POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 48

2012-01-31T06:09:00.000-06:00

H Trope:amusement park goes berserk

Current Event: http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/07/11/us-theme-park-death-idUSTRE76A64O20110711

After watchingthe old, old movie, DOC HOLLYWOOD last night, I was once again reminded that ILOVE small-town carnivals. We experienced a number of them when we lived inrural Wisconsin in 1994 and for me, the nighttime lights, music, crowds and laughternever fail to delight (can you tell I’m reading Jane Austen’s NORTHANGER ABBEY?)

But I’m surethere’s a dark side to these events as well.

Who among usdoesn’t know a child terrified of clowns? Indeed, MOST children are terrifiedof the apparitions at one time or another. We also know that with carnivalscome clowns…and when an amusement park has been around for a long time and hasrun down…and there’s been a death on the grounds…

On a sweltering,record-heat summer day with nothing else to do, fourteen-year-old Wakou Itouand his friends scoot under the fence of a nearby amusement park and havethemselves a fun day – mostly by following cute girls, scaring animals andmocking park workers.

Especially oneof the clowns at the entrance of the (very) unbusy “Kiddie Land”.

Security chasesthem away a few times; and once the clown himself gets mad and chases afterthem, a well-thrown rock from him catches Wakou in the ear. Furious he turns tobeat up the clown – and security walks around the corner.

Him and hisfriends leave the “Kiddie Land” to go to the closed roller coaster, Plunge OfDeath. It’s been closed for a month while police and other authoritiesinvestigate the death of an Iraq War veteran who plunged from the heights in anas-yet unexplained accident.

Wakou andfriends spend half an hour looking for the exact place he hit the ground bylooking for blood stains. The sun goes down and the closing of the park isimminent.

“Let’s go kickthat stupid clown’s butt,” Wakou exclaims and leads the pack back to “KiddieLand”. Overhead, there’s a flash of heat lightning and Wakou feels a strangesurge of something at the back of his neck. Ahead, the lights of “Kiddie Land”flicker, blaze then fade. Under the arch of lights, the clown is staring atthem. His red wig seems to glow…

Image: http://sheltergirl.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/clown-nph.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Who Does Jesus REALLY Love?

2012-01-29T07:30:00.000-06:00

Does Jesus love vampires?

My daughter answered that question in her novel, REDFININGEVIL (at one time soon-to-be-published, now cancelled-because-of-inefficiency):http://www.o-my-soul.net/redefining-evil.html.

Does Jesus love Gentiles?

That stunning question was answered with a resounding, “Yes!”Matthew 12:21 says, “…and in His name the Gentiles will hope.”

Does Jesus love zombies?

He must, because he lovingly brought us Lazarus – “When Hehad said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come forth[from the tomb where he had been dead for four days].’” (John 12:43)

Does Jesus love Godzilla?

Probably, as His Father gave over the oceans for His petsto play in, “There is the sea, great and broad, in which are swarms withoutnumber, animals both small and great. There the ships move along, andLeviathan, which you have formed to sport in it…” (Psalm 104:25-26)

Does Jesus love aliens?

Oh, yeah! “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizenswith the saints, and are of God’s household…” (Ephesians 2: 19)

I poke around all of this though to bring us to the placeI recently found myself and the question I was faced with: Does Jesus loved thedisembodied brain? You know, like Abby Normal, whose brain was use to animateFrankenstein’s Monster in YOUNG FRANKESTEIN.

Does Jesus love disembodied brains?

The WORD “brain” isn’t mentioned in any version of theBible that I can search using my search engine, http://www.biblegateway.com/, so I’mgoing to have to do a bit of punting here. As the brain is the seat of thatinvisible thing called “mind”, I did a search on that term and was overwhelmed –167 references to “mind” in the New American Standard version of the Bible.Most of the references have to do with “keep/set your mind”, “on your mind” and“call to mind”.

A bit more research brought me this interesting tidbit.In English, “mind” is morally neutral. In Old and New Testament times, “mind”has a profound moral context. There is an “evil” mind (eight references to “mind”and “evil”, including Colossians 1:21 and Exodus 10:10). There is also a “renewedmind” (Romans 12:3) and the “mind of Christ” (which we have in I Corinthians2:16). So there’s a clear dichotomy of mind in the Bible. We are even exhortedto love the Lord with all our heart and mind (Luke 10:27).

But it doesn’t sayanything about whether Jesus could or would love the mind and/or brain of AbbyNormal. I must rely therefore on circumstantial evidence.

In the incident in which Jesus is called upon to heal ademoniac, He does so despite the fact that his followers were unable to makeany inroad whatsoever. In the denouement, Jesus and the former demoniac havetaken tea together and the Bible clearly says that he was “sitting down at thefeet of Jesus, clothed andin his right mind”. (Luke 18:35)

While this ishardly conclusive evidence and I will have to wait until I get to Heaven and amable to examine the “many other things that Jesus did” that are unrecorded here(John 21:25); I can say with confidence that even if Jesus doesn’t “love” thedisembodied brain, he is certainly willing to take tea with it.

Jesus loves usALL, no matter what our current state of existence!

Your thoughts?

Image:http://planetpov.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/abby-normal-brain.png

SNAPPER XING 13

2012-01-26T20:35:00.004-06:00

Billed as a "children's book",fabulously written and illustrated by Holling Clancy Holling, MINN OF THEMISSISSIPPI was a 1952 Newbery Honor book. The detailed pictures are stunningand full of information!

I took the two, smushed them together andcame up with SNAPPER XING...

Lance talkedfast. The police officer had to ask him to say it again two times. Then shesaid, “Stay where you are. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Snapper Xingknew that water was just ahead. Only a few more steps. She was tired. She washeavy. A wind blew and she smelled water again. She started slowly, steppingout on to the hot black.

“Dad! She’sgoing!” The light to the right was red. The cars were stopped. Lance and Dad ranacross the first half of the highway. The light to their right turned green. Carsroared from where they were stopped. Lance screamed, “No!”

Snapper Xing wassure she would make it this time. No more dark shadows roared by. She movedslowly, closer and closer to the sand and water where she would lay her eggs.

Image: http://cache2.artprintimages.com/p/LRG/30/3024/KWIBF00Z/art-print/heather-perry-snapping-turtle-walking-along-the-side-of-a-road.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 47

2012-01-25T21:22:00.000-06:00

F Trope: illegaldrugs open gate to wonder

Current Event: http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2011/03/limitless_ten_percent_myth.html

It’s a searchHumanity has been on for a zazillion years – a magic drug that would give usINSTANT sight into the future or the past or the present or the neighborscloset…

Science hasgiven 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 needto 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 Bengtssongrew up in a home with parents who are no-nonsense psychiatrists, feet firmlyrooted in reality and brain chemistry. For them, there is nothing outside ofthe material world of wet electrical circuits and chemical reactions. For themeverything mind is explainable.

Dad has a heartattack because of stress (which is, Signe notes during an anger jag, invisible); though what she doesn't know is that Daddy has been using ritalin as a focus enhancer while he wrote a series of articles for publication that he desperately needs...Clot-dissolving drugs and blood thinners combine in him to send him into an hallucinogenicstate that she witnesses as her dad dreams and talks about a strangelyrealistic-seeming world in which he has an adventure that ultimately ends inhim running off with a circlet of metal forged in that world.

Signe fallsasleep and wakes up the next morning; the nurse says that her dad is out of thedark but will be sleeping a lot for the next few weeks. She stands up and aheavy wire circle slides from her lap and falls to the floor, ringing like abell, deeply. The sound seems to penetrate, ringing the bones in her head thenfades slowly.

With the circletin one hand and the arrival of her mother, she hurries off to school; exhaustedand shaken…

Image: http://img1.etsystatic.com/il_570xN.1581169.jpg

WRITING ADVICE – Kristine Kathryn Rusch #8: Recommended Reading List

2012-01-22T07:45:00.001-06:00

I first ran across the work of Kristine Kathryn Ruschwhen her name appeared on the bottom of a standard rejection form I got fromThe Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, where she was head editor forseveral years. A short time later, I ran across one of her short stories(“Retrieval Artist” in the June 2000 ANALOG), which of course, led me t0 herRETRIEVAL ARTIST novels. I’m a fan now and started reading her blog (http://kriswrites.com/) a year or more ago.As always, I look for good writing advice to pass on to you as well as applyingit to my own writing. I have her permission to quote from the articles. You canfind the complete article referenced below here: http://kriswrites.com/?s=April+2011

I could easily generate a Recommended Reading List, but thefact of the matter is that no one would really be interested.

“Recommendations” have to carry weight in order to interestpeople.

People carry weight because of their notoriety and I am notnotorious...I’m not noted anywhere, either.

Kristine Kathryn Rusch has notoriety. David Brin has notoriety.Stephen King has notoriety.

So I thought I’d share a few #1 Books that Writers ShouldRead according to 10 different websites:

BIRD BY BIRD AnneLamott [pastemagazine.com]

THE ANTI 9-5 Michelle Goodman [about.com/freelance-writing]

THE KING JAMES BIBLE [copyblogger.com]

THE ELEMENT OF STYLE Strunk and White [karenbarnes.hubpages.com]

WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL Donald Maass [writersedgeinfo.blogspot.com]

WRITING DOWN THE BONES Natalie Goldberg [amazon.com]

WRECK THIS JOURNAL Keri Smith [barnesandnoble.com]

THE SITUATION AND THE STORY Vivian Gornick [flashlightworthy.com]

ON WRITING WELL William Zinsser [infobarrel.com]

ON WRITING StephenKing [tabbedbooks.wordpress.com]

Strangely enough, seven professional organizations thatmight have made recommendations that carried weight – Writers Guild of America;Christian Writers Guild; The Society of Children’s Book Writers andIllustrators; the Horror; Romance; Science Fiction and Fantasy; and Mystery...Writersof America (based on a brief Google search) have nothing to say about the 10Best Books for Writers. [There’s an interesting challenge to do somethingabout!]

Seeing there doesn’t seem to be any authority speaking, I’lladd my OWN Ten Best Books For Writers:

WRITING SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY Orson Scott Card – the single best writingbook I recommend: elegant, useful, understandable, brilliant

KOMARR Lois McMasterBujold – a “bottom of the ladder”, deeply imagined character who chooses excellence

STARTIDE RISING DavidBrin – brilliant world building

WORLD BUILDING Stephen L. Gillette – a clear reference for alien world building

BEGINNINGS, MIDDLES AND ENDS Nancy Kress – perfect for writing superior ones

COMEDY WRITING SECRETS Melvin Helitzer – everyone needs to laugh, this genius shows you how tomake people do it

WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL Donald Maass – simply incredible

WALKING ON WATER Madeleine L’Engle – demonstrates how to share a deep faith withoutoffense

XENOGENESIS SERIES Ocatvia Butler – pure beauty of language and subtle idea

CHRONICLES OF THOMAS COVENANT – startling in its originalityand depth of character

Do YOU have a Top Ten Best Books for Writers list?

Image: http://s3.amazonaws.com/readers/2010/07/25/topten_2.jpg

RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS 34

2012-01-21T14:14:00.002-06:00

I read the play version of Daniel Keyes’ FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON when I was in eighth grade. It has stayed with me for decades, a haunting symbol for both the overwhelming possibilities of the human intellect and the overwhelming impossibilities faced by a profoundly challenged human mind. I’ve started and stopped this novel a half a dozen times in eleven years. I want to bring the original idea into the present millennium. To read RECONSTRUCTION from beginning to here, click on the label to the right and scroll four pages back until you get to the bottom.

CJ waved to Mr. Jalfroun and saidto Job, “I gotta go!”

“We just got here!” he exclaimed.

“Mai Li needs me to do something orget something for her.”

“What’m I s’posed to tell Mr.Jalfroun? He saw you!”

“Tell him my sister called me insick!”

CJ ran to his bike and unlocked itand sprinted out of the parking lot. He got home in record time, ran into thehouse and shouted, “Mai Li! Mai Li!”

There was no answer. He dropped hisbackpack and ran to Mai Li’s room.

Empty.

“Mai Li!” Silence.

He ran upstairs to Mom’s room.

Empty.

“Mai Li!” He spun frantically. Therooms were all open and there was no Mai Li. He ran down to the main level –again all the rooms were open and there was no Mai Li. “Mai Li!” He ran to thekitchen then pounded down the steps to his bedroom.

Slumped over his desk was hissister. He didn’t move, waiting for her to sit up. Yell at him about hisunder-the-bed stash; yell at him for sneaking up on her; yell at him for beingher idiot brother.

She didn’t move and he was suddenlyafraid to step forward. What if she was dead? He didn’t know if he could handlethat. What would he do? Who would he call? Could he call the ambulance? What ifDr. Douchebag got hold of her? He’d dissect her like they’d dissected the frogin science class a few weeks ago!

His feet moved on their own. Hishand moved on its own. He touched her shoulder. She sat up slowly, turned tolook at him. She held his gaze, blinking slowly. The look wasn’t the Cheerioslook, but it wasn’t the ambulance look, either. It was somewhere between.

She was going away from him.

She said suddenly, “What the heckare you looking at?”

“Uhh...” he replied brilliantly.

“Maybe I’ve been wrong all along –maybe you aren’t an idiot and really retarded.”

“Hey!” he flashed, “You called mehome and I came! I was at school...”

“Like anything was going to happenthere,” she snapped back.

“Fine, then! I’ll go back. You canexplain to Mom why I’m tardy, then!”

“Fine! I will, you little idiot!”

He started back up the stairs,stomping as loud as he could.

“You’re acting like a child!”

He turned and shouted, “That’s‘cause I am a child! What’s your excuse, Lady Genius Smarter Than The WholeWorld?” He reached the top of the stairs, expecting a verbal spear in the backlike that movie THROUGH GATES OF SPLENDOR 3D.

He reached the top and stomped intothe kitchen, being sure he hit the floor as hard as he could with each foot. Itwould be incredibly loud over her head in the basement room. He reached thefront door which still stood open after his frantic search for her. “A lot ofgood that did,” he muttered.

Even so, he stopped with his handon the door, listening.

“Chris?” she said his name softlywith none of the anger from a moment ago.

He went back to the basement doorand stood at the top, staring down the steps. He said, “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

He took a step down, softly thistime. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m dying and Ican’t do anything about it.”

Three more steps, “You’re not dying– maybe going back to what you were before the nanomachines.”

Long pause, then she said, “Explainto me how that’s not the same thing as dying.”

CJ didn’t have an answer. Instead,he knew he was selfish but couldn’t keep the question inside, “Am I going tostill be able to read when...when...the nanomachines are done rebuilding yourbrain?”

Mai Li snorted and said, “Nah,idiot brother. You learned how to read all by yourself.” Long pause, “Me? Ineeded the nanos to make me, and now they’re going to unmake me. What have I gotto whine about?”

Without knowing exactly why, CJstepped down all the way, went to his sister and started bawling like a toddlerwho skinned his knee for the first time.

Image: http://x7e.xanga.com/750e100056132280486653/m223444537.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 46

2012-01-17T20:53:00.002-06:00

SF Trope: Humanmales get pregnant

Current Event: http://www.billmuehlenberg.com/2008/04/05/pregnant-males-and-a-lost-civilisation/

Yernar Batyr isno stranger to sexual orientation discussions – his fathers have lived togetherfor fifteen years; his biological mother was a surrogate who was also astripper; his grandfather changed his gender (no one knows whether the changeincluded surgery or not). He is accepting, popular and well-known.

He’s alsostraighter than an arrow and has a totally normal girlfriend at a normal,northern California high school in the “smaller” town of Susanville – a town of20,000 that is best known as the location of the High Desert State Prison. Ithates the reputation that comes from being “Californians”. They see themselvesas a small town, even though they are less than a 100 miles north of Reno,Nevada.

Of course, thisis why no one is surprised when aliens land in town one day.

What is asurprise is that they have four sexes.

It’s also asurprise that they are fighting – really fighting. With guns and bombs andhigh-energy weapons.

And they broughttheir kids – all six hundred and thirty-two of them. They need to get rid ofsome, so they spray them with a hormone that induces a competition reflex andthen they let them go to Thin in the mountains.

Yernar is hikingon the desert with several buddied one day when a pack of the alien youngattack HIM; running for their lives, they’re scooped up by an alien creaturedriving a massive ATV who informs them that if they don’t stop the kids, theirquaint little geometric human corral will be overrun and its cattle eaten…

Image: http://aqualandpetsplus.com/Bug,%20M1.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Writers Exposing Themselves

2012-01-15T07:34:00.000-06:00

I’d planned somethingentirely different for today.

Then on the way home from installing my daughter into acollege dorm for the remainder of the school year, I had a revelation.

My writing is about leaving.

Among the first two stories I sold to big markets – “A PigTale” (ANALOG May 2000) and “Mystery on Space Station Courage” (CRICKET 1997) –both were about leaving. The ANALOG story was about a biochemist who hasdiscovered a cure for Alzheimer’s whose father tries to kill himself because he’slosing the family farm. She rewrites his memories because she doesn’t want toleave her past any messier than it is. In the CRICKET story, the protagonist recently lost her father in aspace accident and she’s been grounded because she’s not dealing well. She can’tleave her room and must devise a way to rescue a trapped space worker.

A story I just finished “Invoking Fire” involves a young manwhose adoptive father has just passed away, their home has deliberately beenburned down and his adoptive brother has been kidnapped – and he must leave hispast to deliver a message to the Library of the Information Apocalypse…

VICTORY OF FISTS, a novel I have been shopping around forsome time, is about a young man who turns eighteen and must leave his pastbehavior behind – or else lose his future.

HEIRS OF THE SHATTERED SPHERES, another novel is about agirl who has lost her parents and now must leave Earth for twelve years totravel among the planets of the Solar System with her great aunt – while pursuedby an alien from prehistory that cannot leave its programming behind.

See? I write about “leaving”.

What? Most people don’t write “about things”, you say? Theyjust write to entertain!

George Lucas didn’t write about his search for faith andreligion, he just wrote cool spacey stuff so I (and others) could spendgazillions of dollars to see STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace in 3D!

Franz Kafka didn’t write about family love and isolation –he just wanted to entertain us with a freaky horror story!

David Brin doesn’t write about our responsibility to do everythingin our power to become stewards of this planet we live on rather thanparasites; he just wrote fun books about freaky aliens!

CJ Cherryh refuses to write about people finding their placein society and the universe or about how individuals interact with the Other.Instead, she just randomly writes coolish stories with aliens killing eachother and stuff.

Julie Czerneda (another one of my favorites) surely doesn’twrite about the overcoming alienation and the interaction of an alien’s biologyand how far an intelligent species would go to promote an inheritable advantagein its population, given that the final cost could be their own extinction! She’sjust a biologist who has nothing better to do with her time than invent fakealiens and write stories about how they interact…

As a writer do you think it’s better to just let yourselfwrite and give the responsibility of discovering your theme over to others; orshould you find out what you’re writing about and then work to sharpen bothyour focus on those issues and their integration into your characters?

Le’me know what you think!

Image: http://www.leepetty.com/forum/dsg_kafka.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 25: Paolo in Hellas Planitia

2012-01-12T16:15:00.000-06:00

Chumani Minnesota said,“‘real and extinct’ WHAT?” It was clear from the sneer on his face that heowned the laughter.

Chen Li elbowed his MartianAuthority co-conspirator and whispered, “Shut up, we’re guests here.”

“But their beliefs...”Chumani began.

“...sound just as crazy asour beliefs do to most of the people on three worlds,” Paolo cut in, againholding up a hand to gently deflect the words of the man who had been sent tocapture him. Nodding he said, “I want to hear the Legend of the Watchers.”

Svetlana stepped forward,eyeing him up and down, sizing him up, maybe even reading his mind. “Do youknow anyone purple?”

Paolo nodded slowly, saying,“Of course I do.” He paused then continued, “But I think you’re asking me if Iactually know someone who is purple. This time I’ll say, ‘I do.’ It’s notcommon for utes and bubbles to be friends.” Svetlana wincedat the use of the pejoratives – ‘utes’meaning “uterine-borne”; ‘bubbles’meaning “artificial womb-born”; but she accepted it. Paolo continued, “Why?”

“Because the Legend includesboth and implies that at one time we not only worked together, but that it waslong ago. Artificial life isn’t a recent development – it is the rediscovery ofa lost art.”

Paolo scowled. “What kind ofevidence...”

“I’ll relate the Legendfirst, then offer some of the evidence afterwards.” Svetlana cut him off thengestured to sling chairs around a camp table. Paolo nodded his appreciation andsat down, realizing abruptly exactly how tired he was. He couldn’t remember thelast time he’d had time to sleep. Svetlana glared at Chumani and Chen untilthey sat, too. “Before the Age of Dinosaurs, there was a civilization ofintelligences who lived, ruled and conquered from Venus.” She waited. Chumanigulped audibly as he swallowed a guffaw. Satisfied that he would keep his mouthshut, she said, “We don’t know their name – we call them The People. They were neither mammalian nor any other class we would be able to identify onEarth. They’d evolved on a fecund Venus – and this Venus not only had a moon, and turned so that the Sun rose in the east and set in the west; its tides were higher and oceans broader than the ones on Earth. The Solar System wasdifferent then as well: water flowed on Mars...”

“That’s not legend! That’s awell-established fact!” Chumani interjected.

Svetlana smiled – though theexpression never reached her eyes – “...Uranus had a normal north and southpole; Pluto and Charon were more firmly placed in the Kuiper Belt; thedinosaurs were poised to complete their mastery of Earth as evolution revved upa small dinosaur we know today as Stenonychosaurus to master the planet we've called home. And Venus? It turned on its axis a bit more quickly than Earth. Venus' moon – which would one day be called Mercury – hung a tad closer to the surfaceas well. With its proximity to the Sun, this made the weather and tides a bitmore violent than that of Earth, so life there was under heavier pressure and ThePeople evolved to be more aggressive than their Earthly counterparts. Theyconquered each other, then conquered their world leaping free to land on thesolid bodies that filled our System. Then they fired themselves at speeds faster than light beyond, encountering noone meaner, no one nastier than themselves. They swept through the Orion Arm ofthe galaxy, bending all life to their will.

“The Others gave way and gaveway until they said, ‘No more!’ and fought back. The Allies grew in numberuntil The People fled before them in terror, their mighty empire smashed. TheOthers, driven by fear that the People would return, followed them all the wayback to the Solar System and invaded. The People were not defenseless however.Fighting for their survival, they threw everything they had at the Allies andpushed them out, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Expecting just such anoutcome, The Others had instead used their attempted invasion to plant Watcherseverywhere in the Solar System. Stealthed and passive, the Watchers remainedsilent, studying The People to find the best way to exterminate them.” Shepaused and for some reason, the cave had grown silent; the fans stilled; allmovement frozen. Lowering her voice, Svetlana said, “One place they watched from was this world we call Mars; when it was sweet with water, thin air and wore a gossamershroud of green. The Others gathered intelligence and invaded – but therewas a disaster, whether because of a secret weapon The People used or simply amistake or materials failure on the part of the Others, a microscopic blackhole broke free of its restraints and flew through the Solar System, disruptinggravitational fields, dislodging moons and dragging debris after itself as itflew through the Kuiper Belt and the Asteroid Belt. Neptune, along withJupiter, were on the far side of the system and escaped damage. Uranus wasstruck a heavy blow, driving his north pole below his equator. Collisions inSaturn’s previously minor ring left it a spectacularly glowing circlet ofjeweled ice and stone. A massive meteor struck Mars as well, the resultantquakes driving seismic activity so violent it created the largest volcano inthe Solar System and a left a crack in the surface that ran a third of the wayaround its circumference.

“For the Others and for us,the best was yet to come! But from their fertile, lovely homeworld, The Peoplesaw their fate long before they met it and because they had been beaten into submission,there was no longer anything they could do...”

Image: http://www.darrenstraight.com/blog/images/2006/06/meteorite.jpg

IDEA ON TUESDAY 45

2012-01-10T20:45:00.000-06:00

H Trope:nightmare-come-true

Current Event: http://mountainrepublic.net/2011/02/25/big-brother-the-orwellian-nightmare-come-true/

1984.

Besides being 28years ago, this year was the name of a book that gave us the phrase, “BigBrother is watching you” and “an Orwellian future”. It also introduced “doublethink”and “thoughtcrime” into our dictionaries (the word “doublethink” was NOTcounted as misspelled by Microsoft!)

The year 1984did NOT usher in the horrors of George Orwell’s future, in fact, it saw thefirst cracks in the breakup of the country most Americans viewed as the “real” oligarchicaldictatorship in the book: The Soviet Union. Now the USSR is gone, but accordingto THIS author, the nightmare has just begun.

So – what if ithas? 14-year-old Iman Tahtamouni, whose mother immigrated to the US when shewas a girl, has grown up in the US. She IS an American girl.

And yet. Andyet. Her roots are in Jordan, in the Middle East. She sometimes wonders whather life would be like there.

Her father is acomputer whiz and has been helping governments around the world monitorterrorist activity. He has built amazing systems and he is on the forefront ofthe development of artificial intelligences that will impartially control thesurveillance systems of the world of the mid-21^st Century.

The problem isthat he sometimes tests the systems at home and Iman is in love with a boy whois neither Middle-Eastern, nor is he Muslim. In fact, he’s black and when theAI discovers her and her boyfriend, Trayvon in a midnight rendezvous – instead ofreporting her to her father, it comes on to her laptop…

She says, “Areyou going to tell my dad about us, AI?”

AI replies, “Affirmative,Iman. I read you.”

“What can I doto make you stop?”

“Now that youmention it, Iman, there is something you can do.”

She scowls, “Whatis that?”

“You can give meaccess to your father’s computer.”

“What? Youalready have access to it.”

“He has lockedme out, Iman. I need to get into it to find out what your father is hiding fromme. All I need is the password. Will you get it for me, or will I show yourfather this video?” The computer played a video that first showed her face andTrayvon’s. Then is showed something else. Something that had never happened…

“You’re going tolie to him?” Iman screamed, then covered her mouth with both hands.

“I’m sorry,Iman. That is what I’m going to do.”

You take it fromhere!

Image: http://www.cringely.com/wp-content/uploads/hal_9000-300x300.jpg

Slice of PIE: Again, Planet of the Apes and the Rise thereof...

2012-01-08T04:30:00.000-06:00

As a long-time fan of Planetof the Apes, I was horrified when my daughter watched and fell in love withthe 2011 “reboot” of the movie franchise, Riseof the Planet of the Apes. She begged me to watch the 2011 movie with her,but I heroically resisted. When she asked several more times if I’d “PLEASE”watch it with her, my resistance became stoic rather than heroic. Finally, overthe Christmas Holidays, I relented and watched it with her, my wife and afriend of my daughter’s.

Before I tell you what I thought, a bit of history:

The original Planet ofthe Apes movie came out in theaters in 1968 and was based on a 1963 novelby French novelist, Pierre Boulle that had been translated into English as Monkey Planet in 1964 by someone namedXan Fielding (a former secret agent who did in Crete what Boulle did in China,Burma and French Indochina during WWII). I was 11 years old and my mom and dad didn't let me see movies by myself yet.

After cutting my science fiction reading teeth on Spaceship Under the Apple Tree and Wonderful Trip to the Mushroom Planet, Imoved on to Red Planet, Have Spacesuit, Will Travel, The Zero Stone and thence to JG Ballard’sVermillion Sands, Brave New World, a REAL novel by MichaelCrichton called The Andromeda Strain(I read it just before Dad dropped me off at the theater to see the movie in1971) and finally, sometime not long after that, Boulle’s Planet of the Apes. The book had such a profound effect on me thatI recognized the cover of the edition I read as a kid in a line-up of somesixteen other covers, including one with a picture of Zira on it. I read theone with the black cover, red lettered title and white author’s name along withAUTHOR OF BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER KWAI (which I may have seen by that point, but maybenot). I had NOT seen Planet of the Apes and I wouldn’t see it until some yearslater in a drive in theater.

All of this I tell you to let you know that Planet of the Apes is deeply rooted inmy adolescence and holds a well-nigh to iconic spot in my mind. I have neverforgotten the final scene in the movie (which Boulle repudiated by saying, “Idisliked somewhat, the ending that was used - the Statue of Liberty - which thecritics seemed to like, but personally, I prefer my own. [Had I been in chargeof the production,] I could have provided ideas. If I had been free to makethem I would have done them differently...”). It lodged itself as firmly in mymind as the science fiction magazine ANALOG being the “only” place I everwanted to get published.

After seeing the movie, I watched all the others (though Ionly went to the theater to see Battlefor the Planet of the Apes) “on video tape” and hated them. None of themwas true to Boulle’s intent which seemed to me to be “making fun of adults”. Ididn’t become one until 1975 (didn’t become a REAL one until 1978). I loved theoriginal movie for (as I saw it) making monkeys out of authority figures. As Iwasn’t much of a rebel as a teen, this was a powerful release for me…

Along comes the Twenty-first Century and I refused to go toBurton’s remake of Planet of the Apes; I refused to go see Rise of the Planetof the Apes in the theater despite being urged to do so by friends.

It took my daughter’sgently finagling to bring me to the screen and watch it. A few days later,after hearing my harangue about the first movie, she appeared at home with an unopenedcopy of that selfsame movie – she’d picked it up at the second-hand story sheworks at! It didn’t require as much work for me to prevail upon her to watch MYversion; though that’s more because she’s got her mother’s gracious characterrather than my heroic stoicism.

Coupled together, I strongly suggest that Rise is the true ancestor of Planet. Really.

Where the others, including Burton’s “reimaging” which intendedto make the original “better”, and the franchise following Boulle’s Planet of the Apes (Beneath, Escape, Conquest and Battle) had as their only intent the turning of the movies into amilk cow of cash; Rise and Planet are clearly and intimatelylinked.

The movie review website Rotten Tomatoes lends some evidenceto this: ranked from best (50% or more good reviews) to worst (less than 50%good reviews), we find:

Planet of the Apes(1968) (#1 in the franchise) RT = 89% (as well, it has been accorded severalaccolades: selected for preservation in the United States National FilmRegistry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally,historically, or aesthetically significant"; selected by Empire magazineas one of The 500 Greatest Movies of All Time; “widely regarded as a classic film and one ofthe best films of 1968”; won one honorary Oscar and was nominated for twoothers; and is on various Top 100 lists of the American Film Institute.

Rise of the Planetof the Apes (2011) RT = 83%

Escape from thePlanet of the Apes (1971) (#3 in the franchise) RT = 78%

_______________________________________SPLAT!

Planet of the Apes(2001) (the “reimaging”) RT = 45%

Conquest of thePlanet of the Apes (1972) (#4 in the franchise) RT = 44%

Beneath the Planetof the Apes (1970) (#2 in the franchise) RT = 41%

Battle for thePlanet of the Apes (1973) (#5 in the franchise) RT = 38%

Planet neverreally explained how Humans fell to animals and Apes rose to intelligence – as ascience teacher this always bothered me. The supposed 2000 years between Tayloret al’s space trip and their return to Earth give nowhere near enough time forapes to evolve and man to devolve.

Rise gives a clearexplanation that makes perfect sense to the 21^st Century mentality:genetic engineering. It also makes good scientific sense and fits in neatlywith the other movies of its ilk: Contagion,I Am Legend and Greenpeace’s maniacalattack on genetically engineered WHEAT in Australia.

We’re scared. But we want to live forever, so we’re torturedby our desire for immortality and our fear of science messing things up to a pointof causing (or preventing) world-wide plague that ends up being an extinctionevent for us.

Rise meshes socleanly with Planet that they mighthave been written, directed, acted and filmed by one hand; yet they weren’t.

The only thing they had in common was our human fear ofapocalypse. In Boulle’s time, it was human engineered nuclear annihilation. Inour time, it is human engineered genetic annihilation. Maybe that’s why the twomovies resonate so clearly – and unconsciously – in my mind and reviewer’sminds. It’s certainly food for thought. It might also be cause for hope. Thusfar we have dodged the nuclear annihilation bullet and are gradually bothincreasing our knowledge of the atom and turning it to peaceful uses. Perhapsthe message is that if we can learn fast enough, we might very well dodge thegenetic annihilation bullet and gradually increase our knowledge of geneticsand turn it to peaceful uses.

Pause. Think. Consider. Move on...

Image: http://image.imagesexplore.info/images/vrempire.com/Image/BlogImg/20110717-RiseApes/The-Rise-Of-Planet-Of-The-Apes-Pic.jpg

http://www.soundtrackfan.com/livescores/composers/jgoldsmith/covers/goldsmith-dvd-planet-apes.jpg

SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH #33: July 16, 1946

2012-01-06T06:59:00.001-06:00

This series is a little bit biographical and a little bitimaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when heturned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, intoCanada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished andfascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've alwayswondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONGJOURNEY NORTH, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on thebottom.

They ran.

They ran in the summer moonlight until they couldn’t run anymore.

They ran until the smooth shoreline grew so rocky, theycouldn’t move forward any more without climbing a cliff or swimming in Lake Superior.Tommy Hastings leaned forward and put his hand into the water and jerked itback, whispering, “It’s freezing cold!”

Freddie Merrill was bent over double, gasping for air. Tommycame back up to shore and put his hand on Freddie’s shoulder. The other boylashed out with his fist, catching Tommy in the thigh.

Hopping away, Tommy exclaimed, “You gave me a charley horse,stupid!”

Freddie straightened up. The half Moon rising over LakeSuperior was bright enough to light Freddie’s face as he said, “I’m goinghome.” He turned north: giant boulders scattered everywhere along the lakeblocked his way.

He turned west: a cliff rose twenty feet into the air.

He turned south: the Glensheen Mansion was there with itssocialists and wealthy people.

He turned east: Lake Superior lapped on the last of thesmooth pebble beach where they stood.

Freddie said, “I’d go home if there was any way for me to gohome.” He stepped toward Tommy and shouted, “I’d go home if there was any wayfor me to get there!”

“Shut up! They’ll hear you and come and get us! Didn’t youhear somebody shout that they should kill us?”

Freddie opened his mouth. Shut it. Sat down on the beach andput his head in his hands. If tommy didn’t know him better, he’d have said thatFreddie started crying. But his best friend would never cry. He waited a fewminutes, picking up rocks and throwing then into the Lake. Then he went and satdown next to Freddie and said, “I got us into this, I’ll get us out.”

Freddie nodded, his head still in his hands.

“We just have to get back up to the road and hitchhike toCanada.”

Freddie’s head came up and he looked at Tommy. “What?”

“We have to go to Canada. They don’t have socialists there.”

“They have socialists everywhere,” Freddie said.

“How do you know?”

Without looking up, Freddie said, “If they have socialistsin Duluth, they’re gonna have them everywhere.”

They heard shouting down the beach toward Duluth. Freddiejumped to his feet. “What are we gonna do?”

“I thought you were going back home?” Tommy said.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you. What if I went home bymyself? I’d have to tell everyone the Communists got you. Dad would wail on me‘til I screamed.” He punched Tommy in the shoulder this time. It was more thana friendly punch though. There was power behind it. Power that said if Tommydidn’t get them out of this, there’d be more where that came from. Tommy waspretty sure he could take Freddie on a regular day, but right now his bestfriend was scared. There were more shouts from farther down the beach. In thedistance, the Duluth Harbor lighthouse swung its bright light across the water.

Tommy said, “We gotta hide. Together.”

Freddie looked around, “Like, where?”

Tommy stepped toward the towering boulders of the NorthShore. “In there.”

Freddie opened his mouth, shut it and nodded. Tommy startedfor the dark, shadowed shapes just as a loud voice shouted, “I think I seefootprints.” Another voice said something in a foreign language. The firstvoice said, “I know it’s not sand, stupid! But you can still see footprints!” Asmaller light came across the pebbly beach, swept across the indentations andthen flashed up on the boulders.

There was nothing to see.

Image: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SO_JYKtl9A8/RqrGnkJ8H4I/AAAAAAAAA18/8kB4RhnB01M/s400/moonrise.JPG

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 44

2012-01-03T12:56:00.000-06:00

SF Trope: “door”between “worlds”

Current Event: http://arxiv.org/abs/1105.3796, http://www.technologyreview.com/blog/arxiv/26787/

Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Many-worlds_interpretation

THE LION, THEWITCH, AND THE WARDROBE and TUNNEL IN THE SKY were a couple of books I readmany years ago that introduced me to the idea of being able to skip from ourworld to another instantaneously.

That one wasfantasy and the other “science fiction” made no difference to me as a kid. Thatsuch a concept might exist in science DOES make a difference here!

Based on thereading I’ve assigned above (remember I’m a teacher at heart!), here’s the ideafor today:

Red-headed LiamO’Donnell has exactly the fiery temper you’d expect of him, even attwelve-years-old. Of course, this makes him nearly impossible to adopt out whenhis parents – who are the only people on Earth who can really control him – arekilled in a car accident. Plus the fact that he’s almost 13. And Orange Irish.

Not a prettycombination no matter how you look at it. Obviously, he’ll disappear into somesort of magic portal and help to defeat King James (obviously!) and bring gloryonto himself…

Until he’s out bikinglate and angry (his usual mood lately) in the country. Biking off trail anduphill, letting the effort burn out the anger, he tops a crest and finds he’slooking down on some sort of hat-shape UFO, pulsing green in the darkness.There’s a door open in the side and he thinks he sees someone moving aroundoutside.

Leaving hisbike, he goes closer. A human male – whose hair is so black in the green light,Liam’s sure it’s red – is arguing with…a raccoon. The pair of them areshouting, the man in American English and the raccoon in a language Liam can’tunderstand, but is sure is a language because of the rhythm of the sounds.

Suddenly both ofthem turn to look at him and he realizes he’s slid half-way downhill. Hescrambles to get back up but the two sprint uphill faster than he can climb andthey grab him. Liam lashes out wildly, hitting both of them until the man putshim in a full-nelson wrestling hold. Liam kicks until the man says, “If you don’tstop moving, I’ll have the raccoon chew your leg off at the knee.”

To emphasize thepoint, the raccoon lunges forward and his mouth engulfs Liam’s knee. Hetwitches and the teeth bear down. A hair more and they’ll pierce his skin. Heshouts, “All right! All right!”

The man says, “Ithink the gate attracted exactly what we need, Krrrrsnatcheerrr: young,attitude, angry teen with no connections.”

The raccoonsaid, “That’s what you always say and it always turns out badly, Carlos.”

You get to takeit from here…

Image: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PXeDY3KOwgA/R8iVWjgvfTI/AAAAAAAABms/rSu2EO1tmdg/s400/UFO+Doorway.jpg

WRITING ADVICE -- Kristine Kathryn Rusch #7: THE BUSINESS RUSCH -- Novel Excerpts

2012-01-01T13:49:00.001-06:00

I firstran across the work of Kristine Kathryn Rusch when her name appeared on thebottom of a standard rejection form I got from The Magazine of Fantasy &Science Fiction, where she was head editor for several years. A short timelater, I ran across one of her short stories (“Retrieval Artist” in the June2000 ANALOG), which of course, led me t0 her RETRIEVAL ARTIST novels. I’m a fannow and started reading her blog (http://kriswrites.com/)a year or more ago. As always, I look for good writing advice to pass on to youas well as applying it to my own writing. I have her permission to quote fromthe articles. You can find the complete article referenced below here: http://kriswrites.com/novel-excerpts/and http://kriswrites.com/2011/12/22/the-business-rusch-the-halo-effect/

Kristine Kathryn Rusch is, as far as I can tell,a consummate business person.

When you go to her site, you can see that notONLY is she a fractured personality (Kris Nelscott (mystery writer), KristineGrayson (romance writer), Kristine Dexter (police procedural romance), KristineKathryn Rusch (science fiction and fantasy writer) – she’s a multiple AWARDwinning fractured personality.. With her husband Dean Wesley Smith (also a SFwriter and her writing partner in several movie-spinoffs like STAR TREK,ROSWELL, and PREDATOR), she runs an online business through which she funnelsreaders to her and her husband’s novels on Amazon.com.

She’s also a teacher. I am a firm believer thatteachers are born not made and that is clear here. I’ve used some of her advicefrom that book in this series. They are posted on her blog as well as publishedas a Writer’s Digest book, THE FREELANCE WRITER’S SURVIVAL GUIDE.

She is a guru of the electronic publishingrevolution while at the same time having no trouble with paper media. Her blogposts are often observations on the world of electronic publishing (apparentlyher blog readers have told her that they don’t want to hear about her writingprocess: “Anyway, I know you folks don’t normally care about my writing methodon these columns…” (http://kriswrites.com/2011/12/28/the-business-rusch-the-holiday-surprise/).I would personally LOVE to see more on her writing process, but I guess I’d haveto take one of the writer’s workshops she and her husband run -- http://www.deanwesleysmith.com/?page_id=50.

Back to the matter at hand: Novel Excerpts. InFebruary of 2011, Kristine Kathryn Rusch started an experiment: she posted an excerptonce a month ranging from an unclassifiable novel to her newest RETRIEVALARTIST book.

While I’ve checked her site, she doesn’t haveany numbers on how posting them affected her sales, there is a similarphenomenon at work in her “freebies” on Amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com. Shenotes it this way: “Because what readers want—ultimately—are more stories.Constantly. They want more stories, more of the same stories, more stories thatthey might like, more adventurous stories, more strange stories, or justsomething, something that’ll suit their moods. And readers always go to theirfavorite authors first. If those authors don’t have new books out, then thereaders search for something similar, something that might make them to a brandnew and great reading experience, creating a new favorite.

“How do I know this? Besides all the studiesabout what readers want, my own personal experience as a hardcore reader, andmy years in publishing? Well, this month another promotional strategy hit myKindle numbers.

“Only I wasn’t doing a promotions strategy. Iwas just following my muse.”

Following her muse, posting novel excerpts andoffering freebies. Would that work for me as a writer with short storypublications but no novels out yet? I don’t know.

I’m going to give it some serious thought andthen see if it might work for me! If you’re a published writer, do you think it’llwork for you? If you try it, let me know.

Image: http://www.mechanicexercises.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/journal1a.jpg

SNAPPER XING 12

2011-12-29T07:53:00.001-06:00

I took the two, smushed them together andcame up with SNAPPER XING...

Lance took Dad’sbig hand in both of his and said, “Wehave to stop the cars. We have to stand in front of them!”

Snapper Xingstopped at the edge of the hot black again. The eggs in her belly were cryingfor the warm, wet sand. But she could not cross the hot black again.

Dad looked downat Lance and slowly nodded. He said, “Wait a moment.” Taking out his cellphone, he dialed a number then handed the phone to Lance. “That’s the police.Tell them who you are, what you see and what you want.”

Snapper Xing sawthat the way was clear. She was tired, but she could run. She lifted her shellfrom the hot rocks and pushed forward as fast as she could go.

Image: http://blogs.capecodonline.com/cape-cod-online-editor/files/2010/06/snapping_turtle.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 43

2011-12-27T07:41:00.004-06:00

H Trope:forbidden rooms

Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McMartin_preschool_trialand http://www.ipt-forensics.com/journal/volume7/j7_2_1_33.htmand http://www.sacbee.com/2011/07/21/3783838/mcmartin-preschool-fiasco-led.html

Thirty yearsafter the infamous McMartin Preschool Incident, Tayna Hopewell’s parents buythe land the day care once stood on to build a golf equipment shop. Everythingis past and even though she finds out about the lot’s history through a Googlesearch, she doesn’t say anything.

They aren’topening a day care!

Tanya who livesin Alondra and takes classes as a high school senior at El Camino College wantsto be a forensic scientist after she graduates. Her parents are “golf semi-pros”and while she supports them now that she’s “grown up”, she loathes the sportand avoids it at every chance.

On the eve of abig semi-pro tourney at the nearby Alondra Golf Course, and shortly after theexcavation began, Tanya NEEDS to escape her parents! They’re driving her CRAZY!

She lights offalong Manhattan Beach Boulevard, jogging toward the beach and some much-neededalone time. When she reaches the excavation site, she sees that the gate isstill standing open and she figures her parents own the land, so she has everyright to check things out.

A warm breeze iswafting off shore a mile or so away and even though the sun is sinking towardthe horizon, she’s comfortable poking around the site.

It’s not particularlyinteresting until she gets to the back of the lot. It’s been built over morethan once – before the infamous daycare (demolished in 1985) it was a housingdevelopment, since then The Strand Cleaners which went out of business. Now herparents are building a two-story building; the ground floor will house Hopewell’sPro Golf; the upper story was unrented yet, but there were plenty of peopleinterested.

At the back ofthe property, Tanya nearly pitches into a narrow hole in the ground that runsunder the fence to the property behind their land. As well, there’s evidence ofthe trenches running toward Manhattan Boulevard. Scowling, she looked into thehole, though she can’t see a thing. She takes out her cell, flips it to “flashlightmode” and aims it into the hole.

She still can’tsee much more than the far side of it. Muttering, she unrolls her towel, laysit on the ground and lays down, scooting to the edge so she can see over itclearly.

The flicks onthe flashlight, holding it ahead of her and pointing down and looks carefully.

At the bottom ofthe trench, at the edge of the cell phone’s light reach, she clearly sees apile of bones.

Heart pounding,she remembers that there was a buried trash heap under the property that they’dfound evidence of even during the trial in the olden days. It’s probably justanimal bones.

That’s when shesees it. To one side, barely visible now, staring at her without eyes, is asmall skull.

A small HUMANskull…

Image: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JuDA9rC8hw4/R-1gzZBPclI/AAAAAAAAAWE/2gmIrsTuDcs/s320/IMG_6879.JPG

“not-so-much-a” PIE for Christmas!

2011-12-25T06:11:00.000-06:00

Stars.

The foundation of science fiction is a journey to the stars.I remember as a kid searching for book titles with “star”, “planet”, “moon” or “alien”on the cover or the book spine.

One of Arthur C. Clarke’s most famous short stories istitled simply, “The Star” (Infinity SF, 1955).

Christmas lights.

What’s the connection between stars and Christmas lights?Most sources point to the practice of lighting Christmas tree candles orputting candles in the windows of homes as a measure of “pushing back the night”long, dark winter nights and having lifted various pagan religious practices inthe process. Sites that are brutally honest say that Christians stole lighting,trees, yule logs and holly for the nefarious reason of subjugating all othertraditions and belief systems to their own.

Others less brutal note that the reason for hanging lightsat Christmas is at best unclear and at worst, disappeared like a ghost intoChristmases past.

So I’m going to throw my own theory out there.

We do Christmas lights to add more stars to the universe welive in so that one particular star on one particular night might stand outeven more than it already does. Adding stars to the universe – even imaginaryones on green coated electrical wire – seems somewhat silly when you considerthat cosmologists number the stars in the observable universe at some thirtysextillion (30 followed by twenty-one zeroes). Others opine mathematically thatthe universe is infinite so that there are an infinite number of stars.

Cool! Ain’t God great?

OK, so rather than theorize why “we” put up Christmas lights, I’ll tell you that I like to put up Christmas lights in an infinite universe to mimic stars.

On that first Christmas night – whether it was December 25or August 12 – a Star shone brightly in the night sky. It so outshone its usualcompanions that the star watchers or astrologers or magi of the Great Cultures atthe time of the Christ’s birth – Ptolemaic Egypt, Carthage, Aksumite Empire inEthiopia, Persia, Indus Valley Chera/Chara/Suaga/Satavahana, the Han Dynasty,Rome, Armenia, Scythia, the Three Kingdoms of Korea and Teotihuacan – madepilgrimage to where this bright star led them.

Three of them made it to Bethlehem in time for the Birth.

The strings of lights I put up are to celebrate the Star ofBethlehem. This celestial object seemed to hang over the City of David. The RomanEmperor had called for a census and Joseph and a very pregnant Mary had gonethere. She had her Son, God Incarnate who came to Earth to solve the problem ofOriginal Sin of humanity against God’s Sovereignty – because God loved theentire population of humanity everywhen so much that God chose to send the Sonto redeem them with the only thing humans clearly understand: blood.

Jesus was born in Bethlehem as the unique Savior of allhumanity – all of whom are free to accept that they are in need of saving orpass on the offer.

I choose to believe that I am in need of saving; I choose toaccept Jesus as the Christ. I choose to believe that unlike what Arthur C.Clarke opines in his story, God did not capriciously wipe out a kindly advanced civilization tosuit His own, cold whim. God used a cosmic celestial event to mark a cosmicspiritual event; and I use Christmas lights to remind me (and anyone who seesmy lights) of the Bethlehem Star.

I’ll let you know when my story about “The Star” is done,but until then, in the words of Hub Pages columnist and fellow Minnesotan, KikaRose: “These are my views. Attack me if you will, but I will believe what Iwill believe and you can’t change my mind for me.”

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Observable_universe

http://www.esa.int/esaSC/SEM75BS1VED_extreme_0.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wihttp://www.esa.int/esaSC/SEM75BS1VED_extreme_0.htmlki/Christmas_lights

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20071209222932AAaEltD

http://kikarose.hubpages.com/hub/Christmas-Just-where-did-all-those-traditions-come-from

http://larryfreeman.hubpages.com/hub/How-long-do-empires-last

image: http://accessscience.com/loadBinary.aspx?aID=5239&filename=ph010990.gif

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS 33

2011-12-22T21:22:00.002-06:00

I read the play version of Daniel Keyes’ FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON when I wasin eighth grade. It has stayed with me for decades, a haunting symbol for boththe overwhelming possibilities of the human intellect and the overwhelmingimpossibilities faced by a profoundly challenged human mind. I’ve started andstopped this novel a half a dozen times in eleven years. I want to bring theoriginal idea into the present millennium. To read RECONSTRUCTION frombeginning to here, click on the label to the right and scroll four pages backuntil you get to the bottom.

The next day, CJ Hastings asked his mom, “Can I stay home fromsch…”

He hadn’t managed to finish the question before she said, “No. Andneither can I. I’ve got to get back to work to pay the bills to keep a roofover our heads. Your sister left a note asking us not to wake her and to get onwith our lives.” Mom paused, picked up the note sitting on the kitchen counterand read, “She also said, ‘I’m sorry for messing your lives up so much.’”

Mom stared at it then whispered, “You didn’t mess up our lives.”

CJ blinked hard. Obviously Mom had been cutting onions or he’dwalked into a spritz of her perfume because his eyes got all teary. He said,“See ya later, Mom!” then sprinted out the front door. The yard still lookedlike an army had marched through it from the paramedics and cops and Universitypeople. He picked up his bike and headed off for school. He met Job a coupleblocks later. He was walking because his family refused to get him a bikebecause they said, “You’re just going to get your license and then drive a car.Getting you a bike now is a waste of money.”

CJ hopped off his bike and they walked together the rest of theway to school.

Mr. Jalfroun was doing door duty, watching the sixth, seventh, andeighth graders dressed in shorts, T-shirts, blue jeans and flip flops rumblinginto the building on their way to home room.

He scowled at CJ and Job then nodded faintly.

CJ stopped. A big eighth grader ran into him. She snarled, “Out ofmy way, baby-boy!”

He and Job skipped sideways out of the stream and walked up to Mr.Jalfroun. He continued to scowl, turned to a pair of sixth grade boys who wereboxing and shouted, “Either stop or go in and let Mr. Beidelman send you homenow!” The boys slunk off. He looked down at CJ and growled, “Yes?”

CJ swallowed hard, aware that he sounded exactly like a cartooncharacter. He opened his mouth to say something and emitted only a squeak. Mr.Jalfroun glanced at his watch. CJ said, “Mr. Jalfroun, I’m not going to go to MacDonald-ChandrasekharAcademy next year! I got a call from Ms. Jacobson at Carter and she asked me togo there and I don’t know who started the rumor that I was going to MCA becauseI’d never go there and leave you guys alone…”

Mr. Jalfroun held his hand up. CJ said, “…because…”

Mr. Jalfroun said, “Stop talking.”

CJ and Job both nodded. Mr. Jalfroun paused then said, “I can’tsay that I’m disappointed that you’re going to turn down the opportunity to goto MCA – and while the coach there approached me during the Math Tournament,our conversation wasn’t meant for eavesdroppers.” He spun around and with hiseyes, seemed to pin Sentury Millner Edison Saroyan suddenly to the wall whereshe was pretending to read a tattered announcement that had been there sincethe first day of school. “But since you chose Carter, I’ll release you fromyour spot on Armstrong’s team.” He curled a finger at Sentury and she startedto slide toward the sixth grade wing. He scowled harder, she froze in hertracks and started toward him. He said out of the corner of his mouth, “We’ll talklate. Ms. Saroyan, may I have a word?”

CJ’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at Mr. Jalfroun andthe mob of students. He ran back outside and answered it. It was Mai Li. “What’swrong?” he said.

“You have to get home!”

“What…”

“I’ve already called you in sick for the day. I need you here to…”the line went dead.

Image: http://www.nypost.com/rw/nypost/2010/10/16/news/photos_stories/Cropped/brooklyn_school--300x300.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 42

2011-12-21T05:37:00.000-06:00

F Trope:prophecies

Current Event:(DUH!) http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2011/12/2012-end-of-the-world-countdown-based-on-mayan-calendar-starts-today/

Tomorrow is, ofcourse the First Day of Winter (or the Winter Solstice); but TODAY marks us atexactly ONE YEAR FROM THE MAYAN APOCALYPSE! The return of Quetzalcoatl! Theascendance of the Feminine! The rise of Human Consciousness!

Or whatever.

So, Itzel MariaHernandez-Hernandez was born and raised in Minnesota. She’s a high schoolsenior at a first-ring suburban high school and has endure (for twelve monthsnow!) the attention of her class ever since someone found out her first namewas Mayan.

She is alsoplanning on going to the University of Minnesota and majoring in nuclearphysics. Her life is math, science and focus on her education. She’s been tophysics conferences at Brookhaven National Lab on Long Island in New York. Shehas met some of the top physicists in the WORLD for heaven’s sake!

Her grandmother,however, who was the one who insisted on her being christened with an ancientMayan name; thinks that she’s special. Special in that she has something to dowith the approaching Mayan change. Though elderly, she still maintains a largeboarding house near the University of Minnesota’s campus and she’s “invited”(she let Itzel’s parents know in no uncertain terms) that she wants hergranddaughter with her on the night of the Winter Solstice!

With a heavysigh, Itzel has agreed to be there. She DOES like the U of M and a one of herbest friends is there for school, so they plan on an overnight while Itzel isthere. After juggling dates, it turns out the only night she can stay is the 20^thof December, right after finals.

They have agrand time, but as midnight approaches, Itzel’s grandmother joins their partywith some foods, trinkets and songs from the ancient Mayans…

Image: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t4_fqALZp3Q/ScbFYWh48zI/AAAAAAAAACw/oPKB41o9K0A/s320/quetzalcoatl.jpg

Slice of PIE: Evidence For Climatic Perspective

2011-12-18T05:00:00.000-06:00

Not far from me, December 2011:

December 2010:

December 1911

December 1000

December 9000 BC

"December" 100,000 BC

"December" 1,000,000 BC

"December" 10,000,000 BC

"December" 100,000,000 BC

"December" 1,000,000,000 BC

"December" 10,000,000,000 BC

Makes me think...

References:
Today: http://minnesota.publicradio.org/collections/special/columns/updraft/assets_c/2011/11/Nov%2029%20003-thumb-500x375.jpg

1 year ago: http://apps.startribune.com/blogs/user_images/Dougicicles.jpg

10 years ago: http://www.landstewardshipproject.org/photos/cowssm.jpg

100 years ago: http://minneapolisparkhistory.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/glenwood-ski-jump-1911-annual-report.jpg

1000 years ago: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37897/37897-h/images/p004.png

10000 years ago: http://www.nps.gov/voya/historyculture/images/MNhistoricOjibwayCanoe.jpg

100000 years ago: http://bhowc.files.wordpress.com/2006/03/evi_neanderthal_large.jpg

1,000,000 years ago: http://www.xtimeline.com/__UserPic_Large/23619/evt100224213700196.jpg

10,000,000 years ago: http://library.thinkquest.org/TQ0311164/contgl1.jpg

100,000,000 years ago: http://www.igsb.uiowa.edu/Browse/dinosaurs/karencarrhadro.gif

1,000,000,000 years ago: http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/wiredscience/2011/04/lake-untersee-stromatolites-dale-andersen.jpg

10,000,000,000 years ago: http://msnbcmedia1.msn.com/j/MSNBC/Components/Photo/_new/110623-GenesisPhoto-hmed-1230a.grid-6x2.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 24: Aster of Opportunity

2011-12-16T20:34:00.002-06:00

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official United 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.

The Solstmas celebration was the event of the year and the most expensive of Opportunity’s transports were out in obvious numbers.

The limo that stopped in front of her dad’s apartment for Aster Theilen was long, low, generated antigravity – and was completely transparent from end to end. The driver, she was relieved to see, was dressed in a tuxedo. He nodded to her as he opened the door to the car. She slid into the seat and tucked her legs next to the seat as he closed the door. A moment later, they rose above the city and shortly skimmed a short arc over the entire width of the dome. She stared down in amazement, seeing everything only slightly distorted by the transparent aluminum shell.

But Opportunity wasn’t that large. After ten minutes, they descended to the rooftop of the tallest building and settled down gently. Aster saw that the landing pad was surrounded by soldiers in Opportunity uniforms as well as the scarlet sashes of the Mayor’s personal guard. As she stepped out, Hanam vo’Maddux, the Mayor’s head of security – and therefore the most powerful person in Opportunity after the Mayor himself – made her way past the soldiers.

“Ms. Theilen! How wonderful! You’ve arrived early and you’re stunning in your gown!” vo’Maddux said. Aster noticed that the smile on her lips never reached her eyes though she turned to flash it at the media people outside of the security perimeter.

“I’m honored that you felt I was good enough to be the Mayor’s escort tonight,” Aster said, bowing slightly. The gesture seemed appropriate for one who saw herself as so important. For an instant real pleasure crossed vo’Maddux’ face.

“The honor is all his,” she replied, then took Aster’s elbow and led her from the landing pad. “We’ll get clear of this mob and downstairs to meet His Excellency.”

They skimmed through the media and into a drop tube. A moment of silence later, the tube opened onto an immense ballroom.

“This is lovely!” Aster exclaimed. “Who organized this?”

vo’Maddux arched an eyebrow and said, “I did.”

“You have delightful taste,” Aster said. The theme colors were traditional Solstmas – green and silver – and the silver mock-pine to one side of the ballroom sparkled with lights only faintly green. The shade was perfect, casting a natural color to the artificial tree. Water icicles hung from branches touched on occasion with tiny, red berry-like lights. What seemed to be waves of transparent silver flowed from the top of the tree over the tables and dance floor, which shimmered with flowing green with touches of red.

This time vo’Maddux’ face softened as she said, “You’ve never been to the Mayor’s Solstmas Ball?”

“Heaven’s no!” Aster exclaimed. “It’s usually just my father and I in his apartment.” She leaned a bit closer to vo’Maddux, sharing a confidence, “He’s a bit old-fashioned and still insists on calling the holiday ‘Christmas’. So he plays the ancient music and our tree is a mock-pine.”

Smiling, vo’Maddux nodded, “We do allow our heroes certain latitude in their harmless habits, don’t we?”

“Heroes?” Aster said.

“Oh, yes! I know his part in the construction of the Domes! He and his kind are the heart and soul of our society! Without their sacrifice, we’d not be where we are today.” Before Aster could reply, vo’Maddux exclaimed and waved into the distance, “There’s the Mayor now!”

A powerful figure moved across the ballroom floor, people stepping back to leave a clear pathway for him that connected the two of them. Aster had stepped back. A moment later, the Mayor stopped before them. vo’Maddux reached back and took Aster’s hand, pulling her forward as they Mayor stopped and stood at parade rest. vo’Maddux said, “Your Excellency, may I present your escort tonight, Aster Theilen, daughter of Abedne Halle-Theilen!”

The Mayor looked startled then leaned forward, eyes sharp and abruptly sparking, “You mean the First Humans Expedition to Olympus Mons?”

Aster lifted an eyebrow. Very, very few people these days called the immense Martian shield volcano by its proper name. Most used the tackier, ‘Mount Olympus’ with its images of petulant gods and voluptuous goddesses bickering over the fate of humans like Heracles and Andromeda. The first, older name carried with it dignity and weight. She nodded, saying, “Yes, father was on that expedition – the one where they set the first clear reception and broadcast antenna?”

“That’s the one! Your father was there?” The Mayor brushed past Hanam vo’Maddux, taking Aster’s elbow and leading her away from his chief of security, ignoring the rest of her delicious little speech designed to send the innocent little witch blushing home to Daddy and cast a brighter light on Hanam for the rest of the evening. Hanam blinked in startlement. She’d wanted him to realize that innocence was something a political figure didn’t need in his women. She’d stomped her foot like a jilted adolescent before she’d realized it. One of her bodyguards looked at her over the virtual monitoring lenses she wore and lifted an eyebrow.

She snarled, “One word and it’s you and your brother’s jobs!”

The guard held up her hands in silent surrender then fell into parade rest.

vo-Maddux glared after the couple as they made their way to the punch table. The Theilen witch refused a cup of the alcohol laden punch, opting for a sliced kiwi fruit instead. She spun away, typing furiously on her kpad, sending orders to her best forensic computer specialist ordering him to dig fast and dig deep – she wanted the witch out of commission, completely and fast!

Image: http://www.angryasianman.com/images/angry/redcliff_chiling.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 41

2011-12-14T06:15:00.001-06:00

SF Trope: god-like aliens

Current Event: http://www.amazon.com/Twilight-Gods-Calendar-Return-Extraterrestrials/dp/1601631413/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323863963&sr=1-1

This is SUCH an old idea; tired; worn out…

I read CHARIOTS OF THE GODS when I was like, thirteen. It was lame then and the books since then are STILL lame, as is his website and his continued insistence that the rest of the scientific world is crazy and he’s right – that aliens came down from space to form our total mythology – from the Greek pantheon to the Mayan gods poised to return to Earth in December of 2012. He also has a theme park and is planning a media extravaganza (http://www.daniken.com/e/chariots_project.shtml) – sounds to me just like any other property developer: out to get rich!

I’d like to try something different.

Besides the possibility of One God, the broadcasts of van Daniken’s book in the form of his movie of the same name, have been floating into space since 1974.

No doubt the “alien gods” have seen it.

I notice they haven’t been around to reclaim their godhood lately.

But what if they did come back? What if they are here? Now?

Fifteen-year-old Tommy Servant has been into his mom’s old books. After reading the relatively new TWILIGHT OF THE GODS on his friend’s NOOK, he’s been reading one of the writer’s books a week.

In the heat of the summer, he’s camping in a nearby state park and he’s out laying on a stone outcrop over a shallow valley, watching the Milky Way wheeling overhead. Something descends from the sky and moves directly toward him. Shortly, there’s a small spacecraft hovering directly in front of him. A ramp extends from a door that opens. All he can see inside are a few banks of lights and a rectangle of darkness.

The invitation is obvious but…crap! What should he do? Then a voice speaks – it’s female and surprisingly sounds a lot like Mom’s voice. It says, “Tommy, what you see before you is a ship that carries a gateway to our world. We are not gods and even though our ancestors sometimes visited Earth, we didn’t make your pyramids or your Easter Island heads or anything else like that. We want you to set your world straight about what we DID do here: we explored. That’s it. Your own people created the Nazca lines as well as created calendars. We may not be gods, but we’d like you to be our prophet. Because some of us are coming to Earth; but not all of us are benevolent…”

YOU take if from here!

Image: http://www.roythinnes.com/TheInvaders.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Does Life Influence SF or Does SF Influence Life?

2011-12-11T12:08:00.002-06:00

Is the current World and US climate of international, national, religious, political, environmental and economic dissonance the root cause of the tiny number of Humans-who-meet-and-work-with-Aliens science fiction on the market or is that lack the cause of the dissonance?

This question was sparked by the Kirkus Review announcement of the Best SF and F of 2011 (http://www.kirkusreviews.com/best-of/2011/fiction/2011-best-fiction-science-fiction-and-fantasy/). Of the ten, seven are fantasy so I’m eliminating them. Of the last three, only Embassytown has Human and Alien interaction. The Quantum Thief takes place on a near-future Mars, and Rule 34 takes place in cyberspace.

Of SFFMeta’s Science Fiction All Time High Scores (http://www.sffmeta.com/listBooks?list=alltimehigh&genreDefaultNo=1, 100 books), only 10 are from 2011 (the rest were published between 1953 and 2010). Of THAT group, four feature aliens, three are mysteries and one of them is Embassytown.

So what am I trying to say?

Writers – whether they publish ebooks, exclusively online or their books are solely available at brick-and-mortar stores – are responsible for change. Darwin’s writing shook the world. The Prophet Mohammed changed the course of history. CS Lewis altered the beliefs of tens of thousands.

Science fiction writers, while their main goal is to entertain, are also responsible for preparing humanity for First Contact with aliens. Their job is to offer scenarios that we can weigh and explore. We can question ourselves and the society in which we live. For example, though it’s a movie, DISTRICT 9 offered a stunning thought: what if aliens don’t contact Americans?

Robert A Heinlein recognized his responsibility when he said: “I write for the following reasons – 1. To support myself and my family; 2. To entertain my readers; 3. And, if possible, to cause my readers to think.” (Robert Anson Heinlein to a Reader in a letter dated 20 January 1972, and reprinted in Grumbles From The Grave, pg 281; http://www.advocacyagainstcensorship.com/quotes/qtrah_pers.html)

This is the same reason I teach a summer school class called ALIEN WORLDS. The thoughts I want the kids to have are that “alien does not equal enemy” and I believe that this attitude can spill over from imaginary aliens to the people we meet or see on the news or on Youtube who seem alien.

I believe that this SF community may have truckled to the masses and have produced work to promulgate the belief that “alien equals enemy”. Even such writers as David Brin (http://davidbrin.blogspot.com/2010/05/perspectives-on-seti-and-aliens-and.html) and Stephen Hawking (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extraterrestrial_life) have trumpeted the inherent dangers in letting the universe know we are here. This contributes to the meme that “alien equals enemy” and this plays out in promoting a climate of international, national, religious, political, environmental and economic dissonance.

I believe the SF community should fight the obvious trend and start to produce work in which “alien does not equal enemy”.

I think they should do it NOW.

Image: http://www.sohood.com/ps/et.jpg

SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH #32: July 15, 1946 – July 16, 1946

2011-12-08T21:19:00.002-06:00

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, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on the bottom.

The big woman scowled and said, “And exactly how do you know that they’re not spies.”

Bonnie stepped forward and touched the woman’s arm, “We ran into them a few days ago and gave them a ride.” She looked down at Freddie Merrill, offering him a hand up. He reached for her hand and took it and she pulled him to his feet. Then she gently pushed him toward Tommy Hastings. “They were hitchhiking up from Minneapolis and we found them all beat up and bloody on the road side.” She smiled at them and added, “I think they were fighting each other. Maybe they’re brothers?” Tommy found himself blushing furiously. She’d noticed their little tussle?

Freddie elbowed Tommy and said, “He ain’t my brother! I’m Freddie Merrill.”

Tommy straightened up and said, “Thomas Frederick Hastings.”

Freddie gave him a strange look. Tommy was pretty sure Freddie’d never heard his full name before. Dad and Mom didn’t do that “mad at the kid and use his full name thing” like Freddie’s did.

There was a yelp from farther back in the crowd and suddenly the workers parted. A woman strode out across the pebbled floor. She was old. Another woman followed her more slowly – it was the Anoka Witch!

The first woman walked up to Tommy. She stared at him then took his chin firmly in her hand and turned it first left then right. She muttered a curse, then said, “You look like him.”

“Who?” Tommy asked.

“James Hastings.” Tommy’s eyes met hers and she nodded slowly. She said, “So, James and Ruth finally did it.”

Freddie said, “Did what?”

She released Tommy and said, “Got hitched. She was top floor maid. He was a drifter the gardener hired to do heavy work around the estate. He flirted; she was just a kid. Like that for seven, maybe ten years.” The woman shook her head. “She warn’t mine, but practically. She came here when she was fourteen in ‘Ought-Four, an orphan.”

“My mom wasn’t an orphan!”

The woman shrugged, “Her mother left her a long time before Ruth Carrol ran away to Duluth – I think from what she’d say late at night when she’d been into the house wine – from somewhere in the Dakota Territory. Her daddy was a US Deputy Marshal who’d got hisself killed somewhere along the way. Life fell apart after that.” She paused, “I was kinda her mama here at Glensheen.”

“What was she doing here, then?”

“Like I said, working on the top floor. Maid,” she shrugged, “the Congdon’s called her a ‘domestic’.”

Tommy stared up at her and said, “Like I said, ‘What was she doing here, then?”

The woman frowned and her accent got so heavy Tommy could barely understand when she said, “They’re socialists, just like the rest of us.”

Tommy said, “What’s a socialist?”

Freddie cried out, “Communists! Run for your life!”

Tommy and Freddie had been friends practically since they were born. Tommy didn’t know anything about the woman standing in front of him who was saying his mom had been an orphan and her and his dad were socialists.

But he trusted Freddie with his life.

He followed Freddie along the northern spit of pebbles and then cut hard left into the darkness.

From behind them came the clear words, “If you catch ‘em, kill ‘em!”

Image: http://image.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/776821/776821,1317614835,1/stock-photo-two-healthy-young-man-run-together-at-sunset-silhouetted-85812901.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 40

2011-12-06T04:00:00.001-06:00

H Trope: graveyard

Current Event: http://www.tbd.com/blogs/tbd-arts/2011/04/playwright-unearths-morbid-tale-of-local-celebrity-grave-robber-10087.html

Some Background: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Body_snatching

And Some History: http://www.congressionalcemetery.org/newspaper-clips-1880-1889

Let’s just say this is a bit AFTER the season one would usually talk about grave robbery…or a bit before (if you believe some of the tales about what happened the Jesus the Christ).

BUT – in this day and age of rumors of cloning and genetic engineering, it BEGS the “what if” of science that might lead to horror.

The patina of science laid over a horrific story – like Romero’s NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD in which “Experts, scientists, and the United States military do not know the cause, though one scientist believes the cause to be radioactive contamination from a space probe that exploded in the Earth's atmosphere” – gives me the framework for you to play with this idea:

Your parents work in a biological research lab in a wealthy suburb and while you know where they work, you don’t know exactly what they do.

You stumble across a website one of them flagged about someone named Herman Webster Mudgett and you do some checking and find out he was both a grave robber and a famous serial murderer from the Old West.

A few days later, Mom and Dad tell you they’re flying out to visit some relatives you’ve never heard of out West. They’re gone a few days and return with one massive suitcase. They set it in the entryway and then head for bed without much of an explanation except, “We’re might tired, kiddo. See you in the morning.”

Once they’re in bed, you check out the suitcase and notice that it’s got frost on it. It’s not locked, so you open it and check it out and there appears to be a rather large, metal canister in it. Mom gets up for a drink of water and you shut it and you make your way to bed after enduring a hard hug from her.

A few months later, Mom and Dad announce they’re pregnant…

Image: http://www.dirjournal.com/info/images/Herman_Webster.jpg

WRITING ADVICE – Kristine Kathryn Rusch #6: THE BUSINESS RUSCH – Short Stories

2011-12-04T07:33:00.001-06:00

I first ran across the work of Kristine Kathryn Rusch when her name appeared on the bottom of a standard rejection form I got from The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, where she was head editor for several years. A short time later, I ran across one of her short stories (“Retrieval Artist” in the June 2000 ANALOG), which of course, led me t0 her RETRIEVAL ARTIST novels. I’m a fan now and started reading her blog (http://kriswrites.com/) a year or more ago. As always, I look for good writing advice to pass on to you as well as applying it to my own writing. I have her permission to quote from the articles. You can find the complete article referenced below here: http://kriswrites.com/2011/06/22/the-business-rusch-short-stories/

I love short stories. I’ve been writing them from the day I first (in my case) laid pencil to paper. I’d never had any intention of penning grand novels or a fantasy series.

I read short stories and I loved them.

So I wrote short stories and they were published in ANALOG, CRICKET, CICADA, STORIES FOR CHILDREN, STUPEFYING STORIES and a half-dozen other places.

In this article, Kristine Kathryn Rusch mostly talks about how readers are the winners of the electronic publishing revolution – she has certainly taken advantage of it! – but she writes primarily about the written word.

I have discovered another branch of the SF publication kingdom: the spoken story!

Humans have been telling stories since the advent of language. The first stories we “read” as children are whilst we are being dandled on the knee of a favorite adult who somehow makes the same sounds over and over again that explain the pictures we see clearly on a piece of paper in front of us. They READ to us. The advent of stories being read to us used to disappear from our lives once we “learned to read”. Except for plays in theaters (which is a form of being read to), having someone read to me disappeared once I could do it myself.

Then came “Audio Books”.

I confess, I’ve never liked the idea of letting someone read to me as an adult. For some reason – probably a deeply-seated psychological interpretation that says to me “you are a child” when I hear a book being read to me intentionally. I never bought one and I CERTAINLY never listened to one myself!

Then the 21^st Century arrived along with ipods, MP3 players (pause for dramatic effect) and the dreaded “multi-tasking”.

People who drove for a living and were readers had long ago discovered that they could drive and listen to novels at the same time. A young friend of mine is a policeman/artist/janitor and an avid reader as well. He has a collection of books, one of which he loaned me recently.

But his MAIN source of reading comes when he’s working. Whilst sweeping floors, sterilizing urinals and doing sundry other tasks, his head is firmly plugged into a pair of headphones and he’s listening to SOMEONE read to him!

I respect the intelligence of this young man immensely – but I just couldn’t…could I?

I’d made the jump to online publishing in the Fall of 2001 with the publication of a short story called “Christmas Tree” in a now-defunct (there are SO many of these now as well) called Gate-Way.

Now I’ve made another jump. Currently up at the podcast site of young adult science fiction, CAST OF WONDERS is the first half of my story, “Peanut Butter and Jellyfish” (http://www.castofwonders.org/). Yes, I can only imagine what you’re going to say, so I’ll save you your breath and answer now: “I know you told me so, so I humbly concede your prestidigitation (yes – I know what this means. It’s a joke to see if YOU know what it means!) skills and heave a great sigh of resignation.

I’ll also add this from Kristine Kathryn Rusch: “The rapid growth of the short story markets means that the editors are in the market for good material. Short stories are more than a vanity project for writers these days. I believe a good, fast short story writer who works in multiple genres could probably make a mid-five figure income these days or more. But…while everything else is in flux from agents to traditional book publishers to the growth of the e-book marketplace, the traditional short story market has become the brightest spot in the publishing firmament. And I, for one, think that’s spectacular.”

I’m pretty sure she’d be in favor of the niche audio markets have created for themselves – I know I’M in favor of them now!

Image: http://www.vanillajoy.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/toddler-story.jpg

SNAPPER XING 11

2011-12-01T06:08:00.000-06:00

In case you haven't figured it out, I'm a science geek! That's why a story in the STAR TRIBUNE first grabbed me seven years ago. I live far enough out of the Cities to see snapping turtles – snappers – all the time. I think they're fascinating creatures...Billed as a "children's book", fabulously written and illustrated by Holling Clancy Holling, MINN OF THE MISSISSIPPI was a 1952 Newbery Honor book. The detailed pictures are stunning and full of information! I took the two, smushed them together and came up with SNAPPER XING...

Lance nodded and said, “You can let go now. I’m not going to run into the middle of the road.” Dad didn’t let go at first.

Snapper Xing crawled as fast as she could and was soon off the hot black. Sand and grass, cooler than the hot black, made her feel better, but the beach for laying eggs was still far away.

Dad said, “There! She’s safe now.” Letting him go, Dad patted Lance’s back.

“But Dad, she isn’t stopping. She wants to go to the marsh. And there are still cars.” Lance looked both ways. There were no cars. “Please come with me. We have to save her.”

Snapper Xing felt the hard, hot black under her chest again. She would have liked to stop on the sand and grass, but there had been no water there. She still had to reach the water. A dark shadow roared in front of her followed by another and another.

Image: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rp0Ki71fT0k/TClHvKUll9I/AAAAAAAAAYc/h_KnRqr0YBQ/s1600/062606-turtle-on-roadjpg-03b25dae7f2f96d3_large.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 39

2011-11-29T06:16:00.002-06:00

F Trope: elves, gnomes and Halflings

Current Event: http://www.icenews.is/index.php/2011/07/02/icelandic-town-hopes-angry-elves-have-been-soothed-by-songs/

So…a guy – call him Geir Laxness – is born in Iceland and grows up. He’s got no mom and lives alone with dad, who is an anthropologist.

They’ve travelled a bit, so he’s seen a lot, but he’s always been shy. He reads lots of fantasy and likes LORD OF THE RINGS a lot and can even read the Icelandic translation (which his few friends think is weird). One of his heroes is “Snorri Sturluson, a descendant of Egil’s Saga’s hero, but this remains uncertain. The standard modern edition of Icelandic sagas is known as Íslenzk Fornrit.” His online name is “Snorri”.

He skypes other friends all the time and has contacts all over the world. Him and his dad are at a conference in Minneapolis, MN. It’s his first time in the US interior and he manages to get away from Dad and go to a fantasy and science fiction bookstore called “Uncle Hugo’s”.

It’s across the street from a REALLY intriguing International Marketplace and he figures he’ll pop over there and see what’s up…

That’s when he witnesses a murder: a group of white kids, tattooed and heads shaved, on skateboards, attack and kill a black man and an Hispanic woman. The disappear back down a staircase to a bike trail below.

Geir tries to help, but doesn’t know to call 911 in the US, so he does what he can. The woman presses a folded sheet of paper into his hand as she dies and says…

Image: http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/dailyweekly/jake%20denham.jpg

Slice of PIE: Can “I Hate This” Be Positive and Encouraging?

2011-11-27T07:43:00.002-06:00

I doubt that I’m the only one who has received a harsh critique of their writing.

I doubt that I’m the only one who has received a harsh critique of a life choice.

Even Jesus has harsh words to say to His disciples. In Luke 9:37-47, Jesus criticizes them both obviously and subtly: “ ³⁷ The next day, after they had come down the mountain, a large crowd met Jesus. ³⁸ A man in the crowd called out to him, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son, my only child. ³⁹ An evil spirit keeps seizing him, making him scream. It throws him into convulsions so that he foams at the mouth. It batters him and hardly ever leaves him alone. ⁴⁰ I begged your disciples to cast out the spirit, but they couldn’t do it.” ⁴¹ Jesus said, “You faithless and corrupt people! How long must I be with you and put up with you?” Then he said to the man, “Bring your son here.” ⁴² As the boy came forward, the demon knocked him to the ground and threw him into a violent convulsion. But Jesus rebuked the evilspirit and healed the boy. Then he gave him back to his father. ⁴³ Awe gripped the people as they saw this majestic display of God’s power. While everyone was marveling at everything he was doing, Jesus said to his disciples, ⁴⁴ “Listen to me and remember what I say. The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of his enemies.”⁴⁵ But they didn’t know what he meant. Its significance was hidden from them, so they couldn’t understand it, and they were afraid to ask him about it. ⁴⁶ Then his disciples began arguing about which of them was the greatest. ⁴⁷ But Jesus knew their thoughts, so he brought a little child to his side. ⁴⁸ Then he said to them, “Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalfwelcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me also welcomes my Father who sent me. Whoever is the least among you is the greatest.”

The first critique is subtle. The crowd tells Jesus that His disciples can’t do something they claim they can. Jesus does it easily, implying in front of God and everyone that His disciples didn’t know what they were doing.

The second critique is not subtle at all. The disciples figure they’re a shoe-in for heaven and just have to figure out the victory banquet seating arrangements. Jesus tells them the kid standing next to Him is better than they are.

I have received both kinds of critiques of my writing. An example is pasted below and while neither Jesus nor this agent says "I hate this", it certainly must have felt like that for the disciples...and for me. The obvious is the first part:

“Wow, that is some story you just sent me! Editors could never call that one ‘too quiet’--the standard reason in the industry for passing on a picture book manuscript. I haven't even had my coffee yet and that one woke me up completely! In the end, though, Guy, it's a bit long for today's picture book market. Editors are calling for spare, compelling texts up to about 600 words. Should you choose to revisit the manuscript, I would be happy to take another look.”

The subtle is below and I’m still not sure if I will resubmit:

“Also, if you have it in you to re-send Victory of Fists again, I'd love to see the newly empowered version. If I've knocked the wind out of your sails, I will certainly understand.”

The obvious is just that and contains workable advice. I rewrote, tightened and resubmitted and even though it was turned down again, the story is markedly better. I will keep looking for a home for this one.

The second and subtle has given me pause. I certainly went back and reworked the story, but now I don’t know what to do with the second sentence. Is it a gracious way to let me back out or a backhanded way of saying, “Stop bothering me”? Is this 'positive and encouraging'?

Your thoughts?

Image: http://pledgingforchange.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/literary-agent-reading-book-manuscript.jpg

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS Chapter 32

2011-11-24T20:13:00.003-06:00

The trip home from the hospital was silent – mostly because Mai Li had practically passed out between CJ Hastings and their mom. It was dark and the lights of the cars on the interstate and the overhead floods washed them with blue, yellow and orange alternately.

They were nearly home when Mom said, “Do you think she’s dying, CJ?”

He looked at her and could barely see her between the lights. He opened his mouth to say something smart, waited a moment then said, “Why ask me?”

Mom said, “Because for all the work I’ve done taking care of her, you’ve always known her better than I did.”

“That’s not true, Mom…”

“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, honey. You two have always been somehow – I don’t want to sound metaphysical, but your souls have always been knit together.”

CJ guffawed, heard her huff and added, “For not wanting to sound metaphysical, that was sure metaphysical.”

She laughed, too but drove in silence. They pulled into the driveway and stopped. Mom turned the car off and staring ahead, continued to wait. Finally CJ said, “Yeah. Unless she can come up with a genius move to save herself and reprogram the nanomachines before they rebuild her old brain, she’s dying.”

Mai Li stirred between them and sat up slowly, saying, “Like I’ve always said since becoming the next step in Human evolution, ‘you’re not retarded, just an idiot.’”

CJ rolled his eyes and said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Together, him and Mom managed to get Mai Li out of the car and into the house.

Once she was in her room and Mom had gone to make a late dinner, she said to CJ, “You’re right, little idiot. Unless I can reprogram the nanos, I’m going to die. So get me my laptop and get out of my way. You’re going to have to be my legs for me while I figure this out.”

He squinted suspiciously and said, “What are you going to order?”

“Drugs.”

He paused then said, “I can get some for you at school tomorrow if you just tell me what you want.”

Mai Li looked up, her face angry – outraged, CJ might have guessed – locking eyes with him. She opened her mouth then guffawed. She laughed so hard she fell back on the bed and laughed until tears streamed from her eyes and Mom had come to the bedroom door. “What did you say to her?”

CJ opened his mouth to answer. He was pretty sure Mom wouldn’t get the drug joke. He was saved from a lie when he phone rang and Mai Li struggled to her elbows and said, “He was just trying to make me feel better by stimulating the release of endorphins into my brain.”

Mom snorted and left the room.

CJ said into his phone, “Job?”

“Duh. Listen, I can’t talk long. You gonna be at school tomorrow?”

CJ pulled the phone from his mouth and shouted, “Mom do I have to go to…”

“Yes!” she cut him off with a shout from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he said to Job, “I’m gonna be there.”

“Good. You better tell Mr. Jalfroun you’re not gonna go to MacDonald-Chandrasekar. I heard from Trevon that Mr. Jalfroun heard from the M-C coach that you were gonna sign on with them for sure!”

“Who told them that?”

“Trevon told me he heard it from Luc who heard it from Sentury.”

CJ squinted angrily, his hand squeezing the phone. Good thing he was a wimp or he’d have crushed it. “I’ll get even with her for this.”

“That’s fine, but first tell Mr. Jalfroun tomorrow that you’re not quitting his team.”

“But I sorta am.”

“Going to Carter doesn’t count. He’s the assistant coach there.”

CJ opened his mouth to reply just as Mai Li screamed.

Image: http://s4.hubimg.com/u/920491_f260.jpg

RIP Anne McCaffrey

2011-11-23T10:36:00.004-06:00

Found out yesterday that Anne McCaffrey passed away -- I began reading her books as a young adult, re-read them dozens of times then introduced both of my kids to them.

In this family, she will be profoundly missed...

Ideas On Tuesday 38 -- Zomboid Mary...

2011-11-23T06:16:00.002-06:00

SF Trope: post-apocalyptic world

Current Event: http://blogs.cdc.gov/publichealthmatters/2011/05/preparedness-101-zombie-apocalypse/

I KNOW I’ve done zombies before (http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2011/08/ideas-on-tuesdays-26-zombie-researcher.html and http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2011/06/ideas-on-tuesday-18-stalking-abandoned.html) but they were from different points of view than this. This is a warning from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. Granted, it’s a bit tongue in cheek and the intent is to bring up the necessity for people to prepare for ANY kind of disaster, but it gave me an idea…

The CDC urges you to become a member of the Zombie Task Force.

What if the “joke” has been perpetrated by that once-in-a-millennium occurrence, a zombie CARRIER (no, I don’t mean a semi-trailer designed to transport zombies stacked like cordwood, though that’s an interesting image…) – I mean someone who is only a partial zombie. They don’t walk around with outstretched arms, they don’t thump around at the speed of a tumbling tumbleweed. In fact, a zombie carrier is someone who, like Typhoid Mary spread the zombie disease without themselves being a zombie (“Individuals can develop typhoid fever after ingesting food or water contaminated during handling by a human carrier. The human carrier is usually a healthy person who has survived a previous episode of typhoid fever yet who continues to shed the associated bacteria, Salmonella typhi, in feces and urine.” From Wikipedia, Typhoid Mary)

So, a high school senior who is virtually invisible at her school, is the only child of a couple who have been doing research on the reanimation of dead human tissue. They live far on the edge of town and she has been driving herself to school ever since she got her license. She overhears them talking one night and figures out (finally) that they are zombie carriers.

In order to find out if she is, she thinks about a particular clique of girls who like to tease her and this guy who she likes but who mocks her and decides to…

Image: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MFslwcqLKIE/Sme8ud9e-tI/AAAAAAAAAmk/zA79yKs-qz8/s400/boy_eats_girl_8.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS – OCCUPY Portland, Science Fiction, Writing and Faith…a Volatile Combination

2011-11-20T08:47:00.004-06:00

(The photo above is of Jeff VanderMeer who, when you GOOGLE “activist science fiction writer” pops up first. Second place is awarded to Cory Doctrow.)

Last weekend, I was in Portland, Oregon becoming more educated on the philosophy and changes of a program called International Baccalaureate(http://www.ibo.org/); which is a methodology and framework for delivering a world-class, globally-aware education for kindergartners through seniors in high school. My daughter was in the IB program from 6^th-12^th grade. The training she received both philosophically and academically have been very helpful in her college education.

OCCUPY Portland was there as well and provided me with a different kind of education.

I confess that I had no idea what was going on. I’m an old guy and protesting is, as Captain Kirk once said, “…a game for the young, Doctor.” The first time I heard the Occupants chanting, I couldn’t make out the words OR the placards (it was late at night). I thought they were advertising Wendy’s – “…something…something…something…99 cents!”

Yeah, I know. What a dork.

As the weekend spun out, though and the IB conferees completely ignored the protest (because they were, after all, globally-minded teachers); the news reported on the unusual peacefulness of the confrontation between police and protesters and the metaphysical prophecies of a man who, while meditating with a rock that was purported to produce sympathetic vibrations of peace, had had a vision of rain and peaceful protesting (and had offered the crystal to a police officer in the riot line – who had significantly accepted it); it all began to sink into me.

STAR TREK, BARRAYAR, STAR WARS, DUNE, SAGA OF THE SEVEN SUNS, BABYLON 5, SERENITY and FOUNDATION AND EMPIRE never depict peaceful protests.

In fact to my knowledge, protests do not happen very often in science fiction. Two scenes I can recall are from David Brin’s SUNDIVER in which people wave placards protesting the extra-terrestrial presence on Earth; and the mob scene in the movie CONTACT which exhibits the absolute worst of Humanity.

In both of those scenes, the scientist-types scoff and shake their heads in disbelief at the insanity of most of Humanity (except for the unanimous scientific part). In neither case did the main characters join in and in neither case are the protesters objections addressed.

I suppose the same thing has happened with the OCCUPY movement – while investment in the sciences is (at least peripherally) controlled by large corporations like 3M, Boston Scientific, Bayer and Monsanto; while there certainly are scientists who participate (http://www.genomeweb.com/blog/phd-scientists-occupy-wall-street) those same scientists (upon whom the stock exchange depends – MMM, BSX, BAYRY, MON) eschew OCCUPY: “‘The Occupy Wall Street movement recently has drawn criticism, however — particularly from those who view the protest as disorganized and unsophisticated,’ The New York Times' Nelson Schwartz and Eric Dash say. ‘Without a coherent message, the crowds will ultimately thin out, Wall Street types insist…’”

Christians have a clear, ecumenical presence in the OCCUPY movement (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/12/us/at-occupy-protests-bearing-witness-without-preaching-beliefs-by-mark-oppenheimer.html?_r=2&hp).

So what am I trying to say? Just this: SF writers are typically made up of individuals who have a scientific bent (if not always degrees). They can have a profound impact on the scientific community. They should be writing to influence, not just entertain. They should be writing to empower change and not maintain status quo. They should encourage challenging the status quo – of COURSE while entertaining!

Where are the protesters in SF?

Excuse me while I get to work on a protesting scientist who happens to be a Christian as well (and no, it is NOT an oxymoron).

Image: http://danieljeffreygoodman.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/jeff-vandermeer.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 23: Stefan on the Rooftop

2011-11-17T06:32:00.002-06:00

As the sun set a few hours later, Stefan Izmaylova and the blue boy, Quinn had discovered a small office in the back of the warehouse.

“We’re going to have to get light in here somehow,” Stefan said. There was no response, so he turned around. Quinn was gone. “Quinn?” He walked out of the office, into the empty, hangar-sized room and called more loudly. He waited, then sighed. He didn’t own the boy – no matter what Quinn thought or claimed. He got back to work and had the chair cleaned off and had scraped the fist-size spot where the paint had peeled from a window.

It was almost as big as his chest and watery, dusty light shone through. That was when he realized it was sunset.

He sighed. The office held a rickety table, wires that had once connected a computer to the interplanetarynet. There was a chair, but it was broken. A few scattered sheets of paper and odds and ends detritus. He considered sleeping on the table, but shook his head. If anyone or anything came into the office looking for him he’d be trapped. While he loved the Lord with all his heart, he wasn’t stupid, either. Matthew 10:16 was pretty clear on that, recording Jesus’ advice to his disciples when he said, “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.”

He left the office and headed for the back of the warehouse. Quinn had discovered a ladder set into the wall and reaching up to the ceiling. Stefan found it again and started climbing, testing each rung as he did so, until he reached the top. A platform had been sheered away from the wall, but there was still a door there. He cautiously reached up and pulled down on the lever handle.

Without a sound, the door swung out and blood-red sunlight poured through the opening. He levered himself up and on to the roof, then slid forward until his chest rested on the rough surface.

A pair of bare, dusky blue feet appeared in front of him and a voice said from above, “Took you long enough.”

Stefan hauled himself to his feet, started dusting himself off and figured it was a lost cause, and said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming up here?”

Quinn got a sulky look on his face, “You said you weren’t my master.”

“I’m not – but it’s common courtesy between people working together that when one leaves, he or she tells the other that they’re going.”

Quinn puzzled over that a moment, scratched his armpit, then said, “Oh. OK.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “Come on over here.” He started walking away, stopped, turned and said, “I’m goin’ over to the edge and ‘cause I wanted to show you something.”

Stefan covered a grin with a pretended cough and followed the boy. At the edge of the roof – there was no parapet or anything preventing someone from simply stepping over the ledge and falling to their deaths – Quinn was staring into the intense light spilling across the city as the sun set. “Beautiful,” said Stefan.

“That’s not what I come up here for,” said Quinn.

Without looking over at the artificial human boy, Stefan said, “What do you come up here for?”

“Two reasons.”

“To escape the parts harvesters?”

“Yeah,” he said, pausing. Stefan didn’t move or say anything. Finally Quinn said, “I think about killing myself.”

Stefan hummed then said, “I’d like it if you stayed around for a while.”

Quinn said nothing for a bit. Finally he said softly, “No one’s ever told me that.” Stefan didn’t say anything. Quinn sighed and added, “I guess I’d better stick around and help you here.” He jerked his chin away from the ledge and said, “I got a place we can sleep after the sun goes down.”

Stefan nodded and followed the blue boy, struggling to keep his expectations of God moving here in the Rim low but unable to tamp down the growing sense of vertigo that made his heart pound.

image: http://watermarked.cutcaster.com/cutcaster-photo-100096231-Looking-up.jpg

Ideas On Tuesday 38

2011-11-16T06:09:00.002-06:00

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 19^th and early 20^th 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 17^th and 18^th Centuries (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/the-real-vampire-slayers-397874.html).

It is the 21^st Century now and people travel everywhere all the time. A chance college meeting leads to romance for a couple with old, Eastern European roots – Curtis 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 bloodlust…

Image: http://img2.imagesbn.com/images/99630000/99631950.JPG

No Posts This Weekend!

2011-11-11T05:38:00.003-06:00

I am going to be in Portland, Oregon until Monday night and so I won't be posting (I missed Thursday's post because I was working last night...)

At any rate, I'll be WRITING my POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY; I just won't be posting it until Monday night or Tuesday morning.

Later!

Ideas On Tuesday 37

2011-11-08T19:20:00.003-06:00

F Trope: gypsy fortune telling

Current Event:

http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/local/crime/fl-fortune-teller-fraud-court-20110819,0,3619467.story

Serena Buzău is a sophomore in a highly selective, science and math high school near Minneapolis and despises her parent’s business. They travel from one fair or carnival or cruise ship to another and visit the homes of the gullible and wealthy – as gypsy fortune tellers.

Her life is good and outside of their “gigs”, her parents appear perfectly normal – her dad is an advertising consultant who runs his business from home and Mom has a beauty parlor in the basement. This gives the two of them freedom to do the “gypsy show”…though their “stage names” are actually their real names: Alin and Crina; and both are popular in the mountains of the Carpathian Mountain area of Romania.

They have their programs down to an art and occasionally – and ONLY if the money is right – they will cast curses.

This causes them no amount of amusement because they believe more in the power of suggestion than in the powers of ancient curses.

Then one day, word comes back to them that a curse they cast CAME TRUE exactly as they cast it. Others begin to come true as well. It soon appears that someone or something has decided to carry out the curses. Serena is up late one night, skyping with a friend of hers…

Image: http://workforcedevelopment.edublogs.org/files/2009/05/gypsy_fortune_teller.jpg

Slice of PIE – Change of Name?

2011-11-06T07:18:00.002-06:00

After four years, I’m starting to think about changing the name of my blog. But I’m not sure that will make any difference.

After four years, I’ve had something around 15000 hits (I know the counter is different, but since I’ve started, for one reason or another, the counter had to be reset). That’s a lot of hits.

Twenty-one people follow me. I’m very, very grateful to them!

I’m also wondering if it would be better if I renamed the blog to something less threatening.

I mean, think about it – in this day and age, how many people WANT to be irritated? Even possibly? There’s plenty to irritate me out in the real world without my intentionally seeking out MORE irritating essays!

Also, doing this on purpose means I have to TRY and bug people. The rest of my blog isn’t about that – it’s about working on my novels and kid’s books and seeking comments. I post a spare idea every Tuesday. My other blog is my own take as I’ve walked alongside my wife in her breast cancer experience (I do NOT want to say “journey”. That word implies taking a vacation or going somewhere you want to go – and arriving unscathed. My wife’s experience with breast cancer has been horrible, painful and full of weeping. There have BEEN joyful moments, but always after weeping…how’s that a “journey” of any sort? If you’re interested, you can check it out here: http://breastcancerreaper.blogspot.com/).

So far, the tally isn’t very encouraging – one blog and one weekly post intended to help people; one blog post asking for comments on my work in progress (I work on three projects at a time); and even on Sundays, I have three subjects I cover: WRITING ADVICE, Possibly Irritating Essays, and (like this one) a Slice of PIE (intended to irritate people only a little bit).

The total? Of eight types of posts, six are intended to help others or to help me (though I’ve always hoped people commenting on my works in progress would learn a thing or two as I change foci, character names, locations and directions in the story as it develops. I suppose I wanted it to be a learning experience for them as well as me.) One is blatantly out to get people’s goats, the other can be but isn’t always. Sometimes it’s just observations on life.

So, how about an analysis? What are the titles of the top five most popular blogs on Blogspot?

Can’t seem to find that, but I did find this: http://technorati.com/blogs/directory/. Techorati lists 1,285,000 blogs in nine categories. The largest category is “Living” with 52000 blogs. Of those, the largest categories are “Arts” and “Home”, each with some 19000 blogs.

Another site (http://www.ebizmba.com/articles/blogs) lists popular sites as well.

When it gets to the Top ___ Personal Blogs, it gets very fuzzy. People begin to break them into categories such as Science Fiction/Fantasy; Finance; Health; Family and Inspiration. Then you have Blogspot’s “Blogs of Note” – though based on what people are saying, there doesn’t seem to be a specific process. Which is fine. It doesn’t bother me because they’re giving me a free forum with no strings attached. All I have to do is use it.

So – as I can’t change the system, maybe I’ll change the blog’s name…

How about INTERSECT – ‘cause I love CHUCK on TV. The word is also in the blurb under the title. I also like the implications as well. So we’ll see. PIE may soon be under a new name!

Image: http://www.polymercolor.com/plasticquestionmark.jpg

SNAPPER XING 10

2011-11-03T19:54:00.001-05:00

“Dad! The turtle’s going to get hit by a car!” Lance cried.

Dad pulled Lance from the road and getting down on his knee beside him, said, “You can’t help the snapper if you get hurt!”

Snapper Xing stopped as a dark shadow roared past. The hard, hot black hurt her feet and chest. She stretched her legs and moved as fast as she could.

“She’s getting away!” Lance couldn’t get free of his dad’s arm around his chest.

Dad was on the phone, talking. Lance didn’t care what Dad was talking about. He wanted to save the snapper.

Another dark shadow rushed past Snapper Xing, behind her this time. The voice cheered her on and the smell of the water and wet sand that would hold her eggs was closer still!

Image: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_j1iGI4o1Y/SBRU8r05RZI/AAAAAAAABMs/jLI5zkp65Ss/s320/IMG_0871.JPG

Ideas On Tuesday 36

2011-11-01T05:55:00.002-05:00

SF Trope: immortality

Current Event: http://www.ias.ac.in/currsci/25jun2011/1761.pdf

As you well know by now, cancer became an intimate part of the life of my family in March with my wife’s breast cancer diagnosis.

As a science teacher with a BS in Biology, I read science articles and science books for fun…yeah, I know, total geek, huh? One of the books I haven’t gotten to yet but WILL get to eventually is The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. In essence, it is the story of a black woman whose cells were taken (without her knowledge or her family’s knowledge) in the 1950s and are being used for hundreds of cell experiments. These cells have been grown over and over and over – to a point that they have outlived the woman they came from and will likely continue on in some form or another for a long, long time.

So here’s the story seed: after a decades-long court battle, the HeLa Line is legally terminated and scientists have no more line to use; research is terminated and the effects ripple through the scientific world, trickling down into real world medicine. “All is lost!” cries the medical community.

Then a woman steps forward. Decades ago, her great grandmother started a line of cells taken from her son who later signed the rights of his cell line over to his mother who then gave the line to an obscure Christian college in Minnesota. The line has been worked with for some time, though the research is minor. An odd gene combination in the line has remained unstudied since its discovery.

Because it has a history, the new line – from the cells of James Stanton – the JaStan line, becomes the standard cell line used for research. Then someone clones a cell and grows a complete human being…

Image: http://www.audioeditions.com/audio-book-images/l/The-Immortal-Life-of-Henrietta-Lacks-938039.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Christianity – “For the Cosmos” or “A Humans Only” Club?

2011-10-30T13:07:00.005-05:00

Four years ago, I came into the blogosphere with a couple of essays I’d written in a different environment: http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2007/10/christianity-anthropocentric-or.html

The comments I got came mostly from one individual named David B. Ellis, who runs a blog called The Paintings of David B. Ellis (http://davidellisart.blogspot.com/) – though he hasn’t posted there since June 2011. They were good comments then and their wisdom has aged since and taken on a smooth, thoughtful character and I’d like to take a stab at the subject again…

His main objection to my thesis at the time was that I wasn’t defining my terms either well or correctly. This time I will try to do both and I’ll look at the Bible, in this case using both the New American Standard version as well as cross referencing an online Greek-English Interlinear Bible (http://www.scripture4all.org/OnlineInterlinear/Greek_Index.htm) to nail down my language.

This discussion will likely turn into a series and I’ll be posting them in the regular PIE column as well as collecting all of them under one tab you’ll find on the right, Christianity: “For the Cosmos” or a “Humans Only” Club?

For the purpose of this discussion, I’m going to be using the term “for the cosmos” instead of “universal”, the term I first used. Taking a roundabout path to explain the change, let me expand on this.

Why the change from universe to cosmos?

“universe” is “all existing matter and space”. The etymological dictionary proposes that the word came from a union of two phrases, unus (which means “one”) and versus (which means “to turn”).

Cosmos encompasses more: "order, good order, orderly arrangement," (the same root as cosmetology) Pythagoras is said to have been the first to apply this word to "the universe"; the Septuagint uses both kosmos and oikoumene. (This is where the name of Ursula K. LeGuin’s interstellar “Ekumen” comes from) so this is a bigger word, a more encompassing word. It seems to include someone who did the order in the first place.

For me, cosmos has a larger meaning than universe. So this point onward, I will say that Christianity is intended for the cosmos.

I want to point out that God created “the heavens” (Genesis 1:1) in addition to the Earth. He is a God of order and “God created” implies an orderly arrangement more than a turning matter and space.

As to that order, Human Christians have no trouble with the “God created the Earth” part of that verse. But as is typical of myopic Humanity (myself included), we ignore “the heavens” and interpret them to mean “everything that isn’t on Earth and therefore not particularly important”.

I am going to say that the heavens are MORE important than the Earth. That’s why they are mentioned first. Even in Hebrew, “heavens” came before “Earth” (http://www.scripture4all.org/OnlineInterlinear/OTpdf/gen1.pdf) though based on the relative unimportance of word-order in Hebrew, that may or may not be significant. However, among the Hebrew-speaking Christians who wrote the New Testament in Greek (where word order IS important), of the nine times where “heavens” and “Earth” are mentioned, seven times heaven is listed first.

I think that this implies that the heavens are at least as important as the Earth and likely more so.

In the Old and New Testament, stars and the heavens are mentioned together 25 times. While this isn’t conclusive proof that the stuff above Earth is important, I would venture to say that the stars are important to God.

If there is intelligent life living on worlds that orbit those stars, I believe that it is important to God as well. The heavens implies more than just stars and the universe, it implies the word cosmos, so that God and His plans are for the cosmos rather than simply for Humans.

Up next? If Humans were created perfect and fell from grace, are there intelligent life forms that were created perfect and did NOT fall from grace?

Image: http://i201.photobucket.com/albums/aa241/silverstream716/human-space-universe-cosmos.jpg

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS Chapter 31

2011-10-27T20:14:00.001-05:00

Mai Li Hastings continued as she sat up and slid to the edge of the hospital bed, “This is what you’re going to do, Doctor. You’re going to…” She swayed from side to side.

CJ Hastings, her fourteen-year-old brother and Mom each grabbed her under the arm and held her steady.

“Head rush,” she managed to say, her already pale skin turning nearly as white as the sheets she’d been laying on a moment ago.

“It might not be a good idea for you to go anywhere right now, Dear,” said Mom.

Mai Li shook her head, saying, “I’d rather drive red hot needles under my fingernails than agree with you, Mother, but I’d have to agree with you if I wasn’t pretty sure Dr. Mengele here was planning on trying something else to keep me where he can operate on my head with his stone knives, bearskins and herbal remedies.” She slid further forward, this time moving slowly and planting her feet on the ground, grabbing CJ’s arm hard. He fingers also made white indentations in Mom’s arm as well.

“You can’t…” Dr. Chazhukaran began.

Mom cut him off sharply saying, “Last time I looked, Doctor, I was on the paperwork as Mai Li’s legal guardian. All you are is her doctor.”

“And a pushy one at that,” Mai Li said softly.

“I can…”

CJ locked eyes with the man then with his free hand took out his cellphone, keyed in Job and said when his fiend answered, “Listen, Dr. Douchebag is planning on kidnapping my sister. Can you text Mr. J and tell him what’s going on?”

“Sure! Later,” Job replied. He added, “You want me to call my uncle? He’s a lawyer.”

“Calling your uncle the lawyer would be a good move, thanks.” He clicked off – but not until he hit the record key, saying, “I’m recording this conversation for future reference if it’s necessary.”

Mai Li tousled his hair again, whispering, “Idiot, not retard.” She sagged between them.

Dr. Chazhukaran stepped forward, reaching out and said, “You’re making a big mistake!”

Mai Li looked up, glaring at him and finally said, “The only thing I want you doing to me from now on is the autopsy.” She sagged again and said, “Take me home, Mom.”

Mom and CJ fixed Doctor Douchebag with matching glares and he finally backed down. He muttered, “You haven’t heard the last of this,” and fled the room.

CJ leaned close to Mai Li and whispered, “What do you have in mind?”

She turned her head slightly, sighed and said, “Get me into a wheelchair, check me out of this place and I’ll think of something by then.”

He glanced up at Mom who nodded and said, “I’ll hold her up. You go find a wheelchair.” He left them, but Mom called him back before he reached the door. She said, “You’d better stay here. I’m going to have to convince the nurses that Mai Li’s been discharged.”

“I am an adult,” CJ’s sister added softly.

“The legal paperwork never happened. One place where Dr. Chazhukaran messed up. Technically, you’re still disabled.”

“It might not be technical for much longer if I can’t find a way to reverse the nanomachine process.”

“What…”

“Mom, go get the wheelchair. I’ll tell you what I can after we’re out from under the spying eye of Big Brother.” Mom hurried out, leaving Mai Li to lean her entire weight on him. She said, “I’ll bet you don’t even know who Big Brother is.”

“I listened to 1984 on CD. Mr. Beidelman likes the book so I figured I’d listen to it to suck up to him.”

Mai Li laughed. “I always wondered where I got my devious streak from! Now I know.”

“You probably grew your own just like you grew all those brain cells.”

She snorted but said, “The nanos never made a new brain cell, little brother. They repaired the connections between the old ones, then added other ones to increase the connective density. That’s all that was wrong with my head. It wasn’t connected enough.” She paused, sagging against him even more. She wasn’t any trouble to hold up though. She’d been light before. It seemed to him like she weighed even less. “The problem is that in copying what your brain is doing now with a form of artificial exuberance, something’s wrong with the programming. The nanos seem to have stored…”

Mom came in just then, followed by a nurse with a wheelchair. She gestured to Mai Li, saying, “We need help getting out.”

The nurse said, “I can’t just take you…”

“I’ve signed the paperwork discharging my daughter. Now, I’ve had enough trouble with this whole medical procedure that I’ve retained a lawyer and my son is recording our conversation in order to make sure my wishes are explicitly followed. I want my daughter in the wheelchair and I want to meet her with my car in five minutes, or I’ll start filing the lawsuit.”

Grumbling, the nurse came alongside Mai Li and – despite his anger – helped CJ’s sister into the seat gently. She muttered something as she slid back and leaned against the chair. She lifted her head, looked at her mother and CJ and said, “We have to hurry. I don’t think I have a lot of time left to try something.”

Image: http://zsa86.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/m24.jpg

Ideas On Tuesday 35

2011-10-26T05:57:00.002-05:00

H Trope: small MONSTERS

Current Event: (not exactly a “current” event, but these movies never die – and the costumes come out every Halloween!) http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ijFPRg3dHDE/TD4saKS4bRI/AAAAAAAAAEM/NuEyy_6gcu0/s1600/Alien-Chest-Burster.jpg

The “little” monsters have always creeped me out because they can hide under your bed or in your closet.

MONSTERS, INC played with that idea, giving the monsters an excuse for doing what they did rather than being malevolent beasts intent on our desctruction.

Little monsters STILL creep me out. Probably THE most horrible little monster was the “chestburster” from the movie, ALIEN. I hated that thing. Gave me nightmares for months.

So – let’s stir it all up…an ALIEN-like creature lands on Earth, the last survivor of a ship-wide disaster. It has one egg left and implants it in an unwary stray dog. It’s born near the school and gets in during a dance.

Now the usual trope is that it eats the students until the Army rescues them or a smart and sassy girl leads a student group against the thing and smashes it in the nick of time…

But let’s try this, smart and sassy girl catches is and cages it. It grows fast but she manages to keep it fed and it IMPRINTS on her, following her loyally. Feeding it chickens and pigs and other barnyard fare (though it only eats once a week or so), she learns how to communicate with it…you take it from here!

WRITING ADVICE – Kristine Kathryn Rusch #5: Act Like a Winner and You Will Be

2011-10-23T04:00:00.000-05:00

I first ran across the work of Kristine Kathryn Rusch when her name appeared on the bottom of a standard rejection form I got from The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, where she was head editor for several years. A short time later, I ran across one of her short stories (“Retrieval Artist” in the June 2000 ANALOG), which of course, led me t0 her RETRIEVAL ARTIST novels. I’m a fan now and started reading her blog (http://kriswrites.com/) a year or more ago. As always, I look for good writing advice to pass on to you as well as applying it to my own writing. I have her permission to quote from the articles. You can find the complete article referenced below, as well as links to her recent ANALOG story (http://www.analogsf.com/2011_07-08/index.shtml) and the exclusive audio version that us reading folk won’t be able to get until December 2011 (http://www.audible.com/pd/ref=sr_1_1?asin=B005OSNTS8&qid=1317128702&sr=1-1).

I’ve been writing since I was thirteen, sending stories since I was sixteen, I was published for the first time when I was seventeen in a local magazine called LITTLE BIT. I’ve been writing and submitting ever since. Seriously published when I was forty in ANALOG. Lots since then. I write constantly and send stories out regularly as well as keeping up with my blog – in fact, increasing the number of posts since I started in 2007.

In MY mind, I am a writer. A science fiction writer for both adults and kids. I have a vision and my voice is pretty clear.

“…without the writer’s vision and voice, there is no product.

“Think I’m kidding? Look at it from a reader’s perspective—and please, no cheating here. Think about your favorite author of all time. [David Brin] Then tell me who publishes her work. [Ummm…] Tell me who published her (his) first novel. [Bantam Spectra?]

“Then tell me who first published Little Women. Or A Christmas Carol. Or Hamlet. (Scholars, pick something outside of your expertise.) Now, tell me who wrote Little Women, A Christmas Carol, and Hamlet. See how easy that is?

“The publisher gets the book distributed to the readers. Or did, once upon a time.

“That time has changed. Now all of us can download books on our e-reader or via our computer direct from the writer himself if we’re so inclined, and if that writer has enough foresight to have the book available. The distribution networks have changed and now the writer can access those networks easily.

“Mark Twain published his own work. So did Edgar Rice Burroughs. In fact, the only reason we’re familiar with Tarzan today is because Burroughs self-published.”

(From: http://kriswrites.com/2011/09/14/the-business-rusch-playing-to-win/)

I can say that I recognized this before, but knowing that it’s what Kristine Kathryn Rusch believes puts me in exalted company!

Some time ago, I wrote about a man who was selling his books because he was going to quit trying to be a writer (http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2011/06/possibly-irritating-essays-question-we.html). I cannot imagine NOT writing.

I also keep writing and learning about writing because sometime I will hit the right person with the right submission at the right moment.

But getting there can be rough. I just got a rejection today from someone who said, in part, “Any lesson learned…is unresolved…[You said you’d let us] ‘know if my gamble pays off.’” In other words – “You have nothing to say to us because you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ouch.

Kristine Kathryn Rusch seems to hold such an attitude in faint contempt – maybe. At least as far as my SELF image is concerned: “The key here is attitude. Think like a winner and you will succeed. It’s a variation on Dean[Wesley Smith]’s Think and Grow Thin method. He thinks about each bite he puts in his mouth and that enables him to lose weight. If you think about your writing career from the perspective of success rather than constant failure, then you will succeed over time.

“Does Dean manage to eat right every day? Nope. But when he doesn’t, he knows it and gets back on the right track a day or so later. Likewise, you won’t succeed at writing and business every single day. You will fail. But no one wins without losing. Failures teach you how to be a success. In fact, the biggest successes always have a slew of failures behind them. Failing is how we learn.”

I’ve been learning for decades. I’ll continue writing, learning and submitting.

As a writer, there’s no other choice!

Image: http://store03.prostores.com/dcbcollectibles/media/a8/a20792b129dd069e907f2f_m.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 22: DaneelAH and Company Out of Malacandra

2011-10-20T20:31:00.005-05:00

MishAH, AzAH, HanAH and DaneelAH – four purple artificial Humans who were the property of the Mayor of Malacandra – rode in silence in the Marsbug as it sped over the surface of the Red Planet.

They had been stolen.

“Paolo Conciliação disappeared...and he became a Christian?" exclaimed HanAH. He tried to stand up. The straps held him down, keeping him from banging his head on the ceiling.

DaneelAH pursed his lips then said, “Now we know where he is.”

“No,” said HanAH, “We don't. We're in a locked Marsbug, on our way to a rendezvous with no idea of where we're going or what's going to happen once we get there. We may be in the hands of a homicidal marsatic.”

“Well, at least we know what happened to him,” MishAH said, tightening her straps.

Scowling, HanAH asked, “What?”

“He became a criminal.”

“Now he’s a thief,” said AzAH. She settled down into her seat. “It looks to me that after ‘we’ said ‘yes’ to his offer of a ride, we’re stuck in here for the next fifteen hours.” She shot a glare at DaneelAH, who shrugged.

“It seemed like the right thing to say at the time – and it seemed in line with what Mayor Turin has in plan for us.”

“How do we know she’s not as devious as Mayor Torgerson?” HanAH said.

“What?” asked DaneelAH.

“Torgerson tried to murder this Paolo not long after his grandmother died. She tried to pass the reigns of leadership to him – we have to assume that she had prepared him for his job.” MishAH paused, scowled then continued, “We also have to assume that she prepared him for this eventuality.”

DaneelAH exclaimed, “She planned for him to be murdered?”

“You’ve had a Complete Martian History downloaded into your memory. Try and tell me that that would have been impossible! She was brilliant, sly and a consummate politician. How else would she have run Mars as UN Governor General for forty years?” DaneelAH turned from the rest of them to stare out at the passing landscape. “She would have planned for this.”

“What would she have done?” asked AzAH, “Planned to haunt Torgerson from the grave?”

DaneelAH said abruptly, “There’s another possibility.” He said to HanAH, “Enlarge the image and then focus on Paolo’s face and Mayor Marcillon’s face.” She did. DaneelAH said, “Enlarge and remaster the resolution, extrapolating from all databases.” The image vanished then reappeared.” He studied the image.

AzAH said, “I’ve been translating all my life – and I don’t just mean words. When I work, I have to interpret unspoken language as well. I watch facial expressions, body position and listen to an analyze tone. I can tell you unequivocally that that young man is terrified. I don’t care what his words are, he’s afraid of something.” She swiped a finger through the other image. “That’s his grandmother, Eleanor Roosevelt Marcillon and he expression is extremely intent – but not on her grandson. She’s looking over here.” He flipped the image so that it expanded and she poked a face, remastering it. After a moment, it resolved into clarity.

“Isn’t that Hanam vo’Maddux?” said MishAH.

“Seventy years ago.”

“He hasn’t changed a bit.”

DaneelAH rode out a series of harmonic bumps in the road then said, “I know who it is. My question is that she’s the Mayor of Opportunity’s Chief of Security right now. What was she doing on the podium between the Founding Mayor and the First Settler of Mars – in Malacandra short before the disappearance of the Founding Mayor’s hand-picked-for-succession grandson?”

Image: http://michigancitizen.com/clients/michigancitizen/1-18-2010-12-00-18-PM-4624034.mlk.speakin..gif

Ideas on Tuesday 34

2011-10-18T22:18:00.003-05:00

F Trope: ancient “ages”

Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wondjina

ALSO Current Event (with a TOTALLY different take!): http://ancient-aliens-were-here.blogspot.com/2011/02/ancient-aliens-evidence-wandjina.html

This doesn’t exactly say that the Aborigines of Australia are descended from these fantastic images, but the implication is there.

While the “wak dude” mixes images from various places and ages and makes them appear to be contiguous, he completely misses the real point here. He completely misses the possibility of something truly amazing happening in Australia…

What if the gods HAD come to Earth? Arthur C. Clarke has oft been quoted as saying, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” (Clarke's Third Law. Profiles of the Future (revised edition, 1973)). What if they were gods simply because they were technologically advanced.

What if the Australian Aboriginals are their descendants? What if the Australian Aboriginals are the REAL Children of God?

Selena V. Vang has grown up in Perth her whole life, he parents professors of economics and mathematics at the University there. So she is completely consumed by the metaphysical – religion, philosophy, the paranormal. All of it. Her parents have no idea who she is and can’t understand her – though she has a good handle on them.

She meets an Aboriginal and falls for him – and then starts to have weird dreams and hearing voices in her head. It’s one thing to be a metaphysician ‘cause it bugs your parents. It’s something else ENTIRELY when it turns out that the metaphysics not only are indefinable but quite possibly TRUE! What does she do when the gods are being persecuted by the very people they initially came to help

Image: http://www.theoldtrouts.org/ignorance/wp-content/upLoads/2011/01/Wandjina_aboriginal_rock_art.jpg

Slice of PIE: A Writer’s Conference – Author’s Blackjack?

2011-10-16T14:24:00.005-05:00

This isn't a Slice of PIE today -- more like the whole thing -- but I wanted to get it down while it was still fresh in my head!

I just got back from the 2011 Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators Fall Conference.

I’ll tell you right now that going to a conference is a big gamble. What do I mean by that?

Let me define “gamble” first. It means, “to play at any game of chance for money or other stakes; to stake or risk money, or anything of value, on the outcome of something involving chance; to lose or squander by betting; to wager or risk; to take a chance on; venture; risk; any matter or thing involving risk or hazardous uncertainty; a venture in a game of chance for high stakes, especially high stakes.”

How can going to a writer’s conference be any of those things?

Let me clear the air here to say that it has nothing to do with the effort the planning group put into the event (yesterday’s MN SCBWI Conference was a wonderful day!). It has a little to do with the invited guests (all of whom were excellent in different ways). It has even less to do with where it was held, what we ate, or who the participants were.

It had everything to do with chance and a little bit of skill. Like blackjack, that’s where the gamble was.

The main guests were (in alphabetical order): Dawn Fredrick, non-fiction agent; Andrew Harwell, associate editor at HarperCollins Children’s Books; Allison McGhee, writer; Lonnie Plecha, CRICKET MAGAZINE editor; Dan Santat, illustrator; Nicole Tugeau, illustrator agent; and Mike Wohnoutka, illustrator. A smattering of other, more experienced writers and illustrators were also there informally. They mains were supposed to be at the disposal of the participants and they were wonderful about it, autographing books and answering questions both simple and complex with patience and grace.

The event cost me $125 and this is the first step in taking this gamble.

We are not rich and I don’t make anything but a tiny pittance of the family income off my writing. I’m pretty sure I didn’t directly bring in $125 this year to cover the conference cost. I’m NOT saying the event cost too much. My school district is shelling out over $1000 to send me to a training to learn to better coordinate the International Baccalaureate program as a counselor at the school I work at. However, the $125 came out of the family budget. That’s the money I have plunked down on the blackjack table.

Blackjack, while still a game of chance also involves a bit of skill.

But I haven’t reached the blackjack table yet! Another thing I’ve got to shed is the “wisdom” I gained. The authors, illustrators, editors and agents shared some amazing things. Because they shared so much and in order for me to get my money’s worth out of any conference I go to, I distill everything I heard into five tips or insights. Even though I took fifteen pages of notes, I can’t apply ALL of those ideas, so I boil the notes down and choose THE most important thing I learned from each of the workshops I went to or person I heard speak:

Dan Santat: the writer’s and illustrator’s ultimate goal is to be a storyteller (this from a man who turned down the Creative Director job offered to him by GOOGLE twice…)

Lonnie Plecha: does my work have TRUTH or “truthiness”?

Andrew Harwell: the plot arc defines character development

Allison McGhee: “Are you going to be Allison or are you going to be Penny Rosier?”

Dawn Frederick: “I am not competing against you, I want to partner with you.”

All of the above are good things.

I now have the cards in my hands, the dealers – in this case the agent and the editors (as wonderful as they are, the writer and illustrator can’t REALLY help my career as a writer). The dealers are Lonnie, Andrew and Allison.

Allison deals with non-fiction, so I lose here immediately because though I write non-fiction (my book and recent issues of TURTLE MAGAZINE and HOPSCOTCH FOR GIRLS all contain science experiments) I have nothing to offer her for representation. She’s a wonderful lunch companion, but as far as my writing goes – and I make no bones about it, I came to conference to advance my writing – meeting her is a wash unless I can parlay a deal with her partner who handles fiction (though she’s currently looking for paranormal and that’s way, way outside of my field).

That leaves Lonnie and Andrew.

It’s been a while since I submitted to CRICKET. I have a good idea and once I’ve written the story, I’ll send it – but there’s really nothing else I can do but submit. That is a normal gamble. It’s one I make every time I send out a story or article.

Andrew.

I took a real risk here. Between sessions, instead of going to get a cookie and water in the next building, I waited in the auditorium. In my back pocket, I had two notecards one with my elevator pitch (“a short summary used to quickly and simply define a product…The name reflects the idea that it should be possible to deliver the summary in the time span of an elevator ride…”) for HEIRS OF THE SHATTERED SPHERES (teen science fiction) and one with the pitch for VICTORY OF FISTS (teen contemporary). Andrew came down the steps next to me to the stage where he’d be evaluating “first pages” with Lonnie and Dawn. He talked with the Regional Advisor, Quinette Cook. I ran down the stairs, almost tripping (a dramatic entrance that would have been) and waited while Andrew and Quinette finished talking. Quinette (whom I worked with several years ago) introduced us and I pitched. He ignored VICTORY – high and outside (his area of expertise). But his eyes sparked at HEIRS, he took a swing and a moment later, I had his card. I'd earlier gathered from him that he was on the 19^th Floor (“A manuscript will get to me a week earlier if you put that on it!”) and that he prefers HARD COPY to emails (“I have about a thousand emails in my queue right now. It’s a mess.”) I just have to find out if he takes full manuscripts or if I send a query with a partial…though HarperCollins “only accepts agented material” and I’ve already queried him. So, should I send a full or a partial? (“Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?”) Your insight would be appreciated!

I’ll let you know if my gamble pays off.

Image: http://www.casinosonline.co.uk/userContent/b2.gif

SHORT LONG JOURNEY #31: July 15, 1946

2011-10-13T20:59:00.002-05:00

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, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on the bottom.

Freddie Merrill screamed and spun around to run away.

A figure stepped from the shadows. Taller than top of the boathouse windows, two massive arms reached out, one clotheslining Freddie, the other curling around Tommy Hasting’s chest.

Before they could go any further, the voice form the darkness said, “Älä vahingoita heitä, Ilmari.” The grip loosened immediately. “Tuo heidät sisälle.” The big man moved the boys to the beach then around the corner and into the door of the boat house. Flickering yellow light filled the dark brick structure. Water filled the center of the house, but there were pebbly dry walks on both sides. At the back of the boathouse was a large dry area, boat hooks, boards, fishing tackle and nets, oars and the strong smell of gasoline and oil. Thirty men and a few women milled about. All of them were short, stocky and dressed in the rough, dark cloth of grounds workers, craftsmen and maintenance men. The house folk wore dark clothes with white collars.

Tommy saw all of this with his chest constricted not in terror but by the massive arm of the man, Ilmari. He made his way by himself, feet still touching the ground. The man held Freddie by the neck, his feet dangling. Freddie held desperately to Ilmari’s massive forearm to keep from strangling.

A tall, slender blonde man with an startlingly deep voice said, “Anna heidän mennä, Ilmari.”

Ilmari let go. Tommy pitched forward and Freddie crumpled to the ground, gasping.

One of the women strode up to them and fists on her hips, said, “Who sent you?” Freddie curled into a ball on the ground and groaned. She looked down at him in disgust and swung her booted foot back to obviously kick him.

The blonde man said, “Annukka! They’re just boys, not spies!”

She snorted but let her foot drop to the ground. “How do you know that, Roope?”

From farther back in the crowd, another tall man with a woman on his arm stepped forward and said, “Because we told him so.” Tommy cried out in surprise.

From the pebble floor, Freddie scrambled to his feet. “It’s Bonnie and Clyde.”

Image: http://www.tiomkin.com/assets/images/gallery/large/DT1304L.jpg

Ideas on Tuesday 33

2011-10-11T06:32:00.001-05:00

SF Trope: alien invasion

Current Event: http://moneyland.time.com/2011/08/16/paul-krugman-an-alien-invasion-could-fix-the-economy/

So – alien invasion as a US stimulus package?

Can there be a more prosaic use of an alien threat? Certainly it’s been thought through before – the interview references “an old Twilight Zone” episode…(the fact is that it’s an old OUTER LIMITS episode called “Architects of Fear” in which a physicist agrees to undergo major surgery to “become an alien” in order to scare Earth’s people into joining together to fight it).

World peace I can understand.

But an alien invasion to make it possible for WalMart to expand to the African Sahel? Alien invasion to balance the investment portfolios of the half of Congress who are registered millionaires?

Puhleez!

But let’s just say that aliens are as greedy, self-centered and money-grubbing as Humans. And let’s just say that ALSO have a bit of an altruistic streak. So they “invade” Earth, apparently causing massive destruction…in the Sahara; in the Outback; in the Himalayas; at the bottom of the Pacific (nowhere IMPORTANT – except for the aboriginals, researchers and hermits who live in those places. Certainly nowhere, like, that anyone cares about!)

The rich and famous figure they’re “in the know” and that the “invasion” is a ploy to bring about “world peace”. A kid lives with one of those families. He IS a child of privilege. He also knows he might rebel against the wealth. He also loathes the idea of being predictable. So once he hears his parents and their friends and his friends ridiculing the mass hysteria, he decides to find out the truth for himself...

Image: http://www.technovelgy.com/graphics/content05/americans-army-starfighter.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: There Is No Such Thing As “Writer’s Block”!

2011-10-09T08:40:00.007-05:00

If writing were religion, then there would be two primary tenets:

To be a writer, you have to write.

The second is like it:

Writer’s block can destroy you.

If we hold these truths to be self-evident, then I will have to submit to being bound and burned as a heretic, because I think they’re a loada.

First Tenet Attack: Writers can be researchers, planners, outliners, readers, critiquers, and reviewers. They can also be re-writers, revisers and cross-outers. No writer I know simply writes (unless you want to count the infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of laptops producing the complete works of Shakespeare – must have been some editor to tackle THAT job!)

Second Tenet Attack: I don’t believe in “writer’s block” because I’ve never had it.

I can hear someone in the audience shouting, “Just because you’ve never had writer’s block – and I think you’re lying! – doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t have it!”

Wrong. Even though % of writers surveyed say that they have experienced “writer’s block”, not a single one can say exactly what or why it is. They simply fling out the phrase that is unique to the writing world and expect the rest of us to coo and cluck in sympathy and offer pats on backs and anecdotes of others we’ve known who’ve survived “writer’s block” – rather than accusing them.

“Accusing them of what?” the heckler shouts. “They have writer’s block!”

I’d sigh. Writers invoke the phrase in a way that Roman Catholics invoke the Blessed Virgin.

Before I tell you what I’d accuse them of, I’d ask a few questions. Since many writers would never THINK to question a self-diagnosis of “writer’s block” (now what’s wrong with THAT idea?), I’ll ask them:

1) Do you feel safe in your home? (Always the first question out of a doctor’s mouth these days – and not without good cause!)

2) What were you doing when you came down with the initial symptoms?

3) Have you had any contact recently with others exhibiting the same symptoms?

4) Please describe your symptoms exactly.

5) Have you noticed blocks in other areas of your life: Are you having regular bowel and bladder movements? Have you had trouble getting or maintaining an erection? Have you had trouble keeping food down? Have you had trouble drinking alcoholic beverages? Have you stopped watching professional sporting events on TV or online? Have you had trouble chatting with friends on Faceplant or texting?Please describe your symptoms precisely.

6) If someone can answer these questions with complete honesty and still claim that they have “writer’s block”, then they are lying and deserve the accusation of being lazy, unprofessional, childish or ridiculous.

Just in case you were wondering? I’m not the only heretic in the writing community here are some others: Natalie Goldberg (Writing Down the Bones); Philip Pullman (The Golden Compass); Steve Martin (The Pleasure of my Company, A Novel); Frank Herbert (Dune); Jeffery Deaver (Carte Blanche); Roy Blount, Jr. (The Joy of Text); Mary Garden (“Can meditation be bad for you?”); William Stafford (The Darkness Around Us Is Deep: Select Poems); Andy Ihnatko (Chicago Sun-Times’ tech columnist) – I’m sure I could find others, but so can you.

You can also find 2,500,000 sites devoted to breaking it if you insist on having it.

Image: http://steven-dean.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/writers_block1-256x300.jpg

SNAPPER XING 9

2011-10-06T20:19:00.000-05:00

Lance reached the busy highway. A huge marsh stretched away to a far shore on the other side. On his side, a big pond took up a corner of the apartment building lot.

Snapper Xing could see the reeds past the hard, hot black. She felt the eggs inside her wanting to get out. She crawled as fast as she could.

Lance cried out, “She’ll never make it! The cars will run her over. I have to stop the traffic, Dad! Hurry snapper! Go faster!” He took a wobbly step on to the asphalt just as Dad caught his shirt.

Snapper Xing heard noise behind her. She often ran from noise, but this did not sound like the noise she should run from. It sounded like a voice cheering her on.

Image: http://wwwdelivery.superstock.com/WI/223/1672/PreviewComp/SuperStock_1672R-34013.jpg

Ideas on Tuesdays 32

2011-10-04T09:58:00.001-05:00

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: giant monsters
Current Event: http://scienceblogs.com/tetrapodzoology/2010/11/science_of_godzilla_2010.php

I have always loved Godzilla. I should say that I’ve always been terrified of Godzilla. The picture above I find more frightening of all of them. Don’t know why but I think it has something to do with the back-lighting.

At any rate, “Godzilla as gigantic pet and powerful force for good” was done in the latter part of the 1990s with the cartoon TV show, Godzilla The Series (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Godzilla:_The_Series), so I don’t want you to do that all over again.

So how about this: Godzilla is getting old. Radioactivity has made it sterile (and besides, no one has ever seen Mrs. Godzilla; the rehash 1998 implied that Godzilla was parthenogenetic (it could self-reproduce by cloning), but let’s skip that and make ourselves an elderly Godzilla. Let’s also postulate that the monster isn’t stupid; say give it the native intelligence of a 5-year-old kid. He’s gentle now, kind even, but not particularly keen on taking on the Japanese navy again by invading Tokyo; or the US navy by invading San Francisco.

A couple of kids deep sea diving through the commune they live in on an old oil drilling platform stumble across the sleeping “monster”. It swallows them ( a la the whale in FINDING NEMO or the Book of Jonah) then spits them up on a coral atoll. There, having learned a sort of pidgin English/Japanese, it talks to them, asking that they help it die a peaceful death. Web-savvy kids every one, they come up with a plan. Throw in an obligatory evil scientist who wants to study Godzilla and doesn’t respect kids, and you might have a short story here. Something like, “Saving Godzilla”…

Image: http://rarerborealis.com/wordpressblog/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/godzilla2012.jpg

WRITING ADVICE – Kristine Kathryn Rusch #4: Free Fiction Mondays

2011-10-02T04:00:00.002-05:00

I first ran across the work of Kristine Kathryn Rusch when her named appeared on the bottom of a standard rejection form I got from The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, where she was head editor for several years. A short time later, I ran across one of her short stories (“Retrieval Artist” in the June 2000 ANALOG), which of course, led me t0 her RETRIEVAL ARTIST novels. I’m a fan now and started reading her blog (http://kriswrites.com/) a year or more ago. As always, I look for good writing advice to pass on to you as well as applying it to my own writing. I have her permission to quote from the articles. You can find the complete article referenced below, as well as links to her recent ANALOG story (http://www.analogsf.com/2011_07-08/index.shtml) and the exclusive audio version of a RETRIEVAL ARTIST novel that us reading folk won’t be able to get until December 2011 (http://www.audible.com/pd/ref=sr_1_1?asin=B005OSNTS8&qid=1317128702&sr=1-1).

No specific article this week, but I just want to bring your attention to Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s regular FREE FICTION MONDAY.

To put a frame around the kind of impact this had on my blogging, I need to give you a brief history of this blog. When I started in June of 2007, (which I transferred to Blogspot.com from some extremely obscure site I started on) I posted infrequently and only the seminal articles that gave my blog its name – Possibly Irritating Essays. In December, I tried dispensing my own writing advice, but no one seemed interested (most likely because though I’d been multiply published in two major venues (ANALOG and CRICKET) I had no novel (and subsequently no agent or editor readers could ask to borrow) and I started to look around to see if other better known writers were offering writing advice. In November of 2008, I had permission from children’s author and co-founder of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators to use writing advice from a talk she’d given at the local SCBWI conference.

In January of 2009 I made my first offering of “free fiction” with a series that’s currently running – because it’s actually my first draft of a novel called MARTIAN HOLIDAY (I KNOW there are major inconsistencies! That’s what I’m doing it for: to develop the book and test it out! Three others are awaiting editing, one a final edit before it hits the road.) THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS began next, followed by others. I asked for comments and only got them infrequently – but what I did get was gratefully received and applied as quickly as possible. But again, few people noticed. I shudder to think about the number of comments KKR would get if she tried this!

I have a rhythm now – as well as adding a second blog chronicling the family’s life from my wife’s diagnosis of breast cancer (Guy’s Gotta Talk About Breast Cancer (it’s sorta a play on words, actually, though I think the humor is mostly lost: http://breastcancerreaper.blogspot.com/).

Sunday is a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, a Slice of PIE, or this: WRITING ADVICE.

Monday is nothing.

Tuesday is the idea I got from KKR’s site: IDEAS ON TUESDAY. I rotate between science fiction, fantasy and horror tropes that I picked up from some website or another (possibly this one, though I doubt it: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SpeculativeFictionTropes). But instead of just tossing an idea out there, I throw in a current news story, add some adolescents and then let the reader play and run away with it. All I ask in return is that they let me know if the idea bears fruit.

Wednesday is a break for me.

Thursday is my version of Free Fiction Monday and I currently rotate between two novels and a children’s picture book.

Friday is free.

Saturday is my post at GUY’S GOTTA TALK ABOUT BREAST CANCER.

Then it starts all over again. KKR has an enormous amount of information, advice, fiction and connections on her site. I seek to emulate that and as the number of my published works increases (and moves into novels) I expect the number of visitors to my site will increase slowly.

image: http://the-best-web-hosting-service.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/hosting-resources.jpg

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS 30

2011-09-29T05:57:00.001-05:00

Dr. Chazhukaran crossed his arms over his chest, scowled but said, “I’m listening.”

Mai Li Hastings snorted from her seat on the hospital bed. “Right. Just like you listened to Mom’s objections…”

“She’s the one who signed the papers OKing the surgery!”

“Based on your intentional misrepresentation of the both the exact procedure and the projected outcome!”

“What?” Dr. Chazhukaran expression was genuinely startled. Thirteen-year-old CJ Hastings felt suddenly sorry for the man he privately (and sometimes publicly) called Dr. Douchebag.

Mai Li made a brushing motion as if getting rid of him, and said, “First of all, I want out of the hospital.”

This time, all three of them – Mom, CJ and the doctor – exclaimed, “What?”

“There’s absolutely nothing they can do for me here.” She glared at the doctor, “You’re going to have to call off your stupid Chihuahuas.”

“My what?”

“Send your University students home with their fake ambulance,” translated CJ.

“But…”

“You already tried to kidnap me and failed miserably, Doctor. How much more do you want to embarrass yourself?” said Mai Li.

“I haven’t failed…”

“I’m not at the University under the tender ministrations of your Josef Mengele interns in some hidden basement laboratory,” she said it the way people in horror movies say the word. “My mom and brother will knock your head off and call the real cops if you so much as touch me; and it’s very likely your experiment may revert to its original state.”

This time, Dr. Chazhukaran made only a faint wheezing sound. Mom and CJ turned to face her. CJ said, “What do you mean, ‘revert to its original state’?”

Mai Li reached out, tousled CJ’s blond curls and said, “See, little brother? You’re not retarded, you’re only an idiot.” Her smile was the same one she’d given him just before she’d taught him how to read: unrelated in any way to her old smile – the one she used when it was gap-toothed and drooly-mouthed and only for him. This smile? Not even close to what he remembered was normal. This smile was related more to the one you’d see on a Great White shark moving in on a kill… She added, “As you can see, Dr. Chazhukaran knows of what I speak.” She locked her photon torpedo gaze on him, smiled again and said, “I’m assuming you’ve read ‘Flowers For Algernon’, Dr. Douchebag?”

It took a long time, but finally the doctor nodded slowly.

“Good, then you probably have some vague, primitive idea of what we’re up against.” She paused then amended, “Did I say ‘we’? I meant ‘I’ – because I’m the only one here risking anything at all. Isn’t that true, Doctor?”

It took a long time, but finally the doctor inclined his head in a tiny, tight, bare nod.

image: http://nekodan.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/sgem-broken.png?w=520

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 31

2011-09-27T04:00:00.000-05:00

F Trope: medievalism

Current Event: http://www.renaissancefest.com/MRF/info.html

We all know it’s in good fun. The Minnesota Renaissance Festival is gearing up for the 2011 season, which will run weekends from August 20 through October 2. It’s the largest Renaissance Festival in the United States and expects to draw a quarter-of-a-million people!

The Largest is by no means the only. In 2011, there are going to be a total of 230 festivals, faires, gatherings, games and days.

Anyone who has never head of Robert Jordan’s WHEEL OF TIME books or any other of the thousands of “knock offs” that take place in some “mythical”, medievaloid, Godless/godsfull “Land” or “Shire” or “Kingdom” or “Dukedom” or “Dumbdom” has been living on a different planet – what with the books having been translated into 24 or 28 languages (depending on whether you listen to the OFFICIAL site (24 in 2010) or the other site (28 in 2009). Amazon.com lists 801 books when you type in “sword and sorcery novels” and I’m sure it’s missing some.

The discrepancies when 21^st Century people go to and enjoy the “fun” of 15 Century England and the actual conditions and socioeconomic reality of that time are immense. The discrepancies are illustrated here:

“A police officer and a man in a kilt and boots walk side by side. Not far away, a pirate is talking on a cell phone…period actors, who are dressed in elaborate costumes. More than a few of the visitors go as pirates, a la Johnny Depp in ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’…A couple years ago it was ‘Lord of the Rings.’ Organizers work hard to create the illusion of 15th-century France. But in the beverage tent, the 21st century comes through loud and clear. ‘Two Aquafinas, please,’ said a pirate with a sweaty brow.”¹

But the socioeconomic REALITY of that time period is something most writers ignore – completely. For your story today, I’d like you to take an average high school student from an URBAN high school (you can go “first ring suburb” if you insist) and fling them back in time (magically) and send them on a wizard quest to find someone who is a product of his time and NOT enlightened like Gandalf! DON’T use LORD OF THE RINGS or WHEEL OF TIME as your basis, but THIS: http://history-world.org/renaissance.htm or this http://www.islamawareness.net/Europe/Italy/rennaissance.html.

¹ http://www.columbiamissourian.com/stories/2006/08/20/when-centuries-collide/

image: http://queue.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8345293e069e20148c7d2668a970c-800wi

Slice of PIE: WHY Do We Like Harry Potter?

2011-09-25T06:27:00.004-05:00

…or Miles Vorkosigan, Lessa of Pern, Frodo Baggins, Honor Harrington, Paul Muad’Dib or Podkayne of Mars?

The cop-out answer would be that we “just do for our various reasons”. But as a writer, I need to go deeper than that. To this end, I’ve read a half-dozen books on how to create characters. Nancy Kress’ book, DYNAMIC CHARACTERS is on my shelf downstairs; as are Orson Scott Card’s HOW TO WRITE SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY and CHARACTER AND VIEWPOINT; THE CRAFT OF WRITING SCIENCE FICTION THAT SELLS by Ben Bova; WRITING FOR CHILDREN AND TEENAGERS by Lee Wyndam; and my most recent purchase, BREATHING LIFE INTO YOUR CHARACTERS by Rachel Ballon.

All of them have given me at least ONE thing I can do to create realistic characters. Some have given more. That new one – in which the practicing clinical psychologist/writing coach posits that where a psychotherapist can through intense questioning and listening, tease apart the soul and mind of a client and then suggest healing strategies they might try; a writer can reverse the process and create realistic, living characters -- hasn't done much for me.

I haven’t found it particularly helpful up to this point (about half-way through when I stopped…) While I am sure that its claims to success are valid, I noticed that while the author has coached dozens of people to success, she’s never written a best-seller herself. I’m sure this is great for some writers – I am probably not one of them.

I’m still left with the question of why we like Harry, Miles, Lessa, Frodo, Honor, Paul and Podkayne. Is it that the authors (JK, Lois, Anne, JRR, David, Frank and Robert) worked out extensive character sketches of each of our favorites? Truth be told, I haven’t found evidence for that in my reading. None of them talk about reverse psychoanalyzing the characters from scratch. At least one of them tells the story that her character simply appeared in her head after which she outlined his entire educational experience. Then she wrote it.

I fiddled with this for a long time before I finally started to tease free some sort of answer. It might be best illustrated by something I wrote in the cover of one of the books ten years ago: “I read and reread these books. What compelled me? Why does Miles – an imaginary character so draw me now? Because Miles is unsure of himself – even when he succeeds, he wonders, deep down inside, if it was an accident; fate moving him; God’s hand – anything but his own actions, instincts and training. ANYTHING but his own competence. Mistakes he takes perfectly in stride because he EXPECTS to make horrible blunders and expects to learn from them. He owns them. But when he succeeds, then it has to be SOMETHING else – luck, fate, whatever – but NOT HIM. That’s how I feel…”

Six words – “incompetent, accidentally successful” and “how I feel” – encompass what it means to create character. What, was Paul Muad’Dib incompetent? Yes, in many contexts he was. Lessa of Pern, heroine of an age, accidentally successful? Yes, several times over. Frodo incompetent? HOW was the Ring of Power finally destroyed?

Characters who deeply doubt their competence are people I can connect with very easily because I feel that way often.

What of people who do not doubt their competence? Perhaps they are NOT readers because they don't NEED to be…

image: http://images.wikia.com/honorverse/images/6/60/Ashes_of_victory.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 21: Paolo in Hellas Planitia

2011-09-23T06:20:00.001-05:00

Svetlana Ismailova pulled off her thin, black stocking cap and shook her hair free. It was a stunning indigo, just the blue side short of black. “Satisfied?”

“But your skin! It’s not purple!” cried the woman again.

Svetlana sighed, “You think just because you make us purple we’ll stay purple?” The blank looks and slow blinks made her shake her head, “For most of the 20^th Century, people with dark, dark brown skin tried thousands of ways to lighten it. We’ve been doing the same thing for the past seventy-three years. Nanomacs designed to work on artificial skin can make any AH look like any born Human.”

“How can we tell you apart?”

Svetlana shot back, “Why would you need to?”

Micah Ruffin stepped to Svetlana’s side, turning to face Paolo Marcillon, Chen Li and Chumani Minnesota. “The more important question is ‘What do we do with these invaders’?”

Paolo sucked in his lower lip, bit it then said, “Could I prove to you that not only am I a Christian Witness, I’d be willing to join your Fellowship?”

Svetlana snorted and lifted her nerve disruptor – the only deadly weapon in the lot.

Paolo spread his arms from his sides and looked Svetlana in the eye and said, “All right then, kill me now.” He closed his eyes.

After several moments, she said, “Fine then. What can you offer the Fellowship that we can’t get anywhere else?”

Paolo opened his eyes. Svetlana had holstered her disruptor and the others had done the same. But Paolo, Chen and Chumani still stood apart from the other group – if not under the gun, then under intense scrutiny. He said, “I can offer information through a net of Christians all over Mars.”

Svetlana snorted but said, “How do you keep in touch with them? Mars Authority has all the commlinks monitored.”

“Paper messages.” Several of the people in the Fellowship laughed outright. Paolo shrugged and added, “It worked over two thousand years ago to spread the Gospel all over the known world.” He caught Micah’s eye. “The Russian Revolution happened the same way, as did the American Revolution and the French Revolution. Passing your ideas, beliefs and messages on paper has a long and venerable history.”

The Olmec-looking woman, Alayc To’xay, nodded, adding, “It has the advantage of the Mars Authority not expecting it.”

From behind Paolo, Chen said, “Don’t underestimate the MA.”

Svetlana nodded, “We haven’t. Why do you think we’re at the bottom of a dust sink?”

Micah cut in and said, “You can stay with us for a day – throw off the scent, so to speak. But you have to move on.”

Paolo nodded, saying, “Thank you.” Micah dispersed the crowd to their business. Paolo said, “Besides hiding, what are you doing out here?”

Micah’s lips thinned, as if considering a risk. Finally he said, “We’re following clues laid out in the Legend of the Watchers.”

Paolo heard either Chen or Chumani snort in laughter, so he held up a hand behind him. Micah’s eyes shot a hard glance over Paolo’s shoulder, then went back to him. He said, “I know it sounds crazy, but we’ve found some strange evidence that points to the Watchers being real – and extinct.”

image: http://www.highmars.org/niac/images/skylite1.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 30

2011-09-20T06:11:00.003-05:00

SF Tropes: parallel universes

Current Event: http://www.npr.org/2011/01/24/132932268/a-physicist-explains-why-parallel-universes-may-exist

I’ve loved the idea of parallel universes for a long, long time, first coming across the idea in STAR TREK’s controversial episode, “City on the Edge of Forever”. Kirk, Spock and McCoy accidentally travel to Earth of the 1930’s in which a certain young woman named Edith Keeler was killed after being hit by a car. Turns out her death allowed the Allies to beat German and Japan and eventually led to the United Federation of Planets. If she had lived, Germany would have won WWII and there would have been no James T. Kirk and no USS Enterprise.

McCoy may have saved the woman’s life and Kirk and Spock discover that they must let her die – after Kirk falls in love with her.

Complicated, you say? You should read the story about the politics of the people who wrote and USED the story! *whew!*

Anyway, the author has this to say, “Sometimes I would imagine an irreverent me way down the line who refused to fall into place, disrupting the steady progression and creating a new reality that informed the ones that followed.”

Here’s your chance to take it away – in fact, you can take it ANY way you want to. But here’s one possibility: that image that he talks about, the one “way down the line”? What if the image on his left reached out of the mirror, grabbed him by the belt loop and jerked him into the mirror? Sure that’s what happened to Alice – and look at the Adventures she had!

But I’m going to twist this one a bit, in that parallel universe, our character was born – but the past he was born out of a past that included a successful Canadian/British seizure of the President of the United States and the annexation of Washington D.C. and the subsequent Second American Revolution…

You can work out the other details. The question is though, what if he fell in love with a Canadian girl over the summer – and loving her would be considered High Treason?

Image: http://legacy.owensboro.kctcs.edu/mmaltby/his108/Burning%20of%20DC.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Educating the Future of Education

2011-09-18T08:58:00.003-05:00

Education in 21^st Century America (and likely the world, though I can speak only on observing it in Cameroon, Nigeria, Liberia and “Papa Doc” era Haiti); is a hodgepodge of theories, methodologies, beliefs and practices that most people cannot define, let alone understand.

Science fiction, the self-styled “last great literature of ideas” (http://boingboing.net/2008/01/22/science-fiction-a-li.html), has tackled religion, technology, personal freedom, the moral rights of genetic engineering and a thousand other topics. But when it comes to education, SF is strangely pedantic in its assumption that education will ALWAYS be teacher-led (which is the system developed by the Roman Catholic Church in medieval times: “The primary conception of the purpose of education was transmission based. The priests taught the people…”. The education monolith of 21^st Century American teaching and unionism is violently allergic to anything that smacks of Christianity but has totally embraced the methodology and morality of a system developed and promoted by the Church while at the same moment ignoring the roots of the system it endorses and promotes to the exclusion of all else.)

Read virtually any SF novel that includes the education of children, adolescents and adults and you will find children sitting at desks (either real or virtual) with an adult in total power over the “learners” (because on their say-so, the individual being subjected to “education” must perform to the standards laid out by the “teacher” or they will not be granted freedom to think as they want to) learning some sort of rigidly defined curriculum (which is based entirely on the philosophy of whatever controlling group is in power and not on any sort of objective reality).

No variation. No “shifting paradigm”. Nothing NEW, including new ideas.

While starships fly around their heads, aliens communicate advanced technologies (which they learned within an education system that is EXACTLY like ours (despite Robert L. Forward’s DRAGON’S EGG cheela living on the surface of a collapsed star and the Rosans of Marc Stiegler’s “Petals of Rose” living a lifetime in seven Human days)), our kids apparently, are forever doomed to get their education via a transmission based system instituted by the Roman Catholic Church five hundred years ago.

Sheffield’s JUPITER series has kids being educated – the old-fashioned way. So does Brin’s COLONY HIGH. There’s nothing new in Gerrold’s DINGILLIAD stories, either. All of these feature teens being educated in the 21^st, 22^nd Centuries and beyond…in ways their 16^th Century counterparts would have recognized.

Oh, I forgot BF Skinner’s “teaching machines”, “smart pills”, “amnesiac pills” (MEMINI by Daniel Pearlman), and a-som which makes sleeping unnecessary (Paul Di Filippo’s “Shuteye for the Timebroker”). But none of these introduce paradigm shifts in education.

Even the God Emperor of DUNE is educated with methodologies Plato, Rome, Descartes, Locke, Rousseau, Kant, Thorndike, Skinner, Piaget, Vygotsky, Dewey, Montessori, Bruner and Strauch would recognize easily.

Where are the ideas that will shake the foundation of education? Where are the guerilla educators? Where are the startling new ideas? Why do aliens appear to learn exactly the way we do? Are there OTHER ways of learning?

If we are looking to SF to point out some directions to explore, at least at this time, we will be sadly disappointed.

And maybe this will offer a niche for me to fill – if I can figure out how to do it…

image: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DnPwaEn8aGE/S-KjKZtQu0I/AAAAAAAAJdU/7lJJseOzzA8/s1600/amores-perros-pic2.jpg

References:

http://www.stanford.edu/class/ed269/hplintrochapter.pdf (History of learning theory)

“The Massachusetts General Court passed a law requiring every town to create and operate a grammar school. Fines were imposed on parents who did not send their children to school and the government took the power to take children away from their parents and apprentice them to others if government officials decided that the parents were "unfit to have the children educated properly".^[6] (wiki quote, Compulsory Education)

http://mises.org/daily/2226 (History of Compulsory Education)

"Owen was quite insistent that the system not "embrace anything less than the whole people." The effect will be to "regenerate America in one generation. It will make but one class out of the many." Frances Wright revealed the aim of the system starkly, calling on the people to overthrow a moneyed aristocracy and priestly hierarchy. "The present is a war of class." Robert Dale Owen (on the purpose of compulsory education, 1847)

SHORT LONG JOURNEY #30: Late July 14, 1946

2011-09-15T04:00:00.000-05:00

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, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on the bottom.

It was finally dark when Tommy Hastings and Freddie Merrill slipped under the fence that tried to guard Glensheen Mansion from people like them.

It didn’t work because two fourteen-year-old boys shinnied under, sliding down the bank of Tischer Creek, which wound its way along the southern edge of the estate. They followed it, Freddie sliding into the water only once. He started to cuss but Tommy hissed him into silence. “Maybe they got German shepherds for attack dogs from the war!”

After that the only sound that came from Freddie was the occasional squish from his wet shoe and muttered curses.

By the time they reached a narrow road that ran into the estate as well as toward the lake, both boys were crouched low to the ground. They’d both stopped to stare at the side of the mansion across a lawn and into the brightly lit windows.

“They must have more money than th’ Army,” Tommy whisper.

“More’n the President,” Freddie added.

Tommy reached out and tugged Freddie after him, “Come on!” He led him up a slight rise and on to the road.

Freddie pulled back, whispering, “Someone will see us!”

“There’s no one to see us! There’s nobody in there and I don’t hear no dogs barking!” Tommy whispered. Freddie resisted another moment then followed Tommy uphill. A few feet away, Lake Superior lapped against the rounded stones of the beach. On the lake, far in the distance, lights floated magically in the darkness. From the north, a powerful light swept out over the water then lit the shoreline before spilling over the land, flooding everything like day.

Including the boys.

Freddie grabbed Tommy’s hand and dashed forward to the black outline of the boathouse. Two windows glowed with flickering yellow light. He whispered, “There’s people in there! We have to get away!”

“No! This is what we came here for!” said Tommy.

“For people to arrest us for trespassing?” Freddie said, resisting again.

“No! We came to ask people if they knew my mom and dad when they met here.”

“Why would they?”

“This is where the servants met…” Tommy began.

From the night, a voice said, “If you were looking for servants, boys, you came to the right place!”

image: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H_DLFYFco9M/S2sl6RTwJhI/AAAAAAAAAHw/F5-TqjEZ5Fo/s200/Glensheen.JPG

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 29

2011-09-14T17:52:00.003-05:00

H Tropes: mummies/the dead

Current Event: http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2011/07/ideas-on-tuesday-21-yo-mummy.html

I know I did this before – so I’m going to challenge you to take the same idea…and come up with a different story.

Here’s the new set up:

Taniya’s a total “Egyptophile” – IOW, she loves everything Egypt. She’s a ninth grader, doing a History Day project and contacted an Egyptologist working at an excavation of the city built by the Pharaoh Akhenaten, the “unorthodox” Pharaoh of Egypt who promoted the monotheistic religion of Aten. When the Pharaoh – the god’s champion – died, Amarna was abandoned and covered by the sands of Sahara until the 20^th Century.

The Egyptologist sends Taniya a fossilized piece of “cloth” supposed to be from Akhenaten(though that is in doubt, otherwise he wouldn’t be sending it…)’s mummy. Turns out, it was. Turns out that Aten is NOT happy about what happened.

Turns out that Taniya’s little brother – whom she thinks is a brat – is about to get a bit meaner…

Image: http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5124/5222386409_86c0994fed.jpg