Shock The Creator

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

There are two areas of practice where I say, “if something doesn’t shock you, you’re not doing it right.”  One is spiritual practice, and the other is worldbuilding.  Today, I’ll focus on the latter, if only to save you from me discussing psychology and minutae of Taoist breathing exercises.

Every author brings themselves to their worldbuilding because there’s no one else to bring.  Even if authors think they’re expanding on ideas created by someone else (such as the way Richard Florida influenced me), that’s not true.  Writing about someone else’s ideas means you’re writing about your idea of their idea.  The author (you) is inseparable from worldbuilding.

The problem with bringing ourselves into worldbuilding is we may quash our imaginations.  We come with our preconceptions about people, politics, history, and our inspirations.  When our creativity takes us “off script,” it’s too easy to force our way back onto the expected path.

I think we do this because when you worldbuild, you ask questions – I should know, I write worldbuilding books that are just questions.  The problem with asking questions is you’re going to get answers, and you won’t always like them.  Worldbuilding means thinking about big issues that can lead to uncomfortable conclusions about ourselves, our creations, and the real world.

I’d say when that happens, good because worldbuilding should shock you.  When thinking about politics, gods, science, or whatever your mind will go places.  You should be surprised by some of your conclusions because you’re thinking very big picture – in a way the biggest picture.  That shock is a sign you’ve challenged yourself, which might be good.

I’m not saying every disturbing thing that comes to mind is a good idea in your worldbuilding.  Not everything shocking is true, despite what many Internet Reply People think.  But those ideas came from inside of you while you work on a very intimate process – something is going on there you want to explore.  The fact it surprised you may well mean there was real inspiration there.

For myself, I can point right at my Avenoth novels, which are very political in their own way.  This post-post-apocalyptic fantasy series contains some of my politics and feelings about society.  It would take a lot to detail here, but suffice to say the core idea is “any survivable society is scaled, interconnected, and has people consciously keeping it running.”

But there was an unpleasant dark side that shocked me – and that I kept.  This society survived a massive world war that killed three-quarters of the population.  It is a society that also had “warrior lodges” and “monster hunters” that were designed to parody fantasy tropes.  Finally, the great devastating war ended with a massive, murderous military action committed by a loose alliance that was tired of fifty years of death.

This peaceful society came out of bloody history and built peace.  But it had to cope with violence.

Thus violence was recognized and ritualized.  Warrior Lodges became mixtures of mercenaries and sports teams (it’s easy to arrest someone when you’re on a trading card).  Some professions were trained and allowed to use violence and weapons if needed, such as the relic-hunting pair of Marigold and Scintilla.  Government agencies subsumed monster hunting orders, embodied by the warhorse character Briar.  It was a society that didn’t avoid violence so much as channel it.

I found this disturbing at first because my creation normalized violence.  Watching people beat each other up with fancy weapons to place bets?  Weird orders that recruited traumatized people into their ranks is considered normal?  Disturbing, yet these elements rang true, and I kept them – and probably learned more about myself and societies.

These elements were not just good worldbuilding, they added to the story.  Marigold and Scintilla were disgusted with the old orders because someone had tried to recruit them.  Students of the pair sported badges on their robes denoting their favorite Warrior Lodges.  Complex regulations about weapon use came to the fore so Scintilla and Briar could ignore them.

I was shocked.  My worldbuilding was better for it.

So next time you’re busy creating a new world, watch for those moments you surprise yourself unpleasantly.  A bolt from the blue may have struck you, and once you stop reeling, odds are you’ve found something worth keeping.

Steven Savage

Craft and Cash

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

I’m all for people doing what they like as a job.  It’s usually not what they think, and it is a job, but it’s nice to see.  I even write about do-what-you like, and every now and then, I note that it’s not for everyone.

This is one of those times thanks to Serdar and a discussion on how education for creatives assumes the goal is “make money at it” way too often.  I realized there’s a parallel – books and training that assumes your interest is absolute perfection of your craft, even if your thought is just “I want a job.”

We need to ask what fits our audience.

Being good at your creative path is about craft.  It’s knowing the right words, it’s learning how to do shading, it’s getting that stitch in a costume just right.  Your chosen creative path may be about being good at getting to a result that fits your creative goals.

The money may not matter.  Or, perhaps, it shouldn’t, and you’d be happier if you just did your craft.

Being good at making money at your creative path is about more than craft.  It’s marketing and advertising, job hunting and writing to market.  In some cases, the craft of “doing it as well as possible” is secondary to barely a concern.

Making money at something may not require the highest craft, and it may even be a barrier.  I can point you at many a greasy spoon that may not provide haute cuisine, but they’re delicious.

Think about crappy novels you’ve mocked, TV shows that made you wonder, “how did this go five seasons?” and so on.  How come these things sold?  How come they’re not good yet they make bank?  Couldn’t anyone churn out that bad light novel?

The answer is no because craft and making money at it aren’t the same thing.  Sure, they intersect, but not in ways that may immediately make sense.  A well-written novel may languish, but a simple potboiler with simple language can be a bestseller as the author’s craft was write what will sell before writing “well.”

This is where I’d like to see classes, advice books, etc. make distinctions – if only to be clearer who their market is.  Sometimes you want to be good at your craft, sometimes you want to make money, and sometimes you want to explore that borderland.  Those giving advice will be better at it if they consider the many motivations that lead people to their door.

This is where I’m glad for my Way With Worlds series.  There’s no focus on monetization or careers, just on asking world-building questions.  People are free to pick and choose what advice they need, and I’m not interested in “what worlds sell.”  Maybe that’s why they feel so liberating to write – they’re all about craft after I’ve done many career books.

Any of us sharing creative advice need to ask where our works stand on the craft and monetization scale.  The creative world would be a better place for it.

Steven Savage

The Seventy/Thirty Question

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

There’s a book called DIY MFA which argues you don’t need an MFA to be a writer.  Instead one needs to a roadmap to developing skills, analyzing writing, and networking.  A lofty promise, but one I felt the book fulfilled, though some of it seemed very “standard” to me.

After some thought I realized of course some of the book seemed simple and standard – those were the parts I already knew.  Perhaps seventy percent of the book was things I knew (if not always did), but the other thirty percent was invaluable.  I had to wade through seventy percent to get the thirty I never thought of.

It was totally worth it.

I think this seventy/thirty rule is why writing conferences, guides, and meetups can seem repetitive to many.  Must we have another discussion of grammar, of romance tropes, of cover design?  Why must we hear something that I or we already know?

I myself have had these experiences.  I was wrong.

Writer events and groups cover seemingly repetitive subjects because we all have different seventy percent (do know) and thirty percent (don’t know).  Some of us are operating at fifty-fifty, and others are at ninety-ten and unable to fill in that last ten percent.

As we share with our fellow writers, let’s have some compassion and remember we all know things – and we all have gaps.

That means if you do know something, then share it.  There will be people who want to learn from you, even on subjects you consider pedestrian or repetitive.  Your seventy percent is their thirty percent – and you might just be the person that explains the lessons to them in a way that sticks.

This also means neither you nor anyone else should feel guilty requesting or attending classes on subjects that seem basic or cover the same ground.  You have your thirty percent of ignorance and for others, there’s probably overlap.  Stand up and ask to learn because I guarantee you’re not alone.

Let me close with a suggestion.  Create a list of things you’re competent at as a writer and things you could do better at.  Ask what you can share with your fellow creatives – and where you can boldly ask for help.

Your fellows might not just help you and be helped, but learn about their seventy and thirty as well.

Steven Savage