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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Observations from Atop the Slushpile]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=100&amp;PID=99&amp;title=observations-from-atop-the-slushpile#99</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Observations from Atop the Slushpile<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:10am<br /><br /><b>Observations from Atop the Slushpile<br>by Robert J. Santa<br></b><br>Opening a small press has been a fascinating experience for me, and I have yet to see one of my books in print. When I first created the timetable for getting Ricasso Press off the ground, I thought I was going a bit too slowly. In hindsight, still with no proofs back from the printer, I may find myself scrambling in a few months. Nevertheless, creating a website, determining pricing, marketing, artwork...these have all been challenging and rewarding at the same time.<br><br>Yet no part of this experience has been more invaluable to me as a writer than my role as editor. Throughout the course of an open call for submissions to a dragon-themed anthology, I received just over 400 manuscripts. Throughout the reading process, I learned some important lessons any writer should hold dear:<br><br><b>EDITORS DON'T READ EVERY WORD</b><br>A promise I made to myself was to read from start to finish each and every manuscript. I know all too well the hard work a writer puts into crafting not just the story but the individual segments that make it up. It's not just scenes broken down into paragraphs; it's also single sentences or phrases or perhaps even a solitary word that can make the difference between being bland and exploding off the page. If I found myself skimming the story, I would blink hard, refocus, and go back and do it again.<br><br>This was a promise I quickly broke. Once again, in retrospect, I think about the books I've bought. I skim parts of those as well. Why wouldn't I think the same would apply to the writing I didn't buy? Pie in the sky hopes, perhaps. I take pride in the fact that of those 400 submissions I didn't get through less than ten, though I suffered. It was easy for me to see how editors would look at a page or two and make decisions based on those few hundred opening words. I was convinced some of those stories with terrible openings had gold in the middle or end. They didn’t, to a one.<br><br>Lesson learned: hook the reader. I've spoken of this before, yet it was not hammered into my writing philosophy more than in recent months. It follows that once a great opening scene grabs the reader's attention, something must follow that would make the reader want to continue through the middle and on to the conclusion. The hook, it turns out, isn't solely located in the first few pages. Perhaps there's another term to reeling in the reader once grabbed (heck, maybe "reelin' 'em in" is it). It is officially now the most important part of my writing, and I will focus all my energies on it.<br><br><b>BEING ORIGINAL PAYS DIVIDENDS</b><br>I can see why some markets refuse to see certain types of stories. Vampire stories, for example. I've written precisely two vampire stories in my entire life. The first one was a centuries-long battle between a "good guy" vampire and a more traditional one. It also read like it was centuries-long, which is why it's never seen the light of day. The second was from the perspective of an addicted vampire victim. That piece has been published twice and must mean something about the vampire genre. The concept came out of the blue as I was struggling to write a piece about addiction for a themed market. Strangely enough, that market rejected the story; it was a couple of horror markets that must see thousands of vampire stories that bought it.<br><br>When I went out there to write a "vampire story," I came away with a loser. When I flipped the idea on its head and wrote a story about a woman gripped by addiction that also happened to have vampires in it, it sold.<br><br>Four hundred stories about dragons is a lot of dragons. I saw less than fifty non-traditional ideas. A select few stories made it into the table of contents with traditional dragon ideas based solely on the quality of the writing. The rest of them received a nice note thanking the authors for their effort. Those fifty jumped at me, and the well-crafted ones got an acceptance. Originality is like that car in every small town that has buttons glued to it bumper-to-bumper with a plastic cow riding on the roof. Five thousand vehicles pass you on the highway without so much as a second glance from you, but that cow car makes you look every time.<br><br>So before I put the time and energy into creating a story, I've learned to sit back and examine it for originality. Is it a plot standard? If so, is there a way I can flip it around? If I can't, then I'm going to file the idea and move on to something else. There's a hundred unsold stories in my writing collection; it's a virtual lock that three-quarters of them failed on concept alone. Why add another one?<br><br><b>SOMETIMES IT'S POSSIBLE TO BE TOO ORIGINAL</b><br>I'll preface these remarks by praising the individual authors who submitted the manuscripts I'll loosely reference. I don't always write every idea that pops into my head; there's a file with dozens of fully-fleshed concepts moldering on my computer to prove it. Some of the ideas seem too weak to me. Some more seem like standard plots. Some few are just too odd for me to figure out how to make them work.<br><br>The dragon-themed anthology produced a ton of fire-breathing, bat-winged, armor-scaled monsters. But it also gave me the opportunity to see an intelligent dragon trying to break the Guinness World Record for road destruction by eating its way along the highway, gobbling asphalt. Still another dragon was hired to be an intergalactic taxi cab driver. Another philosophically led its race to a war on Heaven's gates themselves.<br><br>Where these concepts failed was to make me empathize with the characters because they were a bit too off the beaten path. In all three stories I mentioned, the writing was stellar (no pun intended to the science fiction one). The plots - while maybe not complete in two out of three of those stories - at least had a beginning, middle and end. It's more than I could have done if someone said to me "write a story about a dragon that eats road surfaces."<br><br>But that may have also hampered the story in that there was nothing in it to which I could relate. I found myself not particularly caring about how the plot was going to get resolved or how the characters would react/survive/change/grow. Which means I'm taking away a subtle lesson in critical analysis: original stories are great, but the editor must see something in it familiar or else it might seem unapproachable to his or her readership.<br><br><b>MOOD TRUMPS SKILL</b><br>Some of the stories I read caused me agony. Not the please-make-the-bad-writing-stop kind but the kind where I had to send a rejection for a really good story that had a fatal flaw. I put myself in the role of writer when reading these on-the-fence pieces and tried to envision the rewriting process. If I felt it could be done without mutilating the story's core concept, I made the request. If I felt the fundamental reason why the author wrote the piece would be changed, I rejected it. Without doubt, these were all well-written stories for they wouldn't have gotten any consideration at all if they weren't. If, if, if.<br><br>In retrospect, I can't help but think some of those decisions were hampered by how I felt about other things. Quarreling kids, dirty dishes needing attention upstairs, the washing machine buzzer going off, ringing phone, feet hurt from being at work all day and all night, coffee cup is empty, wine glass is empty, belly is empty. Pick one or more. That little nudge could be all it takes to turn an acceptance into a rejection. Heck, maybe I'd just read ten or twelve manuscripts and rejected them all and had an unfortunately negative momentum built up.<br><br>An editor accepting a story is personal preference, first, foremost, and always. Hopefully personal issues don't interfere with the business of writing, but we all know that isn't the case. As a writer, all I can do when I receive a rejection is to not dwell on it. If I believe the story is polished to the best of my abilities, I log the rejection and response time and get that manuscript back into circulation. I learned that lesson a long time ago; sending out nearly 400 rejections only reinforced it.<br><br><b>WRITE TO YOUR TARGET AUDIENCE</b><br>Does that mean you're writing to an editor specifically or to that editor's readership? Well, both. The editor is making decisions based on what he or she feels the market would appreciate reading. For this, you need to read copies of the publication to get a feel for writing style, story plots, character types and so forth. It is a writing maxim that has been around for decades and will never change.<br><br>But what about the individual editors? In this day of instant information, it's possible to investigate editors a little. Are they also writers with stories available for viewing on the Web? This could give you an idea of their writing style, and you could try to emulate it. I did this with a writing contest in which I had read the final judge's work. My story took first place because I felt I knew the judge's preferred plots and style and submitted a piece that was similar. Do they have a bio somewhere that gives you some clue as to their likes and dislikes? To an editor who was an avid card player, I sold a story where the main characters are engaged in a card game. To another editor who plays masters-level chess, I sold a story where the main characters are engaged in a chess match. To yet another editor who I knew from his blog was anti-Government, I sold a story about a modern, post-secession United States. All of those stories had been rejected by other editors more than once.<br><br>Did I fall victim to this as an editor as well? You betcha. One author submitted a story that wasn't quite right for the anthology, but I loved her style. It reminded me of Giambattista Basile, an Italian fairy tale writer long before the Brothers Grimm. In my rejection I let this author know I was a sucker for Italian fairy tales (read Basile if you get the chance, and you'll understand how Italian fairy tales differ from Grimm, Andersen and others). Two weeks later another submission from this author showed up focused on two things: dragons and Italian storytelling. Similarly, I've mentioned on forums ad nauseum how strongly I feel about how Ray Bradbury's fantasies focused so deeply on the characters first and the plot second. Perhaps the author that submitted a Bradbury-esque tale to my anthology noticed these remarks, and if he did, I give him the utmost respect for targeting me. I bought both of those above-mentioned stories because I liked them. Me, I liked them. I hope my readership does as well, but in at least one of those cases I know the story was aimed squarely at me and no one else.<br><br>Lesson learned is a no-brainer: if the editor likes the story, it'll get bought. Does it have to be perfect? That would certainly help, yet as a writer I've always felt an editor's job is to edit, to make as best as possible a writer's work. I strongly feel that a moderately-written story aimed directly at a market or an editor (maybe both) will hit its target better than a superbly-crafted one that is less centered on the editor's preferences. In fact, between the better story and the better aimed one, I give them even odds.<br><br>So how do I wrap this up? As a writer, I've been given the opportunity to see what four hundred other authors are doing. I highly recommend this practice to any writer, if you can do it. What I can impart along with the above concepts is this blunt statement: there's a lot of bad writing out there. As long as you're not part of it, you'll get published. Knowing which of the two camps your beloved story falls into is critical to its success. I'd like to say I never spent a minute of my life spinning my wheels on my stories that stunk. I can't, but I'm proud to report there are dozens (egad, hundreds?) of terrible stories that I've written which have never been sent to an editor. Critical analysis of your own work is the hardest part of writing. Good luck with it.<br><br>As an editor, though, I hope I've done some small service to my fellow writers by giving you some inside information as to my likes and dislikes and the process as a whole. Perhaps it will mean an acceptance in the not-too-distant future. And please, the next time I make a call for submissions, I beg you not to send me four hundred Italian fairy tales.<br><br><font size="1">Copyright 2007, Robert J. Santa</font>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:10:41 +0000</pubDate>
   <guid isPermaLink="true">http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=100&amp;PID=99&amp;title=observations-from-atop-the-slushpile#99</guid>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : On Hating Role-Playing Games]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=99&amp;PID=98&amp;title=on-hating-roleplaying-games#98</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> On Hating Role-Playing Games<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:09am<br /><br /><b>On Hating Role-Playing Games<br>by Robert J. Santa<br></b><br>I will be the first to admit it: I'm a dork. I played role-playing games long before they came into the mainstream. I was devoted, in a way that seems obsessive to outside observers.<br><br>Throughout our gaming sessions I also taught myself the craft of writing. I found they would go hand in hand, as I was the Moderator of the games, never a Player. I would build the world, create the adventures, try to give some cohesion to the action that seemed the central focus. It was not enough to throw dice; I wanted to tell a story. It would take me weeks to fashion an adventure that made sense, something that had a beginning, a middle and an end.&nbsp;<br><br>So I can understand how some editors would feel that fantasy fiction could "read like a gaming session." I have had rejections come back with that line attached. Some markets have a checklist form letter, and sandwiched between "not enough conflict" and "characters seem one-dimensional" is a reference to role-playing games.<br><br>I hate it.<br><br>I have never written a story with a role-playing session in mind. Sure, there might be a hero who carries a big sword. There might also be a young wizard or a crafty cutpurse. But there has never - not once - been a semi-immortal Elven archer, a taciturn Dwarven warrior wielding an axe, banded armor, a halfling, or worse yet, a half-orc. Not once, in more than twenty years of writing.&nbsp;<br><br>Why is that? Could it be that writing about those subjects would be clearly derivative of RPGs? Sorry, it's not. It's quite the opposite: role-playing games are derivative of fantasy fiction.<br><br>There's no other way they could be. It is so obvious Gary Gygax (the main creative force behind D&amp;D) based his game on the <i>Lord of the Rings</i> writings that I'm surprised Tolkien's estate didn't sue him. The only difference between <i>D&amp;D</i> and LotR is that wizards are not permitted to wield swords (and who can picture Gandalf without Glamdring?).&nbsp;<br><br>Gygax needed a familiar base upon which to set the rules of his new game. He turned to the kind of writing that's been around for decades: sword &amp; sorcery and high fantasy. He created professions to make it simple for gamers to identify with their characters; in short, he pigeonholed the way players were supposed to behave. The fighters were easy. They could be anything from princes in shining armor to barbarians. So, too, were the wizards, as they were merely vessels for magical energy. Add priests that were basically Knights Templar and thieves that were variations of Bilbo and the Gray Mouser and he had 90% of what anyone would want to play covered.<br><br>With this foundation in place, Gygax launched a game that affected the lives of thousands of people. Other companies jumped on the bandwagon, and within a few decades there were dozens of other gaming systems. All of them ventured over ground trampled flat by their predecessors, to the point where little of the "new" material released in the last fifteen years is original.<br><br>Yet through it all, fantasy fiction has thrived. Its ebb and flow is tied with pop culture. From the <i>Conan</i> movies to <i>LotR, D&amp;D</i> (and company) have been the link. RPGs have had their high and low times yet have never disappeared from the public consciousness.<br><br>RPGs are so pervasive that it is impossible to exclude them from any discussion of speculative fiction. Many writers have had success writing books based upon <i>D&amp;D</i> and its offshoots. These are intentionally derivative of the game. They have heroic figures, quests, specific monsters, and a fixed world that is familiar to gamers.&nbsp;<br><br>But if there was no <i>D&amp;D</i>, these stories would still be epic fantasy. The heroes would not necessarily be questing after the Rod of Lordly Might, but it could be something similar such as the Staff of Law (which is, after all, what Thomas Covenant and High Lord Elena quested after in the novel of the same name by Stephen R. Donaldson). There would never have been an established fan base for the <i>Dragon Lance</i> novels, but they would still be fun stories.&nbsp;<br><br>It is difficult to receive feedback on a thoughtfully crafted story that implies it is a journal of what happened at Saturday night's gaming session. In fact, it's doubly insulting: to the gamers for being thought of as uncreative, and the writer for the same reason. There was a time in my past when I would curse and rant and rail at the sky. In my older years I have learned that editors perceive stories as we all do: in our own ways. One editor's RPG derivation may be another's exciting sword and sorcery. The best we can do as writers is log the rejection, print out another copy of the manuscript, and mail it to the next market on the list. &nbsp;<br><br>As a player, I love role-playing games. Given the opportunity - right now - to jump into a game with a half dozen dedicated players, I would play every week. As the Moderator, I would create the worlds, the adventures, the stories through which the players would travel. We would let the characters grow in a setting both mythic and fantastic. It would be wonderful.<br><br>As a writer, I hate role-playing games for the obstructions they put in the way of my craft. Merely because I have an elf and a dwarf wandering the countryside does not mean that they jumped off the pages of a D&amp;D campaign. There might be an actual story involved. Heck, there might even be a story that came from a <i>D&amp;D</i> campaign. But if editors can't get past the idea of RPGs = bad, then high fantasy is doomed.<br><br>So I will continue to write my stories of adventure and swordplay, put them in envelopes, and roll the dice. So to speak.<br><br><br>From the Other Side of the Slush<br>Editorial Addendum &nbsp;<br>by Daniel E. Blackston<br><br>As en editor who specializes in heroic fantasy fiction, I'm always on the lookout for good RPG-inspired stories. I, too, spent a considerable part of my adolescence playing AD&amp;D (or variants thereof) and, as a veteran gamer, I'm partial to adventure fantasy that utilizes the archetypes and mythos of RPG's.&nbsp;<br><br>However, I have rejected far more RPG-inspired stories than I have accepted, and that is true for any other editor in the speculative fiction industry. It is important for writers who work in RPG-inspired milieus to keep a few key points in mind. As with any rules of thumb, your mileage may vary.<br><br>If you're determined to write and publish RPG-inspired fantasy here are a few pointers:<br><br><b>1) Put the story first.</b><br><br>In a game-session, minutiae like counting the number of available torches, checking the player-map again and again, or referring to in-party lore is part of the gaming experience. It's fun; it's crucial to having a good gaming session. In a story or novel this information is a dead bore. Remember, the reader at large is interested in the events of the story, not the day to day trivia of your gaming sessions. So, therefore, avoid needless exposition and avoid blocking your written scenes like gaming turns. &nbsp;<br><br><b>2) Create unique enemies.</b><br><br>I have bounced many an RPG-inspired story due to the flatness of its villains. It is a problem even in many RPG sessions, that the enemies are more or less cardboard "baddies" to be sliced and diced by the players. When this happens in fiction it spells death for your story or novel.&nbsp;<br><br><b>3) Combat is the meat of an RPG session, but it is the dressing of a story of novel.</b><br><br>This rule of thumb seems self-explanatory, but it may be more tricky than it first appears. Action is certainly an important parts of any story or novel, but lengthy descriptions of combat technique, weapons, wounds, blood splatters, and corpses is usually much more exciting for the writer to write than for the reader to read. Combat scenes should be highly polished, and they should maintain consistency with the surrounding story.&nbsp;<br><br><b>4) Avoid lengthy history and geography lessons.</b><br><br>While your fantasy-gaming world is undoubtedly fascinating to you from the bed of every haunted creek to the tip of every enchanted mountain, most of your readers will be interested in your world as it applies to the characters and events of your story. And, no, it's not enough that the heroes of your story are riding past "Alanzo's Mystical Dome-Fortress" – that's not an excuse to give the audience a lecture on its history. Even if the characters are going there, readers should receive information on the setting much as the characters in the story, who are very unlikely to have a history lesson on route to their adventures.<br><br><b>5)	Never refer directly to rules or descriptions contained in RPG manuals.&nbsp;</b><br><br>That means – never. 	<br><br>While I can't guarantee that integrating the above guides into your narrative technique will greatly increase your chances of selling RPG-inspired fantasy, I believe that it will.&nbsp;<br><br>Daniel E. Blackston]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:09:40 +0000</pubDate>
   <guid isPermaLink="true">http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=99&amp;PID=98&amp;title=on-hating-roleplaying-games#98</guid>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Writing the Follow-up Novel]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=98&amp;PID=97&amp;title=writing-the-followup-novel#97</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Writing the Follow-up Novel<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:08am<br /><br /><b>Writing the Follow-up Novel -- You Aren’t Really a Sophomoreby Richard Cox<br>Author of The God Particle: A Novel</b><div><b><br></b><p><img src="http://sfreader.com/images/god-particle-article.jpg" height="177" width="120" border="0" align="left" />You've heard this story before.</p><p>The writing bug comes early. You’re a kid with ideas, with a desire to get them on paper, and one day you realize that you’re not ever going to stop. You also realize that some people actually make a living writing books, and since you’re going to be doing it anyway, why not get paid for the effort? You figure you’ll write a novel, find an agent to represent it, and land a fat publishing contract. Use the advance to pay for your mortgage, give yourself plenty of time to write another book. And so on.</p><p>For most of us it isn't that easy.</p><p>What you actually do is write a novel (a science thriller, in my case) in the evenings after work, spend a year or so on it, and then submit it to ten agents. You’re rejected by all of them, so you rewrite the book and submit it to a different list of ten. All of those agents reject you, too. You keep trying. After forty or so rejections, you begin to suspect this novel isn't going to sell. You've spent thousands of hours on it and the last thing you want to do is shove it into a drawer, but you don’t have any other ideas.</p><p>Then one day, out of the blue, you think of one. You sit down and write and realize how much your skills have improved. The words pour out of you. A year later you've written the first draft of a second novel (<i>Rift</i>, in my case) and you eagerly submit the thing to agents, knowing this time you've got a winner.</p><p>More rejections. Lots of them. You consider giving up, but by now you’re determined more than ever to succeed. And finally, miraculously, an agent agrees to represent you. He asks for a couple more rewrites, but that’s okay. You've come this far. You’ll do anything to break into print.</p><p>After several months you’re done with the manuscript. Your agent submits it to publishers, and all you get is more rejections.</p><p>But then one day you answer the phone, and it’s your agent (what a couple of magical words those are -- “your agent”) announcing that an editor is interested in your novel. He tells you to expect a call from this editor. During the call, your agent says, you might be asked if you’re willing to write another science thriller. This, you realize, is because the editor might be thinking of a <i><span style="font-style:italic">two book deal</span></i>, so you eagerly say yes, you would be happy to write another science thriller.</p><p>There’s only one small problem -- you don’t have any ideas for another science thriller. The inspiration for a novel is an elusive thing, and it doesn't come around often. But this is your writing career on the line, so you’d better think of another idea, and fast.</p><p>During my agent search, over the course of eight years, I only had a couple of ideas that could support a novel. And yet, after speaking to the prospective editor, I went home, hopped on the Internet, and within a couple of hours had come up with the basic premise for my second novel, <i><span style="font-style:italic">The God Particle</span></i>.</p><p>How did I manage to do this? I suppose I owe some of my success to Tim Berners-Lee. In 1980, while working as an independent contractor at CERN (a physics facility in Europe), Lee proposed the idea that became the World Wide Web, a now ubiquitous network of information that allows users to research information in a nonlinear, associative way. You read about an idea, click on hypertext links to other, related ideas, and pretty soon you end up learning about subjects that weren't even on the radar when you started.</p><p>This is exactly what I did. Ever since I was a kid I've been interested in science and spirituality, the different ways they describe the world around us. I’m also interested in the amazing abilities of the human brain. So I went to Google and typed in something like “god science brain universe consciousness.” I don’t remember exactly what sites and pages this search returned, but every time I visited a page I learned something new. Part of what I read was pure speculation, but a lot of essays were written about hard scientific research. Everything I found positioned the subject matter a slightly different way, or mentioned something completely new, and so I clicked and I clicked and I clicked some more. The World Wide Web never looked so good to me.</p><p>I began working on the new book, and a few days later received the most important phone call of my life. I was having lunch in an Italian restaurant when my agent called to tell me that my novel, <i><span style="font-style:italic">Rift</span></i>, had been purchased by the prospective editor. This is a moment that can only be experienced once, and it is special. I don’t think I had a coherent thought the rest of the day.</p><p>The book deal in fact was for two books, so it was a good thing I’d already begun writing the next one. In the days that followed, many people asked if I was worried about being paid for a book that hadn't even been written yet. But when you've spent your entire adult life working toward publication, seeing that dream become reality drives you like never before. You find energy reserves that until then had been hidden from you. You’re suddenly able to see the positive side of every situation. You’re essentially born anew.</p><p>But you still have to sit down and write the book. You have to write every day in which it’s realistically possible -- even some days when it isn't. When you’re finished, you have to write it again, and again, and when your editor sends it back requesting significant changes, you realize how fortunate you are to have such a talented person involved in the creative process. You don’t worry about the advance on an unwritten work because by now you've written a couple of novels (you aren't really a sophomore), and you know you can do it again.</p><p>And miracle of miracles, the second one turns out better than the first. Earns rave reviews. You only hope someone will buy the darn thing.</p><p>In the meantime you've written a third one and are sketching ideas for a fourth. It’s what you've always wanted, even if it hasn't taken the exact form you expected.</p><p>You’re a writer.</p><p>Copyright © 2005 Richard Cox&nbsp;&nbsp; </p><p><img src="http://sfreader.com/images/richard-cox.jpg" border="0" align="left" /><b><span style="font-weight:bold">Richard Cox</span></b> is the author of the new book <i><span style="font-style:italic">The God Particle</span></i> (Published by Del Rey; May 2005; $13.95US/$21.00CAN; 0-345-46285-8) as well <i><span style="font-style:italic">Rift</span></i>. He lives in <font  ="" size="2" face="Verdana">Tulsa<font  size="2" face="Verdana">, <font  ="" size="2" face="Verdana">OK<font size="2" face="Verdana">, and is currently working on another novel. </font></font></font></font></p><p><font  ="" size="2" face="Verdana"><font  size="2" face="Verdana"><font  ="" size="2" face="Verdana"><font size="2" face="Verdana">Formore information, please visit the author's website at <a href="http://www.richardcox.net" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">www.richardcox.net</a>.</font></font></font></font></p></div>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:08:24 +0000</pubDate>
   <guid isPermaLink="true">http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=98&amp;PID=97&amp;title=writing-the-followup-novel#97</guid>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Villains]]></title>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Villains<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:05am<br /><br /><b>Villains<br>by Christopher Stires<br></b><br>The climax of our story has arrived. &nbsp;The road of trials has left our hero scarred and battered but still standing. &nbsp;The stakes are now, at last, clearly defined. &nbsp;Failure means the loss of their galaxy … their country … their beloved … their cat, Sabrina … or whatever treasure the characters are after. &nbsp;Only the villain can stop our hero from succeeding. &nbsp;<br><br>Will good triumph over evil or will the bad guys win? &nbsp;<br><br>The question: Do we-the reader, the audience-care? &nbsp;<br><br>The answer: Not as often as we should.<br><br>Unfortunately, most of the time, the villain is a one-dimensional character that the hero defeats as if walking through a wall of tissue paper. &nbsp;We know the hero will win and their victory is therefore diminished. &nbsp;Also lessened is the pleasure in the short story, novel or film.<br><br>So here's the trick. &nbsp;After developing a well rounded, sympathetic and memorable hero (or heroes), create a villain that makes us afraid for that character. &nbsp;We want the reader to be asking how can the hero conquer or overcome this individual? &nbsp;We want the ending not to be a forgone conclusion. &nbsp;We want the audience to be on the edge of their seats as the story concludes. &nbsp;<br><br>A well-created villain can increase the enjoyment of a story a thousand-fold. &nbsp;And, more often than not, when done well, will be the character that is remembered long after the tale is finished. &nbsp;Quick, who were the heroes who battled Dracula? &nbsp;Name one, just one, good guy who fought Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) in the Nightmare movies or Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) in Blue Velvet.<br><br>These villains blew the heroes off the page and screen.<br><br>In Lonesome Dove, Larry McMurtry created incredible three-dimensional characters. &nbsp;I thoroughly enjoyed being in the company of Gus, Call, Newt, Lorena, Pea Eye and the other members of the Hat Creek outfit. &nbsp;I liked these people. &nbsp;Then the renegade, Blue Duck, appeared. &nbsp;The stakes jumped up several notches. &nbsp;I was suddenly afraid for the people I had come to know. &nbsp;It was a book I could not put down until the last page.<br><br>My wife Ann's favorite novel is To Kill a Mockingbird. &nbsp;She reads it once a year. &nbsp;Harper Lee's characters are wonderful and real. &nbsp;Who would not enjoy being in the company of Atticus, Scout, and Jem? &nbsp;But also inhabiting their world is Bob Ewell. &nbsp;A deadly snake in the midst of the Depression-era Southern garden. &nbsp;<br><br>In William Goldman's Marathon Man, the Nazi dentist, Doctor Christian Szell, captures Babe, our hero, and asks him, "Is it safe?" &nbsp;At that moment, I broke into a sweat because I knew that even if Babe survived this man, he would never be the same. &nbsp;Little did I realize how bad the encounter would truly be. &nbsp;If I had only known, I might have put the book down. &nbsp;Poor Babe. &nbsp;This is one of my favorite novels.<br><br>All right, folks, get ready. &nbsp;Pencils sharpened? &nbsp;Electronic notepads booted up? &nbsp;Cassette players recording? &nbsp;<br><br>Because here we go.<br><br>The first rule for creating an unforgettable villain is: There are no rules. &nbsp;None. &nbsp;Nada. &nbsp;Not a one. &nbsp;<br><br>Yep, and that's what makes them such a cool character. &nbsp;Villains can follow the rules, break the rules, make up their own rules, or all of the above. &nbsp;They can be a force of nature; they can be man-made. &nbsp;They can be an authority or an outlaw. &nbsp;They can be utterly brilliant; they can deeply psychotic; they can be dumber than a box of rocks. &nbsp;Sometimes they will not have a single redeeming quality. &nbsp;Sometimes they will be sympathetic and even admirable. &nbsp;<br><br>Villains only have one trait in common with other villains. &nbsp;They stand between the hero and their goal.The shark in Peter Bentley's Jaws and the giant worms in Tremors are force-of-nature villains. &nbsp;They are straight-ahead, no-sympathy destroyers. &nbsp;People are lunch to them and no more. <br><br>"The alien from Alien (is a favorite villain)," said Allen Steele, two-time Hugo winner and author of Coyote and American Beauty. "Reproduces inside living organisms. Has acid for blood. &nbsp;Can hide in almost any dark corner. &nbsp;So tough that, even if you blow it out the airlock, it manages to survive. &nbsp;And it just keeps coming at you."<br><br>Because of the way they are portrayed, I would also include Randall Flagg (aka the Dark Man) in Stephen King's The Stand, the Super Posse in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and the big rig truck in Steven Spielberg's first film, Duel, as forces of nature.<br><br>Villains created from mankind's technology may seem like a force of nature at times. &nbsp;The cloned raptors in Michael Crichton's &nbsp;Jurassic Park and the Robot Gunslinger in Westworld certainly appear to be single-minded and unwavering in their attacks on the hero.<br><br>"Unemotional and unstoppable." &nbsp;The cyborg (Arnold Schwarzenegger) in The Terminator is a favorite of Geoffrey Landis, Hugo and Nebula Award winner, author of Mars Crossing.<br><br>"HAL (from 2001: A Space Odyssey)," wrote Daniel Blackston, Managing Editor of SFReader and Senior Editor for Pitch-Black, LLC. "'He' is more human than human, 'his'motivations are simply exaggerated human tendencies: obedience, ambition, the surrender of 'self' to the state…" <br><br>Dave Felts, publisher of SFReader and short story writer; and Blackston agreed that the replicant Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) in Blade Runner is one of the best. Felts said, "In his pursuit of knowledge on how to extend his life he is unmerciful, but in the end, having accepted his fate, he delivers a message we can all use." Blackston added, "Very sympathetic villain, so much so that the audience can't decide who to root for in the final fight scene, Roy or Harrison Ford's character (Deckard)…"<br><br>Some villains have the power of authority assisting them. &nbsp;Nurse Ratched with administration approval in Ken Kesey's One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. &nbsp;Sir Guy of Gisbourne (Basil Rathbone) in The Adventures of Robin Hood has Prince John backing him up. &nbsp;Milady deWinter operates with the blessing of Cardinal Richelieu in The Three Musketeers. &nbsp;Noah Cross (John Huston) in Chinatown seems to have everyone from the police to the government to the underworld in his rich hip pocket. &nbsp;General Mapache (Emilio Fernandez) in The Wild Bunch with his army. &nbsp;And, of course, Darth Vader with the entire Empire (as if he actually needed them) behind him in the Star Wars trilogy. &nbsp;<br><br>"Ever since I was 12 I have always thought that Rupert of Henzau from The Prisoner of Zenda was one of the best - handsome and with a sense of humor," wrote Anne Perry, author of the Victorian detective novels featuring William Monk and Thomas Pitt including Death of a Stranger.<br><br>"I think my favorite villain is Inspector Javert from Les Miserables, because, like a lot of villains, he's absolutely certain of his virtue," said Stuart Woods, author of Reckless Abandon and Chiefs.<br><br>Belloq, with the Nazi army backing him, is a favorite of Justin Stanchfield, author of Sisterhood of the Stone. &nbsp;"…while neither fierce nor physically menacing, (Belloq) was the perfect foil for Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark … he is complicated and fully-formed. Although driven by greed and self-interest, it is a lust for discovery rather than personal gain. He shows genuine regret about leaving Marion to her fate, but none whatsoever over stealing from Indiana or trying to kill him. Belloq is, as he tells Jones, a mirror image of him, a dark reflection of what Indiana might become should he let himself stray too far over the line."<br><br>"Archibald Cunningham (Tim Roth as the Scotland Marquis' lieutenant) in Rob Roy is beautifully sadistic while acting a fop," wrote Jay Caselberg, SF author of Wyrmhole and The Metal Sky.<br><br>Kate Dolan, author of Langley's Choice; Raven Li, author of Eyes of Glass; and Vivi Anna, author of Goddess of the Dead all agreed that the Sheriff of Nottingham (Alan Rickman) in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves was a cool villain. &nbsp;Vivi added, "I thought his character was deliciously evil and sexy. He played it with such flamboyance that I couldn't help adore him, even while he ran around madly trying to kill Robin Hood. I cheered for him. If I was in those times, I would have definitely been hanging around with him, plotting evil schemes."<br><br>"Sauron was perhaps the very best villain ever portrayed, for in The Lord of the Rings, Sauron was offstage," said Dennis McKiernan, author of The Iron Tower. &nbsp;"He never directly entered the spotlight, hence J. R. R. Tolkien played on the fear of the unknown when he used Sauron in his epic. We only know Sauron through his use of his surrogates."<br><br>Also included in this category would have to be Satan in Milton's Paradise Lost and Stephen Vincent Benet's The Devil and Daniel Webster. &nbsp;The devil inhabiting Regan MacNeil's body in The Exorcist. &nbsp;John Milton (Al Pacino) in The Devil's Advocate.<br><br>The opposite of the authority villain is the outlaw. &nbsp;Sometimes the outlaw is alone such as Max Cady (played by Robert Mitchum in 1962 and by Robert DeNiro in 1991) in Cape Fear. &nbsp; Sometimes they have handpicked people supporting them like Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman) in Die Hard. &nbsp;And sometimes they have huge organizations behind them such as all the criminal masterminds (Doctor No, Rosa Klebb, Emilio Largo, Elliot Carver) who face James Bond. <br><br>There is Calvera (Eli Wallach) in The Magnificent Seven; Mr. Jackson in David Baldacci's The Winner, Harry Lime (Orson Welles) in the Third Man; all of the bad guys in Elmore Leonard's novels, and Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) in the Godfather trilogy. <br><br>Allen Steele includes in this category, "Long John Silver (from Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson): an often stereotyped classic (the wooden leg, the talking parrot, etc) but still one of the best, mainly because you develop a certain liking for the guy as the story goes along" and "Ernst Stavro Blofeld (from On Your Majesty's Secret Service by Ian Fleming): he's even better in the novel than he was in the movies. And he comes up with one of the most original -- and plausible -- means of &nbsp;blackmailing the world." &nbsp;<br><br>While some of the characters already named are intelligent, there are others who appear frighteningly brilliant. &nbsp;Captain Nemo in Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, Alex in Anthony Burgress' Clockwork Orange, the Marquise de Merteuil (Glenn Close) in Dangerous Liaisons, and James Bond's nemesis Auric Goldfinger in Goldfinger are such characters. &nbsp;<br><br>"Dr. Moriarity (from "The Final Problem" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)," wrote Allen Steele, "he almost killed Sherlock Holmes. `Nuff said."<br><br>The most terrifying villain in this category, however, one of the most memorable ever created, is perched at the Number One villain spot on the American Film Institute's List of 100 Years … 100 Heroes and Villains. &nbsp;He is a psychiatrist. &nbsp;He is a murderer and cannibal. He is Dr. Hannibal Lector (Anthony Hopkins) in Thomas Harris' The Silence of the Lambs. &nbsp;From the moment he appears, the safety of our hero, Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), is in jeopardy. &nbsp;Most definitely. &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>"Hannibal Lector …very menacing, with the nightmarish sense that there is no horror or outrage at which he would hesitate," writes Jon A. Jackson, author of Badger Games. &nbsp;"Plus, of course, an air of implacable competence, the feeling that he's all but unstoppable. The very stuff of nightmare."<br><br>Some might argue that Hannibal Lector actually belongs to the next group of villains. &nbsp;A few might argue that all the characters named belong in this group. &nbsp;They are the psychotics. <br><br>In this group, we will find the touchstone of insane villains: Norman Bates in Robert Bloch's novel and, as played by Anthony Perkins in Alfred Hitchcock's film, Psycho.<br><br>"(One of my most memorable villains is) Peter Lorre as the child molester in M," wrote Larry Rochelle, author of Death and Devotion and Gulf Ghost. &nbsp;"(And) Mrs. Danvers as the house servant in Rebecca."<br><br>Evan Marshall, literary agent and author of &nbsp;Toasting Tina said, "My favorite villain is Ellen in the novel Leave Her to Heaven by Ben Ames Williams … in the story, she goes to obsessive, deadly lengths to keep the man she loves all to herself. To me she is a fascinating psychological study of narcissistic evil. She is also a very unusual villain, as villains go." &nbsp;<br><br>Jeffrey Deaver, author of The Bone Collector and The Coffin Dancer said, &nbsp;"… one of my favorite villains is Robert Mitchum (as the Reverend Harry Powell) in Night of the Hunter. He was truly scary and creepy in that film!"<br><br>"Annie in Stephen King's Misery is very scary, for many of the same reasons as Hannibal Lector," wrote Adam Pepper, author of Memoria. &nbsp;"She is believable. I've met people like her."<br><br>This list of villains also includes: Stephen King's Jack Torrance in The Shining, Travis Bickle (Robert DeNiro) in Taxi Driver, Evelyn Draper (Jessica Walter) in Play Misty for Me, Alex Forrest (Glenn Close) in Fatal Attraction, and Johnny Ringo (Michael Biehn) in Tombstone. &nbsp;<br><br>The final group is the dumb villains. &nbsp;The ones that "drying paint" has a higher I.Q. than. &nbsp;A small but very scary group. &nbsp; It would include the two backwoodsmen in James Dickey's Deliverance, &nbsp;Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) in Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Wilmer in Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon.<br><br>No matter what category they fall into, villains as with any other characters in your story, novel, or screenplay will be should be as well rounded and multidimensional as your heroes. &nbsp;They need understanding, too. Captain Boucher, in my horror novel, The Inheritance, truly feels that the prisoners in his care deserve his punishment for their misdeeds. &nbsp;Kate Guthrie, also in The Inheritance, not only wants to discover the secret behind the mysterious Claiborne legacy but also to have its curse removed from herself. &nbsp;The vicious creatures in my screenplay and current novel-in-progress, Starbeast, only kill for food. &nbsp;<br><br>But this needs to be clear, for me anyway, while I want a little understanding for my villains, what I want most is for the reader to fear for my heroes. Near the conclusion of my upcoming thriller, Rebel Nation, one of my heroes, Cullen Davis, is told by his grandmother that he must choose between the woman he loves and his younger brother. &nbsp;Only one will survive. &nbsp;If he doesn't choose, both will be destroyed. &nbsp;Hopefully, during the course of the novel the reader will believe, completely and totally, that Victoria Talbridge can do what she has threatened. &nbsp;Her orders will be carried out even if she were to die at that very moment.<br><br>So… the stakes for Cullen have been clearly defined. &nbsp;Failure means the loss of the two people he loves the most. &nbsp;Can he be smarter than his grandmother? &nbsp;He's never beaten her before. &nbsp;Can he defeat her this time when it matters the most?<br><br>Maybe, maybe not.<br><br>"A hero is only as great as his villains," said Brad Meltzer, author of The Zero Game and The Millionaires. &nbsp;"That's how it works."<br><br>Below, in alphabetical order, are my ten favorite villains. &nbsp;This list is subject to change at any time without notice. &nbsp;<ul><li>Norman Bates in Psycho</li><li>Belloq in Raiders of the Lost Ark</li><li>Calvera in The Magnificent Seven</li><li>Archibald Cunningham in Rob Roy</li><li>Milady deWinter in The Three Musketeers</li><li>Sir Guy of Gisbourne in The Adventures of Robin Hood</li><li>Hans Gruber in Die Hard</li><li>Hannibal Lector in The Silence of the Lambs</li><li>Christian Szell in Marathon Man</li><li>Annie Wilkes in Misery</li></ul><p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2005, &nbsp;Christopher Stires</p>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:05:58 +0000</pubDate>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Breaking the Chains; An Editorial Comment]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=96&amp;PID=95&amp;title=breaking-the-chains-an-editorial-comment#95</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Breaking the Chains; An Editorial Comment<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:05am<br /><br /><b>Breaking the Chains; An Editorial Comment<br>by Edward Knight<br>Editor, Journey Books Publishing/Amazing Journeys Magazine<br></b><br>In a recent online discussion I had the chance to talk to some editors and writers about rules for writing. &nbsp;Specifically, we were talking about how to relay back-story, but dialogue tags and point-of-view also came up. &nbsp;As the discussion unfolded I found myself questioning many of the conventional techniques, guidelines, rules, even laws as one writer/editor put it. I'm referring to the stylistic techniques that seem to have become concrete rules for many writers and editors. <br><br>In the past year or so I have found myself drawn deeper and deeper into the works of speculative fiction writers who were prominent in the years between 1930 and 1960. &nbsp;When I ask myself why I find these works so intriguing, I always come back to the same answer, their writing style. &nbsp;Compared to these later works I find the writing style of more modern fiction to be almost boring. &nbsp;I'm not referring to content. &nbsp;The new stories are exciting. &nbsp;I am referring to the style the writers use to convey the message. &nbsp;Why do I find these latter day writers' works to be superior? &nbsp;Modern writers are being tied down by all these technical writing rules.<br><br>Let's take the "show, don't tell" rule for example. &nbsp;Some times this gets a bit old with me. &nbsp;Yes, I agree with the rule in general, but there are times when I just want a writer to tell me the facts and move on. &nbsp;Sometimes, showing slows a story's pace to a crawl if a writer isn't careful. &nbsp;To me, as a reader, there are times when I would rather a writer tell me that a car is old and broken down rather than write a dialogue with 20 adjectives in an attempt to show me. &nbsp;Sometimes telling me, "The car was old and broken down." is good enough. &nbsp;It isn't necessary to show me every dent and the exact color of the rust to get the point across.<br><br>If one looks back at the works of Heinlein, Asimov, Pohl, Hubbard … expository writing is frequent. &nbsp;There is a lot of telling rather than showing going on. &nbsp;Go back even farther to the writing of Verne and Burroughs and it is even more prevalent. &nbsp;The same types of examples could be made for rules regarding dialogue tags and point of view. &nbsp;Heinlein used tags other than said and Verne wasn't afraid to change his point of view character in mid-chapter. &nbsp;For this reason I will suggest that the stylistic rules many in the literary world hold to be so dear are little more than stylistic fads, like bell-bottoms and mini-skirts. &nbsp;Rules are steadfast. &nbsp;Fads come and go.<br><br>We live in a conservative age. &nbsp;As writing goes, that conservatism has bee applied to style rather than content. &nbsp;The problem isn't the writer; it's the rules and editors who insist that they must be applied. &nbsp;I my opinion, the story is more important than the rules. &nbsp;Most readers understand that; many editors do not. &nbsp;Readers want good stories. &nbsp;Story, above all else, is most important.<br><br>Piers Anthony came up in our discussion. &nbsp;Anthony is well known in speculative fiction as a maverick, a writer who doesn't play by the rules. &nbsp;So why is he successful despite being a literary throwback?<br><br>Look at it this way. &nbsp;Suppose 100,000 copies of Anthony's new novel sells within a week of its release. &nbsp;How many of those 100,000 readers give a rip about rules concerning show-don't-tell, POV, dialogue tags, and the like. &nbsp;Only literary minded people, who must find some objective rather than subjective way to critique writing, think that way. &nbsp;The average reader doesn't dissect a story in that manner. &nbsp;They read a story and either like it or don't. &nbsp;<br><br>So where did these rules come from? &nbsp;That's simple. &nbsp;They came from successful writers who developed a style that works for them and their readers. &nbsp;The problem is that mainstream publishers and editors have taken those popular styles and used them as a cookie cutter. &nbsp;They've created a mold, and a writer's work must fit. &nbsp; They've developed a formula in which the mix must be just right. &nbsp;From a financial point of view, it makes sense. &nbsp;Publishers seem to think that if readers buy thousands upon thousands of books by King, Crichton, and Clancy, then it would be a good thing if all writers emulate that style. &nbsp;Writers who follow the rules are published and some become popular. &nbsp;Writers who do not follow the rules are never given the opportunity. &nbsp;The writers who gain success are sought out to do workshops, and they teach other writers how to fit the mold. &nbsp;This creates stylistic dogma, rules for writing. One contributor to our discussion put it this way:<blockquote><i>I believe you are right that many gatekeepers have too much power and apply it without thinking. &nbsp;I recall one online writers' workshop where I was surrounded by disciples of one editor's dogma. - Howard Jones</i></blockquote>Writers are to blame as well. &nbsp;They seek the formula; they want a set of rules to play by. &nbsp;Rather than rely on their imagination, their own creativity, or a uniquely developed style, they seek to mimic the successful. &nbsp;When a rejection comes they expect suggestions regarding which rules were broken. &nbsp;Rejection seems easier to accept when it comes via a measurable broken rule as opposed to having an editor tell them, "I didn't like your story and don't think my readers will like it either." Writers get angry when a rejection comes back without comments. &nbsp;They want a reason why, some concrete structural element within the story that caused it to be rejected. &nbsp;They want a rule. &nbsp;Writers sometimes don't realize that holding a rule too closely is like being chained. &nbsp;Breaking loose every now and again is a good thing. In our discussion one contributor said:<blockquote><i>I think the "rules" of composition or Laws of Technique are "given" in good faith, not meant as dogma, but all laws become dogmatic at some level and there are always examples of the laws being broken to "good" effect. - Daniel Blackston</i></blockquote>In this editor's humble opinion; editors, agents, and reviewers who push rules down writers' throats are damaging the creative process. &nbsp;There are some who just have to have a list of right and wrong ways to write. &nbsp;Outside of good grammar and spelling, the rules are made up by publishers, editors, reviewers, and writers. &nbsp;If we can make the rules, we can change them, break them, and bend them, twist them into knots, or throw them out the window. &nbsp;Like Anthony, we need more radical thinkers in fiction these days. &nbsp;Editors have been forcing writers to fit their mold for some time now. &nbsp;The mold is getting a bit moldy, however. &nbsp;To be honest, I am getting bored with the style of modern fiction as it is being published today. &nbsp;I continue to look back to those golden age writers, to a time when the edges were not so sharp and the rules less clearly defined. &nbsp;The pendulum swings both ways. &nbsp;I think the current stylistic binge in writing has reached its apex and it is time for the pendulum to swing to the left. &nbsp;Editors need to open up a bit, be more flexible and quit insisting that all writers follow all the rules. &nbsp;Anthony doesn't follow them to the tee. &nbsp;His readers love him for it, and his editor probably kicks and screams while his publisher smiles at his bank statement.<p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2005, &nbsp;Edward Knight</p>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:05:06 +0000</pubDate>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : CTHULHU QUARTET: Musings on H.P. Lovecraft]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=95&amp;PID=94&amp;title=cthulhu-quartet-musings-on-hp-lovecraft#94</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> CTHULHU QUARTET: Musings on H.P. Lovecraft<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:02am<br /><br /><b>CTHULHU QUARTET: Musings on H.P. Lovecraft<br>by&nbsp;Dr. Robert Seufert<br></b><br><b>The Quintessence of Lovecratianism</b><div><br></div><div>Writing in his most famous work <i>The Hero with a Thousand Faces,</i> the great American mythologist Joseph Campbell claimed that all mythology shares an ontological and a psychological basis. Ontology refers to the nature of reality, and psychological to the human perception of that reality. With these distinctions in mind, it's possible to examine some of the underlying assumptions of what is possibly the greatest literary mythology created in the twentieth century: the Cthulhu Mythos pioneered by H. P. Lovecraft.<br><br>Ontologically or cosmologically, the assumptions that most fully ground the greatest of the Cthulhu stories include the following:<br><br><ol><li>That the universe is material and physical and can best be understood by means of the scientific method.<br></li><li>That the "eternal laws" of existence are ultimately the result of chance and are therefore subject to sudden, perhaps drastic, change should the elements or events from which they originally derived change.</li><li>That there are extraterrestrial living beings, in some cases more intelligent and powerful than any of the denizens of Earth.</li><li>That these beings, to a certain extent, inhabit dimensions of existence distinct from those in which terrestrial beings generally operate, and may therefore exist among Earth's inhabitants without their being aware of the existence of such beings.</li><li>That these extraterrestrials are, nonetheless, capable of manifesting themselves at certain times in our normal terrestrial plane of existence in order to pursue those interests and objectives peculiar to them.</li><li>That these interests and objectives are essentially unrelated to (and therefore unconcerned with) any human system of values or goals. (At times, however, these sets of interests and objectives may coincide, in which case cooperation may occur; at other times, they may be at odds, at which times conflict may result.)</li><li>That, at certain times in the history of Earth, these beings have pursued their interests and objectives more fully and forcefully than others.</li><li>That, to secure their aims, these beings have intervened in the course of evolution, creating for themselves races of terrestrial servants, distantly related to humans but partaking as well of the characteristics of other terrestrial (and perhaps non-terrestrial) life-forms.</li><li>That man's own primitive ancestors may have served such beings, perhaps on a global scale, and that many primitive representations of gods, ceremonial structures, and religious practices preserve traces of these nearly forgotten beings, patterns, and rites.</li><li>That certain places considered especially sacred or accursed by aboriginal peoples may represent sites at which commerce with these alien beings and their servants was especially intense, or points at which the other-dimensional habitats of these extraterrestrial beings may intersect with our own dimension.</li><li>That we may again be entering a time-period when it may be possible (astronomically?) and desirable (from their point of view) for these beings to reestablish their dominion over Earth.</li><li>That, in order to do so, these beings, or their non-human servitors, have at times sought the assistance and cooperation of human beings in achieving their purposes.</li><li>That among the most effective methods of achieving the cooperation and assistance of human beings has been to mate with them, thus producing races of offspring capable of moving equally well among the human and non-human population, and passing relatively unnoticed among the humans.</li></ol>Psychologically or culturally, the key assumptions are:<ol><li>That the civilizations of the world, and indeed the whole notion of reason and natural law on which they rest, are temporary human constructs imposed upon the surface of a universe fundamentally at odds with and indifferent to the artificial principles on which the notion of civilization, nay, of reason itself, rest.</li><li>That the concept of "humanity" itself is a construct imposed upon a being (or set of beings) considerably more complex and mysterious than the idea of humanity would suggest, and governed by impulses and interests quite different from those normally associated with the human world.</li><li>That, in addition to their "animalistic" tendencies, humans possess ancestral, perhaps genetic, memories (as part of their "collective unconscious") of the days when they were involved in the service of these extraterrestrial beings, and are sometimes capable, voluntarily or involuntarily, of bringing those memories to the surface, to such an extent at times as to alter their personalities and behavior patterns in the present, in ways not necessarily compatible with the norms and mores of human society.</li><li>That artists and psychics being, as Ezra Pound said (at least of <i>poets</i>), the "antennae of the race," they are sometimes more sensitive to and easily influenced by such memories and indeed by present-day attempts by such extra-terrestrial beings, or their servitors, to communicate with and enlist the aid of humans, or even of picking up psychic disturbances caused by events associated with the activities of those beings but not necessarily intended for transmission or "broadcast" by them.</li><li>That many of the supposedly imaginary productions of such people may actually represent, in a more or less veiled or imperfect way, the physical realities they have, in fact, perceived, often in a hallucinatory or semi-conscious state (dreams, reverie, etc.) since such states are closet to the "unconscious" realms through which such realities are most readily perceived.</li><li>That the term "unconscious" in this case refers specifically to those pre- and extra-rational modes of awareness which most directly ally humans to the conscious life of the beings and servitors from whom such messages emit.</li><li>That "unconscious" here also refers to those modes of knowing which most effectively act as keys to unlocking those dimensions beyond our regular three of four, and so act as bridges to those domains wherein extra-terrestrial beings and their servitors most fully (at least for the moment) reside.</li><li>That the increase in such "seismic" activity in the contemporary world strongly suggests the possible reentry of those extra-terrestrial beings on the stage of human affairs, and their renewed and intensified efforts in this corner of the universe and on this plane of existence as a whole; to this extent, such activity may be considered "prophetic" of the shape of things to come.</li><li>That the need for "wonder" and "magic" or "the spiritual" in many of the psychics, artists, and dreamers that has surfaced in the past few decades (though actually since the time of the nineteenth-century Romantics), may be traced back to those root-memories of contact with those primordial beings and the extra-terrestrial dimension of which such beings form a part, as well as with a dissatisfaction with the more restrictive world view and patterns of life that the ideals of "humanity," "civilization," and "reason" have imposed upon us.</li><li>That, for such natures, the cryptic embodiments of such primordial realities in certain aspects of religion, literature, art, music, archeology, anthropology, astronomy, biology, physics, psychology, and the paranormal and occult "sciences" can trigger trains of associations and memories that can recover for them, at least in part, those primordial states of consciousness to which they aspire.</li><li>That, to pursue their ends without interruption, the extra-terrestrial beings and their minions rely on the incredulity and the obliviousness of most, if not all, of the civilized world; the "imaginative productions" of the artists and dreamers act merely as coded messages (their true meaning unsuspected at times even by the artists themselves) for the initiate, and as subtle reminders and activators of those who are about to awake to the realities that they represent.</li></ol>The careful reader of Lovecraft will certainly not find each of these elements in every story or poem, but enough of the elements recur in enough of the writings to constitute the philosophical center for the fuller understanding of Lovecraft's works. Many emerge in so early a short story as "Dagon," only to be developed and elaborated in such great tales as "The Rats in the Walls," "The Call of Cthulhu," "The Dunwich Horror," "The Whisperer in the Darkness," "The Shadow Over Innsmouth," as well as finding their way into Lovecraft's two novels <i>The Case of Charles Dexter Ward</i> and <i>At the Mountains of Madness</i>. They form a central part of the vision for which Lovecraft is internationally celebrated today.<br><br>How does Lovecraft compare with such other great modern myth-makers as W. B. Yeats and J. R. R. Tolkien? Amazingly well. &nbsp;Like these backward-looking authors, Lovecraft provides a complex and coherent mythology that puts us in touch with some of the deepest aspects of the human psyche. &nbsp;Unlike these authors, however, Lovecraft makes accessible the extraterrestrial, and finally the <i>extraterrestrial in ourselves</i>, to consciousness and wonder, and so unleashes aspects of the unconscious mind not dealt with as successfully by any twentieth-century author with the possible exception of D. H. Lawrence. Whatever his occasional failings as a writer and an artist, Lovecraft opens up for human scrutiny regions of the psyche and the cosmos that must be explored if human consciousness can ever hope to catch up with its own intellectual progress. In some respects, Edgar Allan Poe, Lovecraft's great predecessor, anticipated him in this journey into the great unknown, but Lovecraft extended what Poe had initiated in ways not dreamed of by Poe. &nbsp;Poe most often deals with the individual and terrestrial, Lovecraft with the collective and cosmic. &nbsp;If Poe was the Freud of the weird tale, then surely Lovecraft is its Jung.<br><br><b>Lovecraft vs. Derleth: A Personal View</b><br>In recent years, it has become fashionable to denigrate August Derleth's achievements in the field of weird fiction in favor of those of H. P. Lovecraft. While praising Derleth's efforts to keep Lovecraft's works in print and Lovecraft himself in the public eye, critics like Fritz Leiber, Richard L. Tierney, Dirk W. Mosig, and S. T. Joshi have accused Derleth of perverting both the letter and the spirit of Lovecraft's works in his own fiction and criticism.<br><br>Specifically, they accuse Derleth of creating a "Cthulhu Mythos" quite at variance with the materialistic philosophy that underlies most (if not all) of Lovecraft's mythological tales, wrong not only in detail but in basic outlook, substituting for Lovecraft's materialistic "indifferentism" a philosophical outlook much closer to the conventional morality of the Judeo-Christian tradition, and seeing in the conflict between Derleth's Elder Gods and Old Ones a warmed-over version of the struggle between good (God) and evil (the Devil), or a Manichean variant thereof, congenial to Derleth's own Catholic upbringing but at odds with the more scientific outlook Lovecraft espoused.<br><br>Undoubtedly, there is much truth to this claim, which may perhaps account for the disappointing predictability of a work like Derleth's segmented novel <i>Trail of Cthulhu</i>. But such criticism tends to overlook the genuine merits of Derleth's earlier foray into Lovecraft country: a collection of short stories entitled The Mask of Cthulhu. Whatever their philosophical or mythological veerings from Lovecraft, several of the stories in this work do evoke precisely that sense of "cosmic wonder and dread" which are at the heart of Lovecraft's best work, and amply justify the ascription of the adjective "Lovecraftian" to them.<br><br>Not that all of the stories succeed equally well. "The Whipoorwills in the Hills" and "The House in the Valley" are derivative of Lovecraft's "Rats in the Walls." "Something in Wood" seems lightweight and merely fanciful. "The Sandwin Compact" and especially "The Return of Hastur" (the opening section and outline of the latter having been briefly critiqued by Lovecraft not long before his death) do, however, genuinely smack of the cosmic wonder and dread to which the best Lovecraft stories aspire. And the final story, "The Seal of R'lyeh," though less cleanly and subtly written than some of the others, is not without a touch of the strange beauty of those primordial and cosmic vistas that Lovecraft's imagination loved to inhabit.<br><br>It is perhaps not insignificant that most of these stories derive their inspiration from brief accounts or dreams and jottings of story ideas that appear in Lovecraft's own "Commonplace Book." To some extent, they were written as much to honor Lovecraft's memory as to advance Derleth's fledgling career. &nbsp;<br><br>Another "posthumous collaboration" is the novel entitled by Derleth <i>The Luker at the Threshold</i>. Researchers tell us that, for this lengthier effort, Derleth combined two separate Lovecraftian fragments, one involving a dark tower and the other a spectral window, and that about 2,000 of the 60,000 words of the final story are actually Lovecraft's. As is, this is a superb tale, as true to the spirit if not the letter of Lovecraft as anything else Derleth himself wrote, and, to my way of thinking, truer than any of the contributions of that small army of other Lovecraftian imitators with whom I'm familiar. Perhaps the end of the novel, with its encyclopedic array of 'evidence' to substantiate the credibility of the mythos and story, is a bit overdone, especially for readers already familiar with the mythos, but it effectively reproduces what Lin Carter calls the <i>sine qua non</i> of the Lovecraft tale: the gradual, almost imperceptible, accretion of realistic detail needed to render the impossible not only plausible but inevitable.<br><br>My own discovery of <i>The Mask of Cthulhu</i> at the age of 14 was one of the great imaginative experiences of my early life, an experience deepened and enhanced by my subsequent reading of Derleth and of Lovecraft himself, but in no way diminished by it. Simply put, Derleth managed to capture the <i>poetry</i> of Lovecraft's world almost to perfection, and since his works, like Lovecraft's, were intended to be judged primarily from a literary rather than a philosophical vantage point, these early efforts must be considered remarkable successful evocations of Lovecraft, as well as (in many cases) fine tales in their own right.<br><br><b>The Great Lovecraft-Derleth Debate Continued</b><br>As Lin Carter observes, the so-called Cthulhu Mythos more or less evolved as a joke shared among literary friends. Those who contend (like Dirk W. Mosig and S. T. Joshi) that August Derleth betrayed the original vision of Lovecraft's stories by imposing a cosmic struggle between good and evil upon what Lovecraft simply saw as the competing interests of two dissimilar forms of material beings in a random universe are right - up to a point.<br><br>Derleth's Catholicism probably did lead him to see the "Old Ones" or "Ancient Ones" as material variations on the fallen angels confined (for the most part) in Hell by the forces of good, which Christianity envisions as God and His angels, and which Derleth called the Elder Gods. Lovecraft, who could at times be acerbic even when writing about friends, seems to have ridiculed "little Augie Derleth" in a letter to Frank Belknap Long for his moralizing interpretation of what was for Lovecraft an <i>amoral</i> state of affairs. Nevertheless, Lovecraft actively encouraged his friends and fellow writers to add freely to the literary mythology he was creating and himself elaborated and developed aspects of his "system" that had only been hinted at in earlier stories when he came to write later ones.<br><br>In his defense, it's worth pointing out that in proposing a cosmic struggle between the Old Ones and the Elder Gods, Derleth solved a problem posed by the previous "Mythos" stories. If Cthulhu and similar beings were somehow "penned" in lairs scattered about the known and unknown universe, by what means were they so confined? In a poem entitled "The Messenger," Lovecraft himself mentions the "Elder Sign" and implies that it is this sign that holds at bay such beings as Cthulhu and that only with the removal of this mysterious seal could such creatures attain their freedom.<br><br>Derleth seems to have reasoned, sensibly enough, that if the Old Ones were confined by means of certain signs, someone or something must have imposed those signs. And so the notion of the Elder Gods emerges and figures in most of the early Derleth tales subsequently included in the short story collection <i>The Mask of Cthulhu</i>, as well as in the Mythos novels <i>The Lurking Fear</i> and <i>The Trail of Cthulhu</i>.<br><br>It's also in these stories that Derleth generally envisions these Old Ones as elementals, adapting to his purposes the ancient Greek conception of the four elements, with Cthulhu and his servitors, the Deep Ones, associated with water, Lloigor and Ithaqua with air, Tsathoggua and Sub-Niggurath with earth, and Cthugha with fire. This works well enough up to a point and sets the stage for a Derleth story like "The Return of Hastur," in which two elementals vie for the body of a single human servitor, the notion being that beings "composed" of different elements are unalterably opposed to one another.<br><br>Unfortunately for Derleth, some of the most prominent Old Ones (like Nyarlathotep, Azathoth, and Yog-Sothoth) don't readily fall under the sway of a single element and, by and large, the evolving pantheon demonstrated too much vitality and complexity to adhere to Derleth's simplistic scheme. As Richard L. Tierney points out, the extraterrestrial origins of Cthulhu, the fact that he was <i>banished</i> to the subaqueous regions of the Earth, and the presence of <i>wings</i> on his rather diverse anatomy (octopoid head, manlike body, beastlike or birdlike talons, and birdlike or batlike wings) argue against the idea of even he originally having been the water elemental Derleth makes him.<br><br>But, as previously mentioned, the inclusion of the Elder Gods does furnish a plausible explanation for the ongoing confinement of the Old Ones, and, although Lovecraft never gave his <i>imprimatur</i> to the concept by incorporating Derleth's terminology into his own stories, the idea of a cosmic struggle does tie up one or two loose ends in the Mythos as inherited by Derleth. &nbsp;To my mind, it's not so much the notion of rival Elder Gods and Old Ones that seems at variance with Lovecraft's original conception as the association of those rival beings with good and evil respectively. This is what reduces Lovecraft's revolutionary insight to a warmed-over version of Zoroastrian or Judeo-Christian theology.<br><br>What Derleth's narrators and characters may fail to grasp is that the Elder Gods are not really aligned with humans and the "angels" in keeping the Old Ones at bay, and thus absolutely good, but rather indifferent to humanity and interested only in keeping their cosmic adversaries under lock and key to serve their own interests. And so, the Elder Gods are, at best, only <i>relatively</i> good (because their interests happen to coincide in this case with human welfare), just as the Old Ones are not absolutely evil but mainly rivals with humans for a particular corner of the space-time continuum.<br><br>If this is granted, I think the conflict between the Lovecraft Mythos and the Derleth Mythos largely dissolves. The Elder Gods seem not so very different from the Old Ones except for the fact that their interests are opposed, with the Elder Gods currently having the upper hand - fortunately for us humans! But, if the interests of the Elder gods altered, we would undoubtedly have more to fear from them than we do from the Old Ones since, as far as we can tell, their enormous power is in no way curbed, as it is in the case of the Old Ones.<br><br>I still stand by my belief that, as Lin Carter puts it, "It is to the indefatigable efforts of August Derleth, more than any other influence in the world, that the credit for making H. P. Lovecraft an internationally known writer belongs" (158). Furthermore, despite his lapses in fathoming the full import of the philosophical underpinnings of Lovecraft's vision, Derleth remains perhaps the greatest imitator and perpetuator of the kind of story pioneered by Lovecraft. To my mind, he deserves to be known as the best of Lovecraft's disciples.<br><br>And this is not, I think, just sentimental attachment to an author who first introduced me to the "Mythos" at the tender age of 14 and whose wonderful Arkham publishing house made it possible for me to savor Lovecraft firsthand and in the tastefully bound an printed volumes that he deserved. It is a conclusion arrived after having read the twenty-two stories collected in the first <i>Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos</i> and the 17 stories in <i>Shadows Over Innsmouth</i>, which collectively include such luminaries as Frank Belknap Long, Robert Bloch, Ramsey Campbell, Brian Lumley, Stephen King, Brian Mooney, Brian Stableford, and David Langford. &nbsp;Some of these are excellent tales, but even the best of them still left me hungry for the "sense of cosmic wonder and dread" that epitomizes Lovecraft at his greatest and that still radiates through the best efforts of August Detleth.<br><br><b> Lovecraft at the Movies</b><br>Sadly, H. P. Lovecraft has not fared well on film - far less well than Stephen King or even Poe. &nbsp;The obscure New England recluse has managed to become an internationally acclaimed author to an extent that not even he could have imagined. One wonders if he will ever find the Peter Jackson to translate his mythological vision to the silver screen in such a way to draw an even larger following.<br><br><i>The Haunted Palace</i> of the early '60s was a forgettable adaptation of Lovecraft's <i>The Case of Charles Dexter Ward,</i> though its title and setting were meant to suggest Poe. <i>The Dunwich Horror</i>, which appeared in 1970, degenerates from the passable to the laughable, and the casting of Dean Stockwell and Sandra Dee in the principal parts doesn't help. &nbsp;Near the end of the millennium appeared the execrable <i>Necronomicon</i>, featuring Lovecraft himself as the pivotal character (talk about turning over in one's grave!). The three "insert" episodes in the framing story, vaguely based on Lovecraft stories and loosely hinged on the fabulous <i>Necronomicon</i>, that incredibly rare occult book invented by Lovecraft, make TV's <i>Tales from the Crypt</i> look sophisticated in comparison, though, if memory serves, the adaptation of "Cool Air" works pretty well.<br><br>More recently, a movie called <i>Dagon</i> appeared, which transferred Lovecraft's "Shadow Over Innsmouth" to a Spanish setting (obviously for financial rather than artistic reasons). There are moments of real weirdness in this production, though in the end the luridness merely suggested by Lovecraft overwhelms this suspenseful and poetic tale. One misses the garrulous old New Englander who slowly and drunkenly reveals the sinister twistings of the story that underlies the present state of Innsmouth, and the strange denizens of Innsmouth itself, whom Lovecraft handles with such surrealist wit, are pretty much turned into the usual ineffectually shambling hulks in this version of the story. &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Having survived almost six decades now, I wonder if I will live long enough to see a really first-rate movie version of a Lovecraft tale. Given today's amazing range of special effects and the appetite for adventure and horror films, it hardly seems an unreasonable expectation. Still, I'm not holding my breath. <br><br>Works Consulted:<br>1. Carter, Lin. <i>Lovecraft: A Look Behind the Cthulhu Mythos</i>. &nbsp;New York: Ballantine, 1972.<br>2. Derleth, August. <i>The Mask of Cthulhu</i>. &nbsp;New York: Carroll and Graf, 1958.<br>3. Joshi, S. T., ed. <i>H. P. Lovecraft: Four Decades of Criticism.</i> &nbsp;Athens: Ohio University Press, 1980.<br>4. Lovecraft, H. P. &nbsp;"The Messenger." <i>The Fungi from Yuggoth and Other Poems.</i> New York Ballantine, 1963. &nbsp;<br><br><br><b>Dr. Robert Seufert is the author of many essays, poems, stories, and works of criticism. He is also author and orator of <i>The Voyage</i> an audio-recorded epic poem. Dr. Seufert serves as an editorial advisor to Pitch-Black Books www.pitchblackbooks.com &nbsp;</b> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2004, &nbsp;Robert Seufert</p></div>]]>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Decadence and Fugue]]></title>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Decadence and Fugue<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 7:00am<br /><br /><b>Decadence and Fugue: Critical Notes On Jeff Ford’s "The Empire of Ice Cream"<br>by&nbsp;Daniel E. Blackston<br></b><br>1. Schism<br>Just over four years ago, at the false-turn of the Millennium, Gordon Van Gelder, in a speech titled, "Respectability", remarked, "What I really want to address is this notion of ‘literary respectability’. I have grave problems with it." <br><br>Van Gelder’s "problems" as articulated in the speech, later published as an essay, stem from two simple and quite sound assumptions, 1) that Speculative Fiction (SF) has already proved its literary mettle, and 2) that the literary midlist is as impoverished as the midlist for commercial SF; the "grass isn’t really greener" in the pastures of literary and academic acceptance. Van Gelder goes on to quote and agree with Barry Malzberg’s assertion "I turned my back on science fiction in 1976 ... and I was wrong. The genre is bigger than us; we are here because of it." (Neb, 123-26).<br><br>No doubt, Van Gelder intended his comments to celebrate SF’s freedom from literary convention and to bolster its nexus with the popular (or mass) psyche. Unfortunately, Van Gelder and many other editors in the‘prestige’ press have been harassed over the past several years by genre ‘purists’ who insist that the most high-profile SF venues have abdicated their audience base.¹<br><br>As a reviewer and critic of short SF, the most notable novelette published last year by my reckoning was, without a doubt, "The Empire of Ice Cream" by Jeff Ford. Ford’s story is a display of technical sublimity by nearly any literary standard I can think of, excepting, perhaps, a standard that posited as irreconcilable, the aims of ‘literary’ and ‘speculative’ fiction. Just such a schism is often present in theoretical discussions of SF, and has been keenly evident in certain industry circles as of late. <br><br>At any rate, the latest notions that literary approaches to Speculative Fiction are doomed to pretension and lukewarmness – or worse, obscurity – seem to have been dealt a crippling blow by the publication of "The Empire of Ice Cream", a story which merits robust criticism, in terms of both technique and theme – as well consideration for the story’s almost tertiary, but still impressively demonstrative, sidelong comment on the aforementioned schism between popular acceptance and ‘‘literary respectability’’.<br><br>"The Empire of Ice Cream" was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula awards this year. That it secured its Nebula is a testament to the critical acuity of the voting members of the SF industry. I find it problematic to simply <i>recommend</i> this story to prospective Hugo voters. It would be better to say: "Vote for this story as best novelette of 2003 at<i>all hazards.</i>"<br><br>2. Synesthesia<br>The central conceit of Ford’s story concerns the literary application of <i>synesthesia</i>, a psychoneurological condition affecting .01% of the human population, postulated to effect 100% of the human population at a subliminal level, consciously perceived at various junctures, foremost among them, early infancy ². The condition may be loosely defined as a ‘confusion of the senses’, or to evoke a direct allusion to Rimbaud, ‘a systematic disorganization of the senses’, ‘systemic’ being, of course, substituted for ‘systematic’ in that there is no conscious choice implied in contemporary, clinical diagnoses of the condition.<br><br>By casting his protagonist as a victim of synesthesia, Ford enables his main character to function in one of Speculative Fiction’s most common roles as ‘outsider’ or as a ‘cast-out’ from society. The further elaboration on this theme of isolation is the narrator’s talent as a composer who paints with music: "great abstract works in the tradition of Kadinsky." Here Ford’s instinct for fugue (which later emulates the baroque range of Rubens) shines with ironic inspiration: the narrator being, as it were, an ‘idiot savant’, privy to perceptual esotericism, much as many readers and writers of SF imagine themselves; reader sympathy is easily engaged, SF-nal3 concept securely presented and all within the opening paragraphs.<br><br>That Ford’s story centers on the use of synesthesia as a SF-nal conceit, shows, threefold, his utilitarian and spirited use of symbolism; this central concept evokes: the poetic/literary allusion that is indispensable to the narrative’s overall theme and impact, the notion of fugue, another powerful device employed to magnificent effect throughout the narrative, and finally, Ford’s rich, ironic ‘narrative ontology’ expressed symbolically and allusively through an aesthetic that willfully partakes of both Stevens’ and Rimbaud’s stylistic and thematic decadence, whilst staying rooted securely in Speculative soil.<br><br>Another strong Speculative device used in the story (and, incidentally, another device constructed on a fugue model) is the <i>shared world</i> premise that ensues during the story’s rising action, and also fuels the denouement: an ironic ‘inversion’ (with yet another fugue) that effectively concludes the SF-nal plot, but brilliantly illumines the story’s allusive capacities, perhaps even to the brink of symbiotic ‘explication’ – that is, certain works and images of, particularly Wallace Stevens’ poetry, being brought to unique re-articulation through Ford’s complex, allusive scaffolding – while the story’s theme is likewise completed by an examination of certain of Stevens’ poems. This allusive symbiosis is directed not only at poetry, and thus, Stevens, but at visual art, classical music (Bach fugues in particular), and certainly not least of all philosophy and theoretical (quantum) physics. <br><br>This is, in effect, an expression of the story’s thematic conceit, ‘confusing’ Speculative Fiction with literary works, with works of classic music, modern visual art, and poetry, thus confusing all the arts: visual, verbal, sonic, and otherwise. The ‘systematic disorganization of the genres’ is under way, ironically under the classical form and diction of Ford’s customary, Jamesian narrative style. His baton, as it were, begins to glow magically, as we realize the fugue of ideas and plastic form offers yet another transposition, that is, that his ‘confusion’ of classical SF-nal devices (shared worlds and psycho-dementia) with baroque literary allusion is an ironic gesture directed toward SF ‘purists’.<br><br>The idea of synesthesia is common enough in poetry; nevertheless, the two poets who seem most germane to "The Empire of Ice Cream" are Rimbaud and Stevens, both of whom explored the use of synesthesia as a symbolic device in poetry. Ford’s close allusion to both Rimbaud and Stevens also conjoins a likewise tone of sophisticated decadence; both poets functioned willfully as modern Sophists, that is, they sought release through complex self-examination and ‘rebellion’ through complex rearrangement of the preconceived, ‘simple’ world; Ford intends to present his argument through the same Sophist style, an approach Nietzsche derided as:<br><br>"They are not clean enough, either; they all muddy their waters to make them look deep." (Zarathustra, 131). <br><br>Rimbaud self-celebrated his synesthesia technique in "A Season in Hell":<br><br>I invented colors for the vowels! A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green. I made rules for the form and movement of every consonant, and I boasted of inventing, with rhythms from within me, a kind of poetry that all the senses, sooner or later, would recognize.<br><br>(Second Delirium: The Alchemy of the Word) (Rim, 203)<br><br>Ford’s narrator describes his compositional method:<br><br>"Many times, I planned a composition on a blank piece of paper using the set of 64 colors I’d had since early childhood. The only difficulty in this was with colors like magenta and cobalt blue, which I perceive primarily as tastes, and so would have to write them down in pencil as licorice and tapioca on my colorfully scribbled drawing where they would appear in music."<br><br>Note the reliance of expository narrative which is prevalent throughout much of Ford’s published fiction and is, likewise, in no great absence here. In "The Empire of Ice Cream" the expository, subjective narrative voice is exploited as a confessional device, further evocation of the story’s poetic (and mid-Victorian) preoccupations; however, this confessional voice is skillfully used not only to transmit exposition, but to increase narrative suspense – and even more importantly – to extend Ford’s deeper, ontological themes. <br><br>Stevens, in his well-known poem, "Sea Surface Full of Clouds" employed synesthesia symbolically to great effect:<br><br>And in the morning summer hued the deck<br>And made one think of rosy chocolate<br>And gilt umbrellas. Paradisal green<br>Gave suavity to the perplexed machine<br>Of ocean, which in limpid water lay.<br><br>Later lines extend the symbolism: "At breakfast jelly yellow streaked the deck," "A mallow morning dozed upon the deck/And made one think of musky chocolate/and frail umbrellas"(Stevens 89-90 ).<br><br>William Van O’ Conner in his book, Sense and Sensibility in Modern Poetry found Stevens’ poetry an expedient model for an examination into the symbolic uses of color in literary works:<br><br>"The poetry of Wallace Stevens furnishes excellent examples of varied worlds of color – peacocks, barbaric glass, Chinese umbrellas, melon flowers, red birds, and butterflies. It is Stevens who most strongly objects to the ascetic because he makes an effort to see the sky "without the blue". Of themselves, the colors Stevens uses are mildly exotic, suggestive of the effete and near-decadent. When used in an ‘image that is sure," that is, as a qualitative part of the perceptions that express symbolic values, the colors become the difference between and abstract understanding and an experience that stirs us profoundly." (O’Conner, 115).<br><br>In essence, Ford through his complex allusiveness and exploitation of the synesthesia conceit, is reaching for an ontological symbolism based not on color, but on Rimbaud’s disorder of the senses, as represented symbolically by the condition of synesthesia. Following O’ Connor’s dictate regarding the "qualitative part of the perceptions that express symbolic values", Ford thus symbolically represents a "user-created reality", explicitly articulated through the scene in the story which describes the departure of the narrator’s first "mentor" a piano teacher named Mrs. Brithnic:<br><br>"When her face was next to mine, she whispered into my ear, "Seeing is believing," and in that moment, I knew that she had completely understood my plight."<br><br>Correspondences with poetry abound, as in Blake’s "We are led to believe in a lie/When we see <i>with</i> not <i>through</i> the eye." Or this couplet from Hart Crane, which typifies an Anglo-Western trend toward poetic Neo-Platonism fairly well:<br><br>Hieroglyphic<br>Did one see what one saw<br>Or did one see what one looked at?<br>(Crane, 189)<br><br>Of course, Crane’s couplet, written in the 1920's could stand as the ‘mantra’ of modern quantum theory, especially those permutations which stress "observer-based reality" and the like.<br><br>"Although the numerous physicists of the Copenhagen school do not believe in deep reality, they do assert the existence of <i> phenomenal reality</i>, What we see is undoubtedly real, they say, but these phenomena are not really there in absence of an observer. The Copenhagen interpretation properly consists of two distinct parts: 1. There is no reality. 2. Observation creates reality. "You create your own reality," is the theme of Fred Wolf’s <i> Taking the Quantum Leap" </i> (Herbert, 16).<br><br>Or, even more solipsistically:<br><br>"Among observer-created realists, a small faction asserts that only an apparatus endowed with consciousness (even as you and I) is privileged to create reality. The one observer that counts is a conscious observer" (Herbert, 24).<br><br>If you substitute ‘literacy’ and ‘literate’ for ‘consciousness’ and ‘conscious’ in the above quote, you’ll have a good idea of how Ford objectifies his fictional theme of "user-created reality" through the narrative technique of the story, in essence producing a living ‘model’ of the theme through the tension produced via reader confronting text. <br><br>Ford’s SF-nal conceit, synesthesia-meets-shared-world, presents a symbolic vocabulary which intends to express solipsism in an ironic ‘reversal’, a sudden sting, in the manner of Stevens, who frequently expressed sudden shifts from the subjective perception to objective ‘revelation’. The irony, of course, being that the ‘objectification’ of the narrator/poet is still achieved through subjective perception:<br><br>Of Mere Being<br>The palm at the end of the mind,<br>Beyond the last thought, rises<br>In the bronze decor,<br>A gold-feathered bird<br>Sings in the palm, without human meaning,<br>Without human feeling, a foreign song.<br>You know then that it is not the reason<br>That makes us happy or unhappy.<br>The bird sings. Its feathers shine.<br>The palm stands on the edge of space.<br>The wind moves slowly in the branches.<br>The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.<br>(Stevens, 398)<br><br>Again, through Ford’s "systematic confusion of the genres" one has here a solidly <i>speculative</i> story; however, it is also a story which intends to illumine as many literary ‘sensations’ and explicate as many philosophical as scientific concepts – all the while weaving a ‘classical’ narrative with a smooth surface, which masks a labyrinthine tangle of stylistic pyrotechnics ... the story, like the quantum, responds to its observer, deepening in harmony with the reader’s knowledge and expectation.<br><br>3. Decadence and Formalism<br>"The Greeks, with their truly healthy culture, have once and for all <i>justified</i> philosophy simply by having engaged in it, and engaged in it more fully than any other people. They could not even stop engaging in philosophy at the proper time; even in their skinny old age they retained the hectic postures of ancient suitors, even when all they meant by philosophy was but the pious sophistries and the sacrosanct hair-splittings of Christian dogmatics." (Tragic Age, 28).<br><br>Ford’s story presents a kaleidoscope of effects. Like Rodin’s "The Gates of Hell", the story presents a visible, highly-allusive and somewhat obvious ‘theme’ but the intricacies of craftsmanship, of gesture, emotion, perception, fluctuate, feed and are reborn in new variations, the eternally new energy and excitement we feel exploding from Crane, Pollock, Bach, and Stevens himself, when he writes:<br><br>The man bent over his guitar,<br>A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.<br>They said, "You have a blue guitar,<br>You do not play things as they are."<br>The man replied, "Things as they are<br>Are changed upon the blue guitar."<br>And they said then, "But play, you must,<br>A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,<br>A tune upon the blue guitar<br>Of things exactly as they are."<br>(Stevens, 133)<br><br>Stylistic brilliance such as Ford’s is the result of study, knowledge and application of highly refined literary techniques. As such, the story’s deeper symbolism is infused with an almost hyper-textual meaning, in that both the variety of techniques and the <i>immensity</i> of their subsequent permutations are, in fact, "user-created" in that Ford’s audience, confronted with the intricate symbolism and allusiveness of "The Empire of Ice Cream", will be thrust, one reader at a time, into a solipsistic vision of the story, that is, a vision of the story that expands or retracts depending upon the ‘instruments’ measuring it: in point of fact, a literary cosmos, with Ford as the Prime Mover.<br><br>Such extravagant technical accomplishment is seldom encountered in contemporary short fiction of <i>any</i> genre, but even less often in works of short speculative fiction, where stylistic intricacy has often been undervalued. On the other hand, there is nothing excessively ornate about Ford’s prose style in "The Empire of Ice Cream". As usual, Ford has tempered his baroque tendencies with solid neo-Aristotelean logic and plenty of mid-Victorian-esque, linear narrative exposition. Nobody will get ‘lost’ in "Empire" except for the lawless critic who dares, like the quantum theorist to ‘untangle’ this masterpiece and see what lies beneath the Event Horizon.<br><br>In truth, the best criticism that could be leveled at Ford’s story is that it represents a decadent mode of literary expression, that, like Rimbaud and Stevens, Ford has created a microcosm in words – a fully functioning Universe as it were, at novelette length, that incorporates centuries of astronomy, physics, musical composition, poetry, painting, philosophy and literary criticism ... it is like one of the great mechanical automatons built by Jacques de Vaucanson 4. A triumph of the linear mind over the seeming chaos of the unconscious. It is solid evidence of the artist’s mastery of his medium, and of the medium as a ‘pure’ insight into the murky sea of the cosmos. <br><br>Like <i>art-mechanique</i>, however, Ford’s story functions more like a curio than a tool. Thus, the vehemence of the technical mastery and the brilliance of its composition seem to be primarily intended for aesthetic contemplation, a complex intellectual diversion, ‘art for art’s sake’, as it were. <br><br>As an opposite model, one might take any number of ‘commercial’ mass-market SF novels, or any SF literature which eschews stylistic preoccupation for the immediate archetypal impact of SF’s so-called ‘sense of wonder’, which in actuality is a bit of industry vernacular, that would benefit greatly from proper critical and aesthetic illumination. 5<br><br>Ford’s story, simply by being distilled into novelette form, eschews ‘commercialism’, and aims its brilliant arrow straight at the heart of the critic, the refined reader, the literary-mined ... in accomplishing such stylistic and thematic feats, the narrative also fails to forsake the general reader, but responds, as mentioned in a model of ‘reality’ to the subjective observer. This fact, besides being a conclusive demonstration that SF-nal themes and ideas are imminently compatible with ‘classical’ literary technique, and indeed, with any other avenue of intellectual or artistic pursuit. <br><br>If Ford’s style is reflective, subjective, philosophical and driven by stylistic innovation, this represents the aforementioned search for "literary respectability", but it also represents, as its Hugo nomination surely indicates, a brilliant literary accomplishment not relegated, through popular disinterest, to the status of an intellectual curio, for specialists only.<br><br>In times of turmoil, with our actual world facing global-political and environmental catastrophes, war, poverty, and an explosion of technology-driven moral and ethical questions, it would seem natural that Speculative Fiction would resonate more explosively with its potential audience (which is, incidentally, <i>anyone</i> who can read) were it to pursue an <i>immediate</i> idiom – one meant to provide a universal, rather than ontological or aesthetic, catharsis.<br><br>Paul Fussel’s groundbreaking study of the WWI generation of British poets "The Great War and Modern Memory" explores the thesis that literary allusion and simplified diction are expedient symbols for a poetry of urgency. Fussel seems to suggest that an exposure to death relegates the artist to a simpler, more universal, more immediate idiom. 6<br><br>Similarly, Hemingway’s legendary treatise on bullfighting, "Death in the Afternoon" recounts the art of bullfighting and forwards the idea of art flourishing in decadence, much as Nietzsche’s impression of ‘classical’ Greek philosophers. In essence, humans are less prone to generate and revere baroque forms of art, ritual, or even plebeian entertainment when the element of death is large, that is, when the bullfight was at it’s ‘pure’ form, man against bull:<br><br>"Bullfighting is based on the fact that it is the first meeting between the wild animal and a dismounted man. This is the fundamental premise of modern bullfighting that the bull has never been in the ring before. In the early days of bullfighting bulls were allowed to be fought which had been in the ring before and so many men were killed in the bull ring that on 20th November 1567, Pope Pius the Fifth issued a Papal edict excommunicating all Christian princes who should permit bullfights in their countries... " (Hemingway, 24).<br><br>It is the fact that the bullfight is <i>ritual</i> not athletic competition that allows for its artistry and deeper existential or even religious catharsis:<br><br>"We, in games, are not fascinated by death, its nearness and its avoidance. We are fascinated by victory, and we replace the avoidance of death by the avoidance of defeat... " (Hemingway, 25).<br><br>The eventual outcome, however, of decadence in the bullfight, threatens to lead to its complete suppression, at least according to the thesis of Hemingway’s monumental aesthetic/philosophical work. There is a golden time in any art, where the self-reflective capacity of artists and the influence of established tradition bloom into radiance:<br><br>"I know of no modern sculpture, except Brancusi’s, that is in any way the equal of the sculpture of modern bullfighting" <br>And, gratuity of expression, given the ephemeral nature of any ritual, bullfighting not excepted, – mandatory:<br><br>"Suppose a painter’s canvases disappeared with him and a writer’s books were automatically destroyed at his death and only existed in the memory of those that had read them...." (Hemingway, 95).<br><br>It is Hemingway’s thesis, like Nietzsche’s, that <i>great</i> art – or philosophy – often flowers during times of both social and aesthetic dissipation ... Hemingway, likening the process of aesthetic decadence to wine-drinking says:<br><br>"Wine is one of the most civilized things in the world and one of the natural things of the world that has been brought to the greatest perfection, and it offers a greater range for enjoyment and appreciation than, possibly, any other purely sensory thing which may be purchased. One can learn about wines and pursue the education of one’s palate with great enjoyment all of a lifetime, the palate becoming more educated and capable of appreciation and you having constantly increasing enjoyment and appreciation of wine even though the kidneys may weaken, the big toe become painful, the finger joints stiffen, until finally, just when you love it the most you are finally forbidden wine entirely (Hemingway, 14).<br><br>Likewise, literature and SF – though one’s kidneys and big toe may be safe enough – what of one’s instinct for universal experience and expression?<br><br>"In wine, most people at the start prefer sweet vintages, Sauternes, Graves, Barsac, and sparkling wines, such as not too dry champagne and sparkling Burgundy, because of their picturesque quality while later they would trade all these for a light but full and fine example of the Grandes cruses of Medoc though it may be in a plain bottle without label, dust, or cobwebs, with nothing picturesque but only its honesty and delicacy and the light body of it on your tongue, cool in your mouth and warm when you have drunk it &#091;...&#093; So in bullfighting &#091;...&#093; when they have learned to appreciate values through experience, what they seek is honesty and true, not tricked, emotion and always classicism and the purity of execution of all the suertes, and, as in the change in taste for wines, they want no sweetening..." (Hemingway, 15).<br><br>4. Zyzygy<br>Edgar Allen Poe’s visionary ‘prose poem’ "Eureka" provides a likewise self-contained cosmic (or cosmological) ontology; like Ford’s "Empire", Poe’s "Eureka" is an alloy of astronomy, poetry, narrative, the visual arts, music, philosophy and metaphysics. Like Poe, Ford has written a ‘prose poem’ of such cosmic magnitude, that it depends upon the faculties of its prospective reader to unlock its hidden ontological ‘truths’.<br><br>Duplicity, or again, fugue, forms the symbolic frame for Poe’s ontological conceptions:<br><br>"It is Poe’s contention that ‘simplicity’ equals Unity, and that the entire Universe has been constituted from a ‘primordial particle,’ willed by God. Both the unity and the resulting universe are the results and embodiments of God’s will. "This constitution has been affected by <i>forcing</i> the originally and therefore normally&lt; i&gt;One into the abnormal condition of <i>Many</i>." (Hoffman, 282)<br><br>In Poe’s ontology, as in Ford’s, there can be no Unity so long as consciousness disturbs the cosmic pool; it is consciousness, in fact that creates the ontological phenomena we perceive:<br><br>"On the Universal agglomeration and dissolution, we can readily conceive that a new and perhaps totally different series of conditions may ensue – another creation and irradiation, returning into itself – another action and reaction of the Divine Will. Guiding our imaginations by that omnipresent law of laws, the law or periodicity, are we not, indeed, more than justified in entertaining a belief – let us say, rather, in indulging a hope – that the processes we have here ventured to contemplate will be renewed forever, and forever, and forever; a novel universe swelling into existence, and then subsiding into nothingness, at every throb of the Heart Divine.<br><br>"And now – this Heart Divine – what is it? It <i>is our own </i>.<br>(Hoffman, 287)<br><br>The theme of duplicity in Ford’s story is ubiquitous, elaborated through the baroque fugue structure, as well as through direct, archetypal symbolism. As in Poe’s stories, Ford’s narrator is involved with visions of a ‘mysterious woman’, what Jung called the Anima, and this permutation of the duplicity theme is where Ford’s thematic tendencies begin to disassociate, however slightly, from his literary models: Stevens, Poe, Rimbaud, etc.<br><br>"One of Poe’s themes is the fate of the man haunted by his own double, his anima, his weird. Which is the real consciousness, the ‘I’ who speaks or the doppleganger who pursues him?" (Hoffman, 206-7).<br><br>For Jung, the anima represented that part of the psyche of a male-oriented personality that has been suppressed, through social convention, estranged through psychic neglect, and now ‘reborn’ as an autonomous (though largely ‘unconscious’) part of the psyche, longs for unification with the Self, a process ancient alchemists referred to as Zyzygy.7<br><br>Ford’s story allows for no reconciliation between the narrator and his ‘doppleganger’. Instead of Zyzygy, the thematic and narrative denouement reaches deeper into the theme of aesthetic ‘decadence’, art as a triumph over chaotic phenomena – while organic or psychic "Unity" is symbolically and thematically disregarded as unattainable:<br><br>"I’ll not see you again," she said. "My therapist has given me a pill he says will eradicate my synesthesia. We have that here, in true reality. It’s already begin to work. I no longer hear my cigarette smoke as the sound of a faucet dripping. Green no longer tastes of lemon &#091;...&#093; "<br><br>&#091;...&#093;"You may be harming yourself," I said, "by taking that drug. If you cut yourself off from me, you may cease to exist. Perhaps we are meant to be together."<br><br>If Poe’s anima is often prematurely entombed, or strangled, or forever lost, transformed as in "The Oval Portrait" from substance to artistic shadow ... Ford’s narrator suffers an ironic reversal of failed Zyzygy, and thus, solipsism relegated through a final victory of the <i> rational</i> order of artistic expression, to mere self-indulgent delusion.<br><br>The pity of this ironic reversal is not so much its tragic implications for the characters in the story, nor for the deeper disruption it may have on the story’s organic symbolism – but this sudden development of plot, like the denouement of Ford’s "Creation" seems to pull up out of its archetypal modes – its <i> poetically</i> expressive modes, into a last-minute revelation of the ‘machinery behind the curtain’. That is, in "Creation" we are left with a escape window to vent all of the story’s speculative elements; in "The Empire of Ice Cream" we are given a fire escape from the story’s deeper, more disturbing ontological and psychological themes; being delivered with the plot’s climax back to a rational world where the more esoteric, but possibly more profound, themes the story raises can be dismissed as illusory.<br><br>5. Masterpiece<br>A masterpiece in a decadent idiom, "The Empire of Ice Cream" represents the most skillfully constructed and ambitious SF novelette of 2003. The story is masterful not only in construction and theme, but in form and style. Ford’s virtuosic conception and execution of a SF-nal novelette that objectifies complex ontological, scientific, and artistic concepts through a refined literary aesthetic and technique should win every award in the offing, and be reprinted in as many SF anthologies as can accommodate it.<br><br>It is important to note, however, that Ford’s idiom is reflective, baroque, confessional – when perhaps SF should be turning to a sparser, more urgent idiom, responding not to the subjective/solipsistic themes of the artist, but the shared objective themes of political and social realities. At the level of mass consciousness, escapism through archetypal symbols and plots that arrive at socially cathartic articulation, that is, works which evoke a popular ‘sense of wonder’ as opposed to aesthetic and literary refinement, may likelier result in some sort of archetypal renewal for both the SF genre and its audience.<br><br>That said, Ford has shown clearly in "The Empire of Ice Cream" that a search for ‘literary respectability’ is not incompatible with the popular response to SF works. We can only hope that Ford will, indeed, take home the Hugo for his masterpiece. <br><br><br>&nbsp;Footnotes<br>1. It’s perfectly obvious that some sort of search for ‘literary respectability’ has, indeed become, whether by design or instinct, a concern among prestige SF editors. This year’s Nebula Award winning titles for short fiction and novelette comprised a not-surprising sweep of ‘literary’ SF for Ellen Datlow and SCI FICTION. Both of SCI FICTION’S winners this year are studies in classical composition, both rely on expository narrative to a degree which would be calamitous for pulp or commercial short fiction, and both stories rely on a sophisticated employment of literary allusion, esoteric enough that a better-than-nodding acquaintance with Wallace Stevens’ poetry, Bach’s fugue cycles, and the literary canon of James Tiptree Jr. are helpful, if not essential, for comprehending these works to any meaningful degree. As for GVD, don’t stories composed entirely of footnotes qualify as literary excursions? If not, certainly modern ‘caligramme’ in the manner of Mallarme and Apollinaire should fit the bill! So let us lay aside for the moment the question of whether or not the prestige editors like Datlow and Van Gelder are searching for ‘literary respectability’. They are not only searching for it – they are finding it — and the more provocative question is: who’s paying attention?<br>2. For more on synesthesia please see "The Thackery T. Lambshead Guide to Eccentric and Discredited Diseases." <br>3. That is, science-fictional.<br>4. For further elaboration on Ford’s interest in pre-industrial ‘robotics’, see his story, "Creation", F&amp;SF, May 2002. <br>5. Any volunteers? <br>6. Those interested in pursuing the idea of visionary or experiential urgency as a catalyst for creating an immediate aesthetic idiom may start with Fussel’s book, or look nearly anywhere where true literary revolution flourishes. <br>7. For more on Alchemy and Zyzygy, please see: "Psychology and Alchemy" or "Alchemical Studies" both books are by C.G. Jung, and are widely available. <br><br><br>Works Cited<br>1. Benford, Gregory, Ed. Nebula Showcase 2000, Harcourt Inc., 2000<br>2. Nietzsche, Friedrich. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Gateway, 1969.<br>3. Schmidt, Paul, Translator, Ed.. Arthur Rimbaud Complete Works, Harper and Row Publishers, Inc., 1967<br>4. Simon, Marc, Ed.. Complete Poems of Hart Crane, Liveright, 1986.<br>5. Stevens, Holly, Ed.. Wallace Stevens: The Palm at the End of the Mind, Selected Poems and a Play, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1971<br>6. O’Connor, William Van, Ed.. Sense and Sensibility in Modern Poetry, University of Chicago Press, 1948.<br>7. Herbert, Nick. Quantum Reality: Beyond the New Physics, an Excursion into Metaphysics ... and the Meaning of Reality, Anchor Books, 1985. <br>8.Nietzsche, Friedrich. Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks, Regnery Gateway, Inc., 1962.<br>9.Hemingway, Earnest. Death in the Afternoon, Penguin Books, 1932.<br>10. Hoffman, Daniel. Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe, Anchor Press, 1973.<p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2004, &nbsp;Daniel Blackston</p>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:00:19 +0000</pubDate>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Stargate SG-1: The Illustrated Companion]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=93&amp;PID=92&amp;title=stargate-sg1-the-illustrated-companion#92</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Stargate SG-1: The Illustrated Companion<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 6:59am<br /><br /><b>Stargate SG-1: The Illustrated Companion, by Heather Hunt&nbsp;</b><div><br></div><div>Stargate SG-1 The Illustrated Companion<br>by Thomasina Gibson Seasons<br>Titan Books <br><br>Stargate SG-1 The Illustrated Companion Seasons 1 and 2 &nbsp;<br>2001, ISBN 1-84023-354-0<br><br>Stargate SG-1 The Illustrated Companion Seasons 3 and 4<br>2002, ISBN 1-84023-355-9<br><br>Stargate SG-1 The Illustrated Companion Seasons 5 and 6<br>2003, ISBN 1-84023-606-X<br><br>All three books get a 9 rating or 4.5 stars.<br><br>The meat of Thomasina Gibson's three companion guides are the 2-page spreads devoted to each episode, which include a half page plot synopsis, one and a half pages of comments by cast and crew, one black and white photo, and occasional boxes that highlight a new species, piece of technology, or recurring character that pertains to one of the series' story arcs.<br><br>The books also contain forwards and afterwards by key members of the production team. After the episode reviews, the books include full character biographies of the main characters plus several recurring characters. The guides also feature Behind the Scenes sections that cover the various departments that put the show together. Finally, every book contains a report on "Stargate and the Fans."<br><br>Specifically, the first guide has a Forward by co-creator Brad Wright and an Afterward by co-creator Jonathan Glassner as well as illustrated articles on Production Design, Visual Effects, Make-up, and Costuming.<br><br>The guide for seasons 3 and 4 contains a Forward by co-executive producer Michael Greenburg, an Afterward by writer Robert C. Cooper and illustrated articles on Production Design, Visual Effects, Costuming, and Locations.<br><br>The third guide has a Forward by Amanda Tapping, an Afterward by Brad Wright, and illustrated Behind the Scenes articles on Production Design, Visual Effects, Hair and Makeup, and Music.<br><br>These are all the good things that make these books true companions. Keeping them by your TV remote and referring to them as you watch will greatly enhance your enjoyment of the episodes.<br><br>The books could be better, however, and as Titan prepares, I hope, to publish another companion for Seasons 7 and 8, I hope they get the budget to make some improvements. First of all, some color illustrations would be fantastic. If they can't afford to do the entire book in color, at least have a center section with full-color photos-not the promotional shots that are available anywhere on the net, but behind the scenes and on the set shots that fans will really love.<br><br>Less expensive improvements include:<br><br>1. A title page at the beginning of each season, so we can see which episodes are season openers and which are finales. The current lack of a divider between seasons is awkward.<br><br>2. An index of episode titles so that readers don't have to flip through the whole book every time they want to look up a particular episode. <br><br>3. An indication of which episodes are Part 1, Part 2, etc. <br><br>4. A listing on the episode discussion pages of all other episodes that relate to this episode. <br><br>5. A listing on the episode discussion page of all the story arcs that are touched on in this episode. <br><br>6. Appendix A: A brief synopsis of each story arc that Stargate contains along with a listing of all the episodes that contain story elements in this arc. <br><br>7. Appendix B: A brief synopsis of each main character's story arc along with a listing of all the episodes that advance that character's story. <br><br>8. Appendix C: A listing of all the scenes that were cut from episodes. (Optional, but this would give the fans fiction ideas to last another decade or two.)<br><br>There, that's not too much to ask, is it? All very doable and not too expensive. I'm sure fans would pay a few more shekels for these added benefits.<br><br>And if Season 8 is indeed the last (say it ain't so), this would be a wonderful way to provide a final chronicle of the great epic that is Stargate SG-1.<p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2004, &nbsp;Heather Hunt</p></div>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 06:59:06 +0000</pubDate>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : Two Reviews]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=92&amp;PID=91&amp;title=two-reviews#91</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> Two Reviews<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 6:57am<br /><br />Two Reviews: NFG: Writing with Attitude and The 3rd Alternative, by Heather HuntTwo magazines are under review here, both from outside the U.S.A. but available for purchase on the wonderful global marketplace that is the Internet. Canada's "NFG: Writing with Attitude" is available at <a href="http://www.nfg.ca" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">www.nfg.ca</a> and England's "The 3rd Alternative" or TTA as it likes to refer to itself can be accessed at <a href="http://www.ttapress.com" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">www.ttapress.com</a>.<br><br>NFG (incidentally I never did figure out exactly what nfg stands for) is the new kid on the block. I had Volume 1 Issue 3 for review, which I'm assuming is the third issue. The youth of the publication shows in its straightforward layouts and the mixed quality of contributions. The simple pages are not a detriment to this reader, however, because the large amount of white space gives the text breathing room and makes it easier to read than the densely packed pages of TTA.<br><br>NFG also scores with a full-color center spread of artwork along with a smattering of black and white art as well as precious few advertisements throughout the magazine. This issue includes poetry and entries from the "Great 69er Contest," which is for stories of, you guessed it, 69 words.<br><br>Several of the poems and some of the stories, namely "Euthanasia Day at the Children's Shelter" (though it really needs a new title that doesn't give away the shock value before the reader even gets started!) have merit though I wasn't too impressed with any of the "Great 69er" entries. Writers come from Canada, U.S.A., and U.K. and brief biographies are included. I wish the bios were included with the stories, however, and not grouped at the end of the magazine. &#091;See TTA review.&#093;<br><br>DISCLAIMER: The magazine definitely deserves an NC-17 rating, with Kaolin Fire's "The Last To Have Sex" being the farthest outside the bounds of taste in his weak storyline that serves no purpose other than an excuse to create gratuitous porn.<br><br><b>"The 3rd Alternative"</b><br>Issue 33 Winter 03<br>Issue 35 Summer 03<br>Each issue 66 pages<br>Cover price: $7.00 US<br><br>TTA has published 35 issues (as of Summer 03) and its experience shows. These pages are densely packed with lots of stories, artwork, and reviews. If you're interested in the state of the science fiction and dark fantasy worlds in Britain, then this magazine is for you. <br><br>The quality of stories overall is of a higher level than those in NFG from subject matter to execution. In fact, the best story from all 3 magazines is "The Butterflies of Memory" by Ian Watson from Issue 35. Another plus is that author biographies appear at the conclusion of their works, which is the perfect place; if I enjoy their story then I can see what else they have done without having to flip to the back of the magazine.<br><br>In addition to the stories, each issue includes a "celebrity" interview: Brian Aldiss in Issue 33 along with a new story and John Connolly in Issue 35. At the back of the magazine are dozens of in-depth reviews some of which are accompanied by brief interviews with the authors. These pages are literally packed with information in print that can only be classified as "fine."<br><br>Readers certainly get their money's worth with TTA (though they may need a visit to the eye doctor after reading the review pages). NFG is also worthwhile and is much easier on the eyes. If money is a consideration, then decide which side of the pond you're interested in: if North America then go for NFG, if England then go for TTA.<p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2004, &nbsp;Heather Hunt<span style="line-height: 1.4;"></span></p>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 06:57:54 +0000</pubDate>
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   <title><![CDATA[Articles : The Submission Pile, by Christopher Stires]]></title>
   <link>http://forum.sfreader.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=91&amp;PID=90&amp;title=the-submission-pile-by-christopher-stires#90</link>
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    <![CDATA[<strong>Author:</strong> <a href="http://forum.sfreader.com/member_profile.asp?PF=1">SFReader</a><br /><strong>Subject:</strong> The Submission Pile, by Christopher Stires<br /><strong>Posted:</strong> Mar-09-2015 at 6:56am<br /><br /><b>The Submission Pile, by Christopher Stires</b><div><br></div><div>The prose and dialogue have been polished. &nbsp;So have the characterizations and setting. &nbsp;Grammar and spelling have been triple-no, quadruple-checked. The opening is a grabber and the ending is inevitable but not in the least bit predictable.<br><br>Yes. &nbsp;Story is done.<br><br>Now select the appropriate 'zine. &nbsp;Reread their guidelines. &nbsp;Then print a fresh, crisp copy of the story. &nbsp;Write a dazzling but humble cover letter. &nbsp;Attach Self-Addressed-Stamped Envelope. &nbsp;Slide into 9" by 12" brown envelope and head to the post office. &nbsp;<br><br>Or.<br><br>Attach RTF file or WORD doc or HTML text to dazzling but humble e-mail cover letter (or embed in the body of the letter if the 'zine has had virus problems) and click SEND button.<br><br>Story is now winging its way by snail mail or the Internet highway to a 'zine office where an editor will cheer its arrival and accept it within hours. &nbsp;Later it will be reprinted as the lead in Datlow's Year's Best in Fantasy and Horror &nbsp;It will win the Asimov, Edgar, and Pulitzer. &nbsp;Cameron and Drew will duke it out to play the female protagonist and Kurt is the only one who can play the loner hero properly. &nbsp;And … wait a sec-<br><br>An editor will cheer its arrival?<br><br>How many submissions arrived at the 'zine office this month? &nbsp;Ten? &nbsp;Twenty? &nbsp;A thousand? &nbsp;Quick, where's my old, beat-up copy of the Novel &amp; Short Story Writer's Market? &nbsp; Let's see. &nbsp;Seventeen receives 200 submissions each month and Tattoo Review gets twenty. &nbsp;Woman's World Magazine receives a staggering 2500 romance and mystery submissions every month and all are under 1500 words. Okay, that's nice to know but those aren't my markets. &nbsp;I write horror, fantasy, science fiction, hard-boiled thrillers and an occasional mainstream piece. &nbsp;Why aren't those submission rates listed? <br><br>To the computer then and on to Ralan's (Ralan.com, for those who don't know, is Ralan Conley's incredible speculative fiction market web-site). &nbsp;No submission data is listed there either. &nbsp;But there is the next-best thing - email addresses. &nbsp;I'll ask the editors themselves.<br><br>And I did.<br><br>"A few hundred per month," answered Ellen Datlow, fiction editor at SciFi.com.<br><br>Brett Alexander Savory, editor-in-chief, of The Chiaroscuro wrote, "We receive about 100 fiction submissions per month at ChiZine. &nbsp;However since we raised our rates from three cents to five cents per word (USD) on September 1st, we've received about 60 submissions in the first four days. &nbsp;So only time will tell how much the pay increase will up our submissions log."<br><br>"It's hard to say. &nbsp;We're not keeping a log of every submission, so I can only guestimate," responded Lou Anders, senior editor of Argosy. &nbsp;"I would guess around 400 a month at present … we could easily hit the 1000 to 2000 mark once our first issue is out and people see it."Eric M. Heideman, editor-in-chief of Tales of the Unanticipated wrote, "We're only open for submissions for a month once a year. &nbsp;During that month we get 200 - 250 submissions."<br><br>"Currently in the database are 2265 entries for submissions … the 2265 perhaps reflects a year," said Carina Gonzalez, assistant editor of Realms of Fantasy. "Obviously some months are more than others. &nbsp;People write more in the winter when they can't go out. &nbsp;And whenever a big genre movie comes out, they get inspired and there's a new wave. &nbsp;But it's about 200 submissions a month. &nbsp;Twenty or so is comprised mostly of artwork, letters to the editor, requests for guidelines, article submissions, incorrectly submitted material etc."<br><br>Christopher Rowe, fiction editor of &nbsp;Say… stated, "I don't actually keep track. &nbsp;Any number I gave you would be purely a guess, and even then, our publishing history and model don't match up with a quantitative analysis very well. &nbsp;We've only been accepting unsolicited submissions for about a year and a half, we have reading periods, and the number has steadily increased with each (open) month."<br><br>"We opened our doors to submissions January '03," replied Shar O'Brien, editor-in-chief of NFG, "and we're topping the 4,000 mark to date {September 2003}."<br><br>Elizabeth Bear, managing editor of Abyss &amp; Apex, responded, "It varies pretty heavily, actually. I would say we receive about 150 submissions a month--on an average, a little more than three a day. Which means about 300 per issue (we publish bimonthly). So odds of acceptance on any given story are around one percent."<br><br>Planet Relish's editor-in-chief, Mark Rapacioli, wrote, "Planet Relish is a strange case, as our hiatus during 2002 has brought the number submissions down substantially. &nbsp;In 2001, right before the hiatus, we were receiving about 200 submissions per month. &nbsp;Right now, nine months into our glorious comeback, we are at around 50 submissions per month. &nbsp;As we do more promotion (such as the recent reading session at TorCon3), I expect the number to rise again." &nbsp; <br><br>Jed Hartman, senior fiction editor of Strange Horizons wrote, "…often when people ask me about number of submissions {we receive} they then go on to talk about the 'chances' of being published in a given venue as a function of number of submissions &nbsp;-- at SH we publish four stories a month, so in one sense the odds are one in 50, while at Asimov's it's more like one in 125 … I'm not sure the odds/chances approach is really a good way of thinking about it, because no editor chooses stories randomly from a slush pile; if a writer sends us a story that we love, the chances are close to 100% that we'll publish it, while for a story that we hate, the chances are zero per cent. &nbsp;It's more complicated that that, of course…"<br><br>Thanks to all the editors who kindly took time to respond to my query. &nbsp;Below are the monthly submission rates I accumulated. All are paying markets (at least a small stipend). &nbsp;Some are print magazines, others are web-zines. &nbsp; They are listed from smallest amount of submissions per month to most <br><br><table cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" border="1" style="font-family:arial;font-size:10pt;" align="center"><t><tr>	<td colspan="2" align="center">SUBMISSION RATES PER MONTH:</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Chaos Theory: Tales Askew</td>	<td align="center">4 - 10</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Anotherrealm</td>	<td align="center">20 - 30</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Oceans of the Mind</td>	<td align="center">25 - 50</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Albedo One</td>	<td align="center">30 - 40</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">3-Lobed Burning Eye</td>	<td align="center">30 - 45</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Full Unit Hookup</td>	<td align="center">35</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Quantum Muse</td>	<td align="center">35 - 40</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Challenging Destiny</td>	<td align="center">40</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Naked Snake Online</td>	<td align="center">40</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Planet Relish</td>	<td align="center">50</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Aoife's Kiss</td>	<td align="center">50 - 55</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Horror Garage</td>	<td align="center">50 - 200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Fortean Bureau</td>	<td align="center">60</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Paradox</td>	<td align="center">70 - 100</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Vestal Review</td>	<td align="center">80 - 100</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Amazing Journeys</td>	<td align="center">100</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine</td>	<td align="center">100</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Chiaroscuro</td>	<td align="center">100</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Would That It Were</td>	<td align="center">100</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Artemis</td>	<td align="center">100- 200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Far Sector SFFH</td>	<td align="center">120</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">On Spec</td>	<td align="center">120</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Abyss &amp; Apex</td>	<td align="center">150</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Agony in Black</td>	<td align="center">150</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Flesh &amp; Blood</td>	<td align="center">150</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Space &amp; Time</td>	<td align="center">150 - 200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Indy Men's Magazine</td>	<td align="center">150 - 240</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Weird Tales</td>	<td align="center">180 - 360</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Brutarian</td>	<td align="center">200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine</td>	<td align="center">200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">EOTU</td>	<td align="center">200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Realms of Fantasy</td>	<td align="center">200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Strange Horizons</td>	<td align="center">200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Talebones</td>	<td align="center">200</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine</td>	<td align="center">200 - 400</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Happy</td>	<td align="center">200 - 500</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Cemetery Dance</td>	<td align="center">300</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">The Third Alternative (US office)</td>	<td align="center">300</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Argosy</td>	<td align="center">400</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">NFG</td>	<td align="center">445</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">The Pedestal Magazine</td>	<td align="center">500</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Absolute Magnitude</td>	<td align="center">500</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">(The Magazine of) Fantasy &amp; Science Fiction</td>	<td align="center">600</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Analog</td>	<td align="center">800</td></tr><tr>	<td align="left">Asimov's Science Fiction</td>	<td align="center">800 - 850</td></tr></t></table><br><br>That's a lot of stories going out into the world each month. &nbsp;<br><br>I think all writers, whether their stories are accepted or not, should be commended for having the courage to put their work out there to be judged. &nbsp;<br><br>And the editors should be commended for all the reading they do and the selection of the best for their own 'zine. &nbsp;Old tale: &nbsp;A visitor at a New York magazine stared in stunned amazement at the huge mound of envelopes piled in the slush reader's office. &nbsp;"Do all those tell a story?" the visitor asked. <br><br>The reader replied sadly, "I wish they did."<br><br>Now, as for me, do I send this article out snail mail or as an email attachment?<br><br><br><div style="font-family:ariala;font-size:8pt;">What if you could have your every wish ... whim ... and desire? &nbsp;What would you want? And what would others want from you? THE INHERITANCE (A Horror Novel) by Christopher Stires available from <a href="http://www.zumayapublicati&#111;ns.com" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">Zumaya Publications</a>.</div><p ="verdana8bl" align="right">Copyright© 2003, &nbsp;Christopher Stires</p></div>]]>
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   <pubDate>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 06:56:33 +0000</pubDate>
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