I just put some bubble paper on the floor and danced around on it.

It was completely awesome.  Like a very small gunfight under my feet.

A nebulous concept existed in my head, but I was having trouble expressing it. It involved detail work in writing… something about the greatest stories have elements that don’t “fit” the story, pieces that don’t seem to add any meaning but are still vital to the overall effect.

I’d been thinking about it for a while, when behold: I stumble across the idea in print, phrased much more eloquently than I’d been able to do. I was reading “Paragons” (ed. Robin Wilson), in which 12 sf/f writers present one of their stories and then talk about the elements of fiction. The following comes from Kim Stanley Robinson’s wonderful essay about his story “Glacier”:

At its minimal value, setting contributes to what Roland Barthes called “the effect of the real.” Barthes was referring to those parts of a story that do not advance the plot, deepen characters, or serve any symbolic purpose; these details seem almost to be gratuitous inclusions, deserving to be trimmed; but their usefulness then comes from that very quality, the implication being that “because the story really happened this way, these facts have to be included.”

If a story’s setting goes below that minimum value, is missing or very sketchy, then the story exists in a kind of no-place, or at best on a ticky-tacky stage set, as in daytime soap operas or cheap sci-fi movies; and a part of the reading mind is muttering, Well, this didn’t really happen, that’s why it’s all so fake-looking; and the clever plot and snappy dialogue go to waste.

Wow. Suddenly I have a term for the concept.

Details are what make a story feel real. For example, I’m sitting here at my computer. If it were a story scene, the outline might say, “Vylar writes a blog post.” It would be relevant to talk about the clicking noise of my keyboard as I type, or the fact that I’m using WordPress. A writer who was told to “use more details” might focus on ones like those.

Or I could tell you that I’m listening to Queen right now, and that my earrings jingle every time I turn my head, and I have a cup of peppermint tea brewing next to me. Or that my hair is still wet from showering, or that I have a pair of hand-knitted shark mittens on my desk.

None of those have anything to do with posting (aside from the fact that this post is about details). They aren’t “telling details” about me as a character. They might reflect my character to some degree, but they don’t give deep insight. In fact, they’re sort of random. But what they do is offer a sense of the real. Those are things happening to me, even if they don’t directly relate to the “action”: writing a post.

It’s what gives a story that elusive quality of feeling real. Like it happened just that way–not carefully plotted, but a little messy. Just like real life. People are contradictory messes of conflicting opinions and feelings. We don’t always match up in a neat and tidy way. Without the effect of the real, characters become stereotypes and settings remain flat. They feel like fiction, not truth. Minor details can bring a story to life.
Put another way, even the most hard-boiled detective has his favorite Chinese restaurant.

I’m a volunteer mentor for a cool program called Little Owl Mentoring, run by the fine folks at Absynthe Muse.

The purpose of the program is to match young writers (ages 13-22) with experienced mentors. The mentor and mentee communicate by email. The mentee sets his/her own goals (such as “improve character development” or “learn revision skills”), and the mentor offers guidance and suggestions. The mentorship length varies from six weeks to several months.

I’ve worked with several different mentees, and I’ve got to say–it’s wonderfully rewarding. I learn almost as much as they do. When I explain things like how to increase tension, motivate characters, and find the heart of a story, I think more clearly about my own habits and methods. Sometimes I make new discoveries about my own work in the process.
And, of course, I’m helping young writers improve their craft and develop business skills. It’s a great feeling.

Absynthe Muse is currently seeking mentors–particularly sf/f writers (hint hint). If anyone’s interested in trying it, visit their site for instructions and an application.

I just realized it’s been a month since I posted.  Sorry about that.
I hereby make a public resolution.  I will try to post at least once a week.  Send me nasty email if I forget.

What are the chances I will catch on fire this Saturday?

Any thoughts?  It’s more interesting to worry about than whether I bought enough food for everyone.

Nine Thousand Four Hundred Ninety-Four Days is published.

In other news, I twisted my knee today while carrying a case of wine, which I bought for our picnic next weekend. I thought to myself, hey–if this were a century ago, they’d tell me to drink the wine to fix my knee. Also, it is very difficult to climb stairs in an ankle-length flowy skirt without bending your knees.  Glad I wasn’t wearing hoop skirts.  Or a corset.  I suppose if I had a corset, I could have MacGyvered it into a splint of some sort.

My story Keybones is published at ChiZine now. I’ve updated my Bibliography to show it, and also made some minor changes to the formatting.

The Write-a-Thon is going great. It’s amazing what focus will do–knowing I have people counting on me to meet my goals really motivates me. Thanks once again to all my sponsors (who are receiving private emails with a lot more details about the writing process).

I’m gearing up for the Write-a-Thon fundraiser for Clarion West, an sf/f writing workshop held annually in Seattle.  Details are located here.

I’ll be writing six short stories over the next six weeks, one per week.  If you’d like to sponsor me, you can pledge whatever you like:  $1/week, $5/week, $20/week, or whatever you like.  Last year, people pledged on the doubling sequence:  $.50 for the first story, $1 for the second, and so on, up to six stories.  All pledges go to Clarion West, a non-profit organization, and they’re tax-deductible.  Last year I raised over $270 for the workshop, which was an awesome feeling.
Or you can just pledge support and encouragement. I can always use that too.

I’m finally recovered from WisCon.  It was an awesome experience–the best con I’ve gone to, so far.

Highlights of the con: The Tiptree auction was, of course, completely hysterical.  I’m sorry I missed the beginning of it, but I saw plenty to keep me amused.  Ellen Klages is a great comedian.

The dessert salon was fun, although we got there so late that only a few desserts remained.  At least the carrot cake was yummy.  The Guest of Honor speeches were amazing–Jane Yolen and Kate Wilhelm both spoke with such grace, strength, and power that it felt like the room was under a spell.

I gave a reading with the ToolPunk (ToolPorn) group from my Clarion West ’04 class.  That was a lot of fun, and it was cool to hear a variety of stories on the same theme–but all very different.

The networking was very helpful for me–particularly a conversation with Sarah Prineas and David Levine, as well as a later conversation with Geoff Ryman and Eileen Gunn.

Definitely a con I want to visit next year, too.

Ten Things to Know About Me

1. I’m a writer, primarily of science fiction and fantasy. My bibliography is listed here. I attended Clarion West in 2004, which was an incredible experience that kickstarted my writing career.

2. I live with my husband in the San Francisco Bay Area, but I’ve also lived in other places. I grew up in Wisconsin, went to college in Iowa, and spent time living in Georgia, New Mexico, and Arizona. I miss the desert, but I love the Bay Area.

3. A partial list of my hobbies: gourmet cooking, modern-day temple dancing, making jewelry, preparing for a major earthquake in the Bay Area, talking to neighborhood cats, video games, roleplaying (many genres), and world domination.

4. I know a secret about the BART trains. There’s a reason why it’s more expensive to take the train through the tunnel under the Bay. They tell you it’s for earthquake retrofit on the tunnel, but it’s not really. The problem is ankle sharks. They’re tiny sharks that swim around on the BART train and chew on people’s ankles. So the extra cost you pay when you go under the Bay–it goes toward strengthening the tunnel against ankle shark infestations.

5. Yes, Vylar Kaftan is my real name. Vylar is a Hindi boy’s name meaning “sky visitor” (or so I’m told).

6. I graduated from Grinnell College with a degree in English and Gender Studies. I loved college and sometimes wish I were back there. I’ve thought about going back to school for an MFA, but I’m not sure if I ever will.

7. I like colors. All of them. My favorite is purple, but I’m also fond of black, silver, green, and yellow. And of course rainbow, iridescent, and tie-dye. If you ever need to distract me while you rob a bank, hand me a box of crayons and I’ll sort them into rainbow order. Crayola preferred, please.

8. Some people tell me I’m crazy, but I prefer the term “differently sane.”

9. I’ve never blogged before, so be nice!

10. Actually, there are only nine things to know about me. Use this last bullet point to go get a beer.