So right now I’m having fun reading Patricia Briggs’ Frost Burned–which I talked about in a “Just Arrived” post recently.

So how about you–what’s your weekend reading?

And are there any books you’ve heard particularly good buzz about recently and would like to share the tip?

The Wall of Night Series map; design by Peter Fitzpatrick

The A Geography of Haarth series features locales and places from The Wall of Night world of Haarth.

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Bonamark:  one of the seven marks of Emer; a shortening of Bonacon Mark

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 ‘Every other crossroads boasted a smithy or an inn, sure signs of prosperity, and the whole great valley of the Tenne, from the Bonamark border to the river Argent, was as fertile and peaceful as the River lands.’

~ from © The Gathering of the Lost: The Wall of Night Book Two; Chapter 30 — The Welcome Cup

Late last year, I was asked by SpecFicNZ to write an article for the organisation’s newsletter on my thoughts on blogging as  marketing tool. The subject has come up several times since then in different, but always related—discussion-wise—circumstances, so I thought I would re-post it here.

I would certainly be interested in hearing your thoughts, whether as a writer, a blogger, social media user, or even a marketer (if there are any marketers out there. 😉 )

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“On Blogging & The Interrelationship With Writing

So here’s the thing: I don’t believe blogging is a marketing tool for writing—and certainly not on its own, i.e. without some other force driving readership to the blog. If anything, my view is that more often than not it is one’s writing that drives readers to the blog, rather than the other way about. The exception would be the person who is already a social media personality or an established identity in another field, whether it is entertainment, politics, or simply an ‘other life’ as a social media maven.

You may query my “authority” for asserting this view and I will readily state that it is totally my subjective opinion and may be completely wrong. But it is a subjective opinion formed from nearly three years of blogging every day (with or without a spirit of “joyful exhilaration.”[1] It’s also based on what I understand with respect to some of the “big name” literary bloggers, such as John Scalzi and Neil Gaiman. For example, I have been told that John Scalzi already had a well-established reputation as a freelance (non fiction) writer and commentator before moving into fiction; consequently, a good deal of his following is grounded in those early roots. Neil Gaiman is a literary blogger—but had been writing graphic novels, novels, and screenplays for a considerable period before moving (extremely successfully) into the evolving social media realm. But my point is that he didn’t enter into social media to create an audience for his writing, but to extend what was already well established.

For the writer starting from scratch, therefore, my personal view is that a blog is unlikely to be that helpful in marketing one’s writing. As one’s writing becomes more successful though, I would expect blog visitor numbers to grow.

The catch, of course, is that creating a successful blog takes a lot of time, creative energy, and sheer hard work. So, too, does the writing that is most likely to generate blog visitors. The question the author has to ask her or himself, therefore, is do I want to spend that of time, creative energy, and sweat on building a blog or on my writing? Am I blogging to support my writing, or writing to support my blog? The answer to these questions will dictate how much time the writer should spend on either endeavour.

But if the author is blogging solely to market books, then my respectful suggestion is: “waste of time.” A quick look at the wide, wide world of the internet reveals that it is absolutely chock full of writers touting their wares via almost every social media mechanism possible. “Standing out” in the midst of all that would seem to be a task comparable to that of Hercules cleaning the Augean stables. One or two writers will get lucky, but most of us who are not demigods will simply get drowned in the flood—not to mention the “noise.”

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So why have a blog at all? In my view, a blog can function well in a number of ways.

Firstly—either in conjunction with or instead of a website—it can act as the social media equivalent of a shop front, with a post-box for mail: i.e. interested parties can use it to find out a bit about the blogger and what s/he has to offer, and get in touch directly if they want to go that far. Importantly though, the blog owner does not have to converse:  s/he has control over whether the shopfront door is locked or unlocked.

A second option is for the blog to act as a “front porch”—the place where the blogger hangs out so people can visit and talk about mutually interesting “stuff.” In other words, the blogger allows comments and hopes conversations may ensure. My “…on Anything, Really” blog is a “front porch.”

If the blogger wishes to use blogging in the same way the eighteenth century literati used coffee houses, i.e. to participate in a wider world of discussion and ideas, then s/he may have to either join or create a blog that becomes a destination, usually in conjunction with other like-minded folk. I would argue that the newly formed BookSworn site (of which I am a member) is a “coffee house” blogging option, while SF Signal, where I currently post once a month, is more of a SFF “town square.”

None of these options is about marketing though: they’re all primarily about communication, conversation, and community. To an extent, conversation and community may extend into networking, but only in an informal sense. And although communication, conversation, and establishing community may always be present in the mix that adds up to “marketing”, there is a great deal more to the “dark art” than that—and the two should never be confused for each other.

So for me, blogging is not about marketing at all. If one accepts that, then the questions around “why blog” and “how blog” hinge on how important communication, conversation, and community are to one’s writing, and how much time one wishes to take from that writing to achieve secondary goals.”

From next week, I hope to be starting a new “mini-post” series on the blog titled “Here’s SpecFicNZ-Christchurch.”

SpecFicNZ is the ” national association for creators, writers and editors of speculative fiction in or from New Zealand” and we have a lively local group here in Christchurch—so much so that I thought some of my blog readers might enjoy “‘meeting” the members.

The spirit of  the series is similar to that of my “Fun With Friends” interview series on SF Signal, which focuses on fellow New Zealand and Australian authors. “Here’s SpecFicNZ-Christchurch” will not be an interview series, however, but rather an opportunity for local members to introduce themselves using a series of headings:

• Here’s Who: a short, first person introduction to the writer

• Here’s Why: the writer writes speculative fiction, as opposed to any other genre

• Here’s What: an example of the writer’s work

• Here’s Where: you can find out more about the writer and their work

I am thrilled this series is happening and am looking forward to hosting my fellow SpecFicNZ-ers on “…Anything, Really.” 

If I have my nefarious way, the series will start next Wednesday, 24 April. So please do watch this space!

Angela Carter

And then your portrait on the back

so neutral and complete

standing full-length

posed I don’t remember where.

Eyes sky black

you stood unsmiling

suggesting there were realer worlds within.

Your books dealt much in mirrors

which might have led me to suppose

that you were one yourself

and I’d step through the flimsy sheet

that held you to your words

and turn and, face inside your face,

watch the empty space where I had been.
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© Tim Jones

Published in Boat People, HeadworX, 2008. Reproduced here with permission.

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As I noted in March 26th’s Tuesday Poem post, I am currently running a series of poems in response to works of art, which will include a note from the poet. This week’s poem and note is from Tim Jones.

You can find out more about Angela Carter by clicking on her name and reading Tim’s note.

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Poet’s Note: from Tim Jones

“When I was younger, I went through phases of intensively reading the entire oeuvre – or as much of the oeuvre as I could lay my hands on – of specific authors.

One such author was Angela Carter (1940-1992), who is probably now best known for her late novel Night at the Circus, but whose earlier novels veered closer to science fiction. At a time when I was finding out about feminism, I found Angela Carter’s strongly but unconventionally feminist fiction both fascinating and challenging. The photo that made such an impression on me was on the back cover of The Passion of New Eve, her 1977 science fiction novel (though “science fiction” is a pale term to use to describe Carter’s lush, highly symbolic fiction) – and the poem reflects my fascination with the questions of masculine and feminine identity found both in this novel and throughout Carter’s fiction.

I get the impression that Angela Carter’s fiction isn’t as well known or widely read twenty years after her death as it deserves to me. If you’d like to know more about her and her work, check out this Scriptorium profile of her by Jeff VanderMeer, or this shorter 2006 profile in the Independent (UK).“

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About the Poet:

Tim Jones is a poet and author of both science fiction and literary fiction who was awarded the New Zealand Society of Authors Janet Frame Memorial Award for Literature in 2010. He lives in Wellington, New Zealand. Among his recent books are fantasy novel Anarya’s Secret (RedBrick, 2007), short story collection Transported (Vintage, 2008), and poetry anthology Voyagers: Science Fiction Poetry from New Zealand (Interactive Press, 2009), co-edited with Mark Pirie. Voyagers won the “Best Collected Work” category in the 2010 Sir Julius Vogel Awards, and has been selected for the “Books On New Zealand” exhibition at the 2012 Frankfurt Book Fair. Tim’s most recent book is his third poetry collection, Men Briefly Explained, published by Interactive Press (IP) in late 2011. He is currently working on his third short story collection and, with P.S. Cottier, co-editing the anthology The Stars Like Sand: Australian Speculative Poetry, to be published in 2014.

To find out more about Tim and his work, visit his blog, Books In The Trees.

To read the featured poem on the Tuesday Poem Hub and other great poems from fellow Tuesday poets from around the world, click here or on the Quill icon in the sidebar.

UK/AUS/NZ

With the mass market edition of The Gathering Of The Lost recently published in the UK, I’ve been re-posting a few of the features from last year’s Blog Tour.

Today’s post is one of my favourites and was also the final stop on the tour, with the wonderful Kate Elliott, author of the Crown of Stars, Crossroads, and now Spiritwalker Fantasy series.

Why a favourite? Because it deals with world building, of course—and world building, as much as magic, defines the Fantasy genre, as I shall argue below. 🙂

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“Building Fantastic Worlds—“It’s A Mystery”

Over the past few weeks, at various stops on The Gathering of the Lost blog tour, I have discussed a number of facets of the story, including environment, war, romance, friendship, history, adventure and writing strong women characters. Yet all these aspects could equally well apply to any writing genre, from contemporary realism to crime to historical fiction. The element that really distinguishes FSF, especially when a story departs from this-world-as-we-know-it, is world building.

But how do compelling and intriguing worlds come about—the ones where arguably the world is as much a character as any of the personalities that appear within the story. Logic suggests there ought to be a formula, one any aspiring world builder can follow so that adding two and two will result in—hey presto—a fantastic world. Right?

Rather than an enthusiastic and positive “yes,” my initial response is more cautious. There are certainly ingredients that distinguish the worlds that have really seized my imagination. For example, an extreme physical environment dominates Ursula Le Guin’s Winter in “The Left Hand of Darkness,” as it does Frank Herbert’s Arrakis (“Dune”) and Robin Hobb’s Rain Wilds (The Live Ships series and now the Rain Wilds Chronicles.) But before we can go “extreme physical environment: check,” we have to consider worlds like Tolkien’s Middle Earth. The landscapes are reasonably diverse, but not extreme, yet Middle Earth has retained its place in our collective imagination for nearly sixty years.

When thinking about what makes the world stand out, I find myself coming back to Tolkien’s layering of myth and history in Middle Earth, which results in a sense of continuity beyond the present adventure. I also return to the strong association of “culture” with each new landscape: hobbits and the Shire; the differing elven cultures of Rivendell, Lothlorien, and Mirkwood; the dwarves of Moria and ents of Fangorn, the human societies of Rohan and those of Gondor. At one level many of these groups comprise separate species, but they are also distinct cultures; the way they both shape their world, and are shaped by it, reflects those distinctions.

Culture plays a vital role in defining Le Guin’s Winter and Hobb’s Rain Wilds, too, as does the historical and legendary continuum on Dune. So—a distinctive or extreme physical setting with a layering of myth and history, and/or culture. Perhaps some building blocks for creating fantastic worlds are emerging here.

But although the latter elements also form part of Catherynne M Valente’s Palimpsest, and to a lesser extent China Mieville’s Un Lun Dun, they pale beside the sheer imaginative creativity of both worlds: the piling of the bizarre onto the weird or downright whacky. Another building block, right—only now the author has to juggle physical extremes with those of the fantastical and it would be very easy to drop any or all of the balls. Easier still if one begins to consider Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland and Looking Glass worlds, which are based around playing cards and chess, or Paolo Bacigalupi’s future-dystopian Thailand where it is the vision of technological and bio-engineered genetic change that defines the world and compels the reader’s attention.

So how do the disparate elements that may—but don’t necessarily all, or always—comprise FSF world building get pulled together to create the worlds that absorb our attention and colonise our imaginations?

My short answer, culled from the film “Shakespeare In Love”, is: “It’s a mystery.” Because the actual answer seems nebulous and probably unsatisfactory—that the essential ingredient is a spark that leaps from the writer’s imagination, to the writing on the page or screen, and from there to the reader. In fact there is no formula able to guarantee that the necessary spark can and will be struck.

In terms of the “how to” employed by different authors, I suspect there are as many approaches as there are writers. Some will plan and design extensively in advance, while others allow the world, like the characters, to evolve as they write. My own world building is a mix of the instantaneous, the unexpected vision of a world or character that leaps into being, followed by the evolutionary—where the world unfolds, a little like a map unrolling, as the characters encounter it.

The Wall of Night Series map; design by Peter Fitzpatrick

In terms of The Wall of Night world the first concept began long ago with a vision of a twilit, wind blasted environment garrisoned by keeps illuminated with inner light. Yet as to what lay inside the vast strongholds like the abandoned Old Keep of Winds—that knowledge only came when the storytelling began and the first characters actually went there. The world building evolved through their experiences: what each character saw, heard, smelt, touched—and was also touched by—and tasted, as well as her or his curiosity or need to learn what they did not already know.

Yet surely—you may argue—the world already exists outside the characters’ experience of it, in the author’s mind for example. And to an extent it does, in my case because of that first vision of the Wall of Night. Conversely though, the southern realms of Haarth, which come to the fore in “The Gathering Of The Lost” (The Wall of Night Book Two), and the romance of the road that stretches “from Ij to Ishnapur” evolved through the unfolding story, not via prior planning. Ursula Le Guin, in “Steering the Craft,” talks of the creative process in terms of ‘pulling ideas out of the air’—so perhaps the world of Haarth was there in the ether all along, waiting to be discovered. But after that initial flash of discovery, I had to begin the process of writing in order to explore its realms, cultures and frontiers.

I am forced to conclude that world building does contain an element of mystery. I can check all the boxes—yet still that vital spark may not be there. It occurs to me though, that I do not look on any aspect of storytelling as box checking. So perhaps that is the vital spark: whether manifesting in an instant or evolving over time, the worlds that I pull from the air have colour, texture and depth. In the moment they appear they are real. And although by no means assured, that sense of reality is the key to ensuring a world is also real on the page—and may become real for the reader as well.”

“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear.”

~ Freya Stark, 1893-1993

To find out a little more more about the fascinating Freya Stark, click on her name.

On Thursday I posted on “Five Books That Changed Me”, one of which was Aldous Huxley’s Eyeless In Gaza.

In the interim, someone remarked to me, “What an odd name for a book.”

To which I began to reply, “It alludes to…”

And someone else present put in, “The Old Testament story of Samson and Delilah, of course.”

“Ye-es,” I said, “ultimately. But the more direct allusion is to the poem by John Milton, Samson Agonistes, which includes the phrase: “Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him//Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill with slaves …”

So the book title alludes to the poem, which retells the biblical story—which together made me reflect that one of the elements I love in literature is the way a story may have added depth through allusion of this kind to preceding works, whether it is prior works of literature, or sources such as the Bible, or—as is often the way in speculative fiction—to myths and legends.

So long as they’re out of copyright, of course… 😉

The Wall of Night Series map; design by Peter Fitzpatrick

The A Geography of Haarth series features locales and places from The Wall of Night world of Haarth.

This week the series continues with places that begin with the letter “B.”

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Black Tower: fortress and original ducal palace in Caer Argent, said to date back to the Old Empire; located in the Southern Realms of Haarth.

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‘“‘The  island of Emer,’” Malian murmured, knowing that this foothold in the Argent had been the dukedom once, during the troubled centuries that followed the Cataclysm, when war had surged back and forward across what was now Emer. Control of the island with its command over the river and surrounding countryside had been one of the great prizes, but the Black Tower was an Old Empire structure and had never fallen… ’

~  from © The Gathering of the Lost: The Wall of Night Book Two; Chapter 35  — Caer Argent

I saw this question “oot thar” somewhere on t’interwebs and thought—what fun, I should do it on “…Anything, Really.” So here goes…

Five Books That Changed Me (Warning: This Is not An Exclusive List!)

CS Lewis’s “The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe”:

I still recall the sheer wonder and delight of that moment when, together with the character of Lucy, I first stepped through the back of a wardrobe and into a snowy wood, illuminated by a solitary lamppost—and a few moments later met a faun (at age 8 I had to look up what a faun was!) carrying an armful of Christmas presents. That moment sparked a lifelong love of fantasy that eventually inspired me to write my own fantastic stories.

Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”:

I was a precocious reader and so first read Pride & Prejudice at age 9—and again, still remember laughing out loud over Mr Collins’ proposal to Lizzie Bennett. I have reread the book many times since then and each time I discover a new layer of enjoyment, most particularly around Miss Austen’s acute and ironic eye for the frailties of human nature—and am impressed by the way her writing still “speaks” to us, two hundred years on.

Robert Graves’ “Homer’s Daughter”: 

I first read Homer’s Daughter somewhere in my teens and loved that not only was the central protagonist a young woman, but a young woman who was using her wits to survive in difficult circumstances—and better still, subsequently wrote/composed (according to the story) The Odyssey based on her experiences! I found this all seriously cool, especially the way Graves wove the threads of myth and the events in the later part of The Odyssey into a story that had a sense of real history—what I now call “legendary history.”

Aldous Huxley’s Eyeless in Gaza:

We mostly remember Huxley for Brave New World, but I found  Eyeless in Gaza a defining reading experience. I struggled to come to grips with its disjointed chronology and unsympathetic characters, yet the narrative came together in the later stages to the extent that I still think it is one of the most compelling books I have ever read. And it certainly taught me that sometimes it pays to persevere, even with a work that may not initially appeal.

Ursula Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness:

Another compelling read, one that opened up a new style of Science Fiction for me—not “space opera”, but serious speculation about the nature of space travel (eg juxtaposing the “ansible”, faster-than-light communication, with sub-lightspeed travel) and the nature of how societies might evolve with differing sexual, social and political absolutes, as well as the sociological-anthropological responsibility and vulnerability of the outside observer in an alien world. And did I mention—beautiful, spare, powerful writing.

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So there you are—that’s my first take on five books that changed me.

How about you: what are your five, (or initial five anyway), or even just one?