Tag: stephen king (Page 1 of 2)

Literary Necromancy: Resurrecting Your Dead Manuscript

Necromancy is generally frowned upon.

People freak out when the White Walkers do it. Sauron took the name “Necromancer” and that seemed to bother some folks. Dr. Frankenstein practiced the art, albeit a bit more scientifically. Even Jesus kind of did it, but he’s Jesus so it’s cool. Otherwise, most would probably tell you that the dead should stay dead.

But what about dead books? I mean those novels that we write, bury, and forget about, the ones that Stephen King calls “trunk novels.” Sometimes we think about them again. Sometimes not.

The question I’d like to answer is this: How can we bring a dead novel back to life? Bust out your Necronomicons, people. We’re about to do some work.

1. Ask Yourself: What has Changed?

Zombie

A simple question, but a necessary one. What’s changed between now and the time you initially wrote your manuscript? Ostensibly, it must’ve been something big.

In my estimation, the best possible answer is that you’ve resolved a plotting issue that had previously held you back. Many novels sputter out and die simply because we can’t figure out what happens next. If we do so posthumously, that’s an excellent reason for a posthumous reexamination.

Alternatively, you might’ve decided that you’re better equipped to tell your story than when you first conceived of it. I’ll give you an example. Referring back to the aforementioned Stephen King (a fan of necromancy himself—cough, Pet Sematary, cough), he’s performed the art with many of his many books. For example, he first conceived of the novel 11/22/63 way back in 1971, even before his first novel was ever published. Yet he decided to bury the idea, resurrecting it only when he found time for the requisite research and developed the literary talent needed for such a book. Same goes for his novel Under the Dome; King first began writing it in 1972, yet let it die. It was reborn again in 1982, then died again. It was reborn a third time in 2009, and that turned out to be its final form.

2. Now Fix It

Now comes the hard part. As the necromancer, it’s your job to remedy the issue that killed your manuscript in the first place.

Sometimes this process comes easy. And since you already performed step one, you have a good idea what needs to change. Concentrate on fixing those elements so that your novel’s reincarnated form is better than its previous one. We want dung beetle to human, not dung beetle to worm.

During the editorial process, you might find that these fixes require huge edits. If you’re willing and able to do the work, this can payoff bigtime. For example, about three years ago I began a manuscript entitled Who the Hell is Julian Strange? May it rest in peace. It was a story about a rock and roll singer named Julian Strange who suddenly and spontaneously returns from death (a novel fitting for this blog post). Moreover, it was about the supporting characters whose lives were changed by this supernatural event. One such character was a self-pitying Los Angeles detective named Gerald Barkley. A man of no particular importance.

Despite a promising beginning, Who the Hell is Julian Strange? died a few months into its life. The characters felt uneven and the plot didn’t seem right. Ultimately, the manuscript itself wasn’t ready for life.

Years later, while searching for something to submit to my writer’s group, I exhumed the corpse of Who the Hell is Julian Strange? Oddly enough, my interest was drawn not to the titular character, but instead to the self-pitying detective, Gerald Barkley. I wanted to know more about this guy. What happened in his life that made him so glum? And, I wondered, could he be redeemed?

The second-coming of my manuscript is entitled Gerald Barkley Rocks. It’s available on ebook, paperback, and hardcover now. Find your copy here.

Anyway, my point is this: let the necromantic process take you where it will. Once you’ve committed to reanimating the corpse of your manuscript, follow the new version wherever it leads you. You’ll find it takes you in all sorts of delightful and unexpected directions.

3. Finish It

I met a zombie once who told me this: “The only thing worse than dying once is dying twice.” The same goes for our manuscripts. Once we commit to necromancy, we should stick with it.

Why? The answer is simple enough. It takes time! You could easily spend that time on a new idea, one that smells better and has fewer maggots crawling all over it. So if you’ve chosen the dead manuscript over a living one, make that time worthwhile. Don’t let your dead ideas die again.

In Conclusion

In some worlds, reviving the dead might be frowned upon. But hey. We’re writers. It’s okay for us to do it, so long as we identify issues, fix them, and finish the process.

You’ve got the skills. Now go do some necromancy.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Don’t Get Stumped: 5 Ways to Beat Writer’s Block

Throes of Creation

Leonid Pasternak’s “Throes of Creation”

Writing’s always fun when you have something to write. But when the well runs dry, you might find that you’ve got writer’s block.

But what is writer’s block? Is it even a real phenomenon? And if it is, what can we do about it?

As the late Sir Terry Pratchett once said, “There’s no such thing as writer’s block. That was invented by people in California who couldn’t write.” Okay, possibly. But I think there’s also a common misconception about writer’s block in general: that it’s a condition where you are literally incapable of writing. I don’t believe in that either, Terry.

I do believe, however, in writer’s stump—and I’m not talking about trees. Writer’s stump means you just get stumped—like on a math problem, or with a difficult riddle. It happens to every writer, probably even Terry Pratchett.

So what can we do about it? Here are a few ideas.

1. Try Working on a Completely Unrelated Project

For me, this method works really well. I think that’s because I remain in the writing state of mind, even though I’m not working on my main project.

To get started, try writing something completely new, like a flash fiction piece or a short story. You could even try writing about how difficult it is to think of something to write, so long as you’re putting something on the page/screen. You might find that it changes your mindset from I can’t write to I’m struggling with this particular piece right now, but I’m still a good writer.

The other side of this coin is just stepping away from writing entirely—but just for a little while, I hope. If you’re feeling especially enraged about your writing, Nicolas Cage-style, then you might want do something else for a while.

2. Look to One of Your Favorite Works for Inspiration

I find this one either works really well or just pisses you off (Cage-style pissed? See previous paragraph). For example, I might pull my hardcover of American Gods down from the shelf, pick a random paragraph, read it, and say to myself, “Wow. When I grow up, I want to write like that.” And then, hopefully, I’ll go back to my piece with a smile and newfound inspiration.

Or, on another day, I might read the same random paragraph and exclaim, “Wow. When I grow up, I will never, ever be that good. Woe is me.”

Your reaction to this method will probably depend on your temperament or what kind of mood you’re in on that particular day. Be careful with this one.

3. Look Back at Something You’ve Already Written

Similar to number 2, but try it with your own work. I would suggest picking something you wrote a while ago and were always very proud of, but haven’t looked at for a while. That way, you might surprise yourself with some especially crackling pieces of dialogue, or a beautifully-written image.

This one is especially effective because writer’s stump is often just a symptom of self-doubt. You get stuck, which makes you wonder if you’re actually a good writer, and suddenly, you have no good ideas anymore. By looking back at a good piece, you’ll see that you’ve already written some amazing stuff, so there’s no need to feel like you can’t write.

Or, for a little fun, try revisiting a piece you wrote when you first started  writing. I did that once, and it was awesome. You come out of the experience realizing that you’ve improved a ton more than you might realize.

4. Ask yourself, “What is this piece really about?”

This, like the other tricks I’ve mentioned, is certainly not foolproof. But it’s one of my favorite techniques. If you sit back and look at your story as a whole, not just as one event leading to the next, you might spot the way out of the stump you’ve gotten yourself into.

I think Stephen King sums this method up perfectly in his nonfiction masterpiece, On Writing. He describes a particularly nasty case of the block when writing The Stand thusly:

“I liked my story. I liked my characters. And still there came a point when I couldn’t write any longer because I didn’t know what to write…I circled the problem again and again, beat my fists on it, knocked my head against it…and then one day when I was thinking of nothing much at all, the answer came to me…If there is any one thing I love about writing more than the rest, it’s that sudden flash of insight when you see how everything connects.”

Just taking a step back and looking at the big picture sometimes makes all the difference.

5. Grind it out!

This method isn’t for everyone, but I think it’s worth a try sometimes. If you’re writing a novel and can’t think of a way to get your character from Point A to Point B, just plop her/him at Point B and figure out the “how” later. You might find that the answer comes to you as a result of your subsequent writing. Furthermore, this avoids the blank-stare-at-the-screen-or-page moment, which just leads to more of the same.

Closing Thoughts…

The stump/block, in the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger, is one ugly you-know-what. Thankfully, there are many ways to defeat it. I’m certainly no expert, but I like to write about writing and the methods I’ve listed here sometimes work for me. How do you fight the block? Feel free to leave your favorite techniques in the comments below.

And keep on writing!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

3 Reasons to Join a Writers’ Group

When I say “writer,” what image comes to mind?

You might picture a veteran wordsmith hunched over a desk, scribbling away at the last pages of a swollen manuscript. You might picture a twenty-something at Starbuck’s equipped with coffee and a laptop, earbuds blasting something by Radiohead. Or you might picture a guy with an axe chopping a hole in a bathroom door.

Anyway, there’s a common thread among all these hypothetical writers: they write alone. And though writing is often an individual activity, being a writer should be collaborative.

One of the best ways to collaborate on your writing is to join a writers’ group. Here are three reasons why you might want to try it.

They Encourage You to Write

For me, the next project is always more exciting than the current one. When I’ve been working on the same characters for three months, sometimes it’s difficult to muster the same enthusiasm I once had.

That’s where writing group members come in. If you’ve got a good group, they’ll encourage you to keep working on your projects. In my group, for example, we always start our critiques with compliments. This often gives me the confidence to proceed with projects I might’ve otherwise tired of.

They Provide Deadlines

Deadlines are powerful. And when you join a writer’s group, deadlines come free.

In my group, we always send submissions one week before meeting times. It’s not a hard deadline, per se, but we all respect each other, so we stick to those deadlines.

Though they might seem intimidating, deadlines are actually awesome. They force us to finish our work rather than return for the hundredth rewrite.

They Give You Great Book Recommendations

This one might not be obvious, but it’s true. The best writers are great readers. So, odds are your fellow writers will recommend great books you’ve never heard of. They might be fiction or they might be about writing itself. Whatever the recommendations are, you can be sure you’ll enjoy them.

I’ve found that since everyone in our group shares more or less the same interests and goals in writing, I’ve gotten some great book recommendations from them.

I’m Convinced! Now How Do I Join?

I discovered my writers’ group on Meetup. There are also numerous online groups one might join, such as Codex and WritersCafe. And, of course, Googling “writers’ groups near me” could work. Join a group today!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now.

5 Best Fantasy Book Series

I love fantasy books. I read them, I write them, and on days like today, I blog about them. I think the title of this post says all it needs to, so let’s get into it.

5. The First Law by Joe Abercrombie

Image from Wikipedia

Of all the series on this list, The First Law might be the one you’re least familiar with. A brief synopsis: Logen Ninefingers, a barbarian of the frozen North, teams up with cheery torturer Sand dan Glokta and arrogant nobleman Jazal dan Luthar to serve the great wizard Bayaz. Thing is, Bayaz might not be exactly what any of them are expecting.

This series intentionally subverts about as many common fantasy tropes as possible. Abercrombie especially enjoys drawing murky lines between the good guys and the bad. What results is a series populated with oodles of complex, compelling characters.

Also, this series is actually pretty darn funny (in a Fargo sort of way). For example, in Glokta’s first chapter, he’s constantly interrupted by various parties while trying to torture a dude. He’s even scolded by the head of his department for recklessness, which might remind folks of classic bureaucratic nonsense that accompanies many jobs. This dark humor is a refreshing addition to a genre that can at times take itself too seriously.

4. Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling

Image from Book Haven

There’s a reason everyone loves this series, and it’s not just because of Alan Rickman. Harry Potter has an astounding cast of interesting characters, sharp plotting, and a satisfying series arc.

One of the series’s greatest strengths is its academic setting. Since many readers are currently or have been enrolled in school themselves, it’s easy to relate to Harry. Sure, maybe you haven’t competed in a life-threatening Triwizard Tournament. But you’ve likely gotten pretty stressed about an upcoming test (even if it wasn’t to become an Auror).

3. The Dark Tower by Stephen King

Image from Amazon

Some might debate whether or not The Dark Tower is fantasy, but this is my list and you can’t stop me. (Full disclosure: I haven’t actually finished this series; I’m currently on book four. But see above note about this being my list and all.)

Set in a desolate desert landscape, The Dark Tower chronicles the adventures of Roland Deschain, the last living gunslinger from an extinct line. He’s the archetypical man with no name who wanders the land in search of the Dark Tower, the point at which all worlds converge.

This multi-world theme is the coolest aspect of the series. From page one, you’ll notice  many elements of Roland’s world correspond with our own. For example, a saloon piano player plays a song you might know: “Let It Be.” And yet in Roland’s world, it’s just a folk standard—no one’s ever heard of The Beatles.

Another thing: alternate realities. When a particular character dies (no spoilers) the series timeline splits. This creates a paradox in which two realities exist simultaneously. Which kind of drives people nuts. So cool.

For fans of Stephen King, there’s even more to love. That’s because this series is packed with easter eggs from all his other novels. You’ll notice little references to many of his other famous novels, including ‘Salem’s Lot, The Shining, and It.

2. A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin

Image from winteriscoming.net

Expecting this at number one? Listen, this ranking thing is tough. Don’t be too hard on me!

I’m sure you’ve seen HBO’s wildly popular adaptation, but I’ll give you a synopsis anyway: The kingdom of Westeros is in turmoil. Royal families all vie for control of the Iron Throne. Lots of sex and bad language.

This series is sick. Martin writes some of the all-time most memorable characters in fantasy, and dare I say, even literature itself. The plot is entirely character driven, and each event is propelled forth with excitement and intrigue. Plus, anyone can die at any moment, which gives the series a very real sense of menace.

Martin’s series has redefined modern fantasy. He’s been hugely successful at eschewing the clear morals and idyllic landscapes of The Lord of the Rings in favor of grittiness and brutality. It can be exceedingly grim at times, but it also leads to some really compelling reading. It’s amazing how Martin seeds events in early volumes which don’t come to fruition until two or even three volumes later. There are literally entire message boards composed of fan theories about what’s happening and what’s going to happen. Amazing stuff. And people wonder why it takes him so long to write these things.

1. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

Image from Adazing

Yup, it’s still the GOAT. The Lord of the Rings is the foundational text of modern epic fantasy literature.

As with these other series, The Lord of the Rings features a huge cast of endearing characters. Though they’re not as diverse or distinct as those in say, Song of Ice and Fire, Tolkien’s creations still stand the test of time. Each has interesting dramatic conflict and each plays an important role in the story. Plus, I’d argue that some of Tolkien’s greatest characters, such as Gandalf, Gollum, and Samwise Gamgee, have entered into literature’s all time greatest.

The setting is also magnificent. Middle-Earth is perhaps one of the most well-realized worlds ever put onto paper. Each structure has history; every location has a story; every other page has a song. Okay, I might be exaggerating with that last one, but still. Whether or not you love the pages and pages of wandering through the setting, it’s difficult to deny the depth of imagination here.

And how about the languages? Countless post-Tolkien fantasy authors have created alternate languages, yet it’s obvious that theirs have little basis in linguistics. Remember, Tolkien himself was a professor of language. In fact, some have speculated that he wrote LOTR more or less as an excuse to create his own languages. Therefore, the words in his works have real depth. There’s a functioning system behind these names—not just someone making up words that sound exotic.

No, The Lord of the Rings is not a perfect series. There’s a glaring shortage of female characters. The treatment of ethnicity and race can be troubling at times. We’re not talking about H.P. Lovecraft here, though I do feel that some elements of the book have not aged well into our modern world. No, it isn’t perfect. But I still believe this trilogy is the foundational text for epic fantasy literature. There’s tons to enjoy and tons to love.

Okay, that’s my list. What do you think? What did I get wrong? What did I forget? What would you leave off entirely? Usually I hate ending blog posts with a call to comment, but really. Comment on this one. I want to hear from you!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocksis available now on Amazon Kindle.

3 Ways to Scare the Pants Off Your Readers

Wait, no, keep your pants on. I’m only being figurative.

Happy Halloween to you, reader! If you like the frightening, the demonic, the monstrous, or the sugary, today is your day. That goes double if you’re into horror fiction. And maybe triple if you write it.

So, as a horror writer, how can you scare the pants off your readers (again, figuratively)? It’ll take more than just ghouls and guts. In this post, we’ll cover three classic writing techniques from famous horror writers. And…go!

Hinting at Future Tragedy

Warning your readers about looming danger creates a nice sense of dread. It’s the literary equivalent of the murderer sneaking up behind the lead character in a movie: You can see it coming, but you can’t stop it. 

For an example, look no further than the modern master of horror himself, Stephen King. In his 1983 novel Pet Sematary, King explores the cost of death—and life. When the Creeds move into a new home in Maine, they find an ancient burial ground that magically resurrects the dead.

In this novel, there’s a particularly sweet (and later tragic) scene in which the main character, Louis Creed, flies a kite with his son, Gage. Here’s an excerpt:

“I love you, Gage,” [Louis] said—it was between the two of them, and that was all right.

And Gage, who now had less than two months to live, laughed shrilly and joyously. “Kite flyne! Kite flyne, Daddy!

There it is. Gage only has two months to live. Here we get a sense of tragedy. This poor little kid is going to die! In addition, the hint establishes that dread I mentioned earlier. We know that Gage will die, so for the next few chapters, we fear that moment. We know it’s going to be bad. We know it’s going to be horrifying. Yet it’s going to happen no matter what.

Inverting Natural Rules

Forget about flying—pigs shouldn’t be able to talk. Yet a pig talks in Clive Barker’s short story Pig Blood BluesAnd it’s nothing like Babe: Pig in the City. Check it out:

[The pig] watched them through the slats of the gate, her eyes glinting like jewels in the murky night, brighter than the night because living, purer than the night because wanting.

The boys knelt at the gate, their heads bowed in supplication, the plate they both held lightly covered with a piece of stained muslin.

‘Well?’ she said. The voice was unmistakable in their ears. His voice, out of the mouth of the pig.

“His voice” is the voice of a character named Henessey who hung himself and was subsequently eaten by the pig. Yummy.

Why is this so disturbing? Well, for one, because it’s impossible. In both horror and fantasy fiction, the impossible happens. The key difference, I think, is exactly what impossible things happen. In fantasy, the impossible inspires awe or wonder. Think Rivendell in The Lord of the Rings or Quidditch in Harry Potter. By contrast, the impossible in horror inspires fear and shock. Think the Monster in Frankenstein or Dracula in Dracula.

This is what we see in Pig Blood Blues. It’s horrifying to think that a pig might eat a corpse. It’s even more horrifying to think that the pig might then be possessed by the spirit of the boy it ate.

Turning Narrators Insane

The crazy first-person narrator is a hallmark of horror fiction. Just take the work of H.P. Lovecraft. He often wrote in the first person, and many of his stories end with narrators claiming that they aren’t insane (even when they are). Take his short story “The Rats in the Walls” as an example. Here are the closing lines:

When I speak of poor Norrys they accuse me of a hideous thing, but they must know that I did not do it. They must know it was the rats; the slithering, scurrying rats whose scampering will never let me sleep; the daemon rats that race behind the padding in this room and beckon me down to greater horrors than I have ever known; the rats they can never hear; the rats, the rats in the walls.

For context, the narrator ate Norrys. Yeah, like Hannibal Lector.

The horror here is the fragility of the human mind. At the beginning of the story, our narrator is clearly sane. He seems confident, intelligent, and refined. Yet when he sees what lies beneath his family’s ancestral home, it drives him mad. That’s all it takes. The line between sanity and madness is thin. There’s nothing like a first-person narrator to illustrate this idea.

Happy Halloween!

Okay writers. We’ve learned some scare tactics from the best in the genre. Now let’s go scare our readers!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

The Gunslinger and Character Backstory

The Gunslinger

When writing characters, where do you start? Maybe a name, or a physical description, or some basic personality traits. Before long you’ll probably wonder how your character got the way he or she is now. Which is why it’s important for the story to start before it actually starts, if you get my meaning. That means character backstory.

Take, for example, Roland Deschain from Stephen King’s The Gunslinger. He’s a sombre, soft-spoken, mysterious type, and you probably would be too if you had a childhood like his—Roland’s mom was sleeping with his dad’s top advisor, for god’s sake. In fact, Roland’s past is so important to his present that we need to see it up close and personal. That means backstory.

But offering details on a character’s background is tricky. Constant flashbacks interrupt the flow of a progressing story, and dropping little details into the narrative can sometimes come across as expository. For example, Character A says, “Remember when you had more fingers?” Character B frowns and says, “Sure. I’ll never look at blenders the same way again.”

Of course these characters remember that moment. In fact, the only thing a writer does by including this exchange is tell reader exactly what’s going on. Which is about as subtle as a slap to the face.

King, however, handles the backstory of The Gunslinger perfectly. It’s a novel that’s very much about the past, a novel where each character is shaped and motivated by events which happened long before. These events are so important, in fact, that it won’t suffice to reference them through dialogue or brief description. So here’s what King does, and does very well: He references characters we’ve never met before, then explains who those characters are in subsequent flashbacks.

For example, a boy from New York City named Jake Chambers suddenly appears in the Roland’s world without explanation. Jake tells Roland that he can’t remember anything about how he got there, so we’re left to wonder. That, however, would be quite the fraying loose end. So King gives us a brief flashback.

Fortunately, it’s not just a flashback for the sake of a flashback. We learn two very important details from it: One, that Jake died before coming to the gunslinger’s world, and that is perhaps why he’s there. And two, that Jake was somehow sent there by the man in black, who is the gunslinger’s arch nemesis (excuse the lack of actual names—it’s all about the mystery, baby).

I’m drawn to this aspect of King’s novel because I struggle a lot with character backstory in my writing. It’s hard to know what to give and when to give it, but it’s a skill that can be developed through practice and careful study of the pros.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.

My Favorite Books of 2017

With 2017 in the rear-view and 2018 on the horizon, I figure now’s as good a time as any to share with you my favorite books I read this past year. Hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace

From Amazon

David Foster Wallace was an excellent writer and a really brilliant guy. Though his life was cut tragically short, we’re fortunate enough to still have his writing. If you’d like to get acquainted with that writing, consider Consider the Lobster. This collection includes essays and articles on a variety of subjects, including the Maine Lobster Festival, crappy sports biographies, pornography, and why John Updike was a bonafide narcissist. Plus, Wallace writes about 40 pages on English language style guides, which is itself an impressive feat.

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

From Amazon

This book is almost sixty years old, so I’m not exactly telling anyone anything new by saying that it’s good. But The Sirens of Titan represents Vonnegut at the top of his game, as far as I’m concerned. He blends social commentary, religion, war, and politics all into one, with his trademark humor and wit to match. My favorite line from this book: “Theology: Someone created the universe for some reason.”

The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

From Amazon

I don’t read a lot of series these days, but I’ll make an exception for The Dark Tower. As the second entry in the series, this is a really beautiful continuation of an outstanding start. The originality and sheer weirdness of the book are excellent, as are the plot and characters. Though it’s a somewhat lengthy book at 400 pages, it goes fast.

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

From Amazon

Prior to this novel, the only other Margaret Atwood I’d read was Negotiating with the Dead. I didn’t particularly care for that one, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Oryx and Crake. I loved it. This is a book about a guy named Snowman, who lives in a withered version of the world without many humans or resources. The narrative shifts back and forth between Snowman’s present and past, showing how he and the world became what they are now. A word of warning: once you read this book and find out what “ChickieNobs” are, you’re unlikely to ever eat at KFC again.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

From Amazon

Another book about a post-civilization future, though it’s more likely you’ve heard of this one before. Station Eleven has gotten a lot of national attention, and for good reason. After disease tears through the human population, an acting troupe travels the world performing Shakespeare’s plays. That’s just the main plot, though. In a wider sense, this book is about legacy, religion, art, and survival. The author, Emily St. John Mandel, does some fancy footwork with the narrative by flipping back and forth in time. While it takes a while to get used to, I loved this style because one sees how the characters connect, how certain artifacts got into the hands of others, and more. Very neat story. If you’re looking for books to read in the new year, I recommend these. Have a wonderful 2018!
Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocksis available now on Amazon Kindle.

Why the Divide Between Speculative Fiction and Literature?

Floating Castle

Literature | ˈlit(ə)rəCHər | noun | Written works, especially those considered of superior or lasting artistic merit. – New Oxford American Dictionary


According to a certain stuffy pocket of the literary community, science fiction, fantasy, and horror, collectively known as speculative fiction, don’t qualify as literature. Decent stories? Maybe. Cool ideas? Sure. But in the eyes of this snobbish literary elite, speculative fiction just doesn’t measure up to stuff like The Grapes of Wrath and Moby Dick

Would you ever read Moby Dick willingly? Yeah, neither would I.

Take the 2003 National Book Awards as an example. That year’s winner was none other than Stephen King, who of course mainly writes horror. The literary elite wasted no time in attacking him, no doubt because he’s just a lowly genre writer. Here’s a quite from critic Harold Bloom.

“The decision to give the National Book Foundation’s annual award for ‘distinguished contribution’ to Stephen King is extraordinary, another low in the shocking process of dumbing down our cultural life. I’ve described King in the past as a writer of penny dreadfuls, but perhaps even that is too kind. He shares nothing with Edgar Allan Poe. What he is is an immensely inadequate writer on a sentence-by-sentence, paragraph-by-paragraph, book-by-book basis.”

You forgot chapter-by-chapter, Harry, but whatever. I disagree with you.

In an episode of my favorite podcast, The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy, host David Barr Kirtley led a panel on this very debate. Recorded to promote Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2015, edited by John Joseph Adams and Joe Hill, the panel featured such influential SF figures as Adams, Hill, Carmen Maria Machado, Seanan McGuire, and Jess Row.

It’s interesting; Adams and Hill have starkly different opinions on the purpose of the volume. On the one hand, John Joseph Adams thinks of Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy as a vehicle for speculative fiction to prove its worth to the literary mainstream. In his own words:

“I and other science fiction fans believe that the best science fiction and fantasy is on par with or better than any other genre. My goal with The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy was to prove that.”

Joe Hill, however, argues that speculative fiction has already merged with literature, and that it did so a long time ago.

“The instruments of science fiction and fantasy—the tools in that genre toolbox—have been out there in the literary world and being explored for at least a decade now, in work by people like Jonathan Lethem, Michael Chabon, Margaret Atwood, and Cormac McCarthy. Science fiction and fantasy is part of the literary mainstream, and has been for a while now.”

At first glance, Hill’s argument resonated more with me. There are so many novels out there—The Road, Fahrenheit 451, Cloud Atlas, and 1984, just to name a few—that are generally considered literary, non-genre works, yet are so clearly speculative fiction that it’s difficult to argue otherwise.

The more I’ve thought about this debate, the more I’ve started to like a decidedly different answer.

Why doesn’t the literary mainstream accept speculative fiction?

Why does it matter?

Let’s refer back to our definition of literature for a second. In the grand scheme of things, does The Lord of the Rings have “superior or lasting merit”? I’d say so. Since the trilogy’s publication in 1954, it’s been an enduring classic for generation upon generation. It’s been translated into 38 different languages (not sure if Tengwar counts there). Furthermore, it’s a story about enduring human ideas: friendship, tyranny, power, greed, love.

Does The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy have lasting merit? Does DraculaDoes Slaughterhouse Five? 

If you’ve ever read any of those books, you already know the answer.

Truth is, we don’t need to speak up for speculative fiction. Speculative fiction speaks for itself.

 

 

Are you a fan of speculative fiction? Me too. Check out some of my speculative work here.

Vonnegut, King, Rushdie, and the Art of the Opening Line

Writer

Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, widely considered a literary classic, starts with a simple sentence:

“All this happened, more or less.”

Isn’t that an amazing first line?

Now we’re not all Kurt Vonnegut (okay, none of us are), but we can still learn from the guy.

Why is this line so good? It sets the tone: satirical, somewhat detached, and spare. Thousand-page tomes are all well and good, but concise and precise literature is oftentimes even better.

Of course, there are many ways to start a story. Stephen King’s opening lines, for instance, often display a distinct style. Here’s the first sentence of King’s short story “The Monkey”:

“When Hal Shelburn saw it, when his son Dennis pulled it out of a mouldering Ralston-Purina carton that had been pushed far back under one attic eave, such a feeling of horror and dismay rose in him that for one moment he thought he would scream.”

King takes a slightly different approach than Vonnegut, though I think it’s no less effective. The first sentence of Slaughterhouse Five serves to set the tone for the rest of the novel. King, on the other hand, often starts with a character, sometimes several, and a situation. In our example, we’ve got Hal Shelburn, a father, and his son, Dennis. Dennis just pulled something awfully creepy out of a corner of the attic. What is this thing? Why is it so scary? The only way to find out is to read on. And that’s what makes it so effective.

For a third example, let’s turn to the great Salman Rushdie. His controversial 1988 novel The Satanic Verses begins thusly:

“‘To be born again,’ sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, ‘first you have to die.'”

This sentence is sick.

There’s a lot going on here. We have an element of fantasy introduced: the process of resurrection. We have a main character who is perhaps offering wisdom to another character. We also have the exciting image of a man “tumbling from the heavens.” How did he get there? Who is he singing to? Why the heck would a guy who’s falling from the sky be singing? There’s only one way to find out…

The best first sentences grab our interest, make us wonder, and invite us into the story. They might address tone or character or action or any number of other story elements, but, it seems to me, they all do one thing: demand us to read the rest.

Developing Good Characters in Fiction

Good characters aren’t stick figures. They demand more detail than lines, circles, and basic expressions.

As writers, if we want our characters to go from good to great, we’ve got to do more. It’s our job to fill in the lines, to add shading, texture, subtlety, and nuance.

It’s difficult, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it. Here are a few good places to focus:

Voice

Giving characters distinct voices helps make them feel real. Easier said than done.

One of the best ways to find a character’s voice is writing that character constantly. You probably won’t find a character’s distinct tone the first time you write them. More likely, you’ll write them, revise them, and refine their voice over time.

A great example is George R.R. Martin’s Patchface, a weird jester who speaks in poems and riddles. For example: “Under the sea, smoke rises in bubbles, and flames burn green and blue and black. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.” He’s mysterious, nutty, and a little creepy, with a tone all his own.

Mannerisms

Mannerisms are key to good characters. Sherlock Holmes, for example, wouldn’t be the enduring character he is without this famous line: “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

Like good dialogue, effective mannerisms suggest details about your characters. The above mannerism works because it indicates who Sherlock Holmes is: an intelligent, sophisticated, slightly patronizing fellow.

A mannerism to avoid is something like a character pushing their glasses up all the time. Though it’s a repeatable quirk, it doesn’t suggest anything about our character (other than poor vision).

Backstory

Past experiences shape us all. Characters are no different.

Try to imagine what a character’s life was like before the book begins. Take Jack Torrance, the main character of Stephen King’s classic, The Shining. A huge part of that novel is his past violence toward his son, Danny. Jack constantly tries to atone for it throughout the novel, which shapes his actions, and therefore, him.

One important detail: all this backstory need not appear in your work. Sometimes it’s best to leave it out, since heavy backstory can impede the flow of an otherwise good yarn. Still, as the writer of the story, it’s good information to have in your back pocket, since it might help inform later behaviors.

There’s tons more that goes into building great characters, but these are three of the essentials. Use them to fill in those stick figures.

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