WRITING ADVICE: Can This Story Be SAVED? #14 “Old Guitar Man, New Guitar” (Submitted 10 Times Since July 2013, Revised Once)

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing a pro children’s writer and started this blog by sharing (with permission) the advice of several other writers I know). In April of 2014, I figured I’d gotten enough publications that I could share some of the things I did “right”. I’ll keep that up, but I’m running out of pro-published stories. I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it, but someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. Hemingway’s quote above will remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales, but I’m adding this new series of posts because I want to carefully look at what I’ve done WRONG and see if I can fix it. As always, your comments are welcome!

ANALOG Tag Line:

When the instrument is rejuvenated after the player has been, do fond memories disappear?

Elevator Pitch (What Did I Think I Was Trying To Say?):

The time will come when our lives can be extended, perhaps indefinitely. A popular folk singer whose life has been extended faces a choice – get his beat up, memory encrusted guitar rejuvenated or retire in  a blaze of glory.

Opening Line:

“There was a way to retire, but Arnaldo Celis wasn’t sure what it was.”

Onward:

From this point on, I TRY and weave a story of a folk singer who’s contemplating retirement, who lives in a future where climate change has been ameliorated after we have First Contact with aliens who’ve been watching us from the Kuiper Belt for some time – and they are part of a vaster Unity (it ties into a Universe I’ve built but have never had a story published in (except for “Oath” here: http://www.stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com/0130826/0130826-40.html). So there are aliens, high technology, and personal angst. Finally, he meets with his ex-wife who tells him that he KNOWS what to do. So he does. He retires.

What Was I Trying To Say?:

My own 12-string guitar means more to me than I can tell you – though I attempt to in this story – and I honestly think that given the choice of retire or have the guitar rejuvenated, I would probably retire.

The Rest of the Story:

I pretty much laid it out there – though sometimes the background overwhelms the story. One person said that the science is unbelievable…I don’t know HOW that’s possible…it’s SF with several tropes woven together. Interstellar Civilization, life extension, and Recovery of the Wild. I don’t use any ideas that aren’t out there already.

End Analysis:

I don’t know WHY no one likes this story! A good friend of mine and executive editor of the online magazine STUPEFYING STORIES said that in the end, the story was well written but that he felt… “unexcited”. What the heck does THAT mean???? True, it’s subjective. I’ve not recommended stories to him for inclusion in the magazine because they were technically fine but didn’t leave any kind of impression on me. But I can say that for the tens of thousands of stories I’ve read in ASIMOV’S, ANALOG, F&SF, LIGHTSPEED, CLARKESWORLD, and IGMS. In fact the vast majority of stories don’t penetrate my heart. Some do: “The Mountains of Mourning” (Lois McMasters Bujold); “Nexus” (Michael F. Flynn); “A Case of the Stubborns” (Robert Bloch, F&SF, 1976 (!)); a very few others…

I was trying for great here and I’ve met…a brick wall.

Can This Story Be Saved?

I could remove the aliens (though I think THAT’S humorous) or Arnaldo’s gay manager, or his ex-wife, or…I CAN sharpen the focus by removing all of those things. But I think that I wanted the story to be an unremarkable slice-on-life, where someone who lives in a fantastic future ignores all of “that stuff” and is concerned with his own life just as we are here and now. I live in a fantastic future that my grandparents wouldn’t have recognized at all. Even my dad has trouble with the phone and remote looking “so much alike”…

Anyway, I love this story. I’m probably going to take a stab at it again, but I need some feedback. If you’d LIKE to read the story, email me at gstewart75@hotmail.com and I’ll send the MS as is. If not, maybe I’ll have good news about this someday!

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9f/22/3b/9f223b1e57a36e14db3eb13715fbe3f9.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 67

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. All three intelligences hover on the edge of extinction. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society might not only save all three – but become something not even they could predict. Something entirely new...

The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Xiomara; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two, warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.

“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”

“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.”

 “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”

 “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)

“It’s not a ghost,” I said out loud into the warm air of the underground hideout. “It’s a physically constructed life form that only the Kiiote knew about.” To myself, I continued the logic train. The conjure was  not a monster. It was a life form. It was here, waiting to meet us during the most important time in the life of this Triad. The last thing was most disturbing of all: it hadn’t attacked any of us in the Triad.

The conjure had attacked my Great Uncle Rion…and GURion was as artificial as the conjure was. He had been built in a Human form by someone. Why was it preposterous to think that he was a construct of Humanity? Clearly he set the Kiiote being – if it was a “being” at all – off. Was GURion the same thing as the Kiiote things? What did they have against each other?

I was so deaf to the world, that I about jumped out of my skin when Xio spoke from a dark corner of the room, “You ever wonder what we’re involved with?”

“This wasn’t a good time to sneak up on me, Xio!”

“I didn’t sneak.” She came out of the shadows and sat down on one of the chairs facing the fireplace. “I couldn’t sleep, heard someone out here, and came out. I figured anyone would have heard me.”

“I don’t have Kiiote ears.”

“I’m pretty sure a deaf Human would have heard that door open.”

I grunted and shook my head. My heart rate was down again. I slid back to a chair and sat. After a bit, I managed, “I was just wondering that now.”

“Yeah. Everything’s so crazy all of a sudden…but,” she paused and sighed, “This is what we’re supposed to be doing. We have a job and all of a sudden, after the training and learning and jackin’ around, we’ve been called up.”

“Called up to do WHAT?”

Long silence. I thought she might have gone to sleep when she said, “To bring everything together. The Triads were created to form something new…”

“Now you sound like a news report or an advertisement.”

“It’s what we were made to do. None of us is random. We’ve been trained to work together…”

“To do WHAT? What’s this conflict between the conjures and my great uncle…”

I could see her face in the flickering firelight. She was totally confused. “What do they have to do with each other?”

“The conjure didn’t attack anyone in the Triad. It went after GURion.”

“That’s…” she stopped.

“See?”

“So these alien things are like your great uncle – they were both manufactured. I thought your great uncle was made by the Kiiote or the Yown’hoo?”

“I never asked who made him…”

Another voice out of the dark said, “I was made by Humans.” Great Uncle Rion stepped out of the dark. I’d known him since I was a kid, but standing there, in the firelight, and having said what he did after destroying the conjure, he looked way scarier than I’d ever seen him. He didn’t come into the light, saying, “I was created to protect your grandfather’s family. This whole situation – with Earth playing a space-aged Korea – was never meant to be. We were supposed to be neutral, a nursery for both sides until they finished their stupid war and learned to live in peace. That never happened and now we have you and the other Triads. You’re the last gambit; the last hope of peace. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

“Why are people trying to kill us?”

“That seems to be the nature of the universe – hatred…”

I couldn’t help it, I guess Xio couldn’t, either. At the same time we said, “No.”

                                                                                      

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 314

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. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.

Fantasy Trope: Chupacabra http://hannahheath-writer.blogspot.com/2017/01/epic-underused-mythical-creatures-for-fantasy-stories.html

Current Event: http://www.foxnews.com/tech/2011/08/08/chupacabra-found-in-minnesota.html

Mary Olson-Kensington squatted down beside the spot, examining the gravel and asphalt with a large magnifying glass.

“You look like a fool,” said Abbas Farah, “and a living cliché.”

Mary looked up at him and made a face, “Just because something’s cliché doesn’t mean it’s not legitimate.”

Abbas grunted and squatted beside her. “Fine then, what do you see?”

“Residue.”

Abbas spit into the ditch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Without moving the glass, she turned to him. “You think this is a Sherlock Holmes toy?” He leaned back, suddenly wary, nodding slowly. “Like with you, I don’t just see that zit to the left side of your nose you’re trying to hide, I see…not what you’re thinking exactly, or even what you’re feeling…I can see something both more and less…”

“You’re talking like you’re crazy! There’s nothing outside of reality! I’m real, and that dead thing in the road was real, too!”

She nodded then swung the lens back around, looking at the road. “I can see strangeness here. Something natural and unnatural as well.” She looked up at him. “You ever hear about a Chupacabra showed up as roadkill in Mankato about twenty years ago?”

“I couldn’t – I was wasn’t born yet. Neither were you!”

“I know, but Dad told me about it when I was doing a science report on cryptids. It was killed near here.”

“That was twenty years ago! There won’t be anything left of it!”

“Not of its body, but DNA traces can remain, and anything supernatural leaves a resonance echo. That’s what the magnifying glass does. I can see resonances.”

Abbas shrugged, “How’s that help?”

“We need a Chupacabra on our side!”

“This one was dead! How’s that…”

“Where’s there one, there will be another. We need a Chupacabra.”

“What’s so important about them? They’re just one more weird animal…”

“Chupacabras have the ability to…sniff out? That’s a good way to describe it…the animals have a gift for sniffing out inter-dimensional portals.”

“And the importance of that to you?”

“I’m going to jump this dimension to do some research in a parallel line.”

“What are you planning…”

“Here it is!”

Names: ♀ Minnesota ; ♂ Somalia  

Image: http://www.skyscrapernews.com/images/pics/6255CaernarfonCastle_pic1.jpg

Slice of PIE: Habitable Worlds for WHO?

Using the Program of the North American Science Fiction Convention in Puerto Rico in July of 2017 to which I will MIGHT go someday if I recognized any of the names on the guest list… to go, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the program. This is event #. The link is provided below…

Habitable Worlds: This is one-hour presentation from Arecibo astronomer Abel Mendez on astronomers' current search and understanding of potentially habitable planets. The presentation also includes the biological context to understand the possibility of extraterrestrial life in the Solar System and extrasolar planets. (bilingual)

I’ve been teaching a class for gifted and talented children for the past 20 years called ALIEN WORLDS. It’s a popular class. I teach it twice each summer and also frequently teach the class at an annual conference for the parents of GT kids. It became such a big draw, that I had to add another class called ADVANCED ALIEN WORLDS.

I used to let the students, who range in age from nine to thirteen, just choose an imaginary star with an imaginary star system. Of course, I started the class in 1997…since that time, we have grown the Open Exoplanet Catalog (http://www.openexoplanetcatalogue.com/) from nonexistent to containing 3468 confirmed exoplanets and they have to pick the star system they’re going to “grow” from those. In fact, the Catalog has become so much a part of our culture that the spellchecker on this laptop accepts it as a word – and I didn’t have to add it as I did in the past.

The discovery of new star systems makes it into the news regularly with the most recent splash being the Trappist System (40 light years away): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TRAPPIST-1, as well as the biggest splash before that, Kepler-60 (2500 light years away) (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kepler-90), and the “first” among the splashes, Kepler 186 (500 light years away) with its Earth-sized planet (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kepler-186), and Gliese 876 (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gliese_876).

I started teaching the class using a book called HABITABLE PLANETS FOR MAN (http://www.rand.org/content/dam/rand/pubs/commercial_books/2007/RAND_CB179-1.pdf) and still use several graphs from it to this day in my Power Point lecture.

I begin this class with a discussion in which I ask the question, “How many of you actually believe in aliens?”

The kids are somewhere between enthusiastically waving their hands in the air and scowling at me. I usually smile and backtrack and say, “OK – how about this. Raise your hand if you believe,” (I flash an image of Gram-stained bacteria), “that there is microscopic life ‘out there’ that didn’t originate on Earth?”

They’re much more confident when they raise their hands now. I flash the next image, the bizarre Hydnora africana and ask if they believe that there might be alien plants. Most of the them are fine with that. When I get to animal life, I flash an image of the star nosed mole. They laugh, but are a bit less certain. Finally, I show a full Gray, bulging eyes and bulbous head and all, no UFO present, but might as well be one in the background. By then, half of the students have dropped their hands. It’s a lot of big leaps to go from alien bacteria to intelligent alien life. Then I ask them if we have found real, certifiable evidence.

One or two might mention the fossilized “Martian bacteria”, but I point out that the consensus that it’s the result of chemical reactions and not the remains of life is pretty solid in the scientific community (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allan_Hills_84001). So…other than reports of alien abductions (which always gets a good giggle from these critical thinkers), I tender to them that there is NO EVIDENCE of life off of Earth.

“What about water under the ice of Europa?” one of the kids offers. I nod, then point out that unlike Minnesota, where a cold winter may cause the ice to reach four or five meters thick, the ice on Europa is estimated to be between 75 and 100 KILOMETERS thick. They can’t take their ice augers and drill through the surface of Jupiter’s moon!

Now don’t get me wrong, I badly want to see evidence of aliens, but as a science teacher, I teach FACTS. Speculation is fine for messing around with, but when you talk FACTS, you’re talking SCIENCE. So, when we talk about habitable planets, we have to be careful – we’re talking habitable planets for us, not the homeworld of the Klingons (Omega Leonis (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omega_Leonis, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klingon) or the Eclipsing Binary home star (Eclipsing Binary Star M31V J00442326+4127082) of the Xandar Empire in the Andromeda Galaxy.

Aliens, despite Jody Foster’s (often misattributed to Carl Sagan) protestation to the contrary that “If we are alone in the Universe, it sure seems like an awful waste of space”; are not proven by making loud proclamations that space would be a waste if we were all that there is. The statement doesn’t produce any evidence that we are not the only technological civilization in the known universe. In fact, the evidence indicates that we are the only technological civilization. Sagan hedges his bets by stating in a COSMOS episode that the nearest technological civilization is possibly two hundred light years away, but more likely 1000 light years away. There is no way for him to be wrong in any sense of the word because the potential for gathering evidence either for or against his proclamation is miniscule. So, he opts for inspiring without having to make the sacrifices necessary to see his words through to the end; unlike president Kennedy, who put American dollars where NASA could use them in order to send Humans to the Moon the first time.

The industry, economics, and pure cash built around our profound belief in the existence of intelligent alien life (https://www.inverse.com/article/25908-hunt-for-aliens-grassroots-movement-funded-by-billionaires) surpasses the net worth of the planet’s religious institutions. (Wealthiest organizations, religions:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wealth_and_religion) vs net earnings from extraterrestrial (invasion ONLY) movies(http://www.boxofficemojo.com/genres/chart/?id=scifialieninvasion.htm). To put it into cash numbers: Religions approximately $1 trillion = Alien (invasion only, since 1985) $5.8 trillion dollars

So…there you go.

Program Book: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B0eoR-X3dfkPREtLS25VUjRyMEk/view

Image: https://68.media.tumblr.com/d740caf10011fae3eb89c340a2c0ad31/tumblr_oixik2Srjt1w0f40yo1_500.gif

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 106 : DaneelAH & Company In Burroughs

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters and I’m sorry, but a number of them got deleted from the blog – go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. They are HanAH, the security expert (m); DaneelAH, xenoarchaeologist (m); AzAH, language expert (f); MishAH, pattern recognition (f).

“You always crouch when you think someone’s watching you,” said MishAH.

“I do not!” HanAH exclaimed.

“Yes, you do,” said AzAH and DaneelAH together. DaneelAH added, “But only when you’re around us. In your usual Mayoral capacity, you don’t hunch.” He paused, “Not so that anyone who doesn’t know you as well as we do would notice.”

“So, what’s making you hunch?” said MishAH.

A young blue boy appeared out of the crowd, looked up at DaneelAH and said, “You’re new here, aren’t you?

For a moment, none of them spoke. Finally HanAH lifted his chin and said, “Shows what you know.” He looked down at the boy and said, “We are. Who are you?”

“A resident. Long time.”

“You’re an inti just like us…”

“I’m not just like you. I work for someone who doesn’t consider me a slave.”

MishAH scowled, “No one but a natural born can do that – but there are forms in fifteen different files required to be completed before the manumission process can even begin.”

The boy waved her away. “I live on the Rim. No one cares about ework there. I work with my…” he used the extremely vulgar term for natural born Humans.

MishAH slapped him in the face and he staggered backward, right into AzAH’s bone-crushing grip. She might be a linguist, but she’d also been the Mixed Martial Arts champion four years running in Malacandra. She squeezed his neck and leaned forward, whispering, “We respect Humans of all kinds in our little group.”

The boy managed to tap out as he rasped, “OK! OK! I got it.”

She released him into HanAH’s tender embrace – a solid grip on the boy’s upper arm. “Are you an agent of Paolo Marcillon?”

“Who?”

“Paolo – an underground Christian agitator who’s wanted for sedition and terrorism.”

“No! I ain’t heard a  no Polo! I work with the Rim Preacher!”

DaneelAH stepped up, gesturing HanAH to release the boy. Squatting down, he took the boy by both shoulders and said, “Your master…former master!” he said when the boy’s shoulders tensed. He loosened his grip. “Your former master is a Christian?”

The boy twisted free and DaneelAH let him go. HanAH and MishAH were close by. The boy glanced at them then shook his torso. “I guess, ‘cept I don’t know what that means. Zactly.”

"What's your friend's name?" DaneelAH asked.

"Stepan." He scowled at them and when no one moved, he added, "He's got an old warehouse on the Rim he gonna cover with dirt and grow plants and stuff to help feed us."

"You said he was a Christian. How would you know that?"

The boy shrugged. "He said something about it."

"Doesn't he know that being a Christian is illegal on Mars?"

The boy shrugged again, "Lotsa stuff's illegal that people do. Like experiment on our kind." He looked up significantly at MishAH and AzAH. They both twitched.

"Not every natural born is bad," DaneelAH muttered.

"Yeah. Stepan ain't. He's just sorta like a babe out where I live. But he do have connections in the HOD."

"The HOD?" HanAH said.

"Yeah -- Home Owner's District. We were there 'cause he had to meet with some old guy." He shrugged. "That was weird. They chased him out 'cause he wasn't someone they expected him to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"When we were there, they kept calling him Natan Wallach."

The vat mates looked to each other, then down at the boy, stunned. DaneelAH finally managed, "Can you take us to him?"

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 313

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

SF Trope: Bird Aliens

http://scienceblogs.com/tetrapodzoology/2009/11/11/richard-dawkins-smart-dinosaurs/

Current Event: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2017/07/ravens-problem-solving-smart-birds/

The day the Hrafn came to Earth, Kaeli Waang and Bjorki Veniti stood beside their rack of Ravens, nervously rocking from foot to foot. Larry, Mo, and Curly -- they hadn't named them, the Amplified Avian Hatchery named them – were doing the same.

The Hrafn had arrived in Earth space a month ago and spent that time sending detailed directions, images, and itinerary before their expected landing. The fact that they had chosen the ten intersection points of what were called Ley Lines had sent the entire looney community into ecstatic mutterings. Kaeli leaned to Bjorki and whispered, "You ever notice that the word 'looney' refers to birds?" The fact that the Hrafn looked like somewhat creepy, humanoid crows made the reference humorous...

He whispered back, Did you ever notice that the word 'hysterical' is related to 'hysterectomy'..." He puffed an “oof!” when she elbowed him.

Thin clouds over Mount Kailash, Tibet began to glow orange. Bjorki cupped the bud in his left ear and said, “The Hrafn are descending. All ten ships are at the same altitude, but we’re going to make contact first because where we are.” They’d spent the past three weeks acclimating so that they’d be ready to talk to the aliens.

Larry said, “I’m so excited to meet my interstellar cousins!” Though he didn’t exactly speak standard English and someone who hadn’t worked with him since his hatching would have heard, “Emmm sss essst-t-t-eh t-t-t mmmeeeeet-t-t mmm emmmt-t-tssst-t-therrr kkksssmmmsss.” This would have been repeated at least three times because Larry was embarrassed that he couldn’t speak clear English and wanted to make sure that anyone listening would know he was working hard to overcome his handicap.

Curly reached around Mo to take a poke at Larry’s head. He missed and almost fell off the bar.

Bjorki grabbed Curly’s tail and Kaeli intercepted the peck by slapping Curly’s head down. Anyone watching them would have realized exactly how apropos their names were. None of the five of them noticed that the Hrafn ship stopped descending a meter from the stone, snowy point of the “Unclimbed Mountain”.

“How are they going to step out anywhere? There’s no flat ground until we get back down,” Bjorki said. The two halves of the ship suddenly separated. At least three hundred meters across, the split happened silently. A silvery shimmer appeared below the split, extending two meters out from the ship, almost as if they were projecting a porch. A section faded out of existence, gradually revealing a pair of two-meter-tall shadows…

Names: ♀(England, Aboriginal Australian); ♂ (Iceland, Italy)

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e0/4f/1f/e04f1fcfbe10dcb8519d6d9ae756b509--alien-creatures-fantasy-creatures.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: We Can’t Even IMAGINE A Different Way of Governing Ourselves…So What’s “Next”?

Using the Program of the North American Science Fiction Convention in Puerto Rico in July of 2017 to which I will MIGHT go someday if I recognized any of the names on the guest list… to go, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the program. The link is provided below…

FRIDAY 2:00 PM - San Cristobal The Future of Local/National/Planetary Government in the Information Age: Our current government structures arose in the age of face-to-face communication. With individuals able to "talk" instantly to people anywhere on the globe and governments able to share information effortlessly, does either representative to geographically defined government fit the emerging paradigm? How long before things change. Or will they?

Chris Gerrib: Author of 3 books that take place on Mars.

W. A. (Bill) Thomasson: Professional medical writer assisting researchers with journal articles and grant applications.

David Manfre: Attended Bouchercon and Deadly Ink numerous times, degree in English, working on stories.

Tanya Washburn: Studied archaeology and history, graduate of Harvard Extension School and helps to coordinate ARISIA “New England's Largest, Most Diverse Sci-Fi & Fantasy Convention”.

Pablo Vazquez: Revolutionary scholar, Voodoo Loa at night, half of mime group, Mr. Saturday & Sixpence, San Antonio Neo-Victorian Association and AetherFest chair.

We tend to assume governments will stay the same. I think this is one reason our world is currently in an uproar: governments have changed. The previous ideology no longer holds sway, another ideology has taken over and (as happens whenever ideologies shift), the side out of control protests, fully expecting that their protests will alter either the timeline, the vote count, or everything that surrounds the current regime so that they may comfortably go back to doing Things The Way They Should Be Done.

Yet, as speculative fiction writers who fiddle with time, timelines, characters, and sexuality (we’ve been fiddling with THAT since Harlan Ellison introduced DANGEROUS VISIONS in 1967), as a group we seem awfully…mono-political…

For some reason, our heroes (rarely our heroines) seem to be tilting consistently at windmills that more-or-less conform to the more-or-less accepted POV one finds in the specfic community, which itself seems split between liberal/libertarian and conservative; though the liberal/libertarian seems to have the loudest voice and so calls many of the shots.

Be that as it may, governments in speculative fiction seem to follow historical patterns rather than striking out in new directions. For example, Ada Palmer, a “new” writer whose books have made a splash in recent years, has built a society in her Terra Ignota (for those of you who might not have taken a moment to Google the meaning, it’s the Unknown Ground (or more likely Unknown Earth) series.) I’ve read it and while I thoroughly enjoyed her world-building, I’m slightly disappointed that the society of the first book resembled Roman society at its apex (before it became an empire), writ a thousand times larger to encompass the entire planet – a broadly inclusionary place, vital, striving forward, artistic, multi-theistic, and powerful. Her governmental form was foreshadowed here: https://www.wired.com/2007/08/creating-a-worl/ in 2007…

I also just finished Kameron Hurley’s THE STARS ARE LEGION and while there doesn’t seem to be any precise government over all the worlds (which seems to me to have been necessary in order to create the original Legion), the petty  governments that have shattered into existence within each of three worldships: Katazyrna, Mokshi, and Bhavaja are the same as we already have on Earth.

As a born-and-bred American, I am of the opinion that a representational form of government (which most people call a “democratic” government) is the best form. However, I’ve never intimately experienced any other form. I was in Nigeria in the 1980s when their representational government was forcibly morphed into a military junta. I spent several months in Cameroon (or Cameroun) which has “enjoyed” the long reign of an educated and “benevolent” dictator, and I lived for six weeks under the rule of an elite party whose sole qualifications were descent from freed American slaves.

Of course I’ve visited parliamentary Canada, token monarchy England, and post Baby Doc Haiti; I either didn’t notice any visible difference between “them” and “us” or the difference was grim indeed.

So let’s see: republic, military junta, benevolent dictatorship, elite republic, parliamentary, token monarchy, and undeclared chaos. How many others are there?

According to Wikipedia: nine, plus a smattering of others which don’t fit any of the categories presented (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forms_of_government#Maps). The maps also break the world into Full Democracy, Flawed Democracy, Hybrid Regimes, and Authoritarian Regimes. (While three of the categories are descriptive, one (into which the United States falls) is judgmental…hmmm. I wonder who decided to use the word “Flawed” and what PRECISELY it denotes: ah, here we go – “The Democracy Index is an index compiled by the UK-based Economist Intelligence Unit that measures the state of democracy in 167 countries…” In a very strange turn of events, the UK is a Full Democracy (as well as Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Ireland), while the US, India, Japan, South Korea, and whoever else the British don’t like are on the Flawed Democracy list. As a side note to Islamophilia, currently all the rage on the world stage, I’d like to note that of the 167 nation states, 24 are classified as Muslim. Of those 24, none of them are Full Democracies, four are Flawed Democracies, seven are Hybrid governments, twelve (half) of them are Authoritarian, and one is Somalia – designation unknown (though Warlords springs to mind).

At any rate – have speculative fiction writers come up with truly innovative forms of government?

Frank Herbert created a religious capitalist imperial state.

Ann Leckie (whose Imperial Radch books I LOVE) created an empire.

John Scalzi created the Colonial Union, a sort of “uber” England/Portugal/Spain/Russia imperialist form of government which forced the aliens of the universe to unite in opposition.

Anne McCaffrey’s Pern has a unique cross between a monarchy and full democracy.

I’m not going to touch fantasies here because the governments of the majority of the ones I’ve read seem to fall into monarchies, empires, or Councils. I don’t recall a fantasy story where people voted for anything or anyone. I could be wrong here, so please feel free to correct me.

 So – where are the wildly futuristic governments? How many have shown a truly participatory democracy? Would such a thing even be possible – not from a technological point of view, but from a practical point of view. So many of the daily or weekly decisions governmental officials make would bore me and the rest of the country silly – that’s why we have a representational government. I hire someone to do that. But if liberals are to be believed, then there’s been a gross miscarriage of the Will Of The People and Trump is not REALLY the choice of The People Who Actually Matter (people who live in cities, because who cares about farmers anyway? Certainly not the DFL…which, I might point out, has the word Farmer embedded in it.) But that is mostly there, and I’m writing here.

So, I think the question and answer, “How long before things change? Or will they?” can be answered: things won’t change. This is mostly because the people who pride themselves in being imaginative and seeing the future haven’t come up with any really different form of government.

If we can’t imagine it, I doubt very much that the proletariat will devise something new and different and produce the paradigm shift we think we need.

Anyone disagree?

References: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muslim_world, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forms_of_government#Maps, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democracy_Index,

Program Book: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B0eoR-X3dfkPREtLS25VUjRyMEk/view

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/38/68/a7/3868a7460eacddf9b0a006fd3dfea016--world-government-stephen-hawking.jpg (and Stephen Hawking OBVIOUSLY knows all, sees all, and is all!)

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 66

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. All three intelligences hover on the edge of extinction. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society might not only save all three – but become something not even they could predict. Something entirely new...

The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Xiomara; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two, warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.

“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”

“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.”

 “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”

 “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)

After he finished his tirade – it was a tirade for Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (ret), anyway – he said, “On the shoulders of this Triad more than either of the others…”

I was sure he was going to say something like, “Rests the future of Humanity.” Or something inspiring like that.

But he concluded, “The burden of learning your roles in this hideous world we’ve left for you.” Shaking his head, he said, “Get some sleep. We’ll leave when everyone wakes refreshed and we’ve eaten.” He left us in the room, still sitting. One-by-one; two-by-two; or as a herd, we went to our rooms to await the morning.

I was too tired to sleep and couldn’t forget the conjure either. To be able to create life, even weirdly twisted life, gave the Kiiote, and by implication my best friend, Fax, a completely different image in my head. I knew it shouldn’t, but…man! How had they done something like this? How could they have done it – supposedly accidentally? Making life was supposed to be done intentionally – and how had one of the things gotten here to lay in wait for them? Had there been locks on the place and if there had, how’d it get in?

Now I was too wound up to fall asleep at all and I laid, staring at the ceiling for a long time before I finally sat up. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I got up as quiet as I could and slipped into the main room. No one else was there and the chair Retired was sitting in was empty. I sat down, wishing I could somehow light the fireplace standing across from me.

It lit.

Startled, I leaned away from it until I felt the even heat. It took the cold, mustiness out of the air almost immediately. There was no smell at all, so I figured it was some sort of Yown’Hoo or Kiiote technology, maybe nanotech or even…I slid to my knees and crawled on them across the room, holding out my hand.

I snatched it back when the air shimmered near the fireplace and an image appeared. The face of a conjure. It vanished a moment later and I was left sitting on my butt. Qap had said that the things who looked like the Panthera genus of Earth life except that they stood upright, had a language, were made of something called “coherent matter” and had been accidentally let loose on Earth, made by the Kii who were incidentally terrified of them. Add to that the curious fact that my great uncle Rion was equipped to disintegrate them. Oh, and Qap, Pack Leader, had said, “These are the demons of a shameful past, we believe they are sent to torture our minds.” He paused a long time before he said, “We had no idea they had come to Earth. We have poisoned your world with these demons…”

Now one had appeared to me in the fire. “It’s not a ghost,” I said out loud into the warm air of our hideout. “It’s a physically constructed life form that only the Kiiote knew about. It’s not a monster. It’s a life form. It was here, waiting to meet us during the most important time in the life of this Triad. The last thing was most disturbing of all: it hadn’t attacked any of us in the Triad.

It had attacked my Great Uncle Rion…

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 312

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.

I started doing IDEAS ON TUESDAY in February of 2011. This was the eighth idea I posted – the first seven aren’t part of any document anywhere, they’re just “here” on the blog. I’ve been going back and poking around in my past, wondering what motivated me “then” and what motivates me “now”.

Some of you may know that I spent eight months in Africa as the guest of the Nigerian, Cameroonian, and Liberian Lutheran Churches. If people aren’t impressed with my time there as a tool of the Church, they’re appalled by my white supremacist intention of crushing African traditions beneath my white supremacist assumptions of Africans who needed to be saved from savagery…

Both responses make me feel ill and neither one grants the people of the Continent any power of self-determination – and are equally white supreme-ist.

OK – rant over. (I’m sure this little essay may possibly irritate some people…) So, I recently read THE BETRAYAL OF AFRICA (for a brief review, go here:  (http://www.africafiles.org/article.asp?ID=17923)

Follow this with an apparent non-sequitur: a few years ago, I read and recommended for an ANDRE NORTON Award, Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu’s second book, THE SHADOW SPEAKER (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Shadow_Speaker). If you’ve never read it, do.

Once you’ve done that, try and build a story on this foundation: a Library to rival the one at Alexandria is nearly done in the center of the Sahara in the Erg of Bilmah – and the dark forces of America: Jersey Devils, Yuma Skeletons, Wampus Cats, Bigfeet, Headless Horsemen, Mosquitoes, Trickster Coyotes, Maids in the Mist and Pecos Bill and his legions take on the legends of the Sahara: mummies, scorpions, Desert Rattlers, raging sandstorms, desert wolves and tigers…who wins and how…

I started a series of stories using this idea, though I left out the “monster” parts and made is purely science fiction, I think it has possibilities. I’m going to post it in my WORK AND WORKSHEETS section soon. I’ll add the link here when I do.

Until then, do with this what you would!

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-arXKTiwzTybeiZ-IjR8P9j_aP2vqKXJulRCqqk_e42EoyXriDrQffp-dV_b96wQqLf5Y-M9XYpYkS4Lpz0PJvQcjGfHXS3M8QSPWCq9l9UURqlah0AR2TAlNeS4yX_NR2arOLIZVuY/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: From THE ODYSSEY to THE STARS ARE LEGION – Right Through My Life…

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, Lin Oliver speak at a convention hosted by the Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Since then, I have shared (with their permission) and applied the writing wisdom of Lin Oliver, Jack McDevitt, Nathan Bransford, Mike Duran, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, SL Veihl, Bruce Bethke, and Julie Czerneda. Together they write in genres broad and deep, and have acted as agents, editors, publishers, columnists, and teachers. Since then, I figured I’ve got enough publications now that I can share some of the things I did “right”.

While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do all of the professional writers above...someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. When I started this blog, that was NOT true, so I may have reached a point where my own advice is reasonably good. We shall see! Hemingway’s quote above will now remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales! As always, your comments are welcome!

The thoughts for this essay sprang up a few days ago when I was installing insulation batting with my son-in-law.

We’re doing some summer remodeling and in order to increase the amount of time we can use our three-season porch, we needed to insulate the ceiling. I was going to do it to save money, for the experience, and because the area I was going to do was comparatively small – fourteen feet by ten feet. Only eight joists wide, it would only take two and a half bats per joist.

Easy, right? Made easier when my son-in-law volunteered to help me on the 4^th of July while his wife worked. Nothing else to do, right?

Wrong on both counts.

The job was hideous as the temperature in the attic was somewhere near 120 degrees F. It was also filthy, the ceiling was low, and the only way to work was on our knees. We put the bats in in stages, one row at a time with a water/breathing/survival break between each stage.

It was horrible.

I felt closer to my son-in-law when it was done. I couldn’t have done it without him and the shared HORROR of the experience was a shared slice of life.

Segue: I’m reading Kameron Hurley’s new book, THE STARS ARE LEGION. Nearly done, actually, and it has lived up with its cover blurbs. Hurley’s previous blockbuster novels have all been fantasies and while I haven’t read them yet, my guess is that while they may be a new twist, all of them will be an “old story”. Most of us writers know that according to conventional wisdom, there are only between one and 20 “master” plots in existence. There are thousands of books on Amazon for use in plotting your stories, and all of them have their proponents.

But upon reflection, it seems that no matter WHAT the plot is, you have a cast of characters who are out to do something. That something can range from defeating The Dark Lord to catching a husband/wife. It can be as profound as making dying teens’ last days on Earth joyful, to a frivolous romp to find a lost dog…

All of them though have their cast of characters pass through Dark Moments and emerge on the other side more closely knit. Reading Hurley’s book, I expected a powerful science fiction story – and I got that. But at its heart, THE STARS ARE LEGION is a quest novel, no different structurally than THE HOBBIT or Homer’s ODYSSEY and there is nothing wrong with that.

 In fact, that’s good because I can relate. I’ve certainly not embarked on a ten year voyage home; but I have passed through trial, tribulation, and insulating a really nasty attic with my son-in-law and while the intensity of the feeling may be different (or it may not), the feeling is the same. As I’ve read Hurley’s novel, her characters are changing in the same way – linking a contemporary story of a vastly different future to a classic story of a vastly different past and passing through my very real present.

What more can I ask for in writing or life?

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9f/22/3b/9f223b1e57a36e14db3eb13715fbe3f9.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 105: Paolo At Burroughs Dome

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

The blue man, OrcAH, curator of the small museum, nodded slowly, making a subtle gesture with his left index finger. “I will give it some more thought. Where might I find you?”

Paolo said, “Around,” pausing, he added, “But don’t wait too long, I’ll be leaving soon.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as I figure out who betrayed me and confront them.” He turned and walked out of the museum. He expected to be grabbed by the Dome police or a band of rogue Artificial Human. When neither appeared immediately, he started back down the corridor leading to Burroughs Grand Plaza.

It didn’t take long to get there and he’d been to it a number of times – but the sheer scale and audacity of the place still boggled his mind. Twice the size of the Aeropagus on which is was modeled in Robinson, it was ostentatious in a way that might have been ugly, but was instead, overwhelming. He smiled when he realized that Burroughs bred audacity. OrcAH was no different in that than the Mayor of Burroughs, who styled herself  Citizen Council Director Haman. While she headed The District Council of fifteen men, women and genneuts, she pretended to a representative government, but her real powers were the same as every other Mayor: absolute.

Burroughs also renamed their floating rock the Court of Eleusinian Mysteries. Pretentious, but appropriate, Paolo thought. Wildly different smells roared around him: baking bread, aromatic woods burning, flowers, rotten melons of every variety, machine oil, and fried bread grease. The noise pummeled his ears after the silence of his hike from the rover: at least six languages, transuranic rock music, and a brass band thundering louder than ever in counterpoint to a literal thunder of air moving in an immense space.

The city founders had carved an immense disk of sandstone from the surface of Mars, polished, sealed it and kept it floating a meter off the ground with an antigrav field. A school cluster of children boiled like chattering steam after an Artificial Human child-minder which said as it passed him, “…stop young learners, will be the sewage reclamation plant…”. Multiple groans followed after them.

Still on the wide avenue that circled the Court, Paulo slipped through the crowds, making for the disk where it floated over a hectare of space. He stopped to stare at it and around the edge of the giant park. A massive Earth Redwood spread its branches over the stone of the Court. The landscape was dry, mimicking the habitat of the massive tree. Scattered over it were gold sand concrete benches, chairs, patches of Earth cacti and countless fat blue pillows. Men, women, children, robots, androids and holograms reclined, talked, argued, sang and gestured widely. He took a deep breath.

As in Robinson, the church, synagogue, Buddhist temple, the Rationalist Forum and other religious shrines and places were closed. As always, the softly glowing mural with the subdued humaniform logo of the Unified Faith in Humanity stood in benign ascendance over the scene. Paulo blew out a breath. There were still enough underground believers – both on Earth and Mars – to equip a small army. But there would be no war. That would only make things worse. Unlike before, he was working alone and desperately needed a connection to the Christian underground here. This time, he risked his life. Burroughs was NOT Robinson. Burroughs had thrown dissidents out the airlocks and called it “cleansing”. They still did it on occasion.

He needed to get to Cydonia and his marsbug was not doing well. He needed people who would both support him and pray for him.

He walked up the steps, kept going until he found an open bench and sat, his heart pounding. He held his breath as people noticed and those who might want to hear what he had to say stepped toward him. When he had a polite crowd, he waved to the mural and said, “People of Burroughs Dome, I can see you’re a spiritual people.”

There were nods. An elderly woman approached, flanked by a young woman. She sat in a grav chair, nodded to him and smiled as her chair settled. Encouraged, Paulo said, “I know, from traveling over Mars that no one else produces as much carbon and organic plastic as you do. I’ve heard that innovation is encouraged here in a way that it’s not encouraged anywhere else. Last of all, I know the you stick tight together in just about every way.” He held his breath then plunged ahead, “That’s why I was surprised when I heard that you so strongly support the Unified Faith in Humanity.” Grumbling mutters in those gathered. The old woman frowned faintly. He pursed his lips, then added, “Even to the point of removing those who have diverse and contrary views.”

“Why it surprises me is that in order to get everything to work so well here, you have to have met the challenges face-to-face. You had to understand the nature of Humanity better than anyone else in order to get people to work together so well. You had to know more about people than they knew about themselves.” Surprised silence. Every eye on him, focused and listening right now as he said, “That’s why I have no doubt that you understand that Humanity is made up of more than just the body, mind and heart. It has a soul that belongs to something outside of itself.” He had their attention – even that of a group of young adults who had been playing cricket not far away. They’d left their game to listen. “I’m here to say that the soul belongs to the Water God – who, like a pot of snow on a hot stove is solid, liquid and gas yet water all the same, the God of Heaven is Father forever, Son crucified and alive again and Spirit of unimaginable power yet all the same. That’s who we belong to.” There was laughter, angry mutters and words that sounded like “slavery” and “haters” and “terrorists”. Rather than shouting over them though, Paulo’s voice lowered as he said, “God wants us to turn away from evil and come to Him.” He stood abruptly, ending his session.

People drifted away, but some stayed. A man with two children approached him and lowering his voice said, “Get moving, young man. Some have gone to fetch the mind police.” He snorted softly. “You know, even your Christian forebears had friends in high places who believed that people should be able to choose for themselves what they believe. Some of them never became Christians themselves.” He turned and hurried away.

Farther on, another man watched, lifting his arm, first two fingers together, pointing up; the other three clenched to the palm. Paolo dipped his chin and set off across the floating platform.

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kB5wP5o5VuzbhQVDthrqJohh8uL52IGDt84n3dGhkCI-t4RMfYH8kx-KjMU4CpHSKfJBCYAuX3Vx2BD_SMD5j06A-Tm_tz_6b29Ohv5Dkl5xtNoaecKLHOMkCWDbP_RrQZrjnatLx0A/s1600/Astronauta+Marcos+C%C3%A9sar+Pontes.bmp