Q.: What do you call five writers marching in a single line through a war zone?
A.: A writers’ column
Q.: What do you call five writers marching in a single line through a war zone?
A.: A writers’ column
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
The acclaimed author on hope, science, and writing about the future.
By Ed Finn
Climate fiction, or “cli fi,” can be a dreary genre. Storytellers like to make a grim business of climate change, populating their narratives with a humorless onslaught of death, destruction, drowned monuments, and starving children. Margaret Atwood is the conspicuous exception, somehow managing to tackle the subject, including these familiar elements, with deadpan wit and an irreverent playfulness, making it both more interesting and believable. The flood is coming, her MaddAddam trilogy promises, but there is hope.Atwood’s intensely literary, human focus on environmental issues and the future of the planet is shaping a more optimistic vision of cli fi, one that sidesteps the blame games and the “will-they, won’t-they” battles over carbon emissions. Her response is clear and compelling: The planet is changing. We need creativity, ambition, and some powerful new stories to understand how we can change with it.
My colleagues and I invited Atwood to Arizona State University in November to help launch a new project about these challenges, the Imagination and Climate Futures Initiative. (Disclosure: ASU is a partner with Slate and New America in Future Tense.) Our conversation was inspired by the idea that an effective response to what Atwood calls the “everything change” will take more than better batteries and lightbulbs (though we’ll need them too). To answer the challenge, we need to think much bigger about what it means to be human in the era when we dominate every corner of this world.
Last fall, you became the first author to submit work to the Future Library project—and no one will be able to read that story until 2114.
The Future Library project is something thought up by a conceptual artist called Katie Paterson. She was approached by the Oslo Library in Norway, which is building a new facility, and it wanted a special thing. What she came up with was Future Library. A forest has been planted in Norway that will grow for 100 years. Each one of those 100 years, one author will be invited to contribute something to the future library in a sealed box. It can be one word. It can be a poem. It can be a story. It can be a novel. It can be nonfiction. There are two stipulations: No. 1, no images. No. 2, you cannot tell anybody what is inside the box.
These boxes will accumulate in a special room—the Future Library room—and people will be able to go into that room and see the titles and the authors and imagine what’s in the boxes. Meanwhile the forest is growing, and at the 100-year moment, the boxes will all be opened and enough trees will be cut from this forest to make the paper to print the Future Library books. The first person to put a box in there—their book will be a hundred years old. The last person to put it in—it will be 1 year old. You will get a continuum through 100 years of what writers have seen fit to communicate to the future.
The selecting committee will renew itself as it will have to do, and the people who will be on that final committee have not been born yet nor have their parents been born. The final authors have not been born yet nor have their parents been born, so it’s completely an unknown. It’s the kind of project you are going to either say yes to immediately because it grabs your imagination, or you’re going to say no to it immediately because you’ll not be able to see the point of writing something that will not be published in your lifetime.
Rest of the interview: http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/future_tense/2015/02/margaret_atwood_interview_the_author_speaks_on_hope_science_and_the_future.single.html
Filed under 2015, author interview
Source: http://www.sfwa.org/2015/02/2014-nebula-awards-nominees-announced/
The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America are pleased to announce the nominees for the 2014 Nebula Awards (presented 2015), nominees for the Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation, and nominees for the Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy.Awards are given in categories such as novel, novella, novelette, short story, young adult fiction, and film.
Novel
The Goblin Emperor, Katherine Addison (Tor)
Trial by Fire, Charles E. Gannon (Baen)
Ancillary Sword, Ann Leckie (Orbit US; Orbit UK)
The Three-Body Problem, Cixin Liu, translated by Ken Liu (Tor)
Coming Home, Jack McDevitt (Ace)
Annihilation, Jeff VanderMeer (FSG Originals; Fourth Estate; HarperCollins Canada)
Novella
“We Are All Completely Fine,” Daryl Gregory (Tachyon)
“Yesterday’s Kin,” Nancy Kress (Tachyon)
“The Regular,” Ken Liu (Upgraded)
“The Mothers of Voorhisville,” Mary Rickert (Tor.com 4/30/14)
“Calendrical Regression,” Lawrence Schoen (NobleFusion)
“Grand Jeté (The Great Leap),” Rachel Swirsky (Subterranean Summer ’14)
Novelette
“Sleep Walking Now and Then,” Richard Bowes (Tor.com 7/9/14)
“The Magician and Laplace’s Demon,” Tom Crosshill (Clarkesworld 12/14)
“A Guide to the Fruits of Hawai’i,” Alaya Dawn Johnson (F&SF 7-8/14)
“The Husband Stitch,” Carmen Maria Machado (Granta #129)
“We Are the Cloud,” Sam J. Miller (Lightspeed 9/14)
“The Devil in America,” Kai Ashante Wilson (Tor.com 4/2/14)
Short Story
“The Breath of War,” Aliette de Bodard (Beneath Ceaseless Skies 3/6/14)
“When It Ends, He Catches Her,” Eugie Foster (Daily Science Fiction 9/26/14)
“The Meeker and the All-Seeing Eye,” Matthew Kressel (Clarkesworld 5/14)
“The Vaporization Enthalpy of a Peculiar Pakistani Family,” Usman T. Malik (Qualia Nous)
“A Stretch of Highway Two Lanes Wide,” Sarah Pinsker (F&SF 3-4/14)
“Jackalope Wives,” Ursula Vernon (Apex 1/7/14)
“The Fisher Queen,” Alyssa Wong (F&SF 5/14)
Details at: http://www.sfwa.org/2015/02/2014-nebula-awards-nominees-announced/
O’ knitted beard
you feel so weird
strapped up against my face.
My neighbors point,
get their noses out of joint,
and say I’m out-of-place.
I’m a circus freak
but cold air can’t leak
up onto my chin.
When warm weather hits
I’ll remove this mitt
and be clean-shaven again.
Filed under 2015, poetry by author, Random acts of poetry
He threatened to give me the over / under scowl. That dreaded scowl only the most celebrated police detectives have mastered.
I said I hadn’t done anything wrong.
He said, “Talk, I hold all the high cards here.”
I told him I didn’t play poker. Or crazy eights, or even solitaire.
He gave me the over scowl. “Put up or shut up.”
“Put up what?”
He placed a mirror on the table between us. “You have thirty seconds.”
“I might if I had a watch. But you guys took it from me. What time is it?”
He tapped one nicotine stained forefinger on the looking glass. “Time’s running out, punk.”
“Can I run with it? I have an appointment, you know.”
“Look at the glass, punk.” He tapped the mirror again.
I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t look at him anymore, and the Pooh Bears and Snoopys on the walls were driving me crazy. All the real interrogation rooms were full and the only thing left was this windowless, makeshift kids’ room used by cops’ kids and perps’ kids depending on what was going down. If only the World War flying Ace knew.
I looked at the mirror. He motioned for me to lean closer to him. I hesitated, but then did what he said until I was less than a foot away.
He tapped the glass again. “Down.”
Slowly, I lowered my eyes and then face. I don’t know how he did it. The mirror must have been slightly warped in some funhouse way, but there in the middle of the mirror was my face, and below and above was his face giving me the dreaded over / under scowl.
Somewhere in the night a Sopwith Camel drones peacefully, even blissfully behind enemy lines, its pilot unaware of the Fokker and the Flying Ace about to drive him to the ground. Somewhere, that ignorant pilot still has a chance. A small, slim chance, but a chance.
Not me.
I am caught in the rapid-fire vice of the over/under scowl and I can’t break free. I can’t escape. I can only feel his piercing eyes – all four of them – ripping bullet holes in my soul. Any hope I had, like the wings of my Sopwith Camel, are now tatters and flames, consumed in the hell caused by his over / under scowl.
Filed under 2015, Random acts of prose, Story by author
I watch you sleeping /
the drugs doing all I can’t — /
except loving you.
Filed under 2015, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
SHORT STORY AWARD for NEW WRITERS guidelines
Most entries run from 1,500 – 6,000 words, but any lengths up to 12,000 words are welcome.
Held quarterly. Open to submissions in FEBRUARY, MAY, AUGUST, and NOVEMBER. Next deadline: November 30. *
Winners are announced in the May 1, August 1, November 1, and February 1 bulletins, respectively, and contacted directly one week earlier.
To submit: http://www.glimmertrainpress.com/writer/html/index2.asp
Filed under 2015, writing tip, Writing Tip Wednesday
Filed under 2015, writing tip, Writing Tip Wednesday
Filed under cartoon by author, CarToonsday