Two New Submissions

I queried Aurealis yesterday to see if they would accept my submission of From Little Things... (my latest short story which is really more of a novelette at 10,830 words) despite the fact that it was almost 3,000 words above their maximum wordcount. The ever-gracious Stuart Mayne replied today that yes, they would look at it. I'm stunned that Stuart didn't respond with: "And who the Hell are you, anyway? Begone, thou presumptuous unheard of wannabe writer upstart!" - not that he has ever spoken to me like that (he's always been very professional and kind, actually), but I just didn't expect an affirmative response. I'm quite excited; I'm very proud of From Little Things..., and I'm eager to see what the team at Aurealis (a zine I hold much admiration for) think of it. So, subbed it to them today. Really looking forward to the outcome, whatever it may be.

I also subbed Hidden in Plain Sight to AntipodeanSF. I've developed a deep fondness for AntiSF, and I'd be delighted to get another piece in there this year. Hidden in Plain Sight is my shortest story ever at 290 words, but I think it manages to pack quite a punch. We'll see if Ion (the editor) agrees!

And in further excellent news, we found somewhere to live in Melbourne! A lovely rental property in a rural setting, only 50 minutes by express train from the CBD (which, as anyone who has ever commuted in Melbourne knows, is a very respectable travel time). Whew! I genuinely believed we may be a homeless family of four, eating fleas picked from the lining of damp cardboard boxes in a gutter somewhere. This is a colossal weight off my mind. Thank you, universe! We can now relax slightly, and concentrate on getting ready for the move. Not to mention I can allow myself to feel happy and excited about it now!

Oh, and I won the first two books in the Monster Blood Tattoo trilogy by DM Cornish, in a competition run in AurealisXpress (a monthly e-newsletter for Aurealis subscribers).

So, all in all, feeling rather chuffed with the world at the moment. Now, if only I could write something worth half a damn...

Currently reading: This Charming Man by Marian Keyes (not even close to being spec fic, and a lot more chick lit than I would normally touch, but I love Marian Keyes; I mean, I really, really, really love her).

Review - Antipodean SF #120

Antipodean SF #120 can be read here - and register, if you haven't already! It's free, they don't spam you, and it gives you the power to vote for your favourite story each month. (And you'll need to be registered to vote for my story Windows to the Soul when it appears in #122 in July, hyuk, hyuk, hyuk...)

First of all, congratulations to David Such for scoring most popular story in issue #119 for his piece Tristesse (the name of which he very kindly explained to me in the comments section of my last AntiSF review) - nice work, and well deserved.

Without further ado, let us plunge into this month's grab bag of AntiSF goodies! (Please assume the usual spoilers warning.) There's a real apocalyptic feeling accompanying this issue - lots of total Earth destruction, be it as a result of meteors, aliens, earthquakes, tidal waves, etc.

Black Hollow by David Such

A man stands in a moonlit grove, his hands bound, encircled by chanting witches. Georgia watches, crouching in the grass, trying to think of a way to intervene. The Inquisitor enters with his athame, Jessica steps forward with a smile on her face, and the true nature of events is revealed.

I was all set to whinge about this story when I read the opening para (scary witches doing creepy shit), because the demonising of witches is one of my personal bugbears, even in horror fiction which, as fiction, doesn't necessarily have any obligation to steer close to the facts. But David managed to pull the story back from that - in fact, that particular sleight of hand was obviously his aim - and I was appeased. Thanks, David. (Cos, y'know, you did it just for me. Of course. Ahem.)

This is another well-written contribution by David Such, with some really superb imagery (I felt that damp long grass on my legs). I got a bit lost in some of the dialogue, and that's speaking as someone with more insight than most into witches and handfastings. But I still got the overall piece, loud and clear. I liked it. Once again David ranks up there among my favourites in this issue. And that's despite the whole witch-thing. ;o)

Pre-Emptive by Melanie Rees

The city - and perhaps, the reader suspects, the world - is decimated by hostile aliens. Our unnamed hero runs through the ruins, in search of his beloved. He finds her and pulls her from under the nose of two aliens, and watches as the river rises to meet the foreigners who wish to plunder it.

This is a snappy piece; it flows nicely and holds the reader. I was enthralled all the way. However, I found it to be a little too ambiguous. I felt it was trying to tell me something - who the aliens were, who their victims were, what it all meant - and I wasn't getting it. On my second reading I figured out what the river consisted of, which was clever (on the author's part, not mine); but I can't reconcile the title with the story, which bugs me a little. I liked it, but I would have liked a tidier revelation from the piece.

Wired for Sound by Christopher Elston (my vote for favourite piece this month)

Grandfather Jubal likes to sink into his wingback chair and enjoy loud melodies in surround sound. Those providing his music may not get quite so much pleasure from it, though.

I've just finished reading Laymon's Endless Night, and the unapologetically perverse nature of Wired for Sound reminded me of Laymon's work. I do love a good voyeuristic splash of horror that makes me feel like I need a shower afterwards. Nice twist upon the reader's initial perspective of Grandfather Jubal, too. Well executed (hyuk, hyuk, I made a bad pun). Enjoyable subject matter (for sickos like me). This one gets my vote for best story this issue.

Refugees by Susan Partridge

An earth quake and tidal wave strike Australia, and the survivors form a ragged procession to Western Australia.

I liked the way this piece shook up the average Australian's view of themselves as something "Other" than those who come from decimated lands to seek refuge in our country. I was drawn into the sad trek, and I contemplated life without the things I take for granted. A great achievement for such a short piece to provoke such thought. There were elements of real beauty in this story. Nicely done.

Global Consumables by Shaun A. Saunders

Megan is late for work. Tom has to meet with Mr. Harris, their manager, and he emerges from the meeting with bad news for Megan. Bad news for all humanity, really, since he and Megan are the last two humans in the workforce.

Saunders manages to pull off this tale with a combination of hopeless despair and wry humour, which I loved. A great piece of humanistic sci fi. I've enjoyed everything by Saunders that I've read so far - this one touched a nerve with me, as I am just about to return to my day job in a global financial services firm...

Apocalypse, Now There's a Good Idea by Daniel S.S. Santos

At the last meeting of Writers Against Unoriginality, a bold decision is made: wipe out the world as we know it, and create an era of fresh ideas in so doing.

Oh, I do so love a writer writing about writers. When it's done well, it makes me smile from ear to ear; and Santos did it well. I struggled over whether to vote for this piece or for Elston's this month. Santos's tale is slick and funny, and the last line made me laugh out loud in rueful empathy. Excellent work.

The Witches Hammer Voyages by Cheyenne Warlock

A strange Clipperman, a strange ship, a strange curio. (And, argh, witches again!)

Another tale that was a little too ambiguous for me. I tripped up on some of the language and descriptions and had to reread them a few times to decipher them, which fragmented the flow of the story. I think I figured it all out in the end. The Witches Hammer reminded me of the Flying Dutchman.

Lake by Paul Ryan

Calvin and Mike reminisce about their old teacher as they fish on the lake. At night. Whilst dumping something heavy in the water.

Ok, were they dumping Mr Edwards in the lake? Or was he a random discussion topic while they dumped someone else in? I couldn't decide, and it's bugging me.

Well written, flows nicely, feels authentic. A bleak little piece. The mention of pudgy hands made me feel uneasy without knowing why; I liked that.

Incomplete Information by Frank Roger

San Francisco is hit by a mammoth earth quake and tidal wave. Dubarry manages a last minute hot balloon escape, courtesy of Oswald. But he didn't think about landing...

A caveat about smugness, this is a gem. We're ok! We're free! We survived! Oh, wait...no, we didn't. I chuckled. The reader gets the impression that Dubarry deserved what he got.

The Astral Strike by David Price

A meteor reduces New York to rubble. But where did the meteor come from?

Anything that refers to facets of Christianity in a less than derisive satirical sense is never going to push my happy buttons, since I'm a hardcore atheist, and a very grumpy one at that. This story seems to be depicting the "scientists mystified by actions caused by the Christian God" scene, which rubs me the wrong way. That said, this was a neat little piece; can't fault the writing.

In the final E-Scapes, Sue Clennell reviews Matthew Pearl's The Poe Shadow. I really enjoy Sue's facts and trivia, relevant to the material she's writing about, at the beginning of each E-Scape. I'm a Poe fiend, so I was pleased to read about Pearl's book.

In Poetry, Jan Napier's Dalek provides a fix for the legion of Dr. Who buffs out there (I know it would have been lapped up!). A fun piece obviously tailored to diehard fans of the brand.

In Vide, Nuke reviews Alastair Reynolds's House of Suns. He describes Reynolds's work as hard sci fi, which puts it outside the realm of what I would normally hunt down and read. Hard sci fi makes my head ache and my eyes bleed. Nuke's enthusiasm for this book has stirred my curiousity, though. I'm now wondering if maybe I should give it a go. I do love sci fi that excites new possibilities in the mind of the reader, and it sounds like that is just what this book does.

Another great edition of this unique little zine. You know you're onto a good thing when your heart goes ping! when notification of the new issue arrives in your InBox.

*Insert Inarticulate Screeching Here*

I haven't written anything - not one word - in about a week. Yeah, you heard me, a week. I know! Terrible. I've wanted to, really, I have. But my brain is a fried lump of Spam rattling around in my aching skull right now due to, well, that annoying thing that exists outside of my writing - called Life.

We're moving back to Melbourne in mid June, and I'm going back to my fulltime career in insurance. My partner S will switch roles with me; he will be the stay-at-home parent while I work outside the home. We're both very excited (especially about escaping Hillbilly Hell, where we currently reside). There's just one slight drawback.

Nowhere to live.

We can't afford to buy (who the fuck can, that's what I want to know?!), so we'll be renting. And it seems that unless we have a spare $500 to blow on rent every week, the psychic ability to apply for rental properties before they even appear on the rental listings, and/or the urge to live in the Melbourne version of Sarajevo; there just ain't anywhere available. We've been looking, and inspecting (well, our friend in Melbourne has been inspecting on our behalf - thanks Alisha - we love you), and applying for two weeks now, and we've had nothing but a string of false starts, frustration, and dead ends. We've got three weeks to go until we're there, and I'm now in a pretty constant state of mildly debilitating panic at the very real prospect of my entire family sleeping in a cardboard box in a gutter somewhere.

We're a boringly normal, quiet, clean little family. I've got a good job. We've got a good rental history. And yet we might end up homeless.

So yeah...the writing has taken a little bit of a backseat.

I noticed ASIM's submission tracking page hadn't moved since 9th of April, so I sent them a query about my story Jesse's Gift, which I subbed a bit over a month ago. No reply as yet. They seem like a pretty prompt bunch usually so I'm guessing they're absolutely swamped. I just want to know if it's 'yay' or 'nay' (or 'shutupandholdthefuckonwillya') so I can submit this story I've been sitting on for a while that I'm very confident about. Time will tell...

Actually, several of my submissions are coming up to the time when I'd expect to get some rejections, er, I mean responses. Hopefully I'll still have internet access when I'm living in that box in the gutter, so I can check my emails.

I just finished re-reading Richard Laymon's Endless Night. I felt dirty afterwards. I love a book that can do that to me. Laymon's death was such a loss for the genre.

And the Rollercoaster Goes Back Up...

After the blows to my fragile writer's self esteem earlier this week, I was delighted to receive an email from Kirstyn McDermott at Midnight Echo (the magazine of the AHWA) telling me that my story, They Live Under the House, has been shortlisted for publication in the very first issue of the magazine. It's not an acceptance, but it's a maybe; it means I've been plucked from the murky depths of the slushpile and raised to the next level. And what's more, she said she enjoyed reading my story.

I am Jill's delirious joy.

Actually Kirstyn (a formidable writer herself) has been exceptionally kind to me; the formatting of my manuscript was a little dodgy in parts and in a separate email (prompted by a question I'd asked on the Southern Horror Yahoo list) she explained my errors to me and suggested how to do better in future. I'm really feeling the sense of community in the Aussie Spec Fic scene, thanks largely to the AHWA and the Southern Horror group. You just can't ask for better support and information.

Stephen Dedman even offered to sell me some US stamps for a hardcopy sub I need to send to the US. I would never have been able to network with the likes of Stephen if not for the AHWA and the Southern Horror group. Seriously. I've said it before, I'll say it again: if you're involved with speculative fiction, you need to join both these groups.

I've been browsing the blogs, websites and livejournals of other writers and I've realised that most of them are a lot more calm and matter-of-fact about their triumphs and their tribulations than I am. I envy their cool exteriors, but I'm afraid I don't think I'll ever be able to replicate that quality in myself. I'm a sentimental, expressive person, and when something gives me joy, I'm going to gush about it. Similarly, when something knocks me down, I'll tell you all about it (but I'll get back up; I promise). I know it's somewhat naff and not terribly cool to be so excitable...but I kinda like that about myself. I like retaining my childlike wonder and wringing every drop of pleasure out of the fulfilment (or even just the pursuit) of my dreams. Of course, I understand the need for professionalism in cover letters, interactions with Eds, etc - but this is my blog, and you have been warned: the tygers here are a bunch of emotional gits.

Two Rejections, One Maybe, and The Shining

Yesterday I received rejections for both of the stories I submitted to the Voices Anthology. I wasn't at all surprised - they were far from my best work, to say the least - but I was a little shocked by how much it stung, nonetheless. For about ten seconds I actually considered giving up writing altogether. You know the spiel - my work sucks, I'll never get published, I'm embarrassed at being knocked back, what's the point in pouring my heart and soul and hours of my life into churning out dross that will never see the light of day, etc. But I got over it remarkably fast. I did a bit of a Google on rejection and found lots of useful methods for coping, too, which will no doubt come in handy in future. The one thing that I really struggle with, though, is the cold dismissive abruptness (sometimes bordering on overt rudeness) that accompanies some rejections. I so appreciate Eds taking the time to attach a few personal comments to a rejection; constructive criticism is essential for self improvement, after all. But when it's just random directionless narkiness, or when the comment is so brief and cryptic that I have no idea what they're getting at, what's the point? Who does that help?

Annnnyway. I was very impressed with the professionalism of the Voices Eds; they acknowledged my subs immediately upon receiving them (I simply don't understand why all publications don't acknowledge receipt of subs; it doesn't have to take any time, you can configure an autoresponse if need be), and they advised me of the outcome within days of the call for subs ending. I'm looking forward to reading the antho when it's released (to see who beat me, bwahaha). It's a nice concept.

Then, because I was feeling particularly masochistic following my double whammy rejection, I decided to follow up Clarkesworld Magazine, as I'd subbed to them 53 days ago and their response time is 50 days. They emailed me back almost immediately after I queried, and I kicked myself for speeding up another rejection. But it wasn't a rejection - yet. They assured me that my story was in their queue, and they were a bit behind, but would get back to me soon. I like the story I submitted, and I like Clarkesworld, so...fingers crossed.

And in happier news, I followed Chris Elston's advice and sought out a copy of the Stephen King miniseries version of The Shining - and I scored a copy on eBay for a total of $10.50, including postage! I'm looking forward to seeing it, and comparing it to Kubrick's vision - though I am a bit of a Kubrick loyalist, so I might be less than impartial. Perhaps the two shouldn't be compared at all but just appreciated in their own right. I'll know how I feel once I've watched it, I guess!

I'm currently working on two shorts. One is the best thing I've ever written - in my humble opinion - and I'm tidying it up to sub to Weird Tales. The other is probably going to be a bit tricky to find a market for because of its somewhat grotty/taboo subject matter, but I like it, all the same. I've finished first drafts of both stories and let them sit for a while, and now I'm doing the final tinkering before sending them out into the big bad market to be torn to shreds and sent back to me in bloody pieces.

I need some chocolate. Chocolate always loves me. Mmmmmn, chocolate...

My Daughter is One Year Old Today...

...so I hope you'll humour me as I make a sentimental post (completely unrelated to writing) all about it.

I wrote up Layla's birth story for Bornfree! - Laura Shanley's Unassisted Childbirth just after she was born; you can view it here. I also wrote a short essay inspired by Layla's birth called I Am - you're welcome to check that out, too. Not to mention the double page spread her birth received in the Sunday Tasmanian ("Woman Births at Home - sen-sa-tion!" - no, seriously, the article was actually really great - thanks Timbo).

Layla's first name came to us about halfway through my pregnancy with her. Stephen and I were wandering Tahbilk Winery and we heard the Eric Clapton song of the same name (unplugged version, my favourite) piping softly into the room we were in. I had always loved the song and the name, and I asked Stephen (who is very fussy with names and had thus far pooh-poohed my every suggestion) what he thought of the name for our daughter. He liked it. She was Layla from that moment on. Her second name is my own second name, and it is also a derivative of my great grandmother's name (Bertha - I much prefer Beth - thanks for changing it when you gave it to me, mum!). Her third name is my (deceased but still adored) mother's second name, Ann-without-an-e.

This is what Layla looked like when she was born:-

And this is what she looks like now, at one year of age:-

Here's the cake I made her:-

She's so beautiful in every way. She's been a happy, contented, relaxed, intelligent, curious, radiant, and communicative little ray of sunshine since the day she came into our lives. She didn't sleep a lot when she was born (I remember whopping 48 hour boob-a-thons when she would be awake and breastfeeding nonstop until I disintegrated into a blubbering heap and Stephen had to take her for a drive around the block so I could have a powernap and then do it all over again) and she's still up two or three times a night now, but she is more than worth the sleeplessness. When she was very small and not yet moving around, we used to wrap her up in her bunnyrugs and let her have her day naps on the armchair in the loungeroom while we went about our business around her. She'd be out like a light, snug and warm next to the fire, we'd be close to her, and not even the hugest noise would wake her (and that's saying something, with her great galoot of a big brother rampaging around near her). In the evenings, when she was tired but still wanted to be near us, we'd do the same thing, and she's be snug on the armchair next to me, cheerfully chatting to the ceiling for hours on end until she drifted off to sleep. I have such fond memories of those times. She's always been so peaceful (but very assertive!) and calm. She's a very cuddly little girl - so different from her brother on that score, who is a cuddly preschooler now but was a rather aloof baby - and she loves nothing more than to be curled up in my lap, snuggling with me. She has always had the craziest spikey blonde hair; people have pulled me over in the supermarket to admire my daughter's "punky" hairdo. She loves her big brother and adores playing with him. She has brought us to a higher level of joy with every day she's been with us, and I love her so much.

Our darling little Layla Beth Ann - happy first birthday, sunshine.

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy,

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry,

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely,

Sunshine almost always makes me high.

If I had a day that I could give you,

I'd give to you a day just like today.

If I had a song that I could sing for you,

I'd sing a song to make you feel this way.

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy,

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry,

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely,

Sunshine almost always makes me high.

If I had a tale that I could tell you,

I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile.

If I had a wish that I could wish for you,

I'd make a wish for sunshine all the while.

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy,

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry,

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely,

Sunshine almost always makes me high.

Sunshine almost all the times makes me high.

Sunshine almost always...

What I'm Actually Doing at the Moment

So I thought I should do a little update on where I'm at with my work right now.

Currently out to market:-

• Charlie, short story, AHWA comp
• Misogyny, flash fiction, AHWA comp
• The Best Policy, short story, Aurealis
• The Ten Second Rule, short story, Clarkesworld Magazine
• Vacancy and The Corner Suite, short stories, Voices Anthology
• Hidden in Plain Sight, flash fiction, Weird Tales
• Dirty Paper Wings, short story, Borderlands
• Jesse's Gift, short story, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine
• Dirty Words, essay, Eureka Street/Reader's Feast Comp

Acceptances:-

• Windows to the Soul, flash fiction, scheduled to appear in Antipodean SF #122 in July 2008

Rejections:-

• Top of the Food Chain, flash fiction, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine

Acceptance ratio: 50%

And what am I writing right now? Well, I'm at the business end of what is possibly the best piece I've written, but I'm struggling with the climax, so it's taking me a loooooong time to finish. It's also the longest piece I've written so I'm not sure what market I'll submit it to, but I'll figure that out later - I have to actually complete it first.

I've also got three or four other shorts that I've written at a feverish pace and now am letting sit for a while before doing the rewrites and deciding if I want to send them out to market (to market, to buy a fat hen). I like them. I think once I've polished them I will send them out to be slaughtered.

I have had a couple of days where I haven't written lately (sacrilege!), and I've been feeling a bit morose about that - thinking I am slack, that inspiration and output will magically disappear entirely if I don't write every day, that I'm not achieving anything, blaaaaaaah. This post has reminded me of just how much work I've done in three months. And, considering the fact that before that three month period of activity, I hadn't done any serious writing in years...well, I think I'm doing pretty damn well.

Currently reading: Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist