Edward Hoornaert's Blog, page 58

2016 Nebula Award Winners announced

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As a member of SFWA, I’m proud to pass along the announcement of the winners of the 2016 Nebula Awards, which were announced at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America’s 51st Annual Nebula Conference in Pittsburgh, PA.

The conference took place from Thursday, May 18th through Sunday, May 21st at the Pittsburgh Marriott City Center. If you missed the ceremony, you can go to our YouTube channel and watch it again.

The winners are:

Novel

[image error]All the Birds in the Sky, Charlie Jane Anders (Tor; Titan)
Borderline, Mishell Baker (Saga)
The Obelisk Gate, N.K. Jemisin (Orbit US; Orbit UK)
Ninefox Gambit, Yoon Ha Lee (Solaris US; Solaris UK)
Everfair, Nisi Shawl (Tor)

Novella

Runtime, S.B. Divya (Tor.com Publishing)
The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe, Kij Johnson (Tor.com Publishing)
The Ballad of Black Tom, Victor LaValle (Tor.com Publishing)
Every Heart a Doorway, Seanan McGuire (Tor.com Publishing)
“The Liar”, John P. Murphy (F&SF 3-4/16)
A Taste of Honey, Kai Ashante Wilson (Tor.com Publishing)

Novelette

‘‘The Long Fall Up’’, William Ledbetter (F&SF 5-6/16)
‘‘Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea’’, Sarah Pinsker (Lightspeed 2/16)
“The Orangery”, Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam (Beneath Ceaseless Skies)
‘‘Blood Grains Speak Through Memories’’, Jason Sanford (Beneath Ceaseless Skies 3/17/16)
The Jewel and Her Lapidary, Fran Wilde (Tor.com Publishing)
‘‘You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay’’, Alyssa Wong (Uncanny 5-6/16)

Short Story

‘‘Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies’’, Brooke Bolander (Uncanny 11-12/16)
‘‘Seasons of Glass and Iron’’, Amal El-Mohtar (The Starlit Wood)
‘‘Sabbath Wine’’, Barbara Krasnoff (Clockwork Phoenix 5)
‘‘Things With Beards’’, Sam J. Miller (Clarkesworld 6/16)
‘‘This Is Not a Wardrobe Door’’, A. Merc Rustad (Fireside Magazine 1/16)
‘‘A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers’’, Alyssa Wong (Tor.com 3/2/16)
‘‘Welcome to the Medical Clinic at the Interplanetary Relay Station│Hours Since the Last Patient Death: 0’’, Caroline M. Yoachim (Lightspeed 3/16)

Congratulations to all the nominees, and particularly the winners!

What readers hate about books #MFRWauthor

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For week 22 of the Marketing for Romance Writers blog hop, the prompt is:

My Biggest Pet Peeve in a Book

[image error]That’s an easy one: I hate when a novel isn’t good enough to finish.  I used to finish everything I started. No more. Nowadays a book has to earn the right to monopolize the hours of my life.

That’s not a very helpful answer, though, so I offer a recap of an old post. In 2014, the Paranormal Book Club recently asked their readers what is the “ONE thing you CAN NOT stand about a book when reading it?” I categorized the responses, and present them here to you from the smallest peeve to biggest.

#10 Weak female characters. In a genre largely aimed at female readers, you’d think writers would know better.

(tie) Books in a series that end inconclusively. Readers seem to have problems with the endings of series books. See also numbers 8, 5, and 3.

#9 Killing off a main character. George R.R. Martin, please note. If you stop slaughtering your cast, Game of Thrones might actually amount to something.

#8 Waiting for the next sequel in a series to appear. George R.R., you should be careful about this one, too.

#7 Too much recapping. Obviously, this applies primarily to books in a series. And to soap operas.

#6 Sexual dysfunction. Not what you think! This includes gratuitous sex, boring sex, and overly graphic sex.

#5 An unsatisfying ending.  See also numbers 10, 8, and 3.

)

#4 Annoying or whiny main characters. I was astonished at the number of times the word ‘whiny’ appeared.

#3 Cliffhanger endings. These are, apparently, common in a certain type of series. Readers think they’re a Very Bad, No Good, Horrible ploy to get readers to buy the next book in the series. But I bet it works.

#2 Too much description. Overwhelmingly, readers complained about description that slowed down the action. J.R.R. Tolkien, please note.

#1 (by a wide, massive, overwhelming, 3 to 1 margin) Typos, bad grammar, and bad editing. Self-pubbers, please note–get your masterpiece edited and proofed BEFORE you publish it. Please, please, please![image error]

Read the original, rather longer, post.

Click here to enter your link and/or check out the cool romance writers taking part in this blog hop.

My hospital gown fluttered to the floor #MWTEASE

[image error]I’m trying something new this week — the Midweek Tease blog hop, run by Angelica Dawson, in which writers post teasers about their newest release, or their work-in-progress, or their backlist.

In Newborn, a science fiction romance, my heroine is born fully grown, well-armed, and eager to assassinate her nation’s most wanted fugitive. Because she was designed to live for only the few hours needed to do the hit, her programming is, shall we say … incomplete?

In this teaser, she awakens after a fall with broken limbs and a concussion — and finds her prey’s bodyguard, Darby Lapierre, posted outside her room. Jo’s ignorance and naivete (among other things) are on full display.

Darby  was evil, the enemy of my Destiny, so I leaned to within a handbreadth of his nose to annoy him. “You destroyed my clothes?”

“Out of my face, woman.” He gently pushed me back … and I lacked the strength to resist. “A nurse put your stuff in the hall closet so she wouldn’t wake you.” He pointed.

I stood carefully, determined to show no pain. If I moved slowly, dizziness merely growled instead of lunging at my throat.

Creases wrinkled the corners of Darby’ mouth. The creases were … dimples? Yes, dimples. How could an enemy have a face so appealing that my belly — though not my brain — felt warm and trusting?

I turned, slowly of course, toward where he’d pointed.

“Uh, Josette, your hospital gown is open at the back.”

That observation didn’t seem to require a response. I staggered five baby steps. Upon reaching the closet, I leaned against the wall as my head zoomed in wild circles, turning up into down and down into sideways.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

The deity’s name by itself imparted no information, and in any case it wasn’t as important as getting dressed so I’d be like everyone else. The closet door had a round, fist-sized thingy at waist height. My mind didn’t supply a name. When I grasped it, it wiggled, and when I turned it, the door opened. Doorknob, my mind belatedly explained.

My clothes hung inside, but my guns were gone. My packsack sat on the floor — minus, I already knew, my ten-thousand dollars.

Darby’s footsteps hurried toward me. “Wait, Josette,” he said in a rush. “I’ll help you to your room and bring the clothes to you.”

But I was already untying the bow at the back of my neck. As he reached me, my hospital gown fluttered to the floor.

Click here to view teasers from other great writers trying their hardest to tempt you.

Newborn

She was born to kill. Not love.

[image error]Jo Beaverpaw is born fully grown, well-armed, and impatient to tackle her Destiny … killing her alien nation’s most wanted fugitive. Her life is pre-programmed and straightforward – until she meets the sexy bodyguard of her intended target.

What if Schwarzenegger’s robot assassin in the original Terminator had been a bad-assed (yet petite) female?  To find out, read Newborn.

Effing Feline has the heart of a Jedi

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Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior / Sunday Snippet posts on Mr. V’s behalf. Click the pic for info.

I, Effing Feline, sniffed the stench of skepticism and, worse, condescension about my post last week, explaining the feline origins of Star Wars. Woe unto ye of little faith — more proof follows this advertisement for my human pet’s WIP, tentatively titled Secrets of Love and War.

Cynthia O’Connor is accompanying a youthful alien clan sister, Kaushelle, to Peace to All Species Park when war with Earth breaks out. Cynthia struggles through a crowd to drag Kaushelle to the safety — and almost makes it.

As Cynthia and Kaushelle approached the safety of the tunnel that led out of the park’s ravine, something huge screeched out of the sky onto the path ahead of them. The tail assembly of a shattered Terran bomber?

The ground shook.

Dirt flew.

Sentients screamed.

And Elder’s Parang, the park’s largest, most prized tree, planted at the park’s founding nearly four thousand years ago, splintered into the air as though it were no heavier than a wisp-hair seed. Its intricate leaves, proven to quell even the worst fevers, shriveled into foul-smelling flame.

A wave of dirt, debris, and body parts raced across the ground toward Cynthia like an avalanche of war. She tried to grab her clan-sister in a protective bear hug so they would at least meet their deaths together — but fate laughed at her puny efforts. When the wave hit, Kaushelle’s hand tore from her grasp.

Effing Feline here again, with utterly incontrovertible proof that Star Wars originated as a mighty feline epic!

Be sure to visit the other Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday posts.

 

Jiggers, it’s da cops! #MFRWauthor

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After a week’s absence, I’m back for week 21 of the Marketing for Romance Writers blog hop. This week’s prompt is:

A Childhood Memory

My first thought was to write about the double date on which I met my wife-to-be (she was with the other guy), but I was sixteen, thus not truly a child. So let’s go with the first time I was hauled into a police station.

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“Jiggers”, by Jay Norman. A humorous look at a small town police force.

I was around nine and basically innocent … but if you’re born into the wrong neighborhood you’re de facto guilty of having wild friends, of hailing from an immigrant family, of living and playing on the edges of industry.

“The policeman is your friend,” they taught us at school.  Well … maybe.

One day a gang of (mostly older) boys had a Cowboys-and-Indians shootout with our toy guns.  We were all sorry when Albert got an accidental gash over his eye, requiring stitches, and even sorrier when the blood brought in the authorities.  We’d played in an abandoned warehouse, and we weren’t supposed to be there. No trespassing signs went up shortly thereafter.

The police brought us into the station, one by one.  In university I took a class called Deviant Behavior, in which I learned that a prime determinant of whether ‘juvenile delinquents’ like me became criminals was that they were treated like criminals during their first encounter with the law.

That’s how I was treated.  Nine years old and terrified.  A policeman broke my toy rifle (not a BB gun) by slamming it repeatedly against a radiator.

Did I become a criminal?  No, thank God, though this wasn’t my last youthful brush with the law.  When I hear complaints about police brutality, my mind defaults to believing every word.  My wife, on the other hand, defaults to disbelieving.

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I’ll bet you recognize this movie, right?

What about you?  What childhood memory (hopefully not as traumatic) stands out?

Click here to enter your link and/or check out the cool romance writers taking part in this blog hop.

My hospital gown fluttered to the carpet #MWTEASE

[image error]I’m trying something new this week — the Midweek Tease blog hop, run by Angelica Dawson, in which writers post teasers about their newest release, or their work-in-progress, or their backlist.

In Newborn, a science fiction romance, my Native American heroine is born fully grown, well-armed, and eager to assassinate her nation’s most wanted fugitive. But because she was designed to exist for only a few hours, her programming is inadequate for a prolonged life.

In this teaser, she awakens with broken limbs and a concussion after a fall — and finds her prey’s bodyguard, Darby Lapierre, posted outside her room.  Jo’s ignorance and naivete (among other things) are on full display.

Darby  was evil, the enemy of my Destiny, so I leaned to within a handbreadth of his nose to annoy him. “You destroyed my clothes?”

“Out of my face, woman.” He gently pushed me back … and I lacked the strength to resist. “A nurse put your stuff in the hall closet so she wouldn’t wake you.” He pointed.

I stood carefully, determined to show no pain. If I moved slowly enough, my dizziness merely growled instead of lunging at my throat.

Creases wrinkled the corners of Darby’ mouth. The creases were … dimples? Yes, dimples. How could an enemy have a face so appealing that my belly — though not my brain — felt warm and trusting?

I turned, slowly of course, toward where he’d pointed.

“Uh, Josette, your hospital gown is open at the back.”

That observation didn’t seem to require a response. I staggered five baby steps. Upon reaching the closet, I leaned against the wall as my head zoomed in wild circles, turning up into down and down into sideways.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

The deity’s name by itself imparted no information, and in any case it wasn’t as important as getting dressed so I’d be like everyone else. The closet door had a round, fist-sized thingy at waist height. My mind didn’t supply a name. When I grasped it, it wiggled, and when I turned it, the door opened. Doorknob, my mind belatedly explained.

My clothes hung inside, but my guns were gone. My packsack sat on the floor — minus, I already knew, my ten-thousand dollars.

Darby’s footsteps hurried toward me. “Wait, Josette,” he said in a rush. “I’ll help you to your room and bring the clothes to you.”

But I was already untying the bow at the back of my neck. As he reached me, my hospital gown fluttered to the carpet.

Click here to enter your link or view teasers from other great writers in the blog hop.

Newborn

She was born to kill. Not love.

[image error]Jo Beaverpaw is born fully grown, well-armed, and impatient to tackle her Destiny … killing her alien nation’s most wanted fugitive. Her life is pre-programmed and straightforward – until she meets the sexy bodyguard of her intended target.

What if Schwarzenegger’s robot assassin in the original Terminator had been a bad-assed (yet petite) female?  To find out, read Newborn.

Effing Feline loves the original Star Wars

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Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior / Sunday Snippet posts on Mr. V’s behalf. Click the pic for info.

I, Effing Feline, find today’s snippet inspiring. Invading an alien world … sigh.  My fur rises at the very idea.  I’m sure the invading spaceships in the snippet are being flown by fearsome felines. After all, everybody knows that George Lucas stole the idea for Star Wars from cats.

Here’s the inspiring snippet from Ed’s WIP, Secrets of Love and War. Cynthia O’Connor is accompanying an alien clan sister, Kaushelle, to Peace to All Species Park when war with Earth breaks out.

“War was promised never to reach the capital,” Kaushelle screamed — but the screech of sirens and the pounding of explosions put the lie to that promise.

What to do?  For several heart-thumping moments, the cacophony of war drove rational thought from Cynthia’s mind.  Then she knew.

Get Kaushelle to safety.  Guard the girl with her own life.

The gloomy sky flashed a blinding white, then red, then rumbled with an angry series of explosions.  Bombs or debris from an air battle might fall on them in the open; it wasn’t safe here.  The familiium’s prime directive was to take care of each other, so she must keep the girl safe, must.

But Kaushelle darted back to pick up the hollow reeds they’d gathered to make primitive flutes for her music class.

Effing Feline here again. Do you doubt what I said about felines and Star Wars? Hiss unto you, disbeliever!  Click below and learn THE TRUTH!

Be sure to visit the other Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday posts.

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The Trial of Tompa Lee is available for free in the

Alien Adventure and Romance cross promotion, so check it out.

Thanks, Judith Tarr – Yes, Women Have Always Written Space Opera

Judith Tarr (a fellow Tucsonan, I’m proud to say) recently posted a great article about female authors of science fiction, along with a slew of recommendations for writers you may not have discovered yet. Highly recommended!

The TOR site has no ‘reblog’ option, so, I’ll give you a short taste along with a link.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

From Dark to Dark: Yes, Women Have Always Written Space Opera

Judith Tarr

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Illustration by Gino D’Achille

Every year or two, someone writes another article about a genre that women have just now entered, which used to be the province of male writers. Usually it’s some form of science fiction. Lately it’s been fantasy, especially epic fantasy (which strikes me with fierce irony, because I remember when fantasy was pink and squishy and comfy and for girls). And in keeping with this week’s theme, space opera gets its regular turn in the barrel.

Women have always written space opera.

Ever heard of Leigh Brackett? ? Andre Norton, surely?

So why doesn’t everyone remember them?

Because that second X chromosome carries magical powers of invisibility. Women writers don’t get the reviews. Don’t get the promo. Don’t get the Serious Critical Attention. They’re ignored or dismissed as “not important.” They are, in a word, erased. X’ed out. Forgotten. . . .

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

They aren’t forgotten on this site or any other site devoted to science fiction romance. Click to read the whole article — as I said before, it’s highly recommended!.

Effing Feline honors his mum

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Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior / Sunday Snippet posts on Mr. V’s behalf. Click the pic for info.

I, Effing Feline, want to honor my mummie. Problem is, I don’t really remember her. Based on the best evidence I have, though — namely her offspring, ME — I can extrapolate what she must look like.  Strong, noble, powerful, like so:

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Today, another snippet from Secrets of Love and War, Mr V’s current WIP. We’re continuing where last week’s snippet left off. In response to loud sounds from the sky, Cynthia O’Connor’s clan sister cries “War comes?”

The girl hunched over and covered her earpads with saucer-like hands.  Riksids’ ears were less sensitive than humans’, but Kaushelle was a mere adolescent, and timid.

Cynthia reached for Kaushelle’s arm but lost her balance and splashed to the cold, soft mud, landing on her backside with face raised to the war-torn heavens.  With her ears and mind numbed, vision mushroomed to encompass the world.  The sky above was an opaque sheet of clouds hiding behind the lacelike branches of a gourdwillow tree, with a bright green lorzential dangling from a branch.  Hidden by the clouds, more sonic booms exploded as the unseen enemy invaded the sky.

“So soon,”  Kaushelle screamed, “your people reach us so soon?”

Cynthia pulled one hand from the muck’s embrace, then the other, dripping a torrent of muddy water as she rose.  “Humans aren’t my people, you are—we’re members of the same familium.”  She was Riksid only by adoption, but still…

Effing Feline here again. I just got an IM from an impertinent reader who is undoubtedly a (sneer) dog person. Yes, Ms Smartass, I know I’m a domestic shorthair and the picture is a lioness — but you must admit that the picture capture my heroic spirit!

Be sure to visit the other Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday posts.

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Secrets of Love and War is a working title that may or may  not last. Here’s the book’s tagline:

The destinies—and hearts—of a nurse and an injured enemy pilot become entangled as they search for the horrifying truth underlying the war between their planets.

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The Trial of Tompa Lee is available for free in the

Alien Adventure and Romance cross promotion.

The Ideal Hero? MFRWauthor

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For week 19, the Marketing for Romance Writers blog tour prompt is:

The Ideal Romance Hero

Well, I’m a guy, a straight guy, so by all rights I should excuse myself from this one.

Nah. Since when has being unqualified ever kept me from having an opinion?  So here are two opinions, one facetious, one serious.

1. Facetious Answer

Me.

You’ve all seen those hunky heroes on the covers of romance novels. Washboard abs. Handsome as hell. Allergic to wearing shirts.

[image error]That is not me — and yet, I’m a real live Harlequin hero. You see, I inspired the hero in a romance novel. Truth, I swear.

Twenty years ago, I inadvertently gave Vicki Lewis Thompson, who’s now published 100+ romances, the idea to write Mr. Valentine, about a guy who writes a romance. Vicki and I were critique group partners at the time, and the book went on to become a Rita Award finalist. Read how it happened..

Not even a great writer like Vicki could turn someone like me into a he-man, so her hero is a nerd … one of the first of her many nerdy heroes.  That said, I do look a tiny bit like the guy on the original cover. Okay, looked, past tense.

Except that I wear shirts.

2 Serious Answer

A decent man who is NOT a sociopath.

I’ve read way too  many books in which the author wants her hero to be an ALPHA — but goes too far and turns the guy into unfeeling narcissist or sociopath, incapable of empathy or caring about anyone or anything. Of course the love of the heroine magically turns him into husband/relationship material.

Sorry, folks. Not even ten years of therapy will change a man with such a personality disorder into a a candidate for a happily ever after. Ain’t gonna happen.

Beyond mere unbelievability, if we as writers project rose-scented myths about hyper-alphas, it’s possible we may be encouraging unsuspecting women to enter abusive relationships. How to spot sociopaths and narcissists.

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Click here to enter your link and/or check out the other great romance writers taking part in this blog hop.