August 2026 – Treehouse Writers

So I saw a post on social media about an unnamed but well-respected writer who has apparently suggested that, as a way of making a living in a world that doesn’t pay enough for their actual work, writers should use LLMs to write “romantasy.”

The poster – also a writer – made the important point that since one would have to edit the LLM work, the writer would end up incorporating some of that style into their own work. (The poster is also a writing instructor who discourages the use of LLMs by their students because of its effect on their writing and also because reading LLM prose is deeply boring.)

But what struck me was that the first writer, who otherwise does their own work and wants respect for that, must consider romantasy a trash genre. I doubt they read it and if they do, it is with contempt. I’m sure they wouldn’t publish it under their own name.

So I guess outsourcing writing of “commercial trash” to LLMs is the current version of “learn how to crank out something that’s easy to write” to pay the bills.

Many years ago, when I was just setting out in the world and looking for a way to make a living that wasn’t too stressful so that I could explore my own writing and other passions, I checked a book out of the library on how to write romance.

I mean, romance is notoriously formulaic. I have been told repeatedly by people who write it and read it that there are basic rules you cannot break. It should be easy to write. Right?

Yeah, well no. Because what dawned on me then was that I couldn’t write romance because I don’t read it. I mean, I occasionally read it, and I don’t object to a good love story, but on the whole I’m not interested in stories in which the plot revolves around the characters falling in love and living happily ever after.

An occasional romantic comedy, sure. Jane Austen, of course – but then Jane Austen wrote horror, not romance. (I get cold shudders every time I think of a world that bars Elinor Dashwood from well-paid and useful occupation.)

I came around to the understanding that you can’t write fiction you don’t read and you really can’t write fiction you don’t like. I somehow doubt anyone who’s making money writing romance hates the genre.

As a result, I don’t write romance. Or tie-in novels. Or literary fiction about young editorial assistants having affairs with senior editors. (Especially that last one.) Continue reading “Writing What You Don’t Love”…

Now It Can Be (Partly) Told

by Madeleine Robins

August 5, 2026August 4, 2026

The list is out, and my work is done.

I have been, since November, reading as a judge for the World Fantasy Awards. There are stacks and stacks (and stacks, and stacks and stacks) of books in my living room, my bedroom, my garage. As of this week the other judges and I have turned in the slate and it has been made public. Our work is pretty much done, except for keeping our mouths shut until the awards are given at the World Fantasy Convention in October.

If anyone ever asks if you’d like to be a judge–consider saying Yes. Also, consider saying No. It is a huge undertaking. We received over 300 novels, about 75 novellas, I’ve’-lost-count-of-how-many short fiction entries, plus anthologies, collections, and a fascinating hodge-podge of works for the Special Award categories. Even with five judges (each work is seen by at least two of the judges) it’s a pretty massive undertaking. I was fortunate that my fellow judges (Ann VanderMeer, Richard Thomas, Chịkọdịlị Emelụmadụ, and Tamsyn Muir) were all smart funny people who were willing to dig in and do the work. We did not agree on every work (there were a couple of books I read early on that I thought were great, but the best I was able to get from the other readers was that they could see why I thought the books were great but they were less than thrilled). But when one of the other judges posts something like “Holy Shit, this is a great book!” you want to look at it right away.

The World Fantasy Award encompasses fantasy, horror, and a sort of catchall of weird, slipstream, and magical realism. It does not include Science Fiction, which is well represented and awarded elsewhere. I am not much of a horror reader, but I came to have a new appreciation for the genre. And there are a number of works I read that were an intriguing mix of two or more genres that put me in mind of the players in Hamlet, working in combinations of pastoral-comical-historical etc. And I have to say that I have a new awe for the range of talent, and of reach in the Fantasy/Horror field. A lot of great work out there.

As I said: consider saying Yes: you will be exposed to what is best in the field. You will be inspired and impressed, and you will get to work with great people. Consider also saying No: I got no writing done from November until the end of July, barring only posts in the Treehouse and necessary correspondence. My brain was filled with other peoples’ stories. And because I am me, and a compulsive stage manager, I wound up deploying a lot of spreadsheets to keep track of what came in, who was reading what, who thought what of which, and what had to happen next. It’s a lot.

Still: consider saying Yes. But you have been warned.

To Count or Not to Count

by Gillian Polack

August 3, 2026

I am in a paperwork week and nearly wrote you an analysis of the Australian Census. Not the use of the census material, but how the form is structured. In vast detail and terrifying depth. By this, you know I am in the middle of a great deal of paperwork. When the end of the paperwork is in sight, then I’ll feel less tendency to analyse data and explain archival methods. I say this very firmly, because I was once that person and haven’t been for a while and while I totally enjoyed that work, everyone around me missed the Middle Ages and bad jokes and passing comments about historical foodstuffs.

Our census is, technically, tomorrow week. This is our first mostly-online one and a vast number of people are not waiting for census night. We’ve been told we don’t have to wait so we race and fill everything in and then walk around with an air of conscious virtue. I sometimes suspect that Australians like filling in forms and being counted. We certainly like our compulsory vote, which is another way of filling in forms and being counted. Politics is so different in countries where voting is optional.

We won’t have decent answers to census questions until June next year. Questions people are asking in my vicinity include how many people will write their religion down as “Jedi” and their second language as “Klingon.” Other folks want to know what answers will be given to the question of gender, which is not a simply binary this time around. We will find out how people describe themselves in gender terms and have a better understanding of how much of Australia sees themselves.

One of the most concerning questions the census folk are asking is how many Jews will feel safe enough this year to write our religion down. The Jewish community was given a special briefing on Sunday evening where we could ask some very senior bods how the data is handled. This is how I know it’s a burning question.

In ten months’ time (if I remember) I will share some answers. Until then, I myself will live in unsatiated curiosity. Australia has changed significantly since the last census. Watch this space?