POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Circular Time Travel

Using the Program Guide of the World Science Fiction Convention in Dublin, Ireland in August 2019 (to which I will be unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. The link is provided below where this appeared Saturday, August 17, at 10 am…

Revolutions In an Era of Advanced Technology

How do revolutions (e.g. overthrowing government) occur in an era of advanced technologies? Are orderly regime changes jeopardized with growing asymmetries in weaponry, surveillance, and political power? Are current political processes up to the challenge?

Kathleen Hunt: lawyer, fan of fantasy & science fiction, instructor.

Marguerite Kenner: editor at Cast of Wonders, Escape Artists, lecturer, lawyer

Maria Farrell: Writer, taught politics and policy on Oxford University, appeared as technology policy expert on NBC, BBC

Klaus Æ. Mogensen: futurist, science writer, fiction writer, magazine editor, Institute for Futures Studies

Catherynne Valente: bestselling author of fantasy and science fiction for both adults and children

I’m going to start out by saying that at the end of May in the opening of the second decade of the 21^st Century, I am a lifelong resident of Minneapolis and its northern suburbs. I was born in and lived my first five years in the core of the city, not far from where the city’s heart is currently being torn out by civil unrest sparked by the concatenation of fifty years of unchanged history of police brutality – perpetrated by a few, but responsible for all – institutionalized poverty; 20% unemployment; COVID-19; public servants (aka politicians) openly antagonistic to each other, dismissive of ideas and accomplishments of those with other viewpoints; authority tolerant of abuse within and outside its ranks; violently polarized population, dismissive of ideas and accomplishments of those with other viewpoints; and violently polarized nations…

Worse than all of these is déjà vu (Definition: "...the feeling that one has lived through the present situation before. The phrase translates literally as 'already seen'".) 

In my city, an eerily similar event occurred fifty-three years ago in 1967. Nearly sixty years ago, when Congress passed the Civil Rights Act as an amendment of the Fourteenth Amendment, when the advancement of technology has leaped ahead, the advancement of politics and race have been at a virtual standstill.

Sixty years ago, the height of technology included the typewriter as we know it (for those of you who have no idea what this is, it’s like a keyboard that makes noise); and the very FIRST: laser (iow, the thing that makes your DVD player play); robot (not as smart as your Roomba); satellite that passed phone messages (I don’t even know what to say here); GPS (that thing you use to find the nearest open Perkins); computer game (for young people <30, that’s a nonsense statement); email (see previous parentheses); color TV (see previous two sets of parentheses); and ATM (though this has become a vanishing technology)…

We live in a future where transplanting organs is boring, straightening teeth is invisible, paper books are serially obsolete, Encyclopedia Britannica ceased paper publication a decade ago and is entirely online, a crewed space station that has been in orbit for 22 years goes completely without remark most of the time, and news is instantaneous, riotous, and rarely verifiable as fake news is easy to create and facts have more to do with consensus than occurrence.

While men, women, and children battle the authorities (not only police, but the politicians of all parties, who support the police implicitly or tacitly, and are entirely incapable of altering the paradigm of brutality), the largest nation on the planet has removed the civil rights of a city it promised it would never do and every religion on Earth is persecuted somewhere (including atheism). Little has changed and racism is still rampant, not just in my city, but on Earth: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Racism_by_country

While racism is in the spotlight, it has always existed; now that it’s close to my home (literally; closer to my foster daughter’s home and the homes of colleagues…) it invokes despair and discouragement.

Were Martin Luther King, Jr. (Why does NO ONE note that “…[when] [Rev. Michael King, Sr.] returned home (The trip [to Germany] ended with visits to sites in Berlin associated with the Protestant reformation leader, Martin Luther.[20] While there, Michael King Sr. witnessed the rise of Nazism.[20]  in August 1934, and in that same year began referring to himself as Martin Luther King Sr., and his son as Martin Luther King Jr.[20][22][17] King's birth certificate was altered to read ‘Martin Luther King Jr.’ on July 23, 1957, when he was 28 years old.[23][20][21]”? Were Martin Luther King, Jr to step out of a time machine on Lake Street in South Minneapolis at this moment, he would be unable to tell that he’d leaped forward in time a half century into the future.

He would probably weep, then join the protesters.

Revolution requires great PEOPLE, not advances in technology. With great people, great minds, and great leadership, real change might be affected. Ultimately, revolution will not happen because of “advanced technology”; rather revolution will happen because of advanced PEOPLE…and by that I do not mean “the singularity” will POOF! make everything all right. In fact, I don’t think “the singularity” will even happen, certainly not the way its proponents expect it to happen (as far as I can tell, most proponents appear to think that they’ll be excluded from this paradigm shift because they’re such forward thinkers and stupid people like me will be done away with…

The Singularity is "a hypothetical point in time at which technological growth becomes uncontrollable and irreversible, resulting in unforeseeable changes to human civilization. According to the most popular version of the singularity hypothesis, called intelligence explosion, an upgradable intelligent agent will eventually enter a 'runaway reaction' of self-improvement cycles, with each new and more intelligent generation appearing more and more rapidly, causing an 'explosion' in intelligence and resulting in a powerful superintelligence that qualitatively far surpasses all human intelligence."

The Singularity will happen when “an upgradable intelligent agent will eventually enter a "runaway reaction" of self-improvement cycles, with each new and more intelligent generation appearing more and more rapidly, causing an "explosion" in intelligence and resulting in a powerful superintelligence that qualitatively far surpasses all human intelligence.”

Then, apparently, POOF! everything will be awesome. Whatever…

What needs to happen is a "singularity" of heart and action. Something small has happened here -- normal people, intensely committed to change of MIND leveraged by people making choices. The mythical "technological singularity" requires NOTHING of us. It'll "just happen" when trillions of dollars are invested in Artificial Intelligence.

Perhaps the spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. would have something to say to that "upgradable intelligent agent" when they meet, spirit plasma to electric plasma...

References: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civil_Rights_Act_of_1964, https://www.timetoast.com/timelines/technology-in-the-1960s,  https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-52854037, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Religious_persecution, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_singularity

Program Book: https://dublin2019.com/whats-on/programming/programme-schedule/

Image: https://www.nobelprize.org/images/king-13174-portrait-medium.jpg

Slice of PIE: The TRUE Meaning of the Life of Pi…

NOT using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Dublin, Ireland in August 2019 (to which I be unable to go (until I retire from education)), I would jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. But not today. This explanation is reserved for when I dash “off topic”, sometimes reviewing movies, sometimes reviewing books, and other times taking up the spirit of a blog an old friend of mine used to keep called THE RANTING ROOM…

My wife and I recently re-watched the movie version of the turn of the century philosophical novel written by Yann Martell. Various interpretations of “what it means” range from “[A] head-scratching combination of dense religious allegory, zoological lore, and enthralling adventure tale, written with warmth and grace.” to “an elegant proof of God, and the power of storytelling.” to  “…Life of Pi sucks…”

Clearly, Yann Martel did exactly what an author is supposed to do: elicit intense emotions.

For myself, I haven’t read the novel, but based on my quick reading of the Wikipedia entry, the movie closely follows the book with the exception of “…another blind castaway, a Frenchman, who boards the lifeboat with the intention of killing and eating Pi, but is immediately killed by Richard Parker…”

For me, the story is a fantasy, no less real that JRR Tolkien’s THE HOBBIT because according to Melissa McPhail, fantasy is “…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.” (https://melissamcphail.com/exploring-tropes-the-ultimate-evil-dark-lord/, blog post from October of 2012).

Despite its fascinating premise, a sort of story-within-story one of which is something approaching realistic in which survivors from the sunken cargo ship, “Tsimtsum, a Japanese freighter that is transporting animals from their zoo to North America” are in a lifeboat and the cook murders and cannibalizes two of them, then makes peace with the boy Pi until starving and with ultimate irony, the boy kills and eats him.

The fantasy comes when the humans are replaced by animals – a hyena, a zebra, and an orangutan…the hyena kills and eats both the zebra and the orangutan. A tiger, suddenly emerging from hiding…kills and eats the hyena,” leaving Pi alone to come to an eventual peace until they run aground in Mexico and the tiger vanishes. (The Frenchman perhaps assumes the identity of the whale who destroys Pi’s supplies and precipitates another disaster…)

Psychologically, the most profound event in the movie (and perhaps the book, I’ll add it to my growing pile of “things I should read”) is totally glossed over as a motivation for what happens. If the orangutan does in fact represent his mother, Pi not only witnesses  the brutal murder of his mother and her horrific consumption by the cook (and it’s virtually guaranteed that he eats all of the flesh RAW); but it creates in him a rage so huge that the animal he assigns to that rage is a Bengal tiger.

A Bengal tiger ranks among the largest cats today, and is considered to be a of a group of animals so impressive that their images are invoked to save other creatures less worthy of rescue. Among these “charismatic megafauna” are the African elephant, the Humpback Whale, the bald eagle, the giant panda, penguins, and other animals guaranteed to create a sigh or a “wow!” from humans targeted to support environmental concerns. It does seem logical that people are less inspired to “Save the Royal Marstonian Snail!” or “Save the Lobed Star Coral!”, than they are to “Save the Bengal Tiger!”

At any rate, while a truly magnificent animal, it too is on the Endangered Species list and while Pi imagines(?) it killing and devouring the hyena, he imagines not only himself as a Bengal tiger, but he sees in himself that thoughtless response (aka animal instinct) and sees himself as an animal, slaughtering the cook, who is a hideous murderer and cannibal.

Here, despite all the glowing reviews, I wonder if Yann Martel’s purpose was to show that Humans are indeed simply animals. Just under the surface of our civilized manners, in fact hiding our true nature from ourselves (religious, areligious, brilliantly scientific, or functionally illiterate) we are little more than one of many kinds of killing machines – from virus to Spinosaurus.

In fact, despite the howls against the cruelty of Humanity by proponents and members of the National Wildlife Federation, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, the Animal Welfare Institute, PetPedia, and the International Union for Conservation of Nature; every one of the earnest individuals who serve, agree with, and support their conservation efforts – stand on the shoulders of Humans who slaughtered their way to planetary dominance.

There is no escaping that, not even, Yann implies, in the middle of the ocean. Here is a boy who goes from being a vegetarian, skips lightly over pescatarianism, and lands with both feet firmly on outright cannibalism.

The person telling the story, revealed both at the beginning and the end as a highly civilized, moral Human, one Piscine Molitor "Pi" Patel, who is married with two children and living (of ALL of the common sense and pacifistic countries), CANADA!

Yet, unless you sit and think about it, you don’t connect this soft-spoken man hosting a guest as the man-after-the-boy who deliberately and possibly in a blind rage, killed and ate another Human being.

Ultimately THE LIFE OF PI isn’t about God as the author Yann claims in the introduction when he writes, “This book will make you believe in God.”

Critic Cath Murphy goes on to say, “It’s a big claim to make. If asked which book was responsible for the highest number of Road to Damascus moments, most people would probably suggest the Bible, or the Koran, or even The Tao of Pooh.

“Yet this is the claim made by Yann Martel in the prologue to his Booker Prize winning, best-selling, world changing novel Life of Pi…Silly is the word which came right into my head when I tried to sum up how I felt about this book. [Yann] might have overstated the power of his tale to inspire religious belief.”

It's my thought that the book is about us and any lofty ideal we try to espouse. It appears to me to be a consideration of just how close Humanity remains to being nothing but a tribe of amoral, spiritless, sometimes-thinking animals…

How’s THAT for “examin[ing] difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity”?

                                                            

Resources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_of_Pi, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_of_Pi_(film), https://litreactor.com/columns/your-favorite-book-sucks-life-of-pi, https://awionline.org/content/list-endangered-species,

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/5/57/Life_of_Pi_2012_Poster.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 447

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.

Popular Fantasy Story/Series: Harry Potter, et al

Trope: Allergic To Evil

Current Event: http://www.theregister.co.uk/2014/03/20/satan_dinosaur_chickens_hell/

Andre Xavier Xavier, a Bryshwyn of Bryshwyns, the turban on his head release more than its usual curl of very pale, very curly hair. The curls sprang out all around.

As well, a line of monks striding in loose exercise uniforms keeping cadence happened by at that moment. Andre used a vulgar word that made even Raven Zoe Jefferson, a Nobody of Nobodys blush in embarrassment. The lead monk called a different cadence and they set off at a faster pace. Zoe said, “If I’d shouted that, I’d be in the gym for the next forty hours.”

“That’s not true!” Andre exclaimed.

Fendwyri  Alyn Wader, whose family enabled music to communicate in addition to entertaining, walked by and said, “Of course it is, Bryshwyn! If it wasn’t for our kind, the Vacancy would be permanently filled with evil.”

“I thought you were allergic to evil, Wader?” Andre shot at the older boy.

Fendwyri spun around, eyes narrowing to slits as he shot back, “Aren’t you late to meditation?”

“Aren’t you?” The musician opened his mouth to snarl a reply then turned and ran.

Andre muttered the first syllables of another enablement.

Zoe kicked him in the shin, turned and sprinted after Fendwyri, snapped, “No more!” She passed the older boy who, once he thought he was out of their reach had slowed down to a jog. Now he exclaimed and tried to speak an enablement over her, so she spun, swept his feet out from under him and sprinted into the Canis Abbey proper, barely out of breath. She skipped to a halt, then strode to the front, plopped down on the bench then lifted her eyes to contemplate the slowly turning obsidian sphere hanging from the Abbey’s vaulted ceiling. No one noticed her because as she sat, Andre and Fendwyri came in.

The whispers started at the back of the nave and swept forward. Zoe ignored them until the older boy abruptly appeared next to her. She didn’t know if he enabled the floor to carry him faster than he could walk, but it didn’t matter as, glaring down at her, he whispered, “That’s the last time...”

The air around them grew cold and squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she only assumed her breath exhaled in a white cloud. A booming voice said, “All students will be seated and silent during meditations.” It was a standard warning. The University surveillance system could easily have generated it. However, it would not have added, “Masters Wader and Xavier and Mister Jefferson will please report to the commissariat following meditations.”

There was a faint rustle – though with the building now all ears no one dared actually speak – as everyone moved at the same time. Zoe kept her eyes closed as someone passed in front of her and sat down and someone dropped down next to her on her other side. She opened her eyes, but focused on the sphere instead of trying to look left or right.

The knees on either side of her gave them away as the colors were obviously Wader Green and Xavier Sable. Her own colors were Poor Girl Whatever. Instead of fear though, anger welled inside of her. What right did these two boys have placing her in between their familial feud? What right did either of them presume that she would be on “their” side in an arguments. Fendwyri was nice enough to her when they were alone. She considered Andre a good friend.

Her real enemy lived up the hall from her in the women’s dorm – Semolina Nyanchi Fieldthwaite. The girl with the amazing hair and the attitude to willingly flaunt it. The source of her control over enabling the growth of anything from snowflakes to Tower Trees, she was also a member of a family that had once shared the power of filling the Vacancy.

Now she just annoyed Raven and constantly made snide remarks. She tried focusing on the sphere again, finally and slowly calming her turbulent head games, when a cry went up from outside, “Syzhin devils!”

The assembly leaped to its feet as the land raid siren began its mournful wail, echoing even to the depths of the University; everyone rushing to defend the battlements against the scourge of the world.

Names: ♀ Popular African American name, Australian Capital Territory, Common African American last name; ♂ Popular American name, Brazil

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

WRITING ADVICE: What Went RIGHT #47…With “Cockroach, Gecko, Wasp, Tiger” (Submitted 13 times with 3 revisions, sold to Nebula Tales Magazine #4, August 2019)

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” and I’m busy sharing that with you.

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.

 Faulkner once wrote, “The best fiction is far more true than any journalism.” And Tea Obreht thought that “The best fiction stays with you and changes you.” These are my goals…

As you can see above, it took me two years to sell this story. I think there were several reasons, but let’s start with my summer vacation in August of 2018…

Yeah, seems unlikely, I know. So, let’s go even farther back in time to here:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgTPXHnisu_u9qxxStv26OeTzlnrXYt7R1FxqHAq-Bpk3h4BBogkaLJaYcpqKIRbBvQN4ppOLE0loZMCsayO8QZqjUFd6cuPAPvV0P1xVcE0ODjuzgQz2MNGOeiTnAQqL0tf3c7oxAOvM9LcY0MjDzi2fnIQkcX=

This illustration was for John Brunner’s March 1973 short story, “Who Steals My Purse”. It’s about repurposing IBMs to drop tools, seeds, and other necessities onto an unnamed (read “Viet Nam”) southeast Asian country fighting a US/Soviet Union-backed war. Brunner looked at the effect of a massive humanitarian effort on the “little guy”. It was not nice…

My son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids took me all over South Korea, visiting dozens of museums and battlefield memorials, and history displays. I absorbed it and when I returned, decided to set up a series of stories about the future of the South Korean space program. The first story I sold was “Kamsahamnida, America”. (I’ll details the writing and selling of that one sometime in the future.) When I returned from South Korea, I did a huge amount reading about South and North Korea and their relationship with each other.

I read Brunner’s story, took notes, and then began the story that started as “What the Cockroach Said”, integrating a new technology of paper robots (https://www.defenseone.com/technology/2016/02/army-has-made-robot-cockroach/125766/) and an message to a North Korean woman in a work camp whose father had displeased the ruler of the Hermit Kingdom. It began:

“Baek Pi Ji-woo stepped from railroad tie to railroad tie, bundled in her well-worn, quilted Russian jacket, and heavy boots with hard soles. Frigid winds lashed around her. Pausing, she looked up to the distant, pine wrapped, snow blown mountains. She could turn off the rail, walk away, to disappear into the forest. She would tire eventually, lie down, fall asleep in the snow, and never wake.

“Exiled because her father had been executed, a fierce tiger to the end, proud to plot the overthrow of the dictator Kim Jong-Un.”

When she returns to her apartment, she finds a cockroach that speaks to her in too-formal Korean with a southern accent. Shortly, she’s visited by a Russian gecko, then a Chinese wasp. All offer her enticements to either carry a message, rebel against the Kim Dynasty, or resist revolution, and maintain the status quo. Of course, the main character does what she wants to: follow in the steps of her father.

I thought the idea was interesting and I’d never seen it in my reading, so the writing went smoothly (I wrote it in he middle of a Minnesota winter; the Korean peninsula experiences similar weather as we are on the 45^th Parallel and Pyongyang is on the 35^th…) and I polished it and sent it to a magazine known for taking chances – The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. It was bounced by CC Finaly, but with “…it didn’t win me…” which is, to all who know these kinds of things, one step below acceptance!

That’s why when I sent it to Clarkesworld…and Escape Pod, Daily Science Fiction, Asimov’s, Compelling SF, Apex, If This Goes On Anthology, Metaphorosis, Deep Magic, Diabolical Plots, and Uncanny…I was startled that it didn’t sell; not because I’m such a great writer but because it was about something we typically don’t talk about: What do Koreans think about the war – which they refer to as 625 (South) and The Patriot’s War (North)? It was ABSOLUTELY a proxy war – followed the spectacularly unsuccessful Vietnam War…

I’ve made another attempt to look at the Reunification of the Koreas – and bluntly state why the world would view that as a negative – in another story that’s out on submission to ANALOG Science Fiction and Fact. In that story, one of the characters briefly notes, “‘I can easily name governments that would like to see your homeland one united slag heap.’ Thatcher lifted her very large, paw-like hand and flexed each claw out, counting, ‘Taiwan, Japan, Cuba, Afghanistan, Palestine, Syria, Canada, India, Australia, America, Mexico, Peru, Chile, and New Zealand – oh, and the ones scattered in the deeps like Papua New Guinea, Micronesia, the Philippines, and Indonesia all have reason to fear a united Korea. It would mean economic ruin for the rest of the world. 625…’”

So, when this story finally found a home in an odd little magazine, I was thrilled.

What went right? First I wrote fast and I wrote according to the brilliant observations of Lisa Cron, which she shared in her book, WIRED FOR STORY. (I also did a series of posts you can read if you click on CRON AND KOREA to the right there under Labels.)

Second, I was persistent. I can’t say this is my strong suit, but I really believed that this story had something to say.

Third, I really believed that this story had something to say. I should add here that maybe the very fact that I was trying to say something, albeit with less skill, put off editors. I don’t know. There’s a lot I need to learn still about trying to “say things” with my writing.

But, I’ll leave that for a future post.

References: The MOST popular SF magazines -- https://www.forbes.com/sites/adamrowe1/2020/01/27/science-fiction-and-fantasy-magazines-in-2020-readership-is-healthy-but-revenues-arent/#7517e2a94ef3

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 446

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: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ThePlague

Current Event: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2020/04/200429075851.htm

“Blue Mars, Blue Plague”

Aicha Hoxha stood in the lateral exposed lava tube at the bottom of the narrow canyon branch of Valles Marineris. “This is it. I can feel it.”

Tareq Berzins still stood at the tube’s entrance. “All you can feel is the fabric of your skintight under the surface suit.”

Aicha sniffed. While she very much liked Tareq’s analytical mind usually, he could be such a bore when it came to exploration. “You have no imagination, TB.” She grinned. He hated the initials because of their implication of disease. He was a former geologist, now a budding aeresologist.

“Imagination is a highly overrated faculty. It wasn’t imagination that got us to Mars…” He cut himself off, realzing the absurdity of his statement.

Aicha decided to let it go – but made sure she muttered a note to her personal notepad for later taunting use. She grinned and said, “Let’s go in deeper.”

“Why? We can see it’s a cave.”

“Part of our survey mandate is to check out future sites for the colony.”

“We’ve mapped thousands of caves. What’s so interesting about this one?”

Aicha gestured and continued deeper. “It’s fairly straight in and the floor is more or less stone-free. It also rises a bit. Could be good for the colony once we re-establish a real weather system.”

Tarq snorted. “We’ll be less than dust by then.”

She shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see it because of the bulky surface suit. She stopped suddenly, said, “That’s weird.”

“What now,” his voice clearly implied that his patience was wearing thin.

“There’s something blue on the wall.”

“What do you mean ‘something blue on the wall’?”

“Just what I mean. There’s something I can’t identify that is blue and on the wall. You have the bioscanner programming, come here.”

“Really? I haven’t booted it up in months. There’s nothing alive on Mars.”

She leaned closer, suddenly remembering a scene from a horror movie that had scared her spitless when she was back on Earth in Minnesota and thirteen years old. She leaned back and stopped herself from touching the blue patch. With an exasperated sigh, Tareq muttered something uncomplimentary and stood next to her several moments  later. She said, “See?”

This time, he didn’t say anything. His fingers thudded over the keypad on his sleeve. A moment later, he held up the palm of his hand. A bright light emanated from the fingertips.

The blue stuff moved, as if avoiding the bright light. Both of them uttered a mild expletive and Tareq shifted to longer wavelengths, stopping short of infrared. “What is it?”

“I’m running through the biologs. As far as I can tell, it’s never been catalogued.”

“It’s new!” Exclaimed Tareq. “We’ve discovered the first real evidence of life on another world!” The blue patch was oozing toward the ceiling, using a sort of slime-mold motion. “Obviously it’s a plant!”

“What do you know about life? I’m the specialist,” she said, leaning closer. “We have to get a sample.” She reached to her hip pack where she carried sample vials. After the first six months of finding nothing but sand, rocks, and frozen carbon dioxide, the vials had been pushed farther and farther back on all of their suits, replaced in some cases by rock sample kits. The aresologists had moved front and center. She worked the pack open and grabbed several sample containers, vials as well as relsealable plastic bags. She extended a spatulate tip of her index finger and reach out to scoop. The entire patch of blue recoiled. “The hell?”

“It’s avoiding you!”

“Don’t project feelings onto something you’ve just discovered,” she said, adding, “You’re specialty is rocks. Mine is life. Keep your comments to yourself.”

For once, he shut up. Tareq didn’t so much as hum. She reached again, steadily this time rather than moving fast. The spatula touched the blue…slime. It began to ooze up the collector. Then suddenly it was all on the back of her glove. “Weird…” she muttered. Then it began to disappear. “Almost like it’s penetrating the glove…”

Names: ♀ Algeria, Albania; ♂  Libya, Latvia       

Image:

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/01/Ariane5_VA221_liftoff2.jpg/220px-Ariane5_VA221_liftoff2.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: MEN IN BLACK III – More Of The Same Or Exactly The Right Note?

NOT using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Dublin, Ireland in August 2019 (to which I be unable to go (until I retire from education)), I would jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. But not today. This explanation is reserved for when I dash “off topic”, sometimes reviewing movies, sometimes reviewing books, and other times taking up the spirit of a blog an old friend of mine used to keep called THE RANTING ROOM…

Eighteen years ago, The Daughter and I went to see Men In Black 3. I personally think the MIB franchise may be suffering from the STAR TREK Curse -- only in this case, it's the ODD numbered movies that are great...

My daughter and I wrote an article together for a blog I was part of then. My wife and I watched the first in the series a few nights ago and will likely proceed to this again. Even the reviewers liked it. So I guess, in retrospect, The Daughter and I did pretty well!

So, without further ado, I present this blast from the past:

Let me just say that while my daughter and I share a voracious reading habit, our reading MATERIAL is wildly different. We’ve been known to cross over into each other’s territory, but for the most part, I read and write science fiction and she reads and writes fantasy.

Even in terms of the MIB franchise – I love it for the aliens, she loves it for Will Smith...(;-))

I’m NOT going to iterate the plot here. If you really want to know the entire movie before you see it, go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Men_in_Black_3 to get the complete lowdown.

The Daughter and I are here to review the movie and first of all I want to point out that if you’re shy of emotional issues, then this MIB is not for you. Where the others were a joyous romp all over the tropes of alien occupation, invasion and secret societies; MIB3 for the first time deals with feelings. The Daughter: And not just superficial feelings between Will Smith and an alien princess (ahem…Men in Black 2), but real, substantial feelings that resonate not just with blissful lovebirds but with the human experience at a deeper level.

Therein lies its strength.

Io9 recently posted on “trilogies”, the best and the worst – it’s worth a read! Read it here: http://io9.com/5912471/best-and-worst-movie-threequels-of-all-time. If I was writing the piece, I would now add the MIB franchise to the BEST, especially if you drop the second, painfully hideous flick (sorry Rick).

Where the first two movies were alien romps with gross beings and fantastic laser guns, and while the third one has these, there is a far deeper story here. Even more amazing, the character who is pushing for the deeper story is J, Will Smith’s character. Smart, sassy and obnoxious for the first two movies, it’s as if he grew up in the interval between MIB2 and MIB3. He is, in fact, older in this movie than in the others! Both The Daughter and I noticed that Will Smith has aged albeit gracefully The Daughter: Meanwhile Tommy Lee Jones is wizened and equipped with his usual endearing stoicism, he just sort of looks old. MIB1 was made in 1997 and MIB2 in 2002, so that means that Smith was a “kid” of 29 and is now 43. Those years, especially with children added in, can age a person, especially when he and his wife worked full time as actors as well as having a family life and everything that entails in these early years of the 21^st Century.

That explains the new depth of character that Smith gives Agent J, and it seems to me that the main issue broached in the movie is one that Smith may have had to face when he was 13, and one he has likely pondered as a dad.

Another actor The Daughter and I discussed was Emma Thompson. Winner of 40 awards including Emmys, Oscars and Golden Globes whose acting credits run from Beatrice in Shakespeare’s MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING to the voice of the cat woman, Captain Amelia in the cartoon TREASURE PLANET. She has played such eccentric and varied characters as Nanny McPhee and Karen Eiffel. We could just see her agent handing her the script for MIB3 and her trying to fend it off, and crying in her distinctive British accent, “No, no, please! Not another American film! Especially about alien invasions! I refuse to be known as That British Sci-Fi Actor! Look what happened to Sigourney Weaver!”

We imagined the agent begging her and finally, exasperated, she would grab the script and begin to read. When she’s done, she would have sighed and clutched the pages to her chest, leaned back and said, “Now THIS is intelligent.”

Because above all things, MIB3 is smart, sassy and has fascinating characters – finally.

Don’t get me wrong, the gross aliens are still there: Humans in fanciful costumes, Bowling Ball Head, a gigantic fish who tries to eat J (and who just has to be related to the subway alien, Jeff), as well as the ubiquitous Worms (who are always abandoning Earth at the moment of truth) and the unsurprising revelation that Lady Gaga is an alien living on Earth. The Daughter: I KNEW IT! Also, one must note the distinctively retro angle they took on the aliens at the 1969 MIB headquarters. Garish colors; flaky pointed heads; and bulky costumes make them look oh so corny. Yet the viewer takes pleasure in this knowing that it was deliberately done and stands in contrast to the sharp sleekness of the contemporary MIB headquarters.

 But two new aliens gave us pause by their depth. Griffin, a five dimensional being who can appear any way he wants to in our three dimensions and who views time however he wants to as either spectator or participant is both winning and thought-provoking. Brilliantly played by actor Michael Stuhlbarg, we fell in love with him and his earnest, vaguely creepy comments. The way he viewed time as endlessly branching possibilities that eventually collapse into the “present” we are familiar with, made me remember the importance of seemingly small events and the possibility that they can be significant. He iterates this well when he says something like, “No one is that important to the time line.”  Agent J replies that something Griffin assumes is there – isn’t, Griffin amends, “Oh, he’s one of the ones who IS that important.”

But Boris The Animal (“My name is BORIS IT’S JUST BORIS!”) is especially...alien. In a movie full of Humans in costumes, this alien is truly creepy as only an “almost-but-not-exactly-Human-with-unsettling-differences” can be. The Daughter: the worst moment is when his weird “film canister” eyes fall out during his final scene, in order to pull back into his disgusting carcass-esque body. His biology is both bizarre and almost understandable and while his attitude is unrelentingly foul (making him a bit one-dimensional) he is the perfect villain for the MIB. There are even echoes of J’s issue in a scene between Borises – but I’ll leave it to you to figure that out. The movie is rich with allusions and metaphors and perhaps even a parable or two.

While I wouldn’t go so far as to say that MIB3 is the greatest science fiction movie of all time, I would be willing to say that it is one of the Ten Best SF Movies of All Time – and for this critic of SF movies, that’s going WAY out on a limb. 

See it. I’m pretty sure you won’t regret it. The Daughter: This is a gross, exciting sci-fi movie that’s for women, too…and not in the same way that say, TRANSFORMERS stuck in a romance in order to please the girlfriends that were dragged along to that movie. It’s just not a silly hack-and-slash/blinking lights film. It’s like…quality.

One final note, even knowing the ending, I actually wept at the end of the movie this time. While I missed it on the Big Screen, this time I saw the emotions flashing over J's face as he realized EXACTLY what K had done...and why. I think it was BRILLIANT and I now elevate MIB III to the Top Five Best SF Movies of All Time. 

                                                            

Image: https://static.rogerebert.com/uploads/movie/movie_poster/men-in-black-iii-2012/large_vQ1E2A5qt0PbRG2SIsIfXWcUHrw.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 445

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: personally experiencing the death of a _____________

Current Event: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/popular-culture-meets-psychology/201209/near-death-experience

“How do you know how other people experience death?” asked Mr. Folgers, the senior psych teacher.

Carl Haven leaned over to his best friend, Clarke Halverson and whispered, “How do you know when a teacher has gone over the edge?”

“Mr. Haven? The Other Mr. Haven? If you have something to share, let the whole class experience your wisdom.” Mr. Folgers snarled, then spun away from the class back to his Powerpoint presentation.

Clarke glared at the teacher’s back then turned his glare on Carl. A moment later he curled over his notebook and started writing furiously.

Carl looked over his best friend at Se’Anna King whose seat was in the next row. Her eyes widened. He lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

When the bell rang, Clarke was out of his seat like a shot and out of the room. Carl said to Se’Anna, “What’s wrong with...”

Mr. Folgers walked up to him and handed him a yellow slip of paper. Carl exclaimed, “What am I getting a detention for?”

“I believe we have some catching up to do, Mr. Haven Your current grade in the class stands at an NC.”

“What? How can that be? I had a C+ last week!”

“That was before the test you and the Other Mr. Haven cheated on together. You both failed. That and your clone’s repeated missing of due dates and generally sour behavior have placed his otherwise untarnished Grade Point Average in jeopardy.”

Carl snatched the detention slip and muttered darkly under his breath as Mr. Folgers said, “I’ll see you later this week, Mr. Haven. Oh, and send your recalcitrant friend my way as well. I have a slip for him. Right after I call his parents tonight.”

Carl froze, his anger draining away and turned around. “Don’t call his dad, Mr. Folgers! Please? It’ll just make matters worse!”

The psych teacher sniffed, “A phone call in the past has brought amazing results, Mr. Haven. Now hurry to lunch or you won’t be able to have your daily infusion of Mountain Dew to maintain your sunny disposition.”

Carl glared at the teacher’s back then stomped out of the room. The door had a spring-loaded closer, so it was impossible to slam. He stopped in the lav on his way to the foyer where he’d meet his girlfriend Nyota and her passel of gfs and they’d head out to lunch together. He was washing his hands when it felt like someone kicked him in the chest.

He staggered backwards, gasping, stumbled and fell to the floor between the pair of urinals he’d just turned from. From the open lav door, he heard a scream. Then a horrible burning lanced up his leg from his foot to his thigh. He couldn’t help but scream. It felt like someone had blown his leg off!

He looked down expecting to see blood, but there was nothing. Only dirty lavatory floor. An instant later, a younger kid – probably a freshman – ran into the lav, yanking the door closed behind him. Not looking at Carl on the floor, he staggered past and went to the handicapped stall and slammed the door.

On the floor was a red footprint. Carl was staring at it when another wave of searing pain shot up his arm from his hand…

Names: ♂ Sweden, England; ♂ Ireland, Scandinavia           

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WRITING ADVICE: Focus on Short Stories #1 – Ray Bradbury "& Me"

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”. In this case, I’m going to use a quote from a famous “short story artist” and jump off from there.

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!

It's been a while since I decided to add something different to my blog rotation.

Today, I’m going to be looking at “advice” for writing short stories – not from me, but from other short story writers. In speculative fiction, “short” has very carefully delineated categories:

“The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America specifies word lengths for each category of its Nebula award categories by word count; Novel 40,000 words or over; Novella 17,500 to 39,999 words; Novelette 7,500 to 17,499 words; Short story under 7,500 words.”

I’m going to use advice from people who, in addition to writing novels, have also spent plenty of time “interning” with short stories. The advice will be in the form of a single quote off of which I’ll jump and connect it with my own writing experience.

Without further ado, let’s start with Ray Bradbury, a master storyteller in multiple genre, though perhaps best remembered for his speculative writing. Upon his death, The New York Times noted: “[Bradbury is] the writer most responsible for bringing modern science fiction into the literary mainstream”.

I started reading Bradbury’s short stories in THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES shortly after I graduated from John Christopher’s WHITE MOUNTAIN novels, Andre Norton’s entire body of work, and Heinlein’s juveniles. I found them weird and almost incomprehensible, but took from them a startling vision of Mars. Contemporary writer Kim Stanley Robinson evoked a similar sense for me in his epic, multiple-award-winning MARS trilogy (RED MARS, BLUE MARS, and GREEN MARS).

But we’re here to look at what Bradbury said about short stories – he wrote over six HUNDRED of them after all (he “only” wrote 27 novels…), so advice from him is perhaps wonted by anyone who wants to write short speculative fiction. We’ll start with a few quotes from him:

“Write a short story every week. It's not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row.”

“I know you’ve heard it a thousand times before, but it’s true — hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to practice, practice, practice. If you don’t love something, then don’t do it.”

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

“Don’t think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It’s self-conscious, and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can’t try to do things. You must simply do things.”

“Ideas excite me, and as soon as I get excited, the adrenaline gets going and and the next thing I know I’m borrowing energy from the ideas themselves.”

“There’s no one way to be creative. Any old way will work.”

“The answer to all writing, to any career for that matter, is love.”

Wow! A lot to mine here, so I’ll focus on the one with which I have the most experience. In this case, I’m going to comment on two: “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

This is a part of the “who I am” of writing. As a science teacher and school counselor (since 1981 and while that continued; I’ve been in the second since 2010), I’ve seen grief. If I dare count, three or four of my students – ones I knew well – have been murdered or have taken their own lives. There are few things as sad as the death of a child. In this, I don’t mean “child” in a derogatory sense. I mean it in the sense that even though life has dealt them misery, they are completely unequipped to deal with it the way an adult is. They have either been drawn into a life where their time intersected with bullets; or they have given up entirely and saw no reason to continue on Earth.

At the school I work at, we have had an influx in recent years of students from countries torn by civil and declared war. They have personally witnessed atrocities. Others have lost parents to death, murder, or incarceration. Of those, some have dealt with the crushing load of life in a self-destructive manner. Others have risen so far above their past that I am convinced they look down on the rest of us with sad resignation.

All of that to point out that if I were to completely immerse myself in the lives of these students, I would soon find myself lost in a dark, grim place. My writing – and you’ll see that I tend toward the hopeful and the silly – is my way of dealing with that darkness.

The second Bradbury quote, “I know you’ve heard it a thousand times before, but it’s true — hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to practice, practice, practice. If you don’t love something, then don’t do it.

This is one that anyone who knows me – in particular my wife – will roll their eyes in mock (I hope!) frustration when asked what I do in my “spare” time. I DON’T HAVE spare time – I am either living life to the fullest or I’m writing. I was going to say there’s nothing else, but that’s not being completely honest. I DO use the bathroom; I DO sleep; I DO spend time with my lovely wife; kids; kids-in-law; foster kids; grandkids; and less-frequently, my brothers, sister, and nephews and nieces…

At any rate, I LOVE writing and I spend an inordinate amount of time writing. I’m currently organizing my files (after thirty or more years of writing, filing, and carting the files around.) I’ve written A LOT of stuff. By last count, I’ve submitted manuscripts to markets 1139 times since 1990. 107 of them have been accepted and published somewhere. But to tell you the truth, I don’t know how MANY manuscripts I’ve written that never reached to submission stage; and of the ones I’ve submitted, I don’t know exactly how MANY manuscripts there are there.

So, with that in mind, I think I qualify for the idea of working hard and loving what I’m doing! Seeing my name in print those 107 times STILL thrills me – and I page through the magazines and websites to find them every once in a while. It’s fun!

In conclusion, the advice of Bradbury is sound and I will continue to apply it to my own writing. How about you?

References: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Word_count, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Bradbury, https://writingcooperative.com/6-quotes-by-ray-bradbury-to-make-you-a-better-writer-3b341e840a84

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