Robert J. Sawyer interview at SF Site

From A Conversation with Robert J. Sawyer — Part 1, here is Robert J. Sawyer on trilogies:

“I still think trilogies are usually bad artistically for SF — although not as bad as never-ending series. […] I’ve seen far too many great authors be trapped into writing series. I’d much rather see what else Lois McMaster Bujold has up her sleeve besides Miles, or that Anne McCaffrey has besides Pern, or Orson Scott Card is thinking about other than Ender, but the economics of the industry are that publishers will offer authors more — at least double, and sometimes much more than that — for a new book in a successful series rather than a stand-alone, even if that stand-alone would be artistically and intellectually more satisfying.”

Okay, why do publishers pay more for a book in a successful series? Because they know that people are more likely to buy a book in a series. Why are people more likely to buy a new book in a series? Because they love their favourite characters, and enjoy reading about them.

Series characters are like old friends. Reading the latest Vorkosigan novel is like going down to the pub for a drink with your pal from University who is just back from an exotic holiday. A stand-alone novel is more like going out clubbing on a Friday night, and hoping to score with that cutie in the purple hot pants. You can have great fun doing both. (And in both cases there is the possibility that you’ll end up in an alley behind the pub or club chundering in the gutter. But maybe that’s taking the metaphor too far. Maybe.)

I disagree with Sawyer’s assertion that series are “artistically” bad for SF. In fact, I think that SF needs more ongoing series. Series give an author the opportunity to develop characters over multiple books. Provided that each story stands on its own (for the casual reader), someone who has been following the series will take away more from the book, precisely because they can make connections between events and peripheral figures in the characters’ pasts (and futures).

If you look at the crime genre, series novels dominate the bookshelves. In fact, I doubt if a crime publisher will give you a second glance unless you convince them that you have the next novel already half written.

One of my favourite series characters is Elvis Cole, hero of most of Robert Crais’ books. In the last Elvis Cole novel, LA Requiem, Cole and his partner Joe Pike come under repeated personal physical and emotional assault, from almost every possible angle. I cried at the end of that book. Twice. On a bus. In the Edinburgh rush hour. The story was one of the most painful and moving I have read recently. But would it have been quite so powerful if I hadn’t built up the love for those characters over the space of six or seven prior books? I don’t think that it would.

Yet, on the other hand, if you have a series, you can be 99% sure that the hero is going to survive. They may come away with a few more scars, but you don’t kill off a character. Not only will your publisher demand your head on a plate for killing the golden-egged goose, but you’ll also probably have to cope with homicidal fans who want to break your legs and keep you locked in a little room until you write the character back to life. (Or was that a Stephen King book?)

So in a series, Death may be on the line, but you can be fairly sure He’s wielding a toy plastic scythe.

It’s a balancing act. On the one hand, a series gives an author the freedom to explore a character in much greater depth than in a single book. But not all authors take that opportunity, and it can be too easily abused by the certainty of survival. On the other hand, the stand-alone book gives you the excitement of really not knowing how it’s going to end. But then, how often–really–do things turn out horribly nasty for the hero?

It’s like the old school mate and the Friday night hottie. Some days you want the friend, some days the frisson. On balance, though, I think I prefer my friends from the series. Which is why I want more of them.

Or maybe I’m just getting too old for hot pants.

SF update

As if to prove me wrong about the deficiencies of their web site, the ConJosé front page now has a link to the 2002 Hugo winners. And I also found a weblog written by one of the conrunners: Cheryl Morgan. The blog is a subsection of Emerald City, Cheryl’s (primarily reviews-oriented) webzine. Excellent site –definitely one to bookmark.

Also on an SFnal note, Spider Robinson’s story Melancholy Elephants is now available for free on the Baen web site.

The Baen web site just keeps getting better. I know of no other publisher that makes its catalogue so easily available. This site is really a masterpiece of simplicity and functionality. And it’s ideologically sound, too! They run the Baen Free Library, which is a place where you can download free, complete books. There are no strings attached. The idea is that easily available free samples of an author’s work are likely to make you want to read more by that person. So you’ll go out and buy their books. And according to the statistics they’ve gathered, it works.

And if this wasn’t enough, they run also run a service called “Webscriptions”, which is allows you to cheaply read electronic versions of new novels before from Baen’s catalogue before they hit the shop shelves. And the fact that it’s been running since September 1999–and they haven’t withdrawn it–means that it’s working out for them. The key, of course, is keeping it all nice and simple.

Adventures in North Berwick

Alex and I had a big and wonderful adventure today. We took the train to North Berwick and went down to the beach. This isn’t the first time he’s been on a beach, but I think it might be the first time he’s been free to walk around on his own.

He was fascinated by the water’s edge: how it raced away from him, then came rushing back. All that splashy water! A couple of times, it flooded over his shoes and wet his socks. He was none too sure about this, and each time it happened he took my hand and led me further up the beach, where he investigated sea shells and sand.

We also played on the grass nearby, and had sausage rolls for lunch. Alex, oblivious to the idea of traffic, insisted on toddling over to the heavy chain railing that ran between the grass and the road, and swinging it back and forth. Then he wanted to drop our beach ball over the top of the chain, and crawl underneath to get it back. At least he seems to have developed the sense that we don’t want him to play in the road: he didn’t step any further out than was necessary to grab the ball and give it back to me.

The weather was wonderful until about 2 o’clock, when it started to cloud over and get a bit chilly. We took the 15:20 train back, and wandered up the High Street and the Bridges before catching a bus home. Finally, we stopped off at the playpark. Alex had another half hour of running from swings to slide to bouncy animals, before getting tired and pulling himself up onto one of the benches. And falling off it.

No wonder that he started throwing cushions down to the floor, and nesting on them at about 7! Bath, jimjams, teeth, and a story. He was asleep by quarter to eight. And while he lay in my arms in the rocking chair, I drifted off for about five minutes, too.

Mmmmmm! I love Wednesdays!

Saturday stuff

On Saturday we went Geocaching in the Murieston area of Livingston. It was a lovely day, if a bit windy, and we all had a fun time wandering around the paths and trails. The actual cache we were looking for was located out in the countryside, in a spot with a marvellous view of an old arched railway bridge.

But possibly the best part of the day came after we’d taken the train back to Edinburgh. We got off at Haymarket and walked up to Princes St. After a short side trip to Waterstones (to pick up the new Michael Marshall Smith book) and Maccas (for some strawberry milkshakes) we wandered down to the kids’ play area in the gardens.

Alex is now big enough that, for much of the time, we can leave him to toddle around play areas on his own. We don’t need to follow two steps behind him any more. The bigger kids usually give him space, and he really enjoys exploring the climbing frames, steps, and slides on his own. (When he’s particularly excited he still grabs us by the hand and leads us to wherever he’s going, though.

After a few trips up and down the slide, he wandered over to an area that was more of his size: the wooden platform. It’s about two meters in diameter, barely raised from the ground, and partly surrounded by little walls just above his head height. The walls have cool toys built into them: one has a curved mirror, one has a series of plexiglass bubbles you can look out of, and another has a series of chunky chimes (well, just an ordered set of metal pipes hung vertically, really).

There was another little boy there as well. He was just Alex’s height, but looked to be maybe a wee bit older. He was playing with the chimes, and Alex went over to join him. The other boy looked up at me, and I smiled. The boy’s dad stood on the other side of the platform, looking on in amusement. I imagine I must have looked much the same: a proud grin on my face.

The two boys didn’t actully play together, but they played side-by-side. They were aware of each other, and they generally avoided getting in each other’s way. They didn’t share, or hand over between activities, but the seed of future play was there. I could see how, in just a few months time or less, Alex will be going up to other toddlers and playing with them rather than just near them.

Occasionally he would look up at me and giggle. Then Abi came over and played peek-a-boo with him behind the plexiglass bubbles. He laughed. The afternoon sun shone down on us. Alex’s future, and our own, seemed paved with golden moments just like that one.

Wil Wheaton Has A Posse

Wil Wheaton is always interesting and entertaining. Last week he wrote a pair of articles (here and here) about his relationship with Star Trek conventions. He feels ambivalent about them because on the one side he wants to leave Trek behind him, and move on as an actor and writer; but on the other hand they bring in decent money for him and his family.

Judging by the phenomenal number of comments people left for him, these articles touched a lot of people. They resonated with me because I recognize his feelings as a father and provider for his family. Earlier this year I turned down a job that I really wanted because it would have been too much of a step down in salary. Wil talks about jobs he feels that he can’t turn down, even though he doesn’t want to take them.

Wil is a celebrity. He is also an ordinary person, with a family, commitments, desires, and worries. His weblog allows him to show this side of himself to his fans. Does that make him any less of a celebrity? Does that deflate the image the public has of him? No. Exactly the opposite.

It is very easy to fawn over, envy, or even love celebrities. It is much harder to respect them. Wil pricks his own bubble too often to allow you to build him up too much. He is modest. He loves his family, and he loves what he does. He has been through some rough times, and he has emerged as stronger person–a good person. He cares. And in return, his fans really do care about him.

Wil, you rule.