Those little ‘aha!’ moments

I’ll admit one of the things that’s been worrying me about the new version of Theadia is that with the new scenes, I sometimes feel like I’m putting in filler. I know I’m not; I’m putting these new scenes in for reasons that will become clear further into the story. Thing is, some of these reasons are a bit, er, vague at the moment because I don’t have a crystal clear idea of how to reveal these plot points.

Then there are the moments where I’m being super patient with the low word count and pushing through, and somehow a shining bit of plot clarity pops in. That aha! moment, so to speak. I’ve just had a few of them over the last couple of days, in which I somehow backed myself into the exact spot the scene needed to be in.

Those are some of my favorite moments in writing, to be honest. It’s the pay-off for all the hard work and the frustration, where I suddenly see all the threads being woven together at once. That happened a lot with the Bridgetown trilogy and is happening here as well.

So I just need to remind myself to remain patient and vigilant, and all will make sense eventually.

Contemplation

Still working on distraction. I know, I know…but it’s a lifelong battle for me. Well — I wouldn’t necessarily call it a battle per se…more like an avoidance. In this current case, I feel like the new words I’m providing for Theadia are not working because I’m avoiding going any deeper with the story for some reason.

I mean, I’ll admit that a few of these chapters feature characters in positions I’m not entirely familiar with, and perhaps I’m worried that I’ll make a hash of it. But then again, I’ve written about messiahs, professional musicians and magical girls, right? How hard could this really be? Perhaps it’s not entirely about wanting to get it right, but wanting to get it right the first time.

Now that is one of my best and worst qualities, really. Perfectionism in writing is madness, as I’ve already learned many times.

Anyway…the fact remains that I’m going to need to force myself to do a much deeper dive for these characters. The scenes work…but they’re still far too static. I need them to be doing things, not just sitting at desks talking. And I need to take care of this now before I get too far into the rewrite, or else it’s just going to be a literal rewrite: a transcription with a few things changed and some pretty boring added scenes.

So I think what I need to do is get rid of this habit of avoidance. Let myself contemplate what goes on in the minds of these characters. Why are they doing what they’re doing? Who are they in relation to their surroundings? How are they able to do what they set out to do, what are the possible obstacles, and what are the possibilities of them being stopped?

I need to work this out somehow.

Acceptable Terminology

One thing I’ve been doing with Theadia is playing around with the terminology of things. Considering it takes place at some unknown point in the far future, I’ve decided that I’m going to experiment with some technological terms so that perhaps some of it is anachronistic while other terms are more generalized.

Computers, for example will rarely be referred to as ‘computers’ (the term just feels so 80s in my head even though it’s universal these days) but rather as things like databases, tablets and monitors. The same with phones; the tech has changed just enough in my story that I don’t see them using cell phones as we know them, but more like mini-tablets as we do know them. They don’t take a call but answer hails. My terminology is supposed to hint at familiar devices that have slightly different names and appearances than what we’re normally familiar with. And to be more nerdy: the internets are less about websites and social media (though they do exist here) and more about useful connection points to what you want or need to do at that moment. And yes, that does in fact include reading social sites and reading news feeds. The same, just slightly different. [Part of this is to underscore the way our two heroes view their work and what will happen to them in this story; the tl;dr is that their jobs are such that they understand what’s under the hood here and see their tech in that way.]

Do I really need to do this? Well, not exactly, but it’s part of my worldbuilding that I enjoy playing around with. I did the same with the Bridgetown Trilogy — there were cars (‘transports’) but there were also driverless lorries and such. It’s just part of the background color that makes the story a bit more real and intriguing.

Hrrmm…

Yeah, I think I’m more than a bit out of practice when it comes to writing bigger stories. It’s been far too long since I’ve written in this style, I think. But I’m being patient and hoping that it all works out eventually. It’ll come back to me.

Over this past week I’ve been trying to write an all-new chapter for Theadia that introduces an important secondary character, but I know that this very rough draft is coming out a little, well…rough. I know I could do better, and I’m thinking I might need to give this another go-round before I move on to the next chapter. I think I’m more annoyed that my word count plummeted to about three hundred words a session when usually they’re an easy eight hundred or so. [It doesn’t help that I’ll find myself easily distracted by music and, er, blogging things like this.] But I’m not giving up.

I’m reminding myself that I’ve been in this situation several times in the past, where my word count can fluctuate at any point in time, where I might struggle to get a single scene done one day and breeze through another one the next. It’s just how the writing biz is. And no, I’m not going to use AI to help me, as this is actually my favorite part of writing! Heh.

I’ll get through it, one way or another.

On being unconventional

I’ve said this before: Theadia is an unconventional hard-SF story. It’s not entirely about the spaceships or the combat or the high levels of tech intelligence. It’s more about the characters that are put into that world, whether they want to be there or not. I’ve also said this before as well: Theadia is about doing the right thing when no one else is bothering. But what it’s not is completely uber-serious or heavy on the military grimdark and the perils of deep space.

I love writing unconventional stories. They appeal to me and my mindset. I mean, come on: I’ve been listening to indie music since the mid 80s. My favorite stories are the ones that don’t go in the direction you expect. I’m a sucker for books and movies where you can tell the writers did their homework in weaving the plots in all sorts of unexpectedly creative ways. It only makes sense that my own writing leans the same way.

While I’ve been talking about how Theadia‘s sprawl is somewhat similar to the Mendaihu Universe, I’d say characterwise it’s more similar to the Meeks sisters in In My Blue World. There’s certainly a huge world out there (in this case a galaxy) but the story is mainly about these main characters I’m writing. I always love the idea of that dichotomy: a tight focus within a larger landscape. To me it gives the background life, and in the process our leads get to act or react accordingly to it.

I suppose this is partly why I’m still an indie author that’s self-publishing rather than going the pro route. I may have once had rose-tinted dreams about getting my novels released by a big name publisher, but the more I thought about it over the years, the more I realized that avenue felt more restrictive to my own creativity. I don’t know how to write commercial fiction, let alone genre fiction that would sell commercially, and I’m not sure if I’d be able to succeed if I managed to learn.

I just write what I enjoy the most, regardless as to whether it’s highly popular or not. And I’m quite happy with taking that unconventional route.

Prep Work

(Image courtesy of Starship Operators, a fun and unique anime I recommend.)

Whenever I have a spare moment and I’m not focusing on the final preparation of Queen Ophelia’s War, I’ve been preparing for my eventual restart/rewrite of Theadia. Why am I doing this when I have most of the original version written, you ask? Good question, that.

The easy answer is that I’m doing it the same way I wrote the Bridgetown Trilogy. Whatever is about to unfold in this restart/rewrite won’t be exactly the same as that version, just as the trilogy takes what I’d started in The Phoenix Effect and pushed it in a different and much better direction.

The more convoluted answer is that I’ve chosen to expand on several plot points, characters and situations that I’d laid out in the original Theadia. I’ve been finding moments during lulls in my work shift, just like back in the day, to write down my thoughts on how to do this. Certain secondary characters will have a much deeper and richer background and even their own plot lines. While it will still focus on the two main characters — after all, they are not just the instigators of the story but what drives the rest of the main cast — I want to know more about the rest of this universe.

Thus, I’m doing what I did with the trilogy: I’m doing a world building deep dive. Something I haven’t done for quite a number of years. It makes sense for me to do this, considering this is a subgenre I don’t have nearly as much experience writing. [It’s not that I’m a ‘never say no’ writer…I’m more of the ‘I wonder if I could pull this off, let’s try it’ kind.] And if I’m going to do it justice, I want to do my homework.

The current version does work…but there are worrying moments of Handwavium and This Happens Offscreen, and I’d rather not go that route. The best way to fix this, in my experience, is to do that deep dive. I’ll do a bit of research, sure, but I also want this story as believable as possible without getting lost in super-heavy hard-sf techspeak. While it exists, that’s not what the story is about; the project’s focus has always been about the people behind the tech, both the ones who create it and the ones who use it, who may not exactly understand all of it but might at least understand how it works to some degree. [I’ve often joked that this project is my anti-Cory Doctorow story, in which I try to avoid techspeak infodumps as much as I can and still get away with it.]

Will I pull it off? Well, I won’t know until I write it, will I?

Final revision: fix-it notes

Yep. I’m in the final revision of Queen Ophelia’s War — about halfway through the novel, in fact. This is where I’m doing one last reread at the end of the day on my ereader in bed, a pen and pad at my side. I’ve learned that this is where I find most of the small-time errors that I might miss or skip over while working on the PC: use of the wrong word, confusing dialogue tags, missing words…or my worst enemy: word repetition. [I have the occasional bad habit of using the same word or phrase multiple times within the same paragraph. Easy to fix but embarrassing to discover.]

When I’m at this level of revision, I’ll go straight through the entire work from start to finish before I make any fixes. This will allow me the ability to insert notes out of order — if there’s an important moment near the end of the book that needs to be hinted at earlier on, for instance. That will also make the final final revision session that much easier: fixing those small problems and giving it a bit of shine.

Then I’ll be able to sign off on it and prep it for self-publishing!

Breaking out of the comfort zone

(image courtesy of Bocchi the Rock)

I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to push myself out of that comfort zone I’d been in for years. Why was I even there in the first place? Was it about trust? Self-trust? Embarrassment? Worry? One or many of these things? Well. Most of it’s all gone now, at any rate. All I had to do was free myself from the self-imposed chains.

I think the last time I felt this way was when I’d started The Phoenix Effect back in 1997. A new part of my life had started and the road was relatively clear. It was a choice to say yeah, let’s get this writing career started. I can do this, and stick to it. But let’s face it, I hadn’t really adjusted all that much since then. Sure, I had the confidence to self-publish and all that backstage nonsense that goes along with it. But there had to be more. I knew I was holding back.

This is where I feel I’m at now. Pushing myself out of a comfort zone once again, not quite sure where it’ll take me…but trusting myself enough to know what I’m doing. Time to take more chances and look past the boundaries. Knowing I have people who’ll have my back. And knowing how to move forward with minimal blind flailing.

A lot of this will be new to me, but I’m ready for it. And I’m willing to learn.

I’m allowed to make mistakes…

…but I’m not allowed to see every mistake as a failure.

Writing a scene that ultimately does not work for the novel is not a failure. Dealing with inconsistencies and continuity errors is not a failure. Sometimes writing is rewriting and revising and trying a different tack. I’m allowed to be worried that my project is still a mess that needs a lot of work, but it’s not a failure if I’m willing to do that work to make it better, no matter how long it takes.

Putting a novel project aside for a while with the possibility of it being trunked is not a failure. Sometimes the end result is simply not what I’d hoped it would be, knowing that I could do so much better. Or maybe that I’ve just lost interest in the idea now that I’ve let it percolate for a while.

Hitting only a few dozen words a day instead of a few hundred, or even a few thousand, is not a failure — nor is it a mistake. Not giving myself enough time to write every now and again is not a failure. Distraction and wasting time is not a failure, but an issue that can be fixed if I put my mind to it.

I’m willing to make mistakes. Failure, at least for me, is not even trying in the first place.

Creative…privilege?

So some AI-leaning techbro this week posted something on social media about artists, writers, musicians, etc., having the unfair advantage of “creative privilege” because they allegedly came to their craft with some gods-given blessing, and it’s unfair that the rest of the non-creative world has to actually, y’know, work at it, and it’s all unfair that we creatives have that advantage.

Or something like that. Either way, he’s currently getting roasted in response.

I’ll be honest, my first reaction to this complaint was that it kind of reminded me of high school. It reminded me of being a non-sports kid in a school where most extracurricular funding went to the boys’ football team, no teacher wanted be an advisor for school plays so there weren’t any, and the funding and printing for the school newspaper got pulled the year before. So me, my friends Kevin and Kris, and a few others, decided to use our creative privilege to edit and put it out ourselves, using Pagemaker on the school’s Mac and the gracious help of the printing class teacher who ran a few hundred copies off on printer paper and collated them for free. We used our creative privilege by figuring out a workaround and doing most of the work ourselves. Sort of self-publishing it, in a way. And it was a success! We kept it going the entire year on a consistent basis, got several other students to write articles, and kept it alive when no one else bothered.

If there’s such a thing as creative privilege, it’s the ability to move past roadblocks and obstacles. There’s no One Right Way or One Weird Trick They Don’t Want You To Know to do it either, because it’s different for everyone. It’s what works for you, and it’s most definitely not just about finding shortcuts, either. Running a complicated algorithm that essentially mashes up other people’s creative works and then slapping your own name on it is a shortcut, and a dishonest one at that. Figuring out your own style and voice takes hard mental and emotional work, and you need to put in that work, because those who see the end result can definitely tell the difference.

A good example: remember those music mashups of the early 00s? Some of them were amusing and entertaining, and I have a collection of them in my music library. But there’s a big difference between what’s known as the “A + B” mashup (one song over the other with minimal separation or creativity) and the actual DJ mixing (seamlessly sliding one song’s separated vocal lines onto the instrumental of another song). This so-called “AI art” and “AI writing” is, for the most part, the former. And it’s not artificial intelligence, despite the label it’s been given. The computer is merely running software and mashing up different parts the user chose, that’s all; any ‘mixing’ is also the computer doing a bit of barebones touch-up. And yes, you can definitely tell the difference.

So my answer? Sure! I’ve got creative privilege, and I’m proud of it because I worked hard for years at it! I may not be raking in the money and the prestige, but I’m still getting the occasional ebook sale and that’s pretty damn cool in itself. That’s all I’ve really wanted.

And I’m sure you can make it happen as well. You just need to do more than run an algorithm, have the computer do the mashup work, and say ‘there, it’s done’.