Great summation. It shouldn't be necessary to give an accounting of what you do in a particular imaginary setting, but there's always some gadfly somewhere, self-appointed, who expects to come and debrief you on what you do for some imaginary committee - usually the one themselves, who otherwise couldn't care less what you did.
The old Hist 105 notebook with a full unwritten novel inside might be the most relatable detail in here. I've got two or three of those buried somewhere.
So, driving home from Danville, I read this outloud to your Daddy while he was driving. He actually laughed out loud several times. At the end, he commented on your ability to tell a story and several things you told in your post. We both laughed at "Laura Ingralls dress" but you forgot the pantaloons your Gramma made for your dresses.
I smiled when you said that people expect a neat explanation for why you write sci-fi, and then spent the rest of the essay proving that stories refuse neat categories. The image that stayed with me wasn't a spaceship at all—it was the old notebooks still waiting on a shelf. I think every writer has worlds that have patiently outlived the years, waiting for the moment we're finally ready to return to them.
Thank you! One of these days, I will get back to those other stories. For the next nine months, my focus is going to be publishing the sequel to Dremiks.
This resonates!!
write the stories in my head, with little thought given to genre or setting.
Asking me why I write sci-fi is really just asking me why I write.
Great summation. It shouldn't be necessary to give an accounting of what you do in a particular imaginary setting, but there's always some gadfly somewhere, self-appointed, who expects to come and debrief you on what you do for some imaginary committee - usually the one themselves, who otherwise couldn't care less what you did.
The old Hist 105 notebook with a full unwritten novel inside might be the most relatable detail in here. I've got two or three of those buried somewhere.
So, driving home from Danville, I read this outloud to your Daddy while he was driving. He actually laughed out loud several times. At the end, he commented on your ability to tell a story and several things you told in your post. We both laughed at "Laura Ingralls dress" but you forgot the pantaloons your Gramma made for your dresses.
Oh Mamma, the pantaloons came off before going up the tree!
You make me think!
I smiled when you said that people expect a neat explanation for why you write sci-fi, and then spent the rest of the essay proving that stories refuse neat categories. The image that stayed with me wasn't a spaceship at all—it was the old notebooks still waiting on a shelf. I think every writer has worlds that have patiently outlived the years, waiting for the moment we're finally ready to return to them.
Thank you! One of these days, I will get back to those other stories. For the next nine months, my focus is going to be publishing the sequel to Dremiks.