The Locus Roundtable was brave kind enough to have Shimmer‘s Editor in Chief Beth Wodzinski and Editor Keffy Kehrli into the studio for another round of their audio interviews.
What’s in store for issues 14, 15, and beyond? What does it take to rise out of the slush pile? Rejectomancy! (Send more? We mean it.) Unicorns! Piers Anthony! “Bullet Oracle Instinct”! Squid! And what’s up with Keffy’s physics degree anyhow?
The kind folks at A Writing Primate asked Beth and Elise a bunch o’questions about Shimmer, writing, and the zombie apocalypse. (Okay, well, two of the three ain’t bad…)
Shimmery creatures have made an excellent showing in The Mammoth Book of Steampunk (editor, Sean Wallace). Amid the table of contents, we spied two reprints from Shimmer #11: “The Mechanical Aviary of Emperor Jala-ud-din Muhammed Akbar” by Shweta Narayan and “The Clockwork Goat and the Smokestack Magi” by Peter M. Ball.
Offerings from other Shimmery folk include: “Clockwork Chickadee” by Mary Robinette Kowal, “To Follow the Waves” by Amal El-Mohtar, and “Icebreaker” by E. Catherine Tobler.
Congrats to all! The book arrives in spring 2012.
Shimmery writer Kate Harrad, who graced us with our first holiday story (“The Winter Tree”) in 2005, has a new short story collection for you to check out. Fausterella and Other Stories collects nine shorts, five of which are new to the volume.
Congrats, Kate!
You will have heard some of these before–I know you have, but have you tried them? I challenge you do so this week! Time’s a wasting. Get cracking.
From the opening of “E.T.,” Katy Perry poses questions that hook you into the song. Who is this person? Is he the devil, is he an angel? How could a person be both things? The contrast captures interest keeps you there until the last beat fades away. She leaps in, she doesn’t take a country drive to get to her point.
Your fiction should do the same thing. Aunt Catherynne told you not to hold back on the ghostpigs, right? So why are you still doing it? Don’t bury them on page five. The editor may never get there. Be specific, be clear, and start with your devils, angels, and ghostpigs. Hook your reader.
The more active you are, the more specific your sentences become, and the more specific your sentences become, the more engaged your reader is.
Perry doesn’t say “you were opening my eyes,” or “you were leading me into the light.” She doesn’t say “I was ready to go.”
“I am ready to go” rules the day. Strike the “was.” Look for strong verbs. Stronger words mean stronger characters and stronger actions.
Here’s one point where I thought pop and fiction might diverge, because you have a smaller canvas when it comes to a song, but! In fiction, it feels like a cheat when a writer says “She was beautiful” and offers nothing else in the way of description. Why is she beautiful? What makes her beautiful to the POV character?
Though you get small bits of description at a time in a song, it contributes to an overall image of a scene, character, setting. Perry layers “E.T.” with description to build an image of an alien (though she also tells us outright that he really is an alien): touch so foreign, magnetizing, different DNA, fill me with your poison, powers, lasers, and…apparently he vibrates!
Expand the initial thought; there are more layers to “beautiful” or “alien.” Explore them.
It’s clear throughout the song what the ending of this story will be; girl goes off with her alien–she’s ready to be a victim of his abduction! Will they live happily ever after? Based on everything that came before, it seems so.
In short fiction, I too often read about an interesting place filled with interesting characters and conflict. That last paragraph should seal the entire deal with a shiny bow, but often, it ends with “And the alien set out to abduct his human lady love.” Really? Seriously? Does a story end with someone setting out to do something? This feels like the beginning, not an ending.
Also: if you’ve seen the video, you’ll know about the ending, which turns the entire story on its head and has it make a new kind of sense. Fiction should do this more!
Sometimes, you do want an adverb, but overall, I’m inclined to avoid them. While my first drafts are riddled with adverbs, they’re something I destroy on an edit. (And see, made an edit there: “seek to destroy” was my first option, but seeking wasn’t active of me. They are something I destroy, period. Doesn’t that feel better?)
The lyrics here need no modifiers as they are strong enough on their own. Supersonic powers; lasers stun; the kiss cosmic, the moves magic. It’s active, it conveys characters and situation both. When you kill adverbs, you get stronger adjectives: cosmic, magic, supersonic. And stronger words mean…stronger characters and a stronger piece of fiction.
Get to it!
Katy Perry lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. “E.T.” lyrics provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Hallo everyone! I’m Shalene, the newest of the Shimmery people. I squinkled (a method of extreme coaxing) my way into the Shimmer slush pile a few weeks ago. Ever since I’ve been diving in and out of stories, gulping down first sentences, middle-paragraphs, and endings, burbling like a happy beluga.
I’m reading everyone’s work.
I’m loving it.
And now that I’m a little bit settled in and getting comfortable, I’m getting delusions of grandeur—in short, a wish list of what I’d like to see more of in stories, and I’ve even provided litmus tests so you can figure out if your story contains these elements.
Things Shalene Wants in Stories:
Reel me in with the first few paragraphs of your story. Keep me interested, engaged. I’m going to read your story three or four times anyway, but if I have trouble looking past the first few pages, then probably a casual reader won’t make it to the end. In general establishing a concrete situation (who, what, where, why) is much more compelling than nebulous (if beautifully written) sensations that force the reader to really work to figure out what’s going on.
Litmus test: Give a friend who likes reading the genre you’re writing the first few pages of a story. Tell ‘em someone else wrote it. Ask them if they want to read more.
One of the challenges of speculative fiction is that the world exists within your head and the reader can’t make any assumptions about what does and does not hold about your world. It’s your job to make understanding the world as easy as possible for your reader. Lay out what is different and explain how it works.
So, Googity is a ghost and slapped the king of ghosts upside the head during a moment of insanity induced by too much grape juice.
Okay, is Googity insane, or would do most ghosts go loopy after drinking grape juice? And if they get loopy, how does ghost society view Googity’s actions? Understandable given circumstances, but shocking? Beyond the pale?
Litmus test: Give an honest friend (the kind who tells you what your haircut really looks like) a highlighter and your story. Tell ‘em to highlight the parts where they lose interest. Right there is where things have stopped making sense, or you’ve info-dumped which leads to 3.
The other challenge of speculative fiction is over-explaining. Too much information about your world and you risk boring the reader. (Tolkien fans may disagree. They also read The Two Towers.) The reasons why things are happening in the world is important, but rule of thumb only include the bare minimum needed to make the story understandable.
Okay, Googity slapped the king because grape juice makes most ghosts lose control of their inhibitions.
No need to explain this is because the sugar in grape juice causes ghosts severe gastrointestinal distress, so the juice flows towards the brain, and ultimately gets lodged in the axons and make it impossible for the neurotransmitters to fire. (Do ghosts even have axons? Ugh. See all the horrible questions this raises.)
Just make sure character motivations are in place, and cause and effect are in place.
Litmus test: See 2.
Yeah, I’m kinda introverted and all, but part of the pleasure of reading is hanging out with characters, relaxing into a story and enjoying the people no matter who they are or what they’ve done. Make your characters come alive. Give them emotions the reader empathize with, quirks that will flesh them out, preferences and habits.
Googity slaps the king. Does he spend the next few months communicating with his friends via messages in bottles because he’s too embarrassed to leave the house? Does he parade down the street with a big sign on his chest: “Slapped the King! I’m da ghost!”? How does his best friend Mizt react? What about Googity’s neighbor, Julk?
Litmus test: After your friend reads the story ask them to describe the characters to you. The characters who get mixed up or forgotten are the ones who didn’t have much of a presence.
Go ahead. Don’t be shy. Make me love your story so much that I ache when it’s over, that the echo of your writing lingers in my memory long after you are finished.
There are no rules on how to do this. My only suggestion is write with great joy. Write because it matters to you, not because you want to see your name in print, or you think stories about ghosts named Googity will sell. If it seems like work, or if it isn’t fun, stop and come back later. Write about Googity because you have something to say about being or doing something stupid, regretting it and moving on. The most memorable stories have themes that strike a chord within people. Love. Loss. Redemption.
Litmus test: A couple weeks after you’ve asked your friend to read your story, ask them what they remember. The more they remember the more of an impression it’s made.
Also, give your friend cookies. They deserve it.
Happy writing!
by Catherynne M. Valente (Feiwel and Friends, May 2011)
3 draughts Wonderland, 2 swallows Oz, 1 trickle Labyrinth, 1 dribble Narnia, 1/2 measure Victoriana, 1 pinch Shakespeare, 1 dash Greek myth
Mix all ingredients thoroughly and when bound into a smooth dough, lift and slice the shadow free. Any blood droplets should be kneaded back into the dough. Set to bake for one hour, until the house smells of vanilla and maple syrup. Serve warm with honey butter on the back of a penny farthing, shared with your very-red wyvern and your best blue boy.
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Does every child dream of escaping their life and running into a land where the cities are made of bread or brocade? Does every child wish they might slip through a wardrobe or a window and discover a thousand new adventures? Surely most do–I did–and so does September, who, if one traced her family tree back, might be sister to Dorothy, Alice, and Persephone. Girls who longed for something different, and got it–in spades.
September doesn’t think she has much of an exciting life, living with her mother and washing teacups aplenty, so is thrilled to bits when the Green Wind arrives to carry her to Fairyland. Fairyland, however, has many more rules than September anticipated, and not every adventure is the lark she thinks it will be. When she accepts a quest from a trio of witches–retrieve their spoon–little does September realize what she has actually embarked upon.
In a bright orange dress and a green smoking jacket which knows how to appreciate its own lines, September sets out to cross Fairyland. She will encounter fabulous friends and terribly enemies, for this is the way of such stories. She will make sacrifices and receive gifts she never imagined. She will learn the worth of herself as well as her own opinions; when September sets out upon the ship in the book’s title, I cheered, for rarely does one find such a brave (and naked) heroine in YA lit.
September’s adventures will take her to lands that are eternally autumn, to the snow-locked north, to the horn of Fairyland where storms cling, and to the capital city itself. Pandemonium has some in common with Valente’s own Palimpsest, a city that is a character in its own right. Much of the landscape here comes to actual life; it only seems right that one finds beaches of gold and gems, migrating bicycles, and prisons of cold glass.
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When I was a kid, graduating to chapter books was a bummer, because I knew I would miss the illustrations. But when I discovered that some of the best chapter books had illustrations before each chapter, my gloom fled. Charlotte’s Web, Little House on the Prairie, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Every chapter would hold a special surprise, because one never knew what they would see. Even Harry Potter continues the tradition today. The Girl is no exception. Each chapter is illustrated by Ana Juan, and her style perfectly captures the wonder of Valente’s Fairyland.
I would have adored this book as a child. Lucky me, I can treasure it even more as an adult.
The Portal has some mighty kind things to say in their in-depth review of Shimmer #13.
The stories themselves, for the most part serious or even melancholy, are built on fresh ideas or at least interesting twists on established ones. Their fantastical elements range from the overt—mermaids and magic portals—to the mere shimmer of possibility hovering just beneath their surfaces. -Jessica Barnes
A long time ago I was working with this computer programer, a guy I honestly didn’t like all that much. He was stiff and conservative and thought I was a hippie freak. One day we were stuck having lunch together and I tried to make conversation by asking what he liked about programming. Suddenly his face lit up, he looked rapt and engaging. He spoke of ideal computer code. It was compact, easy to understand and did exactly what it needed to do in as few lines as possible.
I hadn’t thought of it before, but we designers strive for elegance too. He and I found a little common ground that day. Recently a newer writer in my writing group asked how one should show setting to the reader. I think he was looking for an exact answer like, “Describe at least two things per scene. Use no more than four sentences, but no less than three words.” Of course the answer isn’t that static or simple. Each story needs different things.
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
Neuromancer – William Gibson
Sure, each writer will create setting in their own way, I might do it with simple direct language. Maybe you’ll do it ornately. As always, when you’re writing the first draft, just write. But when you’re rewriting that second draft, you should interrogate each detail.
Does it add to the scene? No? Cut it. Does it contribute to the larger story? Is it clear? Is it interesting? What’s the right balance for that story? Do you have too many details? Not enough? Is your character in a blank room? Do you only have visual details, but no smells or sounds?
Newspaper comic creator Ernie Bushmiller, who did “Nancy” for decades, was famous for using just the right amount of detail. He would draw three rocks to show us there were “some rocks” in the background. Always three. Why? Because two rocks wouldn’t be “some rocks.” Two rocks would be a pair of rocks. Four rocks was unacceptable because it would indicate “some rocks” but it was one rock more than was necessary to convey the idea of “some rocks.”
Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu.
Waiting – Ha Jin
As you look over your writing, you might find elements to combine. Can something be visually presented and also give us an impression of smell? Or texture? It might be useful to go overboard in the first draft and write every detail. Then combine and compress them, see how few words you can use to describe your scene. If you go back and forth between adding and subtracting, you’ll eventually have the exact words that show setting, you might even slip in how the reader should feel about it. Boom! You have strong elegant description.
This process applies to dialog too. Readers mostly care about how the characters feel. They want to know how the characters are bouncing off of each other and how they each view the world. Add and subtract. Once you’ve communicated just what you need to say, it’s probably time to move on. Being elegant means always knowing when to stop. Too much dialog becomes mundane. Too little dialog and the reader might not feel the character. You have to cut out meaningless small talk, mundane things like ordering food or “Hi, how are you?” Replace it with things about the character and the story.
Beyond setting and dialog, elegance applies to all aspects of prose, including structure. How is your information presented? Is each detail coming at the exact time the reader needs it? How you parse out details is like the stones in a river, you don’t want them too close or too far away from each other. You need to build a path from the beginning to the end. That same interrogative technique applies to where you place information. Look at where you bring in detail and information. Have you described a room how a person just walking into it would see it? Is the reader learning things in an order that increases tension and interest? A well structured story is as compelling in structure as it is in content. The right number of words, the right words, showing up at the right time in the right order.
People are saying good things about Shimmer #13. Are you one of them? If you’ve reviewed Shimmer, let us know!
Shimmer Number 13 is here and, once more, is delightful. In a previous review, I said that the stories in Shimmer were like piece of fudge. Well, I read this issue in the week after Easter and it seemed like a Whitman Sampler. I never knew what I was going to get, but none of them were coconut. I never liked coconut. These stories were all caramel, nougat, toffee, cherries and other delightful stuff. – Sam Tomaino, SFRevu
The fantasy here definitely has a darker tint, offering some disturbing images. A good issue. –Lois Tilton, Locus Online
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