A lesson in a line

Read­ing in bed last night, I came across this gem:

It is always a temp­ta­tion to say that such feel­ings are inde­scrib­able, though they sel­dom are.
— Gene Wolfe, The Sword of the Lic­tor (vol. III in the Book of the New Sun tetral­o­gy), chap­ter XXII: “The Skirts of the Mountain” 

In a sin­gle line the author evis­cer­at­ed a fair­ly com­mon trope in SF/F writ­ing. Now and for­ev­er after, when I read a sen­tence stat­ing that X was inde­scrib­able or refer­ring to an inde­scrib­able colour or an inde­scrib­able feel­ing, I’m going to won­der: Is it real­ly inde­scrib­able, though, or is the author sim­ply not inter­est­ed enough to describe it to me?

I’ve tak­en the les­son to heart, though: from here on out I’ll be doing my best to excise inde­scrib­able from my own lexicon.

Series: Gene Wolfe

The entire series: The Gold­en Sen­tence; A les­son in a line; Inde­scrib­able; My head­’s swim­ming now; The Island of Dr. Death.

World-building

There’s an arti­cle on io9.com ask­ing whether The Phan­tom Men­ace has bet­ter world-build­ing than Star Wars 1. The debate, in my mind, boils down to this: Show vs. Tell. Every book, every arti­cle on writ­ing that I’ve ever read stressed one core rule for expo­si­tion, and by exten­sion for world-build­ing 2: Show, don’t tell.

Char­lie Jane Anders, the author of the io9 piece, comes down in favour of Show, don’t tell. She shares my view that the orig­i­nal film had far bet­ter world-build­ing than the first pre­quel, because Star Wars showed you the world you were in, with lit­tle pieces in vir­tu­al­ly every scene, where­as The Phan­tom Men­ace told you most of what you “need­ed” to know, either in the open­ing crawl or in “as you know, Bob” 3-style dia­logue.

I much pre­fer my sci­ence fic­tion — actu­al­ly, any fic­tion — to stay clear of too many giant expos­i­to­ry infor­ma­tion dumps. (One series that kind of annoyed me for this rea­son was the Hype­r­i­on Can­tos by Dan Sim­mons — the sto­ry was flow­ing along pret­ty well, and then the final book fea­tured a lengthy chap­ter that was essen­tial­ly one char­ac­ter explain­ing the sto­ry to a group of oth­er (and, by proxy, the read­er). It stopped every hint of for­ward momen­tum, and it let me down, I feel, as a reader.)

Here’s a list of nov­els & series that I think did their world-build­ing right:

  • Frank Her­bert’s amaz­ing Dune saga 4
  • Michael Swan­wick­’s Sta­tions of the Tide
  • William Gib­son’s nov­els — I have a soft place in my heart for the Sprawl tril­o­gy, especially
  • Joe Halde­man’s For­ev­er War
  • Stephen King’s Dark Tow­er saga — the open­ing line spoke vol­umes: “The man in black fled across the desert, and the gun­slinger followed.”

Look­ing at my list, it seems that I like sto­ries that dump me into the sto­ry in the mid­dle — in media res, as they say — and then let me build the world in my own mind as I read.

What about you? Where have you seen/read excep­tion­al world-building?


  1. Fine, fine, A New Hope
  2. Real­ly, world-build­ing is a class of expo­si­tion, one that requires as light a touch as any oth­er. 
  3. “As you know, Bob, the Force is car­ried by sym­bi­ot­ic blood­stream par­a­sites called oh look the entire audi­ence is snooz­ing now.” 
  4. Nope, not the pre­quels. They would have made me hap­pi­er by sim­ply pub­lish­ing Frank’s notes. 

Brandon Genre Reading

This com­ing week­end, I’ll be one of four sci­ence-fic­tion and fan­ta­sy authors read­ing at Bran­don Uni­ver­si­ty’s Ele­phant Room. I’ll be read­ing a few dif­fer­ent things — a short sto­ry, a cou­ple micro-sto­ries, and an excerpt from my novel-in-progress.

Who’s all reading

  • Shen Braun, a con­trib­u­tor to Tesser­acts 15
  • Chad­wick Ginther, author of Thun­der Road [curs­es, I still haven’t reviewed that — sor­ry, Chad­wick] and a con­trib­u­tor to Tesser­acts 16
  • Craig Rus­sell, author of Black Bot­tle Man [my review]
  • Patrick Johan­neson, a con­trib­u­tor to Tesser­acts 14

Bran­don Uni­ver­si­ty’s Cam­pus Books will have copies on hand of Tesser­acts 14 through 16, Black Bot­tle Man, and Thun­der Road on hand for pur­chase. I can’t speak for the oth­er three 1, but I’ll hap­pi­ly sign what­ev­er you put in front of me.

Cof­fee, juice, water, and light snacks will be on hand. See you there!


  1. That said, I’d be sur­prised if they were unwill­ing to sign things. 

Apprenticeship Reading

Since Jan­u­ary, I’ve been men­tor­ing two six­teen-year-old appren­tices, Becky & Tan­ner, in cre­ative writ­ing under a pro­gram by ACI. It’s been a great time, and we’ve cov­ered a lot of ground: char­ac­ter devel­op­ment, world-build­ing, plot out­lin­ing, essay writ­ing, the whole copy­right / licens­ing / Cre­ative Com­mons imbroglio, edit­ing, tax­es and what you can legit­i­mate­ly claim, infi­nite libraries, and a pile of oth­er topics.

Today, we held a small friends-and-fam­i­ly read­ing. I read my short sto­ry Exit Inter­view, Becky read a 2nd-per­son short sto­ry (“The Great Ant Race”) and a snip­pet from her nov­el-in-progress The Cigám Tri­ad, and Tan­ner gave a pre­sen­ta­tion titled “Why the Edu­ca­tion Sys­tem Sucks”, which was about the dif­fer­ence between inter­est and pas­sion, and how the edu­ca­tion sys­tem needs a rev­o­lu­tion to nur­ture the latter.

It was a great end to a fan­tas­tic expe­ri­ence. I intend to stay in touch with my appren­tices, and I look for­ward to read­ing and hear­ing more of their work.

Thanks, ACI, for this oppor­tu­ni­ty. And thanks, Becky and Tan­ner, for being great appren­tices, or men­tal­ists, or man­a­tees, or what­ev­er the right word is.

To Do list

Things I should do in the next while:

  • Make a list
  • Laun­dry
  • Install some project man­age­ment soft­ware and start using it for per­son­al projects
  • Go through the cards I got on my busy week­end and con­nect up
  • New theme for my site
  • Write, write, write
  • Prep for my readings

Addendum

  • Run some numbers

Sassy’s

When I saw they were tear­ing Sassy’s down, my first thought was Oh, no.

day 314_sassy demolition

…I have a scene set in there in my novel-in-progress.

(It’s one of the places where the under­ground dwellers can come up above ground.)


Sassy’s, for the unini­ti­at­ed, is was a down­town-Bran­don dive bar.  For a long time it was a strip club, and by all accounts not a classy one. It’s the only place I’ve ever actu­al­ly gone to see the strippers—during my low-key bach­e­lor par­ty, when we set the drink spe­cial at a piz­za joint, then drank mul­ti­coloured drinks at the bowl­ing alley—but that’s a sto­ry for anoth­er day.

Sassy’s also played host to the local instance of the smalls’ “Good­bye For­ev­er” tour, to which I scored free tick­ets by putting up posters around the uni­ver­si­ty. The strip­per pole was gone, but the ceil­ing mir­rors had­n’t been torn down.  The smalls played on a stage that I pre­sume had been thor­ough­ly cleaned.