Category: Uncategorized

SFWA Bulletin Stuff: All I have are questions

If there’s anyone who doesn’t know what this is about, I envy you and will not provide you with any links. You’re happier not knowing. Smile, nod, and skip this post.

1. Some say that in their column in issue #201, Resnick and Malzberg concentrated on, or at least spent a lot of the time, discussing the attractiveness of certain women in the field.  Others say there was one brief passing mention of one woman being attractive.  I’d very much like to read that column; does anyone know where it can be found on line?

2. I recently came across the claim that some women who were new to the field were intimidated by older, more established writers who can destroy their careers.  Well, on the one hand, this is obviously nonsense: I’ve never heard of an editor who would accept, “This person pissed me off, don’t buy stories from her,” from any writer no matter how “established.”  But on the other hand, might there be the perception that established writers can destroy a new writer’s career? If so, then the intimidation is real, even if the established writers aren’t aware of it (a scary thought yo).  Anyone know how widespread that perception is?

3. R and M made the claim that “anonymous” people were attempting to “censor” them.  I’ve become convinced the anonymous part is just silly; I’ve yet to see a comment without a name attached. And various of us are debating what “censorship” means in different contexts. But what I haven’t seen is anyone who, before issue number #202, said that their column should be pulled, or that they ought not to have been permitted to say what they did in #201.  It is debatable whether, if that was said, it constitutes censorship; but I’d like to know if it was actually said, and, if so, by how many?

 

The Sidebar of Making Light

And now, a brief musical interlude, with thanks to Scott Lynch, Elizabeth Bear, Graham and Becca Leathers, and Corwin Brust.

 

The Sidebar of Making Light

I’m a big name writer and I drink hard cider
Though I’ll take whatever I get.
I write about magic and I write about swords
For twelve percent of the…well, gross, actually.
I’ll blog about my tales if it’ll bump sales
But the bump that’s still out of sight,
Is the bump, I think, when you get a link
On the sidebar of Making Light.

Chorus:
(Making Light)
Want to see my blog on the sidebar. (Light)
Where all the folks who are clever and snide are. (Light)
Want see my new blog post
On the sidebar of Making Light.

I got a great PA with me all the way
Who advises on publicity work.
I got a whole staff of slick moderators
So I don’t come off like a jerk.
Invitations I could mention to every convention
And they always treat me so polite.
But it would all just stink compared to a link
On the sidebar of Making Light.

Chorus

I gotta lotta little four-eyed middle-aged fans
Who will read everything of mine.
I gotta genuine genius agent
To vet my contracts before I sign.
I’ve got all the blurbs my books will hold
So my ego gets stroked all right.
And I keep blushing pink but I can’t get a link
On the sidebar of Making Light.

Chorus

Reflections on Roger Zelazny

I had a good day pounding away at Hawk, and then learned that my short story, “Playing God” has sold to this anthology.  So, I’m feeling pretty good, and I’m thinking about Roger Zelazny, and I’m reflecting.

Anyone familiar with his work and mine knows that the term “influence” is a drastic understatement.  As I’ve said in other places, I knew I wanted to be a writer when I first read Lord of Light and realized that what I wanted more than anything was to make other people feel the way I felt when reading that book. (It just occurred to me that it was my friend David Dyer-Bennet who first suggested I read that one, and I’ve never said thanks. So, thanks.)

Once I got to sit around a small table in a bar at a World Fantasy Con with him and Neil Gaiman and we talked about writing for hours.  Oh my fucking god.  During that conversation, I asked him how to write a short story.  He got a mildly startled look on his face, and said, “Write the last chapter of a novel.”  I don’t think I’ve ever managed to do that, but it’s been going around in my head and generating little baby ideas ever since.

I love the way he used words–I can stop and reread a sentence of his  just for how the words make me feel.  I love his characters–I am willing to follow them around a book just to see what they’ll do.  I love his sense of structure–his story that feels balanced, that feels right even aside from how it resolves.  I love his touch for the bittersweet ending that leaves one feeling, “well, it was worth the struggle, but it didn’t come without a price.” I love his ability to humanize myth, and to mythologize humanity.

I am a process geek.  That is, I can think and talk about how writing works–and ought to work–for hours.  I love making generalizations about writing, and then testing them.  And I believe the source of that, or at least a huge part of the source, is reading Roger and saying to myself, over and over, “How does he do that?”  The fact that I’ve never gotten a satisfactory answer has done nothing to alleviate my desire to try.  After all, I’ve only been at it thirty-five years or so.  Maybe in another ten I’ll get somewhere.

I’m so glad I knew him.  I’m so glad I can still read his work.  I miss him so much.