I want to write hard science fiction.
Seriously. When I was a kid my heroes were Robert Heinlein and Larry Niven and Arthur Clark and Issac Asimov. I mean, okay, I’d read Ray Bradbury and Harlan Ellison and even Tanith Lee, but they weren’t serious science fiction. I believed in physics and chemistry and Science with a capital S and technology most of all. Technology was going to save the world.
And, you know, I still believe. I am, at heart, a die hard Objectivist. A is A, damnit. Reality is real, we may never understand it, but it’s real. The laws of physics don’t take a break when I close my eyes. I believe in science, and I put my life in its hands every time I trust that electricity will take the path of least resistance and not decide arbitrarily to fry me when I’m wiring a circuit.
I’ve got a muse with a mean streak.
Maybe it’s just the universe’s way of telling me that just because I understand it, that doesn’t mean I can control it. What I want to be good at writing isn’t what I am actually good at writing.
The Knight And The Princess isn’t what I want to be good at writing. It’s some kind of moody and poetic medieval fantasy romance kind of thing that I can’t even exactly define and wouldn’t be caught dead reading if I hadn’t written it.
But it’s good. It’s the best thing I’ve ever written. I don’t want to admit that, but it’s true. I mean, I honestly believe that Catskinner’s Book is good, and I intend to finish Cannibal Hearts, but…
The Knight And The Princess is what I’m good at. That world, those characters, grab people and draw them in. The language comes naturally to me, I don’t have to reach for those voices, they just come bubbling out of me.
Honestly, I need to stop fighting it, to stop pretending that it’s some kind of fluff piece I do between bits of real writing, and just embrace it, expand it to novel length, get it out there, and see what happens.
Guess I can kiss that Nebula Award goodbye…