There is money to be made in selling the stink in gas, would you believe. D, who was up here this week, has a new job for the company that sells the stink in natural gas.

I had never give it much though, to be honest. I knew that somewhere gas got a smell, because it went from requiring caged birds in mining shafts, to that smell when you leave your oven on by mistake. But it never occurred to me that the addition of mercaptan to the gas was done on purpose and for safety, or that there was a job where you went round selling the stink.

If anyone job ever demanded fiction, it was the Man Who Sold the Stink.

Well, maybe. I’ll see how I go.

The deadline for Polyphony Seven has been extended to March 15th. Did you pre-order?

There’s been a lot of links going round for the ten rules for writing fiction that was in the Guardian the other day. Mostly, they’re pretty ordinary rules, but occasionally there’s a funny one, or one that’s got a ring of truth to it, such as Anne Enright’s ‘The first 12 years are the worst.’

I don’t know that I personally have ten rules. I write, I finish what I write more often than not, and I sell it. In the grand scheme of successful authors, I’m not very successful, but most days of the week I feel I’m moving forward, and not backwards, and I figure that’s good to believe in. Some days, however, are better than others. Some days you can’t escape the sense of failure, the opinions of people, the business, and the hate mail. Still, you do what you can, hey? And to be honest, I think I’ve had a bit of a shift in my opinion towards writing in the last year. I look back and I think that I was very passionate for a lot of things in writing and it got me into a lot of trouble, most of the time–trouble I didn’t mind because, well, none of that kind of trouble was ever new to me. But now, splitting my time between working and writing, I’ve had to focus my passion a bit differently, if that makes sense. I like to think I found a way to focus some of it into teaching–though that really does depend on the student and what I have–but otherwise I think these days I have everything a lot more directed into what I do, and what I write. There seems to be less chances for me to get into trouble, but that said, nothing has come along that has really gotten me all fired up about the indignation of whatever for a while. At least,not in the writing community.

On the other hand, a year after I heard about it, I finally got around to buying Christian Bok’s Eunoia.

Here’s a quote:

“Awkward grammar appals a craftsman. A Dada bard as daft as Tzara damns stagnant art and scrawls an alpha (a slapdash arc and a backward zag) that mars all stanzas and jams all ballads (what a scandal). A madcap vandal crafts a small black ankh–a handstamp that can stamp a wax pad and at last plant a mark that sparks an ars magna (an abstract art that chards a phrasal anagram). A pagan skald chants a dark saga (a Mahabharata), as a papal cabal blackballs all annals and tracts, all dramas and psalms: Kant and Kafka, Marx and Marat. A Law as harsh as a fatwa bans all paragraphs that lack an A as a standard hallmark.”

I am in awe.

Some days, I don’t know why I do the things I do.

Today is such a day. Today I am attempting to teach comedy. Mostly, I’m trying to teach about the different styles and genres within it, but I try to keep things interesting. My current student (who, right now, is sitting here reading an old copy of The Hobbit that I didn’t know I had) told me, without question, that a lot of writers weren’t funny. Terry Pratchett, he said, was boring. The Wee Free Men especially. Having not read The Wee Free Men I couldn’t say he was on crack, but the teacher at school, probably motivated by all the adults who thought it was funny and excellent, has him reading it. I don’t know. Adults. Who would trust them. Anyhow, I think the Hobbit is rubbish as well, but for some reason, I also have a copy of the parody, the Soddit, which I honestly couldn’t tell you when I bought or for why.

But, it’s a parody, right, and it’s educational, right–well, now it is–and already, the student has stopped to say that the Hobbit is funnier than the Soddit, which I’m fairly sure was not the intention when I came up with this plan.

Oh well.

In a moment I’m going to make him write a parody of War of the Worlds.

From Deb Layne (wheatland_press):

In 2002, the Polyphony anthology series debuted. Conceived as a short fiction venue for stories that would skate gracefully across the boundaries of science fiction, fantasy, magic realism, and literary fiction, it was quickly recognized as the standard bearer for cross genre work. Since then, the series’ six volumes have become a vital, unique collection of voices in literature of the fantastic.

Polyphony has been twice nominated for a World Fantasy Award and the stories therein have been featured in several “Year’s Best” anthologies, along with garnering accolades from several award judges and committees. Polyphony authors range from multiple-award-winning seasoned writers to the previously unpublished. The series is truly a melodic interweaving of many voices: old and new, speculative and literary, heralded and unknown. Polyphony has not merely crossed literary boundaries, it has reformed and redefined them.

The harsh economic climate threatens to kill this vital series. Wheatland Press is asking for your help.

The authors have graciously made concessions to make Polyphony 7 a reality. They’ve agreed to a reduced pay rate to see the volume published. Now we need readers.

In order to publish Polyphony 7, Wheatland Press must receive 225 paid pre-orders via the website by March 1, 2010. If the pre-order quantities cannot be met, Polyphony will cease publication. It’s that simple. The preorder link is here: http://www.wheatlandpress.com/
(mid page)

If the preorder number is met, then Polyphony 7 will be published on or about July 1, 2010.*

We have heard from many in the SF/F literary community that Polyphony is a vital part of landscape. We agree, but we cannot continue without your support. We hope that you will support our fine authors and their art by becoming part of the Polyphony community and pre-ordering a copy of Polyphony 7.

*The fine print: If we do not receive enough orders by March 1, then all preorders will be refunded immediately.

Do feel free to buy another Wheatland Press title while you are stopping by the website! Those will, as always, ship immediately.

And, also feel free to repost this announcement with impunity

If you got the time, support the publisher, and support the anthology series. There’s a new story of mine in the new book, as well.

In case you missed it yesterday, later this year will see the publication of Above & Below a double novella published by 12th Planet Press. I’ll be sharing the book with the always lovely Stephanie Campisi.

The story is set after a city in the sky falls to the ground, and Above, Steph’s novella, deals with what happens in the floating cities of Loft. Mine, entitled Below, deals with what happens in Dirt, where the city crashes. One of the neat tricks we’re doing for the book is making sure that each piece folds onto the other, reinforcing each story, and adding more depth–what you’ll end up with, hopefully, is a small novel, and one that will reward the reader no matter which side he or she begins on.

Should be neat, I reckon.

Five years ago, for no real particular reason, I interviewed a bunch of people in the Australian scene. People seemed to dig it, so much so, in fact, that in 2007, Alisa Krasnostein and the ASif people did it again. They’re back for a go in 2010, which is kind of nice, really, and I did an interview which shows how much of a mellow sort I am.

Also, it tells you that Steph Campisi and I will have a small book out this year called Above & Below.

Now, the interview:

It seemed fitting to start with Ben Peek for my series of interviews. Ben Peek is a Sydney-based writer. He’s had two novels published. The first was an autobiography called Twenty-Six Lies/One Truth, and was published by Wheatland Press, and illustrated by Anna Brown. His second novel was a dystopian novel called Black Sheep,. His short stories have appeared in collections like Polyphony, Agog!, Forever Shores, and magazines such as Aurealis, Fantasy Magazine, Phantom, and Lone Star Stories. In 2007 and 2008, he ran an online comic with Anna Brown titled Nowhere Near Savannah.

Peek also conducted the first Aussie Snapshot, in 2005, which was so much fun that ASif! repeated it in 2007 and again, now, in 2010.

1. You did the first Snapshot back in 2005. How do you think the scene has changed over nearly 5 years? Do you view the local scene differently to how you did when you conducted those first set of interviews?

Five years.

It doesn’t seem like five years, to be honest. I wonder if that’s a sign of age kicking in or something similar.

As for the scene changing, I’m not sure it has, hugely. There’s new writers and new presses, of course, but it seems to me that it speaks largely to the same audience, a problem that exists in small presses around the world. Of course, I’m probably not the best person to give an opinion of the scene, since I have very little to do with it. The parties, cons, whatnot–they’re really not my scene. The few people I chat with I do so over email, so I’m a bit out of touch. I guess you could say I don’t really have a huge interest in the scene anymore. I just write. I just publish. After that, it isn’t really my concern.

2. What are you working on at the moment and what can we expect from Peek in the near future?

At the moment I’m writing a novella called BELOW, which is the second half of a small book I’m doing with Steph Campisi called ABOVE & BELOW. She’s writing ABOVE. It’s a pretty neat idea, actually, in that we’re writing two novellas that will be printed as one book, and which, no matter the side you begin on, fold into each other and compliment the other story, yet remained independent. That’s going to be published by 12th Planet Planet Press. There’s a story of mine called White Crocodile Jazz coming out in SPRAWL, an anthology edited by Alisa Krasnostein, and I recently recorded my novella, ‘Under the Red Sun’ for Keith Stevenson’s podcast.

There’s some other stuff in the works, but if there’s anything I’ve learnt about this gig in the last fifteen years, it’s that it isn’t worth bothering to talk about until there’s things signed. Hopefully there’ll be things to say soon enough.

What hopefully will happen is that this year there will simply be more of me around. Last year wasn’t a particularly good one, from a business stand point, and even a personal one, really, and it took its toll. So, push through, clap hands, and so on and so forth.

3. You’ve been writing short stories, and a novella, in a series you call > Dead Americans. What fascinates you about iconic Americans and what are you exploring when you write them with alternate history?

I guess when I’m writing about dead Americans, what I’m writing about is my culture. I’m a white Australian, a mongrel background kid who grew up on Japanese cartoons translated for Americans, American movies, and make believe fantasies primarily from the States. Soaked into that is the music, the lives, the general thrust of the capitalist society we live in, and dead Americans–at least the ones that fascinate me–all form a part of that little tapestry. Sometimes, when I write about them, it’s the big, obvious people like John Wayne, who embodied that noble, yet humble, big, tough masculine figure–and who also had the duality of the racism and the freedom that is part of the country. Others, like Octavia Butler, aren’t so much as about the author, but about the themes she engaged with, the things that motivated her work, and a desire for me to get people to read more of it. It’s different each time out, and part of that is myself, too–because I hate repeating myself in my work, since it doesn’t feel like growth, and it isn’t interesting or challenging to do.

Americans, pop culture Americans especially, are bigger than they have a right to be. David Carradine is a good example of it–why should anyone remember the guy who played Kane, a Z-grade martial arts wandering bum in a Z-grade series that demanded no loyalty? Truth is, there’s no reason, but they do, and likely they will forever now, because of the simply amazing way in which he accidentally killed himself, tied up in a body stocking, with woman’s clothes next to him, and a rope tied around his genitals.

4. Which Australian writers or work would you like to see on the Hugo shortlists this year? What have you enjoyed reading?

Hugos?

You know, I laughed, just a little, when I read this. I can’t remember who won a Hugo last year, much less be particularly moved to figure out who deserves one this year. A statue and accolades from people you don’t know? I know there’s a line for people who want it, but it’s not my thing.

But you know, me and awards. It’s why I’m so charming.

Book wise, I’m currently enjoying Thomas Lynch’s APPARITION AND LATE FICTION. I’m a big, big fan of Lynch, ever since I read THE UNDERTAKING years ago, and this is the first book that has felt similar, thematically, to that. I totally recommend it. I read James Morrow’s SHAMBLING TOWARDS HIROSHIMA, which I thought was okay, but seemed to be aimed at people who are more into monster flicks than me–Morrow’s THE PHILOSOPHER’S APPRENTICE is sitting close at hand, and I’ll read that soon, I think, because it looks like Morrow in full swing, which is an excellent thing. Lydia Millet’s collection LOVE IN INFANT MONKEYS isn’t so bad so far, and like everything Millet writes, is written with such a fine command of language. I should see about getting a poster of Millet and making her into a rockstar for the disenfranchised. I kinda stumbled and fell off on Margart Atwood’s ORYX AND CRAKE, though it was beautifully written, and–

And, you know, there’s a lot of nice books out there. Fine writers. Ngugi Wa Thiong’o’s WIZARD OF THE CROW–that and a couple of David Gemmell books I hadn’t read before his death, STORMRIDER AND RAVENHEART. Both writers are hugely different, but they hit what I wanted at the time.

5. Will you be at Aussiecon 4 in September? If so, what are you most looking forward to about it?

September?

That’s a little far away, don’t you think? I’ve barely figured out February.

To read all the 2010 Snapshot Interviews hot off the press, check these blogs daily:

http://random-alex.livejournal.com/
http://girliejones.livejournal.com/
http://kathrynlinge.livejournal.com/
http://www.mechanicalcat.net/rachel

A happy New Year to you all.

I think there was a time when I didn’t know when Chinese New Year happened, but its long passed now. If the students don’t remind me, my friends do, or the neighbours sing songs in the back of their yard.

I’ve been reading Thomas Lynch’s collection, Apparition and Late Fictions over the last few days. It’s a slim book, with only five stories in it (the final one being a large novella), and I have to say, I’m enjoying it so far. Undertaking remains one of my favourite books, and I reckon I must have talked about it here more than enough, but while I’ve liked Lynch’s other books, Bodies in Rest and Motion and Booking Passage didn’t grab me as much as that first one did. Good stuff, but at times a little too Catholic and a little too Irish for my tastes. But the collection, at least at this early part, is much more akin to Undertaking than any of the other books, with the stories so far being meditations on loss and violence. Also, I’m not quite sure I realised how much went into fishing. This is possibly because the only time I ever fished was when I was a kid, and my old man and his friend took me and his kid out into a lake on a tiny, metal boat, and sat us in the sun with reels while they fished.

We caught nothing.

Check out the book though, I reckon.

I went out to put washing on the line about a little bit ago, and I’m standing there, pinning sheets in the sun, when I glance up–

–Jesus, but I’m still not quite sure what it’s doing in that web.

Link.

Today I did a reading for Keith Stevenson’s podcast, Terra Incognita SF.

I read my novella, ‘Under the Red Sun’, which may or may have not been a wise choice, given that the recording said it went for an hour once I had finished. That might not be right, incidentally–there’s probably about forty minutes of stumbles that Keith will take out, rendering it a lean, easy going five minutes, with thirty minutes of commercials. Or something like that. Either way, it was interesting to do: I don’t read my work often, mostly because I’m hardly ever asked to do so–venues for readings a pretty scarce round here–and I tend to think that my work looks better on a page than it does written aloud.

In fact, I’m a big believer that writing for the page is not the same as writing to be read. I came to that conclusion years back, when I had a student who was also a performance artist. She would submit CDs of her work, which were always really neat, and the highlight of every assignment period. But when you saw the work on the page there was no elegance, no style, nothing but big slabs of text that made you want to go and cry in a corner. What surprised me was how little I would have guessed that by hearing her perform. She was, really, impressive: subtle and stylish and powerful and raw when needed. But it was also true that I could barely make it through the page of her written scripts. It was around then that I started to pay attention to the differences, to how we read with our eyes, and what they will register subconsciously, and how your ears will take something in. There is, I think, a rather large difference, and I’m not sure how ‘Under the Red Sun’ will sound to the listener, but I hope it isn’t the reverse of what I just described.

Still, it was fun, and waking up to big packages of recording material sent by Keith was also pretty funny. I honestly didn’t expect to get a whole stand and microphone sent to me when I agreed to do the recording. I thought I’d get a headset, and sound fuzzy and lost, a figure trapped in early technology, wearing stylish suits, smoking cigarettes, and telling you the world was ending.