3 Weeks, 3 Worlds: A Crash Course in Worldbuilding!

...and, as I say in the video above, what makes it different from other worldbuilding workshops is that we’ll be drawing on the tools of improv comedy—which I learned before I ever wrote my first short story. I had the idea to combine them when I realized that I’ve always subconsciously relied on improv techniques when writing fiction or plays, from The Actual Star to What Every Girl Should Know.

Check out the details below. You can sign up as a live student or, if the time slot doesn’t work for you, as an auditing student (I’ll craft the class with both audiences in mind). But sign up quick—this one might sell out, just like the last ones! Here’s the link. Can’t wait to see you in October!

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Tuition: $25-$300 — Sliding-scale options are available in the drop-down menu. To pay in installments, choose to pay with PayPal or Klarna at check out.

Instructor: Monica Byrne | 3-Weeks | Saturdays | October 10-24 | 1:00-3:00 PM ET | ONLINE

Writers often imagine “worldbuilding” as a painstaking and lonely endeavor. Some seem to believe they can only build a convincing world over many years—or even decades (coughTolkiencough)—of solitary research and invention.

But what if you could do it in, say....two hours?

In this course, we’ll be flash-building not one world, but three worlds in three sessions: one alternate history, one science fiction, and one fantasy. Counterintuitively, we’ll do this by drawing on the principles of improv, where you’re onstage, so there’s no dithering or judging—only listening and committing. We can transfer those skills to our writing practice.

There’ll be brief required readings before each session—on improv, genre, and more. If this sounds fun, we’d love to have you!

October 10, 1-3pm ET: Alternate history

October 17, 1-3pm ET: Science fiction

October 24, 1-3pm ET: Fantasy

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Much love and more soon,

Monica

I don’t know why, of all the things I could write you about for this month’s postcard, I keep wanting to write about this one weird thing that happened. Maybe in the course of writing, I’ll figure it out.

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Hello from my study on a cool, overcast day in Sligo, where Myrrh/Pockets the neighborhood cat (to whom I am pointing in the picture) is taking a nap. I just gave her some mashed sardines, so now she’s sleeping them off. I promised myself I wouldn’t feed her or let her sleep overnight, but as any cat human knows....they train you. So far she has not abused her new privileges; I think she has plenty of other houses to go to. I’m just happy whenever she comes around for a cuddle.

No surprise, it’s been another very busy month, a mix of writing deadlines and semi-urgent healthcare. Here is what I did with your very generous support:

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....by which I mean my watchlist, not the Salvation of Man.

About a year ago, something (admittedly) small was bugging me, to the extent that I had to do something about it. Since the pandemic began—at least—I’ve been watching TV series on weeknights, then switching to films for Saturday and Sunday. Except, when those days rolled around...I could never decide what I was in the mood for. By the time I was done hopping between my watchlists on five different streamers, dithering about what I felt like watching so as to maximize my relaxation time, a half hour would have passed, and I’d have to choose something short. So, it wasn’t a very efficient way of getting through all the films that I did really want to see, eventually.

I came up with an extreme solution. Two, actually.

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I took this picture five minutes ago here in Salthill, Galway. I just came from the specialist I’d come to see, so I thought I’d visit my old stomping grounds (if six weeks in a place qualifies!). I walked here every morning to dip in the sea, between those two rock walls on the far right. The tide is on its way out.

As I alluded to in my last couple of posts, I had a really terrifying bout of neck pain a few weeks ago. One morning I woke up, massaged my trapezius muscle a bit, and suddenly felt like my right arm was being electrocuted. And it didn’t stop. That prompted a telehealth appointment, which led to a walk-in clinic, which led to the emergency room; which led to a prescription for gabapentin, a week of bed rest, an MRI, and a referral for a consultant spinal surgeon. The first one who called back happened to be in Galway—slightly closer to Sligo than Dublin, luckily for me.

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I’ve finished writing a bit early today, so I thought I’d order a cupcake and stay a little longer, to write you all about how it’s going. I’ve found that rare Dublin café that’s airy and roomy—you can whip out your laptop and work for a few hours without getting the hairy eyeball. It’s called The Coach House, near Phoenix Park. Here’s where I’m currently writing from. Lovely place.

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One of my “gentle home tasks” during my break was to put all my diaries in chronological order.

All during the time I was on the road, I was so anxious about having my diaries in storage—dating back to 1992—sitting there for years, wrapped in fireproof blankets and sealed in watertight bins, but in god knows what condition. What if some roof leak had rendered them all unreadable? What if mice or termites had gotten in, somehow? What if some shadowy government agency had decided I was a threat and ransacked my storage unit?

So it was to my overwhelming relief that, when they got here, they were all fine. All intact, all accounted for, all still sealed in their watertight bins and wrapped in their fireproof blankets. I put them in my bedroom, so now I can see them every morning when I wake up, watched over by the Virgin of Guadalupe.

But the question is.....now what?

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Hello everyone. I hope you’ll forgive me if today’s round-up is a bit anemic, as I’m recovering from a bad flare-up of nerve pain (which is why I’m writing this from the couch). What precipitated it? No idea. I think cervical stenosis/kyphosis is just going to be a chronic issue. It sucks. But it’s okay.

The good news is, I have Irish private health insurance now, which meant that yesterday’s three doctor visits—first telehealth, which referred me to a walk-in clinic, which referred me to the emergency room, which prescribed me meds—took a grand total of four hours and a total cost of ~€75. The other good news is that, because I now have a car, I could actually drive myself around to all those places in minutes—which would have been a nightmare on public transportation.

So I’m laying low for awhile, taking the meds (gabapentin and diazepam). The next step is getting an MRI, to see if anything’s shifted in my neck. I’m in Dublin to pet-sit for two and a half weeks, so it’ll actually be a lot easier to find one than it would be in Sligo. Fingers crossed I can get one soon. I’m also planning to finally set up a Rover account when I get back home, so I can make a little more money to start paying for regular acupuncture.

I continue to be so grateful for your support, for this obvious reason, among all others. You’re the ones paying my salary, which means I can pay that health insurance premium, which means I can take care of my neck, which means I can keep writing. Thank you.

Here’s what (else!) I did with your generous support in the last month:

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GUESS WHAT. My Workshops for the Age of Emergency have been selling out, so the lovely folks at Night School Bar invited me to create a new course for them. Et voilà, a writing workshop that blends two of my greatest passions: genre literature and improv.

Wait, IMPROV?

Yes. For those of you who don’t know, I started my creative career in improv. When I was on my way out at MIT, I started taking an improv class in Boston, and had such a good time that I started taking more classes as soon as I moved to North Carolina. (My classmate was Jack Reitz, then a high school student, now a co-founder of the Durham comedy theater Mettlesome, which is about to celebrate its tenth anniversary. What even is time.)

Anyway, if you haven’t ever heard me wax on about how improv is one of the foundations of my creative practice, including playwriting and novel-writing and world-building, well...it is. In preparation for this class, I’m going to dive back in to my old improv texts; but in the meantime, I can tell you off the top of my head that “establishing relationships,” “yes-and-ing and heightening,” and “arguing is boring” are all things that were branded on my brain in improv days and which I carried with me straight into writing. But I’m going to put my money where my mouth is with this course, and bet that we can flash-worldbuild with the same techniques—not one world, but three. One alternate history, one science fiction, one fantasy. Now, will you be able to write a whole novel after each session? Maybe not, but....my hope is that you’ll have a place to begin, a place that feels concrete, which is half the battle.

If this sounds interesting to you, register on this page, or check out the workshop text below. As before, you have the option to take the class asynchronously—

meaning the class is recorded and made available to you afterward. And again: you don’t have to be a writer to take this workshop, any more than you have to be a comedian to take an improv class! It’s open to all.

Any other questions, ask away!

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3 Weeks, 3 Worlds: A Crash Course in Worldbuilding (Online Writing Workshop)

from $25.00

Full Tuition: $300 — Sliding-scale options are available in the drop-down menu. To pay in installments, choose to pay with PayPal or Klarna at check out.

Instructor: Monica Byrne | 3-Weeks | Saturdays | October 10-24 | 1:00-3:00 PM ET | ONLINE

Writers often imagine “worldbuilding” as a deeply painstaking and lonely endeavor. Some seem to believe they can only build a convincing world over many years—or even decades (coughTolkiencough)—of solitary research and invention.

But what if you could do it in, say....two hours?

In this course, we’ll be flash-building not one world, but three worlds in three sessions: one alternate history, one science fiction, and one fantasy. Counterintuitively, we’ll do this by drawing on the principles of acting improv, where you’re onstage, so there’s no dithering or judging—only listening and committing. We can transfer those skills to our writing practice.

There’ll be brief required readings before each session—on improv, genre, and more. If this sounds fun, we’d love to have you!

October 10, 1-3pm ET: Alternate history

October 17, 1-3pm ET: Science fiction

October 24, 1-3pm ET: Fantasy

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SLIDING SCALE TUITION

Full tuition is the cost per-student of running the class. If you choose a tier below full tuition, you are receiving a discount. If you choose to make a donation in addition to full tuition, you are helping to cover the cost for students who are not able to pay the full amount.

The mid-level tier is a discounted rate for people whose household income is at or above living wage but who have limited discretionary income.

The low-level tier and the full-scholarship tier are for people whose household income is below living wage or who need extra assistance to meet their needs.

SCHOLARSHIPS

Through our fundraising efforts, we are able to offer three full scholarships per class. The full-scholarship tier is a nonrefundable offering. Each student may only take one full-scholarship class at a time. Because our scholarship funding is limited, if a student selects multiple overlapping classes at the full-scholarship level, they will be disenrolled from all classes. Scholarships are not available for asynchronous enrollment.

All sliding-scale and scholarship needs are self-assessed, and we will never request or require proof of need.

RECORDINGS

Recordings will be provided for asynchronous students. Enrolled students who miss class sessions may request to receive a maximum of one recording to make-up missed sessions.

ASYNCHRONOUS ENROLLMENT

Classes are discussion-based and designed to be taken synchronously. However, we do offer an asynchronous enrollment option for most online classes if you need to follow along at your own pace. Recordings are only available to students who enroll to take the course asynchronously. We are not able to offer scholarships for asynchronous enrollment.

Please see our FAQ for more information, including installment plans, refund policy, and sick and inclement weather policy.

REGISTER HERE.

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Much love and more soon,

Monica

Today is my birthday, July 13. I’m 45 years old. I’m very happy to be here, for lots of definitions of the word “here,” including “this time in human history,” no matter how challenging it is. I know beliefs are many and various, but I like to think that I really wanted to be here, now. I said, “Put me in coach! This is the big pivot! I can’t miss it!”

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This past semester, one of our assignments was to collaborate on a new project with another student. I was thrilled to be paired with Cassandra O’Neill, a brilliant and resourceful visual artist whose work I’d been digging all year. We met for months, and then finally, for our mid-semester exhibition, revealed our piece—which we’d been tinkering with right up until the last minute!—an installation called Dressing Room 13. It was an intimate recreation of our 13-year-old boudoirs, complete with relics, music, and a shared “pen pal” diary we’d been working on all spring, passing back and forth by leaving it in public but accessible places, like a library or a café. When we presented it, we were proud of it—but I think we were taken aback by just how much the faculty loved it.

It was a really wonderful experience.

So, I wanted to share a little bit of it with you.

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I asked for help last month, and you answered, in spades.

Within a week, through a combination of donations, merch purchases, and advance payments for commissions, consultations, and workshops, I was able to buy a car.

She’s a 2023 Hyundai Kona EV. I took the bus down to Galway to buy her, and, through the fast work of the folks at Healy Insurance Group, drive her home. I named her Poppy because of her color, and also in honor of the sweet pup I took care of in Wellington. She was discounted because her battery’s state of health isn’t quite as high as it should be for her age (89.5%), but it’s also under warranty for a good long time, so if it goes sideways, I’m covered.

It’s hard to overstate how much having a car has transformed my life here, already. For example--I was able to drive to Dublin, to teach my class; and to Dingle, to see my sister. In each case, I could drive door-to-door (or nearly so)—meaning the number of times I had to transfer or carry heavy stuff was way, way less than it would have been. My neck is already healing—I still have some paresthesia, but a lot less pain, and I’m able to work at my desk again instead of being propped up against pillows. The first time I went to buy groceries with it, I was so excited I took pictures:

And note....it’s charging in that photo, too! I had to figure all that out real quick. I drove to Dublin/Dingle THE DAY AFTER I bought the car, which meant I was on a HUGE learning curve in all the ways an EV is different from a gas-powered car. (My last car was a 2015 Chevy Impala—gas, of course, and no fancy touchscreen or anything like that.) It meant plotting out where charging points were all across the island, and also learning very quickly how my range was affected by things like, uh, climate controls. (I am never touching those again.) When I grew up, I heard along with everyone else that doing xyz would drain your battery/fuel faster, but now I can actually SEE it happening on my dashboard. So I’m much more energy-conscious now. Which, as EV enthusiasts say, is part of the whole point. Even better, I just got a home charger installed, which makes my weekly energy bill somewhere in the single digits. I paid for it, but then my landlord said he’d pay for it instead, because, as he sensibly pointed out, “you can’t take it with you, can you.”

But in addition to the car being such a practical godsend, it gives me so much more freedom. To, for example, spend my day off at Aughris Head—a place I’d never be able to reach on public transportation.

I was also able to drive a visiting friend all over town, including to Gibraltar Rocks, seen here at low tide with Benbulben in the distance. (This would ordinarily be a half-hour walk, for me—not possible if I’m carrying swimming gear.)

It’s also just so FUN to have a car again. I plan to stick it with a “tell your dog I said hi” decal as soon as I can find it (it got buried in the move, ugh). But I did what I could. I stuck it with a Resist AI sticker, of course...

....and a nazar from Greece.....

...and my LAST remaining Art Is Work bumper sticker.....

....and, finally, Star Trek: Next Generation decals that were a gift from a dear friend, last summer. When my first friend visited me in Sligo, I had them pick out an avatar. They chose the Borg Queen. I chose Troi. Here we are, immortalized.

Apparently, Irish people don’t go big for bumper stickers and decals. But we USians wear our identities on our sleeves, don’t we? When Irish drivers follow me (or, just as likely, pass me, because I won’t be going faster than 90km/h to conserve battery), they’ll know they’re following a nerd.

And that’s a GOOD thing.

Thank you again, everyone. And I’m leaving this post open because there were a few people who contributed whose emails I don’t have. So, this is for you too.

Much love and more soon,

Monica

“Blonde wood palace” was the phrase that came to mind when I first moved into my rental in Sligo, because all the woodwork is a lovely golden color. I’m feeling especially settled here because I finally, finally, finished unpacking—and that included hanging up pictures, like the painting you see on the wall behind me. I made it when I was fourteen, under the guidance of Jenny Paulson, a local artist who gave art lessons to neighborhood kids at $15/hr (!). It was one of my first acrylic paintings (and last, come to think of it). It’s not especially accomplished, but it’s very special to me—a girl in a gauzy dress, with her back against a pillar, looking out at the full moon rising over the sea—inspired by the paintings of Maxfield Parrish.

And now it hangs in my writing study in Sligo.

Here’s what I did with your generous support in the last month:

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Last week, Jason Lloyd at Issues of Science and Technology interviewed me about the process of writing my new story “Golden Rule.” It was a great conversation, and pushed me (in a good way) to articulate things out loud that I hadn’t quite brought to the surface—for example, that it takes place in an alternate timeline, not the future of our own. I also talk about the research I did, the stories behind the characters, and why I love making up scholars that don’t exist.

It’s only half an hour long—go have a look/listen! And read the story if you haven’t yet, and the terrific response essay, here—by a post-conviction attorney, no less, who knows a thing or two about theories of punishment.

Much love and more soon,

Monica

Artwork by Rey Velasquez Sagcal.

CW: mentions of rape, abuse, intimate partner violence.

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Whatever violent crime you commit against another person, will be committed against you in turn....but you never know when.

That’s the premise of my new short story, “Golden Rule.”

I’ve had such a good time collaborating with the folks at Issues in Science and Technology this past spring—especially Ed Finn, who was a crack editor on a tough subject matter, and pushed me to come to a logical conclusion I wouldn’t have on my own. (The team at ASU are building an incredible stable of short fiction that delves into the consequences of new technologies—they’ve also published stories by Indrapramit Das and Annalee Newitz, among others—so do follow them.)

The “new technology” in my story is a new theory of punishment. In a future where society seeks to phase out prisons, Golden Rule is a pilot program of non-carceral remedy. I thought of it because of reading A New Ireland: How Europe’s Most Conservative Country Became Its Most Liberal by Niall O’Dowd—and in particular its chapters on the horrific systemic abuse in Ireland’s religious institutions. Would these priests and teachers have abused these children if they knew they’d someday be abused in the same way?, I wondered. And then I wanted to write a story that explored that question in a step-by-step way, as realistically as I could.

I will say, there are some places I didn’t want to go. So I chose a crime that I could stomach replicating; or rather, describe replicating, and one that had no moral grey area and a fundamentally unrepentant offender. There was still plenty of moral territory to explore. To wit, our protagonist is Robin Taft, one of the people recruited—from among former victims—to become a minister of Golden Rule; that is, to carry out punishments. Only former victims can become ministers. But they don’t punish their own perpetrators, only others’.

You see where it might get interesting.

As I wrote, I kept thinking of Mona Eltahaway’s famous appearance on Australian national television, which has since been scrubbed from the network. It’s always incredible to me how proposing commensurate remedy for the rape epidemic is a cause for outrage, but the rape epidemic itself is not. My story is an attempt to grapple with that.

So go give “Golden Rule” a read, and also the fantastic response essay “The Purpose of Punishment,” by ASU School of Law attorney Randy McDonald. And finally, if you’d like to hear me talk more about all of the above, I’m going LIVE to discuss the story with Managing Editor Jason Lloyd on Friday! Go here to join the conversation at 12 noon ET.

Much love and more soon,

Monica

Today I was thinking about what to write for the June postcard, and then I thought “Why don’t I write about whether I’m a woman or not anymore,” and then thought, wouldn’t that be perfect for Pride Month? So here I am.

When I was in Godspell in high school—as much a watershed experience as I’ve ever had, developmentally—the director was pairing us off for a dance number. I had the sudden thought:

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Hello everyone. I’ve been writing from bed for the last week, which is easier on my neck for now. It’s honestly a blessing to be able to work from home at all! Also, my housedress matches my pillows today.

I wrote you all with a serious ask a few days ago. And while I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch, I can say, as of now (Friday), with amazement and gratitude, that through purchases, donations, and a new teaching gig, I think I have almost as much as I need to buy a used EV. Which will make my life here easier in countless ways. You all have completely blown me away with your generosity. I can’t thank you enough.

Several items have already sold out on the Merch Menu, but there are still a handful left of the rarest and most popular items:

• 1 signed actor’s edition of What Every Girl Should Know

• 1 signed German edition of The Girl in the Road (Die Brücke)

• 2 signed limited edition storybooks of “The Comedy at Kualoa“

• 2 signed hardcovers of The Melleray Alphabet

• 3 signed paperbacks of The Girl in the Road

• 4 polar bear art notecard packs

• 14 ART IS WORK T-shirts and tank tops

....so go have a look if you haven’t yet!

And now, here is what I did with your generous support in the last month:

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I injured my neck again, from carrying heavy groceries and luggage in the last few weeks. This means carlessness has become an outright health issue for me now. I’m having pain, paraesthesia, weakness, the works—like I was experiencing in Huê. Given that my Dad was effectively paralyzed by cervical stenosis, and that I don’t have a partner to take care of me if something like that happens, it’s something I’m very nervous about.

I’ve been trying to buy a car since I came to Ireland; because I’m not eligible for an auto loan as a student, my only option is to buy one in cash. I’d continue saving what I can, waiting for Ordinary Time to sell and working on December 32nd, but…given this injury, I’m not sure I can wait much longer.

At this point, I have about $8500 saved for a used car, hopefully an EV. (Even though a petrol car is cheaper, I feel an EV is a much safer investment—because of war in the Gulf, petrol instability in general, and Ireland being a vulnerable island economy.) I’m aiming to raise $15,000 altogether, which would cover a home charger and the cheapest EV I can find (see here or here for an example of what I’m looking at). That means raising $6500. If I can raise that, great; if I can’t, I’ll get the best used petrol car I can find, and trade it in when I have enough for an EV.

Either way, a car would save me from continually re-injuring my neck. But it also means I could travel to Galway for acupuncture...travel to paying petsitting gigs in the fall...and just travel to other places in the country, without relying on sparse public transportation. To put it bluntly, a car was already the difference in whether I’m able to build a life here, but now it’s also a necessary mobility aid.

So, to raise money, I have three ideas:

(1) Can I do any work for you or your organization, which could be paid in advance and completed in the fall/winter? Consultation, copywriting, copyediting, developmental editing, an online creative workshop….? If so, please get in touch at monica@monicabyrne.org.

(2) Would you like an original custom art commission, paid in advance and delivered in the coming fall or winter? Illuminated names, wedding invitations, baby shower gifts, anniversary presents, you name it....? If so, please get in touch at monica@monicabyrne.org. (Here is a gallery of my artwork, and below is a wee sample of past commissions, which I make with fine Copic markers, now returned from across the Atlantic!):

(3) Would you like to buy my vintage merch on a sliding scale donation basis? Signed books, Art Is Work shirts, polar bear notecards? If so, just fill out this form! Here’s a sample of what’s on offer:

Okay, that’s all I got. Thank you for reading, and thank you for considering. And though I don’t expect it, if you do just want to make a straight donation, I’d welcome that too (and would find ways to thank you in the coming years). Here’s my Venmo, CashApp, PayPal, and Fractured Atlas (which is tax-deductible!).

Much love and more soon,

Monica