New Worlds: Political Patronage
The New Worlds Patreon is always ready to do a favor for a friend . . . so long as it gets one in return. To close out October, we’re looking at political patronage: comment over there!
The New Worlds Patreon is always ready to do a favor for a friend . . . so long as it gets one in return. To close out October, we’re looking at political patronage: comment over there!
This week the New Worlds Patreon is not talking about feudalism, because that’s an imprecise term for a confluence of concepts that’s falling out of use among historians anyway. It is, however, talking about part of what people usually think of when they hear the word “feudal,” which is the vassal relationship that structured a good deal of the upper class in medieval European society — comment over there!
Last week the New Worlds Patreon looked at citizens and subjects; this time around, it’s people who aren’t in those groups, but possibly want to join them. Comment over there!
One of these is a (mostly) happy thing, the other not at all.
The happier one first: Oghenechovwe Epeki is the first African editor to be nominated for a World Fantasy Award, and there’s a GoFundMe campaign underway to help get him to the con. (The slightly ungood aspect is that part of the fundraiser is to cover the unexpected costs incurred by visa and flight fuckery when he came to WorldCon for his Hugo Award nominations; more details at that link.) Jason Sanford, who’s running this campaign, has raised over three-quarters of the goal, but there’s still a bit to go!
The other, much less cheerful one is being run by Jim Hines on behalf of Lynne and Michael Thomas, the brilliant and much-lauded editors of Uncanny Magazine. Their daughter Caitlin suffers from Aicardi Syndrome, and she’s reached a point where there’s nothing doctors can really do but ease her passing. The campaign was set up to cover funeral expenses and to make it so that Lynne and Michael don’t have to worry about money in the final days of their daughter’s life or in the immediate aftermath; it has already blown enormously past its goal, a testament to the love and respect the SF/F community has for the Thomases, Caitlin included. But you can still contribute if you wish: money can’t ease their loss, but it can ease the burdens around it.
You may have noticed that I have no novels coming out this year. That is because 2021 was, through an accident of scheduling, the Year of Three Books . . . or rather I should say a Year of Three Books, because in 2023, I’m doing it again.
Yep, folks: in addition to Labyrinth’s Heart and The Game of 100 Candles, next year will also see the publication of the bastard child of my college thesis, a standalone Viking revenge epic called The Waking of Angantyr. Long-time readers may recall that I wrote a short story by the same name; the story is based on a very cool Old Norse poem, and the novel is based on me being terribly disappointed by the saga the poem is found in. 😛
I’ll post more about that later. For now, the thing to know is that the book will be coming out on October 10th of next year from Titan Books in the UK — I’ll also post more when I know for sure what the U.S. situation will be (that’s currently up in the air).
It’s going to be a busy year!
My faithful Topic Builders in the New Worlds Patreon have voted, and October will be a month for discussing political roles! The first one up is the similar, but subtly different, roles of “citizen” and “subject.” Comment over there!
The Absolute Sandman Vol. 1, Neil Gaiman. This volume covers the material contained in the Preludes and Nocturnes, The Doll’s House, and Dream Country collections, i.e. what was in the first season of the TV show (plus some bits that weren’t, like the issues “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” and “Façade”). I re-read it after watching the show, and I have to say, my overall reaction is that not only is the adaptation fairly good, I genuinely think it improves on the comic in places (particularly by connecting the Corinthian to Rose’s plot, and also what it did with Gault). But I was, admittedly, never a die-hard fan of The Sandman; I came to it late, never liked a lot of the art, and vastly preferred the parts of it that weren’t quite so ’90s horror-flavored.
Hand of the Trickster, Mike Reeves-McMillan. A novella bundled with some short fiction to make for a more substantial book. The novella is a fantasy heist with a protagonist who serves a trickster god; the worldbuilding around how the various deities work and fit together was quite interesting.
The Game of 100 Candles My own work doesn’t count. But hey, now I can finally talk about it publicly, instead of being coy!
The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, John Koenig. I think I would have loved a less sorrow-focused version of this, with invented words for a broader range of emotions; not everything in here is about sadness, but a decent percentage is various forms of anxiety or existential angst. As it stands, I wound up mostly reading this in small doses, between other books — I think it’s better-suited to that approach than to mainlining the whole thing in one go.
From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death, Caitlin Doughty, narr. by the author. The author is an American mortician who has a lot of problems with how the U.S. funeral industry has changed the way we handle death. The bulk of the book involves her traveling to other parts of the world, or to places in the U.S. with unusual setups (like open-air pyres or human composting), to see how they deal with both the body and the bereaved, reflecting on the huge variety of responses and what needs they serve — or don’t serve. It cemented my feeling that I don’t want anybody spending thousands of dollars on a coffin for me and showed me some of the issues around cremation, too; I honestly like the idea of a natural burial or even composting, if that’s a viable option by the time I shuffle off this mortal coil. (California, where I live, just legalized the practice.) The book is — naturally — a little gross here and there, because decay is a gross process, but it’s also deeply compassionate and also funny, and Doughty narrated the audiobook well.
The Airship: Its Design, History, Operation, and Future, Christopher Sprigg. It is sometimes hilarious to read old books about technology. This one is from 1931, and it is chock full of fantastic and accessible details about how airships work and the kinds of problems they can run into, and then it closes with a discussion of the future of airships that basically boils down to 1) pressure airships will soon be extinct (Reader, “pressure airship” = “blimp” and they are still around), 2) rigid airships will totally be the long-distance air transport of the future (this was six years before the Hindenburg disaster), and 3) literally nine pages laying out the logic for why airplanes almost certainly can’t ever be viable for transoceanic commercial travel. (Among other things, he mocks the predictions that because airplane speed has been improving rapidly as of 1931, by 1950 a plane will be able to go 700 mph. Reader, Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier — 767 mph — in 1947.) Obviously none of us are great at anticipating unforeseen developments in technology, by dint of them being unforeseen, but . . . still. His certainty is breathtaking to behold.
Rest: Why You Get More Done When You Work Less, Alex Soojung-Kim Pang, narr. Adam Sims. I was a bit leery of this book at the outset, because I think there’s a lot of value in challenging the idea that the best thing we can possibly do is become more productive, i.e. better little hamsters running on the wheel of capitalism. Fortunately, it turns out that Pang is far more concerned with “work” in the sense of “doing things that give our lives meaning,” and deeply critical of the way capitalism often actively hinders that, by valorizing busy-ness and overwork instead of giving us the time we need to reflect and deepen our understanding of the world. He discusses the value of things like shorter periods of work, daily naps, exercise (especially challenging exercise), hobbies (especially challenging hobbies), vacations, sabbaticals, and more; my one real gripe is that he really beats the drum of “it is best to wake up super-early and do your work right away!” That idea isn’t without merit — I readily grant that my late-night habits mean I don’t get the mental benefits of doing my work and then relaxing in ways that give my brain a chance to mull over what I just did — but he lumps that in with “deadline-motivated binges” and “waiting for inspiration to strike” in ways I somewhat resented, because that is not actually me. Apart from that, I slightly wish I’d read this in print instead of listening in audiobook only because in places I felt like he was bludgeoning me with more examples of his point than I really needed, but the audiobook was still good.
The Spirit Thief, Rachel Aaron. First of the Eli Monpress series. I’ve seen this talked about as a heist novel, but while it starts out with a bit of that, the main plot is really something quite different. The magic here led to some great narrative moments: literally everything has a spirit in it, there are different ways of getting them to work with you (e.g. forcible enslavement vs. voluntary contracts), and Eli works magic by . . . basically just making friends with everything in his surroundings, much to the bafflement of wizards who are busy going “but — but — you can’t just — you’re telling me the door/tree/rock/whatever just decided to do you a favor?” There are clear indications of a deeper plot, and since I read this as part of a three-book omnibus, I will have plenty of opportunity to find out more.
Eastern Heretics: An Anthology of Subverted Asian Folklore, ed. Amanda Lee Koe and Ng Yi-Sheng. After having enjoyed Ng’s collection Lion City, I hunted out this anthology — the title should make it obvious as to why! Alas, it was somewhat less congenial to me, as many of the stories were quite short and a lot of them were more literary in tone than I prefer. But I appreciated that it ranges all across Asia, including the western parts thereof, and there were some stories I very much enjoyed, chief among them Jason Erik Lundberg’s “Always a Risk,” which closes out the volume. That one retells the Chinese legend of the White Snake in a setting that’s . . . I dunno how to even describe it. Some kind of magical post-apocalyptic something or other that was very vivid and engaging.
If you do track down this anthology (which may be hard, depending on where you live; I had to order my copy from Singapore), be warned that the first story is kind of Trigger Warnings Ahoy, with the main character dreaming about the sexual assault of her children literally in the second sentence of the story. Me, I would not have had that be the first piece presented to the reader — not when the rest of the table of contents isn’t all of a similar tone — but here we are.
Eric, Terry Pratchett. Someone on my Discord mentioned Pratchett and thereby reminded me that there is still quite a lot of Discworld I haven’t read. This is not the best example thereof; having originally been an illustrated book, it’s very short, and there’s less meat on the bone than in some other installments. Still entertaining, though.
It’s a fifth Friday, which means the New Worlds Patreon pivots to a “theory essay”! We’re (semi-unexpectedly) continuing the “principles that can underlie magic” strand from the last one of these; comment over there.
Sharing on behalf of a friend, on the principle of “there’s a lot of anthropology in my fiction and so I probably have anthropologists among my fiction readers”:
The Department of Anthropology at Florida State University invites applications for full-time, tenure-track faculty positions in Biocultural Anthropology and Cultural Anthropology (TWO positions for that latter; three openings total). Email Jessi Halligan, jhalligan {at} fsu {dot}edu with questions or for more details.
And do feel free to spread the word elsewhere, if you know places it might be of interest!
To conclude our look at warfare (for now; it’s coming back in future months, never fear), the New Worlds Patreon takes a brief look at the most iconic type of armed clash, if not the most common sort: the direct engagement of armies in the field. Comment over there!
How sieges get fought is only one side of the story; the other side is what it’s like to endure one. This week the New Worlds Patreon takes a look at that aspect — comment over there!
My new tablets finally arrived, which means this project can move forward!
For those of y’all who aren’t weavers, though, let’s go over some basics first. There are lots of subtleties and refinements and differences depending on what kind of weaving you’re talking about, but at its core, weaving is about having threads pass over and under each other in order to make fabric.
In the kind of weaving I know how to do, here’s how you do that: first, you put the warp threads on your loom. These are long, each one forming a big loop. The weft thread is wrapped around your shuttle and passed back and forth at right angles to the warp threads. But for this to create fabric, it needs to go over some of the warps and under some of the others. Then, on the next pass, that needs to change — maybe not every thread (this is how more-than-binary patterns happen), but enough to get solid material out of it.
Very primitive looms require you to make that change manually, selecting each thread by hand. An inkle loom, though, achieves this by alternating leashed and unleashed threads. The unleashed ones move up and down freely, while the leashed ones are held in place by pieces called heddles. First you push the unleashed threads down below the leashed and pass the weft through; then you push them up to the top and pass it through again. Rinse and repeat. Looms are, in a basic sense, devices for 1) holding your warp threads while you work and 2) creating that shifting gap between them, which is called the shed.
On a card or tablet loom — like the kind I’m about to start using — it’s a little different. As you’ll see in a moment, all of the threads can move; they’re passed through the holes in the tablets, and by rotating those (collectively called a deck), you change which ones are above or below the shed. I’ll show how that works once I get started weaving . . . but Step One is to warp the loom.
Here’s the advantage of me having had to wait for my new tablets: it gave me time to think. Since I have the sort of brain that pre-games things, I realized that some of the memories I have of warping my inkle loom are not quite going to apply to this style of weaving.
The heddles I use on my inkle loom are just loops of string, hooked onto a peg, passed over the thread, and then hooked again. I can run the warp thread around the loom, pause to wrap a heddle over it if it’s supposed to be leashed, then keep going until I’m done warping that color for the time being, at which point I cut the thread and tie the whole thing off. Or if I’m just putting in, like, one or two threads of another color, I can wrap the one I was using around a peg, add the new color, then unwrap the previous one and keep going. Don’t worry if you don’t quite follow what I mean by that; the relevant point here is that I can just keep pulling thread off the skein for quite a while before cutting it. But on a card loom, the thread has to go through a hole. That’s not really going to work when what I’m holding is an entire skein!
Also, it was my habit in the past to go down first in warping: start at the front peg (you have to start there), run whatever course I’ve chosen along the bottom of the loom, then come over the top before I add the heddle, tie it off, etc. But since I need to pass the loose end of the thread through a hole in the card, and since the cards go at the top of the loom, it makes more sense to reverse my habitual course. That’s fine; it’s just going to feel weird. And then I’ll have to cut each thread off so I get a loose end again, rather than being able to warp continuously.
Which means this is going to be . . . a hassle.
Let’s get started!


One card down, lots of cards to go. As you can see, there are four threads passing through it, one per hole; you may also have noticed the edges of the card are color-coded. That’s because most of these will not have all four threads be identical, and once the cards start rotating, you need a way to keep track of which threads have gone where. Traditionally the holes are lettered A, B, C, D — which these lack — but it’s easier to see what you’ve got if you mark the edges; the ones I inherited from a friend (which do have the letters) had a highlighter run over them for that purpose.

I wasn’t paying close enough attention when I bought the new ones; they are tiny compared to the ones I got from my friend. I have no idea if I’ll wind up regretting that: they’ll probably be easier to turn (especially since they’re laminated), but the shed they create is much smaller. We’ll see.

That’s four cards warped, with the second color now showing up. We’re on our way!
Since I complained above about the inkle-weaving habits that don’t apply here, I should note one that does: I remembered, while waiting for the tablets, that it’s good to check the loom from the side before you finish tying off a thread, to make sure you didn’t accidentally pass over a peg you should have gone under or otherwise screw up the placement. For this enterprise to work, all the warp threads need to be the same length, running along the same path. I already caught one place I’d almost messed up, so that precaution is worth the effort.
My next update will come when I start weaving. How long will the rest of the warping take? Who knows! I am out of practice at this stuff; I will have to be much more meticulous to make sure I put the right colors in the right places and also in the right threading direction (because on some cards it will run front-to-back instead of back-to-front)*; and also I’m not young anymore, but warping is still most easily done on the floor, which my back starts to dislike after a while.
*Yyyyyeah, so, I warped two more tablets after scheduling this post and then figured out that I had a flaw in my draft, the fixing of which requires me to thread tablets 4-6 down instead of up. HOWEVER! Before I resigned myself to either cutting twelve threads off the loom or painstakingly untying them and redoing them no matter which method I chose, I realized that I could solve this problem with trivial ease by just flipping the cards around and rotating them a quarter-turn to put the single white thread each one of them contains back where it needs to be. If I were doing anything more complex than the pattern I have in mind, this would be a nightmare, because it messes up that color-coding thing: a quarter turn that will put the red on top for the cards with the correct facing will instead put the green on top for these. But since my plan involves rotating the whole deck together the entire time, with no fancy variations along the way, I can actually survive this. And it’s less annoying than redoing that whole bit.

Pictured: not a good idea. But I can make it work.
Anyway, we’ll find out as we go just how wide of a pattern I can actually warp onto here. The threads all have to stay on the pegs; it’s no good if they start slipping off because they’re too crowded. I can (and probably will) put rubber bands or, better yet, hair elastics on the ends of the pegs to protect against slippage, but still, there’s a limit to how wide a band I can weave. I think I’ll be okay, since I only want my final product to be about an inch wide, but the knots at the front add a lot of local width. I’ll just have to play it by ear.
Yes, the New Worlds Patreon is quoting The Princess Bride this week. (This is very on-brand for me.) We’re talking about siege warfare — comment over there!
I missed reporting on July, didn’t I?
Once again my loyal Topic Builders of the New Worlds Patreon have voted: for September, we’re turning back toward war! Specifically, the idea of there being different kinds of battles that aim to accomplish different purposes, with raiding first up on the list. Comment over there!
The New Worlds Patreon discussion of slavery wound up spreading across two months rather than the original plan of one, but it concludes at last with institutions that bear some resemblance to aspects of slavery. Comment over there!
Okay, we’re making a thing!
. . . how do we do that?
Step one is to figure out what I want this strap to look like. As I said before, card-weaving can do much more complex patterns than inkle-weaving — but it’s still limited by what you warp onto the loom, so you need to plan ahead. And there’s an extra twist (pun not intended, but very apropos), in that if your pattern doesn’t involve rotating the cards backwards as well as forwards, over time you’ll twist your unwoven warp threads into little ropes. Because I want to keep my first project simple, I went digging through different patterns both in my book and online, and settled on one that’s the tablet version of the “chain” pattern from inkle weaving — same idea, but (because of how card-weaving works) less tightly compressed.
This required me to generate a warping draft. Doing this for inkle-weaving is easy; you have only two kinds of thread (leashed and unleashed), so putting those on separate lines and using different letters to represent the different colors, a single chain pattern looks like this:

With a card loom, though, you need to plan four threads for each card. Furthermore, it matters whether the threads are warped “up” or “down” — that refers to the direction in which they pass through the card. I wound up making a spreadsheet with cells deliberately shaped to be taller than they are wide (to represent how the threads will look as they’re woven) and color-coded to imply the colors of the threads, and produced this draft:

The letters on the left tell me which hole in the card gets which thread, and the little v’s and carets tell me whether to warp up or down. To weave this, I will first rotate the cards forward four turns, then backward four turns, so I don’t wind up with twisted warps making life difficult at the end of the project. The nice thing about the spreadsheet is, I can copy-paste to make an expanded version that gives me a sense of what the final product will (hopefully) look like:

Now, there’s a key piece of guesswork going on here, which is the question of width. How wide your fabric is depends both on the number of threads and the thickness of those threads. Back in my inkle-weaving days, I was decent at eyeballing this . . . but that was a looooong time ago, and also I have zero experience with how this whole four-threads-per-card thing is going to work, with them twisting around each other and all.
Is this a reasonable number of cards for the project? I have no idea. The thread I bought is very fine, so I’ll definitely need more than with some of my projects of yore. But I am straight-up guessing with the draft you see there.
The good news is, I have some leeway to experiment. I don’t want to put a very short warp on the loom and just test-drive with a piece I’ll have to throw away (though it would probably be smart of me to do so), but I suspect my loom isn’t large enough for me to weave all the material I need in one go anyway. (Your material inevitably gets shorter as you weave it, because what were formerly straight warp threads are now going over and under the weft.) So I can weave this, and if it’s too skinny or too broad, I can use it for the “equatorial” straps that go sideways around the box. Then round 2 can be adjusted, and I’ll weave the big loop that will be the one I’m holding in my hand.
But this has introduced one wrinkle to the process. When I originally made my draft, it was narrower — an alternation of three-and-two on the chain, instead of five-and-four. I widened it upon receiving the thread and realizing how slender it was. Alas, I do not own enough cards for the wider draft; I have had to order more from Etsy. I’m waiting on those to arrive . . . and then the warping can begin!
Apropos of my earlier post — really, what I need are more environmentally friendly ways of doing the developmental stages. I had some very productive thinking time while showering, and more while driving to and from the city, but I can’t just do those things on a whim to make my brain work!
I genuinely think that my job got harder when I switched over to writing full-time, but not for the reasons that usually get cited: when I was in college, when I was in grad school, I spent a fair bit of my life walking to and from class. That was excellent thinking time. But these days . . . yes, I realize I could just go for walks. It isn’t the same, though? Walking just for the sake of walking feels like it’s me trying to hide the fact that I have scheduled this period for Thinking About the Book, which isn’t effective. It works better when I’m walking for some other purpose. Like errands — but a combination of pandemic + foot problems means I haven’t even done as much of that lately.
Maybe I should take up gardening. 😛
In all seriousness, one of the trickiest things about writing as a line of work is the part that doesn’t look recognizably like work.
I’m currently in progress on a background project, and I’ve had to accept that as much as I would like to be charging ahead and putting words down on the page, doing that right now stands a high chance of producing material I’ll just have to cut later. I need to think. I need to figure out plot beats that will be lively as opposed to merely getting the job done. I need to make sure I intend to stick with my current idea about how magic works in this setting, because I’ve already tweaked it once, and you know what’s not fun? Invalidating a chunk of narrative because things don’t work that way anymore.
This is necessary work — but it is also work that does not lend itself to metrics. It is the opposite of effective for me to set a timer and say, okay, for the next hour I am going to Think About the Book. Nor can I really set a goal where by the end of the week I need to have a clear sense of a particular character and how they’ll get involved with the plot. Trying to set that kind of goal is a really, really good way to make my brain freeze up and produce nothing at all.
And even when the ideation does happen . . . at what point am I allowed to kick back and say, okay, done for the day? I can set a baseline for drafting: for me it’s usually a minimum number of words, but for other people it’s a certain amount of time at the keyboard. Either way, when you hit your goal, you’re done. (If you want to or have to be. There are days when I hit that goal and keep going just because I’m on a roll; yesterday was one of those days.) Thinking, though . . . how do I decide that I’ve made enough intangible progress, and now it’s okay for me to slack off and watch TV? And even if the answer is that I should do more work, how do I do that when the best way for me to think is to be doing something else? Only certain kinds of something else count; TV isn’t a great one. Neither is reading or playing a game. Showering’s great, but we’re in a drought here, so I can’t just take three a day and see what happens.
I dunno. I’ve been doing this stuff for years and I still dunno. I have a good plot bit, though — something that will introduce a bit of action and set up some complications for my protagonist. I still don’t know much about one of the characters involved in it, which is bad because they’re supposed to be moderately important to this story . . . so I guess I have more thinking to do. Eventually.
Maybe tomorrow, when I’m in the car.
I have a whole pile of projects right now that I am either not permitted to discuss (as in, there’s an NDA and everything) or superstitious about discussing until they reach a firmer milestone. In one particular instance, this means I have not only drafted an entire novel but sent it to my editor, gotten comments in return, and sent back the revised manuscript, all without being able to say a word about what I was working on.
But as of today’s official announcement, that FINALLY changes!

The Game of 100 Candles is, as the title suggests, a sequel to The Night Parade of 100 Demons. It takes Ryōtora and Sekken to Phoenix Clan lands, and from the rural wilds of the mountains to the heart of a powerful provincial court — where more supernatural matters are afoot . . .
This will be out in February of next year!