Guy Stewart's Blog, page 123

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Where is Asimov When You Need Him? (Condescending Scientists Have Killed Science Reporting)

[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 #3207 . The link is provided below…
Science Reporting: Science plays an important part of our lives. Our ability to understand science is dependent, in part, on how science is reported in the news. An on-going trend is the loss of science beat reporters, but also the rise of professional scientists as bloggers. How well is science reported in today’s new media? How might this change? What are sources of science news that you can rely on? Anne Hoppe (m), Frank Catalano, Janet Freeman-Daily, Charlotte Lewis Brown(This essay is not in direct response to this event -- it just sparked a line of thought!)When I think of the best science reporters – not the smartest, or best in their field, or with the most letters behind their names, or the most insistent that they are “right” – I think of Isaac Asimov.
“…professor of biochemistry at Boston University, best known for his works of science fiction and for his popular science books. Asimov was prolific and wrote or edited more than 500 books and an estimated 90,000 letters and postcards. His books have been published in 9 of the 10 major categories of the Dewey Decimal Classification.” (Wikipedia)
We have no Asimov today. In fact, I can think of no scientist-author-newspaper columnist anywhere…one that’s not condescending, that is. Currently, AGW warming alarmists have set themselves at the very forefront of science reporting hecklers. The people they heckle, unfortunately, are people who are NOT scientists. Try this on for size:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/justin-stoneman/post_868_b_720398.html
This one’s about obesity and stupid Americans. Or how about this one: http://news.discovery.com/space/astronomy/1-in-4-americans-dont-know-earth-orbits-the-sun-yes-really-140214.htmabout how stupid Americans don’t know that the Earth orbits the sun. Or this one regarding democracy: http://blog.sfgate.com/politics/2012/03/09/scientists-say-america-is-too-dumb-for-democracy-to-thrive/. How about the simple fact that we’re psychologically messed up: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/wired-success/201407/anti-intellectualism-and-the-dumbing-down-america. And then there’s the Democratic Party’s American “whipping boy” – the GOP is stupid (by implication anyone who is a Republican is stupid…so roughly half of the US) http://www.addictinginfo.org/2015/12/18/obama-calls-gop-stupid-on-climate-change-even-far-right-european-parties-agree-video/.
This article, however, is both NOT par-for-the-course and well-done: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/04/opinion/sunday/playing-dumb-on-climate-change.html?_r=0
Not ONCE did Asimov begin with “Americans are so stupid” or “The GOP is so stupid” or any other deprecatory statement of ANY group of people. He educated. He wrote clearly and on everything. He educated without malice and with a sense of humor. He wrote quizzes that people actually took – my local “newspaper” still does them! (http://www.startribune.com/isaac-asimov-s-super-quiz/129322923/)
For a complete list of his work, go here: http://www.asimovonline.com/oldsite/essay_guide.html
As for his essays, “Though perhaps best known throughout the world for his science fiction, Isaac Asimov was also regarded as one of the great explainers of science. His essays exemplified his skill at making complex subjects understandable, and were written in an unformal style, liberally sprinkled with personal anecdotes that endeared him to a legion of faithful readers.”
Even as intelligent as he was; even though he knew he probably knew more than most of the people he met, he responded this way in the Fall of 1989: “I RECEIVED a letter the other day. It was handwritten in crabbed penmanship so that it was very difficult to read. Nevertheless, I tried to make it out just in case it might prove to be important. In the first sentence, the writer told me he was majoring in English literature, but felt he needed to teach me science. (I sighed a bit, for I knew very few English Lit majors who are equipped to teach me science, but I am very aware of the vast state of my ignorance and I am prepared to learn as much as I can from anyone, so I read on.)” (http://chem.tufts.edu/answersinscience/relativityofwrong.htm)
Would that more science writers took Asimov’s stance; spoke more eloquently; AND judged less harshly, maybe the whole GMO issue, and AGW issue, and stem cell issue, and vaccine issue, and every OTHER issue regular folk respond to with fear; might never have come to BE issues if more science writers worked at educating people gently rather than with the “I HAVE A PHD AND SO I KNOW MORE THAN ALL OF YOU STUPID [choose your group] PEOPLE SO YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”(I actually had a person write this to me because of a blog post.) that I’ve seen so often in so many paper and online publications.
So, is there any science writer out there with the “spirit” of Asimov?
(PS – I picked the quote above because I am certain that scientists and writers who are most critical of “the rest of us” automatically assume that they would “of course” be with Asimov in laughing at stupid people. But I can’t find a single reference to him completing the statement with, “Except for scientists and people who think other people are stupid.” I’m pretty sure that “society” includes all of us – and I’m pretty sure Asimov would have included himself in “society (‘the aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered community.’)”)
Program Book: http://sasquan.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/ConGuide.toupload.pdfImage: http://www.quotationof.com/images/isaac-asimovs-quotes-5.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 37

[image error]On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. The Braiders accidentally created a resonance wave that will destroy the Milky Way and the only way to stop it is for the Yown’Hoo-Kiiote-Human Triads to build a physical wall. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society may produce the Membrane to stop the wave.
The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Kashayla; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.
“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”
“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.”
 “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”
 “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)
Retired never got to finish his sentence because a flash of light followed by a thunderous roar made the truck swerve wildly. The autopilot took over from me and Retired had the big gun in his hands again. The truck stopped and ahead of us, the ground was glowing green. Otherwise, it was totally silent now.
He said, “I think our enemies may have found us. We have to get out of here.” Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (ret), whom I’d started calling Retired, yanked open the delivery truck’s door and dropped out.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. An instant later, it was obvious.
The truck’s rear doors popped open and Retired said, “We have to leave this behind and get to the farm. It’s the only way we’re gonna be able to survive tonight. It’s about two miles down the road. Herd Mother, can you make it?”
Dao-hi said, “Of course I can. We all can!” she snapped her tentacle-arm for emphasis as the Herd leaped from the back.
“Qap, Xurf, any problem running the distance?”
“We will travel in low form, so no,” Qap, the female replied, and set about organizing the Pack so that the pups were taken care of. Dao-hi did the same.
‘Shay climbed into the front of the cab with me, slugged me on the shoulder, then kissed me and said, “We’ll be fine. We’ve been training for years. We can run the Pack and Herd into the ground!”
Qap and Xurf snarled a challenged, and Dao-hi, along with her smaller chosen males, Zei-go, Seg-go, Ali-go laughed in return.
Retired snorted and said, “Good. Let’s move out. Stay with me – Herd Mother, do you cede temporary leadership to me?”
“Done, Master Human!”
“Pack Leaders?”
They Pack howled and Xurf cried, “Lead, Human!”
“‘Car, ‘Shay? Do as I say, not as I do?”
We chorused, “Sir, yes, Sir!”
“Move out!” He ran, low to the ground, through the green glow of the shallow crater, then up the side and back on to the gravel road. “Single file, move fast, eyes ahead!” His lope was easy for all of us to follow. The Kiiote had all folded into “wolf” form and my best friend, the male Fax, ran alongside me, his bristles – not ‘fur’ because the Kiiote weren’t even loosely related to Earthly dogs – poked through my denims with shots of an adrenaline analogue. The Herd took up the rear, Herd Mother last of all. They were running with sheathed hooves. Underfoot, the road was frozen solid, though it’d been a mild winter and there wasn’t as much snow as there usually was.
It was silent and still, so we heard the Human choppers in the distance before we saw their searchlights sweeping the field. Ahead of us, Retired surged into a sprint and he hissed, “Spread out. Straight forward. When you get to the farm, head for the barn. Ignore the house.” Fax and me stayed together as the rest of them broke apart, the Herd with nervous snuffs barely heard.
The choppers homed on the truck and were shortly hovering over it. I shot a look over my shoulder and stumbled. No one yelled at me, but Fax’s spines dug into my leg as he held me up. The denim would be full of holes by morning. I could already feel the cold air in spots alongside my right knee.
I didn’t need to be looking to know that the choppers blew up our truck. The concussion was enough to knock me and Fax over, we tumbled over the hard ground, then were back on our feet. I was pretty sure I was running in the right direction – our truck was a pyre, flames shooting into the air – directly behind us. The choppers – there were two of them – started flying in widening circles, spotlights lancing down into the night like laser beams. Cursing all around except from me. Never got into it. The spotlights diffusing from the ground, lit our way with wildly leaping shadows. I had a stitch in my side, despite all the track running I’d done at our home in the Cities. I’d also never run over rough ground.
Or been scared for my life.
Why were Humans hunting us? Where was our Triad protection – Retired couldn’t be the total resources of the Corporation! Shouldn’t there be an army out here to protect us? The circle the choppers flew was only two hundred meters behind us and when the light came close this time, all I could see was Fax next to me, looking for all the world in that wild light, like a big dog. Running away from a scary helicopter with his master. Who’d been out hunting…raccoons on this cold winter night.
On close examination, Fax would obviously be a Kiiote. But from a height, maybe we could pass for a kid and his dog. One of the choppers was sweeping toward us, the noise deafening. I shouted to Fax, “Pretend you’re a dog!” I spun around, rolling onto my back. Fax huddled under my head as the chopper swept toward us. It stopped, the glaring spotlights washing out everything around us. I raised my hands, acting as if I was a terrified country boy – it wasn’t much of an act. The only part I was acting was ‘country’. I screamed, “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! I didn’t do nothin’! We was only out huntin’ ‘coon! I didn’t see nothin’! Why’d you blow up that truck?”
I doubted they heard a word I screamed, but my act must have convinced them I wasn’t who they were looking for – that and the fact that from their height and mostly under me, Fax looked like a dog. And we were alone on a dark, cold night, near a farmhouse. Either that or I didn’t look like I could threaten a kitten, let alone a world government. The chopper moved away, blowing debris, snow, and grit over us. We lay that way as the second chopper passed over us, sweeping us with its lights. They did it two more times until they were finally well beyond our place in the snow. I said, “I think we can get up now.” The back of my head was fine as Fax had consciously laid down his spines before the chopper reached us. Otherwise, I’d be bleeding from multiple head wounds.
He growled, shook himself, then lifted the spines again, saying, “Let’s never do that again.”
“Agreed. Next time we lay belly-to-belly,” I said, brushing myself off. Suddenly realizing what I said, I stammered, “Not…you know…like…” Belly-to-belly was how Kiiote exchanged DNA. Males and females had bare belly patches about two hands wide and long, that when breeders were ready, became slick with mucus. The female extruded tiny hooks which stimulated the male to release sperm into his mucus layer. A bit of rubbing followed – from what I’d seen, sometimes lots of rubbing followed – and the hooks pulled the male closer as well as opened six slits on the female’s belly pad. There was an egg in each slit, which the male sperm fertilized. If the mating was arranged, they’d separate and act all very business-like. But if they liked each other...I cleared my throat and whispered, “Not like that!”
Fax growled low in his throat and said, “What, you think I’m ugly?”
The conversation stopped dead as the choppers swung over what looked like an abandoned farm, then passed on. “That’s gotta be my uncle’s farm,” I said, ignoring my blushing face and other…bodily…reactions. “But where is everyone?”
Image: http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/x/night-view-abandoned-farm-mountains-44741622.jpg

Ideas On Tuesday 236 – Zombie Curse…

[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.
H Trope: immortality
Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immortal_DNA_strand_hypothesis
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3109559/
While the Wikipedia entry explaining the Immortal DNA strand isn’t exactly a current event, the second entry IS and though it is a medical paper and written in medical language, it happens to be significant to the life of our family.
To make this understandable to lay people, I’d like to use those worn-out tropes of horror: vampires.
Let’s just say that the vampire DNA strand is immortal, but because so many vampires were killed in the 19th and early 20th century by various vampire slayers such as Koshiko Kamiyama, John Averill, Twelve String Digby (http://www.fvza.org/tophunters.html), Van Helsing and Buffy, it has become widely spread and doesn’t produce vampires any more.
It’s lengendarily reported that the vampire slayings were in response to an outbreak of vampires in the 17th and 18th Centuries (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/the-real-vampire-slayers-397874.html).
It is the 21stCentury now and people travel everywhere all the time. A chance college meeting leads to romance for a couple with old, Eastern European roots – Curtis Vlad Allen is the result and he discovers his vampiric leanings not long after his mom is transferred to the 3M headquarters in Minneapolis. He attends a prestigious private high school…but the story begins when his dad has to tell him about the birds, the bees and the bloodlust…
"Listen, Vlad, you’re thirteen now, there are things you need to know about yourself…”
Vlad snorted, “Dad, I know all about sex, so you don’t…”
“I know you know all about sex! This has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with a family…problem.”Vlad frowned and said, “What are you talking about?”

His dad cleared his throat. “Listen, son, this is hard for me to talk about, but it has to do with when you get passionate with a girl…”
Vlad laughed. “Dad, you know I’m gay, right?”
His dad sighed, “A father can hope, can’t he? It doesn’t matter the orientation. It’s just that when you get passionate, you can…nibble on people.”
Vlad had no idea why it happened, but he was abruptly so embarrassed, his pale skin flushed red. His throat got tight, and he suddenly found that his hands, sitting in his lap, were worthy of intense study. He managed to croak, “Dad…”
“Listen, son, I can’t sugar coat this, so I’m just gonna say it out loud…”
“Don’t, Dad!”
“You’re a vampire, son, and when you ‘nibble’ on people, you’re passing the virus to them.”
Of all the conversations he’d imagined having with Dad, this was one he’d never thought to rehearse. He opened his mouth then closed it. Finally he managed, “You mean anyone that…has ever had a bite…is gonna become a vampire?”
Names: ♂ Romania
Image: http://img2.imagesbn.com/images/99630000/99631950.JPG

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Why Would Anyone REALLY Make A Clone Army?

[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 #3111 . The link is provided below…
Creative Bio-engineering: We are just at the beginning of being able to realize SF dreams (and nightmares) of bio-engineering. This panel will discuss where we are today, what is in store in the near future, and what we might want to worry about. Ramez Naam (m), Nancy Kress, Vonda N. McIntyre, William Alvis Thomasson, Peter Charron

I recognize two names here -- Nancy Kress, who invented Humans who didn't need to sleep, and Vonda N. McIntyre who invented snakes that inject meds, so they know what they're talking about. The others, I've never read --but will now be on my "to read" list!
My wife takes bio-engineered insulin: “The human genetic coding for proinsulin is inserted into Escherichia coli cells, which are then grown by fermentation to produce proinsulin. The connecting peptide is cleaved enzymatically from proinsulin to produce human insulin. Studies indicate that there are no important differences between pork insulin and human insulin in terms of therapeutic efficacy and disposition after intravenous administration. Recombinant human insulin has a faster onset of action and lower immunogenicity than pork or beef insulin. Diabetic patients may have an improvement in glucose concentrations when their therapy is switched from animal-source insulin to human insulin.”
There are literally hundreds of bioengineered products in modern society – soybeans, corn, canola oil, beet sugar, alfalfa, potatoes, rice, pesticides, veterinary products, as well as animals like chickens, pigs, cattle, Glofish, and numerous others. Follow the link below and you can do your own search.
As I wasn’t there, I can only wonder what they talked about. Bioengineering is both widespread and except for very few objections from some organizations and individuals, it goes unremarked and we accept it without question when it has to do with medical treatments.
So what WERE they talking about?
Can’t be talking about gengineered diseases – natural mutation produces enough frightening diseases to keep us in horror novels until the end of Earth’s time.
Couldn’t have been talking about GMOs because the majority of us eat genetically modified organisms (and ignore the fact that chickens came from Asian red jungle fowl; corn came from a Mexican plant that grew one, single, 1 inch long cob (25 millimeters); and cows came from the now-extinct auroch – and no one complains about them…oh, that’s right, they were NATURALLY genetically modified. It’s called breeding. It’s what Humans do. It’s what we depend on.
Maybe they’re talking about “making people” – and aside from the fact that we only cloned healthy mice that lived normal lifespans in 2013 – Human cloning is a long, long way away. At least intentional Human cloning. The record for natural Human cloning was five – beyond that, there seem to be some barriers. The most obvious one is the size of the uterus. What if we eliminated that and were able to pop every cloned kidlet into an artificial uterus? What would be the POINT? George Lucas has never satisfactorily explained the reason behind making a “clone army”. On the face of it…it doesn’t even sound sensible. Why would you want every single soldier to have the exact same biological background? All I’d have to do is capture one, discover a violent allergen, dose the whole battlefield with it, and take over the Empire.
What about manufacturing Humans for specific jobs? We already violently object to educational tracking (ie: kids who are good at shop, take shop classes; kids who are book smart, take college classes) – mention the subject to any school board meeting that has lots of parents at it and prepare to be tarred and feathered. A politician who suggested that people with blonde hair and blue eyes are most suited to farming would be summarily labeled a “Nazi”, then tarred and feathered. What makes ANY scientist, anywhere believe that cloning Humans for particular uses would be acceptable to the American Civil Liberties Union? It wouldn’t be – though it’s something I’m exploring in my science fiction (one story is here: http://www.perihelionsf.com/1509/fiction_2.htm). I plan on more stories in this universe exploring issues of bioengineering.
So, despite the fact that we already do it, it happens naturally, and there isn’t any foreseeable, logical REASON to do it, I suppose it was fun to talk about.
Anyone there who could relate some of the issues discussed?
Program Book: http://sasquan.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/ConGuide.toupload.pdfResource: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/2690608, http://www.fda.gov/AnimalVeterinary/DevelopmentApprovalProcess/GeneticEngineering/GeneticallyEngineeredAnimals/default.htm, Image: http://usercontent2.hubimg.com/5178933_f520.jpg

Merry Christmas!

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 76: Aster of Opportunity

[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.
FardusAH, assistant to Mayor-for-Life of Burroughs Dome, Etaraxis Ginunga-Gap, said, “We’re going to mix classes; mix orphans and natural-borns; rich and poor; management and service...”
Aster Theil, former general secretary and assistant for the City of Opportunity, now Consort of the very same Mayor-for-Life, laughed loud and long, shaking her head. “A paradigm shift I don’t know if this stodgy city of ours can possibly survive.”
“It will survive. But I don’t know if we will,” she said.
Aster paused, pursed her lips then replied, “Change is natural, Madame Assistant.”
“True, but change is movement, and movement always means there’s the potential for an accident.”
Passing through the office from the Mayor’s desk, a little Human’s eyes grew wide. FardusAH could see his face on the monitor she surreptitiously glanced at. His name was Shafter. He’d just delivered a pile of encrypted, “Physical Transfer Only” chips to the Mayor’s desk. FardusAH always nodded to him, trying for friendly. All he ever did was glower at him. She got the distinct impression, he thought her haughty and better than him.
He was Human and she’d heard from the Mayor that he lived on the Rim. That matter of geography made him a valuable source of information about what was happening there. He’d slowed his stride, listening until he couldn’t linger any longer without arousing their suspicions. FardusAH widened her eyes at Aster, tilting her head fractionally after him. The Mayor’s Consort closed her mouth slowly, ostensibly checking the front of her formal Dome suit – gray pants, a gray tunic worked with silver threads into a complex pattern mimicking the ripple marks found in parts of Melas Chasma. It was a sort of promise that someday, Mars might run again with surface water – if Humans could ever get their act together enough to begin true Geoforming.
The door slid closed behind him. When she was certain he wasn’t listening outside, FardusAH said, “That man is a fursnake with the ears of a bat! Credits to beignets he’s headed one place.”
Aster sighed then said, “Most likely on his way to see how much this little bit of intel will buy him with Security Director vo’Maddux.”
“Not much, if I’m any judge. She’s more mad at his Honor than at you.”
“I can’t imagine that’s true! Vo’Maddux hates me.”
FardusAH shook her head, sitting back down and turning to the virtual computer screen floating over her desk. She placed her hand in the field and after making a series of complex finger movements leaned forward to study the screen. The computer’s focus on her retinas made a clear image impossible for anyone by her to see. A moment later, she said, “Vo’Maddux may hate you, but based on a my quick assessment of the Mayor’s three biggest backers, your ideas going to be a hit for the season.”
“You have direct links to Patwary, Tremblay, and Sūn (Bangladesh, Canadiens français, Chinese)?”
“Hardly, but I do have direct contact with all of the assistants of the Mayor’s major supporters. It’s part of my job to maintain his network.” She grinned sunnily.
Aster narrowed her gaze, saying, “If I was stupid, I’d think that was an entirely logical and innocent statement.”
Mock surprise. “Your Honor! You place a slur upon my character!” But the look she gave Aster was defiant and entirely unrepentant.
“So we can count on some support from important people?”
“Absolutely.” After a moment, she held up one finger, “However, your Honor, you can expect to face some strong opposition from other important people. The first of them is vo’Maddux. She is important and powerful in Burroughs. She knows many people and has made it her practice neve to owe anyone anything. But a great many people owe her. If you wanted to identify the real power in this Dome, you’d have to include her on your list.”
Aster nodded slowly, “I’d be inclined to place her as the number one power.” She paused, studying the wall behind FardusAH, then looking directly down at her. “But I should point out that there is one power that is so far above the others that we usually discount it.”
FardusAH made a face then said, “I mean no disrespect your Honor, but your god has a serious challenger in vo’Maddux.”
Aster nodded, “No doubt. But my God has been around a few more years than vo’Maddux has. My God has some serious connections as well.”
FardusAH leaned back in her chair, studying the Mayoral Consort for some time before finally saying, “Dependent on the outcome of your party, I may have some questions about your God.”
“If you do, I will be happy to answer them.” She bowed slightly. “I’ll see you later.”
As Aster strode from the office, FardusAH touched her mauve lips with a navy blue finger, nails done in complimentary yellow. She said softly, “You most certainly will, your Honor. You most certainly will.” She turned to her screen and got back to work.
Image: https://dainspires.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/esther4.jpg

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 235

[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.
Fantasy Trope: Historical Fantasy (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HistoricalFantasy)
Current Event: http://www.mlive.com/entertainment/bay-city/index.ssf/2015/12/the_spirit_of_christmas_was_al.html
Filip Dybdahl sighed then said, “All of the magic has gone out of the world.” He was working a potion to lay down gold circuitry on an enchanted matrix for a board to be packed off into space. The telescope the University was working on for the United Nations would help astrologers make more accurate horoscopes for each of the signatory countries. Non-signatories would just have to take their chances with fate.  
Shrugging, Maja Wiig said, “Our ancestors didn’t help keep the saints alive, you know. They could have been Catholic, but chose to be Protestants instead. Killing off all the saints, as it were.”
Filip grunted. “If there was one bit of magic I could call back,” he began.
“Don’t!” Maja exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you know anything about the intersection of the real and the fantastic?”
He straightened up, thumbs going into the small of his back, shaking his head. “I had the same fundamental courses you did before I sat for my Masters in Alchemy. What are you talking about?”
“You remember when you took that elective class in Classical Egyptian Incantations?”
“Duh. Professor McGuillicudy said if I wanted to get my bachelor’s I had to take her class.”
“Yeah? Well I took a physics class instead.”
His eyes widened. “You took Planar Mathematic Spells for Physicists?”
She shrugged again. “Calculus was always fun for me. Conjuring gravity anomalies was a great way to meet boys with brains.”
“So you learned about this what, ‘intersection of the real and the fantastic’? What’s that supposed to mean?”
She scowled at him and said, “You sound pretty hostile. I don’t know if I want to tell you about it. Especially if you’re standing there ready to bite my head off. Whatever happened to your Scandinavian coolness?”
“It heated up when we got here. The Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy isn’t exactly a place where I can lay back on my frozen butt and bask in the glories of my previous accomplishments! I’ve had to fight against these Gud forbannet Amerikanere for everything I’ve gotten.” He swung a flat-handed chop at her. “You have, too!”
She surrendered with both hands up and a laugh, “You’re the one who wanted to bring back the magic of Christmas!”
He opened his mouth to continue his attack, then closed it. He closed his eyes, then put dug one thumb into each temple, adding, “I’m tired. Not myself.” He looked up at her and for a moment, his gaze was bleak. “And I miss home. It’s Christmas…”
Names: ♀ Norway; ♂ NorwayImage: http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lwoilyycMO1qcobyd.jpg(Can you say 19th Century jawas, anyone?)

WRITING ADVICE: Part 1 -- What Happened When I Read Ursula K. LeGuin’s Newly Revised Book, STEERING THE CRAFT: A 21st Century Guide to Sailing the Sea of Story (September 2015) Guy Stewart #28

[image error]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!
Addendum: Compared to Ursula K. LeGuin, most speculative writer’s work fall short of literary merit. But LeGuin won The annual 2004 Edwards Award, the panel noting that: “LeGuin ‘has inspired four generations of young adults to read beautifully constructed language, visit fantasy worlds that inform them about their own lives, and think about their ideas that are neither easy nor inconsequential’” (Wikipedia)

I started reading this book (the 2015 edition), which was originally published in 1998, a few days ago. I have found it slow going – not because it’s so badly written, but because every sentence invites me to pause and reflect.

Before her, only two other writers – and I mean no offense here – have inspired me to consider their non-fiction works with the same kind of attention. Dietrich Bonhoeffer and C.S. Lewis have given me such pause that it seemed to take forever to read THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP and MERE CHRISTIANITY because I was marking, underlining, or commenting on two or three things on every page.
I mean no offense because I am well-aware of LeGuin’s opinion of religion, and of Christianity in particular, but my writing is almost as important to me as my faith – and LeGuin has forced me to think about my writing in a way I have never done before.
And so, to work: “The chief duty of the narrative sentence is to lead to the next sentence – to keep the story going.” (p 2)
For me, this is startling in its simplicity and one of the most difficult things I have ever attempted. I have had about ten percent of my work published. The other ninety percent languishes in my “dead files”. There are stories there that I loved that no one else wants. My question has been repeatedly “Why?”
I haven’t done a deep scan of my “failed works”, but when I’ve briefly looked at things that have been repeatedly rejected, I’m beginning to see a pattern. The stories are often just linked events – the story doesn’t keep going because IT’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.
A quote that LeGuin has “pinned up over my desk for a long time” is what Socrates said: “The misuse of language induces evil in the soul.” (p 14) I only have to read posts on Face Book to guess the truth in this. Of course, there’s an implied corollary here, that if I use language well, then I might induce good in the soul – and perhaps the souls of others. We already know that words well-written can calm the soul. Look at writings of Martin Luther King, Jr. or Mother Theresa.
“You are the Pied Piper, your sentences are the tune you play, and your readers are the children of Hamelin (or the rats if you prefer).” (p 22) I have always been selfish in my writing, doing what “I want”; and while I can still do that, LeGuin points to a higher purpose. She doesn’t only point to it here where she is lecturing, however. Her work speaks loudly to many issues. Her craft is intentional and when she speaks people listen. As well, she does NOT lower the “intention bar” when she writes for children. CATWINGS is as profound as THE LATHE OF HEAVEN, though both touch on the same issue – racism – they are aimed at entirely different audiences and speak to them using language they can understand.
Last of all, “Nothing in your story happens ‘somehow’. It happens because you wrote it. Take responsibility!” (p 44) Looking at a story I wrote recently and sent out recently and was rejected a dozen times has this horrendous problem at its very core: “stuff” happens to my main character. He had no clear goal at the beginning except “go to the Moon for training”. Things happened to him and then at the end something MAJOR happened to him that is the crux of the novel he’s in. In the book I wrote, he’s much more intentional! I love the incident I wrote about – now I have to take responsibility and create a story in which I stop using the excuse that “somehow something happened” to him!
I’m half way through the book now, so I’ll share next time what else I learned.
Take away:

1) Keep the story going somewhere.
2) Use language well.
3) Point to a higher purpose.
4) Take responsibility!
 Thoughts?
Image: http://static4.quoteswave.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/We-are-all-apprentices.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: What Happened When I Read Ursula K. LeGuin’s Newly Revised Book, STEERING THE CRAFT: A 21st Century Guide to Sailing the Sea of Story (September 2015) Guy Stewart #28

[image error]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!
Addendum: Compared to Ursula K. LeGuin, most speculative writer’s work fall short of literary merit. But LeGuin won The annual 2004 Edwards Award, the panel noting that: “LeGuin ‘has inspired four generations of young adults to read beautifully constructed language, visit fantasy worlds that inform them about their own lives, and think about their ideas that are neither easy nor inconsequential’” (Wikipedia)

I started reading this book (the 2015 edition), which was originally published in 1998, a few days ago. I have found it slow going – not because it’s so badly written, but because every sentence invites me to pause and reflect.

Before her, only two other writers – and I mean no offense here – have inspired me to consider their non-fiction works with the same kind of attention. Dietrich Bonhoeffer and C.S. Lewis have given me such pause that it seemed to take forever to read THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP and MERE CHRISTIANITY because I was marking, underlining, or commenting on two or three things on every page.
I mean no offense because I am well-aware of LeGuin’s opinion of religion, and of Christianity in particular, but my writing is almost as important to me as my faith – and LeGuin has forced me to think about my writing in a way I have never done before.
And so, to work: “The chief duty of the narrative sentence is to lead to the next sentence – to keep the story going.” (p 2)
For me, this is startling in its simplicity and one of the most difficult things I have ever attempted. I have had about ten percent of my work published. The other ninety percent languishes in my “dead files”. There are stories there that I loved that no one else wants. My question has been repeatedly “Why?”
I haven’t done a deep scan of my “failed works”, but when I’ve briefly looked at things that have been repeatedly rejected, I’m beginning to see a pattern. The stories are often just linked events – the story doesn’t keep going because IT’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.
A quote that LeGuin has “pinned up over my desk for a long time” is what Socrates said: “The misuse of language induces evil in the soul.” (p 14) I only have to read posts on Face Book to guess the truth in this. Of course, there’s an implied corollary here, that if I use language well, then I might induce good in the soul – and perhaps the souls of others. We already know that words well-written can calm the soul. Look at writings of Martin Luther King, Jr. or Mother Theresa.
“You are the Pied Piper, your sentences are the tune you play, and your readers are the children of Hamelin (or the rats if you prefer).” (p 22) I have always been selfish in my writing, doing what “I want”; and while I can still do that, LeGuin points to a higher purpose. She doesn’t only point to it here where she is lecturing, however. Her work speaks loudly to many issues. Her craft is intentional and when she speaks people listen. As well, she does NOT lower the “intention bar” when she writes for children. CATWINGS is as profound as THE LATHE OF HEAVEN, though both touch on the same issue – racism – they are aimed at entirely different audiences and speak to them using language they can understand.
Last of all, “Nothing in your story happens ‘somehow’. It happens because you wrote it. Take responsibility!” (p 44) Looking at a story I wrote recently and sent out recently and was rejected a dozen times has this horrendous problem at its very core: “stuff” happens to my main character. He had no clear goal at the beginning except “go to the Moon for training”. Things happened to him and then at the end something MAJOR happened to him that is the crux of the novel he’s in. In the book I wrote, he’s much more intentional! I love the incident I wrote about – now I have to take responsibility and create a story in which I stop using the excuse that “somehow something happened” to him!
I’m half way through the book now, so I’ll share next time what else I learned.
Take away:

1) Keep the story going somewhere.
2) Use language well.
3) Point to a higher purpose.
4) Take responsibility!
 Thoughts?
Image: http://static4.quoteswave.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/We-are-all-apprentices.jpg

A Good REVIEW OF MY PODCAST STORY, "Fairy Bones" Up at SFSIGNAL

http://www.sfsignal.com/archives/2015/12/diabolical-pods-ladys-maid-semaphore-society-fairy-bones/


A REVIEW OF MY PODCAST STORY, "Fairy Bones"!!!!!