Tag: writing tips

The Absolute Beginner’s Guide: How to Get Started Writing SFF Part 1

“How do I get started writing science fiction and fantasy?”

I’ve seen this question crop up often enough in the online spaces I’m part of that I thought I’d put together some thoughts about it. As with any advice about anything creative, please don’t take anything I say to mean, “This is the only way.” I only mean, “this is the way I’ve done it, and how I’ve seen other people do it.” Use this guide as exactly that–a guide, a template with which to build your own roadmap. Your way will be different! But maybe my way can help you discover your way. 

How to Use This Guide, or, a Guide to the Guide

I organized this roughly into an order so that each step develops and builds on skills and practices in a logical way–at least, in a way that feels logical to me! Many of these steps can be done concurrently, of course. And feel free to skip any that don’t make sense for you. Or go in any order you want! This guide isn’t the boss of you!

Table of Contents:

  1. How to Use this Guide, or, a Guide to the Guide
  2. What the Heck is SFF? 
  3. Read for the Technical Basics of Prose
  4. Practice Writing. A Lot.
  5. Some Ideas for Building a Writing Practice and Staying Motivated
  6. Write a Story to the End
  7. Maybe Find Some Other People to Write With
  8. Not All Writing Advice is Right for You, But Some Could Be Helpful
  9. To Sum Up Part 1

What the Heck is SFF??

Good question! I use this term to mean “Science Fiction and Fantasy” in the broadest sense while also including Horror. Another umbrella term that I like is “speculative fiction.” For me, this includes horror, magical realism, fabulism, alternate histories, historical fantasy, steampunk and cyberpunk and all the -punks, fairy tales, slipstream, weird fiction, secondary world, and more. I’m not a fan of drawing too many boundaries between genres because I think the most interesting writing is often at the edges, and genres are fluid anyway. For now, don’t spend too much time thinking about genre or subgenre. It’s more useful (and more exciting!) to explore widely, in my opinion.

So you want to write SFF! That’s great! In my experience, SFF is a vast, infinitely variable, rich space to explore that’s evolving all the time. In short stories, we’ve seen a crop of exciting new markets open up (markets, in this case, means places you can sell your stories). There’s a resurgence of novellas (which is fiction between about 17,000- 40,000 words.) Novels have crossed genres and categories. English-language SFF outside of the UK and North America continues to expand and become more internationally available, translation efforts are expanding, and the readership for English-language SFF is increasingly global. It’s a really exciting time for readers and writers of SFF!

If you’re a writer who already knows how to write in another genre or in literary fiction, and you’re looking for advice about writing specifically SFF, hang tight. I’ve got you covered, and we’re going to address your concerns in Part 2. So come back next week for that!

For those who are brand new to writing prose fiction (including prose fiction for SFF), read on!

Read for Technical Basics of Prose

Anyone new to writing prose (and this includes folks who might already be adept storytellers in other media, like screenwriting or poetry or visual arts) can benefit from reading a lot. I suggest starting with short stories because, well, they’re short! You can sample a lot of different voices and methods in a relatively short time! And for this purpose they’ll work just as well as a novel. But by all means, if you’re really into novels and short stories just don’t do it for you, then read novels.

Remember, no one is born knowing how to write prose. It’s a skill. Everyone had to start somewhere. Yes, even N.K. Jemison, Ted Chiang, and Lois McMaster Bujold. Even Octavia Butler (!!!). (I know, I have to remind myself of this too.)

But Jane, I hear you say, what about talent? Yes, it’s true, some writers are naturally talented. But in my experience, talent only gets you so far. Talent without the work to back it up … that’s not enough to get really good at writing SFF and to keep progressing as a writer.

So, read. The first thing you want to do is, train yourself to understand the basic mechanics, the nuts and bolts of prose. I mean on the level of, “what words does the writer use?m What’s the punctuation? How long are the sentences and the paragraphs?” Be thoughtful, and ask yourself a lot of questions as you read.

For example:

  • How does the text indicate who’s speaking? 
  • How is dialogue formatted? 
  • How do you know what the setting is? What the environment is? 
  • How do you feel about the characters, and why? How does the writer let you get close to the characters? 
  • Whose perspective (POV, or point of view) is centered in the story? Is there more than one? How do you know? How does the writer switch between them?
  • How does the writer reveal what the characters are thinking or feeling? 
  • What about imagery? How does the writer engage the senses? How does that make you feel?

The technical side of writing has little to do with whether or not you can tell a good story; think of it like understanding how to use the tools. Reading helps you understand the scope of the tools, what they are, and how they can be used. It’s like understanding the techniques of cooking: how to use a knife, how to sear, how to braise, how to stir fry. With those techniques you can make an okay meal or a sublime one, depending on how you apply the techniques and the ingredients and all that. 

As with anything, just remember that there are as many ways to write prose as there are writers in the world, so stay flexible and open-minded to what you encounter. 

As for where to read short stories, there are a lot available online. Some of my favorite SFF markets are:

Practice Writing. A Lot.

This can be done concurrently with reading… assuming you have the time, of course. If you don’t, then I suggest putting aside some separate times for reading and for writing.

To start with, you don’t even have to write full stories. You could try writing a journal every day, or freewriting for a few minutes regularly. Try writing down your dreams every morning (this is a great source of weird ideas for stories!) Try writing down memories. Practice expressing complicated feelings on the page, practice converting imagery and sensation. Carry a notebook with you and take notes about what you experience wherever you go.

For slightly more formal activities, try working through some writing exercises. Ursula Le Guin’s book, Steering the Craft, is basically a workbook for developing prose. Go through those exercises. The 3AM Epiphany is another one. 

If you have the resources, and if you feel like it would help you, consider taking a basic creative writing class on prose. Local community colleges usually have an affordable option to check out, and there are online workshop options as well. But don’t take a screenwriting class. Screenwriting is a different form of storytelling and it won’t help you on the prose level, which is what I’m suggesting you practice now. 

There are online collections of writing prompts. Set a timer and respond to the prompt. If you hate timers, you can also go by word count–try for about 500 to 750 words. 

Don’t judge any of these exercises. No one needs to see them but you. These are the push ups and sit ups of writing. That said, I’ve had stories come out of exercises that I’ve then gone on to develop and sell to a market, so although that’s not the point of doing these, it’s a nice bonus. 🙂 

Here’s a link to get you started: https://ghost.org/blog/10-minute-writing-workouts/

Some Ideas for Building a Writing Practice and Staying Motivated

Nanowrimo. 

If you’re the kind of person motivated by goals and deadlines, then participating in something like Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) could be really helpful. I’ve used Nanowrimo in the past to draft lots of words quickly. The goal is 50,000 words in a month. Some years I hit it, many years I don’t, but it’s a fun, community-supported way to ramp up your regular writing habits. The only caveat is, don’t compare yourself to other people because everyone writes at their own pace, and don’t feel bad if you don’t make it to 50K. To me, that’s not the point–it’s about showing up to write regularly and giving it a shot. There’s also a Camp Nano that happens in April and July.

Journaling.

You can try journaling. That’s another form of writing, and it still gets you to show up to the page. For a couple of years I wrote every morning, just writing about what I was thinking and feeling, writing down my dreams, and whatever I felt like. I found it really freed up my ability to get words down, and it helped me practice how to express emotions on the page. I’m a big believer that any kind of writing is good for you. You’re using those writing muscles in different ways. 

Fanfiction. 

If you’re part of a fandom, try writing fanfiction. Yes, it’s a legitimate way to learn to write! Most fandoms have supportive fanfiction communities where you can practice skills and get gentle feedback and cheers. (All of us can use cheers! Especially when we’re starting out.)

Persist. 

Keep going. Keep writing. Try to find a way to make writing a regular practice–not necessarily daily, but find a way to make it into a habit. Yes, you might be bad at it in the beginning. You might hate your clumsy, awkward words. Don’t worry about it. If it bothers you, don’t reread what you wrote for a while, just keep going forward. And I bet you’ll find that you’re not as bad as you thought (imposter syndrome is real!) And anyway, it’s okay to be a beginner. 

Write a Short Story to the End

The next step is to finish something. I suggest this “something” should be a short story as opposed to a novel… because you can write a short story in a couple of days, whereas even a sloppy novel is going to take a lot longer than that!

You’ve probably already written something that’s story-shaped! Maybe not a complete story, but a lot of us start by writing a beginning, or a scene, or a few ideas we’d like to explore. Pick one and write it. Don’t judge yourself; no one has to see this but you. Write to the end. This is really important because it’s too easy to start new things when you get frustrated (ask me how I know! haha), and learning to finish a story is one of the most powerful things you can learn to do.

(Hint: It’s totally okay to be inspired by a story you read to try to write one that’s like it, or that borrows some of its features. This is how we learn!)

If you’re stuck, try asking yourself these questions and treating them like writing prompts:

  • Who’s the main character in this story? What do they want? What do they need?
  • What’s the speculative element? Is it magic? Are there ghosts? Is it set in the future? How does that complicate the main character’s situation?
  • How could the main character resolve their situation? Do they get what they want? Do they get what they need? How?

Don’t worry about whether the story’s “good” or “bad.” These are still exercises. You’re practicing, like a musician doing scales, like a painter doing life drawings. You’re training yourself. As you write and finish these experiments, take some time afterwards to reflect on what excited you. What felt rewarding? What elements of the story invited you? What felt difficult or uncomfortable? You’re getting a sense of your strengths and weaknesses. 

Writing is hard. As Cat Rambo says, to get good at it, you have to either be incredibly talented, or be prepared to work your ass off. Most of us are in the latter category. 

Maybe Find Other People to Write With

This step, like all the steps here, is optional. However, I highly recommend it. There are lots of groups for people who are learning to write SFF, at all levels. I’ll list some of them below. If you write fanfiction, you’ll probably find some people in those spaces who can form your community.

Co-write and Commiserate

You can use these groups to workshop stories (more on that later), get critiques, or just have company. Co-working or co-writing sessions, communal writing sprints, a place to seek advice, and even just places to commiserate and share the pain (writing is HARD WORK after all!) can be wonderfully nurturing. They can help you feel less alone and remind you that, yes, writing is hard and yes, other people are learning to do it, and so can you. Discord has a bot that can set up writing sprints for you, if you find a community on Discord you want to hang out with!

Critique and Workshop

In my experience there are two reasons you want to join a critique group or a workshop: to meet other people who are serious about writing, with whom you can build community that may or may not include critique, and to level up your reading and writing skills. 

A critique group is typically free, and self-organized by maybe a couple of members. The might meet in person or over videoconference, perhaps once a month or so. A critique group can also be entirely online and never meet. Instead, they send stories and critiques to each other. Each group will have different methods and standards. Try a few different ones out to find one that works for you. Or, start your own! 

Workshops are typically organized by an institution or an individual, and they usually have a cost. Workshops tend to be more focused and directed by a facilitator or instructor. Some workshops require an audition (an application process where you submit samples, a cover letter, etc.) They can be online or in person and last anywhere from a day to several weeks. Clarion and Clarion West, Odyssey, Viable Paradise, and Taos Toolbox are the most well-known workshops with a focus on SFF writing, but there are several others that aren’t as expensive or as intensive.

Why Join–or Not

On workshopping and critique: I believe a good critique group can be really helpful. A good workshop-style class can be really helpful. But not always. Don’t feel like you have to be in one to get better as a writer, because you don’t. If it doesn’t work for you, there’s nothing wrong with you! They don’t work for everybody.

The thing to remember about workshop and critique is, it’s all just opinions. Some opinions are more informed than others, true. Some actually draw on a deep well of experience with stories. But still, at the end of the day, critique is subjective. Everyone reads stories through their own lenses and sometimes those lenses are helpful to you, and sometimes not. Feel free to ignore any advice or critique that doesn’t resonate with you. YOU are the expert in your own story.

What workshops and critique groups are really good for, though, is refining your reading skills. I learned way more about writing by giving critiques than by getting them. I learned how to read stories, how to think about technique and craft, how to ask myself questions about the text and writer’s intent, how to articulate the magic that short stories employ, and in the end, those are skills that stay with you and make you a stronger, more intentional writer. Writing critiques for other people’s stories is a precious gift you can give yourself. So do so generously and thoughtfully.

I also suggest that you find other SFF writers to exchange critiques with, or at least, other writers who are familiar with and love speculative fiction. SFF has certain expectations that not all readers of other genres or literary fiction are aware of.

Some Groups, Workshops, and Classes to Explore 

Reedsy also has a list (although I’m not familiar with many of these, they might be worth checking out!).

Not All Writing Advice is Good For You, But Some Could be Helpful

There are a lot of places to get writing advice. I think it’s worth exploring a lot of these, but take everything with a grain of salt. Or maybe a huge, heaping spoonful of salt. Just remember that in writing, you can do whatever you want. You can tell, not show. You can write a prologue. You don’t have to save the cat. You don’t have to follow the hero’s journey, or a four act structure, or the Freytag pyramid, or any of that. 

If something about the advice resonates with you, or sparks ideas, great! Use it! But if it doesn’t, don’t worry about it! There are as many ways to approach writing as there are writers.

That said, when I began writing, I found some of those craft books very useful because they gave me guard rails as I explored my writing skills. I enjoyed having some structure that I could work with. Sometimes, having complete freedom to do anything can be a bit….terrifying, honestly! And paralyzing! Sometimes a little prescriptive advice is not a bad thing–I think of them like training wheels. 🙂

I personally have phases where I like to listen to feedback. Near the beginning, when I have the glimmering of an idea, I like to brainstorm with a few trusted people. I might even have them read my opening and then go from there. I recognize this is pretty unusual! But I like it. Then I need a lot of time alone with the story to work on it, draft it, think about it, tinker with it. The next phase where I like getting feedback is when I have a full draft, pretty polished and ready to go, with an ending. 

There are some people who just aren’t the right readers for your story. You’ll learn to recognize them and thank them for their feedback but ignore it. Others will be exactly the kind of readers you want to reach. You’ll learn who these are, and you’ll listen really closely to them–not necessarily to their advice about how to fix a story, but to how they read the story. This is where you can suss out whether the story is having the effect that you want, or which parts are working and which aren’t.

To Sum Up Part 1

So, read stories and ask yourself questions about what you read. Start small and start simple. Practice finishing stories. Don’t worry about quality for now. Find a sustainable writing routine. Write as much as you can. Maybe find some other people to write with.

And tune in to part two next week in which we’ll explore advice that’s specifically for SFF writing!

Resources

Talking about Writing on the Story Kitchen Podcast

It occured to me recently that we haven’t really talked about the podcast on the blog yet, and that we probably should! Maureen and I started the Story Kitchen Podcast this spring. The project came out of our twice-weekly co-writing sessions on Zoom, during last year. We met up so we could ostensibly work on our manuscripts, but would often end up talking about writing, sharing tips, debating technique, and thinking a lot about how people learn to write (we’re both teachers, so this is something that’s on our minds a lot!)

Thus, the podcast was born! I try to keep the Podcast page on this site updated, but you can listen to it at a lot of places: Apple podcasts, on Spotify, on Google Podcasts, on Spreaker, Podcast Addict, Podchaser, Castbox–on almost any plaform that distributes podcasts!

The latest episode is about fanfiction, one of our favorite topics. You can listen to it below:

I also wanted to give a shoutout to this awesome episode of Fansplaining, The Craft of Writing Fanfiction, which is a wonderful episode, and I discovered after we recorded ours, but it’s a great discussion and it reflects a lot of our experiences in writing and reading fanfiction!

Other episodes we’ve recorded:

In the first episode, we talk about how to think about feedback on your writing. Not all feedback is useful. How do you decide? And what do you do with the feedback that isn’t helping you?

How to develop creativity is a particular interest of mine, something I’ve studied and experimented with for the last several years. What I’ve learned is that creativity is a skill, and like any other skill, it can develop with practice. In this episode we talk about what to do when you’re stuck and how to develop your creativity.

In the episode, Our Favorite Writing Techniques, Maureen and I share the best practical writing tips that elevated our writing. Even so, growth as a creator isn’t always steady. In When You Hit a Plateau we discuss a time in our evolution where we felt like we weren’t growing, and what we did about it.

And last week, we realized we hadn’t really defined what “technique” is so we tackled that topic in What Exactly is Technique Anyway?

And now you’re all caught up! See you next week!

The Advantages and Pitfalls of Camp Nano

NaNoWriMo in November is the challenge to write a draft of a novel in a month.  Lots of people have done it and communities have sprang up to talk about how to prepare for the challenge, how to do the challenge, and how to join with other people to do it. 

Camp Nano, in April and July, is a similar challenge but instead of writing a novel in a month (because face it, some people just can’t, whether because for example, they have a job and a toddler, or because writing 2,000 words a day doesn’t work for them) the writer sets their own goals.  The goals usually involve a daily practice. 

Is it a good idea?  Depends.

Camp Nano has some really cool aspects.

  • Community.  It’s easy to find people setting goals and supporting each other.  It’s a giant group effort and humans a social animals.  It’s why some of us care about our local sports team, even though there is rarely a moral difference between Manchester United and Real Madrid.  We thrive on connection.
  • Set, clear goals:  Setting goals is often a good idea.  A goal means that progress is measurable—either you’re meeting goals or you aren’t. 
  • The commitment can make someone write and as they write, they can learn about what works and what doesn’t work for them, not only in their writing technique but also in how they write—better at night or better to get up at 5:00am before work and write then? 
  • Discovering that it’s possible to write and hit a goal!  Four short stories in a month, or 20,000 wds in a month!  It can teach the lazy and recalcitrant brain that it’s really possible to write.

Camp Nano Drawbacks

  • Setting up an artificial schedule and sticking to it for a month can be a little like a crash diet.  It’s unrealistic, and if it doesn’t fit your life, it can create unsustainable habits.  Just as a 1200 calories a day diet is a bad idea, thinking that writing ‘x’ number of words a day (or whatever your goal is) is ‘the right thing to do’ can lead to burn out and a belief that if those goals aren’t hit, it’ means that you’ll never be a writer.
  • Life is complicated, and predicting what someone is going to be able to do in three weeks is a bit of a crap shoot.  Remember March of 2020?  The world has a way of reducing plans to rubble.

Camp Nano and NaNoWriMo might be just the thing someone needs.  If you want to do them:

  • Take control.  Figure out what you want from the experience, and set expectations accordingly.  Even if you’re doing NaNoWriMo you don’t have to write 50,000 words.  Set your own goals.
  • Be thoughtful about balancing commitment and flexibility.  If the goal is to write a publishable novel, well, writing fast may mean not writing well.  The work of revising the novel may be much harder if 75% of the draft has to be pitched.
  • Think about what you want. 

Camp Nano is a great thing for a lot of writers.

Set goals that are easy, you can always do more, but you’re going to feel shitty if you do less.  And use it for who you are, where you are, and getting to your own goals. 

Build Only the World You Need

There are a lot of ways to build a world.  We tend to think of worldbuilding as something for science fiction or fantasy.  I don’t think of it that way.  Mysteries are often tied to a particular place, like Tony Hillerman’s Navajo Tribal Police mysteries[1] or the Bridgerton series by Julia Quinn, set in the world of English aristocracy of the 18th century. 

Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad series is a lovely example of creating a very specific world in a very specific time, the waning days of Dublin’s economic boom and bust—and as good worlds do, it grounds her series in an authenticity that convinces the reader that this world is real and makes the stakes of the story feel real.

Science Fiction and Fantasy

There is a lot of advice on the web for worldbuilding.  Hugo Award winner N.K. Jemisin has a masterclass on worldbuilding and (https://www.masterclass.com/classes/n-k-jemisin-teaches-fantasy-and-science-fiction-writing/chapters/elements-of-worldbuilding ) Brandon Sanderson has a technique for building magic systems that you can find in his lecture series on YoutTube.

I will state up front, I don’t like Rendezvous With Rama.  I tried it several times and just not my thing.  It’s a book that has really meant a lot to a lot of people, so I assume that it’s like licorice, which my husband loves and which I hate.  It’s not a case that Rendezvous With Rama is not good writing, it’s a matter of preference. 

Thinking about worldbuilding in the way mystery and romance writers think about it can be a different and sometimes useful way to worldbuild.  I’ve created four prompts that can help bootstrap both setting and worldbuilding.  Also, they give me an excuse to research and I love research.  So much easier than writing.

[1] Linda Rodriguez, indigenous American writer, discusses Tony Hillerman and issues of appropriation in a post http://lindarodriguezwrites.blogspot.com/2012/04/literary-mystery-noveliststony.html She feels that Hillerman was respectful but points out that not all indigenous writers and readers agree.

What is a world?

When you build a world, you should think about language, customs, and culture.  Think of a story set in a horse racing track. 

The horse racing track has its own language—in English, there are words we use at a track that we don’t use much of any place else.  Horse races are described in miles but also furlongs.  There are stakes and claim races, win, place, and show. 

There are different kinds of people at a race track.  There are the people who come to watch the races; some of them sit in the stands.  Rich people and companies have boxes where food and alcohol are served.  Serious gamblers may stand at the edge of the track instead of being in the stands.  Then there are the horse people—trainers, grooms, exercise boys, veterinarians.  And there’s another group that works at the track—they take the money, work in the office, or serve food.

There are customs—the ‘call to the post’ where a trumpet fanfare is played, the winner’s circles.  For the Kentucky Derby, women wear fancy hats and people drink mint juleps.  The winning horse gets a blanket of roses (which the horse probably either ignores or wants to eat.)

There are uniforms—the ‘silks’ that the jockeys wear. 

It’s a complex world and if your story is, say, a mystery involving a horse racing track, knowing this is the world of your story.

What is the goal of worldbuilding?

Your world is not interesting in and of itself.  Your world is interesting because it

  • Creates an emotion
  • Supports the story or interaction

Some people want to build a consistent world from the very beginning.  I’ve always thought of Tolkien as this kind of writer, but Tolkien turns out to have been more of a pantser than I ever realized.  There’s a letter to his son (http://hedgepickle.blogspot.com/2013/02/trotter-description-of-development-of.html) where he describes writing a scene where there’s a character sitting in the corner in an inn who he calls Trotter.  Tolkien had no idea who the character was—eventually it would turn out to be Aragorn, who you would think was pretty essential to both world and plot.

I build my worlds the way theatre sets are built—that is, you can see a door at the edge of the set and the yellow flowered wallpaper that suggests a hallway, but if you go backstage, there’s no hallway.  I want everything the reader sees to feel lived in, as if it has history.  But I want to evolve my worldbuilding, as Tolkien did, to fit my story, so I don’t try to plan everything out at once.

When I’m thinking about worldbuilding, I’m rarely thinking about geography or even buildings.  I don’t really world build systematically.  I like things to feel messy because my everyday life is messy.  When I first saw Star Wars, I had never seen a science fiction movie where things were dirty, and it just made everything more real. 

When I’m teaching worldbuilding, I suggest that the writers think about:

  • Language
  • Classes
  • Culture
  • Dress and architecture (Styles)

By language I mean jargon or language.  (Junot Diaz has very interesting things to say about using English and Spanish in his works. https://www.nytimes.com/1996/12/08/nyregion/outsider-with-a-voice.html )  But everybody uses jargon.  If your world is a university, there is tons of language; GPA, required courses or GDEs, Fraternity, Sorority, tenure.  At my university, D Clearance is a big issue (it’s a hoop some students have to jump through to get into certain classes.)

There are social classes in university, too.  Students sort into lower classmen, upper classmen, graduate students, PhD candidates, scholarship kids, frat and sorority kids.  People have opinions about Business Majors versus Theater Majors.  Then there are professors; tenured, part time, TA’s.  There are administrators who work in admissions, or residence life (more jargon there) and the working-class folk (in the US, often BIPOC in a mostly white landscape) who keep the place running; landscapers, cashiers, housekeeping.  Each of them experiences the university in a different way.

There are a lot of weird cultural rituals; ‘rushing’ for fraternities and sororities, homecoming, commencement, school colors.

Dress and architecture come in, too.  A lot of universities in the US strive to echo the architecture of Oxford or Cambridge—brick or stone buildings, ivy, walks through grassy lawns. 

When you are thinking of where your story is set, if you have trouble with setting, maybe jot down a few notes about these four categories and see if they help you build out your world.

Writing Exercise: 

  • Make a list of half a dozen ‘worlds’—like the race track, or Junot Diaz’s Dominican-American working class New York high school kids, or of the world of the high school marching band.  Think of places you either know, or are interested in. 
  • Create two characters who are in that world and want different things.  If your world is, say, the homicide division of a police department, maybe both your characters are detectives, or maybe one is a detective and one is a witness.
  • Write a scene—1,000 to 2,000 wds—set in your world.