Chatting "Firefly" and Freedom with Jared Oliver Adams

Jared Oliver Adams lives in Knoxville, Tennessee, where he writes, explores, and dabbles in things better left alone. He holds two degrees in music performance and a third degree in elementary education, and he is utterly incapable of passing a doorway without checking to see if it leads to Narnia. Find him online at jaredoliveradams.com. 

Jared is the author of “Hidey Hole” from Issue 12.

A note from Jared:

As seems fitting for a story about Observers, I’ve donated the proceeds from the sale of this story to The Immigrant Defense Network, an organization that trains observers in real life and has been key in fighting the recent ICE surge in Minneapolis.

If you found some comfort in “Hidey-Hole,” I’d love for you to consider joining me in making a small donation to this network.

Here is an article about them, if you’d like to read more.

Q: The speculative element present in “Hidey Hole” is the color-changing light under the fingernail that signals danger, safety, or inclusion. How did you come about adding this element into the story?

I wanted technology that exists within the current scope of what is possible, because the threat of a police state is very present right now. The fingernail light system was something that I thought fit that bill, while also being cheap enough for a grassroots Observer network to fund and subtle enough to hide from people you don’t want seeing it.

Q: Did you go through different endings for “Hidey Hole”? Was it envisioned as a happy ending?

In the first draft, the ending was just a couple sentences about Esme going to the library to upload the files because they have internet there. Critiques rightly flagged that as unsatisfying. Her house was burning. Her dad was missing. She was all alone. What kind of positive future could the reader imagine for her?

After some tinkering, I expanded the library into its own scene, which let me fade to black with her at least in a place where she was safe and with allies.

Is that a happy ending?

Not entirely. We still don't know what happened to Esme’s father, and we don’t know to what extent the police will be held accountable after their plan is publicized.

But I do think it offers some hope that banding together to defend each other against fascism does make things better, and is within our power to do.

Q: Since leaving Twitter in 2016, do you expect to use other social media or try Bluesky?

So.

I want to be careful here, because I dislike social media on a personal aesthetic level, but I also have the privilege of not needingto use it. For a lot of people, it provides a community they can’t get elsewhere, or a marketing angle that keeps their business working, or just plain entertainment.

But social media is not a tool I can use without succumbing to unhealthy levels of (a) distraction from my daily tasks, (b) Fear-of-Missing-Out, or (c) authoring knee-jerk reactions to things that I would regret.

Which is all to say, I would need a really good reason to reengage with social media, and would need to deliberately craft a way to interact with it that would avoid those pitfalls for myself.

Q: Are you excited for the possible Firefly reboot that is brewing?

I love Firefly, so of course I'm excited!

That said, I worry like only a fan can worry.  Will the switch in formats work from live action to animated? Will the scripts be as good without Joss Whedon at the helm? (Note: it is the right move that he’s not at the helm.) How do you reframe the portrayal of the Browncoats in the show so they don’t provide dogwhistles to those in the U.S. right now who want to re-adjudicate the civil war?

To be completely honest, I’d much rather see a live-action show set twenty years after the events of the movie, with River as the captain and the rest of the crew in updated roles throughout the Verse. Can you imagine Jayne as a petty warlord on his old mud planet? Or Simon as a leader of a high-end medical smuggling network? Meanwhile Mal and Inara’s “passel of kids” are teenagers doing teenager things, Zoe has an eyepatch and is blowing Alliance shit up all over the Verse to avenge her husband, and Kaylee is running a mechanic shop to cater to all of them.

But, um, yes.

Yes, I love Firefly.

Also: Call me, Nathan Fillion.

I’ve got ideas.

Q: What exclusive content do you offer subscribers to your writing mailing list?

You know what? Real talk here: I started that thing, went immediately into a period where I didn't sell much, and didn't feel like I had anything to announce. Then I kinda forgot about it, so I've never actually sent anything out.

I should though, shouldn’t I?

Q: Your publication cadence has increased noticeably over the last few years. Is this an intentional escalation?

I wish it was, but the truth is that it’s just kinda the luck of a piece hitting an editor who likes it enough to publish it. I like to think I’m improving as a writer too, but, really, luck is a big factor that I don’t feel is talked about widely enough in creative circles.

This leads people to think they are not good at writing because all they get is rejections, when in reality their writing could be perfectly good but didn’t happen to meet the particular tastes of particular editors at the particular time they sent it.

Or, maybe you have good luck, and you start to think you’re brilliant, which also has its problems.

Either way, luck’s deeply involved!

Q: How do you like to combine your love of music and fiction?

Music has found its way into many of the stories I’ve written! My favorite example to share is “Rondo for Strings and Lasergun,” which is about a musician-turned-starship pilot and is told in classic Rondo form.

But, “Hidey-Hole” itself was actually inspired by music in an interesting way!

My wife is a classical saxophonist, and while she was editing her solo album we’d listen to tracks together, trying to figure out where to splice in this or that take. Then she’d mark what takes she wanted in each spot overtop her sheet music to send to the sound engineer.

The element that intrigued me was that sometimes the engineer would come back and say, “Sorry. I can’t do that.” Because, even with all the tools and expertise of the engineer, there are sensitive places in a piece of music where, if you cut there, the listener will know.

This got me thinking. What if there was an app that broadcast a faint, but very complex, musical line overtop all the video taken on your phone, and this ensured that anyone who tried to edit the video afterwards wouldn’t be able to do it seamlessly. And maybe that music included a time and location stamp!

A way to authenticate video like that would be a boon for observers and journalists everywhere.

That’s the app Esme’s father created in the story, the cypher the police are searching for being the code that governs the music. Esme doesn’t really know those details, so I didn’t have an opportunity to share them in the story proper, but it all started while listening to music with my wife!

Q: Was there any music (1-3 songs) that you think would make a good mini-setlist for your story? Either ones that may have been on your mind, or ones that give readers a good idea of the themes?

I really like the hope-in-times-of-fascism vibes of “The Olive Tree” by Dar Williams.

If my story were a short film, I’d have that song slowly fade in when Esme gets to the library and then swell to full volume as she nestles into the beanbag under the library desk.

Q: What do you hope to accomplish next in your career, be it teaching or writing?

Linking writing with teaching gives clarity to this question for me, because my goals in both are the same. I’d like to inspire curiosity and compassion, while leaving people with a feeling of agency (in myself, too, not just others).

As per my statement about luck, I can’t usually control whether my stories will be published, so I find these sorts of esoteric goals helpful in staying motivated. They give me a measuring stick to my accomplishments that is not in someone else’s hands.

Now, in terms of what specific project I’m working on right now to accomplish my goals, I’m writing a historical fiction novel that braids together stories from two different time periods. The first story follows a Cherokee girl through the volatile period just before the Trail of Tears, while the second follows a white girl as she and her family in the 1970s fight being removed from the very same land so the government can build a dam. This strange irony, of white settlers displacing Native Americans, then being displaced themselves a century later, was a common occurrence in East Tennessee, where I live, because of the proliferation of hydroelectric dams in the area.