Shock of shocks, I'm updating the blog again! WorldCon was lovely, though I do wish I could have been in Glasgow to meet friends old and new. Next year's WorldCon is in Seattle, however, and I do plan to be there. I might even put on the musician hat while there and perform!

However, this blog post is titled "On Moderating," so I'm going to dive right into that. Since debuting last year, I've been on multiple panels and have moderated several of them. I've gone from "never moderated before" to "will improvise moderating in a pinch." Moderating, as it turns out, is kind of fun for me in that I am responsible for moving the conversation in certain directions, as well as be on the lookout for potential issues so I can head them off at the pass.

In other words, I get to be a conductor. There's really nothing I really love more than being in control of a situation, whether up front or behind the scenes. Pianists have to handle many factors when playing, which is why they often make the jump to conducting. Facility with multiple styles, reading in multiple staves, and being the substitute of the musical world also helps. What do I mean by that? In a combo, for example, the piano fills in any missing roles. Missing a drum? The piano is half the rhythm section now. Missing bass? The piano is now the bass and anchors the harmony. No lead? The piano is the lead. And so on and so on.

I didn't mean to let this get away from me, so I'm going to put on my moderator pin and bring the post back to the subject at hand: moderating. I thought, since I've had several amazing panels over the last year, I would post the questions I sent to my participants so you could get a window into my brain, as it were.

I'm an overpreparer, and I readily acknowledge that. Any time I'm in the moderator's chair or am operating as the conversation partner or interviewer, I spend a fair amount of time reading, researching, and thinking up questions for my panelists. I contact everyone before the event, preferably at least a week before, and ask my participants what they'd like to be asked and how they'd like the panel to be run. It lightens the load on the participants to know going in what sort of moderator I am. In the green room, I chat with everyone; I like to crack jokes, and laughter really goes a long way to easing nerves. I don't tell jokes, necessarily, but I do make observations and riff on whatever people are talking about, and it ends up making people laugh.

But the questions I like to ask probably make people cry (I'm kidding). I think my number one pet peeve when it comes to panels is doing Subject 101, especially if I'm sitting on a diversity panel (which I don't want to be tasked with, for any future conrunners reading this, thank you, unless it's interesting, and then I'll consider it). I love deep dives and getting real chewy. And I think panelists also want to go beyond Subject 101. The audience too.

Here are the questions sent for two of the panels I've moderated. Nota bene: We didn't cover all the questions, and that's by design. If the panelists are having a good time discussing the subject, I let them talk, and I often write more questions than we have time for in case we zip through and need more material.

Flights of Foundry 2023
Authority is Brittle: SFF Authors Analyze Andor

1. Andor, like other Star Wars movies and shows, highlights the native populations of planets across the galaxy. In Andor particularly, we see the children of Kenari, of which Cassian is one, the people of Aldhani, and the Narkinians. How do the portrayals of native peoples differ in Andor compared to the rest of Star Wars, and how central are these depictions to the story of Andor?
2. Relatedly, how have the showrunners shown colonialism in Andor that makes it markedly different from other Star Wars media? What are some examples that particularly stood out to you?
3. Let’s talk about the importance of family and community in the show and how that forces characters to change or take action, especially for Cassian and Mon Mothma, and what Andor’s message is regarding community in the face of fascism and authoritarianism.
4. One especially heartbreaking moment for me, on rewatch, is when Cassian says, “We were fighting ourselves.” (Episode 4) Tell me, first, how you reacted to that, if you reacted at all, and second, the series of conclusions you may have made in order to understand the magnitude of Cassian’s statement and how that is a recurring theme in his life.
5. Characters! We love the gray morality of so many of these characters. Whose journey did you find fascinating, and at what moment did you realize this was going to be a top character for you?
6. What storytelling or characterization techniques do you see in Andor that might translate well into your own fiction?
7. We’re all writers here, and Rebecca and Emma specifically have written Star Wars IP. After seeing what Tony Gilroy has done, how do you think that might change or not change your approach to IP, especially IP that has war and authoritarianism as its main premises?
8. The devil is in the details. What were your favorite small but impactful moments in the show?
9. And now, the negatives. What didn’t you like, and why?
10. Lightning round with softball questions.

WorldCon Online 2024
Fight the Power: Systems as Villains in SFF

1. The panel description is extremely reductive, especially since in real life, systems and the people who operate them and who are affected by them are complex and varied. What does "bad guy" mean in the context of your books? Are all systems problematic? What sorts of systems are in your writing?
2. What is the purpose of the systems you have, or if you want to broaden, the systems you're interested in? If we're to fight the system, what are the metrics by which we judge the goodness or badness of the system? Is it when the results of the system are deemed "good enough"? What would tip people from "reform the system" to "bring it down"?
3. How do we resist system inertia and system weight? Meaning, if resistance is the goal, what are ways to overcome the slow-moving juggernaut that is an entrenched system, with beneficiaries who are used to said system?
4. When it comes to resisting systems in fiction, how do you go about portraying that in your writing? What is possible to portray in the scope of a novel or a set of novels? Real life is complicated, nonlinear, and messy. Do you think you can, with the lens focused on a handful of POVs, reflect real-life solutions, or is it only possible to create an idealized solution? Essentially, what can one little person do?
5. What does a postcolonial system look like to you? For example, if a postcolonial system was created without things like resource extraction, conversion and evangelism, and subjugation as the guiding stars, what would that look like to you, and what sorts of issues might arise--or be avoided?

I've put myself forward as a moderator for more panels in the future. I'm hoping I get the gigs. If so, I'll post more questions!

Deepest apologies for not updating, especially with craft stuff, since that's what I really enjoy writing about (but we'll be discussing it at WorldCon during tomorrow's panel on systems as villains). To be perfectly frank, I've shifted away from the blog and more to the newsletter, which has various musings and what I've been listening to lately, as well as excerpts from things like The Book of Tony and The Memory Hunters. I feel more comfortable sharing excerpts there than here, where it's more easily found through a search.

I do encourage you all to sign up for the newsletter. The archives are available for perusal except for the ones that are locked specifically to subscribers. Sign up here:
buttondown.email/miatsai#subscribe-form

The archive is available here: buttondown.email/miatsai/archive/

The biggest news is that my next two books have been announced! I've got a duology coming out with Erewhon starting next summer. The first book is called The Memory Hunters. Yes, Key and Vale live! They'll be in book form! Thank you to everyone who was enthusiastic about the concept and all who sent me mushroom-related stuff. I'm pretty sure y'all manifested this for me. Go check out the announcement. Marty did a fabulous job with it.

www.erewhonbooks.com/announcing-mia-tsai-the-memory-hunters
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I've neglected this blog pretty hard in the last year; I really thought I'd update it more (and then I got the newsletter instead). But I just wanted to update this really quick with the lovely review Bitter Medicine got from the New York Times Review of Books!

It's here, and it's beautiful! Thank you to my editor, Jaymee Goh, for all her work, and my artist, Jialing Pan, for delivering a gorgeous cover. Check out more of Jialing's work here: ​https://jialingpan.com/

As a descendant of the Chinese god of medicine, ignored middle child Elle was destined to be a doctor. Instead, she's underemployed as a mediocre magical calligrapher at the fairy temp agency, paranoid that her murderous younger brother will find her and their elder brother.

Using her full abilities will expose Elle's location. Nevertheless, she challenges herself by covertly outfitting Luc, her client and crush, with high-powered glyphs.

Half-elf Luc, the agency's top security expert, has his own secret: he's responsible for a curse laid on two children from an old assignment. To heal them, he'll need to perform his job duties with unrelenting excellence and earn time off from his tyrannical boss.

When Elle saves Luc's life on a mission, he brings her a gift and a request for stronger magic to ensure success on the next job - except the next job is hunting down Elle's younger brother.

As Luc and Elle collaborate, their chemistry blooms. Happiness, for once, is an option for them both. But Elle is loyal to her family, and Luc is bound by his true name. To win freedom from duty, they must make unexpected sacrifices.

Preorders are the best way to support authors! It gives the publisher an early idea of how much interest there is in the book. If you're so inclined, the preorder link is here: tachyonpublications.com/product/bitter-medicine/

(If you missed the first Flights of Foundry roundup post on critique, have no fear! Click here.)

I have to admit fault: while I did indeed get busy between the last blog post and this one (copyedits and proofreads on books not mine, reading manuscripts, JAMDAM, revision turned in, book 2 pitch and synopsis turned in, personal life stuff), I was reluctant to write it not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I didn’t know what order to say things in. I’m a teacher—a pedagogue, no less—and information flow is a critical issue for me. And so I hesitated for over a month on tackling decolonization, even in the sort-of narrow scope in which we talked about it during the Decolonizing our Narrative Traditions panel at Flights of Foundry.

I figured eventually that I’d have to bite the bullet and go for it because some writing is better than no writing. It’s funny to me how I typically don’t get writer’s block when I’m working on a novel, but I’ll get stuffed up for blog posts. So here I am, unsticking the pipes (does this mean I should write a post about writer’s block?).

I’d been highly anticipating the decolonization panel since I found out I’d be on it, and it’s no secret why. I’m passionate about how colonialist and imperialist ideas filter into speculative fiction specifically, and I’m always excited to chat about this topic, especially with a moderator and panelists I like and admire. Our moderator was the wonderful Vida Cruz (vidacruz.org; here’s her Ways to Decolonize Your Fiction Writing presentation from FoF 2021), and I was joined by panelists Zhui Ning Chang (zhuiningchang.com), Fatima Taqvi (fatimataqvi.com), and Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki (odekpeki.com; congratulations go to Oghenechovwe again for his Nebula win for “O2 Arena”).
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Prior to the panel, Vida sent out a list of questions for us to peruse and possibly to discuss in the prep stage. I’ll admit that I prepped more for this panel than my other panels. I rarely write a full page of notes, but I went top to bottom in my notebook for this. And that was before I started addressing the questions Vida had sent. A look back at the email chain revealed our discussion of what exactly decolonizing our narrative traditions meant. Did it mean consciously removing colonialist and imperialist thinking? Did it mean exploring non-three-act structures and educating Westerners on what they were, their history, and what to expect? Did it mean creating fiction set in post-colonial worlds? (Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s no wonder I had a hard time finding a starting point for this blog post.)

We tried to address all the above questions during the panel, beginning with non-Western storytelling structures. By now, many people have heard of the East Asian four-act, which in Japanese is called kishoutenketsu (spelled here with an ou because I can’t for the life of me find the o with a macron) and in Chinese is called 起承轉結 (qǐ chéng zhuǎn jié, start/rise continue turn conclude), and Zhui Ning talked a bit about it. It’s the format that Henry Lien has lectured on (here’s a link to his blog post for SFWA: https://www.sfwa.org/2021/01/05/diversity-plus-diverse-story-forms-and-themes-not-just-diverse-faces/). For me personally, a structure that’s remained with me is less of a structure and more of a style, which is the episodic format that many Chinese epics use. For example, in the wuxia classic Legend of the Condor Heroes, each section has its own rising and falling action, which when compiled with the many other sections reveals an overall plot arc. Fatima talked about a Persian and Urdu epic form called dastan/dastaan, which I won’t elaborate on in this post because I’m not familiar with it! But the heart of it involves a Big Hero and a joker/jester sidekick character. And Oghenechovwe talked about how, growing up in Nigeria, he had access to Western science fiction and fantasy—demonstrating the reach of Western literary norms.

What I found quite interesting about the panel was when Oghenechovwe began talking about what decolonization in speculative fiction meant to him: a tight focus on local events, for example, and centering character. I’d go more into detail, but it’s been a couple of months and the memory is fuzzy. But then he dovetailed into climate fiction as decolonial, which, I admit, kind of blew my mind because of how correct he is. Cli-fi often involves a breakdown of social norms, a reshuffling of political and economic power, usually with movement to the extreme ends of the spectrum, and deals with local impacts of a changing climate or climate disaster. Climate fiction is growing increasingly popular these days, and it’s no surprise to me why that is: traditional publishing is overwhelmingly Western and white, and as climate change begins to threaten Western cities, more people are turning to cli-fi as a means of processing what might happen to them in the future. It’s inherently human not to care about an issue until it personally affects you, but it’s also indicative of how strongly the West centers itself when it comes to ongoing global crises. Perish the thought of New York City or Miami being lost to hurricanes or for Los Angeles to be lost to wildfires. Meanwhile, for many non-Western people, especially those in island nations, living on the coastlands of the Global South, or in zones where extreme weather already exists and is being exacerbated by temperature rises, climate fiction isn’t fiction but reality.

That brings me to what I wanted to address most on the panel but didn’t get to because of time constraints. Again, I’m a teacher at heart, and I always want to know concretely what something is and what to do about it. For some in attendance, the definition of colonialism remained murky, and thus the concept of decolonization couldn’t be grasped tightly because of the lack of definition. Our dictionary (Merriam-Webster, the industry standard) says thus:
 
co·lo·nial·ism, noun
inflected form(s): plural -s
1: the quality or state of being colonial
2: a custom, idiom, idea, notion, or style characteristic of a colony: provincialism
3: the aggregate of various economic, political, and social policies by which an imperial power maintains or extends its control over other areas or peoples: practice of or belief in acquiring and retaining colonies
 
It’s somewhat informative but doesn’t grant a larger picture. For myself, in my notes, I jotted down what I think are hallmarks of colonialism in SFF:

• Cultural suppression and cultural hegemony (which we did talk about on the panel)
• Economic exploitation and resource theft
• Class creation
• Stripping political power of original inhabitants

More specifically, I think these are the hallmarks of American and British imperialism/colonialism:

• Manifest destiny
• Individualism
• Proselytization and forced conversion to Christianity
• Reverse colonization narratives
• Lionizing the explorer/adventure fiction
• Belief in superiority (civilized and progressive people versus uncivilized and primitive peoples, assumption of wild or untamed lands)
• Racial supremacy

If you’re interested in the reverse colonization idea, I have to recommend David Higgins’s Reverse Colonization: Science Fiction, Imperial Fantasy, and Alt-Victimhood (https://www.uipress.uiowa.edu/books/9781609387846/reverse-colonization) where he explores how H. G. Wells’s War of the Worlds is a story based on colonial fear. In other words, what if the aliens (or the orcs) did to the West what the West does to non-Westerners? And how does that fear pervade much of what we in the West consider foundational twentieth-century speculative texts? Even if you read summaries or abstracts or the introduction of the book, it’s well worth your time.

These are big ideas to take in. After all, so much of science fiction and fantasy is about imagining another world, or about the movement of nations against each other on grand scales, or about how heroes must rise to fight against invading kingdoms. A lot of classic horror leans on the fear of becoming or encountering an Other or embracing a breakdown of societal structure. When we think about decolonizing SFFH, it might feel like an insurmountable task to toss these underpinnings.

But it’s not impossible. I’d encourage authors who want to interrogate the colonial assumptions of SFFH to start with one or two ideas. What happens, for example, if we do away with exploration stories or reframed exploration as a violent act? What role does direct conflict play, and can story events unfold without causality? What if we asked whether religion is necessary and whether it needs to have moral code or guide to “good” and “bad”? Is it necessary to spread religion? And from there, the next step might be asking what sovereignty means in a secondary world, or what importance borders have. What role does royalty play, and does royalty have a place in a secondary world? If there are classes based on wealth, where does the wealth come from and who does the labor to produce the wealth? Is any of that truly necessary? And if it is, what would you as the author like to say about those structures?

Try narrowing the scope to a village or town or city-state. Examine whether the political ideas championed by the West in the twentieth century are needed in this world. Western democracy, for example, isn’t always the best form of government and neither is monarchy. Delve into older structural forms that already exist in the West but have been erased by Hollywood’s cultural hegemony (or the English, or the French, or the Portuguese, or the Spanish, or whoever’s been conquering other people at any given time in Western European history). Imperialism touches us all, and Europeans are no exception. Be inspired by non-book structures, like two-act plays or Shakespeare’s five-acts. Look to folk tales, song cycles, or oral histories. I’m deliberately not speaking of non-Western forms here because I want marginalized authors to be centered within that space and to have the opportunity to tell their tales before getting Columbused by publishing.

And so it comes full circle back to what I as a Taiwanese American author might choose to write about or not write about. Taiwan is, in a word, complicated. I am the product of colonists who have had a long history of being colonized, and I was born in and currently live in an imperialist nation built on genocide and chattel slavery. Over the centuries, Taiwan has been colonized by the Chinese, the Portuguese, the Japanese, and the Chinese again, and only in the last several decades have the Taiwanese been able to self-determine and come to grips with their multiply-colonized history. Still, Chinese imperialism is both the mailed fist and the velvet glove. It’s an open violence and a subtle violence. Mandarin was my first language, not Taiwanese Hokkien, and that's because of the martial law imposed on Taiwan that banned Taiwanese from being spoken. When I consider my background, it can sometimes be incredibly depressing to see how deeply colonialism has impacted me and how I may unwittingly write that into my work, which necessitates a lot of thinking and turning story concepts over and over, sometimes for years.

But that’s how it goes, right? Decolonization is a moving target. All I can do is try not to mimic without thought and hope that others out there can begin to see how colonialism and imperialism is woven into our society—because once we can see clearly, a new horizon will open to us. And I look forward to reading fresh, exciting literature as a result.