Category: Science Fiction

Why Write Novellas?

3/2/2025

In the 11 years I’ve been writing fiction, I’ve only completed one full length novel. The two others I started sit stranded at around 30,000 words — the characters fated to remain frozen mid-action surrounded by the crumbling facades of my world-building. I just can’t muster the commitment needed to revitalise them. Yet, in those same 11 years, I’ve written a multitude of short stories, numerous poems and seven novellas.

When setting out to write the Ghost Assassins of Bijou series. I made the deliberate choice to write them as novellas. Each of the five stories are between 22-29K words in length, so roughly 100 pages in book form with a reading time of 2 - 4 hours. While each novella stands alone, as a series, they read as a layered and complex novel.

In a 2014 essay, Allan Gurganus said, “A novella, containing the best of poem and novel, gives us the whiplash of one and echoes of the other.” I find beauty in the stark brevity of novellas and prefer the sharp stab of emotion to the drawn-out torment of longer-form novels. Then again, I also rip off plasters and dive into freezing water…so my reading preferences reflect my life-style perversities.

When I consider my favourite reads from the last few years many of them are novellas:
To Be Taught if Fortunate by Becky Chambers
This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone
All Systems Red by Martha Wells
Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

None of this is to say that I don’t like reading novels or even sagas, I do, but I prefer the shorter form. I’d rather read a series of short books set in the same world / universe, than a seemingly endless saga rolled into an enormous single offering. I’m easily bored and often skim-read large swathes of a saga to leap from one action scene to the next. Whereas, I'll cling to every nuance and word of a well-crafted and perfectly formed novella.

As a writer, the novella has given me the freedom to be innovative in how I use words to create emotions and responses. In the Ghost Assassins of Bijou novellas, I’ve made use of songs and haiku to invoke a sharper emotional response than could be achieved with even the most beautifully crafted paragraphs of prose and dialogue. I've also experimented with different points of view.

I don’t consciously follow formats such as the Hero’s Journey or the 3-Act Structure when I’m writing a novella. This doesn’t mean there isn’t a flow to the storyline or a lack of tension, it just means the points of high emotion, high tension and relief occur organically and often in ways that aren’t expected or anticipated. When read as a series, the high points hit differently.

Like Martha Wells’ Murderbot Diaries and Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti Trilogy, the Ghost Assassins of Bijou is a series of novellas. In this way the series offers the complexity of a novel — deep world-building enriched by multiple points of view and subplots weaving through an overarching storyline — with the artistry of a poem.

Novellas offer a deeper exploration than a short story, while being more focussed than a novel. Our minds are busy, and our senses overwhelmed. Every day we’re assailed by an avalanche of unfettered information that we must critically assess to determine what's true, what's important, and what's critical. When I read a book, I want to escape and be distracted from the horrors and mundanities of our increasingly dystopian world.

So, when I write a book, I write it for me. And this is why I write novellas.

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Monsters From the Deep

10/31/2024

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In the antipodes, Halloween is out of season, it’s spring here and all about rebirth and hope. So rather than talk about spooky things, this month I’ve mixed my interests in monsters and marine critters to talk about monsters from the deep.

As I’ve been writing the initial five Ghost Assassins of Bijou novellas, I’ve leaned into my training and expertise as a marine biologist. Bijou is a marine planet, with an equatorial archipelago of extinct volcanic islands making up the minor terrestrial habitat. Much like we Earthlings, the human inhabitants of Bijou are limited to the land and the coastal fringes and surface of the ocean. As the stories have progressed, it’s become obvious that, also like us, the human residents of Bijou know next to nothing about most of their planet. Unlike us, however, they do have relationships with the sentient inhabitants of their ocean—especially with the belosa, a cuttlefish-like creature, some of whom choose to be living spaceships for the ghost assassins.

I could have created an entirely new creature to fill this role, but the shape and motion of cuttlefish lends them beautifully to being spaceships. They’re also intelligent, have distinct methods of communication and are well studied. This made it (relatively) easy to take an extant creature and develop it into one of science fiction. And there’s so much more life in the depths that we can use in this way.

The deep sea is Earth’s largest habitat, offering a massive 97% of the habitable space available to life on our planet. Which is remarkable, given how little we know of the lives and range of creatures that exist there. It’s estimated that we know less than 10% of the existing species of the deep sea. What monsters lurk beyond our reach and understanding?

Let’s set the scene in our search for monsters from the deep.
The deep sea is defined as beyond the reach of light, on average this happens at around 200m of depth. No plants live beyond this depth. The water is cold (~2°C), and the pressures are immense (an additional atmosphere of pressure for every 10m of depth). Around 70% of the sea floor is abyssal plains, but there are a multitude of other habitats including: seamounts, canyons, troughs, ridges, cold seeps, hydrothermal vents, polymetallic nodule fields, and asphalt fields or brine pools. Life in these habitats requires extreme (to us) adaptations.

Many animals at these depths have foregone the need to move. Why waste energy on locomotion when the food comes to you? Others have abandoned the sun as their source of energy and rely instead on the energy contained in inorganic chemicals that leach through Earth’s crust at vents and seeps. Oxygen isn’t always required, and life has found ways to exist in extremes that should kill. Creatures are diverse, often long-lived, and can be surprisingly large.

Onto the monsters!
Let’s start with Cnidarians (the C is silent)—jellyfish, corals, anemones and hydroids. These creatures have a mouth that also serves as their anus, they also have muscles, reproductive organs and tentacles. Already so much fun. But best of all, they kill with an explosion of tiny poison-tipped harpoons. Imagine visiting a strange planet, where simply brushing past a delicate feather-like shrub results in your body being swamped with a neurotoxin that stops your heart. The feathers wrap around you and the creature spends the next century feasting on your remains. Or your spaceship emerges from hyper-drive into the slow drifting tentacles of a massive space-jelly. There is no escape. Death is slow in the gut sac behind the creature’s dual-function mouth/arse—but it’s inevitable.

I’m not going to bother talking about marine worms, because…well…Dune. We all know what that looks like. All I’ll add is that the penis worm doesn’t hunt—it waits. To capture passing soldiers, the penis worm vomits out its toothed throat then retracts it, dragging the flailing prey with it. Death by penis worm—so noble.

Molluscs include a wide variety of life-forms including snails (gastropods); clams (bivalves); chitons; and squids (cephalopods). This group is rich pickings for premade monsters filled as it is with active predators armed with deadly toxins, camouflage and more terrifying tentacles. Probably the most frightening thing about molluscs is the weird feeding organ they all possess. It’s called a radula, a movable belt covered with teeth. The radula can scrape flesh from bones, drill holes in the hulls of space stations and inject toxins into unwary interplanetary explorers. Abandon all hope, weary travellers.

Crustaceans are equipped with many limbs. So many limbs. Delicate antennae that detect movement, taste, electrical currents to focus the hunt. Legs and more legs enable them to skitter over the barriers protecting a newly established colony. They swim through space and time using the oar-like appendages under their tails. Hidden beneath desert sands, they’ll spy on you with stalked eyes, then snap you up with claws and pincers that hold, slice and dice. Some of them move so fast they can teleport. You’ll never see the parasite before it steals your body for its own purposes—leaving you a more witless zombie than usual.

Next on our list of monsters from the deep are the armoured echinoderms—starfish, sea cucumbers, urchins, brittle stars, crinoids and the like—distinct in the animal world with their 5-sided symmetry. Ravenous and relentless they glide across the vast freeze-dried plains on hydrostatic tube feet. They’re impervious to your weapons. When they catch you—and they will catch you—they’ll hover over your trapped body and extrude their stomach out through their mouth. Once you’re digested, they draw their stomach inside and glide away. Behind them, the hollow husk of your once perfect body wafts in the currents of an alien breeze.

When you stare out at the night sky, filled with stars and mysteries, some of those stars aren’t what you think they are. Giant angler fish drift the universe on cosmic tides, their bodies invisible against the blackness of the void. Some of those distant stars are bioluminescent lures, hung out to draw in unsuspecting colonists searching for planets within the Goldilocks range. Once the unspeakably enormous maw closes its needled teeth around your interstellar generation-ship, the lights wink out—forever.

If, these macro monsters don’t offer you the perfect character for your next space horror…then what about the dangers of the micro monsters of the deep. Imagine bacteria that deplete the sulphur in your skin, leaving you with lesions that can’t heal and a compromised metabolism. Maybe the archaea in your gut are replaced by those that feed on, rather than produce, the methane you require for digestion? Deep sea viruses are more likely to be lysogenic, meaning they replace sections of your DNA with their own to reprogramme your metabolism for their own needs and they need to be cold…so very, very cold.

Honestly, I could write so much more but I think I’ve made my point. There’s no need to reinvent biology in the search for monsters. The way I imagine and extrapolate monsters from living creatures is, if it can swim it can probably also fly, if it can live in the dark expanse of the ocean, it’ll do just fine in space and if it’s small it can become very, very big.

Need more inspiration? Then, let your fingers lead you down a penis wormhole of online research. Or head to your local library and flick through any number of books about sea life (because it lives in my bookshelf, I referred to Peter Batson’s 2003 edition of, Deep New Zealand: Blue Water, Black Abyss, in my research for this blog). Finally, if you enjoy a field trip head to your nearest aquarium or marine research lab on an open day.

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Why Speculative Fiction?

6/1/2024

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Human beings, and I expect many our hominid ancestors and relatives, have indulged in sharing speculative fiction for as long as we’ve spoken stories. We created myths and legends to explain the world around us – to rationalise what we saw, felt, heard, tasted, and smelled. We’ve always speculated about things that lie beyond our understanding. It’s in our very nature to ask, ‘What if?’

We love reading speculative fiction. According to Wikipedia – if we ignore religious texts (I have thoughts), comics and textbooks, and add Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings (reportedly over 120 million copies sold in different formats) – 5 of the 8 best-selling books of all time are speculative fiction (and, yes, this is a western-centric assessment).

When we engage with speculative fiction, we’re not just entertained, we’re taken on a journey into the unknown. It allows us to indulge our desire for the extraordinary. It’s an invitation to dream and question.

Speculative fiction offers us an opportunity to interrogate the real world from a safe distance. We can investigate what it means to be human. Most of the stories in ‘Letters From Elsewhere’, my collection of speculative short stories, explore what it means to be monstrous. What better way to do that than from the perspective of a so-called monster. Who was more monstrous – Mary Shelley’s Dr Frankenstein or the monster the he created?

Another favourite character of mine, who offers a unique perspective on humanity, is the cyborg, Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells). Much of Murderbot’s understanding of humanity comes from streaming soap operas, but when they work alongside actual living humans the reality is quite different. Through internal, and often comedic, dialogue, Murderbot provides a running commentary on the dangers of human emotions and how they compromise our motives and behaviours.

Through speculative fiction, we can hold a mirror up to ourselves in a manner that isn’t dangerous or confronting but gets to the truth of who we are. It allows us to confront our deepest fears, desires, hopes and wildest dreams from within the safety of fictitious construct.

Think of how ground-breaking ‘The Left-Hand of Darkness’ (Ursula le Guin) was in challenging the concept of binary sexuality, and ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ (Margaret Atwood) was in exploring the rise of fundamentalism. Both books brutally critiqued society. That’s what speculative fiction can do.

Sometimes, the answer to ‘What if?’ isn’t happy. I wrote ‘Rose Moon’ in response to the election of Trump as President of the USA. I imagined a human world darkened by repression, cruelty, environmental damage, and religious extremism – tragically, that didn’t turn out to be the speculative component of the novella!

In the upcoming ‘Ghost Assassins of Bijou’ collection of novellas, I’m delving into misogyny, repression and the patriarchy. To lighten the tone, I’m telling the stories in the form of a Space Opera with humour woven through the prose. The messages are no less confronting, they’re just delivered in a more palatable package.

In speculative fiction, we can imagine how different environments, technologies, or societies might alter the human experience. Speculative fiction can foster discussion about socio-political issues, encourage diverse thinking and offer concepts for technological innovation. Submarines, space travel, computers, cell phones and virtual reality all featured in speculative fiction before existing in reality.

Speculative fiction taps into our curiosity about the future, the supernatural, and the abstract possibilities that lie just beyond our reach. It’s also fun!

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Getting Your Facts Right

1/31/2024

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I recently read H. P. Lovecraft’s 1936 novella, ‘At the Mountains of Madness’. If you haven’t read it, it’s a science fiction horror story set in Antarctica in the 1930’s. It describes a scientific expedition hit by disaster after the discovery of impossibly old fossils on the icy continent. Not being fond of Lovecraft (I find his writing overwrought and he was a raging racist) this was not a recreational read.

I struggled with much of Lovecraft’s ‘science’ and assumptions of what was possible in that environment, particularly in terms of aviation and human survival. I’m an ex-scientist, who has a professional understanding of the rigours, limitations, and requirements of carrying out research in Antarctica. I understand he wrote according to the knowledge of his time, but he had a deep interest in Antarctic Science of the day. As such, he would’ve had access to articles and reports from Scott’s ventures to the continent some 20 years prior. In addition, aspects of his novella were, in part, based on Byrd’s 1929 scientific endeavours. Byrd, the first person to fly in Antarctica reported his struggle to gain altitude on the Polar Plateau (over 10,000 feet lower than Lovecraft’s intrepid pilots flew!). To give credit where it’s due, Lovecraft embraced the emerging theory of continental drift, a concept considered fringe science in the 1930’s. So, he couldn’t claim to be ignorant of the science of the day, yet he ignored much of it.

My annoyance at Lovecraft’s fanciful exaggeration of what his characters could achieve in Antarctica got me wondering — does speculative fiction need to be factually accurate?

The answer is — not always. If it did, there would be no space for the imagination and the impossible: no monsters, elves, fairies, aliens, warp-drives, teleportation, or magic. Speculative fiction doesn’t need to be scientifically or historically accurate, but it does need to be believable, and any deviations from known truths should be explained. I most definitely do not prescribe to the Write What You Know school of thinking, but I believe writers should do appropriate research when necessary. With such easy access to information, there really is no excuse for making mistakes.

When I wrote the fantasy novel ‘Gods of Fire’ (Currently not available and may never return to the ebookshelves), I set it in the real world in the late 10th and early 11th century. A good chunk of the story took place in Scotland, and it seemed natural to me that the characters would drink whisky. I did some research on the origins of whisky distilling and to my great disappointment found that whisky wasn’t distilled until 1494. My poor characters had to put up with shitty beer and mead.

In my ‘Ghost Assassins of Bijou’ series, I need faster than light travel (FTL) to enable the assassins to travel the known universe. I don’t explain it in any detail, and I don’t have to, because the series sits somewhere between soft science fiction and a space opera. BUT, I did do enough research into the possible physics and mechanics of FTL to enable me to use the correct terminology and have confidence that it wouldn’t sound ridiculous to most readers. If I was writing hard-science fiction, I would expect to include a level of technical information, based on current theories, to keep a space engineer happy.

I think it’s important to know your own limitations. I’m not a great planner and the characters, plot and setting of my stories evolve as I write them. My stories are generally character, then plot driven. The setting, which includes technology, history, society etc, needs to be just enough to make the story believable. I’m just not going to spend a year or more working on the fine details of the technology of a planet or spacecraft. I will never write hard science fiction and I accept that.

If anything, I probably spend too much time on research to the detriment of my writing time. I once spent a day trying to find a word to describe the way a cat’s whisker move forward and spread out when they’re hunting — in the end I wrote “…outstretched whiskers”, it still annoys me I didn’t find something more evocative. Most of the research I do never appears on the page, but what does appear is informed and supported by what I’ve learned.

Sometimes we just don’t know what we don’t know. That’s when we need help. Find a friendly scientist or historian to read your questionable science and history. Don’t be afraid to put out a call on social media for help. I guarantee you, someone you know, or someone they know, knows of a rocket scientist!

So, in the spirit of supporting my fellow writers, get in touch if:

You need help with understanding marine science, general biology, Antarctica, or farming (sheep, beef, deer);
You want some advice on writing good sex scenes, world-building or writing emotion.

If I can help, I will.

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Genre Blending

10/5/2023

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I often blend genres in my stories. I don’t do it to challenge standard conventions of genre, but as an extension of the “What If?” question. What if an elf finds herself in space? What if a Greek god finds herself in Aotearoa? What if pirates are in space and use sex as a weapon, a reward and a negotiation tool?

What is a genre?
Genres began when Aristotle developed an absolute classification for Greek Literature: they’ve evolved.
Today, genre is an ever-expanding way to group books. Genres are used by librarians and booksellers to group books on shelves. They’re also a strong marketing tool and set readers expectations.
Genre fiction can be broken into a multitude of categories, including: comedy; fantasy; science fiction; climate fiction; dystopia; erotica; horror; crime; thriller; historical; romance; western; war; spy; and so on…the list is ever changing.
By blending genres, we create opportunities for new ways to tell stories. For example, science fantasy: where technology and magic coexist, and space opera: where science fiction, fantasy and drama can coexist.

How to blend
It’s important to start with a base genre. At its core what is the plot of your story about? Once the base is established other genres can be overlaid. It’s important that the secondary genres enrich, but don’t overpower the base genre. Each element must play a part in the plot or contribute to character development.
In my collection, Letters From Elsewhere, the story, Moths to the Flame, is at its heart a science fiction story with elements of fantasy, erotica and historical fiction.

Why blend?
Multiple genres can add depth to the plot. Readers don’t want to just know the science in science fiction, they want to know how it impacts the characters. Characters come alive. A detective story is one thing, but what if she’s having to deal with the challenges of being married to a vampire? By blending genres, the world gets bigger. We can create a universe where everything is not as it seems.

But the most important thing is to write a good story. All the genres in the world won’t make up for poor character development, weak world building or a lack of plot.

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Creating A World

9/21/2023

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All forms of writing require some level of world building. This is especially true in speculative fiction. The reader needs to have a sense of the environment within which the story takes place. That environment is wider than just the physical setting, it includes all the trappings of a society: art & culture; food & drink; politics & religion; fashion; science & magic; infrastructure & transport; technology & structures; languages & class structure; flora & fauna; disease; races of humans, monsters & aliens; and rules & laws – amongst other things.

BUT (that’s in capitals because what follows is very important) …all the details of the world you create don’t need to be included in your story. I know it’s tempting to include it all that gritty minutia you spent hours, days and even weeks researching and thinking about, but just don’t. Only include enough to provide a scaffold for your reader’s imagination, context for your characters, and to move the plot forward.

Because I’m a discovery writer (I discover the story as I write it), I don’t do a great deal of world building before I start writing. I’ll just do enough to get me going. My typical approach for developing a world is very organic. I start with the main character. Once I understand who they are and what drives them, I can start to write the plot around them. The final step is to construct the world in which the character and the plot exist. This means my writing is often interrupted by periods of research.

For The Grotesque Wars (novelette in Letters From Elsewhere), I spent a lot of time researching castles. The final story only carries a glimpse of all that research. I’ve included just enough so the reader can picture a castle, but not be bogged down and distracted by in-depth descriptions. I know the exact layout of the castle and even details of the materials used in its construction, but these have no bearing on the story. Specifics, where needed, are woven into the story, rather than dumped in as a chunk of exposition.

In my novella, Rose Moon, the story moves between three realms: a fantasy realm; a human realm; and the realm of the seasons. Each needed sufficient depth and vibrancy to make them real. Most of the action occurs in the human realm, so that’s where I needed the most detail. I had to consider politics, religion, laws, technology, magic and the setting. Then, determine how the realms interacted.

In the above examples, the worlds were built on an earth or earth-like reality, but that’s not always the case. I’m working on a series of space opera novella’s, Ghost Assassins of Bijou, where almost nothing about the series universe is familiar. I’ve had to build almost everything from scratch, but I start with the known.

The assassins and their targets are human, but different races.
Societies are versions of democracy or autocracy.
Religions have distorted to fundamentalism and misogyny.

After that, and because I’m not bound by hard science, I can let my imagination riot.

Spacecraft are mechanically enhanced, sentient cuttlefish-like creatures.
Intergalactic travel is possible via ‘Punch Flight’.
There are multitudes of sentient species other than humans.
Universal translators are glitchy, but exist.

Worlds don’t need to be based in reality, but they do need elements of fundamental truths. Readers need to have something or someone they can identify with or understand.

There’s a whole bunch of stuff I have high confidence writing about: women; sexuality; animals; habitats; politics; and the logistics involved in managing large-scale international projects. There’s a much larger list of things I have less confidence about, including: technology; physics; strategies of war; legal systems; and medical procedures. Those differing levels of confidence will dictate how much research I may need to do, which facets of a world will be more important to my story, and whose perspective the story is being told from. For example, if I have a scene set in a hospital, it will be told from the perspective of a visitor or patient, not from that of a surgeon or staff nurse.

Setting is a critical component of world-building. All too often it’s one dimensional – visual. Add richness with the other senses. The stench of rancid milk evokes an almost involuntary gag reflex in most of us. That first mouthful of rich, bitter coffee in the morning is nirvana to some of us, and repulsive to others. Aromas and flavours are powerful drivers of emotion, as is sound. The mewl of a kitten, the screech of brakes, the scream as you plunge a knife into someone’s stomach. Don’t forget the feel of the warm blood as it splatters on your face, the silk smoothness of the dress you wear, and the irritation of the sand in your eyes. Use all the senses to draw your reader deep into your world.

Finally, it's important to remember that no world is perfect. There will always be dissent, crime, and inhabitants of societies fringes. Recorded history doesn’t always align with reality, it usually suits those who are in power. The same applies to the interpretation of the tenets of religion, think about the difference between a zealot and someone with faith. We’ve bred thornless varieties of lemon trees but left to themselves, they revert. Animal species aren’t meant to be able to interbreed, yet there are numerous examples of hybrids in nature. Don’t limit your world to one dimension – allow it to be full and rich.

Here are some of my favourite worlds.

Pern – Ann McCaffrey
The Dandelion Dynasty – Ken Liu
The Murderbot Diaries – Martha Wells
Binti – Nnedi Okorafor
Discworld – Terry Pratchett

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What do you write?

11/5/2016

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‘What do you write?’
It’s an innocent enough question to ask when someone is introduced to you as a writer. But to be honest, when someone asks me that simple, naïve question I break into a cold sweat!
It happened at a party I was at the other day. And the ensuing conversation was a complete train-wreck! I’ve been thinking about it since, trying to figure out why it so often goes wrong.
Just to be clear, I write using a pseudonym. I’m not embarrassed about what I write and, unlike other writers I know, being revealed would pose no threat to my livelihood or family. I use a pen-name to keep the slightest degree of separations between my worlds, specifically when it comes to social media. However, there are differences between the public personas of writer-me and day-to-day-life-me. So, when face-to-face with a stranger, telling them what I write reveals that duality.
The question ‘what do you write?’ always makes me pause. During the pause, I do two things. First, I panic! Second, I consider the person I’m facing. Do they look open-minded? Am in the mood to shock them? Will they think I’m a freak? Do I care? Will I ever see them again anyway? Based on scant first impressions, and after an uncomfortable silence, I fashion a response for them.
Sometimes, I simply say I write fiction, hoping that will satisfy them. It seldom does.
Sometimes, I state I write erotica. Without fail, they immediately think I write bodice-ripping romance novels, and feely offer their opinion on that genre. I have no problem with the genre, I read it in my younger days while hiding under the blankets, it’s great fun! It’s just that I don’t write it!
Usually, I tell them I write fantasy and science fiction. And, this is where it gets weird in my mind, because the general response is something like – ‘oh, children’s stories.’ Which tends to make me stutter and blink in disbelief.
So, in all cases what follows is a weird conversation where I try to explain that I weave explicit sex into the fantasy and science fiction genres as a way of exploring humanity’s fundamental interest in sex and sexuality in unique environments and circumstances. I try to talk about how I like to delve into the darker aspects of ourselves by using non-human creatures, often interacting with human’s. But, by this time, I’m losing them and they usually politely excuse themselves, leaving me standing alone pouring another glass of wine down my throat.
I find it painfully difficult to explain in person what I write and why. I want people to know I’m a writer, I’m proud of what I do and achieve. There is a part of me that seeks the acknowledgement and praise of others. I just don’t know how to clearly and calmly explain it, in a conversation with a complete stranger, in a way that doesn’t leave us both disturbed and scuttling away to safety on opposite sides of the room.
Any suggestions?

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Why Write Novellas?

Monsters From the Deep

Why Speculative Fiction?

Getting Your Facts Right

Genre Blending

Creating A World

What do you write?

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Categories

Why Write Novellas?

Monsters From the Deep

Why Speculative Fiction?

Getting Your Facts Right

​Genre Blending

Creating A World

What do you write?

Archives

Categories

Genre Blending