The Ada Initiative and 'Citizen Editors'

It might be good for the world, though temporarily stressful for one’s marriage, to edit an anthology together, as Leonard and I discovered when we created and published our speculative fiction anthology Thoughtcrime Experiments together in 2009. Despite the risks, maybe you should become an editor. “Reader” and “writer” and “editor” are tags, not categories. If you love a subject, and you have some money and some time, you can haul under-appreciated work into wider discourse, curate it, and help it sing.  X

I appeared in Sumana Harihareswara’s Thoughtcrime Experiments anthology long before I ever thought of becoming an editor myself (in fact, the anthology was my first pro publication!), but her post today on the Ada Initiative and ideas for citizen editors* resounds even more with my added experience. While I'm not currently planning to publish a science fiction anthology, my work with self-published and indie authors has also made me think more about the responsibilities and potential of indie publishing. 

Harihareswara's post is rich with links to additional information for writers, editors, and fans, and closes with a call to support the Ada Initiative, a program to end harassment and make science fiction and technology communities a pleasure to participate in for all people. It's work that is incredibly important and tragically timely (to the point that I feel far more relieved that I should at not having attended many conventions this year, given the reports I've heard). I'm also reminded of one more initiative I’d like to boost visibility of: the BDG Editor-In-Training Program, which helps amplify the voices of editors who are queer and/or trans people of color by providing training and support in media and editing skills. In the words of Black Girl Dangerous, “Many of us who have the most to contribute to important conversations happening in indie media, including conversations on race, gender, queerness, economic injustice, disability justice, issues affecting youth, etc., have the least amount of access to the training, education and experience needed to be successful in contributing to and leading independent media movements.” 

Sometimes I’m brought up as an example of diversity in sci fi, for my gender, and while I appreciate people being excited for my inclusion (especially given all-too-recent incidents when no women at all were appearing in certain big genre anthologies**) it’s very important to remember I’m a cis, white woman—my challenges are minimal compared to many. 

This post is also fascinating in that I’ve learned today that not only do I share a table of contents with Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy Award-winning author Ken Liu (I knew that—I’ve been a low-level but genuine fan since reading ‘Single Bit Error’ in my own copy of Thoughtcrime Experiments), but that he credits his career to the publication that put us on that table of contents! 

*’citizen editor’ is a term I just made up without reference to any external source while trying to concisely compact the ideas of Harihareswara’s idea-rich post—like ‘citizen science’ but perhaps without the hierarchy. Citizen scientists are, after all, still limited by the technology and knowledge they have access to, making them helpful but in somewhat narrow roles of data collection and simple analysis. Citizen editors aren’t limited in that way at all. If you have some knowledge of how writers & writing work, and can figure out how to use Kindle and a POD printer, you have the primary resources to become a citizen editor all the way from acquisition of manuscripts through publishing and publicity.

**I don't think most people visiting my blog are interested in playing devil's advocate, but to make my point very clear, I do not claim that I specifically would be entitled to appear in any of those anthologies, especially not at that (very very early) point in my career. Women were robbed of a position on Mindblowing SF's TOC (and others), but I would not consider myself one of them. All the same, being a young writer at the time, I wasn't precisely discouraged, but was certainly frustrated to see that gender, along with race (if not in any way as straightforward as mustache-twirling misogyny and racism, through good-ol'-boys-club networking and perhaps simple myopia), was a thing that could count against people like me and writers I admired, even in the highest ranks of the field. Part of the reason I wasn't truly discouraged was that such discrimination felt more rarely encountered among the indie publications I still mostly publish with. Which I think goes to support Harihareswara's point. 

Fictionvale pub announcement!

My fantasy story "Eisiden's Sister" has appeared in Fictionvale's 4th episode.  The third published piece featuring swordsman Rathin and wizard Anweth, it actually takes place towards the end of their timeline--and features a major twist in their circumstances.

Also keep an eye out for my guest post on the Fictionvale blog early next week. It'll be a quick checklist to getting started publishing short fiction.

I'm glad of the opportunity to guest blog, not least because it encourages me to actually complete a post. I have a number of drafts on this blog (the specific number is 64), most of which are book reviews and writing advice. The reason I haven't had a lot of time to write advice for the general public is that I've been busy working with specific manuscripts! As I wrap up client projects, I'm seeking out more, but I'm also hoping for a little more downtime in which to write both fiction and nonfiction again. 

Editing Gift Cards!

They're here! I've printed off this lovely bunch because I'm offering 10,000 words of line-by-line editing as an auction item at the Plowshare Center of Waukesha's Fashionably Fair Trade fundraiser this September. But gift certificates are also available for any wordcount and any occasion--and can be delivered electronically as well as in hard copy. I can even custom design the gift card for you to print out or email them. 

If you're lost on gift ideas for a writer in your life  (another journal just means they have to start another story to put in it!) consider getting them a manuscript edit, to be redeemed any time.  Email me and we can arrange for a wordcount-based edit (at an estimate of $5/1,000 words) to be done on a piece of the recipient's choice. I will be at my gentlest, yet nonetheless thorough, helping the writer develop their craft and bring their manuscript to the next level. It's a gift that will keep on giving!

Rummage and Toil

After almost a month back in Wisconsin, I'm relearning my way around my hometown's streets. I was out for three hours today, visiting the post office and (of course) library, gathering blackberries at the park, and visiting a mere handful of the infinite rummage sales being advertised along the road. As I followed the bright orange and glo-in-the-dark green signs down obscure back roads in sunny but fairly empty subdivisions, I realized this would make an excellent setup for a serial kidnapper.

This actually is the perfect time for one of my favorite writing prompts--going to rummage sales, sorting through old treasures, knickknacks, junk, and stuff, and selecting something out of the mass to write a story about. Personally I think it's a courtesy to also buy the item you're going to write about, simply because rummage sellers can get pretty desperate to clear out merchandise. It's a buyer's market.

So far I've picked up a new jewelry box, and could have purchased a second bookcase if only I had the space for it in my room or my car. No stray rings have come along in the box, although you never know. I could have collected a lifetime supply of Harlequins or of beanie babies, and there was far more maternity wear than I foresee a personal need for. Also computer parts, several dish sets, and two prom gowns (not maternity). What I'm really searching for is a tea kettle, now that I've purchased a tea pot at the antiques mall in downtown Waukesha. I feel I've really committed to the literary lifestyle now that I own my first bookcase and a tea pot.

I'm only using two and a half shelves of the bookcase, though. I'm not only surprised but a little appalled at myself. One of those shelves, though--the entirety of it--holds my 'to read' list, including 15+ library books. And a Nook with over 200 volumes. This blog isn't called Story Addict for nothing.

Of the wild blackberries, I will say they are plentiful enough to almost make up for the near-complete lack of strawberries this year. I don't know if I should blame the rain or the cold winter for the latter, of if I was merely out of state during the week or so they're ripe. The blackberries are easier to spot, being higher off the grown and having a distinctive shape--both the bend of the blackberry cane and the crown of berries at the top, with the ripest inky-black ones at the center of the cluster. This year, they happen to have outsourced the job of self-defense form their thorns to hordes of mosquitoes. Having made this unfortunate discovery last Monday, I came prepared with bugspray today. I killed most of the critters that landed on me last time (and given the mosquitoes who suck blood are all preparing to lay eggs, I like to think I made a dent in the next generation)--but that's poor comfort when my arm's all one solid itch that long outlasts my harvet of berries.

News and forthcoming reviews

Well! This past June 8, I celebrated a birthday by touring Mt Vernon and leading my mom on a perhaps ill-advised adventure to the Bake Shop at Clarendon for macaroons (fittingly, they had Birthday Cake flavor). Ill-advised because our GPS satellites konked out on the return journey, leaving a woman from Wisconsin and a woman unfamiliar with driving in D.C. to navigate our way back to the hotel. I began to suspect some force didn't want me to leave the Washington metro area.

But, whatever that force intended, I have in fact returned to Wisconsin--after a somewhat leisurely journey through Virginia and southern Ohio, with frequent stops to see tourist sites my mother and I have passed by on more purposeful trips over the past 18 months. The theme was, unintentionally, presidential deathbeds (Washington, Jefferson, and Madison all passing away peacefully at their homes at Mt Vernon, Monticello, and Montpelier, plus a stop at Ford's Theater in D.C.). We also got to explore Mound City, Serpent Mound, and the Adena Mansion (which upon reflection is I think the source of the name of the early Adena moundbuilding culture) around Chillicoethe, Ohio.

I've been back in Wisconsin for about just over 3 days now. This house is much more peacefully quiet than the apartment in D.C.--although I miss my desk, as handling a laptop charging cord while contorted on the living room couch is a different sort of experience. Well, a desk and a bookshelf are all that is lacking to convert the spare room into an Official Writer/Editor office.

Speaking of writing/editing: I've had a new publication in Issue #24 of Neo-Opsis magazine. "Sibial' in Exile" is a story about loss, grief, and, well, exile. It's tempting to consider whether it reflects on the twinges of D.C.-homesickness I've been experiencing on occasion this past week (a little weird, given I've just done a literal homecoming), but honestly? I think it's glummer than that. Sibial' was drafted as someone I loved was dying, which I think is key to understanding it. Not all science fiction is a metaphor. But sometimes science fictional events are parallels to real life ones. Anyway, besides being in some very strange was autobiographical (but then, I suppose every story is, if we'll use the term so liberally) "Sibial' in Exile" is also the opening of a wider range--not precisely a series, but a number of stories sharing this background.

I have a few more of those stories on my to-write list for the summer. Also on my to-write list are a series of blog posts about writing and editing, including a master list of writing resources that couldn't quite fit into the Starter Guide for Professional Writers. Then come the book reviews, thanks to rich windfalls from both LibraryThing and Goodreads giveaways. An ARC of Half a King is my first introduction to Joe Abercrombie, and while I feared he'd be grimdark along the lines of George R.R. Martin or even Richard K. Morgan, his characterization is actually very...well, not lighthearted, but with an essential underlying compassion that is very refreshing and extremely engaging. I'll be checking out more by him for sure.

"The Witch Hunter's Account" in Nameless Magazine

Nameless Digest Issue #3 contains, among many other fine stories, my "Witch Hunter's Account."

Like "The Astrologer's Telling," published in Daily Science Fiction last month, "The Witch Hunter's Account" was inspired by one of Lovecraft's favorite authors, Arthur Machen, and is also a response to Lovecraftian cosmic horror, again with fewer tentacles and, I like to think, less xenophobia than Lovecraft. Hmm, actually, scratch that bit on the xenophobia (although I'm sure a conversation could get started on the refugee themes in "Astrologer's Telling." It may not have been a conscious screw-you to Lovecraft's intolerance, but I'd be tickled if people read it as such). No, Witch Hunters aren't exactly known for their open-armed acceptance of difference.

In "Harmony," a story published in Kaleidotrope Issue #8 some years back, I made my first attempt to hash out a dichotomy or Harmony/Discord--not good/evil or order/chaos, but rather permissive-of-life-as-we-know-it/utterly-inimical. It's not that Discord is objectively bad (there is no objectivity), it's just...very easily made uncomfortable for us squishy organic lifeforms. But even here it's not a clean cut. Because sometimes we want the rules of the universe to work differently, at least for a short while. A lot of the themes in "Harmony"--including the seductiveness of Discord and the "they who hunt monsters" elements hinted at beneath the surface--are further developed & examined in "The Witch Hunter's Account." Plus I got the chance to develop the culture of colonized, terraformed 31st century Mars, a place I certainly hope to return to with later stories.

An excerpt from "The Witch Hunter's Account":

Just before dawn—the dossier said she was an early riser—I drove up the cliff-hugging pink gravel road. The gates opened at my name although I knew I wasn't expected, and I parked in a courtyard shaded by some of the most luxurious growth I had seen on Mars. A housekeeper, dressed in smart black, was passing a sprinkler over a bed of poppies in the shade of a vast palm.     
"Go right in, Mr. Saye," she said. "The gate announced you. Ms Mao will see you in her study, right at the end of the hall."     
The inside of the house was as comfortable and modest as the exterior, though again overgrown by plants spilling from urns and troughs set before windows, on tables, and even directly on the plush burgundy carpet, staining it with water around their bases. The hall was permeated with an unnerving feeling of good health. I hurried to the door at the end of it, and it swung open at my touch. Also unnerving, the way every door and gate seemed to yield to me.    
 The study wall opposite the door was taken up by a vast window overlooking the sea. A pale Martian sunrise polished the waves, and it was a moment before I looked away from the sight to see the woman standing at a narrow bookcase.     
"Ms Mao?" I said.     
She turned to me, sliding a book back onto the shelf. Theophania Mao had a slender body and a round face, unlined save for softening wrinkles at the corners of her dark eyes. Her hair, onyx-black, hung to her chin in a style graceful in its plainness. Her long red dress was tailored in the fashion of a business suit.     
"Mr. Saye," she said, "would you like to sit down? And you would mind if I called you Jonathan?"     
Of course, she must have thought I was a client. A patient, I corrected myself—the file Edith Zann sent me said she didn't charge for her miracles.     
But she did call them "miracles." I took a seat with my back to the window.     
She pulled up a chair and sat across from me. "Can I get anything for you? Coffee? Wine? A glass of water?"    
 "No, thank you." I realized I still wore my hat and removed it, with a nod of apology, wondering what about this case was making me so nervous.    
 "Are you certain?"    
 She asked with such insistence that I said, "Water would be fine, thank you."     
She buzzed the order into her intercom with a small smile. The knotting in my gut unraveled, then rewound itself, as I considered her. She plainly enjoyed offering a helping hand, if only by offering refreshment to a stranger at her door. She had a generous spirit, the air of a person born for service. It disarmed me—while I knew some fell into Discord for noble reasons, it was academic knowledge; the only crusaders I had met were like Zann, on our side.    
 "I have something to ask you, Ms Mao," I said.     
She bent forward in her chair. "Yes?"     
"I want to know how you do your healing."     
Her eyes lowered, and she sat back like a reprimanded child. Her voice was firm but also apologetic as she said, "I can't teach you how to do it."     
I shook my head. "I don't need to know for myself, ma'am. I'm curious about your own method."    
 Her eyes narrowed. Anyone who might have taken her eagerness to help as a sign of weakness—or naïveté—would have been corrected by that look. "Why?"    
 "I have some interest in science," I said. "I'm slowly forming a theory of how things perceived as miraculous—like your healing or Miguel Chapman's levitation and walking on water—"  
 "Miguel Chapman's performances," she said, "are all charlatanism."       
"I'm not so sure, ma'am. Either way, I'd like to see examples of your work, and try to fit it into established science."

"The Astrologer's Telling" up at Daily Science Fiction

...charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low.

Ever since I first encountered that nightmare image, from H.P. Lovecraft's prose-poem "Nyarlathotep," I have wanted to write a story about the stars going out. A morbid urge? Absolutely. But there's a certain virtue in morbidity; it makes me thoughtful and perhaps compassionate, if that's a thing a writer of apocalyptic fiction can be.

And so "The Astrologer's Telling" comes from a different philosophy than Lovecraft's more nihilistic landscape.I hope it proves, as well as terrifying and mournful, perhaps a little inspiring. I spent some time worrying about the science of kindling and extinguishing stars, before I at last embraced the fact that my interest was much less scientific than artistic and emotional. And I hope the story is more impactful for it.

About this time last year, this story received an Honorable Mentions in the Dell Magazines Award for Undergraduate Excellence in Science Fiction and Fantasy Writing (whew! I've never been able to write the full name without looking it up). I am very grateful to Rick Wilbur and Sheila Williams for constructive commentary after the contest.