I have been asked many times where I get my ideas. There seems to be two assumptions most readers have.

One is that I take ideas from fiction and try and do them my way. So far this has only been true in Little Feet Going Nowhere, which is my version of an Alice B. Sheldon story titled The Screwfly Solution. I thought Alice had such a fantastic concept, and rendered it so low key, that I should try my hand at the idea of aliens treating us like pestilential insects.

The other is that I am a psychotic fantasist, who infuses his lead characters with his own desires and permits them to live out his fantasies through the storyline. This has only been true in Menthol Rampage, when I recently sublimated my very real urge to kill every cigarette smoker in sight, by sitting down and writing the rampage instead of embarrassing my mother on the evening news.

So, how do I come up with all of these ‘demented’ stories, as my mother calls them? [And I only let her read stuff like Soter’s Way and Buzz Bunny. She’s not getting anywhere near By This Axe! or God of War.]

Most of my fiction is inspired by nonfiction, by the many real lives, places and events I have read about, or experienced. The balance is inspired—and this happens together in the same piece usually—by my fantasies, such as living in the future, or in another time, or of being a time-traveler, extra-solar colonist, etc.

It is very rare for me to be inspired by fiction. I do, however read a lot of fiction. Some fiction, like Tolkien, I read for pure enjoyment. Much fiction I read just to keep up on what type of material is being published out there. I do have my influences; authors I have and do read as an instructional guide on the craft of writing. We call these writers our ‘influences’. Below are mine, from first to most recent.

Edgar Rice Burroughs I read for pace. I devoured over three dozen of his books as a boy. He taught me how to get the reader to turn the page.

Robert E. Howard is my favorite author, the king of atmospheric fantasy. I try to do what he accomplished with fewer words. Trying to exceed his mark would be foolish.

Will Durant was a historian, who I have read for forty years now. He has taught me to always consider the underlying cause and appreciate the human gravity of the effect. In terms of writing he reminds me to offer a meaningful—if not comprehensive—conclusion, and to leave the reader wondering with the aid of a carefully worded final line.

Andre Norton wrote science-fiction for teenagers in the 1960s and 70s. She taught me to always consider the particular world view of a character, to write from that character’s limited perspective, not forgetting that he or she has hopes and dreams of their own, aside from whatever use they, as a character, serve the writer.

Barbara Tuchman wrote nonfiction. She has taught me two great lessons: never wait until your research is done to begin writing, and never underestimate the abject stupidity and capacity for venality of human beings.

Gene Wolfe is, in my view, the best writer I have read. When I read Wolfe I am going to class, studying every sentence, in hopes that some of his genius will rub off on me. I have, since picking his first book up in the early 1990s, striven to use strictly limited diction and minimal narrative revelations, to keep the reader closely identified with the character.

Louis L’Amour is the most balanced writer I have read, and manages to inform, entertain and engage the reader as one act. He is second only to Burroughs as far as pace, and manages to ground the reader in a feeling of authenticity related to such small things as the width between trees or the smell of a breeze. I make certain to read L’Amour once every year, just to remind me what I might be forgetting about my basic skill set.

George R.R. Martin influenced me primarily in the use of italicized text to represent the thoughts of the viewpoint character. No one had previously done this as extensively. I believe I have surpassed Martin in the nuanced use of this method. The second big influence Martin had on me was the use of a strictly limited character perspective, and the use of a large cast of protagonists in rotation.

Herman Melville I came to late in life. I was reading Mastermind of Mars and fantasizing about fighting white apes and rescuing beautiful red-skinned babes, when I was supposed to be reading Moby Dick in school. For me, Melville is like a shaman. I came to writing fiction through writing nonfiction concerning my uniquely violent urban life. Melville was a working, wandering man who wrote fiction and nonfiction. I read him as a soulful reminder not to let my fiction wander too far from its nonfiction origins—personal and historical—and to remember always that my characters, each and every one, have a soul, for at least so long as they walk the page.

I base many of the characters in my fiction on people I have known or interviewed. This is problematical where women are concerned, as even the women who love you hide their deeper selves, and are rarely honest with the men in their lives, least of all some violence expert interviewing them at the bus stop. Many women go through life with a vested interest in men not being able to understand their gender, in hopes of maintaining an interpersonal edge in a relationship. For this reason I read contemporary fiction by women, which tends to be honest where the inner thoughts of a woman are concerned, as it is written for a predominantly female audience.

I like V.J. Waks and Sheri Broadbent for this. Ms. Waks does a superlative job crafting a conflicted young woman, in the form of Gerda Tau, who finds herself changing in a world that is not to be trusted, and is changing itself.

I love Sheri for all of the everyday doubts, fears and desires expressed by her Estelle Staab character, as she looks in the mirror waiting for that middle-aged shoe to drop.

It might surprise readers to discover, that I, the adult version of a person whose first act upon entering high school was to stab another student in front of a teacher, have not become an astrophysicist, or at least a jet-propulsion engineer. Yes, I am still stabbing people. So, when I write Darkside Ink., about the last organic woman on earth escaping to the dark side of the moon, should I dig into a pile of lunar source books, or pick up a copy of Ben Bova’s Farside. I’ll let Ben, a real scientist and expert on solar colonization, fill me in on the far side of the moon. It’s more fun that way.