Car Designers start with a respect for the past when they envisage the future. That is one reason why the G.M. Heritage Center is important.
If you know where you (or a brand) came from, and you can plot the evolution to the way things look today, you have a much better chance of projecting how things will look in the future.
Today --my today-- was taken up with preparing for, and then interviewing a man I have the honor of calling a friend: Dr Philip Hessburg, head of the Detroit Institute of Opthalmology
http://lsc.audioacrobat.com/download/bb99178b-f535-adcd-c798-346851331b0d.mp3
When you write science fiction, you try to imagine what our world will be like in the future. Reading Scientific American, and Discovery Magazine helps. So does listening to the great and visionary minds of our time, such as those of Dr Larry Burns of General Motors, and Dr Philip Hessburg of the Detroit Institute of Opthalmology.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Part Four. When a story doesn't work
This is where I ran into problems. Swaim wants to use Merritt as a weapon. So he's hooking her up to computers and keeping her in a dream state where she believes that he's her father. It makes it easier for him to control her and use her. Kind of useless place for a heroine. My intention was to replay Dax and Merritt's love story using her subconscious. Even though she's doped up and believes she's Swaim's daughter, subconciously she'll be remembering her life with Dax. So I would tell their story as Merritt remembered it. Meanwhile, Dax is also hooked into the super computer and somehow his subconscious connects with Merritt's, he realizes what's going on, he breaks free then goes back to free her. It turns out that I've over used that tool recently. Seperate H/H and have hero rescue heroine. So yes, it is hard to connect with a heroine who is doped and unconscious. I have to agree there. But they didn't see Merritt the way I did. Which was also my fault. I didn't write enough of the book. Its hard to do a indepth proposal when you've got a dead line looming.
Chapter Three
The Dome
There had to be something beyond the shadows. Or maybe it was just her vision that was blurry. There was always the possibility that she was dreaming. Could that be it? Merritt walked through the room with her fingers trailing over the clean lines of the plain but functional furniture. Everything was done in shades of gray, from the plush carpet that cushioned her feet to the heavy gray drapes that covered the walls. Were there windows behind the drapes? For some reason she could not recall the view. Everything around her was familiar, yet everything she saw was strange.
“There you are my dear,” a man’s voice said.
Merritt turned. A man stood before her. He was tall and slim with blond hair that held a touch of silver at the temples. His eyes shaded more towards gray than blue, but it could easily be that the room they were in made them look that way. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that was on the edge of a new trend in fashion, yet would not be considered ostentatious by his peers. How was it that knew that, or even cared?
“Father?” she asked. The word came unbidden to her lips and for some strange reason she was not sure if it was appropriate.
“Who else would it be?” He came to her and took her upper arms into his hands. He kissed her forehead. “Silly girl,” he said.
She scrunched her forehead up as he kissed it. As if she could ward off the touch of his lips. His eyes bore into her and she turned away from his intense scrutiny.
“Merritt,” he said his voice heavy with concern. “Are you all right?”
A pain shot through her temples and she pressed her hands against them.
“It hurts,” she cried out.
<>
“What’s wrong?” Swain asked.
“She’s fighting it,” Foster replied. “Her mind is sensing the reality shift. Her consciousness senses the dream so she’s trying to wake herself up.” Foster turned from his perusal of the monitor and added. “I told you she was strong. One of the strongest I’ve ever seen.”
Swain let his head drop back against the cushion. He reclined in an ergonomic chair while Foster worked the code for Merritt’s program. His Simkey pulsed while it accepted the code and aligned the program with the matching Simkey that glowed from the admanium port Foster had inserted in Merritt’s temple.
Strong and mine…
She really was quite lovely with her silvery blonde hair and clear blue eyes which were closed. It was a shame really that he could not look at them. They reminded him of the wildflowers that grew outside the dome. They were the dominant feature of her heart shaped face and quite an exquisite color of blue with black flecks around the edge of the irises. It was as if he possessed a valuable piece of art that he had to keep behind lock and key. He well remembered the sparks in those eyes as she attacked him in the real. It would be nice to see the life in them again. That, however, would not be conducive to achieving his goal.
She wore a silver rehab suit that stretched from her toes up to her neck. It would aid in the prevention of sores on her body from being in the same position for so long. It would also stimulate her muscles and enhance her circulation as she stayed suspended in the simlife. It clung to her like a second skin and showed the healthy vitality of her body which would soon fade away with enforced inactivity. Various tubes and wires were attached each one there to serve a purpose in keeping her alive for as long as he needed her.
To Swain, she looked like a princess from one of the ancient fairy tales as she lay reclined in a chair similar to his. Her brow seemed troubled and was drawn sternly down, marring the porcelain like complexion of her skin.
“Sleeping Beauty,” he said as he recalled the ancient fairytale she brought to mind.
“Sir?” Foster inquired.
“I noticed that you cut her hair.” No need to let Foster know where his musings led him. The man was bright enough as it was. Bright enough that he bore watching.
“Yes sir,” Foster did not turn away from his keypad.
No excuse or reason was given. When she arrived her hair hung to her waist. Now it was cropped close to her head and the ends of it curled up around her face.
Why did he care?
“It would have been a nuisance to care for,” Foster added after a moment.
Swain had to agree. Still it was a shame.
“I sold it,” Foster said as he swiveled his chair around to face him. “To the sonaspa.”
Swain resisted the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. The pursuit of eternal youth in their society was not unlike a cult. Someone would pay dearly for those hair enhancements. He wondered if he would recognize the color if he came across it in his social circle.
“I assume you deposited the credits in my account,” Swain said.
“Yes,” Foster said. “We can try again whenever you are ready. I added a head injury to her history which will help explain her confusion and I also gave her a pet for distraction.”
“A pet?”
“A fluffy white kitten,” Foster said with a smile that seemed insincere at best. “A gift from her father.”
Swain nodded his approval as he settled back into his chair and closed his eyes.
<>
“Have I told you how relieved I am?” He said.
Merritt touched her temple once again. “About what?”
“About your recovery of course.” The look he gave her was full of concern. “The Doctor said your periods of memory loss would eventually fade.”
She pushed her fingers against her temple as if there was a switch there that needed to be on. If only she could remember…anything…There was nothing that was familiar. The walls seemed distant yet suffocating. She wanted to see the sky and feel the breeze on her face.
“I was hurt?” she asked. That would explain much. It would explain everything. She looked at her father hopefully. Why couldn’t she remember him?
“Yes,” he said calmly. Patiently. As if she was a small child. “You fell. You hurt your head. You have only recently come home from the Medcen.”
“Is that why it hurts?” she asked as she rubbed her right hand over her forehead. She scrunched up her eyes and then opened them in hopes that things would appear clearer to her. Her left hand caught her attention and she looked at it, spreading the fingers wide as she turned it over to examine it.
“I lost it,” she said. “I lost my ring. Did I leave it at the Medcen?”
“What ring?” he asked.
Merritt held her hand out. “My ring.” She twisted the fingers of her right hand around the base of the ring finger on her left hand.
“What did it look like?”
She continued to rub her finger as she tried to remember. She could see it in her mind. Silver and gold twisted together in a never ending circle. She recalled the weight of it. How it slid down the length of her finger and settled at the base as if it were a part of her flesh. She could almost feel a hand close over hers as if holding it in place. A strong hand with blunt fingers that were heavily calloused at the tips. To whom did it belong? “It was silver…and gold…It was both?” she said in hope that he would offer her some confirmation.
“I’m sure it will turn up,” he said a trifle bit too indulgently. How could something that felt so real and now so lost be a figment of her imagination?
It was apparent that her father thought she was imaging it. She turned away. She could not stand to see the indulgence in his pale eyes. Her eyes darted back and forth looking for the way out. She felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were closing in around her. The only door was behind him. Even with her back turned she knew she would not make it past him.
As if he knew what she was thinking he came up behind her and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. Perhaps he meant to offer comfort. Instead she felt as if he’d captured her and there was no escape.
If he was her father then why couldn’t she remember his name?
“I have a gift for you,” he said. “Something to help you with your recovery. The doctor’s said if you didn’t try to remember so much then it would be easier.”
“They did?” She had a vague recollection of some sort of medical procedure. Of bright lights over head, the sterile smell of recycled air and strange faces hovering over her. She also felt a strange sense of loss, as if with the accident and what followed she lost a part of herself.
It was all so strange yet she could not say what was different. Only that it was.
The man who was her father walked to the plush gray sofa that curved around two sides of the room. He returned with a white box tied with a bright pink bow. It was strange that she had not noticed it earlier when she first walked into the room. Certainly the brightness of the bow would have stood out against all the misty gray that surrounded her.
“Open it,” he said encouragingly as he held it out to her. She had no choice but to take it. She pulled on the ribbon and it fell away as if it were nothing. She opened the box and a black kitten with deep blue eyes poked its head up and stared at her inquisitively.
“Oh,” Merritt exclaimed. She scooped the kitten out and dropped the box to the floor. “He’s adorable.”
Her father seemed confused. He chucked a finger under the kitten’s chin and it turned its head into her neck as if trying to escape from his attention. “You shall have to give it a name,” he said.
Merritt held the kitten up before her face and looked into its deep blue eyes. They were such a strange color for a cat, but somewhere she had heard that kittens were born with blue eyes and then they turned green or gold. Perhaps his just hadn’t changed yet. He let out a tiny meow as she looked at him and she smiled in delight as she clutched him back to her breast.
“I shall name him Dax,” she said.
“Dax?” Her fathered seemed to disapprove. “Isn’t that a strange name for a cat? Where ever did you come up with that name?”
Merritt turned halfway away from him. She felt as if the kitten was in jeopardy. “I don’t know where it came from,” she said as she rubbed the silky fur. “I just know that I like it and it seems to fit him.”
“Are you even sure that it is a him?” he asked.
Merritt held up the kitten once more and looked beneath its tiny round belly. It was hard to say one way or another at this young age but for some reason, she just knew it was a he. “I’m sure,” she said.
“I’m glad you are pleased,” her father said. “Now come, the Doctor’s said you must rest.” He took her arm and guided her to a door. “Go in and lie down. Snuggle up with your kitty,” he added as he opened the door.
Merritt looked around the space, hoping for something that was familiar, but all she saw was the same misty grayness around the walls and a gray cover upon the bed that was the only piece of furniture in the room. She heard the door close firmly behind her and knew without checking that it was locked. It didn’t matter one way or the other however as she found herself suddenly very tired. Her eyes closed the moment she lay down on the bed but before she drifted off to sleep her finger tips grazed the base of her ring finger.
H
er last thought as the darkness overcame her was of her ring. She must find it.
<>
“I thought you told me the kitten was white,” Swain exclaimed as he disconnected his Simkey and slid it into the pocket inside of his coat. He positioned his chair for easy rising and stalked to where Merritt lay in her dream like state. Her hands were clutched together with the fingers of her right hand holding onto the base of her left ring finger and her forehead was drawn down as if she were heavily troubled.
“I programmed it white,” Foster said. “What did you see?”
“A black cat with blue eyes,” Swain said. “She named it Dax.”
“Dax?” Foster asked.
“The man with her,” Swain exclaimed. “His name was Dax. At least that’s what she was screaming if I remember correctly.”
Foster raised his eyebrows. “How interesting,” he said. “Her subconscious is compensating for the absence of familiarity. It also appears that it is rewriting the program to adapt to her longings.”
“Fix it,” Swain said in disgust. “I need her to be fully operational as soon as possible.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Foster said. But instead of turning back to his desk, he studied Merritt intently. “Perhaps we should give her a mother,” he mused aloud.
“No,” Swain said. “The simpler the program, the better it will run. She has to trust me. Only me,” he added as he turned to go. He had a council meeting to attend. “Have it working by the time I return,” he snapped as he left.
He walked through his luxurious apartment that covered the entire top floor of one of the most prominent buildings inside the dome. Above him was a rooftop garden full of plants that at one time grew in the Caribbean islands which were now rumored to be nothing more than desolate peaks. No one knew for certain. No one who ventured out to travel what remained of the world ever returned.
The best part about his garden was that he could stand upon a chair and touch the skin that sheltered them from the outside. It felt fragile, as if it could be sliced with a knife, yet it withstood pounding rain and hail and the freezing rains that pelted it in the winter. When he was younger and full of idealism he imagined he was touching the sky. Now he knew better.
Swain entered the lift that only stopped on his floor and the main floor many stories below. It was open on three sides and from it he could survey the city. He saw the many storied buildings, the green areas, the elevated trains that encircled the dome and the moving sidewalks that created a spider web effect from the center of the city to the edge. Everywhere he looked he saw the vid screens. The screens that gave their society all their information, from the latest news to the latest in the celebrity gossip. Screens that were present on every corner, in every office, in every apartment, in every classroom.
Screens that controlled the populace with suggestions made by the Paranormal Research Instruments of Sublimal Messaging called Prisms by those on the council. There were nearly one hundred of them, all kept in simsleep, all heavily guarded and behind locked doors on a floor of the government building. Each Prism was connected to the main frame and each was given instructions which they, in turn, passed on to the populace. Buy this, eat here, avoid this, all suggested to keep the peace within.
Swain allowed himself the luxury of a smile as he quickly descended to the streets below. Now he had his own Prism. One who was programmed to do his bidding and spread his will.
Soon everything he beheld before him would be his.
“All mine,” he said with a smile.
Chapter Three
The Dome
There had to be something beyond the shadows. Or maybe it was just her vision that was blurry. There was always the possibility that she was dreaming. Could that be it? Merritt walked through the room with her fingers trailing over the clean lines of the plain but functional furniture. Everything was done in shades of gray, from the plush carpet that cushioned her feet to the heavy gray drapes that covered the walls. Were there windows behind the drapes? For some reason she could not recall the view. Everything around her was familiar, yet everything she saw was strange.
“There you are my dear,” a man’s voice said.
Merritt turned. A man stood before her. He was tall and slim with blond hair that held a touch of silver at the temples. His eyes shaded more towards gray than blue, but it could easily be that the room they were in made them look that way. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that was on the edge of a new trend in fashion, yet would not be considered ostentatious by his peers. How was it that knew that, or even cared?
“Father?” she asked. The word came unbidden to her lips and for some strange reason she was not sure if it was appropriate.
“Who else would it be?” He came to her and took her upper arms into his hands. He kissed her forehead. “Silly girl,” he said.
She scrunched her forehead up as he kissed it. As if she could ward off the touch of his lips. His eyes bore into her and she turned away from his intense scrutiny.
“Merritt,” he said his voice heavy with concern. “Are you all right?”
A pain shot through her temples and she pressed her hands against them.
“It hurts,” she cried out.
<>
“What’s wrong?” Swain asked.
“She’s fighting it,” Foster replied. “Her mind is sensing the reality shift. Her consciousness senses the dream so she’s trying to wake herself up.” Foster turned from his perusal of the monitor and added. “I told you she was strong. One of the strongest I’ve ever seen.”
Swain let his head drop back against the cushion. He reclined in an ergonomic chair while Foster worked the code for Merritt’s program. His Simkey pulsed while it accepted the code and aligned the program with the matching Simkey that glowed from the admanium port Foster had inserted in Merritt’s temple.
Strong and mine…
She really was quite lovely with her silvery blonde hair and clear blue eyes which were closed. It was a shame really that he could not look at them. They reminded him of the wildflowers that grew outside the dome. They were the dominant feature of her heart shaped face and quite an exquisite color of blue with black flecks around the edge of the irises. It was as if he possessed a valuable piece of art that he had to keep behind lock and key. He well remembered the sparks in those eyes as she attacked him in the real. It would be nice to see the life in them again. That, however, would not be conducive to achieving his goal.
She wore a silver rehab suit that stretched from her toes up to her neck. It would aid in the prevention of sores on her body from being in the same position for so long. It would also stimulate her muscles and enhance her circulation as she stayed suspended in the simlife. It clung to her like a second skin and showed the healthy vitality of her body which would soon fade away with enforced inactivity. Various tubes and wires were attached each one there to serve a purpose in keeping her alive for as long as he needed her.
To Swain, she looked like a princess from one of the ancient fairy tales as she lay reclined in a chair similar to his. Her brow seemed troubled and was drawn sternly down, marring the porcelain like complexion of her skin.
“Sleeping Beauty,” he said as he recalled the ancient fairytale she brought to mind.
“Sir?” Foster inquired.
“I noticed that you cut her hair.” No need to let Foster know where his musings led him. The man was bright enough as it was. Bright enough that he bore watching.
“Yes sir,” Foster did not turn away from his keypad.
No excuse or reason was given. When she arrived her hair hung to her waist. Now it was cropped close to her head and the ends of it curled up around her face.
Why did he care?
“It would have been a nuisance to care for,” Foster added after a moment.
Swain had to agree. Still it was a shame.
“I sold it,” Foster said as he swiveled his chair around to face him. “To the sonaspa.”
Swain resisted the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. The pursuit of eternal youth in their society was not unlike a cult. Someone would pay dearly for those hair enhancements. He wondered if he would recognize the color if he came across it in his social circle.
“I assume you deposited the credits in my account,” Swain said.
“Yes,” Foster said. “We can try again whenever you are ready. I added a head injury to her history which will help explain her confusion and I also gave her a pet for distraction.”
“A pet?”
“A fluffy white kitten,” Foster said with a smile that seemed insincere at best. “A gift from her father.”
Swain nodded his approval as he settled back into his chair and closed his eyes.
<>
“Have I told you how relieved I am?” He said.
Merritt touched her temple once again. “About what?”
“About your recovery of course.” The look he gave her was full of concern. “The Doctor said your periods of memory loss would eventually fade.”
She pushed her fingers against her temple as if there was a switch there that needed to be on. If only she could remember…anything…There was nothing that was familiar. The walls seemed distant yet suffocating. She wanted to see the sky and feel the breeze on her face.
“I was hurt?” she asked. That would explain much. It would explain everything. She looked at her father hopefully. Why couldn’t she remember him?
“Yes,” he said calmly. Patiently. As if she was a small child. “You fell. You hurt your head. You have only recently come home from the Medcen.”
“Is that why it hurts?” she asked as she rubbed her right hand over her forehead. She scrunched up her eyes and then opened them in hopes that things would appear clearer to her. Her left hand caught her attention and she looked at it, spreading the fingers wide as she turned it over to examine it.
“I lost it,” she said. “I lost my ring. Did I leave it at the Medcen?”
“What ring?” he asked.
Merritt held her hand out. “My ring.” She twisted the fingers of her right hand around the base of the ring finger on her left hand.
“What did it look like?”
She continued to rub her finger as she tried to remember. She could see it in her mind. Silver and gold twisted together in a never ending circle. She recalled the weight of it. How it slid down the length of her finger and settled at the base as if it were a part of her flesh. She could almost feel a hand close over hers as if holding it in place. A strong hand with blunt fingers that were heavily calloused at the tips. To whom did it belong? “It was silver…and gold…It was both?” she said in hope that he would offer her some confirmation.
“I’m sure it will turn up,” he said a trifle bit too indulgently. How could something that felt so real and now so lost be a figment of her imagination?
It was apparent that her father thought she was imaging it. She turned away. She could not stand to see the indulgence in his pale eyes. Her eyes darted back and forth looking for the way out. She felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were closing in around her. The only door was behind him. Even with her back turned she knew she would not make it past him.
As if he knew what she was thinking he came up behind her and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. Perhaps he meant to offer comfort. Instead she felt as if he’d captured her and there was no escape.
If he was her father then why couldn’t she remember his name?
“I have a gift for you,” he said. “Something to help you with your recovery. The doctor’s said if you didn’t try to remember so much then it would be easier.”
“They did?” She had a vague recollection of some sort of medical procedure. Of bright lights over head, the sterile smell of recycled air and strange faces hovering over her. She also felt a strange sense of loss, as if with the accident and what followed she lost a part of herself.
It was all so strange yet she could not say what was different. Only that it was.
The man who was her father walked to the plush gray sofa that curved around two sides of the room. He returned with a white box tied with a bright pink bow. It was strange that she had not noticed it earlier when she first walked into the room. Certainly the brightness of the bow would have stood out against all the misty gray that surrounded her.
“Open it,” he said encouragingly as he held it out to her. She had no choice but to take it. She pulled on the ribbon and it fell away as if it were nothing. She opened the box and a black kitten with deep blue eyes poked its head up and stared at her inquisitively.
“Oh,” Merritt exclaimed. She scooped the kitten out and dropped the box to the floor. “He’s adorable.”
Her father seemed confused. He chucked a finger under the kitten’s chin and it turned its head into her neck as if trying to escape from his attention. “You shall have to give it a name,” he said.
Merritt held the kitten up before her face and looked into its deep blue eyes. They were such a strange color for a cat, but somewhere she had heard that kittens were born with blue eyes and then they turned green or gold. Perhaps his just hadn’t changed yet. He let out a tiny meow as she looked at him and she smiled in delight as she clutched him back to her breast.
“I shall name him Dax,” she said.
“Dax?” Her fathered seemed to disapprove. “Isn’t that a strange name for a cat? Where ever did you come up with that name?”
Merritt turned halfway away from him. She felt as if the kitten was in jeopardy. “I don’t know where it came from,” she said as she rubbed the silky fur. “I just know that I like it and it seems to fit him.”
“Are you even sure that it is a him?” he asked.
Merritt held up the kitten once more and looked beneath its tiny round belly. It was hard to say one way or another at this young age but for some reason, she just knew it was a he. “I’m sure,” she said.
“I’m glad you are pleased,” her father said. “Now come, the Doctor’s said you must rest.” He took her arm and guided her to a door. “Go in and lie down. Snuggle up with your kitty,” he added as he opened the door.
Merritt looked around the space, hoping for something that was familiar, but all she saw was the same misty grayness around the walls and a gray cover upon the bed that was the only piece of furniture in the room. She heard the door close firmly behind her and knew without checking that it was locked. It didn’t matter one way or the other however as she found herself suddenly very tired. Her eyes closed the moment she lay down on the bed but before she drifted off to sleep her finger tips grazed the base of her ring finger.
H
er last thought as the darkness overcame her was of her ring. She must find it.
<>
“I thought you told me the kitten was white,” Swain exclaimed as he disconnected his Simkey and slid it into the pocket inside of his coat. He positioned his chair for easy rising and stalked to where Merritt lay in her dream like state. Her hands were clutched together with the fingers of her right hand holding onto the base of her left ring finger and her forehead was drawn down as if she were heavily troubled.
“I programmed it white,” Foster said. “What did you see?”
“A black cat with blue eyes,” Swain said. “She named it Dax.”
“Dax?” Foster asked.
“The man with her,” Swain exclaimed. “His name was Dax. At least that’s what she was screaming if I remember correctly.”
Foster raised his eyebrows. “How interesting,” he said. “Her subconscious is compensating for the absence of familiarity. It also appears that it is rewriting the program to adapt to her longings.”
“Fix it,” Swain said in disgust. “I need her to be fully operational as soon as possible.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Foster said. But instead of turning back to his desk, he studied Merritt intently. “Perhaps we should give her a mother,” he mused aloud.
“No,” Swain said. “The simpler the program, the better it will run. She has to trust me. Only me,” he added as he turned to go. He had a council meeting to attend. “Have it working by the time I return,” he snapped as he left.
He walked through his luxurious apartment that covered the entire top floor of one of the most prominent buildings inside the dome. Above him was a rooftop garden full of plants that at one time grew in the Caribbean islands which were now rumored to be nothing more than desolate peaks. No one knew for certain. No one who ventured out to travel what remained of the world ever returned.
The best part about his garden was that he could stand upon a chair and touch the skin that sheltered them from the outside. It felt fragile, as if it could be sliced with a knife, yet it withstood pounding rain and hail and the freezing rains that pelted it in the winter. When he was younger and full of idealism he imagined he was touching the sky. Now he knew better.
Swain entered the lift that only stopped on his floor and the main floor many stories below. It was open on three sides and from it he could survey the city. He saw the many storied buildings, the green areas, the elevated trains that encircled the dome and the moving sidewalks that created a spider web effect from the center of the city to the edge. Everywhere he looked he saw the vid screens. The screens that gave their society all their information, from the latest news to the latest in the celebrity gossip. Screens that were present on every corner, in every office, in every apartment, in every classroom.
Screens that controlled the populace with suggestions made by the Paranormal Research Instruments of Sublimal Messaging called Prisms by those on the council. There were nearly one hundred of them, all kept in simsleep, all heavily guarded and behind locked doors on a floor of the government building. Each Prism was connected to the main frame and each was given instructions which they, in turn, passed on to the populace. Buy this, eat here, avoid this, all suggested to keep the peace within.
Swain allowed himself the luxury of a smile as he quickly descended to the streets below. Now he had his own Prism. One who was programmed to do his bidding and spread his will.
Soon everything he beheld before him would be his.
“All mine,” he said with a smile.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Guest Blogger Rachel Caine
Rachel Caine ( http://www.rachelcaine.com ) is a New York Times bestselling author of action/adventure fantasy with a good dose of Relationship, Love and Romance in the plot. She joins us this week responding to questions asked by Jacqueline Lichtenberg and Rowena Cherry on the occasion of the publication of the 6th novel in her Morganville Vampires series, Carpe Corpus.
We told Rachel the following:
The aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com blog is by a group of PNR and SFR writers who often talk to the "audience" as we would if we were on a panel at a convention, bouncing a topic around and around from our various viewpoints. It's not a blog about promoting our books, but about nurturing new writers who want to enter the field, and giving our general readers a glimpse of everything that goes on behind the scenes. Thus, from time to time, we post excerpts, chapters, out-takes, and character analyses of current novels, but mostly we talk about the past, present and future of the entire field, including TV and film.
So please answer these questions (or make up questions of your own) as if you were sitting on a stage with all of us around you talking to an audience that came to find out all about what we write and why we write it. Feel free to skip any of these questions, or amalgamate them into a little essay of your own. Readers of this blog love Vampires, Werewolves, Star Trek, and Buffy all equally.
Then we asked these 10 questions. Here are Rachel's responses. I think you're going to want to check out her novels, so I've added some links to Amazon where you can read what other fans have said about her books.
ROWENA: 1. Which was the first Vampire story that you remember seeing or reading? Why do you think it made a powerful impression on you?
I believe it was probably Dracula, which I might have stumbled on in the Bookmobile (I lived far out in the country, and the only reliable access I had to books for my early teen years was the mobile library, which was very limited). I was intrigued, but not overwhelmed. The second book, which probably made a HUGE impression on me, was an illicit copy of of Stephen King's 'SALEMS LOT, which was a pretty shocking take on vampires at the age of ... 13? I believe? But I *loved* it. Then I began to look for vampire books, and my first encounter with a vampire who wasn't a terrifying monster was Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's wonderful St. Germain books. (I am also extremely flattered to be interviewed by you, because I eagerly followed your Sime/Gen books, Jacqueline! Hello! /Fangirl.)
ROWENA: 2. When you are writing a Vampire hero or heroine, what are the top five points you consider vital to characterization.
I'll give it a try! 1) Mystery. Especially in a vampire, I like to have some bit of mystery about their background, their true motivations. 2) Motivation (speaking of). I like to know, very clearly, what it is the vampire really wants -- whether it's redemption, dinner, romance, or just to get through the next day/night. All greatly affect how the character will respond to situations. 3) Friends/allies/enemies. I need to know how my vampire fits in with the other characters ... who he's crossed before, who he secretly loves or loathes, etc. 4) Redeeming qualities. These are, for me, quite important in a vampire character. You're working, after all, with the initial premise that this is a creature who survives on the blood of others, so what about him or her is admirable? How does the reader connect with/root for the vampire? There has to be some common ground. 5) Reliable mythology. Whether it's unique to your own universe or drawn directly from the folklore, it should be consistent or your vampire won't be believable.
Whew. That was harder than I thought!
ROWENA: 3. What is the Vampire lifestyle?
In Morganville, it's complicated. There are social levels, certainly -- the elites, who pretty much control the town and live in luxury (think Mafia dons). The working-class vampires, who are more like Mafia soldiers. And then there are outcasts and rebels, even among the vampires, who may or may not play by the rules, but probably are just as unhappy with the status quo as the various human factions in town.
Added to that, there's the undeniable fact that Morganville itself is a closed society ... the vampires may run the town like the Mafia, collecting blood and services from the human residents, but it's also a kind of protective enclave. An animal preserve, for a dying race. To me, that's what makes my vampires interesting; they're dangerous and unpredictable, but they're also the last of their kind.
ROWENA: 4. What are the rules for your Vampire world-building, and how did you formulate them?
I decided I wouldn't do this project unless I could make it interesting for myself, and different from the type of vampire stories that were already making new headway with teen readers, so I focused on the town itself -- how it worked, who ran it, and how it affected my human inhabitants (including poor Claire, who gets dropped into it). I needed to understand the fundamental secrets of the town before I could decide how it was constructed. It seemed logical to me to find Morganville in a bit of a decline -- fewer and fewer people living there, buildings decaying, unrest among the vampires. I believe I really did, in a literal sense, build the town from the ground up, because some of what happens in the books happens underground, where some of the true secret lay.
ROWENA: 5. What advice would you give to a writer who has not yet completed her first draft of the vampire story in her head?
There's no substitute for sitting down and writing. You can write in your head forever, but it's putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, that creates something real. But there's also a learning curve in this, as in anything that's really worth doing ... you're going to find yourself struggling sometimes to get your ideas on the page, or to make them different, or better. Keep going. It's a process, and if we're very lucky, the process never stops.
JACQUELINE: 6. What do you think your readers are looking for in a relationship between a paranormal such as a Vampire and an ordinary human?
My situation is a little bit unique, because although I do have vampires and humans interacting constantly, the only real vampire/human romantic relationship I have is between Eve and Michael, who became a vampire quite recently. I know that, based on the conversations and feedback from my readers, they really want Eve and Michael to work out ... and that's going to be interesting to me, because Michael's just really starting to discover who he is, and what it is he can do. So I think there's going to be a lot of bumps for that relationship along the way.
In terms of ordinary friendships, I think my readers are enjoying the growing ties between Claire and her somewhat-crazy vampire mentor Myrnin; she's becoming a bit of a caretaker for him, and he's in turn teaching her a lot about Morganville and the unique brand of science he's developed to run it.
JACQUELINE: 7. How do your novels manage to provide the Happily Ever After endings that both Romance and Action readers crave? (we have discussed the Happily Ever After requirement at length on this blog).
I think that as long as the main core relationship of the book -- Claire and Shane -- stays strong and deepens, readers will support all the other twists and turns. And I am determined to have happy endings for all of the Glass House residents, which helps. (Can't guarantee anything beyond that, though ...)
JACQUELINE: 8. How much real romance do you put into your novels? Or do you ever put just a love story into the plot? Or is the relationship always a sub-plot to the action?
I'd have to say that I categorize my stories as action/adventure first, romance second, so it's very much a sub-plot. BUT ... it's also central to why Claire is in Morganville, and why the readers care what happens, so it's extremely important as well. In my Weather Warden novels,
I believe the romantic relationship between Joanne and David is actually the "A" plot, and everything else comes second, no matter how world-destroying. In Morganville, I think it's slightly more of an even balance.
(Carpe Corpus is Rachel's 6th book in the Morganville series)
JACQUELINE: 9. How would you characterize your novels -- are they dark like the TV show SUPERNATURAL? Or mixed like FOREVER KNIGHT or BUFFY? Is there any message of optimism for humankind in your work?
I would say mixed, more like BUFFY than FK (although I love all of those, and SUPERNATURAL too). Dark things definitely happen, but one of the keys to my enjoyment of writing the books is how resilient the characters are, and how funny they can be, even in the darkest of times. (Huge Geek TV fan, here. HUGE. I own one of those "Joss Whedon is my master now" T-shirts.)
JACQUELINE: 10. Give new writers a tip on how to follow in your footsteps.
First of all, don't follow my footsteps, they lead down all kinds of blind alleys, into swamps, sand traps, snake pits ... I've made just about every mistake that can be made. And I'm a bit glad, actually. I've really enjoyed my career, even in the worst times ... but then again, I never quit my day job (for long, anyway). I'd say this: practice, practice, practice. Learn patience and humility, and learn the BUSINESS, which is a strange and wonderful thing.
Many writers think their job ends with turning in a manuscript; I believe that there's a lot before, during, and after that we really should be involved in, including marketing. Learn a variety of skills -- I trained in graphic design, video editing, and public relations, which is all extremely helpful in promotion work for the books.
But most of all: write what you love, not what others tell you is hot. Sooner or later, if you're doing your best work, you will catch a wave. How well you ride it is always the question, but be ready for the opportunity when it comes. Be professional -- treat people well, and respect what they do at every level.
And pay it forward. Mentor others when you can. I was the incredibly lucky recipient of mentoring from a huge variety of great authors, including P.N. Elrod, Patricia Anthony, Nina Romberg/Jane Archer, Joe Lansdale, and so many others. Some of them just offered me handy advice at a time when I needed it. Some shared agents. Some critiqued my work. Some introduced me to editors who later bought my work. There are many, many ways that you can help people, and the simplest thing can sometimes be the most helpful.
Thank you so much for letting me participate today! I truly appreciate it, and once again: I AM A HUGE FANGIRL, LADIES.
Thank you
Rachel Caine
http://www.rachelcaine.com
We told Rachel the following:
The aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com blog is by a group of PNR and SFR writers who often talk to the "audience" as we would if we were on a panel at a convention, bouncing a topic around and around from our various viewpoints. It's not a blog about promoting our books, but about nurturing new writers who want to enter the field, and giving our general readers a glimpse of everything that goes on behind the scenes. Thus, from time to time, we post excerpts, chapters, out-takes, and character analyses of current novels, but mostly we talk about the past, present and future of the entire field, including TV and film.
So please answer these questions (or make up questions of your own) as if you were sitting on a stage with all of us around you talking to an audience that came to find out all about what we write and why we write it. Feel free to skip any of these questions, or amalgamate them into a little essay of your own. Readers of this blog love Vampires, Werewolves, Star Trek, and Buffy all equally.
Then we asked these 10 questions. Here are Rachel's responses. I think you're going to want to check out her novels, so I've added some links to Amazon where you can read what other fans have said about her books.
ROWENA: 1. Which was the first Vampire story that you remember seeing or reading? Why do you think it made a powerful impression on you?
I believe it was probably Dracula, which I might have stumbled on in the Bookmobile (I lived far out in the country, and the only reliable access I had to books for my early teen years was the mobile library, which was very limited). I was intrigued, but not overwhelmed. The second book, which probably made a HUGE impression on me, was an illicit copy of of Stephen King's 'SALEMS LOT, which was a pretty shocking take on vampires at the age of ... 13? I believe? But I *loved* it. Then I began to look for vampire books, and my first encounter with a vampire who wasn't a terrifying monster was Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's wonderful St. Germain books. (I am also extremely flattered to be interviewed by you, because I eagerly followed your Sime/Gen books, Jacqueline! Hello! /Fangirl.)
ROWENA: 2. When you are writing a Vampire hero or heroine, what are the top five points you consider vital to characterization.
I'll give it a try! 1) Mystery. Especially in a vampire, I like to have some bit of mystery about their background, their true motivations. 2) Motivation (speaking of). I like to know, very clearly, what it is the vampire really wants -- whether it's redemption, dinner, romance, or just to get through the next day/night. All greatly affect how the character will respond to situations. 3) Friends/allies/enemies. I need to know how my vampire fits in with the other characters ... who he's crossed before, who he secretly loves or loathes, etc. 4) Redeeming qualities. These are, for me, quite important in a vampire character. You're working, after all, with the initial premise that this is a creature who survives on the blood of others, so what about him or her is admirable? How does the reader connect with/root for the vampire? There has to be some common ground. 5) Reliable mythology. Whether it's unique to your own universe or drawn directly from the folklore, it should be consistent or your vampire won't be believable.
Whew. That was harder than I thought!
ROWENA: 3. What is the Vampire lifestyle?
In Morganville, it's complicated. There are social levels, certainly -- the elites, who pretty much control the town and live in luxury (think Mafia dons). The working-class vampires, who are more like Mafia soldiers. And then there are outcasts and rebels, even among the vampires, who may or may not play by the rules, but probably are just as unhappy with the status quo as the various human factions in town.
Added to that, there's the undeniable fact that Morganville itself is a closed society ... the vampires may run the town like the Mafia, collecting blood and services from the human residents, but it's also a kind of protective enclave. An animal preserve, for a dying race. To me, that's what makes my vampires interesting; they're dangerous and unpredictable, but they're also the last of their kind.
ROWENA: 4. What are the rules for your Vampire world-building, and how did you formulate them?
I decided I wouldn't do this project unless I could make it interesting for myself, and different from the type of vampire stories that were already making new headway with teen readers, so I focused on the town itself -- how it worked, who ran it, and how it affected my human inhabitants (including poor Claire, who gets dropped into it). I needed to understand the fundamental secrets of the town before I could decide how it was constructed. It seemed logical to me to find Morganville in a bit of a decline -- fewer and fewer people living there, buildings decaying, unrest among the vampires. I believe I really did, in a literal sense, build the town from the ground up, because some of what happens in the books happens underground, where some of the true secret lay.
ROWENA: 5. What advice would you give to a writer who has not yet completed her first draft of the vampire story in her head?
There's no substitute for sitting down and writing. You can write in your head forever, but it's putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, that creates something real. But there's also a learning curve in this, as in anything that's really worth doing ... you're going to find yourself struggling sometimes to get your ideas on the page, or to make them different, or better. Keep going. It's a process, and if we're very lucky, the process never stops.
JACQUELINE: 6. What do you think your readers are looking for in a relationship between a paranormal such as a Vampire and an ordinary human?
My situation is a little bit unique, because although I do have vampires and humans interacting constantly, the only real vampire/human romantic relationship I have is between Eve and Michael, who became a vampire quite recently. I know that, based on the conversations and feedback from my readers, they really want Eve and Michael to work out ... and that's going to be interesting to me, because Michael's just really starting to discover who he is, and what it is he can do. So I think there's going to be a lot of bumps for that relationship along the way.
In terms of ordinary friendships, I think my readers are enjoying the growing ties between Claire and her somewhat-crazy vampire mentor Myrnin; she's becoming a bit of a caretaker for him, and he's in turn teaching her a lot about Morganville and the unique brand of science he's developed to run it.
JACQUELINE: 7. How do your novels manage to provide the Happily Ever After endings that both Romance and Action readers crave? (we have discussed the Happily Ever After requirement at length on this blog).
I think that as long as the main core relationship of the book -- Claire and Shane -- stays strong and deepens, readers will support all the other twists and turns. And I am determined to have happy endings for all of the Glass House residents, which helps. (Can't guarantee anything beyond that, though ...)
JACQUELINE: 8. How much real romance do you put into your novels? Or do you ever put just a love story into the plot? Or is the relationship always a sub-plot to the action?
I'd have to say that I categorize my stories as action/adventure first, romance second, so it's very much a sub-plot. BUT ... it's also central to why Claire is in Morganville, and why the readers care what happens, so it's extremely important as well. In my Weather Warden novels,
I believe the romantic relationship between Joanne and David is actually the "A" plot, and everything else comes second, no matter how world-destroying. In Morganville, I think it's slightly more of an even balance.
(Carpe Corpus is Rachel's 6th book in the Morganville series)
JACQUELINE: 9. How would you characterize your novels -- are they dark like the TV show SUPERNATURAL? Or mixed like FOREVER KNIGHT or BUFFY? Is there any message of optimism for humankind in your work?
I would say mixed, more like BUFFY than FK (although I love all of those, and SUPERNATURAL too). Dark things definitely happen, but one of the keys to my enjoyment of writing the books is how resilient the characters are, and how funny they can be, even in the darkest of times. (Huge Geek TV fan, here. HUGE. I own one of those "Joss Whedon is my master now" T-shirts.)
JACQUELINE: 10. Give new writers a tip on how to follow in your footsteps.
First of all, don't follow my footsteps, they lead down all kinds of blind alleys, into swamps, sand traps, snake pits ... I've made just about every mistake that can be made. And I'm a bit glad, actually. I've really enjoyed my career, even in the worst times ... but then again, I never quit my day job (for long, anyway). I'd say this: practice, practice, practice. Learn patience and humility, and learn the BUSINESS, which is a strange and wonderful thing.
Many writers think their job ends with turning in a manuscript; I believe that there's a lot before, during, and after that we really should be involved in, including marketing. Learn a variety of skills -- I trained in graphic design, video editing, and public relations, which is all extremely helpful in promotion work for the books.
But most of all: write what you love, not what others tell you is hot. Sooner or later, if you're doing your best work, you will catch a wave. How well you ride it is always the question, but be ready for the opportunity when it comes. Be professional -- treat people well, and respect what they do at every level.
And pay it forward. Mentor others when you can. I was the incredibly lucky recipient of mentoring from a huge variety of great authors, including P.N. Elrod, Patricia Anthony, Nina Romberg/Jane Archer, Joe Lansdale, and so many others. Some of them just offered me handy advice at a time when I needed it. Some shared agents. Some critiqued my work. Some introduced me to editors who later bought my work. There are many, many ways that you can help people, and the simplest thing can sometimes be the most helpful.
Thank you so much for letting me participate today! I truly appreciate it, and once again: I AM A HUGE FANGIRL, LADIES.
Thank you
Rachel Caine
http://www.rachelcaine.com
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Brains and Beauty
Has anybody here heard the country song "Carlene" by Phil Vassar? If not, click on the link and peruse the lyrics. Wouldn't you think by now the weary stereotype of smart girls being plain and dull would have faded away? The song's narrator was the quarterback, therefore one of the popular kids, although not much of a student in high school (another stereotype, the dumb jock, but that point isn't mentioned after the first line). He remembers Carlene, the valedictorian, only as "little miss four-point-oh" and the "whiz kid in horned rim glasses." He doesn't recognize her at first sight, as a gorgeous redhead in a sports car, until she takes the initiative to speak to him. Now, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with her using her intelligence and money to get herself a makeover into society's image of beauty. What exasperates me is that the narrator says she "surpassed everybody's expectations" because she's now a model on the cover of VOGUE. In other words, they expected her to excel academically (which she did, by earning a Ph.D.), so that's no big deal. Her great success consists of capitalizing on her physical appeal. Carlene the valedictorian isn't vindicated but simply replaced by Carlene the supermodel. The former quarterback, by the way, has succeeded by means of talent rather than physical attributes; he’s a singer on “country radio.”
When I tried to explain to my husband why this song bothers me, he didn't get it. He pointed out, quite rightly, that if her Ph.D. were in English lit and she had a career in teaching rather than modeling, she'd be driving a VW bug instead of a blue sports car. But couldn't she have a degree in a more lucrative field? Why couldn't the former quarterback be impressed that she's used her doctorate (for example) to become the multimillionaire CEO of a cutting-edge research and development company?
I don't have a personal axe to grind here. In addition to being "miss four-point-oh" in high school, although I was socially awkward, I was also pretty, and I had sufficient dates even though I wasn't part of the inner ring of popularity. (I didn't know I was pretty, of course; at five feet four and 113 pounds, thanks to the distorted body image taught to girls by American culture, I thought I was fat. But that's a whole nother topic.) Nevertheless, this song's wholesale endorsement of the cliche infuriates me.
I have a fantasy of an alien culture in which all young women from puberty until their wedding day wear the burqa, not as an instrument of oppression but as a feminist statement. Young men, unable to see any part of a girl's body except eyes and glimpses of hands (sure, those parts can be artificially adorned, but the scope for variation is much narrower than with face, hair, and figure), would have to pick their mates on the basis of such factors as intelligence, conversational wit, practical skills, and compassion. Etiquette would allow married women and unmarried mature ones—past the age of thirty, perhaps—to be free of the cover-up garments as a symbol of their freedom from having to worry about their appearance overshadowing their character (presumably because they'll be dealing with mature men, who should have developed better sense by then). Yep, fantasy.
Margaret L. Carter
Carter's Crypt
When I tried to explain to my husband why this song bothers me, he didn't get it. He pointed out, quite rightly, that if her Ph.D. were in English lit and she had a career in teaching rather than modeling, she'd be driving a VW bug instead of a blue sports car. But couldn't she have a degree in a more lucrative field? Why couldn't the former quarterback be impressed that she's used her doctorate (for example) to become the multimillionaire CEO of a cutting-edge research and development company?
I don't have a personal axe to grind here. In addition to being "miss four-point-oh" in high school, although I was socially awkward, I was also pretty, and I had sufficient dates even though I wasn't part of the inner ring of popularity. (I didn't know I was pretty, of course; at five feet four and 113 pounds, thanks to the distorted body image taught to girls by American culture, I thought I was fat. But that's a whole nother topic.) Nevertheless, this song's wholesale endorsement of the cliche infuriates me.
I have a fantasy of an alien culture in which all young women from puberty until their wedding day wear the burqa, not as an instrument of oppression but as a feminist statement. Young men, unable to see any part of a girl's body except eyes and glimpses of hands (sure, those parts can be artificially adorned, but the scope for variation is much narrower than with face, hair, and figure), would have to pick their mates on the basis of such factors as intelligence, conversational wit, practical skills, and compassion. Etiquette would allow married women and unmarried mature ones—past the age of thirty, perhaps—to be free of the cover-up garments as a symbol of their freedom from having to worry about their appearance overshadowing their character (presumably because they'll be dealing with mature men, who should have developed better sense by then). Yep, fantasy.
Margaret L. Carter
Carter's Crypt
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Bits and Pieces of Catchup
I think one of my greatest ambitions is to write SHORT blog posts.
Didn't make it today. I did try. Really, I did!
I'm way behind on getting packed for Westercon which will be held in Tempe, AZ, right up the road from me over the July 4th weekend. I've just filled out the speaker questionnaire but don't have my schedule yet. Anyone reading this blog who's planning on Westercon? I didn't see any Alien Romance panels, but signed up for everything that might lead into such a discussion. Come help me open (warp?) some minds.
http://www.westercon.org/
I hope you have had time to read my previous post and all the stuff linked to it. Could take you a week to wade through all that.
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/06/crumbling-business-model-of-writers.html
Waiting for everyone to catch up, here's some bits and pieces of followup on other open topics woven into a writing challenge.
I know there's a novelization of the Trek movie, and I haven't read it yet. (yet being the operative word -- I sooo want the DVD and book; I'll pass on the action figures.)
There's a wild and thriving ongoing set of posts on twitter about people seeing the new ST movie 4 and 5 times and more. Some posts saying "what's so great about ST?" and others in goshwow shock. Other long time fans of Trek are still seeing it FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Twitter is carrying some criticism of the actors, some snearing at the entire concept.
I saw one review that really lowered my opinion of both the reviewer and the publication, calling the ST movie melodramatic.
It isn't.
But I can see how someone assigned to review a movie set in a universe they think of as kiddie stuff or teen-action-stuff (SF has borne that perjorative all along) would find this script "melodramatic." That's a point of view that always happens when someone is not engaged in the fictional universe. If you're wholly engaged, the emotional tension does not seem overblown or out of proportion to the issue. But that works only if you really understand the issue.
If everyone is running for the exit in screaming panic, and you're just standing there, you should ask yourself, "What do they know that I don't know?"
Reviewers who slap the label "melodramatic" on a piece of fiction generally haven't asked themselves that question about the audience that does not see the story as melodramatic. In fact, the rest of the audience may be seeing the story as understated while "sophisticated" reviewers trash it as melodramatic. This is in general, not just about this particular Star Trek movie.
It's not the writer's fault usually. "Melodrama" is not a property of the text or script. It exists only in the reader/viewer's mind. (You won't likely find anyone else who holds such an opinion).
There is one flaw a writer might introduce that could give some viewers the impression of melodrama, and that's failing to display in show-don't-tell the character motivations, sensitivities, hot-button issues, loyalties, friendships, and relationships, all clearly derived from the theme.
The JJ Abram's Star Trek movie is written to give you as much of these character and situation traits as possible in the time alotted (and fit in all the commercially requisite action). Anyone have an opinion on what the envelope theme of this film is? Perhaps it's "The Challenges Temper The Character Strengths?" I.e. what character strengths are there already get made stronger by challenges.
When a reviewer sees a movie as "melodramatic" it may not be the reviewer's fault for being unobservant, disinterested, or prejudiced. It might be the "fault" of the review publication for assigning the wrong person to do the review. If someone has a strong emotional reaction to a piece of fiction, a reaction which embarrasses them deep inside, they might slap a distancing label on the fiction -- as if the fiction is at fault for their own refusal to confront their own emotions. You can't tell if that's the case just be reading a review of a film you have seen.
Or the negative reaction might possibly be the fault of the professional reviewer for choosing to review a product because it's popular so that the review will get read rather than reviewing something else that's less popular.
When I read that accusation of "melodrama" against Star Trek (in the context of "it's not a good enough movie for this much hype and people who are enchanted with it have something wrong with them") it brought up questions about how people interact with fiction, fictional universes, and with their own expectations and anticipations.
There's a lot of hype for the Trek movie, and as usual fans are divided into various camps regarding how well or poorly this or that favorite aspect was handled. In general, and overall, there's a consensus of approval and wait-and-see from the old fans, and some astonished interest from new or younger people. To them, it's just a good action movie without a lot of subtext. To veteran fans, it's ALL subtext.
So public discussion makes non-fans (or even non-viewers of Star Trek) curious, and they go see the movie, and express their reactions in public (on twitter maybe).
That's how you sell a lot of movie tickets, you see. Word of mouth (or tweets) motivates people better than any amount of paid commercial time on TV.
All these thoughts are related to some very abstract thinking I've been doing lately, about how fiction strikes a person at different stages of maturity. (I've been reading a number of children's books for my review column.)
And there are subjects flickering in the back of my mind about how the USA used to have so much of a common language and experience, and how that's all been destroyed.
The base cohesiveness of our society has been shattered. That lack of imagery and trivia in common is taking a huge toll, and most people don't realize why these horrific things are happening. New stuff will arise to take its place, because humans need stuff in common with each other, but meanwhile we've got a generation without a cultural connection to anyone other than those with interests in common. The wireless web is changing THAT, too, but it hasn't taken hold yet.
Not everyone paid attention to the Presidential Election! Those that did formed cliques, as usual in politics. But we can't even say "everyone" heard Obama's speeches other than snippets on news shows. You can read his words on the web, but it's not the same as watching his delivery.
Recently, I met someone who had worshipful, shining, beatific eyes every time she mentioned (often) how much she TRUSTS Obama to do the "right thing." She was absolutely pro-Israel, and seemed totally unaware of Hillary Clinton's declaration that none of the USA's verbal agreements with Israel will be kept, period.
I was thinking, as I watched her speaking to other pro-Israel and not-so-pro-Israel people, that if I put her conversation into a story as dialogue, the editor would X it all out because it's implausible the way she ignored everything everyone else said and insisted on how much she TRUSTS Obama, and that trust solves all problems. (talk about melodrama -- her conversation dripped melodrama -- I could hardly believe I was watching a real person not a character).
Other people listened to her politely, but didn't CHALLENGE her thinking (remember the idea the Star Trek movie is about character tempered by challenge). People just expressed their own opinions, without pointing out the fallacies in hers -- they could see she would explode emotionally if challenged, and that would be disruptive to the group. So she left without having her certainties questioned, as one would expect in DIALOGUE. Her "story" and "plot" did not progress because of this group conversation.
Which of course leads into a point I've made on this blog before, that:
A) DIALOGUE is not CONVERSATION.
B) CHARACTERS are not PEOPLE
Somone who prefers to read non-fiction, but has to watch the Star Trek movie ( because maybe their wife dragged them?) might take the film's dialogue as "melodramatic" because it tries, in a very short time, to lay out for you a set of comprehensible motives.
Also consider this is a feature film. The series was designed to be an ensemble show, and each of the characters got a 50 minute (back when there were fewer commercial minutes per hour - maybe 49 minutes) show in which to be introduced. But JJ Abrams was starting from scratch to introduce these (NEW) characters to a new audience, all in one movie.
The script actually does that introduction fairly well within the time alotted. The characters of course come off shallow if all you know is what you see in this new movie, shallow and perhaps overly impressed with themselves.
One of the requirements for good feature film script writing is that there is ONE star character, and maybe a co-star, and all the rest are SUPPORTING characters. Kirk is of course nominally assigned the "starring role" -- but the truth from the POV of many viewers is that Spock is the star. (yep, I'm one of those). Because this show was (will be again?) a TV show (already another movie is in the works), the ENSEMBLE CAST requires fudging the "star-co-star-supporting" paradigm.
If, in your mind, you're superimposing these characters on the old TV characters, you see disparities and are so busy thinking what the old characters would do that you don't totally engage in and thus BELIEVE the current characters.
The result is that you see melodrama instead of drama because you think the characters are OVER reacting.
Well, is this woman who "trusts" Obama "overreacting?" She doesn't think so, and most of you don't either. She thinks she has good reason to trust him, but can't say what those reasons are. She's just bewildered that anyone might squint sideways at Obama and wonder if WYSIWYG.
It all has to do with how we "judge" people and how we "judge" characters -- how we evaluate the values of another person.
And that brings us to the question of whether politicians (and say, actors?) whose "images" have been professionally built by spin-doctors are "characters" or "people."
And what has this all to do with creating that blockbuster TV show with Alien Romance that will change the world?
That woman was in love with Obama, even though she'd never met him. She couldn't separate the image from the man - the character from the person (as often happens with fans of a TV character who can't separate the actor from the character.)
The adoration I saw in her eyes was soooo totally "romance" -- it was Neptune at it's best, worshipful adoration. I'd seen fans of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, Uhura, and Scotty with that same beatific expression when discussing the lives of the characters as if they were the lives of the actors, or vice-versa.
I saw in her eyes the experience of JOY in being UNDERSTOOD and being SAFE AT LAST. (I'm not kidding; I saw that, but it may not actually have been there. I am always researching this Alien Romance problem even when wandering around the social fabric of my mundane existence!)
She was not an SF fan. She was ever so mundane. She was an older woman, well and securely married. Her husband was there and totally agreed with her assessment of Obama and apparently had no inkling that there could be a jealousy issue going on there.
Here was a woman so infatuated with a public image that is a "character" more than a "person" that she totally believes she's assessed him correctly.
That's what falling in love does. It cuts the critical faculties out of the circuit and allows you to believe the image you are projecting onto someone is the actual, real person and not a reflection of your own aspirations.
And that's exactly the state of mind you must have in order to "fall in love with" a real Alien From Outer Space.
Here's the thing about Neptune, though. What you see in another person through Neptune's veil is sometimes more TRUE than what you see through your critical faculties.
Sometimes, your critical faculties have been honed by training in very logical, practical ways. And because of that, sometimes your critical faculties will reject information that is actually pertinent simply because the information seems implausible.
That's how a professional reviewer could conclude that the JJ Abram's ST movie is "melodramatic." A reviewer often is trained as a critic (they aren't supposed to be the same function), and an art critic has to view art through his/her critical faculties.
But art, by its very nature, speaks to the subconscious, subverting all critical analysis. Even the art of the spin-doctor creating a politician's image for the media speaks to the subconscious. Spin-doctors work with the fabric of symbolism to get you to believe what they tell you in ways that mere words could never achieve.
The subconscious does not view the world through the conscious mind's critical faculties.
When the subconscious becomes convinced, it over-rules the conscious mind and asserts its opinion as the TRUTH. And subconscious can't be swayed by facts.
So, if we're going to create a TV show, an Alien Romance, that will argue our case the way Star Trek argues the case for SF, we have to include one character like the woman I met with the starry-eyes for Obama. This character has to speak for the human capacity to see past the obvious surface and into the true heart -- as McCoy does in Star Trek, and as this woman believes she has with Obama (which she may have; we'll see).
------and one more bit-------or maybe a piece?------
I've been talking a lot about social networking, the cure for the shattering of our culture as mentioned above.
Found this link on twitter
http://social-media-optimization.com/2009/02/top-twenty-five-social-networking-sites-feb-2009/
and on that page it says:
Interesting information from Compete.com that shows Facebook surging past MySpace in Monthly Unique Visitors and that Twitter has moved from #22 to #3 in the rankings of the top 25 social networking sites by monthly visits.
-------------
And another link on that social-media-optimization page is to an article on the "graying of facebook"
-----------------
http://social-media-optimization.com/2009/02/the-graying-of-facebook/
WHICH STARTS:
Last week I was at a meeting at Facebook and as Facebook was talking about their demographics, one of the statistics that struck me was facebook’s demographics is starting to mirror those of the U.S. of A.
-----------------
Nevermind reading these whole articles (hey, I'm not the only long-winded person on the web!), just those two facts juxtaposed with the snatches on ST from Twitter and various reviews is telling us so much about where to find a lever long enough and where to stand to move the world toward respecting Alien Romance.
Here's another bit of the puzzle.
http://www.thegalaxyexpress.net/2009/06/8-ways-science-fiction-romance-could.html
quotes my blog entry at
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
and reasons to the conclusion:
---------- THEGALAXYEXPRESS.NET ---------------
These days, authors aren’t just writers—they’re entrepreneurs.
----------END THEGALAXYEXPRESS.NET ----------
And that is what Jean Lorrah and I have been discussing with an ever increasing intensity.
Jean Lorrah is researching (she's a professor, you know? Research is her bag.) how to employ the techniques used by web based entrepreneurs to the needs of writers. Basically, it's not really a compatible set of techniques. A writer can't just take what these (big buck$ maker$) do and use it to sell books. Readers would run away in droves. But, as you can learn a lot by watching Mission: Impossible or McGiver or Burn Notice or Royal Pains, you can stoke your creative fires by subscribing to free things around the web.
Jean has found a Free Offer from one of the best teachers in the web-entrepreneur business which will open June 15, 2009 and run for a very short while.
See? That's one of their techniques -- short, quick opportunities that ignite your greed to get something others can't get! But to put our culture back together, everyone has to be able to get some specific thing that that everyone else has. We need things in common, not divisiveness.
Here's a link where you will be able to get the free offer (as of June 15th which is next Monday and I don't know how long it'll run). Jean says this is a good place to learn web marketing from Jim Daniels, who has been doing and teaching since 1996.
http://fc403pw6f3th2ke9upz2l1cngo.hop.clickbank.net/
Now to the writing lesson.
If you want to write a BURN NOTICE type TV program to pitch to TV producers, but using (say) a web entrepreneur ( tall, blond, built, and HOT!) as the male lead, and perhaps the actress who stars in (and probably writes and produces and creates the music for) his YouTube videos, getting this free subscription would be a good start in scoping out the character of these people and finding some of the web-entrepreneur tricks that are like the spy-tricks used on BURN NOTICE.
The web entrepreneur tricks can be used as plot devices as High School Chemistry often served McGiver (and now Royal Pains).
Remember how I discussed the use of SETTING in telling a story when a Producer, J. Neil Schulman, mentioned how a Psychic Cruise could be the setting for a Monk or Murder She Wrote episode?
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/medium-is-message_19.html
Here's a chance to do an exercise like that "USA Characters Welcome" pitch.
"Wagon Train To The Stars" became Star Trek because Wagon Train was the most popular, longest running, iconic TV show at the time (maybe other than Gunsmoke, but Gunsmoke took place mostly in one town).
What is the most popular TV show today? Or web-show? What is iconic in the USA? What is topping the ratings? What is the longest running or has the widest demographic? How do you pitch an Alien Romance to the general audience? What do kids and parents watch together?
Iconic Current Show into A New Setting.
We have to transpose that woman I met into the setting we need, and build a springboard into a CHEAP TO MAKE TV series. (Star Trek was cheap for its day, considering the state-of-the-art FX; and it looks it!)
A Web Entrepreneur's life would be a great SETTING, (mostly shot on a standing set of an office with lots of electronics; plus some location shots of hotel ballrooms for speeches; stock shots of airports; standing set hotel rooms -- pretty cheap) and I'm sure a worshipful woman would "fall for" his spin-doctored character in each episode, pissing off his Soul Mate.
Are there any Web Entrepreneur TV series yet? Have I come up with something new here? THE APPRENTICE MEETS MY FAVORITE MARTIAN?
Now consider what an Alien stranded on Earth would do for a living? In BURN NOTICE, we have a guy with no visible means of support using his spy skills to help people and make a few bucks in fees. Why wouldn't an ALIEN gravitate to electronic salesmanship to make a living?
Yes, of course there would be obstacles -- which points to conflict.
Today's audiences are filled with people who have been ousted from salaried jobs and are applying their talents to becoming "consultants" or self-employed entrepreneurs.
Tell me the story as an Alien Romance. I do hope you've read Linnea Sinclair's DOWNHOME ZOMBIE BLUES!!!
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/
Didn't make it today. I did try. Really, I did!
I'm way behind on getting packed for Westercon which will be held in Tempe, AZ, right up the road from me over the July 4th weekend. I've just filled out the speaker questionnaire but don't have my schedule yet. Anyone reading this blog who's planning on Westercon? I didn't see any Alien Romance panels, but signed up for everything that might lead into such a discussion. Come help me open (warp?) some minds.
http://www.westercon.org/
I hope you have had time to read my previous post and all the stuff linked to it. Could take you a week to wade through all that.
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/06/crumbling-business-model-of-writers.html
Waiting for everyone to catch up, here's some bits and pieces of followup on other open topics woven into a writing challenge.
I know there's a novelization of the Trek movie, and I haven't read it yet. (yet being the operative word -- I sooo want the DVD and book; I'll pass on the action figures.)
There's a wild and thriving ongoing set of posts on twitter about people seeing the new ST movie 4 and 5 times and more. Some posts saying "what's so great about ST?" and others in goshwow shock. Other long time fans of Trek are still seeing it FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Twitter is carrying some criticism of the actors, some snearing at the entire concept.
I saw one review that really lowered my opinion of both the reviewer and the publication, calling the ST movie melodramatic.
It isn't.
But I can see how someone assigned to review a movie set in a universe they think of as kiddie stuff or teen-action-stuff (SF has borne that perjorative all along) would find this script "melodramatic." That's a point of view that always happens when someone is not engaged in the fictional universe. If you're wholly engaged, the emotional tension does not seem overblown or out of proportion to the issue. But that works only if you really understand the issue.
If everyone is running for the exit in screaming panic, and you're just standing there, you should ask yourself, "What do they know that I don't know?"
Reviewers who slap the label "melodramatic" on a piece of fiction generally haven't asked themselves that question about the audience that does not see the story as melodramatic. In fact, the rest of the audience may be seeing the story as understated while "sophisticated" reviewers trash it as melodramatic. This is in general, not just about this particular Star Trek movie.
It's not the writer's fault usually. "Melodrama" is not a property of the text or script. It exists only in the reader/viewer's mind. (You won't likely find anyone else who holds such an opinion).
There is one flaw a writer might introduce that could give some viewers the impression of melodrama, and that's failing to display in show-don't-tell the character motivations, sensitivities, hot-button issues, loyalties, friendships, and relationships, all clearly derived from the theme.
The JJ Abram's Star Trek movie is written to give you as much of these character and situation traits as possible in the time alotted (and fit in all the commercially requisite action). Anyone have an opinion on what the envelope theme of this film is? Perhaps it's "The Challenges Temper The Character Strengths?" I.e. what character strengths are there already get made stronger by challenges.
When a reviewer sees a movie as "melodramatic" it may not be the reviewer's fault for being unobservant, disinterested, or prejudiced. It might be the "fault" of the review publication for assigning the wrong person to do the review. If someone has a strong emotional reaction to a piece of fiction, a reaction which embarrasses them deep inside, they might slap a distancing label on the fiction -- as if the fiction is at fault for their own refusal to confront their own emotions. You can't tell if that's the case just be reading a review of a film you have seen.
Or the negative reaction might possibly be the fault of the professional reviewer for choosing to review a product because it's popular so that the review will get read rather than reviewing something else that's less popular.
When I read that accusation of "melodrama" against Star Trek (in the context of "it's not a good enough movie for this much hype and people who are enchanted with it have something wrong with them") it brought up questions about how people interact with fiction, fictional universes, and with their own expectations and anticipations.
There's a lot of hype for the Trek movie, and as usual fans are divided into various camps regarding how well or poorly this or that favorite aspect was handled. In general, and overall, there's a consensus of approval and wait-and-see from the old fans, and some astonished interest from new or younger people. To them, it's just a good action movie without a lot of subtext. To veteran fans, it's ALL subtext.
So public discussion makes non-fans (or even non-viewers of Star Trek) curious, and they go see the movie, and express their reactions in public (on twitter maybe).
That's how you sell a lot of movie tickets, you see. Word of mouth (or tweets) motivates people better than any amount of paid commercial time on TV.
All these thoughts are related to some very abstract thinking I've been doing lately, about how fiction strikes a person at different stages of maturity. (I've been reading a number of children's books for my review column.)
And there are subjects flickering in the back of my mind about how the USA used to have so much of a common language and experience, and how that's all been destroyed.
The base cohesiveness of our society has been shattered. That lack of imagery and trivia in common is taking a huge toll, and most people don't realize why these horrific things are happening. New stuff will arise to take its place, because humans need stuff in common with each other, but meanwhile we've got a generation without a cultural connection to anyone other than those with interests in common. The wireless web is changing THAT, too, but it hasn't taken hold yet.
Not everyone paid attention to the Presidential Election! Those that did formed cliques, as usual in politics. But we can't even say "everyone" heard Obama's speeches other than snippets on news shows. You can read his words on the web, but it's not the same as watching his delivery.
Recently, I met someone who had worshipful, shining, beatific eyes every time she mentioned (often) how much she TRUSTS Obama to do the "right thing." She was absolutely pro-Israel, and seemed totally unaware of Hillary Clinton's declaration that none of the USA's verbal agreements with Israel will be kept, period.
I was thinking, as I watched her speaking to other pro-Israel and not-so-pro-Israel people, that if I put her conversation into a story as dialogue, the editor would X it all out because it's implausible the way she ignored everything everyone else said and insisted on how much she TRUSTS Obama, and that trust solves all problems. (talk about melodrama -- her conversation dripped melodrama -- I could hardly believe I was watching a real person not a character).
Other people listened to her politely, but didn't CHALLENGE her thinking (remember the idea the Star Trek movie is about character tempered by challenge). People just expressed their own opinions, without pointing out the fallacies in hers -- they could see she would explode emotionally if challenged, and that would be disruptive to the group. So she left without having her certainties questioned, as one would expect in DIALOGUE. Her "story" and "plot" did not progress because of this group conversation.
Which of course leads into a point I've made on this blog before, that:
A) DIALOGUE is not CONVERSATION.
B) CHARACTERS are not PEOPLE
Somone who prefers to read non-fiction, but has to watch the Star Trek movie ( because maybe their wife dragged them?) might take the film's dialogue as "melodramatic" because it tries, in a very short time, to lay out for you a set of comprehensible motives.
Also consider this is a feature film. The series was designed to be an ensemble show, and each of the characters got a 50 minute (back when there were fewer commercial minutes per hour - maybe 49 minutes) show in which to be introduced. But JJ Abrams was starting from scratch to introduce these (NEW) characters to a new audience, all in one movie.
The script actually does that introduction fairly well within the time alotted. The characters of course come off shallow if all you know is what you see in this new movie, shallow and perhaps overly impressed with themselves.
One of the requirements for good feature film script writing is that there is ONE star character, and maybe a co-star, and all the rest are SUPPORTING characters. Kirk is of course nominally assigned the "starring role" -- but the truth from the POV of many viewers is that Spock is the star. (yep, I'm one of those). Because this show was (will be again?) a TV show (already another movie is in the works), the ENSEMBLE CAST requires fudging the "star-co-star-supporting" paradigm.
If, in your mind, you're superimposing these characters on the old TV characters, you see disparities and are so busy thinking what the old characters would do that you don't totally engage in and thus BELIEVE the current characters.
The result is that you see melodrama instead of drama because you think the characters are OVER reacting.
Well, is this woman who "trusts" Obama "overreacting?" She doesn't think so, and most of you don't either. She thinks she has good reason to trust him, but can't say what those reasons are. She's just bewildered that anyone might squint sideways at Obama and wonder if WYSIWYG.
It all has to do with how we "judge" people and how we "judge" characters -- how we evaluate the values of another person.
And that brings us to the question of whether politicians (and say, actors?) whose "images" have been professionally built by spin-doctors are "characters" or "people."
And what has this all to do with creating that blockbuster TV show with Alien Romance that will change the world?
That woman was in love with Obama, even though she'd never met him. She couldn't separate the image from the man - the character from the person (as often happens with fans of a TV character who can't separate the actor from the character.)
The adoration I saw in her eyes was soooo totally "romance" -- it was Neptune at it's best, worshipful adoration. I'd seen fans of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, Uhura, and Scotty with that same beatific expression when discussing the lives of the characters as if they were the lives of the actors, or vice-versa.
I saw in her eyes the experience of JOY in being UNDERSTOOD and being SAFE AT LAST. (I'm not kidding; I saw that, but it may not actually have been there. I am always researching this Alien Romance problem even when wandering around the social fabric of my mundane existence!)
She was not an SF fan. She was ever so mundane. She was an older woman, well and securely married. Her husband was there and totally agreed with her assessment of Obama and apparently had no inkling that there could be a jealousy issue going on there.
Here was a woman so infatuated with a public image that is a "character" more than a "person" that she totally believes she's assessed him correctly.
That's what falling in love does. It cuts the critical faculties out of the circuit and allows you to believe the image you are projecting onto someone is the actual, real person and not a reflection of your own aspirations.
And that's exactly the state of mind you must have in order to "fall in love with" a real Alien From Outer Space.
Here's the thing about Neptune, though. What you see in another person through Neptune's veil is sometimes more TRUE than what you see through your critical faculties.
Sometimes, your critical faculties have been honed by training in very logical, practical ways. And because of that, sometimes your critical faculties will reject information that is actually pertinent simply because the information seems implausible.
That's how a professional reviewer could conclude that the JJ Abram's ST movie is "melodramatic." A reviewer often is trained as a critic (they aren't supposed to be the same function), and an art critic has to view art through his/her critical faculties.
But art, by its very nature, speaks to the subconscious, subverting all critical analysis. Even the art of the spin-doctor creating a politician's image for the media speaks to the subconscious. Spin-doctors work with the fabric of symbolism to get you to believe what they tell you in ways that mere words could never achieve.
The subconscious does not view the world through the conscious mind's critical faculties.
When the subconscious becomes convinced, it over-rules the conscious mind and asserts its opinion as the TRUTH. And subconscious can't be swayed by facts.
So, if we're going to create a TV show, an Alien Romance, that will argue our case the way Star Trek argues the case for SF, we have to include one character like the woman I met with the starry-eyes for Obama. This character has to speak for the human capacity to see past the obvious surface and into the true heart -- as McCoy does in Star Trek, and as this woman believes she has with Obama (which she may have; we'll see).
------and one more bit-------or maybe a piece?------
I've been talking a lot about social networking, the cure for the shattering of our culture as mentioned above.
Found this link on twitter
http://social-media-optimization.com/2009/02/top-twenty-five-social-networking-sites-feb-2009/
and on that page it says:
Interesting information from Compete.com that shows Facebook surging past MySpace in Monthly Unique Visitors and that Twitter has moved from #22 to #3 in the rankings of the top 25 social networking sites by monthly visits.
-------------
And another link on that social-media-optimization page is to an article on the "graying of facebook"
-----------------
http://social-media-optimization.com/2009/02/the-graying-of-facebook/
WHICH STARTS:
Last week I was at a meeting at Facebook and as Facebook was talking about their demographics, one of the statistics that struck me was facebook’s demographics is starting to mirror those of the U.S. of A.
-----------------
Nevermind reading these whole articles (hey, I'm not the only long-winded person on the web!), just those two facts juxtaposed with the snatches on ST from Twitter and various reviews is telling us so much about where to find a lever long enough and where to stand to move the world toward respecting Alien Romance.
Here's another bit of the puzzle.
http://www.thegalaxyexpress.net/2009/06/8-ways-science-fiction-romance-could.html
quotes my blog entry at
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
and reasons to the conclusion:
---------- THEGALAXYEXPRESS.NET ---------------
These days, authors aren’t just writers—they’re entrepreneurs.
----------END THEGALAXYEXPRESS.NET ----------
And that is what Jean Lorrah and I have been discussing with an ever increasing intensity.
Jean Lorrah is researching (she's a professor, you know? Research is her bag.) how to employ the techniques used by web based entrepreneurs to the needs of writers. Basically, it's not really a compatible set of techniques. A writer can't just take what these (big buck$ maker$) do and use it to sell books. Readers would run away in droves. But, as you can learn a lot by watching Mission: Impossible or McGiver or Burn Notice or Royal Pains, you can stoke your creative fires by subscribing to free things around the web.
Jean has found a Free Offer from one of the best teachers in the web-entrepreneur business which will open June 15, 2009 and run for a very short while.
See? That's one of their techniques -- short, quick opportunities that ignite your greed to get something others can't get! But to put our culture back together, everyone has to be able to get some specific thing that that everyone else has. We need things in common, not divisiveness.
Here's a link where you will be able to get the free offer (as of June 15th which is next Monday and I don't know how long it'll run). Jean says this is a good place to learn web marketing from Jim Daniels, who has been doing and teaching since 1996.
http://fc403pw6f3th2ke9upz2l1cngo.hop.clickbank.net/
Now to the writing lesson.
If you want to write a BURN NOTICE type TV program to pitch to TV producers, but using (say) a web entrepreneur ( tall, blond, built, and HOT!) as the male lead, and perhaps the actress who stars in (and probably writes and produces and creates the music for) his YouTube videos, getting this free subscription would be a good start in scoping out the character of these people and finding some of the web-entrepreneur tricks that are like the spy-tricks used on BURN NOTICE.
The web entrepreneur tricks can be used as plot devices as High School Chemistry often served McGiver (and now Royal Pains).
Remember how I discussed the use of SETTING in telling a story when a Producer, J. Neil Schulman, mentioned how a Psychic Cruise could be the setting for a Monk or Murder She Wrote episode?
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/medium-is-message_19.html
Here's a chance to do an exercise like that "USA Characters Welcome" pitch.
"Wagon Train To The Stars" became Star Trek because Wagon Train was the most popular, longest running, iconic TV show at the time (maybe other than Gunsmoke, but Gunsmoke took place mostly in one town).
What is the most popular TV show today? Or web-show? What is iconic in the USA? What is topping the ratings? What is the longest running or has the widest demographic? How do you pitch an Alien Romance to the general audience? What do kids and parents watch together?
Iconic Current Show into A New Setting.
We have to transpose that woman I met into the setting we need, and build a springboard into a CHEAP TO MAKE TV series. (Star Trek was cheap for its day, considering the state-of-the-art FX; and it looks it!)
A Web Entrepreneur's life would be a great SETTING, (mostly shot on a standing set of an office with lots of electronics; plus some location shots of hotel ballrooms for speeches; stock shots of airports; standing set hotel rooms -- pretty cheap) and I'm sure a worshipful woman would "fall for" his spin-doctored character in each episode, pissing off his Soul Mate.
Are there any Web Entrepreneur TV series yet? Have I come up with something new here? THE APPRENTICE MEETS MY FAVORITE MARTIAN?
Now consider what an Alien stranded on Earth would do for a living? In BURN NOTICE, we have a guy with no visible means of support using his spy skills to help people and make a few bucks in fees. Why wouldn't an ALIEN gravitate to electronic salesmanship to make a living?
Yes, of course there would be obstacles -- which points to conflict.
Today's audiences are filled with people who have been ousted from salaried jobs and are applying their talents to becoming "consultants" or self-employed entrepreneurs.
Tell me the story as an Alien Romance. I do hope you've read Linnea Sinclair's DOWNHOME ZOMBIE BLUES!!!
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/
Monday, June 08, 2009
Mirror, Mirror
(this blog was originally a column in FUTURES magazine, @ 1999. FYI)
If a tree falls in the great forest, and no one’s there, does it make a sound? If a writer creates a character, and it’s drawn solely from his or her own mind, isn’t the character really the writer? If the basic task of literature is to explore the human heart and mind, whose heart and mind are we really exploring?
I don't know what the answer is to the first ‘if’ posited. But the second and third ‘ifs’ are things that have wandered around in my brain from time to time. You see, as an investigator, I spend a lot of my working moments wondering about people. Why do they do the things they do? What motivates them? What makes them follow their dreams or succumb to their fears?
It’s almost a requisite in investigative work to have the ability to get inside your subject’s head. Think his thoughts, walk in his shoes. I know of no other way to approach a locate on missing person than to understand what forced him to run in the first place.
When I read fiction -- or try to write fiction -- I see the same processes at work. A big part of characterization is making sure the character acts, well, in character. A bizarre action must be proceeded by a sufficiently bizarre catalyst in the plot.
But this bizarre action (or not so bizarre action) really isn’t the character’s. It’s the writer’s. It’s yours. And mine.
Everything you read, and everything you write, is a very personal internal journey. It’s an exposition of exposing deep desires and fears. It’s preferences, opinions, possibilities. It’s total vulnerability, couched in fiction, offered for entertainment.
Sue Grafton recently stated in an interview that her well-known character, Kinsey Milhone, is her younger (and thinner) other-self. And more than one mystery novelist has posed on the back cover with the ubiquitous fedora skewed over one eye. I’ll willingly admit, as science fiction romance is my genre and poison of choice, that one of my most treasured possessions is a video tape of me in full Star Fleet captain’s uniform on the bridge of the Enterprise. No, I wasn’t an extra on the set of the shows or the movies. Universal Studios in Orlando, for a fee, offers theme park patrons a chance to ‘star’ in their own five minute “Star Trek” scene. For me, a personal Nirvana.
I think our desire to find these personal nirvanas blossoms most frequently in the arts: literature, music, visual arts. The instrument, the book cover, the ornate frame provides us just enough distance to be able to comfortably bare our souls. It permits us to be able to fall back on the excuse of, “I was only pretending”. It’s just a poem. A story. A painting.
The human heart and mind, the “human condition”, to me, is not that personal. The human condition is an aggregate. A pollster’s result. The view from afar.
When I as an investigator work a missing person case, or a deep background, the far view does me very little good. We are not motivated by our similarities but by our eccentricities. Our secret desire to be a starship captain, an invincible heroine, an ageless wonder with thinner thighs. A tried and true saying in investigative work is that there are only two elements to any crime: motive and opportunity.
Notice that motive comes first.
And motives are very, very personal.
Cases are solved not through generalities but through attention to specifics.
And literature, in my humble opinion, pool side here at the Center for the Slightly Skewed, is compelling not for its broad strokes but for its fine lines and shadings. Its infinite and sharp definition of detail. It’s a one on one, hand in hand, personal encounter. Just you and me in the midst of the great forest, sitting on that tree that fell when no one was around to hear it.
Baring our unique and very individual souls.
~Linnea
Linnea Sinclair
// Interstellar Adventure Infused with Romance//
Available Now from Bantam: Hope's Folly
http://www.linneasinclair.com/
If a tree falls in the great forest, and no one’s there, does it make a sound? If a writer creates a character, and it’s drawn solely from his or her own mind, isn’t the character really the writer? If the basic task of literature is to explore the human heart and mind, whose heart and mind are we really exploring?
I don't know what the answer is to the first ‘if’ posited. But the second and third ‘ifs’ are things that have wandered around in my brain from time to time. You see, as an investigator, I spend a lot of my working moments wondering about people. Why do they do the things they do? What motivates them? What makes them follow their dreams or succumb to their fears?
It’s almost a requisite in investigative work to have the ability to get inside your subject’s head. Think his thoughts, walk in his shoes. I know of no other way to approach a locate on missing person than to understand what forced him to run in the first place.
When I read fiction -- or try to write fiction -- I see the same processes at work. A big part of characterization is making sure the character acts, well, in character. A bizarre action must be proceeded by a sufficiently bizarre catalyst in the plot.
But this bizarre action (or not so bizarre action) really isn’t the character’s. It’s the writer’s. It’s yours. And mine.
Everything you read, and everything you write, is a very personal internal journey. It’s an exposition of exposing deep desires and fears. It’s preferences, opinions, possibilities. It’s total vulnerability, couched in fiction, offered for entertainment.
Sue Grafton recently stated in an interview that her well-known character, Kinsey Milhone, is her younger (and thinner) other-self. And more than one mystery novelist has posed on the back cover with the ubiquitous fedora skewed over one eye. I’ll willingly admit, as science fiction romance is my genre and poison of choice, that one of my most treasured possessions is a video tape of me in full Star Fleet captain’s uniform on the bridge of the Enterprise. No, I wasn’t an extra on the set of the shows or the movies. Universal Studios in Orlando, for a fee, offers theme park patrons a chance to ‘star’ in their own five minute “Star Trek” scene. For me, a personal Nirvana.
I think our desire to find these personal nirvanas blossoms most frequently in the arts: literature, music, visual arts. The instrument, the book cover, the ornate frame provides us just enough distance to be able to comfortably bare our souls. It permits us to be able to fall back on the excuse of, “I was only pretending”. It’s just a poem. A story. A painting.
The human heart and mind, the “human condition”, to me, is not that personal. The human condition is an aggregate. A pollster’s result. The view from afar.
When I as an investigator work a missing person case, or a deep background, the far view does me very little good. We are not motivated by our similarities but by our eccentricities. Our secret desire to be a starship captain, an invincible heroine, an ageless wonder with thinner thighs. A tried and true saying in investigative work is that there are only two elements to any crime: motive and opportunity.
Notice that motive comes first.
And motives are very, very personal.
Cases are solved not through generalities but through attention to specifics.
And literature, in my humble opinion, pool side here at the Center for the Slightly Skewed, is compelling not for its broad strokes but for its fine lines and shadings. Its infinite and sharp definition of detail. It’s a one on one, hand in hand, personal encounter. Just you and me in the midst of the great forest, sitting on that tree that fell when no one was around to hear it.
Baring our unique and very individual souls.
~Linnea
Linnea Sinclair
// Interstellar Adventure Infused with Romance//
Available Now from Bantam: Hope's Folly
http://www.linneasinclair.com/
Sunday, June 07, 2009
The Hyper-tasking gene
While recording my "Space Pirates" internet radio show last Tuesday (which will go out over the air live this coming Tuesday June 9th, and which can also be heard free in the archives of http://internetvoicesradio.com David Lee Summers mentioned his "hyper-tasking" gene.
I thought it was a pretty cool idea.
David Lee Summers suggests that some humans may have such a gene which would enable them to perform at comparable levels with aliens, even if they lacked the life experience and training of the aliens.
On Saturday, I happened to be watching the interviews with the racing drivers who did best in qualifying for the Grand Prix today. They all had eyes like Target logos, with dark circles round the outer rim of the iris.
I'm using that as a marker....
I thought it was a pretty cool idea.
David Lee Summers suggests that some humans may have such a gene which would enable them to perform at comparable levels with aliens, even if they lacked the life experience and training of the aliens.
On Saturday, I happened to be watching the interviews with the racing drivers who did best in qualifying for the Grand Prix today. They all had eyes like Target logos, with dark circles round the outer rim of the iris.
I'm using that as a marker....
Saturday, June 06, 2009
When a story doesn't work part three
This is chapter two of my proposal. I was fascinated with the thought of a mech hero so here was my chance to have one. Dax as a human was something of an artist, he played the guitar, he was just a genuinely nice guy, trying to get by, who had the good fortune to have an exceptional woman fall in love with him. If you watch American Idol imagine him as Kris Allen. So then this horrible thing happens to him. On his wedding day he's captured, blown apart, tortured and forced into this life that he does not what. I feel like I really put the screws to this guy in this chapter. The response I got from two editors was we just could not empathize with the characters. What? I write strong characters that people love. So maybe it was just my delivery. I was trying to suck the reader into the story. I'll explain more on that process later on. So here's Dax and chapter two.
The Real
Dax slumped between the two mechs that held him by the arms. They seemed frozen in place but there was nothing he could do about it and it didn’t last long enough for him to react, even if it could. They were still one moment and moving the next. A med-tech that emerged from the waiting transport attached an ion ring to his thigh. His leg was gone. He didn’t care about the leg other than the fact that it kept him from running after the thopter that held Merritt captive inside.
Merritt…
Why? Why did they take her? Where were they taking her? What would they do to her? He watched the thopter disappear into the darkness then saw it again when it rose over the treetops and headed towards the dome. How would he ever find her in there?
Merritt…He knew why they took her. There was something about her. Something that could not be defined but he had always known it was there. Every since she came to them in the real there was something about her that made her different from the rest of them.
Dax closed the fist of his left hand to secure the ring she had slipped on his finger not more than an hour before. It was their wedding day. A day that he had longed for since he first met her. Now she was gone. He jumped as he felt a sting in his neck. The med-tech stepped away.
The pain in his thigh stopped as the ion ring took hold. He was still helpless. Still at the mercy of the mechs. Dax looked up at the mech who stood before him. “Where is he taking her?” he asked. He felt weak. Exhausted. Beaten.
The mech looked over his shoulder at the thopter that with the distance looked no larger than a bat before the full moon. He turned back and cocked his head to the side. Dax heard a strange chirp and then the mech spoke. “There is no her,” he said. “Accepted.”
“No her?” Dax exploded but it was an empty rage. His arms were stretched out and firmly held, he was propped on one knee and the numbness from the prick to his neck spread into his arms from his spine. “You saw her,” he gasped as the numb feeling seemed to press against his lunges. “You….saw…her…”
“Accepted,” he heard as the world went black.
<>
The Dome
The light from above burned through his eyes. He wanted to close them but found that simple task impossible. Dax felt strange and disconnected from his body. He was aware of everything but could feel nothing physical. Yet there was pain. Pain in his heart and soul. Pain that throbbed and burned with an unyielding agony.
Merritt…
He remembered what happened. He remembered waking up this morning, was it this morning? He remembered thinking it was the happiest day of his life. He remembered talking to his father. He remembered his sister’s gentle teasing. He remembered how beautiful Merritt looked as she walked to him in the dress that had been his mother’s and her mother’s before and so on through more generations that he could count. He remembered exchanging vows with her. He remembered the terror when they realized that the mech’s from the dome were attacking and how they scattered in several directions. He remembered that he never let go of Merritt’s hand as they ran and tried to hide because there were no weapons. Who brought weapons to a wedding? He remembered that they took her away. The memory of it tore at his insides with a pain so intense that he wanted to scream in frustration, yet he could not move, he could not make a sound; he could not even close his eyes.
Dax knew that he was strapped down on a steel table and he was naked. He felt the straps over his chest, his upper arms, his hips, his thighs, his one ankle and his wrists. He felt the cold metal against his shoulders and buttocks. He felt cold air blow over his skin and goosebumps popped up. He needed to shiver, yet his body was not responding to even the most basic and simple commands. Shivering should just happen, or it would have before his world had been turned upside down.
If only he could turn his head away from the light that felt as if it would burn into his brain.
Merritt…
He heard voices, chatting and laughing, as if nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong. He had to get away, yet how could he? His leg was gone. And he’d give the other one to get Merritt back.
If only he knew where she was. If she was unharmed. If she was frightened. If only he could go back to the hours before and stop it. If only he had done a better job of protecting her.
“Oh, he’s a nice one,” a feminine voice said. “The ones from outside are always so much bigger.”
“They’re nothing more than savages,” a male voice said. “And don’t get distracted. You’re here to learn, not play.”
The light suddenly was gone and Dax realized that it was a body blocking it. He couldn’t blink to refocus but he thought it was the woman. A musky scent drifted over him. She wore perfume, something meant to entice the opposite sex. It seemed strangely out of place among the sterile smells of the room.
“Should his eyes be open?” The woman asked. “I feel like he’s looking at me.”
She looked down at him. “I wish I had lashes like that.” Her face was inches from his. Dax was able to make out a sharp nose on an ordinary face. But all faces were ordinary compared to Merritt’s.
“He’s not looking at you,” the man’s voice said. Dax felt a sharp prick on the bottom of his foot. “He’s unresponsive.”
I can feel everything…The realization hit him….He was paralyzed but not numbed. And he was strapped down to a table. A table with a bright light over it. What were they planning to do to him? He looked in earnest at the woman, trying to make her see, to realize, that he was conscious of everything that was happening around him.
Her hand trailed down his chest. Her nails scraped his skin.
Oh God…
He was so vulnerable. Exposed.
Her fingertips grazed his groin and then moved between his legs and grasped his sac. She enclosed it in her hand and gave a slight squeeze. “Looks like he’s responsive to me,” she said.
“Hmmm,” the man said. “Must be purely reactive.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe I’m that good?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” the man said. “Even I could do that.”
“You want too don’t you?” the woman teased. “I’ve heard that about you.”
“Are you here to learn or are you here to play?” the man asked impatiently.
“They also said you were no fun at all,” the woman said in a pouting tone. She removed her hand from between his legs. If he could have sighed in relief he would have. He felt strangely tense even though he knew his body, except for one significant part, was only lying there. If he could will his muscles to do anything he would.
“He’s wearing a ring,” the woman said as she picked up his left hand.
“Really?” the man replied. “They should have stripped him.”
“Well obviously they missed it,” she said. “Can I?”
“I don’t see why not,” the man said. “It’s not as if he’s going to need it.”
NO! He willed his hand to close, his fist to clench, anything to keep the ring on. Instead it slipped off his finger easily.
“Ohhh,” she said. “It’s very pretty. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Its mine…I made it…them…for us…He could see the pattern, silver and gold twisted together in an unending circle. No beginning, no end, just together, forever, the way he and Merritt were meant to be. One for him, one for her…not for this woman’s thieving hand.
“Lucky you,” the man said. “Consider it a bonus.”
“Oh look, it fits,” she said. “On my thumb,” she added.
I will cut all your fingers off to get it back…
“Quit playing around,” the man said. “We have to take off the other leg.”
“Why?” the woman asked.
Why?
“He’ll be unbalanced,” the man replied. Dax heard the sounds. The clink of instruments. The movement of a table. The hum of sonics. “The admanium enhancements will be stronger than his normal leg.”
“
So if we just gave him one he’d constantly walk in circles?” the woman joked.
The man let out a barking laugh. “Something like that,” he said.
God…they’re making jokes…
“We best have him prepped before the Doc shows up or he’ll be taking off our legs,” the man said. “Put an ion ring on his thigh,” he instructed.
He felt her hands on his thigh, felt the ring go around, felt the pads of her fingers as she fumbled with the catch.
“Here?” she asked.
“Yes, like the other,” the man said. “The Ionizer will keep everything fluid so the admanium can meld.”
“The legs are ready made?” she asked.
“Yes, although it takes a while for the connections to format. Usually a week or so. We use that time for the reprogramming.” The man rattled the table and Dax heard the hum of a sonic saw.
Reprogramming? What did that mean?
The mechs…The mechs raided the Real. They took the men they captured. They were never heard from again after they disappeared into the Dome. Were they reprogrammed? Would reprogramming mean he would not be himself anymore? The mech’s certainly acted like machines, even though they were men. Or were they?
What were they doing?
“The Ionizer will also help cut down on the blood loss,” the man said.
Dax knew what was coming. If only they knew he could still feel. How could they not know? Or maybe they just didn’t care. He wanted to scream, kick, yell, anything to get their attention. He couldn’t even grit his teeth against the coming pain. Nausea rolled through his stomach and it occurred to him that he would probably puke and then choke on it.
T
hat would be better. Better to be dead than reprogrammed.
But dead meant leaving Merritt…He must find Merritt.
Pain more agonizing than he could imagine tore through his leg. The sonic blade connected with the tissue and it cut through, slowly, severing blood vessels, muscle, and bone. The hum grew louder as it descended into the bone.
God…I’m dying… There was nothing he could do. His body screamed with every molecule yet he was silent and unmoving. Dax felt his eyes well and then tears tracked down his face. Merritt…
How could they not know?
The noise from the sonic blade died away but the pain remained.
“Turn on the ion ring,” the man said. The woman must have complied because the pain suddenly faded away.
He could not even swallow back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.
“What will you do with his leg?” the woman asked.
“Throw it in the incinerator,” the man replied. “It’s of no use to anyone now.”
He was nothing to them. A project. A learning experience. Dax wanted to see their faces. He wanted to remember them, before he was “reprogrammed”. He wanted to know his torturers because knowledge would fuel his hatred, hatred that gathered in the pit of his stomach and fed off the acid of his pain.
He heard the woosh of a door opening, heard a thump, and realized that it was his leg, gone to vapor, just like the other one. Another door opened.
“Has the subject been prepped?” another man’s voice said.
“Yes sir,” the first man replied. “His legs are ready. I left the rest for you.”
“Who is this?” the man asked.
“I’m Coral sir,” the woman said.
“Nice to meet you Coral,” the second man replied is a voice that implied something more than work.
If he could have rolled his eyes he would have. He was nothing to them. Nothing but a slab on a table to be talked over while whoever was in charge tried to connect with the woman who was probably more than willing. And the other guy watched.
He heard a table move and shadows moved between the light and his eyes. Dax tried to focus. He wanted to remember them.
“Now let’s try not to get these one backwards,” the second man said and the other two laughed. Dax felt heat on his thighs as the second man talked. “This softens the structure,” the man explained,” and enables the bonding. A tingling moved up his nerve endings into his spine. “Complete melding of the tissue, vessels, and nerves,” the man went on. “Amazing. It still astounds me, every time I see it. Of course it takes a while for it to sustain the density of the bone. It even takes on the genetic code so he’ll be the same height as before.”
“Can that be changed Doctor Everts?” the woman asked. So he was a Doctor. Did that justify what he was doing?
“There was some testing done with that some years back,” Everts replied. “But it was all destroyed in the great fire. All lost.”
“I remember that,” the first man said. “It was a great tragedy. Didn’t the head scientist die in that fire?”
“Yes,” Everts said. “Simskin please.”
Dax heard a sound like paper being torn.
“He didn’t back up his work. He was paranoid that way,” Everts continued as Dax felt a pinching around his thigh. “So not only was he lost, but all his work. No one has been able to replicate it.”
“What a shame,” the woman said. “That’s amazing. It looks so real.”
“Unfortunately it’s unable to grow hair,” Everts said.
“It’s not as if he needs it,” the first man said.
“True,” Everts said. “But it makes it unpractical for youth enhancement as if it’s almost too perfect. There’s no color change or glow that would be natural on a face.”
“As in no one wants anyone to know they had work done,” the woman said.
“Exactly,” Everts agreed. Dax felt the pinching again on his other thigh. “The sim skin will meld over the admanium and in a weeks time he’ll be good as new.” Dax heard the clatter of instruments. “Now for the reprogramming.”
The light disappeared again as the Doctor’s head came between Dax and the light. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?” the woman asked.
“Where you two idiots not aware that he is conscious?” A face hovered over his, close enough that they were almost nose to nose.
Remember this…Remember…
“I did a reaction test,” the first man said.
“There’s a difference you moron,” Everts exclaimed. “Look at his eyes.”
Another face appeared before Dax. He gathered in the details as best he could, square jaw, light brown hair cut extremely short. Small brown eyes, thin lips and an upturned nose.
Remember him…
“Unconscious men don’t cry,” Everts said. “Those are tears. The med techs paralyzed him for transport. It was up to you to put him out.”
“Do you mean he felt everything?” the woman asked.
“He felt everything and he heard everything,” Everts said angrily. “Poor bastard,” he added.
Thank you so much, Dax said silently. I’ll remember that when I kill all of you.
Dax heard the noise of a drill.
“Will somebody put this guy out of his misery?” Everts said impatiently. Dax felt a sting in his arm and the light began to fade.
It still was not black when he felt the drill go into his temple.
<>
“*blip* 14:29/09/09/2202 Dallas Five-five on line. Acknowledge. *blip*” The symbols trailed across the plastigrid that covered his eyes. Pain shot through his temples and he gave his head a quick shake as he tried to focus on the words.
“*blip* Acknowledge. *blip*” the voice repeated.
“Accepted,” he replied.
“Five-five respond to my command,” the man before him said.
He turned his head to look at the voice. It belonged to a man in uniform who stood before a table containing a holi-vid and keyboard. A simkey was inserted in the man’s temple and it glowed with a green light. His scanner moved and the identity moved across his screen. Baker. Techno. Dallas Squadron. “Acknowledge,” he said.
“Stand,” Baker said.
“Accepted,” he said and stood.
“Walk to me,” Baker said.
He looked down at his legs. He was conscious of the fact that he was nude except for the visor that went across his eyes and was somehow connected to his head at the temples. He wanted to reach up and touch his head. He felt a strange pressure around his skull He moved his hands and stared down at them. He turned them over, palms up.
There was something missing.
“*blip* Acknowledge walk to me. *blip*
His head snapped up. “Accepted,” he said and walked to Baker.
“I’m guessing your momma thought you were stubborn Five-five,” Baker said. “We’ll have to make a few adjustments to your programming.”
Five-five stared at Baker. He needed a definition of the word “momma” but none was forthcoming so he waited.
A pain shot through his temple but he made no move in response to it. He was incapable of it.
“That should do it,” Baker said. “Get dressed Five-five.”
“Accepted,” he said and walked to the clothing that lay on a table.
Just a side note. I loved the *blips* Will have to find a way to use them someday.
The Real
Dax slumped between the two mechs that held him by the arms. They seemed frozen in place but there was nothing he could do about it and it didn’t last long enough for him to react, even if it could. They were still one moment and moving the next. A med-tech that emerged from the waiting transport attached an ion ring to his thigh. His leg was gone. He didn’t care about the leg other than the fact that it kept him from running after the thopter that held Merritt captive inside.
Merritt…
Why? Why did they take her? Where were they taking her? What would they do to her? He watched the thopter disappear into the darkness then saw it again when it rose over the treetops and headed towards the dome. How would he ever find her in there?
Merritt…He knew why they took her. There was something about her. Something that could not be defined but he had always known it was there. Every since she came to them in the real there was something about her that made her different from the rest of them.
Dax closed the fist of his left hand to secure the ring she had slipped on his finger not more than an hour before. It was their wedding day. A day that he had longed for since he first met her. Now she was gone. He jumped as he felt a sting in his neck. The med-tech stepped away.
The pain in his thigh stopped as the ion ring took hold. He was still helpless. Still at the mercy of the mechs. Dax looked up at the mech who stood before him. “Where is he taking her?” he asked. He felt weak. Exhausted. Beaten.
The mech looked over his shoulder at the thopter that with the distance looked no larger than a bat before the full moon. He turned back and cocked his head to the side. Dax heard a strange chirp and then the mech spoke. “There is no her,” he said. “Accepted.”
“No her?” Dax exploded but it was an empty rage. His arms were stretched out and firmly held, he was propped on one knee and the numbness from the prick to his neck spread into his arms from his spine. “You saw her,” he gasped as the numb feeling seemed to press against his lunges. “You….saw…her…”
“Accepted,” he heard as the world went black.
<>
The Dome
The light from above burned through his eyes. He wanted to close them but found that simple task impossible. Dax felt strange and disconnected from his body. He was aware of everything but could feel nothing physical. Yet there was pain. Pain in his heart and soul. Pain that throbbed and burned with an unyielding agony.
Merritt…
He remembered what happened. He remembered waking up this morning, was it this morning? He remembered thinking it was the happiest day of his life. He remembered talking to his father. He remembered his sister’s gentle teasing. He remembered how beautiful Merritt looked as she walked to him in the dress that had been his mother’s and her mother’s before and so on through more generations that he could count. He remembered exchanging vows with her. He remembered the terror when they realized that the mech’s from the dome were attacking and how they scattered in several directions. He remembered that he never let go of Merritt’s hand as they ran and tried to hide because there were no weapons. Who brought weapons to a wedding? He remembered that they took her away. The memory of it tore at his insides with a pain so intense that he wanted to scream in frustration, yet he could not move, he could not make a sound; he could not even close his eyes.
Dax knew that he was strapped down on a steel table and he was naked. He felt the straps over his chest, his upper arms, his hips, his thighs, his one ankle and his wrists. He felt the cold metal against his shoulders and buttocks. He felt cold air blow over his skin and goosebumps popped up. He needed to shiver, yet his body was not responding to even the most basic and simple commands. Shivering should just happen, or it would have before his world had been turned upside down.
If only he could turn his head away from the light that felt as if it would burn into his brain.
Merritt…
He heard voices, chatting and laughing, as if nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong. He had to get away, yet how could he? His leg was gone. And he’d give the other one to get Merritt back.
If only he knew where she was. If she was unharmed. If she was frightened. If only he could go back to the hours before and stop it. If only he had done a better job of protecting her.
“Oh, he’s a nice one,” a feminine voice said. “The ones from outside are always so much bigger.”
“They’re nothing more than savages,” a male voice said. “And don’t get distracted. You’re here to learn, not play.”
The light suddenly was gone and Dax realized that it was a body blocking it. He couldn’t blink to refocus but he thought it was the woman. A musky scent drifted over him. She wore perfume, something meant to entice the opposite sex. It seemed strangely out of place among the sterile smells of the room.
“Should his eyes be open?” The woman asked. “I feel like he’s looking at me.”
She looked down at him. “I wish I had lashes like that.” Her face was inches from his. Dax was able to make out a sharp nose on an ordinary face. But all faces were ordinary compared to Merritt’s.
“He’s not looking at you,” the man’s voice said. Dax felt a sharp prick on the bottom of his foot. “He’s unresponsive.”
I can feel everything…The realization hit him….He was paralyzed but not numbed. And he was strapped down to a table. A table with a bright light over it. What were they planning to do to him? He looked in earnest at the woman, trying to make her see, to realize, that he was conscious of everything that was happening around him.
Her hand trailed down his chest. Her nails scraped his skin.
Oh God…
He was so vulnerable. Exposed.
Her fingertips grazed his groin and then moved between his legs and grasped his sac. She enclosed it in her hand and gave a slight squeeze. “Looks like he’s responsive to me,” she said.
“Hmmm,” the man said. “Must be purely reactive.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe I’m that good?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” the man said. “Even I could do that.”
“You want too don’t you?” the woman teased. “I’ve heard that about you.”
“Are you here to learn or are you here to play?” the man asked impatiently.
“They also said you were no fun at all,” the woman said in a pouting tone. She removed her hand from between his legs. If he could have sighed in relief he would have. He felt strangely tense even though he knew his body, except for one significant part, was only lying there. If he could will his muscles to do anything he would.
“He’s wearing a ring,” the woman said as she picked up his left hand.
“Really?” the man replied. “They should have stripped him.”
“Well obviously they missed it,” she said. “Can I?”
“I don’t see why not,” the man said. “It’s not as if he’s going to need it.”
NO! He willed his hand to close, his fist to clench, anything to keep the ring on. Instead it slipped off his finger easily.
“Ohhh,” she said. “It’s very pretty. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Its mine…I made it…them…for us…He could see the pattern, silver and gold twisted together in an unending circle. No beginning, no end, just together, forever, the way he and Merritt were meant to be. One for him, one for her…not for this woman’s thieving hand.
“Lucky you,” the man said. “Consider it a bonus.”
“Oh look, it fits,” she said. “On my thumb,” she added.
I will cut all your fingers off to get it back…
“Quit playing around,” the man said. “We have to take off the other leg.”
“Why?” the woman asked.
Why?
“He’ll be unbalanced,” the man replied. Dax heard the sounds. The clink of instruments. The movement of a table. The hum of sonics. “The admanium enhancements will be stronger than his normal leg.”
“
So if we just gave him one he’d constantly walk in circles?” the woman joked.
The man let out a barking laugh. “Something like that,” he said.
God…they’re making jokes…
“We best have him prepped before the Doc shows up or he’ll be taking off our legs,” the man said. “Put an ion ring on his thigh,” he instructed.
He felt her hands on his thigh, felt the ring go around, felt the pads of her fingers as she fumbled with the catch.
“Here?” she asked.
“Yes, like the other,” the man said. “The Ionizer will keep everything fluid so the admanium can meld.”
“The legs are ready made?” she asked.
“Yes, although it takes a while for the connections to format. Usually a week or so. We use that time for the reprogramming.” The man rattled the table and Dax heard the hum of a sonic saw.
Reprogramming? What did that mean?
The mechs…The mechs raided the Real. They took the men they captured. They were never heard from again after they disappeared into the Dome. Were they reprogrammed? Would reprogramming mean he would not be himself anymore? The mech’s certainly acted like machines, even though they were men. Or were they?
What were they doing?
“The Ionizer will also help cut down on the blood loss,” the man said.
Dax knew what was coming. If only they knew he could still feel. How could they not know? Or maybe they just didn’t care. He wanted to scream, kick, yell, anything to get their attention. He couldn’t even grit his teeth against the coming pain. Nausea rolled through his stomach and it occurred to him that he would probably puke and then choke on it.
T
hat would be better. Better to be dead than reprogrammed.
But dead meant leaving Merritt…He must find Merritt.
Pain more agonizing than he could imagine tore through his leg. The sonic blade connected with the tissue and it cut through, slowly, severing blood vessels, muscle, and bone. The hum grew louder as it descended into the bone.
God…I’m dying… There was nothing he could do. His body screamed with every molecule yet he was silent and unmoving. Dax felt his eyes well and then tears tracked down his face. Merritt…
How could they not know?
The noise from the sonic blade died away but the pain remained.
“Turn on the ion ring,” the man said. The woman must have complied because the pain suddenly faded away.
He could not even swallow back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.
“What will you do with his leg?” the woman asked.
“Throw it in the incinerator,” the man replied. “It’s of no use to anyone now.”
He was nothing to them. A project. A learning experience. Dax wanted to see their faces. He wanted to remember them, before he was “reprogrammed”. He wanted to know his torturers because knowledge would fuel his hatred, hatred that gathered in the pit of his stomach and fed off the acid of his pain.
He heard the woosh of a door opening, heard a thump, and realized that it was his leg, gone to vapor, just like the other one. Another door opened.
“Has the subject been prepped?” another man’s voice said.
“Yes sir,” the first man replied. “His legs are ready. I left the rest for you.”
“Who is this?” the man asked.
“I’m Coral sir,” the woman said.
“Nice to meet you Coral,” the second man replied is a voice that implied something more than work.
If he could have rolled his eyes he would have. He was nothing to them. Nothing but a slab on a table to be talked over while whoever was in charge tried to connect with the woman who was probably more than willing. And the other guy watched.
He heard a table move and shadows moved between the light and his eyes. Dax tried to focus. He wanted to remember them.
“Now let’s try not to get these one backwards,” the second man said and the other two laughed. Dax felt heat on his thighs as the second man talked. “This softens the structure,” the man explained,” and enables the bonding. A tingling moved up his nerve endings into his spine. “Complete melding of the tissue, vessels, and nerves,” the man went on. “Amazing. It still astounds me, every time I see it. Of course it takes a while for it to sustain the density of the bone. It even takes on the genetic code so he’ll be the same height as before.”
“Can that be changed Doctor Everts?” the woman asked. So he was a Doctor. Did that justify what he was doing?
“There was some testing done with that some years back,” Everts replied. “But it was all destroyed in the great fire. All lost.”
“I remember that,” the first man said. “It was a great tragedy. Didn’t the head scientist die in that fire?”
“Yes,” Everts said. “Simskin please.”
Dax heard a sound like paper being torn.
“He didn’t back up his work. He was paranoid that way,” Everts continued as Dax felt a pinching around his thigh. “So not only was he lost, but all his work. No one has been able to replicate it.”
“What a shame,” the woman said. “That’s amazing. It looks so real.”
“Unfortunately it’s unable to grow hair,” Everts said.
“It’s not as if he needs it,” the first man said.
“True,” Everts said. “But it makes it unpractical for youth enhancement as if it’s almost too perfect. There’s no color change or glow that would be natural on a face.”
“As in no one wants anyone to know they had work done,” the woman said.
“Exactly,” Everts agreed. Dax felt the pinching again on his other thigh. “The sim skin will meld over the admanium and in a weeks time he’ll be good as new.” Dax heard the clatter of instruments. “Now for the reprogramming.”
The light disappeared again as the Doctor’s head came between Dax and the light. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?” the woman asked.
“Where you two idiots not aware that he is conscious?” A face hovered over his, close enough that they were almost nose to nose.
Remember this…Remember…
“I did a reaction test,” the first man said.
“There’s a difference you moron,” Everts exclaimed. “Look at his eyes.”
Another face appeared before Dax. He gathered in the details as best he could, square jaw, light brown hair cut extremely short. Small brown eyes, thin lips and an upturned nose.
Remember him…
“Unconscious men don’t cry,” Everts said. “Those are tears. The med techs paralyzed him for transport. It was up to you to put him out.”
“Do you mean he felt everything?” the woman asked.
“He felt everything and he heard everything,” Everts said angrily. “Poor bastard,” he added.
Thank you so much, Dax said silently. I’ll remember that when I kill all of you.
Dax heard the noise of a drill.
“Will somebody put this guy out of his misery?” Everts said impatiently. Dax felt a sting in his arm and the light began to fade.
It still was not black when he felt the drill go into his temple.
<>
“*blip* 14:29/09/09/2202 Dallas Five-five on line. Acknowledge. *blip*” The symbols trailed across the plastigrid that covered his eyes. Pain shot through his temples and he gave his head a quick shake as he tried to focus on the words.
“*blip* Acknowledge. *blip*” the voice repeated.
“Accepted,” he replied.
“Five-five respond to my command,” the man before him said.
He turned his head to look at the voice. It belonged to a man in uniform who stood before a table containing a holi-vid and keyboard. A simkey was inserted in the man’s temple and it glowed with a green light. His scanner moved and the identity moved across his screen. Baker. Techno. Dallas Squadron. “Acknowledge,” he said.
“Stand,” Baker said.
“Accepted,” he said and stood.
“Walk to me,” Baker said.
He looked down at his legs. He was conscious of the fact that he was nude except for the visor that went across his eyes and was somehow connected to his head at the temples. He wanted to reach up and touch his head. He felt a strange pressure around his skull He moved his hands and stared down at them. He turned them over, palms up.
There was something missing.
“*blip* Acknowledge walk to me. *blip*
His head snapped up. “Accepted,” he said and walked to Baker.
“I’m guessing your momma thought you were stubborn Five-five,” Baker said. “We’ll have to make a few adjustments to your programming.”
Five-five stared at Baker. He needed a definition of the word “momma” but none was forthcoming so he waited.
A pain shot through his temple but he made no move in response to it. He was incapable of it.
“That should do it,” Baker said. “Get dressed Five-five.”
“Accepted,” he said and walked to the clothing that lay on a table.
Just a side note. I loved the *blips* Will have to find a way to use them someday.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Wicked Words
Working on edits for an erotic ghost romance forces me to think (again) about the language of erotic fiction. The publisher of this story specializes in “graphic” love scenes. To me, “graphic” means lots of detail in both actions and sensations. The publisher, however, mandates that “graphic” also has to include a copious helping of the words formerly labeled “unprintable.” My ideas of explicit sex in literature were formed by FANNY HILL, which produces a lavishly erotic effect with extensive, concrete descriptions of every detail of Fanny’s dalliances but without a single “four-letter” word.
C. S. Lewis wrote an essay about the difference between drawing a nude human figure and describing it verbally. The verbal treatment presents a problem the visual art doesn’t. We have to choose among medical language (e.g., “vulva”), archaism (e.g., “quim”), baby talk (e.g., “pee-pee”), or slang and obscenity (fill in the blank). Lewis doesn’t mention the other alternative, euphemisms (“private parts,” “down there”) and flowery metaphors. Any choice requires us, as Lewis puts it, to adopt an “attitude” toward the subject. We have no neutral term like “nose” or “hand” for the genitals.
One problem I see in peppering love scenes with the words formerly considered unprintable is that reactions to them are so individually variable. One reader’s titillatingly naughty term may be the next reader’s disgusting obscenity. Or certain words may strike some people as silly rather than sexy. I’ve sometimes discovered that “four-letter” words I actually do find sassy and sexy are on the publisher’s banned list. I’ve tried figures of speech that the editor has overruled as ridiculous. Any author who doesn’t keep the bedroom door altogether shut has to face these choices. My compromise, so far, is to allow my characters—if it’s in character for them—to include in their dialogue words I would never speak in real life but which the publisher says our readers like.
Margaret L. Carter (www.margaretlcarter.com)
C. S. Lewis wrote an essay about the difference between drawing a nude human figure and describing it verbally. The verbal treatment presents a problem the visual art doesn’t. We have to choose among medical language (e.g., “vulva”), archaism (e.g., “quim”), baby talk (e.g., “pee-pee”), or slang and obscenity (fill in the blank). Lewis doesn’t mention the other alternative, euphemisms (“private parts,” “down there”) and flowery metaphors. Any choice requires us, as Lewis puts it, to adopt an “attitude” toward the subject. We have no neutral term like “nose” or “hand” for the genitals.
One problem I see in peppering love scenes with the words formerly considered unprintable is that reactions to them are so individually variable. One reader’s titillatingly naughty term may be the next reader’s disgusting obscenity. Or certain words may strike some people as silly rather than sexy. I’ve sometimes discovered that “four-letter” words I actually do find sassy and sexy are on the publisher’s banned list. I’ve tried figures of speech that the editor has overruled as ridiculous. Any author who doesn’t keep the bedroom door altogether shut has to face these choices. My compromise, so far, is to allow my characters—if it’s in character for them—to include in their dialogue words I would never speak in real life but which the publisher says our readers like.
Margaret L. Carter (www.margaretlcarter.com)
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
The Crumbling Business Model of Writers
This is a lesson on the business of writing in our everyday world (very much the topic , but contributes much to Colby Hodge's discourse on When A Story Doesn't Work, and how the craft of writing blends into the Business of Writing
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-story-doesnt-work-part-two.html
as well as the issue of "worldbuilding" of a fictional world, and also references the Expository Lump problem writers face. Oh, this is a long post covering a lot of territory.
And the point of all this rambling and muttering over many, many posts here focusing on the real world (on a blog about Alien Romance) is to gather the necessary data to figure out why Romance in general and Alien Romance in particular is not regarded with the respect we feel it should garner and what we can do about that.
We all love our fiction, but few readers, game players, movie goers, video-watchers -- i.e. fiction consumers -- still think in terms of how the creators of their entertainment can make a living good enough to keep on producing top notch entertainment.
As I discussed last week
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
(where I beg you to go read the comments that correct a mis-statement on my part!)
the business model of most industrial revolution businesses is busted, and some new thing is coalescing out of the shards of our civilization's economy.
Those who properly divine what that new thing is, how it works, why it works, will be making the new founding fortunes of this century and probably the next. Very few have yet figured out just how profound the shattering of the foundations of our economy is at this moment.
But one SF writer may have a grip on explaining it. C. J. Cherryh.
C. J. Cherryh's marvelous SF novels (with a good dash of alien romance) showcase her talents at their best in her FOREIGNER series. The latest is CONSPIRATOR, and it's book #10 which will likely be the first of another trilogy in the series. Series composed of trilogies seem to be all the rage again.
Read those 10 novels (preferably in order) just for the sheer pleasure of a good story -- a refreshing joy to read such a well written, good story about what I like to read about (smart people caught in impossible predicaments, plights, and stymied by cognitive dissonance).
Put in perspective, those 10 novels give you a vision of our own society from the point of view of the anthropologist. It works better than studying anthroplogy in college courses though - because it is the application of the basic principles of the interface between science, technology, and culture to a Situation (Cherryh is the best in the biz at Situation).
The world C. J. Cherryh is working with is a human colony isolated on the world of the Atevi. Atevi are so similar to us, sex is possible, but "love" is a word that applies to a salad not a person. Atevi are driven by emotions about 45 degrees off the direction of human emotions. Not opposite, not at right angles, but skewed in a dizzying way.
Atevi are more herd creatures than humans are. But not really. They're just Alien.
It takes many novels to let Cherryh draw us into the mindset of these alien creatures. Cherryh is an expert at avoiding the expository lump, yet the narrative goes on and on about the multi-axis Atevi political situation. There's a little repetition, but it provides emphasis, points you might miss if you were skimming. While you're reading about what seems to be completely comprehensible politics, in fact boring politics, you're actually learning to look at reality from an alien point of view.
These long political analyses seem to be expository lumps, but they aren't. They move the story along quite briskly, setting up the action even in future novels. If you are following the anthropology and commentary on humanity, you see things beyond the politics.
Yes, it's an intellectual exercise, but that's what SF delivers as part of the pleasure.
In the FOREIGNER series, Cherryh has also recently introduced other aliens "out there" among the stars, and they're very likely to make their first visit to the Atevi homeworld too soon, so all the Atevi politics has to do with preparing for that eventuality. Meanwhile, the main character is a human whose job is to see to it that human technology does not destroy Atevi culture with potential world war as a result (the Atevi don't do "war" -- but they fight and assassinate a lot).
And here I go inserting exposition into this discourse on the Business Model of Writing.
See my blog post on expository lumps at:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/08/source-of-expository-lump.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/09/sexy-information-feed.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/02/dissing-formula-novel.html
Reading this 10th Foreigner novel right after writing last week's post about the massive shift in the "business model" that isn't confined to publishing, gave me a different take on just how dire this culture-quake we're in may become.
This week's news is once again about North Korea rattling atomic bombs at us, and all about the cooperation between North Korea and Iran and the arms race that's being unleashed into a ferment of cultural-warfare (which is what this whole Terrorist thing is about; the culture generated by certain religious outlooks). Meanwhile, the USA is facing the legalization of gay marriage which seems a dire and horrifyingly revolting change to some and pure justice to others. It's cultural change.
Cherryh starts CONSPIRATOR with the basic problem being a speech that Bren Cameron, our human POV character who is translator between human and atevi, has to write trying to stop the atevi from adopting cell phones.
The rest of the novel illustrates why the Atevi must adopt cell phones, and why they must not! It ends with the speech unwritten and undelivered. I expect that speech to be a roaring occasion for violence in the halls of the Atevi legislature.
Today's multi-function cell phones are web-access instruments, wireless windows on everywhere. The newest features give you direct access to facebook, twitter, and other social networking tools.
So when you talk cell phone, you talk Web 2.0 -- which means you're talking about the force that is pulverizing the industrial revolution business model, bureaucracy and even democracy itself -- certainly pulverizing capitalism! Perhaps destroying our cultures even more traumatically than the human technology leaks are destroying Atevi culture.
Pulverizing our culture just as a sound wave pulverizes kidney stones.
Most Americans don't even know what culture is. Can you point to your culture? Which pocket do you carry it in? What ringtones have you downloaded into your culture?
We have the TV Show REAPER where parents sold their son's soul to the Devil -- and this season ends with the boy's girlfriend selling her soul to the Devil on the chance of getting her boyfriend's soul free.
A whole, very successful TV show about the SOUL - but can you point to your soul?
It's like "air" was say, a thousand years ago. You don't know it's there because you live in it. It took science a long time (and a lot of computers and satelites) to get a model of weather that's almost working! It's hard to study something you're inside of.
The book I best like for conveying a concept of "what" your culture is, so you can look inside yourself and find it (trust me; it's there somewhere) is
But like souls and air, you miss your culture only when it's GONE.
So we all know the term culture-shock but most Americans who have never lived isolated abroad (with no American community and no one who even speaks British English around) simply don't know what "a" culture is, nevermind their own.
And that's why alarm has not been more pervasive in the USA as our culture crumbles. We don't know it's there, can find no use for it or value to it, and we just don't care.
But we should. Global Warming is nothing compared to this.
You can barely see the cracks in the foundations of our culture yet, but one of those cracks is the downfall of our huge 19th and 20th century corporations. General Motors going bankrupt practically on the 100th anniversary is just one example of failed business model, a surface crack caused by a movement in the foundation underneath our CULTURE.
And C. J. Cherryh has explained what's happening today in an SF novel ostensibly about alien politics, the 10th in a series. Yes, you can read it as the first novel you read in the Foreigner universe, but I've been reading them in order as published, and I see bits and pieces of information I'm using that I picked up in each of the previous novels.
The whole set of 10 Foreigner novels makes this image of our culture under attack by our technology so clear.
Start with the first in the series here:
Now let's skip all the way back into "reality" -- and refer to the series of posts I've done here on Web 2.0 (read them in the following order if you haven't already)
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-love-web-20.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/02/blogging-and-reading-and-blogging-oh-my.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/03/beauty-and-beast-constructing-hea.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-cb-radio-come-on-back.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/writing-tips-tweets.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/urban-fantasy-job-hunting.html
You see? All this is adding up to something, and giving you a view of the gears-and-chips inside the writer's mind.
This is how a writer thinks, and what a writer has to think with, the reasoning laid out like a beginning Algebra student has to write out each step of the solution to a problem with liberal application of imagination.
So far as I know, only a few SF writers have twigged to what is going on beneath our feet, in the vast unconscious of the human species, because of technology.
In past posts and in my review column
http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/
I've surveyed the trend toward depicing "reality" as a thin film over a seething cauldron of EVIL. That portrayal of the world is so popular now, you can barely sell anything that doesn't express that philosophy.
Here, in an article in Wired magazine, you may find the reason WHY you can't sell any other kind of fiction lately -- or when you do, it plays to a very narrow audience that leaps for joy over it because it's such a wonderful breath of fresh air.
http://www.wired.com/culture/culturereviews/magazine/17-06/nep_newsocialism
My previous post on Wired can be found here:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/04/wired-magazine-for-romance.html
The social networking and Web 2.0 developments I have been talking about in the above linked posts are barely the tip of the iceburg.
The banner headline for this article in Wired says:
----------------
THE NEW SOCIALISM: Wikipedia, Flickr, and Twitter aren't just revolutions in online social media. They're the vanguard of a cultural movement. Forget about state ownership and five-year-plans. A global collectivist society is coming -- and this time you're going to like it.
----------------
Frankly, I'm not so sure about the "like it" part which may just be the "slant" of this particular magazine. But this article fingers something very important about what's happening, and C. J. Cherryh's latest novel, CONSPIRATOR, describes that very thing from an alien perspective which makes it more comprehensible (as Spock added the alien POV to Star Trek and let us see ourselves from the outside).
But if the panicing Chinese (and other country's) attempts to "block the internet" -- to dictate what Google links will or will not work if you're inside their blackout curtain -- definitely bespeaks a deeply spooked humanity.
This Web 2.0 development may be even worse for humanity than Cherryh depicts it is likely to be for the Atevi. (oh, I do wish everyone had read the whole Foreigner series to date! This is all part of the STAR TREK discussion I haven't gotten to yet.)
The A-bomb proliferation race breaking out may just be part of this sense of panic set off by the forces described in this article in Wired (you can read it free online).
The totalitarian governments have the knee-jerk response of trying to "control" these new technologies, keeping them away from the poor peasants who would use them to overthrow centralized government control. Control is of course absolutely necessary. Humans can't exist without our betters controlling us. We all know that.
Why just look at the mess in society because we gave up the arranged marriage. Control is necessary, you see, and everything is getting out of control!
I don't know where to start telling you about this article "The New Socialism" in Wired Magazine. Every three or four paragraphs I put a post-it note onto the text to remind me to quote it at you, but this little essay is already too long.
The article quotes a book, HERE COMES EVERYBODY by Clay Shirky, from which the article takes a 4-part division to help sort through the effects of social media.
It targets work, how you get paid for what you contribute, and how people get access to what you've created with your work.
It doesn't harp nearly enough on the cultural aspects of the changes in these economic foundations of society. (A culture and a Society are not the same thing. Different societies can share a culture and do just fine relating to each other. What's happening because of Web 2.0 is that the cultures themselves are being pulverized.)
The culture generates the economy (think about Moslem law being the foundation of their banking system -- it seems to be working for them). The economy generates a zillion societies. Take a "society" to be just a group of people who agree on a certain set of laws -- like driving on the right, not having a King but a President, protecting property rights of the individual from the government, rule of the majority strictly limited to protect the individual)
We're currently trying to extend our "social contract" to include healthcare for everyone. Corporations discovered it's economically advantageous to provide healthcare for workers -- they work more consistently and productively. So now "society" wants to model itself on corporations and declare a social profit to having everyone healthy. Do you see any holes in that, other than trying to pay for it?
Our culture says "be kind to the less fortunate" -- our society says, "health is a right not a privelege," and our economy says, "I'm dying!"
Where do writers fit in all this?
COPYRIGHT!!!!
That's right, copyright is dead. Really. It's been uninvented, and the law hasn't caught up with the CULTURAL VALUE CHANGE that has left the old industrial revolution values pulverized.
Quick, GOOGLE creative commons, and see what turns up. The Wired article sites Creative Commons and GNU licenses as the newly invented concept, (ethical platform) replacing copyright.
http://creativecommons.org/ is only the beginning of what you'll find. Check the Wiki entry, since this Wired article sites WIKI as an example of the new economy.
A whole new set of ethics underlies this new culture. I mean really pulverizing all the unconscious assumptions implanted in our cultures since the 1600's and the invention of the printing press and the business model of publishing (which didn't start as a for-profit business, you know. You have read Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's St. Germain series, particularly Borne in Blood - where St. Germain owns a printing business in Amsterdam, I think it is.)
In fact, the internet and the web are forces unleashed into our world that are as huge or maybe more huge than the printing press was in its time.
I've been on a number of panels at conventions about how evil the copyright laws are.
This article in Wired takes that to a whole new level.
The writer's business model is based on COPYRIGHT. Or it has been.
That business model is still functioning, but about as well as General Motors was functioning in say, 1990. Lehman Brothers did pretty well in the 1990's. They seized what appeared to be the new business model (securitizing home mortgages). It killed them.
These behemouths are corporations. Each individual writer is a corporation -- whether you incorporate or not (writers are legally allowed to incorporate and make their corporation the owner of their books. Several revisions of the law ago, this was the best deal you could get on your income taxes as a writer. That's why you see some books copyrighted by some corporation that almost sounds like the author's name.)
Alongside the writer's business model of the 1600's, we now see the business model described in this article in Wired as an application of a principle in the book "Here Comes Everybody" -- 1. Sharing, 2. Cooperation, 3. Collaboration, 4. Collectivism -- and this blog post is an example of the new business model. I'm writing. You're not paying me unless you link to this blog entry in a post of your own, mention it on some popular blog comment space, twitter it, digg it, I don't know what all.
Think about what I said about Alvin Toffler's book Future Shock in this post:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
The human brain can make only so much change in a lifetime, make only so many decisions in a day, -- we have a hard-wired physical limit.
Think about historically what happened to the American Slaves abducted from their slow-changing culture in Africa and then systematically stripped of their culture here, to break their Will so they'd make good workers. They borrowed, desperately preserved, and just plain invented a new culture. A few decades ago, the novel and TV miniseries ROOTS explained to a vast majority just what they'd lost and where to go to find it again. The result has been a black President of the United States (who couldn't be proud of that accomplishment!)
That black President though had a father whose parents and grandparents had not had their culture stripped from them.
Humans need that multi-generational cultural grounding. It is our strength.
The internet and the Web have riven our generations apart, like a hot knife through butter.
The young people today are starting to live in exactly the world "The New Socialism" by Christoph Neimann describes.
The older folk, and even not-so-older folk, RESIST. E-book readers, high-tech phones, twitter, (follow me on twitter http://twitter.com/JLichtenberg ) myspace, flickr.
The Google email spam sorting mechanism is a perfect example of the exact kind of "socialism" the article talks about. We, the people, decide what is and is not spam by our votes.
Now, why is it that I am so at home in this new world, while others my age don't even have a computer, nevermind social network memberships, RSS feed reader (I use Feed Demon), friendfeed and other aggregators. I'm using 2 different aggregators for Twitter and haven't found the one I really want, yet. I don't text much, but I would gladly if I were dragged away from my desk more. I text people's phones from my desktop instead.
Why? How is it that I DO ALL THIS? And blog too. There are so many people so much younger than I am who just don't.
Why am I undaunted by Web 2.0? Why do I feel that the advent of all this culture pulverizing tech is not at all disturbing? Why don't I resist it? What's different about me?
Three guesses, and the first two don't count!
I grew up in FANDOM!!!! I was in 7th grade when I wrote my first letter to the editor of an SF magazine, and they published it (with my snailmail address -- something that could never happen today; it was a much safer world back then).
My parents' mailbox became stuffed with dozens, then hundreds of letters from fans all over the USA. I had just learned to type, and I learned that in "fandom" typing was more intimate than handwriting, and if you didn't type a letter you had to explain for at least 3 paragraphs why your typer was broken.
That's a CULTURE. Fandom had it's own language (fanspeak) just as texting today has developed a condensed spelling shorthand.
In fandom, it was rude to address anyone, but especially someone older than you, by their last name. In fandom, culture demanded not only first names but NICKNAMES - fan names.
"fandom" is a kingdom, (fan = fanatic dom = domain as in Kingdom) floating amongst the real world, above it, interspersed with it, but having no fixed geographic location. The fannish calendar is divided into before and after Worldcon (which used to be Labor Day weekend, but now it too floats dates). Worldcon = World Science Fiction Convention. Most conventions (not CONFERENCES!!) have the infix "con" in them somewhere, if only by allusion.
I'm on a mailing List (an email List; an entire concept made obsolete by Web 2.0 but still existing and growing) for the Las Vegas SF fandom organizations. Recently a new member joined and a veteran Fan, Arnie Katz, sent the new member the following welcome message which may give you some idea of "what" fandom is (other than what you think it is if you joined after fandom moved online).
-----------FROM ARNIE KATZ on VegasSFAssociation@yahoogroups.com ----------------
I saw your premiere post on the VSFA listserv and thought I would drop you a note of welcome and introduction.
I'm not big on writing autobiographies, but let me attempt one so you at least know who is talking to you. I'm a 62-year-old professional writer and editor, married to Joyce Worley, also a professional writer and editor. I'm from New York, she comes from Missouri and we moved here in 1989. I've worked in a number of fields, including science fiction/fantasy, popular culture, collecting and collectibles, video and computer gaming, sports, adult and professional wrestling.
Joyce and I met in Fandom in the mid 1960's. She was a leading fan in St. Louis (she chaired a worldcon and got a Hugo nomination for her fanzine) and I was similarly well-known in New York. Hyndreds of pages of correspondence led to Joyce moving to New York and we got together pretty much upon her arrival.
Fandom is kind of a busman's holiday for us, as it is for many creative people. We're known for our writing and publishing for Fandom. I was chosen as the number one fan in the world in 2009 as well as the hobby's best writer.
Enough about me... Let me tell you a little about the entity that you have just encountered, Fandom.
Fandom arose in the late 1920's, born in the letter columns of the professional science fiction magazines. The people who filled those letter columns began writing to each other directly, easily done in an era in which such letters carried full addresses.
The first fanzines appeared around 1930 and the field quickly grew and evolved. The earliest fanzines were little more than blurbs for upcoming prozines. The hobby slowly progressed from a fixation on the stories and authors to an interest in discussing the idea contained in the stories. During the 1940's, that stretched to include ideas not derived from specific stories, but which seemed "scientifictional." By the early 1950's, though, Fandom embraced talking about anything under the sun, including personal experiences and Fandom itself. That's pretty much where the hobby is today.
The current incarnation of Las Vegas Fandom dates from 1989 and the formation of SNAFFU (Southern Nevada Area Fantasy Fiction Union), the city's formal, open SF club. SNAFFU (and Las Vegas Fandom) broke out of its isolation when they met Joyce and I. We introduced them to the like-minded folks around the world and Vegas Fandom has prospers ever since.
There are two other clubs in town, VSFA is by far the smallest, little more than a video-watching group. They're nice enough, but very mundane and pretty much uninterested in the creative side of Fandom. VSFA, through a cooperative arrangement among the three clubs, puts on the annual Halloween Party.
Las Vegrants is the largest fan group in town with two to three times as many members as the other two groups combined. It's an informal, invitation group that includes the city's top fans, many of whom are professional writers and editors.
I'm pretty much the answer man around here, so please feel free to ask any, and as many, questions as you may have about all this strangeness. To get you rolling, I'm including a copy of the second edition of THE TRUFAN'S ADVISOR, a little guide that I turned out a year or so ago. It should be fairly helpful.
Don't hesitate to contact me if there is anything I can do.
Faanishly,
Arnie Katz
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Over the years, I've welcomed many mundanes into fandom and I've had to teach them the inherent values of fandom which I learned in 7th grade and have lived ever since. If you read a fanzine, even if you paid for a hardcopy, you only paid for ink, printing and postage, and you owe a LoC (Letter of Comment). That's true of blog posts too -- you PAY for any post you find valuable by dropping a comment.
Barter is coin of the realm in fandom. You get something good - you give something. Your words, your coolie labor collating a fanzine (minding a website), your thoughts, your arguments, your publicizing a convention by mentioning it on big blogs, or as Arnie here above has offered, his ANSWERS for a neofan. Perhaps the best thing you can do for a blog you love is to "follow" it by RSS or subscribe because there are aggregators out there that position a blog in their search results according to how many subscribers it has.
So the coin of the realm has a new design, but the principle hasn't changed. As ever, coin of the realm today is your words, and your LoCs are more valued than you know until you've gotten one on something you wrote.
The LoC comment can be critical, lambasting the author for any number of errors or omissions, even typos -- but the praise garnered in LoCs is important too. Fanspeak has a name for that praise; egoboo -- a boost to the ego. It's food for the ego, and for the culture of fandom as a whole. Praise for one person's accomplishments feeds the ambition of others to contribute accomplishments. It's not boot-licking or toadying to praise a blog post or web page. It's contributing to the new Culture 2.0.
Perhaps the most important thing to understand about fandom is that it has no government, needs no government, but is not "ungoverned" -- it isn't an anarchy, but it can't tolerate "organization" as a top-down-management style except in small endeavors like, perhaps an ad hoc committee putting on a convention.
Now that Arnie has introduced you to fandom, go read that article in WIRED.
http://www.wired.com/culture/culturereviews/magazine/17-06/nep_newsocialism
If you understand fandom, and read this article -- you will see that this "new socialism" is actually not so new. It's not an 'ism. It's a 'dom. Webdom maybe.
If you understand C. J. Cherryh's FOREIGNER universe, the Atevi culture, and why human technology is such a threat, you will understand that the magnitude of the threat to our current world from this growing "The New Socialism" collectivist society is so pulverizing, and especially pulverizing to the business model writers have used since the 1600's.
NOW TO STAR TREK.
And no, I'm still not going to talk about the new movie or the script or acting or directing etc.
It's the IMPACT of Trek on our CULTURE.
Remember THE PRIME DIRECTIVE -- and then think about the Atevi.
Now look back on history and see how fandom, and our world has changed under the impact of Trek.
OK, Trek hit in the late 1960's, and the 1970's are famous for Women's Lib and of course the rise of Black Culture after Roots in 1977. In 1975 my non-fiction book STAR TREK LIVES! was published and blew the lid on Star Trek Fandom -- and fandom in general.
The Star Trek conventions were about getting together to meet the people you'd only snailmailed before -- to brainstorm ST fanzine stories, to tell stories, to buy and sell and exchange paper fanzines, and little by little, a track of programming was added (well attended but not the heart of the matter) where the stars of the TV show stood on stage and later signed autographs.
The ST cons were modeled after (and run by BNF's Big Name Fans) SF cons, but that proved to be non-scalable, so the structure gradually evolved to be big enough for the crowds.
So LITTLE ST Cons popped up, just for 'zines, costumes, how-to-run-a-con practice and so on.
Star Trek took the CULTURE of SF fandom and scaled it up, filling fanzines with more than just articles and as Arnie says "life and life in fandom." SF fandom used 'zines the way most people today use blogs, for the meta-conversation. But Star Trek fandom injected FICTION into the fanzines, and sold those zines for paper and postage only, no labor charge.
That's the model Christoph Neimann is describing in his article, calling it a "new socialism" -- but it's neither new nor socialism. It's FANDOM!!! Star Trek style.
Now back to the envelope subject of this whole series of blog posts that's probably bored away the entire readership of this co-blog.
HOW DO WE DO IT FOR SCIENCE FICTION ROMANCE????
We must study how culture evolved, (or as C. J. Cherryh said in CONSPIRATOR -- adjusted) to accomodate the new forms of communication.
Fandom evolved from the SF magazine readerships, readers meeting in micro-cons in New York. Star Trek fandom likewise started in and around New York.
What is going on now that has allowed SFR and PNRomance to get a toe-hold is e-books and e-media and Web 2.0 devices like http://www.goodreads.com .
What is happening in the world today, this whole pulverizing impact of social media on our culture could (it's not that big a stretch) be attributed to the success of STAR TREK, or perhaps more importantly of STAR TREK LIVES! a little Bantam paperback that went 8 printings in the 1970's.
The conventions and fanac (fan activity) surrounding Star Trek became public knowledge as the New York Times and other big papers picked up the hints in STAR TREK LIVES! about K/S and other exotic fiction experiments.
Star Trek itself went only 3 seasons then grew in syndication. The media execs wanted to repeat this "fandom" phenomenon, and thought they had it with SPACE 1999, which Trek fans sneered at and stayed away from though it was advertised as Star Trek fans will love it.
Likewise the original BATTLESTAR GALACTICA -- (not the remake which is Intimate Adventure
http://www.simegen.com/jl/intimateadventure.html and Ronald D. Moore has even said so
http://www.simegen.com/jl/intimateadventurecomments.html )
They tried and tried, and they just could not duplicate the appeal of Star Trek. But Trek fans took the K/S premise and "slashed" combos of characters in other shows and made fascinating reading in fanzines for shows that have absolutely no SF appeal.
We eventually got Star Trek films, new series, a few new series, and a hiatus, now a new Star Trek movie, with the one thing no fan would have gone for in 1990 - NEW SPOCK AND KIRK ACTORS.
That's the test of a classic role - when a succession of generations of actors play the role successfully, the role becomes bigger than any actor.
That's important to understand. It's vital. It means Hollywood has stopped excluding SF from the concept "classic." And that's happened gradually as SF and Fantasy movies have won Oscars (which was unthinkable before Trek).
Star Trek and Trek fandom broke down a wall in our world, and now Trek has spread to all levels of the ambient society and culture.
Don't forget, it was Trek fans in a university environment that basically invented the internet to play a video game from campus to campus. A Trek type video game.
Christoph Niemann goes on and on about the social networking and the internet changing our very economy, our entire concept of personal property is being changed.
Gene Roddenberry's concept of the Trek universe was that it had no MONEY - money wasn't used anymore, nor were pockets needed to carry money. People weren't hired to crew the Enterprise; they were volunteers. Honest, that was his concept and few have ever understood that.
So Star Trek spawned the Internet, and the older SF fandom which spawned ST fandom has now spawned what Niemann dubs "the new socialism" in Web 2.0 and social networking.
Any number of us on this blog have mentioned how disregarded readers of SF were in the 1950's and 1960's. Disparaged. Held in open contempt wouldn't be too strong a wording for the attitude we endured for liking science fiction. Fantasy was even worse.
Then came Star Trek. It got cancelled because it was science fiction. (really, the network execs who made the decision didn't care about the tons of fan mail -- they just didn't like the show. That's it.)
So "we" fans organized in just the way Niemann describes what he thinks is a new cultural form, and we beat Hollywood to its knees and produced this new Star Trek film which has been given rave reviews and a HUGE amount of space in Variety, the NYTimes, Wired Magazine, Time, Newsweek, Business Week -- you name it. Talk about prestige.
WE WON! We fought for decades. We used the oldest tool in the fannish arsenal, FANDOM ITSELF, its strange organization, its unique way of using words, its intrinsic value system and economy of sharing -- most especially fueled by the LoC.
And we won.
Science Fiction and Fantasy are now mainstream.
How did that happen?
Star Trek -- Wagon Train To The Stars. (based on the incredibly long running TV show that everyone watched Wagon Train).
Star Trek, OK nobody else will ever notice this is true, because it took 40 years and everyone's forgotten everything about that long-ago time -- none of the salient facts of how this happened have ever been recorded for posterity because Star Trek and SF in general was not important.
Star Trek provided the pivot point in history, the inflection point, the "place to stand" and eventually with the films, books, and fanzines, provided the "lever long enough" and we changed the world into the vision Niemann is talking about in Wired.
These people who are inventing Web 2.0 devices, un-inventing copyright and all the industrial complex business models, in fact uninventing currency itself, these people are the descendents barely 2 generations removed from those who envisioned the future world of Star Trek.
The impact of Star Trek is just beginning to be felt (will never be identified officially, I'm sure) in the pulverization of our culture and our society and our business models. But we can take a lesson from all this.
The world was inimical to the SF fan. SF fans flocked to the first real SF on TV. We changed the world to be friendly to SF and SF fans.
The world is inimical to Romance. Romance fans need a vehicle to flock to. Then we will change the world.
The vehicle SF fans flocked to was a TV show, because at that time about a third of all the adults in the USA watched TV. There were 3 networks. What else was there to do in the evening but listen to the radio which didn't have any good shows anymore.
The vehicle Romance fans need has got to be Web 2.0 based.
Look at the numbers and websites with numbers that I talked about last week
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
Nobody watched TV anymore. And the TV watching public is graying fast. Any TV watching younger people do is on the web.
The web as a fiction delivery system is burgeoning, and copyright and other business model elements from the 1600's to the 1900's only strangle that burgeoning growth.
We're having our economy shattered by the new business models, uninventing money and labor for a wage, etc.
Do we, as Romance readers, writers and fans, do we seriously want to add a shattering effect from Romance, which is our fundamental life's relationship to this deadly mixture?
Or do we, as Romance readers, writers and fans, bear an obligation to produce that Romance vehicle that will draw us together to become a Web 2.0 force, (and Web 3.0 is already in launch mode!) to provide the SOLUTION to the pulverizing, culture shattering, social fabric ripping effects of the loss of copyright?
Which is it? Tell me by commenting on this post that's longer than a chapter in a long book!
If you got all the way to the end of this post and have any idea what I'm talking about, you owe me a LoC according to Christoph Niemann.
Live Long and Prosper,
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-story-doesnt-work-part-two.html
as well as the issue of "worldbuilding" of a fictional world, and also references the Expository Lump problem writers face. Oh, this is a long post covering a lot of territory.
And the point of all this rambling and muttering over many, many posts here focusing on the real world (on a blog about Alien Romance) is to gather the necessary data to figure out why Romance in general and Alien Romance in particular is not regarded with the respect we feel it should garner and what we can do about that.
We all love our fiction, but few readers, game players, movie goers, video-watchers -- i.e. fiction consumers -- still think in terms of how the creators of their entertainment can make a living good enough to keep on producing top notch entertainment.
As I discussed last week
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
(where I beg you to go read the comments that correct a mis-statement on my part!)
the business model of most industrial revolution businesses is busted, and some new thing is coalescing out of the shards of our civilization's economy.
Those who properly divine what that new thing is, how it works, why it works, will be making the new founding fortunes of this century and probably the next. Very few have yet figured out just how profound the shattering of the foundations of our economy is at this moment.
But one SF writer may have a grip on explaining it. C. J. Cherryh.
C. J. Cherryh's marvelous SF novels (with a good dash of alien romance) showcase her talents at their best in her FOREIGNER series. The latest is CONSPIRATOR, and it's book #10 which will likely be the first of another trilogy in the series. Series composed of trilogies seem to be all the rage again.
Read those 10 novels (preferably in order) just for the sheer pleasure of a good story -- a refreshing joy to read such a well written, good story about what I like to read about (smart people caught in impossible predicaments, plights, and stymied by cognitive dissonance).
Put in perspective, those 10 novels give you a vision of our own society from the point of view of the anthropologist. It works better than studying anthroplogy in college courses though - because it is the application of the basic principles of the interface between science, technology, and culture to a Situation (Cherryh is the best in the biz at Situation).
The world C. J. Cherryh is working with is a human colony isolated on the world of the Atevi. Atevi are so similar to us, sex is possible, but "love" is a word that applies to a salad not a person. Atevi are driven by emotions about 45 degrees off the direction of human emotions. Not opposite, not at right angles, but skewed in a dizzying way.
Atevi are more herd creatures than humans are. But not really. They're just Alien.
It takes many novels to let Cherryh draw us into the mindset of these alien creatures. Cherryh is an expert at avoiding the expository lump, yet the narrative goes on and on about the multi-axis Atevi political situation. There's a little repetition, but it provides emphasis, points you might miss if you were skimming. While you're reading about what seems to be completely comprehensible politics, in fact boring politics, you're actually learning to look at reality from an alien point of view.
These long political analyses seem to be expository lumps, but they aren't. They move the story along quite briskly, setting up the action even in future novels. If you are following the anthropology and commentary on humanity, you see things beyond the politics.
Yes, it's an intellectual exercise, but that's what SF delivers as part of the pleasure.
In the FOREIGNER series, Cherryh has also recently introduced other aliens "out there" among the stars, and they're very likely to make their first visit to the Atevi homeworld too soon, so all the Atevi politics has to do with preparing for that eventuality. Meanwhile, the main character is a human whose job is to see to it that human technology does not destroy Atevi culture with potential world war as a result (the Atevi don't do "war" -- but they fight and assassinate a lot).
And here I go inserting exposition into this discourse on the Business Model of Writing.
See my blog post on expository lumps at:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/08/source-of-expository-lump.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/09/sexy-information-feed.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/02/dissing-formula-novel.html
Reading this 10th Foreigner novel right after writing last week's post about the massive shift in the "business model" that isn't confined to publishing, gave me a different take on just how dire this culture-quake we're in may become.
This week's news is once again about North Korea rattling atomic bombs at us, and all about the cooperation between North Korea and Iran and the arms race that's being unleashed into a ferment of cultural-warfare (which is what this whole Terrorist thing is about; the culture generated by certain religious outlooks). Meanwhile, the USA is facing the legalization of gay marriage which seems a dire and horrifyingly revolting change to some and pure justice to others. It's cultural change.
Cherryh starts CONSPIRATOR with the basic problem being a speech that Bren Cameron, our human POV character who is translator between human and atevi, has to write trying to stop the atevi from adopting cell phones.
The rest of the novel illustrates why the Atevi must adopt cell phones, and why they must not! It ends with the speech unwritten and undelivered. I expect that speech to be a roaring occasion for violence in the halls of the Atevi legislature.
Today's multi-function cell phones are web-access instruments, wireless windows on everywhere. The newest features give you direct access to facebook, twitter, and other social networking tools.
So when you talk cell phone, you talk Web 2.0 -- which means you're talking about the force that is pulverizing the industrial revolution business model, bureaucracy and even democracy itself -- certainly pulverizing capitalism! Perhaps destroying our cultures even more traumatically than the human technology leaks are destroying Atevi culture.
Pulverizing our culture just as a sound wave pulverizes kidney stones.
Most Americans don't even know what culture is. Can you point to your culture? Which pocket do you carry it in? What ringtones have you downloaded into your culture?
We have the TV Show REAPER where parents sold their son's soul to the Devil -- and this season ends with the boy's girlfriend selling her soul to the Devil on the chance of getting her boyfriend's soul free.
A whole, very successful TV show about the SOUL - but can you point to your soul?
It's like "air" was say, a thousand years ago. You don't know it's there because you live in it. It took science a long time (and a lot of computers and satelites) to get a model of weather that's almost working! It's hard to study something you're inside of.
The book I best like for conveying a concept of "what" your culture is, so you can look inside yourself and find it (trust me; it's there somewhere) is
But like souls and air, you miss your culture only when it's GONE.
So we all know the term culture-shock but most Americans who have never lived isolated abroad (with no American community and no one who even speaks British English around) simply don't know what "a" culture is, nevermind their own.
And that's why alarm has not been more pervasive in the USA as our culture crumbles. We don't know it's there, can find no use for it or value to it, and we just don't care.
But we should. Global Warming is nothing compared to this.
You can barely see the cracks in the foundations of our culture yet, but one of those cracks is the downfall of our huge 19th and 20th century corporations. General Motors going bankrupt practically on the 100th anniversary is just one example of failed business model, a surface crack caused by a movement in the foundation underneath our CULTURE.
And C. J. Cherryh has explained what's happening today in an SF novel ostensibly about alien politics, the 10th in a series. Yes, you can read it as the first novel you read in the Foreigner universe, but I've been reading them in order as published, and I see bits and pieces of information I'm using that I picked up in each of the previous novels.
The whole set of 10 Foreigner novels makes this image of our culture under attack by our technology so clear.
Start with the first in the series here:
Now let's skip all the way back into "reality" -- and refer to the series of posts I've done here on Web 2.0 (read them in the following order if you haven't already)
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-love-web-20.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/02/blogging-and-reading-and-blogging-oh-my.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/03/beauty-and-beast-constructing-hea.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-cb-radio-come-on-back.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/writing-tips-tweets.html
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/urban-fantasy-job-hunting.html
You see? All this is adding up to something, and giving you a view of the gears-and-chips inside the writer's mind.
This is how a writer thinks, and what a writer has to think with, the reasoning laid out like a beginning Algebra student has to write out each step of the solution to a problem with liberal application of imagination.
So far as I know, only a few SF writers have twigged to what is going on beneath our feet, in the vast unconscious of the human species, because of technology.
In past posts and in my review column
http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/
I've surveyed the trend toward depicing "reality" as a thin film over a seething cauldron of EVIL. That portrayal of the world is so popular now, you can barely sell anything that doesn't express that philosophy.
Here, in an article in Wired magazine, you may find the reason WHY you can't sell any other kind of fiction lately -- or when you do, it plays to a very narrow audience that leaps for joy over it because it's such a wonderful breath of fresh air.
http://www.wired.com/culture/culturereviews/magazine/17-06/nep_newsocialism
My previous post on Wired can be found here:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/04/wired-magazine-for-romance.html
The social networking and Web 2.0 developments I have been talking about in the above linked posts are barely the tip of the iceburg.
The banner headline for this article in Wired says:
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THE NEW SOCIALISM: Wikipedia, Flickr, and Twitter aren't just revolutions in online social media. They're the vanguard of a cultural movement. Forget about state ownership and five-year-plans. A global collectivist society is coming -- and this time you're going to like it.
----------------
Frankly, I'm not so sure about the "like it" part which may just be the "slant" of this particular magazine. But this article fingers something very important about what's happening, and C. J. Cherryh's latest novel, CONSPIRATOR, describes that very thing from an alien perspective which makes it more comprehensible (as Spock added the alien POV to Star Trek and let us see ourselves from the outside).
But if the panicing Chinese (and other country's) attempts to "block the internet" -- to dictate what Google links will or will not work if you're inside their blackout curtain -- definitely bespeaks a deeply spooked humanity.
This Web 2.0 development may be even worse for humanity than Cherryh depicts it is likely to be for the Atevi. (oh, I do wish everyone had read the whole Foreigner series to date! This is all part of the STAR TREK discussion I haven't gotten to yet.)
The A-bomb proliferation race breaking out may just be part of this sense of panic set off by the forces described in this article in Wired (you can read it free online).
The totalitarian governments have the knee-jerk response of trying to "control" these new technologies, keeping them away from the poor peasants who would use them to overthrow centralized government control. Control is of course absolutely necessary. Humans can't exist without our betters controlling us. We all know that.
Why just look at the mess in society because we gave up the arranged marriage. Control is necessary, you see, and everything is getting out of control!
I don't know where to start telling you about this article "The New Socialism" in Wired Magazine. Every three or four paragraphs I put a post-it note onto the text to remind me to quote it at you, but this little essay is already too long.
The article quotes a book, HERE COMES EVERYBODY by Clay Shirky, from which the article takes a 4-part division to help sort through the effects of social media.
It targets work, how you get paid for what you contribute, and how people get access to what you've created with your work.
It doesn't harp nearly enough on the cultural aspects of the changes in these economic foundations of society. (A culture and a Society are not the same thing. Different societies can share a culture and do just fine relating to each other. What's happening because of Web 2.0 is that the cultures themselves are being pulverized.)
The culture generates the economy (think about Moslem law being the foundation of their banking system -- it seems to be working for them). The economy generates a zillion societies. Take a "society" to be just a group of people who agree on a certain set of laws -- like driving on the right, not having a King but a President, protecting property rights of the individual from the government, rule of the majority strictly limited to protect the individual)
We're currently trying to extend our "social contract" to include healthcare for everyone. Corporations discovered it's economically advantageous to provide healthcare for workers -- they work more consistently and productively. So now "society" wants to model itself on corporations and declare a social profit to having everyone healthy. Do you see any holes in that, other than trying to pay for it?
Our culture says "be kind to the less fortunate" -- our society says, "health is a right not a privelege," and our economy says, "I'm dying!"
Where do writers fit in all this?
COPYRIGHT!!!!
That's right, copyright is dead. Really. It's been uninvented, and the law hasn't caught up with the CULTURAL VALUE CHANGE that has left the old industrial revolution values pulverized.
Quick, GOOGLE creative commons, and see what turns up. The Wired article sites Creative Commons and GNU licenses as the newly invented concept, (ethical platform) replacing copyright.
http://creativecommons.org/ is only the beginning of what you'll find. Check the Wiki entry, since this Wired article sites WIKI as an example of the new economy.
A whole new set of ethics underlies this new culture. I mean really pulverizing all the unconscious assumptions implanted in our cultures since the 1600's and the invention of the printing press and the business model of publishing (which didn't start as a for-profit business, you know. You have read Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's St. Germain series, particularly Borne in Blood - where St. Germain owns a printing business in Amsterdam, I think it is.)
In fact, the internet and the web are forces unleashed into our world that are as huge or maybe more huge than the printing press was in its time.
I've been on a number of panels at conventions about how evil the copyright laws are.
This article in Wired takes that to a whole new level.
The writer's business model is based on COPYRIGHT. Or it has been.
That business model is still functioning, but about as well as General Motors was functioning in say, 1990. Lehman Brothers did pretty well in the 1990's. They seized what appeared to be the new business model (securitizing home mortgages). It killed them.
These behemouths are corporations. Each individual writer is a corporation -- whether you incorporate or not (writers are legally allowed to incorporate and make their corporation the owner of their books. Several revisions of the law ago, this was the best deal you could get on your income taxes as a writer. That's why you see some books copyrighted by some corporation that almost sounds like the author's name.)
Alongside the writer's business model of the 1600's, we now see the business model described in this article in Wired as an application of a principle in the book "Here Comes Everybody" -- 1. Sharing, 2. Cooperation, 3. Collaboration, 4. Collectivism -- and this blog post is an example of the new business model. I'm writing. You're not paying me unless you link to this blog entry in a post of your own, mention it on some popular blog comment space, twitter it, digg it, I don't know what all.
Think about what I said about Alvin Toffler's book Future Shock in this post:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
The human brain can make only so much change in a lifetime, make only so many decisions in a day, -- we have a hard-wired physical limit.
Think about historically what happened to the American Slaves abducted from their slow-changing culture in Africa and then systematically stripped of their culture here, to break their Will so they'd make good workers. They borrowed, desperately preserved, and just plain invented a new culture. A few decades ago, the novel and TV miniseries ROOTS explained to a vast majority just what they'd lost and where to go to find it again. The result has been a black President of the United States (who couldn't be proud of that accomplishment!)
That black President though had a father whose parents and grandparents had not had their culture stripped from them.
Humans need that multi-generational cultural grounding. It is our strength.
The internet and the Web have riven our generations apart, like a hot knife through butter.
The young people today are starting to live in exactly the world "The New Socialism" by Christoph Neimann describes.
The older folk, and even not-so-older folk, RESIST. E-book readers, high-tech phones, twitter, (follow me on twitter http://twitter.com/JLichtenberg ) myspace, flickr.
The Google email spam sorting mechanism is a perfect example of the exact kind of "socialism" the article talks about. We, the people, decide what is and is not spam by our votes.
Now, why is it that I am so at home in this new world, while others my age don't even have a computer, nevermind social network memberships, RSS feed reader (I use Feed Demon), friendfeed and other aggregators. I'm using 2 different aggregators for Twitter and haven't found the one I really want, yet. I don't text much, but I would gladly if I were dragged away from my desk more. I text people's phones from my desktop instead.
Why? How is it that I DO ALL THIS? And blog too. There are so many people so much younger than I am who just don't.
Why am I undaunted by Web 2.0? Why do I feel that the advent of all this culture pulverizing tech is not at all disturbing? Why don't I resist it? What's different about me?
Three guesses, and the first two don't count!
I grew up in FANDOM!!!! I was in 7th grade when I wrote my first letter to the editor of an SF magazine, and they published it (with my snailmail address -- something that could never happen today; it was a much safer world back then).
My parents' mailbox became stuffed with dozens, then hundreds of letters from fans all over the USA. I had just learned to type, and I learned that in "fandom" typing was more intimate than handwriting, and if you didn't type a letter you had to explain for at least 3 paragraphs why your typer was broken.
That's a CULTURE. Fandom had it's own language (fanspeak) just as texting today has developed a condensed spelling shorthand.
In fandom, it was rude to address anyone, but especially someone older than you, by their last name. In fandom, culture demanded not only first names but NICKNAMES - fan names.
"fandom" is a kingdom, (fan = fanatic dom = domain as in Kingdom) floating amongst the real world, above it, interspersed with it, but having no fixed geographic location. The fannish calendar is divided into before and after Worldcon (which used to be Labor Day weekend, but now it too floats dates). Worldcon = World Science Fiction Convention. Most conventions (not CONFERENCES!!) have the infix "con" in them somewhere, if only by allusion.
I'm on a mailing List (an email List; an entire concept made obsolete by Web 2.0 but still existing and growing) for the Las Vegas SF fandom organizations. Recently a new member joined and a veteran Fan, Arnie Katz, sent the new member the following welcome message which may give you some idea of "what" fandom is (other than what you think it is if you joined after fandom moved online).
-----------FROM ARNIE KATZ on VegasSFAssociation@yahoogroups.com ----------------
I saw your premiere post on the VSFA listserv and thought I would drop you a note of welcome and introduction.
I'm not big on writing autobiographies, but let me attempt one so you at least know who is talking to you. I'm a 62-year-old professional writer and editor, married to Joyce Worley, also a professional writer and editor. I'm from New York, she comes from Missouri and we moved here in 1989. I've worked in a number of fields, including science fiction/fantasy, popular culture, collecting and collectibles, video and computer gaming, sports, adult and professional wrestling.
Joyce and I met in Fandom in the mid 1960's. She was a leading fan in St. Louis (she chaired a worldcon and got a Hugo nomination for her fanzine) and I was similarly well-known in New York. Hyndreds of pages of correspondence led to Joyce moving to New York and we got together pretty much upon her arrival.
Fandom is kind of a busman's holiday for us, as it is for many creative people. We're known for our writing and publishing for Fandom. I was chosen as the number one fan in the world in 2009 as well as the hobby's best writer.
Enough about me... Let me tell you a little about the entity that you have just encountered, Fandom.
Fandom arose in the late 1920's, born in the letter columns of the professional science fiction magazines. The people who filled those letter columns began writing to each other directly, easily done in an era in which such letters carried full addresses.
The first fanzines appeared around 1930 and the field quickly grew and evolved. The earliest fanzines were little more than blurbs for upcoming prozines. The hobby slowly progressed from a fixation on the stories and authors to an interest in discussing the idea contained in the stories. During the 1940's, that stretched to include ideas not derived from specific stories, but which seemed "scientifictional." By the early 1950's, though, Fandom embraced talking about anything under the sun, including personal experiences and Fandom itself. That's pretty much where the hobby is today.
The current incarnation of Las Vegas Fandom dates from 1989 and the formation of SNAFFU (Southern Nevada Area Fantasy Fiction Union), the city's formal, open SF club. SNAFFU (and Las Vegas Fandom) broke out of its isolation when they met Joyce and I. We introduced them to the like-minded folks around the world and Vegas Fandom has prospers ever since.
There are two other clubs in town, VSFA is by far the smallest, little more than a video-watching group. They're nice enough, but very mundane and pretty much uninterested in the creative side of Fandom. VSFA, through a cooperative arrangement among the three clubs, puts on the annual Halloween Party.
Las Vegrants is the largest fan group in town with two to three times as many members as the other two groups combined. It's an informal, invitation group that includes the city's top fans, many of whom are professional writers and editors.
I'm pretty much the answer man around here, so please feel free to ask any, and as many, questions as you may have about all this strangeness. To get you rolling, I'm including a copy of the second edition of THE TRUFAN'S ADVISOR, a little guide that I turned out a year or so ago. It should be fairly helpful.
Don't hesitate to contact me if there is anything I can do.
Faanishly,
Arnie Katz
----------------------------------
Over the years, I've welcomed many mundanes into fandom and I've had to teach them the inherent values of fandom which I learned in 7th grade and have lived ever since. If you read a fanzine, even if you paid for a hardcopy, you only paid for ink, printing and postage, and you owe a LoC (Letter of Comment). That's true of blog posts too -- you PAY for any post you find valuable by dropping a comment.
Barter is coin of the realm in fandom. You get something good - you give something. Your words, your coolie labor collating a fanzine (minding a website), your thoughts, your arguments, your publicizing a convention by mentioning it on big blogs, or as Arnie here above has offered, his ANSWERS for a neofan. Perhaps the best thing you can do for a blog you love is to "follow" it by RSS or subscribe because there are aggregators out there that position a blog in their search results according to how many subscribers it has.
So the coin of the realm has a new design, but the principle hasn't changed. As ever, coin of the realm today is your words, and your LoCs are more valued than you know until you've gotten one on something you wrote.
The LoC comment can be critical, lambasting the author for any number of errors or omissions, even typos -- but the praise garnered in LoCs is important too. Fanspeak has a name for that praise; egoboo -- a boost to the ego. It's food for the ego, and for the culture of fandom as a whole. Praise for one person's accomplishments feeds the ambition of others to contribute accomplishments. It's not boot-licking or toadying to praise a blog post or web page. It's contributing to the new Culture 2.0.
Perhaps the most important thing to understand about fandom is that it has no government, needs no government, but is not "ungoverned" -- it isn't an anarchy, but it can't tolerate "organization" as a top-down-management style except in small endeavors like, perhaps an ad hoc committee putting on a convention.
Now that Arnie has introduced you to fandom, go read that article in WIRED.
http://www.wired.com/culture/culturereviews/magazine/17-06/nep_newsocialism
If you understand fandom, and read this article -- you will see that this "new socialism" is actually not so new. It's not an 'ism. It's a 'dom. Webdom maybe.
If you understand C. J. Cherryh's FOREIGNER universe, the Atevi culture, and why human technology is such a threat, you will understand that the magnitude of the threat to our current world from this growing "The New Socialism" collectivist society is so pulverizing, and especially pulverizing to the business model writers have used since the 1600's.
NOW TO STAR TREK.
And no, I'm still not going to talk about the new movie or the script or acting or directing etc.
It's the IMPACT of Trek on our CULTURE.
Remember THE PRIME DIRECTIVE -- and then think about the Atevi.
Now look back on history and see how fandom, and our world has changed under the impact of Trek.
OK, Trek hit in the late 1960's, and the 1970's are famous for Women's Lib and of course the rise of Black Culture after Roots in 1977. In 1975 my non-fiction book STAR TREK LIVES! was published and blew the lid on Star Trek Fandom -- and fandom in general.
The Star Trek conventions were about getting together to meet the people you'd only snailmailed before -- to brainstorm ST fanzine stories, to tell stories, to buy and sell and exchange paper fanzines, and little by little, a track of programming was added (well attended but not the heart of the matter) where the stars of the TV show stood on stage and later signed autographs.
The ST cons were modeled after (and run by BNF's Big Name Fans) SF cons, but that proved to be non-scalable, so the structure gradually evolved to be big enough for the crowds.
So LITTLE ST Cons popped up, just for 'zines, costumes, how-to-run-a-con practice and so on.
Star Trek took the CULTURE of SF fandom and scaled it up, filling fanzines with more than just articles and as Arnie says "life and life in fandom." SF fandom used 'zines the way most people today use blogs, for the meta-conversation. But Star Trek fandom injected FICTION into the fanzines, and sold those zines for paper and postage only, no labor charge.
That's the model Christoph Neimann is describing in his article, calling it a "new socialism" -- but it's neither new nor socialism. It's FANDOM!!! Star Trek style.
Now back to the envelope subject of this whole series of blog posts that's probably bored away the entire readership of this co-blog.
HOW DO WE DO IT FOR SCIENCE FICTION ROMANCE????
We must study how culture evolved, (or as C. J. Cherryh said in CONSPIRATOR -- adjusted) to accomodate the new forms of communication.
Fandom evolved from the SF magazine readerships, readers meeting in micro-cons in New York. Star Trek fandom likewise started in and around New York.
What is going on now that has allowed SFR and PNRomance to get a toe-hold is e-books and e-media and Web 2.0 devices like http://www.goodreads.com .
What is happening in the world today, this whole pulverizing impact of social media on our culture could (it's not that big a stretch) be attributed to the success of STAR TREK, or perhaps more importantly of STAR TREK LIVES! a little Bantam paperback that went 8 printings in the 1970's.
The conventions and fanac (fan activity) surrounding Star Trek became public knowledge as the New York Times and other big papers picked up the hints in STAR TREK LIVES! about K/S and other exotic fiction experiments.
Star Trek itself went only 3 seasons then grew in syndication. The media execs wanted to repeat this "fandom" phenomenon, and thought they had it with SPACE 1999, which Trek fans sneered at and stayed away from though it was advertised as Star Trek fans will love it.
Likewise the original BATTLESTAR GALACTICA -- (not the remake which is Intimate Adventure
http://www.simegen.com/jl/intimateadventure.html and Ronald D. Moore has even said so
http://www.simegen.com/jl/intimateadventurecomments.html )
They tried and tried, and they just could not duplicate the appeal of Star Trek. But Trek fans took the K/S premise and "slashed" combos of characters in other shows and made fascinating reading in fanzines for shows that have absolutely no SF appeal.
We eventually got Star Trek films, new series, a few new series, and a hiatus, now a new Star Trek movie, with the one thing no fan would have gone for in 1990 - NEW SPOCK AND KIRK ACTORS.
That's the test of a classic role - when a succession of generations of actors play the role successfully, the role becomes bigger than any actor.
That's important to understand. It's vital. It means Hollywood has stopped excluding SF from the concept "classic." And that's happened gradually as SF and Fantasy movies have won Oscars (which was unthinkable before Trek).
Star Trek and Trek fandom broke down a wall in our world, and now Trek has spread to all levels of the ambient society and culture.
Don't forget, it was Trek fans in a university environment that basically invented the internet to play a video game from campus to campus. A Trek type video game.
Christoph Niemann goes on and on about the social networking and the internet changing our very economy, our entire concept of personal property is being changed.
Gene Roddenberry's concept of the Trek universe was that it had no MONEY - money wasn't used anymore, nor were pockets needed to carry money. People weren't hired to crew the Enterprise; they were volunteers. Honest, that was his concept and few have ever understood that.
So Star Trek spawned the Internet, and the older SF fandom which spawned ST fandom has now spawned what Niemann dubs "the new socialism" in Web 2.0 and social networking.
Any number of us on this blog have mentioned how disregarded readers of SF were in the 1950's and 1960's. Disparaged. Held in open contempt wouldn't be too strong a wording for the attitude we endured for liking science fiction. Fantasy was even worse.
Then came Star Trek. It got cancelled because it was science fiction. (really, the network execs who made the decision didn't care about the tons of fan mail -- they just didn't like the show. That's it.)
So "we" fans organized in just the way Niemann describes what he thinks is a new cultural form, and we beat Hollywood to its knees and produced this new Star Trek film which has been given rave reviews and a HUGE amount of space in Variety, the NYTimes, Wired Magazine, Time, Newsweek, Business Week -- you name it. Talk about prestige.
WE WON! We fought for decades. We used the oldest tool in the fannish arsenal, FANDOM ITSELF, its strange organization, its unique way of using words, its intrinsic value system and economy of sharing -- most especially fueled by the LoC.
And we won.
Science Fiction and Fantasy are now mainstream.
How did that happen?
Star Trek -- Wagon Train To The Stars. (based on the incredibly long running TV show that everyone watched Wagon Train).
Star Trek, OK nobody else will ever notice this is true, because it took 40 years and everyone's forgotten everything about that long-ago time -- none of the salient facts of how this happened have ever been recorded for posterity because Star Trek and SF in general was not important.
Star Trek provided the pivot point in history, the inflection point, the "place to stand" and eventually with the films, books, and fanzines, provided the "lever long enough" and we changed the world into the vision Niemann is talking about in Wired.
These people who are inventing Web 2.0 devices, un-inventing copyright and all the industrial complex business models, in fact uninventing currency itself, these people are the descendents barely 2 generations removed from those who envisioned the future world of Star Trek.
The impact of Star Trek is just beginning to be felt (will never be identified officially, I'm sure) in the pulverization of our culture and our society and our business models. But we can take a lesson from all this.
The world was inimical to the SF fan. SF fans flocked to the first real SF on TV. We changed the world to be friendly to SF and SF fans.
The world is inimical to Romance. Romance fans need a vehicle to flock to. Then we will change the world.
The vehicle SF fans flocked to was a TV show, because at that time about a third of all the adults in the USA watched TV. There were 3 networks. What else was there to do in the evening but listen to the radio which didn't have any good shows anymore.
The vehicle Romance fans need has got to be Web 2.0 based.
Look at the numbers and websites with numbers that I talked about last week
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/05/marketing-fiction-in-changing-world.html
Nobody watched TV anymore. And the TV watching public is graying fast. Any TV watching younger people do is on the web.
The web as a fiction delivery system is burgeoning, and copyright and other business model elements from the 1600's to the 1900's only strangle that burgeoning growth.
We're having our economy shattered by the new business models, uninventing money and labor for a wage, etc.
Do we, as Romance readers, writers and fans, do we seriously want to add a shattering effect from Romance, which is our fundamental life's relationship to this deadly mixture?
Or do we, as Romance readers, writers and fans, bear an obligation to produce that Romance vehicle that will draw us together to become a Web 2.0 force, (and Web 3.0 is already in launch mode!) to provide the SOLUTION to the pulverizing, culture shattering, social fabric ripping effects of the loss of copyright?
Which is it? Tell me by commenting on this post that's longer than a chapter in a long book!
If you got all the way to the end of this post and have any idea what I'm talking about, you owe me a LoC according to Christoph Niemann.
Live Long and Prosper,
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/
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