Writer’s Log: Time & Calendars


Do your stories transpire in hours, days, weeks, months and years? Do your characters say, “give me a minute,” or “just a second?” Are your characters old if they have reached the “age” of 80 or more?

Your answers might vary if you’ve every tried to write a science fiction or fantasy tale.

Humanity’s time and calendar are entwined as one. 3600 seconds makes up an hour. Twenty-four hours makes up the day. A day is the smallest celestial unit which we tally together in blocks that make cultural sense. The month was based on the revolution of the Moon about the Earth. And the year, the Earth’s trip around the Sun as documented by our calendar.

When we write, we seldom consider such things. Only rarely do we stop to think that our protagonist might use some other measurement of time to mark the passing of their life. To this theoretical challenge, most would say, “Why bother confound the story? It’s the concept of time that is contained within our minutes and seconds, our days and weeks.”

True. A day on Tatooine may take an Earthly 41.82 hours to rotate about its axis, but so what? An hour is an hour, doesn’t matter how long it “really” is.

“What time is it, C3PO?”
“Sir, I am versed in six-thousand measurements of time, to which…”
“Shut-the-fuck-up, you sanctimonious Oscarian-statue wanna-be.”
“Well, I never…”
Hero’s journey protagonist gives the robot a threatening look.
“It is ten-ten pre-noon, local Tatooine time.”

But what if we wanted to create a Universal measurement of time? One that would be exact no matter what planet or moon or star-bound journey one found oneself upon.

Turns out the concept is moot. And it’s due to the fact that time is relative.

For what purpose do we use time and the associated calendar? Planning. When the time zones were laid out across the United States, it was the railroads that set the clocks. They did so for efficient scheduling. When sundials, and stone henges were created, it was to plan for meals and plantings—many of which had religious foundations—when do we know to do a thing?

What would we do with a Universal time constant? Perhaps plan our conversations with extra-planetary colonies? Or use Le Guin’s ansible to speak across the vacuum of space using Quantum Entanglement? Well, we have to recall that Einstein’s Theory of Relativity included this concept: that time, itself, is relative. To us, here on earth, a second is 9,192,631,770 radioactive oscillations of Cesium 133. But, to anyone traveling at some distance from us, to or away, at some fraction of the speed of light, their actual measurement of time would be different; their oscillation count would change—relative to ours.

Their “second” would be different from our “second” and although we could probably calculate how those two seconds might differ, why bother? The work involved would not provide any meaningful payoff.

In the past, I’ve taken issue with the use of English-word time measurement in stories. What does an Orc know of the “hour”? The Thranx the minute? An Arrakis second? But it turns out, such a controversy existed only in my mind. It IS the story that transcends all mundane human assumptions. Tell a good tale and such frivolous details dwindle away in the telling.




12 thoughts on “Writer’s Log: Time & Calendars

  1. Last time we needed to turn back our clocks, I forgot. Everything was weird when I woke up the next morning. It was as if sb was playing a trick on me. It was only after hub came back from work that I found out. It hurt when we realized it was only one hour instead of say 20 years.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “Tell a good tale, and such frivolous details dwindle away in the telling.” Should be a billboard except for the tautology.

    A good tale = Assumptive dismissal of disbelief. You’ll always have the plastic pocket liner people, the grammar police, the others. Forget them. Tell the tale, sans bullshit. We’ve often discussed how the francise authors tell a wee tale of sameness while their research assistants fill up pages with history, local color, code names, and the alphabet soup of mythical agencies and lands. Who cares? Put any Louis L’Amour in silver spandex or a wizard’s cape or Zebak skins on Neldoor, transpose the appropriate weapons, next. Readers need to escape, not keep Google and a dictionary handy and remember all the new names for the same old shit. Story forward, let the rest fall where it may.

    Liked by 3 people

      1. I too personally graduated from the school of redundancy school. Learned better the tale’s telling improves with the speed bumps removed. Hey, poetry! Feel free to call me Longfellow. All the women do.
        Sorry. Couldn’t resist.

        Liked by 2 people

    1. I entered the research with the thought to remove humans from such a cosmic concept as time. I figured if there exist others in the universe, they too, would have created their own time. Of course, the probability of “others” is practically zero, so that, in and of itself, is moot too.

      Liked by 2 people

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