The culture of the coyotes feels a lot more interesting to me than dog-level violence or the mechanics of transformation. Especially in the way romance in America can blur the borders that insulate a subculture. Like the first time Sarah came to one of my Protestant family’s witch burnings.

The Age of Big Data is upon us, and the externalization of our inner life and the outsourcing of our mental processes to technology are long-term trends. Do these trends free us to be more creative, more caring, more human? Or do they make us more dependent, more isolated, less human? Different temperaments and vantage points will lead us to give different answers.

I grew up Mormon in Utah, so I was part of a fairly intensive religion in a state where it was the dominant cultural influence. It thought of itself as a day-to-day religion more than a Sunday religion, and so infected a good part of one’s other activities. Now I’m an excommunicated Mormon and am fairly far outside of it, but am still fascinated not only with religion but with the ways community forms around religious belief.

Any story has an agenda, a point of view. And a folk tale/fairy tale has a very strong one, molded over centuries. After Perrault made the fairy tale into a literary form, writers used stories in this genre to advance what they saw as good manners and a proper way of life. The stories become quite elegant even when compared to the Grimms’ tales, which were cleaned up for 19th century consumption.

The idea was not so much virtual reality, but augmented reality. I’ve been really intrigued by adding a pair of goggles that overlay digital data over existing objects in the real world (virtual reality inside out, so to speak). You can see the effect using the app AcrossAir for the iPhone. What is more interesting to me is what we’ll do when we gamify augmented reality.

Just about my favorite turning point in history regards Henry VII and his sons, and the fact that the one who would become Henry VIII was the second son, and not originally meant to become king. How different would it all have turned out, with King Arthur instead of King Henry VIII?

I’ve long been interested in the topic of human biochemistry and personal responsibility, not least because of the many dumb things that I’ve done under the influence of adrenaline. We like to believe we’re rational decision makers, but rationality depends on a delicate biochemical balance that fails when we need it most. The fight-or-flight response enables some amazing physical feats, but it also largely shuts down the brain, so you act on instinct.

For a few years, I had been thinking that I wasn’t living up to the full potential of fantasy in my fantasy stories, as far as how far I was willing to push the speculative elements. In science fiction, you have an obligation to reality and believability, but in fantasy, what “reality” means is much more flexible.

Why did I pick Venus? The story is about love, and Venus is the planet of love. I’m not sure why I made it the old, wet Venus of pulp science fiction. But I grew up with that Venus, and I liked it.

I’m an innate pessimist, and tend to think that most noble goals can only remain so in principle: carnage and misery form a very large part of how things come to fruition—not only in the maintaining of empires, but also for things that might seem noble, like self-defence or even the attainment of freedom and equality.