Murdered Muse

I’m not sure who killed her.

nightmare fairy

the nightmare fairy

Yeah, this is some weird, death-fairy imagery I found in the bowels of the internet, but it illustrates a point as well as it can; my muse has been viciously, mercilessly murdered.

I can see her, staring up at me with blank and soulless eyes. Her mouth is open and there is some kind of milky fluid oozing out. The poor thing. She’s simply not responding and I know she’s dead. Someone killed her. It wasn’t me, and I have to find a way to revive her.

There’s the requisite listening of music, particularly something that stimulates neurotransmitters and the synapses that control them. There is of course, caffeine, which I am now consuming in massive quantities; I eagerly look over at the dead body of my muse to see if it’s helping but I see no movement. Let’s see, what other possible panacea can conjure up to revive this poor, pretty thing that is lying prostrate on the couch next to me?

She’s a pretty thing, my muse. All golden skin and sparkly hair, with a simple golden wrap that resembles something from a recent sci-fi fan fiction alternate universe that I wrote. Her hair is a shock of silver/blonde that makes me think of my original work and the transformation of a human being into something else entirely, when alien hosts who grant you the power over movement and conduction live in you without your even realizing it.

*Sigh. Her resurrection is penultimate in my ever-increasing list of priorities. There is nothing more important and not even my laundry list of dreams, hobbies and career goals can stand in the way!  ‘Course, if you get right down to it, without her none of those things can be attended to anyway.

Damn it.  I feel like Elliot Stabler, looking for a culprit who keeps eluding my grasp with inexhaustible skill and determination.

where are you, you heartless bastard?

where are you, you heartless bastard?

Yes… yes that resembles me now, as I gaze pensively out the slats of dusty window blinds, promising retribution with every little quirk at the corner of my mouth.  Minus the five-head – apologies Chris Meloni.

Meanwhile, manuscript(s) lay open on my desktop with no chance for the salvation of substance and form:  just neglected and pitiful files full of Microsoft Word’s off-white space.

There is, of course, that ever-present question. Who killed you, my precious muse? I will find him – or her, mind you. And I will destroy this person with all the pitiless violence of Sektor from Mortal Kombat.

Low Punch. Run. Run. Block.





Oh… oh, yes.  My caffeinated behind is squeeing with pre-teen delight, you sanguine-armored assassin, you.



(Elliot Stabler/Law & Order Image (C) NBC Studios)
(Sektor/Mortal Kombat 3 (C) Property of Midway Games, 1995)


Oedipal Complex Gone Horribly Awry: Sephiroth the Momma’s Boy

Being of a blessedly nerdy nature, I play a crap load of video games.  Yes, I do.  In keeping with the general theme here I’ve chosen to rant about one of them specifically, engaging the philosophical points of it (and of course, the science fiction behind them) until they get a bit muddled; and perhaps you wonder why I decided to delve that deeply into it in the first place.  It’s because I’m slightly mad, and I have no problem with that.

In particular, I am a great fan of the JRPG (for the lay readers out there, this is a fun and rather superfluous little acronym for ‘Japanese Role-Playing Game’).  At some point I have played RPGs that are not Japanese, either by right of their character designers, writers, programmers or animators – but I couldn’t tell you at what point I went from Dark Tower to The Legend of Zelda.  Sometime in the late 1980’s or early 90’s I’m certain…  In the late 1990’s I finally discovered Final Fantasy, though it had been around for quite some time before that.  The one my brother bought me while I was browsing the PlayStation all-star lineup at Toys-R-Us one Christmas?  This one, by the gods:


Now, how could I not take that?  I mean really, it’s got everything a girl could ever dream of on the cover.  That’s right, a dude with a giant sword and ridiculously, outrageously spikey blond hair.  He already looks like a tortured soul, and who doesn’t love that?  Plus, I mean, at the time the fact that this game encompassed three CD-ROMs was completely unheard of.  Balls to the wall action here, and I hadn’t even yet opened the game.  In fact, at that point I was still staring at it longingly when my older, way cool brother walked up to me and asked if I’d like him to buy the game.  Alright, on to the plot.

Final Fantasy VII is, without contest and in my humble opinion, the most epic and sweeping tale in the game franchise.  Nerds everywhere argue the validity of this comment; some would agree unequivocally, while others take issue with the idea and press that Final Fantasy X-2 was clearly the winner of such an honor.  Preposterous.  Let’s discuss why.  First, let me introduce you to the main character, Cloud Strife:

Look at those tortured, Satanic blue eyes.  BAMF.

Look at those tortured, Satanic blue eyes.

Look at this guy.  If ever there was a brooding, self-absorbed bastard for chicks to fawn over, it was this hunk of general malaise.  I mean when the game opens he barely utters a phrase to most of the characters other than, “whatever”, “where’s my money?”, and “I’m a SOLDIER, First Class”.  More on that later, but my point is that he’s hardly likeable.  Generally, for the first few hours of gameplay I found Cloud Strife a veritable storm of contradictions, irritability and bitchiness.  But he’s the strongest character in the beginning, I mean whatcha gonna do?

What you need to know is this; in the universe of Final Fantasy VII, the city of Midgar is a thriving industrial city powered by natural energy called “mako”.  Mako is harvested and sold in massive quantities by an old weapons manufacturing corporation called Shin-Ra (whose Japanese characters mean, respectively, ‘god’ and ‘silk’, no clue why but it could be that ‘ra’ can also mean ‘Rome’ in some contexts.  Whatever.).  Shin-Ra is a ruthless, unethical corporation that uses its resources to undermine and suppress those with less power, and they even employ their own personal ARMY to take care of this crap for them.  That’s where SOLDIER comes in; they are the creme de la creme of Shin-Ra’s army and as you later discover, purposefully and methodically engineered to be so.  The members of SOLDIER First Class are Shin-Ra’s highest ranking warriors.

Of course our boy above wants to BE one of them, right?  Of course he IS one, I mean he’s a total jerk who thinks he’s better than everyone else until about the middle of the game story when suddenly his whole little world is shot to hell by two very seemingly harmless words:  “wake up”.  That’s right, just “wake up”.  After a few hours of basic leveling up and story unraveling we do discover that, not only is Shin-Ra irredeemably evil and continues to harvest mako energy even though it is literally killing the planet and endangering every other viable natural resource (uh… helloooooo Japanese pseudo environmentalism), but also that Cloud is somehow inextricably linked to his former comrade in arms, idol and SOLDIER First Class Golden Boy Extraordinaire: Sephiroth.  At this point in the game, without knowing anything else about this Sephiroth, you only know that the guy’s name strikes fear into the heart of most people.  Why?  This is why:

Fire.  Six foot katana.  Bitchin.

Fire. Six foot katana. Bitchin.

That’s the original artwork I saw on the back of the game manual.  I knew this was going to take some serious emotional cajones to get through; the guy obviously burns crap to the ground on a regular basis and then walks through it like Al Pacino in The Devil’s Advocate. Copious amounts of detail and patience would be necessary to really describe who and what Sephiroth is, what he represents in the real world for plebs like us and exactly how insanely plausible his existence is even from a science fictional standpoint.  Since I have the former of those and not a whit of the latter, let’s go with a more concise approach. Before the events of the game story take place, Sephiroth was conceived by a pair of mad-scientist type geniuses who implanted the DNA of a crusty old alien named JENOVA into his developing cells.  Now, before we go any further you *should* know that Shin-Ra was of course involved in this somehow (the male of this pair works for them), and JENOVA, when initially discovered, was thought to be the remains of a virtually extinct race of peaceful and nomadic beings called the Cetra.  Unfortunately for our pal Sephy, that was not the case.  JENOVA was just a crazy ass alien seeking intergalactic domination and destruction.  HAHAAAA, joke’s on you Sephy.  Too bad for our friend Cloud, too, because when Sephiroth finds out that he was literally created by two scientists he goes a little crazy.  By ‘a little crazy’ I mean he flips his proverbial lid, impales some unsuspecting Shin-Ra employees, and burns down the entire village surrounding the lab where he was ‘born’.  The village also happens to be Cloud’s hometown.  Poor guy can’t catch a break.  Sephiroth swears revenge on the puny humans who “made” him, sets out to complete his real mother JENOVA’s quest for planetary and eventual intergalactic dominance, disappears and is assumed to be dead but off course, he’s not.  Ten extra points if you can cite, and laugh out loud at, that majorly detail-oriented reference right there. In the  meantime we’ve got some large and complicated sub-plots going on involving Cloud and his friends and the importance of being honest with oneself and one’s loved-ones, but one thing remains constant: when you eff with mother nature, mother nature effs with you. Sephiroth reappears, goes on a murderous rampage that leaves the president of Shin-Ra dead and his flouncy little son in charge, and insinuates himself into Cloud’s subconscious without us really knowing why.  Oh, Cloud you poor little puppy.  About five to seven hours into gameplay (depending on how often you left the menu up instead of pausing while you went and heated up some Easy Mac in the microwave), the player is about to undergo a drastic change in the way she/he approaches this RPG thinger.  Seriously though, this stuff helped me survive college.


Cue angelic voices.


Ok, where was I?  Oh, yes!  Intergalactic dominance, crusty old aliens and psychotic lab specimens.  Back on track!  Alright well, at this point if the player hasn’t totally given up on life because of a newfound complete distrust of humankind then it’s about to get even better!  Pop open that Easy Mac and curl up with a comfy blanket for this feel-good romp!

Now, I don’t want to spoil the rest of the story for anyone who hasn’t played through it because well, where would the fun be in that?  Let me wrap up this nerd rant by openly admitting that Final Fantasy VII, its plot, characters and development are just some of many inspirational portraits I’ve looked at through the years and really, truly been awed.  Producer Hironobu Sakaguchi, and director Yoshinori Kitase wowed me lo these fifteen years gone by and reminded me just what kind of creative chops it takes to really and truly touch someone’s real-world existence.  Isn’t that what every artist strives for?  Do we not strive to reach out and make the souls of our audience shiver with unbridled emotion?

The story of Cloud Strife branches off in many directions, revealing a deep-seated desire for belonging and acceptance that leads him to unknowingly assume the identity of someone else, and a genetic link to Sephiroth that nearly destroys him both physically and emotionally.  But in the end, what do we have?  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: premium sci-fi brilliance.  Go play this game and be inspired, dammit.

And like I said before, don’t eff with Mother Nature.  If you do, you’re left with this guy:

思い出にはならないさ。 That's French for BAMF.

That’s French for BAMF.

Nobody likes a psychotic, genetically engineered alien-human hybrid who ascends beyond all conceivable earthly power to become god-like and then subsequently summon a planet-shattering meteor to do his bidding and wipe out all inferior life forms.  Well, I do.  But that’s just because he’s such a BAMF.  I like BAMFs.

To Boldy go where…. WTF?!?!

Because Star Trek is probably one of, if not THE most heavily referenced and culturally dominant forces in science fiction, I felt an overwhelming need to share this. Stolen and reblogged from drunkgeek.

Oh, and while I’m on the subject – go watch some Star Trek.  Your brain will thank you for it.  Even the Gorn episode.


This is an awesome mash-up of the crew of the Enterprise encountering Miley Cyrus’s most recent escapades. Take it all in and enjoy…

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A Minstrel of Modern Day – Master of the Keywork


The Afterman: Ascension – Premium Sci-Fi Brilliance.

I’ve been listening to music for a long time.  Now, when I say a long time, I mean that my father used to play classical music records when I was a baby to get me to fall asleep.  I’ve been exposed to just about every type, genre and sub-genre of music there is, thanks to my family, and so far in life I have been inspired to create art and write by artists too numerous to name.  But, you see that picture up there?  That incredible feat of artistry that basically breaks boundaries and shatters preconceived notions of what art really means?  That’s Sirius Amory, and he’s going to clean your effing space clock.  The artistic genius behind his story, his conception and his musical execution?  Claudio Sanchez, of the great progressive-rock outfit, Coheed and Cambria.

Without downplaying the musical talent of the rest of the band, which is extensive, Sanchez’ story-telling and artistry are the glue that holds all of those pieces together.  His compilation of comic books, graphic novels and novels, The Amory Wars, are the basis and conceptions for all of C&C’s studio albums.

Some of you may already be familiar with Sanchez and his and his band’s work.  It doesn’t matter, I’m still going to go on about it.  I mean, look at this guy:


His GUITAR says he’s gangsta.  A friggin’ bad ass, much like Vegeta – but on a whole different level.  Claudio Sanchez is a real live dude who could be called a modern day “minstrel”.  The guy imagines these amazing stories that dwarf my literary schmutz in comparison, and then what does he do?  He writes a damn song about it, one that doesn’t sound like a Miley Cyrus junk track (because I’m sorry that stuff is junk.  You know, like the stuff that clutters up your garage?  It kinda makes it look good and you can’t really bear to part with it, but really it has no use?  Yeah.  Junk.)  Sanchez and his band write good, damn music.  In fact, I would go so far as to say it is exceptional music, given their instrumental propensities.  You can teach anyone to use an instrument, but it takes real talent to play one, and do it with finesse.

By the way, did you look at his hair?  Fabulous.

There are rare occasions where I am so inspired by an artist that I am literally compelled to keep creating.  The most recent C&C album, The Afterman: Descension, is the sequel to the one you see above and I still have not gotten to it because I literally am not done listening to the songs on Ascension yet.  Each one of the songs evokes a different emotion in me, and though I know the stories behind each one from doing extensive (probably obsessive) research regarding the comics/graphic novels/books associated with The Amory Wars, I am still inspired by the music and the artistry involved to go and create my own universes and characters.

Listen, if you haven’t heard of this band or had a chance to read any of The Amory Wars yet, I recommend you do it as soon as possible.  Any wordsmith, of which I’m sure there are many around here, can appreciate the pure genius of Sanchez’ work.  He is my literary role model.  If I could sit down with this man and pick his brain for a mere fifteen minutes, it would be one of the greatest moments of my life.

Then, I would schedule my fifteen minutes of brain-picking with the fantastic Ms. Joan D. Vinge, and my life would be complete.

Visit their website here, and if you really feel inclined to take my advice (which you absolutely should do), take a look at the Wikipedia article detailing the universe of The Amory Wars.  You’ll be mesmerized beyond your shit, if you know what I mean.

Do it – Claudio Kilgannon would be proud, and may even let you bear witness to his assumption of The Crowing:


Good God, there is a DEMONIC TEN SPEED BICYCLE in this story.  Need I say more?

Just–just go check this out before the world ends.


Why Giant Worms Can Be Sexy

Arrakeen. Sand worms. Gorgeous.

I had promised myself that I would occasionally post about authors who have inspired me with their prowess, characterization, world-building and narrative.  Frank Herbert is certainly high on this list (probably right after Joan Vinge), but because Giant Worms are sexy, we see here the third installment in the Dune Chronicles instead of the actual Dune itself.

Make no mistake; Dune is a masterpiece of space opera, a classic of science fiction and the quintessential bible of messianic heroism in the dark expanse of Space Hell.  Unfortunately, in order to read Children of Dune, one must already be familiar with the universe of Dune in the first place, otherwise I would recommend just reading Children of Dune before you do anything else by let’s say… Christmas of this year.

Let’s face the facts, though.  By this time in the Dune Universe, Paul Muad’Dib is an aging and elusive character who everyone thinks is dead and yet (like the spirit of Elvis) he is rumored to be wandering somewhere in the receding deserts of Planet Arrakis.  His children, and unfortunate sister Alia (a Spice addict with the worst case of possession in the known universe of literature), are looked on as saviors by the people of Arrakeen (capital city of Planet Arrakis and culture/spiritual center for the religion surrounding Paul Atreides and his conversion to Fremen spirituality.

It is here, in Children of Dune, where we truly see Herbert’s obvious distaste for the lemmings of the world, and how dangerously powerful a leader can become when followed blindly by his or her worshipers.  Paul’s children, his legal wife Princess Irulan and concubine Chani, all suffer from this blind following and Leto (Paul’s oldest son), begins to become so intent on returning to the roots of what Muad’Dib (his father) set out to accomplish that (without going into ridiculous amounts of detail and spoiling the story) he starts to actually become one of the giant worms that inhabit Arrakis and protect the Spice Melange.

The reason this can be sexy is because James McAvoy portrayed Leto in the BBC/Syfy Channel miniseries “Children of Dune” and even when he had worm skin I liked looking at him.  Bit skinny though.  But still hot.

But the sexier part?  Children of Dune is, at its heart, a well-crafted and well executed plot arc that warns humanity, even as far-reaching as this particular futuristic world is, that some things never change; that we should be as careful as we know how to be when glorification of mortal men (or women) becomes a model for existence.  Smoke and mirrors to our real reason for existing in the first place: to live and live life.

Dune Messiah does a pretty good job of exploring that, too, but when you get down to it Children of Dune is just more fun.  I’m sure someone out there disagrees with me.  But people drinking poisonous liquid and turning into giant sandworms is just sexy, no matter how you swing it.  Believe it or not when I write, I find myself drawing on Herbert’s sentiment without realizing it – minus the sand worms.

Read this book.  I mean, read Dune first but then read this book.  Do it.


Schediaphilia – or – “How Deep Is Your Love?”

Now, in this post I’m really going to start showing off my nerd guns because, well, not only am I a huge nerd so of course that fits my personality, but also because I feel compelled to.

I’m a huge anime fan.  Now, when I say huge I don’t mean: oh – I occasionally watch some Japanese anime and I do like the style of the animation and some of the characters appeal to me.  No, what I mean is that I generally enjoy a goodly amount of it, I watch it on a fairly regular basis (it’s usually on my t.v. as I fall asleep at night), and I am at least familiar with more than twenty anime series even if I happen not to be a fan of every single one.

That being said, let’s take a look at this guy:


That’s Vegeta, and he’s a bad-ass m effer who would probably rip your face off if you irritated him enough.  Now, when most people look at that picture they may think: “So?”  Perhaps rightly, but let’s break down the basics shall we?

Dragon Ball, a manga written and illustrated by celebrated Japanese mangaka (comic book author) Akira Toriyama, is one of the most celebrated and popular manga of all time, both in Japan and the United States (as well as several other countries in Europe, South America and Asia, where it has had significant exposure).  Dragon Ball was split into two series for the anime (or animated series) called Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z.  The bad ass above you first appeared in an early story arc of Dragon Ball Z.  Without getting too much into the general plot of the manga/anime, let’s suffice it to say this:

Vegeta (or Vejiita, which is closer to the actual romanization of his name, though not completely accurate) is the lost prince of an alien race of space warriors called Saiyans (Saiya-jin in the Japanese), who originally took over a planet full of peaceful people to reign over them, and then subsequently began working for a powerful, galactic overlord to purge planets and sell them to the highest bidder as members of the Planet Trade Organization.  Sci-fi at its potential best, right?  Well, maybe…  If you’re a fan fiction writer like me and tend to expand on this portion of Vegeta’s (previously displayed BAMF) past, or alternate universe expansions of the story line.  But let’s take a break from that.


According to Urban Dictionary, the term “schediaphilia” refers to the sexual attraction or love of a cartoon or animated character.  Now, in this definition we see the words “exclusive sexual attraction”, which I would like to tone down a bit by saying I know several people with this supposed attraction who still feel normal attraction to REAL human beings.  I include myself in this group of people.  There are women I know who are completely in love with the idea of Vegeta (again, the BAMF you see above), who are married or have long-term boyfriends and lead normal lives.  Again, including me.

My fan fiction is linked in this blog, and if you or anyone you know suffers from schediaphilia relating to Prince Vegeta and his smirky psychosis, feel free to go read to your heart’s content.  There are also links to several amazing other fan fictions involving his character on my page there.

So now that we know what a schediaphile is, let’s talk more about Vegeta.  Yep, this guy:


As I said, without going into too much detail about the plot line or Dragon Ball or Dragon Ball Z, I think a lot about his character in a literary sense that I’m sure Akira Toriyama never intended.  He might even be a bit disturbed by how deeply I discuss Vegeta’s character with some of my other DBZ fan friends.  Toriyama-sensei has admitted on several interview occasions that he “hated” Vegeta’s character, which astounds me.

Vegeta’s personal struggle in Dragonball Z was always (and still remains) of great interest to me.  Fans and critics alike tend to devalue the progression of his character from psychotic, megalomaniac villain in the beginning of the show, to self-sacrificing and somewhat self-effacing (though never truly, hah!) hero at the end of the show.  Of course, critics of the show tend to devalue DB in general as a meaningless and “boring” action cartoon, but that’s a whole other rant.


Anyway, for Vegeta, he attains a dynamic that isn’t seen in most of the characters in the entire Dragon Ball universe, with the exception of maybe Piccolo.  Goku is the same character from the beginning to the end, and in fact – the dude leaves his family more than he’s with them just so he can get stronger and protect the Earth, and we are meant to believe that he is a caring and ‘softhearted’ Saiyan Warrior, who forgot his mission to destroy Earth.  Maybe, but he sure didn’t forget his reason for existing in the first place, which was of course to be an ultimate fighting machine.

Toriyama drew and wrote in Vegeta’s character so well that, by the middle of the Majin/World Tournament Arc I’m left with a deep feeling of sadness and empathy for Vegeta as I’d never felt, even during the Cell Saga (since he was such a colossal prick in that saga).  But one can see WHY he was, one can even speculate on it, and THAT’S why all of my fan fiction centers on his character.  What happened to him between the ages of 5 and 30ish (when he first came to Earth)?  For 25 years Vegeta was subjected to a life of subjugation by someone he hated with all his being (Frieza).  During the entire Namek Story Arc we see this obsession Vegeta has with obtaining the Dragon Balls and eternal life so that he can DESTROY Frieza, the little overlord I mentioned earlier who stole Vegeta’s throne from him and exterminated the rest of the Saiyan species.  In fact, if one were to watch the entire Namek Arc, and then the short but intense battle sequence between Vegeta and Frieza, followed by the former’s subsequent ass-beating and death, one can see the internal struggle his character has just by looking at the poor guy moments before his demise.  Witness:


See that?  Those are tears of friggin anger, betrayal and outright sorrow that he could not attain his self-proclaimed right to destroy his tormentor.

The possibilities are endless and I love, absolutely adore, his character and his development.  The guy starts the show, and enters the manga, with a vicious obsession to obtain eternal life, and a personality disorder that may even be hard to diagnose using the DSM.  By the end, he’s got two children by an Earthling named Bulma (who is another fabulous female character who doesn’t get enough attention) and has been risen from the dead, given another chance at life because he didn’t have an “evil soul”.  Now, I’ve been writing fan fiction on and off for nearly 13 years, and if you count the fan fiction I wrote in high school with my friends involving Gavin Rossdale, then I suppose you could say I’ve been writing it for about 17 years. :face palm:  Don’t tell him that.

Original fiction well, you could say I’ve been writing that for about 20 years, and being that I’m only 32, well… you see what I mean.

All of this noted, no one has ever piqued my interest as much as Vegeta (or at least, no one has stoked my muse as much, let’s put it that way).  Spike Spiegel piqued my interest plenty, as well as Vash the Stampede, Domon Kasshu, Yuji Kaido and Marlene Angel.  For anyone not familiar with anime (and you should be, damn it), the above are main characters in the animes, respectively: Cowboy Bebop, Trigun, Mobile Fighter G Gundam and Blue Gender.  All fabulous and all interesting, if you’re not into beefed up aliens beating the crap out of one another, like I am, but are also huge sci-fi nerds.

I think this may end my nerd rant.  How deep is my love?  Vegeta, I heart you.  Don’t let the lizard-man get you down, and keep truckin’ warrior-soul.  Keep truckin’.

Wait, isn’t the show over?


The Grand Ol’ Space Opry – “The Snow Queen” by Joan D. Vinge

Although one can read my review of “The Snow Queen”, by consummate authoress Joan D. Vinge on the link here, I can only elaborate on the praise from here. This book inspired me to continue writing science fiction at an adult/professional level. At the tender age of 18, while perusing the shelves of a used book store in Estes Park, Colorado, I found an old copy of this book (then out of print).  I had seen it in once, amongst the piles and piles of old books kept in boxes down in my parents’ cellar, and was curious to read it on my own (since first having seen it, I was sure they had donated or gotten rid of the books). It is the kind of story that stays with you long after you’ve read it.  Ms. Vinge has the ability to connect with her readers in a way I’ve never yet been able to understand.  She is my role model, her writing has inspired me to become a better author, and her deep connections to her characters are a model that any author should aspire to.  The ‘thing’ about science fiction as I’ve ranted about before is the ability to let your readers relate to the characters, despite their complete “other-ness” and often “inhuman” nature.

Who would have watched Star Trek if, deep down in your heart of hearts, you couldn’t relate to the seemingly emotionless Vulcan, Mr. Spock?  Leonard Nimoy, along with the writers of the series, was able to convey this empathy through his acting and through the direction of the series creators.

Ms. Vinge is such a “director”.  Her characters are alive in and of themselves, and come alive through her incredibly personal, deeply emotional dialogue and prose.

I believe she now occasionally teaches classes and seminars/workshops in California, and were I more financially able, I would attend in a heartbeat.  I recommend her books to anyone who can tear the heart out of a story and appreciate the effort it took on the part of the author to compel you to do so.

If we cannot relate to our art, as it imitates life, then what in the hell can we relate to?

Discovery and innovation are our soul, as one human race.  Ms. Vinge exemplifies this with such grace that it is difficult to disagree.  Read her.


Is there anyone out there, and why does it matter?

People ask me why I write science fiction.  No, really they do.

Science fiction is the fabric of human imagination; I am absolutely convinced of this fact.  I’m not convinced of it because I feel it’s better than any other type of fiction, or because it somehow trumps the conventional tropes of modern literature or that people who write other types of fiction are somehow less creative than sci-fi.

The reason I’m convinced that it is the fabric of human imagination is because, although it is not better to read or superior to other genres, I find that sci-fi (and fantasy) are the more difficult genres to create as an author.

Think about this; when an author creates sci-fi, or fantasy, there has to be enough reality intertwined in the fabric of your non-reality for it to be sympathetic to your audience.  The audience needs to relate to your non-reality enough so that for them, it’s interesting and dynamic and they WANT to be a part of it.

Science fiction is, at its heart, the exploratory spirit of humanity.  We want to know what’s out there…  We want to know if there are other planets that sustain life, and we want to know how many of them are like us, or sort of like us, or peaceful, hostile, ugly, beautiful–!  I could go on.  Not only that, but as a writer who has been telling stories since the 7th grade and before I knew really what aliens were, this genre creates an entire platform on which to create something never created before, even if it doesn’t involve extra-terrestrials.  We build on the ideas of others and use the inspiration of past science fiction authors as a basis for the story we want to tell; the possibilities become so endless that, for a story-teller it is as vast as the universe itself.  Infinite.

Science Fiction matters because, as a single people, we want to discover.  We need to discover, and that is the single most important element in human society since the beginning of time.

I hope I can explore that sentiment in this blog.  I want to explore the story I’m currently working on, as well as works by other amazing authors of science fiction.

Join me~~~!  ^_^