Saturday, November 22, 2014

A momentary impulse seized me ... or it will ... or it did

I was looking at Book Riot and ran across this video from books and pieces, which I'm linking to on YouTube.  Partly I was just interested in the flapping hands and the strange urgency with which she speaks -- she seems to be really afraid we'll all get bored or tell her to shut up or something, when in fact she's a good deal more interesting than most of the people you can find browsing the net and nearly all of the people you can find hanging out in the coffee house. 

The question was about the attraction of the 30-80 year -- or really, the 50 year -- future.  Why is so much SF set at about that distance in time?

She mentions most of the usual explanations: fifty years is about the right time frame to be comprehensible but still strange enough.  It's far enough away so that there is more than one likely alternative, close enough so there are not an infinite number of incomprehensible ones. It's an artifact of the limits of writerly imagination.  All that sort of thing.

Let me throw out one she didn't say that seems likeliest to me, and maybe that's just because I'm an increasingly old poop who spends more and more time these days working around young people. (I highly recommend that combination, by the way. You get to be near all that energy and interest and excitement but you're not obligated to have zits, cliques, or obsessions).

Science fiction, if we are talking about professional venues (defined as "the check would be enough to make a difference in your month or longer")  is written by youngish (usually late 20s and up) through middle-oldish (70s or so) people.  Add fifty years to their age and you get middle-oldish to dead.

But some people from our present will still be alive in fifty years, with memories of our time.  They are those short guys we call "children."  I was born in 1957; 1964 is memorable for me (though I missed a lot, too, of course), in a whole swarm of details.

Many people's idea of what the world is like is formed in childhood (and sometimes never changes, or changes only slowly); furthermore, if children are not too severely abused or neglected, and most aren't, they tend to like the world of their childhood and to think of it as normal and right.  (One of many reasons why reactionaries can find new reactionaries, I suppose). 

So, when I sit down to write about what happens in 2064, I'm imagining a world where:

1) I'm dead or close to it, and certainly out of most social circulation.
2) But kids (e.g. grandchildren) are still around (oldest grand will be sixty, an age I have no trouble imagining, and presumably 2014 will seem about as remote as 1964 now does to me).
3) And my present day existence will be remembered mainly by people seeing it in the mental golden glow of childhood.

Just to spill more amazebeans upon you: most writers love attention, and really love favorable attention, and want to be well thought of.  So when I set a story 50 years into the future, I'm picking a period when the elderly experienced characters with wisdom ("old wise guys") are people I know today, but are most apt to think I sure was swell. Or more likely awesome.  Probably sick, actually.  No matter. It is the time when I am likely to be out of accurate living memory, but still in living memory,surrounded by the glow of nostalgia.

And I'm guessing this feeling is true for a lot of writers.  Besides the video cited above, I recently had occasion to re-read Heinlein's Requiem (the story where D.D. Harriman hires a couple broken down rocket barnstormers to fly him to the moon, and dies there, leaving the RL Stevenson "home is the hunter" poem on an air tank tag as his epitaph).  Heinlein wrote it in 1940; it's set in 1990 (two years after Heinlein's actual death -- you don't get much more precise than this, do you?) 

So when Harriman tries to explain to these two spacemen why he wants to see the plain old moon even if it will kill him, he falls back on telling them about his childhood, and talks about being an 8-15 year old kid who lived and breathed ... science fiction magazines. Popular Mechanics, Popular Science, Boy's Own Electrical Experimenter, all that pop science stuff that was all over the newsstand in the 20s and 30s.

Harriman is 70-something  at the time (the doctor who won't let him fly says so).  So he was born between 1910 and 1920 ... about a decade younger than Heinlein.  A rich kid, crazy about science in the late 1920s or early 1930s ...

Three guesses who D.D. Harriman's  favorite writer was, and I'm sure you'll be right all three times (though we have no way to check). Maybe Heinlein himself, but also very likely Doc Smith, Murray Leinster, H.G. Wells -- the writers Heinlein conspicuously loved.  And if that kid had somehow known the rather dashing young naval officer that Heinlein was when Harriman would have been ten years old ... well, if that's not the warm glow of memory, what would be?

Really, it's remarkable how well SF writers resist having the children they like grow into admirable, heroic adults who then remember their creators (or the characters who are surrogates for their creators) with the same glow that Disney, Thornton Wilder, or Heinlein brushed over pre-WWI smalltown America, like Thomas Kinkade the day that the store had a special on Valium and chrome yellow.


Quick note here: I felt the urge, I wrote the piece, wanted to see how long it would take to just dash something off about an idle thought.  Might do it again or not. Those of you who like the blog, hope neither too much nor too little. Those who don't, why did you read this far?

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Another one of those completely unpredictable revivals

I keep hoping to get back to regular blogging, which I've missed -- it's the equivalent of listening to myself talk, which is one of my favorite things in the world -- so I thought I'd just pay a quick visit here after all these months because there are some little bits of news, and maybe a thing or two to say.  And then I'll either disappear again for months or start showing up with long form thoughts, whichever seems to come more naturally.

So first the big news: Today was the release date for the paperback of THE LAST PRESIDENT, which you can find on Amazon, or if you're currently mad at them, on Barnes and Noble, or if you'd prefer your business to go somewhere less corporate, at Powells, or if you want to find some nice friendly obscure corner of the universe, you can always go to IndieBound.  THE LAST PRESIDENT wraps up the "origin trilogy" for my Seven Nations future that began with DIRECTIVE 51 and continued through DAYBREAK ZERO.

Those of you who have looked in on Wikipedia or a couple of other places know that one reason why THE LAST PRESIDENT was long delayed was a struggle with my publisher, and that I've said I hope someday time and space may permit me to issue a "directors cut" (i.e. a The Way It Spoze To Be Version) of the first two books, and some people have said they'd rather not start the series if things are going to change behind them as they read.  

 I've answered that question in a few different places, but never here on my own blog, so I'll explain, and then leave it up to you:

The major editorial difference between me and the otherwise reasonably pleasant people at Ace, was, in my opinion, they wanted a novelized screenplay according to present Hollywood linear-storytelling principles, and I wanted SPRAWL. Let me make that point in larger type: I love and value SPRAWL in my own reading, and in general if a story has one clear hero with one clear problem around which all the plot turns, it bores the living shit out of me.  Esthetically I'm much more in the camp of Dickens, Dumas, Steinbeck, Sabatini, etc. Or if you prefer, I'm much more a Game of Thrones kind of guy nowadays, and not much of a Dark Knight Trilogy type.

So I originally conceived and planned a sprawling epic with a large number of intersecting subplots, and one of the things I liked most about it was the idea that I would not have to have a side; I could be on many sides at once, rooting for the Daybreakers to bring down the Big System (I've got a deep Luddite streak) and for the Feds to stop them or reverse the process, letting my right wingers talk like right wingers and my leftists like leftists and the squishy Democrats in between do their squishy well-meaning things, and so on. 

And the constant feedback from the editor was:

 cut that you don't need that take that out pick a side we need a thread we can follow one line one true make it something we can summarize in a sentence with one hero one problem one issue tell us which side is right don't let him do bad things he's a good guy don't give so much sympathy to the bad guys BECAUSE HE IS ... and anyway don't explain how that works people want to read what blows up next don't tell that story about the character it doesn't lead anywhere ...

So the first two books were chopped way, way, way down,  with me trying to keep them sprawling and ambiguous and undecided and interesting, like the world, and the editor trying to narrow them down to one-hero-one-problem-on-one-side like  movies-on-the-reader's-forehead.  One way we frequently compromised was that I got to have some of the material left in but with scenes shortened, and with everything forced into a role of amplifying the Heather O'Grainne Tries To Save The Republic plot. 

It was kind of a  perpetual kicking the can down the road: well, you can work that stuff into the next book, and make it the center of that.  As long as it only has one clear center.

That all came to a head with THE LAST PRESIDENT because there were a bunch of plots I was now expected to drop altogether (since there wouldn't be room to finish them) and because Heather's story is rather a fizzle in that part of the epic; other characters have much more interesting things to do, while she mostly reflects on the huge changes in the two years while civilization collapses and something like 7.7 out of 8 billion people on the planet die.

So this led to a complete impasse because, frankly, I was tired of putting my name on a simplified-for-movie-morons version of my books, and I'd spent years vandalizing the work I liked on the promise that the books would sell well, but  the marketing in fact was de-emphasizing most of what I was interested in, and shoehorning them into categories where the audience they would go to didn't interest me as much. 

And I don't know about other writers might have done, indeed once upon a time I thought I was pretty good at "being professional" a.k.a. self-betrayal, but I found it hard to keep coming up with the energy to finish ruining an idea I had once loved.

After about a year and a half in that impasse, we struck a deal: I wrote THE LAST PRESIDENT as if the first two books had been the ones I wanted to write, and they basically cut me loose; there's no expectation that the series will continue at Ace (but in today's world, it can continue many-elsewhere'd). 

Thus, THE LAST PRESIDENT sprawls and jumps and characters who were barely left as nubbins in previous books are suddenly major, and it may dislocate a few readers with highly precise and detailed memories, but it's about the characters and situations it should be about, and it isn't on a side and most of the numbers (of plots, characters, problems, etc.) are way honking bigger than one.

As for what will go into the eventual-if-ever director's cut, well, I will probably undo, retcon, or replace very little, perhaps nothing, that is in the current published editions of DIRECTIVE 51 and of DAYBREAK ZERO. It's just that a whole lot of fun scenes, subplots, and characters that should have been there in the first place will be there, replacing the short narrative summaries or the quick reports in dialogue that were put in as placeholders. Collum Duquesne, who was a fun character in the last half of Directive 51, will actually get to appear on stage, instead of only by report later. You'll get to see how the guy that shot down the hijacked Air Force Two guides his family to survival. You'll see more of the activities of Darcage earlier, and spend more time with the Carlucci family as they adapt to life in the FBI compound in San Diego, and watch more maneuvering between Duquesne and Quattro and Harrison Castro over who's going to lead the Castle Movement, and instead of coming in in the last few chapters of THE LAST PRESIDENT, the guys who <spoiler> will have been there all along having major adventures across Asia, and well, shucks, just LOTS

The whole idea, originally, was LOTS, after all.

But you won't have to unlearn anything from the current editions. They're chopped and ground down in ways that irritate me, but they're not wrong.

Now, the reason for engineering the Seven Nations Future in such a complex way is surprisingly simple: I wanted a huge canvas for all kinds of adventures, and it took a pretty big story to set that up. I wanted to contrive a dieselpunk kind of world that would never be wiped out by computers and nukes, as was the interwar era where so many of my favorite pulp adventures took place. And now I have that world set up, even if the setting up process irritated the hell out of me and wasn't nearly the fun it should've been.

So I'm not going to go back and fix the origin trilogy anytime soon. Rather, the next books set in that background will be mostly young people having adventures in the brand new Post-Daybreak shattered world. Sometime this fall I hope to write about how Acey Carlucci makes her bones as fighter, scout, explorer, and operative by delivering her gentle, sensitive brother to college -- across 2500 miles of crazy Tribals, paranoid freeholders, and some honest-to-the-premise pirates. After that, I think it's time for Whorf and Ihor to sail on Discovery  again, but it might be something else entirely; Cassie and Pauline are well positioned for a different adventure that might be next instead.

Those next few novels will be mostly much shorter adventure stories,  and I suppose that might be more appealing for those of you with Save-the-Cat movie esthetics; I like writing short novels too, though I still think the business of a novel is to digress interestingly, even if briefly.
So it might be ten more novels in the series before I get back around to the origin trilogy. Or three, or never. And of course a cement mixer might drop off the overpass onto me and my old Kia tomorrow.*

 If any of that helped you decide whether to read now or wait, you're welcome. And if you've been following right along, well, the paperback includes all the thrills of the hardcover, cheaper, and suitable for jamming into the back pocket of your overalls.

Other news of possible interest:

•The nice people at Open Road who have been reviving much of my backlist are bringing back the three Timeline Wars books, sometime in the next few months.  Those are the adventures of Mark Strang, who travels across time blowing things up, because he's so crazy that it seems like a good idea.**

•The last convention I went to was Worldcon in Denver in 2008, somewhat under duress (my agent at the time had had to cancel coming, and insisted I take his ticket so I could take agency clients to a dinner for him).  For some reason or other I have decided to try going to a convention again; I always enjoyed the small literary convention Bubonicon, in Albuquerque, which I think of as sort of a less-pretentious Western version of Readercon. So I intend to go to that; it's in the first week of August.

•For those wondering what I'm working on at the moment, I'm closing in on finishing another mainstream YA, my first since Tales of the Madman Underground, with a working title of Grace, Basically. I'm writing it on spec because I seem to have no ability whatever to write a proposal that explains what a mainstream novel is about, except "It's about 90,000 words" in this case. Next after that will be MUTINY ON UMBRIEL'S GLORY, which returns us to the adventures of Jak Jinnaka, and which I expect to be quick (but I am a notoriously bad predictor of such things), and then the untitled-so-far next book in the Daybreak series I described above.  Also in the works, in parallel because it uses a different part of the brain: the self-explanatory SINGAPORE MATH FIGURED OUT FOR PARENTS, or "you too can understand your child's arithmetic homework again."

And I think that's more than enough for a blog post revival. Those of you who have loyally hung on watching this blog as it gathered cobwebs and dust, I have no idea whether this is a brief lurch from the grave or the start of regular blogging again; most days I can't remember what I had for breakfast and can't plan what's for dinner.


*leaving the crushed wreckage of a worn-but-serviceable cheap way to go places, inside his smashed car. 

**Right now I have no plans for the Time Raider books, which were the adventures of Dan Samson, who travels backwards in time blowing things up, because he's so dumb he can't think of anything else to do.  I often thought of fusing the two concepts into a series to be called TIME TRAVELING PSYCHOTIC MORON, but I probably won't write that one.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

However briefly, a blog about something that might really matter

There's this friend, whom I will call John Johnston because that's his name, with whom I share very little in the way of politics, a great deal in the way of artistic tastes, and kind of a mixed bag on hobbies.  It happens one hobby we share is spy-watching; I'm assuming most of you know that much of what determines humanity's future happens in little administrative offices and cubicles,  or in quiet offices on university campuses or military bases, or overhead in space, and very occasionally leads to some action here and there but mostly is just an endless unacknowledged game between all the nations of the Earth.  If there is going to be genuine autonomy and liberty for the species, ever, it will have to close down some day, but it seems very unlikely to happen within my lifetime or even that of my grandchildren.

Most of the time, spy watching is rather like trainspotting, or bird watching; oh, look, there's one now, talk to your friends about whether everyone saw it, that's that, no consequences.  Neither John nor I is a particularly keen spywatcher; we both have other hobbies we give more time to.

But now and then something interesting happens and even more rarely it comes leaping out onto the front pages, and just as the birdwatching community wigged out and let everyone know a few years ago when it looked like the ivory-billed woodpecker might still be with us after all, the spywatchers get excited enough to talk about something.  This time, for Americans anyway, it might actually be something important, and since the USA tends to be a pivot point the world swings around, maybe for the rest of you.

So let me lay it out as I see it.  Today's Washington Post revealed that the DNI -- Director of Naval Intelligence, #1 spy guy in the US Navy's Office of Naval Intelligence, which for historic reasons tends to be the seniormost and most influential of the US armed service intelligence agencies -- Ted Branch, has been suspended and his access to classified information at least temporarily shut down, due to the rapidly widening corruption and bribery scandal surrounding Glenn Defense Marine, a Malaysian company that seems to be rather spectacularly corrupt.  Branch's chief deputy/assistant, Bruce Loveless, director of naval intelligence operations (the guy who makes sure the DNI's orders are carried out) was suspended at the same time.

That's the highest the scandal has reached, but that's plenty high; the DNI reports directly to the head of the DIA and to the Secretary of the Navy, each of whom report directly to the Secretary of Defense, and it's a level at which it's not unusual to be asked to testify before the secret Congressional committees or the Cabinet, or to brief the President.

Branch and Loveless have not been convicted of anything, yet, of course, but the Washington Post is doing that ambiguous dance they do when they know charges are pending but can't quite say so.  Other people who have already been charged -- including one from the supposed-to-be-the-watchdog NCIS -- are accused of having passed on information about ship and submarine movements to Leonard Glenn Francis, a Malaysian often called "Fat Leonard," who heads up Glenn Defense Marine.  His ostensible reasons for buying the information is that his company is a major supplier of services (tugboats, fresh food, etc.) to the US Navy in the Far East, and he was buying his way to an unfair competitive advantage.

Here's the catch, which gets us spywatchers really interested: the Malaysian corporate world is absolutely crowded with overseas Chinese, who in turn have a web of family connections back to the mainland.  What you say to a Malaysian shipping, harbor services, or other maritime company exec on Tuesday morning is going to be discussed in Beijing by Tuesday lunch.  

Please note I have no kick against any Malaysian or Chinese involved in this. They have their interests and purposes, they're pursuing them, international politics is not a game of Candyland, and they're doing what any cunning businessperson or smart spy would do for his or her company or nation.  

But I do have a kick with their American suppliers.  Because the information they were selling was not just about getting towing and salvage contracts for an ambitious foreign company; it's about the movements of the Seventh Fleet (and probably the Third and Fifth as well), and if things go bad in the Pacific, that could make an enormous difference. 

And although the Navy is saying, right now, that Branch and Loveless broke the rules back before their present appointments ... well.  You don't go to DNIO and DNI straight from aircraft maintenance, or the Seabees.  Anyone in either office has been a spy or a spymaster most of his career.  The dangers of sharing any information with a Malaysian business has to have been screamingly obvious; there's no way this was unwitting.

Nor do I suggest that Branch and Loveless were directly working for Chinese intelligence. I'm perfectly willing to believe they simply sold information to a leaky third party for the money.  Money is historically the most common motivation for American traitors.

Ooh. Ugly word. Should I be saying that word?

But look, folks, here's what's right there in public: two admirals who must have spent most of their careers in naval intelligence (whether openly or not) are being investigated for having taken money from a foreign company  that, if it is not actively aiding Chinese intelligence at the corporate level, is surely so penetrated as to make no difference, and they can hardly have avoided knowing it.  It was their business to know it, for most of their careers. And the information shared included ship and fleet movements -- the very core of what are usually considered defense secrets.

Just on the face of it, what they did is far more prosecutable than anything Snowden did.  Ethel Rosenberg went to the electric chair for less.

Now, there's a constitutional argument about whether or not "giving aid and comfort to the enemy" is a separate requirement for treason from "adhering to the enemy," and it's relevant because these guys very likely committed the former but not the latter (assuming they haven't been framed or there aren't other mitigating circumstances as yet unknown to the public).  There's another argument about whether giving intelligence to a third party that you know is going to leak to what is, after all, a major trading partner and a nation with which we have fairly good relations, but which would be our most dangerous enemy if things change, is at all the same thing as doing it with "the enemy."  So maybe a charge of  treason is a step too far.
But we were at peace with the USSR when the Rosenbergs were electrocuted, and we'd been allies with them when they committed their offense.  And Snowden, after all, distributed the information to the world, trying to put an end to something he saw as unjust; in no way could he be construed as trying to assist in an attack on the USA, or even in making it more likely.  If the treason laws can stretch as far as them, it can stretch to these two admirals.

So here's what I'd like to think might be happening: President Obama and the leadership of both parties in Congress -- (Boehner and Pelosi, Reid and McConnell) ought to be having a quiet conversation that will go something like this: we have, or probably have, deep, dangerous, and pervasive rot at the top of our professional defense/intelligence community.  We must know how far it goes.  Just to sift the evidence is going to take (if this case is typical) at least most of the rest of the Obama Administration, and prosecutions and trials may well continue till 2020 or so.   So here's the deal: no deals, and no politicization.  Obama and Holder start the investigations and work them as hard and as long as it takes. Next administration takes over and continues them.  Whether anyone has a D or an R after his/her name, we keep catching rats till there are no more rats to catch, and we clean this up.

Because, if you haven't noticed, dear readers, and everyone else: this is really, really bad.  I'm not a lawyer, but it reeks of treason.  And if our highest ranking officers are let off the hook for it ... well.  the eagerness and ease with which some high ranking French generals joined Vichy? the movement of so many senior Army officers into the army of the Confederacy? the German judges who let the Nazis go free? the speed with which Franco made the army his own?

Pick your analogies where you will.  But we've got rats, and they're not Republican or Democratic rats, they're just rats.  You all can fight about guns and abortion and health care later. Get on the big job, make the deal, and preserve the country.  That's what we hired you to do.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Jak is even more back

Open Road has now made Kindle editions available for the first 3 Jak Jinnaka books.  Unlike the old cleaned-up-downloads-from-the-Warner-Books version, these have had an actual editor, and they have covers that have something to do with what's in the book!

Readers who approve of courtesy to living authors will read these and no others!

Pop on over and look at the new versions of
The Duke of Uranium
A Princess of the Aerie
In the Hall of the Martian King

AND ...

sometime in the spring, look for Jinnaka #4, Mutiny on Umbriel's Glory. 

Because something I've said in the newsletter is proving to be true: in this new age of publishing, no series is dead until both the writer and the fans want it to be. 

More about this soon, including some cover images, but since I'm feeling pretty happy about all this, I thought I'd put it out here to celebrate.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Jak is back, and on the track, and that's not whack

One benefit of being back in the saddle of a real teaching job (and an interesting one, too, these kids are fascinating in so many ways) is that I have many more ideas and more interesting ones than I did. One major drawback is that I no longer have time to write them down.

So, for the moment ... a bit of news: Open Road Media, the same people who brought Encounter with Tiber back out, are re-launching my old Jak Jinnaka series, beginning with The Duke of Uranium

And because Open Road is a genuinely innovative place where they're actually doing a lot of the kind of things I talked about in "Author, Market Thyself" a couple years ago, and they have eagerly used my marketing research and share my basic philosophy about marketing books, I am quite certain that ....

Well, actually I'm quite certain that I know absolutely nothing about how it will turn out. 

But I am also certain it's much more in line with what I wish book publishers had been doing all along. 

Newsletter readers received a rather lengthy discourse about how I thought Jak Jinnaka was mismarketed (and how it happened to be) when he first appeared 11 years ago.  I guess if any of you who don't subscribe to the newsletter but want to read about book mismarketing at length were to drop me a note I'd shoot you a copy of that back issue.  But the super-short version is this: marketing of course directs readers to books they are likely to buy, but its more important function is to tell them how to read and like the book -- accurately.  Any time a reader is tricked into something they won't enjoy, it hurts all of us writers and readers; any time a reader is steered away from something they would like, or worse yet coached into reading it as something they won't like, that's an absolute disaster.  The marketing is as much a part of the work of art as the work itself (see my articles in the Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre and Performance on Publicity, Playbills and Programs,  and on Posters for a somewhat technical discussion of all that).

So hurray for the new Jak. I don't know if you'll like him, or if anyone will, but this time he's being marketed, promoted, and sold as what I intended him to be: an amoral rascal perpetually surviving on single-minded selfishness, low cunning, and a hopefully-comic amount of dumb luck.  And The Duke of Uranium is his origin story, not the beginning of a YA franchise. 

Here's the new cover, which I think says all that very well:

And by contrast, here's the old cover, which said "Heinlein YA pastiche about a likeable young man with potential" in the way that only Howdy Doody in a high school band uniform can.

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Mainly of interest to collectors

I've given the newsletter subscribers* 90 days with the new catalog, so now it's everyone else's turn. 

For those of you who don't know but do care**, I sell signed first editions (and foreign editions and other editions as well) from my stock of author copies, and given that I don't go out to bookstore or convention events much anymore, this is probably your surest way to get a signed copy.  I'm actually out of many older and more obscure titles, so I may not be able to help, but it's worth a try if , say, you are having trouble completing a signed set of first editions of the Giraut books.

The catalog is just a reasonably cleanly formatted list of what I've got and what I charge to sign one and ship it to you, plus a few odd bits of memorabilia and other things that a fan might like but is just gathering dust with me. (Or would be if I didn't keep them in clean, tight storage boxes in a cool, dry storage space). 

I should add that although my prices are somewhere just a bit below  that of a new book (sometimes a bit higher or lower due to scarcity or abundance), if all you really want to do is read it, once you figure in shipping, it's almost always cheaper to just get a used one from any of the many fine places that sell them.

But ... if you're a collector ... and especially if you want a signed first, possibly a personalized signed first -- then use the email link and just tell me you'd like a catalogue.  And off it shall fly to you, for your perusal and my delight, for it contains instructions both for obtaining the books, and sending me money.

Next post up will be much less commercial ... sorry for the interruption of brief low commercialism in the high falutin' intellectuable*** tone hereabouts. I shall falute upwards again soon.


*Want to be one? I might send out another newsletter sometime, really! Just drop me a note and ask to be added to the mailing list.

**all other permutations are loved but I'm not talking to you right now.

***Why, yes, I did read Pogo obsessively when I was a child. How did you know?

Saturday, October 19, 2013

A riff in time with some silly lines

So I just had an idea for a blog post and thought, I could write that one in fifteen minutes, and that's about how much time I ever have nowadays, because dealing with a group of  accurately-said-to-be-difficult gifted and talented 9th and 10th graders is turning out to be a wee bit time consuming, and I'm in the middle-to-last stages of finishing a new mainstream YA novel, which I hasten to say is only as much like Madman Underground as any two books by me are like each other.  (Longtime fans just laughed, and thanks for the support, guys!)

Riffing rather than writing a footnote, the reason I hastened to say that bit about the current YA mainstream not being a sequel to Madman Underground  is that when a sometimes-reclusive writer makes a too-brief announcement, out in the blogosphere it tends to go like this:

Fred Ferd Dref, author of Space Duck (in personal blog or fan newsletter): I'm working on a new science fiction novel, and I'm getting close to done.

Over at, there follows:

Perfectly Reasonable Fan: Dref is writing a new novel!  Gee, I hope it's a sequel to Space Duck, because I loved Space Duck!

Another perfectly reasonable fan: I'm not sure whether  it was just that I was in the mood for Space Duck when I read it, or if it was that great cover it had by Duncan Deceased, my favorite sf artist ever. I wish he was still around!

(Snip, now, an enormous number of people talking about the Dref and Deceased oeuvres, with a bit of politics and some silly puns and occasional harmless pretensions and even more occasional genuine insights).

Then over at, we get:

ModeratelyGoofyFan1: Dref is working on sequel to Space Duck! I hope he doesn't screw it up because apparently it will have a posthumous cover by Duncan Deceased, and Deceased deserves better than that!

MGF2: You're crazy! Duncan Deceased should have been shot for that cover he put on Space Duck!  He totally drove people away from the finest novel since Les Miserables!

MGF3: I loved Les Mis.

MGF4: Your a dumshit nobody was talking about les mis we were talking about how Dref shot Duncan Deceased and stole his best cover for this stupid sequel to stupid  Space Duck. And anyway you should say Les Miserables because the book is Les Miserables and when you call the book by the nickname of the musical  it sounds all pretentious and theatre-person snob arrogant --

MGFn: And you're the kind of shithead that hated Space Duck, doesn't get that Duncan Deceased totally had it coming, and pronounces it all fake French like LAY MIZZER OBBLES!

You can all probably construct the chain of messages across many more blogs until somewhere out there in the LoudmouthCreepBlog, there's a proclamation that Space Duck contains a confession to the brutal murder of Duncan Deceased, and the sequel will be about how Dref feels sorry for himself because he's a socialist dick that voted for Obama and sucks up to women and that the next work will be titled I'm So Miserable and the publisher will bring it out anyway because big publishers only publish books by writers they have already published and it's just not fair.  Also at IAmTooAnInsiderSoThere, there will be a pre-review of I'm So Miserable declaring it to be a major advance far, far beyond Space Duck, and in fact the best novel of all time, which will show those jerky right wing military sf fans who just want to read trash, so there.

And there went my fifteen minutes.  So, as it turned out, it was all riff.  Maybe I'll write that first idea I had sometime later. Back to the YA book. 

No, it's not a sequel to Space Duck.