November 2009

World in the Satin Bag

Rekindling WISB: An Idea; Opinions Wanted

Yesterday, I was discussing some writing-related things with a friend of mine when she brought up a problem she was having with finishing her latest novel (second in a series, actually). One thing led to another and I suggested that maybe she could write some short stories in the same world so she could keep things fresh and interesting. She didn’t much care for the idea, but thought it would be a good one for me. And, I agree, sort of. One of my problems with The World in the Satin Bag and its sequel, The Spellweaver of Dern, is that I feel tired of both of them (not the blog, but the novels). Call it character fatigue, or world fatigue, or whatever, but whatever it was that had me clambering to finish The World in the Satin Bag isn’t there anymore. That’s not to say that I’m not interested, just that I don’t have the drive at the moment. So, my idea is to possibly write some short stories set in the world of WISB (Traea), to be posted here, of course. My question is whether any of you would be interested in that. The stories would probably not involve characters from the novels, but it’s possible. Let me know what you think of the idea in the comments section (hate it or love it, or indifferent, doesn’t matter). Anywho!

World in the Satin Bag

The Fantastic is in the Genes

If you trace back through time you can see through every generation and era the presence of the fantastic. By fantastic, I mean anything that could be construed as fitting into science fiction, fantasy, magical realism, fairy tale, myth, religion, and any other such genres or subgenres in which something we know is not entirely true occurs. The fantastic is somewhat like a virus in that it worms its way into everything and evolves to fit into new shapes so that it may survive in some sort of dominant mode. So, when I say fantastic, I am using a liberal definition of the term, much as literary theorists have, in some respects. The fact that the fantastic has survived through generations and eras, despite a monumental effort to suppress certain forms of it, is astonishing, and leads me to conclude that there must be something in us, something wired into our DNA, that makes mankind susceptible to the whims of the fantastic (we’ll call it fanty from now on, just so it can have a cute name like SF does–i.e. sciffy–and if you’re really clever you’ll catch the Firefly/Serenity reference). We know this from history: the fantastic is woven into us more finely than a nano-fiber coat (if such a thing exists). The cavemen and other early cultures had some idea what it was, and drew it and exchanged stories about it without realizing that was what they were doing. Numerous religions were founded on the very prospect of the fantastic too, and one cannot deny the relation all religious share to one another, even those religions in existence today. So much of our existence is founded in principles of fantastic discourse as figured through all mediums (fine art, writing, spoken word, etc.). So, is it any wonder that fantasy, as a genre, is doing so well, or that science fiction film (and even fantasy film, for the most part) have such a strong hold on the visual market? The fact that young adults and children gobble this stuff up like so much candy is testament to our human desire for the fantastic; as adults, we may shed some of the “silly” aspects of our youth, but there is always that thread (of course, some of us never grow up, and that thread is still wrapped around us as a coat). Now, the question is: is it possible to cut ourselves off from the fantastic (assuming we wanted to), and if we did, what would the consequences of that be? Would we lose a part of our souls, or would it be like losing a toe (no big deal at all)?

World in the Satin Bag

5 Ways to Explain Scifi Obsession to Friends

We all have that one friend who doesn’t get science fiction. Some of us have probably gone through the annoying experience of trying to explain it and realized how futile such a thing really is. But maybe we’ve failed because we haven’t bothered to try one of the following five options: –I’m an Alien!Look, your friends already think you’re insane for having Star Wars figurines lining your walls or stacks of science fiction books filling up your shelves. What harm could it do to take that insanity to the next level? Explain that your love for the genre is due to a long lost urge to reclaim the glory of your former galactic empire! At least there might be something strangely normal about saying that (especially if you’re British). –Theater BirthMaybe they’d understand you if they thought you had been born during the opening credits of Star Wars, or shared a birthday with twelve of the greatest science fiction writers of all time (thanks to some clever quasi-time-travel handiwork). Heck, you could even tell them your first word was a Wookie war cry thanks to a year of clever brainwashing by your scifi-crazed parents, in which you were exposed, twenty-four hours a day, to non-stop scifi goodies. Your friends will understand. Really. –Speculative PrescriptionThere’s nothing like explaining away one level of “crazy” than by claiming you’re crazy in a different way, and that your new crazy is medication. There are all sorts of weird treatments out there, and it wouldn’t be that difficult to accept that some radical psychiatrist out there wants to treat your mental defects with a bit of spaceship-and-explosions-laced fun. If you really wanted to, you could cook up some fake prescription notices to your local Blockbuster. Might be fun… –Only Wimps Get OldSome people see science fiction obsession as a sort of desperation to remain a child. After all, it’s all escapist garbage, right? And you should just grow up and be like everyone else. I mean, come on, being into science fiction is like being a forty-year-old fat man with a beard hanging out at an Anime convention; it happens, but it’s just not natural…But screw that. Tell them you don’t want to grow up. You’re a Toys’R’Us kid, or something like that, and you’ll be damned if you’ll throw away all your fun for a suit, a tie, and a mediocre cubicle in the 9-to-5 grind. Science fiction is about life (and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness)! You’re seizing the day, as the ancients used to say. –The Economy Needs Lovin’ TooStill, there’s nothing like explaining to your friends just how important science fiction is to the economy. Just show them the sales figures of the last ten years of science fiction film in the U.S. and you’ll have ample evidence as to why the genre makes the world go round. And that’s not including books, action figures, collectible cards, board games, pajamas, t-shirts, food products, and novelty bedroom attire for the ladies (nothing like a little Spidey lingerie, eh?). Without sciffy nuts like you, the sales industry would be a damned boring place. And don’t forget to mention all the advances in technology thanks to science fiction: everything from new ways to make films to new technologies and ideas that make our lives easier. Plus, our current President is a sciffy fan, and if it’s good enough for the President, it’s good enough for you, right? But maybe all these options are a little too over-the-top for you. You can stick with the same old boring answers if you want, but these five suggestions might spice things up a bit. If you’ve ever tried anything like this, let me know in the comments. I’d like to know the different ways you folks have tried to explain your obsessions to your friends, science fiction-based or not!

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