D.T. Neal's Blog, page 16
July 8, 2023
Partnership
Writing has been referred to as "the loneliest profession" over the years. Even Stephen King once said it well:
“Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot if difference. They don't have to makes speeches. Just believing is usually enough.”
As I've said before, I'm not bothered by the loneliness of writing, honestly. I'm a loner, by and large, by inclination and temperament. Ergo, I'm well-suited to writing's isolation. That has not and never will bother me the way it seems to hit others.
However, one thing that absolutely does matter is having a good partner who appreciates and believes in your work. That's invaluable.
Having had significant others who didn't believe in my writing, I can say, was painful. For different reasons, I had partners who just didn't like my work (one lacked the imagination to consider stepping out of the mundane world and thought I should write nonfiction; another was trying to write as well and was resentful of my efforts, even though I tried to be supportive of her own work, she never reciprocated).
It's a particular kind of pain only creatives can relate to, when a loved one rejects or dismisses the work that you do. It's like a denial of the validity of a critical part of yourself.
The wounds of that denial can run deep, and I feel bad for any writer (or creative) who has a partner who is unable to appreciate their work and/or resents the time and energy one spends on it. That's rough.
My partner, Christine, actually loves my work, and her support of my writing has meant the world to me. Now I only have to live in terror of letting her down with something I've written sometime in the future, since I've had a good track record over the years. Such is the plight of the creative! (I'd add that she's another creative, too, but works in visual media, so that works out well for us -- we're mutually supportive of each other's work).
But, truly, her support has made a huge difference in my writing life. I'm already my own harshest critic (you have no idea, Gentle Reader, how harsh I am on my own work), so having a supportive partner keeps me from freefalling into the ruinous canyons of writerly self-reproach. I don't know if other writers feel that, but I certainly do.
The irony being that I love a writing project when I'm doing it, and I try to make it as good as I possibly can, but after that, I'm done with it.
And I'd still write, even if I didn't have a partner; but having a supportive partner is the key. Writing's hard enough without getting flogged by a life partner over the work that you're doing; having a partner who appreciates and even loves the work that you do makes it far more bearable.
I guess I'd just say to any creative out there: if your partner doesn't actually respect, appreciate, like, or even love what you're doing, you should jettison that partner.
That may seem cruel or Romantically oblivious, but if you're serious about the work you're doing, then anyone who interacts with you must understand that whatever it is you create, that's an irreducible part of who you are.
Any partner must understand when they become involved with you, they are becoming involved with both you and your creations. And gods forbid if any partner gives you a "it's your art or me" ultimatum -- if somebody does that to you, definitely choose the art (if you want to be a creative; otherwise, just pack it in and stop creating -- true creatives know which path they'll take).
Partnership matters in any relationship with a creative. It's not like your partner needs to subordinate their life to your creative efforts; rather, they just need to understand that you are a creative, and you will create. And hopefully they respect that.
“Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot if difference. They don't have to makes speeches. Just believing is usually enough.”
As I've said before, I'm not bothered by the loneliness of writing, honestly. I'm a loner, by and large, by inclination and temperament. Ergo, I'm well-suited to writing's isolation. That has not and never will bother me the way it seems to hit others.
However, one thing that absolutely does matter is having a good partner who appreciates and believes in your work. That's invaluable.
Having had significant others who didn't believe in my writing, I can say, was painful. For different reasons, I had partners who just didn't like my work (one lacked the imagination to consider stepping out of the mundane world and thought I should write nonfiction; another was trying to write as well and was resentful of my efforts, even though I tried to be supportive of her own work, she never reciprocated).
It's a particular kind of pain only creatives can relate to, when a loved one rejects or dismisses the work that you do. It's like a denial of the validity of a critical part of yourself.
The wounds of that denial can run deep, and I feel bad for any writer (or creative) who has a partner who is unable to appreciate their work and/or resents the time and energy one spends on it. That's rough.
My partner, Christine, actually loves my work, and her support of my writing has meant the world to me. Now I only have to live in terror of letting her down with something I've written sometime in the future, since I've had a good track record over the years. Such is the plight of the creative! (I'd add that she's another creative, too, but works in visual media, so that works out well for us -- we're mutually supportive of each other's work).
But, truly, her support has made a huge difference in my writing life. I'm already my own harshest critic (you have no idea, Gentle Reader, how harsh I am on my own work), so having a supportive partner keeps me from freefalling into the ruinous canyons of writerly self-reproach. I don't know if other writers feel that, but I certainly do.
The irony being that I love a writing project when I'm doing it, and I try to make it as good as I possibly can, but after that, I'm done with it.
And I'd still write, even if I didn't have a partner; but having a supportive partner is the key. Writing's hard enough without getting flogged by a life partner over the work that you're doing; having a partner who appreciates and even loves the work that you do makes it far more bearable.
I guess I'd just say to any creative out there: if your partner doesn't actually respect, appreciate, like, or even love what you're doing, you should jettison that partner.
That may seem cruel or Romantically oblivious, but if you're serious about the work you're doing, then anyone who interacts with you must understand that whatever it is you create, that's an irreducible part of who you are.
Any partner must understand when they become involved with you, they are becoming involved with both you and your creations. And gods forbid if any partner gives you a "it's your art or me" ultimatum -- if somebody does that to you, definitely choose the art (if you want to be a creative; otherwise, just pack it in and stop creating -- true creatives know which path they'll take).
Partnership matters in any relationship with a creative. It's not like your partner needs to subordinate their life to your creative efforts; rather, they just need to understand that you are a creative, and you will create. And hopefully they respect that.
July 7, 2023
Science Friction
As we watch global warming accelerate (I tend NOT to use the corporate-friendly, benignly denialist "climate change" to describe it), causing real effects across the globe, it bothers me terribly.
Much as people will say "we're destroying the Earth," the truth is that we're merely making our habitat unlivable for US as a species (and many other unfortunate species stuck on this ride).
Earth will continue without us. Yeah, it'll be a different Earth, thanks to us, but it'll go on. So, no, we're not destroying the Earth, but we are making it increasingly unfit for human life.
The fact that we've had decades to enact meaningful legislation to deal with global warming and have mostly failed to do so, largely because of the laser-focused Fossil Fuel industry money that powered the climate denialists for decades, intended to derail/scuttle/prevent vital reform that might ameliorate the disaster -- well, that's one of those "why are they extinct?" sort of questions somebody (else) might ask as they walk through the wreckage of our civilization.
The point I'm making in all of this is that this is another reason why Science Fiction is dying out ahead of our species. As I've posted before, we're nearing (or, maybe are even past) this point of reckoning for our species, to the extent that post-apocalyptic science fiction may end up being the only honest SF out there.
Forget space empires, forget space wars, forget cyberpunk, forget utopias, forget space exploration -- no, our descendants may end up fighting over old cans of dog food they manage to scavenge from the ruins of a supermarket.
It galls me that THE ROAD WARRIOR (an excellent movie I love dearly) may end up being our future. Forget civilization, hope, progress, and advancement; no, we may be reduced to simply trying to survive in the hellscape we've created because Big Oil, Coal, and Natural Gas wanted more profits.
Or, if civilization doesn't completely collapse, we may find ourselves in this lifeboat world, where some (smart) societies tend to their own, while others leave their citizenry to fry.
That's the narrative territory we're heading toward, and as a writer, it's jarring to me to reflect upon it. It's a fruitful (if dark) narrative landscape, and anything else is more like SF pipe dreaming at this point.
SF writers are in a real bind if they're trying to forecast some kind of future for our species, because, barring some massive societal change (aka, reform), we're barreling fast toward that post-apocalyptic nightmare.
Much as people will say "we're destroying the Earth," the truth is that we're merely making our habitat unlivable for US as a species (and many other unfortunate species stuck on this ride).
Earth will continue without us. Yeah, it'll be a different Earth, thanks to us, but it'll go on. So, no, we're not destroying the Earth, but we are making it increasingly unfit for human life.
The fact that we've had decades to enact meaningful legislation to deal with global warming and have mostly failed to do so, largely because of the laser-focused Fossil Fuel industry money that powered the climate denialists for decades, intended to derail/scuttle/prevent vital reform that might ameliorate the disaster -- well, that's one of those "why are they extinct?" sort of questions somebody (else) might ask as they walk through the wreckage of our civilization.
The point I'm making in all of this is that this is another reason why Science Fiction is dying out ahead of our species. As I've posted before, we're nearing (or, maybe are even past) this point of reckoning for our species, to the extent that post-apocalyptic science fiction may end up being the only honest SF out there.
Forget space empires, forget space wars, forget cyberpunk, forget utopias, forget space exploration -- no, our descendants may end up fighting over old cans of dog food they manage to scavenge from the ruins of a supermarket.
It galls me that THE ROAD WARRIOR (an excellent movie I love dearly) may end up being our future. Forget civilization, hope, progress, and advancement; no, we may be reduced to simply trying to survive in the hellscape we've created because Big Oil, Coal, and Natural Gas wanted more profits.
Or, if civilization doesn't completely collapse, we may find ourselves in this lifeboat world, where some (smart) societies tend to their own, while others leave their citizenry to fry.
That's the narrative territory we're heading toward, and as a writer, it's jarring to me to reflect upon it. It's a fruitful (if dark) narrative landscape, and anything else is more like SF pipe dreaming at this point.
SF writers are in a real bind if they're trying to forecast some kind of future for our species, because, barring some massive societal change (aka, reform), we're barreling fast toward that post-apocalyptic nightmare.
July 6, 2023
Balkanization Bingo
It's kind of interesting to watch the fractionating of the social media landscape. As the Twit collapses into inevitable ruin as anything but a hatemonger/white supremacy platform, people have been scrambling about for other venues. I won't go into all of them, but there a plenty.
Two of the more recent ones are:
Bluesky (Jack Dorsey's Twitter 2.0, basically)
Threads (Zuckerberg's "Twitter-killer")
Threads just launched yesterday, and it's clear that Zuckerberg had spent time, money, and energy figuring out how he might break the Twit.
The integration of Threads with Instagram and other Facebook properties is likely the killer app that'll make it sink Twitter.
As ever, I'm watching it with a degree of bemusement. Despite being on the Twit for 13 years, and not otherwise making an ass of myself on it, I never had many followers on it, so I never considered it a viable means of marketing my books. And even the people who were following me, only a few ever cross-posted my books, and those never took off.
I approach the other social media channels with that same cynicism -- I establish a toehold in them, post here and there, but I fully know I won't have good follower numbers, regardless of the platform/channel.
Social media remains a roulette table of a means of publicizing books. All you get is a turn at the wheel (as many turns as you like), with very long odds of anything you do becoming viral and/or driving users to actually buy books. And with all the other writers at the same roulette table, pushing their own books? It's a crowded forum.
But the great social media balkanization of '23 will really put the coffin nails in place for writers (especially indie), because people will be splintering and going down different routes. The goal is the same -- the spins at the roulette wheel -- the hope for the jackpot, but for most, it's just not going to happen.
Even the Flavor of the Month folks, who once depended heavily on the Twit, are going to find themselves having to hustle across channels to try to remain relevant.
Will they? I doubt it. All of these social media channels are cultural casinos, with the writers flocking to their respective roulette tables in vain hopes for a win. Back and forth people will go, from casino to casino, praying for the win.
I'll maintain my perfunctory social media presence. But I have no illusions about it. The only thing that matters is the work (aka, the writing). That's the only thing the writer can absolutely control. The rest is gambling.
Two of the more recent ones are:
Bluesky (Jack Dorsey's Twitter 2.0, basically)
Threads (Zuckerberg's "Twitter-killer")
Threads just launched yesterday, and it's clear that Zuckerberg had spent time, money, and energy figuring out how he might break the Twit.
The integration of Threads with Instagram and other Facebook properties is likely the killer app that'll make it sink Twitter.
As ever, I'm watching it with a degree of bemusement. Despite being on the Twit for 13 years, and not otherwise making an ass of myself on it, I never had many followers on it, so I never considered it a viable means of marketing my books. And even the people who were following me, only a few ever cross-posted my books, and those never took off.
I approach the other social media channels with that same cynicism -- I establish a toehold in them, post here and there, but I fully know I won't have good follower numbers, regardless of the platform/channel.
Social media remains a roulette table of a means of publicizing books. All you get is a turn at the wheel (as many turns as you like), with very long odds of anything you do becoming viral and/or driving users to actually buy books. And with all the other writers at the same roulette table, pushing their own books? It's a crowded forum.
But the great social media balkanization of '23 will really put the coffin nails in place for writers (especially indie), because people will be splintering and going down different routes. The goal is the same -- the spins at the roulette wheel -- the hope for the jackpot, but for most, it's just not going to happen.
Even the Flavor of the Month folks, who once depended heavily on the Twit, are going to find themselves having to hustle across channels to try to remain relevant.
Will they? I doubt it. All of these social media channels are cultural casinos, with the writers flocking to their respective roulette tables in vain hopes for a win. Back and forth people will go, from casino to casino, praying for the win.
I'll maintain my perfunctory social media presence. But I have no illusions about it. The only thing that matters is the work (aka, the writing). That's the only thing the writer can absolutely control. The rest is gambling.
July 4, 2023
Summer Movies
Okay, despite loving RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981) as a kid, and even having to make a case for it to persuade my folks that it was worth seeing, and generally enjoying most of the sequels, I admit that I don't particularly care about THE DIAL OF DESTINY (2023).
It's one of those things where I'll get around to it when it finally turns up on streaming. I'm just not in that place where I need to see an Indiana Jones movie. And, judging from the overall floppishness of it (despite getting adequate reviews), it appears that most people are passing on it, too.
Says a lot about the critical condition blockbusters are facing these days. Most moviegoing people just don't have the play money to throw at theaters like they used to. Sign of the times.
That said, there are two movies I intend to catch on the big screen this summer:
OPPENHEIMER (opens July 21)
THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE DEMETER (opens August 11)
That's it for me, movie-wise. I'm fully aware that the former is a three-hour marathon of a movie. That's a big commitment from my POV, but I feel like I need to see that one on the big screen, and reviews of it have been that people have been devastated by the movie, so, I'm thinking that's one I need to see.
The other just looks like one I'd enjoy. I don't feel quite the overall sense of urgency to catch it on the big screen like the other one, but I think it might be fun. We'll see. I always liked the Demeter subplot in DRACULA, so seeing it in a movie might be fun.
However, the only must-see for me in a theater is OPPENHEIMER.
As a movie lover, it's funny for me to reflect on how my movie-watching has absolutely migrated to the small screen, or the wait-until-it-streams ethos. Part of that's the expense of movie-watching, and part of it is just the convenience of streaming.
For all the tribulations of streaming, it's just monumentally more convenient, ergo, there it is. I imagine others are making the same calculation, which is why the movie industry as we know it is likely headed toward niche obsolescence (the way drive-in movies are).
It's one of those things where I'll get around to it when it finally turns up on streaming. I'm just not in that place where I need to see an Indiana Jones movie. And, judging from the overall floppishness of it (despite getting adequate reviews), it appears that most people are passing on it, too.
Says a lot about the critical condition blockbusters are facing these days. Most moviegoing people just don't have the play money to throw at theaters like they used to. Sign of the times.
That said, there are two movies I intend to catch on the big screen this summer:
OPPENHEIMER (opens July 21)
THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE DEMETER (opens August 11)
That's it for me, movie-wise. I'm fully aware that the former is a three-hour marathon of a movie. That's a big commitment from my POV, but I feel like I need to see that one on the big screen, and reviews of it have been that people have been devastated by the movie, so, I'm thinking that's one I need to see.
The other just looks like one I'd enjoy. I don't feel quite the overall sense of urgency to catch it on the big screen like the other one, but I think it might be fun. We'll see. I always liked the Demeter subplot in DRACULA, so seeing it in a movie might be fun.
However, the only must-see for me in a theater is OPPENHEIMER.
As a movie lover, it's funny for me to reflect on how my movie-watching has absolutely migrated to the small screen, or the wait-until-it-streams ethos. Part of that's the expense of movie-watching, and part of it is just the convenience of streaming.
For all the tribulations of streaming, it's just monumentally more convenient, ergo, there it is. I imagine others are making the same calculation, which is why the movie industry as we know it is likely headed toward niche obsolescence (the way drive-in movies are).
July 3, 2023
FIENDS III
This is a nice advanced review of FIENDS III: FINAL HARVEST
It always makes me happy when a reviewer appreciates a work, and this bodes well for FIENDS III. My partner and I worked hard to curate the best possible stories for this anthology, and the writers all delivered:
Die Booth, “Paper Coins”
Ryan Cassavaugh, “The Last Honeyboy”
Dan Coxon, “Come Sing for the Harrowing”
Matt Elphick, “Cooper’s Hill”
Tracy Fahey, “Witchwalking”
J.M. Faulkner, “Radegast”
Timothy Granville, “Sarsen Wood”
Coy Hall, “Herald of the Red Hen”
Fox Claret Hill, “Mrs. Badger’s Bones”
Charlie Hughes, “The Motley”
Rae Knowles, “Mulberry Silk”
Thersa Matsuura, “Child of the Gods”
Catherine McCarthy, “The Sickle and the Tithe”
Damien B. Raphael, “As the Thing is Needed”
Zachary Rosenberg, “The Gods That Drift With Us”
Melissa A. Szydlek, “Back Yonder”
Steve Rasnic Tem, “F is for the Farm”
Richard Thomas, “The Keeper of the Light”
Alex Wolfgang, “Malleability”
We tried to balance both traditional folk horror type stories with other, more experimental ones, and I think we succeeded on this front.
I'm not wistful about the FIENDS anthologies -- I think they were well-timed, exhausting works, and their success has helped ensure at least some strain of literary folk horror will continue, even as mainstream awareness of it grows (and, perhaps, distorts) it.
It's been a journey, but we're ending it on a high note with FIENDS III. Some might wonder why we won't be doing IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, but from our perspective, the series works best as a trilogy. There's a magical unity in a trilogy that we respect.
Anyway, I'm happy the reader enjoyed it, and hope that others do, too.
It always makes me happy when a reviewer appreciates a work, and this bodes well for FIENDS III. My partner and I worked hard to curate the best possible stories for this anthology, and the writers all delivered:
Die Booth, “Paper Coins”
Ryan Cassavaugh, “The Last Honeyboy”
Dan Coxon, “Come Sing for the Harrowing”
Matt Elphick, “Cooper’s Hill”
Tracy Fahey, “Witchwalking”
J.M. Faulkner, “Radegast”
Timothy Granville, “Sarsen Wood”
Coy Hall, “Herald of the Red Hen”
Fox Claret Hill, “Mrs. Badger’s Bones”
Charlie Hughes, “The Motley”
Rae Knowles, “Mulberry Silk”
Thersa Matsuura, “Child of the Gods”
Catherine McCarthy, “The Sickle and the Tithe”
Damien B. Raphael, “As the Thing is Needed”
Zachary Rosenberg, “The Gods That Drift With Us”
Melissa A. Szydlek, “Back Yonder”
Steve Rasnic Tem, “F is for the Farm”
Richard Thomas, “The Keeper of the Light”
Alex Wolfgang, “Malleability”
We tried to balance both traditional folk horror type stories with other, more experimental ones, and I think we succeeded on this front.
I'm not wistful about the FIENDS anthologies -- I think they were well-timed, exhausting works, and their success has helped ensure at least some strain of literary folk horror will continue, even as mainstream awareness of it grows (and, perhaps, distorts) it.
It's been a journey, but we're ending it on a high note with FIENDS III. Some might wonder why we won't be doing IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, but from our perspective, the series works best as a trilogy. There's a magical unity in a trilogy that we respect.
Anyway, I'm happy the reader enjoyed it, and hope that others do, too.
July 2, 2023
Politics as Usual
Some may be concerned that I'm "too political" (e.g., too left-wing -- since right-wing bias doesn't garner the same fretting, curiously enough). And that I might turn off readers.
However, everybody (and everything) is political, if people actually pay attention and think about it. So, I'm being honest when I put my thoughts out there in my writing. Everything you do is rooted in your way of viewing the world.
I'd add that my books aren't polemics, manifestos, or diatribes. But anybody reading my body of work would have an understanding of what I like, and what I dislike in society. That's only fair.
What I have said for decades is that I'm more philosophical than ideological -- with a philosophy, you hold a set of ideas; with an ideology, a set of ideas holds you. That's a strong and important distinction, as I see it.
In these days of boundless outrage over everything, what's a writer to do? I think it's just to write stories that matter to you, and let the chips fall where they may.
I don't write social justice warrior fiction, and I don't write right-wing fiction. I won't say I'm in the middle of those two, because I definitely caucus left. There's nothing "centrist" about my work (and don't even get me started about my critique of centrists; maybe I'll save that for another post).
I'm also not mainstream, conventional, or moderate. I was a punk as a kid (I would joke even then that I was "too punk for punk" -- which those who were punks might get). I have, since then, always adhered to the idea that "punk is an attitude" -- which is to say, you take that with you wherever you go, that spirit of rebellion and autonomy and DIY.
My primary intention in my writing is to tell a compelling story. That's the most important thing to me, and I avoid preachy stories. Characters I create may have particular POVs, but I don't have them proselytize. That lets me achieve what I consider a happy balance between my own ideas and philosophy and the requirements of the book I'm writing.
Nazis are never going to like my books, but Nazis don't like books & reading as a matter of course (they do love book burnings, I might add). I don't write for them.
Communists aren't going to like my books, for that matter. But I don't write for them, either.
People who are dogmatic, doctrinaire, censorious, conventional, tame, and close-minded aren't going to like my books, even if they bothered to read them. They're not my audience (haha, what audience I have).
People who like thoughtful, unconventional stories tend to like my books. Those are the readers I'm writing for. That's the audience I'm forever trying to grow.
The fact that it's so hard to do so makes me wonder how many thoughtful and unconventional people there are out there, compared with the squeaky wheelers screaming about everything that enrages and outrages them. My work's not for norms (hell, I even titled a novel NORM as a kind of in-joke along those lines. Btw, almost nobody has read NORM, but they should. It's one of my best novels).
Anyway, there it is. I write what I write. My agenda is to write what I would want to read. That's the deep, dark secret of what I'm out to do: I want to write books that readers want to read.
However, everybody (and everything) is political, if people actually pay attention and think about it. So, I'm being honest when I put my thoughts out there in my writing. Everything you do is rooted in your way of viewing the world.
I'd add that my books aren't polemics, manifestos, or diatribes. But anybody reading my body of work would have an understanding of what I like, and what I dislike in society. That's only fair.
What I have said for decades is that I'm more philosophical than ideological -- with a philosophy, you hold a set of ideas; with an ideology, a set of ideas holds you. That's a strong and important distinction, as I see it.
In these days of boundless outrage over everything, what's a writer to do? I think it's just to write stories that matter to you, and let the chips fall where they may.
I don't write social justice warrior fiction, and I don't write right-wing fiction. I won't say I'm in the middle of those two, because I definitely caucus left. There's nothing "centrist" about my work (and don't even get me started about my critique of centrists; maybe I'll save that for another post).
I'm also not mainstream, conventional, or moderate. I was a punk as a kid (I would joke even then that I was "too punk for punk" -- which those who were punks might get). I have, since then, always adhered to the idea that "punk is an attitude" -- which is to say, you take that with you wherever you go, that spirit of rebellion and autonomy and DIY.
My primary intention in my writing is to tell a compelling story. That's the most important thing to me, and I avoid preachy stories. Characters I create may have particular POVs, but I don't have them proselytize. That lets me achieve what I consider a happy balance between my own ideas and philosophy and the requirements of the book I'm writing.
Nazis are never going to like my books, but Nazis don't like books & reading as a matter of course (they do love book burnings, I might add). I don't write for them.
Communists aren't going to like my books, for that matter. But I don't write for them, either.
People who are dogmatic, doctrinaire, censorious, conventional, tame, and close-minded aren't going to like my books, even if they bothered to read them. They're not my audience (haha, what audience I have).
People who like thoughtful, unconventional stories tend to like my books. Those are the readers I'm writing for. That's the audience I'm forever trying to grow.
The fact that it's so hard to do so makes me wonder how many thoughtful and unconventional people there are out there, compared with the squeaky wheelers screaming about everything that enrages and outrages them. My work's not for norms (hell, I even titled a novel NORM as a kind of in-joke along those lines. Btw, almost nobody has read NORM, but they should. It's one of my best novels).
Anyway, there it is. I write what I write. My agenda is to write what I would want to read. That's the deep, dark secret of what I'm out to do: I want to write books that readers want to read.
June 30, 2023
Nothing Personal
One thing I should probably clarify (not that anybody wants that, particularly), but in the endless promotional footrace on the Twit and, say, Goodreads, there are people who manage to get piles of ratings and reviews, and those who don't (aka, me).
So, whenever someone who's able to get those scads of ratings, reviews, and boosts puts one of their books out there, I always think "Well, they clearly don't need MY help."
Whether those boosts, ratings, and reviews actually drive sales is up for debate, but as someone who is routinely underrated and underreviewed, who has around 700 Twit followers after 13 years (!!) contrasted with folks who have thousands of followers (whatever those actually mean) after being only a few years on the Twit, I hope you'll understand my reticence toward lifting boats that appear to already be lifting by those rising tides. I mean, look at my body of work again:
RELICT: 66 ratings (3.82 avg), 15 text reviews
SAAMAANTHAA: 26 ratings (3.88), 5 text
SUMMERVILLE: 24 ratings (4.0), 10 text
THE CURSED EARTH: 15 ratings (4.2), 15 text
NIGHTFISH: 11 ratings (4.82), 5 text
SUCKAGE: 9 ratings (4.44), 4 text
CHOSEN: 8 ratings (4.62), 4 text
THE HAPPENING: 8 ratings (3.75), 1 text
THE THING IN YELLOW: 6 ratings (4.5), 4 text
NORM: 3 ratings (5.0), 1 text
Only RELICT has garnered a decent number of ratings; the rest? Not so many. Are ratings and reviews indicators of quality? Not really. But they're indicative of successful book-pushing.
In fact, in most cases, when I see others touting their books, they're begging for 80, 90, 100+ ratings and reviews for their books. Most often because they're already gotten piles of ratings and reviews. They're higher on Ratings & Reviews Hill and want to get higher still.
For me, it's like when somebody's got 3K, 4K, 15K followers on the Twit, and they're begging for more followers. Me, sitting on my paltry 700-ish pile of followers, I only look at that and think "What, YOU need more help from ME?"
Give me a break. I mean it when I say it's nothing personal to those of you who've managed to garner those ratings & reviews (however you got them, whatever they precisely mean).
All I know is I'm most certainly swamped by that supposed rising tide folks claim is lifting everybody. Most of the booster brigade (hell, who am I kidding -- nearly all of the booster brigade) are boosting other books that aren't mine. From my POV, that's a game they can all play with themselves; I'm clearly not part of that game -- not just because their books don't appeal to me; but also because I have nothing to give.
That's why I don't tend to boost other books beyond the obligations I already have. I leave that playing field to the players who're supposedly crushing it.
Will these literary luminaries still be here in another five years? Who knows? But right now, they're all scratching each other's backs (among other things), and I'm not putting myself in that prone position to be a stepping stool for them to scale ever higher.
Call it envy, if you want. For me, it's just common sense.
Similarly, I'm not going to help a millionaire get richer -- why? He's already rich; he doesn't need my help, and I don't want to humiliate myself in so doing (not that many indie writers at all are remotely at risk of being millionaires).
"Won't you do YOUR part to lift me still higher, Plebe?" No chance. I guess that means I'm not part of "the community."
So, whenever someone who's able to get those scads of ratings, reviews, and boosts puts one of their books out there, I always think "Well, they clearly don't need MY help."
Whether those boosts, ratings, and reviews actually drive sales is up for debate, but as someone who is routinely underrated and underreviewed, who has around 700 Twit followers after 13 years (!!) contrasted with folks who have thousands of followers (whatever those actually mean) after being only a few years on the Twit, I hope you'll understand my reticence toward lifting boats that appear to already be lifting by those rising tides. I mean, look at my body of work again:
RELICT: 66 ratings (3.82 avg), 15 text reviews
SAAMAANTHAA: 26 ratings (3.88), 5 text
SUMMERVILLE: 24 ratings (4.0), 10 text
THE CURSED EARTH: 15 ratings (4.2), 15 text
NIGHTFISH: 11 ratings (4.82), 5 text
SUCKAGE: 9 ratings (4.44), 4 text
CHOSEN: 8 ratings (4.62), 4 text
THE HAPPENING: 8 ratings (3.75), 1 text
THE THING IN YELLOW: 6 ratings (4.5), 4 text
NORM: 3 ratings (5.0), 1 text
Only RELICT has garnered a decent number of ratings; the rest? Not so many. Are ratings and reviews indicators of quality? Not really. But they're indicative of successful book-pushing.
In fact, in most cases, when I see others touting their books, they're begging for 80, 90, 100+ ratings and reviews for their books. Most often because they're already gotten piles of ratings and reviews. They're higher on Ratings & Reviews Hill and want to get higher still.
For me, it's like when somebody's got 3K, 4K, 15K followers on the Twit, and they're begging for more followers. Me, sitting on my paltry 700-ish pile of followers, I only look at that and think "What, YOU need more help from ME?"
Give me a break. I mean it when I say it's nothing personal to those of you who've managed to garner those ratings & reviews (however you got them, whatever they precisely mean).
All I know is I'm most certainly swamped by that supposed rising tide folks claim is lifting everybody. Most of the booster brigade (hell, who am I kidding -- nearly all of the booster brigade) are boosting other books that aren't mine. From my POV, that's a game they can all play with themselves; I'm clearly not part of that game -- not just because their books don't appeal to me; but also because I have nothing to give.
That's why I don't tend to boost other books beyond the obligations I already have. I leave that playing field to the players who're supposedly crushing it.
Will these literary luminaries still be here in another five years? Who knows? But right now, they're all scratching each other's backs (among other things), and I'm not putting myself in that prone position to be a stepping stool for them to scale ever higher.
Call it envy, if you want. For me, it's just common sense.
Similarly, I'm not going to help a millionaire get richer -- why? He's already rich; he doesn't need my help, and I don't want to humiliate myself in so doing (not that many indie writers at all are remotely at risk of being millionaires).
"Won't you do YOUR part to lift me still higher, Plebe?" No chance. I guess that means I'm not part of "the community."
June 29, 2023
Word Pimpin' Ain't Easy
This story just pisses me off...
Man Uses AI to Write 97 Terrible Books
I call these people "word pimps" -- I refused to actually call them writers. There'll be more as generative AI continues to gain traction.
And while the article talks about the books created were truly junk, and the guy sold only $2000 worth of them, it's still frightening for a flesh & blood writer like myself, who's devoted most of his life to writing.
As the technology improves, there's at least the possibility that AI word pimpery will improve. That's the nature of technology.
The only thing I'd say is that the discernment necessary in storytelling will perhaps stymie the word pimps. Simply put: if you're the sort of creep who tries to do this, you're too lazy to actually review the work and already lack the ability to do it yourself, so, you still suck, even if the AI is churning out content for you.
Word pimps aren't storytellers; they are frauds and charlatans hoping to make a quick buck.
My concern is mostly about them tossing out this prose pollution into the already packed waters of publishing. You've seen my grousing about junk writing before, how hard it makes it for actual writers to be seen. The arrival of the word pimps will put even more junk writing into the waters.
The only solace I tell myself is this AI maelstrom will put a higher value on writing as a boutique art than in years past. The system might rely on AI in some fashion, but the ability to tell a good story (versus a formulaic one) will remain a valuable human commodity.
The first to fall among the writing world will be the junk writers and the mediocre writers. AI will steamroll them in time. The better writers (and, yeah, I include myself among them. Try reading my books and you'll see) may have a longer shelf life, despite the efforts of the word pimps, for the reasons I said above.
Word pimps aren't storytellers; they're hustlers. And while writers these days need to hustle, there's at least a genuine work they're offering, versus the artificial. My admittedly idealistic hope is that human writers can elevate themselves as such, even as the word pimps clog the publishing waterways with their junk.
Man Uses AI to Write 97 Terrible Books
I call these people "word pimps" -- I refused to actually call them writers. There'll be more as generative AI continues to gain traction.
And while the article talks about the books created were truly junk, and the guy sold only $2000 worth of them, it's still frightening for a flesh & blood writer like myself, who's devoted most of his life to writing.
As the technology improves, there's at least the possibility that AI word pimpery will improve. That's the nature of technology.
The only thing I'd say is that the discernment necessary in storytelling will perhaps stymie the word pimps. Simply put: if you're the sort of creep who tries to do this, you're too lazy to actually review the work and already lack the ability to do it yourself, so, you still suck, even if the AI is churning out content for you.
Word pimps aren't storytellers; they are frauds and charlatans hoping to make a quick buck.
My concern is mostly about them tossing out this prose pollution into the already packed waters of publishing. You've seen my grousing about junk writing before, how hard it makes it for actual writers to be seen. The arrival of the word pimps will put even more junk writing into the waters.
The only solace I tell myself is this AI maelstrom will put a higher value on writing as a boutique art than in years past. The system might rely on AI in some fashion, but the ability to tell a good story (versus a formulaic one) will remain a valuable human commodity.
The first to fall among the writing world will be the junk writers and the mediocre writers. AI will steamroll them in time. The better writers (and, yeah, I include myself among them. Try reading my books and you'll see) may have a longer shelf life, despite the efforts of the word pimps, for the reasons I said above.
Word pimps aren't storytellers; they're hustlers. And while writers these days need to hustle, there's at least a genuine work they're offering, versus the artificial. My admittedly idealistic hope is that human writers can elevate themselves as such, even as the word pimps clog the publishing waterways with their junk.
June 28, 2023
Sci Fidelity 2
So, picking up on where I'd posted earlier about SF, I feel like any space opera or equivalent technofantasy is just that -- wishful thinking that humanity's even going to survive to colonize other planets.
Sure, THE EXPANSE is fun, and the fandoms of STAR TREK and STAR WARS endure for a reason -- they're SF fantasies.
Right now, in terms of us as a species, we're far closer to the grim post-apocalyptic worlds of THE ROAD WARRIOR or even WATERWORLD than we are to anything that gets us off the planet.
Which speaks to the real problems we face as a species, and why SF is headbutting into a wall of human limitation. It's not that we can't solve problems needed to advance as a species; so much as the lift is likely more than most are willing to take in the time we have before extinction wipes us out.
SF carries with it a hope for human progress, or some sort of triumph of the human spirit in the face of the forces that are grinding it down. However, much of that requires overlooking so much in human nature that keeps us captive to the planet.
I wrote a SF novel that'll be coming out in '24 that actually tackles this -- the need for progress coupled with humanity's stubborn resistance to it. It's intended to show that there's a way we need to go as a species, along with a despair that we'll even get there. It manages to be both optimistic and pessimistic at the same time.
In my collection of SF short stories (SINGULARITIES), I devoted a lot of time to social science fiction, which I think is central to where SF needs to be concentrating if we're hoping to not just wallow in technofantasy.
That's where I see SF as still having a critical role as a literary form. We need to wean ourselves of the enticements of technofantasy and really explore what's wrong with the human condition, and why. Maybe there is no answer for it, which is why SF is hitting that wall.
Barring the arrival of aliens and/or a renaissance in human ethics leading to a wave of human rights improvements, we just may be doomed as a species. Not something people want to think about, I'm sure.
But it's something we need to think about if we're going to progress. Too much SF softpedals the problems we face today as a way of vaulting to some hypothetical future (either utopian or dystopian, it hardly matters).
Sure, THE EXPANSE is fun, and the fandoms of STAR TREK and STAR WARS endure for a reason -- they're SF fantasies.
Right now, in terms of us as a species, we're far closer to the grim post-apocalyptic worlds of THE ROAD WARRIOR or even WATERWORLD than we are to anything that gets us off the planet.
Which speaks to the real problems we face as a species, and why SF is headbutting into a wall of human limitation. It's not that we can't solve problems needed to advance as a species; so much as the lift is likely more than most are willing to take in the time we have before extinction wipes us out.
SF carries with it a hope for human progress, or some sort of triumph of the human spirit in the face of the forces that are grinding it down. However, much of that requires overlooking so much in human nature that keeps us captive to the planet.
I wrote a SF novel that'll be coming out in '24 that actually tackles this -- the need for progress coupled with humanity's stubborn resistance to it. It's intended to show that there's a way we need to go as a species, along with a despair that we'll even get there. It manages to be both optimistic and pessimistic at the same time.
In my collection of SF short stories (SINGULARITIES), I devoted a lot of time to social science fiction, which I think is central to where SF needs to be concentrating if we're hoping to not just wallow in technofantasy.
That's where I see SF as still having a critical role as a literary form. We need to wean ourselves of the enticements of technofantasy and really explore what's wrong with the human condition, and why. Maybe there is no answer for it, which is why SF is hitting that wall.
Barring the arrival of aliens and/or a renaissance in human ethics leading to a wave of human rights improvements, we just may be doomed as a species. Not something people want to think about, I'm sure.
But it's something we need to think about if we're going to progress. Too much SF softpedals the problems we face today as a way of vaulting to some hypothetical future (either utopian or dystopian, it hardly matters).
June 26, 2023
Sci Fidelity
One thing that's hammered people a bit is the idea that Science Fiction & Fantasy are basically dying genres (particularly the SF portion).
As the world continues to drift deeper into dystopia, I think there's a reason for the plight of SF, honestly.
Namely, that humanity's heading toward a wall -- whether it's a Great Filter and/or our eventual/inevitable extinction -- we're finding it harder to be hopeful about the future. People feel it in general. I mean, even the billionaires are cranky.
And that's (in my opinion) a big part of the problem. Is the planet a playground for billionaires, with the rest of us just human debris? That's what it comes down to -- the planet's not big enough for too may billionaires, because they end up a drag on politics and resources.
Think about it -- what's likelier to happen today: politicians do something that screws over millions of low-wage workers or something that'll piss off a few billionaires? You already know the answer.
If humanism means placing value on human life and dignity, plutocracy means placing value on the rich, and screwing everybody else.
In the 21st century, there's no excuse for humans living subsistence lives -- there's no excuse for poverty and misery, except as an instrument of social control that favors the rich and powerful and hoses everybody else.
That's why SF is crumbling and/or simply becoming technofantasy -- it becomes harder to imagine progressive futures in a world held captive to an 18th century economic system like capitalism.
Is it utopian to think that everyone should have shelter, food, healthcare, leisure time? We have the resources the make this possible.
And some might instinctively scream "socialism!" as if the above was heretical. As if everybody was just a billionaire in waiting.
Newsflash: you'll never be a billionaire. The top 1% are the top 1% for a reason -- most won't ever be fortunate enough to make it.
So, we're faced as a species with making a world safe for billionaires, or a world safe for the rest of us unfortunates.
Until that question is resolved (and, spoiler warning, right now, the billionaires are crushing it), our future as a species is in doubt.
A world safe for billionaires, is a ruined world, a hell for everybody else (and even, paradoxically, hell for billionaires, too, since they're basically captive in their gilded cages).
As the planet moves further into true globalism (in that humans realize that what happens in one country can affect the rest of the world), we're going to need to change our thinking.
How does this roll back into the plight of SF? It's because all of this stuff above weighs down our prospects for progress as a species, makes the post-apocalyptic collapse of civilization our likeliest future.
That's part of why SF has suffered -- in decades past, SF writers had the luxury of optimism. Today? Not so much.
I'll likely write more on this in the future....
As the world continues to drift deeper into dystopia, I think there's a reason for the plight of SF, honestly.
Namely, that humanity's heading toward a wall -- whether it's a Great Filter and/or our eventual/inevitable extinction -- we're finding it harder to be hopeful about the future. People feel it in general. I mean, even the billionaires are cranky.
And that's (in my opinion) a big part of the problem. Is the planet a playground for billionaires, with the rest of us just human debris? That's what it comes down to -- the planet's not big enough for too may billionaires, because they end up a drag on politics and resources.
Think about it -- what's likelier to happen today: politicians do something that screws over millions of low-wage workers or something that'll piss off a few billionaires? You already know the answer.
If humanism means placing value on human life and dignity, plutocracy means placing value on the rich, and screwing everybody else.
In the 21st century, there's no excuse for humans living subsistence lives -- there's no excuse for poverty and misery, except as an instrument of social control that favors the rich and powerful and hoses everybody else.
That's why SF is crumbling and/or simply becoming technofantasy -- it becomes harder to imagine progressive futures in a world held captive to an 18th century economic system like capitalism.
Is it utopian to think that everyone should have shelter, food, healthcare, leisure time? We have the resources the make this possible.
And some might instinctively scream "socialism!" as if the above was heretical. As if everybody was just a billionaire in waiting.
Newsflash: you'll never be a billionaire. The top 1% are the top 1% for a reason -- most won't ever be fortunate enough to make it.
So, we're faced as a species with making a world safe for billionaires, or a world safe for the rest of us unfortunates.
Until that question is resolved (and, spoiler warning, right now, the billionaires are crushing it), our future as a species is in doubt.
A world safe for billionaires, is a ruined world, a hell for everybody else (and even, paradoxically, hell for billionaires, too, since they're basically captive in their gilded cages).
As the planet moves further into true globalism (in that humans realize that what happens in one country can affect the rest of the world), we're going to need to change our thinking.
How does this roll back into the plight of SF? It's because all of this stuff above weighs down our prospects for progress as a species, makes the post-apocalyptic collapse of civilization our likeliest future.
That's part of why SF has suffered -- in decades past, SF writers had the luxury of optimism. Today? Not so much.
I'll likely write more on this in the future....
