The Diaries of an Aspiring Sci-Fi Writer

Greetings my brethren,

Another month has passed and I have been busy tending to the workarounds the Gatekeeper at Temple Dark Books recommended for my manuscript.* I’ve expanded plot lines but still need to restructure some of the narrative. It's challenging but enjoyable. If you told me, when I first started this madness all those years ago, that I would one day find writing enjoyable, I would have been sceptical. While I always found writing engaging, diverting and challenging, I have only recently come to really enjoy it. Writing is hard work. It demands concentration, time and energy at the expense of everything (and everyone) else. Writing does not share. It holds and drains you until, exsanguinated and with nothing left to scavenge, it finally releases you to reflect on your folly. One of my favourite authors, C.S. Forester, articulated this nicely when asked if he enjoyed writing:

"I would rather be in the dentist’s chair."

A bold statement when you consider this was the 1950s, when dentists weren’t exactly renowned for their sensitivity.

It’s also a discouraging one, for Forester really knew his business and had a stellar career that spanned the better part of fifty novels, including the Hornblower series. If he would sooner have his gnashers relocated with pliers and poker instead of sitting down to write, where does that leave a rank amateur such as I? And yet, despite his misgivings, I am enjoying the work.

I still bleed, of course. The writing gods demand their sacrifice and I will not break that concord. Today, I am writing to you from the reception of a hotel in Copenhagen. My wife very kindly organised a trip to this beautiful city to celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary. I have always found that travel enhances the mind and imagination. It takes us from our comfort zone and forces us to use our faculties. Arriving to a new city, inhabited by people who speak a different language, share different norms and cultures and regard you as an outsider is daunting enough. Now, as science fiction lovers, let us compare that to the prospect of meeting (voluntarily or not) an intelligent life-form from another race, planet or galaxy. How would discourse begin in such an eventuality?

‘Greetings Almighty One – please put the Death Ray down!’

How do we, as readers and writers of science fiction, regard the prospect of such an encounter?  I personally feel that any race that did not want to harvest our planet would recognise our immaturity, keep their distance and give us another few millennia to get our act together.

But as I gaze out the window of my hotel, down one of the wide boulevards of this amazing city, I am again struck at what we are capable of. Perhaps I should have more faith. Writing is, after all, a religion. We sit at a keyboard and expose our thoughts and dreams to critique and ridicule. It is an act of humility, rather like prayer. Perhaps that is why we do it. Writing certainly answers no practical need or requirement, and yet, it consumes us, fulfilling a necessity that transcends the physical. It’s a spiritual connection.

I have, these past few months, undergone a spiritual awakening of my own. I realise now, that I have spent too much of my life doing things that needed to be done instead of the things that I wanted to do. It’s a form of mid-life crisis, only instead of disillusionment, there is determination. Decisions have been made and I am a rejuvenated man. I know what I want and I see no reason why it cannot happen. Writing is of course, a huge part of these plans, albeit one that I have less control over, but I will not die wondering.

In keeping with this mindset, I have re-engaged with another passion that I have neglected for too long. Acting. It’s something I have loved since my college days but which, following the advent of marriage and fatherhood, I neglected. While I have no regrets, I will say that I could (and should) have spared a little time for acting. Creativity inspires creativity. How much easier would the writing have been had I also tread the boards but a little? I fear that men often put themselves last, with duty trumping everything, including health and happiness. And yet, if we neglect ourselves, how can we be happy, balanced and adjusted people? How can we be good parents and attentive partners? Our neglect is irresponsible. The Gnostic Gospels are unequivocal on this point:

“If you give birth to that which is within you, that which is within you shall save you. If you do not give birth to that which is within you, that which is within you shall destroy you.”

And so, embracing that which is within me, I will play the part of The Fool in a theatrical adaptation of Terry Pratchett’s ‘Wyrd Sisters’ which is being run by Skerries Theatre Group later this month.

Pratchett was truly an astonishing writer, and unlike C.S. Forester, he adored his craft. The two men could not be more different in style and narrative, and yet, they were both superb storytellers.  Perhaps the compulsion to tell stories is part of the spiritual connection we mortals have with pen and paper. Stories are, after all, the oldest and most universal trait of human behaviour, regardless of creed or culture. Pratchett’s Fool is a wonderful character. He is laughable, idiotic, erudite and honest - a very different character to say, the wise and haunted likes of Robin Hobbs’ Fool in the Farseer Trilogy. I adored those books but I find the optimism of Pratchett’s Fool compelling and utterly endearing. I will give my all to do justice to this character who was, as we all know, crafted by a writer of unparalleled brilliance. If any of you wish to see Pratchett brought to life, please come to Skerries. The cast of Lancre would love to meet you.

I will write again soon with further updates in the diaries of an aspiring sci-fi writer. Until then, thank you all, and please do the things that bring you joy.

Pierce Hederman – October 2025

*Pierce speaks here of the afternath of his Manuscript Appraisal with The Gatekeeper. Book the service here:

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8h

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