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Creativity, Writer’s Block, and the power of “Yes, And?”

Creativity comes from the ability to accept multiple correct options. It’s the ability to look at a thing and ask what else it could be. It’s saying “That works” or “That’s true” to one option and then finding more options which are also functional and true. Also known as the “Yes, and?” game.

The what now you lunatic? I’m sure I hear some of you saying, to which I say “this has its origins in theatre sports” and you probably find that to be all the explanation you needed for the apparent madness. Not that such a thing will prevent me from explaining further anyway.

In improvisational comedy, the “Yes, and…” principle is to agree with whatever idea your fellow improvisor has put forward (to continue the scene they have begun) and add to it, as opposed to blocking them – which would be to break the potential suspension of disbelief by contradicting what has already been created. This non-judgemental approach of accepting ideas and continuing is also the basis behind the concept of brainstorming – the process of throwing out idea after idea without rejecting any of them.

Asking “Yes, and?” instead of making an immediate judgement call is very important to creative thinking – not only does it allow you to keep coming up with new ideas (which, even if all the earlier ideas were good themselves, may yet be better) but it also keeps you from getting locked in to one line (trench, really) of thinking.

If you examine ideas one by one and dismiss them as they come, you begin to convince yourself that something must happen a certain way, that there are no other options, and/or that something cannot be done. This thought process reduces creativity in general, prevents new ideas from being tested and new inventions from making the world a better place (“it’s never been done, so it’s a bad idea” and such thoughts tend to be attached to this) and – most importantly for this blog – is the core of many cases of writer’s block. It’s what happens when a writer is so convinced they must take their character from A to B – because B was the first place they thought of – that they become bogged down trying to figure out how instead of asking why A doesn’t just go to C, D, X, Y, Z, or Albuquerque instead.

Obviously, not ever answer a brainstorming session – or a game of Yes, and? – produces will be viable. But the point of both is not to find The Right Answer, but rather there is no one right answer. There are many right answers and you limit and inhibit yourself if you dismiss them in search of one shining beacon of perfect truth and correctness.

Playing Yes, and? is fairly simple – you simply pose a problem as a question and then provide an answer. Then you say (or, if you have trouble breaking out of the judgmental mindset of automatically analysing each option and dismissing it instead of continuing, you get someone else to say) “Yes, and?” and provide another answer. This pattern continues until you genuinely cannot think of anymore – something which will occur far later than you expect to be unable to think of any more, as your mind (thanks to the right/wrong approach to tests in most educational systems) has been trained to find no more than two options at a time, under normal circumstances (the “right answer” and the “wrong answer”). The point of the Yes, and? game, however, is to remove those normal circumstances. It’s not unlike having a physical trainer tell you to do push ups until you can’t do it anymore and then do ten more.

Here’s an example more suited to fiction:

Your hero is racing toward the tower where his princess is trapped. He comes to the stairway only to find that it was destroyed earlier when he was being chase by the dragon. Alas, you think, now how are you supposed to get the prince up those stairs? He cannot jump it and he cannot fly! And, thus, writer’s block sets in. You find you cannot take your prince up the expected path, but that is the right answer, so you cannot move forward at all. You have become convinced that is the route he must take, so all your efforts come back to finding a way for him to do something he cannot do. You’ve dug yourself into a trench of thought. This is the only way you have considered for him to go, and it is not working, so there is no way to move on. But, of course, he must run up the stairs that’s what princes do. Its “the right answer”. It’s the wrong question.

In this scenario, the true question is: How do you remove a princess from a tower?

Climb the stairs, you answer, but that’s not working. Yes, says the game, and? What else?

…Climb to her window. Yes, and? Build a ramp. Yes, and? Knock the tower down. Yes, and? Ask her to come down. Yes, and? Give her what she needs to remove herself. Yes, and? Lift her out through the roof. Yes, and? Ask a friendly dragon to fly her out! Yes, AND? Disinherit her. YES! AND?

Climb to her window and climb the stairs are the obvious answers, here, given that they are the known, safe, traditional answers tried and tested by most fairy tales. When you think about heroes rescuing princesses from towers, you probably either imagine Rapunzel and her hair, or Prince-What’s-His-Name-Again-I’m-Sure-He-Had-One, from Sleeping Beauty, charging up the stairs after defeating Maleficent as a dragon. But if you stop there your hero will be stuck forever at the base of the tower and your story will be stuck forever in the dark and dusty drawer realms of half-finished manuscripts instead of marching through adversity to publication.

Are all of the options the game created viable for your hero? Probably not. But they are options. It might not suit your story to have the hero solve the problem of the trapped princess preventing anyone from ruling the land by having her disinherited. Maybe he actually cares about her as a person and wants to get her to safety. But maybe it is – to your surprise – the kind of story where the political situation can be resolved by simply disinheriting the troublesome party so that their hostage-taker cannot rule through them. Maybe you can’t convince the dragon to be helpful and rescue the princess – or it’s all too Shrek for you – but you think about the options build a ramp and give her what she needs to remove herself and realise that what the hero needs to do is call up to her and have them together find a way to use her bedsheets to get her down across the vast un-jumpable hole in the stairs. She can slide down part way and he can catch her. And suddenly, right there, you have a solution. The writer’s block in the road has been defeated.

 

Obviously, it doesn’t work for all kinds of writers’ block, but if you’re stuck on finding a way to make something happen in your story, a round of Yes, and? might just clear it up for you.

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Posted by on November 28, 2017 in On Writing

 

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The Internal Conflict Games

No person is truly static. No matter how much we try, we still change. The person you were yesterday is different from the person you are today. The person of tomorrow may become someone yesterday’s self would never approve of. That which mattered more than anything a year ago may be utterly pointless next Tuesday.

Time, however, is not our only form of movement. We care – in an abstract sort of way – about the state of the world and what is best for everyone. We care – in a far more definite way – about the state of our loved ones and what is best for us. We do these things simultaneously. We expect the heroic character to, of course, sacrifice their comforts or take a third option for the sake of “the people” – that is; for US. It could be argued that human virtue – in the form of the desire to help others – is an entirely selfish construct.

This is supposed to be a post on writing. Somehow, it has become philosophy. Perhaps, that is, because philosophy (of ethics, of politics, even of metaphysics) is the nebulous ghost of theory, which is then put to the test in the thought experiment we call fiction. After all, “right” and “wrong” sounds all well and good in theory, but the entire concept tends to crash and burn when we attempt to put it into practise.

If there was a true answer out there, we wouldn’t have spent the entire history of the human species fighting over it.

Justice, right, wrong, good, evil, duty, worth, bacon, necktie, these are all social constructs. They are not universal truths. The general agreement in society is that good people try to help as many other people as possible – that the Good Guys are there to help the masses – and the general population will always support stories of this fashion, because it encourages others to protect them in times of crisis. In other words: the common view of right and wrong is inherently biased in favour of personal gain.

Apart from not upsetting your readers, there is no reason you have to hold to this point of view in your writing. If you write a protagonist who believes that people aren’t worth saving, but who saves them anyway, you are complying with this social construct. If you do not comply with this heavily enforced and entirely arbitrary ruling on what “Right” is, your character will be labelled as a villain and you yourself may gain a similar label.

So, what do you do? Do you do what is easy or do you do what is … well, it isn’t “right” is it? It’s just what you believe is right. Do you take the path of least resistance or do you do what you believe in?

Here’s the funny thing about that: it doesn’t matter.

Oh, it’ll certainly matter to you – if you even view the above dilemma as a dilemma at all. What matters in reality is: what you can live with (most people wouldn’t call it a dilemma because they stand to gain from the status quo of what “heroic” means, while I don’t view it as a dilemma because I’m fed up with the status quo telling me to sacrifice myself for others who will never return the favour – and often view it as something I owe them, not that I’ve ever done any hero-ing, but from the philosophical standpoint).

What matters in fiction is the existence of the dilemma itself.

We call this internal conflict. The backbone of character-focused works. The bloody, beating heart of a deep and rounded character. The thing that inevitably spawns dozens of alternative character interpretations and fan arguments about who was “right” – even if the work explicitly says that no such thing as “right” exists.

Internal conflict can be very subtle. What we believe about one thing may clash with what we believe about another – and we may go on believing both until something, from outside or inside, puts them visibly at loggerheads.

It does not have to be as showy as “who do I save” (maybe quit and go have pizza, instead? They’ll both be goners by the time you’ve decided anyway) or “who do I side with?” (again, maybe just go have pizza). It does not exist when a Hero is clearly The Good Guy and the Temptation by The Bad Guy is painfully obvious and the Hero would never do that anyway because he’s on the side of Good.

Internal conflict is subtle. It is murky. It is that grey area where right and wrong are entirely arbitrary ideals which the protagonist is creating, altering, and eventually judging all on their own. If which choice is “the right thing to do” is obvious, there can be no conflict because the answer is, again, OBVIOUS.

What is right? What is wrong? Is there right? Is there wrong? What do I want to do? What do I think I should do? Is what society thinks I should do right? What the heck would society know about it anyway?

Internal conflict – or, as Martin paraphrasing Faulkner put it “the human heart in conflict with itself” – is philosophy. Specifically, it is all those bright, clear theories mercilessly taken away from their loving academics and dropped into a giant, gruesome test simulator by the world’s authors. Because academic philosophy is all nice in theory, but it really doesn’t understand or know how to cope with humanity and reality.

Or, if you want to think of it that way, internal conflict is The Hunger Games for ideologies. Which, let’s be honest, makes it pretty bloody interesting.

 
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Posted by on October 18, 2017 in On Writing

 

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The Zero Was Important, And Aces Are Too

When I talk about being an Asexual Aromantic, one of the questions I get asked most (right after “Do you, not aces in general but you specifically you can tell I mean it’s you specifically because I’m leering and emphasising YOU in the question with a distinctive change in pitch, masturbate?”) is “why bother to talk about it if you just want to not-do something?”

The general expectation of these people being, of course, that the only thing which makes Asexual and Aromantic life different from that of sexual and romantic persons is that you just “don’t do” certain things. While some of this stems from genuine confusion over how a lack (for very deep want of a better word) of something can be such an issue. The humorous part of me just wants to reply to that by bringing up how difficult maths with Roman numerals was in comparison to the Arabic numbering system with their impressive invention of the ZERO (a mark to represent a number that was literally nothing), or how vacuums work and changed the world. I would love to leave it at that.

But I can’t. I can’t because for every person who genuinely doesn’t get it, there’s another two who ask the same question aggressively. Not asking because they don’t understand the fuss, asking because they – on some, most likely subconscious, level – blame the Aces and Aros for coming out and making a point of their existence. Asking because they think that we’re making something out of nothing and that if we all just kept our non-interest to ourselves we wouldn’t be discriminated against, or harassed, or – y’know – raped and told to be grateful that our attackers tried to “fix” us.

But that’s not how it works. The modern, global, society is in love with love. It is hypersexualised. It is not a place in which an Ace or an Aro (not the same thing, guys!) can slide under the radar.

What radar? You know which radar. The family gathering “Have you found someone yet?” radar. The girl/guy talk “Did you think X or Z was hotter?” radar. The causal chit-chat “Oh you’re single-that’s-the-same-as-available-don’t-worry-you’ll-find-someone-oneday” radar. The “Are you sexually active? Please don’t lie I’m your doctor I need to know” radar. The “Why didn’t you think it was sad that they didn’t get together in [fiction]? Do you WANT to be a crazy cat lady?!?” radar.

And if you’re thinking “But those are all just every day normal conversations”: yeah. That’s the point. Colleagues chit chat about their family lives. Family members and friends want to know when you’ve found someone and how it’s going because they “Just want you to be happy” – a happiness which fits very snugly into their own desires but is completely inappropriate for yours and which they will force you into whether you like it or not. Friends talk about their love lives, and their sex lives, and make “friendly” jabs about you if you don’t join in.

If you’re an Ace or Aro you can get away with dodging these questions …for a little while. But these are people you see regularly. They notice if you’ve never “found the time/the right person/aren’t ready for that right now”. They can count. And they can remember. And then they get PUSHY. I know this guy/girl whod be perfect for you! Im just trying to help! Do you WANT to end up a crazy cat lady? Thats [your name], theyre a prude. Or maybe a sociopath. Or something.  But whyyyyyy. I just want to fix you! WHY WONT YOU LET ME FIX YOU!?!?” 

…On and on and on.

No one should have to spend their life dodging questions like that. No one should have to suffer from anxiety or start conversations already planning escape routes. No one should have to feel dread at a gathering because they know that That Question is coming for them, sooner or later.

We live in a society where Romantic (which is generally conflated with Sexual) love is considered the highest good, the most important relationship, and the only thing that really makes life worth living. If you admit to not being into that, you’re told you’re broken. Or a serial killer.

And if that makes you think that coming out or not is irrelevant, let me make one thing clear: there is a huge difference, for Aces and Aros, between coming out by force – having to stumble through an explanation that you’re not really into something but not having the right words, which everyone around you will treat as a negotiation or a challenge – and coming out by choice.

Being able to just say “I’m asexual” or “I’m aromantic”, or “I’m an asexual aromantic” is a HUGE deal. It’s not a stumbled, confused attempt to explain something the other person has no concept of and no reason to consider it a concept. It’s clear. It’s simple. It’s a fact. It’s not a challenge. It’s not an apology. It’s not a mistake. And it’s NOT UP FOR NEGOTIATION.

It’s the difference between having to say “Um, well, Team A has not scored yet so, um, their score is well it doesn’t exist. Not like they aren’t playing but they haven’t got any points. Not necessarily in the minuses but less than one. Is less than one a thing? Um, no, not a half. Like …neither half?” or just holding up a scorecard with a 0 on it.

 

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Posted by on August 25, 2017 in On Reality

 

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Author Status 5 – This Is Going To Take A While

So… once again I have missed most of a month (again due to back problems) and my last few posts haven’t exactly been up to the standard I used to hold myself to.

There have been so many things this year that I started but never managed to finish (I have a half-made patreon account and a microphone sitting in the cupboard waiting for me to get on with youtube), and so many other things I have to do (like my day job, which has upped the number of responsibilities I have, and this blog which I am starting to hate). I’m not getting anything done.

This hasn’t been a good year for my writing. My writing advice book is barely selling and I have c.40 copies sitting in a box – quietly mocking me for having hope. I haven’t been able to get any of my other projects to work. Sometimes I feel like my muse has died from grief. Somewhere between me and my next publication – be it a book or just a good blog post – are the spectres of my greatest fears Mdm. Mediocrity and General Failure. I can’t see them and I reach out to work and then there they are, staring at me. To get past them to my muse I have to look them in the eyes, have to believe they won’t – can’t – touch me and walk past, but I can’t. I can’t stand to look at them, because I’m afraid of what I’ll see. I’m afraid that if I look up, the monsters staring back at me will be the monster in my bathroom mirror. A reflection of truth – and truth is a monster. No one wants to have to face what they really are.

All that being said, this was meant to be an update on how my next project is going.  It’s not. It SHOULD have been a fairly simple project, as it was a re-write of a fanfic I once wrote – which was 99.99% original material and characters as it focused on the mostly glossed over part of a character’s backstory, some sixty years before the canon, and only had four canon characters in a cast of thirty+ OCs (of whom three were bit-parts or one-off names in canon and only one canon character was important in the canon). It’s being difficult. I’m not sure if that’s because I feel like I’ve already told this story or because I’m terrified that my next book will go down as unnoticed as my first. I keep telling myself that it’s stupid to be afraid it will go unnoticed, because two of my fanfics were recommended on their respective canon’s TVTropes fanfic recs pages, and I’m cannibalising (you’ll get the joke later) parts of Schaduw Wereld (the bits which aren’t canon, the other canon, or Norse Mythology – the bits I invented) to patch the holes left in Little Differences by the removal of the 0.01% canon that it contained in fanfic form.

I took down my fanfics before publishing Help! My Story Has the Mary-Sue Disease because I wanted to be as legally in the clear as possible and I didn’t want to leave any plot twists open for discovery for those who hadn’t already read Little Differences and/or Schaduw Wereld. When I took them down I contacted all their fans I could and offered to send them a copy, provided they did not put the stories up or share them around (private use only). I also said I hoped to publish the re-write (or Ascended Fanfic as TVTropes calls it) in late 2017. That isn’t going to happen. It’ll be something like mid-2018 at the earliest (and, in my defence, Differences was 200K words long).

But if you were looking forward to a rewrite, don’t despair, eventually I’ll blindfold myself long enough to get past the monsters in the mirror.

 
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Posted by on August 2, 2017 in On L.C. Morgenstern's Work

 

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Fantastically Disturbing Implications

This is more musing on my part than an educational – or ranting – essay.

 

Fantasy, as a genre, has become a tree of many different sub-genres and trends – all sprouting, according to most, from Tolkien’s magnum opus. Tolkien, however, based his work heavily on myths, epics, and sagas of real world cultures. In this way, it was inevitable that the genre would have a long history and a deep fascination with heroes and royals and, eventually, knights.

The strange thing, however, is that while most of fantasy has adapted to new, modern, ideas – which has given us all sorts of modern settings – fantasy in general has not parted with the morality to which that focus on heroes, royalty and knights belongs. In this way, we have “modern” stories set in medieval worlds where the female protagonists display cliché, shallow, and period inappropriate feminist ideas, but she almost always turns out to be a princess. That, however, is just one of many, many, examples of residual classism and racism in fantasy.

But the funny thing is, it’s more often the fans than the authors whose ideas display a backwards, classist, belief – one which, I suspect, they don’t even realise they are favouring. Here’re some examples.

In the A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones fandom, the most popular type of theory is the Character X is secretly a House/Noble Character Z. And that’s the thing, it’s always that they have secret noble (or nobler, in terms of going from one house to another) blood.

The High Sparrow – commoner leading a commoner anti-nobility religious movement? Must secretly be Lord Howland Reed advancing his liege lord’s family’s political goals. He can’t possibly be a lower-class person taking up arms because he’s sick of the nobility butchering the lower classes while they fight over a stupid pointy chair. No way.

The King Beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder: a wildling raised as a soldier by his people’s enemies, returned to his people to lead them to give said enemies a massive headache? Nah, he can’t possibly really be a savage/Pict wilding. He has to secretly be a white Westerosi nobleman. It can’t just be that he is one of many characters who parallel each other – which is a grand literary tradition – because that would mean the northern savages managed to get their act together and pose a real threat without a Mighty Whitey Westerosi to carry the white Westerosi man’s burden and help them. Oh, he is an almost perfect copy-paste-from-history of King Alaric of the Goths – who was once a Roman soldier – and the German national hero Arminius (who also was raised by Romans and proceeded to kick Roman arse)? And in a setting which is basically The War of the Roses + Magic + Sex? Nah, he’s still got to secretly be Prince Rhaegar or Ser Arthur of House Dayne. Otherwise the savages wildlings might not only be competent, but have elected a competent leader where all the noble blooded characters who inherit their power just keep fucking things up.

Likewise, Heroic Bastard Jon Snow can’t possibly really be a bastard. He must secretly have been legitimate (despite the legal impossibility of his father taking a second wife) or legitimised (but preferably legitimate). It’s not like real history has bastards becoming king. It’s not like people call William the Conqueror “William the Bastard” for a reason. Or like King Arthur Pendragon was the bastard of King Ulthor’s rape-by-deception of a foreign queen. Or like Martin’s own fictional history has bastard kings like the one who founded House Justman or bastards of kings who manage to incite half the realm into trying to crown them despite being bastards with legitimate half-brothers like Daemon Blackfyre. After all, he absolutely has to become king in the end, because it’s not like his entire plot line is about how the fight for the spikey chair is irrelevant or how bastards can be just as good as other people…

I think I need to turn the sarcasm off now, before we all drown in it, but I think you get the point.

And sure, you could argue that ASOIAF/GOT is focused on the nobility and has a major character revealed as secretly royalty (or, more correctly, a royal bastard) so it’s only natural that the fans would assume that everyone who has anything important to do – any real effect on the plot – must secretly have noble blood, but it’s not just ASOIAF/GOT fans.

After romance/porn, the second most common plot in Harry Potter fanfics was that Harry/Hermione/other discovers s/he’s secretly the heir of [Ancient Powerful Wizard/Family] or his mother was secretly not muggleborn/she’s adopted and that s/he’s therefore a pureblood… This, I might remind you, was a canon story where the pureblood elitists were the bad guys.

This trend – of justifying how awesome characters are by ‘revealing’ them as having some ancestry of rank and privilege – is disturbing. It’s also prevalent in just about every fantasy fandom (except the children’s fantasy of My Little Pony, where being a Princess is something you explicitly earn by being awesome at friendship).

 

Fantasy is the genre we run to when we want to escape from our world – where luck is a major factor in whether or not you succeed – and go to a place where the world values us based on what we think it ought to value. What does it say about us, as a society, that our escapist fantasy is not about succeeding because you are talented, or worked hard, or were kind, but where you succeed if you are born of the right – elite and wealthy – bloodline?

How is it that we, as fandoms – as a society – talk of equality and inner value, but our fantasies still support the idea that if you don’t have the right blood you aren’t really worth anything?

 
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Posted by on July 4, 2017 in On Folklore, On Writing

 

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Contrast, Foreshadowing, Mood, Ice and Fire

Something that’s been driving me nuts in the A Song of Ice and Fire fandom lately is all the jokes about how George R.R. Martin includes so many food descriptions because he is fat. Somehow, fans have convinced themselves that those two things go together – because “obviously” writers who aren’t stick figures can’t possibly have self-control or the capacity to tell when one of their interests does not belong in their story. /sarcasm.

Now, most fans aren’t doing this, but an annoyingly large amount of them are and it’s them that are driving me batty. But I digress.

During the first few books of ASOIAF there has been a long summer (so there is plenty of food), and only a few wars. Towns are sacked and burned – destroying valuable crops – but famine is a man-maid phenomenon (siege-warfare) and it is only in the very north, beyond the Wall, that lack of food is already an issue. The main characters are all rich and therefore, even in a siege or famine, will be fed first – with extravagent and lavishly described meals which give the readers the feeling of decadence and how much food is available (Arya, the one wealthy character running around outside of her aristocractic background, in comparison is eating worms).

By the end of the last few books (that are currently published) only three out of nine (really ten) areas in The Seven Kingdoms have not suffered lossed crops – due to burnings and armies scavenging, and a lack of workers to collect the crops, which then rot – and of them, Dorne does not produce much food (due to it’s water shortage) and the Vale and Reach cannot support the entire surviving population of the continent – even with all the deaths from the wars. Up at the Wall, there are far to many mouths to feed and not nearly enough food for even the Watch alone to survive a winter. At this point in the story, the rich are STILL described as eating lavishly – because, again, they are rich and have hired knives to take food from the poor – while the poor are mostly starving. Meanwhile, on the eastern continent, Dany’s war on slavery has destroyed the agricultural supplies of Slavers Bay – meaning that, regardless of who wins, three cities there are dangerously close to starving.

In the two unpublished books we can predict some things: mass starvation will become enough of a problem that it will affect the rich, the combination of war in the east crushing the (slave based) economy and the series of wars – causing debt and starvation – in the west WILL result in those between the west and east (The Free Cities) being able to sell food for a massive profit but being unable to keep up with demand, and their will be more war – with more crop burnings and other starvation inducing horrors (remember: armies march on their stomaches) – before the winter even has a chance to properly arrive.

We can guess that in The Winds of Winter and A Dream of Spring the food descriptions are going to be very different. Because there isn’t going to be food anymore. Not even for the aristocrats who make up the main cast.

It’s not technically foreshadowing, but by lavishly describing food while it is available – and describing the lavish meals the rich enjoy while the poor starve, and while the rich fail to understand what starvation really means – Martin has prepped the readers’ mood. He’s prepared us to expect food to be there, to be plentiful (for the main cast), and to sound attractive. That’s going to be one hell of a sucker-punch for the readers when the true depth of winter and famine set in and the rest of the cast have to join Arya with her worms and Bran with his, ehm, “long pork”.

There is no better way to describe the lack of something – and make the readers feel it – than to first contrast it by describing that something in abundance.

I don’t live in his mind, so I can’t tell you for sure, but I’m pretty sure Martin is writing about food so much because he is writing about a world which is about to undergo a terrible winter and an even more terrible mass famine, not because his weight somehow makes him incapable of controlling what he puts into his work.

 
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Posted by on May 24, 2017 in On Writing

 

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Blog Hiatus Apology

I just realised that it’s probably ben about a month since I posted anything. I am so sorry about that. I’ve been running around like decapitated poultry trying to get ready for Armageddon this year. I – and another indie writer – will have a small stall at Armageddon Wellington (June 3-5, I think). I’m also still trying to get a youtube channel, zazzle store, and possibly a patreon started, trying to write my next book, and trying not to drown in my day job (it’s the end/start of a financial year, so I’m busy – that being said, I’m living proof that Yes Writers CAN Do Math and I really hate the “But I’m a writer, so I can’t do math and no one should point out the timeline flaws in my work” excuse some people use – but that’s beside the point).

The point is both that I’m sorry I suddenly went quiet, if there’s anyone who was disappointed by that, and also that I’m probably not going to be posting as often anymore, because I just don’t have enough time.

 
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Posted by on May 14, 2017 in Administrative

 

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