paris Review is rejecting previously accepted based on the aesthetics of the new editors.
Or maybe the Paris Review has just gone to hell in a hand basket after the death of George Plimpton.
This blog post addresses a fear lurking in the underbrush of my mind: Will there be a time in the near future when writers no longer get paid for what they do (not that for most part the pay is all that great, but still . . .)? What happens if or when every newspaper and magazine folds? Will any online content be paid for?
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