World in the Satin Bag

World in the Satin Bag

What Are Editors Good For?

I’ll tell you. Editors are gatekeepers. The whole purpose of an editor in the publishing business is to weed out the bad and leave only the good. This is especially true in magazine publishing (online or in print). If you think that every story written is good, then you are sadly mistaken. Just because you have written something doesn’t mean that it needs to be seen. Bad stories exist. That said, it should be acknowledged that editors don’t always get it right; but that’s the nature of the human condition. Editors spruce up prose. They don’t do it quite as much as the other kind of editor that you hire, but they do make good writing better. In book publishing, an editor does a hell of a lot of work, and most of the time the work they do is good work. I’ve seen manuscripts from before publication and after and can honestly say that the final product is almost always better than the original thing. Editors make you into a better writer. Emphasis on better. They don’t make you into the greatest writer ever, but they certainly teach you a few things. Ask anyone published by a major publisher or even a small press. Ask them if their editor taught them anything. They did, didn’t they? I thought so. Editors are dedicated to good books. They are not evil, but benevolent creatures with only one goal in mind: find and publish good books that consumers will like. They don’t always get it right (but, hell, let’s face it, writers don’t either), but they put a hell of a lot of work and TLC into every book they edit. They want to put out good books. In fact, they have to. A string of horrible books that don’t sell very well could spell certain doom for an editor; it’s in their best interest to provide consumers with good products. And if you don’t believe that, then ask an author published by a traditional press. Ask someone at Tor or Penguin whether or not their editors did a lot of work to produce a quality product. Did you ask? And? I thought so. The thing is, some people are jaded against traditional publishing. Sometimes it’s for good reason, and a lot of the time it’s not. Editors are not useless entities. They serve a vital purpose in publishing, and writers need them (even good writers). Self-published writers need them too. Every sentence you write isn’t gold. Sometimes a sentence is utter drivel. The problem is that writers don’t always know that, and it can take a good editor to make them see it. If I missed anything here, let me know. I’m learning a lot of the editing trade, so if there are things editors do that I’ve forgotten, leave a comment! (This post is a preface to another post I have coming up. I’m trying to wrap my head around a string of paragraphs written elsewhere that I can’t help staring at–not because they are interesting, but because what is being said is so ignorant and stupid that I can’t help gawking at the words. Expect that soon.)

World in the Satin Bag

Calling On You: Ecocriticism, green, DIY science fiction?

I’m in the process of doing some research for a paper proposal and am looking to put together a list of recent (last ten years) science fiction stories containing some element of the “green” movement in it. This can be anything from obvious ecocriticism, but more particularly aspects of the DIY (do-it-yourself) green movement as visualized through science fiction. This is not limited to near future stories; one of the novels I am working with is Sly Mongoose by Tobias Buckell, which is set pretty far into the future, but deals with a lot of the issues I am curious about in regards to “green” literature (i.e. living with the environment and creating tech that accommodates that sort of relationship). Any help would be appreciated. Again, it should be recent fiction. I know of a lot of older stuff, but I want this paper to be more relevant to the more recent “green” movements today. Thanks!

World in the Satin Bag

Writing Prompt #7: Comical Imitation

Now that we are in the glorious month of November, it is time for yet another writing prompt. I thought I’d be silly this time around. Here goes: Write a humorous short story in your favorite genre doing your best impression of Douglas Adams. I think this one will be a lot of fun. Go wild, everyone. Seriously! I might have something for this by the end of the month. Have fun, and feel free to let me know if you’re taking part in the comments.

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)?

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