Not So Mad Science Experiments

Mad science isn't always as mad as first it seems.






Case in point: I write this blog post while tucked up in a huge bed in a hotel room that's far too big for one person. Why? It's an experiment. We all recall how experiments are supposed to be designed, yes?






Hypothesis, experimental set resulting in data that either prove or disprove the hypothesis. (Okay, it's way more complicated than that in the real world, but I'm not attempting to get my experiment into a peer reviewed journal, I swear.)






The original problem to be solved: Adult life is noisy. The brain is filled with GOTTA DO, GOTTA BE. OMG, DON'T FORGET THE THING! Normal stuff. It's just that over time, responsibilities can gain so much volume that they drown out the quieter voices of story.




Thus, hypothesis: Casting off responsibility to everyone and everything but oneself for a brief period of time (minimum of 3 days) will drain the noise from the brain so story voices become more prominent.






Given the tolerance of family and modern life (and possibly the bank account), the experimental set is poorly designed because it encompasses only one sample set: A hotel far enough away from daily life so that daily life cannot easily intrude, yet close enough to not destroy a budget. My experiment set is structured like this: Get on the first ferry of the day (5:30AM) and put Puget Sound between me and the rest of my life. Bus to Port Townsend - a Victorian seaport that was supposed to have been what Seattle became - a huge, bustling port. It didn't. Now, it's a lovely little town of galleries, shops and Victorian era buildings which includes the Palace Hotel. Yes. It was, at one time, a brothel. I stay in Miss Kitty's room. It's on the corner of the building with views of the ocean and of the main street in town. Every evening at dusk, the local starling flock plays tag up and down Water Street. This room is the best front row seat for that acrobat show. Port Townsend is where aging hippies come to retire and to farm. And start up restaurants featuring all local, organic produce, herbs, and other yummy stuff. The town is big enough that there's always something to see if you don't mind walking. It's small enough that you'll see pretty much everything in a day unless you have a way to get up to Fort Warden to wander the old gun emplacements on the bluffs overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Point being that there are cool things in town to see, but not so many that a writer looking to drain the brain noise will be distracted and lulled by all the shiny. Did I mention writing? Required as part of this experiment. Pen and paper. Laptop. Don't care how it happens, but it must. No rules. No constraints. Doesn't have to be the WIP. It can all be journaling - anything to get what's clogging up the synapses OUT. Last time I conducted this same experiment, NIGHTMARE INK was the result. Total surprise because I was writing something else at the time. I thought. Which brings up a point. Not conducting this experiment while on deadline for a contract. Freedom to let rise whatever wants to rise within the mad scientist/writer is required.




Results? Oh, I know what I hope those will be. I know what they've been in the past - returning to everyday life with the voices of my characters strong and loud and taking up too much space inside of me. It sounds bad. It's not. When character voices are taking up too much space, they spill over onto virtual paper so easily. It's not all clarity and smooth writing, but it's a lot less like scraping my claws on a chalkboard trying to dig up a plot point or scene.






And that, all by itself is reason enough for an experiment like this. (Also? Tax deductible as a writing retreat.)

Experiments in Crowd Sourcing

by Allison Pang

When it comes to marketing trends I tend to sometimes be a little behind the curve ball. Sure, I'm on most of the social media sites (except for ones I care little about, like Vine, or any sort of video blogging...no good for me, thanks.)

And I've thought about doing a Kickstarter to get some self-publishing projects out there, but it's still not something I want to hop into just yet. (And I really need to sit down and plan out the concepts more - there's a lot of coordination that needs to be done.)

But I did stumble across something relatively new a few months ago: Patreon. 

In a lot of ways, Patreon is like Kickstarter. There are goals and reward tiers, but the difference is that it's an ongoing donation - or maybe more like a subscription. Patrons choose to contribute a certain amount per month or per item of content. (And they can set a max, so they don't go above a set amount per month.) In return, they get access to whatever reward tier they're subscribing to.  (And reward tiers are hard - obviously you want to give people something for their buck, but not something so huge or complicated that the effort outweighs the value. But it's hard to know sometimes without actually trying it.)

For something like my web comic, it seems like an idea thing to try - if only to offset the cost of webhosting and art supplies. (And ideally, if we get enough, it will help Aimo and I to look at getting Fox & Willow ready for print, or even start some additional projects.)

It's an experiment, though - we've only been up for a few weeks, and I'm learning both how to manage the patron system and figure out the best way to advertise it. Like so many other things, I'm not a huge marketing person - it's pretty easy to fall into the obnoxious category and the last thing I want to do is turn people off.

Anyway, you can check out the Fox & Willow Patreon page here. :D

Writers: Experimenting Past The Point of Crazy

Experiments. 

Taking chances. Risks. 

That's the sort of crack on which authors thrive. Square Peg + Round Hole = Magician's Hat. When we're in our creative groove there's nothing holding us back. 

Everyone's heard the term "crap draft," right? The first draft of the story, the one where crazy is a requirement. We experiment with anything and everything. Concepts, characters, conflicts. The weirder the better. Logic gets its day on the second draft, the torturous FIRST EDIT (which might lead to the seventeenth edit, but hey, different topic).

Plotter or pantser, as long as it's fiction being written, both types of writers are experimenting. The death knell for an author is the moment we become formulaic. Readers become disappointed. Sales wane. When we stop experimenting, our stories turn tedious and predictable.

So, dear writers, pull on the white coats and cackle madly.  Leave those straps unbuckled. We've a license for crazy and a permit to experiment endlessly.

Oh, and don't worry, I wasn't going to leave you without a video...

Experiments and a Sneak Peek from ROGUE'S PARADISE

My colleague/friend/boss, Laurie, visited us in Santa Fe this weekend. She and I went on a whirlwind road trip to Oklahoma City to pitch a scope of work for a proposed project and then she spent a couple of days with us. It's always fun to have people visit, because we go out and hit the sights in a different way than we otherwise do.

(Read: crucial errands and otherwise pretty much never leaving the house.)

We took her to the San Marcos Cafe (and Feed Store), which is this very funky, out of the way restaurant. Not the usual Santa Fe scene. Not just because there are peacocks in the desert.

The word of the week is experiment. Which should make it an entertaining week, as I anticipate much experimenting.

However, the word makes ME think of one person: Gwynn, the heroine of my Covenant of Thorns trilogy. She's a scientist by inclination, training and profession - even if she has become a sorceress after being trapped in Faerie. She frames her observations in terms of hypotheses and experiments, a mental discipline that helps her wrestle with the whimsical and horrific vagaries of the magically alien world she's found herself in.

Coincidentally (is anything TRULY coincidental??), yesterday I received copy edits for book 3 of the trilogy, Rogue's Paradise. People who've been following the series know (or hope!) that this book will see the culmination of Gwynn's complex, frequently difficult, and always passionate relationship with the fae noble, Rogue. After many adventures together, they've finally gotten to a point where they understand each other better.

Which means, he often teases her now about her scientific thinking - which he can usually hear quite clearly from her thoughts. I had a lot of fun with this.

So, here are a few sneak peeks, that I hope are not spoilery. But - FAIR WARNING - if you don't want any spoileryness (yes, that's a word) at all, stop now!

*  *  *

Going back to the original section, I sketched the facial pattern as it had been the last time I remembered looking. When had that been? Back at Walter’s castle maybe. I should have kept a better record of it. But there hadn’t been that much to it—a curl on my temple, a suggestion of branches, a hint of a curved claw at the high point of my cheekbone.

“There she is.” Rogue’s hands caressed my bare shoulders, soothing my little start of surprise. “My scientist in her natural habitat.”

I turned my head to look up at him. “You listen to my thoughts more than is healthy.”

“But I find you fascinating, my studious Gwynn.” He leaned down and kissed me, a sweet kiss that rapidly deepened.

*  *  *

I traced another line, that forked over his abdomen—like walking a meditation maze—and thought back to the moment when the inspiration had hit me to tell Rogue to shift into the Dog, which was more like setting it free from his flesh than anything, to shake Titania’s grip on his mind. “Because the Dog can cross the Veil and Titania cannot. Therefore, the Dog possesses an ability that transcends her. Also the Dog isn’t bound by vows and agreements—thus it logically follows that the Dog is beyond her reach.”

“Only to your mind.” He sounded admiring, which I secretly loved.

“Do you think my cat will be the same way?”

“It logically follows,” he replied, making me laugh. “We can experiment some more.”

My face flushed hot at the intimate reminder of how he’d played with me. Learning me.

*  *  * this one is somewhat explicit (though smexiest part is redacted) *  *  *

“No thinking,” he instructed. “I have an experiment to perform.”

...

“Now what would my Gwynn say?” he mused. “My hypothesis is that you can do this again. Over and over. I theorize that even you will stop thinking. What say you?”

I glared at him, hovering on the edge of another climax, yet suspended there, exactly where he wanted me. “I say you can’t have two hypotheses.”

He laughed, low and sinister. “Can’t I? I think I can have whatever I want.”

*  *  *

See? Now you, too, will never think of the word "experiment" the same way, ever again. You're welcome.