Category Archives: Publishing

Discussions about the business of publishing.

Heroes: Andre Norton

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Perilous-Dreams-AndreNortonWhere the heck was I? Oh, right. Heroes.

Andre Norton. For those too young or otherwise disadvantaged to know, Andre Norton was a prolific science fiction & fantasy writer who started publishing in the 1930s and continued to do so into the next century (at the moment, this one). I’m not going to even attempt to summarize her career, since this is about one of my writing heroes, and therefore this is Andre Norton in relation to me. If you’re curious, and you should be, a decent place to start is her entry in the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction.

Now then, here was the situation—I grew up in a very small southern town, and I was a reader. This was a problem for many reasons, not least of which being there was no bookstore within twenty miles and little money for buying books in the first place, and no library. Well, okay, the local school I attended had a library…only, for the first few years of its existence, students weren’t allowed to use it. And no, you don’t need to tell me how &%%# crazy that was. I know. In my one glorious term as a member of the Student Council, I complained about this in our very first meeting. The principal thanked us, and never called another meeting. He learned his lesson and I learned mine. The problem remained.

My only salvation was the county library eight miles away. Every week they sent out a bookmobile to the less fortunate towns in the county, mine included, and there…

Robert Heinlein

Isaac Asimov

Andre Norton

Ray Bradbury

Those were the top four authors I first discovered in the Newton County Bookmobile, so for better or worse, that mobile library is part of the reason I am the way I am. That’s a debate for another day. Yet as much as I enjoyed Heinlein and Asimov and especially Ray Bradbury, it was Andre Norton’s work that resonated the most with me at that time and place, at least partially because there was so much more of it.

I’m not really sure when I discovered that Andre Norton was born Alice Mary Norton. It’s not as if I was plugged into sf fandom or even knew it existed, but it was well before I graduated High School. I don’t even remember for certain which of her many, many books I read first. I believe it was either Galactic Derelict or The Time Traders. Not that it particularly matters. I got my hands on every single one of her books I possibly could, but to this day I have read barely a fraction of her work. So I’d like to talk about one in particular—Perilous Dreams.

This was from a time I was in college and buying my own books, when DAW Books was the place to be for the type of work I was looking for. John Brunner. Tanith Lee. Thomas Burnett Swann, for heaven’s sake. Those yellow spines and George Barr illustrations were practically a trademark. Perilous Dreams was a book about a woman who could move between worlds through dream. It wasn’t so much a novel as a series of linked novellas, given a handwave of genetic dispositions and technology, but basically pure fantasy and I read it that way.

This was a key book, and what I mean by that is this book was one of the ones that opened the door between the reader I was and the writer I was going to be. It resonated, as did The Gods Abide, Lord of the Rings and The Earthsea Trilogy a little later. It was one of the books that made me think about being a writer. Why? If I could explain that I’d be a lot smarter and wiser than I know I am. It wasn’t a perfect book by any means. Perhaps overly romantic, a bit disjointed. Don’t care and didn’t matter. Anyone who’d read both would know that my own A Warrior of Dreams, while certainly different, is me paying tribute to Perilous Dreams. You assimilate your influences and move on, sure, but it serves one best to understand what they are and who they are.

Andre Norton is one of mine.

Brief Update: Yesterday I passed the 60,000 word mark in Yamada Monogatari: The Emperor in Shadow, so I’m about 2/3 done, if I’m right about what’s left to tell, and I think I am.

We Could Be Heroes…But Probably Not

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WRITING 02

Not everyone is entirely comfortable with the idea of heroes. They too often have feet of clay, or in these days of the media creature, turn out to be fabricated out of whole cloth, or at least a cheap polyester. Yet we all have them, and writers are no different. The difference is in what inspires us—the words on the page, not necessarily the people behind them. Writing heroes. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when you discover that one of your heroes, known for his gentle and optimistic fiction, is a right wing fascist at heart or another with a unique and powerful voice is a virulent racist. Such things usually kill off normal heroes. As a hero, that is. Writer heroes usually survive, not always, but usually, since it is the words on the page that matter, not the imperfect, venal, or just plain unworthy person behind them, but more so because there’s a secret that the process of writing fiction eventually teaches.

You write better than you are.

I’ve touched on this before, but it’s especially relevant, I think, in the genre today. We all do it, if we’re any good at all. What comes out on the page is smarter, wiser, usually more together than, well, we are. I don’t know how it all works, I just know that it does. So I’m not usually so surprised when it turns out that the writer behind books and stories I love is a deeply flawed human being. Someone you might even cross the street to avoid if you saw them coming.  It happens. It doesn’t matter. Any decent work we produce is, at its core, a reflection of our better selves, maybe even who we’re trying to be, not necessarily who we are. Which is probably why I’ve never been driven to meet writers I admire. Most of the writers I call friends are ones I met even before I discovered their work, and got to know and like them as people first. That way generally works. Someone you only know from their work? Not so much.

Oh, sure, there are exceptions. There are even times when I regret, say, that I never got to meet Fritz Leiber, even though I did have the chance, once, at a World Fantasy Con way back in 1987, and I will always treasure my one and only meeting with Parke Godwin, who turned out to be as grand a human being in person as he was on the page. It’s great when that happens, but I don’t expect it. No one should.

I started this blog post with the idea of talking a little about one of my writing heroes, but I got pulled in another direction. It happens, so I’ll save that one for next time. I never met her, but then again, see above, I didn’t need to. The books and stories were all I did need, or had any right to expect.

So, if you ever want to meet me and manage to do so, I apologize in advance. That is all.

Swords, Demons, and More Princesses Than You Can Shake a Haruegushi At

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YamadaEmperor-600Watching a writer work must be the most boring activity in the known universe. At least with watching paint dry you can watch the slight color change that usually happens during the process. A writer can be hard, nay, even furiously at work and still moving less than the average graveyard angel. Then comes the big burst of activity—if you’re both lucky—typing. Or maybe scribbling with pen and paper, if you’re into that old school method. Then…nothing again. For greater or lesser slices of eternity. Most writing doesn’t happen on the page. It happens somewhere inside and in the kinetic connection between mind and computer keys. When it happens, which isn’t always.

Still getting the words down, which is what it’s all about. Making my quota most days, sometimes a bit more. Hit something of a milestone this morning when I crossed the 50,000 word threshold. As thresholds go it’s pretty meaningless, but to me it signals that the book is over half way done. I don’t write doorstops, I know I’ve mentioned this before. I expect to wrap it up at about 90,000 words. If I don’t, I’ll be as surprised as anyone. I know what’s already happened, what’s about to happen, and a penultimate scene that breaks it down, wraps it up and kicks the entire thing to the curb. In a good way. Some old friends return. Some not-so-friends, and All is Revealed. Well, most of it.

I am so looking forward to that. I think Yamada is too. And by the way, this is a three-princess book. First time I think there’s been more than two. Nope, three. And one especially.

 

Winding the Crank

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WRITING 02

Spent all day up to a few minutes ago doing taxes. I had been putting it off, mostly because I knew I’d lose a writing day just to get everything together (moving, buying a house tends to complicate things, and they’re complicated in the best of times). So now I’m tired and cranky, which is the perfect time to do a blog post. Heck, I’m almost cranky enough to start on politics. Almost, I said. I’m not a complete idiot. Most of the time, anyway.

Despite the curtain state of crankitude, I’m pleased with my progress on the book, and rapidly approaching the halfway point. Some things resolved, a lot more that has yet to be. Looking forward to a final scene that should be killer and I can’t wait to write it, but I have to write the rest of the book to lay the proper groundwork for it, otherwise it won’t work. I call it motivation. Other people just call it, “Seat in Chair, Hands on Keyboard. Now Work!”

Just around the time the book should be done I have an Asian-themed story due for an anthology. It won’t be a Yamada story. Time to do something else, and specifically, time to write some short fiction again. I’m thrilled to be able to do novels, sure, but I love and miss the short form as well, of which I’ve been able to do practically none in too long a time, first with the Laws of Power book, and then the Yamada taking all the writing time I’ve had. I have one more book to write in the Laws of Power series and that’ll be done. Yamada? Well, we’ll see.