Avatar and Anathem

Within two weeks I've been transported to two entirely different worlds, neither of which I've wanted to leave. So I guess I'll have to just shuttle between the two.

It's a long time since I've been as swept away by a book as I was by Neal Stephenson's Anathem. I'm a fan of Mr Stephenson, so was hoping for big things – also wondering if he could top the stupendous Cryptonomicon and Baroque Trilogy. Oddly, despite its massive size and scope, Anathem feels less sprawling than those earlier works, largely because Stephenson ditches the multi-POV approach and tells the story entirely from the viewpoint of Raz, an avout in a concent on the world of Arbre (no I'm not going to explain any of that). The story starts slow, but is never less than fascinating, and steadily builds up an astonishing head of steam. There's enough discussion of matters both quantum and philosophical to melt your brain several times over, all presented by engaging characters in a fully realised and utterly unique world. And an extended orbital climax that's as dramatic and witty and outrageously imagined as anything you could wish to read.

It's also a long time since I've been as swept away by a movie as I was by James Cameron's Avatar, I'm a fan, blah blah ... Well, Mr Cameron's done me proud and created a truly monumental film here. The story grabbed me from the get-go, and all the leads deliver fabulous performances, whether in their human or Navi form. Am I deliberately leading on these things and ignoring the eye candy? You bet, because the eye candy is what the movie's being sold on, but without a story ... well, you know the rest. As for the visuals ... Cameron's taken Barsoom and Pern and Dune and the Amazon rainforest, put them in a blender and come up with something that's beautiful and spectacular and utterly convincing, in a way I've never seen before. Utterly convincing, and seductive, and alien and just plain real. And that's coming from a long-time SF movie geek. My only carp is that here and there the pace could be a little tighter, but I can forgive Cameron because he does what Lucas failed to do in his prequel trilogy – he takes the time to immerse you in his imagined world, rather than rattling through it in fear you may get bored. Bored I wasn't. When I finally stowed my 3D glasses and left the cinema, I felt like Jake Sully waking up back in his human body – I just wanted to go back to Pandora.

"Being original" is the Holy Grail for writers of speculative fiction. Neal Stephenson achieves it, I think. James Cameron's working in a different, more conservative medium, with a lot more money at stake. So Avatar is derivative, where Anathem feels more wholly new. But Stephenson acknowledges his sources, just as Cameron does – check out his website for this generous list of background material he used while writing Anathem. And Cameron cites Burroughs et al as the inspiration for Avatar. Both, however, are skilled enough to stand on the shoulders of giants and see something nobody's ever seen before – and open up the view for the rest of us to boot.

What made me enjoy Anathem and Avatar so much was the sure knowledge that Neal and James (I think we're on first name terms now, guys) created their stories just for me. They know what I like. They know how to tease. They know how to send a shiver down my spine and prompt me to say, "Oh you clever, clever bastard" when they throw in an unexpected twist, or take the entire narrative up a gear, or show me something that simply takes my breath away. They keep tricks up their sleeves. They know they're going to leave me both filled-up and sad when the last page turns and the credits roll.

So, right after Christmas, I'm booking my tickets. An excursion to Arbre first, followed by a sightseeing trip of Pandora. Because both these places are real, you see. It's the only explanation. The only possible way Neal Stephenson can have written Anathem is by slipping sidways through Hemn Space into a parallel narrative (I'm not explaining that either). Likewise, James Cameron has clearly travelled to a breathtaking world inhabited by giant blue aliens you just want to hang out with. They've seen other worlds, and been kind enough to share their experiences. So it's our duty to follow in their footsteps. What are you waiting for?

Snow and Crouch End

Two things to report today. First, it's snowing in Nottingham. Second, I too used to live in Crouch End.

New interview

I was recently interviewed by creative-writing-help.com – check out the link for more about how I started out writing, and how I go about doing what I do.

Blowing own trumpet in silence

I wish I could share with you some nice reviews of a book I wrote earlier this year, but there are a couple of stumbling blocks. First, it was a ghosting project, so I remain resolutely anonymous about the whole thing. Second, first publication was in a language other than English, so I'm forced to run the reviews through a translator before I can get to grips with them. You'll just have to to believe me when I say the star ratings were pretty healthy and the readers seemed to be hungry for more. Which is good because there are two more in the pipeline!

Writing, or how to make balloon animals

A productive week so far: 8,000 words laid down for the new novel I talked about in this post. I'm working from a pretty tight outline, but even so it's a buzz to be writing the real words. However good it may be, an outline's like a limp balloon. It's not something you'd ever want to take to a party. Writing the real words is the equivalent of pumping the thing up. Then maybe pumping up another one and tying the two together. And then maybe attaching some more. Before you know it, you've made a giraffe. With luck, it's not just full of hot air ...

Think I'll stop now before I flog that particular analogy to death.

The 8,001st word is Abalone.

RIP Robert Holdstock

David Langford reports that fantasy author Robert Holdstock has passed away at the age of 61. A sad loss indeed - he was one of the greats.

It's all a plot

I'm plotting three novels at once and it's melting my brain. In a good way, of course. The best way really, because in some ways plotting is the most exciting part about writing fiction. At this stage of the game, anything goes.

To explain, I'm between books in the ongoing ghost-writing project that's taken up most of my year so far (and will continue to occupy me for the first few months of 2010). So I'm taking the opportunity to work up a proposal for a new series of fantasy novels I've been planning for a while. Three books to begin with - as for what happens after that, well, it depends whether I get a publisher to bite or not.

Yes, that means I'm plotting books for which I don't yet have a deal. Trust me, that happens all the time. Which is where the excitement and the brain-melting comes in. Because, much as I'm conscious of market trends and projected page counts and all the conflicting demands of a publishing industry that's feeling the pinch, there's nothing more thrilling than planning your next book. So I'm plotting. And plotting. And plotting.

These days I work mostly in a notebook. Sometimes I draw mind-maps and flow-charts but with this project, for some reason, it all wants to come out in words. A lot of the notes I make are conversations with myself, peppered with frustrated outbursts when I can't get things to hang together. I plot anywhere: on the sofa, in coffee shops, on public transport. I suspect, however, that the real work's going on in the back of my mind when I'm doing other things. Either that or at three in the morning when my brain just won't let an idea go.

You have to be careful though. Plotting's all very well, but plot's not everything. If you read a book that's entirely plot-driven, you know it. The characters do things not because they come naturally but because the plot demands it. They act, well, out of character. Lots of plot often means lots of coincidences. Trails lead neatly to resolutions. Story arcs curve like rainbows towards conveniently placed pots of gold. Everything fits just a little too neatly.

So even when you're plotting you have to keep it messy. Or at least leave yourself room to make a decent mess when you come to write the damn thing. You still have to look at the action through the eyes of your characters, make sure they're properly motivated. It has to feel right, which doesn't necessarily mean it all has to add up.

And the end result of all this? Well, I'll have a page of background on the series as a whole, plus a page of synopsis for each of the three novels. I'll have a character list for the first book, and a detailed chapter breakdown that runs to maybe eight thousand words. Once I'm happy with all that, I'll write the first five or six chapters of the first book. Then I'll get some feedback from my agent. Then I'll know if I'm on the right track.

Excuse me now. I've broken off the plotting to have lunch and write this blog entry. But I reckon one of my villains isn't being nearly villainous enough, and I've just realised there's a cracking revenge story to be told in the middle of book three. The plot thickens.