Five Ways
Subscribe to my newsletter and get a free story!
Share this:

WIP: No Clue What the Title Is Yet

Photograph of a diagram showing the different kinds of starting points for a story.
A story in very rough form.
Working on a far future space story that is getting very complicated with its gender stuff. This is one of the things that annoys me sometimes about future space stuff — that it superimposes early 21st century (sometimes earlier) gender patterns in a way that I know is hard to avoid but which infuriates me when it’s unquestioned. I just reread The Pride of Chanur (OMG how is that out of print in hardcopy??) yesterday and love the way Cherryh handles the question.

Hence this story of two cultures clashing, and both the gender norms and the norms around the sex act are getting tangled up in interesting ways.

Anyhow, this is currently the story’s beginning (and is a good candidate to remain the beginning):

“It can’t be avoided, Tom,” Gayathri said to her spouse. “I know it’s Age-Come for Suzette and Bit, but they must deal with an outsider visiting. To keep Grace, they must be taken in by one of the Lines, and everyone else is dealing with emergencies right now. i can’t create a diplomatic incident over the feelings of two family members. They must learn to adapt.”

“It’s not the quarters that’s a problem,” they grumbled. “Since Bethany and Besa moved over to their new Line, we’ve had extra. But Gaya, this means adjusting all my meal planning.”

“A few more servings here and there”¦”

“Individualized cakes with names on them for the party, for one,” they said. “And the centerpiece was a fondant scene of the family. Now how will I incorporate them?”

“I’ll send you a couple of images from her press kit. Dress her in scarlet, that’s the Corps color for women.”

They frowned at her. “They dress in different colors? What do they do about in-betweeners or asexuals?”

“The Corps doesn’t allow them.”

They rolled their eyes. “One of those.” They eyed her. Her own insistence on keeping the same gender without ever attempting other forms or sexualities was a sore point in the relationship. While not unknown, it was eccentric enough that Tom found it embarrassing.

“A wealthy one of those, with money to invest on the behalf of her coalition. You will be nice.”

In the end the tiny fondant image of the Gräfin was easy enough. A little twiddling let Tom print a sugar face, which they affixed with a dab of icing. They’d been working on faces for the family members for a month: seven generations would be represented, which they privately thought a poor showing, but Gaya’s family was so much newer than the one they’d married out of. And cooking for that family on such an occasion had been making food for several hundred. Tom might have had more help in their family of origin, but there would have been considerably more work.

Still, the loss of Bethany, the most interested in kitchen work, had grated on them. Bethany had known how to help, how to clean up after Tom as they moved through the kitchen as well as how to supply whatever it was that was needed, prepping the mutual mise en place to perfection. And the pair known each other’s depth of perception, could tease each other with tastes, ask advice on building a sauce that reached past acid and sweet to take on other notes and textures.

They tapped air bubbles out and tamped the face down with a toothpick, then set it in the diorama to one side, clearly an onlooker. They relented and moved it a few inches further in. The poor woman couldn’t help it that she came at an odd time.

The diorama sprawled, a meter in diameter, on the kitchen’s center counter. They circled it, looking it over in the lime-tinted sunlight cast through the rear windows that overlooked slopes of garden leading down to the lake, an expanse that would have swallowed the massive house entire without a thought, its surface glutted with water-lilies.

In a week the swollen cream-colored heads would burst into blossoms, soft explosions that would happen as dusk settled, while the nightbirds sang, and the children would have an Age-Come that let them step into new roles and responsibilities if they chose. Sometimes children decided they did not want it yet and retreated. Tom didn’t think Bi would. They had borne the baby, carried it within their body till birthing time, and that gave the two of them a special knowledge of each other. Suzette had come into the family as a baby when one of their parents had married in, and the affection Tom held for them was the same as that towards most of the two dozen children: pride and affection, but perhaps not to the same fierce degree they experienced when teaching Bit “” not cooking skills, to their chagrin, since the child expressed no interest, but other basics, like how to tie a knot or do daily chores.

Tom had been expecting them for a while, but they came late to breakfast and inspected the diorama dutifully, without focus or remark, before sitting down.

Turning from the heat counter, Tom slid a plate of pancakes in front of the child, who inspected it with the same lack of interest the diorama had evoked.

Jitters. “Having second thoughts? Should I move your figure to the sidelines? You wouldn’t be the first.”

A headshake in reply. You try not to press them, let them grow at their own pace, but they do it to themselves. “It’s only one change, one of plenty in your life. Take it at your own pace, however you like.”

Enjoy this sample of Cat’s writing and want more of it on a weekly basis, along with insights into process, recipes, photos of Taco Cat, chances to ask Cat (or Taco) questions, discounts on and news of new classes, and more? Support her on Patreon..

6 Responses

  1. Cat, this seems more like Lois McMaster Bujold than C.J. Cherryh (faves of mine either way). But I’m about to reread PRIDE OF CHANUR myself, more for how she keeps that intense narrative drive going than for gender issues. But I’ll have to read for both now.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Get Fiction in Your Mailbox Each Month

Want access to a lively community of writers and readers, free writing classes, co-working sessions, special speakers, weekly writing games, random pictures and MORE for as little as $2? Check out Cat’s Patreon campaign.

Want to get some new fiction? Support my Patreon campaign.
Want to get some new fiction? Support my Patreon campaign.

 

"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."

~K. Richardson

You may also like...

Catching Up, Plus An Excerpt From Hearts of Tabat

Photo of a clock shaped like a Neko Cat, altered with the Percolator app.
This Sunday’s online class is Literary Techniques in Genre Fiction. Come and pick up some new tools to use in your fiction!
Hello folks! January has been crazy, and I have been bad about blogging. One thing I’m going to be doing going forward is scattering in some food posts, because I’m cooking a lot this year as well as working with the SFWA Cookbook Project.

BEASTS OF TABAT is coming out on March 27, 2015, at Emerald City ComicCon, which is very exciting, but also blindingly fast. If you want to get news about the book and other projects, please sign up for my mailing list:

#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */

Subscribe to my mailing list

* indicates required

Email Format

(function($) {window.fnames = new Array(); window.ftypes = new Array();fnames[0]=’EMAIL’;ftypes[0]=’email’;fnames[1]=’FNAME’;ftypes[1]=’text’;fnames[2]=’LNAME’;ftypes[2]=’text’;}(jQuery));var $mcj = jQuery.noConflict(true);

Meanwhile, I’m working away on two book projects, one a YA novel, the other Book 2 of the Tabat Quartet, HEARTS OF TABAT. It picks up halfway through BEASTS OF TABAT and involves three of the secondary characters. Book 3, EXILES OF TABAT, will take up the characters from BEASTS OF TABAT again at the point where BEASTS leaves off. Book 4, GODS OF TABAT, is plotted but I’m still figuring out the viewpoint stuff.

One of the viewpoint characters of HEARTS OF TABAT is Adelina, Bella’s former lover and closest friend. I’ve been writing about her this morning:

Adelina knew that in producing only one child, Emiliana had replicated the structure of the family from which she’d come. She wondered sometimes if her mother ever had, like Adelina, wished for a sister. What would it be like to have another soul that knew all the peculiar circumstances of your family existence, the conglomeration of odd relatives and circumstances and situations but more than anything, knew all the little sore spots that the world insisted on imposing, like the way her mother could, with a single look, indicate so much disapproval of an outfit.

Adelina straightened her shoulders. This was the first time she’d appeared in front of her mother wearing the cut and device of a Publisher, the open pages of a book, edged in the gold lines that indicated she was the head of a house. There were only five people in Tabat qualified to wear that device, but Emiliana refused to see any distinction in that. A house that worked in paper was lower status than one that worked in metal, let allow the heights that a banking house like the Nettlepurses were at. In Emiliana’s eyes, Adelina had stripped herself of all that, had stepped down into what was for Emiliana the equivalent of a puddle of shit when compared to the rarefied heights she had been born into.

Adelina imagined a sister standing beside her, whispering in her ear, “It’s all right. She doesn’t understand what an advantage such an outlet could be to a banking house.” A sister would have been willing to take the reins of the Nettlepurses and work together with Spinner Press, taking advantage of all that the two could offer each other.

But that was the other part of Emiliana’s disappointment. There were others who could take Adelina’s role, certainly, but they were all of distant blood, rather than her child.
And while Adelina could argue the advantages of her having formed the publishing house over and over again, she couldn’t argue with that disappointment, the real reason that underlay the look Emiliana gave Adelina as she came into the breakfast room.

But Emiliana said nothing, only offered a sharp nod of greeting, and returned her attention to the newssheets in her hands, the accounts of the morning arrivals at the docks, which ships carrying what, traveling mainly from the Southern Isles or elsewhere on the coast, but sometimes from the Old Continent or even places like the Rose Kingdom or the Winterlands.

In other news, I’ll be speaking briefly at an animated short films presentation that’s part of the Seattle Asian-American Film Festival on February 14th. See the Supernatural Seattle blog for details, and follow it on Twitter in order to get news of events and posts as they appear.

...

Online Fiction Recommendations & Publications for 3/12/2013

Photograph of a red flower.

Here’s some pieces that I’ve particularly enjoyed over the last week, as well as pointers to some recent publications of my own.

Print:

Audio:

P.S. If you’re in the Seattle area, Deb Taber is reading tonight at the University Bookstore and should be well worth attending.

...

Skip to content