Jockeying For Position
Following on from the post about Sanderson’s lectures, he had a guest lecturer in Short story writing- Mary Robinette Kowal. Short stories are something I ventured into despite knowing that I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing. I just wanted to create something and learn through doing, a process the complete opposite of what I’ve done creatively before. Her lecture (click) is easy to understand and very clear in outlining how short stories are a very different medium to full-length novels. During the lesson she had the students write a flash fiction piece, in the Science Fiction genre, using the words ‘Jockey’ and ‘Coaster’ as push-off points.
As a professional, her example was superb and illustrated how she was using specific tools to weave an engaging story. Silly as it sounds this was something of a lightbulb moment for me. A lifting of the curtain on writing processes in general. Somehow it never occurred to me that there were techniques, frameworks and tools that all authors use to structure and hook readers. (And also to troubleshoot their novels and fix them in subsequent drafts).
Who knows what I thinking before, that novel writing was some innate superpower? Or maybe that stories just sprung from the ether? IDK, anyway, at least now I don’t put as much pressure on myself to be perfect and try and write without criticising every sentence before I finish.
This is another class I highly recommend, and I’ve tacked my unedited Sci-Fi Jockey Coaster below because, y’know, one of the major points of this blog is for me to share things I’ve written. Enjoy.
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“Welcome back Calvin Fogg, please proceed”.
Calvin rolled his eyes at the robotic, stilted greeting. His Dad’s stables were so old school, all biometric scanners and voice alarms. The first thing he’d do after winning the derby would be to get his own place- AI Holo-concierge, engine upgrades, self-cleaning pens-The works.
This time tomorrow he could already visualise himself on that podium with the trophy and 15.5 mil of crypt sliding its way into his bank account. He walked over to his faithful steed to give her a last routine check, and his fantasy bubble popped.
The low hum of his Coaster’s recharge mode was heavy and strained - was she was overheating? Calvin hopped into the pen and placed his hand on her flank, pulling it back sharply. Yep, definitely fucking hot. Cursing himself, he pulled on a pair of damper gloves and gingerly removed the titanium casing. The problem was, thankfully, obvious - something thin and shiny flapping in the grill of the cooling vent. He pulled it out, but before he could get a closer look at it, a torrent of fluid erupted from the grill.
Calvin scrambled to the corner workbench, searching for anything to stop the leak. He skidded on the now slick floor and crashed into a shelf, landing firmly on his butt. A cascade of nuts and bolts covered him. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the leak stopped.
He stared at the Coaster apprehensively, ego and backside bruised, expecting something else to go wrong. He realised he was still clutching the silver foil in his fist. Closer inspection revealed it to be some sort of scrunched up note. He chewed his lip as he unravelled it, realisation slowly dawning.
‘Water balloon in the coolant grill? Oldest trick in the book. Bet it still got you though, eh rookie? Good luck tomorrow, FF’
Frank fucking Fogg. Twenty years retired yet the old man still knew how to get one over on him. He shook his head in disbelief but couldn’t suppress the smile. Bastard.
When he got his new stables, there was no way Dad was getting past the front door.
