A Gothic Bit of Schlock (Magazine)

Teodor Reljic and Michael Vella, fellow members of my writing group Hopefull Monsters, produce an online publication called Schlock Magazine.  It’s a quarterly publication that contains, well, “schlocky” speculative fiction stories.  What does that mean?  The editors describe schlock as “trash, treasures, ghosts, gore, literature, Lovecraft, sex, space, weird, wonderful, and fantastic…subject-matter that other magazines cringe at, but…pique[s] the imagination.”

For this quarter (September issue), they’ve put together a gothic-themed issue.  I must admit, after reading the stories, I’m not exactly sure why they consider it “gothic-themed”—the pieces didn’t seem all that “gothic” to me, but then again, I’m not really sure I know what “gothic” is.  Regardless, it has some enjoyable fiction beneath that cover (and some inspired interior artwork, too).  I particularly enjoyed the story “Bigger Fish” by Peter Farrugia and the issue also contains a poem, “Rosemary for Remembrance,” by Annette Bowman, a previous member of our illustrious writing group.  If you have a chance, check out the schlock at Schlock Magazine.

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“Observations on a Clock” Set for February 2012

A quick update:  My story “Observations on a Clock” has been scheduled for the February 2012 issue of Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine.  Now I need to send information for my author’s bio…always a challenge…hmmm….

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Who Gets Screwed by the Borders Bankruptcy?

Over the past month, I’ve been watching the discounts climb at our local, on-its-way-out-of-business Borders bookstore.  Recently I’ve picked up several novels by authors I’ve been meaning to read but have never seemed to get around to reading, like Charles Stross, Stephen Baxter, and Elizabeth Moon

I got to wondering yesterday about whether the authors of those books would ever see their royalties.  As someone who is an aspiring author, I’m a little disappointed that it took me so long to actually ask myself that question.  Authors live on their royalties and it seems that if the publishers aren’t paid for the books, then it’s likely that the authors will also not get paid for them.  (Publishers Weekly has the amounts Borders owes to some of the major publishers here.)  I wasn’t sure, however, if it would actually work that way because it’s the publishing houses that pay royalties to the writers, not Borders, and the publishers aren’t the ones in bankruptcy.  It seemed possible that authors would still get paid their due, but this certainly isn’t clear to me.

I did some searching of the interweb to see what I could find.  I’m disappointed to say that little has been published on it since February, when Borders first filed for bankruptcy.  At that time, speculation abounded and few concrete answers existed, and to the best of my searching, things haven’t changed.  Back in February, John Scalzi thought it would be a mixed bag on royalty payments.  Lawyer C.E. Petit painted a much bleaker picture, providing this pithy summation for authors: “[Y]ou’re screwed, but you should be used to that by now.”  That said, Mr. Petit noted that authors should still get paid, but that the publishers would likely do everything within their power to reduce the royalties paid to their authors, both now and through future contracts, to spread the pain.

So, will writers get their royalties from the books you buy at Borders?  The best answer I can come up with this is “sort of”.  It appears that writers will be paid royalties and that publishers, the ones who really got the shaft in the Borders bankruptcy, will be looking to share that pain.  That said, should you pass on the final days of the Borders sale?  Probably not.  People are going to get screwed whether you buy that book or not.  I say take a chance on an author you’ve never read before, and if you like the book, buy the author’s other books from places not in bankruptcy.  I think a lot of authors would be willing to make that trade.

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A Moment of Silence

I echo Charles Stross’ thoughts about today.  A moment of silence says everything.

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Breakfast, with Tautology(?)

My wife is a very patient woman.  She puts up with a lot of my random musings.  While fixing breakfast yesterday, I made a comment that something—I can’t remember what—was indescribable.  That made me pause.  “Doesn’t indescribable, in fact, describe the object?” I asked her.  She assured me it didn’t, to which I said, “But it’s an object that cannot be described, so that is a description of the object, isn’t it?”

“Do you think I should change the water on these flowers?” she asked.

“Don’t you find that interesting?”  After years of this dance, I already knew her answer to that question.  I readily acknowledge I have a tendency to rail about the quirkiness of the English language—don’t get me started on why we have the letter “c” when “s” and “k” already cover all the work! 

I tried to draw her back into the conversation.  “So is that a tautology?”

“Isn’t it an oxymoron?” she asked, accepting the bait.

“I don’t think so,” I said.  We then had a brief discussion about oxymorons and decided that it was not an oxymoron.  We never did figure out what it should be called.  My wife’s interest ran out long before we got there. 

“I’m going to wrap some packages,” she said and retreated to somewhere I wasn’t.

Turns out that while tautology is a great word, it doesn’t describe a situation where the existence of a word actually invalidates itself (e.g., indescribable does in fact provide a description).  I still don’t know what it’s called, and it’s going to drive me crazy.  If anyone knows, please set my mind at ease and tell me what this is in a comment.

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Reader’s Comments

I like to keep an eye on comments posted to my stories.  Call it part vanity and part market research.  I know I can’t please everyone, but it’s always nice to get an enthusiastic response.  Suzanne Conboy-Hill’s response to Nil Desperandum’s podcast of “Memories of Childhood” was one of those responses that gave me that warm-all-over glow when she called it “riveting”.

I recommend you check out Suzanne’s site and don’t leave without reading some of her fiction.  Her flash story “Moonrise“, published recently at Everyday Fiction, was brief, but entertaining.  Thanks, Suzanne, for the great ego boost and an even better story.

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Tell You What I Think: The Value of Critiquing

I think there are two ways to learn how to do something.  The first is obvious: do it.  No matter how much you read about something, there’s no substitute for actually doing it.  In writing, you can read all of the “how to” books you want, but if you don’t put your rear in the chair and actually write, you’ll never be any good.  I’ve read/heard several times that a writer should expect to write a million words before finding success.  From my personal experience, that’s about right.  Like any craft, constant practice is the key to competency and ultimately mastery.

The second way to learn how to do something is to teach it.  If you can teach a skill, then you can probably do it.  For writing, I’m not suggesting teaching a college course in creative writing; I’m talking about critiquing other writers’ stories and providing constructive feedback on what worked and didn’t work for you as both a reader and a writer. 

I belong to two writing groups—Critters, which is open to everyone (see the link on my sidebar), and Hopefull Monsters, which is a personal group—in which I spend more time critiquing other writers than I spend getting critiqued.  While having my stories critiqued has taught me specific things about my stories, and to some extent general things about my writing, I’ve learned more about writing by critiquing others.  When I critique another story I’m forced to analyze and figure out why something didn’t work for me.  Was it because I didn’t understand the character’s motivation?   Maybe it was because the central conflict wasn’t clear or well-developed?  Could it be that a scene sapped all of the tension?  Being able to work through this thought process is valuable and the more I see the problems in other writers’ stories, the more easily I recognize—and hopefully correct them—in my writing.

I don’t restrict my critiquing to unpublished stories, either.  I am nearly always in critique mode nowadays, whether I’m reading a published story by a writer unknown to me or a Hugo award-winning author.  Published works allow me see stories that have made it through the publishing gauntlet and thus represent “successful” stories from the publishing perspective.  I find published stories are particularly helpful, and I often dissect large pieces of them, looking for the underlying writing craft: the subtle way character is built through actions, the way sentence structure is used to control pacing, the way voice and point of view are used to set tone and reveal information, etc.  For me, this critical reading is important and invaluable.

If you’re an aspiring writer like me, then my advice is to do and to teach, even if you never submit that story critique to the writer.  Just the act of pulling a story apart and looking at how a published author did something is valuable.  So keep writing, keep critiquing, and then write and critique some more.  Good luck.

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An Unexpected Find

I have a bunch of Google Alerts set up to notify me when people post about my stories.  Today while I was checking those Alerts, I corrected one that I noticed had an error in it.  I immediately located a review of the first story I ever published, a flash piece called “Two Drawers Down from the Butchers Block”.  It originally appeared in 2008 in an issue of a now defunct publication called Postcards From… (which is why there is no “read” link on my publications page).  I’d like to thank Erica Naone for her kind review of my story.

One of these days I will get that story back into print, but I’m not sure how I want to do that just yet.  In the meantime, you’ll have to read it vicariously through Erica’s review.  If you have the time, stop by and visit her site, Words, Words, Words, and don’t forget to check out her fiction.

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“Thief of Futures” Now Available

The September issue of Lightspeed Magazine contains my story “Thief of Futures”.  An electronic version is available for purchase now, or you can wait until September 20th to read my story free online.  I’m excited to share the September issue with some of the best writers in the field: Liz Coleman, David Brin (one of my favorite authors), and Ursula K. Le Guin.  So don’t wait until the future to grab a copy. 

As a teaser, here’s editor John Joseph Adams’ blurb for my story:

D. Thomas Minton’s “Thief of Futures” follows Eshram Kingston through a future Kuala Lumpur, where he is hired for the dirty business of stealing the future of a child.

A final note, congratulations to Mr. Adams for his World Fantasy Award nominations: the first for the anthology he edited (The Way of the Wizard) and the second for his work as a professional editor.  Good luck to you.

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Hotel Surreal

I like to travel, so I consider myself lucky to be one of those people who get to do it as part of my day job.  I seldom get to travel in luxury, however.  I’ve spent three weeks on an Indonesian fishing vessel without any toilet paper, a month sleeping in a bunkhouse patrolled by ants the size of my thumb, and two weeks in tent in the rainforest with nothing but tin fish and chicken-flavored crackers to eat.  This isn’t a complaint, mind you, just an observation.  I wouldn’t have traded any of those places for a room in a Hyatt.

On a recent “routine” business trip, I was expecting nothing special—a standard hotel room, little muffins from Costco, lousy coffee…  So you can imagine my surprise when at the end of a long day of travel and meetings, I walked into a three-bedroom luxury suite that was larger than my house, had marble counters, restaurant grade kitchen (complete with wine refrigerator that could hold at least a dozen bottles of wine), walk-in closets in all of the rooms, a balcony overlooking the ocean, and even a built-in sound system that had separate remote controls in every room.  The first thing I wondered was how long it would take for the front desk to call and tell me they had made a mistake.

I realize place like this are an every-trip occurrence for some people, but I’m not one of them.  The experience was, to say the least, surreal.  It was like I had switched bodies with someone—I pity the investment banker who was wondering how he ended up in the room with a crocheted blanket on the bed that smelled like mildew.  If my co-workers hadn’t been there, I would have thought I imagined the whole thing. 

In many ways the place was too nice for me; I found it a little difficult to unwind—it didn’t seem right to put my feet on the bed while wearing my shoes, and I fussed about returning the mint and rosemary shampoo and conditioner bottles back to their spot in the shower rack.  I actually made sure to run the dishwasher every night and put the dishes away.  Still, it was an enjoyable stay, if for no other reason than to experience such a place—kind of like that time I spent two weeks staying in a quasi-military camp next to an active nerve gas facility (they gave me a gas mask just in case).

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