I've thought about this problem I've been having with my insecurities getting in the way of my writing science fiction, and I've realized that it's even more comical that I originally thought. At first I was just amused because insecurity is amusing; it's so unnecessary and counterproductive, but we all have it to some extent. The only way not to be crippled by it is to recognize it and laugh at it. Then I started thinking about Dune by Frank Herbert. When I was reading Dune I just accepted the fact that some quirk of Paul Atreides's genetic makeup combined with the drug spice gave him prescient abilities, and I moved on to enjoy the hell out of that book. On the other hand, if I were going to write that novel I would be trying to figure out what how Paul's body would take in the information of the universe needed to be prescient, what collection of biomolecules would process that information, and what role the spice would play in that process. And even if I figured out all those things, I would be bracing myself for some hole to present itself.
That's my initial approach, even though I don't expect that kind of detail from most of the things I read. Yay double standards!
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