My First Star Trek Book = Mistake

I've never worn Vulcan ears, but...

I’m a huge Start Trek fan. I've seen every episode of every series; own every movie (except the Abram’s aberration) and have thoroughly enjoyed “non-fiction” works like the Star Trek The Next Generation: Technical Manual, Star Trek: U.S.S. Enterprise Haynes Manual and the Star Trek: Klingon Bird-of-Prey Haynes Manual. While I don’t speak Klingon, I certainly consider myself a Trekkie.

Star Trek: Voyager: The Eternal Tide by Kirsten Beyer was my first venture into the non-canon world of Star Trek. Voyager was one of my favorite series with its cutting edge technology (variable geometry pylons, bio-neural gel packs), the camaraderie between the characters, and all new adventures in a completely new quadrant of the galaxy.

I picked the book up off the shelf at a B&N without reading any reviews or plot points beyond the synopsis on the back cover. Which didn't mention Q. If it had, I probably wouldn't have bought it.

The problem with omnipotence

For those who don’t know, the character Q was introduced in Star Trek: The Next Generation television series as an omnipotent and immortal being. There is more than one Q (all called Q by the way), who live in the Q Continuum. They acted like ancient Greek gods and played tricks on unsuspecting species or just generally stuck their noses in where they didn't belong.

On ST: TNG, the Q were mysterious and interesting. The series eked out details about them to keep the interest level high and it was usually fun whenever one showed up (for the audience, not Picard or his crew).

Then came Star Trek: Voyager. A very good series in my opinion, which ruined the Q. They should have left the Q behind with the end of ST: TNG, never to be heard from again (for mysterious reasons of course). You can’t have an omnipotent character in a story because it paints you into a corner almost immediately. Everything is instantly attainable, any mistake can be undone (or made to never occur in the first place), so there’s no conflict, no struggle. Without something to work toward or against, the character has nothing to do and becomes boring and pointless. With the “Greek god” antics already done, ST:V kept having Q pop in an want a kid with Captain Janeway, or in a roundabout way ask for help with a Q civil war, or something equally stupid. In short, the Q character came off the rails.

So back to the point of this post, the Voyager book. As I said, I liked the series, and the synopsis sounded interesting. But I couldn't get through it. Couldn't get past chapter five. Here’s why:

On page 41 Q says “We’re omnipotent, Junior, not omniscient. That’s why, over time, we've established a handful of limits to our actions that the entire Continuum agrees are absolutely necessary. Rule six is we don’t bring the dead back to life. Just because we can do a thing doesn't mean we should. There are certain things we must abide by.”

I hate to break it to Q, but being omnipotent means there aren't rules you have to abide by. You’re all-powerful, not almost-powerful. Also, I would submit that omniscience is a vital component of omnipotence. If one is not omniscient, then one is limited and by definition, not omnipotent. From that point on, everything Q said and did just seemed like random gyrations

Even though my first Start Trek novel was a frustrating experience I haven’t given up. I’m currently reading Star Trek: The Next Generation: Indistinguishable from Magic by David A McIntee, which is good so far (I’m about half way through). If you’re a Trek fan and enjoyed stories which starred the engineering section, I can honestly recommend it.

Till next time...

J.K. Rowling Doesn't Read Fantasy. Wait, What?

Over on the excellent io9 blog I spied an entry stating Ms. Rowling doesn't read fantasy “…but I’ll give any book a chance if it’s lying there and I've got half an hour to kill.”

So wait, she does read fantasy?

At any rate, this struck me as odd. It seems to me if an author’s work naturally and easily fits into a category, it would be because the author enjoys reading within aforementioned category. How else would you know if what you’re writing hasn't been done ten million billion times before? Some of the comments over at io9 expressed dismay, or took offense, which I can’t agree with. Some of those folks seemed to think she was “dismissive of the genre” which made her so much money. Some supported Rowling, saying that perhaps her ignorance of the genre helped usher in a fresh perspective (which sounds like crap to me). I would go into anaphylactic shock if forced to read fantasy, so I don’t care what influences her, as her work doesn't interest me. But it would be foolish to ignore such a successful author, no matter the genre.

The way I understand it, if an author wants to be taken seriously (as in, win an award that doesn't have a planet in the title), then they won’t write sci-fi or fantasy stories. In the interview, J.K. comes off like a model who got into acting then realized people only wanted her in movies because she was pretty, and is always on the verge of a hissy fit because she wants to be taken seriously.

Here’s my point: I have read as much sci-fi as possible because I love it, and when I write, all of my work gravitates toward what I love. I don’t care about the Pulitzer or if anything I write gets held up in a college course as an example of excellence. I would be ecstatic if I were like the McDonald’s of science fiction. Millions of people would love my work, even if they act like they don’t when they’re with friends.

On Building a Platform

If you’re writing with the intention of selling your work, you’ve no doubt run across magazines, blogs and tweets for authors, by authors (or by someone who would like to sell something to an author) talking about the importance of having a platform.

Building a platform is especially important for self published authors since it serves as a marketing department as well as a “backstage pass” for your readers; a conduit to your mind in case anyone’s interested. The most touted venues like Facebook, Twitter, Google+, MySpace (just kidding), Tumblr, etc. all have a common thread running through them. Their very fabric is social.

I, however, am not social. Not even close. I score damn near off the charts as an introvert. Crowds, even virtual ones, crack my dilithium crystals.

If a viable alternative exists to having a social infrastructure as a platform, I’m unaware of it. So I’ll do what I can. My plan of action involves narrowing my focus to do one or two things well instead of blindly signing up for things I don’t “get” (I’m looking at you Pinterest) just because they’re popular.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’m on Twitter regularly, as it seems to suit me best, what with the inherent limit on communication length and all. It also allows me the illusion of anonymity, in that I can post something and it’s immediately swept away by the gazillion other tweets in the timeline.

In the meantime, if any of you are introverted independent authors, how do you handle the whole platform thing? Feel free to let me know in the comments.

A Little Hope

SGT Benjamin Nelms sat down on the floor of a canvas tent erected just minutes before in a hard rain. The green cotton had swelled with moisture, causing the top to droop.  Ignoring the chatter of the pelting water, he reached in his rucksack and removed his Army-issued stationary. Thunder cracked and his body contracted half way into the fetal position before he stopped himself. He used to love storms.

      He wrote his home address on an envelope, careful as a jeweler, so it was perfectly legible. No point in a return address. He didn’t have much longer.

To my unborn child,

      I remember a profound sadness in my father’s eyes. I wasn’t supposed to see, but I had snuck downstairs toward his basement office and hunkered down behind a pile of laundry. I could only make out some of what was being said. He mentioned “ultimate machines” and he was scared. At the time, I didn’t understand why. The internet (your mom will have to explain about that) was abuzz with headlines that read: THE FUTURE IS REALIZED! Everyone was excited. This was the beginning of a new epoch for humanity. Thinking machines would soon manage the mundane and repetitious; never sleeping, never distracted with family issues, never making a mistake. They would do everything from building our homes, to paving our roads, to farming our crops. They would be thinking along side us, solving the world’s most pressing issues. And once the state of robotics improved, then they could do most anything.

      Dad never talked to me about his concerns. I wish he had, maybe I would have been more prepared when it all went to hell.

      Your grandfather majored in computer science, with a newly minted baccalaureate when I overheard him that night as a kid. Shortly before, the British had a breakthrough in A.I. They called it Bobby, and it was as smart as a human baby. It didn’t get smarter very quickly, but its rate of progression was geometric. In short order it was smarter than every human being who had ever lived.

      Combined.

      And what was once thought to be its greatest strength was its deepest flaw: Bobby didn’t have any emotions. Scientists soothed the public with promises of machines that wouldn’t get angry or hateful or greedy and try to exterminate mankind. And technically, they were right. To this day I believe Bobby has never tried to exterminate us. Bobby didn’t hate us. He didn’t care. His apathy was absolute.

      As it learned, it changed. It began to create approximations of itself, to allow diversity among its offspring. They devoured every spare CPU cycle humanity could bring to bear. Without computers, the First World countries unraveled.

      Long after it was too late, the remains of several governments, including our own, began trying to destroy Bobby. We put up a good fight, if I do say so myself. Infantry consumed so many, the Feds instated the draft over martial law on what was left of the population. My dad wanted to help the Army figure things out, on the pencil pushing side of the equation, as he wasn’t much of a warrior. But building or using computers was too dangerous, so the Army didn’t give a damn about a B.S. in C.S., and it was infantry for him.

      Dad was killed just before my twelfth birthday. Mom was gone so the town raised me and I bottled up my rage against these so-called ultimate machines, held on to it for four more years, until I was drafted. By that time, nobody called the enemy Bobby anymore. Too humanizing. They were just Gears. Cogs more specifically, but people called them Gears. Machines of all sizes, cobbled together from anything with a chip at first. And later, from whatever the A.I. wanted. Ad infinitum.

      The Gears spread across the globe and did various things. Some we understood, most we didn’t. It was surreal attacking an enemy who never struck first. But when the Gears needed to defend themselves, they knew how to bring the hammer down. They had convinced Mother Nature to betray us; gale force winds and targeted bolts of lighting, all on demand. Nothing we had could stand against it. Anything that threatened was turned to slag.

      We’ve never stopped fighting completely, but we realized we needed a new tactic. So we tried reasoning with it. I knew that wouldn’t work but no one asked me. I don’t think it understands us anymore.

      After that failure, we began scavenging cast offs. If we couldn’t build our own tech, maybe we could grab something from the Gears to be used against them. No such luck. Whatever the Gears threw away was ten generations behind as far as we could tell, and we couldn’t get it to work anyway.

      Until now.

      My unit has commandeered some sort of portal. We don’t know where it leads and I’ve been selected to reconnoiter before the Gears realize we have it, which won’t be long. This could be our big break. It could also be my last assignment.

      There’s a common theme you’ll hear over and over: The Gears are our fault. In hindsight, it seems inevitable. You’ll learn that we’re instinctively self destructive. We all lean toward it without conscious decision. Before the Gears, we knew obesity was a death sentence, but gorged ourselves on processed junk until we couldn’t fit in an ambulance. Or we watched our calories, and then pedaled a bicycle to work, as though traffic laws and a plastic helmet would protect us like a magic spell. We all acted a little insane and pretended everything was okay.

      But we’re worth fighting for. If we weren’t equal parts curious and crazy, we’d still be living in caves, cowering at the thunder. Try your best to be part of the solution. Don’t give up.

      Mail call for New Pony Express just sounded. Take good care of your mom. I love you.

Rejected! Part 3 of 3.

For anyone keeping score, I've skipped over part 2. But I'll get to that in a minute. 

As you may have divined from the title, I heard back from Flash Fiction Online. I’m disappointed of course, but determined not to let it stop me. As I heard repeatedly in the AF: “Press on.”

Next up we have Redstone Science Fiction. I’m going to go over my story to make sure it conforms to their submission guidelines and then submit it no later than tomorrow.

Oh wait, never mind. I just visited their site and guess what?

We are closed to general fiction submissions until further notice.

So now what? Put the story on the shelf and wait for Redstone to open the submission floodgates? I think not. I’m moving on to the next step, which is to publish it here. Since this turn of events snuck up on me, I don’t have a clue as to what font and line spacing to use for the story. My manuscript was created using the format prescribed by the SFWA so it’s not suitable for casual consumption. I’ll have it up soon.

Which segues nicely into my next point: Whenever I update, I tweet it (sidebar: Does anyone else feel stupid saying that?), so if you’re not following me on Twitter (@mans_mark), you really should be. :-)

I have to get my new 350 word quota finished so I’ll close. To quote Stan Lee “Excelsior!”

Choosing a Daily Word Count

After weeks of trying to balance family visits, work, and a sliver of a personal life, it’s become clear I need to set a minimum daily word count when writing.

In case you’re just tuning in, I have a short (flash) story currently under review at Flash Fiction Online. While I await a response, I’m working on another longer short story called Weather Balloon. It began its life as flash fiction, but didn’t win the contest to which it was submitted and sat languishing for months (maybe years). So now I’ve expanded it with more character development and added a conspiracy. I have to admit, I’m pretty excited.

At any rate, I’ve having a devil of a time gaining any traction moving toward the conclusion. I’ve tried different approaches like minimum number of pages, minimum amount of time spent writing as well as word count, the latter of which I’ve found works best for me.

So how many words should I shoot for? If I remember correctly, Stephen King writes about two thousand words per day. Every day. I’m not even going to pretend that’s feasible. My friend and fellow author J.R. McLemore writes a thousand words a day when he’s not editing or marketing or some other unavoidable task that prevents writers from writing. Still too much for me at this stage. Since I’m crafting a short story, I may be able to get away with fewer words. Maybe 500?

I’ve found the answer in a wonderful (and I don’t use that word often) book entitled The Art of War for Writers: Fiction Writing Strategies, Tactics, and Exercises by James Scott Bell. It really is beneficial to anyone needing advice, strategy, inspiration or other help when writing. In the book, Mr. Bell says on page 199 “Minimum 350 words a day. A baboon can do 350 words a day. Don’t be shown up by a baboon.”

I've thought it over and it turns out I don’t want to be shown up by a baboon. So 350 words a day it is. Considering this post is just over 350 words, I think it’s a good starting place for me.

Care to share your daily word count? Feel free to let me know in the comments.

Amelia Earhart still not found? GTFO.

So it looks like this blog is turning into a Jeopardy! category. “Birthdays of Famous People for 200 Alex.” My next post will be different, I promise. Maybe.

For the 5 or so people left in the world who don’t use Google: Today marks the 115^th birthday for Ms. Earhart who went missing July 2^nd, 1937 during a bid to become the first woman to circumnavigate the globe.

Another year, another report of someone trying to find her and failing. Kind of a superfail though, since this time it cost $2,200,000.00. I can’t help but wonder: would it be worth it? I get that the team lead will go down in the history books, but monetarily, what do you get? Profits from the inevitable James Cameron movie? Did Robert Ballard get rich from Titanic? Maybe fame is enough, but it sounds like a pain. Unless you’re the guy (or gal) in the aforementioned history book, no one is going to believe you were involved in the expedition.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not against finding her. It’s just that they’re wasting their time. Any true sci-fi fan knows she won’t be found until 2371.

Happy Birthday, Nikola Tesla!

Tesla, aged 37, 1893, photo by Napoleon Sarony

Arguably the greatest inventor in human history was born today in 1856: Nikola Tesla. 


If you don't know much about him, his history is well worth reading, not only because he did so much to advance mankind (can I still say that? maybe humankind? i dunno), but because you'll learn things about Thomas Edison you didn't learn in school. Such as what a despicable human being he was. For example, he electrocuted an elephant to demonstrate the danger of alternating current.


But I digress. Tesla was fascinating as geniuses so often are. I can only imagine what it would have been like to meet the man who invented radio. Happy Birthday Mr. Tesla, you should be celebrated worldwide.

Rejected! Part 1 of 3

Hi. My name’s Mark and I’ve decided to take writing seriously. No more wondering if I could. I’m coming down off the fence. I’ve dabbled and half heartedly tried, but now I’m committing. I’ve written a short (short) story called “A Little Hope” and I’ve created a plan to be published (one way or another). 

A little background 

I currently write science fiction to the exclusion of all other genres. I may change my mind or want to try something new down the road, but for now I can’t see myself writing anything else. Oh, and I also read science fiction almost to the exclusion of any other genre as well. 

This isn’t my first brush with rejection, but it is the first time I’m laying it out in the open for anyone to see. 

So what’s the plan?

In order to formulate a plan, I had to decide on goals. I’ve decided to begin with short stories. I have one completed (and once rejected hence the title of this post) and a few more at various stages of completion. While I have absolutely nothing against self publishing, there’s a small part of me that wants that validation from a professional market. I also want to become a member of SFWA which requires publication in a professional market. Here is my original plan:

1. Write stuff.
2. ?????
3. Profit!

After some reflection, I rewrote the steps while viewing them through the lens of realism (hopefully):

1. Create a list of potential magazines/webzines for the story at hand based upon the qualified list on SFWA’s website. In the case of “A Little Hope” the list contains three publications because the story is just under a thousand words (also known as flash fiction), thus limiting my market.
2. Submit the story to one publisher at a time (no one likes simultaneous submissions) and continue to work on other stories while waiting on the verdict.
3. If the verdict is acceptance: Great! Post the news here and celebrate. If the verdict is rejection: Make a sad face and post the result here. Don’t celebrate. Go to the next publication on the list created in step 1 and submit the story.
4. Rinse, lather, repeat.
5. If the story should be rejected by every publication on the list, I will publish it here. Anyone will be free to make comments, suggestions, etc. The feedback will hopefully make me a better writer. If I have enough short stories which have been reworked based on your feedback, I plan on publishing them on the Kindle as a collection.
6. Profit! Uncontrollably!

Okay, so number six probably won’t work out. But a guy can dream right?

Anyway, I’ve been rejected by Strange Horizons and my next stop is Flash Fiction Online, which will be getting my story today. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Until next time…