Two Reviews – The Opium War, Ms. Marvel

January 28th, 2015 § 0 comments § permalink

Hello, friends!  It’s another crazy week over here at the Gladstone House, as I rev up on the next Choice of Game.  (More details about that in the near future.)  In the interests of pressing on with game writing, I can’t take the afternoon I usually would devote to blog composition—so, instead, here are a couple reviews.  I’ve been reading more this last month, and I’ve returned to Goodreads to track my books.  Hit me up over there if you’re interested in seeing what I’m up to.  I try to keep my comments on books short and sweet, but these got away from me a bit, so… here I am.

 

Julia Lovell’s THE OPIUM WAR

Lovell’s well-written and masterfully researched THE OPIUM WAR undercuts much received wisdom about the War, its causes, and its effects.

For example: Lin Zexu, the Qing official celebrated for seizing and burning illegal shipments of British opium in Guangdong in 1839, is commonly described as an anti-opium crusader; Lovell makes a good case from contemporary sources that Lin was in fact a driven Qing official hoping a successful resolution of the opium problem would lead to his being promoted to a position from which he could achieve his final goal of improving grain shipments to the capitol.

Or: the standard line on the financial situation underpinning the Opium War is that the British were running a heavy trade deficit with China (England needed tea and silk, and wasn’t offering much in trade except silver), and so started shipping opium from India. This turned the deficit in the other direction, and China started losing immense quantities of silver on the opium trade, thus destabilizing the national economy—so the Qing government outlawed opium and dispatched Lin Zexu to break up the import market. But, Lovell points out, opium imports rose dramatically after the war, and yet the Qing economy remained stable. Turns out the silver pinch the Qing felt in the 1830s was brought on by a contraction in global silver supply due in part to revolutions and unrest in South America and Mexico, which produced something like 80% of the world’s silver at the time.

The book’s full of little turns like this, opening the standard narrative of the war like a dreamcatcher to reveal new sides and perspectives to the history in question. I’m not sure I would have enjoyed it quite so much if I didn’t have a reasonable background in the “received history” of the struggle, from books like Jack Beaching’s The Opium War and (for more general information about Western trading and missionary activities) Jonathan Spence’s To Change China.

Lovell’s account is strongest in its primary focus on the First Opium War. She covers the Second Opium War in a bit of a rush—focusing on a few highlights like the sacking of the Summer Palace, in comparison to her archival depth on the First War—and her chapters on reactions to the Wars jump around a great deal in time. I don’t think this is a problem, exactly, but it may be confusing to readers unfamiliar with 19th century Chinese history. That said, her final chapter, tracing the evolution of modern China’s history / propaganda industry post-June 1989, is a brilliant summary of her book’s themes.

The Opium Wars were important and weird. A handful of expats, missionaries, and drug smugglers cheated, shot, and conned their way to conquest. The technological disparities between the British and Qing war machines in 1840 were so great that many of the military conflicts in this book read like Independence Day. If you want a terrifying vision of what contact with technologically advanced aliens who think of themselves as “the good guys” would look like, this is your book. (Another of Lovell’s compelling inversions: her argument that the Yellow Peril narrative is at root fueled by British / Western anxiety and guilt over the one-sided indefensibility of the Opium Wars.)

Midway through reading this book, I decided to look up what happened to Jardine & Matheson, the import-export business formed by the two arch-warmongering drug smugglers of 1840s Guangdong who were prime instigators of the Opium Wars. Turns out their firm still exists. There’s a website. Its Board of Directors includes a man named “Lord Leach of Kildare.”

Reality is a strange and terrifying place.

G. Willow Wilson and Adrian Alphona, Ms. Marvel: vol. 1

A proposal: stories (or, generally, texts) can be represented as three-dimensional, even four-dimensional, shapes in the noosphere. Critical perspectives are two-dimensional planes intersecting these texts. A critical perspective’s reading of a text is the outline formed by the intersection of text and critical plane.

Let’s imagine a text that is, in three-dimensional form, a round teakettle. Some critical perspectives on that text are the equivalent of a plane cutting straight through the teakettle’s base: their reading on the teakettle is that it’s a circle. Some perspectives / projections are closer to a plane bisecting the teakettle along a line of lateral symmetry through handle and spout—in which case anyone who’s seen a teakettle will recognize the kettle’s side-on silhouette.

Some critical perspectives produce readings that are more—let’s say, informative?—about certain texts than others. Readers with the kind of critical perspective that reads a teakettle as a circle may think “this is just a circle, like all other circles. We’ve seen circles before! Why are people so excited about this one? Why, this other text over here is a complicated labyrinth! And that one’s a star!” While readers with the critical perspective that reads a teakettle as a teakettle may think “A teakettle! Thank God! I’ve wanted one of those for decades!”

I think Ms. Marvel is a teakettle.

By which I mean: comparing nothing but its use of superhero genre tropes and language to other uses of superhero tropes and language, much of what’s being done here has been done before. (As a tale of a nerdy working-class teen random-chanced into the superhero life who fights local supervillains, Ms. Marvel vol. 1 is telling something close to The Spider-man Story.) But that critical perspective is like the perspective that reads the teakettle as a circle. It doesn’t remotely capture what’s going on.

Other critical perspectives reveal dimensions to which few mainstream superhero comics aspire. Kamala Khan is a working class first generation immigrant girl from a Muslim family in Jersey City, in a far more realistic social milieu than Peter Parker’s, including frankly but compassionately drawn fault lines of race and class and faith. Ms. Marvel vol. 1’s domestic relationships also move in directions that shouldn’t feel fresh, but do: both Kamala Khan’s parents are alive! Neither of them understands her, but they both mean well! Her brother’s a complicated guy trying to figure out his own faith and place in the world! In fact, all her friends and family are struggling with their own identity issues! Who cares if the story’s similar to Spider-man’s from a pure genre-language angle? In fact, the straightforwardness of the story’s use of superhero genre language lets all these other fascinating elements hang together. “Round” turns out to be a great shape for a teakettle!

This circle-teakettle issue pops up again and again in critiques of books and stories that take the genre as a foundation to explore topics under-explored by traditional genre narratives. The standard protest goes something like, “this story doesn’t use the language (or tools, if you want) of this genre in new ways—it’s not reading the genre back to itself—therefore it’s doing nothing new.” When in fact, the work in question is doing new things. Many new things! And it *is* reading the genre language back to itself, in ways that may not be visible from a genre expert’s critical perspective.

(Sidebar: this same complaint is often leveled against, e.g., literary writers who deploy genre tropes, and a similar response applies. The book may operate in dimensions for which the “how is this using genre language in new ways” critical perspective is poor or irrelevant.)

As of its first volume, Wilson’s Ms. Marvel builds fresh and well-told stories off a strong foundation of genre language. Also, the art in this book is beautiful.

Birdman! Also, Last First Snow Preorder!

January 21st, 2015 § 2 comments § permalink

Hello friends!  First, your weekly dose of the strange: Birdman’s Oscar nods last week prompted me to publish an observation I made back in December—that the film is a Muppet Movie.  Maybe even the best Muppet movie.

Here I am on Tor.com:

Here’s how it breaks down:

Michael Keaton is Riggan Thompson is Kermit D. Frog, neurotic leader of a troupe of misfits desperately trying to make it on, or at least near, Broadway with a charmingly dated concept (Vaudville in the 80s / painfully earnest Carver adaptations in the ’10s). Their shows are a weird mix of cynicism and blinding idealism, on a shoestring budget, with enough of a revue aspect to allow for hilarious backstage costume antics—bet-the-farm passion projects helmed by a director/writer/producer/star so desperately earnest it sometimes hurts to watch him.

Read the rest of the article.  Honestly, I think this may be why I got so into this film.  It has problems, of course, and friends of mine keep pointing them out!  Basically every critic or critically-inclined individual I know has struck sparks off the invective Keaton’s character directs at the film’s main critic character, not to mention the critic herself, for example.  (Granted, there may be a little bit of hitting-too-close-to-home at work there—back when Stuff White People Like was a thing, I’d been studying Chinese intensely for several years and living in Anhui for a while, not to mention that I was in my early 20s and had very little sense of humor, so I was not let’s say properly primed to be able to laugh at the site’s “White People Like Studying Chinese” article.  I am now, but that’s another story.)  And its portrayal of big-ticket New York theater, and of Chandler, is… hopelessly romantic?  Especially given that Big Ticket NYC Theater is a Business, and film people on stage are hardly a new phenomenon.  But I made the Muppet connection about halfway through the film, and so—of course what’s at issue here are these Big Overwhelming Simplistic Emotional Questions of Authenticity and Wanting to Do the Right Thing By These Flawed Weird People, of course the theater’s almost out of money, of course the critic is genderswapped Statler and Waldorf, of course of course of course.   It’s even possible that, because of the Muppet-like vibe, I was prepared to accept e.g. the film’s lionization of Carver, who’s a great writer but such an easy touchstone for spare artistic excellence that he tends to get used as a kind of lazy metonymy for Art even though the film doesn’t really interact all that much IIRC with, like, Carver himself, as kind of fun-poking at the whole unreflective Carver-is-PURE-ART thing, in the same way that The Muppets is always both winking at the camera and refraining from winking at it, at one and the same time.  (And in the same way it’s possible to think Carver is awesome and recognize the existence of the aforementioned Carver Thing.)

And there’s something to be said for raw freneticism that holds together; this film is sort of applying the Tony Jaa aesthetic (speed! continuity! choroegraphy!) to drama; it’s like Eddie Izzard’s American Adaptation of British Film method applied to, say, the first season of Slings and Arrows.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about re: Eddie Izzard, watch this.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about re: Slings and Arrows, watch this.

If you don’t like the first season of Slings and Arrows, you’re wrong, and you’re on the internet, so… keep being wrong, I guess?

Anyway, I had a wonderful time at Arisia.  Good cons and good conversations and good parties!  I got confused for a Doctor Who cosplayer at the Doctor Who party, even though I was just dressed like normal.  This is maybe the best compliment I’ve ever received.  Lots of good crunchy conversation on all panels.  Theory abounds!  On the final day I even engaged in some good old-fashioned postmodernist (or metamodernist) moon-shouting.  Hooray!

In Publishing News for the Week, it looks like preorders for Last First Snow are live!  I think they’ve been for a while, but maybe they’re extra-live now or something?  Go ye forth and preorder!  It’s all for the best!

Stepladder Epiphanies & Gender; also, Arisia Schedule!

January 14th, 2015 § 0 comments § permalink

Last week, while revising Last First Snow, I experienced what I tend to think of as a stepladder (or dim) epiphany, after the great line in Snow Crash:

[Hiro] finally went through a belated, dimwitted epiphany, not a brilliant light shining down from heaven, more like the glimmer of a half-dead flashlight from the top of a stepladder…

(Which line I just found in under a minute with reference to a physical copy of a book I haven’t read since China, so score one for codices and the human brain’s contextual search function.  But that’s another essay.)  Some days I wonder whether these kind of stepladder epiphanies aren’t the only kind—that truth, when or if it dawns, does so in the form of statements so basic it’s almost impossible to convey their depth or significance to anyone but the recipient.  So of course I’m going to try here.  Hooray!  (Also very mild spoilers for Last First Snow, my next book, ahead, if you care.)

One central character in Last First Snow is a father trying to balance duty, family life, and religious obligation.  He’s concerned: the world’s changed since his childhood, and the models of fatherhood, husband-hood, and civic duty he inherited from his parents no longer seem valid.  He’s trying to be a good man, but he grapples with the meaning of both those words.

And I realized, amid copy edits, like ten drafts into this book, that this character’s story (or, much of this character’s story) was about gender.  He’s wrestling with questions of gender performance, social roles, moral inertia, and historical demand.  He’s trapped, or at the very least confronted, by gendered terms—father, husband, man, priest, hero, king.

I didn’t have to go back and insert this angle, to be clear.  This stuff was in the book all along.  It’s not the only aspect of his character, and he certainly wouldn’t discuss it in these terms.  But it’s there, inescapable, in the marrow of the story.  And this isn’t some weird insertion of my own.  This is core fantasy stuff.  I intended this particular character’s arc to be in direct conversation with a bunch of trad fantasy and literary fiction.  Which means all those are about gender, too.

As with all epiphanies, this one has many facets, and I’m regarding each in the light, slowly.  Many (most?) of you out there will probably read the above and think, “duh,” or some more eloquent variation on same.  Unfortunately, my ponderous pondering doesn’t lead to a nice snappy sum-up.  If you’re the kind of person who seeks morals in blog posts, here are a few:

· Books are big and complicated and sometimes you don’t realize what you’re writing until long after you’ve written, no matter how much outlining or scheming you perform in advance.

· Gender structures are part of that enormous field of karmic interaction we inherit and manage / mitigate / destroy / maintain / subvert / transcend-through-awareness-of-suffering-&-codependent-origination (choose all that apply or add your own); they operate on deep levels.

· Lots of traditional fictional / literary quandaries are much more gendered than they may appear at first unreflective read.  Or at tenth reflective read for that matter.  (Sorry, Shakespeare nerd here, so these next few parentheticals will go really fast.) (To what extent does, say, Prince Hal’s strategy in Henry IV1&2 depend on the world of gender relationships and signifiers built in the play?  Hotspur is the best jock in Shakespeare’s jockiest environment, but/and that’s ultimately his weakness; Hal uses him as catspaw—yet Hal needs to figure out how to fake certain stereotypical forms of manliness in order to be an effective king.  And in this light it makes sense that so much of Hal’s character in Henry V is explicitly public, that he’s all speeches before armies, that the few times in HV we see him in private it’s like we’re seeing a warped, ruined thing, like Voldemort’s soul under that King’s Cross bench—that the degree to which Hal seems human at all in HV and not some kind of masterful broken puppet depends on the actors’ and directors’ ability & desire to sell the courtship scene b/w Hal and Katharine….)  (For that matter some of the greatest gender/power pondering in Shakespeare takes place in Othello—”not for all the world?“—which also features Iago, dark prince of Shakespeare’s clockwork men, contrasted with lover / dudebro / digital watch Cassio, and Othello himself, basically the most successful performer of manhood in the canon up to a point.)  (And then, Jesus, Macbeth and Lady Mac…) (Sorry, I need to go reread Shakespeare, I’ll be back in a bit.)

· Pace all the rest, that warped ruined thing under the King’s Cross bench is the single image from Harry Potter that stays with me on a gut-clenching personal level.  I don’t know what that says about me.  Nothing good, probably.

· Books never ‘just happen’ to be about, say, only men, or only women, or only genderless beings from Alpha Centauri.  Each option is a choice.  (Some choices may be so karmically conditioned, see above link, that we may not know they’re choices—they may seem to us like sight, or the absence of a choice.  The trolley problem is relevant here.)

· Did you know the trolley problem was first formulated by a woman, virtue ethicist Philippa Foot?

· Our choices have consequences—including the choice to stand by, and / or act in karmically conditioned fashions.  To the extent we are adults and awake, we seek to become aware of & live with the consequences of our choices.

· I’m really excited about this next book.

Housekeeping details: I updated the events page with my schedule for Arisia this weekend.  Also, Last First Snow got included along with a bunch of other excellent books in io9s Books to Watch 2015 Megalist.  And this year looks like it’ll be a killer one for books.  New Karen Lord! Zen Cho!(!!) Elizabeth Bear! China Mieville stories! Stephenson!  Ken Liu! Lagoon in the US with a worse cover than the UK edition but whatever! KSR! Y’all should watch out for Fran Wilde’s Updraft, also!  And Seth Dickinson’s The Traitor Baru Cormorant, which isn’t on the list but really should be.  And those are only the ones I know to be excited for.

2014 Backward, 2015 Ahead

January 7th, 2015 § 12 comments § permalink

Happy New Year, friends. neighbors, and Internet People!

I hope you all had a pleasant holiday.  The days are getting longer again, which up here in US!New England is a great and glad thing.  The worst of our winter’s still ahead, but every day we claw a minute back from the darkness.  Of course, last year was the warmest year on record—though, as I understand this sort of thing, ‘warmer’ means ‘the system is higher-energy’ which, in turn, means ‘you’ll experience greater extremes of hot and cold,’ which certainly does reflect Boston 2014.  Let’s see how 2015 fares.

In terms of work, 2014 was a pretty good year for me.  For Your Consideration, as they say in the Academy, my year in writing consisted of the following:

Novels

Full Fathom Five, Tor Books, about which you can find more relevant information on its page on this very site.  Lots of people seemed to think this was a standout book from me, which was gratifying.  It’s certainly the book with which I crossed the greatest gulfs of despair and hope in my career so far—but that’s just my subjective experience of the writing process!

Short Fiction

A Kiss with Teeth, a charming vampire story, on Tor.com

Late Nights at the Cape and Cane, a story about supervillains hanging out in a bar, at Uncanny Magazine

The Angelus Guns, a tale of angelic revolution and time travel inspired by a mishearing of the lyrics to The Foggy Dew, on Tor.com

This was a fun year in short fiction for me!  One of the many things I like about short fiction is that, since the text’s comparatively short, I can hold an entire short piece in my head at once, and tell if e.g. I’m overusing a certain image or leaning too much on a certain sort of description.  Of course, that means I work short pieces over and over and over again before they go anywhere, which means short pieces take a very long time to gestate.

Fan Work

I’m given to understand that this blog, which I spent a lot of time on in 2014, is technically a Fan Work, and I am a Fan Writer.  This is only fair, I think—I’ve been a Fan about ten times as long as I’ve been anything that you could remotely term “professional,” at least by the dictionary definition of the term.  Then again, the dictionary definition may not apply here!

My most popular 2014 posts turn out to have been Ghostbusting Lovecraft,  the Goblins post in which I independently derived the backstory of the Orks from Warhammer 40k (turns out cool ideas get around!), and, trailing those two by a large margin, my post on Robert Jordan and the Plinkett Test of Character Design, as well as one of my personal favorite essays of the year, the Die Hard and Fairy Tales post.

And here’s to 2015!

By way of spoilers: right now I’m working on another Choice of Game set in the Craft Sequence universe, which will hit virtual shelves this year.  Of course, Last First Snow debuts in July—preorder early, preorder often!  Or else Temoc will get angry!  Of course he may get angry even if you don’t preorder anything! Getting angry is something he does, is what I’m trying to say! I’m in the sixth or so draft of Craft Sequence Book 4 as we speak, which features many old familiar faces, and should be on my editor’s desk at the end of the month.

After that, I’m scheming deeply about a self-contained novel, plus the next Craft Sequence book of course.  And a just-for-the-hell of it side project.  And something which you know what I’ll just leave this here for now.

So, that means I’m possibly on the hook to deliver a game, two novels, and a handful of shorter fiction this year.  It’s been nice knowing y’all! *gulp*

I have a couple open questions, if you’ve made it this far:

1. I’ve thought about writing a small pamphlet about my editing process—something describing the steps I’ve passed through to turn a book like, say, FF5, from a first draft to its final form, including notes on conception, developmental editing, and language editing.  Would any of you be interested in this?  I might do it regardless, as a passion project, but if there was some interest that would shift it up my priority list.

2. Would people be interested in t-shirts, Muerte Coffee mugs, or something similar?

And now, for something sorta sappy—

As I’m looking back at this post, at the work it describes & the work it forecasts, there’s something missing in this account of text: people.  In weeks like I’ve had recently (to wit: nose, meet grindstone), it’s easy to focus so much on the language and the keyboard and the stories and the same five video game scores I listen to on repeat because I can’t do words with words in my ears.  And, you know, there’s a decent sort of easy social component of the writer’s life, all bitterness and coffee and bourbon or whiskey or whatever’s your jam, and of course let’s not forget the creeping sense of failure.  But really, I’m here, for now, to tell stories—and storytelling is about the audience.  I tell stories to and for my friends, because dammit the things they do are magic.  I tell stories to my family, to my loved ones, to strangers who stop by and listen for a few minutes or years.

So, thank you.  Stay a while.  I have great things planned.

Resolutions. Also, How to Do Your First Pull-Up.

December 31st, 2014 § 2 comments § permalink

Last year, I resolved to post to this blog once a week.  It’s gone well so far!  Not every essay is about goblin fungus, apian Star Wars, anti-Lovecraftian philosophy, or John McClane’s fairy tale roots, but I’ve had a great time, and the weekly schedule has proved just ambitious enough to inspire.  I fully plan to remain here, and at tor.com, for 2015, though oh my god you all should see my production schedule for 2015!  I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Which is great!  The pie-eating contest’s coolest prize is more pie.  (Though money doesn’t hurt.)  Still, that’s a lotta pie!  More details as I can offer them.

First, for housekeeping: Full Fathom Five made Vox’s Best Books of 2014 list, and io9.com’s Best of 2014 as well!  Huge honors.  I’m thrilled.  The thought that excellent people are putting me on the same list as, seriously, look at every other author else on both those lists—it’s a really cool thought.  More bulwarks against impostor syndrome, for sure.

In other Max-related writing news, I wrote a post for The Book Smugglers’ end-of-year celebration, Smugglivus, about how winter is the best season for readers, including a list of some of my favorite winter reads.  Looking for book recommendations?  Hie thee hence!

And, because it’s Resolution Season—after some conversation about pull-ups on Twitter a while back I mentioned that, as of graduation from college, I’d never successfully performed a single one.  Getting to my first pull-up was a huge milestone for me.  Some folk were interested in how I got there; now, I’m not a personal trainer by any stretch of the imagination, but here’s:

The Pull-up Protocol!

aka WORKOUT ADVICE YOU MAY ALREADY KNOW BECAUSE I’M NOT TOO GOOD AT THIS OKAY??

Pull-ups!  A great movement that I used to feel an utter martial arts failure for not being able to do!  Every time I watched a movie where Indiana Jones pulled himself up over a cliff, I’d feel this stab of guilt—”were I in the same situation, I’d die.”

Then, my first year in China, I had a lot of free time on my hands, and a copy of Ross Enamait’s Never Gymless, and decided, screw it, let’s make this pull-up thing happen.  (Much of the routine below comes out of Never Gymless, which is an insane book written by terrifyingly sane person for insane people—it’s  a bodyweight combat fitness book, and consists of excellent exercise advice mixed with demonstrations that Ross Enamait, the writer, is a superhuman.  TRIPLE HANDCLAP PUSHUPS.  Tiger leaping from plank position.  “Here are some variations on the one-handed pushup if this movement is too easy for you.”  “One-arm handstand pushups develop good core strength.  I strongly recommend this movement.”  Jesus Christ.)

Three concepts that you probably already know, but I enjoy writing, so here we are:

  1.  As you know, Bob, a negative rep is the part of the exercise in which you return to the starting position.  For example, in a pushup, it’s the part where you descend from the plank until your nose touches the floor.  In a pull-up, it’s the part after your chin has cleared the bar, in which you lower yourself to the starting position.
  2. Negative reps work basically the same muscles basically the same way as positive reps, only from a different (& often easier) angle of approach.  So, by working negative reps, you can build strength for full repetitions.  It’s like an assisted rep, but you feel more badass (or at least I did), and don’t need bands or one of those weird assisted pull-up stations.
  3. Isometric exercises (e.g. static holds) are (a) awesome, and (b) build strength for ten to fifteen degrees around the particular angle articulation held.  So, if you chain isometric exercises together like pages in a flipbook, you can improve strength throughout an entire movement.  (Which is a good way to improve punching power and speed, if you’re interested.)

So, Max’s 0 to Pull-up Progression which is really just my implementation of Ross Enamait’s advice:

Start with negative reps.  Jump so your chin’s over the bar (or step up using a stool if jumping doesn’t work for you for some reason), and lower yourself slowly (like a count of five or ten?) with good form—shoulders down, lats engaged.  I started, IIRC, with pyramid sets with rests capped at 30s—for example 1 rep, rest 10s, 2 reps, rest 20s, 3 reps, rest 30s, 4 reps, rest 30s, and back down the pyramid.  I don’t know that there’s anything magical about this method as opposed to three even sets.  Like I said up top, I don’t know what I’m doing!

When you feel comfortable with the movement, incorporate static holds on each rep at the quarter-points of the exercise, so the isometric strength you’re building overlaps (like I try to describe in point 3 above).

Train to the last movement you can do with good form.  (Which is what I tell myself whenever I pick up a weight, and still I find myself trying to beast through the last rep with horrible form.)

Occasionally check max_reps on the movement.  I think for me the first pull-up came soon after I could do a set of ten controlled negative reps with isometric holds—which took a couple months of regular training (3x/week, I think).  It happened so smoothly I didn’t even realize I’d done my first pull-up until it was done.  My wife used the same protocol to do her first pull-up a few years later, so it’s not just me!  That said, if you weigh more, you’ll have to build more strength to perform the movement, which might take longer.

I still don’t have a high max volume of pull-ups, but the exercise remains one of my favorites, and I crank a few out whenever I pass a bar.  They feel great, and they’re one of the few exercises where you can think, “Yeah, I might use this some day.”  Especially if you ever become Indiana Jones.

Anyway, that’s all for the year, folks.  Have a happy one, and I’ll see you around!

It’s Christmas Eve

December 24th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

Happy holidays, everybody.  This week I have a busy agenda of re-reading Hogfather and The Dark is Rising, and hanging out with my family and my nephew.  Who is also family, I suppose, but deserves special mention.

I hope you’re all well.  Enjoy midwinter, read good books, and love your neighbors as yourselves.

I’ll be back next week.

In Which I Sing Dwarven Carols

December 17th, 2014 § 7 comments § permalink

I cannot tell you how excited I am to share this video with you all.

That’s my friend Daniel Jordan on the right; he’s a biophysicist and excellent musician who’s writing a way cool rock opera adaptation Wagner’s Ring Cycle, because that’s how we roll in Somerville Mass.

Other news, if you are insufficiently Holiday’d: Tor.com, the more fools they, invited me to write about whether The Nightmare Before Christmas is properly a Christmas movie, or a Halloween movie, or what.  This in turn occasioned me to engage in my favorite pasttime: obsessive rumination on religion and story structure, plus Die Hard references!

This is a frivolous question, sure, like some of the best. But even frivolous questions have a serious edge: holidays are ritual times, and stories are our oldest rituals. The stories we tell around a holiday name that holiday: I’ve failed at every Christmas on which I don’t watch the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. When December rolls around, even unchurched folk can get their teeth out for a Lessons & Carols service.

So let’s abandon trappings and turn to deep structures of story. Does The Nightmare Before Christmas work as Christmas movies do? Does it work as Halloween movies do? It can achieve both ends, clearly—much as a comedy can be romantic, or a thriller funny. But to resolve our dilemma we must first identify these deep structures.

Happy holidays, y’all!

 

Readers, Earning Out, and Thanks

December 10th, 2014 § 3 comments § permalink

My first book came out two years ago. Many books come out each year, but this one was mine, dammit, and I was excited! I wanted to tell cool stories, do crazy things, and make magic happen.  I didn’t know if anyone would read my work—I mean, I had high hopes, but those and two bits won’t buy you a coke these days unless you go to Sam’s Club and that’s too much tangent for even me to sustain.

A few weeks ago, this came in the mail.

zomgroy

Nothing on this check matters except for that little “Roy” in the memo line.  These are royalties for Three Parts Dead and Two Serpents Rise, which means those books have earned out of their advance.  This is amazing news.  Let me write that on its own line.

This is amazing news.

The general accepted wisdom on advances (as I’ve heard it anyway) is that if you earn out, great!  But you shouldn’t expect to earn out—the advance is the only money you should ever count on receiving.

So, earning out is a Big Thing, folks.  It means my publisher was justified in the risk they took on the first books, and will be more likely to want to publish more, which is great, because I have more stories to tell, in the Sequence and out of it.  But this isn’t really a thing I’ve done, so much as a thing you all have done.  Everyone who read the books, who reviewed them, who bought copies for their friends, who checked them out of the library, who came to a signing or said hi at a convention—thank you so much.  I love this job, and I can only do it because you care, because you read, and because you spread the word.

Also in this cool vein: my story A Kiss with Teeth landed in Some of the Best from Tor.com, a Tor.com reader poll listed Full Fathom Five as one of the best books of 2014, and then their critical roundup included it as well!

Here is an animated .gif to express my feelings about my readers:

calvinhobbesdance

 

Happy holidays, y’all.

A Bit of a Love Letter to Kip Thorne Honestly

December 3rd, 2014 § 1 comment § permalink

Hi everyone!  I’m back at Tor.com this week, with a post about Interstellar and Kip Thorne.  Behold: an essay in which I get excitable and incoherent about science writing!  Read the rest here!

Or, if you’re interested, I’m trying a strange experiment: video!  What experiment is this, you say.  Here, says I:

What do you think?  Worth doing more?  Oh my god Gladstone stay off our video internet?

Other news: I’ve published a rare Craft Sequence short story, as part of the Shared Nightmares anthology.  It’s available right now wherever fine books and ebooks are sold, stars Tara and Abelard, and is a piece of good clean fun about nightmares and office technology.  Enjoy!

Oh, and though it should go without saying: it’s Christmastime!  Have you considered possibly acquiring a nice new book for you and / or your friends?

A Moment of Silence

November 26th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

I had a Thanksgiving post ready for this year.  I have a great deal to be thankful for.

In light of recent events, I’m taking a moment to be silent.

You can donate to the Ferguson Public Library at this link.

You can donate to the Ferguson Defense Fund at this link.

You can donate to Saint Stephen’s Food Bank at this link.

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