You’re hammering in a nail and you hammer your thumb instead. What do you say?

Ouch?

Maybe, but you’re more likely to swear, or use some special word that you reserve for such occasions. Dangnabbit, anyone?

Swearing, as in using bad language, seems to have been around almost as long as humans have. In this day and age it’s hard to write a book without any swearing in it. Especially when you want your book to sound realistic.

Yes, there are still people who don’t swear, but it would be a rare book if your world was peopled with just them.

But what about books set in other worlds? Suppose you are writing fantasy or science fiction. Do you still need swearwords then?

You don’t need them, but a few don’t hurt. Or if not swearwords, at least some sort of expletive that your character can use at extreme moments. Like maybe when your space soldier gets shot in the leg with a blaster, or when an enormous creature with rows of serrated teeth swoops down from the clouds above them and carries off one of their party. (Okay, so maybe for this last one they’d just run, but you get the gist.)

What words would your characters use?

They won’t always be the same as the words we use today. Swearwords change over time, and over geography. Nowadays they are often related to sex, whereas in the past they were more about religion.

Thus if you had to make up swearwords, what would you use?

I think a good place to start is to consider how religious your world is. If it’s very religious, then the words are likely to be based around the religion. On a world which worshipped the Great Mother, who donated her own body to the Megadeath to save the world, a swear-word might start out as something like ‘by the Great Mother’s body’ and morph into ‘gramody’. On a world which had less religion one might be more likely to start with body parts and go from there.

No matter how clever your expletives are, you need to be careful of overusing them. Especially when it’s an unusual word.

Different people have different tolerances to the made-up word. For example, in Lynn Flewelling’s Nightrunner series, I stumble every time I read ‘Bilairy’s balls’, yet other people I know who have read the books are fine with it.

Sometimes it’s the frequency of the word, rather than the word itself. It’s a fine line between a what works as regular swearword that someone peppers into casual conversation, and the occasional expletive.

I think a good test would be to replace your super-new invented swearword with a current word that is equivalent or slightly stronger than the one you invented. Then, if you can read the story without the swearword jumping out at you, you’ve probably got the frequency down okay, at least.

I have long believed that you can tell whether a book is written by a male or a female.  Now Teresa Frohock is trying to prove it one way or another.  Over on her blog she’s posting extracts–one a day–and you have to guess if it’s written by a male or a female.

She and another writer have brought together some SFF writers who have

… kindly pledged a sample of their work for us. Each author has written a short scene (approximately 500-1000 words) or a short-story and has chosen a pseudonym. There is a mix of men and women. I will post one scene or story a day (omitting weekends and holidays).

THE TASK: Tell us, based on the prose, whether the scene was written by a man or a woman.

Teresa Prohock, Gender bending along with a contest

She posted the first excerpt today. You have 24 hours to read it and decide if it was written by a man or a woman before she closes off the comments.

 

When you critique someone else’s writing it’s always a difficult line between how honest you can be and how careful you must be. Let’s face it, as writers all we want to hear is how wonderful our writing is. We don’t want to know that those words we slaved so hard over need more work.

Sherylyn and I are quite blunt when we critique each other’s work. We can afford to be. We’ve worked together for a long time and we get on well outside of writing too. But for some writers brutal honesty can be damaging, especially when you’re starting out. It takes a lot of courage to show someone what you have written. Thus most of us try to be gentle when another writer asks for feedback.

Here’s our silly season guide to what writers really mean when they politely give feedback on your story.

Say	Mean
I felt the story took a long time to get going.	The start is boring and long-winded and unnecessary.
I wonder, do you really need the first chapter? I feel the story is strong enough/you would make the story stronger if you started at chapter two.	Cut the first chapter. You don’t need it.
I felt the story slowed down in places.	The story drags.
I felt the story slowed down in places, especially when you moved away from the main protagonist’s POV.	The secondary POV character is boring.
I found it difficult to connect with your main character.	Your main character is horrible. He/she comes across as truly unpleasant.
Although your descriptions added colour to the story, there were a lot of them and sometimes they took me out of the story.	Are you aiming to win the Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest? I can’t see the story because the descriptions get in the way. Cut them. Cut lots of them.
I found your one of your secondary characters, Maria, intriguing and would like to know more about her as the story goes one.	Maria is much more interesting than your main character. Maybe she should be the protagonist.
I would have liked more explanation here.	I have no idea what’s going on.
I would like to have known a little more about the world here.	Put in some world-building please. I can’t even imagine the place you are describing (or rather, not describing).
Initially I thought that Simon was on his own, yet now I realise he’s with a group of friends. I would like to have seen that telegraphed more, especially before they help him out.	Where did all these people come from? They just appeared out of thin air.
I felt some of the dialogue was unrealistic.	Nobody talks like that.
To me, the ending felt a little rushed/contrived.	The ending’s a mess and you left a lot out.
I feel your action scenes are much stronger than your dialogue/description.	Your dialogue/description is weak.
I love the new first chapter you added. You have improved the story, and the new start made me want to read on.	I love the new first chapter you added. You have improved the story, and the new start made me want to read on.

 

The last one is a difficult one.  Sometimes it’s a desperate attempt to say something good and you overcompensate by gushing about the things that do work in the book–but I find people don’t say they ‘love’ things about someone’s writing unless they really do love it. Yes, they’ll say positive things, but they don’t generally use strong passionate words like ‘love’ (or even ‘hate’) unless they mean what they say.

Praise indeed.

Current thoughts on food in science fiction

Food in fantasy genres gets a fair amount of press. Some of it focuses on how impractical writers can be or even the perfect fantasy novel meal, and of course there’s lots of talk about how impractical stew is (I’ve written this one myself ). George R. R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire seems to particularly inspire people to write about the food in it.

But what about the food in science fiction?

Soylent green comes to mind as probably the most infamous, but there’s lots of food out there. Technovelogy lists food in well-known science fiction novels.

A lot of early science fiction contained food pills taken by spacers, protein grown in nutrient tanks and lots of packaged meals being rehydrated or reheated in microwaves (or an equivalent).

Except for rehydrated/microwaved meals, that reality hasn’t happened yet. Nor does it seem likely in the near future. NASA, for example, found that when they tried to compress food down to dried cubes, their astronauts didn’t eat it. In a study published in March 2011, planning for longer-term space missions such as a manned trip to Mars is for a mix of:

• irradiated wetpack foods (irradiated to kill any bacteria that might spoil the food),
• freeze dried foods,
• low moisture natural foods such as nuts,
• extended shelf-life bread products,
• powdered drinks, and a small amount of
• fresh fruit and vegetables.

Developing the NASA Food System for Long-Duration Missions by Maya Cooper, Grace Douglas and Michele Perchonok

Note that the fresh food is included for crew morale, rather than as a dietary necessity. Also current NASA missions have no capacity for refrigerated storage, so all food must have a long shelf life.

Designing a food system for our own universe

We’re currently world building for our Linesman novels. Here we have ships that move through space by passing through an alternative dimension, which cuts down travel time down to manageable distances. Travel between populous worlds takes hours or days, while even the isolated rim worlds can be reached in weeks.

From here we extrapolated what we see as trends in modern cargo and passenger carriers on land, water and in the air. With the exception of the small people carriers (cars, which seem to be getting smaller) carriers are getting larger. We’re in the era of the super-tanker and the super-liner. Even the planes are getting bigger.

We also assumed that there would be no issue with:

• carrying frozen goods, and that
• somehow, in our world, humans have been re-engineered to not have to worry about alien micro-organisms killing them (because, after all, that’s a whole other blog, and once you get started working that out, it will hijack your story)

Thus for short-duration trips we imagine that most ships will work like ships do currently here on Earth. They take in supplies—a mix of frozen, fresh and dried—enough to last the trip with maybe a bit over, and resupply at the next world. Some food would be pre-prepared, ready to microwave, while some food would be cooked, much as it is now in our own homes.

Matthew Johnson, in From Farm to Fable: Food, Fantasy, and Science Fiction commented that biggest gap between the present and the past is not what we eat, but when we eat it, because until methods of storing food and transporting them were invented, most foods could only be eaten in season. That won’t be a problem in the future. Thus the food will be a mix from any world, any season.

We also have space stations, whose inhabitants spend months at a time on board the station. For these, we imagine that they will use something like hydroponics and produce their own fresh vegetables.

So our future travellers will eat foodstuffs from various worlds, but preparation and storage will be much like it is today. While there will be compressed emergency rations, these won’t be common fare, only for emergencies. The only pills will be medical, perhaps to provide essential vitamins and minerals for crew whose genetic makeup has changed from the human norm.

As for the food the aliens eat. That would be telling.

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If you are interested in food from novels, particularly fantasy and science fiction, you might like to visit Food Through The Pages.

GenreCon 2012 was a conference for Australian genre writers. Sherylyn and I both went along. It was loud, it was fun, it was energetic.

Here are our impressions of it. Mine first, Sherylyn’s next blog.

First rule of GenreCon. Pack light. GenreCon is for writers of genre fiction, and what is genre fiction but books? Lots and lots of books.

There was a book included in our convention bag when we collected it on Friday night, another book placed on our seat at the banquet and, of course, books for sale. Lots of genre books. Some by authors I had never heard of. Yet most of these authors were here, at GenreCon.

I felt more optimistic about Australian genre writing than I had in a long time.

But—I had to buy an extra bag to carry back all the books, and I was extremely glad we had chosen to take the train home rather than the plane, because books are heavy, and I think the airline would have slugged me a fortune in extra luggage.

Second rule of GenreCon. We are all writers there. It doesn’t matter whether you are a published author with ten books to your name, or whether you are still aspiring to be published. GenreCon has something for you. I spoke to a couple of people who admitted to feeling overwhelmed, and a bit of a fraud being at a conference like this where so many people were published. Me too. But if GenreCon was only for professional writers they wouldn’t have eleven (count it, eleven) publishers and agents along to take pitches.

Third rule of GenreCon. Have fun. Writing is a solitary occupation, and it’s not often you can go out and meet people and the third or fourth sentence will be, “What do you write?” and know that if you don’t ask it, the other person will. You’re among like-minded people here. Here to learn, here to share, here to connect.

I have to commend the organisers—Peter Ball, Meg Vann and everyone else at QWC/Australian Writer’s Marketplace who was involved in GenreCon Australia 2012. They did a great job and their choice of presenters and panels worked well. Some of my own personal favourites were:

Writing effective fight scenes. Simon Higgins—novelist, martial arts master, former policeman and former private eye—entertained us with anecdotes and slides while giving us a good grounding in fight scenes and how realistic they are. Like, did you know that if you hit someone hard enough to force their head back as far as they do in the movies, you have probably killed them? Especially when you get that crunching sound that goes with it; you’ve probably smashed in half their face. Likewise the ninja schoolgirl in the cartoon who kicks out at her protagonist and sends him halfway down the street block. The force it would require to send him back that far is a killing force. Our ninja schoolgirl would have stoved in his chest. You’re watching murder here, people.

It was absolutely fascinating. At question time we got onto topics such as the Vulcan nerve pinch? There is no such thing, not where Mr Spock pinches, but there is another place on the neck where you can apply pressure which can shock the body and disrupt it enough to fall unconscious (and maybe do even more damage). All good fun.

Three stages of the writer’s career. In a session chaired by Kate Eltham, Daniel O’Malley (one book), Helene Young (mid-career) and Joe Abercrobmie (six books) talked about how they sold their first book, what they expected from selling that first book, how life has (or hasn’t) changed for them since, the difference between writing that first book and the next books and their publishers’ online requirements and more.

It was interesting to hear the different ways each writer went through to be where they are, the things they didn’t know and the good and bad things that come out of being a published writer.

Author platform 101, presented by Sarah Wendell. I wasn’t sure how much value this session would give me, as I expected it to be a very basic ‘get a website, get on Facebook, get on Twitter’ session, but it was much, much more. We talked about things like how to ensure that everyone who has ‘liked’ you on Facebook sees what you post—pay to push the message through. Or the best times to post on Facebook and Twitter, when more people are on. Thursday afternoons for Facebook, pretty much any afternoon for Twitter, but especially early in the week. Afternoon US time, not Australian time.

Every author must have a website. Blogging, tweeting or being on Facebook are optional—although if you’re not you are reducing the number of fans you are likely to get—but a website is an absolute must-have. Oh, and a dead blog is worse than no blog at all. If you’re not posting regularly on your blog, don’t bother blogging at all.

I could go on. Ginger Clark on the changing role of the agent, Joe Abercrombie in conversation, and more. There were three streams of workshops/panels. I wanted to see almost all of them.

One thing I have to mention though, is the closing debate. Plotters vs Pantsers. Well done to Team Plotter: Kim Wilkins, LA Larkin, Narelle Harris; Team Pantser: Anna Campbell, Lisa Heidke and Daniel O’Malley; and to moderator Kate Eltham. Guys, I don’t know how much planning (plotting?) went into this debate but bravo. What a wonderful way to end a conference.

NaNoWriMo starts on the 1st November.

While both Sherylyn and I would love to do another NaNo, neither of us will be doing it this year.  We’re in the middle of Linesman II, and can’t break in the middle to write a new story.  Plus we need to re-look at Linesman I.

It’s a pity. I had my NaNo story decided months ago.  A light science fiction, a little bit corny but hopefully amusing in parts. I’m not great on humor, but I was going to see what I could do without the humor being too forced. One of the great things about writing so fast is that even if it’s not working, you have only spent a month on it, not six.

Maybe I’ll do my own personal NaNo early next year.

 

We are both taking time out to go to GenreCon Australia.  It’s on the 2-4 November.  If you’re coming along, we look forward to seeing you there.

Last month I wrote about how I frustrated I was that the screenwriters for the movie Invincibles 2 forced the characters into an ending simply because viewers expected it, rather than remaining true to the characters they had created.

I’ve had a month to think about, and realise that maybe I’m the one forcing my expectations on the film, rather than the other way around.

What made me change my mind?

One of my current favourite authors decided to write a Christmas short story based around his two most popular characters.  On his Facebook page he asked his readers to suggest ideas for the story.  The ideas came thick and fast.

I didn’t like a single one of them.

To me, many of the things these readers suggested were totally inappropriate for the characters as I knew and loved them.

Sound familiar?

I thought so too.

All I can do is cross my fingers and hope, please Dear Author, do not listen to these people. I love your ideas. Write the story you want to write, not the one we want you to.

And maybe stop trying to force my version of the Invincibles 2 onto the world.

Today I tried to ring my insurance company.  I dug out last year’s policy. Yes, it had the policy number on it.  Yes it had all the details I needed.  Then I tried to ring them and couldn’t.

Because I couldn’t work out the phone number.

SMS messaging on phones was introduced in the 1990s. Back in those days, and on some phones even now, you typed in a message by pressing a number key once or more times.  For example, if you wanted to type an A you pressed the number 2. If you wanted a B, you pressed 2 twice. For C you pressed 2 three times quickly.  If you wanted a D you pressed 3 once.

I don’t know how much later it was that some advertising guru had a bright idea.  Numbers are hard to remember.  Words aren’t.  I do know the practise has been around in Australia since the early 00’s.

My insurance company didn’t provide me with a phone number, they provided me with a word, INSURANCE, to phone.  (It wasn’t insurance, it was the company name, but I’m making it generic.)  The only trouble was, I was Skyping.  I wanted a number I could type into a field.

So I had to hunt for a phone with the number/letter combination, translate the letters back into numbers, then go back to my computer and finally make the call.

With the advent of smart phones you no longer need to use the number pad on the phone to type letters.  Thus nowadays, the letters on the keypad are there for historical reasons only.  I can foresee a future when they drop off altogether.   What happens to all those clever text phone numbers then?

Replacing numbers with text to make the number easier to read was a good idea, but technology has surpassed it, and in less than 20 years.  If you wrote a book set in the first decade of the 2000’s someone might conceivably type INSURANCE into their phone to ring their insurance company.  I don’t think they’ll be doing it in the second decade.  By the 2020s you probably wouldn’t even understand what it meant.

Technology and science change the world faster than it sometimes seems possible.

Any time you write about technology of the day there’s a good chance it will be obsolete before you are published.  Even songs.  In 1972 pop group Dr Hook and the Medicine Show had a hit with a song called Sylvia’s Mother.  As part of the lyrics the operator keeps chiming in saying, “40 cents more for the next three minutes”.  Even back then subscriber trunk dialling had been around for ten years. How many people born in the last 20 years would understand that line? Not many.

If you can’t even catch the technology changes when writing about the present time, think how difficult it is for the science fiction writer who not only has to extrapolate current technology—what’s going to last, what’s not—but think up new ones as well. Sometimes it’s the little bits of technology that trip us up.

One of my favourite examples of this is Ivan Southall’s Simon Black series.  Southall wrote them over a period of ten years.  The first was written in 1950.  The stories were based around the Firefly, a vertical take-off and landing aircraft (VTOL).  VTOL-type aircraft started being designed in the mid-fifties but their use only took off a decade later.   Southall, a pilot himself, made a good call on this one.

Something he made a bad call on was transistors.  Back in the 1950s they didn’t have transistors, they had big, clunky glass valves that had to be warmed up before you could use them.  He put those into the book too.

So he has a plane that’s the equivalent of, say, a Harrier jet, and they spend a few minutes before every flight warming up the valves before they can go anywhere.

I love Simon Black, but every time I read about him and Alan warming up the valves I remember just how wrong you can be about where science is going, even in the near future.

We cooked lamb roast last night.  As it cooked the scent of the meat and fresh spices wafted around the house, making our mouths water and our stomachs gurgle in anticipation, so that we could hardly wait for dinner.

This morning it was a different story.

The house smells of old meat, of fat, and of brussel sprouts (one of the vegetables we served with the roast) and it’s not at all pleasant.

When this happens we do what most people do, I imagine.  Open the windows and doors, ensure everything is as clean and degreased as it can be, spray air freshener around and wait for the smell to go away.

As I sprayed I couldn’t help but wonder—if someone wrote about my house as it was this morning, in a book, what would they write?

Detective Anders leaned on the doorbell until a woman finally unlocked the door.  She peered out between the door and the chain with one washed-out-blue eye.

I know, she’s a stereotype already, but you don’t get ‘nice’ or attractive people in smelly houses, do you.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

Anders showed her his badge, then waited an interminable age while she unclipped the chain and allowed him in.  Up close she was middle-aged, short but stout, easily half as wide around as she was tall.  Her severely-cut hair was a greasy grey bowl, while her body sagged under her own weight, her jowls seemingly pulled down by gravity.  She turned and stumped her way along the passage to the kitchen.  Anders followed.

The house smelled of fat and old meat, and of boiled cabbages.

I don’t know why, but in the books where a house smells of boiled cabbages, or any cooking smells for that matter, you always know the woman is a slatternly good-for-nothing, a mean landlady, or just generally unpleasant.  She is seldom criminal, just never nice.