I’m very pleased to announce that “Saturn in G Minor”–which won the Writers of the Future Grand Prize–has been selected for inclusion in Tesseracts Sixteen: Parnassus Unbound, due out this September from EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing. The Tesseracts series is the storied annual anthology of Canadian speculative fiction, and I’m thrilled to be making my second appearance in the series (my story “Citius, Altius, Fortius” was published in Tesseracts Eleven)

The theme for Tesseracts Sixteen: Parnassus Unbound is speculative fiction inspired by literature, music, art and culture. The collection is subtitled for Mount Parnassus, which in Greek mythology was a mountain sacred to Apollo–god of music and poetry–and the home to the Muses. Consequently, Parnassus became known as the home of poetry, music, and learning.

And get this! I’m in the collection with not only Robert J. Sawyer and Kevin J. Anderson–both friends and mentors–but with Neil Peart! Yeah–the drummer from Rush. THAT Neil Peart! How cool is that!?! And not only do I love the cover, but it gives it added significance–it looks like a prog rock album cover!

This is going to be a fun anthology to be part of! 

I’m sure there will be signings and events to launch the book later this year–watch here for updates!

– S. 

Did you know that the Earth was up to 10C (18F) warmer in the Mesozoic Era? Well, scientists do. And some enterprising scientists have just published results in the journal Current Biology that may suggest why the Earth was so much warmer then.

Dinosaur farts.

Yup, you read that right.

These scientists have calculated the (ahem) “methane output” of sauropods (think Brontosaurus) as 520 million tonnes of gas annually. They based this on the dinosaurs’ estimated total population and used a scale that links biomass to methane output for modern day cattle (which produce somewhere around 50-100 million tonnes of, uh, flatus per year). They suggest the methane produced by veggie-loving dinos could have been a key factor in the warm climate 150 million years ago.

Science is awesome.

It occurs to me that dinosaurs seem determined to warm the Earth’s climate at any cost and across all time and space: first they fart their way to tropical temperatures 150 million years ago and now they’ve tricked us into burning their liquified bones (petroleum) and heating the atmosphere again. Sneaky dinosaurs…

– S.

I’ve previously reported findings that suggest fiction is good for the brain–turns out avid fiction readers have better people skills. I’ve also mused here about my occasional crisis of confidence that what I do–write what is essentially escapist fiction–may not have any redeeming social value.

Once again, science is proving that it has tonnes. SCIENCE!

As reported recently in the Boston Globe (and available on a mirror site here) psychological and broad-based literary analysis is finally proving that fiction does mold us, and for the better.

 The more engrossing the story, the more potent its influence. In fact, fiction seems to be more effective at changing beliefs than nonfiction. We are critical and skeptical when we read nonfiction, when we read argument and evidence. But a fictional tale that absorbs us makes us drop our guard.

It turns out that in this malleable state fiction enhances our ability to understand other people; it promotes a deep morality that cuts across religious and political creeds. Fiction’s happy endings warp our sense of reality: they make us believe that the world is more just than it actually is.

Virtually all storytelling, regardless of genre, increases society’s fund of empathy and reinforces an ethic of decency that is deeper than politics. Heavy fiction readers outperformed heavy nonfiction readers on tests of empathy, even after they controlled for the possibility that people who already had high empathy might naturally gravitate to fiction. As one of the researchers put it, fiction serves the function of “making the world a better place by improving interpersonal understanding.”

Yeah. That’s what I do. I’ll take that.

– S.

Hello all –

Wanted to direct your attention to the blog my writer’s group has set up: The Stop-Watch Gang Blog. You can find it here.

This is a site where you can learn more about the various members of the Stop-Watch Gang, as well as our successes. We’re a group of Toronto and Southwestern Ontario writers of the fantastic, and our line up is pretty impressive: dozens of professional publications, award winning authors, and no less than five Aurora Award finalists. Each week one member (usually Suzanne, but the rest of us are trying!) post something about writing, publishing, self-promotion as an author, etc. for your reading enjoyment. And as I say, you’ll likely be hearing a lot about our successes up there as well (probably less about our failures…)

My post today is the “Overheard at the Stop-Watch Gang Meeting” feature I’ve been posting here from time to time. Seems like the Stop-Watch Gang blog is the better place for them. Pop over and have a look.

Best,

– S.

Just in time for this weekend’s Ad Astra convention in Toronto, the 2012 Prix Aurora Award nominations have been announced!


An especially HUGE congratulations go out to two members of The Stop-Watch Gang who got nominated this year! Suzanne Church is nominated for her short story “The Needle’s Eye” in Chilling Tales: Evil Did I Dwell; Lewd Did I Live (EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing)–you can read the story free on Suzanne’s website–and to Costi Gurgu, a fine writer who has been nominated for his other life as a graphic designer! Costi has been nominated in the Best Artist category for his work on the cover art for Outer Diverse by Nina Munteanu (Starfire World Syndicate)–you can see the cover on the author’s website here. 


The full list follows below, and special congratulations also go out to my friends Ryan Oakley and Robert J. Sawyer, both nominated in the Best Novel – English category, Ryan for his debut novel Technicolor Ultra Mall (EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing), and Rob for Wake, the final volume in his WWW Trilogy.

“I’m writing a novel. I have the page numbers done, just have to finish the rest.”
– Stephen Wright

Okay, okay. I know. I’ve said this before. But in the immortal words of Bullwinkle J. Moose: “This time for sure!”

I’m writing The Novel.

I have characters. A plot. Even a title. And you’re not allowed to know anything about any of them, for now.

Hello all –

At this time of year it’s not only award season in Hollywood but in the SFnal world as well! That’s right–it’s time to think about your Hugo, Nebula, and Aurora Award voting for the 2012 science fiction award season.

Normally I’d post my stories for people to read online…but for contractual reasons it looks like I probably can’t. So, for anyone who might be nominating or voting for the Hugo, Nebula, or Canada’s Aurora Award please SEND ME AN E-MAIL and I’m happy to provide you with a copy in your preferred e-format for your consideration.

So, what do I have eligible for awards this year?


NEBULA AWARD – Nominations due by Wednesday, February 15th, 2012, 11:59pm PST
Novelette category:

HUGO AWARD – Nominations due by Sunday, March 11, 2012, 11:59pm PDT
Novelette category:
Kotowych, Stephen. “Under the Shield.” InterGalactic Medicine Show, Issue 24, August 2011


Short story category:
Kotowych, Stephen. “A Time for Raven.” Interzone #236, September/October 2011

PRIX AURORA AWARD – Nominations due Saturday, March 31, 2012, 11:59:59 PM PST
Best Short Fiction – English: 

– S.

“Usually when someone says ‘Johnson’ it means they’re uncircumcised. Did you know that?”

A: Christmas, an orgasm, and then a big shit? One of these things just doesn’t belong here.
B: Christmas?

“Instead of mittens give her a muff. Then you can say: ‘She’s hiding it in her muff!'”

“Lesbians? That purple chick? Lesbian stuff–that’s HOT!”

X: “Some of your names bothered me. ‘Nether’ made me think of ‘nether regions’ and got my mind thinking of something else.”
Y: “Mittens?”

“Synch, synch a song…”

The First: “It’s an arcology.”
The Second: “Oncology?”
The Rest: “ARCOLOGY.”

“I was going to write ‘IT WAS’ on an 8×11 piece of paper and make you eat it at the meeting because it was bothering me so much.”

Hello all –

It occurs to me that I’ve gone almost the whole of Movember without hitting you up for a donation! Well, with only 8 days of mo’ season left that changes now!

During November each year, Movember is responsible for the sprouting of moustaches on thousands of men’s faces, in Canada and around the world. With their “Mo’s”, these men raise vital funds and awareness for men’s health, specifically prostate cancer.

While I’ve participated in Movember before, this year it has special personal significance for me: a close family member was diagnosed this year, just before our wedding. But he’s doing well and has responded to treatment—treatment (and research) made possible in part by funds raised through events like Movember.

I’m part of Oxford University Press Canada’s mo team again this year, and I’d like to beat my personal best fundraising total of $100. I’m at $80 now, with 8 days of mo’ to go.

I’m also second place on my team, and I would surely love to be King of the Mo this year. The first place guy is $70 ahead of me—plus he’s a red head. You’re not going to let a ginger beat me, are you!?!?

So will you help me?

Please go to http://mobro.co/stephenkotowych for pictures of my mo’ (his name is Aramis) and consider a donation: even a $5 donation will go a long way in helping me reach my goal by the end of the month. If you forgot to get me a birthday present last week (yeah, you know you did) then a quick donation to my mo’ fund would be a perfect belated gift.

Thank you all, and may the mo’ be with you!

Stephen (and Aramis)

I have very distinct memories of the spring when I was in Grade 7.

My Grade 7 teacher would hold trivia tournaments at the end of every week and would hand out prizes. Being trivially minded, I won more than my fair share of such prizes (I still have the thesaurus I won as a prize).


One week, bored of the books on tanks and fighter jets that usually seemed to be on offer, I selected a giant bag of Twizzlers which I then spirited home, so that for once I didn’t have to share with my three brothers. I hid them in the top drawer of my blue desk, and for years afterward that drawer smelled of Twizzlers whenever I opened it. 


What I don’t remember as well was where I acquired two other very important items from that spring: a copy of Paul Simon’s album The Rhythm of the Saints on cassette, and a hardcover copy of Anne McCaffery’s Dragonsdawn. I can still recall the ragged, untrimmed edge of the pages, the first time I’d encountered these in a book. I remember thinking that perhaps whoever had given it to me had got it cheap, as some kind of printer’s error copy. 


Each night I would read Dragonsdawn until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and then I’d fall asleep listening to ‘The Obvious Child’ on my knock-of Walkman (listening with the volume almost at pain-inducing levels, so that the drums filled the universe). 


But the strongest memory from that spring were my school lunch hours. See, I lived right around the corner from school so I went home each day for lunch. And for that spring when I was reading Dragonsdawn I would inhale my lunch and then, rather than watch cartoons, I would run up to my room, grab a couple of Twizzlers from my secret stash, and flop down on my bed to read Dragonsdawn in the sunshine (I’m sure it must have rained but I only recall sunshine). I would read for as long as I possibly could, often so long that I was late for afternoon classes. More than once I can recall arriving in the school yard, having run full tilt from home, to arrive just as the last student in line was entering the school.


These are wonderful memories, and I still recall how engrossed I was by the book, the smell of Twizzlers, the feeling of the warm sunshine on my bed…


Anne McCaffrey died yesterday, I’ve just discovered. She was a judge of the Writers of the Future contest and I regret that I was never able to meet her during my trips to the contest week. I would very much like to have told her what that book meant to eleven-year-old Stephen, longing to be a science fiction writer himself. 


Thank you for that book, Anne, and for the happy memories I associate with it. I only hope that someday some book of mine can mean as much to someone as yours did to me when I was young.