I was flipping through a novel by a well known SF author who I've read and enjoyed in the past. ...and I realized that it's garbage. I picked a few others off the bookstore shelf, and realized that...they're all garbage. Bad writing, flat characters, unrealistic behavior...
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It's just bland crap. ...and I wonder if that's the secret. Extruded consistent, reliable pablum on a regular schedule. Makes me sad. This field used to be dominated by TITANS.
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In my mind I just invented 'Space Cul-du-Sac'. Think desperate housewives with fricking lasers & meteor showers. You'll get 5 seasons, nice pay, and only have to sell part of your soul. Also I'd like 5% for putting you on the path.
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Recently pondered writing the reverse: modern suburbs, presented as wonders 500 years in the future. Really: right now I'm communicating instantly with any # of people any distance away using a magic glass slate that has a measurable IQ, & the bulk of humanity's knowledge.
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Indoor climate is controlled by that AI, any temp & humidity on demand I can order anything to my door overnight via that AI/slate. Money? near nonexistent. Staggeringly extravagant entertainment, costing the GDP of major nations, available free on moving stained-glass windows.
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