Orbit Interview

One of the nice things Orbit UK did when they published Song of the Shiver Barrens was to include an interview with me at the back. (The other nice thing for you readers – they included the first chapter of Karen Miller’s new book in the UK “Empress”!)

Here’s the first part of that interview:

Can you tell us a bit about your background? How did you get into writing fantasy?

I grew up on a small farm in Western Australia. Playmates were few and far between, which is probably why I developed both an excessively inventive imagination and a love of all things outdoors. As a child, I read everything I could lay my hands on, including old National Geographics, and for as long as I can remember I wanted to write and to travel. I was writing fully fledged stories by the time I was eight, and as soon as I was old enough to work in my school holidays, I was saving money to travel.

I’ve been writing and travelling ever since. As well as Australia, I have lived in North Africa, continental Europe and Asia – both on the mainland and the island of Borneo. My first published works were non-fiction travel articles!

You were a teacher for many years. How do you think that affects your approach to storytelling?

Well, I was telling tales long before I was a teacher. I seem to remember enthralling my classmates back in the playground of a country elementary school on a regular basis by reading my stories to them. Perhaps the teaching that helped me most as a writer was when I taught English as a foreign language (in Malaysia, Austria and Tunisia) and gained a depth of understanding about the structure of my own language as a result.

A bit of a logistical question, but just how do you find the time to write with another career and family to visit all around the world?

I can – and do – write anywhere. Without that ability, I would never be able to submit a book on time to meet a deadline.

I now work as an environmentalist, not a teacher, and much of my work takes me into the field. I have read first proofs in a tent in the middle of the rainforest. I have dealt with copy edits while sweltering by a roadside waiting for transport. I have plugged my computer into the wall in airports, coffee shops and waiting rooms, or I’ve hooked it up to generators in muddy logging huts or rainforest research camps. I’ve used my laptop as long as the battery would last on buses and beaches and coral atolls, in peat swamps and on fishing boats chugging through mangrove inlets. I’ve typed while perched on gunny sacks full of coffee beans on a wharf, or on tree stumps and fallen logs in the forest, or crammed into an airplane seat for a twelve hour international flight. I’ve written by candlelight, lamplight, moonlight, torchlight, firelight, streetlights, and even headlights (waiting to be rescued from a bogged car in the middle of nowhere.) The most challenging of all, though, is to find time to write while looking after a three-year-old grandson…

How much of an influence has being a conservationist and studying the natural world been on your writing and your world building? Do you often draw inspiration from your experiences or does it make it much harder to create something new and different?

An understanding of the natural world includes seeing how everything fits together, the larger picture. A logging operation means more exposed soil upstream. Run-off means the river is brown with mud. How does a riverine kingfisher see the fish it must catch to live? It’s all about connections. What happens in a neighbouring country can affect what happens to the birds in your own.

World building is like that. You don’t create just a house and a street. You are creating a world, and it is all interconnected. You can’t have your pre-industrial townsfolk eating fresh tuna if your town is miles from the ocean. Your musician needs strings for his lute (what are they made of?), your swordsman won’t be an expert if he never practises. In a desert, no one burns firewood in their fireplaces. Of course, you don’t put everything you know about your world into your book! But you have to know it and understand how it all fits together. Only if you do, will your reader feel that when he has opened the page, he has stepped into another real place.

Because I have lived as a local within a number of different societies, I know more than the average traveller about what goes into making a culture. That gives me an edge, I feel, in creating the people and the social rules they live by within their imaginary world.

So what’s next?

Book manuscript is submitted to UK and Oz publishers, awaiting the rejection or acceptance… so what’s next?

Well, firstly, there’s the clean-up-house project. A month away in Australia in March-April, preceded by several months of frantic manuscript rearrangement and polishing, plus writing a final work project paper, meant that the house has been neglected. [I share house with a lovely man … but one who has not quite managed, in spite of my propaganda campaign waged over many years of marriage, to divest himself of the Asian idea that major house chores of the spring cleaning variety are a woman’s domain…]

This kind of house neglect might not mean much in a temperate climate. In the tropics it’s an invitation for every kind of wildlife and plant form to take up residence, thank you very much.

So I have decided a major war on intruding flora and fauna and dust is in order to clear the way for the coming frontal assault on the next book, plus the next work project, all of which will be accompanied by another period of neglect.

No idea when the work project will start, but it could be very soon. And I am nervous about writing book 2 of a trilogy without a contract; I’ve never done that before because it is such a gamble. Writing one book and failing is all very well – just a year down the tubes – but writing a second book to follow it into oblivion is rather sticking one’s neck out. Better to try something else, one would think.

However, I have in fact already done quite a bit of Book 2, so I will continue and keep all fingers crossed (when I am not actually typing) that someone somewhere will love the story of a rogue rainlord who steals rain and thus mucks up a whole nation and begins a war – and that’s just for starters…

So here’s a look at the picometer status of Book 2 – which I am very provisionally calling Stormshifter.

Where do you get your ideas from?

Every writer dreads that question, because we know that if someone had to ask it, they don’t get the way a writer’s mind works. Our problem is never ideas – but the writing. We trip over ideas all the time.

To explain. These are more photos taken around Esperance, Western Australia. Lucky Bay to be exact.

I was walking down the steps in the first picture when I looked to my left – and snapped picture 2 as a result. Look closely. What can you see? Anything that suggests an idea for a book? Yes, they are just rocks, but…

Look a bit closer. And if there’s not a rock there that doesn’t give you an idea or two, believe me, you are not a fantasy writer!!

Denvention – Denver 2008, here I come

Over on the Denvention3 webpage for the Denver Worldcon (World Science Fiction Convention to be held this August), they have started to put up the bios of participants.

Oooo – I love this. All those great names: Lois McMaster Bujold is the Guest of Honour. Then there’s Carol Berg, David Brin, Joe Haldeman, Phyllis Eisenstein, Robert Silverberg, Jay Lake, Kay Kenyon, Nancy Kress, Robert Silverberg, Steve Miller, Sharon Lee…and so many more.

And me. Yes, me. See here. I feel like a mouse in the shadow of so many talented writers.

And seeing as I am feeling all nostalgic after yesterday’s post, here’s another dollop of nostalgia. A photo take of our family back in 1989 in Alice Springs. Selina, aged 17, had just learned that she had been accepted at Oxford University. Nashii, the one on the right (then known as Tasha!), was 14.

Nostalgia

My husband just came home from Vienna.

And brought lots of nostalgia home with him.

The Graben. God, how I loved that city.
That was his office up there… 11th floorAnd that’s the house we lived on from 1986 to 1991, just off Beethovengang – we used to walk on up to the Vienna Woods every weekend. You entered the house from the street, but that’s really the back of the house. The front looked out on to a garden with a birch tree. Ah…

*Sniff.*

Oops…

For those folk in UK about to buy Song of the Shiver Barrens – yes, it is Book 3 of the Mirage Makers, not Book Two as the title page says!

You know, no matter how many times a book is read and reread by countless people, there always seems to be some mistakes that slip by. At least it says Book 3 on the cover.

Weird stuff

There is an ongoing High Court case here about whether a Catholic weekly has the right to call their deity “Allah.”

The weekly was prohibited from using the word “Allah” by the Home Ministry, and the Catholics are appealing.

How bizarre is that?

I have visions of the deity up there in heaven (whatever s/he is called) scratching their head over this one. The world price of rice has doubled in 5 weeks, someone stole the metal in a pylon and blacked out almost the entire state of Sabah when the pylon collapsed, stories of pollution and corruption dominate the newspapers, a couple of young kids – evidently kidnapped by paedophiles – are still missing … and this is what the High Court and the Catholic weekly and the Home Ministry worry about?

In the name of God, let’s have some sense.

Pix: an Australian country road (between Esperance and Stokes…)

Tortured again

I spent an hours this morning on the rack, tied down and tortured. Yep, that’s right – another MRI, of the elbow this time. Honestly, having to spend 60 minutes motionless in an awkward position is murder for someone with arthritis.

Results in two weeks.

When boredom means success

Sometime tomorrow I will finish yet another rewrite of Rogue Rainlord (or whatever the final title is!).

And this is absolutely the last draft.*

*{Er, well, sort of the last – there’s still an editor’s suggestions to be incorporated (if I ever sell the thing) and then the copy editor’s corrections and then the final proofs after that… Maybe I had better say this is the last of the writer’s drafts.}

I sometimes get asked: How do you know when it’s ready? After two re-writes? Ten? Thirty?

The answer for me is none of the above. I know it is ready when I get bored.

It’s been put away and allowed to jell several times, then re-read and found wanting. It has been rewritten and fixed and cut and added to and rearranged. It has been tightened and polished and read and corrected yet again. How many drafts? I haven’t the faintest clue. Numbers mean nothing; what counts is getting it right. And until I get it right, I can’t leave the darn thing alone. Some time back I got it structurally right and breathed a sigh of relief; now I have the polish right as well.

And I know that I have it about as right as it will ever be, short of having professional editorial input. How do I know? Because I am bored. Why am I bored? Because finally I can’t find much to fix. This is the way it is meant to be. This is my story and it is good. I love it. And I now find myself reading it as a reader, not as a writer – but it is a book I have read so many times over the past few months that it has no surprises any more. I have reached the stage where I have to let go, move on. I’ve no idea how other writers arrive at this decision, but for me, boredom means success. The first goal has been reached…

{Of course, when I have editorial input, I shall get itchy fingers again and there will be lots more polishing…}

And the good news is my agent has now read it (the version before this one) and has said that she thoroughly enjoyed it, thinks it is great stuff, and still finds a certain scene shocking, even though she read it before in a still earlier version.

Yay! She has no hesitation in sending the MS off.


Pix:
How’s this for style? A public chess set in a cow paddock, just outside of Esperance. Love it.

Is the fence to keep the bovines from trampling the pawns or to make sure they don’t dribble on the players?

I have distinct memories from my childhood of a cow called Corrie who hated kids, and me racing down the driveway with her lowered horns just inches from my behind. Pamplona and running with the bulls? Yep, been there, done that, and I was only five. I dived through the neighbour’s barbed wire fence.

Recherche Archipelago, Esperance


While we were in Esperance, we took a boat trip out to the Recherche Archipelago and spend a brief time on Woody Island, the only one of the 110 or so islands that has a camping area and a building – a restaurant.


Saw lots of seals and sea lions, dolphins, gannets, cormorants and a shearwater – no albatrosses though, unfortunately. Or whales – wrong time of the year for them as they have already headed north for the winter.

The Archipelago also has about 1500 reefs which were discovered by the French in about 1800. The presence of the French was a major reason why the British decided to start a colony in Western Australia in 1826…(no one asked the locals what they thought of that, of course.)