Worldcon 2022

I am back home following Chicon 8, the 2022 Worldcon. This was my first ever Worldcon; I’ve been wanting to attend one since I was a teenager, so fifty years, maybe?

I had a blast. The con was great. The hotel, the Hyatt Regency Chicago is mammoth, but appealing. I volunteered to sit on panels, thinking that since this was a Worldcon, I should consider myself lucky to get on one. They assigned me to four! I’m going to guess that someone on the Program Committee listens to The History of the Twentieth Century.

Not only did I get four panels, but I was assigned to moderate two of them. I quickly learned this is because it is a job no one else wants. I even moderated my very first panel, so no pressure! I’ve been on many panels and moderated many times at other cons, but this felt as if I went from performing in a touring company to opening on Broadway. Everything went well, though. My co-panelists were without exception polite and kind and had interesting things to say.

I was especially excited to share a panel with Victor Manibo, whose first novel, Sleepless, has just come out. I had already heard good things about the book and its author; I’d bought it, but haven’t had a chance to finish it yet. Imagine my surprise when he turned up at my left elbow at my first panel!

SFWA did not have a suite at this con, but did have a get-together for drinks at the hotel bar (which claims to be the longest bar in North America). I got to spend time with a bunch of cool writers, including John Stith and Joe and Gay Haldeman.

So a good experience all around. The best part: I remain Covid-free. The con reports 60 known cases out of about 3,500 attending, so that’s not too bad. Everyone was good about masking and distancing.

You know, I think I’m going to do this again.

On Mercedes Lackey and the 2022 Nebula Conference

I was attending the SFWA virtual Nebula Conference this past weekend, and like many atendees was startled by Sunday afternoon’s announcement that Mercedes Lackey, the writer who had been named a Damon Knight Grand Master just the previous evening, had been removed from the Conference for using a racial slur while participating in a panel discussion on Saturday.

This got me thinking.

To begin with, I should note that Mercedes Lackey is 71 years old. I’m 64, just seven years younger than she. My initial “gut” reaction was that this was harsh. I can remember a day when the word she used was commonly heard, especially from the lips of older people, and am inclined to judge older people more generously. It really is hard to change when you get older!

But on further reflection, I realized that it’s been half a century since this term was common. Fifty years ago, I was a teenager and the people using it were in their sixties. Now I am in my sixties, but still unconsciously conflating people older than me, like Mercedes—who, I reiterate, is only seven years older than I am—with people who were in their sixties fifty years ago, that is to say, people who were born around 1910 and would be more than 110 years old if they were alive today, which they are not.

The television show All in the Family premiered in 1971, and on that show, Archie Bunker regularly used the same term Mercedes Lackey used. But even in 1971, his use of that term was intended to convey his insensitivity, and even within the confines of the show, African-American characters complained about it. Please note that when All in the Family premiered, Mercedes Lackey was 21 years old. I was 14.

So there really is no excuse for using in 2022 a word that was considered insensitive even in 1971. Moreover, the fact that one would blurt out such a word in a public forum is strongly suggestive that one uses the word privately with some frequency. I have never in my life used that word in that way, not even among my closest friends and family, and thus have never had the slightest difficulty avoiding it in more public venues.

Okay, but isn’t SFWA spoiling the occasion for Mercedes Lackey during what is supposed to be one of the high points of her career? Maybe, but then Mercedes Lackey spoiled the occasion for a number of Nebula Conference attendees, notably the African-American writer who shared the panel with her.

I have a confession to make: I watched that panel and the epithet in question went right by me. I didn’t even notice it. Of course, that’s because I am not one of the people who is hurt by that particular word. It’s much easier to be generous about this kind of thing when you aren’t personally affected by it.

Also, the very same circumstances that might make you inclined to give Mercedes Lackey a pass—that she’s an older writer with a distinguished career, that this was, in some sense, “her” special event and the rest of us are celebrating her—these are always the reasons given to let a slight go unaddressed.

It is the most powerful people, the most respected people, the elders among us, who are the most likely to get a free pass. But is that really fair? Surely the most powerful, the most respected, the elder leaders, also bear greater responsibility to lead us all in a better direction. To whom much is given, much is required, to coin a phrase.

We’ve tried for fifty years to rely on gentle persuasion to get people to become more sensitive, and you see how far that’s gotten us. Maybe The Mallet of Loving Correction (to coin another phrase) is more effective. And maybe demonstrating that even those who are bigger than we are have to answer for their use of language helps drive the point home.

That’s why I support the decision of the SWFA Board of Directors.

“The Boy Who Didn’t Know How to Recognize a King” Announcement

I am happy to announce that my fantasy short story, “The Boy Who Didn’t Know How to Recognize a King” will be published by Aliterate magazine!

Aliterate describes itself as a magazine of “literary genre fiction,” and I have been told the story is tentatively scheduled for publication in the Spring 2018 issue. It may also be posted online, although I can’t tell you that for sure, yet. So stay tuned; I’ll be able to give you more solid information when we get closer to the date.

“The Boy Who Didn’t Know How to Recognize a King” is based upon an authentic Khmer folk tale, “The King and the Buffalo Boy.” Of course, I have elaborated significantly on the original story.

I hope you like it!

A Writer’s Guide to Yes and No

So, thinking about how to write about seventh-century Anglo-Saxons raises questions about two simple words you would think no writer would need advice on: yes and no. But if you are writing out of your own time and place, you do need to be careful about what you do with these words. A few thoughts:

Modern English uses yes and no more often, I think, than did our ancestors in the past, and more so than speakers of other languages. In today’s global village, where English is used so heavily as a second language, it seems this trait of English is leaking into other languages. I think modern speakers of Spanish, say, use and no more often than they used to.

Some languages get by perfectly well with no words at all that correspond to our yes and no. Finnish, for instance.  Classical Latin did not have words for yes and no. These languages get by just by repeating the verb. For instance:

Has he left?
He has left.
He has not left.

So if you are writing a story set in ancient Rome, you can help convey the feel of being in a different culture at a different time by not using yes or no to answer questions. And, as I say, if your story is set in a foreign country with a different language, or especially in the past, you can help convey that by omitting yes and no, or at least minimizing the use of them.

In my case, with The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, I have all but removed yes and no from the manuscript. I do global searches from time to time to sift out cases when I used them without thinking, which I sometimes do. But the Anglo-Saxon language did have words for yes and no, so it needn’t be a hard and fast rule. There are times when you really want to use yes or no because the character is being emphatic, and that’s all right. Although they said yes and no less often back then, the times when they did use them, it was to be emphatic.

But the other tricky thing is that the Anglo-Saxons actually had four words: yes, no, aye, and nay. So if you’re writing in old or middle English, you really need to know how to use all four. Wikipedia has an article on yes and no that can help you. Basically, if the question is affirmative, you use aye and nay. If the question is negative, you use yes and no. For instance:

Has he left yet?
Aye, he has left.
Nay, he has not left.

Hasn’t he left yet? (Or maybe, Has he not left yet? has a better period feel.)
Yes, he has left.
No, he has not left yet.

So there you have it. I’ll bet hat’s a lot more words of explanation on how to use yes and no than you ever thought would be necessary.

What do you think? Have I got it right?

(Lots of good work on the project. I’m up to about 110,000 words.)

(Cross-posted at The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.)

More on Words

I’ve been thinking more about word choice, and I’ve decided I haven’t beaten this dead horse enough, so let me say some more.

As I’ve said, one of the glories of the English language is that there are often three (or more) different ways to say something, Anglo-Saxon, French, and Greco-Latin. Each one has its own distinct color. Or flavor, if you like.

This is something that all writers need to pay attention to in their own work, even if they are not writing epic fantasy novels set in Dark Age England. Because the colors are going to work for you (or against you), so you need to understand them.

Greco-Latin verbiage is technical, bureaucratic, and polysyllabic. This language can communicate with great precision, which is why scientists and academics and the educated frequently employ it. The difficulty inherent in using this language is that it can feel abstract and colorless. And though it is precise language, its very technicality facilitates confusion. Audiences can be misdirected by this language, and its very sense of sophistication can be used to induce the credulous to conclude that important ideas have been expressed, when in fact the language is basically empty of content.

French words lend themselves to express beauty, artistry, vision. It is the language of grace and balance, a ballet of letters that can touch all the pleasures and mysteries of experience. French words lend themselves to poetry. They are the music of the soul.

Anglo-Saxon speech is short, punchy, and earthy. The words are crisp. They show meaning without bloat. They are words of feeling. Words of love and hate. Words of life and death. Blunt, hard words that make sharp thoughts and quick deeds.

Did you see what I did there? Ha, ha, yes. I am so clever. I did the thing I was talking about while I was talking about it. But I think even in these hastily constructed and self-conscious sentences, you can see what I’m driving at. Note too that I constructed more complex sentences to go with the more complex language, and simple sentences that go with the simple words. The longer sentences are sentences of mood and contemplation. The short, punchy sentences are sentences of action and passion.

(I am now 107,000 words into this project. I am no longer sure whether I have two long books or three short ones. Who knows? Maybe three long ones by the time I’m done. I’ve decided to just go ahead and write the damn first draft already, and worry about structure later.)

(Cross-posted at The Sorcerer’s Apprentice)