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.