Because You Can Never Have Too Many Punks

Every now and then, scooting around the internet looking for writing markets, one bumps into a project that immediately appeals to something deep within one's psyche. Most themed anthologies are slow burners that sit in the back of my head until a eureka moment hits, or I already have a half-done story that seems to fit the bill so I get back to work on it, but occasionally one makes me sit up and want to get started on it from scratch right away. Like now! 

This submission call for original fiction for The Mammoth Book of Dieselpunk is just such a one.

As it proclaims: If you need to know what dieselpunk is, it's a subcategory of steampunk, essentially, covering the 1920s through to the 1950s, including the Roaring Twenties, the Depression, World War II, and even a little beyond that.

I like this site for its classy pictures and atmosphere. I really need to give this project a go, I think, if only for the sheer fun of it.

 I see trench coats and smart little hats, a wintry night, dark Northern climes, mountains, trains... I do love trains. Maybe an explosion or two. Or not. A Depression Era tale maybe? And both World Wars always make interesting settings for weirdness set amidst global chaos. Not sure yet, but my brain is on it.

Go brain.

And after that?  Check out all the punks here.

Elfpunk maybe?

Hmmmm.  

Should You Choose To Accept It

A huge congratulations to Steve Cameron, who has just made his first professional sale to Mike Resnik's magazine Galaxy's Edge. Yaaaaaaay!

Writing is not the easiest of career paths to walk, and anyone, aside from the occasional genius, who undertakes the scribe's long journey (and remember, no-one forces you to take that particular road in the yellow wood) should be prepared for lots of rejection and disappointment, so it's great to see that all Steve's hard work and persistence has paid off, and that he's well on his way to a SFWA membership.

Also - and this is the bit that's all about me - it's wonderful to actually know someone you met when they were starting out their mission to become a writer, someone who has stuck to their guns and steadily worked their way upwards to professional success, because it makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, I can do it too. It's not a certainty, and possibly it may never happen, but knowing a real, live, flesh and blood person who has achieved a goal you're also aiming for certainly makes it less pie-in-the-sky and more feasible. Do the work, do it well, weather the storms, keep your eyes on the prize, enjoy the process and things will happen, is the message one absorbs. Steve's success certainly inspired me today; I hit my desk and tackled a particularly stubborn story I have to write, and resubbed a piece everyone seems to likes but no-one buys. I suppose that's why positive mentors and role models and supportive peers are so important in all areas of life.

So once again, congratulations, Steve. This is, I'm sure, just the first of many pro sales.

Third Time Lucky

Roll up, roll up, for the greatest sale on Earth :) :) :)

I've been tightly crossing my fingers for weeks for this one, and all the joint pain has paid off. I'm so happy to announce that I've sold my story Winds of Change to Lakeside Circus,  editor, publisher and writer Carrie Cuin's new online, speculative fiction magazine which will be published quarterly by Dagan Books, LLC.

I just had a feeling I might have a chance with them. They like odd stories, you see. And weird stuff. Many don't. I submitted a story to their anthology Bibliotheca Fantastica, didn't get in, but received good feedback, so when I read about LC's call for submissions, I hastily sent off one of my harder-to-place darlings. LC held it for consideration, but ultimately rejected it. Send more, they wrote. Fortunately, I had a back-up ready to go straight away, so off went Winds of Change (a.k.a. my "Berlin Wall" story. It's not a light piece, this one, but a dark, political ghost story featuring many bodies and bones.) 

Again, held for consideration. Again I waited. But this time - triumph!

Aaah, I'm so excited, I think I'll go for a walk. I need to skip off some of my just-made-a-sale energy.

Note From Editor: Aliens Spotted in Dallas

Even though the official release day for Aliens: Recent Encounters is 17 June 2013,  editor Alex Dally MacFarlane reports here on her blog that she saw, and actually fondled, copies of the anthology  in a Barnes & Nobles in Dallas. She even provides a cool shelf photo.
  
Sooooo, things are hotting up. It's sooooo exciting. I sooooo still can't believe I somehow squeezed into that amazing TOC!

There's also an interview with Alex about the anthology and her own writing over at SF Signal.

Now to get some writing done in between loads of washing. Here in Australia, this is the Queen's Birthday long weekend, so I'm eager to get the domestic stuff out of the way so I can catch up with my muses, a few movies, some rest, and hopefully a day of socialising with the good folk down at Continuum tomorrow.

Zombie Planes

In what seems to be turning into my own personal Year of the Zombie (I watched 2 seasons of The Walking Dead and am hanging out for the third, got a story in a antho that includes zombie stories, and have seriously felt like one myself as I've shuffled about for a goodly portion of 2012), at the Arvo Job yesterday, I finished listening to the first two books in Diana Rowland's White Trash Zombie series, namely My Life as a White Trash Zombie and Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues.

Wanting something light and fun to give a lift to my workdays and take my mind far from the office, the titles alone sold me when I was perusing the audio book catalogues. I had great hopes for many chuckles and euuuuuuwwwwws, and I was not disappointed. I did, however, at one point start to worry that the series was going to make being a zombie too nice, and actually enviable, so our down-and-out heroine Angel didn't seem too icky, sort of champagne zombies or zombies lite, but fortunately things quickly yucked up. Towards the second half of the second book, our smart-mouthed, halter-top wearing, trouble-prone Southern gal was being seriously disgusting and doing terribly monstrous deeds, so I went euuuuuuwwwww, relaxed and enjoyed the ride. I mean zombies! You cannot add sparkles to what are essentially rotting corpses and pretty them up the way you can certain other undead creatures (and even then, the outcome is questionable.) I'll have to download the third book in the series, White Trash Zombie Apocalypse, quick smart.

So what do you call a mechanical creature back from the dead? Is there such a thing as a zombie airplane? Just wondering, because I know my oldest little brother is probably extremely excited about the recent discovery of dozens of Spitfires that were grounded in every sense of the word over 70 years ago in Myanmar. Soon the soil will part and these revered fighter planes will rise once more from the distant past - reports vary as to how many there are, some estimating that up to 140 mechanical revenants will re-rev their powerful Griffon engines. Given that there are only 35 Spitfires still flying, the prospect of squadrons of these ancient, mythological beasts soaring amongst us again has aviation enthusiasts all over the globe almost airborne themselves, lifted by their own kind of fanatical raptures.

I like this story a lot. It gives me hope. On a planet that often seems small and feels increasingly overcrowded, it's inspiring to know that there are still spaces big enough for secrets this huge to hide, and it's a comfort to all dreamers that the world can still come up with the goods for those intrepid questers who are stubborn enough and brave enough to go forth and seek buried treasures.

Gitte's Halloween Giveaway

With only three weeks to go until restless spirits unsettled by All Hallow's Eve walk amongst us for a while, it's time to get my very first giveaway competition up and shuffling. As posted last week, the good folk at Bards and Sages Publishing have offered to send a print copy of Return of the Dead Men (and Women) Walking anthology to the winners of any competitions that we contributors might get going, so I thought I'd give it a shot. A freebie is a freebie, not to be sneezed at but a thing to be seized with joy! I've made it as easy to participate as possible, and the drawing of the winner as random as possible. I may live to regret this, but what the heck. I'll muster up some Halloween bravado and forge on. So, with a long, teenage scream-queen squeal, here we go.

Step One:  Just leave a comment naming your favourite or most unfavourite, real or made up, living or undead, horror creature. One word will do it, although feel free to wax lyrical on why you like, or despise, your chosen subject. Please, keep it nice though, or you will be deleted. You don't have to come up with a little known subspecies of Mesopotamian werewolf or an obscure Aztec revenant who haunts the world for all eternity. A bog standard comment like 'I rooly trooly heart zombz' will do, even if many others have already written this. You can even be specific and name names if you prefer e.g Dracula. Don't sweat it, just participate, then cross your fingers.

Example of Stage One: My favourite undead creatures are politicians pink zombie ponies.

Step Two : Like a marine out on manoeuvres with his mates, "shout out" your number. To do this, you'll have to check the number of the person who left a comment before you. Like the marines, keep it sequential so the sarge-in-charge, a.k.a me, doesn't get confused. The first to leave a comment is one, the next person is number two and so on.

Example: My favourite undead creatures are politicians pink zombie ponies. Fourteen!

Step Two Point Five: if you're an anonymous commenter, you'll have to distinguish yourself from the other anonymous commenters by leaving a name of some sort, real or made up, or use a call sign like 'Rubber Ducky'or 'Sparkly Vampire'. Again, keep it nice or be forever vanished into cyberspace.

Step Three: There isn't a step three. You don't really have to worry about this stage of the operation. You've done your bit. Thank you, and good on you. Good luck too. No, stage three is for me. Depending on how many people sign up, I'll either buy a fancy raffle book full of tickets with printed numbers down at the super-cheap nic-nac shop next to the supermarket, or I'll just grab a nearby pen and scribble numbers on a couple of scraps of paper. Either way, the numbers will go into some sort of Halloweeny receptacle like a stylish plastic pumpkin or a witch's hat, and a ticket or scrap of paper will be pulled forth on that creepiest of nights, October 31, 2012, the one evening when you can't be entirely sure whether or not the raggedy people you see dragging their feet on the opposite side of the street are wearing costumes.

Anyway, the fanfare that goes with this special draw may be big, it may be small. Again, depending on how many people are eager to win a freebie copy of this fine tome which is so imminently suited to being a Halloween prize, I'll find someone who isn't me to draw the winning number - possibly a random stranger dressed up as a ghost that I happen to meet in the street on that spooky evening, or, less creepily, and less likely to end with me in goal, if the turnout is respectable, I'll see if I can find a volunteer at my local writers' centre to do the honours. I might even take a picture. And wear a tiara for the event.

I'll announce the winner on this blog on All Hallow's Eve. The winner can then use my contact email on this blog to send me their postal address, which I will forward to the people at Bards and Sages Publishing. They'll make sure you then get your free copy of  Return of the Dead Men (and Women) Walking anthology ASAP.

There, I think that about covers it. Easy and random. Give it go. You know you want to. Good luck.

Dead Men Up and Walking

So late Sunday night I finished and emailed the final edit of The Snowy River Feral for what is referred to somewhat ignobly as The Dead Men antho in the contributor emails buzzing back and forth. The answers for my author interview to help promote the book went off over a week ago. The cover art has been finally finalised - looking good. I've been peeking at the other stories - they look good too. Things are falling into place and hotting up. Now I just have to sit back and try not to fidget too much as I wait for October (not so far away), for that is when the antho finally comes out in all its glory and with its full title rightfully restored. I feel like a kid gazing longingly at a bike-shaped package under the Christmas tree, itching to unwrap it and take it for a whizz around the block.

Given my glee, it was only to be expected that the Real World, which constantly, above and beyond the call of duty, I sometimes think, goes out of its way to keep me humble, tried to stuff up my good mood with a two-rejection Monday night. But hah, I can take it! There's a book full of zombie and vampire stories on the way with my name in it, so suck it up, Real World, suck it up!

Aw, That's Nice.

The place where Curiosity landed a few weeks ago shall henceforth been known as Bradbury's Landing. Here's the NASA link. And here's a picture of Ray's piece of prime Martian real estate (if we ever do get there, you can bet it'll cost a pretty penny to snag a plot in this nostalgic neighbourhood):

-

How cool is that? I love the tracks leading away from the landing spot as Curiosity sets forth on its journey of exploration. Anyway, according to NASA:

This was not a difficult choice for the science team,” said Michael Meyer, NASA program scientist for Curiosity. “Many of us and millions of other readers were inspired in our lives by the stories Ray Bradbury wrote to dream of the  possibility of life on Mars.”

I love those guys and gals at NASA. If think that if I had my time over, I'd be a rocket scientist, building cute rovers and tinkering with deep space probes and hanging out at bars frequented by adventurous geeks and noble nerds who passionately believe space really is the final frontier. And a writer too, of course.

And apropos Ray, I had a Martian Chronicles moment the other day on the train platform. I was holding my closed-but-not-yet-strapped-shut-umbrella in a certain way and, suddenly flashbacking, it seemed to look a lot like a certain weapon in a certain mini series, and I felt like aiming the tip at the people on the opposite platform and making spacey shooting noises. But that would have been undignified for a lady of my age (the under tens have all the fun).

Hmm, seeing this photo, the connection seems a tad tenuous now. Maybe you had to be there, a bit bored and unenthusiastic about the day ahead, desperate for excitement and looking at it from a certain angle...

 



Witty WIP?

The galley text for the Dead Men anthology has just arrived - time for me to put on my special nitpicking reading glasses and go looking for mistakes. It's so exciting!

The editors also sent a gentle reminder that they need the promotional author interviews in by next week - time for me to stop faffing around with "clever" suggestions on the best ways to kill zombies and just send off my answers.

It's also time for me to ease back into working on some of my more serious WIPs. However, at the moment, and I'm not sure why, I'm a mite obsessed (a phrase en par with being 'a little bit pregnant') with getting into this humour anthology. It's paying professional rates and has already received over 700 submissions, so there's hardly any competition, but hey, I'm happy to indulge, for a reasonable amount of time, any mania that gets me madly editing and polishing, creating new stories and wildly subbing. My first two attempts at this antho were rejected within hours, but I've just experienced the triumph of my third submission actually making it past the first stage firewall and being considered by the antho's editorial board (I'm calling them the 'Council of Five', and I picture them seated at a high table wearing inquisitorial robes as they interrogate each trembling story brought before them ). The story that made it that far was actually the brand new story I crowed about finishing a few days back, which wasn't too bad a result for its first time out. Alas, in the end, my exceedingly humorous, Hemmingwayesque story set in a French restaurant in 2029 did not get enough 'yes' votes to make it into the final round, but I did get an invite to submit another story. So where before I was dubious about my ability to tickle the funny bones of this antho's editors, but was nonetheless driven to try, I've now caught a whiff of  'maybe I can do it', and am rallying for one last, mighty attempt before the deadline hits at the end of the month. You see, I had this hilarious idea on the train on the way to Arvo Job on Tuesday that would be perfect...

So, once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, with my piece about a futuristic travelling salesman. Ba-boom!

The Way We Aren’t

Listening to Kim Stanley Robinson’s Red Mars at the Arvo Job and reading this NASA article about their 1966 plans for a mission to Mars have combined to make me a little teary-eyed for the days when rocket ships were considered romantic and shiny, and every second kid wanted to be an astronaut. We all used to be so optimistic about space travel and excited by the mettle-testing challenges that lay ahead. The human race moving outwards to colonise other worlds seemed like the inevitable, logical progression of human history rather than a suspect pipe dream promoted by delusional geeks intent on emptying government coffers.

This subject came up over Easter too, at our traditional movie marathon when we watched Apollo 18. We got to talking about how long ago the Apollo missions were, and how basically you've got kids who can say "It's true. Men walked on the moon in my grandpappy's time" (which sounds a bit like something out of one of the Heinlein juveniles) but subsequent generations haven't followed up with extraterrestrial explorations of their own. This is something humankind needs to rectify. We have to make space trendy again. For their own good, and to safeguard the future of the human race, whether they want to go or not, we need to shoot a few charismatic kids into orbit so they can inspire their peers to follow them. Perhaps a reality show on a space station might lure them outwards, or better still, a planet-hopping Great Race. Anything, as long as it gets the kiddies excited about climbing into a capsule and being blasted into a vacuum, for our young 'uns should be out there with their iPads blogging on the moon, Facebooking in free fall, and texting their way to Mars and beyond.

Otherwise, at the end of the day, we'll be tweeting about the sun going nova and that'll be that. The ultimate bummer.

Simple Sunday

I slept in, I scribbled some, I submitted stories, I sashayed into town to sip chai and chat with an artist friend about many issues including ye olde subject concerning the vicissitudes of balancing day jobs with the need for time to do creative stuff, then sauntered home in the glorious sunshine to hang out with the cats (and chook), do more scriberly work and wishful subbing.

I also scanned my emails regularly - there are a few pending decisions that I'm starting to get seriously keyed up about, which is NOT good. Too hopeful + excited + rejection = sad writer.

It doesn't sound impressive, but it was a lovely day. Simple is often best.

***Less lovely were the 2 dead rats (uneaten) I found in the backyard this afternoon - Cooper has been a busy boy of late. Last week, he left a dead rat right outside the kitchen door. I'm used to mouse tails and the occasional mouse head turning up these days because there's an over abundance of rodents in the country areas at the moment. Not in my house, but obviously the homes surrounding me are regretting their catlessness. Or not. Whenever I'm out in the backyard, I see Cooper jumping backwards and forwards over the neighbours' fences, bringing back his catches. Really, I should charge my neighbours for his rodent removal services. In the good old days, when honest folk truly appreciated a master mouser, I could possibly have sold Cooper for an exorbitant price and retired to a life of luxury.

Lookee here

If you squint, you can just make out that my name is on the cover (and what a cool cover it is too).

As this is only the second time this has happened (I'm usually bundled up in the phrase and others) I'm quite excited by it.

So here we have Arkham Tales #7:



If you'd like to read Rajiv and the Bn Stalks and other fine stories of much weirdness, you can go to http://arkhamtales.leucrotapress.com/ and download a PDF copy of the issue for a measly $1.99.

Roll up, roll up...

The Tangled Bank: Love, Wonder, & Evolution has launched! The anthology, which marks the 150th anniversary of Origin of Species, features over 100,000 words of speculative fiction, poetry, artwork, and essays about evolution.

An international line-up of nearly 50 contributors includes Sean Williams, Brian Stableford, Patricia Russo, and Carlos Hernandez (and me!!!!)

Just US$4.99, The Tangled Bank is now available for download as a PDF at http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/the-tangled-bank-love-wonder-and-evolution/8340048

Check out "Darwin's Daughter" by Christopher Green (a free short story from the anthology)http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/darwins-daughter/8339953

And, should you feel inclined to do so, might I humbly submit that you should also take a peek at 'Nullipara'. It was many years in the making, and I'm so glad it has found a place in such illustrious company.

Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm off to browse through my complimentary contributor's copy.