Can someone explain to me how and why the world’s lone remaining superpower is so scared of everyone and everything that even Canadian money makes them raise the Threat Level on that stupid Homeland Security Advisory System?

Seriously–are they LOOKING for things to be afraid of?

– S.

Marshall McLuhan’s book Understanding Media was subtitled “The Extensions of Man,” arguing that our media (and media technology) allow us to extend ourselves beyond our physical bodies (data storage in the form of books, films, digital information, etc. substituting for natural powers of memory and recall, for example).

Well, as this piece by Leah McLaren in the Globe & Mail points out, people especially of my generation are extending themselves with gusto. It actually frightens me how much I identify with this article.

I particularly love this passage:

For those of us who spend our waking, working hours in front of computer screens, the memory stick is not just a disc substitute, it’s a synthetic externalization of our deepest ambitions and desires. A replicant psyche furnished exclusively with half-finished masterpieces and carefully selected mementos, the memory stick – unlike our first brain – is mercifully devoid of surprises. Or as one struggling screenwriter friend of mine puts it jokingly: “For years, I searched for a matchbook-sized vessel to hold the ashes of my hopes and dreams, and now I’ve finally found it.”

That’s the kind of self-loathing I like to see in writers 🙂

– S.

PS: Her observation about “the smug feeling you get when you purchase a very serious book, as if just owning all that information is making you smarter,” is also bitingly true. I bought recently and have always wanted to read T.E. Lawrence’s (aka Lawrence of Arabia) Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Though I’ve not yet read it I do feel better just having it on my shelf 🙂

So I’ve spent the better part of Saturday afternoon cleaning my office at work.

(LOSER!)

Despite the sign on my office door which reads (and in which I firmly believe): “A cluttered desk is a sign of genius” opinion seems to have turned against my, uhh, unique filing system (i.e.: piles on floor, desk, and any flat surface).

We’re having a provincial health and safety inspector visit in the next little while and I gather my office is considered neither “healthy” nor “safe” in its current state.

I don’t mind cleaning up so we’re not fined or something, but I’m just disappointed no one appreciates clutter like I do. It took me years to get my office this messy…

– S.

I will confess that despite playing C-level co-ed rec basketball (at which I suck, hard) from time to time, I’m not really one to follow the sport. However, “Raps Fever” has indeed gripped me recently as the Toronto Raptors and the New Jersey Nets faced off in the NBA playoffs.

Part of my involvement with the series was due to my buddy Ryan–he lives and dies by every shot and is almost more fun to watch than the game–and the fact that, though I’m not really a basketball fan, Vince Carter is rightly the most hated man in Toronto.

But, alas, the Raps lost by ONE POINT in a hard-fought game 6 last night. It was rough to take, but the group I was watching it with made it a good time anyway.

Now, my buddy Ryan was lamenting our loss to Carter (and by “lamenting” I mean hurling foul invectives at the grinning televised face of Vince, whilst simultaneously offering his darkest opinions on Vince’s wife, mother, and questionable off-court pass times–all in all, quite funny) but as someone pointed out, Carter was a non-factor.

Jason Kidd was the real nemesis of the Raptors…perhaps not surprising, given his more than passing resemblance to a Reman from Star Trek: Nemesis.

Don’t believe me?

You be the judge:

See? Creepy, right? That’s all I could picture any time Kidd had the ball.

– S.

PS: There are MAJOR bonus points up for grabs if anyone can tell me the reference I’m making in the post’s title…

Hi all –

Just thought I’d update you all on my various submissions, starting with the most recent.

“Shipbreaker” is with Interzone as of 01 May 2007. Jetse has had some nice things to say about my previous submissions to IZ, and though he’s politely declined on both occasions I’ve subsequently been able to sell the stories elsewhere.

“Gagiid” has been returned to the Missouri Review today after a rewrite request last month. They felt the story was a bit flabby in the midsection (not unlike its author I might add) and asked for a few other small changes. I hope they like what I’ve done. The Missouri Review is a well-regarded literary magazine and I’d be thrilled to be published there. The story can best be described as ‘magic realism’, and since the fantastical element is slight, and as it came out so “literary”, my friend Trent suggested I try a literary market, rather than the genre magazines.

“The Hushed Voice” is with the anthology Holy Horrors (since 12 Feb 2007).

“The Great Hymn of the Aten” is with Intergalactic Medicine Show (also since 12 Feb 2007).

And “The Festival of Toxcatl” is awaiting the reopening of Paradox on 01 June. The editor at Paradox had some very kind words about my last submission there and asked me to submit more when they reopened their reading period. Happy to oblige 🙂

Other than that, I’ve sold almost everything else that’s done–an unexpectedly nice situation to be in. I have two stories–“Endorphins Anonymous” and “Waiting for the Iceman”–which are complete but that I’ve pulled from circulation pending revisions. I decided I wasn’t happy with them after all.

I have a special project to work on for most of this summer (for pay!) so I don’t know that I’ll get a lot of new writing done before the trip to the Writers of the Future week (I also have some homework to do before then–read at least one book by those judges who I’ve never read. Happily, I’ve read at least one book by almost all of them, but there are a lot of judges so I have five or six people I’ve missed…until now!)

My summer projects will be this “special project” and hopefully some serious rewrites/revisions to the ten (!) stories I have in finished drafts but which remain unpolished. A couple I’ve had waiting for more than a year–it will be interesting to see how (or if) my style and skill have improved in that time. I have a feeling my writing has become more concise since I wrote many of these early stories (though you’d never know it from my blog…)

– S.

Saw this article on the BBC and I thought it was hilarious.

I don’t know why exactly I found it so funny–I suppose it’s actually a neat way to gauge skill of players generally considered better on one or other playing surface.

Maybe it reminds me of some ridiculous futuristic sport you might see in sci-fi (or sport-fi? 🙂 like Parrises squares in ST:TNG or jumpball in the Starship Troopers movie which you see and think: “No one will ever play that.”

Slamball was a real-world version of this silly-futuristic-sport phenomenon. Had I not see it played in real-life I would have scoffed out loud in the movie theater when Data and Geordie started bouncing on trampolines and dunking basketballs…

– S.

If you’re not watching HEROES…well, you should be.

I admittedly have a weakness for superheroes, but this is some quality TV–great stories, great suspense, great characters (except for the blond one with the split personality and her family; they bore the crap out of me). It’s the only show on TV that I’m anxious to see the next week and that always leaves me in suspense, imagining what comes next–a role once filled by ALIAS (the first three seasons, before things went south), by LOST (which has been only intermittently okay this season, a far cry from its beginnings), and first season of PRISON BREAK (before the second season wasted everyone’s time).

A number of people at the office also watch HEROES and we have detailed dissections of each episode on Tuesday mornings. However, the time travel that’s been taking place in the last few episodes has, it seems, confused some of my colleagues.

I thought it was handled well and was easy to follow, but then again I’m an SF kinda guy, and the same can’t be said about my friends here at the office. The main reaction on my colleagues’ part seems to be to accept it without worrying to much about the hows or the why.

Very much the Austin Powers approach to time travel.

– S.

Happened upon a review of UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS at SF Site’s Schrödinger’s Bookshelf. Of the collection the reviewer, Michael M Jones, says:

As with all anthologies, there’s a little something for everyone, but more often than not, these stories genuinely entertained and interested me. It’s certainly easy to see some of these concepts working in today’s society, while others, a bit more far-fetched, certainly take the theme of the collection to heart. I enjoyed this one quite a bit.

And of my story he says:

In “Borrowed Time,” Stephen Kotowych confirms what we already suspected, that there’s a secret group stealing away the idle moments of our lives, stockpiling it in service to a greater agenda. But are they doing us a favor, or do we deserve every moment of our lives, even the ones we waste? There’s a rogue faction dedicated to exploring this very question in this nifty little tale.

Nifty, eh?

Cool.

– S.

Having calmed down from yesterday, I’ve been talking to some people around the office who’ve read CITIUS, ALTIUS, FORTIUS–the story that just sold to TESSERACTS 11. I put a copy in our office dayfile, which circulates among the staff as a way to keep up-to-date on the various goings-on with our projects at the office.

The various reactions have been “I really liked your story,” followed by some interesting and rather pleasing follow-ups: “Disturbing,” “Creepy,” “Scary,” “Depressing for what the future holds.” Ah, magic! Exactly what I was going for! Makes you want to run right out and read it, doesn’t it?

As I’ve said before, CITIUS, ALTIUS, FORTIUS is a story about corporate nations, the Olympics, genetic modification, and how dreams have a way of not turning out the way you expect.

Now, I write mainly science fiction, and fairly hard-ish science fiction (i.e.: some aspect of real-world scientific principles plays a key role in the tale; remove it and you’d have no story) so I’m pleased that it has elicited such responses.

Ray Bradbury (a writer-hero of mine) once said: “People ask me to predict the future, when all I want to do is prevent it.” I think that’s rather reflective of much of the science fiction I write.

I’m hardly a positivist (as many of the Golden Age SF writers were, and as some great SF writers still are) because to me positivism is a lot like communism: a great theory which doesn’t work in real life because it ignores human nature (especially greed and self-interest).

In my writing (and in my life) I tend to see science and scientific/technical progress as a double-edged sword. My MA was in the history of science and technology, and my studies have only reinforced my wariness about the promises and pitfalls of science. Our technical skill is amazing, certainly, and as a citizen of a Western nation I realize (and am grateful) that I’m one of the primary benefactors of man’s technical acumen. But we move so fast with “progress” that our humanity rarely has time to catch up.

We often hear that the problems we’ve caused because of our technology will be solved by more and better technology. I for one am dubious.

Technological innovation is so susceptible to the law of unintended consequences that to suggest “No one would ever use X to do Y” is foolish, at best. CITIUS, ALTIUS, FORTIUS is a reflection on such anxieties and is certainly meant to act as a cautionary tale. I’m glad to see that it’s acted as such for at least a few people I know.

Whether it can (as Ray said) help prevent the future…well, we’ll have to see won’t we?

– S.

So I got a new rejection today–I won’t say for what story, or what venue, or what editor–and I must confess this one actually bothered me, and continues to do so long hours after the initial disappointment has passed.

Now, I get lots of rejections. Every writer does. I’m currently running better than 10:1 rejections to acceptances. And sure there’s a few moments of disappointment that you haven’t sold to Magazine X or Anthology Y or Website Z when you open up that rejection letter. After all, sending out stories is a bit like playing the lottery: no matter how well tailored you think your story might be for a given market (your ‘lucky numbers’) you never know which ones will hit. And the masochistic fun of writing is the anticipation of “Maybe this will be one that sells.”

But then it doesn’t. And you’re sad…for about five minutes while you type up a new cover letter, affix stamp to envelope, and mail the story out to the next market. Then you’re expectant again and the cycle continues.

And if you aren’t perverse enough to enjoy that, well, you (and your ego) won’t last very long as a writer.

So after getting 10 rejections for each acceptance I’ve had means taking rejection is no big deal…usually.

The rejection I got this morning was clearly personal and tailored to my story, the editor explaining that he didn’t like the narrative voice, the journal format, that he felt detached and disengaged while reading, and that he’d seen a number of stories with similar endings.

Okay. Fair enough. He didn’t like it. Happens all the time. Doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong with the story, it just didn’t grab this particular editor and wasn’t as good a fit for that market as I thought. No problem. That’s a rejection I can take. I happen to disagree about the quality of the story, which is why I’ll be sending it out again somewhere else tomorrow.

However, what has pissed me off the whole rest of the day was the little parting shot he felt the need to include:

“You misuse pronouns constantly.”

Whaaaaaat?

As I said, I can handle all the rest of his opinions about the story; they don’t bother me a bit. This? Well, this is saying I don’t understand one of the most basic features of English-language writing.

In short it says: “You don’t know how to write.”

Not: “You can’t write”–which people say when they mean you can’t tell a good story–but “You don’t know how to write,” as in “You can’t construct basic written sentences in your native language.”

On a deeper level it questions my competence and professionalism as a writer: it says I clearly don’t edit or proof-read my work; it says I don’t get anyone to read my stories before I send them out; it says I’m wasting editors’ time by sending my stuff out at all.

And hey, know what? If I didn’t neurotically edit or proof-read my work, if I didn’t have a group of readers (five in this case, including a number of other writers, one Masters candidate, and my buddy who is graduating with his Ph.D. this summer) read my stuff and who catch sentence-level errors I miss, or if, after all that, errors persisted and I looked through my story and said: “By the power of Grayskull–I did misuse pronouns!” well, I’d accept the criticism, change the story, and be grateful that somebody caught my error.

But you know what?

He’s wrong. Just plain wrong.

Not only did I not see any pronoun errors when writing or editing the story, not only did no one who read the story note any pronoun errors (confirmed for me this afternoon by one of the readers), but after re-reading the whole story at lunch I didn’t find a single one.

Now, I’ve written a lot of stories, even more essays in school, I have a Masters degree, my day job is as an editor of scholarly books–I’d like to think I’m not a schmuck. I know how to construct an English-language sentence. I know the difference between first-person singular (I), first-person plural (we), second-person (you), third-person singular masculine (he), third-person singular feminine (she), third-person singular neuter (it), and third-person plural (they), between their subjective and objective uses, etc.

So more than making me question this editor’s competence, what bothers me is the injustice of his erroneous claim that I don’t get this most basic concept. And I’m sorely (an unprofessionally) tempted to write back and decry his error. Whether or not he likes the story or my storytelling ability I don’t care at this point. What I can’t bear is the accusation that I don’t know how to write. Whatever you think of the content of my sentences, you can be assured that they are at least put together correctly.

But hey, there’s no use arguing. Besides, it’s not the supposed grammatical infelicities that turfed the story from this collection–the editor didn’t like the tale or its telling. He’s passed judgment and there will be no convincing him now, grammar-checks included. And it’s his Magazine X or Anthology Y or Website Z and he gets to publish what he wants there.

So as for his error, I guess sometimes you just have to shut up and take it…or failing that, blog about it. 🙂

– S.