CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE SCIENCE CENTRE KIND

All shots are from POV of alien—half-height, maybe a manipulating device of some kind just visible in the lower part of the frame (i.e., Dalek POV in a Doctor Who episode).

1. INTERIOR: SPACECRAFT

We see the control panel of the spaceship of Imperial Scout Arkos 496, an alien. (Oddly, this control panel looks a great deal like the control panel of the Cable Regina master control.) We hear, with appropriate sound effects . . .

ARKOS

This is the Personal Log of Imperial Scout Arkos 496. I’m on my final descent to Earth. The target is in sight. I will land on the large flat surface next to it. Contact in five…four…three…two…one…

We hear an immense splashing noise. The lights flicker and go out, and we hear a glub-glub noise. Over black we hear…

ARKOS

Oops.

2. EXTERIOR: WASCANA LAKE SHORELINE

We hear the ARKOS’s inarticulate disgruntled muttering as we rise, water streaming down in front of us, out of Wascana Lake. Pan from side to side; lock onto Saskatchewan Science Centre.

ARKOS

Target located. Proceeding.

We begin to move forward. Ominous background music.

3. INTERIOR: POWERHOUSE ENTRANCE

We advance through the automatic doors; stop, back up, make them swing open again, then proceed in.

ARKOS

Now why didn’t we think of that?

We advance to the ticket counter, where VISITOR SERVICES CLERK reacts calmly.

VISITOR SERVICES CLERK

Can I help you?

ARKOS

Take me to your leader.

VSC

Sure! Uh—what’s that little robot thing floating over your head?

ARKOS

This is my Questioning, Independent Reaper of Knowledge—QUIRK, for short. During my visit he will be roaming your building and transmitting the images he records directly to me.

VSC

You don’t say? Just a second, kid.

VSC talks on phone as we hear…

ARKOS

Personal log: It appears human eyesight is poor. They have mistaken me for an immature member of a species of herd animal. No matter: I am about to meet their leader.

VSC

Our leader will be with you in a moment.

4. INTERIOR: FEATURE EXHIBIT

STEPHEN shakes manipulator device gingerly.

STEPHEN

How do you do? I’m Stephen Hall, Executive Director of the Saskatchewan Science Centre.

ARKOS

Greetings, Exalted One! I am Arkos 496, a humble scout in the service of the Mighty Emperor Ugwump the Incredible. I come on a mission of great importance.

STEPHEN

Well, then, maybe we should go somewhere where we could talk sitting down . . .

ARKOS

I am not physically equipped for that action. This location is adequate.

STEPHEN

OK, fine. Well, Mr. 496—

ARKOS

Please, call me Arkos.

STEPHEN

Arkos. What can I do for you?

ARKOS

Our world is in serious trouble. Our people have lost all interest in science and technology. They think it is too hard. They think it is too boring. As a result, we no longer have enough scientists or engineers. Our children all want to be professional slime-wrestlers when they grow up. His Imperial Majesty fears our civilization will crumble if we do not get professional help. So we have come to you. We have heard that here in the Saskatchewan Science Centre you have found a way to make people appreciate science. We must know your secret.

STEPHEN gives a three or four-minute monologue on what the Science Centre is, how it came about, the philosophy of Science Centre exhibits and how they’re created, and the future of the Science Centre.

During this, QUIRK begins exploring the exhibit floor . . .

ARKOS

This is very interesting. May I see more of your Powerhouse of Discovery?

STEPHEN

Of course. (Calls.) Ed! Just the man I’m looking for! (To ARKOS.) Edward Willett is our Communications Officer. He’ll give you the grand tour.

(Enter Ed.)

ED

You called—oh! (To ARKOS, holding up famous Vulcan greeting.) Uh—peace! Live long and prosper!

ARKOS

What?

STEPHEN

Ed, I’d like you meet Arkos 469. I’ve told him you’ll give him a complete behind-the-scenes tour of the Science Centre.

ED

Uh…right. OK. Fine. Why don’t we start with exhibit design and production? Stephen, if you’ll come along for this first part, too, since you’re in charge of area…right this way, Mr. 469.

ARKOS

Please. Call me Arkos.

We follow Ed toward the elevator and hear…

ARKOS

Personal log: These humans have no sense of propriety. We’ve only just met, and already I’m just a number to them. At home you have to know someone for weeks before your comfortable calling them by their number.

5. INTERIOR: DESIGN DEPARTMENT

ED

This is the design department, and these are our designers. They determine how an exhibit is going to look.

DAVID YEE

Hey, man, I love your colour scheme! I’ve never seen anybody put orange, purple and green together quite so…boldly.

STEPHEN gives a quick tour of the department and explains what happens there.

6. INTERIOR: PRODUCTION SHOP

We pass through the connecting door between Graphics and Production…

STEPHEN

And through this door is the production department, where we actually build exhibits. We have complete metalworking and woodworking facilities, and an electronics workshop.

Shots of cabinetmakers at work, and a peek into ROB FULLER’s workshop, where ARKOS gets sentimental over the pile of old equipment.

ARKOS

Awww…that’s just the way my pet robot Sparkums looked after the isotope delivery truck ran over him when I was an eggling.

At the end of this STEPHEN makes his exit.

7. INTERIOR: LAUNCH PAD (BY ELEVATOR)

ARKOS

This is all very interesting, but I don’t see how these things you build can be enough by themselves to interest people in science.

ED

Oh, but there’s a lot more than just inanimate exhibits. There are also programs.

ARKOS

Ah! Artificial intelligences!

ED

No, people programs. Come on, I’ll show you.

Strides off toward elevator, leaving ARKOS behind. Pauses and looks back.

Well?

ARKOS

I’m coming, I’m coming.

We move after the impatient ED.

Personal log: These aliens grow to ridiculous heights and have very long legs. I suspect genetic engineering. Warn the Interstellar Olympic Committee not to invite them to the games next millennium.

8. INTERIOR: DISCOVERY LAB

ED

Arkos, this is Kathryn Dotson, our Programming Director. Kathryn, this is Arkos 496.

KATHRYN

Hello, Mr. 496.

ARKOS

Please, call me Arkos.

KATHRYN: Three or four minutes on how programs are designed and implemented and what we try to accomplish with them, who our demonstrators and volunteers are and what they do, where our visiting exhibits come from and what kinds of exhibits they are. Might mention the problem of exhibit maintenance, too.

QUIRK continues to roam the exhibits while she’s talking…

ARKOS

All of this is wonderful, but how do you let people know about these programs? Is it through telepathy?

ED

No, it’s through sales and marketing.

ARKOS

I do not understand.

ED

Well, then, you’d better talk to . . .

9. INTERIOR: THIRD FLOOR, OVERLOOKING MAIN EXHIBIT AREA

ED

…Pat Brandino, our Sales and Marketing Director. Pat, this is Arkos 469.

PAT

Pleased to meet you, Mr. 469.

ARKOS

Please, call me Arkos.

PAT BRANDINO:

Three to four minutes on how we get the message of what we’re about and what we’re trying to accomplish out to the public; how we try to get the most “bang for the buck” through joint promotions, etc., the great interest media outlets have shown being involved with us.

QUIRK is still exploring…

10. INTERIOR: STAIRS BETWEEN THIRD & SECOND FLOORS

ARKOS

Very interesting—though I would still recommend telepathy. It costs far fewer fegwips.

ED

Fegwips?

ARKOS

Rodent-like creatures with ten legs. Our medium of exchange.

ED

I’d hate to be your banker…

ARKOS

Do you not have something similar?

ED

Uh, sort of. Our medium of exchange is called money. Fortunately, we have someone who raises it.

ARKOS

Ah! Like our fegwip-breeders at home.

ED

If only it were that simple…

11. INTERIOR: IN FRONT OF BUBBLE AREA

ED

Diana Choban is our fegwip-breeder—I mean, our development officer. Diana, this is Arkos 469.

DIANA

Pleased to meet you, Mr. 46 —

ED

Please, call him Arkos.

DIANA CHOBAN: Three to four minutes about how we’re funded and how we go about gathering the funds we need to continue providing the service we provide—talk about exhibit sponsorships, special campaigns, etc.

QUIRK explores such things as donor wall, various signs for exhibit sponsorships, the skeleton & periodic table…

ARKOS

It sounds very difficult. I will make a note to have His Imperial Majesty send your Mr. Hall a breeding pair of fegwips, instead.

DIANA

Thank you so much.

ED

There is one other way we make some money.

ARKOS

And what is that?

ED

It’s called the Kramer IMAX Theatre. Walk this way.

ED strides toward the theatre, leaving ARKOS behind again.

ARKOS

Personal log: Walk that way? Not without a lot of mutating . . .

12. INTERIOR: KRAMER IMAX THEATRE

ARKOS

That is a very large blank surface.

ED

It’s called a screen. We show moving pictures on it.

ARKOS

Ah, yes. What you call television. We have intercepted your transmissions. I particularly like Hee Haw…

ED

Uh, no, it’s not exactly television. It’s—well, you’d better talk to Don Copeman, our IMAX theatre manager. This way!

13. INTERIOR: IMAX THEATRE LOBBY

ED

Don, this is Arkos 469—and don’t call him Mr. 469. Arkos, this is Don Copeman. You can call him whatever you like.

ARKOS

Hello, Whatever-You-Like!

DON COPEMAN: Three to four minutes on IMAX, what it is, how films are selected, what kind of films we’ll see, and how it benefits the Science Centre as a whole.

QUIRK roams the IMAX…

14. INTERIOR: IMAX PROJECTION ROOM

ARKOS

This must be a very powerful weapon.

ED

It’s the IMAX projector.

ARKOS

A powerful projectile weapon?

ED

No, all it projects is light.

ARKOS

Ah! A powerful laser weapon.

ED

No! This is what projects the images on that big screen down there…

ARKOS

Oh…how?

ED

Just watch…

Visuals of the projector being loaded, or in operation, or something.

15. INTERIOR: IMAX THEATRE LOBBY NEAR CHECKPOINT CHARLIE

ED

Well, you’ll have a lot to tell your Emperor, won’t you?

ARKOS

If I am able to.

ED

What do you mean?

ARKOS

I have inadvertently landed in the large body of dihydrogen oxide adjacent to this structure. A critical component requires a large charge of static electricity in order for me to be able to retrieve my ship and take off again. At present I have no way of obtaining that charge —

ED

Wanna bet?

ARKOS

I fail to see what function gambling would serve at this juncture—

ED

Just follow me.

We move away toward the Powerhouse…

16. INTERIOR: POWERHOUSE – COCA COLA STAGE

We approach the Van Der Graaff Static Electricity Generator.

ARKOS

Greetings, robot! What is your function?

ED

It’s not a robot. And its function is to generate static electricity.

ARKOS

Indeed?

ED

Sure. Watch!

We watch a kid get his/her hair stood on end. ARKOS is overjoyed.

ARKOS

I am indeed fortunate! Wait while I position myself…

We move closer to the generator, and we see a nice fat electrical spark jumping from the generator to the grounding rod, which can double as ARKOS’s broken device.

ED

(Looking at watch impatiently.) Now can you leave?

ARKOS

Not yet! First I must gather images for transmittal to His Majesty! QUIRK!

Series of quick images from around the Powerhouse and IMAX.

17. EXTERIOR: IN FRONT OF THE POWERHOUSE

ARKOS

I thank you for your help. The Saskatchewan Science Centre may very well have saved our entire civilization.

ED

All in a day’s work. Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Arkos—

ARKOS

Please, call me 496.

ED

Uh—sure. Whatever you say, 496. And, uh—QUIRK, was it? Have a safe trip home, and if you’re ever in the nieghborhood again, be sure to drop by.

ED waves and goes back into the Powerhouse.

ARKOS

Don’t worry—we will.

We move toward the lake…

18. INTERIOR: SPACESHIP

We see the control panel again.

ARKOS

Personal Log of Imperial Scout Arkos 496. Am preparing for takeoff from Earth. Mission accomplished. Launching—now.

The manipulator touches a button or lever. We hear splashing sounds, then rocket noises, and over it…

ARKOS

Feldercarb! I forgot to buy a T-shirt.

Music swells.

FADE OUT

Aside from those keeners who have set up combination desks/treadmills (Arthur Slade, I’m looking at you), a poor choice for those of us who cannot walk and chew gum at the same time, much less walk and type at the same time, most writers do little but sit on their rear ends and tap on a keyboard.

It was therefore with great interest that I read a press release describing a study just published in Psychological Science, a journal of the Association for Psychological Science, which indicates that one key to losing weight might be, not physical exercise, but a writing exercise.

The study was conducted by Christine Logel of Renison University College at the University of Waterloo and Geoffrey L. Cohen of Stanford University.

The researchers recruited 45 female undergraduates who had a body mass index of 23 or higher. A BMI within the range of 18.5 to 24.9 is considered normal weight; a little more than half of the women (58 percent) fell outside that range and thus would be considered overweight or obese.

Each woman was weighed, and then provided with a list of important values: i.e., creativity, politics, music, and relationships with friends and family members. Each woman was asked to rank the values in the order of how important they were to her.

With that established, half the women were told to write for 15 minutes about whichever value they had ranked most important, while the other half (the control group) were told to write about why a value they personally ranked low might be valuable to someone else.

Between one and four months later, the women came back to be weighed again, and, rather astoundingly, the women who had written about an important value had lost an average of 3.41 pounds, while the women in the control group had (as is typical of undergraduates at university) gained an average of 2.75 pounds.

Why? Well, Logel’s theory is that the women who wrote about values that were important to them felt better about themselves, and that led to better habits: perhaps writing about an important value made a particular woman feel so good that she went home and, for once, didn’t snack; and that, in turn, helped derail a snacking habit that had been contributing to her weight gain.

The results tie in with previous studies that have found that thinking about values, even briefly, can have a big effect. For example, Cohen has used the same technique with minority seventh-graders who were underperforming relative to their white peers. The results: those who did the exercise continued to perform better for years thereafter.

“We have this need to feel self-integrity,” Logel is quoted as saying. “We can buffer that self-integrity by reminding ourselves how much we love our children, for example.”

So does that mean the key to losing weight is as simple as writing about something you value, once, for just 15 minutes?

Naturally, the researchers urge caution, and say it’s too soon to tell. They point out that the women in the study didn’t know that writing about values was supposed to help them live healthier, although they may have twigged, since most psychological studies don’t require a weigh-in.

Logel herself, however, is a firm believer in the benefit of focusing on things of value. She carries a keychain that reminds her of one of her own important values (although the press release doesn’t say exactly what it is, personally, not forgetting my keys is something I value).

And, Logel says, the ultimate goal of all her research along these lines is to find out what people can do to deliberately benefit from this fascinating effect.

In the meantime, she says, “There’s certainly no harm in taking time to reflect on important values and working activities you value in your daily life.”

Personally, I just like the idea of a writing exercise to help you lose weight.

It sure beats that other kind of exercise…although somehow I suspect the panting-and-sweating kind would still be a good idea, too.

At the Mackenzie Art Gallery, the “vaults” (that’s a picture of them at the left) are where they keep the permanent collection, most of which is not on display at any given time. Here at edwardwillett.com, the vaults are the file folders on my computer, or the file folders in my filing cabinet, that have filled up with odds and ends and stuff over the years: bits of poetry, poems, unpublished short stories, unfinished novels, old newspaper columns, etc., etc. Some of it dates back thirty years…or more.

Every Saturday, I’m going to pull something out of the vaults and post it…just because.

And we start with…a poem.

As writer-in-residence I always warn poets who come to see me that I don’t write poetry.

Now you’ll know why.

###

There’s A Puppy in My Pocket

There’s a puppy in my pocket
And a kitten in my coat.
I’m not sure what’s in my Stetson,
But it may well be a stoat.

My shoes are full of shellfish
And my socks are full of squid,
And the turtle in my top-hat
Is about to flip its lid.

My jewelry box has June bugs
And my dresser’s full of things–
Not the shirts and shorts that I wear–
No, it’s full of things with wings.

I wake up quite sore each morning
‘Cause my mattress has a lump:
But it could be worse. At least that camel’s
Only got one hump.

A hyena ate my hair brush
And a cheetah chewed my chair,
And a fate too horrid to relate
Befell my underwear.

I still love my little bedroom,
And I think that you would too.
But I sometimes really wish it didn’t
Overlook the zoo.

Chane combines some steampunk sensibilities with a magic world, infuses the whole thing with some potent political plotting, and presents the result – a fantastic novel.

And finishes…

Ultimately, a highly satisfying novel. I’d love to see something further in the world that Chane has created…

Read the whole thing.

Review Room has some quibbles, but still says:

I found the book quite appealing because it pitted science against magic, and couldn’t help being drawn in by the detailed descriptions of this alternate magical reality – it’s spells, it’s inventions and it’s different life. Commoners have achieved through science which the MageLords do via Magic. Against this backdrop Chane has created well-fleshed out characters. He gives the reader a look-see into their minds, which was quite interesting. The story has many twists and turns and is quite unpredictable so it keeps one engaged and reading.

Read the whole thing.

Interestingly, both reviewers (and some previous ones) note they’d be interested in seeing more of the world of Magebane. So would I! Which is why I have proposed a sequel. Still waiting for word on it from DAW, though, so…cross your fingers for me!

These days, though, the word “book” has developed two meanings. You can still read a bound-stack-of-paper book, but you can also read a book without ever touching anything that was once part of a tree, because the text has become divorced from the physical artifact to which it was once bound, thanks to the development of electronic reading devices.

I will admit up front that I was an early convert to electronic reading. I bought my first ebook reader many years ago, before hardly anyone had such a device. These days, I read on my iPhone and my iPad. My 10-year-old daughter owns a Kobo.

Ebooks are becoming more and more popular, but there are still those who swear up and down that they will never read from an electronic screen, that the only way they will give up paper books is when they are pried from their cold, dead hands.

Despite such passion on the printed-book side, ebook sales continue to soar, and ebook readers are becoming better, cheaper, and more ubiquitious. How can a lover of text-on-dead-trees continue to defend his/her choice?

Science may offer some ammunition in the ongoing debate. For instance, a study conducted last year by Jacob Nielsen of the Nielsen Norman Group, a California-based usability consulting firm, tested three different ways to read e-books–on the PC, the Kindle 2, and the iPad–against the reading of paper books. Nielsen found that those reading any of the ebook versions were as much as 10 percent slower than those reading the printed versions. (Reading on the PC was the slowest—and least popular—of all.)

Then there was the University of Washington report this spring on a pilot project in which computer science students used a Kindle DX (the largest version) for their course reading. College textbooks in ebook form would be cheaper for students, and much easier to lug around, so they are generally seen as a kind of “holy grail” of the ebook industry…but alas, seven months into the pilot project, more than 60 percent of students had stopped using their Kindle for academic reading. Those who kept using them tucked paper into the case in order to write notes (even though you can take electronic notes on the Kindle). Others would read near a computer they could use for reference and other tasks the device didn’t make easy.

And then there was this particularly interesting study tidbit, as given in the press release: “The digital text also disrupted a technique called cognitive mapping, in which readers used physical cues, such as the location on the page and the position in the book, to find a section of text or even to help retain and recall the information they had read.”

So, text-on-paper-holdouts, science is on your side, right?

Well, not so fast. This week another study emerged from Johannes Gutenberg University in Mainz that, according to the lead researcher, Professor Dr. Stephan Füssel, provides a scientific basis “for dispelling the widespread misconception that reading from a screen has negative effects.”

In this study, participants in two sample groups, young adults and elderly adults, read various texts with various degrees of complexity on an ebook reader (Kindle 3), a tablet PC (iPad) and on paper. Their reading behavior and neural activity were assessed by tracking eye movements and through EEGs, and through questionnaires to measure text comprehension and information recall.

The results? Although readers almost universally stated they liked reading printed books best, there was no difference in terms of reading performance between reading from paper and from the Kindle. And when it came to the iPad, older readers actually exhibited faster reading times when using it. Not only that, the data indicated that information was processed more easily when it was read from the tablet.

So where does that leave us? Right back where we started: with personal preference. If you’re only willing to read text printed on bound paper, then by all means stick with printed books. If you’re comfortable reading on a screen, you have a plethora of possibilities.

As a writer, I think I speak for everyone who makes their living with words: we don’t care how you read, we just care that you read. So read, already!

Oh, wait…if you made it this far, I guess you just did.

(The photo: a box full of print copies of Magebane, my latest novel.)

***

Hi, my name is Ed, and I’m a writer.

I’ve written around 50 books of one sort or other, from science fiction and fantasy novels to science books, computer books and history books, for children, young adults and adults.

But I didn’t start out as a writer. I started out as a reader.

My parents loved to read, and I had two older brothers who also read a lot, so our house was always full of books. I remember practicing my reading with my mother by reading out loud to her. Since it was the King James Version of the Bible, I didn’t always have a clue what I was reading, but at least I was figuring out how to sound out words.

What really captured my interest, though, was science fiction and fantasy. Again, I blame my brothers. That was what they read, and of course I wanted to be like them, so that was what I read. One of the earliest novels I can remember reading was Revolt on Alpha C, by Robert Silverberg. It had starships and ray guns and all kinds of other science fictional goodness. I was a nine-year-old boy. How could I not be hooked?

But I didn’t just read science fiction and fantasy. I read everything, voraciously. History books and adventure books, horse books and dog books, classics and not-so-classics.  In school I became known as the kid that was always raising his hand and class and then saying, “I read somewhere that…”

Because I read, I occasionally knew more about a subject than my teachers. (Sorry, teachers, but that is a hazard of teaching kids to read.) For example, I loved a series of English children books called Swallows and Amazons, which are all about kids sailing. I knew from those books that the “sheet” on a sailing boat is actually a rope that controls the angle of the sail. I had a teacher that told the class that the “sheet” was the sail. Naturally, I couldn’t let that stand, and the discussion grew…a little heated. But I’m sure, upon reflection, once she realized she was wrong and I was right, she appreciated my ten-year-old self for setting her straight. Although I admit she didn’t say so at the time.

Books transported me to places I could never have gone, real places, imaginary places, might-have-been places and might-yet-be places. They taught me about  airplanes, aardvarks, auto racing, astronauts and apples–and that was just the A’s.

And somewhere along in there, because I loved reading, I got the notion I’d like to tell my own stories. One reason was that I sometimes couldn’t find the kinds of stories I really enjoyed reading. (You, oh most fortunate children, live in the Golden Age of fantasy and science fiction for children and adults; in my day such books were few and far between.) I thought, well, maybe I should just create my own. But I didn’t want to write just for myself. I wanted to write for readers: I wanted to tell stories that readers would enjoy as much as I enjoyed the books I loved.

And so, when I was 11 years old, I wrote my first short story, “Kastra Glazz: Hypership Test Pilot.” And my Grade 7 English teacher in Weyburn, Tony Tunbridge, did me the great courtesy of taking it seriously: he critiqued it, and didn’t just tell me that it was wonderful (which, in retrospect, it really wasn’t), he told me how I could make it better.

I’ve been writing stories ever since. I wrote three novels in high school (and passed them around for my classmates to read: rather brave of me, I think now), and kept writing them until, finally, I started getting them published.

But you know what? I still read. More than ever. Books, blogs, magazine articles, newspaper stories…I can’t sit still for more than a few minutes without needing something to read.

Reading led me to be a writer. Reading has led others to be doctors, engineers, scientists, architects, artists, actors. Reading opens up all worlds and all possibilities. It’s the foundation of learning, and believe me, you never stop needing to learn. I’m a bit older than any of you–just a bit–and haven’t been in school for a very long time, but I learn something new every single day, thanks to reading.

That’s the meat and potatoes of why it’s important to read. But here’s the dessert: reading is fun. Not only that, it’s fun that costs nothing, doesn’t pollute, rarely results in injury, usually won’t get you in trouble, and earns you brownie points with parents and teachers. What’s not to like?

Also, as a writer, I really NEED readers. Because otherwise, what’s the point?

So I urge you, as personal favour to me, if for no other reason: go forth and read!

It should come as no surprise to anyone reading this column that I write fiction in addition to non-fiction: specifically, science fiction and fantasy for both adults and young adults.

Which is why Ben Zimmer’s recent article in The New York Times’s Sunday Book Review, describing the findings of lexicographers using modern computer databases and data-crunching software to uncover some fascinating things about the use of language in fiction, caught my attention.

One such computer-based tool is the Corpus of Contemporary American English (COCA), which you can explore online here . Compiled by Mark Davis at Brigham Young University, COCA contains 425 million words of text from popular magazines, newspapers, academic texts, transcripts of spoken English, short stories, plays in literary magazines, and the first chapters of hundreds of novels from major publishers, all published within the past twenty years.

You can search not only for individual words but for parts of speech. Zimmer gives as an example a search for past-tense verbs. COCA reveals that, as you’d expect, the most common examples are the simplest: “said,” “came,” “got,” etc. There’s not much difference between fiction and non-fiction in that regard.

But, notes Zimmer, if you ask COCA which past-tense verbs show up more frequently in fiction than in, say, academic prose, you get some interesting results. The top five are “grimaced,” “scowled,” “grunted,” “wiggled” and “gritted.” Or, as Zimmer puts it, “Sour facial expressions, gruff noises and emphatic body movements (wiggling fingers and gritting teeth) would seem to rule the verbs peculiar to today’s published fiction.”

Another way to use these databases of published text is to search for combinations of words, called “collocations.”  Apparently these are of particular interest to the people who make dictionaries for those learning English as a second language: combinations of words can be key to understanding some of the language’s idiosyncrasies.

Lexicographer Orin Hargraves, while working with the Oxford English Corpus, containing about two billion words of 21st-century English, discovered a number of collocations that appear almost solely in fiction.

For instance, he found that although the combination of “brush” and “teeth” was common in all kinds of writing, in fiction, “brush” appeared with words like “hair,” “strand,” “lock” and “lip” up to 150 times more frequently than in non-fiction

Or, as Hargraves puts it, “fictional characters cannot stop playing with their hair.”

Other collocations that Hargraves’s research turned up almost exclusively in fiction were “bolting upright” and “drawing one’s breath.” Zimmer suggests, and I think he’s right, that creative writers use these phrases because they are looking for ways to portray emotional responses through physical action.

They get used in book after book, though, because they are part of the contemporary vocabulary of written fiction. In Zimmer’s words, “the conventions of modern storytelling dictate that fictional characters react to their worlds in certain stock ways and that the storytellers use stock expressions to describe those reactions.”

Individual writers have their own quirks, of course, which they may or may not be aware of.  (My characters tend to “growl” a lot if I don’t watch them closely). Zimmer notes that Dan Brown (author of The Da Vinci Code) seems to be “partial to eyebrows,” with characters in his book Digital Fortress arching or raising them no fewer than 14 times.

Zimmer’s overall point:  modern fiction may not be written in a self-consciously “literary style” as fiction once was, but that doesn’t mean that there are no conventions.

“When we see a character in contemporary fiction ‘bolt upright’ or ‘draw a breath’,” he says, we’re “picking up the subtle cues that telegraph a literary style,” that provide “a kind of comfortable linguistic furniture to settle into as we read a novel or short story.”

“Literature did not suddenly become unliterary because the prose was no longer so high-flying,” he concludes. “Rather, the textual hints of literariness continue to wash over us unannounced, even as a new kind of brainpower, the computational kind, can help identify exactly what those hints are and how they function.”

It’s all very interesting to a writer like me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a character whose hair needs attention.

(The photo: Alice, reading.)

Here’s the “high-concept” description from my proposal:

In a tyrannical land where obedience is ensured by magical Masks that all must wear, a renegade girl must learn to harness her own magical abilities to defeat oppression at home and invasion from outside.

And, just for fun, here’s the opening (as it stands now):

A week before her thirteenth birthday and her Masking, Mara sat on the city wall, bare legs dangling into space, and looked down past her dirty toes at the crowds milling around in the Outside Market.

From forty feet above, the brightly colored awnings of the vendors looked like a patchwork quilt, seamed with moving rivers of humanity. Masks of white, silver, red and blue glittered in the late-day sun, jewel-like beneath the elaborate headpieces favored by City women, in stark contrast to the unadorned hair of the country folk. If they wear a headscarf above their Masks they think they’re a poppinjay, Mara thought scornfully.

Mara herself was a City girl through and through. She couldn’t imagine living in the country, out in those green fields that stretched away from her toward the distant blue line of the ocean to the south, or in the forested hills that rose ridge by ridge toward the mountains to her right, the westering sun hanging just above their snow-capped peaks. What is there to do out there? she wondered. Play with cows? Dig holes?

She glanced over her shoulder into the city of Tamita, built in terraced ranks up the flanks of Fortress Hill. Directly behind her, Maskmakers’ Way, straight as an arrow, climbed through a series of stone steps all the way to the North Gate of the Autarch’s Palace, a vast many-towered pile of white stone, aflutter with blue and gold pennants. She could see the green tile roof of her own home up there on the final terrace before the long stair leading to the Palace. She could see her parents’ bedroom window. She wondered if her mother were looking out.

Dung, I hope not! She’d throw a fit if she saw me sitting up here, looking like this.

Now, here’s the fun part: since “Edward Willett” is a science fiction writer and “Lee Arthur Chane” writes adult fantasy and how well his book Magebane is going to sell is still an open question, Masks will be written by…someone else. Which means I need a second pseudonym. Nothing figured out yet, but it’s a lot of fun trying out various possibilities. I mean, how often do you get to name yourself from scratch?

Stay tuned!

It’s still a ways until April, but lo and behold, I discovered the book is already listed at Amazon. Go forth and pre-order!

You know you want to.

Here’s the title and byline from the title page. I love the little airship logo, which appears at the start of each chapter:

And here’s the inside-front-flap copy, a small excerpt from fairly early on in the book:

CLOSER AND CLOSER DREW THE WALL OF FOG.

Periodically Anton lit the burner to keep them at five thousand feet. Finally the Professor said, “I think it is time to ascend.”

Anton pulled back on the throttle. The flame roared, and the airship began to rise through the cold prairie air.

Five thousand . . . six thousand . . . seven . . . eight . . . up and up they went, and still they could not see over the Anomaly. At nine thousand feet their rate of ascent slowed, and the Professor, frowning again at the rock gas tank, said, “I believe we will release ballast, Anton. If you would open the tank?

“Yes, Professor.” Anton bent down and turned a knob protruding through the floor of the gondola at his feet. The airship lurched, then rose much faster than before.

Ten thousand feet. Eleven thousand. Twelve, and they were slowing again. They were almost to the wall of fog marking the Anomaly, and still it rose above them, an impossible cliff of white, swirling vapor. Was it his imagination, or could he feel the chill from it even through his warm leather flying gear?

The Professor peered up into the fog. “I think we need another two to three thousand feet,” he said, his voice grim but determined. “Release the sandbags, please, Anton.”

The ropes dropped from the side of the gondola, the sandbags slipping off them to plummet toward the prairie below. Suddenly, it felt like a giant had grabbed them and hurled them, spinning, into the sky. The world whirled through Anton’s vision, wall of fog, sunlit prairie, wall of fog, sunlit prairie. The spinning, mercifully, stopped, but hard on its heels came the unmistakable sound of tearing silk. . . .

So, whaddya think? If you read that as a teaser at the front of a book, would you buy it?