The problem with cursing and sex is not that they’re inherently bad.

Cursing and sex don’t bother me, personally - in fact, it amuses me how insensitive we Americans are to grotesque violence (which we’re unlikely to see in real life), and how freaked out we get about naked people (which we will see often, if we have lovers or spouses or little kids who want to run free). You can let your fifth grader read any of his books without worrying about age-inappropriate sex or cursing. It’s a trait I particularly admire about Isaac Asimov’s work, in addition to its clarity. I write science fiction that wouldn’t embarrass my kids or my grandmother. Now, however, I accept it, because I have a sense of who I am, as a writer. Since writing my trilogy (three novellas that add up to one long novel), I’ve found friends saying “he’s a science fiction writer.” At first I didn’t like this I’ve barely started producing, and didn’t want to be pigeon-holed. The job allows me to pursue art for its own sake.Įven so, I’ve found it natural that people want to identify me as a certain kind of writer. The truth is, I enjoy my work (I’m an instructional designer), and I particularly enjoy the steady paycheck and health insurance. I would like to enjoy a supplemental income from it, but I’m not planning on changing careers. For me, writing fiction is an avocation, not a vocation. I’ve written for money, of course - technical writing, marketing communications, corporate training - but that’s to pay the bills. I wasn’t approaching it in mercenary terms if I simply wanted to make money, I’d write supernatural romance. When I started writing my first novel in the autumn of 2012, I didn’t have a clear idea on who I wanted to be in the world of publishing.

300 Miles to Galveston by Rick Wiedeman