Liberty and quiet power

Last week I was reading an SF book about a kick-ass female pilot out to save the universe.  At the same time I was reading blog posts about the quiet power of introverts in effective management, and at first the two ideas seemed to conflict.  Don't we need the kick-ass extrovert types to save the world?  Not necessarily.  Sometimes the tenacity of quiet power can achieve more.

To achieve the overthrow of a regime one needs intelligence, and to build a base of support for your alternative ideology.  If the regime is of the brutal type that tends to squash alternative modes of thought, this needs to be done very quietly and carefully.  And if you're planning on going behind enemy lines it helps if you don't draw attention to yourself.  The quiet power of the self-reliant introvert comes in very handy there,

I started thinking about instances of quiet power in the SF stories I love.  In Anne McCaffrey's All the Weyrs of Pern, the quiet  power is AIVAS, a rediscovered AI that teaches the descendants of the original colonists all the science they've forgotten since their ancestors landed on the planet 2,500 years ago.  With a combination of that knowledge, the use of the colonists' bioengineered dragons, and some handy left-over antimatter drives, they change their orbit of a planet.

I think also of the quiet power of CJ Cherryh's Pyanfar Chanur.  She's a tradeship captain who gets caught up in an interstellar, multi-species diplomatic incident.  It's her trading smarts and ability to quietly hide that help her to save her ship and defy a vicious race of aliens that threatens the destruction of her home world.

Even among military SF stories there are examples of quiet power.  In Elizabeth Moon's Vatta's War series Grace Vatta is an older woman who wields great power.  She's the Rector of Defence for her planet, and gets to order its Spaceforce around.

A mind-wiped teenager in Teri Terry's Slated series of books keeps her reawakening memories of her past secret while she quietly uncovers the truth of a totalitarian government and its evil schemes.  She watches, waits, gathers information, and when the time is right she destroys the evil system.

While kick-ass heroes create sound and fury and blow things up, the chances are that it's quiet power that figured out who the real enemy and real threats were.

Being inspired by others'stories

I often struggle with the thought that my SF isn't original enough, that there isn't any dazzling new tech in it, that what I'm doing is really recycling other writers' ideas.

This is a particular affliction of writers in the genre.  We read a review of a new book that praises that dazzling tech, and we remind ourselves that SF is called the literature of ideas.  And we worry that our ideas aren't good enough.

So it was a great relief to re-read Lisa Tuttle's How to Write Fantasy and SF book.  "New concepts are highly prized in our culture, but hard to come by" she writes.  Then she goes on to talk about the stories she's written that were inspired by other writers' work.

What a relief.  Here was a concept of SF as a genre in conversation with itself, borrowing ideas from other writers all the time.  I suppose I've always known that at a subliminal level, but to see it out in the open, and acknowledged as the source of some of a best selling authors' stories, was reassuring,

I've borrowed a few ideas for my novels.  Starfire was inspired by Elizabeth Moon's Vatta's war books, but I wanted my starship captain main character to stay a trader.  Eyemind was inspired by Anne McCaffrey's The Ship Who Searched, and her brainship became my Mind, controlling a powerful Supercruiser instead of a starship.

Starfire was also inspired by CJ Cherryh's The Pride of Chanur, and the strong character of the Hani captain Pyanfar Chanur.  In Starfire the Hani got recycled into my aliens, but they're friendly.  Ria Bihar, my Trader captain, eventually teams up with them to find something that has been stolen that affects the peace of both races.

I've realised there's nothing wrong with borrowing ideas from others' stories.  I'm currently working on planning a young adult series which will recycle ideas from Sarah Crossan's Breathe with my own focus on wildlife conservation.  I've also got EJ Swift's Osiris sitting there to read, and I suspect that her tale of the divided city will furnish more ideas for me to adapt.  

I'm thinking that perhaps I don't do enough borrowing sometimes.  I think I have to sit in my garret and come up with dazzling new ideas all on my own. But of course I don't.  Everything I write is built on the shoulders of those who came before me, and rather than fighting against this and trying to produce something 'original' I'd be far better off using others' stories as a launch pad for my own ideas.  I need to absorb the richness of those others visions and let them feed and inform my own,