The challenge of writing science fiction after years of writing science journalism

So I'm finally pursuing my lifelong dream of writing science fiction. I pretty arrogantly and naively thought that given nearly 20 years of experience as a science journalist, writing science fiction might come easily to me. Couldn't have been more wrong.

So how is writing science fiction different from writing science journalism? Well, first and most obviously, in science fiction, you have to make things up. Since I have years and years of experience in a job that emphatically stressed that I not make things up, I do think that was a key mental block for me. I felt like I had to research everything I could to make sure everything except the actual fiction didn't ring false. It still often feels like squeezing blood out of a stone trying to complete a story. (Researching has its place, but writers often fall back on researching when they should instead be writing.)

Imagining a world is fine for me. I suspect that's true for most aspiring sci-fi authors — worldbuilding is the easiest and often the most fun part. But there's so much more to completing a publishable sci-fi story than worldbuilding. I think that's what brings down a lot of would-be sci-fi authors.

I do think my years of journalism experience are finally beginning to help me out. It took relearning some key techniques. To put it in a way that many veteran journalists will understand, a lot of my adjustments to my writing style have to do with craft, not art.

Most of journalism is craft, not art. There is of course art involved in things such as writing beautiful prose, but a lot of what sets expert journalists apart from beginners is knowing how to use the rules to your advantage, and knowing the rules well enough to exploit the loopholes or when to break the rules altogether.

I'm finding that much of writing fiction is craft, not art. I find this reassuring, since it suggests that with enough experience, I can hopefully learn craft that will help free up my art.

x) Questions.

At the heart of journalism are questions. When you get an assignment, you know the story you eventually write has to answer a number of key questions — all the varieties of who, what, where, when, why and how. You go out and try to get those questions answered as best as you can, and to also answer any more questions that pop up during the course of your reporting.

Creative non-fiction isn't all that different from regular journalism. Often you add the number of questions you ask to create an immersive experience — for example, "What was a person thinking or feeling?" or "What kind of sensory and other details can I provide to create a deep portrait of a character, place, time or so forth?"

To write publishable science fiction, I basically have to ask and answer questions I usually don't in journalism. For instance, I'm finding writing dialogue pretty difficult because I almost never put dialogue in news stories, and I wouldn't be allowed to modify or invent dialogue even if a news story did call for or permit dialogue, so that part of my writing brain is under-developed or atrophied. I have to learn how to ask questions such as "How can I make this dialogue not sound stilted?" or "What can I replace that adverb with?"

If you want me to write explanatory text, I can do that all the live-long day, since that's what I do for my job. But fiction usually asks authors to show, not tell, so I have to ask myself different questions in order to write in a way that shows, not tells.

Devising characters is currently turning out easier than I thought, since I did take some courses back in journalism school on immersive journalism. You ask characters all kinds of biographical questions and rely on the most interesting answers. What I currently find challenging is devising ensembles of characters that have interesting interactions. I'm used to acting as a biographer as a journalist, but not arranging them in ways that can drive a story forward, since I can't really do that as a journalist. (At best, I can try and find interesting ensembles of characters as a journalist, but that's not usually the kind of journalism I write.)

x) Structure.

When it comes to writing news, after you've answered as many of your questions as you can, you figure out what information you do and don’t need to present, you structure the order in which these answers appear, and you tailor the words, sentence length and other features of these replies that are most appropriate for your readership.

The veteran journalist will know that learning how to properly structure a story will save them a great deal of effort. Basic structures include the Inverted Pyramid, the Martini Glass, the Kabob typical of Wall Street Journal features, and so on.

With creative non-fiction, writers play around with the structures of stories a little bit more. But when it comes to the wide world of fiction, there are a huge amount of structures available, especially if you consider the kinds of experimental structures often seen in literary fiction.

Obviously I'm familiar as a reader with all kinds of structures in fiction, such as the three-act structure, the hero's journey, and so forth. What's tricky with using any structure in writing is to not seem formulaic. Journalism is much more forgiving in this regard than fiction — no one really cares if you're formulaic in journalism, but it can be a real problem in fiction.

I'm growing to understand some of the structures used in the dialogue of some of my favorite fiction. Aaron Sorkin definitely has some formulas in his dialogue for "The West Wing" that are effective but tiresome after a while. I liked some of the dialogue in Satoshi Kon's "Paprika” and in William Goldman's "The Princess Bride." I'm thinking of really inspecting conversations in classic comedies such as Marx Brothers movies.

The structure I'm finding most comfortable right now is mystery. Maybe that's due to years of reading and watching mysteries — Sherlock Holmes mysteries were probably my first love before science fiction — or maybe it's due to a few years I spent as a crime journalist. The mystery genre has a host of structures with which one can tell intriguing stories, and I'm finding it helpful to use aspects of those structures in stories that one wouldn't at first glance think of as mysteries.

In the latest short story I've written, tentatively titled "That Idiot Show," I use a three-act structure, but I varied it a bit to keep it interesting for myself. The first act introduces the protagonist, the second the deuteragonist, and the third is essentially a dialogue where they have equal footing. The act breaks are basically variations on a theme as well — "Get me out of here," "Get me out of here even if it kills me," and "Should I get her out of here?" A simple structure, but one I think works for this story.

In terms of getting a hang of the basics of structure and other aspects of craft in fiction, the books I've found most helpful are Hallie Ephron and Sara Paretsky's "Writing and Selling Your Mystery Novel" and Writer's Digest's "Crafting Novels & Short Stories." They've really helped me look at fiction writing in a no-nonsense kind of way.

x) Drama.

A key problem in switching from the kind of science journalism I'm used to writing to science fiction is drama. Readers of the kind of science journalism I'm used to writing are used to the payoff simply being "That's new!" or "That's weird!" Although science journalism has kept me abreast of a lot of the latest discoveries in science, most of those discoveries do not in and of themselves suggest the kinds of conflict or characters that I would personally want to write about in a sci-fi story. A cool idea is not enough for a story.

Ira Glass has mentioned that the core of many stories on "This American Life" is that someone did something wrong. That's what makes for an interesting story — a character and a conflict — as any playwright or screenwriter will tell you.

Personally, I mostly hate "ripped from the headlines" fiction. When it comes to science fiction, I want to write more fanciful characters and conflicts. As I mentioned before, I'm still struggling with ways to invent good characters and conflict, and to create ensembles of conflicting characters. Hopefully I'll get better over time.

Review: Charlie Jane Anders' "Victories Greater Than Death"

Just finished Charlie Jane Anders' "Victories Greater Than Death," her debut into the young adult market. This book is so very easy for me to recommend — it's the kind of novel I would have loved to read when I was a teen, and it's still a delight for me to read now.

Let's start with the basics. The heroine of the story, Tina, knows that although she looks human, she's actually of alien descent, and the clone of a legendary commander to boot. She also knows it's only a matter of time before she has to fulfill her destiny in space, although she fears the alien killers she sees in visions. It's a refreshing take on the entire fated-hero trope — she knows what lies ahead and is girding for it, as opposed to so many others whom no one bothered to warn.

After starting on Earth, the story really begins when Tina makes it to space. The story's crackerjack, full of a menagerie of intriguing aliens, a rich history going back millennia, clever technologies, a mysterious conspiracy, thrilling action, tragic losses, and gallivanting across the galaxy. Also, crushes!

The heroine is likable and written with care and affection. Quirky, awkward, scrappy and poor, worried about tests and bullies and a fraught but loving relationship with her mom, partying with street dance protests as best as she and her best friend can, I could imagine wanting to hang out with and protect them in equal measure. The plot and setting are exciting and fascinating, but the characters do not in any way get short-shrift, growing and changing in meaningful ways before our eyes.

Looking back, my only quibble with the book is the amount of time spent on Earth. The starting section is well-written, and accomplishes a stellar job of establishing Tina as a real person, as well as the ominous nature of what might lie ahead of her. And the shift to space is handled well, reminiscent in the best way of "Galaxy Quest" and "The Last Starfighter," where fans are glad to step into dream roles, despite the dangers involved. It's just that I really love all the stuff in space, and in retrospect I would've liked for the novel to get there sooner. But when I was reading the front section, I didn't regret reading it at all — it felt kind of like a John Hughes prequel to Star Trek or Star Wars.

All in all, "Victories Greater Than Death" is basically what you'd want YA SF to be, or just SF in general. It also has a thriller ending to pique interest in Anders' next book in the series. I can't wait.

Review: Susanna Clarke's "Piranesi"

Given her debut novel "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell," Susanna Clarke has attracted a great deal of anticipation for her new book "Piranesi." Her first book was a joy to read that drew many deserved accolades, a portrait of two magicians contesting in a world in which they reintroduced magic. The publicity copy for "Piranesi" suggested a book possibly much in the same vein:

Piranesi's house is no ordinary building: its rooms are infinite, its corridors endless, its walls are lined with thousands upon thousands of statues, each one different from all the others. Within the labyrinth of halls an ocean is imprisoned; waves thunder up staircases, rooms are flooded in an instant. But Piranesi is not afraid; he understands the tides as he understands the pattern of the labyrinth itself. He lives to explore the house.

There is one other person in the house-a man called The Other, who visits Piranesi twice a week and asks for help with research into A Great and Secret Knowledge. But as Piranesi explores, evidence emerges of another person, and a terrible truth begins to unravel, revealing a world beyond the one Piranesi has always known.

After reading "Piranesi," my verdict is that it may prove a challenging book to anyone who is not already a fan of Clarke, and potentially a demanding novel for her fans as well. If one is willing to persist through its beginning, it unfolds in an intriguing manner, but it can prove taxing up until that point.

My opinion seems contrary to many of the novel's cover blurbs:

“Piranesi is a gorgeous, spellbinding mystery that gently unravels page by page. Precisely the sort of book that I love wordlessly handing to someone so they can have the pleasure of uncovering its secrets for themselves. This book is a treasure, washed up upon a forgotten shore, waiting to be discovered.” ―Erin Morgenstern, NYT bestselling author of THE STARLESS SEA and THE NIGHT CIRCUS

“What a world Susanna Clarke conjures into being, what a tick-tock-tick-tock of reveals, what a pure protagonist, what a morally-squalid supporting cast, what beauty, tension and restraint, and what a pitch-perfect ending. Piranesi is an exquisite puzzle-box far, far bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.” ―David Mitchell, New York Times bestselling author of CLOUD ATLAS

“Readers who accompany [Piranesi] as he learns to understand himself will see magic returning to our world. Weird and haunting and excellent.” ―Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review

“Clarke wraps a twisty mystery inside a metaphysical fantasy in her extraordinary new novel . . . Sure to be recognized as one of the year's most inventive.” ―Publishers Weekly, Starred Review

“As questions multiply and suspense mounts in this spellbinding, occult puzzle of a fable, one begins to wonder if perhaps the reverence, kindness, and gratitude practiced by Clarke's enchanting and resilient hero aren't all the wisdom one truly needs.” ―Booklist, Starred Review

These are excellent reviews, but I wonder if "Piranesi" would have gotten this stellar reception if it wasn't for memories of "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell."

Let me talk about the book itself. "Piranesi" reminds me most of James Stoddard's "The High House" and the rest of his Evenmere trilogy, as well as Jorge Luis Borges' "The Library of Babel." (There are echoes of many other works of Borges in “Piranesi,” most obviously “The House of Asterion” and “Labyrinths.”) Both "The High House" and "The Library of Babel" are about characters trapped in buildings with infinite interiors — the latter carries with it a hint of madness and despair that is also seen in "Piranesi." All three feel reminiscent to me of authors such as Lord Dunsany — what fantasy used to be like before Tolkien and Howard.

The name of the novel refers most likely to Giovanni Battista Piranesi, an Italian artist famous for his striking engravings of Rome and of "Imaginary Prisons." One cannot help but inspect his art and picture its dramatic spaces while reading "Piranesi" — an imposing atmosphere Clarke supports with her words. (Giovanni Battista Piranesi’s son, Francesco Piranesi, similarly created beautiful engravings depicting monuments and ancient temples.)

At first "Piranesi" is quite promising — it opens with fascinating, odd characters and haunting, engrossing halls. However, as the novel unfolds, the uncanny nature of the characters and setting take on a disturbing edge, as if the world and its people have lost their minds. The protagonist seems to have no past and no memory. Conversations, when they do occur, can feel disconcerting and laced with dread. Objects appear mysteriously. It can all feel like a fever dream.

For the first third of the book, "Piranesi" can feel very lonely. Not much happens for long stretches of time. The protagonist observes and muses, but does very little, and for the most part, has no one to interact with. It reminded me of a cross between Tom Hanks' "Castaway" and much of David Lynch's oeuvre. If that's your jams — and for many people, that is — then you'll enjoy this part of the novel. Others might find it difficult not dropping this book.

Eventually the story takes a turn. Drama and answers enter the picture. The ideas that Clarke presents are fascinating ones, the character decisions and dialogue intriguing and rewarding. But it takes about a third of the book — 90 pages — to reach this point. Moreover, although the protagonist’s reactions to these discoveries are understandable, I also found them somewhat annoying. Still, the book does build to a series of satisfying revelations. It ends well enough.

All in all, “Piranesi” is a very different book from "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell." I found it intriguing and difficult, in places vexing and dull. If not for Clarke’s reputation, I find it difficult to believe “Piranesi” would have survived in this form to publication. As is, I do think dedicated readers will find it worthwhile to champion. I see it spawning arguments over its merits, and perhaps that’s what art should try and do sometimes.

Favorite SF&F of the past 10 years

I know I am going to miss a few titles, but here’s a list to give anyone who’s interested some idea of SF&F that I’ve enjoyed in the past decade or so. Hopefully you may find something you haven’t discovered yet that you might go on to really enjoying. (Since I’ve restricted this to past decade, obvious choices for favorite SF&F such as Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein and many others are not included.)

  • Katherine Addison's "The Goblin Emperor.” I’ve reread it at least three times now.

  • Martha Wells’ “All Systems Red” and the rest of The Murderbot Diaries.

  • Naomi Novik's "Spinning Silver."

  • Brandon Sanderson’s “The Emperor’s Soul” and the rest of his oeuvre.

  • Frances Hardinge's "A Face Like Glass" is very weird, fun and full of twists.

  • Ann Leckie’s “Ancillary Justice” and the rest of her Imperial Radch trilogy.

  • Jim Butcher’s “The Aeronaut’s Windlass.” Looking forward to that sequel any day now.

  • Carrie Vaughn's "Bannerless" and sequel.

  • Makiia Luciers "Tower of Winds" and sequel.

  • Kij Johnson's "The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe."

  • Erin Morgenstern's "The Night Circus.”

  • Mary Robinette Kowal's "The Calculating Stars" and the rest of her Lady Astronaut of Mars series.

  • Suzanne Palmer’s “Finder” and sequel.

  • Arkady Martine’s “A Memory of Empire.”

  • Alastair Reynolds’ “Revenger” and sequels.

  • Becky Chambers’ “The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet” and sequels.

  • Robert Jackson Bennett’s “City of Stairs” and the rest of his oeuvre.

  • Andy Weir’s “The Martian.” Yes, an easy one, but it’s still good.

  • Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One.” It was fun.

  • Karl Schroeder’s “Stealing Worlds” and “Lockstep.”

  • Ken Liu’s “The Grace of Kings.” Haven’t read the sequels yet.

  • All of Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigon saga. (Okay, this is a cheat, since I read most of the saga earlier, but she’s put out three novels and a novella in the Vorkosigon saga in the past decade.)

  • John Scalzi’s “Lock In” and most of his other work.

  • Aliette de Bodard’s Xuya work.

  • Patrick Rothfuss’ “The Name of the Wind” and sequel. C’mon already!

  • Scott Lynch’s Gentleman Bastard series. C’mon already!

  • Saladin Ahmed’s “Throne of the Crescent Moon.“

  • K.M. O’Brien’s “The Sculpted Ship.”

  • David Brin’s “Existence” (based off his great short, “Lungfish”).

  • Terry Pratchett’s final books. Alas.

  • James Stoddard’s “The Back of Beyond.”

Review: James Stoddard's "The Back of the Beyond"

By any standard, the release of James Stoddard’s “The Back of Beyond” in January should have drawn as much acclaim as Tad Williams’ return to the world of “The Dragonbone Chair” and the rest of the Memory, Sorrow and Thorn trilogy. But it seems to have fallen between the cracks of the world so far, much like how wonderful books such as Barry Hughart’s delightful Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox have faded from view over time.

Stoddard draws from a different well that most current fantasy authors. His books often seem reminiscent of the works of Lord Dunsany and other predecessors of Tolkien and Lovecraft, given a slight updating to modern sensibilities and storytelling — perhaps the closest author I can think of is Peter Beagle. “The High House” and the rest of the Evenmere trilogy, with its house of infinite rooms that somehow reflects the entire cosmos, is cousins of a sort to Borges’ “The Library of Babel” and Susanna Clarke’s much-anticipated “Piranesi.”

With “The Back of Beyond,” Stoddard has showed he has matured as a writer, and I greatly enjoyed it. Take nine adventurers — mostly mortal, some not — and have them venture from the magical realm of Faerie, bound as it is by the familiar rules of Story, into the even more mystical realm known as the Back of Beyond. It’s a place where even denizens of Faerie dread to tread — a place so alive, everything from animals to trees, to every leaf of grass and drop of rain, to even the sun and the moon, has a voice.

Nine characters seems a bit much, but for the most part Stoddard fleshed them out over time to my satisfaction. I do feel his female characters are a bit weak.

All in all, the plot, setting and characters generally unfold in a charming manner. With an intriguing setting and solid storytelling, I do recommend this.

The underlying milieu of "By the Will of the Gods"

There are two classic forms of science-fiction storytelling typified by “Star Trek” and “Sliders.” In one, a crew travels from world to world, encountering and interacting with fascinating alien cultures. In the other, the same holds true, only the cultures are human, not alien, representing alternate histories.

If not handled carefully, a “Star Trek” kind of story can wander into ‘planet of hats’ situations, but when done well, the result can be acclaimed “Star Trek” episodes such as “Darmok.” The real weakness of “Star Trek” storytelling is related to production costs — it makes no sense that all these alien races are basically humans with funny ears, noses or foreheads, close enough to interbreed. At the same time, the fact they do resemble humans is part of the strength of these stories, because these exotic cultures can clearly reflect on the human condition.

In contrast, a weakness of the “Sliders” kind of story is that multiverses are potentially composed of an infinite number of parallel worlds. It’s overwhelming, and if anything can happen, then everything can seem boring. There are, of course, ways that writers have found to deal with this concern, but it remains a challenge.

The milieu of “By the Will of the Gods,” in which I hope to set many more stories, aims to take what’s best about both “Star Trek” and “Sliders” stories. In this milieu, countless worlds across the Milky Way were seeded with humans, and each of these human lineages was made unique in some way. At times these differences are relatively minor, such as having two moons in the sky instead of one; at times they are major, such as everyone being immortal.

As such, you get the potential for stories like “Star Trek,” except it makes sense they are all human. And you can get “Sliders” kinds of stories, without getting swamped by infinite possibilities. Of course, you have to deal with questions such as who scattered all these different human lineages across the galaxy, and why, but that can lead to interesting stories as well.

Susanna Clarke's "Piranesi"

Just got approved for my first book from NetGalley, and it’s Susanna Clarke’s “Piranesi.” Am quite excited to read it.

Susanna Clarke’s “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell“ was an extraordinary tour-de-force. What struck me the most about it was the delicacy of it — the way it painted its world in deep and subtle colors, making the fantastic all the more striking. (The televised version was utterly uncharming to me.)

The back-of-the-book description of “Piranesi” reads as thus:

“Piranesi's house is no ordinary building: its rooms are infinite, its corridors endless, its walls are lined with thousands upon thousands of statues, each one different from all the others. Within the labyrinth of halls an ocean is imprisoned; waves thunder up staircases, rooms are flooded in an instant. But Piranesi is not afraid; he understands the tides as he understands the pattern of the labyrinth itself. He lives to explore the house.

“There is one other person in the house-a man called The Other, who visits Piranesi twice a week and asks for help with research into A Great and Secret Knowledge. But as Piranesi explores, evidence emerges of another person, and a terrible truth begins to unravel, revealing a world beyond the one Piranesi has always known.“

Looks crackerjack.