Last month at MileHiCon in Denver, I got drafted into the “flash fiction chopped” competition after a couple of scheduled contestants pulled no-shows.
Action Shot: Me, mid-story, chronicling a romance between a dog and a lighthouse…as you do (Photo: HC Werner)
The rules were simple. The audience, improve-style, supplied the contestants with a protagonist, a location, and a complication. The competing authors then had eight minutes to write a story incorporating those elements. Afterward, each author read their story aloud and the audience voted one of the authors “off the island.” Lather, rinse, repeat until only one author remained.
As it turns out, I was that author.
I’ve gotten way more interest on social media about this than I expected, so I thought I’d share my flash fic compositions with anyone who was interested enough in the initial post to check them out. [In the interest of full disclosure, I have done some very basic clean-up on the selections to correct spelling, punctuation, and the occasional omitted article.]
To give this all a pretense of substance, I’ve also added a short section at the end, discussing some of the lessons I’ve taken away from this session which may be useful to those of you who find yourselves in similar competitions.
(CAVEAT: For those of you who may be encountering my writing for the first time through this post, these selections are not representative of my published writing)
ROUND ONE
Protagonist: The Haunted Woman
Location: Evergreen, Colorado
Complication: Stuck in Traffic
Julia, the haunted woman, presumably (Image: Not HotPot AI’s best work).
Julia had gotten use to ghosts. She had seen them childhood, since an unfortunate accident involving a vending machine and a tarot deck. But ghostly road construction, outside was something new. Up ahead, just outside of Evergreen, Colorado, she could see the construction workers, or rather see through them, as the road was shut down and a truck loaded with used furniture and a VW microbus idled in front of her.
The other drivers were freaked out, their reactions ranging from catatonia to panic and praying. But Julia was the haunted woman. This being old hat, she flagged down the ghost who seems to be in charge. “What’s going on” she asked?
“Road ghosts,” the ghost in charge explained, as it that explained everything.
“Road ghosts?” Julia repeated.
“What did I call them when I was alive?” the ghost took the ghostly cigar out of his mouth, and looked thoughtful. “Pot holes. He paused. “Think about it, pot holes are basically the ghosts of a road. They have their own stories, their own lives, their own pathways to becoming to ghosts.”
“That’s great,” Julia said, “but I’m really trying to get to some town in Colorado the author has heard of.” And then, because the author hadn’t finished his story, a giant machine came out of the sky moved Julia and the rest of the cars past the construction.
ROUND TWO
Protagonist: A sentient attack drone
Location: A deserted beach
Complication: Too many spiders.
BOB (Big Old Bomb) talks with The Spiders. (Image: HotPot AI)
Big Old Bomb, BOB for short, the sentient attack drone, was enjoying its first vacation since the supreme court (not our currently supreme court, obviously,) ruled that AI entities, devices, automata and machines were covered by the same labor laws, including a minimum of two week’s vacation, as everyone else.
A standard query search had indicated humans often liked to vacation on beaches, so BOB thought it would start there. The same search indicated that the combined presence of red tide and medical waste would reduce prices. That seemed to have worked, the prices were low. And the beach was restful. It was, in fact, deserted. BOB had taken long walks by itself. It had read Sartre. It had argued with strangers, including other sentient attack drones, on the internet.
By the fourth day, BOB was bored. It decided to checked out the small beach-side cabaret, the only other place that seemed to be inhabited. A jazz quartet was followed by a flamenco dancer, who was followed by a woman playing the euphonium while reciting limericks in dead languages. The compere then announced the headliner, a rock act. The singer had spiky orange-ish hair, pale skin, and elaborate face makeup. His backup band, the Spiders, were nowhere to be found. “But where are the spiders?” BOB asked and went to go look for them,
He found them all behind the cabaret smoking. The Spiders, too many Spiders, an excess of Spiders, in fact. “Why aren’t you at the gig?” BOB asked.
“Our singer is impossible,” one of the Spiders said, “Always making love with his ego.” So BOB became the Spiders’ new lead singer. And the rest, as they say, is rock ‘n’ roll history.
ROUND THREE
Protagonist: A dog
Location: A lonely lighthouse.
Complication: a burnt bundt cake
A love story for the ages (Image: HotPot AI)
It was the kind of love story you remember you entire life, a classic love story, between a dog who happened to be a conductor of the Philadelphia Philharmonic orchestra and a lonely light house. Of course the lighthouse was lonely, it was a lighthouse, it’s hard to meet people when you’re a lighthouse. Except lighthouse keepers, but they’re the bad boys of recluse and hermit set, all moroseness, all tragedy and posturing … no long walks on the beach, no poetry.
So the light house decided to put its presence out there, like a beacon. Its profile, its dating profile, was very visible, especially to ships traversing the coast at night. But it also reached the wall of the living room of the room where the dog lived. The dog barked out its response, but the lighthouse could not hear. The only people who could hear were the dog’s owners. Damn it, Princess. Go to sleep! they said.
The beacon returned, again the dog professed its love. Again, came the cry, Damn it, Princess go to sleep!!
Again, the beacon returned. Again the dog professed its love. Damn it, Princess go outside!!!
And so her owners let Princess outside. The dog ran, in obligatory slow motion, with soft lighting, a wind machine blowing its fur. You know the scene, you’ve seen it a million times. You can even hear the sound track, take a moment, in your mind, to pick out the perfect song.
“Shit!” the author said, his authorial voice full of conflict, “there was supposed to be a burned bundt cake in here somewhere.”
So, what did I learn?
I want to be clear, I don’t think I won “flash fiction chopped” because I was churning out the highest quality prose at the front table. In fact, I think this was distinctly not the case. In that case, why did I win? What was I doing that put me over the top of competitors who were actually putting out better writing? What can you learn from my experience that might help you if you find yourself in a similar situation? I think there are three things to note here.
Read the Room
Sitting down at my laptop, my impression was that we had an audience in the mood for goofy fun rather than stirring prose. This seemed confirmed when, after the first round, the audience voted to eliminate the author who had written (in my opinion) the best, tightest story but one that was played absolutely straight. If you want to win, write what your judges want.
Performance Matters
Something I realized, which I think some of my competitors missed, is that those four words, “read your selections aloud,” changed everything. That made the competition at least as much about showmanship as authorship.
A Weak Ending is Better Than No Ending
The first thing I did, after writing the opening paragraph, was to write a conclusion. I think having an ending, even if not a very good or even germane one, made my stories feel tighter than some others that were actually better written but stopped abruptly when our eight minutes were up.
Most of my readers will be familiar with Madeleine D’Este, a frequent guest poster who is always happy to feed my hunger for ‘official playlists’ for authors’ new works. With Madeleine riding high on her recent mystery novella, Radcliffe, with one award, another nomination outstanding, and great buzz, I thought it was time to invite Madeleine to join me for a deep-dive Q&A.
Q: Thanks for joining us. Most of my readers are familiar with you, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked a “background” question. Tell us about Madeleine D’Este. Who are you?
A: I’m a writer, reviewer and podcaster from Melbourne who spent her formative years in Tasmania. To date, I’ve written steampunk, historical fantasy, supernatural mysteries and psychological horror. I like to write dark complex women, the paranormal and a juicy plot twist. When not writing, I knit socks, I run and I read…a lot.
I started writing seriously about ten years ago, despite always wanting to be a writer. Before that I’d dabbled, done a bunch of courses, completed Nanowrimo a number of times and got distracted by career crap, until I decided I HAD to do it. And I’ve been lucky enough to be nominated for an Australian Shadow Award (in 2019) and an Aurealis Award (in 2023).
Q: Your novella Radcliffe, has been nominated for an Aurealis Award, congratulations. I know there’s already been some buzz about Radcliffe, including the award for Best Mystery Novel in the international Critters Readers Choice competition. So, tell us about Radcliffe?
A: Thank you, it’s super exciting. Radcliffe is a gothic tale of a weird building full of weird women during a Melbourne heatwave. When Tamsin follows a Voice telling her that ‘death is coming’ to the doors of a tumbledown apartment building named Radcliffe, she knows she has to save someone. But who?
Q: Radcliffe is really driven by its six characters, whom I find wonderful and horrible all at once. Tell us a little bit about each of them and how they took shape in your mind along with the story itself?
A: Wonderful and horrible’ … I’m so glad!
Accountant Tamsin is a seeker – someone who’s life has been dull, full of spreadsheets and Netflix, until one day she hears a voice. No one believes her but she is determined that she has been given a gift.
The other residents of Radcliffe are Bunty, Cecily, Riko, Defne and Gail. Retired ballerina Bunty is flamboyant but sometimes confused. After a life of drama, is she manifesting more strife to keep boredom away? Student Cecily is curious but with the false confidence of youth. Bunty’s granddaughter, she takes a clinical interest in the weird women of Radcliffe. Musician Riko is stand-offish and carries a burden of shame. Bunty dislikes her, but why? Unpredictable photographer Defne finds solace from her disappointing divorce in making grotesque art. Romance writer Gail is rarely seen and her background is the source of wild speculation by the other residents. But when the police come looking for her, is the gossip true?
Tamsin takes a flat in Radcliffe to try to find which of the complicated women ‘death is coming’ for.
The opulence of gold-rush era Melbourne.
Q: Radcliffe showcases your gift for settings which are simultaneously quirky and believable. You’ve done this on scales as large as the steampunk Melbourne of Antics of Evangeline and Women of Wasps and War’s Duchy of Ambrovna to as small as the single eponymous building of Radcliffe or the high school of The Flower and the Serpent, somewhere in between is the rural Victorian town of Ludwood in Bloodwood. I’m curious about your process for conceptualizing settings and bringing them to life.
A: The ‘place’ is always a main character in my writing and it gets as much attention as all the people. Ever since reading The Hobbit or The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge as a child, I’ve adored lush descriptions of the surroundings, and I enjoy writing them too. I’ve also made a conscious effort to take existing tropes and put them into an Australian setting e.g. vampires in the Victorian bush (Bloodwood), steampunk in Marvellous Melbourne (Antics) and gothic in an inner city rundown building during a heatwave (Radcliffe).
Q: I’ve been reading your work since lucking into a copy of The Flower and the Serpent. In that time, I’ve noted some recurring themes, motifs, and tropes in your work. Can you talk about some of these?
A: You might be able to answer that better than I can! I tend to write about women seeking redemption, with a burning desire to prove themselves and people who struggle to fit in. The return of sins of the past is a recurring theme, and I always love to add in descriptions of food. And all my works contain some type of folklore or Fortean element from alchemists to mummies to witches, sigils, demons, vampires and auditory psychics in an Australian setting.
Q: I have a fondness for your YA series, The Antics of Evangeline. In addition to its other qualities, Melbourne during the Victorian gold rush is such a natural setting for steampunk, I can’t believe I’d never seen it done before. Talk a little bit about Antics and how it fits into your overall body of work.
A: Evangeline started out as an ‘amuse bouche’ when I was writing something more serious (which is now languishing on old hard drives). Inspired by Kim Newman’s Anno Dracula and Gail Carriger, I wanted to bring steampunk to my home city with a thick layer of silliness and adventure. Evangeline is a seventeen-year-old ex-urchin, acrobat and inventress during the Gold Rush days of Melbourne. Along with her father, the Professor and her best friend Mei, she faces off against an Alchemist, a Bunyip and other foes. And she loves cake.
Q: Compared with much of your work, I see relatively little discussion of The Women of Wasps and War. Yet this is a very powerful, if unsettling, story and one that explicitly voices some themes of your work which are usually a little more implicit. To give that novel a little more spotlight, talk to us about it.
A: Women of Wasps and War is a historical fantasy novel, inspired by a true story following WW1, where a group of women were disappointed when their horrible husbands came back from war. And so they took justice into their own hands. This is my most political piece to date.
Agata, the Duchess of Ambrovna, was never meant to take the throne. In a land where men rule, her sole purpose was to smile and curtsey. However, when war left her land leaderless, the Fatherhood religion begrudgingly allowed a first; a woman to rule. Now the war is over the men have returned more arrogant and cruel than ever, and the Duchess is shoved back into a life of needlework and silence.
But with her new thirst for justice, Agata is reluctant to allow her country to return to its old ways. Without her position of power, Agata and her circle of women look to the taboo wisdom of the Wasp Women for answers. But this ancient knowledge comes with consequences, and with death and treachery on the horizon, Agata must decide whether it is worth the risk.
Q: I know you contribute to the speculative fiction community in ways other than writing. Let’s hear about your involvement there.
A: As I mentioned I love to read and I host a weekly (very short) book review podcast on Art District Radio called ‘Dark Mysteries’, focusing on crime, thrillers and mysteries (with the occasional horror snuck in).
From 2017-2020, I hosted and produced ‘Write Through The Roof’, a podcast for writers who want to improve their craft where I interviewed a bunch of interesting writers on their process and works. You can find both podcasts on most podcasting platforms.
Writers, Ernest Hemmingway and Madeleine D’Este have bad news for you about first drafts…
Q: What advice would you give to young authors, just now starting out – especially those who look at your work and say, “I’d like to do something like that.”
A: Unfortunately, it’s a lot of hard work and there’s no short cuts. I’d suggest to work out what motivates you. For example, are you a nerdy Capricorn like me who is internally motivated? Then you can set yourself targets e.g. 500 words per day. Or are you someone who needs to work with others? Then you might benefit from a writing group or regular write-ins to keep you on track.
And just write. Oh, and remember ‘first drafts are always shit’. I think Hemingway said that.
Q: What are you currently working on?
A: I have three works-in-progress at the moment, in various stages of polish; a dual timeline historical fiction (shock horror with nothing supernatural!), a psychological thriller set in a commune and an ‘undercover cop in a cult’ thriller.
Of course, there is never enough time on a panel to get out everything you want to say (unless you’re willing to risk becoming one of those panelists), so I thought I’d put some of my extra thoughts into a piece here.
While capers are not my bread and butter, I do have a toe in the genre. My novelette, “A Scandal in Hollywood” is a counter-caper (see terminology, below) featuring actor Basil Rathbone stepping into the shoes of his most famous role, Sherlock Holmes, to thwart an existential threat to 1940s Tinsel Town. “Scandal” is a tongue-in-cheek love letter to Holmes and Doyle that was voted “Best Short Story of 2018 (all other genres)” in the P&E Readers Choice Poll. You can find it in the anthology Silver Screen Sleuths from 18th Wall Productions.
Speaking more to the panel’s focus, I’ve written a Weird West/light steampunk caper novella, The Clash at Crush (which my publisher assures me will be out any day now). Set against the backdrop of H.G. Wells’ War of the Words, “Clash” indulges my fondness for historical cameos with three historical figures among the caper crew and introduces an atypica wrinkle when Martian tripods inconveniently show up as the caper reaches its climax.
Obligatory Note on Terminology
It’s the Italian Job … but it is an Italian Heist or an Italian Caper?
The terms caper and heist are often used interchangeably. But is there a difference? And if so, what is it? Mark Finn posits the difference between the two is that humor is a key element of capers but mostly absent in heists. That’s a division I find both intriguing and useful, and one I continue to ponder. But the one I have used and, at least to this point, continue to use is that in a heist, the target is always a tangible object and material and the crew’s plans emphasize the physical and technological. A heist is, in essence, always a burglary – no matter how fancy. In a caper, however, the crew’s ultimate goal may or may not be a something physical, and elements of social engineering (Con jobs, impersonation, blackmail, whatever.) play a much larger role.
There is also the counter-caper story, where the antagonists are planning and executing the caper and it falls to the heroes to foil them. While one could technically subdivide this into counter-caper and counter-heist categories, I will use counter-caper to serve for both.
My Favorite SF/F Caper Canon (and Horror, too!)
There is arguably a streak of sci-fi even to many capers set in what is ostensibly the modern, mundane world. These stories often involve very-near-future, clearly-on-the-horizon technology or deploy existing technology in creative ways which sometimes stretches credibility. With so many capers showcasing talents, expertise, or technology that stretches the believable, it’s only a short hop to introducing magic and technology.
Cyberpunk’s persistent shadow economy of highly skilled experts is perfect for capers/heists.
That been said, many classic caper/heist stories explicitly fall under science fiction or fantasy:
Going all the way back to that foundational classic of the genre, Neuromancer (an assembled crew of criminals and other experts on the margins of society steal the hardcopy of downloaded consciousness), it would be difficult to find a cyberpunk story where a credible case cannot be made for it being a caper/heist.
But Sci-fi capers are not limited to the near future or the morally ambiguous confines of cyberpunk. A New Hope is rife with caper/heist elements: escaping Tatooine, helping Leia escape the Death Star, and the off-screen caper of Bothan spies acquiring plans for the Death Star (which, of course, makes Rogue One a caper story as well – and, while it may not be a great Star Wars story, it’s a good caper story).
Star Trek IV may be one of the most unique caper stories in any genre. Not only does it piggyback time travel on top of science fiction, but its heist object (a pair of humpback whales) is as distinctive as it is unforgettable.
Speaking of Star Trek, the normally straight-laced, goody-goody Next Generation bangs out an incredibly smart, funny caper story with a healthy dose of meta in the season two episode “The Royale:” [Oversimplification Alert] The crew of The Enterprise becomes trapped in a pocket universe created by aliens based on a (fictional) caper novel also called “The Royale.” As their only sample of human culture, the aliens are under the mistaken impression that the third-rate novel reflects humanity’s preferred lifestyle. Ultimately, to escape the pocket universe, the away- team has to successfully pull off the caper referenced in the novel.
Heist Crew, Hyperborean style.
Fantasy takes to caper/heist stories very early in its history. Many of Fritz Leiber’s stories of Fafhard and The Gray Mouser revolve around capers or heists. Especially notable in this regard are “Ill Met in Lankhmar, “Jewels in the Forest,” and “Bazaar of the Bizarre.” Similar tropes can be found in Howard’s Conan stories. These are on full display with the 1982 pastiche film adaptation of Howard’s most famous creation, Conan the Barbarian, as Conan’s party (crew?) sneaks into the Snake Tower to steal a legendary jewel and then penetrates Thulsa Doom’s temple complex.
Caper Crew, Florin style.
Conan isn’t the only overlap of fantasy and caper among 80’s cinema classics. The Princess Bride is an excellent caper story (and one of the best and most endearing examples anywhere of how “assembling the crew” can become an adventure in its own right). The same, of course, can be said of William Goldmann’s original novel, though I would argue the caper flavor is more explicit in the movie than the book.
Horror also offers us at least one noteworthy entry. Lovecraft’s “The Curious Case of Charles Dexter Ward” is a classic counter-caper narrative with diabolic antagonists Joseph Curwen and crew engaged in multiple capers: their body-snatching and necromancy ring as well as their efforts to keep the Curwen’s resurrection a secret and return him to his former glory. Conversely, the protagonists, led by Marinus Bicknell Willet are trying to thwart those plots (at which they are ultimately successful) and preserve young Charles Dexter Ward’s life (at which they are not).
The Lord of the Stings
The author of a famous caper story?
More than a few people have argued for The Hobbit as a caper story. I respectfully disagree. True, the whole segment at the Lonely Mountain with Smaug is definitely a caper/heist. However, while that is the company’s ultimate goal, it is only a small part of the story as measured both by page count and emotional journey. It would be like a version of Oceans 11 where the main characters spend the first 90 minutes driving to the casino.
On the other hand, I see a much stronger case for Lord of the Rings as a caper story: the crew spreads out across Middle Earth using stealth, guile, magic (gadgets), and the occasional bit of muscle with the ultimate goal of sneaking the McGuffin of Power through Mordor to Mount Doom.
(Somehow, I suspect the notion that he might have written a caper story would send Tolkien spinning in this grave).
Meanwhile Back in Our World
And, because it doesn’t really seem to fit anywhere else, two my favorite non-SFF caper stories are both from the world of 90s cinema. A third comes from prime time cartoons.
“All he’s asking for is peace on earth and goodwill toward men,” Martin Bishop, Sneakers.
Sneakers (1992) has a cast that has to be seen to be believed: Robert Redford, Sydney Poitier, Ben Kingsley, Dan Aykroyd, River Phoenix, and Stephen Tobolowsky (you might know him as Ned … Rhyerson!).
Hudson Hawk (1991) is admittedly a tough one to classify. It does have hints of magic (or at least alchemy) and miracles alongside a dose of clock-punk, but takes such a light touch with them that I feel it round up to a real-world, if very cinematic, reality. While technically a ‘90s film, Hudson Hawk, in all its glorious cheese, actually has more of an ‘80s aesthetic.
Two decades later, in 23rd season of The Simpsons, the episode “The Book Job” sees a motley collection of Springfield residents collaborate on a get-rich-quick scheme to publish a young adult novel, which turns into a caper when the group is screwed over by their publisher. An appearance by Neil Gaiman, playing himself as the crew’s Ringer, transforms an already strong story into something truly special.
Why Do We Love Caper Stories (And Why Do I)? The Big Picture
At their most fundamental, caper stories are underdog stories. Crews run the gamut from lovable rogues with hearts of gold to full-blown anti-heroes in all their amoral glory. Exposition sets up social contexts in which there are perceived winners and losers, in groups and out groups, enforcers and renegades, underdogs and overlords. But caper stories play with the ambiguity and fuzzy corners of those worlds. With the right crew, a good plan, and a little bit of luck, the underdogs can come out on top.
Definitely Underdogs and Outsider (Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels)
Caper stories further endear themselves to us because, rather than brawn or superior resources, in capers the underdogs almost always triumph by being cleverer than their opponents. Most of us don’t have phenomenal strength or martial prowess among our assets, but we like to think of ourselves as clever. It’s enjoyable to see a little of ourselves in the caper crew and wonder “hey, could we do that?”
A final part of the genre’s appeal is the humor which permeates so many of these stories. This emphasis on humor serves several roles: it diffuses tension, it showcases the close relationship between members of the crew, and it gives further evidence of that all-important “cleverness.” It also underscores the underdog and “loveable rogue” nature of protagonists.
Why Do We Love Caper Stories (And Why Do I)? The Details
One of the reasons we all love Caper/Heist stories is that we know them, their tropes, their characters. But that doesn’t mean that every one of those aspects resonates with each personal equally.
For me, the most exciting part of caper stories is assembling the crew, with its rich spiderweb different and sometimes conflicting experiences, backstories, and assumptions somehow all coming together to pull off “the job.” In terms of my personal enjoyment of caper stories, the completion of crew feels like the climax of the story. Everything else is just denouement.
Another joy for me are the social interactions between the caper crew and the forces of law (order, the establishment, whatever you want to call them). That’s one reason I tend to favor caper stories with heavy social engineering/con aspect to them.
But we’re talking specifically about Capers/Heists in science fiction and fantasy. In those genres, on a meta-level, I enjoy seeing how exposition is handled (and sometimes mishandled).
When a caper/heist is set in the mundane present day, or even a well understood historical period, a lot of exposition can be omitted. Readers/viewers already understand the technology, the traps, the weapons, law enforcement, and the social and economic relationships well enough to fill in the gaps. But when the caper is sci-fi or fantasy, all those axiomatic elements are now up in the air. What does magic allow? What does new technology allow? How do law enforcement and the legal system work? What are the social and economic relationships informing the caper?
This is a challenging tightrope for authors to walk. We have to explain how all the caper tropes apply to the world in question so that the plot points feel earned and twists believable … without throwing up giant “Chekov’s Gun” red flags while doing so.
To illustrate that point by going a little ad absurdum, if an author informs us that “the three-headed hounds of Gnarr are the realm’s most fearsome guard animals but, when both moons are full in twain, the hounds are afraid of flying shrews,” the reader can safely assume that’s going to come up later. The challenge is seeding that information so that, when the crew uses the musk of flying shrews to bypass the evil Duke’s three-headed hound, it was not obvious ahead of time but still feels earned when it occurs.
On Gadgets
Gadgets are not only a major trope of caper/heist stories, they are huge part of their fun. Unless a caper story is very strong in other areas, the lack of any sort of gadgetry, technical wizardry, or Rube Goldberg-esque silliness is going to be keenly felt. However, for science fiction and fantasy capers, the challenges of exposition go double for gadgets.
More broadly, creators need to balance the sense of wonder gadgets create in a reader/viewer without leaning on them to heavily for support. I would hesitate to utilize more than one major gadget or two or three minor ones in the course of a story. The more heavily a story features gadgets, the more important it becomes to balance the narrative scales a bit. Perhaps the forces of the establishment have gadgets of their own to throw at the crew. Or maybe one of the crew’s gadgets fails, possibly in a spectacular fashion.
So … you need a gadget?
Thoughts on Writing Capers
First, to support the genre’s tropes and conventions, a certain level of social complexity and technological development in the world is required – say at least equivalent to earth’s Bronze Age. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying there’s no way to write a Neolithic heist or a caper story involving egalitarian hunter-gatherers, but I’d love to read it, because I don’t know how you’d do it. (As I’m typing this, I’m realizing that Quest for Fire is basically a fantasy Neolithic heist story, with fire as the heist object. So maybe treat my preceding statement as a loose guideline).
As with any form of genre fiction, don’t bust your ass trying to come up with something nobody’s ever seen before, because its an almost impossible task. Rather, spend that time thinking about combining the elements you love in fresh and exciting ways. Don’t be afraid of tropes, they’re not necessarily your enemy. After all, those tropes are at the heart of the comforting feel that people seem to like about capers/heists. We know these stories and that’s a big part of why we love them.
With advanced technology and other areas of niche expertise playing such a strong role in caper stories, many authors anguish over the appropriate level of detail, research, and accuracy needed. These are valid questions but, as with so many aspects of writing, don’t let the perfect become the enemy of the good. Write to the level you’re comfortable with. If you’re already published, you know the level your audience will enjoy. If you are not yet published, write to the level of the audience you want.
I cannot stress this enough: Unless you are a world-class expert in cryptography, information security, digital intrusion, etc., no matter how much legwork you do, you are not going to be write to a level that will satisfy every reader. If you try, you’re going to lose a lot of the people you really want, so steel yourself and ignore the handful who will never be satisfied.
Where are Capers Going?
In moderating the panel, Lauren Taffeau made there interesting observation that:
We’re going through a period in history right now where it feels like espionage and other crimes are happening right out in the open instead of all the cloak and dagger from an earlier age.
In light of those developments, Tafffeau posed the question
How have current events changed expectations for writing capers?
This is an interesting and important question, and one where I admit to not having much in the way of concrete answers. We may very well see that kind of open, smarmy malfeasance reflected in the kinds of targets caper crews go up against, using classic caper skills to hit those targets on the back end. On the other hand, it’s possible we may see crews engaging more openly as well. We could see the emergency of the “spin doctor” as a variation on the traditional “face” archetype in crews (for a rather prescient foretaste of what this could look like, check out the antihero crew of the 1997 dark comedy Wag the Dog).
Jon Black Writes 