An interview with BWR 2025 Short Story Judge Adrian Tchaikovsky . . .
Adrian Tchaikovsky is a British science-fiction and fantasy writer known for a wide-variety of work including the Children of Time, Final Architecture, Dogs of War, Tyrant Philosophers, and Shadows of the Apt series, as well as standalone books such as Elder Race, Doors of Eden, and Spiderlight. Overall, he has more than 50 novels and novellas in print, as well as a variety of short fiction.
He has won the British Science Fiction award three times (Shards of Earth, Children of Ruin, City of Last Chances), as well as the Sidewise Award (Doors of Eden), the British Fantasy Award (The Tiger and the Wolf), and the Arthur C. Clarke award (Children of Time). His work has also been shortlisted for the Locus and Hugo awards.
He is noted for a love of insects, spiders, invertebrates as a whole and, in general, any kind of critter that most people don’t like. His work is full of these kinds of beasties, and back in school his teachers told him that if he didn’t stop including spiders in everything, then he’d get nowhere in life. A prediction that has spectacularly backfired.
Interview by BWG member A.E. Decker
Bethlehem Writers Group: What inspired you to sit down and craft your first novel, and did you imagine an entire career would come out of it?
Adrian Tchaikovsky: I started off creating worlds and characters for role-playing games. As a hobby, but the creative process has a lot of overlap with writing, and perhaps most important, you’re doing it for other people so you have an audience from the start. Around age 17 I ran into the Dragonlance books by Weis and Hickman, which were basically a D&D campaign on the page. This was the lightbulb moment bridging the gap from games to writing. Like the vast majority of new aspiring writers, I absolutely did think a career would come out of it, and like most of us, it absolutely didn’t for a very long time–15 years before I both honed my craft and got lucky enough to get anything significant into print.
BWG: Many writers say they find writing humor difficult, but you pull it off splendidly in such works as One Day All This Will Be Yours. Do you have to shift mental gears to write humor, or does it come as easily as more serious pieces?
AT: A lot of traditional fantasy writing is relatively serious–certainly the epic/heroic fantasy before the ‘90s is very short on laughs, whether authorial or in-world. Humor makes some significant inroads with the early “grimdark” authors like Abercrombie and Parker who absolutely understand that, if you’re going to go bleak, it works best if you also go funny, because that makes everything easier to swallow. My early work is also fairly straight, but I start to play with humor from my book Spiderlight (about four years on from my first publication). I think being able to write in a more humorous mode is something that came with confidence in my own abilities, for me. I also do tend to deploy it when the actual subject matter of the books is bleakest, for exactly the same reasons as above.
BWG: Have you ever had a “gift story” that seemed to spring into your head perfectly formed and needed very little revision? Has this happened more than once?
AT: I’ve had plenty of isolated ideas that led to stories, but only once has a significant portion of a story presented itself to me fully formed–in this case the majority of the Mars setup of Bear Head. The concept literally came to me in a dream while I was at a convention, which seems so patently concocted even I have difficulty believing it’s true.
BWG: As an author of both genres, what differences do you see between writing science fiction and fantasy? I’ve encountered few writers whose works run the spectrum of hard sci-fi, like Children of Time, to pure Tolkien-esque fantasy, like Spiderlight, so successfully.
AT: For me it’s a matter of “left wall,” i.e., a constraint that hems in my worldbuilding, and that I have to work with–in this case the known science I’m working with. I generally have to do real world research on the topics I identify as important, to get my head around the concepts involved. When I’m writing space opera SF, like Final Architecture, the science is less important, as it just has to hit the eye with the right aesthetic, without needing to be reasoned through in the same way. When I’m working with a full secondary world fantasy, the sky’s the limit, save that of course I have to then be consistent within the setting. It’s worth noting that it’s not just hard SF that has a left wall–if I was writing in a real historical period, say, that would bring its own constraints and burden of research.
BWG: Many of your books contain impressively constructed worlds. Where do you start in building a world for your story, and how do you keep track of the details?
AT: My words generally start with a key “What if?” question, and I start with the key changes that idea makes to a world and follow them outward through a logical extrapolation–like the ripples from dropping a stone into a pool. I do a lot of work on my worlds before starting on anything else, and often end up with a lot of detail that doesn’t make it into the books explicitly, but is part of the scaffolding holding it all up. I don’t have any fancy way of keeping track of all of this–I just have a fairly rambling Word file, and maybe some concept sketches.
BWG: When you start writing a story, what comes first: the plot, setting, character, or theme? Does it depend on the type of story you’re telling; i.e., humorous, serious, sci-fi, or fantasy?
AT: World, always world. I write so I can show people the worlds I create. My characters and plots arise out of the world details, which show me who the interesting people are, and where the crises and friction points can be found. This is really the one part of my process that never varies. I need to feel I have a solid world under my feet to write.
BWG: Have you ever had an idea for a story that didn’t work out and you were forced to “put in the trunk”? Do you think you’ll ever take it out again? Also, do you have any really ambitious ideas that you don’t feel ready to pull off yet?
AT: Leaving aside a dozen or so books I wrote before Empire in Black and Gold (I have saved two, but the rest were stylistically so bad it wouldn’t be worth the work!), there have been occasional misfires. One was around a quarter done when I recognized a fallacy in the setup that made the whole thing nonsensical. There are some fun ideas in that one that I may try and rescue, but I’d need to solve the key problem first. Plus there are certainly a few ideas hanging about that would stretch me sufficiently far I’m not ready to try them. I need to have few key revelations as to how I can bring their key ideas across–often these involve devices working at the level of prose style, tricks, devices, unusual ways of writing. A few of these have come together and become working books (Children of Memory and Ogres are examples). A few others remain to be solved.
BWG: I’ve read that you prefer to write in the morning, when your ideas are fresh. (I’ve also read that you’re an octopus who writes with all his arms simultaneously.) Are there any other rituals/routines you perform to help keep the words flowing?
AT: Honestly, I’m flexible. I have no writing rituals or superstitions. I can write at home, in a coffee shop, on a train, in an airport. I tend to get my daily shift done in the morning because I get up to get my son to school and so the time’s there to be used. When I had a regular job I wrote late evenings because that was what I had.
BWG: Are you ever visited by that particular horror, Writer’s Block? If so, how do you break free of it? If not, please share the secret of your immunity!
AT: I have never been in a position where I’ve not known what to write. I generally plan, and even when I don’t have an actual chapter breakdown, I usually have a sense of what comes next. What I do occasionally get is a logical lacunae I hadn’t foreseen while planning. (Often the dreaded “how does X find out Y, in order to do Z?” because for some reason information transfer between characters is a real bugbear–how many books and films can you think of where the villain just out and out tells the hero a piece of information for no reason and against their own interests? That’s why.) Then I’ll need to sit and wrestle with it for a few days, but I can usually see the crisis points coming ahead of time, so I keep on writing toward them in the hope the solution will present itself. Another hitch can be that a scene just feels wrong, stale, or awkward when written. In that case I’ll usually switch to a different perspective, or else use a device to tell the events a different way (in retrospect, a recounting by someone, etc.).
BWG: Are there any of your stories that you’re quite proud of, but didn’t seem to receive quite the reception/acclaim you’d hoped it would?
AT: Always. One of my favourite novels is Guns of the Dawn, aka “Pride and Extreme Prejudice,” a sort of Jane Austen/Bernard Cornwell/+magic book with the best romance plot I ever wrote. It has some diehard fans but never really took off. Spiderlight also came and went without anyone really noticing, although that’s getting a second outing, I think.
BWG: How do you deal with criticism, especially when you were just starting out in your writing career? What makes criticism constructive, as opposed to useless, or simply negative?
AT: Early on I was dreadful with criticism, but as I didn’t actually seek any out, that didn’t really matter. I just wrote and submitted and didn’t have any other eyes on my work. If I’d have been of a mindset to take criticism, that might well have shaved some years off my time in the wilderness. At the time, the publishing industry definitely colluded with my sin, when I submitted, not actually providing any criticism or feedback, just stock rejections, so a certain equilibrium was retained. By the time I was actually writing good enough prose, I had also progressed to being able to take feedback, which was just as well, as I needed the help of both agent and editor to get the books into a polished state.
BWG: It’s always an interesting thing to look back on one’s own work. Do you ever reread your older novels and think you could write them better now? How do you feel you’ve improved as a writer over the years?
AT: I am definitely a better writer than I was, which is honestly reasonable given I’ve written 50+ books since 2007, when Empire came out. It would be a bit depressing if I hadn’t improved, honestly. When we were reprinting the Shadows of the Apt books a few years ago, I re-experienced them via Ben Allen’s excellent audiobooks, and the thought did occur that I could have tarted them up a bit. However it would have taken an enormous chunk of time that I really needed to write new books, and the series as it stands is, at least, an honest reflection of what I wanted to do with the setting.
BWG: Pretty standard question here, but what would be your advice for someone just starting out as a writer of speculative fiction?
AT: Honestly, every writer I know has (a) a completely different approach to writing and (b) a very different path into the industry. Other than just keep writing, try to make sure what you submit is as good as it can get, and get lucky, what’s to be said? If (unlike younger me) you can take criticism, get some criticism. Get a writers group, get some sort of forum. Find someone you trust–there are even professional editors and book doctors if you have the wherewithal–to give you the bad news about what you’ve written. Also, be aware that writing “rules” are guidelines at best, and don’t box yourself in with lots of “always do this, never do that” advice. Prescriptive decrees about how to write aren’t helpful–you need a toolkit, not barriers.
BWG: There’s been a lot of controversy surrounding the speculative fiction industry recently, particularly surrounding the Hugo awards. Diversity and inclusion are important. Do you have any thoughts on the more political side of the writing world? How would you like to see the industry evolve in the future?
AT: The writing world often seems like the outside real world in miniature. Thus far we’ve had our travails and incursions, but generally weathered them. The field of writers is considerably more diverse by most metrics than it ever has been before, which is good. Room for improvement, also by most metrics, I’m sure, but at least there’s been movement in the right direction. In SF, in particular, the majority of the strongest voices aren’t your traditional white men (Martine, Leckie, Chambers, Jemisin, Okorafor, Lee, Anders, Muir, Thompson, to name but a few). The genre of unbounded ideas continues to push back against restrictive thinking more, I feel, than it just recycles reactionary ideas. We are the “What If?” people, after all. No real point asking, “What if everything just stayed the same?”
BWG: Who are your favorite fiction authors, and do you prefer reading fiction or nonfiction?
AT: I mainly read fiction–or rather listen to it, as I tend to go for audiobooks these days. I’m currently on a bit of a T. Kingfisher chain–her horror work, specifically, which absolutely hits the spot for me. I like Gareth Powell, and I like all the authors mentioned in the previous answer. Emma Newman is very good, and Adam Roberts (just finished his incredible Lake of Darkness). When I read nonfiction, it’s often for research, although every so often a random book will grab my attention, like a text on pirates, or magic and religion, on the basis that it might give me some useful threads toward a new book.
BWG: One of your recent works, Service Model, was inspired by your reading You Look Like a Thing and I Love You by Janelle Shane. What other stories of yours were inspired by your reading, and are you reading anything now that might become a new series?
AT: Not actual reading, but the Tyrant Philosophers series arose out of ideas spurred by history podcasts (as well as my prior knowledge of the relevant periods), specifically Revolutions and the currently running Empire. In general, everything I read has the potential to turn up in a book, but usually broken down into small pieces and then recombined in (hopefully) interesting ways.
BWG: You studied zoology and psychology. Do you think you might someday write a nonfiction book on either of these subjects?
AT: God, no. I’d actually have to write things that were true and accurate and that I hadn’t made up. That doesn’t sound like fun at all. Seriously, my wife is an academic and writes papers for publication. The amount of work she puts into writing what, for me, would be a short short story, is incredible.
BWG: What parts of the writer’s career do you most enjoy?
AT: Not to sound glib, but the writing. I love creating worlds and characters, and telling stories that other people are (ideally) going to read and enjoy. There is absolutely nothing in the world like it.
BWG: And, for the flip side, which parts do you find most annoying/worthy of being changed?
AT: I absolutely hate being edited, but I wouldn’t change it for the world because God knows I need editing. I think I hate the associated admin and bureaucracy, honestly, rather than the actual writing. Invoicing, tax forms, reading through proofs, just anything that isn’t actually writing new stuff. I really have to force myself to do it.
BWG: Is there any question about your work or life that you’ve always wished someone would ask, but has never come up?
AT: As for my life, honestly, so many writers seem to have incredible backstories full of travel and peril and adventure and wild escapades. I’m really like . . . well, in [Terry] Pratchett’s Soul Music there’s a band, and most of the band have complicated desires and histories, but there’s this dwarf, and he just wants to play the horn. That’s what he does, and it’s what he wants to be good at. That’s me, for writing. As for questions about my work, there’s nothing specific, but every so often someone will ask about or pick up on some very small point or utterly indulgent reference that I put a lot of work into, and then buried in the text so nobody would see, and it’s always a delight when someone actually spots it. ????
BWG: What’s your favorite arthropod?
AT: Tough call but probably praying mantis, mostly because they react visually to the world in a way that makes them very appealing and seemingly intelligent.