I’m super excited about this lineup, lemmetellya. Plus, the panel on shipping? Yeah, thanks to my experience of TWD fandom, I’m gonna have some feelings to express there.
I’ll also have copies of my short fiction collection, and both Labyrinthian and Long Hidden, both of which are now sadly out of print. But you can snap ’em up there direct from me.
I’ve posted this in a few other places, but here, take a gander at the cover art for “Shape Without Form, Shade Without Color”, coming at the end of this month from Tor.com:
This is one of those stories that’s incredibly personal in some ways – I’ve never been assaulted by evil starlings, but I wrote it during a very difficult period in my life, and it was an attempt to work some of that baggage out on paper.
Not that the same isn’t true of most of my stuff.
Anyway, watch for that on the 31st. And watch for “eyes I dare not meet in dreams”, also at Tor.com, on June 14th.
OKAY LISTEN UP FOLKS
A few years back, I was massively honored to have a story of mine included in an anthology called Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History. It’s an absolutely beautiful book, and it includes stories from people like Sofia Samatar, Sarah Pinsker, Nnedi Okorafor, Ken Liu, Tananarive Due, and Lisa Bolekaja. It’s so good.
It’s also going out of print on May 9th. Which is so damn sad.
BUT. You still have a chance to pick up a copy. I highly suggest that you do. You want this book in your life. It will make your life better. If you already own it, buy a copy for a friend. Don’t wait. Get it before it’s gone because after this there won’t be no more. Any copy of Long Hidden and/or its sequel Hidden Youth purchased from the publisher will be 15% off, 25% if purchased together, with free US shipping (offer includes ebooks).
IN ADDITION 50% of net proceeds from ANY sales of Long Hidden or Hidden Youth (including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.) will be donated to We Need Diverse Books (http://weneeddiversebooks.org). Which is awesome. So you have every reason to treat yourself to it.
And please do what you can to boost the signal. Thanks so much.
As I said in the post previous to this one, there frankly wasn’t a lot. But there was some. Here it is.
I’m happy to provide copies of stuff to voters. Just let me know.
I’m really happy that I was able to take part in this month-long extravaganza celebrating one of my very favorite writers – and also someone who’s become a friend and a major emotional support during some difficult times. I frankly don’t think she gets nearly as much recognition as she deserves, so this is quite simply great.
When I decided I wanted to spotlight a particular story, initially I had no idea at all which to pick; there are a lot (lookit). But one popped into my head a few minutes later, a particular one that’s stayed with me because it’s quite simply one of the most evocatively strange things I’ve ever read.
I’m talking about “New Feet Within My Garden Go”, which was originally published in Innsmouth Press’s anthology Fungi and was reprinted in the August 2015 issue of Apex Magazine. I shared that particular ToC, which is how I stumbled on it. And I read it and I was like.
(in a good way)
So once again it’s been a while. THINGS. Things happening. Including a new job – and being a sociologist TAing for a law class is interesting, let me tell you.
Anyway, something else I’ve been doing a lot lately is listening to podcasts. They’re honestly a lot of what’s helping me hold my shit together. I threw a list of recommendations together for my Tumblr blog, and I think it makes sense to post it here as well.
Without further ado (broken into the three primary genres I’m currently into):
Ohhhhhhh my God it’s been A Month.
News is piling up and I’ll try to convey some of it soon. For now, want to note that my short story “A Heap of Broken Images” is reprinted in this month’s issue of Clarkesworld, which is neat because a) Clarkesworld, and b) it’s one of my faves of my own stuff.
I do not know if this is dishonor or a fulfilling of my raising. I am pulled between what I have been taught and what I have been taught; again I think I could fall to pieces, and then I think that maybe I have always been in pieces, broken apart from myself, and so there is no more damage to be done.
I look into the flowing black water and I think of empty eyes and outstretched hands reaching up from those depths and beckoning me. There were many bodies that were swept away by the river in the growing-season flood that year and many were never found. They are all still there in the life of the river. There are other people strolling, idling along the bank in the cool of the evening; I could call, Don’t you see them? Don’t you hear? How can we deny our own spilled blood, whatever price has been paid?
My mouth is full of ghosts. I place my hand against it and hold them in until they are silent again, and the ones in the water fall silent as well.
I am in pieces but I am alive. Tell me how this is a reasonable thing.
I wrote it after thinking a lot about genocide and guilt and memory. I don’t recall exactly why I was thinking so much about those things, but I know that’s where the story came from.
By the way, fun fact that’s also possibly useful: This story got a bunch of rejections (including Clarkesworld, actually) until a slightly tweaked version of it ended up in We See a Different Frontier. After which it ended up in The Year’s Best Science Fiction 31.
So don’t give up on stories, basically. At least some of the time.