Posts Tagged ‘Sylvia Spruck Wrigley’

Old Women in SF—the List

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

When we think about women in speculative fiction, it seems to be fantasy figures that quickly come to mind: Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, Professor McGonnagal and Sir Terry Pratchett’s wonderful witches. When it comes to science fiction, however, the landscape seems to change.

Ten Tips For First-Time Travelers to Helsinki

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

WorldCon in Helsinki is THE social event of the year, and we’re all really looking forward to it. However, for many folks, it might be the first time traveling to a country where English is not the native language. This can be nerve-wracking because it is impossible to know what to expect. In a vague attempt to help, I’ve created this ten-point list of how to cope.

Story Cake

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

The popular advice for writers is to write your first draft for just one person and then to revise for the world. Your voice, they say, should be personal and true and deep but the story itself must have mass-market appeal. This is a rainbow I chased for a long time. Lately, though, I’m starting to question the simple assumption that success is measured by the number of readers.

Seven Days on Skokholm: Part Four

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

The ground in front of me slopes down. There is a red painted stone marking the end of the path, which makes me laugh, because of course I’m not going to stumble down to the cliff edge, the sea crashing against the rocks a hundred below.

Seven Days on Skokholm: Part Two

Skokholm, Richard tells us, is a honeycomb of burrows. The rabbits, the puffins, the storm petrels and the manx shearwaters all make their own burrows and to be honest, it’s a bit of a nightmare, the island riddled with holes.

Seven Days on Skokholm

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

If I had a week with nothing to do, I would write amazing words. I would write a book. I would write a million words and then dream the story while I slept under the stars and then I would write another million words and the faeries would come out and dance around me and I would make novels like the miller’s daughter spinning gold out of straw.