2022 has been a weird year, writing-wise. I’ve spent nearly all my writing energy on a forthcoming comedy/fantasy/baking/isekai/eldritch-horror game co-written with James Beamon. (Look for that from Choice of Games in 2023, by the way!)
That and some freelance nonfiction accounts for nearly all of my written output this year, so it’s been easy to feel like I haven’t done anything. It’s a little surprising, then, to look through what I had published this year!
I had seven original short stories and one game released this year, as well as the first few chapters of a second game.
Here’s a brief run down, with links when available!
2022 Short Stories
“The Spread of Space and Endless Devastation” (Lightspeed, December)
The daughter of the Minotaur lives on. Will she ever step out of his shadow—or the labyrinth? A fantasy story of roughly 1000 words inspired by the art of Leonora Carrington and the stories of Jorge Luis Borges.
(Content notes: violence, emotional abuse)
“Veracity’s Find” (Wizards in Space, November)
“Veracity’s Find” – Wizards in Space 8, November 2022
A woman living on board a world-spanning orbital station goes on a treasure hunt to get over a break-up. Will what she finds there help her or make her feel worse? More importantly, will Station ever keep its weird ideas to itself? A science fiction story of around 1600 words.
(Content notes: low self-esteem)
“What Not to Do When You’re Polymorphed and Stuck in a Time Loop” (The Sprawl, October)
What do you get when you drink a polymorph potion and suck the essence out of powerful mages in a desperate attempt to get out of a time loop?
It sounds like the start of a highly specific and very strange joke, but it’s also the concept behind this weird little genre-bender of 750 words.
“The Nature of Stones” (Prismatic Dreams, June)
“The Nature of Stones” – Prismatic Dreams, All Worlds Wayfarer, June 2022
A quiet science fantasy story of 3000 words about childbirth, relationship conflicts, and negative self-talk, set on a planet where there’s no concept of gender and giant boulders drift slowly down from space to crash in the ocean.
(Content notes: brief suicidal ideation)
“The Calligrapher’s Granddaughter” (Haven Speculative, May)
This far-future space opera features AI, drones, golden retrievers, and sly (or not so sly) references to the work of Ursula Le Guin and Iain M. Banks. Approximately 4100 words.
(Content notes: accidental poisoning… sort of)
2022 Reprints
I had three stories reprinted this year as well, one as an audio reprint:
“How They Name the Ships” – 750 words, Flash Fiction Online. First published in Frozen Wavelets in 2020.
It’s your first year trick or treating alone. Will it be your last?
Trick or Treat or Trick or Treat or Trick is a parser game about time loops and trick or treating, written for Ectocomp 2022 in October. It’s set in the 90s, hence the eye-watering cover art.
The game scored dead last, probably because it was my first time writing anything in Inform (the game engine I used) and I decided that it wouldn’t be challenging enough without introducing weird time loop mechanics. For some reason?!
I’ve fixed the (many!) bugs that were present in the competition release and introduced a hint system, which I hope makes this more entertaining to play. If you enjoy interactive fiction, or are curious what exactly it is, check it out!
“Library of Worlds” (Storyloom, Ongoing)
A demon lord in the library?!
Inspired by my love for isekai anime and my library career (sort of, anyway!), “Library of Worlds” is a cozy reverse isekai fantasy visual novel. That’s a lot of adjectives — basically, it’s a game where you talk to various characters from a fantasy world have been reborn in our own, but without the seriously high stakes and tension that are common to certain types of fantasy stories.
The first six chapters are now available to play, and I anticipate publishing another five each in January and February, bringing the story to its completion.
Also, check out that gorgeous cover the Storyloom art team put together for me. Wow!
The Storyloom site is in beta and all games are currently free to play, but getting to a specific title is a little tricky still. If you want to try this one out, I recommend clicking the link, signing up for an account, and then coming back here and clicking the link again.
2022 Submission Statistics
Seven stories and three reprints published in one year sounds like a lot.
Wow, I must be so successful! The sting of rejection banished from my writing practice for good!
Well, not so much.
My secret (it’s not very secret) is that I write a lot of very short fiction and I make a lot of submissions. That means I net more accepted stories than I would if I rarely sent things out, but it also means I get a heck of a lot of rejections.
Here are this years stats:
Stories Started: 6 (all flash)
Stories Finished: 3 (mostly flash)
Words Written: ~150,000 (almost all in the choicescript game)
Submissions: 220
Acceptances: 15 (some from 2021 submissions, some for things that will come out in 2023 — or beyond)
Rejections: 140 (9 personal, the rest forms)
Pending: 42 (as of late December when I’m writing this post — most will likely be rejections)
According to Duotrope, which I use to track my submissions, my acceptance ratio for the year is just under 9%. (Duotrope doesn’t have every single one of my submissions, which is why the numbers above don’t add up properly, so my acceptance ratio is probably lower in reality.)
That’s actually about where it’s been since 2019, and my submission numbers per year are about the same too. To put things into perspective, this means if I’d only submitted the seven stories I had accepted, I wouldn’t have gotten any acceptances. (Yes, I know that’s not how statistics work.)
For most people, 217 submissions in a year is kind of bonkers, although I definitely know authors who submit more stories and poems each year! I’ve set myself a goal of 15 submissions a month since about 2020. For me, that’s a relatively easy task because:
I write primarily flash fiction and short stories that are on the shorter side.
I have a pretty decent stable of published short stories built up from my ~10 years of submitting (Just under 70 stories published as of December 2022) so I can send out lots of reprints.
If you’re a writer yourself, I’d love to hear from you about short stories you had published this year!
“The Spread of Space” focuses on a couple of other tropes I find myself returning to — either as a reader or an author — time and time again:
Found families
Ships/AIs with feelings
Parenting feels
Learning to let go, even when it hurts
It’s also got an ensemble cast, with a crew of colourful characters — something I’m particularly amused about in a 1200 word story!
We’ve got Kala, a historian with a tendency for self-insertion. Eun-ja, who is obsessed with dramas. Iope, the crew’s well-intended heckler. And of course there’s Zander, essentially the kind of person who feels he has to keep everyone else on track and is perpetually tired as a result.
The story follows the crew (and, of course, Ship!) as they examine a newly rediscovered asteroid out on the edge of known space, complete with a mysterious ancient ruin that seems to have been inhabited all too recently and weird alien writing.
But what’s in the cellar? Why does Zander keep going down there? What does it all have to do with time loop stories?
It is somehow October, and I have a new piece of science fiction poetry and a new piece of flash fiction out on the same day!
Do you like time loops, Regency dramas, mother-daughter relationships, and sarcasm? How about classic SF robots and poetry?
If the answer to either of those is “yes,” “maybe,” or even just “What?”, then I am happy to introduce you to “What Not to Do When You’re Polymorphed and Stuck in a Time Loop” and “The Three Laws of Poetics,” which came out this month in a brand new and a solidly established magazine, respectively.
Flash Fiction: Of Time Loops and Tea
First up, what do you get when you drink a polymorph potion and suck the essence out of powerful mages in a desperate attempt to get out of a time loop?
The Prague Astronomical clock, a medieval clock that probably doesn’t involve time travel. (Used under a CC-BY license from George M. Groutas)
I’m particularly excited to be in the first issue of the magazine, which has a focus on queer, feminist, anti-colonial content. If that sounds up your alley, definitely go check out the full contents of the issue. It has a bevy of fantastic poems and stories! (I hear a print version is in the works, as well.)
If you like this story, you might also enjoy some of my other published fiction, since this isn’t the first zany thing I’ve written that messes about with time travel tropes.
My other new publication is a short piece of science fiction poetry titled “The Three Laws of Poetics,” appearing in the November/December issue of Asimov’s as well as for free on their website.
If you’ve ever read Asimov’s short fiction, it’s probably obvious just from the title what I was doing with this piece. And, yes, it’s just what you think: an examination of the classic SF author’s three laws of robotics, but applied to poetry and poets instead of (his vision of) robots.
If you’re an Asimov fan, I hope you enjoy it.
And even if you’re new to Asimov (or untinterested in his problematic stereotyping or personal behaviour, which I definitely understand) you don’t need to be a fan to read and hopefully enjoy the poem. It should stand alone.
What is Science Fiction Poetry?
As defined by Suzette Haden Elgin, who coined the term, science fiction poetry treats scientific matters with “rigor.” Today, the term describes poetry that uses science fiction tropes. Science fiction poetry is a type of speculative poetry, which also includes fantasy and horror poems.
Speculative poetry today
Today, most science fiction poets consider themselves speculative poets (or just poets!) and–as Elgin herself lamented as far back as 1999–her proposed definition of poetry that had “rigor” never realy stuck.
In fact, the topic of “what is science fiction poetry” is probably a good way to get into a debate with most people who write poetry with science fictional themes. If all that sounds like fun, check out the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA).
And if you’d like to read some excellent speculative poetry, the SFPA’s annual contest is a fantastic place to start.
I’ve had two new stories out in May and June, so to celebrate their publication I’m here with yet another blog post about things that interest me and probably nobody else!
First off, the stories!
Two New Short Stories
Debuting in May over at Haven Speculative, I’m pleased to present “The Calligrapher’s Granddaughter,” a short story set in early modern Japan. It’s got magic, calligraphy, snotty samurai, probably too much detail about kanji radicals, and found family feels. (Content notes for off-screen child abandonment and child endangerment, plus animal use.)
Next, appropriately published in June, is “The Nature of Stones” in All Worlds Wayfarer’s delightful Prismatic Dreams anthology. Billing itself as a “kaleidoscope of queer speculative fiction,” the anthology has 30 stories featuring queer characters in a variety of genres. My story is about childbirth, mythic astronomy (???), and unhealthy relationships. All set in a world with no concept of gender.
Please consider purchasing a copy of either or both of these great publications if you can afford it, and thank you for supporting small publishers! :)
What is Early Modern Japan?
Early Modern Japan roughly coincides with the period between 1580 and 1868. The Edo Period, with its strong central rule, relative peace, and cultural unification, is emblematic of Japan’s early modern period, to the extent that most historians do not use the term “early modern.”
Myths and Realities of Early Modern Japan
Only one of my new stories is set in early modern Japan, but it’s certainly a time and a place that I return to again and again for inspiration and as a setting for my short stories.
Even if you don’t know much about Japan, you’ve probably seen some kind of popular media set in this time period. Seven Samurai, anybody? Naruto? Shogun?
The inimitable Toshiro Mifune (right) as Sanjuro, a wandering samurai, in Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo (1961).
In fact, early modern Japan is so popular a destination for popular media—both domestically and abroad—that people unfamiliar with Japanese history often claim that Japan has always been a closed-off land of honor-obsessed samurai where nothing ever changed, the social class you were born into was inescapable, and rich lords sat in their tea houses as the shogun plotted against them.
That’s actually not true at all. Like most nations, Japan has a long and fascinating existence with many changes. The early modern period (generally dated between the late 1500s to the late 1800s) amounts to a decent but not outsized portion of its roughly 1400-year recorded history.
For instance, there was no shogun in the Heian period (794-1185) and samurai didn’t even exist as a class or a concept until sometime in the 12th century. Likewise, Japan certainly wasn’t a “closed” country until the Tokugawa shogunate enacted a policy limiting contact with the outside world in the 1630s, and even then it was impossible to totally block out foreign influences.
By the early modern period, however, genre movie staples like samurai and ninja were very much on stage (if only in the popular imagination), and rigid social structures with a powerful centralized government were well entrenched. Despite the somewhat tyrannical rule of the Tokugawa, though–or perhaps because of it–early modern Japan was also a fairly peaceful period in Japanese history, with less outright militancy than some other periods.
All of this is a very oversimplified description of Japanese history, probably to the point where it’s almost as inaccurate as American movies about samurai. (Okay, hopefully it’s not that inaccurate.)
If you’re interested in learning more about Japan during the rule of the Tokugawa, The Tokugawa World is a recent collection of scholarly essays exploring everything from the military to comic books in the time period. (That link will take you to WorldCat, where you can find it in a library near you. Yay, libraries!)
If a whole scholarly book sounds exhausting, the Wikipedia article on Edo period Japan isn’t terrible, either–just don’t tell anybody I suggested it or my librarian street cred will be shot!
“It’s insulting,” the Intelligence drone they’d been assigned to was saying, now. “Yes, we asked you to come here; yes, we asked to join the Federation. But that doesn’t give you the right to treat us like… like…” The drone’s iridescent carapace shuddered slightly, and their speakers gave a remarkably convincing approximation of sputtering with rage. “Like computers!”
From “A Difference of Opinion,” Kaleidotrope, April 2022
The spring 2022 issue of Kaleidotrope includes my story “A Difference of Opinion,” a short space opera in the tradition of Ursula Le Guin’s Hain Cycle and Iain M. Banks’s Culture series. The story features self-aware AI (with AI children!), far-flung federations with an interest in collecting different polities, and a take on the “battle of wits” scene from The Princess Bride. (Yes, that’s right: it’s got AI, space opera, AND poison!)
Although the term space opera started out as a pejorative one for low-quality science fiction, the subgenre is now long established as a force to be reckoned with. Especially in the last five or six years, space opera has been been having “a moment.” Books like Ancillary Justice, Gideon the Ninth and A Memory Called Empire (and their sequels), the Murderbot novellas (and a novel, now!), and all sorts of other great stories have received critical attention in the way of award nominations or wins.
If you’ve read some of those titles and are looking for more, I’ve pulled together a list of some of my favourite space opera settings ranging from classic titles by LeGuin to newer stories by equally amazing authors.
1: Aliette de Bodard’s Universe of Xuya
Aliette de Bodard’s Universe of Xuya is one of my absolute favourite settings regardless of genre and sub-genre. It interrogates
It has the delicious mix of high-stakes interplanetary conflict and intimate personal stakes that’s one of space opera’s most defining elements, all set in “Confucian galactic empires of Vietnamese and Chinese inspiration.”
If you’re interested in Classical Chinese and Vietnamese culture, or—frankly—just like amazing storytelling with memorable characters, lushly and lovingly described, you’ve definitely got to pick up some of Aliette de Bodard’s Xuya books and stories.
The Tea Master and the Detective, the Nebula-award winning novella that de Bodard describes as a “gender-swapped space opera Sherlock Holmes retelling,” is a great place to start your exploration.
2: Macross Seven
Okay, stick with me here. If you’re not into anime, you’ve probably never even seen that word before. But if you like your space opera with a healthy dose of romantic melodrama and “not taking itself entirely seriously,” you’ll likely appreciate this one.
The Macross franchise of anime (and manga, and games, and…) is well-known among anime fans for a few things, including love triangles, the integration of music into space battles, missile barrages that paint the sky with explosions, and fighter planes that transform into giant, humanoid robots. While its subgenre is technically mecha (“giant robot”) rather than space opera as such, the conflicts are often inter-cultural and inter-species as well as personal, so for my purposes I’m just going to go with it.
There are many different Macross series, but my personal favourite is Macross 7—probably also the one that takes itself the least seriously.
Macross 7 follows pacifist rock musician Nekki Basara as he embarks on a one-man quest to stop war and spread love by… flying a giant transforming space fighter jet / robot that seems to be powered by guitar.
Oh, also he fires speaker pods into enemy fighters and sings at them.
The grungy, catchy opening song, “Seventh Moon.” Yes, the whole series is every bit as ridiculous as this makes it look.
It may be goofy, but it’s a lot of fun. Give it a chance, and soon you too will be shouting 「俺の歌を聴けー!」 (listen to my song!)
Sadly, the DVDs are out of production and it’s not available for streaming, so you’ll have to do some work to find copies of this one.
3: Merc Fenn Wolfmoor’s Sun Lords of the Principality
Merc Fenn Wolfmoor is a Nebula award finalist whose work always moves me. Their Sun Lords of the Principality story series is no different.
Fair warning, some of these stories are super dark—at times, even unrelentingly brutal. But even at their grimmest, they have an inescapable core of humanity and empathy that gives them a warm place in my library. If you’ve ever asked yourself how you can possibly keep going with the world as messed up as it is, give these a try.
Also, I heartily recommend checking out some of Merc’s other work! Their latest publication, “Hero’s Choice“, is a humorous fantasy novelette that sounds like it’s just crying out for an isekai anime adaptation. Or for a broader taste of their work, try Friends for Robots, a recent short story collection.
4: Ursula K. LeGuin’s Hainish Cycle
Okay, Ursula K. LeGuin probably doesn’t need much of an introduction. With decades of acclaim under her belt at the time of her death in 2018, most people know of her work either from A Wizard of Earthsea or sci-fi novels like The Left Hand of Darkness. It’s the latter we’ll concern ourselves with here.
Le Guin’s science fiction stories usually (but not always) fall into what is referred to as the Hainish Cycle (although the author herself didn’t like the term “cycle”), a series which all deal with a spacefaring civilization called the Ekumen. The Ekumen, and its main planet, Hain, is a kind of Star Trek like galaxy-spanning confederation of planets dedicated to inclusivity and cooperation. Most of the stories and novels in the series deal with members of the Ekumen called mobiles, who go to newly-admitted or isolated planets and observe (while usually also agitating for membership and Hainish values).
A lot of SF fans have read The Left Hand of Darkness and The Dispossessed, but my favourites set on Hain are The Telling, set on a suddenly-capitalist-consumerist planet where the old way of doing things still lives on under the surface, and “Five Ways to Forgiveness,” five connected stories about slavery and social change. If you want something shorter and more fun, try “A Fisherman of the Inland Sea,” a short story that does some fun things with FTL travel.
If you can afford it, I recommend splurging on a copy of the Library of America’s Hainish Novels and Stories boxed set, a collection of Ursula K. LeGuin’s space opera. The two books contain all the stories and novels that feature Hain, including “Five Ways to Forgiveness,” which hasn’t previously been published in full. Also, they’re absolutely gorgeous to look at!
Bonus Story: “How They Name the Ships”
So there you have it: four space opera settings I enjoy!
I don’t have a fully-fledged universe of my own that spans dozens of published stories—yet. But if you like “A Difference of Opinion,” it does take place in the same setting as “How They Name the Ships,” published in 2020 in Frozen Wavelets. That one is only about 750 words, so it’s a quick read.
As the title suggests, it’s all about the power of names and naming—a theme that’s particularly important in a lot of LeGuin’s fiction, but one that also shows up a lot in other space operas. If you’re interested in the topic, you can see what I wrote about some of my favourite ship names from other space opera series in an older blog post: “Ship Names, Naming, and Identity in Space Opera.”
SF author Michael Swanwick recently posted that “New Zealand is giving away books they don’t own.” While I haven’t seen too much conversation about the New Zealand case yet, I’ve definitely seen other folks, including the authors guild and other large authors’ organizations, understandably angry and frustrated at a perceived threat to their livelihood, make similar hyperbolic, overblown, inaccurate claims in the past about library digitization programs. (For an example of a press release that presents the issue accurately and in-context, check out SFWA’s.)
I’m not here to say people are wrong to feel that way, but to say that this is not an accurate description of what’s going on. In reality, what the National Library of New Zealand is doing is donating some books it does own to the Internet Archive, which will digitize and lend them to one user at a time.
Incidentally, this post isn’t the first time the National Library of New Zealand has received negative attention for their project to deaccession a portion of their print collection–they’ve been drawing ire for it in one way or another since they announced the deaccessioning project in 2018. And the Internet Archive is definitely no stranger to controversy in the publishing world. (Vox has a good summary.)
But do authors really need to worry? Are libraries out to ruin us? Do they want us to starve while they benefit from our hard work unfairly?
In a word: no.
Super Basic Summary Version
The rest of this post is pretty long. If you don’t care that much but just want to know why people are mad and what you can do to protect your own rights, here’s a summary that covers the basics and sets right some misconceptions.
1. The National Library of New Zealand is getting rid of 428,231 books in a collection focused on authors and publishers outside New Zealand. They are not “giving away books they don’t own” because they do own these books and have purchased them. (Also, 200,000 of these are unequivocally in the public domain and only 775 titles in the list have a publication date of later than the year 2000.)
2. They are donating the books to the Internet Archive, a nonprofit focused on creating accessible digital archives of books and other forms of media. They are not digitizing the books themselves and then sending over the digital copies. Instead, the Internet Archive will take ownership of the print books.
3. The Internet Archive will digitize the books and let anybody with an account check them out. Loan periods vary, with access to downloadable files usually limited to two weeks. They are not letting anybody just download copies of the ebooks to keep. Also, during the time they are checked out nobody else will be able to access the files.
4. You can opt out of the National Library of New Zealand’s project by December 1st if your titles are affected. To check if anything of yours is in the overseas collection they are getting rid of, download this excel file from their website (warning: it is 45MB) If your title isn’t in that spreadsheet, then this won’t affect you personally and you don’t need to opt out of anything. To opt out, follow the directions here. (Basically, you just email them with the titles and their numbers on the spreadsheet and your email needs to match your author name).
5. If you miss the December 1st deadline, you can still have your materials removed from the Internet Archive, which has a takedown process detailed here.
So, what’s really going on in New Zealand?
What’s actually happening is that the National Library of New Zealand is donating deaccessioned print books (that is: books they do own and have paid for but decided they don’t need anymore) from one specific collection, the Overseas Published Collection (OPC), to the Internet Archive, a nonprofit organization that digitizes print books and lends the virtual copies to pretty much anyone.
The overall mission of the National Library of New Zealand is like any library’s: to make sure people have access to books and other materials. In 2003, the library’s mission changed slightly. As it describes in its collections policy for the OPC, the library started to focus more on published materials that relate to New Zealand and the Pacific. The OPC, which is a more general-purpose collection that holds items published outside the country and region, doesn’t fit with their new mission so much, so they are deaccessioning the majority of it.
The titles that they’re getting rid of are going to be donated to the Internet Archive, who will digitize them and lend the digital copies to anyone with a free account. Note that lending here means that only one person can access a given title at a time, not that anybody can download the title for as long as they want.
258,625 titles were published before 1924, making them almost certainly in the public domain
Of the remaining 169,606 titles, only about 60,000 were published after 1980. If you go up to 1990, that number drops to 10,000 titles
I could only find three titles in the list that were published after 2010, and all of them are from 2011
A note on this: the date field is a little buggy in the provided data, which is not unusual for Excel or library cataloguing. There are quite a few dates like “19996” or “Apr 19” (which turned out to be a date from 1931), which makes it hard to get a good handle on what’s in there in a short period of time.
Someone with more free time than me or better Excel skills can probably clean up the data or even create a web interface for searching it, but for the purposes of this blog post the point is: the vast majority of titles in this collection are 40+ years old. This is definitely not some scheme to rip off a bunch of recently-published books and deny up and coming authors the royalties they would be owed.
Help! My Titles are in There and I Don’t Like It
If you find your titles in the spreadsheet and are upset by the idea that the National Library of New Zealand is going to give your books to the Internet Archive, you have until December 1st to opt out of the donation.
The procedure for this is pretty straightforward. Basically, search the Excel file for your work and get the unique number from the spreadsheet. Send this to their email address with “proof of rights” and they will process your request.
Let’s say you’re Jane Austen and you’re very upset. Here’s what the process looks like from start to finish.
Step 1: Find Your Titles
Open up the Excel file and do a find for your name (or book title).
A good tip here is to highlight the author column and search for Lastname, Firstname to weed out false positives:
Now you have a list of your works.
Step 2: Get the Unique Numbers
Next, for each title you want removed, scroll over to column I, titled Our Unique Number. This is the number you need to send the library with your opt out request.
Let’s say Jane Austen doesn’t mind if they have Emma, but Pride and Prejudice? That’s right out. Here are the rows for the two copies of Pride and Prejudice in the collection. The unique number is the very last column on the right.
That screenshot’s hard to parse, so the numbers are:
995774093502836 995718743502836
Step 3: Email with the numbers and proof of rights
This sounds like the most complicated part. How do you “prove” your rights?
Fortunately, the library is not making this hard. All they want is an email sent to opcmanagement@dia.govt.nz containing the unique numbers from the spreadsheet and coming from the “persons or organisations whose names correspond with rights-holders’ names.”
So if your email is prettyunicornluvr69@yahoo.com, for instance, you might need to create a new account. Gmail lets you create free email accounts very quickly, though, so this should be pretty easy. If your name is already taken (it almost certainly is), try adding -author or -writer or something on the end. -professional is also a good one.
Jane Austen is, more’s the pity, dead.
But if she were alive today, she could create JaneAustenAuthor@gmail.com, paste her unique numbers into an email and send it off to opcmanagement@dia.govt.nz to let them know she does not want those titles sent on to the Internet Archive for digitization.
Step 4: But it’s After December 1st!
If you’ve missed the December 1st deadline to opt out but found your titles in the spreadsheet, you can still tell the Internet Archive you don’t want your stuff available for lending.
You can email info@archive.org with a DCMA takedown request and they will remove your items. This works for anything in their archives, by the way, not just books from this collection. You can even get your website unarchived if you want.
If you’re an author (like me!), the idea of the Internet Archive taking books they didn’t buy and handing out illegally made digital copies to anyone who asks is alarming.
Fortunately, that’s not what’s really happening here.
In late March of 2020, in response to the COVID-19 pandemic cutting off access to libraries for many people, the IA instituted what it called the National Emergency Library, a program that allowed anyone to check out digital copies of IA-owned books without limit.
Understandably, a lot of publishers and authors were angry about this. As a result, the IA (eventually) closed down the program in June of 2020. However, they didn’t stop lending books altogether. Instead, they implemented what’s called Controlled Digital Lending (CDL), a fairly new framework that libraries are using to try and loan out digitized versions of print titles they own instead of purchasing additional electronic licenses.
Before we go any further, I should clarify someting: in addition to being an author, I’m also a librarian. (There are quite a few of us author-librarians, in fact!) In my professional opinion as both a librarian and an author, the Internet Archive and digital lending in general are not the pirate-supporting catastrophe they seem to be at first glance. More on that in a moment.
The short version is that the IA only allows one person to check out each digitized title at a time, and they are only lending the same number of coipes of a title as they have print copies. If they have one print copy of your book in their collection, they will let one person borrow its digital version at a time. If they have zero print copies of your book, they can’t (and don’t) even digitize it, let alone lend it.
If you want the long version, well… keep reading.
All About Controlled Digital Lending
At the core of this controversy is a relatively new library framework for ebook management called controlled digital lending (CDL).
Although it certainly helps libraries provide digital content to their patrons without paying for expensive publisher licenses, CDL is definitely controversial in the publishing and writing worlds. This is nothing new. In fact, CDL only the latest bugbear in the ongoing smearfest between libraries and publishers over how to deal with ebooks.
In other words, for every one copy of the print book the library owns, one patron can use the book in either print or digital form at any given time.
A similar concept has been around in libraries for ages: Interlibrary loan, or ILL. (Sorry, librarians love acronyms.)
With ILL, a library lets patrons at other libraries borrow copies of books they own. Just like CDL, there’s a one-to-one relationship. Libraries aren’t photocopying entire books and sending them to other people to do whatever with. Also like CDL, the library has to own the item. They don’t just go grab some random copy from somewhere and sneakily mail it to another library.
With CDL, libraries are not making endless digital copies of random books they don’t even own. They’re taking print copies of titles they do own and making one copy accessible in multiple formats. Only one person ever has the title at once, whether it’s the print or digital version.
As a sidebar, I really hate that this is classed as a “war.” Publishers, libraries, and authors are all on the same side: we all want to connect written works with readers. Yes, there are some disagreements on the best way to do that, especially with relatively new, disruptive technologies like ebooks.
Basically, the tussle over ebook lending is best classed as growing pains. Publishers have costs they need to cover, but libraries can’t afford to pay for ebook licenses under the current models (the article linked above cites a $60 title with an ebook license that costs $240 for every 50 loans or every two years, for example, and I know from experience that if you want multiple patrons to read the book at once it gets even more expensive).
As a result, what libraries are trying is digitizing copies of books they already own and lending them to patrons that way. This isn’t, to the best of my knowledge, happening on a large scale in most places. Digitizing books takes a lot of time, and so does maintaining the digital version and the software to lend it.
Is CDL the best thing ever? I don’t think so. I don’t think any library does. It’s just the latest attempt to find a solution that respects publisher’s and author’s rights while still allowing libraries to serve the needs of patrons who can’t afford to buy their own books without using more money than they have in their own budgets.
Conclusion: Support Libraries, Support Publishers, Support Authors
New technologies are disruptive.
Although it’s odd to think of ebooks as “new,” they’re much newer than print books.
Project Gutenberg published the first ebook in 1971, but most ebook publishing didn’t catch on until the late 1990s and early 2000s at the earliest. Print books have existed in some form or another since the 9th century.
And as the ongoing debate about CDL proves, ebooks have definitely disrupted the traditional, print-based models of publishing and libraries both.
But trust me, libraries don’t want to put publishers or authors out of business (we kind of, you know, need them in order for us to exist as public storehouses of knowledge and entertainment) and no author I know of wants to shut down libraries (or at least, would ever admit it in public).
I’m not a publisher, but I’m pretty sure publishers aren’t interested in closing libraries down, either. Even those that are sometimes antagonistic toward library ebook lending understand why libraries have value and are supportive of them, generally speaking.
So, by all means, protect your rights to not have your titles digitized without your consent if you want. Get your digitized versions taken down from the Internet Archive. But please, please can we stop characterizing this as some kind of zero sum game where libraries are melodrama villains interested in twirling their moustaches while authors starve in the streets?
My original science fiction stories “The Future, One Summer Behind” and “Letters Submitted in Place of a Thesis to the Department of Chronology” are out in two anthologies currently available for purchase.
In keeping with the season, both are summery kind of stories, with big storms, summer jobs, festivals, and doomed short-term relationships because one of you is a time traveller from a post climate-collapse timeline!
You know, the usual.
Letters Submitted in Place of a Thesis to the Department of Chronology
When Miki signs up to study in the late 21st century, she expects to meet an entire culture of selfish fools who care more about their own luxuries than the state of the planet. The truth, of course, is much more complex than that.
Caught up in the thrill of experiencing real weather on her first trip out of the 32nd century’s carefully protected arcologies, Miki will have to choose between her studies and her present or her new friends—and humanity’s future on the planet.
Told in a mishmash of formats, including a thesis excerpt, emails, and actual letters, “Letters Submitted to the Department of Chronology in Place of a Thesis” is a story about deterministic pessimism, time travel, climate change, academia, and not giving up, with a queer/poly romance among the central characters.
The anthology also features stories by Laurence Brothers, Michael M Jones, Holly Schofield, Liam Hogan, and many other excellent writers. Go check it out!
The Future, One Summer Behind
Every year since she was six years old, Kirsi has dreaded Maricourt Crater’s summer festival. The festival’s famous darkroom—supposed to let you experience a thirty-second burst of your own future, one summer ahead—has only ever showed her a feedback loop of anxiety and anticipation.
Now that she’s out of creche, she’s really too old for kids’ stuff like that. As her summer job kicks off, though, she can’t help wondering: what if it’s her own indecision and uselessness to blame for what the darkroom shows her every year? What if she decides to change, before visiting the festival one last time?
The anthology has stories by L. Chan, Rebecca Gomez Farrell, Liam Hogan (yes, again!), Aimee Ogden, and many other great writers as well. This one is a breath of fresh air in these turbulent times and definitely worth picking up.
My story is technically a prequel to another story featuring Kirsi and Aala and the Maricourt Crater community, “Maricourt’s Waters, Quiet and Deep,” which came out in last year’s No Police = Know Future anthology from Experimenter Press. If you missed that one, now you have an excuse to go add it to your bookshelf as well!
I’m not just talking about new writers, either. Established professionals also need to revise their writing, often multiple times, before it does what they want.
Today, we’re going to talk about revision. What is it? How do you do it? When do you do it? How do you know when you’re done? Why revise at all? Isn’t it better to just finish a story, send it out, and start on a new one? Why hasn’t anyone sent me ten million dollars for my Great American Novel yet?
So many questions!
Why Heinlein’s 5 Rules for Writers Aren’t Great
If you’re a beginning writer — and especially if you’re writing science fiction — chances are good that at some point somebody has talked to you about Heinlein’s Rules for Writers.
If you haven’t run into these before, Heinlein’s Rules are five steps that writers can follow to make sure they are commercially successful. Here they are:
You must write.
You must finish what you write.
You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
You must put the work on the market.
You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.
On the face of it, these rules seem pretty straightforward.
William Shakespeare: Skilled, lucky, and definitely a reviser.
Obviously if you want to sell a story to a magazine somewhere, you do—at some point—need to actually write that story, finish it, and submit it. Likewise, if you stop submitting after your first rejection, you’re not going to sell very many stories unless you’re very lucky and very skilled.
Unfortunately, some people insist that you have to adhere to these rules completely if you want to be a success at all. Personally, I think that’s a mistake.
Anders suggests that the main problem with Heinlein’s Rules is rule number three: “You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.”
It may not be shocking, given that I spent most of a blog post talking about how there’s no One True Way to Write, but I agree completely with Anders on this point.
I think “refrain from rewriting” as a fixed rule is a terrible idea.
It might have worked well for Heinlein, but in my experience you’re going to miss out on a lot of opportunities for growth and opportunities for actually selling your stories if you never rewrite anything until after it’s sold.
That goes double for newer writers, who may still be figuring out what they want their writing to do. (I’ve been writing since 2008 and I’m still not certain.)
There are two aspects to the “no rewriting” rule that are worth pulling out further.
Is Revision Rewriting?
First, what does “rewrite” mean, exactly? Is it the same as revision, or is it something different?
“Don’t rewrite” doesn’t, in my opinion, mean you shouldn’t revise a story before you consider it finished.
Based on the rest of this so-called ‘rule,’ what Heinlein actually means here is that after you’ve written, revised, and otherwise ‘finished’ a story, you should start submitting and refrain from editing it ever again until and unless an editor offers to buy it if you make specific changes.
That’s very different from saying “revision is bad; don’t do it!”
But…
Why Rewriting can be Good
The arrows represent continuous improvement. The gear represents your anguish when people say, “are you still working on that novel?” Icon by Nhor, used under a CC-BY license.
I actually disagree that rewriting is bad, also.
Revision is an important part of “finishing” a story for me. But is a story ever really finished?
Sometimes, I’ve looked at a story after I’ve sent it out to every pro-paying market and thought, “Wow, no wonder nobody’s buying this. I need to make [obvious change]!”
It sucks to realize that only after you’ve used up your chances at publication, let me tell you.
Once I even found that I had inadvertently been submitting a story with all my italics deleted. Yikes!
Personally, I think distance from your story’s first draft makes revision much easier. If you can get that distance before you start submitting, great! If not, and you send the story to a few places before you sit down and figure out why it isn’t working, that’s also great.
An approach that works for me is to read through each story every few rejections and see if I still think the story works. If it doesn’t, I’ll sit down and revise it. If I still think it works, I put the lack of success down to a mismatch in editorial and authorial tastes and keep on submitting. (We’ll talk more about this in another post.)
If I get a personal rejection from an editor, I’ll do the same thing.
Do I always rewrite when I get a reject? No way. Who has the time?
Can an obsessive focus on rewriting stimy your writing career? Sure.
But putting forth “never rewrite” as a rule is misguided and every bit as harmful to your growth as a writer as obsessive tinkering is.
Why Revision Matters
There are two reasons why revision is important in my approach to writing. I think these reasons should hold true for most people, but it’s possible they don’t!
It’s hard for me to get the ideas in my head onto the page coherently
It’s hard for me to see the words on the page properly, because of the ideas in my head
In other words, writing is — for me — partly a process of reconciling ideas I thought were brilliant with the dreck that ends up on the page in my first drafts.
That isn’t always true. Sometimes I’m quite happy with stories after a single draft — even more rarely, I can sell them without doing more than fixing typos. These happy circumstances are few and far between, however. In almost all cases, a story I’m ready to submit is a story that’s gone through several rounds of revision.
The flip side of this, as Charlie Jane Anders points out in her discussion of Heinlein’s rules, is that building revision into your writing process gives you way more freedom in your first drafts.
If you only ever let yourself write a first draft and then submit it, you’re putting yourself under immense pressure to get everything perfect (or at least “good enough”) straight away. Not only is that very, very difficult, immense pressure does not lend itself to writing well or to finding joy and satisfaction in writing.
At least for me, I’m much more willing to experiment and innovate, and much more likely to be happy with stories I’ve written, if I give myself permission to write things that are confusing, obscure, or just plain purple as I work on a new story. The reason I can give myself that permission is because I know I’m going to go in later and revise, making the confusing stuff clear, the obscure stuff apparent, and the purple stuff more readable. (In the interests of full disclosure, I like purple prose as much as the next writer. It has its uses!)
The second item in the list above is similar to the first, but subtly different.
I want to get my ideas down, and I struggle with that. But what I also struggle with is figuring out if I’ve actually managed to get my ideas down.
Think of the expression, “You can’t see the forest for the trees.”
This is kind of the opposite.
Where do the trees end and the forest begin?
When I have an idea in my head of how a story goes, why a character does what they are doing, how the rules of a specific setting work, it’s sometimes hard for me to tell whether other people will be able to figure that out from what I’ve written down.
I know what the big picture (the forest) is, so I can easily see it when I look at the text on the page (the trees). Other readers, however, may just see ten specific trees, metaphorically speaking, planted in a confusing pattern.
Revision is where I make sure to put my signposts that say “Hey, reader, this is a forest!”
This second item also ties into my next revision practice: waiting a while.
The second part of that assignment was a little counter-intuitive. I also asked you to not submit it yet.
If you were wondering “What the heck?” about that, here’s the other shoe, ready to drop.
Distance from your story’s first draft makes revision much easier.
For me, it’s hard to break away from my idea of the story and see what I’ve actually written down until I’ve taken a break from the story.
While I do revise things as soon as I’m done writing the draft (or the second draft, or the third draft), I’ve also found I have a lot more success at telling effective stories if I wait a few weeks and then take one final revision pass before I start submitting to magazines.
That distance helps me read the words on the page with a more critical eye, because I’m just seeing what’s written down, rather than the ideas I had when I thought up the story in the first place. I’m much more likely to notice when I’ve introduced a character poorly, been vague about important setting details, or skipped over something that was obvious to me but not to readers.
Short version: by letting a story rest for a while before you decide it’s ‘finished,’ you can judge its merits and flaws a little more objectively.
My revision process
The revision process is going to differ for every writer. You don’t have to follow mine!
That said, this is what I do when I sit down to revise a short story:
Print out the story
Read through the story
Write revisions on the printout
Type up the revisions
Many other writers stick to a computer the whole time, and that’s fine too, obviously. Not everyone has a printer, and paper does get expensive if you’re doing a lot of revision.
My revision process is messy. I sometimes end up moving whole sections and crossing out large chunks of scenes, writing in half-sentences and deleting others. For me, it’s easier to do that on paper than it is on a screen, but your mileage may vary!
A lot of blue pen here, but this is pretty normal for my revision process.
Some other tricks for revision that I see thrown around include changing the font in your word processor to trick your brain into reading what’s there instead of what you think you wrote and reading the story aloud.
If you’re just starting on your writing journey, I’d encourage you to try different things until you find a process that works for you.
How do you tell when is a story ‘finished’?
Honestly, it’s difficult to tell when a story’s finished and ready to submit.
I usually see two answers to this question. One is a punchline, and the other is of questionable use.
How do you know when a story’s finished?
When it sells. (womp womp)
When your revisions are just changing it instead of improving it.
That joke answer is, honestly, the only way I can tell for certain. If an editor’s purchased a story, I’m done! Usually. Most of the time.
The second answer is good if you have enough experience with revision to know when changes you’re making aren’t actually improving the story.
But if you’re new to revision, or if — like me — you have trouble seeing what’s on the page and what’s in your head, it can be difficult to tell if a change is improving the story or not, so it doesn’t really solve the problem so much as restate it.
I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon — well, I put it back again.
Oscar Wilde
If your ‘revision’ is just messing with commas, it’s probably time to let the story go out into the wide, wide world.
Otherwise, you just have to give the story a rest, read through it, and see if it does what you want it to.
Another important step in revision — especially if you’re new to writing — is getting feedback from someone who isn’t you. I’ll talk more about that in another post, when we learn about giving and receiving critiques.
For now, let’s finish up with our assignment!
Assignment: Revise your story!
This week’s assignment is pretty straightforward:
Read the 500-1000 word story you wrote earlier (or some other completed story draft).
Revise it!
It might be that after reading the story, you think it’s already good enough. Usually, I’d be down with that. For the purposes of this assignment, though, try to find something you can improve.
Look for things that are confusing. Descriptions that are redundant. Dialogue that isn’t as clever or convincing as it could be. Ask yourself, as you read, if your goal for the story was met by its end.
What you revise and what your revision process look like is up to you, but at the end of completing this assignment, you should have a revised piece of flash fiction.
Got there already? Nicely done, writer!
But don’t rest on those laurels just yet. Now that your revisions are made, next week we’re going to learn about sending that story out to some other writers to see what they think of it.
Writing is a lot of fun, but can also be kind of a struggle.
Especially if you’ve gotten yourself into a negative headspace about something, it’s hard to get words on the page or revise them.
In this post, I’m going to talk about some strategies you can use to get past that feeling, commonly called “writer’s block.”
Is Writer’s Block Real?
Writer’s block is kind of a catch-all phrase writers use to describe any time they’re having difficulty writing.
People like to talk about writer’s block as if it’s some well-defined specific ailment, but — at least for me — I haven’t found that to be accurate. Instead, I tend to think of writer’s block as a symptom of some underlying issue, and not in itself the root cause that needs to be solved.
For example:
Are you burnt out from writing too much?
Did you read a great story that was similar to your own?
Is something in your life making it hard for you to focus on anything?
Did you get a negative response from a critiquer?
Is your imposter syndrome flaring up?
Are you troubled by the fact that you are secretly three dachshunds in a trenchcoat?
And so on. There are any number of things that can lead to writers being discouraged about their work and experiencing something like writer’s block. Because of this, it makes more sense to me to figure out what that underlying issue is, and try to fix that.
Photo used under a CC-BY license from Marcus Cyron
Of course, as they say on the Internet, the struggle is real. Whether you consider writer’s block to be a monolithic ailment with a single cure or just the symptom of something else, the end result is the same: the act of writing becomes a bitter struggle as you stare at that blank page for hours.
When writer’s block strikes, it’s easy to tell yourself you’re a failure as a writer and a human being, but neither of those are true. Writer’s block is perfectly normal, established authors deal with it all the time, and it certainly doesn’t mean anything at all about your worth or value as a person (neither of which are, spoiler alert, in fact tied to your writing and productivity).
So, how can you get past writer’s block? Here are eight different methods that sometimes work for me. If you’re stuck, try one or more and see if they help!
One: Fix the Underlying Cause
If you like my take on writer’s block as a catch-all phrase that stands in for any number of other problems, one approach is to figure out what those other problems are and try to resolve them. Of course, this is easier said than done. Some problems are pretty hard to solve, and there’s no guarantee that fixing anything will get rid of your inability to write.
All the same, if you’re experiencing writer’s block because you’re stressed about something in real life, it’s not a bad idea to try and take care of whatever it is that’s bothering you. If you’re lucky, doing that will help you write again. And even identifying that the problem is outside your writing can be a relief, which might relieve some of the pressure your brain is putting on itself to produce “good” writing.
As an example, let’s take “Did you read a great story that was similar to your own?” from our list of bullet points in section above.
Let’s say you’ve finally been getting into the groove with your brand new, soon-to-be-award-winning-assuming-you-finish-it novel about eighteen rabbits flying fighter pilots in a rebellion against the cruel fox overlords that have taken over a far-future terraformed Mars.
I mean, what a concept, right? How could it not be the best thing ever written?
PUMPED!
And then you see someone on Twitter gushing about this rabbit space pirate novel they’re reading by a multiple award winning, NYT bestselling auhor that everybody loves, and, well…
Oomph.
The next time you sit down to write — a climactic scene, where plucky young rebel Marigold is finally about to face off against the haughty, hungry Duchesse de Renarde — words fail you. You stare at that blank word document, the wind knocked right out of your (solar) sails.
The touching final scene, where Marigold looks out at the unrecognizable Martian landscape, only wishing that she’d been able to convince de Renarde that love was more powerful than the conflict between them.
There’s a pretty good chance in this case that your writer’s block is actually tied to anxieties about overlap between your in-progress work and a well-respected author’s already-published novel.
Once you realize that, it might be easier to move forward: even if you’re still upset, you have new strategies you can look to, things like focusing on the differences rather than the similarities, and other ways you can make your own writing stand out. Method three, “kick perfectionism to the curb” is probably also good in situations like this.
The bottom line is that figuring out what’s really bothering you and resolving that, instead of beating your head against the vague and menacing spectre of writer’s block, can be one good way to move forward.
And who knows! By the time you come back to your manuscript after some time off to figure out other problems, maybe you’ll feel refreshed and ready to tackle the words on the page even if that other problem still bothers you.
Two: Find Joy in Something You’ve Written
Let’s take another look at anxieties.
Maybe your writer’s block doesn’t come from an external source, but a general feeling of disappointment at perceptions about your own ability. If the words flowing from your fingers (or not) are getting you down, take a moment to go back through other things you’ve written.
Have a published story? Great! Take a read through it, break out that notebook and pen and write out your favourite line from it. Add the story title and your byline to make it official-looking and fancy, and tack it up near your workspace if you want to.
Or just bask in the glow of “Hey, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Haven’t been published yet? That’s okay, you’ll get there!
Find the thing that brings you joy about your writing and focus on that.
And you can still do this exercise. Just look through something you’ve already written for the best parts, and proceed as above. Even if you’re writing your very first story, there’s probably something you can find in what you’ve done so far that brings you joy. Failing anything else, think up something clever now and write it down.
Maybe it’s not even a line — maybe your characters bring you joy, or the idea of a particular scene. Find the thing that brings you joy about your writing and focus on that for a minute, then get back to the writing with that energy in mind.
Take that, writer’s block!
Three: Kick Perfectionism to the Curb
One big thing I struggle with in my own writing is perfectionism.
I’m the sort of writer who pays attention to the flow of my sentences, and likes a little bit of lyrical poetry (even when it seems like I’m just writing goofy nonsense). That means it’s easy for me to get bogged down in specific details, especially in a first draft.
Even if you don’t write the same way I do, it’s really easy to get writer’s block if you obsess over how different the vision you hold in your head is from what you’re writing down on the page. And first drafts can be particularly problematic.
Remember Hemingway? He famously said that “the first draft of anything is shit.”
A related quote (which proves Hemingway loved using the word ‘shit’ when talking about writing) is an interview in Issue 18 of The Paris Review (1958), where he says that “the most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shock-proof shit-detector.”
Hemingway digressions aside, this is worth reiterating: nobody writes perfect first drafts.
Think back to our SMART goals from lesson one. The whole idea is to break down a huge, daunting, impressive goal into tiny, manageable chunks, not do everything perfectly from the start. (Again: that’s impossible. Don’t try.)
Acknowledging (or accepting) that untramelled genius isn’t going to flow from your fingertips and into your manuscript as soon as you start drafting can sometimes help you to get rid of writer’s block. Giving yourself permission to write a shitty first draft can work, too.
After all, you can always revise a terrible first draft. You can’t even do that with an idea that’s still in your head. Focus on getting words down, not on proving how awesome a writer you “should” be. (Spoiler alert: lots of awesome writers also write terrible first drafts.)
Four: Take a Break
If none of the techniques above are getting you past your writer’s block, ask yourself if you just need a break.
I know there’s the idea out there that “real writers” write every day, no matter what.
Frankly, holding to that ideal can harm both your self-esteem and your ability to write.
Do some writers write every day, no matter what? Absolutely! And good for them. It’s nice to do it if you can.
Do you have to? Absolutely not.
The phrase “real writer,” incidentally, is garbage.
If anyone starts a sentence with “real writers,” you have my permission to ignore the rest of what they say unless it’s “Real writers are much more complicated than hedgehogs” or something.
Seriously, there’s no such thing as a “real” writer. The status of “writer” is based on practice, not “number of publications” or “has an Amazon page” or some other equally arbitrary qualification. (I see this especially leveraged against non-male, non-white writers, and it ticks me off every time!)
If you’re writing, have written, or are going to write, guess what you are? You’re a writer. Even if you are dealing with writer’s block, that doesn’t change anything.
Anyway, plenty of published authors I know don’t write every day. I sometimes go weeks at a time without putting down words. A friend of mine just started writing again after a two year break. Ernest Hemingway has been dead since 1961 and apparently he still comes back to writing for the occasional inspirational quote.
Life happens, and it’s okay to take a break. Even if life isn’t happening and you’re just not feeling it today, that’s fine. You’ll come back to it some other time, and then you’ll write. (Even if you don’t, life will go on, I promise you.)
Take a little time off to relax and practice some self-care instead of obsessing over productivity, and see if your writer’s block clears up the next time you sit down to write. You might just find that all you needed was a little distance from your work.
Five: Power through It
Sometimes, of course, the opposite to method four holds true.
While you don’t need to write every day, you do need to write sometimes. It’s just a matter of numbers. While you can write a complete novel in a year at 250 words a day (250 * 365 = 91,250), you can’t even write a single piece of flash fiction at 0 words a day no matter how long you do it for (0 * any arbitrary large number = well… 0).
Again, don’t stress about this.
But sometimes you do need to put words on the page. If you’re a “mind over matter” kind of person, forcing yourself to write even though you hate every word of it can sometimes work to beat writer’s block. At least you wrote something, even if it was terrible.
I often find that after the fact I don’t hate stuff quite as much, anyway. Or, if I’m being perfectly honest, that I hate things I loved when I was writing them about as much as stuff I hated writing.
The bottom line is: nobody can tell if you think your work is amazing or terrible, and what you think about it usually doesn’t line up with what readers do.
So if you’re the sort of person who doesn’t mind mechanically doing things you hate, you can try to power through it. I really wouldn’t recommend this approach unless you know you’re that kind of person, though. Forcing yourself to write when you hate it can lead to burnout.
Six: [Apply Brackets]
For longer stories and novels, I follow a pretty weird writing process.
I don’t just sit down with my outline, start at the first scene, and write through to the end. Actually, I often write the ending scene before I’ve finished most of the novel. I’m not afraid to jump around, either, especially if I’m getting stuck on a particular scene.
So if you think your writer’s block might be coming from the particular part of the story you’re writing, or if you find that your wheels are spinning over some detail — no matter how major it is — allow me to introduce you to your new best friend: the [bracket].
One lesser striped swallow (unladen). Photo used under a CC-BY license from Jack Versloot
Can’t figure out the average air speed velocity of a laden swallow? Just stick [speed] in there!
Facing a blockage because you can’t come up with a perfect name for your character? [name1] to the rescue!
This trick is infinitely flexible, up to the point where you can bracket off a whole scene to yourself to come back to later, if it helps you move past a point that’s causing you writer’s block.
You could also use parentheses for this, of course. But square brackets are convenient because you can run for [ and hop to the next thing that needs fixing when it’s time to revise. This is also why professional editors use TK to mark things that need to be fixed. Neither a square bracket or the combination TK is likely to appear in your manuscript file elsewhere.
Just remember that you will need to fill in your brackets eventually. I can’t count the number of times I’ve cursed past me because he’s left me a note like [insert clever dialogue here] halfway through the climactic scene of a new story.
Really, past-me? That’s the best you could do?! Ugh, past selves.
Seriously, though. Bracketing off something you can’t figure out can free you up to move forward with your story. Again, the goal is to get something down and fix it up later, not write perfection.
Seven: Remember Why You’re Writing
This is similar to method number two.
Again, the idea is to remind yourself why you’re doing this.
If you’re a goal-motivated person, just taking a moment to explicitly pull those goals up and remind yourself that there’s something waiting for you after you make it through everything can be enough to banish writer’s block.
Of course, if your anxieties about writing are at the root of your problem, or you’re the sort of person to obsess over every last thing that will keep you from your goals, this can backfire. So apply with caution! (See also: the next method in this list.)
Eight: Be the Friend
It sounds a little hokey, but think of what you’d say to a friend who came to you with writer’s block, or to express insecurities about their writing.
Please don’t feed the trolls. (Used under a CC-BY-SA license from Simplicus)
Would you say, “Well yeah, you’re garbage and so is everything you write LOLOL DON’T QUIT YOUR DAYJOB!”
Hopefully, no. No you would not. (If you answered “yes,” please re-examine your life choices!)
So don’t let yourself get away with talking to yourself in such a negative way. Remind yourself that it’s okay to not be at the top of your game all the time. That your worth as a person doesn’t depend on your ability to puts words on a blank page, or revise ones that are already there. Practice a little self-care. Build yourself up instead of putting yourself down.
Low self-esteem sucks, and can definitely impact your writing, so try this out if you’re the sort of person who’s pessimistic about your own abilities.
Or take a break, if you think it’d be helpful. Think about writer’s block, and come up with a plan for what you might do if it ever strikes you.
Laura Pearlman’s fiction has appeared in Nature, Shimmer, Flash Fiction Online, and a handful of other places. Her LOLcat captions have appeared on McSweeney’s. She’s a former associate editor at Escape Pod and editor of the almost entirely hypothetical CatsCast podcast. You can find her online at @laurasbadideas on Twitter
You don’t have to read the story to enjoy this interview (Laura’s just that good), but I highly recommend it. Not only will it help you figure out how the insights she shares can be applied to writing a story, it’s just such a fun piece of flash.
Interview
Stewart: Graalnak is one of my favourite pieces of humorous flash fiction. It’s got personality in spades (no doubt because spades are important for harvesting radishes), has multiple running gags, effectively mimics a real-life form of communication, and–even more impressively–it does all that while telling an actual story. Which part of the story came to you first, and how did you manage to keep all of those moving parts coherent in under 1000 words?
Laura: At some point, I noticed that the same “I am [name], [verb]-er of [noun]” structure showed up in Reddit AMA titles and Game of Thrones dialogue, and I knew I had to do something with that.
Pictured: Deleted Game of Thrones character, Everan Staedmon, Bearer of Regrets.
I made the jump to an alien overlord AMA pretty quickly. I had to make a few adjustments — my original concept was that the Vroon were grinding up humans for radish fertilizer, which, it turns out, isn’t funny — but it mostly flowed pretty smoothly from there.
The hardest part was the ending. I knew I wanted Graalnak to leave Earth. I eventually decided he should be tricked into searching for better radishes elsewhere, but my initial thought was that this would require a vast, complicated conspiracy. I couldn’t come up with a good way to convey this without breaking the format, though, so I scaled it down to the current ending.
As to keeping it all to 1000 words — one nice thing about this format is that there’s no need to spend any words on descriptions of characters, settings, or movement.
Stewart: Humans being ground up for fertilizer definitely would have been a very different story! It’s interesting how you jumped from AMA/GOT to alien overlords to uh… less murdery humour. Could you talk a little bit about your usual process for writing flash, and whether you stuck to that with Graalnak or not?
Laura: Graalnak was probably the easiest story I’ve ever written, because I had a strong sense of what it was going to be before I started writing. The details changed along the way, but it was always going to be about an evil alien overlord with an overbearing personality who eventually left Earth.
Most of the time, though, I don’t start out with a solid sense of what a story will be, so I tend to flail a lot. For flash, I might decide on a format (e.g., a Reddit thread), and I’ll write and rewrite the first paragraph until I have a good feel for the main character and voice. Then I’ll struggle to find a plot. At some point, I’ll wonder whether I’ve completely lost my ability to write. Eventually, I’ll either abandon the story or produce a terrible first draft.
Then comes the part I actually enjoy: iterating over that draft, finding threads (themes, running gags, character traits, voice, aspects of the world, etc.) and strengthening them, cutting away excess clutter, changing the ending, sometimes switching to a completely different format — basically, transforming that first draft into something I can read without cringing, then to something that’s maybe sort of okay, and then to something that’s actually pretty good, if I do say so myself.
Stewart: It’s definitely a great feeling to move from a cringey first draft to something that meets your standards! You’ve written flash and longer fiction. Do you think there are any noticeable differences between writing each form? Any tips for people trying their hand at flash fiction for the first time?
Regardless of what form you’re writing in, make sure there’s an actual story behind it.
Laura Pearlman
Laura: My goals are different for flash and for longer stories. When I’m writing a longer story, my goal is usually to more-or-less directly relate the events of the story. When I’m writing flash, I typically think about what events are happening in the story and then create an artifact (a reddit thread, one side of an email conversation, a public service announcement) that reflects those events indirectly, leaving it up to the reader to infer what’s going on. Just to be clear, I’m not saying all flash should be like that! Lots of excellent flash stories use a straight narrative structure to communicate clearly and directly; it’s just that none of those stories were written by me.
So here’s my advice:
Regardless of what form you’re writing in (straight narrative, epistolary, a series of yelp reviews), make sure there’s an actual story behind it.
Trust your readers. They’re probably better at picking up inferences than you think.
Of course it’s always good to show your story to someone else and get their opinion. But don’t think you need every reader to understand everything about the story — that’s an impossible goal, at least without overexplaining things to death.
Ignore this if it doesn’t work for you. There’s lots of writing advice that’s good for some people and bad for others.
Stewart: Excellent advice! Incidentally, have you noticed how “advice” and “radish” have almost all the same letters?Okay, maybe they don’t. But what’s the deal with the radishes in Graalnak? (I notice they’re also in the header image on your website.)
Laura: For the story, I chose them more or less randomly — I wanted something consumable that most people don’t have strong positive or negative feelings about (I don’t think the story would have been nearly as funny if Graalnak had been obsessed with bacon or kale).
Radishes started invading my real life around the time the story was published. My interviewer at Flash Fiction Online told me she grows radishes in her garden. Right after the story came out, my sister said she’d seen radishes at the farmer’s market had bought some because of me. Over the next few weeks, friends started telling me things like “there were radishes in my salad at lunch, and I thought of you.”
So radishes are my thing now. Also, they’re pretty.
Stewart: To be fair, radishes are delicious. I’ve always identified with Graalnak on a deep, primal level for… Okay, I can’t say that with a straight face, either. Anyway, thanks for letting me pick your brain about this storyand writing flash fiction in general!Do you have any other stories you’ve written that you’d like to share with people, or any exciting news?
You can read and analyze Graalnak, if you want to see what makes a great flash story tick. Otherwise, just keep writing with an eye to your goals and schedule, and take a breather if you’re feeling burnt out. Self-care is an important part of any hobby or career!
Next week, I’ll cover writers block and some methods for tackling it.