Influence and Inspiration

We all have our influences. Freud said that a person’s character is determined in their childhood, and that these early influences are inescapable. This is the reason for the Jesuit maxim: “give me a child for his first seven years, and I’ll give you the man”, writer or indeed cauliflower as may be desired.

So what happened in my childhood? I read, voraciously. I had an engineer for a father and an obsessive love of The Lord of the Rings. This is probably why my writing is almost invariably founded upon the pillars of science and attention to detail. Cheever, on the other hand, had an alcoholic for a father, which may explain why so many of his stories feature booze.

The deep end is scary.
Painting by H. R. Geiger.

But there are later influences. Right now I’m attending a creative writing course along with some very talented individuals, people who have pushed me to become a better writer. Would I be any good at writing without that? No, I’d still be in the “Lucas Hole”, subconsciously believing that Star Wars is representative of all of sci-fi. Those unaware of the genre as a whole may expect most of it to include whooshing space-battles and Star Trek technobabble, but these are things that I become less and less inclined to use. Why? Last week I was told that my work is always better when I work with the unusual, and I immediately knew that it was true. I have learned to throw my readers in the deep end, and it is something all good science fiction does.

Could it be that I am improving because I am casting off my childhood influences?

 

And with that I leave you. There will be no more posts to this blog, but please do visit my regular writing blog, Quantum Marbles.

A Text Message, a Poem.

Finally gotten round

to hanging my new friend

on the wall.

He’s staring at me.

NO! PLEASE OPEN

THE POD BAY DOORS!

IT’S COLD AND I DON’T

WANT TO DIE!

The Invisible (Wo)man and Her (Not So) Invisible Pen

Once, the writer was invisible. It was not uncommon for novels to be published under pseudonyms. Did you know that George Orwell’s real name was Eric Blair? Or that Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was first published anonymously?

Things are different today. Published authors go on tours (like rock-stars!) to publicise novels. Some authors have become minor celebrities, appearing on television and at red carpet premiers.

But should that be the case? Or should writers be invisible?

Emily Dickenson was an invisible poet. She was something of a recluse, and only published twelve poems in her whole life. She even went as far to write a poem in direct criticism of the idea of selling her words into print. I very much suspect, however, that her real reasons were more to do with the publishers wishing to remove her precious, precious dashes. I—really do not—like—the fact that—she—uses at least—one—per line. The result is that her work was simply published after her death.

Blink and you'll miss it.

I personally believe that understanding the writer is an important part of understanding the writing. The Lord of the Rings is an excellent example of this. It is, without a doubt, one of the most consistently misunderstood books in the whole of the English language. Most people read it in near-total ignorance of Tolkien the writer. Not to mention without also reading The Silmarillion. As a result, they miss the intricate and elaborate mythology he constructed, a mythology which confirms his place as one of the all-time great writers. Should he be invisible? No. Such a thing would be tragic.

Scientists Make It... Politicians Abuse It.

There is an important question that all writers must someday answer for themselves: “Should I write about social and political issues?”



The socio-political impacts of E = mc²
cannot be understated.

Now the first thing I should point out is that I am a writer of science fiction, so my answer can only be in relation to sci-fi. And as I see it, scientific advancement is the driving force that carries all significant changes forwards.  That means if I am to write about science, I must also look at the socio-political impact of any given theory.

William Gibson is the foremost writer of “cyberpunk”, a branch of sci-fi that concerns itself with the digital world. Gibson could have contented himself with writing high-octane computerised thrillers, but he didn’t. Instead, his novels look at the potential impacts of the virtual world on our lives. The results are both fascinating and startlingly foresighted.

In other words, his books are worth reading. Would they have been if he had refused to engage with socio-politics? No. As a rule, I would say that any sci-fi that doesn’t force the reader to question something—either himself or the world around him—is hardly worth the paper it’s written on.

This is not confined to science fiction. For example, Emily Dickenson is vague to the point that I often find it difficult to tell what she is writing about, whilst John Cheever is direct in his criticisms of American society. Somehow, Cheever always manages to be more engaging, always leaves something behind when the book is closed. Of these two writers, it seems to me that Cheever is the greater.

The Muse and the Narrative Springboard

John Cheever often starts his stories with an object: the radio in “The enormous Radio”, the play-script in “O City of Broken Dreams”. These provide him with a springboard from which to kick-start his creativity. Would he have been able to examine the backside of the American dream without the voyeuristic power of the radio? Or the “fantastic” play-script that no-one has read?

Chris Powling once wrote that authors don’t wait around for inspiration to strike. Instead, they look for things that they can hang a story on.

Writers often talk about the importance of originality. The truth, however, is that original thought is not something that springs out of the mind. It occurs when an artist looks at something with new eyes, finds a new way of constructing a story.



You've got to admit that my Muse is a real looker.

Budding writers frequently imitate published authors that they admire; I myself remember making maps in the image of Middle Earth. The key word here, though, is “budding”. I might have well have used “inexperienced”. Imagine a writer who can only imitate The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars. Not pretty, is it?



The trick to original thought comes in two parts. First, a writer must evolve beyond the need to copy those he admires. And second, he must find his own springboard.

The springboard is something that a writer must choose for himself. It has to be something he finds interesting. I chose science as my springboard, though you might as well use the term “muse”. Science changes and evolves over time, so there is always something new to play with. And that something that every writer needs; new toys to kick start his creativity.

The Papers

The desk was littered with papers and books, each possessing such esoteric titles as “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies” and “The Warp Drive: Hyper-Fast Travel within General Relativity”. An empty mug rested on one of the books: a rather drab wad that seemed more coffee stain than paper.

 

The walls of the office were metal, uniformly flat and grey, whilst the floor held a slight curvature. The only background sounds were the whir of the vent, located near the roof, and the footsteps of the neighboring occupants.

The sole occupant of the room was a man sitting upon a swivel chair bolted to the floor. His fingers lazily twitched in the air, as if tapping away on an invisible keyboard, whilst his eyes stared emptily at nothing.

The door swung inward and a head appeared through the crack.

“John, can I talk to you for a sec?”

John nodded, but did not look up.

“Nice VL.”

“It’s on the way out,” John said, noncommittally.

“You should get a Sandbenders.”

John shrugged.

“Look, about… these papers.” 

“I know what you’re going to say. They all say it.”

“You know it can’t be done.”

“Gödel.”

He sighed and pinched the bridle of his nose. “For the last time, the Universe isn’t rotating.”

 

Truth ≡ Provable Scientific Fact: Fiction ≡ Speculation

All writers take something of their lives into their work. I use my fascination with science as my starting point. Others I have known use their own experiences as the basis. Cheever’s stories definitely draw on this method; whilst Dickenson’s poems often mention an individual she calls the “master”, whom she may have been infatuated with.

When writers deal with their own experiences, the “unreliable narrator” becomes an issue. How much is truth and how much is fiction? Is there room for truth in writing?

This leads me to an argument I once had with a friend. How important is the science in sci-fi? 

There is an instinct among inexperienced (≡ crap) sci-fi writers to oversimplify the details of space travel. Star Trek was particularly guilty of this. It was about life in space, but didn’t once deal with the difficulties involved.

To explain why realism is more entertaining, I will tell you a story of the Apollo missions. It involves toilets.

You're lucky if you get one of these!

Urination was easy to deal with. All they needed was a tube, fitted with a condom. It wasn’t too bad, either—unless the astronaut opened the valve too early and unwittingly vacuum-sealed his penis to the tube.

Solid waste was a different matter. Before the space toilet, they were forced to use bags: special bags, with adhesive rim and a finger-shaped pocket. The astronaut had to stick them to their buttocks, and since nothing falls in microgravity… that was what the finger-pocket was for.

The next task facing the astronaut was to open a capsule of germicide, seal it into the bag, and knead the contents to make sure they were fully mixed.

 

The command module was a confined space. So when someone needed to use the “Waste Management System," the others had to avert their gaze, and try to ignore the smell.

You can’t make this stuff up.

On another note, there was a small debate about “gun ≡ metaphorical representation of Dickenson”. I have this final point to make:

“It's bad to kill. Guns kill. And you don't have to be a gun. You are what you choose to be. You choose. Choose.”

                                       —The Iron Giant (1999)

One Poem in the Style of Another

I believe I was asked for a poem in the style of Emily Dickenson. I comply. I did not say, however, that I would not be irreverant.

1

What – is – that – thing?

Why – is it so – odd?

A Wookiee on the landing –

For – the love of – God –

Close – the – door –

Why not buy – pyjamas –

That is what – they’re for –

Please – do not be as – obtuse – as –

Bits of wood – a flat-pack shed –

No – the hyperdrive – does not

Go there – the instructions said –

Oh for God’s – sake – go to – bed –

I Am Writer, I Am Scientist

            Writing is sourced from a variety of places, each unique to the writer in question. For me, I think research is the starting point.

            I write because I love telling stories. But that, in and of itself, is not enough. No good story is founded upon writing for its own sake. That is where my other great love comes in—my love of science. I am happiest, I think, when discovering new things about the universe we live in.

 

            It is only natural that I should tell stories about it, too.

            All good writing has some basis in research; it’s about realism. Not the “literary” kind. It is about creating something that is believable. It is about applicability.



A collection of science books I am reading for research purposes.

            When Mary Shelly wrote Frankenstein in 1818, it was in part inspired by experiments in galvanism and the idea that life could be bestowed by electricity. This made the novel highly relevant at the time of publication, and it has not lost any since. In the field of cloning, a small electric current is used to combine new DNA with an empty cell body. Indeed, the first synthetic life form was created as recently as 2010.

            Having a basis in science gives a text relevance to our understanding of the universe. If an idea is important to our understanding today then it will be in the future, even hundreds of years from now.

            If I have become a writer, then it is through contemplating scientific issues within a creative framework. And if a writer can become important, it is by being applicable, both now and in the future.

            And now I leave you with a proof of the fundamental speed limit. Bonus points shall be awarded to anyone who spots the assumption and creates a story around it.