Writing

The Current Of Forms

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

While reviewing my plans for 2023, a few possible writing ideas tempted me.  However, that temptation turned into classification as I told myself certain ideas worked as blog posts.  Fortunately, I stopped myself and asked a question. 

I asked “why am I assuming these are blog posts?”

Suddenly I felt a shift in perception.  Why do some of us – as I am sure I am not alone – assume the proper form of an idea so easily?  We feel this is a blog post, this is a book, this is some nebulous project we discard, and so on.  At least for me – and I am sure others – it seems we build a mental filing system for how to realize our writing and then rarely touch it.

This “current of forms” that draws us along is similar to ideas of adaptions.  A book becoming a movie or show is treated as some kind of triumph.  I mean it’s often a financial one if you get a good deal, but is it really?  I’ve encountered media in different forms and been surprised what worked well, as opposed to good, if profitable.

This is doubtlessly due to my revived interest in ‘Zines and ‘Zine history.  Seeing so many people self-publish booklets, magazines, and oddities opened my mind to the many ways to give expression form.  I wonder if there are so many ways to publish now that we just automatically slot our ideas into one of the many existing ways and then stop thinking about it.

But it’s worth thinking about!  Is something best as an ebook, or a physical book, or a podcast?  Why is it authors must have a blog when their books may speak for themselves?  Is a podcast more someone’s style even if they like doing a newsletter?  I think it’s worth rethinking what forms we give our works as we may be missing better – and more enjoyable – ways of doing it.

My mind’s been opening up since then.  Why not do some works as PDF e-zines (say, on Itch.io) than blog posts?  Shouldn’t I make print versions of my small Way With Worlds books as they’re so popular and can be donated when one is done?  Maybe I should do that podcast . . .

Do I know where this is going?  Nope.  But I feel like my creativity is going into an interesting direction, freed from the old currents of my mind, and I’m curious to see what’s next.

Steven Savage

Dogs In Space Season 2: A Risk That Paid Off

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Previously, I reviewed Dogs In Space (the Netflix show, again, not the movie on punk).  I was surprised at how good this Sci-Fi parody was, enjoying the family-friendly adventures of uplifted dogs trying to “fetch” a new home for humanity.  Though it had erratic moments, it was well-done, built a continuity, and had some gut-punch moments exploring its premise.  When I saw that Season Two had dropped, I watched it immediately, finishing it in two evenings.

The choices made surprised me -pleasantly so – and are not only good but show the importance of choices writers made.  Sometimes there’s funny, but then there’s funny with meaning.

Season One was a mix of shenanigans parodying Sci-Fi tropes, and continuing plot, ending in the cast of genetically-engineered dogs going through some personal changes.  How would the show deal with so many repercussions in Season Two?  For the writers, the answer was lean the into repercussions full force.

Season Two was almost all about the results of characters’ actions in Season One (and Season Two) having effects, often serious ones.  There was no happy reversal of fortune to establish a norm, no reset button to deliver more of the same.  In fact, parts of Season Two and its entire climax made no sense without having seen Season One.

It was still funny, at times very funny, but it was humor in the context of a developed setting where actions have consequences.  Much of the humor, indeed the theme of the season, was repercussions.

Season Two also explored backstory of the characters and how their personality quirks mean real trouble.  Some of this built the world, some seemed to tie up “spent” plots, and others explored unsavory repercussions of character traits that would otherwise be one-note jokes.  It was as if the authors were saying “that thing you laughed at in Season One is funny in a darker way if you think about it . . .”

Pleasingly, this wasn’t just characters being in a setting pinball machine.  Characters are explored, make choices, and deal with results.  Side characters weren’t forgotten and get to reappear for critical moments – and they just came in and dig their thing with no big “hey, it’s them” fanfare.  The elements of the show’s world mattered.

(I was thrilled one of my favorite side-side characters, the friendly but butt-kicking Saint Bernard Duchess got a moment.  If you want to see a humanoid dog go sword-swinging anime heroine, this is your show.)

I found this continuity-focus a very bold writing choice, and it tells us something about parody.  A good parody (which Dogs in Space is) can keep leaning on its jokes and get a lot of mileage out of that.  But meaningfully embracing the continuity you’ve built and being funny is the real challenge, and Dogs in Space pulled it off, making the show meaningful (while still keeping some dog jokes, of course).

There was still some uneven plotting as Season One had, but this time it seemed to be due to the challenge of having a continuing plot.  A few early episodes just aren’t that interesting, and the final story arc ties heavily into Season One, but it didn’t get foreshadowed well.  I’m sure there were a lot of plates to spin, while keeping the show both funny, serious, and family-friendly.

The emotional bite was also different.  Season One’s gut punches really came more and more near the end of the season, but Season Two spreads them out.  Though the end was quite dramatic, I was never quite sure when an emotional swing would come at me – which made the experience more enjoyable!  All the winding character arcs, backstory, and more were surprising, making the serious elements matter even more.

Dogs in Space Season Two showed courageous writers embracing continuity heavily, understanding it was a strength of what they’d created.  It’s a reminder that even when you’re doing funny, doing funny in a good setting with repercussions gives the audience a deeper experience.  Humor that matters is humor that hits harder and makes the darker jokes more thought-provoking.

Plus, kudos to Season Two’s cliffhanger ending.  It not only expands the universe, but promises even more complicators for our heroic canines . . .

Steven Savage

For Our Writing To Matter

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I see an obsession with some writers about “having it last,” that thing that ensures your book has an impact.  They want the physical copy everyone is reading on the airplane, the wide distribution, becoming a classic.  That’s very understandable, we humans are social creatures, and we want to affect people.

I get the desire for impact.  But I’d argue that many things we use to say “my work has an effect” don’t really mean we will.  At least not a good one or a lasting one.

A physical paperback in stores, all over the world?  Well, maybe people read it, but also perhaps no one buys it, or it costs too much.  A small, cheap ebook might reach more people faster, especially specific audiences or via libraries.

Wide distribution?  Well, maybe you’ll reach people and change them.  Or maybe your book clogs the shelves of used book stores and library donations.  Maybe your book is spread out so wide that the right people don’t get reached. 

Becoming a “classic?”  A longshot, but also a chance your work is consigned to dusty academia and forced on students, meaning your work is isolated, hated, or both.  Taxidermy isn’t immortality.

(There is of course the chance that all you do means you get all the wide distribution and become a classic, but you wrote something that doesn’t make a difference.)

I’m not saying this is easy; I’m saying that if you want to change the world, make sure you’re doing it in a way that works for you and your goals.  Following someone else’s recipe for success doesn’t mean it’ll work for you.  In the writing world we’ve got so much advice that if it all worked, a lot more of us would be successful.

Serdar and I often discuss how we know people who were deeply affected by our writing.  Not a lot of people, but those who experienced profound changes.  Would we rather give 100 people a fun read or five people a life-changing event?  It’s a question to ponder.

I don’t have an answer for you – I just want you to ask the question what is the best way to matter.  Your  ideas may be wrong.  You might not even care and just enjoy writing so if you’re happy, you are the target audience.

In closing, let me share an experience. I do books on Worldbuilding, the Way With Worlds series.  Though there are two large start books, most of the series are small, cheap ebooks that focus on very specific subjects.  You grab a book for $2.99 America, read through fifty questions, and get on with writing.

These books are my best sellers by far and people seem to like them.  No one is going to list them as classics, no one’s entire writing career will be defined by one book.  The small books aren’t even available in print, though I’m thinking of changing that to help more people.

Apparently, they have an impact.  It’s not big or flashy, but judging by reviews and discussions, they help.

Maybe they’ll even change the world indirectly.  Some future hit book that makes a difference may have in its literary DNA one of my tiny guides.  It won’t be many writers’ definition of success, but it definitely is one of mine.

Steven Savage