
To those in the U.S., happy Thanksgiving! I hope whatever you feast on Thursday is abundant, delicious and entirely to your liking. Even that weird green bean casserole with the funny crunchy stuff on top.
Now I’m off to make some pies.

To those in the U.S., happy Thanksgiving! I hope whatever you feast on Thursday is abundant, delicious and entirely to your liking. Even that weird green bean casserole with the funny crunchy stuff on top.
Now I’m off to make some pies.
Last Thursday, #MGlitchat’s topic of the week was science fiction in middle grade books. I write YA rather than MG, but I was kind of jonesing for a writerly discussion (and science fiction is a subject dear to my heart), so I joined in. It proved to be a lively topic.
In the course of the hour or so I was participating, a few of us got into a side discussion of what constituted science fiction. Since I’m of, ahem, a certain age, and have been reading SF for a few decades (no, I won’t tell you how many), I ascribe to the classical definition of the genre. That is, it’s science fiction if, were you to remove the science element, there would be no story.
One of the other folks on the chat wondered if that definition is no longer valid. I think it’s a fine question to ask, but I just can’t think of another definition that would serve the same purpose. It is, after all, science fiction, so there has to be science. I guess the only question would be, can you call it SF if there’s no actual science? Or if the only “science” aspect are space ships, or laser guns, or people use unfamiliar slang?
Are there books that one might want to call science fiction, but have no science integral to the story? For instance, is Suzanne Collins The Hunger Games science fiction? It certainly has a science fiction feel to it. But what’s the science?
How about the Games themselves? There’s a great deal of science not only in the creation of the horrific arenas, but also in the tracking of the participants every moment. There’s a certain scientific aspect to the projection of the future as well (although that element of the series could also be labeled “speculative fiction,” which is a more generic term).
What about my own book, Tankborn? Is it truly science fiction? I believe it is. Yes, I could have created a straight fiction novel based on the Indian caste system but it would have been an entirely different book. Instead I used caste in a futuristic novel in which a bastardization of that system re-constitutes itself in a society that has left earth and colonized another planet. There is science in the creation of the genetically engineered GENs, science in the circuitry wired in their bodies that is used to control them, science in the devices that are used to interface with the GENs’ annexed brains. Some of the “science” in the book, e.g., my lev-cars and illusory holographic projections might not be strictly necessary to the story, but they do flesh out the setting. However if the science of the GENs were pulled out of Tankborn, many crucial aspects of the story would fall apart.
So are dystopian books, in and of themselves, automatically science fiction? I can’t speak for every dystopian out there since I haven’t read them all (yet :-)). But in addition to the Hunger Games trilogy, there are other dystopians that would certainly qualify in my mind as SF. Neal Shusterman’s Unwind is an excellent example, as is Mary E. Pearson’s The Adoration of Jenna Fox. In both books, certain scientific advances (in addition to social changes) led to the dystopian world depicted in the story. In fact, without the science and social aspects in tandem, there would not be a story.
I’d love to hear others’ opinions of what science fiction means to them. I’d like to hear what books you think are science fiction and why you think they are. For instance, I believe Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale is a fantastic SF book, but some might call it literary. So what are you reading in science fiction? And what’s science got to do with it?
I got the nickname “Evil Blue Pencil Lady” from my kids back when I was homeschooling them. It wasn’t that I was a meanie when I would edit their work (I critiqued the writer and not the person), but I was a pretty strict coach. As a consequence, both my boys are excellent writers, my older son Eric as a novelist and my younger son Ryan as an economist.
Since those days, I’ve coached many writers, giving them feedback on their manuscripts, synopses, or query letters. I’m not much of an Oreo coach–say something positive, point out a problem, finish with something positive. Instead, I’m a problem-solver. I get in there and untangle what’s not working for me and suggest ways to make it work.
So, if you’re NaNoWriMoing, my encouragement will probably not be gentle. You want to whine at me? Whine all you like, but it won’t change the fact that the words need to go on the page. Too tired, too sad, too uninspired? Then write some tired, sad, uninspired words. Just get them on the page and later you can fix them. As Nora Roberts so succinctly said, I can fix a bad page. I can’t fix a blank page. Nothing you put on that page is set in stone. You have complete freedom to write crap and later transform it into beauty.
So, yeah, I’d be demanding you run laps despite that sore ankle. And I’ll also be the first one doing the Snoopy dance of joy when you get The Call. Because I believe in you. And I know you can do it.
So get writing.
One of the folks I follow on Twitter, @supertailz, tweeted that the “protections” in the same sex marriage bill being considered in NY sounded pretty draconian (“looked awful” is how she put it). Then she wondered in her tweet “Why do they hate so much?” meaning by “they,” I assume, those that insisted those “protections” be in the bill.
I try to be charitable whenever possible, to think the best of people. So reading that tweet I thought to myself, maybe it’s not hate at all. Maybe it’s just fear–fear of the “other.” It’s still not a very meritorious thing to want to restrict the basic civil rights of others out of your own fear. But fear is a more understandable emotion than hate. Fear is generally involuntary. It’s more difficult to listen to your better angels when fear takes hold.
So maybe it’s fear and not hate. Trying to be charitable here. But then I read a caption on a photo that described someone outside the state house in NY praying to God that the bill not pass. Well, I suppose anyone can pray about anything they want, no matter how wrong-headed or evil. But two things occur to me when I think of people sending out these kinds of prayers. One, they’re interjecting religion into an issue that, damn it, ought to be a civil decision, not a religious one. Your religious beliefs tell you that two men or two women who love each other shouldn’t marry? Fine. Don’t marry a dude if you’re a dude. Don’t marry a gal if you’re a gal. Don’t go to the wedding of same. Viola! You have not violated your religious principles.
And anyway, in the US, marriage is an institution with legal, not religious ramifications (yes, you can interject religion into marriage, but that’s a separate thing). The government does not (should not!) stick their governmental noses into any issues of religion. How can the government decide not to sanction same sex marriages because it might offend a particular (or various) religions? What about those religions who not only don’t object to SSM, they consider it one of their sacraments to join in marriage all couples professing love for one another? Where’s their protection?
Which brings me to my second point about that person or persons praying that the marriage equality bill doesn’t pass. Are you seriously petitioning to God to prevent the marriages of people who love each other? Do you really think that God, who is all-loving, omniscient, who truly sees into every heart and mind, is going to say, “Gee, Joe Blow doesn’t like the idea of these particular couples getting married. Hmm. They love each other very much. They are willing to commit to one another for a lifetime, to support and care for one another. To maybe raise children together. And did I say they love each other? Ah, but Joe Blow is praying for that to never happen. I suppose I’d better grant that prayer.”
Not. Because God is not in the business of denying love. Anyone’s love. If it’s true, if it’s real, God wants more of that in the world. And if we’re lucky, instead of granting Joe Blow his wish, God will place a germ of love into Joe’s heart. So maybe when he opens his eyes after that prayer, Joe will realize that real love, even if it’s between two men or two women, is nothing to fear.