IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 470

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: Human Interplanetary Voyaging!
Current Event: http://www.foxnews.com/science/2013/04/11/nuclear-fusion-rocket-could-reach-mars-in-30-days/
Historical Background: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mars_Direct

Zubrinka Lakewood glanced at Penelope Ok.

Penelope glared back at him.

Zu said, “So, how are we supposed to get out of this?”

Aware of the cameras trained on them from all sides as well as their distance from anything she could push off of, Pen replied, “We’re supposed to work together...”

“Duh,” snapped Zu. “They want us to make nice so we can pretend to work together on our way to Mars.” He shrugged and floated slightly off kilter from Pen’s orientation.

“We’re not supposed to ‘make nice’, we’re supposed to work...”

“Yeah, I know. I was in the same class you were.”

“What was your avatar?”

Zu snorted. “Same as yours, what do you think?”

Pen snorted and flapped her hands experimentally. She floated in the opposite direction of Zu, leaving them with their heads at a ninety-degree angle. “So what are we going to do? The whole station is watching.”

Zu made a face, for a second his obnoxious self-confidence disappearing into worry. Then he said, “I could fart.”

Pen sighed, sympathy for him draining away. “This is a competition even though it’s a competition to see how well we can work together.”

“So I can work together better than you can.”

She blinked at him then reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward him, “We could fight about it...”

Names: ♀ Greece, Turkey ; ♂ Ukraine, United States
Image:
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/01/Ariane5_VA221_liftoff2.jpg/220px-Ariane5_VA221_liftoff2.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Can This Story Be SAVED? #28 “The Deadly Rings of Saturn” (Submitted 6 Times Since February 2000, Revised 2+ Times)

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, 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: 

What do you do if you’re the youngest member of the team, and everyone dies, stranding you in the rings of Saturn.

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

Cadet Tyron Thomson is stuck in his spacesuit, building up experience hours while cataloguing boring chunks of ice with his teammates. When the scoop catches an anomalous piece of extreme mass, which punctures the ship, killing everyone else, Tyron must get the sample to the main ship orbiting above the ring’s plane.

Opening Line:

“This is boring,” said Tyron Thomson.

Onward:

"His voice sounded loud inside his helmet as he picked up another ice ball from the rings of Saturn. With the pincers of his spacesuit, he held the chunk of ice up to his faceplate. 'Why do I have to do this?'”

"A voice suddenly said, “You’re the youngest cadet, that’s why.” 

"Tyron frowned. Rahjeesh was commander of this scoop mission, even though he was only twenty-one. Tyron said, “Why do I have to be in my space suit? It would be easier if I could just work shirtsleeves like you…”

"A second voice, Sarah LeTourneau, said, “How many hours of suit time do you have, Cadet?”

"Tyron rolled his eyes. They all knew he’d just started working on suit hours. You couldn’t start cadet training until you were thirteen. Then you needed one hundred and fifty hours until anyone would let you go into open space along. He had fourteen hours logged. Total.

"His helmet blipped. An image of an ice ball tumbling through space was projected onto the inside of his helmet. He watched as Harvester 17, the ship he was on, reached out and nearly caught the ice ball. The small Scoopship shuddered at the impact. A few minutes later, the scoop dropped it onto to conveyor. The belt moved it to Tyron’s work table, where under a bright, cold light, he measured it, weighed it, calculated the density, and classified it. All by hand.

What Was I Trying To Say?

Nothing, really. It was an “adventure” story for young adults that takes place in an exotic location. 

The Rest of the Story:

Tyron is alone, the chance of rescue slim at best, and the evidence that the “rock” that was captured by and ultimately destroyed the Ringscoop ship. 

End Analysis:

1. there was no real “purpose” to the story except to be entertaining.
2. the rest of the crew shouldn’t be in shirtsleeves…though that may or may not be a problems as the crew of the ISS is frequently in shirtsleeves.
3. the fact that these are “kids” with no “adult supervision may be a problem (could add a “virtual adults” or even a supervising AI (which is subsequently destroyed)
4. it starts slowly, though I was trying to build a sympathetic character
5. he’s alone, no one to work with, though contact with the ship alters that a bit
6. the universe I wrote this in was one of convenience, so it seemed shallow to me

Can This Story Be Saved?

Absolutely.

A couple of things I’m going to do. The first thing hearkens back to a promise I made to myself that I HADN’T when I wrote the first draft of this story 20 years ago. As a reader, I was tired of writers who created worlds for the sole purpose of making a point. Once the point was made, they flushed the world and never went back to it.

I wanted to create worlds so complex that I would run a number of stories in them at the same time; a PLACE that wasn’t solely a metaphor or a stone one which a writer could grind their particular or peculiar axe.

I was that writer when I wrote this, though when I revised it recently for a couple of submission attempts, I didn’t bother to place it in any of the three worlds I’ve imagined (if you’re interested, here’s a blog entry in which I give a brief outline of each: https://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2020/01/slice-of-pie-creating-alien-aliens.html). This time, I’ll place it in the earliest period of a universe in which we’re junior members (at best); I also call it my “Shattered Spheres” universe.

In my mind, placing it there suddenly gives a framework for me to work in. Certain things will change just because of where it’s taking place. The name of the exploration ship is the first thing! Other things stem directly from technology (for example, prior to learning better, I used the term “antigravity”. That’s not a legitimate term anymore; in fact, it’s poorly descriptive as well as not being legitimate. The term that IS in use is gravity modification, or gMod. While those may seem like minor changes, when I rename the support ship that will “save Tyron’s life”, it will be the SOLAR EXPLORER. Merely altering the name taps into an entire history I constructed prior after I wrote a novel and “built” the ship in my head. There are hierarchies, individuals who will be there, and technologies that I wasn’t able to tap into before. There are limitations as well, so all of “The Deadly Rings of Saturn” will have to be tweaked to fit the mold of the universe it will exist in.

That’s not a bad thing, either, but if I had placed it in any of there other three, there would have to be equivalent chances made. The thing is that, by placing it in the Shattered Spheres universe, it becomes not only a better story, but a RICHER story…one that may sell this time around!

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 469

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 horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)

H Trope: forbidden rooms
Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McMartin_preschool_trial and http://www.ipt-forensics.com/journal/volume7/j7_2_1_33.htm and http://www.sacbee.com/2011/07/21/3783838/mcmartin-preschool-fiasco-led.html

Thirty years after the infamous McMartin Preschool Incident, Tayna Hopewell’s parents buy the land the day care once stood on to build a golf equipment shop. Everything is past and even though she finds out about the lot’s history through a Google search, she doesn’t say anything.

They aren’t opening a day care!

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

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

She lights off along Manhattan Beach Boulevard, jogging toward the beach and some much-needed alone time. When she reaches the excavation site, she sees that the gate is still standing open and she figures her parents own the land, so she has every right to check things out.

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

It’s not particularly interesting until she gets to the back of the lot. It’s been built over more than once – before the infamous daycare (demolished in 1985) it was a housing development, since then The Strand Cleaners which went out of business. Now her parents are building a two-story building; the ground floor will house Hopewell’s Pro Golf; the upper story was unrented yet, but there were plenty of people interested.

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

She still can’t see much more than the far side of it. Muttering, she unrolls her towel, lays it on the ground and lays down, scooting to the edge so she can see over it clearly.

She flicks on the flashlight, holding it ahead of her and pointing down and looks carefully. At the bottom of the trench, at the edge of the cell phone’s light reach, she clearly sees a pile of bones.

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

That’s when she sees it. To one side, barely visible now, staring at her without eyes, is a small skull.

A small HUMAN skull…

Names: ♀ Slavic/Hebrew; England
Image: https://cdn.britannica.com/40/11740-004-50816EB1/Boris-Karloff-Frankenstein-monster.jpg

No Post Today -- "Miraculous Surgery" Performed In One Hour, Four Hour Recovery, Will Be WALKING Tomorrow!

 

All day Saturday with 14 month  old grandson whilst daughter (with husband as support) had surgery to repair herniated disc. (Red arrow points to where the disc slips out from between vertebrae and presses on BOTH nerve and artery, causing pain AND cutting off circulation.)

Ergo, no post.

That is all.

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 468

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: Absurdly sharp sword
Current Event: http://archaeology.about.com/od/ancientweapons/a/damascus_steel.htm, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/29/space-elevators-stronger-materials_n_3353697.html

Zahra Gourian stared up. Straight up. Into the cloudless sky. The base of the space elevator, Zulfiqar was fifteen kilometers across and had roots that extended half that down into the ground and three times that in all directions. Plastic injected sand formed a massive block anchoring the largest object ever engineered by Humanity. Where she stood with her new friend, it was still the dark before dawn. “Isn’t it blessed?” she said faintly.

Hydar Aualgeath shook his head, “Why did they name it after the Prophet’s sword?”

She looked over at him and said, “It’s symbolic.”

“Of what?”

Zahra snorted and said, “You’ve been away too long.”

“I was born in Minneapolis just like my dad. I’m as American as Taco Bell®.”

“That’s American?

“F0unded in southern California in 1962.”

She grunted and said, “I love Taco Bell."

“Me, too.”

“But you hate the Sword of the Prophet?”

“No need for Islam United to threaten the rest of us with a sword hanging over our heads.”

“The world’s been threatening us for hundreds of years!”

Hydar sighed then said, “I chose Allah not because He was stronger but because He is better than any other faith offering I have ever studied. Besides, Islam has threatened various parts of the world for just as long – we’ve proven our staying power. Now we need to prove our building power.” Zahar didn’t realize she’d clenched her fist and raised it until Hydar stared at her and softly said, “So you are in favor of killing all Humans who don’t agree with you in order to go to the stars and kill all the aliens who don’t agree with you?”

“You’re Muslim!”

“I am. But my intent isn’t to subjugate infidels, it’s to emancipate them. The same will hold true when I’m on the first ship out there.”

“You’re only fifteen,” Zahar said.

“Yeah, but I’ll be twenty-five, then thirty-five, then forty-five. Then I’ll be out there somewhere.” He gestured to the infinite depths of space. “I’ll bring the emancipation of Mohammed to the Universe.”

She stared at him then turned away, shaking her head. Without looking at him, she said, “Emancipation only allows others to enslave us – just as they’ve always done. We need to subjugate the wrong thinking of the infidel, no matter what world they come from or what their shape.”

“What are we subjecting it to?” Hydar said softly.

“The same thing the superior has always subjected the inferior to – the undefeatable logic of our faith and our lives.”

“I suppose superior technology is proof of Allah’s greatness?”

“Insha'Allah.”

He nodded sadly. “Then the Koran is unnecessary to demonstrate Allah’s greatness?

Zahar spun around, looked up into the morning sky. The sun’s rays were racing down the razor straightness of the Sword of the Prophet eventually to touch the Earth. That was the moment the Sword began to sing, and the song it sang was of power...

Names: ♀Iran, Afghanistan; ♂ Iraq, Sudan
Image:
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg

Slice of PIE Redux: “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” As SCIENCE FICTION

NOT using the Programme Guide of the 2020 World Science Fiction Convention, ConZEALAND (The First Virtual World Science Fiction Convention; 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…This story first appeared in March of 2017...

My wife and I re-watched the movie last night, “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, starring Ben Stiller. The screenplay was based on a short story of the same name, written by well-known humorist, James Thurber.

Apparently they really have nothing to do with each other, so I’m going to treat the Stiller movie as a science fiction flick.

Why SF and not Fantasy?

It involves both psychology (soft SF) and technology (hard SF) – and advances in technology and how they affect society (classic hard SF)…

The premise is how advances in technology will affect society, in this case, how the internet affects the lives of people whose employ was in a paper magazine that depended on physical film images; at its heart, the kind of SF we all enjoy reading – the book I’m reading now is an exploration of what post-humanity will be like when our psyches can be uploaded to vastly more advanced computers and how that might overtake the biological Human. John C. Wright’s COUNT TO A TRILLION is no more hard SF than Stiller’s TSLOWM.

The psychology is obvious and where in Thurber’s TSLOWM, Walter never moves from his imagination to any kind of reality at all, Stiller’s Walter begins his life lost in a sort of fantasy world, he enters the real world and begins to bring some of those fantasies into reality.

Of course, the only way he can do that is by the application of everyday technology – a combination of jets, helicopters, ocean-going vessels, cars, subways, elevators, high-altitude/low temperature gear, and eHarmony (an online dating site)…

Most importantly to me, however, is that the movie is inspiring. While I can’t say exactly why, I do know that as a writer, I tend to live in my head as Walter did. I can also say, though, that I’ve had my fair share of adventures as a missionary in Nigeria (where we experienced a coup d’état) and I helped perform a puppet show on national TV; Cameroon where we experienced an attempted coup d’état, stepped on a scorpion in the middle of the night, and came down with malaria; and Liberia where nothing of “adventure” happened except that we traveled up and down the coast and I walked along a black sand beach. I was also in Haiti for two weeks, helping to lay the foundation of an orphanage. I guess traveling with a band counts – twice – counts too…two summers running a Bible camp in the center of the Chippewa National Forest and actually SEEING wild timber wolves. Having lunch with Newbery Award-winning author Kate di Camillo. Meeting Mary Grandpre, artist of Scholastic Book’s HARRY POTTER books and a cover of TIME magazine…I have a “real” letter from Madeleine L’Engle, a response to a letter I wrote her, as well as a different one from Anne McCaffery and another from David Brin…

I was the Science Museum of Minnesota’s Teacher of the Year in 1997…

OK, so I’m not exactly an example of Thurber’s Walter Mitty; but I’m certainly not Stiller’s Walter Mitty, either. It’s Stiller’s Walter Mitty, though who is the character of a science fiction movie. While it doesn’t involve space or time travel, it does involve MIND travel as we got to see what he was imagining – saving the dog from a building about to erupt into a fireball; the guy who came out of a LIFE Magazine ad from the Himalayas to talk to Cheryl; plus a few others I can’t recall (and can’t seem to find listed anywhere). For a moment, we see what he sees – or where he goes when life isn’t going in the direction he wanted it to. Ultimately however, Walter’s – and Cheryl’s – lives are changed forever by the change from one technology to another. Moving from physical photography to digital photography as well as moving from face-to-face dating to electronic dating and electronic friendships. The MESSAGE though is that the electronic cannot exist without the physical. Someone still has to GO to the Himalayas to take a picture, whether it’s digital or on film. You still have to MEET someone in order to fall in love with them and create a future with them…

Isn’t the impact of technology on the Human what SF is all about? I think the answer is, “Yes!”

So there you have it – why I think Stiller’s SECRET LIFE OF WALTER MITTY is a science fiction film rather than a fantasy film and why it is SF in the very best of the tradition.

Image: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d2/11/e2/d211e25d9e9ea182a2912e594042d288.png

Slice of PIE: Terraforming and Alien Life – A Biochemist’s Perspective

Using the Programme Guide of the 2020 World Science Fiction Convention, ConZEALAND (The First Virtual World Science Fiction Convention), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. I will be using the events to drive me to distraction or revelation – as the case may be. The link is provided below where this appeared on Thursday, July 30, 2020 at 1800 hours (aka 6:00 pm).

Stephen Mulholland was introduced to science fiction at a young age by his father, an avid SF reader. Since getting his PhD in Biochemistry and Molecular Biophysics in 1997, Stephen has been developing a hard SF universe. With the help of many friends, and their peer-review, they’ve been writing stories in a possible — plausible — future, addressing issues from how alien ecosystems might work, to how practical space combat might be executed. Since moving to New Zealand in 2003, Stephen has also been farming and researching issues of animal cognition, morbidity/mortality, and how to improve animal welfare. He’s also been team-leader for an Urban Search and Rescue team for the last decade, and has trained in eastern and western sword arts for over 20 years.

Long, long ago, with a burgeoning family and a shrinking pocketbook, I applied to teach Remedial Science Summer School.

The class was combined 7^th and 8^th graders who had failed their respective sciences – in Minnesota Life Science and Earth Science. After a few seconds, I realized that trying to teach both disciplines in a compressed format in the same way that they had failed to grasp in the first place would be, as a member of Al-Anon said (in October of 1981), “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” (No, Einstein did NOT say this. Or write it. Or anythinged it. See the reference below.)

The group was hostile and did everything but cross their arms over their chests, stomp their feet, and say, “You’re not the boss of me!”

What to do?

I designed a class called Alien Worlds. That first class happened three decades ago, and I’ve been teaching the class for gifted and talented young people for the past 27 years during the summer. Because of the pandemic, I didn’t do it this summer, but will (hopefully) do so next summer.

At any rate, in the original remedial class, I created teams of four students, two eight graders and two seventh graders. The eighth graders would be creating the alien star system and drawing maps from various perspectives; the seventh graders  would be creating life forms to populate the planets.

Because this was a remedial science class and I didn’t have enough time to teach two separate tracks, I laid a foundation of astronomy, added planetology, and finally layers on biology – with a supposition that neither group of kids gave a rat’s sorry behind for science as it had been taught to them in the past.

I created a totally different atmosphere (so to speak) by framing the science with creativity and included cartography, art, and research – and insisting that NO ONE could snap their fingers and “poof!” stars, planets, biomes, and life forms into existence. EVERYTHING had to be within the realm of real science. This often meant arguing with students about why “cubic planets” were impossible (including, of course “accidental” segues into math, fluids, condensation, heat, and cooling…or why life on a different world would NOT allow for talking kitty cats; sexy, green, multi-breasted alien women dredged up from adolescent fantasies, or flying humans…with “accidental” detours through biochemistry, anatomy, physiology, gravity, and evolution…

While teaching that class, I also included science movies – and science fiction movies, including “Devil in the Dark” from Star Trek: The Original Series, which discussed the possibility of life based on silicon and appearing to be “rocks”; and a film I lost, but found last summer called, “Mind-Slaughter”… (which you’ll find here, I hope…yep, here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVj2mgrTtU8&feature=emb_title)

While ancient (1977, 43 years old…), it poses questions absolutely in line with what I would have expected to happen at this discussion.

In it, Humans dramatically/catastrophically terraform Venus using algae. I’ve heard and read about this for so long I can’t even tell you when I first heard it. At any rate, the Wikipedia entry, which giving details about the physical aspects of terraforming Venus (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terraforming_of_Venus#:~:text=The%20terraforming%20of%20Venus%20is,it%20suitable%20for%20human%20habitation.&text=Eliminating%20most%20of%20the%20planet's,conversion%20to%20some%20other%20form), speaks absolutely nothing to the “rightness” of doing that. Blindly. Without any kind of evaluation of if there’s even a chance of life on Venus.

Yet, we’ve been speculating on that possibility for over 200 years. (https://www.sciencenews.org/article/hope-life-venus-survives-centuries-against-all-odds)

My favorite author, CS Lewis, even postulates what, while it seems patently absurd today, the surface might be like in his novel PERELANDRA ((1943)in which Venus is covered by a planet-wide ocean that (unlike the one in SOLARIS (1961, Stanislaw Lem)) is not intelligent but covered with moveable islands. More realistically, Sarah Zettel postulates a surface and atmosphere – and lifeforms – a bit more realistically in THE QUIET INVASION (2000) and even more recently, Derek Künsken’s, THE HOUSE OF STYX (2020, serialized in ANALOG Science Fiction and Fact, March-August) – “Terraforming Venus was first proposed in a scholarly context by the astronomer Carl Sagan in 1961, although fictional treatments, such as ‘The Big Rain’ by Poul Anderson (Astounding/ANALOG, 1954), preceded it.”

“Mind-Slaughter” gives vent to the idea that “Just because we CAN, doesn’t mean we SHOULD” (which is a quote I can’t very the origin of, but anyway), maybe we’ll be able to terraform Venus someday. But should we? Even if we don’t see shining city lights, catch snippets of coherent radio transmissions, or contact a Venusian via the psychic friends network, is no proof that there’s nothing intelligent on the surface or in the skies of Venus. We are NOT the be-all and end-all of life in the universe, and despite what scientists say, it more often appears to me that they’re mouthing platitudes while still believing that if we CAN do a thing, we dang well SHOULD!

Even if we’re “absolutely certain” that “nothing could live there, certainly not life as we know it!” Especially since the only life we know is the life on Earth, and as scientists have hammered into our heads for the past hundred or so years, we aren’t that special. While at the same time, many of THEM act as if we are and they can pretty much do as we please on Earth…

Which may lead to our undoing in the long run.

References: https://quoteinvestigator.com/2017/03/23/same/#:~:text=The%20definition%20of%20insanity%20is,or%20spoke%20the%20statement%20above.
Program Book: https://sites.grenadine.co/sites/conzealand/en/conzealand/schedule
Image: https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/026/298/513/large/eldar-zakirov-eldar-zakirov-2019-the-house-of-styx-analog-cover-art-1200px.jpg?1588409959

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 467

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: Alien artifacts
Current Event: http://www.theregister.co.uk/2012/09/27/tibetan_alien_statue_discovered_by_nazis/

Hans Bonhoeffer and Sa’Niah Green pursed their lips as they leaned over the Plexiglas box protecting the ‘Pseudo-Tibetan Nazi Buddha’ under the lights of the University of Minnesota’s Weisman Art Museum.

His voice heavy with a German accent, Hans said, “Why would they carve it out of meteorite iron?”

“You’d think they’d just sell it. I’ll bet they coulda got twenty grand on ebay,” said Sa’Niah.

Hans snorted, straightening up. “Even so, it’s strange. Why would anyone go to the trouble carving it and then pretending it was collected by Himmler?”

Sa’Niah straightened up as well and looked at her friend. They were about as opposite as possible – he had blonde hair, blue eyes, almost two meters tall, lanky to the point of skinny with hands large enough to grip a basketball with just five fingers (if he cared, he was a European football fanatic). She was barely a meter and a half tall, her grandparents had come from Sudan, she was squat and round (her friends called her Black Winnie – after Winnie the Pooh) and she wanted nothing more than to play on the Minnesota Lynx.

Good thing he was gay, otherwise she’d live one frustrated life. They were also both history majors. Which reminded her, “Hans – how’s your book?”

He looked up and arched an eyebrow, “Why do you think I’m standing here with you discussing pseudo-Nazi alien artifacts?”

She snorted softly, “Because we’re best friends?”

“No, because you’re the only person I know of who’s read Harry Turtledove.” She grinned. They’d met in the Wilson Library during finals first semester of their freshman year the year before. They’d gotten into an argument over who would be able to check out the newest Turtledove novel. Ultimately Hans had won because he held the book over his head and there was no way for her to get at it. She said, “It’s a good thing you decide to share it with me at Caribou.”

He grinned at her and said, “Speaking of which.” He lifted his chin and made a motion toward Dinkytown proper.

She nodded and said, “I’ll even walk outside.”

Mock-amazed, he said, “What’s wrong? Have you contracted some spinal fungus you haven’t told me about and you are preparing to die?”

She laughed. Several other arts patrons glared at her. The Weisman wasn’t for giggling college sophomores. They headed for the exit then started up East River Parkway, heading for Southeast Fifth Street. Sa’Niah said, “So, what’s the story?”

Hans fell into one of his brooding moods. They’d almost reached Dinkytown when he said, “It’s not a story.”

“What?”

“It has to do with my family,” he said, his accent thicker than usual. She’d noticed that happened when he got emotional – which happened every time he broke up from his current love interest. She just listened and walked, huffing slightly. When he wasn’t paying attention, he took long, long strides and it was hard for her to keep up.

“What would a fake Nazi-Buddhist made out of meteorite iron have to do with your family?”

They reached the Caribou, ordered their favorites and settled in a booth that allowed him to stretch his legs before he said, “My family were Nazis.”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“My grandparents – both sides, except for one of my father’s uncles. His name was Dietrich and he was executed by the Nazis.” She didn’t know what to say. He continued, “They also dealt with the regime in antiquities.” He paused, scowling then said, “The Nazi Buddha? It’s legitimate.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I have a picture of my great-great-great grandfather holding it. And he does not look Human.”

Names: ♀ African American; ♂ Germany
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/01/Ariane5_VA221_liftoff2.jpg/220px-Ariane5_VA221_liftoff2.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Short Stories – Advice and Observation #5: Paolo Bacigalupi “& Me”

It's been a while since I decided to add something different to my blog rotation. Today I’ll start 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 one or several quotes off of which I’ll jump and connect it with my own writing experience. While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do most 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!

Without further ado, short story observations by Paolo Bacigalupi – with a few from myself…

“Short fiction seems more targeted - hand grenades of ideas, if you will. When they work, they hit, they explode, and you never forget them. Long fiction feels more like atmosphere: it's a lot smokier and less defined.”

― Paolo Bacigalupi

I first ran across his work when a YA novel came in the mail. I was on the SFWA Norton Award Committee, and in those days, seven or so of us read as many YA speculative fiction novels that came to us in the mail, then discussed them in an online forum, then agreed finally to a recommended list which the SFWA membership was SUPPOSED to vote on. That committee no longer exists because the membership mostly ignored our recommendations and voted for super star writers rather than writers who were creating superior works.

At any rate, I got a copy of his first novel, THE WINDUP GIRL (Nightshade Press, September 2009) for the Norton and while I didn’t recommend it for the award, the group did. Even I found it intriguing…

But this advice isn’t about writing novels! It’s about writing short stories, and Bacigalupi tested the waters, so to speak, with two shorter stories. The first, “The Calorie Man” was a novelette that appeared in the September 2005 issue of F&SF followed a year later by “Yellow Card Man”  in the December 2006 issue of ASIMOV’S.

During an interview with Allan Vorda in 2010 for the online journal, Rain Taxi, Bacigalupi said this about how these stories were created out of an idea for the novel: “[The stories] are precursors for characters and themes in TWG. When did these the ideas coalesce into the larger work? (PB) Actually, the novel's seed came first. I created a short story that just refused to work. When I showed it to a friend of mine, she commented that it felt like a dwarf star, with too many characters and too many plotlines all jammed against one another. It was more like a novel, compressed, and needed to be a novel, uncompressed…I went back to [it] and started harvesting interesting bits. ‘The Calorie Man’ [explored] the GMOs and peak-oil world—without anything else getting in the way. ‘Yellow Card Man’…[was] a character study, and fill in the back-story of one of the characters…It looked like there were at least a dozen other possible stories just waiting to be mined [from that story]…from the initial story idea to…the book…it was something like five or six years.”

He contends that these two stories were “…hand grenades of ideas…” that, in his case, exploded into a novel that catapulted him into SF “stardom”.

Whew! “hand grenades of ideas” is a tall order for your average short story!

Oops…we’re not talking about average stories here, though. We’re talking earthshaking stories. Paradigm-shifting stories.

Stories like “The Tides of Kithrup” (ANALOG May 1981), in which a Dolphin-Human crew intentionally strands their starship at the bottom of an ocean that has deadly metallic components that will kill the crew in the long-term. They have to repair their ship while powerful aliens orbiting the planets fight over the chance to take Humans, Dolphins, Chimpanzees, Gorillas, and Dogs and genetically “finish” them…

Stories like “Weyr Search” (ANALOG October 1967) where a story that begins like a medieval fantasy with dragons and castles turns out to be story about teleporting, genetically engineered fire-breathing intelligences battling to keep a Human colony safe from a space-borne mycorrhizoid.

Stories like “Diving Into the Wreck” (ASIMOV’S December 2005) in which a wreck diver (like scuba divers who do this into sunken ships) “dives” into derelict star ships, researches them, then takes other “divers” into them. She finds “an enormous, incredibly old, Earth-made ship built before Faster Than Light technology this far from Earth. She hires a group of divers to explore the wreck with her; but the ship won’t give up its treasures without a steep cost…” Old idea, new paradigm.

So – my challenge has always been personifying the “hand grenade”. I have ideas – Humans vs Plantimals; drastically genetically engineered Humans in the clouds of a puffy Jupiter gas giant; interstellar union of aliens whose entrance into the union is based on how “giving” a civilization is; but I haven’t been consistently able to take that grenade and load it with a situation that illustrates the foundational problem of the story.

My goal then is to reframe “May They Rest” and cast it (in light of the current political environment”) into a lost graveyard in Vietnam. Another goal will be to create a “brother story” in the skies of River. Also, I’ve got the background of a story that deals with someone who is accidentally injured and is unable to be an effective member of an advanced alien society – and a Human who suggests that while he may be handicapped in the main culture and about to be terminated; he might have the mind of a king in a parallel society of animals closely related to them…

Anyway, as always, I’ll keep you posted.

References: https://shortform.livejournal.com/33840.html, https://www.raintaxi.com/the-author-with-the-unpronounceable-name-an-interview-with-paolo-bacigalupi/
Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9f/22/3b/9f223b1e57a36e14db3eb13715fbe3f9.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 466

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 horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)

H Trope: Cobweb jungle
Current Event: http://www.mnn.com/earth-matters/wilderness-resources/stories/spiders-in-pakistan-encase-whole-trees-in-webs

“I love spiders,” said Farzana Niazi.

Byron Neson shuddered and said at the same time, “I hate spiders.”

Farzana shot him an irritated look and said, “Why would you volunteer to come on this trip, then?”

Byron blushed and turned away, saying, “My therapist said that I needed to face my fears.”

Farzana shook her head, “Oh, I understand the concept – it’s just that there must be a…safer place to face it.” She gestured to the forest covered by the webs of a dozen different spiders. “Who knows what kind of spiders are on all those trees?”

He shuddered, “Thanks for helping me overcome my fear.”

She relented, “Fine – there’s obvious evidence that they’re not carnivorous.”“How would you know that?”

“Well, first of all, there are a zillion of the things and they’re all still alive. If they were carnivorous, they’d be eating each other.”

He sniffed, “I pretty much agree.”

“What other reason could there be?”

“An absence of their own kinds of food.”

“What?”

“Maybe they don’t like eating each other – maybe the different ones have different prey and right now they’re starving to death and waiting to drop on to something like…me, maybe.”

She shook her head and set up the capture traps. Each one had a ring of water in the center suspended from a Teflon, “no-stick” cone. Thirsty spiders would be drawn by the water then slide down the funnel through a scanning micro-camera with a computer chip that would identify each one and count them.

“It’s getting dark,” Byron said.

“Duh. That’s when the spiders are most active. They don’t sleep like us,” Farzana said.

“We’ll be heading back soon, right?”

She gestured at the wagon he was pulling and said, “What’s it look like you?”

He bit his lower lip then said, “So one trap for each of six trees?” He pointed at six nearby trees and counted. “So we should be able to leave in a couple…”

“Don’t be silly! What kind of sample accuracy would I get if I just took from the trees in one section?”

“A sensible one?” Overhead, Byron was sure he heard the webs rustle, as if something were moving around more than usual. A gentle breeze blew across the flooded land from off the Indian Ocean.

“No, a sample that would get me laughed out of grad school.”

He grunted and went with her as she tugged him along after her. They continued to set the traps, moving deeper into the web-shrouded forest. The sun set behind roiling clouds on the horizon, promising more rain even as the monsoon season came to an end.

“Are we there yet?” he asked.

“We’re not there,” Farzana said irritably. Overhead, the tent shivered like something was settling in for a night’s sleep. She didn’t appear to hear it.

Byron did.

Clearly.

He said, “We need to go now.”

“We’ll go when I say it’s time.”

The rattling overhead increased and Byron said, “How long has it been since these things have eaten?”

She shrugged as she set out and armed the last device and stood up, arching her back, fists in the small. Byron couldn’t help but ogle for a moment. Something moved over his head in the tent, making a sound like tearing crepe paper.

This time Farzana looked up and said, “That’s an odd sound. I’ve never...”

Names: ♀ Pakistani, Pashtoon; ♂ English, Spanish
Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-arXKTiwzTybeiZ-IjR8P9j_aP2vqKXJulRCqqk_e42EoyXriDrQffp-dV_b96wQqLf5Y-M9XYpYkS4Lpz0PJvQcjGfHXS3M8QSPWCq9l9UURqlah0AR2TAlNeS4yX_NR2arOLIZVuY/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg