It’s day 6 of Blogtober, and today I’m going to talk about fantasy as a genre. I admit I am not quite as comfortable writing about fantasy as I am about science fiction. Yesterday’s post was easy. Today, I need to work harder to provide useful and cogent thoughts on the subject, which in its own way, is a reflection of the genre itself. But we’ll get to that.

Why am I Talking about Fantasy?

Nanowrimo is next month. The project I’ve decided to work on for November is a new fantasy novel about a band of adventurers reanimated from stone and sent on a quest to save the province from an oppressive force preparing an invasion at the border. Our heroes know how to swing swords, shoot arrows, and cast spells, but they don’t remember how they became encased in stone in the first place. Along the way, they will discover who they really are, the nature of power, and who it is that’s been pulling their strings for so long.

I read fantasy, though not as much as I read science fiction. I believe many of the skills needed to construct an entertaining and believable world in scifi applies directly to fantasy.

I have completed an urban fantasy novel as well as several fantasy short stories. My experiences allow me to talk about the genre, though again, I am not an authority or an educator. I’m just a writer with interest and strong opinions.

Defining Fantasy

I’m tempted to copy/paste what I wrote yesterday. Science fiction and fantasy are both genres, and genre itself is not particularly useful as a writing tool. Genre informs the publisher and the marketer in how to sell the book. Genre sets up the reader’s expectations on what they’re about to read. As a writing tool, it tells the writer what details they can skip when introducing strange or unusual elements. Dragons, unicorns, elves, mermaids… genre allows the writer to slot these ideas without a lot of prep work or fanfare. But what’s the damage if a skilled writer takes the time to fully present the awe and majesty of one of these fantastical beings?

I want to define fantasy without relation to science fiction, and I’m struggling. Fantasy is so broad it is nearly all-encompassing of all fiction. That is not a useful definition, and not what people think about when talking about fantasy as a genre.

Fantasy is Leigh Bardugo’s Grisha books, it’s Ilona Andrew’s Kate Daniels series, it’s Emma Newman’s Splitworld novels, it’s An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir, it’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norell by Susanna Clarke. Arguments can be made that N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth series and Ann McAffrey’s Pern novels are fantasy. Those stories have many of the hallmarks of fantasy, and feel like fantasy most of the time, even if the authors said the books are SciFi.

Of course, fantasy is also Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time, George R. R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire, Brandon Sanderson’s multiple series, and the books by J. R. R. Tolkien. But you probably don’t need me to mention those guys.

What Sets Fantasy Apart from Science Fiction?

Both genres are about wonder and spectacle. Usually, SciFi deals in the realm of possibility while fantasy is filled with the mystical. In general terms, if you use a tool or methodology to solve a problem in the plot of SciFi, it must adhere to the laws of science. If it does not, then you’ve written a fantasy.

On the surface, it sounds like fantasy is easier to write than science fiction, but I find the opposite to be the case. If I want to know how to make simulated gravity work on The Moon, I can do some research and some math and come up with a solution. It may be improbable, but it’s possible and supportable. I can rely on the already written rules of reality to support my story. In fantasy, if I come up with a magical solution to a problem, I have to establish the rules of that magic and define reality itself. That is a lot more work, necessary in order to make a more satisfying and compelling environment.

How to Write Fantasy

The first goal should be to write a good story, regardless of the genre. That means compelling characters, relationships, emotion, truth, and passion — the ingredients to all great narratives. Writing a good fantasy means doing all of that plus world building, which is the main ingredient that turns your tale into a fantasy.

When it comes to the nuts and bolts of writing fantasy, there are other, better resources online. Brandon Sanderson’s take on magic systems, for example, is complete and compelling. I’m not interested in parroting those resources or retreading that ground. Instead, I will just touch on two high-level topics I keep in mind while writing fantasy: consistency and cost.

When looking at the fantastical element of your story, the reader will be dissatisfied if the writer is inconsistent. Brandon Sanderson defines the rules to his systems thoroughly and exhaustively, and sticks with those rules while making them integral to the plot. Tolkien, on the other hand, uses magic in a more poetic fashion, and we trust that it all works because we trust Gandalf. Both approaches are wildly divergent from each other, but since the writers are consistent in the way they use magic, the stories work.

The idea of cost is a little bit more granular, and could also be described as consequences. Cost and consequence in fantasy usually refers to magic systems, but it could be any exploitation of a resource in order to achieve a goal. Unicorn blood can cure any wound, but the cured lives a half-life, a cursed existence. Pegasus can carry a hero across vast distances very quickly, but you must win the trust of the mythic beast, and there are very few of them. The sorcerer’s pen never runs out of ink, because it uses the blood of the writer to fuel it.

The cost of a magical solution doesn’t necessarily have to be obvious, but it should be present. If you do not have consequences, you do not have tension. If you have no intention of having consequences in the narrative, then you should consider how the free and abundant resource impacts the world at large. If there is no cost, the consequences are that the writer will need to work this alternative science or technology into the world building.

Parting Thoughts

Almost everything I said about SciFi yesterday applies to fantasy today. The goal of the writer is to create a great story first and foremost, which means developing compelling characters, interesting environments, inevitable but surprising twists, and emotional journeys. The tools you use to craft a good SciFi story are applicable when writing a fantasy.

Research helps ground a fantasy story when describing the elements that exist in the real world, such as horses, blacksmithing, sword fighting, and masonry. If you spend the time getting those details right, the reader will trust you when you launch into the aspects of your world that can’t exist.

The primary distinction between fantasy and other genres is the aesthetics and the feel. This doesn’t have to be based on European history, though that is common.

If you haven’t written a fantasy story, give it a try. Here’s your prompt: a mischievous character down on their luck and nearly out of money finds a magic wand. What does the magic wand do? How will they use it to improve their situation? Who is the rightful owner of the magic wand, and how will your character deal with them?

Thank you for following along along! Tomorrow we’ll talk about Writing What Matters, a topic which transcends all genres.

Today, the 5th day of Blogtober, I’m going to talk broadly about science fiction. While I won’t get too much into the nuts and bolts of writing scifi, I hope to convey a broader understanding of the genre and offer a few suggestions how to approach writing it.

Why am I Talking about SciFi?

As soon as I’m done with this blog post, I’m going to get another coffee, crack my knuckles, and do some word sprints on Twitter. I’m going to focus on my SciFi novel, Synthetic Dreams. As stated the first day, one of my goals this month is to finish the first draft before Nanowrimo.

This will be my second completed SciFi novel. Additionally, I read a lot of SciFi, and have been doing so since my early teens. I attend SciFi conventions. I dream to one day win a Hugo so that I can be in the company of my heroes, Robert Heinlein and Isaac Asimov.

While I may not be qualified to teach the topic, I feel sufficiently saturated in the genre to write a blog post about it. Again, I’m not an authority. I’m just enthusiastic.

Defining Science Fiction

SciFi is a genre, and genres are primarily used in marketing. They are also used as a way to group a set of tropes, patterns, and story beats so as to set the reader’s expectations. Genre is artificial and conceptual, much the way currency is representative of value without actually being valuable itself.

Okay, I intentionally packed that paragraph with controversial viewpoints. That’s okay, because SciFi itself is often packed with controversial points of view, and is viewed by some as the perfect vehicle for examining and criticizing society. Some of the best science fiction ever put to print relies on soft science, rather than hard.

SciFi is usually future thinking, and usually sticks to what is possible, even if improbable. I have to use the ugly word “usually” because several pillars of the genre are definitely neither of those things. Just look at Star Wars and Dune. I’m not bashing either of those, and there are lots of people that say Star Wars is a fantasy or a space opera, rather than calling it SciFi. However, most people consider Star Wars a SciFi story. You’ll find both Dune and Star Wars in the SciFi section of your local bookstore (if you still have a local bookstore).

So what is SciFi? It is space ships and robots and magic dust that lets you see the future and turns your eyes blue. It is physics and sociology wrapped in an allegory. It is Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, it is Isaac Asimov’s Foundation, it is Andy Weir’s Martian, it is Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, it is Ursula K. Le Guin’s Left Hand of Darkness, it is Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.

SciFi stories fill people with a sense of wonder and encourage the reader to ask the question, “What if?” SciFi explores space. It explores the human psyche. It trawls the oceans with robots and submarines. SciFi includes space marines and faster-than-light space travel and laser swords.

Is Science Fiction and Fantasy the Same Thing?

My plan is to talk about fantasy tomorrow, so I don’t want to get too much into the definition of fantasy today. I will say, however, that while SciFi and fantasy often get lumped together, they are not quite the same thing.

I believe there is often a fantastical element in every SciFi story. There is one or more element of the story that does not exist now, or simply cannot exist. Going faster than light is, at this point, fantasy. So are space battles as they are depicted in most stories and media. Post-apocalyptic stories start from a pessimistic fantasy. Even The Martian, one of the latest and best examples of good hard SciFi uses an inciting incident that is impossible, because the wind on Mars is not powerful enough to do what it did to Mark Watney. Andy Weir knew it, too, but went with it because it made for a good story.

Some die-hard SciFi fans focus on the science and are wont to nitpick the details that don’t measure up to their scientific standards. I think it’s important that when reading SciFi, you don’t forget that half of the title of the genre is “fiction.” SciFi is not supposed to read like the manual to your stereo receiver. To write good SciFi, you must write a good story.

How to Write Science Fiction

The first step in adding to this expansive genre is: read SciFi. Once again, the prevailing advice is “read.” Like yesterday, I recommend reading lots of SciFi stories in order to get the feel and flavor in your head. You should become familiar with the tropes, because that is the shorthand you will need to speak the same language as SciFi readers.

Reading SciFi stories also informs you of what territory has been recently trod. If you set out to write a story about a permanent settlement on The Moon, you might want to read stories like Artemis to see how another writer approached the subject.

Before I move on from the advice of “read SciFi to write SciFi,” I want to recommend that you talk to M. Todd Gallowglas about The Road by Cormac McCarthy. He will go into great detail about the importance of knowing the genre you’re writing in, even if your novel wins The Pulitzer Prize.

What else should you do to write SciFi? Research.

As an example of how research can make your SciFi story greater, I present The Lady Astronaut series by Mary Robinette Kowal. Mary Robinette clearly loves the subject. She did enough research into NASA and space flights that if you ever find yourself on a tour of NASA with her, she will provide additional insights and information such that the tour guide learns things right alongside you.

Research into the subject does not mean you must become a subject matter expert. It means that you become familiar enough that you can reliably rest plot points and environmental details on specific, real information that gives your story a sense of reality that you don’t find in other genres.

As Mary Robinette herself has stated on Writing Excuses and in person, she is not a mathematician. She is not an astronaut herself, and she doesn’t know all of the things that her characters know. However, she’s done enough research that she can ask actual astronauts and material experts the right questions, so that she can present the information in a clear and cohesive way.

Parting Thoughts

Since I have now encouraged you to do research before launching into your story, let me offer a word of caution. Do the research, but pay attention to your story. After you have gone and learned a bunch of great information, the temptation is to dump all of that knowledge onto the page, whether or not it fits. Do not do this. Your goal is to write a good story, first and foremost. Do not turn your story into a science report or a reference manual.

You may have heard the phrase “kill your darlings.” This doesn’t necessarily mean kill your characters. What it really means is that you need to let go the things you love that are not serving your story. If you filled a chapter with intricate scientific equations because you spent a week figuring it out, only to discover that it’s interrupting the pacing and flow of your story, THAT is a “darling” that needs to be cut.

I love SciFi. I think you should, too. If you have not written any SciFi, give it a try. Start with some short fiction, maybe some flash that you don’t intend to share with anyone. Set your tiny story on a space ship between the stars with two characters that don’t get along very well, forced to deal with a problem they need each other to solve. You can outline this, using the advice I gave two days ago, or you can try/fail your way through this the way I described yesterday. Immerse yourself in this story for just a moment, and see how it feels. Maybe SciFi is your jam, too!

It is day 4 of Blogtober, and today I’m going to talk about discovery writing, or “pantsing” if you prefer that term.

Normally with this topic, I would start with the spectrum between plotting and pantsing, followed with details that describe my writing style and how I relate to topic. I did that yesterday so I’m just going to assume we’re already on the same page.

For decades, I thought of myself as a pantser. I did not like outlines. Every time I wrote one, my interest in the story evaporated because I already knew how it would turn out. I’m not a big fan of spoilers.

Even now, though I use and enjoy outlines, I leave myself a lot of room to be surprised. I know where my stories are going. I have a map that will help me get there. But I’m willing to take detours if they look interesting, and I’m open to following the whims of my characters as they become increasingly bold.

Why Should I Discovery Write?

The truth is, discovery writing isn’t for everyone, just like outlining isn’t for everyone. Plotting is to pantsing in much the same way order is to chaos. The comparisons run deep.

Pantsing is about spontaneity and going with the flow. It’s about finding the story . Stephen King describes it like a paleontologist extracting fossils from the dirt. His book On Writing makes some interesting arguments against plotting your stories, some of which I only agree with in spirit.

Discovery writing is like going on vacation just to wander around the area without a schedule, letting your feet take you where they will and keeping yourself open to all possibilities. It’s about finding hole-in-the-wall restaurants and trying things you’ve never tried before. It’s about meeting people for the first time and being willing to listen to their voice and their stories.

As I described yesterday, I outline the big stuff, then I discovery write all the stuff in between, knowing that I will likely need to make several changes to my outline as I go. I seek to get the best of both worlds.

How to Discovery Write

Describing how to discovery write is a little bit like telling someone how to blink their eyes. Most of the time I just do it without thinking too much about it. However, I have a tip and a couple of tricks which will help.

The tip: read a lot. This is one of those obvious ones that is thrown at writers all the time, but I’ll go a little bit deeper. Reading a lot will familiarize your internal ear to common cadences writers use. It will also reinforce tropes and patterns that will help you naturally shape your story to something that is pleasing to other readers. The general advice is often read widely. However, for purposes of discovery writing, I recommend focusing your reading to stories within the genre you wish to write.

Now for the tricks, which I’ll break into two categories: situation and voice.

Situation deals with the circumstances the characters find themselves in. Mary Robinette Kowal talked about this on the cruise, describing try/fail cycles and the “Yes, but… / No, and…” approach.

If you’re not familiar with “Yes, but… / No, and…”, it’s a trick used in theater and improvisation in order to keep a story or sketch going. A character faces a problem. They come up with a plan to tackle the problem. Will they succeed? If you answer “Yes, but…” that means their plan is successful, but some other problem comes up. If you answer “No, and…” that means the plan failed, the original problem still exists, and now there is another problem.

Imagine a pastry chef. They’re working on a cake, and their sifter is nearly out of flour. They go to the pantry to look for more. Is there some there? Yes, but when they get it back to the kitchen, they can’t get the bag open. They reach for a knife from the cutting board to cut open the bag. Do they get it open? No, and in their attempt, the knife slips and they get a nasty slice across the palm of their hand. They still have to open the bag of flour, but now they also need to keep from bleeding into the cake.

I could have used examples from Star Wars or Die Hard, but I think this poor pastry chef demonstrated the technique pretty well. When I started writing that scene, I had no idea the chef was going to be injured. I just knew that they were going to have difficulty with a task, and the further things go off the rails, the more interesting the scene will become.

When it’s time to wrap up, you change the answer to “Yes, and…” if you’re looking for a happy ending, or “No, but…” if you’re writing a tragedy.

That technique can get you all the way through a scene. Write enough of those scenes, and you can try/fail your way all the way through a chapter, an act… the entire novel. That is one way to complete a story without using an outline.

The other trick, which you can (or perhaps should) use in tandem with the first is driven by voice. That is, create a fully realized character with dreams and ambitions, someone that is believable, then see what they do when you put them into an interesting situation.

With a single well-realized character, this will get you through action sequences. Think of Indiana Jones crawling through a dungeon. The circumstances present themselves, and since Indiana Jones is the kind of character he is, you have a good idea how he’ll resolve the situation. Bravely, poorly, and by the skin of his teeth.

Where the voice driven approach really shines is when you get two or more characters in a scene that have clear purposes that are not in alignment. That’s when you get drama and tension and dialog that all feels natural and dynamic.

Imagine a car salesman a week away from losing their mortgage, with a spouse at home that’s complaining about the bills, and a boss breathing down their neck about quotas and commissions. Now imagine a young man and woman, newlyweds, strolling onto the sales lot. They want to start a family, which means they’re going to need to get rid of his sports car and get a more affordable family vehicle. They’re just starting their lives, and every penny counts. At the same time, the new husband wants to impress his bride with something nice. The wife just wants to get something cheap and reliable, without a bunch of hassle from the sales staff.

Is the salesman the protagonist, or the husband, or the wife? It doesn’t really matter, since they all have stakes in the scene. They are all motivated and at cross purposes to one another. As long as the motivations are clear, and as long as the characters stay true to themselves throughout the scene, the tension will be felt by the reader and the scene will be compelling from beginning to end.

Parting Thoughts

Discovery writing usually means doing more work during the revisions. During the first draft, the writer is telling themselves the story, and it’s unlikely they’ll get it all in one pass. There may ideas and themes that emerge long after the writer began. That means going back and rewriting sections in the beginning to make the planting and payoff work best.

Sometimes, a character’s voice doesn’t become strong and distinct until after a writer has worked with them for a while. Again, that means going back to the beginning and adjusting places to make sure the voice is consistent and clear.

To develop a character’s voice, I will sometimes write them in something outside the story. It’s a way for me to get to know them without feeling like I’m wasting time in the novel. For one story, I wanted to get a better feel for a side character. The novel started in third person limited. To get this other character’s voice, I rewrote the story in first person, from the perspective of this secondary character.

Usually when I hear a writer talk about how much they hate editing, they’re a discovery writer. They’ve already gone through the story and they want to move on and enjoy something fresh. I used to hate editing, too. Now I see it as the place where I get to really make my story the best it can be. It’s where I get to be an artist.

If you haven’t done any discovery writing, start with some flash fiction. Decide on a character, put them in a situation, and try three try/fail cycles before they reach the end. Don’t bother with an outline. See how it feels just being fully present in the story with your protagonist. You might find it freeing, and a source for greater inspiration.

Before we get too far into the weeds, we need to talk about writers in general and one of the most common ways to categorize them.

Plotters versus Pantsers

I have written about this several times in the past. I don’t want to spend too much time on the subject again, but the plotters are the ones that do prep work in advance, laying out a plan before writing. The pantsers, people writing by the seat of their pants, are truly the first readers of their story as they’re writing it, and don’t want any of it to be spoiled. I prefer the term “discovery writing” these days for writing without an outline.

It’s more of a spectrum than a binary. Neither is wrong or right. They are different approaches with pros and cons associated with each.

Why Should I Outline?

The Repossessed Ghost was a product of discovery writing. Spin City and Synthetic Dreams are both outlined stories. From those experiences, I determined the main benefits I receive from plotting are: productivity, durability, and consistency.

What I mean by productivity is that I write faster when I have an outline. My characters don’t wander around mindlessly during the times I’m trying to figure out where the story is going. With The Repossessed Ghost, my first Nanowrimo victory, I completed the first 50,000 by writing half of it in the last three days of November. It took me another 2 months of floundering to add 11,000 more words, bringing the first draft to a close. I floundered a lot, and I underwrote it.

With Spin City, I needed to outline so that the underlying mysteries would make sense. It was my second Nanowrimo victory, and the first 50,000 words came smoothly and easily. I then wrote another 50,000 words over the next 6 months, very productive considering my busy my schedule during that time. I never felt particularly lost while writing that story.

Synthetic Dreams was my most recent Nanowrimo victory, and I completed the first 50,000 words in 19 days. Then work and other projects got in the way. The story sat untouched for 7 or 8 months. By the time I went back to finish it, I lost the flavor of the story and had work extra hard to recover. Ultimately, my outline saved me, and I’ve been able to work steadily on the story for the last several weeks.

I have three other Nanowrimo attempts on the books, all failures. I didn’t use an outline with any of those attempts. I didn’t have the structure to lean on when the going got tough. I’ve learned the value of outlining through trial and error, and I probably won’t try any more novels without some sort of written out plan.

How to Actually Outline

I’ve spent a lot of time avoiding this part of the essay. No more dallying. Here are the actual nuts and bolts of how I write an outline.

The first thing to keep in mind is that this tool is for you alone, so you should use it in whatever way works best for you. Some people like a strict tree structure, with roman numerals and indents and multiple levels, the kind of outlining we used to do in school. My approach is a bit more relaxed.

My first example is this blog post. Even though I knew it wouldn’t be too terribly long, I wanted structure. My preliminary thoughts: intro, background, detail, conclusion. I opened Notepad and typed the following:

• How to Outline
• Plotters versus Panters
• What Kind of Writer am I?
• How I Outline

That is, I started with the title of the piece. After that I decided on a topic that would be good for background information. Then I chose a topic that would allow me to move deeper into specifics, personalizing this information to myself. Finally, the last section is dedicated to this, the nuts and bolts of writing.

The actual writing of this article is mostly discovery writing. The outline lets me see where I’m going and helps me stay on track. I’ve deviated a little bit, and some sections are longer than I expected, but that’s okay. I’ve stuck with the structure I planned at the beginning. The brief outline allowed me to write this very quickly.

Blog posts are short and easy. Novels, on the other hand, are much more involved. Before starting a post or a short story, I can usually see the whole thing in my head. I don’t have to write an outline for something that small because I already know where I’m going and what I’m going to say. With a novel, I might have an idea where the story will go, but I can’t see all the details. There are pitfalls and traps in the unkind void. To make it to the end of a novel, I need a detailed map to keep me safe and keep me moving in the first direction.

Here is the first part of my actual outline to Synthetic Dreams.

Act I
Goal — Establish the world, the characters, set the tone for the story, and start each of the three cases which will act as the backdrop to the real story, which is the relationship between Dee-ehn and Jayvee

Scene — Dee-ehn and Jayvee investigate scene of highly graphic “death”
Scene — Dee-ehn and Jayvee interview victim’s neighbors
— We learn victim kept to themselves
— First view of someone suffering from the virus
— Introduction to another character which may be important later
— We see how interacting with other synths is stressful for Dee-ehn
— We see how interacting with other synths is Jayvee’s strength
Scene — On the way to the bar
— We get our first view of Humanists. Maybe they’re protesting
— We’ll get some explanation of Humanists and Singulars as Dee-ehn and Jayvee argue about the two sects

To start this outline, I decided on a structure from the beginning. This is a three-act structure, similar to what’s common in cinema. The first and third act are about the same length. The second act is about as long as the first and third put together, split in the center at a pivotal midpoint.

I state my goal for each act. For this story, with all of the strangeness and world building that has to take place, my number one goal is to get everything into the reader’s eyeballs in such a way that it isn’t intimidating, and that will get them fully invested in the characters. I even remind myself in the outline that, as interesting as I might think the mystery of the murder cases are, the real story is the relationship between our two viewpoint characters.

It might be difficult to tell in what I pasted, but there are three levels to this outline. The major acts, the scenes, and scene details. My scenes wind up aligning with chapter breaks, so what I pasted represents the first three chapters of this novel.

Some people go much deeper into the details. When I need to work through something technical or difficult, I add more descriptions in the outline. Because I could clearly see what the first chapter would be like, I didn’t add details beyond the scene description. The third scene, on the other hand, had two main purposes. It needed to give us more interaction between Jayvee and Dee-ehn while at the same time unfolding more important world building. To achieve those goals, I put strong ideas into the details of the outline.

Parting Thoughts

Putting something into an outline does not mean it has to go in the novel. We’re writing words, not laying bricks. While I depend on the outline to give support and help show me where I’m going, I listen to the characters when they want to surprise me and take over. Sometimes inspiration takes the wheel, or indigestion saturates my brain with magic writing juice. Whatever the reason, I forego the outline in order to purse what feels best for the story at the time. Sometimes this is awesome! Sometimes it produces hot garbage. Both the story and the outline are malleable, so I make adjustments along the way in accordance with what feels best.

If you haven’t written something using an outline, give it a try. The story doesn’t have to be long, and the outline doesn’t have to be that detailed. As I demonstrated here, you can outline a blog post before writing it.

I especially encourage trying an outline when you’re having difficulty staying productive.

When I write an outline, I send a message to my future self, instructing him on how to get to the end of a story. When I use an outline, my older self sits on my shoulder and rides along, doing his best to act as a navigator. In that way, outlining allows me to be doubly present during the writing process.

Since I will be doling out writing advice every day this month, it is appropriate I start with instructions on how to evaluate writing advice, whether it’s coming from me or someone else.

Before I begin, I want to repeat a little of what I said at the end of my last post, which is that I am not an expert and I am not pretending to be one. All of the advice offered on this blog comes from my personal experience, which may or may not align with the writing community at large. I am not an authority, and I am not offering prescription.

With that out of the way, let’s get into this.

Look at the Source

I encourage everyone to exercise a little bit of skepticism when taking writing advice. The amount of skepticism often depends on where the advice is coming from. You can usually trust a college professor or a widely published author. Conversely, if someone carves a few pearls into the bathroom wall, you might want to give that offered wisdom a little less weight.

Don’t (necessarily) dismiss advice out of hand. Use your best judgement. If the advice seems particularly radical, harmful, or destructive, give it a pass regardless of the source. But if, after spending several days climbing and hiking up a mountain, should you stumble into a cave where a wizened old hermit says, “The Oxford comma offers clarity,” go ahead and put that in your tool bag. It probably won’t hurt and you can always ignore the advice later.

Check Other Sources

Sometimes, you might receive advice that is clear in the directive, but unclear as to why. For example, I used to hear people say all the time, “Show, don’t tell!” The advice is sound, but no one told me where the advice originated, or why it was important. Later, checking with other writers, I learned quite a bit more about the notion, furthering my understanding and making me a stronger writer.

Writers love talking about writing almost as much as they love talking about their stories. If you open a fortune cookie that says, “You don’t have to put two spaces after a period anymore,” it’s perfectly acceptable to check in with your other writer friends. Post a message to social media. Ask your writer’s group. Writers are full up to the back of their throat with opinions, and they will share them with you if you ask. They will share them even if you don’t ask. Just look at this blog.

Also, don’t be afraid to look ignorant. I’m going to spoil one of the themes for this month, which is this: no one really knows what they’re doing. We’re all guessing, taking stabs in the dark, performing rituals to fill the blank page, hoping that the magic continues to work. This is a truth I’ve found present throughout the industry, from writers, to agents, to editors, to publishers, to marketing… no one really knows what works and what doesn’t. If we knew, we’d all be doing it. There are truths we cling to (like the advice of “show, don’t tell”) but some books succeed, some don’t, and everyone is guessing as to why.

So, ask your questions. Don’t be afraid to look ignorant, because we all are.

Be Leery of Absolutes

When someone gives you advice that starts with the words “never” or “always,” take it with a grain of salt. You don’t always have to show. You can use adverbs, sometimes. Your sentences don’t have to be perfect. Passive voice from time to time is just fine. Beware absolutes.

If someone tells you, “Never start a book with someone waking up with amnesia,” consider the advice. One of my favorite series, The Chronicles of Amber by Roger Zelazny, begins with Corwin waking up in a hospital room, completely unaware of who he is or where he came from. It’s an older story, and the trends have changed, but there are other examples of stories starting with an amnesiac. If you have a story idea that would be amazing with that type of beginning, write it. Just be aware that you might have a hard time getting the right people to read that story because you’re bucking the current trends.

Trust Your Gut

This applies across the board, from evaluating advice to crafting your story, from writing a query letter to accepting an offer. None of us know how to write an automatic best seller, but our instincts are often sound. Your eyes can deceive you. Don’t trust them. Search your feelings, you know this to be true…

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, instincts. Listen to your gut and use your best judgement. It might save you from destroying your work. Or, it might be the thing that elevates your story to the next level.

JK Rowling would not be where she is today if someone hadn’t trusted their gut and published a story that no one at the time thought publishable.

Experiment

Sometimes, the best way to evaluate writing advice is to science the hell out of it. Take the advice and a blank page, put them together, and see what comes out on the other side.

As writers, we sometimes forget that we do not have to share or publish everything we write. It is healthy and good to write something you know you’re going to throw away. It’s practice. It’s an exercise. It will strengthen your skills and free your mind from the stress and pressure of trying to perform.

If you get a beta reader that says, “I don’t know… I think this would be a lot better in first person, present tense,” don’t threaten or harm this obvious heathen. Maybe they’re right! If you have the time and patience, take your opening and try rewriting it in another document. See how it feels.

You should not take every piece of advice offered to heart, and you also should not spend all your time experimenting. At the end of the day (or by the end of the month) you have word counts to achieve and stories to finish. If your vision is clear, trust your instincts and stick with your original plans. However, know that some of the greatest growth spurts you will achieve come after doing something that challenges you.

It’s October, and you know what that means. Blog posts, all month long!

Why am I doing this?

The main reason is to prepare for National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo) which is next month. I use Blogtober to help put me back in the practice of writing something every day. There is no word count goal. There is no extra pressure to create a coherent narrative. The exercise of finding time every day to write SOMETHING shows me the places in my schedule I’ll be able to utilize next month when I try to write something more meaningful.

Also, this is the one month in the year where I really take my blog seriously. Previous Blogtobers produced positive results. So we’re doing it again.

What will I talk about this month?

I’ve succeeded at Blogtober three previous years, and I discovered the best thing I can do is prepare my topics in advance. In the past, the topics were all over the place. This year, I’ve chosen a theme: writing tips.

While looking at posts from last year, I stumbled on this one titled Pithy Writing Advice. I think it’s one of my better posts, so I’m going to try and make this month similar in tone and usefulness.

Here is a full list of topics by day:

1. Blogtober 2019 (this post)
2. How to Evaluate Writing Advice
3. How to Outline
4. How to Discovery Write
5. Writing Science Fiction
6. Writing Fantasy
7. Write what Matters
8. Internality and Show vs Tell
9. How to Write a Fight Scene
10. How to Write Dialog
11. How to Write Humor
12. Descriptions – Pacing and Characterization
13. Story Idea Myths
14. Writing Different POVS – Pros and Cons
15. Overcoming Passive Voice
16. Overcoming Distancing Language
17. Sensitivity Readers
18. Trusting the Reader
19. Handling Alpha/Beta Feedback
20. Killing Characters
21. Writer Support System
22. Staying on Task
23. Handling Writer’s Block
24. Marketing and Writing to a Target Audience
25. Profanity and Other Ugly Language
26. World Building Pet Peeves
27. Writing a Compelling Character
28. Tone and Voice
29. How to Revise a Draft
30. Recovering a Lost Story
31. Nano Project: A Clean Slate

That’s a pretty compelling list, and I will probably stick with it. However, if you’ve been paying attention to current events, you should know an impeachment has begun. We’re living in very interesting times in the US. I may stray from the dedicated topic to share my views and write from the heart. Maybe on those days, I’ll write two posts: one political and one writing related. We will see.

I also have these four other topics which I might use in place of any of the ones scheduled:

• Tools – Scrivener
• Time Management
• Online Distractions
• Why You Should Write

I have plenty to say, and I mean to say something every day this month. That’s the goal and the plan.

Is that it?

Actually, there’s a few other things I want to mention.

In conversations with some of my online friends, I had the idea that maybe I should spend Blogtober serializing a story. Instead of coming up with the list above, I could write an outline with around 31 beats. Then all I’d have to do is stick to the outline and make this blog entertaining.

I nixed that idea for one simple reason: I’m already working on a novel. I’m about 25,000 words from completing it, and I want to finish it before November. I understand my limitations, and splitting my focus to draft two stories at once is beyond me.

Writing blog posts while working on a novel isn’t so bad. I think I could even edit one novel while drafting another. I do not think I can write a novel and a short story at the same time. Not while I have a full-time job.

Here, then, are my writing goals for this month in order of priority:

1. Finish the first draft of Synthetic Dreams, a story about two synthetic humans living on Earth about a century after the rise of The Singularity.
2. Write a blog post every day for the month of Blogtober
3. Create an outline for my next Nanowrimo project, A Clean Slate. If you have a really good memory, you might recognize that title as the story I tried to write for Nanowrimo back in 2012. I failed that year, and I want to try it again from the beginning. I still think it could be a really great story.
4. Attend World Fantasy 2019 in Los Angeles, which is from October 31st through November 3rd.
5. Plot out a short story to be serialized on this blog, perhaps in December or January.

That’s a full schedule, but it’s very achievable. Even though it sounds like a ton of writing, I can meet all my goals by writing around 1500 words a day. That’s significantly less than I achieved during Nanowrimo last year.

An Important Disclaimer

I’m going to be spending this month doling out writing advice. However, I am neither an expert nor a teacher. I have no formal education to support my advice. This exercise is not about my ego. I am not trying to tell anyone that what they are doing is wrong, and that my way is better.

All of the advice I will present this month is based on my experience and my opinions. These are the things that work for me. They are notions and concepts I think about when I try to work out a problem in my writing.

While I am open to hearing other people’s advice, I am not interested in getting into an argument in this space. That is not what this is for. Please leave comments as you like. You can even disagree with me. I’m just not going to entertain any debates on my blog. Not this month.

That’s it! Let Blogtober 2019 begin!

This is How You Lose the Time War is by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. I would have put their names in the title, but it was already comically long, perhaps cosmically long, and the book was very short.

My TL;DR review: I give it a 9 out of 10, and I’m only detracting a point because it’s short and I wanted more. Buy this and put it in your brain immediately.

This is the fourth of my reviews, and I saved the best for last. In fact, I’ll give you the order in which you should read the books I’ve reviewed:

1. This is How You Lose the Time War
2. Wanderers
3. Barsk: The Elephant Graveyard
4. The Big Sheep

Honestly, you should probably read the next Barsk book before reading The Big Sheep. The 7/10 I gave it might have been too generous.

Let’s get to the actual review.

I enjoyed Time War so much that I listened to it all in one day. I started it in the morning on my way to work. It hooked me and stayed in my thoughts all day. I continued listening on the way home, then went straight to my garage, hooked my phone to the big speakers, and finished it.

The audio book is only 4 hours long, so it wasn’t difficult to consume it this way. But still… it satisfied me, and I wish I’d read it sooner.

I love the form of the story. It alternates between regular prose and epistolary, the adversaries referred to as Red and Blue writing to each other as they move through time, working to ensure that one timeline wins over the other. I think all that information is on the cover, so none of that should be a spoiler.

The prose is rich and beautiful. The character voices are clear and compelling. El-Mohtar and Gladstone worked to create a pitch-perfect, tight story. Emotionally satisfying and never boring. I highly recommend you read it.

SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT

My spoilers will be pretty light, but they’re still spoilers. If you haven’t read the book yet, go do so and come back. I’d love to talk with you about this story.

Here we go…

I don’t think I have any real nitpicks. From the title alone, I knew time travel would be involved, so I knew that the final twist at the end would need to be some kind of causal or recursive play on the characters. That being said, even though the authors telegraphed it, they masked the twist with Red’s apparent death. They did this so well that I wondered if they were going full Romeo and Juliet.

The authors knew Time War bore a resemblance with Romeo and Juliet so they smartly hung a lantern on it. Unlike Shakespeare’s play, I believed the romance between Red and Blue. It happened organically and naturally over the course the novel, with each character giving and taking, crawling under the skin and into the heart of their rival.

Much of the beauty of the story is found within the small details. The description of a cup of tea. The unwinding of a note passed from one character to the other through the imperfections in the rings of a tree. The world building could be described as light, in that not a lot of time is spent explaining how the time travel works or what the ramifications of their time alterations look like.

In terms of the war, we’re told what the stakes are without really seeing them or even feeling them. Honestly, the war just becomes backdrop and window dressing. The real stakes are in the characters themselves, in how they’ll make their relationship work, or if they’ll make it work at all. From that perspective, the stakes are small, but because we fall in love with both characters, that doesn’t matter. I was invested in Red and Blue, so those were the stakes I cared about.

It’s an almost perfect little story that makes the absolute most of the form. El-Mohtar and Gladstone wrote something really special, and I expect to see it win awards.

After Wanderers, I needed something light. A palate cleanser, like a slice of ginger after a particularly strong piece of sushi. Michael Gallowglas sat across from me while I browsed Audible. He recommended Barsk, which I talked about last time. Audible’s recommendations came up with The Big Sheep, which I purchased at the same time as Barsk.

The title alone might have been enough to entice me. I read Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep last year, and though it is a product of its time with its casual sexism and racism, I really enjoyed the noir setting and gritty feel. It felt like a black and white movie in book form.

The Big Sheep is obviously a play on the title of the Chandler book, but it doesn’t have much else in common with the older story. The Big Sheep is set in the not-too-distant future, with flying cars and parts of L.A. descended into urban chaos. The protagonist, Blake Fowler, is a junior partner to a Sherlock-esque private investigator named Erasmus Keane. Keane insists that he be called a “phenomenological inquisitor.” Where Chandler’s story defines hard-boiled, taking itself seriously from cover to cover, Kroese created an action comedy.

My TL;DR review: The Big Sheep is mostly light and fun, sometimes suffering from tonal dissonance. It’s a 7/10 for me. It’s short enough that it doesn’t overstay its welcome, and I recommend reading it if you can do so without taking it too seriously.

SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT

I’m not going to go into too much in the way of spoilers, but still.

Also, I seem to keep my nitpicks for the spoiler section of all these reviews. Maybe that should be my warning? Oh well… you’ve been warned.

I mentioned tonal dissonance. The plot and the characters are painted with a bit of silliness, from the “phenomenological inquisitor” title to Keane duck-walking around a sheep near the beginning of the story and declaring that he’s measured the creature’s soul. Intermixed with the humor are scenes where the protagonist outright kills a couple of folks. During one scene in a park, to prove that he’s serious, Fowler shoots a bodyguard in the foot. It’s pretty well established at this point that the bodyguards in this book aren’t part of the larger plot. They’re basically bystanders trying to do their job.

The author overplayed the physical beauty of the damsel in distress, Priya Mistry, to the point that I think female readers might take issue with it. He doesn’t go so far as to describe her “breasting boobily” but it’s not far off, with Fowler being so dumbstruck by her that he can’t even hear what she’s saying when he looks at her. He has to spend an entire scene looking past her.

There is just a dash of passive sexism in this story, like an aftertaste from Chandler’s story. Only one woman has much in the way of agency, and that’s in the form of the main villain.

Like I said, it’s short enough that it doesn’t overstay its welcome, and I did have fun with the story. Kroese knew what story he was writing, and he did a good job. I didn’t have any problem with his craft, and it’s entirely possible I’m being overly critical around the feminist issues.

I wanted a lighter story, something I wouldn’t have to work that hard at, and this was exactly what I needed.

After Wanderers by Chuck Wendig, I needed something a little bit less intense. I wanting something lighter, something I wouldn’t spend quite so much time thinking about. How about a book about anthropomorphic elephants written by the man that founded the Klingon Language Institute?

If I had to describe Barsk in one word, it would be “rich.” Maybe even “savory.” Some of that may have had to do with the voice of the narrator, J. G. Hertzler. His reading was unhurried, and his voice had a husky, grandfatherly quality to it.

Just as the story starts with an artist working at the height of their talent, carving an image into wood, Dr. Schoen crafted a fantastic story full of nuance and exquisite payoff to each piece he sets up. On the surface, the description of the story sounds silly, and while there are moments of humor spread throughout the book, this is a serious story. Dr. Schoen didn’t cheat.

I wish I’d read this story sooner. Going in, I wanted a story I wouldn’t have to think about so much. In that respect, I did not get what I wanted, since I’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about this story since finishing it.

TL;DR — This is a fantastic book, and I recommend you read it. If I had to score it, I’d give it a 9/10.

I’m about to go into some plot points which may contain spoilers. If you have not read this book yet, this is a good time to close the tab.

SOME SPOILERS BELOW

Last warning. Don’t read below unless you’ve read the book.

Here we go…

There’s a lot going on in this book. The world building is both wide and deep. We see the relationship between the Fant of Barsk and the other hominid species of the rest of the galaxy. We also see how the Fant culture works on its own in how it treats Pizlo, my favorite character in the whole story. We’re treated to the spirituality, the politics, and the relationships of this world without heavy-handed exposition. It’s all woven into the story with a deft hand.

I admire Dr. Schoen’s patience. Early on, we find out that Jorl’s best friend, Pizlo’s father, committed suicide. We find this out when Jorl speaks to his friend’s ghost. It sets up the question: why would he do it? What could be so bad that this individual would take his own life, leaving behind his wife and child? By the end, we get the answer, and it is surprisingly satisfying.

All of the pieces fit together so nicely, sliding into place as the story unfolds, intricate as clockwork. But the writing itself isn’t dry. Questions are planted and answers are revealed naturally. Characters behave consistently, and they drive the plot.

The only thing that might detract from the story is the amount of alien terminology that the reader must pick up and discern. There’s quite a bit, and it made me nervous at the beginning. It’s not beyond reason, however, and it’s appropriate for this type of story.

Barsk isn’t afraid to go to dark places. At one point, dozens of older Fant are burned alive. One of these is a POV character. It is a dark scene, but it is not bleak. Dr. Schoen doesn’t cheat, but he’s not cruel to the reader.

This is a good one. I’m really glad I read it.

I listened to Wanderers on audio, and now I want to talk about it. The first part of this review will be light and spoiler free. During the second half, I’m going to go deep into some of the details. I’ll make it clear when I’m about to get into spoilers, so if you haven’t read this story yet, abandon this post at that point.

I’ll start with the TL;DR — Wanderers is great, and you should absolutely read it.

Chuck is a great writer, and if you’re familiar with his voice, it comes through strong and clear in this book. His descriptions are stellar. While other people might praise the strong characterizations and the intricate plot, I want to impress upon you that Chuck’s mastery of the craft is on full display in Wanderers.

I enjoyed the book so much that I bought the hard cover to give to Melissa to read. I bought the book twice. It’s that good.

From this point forward, I’m going to go into greater and greater details of the book. If you want to go into this story as blind as possible, this is where you should close this tab. If, on the other hand, you’ve read the story and you want to talk about it as much as I do, read on! Let’s have a discussion.

SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT

Are you still here? If you haven’t read the book yet, get out of here.

Okay. Let’s get into the meat.

Some of what I’m about to say is going to sound a little bit negative. The book is really good, though. Good enough for me to buy it twice and open this review with glowing praise. It’s not perfect, however, and while sometimes the beauty can be found in the flaws, other times, the problems are the gristle that gets stuck in your teeth, lingering with you long after the meal is done.

The story begins on a farm, following a teenage girl named Shana that has just a little bit too much on her plate even before the story fully begins. Chuck’s storytelling really shines here, succinctly giving us Shana’s world and her family dynamic in a way that doesn’t feel expository. We get her voice, her dilemmas, and a feel for the core of her character, which is what drives her to walk with the flock and become a shepherd.

Let’s talk about the sleepwalkers. From the beginning, they fascinated me. Their impenetrable skin and their ability to move continuously without eating or sleeping stood out. Zombie imagery is offset by the quirks of their physiology, such as violently exploding when their progress impeded.

That brings me to one of the flaws. A good deal of time is spent making the reader aware of these extremely unusual qualities. They seem supernatural, but the book goes out of its way to present a world of science and reason. All the characters that are part of the CDC are presenting in a convincing fashion, with terminology and approaches that ring true. A promise was made there would be a rational explanation for everything taking place in the story, but I found the reality of the sleepwalkers to be unsatisfying.

Nanobots do not explain how the sleepwalkers are able to continue walking for months and months without sleep or calories. Nanobots aren’t capable of keeping eyeballs from drying out. They can’t make skin impenetrable to needles. It’s a point that most readers aren’t going to stumble over, but after doing such a great job of presenting a rational, scientifically sound premise, this part of the story fell a little flat to me.

The world’s authentic reaction to the walkers was pitch perfect. Chuck depicted the slow, painful collapse of society in a very believable fashion.

The fully realized characters leaped off the page with strong voices, believable motivations, and distinct personalities. I cared about them. I didn’t always like them, but that’s part of what made them so real.

I need to talk about a scene that really bothered me. If I were going to give this book a rating between 1 and 10, I’d give it an 8. If not for this one part, I’d easily give it a 9 or 10. But this scene…

To properly frame it, I need to talk about two characters: Benji and Matthew. I related to both characters as men of science and faith. The science aspect played out more strongly with Benji, and the faith more with Matthew, but they individually embodied both. I projected myself into both characters and enjoyed the ride through their eyes.

In terms of conviction and force of personality, Matthew was the weaker of the two. I kept wanting him to steel himself and rise above the temptations placed at his feet. I looked forward to him doing right by his faith and his family.

I did not expect him to get raped by Ozark Stover.

This is the one thing that kept me from fully enjoying the book. Whatever flaws I mentioned regarding the nanobots, I could look past. But the rape? It bothered me. I couldn’t see a reason for it, other than shock value. It happened without warning.

If Chuck hadn’t done such a good job with the rest of the story up to that point, I would have stopped without finishing. I did stop listening for a couple of days. Then I returned and pushed forward. After that, I needed Chuck to deliver a narrative that justified that kind of unexpected and brutal content. I needed Chuck to stick the landing.

Did he? Well…

If you follow Chuck on Twitter, you might be familiar with his Heirloom Apple reviews. I certainly love them. The rape scene for me was like biting into a crisp, delicious apple, juice running down my chin, then looking down to find half a worm nestled in the fruit’s white flesh. Does it matter how delicious the apple is after that bite?

But… it was good. The ending was good. To me, not great. Probably shocking to some readers, but after the rape scene, my senses were dulled and I wound up fixating on little things that didn’t make a lot of sense if scrutinized too closely.

I think Wanderers is great. I recommend people read it. It’s a magnificent piece comparable to The Stand. My own feelings about the use of a rape scene for shock value aside, it is the product of a masterful writer working at the top of his game.