One of my current writing projects—the one that is pulling at my sleeve most insistently at the moment—is not science fiction. It’s historical fiction. Is that a weird change of direction for me? Somehow, it doesn’t feel like it. 

This morning I searched out the following words from my writing hero, Ursula Le Guin. Her perspective gives me welcome insight into my writing transition. Le Guin begins her brief essay by acknowledging our conventional assumption that the future (the usual subject of science fiction) is what lies in front of us, while the past (the subject of historical fiction) lies behind us. 

“It seems that the Quechua-speaking peoples of the Andes see all this rather differently. They figure that because the past is what you know, you can see it—it’s in front of you, under your nose. This is a mode of perception rather than action, of awareness rather than progress. Since they’re quite as logical as we are, they say that the future lies behind—behind your back, over your shoulder. The future is what you can’t see, unless you turn around and kind of snatch a glimpse. And then sometimes you wish you hadn’t, because you’ve glimpsed what’s sneaking up on you from behind….” (“Science Fiction and the Future” in Dancing at the Edge of the World, 1989) 

As I continue reading and researching the history of the American South (especially Mississippi) and the history of Scotland, both entangled in my own family history, I begin to see our future more clearly. I hope my story can bring the same kind of clarity to my readers. 

Le Guin, Ursula K.. Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places (p. 215). Grove Atlantic. Kindle Edition.