IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 148

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration(quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a

thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

Change of pace for a bit – I’m going to look at elements of EXTREMELY popular SF, F, and H; break them apart and use each element as a jumping off point for a story idea…or better yet, a continuing story idea…maybe writing myself a novel or something!

Popular Fantasy Story/Series: Harry Potter, et al

F Trope: An Oppressed young person; Death (JK Rowling says: “My books are largely about death.” (11 Jan 2016, The Daily Telegraph London))

Current Event: Immortal Cells (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, 2010)

Andre Xavier Xavier scowled as he looked to the battlements of Kylslithe University, a balcony that jutted from Canis Abbey standing at its center. Below men and women practiced their ability with the sole intent of learning and perfecting the technology that allowed humanity to influence events and produce marvels by tapping into veiled force secreted by nature in hundreds of places, objects, and people. He said abruptly, “What if there was no such thing as ability?”

Raven Zoe Jefferson was intent on enabling sunlight stored in the upper stones of the Abbey to escape. She’d tried to enable a brick she’d set out three days ago, but it stayed stubbornly dirt-colored. Sighing, she picked up a palm-sized, smooth stone she set out a week ago. It was one her little sister had painted with a happy face. Holding the stone at eye level, she said, “Tremen lay, elleemah!” She sighed as she stared at the dirt-colored stone and said, “It wouldn’t make much difference in my life.”

Andre shook his head, stared at the stone and snarled angrily, “TreMEN lay, ellEEmah!”

The stone flared to daylight brightness then faded to a mellower glow. Raven sighed again and said, “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You hardly ever study, you know exactly what to say to something to call out whatever force is stored in it. All I want to do is to be able to enable one thing!” She tossed the stone over the battlement.

Andre said, “You didn’t even listen to my question.”

“Yes I did, you asked the wide, unlistening world – and incidentally me – what would everything be like without any kind of ability.” She shook her head and watched as the glowing stone hit the ground and bounced into a senior’s kneecap. She leaned backwards just as he looked up. She didn’t feel like being the target if he chose to enable the stone to find its origin. “I noted that nothing would change for me.”

“Yeah, but for me...”

Raven cut him off, “Would it be OK if we don’t bemoan your poor lot in life tonight for the next three hours? I’m not really in the mood.”

“We don’t spend that much time...” Raven snorted. Andre said, “I listen to you complain, too!”

“What did I complain about last night?”

There was a long pause, then he said, “That your parents are thinking of pulling you out of university to go work in their boot factory.” She turned to him, mouth open in startlement. Andre sniffed, “I know I’m self-centered.” He shook his head and went to the Abbey’s balustrade and said, “It sort of comes with the territory – ruling family and all that kind of stuff.” The stone Raven had tossed over the edge arched into the night air. He enabled its inertia to flow into the cool night air and reached out to pluck it before gravity regained its hold. Handing it to Raven, he said, “I know it’s impossible for anyone to imagine that I’m tired of being an enabled freak and ‘holding the hopes and dreams of everything it means to be Bryshwyn’.”

Raven leaned on the balustrade, looking down. “But if your family weren’t gifted enablers, who would keep the Vacancy full?”

He shook his head, “Somebody else can enable forces to fill it. I’m tired of it.”

“That’s what I figured when you asked what would happen if there was no ability.”

“But what would the world be like?”

Raven sighed. “I might not be able to enable anything here, but I can’t imagine what good would come of no one being able to keep the Vacancy full.”

“Would there even be a Vacancy in such a place?”

Raven pondered the enablers practicing below then finally said, “If there was no Vacancy, I’m sure there’d be some other…thing or thought or way of being that would contradict ability.”

“I can’t imagine what that would be!” Andre said.

Under her breath, Raven muttered, “That would be the point of having a place like that. Maybe people like me would be the ones to keep the Vacancy – or whatever – full.”

Names: ♀ Popular African American name, Australian Capital Territory, Common African American last name; ♂ Popular American name, Brazil

Image: http://www.travel-watch.com/images/images-part9/palsis3.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Julie Czerneda’s Writing Workshop! #10 Part 1– My Character’s Résumé

In 2005, whilst perusing the shelves at the Hennepin County Public Library, I stumbled across CHANGING VISION by Julie Czerneda (say it: chur-nay-dah), an author I'd never heard of, and was intrigued by the aliens on the cover by artist Luis Royo. It didn’t matter that the book was the second in a series, the cover entranced me and so I read. The book was spectacular, I read others, and fell entirely in love with another series of hers called SPECIES IMPERATIVE for its fascinating aliens and superior characterization. A teacher deeply at heart, Julie Czerneda shares ideas and methodology wherever she goes. On her website, http://www.czerneda.com/classroom/classroom.html she shares ideas for writers. I want to share what kind of impact her ideas have had on my own writing.  They are used with the author’s permission.

Truth be told, I’ve tried this method and had it fail on me miserably. I’ve written up an absolutely KILLER resume only to have the story go in a completely different direction from what I intended and the resume turn to ash in the file. I’ve taken photos from online and pasted them at the end of the story or on my wall or in the file – and yet I don’t think of them after I’ve done the homework.

Character is SO difficult for me to execute.

It scares me, I guess. I’ve read dozens of books on character – the two best are HOW TO WRITE SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY by Orson Scott Card (http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/how-to-write-science-fiction-and-fantasy-orson-scott-card/1004687830?ean=9781582971032) and DYNAMIC CHARACTERS by Nancy Kress (http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dynamic-characters-nancy-kress/1100626990?ean=9781582973197) –but I STILL cannot create believable characters CONSISTENTLY.

I can create characters that engage a reader. I can and I have done it.

My problem is consistency.

How do I make characters that come alive every time I create them?

One of my problems is that I usually write in the short story form. In a short story, you only have so many words you can spend on creating character. I have spent the words well and created realistic characters that have sold my fiction to top markets.

I have spent the words poorly and have stories languishing in my files that I KNOW are competently written…but the characters are flat or worse, unrealistic. The pain there is that it’s almost impossible to return to the story once it’s done and force a poorly written character to live.

Or is it?

I couldn’t FIND an article that shows how to revive dead characters (though lots of people seem to oppose bringing characters who have died in TV shows, movies, novels back to life again; as well, there were several articles on writing about zombies...but not what I was looking for.) So I guess I’m going to have to go it alone. There are suggestions out there that sort of state the obvious:

“[People are] looking for unique characters who capture the attention, forcing the hand to continue to turn the pages, care about the events and hunger for the outcome. Uncomfortable and dangerous characters are equally valuable where they force you question, observe and reassess your own motives and actions.” (http://todaysauthor.wordpress.com/2013/01/03/writing-passionate-short-story-characters/)

That’s sort of a “duh”. Of course that’s what readers want. The question is how to GIVE it to them.

Does Julie Czerneda have anything to say on character?

From a year-old interview, I gleaned these nuggets of direction for creating characters (though that wasn’t the QUESTION the interviewer asked. Here’s the interview: (http://speculatingcanada.wordpress.com/2013/02/28/interview-with-julie-czerneda/)):

“It’s interactions that interest me. The interface between any two or more creatures is full of change and adaptation and lovely icky bits. In storytelling — and real life — I’d rather toss a problem at a group of people (or whatever I have in mind at the moment) who’ll each have a different approach to a solution, if they see it as a problem at all. That’s the joyful surprise of it all.”

“…science fictional thinking is a crucial survival skill. We all need to ask questions, to speculate about possible consequences in an imaginative, yet as close to real fashion as possible, and to become able to assess incoming  information in a critical, not cynical manner. Imagination is of immense use, too often undervalued…To ride society’s changes, rather than be swept away. To decide where and how technology best fits our needs, before it’s in our homes.”

“…communication between organisms who may not even share the same sensory equipment, let alone intentions, fascinate me.”

“...I watched a group of noisy grade 8 students grow quieter and quieter as they worked through a science fiction scenario about limited resources, only to burst into tears when they realized that their character would sacrifice herself for her younger brother; my eyes were no drier than theirs. The shared experience. The power of imagination. The swell of emotion no less real for coming from a story. Those are the moments.”

“My characters are very much my creations and serve the story. I don’t start writing until I know how they would react in any given situation. I’m always aware of the need to convince my readers these “folk” are real and if a character doesn’t fly as he/she/it should, to me that indicates a problem to be fixed.

“That said, I love how a story, through its characters and plot, develops momentum and direction once there’s critical mass. The notions my “hindbrain” comes up with when I’m in the shower or about to doze off delight and sometimes surprise me, but I consider that still part of my process.

“As for personalities? Oh yes, if I’ve done my work properly, characters develop personalities that resonate for me and hopefully for readers. I adore Esen. I have my Mac moments. I wouldn’t want to face such difficult trials as Aryl or Sira or Aaron  but I assuredly know their natures and trust they can and will face them. Jenn Nalynn, my latest, is different again and I can “hear” her laugh. Such are the end results of the craft, of putting enough into each character that they are believable and, I hope, as admirable/vile/adorable/or annoying as I intended.

“What does amaze me is how readers respond to minor characters. I expected the main characters to take hold of a heart or two but not that my walk-ons would have their own fans. These days, I take such great glee in adding details where I know they’ll be appreciated.”

All righty then. Fodder for the cannon – though nothing about reviving dead characters, so I’ll have to work through that on my own. I even feel an article for THE WRITER (yeah, I was published in THE WRITER online in March of 2006)…

Image: http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/71/96/33/7196334c674346d43a9b68c822ca9c92.jpg,

http://inspirationboost.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Martin-Luther-King-Jr-Character-Quotes.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 51: Stepan In the HOD

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters , Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters – and I’m sorry, but a number of them got deleted from the blog – go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (36,000 words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

From the back of the light-hearted mob that had grown abruptly silent came a heavy, gravelly, dark voice, “Who taketh my name in vain?”

Stepan stepped forward. The man was wearing a hooded robe, dark brown material thrown up and over a black, rubbery uniform underneath. He studied he man’s face as the man studied his. OM Gillard scowled and leaned forward. His eyes flicked with recognition, but he said, “Who are you?”

The woman who’d ratted on Stepan said, “It’s Natan Wallace! Hero of the Faith Wars! Vanquisher of Divisiveness! He’s come out of hiding to let everyone know how well we followed his program to free Mars from every form of...”

OM Gillard held up his hand and said, “I know what appellations have been attached to the name. But this is not The Hero. He’s an imposter!”

From the back of the crowd, a voice muttered, “I knew it was too good to be true.”

Another said, “Why would anyone claim to be The Hero then try and weasel out of it?”

Stepan-Natan briefly thought about pointing out that he’d never said what his name was. He wasn’t the one who’d claimed to be The Hero. The woman had identified him. She cried out again, “No! I know it’s him! I have his picture framed and hanging on my wall – the one where he’s standing in front of Olympus Mons and it looks like he’s holding that old fraudulent god in his hand and is ready to slap it like a mosquito!”

Another voice said, “That’s not The Hero! This guy looks like he crawled out of an ice mine a few days ago! He’s skinny and pale and doesn’t look like he could muster a declarative sentence let alone debate The Philosopher!”

Stepan glanced sharply at OM Gillard who muttered and said loudly, “Move him to my place. I’ll question him there where I can record his testimony.”

“What about the purp?” someone called, using an obscene street slur for Quinn. Several Hodfolk gasped at the crudity. Another person in the crowd must have shoved the caller, because the same voice said, “What? That’s what it is! A lousy purp...” A scuffle broke out.

The old man shrugged and said, “Bring it with. You can tie it up in the front yard to make sure it won’t wander around while I interrogate its master.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue, but both Stepan and OM Gillard turned to glare at him simultaneously. The boy’s eyes grew wide and he shut his mouth with a snap as Stepan fell in alongside him. No one noticed. More people joined the group until Stepan felt like he was being paraded at the center of a lynch mob. Much like the mobs he’d inspired when he’d led the rebellion against religion twenty years ago.

OM Gillard led them to a huge adobe house – an Anansi-style pueblo backed up against the Dome. A ramp led up to a wide flat patio where the all stopped. OM Gillard stopped the group with an uplifted. They stopped immediately and listened as he said, “I’ll question our visitor and report to you shortly. Leave the artificial human out here.” He paused, leaning forward and said softly, “I will expect this living property to be well cared for. By everyone.” He turned and walked into the pueblo, gesturing for Stepan to follow. He paused and bowed slightly as the younger man passed him and into the cool interior.

The hooded elder threw back the hood as they entered and he closed a screen behind them. Stepan turned and said, “I see you’re still wearing the suit Mom made for you.”

The older man smiled faintly, tapped the thick leather of the black suit and said, “I go in and out all the time. Everything thinks it’s magic. No one bothers to pay much attention to the Original Settler’s ways.” He paused. “How are you doing, Son?”

Image: http://www.firstpeople.us/native-american/photographs/A-Southern-Cheyenne-Father-and-Son-1900.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 147

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
Change of pace for a bit – I’m going to look at elements of EXTREMELY popular SF, F, and H; break them apart and use each element as a jumping of point for a story idea…

Popular Science Fiction Story/Series: Dune
SF Trope: messiah
Current Event: Song lyrics: “Siamese, Lebanese, Chinese speaking strip TV's Singapore, El Salvador, Coca-Cola....Mercury, luxury, shove that Fender fist at me…Embryo, UFO, freako psycho horror show; Hips n' lips n' beauty queens Venus ramp, sexy tramp, make up muck, My vegas vamp” [http://www.releaselyrics.com/8433/sigue-sigue-sputnik-21st-century-boy-(tv-messiah)/]

They’d been waiting in the abandoned port of Duluth for ten hours.


Logan Andrist frowned and said, “You’re sure Professor Buddlorem told you to meet him here?”


Nkokoyanga Pomodimo held up her tablet computer, thumbed the screen to life and tapped until she had the message. She handed it to Logan and said, “Right here. Used to be a downhill ski resort here.”


“What’s ‘downhill skiing’?”


“No idea.”


He turned in a complete circle again, then looked up into the sky. It was a dark, dark blue as the last of the blood red sunlight drained from the sky. Stars came out, wavering at first in the thickening air near Lake Superior. The lake had once teemed with diverse life forms. Now giant salmon and tiny, razor-toothed smelt battled fast-swimming lamprey for the zebra mussels they’d been gengineered to feed on.


None of the creatures had been created for any purpose but weapons in the war that had heated up between the Chinese States of America and Fragmented Canada.


Now neither side could safely fish the waters. Anyone who plied the surface had to run armed as it was said that one of the countries had developed some massive creature – a freshwater whale or octopus or squid or shrieking eel – that lived in the depths of the Inland (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LydQXydQKrc) Sea. Logan sighed and said, “You think it’ll ever look like it used to?”


“When? Like at the end of the Ice Age or you want the middle of the Deglaciation of North America or before the European Invasion of Laurentia?” Nkokoyanga snapped. She tapped her tablet furiously. A moment later, it bleated angrily. She said, “I’m not even getting a GPS signal.”


“What?”


“What are you, deaf and stupid?”


“Neither,” he snapped back. “What I mean is that how can you possibly be signal blocked?”


“We must be out of line-of-sight...”


Logan said, “How can we be invisible to a satellite?”


She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I’m being blocked.” She looked around, then down at the harbor far below them. They were standing on a hill that had once been a ski resort – if the ancient map could be believed. But instead off the reflection of the azure sky like the one in the picture, the waters below seemed to surge with murky gray, roiling as something swam through the bay, leaving a faint, oily wake. She stared at the water far below for a while then said, “I don’t think anything we do can turn back the clock far enough for these lakes. Even if we dump a million tons of iron into them, they’re still gonna die.”

“That could be serious...” Logan began, pausing. He’d seen something move back on the tree line. It was movement that couldn’t be caused by the steady wind off the lake. Besides movement, it brought with it a cold, fish smell.


“Of course it could be serious, you idiot! It’s the...”


Cutting Nkokoyanga off, Logan said, “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say it could have
serious ramifications for the land surrounding the lakes. All kinds of flora and fauna...”


“Why can’t you just say plants and animals?”
“Because it’s more than that,” he began, when something walked out of the heavy brush at the edge of the clearing.


A tall figure, dressed simply for the mid-summer weather, walked up to them and said something in a language neither understood. Nkokoyanga bent over her tablet, tapping furiously. The figure said in plain Spandaringlish, “You won’t find Ojibwe in your computer,
I’m sorry to say.”


Logan said, “Why not?”


“It’s a forgotten language,” the figure said. Logan couldn’t figure out if it was a male voice or a female voice. Maybe both. It said, “Ojibwe was one of the languages spoken in these hills in the past.”


Nkokoyanga snorted, “There weren’t any people on Laurentia to speak...”

He laughed and said, “I’m a native of these parts, Madame Pomodimo, not an idiot.”


“How do you know my name?”


He snorted this time and said, “I know everything, and I’m about to tell you a large part of what I know.”

Names: ♀ Central African Republic, Gbaya; ♂ Minnesota, Minnesota

Image: http://www.mcz.harvard.edu/Departments/InvertPaleo/Trenton/Intro/GeologyPage/Geologic%20Setting/blakeyearlyord.gif

Slice of PIE: Both Sides Are Right; Both Sides Are Left…

Anyone who knows me knows exactly how much I enjoy politics.

Or not, as the case may be.

It seems that as Humanity, we’ve reached a point where our politics are either “right” or “wrong”. I’m not just talking about the US, either. Turkish senators fight in the aisles: http://www.goodmorningturkey.com/ruling-akp-deputy-injured-in-turkish-parliament-melee-over-gezi-park/; South Korean senators fight over school lunches: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/8175512/Fight-erupts-in-South-Korean-parliament-over-free-school-meals.html; Georgian (country)Parliamentarians duke it out: http://www.nydailynews.com/news/world/georgia-legislators-throw-fists-ukraine-response-article-1.1545024 ; Malaysian senators scream at each other: http://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/nation/2013/07/09/zahids-case-sparks-shouting-match-in-parliament/; Americans sling mud faster than it can drip off the face of the accused: http://thealternativepress.com/articles/its-time-to-stop-the-mudslinging-in-new-jersey.

Why, in a world that is striving for democracy are politics increasingly violent?

Please don’t fall back on the old saw that “a free world means everyone has their say”. I KNOW that – what is falling by the wayside is sober reflection, realization that we are ALL Human, and a willingness to “walk two moons in their moccasins” (Variously attributed to the Cherokee or Cheyenne or “Native American”) – but I don’t think most people quoting it realize that “two moons” is two months. Americans have shortened the period of time necessary for understanding someone down to a mile, roughly a very, very slow stroll of thirty minutes. Then *poof!*, you understand someone.

What does this have to do with science fiction?

Few, if any, science fiction stories depict the ruling of Humanity in new and different ways. Seems we’ll always be subject to kings or queens or emperors. That or some kind of parliamentary procedure based on the Greek form. We have EMPIRES OF THE SUN (Keith Anderson); The Republic (George Lucas); a GOD EMPEROR OF DUNE (Frank Herbert); defacto Monarchy (Anne McCafferey); corporate feudalism (“Fringe” TV); CHINA MOUNTAIN ZHANG’s communism (Maureen McHugh); UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS (Star Trek); and various and sundry others as needed.

However, you rarely see any, one faction claiming sole or special knowledge – except that Paul Atriedes could see the future.

And American Democrats and Republicans.

I’d like to see a real exploration of how individuals or groups will actually lead in the 21^st Century. I’ve never considered it, but then, I’m not a political science major.

Rest assured I’m going to give it a whirl now!

Do you have any ideas?

Image: http://static1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090102033418/startrek/images/8/85/FederationCouncil2286.jpg