From the weekend

Okay, slightly different setting. I'm writing this (on paper at least) on Friday night, in Dallas, in the bar of the Crowne Plaza Hotel. The bar has already closed down, and I'm in a comfy chair tucked in a discrete corner where the bartender hopefully won't come over and kick me out.

I'm up here for Fen Con, a literary convention that Claudia introduced me to a few years back. She usually vends at it, and I often come up to help out. I wasn't able to come last year, and I missed a lot of fun. While not as closely related to what I do as World Horror Con is, this is still a good opportunity to touch base with other writers.

One of the panels that I was able to attend was about going to Mars, and it was given by an honest, no-bull, astronaut. Stan Love was up there in space for thirteen days, and he came to the con to talk to all us geeks about the really grounded problems that space travel presents. According to him, the international space station is only 250 miles up. I drove three times that distance just going from Houston to Las Cruces.

Which brings me to a piece I have that's sitting in the rewrite pile called 'In the Dark.' It's the first, and so far only, bit of science fiction that I've written. I don't want it to be horror set in space, but I do want it to have a very specific sense of lurking menace. This is a place where isolated pockets of humanity are huddled around their campfires, seeking shelter from the cold darkness that really wants to eat every single one of them. Those fires just happen to be nuclear-powered, and built inside protective shelters, which are designed to hold in what little air is available.

So how do you spice hard sci-fi with a dash of horror? Since 'you' in this case is me, it's a question to ponder. Horror uses reals threats presented in impossible situations to induce a fear by proxy. That (usually) makes it easier to deal with. With science-fiction, you're dealing with threats that are semi-possible, what the Mythbusters would call 'Plausible.'

Part of how we become afraid when the people around us are afraid is that we pick up on little clues that they give us. We see them breathe differently, we notice that their pupils are dilated, and we get uncomfortable when their movements become jerkier.

I suspect this is why a lot of folks give themselves away when the police interrogate them. All the cop has to do patiently sit there and gently poke a few mental buttons on their suspect, and then watch for results. In a situation like that, there is no visible, present threat, but people react as if there was. It's not likely the cop is going to draw their weapon and shoot, but if they just hint about all the terrible things that could happen, they get the result they want. If they can pull up something solid and concrete that the suspect really did, to crank up the pressure, so much the better. But it's the vague possibilities that do the job. Put in too many concrete details, and holes can be poked in the scenario.

What sorts of vague hints could I supply about a place where food, water, heat, and shelter from solar radiation is the exception and not the norm? I'm smiling just thinking about them.

This has been another of those posts where I sort of think through the eyes of my blog, with your help of course. You may not realize that you help, but you do. I thank you for that.

Still writing