Guy Stewart's Blog, page 119

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 248

[image error] Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. ? z Z
F Trope: a sorcerer who is dead but his “soul” lives on trapped somewhereCurrent Event:http://www.alunajoy.com/2012-mar18.html  Martin Jönsson stared at the blog and said, “You’ve read this stuff?” He scratched his scruffy blonde beard – little more than rough peach fuzz
Vukosova Gavrilović, long-time friends and NOT girlfriend, smirked. She learned the Swede phrase for her buddy’s newly sprouted beard was duniga skägg. She considered teasing him, but the look on her face warned her that he probably wasn’t in the mood tonight. Instead she said, “I read it. What about it?”
“It like, says that people can soak up ancient energy and transport it from place to place!”Vukosova shook her head. Her friend was a philosophy major – she wished him luck in finding a job as something more than an intelligent garbage collector. She was a physics major, and if her freshman grades and undergrad presentation were any indication, she may have just written herself a ticket to the Cooperative Lunar Colony Fusion Research Center after she graduated. The CLCRFC – better known by its euphemistic name, The CooL Co. FuR Center and what NASA insisted on calling ClickerFick in its press releases – was every physicists dream. Nuclear fusion was a hop, skip and a jump away from becoming practical. All they needed to do was solve one or two containment issues...she yanked her attention back to Martin and said, “We’ve been soaking up energy and taking if from place to place since the evolution of the first life form.”
He finally looked up from the screen that showed some wackoid Egyptian goddess background overlain with a the foolish ranting of someone who was certain they’d been able to imbue and ancient Egyptian site with energy sucked up in their souls from Atlantis. He said, “This is amazing! It sounds like what you guys are doing in that science class you’re taking!”
She sighed and said, “It’s called Elementary Nuclear Fusion – and it doesn’t have anything to do with storing energy. It’s about creating energy.”
He frowned then said, “I had some science classes in high school...”
“That was last year, wasn’t it?”
“Hey! Just ‘cause I’m a prodigy doesn’t mean I don’t deserve respect!”
“You were a prodigy in acting, Martin! Now you couldn’t shake a stick at an T-comp without breaking into a cold sweat!”
He stood up abruptly, snapping the cover in his computer. “Shows how much you know! I’m gonna see if I can soak up some fusion energy from...from…”
She smirked and said, “Idfu – it’s on the east bank of the Nile in east central Egypt.”
He glared, “You think you know everything just because you’re a physics major! But there’s another world out there, too. One you can’t see! It inhabits the same realm as your gravitons.”

“Gravitons are real!” Vukosova exclaimed.
“Yeah? Show  me one!”
“Well, you can’t just open your eyes and see one! You need special equipment…”
“And then can you see one?”
“Well...not exactly. But we can see evidence that gives a strong indication of the properties and the effects of...”

“So your gravitons are as imaginary as my negative Atlantean energy.”
“They aren’t the same...”
Martin turned away and stalked out of the dining hall. He stopped just before he slammed the door and shouted, “We’ll see whose god is more powerful! The trapped sorcerers of Atlantis and Ancient Egypt or the trapped gravitons of the Unified Field Theory!”
She blinked in surprise as he finished his rant and stomped away. She muttered, “I didn’t know he knew anything about the Unified Field Theory!”

Names: ♀ Sweden; ♂ Serbia

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 222

[image error]Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. ? z Z
F Trope: a sorcerer who is dead but his “soul” lives on trapped somewhereCurrent Event:http://www.alunajoy.com/2012-mar18.html  Martin Jönsson stared at the blog and said, “You’ve read this stuff?” He scratched his scruffy blonde beard – little more than rough peach fuzz
Vukosova Gavrilović, long-time friends and NOT girlfriend, smirked. She learned the Swede phrase for her buddy’s newly sprouted beard was duniga skägg. She considered teasing him, but the look on her face warned her that he probably wasn’t in the mood tonight. Instead she said, “I read it. What about it?”
“It like, says that people can soak up ancient energy and transport it from place to place!”Vukosova shook her head. Her friend was a philosophy major – she wished him luck in finding a job as something more than an intelligent garbage collector. She was a physics major, and if her freshman grades and undergrad presentation were any indication, she may have just written herself a ticket to the Cooperative Lunar Colony Fusion Research Center after she graduated. The CLCRFC – better known by its euphemistic name, The CooL Co. FuR Center and what NASA insisted on calling ClickerFick in its press releases – was every physicists dream. Nuclear fusion was a hop, skip and a jump away from becoming practical. All they needed to do was solve one or two containment issues...she yanked her attention back to Martin and said, “We’ve been soaking up energy and taking if from place to place since the evolution of the first life form.”
He finally looked up from the screen that showed some wackoid Egyptian goddess background overlain with a the foolish ranting of someone who was certain they’d been able to imbue and ancient Egyptian site with energy sucked up in their souls from Atlantis. He said, “This is amazing! It sounds like what you guys are doing in that science class you’re taking!”
She sighed and said, “It’s called Elementary Nuclear Fusion – and it doesn’t have anything to do with storing energy. It’s about creating energy.”
He frowned then said, “I had some science classes in high school...”
“That was last year, wasn’t it?”
“Hey! Just ‘cause I’m a prodigy doesn’t mean I don’t deserve respect!”
“You were a prodigy in acting, Martin! Now you couldn’t shake a stick at an T-comp without breaking into a cold sweat!”
He stood up abruptly, snapping the cover in his computer. “Shows how much you know! I’m gonna see if I can soak up some fusion energy from...from…”
She smirked and said, “Idfu – it’s on the east bank of the Nile in east central Egypt.”
He glared, “You think you know everything just because you’re a physics major! But there’s another world out there, too. One you can’t see! It inhabits the same realm as your gravitons.”

“Gravitons are real!” Vukosova exclaimed.
“Yeah? Show  me one!”
“Well, you can’t just open your eyes and see one! You need special equipment…”
“And then can you see one?”
“Well...not exactly. But we can see evidence that gives a strong indication of the properties and the effects of...”

“So your gravitons are as imaginary as my negative Atlantean energy.”
“They aren’t the same...”
Martin turned away and stalked out of the dining hall. He stopped just before he slammed the door and shouted, “We’ll see whose god is more powerful! The trapped sorcerers of Atlantis and Ancient Egypt or the trapped gravitons of the Unified Field Theory!”
She blinked in surprise as he finished his rant and stomped away. She muttered, “I didn’t know he knew anything about the Unified Field Theory!”

Names: ♀ Sweden; ♂ Serbia

Slice of PIE: Ghostbuster!

[image error]I have two books published by MuseItUp Publishing of Canada.
They’re a good publisher and they’ve been really good to me, but…but…but…
In August last year, I wrote the following, “In an article I read every year to my students in writing classes I teach, Laura Resnick delineates the progression of writers bemoaning their fate when she points out that no matter WHERE they are in their career, some people want the next level more than they want to enjoy where they are…‘I have seen this sort of thing often. (And not just from aspirants, alas.) Someone is ‘lucky’ to be a pro, so sell novels, to break into hardcover, to crack the bestseller list, to get a six-figure advance, to have two publishers, to be under contract for four books, to work steadily for years, and so on...’”
MIU only publishes electronic books. Of course you heard the trumpets as ebook publishers ushered in the New Millennium! ALL books would soon be electronic and Brick & Mortars would be a thing of the past as ebooks swept away the competition…
But that can’t be completely true, because Amazon.com OPENED A BRICK AND MORTAR BOOKSTORE – http://knowledge.wharton.upenn.edu/article/nicholson-raff-amazon-brick-and-mortar-stores/
My publications are legitimate, right?
So why, as far as everyone I know is concerned, are the books as good as ghost books?
I just came from a Young Author’s Conference where, based on the response to my writing and on the response of my peers, MY books aren’t real. The inescapable fact is that they AREN’T!
But wait – (and I’m trying to convince myself here!) when I get paid these days, it’s in an electronic transfer of funds. I don’t see cash; I haven’t seen a paper paycheck in ten years. Is my salary ghost money?
If it is, then we’ve been paying for our physical house with ghost money for two decades.
But what about this: http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/tip-sheet/article/67650-pw-asks-most-millennials-prefer-paper-books.html? My market – young adults and teen – prefers to do their recreational reading on paper books. The younger set also rarely sees their favorite books in an e-format as well. How many of you who read this, read CHARLOTTE’S WEB in an electronic format? My bet would be “none”. Reading – even for me, and I have a Nook available to me as well as my computer – is not solely about the words. There’s a visceral part of it as well that electronic books can’t contribute to.
So both of these things, the preference of millennials for paper and the missing aspects of the reading experience, war against me in my quest to become a “published writer”.
On the other hand, I AM a published writer. My manuscript was accepted, edited, a cover was created, and it’s available on Amazon.com. How do I combat my feelings of not being published?
This rumination is my first step. I’ll let you know how my quest to bust this ghostly feeling progresses...
Image: https://c1.staticflickr.com/7/6058/6237765131_a01230e4e6.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 79: Stepan of Burroughs, On the Rim

[image error]On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story.
The older man who had stopped the theft lifted his chin, “Let ‘em go. Maybe they’ll do some good. Come on.” The older man started walking. With a dark look at Stepan and Quinn, the younger man followed. From long experience, Stepan marked the face in his memory. He would see the man again; minus his older but external conscience.
Quinn’s eyes were wide when he looked up at Stepan and whispered, “How’d you do that?”
Stepan shrugged and said, “We have lots of work to do. Let’s go.” Together, they headed for the warehouse.
“No, really! I want to know! Them two’as as good as ready to stab us and take the thing and you talked ‘em down! How’d you do that?”
Stepan shook his head. QuinnAH tugged on his sleeve and Stepan snorted, “Fine then. You’re not going to like it though.”
“Try me!” said Quinn as he bounced around on the tips of his toes until he stood in front of Stepan.
Stepan shook his head then said, “Prayer.” He stepped to one side and kept on for the warehouse. He was anxious to get started. Besides, he wanted to get inside before his zealous new friend managed to inform the entire Rim that Stepan the crazy, religious whackjob had once been the world-famous “Natan Wallach, Hero of the Faith Wars!” The last thing he wanted to was to drag his father back into his life. That part of him had just been confirmed amputated. He no longer had an martian father; he merely had a Heavenly Father. He’d have to confess…
Quinn was beside him again and just before they walked into the warehouse, he stepped in front of Stepan and said, “I didn’t see you prayin’ right then.”
Stepan shook his head, “Of course not. I keep prayed up for times like that.” He stepped past the youngster, whose face was dumbfounded and frozen. He sighed and stopped at the door, leaning the antigrav disk against the wall and pushing the door open.
He turned to pick up the heavy contraption, but Quinn was already holding it. He didn’t move as he said, “OK, then, if this God you believe in can save you from getting’ murdered by a couple a thugs, then I pretty much think it would be a good deal.”
Stepan shook his head. “Being a servant of God doesn’t just mean I get out of betting beat up! If means I have to serve my God. I become his slave!”
Quinn shrugged. “Maybe big deal for one of you…” he used an extremely crude street slang word for those who had been born like millions of years of Humans. Stepan felt his eyes bug, but his young charge – dare he say convert? – kept speaking. “…but I was made to serve. I been slave to six and a ‘scaped from all of them. I could be a slave to someone who actually cares enough about me to keep me from gettin’ killed. Even if it was once, it’d be worth the deal.” He walked past Stepan, adding, “Let’s get the roof goin’. I think we can grow plants up there and then sell ‘em to buy some more equipment…I think we can get…”
Stepan stared after the young blue boy, then shaking his head, he followed, closing the door behind him. He hurried after Quinn, and said, “Who would do the selling?”
“Me, o’ course.”
“You? Who would trust you?”
“Trust me more than they’d trust you, Mister Man!” The headed deeper into the warehouse until they reached the wall below the hole in the distant roof. Stepan sighed.
Quinn said, “I bet this is where your prayer gets answered and I go op on the disk first, huh?”
“Probably.”
“What?” the boy exclaimed.
Stepan slapped him on the back, took the disk, and said, “Just kidding, kid. Besides, it’s tuned to me. I’ll go up then drop you a rope.” He looked up, said a brief, silent prayer, then activated the antigrav disk.
Image: http://data2.whicdn.com/images/19062460/thumb.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 247

[image error]Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
SF Trope: complex planetary ecologyCurrent Event: “large-scale carbon capture and sequestration projects” (http://cleantechnica.com/2014/01/20/gore-rejects-geoengineering-climate-change-panacea/), http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2012/jul/18/iron-sea-carbon
Logan Andrist frowned and said, “What do you mean they’re going to dump iron into the lake?”
Nkokoyanga Pomodimo, far from her land-locked home in the Central African Republic held tight to the railing of the re-purposed iron ore freighter – a laker – as it dipped down into the swells of Lake Superior. She said, speaking loudly over the rushing wind around them, “The iron will cause algae to grow wildly. As they grow they need more carbon dioxide. As they suck up the CO2, they store the resulting carbon-rich sugars and then keep it when they die and sink to the bottom of Superior...”
“I know what carbon sequestering is! I’m a limnology major...”
She shook her head in the wild winds and shouted, “This is glorious! Feeling Gaia beneath your feet is the most...”
“Wouldn’t that technically be Poseidon? Besides, who gave them permission to do this?”
She turned to catch his gaze and he recognized her crazy, angry look as she cried back, “Who gave all you rich white colonialists the right to pollute and rape our world?”
He didn’t want to shout. What he really wanted to do was kiss her right then and there in the cold spray from the Lake – but he didn’t want a broken face, so he shouted, “I didn’t do any of that! Why are you yelling at me?”
“I’m not yelling at you,” she shouted. “I’m yelling TO you!”
“What’s that,” the nose of the laker dove deep, nearly flooding the deck and driving a mountain of spray over them. The water was frigid despite the hot August sun burning down on them through breaks in the scudding clouds. He wiped his face clear of water and finished, “Supposed to mean?”
“You’re not to blame, old friend, but you are responsible! That’s why the captain of this tub is an old white man!”
“Professor Buddlorem’s driving the ship? We have to go save all of our lives!” Logan let go of the railing; Nkokoyanga grabbed him and pulled him tight.
“The computer is doing most of  the driving! He’s just playing captain!”
Logan eyed her warily the said, “How are we supposed to get all this iron into Lake Superior?”
‘Ko’ grinned and shouted, “Now that’s the tricky part!”
Names: ♀ Central African Republic, Gbaya; ♂ Minnesota, MinnesotaImage: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/96/La-Jolla-Red-Tide.780.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: YA Don’t Pick Their SFF Books, Old Folks Do!

[image error]Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Spokane, August 2015, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #3555 . The link is provided below…
Building a Better Tomorrow: Young adult science fiction is thriving, presenting an array of possible futures for humanity. While YA SF seems to be taking off, many of those stories feature dark futures. Why might teens be drawn to these types of settings that feature dystopic settings? Will there be a brighter or better tomorrow for us? Laura Anne Gilman (m), Troy Bucher, Dan Wells
The participants: Laura Anne Gilman (YA dark magic fantasy); Troy Bucher (service man, writer); Dan Wells (post-apocalyptic SF, horror/thriller).
A well-qualified panel. I would have loved to have listened in on this one; but I absolutely KNOW that I wouldn’t have been brave enough to have expressed my REAL opinion.
What IS my real opinion?
I’m sure it will irritate anyone who writes YA SF/F. I challenge anyone who disagrees with me to PROVE that my position is predicated on false presumptions.
I don’t believe teens are drawn to dark futures. Adults authors write the books, adult editors buy the books, adult editors edit the books, adults publish the books, adults market the books, adults BUY the books for libraries and bookstores, adults recommend the books, adults READ the books, adults review the books, and ultimate the end result is that teens AREN’T drawn to dark futures.
Dark futures are foisted off on them by adults grimly determined to either drag teens down into their dark assessment of the direction the world is going today, or adults who are irritated by the natural exuberance of youth now that they’re old and creaky, or they just hate the idea of teenagers and write fiction in which teenicide is encouraged and glorified.
Don’t get me wrong, teenagers can be incredibly dark. Teen suicide is epidemic: “Youth suicide and self-inflicted injury are serious public health concerns. Suicide is the second leading cause of death among young people ages 15-19 in the U.S., according to 2013 data (1). A recent national survey found that nearly 1 in 6 high school students reported seriously considering suicide in the previous year, and 1 in 13 reported attempting it (2). In addition, approximately 157,000 youth ages 10-24 are treated for self-inflicted injuries in emergency rooms every year (2). Self-inflicted injuries are not necessarily the result of suicide attempts; in fact, self-harm without the intent to die is more prevalent than self-harm with such intent (3). In total, suicide and self-inflicted injury in the U.S. cost an estimated $45 billion annually in medical expenses and work loss; actual costs may be higher as many suicides and attempted suicides are not reported due to social stigma (4, 5).” (http://www.kidsdata.org/topic/34/youth-suicide-and-self-inflicted-injury/summary)
But the fact of the matter is that most teenagers are positive about the future when they’re on their own.
Oh, right, I don’t know ANYTHING about teenagers…oops. I forgot to mention I’ve been a middle school and high school teacher for 35 years. I’ve been a high school counselor for the past 5. I have had some experience with what teens do, what they say, what they read, and what they think about.
I will tell you that the vast majority are positive about their future and want to make a positive contribution to the world (keep in mind that the only kids I see these days are the ones who “have to” see a counselor...this typically excludes the high-level college bound set…) I understand that I have only my tiny sample of 500 students a year to draw from each year (I either teach or counsel a single grade-level each school year); the school I work at is 69% non-white, with 40% of our population on free or reduced lunch programs).
I don’t have anything else to say to defend my position. I know teenagers – and have for 35 years (including having two of my own) as well as various nephews and nieces.
Very little real choice is offered to them and the books that ultimately GET to them are chosen by-and-large by adults. I contend that this is just plain not right.
So, go ahead. Refute me.
Actually, go ahead and refute me, PLEASE.
Program Book: http:,.//sasquan.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/ConGuide.toupload.pdfImage: http://static.tumblr.com/3ff37ba3c9c91b1a4198280199f7788e/uyqynrk/6ITnuoetj/tumblr_static_kpd04oke8u84osw4gowwow0g_2048_v2.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 246

[image error]Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
H Trope: the attack of the killer ALGAECurrent Event: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aT4LY2KcOrs

Jefferson Benson looked up from the microscope and said, “What do you mean, ‘it looks like it’s spreading’?”
Terace Miller shook her head, “I didn’t say that. It IS spreading.” She held out her hand. A thin patina of greenish-brown made the skin on her forearm look wet.
Jefferson leaned back. “What happened?”
“I was working late – I’ve got to have the slides examined and summary prepped for Dr. Hester by tomorrow at the latest. She said she wanted it today.”
“So?”
“So, I worked until about four this morning then fell asleep at the computer.”
"How’d you get algae skin from that?”
She slugged him in the shoulder with her uninfected arm. “I dozed off – slept sideways. My back was to the microscope and my arm was against a dish with a sample of the algae in it.”
“It crawled out of the dish?” he looked at her, scowling.
“Algae can’t crawl, idiot!”
“Hey! Just because my master’s thesis is in the histology tapeworms doesn’t mean I’m ignorant about plants!”
“It just means you’re plain ignorant,” Terace said. “Listen, for whatever reason, the algae got on my arm. I washed it off, but it grew back.”
“What?”
“It grew back in about an hour. Even after I swabbed it with alcohol and betadine.”
“You try salt water?”
“What?”
“Isn’t your algae a freshwater variety?” She blinked at him in surprise. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “I listen to what you talk about!”
“You just never…” she looked down at her arm, brushing over the slick spot. “I don’t know. I used the other things so I’m sort of afraid of trying saltwater. Besides, the same species has been found in freshwater aquariums and off the coast of California.”
“Really?”
 She nodded slowly, stared at the slimy patch for a moment, then said, “What if the algae has taken up a commensal relationship with epithelial cells?”
“You mean like lichen?”
She pursed her lips, looked him in the eye and nodded slowly.
Names: ♀ French, Anglo-Scottish; ♂ Old German, Anglo-Saxon Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/82/Oval_sea_grapes,
_Caulerpa_racemosa_var_clavifera,_at_5_meters_depth.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: What Went RIGHT With “Learning Through Slushing”, (WORKING WRITER NEWSLETTER May/June 2015) Guy Stewart #33

[image error]“We are all apprentices
in a craft where no one
ever becomes a master.”
Ernest Hemingway

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, Lin Oliver speak at a convention hosted by the Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Since then, I have shared (with their permission) and applied the writing wisdom of Lin Oliver, Jack McDevitt, Nathan Bransford, Mike Duran, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, SL Veihl, Bruce Bethke, and Julie Czerneda. Together they write in genres broad and deep, and have acted as agents, editors, publishers, columnists, and teachers. Since then, I figured I’ve got enough publications now that I can share some of the things I did “right” and I’m busy sharing that with you.
While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do all of the professional writers above...someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. When I started this blog, that was NOT true, so I may have reached a point where my own advice is reasonably good. We shall see! Hemingway’s quote above will now remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales! As always, your comments are welcome!
This one happened for a lot of reasons.
First is that several years ago, me and science fiction writer (1995 Phillip K. Dick award-winner for his novel HEADCRASH, inventor of the word “cyberpunk”, executive editor of the online magazine STUPEFYING STORIES, owner/publisher of Rampant Look Press, and computer genius at CRAY) reconnected after initially meeting in the 1980s. Both of our lives had changed dramatically since the first meeting of a flesh-and-blood writer’s group and his encouragement of my writing on a blog he’d started called The Friday Challenge set the tone of our friendship. A semi-shared life crisis drew us closer together and eventually led to me being one of several slushpile readers for STUPEFYING STORIES (SS).
While I had been reading stories written by students and friends for years, this was the first time that my input would lead to someone getting a story published!
SS was entirely a short story venue and when Bruce first opened the submission doors, the trickle of stories was small enough that he and his wife were able to handle it. But once it became known that he was both paying for stories AND publishing them, the floodgates opened. I don’t know who he “hired” first – my guess would be Henry Vogel – but eventually there were seven or eight of us in addition to himself and his wife. We were to read and rank stories on a scale from 0 to 6, with the highest being qualified as “I would quit my job in order to buy and publish this” (or something like that). A story ranked 0 was rare, but usually meant that none of us could make heads or tails out of it.
Of course, Bruce had final say on what he accepted and published. Thus far, he’s accepted two of mine and published one (and reissued it in a small collection with four other stories, so I DO have a vested interest in SS!
At any rate, as Bruce started passing the stories to the slushers, we fell into “specialties”. I often read pieces that would be classified as “hard science fiction”; others gravitated to horror; still others to the less-quantifiable “speculative fiction”. Even so, the ones that came to me ranged from straight-forward colonies on the Moon stories, to less linear alternate history visions of dark futures. I read all of them and “graded” them.
I also began to learn what made a good story and what kinds of things prompted my instant rejection. First of all, I discovered that many, many, many writers didn’t write stories but formless meanderings that pretended to be stories. After five pages, if I still had no idea what was happening – and another thing I learned is that SOMETHING has to happen in a story! – then I graded it with a few notes and sent it back to Bruce. Somehow, I discovered after reading a few hundred stories that some sort of character has to do something.
Another thing I discovered was that whatever the character was doing had to make sense. This is a slippery slope however and I learned to take the whole story as the context in which the character was doing something meaningful. It might not make sense in THIS world, but it had to make sense in the world the writer had built.
Thirdly, I had to somehow connect with a character. This doesn’t mean I have to LIKE them. It DOES mean I have to understand and agree with some aspect of the character. This of course, precludes the “perfect character” (which I don’t understand at all!) or the “entirely evil” character (which I don’t understand at all). The viewpoint has to be one that is comprehensible by me. BUT it also has to make sense. One story in which I understood the character’s actions still didn’t make sense even within the framework of the story.
Fourth, the writer had to be GOING somewhere with the story. You have no idea how many stories I read where nothing happened…let me amend that, nothing significanthappened to the character. This is the most startling lesson I learned from slushing: the story has to have clearly important events. It doesn’t even matter if they’re important to me (as the invisible reader), but they have to be significant to the character!
Last of all is that there are lots of stories out there that are not obviously bad – they’re just not obviously GOOD. This was the hardest thing I learned – I rejected countless stories because, while they were OK, they didn’t stick in my mind. I can’t say that I ever recommended an “award-winning” story, but I HAVE recommended a few that had been published and that are GOOD. What does it take to make a story good – and then consistently do that?
I clearly don’t know yet.
The take-away:SOMETHING has to happen in a story!Whatever the character was doing had to make sense.I have to somehow connect with a character.The story has to have clearly important events.Write a story that will “stick in my mind”.
 
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/73/Ernest_Hemingway_Writing_at_Campsite_in_Kenya_-_NARA_-_192655.jpg

JOURNEY TO THE PORTRAIT’S SECRET #83: July 31, 1946

[image error]This series is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've always wondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH clips, click on the label to the right, scroll down to and click OLDER ENTRIES seven or eight times. The FIRST entry is on the bottom of the last page.
There was a long silence, then Edwina Olds, most lately Lieutenant, WACS (ret.) back from the war, settled down and with a huge grinding of gears, backed the truck up slowly until the creamery sign with an arrow pointing right, shone bright in the headlights. She turned to Tommy Hastings, “You positive about this?”
“Absolutely!”
“Well then, let’s see if we can fill-er-up!” The truck lurched forward down the dark road, off the beaten track, gravel snapping from the rubber tires, shooting up and into the metal floor of the logging trailer.
Freddie Merrill crushed his ears under his hands and shouted, “I’ll be deaf before we get there!” The growl of the truck’s engine smoothed out even though the sound of rocks hailing the underside of the truck. “It wasn’t this loud when we went here the first time!”
“We were walking!” Tommy shouted.
“Quiet, boys!” Ed shouted over them. All three fell silent as they drove on for half an hour. “You sure this place really exists?”
“It was here…uh…” Tommy stopped. How long had they been gone? A week? Two? “What’s today?” he shouted.
“Wednesday,” she shouted back.
“No! What…like…day number is it?”
Even in the dim light of the instrument panel, he could see her shoot him a look before she said, “July thirty-first!”
Tommy sat back, his mouth open. Freddie shouted, “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve been gone for almost a month!”
“What?”
Just then, a cow stepped onto the side of the road. Ed cursed like the sailor she was, pressed down on the brakes, not panicking, but slowing the truck enough to make the wheels judder and the truck’s trailer swerve wildly, the cab tilting toward the ditch. The boys screamed – and kept screaming even when the truck came to a stop.
Silence blanketed the truck the moment they realized they were screaming. Ed said, “You’ll have to pardon me for the blue language, boys.”
Tommy was the first to recover his voice and started to say, “We’ll…” his voice cracked. He coughed, cleared his throat, and tried again. “We’ll pardon you if you forget that we screamed like a couple of Girl Scouts.”
Freddie tried to talk, but his voice came out, cracking even higher than Tommy’s voice. He coughed for several moments, then managed, “Yep. Me, too.”
Ed nodded then looked out the window. The cow stood in the middle of the road and behind it loomed a sign that read, FAIRELANE CREAMERY.
The boys exclaimed, “This is it!”
Just then an old man and a young man, both with shotguns, stepped into the road and the headlights. The older man shouted, “Come on out with your hands up!”
Image: http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4590961346_9204d91345_m.jpg

Special PIE: Review of Fonda Lee’s Debut Novel, ZEROBOXER (Flux 2015)

[image error]Boxing, violence, blood, teen freedom…what more could you ask for if you will be a high school senior; you are a high school senior; or you were a high school senior?
ZEROBOXER delivers it all and more. In a future where Earth colonized then lost space – orbital cities, Lunar states, and a Mars free from Earth’s dominion whirl around the sun.
As with all profound societal shifts, humanity keeps its sports and then morphs it to fit the new future. Zeroboxing – boxing in a zero gravity Cube – started on Mars and swept through the rest of the solar system. Earth, as often happens with imperial powers, its best, brightest, and nearly all of its glory bled away, is desperate and war with Mars looms. Carr Luka explodes onto the Terran zeroboxing scene, literally fighting his way to the top with his coach, Uncle Polly by his side. He becomes a star, then a sensation, and finally a Brand, handled by Risha, a woman barely older than he is – who (surprise!) becomes his girlfriend. Then, unexpectedly, he becomes an icon representing all of Earth.
At the height of his career, the secret of his success is forcibly revealed by his mother, his coach, and a shady underworld gene splice dealer. This is a decision that many of the young men and women on Earth today may have to face; making ZEROBOXER both visionary and thought-provoking. Extortion, more victories, and Carr’s growing internal conflict nearly cripple him as he is drawn deeper and more helplessly into an interplanetary conspiracy. He struggles with whether or not to tell his girlfriend the truth about himself, and he doesn’t...
I confess I almost threw the book aside when Risha conveniently, accidentally discovers his secret. It appeared at that moment that the author had dodged the necessity of forcing Carr to resolve his moral dilemma, leaping around the issue like a zeroboxer doing a corner jump. Rolling my eyes, I figured that here was one more novel reinforcing a meme prevalent in “generation Y” that “I’m not responsible! It just happened! It’s not my fault!”
I had to force myself to continue reading.
I am glad I did, because Fonda Lee took on a more important moral dilemma: what do you do when you have to face an impossible situation? It doesn’t matter how you got there, you are stuck in it and you have to move forward; you have to make a sacrifice in order to win free. You have to push through the mess and do the absolute best that you can, no matter the cost.  (Many adults would flat out refuse to lend credence to the number of teens who face impossible situations today. I am not one of them.)
Carr Luka faces his impossible situation finally, at the end of this book and he does the absolute best that he can do. It’s not a perfect solution, but it IS a good one and it depends from Carr’s decision rather than from just letting life roll over him.
This is why I read science fiction, and Lee’s debut novel is subtle, powerful, and will be going into my high school’s library tomorrow morning. If it DOESN’T win a Nebula or a Hugo, then I despair for the field, because this book may very well bring in the young readers we are lacking. I fully expect to see more Fonda Lee books around…in the future.
Image: http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1417959263l/20320562.jpg