Why I Write Unscientific Science Fiction

In the writing world, lots of advice gets flung about. Show, don’t tell. No prologues ever. Write with the reader in mind. One bit of dogma oft-repeated is that if you’re thinking of a genre story, ask yourself what makes it genre. Why does it need to be, say, science fiction? If it can occur just anywhere, why put it in outer space?

Putting aside the implied stigma of “oh noes, don’t write genre if you don’t have to!” it’s actually a legitimate planning question. I’m all for chasing inspiration, but one should be sure it’s inspiration one follows, and not merely habit.

So why am I writing SF? Especially unscientific SF, or as a friend on Twitter recently put it, “fantasy-ish stuff?” Even in the slums of genre, you see, a pecking order exists, and space opera is pretty low in the ranks. SF is about ideas, some will announce, forgetting the origins of SF in the pulp magazines. SF is about science, some will sneer. Faster Than Light travel is fantasy.* Why am I, then, writing stuff that makes me that oddest of creatures, a Turtleduck?

My answer to “why write SF?” is generally a snort of “I have spaceships.” It’s a simple answer, but it’s also completely true. I can’t actually point to one thing in each and every story that makes it necessary to write that story as SF instead of, say, fantasy, or even contemporary literature. The entire reason Dream’verse is SF is…spaceships. I want to be able to look at different civilizations, at distant places and new life, to throw in nearly anything and everything and see how my characters do. And I want the far-flung family effect, the clash as dear friends come back together having learned far different lessons in their adventures. For that, I need SF (or to steal Amber, but too many Zelazny fans would bring pitchforks and torches) and I need Faster Than Light travel in my SF universe. Which, some will insist, takes me into the realm of science fantasy but hey. I don’t subscribe to the notion that we know what’s actually impossible. I mean, anybody hear about those guys who may have proved Einstein wrong?

Ahem. So. Dream’verse. Eve Marcori was born on an orbiting research station. Taro Hibiki was born on a small freighter in h-space. Joss Ravid, whom readers will meet soon, was born on BFR. All three will find themselves at some point on Kari’s Star, a planet where religious squabbles have turned to civil war and not even the richest chiefs can afford carelessness.

In His Faithful Squire, Taro, Rafe Ballard, and Eve meet on Evergreen, one of the oldest colonies and a place more stable–and stolid–than any of them have ever seen before. The culture clash (of which readers will find much more in Eve’s unpublished-as-of-yet tale of events) was much fun to write.

On Dallas colonists raise beef and other things while hosting tourists in “Old West Simulations” to bring in Galactic money. On Goodfella pretty much any luxury–or vice–can be had for a price. On Morgan’s Chance the police don’t even bother going in the Sewer Section of the main port. It’s illegal to land on Tolberra VII, but people do it anyway. Ships landing where the natives don’t approve, though, have been known to disappear.

So why do I write the Dream’verse in the SF genre? Because only a galaxy is a big enough sandbox for all the things I want to build, that’s why. Anyone who doesn’t like it (oh noes, space opera!) can find the door. Or talk to Taro–he’s manning the Complaint Department this week.

*For the record, David Weber is considered “hard” SF and he uses FTL travel. He just explains it. Over and over again. (Also for the record, this is a foible that I tolerate because David Weber is awesome. Honor Harrington rocks my world. So there.)