IDEAS ON TUESDAY 117

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: The rag-tag rebel army/fleet struggles valiantly to overthrow the Evil Empire (The TV series FIREFLY used this trope to great effect!)

Current Event: http://metro.co.uk/2013/06/25/star-wars-actor-warwick-davis-id-love-to-be-a-villain-with-a-lightsaber-in-episode-7-3854887/

Zehra Borg bit her lower lip, then remembered that it wasn’t exactly the most impressive look in the world. Captain Fenwick was up front, trying to cut a deal with the insectoid Krkrach swarm leader. They’d watched the entire classic movie, DISTRICT 9 in order to get them ready for this.

Still, the things were creepier than all get out – and she wasn’t helping to create a fearsome Human image by biting her lip.

Beside her, Warwick Yilmaz dug his elbow into her side, leaned over and whispered, “They really do look like crickets on steroids!”

“That’s ‘allies’ to you, boy!”

He subsided and grunted. They needed all the help they could get. The upper stratosphere of the Empire was controlled entirely by Humans. There wasn’t a single alien in any position higher than the Secretary of Inter-Species Affairs – and it’s job was mostly ceremonial. The real decisions were made by the Human Director of Inter-Species Affairs. The Secretary, while it certainly seemed to be an intelligent snail-like being, didn’t seem overly smart. She sighed. That was how she’d gotten involved in this whole rebellion.

From behind her, a thorny creature known to Humans as an Athing, nudged her, nearly knocking her off her feet. While most Athings were polite, philosophical if somewhat long-winded beings, this one was rude, obnoxious – and seemed to be out to get her goat.

Warwick saw what Geffner – that’s what this one’s name (or title, she wasn’t sure) was – did. He flushed red and balled his fists, muttering, “If the captain weren’t trying to negotiate help...”

Geffner rumbled something back and while none of them had their translator circuits tuned at the moment, its intent was clear. Warwick murmured back, “You and what part of the squad?”

 

Suddenly the Captain turned around and snapped, “Geffner, Borg, Yilmaz and Kachuh’Gna – forward!”

Zehra’s eyes widened and she glanced at Warwick as she snapped to attention and went forward. Geffner farted – an Athing’s response to unexpected stress. She wasn’t exactly sure what Kachuh’Gna did, but the amorphous alien was suddenly resting near the Captain, it’s pangolin-like pet seated on top of its pulsating blob of a body.

Zehra and Warwick stepped lively, though Warwick had to step faster than she did because his legs were markedly shorter – he was from Human stock that had once been called “midgets”. Kachuh’Gna was already there and after a moment of immobility, Geffner had lumbered up to join them.

The Captain said, “You four are going to be doing a solider exchange. We need to better understand the Krkrach. You four are the best we have at adapting to alternative life forms. So you’re going to live with the Swarm for the next two  months. You’re going to share your ideas with each other and you’re going to make the integration of our two forces go smoothly and without a hitch. The Flota de Rebelde is planning an major incursion into Imperial space and we need every advantage we can get – including a thorough understanding of our new allies’ military and communication abilities.” She nodded to them, then turned and bowed to the Head Cricket On Steroids...

Names: ♀ Turkey, Malta ; ♂ England, Turkey  

Image: http://themovieblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/thing.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Bruce Bethke’s TWELVE STEP PROGRAM FOR WRITERS #11

Somewhere around thirty years ago, I met Bruce Bethke for the first time – when I responded to an ad in a newspaper for a science fiction writers group seeking new members. I called, then sent in an “audition story” and was invited to join the group at the ORIGINAL, original Loft Literary Center (before grant money started flowing) in Minneapolis. One of THEM reviews books now, the other published a few books and short stories but no longer writes. Bruce doesn’t write much lately except for non-fiction; he is currently executive editor of STUPEFYING STORIES, an irregular anthology of new speculative fiction, he mostly works for a super computer company as well as presiding over Rampant Loon Press. These nuggets of wisdom can be found here: http://www.sfwa.org/2009/06/a-12-step-program-for-writers/. They are used with the author’s permission.

 

11.We have sought through prayer and the Internet to improve our conscious contact with Our New Editor, praying that she will stay with the publisher long enough to get our latest book out the door.

Of course, this implies that I had an OLD editor.

 

Given that, I can relate one experience in which the editor I worked with changed and I had to re-establish a new relationship with a new editor.

 

In 1995, I wrote and sent a story called, “Mystery on Space Station Courage” to HIGHLIGHTS FOR CHILDREN magazine. It was written specifically for a call they’d posted for “science fiction for children”.

 

They didn’t want it.

 

I sent it to CRICKET MAGAZINE, whose editor was Deborah Vetter at that time. She saw something in and after working with me for several weeks, accepted the story and published in 1997.

 

Fast forward to October 2011. Minnesota SCBWI holds its annual Conference at the beautiful campus of Metropolitan State University where we listen to a number of speakers – one of whom is Lonnie Plecha, most recent editor of CRICKET MAGAZINE. After listening to him, I craft and send a science fiction story for children (which they still apparently seek!) called, “The Penguin Whisperer” which combines not ONLY Space Station Courage, but also a recently discovered phenomenon called colloidal jamming in which penguins move constantly through the flock from one edge to the other and back in order to keep warm during very cold periods.

 

He accepted the story with relatively few changes and while I didn’t experience shepherding a story from one editor to another, I DID experience a shift from one editor to another. I am hoping to do the same with Trevor Qachri at ANALOG. He recently assumed the helm from long time editor Stanley Schmidt who retired. I’ve only sent two stories there since the change-over, but I have a third that is there presently. We’ll see if my writing matches the direction that Trevor Qachri will be taking ANALOG in the future!

 

I can possibly see this in my relationship with my agent, Karen Grenchik of Red Fox Literary. I do NOT want to bother her, but I definitely want to keep in touch. I recently became discouraged with the lack of positive response from editors who have seen the manuscript, VICTORY OF FISTS. I emailed Karen and asked if it was time to pull it down and give up.

 

She (sort of) laughed and said, “...please don’t give up hope on VOF.  I just sold a middle grade novel for an older man who’s been writing daily for 20 years.  He quit submitting ten years ago when he received his 300th rejection.  I will keep trying to find the right home for Victory.”

 

I love her for that (as much as you can  love a person you’ve never even met!) and I have some decently shaped hope as a result of that brief message.

 

How MUCH does this relate to Bruce’s 11^th Step? Not so much, but it certainly got me to thinking about exactly what it takes to stay in the writing business. As several people have pointed out – including Bruce and Kristine Kathryn Rusch – this is, after all, a business. And while it certainly involves ART & CRAFT, it is really more about keeping your product on the market, watching market trends, and then trying to tweak your product to meet the needs of the market.

 

Image: http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=BtVQTFBMYyJk9M&tbnid=pYEehN2UExl0iM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Frp.eliteskills.com%2Fr.php%3Fr%3D15334%26p%3D5&ei=RmPHUcDQLIakyQGhw4H4Bw&bvm=bv.48293060,d.aWc&psig=AFQjCNH-EUBX68wg8tz4NSkQWf80AQ1KUQ&ust=1372107935129882

WORST POWER OUTAGE IN MINNESOTA HISTORY!

Like it says -- we've been out of power since Friday night. (We live in the upper left hand corner!) I'll get caught up shortly!

Guy

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 43: Stepan Under The HOD Then Up

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official United Faith in Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters , Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters  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. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (26,000 words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

Stepan resisted bellowing in surprise as he and Quinn leaped from the platform.

Behind them, he heard Fagin scream for an instant. The sound was cut off as it felt like a wall smashed into him. But instead of crashing, he slowed then slid to the floor of a cargo transport. “I thought you were going to kill me,” he said to Quinn, who sat on the floor of the transport beside him grinning like an idiot.

“It was a bit of a risk and I haven’t practiced that since I was seven, but I didn’t lose my touch! I got us in safe and sound.”

Step stood, brushing his hands. Then he realized that the floor was covered with dried...something dark that smelled vaguely of sewage. He figured it wouldn’t matter if it were on his pants or on the floor. “So where to now?”

“Under the Home Owner’s District, of course. Didn’t you say you wanted to go there?”

“No, you said you knew where we could get an antigrav plate somewhere in the HOD.”

“Well, it’s the only place someone like us can get a thing like that, so we have to go.”

“Like I said, ‘I wanted to go there’.”

Quinn, the Blue Boy shot him a look then grinned. “You got a rotten sense of humor.”

“Not something I was known for.”

“I’ll bet. Let’s go,” he grabbed Stepan’s hand and started off into the darkness. He dropped the hand and kept on, weaving around obstacles, down connecting corridors and finally to a ladder that appeared to lead into the ceiling. He jumped up and hung for a moment and with a deafening squeal, it rolled down from the ceiling. He started up.

“You want me up there, too?”

“Duh. Who do you think is gonna ask OM Gillard to use his magic toy?”

“Me, I’ll bet.” Stepan follow him up into the narrow tube.

“Duh. I gotta stop.”

“You aren’t going to take a leak on me?” Stepan said, alarmed. He had four older brothers in the Earth-Orbit habitat he grew up in. The youngest of eight, he was either babied or battered – depending on what he was doing and was feeling good or bad. His next oldest brother had one time...He buried that memory back where it had come from.

A low-pitched grinding, much smoother than the ladder, came down from above. A moment later, bright light flooded down. Tinged with red, it obviously came from the real surface and Dome cleared of ubiquitous red Martian sand. Which meant only one thing.

Quinn made a noise from above, then his feet suddenly disappeared. Scowling, Stepan followed more slowly. As he poked his head up into the sunlight, a pair of hands darted down and yanked him free and slammed him on to his back, knocking the wind from him, banging his head against the fused-glass floor.

When he finally caught his breath and his vision cleared, he was looking up into the faces of six people. A grizzled old man said, “Who are you? And if you don’t give me the right answer, you’re a dead man.”

Image: http://s.mcstatic.com/thumb/6146929/17625124/4/flash_player/0/1/nbc_today_show_pee_yew_man_rescued_after_being_swept_down_sewer.jpg?v=1

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 116

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.

F Trope: Talking animals
Current Event: http://www.newsminer.com/article_a5663fec-92d2-57c6-b57c-743b4adf4194.html

Noah Rhydderch shook his head angrily, “No, I know what I heard!”

Machig Labdrön pursed her lips, then took her lower lip between her thumb and finger. Finally she said, “Ravens can’t really speak, you know.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “I know that they aren’t supposed to speak English. I know they’re mimics – but the bird wasn’t just mimicking me. It was trying to tell me something!”

Machig sighed. “Look, Noah. I know we want our research to show that they’re smarter than we’ve given them credit for...”

“Machig! Don’t patronize me!” He shook his head and dropped down onto the lab stool. The raven loft was attached to the lab building of the International Wolf Institute. They were working under a grant from the National Science Foundation – but that did little to make Noah forget his ancestral involvement with the birds. Machig had the same connections – ancient Hebrews, the Welsh and Bhutanese cultures all revered the raven. It was what had drawn them together in the first place (though in a distressingly asexual way). He continued, “Don’t you think I’m weirded out by what I think I heard?”

She dropped down on the stool next to him and put her hand on his knee, though she didn’t look at him. She said, “So tell me again – what did Katoohk say to you?” They’d named raven #13 of their survey flock an Anglicized version of an Far Eastern Russian creator god.

“See that was what was weird, he didn’t actually say anything to me. I...” he paused, shot her a look and said, “I dreamed it.”

She took her hand away, rolling her eyes as she stood up. “Oh, great! I can just see the section in our paper on ‘Dream Interpretation and Communication Skills of Corvus corax’!”

 

“I didn’t ask for the dream! I’m just telling you about it!”

“You’re acting like it’s significant to our studies!”

 

“I’m not the one who said it was – Kahoohk said what he had to tell me was significant!”

Machig took a deep breath, sat back down and faced Noah. She said, “All right. I’ll listen to your dream – but don’t interpret for me. Just tell me what happened to the best of your memory.” She set her ipik down and turned it on. “If what you say is relevant in any way, I’ll think about it and let you know if I think it has any significance.”

 

“You mean you get last say? That’s not fair! This is my research, too!”

 

She snorted, “That’s exactly what’s fair! It’s yours ‘too’! My name will be attached to it and I don’t know if I want it attached to some fairy tale!”

 

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Dropped back down on the stool and said, “All right. This is what Kahoohk said: “A hero of Ireland, Cú Chulainn had a son whose name was Connla, by Aífe. Connla has been long separated from his father and seeking him to sit with him and do the things fathers and sons enjoy, comes to Ireland in search of him. Cú Chulainn takes the son he does not recognize as an intruder and kills him when he refuses to identify himself. Connla's last words to his father as he dies are that they would have ‘carried the flag of Ulster to the gates of Rome and beyond’, leaving Cú Chulainn both without an heir and grief-stricken and with no understanding of what he did.”

 

Machig made a face and sagged in the chair. “I thought you were going to say something significant.” She laughed. “You don’t even have a kid!” When she looked at him again, his face was white. “What?”

 

“I suppose before we move any farther ahead or back in our relationship – or non-relationship as the case may be, I have something I should tell you…”

 

Names: ♀ Bhutan; ♂ Hebrew, Welsh

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8efHAs55jUZ7KxymSMaY433gaIwVtnPYj-kz2dQ44ZZlVMEx4aZuvz2ZOFm7NyVl6J1fcArQMO2r6X9yb6cFKa5vwgW1uvNiolraqnp8uJekEahaaTBSCo7pvHhKWyLXYp0nOOF9HEg/s1600/inkyquills+raven.jpg

Slice of PIE: I SHOULD Write About Father’s Day, Right?

My banner above says, “Where Writing, Christianity and Speculative Fiction Interact and You Can Comment On My Fiction – So We Can Learn TOGETHER”.

 

I’ve meant that from the day I posted my first entry on August 1, 2007 six years ago.

 

Hardly anyone posts a response these days, but from what I read, that’s because:

 

There are over a billion FaceBook pages. I’m there: https://www.facebook.com/guy.stewart.946

 

There are half a billion Twitter account users. I’m there: @gstewart75 (https://twitter.com/gstewart75)

 

Outlook has almost another half billion. I’m there: gstewart75@hotmail.com

 

LinkedIn has 225 million. I’m there, too.

 

Dropbox has over 100 million. Working with a friend of mine on Dropbox.

 

According to my source, in 2012, there were approximately 31,000,000 of which 35% use eBlogger like I do. That comes out to 10,850,000 so I really DON’T feel bad that people don’t comment. I DO know that somewhere in the neighborhood of 35,000 people have stopped by during that time.

 

I DO know that there are 462 Comments and that I have fairly regular commenters.

 

So what have I learned in the past 6 years?

 

Lots – I learned that I LOVE writing in blog-bits! What are they? If you look at my sidebar, you’ll see A PINE IN THE CITY ALONE (picture book), A SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH (young adult/middle grade historical), LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION (young adult science fiction), and A MARTIAN HOLIDAY (science fiction novel for adults with a Christian worldview).

 

I’ve written three other picture books thus far (one went to my agent but she didn’t think it was strong enough, the second and third I’m still revising); two YA/MG novels (one I sent to my agent and she found it confusing, the other I’m waiting to publish my first NON-genre novel to jump into the genre novels for kids); a fantasy novel I am also waiting on my publication of one of TWO novels that are out there in Submission Land; and a Christian novel whose elevator pitch is “Jan Karon’s MITFORD series meets CROSS AND THE SWITCHBLADE (or for a more contemporary title, you could try CHASING THE DRAGON)”.

 

Have I sold any books? Nope.

 

Have I sold any stories? Yep. (See above for my most recent publication.)

Am I constantly writing?

 

As my Scandinavian forebears might have said, “You betcha!” 

I also learned that when I publish something in my blog, it’s considered published. Of course, the books I write are ONLY initial drafts – I play with ideas, characters, tone, and theme. That’s why if you read my posts in order, you’ll see that not only do the things I listed change – but names, genders and tenses change as well. When I do the final draft, all of that will be resolved – but that’s what I need the input for! I want to know what is working and what is not. I solicit the views of people of various beliefs as well – I do NOT feel called to write for the evangelical Christian market (except for some few, very specific projects). I need to know if my own faith is peeking through TOO MUCH. I don’t want to bury what I believe, but I don’t want to be offensive to my market, either.

 

I want to do what Jesus did – tell interesting stories that are perfectly legitimate on the surface of them, but can be interpreted on a deeper level as well. “The Prodigal Son” is an excellent piece of flash fiction (they called them parables in Jesus’ day) by itself. Makes you sigh and wish that your family was like that! (I talked about this long, long ago: http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2008/11/writing-advice-parable-storythat.html). But it can be read on a spiritual level as well and it was “for those who have ears to hear”.Anyway, I HAVE to get this posted, so I’ll end now. I LOVE blogging. I love comments.

 

‘nuff said.

 

Resources: http://expandedramblings.com/index.php/resource-how-many-people-use-the-top-social-media/, http://expandedramblings.com/index.php/social-media-user-stat-infographic/ , http://www.jeffbullas.com/2012/08/02/blogging-statistics-facts-and-figures-in-2012-infographic/

Image: http://us.123rf.com/450wm/spotmatikphoto/spotmatikphoto1305/spotmatikphoto130500753/19667150-montage-of-multicultural-people-couple-and-families-father-mother-son-and-daughter-children-eating-h.jpg

A New Story Up At PERIHELION!

PERIHELION Online Magazine published a short story of mine called "Invoking Fire"!

http://www.perihelionsf.com/fiction_6.htm

I got the idea because my concern with the preponderance of electronic books and its impact on the poor of the world. When I TALKED about it, no one seemed able to see my point.

But this story seems to have gotten me an audience. Maybe more people will consider the impact of US going electronic on THEM who need the books we "throw away"...

In fact, this was brought abruptly to the forefront of thought when I got an email from an old student of mine. She's starting a non-profit organization bent on revitalizing the classrooms of Liberia with better classrooms...AND BOOKS...

From where?

Here.

When all of our books are self-righteously electronic, then where does that leave THE REST OF THE WORLD?

Sorry.

Image:  http://matthewsdent.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/perihelion-june-132.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: The Holy Grail in Ancient and Modern Times -- And The Movie of A Young Friend of Mine

A young friend of mine – whom I had the privilege of writing with in a class he took from me when he was very young (he’d already had three short stories published by then) – premiered a movie for which he conceived the idea, wrote the screenplay, directed and edited. For the complete story, read the article here:

http://post.mnsun.com/2013/06/perpich-student-premieres-independent-film/

As I shared the basic idea with my daughter’s good friend – a teenager’s favorite hat, one he wears only on the weekend, disappears so he sets off to find it and ends up crossing with gangs and twisting and turning with humor in what is billed as a “thriller with comedic twists” – I suddenly realized that I was watching LORD OF THE RINGS the next night (talk about comedic twists!).

My reflections on WEEKEND HAT and LORD OF THE RINGS abruptly began to range all over the place, lighting on MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL as well as other modern interpretations of the legend like THE FISHER KING, and THE DA VINCI CODE.  Ancient literature such as Conte de Grale, Percival, Morte dArthur depends heavily on the legend, but modern lit and speculative fiction in particular has mined the trope. From Samuel R. Delany’s Nova, to Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover books, to Judith Tarr’s Kingdom of the Grail, Elizabeth Bear’s Grail, and Charles Stross’ Accelerando and the expectation that someday Humanity will transcend itself with the help of technology. 

“Why is the Grail legend, traditionally known as an emblem of Christianity, still so popular in a culture that has generally turned away from traditional religion? How does a legend steeped in medieval supernaturalism thrive amid modern skepticism and secular humanism? How does the Grail maintain relevance long after the culture that created it?” (The Science Fiction Film Reader by Greg Rickman)

This myth; this powerful image is diminished and made simple by our longing for a trinket or place or loved one taken too soon – something that I have lost or had taken from me. The concept seems echoed in everything we do.

From the loss of the cup Jesus and his followers used to drink and dine during the very first Jewish Passover that became Christian Communion to civilizations far flung in both time and technology seeking their origins, lost fleets, sons or daughters of Emperors or even the “glory of forgotten days” – all of these are recreated in speculative fiction of the past and today.

The Quest for the Holy Grail with its cascade of amplifying and diminishing movies and literature is also reflected in a little movie by a great young adult in the arts-friendly city of Minneapolis.

If you’d like, please share any other reflections of the Holy Grail you’ve read or watched lately!

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyTq-s3SX-dnGgX6CbKk8uE8W7M0dGxQg84qmzGkGhdWhyphenhyphengjFEDP_37dg99tKN1uoEBKPDbUKWS-qywXBaY2EoPHDjiR0lkTCLbin9VWUCgk14EHOEw3x4h-b-7ecjuST6A_Md1lsEGE/s320/1indy-idol-holy-grail.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 115

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: Post-cataclysmic rag-tag armies struggle to kick [some bad guy] out of the good ol' US of A
Current Event: http://blog.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2012/11/21/could_north_koreans_invade_america

Salvador Cadenas de la Parras screamed, “¡joda la tierra!”; he also cursed the sky and the very air he breathed. He threw his hat over the cliff and cursed an invisible America two thousand kilometers to the north.

Yomery Kauam smiled, shook her head then laughed, saying, “If only you’d have expressed you passion to the Commander in Chief, you’d be on Haitian and Dominican soil at this moment, smashing through that pestilential wasteland on your way to Florida. Instead, you’re here, throwing your hat over a cliff into the bright morning sun.”

Sal spun around, cursed her, fixing her with as fierce a glare as he could. “I wanted to be there!”

Yomery shook her head, “You didn’t want to be there – you wanted to be a hero with El Presidente’s medallion on your chest and women on your arms.” She gestured to the far-away target. “Invading America today is nothing at all like invading it forty years ago!”

 

“It’s the same!”

 

Yomery headed back down the hill. Sal ran after her, grabbed her shoulder. She grabbed his hand, stopped and let gravity and mass work together to flip him over her shoulder. Keep her hand firmly on his wrist, she pulled him back toward herself until he came to a sudden, breathless stop on his back, at her feet. She leaned over, kissed his nose and said, “Let’s talk when you calm down, OK?”

 

She scramble down the trail, listening carefully to make sure she hadn’t broken anything important on Sal. When she heard him groan and scramble to his feet, she headed to the monitor bunker they’d been sharing since Venezuela had launched its preemptive attack against what had formerly been the glorious US of A. She’d been born there in the Decadent Decade just before the Fizzle. The one-time world power was now reduced to planning invasions of one-time failed countries like Venezuela...

 

Sal limped up beside her and said, “¿Por qué hizo usted esto?”

 

She replied in unaccented American English, “Because you tried to bully me.”

 

“I...I...I...”

 

“You should practice your English, Sal. We may not be in on the real invasion, but the occupation of America should keep us busy for…oh, the next decade.”

 

“America might...”

 

“America’s not going to do anything except surrender.”

 

He stared at her and said, “Haven’t you ever watched the Mad Max movies?”

 

“I don’t see what some ancient, flat, American movie...”

 

“It has everything to do with this whole invasion! We may be strong; we may be brave, but the Americans have corazón profundo.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“They have a deep spirit when they’re forced into a corner.”

 

She pursed her lips, glanced north in the direction of the legendary “land of the free and the home of the brave” and said, “That may be true, but I’ve heard that El Presidente has a surprise up his sleeve for the Americans.” Sal ran up behind her, reached to grab her arm then jerked his hand back. Without turning around, she said, “Let’s just say that Americans may have a history of resisting oppressors – Brazilians have a history of subverting our oppressors.”

 

References: http://www.mrqe.com/lists/post-apocalyptic-movies/cinemas-best-to-worst-postapocalyptic-movies

Names: ♀ Venezuela (both); ♂  Venezuela (both)

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WRITING ADVICE: Bruce Bethke’s TWELVE STEP PROGRAM FOR WRITERS #10

Somewhere around thirty years ago, I met Bruce Bethke for the first time – when I responded to an ad in a newspaper for a science fiction writers group seeking new members. I called, then sent in an “audition story” and was invited to join the group at the ORIGINAL, original Loft Literary Center (before grant money started flowing) in Minneapolis. One of THEM reviews books now, the other published a few books and short stories but no longer writes. Bruce doesn’t write much lately except for non-fiction; he is currently executive editor of STUPEFYING STORIES, an irregular anthology of new speculative fiction, he mostly works for a super computer company as well as presiding over Rampant Loon Press. These nuggets of wisdom can be found here: http://www.sfwa.org/2009/06/a-12-step-program-for-writers/. They are used with the author’s permission.

10. We will continue to take inventory of our old unsold stuff, in hopes that something will germinate in the dark and suddenly and spontaneously become a best-seller.

I completely get the first part – but I am puzzled by the last part.

 

So, I’ll do the tough stuff first: “...in hopes that something will germinate in the dark and suddenly and spontaneously become a best-seller.”

 

As I am an old writer, I do in fact, have paper files that would allow something to grow in the cabinet were seeds to get in and water seep create a moist environment conducive to germination and growth.

 

I also realize that paper is DEAD organic matter and turning into something that it is NOT is akin to expecting Spalanzani’s mesh-covered meat to burst with maggots and flies. It’s not going to happen.

 

I have submitted, at best count, something like 800 times. At a guess, I have on file (paper and electronic) something like 600 manuscripts. Of those, roughly 10% have been accepted for publication SOMEWHERE. That means that 60 of my manuscripts have seen the light of day and someone besides me has read them. If I were to dig back to my earliest attempts, I’d find completely unpublishable (note to self: “Self, is it significant to the state of publishing in this second decade of the 21^st Century, that until I added, Microsoft Word XP did not have ‘unpublishable’ in its dictionary? This would make an excellent POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY!”)

 

To date, none of them has reached the NYT Bestseller List (though one is still available from CSS Publishing or Amazon.com).

 

The chances of one of the remaining manuscripts becoming a bestseller are the same as the chance of you spontaneously combusting in your rocking chair. According to Straight Dope, “Over the past 300 years, there have been more than 200 reports of persons burning to a crisp for no apparent reason.” That works out to a .18% chance that you will spontaneously combust today – with an average world population of 3.5 billion, you’d have to wait six million or so years before your turn came up. Your chances of being hit by a tornado are better: “Even if you were to camp out permanently in the heart of tornado alley, statistically speaking you would most likely have to wait 1400 years before being struck by a twister.” (Skyfire TV)

 

So germinating a best-seller from my earlier manuscripts is pretty much a bust. But I can SEND OUT earlier manuscripts to less exalted markets than I usually write for! I did that recently.

 

The first part of Step 10 is easier to understand and I have evidence that doing it on a regular basis might just net a sale for me.

 

I primarily write science fiction because I primarily read science fiction. (Of COURSE I’ve read Chronicles of Narnia (odd – Microsoft Word XP has the word “Narnia” in it…); Lord of the Rings; The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Unbeliever; Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell; War For The Oaks; and Chronicles of the Deryni! (Who DO you think I am?)). I wrote a story I really loved and duly sent it out to my primary markets: ANALOG, ASIMOV’S, OSC’s INTERGALACTIC MEDICINE SHOW; and LIGHTSPEED.

 

Rejected there, I aimed at my second tier magazines: DSF, BUZZYMAG, and a few others. Finally, frustrated, I sent it to AURORA WOLF. The editor there loved it, paid me and published it! (See the link above if you want to read it.)

 

This was a story I’d almost given up on – I’d sent it out the first time in March of 2011 and revised it twice. It was in a world that was sparked by an idea that Bruce Bethke had tossed out and while it took two revisions PAST the usual number I do with a typical story, it did in fact, spring from my files as ultimately published! Another piece of fiction has the same story –written in 2010, it suffered through six markets over the next year and it was ultimately published as a PODCAST by an English online YA magazine! (Cool, huh? I’m published internationally!)

 

Anyway – I continue to mine my past for present and future ideas – and Bruce Bethke recommends that same! (Tongue in cheek, of course.)

 

Resources: http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/190/do-people-really-die-from-spontaneous-human-combustion, http://www.sky-fire.tv/index.cgi/tornadoes.html

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