World in the Satin Bag

World in the Satin Bag

John Scalzi on Teenage Writing

For those that don’t read Scalzi’s blog–I peak in on occasion–there has been somewhat of a controversy going on there between he and all those Teenage Writers out there. Read it here. So, I started to think as I was writing earlier about this. Scalzi is essentially correct. All teenage writers are in that phase where generally speaking their writing will suck. Of course, there are exceptions, and this has some bearing on the fact that I am editing the TW Anthology. I want to find those gems. And there will be some because TW has quite a few talented writers. As it is, I find it interesting that there seem to be phases in a writers life. I would place the phases as follows: Phase One–Birth: This is that phase where you start to write and someone comes along and says “that’s pretty good”, or you come to the revelation that you really like writing. Most people never get out of this phase because they quit.Phase Two–Adolescence & the Teenage Years: This is the point that Scalzi is talking about. It’s that part of your life where you love writing and you do write, but it’s not professional caliber. It’s utter garbage, essentially.Phase Three–Starvation: This is that phase where you’ve developed your craft so it doesn’t suck, but at the same time you’re not going anywhere with it. You haven’t hit that sweet spot yet. This is where I’m at. Nobody is biting yet.Phase Four–Charitable Relations: Success! You’ve been published. And that’s it. You’ve got a real publication under your belt. A lot of writers stop here, or publish a couple more and stop.Phase Five–Golden Age: If you get lucky to be here, and yes, it is entirely luck, then you are one of the chosen. You are now making a living writing. Scalzi is here! Congrats Scalzi!Phase Six–Fallout: Alas! You’ve been writing so long your ideas are getting tired! Welcome yourself among the ranks of Stephen King and the like. Granted, the writing isn’t crap, but it’s not Golden Age anymore. You’re falling off the wagon. This happens towards the late period of someones’ career.Phase Seven–Death: You just stop writing. End of game. You’re done. This implies retirement of course.Phase Seven Alternate–Rebirth: It’s rare, but this happens. Sometimes you’ll fall into the Fallout stage and then BAM you create a rare gem! And then you’re right back in the Golden Age again! So, what do you all think about it? Any thoughts?

World in the Satin Bag

My Obsession With Golden Age Science Fiction

I don’t know what it is about the Golden Age that really attracts me to it. It’s one of the few ‘genres’–if that is what you could call it–that just seems to keep me permanently focused on it. If I see a good deal in a store on some oldies, I pounce on it. This happened this weekend when I found a whole slue of Poul Anderson novels, truly old ones, for a very good price. Needless to say I spent almost 30 dollars on Poul Anderson books. He’s my favorite Golden Age author and could be in my top ten of favorite authors of all time. I have a top ten somewhere on this site, lost in the abyss, but my top tens tend to change from time to time. That’s only natural for such things to occur of course.So, is it perhaps the ‘classical’ aspect of the Golden Age that keeps me coming back? Sort of how a lit. person might be obsessed with the old classics of the Renaissance or the Medieval period. That seems like a good way to look at it, and I think that might be true. I do tend to look at the age of a book and in some cases it might sway me into wanting it. But I’ve noticed that there is this very distinct group of years that sway me this way. If it is before 1935 I likely will lob it into that category of ‘too old’. Those sort of goofy classical works that take on bizarre and unbelievable concepts. Granted, those novels are good, but for some reason novels between 1935 and 1960 seem to truly grasp my attention the most. That is the true Golden Age of science fiction. It’s the period of time when the biggest burst in creative thought in SF truly took place. It’s where great writers like Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Poul Anderson, and A. E. van Vogt made their names known. That classical–‘vintage’–nature holds me perplexed.So begins my quest. I have decided that my goal in life is to own every science fiction novel ever written and published in the Golden Age. Now, surely this will be an impossible task as many novels may not have been recognized at all. So I’m giving myself leeway. I want to acquire novels that would have been known to some extent. Old Clarke, Asimov, and others whose names I might not be familiar with such as Simak or Surgeon. That is my goal! I’ve started a list of all the novels and short story collections of authors noted to be Golden Age writers. I want all of their works now!If anyone can name off more authors in the Golden Age, please do. One day I want to have a Golden Age library, perhaps not a public one, but a real room that is just a library of Golden Age.

World in the Satin Bag

Random News

As the summer winds down I am getting every closer to going to UC Santa Cruz. I went in today to talk about classes and to talk about studying abroad. I’m making moves to go to New Zealand right now and am really excited. How many people get to go to another country to learn? That’s cool in my book.In other news, WISB is going well. I’ve been writing all this weekend, albeit slowly, but writing nonetheless. I’m hoping to get another chapter up this Sunday. We’ll see how that works out of course. My goal is to finish the rest of WISB before Sept. That might not happen, or perhaps it will. We’ll see.Now, as for the TW Anthology, with the days winding down I should start seeing some major involvement from the TW community. There haven’t been hardly any submissions thus far, but that only means, to me, that I could be seeinga LOT of submissions towards the end of the deadline. That frightens me, but if that is the case, so be it. I’ll make it through. In other news, I went book store shopping, as opposed to book shopping, out here in Santa Cruz, where I’ll be living for a few years, and managed to make some amazing finds. I’m a Poul Anderson fanatic and have a hard time finding all his books, and loe and behold at the little used book store in Downtown SC I found a whole load of them for a buck each! I scored 20 or so of his older novels! I’m so excited. My goal is to own every novel he ever wrote!Anywho, I will be back tomorrow afternoon with a more regular post. I’m not sure what is up next. I have a few in draft form right now, so we’ll see what I decide to do.

Book Reviews, World in the Satin Bag

Book Review: Catalyst by Nina Kiriki Hoffman

Catalyst is one of those novels that when you read it you think to yourself, “that was bizarre.” That’s my general consensus of this novel. I can’t say I loved it, but I can’t say I didn’t like it either. Obviously, as I read this rather fast, it held my attention. Something about it grabbed me and kept me interested. Perhaps it was the sexual content or some deeply hidden part of myself that liked that content. I don’t know. It’s just a bizarre book.Catalyst starts out on the planet Chuudoku, a colony planet that humans have taken. Kaslin and his family have just moved there because his father is a failed criminal and that was their only option. We soon learn that Chuudoku is a bizarre planet home to strange vinelike plants that infect human hosts with their babies and other strangeness.Kaslin is bullied at school by an attractive girl named Histly (they are teenagers mind you at that ‘breaking into sexuality’ stage). Histly has strange augmentations that allow her to shoot poison and other nasty things from her fingertips. Then one day while Kaslin is running from Histly, hoping not to become a target for the fingers he doesn’t know about, he hides in a cave in the woods and discovers aliens!Now, the book was strange. The aliens sort of do things with their tongues, as a rule, and as such there are some very bizarre sexual things that take place, as you can imagine. A romance develops between him and Histly, for some reason, and it’s one of those very bizarre high school teeny bopper romances, only with sex.Hoffman has an okay writing style. I don’t know how well suited it is for the novel form, but it at least didn’t have me confused or irritated. The novel moves well and reads more like a novella rather than a novel as the plot itself is not very grandiose, though from the description you would think so. I’d say the novel is worth a read, but again, it is completely bizarre. The romance develops almost out of nowhere, though you can imagine that something like that might happen between a bully and the bullied (sometimes kids are like that). The aliens are even more bizarre, taking Kaslin and his mother and augmented them so they have strange new abilities.It’s bizarre, but I can say I was happy to have read it.

Book Reviews, World in the Satin Bag

Book Review: Farthing by Jo Walton

This is a powerfully intriguing book that hurts itself in the end. Everything moves so smoothly, and then comes the end and disappointment.Farthing is an alternate history. It’s set in a world that asks the question: What if England made peace with Hitler in WW2 and ceased control of Europe to the Nazis?Walton does a fantastic job showing a world where Jews are hated not only on the European mainland, but even in America and England. It’s a world where the new ‘racism’ is being Jewish, period. Jews are banned in America, treated unfairly in England, and imprisoned, forced into labor, or killed in Europe (the Continent, the Nazi controlled place).The story is set in England in the country. Lucy is the daughter of a nobility class known as the Farthing Set–a group of politically like minded nobles of sorts. Her mother hates her, and why is that? Because Lucy has married David Kahn, a Jew. She’s practically been outcast by her mother and while her father supports her decision to marry David–for love rather that political gain–it puts considerable strain on family ties. The story starts off in Farthing–where the Farthing Set basically live or socialize. Lucy and her husband have been invited out somewhat suddenly to a party at her parents place–Farthing. Lucy doesn’t want to go, but David insists, and they go. One morning it is discovered that one of the Farthing Set has been murdered. In comes Carmichael, a detective from Scotland Yard who soon discovers that this murder is more strange than it seems. Some of the guests are lying right to his face, the nature of the death of the individual is even more peculiar, and the Jewish Star attached to the body suggests to him that someone is trying to frame Kahn.This rolls out much like an old English mystery and that gives the novel much of its charm. You soon learn that homosexuality is practically illegal in England, yet some of the nobility hide secrets of such actions. The story is very engaging and I found myself truly enjoying the character of Carmichael–he seems to be that sort of charming English chap you want to have around at Christmas.But the story is killed, I think, in the end. Don’t read further, because I will spoil it for you…..Carmichael figures it all out: the entire Farthing Set, or most of them anyway, conspired to kill the man to raise sympathy for an upcoming vote, and they intended to use the Kahn’s as scapegoats. So it’s all an elaborate ruse so that the Farthing Set can take over–which they do–and begin a reign of fascism–which they do.The problem is right in the end. Carmichael finds out one of his witnesses has been murdered–more than a coincidence–and he shows up at the Yard to present his case against Angela–the woman who killed her husband to set off the events mentioned. He presents the case and then he is told that Kahn did it and it would be in his best interest to simply go along with it. Why? Because they know about his secret gay relationship with his servant Jack and because it would be a pity for his career to end with such a scandel. Obviously, the police head is in the pocket of the Farthing Set.So, what does Carmichael do? Does his show his true integrity and refuse to let in? Nope, exactly the opposite. Walton takes all the integrity of Carmichael and successfully throws it in the trash bin. Carmichael just accepts it, though somewhat unhappily, and just goes on with his life. Excuse me? What kind of BS ending is that? The inspector goes through all the trouble to figure it out only to just forget it… Now, aside from the ending I would say the book is quite good. Just that darn ending hurts the book…

World in the Satin Bag

Chapter Twenty One: Of Relief and Impending Hardship

(Note:  This is not official version and may be removed in the near future.  This do not reflect what is read in the podcast version, nor any other version you may encounter.  I have preserved the rough form for posterity — or something like that.  This novel has since been rewritten.) James didn’t hesitate. He bolted forward and leapt into the surprised arms of Triska. He embraced her, squeezing her with all his might as if afraid that she would disappear if he let go. She laughed softly, warmly. She kissed him on his cheek and tears drizzled down his face. “There there now,” she said. “Thank God you’re alive,” he said, but the words came out muffled. Then he slipped from her grasp and back to the ground. She wiped away the tears from his face and smiled. “How?” Darl said. “Well that’s quite simple. I escaped.” “That’s…” “Cowardice? Oh, no, not at all actually. You see, by escaping I was able to come here to help in the preparations for when Luthien comes. My purpose in this world is not yet fulfilled.” Pea came forward, put a hand on James’ arm. The little man looked up into Triska’s eyes and James saw there were tears there, welling up and on the brink of falling. “My dear, dear, dear woman,” Pea said, repeating the words with increased emphasis. Triska leaned down and opened her arms. Pea glanced up to James and then back at Darl, and then leapt into Triska’s arms, hugging and kissing her. “I dreaded the worst!” “We all did,” James said. When Pea released her, Triska stood to face Darl. “Never before,” Darl began, “have I been happier to see your face.” Then he too hugged her. It was a small hug, but James could see the meaning behind it clearly. There was a genuine sense of joy. “What about Gammon and his family?” James’ voice was concerned. Triska shook her head. “Dead, most likely,” Darl blurted out. “No, not likely at all. Luthien took a lot of prisoners after the wall fell. It’s possible he was captured. His family too.” “But not likely.” “It never hurts to hope,” Pea said. “Only when hope fails.” James was surprised at his words. He couldn’t believe they came from him. “That was very Darl-esque of you…” “Yes, yes it was.” He shook his head apologetically. Darl grunted. “Now, no more bad thoughts. Come, have some tea with me!” James gladly followed Triska deep into the room. Drapes hung everywhere in much the same fashion as they had in Triska’s original home. Back in Arlin City, before the city was destroyed. Yet here the colors were brighter, somewhat less earthy and more crimson and glowing. Designs were woven into everything—just as elaborate as in Arlin City and just as mysterious. He examined them. Crosses, shield knots, triquetras, all manner of designs seamlessly crafted together as pieces to a massive whole took up the space in the drapes. Beyond were large cushions, or pillows. He wasn’t sure which. They surrounded a round marble table set atop a glistening wooden base. A steaming silver pot alongside a silver tray filled the center of the table. Triska took a seat on one of the pillows, a deep red blob that bordered on imperial purple. She beckoned the rest to do the same. James took a seat on a vermilion colored pillow with dark brown embroidery. The others found seats nearby. Triska delicately poured five cups of tea. The scent of strong flowers filled the room as she did so. James let the smell permeate his body. It seemed to sooth even before Triska handed him his cup and he could actually see the amber liquid and feel the glowing warmth. He blew on it for a moment to cool it down, then sipped and instant relief poured through him. He took notice that Triska was not wearing a dress this time around. Instead she wore a pair of loose pants of a tan color and a faded red tunic. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. “Tell me, my dear sweet woman, how did you manage to escape?” Pea gently tipped his cup, which was human size and looked completely out of place in the little mans hands. “In some ways I think I was let go.” “How do you mean?” “When the walls fell, Luthien’s armies came forward. I cast a few charms on the men, raised their spirits and such. It did them little good. The front lines fell in a wave of arrows. The first wave of Luthien’s men fell pretty quick after that, but more came and the second wave batted us down in less than an hour. We retreated farther into the city. It was a blood bath. Men were falling all around me. Arrows crashed into windows and walls, faces, shoulders, and backs. We were supposed to regroup, form a last ditch effort at the keep, but we never made it. Luthien was too fast. His men and flying beasts came down on us so fast that I can’t accurately remember all that happened.” She took a sip of her tea, closing her eyes as she did so. Then, softly she said, “The city was on fire. I don’t know how long it had been that way, but smoke and ashes came down from everywhere. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me. I lost all sense of direction. Then I saw Gammon, or rather, he saw me. He came through the shadows. I thought he had died! Then something struck the building behind me and for a moment the sound and the debris threw me off balance. I fell. He came to me, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Then before I knew it he was pushing me into a nearby home. Someone had already destroyed the place, but I was in shock, stunned. Then I woke up.”

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