First, the bad news. I’ve pushed back the release of Ghosts Cry to July 30. It’s a Thursday. I’ve given up trying to avoid launching during a crisis, and that’s all I’m saying about this disruptive political year. (Other than to bemoan, again, how hard it is to attract new readers to a series set in a parliament house when everyone is increasingly allergic to politicians, who famously infest…ahem…serve with honor and dedication in parliament houses. Sigh).
Second, the idea of reading journeys that I mentioned a few weeks ago is definitely something I want to do. They would make a nice Christmas present: books to read before reading a particular book of mine; books to read after. It’ll be a challenging project, but hopefully fun.
Thirdly, I’ve been thinking about the value of fiction in what I can only consider “interesting times” (a la the ancient curse “may you live in interesting times”). I haven’t come up with anything worth writing a whole post about—yet. But I did want to mention two ideas I’m musing on.
- Open a book. Open a door. Going out of yourself and your world to discover your truth in fiction. In a world that can feel very oppressive, fiction is a safe space in which to be vulnerable and to explore.
- Speculative fiction in an age of derivative or scripted AI creations faces new challenges. AI can predict trends, cobble together plots (tropes and target audiences/niche subgenres), and hit the market with a full advertising package. I imagine this will happen more and more, and be done not only by AI enthusiasts, but by independent authors and by traditional publishing houses. I fear it will degrade and devalue the reading experience, and it is vital that authors write books with heart (sharing themselves, respecting others, discerning meaning, and communicating hope) and that readers continue searching for such books and sharing them with other readers.
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