Suspending disbelief gives a story a better sense of self. In any genre, that’s the one thing authors need the most to tell a story.
I hate destiny. Not heroes. Not villains. Destiny. That unseen, guiding force of the universe that dictates the way of things. It’s annoying.
There are two schools of thought when it comes to magic: Does it act as part of, or separate from, its environment?
Here’s a question for you: If you have a ship, and you replace everything about that ship (planks, nails, canvas, oars, etc.) is it still the same ship? Likewise, if you have an idea, and you replace everything about that idea . . . is it the same idea?
When you think about the word, space, what comes to mind? For me, it’s the inky blackness that our planet moves through every hour and second. (If that’s a little dramatic, bear with me.) Space is big. Really big. So big we had to invent a word for all that empty space. And somehow, in the middle of all that emptiness, science fiction capitalizes on stories about interstellar travel and galactic intrigue while everyone back on Earth stays more or less the same as when our heroes left. (Not possible, due to time dilation. Thanks, relativity!) Which leads all science … Read More
Let’s face it: In the face of new media, writing is a hard sell. Your words are competing with flashing lights, cool explosions, awesome sound design, compelling narratives, and the fact that reading is a more demanding hobby that most other leisure activities. And now, the Internet is basically a black hole from which no time can escape.
So what does writing have going for it?
Have you ever wanted to grab someone by the teeth and yank them across the room? Because, in writing, that’s what you’re supposed to do all the time.
The question that always catches me up with magic is this: When magic becomes mundane, does the wizard use it to turn a profit?
And nobody ever talks about it.
We’re all familiar with this scene:
It’s dark. The assassin slips into the home undetected. He moves through the house without a sound. Up the stairs, past the sleeping children. He doesn’t even wake the dog. He creeps into the bedroom of Soon-To-Be-Murdered and grins. Too easy, too easy.
I’m a bit of a hoarder.
You won’t find me keeping every piece of kitchenware I’ve ever owned or a nice tower of televisions in my home. Most material things, I don’t want to hang onto.
But words and paragraphs? Until recently, I hung onto those like a lifeline.