Michael Swanwick's Blog, page 201

A Happy Day on Mud Level Road

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Marianne woke up this morning with the desire to see a snowy owl.  So we jumped in the car and drove off to Cumberland county, near Carlyle, where one had recently been seen.  We found the intersection of Duncan and Mud Level Roads and . . . nothing.

At this point, I could build up suspense by detailing which roads we went down and where we got lost and . . .  But what the heck.  We finally regained Mud Level Road and found a knot of birders watching what turned out to be a prairie falcon (common enough in the West, but astonishing in Pennsylvania).  Not long thereafter, a man who was what Marianne calls a "Saint Matthew birder" -- a proselytizer, out of love of the Good -- gave us detailed instructions to where a Townsend's warbler had been seen, pointed out that there were horned larks in the stubbled field alongside us, and then drove off.  Only to reappear, driving backwards, less than a minute later, to tell us that the owl had been seen on Duncan Road.

So we drove until we saw a knot of cars pulled off the road and there, visible in the distance a mile away, was . . . a small white dot.  Not a good enough viewing, even through binoculars, to be sure of anything.  Luckily, some Amish birders were there and offered to let us look through their spotting scope.  (Birders are awfully likeable people.)  So we hung about, looking and admiring and talking with other birders, for quite some time.

After which, we followed the directions to the house of a man who took birding very seriously and allowed visitors (for the occasion) to watch his feeders from his porch.  There, we and he and a class from Dickinson College saw:

hairy woodpeckers
downy woodpeckers
cardinals
tufted titmice
mice
white-breasted nuthatches
blackcapped chickadees
white throated sparrows
a carolina wren
juncoes
and the Townsend's warbler

Mostly, though, I was impressed by how kind and friendly everybody we met was.  Of course, they were birders and that explains a lot.  The countryside was beautiful too.

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The Russian Clown Slava Polunin

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I spent the day writing, so I have no adventures to relate, other than the adventure of writing hard and well and productively.  Which is half of what I live for, but not much fun for others to watch or to hear about.

So posted above is a clip of the great Russian clown Slava.  He lives in that dark and beautiful space where despair and wonder meet.  And should he ever wander into one of my fantasy novels, he'll find a warm welcome there.

Title Above:  If I ever wrote a story about Slava, that's what I'd call it.  But it would be a sad story, so out of respect to to the man, the story will never exist.  Save possibly in an anthology in the Library of Dreams.


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Elephant in the Snow

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A gray sky, melting snow, and lots and lots of fog.  It's a formula for beauty.  But I spent most of the day indoors, working on a new story that's just reached that point where everything starts to fall together and you can imagine it being done soon.  Maybe even this week.  Maybe even tomorrow.

But that's not all I did today.   I've just sold three stories to Tor.com!  In one day!  I'm betting that, so far, that's a record. 



And speaking of limericks . . .

The Isaac Asimov/Science Fiction Day Limerick Competition has only eight more days to run.  I gave it all of January because I figured that some people might need the time.  But as it turns out, the kind of people who write limericks are naturally quick-witted because the bulk of the entries were made in the first day or two.

But there's still time for more!  Here are the rules, as I originally states them:

The limerick must be clean, formally correct, and witty.  The judgment of the Blue Ribbon and Not at All Nepotistic Jury of Family will be final.  You can post your entry here or in response to any other blog entry for the rest of the month.  And I'll announce the winner on February 1.


Above:  I spotted this elephant today in Chestnut Hill.  Drugs may well have been involved.  Not on my part, however.

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Honoring Gene Wolfe

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On March 17, Gene Wolfe will be honored with the first Fuller Award, acknowledging his lifetime achievement to literature, at the Sanfilippo Estate, outside of Chicago, by the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame.Needless to say, I will be there.Also present to honor Wolfe will be  Neil Gaiman, Peter Straub, Michael Dirda, Luis Urrea, Audrey Niffenegger, Jody Lynn Nye, Patrick O'Leary, and quite probably others.  Peter Sagal, host of NPR's news quiz show Wait Wait … Don't Tell Me!" will be the toastmaster and the master of ceremonies  will be Gary K. Wolfe.Which is to say that I'll be hanging with exactly the sort of people I hoped I'd be associated with when I was a gonnabe writer, many decades ago.That's not why I'm going, however.  I'm going to pay homage to the man who is the greatest living writer in the English language alive today.  I'd say "in the world," but I can only read the one language.  In that language, however, I am confident.  I have read the works of every writer who might conceivably be a contender and, while I am of course floored by the virtues of their work, Gene is simply the best our culture and civilization (such, as H.L. Mencken would have said, as they are) can boast of.And he's a science fiction and fantasy writer!  How wonderful!  It's like discovering that the best writer in the world lives next door.  He could have lived anywhere and written anything.  But he chose to hang out with us.  That's just damned cool.You can read the press release here.
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Visiting Winter

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I had an eminently satisfying day yesterday.  It began with a visit to the Carle Museum to see the show of Jules Feiffer's children's book illustrations  Then Marianne and I jaunted up to Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, to ogle the glacial potholes.  A few of which are shown below.




Which (along with many other such features) exist directly below the falls:




You've noticed the snow.  I came from Philadelphia which is cold but snow-free, so tromping about a small town where many of the sidewalks are covered with snow that's been trodden down to ice was like making a trip to visit winter.

After a late lunch at the Foxtown Diner, we hit the road again, traveling by small back roads and stopping in the occasional bookstore.  Dinner at  seafood restaurant, where I had Rhode Island clam chowder for the first time, and back to the hotel to veg out with our new used books.

So I did not one virtuous thing all day.  It was great.

Above, top:  "The Red Elephant" by Mo Willems, in front of the Carle.

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Visiting Emily

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I arrived in Amherst today and immediately went to Emily Dickinson's grave.  It's easy to find the graveyard, but nowhere, apparently, are there directions for how to find the grave itself.  So here's the trick:  The Dickinson family is the only one surrounded by a wrought-iron fence.  Once you know that, locating the grave is simplicity itself.

Dickinson -- or, rather, our imagined image of her -- exists right at the nexus of text and biography.  Half of the interest in her derives from her poems, which are intense, compact, and unlike anybody else's.  The other half comes from her having lived an enigmatic life, into which can be read pretty much anything your predispositions dictate.

How you divide up your interest in her (if interest you have) depends entirely on what you value.  Me, I judge writers by what they write.  Which is why I'm here to pay my respects.

God bless ya, Emmy.  Sleep in peace.


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The Queen of the Night's Aria Ruined for Your Pleasure.

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I'm packing for a trip to Amherst.  So today's blog will be brief.  Here it is:

Rainer Hersch spoils Mozart for you!  Enjoy.


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The Colbert Super PAC

.I don't sling politics on this blog because (a) I have no particular insight into them and (b) I have no desire to offend people who disagree with me politically, as many of my friends do.  But what Stephen Colbert is doing with his Super PAC has nothing to do with Right and Left partisan politics.  He's addressing a problem that makes people on both sides of the aisle unhappy -- the distorting influence of money on our system.

When I was an undergrad in William and Mary, a Republican member of the House came to speak and was generously honest about what being in public service was like.  One extraordinary thing he said was that he envied Teddy Kennedy because he had "a constituency of voters" -- i.e., he got enough contributions from regular voters that he didn't have to go the special interests, hat in hand.

This guy struck me as a pretty good Joe.  It seemed a pity that he had to go shopping around for sponsors whose causes were close enough to his honest beliefs that he wouldn't feel too unclean at the end of the day.  So I couldn't help thinking of him when Colbert started this campaign.

And you have to admit the Colbert Super PAC is producing some pretty funny commercials.


The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30cColbert Super PAC Ad - Undaunted Non-Coordinationwww.colbertnation.comColbert Report Full EpisodesPolitical Humor & Satire BlogVideo Archive

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Write What YOU Know

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So yesterday I asked you who first advised gonnabe writers to "Write what you know'?  As expected, nobody guessed.  That's because, though the aphorism is thrust upon us with all the force of Authority, nobody ever actually cites the original authority.

It was Ralph Waldo Emerson.  In his journal, in May of 1849, he wrote:

Immortality. I notice that as soon as writers broach this question they begin to quote. I hate quotation. Tell me what you know.

Which is actually good advice.  If modernized to, say, vampire novels, it would urge you not to write vampires which are imitations of Anne Rice's or Charlaine Harris's or Stephanie Meyers's vampires but to "write what you know" about vampires.

And, incidentally . . .  those teachers who took "write what you know" and used it as a club to drub you about the head and shoulders for writing fantasy or science fiction?  They were completely wrong and deserve no more than a D-minus and possibly quite less.


Above:  There he is, the man himself.  Ironically his remark is usually misquoted as "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."  This is why the original can be so hard to find.

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Write . . . What You KNOW???

.Over on Facebook, Jeff Ford posted:

I see a lot of advice on the internet from writers and others based around the question as to whether to "Write what you know" or not. Some people get really adamant about this stuff. LOL! The message should be "Write whatever the fuck you want."

To which Kit Reed amplified:

I add:  I don't know what I know until I start writing it.

Both of which are good and wise observations.  But that original bit of hectoring advice... Everbody knows of it.  But how many of us know who originally said it?
I do.  And I'll tell you tomorrow.  See if you can guess.
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