I came across an article on writing fantasy. It was written a while ago in 2005 by Sandra Miller and in this, she rehearses the arguments that most of us need when we talk about ourselves as writers–if we dare.
Personally, I steer people away from the topic as much as I can. I find warts a pretty good alternative because of their universality. Most people have had one. Some an awful lot but not anywhere they’d care to show you. But inevitably, it’s going to happen. Not warts I mean. Being asked about the writing. In Sandy’s article, there’s a lot of stuff about vanity, ego and a sharing of self. But the bit I liked best was here.
“Speculative fiction offers a necessary retreat from modern society. The twin genres of science fiction and fantasy allow the reader to move for awhile out of the context of the real world. Important issues are addressed outside of the familiar settings of more traditional genres. Speculative fiction is a much-needed respite for the mind of the reader.”
All so true.
And those of us who write fantasy and SF get to make up all of this stuff so that other people can immerse themselves completely.
I mean how much fun is that!
So they should be giving us all medals, right?
But what isn’t mentioned is what I do. I don’t really consider myself an author of speculative fiction. After all, what I’m doing is simply reporting events that have actually taken place. Don’t ask me why I got the job, it’s just the way it is. Plus the fact that the head of the Dept of Fimmigration just likes having a doctor around in case of emergencies…and his gout.
Oh, and of course there’s George Hoblip–who is a Brownie–who wants help with his follow up to 50 shades of Fae, his smash fae porn novel, which he’s called For a fistful of hollers.
Yes, well, for them it’s de rigueur–apparently.