Showing posts with label h2g2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label h2g2. Show all posts

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Changing Horses

'Space Race' is dead. Completely dodo.

It felt like a great idea when I started it: very English Englishman gets abducted by flying saucer which subsequently crashes; he's given an emergency cloning but the doctors mess it up so the body he receives is a female version of his original self; he must now find a way to finance the cloning of a proper copy of his male original, not to mention a ride home.
Very H2G2. Yes. The main character was in fact intended to be a mix of Arthur Dent, The Metatron (Dogma), and Alexander Dane (Galaxy Quest). And as for my dream cast, the part would of course be played by the peerless Alan Rickman.
Sadly, I'm on a road to nowhere with this one.
It was meant to be intelligent. Humourous, but also intelligent. But even I can't love this baby. What it is - after 31 pages - is a string of platitudes, double-entendres, so-called 'comic' misunderstandings. Nothing more. Worst of all, I didn't even have an end in my sights.

So I'm consigning this one to the Movie Scripts' Graveyard.
(perhaps one day I'll come back with my virtual spade and engage in a little resurrectionism...)

Instead I've dug out an old NaNoWriMo script that - in all honesty - I'm considering for a major rewrite/revamp/reworking for this year's NaNo. A lot needs changing though. So I'm turning the old version into my ScriptFrenzy- project. Two days' work has yielded 26 pages already, and my keyboard feels as if it's melting. Then perhaps I can write a new version come November. It probably won't have much in common with the old one. Or maybe I'll write Book Two instead - I'm considering padding the idea out to a trilogy. That would be cool.

Anywho: RIP 'Space Race'. I hardly knew ya.

And let's hear it for (drum roll, please...) 'Counterworld' - an epic tale of love, magic, war, and parallel universes. Sound familiar? Well, I never promised it'd be the next LoTR...

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Futurama

Inspired by this comment on my post a few days back, well... this post isn't going to be about my own writing, but the writings of others.

I've been a sci-fi fan since childhood; it wasn't what you'd call standard fare in my home, but watching Star Trek (dubbed into German, so I knew it as Raumschiff Enterprise) and the anime series of Captain Future gave me a keen appetite for rayguns and fancy spaceships. At the time, however, I didn't actually read science fiction. That came later.

The first sci-fi novel I bought was the book adaptation of Star Trek III: The Search For Spock; we were visiting London that summer of '84, the film was opening in theatres, and I begged my mother to let's go see it. She refused (she has always considered Star Trek childish). I then resolutely bought a copy of the book. Never mind that my mother thought I was wasting my money, and that the book would, in terms of language, be too advanced for me to comprehend (it was, at first, but I persevered and gleaned a bit more understanding with each reading). I might add that now, twenty-four years on, I still have that copy of the book. So, waste of money? I think not.

I think that became my introduction to 'adult' science fiction. The author was Vonda McIntyre, and it turned out the local library actually had a Danish translation of one of her other books, Dreamsnake. I read it. And was none too impressed, to tell the truth. After all, that story doesn't have a lot of rayguns or spaceships in it.

But having discovered that there was such a thing as adult science fiction, I began exploring it. Our local small-town school library did actually stock a good number of classics (in Danish, of course, but back then I wasn't a very proficient English reader) by such chaps as Asimov, Clarke, Sturgeon, Dick... At roughly the same time a couple of publishers were aiming to translate and publish a number of more recent sci-fi novels by authors like Julian May, Larry Niven, Douglas Adams (yes, that was my first encounter with Hitchhiker), and Brian Aldiss' Helliconia cycle, and of course a few years later a certain William Gibson coined the term cyberpunk for the entire world to read about.

I've not been true and ever faithful to the genre. I've strayed into horror (mainly Stephen King), I've explored some of Clive Barker's dark-fantastic worlds (Imajica is absolutely fabulous, by the way) and China MiƩville's wonderful steampunk-fantasy New Crobuzon novels, as well as Neil Gaiman's rather more humourous takes on the world-right-next-to-this-one; I've read Terry Pratchett's Discworld series ragged, as well as Harry Potter, and having grown up in a home where the bookshelves contained a good number of Agatha Christies I've also kept in touch with the crime genre (although Christie has long since lost her allure - these days if I want classic British crime fiction I'll go for Dorothy L. Sayers or, for the more modern touch, Reginald Hill or Val McDermid). But I keep returning to science fiction like an old, old friend. It's a love affair I doubt I'll ever outgrow.

Eleven days ago Arthur C. Clarke, one of the greats of science fiction, passed away. And while it's true that most of the old ones are gone now - I was actually surprised, a few months ago, when I came across a recent Brian Aldiss (Super State from 2002) and realised that he might still be alive (he is, but given that he's past eighty, for how long?). Embarrassingly for me, I'd assumed, insofar as I thought about it, that he was long gone - I don't believe that this means the science fiction genre is dying too. It may have changed - in a day and age which brings almost-daily leaps forward in science and technology, when the world is constantly changing and the fantastic seems to be at our fingertips, it becomes hard to imagine the impact a technological advance would have on a more static society - but there are still fantasts out there, still thinkers pushing hard at the boundaries of the imagination. And some of them create marvellous visions.

SF, as Peter F Hamilton once put it (though he may have been quoting somebody else) is not about prediction. This, I think, is true. It's about speculation. And yes, the S in SF does stand for science. But who says it has to be science as in technology? There are such things as social science and political science, and I personally find that speculating on human evolution in those terms can be as fascinating as - and possibly even more frightening than - wondering whether we'll ever get out of the solar system or learn to travel in time. After all we live in a day and age when there are people with the wherewithal to wipe out more or less all life on the planet who, under normal circumstances, you wouldn't trust with so much as a rubber knife. And if this is where we're at now, what will the world look like in a hundred years' time? In fifty? In ten?

Okay, what I really wanted to do with this post was list my favourite contemporary science fiction writers. I've not exactly done that yet. So here goes:

My current (that is to say roughly since I found out he existed a year and a half ago) Science Fiction Overlord is Charlie Stross. Although to call him a mere science fiction writer is a bit like calling Leonardo da Vinci 'a guy who painted a bit'. He's more of a science fiction-dimension shifting fantasy-Lovecraftian horror-British spy thriller-h4x0r lore-Singularity-infowar technology writer. With a wicked sense of humour.

The second in my personal top-three has to be Peter F Hamilton. It was the chance picking-up of The Reality Dysfunction six years ago that convinced me science fiction was very much alive and kicking. And the Night's Dawn trilogy (of which the aforementioned is Book One) remains my favourite of his works, at least pending the conclusion of his ongoing Void trilogy (you reading this, Peter? Then quit surfing the blogosphere and get back to work! ;-)).

Last - but that's not to say least - comes Richard K Morgan. His Takeshi Kovacs-stories are fairly straightforward noir-esque space opera, and the gun-for-hire-with-a-conscience character could be easily transplanted into many other genres, true, but I still say there are more layers to the stories. And if you're not convinced, read his Market Forces instead. And then take a good look at the business world of today and tell me that's not a future we could very well be headed for.

That's not to say there aren't others out there. If those three don't really float your boat, you could do worse than try Neal Asher (whose Cowl is a marvellous re-introduction of the time-travel concept), Alastair Reynolds (although he's a bit long-winded for my taste), or Kevin J Anderson (I really need to catch up on the Saga of Seven Suns, even if I do find it a bit repetitive). And those are just the ones off the top of my head.

There are countless possible futures out there.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

H2G2 mk. II

... or, in other words: PANIC.

Why?

Well.

My full script needs to be at least 100552 words long by the end of the month for me to have written 15000 words in February, as per my Big, Fun and Scary goal.
So far it stands at 88690 words.

And 100552-88690=11862 words to go.

In six days.

Also if I'm going to do NaNoEdMo in March I need to finish the plotline.

It can be done. Sure.

But why do I have to be the one that has to do it?

The imp of perversion is laughing at me.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

The Saga Continuums

CWC: **57326** words. It's as if they're breeding.

I keep returning, it's as simple as that. After a near-month of writing this story, prefaced by a couple of months' worth of planning, plot outlining, character constructing et cetera (anything not actually considered writing the story), I can't simply consign it to a shallow grave on the hard drive.
Oops, I think I used that expression before. D*mn. Oh well. Never mind

So the story goes:
LLD has learned of MMC's affair with SMC. I'm not sure what her exact reaction is, so far that remains a plothole. It's certain, however, that she's mad as hell.
As a consequence MMC has more or less broken up with SMC. SMC then decided to get out of his skull in the spirit of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, but is rescued by a True Friend before his brain is turned to mush. TF talks some sense into him, leading him to realise that MMC is the love of his life and he needs to patch things up before it's too late.
This leads to the first face-to-face between SMC and LLD, over the dead body of one of LLD's schoolmates...

Ah, drama.