The passing of U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justice Antonin Scalia last weekend turned national politics on its head. Not only will Americans elect a new president, but the Senate will debate the future direction of the highest court in the land. The situation makes me wake up in the middle of the night with meme ideas. What fun! Here’s what comes to mind.
Once a week from 1959 to 1964, Rod Serling invited Americans to “the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition.” The Twilight Zone illustrated the permeable boundary between fact and fantasy, a region explored by science, which pushes the edges of the unknown, postulating things unproven, but inferred.
The announcement of the discovery of Planet Nine falls into this category of deduced reality. Astronomers and theorists examined odd behavior of the eight major planets and their poor cousins, the dwarf planets, as well as the Solar System’s population of comets and asteroids. The best explanation was another major planet, probably a gas giant halfway in size between Earth and Neptune, circling the sun every 10,000 to 20,000 years. They invited the world to hunt for this invisible titan, find it, or prove them wrong.
People now have a choice: Believe in Planet Nine or not. Scientists have proposed planets beyond the eight accepted “wanderers” before. All were debunked. Black holes were predicted, then found. Planet Nine lives in this secret sphere of maybe/maybe not, in a place where another one of my favorite shows, The X-Files, loves to hang out. For the entire run of the show, protagonist Fox Mulder attempted to prove the existence of the shadow world he believed in.
The timing of Planet Nine’s announcement could not have been better, coming a few days before the six-episode reboot of the adventures of Mulder and his partner, Dana Scully. In fact, one could postulate a conspiracy between FOX and Fox, or at least Fox’s inventor, producer Chris Carter. I’m hoping somehow Carter will work in a line from Mulder about the existence of Planet Nine. I’m guessing Fox’s heart is in the same place as mine. I want to believe.
Do you believe?
The original Star Trek series marks the 50th anniversary of its first broadcast on September 8. It was just three weeks after my seventh birthday, but the series soon had a profound affect on my perceptions of popular culture. I don’t think I’d be who I am without Star Trek in my life. I’ll be posting my own interpretations of a half-century of “where no man has gone before” over the next months, maybe years. Let me know what you think!
For the uninitiated: Plomeek soup is a Vulcan comfort food that appears in the episode Amok Time, in which Mr. Spock suffers a Vulcan version of (sexist trigger warning) PMS.
Spoilers ahead, including details of book endings
You’ve invested days, maybe weeks of time in a relationship, but at the end, you’re disappointed. It happens in real-life relationships, and it happens to readers invested in a novel’s characters. Fortunately, the latter is a rare thing, but when it happens, it can be a gut punch. I was stunned by the ending of a book by one of my favorite authors, John le Carré, who’s best known for his espionage novel Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Le Carré has a storytelling style that reminds me of peeling layers off an onion while blindfolded. It’s a labyrinthine journey of discovery.
Disappointment with Le Carré descended on me while I was listening to the last few minutes of an audiobook version of Our Kind of Traitor, the author’s 22nd novel. It’s the story of a young Oxford academic and his barrister girlfriend, who vacation on the island of Antigua and meet Dima, a Russian millionaire who came by his wealth by less-than-honest means. The plot focuses on a plan to rescue him and his family from the Russian mafia by giving him a new life in England. In exchange, he promises to tell investigators everything he knows about his money-laundering ways, betraying his criminal colleagues. Continue reading
If I were to list personal predictions for 2016, they wouldn’t include an email from an agent or publisher with a contract for one of my books. 2015 looked pretty hopeful for Carbon Run, with encouraging words from one agent, who suggested stronger interest if I’d only have a professional editor go over the manuscript. I’ve done that—twice—and the agent has gone silent, even after a couple of pings. Subsequent submissions to other agents have resulted in rejections or more silence. That means I’m facing a choice to keep submitting it to agents and publishers or self-publish the novel myself. I’d rather do the former, but I’m ready to do the latter.
Either way, I’ll need to build a marketing platform. Do I have to do it even if a publisher buys the novel? Yes. There’s a persistent myth among aspiring authors that once a publisher picks up your work, all you have to do is sit back and watch the royalties roll in. That may be true with the top 1 percent of revenue-generating authors, but for the 99 percent like you and me, you’re on your own as far as marketing is concerned. The main things that publishers bring to the table these days are distribution to bookstores, access to top-tier reviewers (really a marketing tactic), and the imprimatur of a brand in the case of the major publishers. In the case of independent authors, well, you have to do EVERYTHING except run the press. Continue reading
I once thought I wrote science fiction, but my editor on Carbon Run convinced me that it’s a dystopian thriller, more in line with Hunger Games than Star Trek. In truth, only booksellers care about genre, apart from the readers they’ve trained. Genres are simply conveniences that writers have to live with. Put another way, genres are the old solution to the discoverability problem: How do writers find readers and vice versa? You want sci-fi, you look on the sci-fi shelf, or enter “sci-fi” in the Amazon search box. Continue reading
Star War: The Force Awakens has taken in $1 billion in ticket sales, and I’m betting a large share comes from parents taking their kids to see the blockbuster. It’s more than mom and/or dad looking for ways to occupy the young’ns on a long holiday weekend. What was once a triennial or quadrennial ritual reserved for sci-fi and fantasy geeks has become a sharing-time moment, not too far from parents and kids watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown together every Halloween.
My two daughters and I took in the latest Star Wars epic on Christmas night, after spending the afternoon with their grandmother and waiving goodbye to their mother, who was off to California on family business. The offspring are both in college, but all their friends had obligations on Christmas night, so I jumped at the chance to share my passion for the Star Wars story. For as long as they were able to mimic Dad saying “Luke, I am your father,” I’d tell the story of waiting for two hours in 1977 to buy a ticket outside a Seattle theatre for the original Star Wars movie, then wait another two hours to see the picture, and finding myself completely captivated by it. I bought the books, listened over and over to the recording (on vinyl) of the John Williams score, and waited like a bridegroom for the second, third, and so on installments of the franchise. Continue reading
Lately, I’ve been thinking of ways to make my blog more “likeable,” which is a way of saying “less boring.” It’s a well-established fact of online life that outrageous gets attention and traffic, but my posts tend to be on the ponderous side, mostly because I’m not very good at provoking reactions or ranting about every little thing. My writing voice isn’t suited to it. When I do write a rant, I feel that I just look angry, which doesn’t win friends or followers.
I’ve also got an instinctive aversion to self-promotion, a vital skill for a self-published author. My reluctance comes from a very old-fashioned value that regards ostentatious emotional displays as unseemly and distasteful. Talking about yourself too much is a sign of an ego out of control. It’s fine for politicians and celebrities, but not for ordinary people. None of this works to my benefit in a media environment where ego rules, and one has to shout like a maniac to be heard. Continue reading