The number of SFF writers who’ve attended a Clarion Writers Workshop is really amazing. Sometimes it seems like “everyone” has…except of course that everyone hasn’t. Me, for example. By the time my writing reached the point where I might have qualified for Clarion, I was the mother of two young children, and there was no way I was going to leave them for six weeks–even if there had been enough money for it, which there wasn’t.

So in my mind Clarion has always been one of those things that other people do, like going to Europe, or living in a city with a literary community or something—definitely an advantage to a writing career, but not a necessity. Somehow I’ve managed without it…or have I? Maybe this has always been the missing ingredient! 🙂

At any rate, this summer I’ve decided to participate if only in an auxiliary fashion, by joining the Clarion West Write-a-thon. The goal of the Write-a-thon is to raise awareness, along with money that will go toward funding next year’s workshop. If you’d like to donate, please visit my participant page. My big goal is to force myself to stop squandering time online and instead spend more focused time writing.

I’ll be reporting on my success both here and on my participant page***. Wish me luck!

And find a list of all participants at the bottom of this page.

*** Update: I don’t think there’s a way to report progress on the participant page, so I’ll just do it here.

Several days ago I posted on the tired old meme that hard SF is “emotionless” writing. Since then I’ve seen this meme repeated two or three times by other writers, which is both hugely discouraging and infuriating. I strongly encourage you to go read a post by Ronald Zajac called “Can we rethink this whole “hard vs. soft” business?” Ronald’s post looks at the issue from a more historical perspective:

Clearly, if we rewrite our definitions of the genre in a way that lets readers appreciate Lem and LeGuin, Clarke and Delany, together, for their different qualities, we will be doing all of SF a favour. At the same time, perhaps, we’ll be eliminating gender divides that have no place in a forward-thinking genre.

Ronald’s post led me to a twitter debate late last night with @AthenaHelivoy, as we have different perceptions of the problems in and around so-called “hard SF.” My final conclusion to this debate is very simple: whether we like the term or not, the concept of “hard SF” exists as a marketing category, and when sweeping statements are made condemning the subgenre as “emotionless,” those statements hurt me and many other writers who are not remotely guilty of the charge. So I object, and will continue to object.

I suspect I’ll be writing more on this subject soon…

The meme
There’s a meme circulating among women writers like me who grew up in traditional publishing, and it goes something like this: If a man promotes his own fiction, that’s seen as good business sense. If a woman promotes her own fiction, she’s seen as pushy and self-important, and is likely to be criticized, ostracized, and ignored.

Is this true?

My experience
I promote my own work. When I decided to go indie, I knowingly and willingly took on the task of being my own publicist. With my latest novel, The Red: First Light, this meant that I:

• wrote my own happy announcement of the upcoming book, which I sent to several other writers, asking if they’d like to see an early copy and perhaps provide a quote
• approached John Joseph Adams at Lightspeed Magazine about getting an excerpt included in a spring issue
• put myself forward for a spot on the SkiffyFanty podcast
• did a gradual “build up” via twitter, using descriptive announcements and the cover art to garner interest and build up my mailing list
• co-launched the novel at Book View Café for additional exposure
• sent out newsletter announcements
• in the book’s acknowledgements, asked readers to help out with a review or a tweet if they should feel so inclined
• after publication, did ongoing “getting the word out” tweets, as well as G+ and facebook posts
• on a writers list, asked for guest blogging opportunities and happily accepted the two I was offered
• took out paid advertising promoting myself and the book
• wrote nonfiction posts like this one that will hopefully be of interest to others while getting the word out.

Not everything I’ve tried has produced results. I’ve gotten no reponse at all several times, but so what? People are busy and not everyone shares the same tastes. Overall though, I’ve been amazed and very, very grateful for all the help I’ve received and the opportunities I’ve been given in this strange new world of promoting my own book.

But have I been criticized, ostracized, and ignored?

Criticized? No, not to my face anyway.

Ostracized? Well, doubt does creep in, and it’s easy to wonder if some people have had about enough of me…but if so, it’s subtle. I keep in mind a revised version of an old adage: Don’t attribute to malice what can be explained by diverse interests and extreme busy-ness. We all have our own concerns, our own interests, our own obligations, our own careers. No one is obligated to be my promo-buddy and I hope no one feels they are obligated.

Ignored? Writers get ignored all the time! Well, the golden ones might not be ignored now that they are golden, but it’s a safe bet that they were ignored plenty at some point. Yes, I’ve sent queries that were never answered; review copies that never got reviews; and have failed to hear so much as an “Enjoyed the book!” from friends who seemed interested. That’s life. We’re all busy — and no one is obligated to be my promo-buddy, or to shore up my withering ego. (Though hey, it’s awfully nice.)

Have I got it worse because I’m a “pushy woman”? I have no evidence whatsoever to support that claim. I wouldn’t have even considered it except that I keep hearing the meme repeated.

But what if I am being ostracized and ignored by some elements of the writerly world or social media? Honestly…so fucking what?

The alternative: nothing?
Because the alternative is to do nothing, and where is that going to get me? People can’t buy a book they’ve never heard of. And in a world where millions of books are being published, what are the odds that potential readers will just happen to stumble onto mine? After having invested months, sometimes years, in a novel, it would be kind of crazy to do nothing at all to promote it. “Build it and they will come”? Only if you tell them it’s there.

(Reminder: I’m speaking from the perspective of an established, traditional writer. If you’re just starting out, the best advice probably remains “write the next book.”)

This meme must die: “Shameless Self-promotion”
I hate this term. I cringe every time I hear another writer use it. It always makes me frown and wonder if I should be ashamed of my work. I’m not ashamed of my work, because my work doesn’t go out into the world until I’m pretty confident it’s a good read.

Striking a Balance
All of the above does not mean that I am free to be an annoying asshat of a promotional machine. Twitter is the easiest and the cheapest means I have of “getting the word out.” Anyone who follows me closely certainly knows I have this new book called The Red: First Light and that it’s a near-future military thriller, and that it’s gotten an awesome review from Kristine Kathryn Rusch. (See how I did that?) Still, it’s called SOCIAL MEDIA for a reason, and the majority of my tweets are just that: social chit-chat, announcements, and retweeting other people’s stuff. The getting-the-word-out tweets are repeated though, because each tweet is ephemeral, and it’s entirely possible that would-be readers who follow me have still not heard of the book.

Here is the thing about marketing: most of your shots will miss, so you have to keep shooting, and you have to keep shooting at new markets. The hard reality is that a lot of people who are or might be interested in my work are not on twitter. Go figure. But it’s true. So…

Try new stuff
This. Try new stuff. In this rapidly evolving world, success means learning, growing, changing—trying new things. Deal with it. Don’t hide behind tired old memes.

A couple of posts ago I used a quotation from Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon. It’s one of my favorite guidelines for life, so I’ll repeat it here:

SHOW SOME ADAPTABILITY

But also don’t forget that your real job is writing the next book–which I need to go do right now.

Long ago it was taught to me that within the science fiction genre we should never say “Sci-Fi.” If we want an abbreviation, we use the initials “SF.” Otherwise it’s “science fiction.”

The general reason given for avoiding “sci-fi” was that logically it should be pronounced “skiffy.” (Shaun Duke and Jen Zink have turned this right around by creating The Skiffy & Fanty Show).

Really though, I think it’s a tribal thing. Within the genre, “Sci-fi” was seen as a term used by dilettantes, those who might have picked up a Michael Crichton novel or two, watched some Star Trek or Star Wars, but in all likelihood knew little to nothing about the core of the genre.

I used to wince when someone would say to me, “Oh, I love sci-fi!”

But you know what? Times change. I now freely use the term “sci-fi” — and twitter is the reason.

Twitter allows a maximum of 140 characters per tweet. “SciFi” without the hyphen takes up five. “Science Fiction” requires fifteen. That’s a HUGE difference when I’m trying to tweet something like:

“There Needs To Be A War Going On Somewhere” The Red: First Light is a near-future scifi thriller. Read a sample: http://bit.ly/14Z7KSH

That’s 136 characters. Spelling out “science fiction” would break it.

So why not use “SF” which is even shorter? Because for most people “SF” stands for “San Francisco.” Yes. Truth. I have confused people by using SF in a tweet. I may be an “SF Writer” but I’m not a writer from San Francisco and The Red: First Light is not set in San Francisco.

So I have taken to heart a quotation from Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon:

SHOW SOME ADAPTABILITY

I’ve put aside my tribal prejudice and, on twitter at least, I’ve adopted the use of “Sci-Fi.” I understand this is a kind of heresy, but then, I’m a fiery revolutionary indie publisher…or at any rate, I’m a pragmatist.

Ya’ gotta’ do what ya’ gotta’ do.

You know?

This morning, a post from last summer on women and hard SF got resurrected in my twitter stream. The title: “Being male is not a prerequisite for hard SF.” Well, duh?

Written by Damien Walter, and published in The Guardian, the piece begins:

Despite protestations to the contrary, hard SF is a boys’ club that is undermining its own potential by resisting the contributions of women writers.

It goes on to say:

Women writers are more than welcome in hard SF, assuming they have a background in the hard sciences and value hard logic to the exclusion of all emotional experience.

Wait…what? All my hard SF novels have just been insulted! By this definition, we must conclude that there is no emotion in my work. Shame on me. And there seems to be an implied corollary that men wouldn’t read my books if there were any emotion to be found in them — which is not remotely my experience.

Update: Comments here and on twitter have made me realize that these quotes I’ve picked are leading to a misunderstanding. There is a tired old meme that says hard SF is emotionless writing. Damien is taking this meme as truth. He’s not advocating emotionless writing; he’s railing against it. So my first objection to the piece is that I simply don’t agree that hard SF is emotionless writing. But Damien says that it is, and goes on to say that the work of women is accepted by hard SF readers if it values “hard logic to the exclusion of all emotional experience.” I feel my work has been accepted as hard SF, but I don’t feel it’s devoid of emotion — so I find the argument quite insulting on multiple levels.

The tone of the piece seems intended to provoke a reaction — “hard SF” is redefined as “chauvinist SF” and on we go from there — so it’s successful in that.

I’ve been working on my own post on hard SF. I guess I should finish that up and publish.

Some days–most days?–my twitter feed can feel like an ongoing scolding, with writers reiterating the need for more diversity in fiction, by which they mean characters who aren’t white, male, and straight. It sometimes feels like these young ’uns don’t realize that diversity has existed in SF for a very long time.

Today all this has gotten me thinking back to my youth, and the impact a writer had on me in the early ’80s, merely by the way she used unnamed, secondary characters. I think this writer was CJ Cherryh, though it could have been Elizabeth A Lynn. Memories fade. At any rate, the technique was simple and it went like this (I’m not quoting, just making up an example.):

The cop approached with narrowed eyes, looking ready to slam someone against the pavement. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

What’s the big deal in this made-up passage? Well, in my early ’80s mindset, at the end of the first sentence I am visualizing a big, tough-looking male cop. Then at the end of the second sentence, my assumption gets kicked head over heels. I remember that this delighted me, and it happened over and over again. I even began to think “Oh, she got me!” every time my mind insisted on visualizing what turned out to be the wrong gender, as if it was a game the author was playing with me.

What this approach did, in a very simple way, was to illustrate a society where women are neither victims nor inferior partners, but just people who fulfill diverse roles, to the surprise of no one living in that story world. And of course the approach can be reversed to show men in what we might consider non-traditional roles.

Let me reiterate, this was in the early ’80s, and these were secondary characters.

The experience really woke me up. I took the lesson to heart and I still use the technique all the time. Here’s a quote from my recent story “Through Your Eyes”:

Cops are everywhere, all of them in armor, and their communications gear seems to be working just fine. I start to look for Elliot, but one of the cops gets in my face. She’s almost as tall as I am, and she’s used a pigment to give herself spooky gray eyes that lock on mine. “ID?” she barks.

I understand the ongoing calls for more diversity in the genre, but it’s not like we haven’t been working at it for decades–and “show don’t tell” really can work wonders for getting the point across.

I’m modeling my usual crater attire. The elevation of the crater floor is around 7400′, so solar radiation is intense and sunburn happens fast, so I learned to hide from the sun long ago. (Photo by Ronald J. Nagata, Sr.)

A few years ago my husband, Ron Nagata, retired from his position as Chief of Resources Management at Haleakala National Park here on Maui, but he still works at the park as a volunteer. One of his ongoing projects is invasive weed control from Haleakala’s summit to Kapalaoa Cabin. Over the weekend he and I participated in a periodic service trip, aimed at knocking back the population of two target weeds. It was a fantastic weekend, with unusual weather–colder than expected for this time of year.

On the six-mile hike in, we enjoyed a constantly changing panorama of mist rolling just above the slopes and between the cinder cones. Over the last couple of miles we were spattered by a very light rain. We reached the cabin, rested a bit, and went out again into a cold afternoon to start working. Before long a dribbling rain started to fall, but slowly enough that we stayed out until evening.

The next day started off clear, but the mist and fog soon returned. We worked until mid-afternoon and then returned to the cabin for a late lunch–just before the rain arrived in earnest. It rained hard until after nightfall, so that ended our working day…I’ll admit I wasn’t complaining, because I was tired.

On Monday morning we worked for a couple of hours and then set off through the spectacular central crater scenery on our hike out.

This is me, in the field. There was very little of our target weed in this area, but at the next patch of vegetation seen in the distance above my head, we discovered plenty–and pulled as many as we could. We’ll be back for the remainder before too long. (Photo by Ronald J. Nagata, Sr.)

The peak in the distance is Hanakauhi, aka “Hana Mountain” as seen from Halemau`u Trail in the central crater. (Photo by Ronald J. Nagata, Sr.)

I’m just back from a trip to Washington D.C., my first-ever visit to the capital. I’ll have a lot more to say on that later, but for now I wanted to mention a few nice things that happened while I was away.

First, the finalists for the 2013 Theodore Sturgeon Memorial Award have been announced. The award is for the best short science fiction of the year, and is chosen by a jury. Much to my surprise, my Analog story “Nahiku West” was on the list. Find the full list of finalists here at Locus Online.

Second, I was very pleased to have The Red: First Light appear on Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s monthly recommended-reading list. Here’s part of what Kris had to say:

a near-future sf thriller that’s so compelling, I couldn’t put the thing down. Excellent, well-imagined, great characters, fast-moving, great writing, everything I want in my science fiction (in my fiction really) and rarely get. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

It’s the first in a series, but it doesn’t leave you hanging. This part of the story ends. And then, when you finish the last words, you can breathe again. Because if you’re anything like me, you’ll be holding your breath to the very final sentence.

🙂 That made my day! Find the post here.

And finally, John DeNardo has an article just out at KirkusReviews.com called “When Short Fiction Grows Into a Novel.” I’m one of the writers he interviewed along the way, since The Red: First Light had it’s start in my Asimov’s short story “Through Your Eyes.” Find the article here.

I haven’t actually seen a copy yet, but Jonathan Strahan’s Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year Vol. 7 is now available for purchase. It includes my novelette “Nahiku West” originally published in Analog.

This is the first time one of my stories has been selected for a best-of-the-year anthology, so it marks a milestone for me.

Visit Nightshade Books to read about the volume, and for links to vendors.

My newest novel, The Red: First Light, is a very near-future military thriller that got me thinking again about the challenges of writing near-future fiction. The result is a blog post, up today over at Book View Café:

This fear of early obsolescence or “aging out” makes the near future a scary place to set a novel. What’s the lifespan of a book going to be when the associated history is changing even as the novel is written?

Click on over to BVC to read the whole thing.