One of my subscribers has asked me to stop talking about Larry Correia so much; she said this space is starting to turn into a Larry Correia fan club, at least in appearance.

(You can become a subscriber, by the way. Scroll down until you see the “Subscribe!” button, on the left if you’re on a computer, and throw your email in there!)

Unfortunately, until I finish blitzing his back catalogue, that isn’t likely to happen any time soon. It’s really nice to find an author I enjoy, with a lot of books to sit down and just read—my hunting and foraging has found a pleasant pasture, and I’m going to eat until there’s nothing left but dirt. Or I get bored.

That said, I do understand that things might be a bit repetitive for anyone not also blitzing through Correia’s back catalogue, so hopefully I can shake things up in how I talk about his stuff. I have a few ideas.

Or maybe I’ll finally watch a new movie and have something new to talk about. I dunno. Reading Wind and Truth soon is also a good idea. I’ve actively avoided reviews for Sanderson’s half-series climax for Stormlight Archives, but what has gotten through has all been positive, which is a good sign.

Discussions—Author Signatures

Here’s a topic that I’ve mulled over as I’ve blitzed Correia’s back catalogue: author signatures. When are they good? When are they bad? Do they even matter?

I’m not talking about a literal signature, of course. I’m talking about story elements that regularly find their way into an author’s works; these could be character archetypes or traits, plot elements, tropes, world building details, a favorite type of description, preferred POVs, approaches to prose, and any number of other things. Perhaps the author really likes working with those elements, perhaps the author subconsciously returns to those elements a lot, or perhaps those elements have become synonymous with the author’s brand and the author consciously works to maintain that; there’s any number of reasons an author may develop a signature.

Here’s an easy example. What’s Brandon Sanderson’s author signature? Deep and complex magic systems. Just about anyone can tell you that.

But does he have any other signatures? Oh, absolutely. If you read a Sanderson novel, nine times out of ten the characters are going to use really weird, sometimes awkward alternatives to real-world swear words. But, storm it, that’s what you come to expect and love (or love to hate) in a Sanderson novel. Also, Sanderson is often praised—or criticized—for his normally utilitarian prose. That’s a signature. (Personally, I like that his prose doesn’t get in the way of telling the story, and I think people who expect authors to write like poets should go read poetry.) And so forth.

Some of Correia’s signatures? Well, based on what I’ve read, a whole lot of detailed fighting. Two, sometimes three climaxes in each book. Tight pacing, definitely leaning toward action, with nary an unnecessary word. Exceptionally planned and plotted—Chekov’s Guns all over the place. A protagonist who is a male warrior of some sort, usually extremely notable for his size (kind of like Correia himself… huh…)—and plot armor. Alternate dimensions/realities. Semi-hard magic systems. Etc, etc.

I first started thinking hard about author signatures because of my writing group. One of our members wrote thirteen(?) books before we formed the group, and we’ve slowly been reading through her back catalogue. It didn’t take long for me to notice that almost every story she wrote featured a sassy or snarky female lead who inserted a lot of opinionated commentary into the first-person prose. Each protagonist was distinct enough that they didn’t feel repetitive or bland, but it was very clear that this author had a favored archetype when it comes to viewpoint protagonists. Another signature of hers was to almost always have a major romantic subplot, assuming the story wasn’t a romance already—which some people might ascribe to genre preference, but I think an author’s preferred genre is part of his signature.

(Some people might look at these things and describe them as part of an author’s style, or his voice. I’d agree that signature and style can be more-or-less synonymous—but, like any synonyms, they aren’t exactly the same. Since I associate voice primarily with an author’s prose, as well as diction and syntax choices, I’d say that voice is a piece of signature.)

But I digress.

I think signatures are often good things, particularly when wielded by savvy authors. We get favorite authors because of their unique combinations of traits, right? It’s good for any author to have identifying features, even if the author has a body of works with a lot of range. It allows the reader to both experience something new when jumping books (or series) and to have enough that’s already known for the new book to still feel familiar or immediately welcoming. It’s a positive way of managing expectations.

If an author is aware of his signatures, he can also intentionally lean into them, or subvert them, for great effect. An example of this, on the subversion side, is Peter Watts. Starfish and Echopraxia taught me that he had the author signature of writing boring novels, but then Blindsight blew me away as one of the best sci-fi books I’ve ever read.

Okay. That was a mean joke. I think Blindsight is a successful enough novel that I’m punching up—but it was the first novel I read of Watts, so I experienced him at his best before sampling his other works. I couldn’t think of any real examples of signature subversion. Shame on me. Maybe my favorite authors don’t subvert expectations much, or I don’t recognize it well when they do.

But not subverting expectations also means my favorite authors rarely take a wild swing and then miss horribly, which is a risk when an author intentionally breaks signature/style. Even if the author does well breaking the mold, his audience still might not appreciate receiving something other than what was expected.

Probably the only time an author signature is a bad thing is when an author clings too tightly to his signatures and his works becomes stale, bland, or predictable. (That might be the result of a lack of imagination or passion more than adherence to expectation, though. There are many genres out there—romance is a good example—that thrive specifically because people know what to expect when reading those books. Some repetition isn’t an inherently bad thing.)

Bloggyness Review—Hard Magic

Speaking of talking about Correia too much… I read Hard Magic recently. And I liked it.

Hard Magic is set in a 1930s alternate history where, several decades prior, some humans spontaneously developed magical powers, and with each subsequent generation more and more people with even stronger powers were born. This, of course, has significantly shifted the flow of human history, with ripple effects that draw our main characters into the novel’s primary conflict.

Specifically, that conflict is between the Grimnoir—a secret society of mages who work to protect people with and without magic from each other—and the Imperium, which is essentially just Imperial Japan with ludicrously strong wizards and a tyrannical leader hell-bent on world domination. (I don’t think that last part is far off of real history.) I am no history buff, but my limited knowledge of WWI and WWII were enough to have a grand time with some of the ways Correia plays with unfolding events.

Now, I described Correia’s signatures above—what you expect is present, but it still feels good, and the new setting provides new toys and set pieces that keep things feeling fresh. It’s familiar enough and fresh enough.

So, what’s really new that you get in this book, but not another Correia book?

Turns out, the name: Hard Magic. I’ve complained about magic being really squishily defined and understood in previous Correia novels, which mostly becomes an issue when magic is used to solve plot problems. That is not an issue at all in Hard Magic. You are taught how the magic works, you are given a fairly clear understanding of the limits of each character involved, and you are given enough to work on that you can start to predict what could be done with magic. It’s not quite to the level of a Brandon Sanderson novel, but it’s more than enough to keep things quite satisfying when magic ends up being used as the main solution for big plot problems.

If I have one complaint about the novel, it’s that the resolution of this story justifies the actions of a group of bad guys.

Another way to put it: the shady, evil guys doing very evil, underhanded things were proven right, and the good guys would have failed without the shadowy actions of those specific evil guys. (You know the type: “The ends justify the means!” and “The lesser evil!” and all that nonsense.)

This is hard to describe in more detail without giving away key details, which I won’t do. Suffice to say, it left a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth. Nothing that ruined the taste of the book overall for me… But, well, to abandon the flavor more, Hard Magic ends up being decidedly more morally grey than other Correia novels.

There are some complicating factors here. Is it possible that one of the heroes was strong enough to defeat the Big Bad Evil Guy? Perhaps. Is it possible that the sneaky, underhanded, “ends justify the means” evil guys plot would have failed without the intervention of the heroes (and their attempts to foil it, ironically)? Yeah. Do the good guys still win? Technically.

Would the plot have resolved itself without the intervention of the good guys? Also possible.

Mostly I think improper expectations on my part are what negatively colored parts of the conclusion of Hard Magic for me. Your experience will probably be better with what you now know, I imagine.

Writing Updates

Halfwhisker is at 197,000 words, roughly. About a 5,000-word increase from last week, which is my preferred minimum, and also pretty good movement considering all the barriers I’ve had between me and my writing time. I’m still imagining the first draft of this story will be finished at about 225,000 words.

The Visions of the Future article, on the other hand, moved from about 500 words to about 1,300 words. For some reason I think 4,000 words is the finish line for this story, so we’ll set that as a loose goal.

Send-off

Are you aware of any author “signatures” that have particularly stood out to you? I’d be curious to hear about them. Leave a comment below!