Ask the Author: Sean Gibson
Answered Questions (28)
Sean Gibson
1. Icosidodecahedron
2. Once and Future Witches by Alix Harrow
3. My children describe my accent as "dumb." But no, not British--I'm American through and through
2. Once and Future Witches by Alix Harrow
3. My children describe my accent as "dumb." But no, not British--I'm American through and through
Sean Gibson
Madam, I regret to inform you that Mr. Rod Holder seems to have transcended his earthly shackles and ascended to a realm of higher consciousness, leaving behind no trace of his legendary writings. He left no forwarding address, but I like to think that, like King Arthur, Rod Holder will rise in our hour of greatest need, coming and coming again until we are satisfied.
Sean Gibson
Wait...is THAT what I'm supposed to be doing?
Oops.
It's a good question, and it's a tricky balance. Everyone approaches this differently, but for me, I tend to noodle on ideas, jot down big plot points, and then break those down into something that resembles a chapter outline. But, and here's the key--all of that stuff is in (digital) pencil. As I write, I sometimes come up with better (or at least different) ideas and need to pivot, which can have a ripple effect through the outline.
It's a balancing act, right? And it shifts depending on the nature of the story--the Heloise stories don't need to be as tightly plotted as others, so those outlines are a little more loosey-goosey. Where there's a lot of plots and subplots and sub-supblots, the outline is penciled in a little more boldly.
I hope that helps--thanks for asking!
Oops.
It's a good question, and it's a tricky balance. Everyone approaches this differently, but for me, I tend to noodle on ideas, jot down big plot points, and then break those down into something that resembles a chapter outline. But, and here's the key--all of that stuff is in (digital) pencil. As I write, I sometimes come up with better (or at least different) ideas and need to pivot, which can have a ripple effect through the outline.
It's a balancing act, right? And it shifts depending on the nature of the story--the Heloise stories don't need to be as tightly plotted as others, so those outlines are a little more loosey-goosey. Where there's a lot of plots and subplots and sub-supblots, the outline is penciled in a little more boldly.
I hope that helps--thanks for asking!
Sean Gibson
There are three possible answers to this highly intelligent question:
1) You are a discerning reader of only the world’s greatest literature;
2) You are enchanted at the prospect of wrapping yourself in a cocoon of words that cascaded from the pen of the voice of a generation;
3) You are really, really drunk right now.
My money is on #3.
1) You are a discerning reader of only the world’s greatest literature;
2) You are enchanted at the prospect of wrapping yourself in a cocoon of words that cascaded from the pen of the voice of a generation;
3) You are really, really drunk right now.
My money is on #3.
Sean Gibson
Zach, Zach, Zach…it’s okay to admit that you were obsessively scouring my pictures because you are bamboozled as to how a head that small can support a nose that big. I get it.
And, man—it’s tough, isn’t it? Reading time—let alone writing time—diminishes exponentially with the advent of tiny humans in your life.
I probably do less reading than you think (and almost all of my writing transpires in the backseat of strangers� cars during the ride-sharing portion of my commute), but here are a few secrets:
1) Read graphic novels. They take way less time than a book but STILL COUNT AS BOOKS. So, there’s that.
2) Use an ereader/app. Both of my children are sucktacular sleepers, so I’ve wiled away many a long, late-night hour trying to get them back to sleep with the help of my Kindle. God bless the people who enabled one-handed reading in the dark.
3) Treat sleep like an undercarriage wash. Sure, we all like to get the super-duper deluxe car wash because it makes us feel like kings, but no one really NEEDS all that nonsense. The basic version works just fine for most. I feel the same way about sleep—I get what I can, but, like noted sage Jon Bon Jovi once said, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
Good luck, my friend, and happy reading whenever time permits!
And, man—it’s tough, isn’t it? Reading time—let alone writing time—diminishes exponentially with the advent of tiny humans in your life.
I probably do less reading than you think (and almost all of my writing transpires in the backseat of strangers� cars during the ride-sharing portion of my commute), but here are a few secrets:
1) Read graphic novels. They take way less time than a book but STILL COUNT AS BOOKS. So, there’s that.
2) Use an ereader/app. Both of my children are sucktacular sleepers, so I’ve wiled away many a long, late-night hour trying to get them back to sleep with the help of my Kindle. God bless the people who enabled one-handed reading in the dark.
3) Treat sleep like an undercarriage wash. Sure, we all like to get the super-duper deluxe car wash because it makes us feel like kings, but no one really NEEDS all that nonsense. The basic version works just fine for most. I feel the same way about sleep—I get what I can, but, like noted sage Jon Bon Jovi once said, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
Good luck, my friend, and happy reading whenever time permits!
Sean Gibson
I experience self-doubt as a HUMAN pretty much every moment of every day; naturally, then, I think most things I write are abysmal, except for intentionally abysmal puns, which, ironically, I think are great.
I mostly combat that feeling with Scotch, and sometimes by injecting ecstasy into my armpits.
I’m (mostly) kidding.
Writing for public consumption, particularly if you’re at all the kind of person who really likes to be liked (e.g., me), is a terrifying thing to do. But, when you balance that against a compulsive desire to tell stories, make sense of the world, and, hopefully, make people laugh, think, or just feel a tiny bit better for a few minutes because they’re distracted by something that entertains them, it gives you the courage to put stuff out there that might, by all objective measures, suck woolly mammoth balls.
I can’t speak for other writers, but it’s that desire that gives me the ability to push through the (many) times I feel like I can’t write my way out of a very small bathroom.
Thank you for such a thoughtful question!
I mostly combat that feeling with Scotch, and sometimes by injecting ecstasy into my armpits.
I’m (mostly) kidding.
Writing for public consumption, particularly if you’re at all the kind of person who really likes to be liked (e.g., me), is a terrifying thing to do. But, when you balance that against a compulsive desire to tell stories, make sense of the world, and, hopefully, make people laugh, think, or just feel a tiny bit better for a few minutes because they’re distracted by something that entertains them, it gives you the courage to put stuff out there that might, by all objective measures, suck woolly mammoth balls.
I can’t speak for other writers, but it’s that desire that gives me the ability to push through the (many) times I feel like I can’t write my way out of a very small bathroom.
Thank you for such a thoughtful question!
Sean Gibson
I'll offer up two.
First, don't eat the yellow snow. The reason for that should be obvious.
Second, treat others as THEY want to be treated (not as YOU want to be treated). Other people aren't like you--if something that seems trivial to you bothers them, respect that. Don't assume everyone is the same. Learn about them and treat them respectfully. (Caveat: all of this is within reason. If someone tells you to strangle a puppy or that chocolate is disgusting, you can callously disregard them.)
First, don't eat the yellow snow. The reason for that should be obvious.
Second, treat others as THEY want to be treated (not as YOU want to be treated). Other people aren't like you--if something that seems trivial to you bothers them, respect that. Don't assume everyone is the same. Learn about them and treat them respectfully. (Caveat: all of this is within reason. If someone tells you to strangle a puppy or that chocolate is disgusting, you can callously disregard them.)
Sean Gibson
First of all, I will note that the king of the faeries would look absolutely ridiculous with my eyebrows. It would be like putting a handlebar mustache on a worm. His countenance, though finely featured and undeniably handsome, is poorly suited to the task of pulling off these eyebrows, the very weight of which would most likely cause the poor nobleman to appear as though he were perpetually sleepy or unable to manipulate his facial muscles properly.
That said, if the king of the faeries DID wish to trade for them, I would ask him to grant the world a measure of understanding. I would ask him to make us all more empathetic, that we might see the world as others do and so come to acknowledge and appreciate our differences while uniting and celebrating the commonalities that make us all human, and all one people.
LOLZ
I can’t even write that with a straight face. I would just ask for a shitload of money.
That said, if the king of the faeries DID wish to trade for them, I would ask him to grant the world a measure of understanding. I would ask him to make us all more empathetic, that we might see the world as others do and so come to acknowledge and appreciate our differences while uniting and celebrating the commonalities that make us all human, and all one people.
LOLZ
I can’t even write that with a straight face. I would just ask for a shitload of money.
Sean Gibson
I am here to help, Sherry!
When you write a review, you should a field beneath the "Dates read" section that says, "Who recommended it to me." If you start typing the name of the person in that field, it will auto complete by filling in anyone in your group of friends with that name (if you have multiple people with the same name, you can scroll down to pick the right one). I hope that helps!
(This is a fantastic development, incidentally...now, not only am I a bestselling author (within the confines of my own Amazon cart) and sex symbol to dozens of myopic octogenarians (I'm like Spanish fly to those bingo-playing she-tigers), but now I'm a bona fide go-to expert for all things Ĺ·±¦ÓéŔÖ!)
When you write a review, you should a field beneath the "Dates read" section that says, "Who recommended it to me." If you start typing the name of the person in that field, it will auto complete by filling in anyone in your group of friends with that name (if you have multiple people with the same name, you can scroll down to pick the right one). I hope that helps!
(This is a fantastic development, incidentally...now, not only am I a bestselling author (within the confines of my own Amazon cart) and sex symbol to dozens of myopic octogenarians (I'm like Spanish fly to those bingo-playing she-tigers), but now I'm a bona fide go-to expert for all things Ĺ·±¦ÓéŔÖ!)
Sean Gibson
The ghostly pale creature glided in closer, a tangled thicket of ropy, slime-covered vines dangling from two dark and cavernous openings on its underside, and it snorted and snuffled, exhaling a stream of hot, fetid air that tickled my lips and filled me with a dread so fearsome I couldn’t move. On this, our first date, Sean Gibson had decided to kiss me, and I couldn’t escape the path of his horrific proboscis.
Sean Gibson
If by “done� you mean “never touch them and let them do whatever they want to do until one unruly renegade eyebrow hair juts out perpendicular to my face, at which point I pluck it with all due haste and prejudice, even if sometimes it’s hard to get a grip on, so I end up tugging futilely on it for a good two minutes, at which point I’m screaming like a tiny gopher getting stepped on by an inconsiderate camel and growing more frustrated than 1997 me on prom night”…then yes, I get them done.
Sean Gibson
Sadly, Siobhan, it is only available in paperback in my imagination at this point--thus far, not a single tree has volunteered to sacrifice its life for Heloise & Grimple, with most comments from our woody friends ranging from "I'm holding out to be a Brandon Sanderson book" to "I'd rather be toilet paper."
As of right now, H&G is only available through Amazon on Kindle.
As of right now, H&G is only available through Amazon on Kindle.
Sean Gibson
I’m primarily worth following because dragons find me delicious, and the odds are pretty good that, should one be in the mood to attack people and you’re following along behind me, you’ll be able to escape amidst the chaos as said dragon crunches down on my bones, sucks out the marrow, and uses one of my hamstrings to floss.
But, yes, being a Battling Bishop, native Michiganian, and English major are all acceptable reasons as well. :)
But, yes, being a Battling Bishop, native Michiganian, and English major are all acceptable reasons as well. :)
Sean Gibson
My inability to effectively use scissors, which dates back to my kindergarten days some 33 years ago. Is it simply a case of utter lack of coordination (and the fact that the blunt safety scissors that they inexplicably give to left-handed kids couldn't cut through heated butter), or is there something more sinister involved, a long-term plot to embarrass me by rendering anything I cut wavy and jagged, exposing me as incompetent and, worse, possibly a serial killer?
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, especially left-handed men who are still mad at their kindergarten teachers for calling them out on their poor scissor-using abilities on a report card even though the scissors they gave him couldn't have cut through soggy tissue paper that was already pre-ripped 90% of the way through?
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, especially left-handed men who are still mad at their kindergarten teachers for calling them out on their poor scissor-using abilities on a report card even though the scissors they gave him couldn't have cut through soggy tissue paper that was already pre-ripped 90% of the way through?
Sean Gibson
Thanks for the question, Jacob! I assume we’re looking for a more sophisticated response than Fox in Socks, though that one’s hard to beat.
Let me complicate a very straightforward question by saying that I’m ruling ineligible for my response any book that’s part of a series. “That seems unduly draconian, Big Nose,� you might opine, and you would certainly be justified in holding that opinion, both about my exclusion of series books and the proportions of my proboscis. That said, the reason for that exclusion is that I find it impossible to judge a book in a series solely on its own merit; it is inextricably bound up with and linked to the events that happen in the other books in the series, events that inform your response to the book upon first read and shade your memory and perception of it after you’ve read subsequent volumes. For example, I would probably say that GOBLET OF FIRE is my favorite Harry Potter book, but perhaps my love for that book is, at least in part, a result of the buildup to it in the preceding three books and knowing the impact Voldemort’s return at the book’s end will have on future tales.
(Should I have marked that as a spoiler? I feel like that one’s pretty fair game at this point. Voldemort comes back, people.)
With that in mind, then, I shall limit the pool of potential candidates to stand-alone books, and while it is still an exceedingly difficult choice, if forced to select a single tome at feather end (which I find a much safer, if no less daunting, prospect than being held at gunpoint, tickling being an intense and sometimes unwelcome sensation), I would say Bram Stoker's DRACULA.
Why Dracula? I’m glad you asked.
(Wait, what? You didn’t ask and I’m just rambling on assuming that people care? Hmm. Well, fair enough.)
I first encountered Dracula as a precocious second grader. While I wouldn’t recommend that most 8-year-olds read a book that’s likely to give them nightmares, if not force them into years of therapy (or, at least, force them to look up every other word), I was hooked from the get-go by a book whose style and plot resonated from page one. For whatever reason, the ornate language, shiver-inducing slow-burn buildup, and terrifying prospect of one of fiction’s most fascinating villains appealed to me so much that, 10 years later, I would make Victorian lit the primary focus of my collegiate career as an English literature major (though, to be fair, the subsequently read works of Dickens and Conan Doyle played a major—pun fully intended—role in that decision).
Sure, the book is laden with Victorian melodrama and weird psychosexual shenanigans, but I love that stuff (well, the Victorian melodrama, at least). I’d be hard pressed to think of another single book that pulled me so fully and completely into its world and left me breathless at its conclusion.
Turnabout� fair play, loyal readers—what is YOUR single favorite book? Let us know in the comments below!
Let me complicate a very straightforward question by saying that I’m ruling ineligible for my response any book that’s part of a series. “That seems unduly draconian, Big Nose,� you might opine, and you would certainly be justified in holding that opinion, both about my exclusion of series books and the proportions of my proboscis. That said, the reason for that exclusion is that I find it impossible to judge a book in a series solely on its own merit; it is inextricably bound up with and linked to the events that happen in the other books in the series, events that inform your response to the book upon first read and shade your memory and perception of it after you’ve read subsequent volumes. For example, I would probably say that GOBLET OF FIRE is my favorite Harry Potter book, but perhaps my love for that book is, at least in part, a result of the buildup to it in the preceding three books and knowing the impact Voldemort’s return at the book’s end will have on future tales.
(Should I have marked that as a spoiler? I feel like that one’s pretty fair game at this point. Voldemort comes back, people.)
With that in mind, then, I shall limit the pool of potential candidates to stand-alone books, and while it is still an exceedingly difficult choice, if forced to select a single tome at feather end (which I find a much safer, if no less daunting, prospect than being held at gunpoint, tickling being an intense and sometimes unwelcome sensation), I would say Bram Stoker's DRACULA.
Why Dracula? I’m glad you asked.
(Wait, what? You didn’t ask and I’m just rambling on assuming that people care? Hmm. Well, fair enough.)
I first encountered Dracula as a precocious second grader. While I wouldn’t recommend that most 8-year-olds read a book that’s likely to give them nightmares, if not force them into years of therapy (or, at least, force them to look up every other word), I was hooked from the get-go by a book whose style and plot resonated from page one. For whatever reason, the ornate language, shiver-inducing slow-burn buildup, and terrifying prospect of one of fiction’s most fascinating villains appealed to me so much that, 10 years later, I would make Victorian lit the primary focus of my collegiate career as an English literature major (though, to be fair, the subsequently read works of Dickens and Conan Doyle played a major—pun fully intended—role in that decision).
Sure, the book is laden with Victorian melodrama and weird psychosexual shenanigans, but I love that stuff (well, the Victorian melodrama, at least). I’d be hard pressed to think of another single book that pulled me so fully and completely into its world and left me breathless at its conclusion.
Turnabout� fair play, loyal readers—what is YOUR single favorite book? Let us know in the comments below!
Sean Gibson
Anne, people think it's great living the glamorous life of a bestselling* author, but they don't know about the health hazards that are involved.
Flung Undergarment Concussion Syndrome is no laughing matter. I've gotten FUCS from so many women, I've lost count. Heck, I've even gotten FUCS from some random men, right in the middle of a crowded open-air mall. Sometimes FUCS is over before you even realize it's begun, but sometimes FUCS can go on for days on end. If people knew how often I got FUCS because of my prodigious vocabulary and linguistic prowess...well, they probably wouldn't covet my life as much as they seem to.
I think I'm going to start wearing a helmet when I'm out in public. Or, at least a raincoat. Because you want to try to protect yourself from FUCS.
Please pray for me.
*I'm fairly certain I've sold more books than any other author named Sean B. Gibson who has penned a book with "Heloise" in the title.
Flung Undergarment Concussion Syndrome is no laughing matter. I've gotten FUCS from so many women, I've lost count. Heck, I've even gotten FUCS from some random men, right in the middle of a crowded open-air mall. Sometimes FUCS is over before you even realize it's begun, but sometimes FUCS can go on for days on end. If people knew how often I got FUCS because of my prodigious vocabulary and linguistic prowess...well, they probably wouldn't covet my life as much as they seem to.
I think I'm going to start wearing a helmet when I'm out in public. Or, at least a raincoat. Because you want to try to protect yourself from FUCS.
Please pray for me.
*I'm fairly certain I've sold more books than any other author named Sean B. Gibson who has penned a book with "Heloise" in the title.
Sean Gibson
It’s a love story for the ages, a tale as old as time, yet as timely as it is timeless.
Boy meets Czech model, has three kids who later serve as executive vice presidents of his multibillion dollar company in an extraordinary act of nepotism, divorces Czech model following tabloid-fodder affair with television starlet, marries starlet, names new daughter after famously uppity luxury retailer, divorces starlet, begins dating Slovene model, marries Slovene model and has child number five, runs for President of the United States, alienates wife number three in the course of so doing (though it could also have been the video- and audio-taped evidence of his propensity for misogynistic commentary if not outright sexual assault he views as a privilege of celebrity responsible for putting her off), gets elected by less than half of the people who voted, runs country with iron fist by making decisions that require no basis in facts or data, lives apart from wife, watches cable news on endless loop and tweets that any negative coverage of him, no matter how truthful, constitutes “fake news,� traffics in alternative facts.
It’s as beautiful as it is heartbreaking, as inspiring as it is romantic.
And that’s why Donald and Melania Trump are my favorite fictional couple. They have a love that�
Wait, what? They’re NOT fictional?
Well, f@ck me sideways.
I guess I'll go with Alf-Khalan and Jillian of Water for Alien Were-Dinos fame, then. Because mint chocolate chip rules.
Boy meets Czech model, has three kids who later serve as executive vice presidents of his multibillion dollar company in an extraordinary act of nepotism, divorces Czech model following tabloid-fodder affair with television starlet, marries starlet, names new daughter after famously uppity luxury retailer, divorces starlet, begins dating Slovene model, marries Slovene model and has child number five, runs for President of the United States, alienates wife number three in the course of so doing (though it could also have been the video- and audio-taped evidence of his propensity for misogynistic commentary if not outright sexual assault he views as a privilege of celebrity responsible for putting her off), gets elected by less than half of the people who voted, runs country with iron fist by making decisions that require no basis in facts or data, lives apart from wife, watches cable news on endless loop and tweets that any negative coverage of him, no matter how truthful, constitutes “fake news,� traffics in alternative facts.
It’s as beautiful as it is heartbreaking, as inspiring as it is romantic.
And that’s why Donald and Melania Trump are my favorite fictional couple. They have a love that�
Wait, what? They’re NOT fictional?
Well, f@ck me sideways.
I guess I'll go with Alf-Khalan and Jillian of Water for Alien Were-Dinos fame, then. Because mint chocolate chip rules.
Sean Gibson
Thanks for the question, Bruno! As of right now, I'm afraid that The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple is available exclusively through Kindle, though I'm hopeful that, at some point, we'll be able to do a TPB version (that all depends on demand, and, right now, most people prefer to demand that I stop writing rather than produce more). Rest assured that I'll keep everyone on GR posted if we're able to make that happen!
(In the meantime, I do have the book available as a PDF as well; if that's a better format and you're interested in reading, please feel free to message me.)
(In the meantime, I do have the book available as a PDF as well; if that's a better format and you're interested in reading, please feel free to message me.)
Sean Gibson
Thanks, Sylvia! I like to think of myself as a cool glass of virtual lemonade in the steamy, sweltering morass of the bowels of the internet.
Not that I would particularly want anyone to take a big drink of me, mind you, because, well, then I’d need to be liquefied, and I can’t imagine the process of being liquefied is without discomfort, based solely on conjecture about the excruciating pain involved in turning bones into calcium-rich slurry, and�
Maybe I should have stopped at “Thanks, Sylvia.�
Not that I would particularly want anyone to take a big drink of me, mind you, because, well, then I’d need to be liquefied, and I can’t imagine the process of being liquefied is without discomfort, based solely on conjecture about the excruciating pain involved in turning bones into calcium-rich slurry, and�
Maybe I should have stopped at “Thanks, Sylvia.�
Sean Gibson
Primarily by using copious quantities of cocaine to forego sleep.
Kidding! Thanks for the question, Courtney—I understand where you’re coming from. There is never enough time to do everything you want, and it’s frustrating to realize all of the things you’re not doing that you can or want to be, or to realize that you’re doing a less-than-stellar job on some of the things you are doing because you don’t have time to give them the care and attention they deserve.
I wish I could say that I’ve solved the problem through some ingenious solution—I tried cloning, but the FDA indicated that the process was not yet approved for use on humans, and NATO suggested that if there were two of me running around, the U.S. would likely face a coalition of nations trying to remedy that situation. I also tried a time-turner, but apparently I’ve got too much muggle in me (I blame my parents).
Ultimately, it’s a constant balancing act of prioritization—decide what is most important, devote the necessary time to that, and then let the rest fall in line behind it. My family is the most important thing in my life, so they get top priority, and then work comes second because, well, they pay me and I have to do it. That means that writing time is exceedingly minimal, so I have to jam it in however I can—currently, that means two small chunks of time during my commute each day (as I detail in the preface of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple). As kiddos get older and other life changes occur, I anticipate having more writing time, but until then, I’ll just keep juggling and racing from one thing to the next.
And using lots of cocaine.
Good luck with your own balancing! I have no doubt that you’ll find the optimal way to get done the things that are most important to you.
Kidding! Thanks for the question, Courtney—I understand where you’re coming from. There is never enough time to do everything you want, and it’s frustrating to realize all of the things you’re not doing that you can or want to be, or to realize that you’re doing a less-than-stellar job on some of the things you are doing because you don’t have time to give them the care and attention they deserve.
I wish I could say that I’ve solved the problem through some ingenious solution—I tried cloning, but the FDA indicated that the process was not yet approved for use on humans, and NATO suggested that if there were two of me running around, the U.S. would likely face a coalition of nations trying to remedy that situation. I also tried a time-turner, but apparently I’ve got too much muggle in me (I blame my parents).
Ultimately, it’s a constant balancing act of prioritization—decide what is most important, devote the necessary time to that, and then let the rest fall in line behind it. My family is the most important thing in my life, so they get top priority, and then work comes second because, well, they pay me and I have to do it. That means that writing time is exceedingly minimal, so I have to jam it in however I can—currently, that means two small chunks of time during my commute each day (as I detail in the preface of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple). As kiddos get older and other life changes occur, I anticipate having more writing time, but until then, I’ll just keep juggling and racing from one thing to the next.
And using lots of cocaine.
Good luck with your own balancing! I have no doubt that you’ll find the optimal way to get done the things that are most important to you.
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