That feeling when you’ve spent months tossing balls in the air—in the form of subplots & character arcs—and now they’re all coming down, but they keep hitting the ground in the wrong order and bouncing away so you have to chase after them, and it’s supposed to LOOK ELEGANT.
I’ve written 200 short stories & a half dozen novels… but I’ve only written a novel longer than 80k once before, and tying up all the threads of a piece this large into neat little bows, without getting them tangled up in each other, seems to be a skill all of its own… Continue reading “Trying to Finish My Longest Novel Yet”
Originally published in Galactic Goddesses, July 2019
“Rononia’s ultranet connection had gone out, and she couldn’t telepathically call the robot dog over its wireless connection.”
Annie squeezed the mechanical hand of her robo-nanny. The hand was cool and silvery like metal, but the smooth surface had a soft give to it like real flesh. Annie felt safe when she held Rononia’s hand.
“I need to take you home,” Rononia said, her voice low and even, but not mechanical. For all of the metallic gears visibly built into her elbows, shoulders, and anywhere else that hinged, Rononia had been given a deeply feeling, emotion-laden voice. And she was programmed to love the child she cared for. “We can’t go looking for Sparky.” Continue reading “Sparky”
That feeling when you need to insert a semi-random number into the sci-fi you’re writing, and so you look up a list of prime numbers and then bizarrely get stuck on staring at them and imagining the different emotional connotations that each of them might hold if you pick it.