Trial By Science Fiction: A New Metaphor

One type of fiction I write is science fiction. Breaking into the science fiction genre can be difficult and confusing. It doesn’t work like other genres. There seem to be hidden rules and mysterious do’s and don’ts. Here’s a way of thinking about it that might help keep new writers in a more useful frame of mind.

This is, by the way, the full text of an article that was pared down for its appearance in The Writer.


Hemingway said that, if you choose to write novels, you’re getting into the ring with Mr. Tolstoy. By extending this we find that writing science means getting into the ring with Asimov, Clarke, or Heinlein, et alia. However, boxing seems an outmoded metaphor, so here’s perhaps a more useful and enlightening one.

Think of science fiction as a decades-long trial, with fandom the judge, science the prosecutor, and the writers as defense attorneys. The readers are the jury.

Editors are bailiffs who try to keep out those who lack proper briefs and credentials, and publishers are the court reporters.

All proper procedure must be upheld and all proper forms observed or your case will not be taken seriously and your testimony, or story, makes no impact. You need to know the trial’s history so far in order to jump in effectively.

Ideas serve as evidence, and interpreting each idea in a novel way justifies participation. Introducing new evidence is a rare privilege and earns a full partnership in the law firm. Most must be content to present new wrinkles on established evidence or new spins on another’s testimony.

Would you walk into court unprepared? If you did, would your case stand a chance?

When writing a science fiction story, one ought to prepare as if for court. Appearances, form, and content all must match the prevailing mind set and must not echo or conflict with all that has gone before, unless by doing so a new slant is established.

Reading not only the classic science fiction but as much of the rest as possible is simply common sense. One must know what others have said, and whether one’s idea for a story has been covered already and, if so, whether all possible angles have been examined. Further, one must be aware of trends, which ought to be avoided in order to prevent that awful boredom that sets in when a jury has heard the same basic tone and evidence presented ad morphium. Some fresh approach might wake them up. A new voice might perk the jury’s interest.

Another important consideration is avoiding the toes of senior partners. If you step on them, their owners might decide you needn’t be offered partnership or even further briefs. It’s only sensible to be useful to the senior partners either by tying up their loose ends or by researching areas of the case they might not have considered.

Yes, some neophytes will be eager to count coup on senior partners by shaming them, attacking their premises, or by out-flanking them and playing to the judge’s perceived bigotries. This can work, but is a dangerous set of moves that more often than not leads straight out of court. Bailiffs are protective of the high-priced, well-heeled old pros, after all.

Hemingway chose the boxing metaphor precisely for its confrontational aspects. He believed in being either the champ or merely one of the many contenders. The only way to stand out was to knock the other guy down.

A court and trial metaphor, on the other hand, refines this blatant competitiveness while leaving intact the basic predatory context. Lawyers are often called sharks, for example. They speak of eating the other’s lunch and of tearing testimony apart.

Let’s examine some reasons for switching to the trial referent.

Science fiction is less a literary genre than a continual debate. In no other genre is Golden Age material kept alive by constant references and citations. In no other genre is comparison and contrast used so ruthlessly to weed out the derivative from the original. In no other genre is there such a detailed endless reassessment of the entire body of genre work.

To enter such a rabid, detailed, and diverse debate, a writer must add a new point or spin to the discussion. Those who bring in new topics and themes are lauded as Big Names. Those who merely fill in the gaps left by Big Names who have made their points and have moved on are banished to franchise fiction and work-for-hire media tie-ins.

Originality counts perhaps more than writing skill, and observing the proper forms counts perhaps more than innovation. Knowing the topics already discussed and the points made about them is vital to keep a new writer from either going over old ground or being adamant with an argument already considered moot or passÈ. Such derivative moves condemn a writer as hopeless or helpless.

Further, knowing the material already covered and the names of their main proponents lets a new writer find a place to fit in on his own terms and a place to establish her own name. Paying attention to the genre as a whole also helps everyone know what sorts of logic to advance, how to use research, and how to present supporting evidence.

With such layered considerations, the trial metaphor works at a more detailed level than the boxing image, and allows more leeway in finding a way to fit in.

Fitting in is the key, especially when there are so few open slots. While science fiction is arguably the healthiest genre, the market has shrunk to include only a precious few magazines for short fiction and a diminished mid-list for novels. It could well be that the increased competition encourages dirty tricks, grandstanding, inflated claims and padded credentials — and we’ve seen that in recent debuts — but in any cut-throat environment luck favors the prepared and the knowledgeable.

Impatience may be the single factor responsible for most failed science fiction writers. Too many want it all now, and so have not taken the time or made the effort to become informed enough to be taken seriously by the players, the debaters, the people at court.

Think of science fiction as a trial, then prepare your case as if your science-fictional life depends upon it. Metaphorically speaking, it does.

///  ///  ///

About Gene Stewart

Born 7 Feb 1958 Altoona, PA, USA Married 1980 Three sons, grown Have lived in Japan, Germany, all over US Currently in Nebraska I write, paint, play guitar Read widely Wide taste in music, movies Wide range of interests Hate god yap Humanist, Rationalist, Fortean Love the eerie
This entry was posted in Sample Essays and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.