An Interview with David Gerrold
Interview conducted c. early 2010s
Introduction
David Gerrold is a seminal figure in modern science fiction, known both for his fiction and his contributions to television. He is the author of The War Against the Chtorr series and the Hugo- and Nebula Award–winning novella The Martian Child. He is also widely recognized as the writer of the classic Star Trek episode “The Trouble with Tribbles.”
This interview reflects Gerrold’s distinctive voice—wry, candid, and uncompromising—applied directly to questions of craft, character, and the realities of storytelling as a lifelong practice. Rather than offering formula or abstraction, Gerrold speaks from lived experience, emphasizing surprise, integrity, and attentiveness to truth on the page.
Throughout the conversation, Gerrold resists romanticized notions of writing, reframing story as an act of sustained attention, curiosity, and moral choice. His answers are often humorous, sometimes blunt, and consistently grounded in the belief that storytelling is an act of responsibility as much as imagination.
This interview is preserved as part of the Better Storytelling Archive, documenting the working philosophies of storytellers whose influence extends across generations and media.
The Interview
Life as a Writer
How did you get into writing?
By accident. I really wanted to produce and direct. But they were paying me to write, and it seemed like a fun way to make money without really working. Writing is seductive. It distracts you from other, more important things.
When did you first realize that you have what it takes to be a writer?
When I cashed the check.
Premise
Where do you get your ideas from?
There used to be an odd little store on Lankershim Blvd. in North Hollywood, but since the neighborhood has been redeveloped, I’m now picking up used ideas at yard sales and flea markets. It’s amazing what a bit of rust remover and a new paint job can accomplish.
How do you develop your ideas into a story?
I ask one essential question: What’s missing that keeps me from believing it?
What would I have to see in these people for me to believe in them? What would I have to see in this situation or in this circumstance for me to believe in it? (There are no Earthlike planets. There are only lazy writers.)
Genre
What kind of science fiction do you enjoy working with?
Anything that makes me gasp in surprise and say, “Wow! I didn’t know that.” If I postulate that X is possible, the fun is in discovering the consequences—both intended and unintended.
What genres would you like to explore in the future?
Wealth. Oh, wait. That’s not a genre, is it? I don’t think in terms of genres. I think in terms of story.
Structure
Do you work from an outline?
Not anymore. That takes away the surprise of discovery. Now I just point myself in a direction and start typing.
Plot
How do you build your story?
One piece at a time.
All writing is list-making. Really. Whether you’re writing a shopping list, a to-do list, code for a computer program, a book report, an essay, or a novel, the essential question is simply, “What comes next?”
If you don’t know what comes next, then do the opposite of the obvious. Surprise yourself. Throw a monkey wrench into the machinery. Make the situation even worse for the hero.
Spider Robinson says—and I will cheerfully steal this bit of wisdom from him because he’s stolen several of my best puns—that the job of the writer is to surprise the reader. There should be a surprise in every chapter, on every page, in every paragraph, even in every sentence.
I would add to that: the surprises should be truthful, elegant, and eloquent.
Character
For you, what makes a great hero?
Doing what’s right in the face of massive disagreement. For some people, heroism is getting out of bed and facing the day. The single mother who works two jobs so her kid can go to college is a hero. The gay guys who adopt unwanted special-needs kids are heroes. The person who refuses to compromise their integrity in business is a hero.
Heroism is taking a stand and living that stand.
If one of your characters were to describe you, what would he or she say?
Whitlaw would probably say, “He’s doing the best with what he has.”
Setting
How much time do you spend researching the setting for your stories?
So far, about sixty-eight years.
Ninety percent of what I do in life is research. The other ten percent is lying awake nights and planning revenge. I walk around the world looking at everything—especially people—muttering “source material, it’s all source material,” and then it bubbles up again in unexpected places.
What settings would you like to explore in the future?
Luna and Mars, of course. I’ve got a planet named Hella I’m working on that’s still in its Jurassic era. And, of course, the homeworld of the Chtorran invasion.
Theme
Do you like to know the purpose of your story before you sit down to write it?
I know the feeling of the story when I start writing—that helps me find the voice of it. But purpose? Hell, I still haven’t figured out my smartphone.
Dialogue
Do you have any favorite lines from your stories?
“Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order.”
Writing
Do you have a routine? A certain place to write? Do you listen to music?
I had a routine, but my backup singers quit to form their own group.
I can write anywhere I can sit with a keyboard. My computer sits in the front room of the house so I can watch the neighbors’ big black cat stalk gophers.
I listen to music—a lot. The Beatles, ELO, Pink Floyd, Beethoven, Saint-Saëns, Gershwin, Vangelis, Tchaikovsky, Harry Nilsson. I confess to a weakness for actual melody.
How do you deal with writer’s block?
Can’t say. Never had one. Honest. I’m puzzled by the phenomenon. All I have to do is ask two questions:
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Why was I enthusiastic about writing this story in the first place?
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What comes next?
Story Development
How do you go about fixing a story?
No story is ever really broken. A story is a palimpsest—a series of corrections layered on top of one another. The mistakes are how you discover what the story isn’t about so you can find out what it is about.
Cut what doesn’t work. Take out the explanations. Let the story tell itself.
How do you know when to stop?
There’s an old joke about why God invented the orgasm—so writers would know when to stop masturbating. Does that help?
You stop when there’s nothing left to say.
Words of Advice
What words of advice would you give to new writers?
Quit. If you can be discouraged, you will be discouraged—so quit now and save yourself the anguish.
But if that pisses you off, you might actually have enough determination to finish something.
The world doesn’t need more second-rate writers. It needs people willing to do good work. If you’re going to write, write well.
Final Thoughts
What’s the best thing you’ve ever written?
The Martian Child. First I lived it, then I reported what I’d lived.
What are you working on now?
A dozen short stories, three novels, two screenplays, and updates to previous work. It’s a good thing I’m retired—or I wouldn’t have time for any of it.
Closing
This interview preserves David Gerrold’s unmistakable voice—sharp, humane, and deeply engaged with the moral responsibilities of storytelling. It is presented here as part of the Better Storytelling Archive, honoring creators whose work and insight continue to shape the landscape of speculative fiction.