Guy Stewart's Blog, page 129

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 32

[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)
I took a deep breath, held it, and said, “I met a Kiiote when I was two years old.”
Retired’s look narrowed as he said, “You weren’t drafted into the Triad until you were five.”
I nodded slowly, turned my head and attended to my driving as a dark, heavy silence fell in the bakery truck’s cab. Finally Retired said, “You’re telling me your uncle was T984?”
“My parents told me his name was Tim Orwell.” That surprised a huff out of Retired. “I doubt if anyone else would get the joke.”
He snorted this time and finally said, “So not only are you in the North American Triad, your parents were involved with the Kiiote and the Yown’Hoo from the get go.”
“The ‘get go’?”
“It means ‘from the very beginning’ – it was slang that came from the African American Individualist and Civil Rights movements of the late Twentieth Century.” He paused while I drove on into the night. The headlights weren’t necessary with the holographic projection from the radar lighting up the windshield, but it still made me nervous. I felt like I was driving blind – though I admit it wasn’t much different from playing an imgame on the wall screen back at home.
Home. “You think the Dome is gone?” I said suddenly.
Retired didn’t say anything, so I thought he hadn’t heard or I hadn’t actually spoken out loud. We drove in silence for a while until he finally said, “It’s gone.”
For whatever reason, I’d known that. “What do we do now?”
“We were headed for the safe house, but it seems it, too was compromised. I can only think that the entire Triad program has a mole in it somewhere.”
“Someone’s been spying on us?”
“Probably.”
“I’m coming back to my question then – I don’t want to seem obsessive or nothing, but what are we going to do?”
Retired stopped talking. I risked a glance over at him and just about ran us off the road. “Pay attention!” he shouted.
“Then answer the question!” I shouted back. The door into the rear slid open a bit and ‘Shay stuck her head through.
“You two OK?”
Retired said, “The safe house we were headed for has been compromised. We’re going to have to keep going until we reach our next destination.”
“Where’s that?” ‘Shay said.
A Yown’Hoo tentacle slithered alongside the door and pulled it open more. “The Human Herd member asks a valid question, Soldier. Where do we go? For the sake of Herd, Pack, and Tribe.”
Retired looked over at me and said, “Did you ever hear the story of where you uncle came from?”
I shrugged and said, “I think Dad said he grew up on the farm.”
Retired snorted then said, “The biological uncle may have, but the one you met was an android. He came from the Kiiote.”
Image: http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4040/4210658820_80f4ecc782.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 218

[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: “All Planets Are Exactly Like Earth http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AllPlanetsAreEarthLike
Current Event:http://arstechnica.com/science/2015/07/a-super-earth-found-in-the-habitable-zone-of-a-sun-like-star/
Hamsa Mohmand squirmed in his wheelchair and muttered, “This isn’t exactly how I envisioned meeting an alien welcoming committee.”
“Be happy the *trill*Geh are willing to meet with us at all,” said Layan Joya. “There are indications their culture has no tolerance for handicaps.”
“We’re not handicapped!” Hamsa exclaimed.
“To them we are. Now be quiet.” The airlock from the lander to the outdoors irised open. A fresh breeze blew across their faces. Layan said, “Dill weed.”
“Lemon.”
“Alien,” she said, then sneezed. She glanced at Hamsa, eyes wide, “What if we’re allergic to them?”
“Allergens would have shown up in analysis. There’s never been a meeting so carefully coordinate and planned as this one.”
“Yeah, from fourteen hundred light years away!”
“Good thing we have the q-no.” The quantum nonlocality device allowed them to speak with anyone on Earth without delay. Their first encounter with the *trill*Geh was being broadcast back on Earth in every format and language.
“A lot of good that’s done us…”
“Quiet, they’re here.” A broad moving platform on multiple small wheels rode up to the foot of the ship’s gangplank. On it lay a living being that looked like a biological version of the vehicle – wide, flattened, and covered with what appeared to be gray leaves that lifted and fell in a rhythmic, faintly nauseating pattern. “Watching them never made me feel queasy from the ship,” she whispered.
“It’s the direct contact and the smells and the double gravity – all together. One of the braniacs on Earth said this might happen.” He sneezed.
The *trill*Geh moved off the vehicle with a sinuous, millipede-like stride. The forward portion of the creature lifted from the ground and four pairs of tentacles unrolled. The tips of the uppermost two and lowermost two twisted together, the central four stretched out at forty degrees from each other. The effect was of a six-pointed star. At the top was a crown of blue cilia that never stopped moving. Abruptly, every one of the leaves stuck out and the *trill*Geh dropped to the ground. It was instantly back on all of its feet again.
“What was that?”
“I have a funny, unfunny feeling about this…”
Names: ♀ Afghanistan; ♂  AfghanistanImage: http://36.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m0g6m7gyRx1r102r6o1_500.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Success Equals Profound Peace…Not!

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[Note: This turned out to be WAY harder to write than I thought it would be!]
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...”
Let me share my own experience.
Somewhere around 1982 (thirty-plus years ago), I was about 25 and had finally started submitting my stories seriously. I’d sent out one of the stories – I think it was called “Dogie” – to the offset print magazine called ANTITHESIS. I was renting a room in someone else’s house, substitute teaching, and just getting my feet wet in the “real” world.
One day, I got an acceptance letter from the editors.
I wept. *
A few years later, I was married, a father, and a full-time middle school science teacher. I was still sending out stories, hoping against hope that I would get a publication again. One day, my wife called me at work. I’d gotten a SMALL letter in the mail from ANALOG SCIENCE FICTION AND FACT. She asked if I wanted her to open it, I said, “Yes! Yes!”
She did, and there was an acceptance letter from Stanley Schmidt.
I wept.
Then I put together a collection of children’s science sermons, shopped it around, and sold it. I did a curious thing – I belittled it in my mind because it wasn’t with a big publisher, I’d sold all rights for $100, and it had been so easy to write, it had practically written itself.
I scorned.
Last week, my editor at MuseItUp Publishing sent me an email to say that my first SF novel, “Emerald [of Earth] made it to Amazon's Top 100 Best Sellers in Children's Sci-Fi Aliens books.”
I wept.
Despite my meteoric, twenty year climb to success (see what I mean – even when I’m examining this strange response…I HAVE the very response!) After each achievement, I found myself quickly, BLITHELY^ discarding the accomplishment and shifting my “hopes and dreams” to the next level.
Really fast.
Maybe even, too fast.
While I’m not saying that I wasn’t “supposed to” do that – how else would I have reached it to ANALOG or Amazon.com if I didn’t continually challenge myself, moving the goal farther and farther out?–  I find that, like SOME writers, I moved on without proper celebration of reaching a long-sought-after goal.
“You’ve surely heard it before, celebrating even small successes will help to keep you motivated and energized...There are those who will... remind you it is more important to be humble and focus on learning from your failures than celebrating your wins…there’s a measure of truth to each...[but]consider…that there is a significant difference between shouting your success to the world, and giving yourself permission to feel joy and satisfaction; to acknowledge the measure of dedication and courage...it took to achieve your goal...increases positive emotions such as self-respect, happiness, and confidence...there is a growing body of research that associates cultivating positive emotions on a regular basis with psychological well-being, resilience and living longer.”
At this late date, I find myself bothered by the response. Will I end up being like Laura Resnick’s “aspiring-and-not-just-aspiring” writers, dissatisfied forever; always wanting more; victim of what I call the “Adam & Eve Syndrome”?
I will HAVE to work harder to stay out of this trap. But what is the alternative to the “a-a-n-j-a” writer’s dissatisfaction? Maybe I can ask around to some of my writer friends and bring quotes back that might shed light on this…
References: *(The story was never published because the magazine went under, but that’s a different writer’s horror story altogether…); ^ “without thought or regard; carefree; heedless: a blithe indifference to anyone's feelings.”
Resources: http://www.emotionallyresilientliving.com/why-you-should-always-acknowledge-achievementsImage: http://img.chinalovematch.net/files/blog/image/479/201104252330130546742.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 71: Stepan Back to 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  and I’m sorry, but a number of them got deleted from the blog – go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (50,000 words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.
Stepan Izmaylova, who’d once been known as Natan Wallace-Gillard, “Hero of the Faith Wars”,  looked down at the blue adolescent and said, “You’re really just a kid, then.”
Quinn, an Artificial Human snorted, wiped his nose on his sleeve, then said, “Yeah, I might be thirteen, but the stuff I seen’s gotta make me older…”
Stepan sighed, nodded, then squeezing his shoulder, said, “Yeah, son. It made me older, too.” He paused. “It made me older, too.” Another sigh, and he said, “Let’s get home, Quinn.”
As Quinn was leading, they caught the five o’clock local time garbage run. The carts crisscrossed the surface beneath the city of Burroughs, transporting the waste of half a million people to where it could be processed and recycled. Typically, the facilities were on the Rim of the original Burroughs Dome – a dilapidated, run down area perpetually layered with fine red dust, which was the final resting place of the Dome’s indigent inhabitants. No one was really “poor” on Mars. But there were those who had more than others. No one literally starved to death on Mars – no matter what the tabletoids screamed from the fanciful headlines. But vitamin D deficiency, along with its multiple problems of bone weakness, increased cardiovascular disease, cog-impairment in the elderly, asthma in kids – especially young Artificial Humans of any size or appearance, diabetes, and even cancers; was a profound problem on the Rim. Supplements were expensive and reserved for the middle and upper classes, natural sunlight...it went without saying that with the Sun not-quite twice as far from Mars as it was from Earth, the intensity of sunlight would be that much less. Even if an average Martian lay out in the full light of day, stark naked, every day, their body would only just barely synthesize enough vitamin D to keep them healthy.
Rimmers didn’t have that luxury. The ones who found work had the dirtiest jobs in the Dome. Those who didn’t spent most of their days “dumpster-diving” in the depths…
"Quinn?”
The blue boy looked up as they took an industrial lift from the underground back to the surface. They weren’t alone. Plenty of Rimmers were heading up to some space they’d carved out of the city above to make their home. After their trip to the HOD though, Stepan noticed the ripe smell; hating himself momentarily for noticing. The boy said, “’Sup, Bossman?”
“Don’t call me that,” Stepan began.
“OK, Bossman. ‘sup?”
“You eat mushrooms?”
He wrinkled his nose, genuine distaste on the blue face. “Hate ‘em, so, no, I don’t.”
“Where’d you get them from?”
“The underground. They grow on the walls.”
Stepan pursed his lips. “That’s mold, not mushrooms.”
Quinn shrugged. “Same thing.” The lift doors opened. It was night and the Dome was transparent, letting in the dust-fuzzed light of the stars.
 “No, they aren’t. Mushrooms – good ones – can give a you vitamin so you don’t get the soft bone disease.”
“Rickets? Yeah – and I’ve seen elders who’re losing their cog, real Human and aych,” he used the phrase Artificial Humans used for themselves rather than the derogatory inti they’d used above, “kids whose got bad asthma, and that blood sugar thing.”“Diabetes,” Stepan said, staring down at Quinn. “You know about that?”

“Who don’t?” Looking up at Stepan he laughed and said, “I’m artificial, not STUPID!”
Stepan laughed as well, adding, “Well, we’ll grow mushrooms in the dark of the warehouse and raise chickens and grow vegetables on the roof. All of those are high in vitamin D…” he patted the antigrav plate his father had lent him. They walked with the crowd as men, women, children, and aychs peeled away. Soon they were at the edge of the warehouse district. They’d passed the first one when two blue men stepped out of the shadows, pulled out knives and said, “Give it.”
Image: http://cache4.asset-cache.net/gc/dv1535067-rear-view-of-a-buddhist-monk-kneeling-on-the-gettyimages.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=eH0hXXJtSoPADooyLEMff8OVmXjNySNMiN4gIdwZA8M%3D

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 217

[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: The Blank (one with no face…)Current Event: http://patch.com/illinois/joliet/ex-con-charged-blowing-dogs-face-firework-surrenders-cops-0
Laurențiu Gabor pursed his lips and looked over at his partner, saying, “Can we believe them?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Tereza Dalca. “We know the guy blew the face off the dog.”
“Does it follow that there’s a faceless dog roaming the streets of Minneapolis though?” Laurentiu said.
“We can ask the victim and her dead daughter,” Tereza said, “but I’d really rather not call up that psychic again. He gave me the creeps.”
Laurentiu snorted, “He gave you the flu – on purpose.”
She shrugged. “We have to catch the thing before it kills again.”
“I’m open to ideas,” he said, tapping the computer screen to clear the file. “Animal Control hasn’t had any luck…”
 “Luck is something you have your financial advisor buy on the Spell Exchange. We’re a bureaucracy – we have to order our stuff after filling out the forms in quintuplicate.”
Laurentiu scowled. “We have to do something. What if the thing’s developed a taste for kids?”
Tereza gripped her lower lip between her pointer finger and thumb, rolling it thoughtfully. Finally she said, “There’s always your nephew.”
“He’s twenty-one now! Not like last time!”
“Yeah, but he looks like a kid. He’d be perfect. We know where the looney blew the dog’s face off. We know where the kid was attacked and killed. So we send your innocent looking…”
Laurentiu snorted, saying, “He’s about as innocent as any other twenty-one-year-old...”
 “Exactly!”
Neither of them noticed the pit bull laying quietly on the ground under the dumpster. Neither one of them would have been able to detect the invisible leash or the invisible woman holding the leash unless they’d been looking closely to see the glamour’s shimmer. They would not have appreciated her wicked grin if they’d seen her. They also wouldn’t have appreciated the way she tugged on the faceless dog’s leash – especially because her own face was mostly missing as well…
Names: ♀ Romania; ♂ Romania Image: http://l1.alamy.com/thumbs/4/727ad00d-6722-45c1-b634-92840d39156e/CF6CKX.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: What Went RIGHT With “Technopred” (Aurora Wolf, May 2013) Guy Stewart #21

[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!
What did I do right?
Here, I’m going to have to define “right”.
I love “Technopred”. I think the idea is sound (watch National Geographic’s “Raccoon Nation” online for free if you think the idea’s whacko!), and the writing is good. I tried to place this in every other market I could think of: ANALOG, Intergalactic Medicine Show, ASIMOV’s, Lightspeed, DSF, and BuzzyMag all turned it down cold. I’d done lots of waiting and I wanted to idea to be public.
So I moved to what I call my “second tier” markets. Aurora Wolf, Strange Horizons, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Words of Wonder, Fiction Vortex, Perihelion, Stupefying Stories, Giganotosaurus, and a few others were markets I didn’t read often, but still passed through them every once in a while.
Aurora Wolf was top of the list, so I shot the story off there and the editor responded quickly and enthusiastically: “Guy, You have an acceptance, as is, for "TechnoPred". I've never had any collisions with raccoons except when one helped me scare the pants off a bully at Boy Scout camp, long ago. I put a sticky bun under his sleeping bag. Naturally the raccoon took care of the evidence lol…And Ravens I see every day. I might even exchange a caw or two :) With this in mind - I cannot refuse :) your consideration.”
He paid promptly, albeit it was a token amount, but had it posted not long after. I got a comment from a reader, and while I don’t get to Aurora Wolf often, I do visit on occasion and the story is still there. I am proud that while I haven’t sold everything I’ve ever written – like Robert A. Heinlein says “In Grumbles From the Grave Heinlein tells the very nicely rounded story of writing and selling his first short story and how he's (understandably) proud of having sold everything he's ever written. However... It turns out that whilst this story is composed of mostly true elements that For Us, the Living was actually the first thing he wrote and he wasn't able to get it published - oh and that he did his level best to make sure it never came to light, even to the extent of burning his own copy of the manuscript.” – I’ve sold 10%. That’s since 1990! I haven’t broken it down more, though my percentage has been close to that each year.
So I suppose the things I learned are just reiterations of things I already know – that even Heinlein knew:
1.) You must write.
2.) You must finish what you write.
3.) You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
4.) You must put the work on the market.
5.) You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.
Writers today quibble about this and slam down on them. They seem to be unaware that while no one knows who they are, the rules they’re bashing are so well-known that if I asked someone at a SF convention “What are Heinlein’s rules for writing?” they might be able to tell me. If were to then ask, “What are ______ objections to Heinlein’s rules?” most of the people who answered the first would say, “Who?” to the second...
This is what went right with “TechnoPred”: I kept the work on the market until it sold.Any thoughts?
Link to the story: http://aurorawolf.com/2013/05/guy-stewart/#more-3546Resources: (Mike Lacey review) http://www.amazon.co.uk/For-Us-Living-Robert-Heinlein/dp/0743261577Image: http://static4.quoteswave.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/We-are-all-apprentices.jpg

JOURNEY TO THE PORTRAIT’S SECRET #74: July 29, 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.  ?zZ

Tommy Hastings said, “Geez, I don’t know how I’d have made it to Canada and back without a friend.”
Freddie Merrill nodded. “I’d’a died of fright by now like a hundred times if I’d had to go there alone.”
They both nodded and went back out to the room. Nilson’s mom walked out and said, “Where’s Nils?” They all turned to the door when they heard a harsh scream...
Tommy was out first, followed by Nils’ mother. Freddie stopped at the door as the other two charged into the darkness. He turned back to the kitchen, rummaged in the drawers until he found the biggest knife he could find. He strode out after them. When he reached the beach where the boat was, there was a group of men with flashlights, shining them on Tommy and Nils’ mother.
Nils was on the ground, curled around his middle, moaning. At least he wasn’t dead. Freddie stepped into the light, holding the knife up and shouted, “Get back or I stab the next person who tried to hurt us!”
Tommy spun around, face in the sudden dark, the flashlights behind him. “What are you doing!”
“Saving us from these guys! I’m tired of them chasing us! I’m tired of being afraid!” He looked into the lights and screamed, “Stop it!”
There was a dark rumble, then a shot rang out. Tommy and Freddie screamed and dropped to the ground. Nils’ mother raised her arm in the air, a gun in one hand and said, “Get off my property or I start shooting bodies.”
A voice accented with what the boys had come to recognize as a Finnish accent said, “You wouldn’t dare, woman!”
Another shot rang out and Nils’ mother said, “You punched my son. I have no husband to take care of me, so I take care of myself. Now you can rush me, but I have Smith and Wesson .38 that I learned to use and I can plug the bottom out of any tin can I throw into the air – three times – before it hits the ground. I also fought off a charging black bear sow.”
“You wouldn’t…” a woman’s voice said.
This time Nils’ mom put a bullet into the ground, then added, “Now get off my property. The second you are, I’m calling the police and because I used to date the chief, he’ll bring all of his deputies will be here in about five minutes. So I’m suggesting you leave for your Socialist hidey hole in Duluth now before they get here.” There was movement and she added again, “I also know you’re staying at the Five Pine resort, so get out of the cabins. And make sure you forfeit your fees.”
“You can’t…” a third voice shouted. This time, a bullet hit the trunk of a tree in the darkness. There was a scramble as the Socialists fled. She turned to Freddie, who was still holding the knife up like he was going to carve down the Socialists, and said, “That was incredibly brave, young man. Wish Nils had more friends like you.” Now that the flashlights were fleeing into the woods, the streetlight lamp outside over the dirt parking lot of the resort showed her face. “You and your friend are welcome to stay here any time you’d like.” With a nod, she added, “We’ll get you out of here and on the road in the morning. Now I’ve got a phone call to make. Would you see to Nils, then?”
Tommy was still staring at Freddie as he nodded. Freddie was kneeling beside Nils who was struggling to breathe. He was up on his hands and knees and Freddie patted his back then lifted the other boy’s arm, put it over his shoulders and stood. The two of them walked slowly past Tommy. He watched as they went into the cabin then followed after them.Image: http://heblewherakiss.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/adc1.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 216

[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: illegal drugs open gate to wonder
Current Event: http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2011/03/limitless_ten_percent_myth.html
It’s a search Humanity has been on for a zazillion years – a magic drug that would give us INSTANT sight into the future or the past or the present or the neighbors closet…
Science has given a patina of respectability to this search for the mystic by telling us (somewhere or other) that we only use 10% of our brain and that we really need to get on to the discovery that would lead us to be able to use the other 90% to perform all sorts of wonderful “stuff”.
Signe Bengtsson grew up in a home with parents who are no-nonsense psychiatrists, feet firmly rooted in reality and brain chemistry. For them, there is nothing outside of the material world of wet electrical circuits and chemical reactions. For them everything mind is explainable.
Dad has a heart attack because of stress (which is, Signe notes during an anger jag, invisible). Clot-dissolving drugs and blood thinners combine in him to send him into an hallucinogenic state that she witnesses as her dad dreams and talks about a strangely realistic-seeming world in which he has an adventure that ultimately ends in him running off with a circlet of metal forged in that world.
Signe falls asleep and wakes up the next morning; the nurse says that her dad is out of the dark but will be sleeping a lot for the next few weeks. She stands up and a heavy wire circle slides from her lap and falls to the floor, ringing like a bell, deeply. The sound seems to penetrate, ringing the bones in her head then fades slowly.
With the circlet in one hand and the arrival of her mother, she hurries off to school; exhausted and shaken…
Image: http://hdwpics.com/images/1FBDD591BC02/Gate-Into-Another-World.jpg

Slice of PIE: Immigrant Alien, Emigrant Monster

[image error]Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in London this past August, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. The link is provided below…

“Crossing Boundaries: Histories of International SF/F for Children: Is there a ‘shared’ understanding of the fantastic across cultures? How have F&SF narratives for young readers evolved in different countries and storytelling traditions? What kinds of stories succeed or fail in crossing national borders and why? How are these transnational stories from ‘Other’ places received and read in their new contexts? What are some affinities and tensions between these different ‘imagined communities’?...international traditions of F&SF for young readers and the relationship between the local, the national and the global in the world of children’s literature. Drawing upon the range of the panelists’ national and transnational experiences, we will explore issues around the intersections between regional, national and international literatures and the representation of diversity, identity and the Other in fantastic texts for young people.”
I think it would be a good idea to start with three definitions, based in part on the LonCon blurb and my essay title.
Immigrant: a person who comes to live...
Emigrant: a person who leaves a country...
Culture: something new, and useful that does not exist as a physical object, and is expressed in the behavior of a group of people...
So – aliens who come to live on Earth (or invade it, or get something from a culture); monsters who go to live in different cultures (or eat them, drink their blood, or terrorize a different culture) all will be considered here. As well, I’ll poke around at monsters who immigrate to new cultures and aliens who come to live.
As I don’t know any other cultures, I can only comment about this one we live in.
Let’s start with monsters: “there’s a whole world of spine tingling tales out there, stories of ghouls and ghosts from all corners of the Earth, which’ll blow the Mary Celeste out of the water and make the Enfield poltergeist look like a mere public nuisance.” Swedish ghost trains, Maori dead chiefs in boats, Japanese samurai bewitched by a dead girl, horned ghosts of a British forest, haunted North Dakota libraries, ghostly German hitchhikers, Polish ghost soldiers, Brazilian weeping ghost woman, and a Korean ghost woman with a horrible face...add to this, of course, Egyptian mummies, evil Arabian genies, Phantoms of the opera, Nepali abominable snow monsters, Transylvanian vampires, Irish and Xhosa sea monsters, along with Godzilla  immigrating from Tokyo to Los Angeles, and I think the answer is pretty clear: yes, scary things have no trouble immigrating across cultures. The fact that all Humans die and that (it appears) most Human believe that there is more to a Human than meat that simply stops being a Human eventually contributes to this concept and monster and ghost stories for children abound.
Aliens? Recorded in the ancient writings of Hebrew culture for example, Ezekiel 1:4 “As I looked, behold, a stormy wind came out of the north, and a great cloud, with brightness around it, and fire flashing forth continually, and in the midst of the fire, as it were gleaming metal. And from the midst of it came the likeness of four living creatures,” as well as the meticulously researched and eminent work of skilled scientists like Erich von Däniken and his aliens who were the basis of not only all Judeo-Christian God stories, but also the various and sundry gods of Inca, Aztec, Mayan, Hopi, and quite literally all Deity stories Humans have ever told or written down. Whew! And here I thought God was a spirit! Silly me! China is building a new radio antennae to search for alien life as well...
So – do aliens and monsters appear to be cross-cultural phenomenon? I think the answer is clearly, “Yes!”
What do you think?
Program Book: http://www.loncon3.org/documents/ReadMe_LR.pdf
References: http://whatculture.com/offbeat/12-terrifying-ghost-stories-around-world.php
Image: http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/imagenes_piramide/piramidechina08_17.jpg

BUSY, BUSY, BUSY WEEK!

I know, I know, I know...but it WAS a busy week! I swear!


1) Coaching Serious Writers Workshop 2015 -- five incredibly talented young people writing their hearts out and then taking my critiques seriously and every one of them growing as a writer!


2) Helping Mom and Dad -- it was my week! (My younger brother and me trade off every other week!)


3) Lastly, the cover of my book came out yesterday and I was too flustered to do ANY hard work! Here is the link to it on my facebook page:


https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10152816559161324&set=a.408667126323.189999.714846323&type=1


I'll be back to normal on Sunday!


Images: http://us.123rf.com/450wm/creatista/creatista1211/creatista121100125/16472960-wide-eyed-european-male-with-beard-over-isolated-background.jpg,