For SF&F Writers: The Endless Parade of Knock-Offs


So here I am, another reading period long done and just back from my vacation, and I remember it’s been a couple months since I posted anything for you lovely people. Forgive me. The sad truth is that as much as I enjoy reading for Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, nothing really grabbed me this time around. Maybe I’ll just write about why that is and what you who submit stories can do to work on it, okay? Good. I’d like to give my focus this time to one of the most grinding tasks I go through in clearing the Slush Pile, reading through all the damn knock-offs.

So what the hell do I mean by this? It’s pretty simple. Whenever something is really popular, people start writing stuff that’s like that popular thing they enjoy. Tolkien still inspires a few thousand lousy PG fantasy stories a year. Martin does the same, but with more incest, blood, and binge-eating. Finding that a writer has more or less filed the serial numbers off of Middle Earth or Westeros for a thoroughly bland and unoriginal adventure story was easily the most tedious part of my day when reading fantasy. I can blame, in part, this annoying work ethic of mine. I feel guilty just skimming. Every story has it’s redeeming qualities, even if it’s just one scene that really worked well, or one line of dialogue from a side character I thought was funny. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not griping because I have to read stuff. It’s my job. I’m griping because I have to read stuff that feels like I’ve read it already, but better. What’s more, the authors should really be aware of that before submitting as to save themselves the time and emotional sting of rejection, because I can tell they’ve likely read the same better thing I have. Or at least seen it on HBO.

But of course I read sci-fi now. Care to guess what the most imitated work of recent times is?

Sorry. It’s James S.A. Corey. It’s surprising to no one, I’m sure, that the epic space opera turned TV hit that is The Expanse has inspired a lot of fans to write their own take on the same themes of political conspiracy, colonialism, and alien technology in a solar-system wide civilization. After all, that type of speculative fiction exists because it’s fun and intriguing to imagine how the problems we face today would continue to play out in the future. Throw in some human/alien hybrid zombies and a few space battles and you have a party, just maybe not one I want to go to for the hundredth time.

Perhaps I’m being too harsh. It’s not like every story I read that borrows from other subject matter is bad. On the contrary, some few inspired authors have come up with unique scenarios based old ideas, while others take it on themselves to explore themes that the subject matter they’re clearly drawing from maybe didn’t flesh out to the fullest extent. I still rarely recommend such stories to the Editors for publication, but the effort shows in these select few, and it is appreciated.

In the end I suppose it’s unavoidable. I read a lot of stories, and some are necessarily going to feel kind of similar. I certainly wrote a few bad ones before I hit my stride and started getting published. Hell, I tried to write an epic fantasy novel when I was 14, and an epic sci-fi series when I was 19. Neither worked out for one very simple reason. I spent some time on online writing forums, and realized everyone else was writing the same damn stories. Maybe that’s the answer. Write those stories. Get it out of your system. Time spent improving your craft is never time wasted. But before you start submitting blindly, spend some time sharing with your peers, or at least poking around to see what’s out there and what may have already been done to death. It takes time and effort, as will most things in life worth doing, but in the end it’ll help you refine your thought and writing processes. When you have a truly great original idea, you’ll know it. Then the real work starts.



For SF&F Writers: Building a Sense of Wonder


So the new submission period for Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores is about to begin, and a substantial slush pile no doubt awaits. In my temporary role as Editorial Assistant, I no longer just read through stories and offer basic feedback to senior Editors on every aspect that pops into my head. Mainly, I send rejection notices. In trying to be as helpful and constructive as possible with these, I’ve noticed a trend I’d like to harp on, and that’s the tendency to treat the fantastic as mundane in the many worlds of speculative fiction.

Maybe it’s a sign of the age of the genres. As a writer and editor, I’ll be the first to admit that coming up with something truly breathtaking and original is getting harder. There is just such a massive volume of work out there for consideration and consumption that ideas and plots which might once have caught our eyes as worthy of publication have become tired and easily passed over, despite the presence of high quality writing.

So what’s the answer? Originality, obviously, but beyond that, lets focus more on what made speculative fiction so captivating in the first place, and what drew so many of us to our favorite authors and stories in our formative years. A sense of wonder. Frankly, I think too many stories are jaded. Having a tough, hardboiled protagonist is fine, and it can help or hurt the story depending on the author’s approach, but maybe isn’t the best for reeling the reader into the scope, scale, and strangeness of the new world you’ve set them in. Too much short speculative fiction tries to be gritty and just comes of as bleak and uninteresting.

Here’s a little bullet list of things I’ve noticed help bring those all-important feelings of awe, majesty, and joy to a story.

  • Writing from the perspective of a child. Presenting a strange universe from the point of view of a wide-eyed and curious youngster is a good way to evoke wonder. Take care though, it can easily backfire. Inconsistencies in the character’s language and comprehension of the world around them are the easiest way for a writer to trip themselves up.
  • Present something the reader has seen before in a new way. I recently plowed through Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series. Dragons have been a staple of the fantasy genre since its inception, but no one had made them sentient airborne battleships of the Napoleonic Wars before.
  • To follow up on that last one, making the human seem inhuman, or vice versa. Give the reader a character or setting they think they recognize only to have it turn out to be something different. Try not to telegraph it from a mile away though.
  • Go for the slow burn on storytelling. A lot of writers try to jump right into a big action sequence or something from the beginning, hoping it will hook the reader. What follows tends to be a let down if the rest of the story can’t keep pace. If what you have to say is interesting, you probably don’t have to go in guns blazing.
  • Back to basics, choose the language wisely. Well chosen words are essential to the flow of a story, and nothing kills the flow of a story for me quite like long chains of adjectives and adverbs. We all want to show how verbose we are, but overkill will yank the reader right out of the headspace they have to be in to enjoy your work.
  • Dealing with a level of development and action appropriate to your setting. This is something I’ve talked about before in previous posts. A sci-fi story set on a space station against the backdrop of an interstellar war should probably include some space battles, not just a few characters talking about space battles. Raising your readers’ expectations in this way and failing to meet them is a serious buzzkill that I encounter all too often in the slush pile.

I’m not saying these are the only ways to make a story captivating. Far from it. They’re just methods I’ve seen used to good effect. In the end, the thing that will really make a story is the writer’s dedication, a love of the craft itself and a fascination with the genre. Don’t rush to finish a story, go through multiple drafts. You’ll know when it’s done, because you’ll have been intellectually excited by the possibilities you’ve followed through on the page, and your readers will be able to tell.





For SF&F Writers. Trope Alerts Part 1: The Hardboiled Something-Or-Other

So with the latest submission period to Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores now closed, I’ve decided to start a new running segment to this blog which I call, you guessed it, Trope Alerts. In case this isn’t self explanatory, my next few posts will focus on all the things I feel I’ve seen just way too much of, and offer the reader/writer advice on how, if not to avoid them completely, at least to steer clear of writing the same old story we’ve all seen too many times. This first installment, and maybe a few afterwards, will focus on characterization, but it’s more likely than not I’ll branch out into other areas of storytelling before I’m finished in this vein. Good? Good. Let’s get cracking.

So what do I mean by the title of this post? I mean the sort of character we all love to see done if their arc actually leads somewhere. Better still, if they’re played by Harrison Ford in the film adaptation. I think you all know what I’m talking about. The tough guy, the loner with the troubled past. Often a primary or secondary character, usually but not always male, and probably encountered by your other characters in a dive bar, badly lit space station, haunted forest, or some other equally tense and obvious locale. Usually while the other main characters are running from or looking for something. Detective, Mercenary, Con-Man, Starship Captain, it doesn’t seem to matter. The hardboiled something-or-other plays it cool, and helps the other characters out of their various sorry states, either for a price, or his/her own mysterious purpose. Sadly, in my slush pile anyway, this is frequently revealed later in a moment of out of character self-sacrifice or grindingly terrible expository dialogue.

So why do I have a stick up my ass about this type of character? Because not everyone can write a Han Solo, Bronn, or Josephus Miller. It’s one of the pitfalls of reading and writing short fiction. That sort of character is really damn hard to do right if you don’t have a couple books or movies in a series at your disposal to flesh them out. That doesn’t (and shouldn’t) stop authors from trying to craft their own characters along similar lines. My gripe is that I’ve encountered so many obvious knock-off versions of those examples I just listed that I might as well be reading fan fiction.

So what’s the writer to do? You want your story to have a real bad boy (or girl) who comes to the rescue, takes no prisoners, gets the girl (or boy), and rides off into the sunset with a wink and a nod? Preferably with their stout horse, galleon, or spacecraft loaded with plunder as reward for their reluctant but no less effective heroism? Sure, sounds great to me. The trick is to make sure you have enough story to go round between the characters. All to often when reading short fiction, the hard-boiled so-and-so shows up to rescue some hapless, unprepared crew of protagonists from an easily avoidable evil which has to be explained hastily to them. Why bother with the ensemble cast when one or two tightly written characters will do? Maybe speculative fiction authors are inherently lonely people? Maybe we’ve all just played a few too many D&D campaigns? Perhaps it’s time for short-fiction writers to stop treating their speculative fiction work as author insertion fantasy personas. Feel free to write them, just maybe stop sending them to me. I have enough to do without weeding through a dozen stories about Bronn Solo: Space Mercenary stopping the Galactic Zombie apocalypse.

For SF&F Writers: Writing Non-Human Characters


I’d like to open this post by apologizing to loyal readers (if any) for my long absence. I’ve had a death in the family, and it robbed me of my motivation to do much of anything these past few months. But I’ve bounced back, and I’m happy to say that I’ll be posting more regularly now, and adding some new content to the rest of the blog as well. So let’s get to it.

One of the things I love about speculative fiction is the freedom it gives the writer to play around. We can create new worlds, and populate them with new species of intelligent beings. We can give these beings their own language, society, customs, and history. We can give them fantastic abilities, and have them embody traits and values alien to us.The only limits are the writers imagination, and how much they want to say.

Which is the reason I felt compelled to write this particular entry. These past reading periods, the ┬ásci-fi slush pile at Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores has been a veritable parade of robots, aliens, and robotic aliens. Not so much pushing the envelope as nudging it forward a smidge at a time. I know, being original is hard, but it’s worth the effort. A robot with a heart of gold who befriends and protects the people around it can be compelling, but not when I encounter a half-dozen of them in rapid succession.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that any character, human or otherwise, has to be relatable. They need some traits and quirks of personality that the reader can identify with. Let’s just try to move a little beyond the obvious. Or, barring that, approach the obvious in a new way.

One story that stuck in my mind from my very first Fantasy reading period was set from the point of view of a Goblin protagonist. Without breaking confidentiality, I’ll just say that this Goblin went about doing Goblin things for Goblin reasons. Namely, his desire for treasure. Greed is a motivation most of us can relate to in some way. We may not be ruled by it, but I certainly feel like I could use a bit more treasure in my life. How about you? I rejected the story for other reasons, but the protagonist was unique enough to have stuck in mind a year later. With the volume of stories I read, trust me, that’s saying something.

So what’s the speculative fiction writer to do? Bring depth, and, dare I say it, warmth to your non-human. But for crying out loud, keep it weird and keep it unique. If there’s no point to making your character something other than human, then there’s probably not much point to having a speculative fiction story in the first place.

For SF&F Writers: Being Selective with Speculative Elements


So submissions for Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores reopened recently, and I’ve already spotted a trend in the Slush Pile irritating enough to make me jump back into the blog, despite still being on holiday. Unconvincing and poorly written characters and settings can ruin any story. I covered various ways to avoid this in my recent Building Believable Worlds posts. As a First Reader and lover of all things speculative, a deciding factor for me in rejecting a story is when the science fiction or fantasy elements of are poorly developed and unnecessary to the actual plot.

Writers looking to avoid this should ask themselves what the point of their given element is. For example, why is a story being set on a space station if it just has the characters walking around and talking to one another? They could still do that very easily if they weren’t in space. They may be talking about stuff that has to do with space, but that isn’t the same as actually having an adventure in space of some kind. Oh look, there’s a robot passing by, or perhaps an alien. Turns out they have nothing to do with the plot at the moment, they’re just on board to lend a futuristic air to things and remind us we’re reading what the author is trying to pass off as science fiction. Maybe later they’ll be revealed as the conspirator behind some intricate plot that will start a war to destabilize the Galactic Empire, but we probably won’t hear from them again until then. This does not a good sci-fi yarn make. Consider whether or not the setting and elements you are introducing contribute anything of substance. If not you should probably re-think them, or you’re likely to disappoint your readers.

The average fantasy story has a different problem. So much fantasy is set in another world governed as much by magical systems as much as fantasy realm’s King or Emperor or Council of Learned Wizard Elders or whatever. The problem is that many authors still begin their stories in some simple and probably impoverished feudal village, old growth forest, monastery, or something else that says “Hero’s Humble Origins” with equal subtlety. All too often, they never leave. What can I say, I work with short fiction, which lacks the luxury of travel time that the epic ten-book sagas enjoy. This is all too frequently compensated for by having magical creatures emerge from around every bush and tree, and by having artifacts likewise endowed stashed around every corner. As I’ve previously mentioned, this tends to rob the story of it’s impact.

So what’s the answer? Call it speculative minimalism. Plow through your first draft without worrying, but then, go back and ask yourself which speculative elements you really need to say what you want to stay. If you’re looking to create a wider universe, don’t just fill it to the brim with the same cliches we’ve all read in Tolkien or watched on Star Trek, put a bit of time and effort into making it your own. The genres have matured beyond that. Even in a universe populated by wildly different beings, magic, and advanced technology, human (or for that matter, non-human) interest should be the real driving force of any story.

For SF&F Writers. Building Believable Worlds Part 4: Antagonists and Enemies


Lets talk bad guys. Most stories have one. Well crafted or otherwise, speculative fiction is full of them. Not that any one actual character is essential as the obstacle the protagonist has to overcome. Sometimes its simply the environment they’re in, other times its a whole alien species in the vein of Starship Troopers or Ender’s Game. Maybe the story is more reflective, and the protagonist is on a voyage of self-discovery in which the only real obstacle to them achieving their goal is themselves.

While reading for Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, I’ve come across all of the above, and they each have their own merits and drawbacks. The main trade off I’ve found with stories of these types is that they tend to be able to bring forth more intellectually complex and morally ambiguous plot development than the simple good vs. evil narrative, but in doing so they tend to sacrifice the simple joy of a challenging, well crafted antagonist. Holmes had Moriarty, Batman has the Joker, and even Homer Simpson had Frank Grimes for a minute there. Having an intelligent enemy who poses a threat to the hero on a deeply personal level adds a dimension of emotional relatability for the reader. Overcoming life’s various obstacles is one thing, but a personal triumph over another human being who’s out to get us is another. Predictable as such endings may be, we enjoy seeing the hero beat the villain because we like to imagine ourselves as that hero. Who doesn’t want to be Batman on some level?

So what makes a good bad guy? Or guys or girl(s) or whatever. Personally, I look for an intelligent, powerful, cold-eyed killer, preferably with a motivation I can understand. Vincent D’Onofrio’s Kingpin from the Daredevil series is probably my favourite villain of recent years in any medium. That’s not to say I’m discounting the cartoonish sort of evil for the sake of evil characterized by my above examples. Just don’t spend too much time trying to rationalize it or dress it up. For example, comic writers like Alan Moore and Brian Azzarello have written some thoughtful work in an effort to dig deeper into the character of the Joker, but at the end of the day he’s still just a murderous clown who wants to watch the world burn. I wouldn’t have him any other way.

As far as the fiction I receive and review for Cosmic Roots goes, antagonists and enemies (because they aren’t always the same thing) have ranged from pushy, overly friendly neighbours to unseen assassins to fleets of space pirates after the hero’s booty. By which I mean treasure. The point is, the stories I rejected usually had villains, antagonists, or obstacles to the hero’s journey that didn’t seem believable, and worse still were only alluded to, and barely involved in the story itself.

There is a temptation when writing short fiction, particularly from the first-person perspective, to have the villain and origin of the conflict described solely from the hero’s point of view, and to have any actual encounters with said villain limited to a climactic final showdown. I’d advise writers to avoid making this rookie mistake. You can fill your fictional universe with plenty of interesting scenery and diversions along the way, but it still feels incomplete. A bit like reading a summary of a novel before skipping ahead to the end, or watching an action movie from the training montage onward. Drama between good and evil needs tension, and tension needs buildup. Ask and answer questions about their adversarial relationship as you fill the reader in on the details of your imagined world. Put as much thought into the antagonist as you do your hero, and make the reader feel their conflict has depth.


For SF&F Writers. Building Believable Worlds Part 3: Secondary Characters


Every drama needs a supporting cast. In my time as a First Reader with Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, I’ve come across far too many stories that fail to give sufficient thought or depth to secondary characters. An unfortunate, but easy mistake to make when writing short fiction, particularly in the first person. The writer crafts a heroic protagonist viewpoint character that’s too engrossed in their own actions and opinions. Secondary characters are relegated to the role of scenery, or the bearers of a brief expository dialogue that sets the protagonist off on their adventure. Worse still, they can be enemies without motivation or explanation. I’ll save my views on the various types of primary antagonist for a future post, but as far as minor characters go I’ve encountered dozens of examples of poorly handled friends, sidekicks, spouses, and other types of acquaintances.

For convenience’s sake, I’m just going to offer all of you a quick list of things I encounter in secondary characters that earn a story an immediate black mark in my book.

  • Wise old mentor who imparts much needed knowledge and/or skills upon protagonist with absolutely no explanation of how they obtained said knowledge/skills
  • Character who suddenly becomes evil/antagonistic for no reason
  • Loving spouse introduced as such and given no other role in the story other than being the wife or husband of the protagonist
  • Easily thwarted minor antagonist placed in protagonist’s way early on just to establish them as a badass
  • Attractive but pointless character inserted as a romantic interest solely for the reasons of having a romantic interest. This one usually comes with a laughably thin justification for the character’s presence in the story.
  • Awful racist depictions of POC secondary characters. Yes, I get them in the slush pile. Please make them stop.

I get it. Populating an entire fictional universe is hard. I don’t expect the writer to spend the time and effort on giving the life’s story, motivations, and favourite colour of every secondary character in every short story. That said, if you as a writer are bothering to create a character, even a minor one, at least flesh them out a bit. A well placed, well crafted sentence or three at various points in their interaction with the protagonist is usually enough to make the reader view them as a more complete person beyond that interaction. Even if they only got a few lines of dialogue in before they met their untimely end, inspiring the hero to go off on their journey.

In speculative fiction we have another problem. Its tempting for the author to cheat a bit. Have the protagonist be a human among aliens, robots, dwarves, elves, etc and have them all just do their own thing while the hero does theirs. The automatic “othering” here means very little explanation required as to their motivations and interactions with the protagonist. They’re aliens, they do alien things. Attack earth, fight other aliens, abduct Mulder’s sister for reasons I’m still not quite clear on after binging all nine seasons of The X-Files on Netflix, whatever. It’s a little lazy, but dressing up mysterious non-human background characters doing mysterious things for non-human reasons, to be explained (or not) later, has long been a staple of speculative genres. I’m not advocating this over actual storytelling, but if it isn’t too ham-handed, keeps the plot moving, and gets you the writer to the point where you say what you’re trying to say, then I’m not going to judge too harshly. The rest of the story had just better be damn good.

Reading all of this back to myself as I get ready to hit publish, it seems like a lot to take in. Maybe I’m making this unnecessarily complicated. The level of detail an author wants to put into any aspect of their world-building, secondary characters included, is up to them. Just make sure the interactions between your characters feel organic, and that they come off as real, three-dimensional beings, not simply devices. Sometimes, less is more.