In a World…

I went about half way through a creative writing BFA program. It was wasted on me. It was not wholly a waste of money and time, I learned some important lessons. I learned that I loath literary fiction. The professors who teach it and the people who read only literary fiction will tell you that it is the only form of fiction worthy of being read by “educated” or “sophisticated” people. Those people are largely snobbish intellectuals who wouldn’t know a good story teller if he leaped onto their dining tables with panther like dexterity, roared “Die you civilized dogs,” and cut off their overstuffed heads.

The literary fiction snobs argue that “genre” fiction is plot driven, formulaic and written for the masses. It’s mental junk food. They argue that literary fiction is concerned with political and cultural issues and the human condition.

Obviously this is all garbage. These idiots have clearly never read Dune, The Book of the New Sun, anything by Heinlein or Pratchett. Pretty much the entire sci-fi genre is about political, cultural issues and the human condition.

The fundamental underlying premise of sci-fi and fantasy is a thought experiment.

In a world where there are wizards with terrifying powers over the mind and the physical environment, how might normal humans react to that?

In a world where it is possible to travel to other planets by folding space and looking into the past and future by taking a nearly fatal does of a substance what might be the religious and political and social implications?

If your entire world was a massive ship and everyone forgot that fact, how might you interact with each other and the environment?

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