The Cassutt Files
You May Be a Sci-fi Writer

Not too long ago, I was asked to appear at a workshop for information technologists (engineers, academics, aerospace professionals) sponsored by a major space institution—my job title was "futurist."

Which made me uncomfortable.

Not as uncomfortable, perhaps, as the attendees at the workshop, whose eyes went wide when I outlined my "vision" of the year 2015 by saying, "As of now, every citizen of the United States has been a contestant on American Idol. There are more American soldiers in New Mexico and Arizona than in Iraq—serving as peacekeepers between cities fighting over water."

And so on. See what I mean? It was flip, possibly even funny, but it sure wasn't futurism as practiced by, say, Alvin Toffler.

I couldn't help it. It was what occurred to me as opposed to, say, predicting the gross national product or federal budget deficit for 2015, or mediating on Moore's Law and its effects.

Readers of last month's column will no doubt recall my statement that I never felt completely at home in the comic-book world. Well, you can take that and double it when it comes to sci-fi.

It's not just my intuition. When I first started attending conventions 20 years ago, one prominent editor narrowed his eyes in my direction and said, "What are you doing here?" Here being the sci-fi field.

At the time I had published half a dozen sci-fi stories and sold a genuine sci-fi novel. On the other hand, I had also sold non-sci-fi stories, a dozen magazine articles and my first few television scripts—which were actually for situation comedies! Which this editor knew, hence the question.

It's obviously been an issue for me, since I've not only remembered the question, I've brooded over it ... knowing in my heart that I am not a visionary like Arthur C. Clarke or a commentator on current trends like Bruce Sterling, just a guy who occasionally sees a story in some new technology or odd bit of astronomical lore.

It's time to settle the question once and for all, for myself and those of you who may be wondering the same thing: Am I truly a sci-fi writer? Hence this quiz.

Calculating your sci-fi credentials

Let's make this simple. Ten questions, ten potential points for each, for a maximum score of 100. Here we go:

1. Have you ever used a calculator when writing a script or story? (And not just, as Harry Harrison once noted, to add up the money still owed to you.) 10 points.

2. Do you subscribe to Science, Scientific American, Nature or any similar publication? (Cruising their online sites counts.) 10 points.

3. Have you taken college-level or post-high-school courses in any scientific or technical field. This includes biology, medicine and computer repair. 10 points.

4. Have you ever attended a technical or scientific conference? 10 points if by choice, 5 points if asked to appear on a panel by people who should have known better.

5. Have you used the word "interface" as a verb? 10 points, and you ought to be slapped.

6. Are you nostalgic about the Apollo program? 5 points. Add 5 points if you ever seriously considered applying to become an astronaut.

7. Have you ever enrolled in an organization promising a new paradigm such as technocracy or est, or in any group using the word "mental" or "power"? Religions that were organized prior to the year 1906 do not count. 10 points.

8. Do you know what a (or "the") Singularity is? 10 points—and please send me the explanation.

9. Your idea of a desert-island book is The Boy Scout Handbook (10 points), James Joyce's Ulysses (because you keep meaning to read it, 5 points), or a Power Mac (zero points, but I understand the feeling).

10. Do you reject the idea of surveys to begin with, because you cannot be categorized? 10 points.

Now to tabulate ...

A score of 66 or higher—You're a E.E. "Doc" Smith, Larry Niven, Greg Bear, Vernor Vinge, Charles Stross or Nancy Kress. Ideas come first for you, the stranger or more innovative the better. If you are a television series, you are Max Headroom, Star Trek: Voyager or Enterprise. This sort of storytelling, by the way, used to be known as science fiction, or "hard" science fiction.

35 to 65—You could be another Ursula K. Le Guin, Frank Herbert, Kim Stanley Robinson, Connie Willis or Vonda McIntyre. You are aware of science and technology, but given a choice, will try to emphasize character and drama. This sort of story used to be known as speculative fiction. If you are a television series, you might be the original Star Trek, X-Files or the current Battlestar Galactica.

34 and under—Now you are in territory staked out by Ray Bradbury, R.A. Lafferty, Roger Zelazny, Harlan Ellison. Your strength is style and mood. If you have a space vehicle in your story, it was an oversight—and it's called a "spaceship." Sometimes you get the science wrong—and you don't care. In television terms, you are (to chose a great example) Lost or (to chose a differently great example) Space: 1999. This used to be "sci-fi."

Labels can't be avoided

You may be wondering, why bother? Can't we all just be what we are? Who needs labels?

The commercial world, that's who. Go into a Borders or Bookstar ... there is a sci-fi category, but try to find the sci-fi books among the horror, heroic fantasy and media spinoffs. Where do you find space-related books? In astronomy. In autobiography. Should stores have a category? I'm not sure it would be good if they did. ...

But, in any case, they exist. Writers need to be secure in their categorization ... and readers and viewers should be confident in what they are reading or watching.

I don't like it. (I got 10 points on that last question.) But the universe has given me ample evidence that my feelings aren't often taken into account.

Oh, my score? 55, which puts me almost squarely in the middle. I guess I'm a sci-fi writer after all, but barely.