Jane Rawson's Blog, page 10

When life gives you rejections

The Lane of Unusual Traders is a great project from Tiny Owl Workshop, a small publisher in Brisbane doing all kinds of interesting things with – in particular – illustrated speculative fiction. Chris White has created a world, the City of Lind, and writers have been encouraged to submit small stories which take place in this world. My story didn’t make the cut, but I reckon it might make the beginning of a nice novella (if I can ever find time to write it…)

Iridescence – Clarity

‘Please,’ Sal begged.

‘Mate.’ Iri was only half listening now – he had accounts to check. ‘I already told you we don’t do replacements.’

‘But I…’

He cut her off. ‘You got the spiel when you came in for the removal. This is a one-way procedure. Once it’s off we can’t put it back. You should’ve done your research.’ He looked up, then wished he hadn’t when he saw Sal’s look of utter despair. His voice softened ‘It’s a serious procedure, Sal. That’s why we make you wait a week. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do now.’ He pushed the cut-glass tray of mints over the counter and went back to his accounts.

Sal took a mint, sucked on it for a second or two while the consequences of her decision roiled through her mind, then realised the mint’s sugar coating was actually a residue comprised of finger-grime, dust and fly shit. She stuck out her tongue and dropped the mint into the road, spat repeatedly to clear the taste from her mouth.

She was too tired to cry any more. She slumped onto an abandoned crate just outside the doorway, banging her head on Iri’s obfuscating sign: ‘See clearly – find your place in the world – know the future and the past’.

See clearly indeed.

She’d wanted clarity; she couldn’t deny that. She’d been fired up, all those years back, when she’d joined the Collective, but lately it seemed she couldn’t remember what it was they were fighting for. She’d felt like she was just getting too old for this shit. She’d put in so much time already – hadn’t she earned some rest among the oblivious, the citizens of Lind?

But Horus had convinced her to give it one last try. Visiting Iri was his idea. He’d promised her that when Iri removed the caul spell, the one cast on every Lind citizen at birth, she’d find her conviction again. She’d have a reason to live.

So she’d done it. The procedure was painless. The procedure was: life without the caul was agony. Suddenly Sal could see the implications of every decision she made. She saw the suffering and slavery woven into every thread of the scarf she’d thoughtlessly bought last Market Day. She heard the waste and agony, the pointless life and painful death, of the beast she’d roasted for her dinner. Nothing she did was without consequence. No consequence could be ignored.

Was there really no way to get her caul back? She cursed Horus, cursed the Collective, cursed the movement and cursed the god-blighted City of Lind for its injustice and cruelty that forced her to fight this stupid fight.

She sat on the crate and gathered her strength. A citizen walked up the steps beside her and seconds later she could hear Iri.

‘Caul spell? Sorry sir, I think you’ve come to the wrong place. I am just a humble optometrist…’

A little author interview…

,,,with Hell Yeah Writer’s Bloc. This is the Tumblr face of The Writer’s Bloc (an online writers’ community), and is a rather chaotic assemblage of cartoons, interviews, illustrations, videos and heaps of other fun stuff. Plus, now, me blathering about how and what I write. It’s here.

Talking sci-fi, on a stage

Remember that time I declared Max Barry was ‘not a genius‘? No? Luckily neither does he, as I will be appearing on a panel with him and other actual writers of speculative fiction – Lucy Sussex and Andrew Macrae – at the Wheeler Centre on 27 October. We’re going to be talking about Australian science fiction: is it any different to that other kind of science fiction? Are there some things Australian sci-fi authors are uniquely placed to write about? 

If you’re in Melbourne (or enjoy pointless travel), why not come along? 

 

Communicating climate is complicated

Sophie Lewis, climate scientist, has posted a great wrap-up today of some of the current thinking on how scientists should talk to the public about climate change. She has kindly quoted a few things I’ve said, but also added some evidence-based insights from real-life experts. It’s a good read. Take a look!

What does an author look like?

Stephen King sells books; many books.

The great thing about being a famous author (I’m guessing here) is you can be incredibly rich and phenomenally well-known and loved, without anyone being particularly sure what you look like. You don’t appear in ‘stars without makeup’ spreads in Who magazine where commentators deride your flaky t-zone. Fans are unlikely to stop you on the street and bother you with requests for selfies when you’re just trying to buy a box of fluted masonry nails.  You can look like crap and people still buy your books: Stephen King, for example, moves a lot of merchandise. Writers get all the perks, none of the drawbacks.

And yet ever since my novel was published I feel like I’m undergoing some kind of physical transformation, trying to make the outer me look more like the inner me. Or at least, marking my change of state from unpublished to published in some exterior fashion. I got my first tattoo. And yesterday I got my hair dyed blue. I don’t really know what’s going on…

Some of this can be excused by the occasional public performance I have to do, like the odd panel or reading. Dressing up is a distraction from the terror of presenting some version of myself on stage (as the always gorgeously put-together and super-smart Angela Meyer discusses here). But I think there’s more to it.

So I’m interested to know: as you’ve come to think more of yourself as a writer, have you tried to display it in some outward change?

The author I most want to look like when I grow up: Marjorie Barnard (photographed by Brendan Hennessy).

History records I am a spec fic writer

Thanks very much to Helen Merrick for interviewing me for this year’s round-up of Australian speculative fiction. It felt a little presumptuous to be saying so much when I know so little, but it was a really fun process. The interview is here, and there are links to all the other bloggers doing interviews at the end of Helen’s post. Enjoy!

Jane bounces her Lychee seeds, what can I say?

Jane bounces her Lychee seeds, what can I say?.

How do you write non-fiction?

I’m researching and writing a non-fiction book, about preparing yourself to survive climate change. I started writing it because I thought it was an interesting topic, one that hadn’t been covered elsewhere in any depth, and one where I have a bit of expertise (thanks to three years as environment editor at The Conversation). A publisher thought it sounded OK too, and gave me a contract, a small advance and a deadline.

I’m pretty sure this is how you write anything, right?

Several months in, it’s dawning on me that I have no idea how to write a non-fiction book. I can write a short essay (if writing about reading on the toilet counts). I can write, kind of, a fiction book (you just make it up, right?). And I figured the skills I’d picked up doing both of those would see me through writing 80,000 words of factpinion. But I’m not sure anymore that’s true. I mean, I don’t even really know how much fact should be in this book, and how much opinion. And I don’t know how rigorous the facts should be. Are there rules?

Over the years I’ve read no end of advice on how to write, but it’s always been directed at fiction writing. And some of those things do still apply for non-fiction: sit down regularly at your writing instrument and put words on it, whether you feel like it or not. Don’t be boring. Cut stuff that doesn’t advance the narrative. But that’s about it…

So does anyone have any tips? Y’know, pithy aphorisms that I can stick above my desk to keep me on the straight and narrow? Help!

I Claudius, toilet reading and where germs come from

Image by Rob Styles/Flickr

Thanks to everyone who participated in my ‘what do you read on the toilet?’ survey. I’ve written up the results and revealed all about my own revolting habits in this post for Writers Bloc: The book that…I read on the toilet.

And the results are in

No, not the Miles Franklin, the answers to my survey about what people read while using the toilet. The unedited graphs are below. As to what people read when they have gastro, you’re all very funny: ‘The book of Job’; ‘Any News Ltd publication. I already have the shits and feel physically ill, so I have nothing to lose’. I’ll be writing an article based on your fascinating insights over the next week or so. And if you still want to do the survey, it’s here.