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Nat’l Poetry Month… In GOBLINLAND!!!

Nat’l Poetry Month… In GOBLINLAND!!!

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goblin-fruitWhat? Another issue of Goblin Fruit is LIVE??? Aw, heck! Why didn’t you say so in the first place?

Okay, okay. All kidding aside. Yes – the Spring 2011 Issue is out!

And you know what? It’s special.

And you know why? Because I’m in this one it’s Goblin Fruit’s FIFTH ANNIVERSARY!!!

Hurray! Yippee! Three cheers!

They’re doing all sorts of cool things here. Wick and El-Mohtar have their usual, hilarious Note from the Editors, they have a PRIZE DRAWING, and their featured poet, Catherynne M. Valente has put up Act I of a four-act colossus, A Silver Splendour, a Flame, which she says will be, if she does it right, her “Cantos.”

Cat blogged about it yesterday:

This is a Persephone poem. It is a very long Persephone poem. It, in fact, will not complete for one year. The “acts” will come out on the solstices and equinoxes for the next year, as is appropriate for Our Girl. It is a sprawling thing, with much experimentation and madness. It is Persephone as a Vaudeville show. It is difficult and it is thorny and it is, I hope, beautiful. I hope you like it. I hope you’ll all read it, whatever you think about poetry, and Persephone, and girls scribbling verse. Give it a chance.

I started reading it yesterday, thinking just to peek — it is, after all, quite long — and then I fell in. Into a pool of my own slobber. I mean, I can’t even, AAAUUGGGHH!

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James Enge to do Morlock Trilogy: Tournament of Shadows

James Enge to do Morlock Trilogy: Tournament of Shadows

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morlock41I can’t help it! I must speak, and I must speak now, for I just found out about it. John O’Neill will probably glare at me, because once he hears, he’ll immediately want to post about it, and then he’ll discovered that I already have!!!

*cue maniacal laughter, canned music of doom*

But! But! So, I was cruising LiveJournal, you know, like you do, and there was a James Enge post, so I stopped by (which I always must, compulsively strewing comments like candy wrappers, and then suffering a guilty conscience about the inevitable litter of exclamation points), and there it was…

THIS ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

I’ve signed with Lou Anders at Pyr to do three more Morlock books. The contracts were dated March 25–Fall of Sauron Day! Coincidence, or destiny?

This will actually be a trilogy, not three standalone books. Each book will have its own story (because I believe in plot resolution) but each book will depend on its predecessor(s) more than the three books of Morlock in exile did. It’s not a prequel trilogy, though. It’s an origin story. The trilogy as a whole is titled Tournament of Shadows. The first book, which should be out next year, is called A Guile of Dragons. Which is about as much as I should say, since I’m not done with it yet…

There. Did that not just make your day???

For those of you who don’t know, Morlock Ambrosius rocks my world, your world, the Sea of Worlds, and any other world you can think of. He is a Maker, a son of Merlin, a Crooked Man, a crow-talker, a sometime drunk, a dragonslayer, a friend to werewolves and the bane of things that want to kill him. Novels thus far featuring him? Why, they are Blood of Ambrose (nominated last year for the World Fantasy award), This Crooked Way and The Wolf Age.

All of which, may I add, are worthy of your time: at the cost of meals, sleep and possibly your dignity as you find yourself trawling Enge’s LiveJournal and leaving a slew of capital letters in your wake…

Selling SF & Fantasy: 1969 Was Another World

Selling SF & Fantasy: 1969 Was Another World

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seas-with-oystersI think what many aspiring writers today fail to grasp — very much as a result of not having been there — is that 1969 was another world.

Books were sold and distributed very differently. Big chain bookstores barely existed. There were many times more distributors than there are today. Science fiction mass-market paperbacks could be found in drugstores or bus stations, as could the digest magazines.

It was the time of the much maligned “science fiction ghetto” but really a time of innocence, in which we tended to assume that if you made it into the pro ranks, you were there for life. (How else could a writer as unimportant as, say, Robert Moore Williams have continued to publish over 40 years?)

There were no post-novelist writers, i.e. good, respected writers still writing but unable to sell novels anymore.

As somebody commented in one of those very early SFWA Forums I have been reading (I have them back to issue #3), “It’s a seller’s market. We’ve never had it so good.” This from about 1968.

It was a time in which a writer did not have to worry about selling his fourth novel because of the sales record of the previous three.

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Writers’ Nights, Open Mics, Literary Soirees: The Importance of Community

Writers’ Nights, Open Mics, Literary Soirees: The Importance of Community

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A Reading in the Salon of Mme Geoffrin, 1755
A Reading in the Salon of Mme Geoffrin, 1755

I’m here to talk to you about the benefits of writers’ nights, open mics and literary soirees. Um. As you have seen. In the title. Of this blog.

“What brought this on, Claire?” you ask.

Why, thanks for your interest! I’ll tell ya!

Tomorrow night, my buddy Patty Templeton (one of the mighty slushers and bloggers for Black Gate) is hosting a small private “Fiction Fun Time Potluck ” at her place. I’m very excited. I will dress up, maybe even wear lipstick! There will probably be candlelight and a lot of giggling. And WORDS! Glorious words — from the mouths of aspiring novelists and struggling upstart writers: each of us, manuscripts in hand, getting a moment in the spotlight. My favorite thing ever!

Wikipedia (it being Wikipedia, all normal cautions apply) has the definition of a salon (literary, that is, not hirsute) thus:

Patty "La Marquise" Templeton, our beautiful and educated Patroness.
Patty "La Marquise" Templeton, our beautiful and educated Patroness.
Portrait of salonniere Élisabeth, comtesse Greffulhe, by Laszlo
La Salonniere Élisabeth, Comtesse Greffulhe, by Laszlo

A salon is a gathering of people under the roof of an inspiring host, held partly to amuse one another and partly to refine taste and increase their knowledge of the participants through conversation… Carried on until quite recently, in urban settings, among like-minded people…

…Some scintillating circles formed in the smaller courts which resembled salons, often galvanized by the presence of a beautiful and educated patroness…

I’m not sure how much refinement there’ll be (we all cuss like sailors and flirt like courtesans. But I’ll betcha good working-class wages they didn’t do things all that different in 18th century Paris and Venice), however, I do know we’ll come away with a thorough knowledge of  monsters, robots, murderers, gods and maybe even faeries.

My excitement for tomorrow’s revelries got me thinking about events similar to these I’ve attended or invented over the last few years.

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The Winter Triptych, Papaveria Press, and Doctors Without Borders

The Winter Triptych, Papaveria Press, and Doctors Without Borders

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Have you read Nicole Kornher-Stace’s wickedly twisted fairy tale retelling The Winter Triptych?

I have, and this is what I had to say about it.

“Nicole Kornher-Stace ‘The Winter Triptych’ is an icily glittering marvel of storytelling construction. This wicked tale of evil queens, mad huntsmen, martyred witches and a terrible curse that unfolds over a century executes its sleight-of-hand in diabolical layers. The immediate tableau before your eyes never flags as it pulls you in with its sweeping cast of characters, coldly terrifying villains and earnestly compelling heroines. And underneath it all, piece after piece locks and turns into place, until the entire triptych unfolds in a stunning revelation of inexorable fate, time-bending wonder and blood-curdling horror. I hold Nicole in both awe and envy: at the start of her career, she has already produced a masterwork.”

Although it’s hard to beat this line from Black Gate editrix C.S.E. Cooney:

Nicole Kornher-Stace plays with Time like it was her very own Tetris game.

But you don’t have to take our word for it. You can check out check out this review from Tori Truslow at Sabotage And this one from the indomitable Charles Tan of Bibliophile Stalker.

You can order it directly from the website of the publisher, Papaveria Press, or, if you don’t want to wait on overseas snail mail, you can snag it for your Kindle.

If you buy the book now, or buy anything from the Papaveria Press website, you’re helping out a good cause. Nicole is currently donating all her royalties from book sales to Doctors Without Borders. That includes both The Winter Triptych and her challenging debut novel, Desideria, which Booklist called “exceptionally well-crafted” and “spellbinding.”

Erzebet YellowBoy Carr, the totally awesome artist behind Papaveria Press, is doing likewise. Aside from many beautiful handbound volumes from the likes of Hal Duncan and Catherynne M. Valente, Papaveria published Amal El-Mohtar’s The Honey Month and C.S.E. Cooney’s own Jack o’ the Hills.

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We Live In Small Worlds

We Live In Small Worlds

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neverknewTraveling around the world in eighty days is not only quite possible, but a leisurely journey. One could, on this trip, stop to smell the roses, perhaps do a little sight-seeing on an island or two, and pursue adventure in remote locations. Really, if one were pressed for time, anyone with a passport and a few plane tickets could circumnavigate the globe in about a week or two, depending on the flight paths of the planes.

Before planes, trains, and automobiles, I wonder at the size of the world. I think of all things not as objects divorced from the shifting perspectives of humanity, singular and solid and weighty, but as objects that are shaped primarily and inextricably from the experience of the object. To me, the moon is a slip of paper always out of reach until the day an astronaut landed upon it, becoming soil and sizable stone. To me, the woods and the wild places of the world are forever out of reach, an imaginary landscape where alien life forms like bears and monkeys inhabit the world according to my television screen, where men with cyclopean-eyed tentacles of cameras and wires carry our hyperreal lens into the forested hills beyond the suburbs.

My apartment, down to its tiniest detail, is in many ways a larger space, to me, than all of the Himalayas. What I experience and what I feel, are my life, and the objects and places that are physically present in that life are the ones that are larger to me than ones in the distant horizon, imagined and mythical in its telling, but not really impactful to me in a tangible way. I live in a world that’s defined by how far I can travel in about half a day. My parents’ house is about half a day away by car and plane. My sister’s house, as well. My fiancée lives about forty minutes by car, and together we explore the landmarks and points of interest between us. This is my whole world.

The point of all this is to say that in writing a world, the experience of that world is tied not to the size and shape of stones, hills, but to the experience of them.

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R.A. Lafferty Literary Estate For Sale

R.A. Lafferty Literary Estate For Sale

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past-masterSteven Silver at SF Site is reporting that the estate of R.A. Lafferty, including rights to his 29 novels and 225 short stories, is currently being auctioned off.

The source for the news appears to be an online classified ad at Locus Online, which claims that the “Current bid is $70,000+.”

R.A. Lafferty is the author of the novels Past Master, The Reefs of Earth, Fourth Mansions, and Sindbad: The Thirteenth Voyage, as well as the classic short story collections Nine Hundred Grandmothers, Strange Doings, and Lafferty in Orbit.

He won a Hugo Award in 1973 for the short story “Eurema’s Dam,” and was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula awards for Past Master.

He died in 2002.

900-grandReports have been circulating for some time that the Lafferty estate had withdrawn reprint rights to all of his work, including recent short story collections. While Lafferty’s novels have not generally drawn much attention in recent years, his short stories continue to be highly regarded.

Until recently Wildside Press had been keeping much of Lafferty’s best work in print, including Nine Hundred Grandmothers, The Devil is Dead, The Reefs of Earth, Does Anyone Else Have Something Further to Add?, and many others. Those editions are now out of print.

While it’s not unusual  for literary rights to go to auction, I can’t recall seeing a bulk lot of an author’s entire output auctioned at once — especially one as large as Lafferty’s.

Interested bidders can contact the Lafferty estate.

Fantasy and Lightspeed

Fantasy and Lightspeed

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bgfantasy2John Joseph Adams is the editor of the anthologies By Blood We Live, Federations, The Improbable Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Living Dead (a World Fantasy Award finalist), The Living Dead 2, The Way of the Wizard, Seeds of Change, and Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalypse.

Forthcoming work includes the anthologies The Book of Cthulhu, Brave New Worlds, and The Mad Scientist’s Guide to World Domination.

And guess what else? He is now the editor of Fantasy Magazine and Lightspeed Magazine, the critically-acclaimed online short fiction magazines published by Prime Books.

Here are the guidelines for Fantasy.

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Some Little Infamy

Some Little Infamy

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johannes-cabalI have been asked to write a few words on how the Johannes Cabal novels came to be published with a particular view to explaining some of the intricacies of the publishing trade. Because I am nothing if not didactic (“Didactic” means, among other things, to speak in a lecturely manner. I hope you’re taking notes – there will be a test afterwards), I have also added a few notes of advice at the end for folk who want to get into the professional novel writing gig.

There is no precise moment when Johannes Cabal leapt from my brow, side, or any other part of my anatomy. He was, as is often the way, formed by a slow aggregation of assorted ideas over quite a lengthy period that probably starts sometime in the mid to late 1980s. I had and, I must admit, still have a habit of inventing stories for my own amusement with no intention of writing them down. Usually the reason for not taking it too seriously is because I’m playing with other people’s characters, and the copyright situation discourages me from making the stories concrete; virtual fanfic, if you like.

Back in 1985 I saw a film that, as a Lovecraft fan, I was all set to hate. Instead, having seen Re-Animator I came out of the cinema enthused and excited by such a gonzo approach to Lovecraft’s work. Inevitably, I started playing around with ideas for a sequel. There used to be an old vicarage in Kearsley, southwest of Bolton on the road to Manchester, that caught my eye whenever I went by. It was a tall, severe, Victorian building with a large, circular window on its attic floor, glaring out from beneath the eaves. The window made me think of a Lovecraftian tale, and I imagined a rival to Herbert West living there. Unlike West, however, he used magic upon which he had imposed a scientific rigour. Herbert West comes to him to collaborate with predictably gory results.

I never got very far with this particular story because I found myself becoming more interested in the unnamed magic-using re-animator.

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Race Matters: A Writer Blogs About Process

Race Matters: A Writer Blogs About Process

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bgdancersNearly a decade ago, having spent four nights reading my story “A New Grave For Monique” aloud to a late-night workshop audience, I won an award for fiction from the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference.  The audience (and the conference in general) was uniformly Caucasian.

About a year later, I showed the story to my friend Ellie, who immediately noted that when I introduced the Haitian character, Monique, I stated in the text that she was black.  Not a foul in and of itself, except that I did not introduce any of the story’s many white characters as white, a fact Ellie was quick to note.  Had I read “A New Grave For Monique,” since published in Traps (Darkhart Press, Scott T. Goudsward, Editor), at a conference of African-American or multi-national writers, I suspect I would have won little more than a pie in the face.  And deservedly so.

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