Over the years, I’ve found myself repeating a few phrases over and over to authors of all levels, including clients, students, and lecture attendees. I eventually started calling them my maxims, and it’s high time I laid them out on my own site. After all, much of the reason for my blog updates is to give me a handy place to put stuff I already repeat a lot, so I can just link people to the post and save time in the future.
Today, it’s Writing is an art, not a science. Kind of obvious, since we call it a creative art rather than a scientific field, but it’s good to really think about what that means — especially authors worried about learning how to “do it right” or violating some kind of rule.
Just a quick little announcement at the request of a friend.
Years ago, Steve Diamond decided to pitch a special edition product to his friend (and now podcast co-host and coauthor), Larry Correia. Larry has a particularly awesome series, which currently consists of a trilogy and some short stories, known as The Grimnoir Chronicles. The elevator pitch for that one is X-Men set in an alternate history 1930s. It’s historical fantasy where the magic operates like superpowers, with everyone who has magic having an innate ability for one particular kind of magic (though you find out that limitation isn’t all it appears to be). It’s an absolutely fantastic story in a high-action noir setting with an unforgettable cast of characters.
Well, Steve wanted to publish a special-edition, limited run version of the trilogy. He sourced extremely high-quality paper, got some awesome covers from the European editions not released in the US, and even got fancy cases to protect each novel. I even had a minor hand in helping to confirm the Japanese lettering was accurate, because I was working a few blocks from the Japanese consulate in DC at the time (which means that if there’s a problem with it after all, it’s my fault, not Steve’s).
I got wiped out by illness last week, but a large number of you wanted another post on ChatGPT, specifically on the ‘idea winnowing’ I mentioned in my last post. (And if you missed the first post, explaining what ChatGPT is and how it works, click this shiny and well-crafted link.)
Just to recap: you’ll see a lot of people referencing ChatGPT as a tool for idea generation. That’s using it the wrong way. Ideas are a dime a dozen. You already have too many of them buzzing around your head; that’s why you feel like you can’t come up with anything, because nothing is standing out. Instead, ChatGPT can be used to winnow that mess down to something manageable.
We do this just as we would without ChatGPT: by focusing on some sort of starting point. That can be something generic, or even starting by rejecting something specific — or both. Try phrasing something as “I want X, but not Y.” For example, “I want a genius scientist character, but I don’t want someone socially inept.” If you were bouncing that off of a friend, he or she might say, “Like Tony Stark?” which then gives you an opportunity to narrow it down, such as by saying “Yes, but not arrogant. Charming, but not full of himself” or maybe “No, more like someone Robin Williams might have played. A joker who doesn’t seem to take things seriously, but actually does.” That’s how idea winnowing works. Like putting together a puzzle, you start with an edge and then explore around to find pieces that can fit.
Congratulations, you’re published! But how can you get your books on shelves where people can see them?
Maybe you lucked out and got published with a house that has a distributor agreement; but that’s not going to get you in all stores or libraries, especially if the person in charge of ordering doesn’t know you exist. They don’t order three copies of everything, after all — or even just one. So is it worth it to talk to stores and libraries?
The short version is, yes, it is. The worst they can do is say no.
Last time, I covered what ChatGPT is, what it isn’t, and some things to keep in mind if you choose to use it to help your fiction. Now we’re going to get into how to use it, or other machine learning programs, to aid your fiction. Though, first, I’m going to try to underscore some of the caution I tried to instill in the last post: do not mistake ChatGPT for an unbiased assistant, talking encyclopedia, or genius author.
ChatGPT is Your Tool, Not Your Coauthor
As I said last time, ChatGPT is a particular tool. On his WriterDojo podcast, Larry Correia frequently describes elements of writing as “another tool in your toolbox,” meaning that you don’t have one tool for all jobs, and not all jobs require all of your tools. It also means you should put in the effort to understand the contents of your toolbox; you can technically split a log with a hammer, but that doesn’t make it a saw.
I’ve talked about games plenty of times on this blog, but I don’t think I’ve ever done a game review. You may have seen the ads for Jedi: Survivor lately, as it’s getting a big push and is highly anticipated by fans, so I thought it makes for a good opportunity to talk about the storytelling power of video games using the original, Jedi: Fallen Order.
Please keep in mind that there will be spoilers in this post. I’ll put up a giant spoiler graphic when we get there so you can’t say I didn’t warn you.
Video Games as Storytelling
Video games occupy several different entertainment niches in our society today, but I want to talk about one in particular: video games as interactive movies. Much like how we often saw Star Trek characters on the holodeck playing parts in a fictional story — either a set story like a Shakespeare play or a choose-your-own-adventure tale — video games are increasingly providing a storytelling experience where, even if there’s really only one scripted outcome, it still takes effort to get there. As a kid, I never understood the appeal of going into the holodeck on the Enterprise to act out a solo performance of Shakespeare for the sake of Shakespeare, but in the last few years video games have been making me take another look. Yeah, it’s a linear story, but it becomes your story as you play. Your actions make it happen. There’s a certain primal joy in that which goes beyond the thrill of completing challenges or defeating enemies.
These days, using AI for anything can be controversial, but even more so for creative endeavors. Is it laziness? Will it ruin your book? Is AI going to reduce human artistry to the level of cottage industry?
At the risk of spoilers, I’m not anti-use-of-AI for your writing, but it is a complicated topic that will require multiple blog posts. For now, to figure out if ChatGPT is useful or not, we first have to define what it is, what it is not, and what legal challenges there might be in using AI-generated content.
Longtime readers of this blog (not to mention those who know me on other forms of social media) are no doubt aware of my addiction to learning new stuff. Well, okay, maybe not any new things; I tend to stay away from celebrity gossip, sportsball statistics (to the endless disappointment of my lovely wife), and reality contest shows that don’t involve Gordon Ramsey.
But if there’s a book that combines science, technology, history, and writing prompts, I’m all over it. That’s at the top of my reading list. There’s no way I’d buy the book on a sale and then let it languish in my to-read pile for five years.
. . . okay, that’s what actually happened with The Knowledge. And yet, before I finished it, it was already one of my favorite books of all time, and at the top of my list of recommendations for anyone writing SF&F — and possibly even as a textbook in certain high school or higher education classes. It’s the best single source for teaching the history of science and technology I’ve ever seen, and it does so from the engaging and entertaining perspective of “Civilization has collapsed; what now?”
As I said a few posts ago, I finally got the push I needed to start updating this site when I agreed to be on the Blasters & Blades show and podcast. The episode was a fireside chat on maps, but as you might expect with seven nerds chatting about things it tangetted a few times. I’m not even the least bit sorry, because it was fun.
Here’s the link to the audio on Spotify, or you can watch the video below for the extra map visuals (and have a better idea of who’s talking).
Episode 243: Fireside Chats: It’s All About Them Maps
Maps a a great bonus to have in fiction, but they should always be a bonus and not strictly necessary to understand the story. You don’t want to depend on readers flipping to the map whenever they get confused; actually, you don’t want them to get confused, period. Instead, you want them to flip to the map when they’re so interested in the story that they want the extra visual. When The Fellowship of the Ring mentions Mordor, the reader should ideally know approximately where it is already before seeing the map, and the map itself should be clarification rather than a primary source.
A simple map is good, like the extremely bare-bones map used for much of the Honor Harrington series by David Weber; it gives the minimum information you need and moves on from there without distracting you. Complex maps like in Tolkien’s Middle Earth setting aren’t complex because of geography, though, as most of the complexity is due to the art itself. That art isn’t there for its own sake, but rather to give the feeling of an expansive world with interesting terrain, full of amazing stories that happen just out of sight of the characters you’re actually following. Both styles help immersion in different ways: one by not getting in the way of your imagination, the other by encouraging your imagination to run a little wild for a while before drawing you back down to (Middle) Earth.
Not all maps are of geography, though, whether geographic or stellar in scope. In a story where relationships are important, like Pride and Prejudice, a character map is very helpful. A ‘murder wall’ or ‘conspiracy map’ can help visualize the connections between various clues and suspects in a mystery or thriller. A timeline is another kind of map, much more linear but full of detail that puts things in context, and can be especially important in settings that reference multiple different calendars, or as a histomap that can show the relative scope of something over time. You might have a diagram of a ship like the Enterprise from Star Trek, or a chart of magical abilities like in several different Brandon Sanderson series. (I’d love to post examples of each of these, but it would make this post rather challenging to scroll through.)
Presenting them as a visual medium, rather than a grand Wall o’ Text, helps a reader absorb the information faster and stay immersed in the story. That’s not to say that blocks of texts aren’t good bonus materials, but they’re better as something your readers can access on a wiki, as part of your Patreon, in your newsletter, or (if you’re really successful) as part of a supplemental behind-the-scenes/about-the-world book that your dedicated fans will snap up, such as The Dragonlover’s Guide to Pern, or the hard-to-find (but I have a copy!) Atlas of the Forgotten Realms.
(Yes, the latter is a D&D campaign setting, so arguably its nature is supplemental materials to begin with, but that particular volume was intended as a supplement to the novels rather than the game. You know, back when those novels were good. Hmm, I should do a blog post on the early Realms materials.)
If your map, whatever it is, has a significant amount of information on it that isn’t relevant to either the story or the map, then you’ve probably included too much. By ‘relevant to the map,’ I mean that there are plenty of map elements that aren’t necessary to the plot but put the map itself in better context by pointing out certain landmarks or making the world feel larger. Your story might mention a particular country but not mention its capital; but if you mention the capitals of two other countries and mark them on your map, you should probably mark the capital of the third, too. However, if you’re detailing a map and the action only takes place in one small corner, your map may be too large; one exception is that if the next few books will go there, putting the larger map in for context might be important.
Conversely, as the series expands, it’s necessary to update the map some more to include places mentioned so far. While I praised the original Honor Harrington map for its simplicity, the way it remained static for so long despite so many star systems being introduced was a detriment until it was finally updated.
There are also in-character, in-world maps that can be very useful in other ways, and we discussed those in the episode above. Check it out, but you might want to grab a drink and a snack first because it’s over an hour long.
Writing a book can be a lot of work. I’ve talked before about how even a complete amateur can get through a first draft in as little as three months with just a couple hours of work per day, but chances are you were thinking, plotting, planning, and obsessing over that manuscript for months, and probably years, before you ever wrote down the first chapter. That’s a lot of investment, and it’s not uncommon for a first book to take years to write when you’re just starting out (or are named George R. R. Martin, but that’s another story).
When you put that much of your heart and soul into a project, tearing it all down to do it again is daunting. “Will it actually improve?” “Is this the best I can do?” “Why redo it from scratch when the story is complete?” “Can’t I just, y’know, edit it a bit?” “What if I spend more time doing it right the first time?” “If it needs rewriting, doesn’t that mean it sucks and I’m a terrible writer?”
The answer to those questions, in order, are: yes; no; because it’s not actually from scratch; no author is that perfect; then you’re actually wasting time and effort; and stop telling yourself that.
1) A person who uses subtlety and a vast array of skills to bring out the best in a story, preferably when the audience least expects it. E.g.: an editor.
2) A blog run by freelance editor Matthew Bowman, focused on advice for writers and reviews for readers.
Writing Maxim #1: Writing is an Art, Not a Science
Over the years, I’ve found myself repeating a few phrases over and over to authors of all levels, including clients, students, and lecture attendees. I eventually started calling them my maxims, and it’s high time I laid them out on my own site. After all, much of the reason for my blog updates is to give me a handy place to put stuff I already repeat a lot, so I can just link people to the post and save time in the future.
Today, it’s Writing is an art, not a science. Kind of obvious, since we call it a creative art rather than a scientific field, but it’s good to really think about what that means — especially authors worried about learning how to “do it right” or violating some kind of rule.
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