Roger and Me

I’ve created a new category called “squee” just for this post.

I received an email from my friend Moshe Feder concerning the work of a friend of his named Ted Krulik.  Ted is, apparently, as big a Zelazny fan as I am but more ambitious, and interviewed Roger many times over the years.  He is hoping to publish this collection of interviews, and, needless to say, I really really hope this happens.  More Roger = better world.

One section of the interviews concerned, ahem, me.  It took place at Necronomicon, Tampa, Florida, 1985, and this is the section Moshe was kind enough to send me, and which Mr. Krulik was kind enough to give me permission to post here.   With my thanks to them both, I now reproduce it without further comment.

 

                                      “Helping a Young Writer in Hell”

Steven Brust was just starting out, and his publisher sent me his novel Jhereg just to read and see if I cared to give them a publication quote to promote the book.  Along with Jhereg, they included his second book, Yendi.  I read them both and liked them.

When Brust heard I’d commented on Jhereg, he dropped me a line thanking me.  Then he sent me a copy of the manuscript of his latest novel, To Reign in Hell.  He wrote, “Ace purchased this one but, in the meantime, it’s going into a limited edition by a local outfit called Steel Dragon Press.  Ace felt that it was all right to use the quote you had given for Jhereg, but I don’t feel quite right about it.  If you have time to read To Reign in Hell, I’d appreciate your taking a look.  This is an extra copy.  You can throw it away.  If you don’t have the time, I’ll understand.”

So I took a look at the first few pages and got into it.  Instead of giving them a comment, I liked this stuff so much I decided to write something at greater length and help the guy out.  I wrote the introduction that was included in To Reign in Hell completely unsolicited.  I’d never done that before, but I was particularly taken by his writing.

Most writers have only one strong point, but Brust has several.  I like his dialogue and descriptions.  He has a sense of humor that is similar to my own.   It’s true that someone who might appeal to me most is a writer who sounds like me.

In fact, he called me up the other day.  He works with computers, and he said he’s quitting his job.  He’s leaving in a couple of weeks to write full time.  I hope he makes it.

Fantasy Series: Keeping the Big Secret

I’ve mentioned before that one of the things I do when I’m struggling with a book is read nice things people have said about my stuff–it helps me get cocky, and that helps me write. This often leads me to reread Jo Walton’s stuff on Tor.com because, well, it says nice things. Today I noticed the following thing she said: “I think Brust must be the best person at keeping a secret in the world. There are revelations late in the series that it’s quite clear, on re-reading, that he knew about and was hinting at all the time.”

This gave me to think. At the time, I never considered it as, “I have to find the right moment to reveal this thing.” In fact, I don’t ever remember thinking that. For one thing, it contradicts the “burn story” rule that I have at least tried to keep as a guideline. So, how, in a long series, do you keep the Big Secret until the right moment for the reveal while simultaneously burning as much story as you have wood for? Well, here’s the thing: You don’t. It’s never about keeping anything secret, exactly. It’s simply an extreme case of that other rule, the one about the writer knowing more than the reader.

****** Spoiler for Orca ******

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, certainly, I knew all along that Kiera was one of Sethra’s disguises; it was a necessary and not terribly brilliant part of defining Sethra’s character that she would want to keep informed of what the Jhereg were up to, and, if she were to be a thief, obviously she’d be a very good one. But I never said to myself, “I will save this revelation until the right book.” For one thing, when I wrote Jhereg, I had no idea there would be any others.  What I told myself was, “This will probably never emerge, but it will have a huge effect on the relationship between Vlad and Sethra, and thus on Vlad’s entire career and development.” No one was more surprised than me when I suddenly came to a moment when it seemed right, necessary, and cool to let the reader in on that–in fact, the only thing I had to do was go back and plant a couple little things to explain how Vlad figured it out.

 

 

****** End Spoiler ******

 

 

 

James D. MacDonald, in his lecture at Viable Paradise, displays a miniature house he built and talks about how he constructed it. There is a room where there is a figure of a guy that you can’t see because it is fully enclosed. But, Jim says, he knows it is there, and that knowledge informs how he constructed the house. This is a perfect metaphor. There are many things I know about the world I’m building, and the relationships among the characters, that never make it into the stories, but that, simply because I’m aware of them, have an effect, greater or lesser, on what happens. So, then, the “reveal the big secret” moment never, to me, feels like, “Now I can finally reveal that,” but rather, “Oh, the story would be really cool if this happened right here, and, hey, look, I just happen to have that all set up; ain’t I clever?”

My point is not, in fact, that I’m especially clever. My point is that the old chestnut that speaks of knowing things about your world that you do not reveal not only gives your world additional depth, but can sometimes pay off in other ways. As long as you aren’t so cryptic about so many things that the reader is left in a fog (or you, as a writer, get so wrapped up in inventing things that you never write the story), there is no downside to knowing things you don’t reveal.

Answering My Reviewers

I know you aren’t supposed to answer your reviewers, but, hey, rules are made to be broken. I have considered all of my reviews carefully, and it seems to me that it would be worthwhile to investigate some of the literary, epistomological, and political assumptions that underlie some of the things that have been said about my books over the last 31 years.

So, after much thought, here are my replies:

 

Okay, good point.

Bollix.

Thanks.

Did you even read it?

Your face is boring.

No, you’re wrong, you really liked it.

Thanks.

And you’re another.

Do you eat with that mouth?

Your mom is boring.

Thanks.

Compared to what?

Uh, maybe.

Really? That’s what you got out of that? Are you stupid?

Your mom’s face is boring.

Thanks.

Oh, yeah?

 

There, that should about cover it.

 

Not Required Reading

In my last blog post, I referred to this thing that is going on. In the comments, there is discussion of creating a list of authors whose books were unfairly trashed.

L. Raymond, frequent commenter on this blog, has put together a list–probably not exhaustive, but substantial. I would like to suggest that, if you’re looking for something to read–and even better, to review–you consider the books on this list. Because the books were unfairly trashed by a toxic troll does not mean they’re good; but it doesn’t mean they’re bad, either.  I think fair, even-handed reviews are just what is called for.

Note: These are all Amazon links; obviously, if you feel about Amazon the way I do, feel free to pick them up elsewhere, otherwise don’t worry about it.

Here is the list L. Raymond put together.  You are welcome to add to it in comments.

Brown, Rachel Manija
Andreadis, Athena
Bacigalupi, Paolo
Bakker, R. Scott
Bishop, Anne
Gaither, Chelsea
Goldberg, Melissa
Harris, Charlaine
Jemisin, NK
Kowal, Mary Robinette
Kress, Adrienne
Loenen-Ruiz, Rochita
Lord, Karen
McCalmont, Jonathan
Paget, Colum
Pon, Cindy
Rothfuss, Patrick
Sperring, Kari
Sullivan, Tricia
Williams, Liz

Viable Paradise 18 Report

Dreading the one-on-one about the story I couldn’t get into: Check

Being the only one in the small group who thought a story was wonderful: Check

That helpless feeling when I couldn’t fix a story: Check

That triumphant feeling when I could: Check

Too much alcohol and too little sleep: Check

Getting pissed off at fellow instructor only to realize it was caused by the above conditions: Check

Saved by the staff: Check

Fleeting unreasonable crush on student: Check

Seeing a student bounce about how TNH had fixed the whole story with just a couple of tweaks: Check

Absurd amounts of fun playing music: Check

Feeling unreasonably stupid: Check

Feeling unreasonably  smart: Check

Intense writing discussions where I learned more than I taught: Check

Being close to tears realizing that none of these wonderful new people would be back next year: Check

Yep, VP is over and I has a sad.  It was wonderful.  Thank you all.