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blatherskiteScary how long it's been since my last blog post. Sorry about that! I've been crazy busy with work, and in off hours, most of my free writing time has been devoted to reviewing short stories published in Asimov's and F&SF. If you're interested, you can read them on my fiction site.
Why am I reviewing other people's fiction instead of writing my own? After all, it takes a ton of time and energy that could be better spent becoming the Next Big Thing in Fiction. (As if.)
The first reason is that it slows me down. I read about an order of magnitude more slowly than Shoshanna, but still read considerably faster than the average bear. That's useful when it comes to plowing through news stories and science magazines. But when it comes to fiction, it's like being a gourmand: emphasizing quantity of experience over quality. I was starting to find that I'd read the latest issue of the two abovementioned magazines, and a week later, only remember a few of the highlights.
That's a pity, because although not everything published in Asimov's and F&SF is up to gourmet quality, most of it is worth more thought and reflection than I was giving it. So I resolved to slow down, enjoy the journey, and do my own version of what's called a "close read". For me, that involves paying attention to all the clues an author is dropping early in the story or all the building blocks they're laying in place, and seeing how they lead inevitably to the conclusion. You'd be amazed at what's going on under the surface of even a seemingly innocent story, but you won't know what's going on if you don't look. The best stories are very carefully constructed; even if you tend to write first drafts by following your subconscious rather than carefully outlining and rigorously wiring in the details, you can make a story far stronger during revision if you consciously stop and think about what you're doing.
The second reason is self-discipline. I have this notion that by going through the exercise of figuring out what an author has done, not to mention how and why they did it, I'll learn a little more discipline in my own writing, and start applying some of what I'e learned to craft a better tale. I have a good intuitive grasp of how a story should be assembled, and how to craft a satisfying ending. But the foundation isn't always as strong as it could be. Follow the "all my fiction" link at the right of this page if you want to see the results for yourself.
Meantime, I've been shedding commitments as fast as I can (including, with some regret, cutting most of my ties to the Society for Technical Communication), and trying to cut back on my workload to make time for crafting some actual fiction of my own. With luck, I'll soon have time to start polishing up some older work that's already written in first or second draft using some of the lessons I've learned as a reviewer, and then possibly start working on some new stuff.
That's the plan, leastwise. Clients, of course, may have other plans, and as long as the kids want to be actually fed rather than left outside to graze on the lawn and shrubbery, that means I still have to work for a living. Though I appreciate the loyalty of my clients (I know how tough the past year has been for many colleagues), sometimes I wish they'd leave me alone for a while.
Why am I reviewing other people's fiction instead of writing my own? After all, it takes a ton of time and energy that could be better spent becoming the Next Big Thing in Fiction. (As if.)
The first reason is that it slows me down. I read about an order of magnitude more slowly than Shoshanna, but still read considerably faster than the average bear. That's useful when it comes to plowing through news stories and science magazines. But when it comes to fiction, it's like being a gourmand: emphasizing quantity of experience over quality. I was starting to find that I'd read the latest issue of the two abovementioned magazines, and a week later, only remember a few of the highlights.
That's a pity, because although not everything published in Asimov's and F&SF is up to gourmet quality, most of it is worth more thought and reflection than I was giving it. So I resolved to slow down, enjoy the journey, and do my own version of what's called a "close read". For me, that involves paying attention to all the clues an author is dropping early in the story or all the building blocks they're laying in place, and seeing how they lead inevitably to the conclusion. You'd be amazed at what's going on under the surface of even a seemingly innocent story, but you won't know what's going on if you don't look. The best stories are very carefully constructed; even if you tend to write first drafts by following your subconscious rather than carefully outlining and rigorously wiring in the details, you can make a story far stronger during revision if you consciously stop and think about what you're doing.
The second reason is self-discipline. I have this notion that by going through the exercise of figuring out what an author has done, not to mention how and why they did it, I'll learn a little more discipline in my own writing, and start applying some of what I'e learned to craft a better tale. I have a good intuitive grasp of how a story should be assembled, and how to craft a satisfying ending. But the foundation isn't always as strong as it could be. Follow the "all my fiction" link at the right of this page if you want to see the results for yourself.
Meantime, I've been shedding commitments as fast as I can (including, with some regret, cutting most of my ties to the Society for Technical Communication), and trying to cut back on my workload to make time for crafting some actual fiction of my own. With luck, I'll soon have time to start polishing up some older work that's already written in first or second draft using some of the lessons I've learned as a reviewer, and then possibly start working on some new stuff.
That's the plan, leastwise. Clients, of course, may have other plans, and as long as the kids want to be actually fed rather than left outside to graze on the lawn and shrubbery, that means I still have to work for a living. Though I appreciate the loyalty of my clients (I know how tough the past year has been for many colleagues), sometimes I wish they'd leave me alone for a while.