sort of like a manifesto, not quite

I'm not talking about what writers should do. I'm talking about a certain thing I'm doing here, and it seems to be the thing I'm for, maybe. One nice thing about the Potlatch writers conference is that they liked that story for what it was really doing, and that was interesting. They used the word "gritty," which I've been repeating to myself over and over. I used it a little to describe the setting of The Conduit but I have just begun to think of it as an overarching quality. But it's not what I used to think people meant when they said "gritty," which was grim and stark and monochromatic -- either despairing or lost-cause-determined. And I'm not doing that. There are lots of colors, spring flowers, bright yarn acquired by raveling old sweaters, sunsets, sunrises, breezes, poignant pretty sensory things. And there's, I hope, a sense of wonder both for the world as it is and the world as it could be. And hope, I think, in the face of terrible things. Or harsh ones -- I don't want to write gore and torture. (this is only a little bit residual from my childhood superstition that anything I created would become real and I would be responsible for the sufferings of my characters)

Okay. The manifesto part is this.

It's possible to have triumphant characters who don't leave their "gritty" milieu and become Lords of All Space. It's possible to write about honor and not have the characters be either mafiosi or the scions of great houses. It's possible to have a sense of wonder in a world in which people work for a living and the mechanics of food production and service and transportation are visible. It's possible to have interesting conflicts that are not about admirals and sorcerors. It's possible for creatures to be beautiful if they are neither elves nor dragons. It's possible to write and love work like this without dissing the work that it's different from.

And there you have it.

My manifesto. Thank you. I'm going to go back to work now.

little things (290 words Afterwar: 580 words epic)

And an undisclosed amount on the Bella and CHain project which urgently needs a name. The epic thing is slow, but it rhymes, kind of.

I'm falling asleep here, the kitchen is filthy, and the nice fellow will be home soon, so the logical thing is to get up.