Noah Brewer just successfully defended his MA English thesis Re-Makers: The Novel in Digital Collaborative Space at the University of Georgia. As the title implies, the piece is about my novel Makers. It’s a smart piece of work, and I’m both tickled and honored.
Here’s a podcast of my last Locus column, A Prose By Any Other Name:
Back in 2005, I did something weird. I decided that I would embark on a project to write short stories with the same (or similar) titles to famous science fiction books and stories. My initial motivation for this was Ray Bradbury objecting to Michael Moore calling a movie Fahrenheit 9/11, which led Bradbury to call Moore an ‘‘asshole’’ and a ‘‘horrible human being’’ who’d ‘‘stolen’’ the title. Like many other writers, Bradbury has rightfully never shied from taking and adapting titles from other writers and works (‘‘I Sing the Body Electric’’, ‘‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’’, ‘‘The Women’’, etc.), and I thought that this was a silly thing for a respected writer to say. I suspected that, despite his denials, Bradbury disagreed with Moore’s politics and invented an ad hoc ethical code regarding titles to explain why what he did to Walt Whitman was fundamentally different from what Moore had done to him.
The more I thought about writing stories with ‘‘borrowed’’ titles, the more interesting it all got. Every time I thought about a famous title – one I hated, one I loved, one I had mixed feelings about – I found my subconscious simmering and then bubbling over with ideas. Stories – more so than novels – are often the product of odd subconscious associations. I’ll see something, I’ll see something else, the two will rub together, and wham, there’s a story idea crystallizing in my mind, and off I go to find a keyboard.
But for every story fragment that finds a complementary fragment to bond with and form into an idea, there are dozens of lonely haploids, grains of potential that never find another grain to join and synthesize with. Seven years into the project, the single most significant and reliable trait of ‘‘title’’ stories is that the titles exert a powerful gravity on story fragments, aggregating them into full-blown inspiration.
Mastering by John Taylor Williams: wryneckstudio@gmail.com
John Taylor Williams is a full-time self-employed audio engineer, producer, composer, and sound designer. In his free time, he makes beer, jewelry, odd musical instruments and furniture. He likes to meditate, to read and to cook.
Noah Brewer just successfully defended his MA English thesis Re-Makers: The Novel in Digital Collaborative Space at the University of Georgia. As the title implies, the piece is about my novel Makers. It’s a smart piece of work, and I’m both tickled and honored.
My latest Locus column, “A Prose By Any Other Name,” is a state-of-the-project report on my longrunning habit of writing science fiction stories with the same titles as famous books, and the interesting things I’ve discovered about creativity and my subconscious along the way.
The more I thought about writing stories with ‘‘borrowed’’ titles, the more interesting it all got. Every time I thought about a famous title – one I hated, one I loved, one I had mixed feelings about – I found my subconscious simmering and then bubbling over with ideas. Stories – more so than novels – are often the product of odd subconscious associations. I’ll see something, I’ll see something else, the two will rub together, and wham, there’s a story idea crystallizing in my mind, and off I go to find a keyboard.
But for every story fragment that finds a complementary fragment to bond with and form into an idea, there are dozens of lonely haploids, grains of potential that never find another grain to join and synthesize with. Seven years into the project, the single most significant and reliable trait of ‘‘title’’ stories is that the titles exert a powerful gravity on story fragments, aggregating them into full-blown inspiration.
My latest Guardian column, “Why the death of DRM would be good news for readers, writers and publishers,” looks at the wider consequences of Tor Books’ dropping DRM on its ebooks, and what it would mean for writers and publishers if DRM was dropped across the industry:
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Back when ebook sales began to kick off, most major publishers were still DRM believers — or at least, not overly skeptical of the claims of DRM vendors. They viewed the use of DRM as “better than nothing”.
When queried on the competitive implications of giving control over their business relationships to DRM vendors, they were sanguine (if not utterly dismissive). They perceived “converting ebooks” as a technical challenge beyond the average book buyer. For the absence of DRM to make any kind of difference in the marketplace, they believed that book buyers would have to download and install a special program to let them convert Kindle books to display on a Nook (or vice-versa), and they perceived this to be very unlikely.
But it’s only the widespread presence of DRM that makes “converting ebooks” into a technical challenge. Your browser “converts” all sorts of graphic formats — GIF, JPEG, PNG, etc — without ever calling your attention to it. You need to take some rather extraordinary steps to find out which format of the graphics on your screen right now are using. Unless you’re a web developer, you probably don’t even know what the different formats are, nor what their technical differences are. And you don’t need to.
Why the death of DRM would be good news for readers, writers and publishers
I’m incredibly chuffed to learn that the Japanese edition of Little Brother is up for this year’s Seiun award, along with Bacigalupi’s Windup Girl, Mieville’s The City & the City, Wilson’s Chronoliths, Delany’s Dhalgren and Ballad’s Millennium People.
I’m incredibly chuffed to learn that the Japanese edition of Little Brother is up for this year’s Seiun award, along with Bacigalupi’s Windup Girl, Mieville’s The City & the City, Wilson’s Chronoliths, Delany’s Dhalgren and Ballad’s Millennium People.
Here’s a podcast of my last Guardian column, Why did an MPAA executive join the Internet Society?:
Late in March, I started to get a steady stream of emails from concerned readers: did you see that the Internet Society has appointed the former chief technology officer of the MPAA to be their North American regional director?
I was as alarmed as they were. The Internet Society – ISOC – is an international nonprofit organisation whose mission is “to assure the open development, evolution and use of the internet for the benefit of all people throughout the world”. More concretely, ISOC is also in charge of the .ORG registry, through its subsidiary, the Public Interest Registry.
Mastering by John Taylor Williams: wryneckstudio@gmail.com
John Taylor Williams is a full-time self-employed audio engineer, producer, composer, and sound designer. In his free time, he makes beer, jewelry, odd musical instruments and furniture. He likes to meditate, to read and to cook.
Jesse2014 writes:
‘For The Win’ was incredibly exciting and inspiring. It is not the first book of yours that made me feel that way, but it was the difference in motivating me to become a small part of the movement to use gold farming for development and freedom. The kind of stuff you were writing about seems so possible.
So I’ve created a wiki where people might work together to undertake the quest. I wanted to let you know because of your huge role in this already.
My next plan is to help build a free online marketplace where some kind of ‘fair trade’ gold/power-leveling can be exchanged. I’d like to make this website as open and collaborative as possible so that anyone can improve and build on it. Then to help gold farmers get access to computers, games and bandwidth that don’t come with the same requirements of their current bosses – donated for free, that they can use on their own terms.
There will be many challenges on the way but I believe it will be worth it. As you said, we can all lead ourselves.
