Monthly Archives: April 2014

Part of a Thing I Love: “Kaleidoscope”

image courtesy of Ashley Dace

image courtesy of Ashley Dace

Let’s have some nice things. Let’s have some nice “classic” SF, in fact.

Ray Bradbury is one of those writers who first made me want to write. The Illustrated Man blew my mind at a very young age. “The Smile”. “The Veldt” (which utterly terrified me; Bradbury was as good a writer of horror as he was science fiction). “A Sound of Thunder”. And then The Martian Chronicles, which changed the way I thought about SF and what it could do. “There Will Come Soft Rains” remains one of the most wrenchingly, unbearably sad and yet beautiful things I’ve ever read, and probably one of my favorite short stories of all time. It’s a perfect story. I literally can’t think of anything wrong with it. And I still can’t read it without crying.

Bradbury’s work is gentle, even when it’s also cruel. It’s frequently elegiac, even when it’s not overtly sad. It’s beautiful, even when he’s writing about ugly things. He has his weaknessness, and like many authors writing when he was, his stuff deals uncomfortably with race and gender, but I think there’s a humility to how he approaches things that’s missing from a lot of his contemporaries. He was profoundly skeptical of technology, of people, of the future, and yet he wrote about humanity with tremendous affection. He wanted good things for the world. He believed that we could do well.

His short story “Kaleidoscope” is among my favorites of his stuff. It’s one of those that’s quietly, gently cruel, but also deeply reflective. It’s meditation on death and what we make of it. It ended up unconsciously – at the time I was writing it – inspiring a story of mine (“What Glistens Back”) that will appear in Lightspeed at some point soon, a story I’ve been trying to write for the better part of a year and finally found a way to tell.

What Bradbury is saying, what he says in most of his stuff, is that horror and pain and beauty and love aren’t all that different in the end, that they’re ultimately not comprehensible without each other, and that – in extremis – all we have is each other.

The many good-bys. The short farewells. And now the great loose brain was disintegrating. The components of the brain which had worked so beautifully and efficiently in the skull case of the rocket ship firing through space were dying one by one; the meaning of their life together was falling apart. And as a body dies when the brain ceases functioning, so the spirit of the ship and their long time together and what they meant to one another was dying. Applegate was now no more than a finger blown from the parent body, no longer to be despised and worked against. The brain was exploded, and the senseless, useless fragments of it were far scattered. The voices faded and now all of space was silent. Hollis was alone, falling.

They were all alone. Their voices had died like echoes of the words of God spoken and vibrating in the starred deep. There went the captain to the Moon; there Stone with the meteor swarm; there Stimson; there Applegate toward Pluto; there Smith and Turner and Underwood and all the rest, the shards of the kaleidoscope that had formed a thinking pattern for so long, hurled apart.

And I? thought Hollis. What can I do? Is there anything I can do now to make up for a terrible and empty life? If only I could do one good thing to make up for the meanness I collected all these years and didn’t even know was in me! But there’s no one here but myself, and how can you do good all alone? You can’t. Tomorrow night I’ll hit Earth’s atmosphere.

I’ll burn, he thought, and be scattered in ashes all over the continental lands. I’ll be put to use. Just a little bit, but ashes are ashes and they’ll add to the land.

He fell swiftly, like a bullet, like a pebble, like an iron weight, objective, objective all of the time now, not sad or happy or anything, but only wishing he could do a good thing now that everything was gone, a good thing for just himself to know about.

When I hit the atmosphere, I’ll burn like a meteor.

“I wonder,” he said, “if anyone’ll see me?”

~

The small boy on the country road looked up and screamed. “Look, Mom, look! A falling star!”

The blazing white star fell down the sky of dusk in Illinois. “Make a wish,” said his mother. “Make a wish.”

The politics have always been there. You just refuse to see them.

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gpoy

Okay.

I was honestly going to stay out of the whole Hugo Thing, in part because almost everyone else I know in the community has articulated exactly my feelings about it better than I could because my articulation of my feelings is BLAARGHARARRAGGHHHH, and partly because I’m just fucking tired of this whole business, which is also why BLAARGHARARGHAAARGHHAAAH. But then there was this putrid thing in USA Today (donotlinkified courtesy of Natalie Luhrs) and it just kind of broke the entire camel for me.

I’m going to say this very, very clearly, in bold, because I feel like it can’t be emphasized enough:

Science fiction and fantasy is political and has always been political.

In fact, you know what?

Writing is political and has always been political.

In fact, wait.

Stories of all kinds everywhere at every point in human history are political and have always been political.

Storytelling is a political act. It’s making sense of the world and ourselves, and like every other kind of sense-making, it’s as political as it is personal and vice-versa. There is no distinction to be made between the political and the personal. Writing of any kind is political. It’s claimsmaking regarding reality and how to interpret it. Because whenever we’re faced with these things, we’re faced with fundamental truths regarding how creation makes and unmakes the world, regarding whose voices are amplified and whose are lost, between who gets to speak and who is literally silenced. Yes, the Hugos are just one award, and you can argue all you like about how much they actually mean in the long run. But this isn’t even about the Hugos. This is about everything, about every fucking time we have this conversation.

I don’t know where this whole “politics doesn’t belong in [insert genre and mode of creative output here]” came from but I have some ideas and regardless I want it to die in flames.

If you can read something “on its own merits” and judge it accordingly, entirely separate from its misogynist white supremacist author, bully for you, but please take a look at who you are and why you can say that. Because you’re in a position where, I would imagine, you haven’t been swimming in cultural toxic waste for your entire life, where you’re subject to millions of constant microaggressions that batter at your heart like tiny hammers until you’re sore and bleeding and have to build up scar tissue like armor, where the world of imagination that has provided a refuge for you in hard times and even moments of great liberation all too often feels like hostile territory full of enemies who at best don’t even see you as a human being, and who otherwise want to do you actual literal harm.

If you can judge something on its merits, if you can say that you want politics kept out of something, then you do not see and are refusing to imagine the experiences of people who are having the politics of this thing – the endless, violent, hateful politics – stomped into their faces forever.

So enjoy your fucking Hugo ballot, I guess.

Like wheat that springeth green

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Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope. Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we are saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love.

– Reinhold Niebuhr

I don’t know how comfortable I am calling myself a Christian anymore. That’s less to do with me than with other Christians – though I think we might, rather than running away from the word, be better served by taking back from the people who have been doing reprehensible things with it for so long – but it’s also me. I don’t really go to church anymore. I don’t even pray all that often. I like prayer, I like the idea of prayer, and I enjoy it when I do it. But I’ve lost the habit. I’ve lost a lot of things. I think I am, as Anne Lamott has put it, a “Jesusy Person” – down with the man himself, in love with a lot of the theology, and – even if continuously full of doubt – at least trying to live as if the major points are true, because you know what, I need to. But troubled by the rest of it, by the part of it that can be properly called the kingdom of this world, and separated from it as a result.

But regardless of what I am or am not comfortable calling myself or thinking of myself as, today leading into this weekend is major. Christmas gets all the attention, but this, right here, this is the big three-day thing. This is what it all comes down to. This is what we’ve all been gearing up for, and more, this is where we begin to understand what kind of story we’re in. Christmas gives us a glimpse of that, and regardless of whether or not you believe in any element of Christianity, it’s still a pretty amazing story: a special, holy thing comes into being in the most unlikely place, to the most unlikely people. A teenage mother, a confused father, a bunch of outcast drunks, some animals, and a terrifying chorus line of angels. That’s the first hint of what kind of (profoundly weird) story this is.

There are a lot of other hints along the way. Jesus is continuously dropping them. Some of them are a lot more than hints – some of them are him trying to get his tremendously clueless disciples to just get it already. Okay, he says, and I can almost see him rolling his eyes. Okay, so that didn’t work. How about you look at it this way…No? Still? Man, this is gonna be a long couple years.

But then we get to tonight, and the story seems like it’s headed for the worst possible ending. The hero is dying, in one of the most agonizing and most shameful ways imaginable. His friends have abandoned him to their own terror and stupidity. Love is losing and power is winning. Justice seems like a bad joke, and hope like the pointless dream of a hopeless fool.

Fred Clark observes the poignant fact that the story of the crucifixion and its aftermath is basically the story of the world so far. We’re in the middle of that, that awful moment. We’re stuck in a perpetual Saturday, with the wretchedness of Friday all around us, and little hope of anything better to come:

And to be honest, it doesn’t seem terribly likely, because Saturday, this Saturday, is all we’ve ever known. Yesterday was this same Saturday, and so was the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that.

Why should we expect that tomorrow will be any different?

Seriously, just look around. Does it look like the meek are inheriting the earth? Does it look like those who hunger and thirst for justice are being filled? Does it look like the merciful are being shown mercy?

Jesus was meek and merciful and hungry for justice and look where that got him. They killed him. We killed him. Power won.

That’s what this everyday Saturday shows us — power always wins. “If you want a picture of the future,” George Orwell wrote, “imagine a boot stomping on a human face — forever.”

But I want to believe in Sunday.

I think what this too often means for some is that all we have to do is wait – the big Whoever has it all taken care of, so we can sit back and just be here when Sunday comes. (In the meantime, let’s make sure we say the right nasty things about all the bad people, because if they’re hanging around when Sunday comes… hoo, boy.)

But Christ never says that. He says the exact opposite. Christ promises justice, mercy, the death of power and the eternal reign of love, but he never, ever gives people that kind of out. Waiting isn’t enough. Sitting on your hands and pretending to be better than everyone else because you think and say the right things makes you a whitewashed tomb. You want justice? Fight injustice. You want freedom? See the captives freed. You want mercy? Be merciful. You want love? Love. Sunday comes when you work for it, when you do. The doing matters. First that. Then Sunday. Get through Saturday as best you can. But above all, keep moving.

But what am I feeling on Saturday?

A while ago, I wrote about anger, about writing in anger, about writing in a state of ugly rage. I wrote about finding the poison inside yourself and letting it out into your words, about using it to tell all the truths you’ve ever been told to hide. About how, when your heart is a volcano and these things are burning through your skin, to let them out and make them a light. Because I also wrote about courage, and I wrote about hope, because without those two, rage is just rage.

And ultimately, on its own, rage can’t save us.

I can’t speak for anyone else, and I wouldn’t try to. I’m just wise enough now to know that there is no one best way for everyone, no single right path to walk. But when I’m here in my Saturday, and I’m hurt, angry, frightened, and full of despair, this is the story I come back to. It may be true. It might not be. What I do know is there are things in it that can save me, because rage isn’t all there is, because hope is waiting there at the end of it if I have the courage to find it. Everything seems lost a lot of the time. Everything seems pointless. Everything seems like a bad joke, and I don’t like the kind of story it seems like this is.

But we can’t really know what kind of story we’re in until it ends.

And but so, this is why we hope for Sunday and why we live for the hope of Sunday. Even though we can’t know for sure that Sunday will ever come and even if Saturday is all we ever get to see.

Once again.

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It doesn’t matter how many times we say this or how clear we make it. I give it a month on the outside before someone else in the SF&F community completely fails to get it in the most public of fashions.

(The hover text is worth clicking through to see, btw.)

 

A few – though by no means the only – ways of getting your book published

courtesy of Sean MacEntee

courtesy of Sean MacEntee

Given that I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, not just in the context of all the (probably tiresome) fandom-related yelling I’ve been doing, I decided that I’d go ahead and toss this up there. I was also having drinks with some dear friends (who are not writers) recently, and they were congratulating me on books, which was lovely, but it struck me again that they didn’t seem to totally understand a) how little money you can actually make in this business, and b) how incredibly labor-intensive building up a backlist is, and how having four or five novels out there almost never means you can quit your day job. Or how you get four or five novels out there to begin with.

I’ve seen a lot of misconceptions. I’ve seen a lot of people – talented writers, to be sure – who seem to think that basically all you need to do to get published is write a great book and wait for people to come to your door and ask to pay you for it. I’ve seen talented writers stumble or get hurt because they didn’t know the lay of the land before they charged enthusiastically into it. I’ve seen talented writers just pretty much never go anywhere at all. Talent is not enough, and alone it’s not a guarantee of anything. It would be great if it was, but it ain’t.

So here, at least, is my experience and my understanding of the process. It’s not comprehensive, it’s not what will work for everyone, and it’s not representative of everyone’s experience. I’m also not by any means the first person to say any of this. Regardless, here are some things that you might or will need to do if you want to sell a book.

  • Finish it. Seriously. There are situations where a proposed book or a half-finished book gets picked up, but on the whole your chances are made immeasurably better if you have a completed manuscript in hand.
  • Edit it. Having a completed book helps. It helps less if it is, shall we say, rough around the edges.
  • Decide what you want to do with it. Because there are a number of things you can do. Do you want to self-publish? Do you want to send it directly to publishers? Large or small press? Do you want to query agents with it? All of these will require different things from you and you need a plan. Regardless of which route you go – with the exception of self-publishing – I would personally create and compile this packet of submission materials early in the process and keep it on hand:
    • A synopsis (publishers/agents differ on length but the general standard is two to three pages)
    • A query letter (in my opinion, every query you send should be somewhat personalized, but the basic content – one-paragraph pitch, bio, etc. will be pretty much the same every time)
    • A sample of the first three chapters of the manuscript (three chapters or fifty pages is often what’s asked for).
  • Research. You need to know your industry. If you’re self-publishing, figure out what you need to do in order to get your book in the shape you want before you put it out there (editing, cover art, etc.) and how to maximize the effectiveness of your promotion. If you’re submitting directly to publishers, large or small, familiarize yourself with who wants what. If you’re querying agents, learn who the good ones are. Make lists of likely candidates. Read the submission guidelines. Then read them again. Then again, just to make absolutely sure you didn’t overlook anything. Don’t waste these people’s time – they are already very, very busy and it makes them grumpy. And make sure you know what your rights as an author are, what industry standard contracts tend to look like, and what to watch for in terms of not getting screwed over. Because yes, there are people out there looking to screw you over.
  • If you’re going the non-self-pub route, submit/query. You have to do this. Yes, a tiny percentage of people skip this step and get offered contracts without looking for them for whatever reason. The chances that you are one of those people are vanishingly small. If you want publishers or agents to take notice of you, you need to put yourself in their faces. If they don’t notice you, that is almost certainly on you, not them.
  • You will get rejected. Submit/query again. Then do it again. Don’t take it personally, because it’s almost never personal. This is a business. Agents will represent books that they think they can sell; they reject books that they love but don’t think they can sell all the time. Same goes for publishers. A manuscript that isn’t right for one might be right for another. This is why I said to make lists, and I generally recommend beginning at the top and working down, because you’re starting at zero and you have nothing to lose. Just, again: you’ll get rejected. It hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot. I know, my work has been rejected literally hundreds of times. Many of those stories went on to find homes elsewhere. Suck it up and keep moving.
  • Don’t lock yourself into one way of doing things. There isn’t only one way. Authors who have agents and contracts with publishers also self-publish on the side. Authors who start in self-publishing move on to have agents and contracts with publishers. Authors move from small to large presses and back again simultaneously. Authors sell books without agents. Authors get agents right away and never sell anything without one. Authors change agents. Authors change publishers. Authors publish books with more than one publisher. Authors publish with one publisher for the entirety of their careers. Just because you’re doing one thing now doesn’t mean you will or should continue to do it, or to do it exclusively. What you do will be as individual as you are and no one thing will work best for you all the time. Be flexible; in professional writing, flexibility is survival.

Here are some resources that I’ve found invaluable:

And if you are or are becoming a neo-pro speculative fiction writer (someone who’s sold one or more short stories/novels to reasonably respectable markets and is in the early stages of their career), join Codex, which is a writer’s group. It’s probably been the single most useful thing, career-wise, that I’ve ever done.

So go to it. Just make sure you know what you’re doing. You’ll thank yourself when you’re sitting on a pile of money later.

One more thing about publishing and fandom in general

Because I think it’s important, and it actually has only a limited amount to do with Interlude Press specifically. This is a point that’s far more general, and it’s been bugging me for a while.

Yesterday I listed some of my initial concerns about a fandom-focused publisher, but it wasn’t until I was getting in bed last night that I realized what really troubled me about this whole thing. It’s very small, it’s not the most extreme instance of it that I’ve ever seen, but it’s there and I want to mention it specifically.

In their intro and in their FAQ both, Interlude mentions a particular justification (or rather two related but slightly conflicting justifications) for why they exist:

We believe, deeply, that authors exist in the fan world who deserve a chance to be published. These are authors who might otherwise be ignored by the traditional publishing industry, and who would likely be discouraged from acknowledging their fan fiction roots and receive little marketing support were they ever to sign a contract with a big name publishing house.

Unlike publishers who have recently begun to “recruit” authors of fan fiction, only to discourage them from acknowledging their roots, Interlude Press was developed to honor both the creators of fan works as well as the gift culture they represent.

I just.

Okay, look. One of the things I often have to work especially hard to get my Sociology intro students to understand is that an n of you is not a representative sample of the population, and while your anecdote can serve as a datapoint, it’s by no means one upon which you should lean very heavily. That said: I’ve been active in various fandoms way longer than I’ve been getting paid to tell stories. My fandom identity and my writer identity enjoy a very slim separation, if any at all. I still write fic, and I’m very open about it. I’ve sold five novels, two novellas, and somewhere between 40 and 50 short stories. I’m a member of SFWA at the Active level. I’m very comfortable calling myself a professional writer.

Never in my own experience have I found my fandom affiliations  to be harmful or to block my way, nor has anyone else I know, at least not my knowledge. I’ve heard of publishers “recruiting” from fandom, though I don’t think that word really accurately describes those situations, and as far as I know it still happens rarely enough to be the exception rather than the rule, and if being “ignored” equates to not being “recruited” and that’s the problem at hand, guess what: would that being “recruited” happened to any of us. And there is an increasingly long list of successful authors who write original stuff and are very, very open about where they come from, as well as continuing to be active.

I’m not saying fandom getting in the way doesn’t happen. I’m saying that if it was a common thing, a trend that generally held true, I have to think I would have noticed by now.

This is not the first time I’ve seen a publishing house say something like this, and it’s never good when one does. They may very well be sincere in what they’re saying, but as far as my knowledge goes they’re also sincerely wrong, and this is not the first time I’ve run into this kind of misinformation being slung around regarding what’s involved in actually selling your book. It’s that misinformation that I want to focus on now.

People say “you need the right connections.” They say “you need the right profile.” And people also say that if you’re active in fandom, the mean prejudicial gatekeepers will lock you out, unless you write the next Fifty Shades, in which case come on in, but pretend it wasn’t fic before or something. Interlude is – though their language is not particularly strong – implying this, that the authors they’re working with would be largely unable to sell books elsewhere, despite their talent, because fandom.

People, I have some hard truth for you. If you’re in fandom and you’re shopping around a book, trying to break into the business, and people keep shutting doors on you, it’s not that you don’t have the right connections, it’s not that there’s some super secret publishing code word that you’re missing, and it’s almost certainly not that you’re in fandom. It’s that they don’t want what you’re selling.

I need to emphasize this: There is no big secret to getting published. There is no shadowy cabal of industry gatekeepers locking out the undesirables. If you want to become a professional writer, write good stories and submit them. If you write a great book, fandom will not hold you back. If you write a bad book – or at least, a book that publishers don’t think they can sell – no power in the ‘verse will help you. You also need to be clear on what sector of the industry you’re willing to count as “breaking in”; if you’re content with small presses, there are so damn many options that, if what you have is good, you can often find a publisher relatively quickly (say within a year or so). If you want to get picked up by one of the big NYC houses, guess what: It’s fucking hard for everyone.

You do not need one specific boutique publisher to realize your dream, and if that boutique publisher is suggesting that they’re one of the very few – if not the only – avenues that talented fandom authors have to professional publication, I would be highly skeptical of that claim.

I’m not suggesting that Interlude is lying. I am suggesting that they’re misrepresenting how publishing works. I’m not saying they’re doing that intentionally, but in my opinion that’s what they’re doing.

I realize that at this point it might seem like I’m going on and on about something that really isn’t a big deal, but Interlude represents something that I think we’ll be seeing more and more of, and even where fandom isn’t concerned, I’ve seen these claims floating around, and I don’t like it when authors buy into them, because all too often it results in them getting screwed over, by themselves or someone else or a combination of the two.

If you want to work with a publisher that’s specifically fandom-friendly, it sounds like Interlude might be a great fit for you, so I’d say follow your bliss, man (though I would seriously hold off to see if they’re for real). But if you’re convinced that you’ll never get published elsewhere because of fandom stigma or whatever and therefore have no other good options… Basically don’t think that way because by and large it just ain’t true.

The secret to getting published is to write a good book and submit it. That’s all. It’s not rocket magic. So do it however you want, but do not ever buy into the idea that there’s only one way.

More about Interlude Press: I have some (very preliminary) concerns

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Okay, as promised earlier, here are my general initial concerns about the concept behind Interlude Press. Because yes, I do have some. They’re just mine, and they may be and in fact probably are poorly informed – because, as I said, we just don’t know a whole lot for sure right now – but here they are.

  • If this is – in part – an attempt to de-stigmatize fanfiction in mainstream circles, I’m not sure it will work. I actually think it might be counterproductive. The thing is that, as it seems to me, part of the stigma associated with fic in non-fic circles comes down to the idea that it’s done by people who can’t be bothered to think up their own stuff, who are imaginatively lazy, and when things like Fifty Shades and The Mortal Instruments happen, part of the scoffing from certain circles amounts to well what do you expect, they had to pull-to-publish/be highly derivative because they couldn’t think of anything original. You know and I know that that’s total bullshit, but it’s still floating around, and I perceive a distinct possibility that Interlude – to the degree that anyone outside fandom will know or care about it – will not assist in erasing that misconception. I perceive a distinct possibility that it will only reinforce it. And yeah, okay, why should we give a fuck what ignorant fools think about our sandbox, but if this stigma does bother you, I don’t know that Interlude will do much to help make it go away. What will help de-stigmatize fanfiction? Authors of fully original works who also write fic/cut their teeth on fic being very open about it. That’s why I try to do so.
  • I’m troubled by the idea of exploiting an existing fandom audience. Let’s be clear on something from the get-go: “exploitation” isn’t necessarily a bad or a negative or an evil thing. It’s seeing an opportunity for gain and jumping on it. We all do it, to some degree. Interlude seems to view this as a good platform, and they’re also very explicit about respecting the fandom gift economy. I don’t think they’re evil conniving capitalists or anything. I also recognize that there is probably a large contingent of fic readers who would jump at the chance to financially support their favorite authors, and that’s great. But I also think I have to point out that one of the major components of the anger in the Twilight fandom over Fifty Shades was that James was seen to be making use of a good faith fandom gift economy audience for her own personal gain. I am not saying that that’s what would be happening here, just that I think this has the potential to piss people off and create issues for the publisher, among a lot of other things. I’m sure they’re smart people and they’re aware of that, it’s just something that I see with potential for wank. And I’m also just kind of uncomfortable with it for a number of poorly articulated reasons.
  • Crossover between fandom and non-fandom readers is problematic. Again, I’m sure that there will be a lot of fandom readers who would love to be able to support their authors in this way. But I’m not so sure about non-fandom readers. A while ago, it came out that it at least appeared that a relatively well-known name in M/M romance had essentially filed the serial numbers off their Supernatural AU and published it as original stuff. Now, whether or not you think this was okay, it made a number of readers very vocally angry – they felt cheated and insulted. Additionally, there are certain publishers in M/M romance that have dealt with a fair amount of stigma regarding the amount of reworked fic they publish, to the point where some large review sites simply refuse to touch their stuff. While I may very well not be giving them enough credit, I think there’s a sizable contingent who will be actively turned off by this kind of product. Again, why care what ignorant jerks think? Because if you’re a publisher, especially a new publisher, you need money and you need people to buy your books. I just don’t entirely believe that a publisher can survive on fandom alone, though it would be cool if I was wrong (remember Kindle Worlds? Yeah.). And I don’t see a whole lot of crossover readership happening here, though again, could be totally wrong. Yes, Interlude could establish a track record of truly stellar work and change minds that way, but that would take time, and again, that first year or so is crucial in terms of determining whether or not a publisher will stick around. So this could be trouble in a number of ways for a number of people.
  • Copyright. I’m sure this is a concern on people’s minds besides mine, and I’m sure Interlude is in touch with some good legal council. They’re very clear about avoiding problems here. I’m just… I can see it potentially creating issues. Fifty Shades got away with it, but Fifty Shades was a bit of a different situation in a number of ways, and all it takes is one person/entity who’s enough of a jerk to make it a Thing, especially given that Interlude is a new kid on the block and a little kid to boot, and therefore easy to stomp on and thereby make an example of. I’m not saying that I think this is likely or would be successful if it happened, and again, I’m not suggesting that it hasn’t occurred to Interlude, just that it’s yet another thing that makes me leery of the whole situation.

Those are just a few of the concerns that I can articulate right now – I have more and I might talk about them. I really, really don’t want to come across as hoping that Interlude will fail, because I don’t, though I’ll admit to having a lot of gut-level problems with it. But I’m seeing a lot of rapturous enthusiasm on Tumblr, among other places, and it’s like… Guys, hold off on that. Don’t be down on it, necessarily, but maybe be a tiny bit more cautious, because I think we could be treading into a bit of a minefield. There is so much that we don’t yet know and can’t yet know about how this will all shake out. Regular new publishers run into massive issues, and Interlude is potentially facing an entirely different set in addition to those. I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, just realistic.

And I’ll admit to being a bit worried about what this will mean for fandom as a whole. Which, again: so gut-level that I don’t really want to go there. I don’t want to talk about stuff that I can’t make at least something approaching a rational argument for.

So again, we’ll see what we see this summer.