[guest post] Judith Tarr on Story

Writer Brain: The Power of Story

by Judith Tarr

Story helps us process trauma and understand the world. I've been thinking more about what Story is, and what it does. And how as far as we can know, it's unique to humans.

We may find out that other animals tell each other stories, too. For now, we seem to be the only species that tells itself things that aren't true, but that contain a deeper truth. It may be a factor of the way our brains are constructed. We can think in layers. We can know what is, but also what might be or could be--and what couldn't possibly be except in our imagination.

It can be hard to tell what's true and what's not. We have a powerful capacity for self-deception, which can be dangerous. Consider the Big Lie. It's a deliberate falsehood that's told to serve a purpose, usually political or financial; that's repeated over and over until the people who are lied to believe it's true.

Which, yes, has something to do with the events of this month.

But I'm talking about Story here. About the lie that is, in its essence, true. It creates worlds and characters. It invents histories. It fabricates languages that can take on lives of their own.

People are out there speaking Klingon and more than one dialect of Elvish. They're living in our world but speaking words that came from the mind or minds of humans who imagined how alien beings would think and talk. It's a strange thing, but it's beautiful. It's a lie but it's true.

The image I chose for this post exists in multiple worlds. In this one it's a piece of jet contrail that caught the wind and attached itself to wisps of cloud. The light of the setting sun struck the ice crystals and give them the illusion of color, even while the wind made it seem to be moving steadily westward.

In another world, the world of Story, it's a dragon. Can you see the shape of it? The long neck. The snaky tail. The wings. It comes from the west and it's flying east over the mountains.

I don't know where it started or where it's aiming to go. But because I have the power of Story, I can imagine. I can invent a world for it to come from and a reason for it to be flying over this land, on this evening. I can make up a destination for it, and tell the story of what happens to it when it gets there.

Maybe it's a happy story. It's bringing good news to people who are waiting eagerly for it. Or maybe it's a tragedy. Something terrible happened, and it's warning the people in the east. Or it's a monster story, and it's hunting, and its prey is running away in front of it.

Personally I like the more optimistic kinds of stories. I understand and appreciate the need for the darker ones, for the way they shed light on our own darker impulses. But I lean more toward good news than bad. There will pretty definitely be darker moments, crises and reversals, but my mind wants them to end more happily than they began.

I know that every story can't and won't have a happy ending. Real life can hit hard. But one function of Story is to make it possible to withstand the hits. To find a way through. To face problems and, if at all possible, solve them.

Even if they can't be solved, at least we can try. We can imagine alternatives. We can hope.

Story helps us do that. That's its power.

That's why I'm writing fiction again. So that I can process what's happening. Deal with the hard parts. Find ways to make them less hard. And share those ways with other people, many of whom will share their own ways with me. And maybe, among all of us, we'll end up in a better place than we began.

Judith Tarr is the author of over forty novels and numerous short stories. She has a Patreon, where she shares fiction, nonfiction (like this blog), and (of course) cute cat pictures.

https://www.patreon.com/dancinghorse . 

She lives near Tucson, Arizona with a herd of Lipizzan horses, a small clowder of cats, and two Very Good Dogs.

Reprinted by permission

In Troubled Times: Bouncing Off the Bottom

Following the 2016 election, I wrote a series called In Troubled Times. It seems appropriate to post these again now

Last week I had a meltdown. It did not take the form of tears, irritability, or burning pots of

vegetables (as I am wont to do when I am upset and distracted). Instead, a horrible doomsday scenario popped into my mind and I could not talk myself out of it. Normally I’m not given to imagining worst-case no-hope futures. I try to keep in mind that no matter how distraught I am at any given moment, whatever is bothering me will not last forever. (This goes for good times, too. All life is impermanent.) This time, however, the dreadful sequence had taken hold and would not be dislodged.

So I did what I have been advised to do about other problems. I put my nightmare out there and asked folks what they thought. I often joke that we muddle along because we’re not all crazy on the same day. I figured that even though my brains had taken a sharp turn to crazyland, there were some saner people out there. Some agreed with me, others had their own dire forebodings, and still more had confidence that wiser heads would prevail.

After I’d calmed down, I had a serious moment of “What got into me?” I admit that I was a little embarrassed at losing it, especially in such a public way. I tried to make light of the situation by joking that aliens had eaten my brains (one of my stock explanations for moments of temporary insanity).

Then I remembered to be kind to myself. No harm had been done, after all, except to the illusion that I am always calm and rational. That’s a good illusion to shatter now and again for fear of being insufferable. Through painful experience, I’ve learned the importance of getting friendly with things that upset or frighten me. What if my lapse were doing me a favor and what might it teach me?

Once I got some distance from the moment of panic, I realized that I’d been expecting myself to progress in a straight, continuous manner. No backsliding or side tracks. No relapses. Recovery sometimes works like that, but more often it’s full of slips and detours, three steps sideways to every step forward. Just as when an alcoholic or addict “hits bottom” before they are ready to make substantial changes in their attitudes and lives, going “off the deep end” was a wake-up call for me. I saw then that I had been stressed by more than the political situation. We have two sick or injured pets, one of whom will likely not recover and will have to be euthanized. Several other challenging events have occurred that, taken singly, would be manageable, but all together on top of everything else pushed me off-center.

I’m grateful to the friends who offered sage (and not-so-sage) comments and thereby helped me to gain perspective on my own condition. I’m incredibly annoyed that the universe ganged up on me in so many ways all at once. I’m also appreciative of the experiences I’ve had (good, bad, insane) over the years that have shown me I am not invincible but that if I am willing to ask for help (and then take it), I am resilient and resourceful. I value everyone and everything in my life that helps me to keep my priorities straight.

Announcing the final Darkover novel

Farewell and Adelandeyo, Darkover

I fell in love with the Darkover series, created by the late Marion Zimmer Bradley, when becoming a professional author was still my dream. I loved the world, the characters, and the insightful and compassionate treatment of themes. Many of my early short fiction sales were to the Darkover anthology series, which I eventually had the honor of continuing as editor, beginning with Stars of Darkover. Around 1999, Mrs. Bradley asked if I would consider collaborating with her on one or more Darkover novels. She passed away just as we began work on The Fall of Neskaya (DAW, 2000), which I completed. Since then, I have written eight more Darkover novels under the supervision of her Literary Works Trust. The final volume, Arilinn, was released in hardcover and ebook formats on November 12, 2024. Darkover is one of the longest-running and best-loved series, straddling the border between science fiction, romance, and fantasy. For decades, it has touched the hearts and fired the imaginations of generations of fans. The earliest published stories date back over half a century to the publication of The Planet Savers in Amazing magazine, then the first version of The Sword of Aldones in 1962 and The Bloody Sun in 1964. You can find the list, both in order of publication and Darkover chronology, here. For the last quarter-century, I have striven to tell the best stories I could, always staying true to the spirit of Darkover and its amazing people.  Now the Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust and I have agreed to bring the saga to a close with Arilinn, a heartfelt love letter and farewell to the series and its fans. I hope that if you have enjoyed my Darkover stories, you will check out my original work.

-- Deborah J. Ross

 

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Arilinn will be available in trade paperback in November 2025. It is currently available in the following formats:
Kindle: https://buff.ly/4cfj5Xm
ePub: https://buff.ly/3XiCZwA
Audiobook: https://www.audiobooks.com/audiobook/arilinn/800413
Hardcover: Amazon (perfect bound) https://buff.ly/48QprMG, or ask your bookstore to order hardcovers (with dust jacket) from Ingram, using ISBN 978-1-938185-83-0.

In Troubled Times: Annoyed? Irate!

Following the 2016 election, I wrote a series called In Troubled Times. It seems appropriate to post these again now

As the days post-election melt into weeks, I observe myself moving from disbelief to despair to relative calm . . . and now to feeling just plain annoyed. I am tired of the news being dominated by one horrible announcement after another, and even more tired of how much attention is paid to the continuous verbal effluvia flowing from the president-elect. I am tired of being jerked around emotionally by a bloviating buffoon whose chief delight seems to be keeping everyone else off-balance. I’m tired of every conversation about the news beginning with “Guess what outrageous thing president-elect/his newest appointee/some member of Congress just said?”

It’s one thing to be appalled and frightened by the statements of politicians now in power. There’s a time to focus on politics and a time for other parts of my life. It’s quite another to have my thoughts and days hijacked by irresponsible sensationalism. Not to mention counterfactual (aka “lies”) distortions. Remember the meme of the person who can’t sleep because somewhere on the internet, someone is wrong? When my brain gets taken over by provocative statements, that’s where I am, duped into a cycle of research and refutation. It’s a gazillion times worse if I give in to a lapse in judgment and actually reply to one of those folks-who-are-wrong. That never ends well, no matter how many times I persuade myself into believing otherwise. Social media do not, by and large, promote genuine discourse, but I get sucked into trying. Of course, the responses only get me more wound up. That’s my responsibility, because I know better. But I really would like to be able to glance at the news or visit a social media site now and again without having to fend off the lure of the outrageous.

Why is the fruitcake (and surrogates) dominating the news? I swear, every time he twitches a finger (especially in proximity to his cellphone), it makes headlines everywhere. On his part, the tactic of controlling the dialog by throwing out pompously outrageous lies is nothing new. That’s how he dominated the primary debates. He got billions of dollars worth of free air time during the general campaign by poking one hornets’ nest after another. Now he’s doing it on an international scale. And the news media buy into it every time, battling the hydra that grows a hundred heads for every one they whack off with facts. We’ve gone from sucking all the oxygen out of the room to sucking all the oxygen out of the news sphere and now the world.

I draw the line at sucking all the oxygen out of my head. Okay, I’m not hopeful that the media will take my suggestion to just ignore any sentence that includes “Trump” and “Tweet,” nor am I a good enough nerd to reprogram my computer to do that for me. Nor do I want to shut myself away from news of any sort. For one thing, I know myself well enough to admit that would be too anxiety-provoking. I will likely do better when I become better at not responding to trollishness.

But right now, mostly I’m annoyed to the point of being downright pissed. I recognize that anger can be friend or enemy. It’s energizing, which can be exhausting if I spend too much time wound up, or focusing if I master it. If I give in, I run the risk of descending into petty insults and ad hominen fallacies. Or I can use it to point the way to improvements in my own attitudes and behavior. What’s getting to me, and why? My anger can show me the line between things best shrugged off and those that call for action.

This, however, is how I feel today:

Artemisia Gentileschi, Judith and Holofernes

Water on Ancient Mars?

 We all need a break from political news, so here's a cool story, slightly condensed, from Universe Today on the presence of water on ancient Mars.

There was Hot Water on Mars 4.45 Billion Years Ago

Earth and Mars were very similar in their youth. Four billion years ago, both planets had vast, warm seas. But while Earth retained its oceans, the waters of Mars evaporated away or froze beneath its dusty surface. Based on geological studies, we know that Earth’s water cycle seemed to have stabilized early. From about 4.5 billion years ago to today, water has had a stable presence on Earth. For Mars, things are less clear. Clay minerals cover about 45% of the Martian surface and date to what is known as the Noachian period, which ranges from 4.1 to 3.7 billion years ago. During the Amazonian period, which dates from 3 billion years ago to today, Mars seems to have been mostly dry. We have little evidence of the earliest period of Mars, known as the pre-Noachian. But a new study peels back the Martian ages to give us a glimpse of the first epoch of Mars, and it comes from a Martian meteorite known as Black Beauty.

This new study doesn’t focus on Black Beauty as a whole, but rather on small crystals of zircon embedded within it. These crystals can be dated to 4.48–4.43 billion years, meaning they formed in the Pre-Noachian period. What’s interesting is that the crystals have layers of iron, aluminum, and sodium in a pattern known as oscillatory zoning. Since zircon is igneous in origin, this kind of banding is almost unheard of in zircon crystals. On Earth, there is only one place where such a pattern occurs, which is in hydrothermal geysers such as those found in Yellowstone National Park.

The presence of these crystals in Black Beauty proves not only that Mars was wet during the Pre-Noachian period, but that it was geologically active with warm thermal vents. Similar vents on Earth may have triggered the formation of life on our world. Whether life ever existed on Mars is still an unanswered question, but it is clear that the conditions for life on Mars did exist in its earliest history.

Reference: Gillespie, Jack, et al. “Zircon trace element evidence for early hydrothermal activity on Mars.” Science Advances 110.47 (2024)

Kindness of the Season

Amidst the wishes of merry this and joyous that, I am reminded that for far too many of us, the winter holidays are stressful to the point of crazy-making. The pressure to buy things we don't have money for, or even if we do, the pressure to find "just the right present" sends us into a frenzy of consumerism. Most of us eat and drink far too much, don't exercise enough, and in general let good intentions go by the wayside.

Then there are the family dynamics. The winter holidays are like putting dysfunctions old and new on steroids. Under the guise of ho-ho-ho bonhomie, whatever has been hurtful and unresolved resurfaces. Alcoholism and abuse emerge from the shadows. Unhealed wounds re-open.

The shortness of the days and the difficulty of getting fresh air and sunshine add to the gloom. Instead of green leaves and flowers, we find ourselves surrounded by frozen slog or mud. If we have any predisposition at all to Seasonal Affective Disorder, it perks right up.

To resist all this, we need black-belt self-care, not just for ourselves, but for the people we love. Kindness, simplicity...slowing down. Breathing. Stretching. Reflecting. Taking the time to feel what we need to nourish our bodies, our mind, our spirits.

The best holiday gift we can give is to be fully present with one another. To do that, most of us need reminding that we ourselves are precious. When our hearts are open, not only do we become fully alive, but we inspire and complete the aliveness of those around us.

In this, and every season, be peace. Be joy. Be love. Be yourself.

In Troubled Times: Numbing Out

I first posted this on December 12, 2016, right after the presidential election. I'm putting it up again as a reminder of how important it is to take care of our mental well-being in troubled times.

I have long understood the dangers and seductions of overwork. I’ve frequently coped with stress by balancing my checkbook or going over budget figures. Or reading and replying to every single email in my Inbox. It needn’t be intellectual work: scrubbing bathrooms or reorganizing closets works just fine. All these things involve attention to detail and (to one degree or another) restoring a sense of order to an otherwise capricious and chaotic world. I come by it honestly; when I was growing up, I saw my parents, my father in particular, plunge into work in response to the enormous problems our family faced. He and I are by no means unique. We live in a culture that values work above personal life and outward productivity over inner sensitivity.

“Work” doesn’t have to result in a measurable output. Anything that demands attention (preferably to the exclusion of all else) will do. Reading news stories or following social media accomplish the same objective and have the same result: they put our emotions “on hold.”

As I’ve struggled to detach from the waves of upsetting news, I have noticed an increased tendency in myself to overwork. It occurs to me that I reach for those activities in a very similar way other folks might reach for a glass of liquor or a pack of cigarettes (or things less legal). Or exercising to exhaustion, or any of the many things we do to excess that keep us from feeling. There’s a huge difference between the need to take a  breather from things that distress us and using substances or activities in a chronic, ongoing fashion to dampen our emotional reactions. The problem is that when we do these things, we shut off not only the uncomfortable feelings (upset, fear, etc.) but other feelings as well.

The challenge then becomes how to balance the human desire for “time-out” from the uncertainties and fears of the last few weeks and not numbing out. In my own experience, the process of balancing begins with awareness of what tempts me, whether I indulge in it or not. Is it something that can be good or bad, depending on whether I do it to excess? (Exercise, for example.) Or something best avoided entirely? (Some forms of risk-taking behavior, like unprotected sex with strangers.) If it can be both a strength and a weakness, how do I tell when enough is enough, or what a healthy way to do this is?

When is it time to run away (to Middle Earth, to a night club, to answering every single Tweet) and when is it time to come back? Am I able to extricate myself or do I need external help (an alarm clock, a family member)?

What about getting creative with escapes? Instead of binge-watching Stranger Things, how about taking the dog for a long hike and then watching one episode? A bubble bath instead of a drink? Calling a trusted friend before clicking on FaceBook?

Finally, a word on being gentle with ourselves. No matter how resourceful and conscious I am, I’m going to slip. That’s part of human nature. All these numbing escapes work, and that means not only will we reach for them, we’ll keep doing them. Will power alone isn’t enough to break us out of a session that’s gone on way too long (or that fourth drink or second pack of cigarettes). Some days we’ll do better than others. So it’s important to be kind to ourselves and others. We’re all coping with a difficult time, sometimes in healthier ways than others. Beating ourselves up for spending too much time playing video games won’t stop us the next time we reach for the console: it will only give us one more thing to escape from. One of the most helpful things I’ve done is to talk to others about what’s going on with me. If I notice my eyes and shoulders are screaming at me from too many hours staring at a computer screen, that’s a great opening for a conversation. I can ask for a friendly ear, whether I want advice or not. Commiseration and sharing of our different experiences – our failures as well as our successes – makes me more likely to try something else.

What escapes appeal to you particularly these days? Are they healthy (or can they be, if indulged with moderation)? How do you handle occasions of excess? What helps you to stay in touch with your feelings, or to come back to them after a break?

Book Review: We Always Knew Cooking Was Magical

A Thousand Recipes for Revenge, by Beth Cato (47 North)

What a rich and fascinating world Beth Cato has created in A Thousand Recipes for Revenge! In her analog of Western Europe, Chefs have an empathic connection with food and wine, especially those elements called “epicurea,” harvested from magical beings (like unicorn “tonic”). In Verdania, such talented individuals are strictly controlled by the royal court. Ada Garland is one such, in hiding after deserting the army many years ago, when the toll of injustice and bloodshed became unbearable. Solenn, a foreign princess forced into betrothal to the Verdanian crown prince, has no idea what to expect when her epicurean gift suddenly arises. Political intrigue, fast-paced action, great characters who develop through their tribulations, weird and often selfish gods, and amazing plot twists make for an absorbing and highly satisfying read.

I had a slow start in the initial few pages in which I struggled to connect with Ada. Once Solenn appeared on the scene, dignified and determined but overwhelmed by her new destiny, I was utterly carried away. I loved Solenn’s quiet competence, her love of her homeland that she might never see again, and especially her passion for horses. The scene in which she protects a horse that’s being abused made me love her forever. After that, Ada’s situation, on the run from mysterious assassins, trying to find a safe haven for her dementia-ridden grandmother, and still grieving the separation from the love of her life, took on fresh color and urgency. I decided the problem was me, not the story, as I could not think of a better approach.

Cato’s depth and storytelling skill shine through as the elements of world-building, character, and story mesh together with dramatic flair.

 

 

In Troubled Times: Finding an Inner Guide to Political Action

I first posted this November 28, 2016, right after the presidential election. I'm putting it up again as a reminder of how important it is to take care of our mental well-being in troubled times.

Like many others, I did not sleep well on election night or the following nights. Shock and dismay had hijacked my mind. I felt as if I had been catapulted into a very dark Twilight Zone episode. My thoughts went hither and yon, partly batted about by a political racquet, partly going from shiny/horror to next shiny/horror.

In my recovery from PTSD, I have learned to be protective of my sleep and my inner balance. I quickly detected warning signs and realized that I had to put my own mental and physical health first. Without that foundation, I wasn’t going to be able to make any sense or take effective action. So I set about using my “tool box” to reduce my anxiety. Besides sleep management and calming techniques, I reached out to my family and close friends. I tried as best I could to keep the focus on myself and my feelings, not politics. I took notice of which conversations made me feel better and which did not.

I felt better about myself when there was something I could do for the person close to me. Perhaps this was because I felt less powerless, but I believe it was because I felt more connected. Research suggests human beings are hard-wired to feel pleasure from helping others. Whether or not this is true, feeling valued and needed is a good thing.

So the first “movement” of my journey was to take care of myself and then to reach out to those around me.

Once I was feeling a bit more settled, I started to look around for other actions I might take. This required a great deal of filtering of news and social media. News sources inundated me with blow after terrible blow as events (and nominations or appointments) unfolded. I realized I could spend 100 hours a day on the various calls to action, and that not all of them were appropriate for me. Some would put me right back in the zone of risking my mental health.

How then are we to know how to proceed and what actions will not damage us?

We listen for that sense of rightness, no matter how frightening the prospect. I learned a great deal about this process from hanging out with Quakers. They talk about “discernment” and “leadings of the Spirit.” It’s one of the things that makes Quaker action different from other activism. One is led to take action by the promptings of the inner light, which means that arguments for or against make little difference. This made Quaker abolitionists (for example) tenacious in their cause.

What am I led to do? How will I know when that happens?

I’m still listening, and while I do that, I pay attention to small things that I feel able to do. They may not qualify as “Spirit-led,” but they seem possible. Then I notice how I feel. As an example, I wrote a letter of support to the nearest mosque; I felt lighter and more hopeful after I had mailed it. On the other hand, I felt low and discouraged after speaking with certain people I had otherwise reason to trust. I’m not likely to try that again.

I do not know how or even if this process of trial and reflection, slowly feeling my way, will lead to action on a state or national level. I’m definitely not going to fly across the country to attend a march in Washington D.C. or New York City. Because I’ve felt energized by writing letters, I am more likely to do that again. I’m considering volunteering in person at Planned Parenthood (where I volunteered when I was in grad school, before Roe v. Wade) or the ACLU, but do not yet see a clear path.

Meanwhile, I continue to practice reaching out, and find that the circle keeps getting bigger. By listening compassionately and seeking out safe places to share my own fears, I join a community of light. By sharing suggestions of actions, I become aware of those I might be willing to take, or inspire others to take actions I am not comfortable with. Who knows? Maybe knowing someone who is brave enough (or skilled enough) to do something will show me the way. Or perhaps the way will open in community once I see I do not have to act alone.

Short Book Reviews: Stealing a Human/Alien Hybrid Ghost

 Not of This World, by Simon R. Green (Severn House)

Gideon Sable--master thief, con artist, and self-proclaimed vigilante--faces a challenge he can't resist: to break into the British Area 51 and steal a ghost. Not just any ghost, but a hybrid between a human astronaut and an alien utterly bent on destruction. Although Gideon suspects the motives and veracity of his would-be client, he gathers his crew, lured with the promise of being able to walk off with whatever ultra-secret, ultra-valuable gadgets they can lay their hands on. His crew includes The Damned, armored by the haloes of two dead angels; Switch-It Sally, who can switch out just about anything; a werewolf; and Annie Anybody, capable of fully embodying an array of personas (in this case, Melody Mead, Girl Adventurer). Of course, nothing goes as planned, and this volume is, like its predecessors, jam-packed with plot twists, treachery, and revelations.

Gideon and his crew have come a long way since he first convinced them to join up with him, progressing through suspicion and animosity to grudging respect and, now, the bonds of family. In the last episode, The Damned and Switch-It Sally not only fell in love but also informally adopted the young werewolf. Gideon himself has gone from being a nameless man who inherited a legend to the emotional glue and super-planner brains holding it all together. In this sense, the book is as much about loyalty and family as it is about the present adventure. This gives a supernatural spy/con-man romp satisfying depth. I hope there will be many more books in the series.

In Troubled Times: Antidote to Despair

Following the 2016 election, I wrote a series called In Troubled Times. It seems appropriate to post these again now. This came out on December 9, 2016

Recently a friend voiced her despair about the effect of the elections and the president-elect’s nominations on the future of the planet. She said “fear” was too mild a term. Her conversation kept referencing the Permian extinction event and the destruction of the Earth. I admit I didn’t respond well. I tend to react to emotion-laden exaggerations of complex issues, and that reaction overrode the compassionate thing to do, which was to listen to her feelings. My mind flipped from a conversation about emotions to one about facts. Needless to say, she was not interested in whether current projects are for a target global warming of 3.6 degrees or 4 degrees Celsius.

In observing my own mind, I notice what I do when faced with the notion of looming ecological disaster. I run away to information. In this case, at least, I find it calming. The facts don’t change, but researching the issue and reading the considered opinions of people with legitimate scientific credentials who have studied the matter in depth changes my emotional reaction. I suspect a portion of this runs along the lines of, “Whew, I don’t have to figure this out all on my own!” I’m only one of many who are grappling with the problem.

Clearly, this was not my friend’s process. A little bit of information (the Permian extinction event plunged her into even greater hopelessness. From this I take away something so simple, its profound truth often escapes me: we don’t all cope with stressful news in the same way.

I’ve written about paying attention to what makes me feel calmer or more distraught, and then making mindful choices. Although information is helpful to me, it can also have an addictive quality. We writers joke about doing so much research on a novel project, the book never gets written. Similarly, I can mire myself in one source after another until I go numb. That numb state is a sure sign I’ve either made a poor choice or gone too far.

Blogging about my process, however, seems not to have a down side. I suspect this is because such writing puts me in better touch with my feelings and increases my sensitivity to what is good for me and what is harmful. It has the added benefit of being of service to others who are wrestling with the same issues, searching for a way through the morass of upset feelings to a way forward in what the Buddhists call “right action.”

Reaching out to others, offering my help, sharing my experience and insight and listening to their own, all these things lift me from despair.

What things help you?

Short Book Reviews: Puzzles Can't Carry the Plot

 The Puzzle Master, by Danielle Trussoni (Random House)

After a traumatic brain injury leaves him with a genius for constructing and solving puzzles, Mike Brink embarks upon a real-life riddle: novelist Jess Price, in prison for committing a notorious murder, pleads to see him in person although they have never met. She slips a baffling cipher to him, the “God Puzzle.” In trying to figure out what happened the night of the murder, what present danger has Jess terrified, and what the cipher means, Mike gets drawn into a twisted, generations-long story of forbidden arcane knowledge with the power to transform technology and humanity itself.

I loved the beginning of the book, especially the passages in which Mike sees puzzles as luminous patterns. Other than the occasional crossword, I’m not much for puzzles, so this “look-inside” was fascinating. As the story went on, with diaries telling stories-within-stories, I lost emotional connection with Mike. I distrusted his attraction to Jess as one more pasted-on artificial element. (It turned out there was a reason for the allure, but I didn’t see the signals that supernatural forces were at work.) Long passages that had nothing to do with Mike’s present quest intensified the emotional detachment. Three-quarters of the book, a series of characters arrived and proceeded, very much deus ex machina, to solve Mike’s problems for him while dumping huge, indigestible chunks of exposition. This part read as if two completely different books had been jammed together. Despite scattered scenes with action, the remainder of the book proceeded with very little sense that everything had been building to this point. In the end, Mike did relatively little to achieve his own goal or solve his own problems. The book was billed as a “thriller,” but the last part did a good job putting me to sleep. Which is too bad, really, because the material about puzzles was fascinating.

[personal] In the Aftermath...

 Thank you, everyone who has asked how I'm doing.

In the days before the election, I tormented myself with worst-case nightmare scenarios. Memories of the shock in 2020, being unable to sleep that night. Even deeper memories of growing up under the cloud of McCarthyism. Now life has created a buffer for me, in small part from anticipating the worst but also just not having the emotional bandwidth. My newly replaced knee is doing really well, but I'm in discomfort most of the time and PT exercises, stretches, icing, and the like eat up a lot of my focus.

To make matters worse, our oldest cat, Shakir, is in serious decline, most likely cancer although we aren't going to put him through expensive, invasive testing. He's 17 and frail. We're doing palliative care, which has perked him up quite a bit, but it's likely temporary. Too soon after losing Gayatri.

And to make matters even more complicated, there's another parole hearing [for the man who raped and murdered my mother] next week. Remote, so I don't have to haul myself to Vacaville. My speech is just about ready. As usual, I plan to decompress by watching the entire Peter Jackson director's cut The Lord of the Rings over the following two days. It strikes me as an appropriate thing to do after the election, as well.

We aren't facing this alone. We have one another, our work, and our dreams. Me, I'll have Gandalf, Aragorn, Arwen, Merry & Pippin, Eowyn, and Sam at my side for a bit.

Fortitude,

Deborah

In Troubled Times: Facing the Problem Squarely

Back in 2016, I posted a series of blogs entitled In Troubled Times. 
Today it seems fitting to remind myself that I survived then and will survive now. These thoughts are from 

Monday, December 5, 2016.

A few days ago, John Scalzi wrote in his blog, Whatever, “…the Trump administration and its enablers are going to make a mad gallop out of the gate to do a whole bunch of awful things, to overwhelm you with sheer volume right at the outset.”

Pretty shocking statement, huh? That was my first reaction. My second was that Scalzi is very likely correct. All the signs are there…all the signs that in my panic-stricken moments, I want to ignore so hard they go away.

My next reaction was to surrender my mind to a gazillion chattering monkeys, each with her own idea of What Must Be Done Right Now. I can work myself into a downright tizzy in no time this way. Not only that, I can paralyze myself with too many alternatives and no way to prioritize them, jumbling actions I might take with those that are impossible or unsafe (crazy-making) for me.

Any of this sound familiar?

It’s all based on a false choice. I don’t have to either prepare now for the logically impending “awful things” or play ostrich on the river in Egypt. But in order to see other, saner alternatives, I must first evict the Monkeys of Panic so I can regard the situation calmly.

We’re in for some hard times, and knowing that is a relief.

At first, it seems counter-intuitive to say that acknowledging we are in for some dark times comes as a relief. The relief is because instead of nebulous fears running rampant, bursting into exaggeration and melodrama at every turn, vulnerable to any sort of fact-free hype, I’ve stepped away from the emotional storm. I’m facing the problem squarely, as my tai chi teacher used to say. We’re in for some tough times, and likely there will be a whole slew of bad news in the early months of 2017.

When I’m no longer trying to deny or distort the way things are (for example, Trump’s cabinet choices and what is known about them, or what he has said he will or won’t do) I not only become calmer, but better able to see things I might do, alone or in solidarity with like-minded folks.

This is based on a simple truth that in order to act effectively, I need to be sane. I can’t be sane if I’m bouncing off the walls at every headline on social media. I could, of course, disengage entirely from social media and refuse to read or listen to any sort of news. But I don’t want to do that. I want to stay engaged, but in a mindful way. I want to know what I’m up against. Once I stop fighting the reality of what that is, I free myself to use my energy and time in productive ways. I don’t know exactly what form these tough times will take, but I don’t need to prepare for every twist and turn. I can trust my ability to respond appropriately and creatively.

NaNoWriMo Thoughts

National Novel Writing Month is upon us. It's an international month-long event in which

folks pound out the first draft of a novel, posting the progress, getting lots of cheers every step of the way, and exchanging writing advice. Lots of friends will be doing it, many of them regular participants.

Alas, or perhaps not alas, not me.

I always have specific reasons. This year, I'm very close to finishing a revision of an on-spec novel that I've been working on for some years now, in the time gaps between contracted projects. I'm on the brink of the climactic scene, which spans 4 or 5 chapters and brings together everything that has gone before with a bang and a few nifty twists. If I nail it, the book works. Needless to say, this book not only haunts my every waking hour but has inveigled itself into my dreams. Not the story, mind you -- the writing and revising of it.

I began this book back in 2013 on a lark, one of those what-if ideas that just takes off on its own. It had been a long time since I'd embarked upon an unoutlined, unplanned, seat-of-the-pants story, especially one of novel length. I had not realized how much my creative spirit needed what I call taking a flying leap off the cliff of reality. Working on my netbook, I continued the draft while taking care of my best friend as she died of cancer. The story, with all its open possibilities -- and it had quite a few surprises for me -- gave me an emotional refuge so that I could return, "batteries recharged," to be present with my friend and her family.

Am I going to set this aside and lose all the momentum I've regained during this revision?

Book Review: Not Fairyland

 And Put Away Childish Things, by Adrian Tchaikovsky (Solaris)

Adrian Tchaikovsky’s And Put Away Childish Things is a fresh new take on the subgenre in which the beloved children’s fantasy novels are real and open to visitors. In this case, middling successful actor Harry Brodie has grown up in the shadow of his grandmother’s wildly successful and much-loved “Underhill” book series. There’s something “off” about the world and its characters—from the saccharine child heroes to the spooky, dangerously contrarian clown to the faun who never learns from his mistakes. Harry shrugs it off as being “children’s literature.” Now, on the cusp of the Covid pandemic, Harry’s life as a failing kids’ TV presenter takes an unexpected turn and he ends up captive to a group of seriously disturbed folks calling themselves the “Underlings.” They’re convinced that Underhill is real, that Harry is the rightful heir, and that he is capable of taking them all to this magical kingdom.

They’re not wrong, though. But when Harry arrives in Underhill, he finds a world in disarray—decaying, abandoned, and failing. At its heart, in the castle that was once its crowning glory, a dangerous secret.

I raced through the book. I loved the layers of theme and emotional resonance. It is as much about Harry’s longing for meaning in his life as it is about an adventure in a childhood magical realm. Tchaikovsky gives voice to characters whose only purpose has been to entertain one specific reader. Created with immutable flaws, they strive for agency as their world deteriorates around them. I couldn’t help thinking that good fantasy, whether for children or adults, succeeds through emotional resonance at a deeper level. Placeholder characters serve the plot but have no inner psychological life; they cannot aspire to anything greater meaning than their superficial roles. Harry’s “hero’s journey” demands that he shift from an “I-It” relationship to Underhill to one of “I-Thou,” extending both compassion and responsibility to the magical realm and its folk. My favorite of these was the former-villain spider, Smackersnack, who has found her way into the real world as a computer programmer and abdicates the role of eternal monster. I rather like her.

Recommended.

Book Review: Murder on a Jovian Colony

The Mimicking of Known Successes, by Malka Older (Tor)

I love the premise of this novella: a murder mystery set on a colony circling Jupiter, the last remnants of human civilization after the collapse of Earth’s ecology.  Against the backdrop of the storm-wracked gas giant, linked platforms grow crops, house communities, and provide nooks of academic research aimed at devising the perfect ecology once it is safe to re-seed Earth with life. Cool, huh?

When a man goes missing and it’s feared he has either jumped or been pushed off a platform, to fall endlessly in Jupiter’s atmosphere, the case falls to Investigator Mossa. This leads her to her old lover, Pleiti, a scholar of Earth’s pre-collapse ecosystems. The two of them are on the chase while exploring the resurrection of their old relationship. There are lots of plot twists and revelations along the way.

Despite the wildly exotic setting, I struggled to connect with the characters and their motivations.  Mossa is enigmatic and aloof, emotionally opaque; that’s supposed to be part of her character. The contrast with Pleiti, who is highly emotional, shows how their different strengths combine to solve the mystery. However, Mossa’s distant, intellectual approach is not limited to her own viewpoint and work. It’s hard to imagine her as having feelings about anything. This bleeds into the crux of Pleiti’s work, indeed the decision the entire Jovian colony must make: what is the best way to design a rejuvenated Earth ecology? Put together known species, available in platform zoos, and let adaptation create new species and relationships, taking the risk that the combinations will fail? This approach would save enormous amounts of time, hastening the return to Earth. Or meticulously craft a system that replicates what thrived on Earth (“the mimicking of known successes” in the title), even though you can never be certain you got it right? And that it would take far longer, risking the extinction of preserved samples?

It’s a fascinating question, and the division of opinions drives the murder plot. Or ought to, because it’s presented as a distant, academic discussion, as dry and dusty as the university chambers. Therein lies my issue with this book. There’s too much relative emotional weight on the will-they-won’t-they relationship and almost none on the question upon which rests the fate of a future return to Earth. Nevertheless, the setting is fresh and original, the prose is clear, and the plot moves right along.

 

Guest Post: A Story’s Genesis: The Wind’s Kiss, by Dave Smeds

Readers often ask where the idea for a story came from. Here, veteran fantasy author Dave Smeds offers a peek behind the scenes in the creation of his wonderful short fiction piece, "The Wind's Kiss." Its first publication was in Lace and Blade 4, which I edited. It's a marvelous story, exquisitely written, full of pitch-perfect heart. Now it's also available in Dave's collection Swords, Magic, and Heart (see the cover below). 

A Story’s Genesis: The Wind’s Kiss
by Dave Smeds

The headstone — as you can see in the photograph I’ve included here — stood alone, at least thirty paces from any other marker in the little one-acre graveyard. Still, it was there, intact and still upright, and I was grateful for that fact. The cemetery had been used for less than four decades, from its founding in 1881 to the final burial in 1920. Once the small chapel on the accompanying acre ceased to exist, no one consigned their loved ones to rest there. The place became so forgotten that its decorative lilac bushes grew into a huge patch, concealing nearly all of the stones. People would drive right and be unaware of the nature of the site, even though they could have thrown a tennis ball out a window and the ball could easily have landed on one of the graves. Nowadays local volunteers keep the shrubbery trimmed and mow the turf. If not for that, even I, who knew where to go, might have struggled to find it.

I had always meant to stop there, sooner or later. The problem was, I had kept saying to myself that I would do it when I happened to be passing through Nebraska. But given that I live in California and always have, I reached my sixtieth birthday having found no occasion in my adult life when I had cause to be “just passing through” Nebraska. My path-of-least-resistance approach was inadequate. I had to make the goal a bucket-list item.

In 2016, I was in Kansas City, MO to attend the World Science Fiction Convention. My wife joined me on the final day, and the next morning off we went on a long, snaking course to visit family graves in not only Nebraska, but South Dakota and Iowa as well — all three of them states outside the scope of previous explorations on my part, or hers. We arrived at the lonely little graveyard on the third day, reaching it about ten minutes after we had rolled through the forlorn village of Creighton, population 1125. After paying our respects, we would go north about three miles to Winnetoon, population 63. Vacant as those communities were, we would see encounter smaller ones the next day, including, as we crossed into South Dakota, the hamlet of Wewela, population FIVE.

A personal note from Deborah

Lovely friends, I haven't been around much lately except for the occasional book review or shared post. I've been dealing with a ton of LifeStuff, including taking care of a basal cell carcinoma (excised, clear margins, yay!) and upcoming knee replacement surgery, which is scheduled for first thing Monday (Oct. 14) morning. I expect to come home the same day, assuming I can eat, walk, and pee. (Isn't there a book by that title?)

Good thoughts are always welcome. Meanwhile, take good care of yourselves and tell the folk who are important to you that you love them.

Blessings, Deborah

Guest Post: Writer Brain: Artificial Not So Intelligence, by Judith Tarr

Writer Brain: Artificial Not So Intelligence 

by Judith Tarr

The authorsphere has been rumbling for a while about the hot! new! shiny! tech! that has all the bros so excited they’re shoving it into everything and making it difficult to impossible to opt out. Generative AI is supposed to save the world. Take the work out of work. Replace the struggling human brain with a set of prompts. Instant art, hardly any waiting.

This isn’t the artificial sentience of Murderbot or the Justice of Toren or even Star Trek’s Computer. It’s basically a wood chipper, but for words and images. Dump them all in, hope something useful comes out.

The problem is, at this stage in its evolution, what’s mostly coming out is garbage. A book on mushrooms that labels a deadly variety safe and delicious. Sources for academic papers that don’t exist, or are garbled or distorted. “Art” that’s off in subtle and not so subtle ways—humans with extra fingers, rooms with weirdly angled walls and ceilings, skies that never existed on this planet. It’s getting so you can’t trust anything you see online.

It's not just that the thing is not ready for prime time. It’s that it’s being pushed hard, and it’s being backed with buckets and buckets of money. Billions. For basically faery gold.

And even worse than that, it needs massive amounts of energy to run. They’re actually talking about reopening nuclear plants in order to generate enough power for the huge surge of AI that the big tech companies are avidly investing in.

All of that is bad in the way of absolute decadence. A culture so far along in its devolution that it indulges in orgies of extravagance signifying effectively nothing.

So what’s the point?

Or rather, where’s it all coming from? What’s going into the chipper? How is it being trained to come out with its confident pronouncements of, all too often, deceptive nonsense?

That’s where the authorsphere, and the artistsphere along with it, is raising some good and holy hell. Because authors’ and artists’ work is being scraped as it’s called, swept up and dumped into the chipper. And it’s not being acknowledged or compensated. It’s being stolen, in a word. As one bro lamented, “How can we make money off AI if we have to pay for the source material?”

Short Book Reviews: An Occult Mexican Horror Film Thriller

 Silver Nitrate, by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (Del Rey)

Silvia Moreno-Garcia is an amazing writer, bringing together sympathetic (if wonderfully weird) characters, pitch-perfect tropes, and Mexican settings. I adore some of her books more than others, but they’re all really good reads. I didn’t connect immediately with Silver Nitrate but when it grabbed me, it didn’t let go until the breathless finish.

Here, Moreno-Garcia throws together an unlikely pair of lifelong friends (ungainly sound editor Montserrat and tarnished but swoon-worthy soap-opera star Tristán), the 1930s Mexican horror movie industry, Nazi white supremacist obsession with the occult, and magic ignited by movies made with highly flammable silver nitrate film stock. And it all works. Brilliantly.

Just about the time Montserrat finds herself on the way out of a job in a 1990s Mexico City film studio, Tristán takes up with his elderly neighbor, reclusive legendary horror cult director, Abel. Abel convinces the two friends to help him finish a movie that was imbued with magic by a Nazi occultist. Intrigued although skeptical of the claims of the cult’s supernatural powers, Montserrat and Tristán agree. This is when things begin, slowly but with gathering speed, to go seriously pear-shaped.

Glimpses into the lower echelons of the film industry, peeks into a subgenre I never knew existed (Mexican horror films), and two compelling characters carried me along as hints and nuances deepened and formed ever more horrific connections. By the time Tristán started seeing the ghost of his dead girlfriend, it was clear we “weren’t in Kansas anymore.” As with her other works, Moreno-Garcia’s prose is strong and vivid, and she handles relationships as well as thriller-paced action with consummate skill.

To Everyone on the New Year