Paula’s Comments (group member since Oct 28, 2015)

Paula’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Justin wrote: "Hopefully a good "interesting" and not a bad "interesting." LOL! Thanks Paula!"
Yes, of course, Justin! Sorry I didn't make that clear.

Loved the story, Jeremy. Funny and beautiful and so original!
Hmm, Lake Tahoe region meets Marin Co. (California), as it were. Or Italia (or Chilean?) lake district, ftm.
Nice one, Tom. Well paced, very involving.
Interesting piece, Justin!

Excellent work, Marianne--well paced, well imagined, well constructed, beautifully conceived, and superb details/action movement! Plus a fine, strong protagonist, and just some wonderful, wonderful lines and images. You better write lots more now; this is your second especially superb story here in the past several months; you are really doing magnificent writing.

Cool sock-it-to-ya ending in that story, Jot!

Wishing you an easy and totally successful surgery, Joseph, and a swift recovery!

Tom wrote: ""Story: Simulation" by Paula Friedman

Like a half-dream-half-waking intoxicated trip through a life, stream-of-consciousness memories flowing from half-recalled childhood memories through erotic, ..."
Thanks, Tom. Glad you liked the imagery and sense of a young couple living each other's dreams.
My apologies for not making the concepts-play (with ideas of "simulation"/"reality" and "dream"/"waking") clearer, but delighted you found beauty in the flow.

Good stories indeed, guys! Congratulations!

Sweet line and story-ending, Greg.
I remember there are fine lakes around the Lake George area, J.F. and Jot. Wonderful region!
Jot, I used to know people working for the Patent Office. They're mostly conscientious and dedicated, engineers and experienced in the work, and will most probably do an excellent job with your application. Good luck with this.

*"Insulate your home to allow for less heat and a/c consumption."
Good point indeed. It requires, of course, that one (1) have a home, (2) be in control of whether the home gets insulation (and, ftm, of the type of heating and whether or not a/c)--which mostly requires owning the home, and (3) being able to invest in the costs for insulation and/or efficient heating and a/c methods. I don't know to what extent Republicans and other fiscal conservatives--in particular, the large proportion who believe in what we used to call "laissez-faire" economics--are aware what is necessary for such home control to be available to most citizens.

Tom wrote: "Life is catching up with science fiction. And, not in a good way."
Yeah, there's that, Tom. Maybe we can effect some positive shifts, though.

Jot wrote: "Paula> crackerjack, first-rate, Jot!

Thanks Paula. Hope the air is a bit better out by you now. My sons in Seattle said they had to keep their apartment windows close for 10 days. I think the smok..."
Jot, thank you. The air was very very bad here for about 3 days, then only bad for another few days; for the past 3 days or so, it's been fine. But I'm very near Portland; a few miles away are the outer evacuation zones and, a few miles farther on, some of the closer ruins from where the wildfires hit.

Great review writing on this one, Tom! Must be an intriguing film, too.

Greg wrote: "Paula, I was inspired by a convergence of several Covid-19 Activities:

One was watching A Netflix Documentary series, called “High Score,” about the history of video games. While watching it, I sa..."
I suspect Jot'll tell you to hold the extra words/ending for after the voting, Greg. At least, he made me cut the extra words from my Iditarod-spinoff tale, for the judging. --Very interesting background to your story; you've still ten words in which to show the protagonist and the damsel seeing themselves in each other--(or cut a few words here and there to get more than 20 words to play around with?). It's awfully good as is, you know--maybe you can keep this one more or less as is, and then do a long version, even a novella?!

Posted mine. Enjoy!
And no, am not channeling Barthelme. I got there the same, honest way he did.

Greg--marvelous tale! I loved it--a daring story, and it works!

Story: Simulation
Copyright © 2020 by Paula Friedman

Unlike John-Bo or his sister Maia, Johnny always feared that he was really living in a simulation—was indeed a part of that simulation. Mom would just laugh, back then, and as he worked his way up through the years, Jackson Elementary School to Alice O’Dell to Wilson High, then on to college at Oxphordesque, Johnny came to know (well, “Not that we really ‘know’ anything,” he’d say, back then, waiting for a sophomore to answer “Yeah, including that!” so he could wisely laugh)—he came to know, in the course of these years, that, there being no verifiable difference, “This simulation we really live in” meant no more (nor less) than “This [pointing or reaching gesture] we live in.”

“Oh.” Mary, his current beloved and sharer of the $3800/month rent on their Russian Hill apartment, whispered. Her long, thin fingers seemed to rustle softly, as if nuzzling, in his still-thick curly hair. “And you feel no difference between this”—they made a stroking motion, sliding further down—“and this?” They had slid much further now.

The sun was going down (Johnny liked using metaphors) beyond the ocean’s red-gold “metallic” gleam, when Mary, whom he could see in silhouette against the burnished beams, called from the kitchen, “Hop up, lazybones, time for our pasta oro y coquilles con la sauce tomate aux herbes. Or”—voice lowered—“une tres bonne simulation thereof.”

Really great to have a multilingual girlfriend. Johnny stretched, turned over on the all-natural-fibers mattress, and sat up. “Hey, Honey”—no, he knew this was still Mary, but he wanted to be sure; there’d been so many years, so many of them—“Mary? Mary, yeah, I’m coming.” Only, Mary had stepped into the room, his big studio room with its view (so like a simulated vision, the Bridge and Coit Tower and the Bay and, stage-rear-left, as it always was, the ocean’s gleam, now twilit); she seemed to materialize beside him.

“Let the dumb pasta cool,” said Mary. She leaned into his side. This time, she really did nuzzle—no wait, that was Clementine, his sweet absyssinian. He heard Mary murmur “My turn, Clem”; then there was mostly silence awhile.

“But what would it mean?” Mary’s voice was wide awake again. “Suppose we are simulations? What if a glitch?”

“No glitch, Hon. Simply the two of us.”

“And the rest of the world not intrude.”

“Yeah but how'd that line get in here? Some songwriter or other's.”

“I believe, an author’s. And, John”--Mary’s eyes went wide at her own thought. “Y’know what? Know what? That’s what songwriters and authors do—and film-makers!”

Johnny found he was smiling with her. “What, love? Whadda they do?”

“Pull us. Pull us into their simulations.”

“Yeah, right. Drag us in and stick us there. Hey, wanna watch some Netflix ‘simulations’ before we go to sleep?”

Only, Mary was shivering. ‘To sleep, perchance to dream.’ I mean, I’m actually scared, John. Suppose really we’re only—”

“A dream? Yeah, but that bit’s been done. Done to death, so to speak. Shakespeare, Descartes. Aay back to India, even—religion, myths—even before. Even a sci-fi novel once, ‘When Shiva Wakes’—something like that.”

“So many lit references tonight.” Mary had jumped up. In the half-darkness, she stood, her fingernails tapping—tap-tap, tap-tap—against the wall panel. “Lotsa mansplaining too, by the way.”

“I’m not—”

“Are too.”

“Fu—k off.”

Now she has to say “We already did,” or “Been there, done that,” John thought. But Mary was leaning toward him, reaching her hand to his and saying, “Let’s not fight, let’s just be, love. Come morning, who knows what’ll be important? Come for a walk—thoughts get cramped, inside.”

“Sure.” That was Mary—wise chick. “Yeah, clear our thoughts a bit.” He got to his feet. “Hey, take a sweater, case it gets cold. Your pretty green one.” 'course, in a real simulation, where they’d live and love forever, he could simply flick Rewind, decode their glitches, write “. . . ever after,” press the Warm key; Mary wouldn’t ever have to be cold.

And he didn’t want Mary cold.

*
Now she was laughing. That happy laugh. “Like, in a movie, is there anything outside? Or if what there is--if we want to escape? Is there an exit key?” Eyes meeting his. “Like now, when we open this door.” Her slim, fine fingers turned the

[740 words]

So hey, I voted for your story, Thaddeus, and am not "no one." I know what you're saying, though. In fact,, one can simply write stories, using the months' story prompts, for one's pleasure and story-telling practice, without overmuch concern for the voting. And, as we all know, the aesthetics of members of this group have varied over time--so that the group's tech emphasis and focus on solid story rather than literary characteristics, although it has mostly held over the past 3-4 years, was not always there, and could open up to other forms and focuses again, depending on the group's make-up. But in any case, *you* should be concentrating on sending your superb works to major science fiction periodicals, online and print--imao.

Very fine story, J.F.--in fact, wonderfully evocative, with characters we immediately connect with (especially "the old woman" and Pinkhas and, to a bit lesser degree, Eric and his mother(?)/girlfriend(?). And a whole world-scene with its tech wonder for keeping half-dead people's minds alive in the simulations--plus the (a) world of the simulation, with its fairy-tale-like old wise couple . . . except they seem also like God-like space-spanning other beings--beings of myth or religion, perhaps. . . we are led into many byways and layers of meaning. It's as if you had written in 700 words a full novel, with all its layering, its peopling, its landscapes, its ambience and universe. An amazing job. My caveat is that at places--mostly in the first paragraph, where things are a bit confusing (natural enough in a first paragraph, but you can easily polish for transparency there)--the story might benefit from another 50 to 250 words to fill in where bits or references outward are not yet clear.
Mainly, though--a magnificent story, first-rate work.

Congratulations, Greg. Well-structured, well-written, and elegant story!

Chris wrote: "Paula, wow. Thanks so much for your critique. You really made some amazing points. Sadly, I won't have time for these corrections by the deadline, but I'll be sure to include your recommendations w..."
I'm flattered and honored, Chris. Glad if these comments can be useful to you. Please work up the story once the contest's over; it's a story that can be quite wonderful!

Chris, this is a wonderful story, potentially one of the best in this group this year. It needs a few minor polishings, though. Here, In no particular order:
The ending--the last 2 paragraphs or so really add nothing, but mostly draw out what you've said in the previous paragraph: the avatar-creatures/memorials/zombie-machines/ghosts are dangerous, and, even as Styles and his men have shot them, more come out and so, yes, the ship better flee. If you want to keep Lucius's line "It isn't worth it," good but remember, the least distance there is between his remembering his daughter's death and her transformed violence and end on this planet, the more the readers will feel *what (sort of) loss* Lucius (and the author) is saying "isn't worth it" (as well as what sorts of striving this "it" can more generally encompass).
(Have you by chance read Balzac's classic of French literature, The Quest of the Absolute, by the way? It concerns a scientist/alchemist who in effect wipes out his daughter's life chances (and his own) as he chases the alchemist's stone.) (Or Andersen's "The Red Shoes," ftm!)
Use simpler "dialogue tags", generally "He said," "He thought," "He asked" tend to suffice. "He ratcheted," "He word-twisted," "He dialected," or other complex ones just draw attention to the verb and away from the story world.
Some of the paragraphs, where the subject matter gets dense/complex or delve into memory or complex creatures/motives/actions, have some sentences not in tone with the rest of the tale; they need to be simpler and stronger. As you all know, I've hardly against long sentences--or even against switching tones in a story--but in this 2 or 3 cases, they weaken the story. First one is when he remembers how his daughter died; redo the last 1/2 or last 1/3 of that paragraph, Chris, in simpler prose,; understate it a bit, and shorten the paragraph; it'll have more effect, seemingly more effortlessly, that way. And when the A.I./avatar of the daughter appears and attacks, gory is fine, clanking is fine, but simplify/clarify and shorten the sentences, and tighten that paragraph by 50 percent. Also, simplify/clarify the fight scenes/paragraphs and simply, clarify, and tighten (condense *and* shorten) the protagonists' discussions/thoughts, there, about what these creatures are; you need short and simple and quickly-flashing-by there.
It's not really a lot of changes, just normal polishing-job, I think. Yet well worth it.