Category Archives: Author Interview

An Interview with Nino Cipri

Nino Cipri was kind enough to drop by today to talk about their debut short fiction collection, Homesick. To start things off, as I usually do, I will make introductions by shamelessly stealing from Nino’s author bio…

Nino Cipri is a queer and trans/nonbinary writer, editor, and educator. They are a graduate of the 2014 Clarion Writers’ Workshop, and earned their MFA in fiction from the University of Kansas in 2019. A multidisciplinary artist, Nino has written plays, screenplays, and radio features; performed as a dancer, actor, and puppeteer; and worked as a stagehand, bookseller, bike mechanic, and labor organizer. Nino’s 2019 story collection Homesick won the Dzanc Short Fiction Collection Prize, and their novella, Finna – about queer heartbreak, working retail, and wormholes – will be published by Tor.com in 2020.

Homesick CoverWelcome, Nino, and congratulations on your debut collection, and your upcoming novella! Without giving too much away, could you give folks a taste of what kind of stories they’ll find in your collection, and talk a bit about what your novella is about?

Thanks for having me! Homesick contains eight reprints that span the entirety of my writing career, along with a new novella about a group of dysfunctional scientists and activists that discovered an extinct species of weasels with its own writing system. Finna is forthcoming from Tor.com in 2020, and is about two coworkers and recent exes that have to team up to rescue a grandmother who wandered into a wormhole in their homegoods store.

Those both sound amazing! I’m always interested in how authors go about assembling short story collections. How did you approach Homesick in terms of what stories to include, and how you ordered them? Is there a certain overarching theme to the collection, or a way you see certain stories of yours being in dialogue with each other throughout the book?

A lot of my work looks at characters who are searching for connection. That searching and yearning is probably the strongest thread throughout these stories, as well as its opposite idea: that what is most familiar to you is driving you away, towards the unknown. “Home” manifests in different ways throughout the collection, and a lot of these characters are estranged from theirs, or become so over the course of the story.

That said, there’s a lot of variety in the stories in terms of aesthetic, tone, and genre. I used different approaches in the stories, or blended them together in a single story. I guess the dialogue you’re asking about is contained in that variety; “home” can mean a thousand things, and its pull can take all kinds of shapes.

I wanted to ask about one of your stories in particular. Dead Air, published at Nightmare Magazine, is one of my favorites of yours, and one of my favorite stories from last year in general. I love found footage narratives, and I’m impressed with the way you created such an effective atmosphere in your piece using found audio footage. Much of the story is implied through silence and the things the characters don’t say. Did you encounter any challenges with this format, working almost entirely with dialog and being unable to use the usual author tricks of visual and other sensory description to immerse the reader? Did your background in radio and theater play at all into the writing of this story?

That story gave me so much trouble. I originally wrote it to be a radio script, but couldn’t figure out an ending and then sat on it for a couple years. I rewrote it as prose for a workshop, but liked the audio transcript format too much to give it up. There’s something about strict and experimental formats, about the careful construction and trickery of it, that excites my writing brain. I like building my own architecture and then bending it.

But none of that is easy, and it necessitates a really long revision process. I wanted some of the horror to come from what went unsaid and unheard between Maddie and Nita — most of my favorite horror refuses to deliver answers or that a neat resolution in which balance/the status quo is reformed. On the other hand, you can’t scare people if they don’t know what the hell is going on. I ended up re-drafting “Dead Air” three or four times before it was hit the right balance.

On a related note, you had another story in Nightmare in 2017, Which Super Little Dead GirlTM are You? Take Our Quiz and Find Out! that uses a quiz format to tell the story. Do you like to periodically set yourself the challenge of telling stories in non-traditional format, or is it a simply a matter of certain formats being the best way to tell certain stories? Are there other formats you’d like to try out for upcoming projects?

Finna CoverI absolutely love stories told in non-traditional formats. Sometimes it’s because those formats do fit better with the pieces of the story I have; with Super Little Dead Girls, I had characters but no plot, which made a personality quiz format perfect. The genre mashup felt like a good way to comment on some of my least favorite tropes in horror, around the way it treats dead women and children. With “Dead Air,” the format adds layers of meaning and complexity onto the story. Sometimes, though, I just like the challenge. I’ve always written in different kinds of genres and media. I’ve been working for a couple of years on a longer experimental, interactive narrative that’s told through a wiki, and includes maps, multimedia, and talk pages. I’ve had to put it on the backburner while I finish other projects, though.

Your partner, Nibedita Sen, is also an amazing author. Would you, or have you, ever collaborate(d) on a writing project together?

We’ve talked about it, for sure, but have both been too busy to try as of yet. (Unless you count writing fanfic that caters to each other?) One of our pipe dreams is to co-edit an anthology (or multiple anthologies!), particularly of queer and trans horror.

Ooh. I bet you’d put together a fantastic anthology! Switching gears a bit, has your role as an educator teaching fiction and seeing the way students engage with stories changed your own approach to writing at all? Has it changed the way you read stories?

Teaching built on the skills that I learned from workshopping and reviewing fiction; learning to analyze the thematic elements of a story, as well as the skill and craft it took to write it. The main questions I was trying to teach my lit and creative writing students was “what was the author attempting here? did they succeed? how and why?” Teaching did show me that people connect to stories (or don’t) for all kinds of reasons. I knew that intellectually before, but it was reinforced over and over again while teaching. (Hearing a bunch of twenty-year-olds ragging on my favorite stories is very humbling!)

It also gave me an excuse to read outside my usual haunts. One of the stories I assigned to my creative writing class was Courtney Milan’s The Governess Affair, which is an amazing historical romance, but not like any of the fiction I usually read. Milan is a master at structuring a relationship-driven story through intertwined character arcs.

Your bio might partially answer this question, but one of my favorite questions to ask authors is about non-writing related jobs. What is the most unusual job you’ve ever had? What did you learn from it, and has any aspect of that job worked its way into any of your stories?

I’ve been working on and off since I was eleven, so I’ve had a lot of jobs. I’ve worked at pet boarders, a state fair, cafes and restaurants, gas stations, plant nurseries, theaters, mail rooms, bookstores. One of my favorite gigs was as a food columnist for a Chicago culture website; it didn’t pay much, but it comped my meals, and it taught me to write on deadline. Plus, I had leeway to write about pretty much anything related to food.

Probably my weirdest job was as a housecleaner? There was something strangely intimate about being up close and personal with someone’s dirty house, though it wasn’t an intimacy I wanted or enjoyed. I learned that most upper-middle class people have terrible taste in decor, and also how to properly dust a room, which are both very important lessons. (A story in Homesick, “Not an Ocean, but the Sea” is partly based on those experiences, and includes a cameo by my least favorite clients’ vacuum.)

With your collection out, and your novella on the horizon, what else are you working on, or have coming up that you want folks to know about?

Those two things are taking up most of my brainspace, along with job-searching. I’m revising a novel that’s based loosely on “Which Super Little Dead Girl Are You?” and trying to figure out what I want my next big writing project to be. In the meantime, I’m writing flash fiction on my patreon and starting up a newsletter, so if you like my writing, those are the best places to consistently find it.

Thanks for stopping by!

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An Interview with Paul Jessup

Paul Jessup was kind enough to drop by my blog as part of the Apex Blog Tour to chat about his novel Close Your Eyes, among other things. All month long, you can snag Paul’s book, and a myriad of other wonderful Apex titles for 25% off with the discount code SEPTEMBER.

Now, to get things started, I will shamelessly steal from Paul’s author bio in order to make introductions.

Paul Jessup is a critically-acclaimed/award-winning author of strange and slippery fiction. With a career spanning over ten years in the field, he’s had works published in so many magazines he’s lost count and three or four books published in the small press.

Close Your Eyes CoverWelcome, Paul! Since this interview is part of the grand Apex Blog Tour, let’s start with your recent Apex novel Close Your Eyes. I’d describe the book as genre-crossing, or perhaps genre-smashing, combining elements of horror and science fiction, while also being lovely and poetic. How would you describe the work to intrigue those who may not be familiar with it yet?

Well, thank you for those kind words! And I think what you said is pretty tantalizing, as well. I guess in a way I would say that it’s a surreal space opera, that has moments that are horrific but it’s not horror, and moments that are pure and beautiful and right. I would say maybe it’s as if Jodorowosky made a Star Wars tie in novel, with maybe Satoshi Kon creating the character designs along with Moebius? And yet that’s still not quite right, is it? It’s a space opera that destroys its own boundaries, and does a lot of things space opera probably shouldn’t do. In a way, it’s a fairy tale, in the old fashioned sense of the word. Full of surrealism, danger, sex, and terror.

That’s a pretty good way to describe it! Your prose in Close Your Eyes borders on poetry, and the images throughout are incredibly striking – from creepy surrogate doll bodies, to a character whose lover is a supernova. Reading the novel almost feels a bit like lucid (or semi-lucid) dreaming. Given how highly visual the novel is, have you ever pictured it being adapted into a visual medium, and if so, what form would that take – animation, graphic novel, some other form? Do you have a dream collaborator you’d want to work with on said adaptation?

Haha, yes! Of course I have. I actually talked about this for a while with my editor, Jason Sizemore, while he was editing the book. Just the usual game of, if this was a movie, who would you cast, etc. And he said something I thought was perfect, that it should be an anime series. And I really feel like it should, the character designs in my head were heavily influenced by Japanese fashion at the time.

I mentioned some dream collaborators above, with Satoshi Kon being one of them. Sadly, Geiger passed, but his designs for the ships he created in Alien and Dune were a huge influence on the ship designs in the book. I loved that organic, cold, and corpselike feel to it all. As if the dead lived on as machinery, and it felt like the perfect expression for how the ships would look and feel.

Switching gears a bit – in addition to novels, you’re also a prolific short fiction writer. Where do you typically start with your writing – an image, a line, a character, or does it vary from story to story? Do you generally have a sense of where you’re going when you begin, or do you let the story take you where it will and discover it along the way?

I usually have an idea, some strange little idea I toy around with for awhile. I do research, I gather images and thoughts, I read tons of books, look at lots of art, trying to get feel for what this idea could be. And then I get a sharp image and a first sentence and I start writing.

From that point on, I just follow the story, I don’t plan anything at all. Most of the research I’d done before gets thrown out completely, and most of the original idea gets tossed aside. But that’s okay, what’s important to me is getting to that start and then letting the story surprise me. I love being surprised. I guess for me the research point is more for gathering images and thoughts and ideas and shoving them into my subconscious mind, to let it sit there and fester and grow.

And then when I write this festering research from before reaches its tendrils into the story, but it’s changed. It’s different, and far more interesting than it could’ve ever been before.

Most of your fiction tends toward the dark and the weird – what draws you in particular to that flavor of speculative fiction? What are some of your favorite works, or recent favorite reads within the speculative fiction genre, dark or otherwise?

I wish I could say why I’m attracted to such things. I’ve thought about it over and over again, and I guess to me there’s a beauty in that dark weirdness, and I love all kinds of beauty. I think it’s terribly narrowminded to not see the beauty in depression, sadness, and death. To only see the beauty in joy, or in reality as a thing of beauty is limiting the human experience.

And at times, I feel like the human experience is all about observing the beauty in the universe. And that includes the beauty of sorrow, of shadows, of the things that run from the light. I was also raised Catholic in a Catholic household, and my whole childhood was haunted by the images of saints being tortured. They were beautiful images, and the faces always seemed beatific, transcendent, not in pain at all. I would say as an adult that they seemed orgasmic, but as a kid I had no idea what that would be. And I think this kind of childhood twisted my experience on what beauty is, what I could be, and how art has conversations with it.

As for modern writers, I know a ton of great ones! It’s so hard to choose. Selena Chambers’ Calls for Submissions is a fantastic collection, as is Georgina Bruce’s This House of Wounds, and Anya Martin’s Sleeping with the Monster, and Laura Mauro’s Sing Your Sadness Deep, Natania Barron’s Wothwood, Michelle Muenzler’s The Hills of Meat, the Forest of Bone. I also know of one fantastic weird horror novel by an amazing writer (and good friend) that’s stuck in agent hell and not getting traction, but I won’t talk about that one here…since no one could read it yet. But I got to read it, because I’m awesome.

Leaving writing aside for the moment, one of my favorite questions to ask authors is about non-writing related jobs. What is the most unusual job you’ve ever had? What did you learn from it, and has any aspect of that job worked its way into any of your stories?

Working trash cleanup at a Renaissance Festival. I did it for about 8 years, through High School and College. It was definitely an experience, and perfect for my teens and early twenties. Lots of people my age, all living a Bohemian life, wandering about making money with acting and music. Made lots of great friends, and it was a highly fertile artistic experience.

And because I worked trash I got to see the nasty side of things, too. Maggot covered turkey legs, dead cats, drowned animals in the water supply. It’s odd how beautiful that could be in a faux medieval wood, with sunlight dappling on the corpse, lying there with eyes open as if to say, hello.

What’s next for you? What are you working on, or have coming up that you want folks to know about?

Working on a big fat novel shaped thing, kind of like a similar approach to epic fantasy that I did with space opera and Close Your Eyes. Though that one is probably at least still a year away from being complete, and who knows if anyone will ever bite on such weirdness to publish it. I have a haunted house novel (about a house haunted by the ghosts of a 60’s suicide cult) that I just finished last year and have shopped around for a bit. As always, writing lots of short stories and articles for places like Strange Horizons and SFWA, as well as local newspapers and other places.

I’m also working on a video game! An old school console style RPG, with big epic plot completely adorned with the usual Jessupian weirdness you’ve come to expect. You play a shadow witch, captured at the start of the game by bone witch who wants to cut your heart out and use it for a spell. You’re in the cage, your desperate to get out, and a voice starts calling out from a box on a table near you…

And then it gets really weird. And yet the gameplay is old school Dragon Quest and Final Fantasy style gameplay, so in that way it’s all very familiar. I’m having fun making the pixel art and writing the weird dialogue and designing the levels.

That sounds like a lot of fun. Thank you for stopping by to chat!

Certainly! Any time. Hope I was half as interesting as my novel.

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An Interview with Alix E. Harrow

Alix E. Harrow was kind enough to drop by today to talk about her debut novel The Ten Thousand Doors of January, among other things. To get started, I will shamelessly steal from Alix’s author bio in order to make introductions.

Alix E. Harrow is an ex-historian with lots of opinions and excessive library fines, currently living in Kentucky with her husband and their semi-feral children. Her short fiction has been nominated for the Hugo, Nebula, and Locus Awards; The Ten Thousand Doors of January is her first novel.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January CoverWelcome, Alix, and congratulations on the publication of The Ten Thousand Doors of January! It’s a wonderful book, and I feel lucky to have gotten a sneak peek at it! For those who haven’t experienced it yet, would you care to give a sense of what it’s about?

Is there any question more terrifying to a writer than “so, what is your book about?” So innocent! So devastating! But the short version is: it’s 1901, and a girl catches a glimpse of another world through a blue door in a field. Ten years later, she and her terrible dog have to find their way back to through the door with nothing but a mysterious book to help them. It’s about family and history, nowheres and somewheres and in-betweens, bad dogs and good friends and the stories we all inherit.

January is a fantastic character, among many fantastic characters (Bad!) in the novel, and her journey through its pages is magical. What came first in terms of inspiration for this story – the character, the setting, the plot, or some combination of all three?

The first two pages have remained more or less unchanged since the very beginning of everything. I wrote them before I had a plot or an outline or anything at all but the image of a young woman watching the sea, writing her own story. Her story started in an overgrown hayfield in western Kentucky and ended somewhere-very-much else. Most of writing this book was just filling in the gap between point A and point B, which I did by jumbling together everything I love most: a book within a book, a father-quest, footnotes, anticolonial sympathies, dogs, true love.

Doors to other worlds are obviously a key part of your novel, and you also wrote about portal fantasies in your beautiful and bittersweet short story “A Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies.” What draws you to the theme of portal fantasies? Do you have a favorite portal fantasy novel or story? If you a had the opportunity to travel another world, what would your ideal fantasy realm look like, and what means would you use to access it?

So, the thing that attracts me to portal fantasies is that I don’t like them. That’s a lie—I loved Narnia and Wonderland and Peter Pan and Oz as a kid, but I hated each of their endings. Dorothy and Alice waking up; the Pevensies tumbling back through the wardrobe, crown-less; Wendy growing old. They left me with this hollow, haunted feeling—what Neil Gaiman refers to as “a hole in your heart” in The Ocean at the End of the Lane—and I’ve spent more time than I’d really like to think about trying to fill it.

And then in grad school I studied empire through the lens of children’s literature, and realized that portal fantasies were often actually colonial fantasies, imagining chaotic foreign lands that needed civilized white children to take them firmly in hand. And after that I started thinking about turning portal fantasies inside out and backwards—making them about home-going rather than escape, about belonging rather than conquering.

(My ideal fantasy realm is something like Earthsea, where I would tend goats and work women’s magic and no one would ever know my name. Or maybe it’s Hogwarts, where I teach the History of Magic properly. Or maybe it’s Novik’s Wood in Uprooted? Anyway, I live in a house like Howl’s and have doors leading to every realm on different days of the week).

Your novel, and many of your short stories, make use of historical settings. What appeals to you most about writing about the past? When choosing a setting for a story, do you pick a period you’re already familiar with, or one that gives you an excuse to learn something new, or does it all depend on the story? Is there a particular time period you’re more drawn to than others?

What appeals to me about the past is the illusion that I can fully know it. The present feels too complex and ever-changing and vast to ever accurately represent it, while the past feels comfortably finite. The past can be divided into eras and periods; it can be assembled into sixteen-week syllabi; it can be footnoted in Chicago style and peer-reviewed. That’s why I tend to cling nervously to the end of the nineteenth century—it’s what I studied in grad school, and I feel more confident stomping around in it, tossing fairy dust in the corners.

You’re currently based in Kentucky, and I admit it’s an area I don’t know much about. What are some of your favorite places in the area to visit in order to recharge your creative energy and draw inspiration, or places you like to recommend to those visiting for the first time?

Kentucky is beautiful and terrible and broke as hell. I both love it and hate it, several times a day—I suspect lots of people feel that way about the places they’re from.
Here are the places that make me love it:
• Lake Nolin (a dammed river south of Elizabethtown that smells like catfish and sycamores and my entire childhood)
• Red River Gorge (obviously)
• Farm Market (a tienda/tamale place on New Circle Road in Lexington. Last week the owner had a new grandbaby, got emotional, and ended up giving my kids two free pinatas. 10/10 would recommend)
• Noodle Nirvana in Berea (a donut shop by day and a noodle place by night)
• A certain overgrown hayfield just south of Bowling Green (Door not guaranteed)

Here are the places I strongly do not recommend:
• The Creation Museum (obviously)
• The World’s Only Museum of Ventriloquism (due to the obvious haunting)

One of my favorite questions to ask authors is about non-writing related jobs. What is the most unusual job you’ve ever had? What did you learn from it, and has any aspect of that job worked its way into any of your stories?

Blueberry raking in Maine. I learned how to keep my shirt tucked in so I didn’t burn the everloving hell out of my lower back; how to play Dutch Blitz; how to jump an ancient VW van; how to fall in love. Every love story I ever write will be that one, I think.

Now that The Ten Thousand Doors of January is out in the world, what’s next for you? What are you working on, or have coming up that you want folks to know about?

My next book was pitched as “suffragettes, but witches,” and follows three sisters working to bring witching back into the world. I just handed its primordial first-draft to my agent. By fall of 2020, maybe it will have evolved into an actual, readable book.

It sounds fabulous! Thanks for stopping by!

Thank you for all the work and service you give the SFF community—and your own lovely stories!

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An Interview with Sarah Pinsker

Sarah Pinsker was kind enough to drop by today to talk about her debut collection Sooner or Later Everything Falls into the Sea, and her debut novel, A Song for a New Day. To kick things off, I will shamelessly steal from Sarah’s author bio in order to make introductions.

Sarah Pinsker is the author of the novelette “Our Lady of the Open Road,” winner of the Nebula Award in 2016. Her novelette “In Joy, Knowing the Abyss Behind,” was the Sturgeon Award winner in 2014 and a Nebula finalist for 2013. Her fiction has been published in magazines including Asimov’s, Strange Horizons, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Lightspeed, Daily Science Fiction, Fireside, and Uncanny and in anthologies including Long Hidden, Fierce Family, Accessing the Future, and numerous year’s bests. Her stories have been translated into Chinese, Spanish, French, and Italian, among other languages.

Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea Cover Welcome, Sarah, and congratulations on not only your debut collection, but your debut novel coming out this year! Could you give folks a taste of the sorts of stories they’ll find in your collection, and without giving too much away, a hint of what your novel is about?

Hello! For the collection, we tried to choose a mix. I have about fifty published stories, and it was definitely hard narrowing it down. In the end we went with a mix of stories that had gotten some attention and stories that I liked but maybe not as many people had seen. As for content, I really liked this blurb from the publisher: “The journey is the thing as Pinsker weaves music, memory, technology, history, mystery, love, loss, and even multiple selves on generation ships and cruise ships, on highways and high seas, in murder houses and treehouses. They feature runaways, fiddle-playing astronauts, and retired time travelers; they are weird, wired, hopeful, haunting, and deeply human.” That’s as good a summation as any.

The novel, A Song For A New Day (Coming from Berkley on September 10, 2019) is set in the same world as my novelette “Our Lady of the Open Road,” and features a couple of overlapping characters. It’s set in a scared and narrowed near future where people have retreated rather than risk putting themselves in danger, and features two women trying to find their purpose in that setting, one of whom remembers what came before, and one who grew up in this new order. Music, connection, technology…

Both the collection and the novel sound amazing, and I can’t wait to read them! I’ve been a fan of your work since “In Joy, Knowing the Abyss Behind”, and you’ve written so many fantastic stories over the years. One of my recent favorites is “I Frequently Hear Music in the Very Heart of Noise“, published last year at Uncanny. It feels more experimental than many of your other pieces in terms of structure and a less traditional narrative. Could you talk a bit about how the story came together, and what inspired it?

I love that story. I needed a story to bring to the Sycamore Hill workshop, and I had absolutely nothing. I found myself in a lovely library, and I decided to start pulling non-fiction off the shelves until I figured out my story. I happened upon a book called The Streets Where They Lived – A Walking Guide to the Residences of Famous New Yorkers, which is a book of walking tours. As I paged through it, it occurred to me that these walking tours were a form of time travel. A tour of a single block in midtown would bring you James Dean and Dorothy Parker, or a single building might offer you a glimpse into the lives of both Sylvia Plath and Phylicia Rashad, decades apart. They didn’t differentiate. And this story came to me that was a layering of people and stories and song, and the fantasy of a character invoked into the midst of all the real details, and weird comings-together of details that I hadn’t expected to connect, and also a love letter to the energy of New York. I grew up in the city, and I don’t think I’ll ever live there again, but there’s a feeling I get when I’m there that is unlike anyplace else I’ve been.

Music is a big part of your life, and as you mentioned, a recurring theme in many of your stories. I’m curious – do you listen to music as you write, and/or do any of your stories have a mental soundtrack that you put together either while writing or after the fact? Have you ever written an original song based on one of your stories or vice versa?

I don’t listen to songs as I write! Music takes up too much of my attention. I can sometimes put on something instrumental and let it fade, but for the most part I prefer silence. Or, oddly, coffeeshop noise, which can include conversations, cappuccino machines, and their music, so long as it isn’t my music. That said, many of my stories do have mental soundtracks. I don’t usually get around to actually making a playlist, though sometimes there’s a song I’ll need to hear before or after I write, or a series of songs. I’ve definitely written parts of a lot of the songs that show up in my stories, but my plan is to keep those to myself. I want people to imagine for themselves what the songs and the bands sounds like. I don’t think I’ve ever done the reverse, if the reverse is writing a story based on one of my songs; usually a song is complete and stands alone. I guess I’ve written stories based on other people’s songs, but that feels like a different beast. That’s usually because they’ve allowed some vagueness for me to explore that isn’t there for me in my own songs, since I know what lies between the lines.

A Song for a New Day CoverSticking with music, how does assembling a collection compare to assembling an album? Is there any crossover in terms of the way you think about rhythm and the way one piece flows into, compliments, or contrasts with the next, or in terms of building an overarching theme?

Yes, absolutely! I don’t know if other people do this, but I ended up writing the first and last lines onto recipe cards, so that I could try an order, check the flow, then rearrange again. With albums, it’s similar: a lot of listening to beginnings and endings, checking keys and rhythms and modes and instrumentation. You want a strange balance of things that feel good next to each other but don’t sound similar. And then there’s a lot of reminding myself that whatever I choose is right in the end, since nobody else will ever know what the other options might have been.

One last question related to music, but also touching on another of your passions, horses and riding – what are some of the tropes around music and horses that fiction/film always seem to get wrong? Conversely, who really gets those things right?

Ha! I could write a book about this. I’ve led several workshops and conference panels on the subject. An author usually has one chance to win my trust on horse stuff, and if they blow it by having the hero gallop off on a twenty-hand stallion, I’m hard to get back. In film or TV, I usually can’t stand how much the horses talk. They’re constantly whinnying. Horses are pretty quiet unless they’re greeting you because you’ve brought their dinner, or you’re riding away on their best friend and leaving them behind. In books, it tends to be the horse-as-motorcycle scenario, where a horse is a convenient, uncomplaining, form of travel, and for some reason often has to be majestic and huge. The larger your horse the more food you’re going to need to pack for them – and the harder it’ll be for you to hop on and off without a fence or mounting block handy. Horses have likes and dislikes. They go lame. I should probably stop there. Who gets it right? Molly Gloss is a horsewoman, and it shows in her books. Judith Tarr, also. Le Guin doesn’t write a ton about horses, but the first lines of “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas,” with “They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another; they were vastly excited, the horse being the only animal who has adopted our ceremonies as his own” captures horse spirit really well, even as it ascribes human emotions.

You lived in several places, but currently call Baltimore home. What are your favorite things about the city? What are the spots you like to bring guests, or recommend to people visiting for the first time? Are there any particularly fantastical or weird spots in the city that have inspired any of your fiction?

This is another question that I could get carried away with if I let myself. I usually take visitors to the George Peabody Library, which is an absolutely stunning reading room, and sometimes to the Owl Bar, where during Prohibition they used the lit-up eyes of the owl sculptures to tell patrons when a raid was imminent. The American Visionary Art Museum is probably my favorite museum anywhere, for both the weird art and the excellent curatorial notes. If a person were to visit on the first weekend of May, I would get to take them to the AVAM’s kinetic sculpture race, where human-powered sculptures shaped like giant poodles or elephants or the monsters under your bed try to make it through a miles-long course of streets, waterways, mud, and sand.

The fantastical or weird spots that have shown up in my own fiction tend to be on a smaller scale. I have a story that was inspired by the locked room in the attic of our first rental home. The original story in the collection mentions the way the circus used to walk their animals to the arena from the trainyards in West Baltimore, allowing kids a moment of wonder regardless of whether they could afford tickets.

Other than asking about their cities, one of my favorite questions to ask authors is about non-writing related jobs. What is the most unusual job you’ve ever had? What did you learn from it, and has any aspect of that job worked its way into any of your stories?

I’m trying to think if any of my jobs have been that unusual. I’ve run Girl Scout camp riding programs, led trail rides, tutored SATs, played music. I don’t think the tutoring has made it into a story yet, but all three of the other things have. Writing and performing music has definitely taught me a lot about the kind of writer I want to be, and the kind of person I want to be. I’m glad I exorcised some of my cockiness on that career, so I could come into this one without expecting to be owed anything.

With your collection out, and your novel on the horizon, what else are you working on, or have coming up that you want folks to know about?

Um, let’s see. I’m working on another novel, and I have a whole bunch of stories in the hopper waiting to be written, and I have a story that I really like in the anthology If This Goes On, which was just released by Parvus Press. I haven’t gotten my copy yet so I haven’t read the other stories, but it’s edited by Cat Rambo and has a stellar lineup: Nisi Shawl, Andy Duncan, E. Lily Yu, Steven Barnes, Zandra Renwick. I’m proud to be part of that one.

Ooh. I’ll have to check that out! Thanks for stopping by!

Thanks for having me!

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An Interview with Sabrina Vourvoulias

Sabrina Vourvoulias was kind enough to drop by today to talk about the re-release of her debut novel, Ink, which is out now with a shiny new cover and introduction from Rosarium Publishing. To start things off, I’ll make introductions by shamelessly stealing from Sabrina’s author bio…

Sabrina Vourvoulias is the author of Ink, a novel that draws on her memories of Guatemala’s armed internal conflict, and of the Latinx experience in the United States. Her short stories have appeared at Uncanny Magazine, Tor.com, Strange Horizons, GUD Magazine, Crossed Genres, and in a number of anthologies, including Kaiju Rising II (Outland Publications), Sharp and Sugar Tooth (Upper Rubber Boot) and Sunspot Jungle (Rosarium Publishing), all upcoming in 2018-2019. She is freelance bilingual journalist and editor; her pieces have appeared at Public Radio International, Philly.com, Philadelphia Magazine, City and State Pennsylvania, NBC Philadelphia, Telemundo 62, and The Guardian US, among others. Follow her at www.sabrinavourvoulias.com, on Twitter @followthelede and on Facebook @officialsabrinavourvoulias.

Ink CoverWelcome, and congratulations on the re-release of Ink! For those who may have missed the novel the first time around, could you give a little taste of what it’s about?

All across the United States, people scramble to survive new, draconian policies that mark and track immigrants and their children (citizens or not) as their freedoms rapidly erode around them. For the “inked” — those whose immigration status has been permanently tattooed on their wrists — the famous words on the Statue of Liberty are starting to ring hollow. The tattoos have marked them for horrors they could not have imagined within US borders. As the nightmare unfolds before them, unforeseen alliances between the inked of — Mari, Meche and Toño — and non-immigrants — Finn, Del and Abbie — are formed, all in the desperate hope to confront it. Ink is the story of their ingenuity. Of their resilience. Of their magic. A story of how the power of love and community out-survives even the grimmest times.

With its themes of “passing”/”not passing”, and individuals’ status, safety, and access to resources being linked to where they were born, Ink feels especially timely right now. Did the, let’s say flustercluck, of the current political climate play into the decision to re-release the novel now? Overall, could you talk a bit about those themes, how the novel came about, and why this was a story you wanted to tell?

Definitely the world has started to catch up to my worst fears, and so made a rerelease of the novel something to think about and consider. I’m grateful to Rosarium Publishing for having the guts to take it on — not many publishers are interested in reprints to begin with, much less of a provocative novel about immigration dystopia.

The novel came about because I’ve been writing, as a journalist, about immigration issues in the U.S. for more than twenty years, and advocating, as an individual and a person of faith, for the protection of immigrant human rights for the past 15 years. Because I am bilingual and bicultural, I was hearing and reading the horror stories of what was happening to undocumented immigrants (via deliberate legislative criminalization, anti-immigrant policing and enactment of increasingly punitive policies) well before the mainstream media and the public became aware of them.

Also, since I grew up in Guatemala during its brutal 36-year undeclared civil war, I saw really distressing parallels. There was a cautionary tale in the way that, as the Guatemalan government grew increasingly oppressive, the circle of those it targeted became inconceivably large and its methods became unrepentantly inhumane. I also looked to U.S. history to see that moment when our own government decided to turn citizens into non-citizens on the basis of ethnicity and perceived “foreignness,” during the shameful internment of Japanese residents and Japanese-Americans during World War II.

So in my novel, I took existing U.S. immigration policies and/or sentiments, and pushed them to what I believed were extremes to create a dystopia. But what was inconceivable as actual immigration policy in 2012 is, to my horror, not so inconceivable in 2018, and so some of the aspects of the book are now more current event than near-future imagining. GPS trackers implanted in immigrants? Former NJ Governor Chris Christie proposed exactly that during his GOP primary run in 2016. Efforts to strip naturalized citizens of their citizenship, and depriving non-citizens of constitutionally guaranteed rights? Happening. The internment centers disguised as sanitariums in my novel find a parallel in the detention centers for children the government currently insists are just like summer camps. And if the forcible drugging of detained children and adults that has been reported recently isn’t yet the forcible medical procedure that is depicted in my novel, it isn’t far enough from it to ease my concerns.

In addition to Ink, you’re also a short story writer. Last time we spoke, you were thinking about assembling a collection. Is that still in the works? If so, are there any overarching themes you’re working with, or any particular feel you would want readers to take away from the collection as a whole?

I have three wonderful beta readers checking over the collection of short stories — tentatively titled The Unruly Dead — as we speak, and I hope at some point in the not-too-distant future to shop it around. These aren’t all linked stories, nor stories that all take place in one neighborhood (or even one country), but there are themes that reappear time and again in my work: the power of community, the responsibility we have for one another, the need to stand — in ways big and small — against injustice and oppression.

It sounds like a fabulous collection! Speaking of your short fiction, one of my favorite among your stories is “La Gorda and the City of Silver” (conveniently reprinted last year at Mithila Review). If you were going to have your own secret crime-fighting alter ego (luchadora or otherwise), what would that persona be like?

Heh! I wouldn’t be a luchadora — I’m neither flamboyant nor fit enough for the job — but I would want to be someone who could fight and heal at the same time. The video game, Overwatch, appeals to me because it has a number of playable characters that can do both: Zenyatta, Moira, Mercy, and my favorite, Ana — who is 60 years old, has scars and regrets, and is the mother of a fierce and amazing daughter (as I am). Listen, if I could put people who are actively doing damage to sleep for a while (just long enough so they’re no longer a factor), heal up people who have been grievously hurt, or just worn down to hopelessness, and then nanoboost the effects of work the good people I know and respect are doing in the world … I’d be unbelievably happy. It wouldn’t suck to look like Ana, either. ;)

Along with your fiction, you’re also a freelance journalist. How, if at all, does your journalistic writing influence your fiction, and even vice versa?

They are different ways of writing, but both are forms of truth-telling.

My fiction is frequently built on journalism’s bones: Skin in the Game was prompted by spending time at a long-time drug encampment in Philadelphia, in advance of an investigative piece I edited. El Cantar of Rising Sun was inspired by the shooting death of a young Latino attending a peace concert — a story I covered and wrote editorials about. Even my novel, Ink, had as its starting point a news story I read about an undocumented worker who was dumped across a state border by strangers.

At the same time, fiction lends my journalistic work its attention to craft, its ability to evoke, its love of direct quotes that illuminate character.

You’ve mentioned Philly – we both live in the area, and we’re just two among a fairly good concentration of speculative fiction writers here. Do you think there’s anything about the Philadelphia area that makes it particularly fantastical? What are some of your favorite spots in the city, places where you draw inspiration, or that you would recommend to first-time visitors?

Philadelphia is a city that loves its poets (slam champions and laureates alike) and where there is poetry, magic lives. Gritty bodega and Pho under-the-El magic. Indelible broken-tile-and-mirror-wall and little-bronze-zoo-creatures-embedded-in-concrete magic. The magic woven by Coltrane’s notes and Poe’s nightmares and Betsy’s teeny-tiny stitches on a flag.

I have a whole suite of “magical Philadelphia” stories, some which you can read online right now (Skin in the Game and El Cantar of Rising Sun) and others in upcoming publications.

Favorite food place: the Mexican stretch of 9th Street in South Philly (especially the tortilla maker and the fish monger), and the Reading Terminal Market.

Favorite churches: St. Thomas Aquinas and Annunciation in South Philly (the Dec. 12 celebration of the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe is memorable).

Favorite art venues: Taller Puertorriqueño on North 5th in el Barrio, Brandywine Workshop on South Broad, and the Fleisher Art Memorial on Catherine St.

Favorite coffeeshops: Buzz Café in Norris Square and Amalgam Comics on Frankford Ave.

Favorite place to protest: In front of the ICE building on Callowhill… ;)

To wrap things up, now that Ink is back out in the world, what’s next for you?

I’m doing a lot of playing these days. My first Kaiju story, “The Devil in the Details,” will out soon in the anthology Kaiju Rising II (Outland Publications). That was a fun piece to write — taking the Jersey Devil and tweaking it so it wreaks havoc in Center City Philadelphia, in Camden, in Downingtown…

Another Outland Publications anthology, Knaves, will be out in December with my story “The Life and Times of Johnny the Fox,” which I read at Readercon this year. Its protagonist is a character first introduced in my story “Skin in the Game,” and it is part trickster tale, part tall tale, part paean to the resilience of Puerto Ricans in Philadelphia and Puerto Rico after Hurricane María.

I dipped my toe in horror and steampunk-ish narrative in stories slated to come out in 2018 and 2019 (“A Fish Tale” in Sharp and Sugar Tooth by Upper Rubber Boot, and “St. Simon of 9th and Oblivion” in The Latinx Archive), and even tried my hand at a short piece for a new RPG…

All of that sounds amazing, and I can’t wait to read it. Thanks so much for stopping by!

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An Interview with Julie C. Day

Julie C. Day was kind enough to drop by today to talk about her debut collection, Uncommon Miracles. To start things off, I’ll make introductions by shamelessly stealing from Julie’s author bio…

Julie has published over thirty stories in magazines such as Interzone, Black Static, Podcastle, and Split Lip Magazine. Her first collection, Uncommon Miracles, is forthcoming from PS Publishing in October as both a limited edition hardcover and ebook. It’s now available for pre-order. Julie lives in a small town in New England with her family and a menagerie of variously sized animals. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Southern Maine’s Stonecoast program and a M.S. in Microbiology from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. Some of Julie’s favorite things include nighttime glasses of ginger libation, rewatching all except the last season of Trueblood, and baths, oh-so-many baths.

Uncommon Miracles CoverWelcome, and congratulations on the publication of Uncommon Miracles! Care to give readers a hint of the sorts of stories they’ll find in its pages?

Thanks, Ali! I’m incredibly chuffed to see these stories wandering the world together for the first time. It’s turning out to be an incredibly different experience from their publication in magazines. It’s interesting to see how well they fit together. There’s a certain “Julie-ness” to each of them.

In general, I’m drawn to the uncomfortable corners of the psyche, to people’s unarticulated emotional reality and the difficult choices they have to make as a result. My stories are often quite surreal and dark and if I’ve done it right, they also creep along an emotional knife edge. But really I hate describing my work! All I can think about are the exceptions. My publisher put out a lovely description which I’m going to go ahead steal!

“Melding aspects of Southern Gothic and fabulism, and utilizing the author’s own scientific background, Day’s carefully rendered settings are both delightful and unexpected. Whether set in a uniquely altered version of Florida’s Space Coast or a haunted island off the coast of Maine, each story in this collection carries its own brand of meticulous and captivating weirdness.”

It sounds wonderful! What was your process like for putting the collection together? Were you going for a certain theme or tone with the stories you selected, or any overarching thesis?

I actually focused more on how I perceived the quality of the work, rather than on maintaining a certain theme. For me at least, the thematic concerns tend to take care of themselves. I find myself returning to certain themes without any conscious intent. My writing includes the scientific, the magical, and the religious, often in combination. At some level I never lost that childlike sense that our world, our scientifically-defined universe, is infused with magic. Whether it’s the ability of entangled photons to instantaneously interact at great distances or the concept of infinite universes proposed by the many-worlds interpretation, reality is strange and wondrous and not prescribed by our everyday human experiences.

The title Uncommon Miracles actually speaks to a thread that runs through much of my work. My characters are all damaged, trapped in situations, whether personal or apocalyptic, that cause them pain. The choices available to them are never ideal. Success in these stories, the miracle, is a moment of peace in an often ugly universe. Whether it’s children, widowers, or best friends, I‘m drawn to stories of the unseen and unheard person found at an individual’s core. Articulating the internal lives of these characters often involves creating worlds that incorporate some sort of dream logic.

A lot of short story writers get subjected to some version of the sentiment “that’s nice, but when are you going to write something real like a novel?”. Have you ever experienced that? What appeals to you about short fiction as a form?

Ha! These people have clearly never experienced how much effort and time it takes me to get one of my stories even close to what I feel works. My writing is character and emotion based. I tend to spend an inordinate amount of time building worlds that support these characters. Almost without exception, I discover the plot of a story last. I also can’t stand too much predictability in my process or in the final work. This way of working fits most naturally with the short form. That said, there was a point in my life when I had never written a short story and a point in my life when I had never written a paragraph. Stretching outside of your comfort zone is one of the requirements if you’re work is going to remain fresh. I recently finished a rather long novella, 125 pages, that is currently out on submission. “The Rampant” is dark and weird and intense. I’m very proud of it. I have another long project on the back burner, but…a standard three-act-structure novel is never going to be a natural fit for me—or so says the 2018 me.

Shifting things slightly, I wanted to ask about your background. You have degrees in both Creative Writing and Microbiology, and by day you’re an IT Business Analyst. Those all seem like pretty disparate things. What path did you take from one field to another, and how do your various areas of expertise play together and inform each other (assuming they do)?

You’ll find a lot of scientific facts folded into my surreal landscapes. The rabbits in “Everyone Gets a Happy Ending” are informed by the hours I spent researching rabbit breeds, rabbit development, and the behavior and life experiences of rabbits in the wild.
Really, my favorite part of any job is the explosive gathering and assimilation of new information, that moment when nothing makes sense and you haven’t yet figured out what. It. All. Means. It’s what I loved about science, it’s what I love about my job as a business analyst, and it’s one of my favorite aspects of writing—the research that leads to unexpected connections within my own brain.

I learn quickly and I’m excited by ideas that are new and novel, plus I have a strong drive to problem solve, it’s that mindset that has led me to a number of my professional hats. In terms of fiction, over the years I’ve found my approach utilizes some of the skills involved in writing business documents and diagramming processes. It’s not so much that I’m transferring job skills to my creative endeavors. Rather I think that in some way I lean on the same strengths, and honestly, have the same weaknesses. Despite the analytical and organized nature of my work documents, my desk and my brain are spinning with fragments, scrawled notes, post-its, squiggly thought diagrams, and a gut sense of what strands of inquiry I need to follow. My work process is seemingly chaotic—until it’s not and I’ve identified both the what and the why. I find writing fiction works much the same. Linear is not my natural approach to anything!

Building off the non-writing related areas of expertise question, one of my favorite things to ask authors is about strange jobs they’ve had. What’s the most unusual job you’ve ever had, and did it inspire any stories or teach you anything you’ve used in your writing?

Well…I worked at a wax paper factory for part of a summer. I also worked at the Hood Milk factory and I made over-sized paper flowers next to my Ye Olde sales cart as an employee of Six Flags Amusement Park. I also worked as a caseworker for low-income seniors. But I have to say my job as a companion to a ninety-something-year-old man was the oddest. I was tasked with taking him out to stores and restaurants and making him feel part of the world. The money was helpful to me, as I’d left my job in hopes of “focusing on writing,” but we had very little in common and choosing our activities was, for me, deeply uncomfortable. And yes it taught me a very important lesson! I was a dumb dumb. Leaving your day job is luxury, especially early in a writing career. Of course, I had to figure that out the hard way, by trying it. These days I’m lucky enough to be able to work part-time in a professional job. If I were to jump completely, this time I’d have a much better plan!

Those all sound like fascinating life experiences, though! Switching gears again…New England in general strikes me as having a strong sense of place. The image it conjures in my mind is small towns, old families, the sea, and an area ripe for hauntings. As a resident of New England, do you find any of that to be true? What are the local-to-you places you go for inspiration, or that you like to recommend folks visiting the area?

To an extent. For me that version of New England is found on the islands off of the Maine Coast. Vinalhaven, the settling for my story “Signal and Stone,” feels very much that way, and actually that story does include a few ghosts. But I also know I look at Vinalhaven with an outsider’s eyes. While researching the story I learned something of the economic and community tensions that exist. I guess if you look closely enough, no place is any one thing.

My own experience of New England is a bit different. I live in Western Massachusetts in a college town located along the Connecticut River. The brick buildings of Smith College are quintessential New England. We have running clubs and bicycling clubs and micro-brew bicycle tours. Bike paths and woodland trails crisscross the entire region. There are movies in the summer on the lawn of the old library and a multitude of music venues. This summer the Arts Council hosted two Salsa nights in Pulaski Park. Each was a packed with small children, families, and couples who had clearly taken Salsa classes, all enjoying the music and the night—together. At the same time class—and the way that it intersects with race, ethnicity, sexual and gender identity—is at play here as much as anywhere else. We are a myriad, like any place, and we’re definitely not immune to the personal and cultural problems you find elsewhere.

That said, I love my home. Mass MOCA, the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, in North Adams feeds me in a way few museums can. It’s housed in a converted factory space with large installations and a relatively low number of visitors. There was an exhibit entitled Invisible Cities about six years ago inspired by Italo Calvino’s novel of the same name. It included a city that was presented as a soundscape with no visual representation. I stood in the empty space, enthralled, until my family dragged me away. Closer to home one of my personal favorites is the R. Michelson Gallery, which is housed in a converted nineteenth century bank. They have an incredible collection of picture book art, including Dr. Seuss, and a permanent Leonard Nimoy photography installation in what used to be the old bank vault. There is the Smith College Botanical Gardens, which are housed in a towering Victorian greenhouse. There is the Parlor Room which is small music venue by the record label Signature Sounds. It features Indie, Americana, Folk and Roots music. Fort Hill Brewery and Abandoned Building Brewery are both in nearby Easthampton and are both on the bike path. The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art is across the river in Amherst along with Emily Dickinson’s house and the Amherst College Museum of Natural History. And then there are all the hikes and the views of the Valley you find once you go up into the hills… I really could go on and on. I probably already have!

You did a good job – now I want to come visit! To wrap things up, now that Uncommon Miracles is out in the world, what’s next for you? Do you have any projects in the works you want folks to know about?

As well as my novella “The Rampant” currently out on submission, I’ve been contracted to write a tabletop RPG game for Evil Hat’s Fate World series. I’ve also been able to focus on new short stories. I have many partials, always, but I finally finished two new stories in the last couple of weeks. It was lovely. I also have significant pieces of a mosaic novel called Ash that I want to move forward. Writing the novella has given me some confidence and—fingers crossed—some new skills around the longer form, or my version of it anyway!

Thanks so much for stopping by!

Thank you for inviting me! I’ve really enjoyed it.

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An Interview with Michael R. Underwood

Mike Underwood was kind enough to drop by today to talk about Born to the Blade, a new fantasy series from Serial Box Publishing, written in collaboration with Marie Brennan, Malka Older, and Cassandra Khaw. The first episode was released on April 18, 2018, with more to come soon. To get things started, I’ll introduce Mike by shamelessly stealing from his author bio…

Michael R. Underwood is an author, podcaster, and publishing professional. His series include the Ree Reyes Geekomancy books, the Stabby Award-finalist Genrenauts series, and Born to the Blade. He’s been a bookseller, sales representative, and the North American Sales & Marketing Manager for Angry Robot Books. He is also a co-host on the Hugo Award Finalist The Skiffy and Fanty Show and Speculate! The Podcast for Writers, Readers, and Fans. Mike lives in Baltimore with his wife, their dog, and an ever-growing library. He also loves geeking out with games and making pizzas from scratch.

Welcome and congratulations on the release of episode one of Born to the Blade! Without giving too much away, would you care to give folks a taste of what the series is about?

Born to the BladeBorn to the Blade is an epic fantasy series following three prominent bladecrafters in and around the Warder’s Circle – a diplomatic organization based in a free city built on a three-tiered flying city. Bladecraft works by drawing edged metal through the air in specific patterns called sigils. The warders wheel and deal and settle disputes between nations in ritual magical combat. Readers can expect diplomacy and subterfuge, magic and swordplay, and characters torn between their personal loyalties and duty to their home nations.

On your blog, you describe working on the series with Marie Brennan, Malka Older, and Cassandra Khaw, as a TV-writers-room-esque situation. Could you tell us a bit more about the collaborative process? Do you literally (or virtually) sit in a room together and hash out scenes, arcs, and plot points? Do you lob drafts back and forth between team members, or is it a divide-and-conquer kind of thing? Has working as part of a team had any impact on your solo writing process?

The Serial Box process is really cool, and unlike anything I’d done before as a writer. Last summer all four of us had a weekend-long in-person writers’ summit with Julian Yap (the co-founder of Serial Box). Everyone came to the summit having read the 30+ page world document I’d created, and we launched from there into conversations about what we wanted to do with the series, the characters, etc. We worked and re-worked the material, then laid out the season from there.

We kept developing the world even after the summit, as it turns out that there’s a lot of worldbuilding to do when you have people from over a half-dozen nations thrown together and coming into connection and conflict! A big surprise to other writers, I’m sure.
Each episode (we had eleven in season one) was assigned to one writer, but every member of the team provided feedback on each episode, so that each each represented our shared ideas and consensus on characterization, plotting, etc.

Working with Malka, Cassandra, and Marie has helped me gain a stronger understanding of different approaches to storytelling – it’s been much easier to see the contrast clearly when we’re all working with the same characters and world. I haven’t written a lot of my own fiction since we wrapped up the edits on season one, but the biggest craft lesson I feel like I’ve learned so far is how to more clearly delineate a character arc across numerous story beats. I’m looking forward to writing a new project where the character’s agenda drives the story in a very powerful way (for this type of character-driven storytelling, think Javier Grillo-Marxuach’s idea of Operational Theme and series like Breaking Bad).

Born to the Blade isn’t your first foray into episodic fiction. Genrenauts also has a TV series feel, with each episode seeing your characters visiting a different genre world and solving a problem there. What draws you to the episodic format? Speaking of Genrenauts, are there any particular genres and tropes you’re itching to play with that you haven’t explored yet?

As a life-long fan of comics and TV, a pretty large portion of the works that inspire me were told in episodic format – Babylon 5, Leverage, X-Men, Planetary, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, etc. The other major factor is that episodic fiction is easier to keep in readers’ minds – if you write a novel a year, you have one new release every 365 days. Born to the Blade has eleven release days per season. Genrenauts has five or six. This is also advantageous because the Amazon algorithms are more likely to be favorable if you have a very recent release, so an episodic project keeps your works in the good graces of the Black Box of Amazon for more of the year.

For Genrenauts, I’m very eager to try to see what I can say to add to the conversation in the Horror genre, and I’m excited to play around with the tropes of urban fantasy, utopian science fiction, historical romance, and, with some more research and expert consultation, non-Western narrative genres like wuxia.

Until recently, you were the Sales & Marketing Manager for Angry Robot Books. How, if at all, did your roles on both sides of the publishing equation inform each other? Is there a particular piece of advice, wisdom, information about what goes on behind the scenes in turning an author’s vision into the reality of a book that you want authors to know about?

Those two jobs were constantly feeding off one another. I’ve been able to bring a much stronger sense of the marketplace and how to position a work, which I’ve used in writing stronger pitches, applying strategies developed for AR in my own work, writing my own sales copy, etc.). And because I’d been around the author block a couple of times, I had a better sense of what authors need to know and are often worried or curious about that I could address with them.

The biggest lesson I’d share with authors is that while your book may be unique, you need to know how to compare it to other novels/books/etc. If you’re publishing in USA, CAN, and the UK, it needs to be classified into BISAC or BIC genre categories. You need to be able to tell sales teams and buyers what existing books it might sell like. You need to be able to use comparisons by tone, character, genre, or other content to help readers get a sense of what to expect from your work. An agent will help you sell the novel to a publisher, but you will keep on having to sell it yourself, to readers at conventions, festivals, and on a plane when someone asks what you do and you actually want to talk about your work. Reading widely in your field and learning how publishers and authors talk about their books will help you get better at doing this for your own stuff.

I’ve found that it’s smart to develop several different pitches for each work:

1) Comparison titles – “Born to the Blade is like Avatar the Last Airbender meets The West Wing, with magic swordfights).” This is sometimes also called “The Hollywood Pitch”

2) Tone and genre – “Born to the Blade is an optimistic epic fantasy that focuses on relationships, politics, and magic sword fights.”

You can also talk about the plot hook for the series or what makes the main character(s) compelling. Readers look for different things from their fiction, so each will respond to different pitch styles. And you can always keep adjusting your hand-selling pitches, learning as you go. Almost six years after my debut, I still find myself in a position to pitch my debut novel, so the work never ends.

As part of the Skiffy and Fanty and Speculate! podcast teams, you interview authors, review work, talk about the craft of writing, and generally get to geek out with your fellow podcasters about cool, nerdy things. What works, authors, or speculative fiction properties, are you particularly excited about at the moment? If you could signal boost one or two “hidden gems” more people should be reading/watching/talking about who or what would they be?

I’m really enjoying a video game called Slay the Spire, which is a run-based roguelike card game. Each run, you pick your class and build your deck from a small base deck as you climb a tower of enemies, have strange encounters, and loot. For folks somewhat in the gaming world, think Dominion but a dungeon crawl. Since Slay the Spire is run-based/roguelike, it’s incredibly re-playable, and lets you get some of the fun of collectible card games for a fraction of the cost. The game is in early access on Steam right now, so it’s constantly being updated and improved. The third character was just added on a test server, and I’ve been having a ton of fun trying to figure them out.

The other thing I’d shout-out is the GLAAD and Eisner-nominated comic series Kim & Kim by my friend Magdalene Visaggio (writer) with Eva Cabrera (line art), Claudia Aguirre (color art), and Zak Saam (letter art). It’s an irreverent technicolor science fantasy about bounty hunter besties who are constant screw-ups. It has incredibly strong character voices, inviting and kinetic art, and features a variety of LGBTQ characters. There are two volumes available right now (The Glamorous High-Flying Rockstar Life and Love is a Battlefield) and there’s an ongoing series coming soon, called Oh S#!t, it’s Kim & Kim.

Switching gears a bit, there are a fair number of speculative fiction writers living in and around the Baltimore area. What do you see as some of the more fantastical, or science fictional elements of the city that make it a draw for writers? In general, what are your favorite spots in the city, or places you recommend to people visiting Baltimore for the first time?

Baltimore has a lot of cool history to draw on – the neighborhood of Fell’s Point was home to privateers, it was the home of a major battle of the War of 1812 (aka the battle where “The Star-Spangled Banner” was composed). A lot of people know The Wire, but there’s way more to Baltimore than that. All of those give writers powerful touchstones to build on, re-interpret, or to challenge with speculative fiction.

But enough about cool history – Baltimore is also a city with sharp income inequality, systemic racism and classism, a history of police abuses, etc. – all of which can directly inspire cyberpunk storytelling and/or any type of social science fiction.

For first-time visitors to Baltimore, I highly recommend the National Aquarium, the American Visionary Art Museum, or just a walk around Fell’s Point.

Now that Born to the Blade is making its way out into the world, what’s next for you? Is there anything else you have upcoming or that you’re working on that you’d like people to know about?

I’m finishing up revisions on a space opera novel that my agent will be sending around to publishers. I’ve been working on this one off-and-on for a couple of years, and I’m very excited to see how people respond to it. After that, I’m going to be breaking ground on Genrenauts season two and working on some comics projects to pitch.

That all sounds awesome! Thanks for dropping by!

Thanks so much for having me on for a chat!

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An Interview with Miriam Seidel

Miriam Seidel was kind enough to drop by today to talk about her wonderful novel, The Speed of Clouds. To get things started, I’ll make introductions by way of shamelessly stealing from her author bio…

Miriam Seidel is a writer, curator, librettist, and longtime sci-fi fan. Her novel, The Speed of Clouds, will be published by New Door Books in April 2018. She wrote the libretto for an opera about the visionary inventor Nikola Tesla, performed in Belgrade, New York, and Philadelphia, and a sci-fi radio play for New American Radio. She’s written about visual arts and performance for Art in America, the Philadelphia Inquirer, and other publications, and her writing has won fellowships from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts.

The Speed of CloudsWelcome and congratulations on the publication of your first novel! Without giving too much away, would you care to give folks a taste of The Speed of Clouds is about?

Well, the main character, Mindy, is a fangirl for SkyLog, a major sci-fi franchise, who edits her own fanzine. It’s 1999, so fan fiction is already big, but just starting to migrate from printed zines to online. Mindy is disabled—she has spina bifida and uses a wheelchair. But when she loses the leadership of her club, she’s forced to explore different parts of the SkyLog fan universe, which ends up bringing her to a stronger, more open version of herself. Meanwhile, other, more sweeping versions of events come in through fan fiction stories and the obsessions of some of the characters. I wanted to get at that heady, disorienting feeling in the contrast of those two kinds of experience—our regular, more circumscribed lives, and the bigger things we imagine.

There are so many wonderful things about this novel, the characters, their relationships, and the shared passion over nerdy pursuits, whether it’s music, collectibles, science fiction or computer programming. Did one of these elements in particular form the seed of the novel that the rest was built around, or did it all come together at once? Or, to put it another way, what was the spark that drove you to write The Speed of Clouds?

The spark was definitely my experience of going to Cons. I had been reading and watching sci-fi and fantasy since I was a kid, but never as part of a group—I was kind of a loner, and there wasn’t as much going on then. But later I heard about the Star Trek Cons, and my antennae started buzzing. I told myself it would be a fun thing for our son, who was in elementary school and watched the shows with us. But looking back, I kind of used him as my excuse to check it out. I loved the whole thing—the overheated atmosphere, the tension between the cheesiness and all this pure passion, the fans themselves, and especially how they got dressed up! It felt like a kind of ritual of communion with this large-scale fictional world.

At a certain point, Mindy came to me as a character, full-blown. And then the other things gathered around her like a centrifuge. I felt that she was strong enough to be at the center of these other elements, a lot of which I’m into myself: contemporary art, electronic music, Buckminster Fuller. BTW, I do have a theremin (which makes a cameo in the story), and I’ve played it, although it’s really hard to master.

Obviously the culture of fandom is deeply important to the novel, which touches on cosplay, conventions, zines, fan fiction and more. What is your own personal experience with fandom, and what is your particular fan passion?

My personal experience has been through Cons and clubs. Right now I’m a member of the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society, which has many really smart, serious fans and stimulating discussions. And I love Galactic Philadelphia, a new SFF reading series.

I want to hone in on the fan fiction aspect of the novel for a moment. You use it effectively in The Speed of Clouds to echo the characters’ real life experiences, but you also touch on the importance of fan fiction in expanding a property’s world. For example, fan fiction creates the space to explore consequences which can often get lost in episodic television, and it can improve representation by including queer pairings through slash fiction, whereas a mainstream TV series might be afraid to go in that direction. Are you a writer and/or reader of fan fiction yourself? If so, have you ever come across a story line in fan fiction that you’d want to see brought to life in the main property itself? If not, what would be your choice of media property to write fan fiction for if you were going to delve into that world?

I am so fascinated and heartened by this aspect of fan fiction. In one way, I see fan fiction taking story-making full circle, from telling stories around the fire, to folktales, to written literature, film, and now electronic mass media, and fan fiction then re-appropriates the mass media to create this proliferating, grass-roots art form that you could see as a new kind of folk art.

And then in this new, unregulated space, things like slash fiction could emerge that rewrote the possibilities of gender and sexuality, adding them into that narrative of the future. That was pretty radical when it started in the 1970s. And it’s interesting that slash began mainly with women writers. I really wanted to fold in the Mary Sue phenomenon, which also rose out of early fan fiction by women, but then turned into a weapon used by fanboys against women writers. Women in fan fiction feels somehow related to the growing numbers of great women’s voices in SSF writing now. I know it’s not a direct line, and that the wave of new women writers may be more of a concurrent phenomenon, but women writing fan fiction could have been a contributing factor. It was liberating, and it still can be.

As far as writing fan fiction myself, I’ve read it but haven’t written any. When I was a kid and read something that really struck me, I always wanted to draw the characters, so I guess you could call that fan art. I did that with Lord of the Rings, and this was long before the movies came out and stamped those versions of the characters into our retinas. It could be fun to rewrite parts of LOTR with women characters—either new ones, or expanding on the few who are in there. And this may be a reach, but you could say my novel is my way of writing fan fiction.

Switching gears a bit, I’d like to ask about some of your other artistic work, specifically the libretto you wrote for the opera about Nikola Tesla. How did that come about? What was it like seeing something you’d written performed live?

Like some of my characters, I have a tendency to get obsessed with certain subjects, and I became completely obsessed by Tesla after reading his biography (the one by Margaret Cheney, which I recommend). I was working as a visual artist at the time, but I had seen some contemporary opera, and it just seemed clear to me that Tesla’s story had to be told as an opera—that it was too big and strange to be anything else. Here was a figure whose inventions had shaped our world, yet who was subject to visions throughout his life. I was very lucky to connect with the composer Jon Gibson, and he set my libretto to a wonderful score. I did see it performed in Philadelphia, and then in Belgrade and New York on Tesla’s 150th birthday. Hearing the words I had written coming to life in Jon’s music was profoundly thrilling. I felt that in the first rehearsal, and at every performance.

Switching gears again, there are a fair number of speculative fiction writers living in and around the Philadelphia area. What do you see as some of the more fantastical, or science fictional elements of the city that make it a draw for writers? In general, what are your favorite places to visit in the city, or places you recommend to people who are coming to Philadelphia for the first time?

What a great question! I’m not sure why Philadelphia has been a congenial place for speculative fiction writers, but it may have to do with the fact that it’s always been a strong city for science and scientists. I do think Ben Franklin is an icon in this way, with his interest in electricity and mathematics—did you know he was into magic squares? And there’s the Franklin Institute, which hosted a lecture by Tesla in 1893, and they have a working Tesla coil in their electricity exhibit. And the ENIAC was developed here at Penn—I only recently learned that women played an important role there, as they did at NASA.

My personal favorite science/sci-fi icon is the Bicentennial Moon Tree, which was planted from a seedling that orbited in space, in Washington Square. It looked pretty sickly though, and I wondered if the trip had been traumatic for it. Then it died, but they’ve now replanted a clone from the original, which is also kind of science-fictiony.

Now that The Speed of Clouds is out in the world, what’s next for you? Is there anything else you have upcoming or that you’re working on that you’d like people to know about.

The next novel I want to write will be straight sci-fi/fantasy. Right now it’s in the notes-and-outlining phase.

Thanks for dropping by!

Thank you so much! I’m such a fan of your writing, and I appreciate what you do for the SFF community!

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An Interview with Brooke Bolander

Brooke Bolander was kind enough to drop by today to talk about her debut novella, The Only Harmless Great Thing. To get started, I’ll make introductions by way of shamelessly stealing from Brooke’s author bio…

Brooke Bolander writes weird things of indeterminate genre, most of them leaning rather heavily towards fantasy or general all-around weirdness. She attended the University of Leicester 2004-2007 studying History and Archaeology and is an alum of the 2011 Clarion Writers’ Workshop at UCSD. Her stories have been featured in Lightspeed, Strange Horizons, Nightmare, Uncanny, Tor.com, and various other fine purveyors of the fantastic. She has been a finalist for the Nebula, Hugo, Locus, Theodore Sturgeon, and World Fantasy awards, much to her unending bafflement. She can be reached at her website (brookebolander.com) or on Twitter @BBolander

Welcome and congratulations on the publication of The Only Harmless Great Thing! Without
giving too much away, care to give readers a taste of what it’s about?

The Only Harmless Great ThingThe Only Harmless Great Thing is my weirdo prose-poem alternate history novella tribute to two really terrible, mostly forgotten bits of ephemeral American history: The 1903 public execution by electricity of Topsy, an abused circus elephant, and the deaths of the radium girls, factory workers employed in New Jersey and Illinois to paint watch dials with radium-laced dye. Nobody bothered telling them that the paint was toxic, and none of the girls suspected a thing until, one by one, they began to sicken and die of radiation poisoning. In the universe of the book, things work out a little differently for all involved. Bonds are struck and terrible choices are made—choices that will also have massive ramifications in an alternate present and a far-flung future. It’s a book about anger, and injustice, and women, and friendship. It’s about stories–how they shape narratives and who gets to shape those narratives. It’s about coming together, solidarity in anger and in the fight.

Also: Wooly mammoth folk tales. I can never forget to mention the wooly mammoth folk tales. If you’ve been dying to read a wooly mammoth folk tale, boy have I got the book for you.

Since the book is rooted in events that actually occurred in the early 20th century, what kind of research did you do to inform your writing? What drew you in particular to that time period, or to the story of the radium girls and Edison’s experiments with electricity?

I’m a history student slash historical buff, so a lot of this was already rattling around in my head, looking for a way out.

The late 19th/early 20th century is such an odd period; industrialization rattling on at an ever-increasing clip, making the lives of many better while crushing the poor and the marginalized to feed the altars of Our Sainted Lady Progress. So many things we’ve come to rely on in modern life were invented then. So many of our problems now come from callous decisions made around that era, broken, unsustainable, exploitative systems cemented in on which our own personal Omelas teeters and sways. Want to understand why things in the States are splintering the way they are now? Trace the cracks and fissures back to the period after the Civil War and go from there. You can do that all the way back to the beginning–the systems this country built itself on were always, always rotted through–but recently I was watching a documentary on New York at the turn of the last century and it was remarkable how much you could pinpoint at that nexus leading to where we are currently. The same systems that gave us the freedom of the automobile belched pollution into the air, necessitated the creation of the assembly line, and tore highways through urban neighborhoods with a callous disregard that’s breathtaking. There’s very little we have now that didn’t come with a price. The rich and the powerful wrote the tunes we’d be dancing to on down the decades.

So I think about that a lot, especially recently for, y’know, reasons. The exploitation of the radium girls was just one case in a long, long line of horrible incidents around that time: The matchgirls who came down with fossy jaw in London, the Triangle Shirtwaist fire in New York, and the radium girls of New Jersey and Illinois. The first two were such public outrages they sparked protest and change; the London Matchgirls Strike of 1888 was a reaction to the growing number of fossy jaw deaths, and the Triangle Shirtwaist fire in 1911 (the doors to the factory floors were locked from the outside to prevent union organizers from reaching workers; a fire broke out and 146 women, mostly young immigrant girls, burned to death) led to slightly improved factory safety standards and the organization of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union. But until recently, the radium girls had been mostly forgotten. Their deaths sparked no grand revolt or reform. The lawsuits against their employers were stalled and put off long enough that most of the girls were dead before it was all settled. The best they could hope for was a payout for their families and the shutting down of the factories so that no more women would come to such an end. Nobody taught their story in schools; the only monument that stands to mark their passage was erected in Ottawa, Illinois after a schoolgirl learned what had happened and, horrified at her community’s silence over the matter, fought and pressured for a statue.

The past deserves telling. Even the nasty parts. Especially the nasty parts. If the stories aren’t told, they die, which is also a big theme in the book.

And Thomas Edison, as usual, has been credited with yet another accomplishment not his own, having precious little to do with Topsy’s death. She, like many a ‘performing’ elephant before and since, was so ill-treated she finally snapped and killed a man, at which point the Forepaugh Circus sold her to Frederic Thompson and Elmer Dundy, owners of Coney Island’s Luna Park. Her handler there was an alcoholic. There were more incidents, some involving the police, none of them really her fault. Eventually Thompson and Dundy decided to get rid of her, and what better way to both take care of the problem and promote their soon-to-be-opened park than with a public execution?

The confusion arises from Edison’s penchant for frying animals during the War of the Currents and the fact that the film crew sent to record the event were from Edison Studios. Edison was a terrible guy who deserves everything bad smeared across his name, but the Current War had ended fifteen years earlier, and Edison Studios took no direction from the man himself on who or what they filmed. As far as anybody can tell, he never even knew Topsy existed. She, like the radium girls, was simply another victim of a brutal, uncaring system. Her death served no purpose, for good or ill.

Your short fiction has been multiply award nominated at this point. Do you remember the first nomination, how you found out about it, and what you did to celebrate?

That would have been the Nebula nomination for And You Shall Know Her By The Trail of Dead in early 2016. SFWA calls you for that one, on the phone; I believe I was standing in my kitchen in Brooklyn when they rang, and for once I actually picked up. I’m pretty sure I said “thank you” a whole lot, got off the call, and went to go stare at a wall in a daze for the next half-hour. I was coming off a pretty rough winter, a bad time, and it just made everything extra surreal. I felt a little like Neil Patrick Harris in the final shot of Doctor Horrible.

But thankfully everything seemed to pick up from there, at least personally. Hearing that I’ve been nominated for something has never gotten any less weird, though. “You mean people LIKED that? … That much? Good lord, really?”

Completely switching gears for a moment… At the time this interview is being written, the background image of your twitter account is a scene from Who Framed Roger Rabbit. How great is that movie? It’s sort of a perfect storm of things that shouldn’t work together, but they do, and can never be replicated. (I may be a touch obsessed.) What is you favorite thing about the movie? Favorite character? Seriously, how freakin’ great is it?!

Bless you a thousand years for asking about Who Framed Roger Rabbit, one of my favourite movies if not my absolute favourite. It is great in so many ways I don’t even have space to go into them all here. It’s absolutely ridiculous that it’s so damned good, but I’ve been watching it since I was 7, and it just keeps getting better the older I get and the more I learn and learn to see. It’s a movie that never should have gotten made, a logistical nightmare both in the level of special effects needed and the constant wrangling to keep both Disney and Warner Bros and every other company with a character in the damned thing happy. And who the hell pitches a comedy/all-ages noir based on the same concept as an unmade Chinatown sequel with a Robert Moses figure as the villain, razing a marginalized community to the ground to build his precious freeway?

(True story, folks; it had the working title Cloverleaf and was going to go into the sordid land grabs that made the Los Angeles highway system possible. Considering how The Two Jakes came out, this was probably the best case scenario.)

My favourite thing about it is how deft and tight the storytelling is. It’s a movie that never bothers infodumping about this bizarre world it takes place within when a shot of a photograph on someone’s desk or a single line of dialogue will do. We learn about Eddie Valiant almost entirely from his interactions with others. From Dolores and Lt. Santino we get that he used to be a great guy and an A+ detective, but unresolved grief over his brother’s death has turned him into a reactive, alcoholic mess taking muckraking jobs just to pay rent. From a really beautiful, wordless montage panning over their desk, we learn that Eddie and Teddy started out with the LAPD before hanging up the shingle on their own with Dolores to become respected PIs. The camera deliberately scrolls backwards chronologically through Valiant’s past until it ends on a shot of Eddie, Teddy, and their dad together in the circus–a single frame explaining why Eddie and Teddy were so open to taking Toon cases in the first place, how bitter and damaged the loss of Teddy has left his now-humourless brother, and, finally, how Eddie knows all those cool clown moves he makes use of in the finale. How the hell do you tell that much in ONE FRAME?! Cinema has its own language, and that entire scene rings like ‘cellar door’ to me.

And of course, none of this would work without Bob Hoskins acting his entire ass off, taking everything almost as seriously as his role in The Long Good Friday (Eddie, as you may have already guessed, as my favourite character). The scene where he has to confront his unaddressed PTSD over Teddy’s death and go back through the tunnel to Toontown–again, almost wordlessly; this is a movie that knows when to keep quiet–lives or dies on Hoskins’ ability to emote, and boy does he bring it. The acting on display would be phenomenal in any film; here it’s absolutely jaw-dropping. Watch: He’s nakedly terrified. He breaks out in a sweat, probably remembering in vivid detail his last visit there. He goes to take a drink of bourbon for courage, but stops with the bottle halfway to his lips. Slowly, like a light has just gone on, he lowers it, considering the label like he’s never really seen a bottle of Wild Turkey before until this moment. No, you see him decide, finally, I’m goin’ in there clean. He pours the contents into the gutter. He’s still terrified, but something has changed. And it’s not even sudden, this epiphany! The entire movie has been building to it. Once he takes Roger under his wing, he never takes another drink. He’s tempted, but the bottle always stops halfway.

… Also it’s still a really fucking funny movie. And I have gone on way too long here about Who Framed Roger Rabbit, sorry. You did ask!

There’s no such thing as going on too long when talking about Roger Rabbit! However, topic hopping again, you studied History and Archeology at University. Has any of that background made it into your writing thus far, or do you think it might in the future?

I think it informs everything I do or write in some fashion or another. Being a student of history means you have that much more of an informational back catalogue to dig into when you need a subject to write about. So many interviewers have asked me how I learned about these things, and it’s very strange because an awful lot of the time they’re already sitting around in vials in my head, waiting for a moment to react with something. “BREAK GLASS TO RECEIVE STORY.” History is nothing but stories interlinked, after all.

Now that The Only Harmless Great Thing is out in the world, what’s next for you? Any projects you’re working on you want folks to know about?

I’m currently working on a fantasy novel. I have always been working on this novel. Presumably I will be working on this novel until we go all the way back ’round the horn and start relaying stories solely as an oral tradition again, at which point the entire damn endeavour will be moot. Story of my life.

Besides that, though, I have an upcoming novelette at Tor.com about (what else) extinct animals and the end of the world. I swear up and down that my next piece will be about kittens on fluffy duvets and nobody will die or be angry, ever. Honest.

Thanks for stopping by!

Thanks for having me! And for asking about Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Because Who Framed Roger Rabbit, y’all. Forget about my book: Go re-watch it. Seriously.

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An Interview with D Franklin

D Franklin was kind enough to drop by today to discuss their new venture, Galli Books. I’ll start things off with an introduction by way of shamelessly stealing from their bio…

D is a genderqueer Glasgow-based bookseller. They are a recovering Ancient Historian, a comics nerd, a science fiction and fantasy devourer, and they are founder of Galli Books.

Galli Books Welcome and congratulations on the launch of Galli Books! For those not in the know, what is Galli Books? What sort of titles can people expect from Galli? What inspired you to found Galli?

Galli Books is a small publisher of speculative fiction anthologies with social themes and intersectional social justice intent. Our first couple of planned titles give a good idea of what to expect in future, too; a book about alternative masculinities, and a book of stories of scientists who aren’t (gasp) men!

I was inspired to found Galli when another call for submissions from another publisher went out that basically called for stories that it claimed represented suppressed ideas, when, in reality, they’re the dominant ideas in our genre and across society. A few people on Twitter joked about a response anthology and I… maybe took the joke too far?

You recently put out your first call for submissions (including a call for artists’ portfolios). For hopeful authors out there, what type of work is likely to catch your eye? Conversely, what do you not want to see in your submission pile?

I’m not editing it alone, I’ve got some excellent consultants in to co-edit the volume with me! Shout out to Jay Wolf, Ronan Sadler, and Brandon O’Brien! Work that will catch our eye will be socially progressive, will rewrite the standard toxic and fragile models of masculinity that dominate in our society, will have diverse casts, and will engage with a range of responses to masculinity. What we don’t want to see is a whole lot of Conan clones, because that’s what we’re reacting to, nor straightforward parody of that… unless it’s really spectacularly done parody, of course!

On a somewhat related note, since you’re also a reviewer, what are some of your recent favorite reads? Or your all-time favorite reads? What titles would you point people toward in order to get a sense of your tastes, or just in general because you love them and want people to read them?

Recently, I loved Jeannette Ng’s Under the Pendulum Sun: theology and fairytale run up against each other in a claustrophobic Victorian gothic melodrama. More broadly, everyone should read the Imperial Raadch trilogy by Ann Leckie, Becky Chambers’ heartwarming and intelligent Wayfarer series, and quite literally every novel N. K. Jemisin has ever written. Your own Ultra Fabulous Glitter Squadron Saves The World Again has a special place in my heart for combining so many different registers so brilliantly, and for what it does with masculinity (TOPICAL); I’m still not over ‘Roller Girls Have More Fun’.: blushing over here.) (Interviewer’s note And, of course, there’s Terry Pratchett, miss him as we all do…

In addition to being a reviewer and a publisher, you’re also a bookseller. Do you have any “tales from the trenches” that you’re able to share, either in terms of odd questions you’ve received, or inspiring stories of helping someone find the perfect book?

Oh, the tales I could tell… if it wouldn’t be unprofessional. Let’s just say that sometimes, “It’s the recent one with the silver cover” is surprisingly more than enough information to go on; that books that haven’t been in print for half a century AREN’T going to be available in a first-hand book shop; and that no, you can’t have a copy of the book that’s not out for another week, because we don’t have it in – it’s not out for another week.

To topic switch a bit, you’re based in Glasgow – what’s the speculative fiction scene like there? More generally, what are some of your favorite places to visit in the city, or places you would recommend to someone coming to Glasgow for the first time?

Glasgow has a seriously thriving speculative fiction scene; internationally it is perhaps eclipsed a little by some of Edinburgh’s writers like Laura Lam, Ken MacLeod, and Elizabeth May, but we’ve got some great folks of our own. The irrepressible and brilliant Hal Duncan is possibly our most notorious current speculative author, but Neil Williamson, Ruth Booth, and Cameron Johnston, whose debut is coming later this year, are all also locals; the Glasgow Science Fiction Writers’ Circle does a great job of encouraging and helping new writers, and it’s produced some real crackers!

Any visitor to Glasgow needs to visit one place, and it’s a café. Or a gin bar. Really, it’s both. Cup in the daytime is a lovely café with cakes, food, and a whole menu of different kinds of tea. At about 5 o’clock, it turns into Gin71. The name originally referred to its street address; now, it refers also to the number of gins they have. We’re also home to a whole lot of museums and art galleries, plus there’s always the Charles Rennie Mackintosh architecture to admire!

Aside from Galli Books, do you have any other upcoming projects you’d like people to know about, or any other closing thoughts in general you’d like to share?

“Aside from founding a publishing house and putting out a public call for stories to your anthology while working as a bookseller”, you mean? HAH, oh for that kind of energy! Though watch this space for future calls for submissions!

I can’t wait to see what the future holds for Galli Books. Thanks for dropping by!

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