Awards season is upon us with the opening of the nomination period for the Nebula Awards. I’m still working on my Recommended Reading/Favorites of the Year post, but in the meantime, here’s what all I had published in 2017.
Excerpts from a Film (1942-1987) published at Tor.com.
There are other dead girls, too, fitting themselves into the spaces between actors. As George fits the film back into the projector and runs it again, the ghosts are so obvious he can’t believe he missed them, spreading outward from the point that is Mary Evelyn Marshall. Like mushrooms, fruiting after a hard rain. Their skin soft, born on the edge of rot, and so easy to bruise. Once he’s seen them, he can’t un-see them, until the rest of the film blurs and they’re all he can see.
Last night’s opening of The Secret of Flight at The Victory Theater will surely go down as one of the most memorable and most bizarre in history. Not for the play itself, but for the dramatic disappearance of leading lady Clara Hill during the play’s final scene.
There was a monster outside, and any minute, it would break the door down and come inside.
Captain Adams hand-picked us, brought us to the top of the world – a blue place all ice and snow and screaming wind – with only the vaguest idea of our mission. And none of us had cared.
Through the salt sting, the world blurs blue and grey. She lets a few bubbles escape to rise around her like pearls. Just as she’s about to turn her head to breathe, a face appears below her.
He hovers just beyond the glass even though the window looks out from the second floor. Of course, she thinks. And no, no, please no. His shadow stretches long across the bedroom floor. He taps and the windows swing open. Once invited, always welcome–that’s his way.
In just over a week, the generation ship Arber will depart on its journey. The docking clamps will release, and it will go sailing off into space to find the future of humanity. This is my parting gift, a catalogue of sunlight from the world left behind.
Growing up in Dieu-le-Sauveur, my friends and I told stories about ghosts – the Starving Man, the Sleeping Girl, and the House at the End of the Street. The summer I was twelve, I saw my first ghost for real. That was the summer my little brother Gen disappeared.
So that’s what I did this year. After I catch up on my reading a bit more, I’ll put up a post about my favorite reads from 2017.