Dean's Peanut Gallery

If, like me, you love short fiction that has appeared in various publications (such as Asimov's,  F&SF, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Realms of Fantasy, Interzone and other hard-to-find-without-a-subscription magazines) and want them on your bookshelf, then AnthologyBuilder is for you.  AnthologyBuilder is the brainchild of Nancy Fulda, author and assistant editor of the speculative fiction magazine Jim Baen's Universe.

You can choose the stories you want from the growing list of short stories (from classics by Hans Christian Andersen, Edgar Allan Poe and Jane Austen to speculative fiction by Ted Kosmatka, Tobias Buckell, Mary Robinette Kowal, Jay Lake and Ben Rosenbaum), write an introduction, choose a cover and the book is sent to you, Mr. Anthologist.

It's particularly gratifying because the customizing feature ensures you get what you want (any Year's Best antho has stories that make someone wince).  350 pages worth, in fact.

A number of my stories are there, so I'm a happy puppy.  If you're an author and you're not on the site, go and submit your story to Nancy Fulda for review (it must have been previously published). 

So, apart from the anthos I'm editing or will be editing in the next couple of months (Philippine Speculative Fiction IV and the Fully Booked contest antho), I'm happily putting together another one online.

Come on over to The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf over at Bonifacio High Street, Global City, Taguig, on June 24, 2008, at 7:00 pm. I'll be talking about writing flash fiction (with just a tiny segue into creative non-fiction).

It's all part of Coffee Bean's contest. In addition to me, there'll be speakers for videography (Mike Cabardo) and photography.

Should be fun. See you there.

LitCritters! Here are the details for this weekend's open session.

When: June 21, 2008, 2PM

Where: Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, Robinsons Galleria

The readings:

Deadnauts by Ted Kosmatka
Falling Onto Mars by Geoffrey Landis
Conhoon and the Fairy Dancer by John Morressey

Make sure to read up - and then come on over :)

Hey, hey! The launch for The Night Monkeys: More Palanca Prize Winners for Children (Tahanan Books) is on June 30, 2008 at 7PM (that's a Monday). Come on over to Mary Grace Café at Serendra, Fort Bonifacio Global City and join the celebration.

Nikki Alfar has a story in the antho, as well as Raissa Rivera-Falgui, Natasha Vizcarra, Luis Katigbak, Yvette Tan, Cyan Abad-Jugo, Herb Fondevilla, Celeste Flores-Coscolluela, Honoel Ibardolaza, and Bing Sitoy.

Just look at that cover - I love it!

anthologies

I got a chance to see the TOC of the upcoming Exotic Gothic 2 (edited by Danel Olson from Ash-Tree Press) and I must say that I have silly smile plastered all over my face. Can’t tell you why though until the TOC is made public but it really made my day. It’s quite a thrill to be in company of these writers – authors I know only by name or because of their books.

I’m finishing my contribution for Ruey de Vera’s travel antho, to be published later this year or early next. My story is set in Hong Kong and I’m thinking of rewriting the entire thing (sigh) and doing some weird lovechild of spec fic and creative non-fiction (yes, I’m infected by Mia). When I look back at the time I lived in Hong Kong, I remember a mix of excitement and a deep longing for home. I did not believe in the concept of winter in Hong Kong, but recall cursing the day I disallowed my office manager from buying a heater. I do not do well in cold – I think my body retains a sense of disbelief. In terms of timestamping I’d use the run of Legion Lost, issues of which I bought from a comic book store along Sugar Street.

Another of my stories will appear in antho edited by Linda Panlilio (from Anvil). This is the story I agonized over before actually writing it, but with the proper approach, it wasn’t as difficult as I expected. There are times when it is not the characters, the conceit, the plot, the language or the structure that are problematic. Sometimes, it is the approach, some metatextual gobbledygook that has to do with how I’m grounded and just what the hell I’m trying to do (the easy answer, of course, is to “tell the story”, but come on).

Another story has been selected for an international “best SF”-type antho slated for publication next year. With these international anthos, I cannot help but wish I had a broader and deeper body of work. As it is, I write certain types of stories about certain things that reflect certain themes. I’m trying to do more, to expand my writing, which leads to experimental stories that do not always succeed. The important thing is to try – and to know when to move on (it’s not necessarily throwing in the towel, as in “goodbye, you shitty unloving difficult subgenre!”, but more of “you know, it’s not working for either of us right now; we need to take a break; it’s not you, it’s me”).

Three more stories are going to appear in antho edited by Cecilia Brainard. I submitted three when she asked for one (because I honestly wanted her to choose whichever she liked best, if any) and she took all three. All are short pieces, not exactly flash fic but more like rounded vignettes. My favorite among them was something I wrote when the daughter of a government official died in a fire; it made my heart ache.

Oh, and there’s another international antho in the making that I’ve been invited to contribute to. It should be both challenging and fun if all goes well.


editing

I’m editing the 2nd annual collection of fiction winners of the Neil Gaiman/Fully Booked competition from last year. I was on the board of judges with Peque Gallaga and Tony Perez and was quite happy with the results. The big winner was Joseph Nacino’s” Logovore”, of course, but we’ll be publishing a number of stories, including the other winners (I think Ian Casocot’s “The Sugilanon of Epefania’s Heartbreak” is a must-read for everyone under the sun) and finalists. I received the stories today and will begin editing and coordinating with the authors soon.

Nikki and I are editing Philippine Speculative Fiction IV and have been receiving submissions since I first announced the open call for submissions. It's our fourth year and I'm looking for something fresh and astounding.The deadline is September 15, 2008, so get down and write some spec fic and send it over. I’ll repost the call in another entry.


collection

I’m building up my inventory, thank goodness. I’m hoping to have at least 5 or 6 stories by next month – then I start submitting them to publications. As I mentioned earlier, some of my present writing is not my usual fare – which may be a problem for publishers or editors who expect a certain thing from me (offhand, it would be something to do with language). I’m happy that the LitCritters and I conform to a certain production schedule (yes, stories are products, says Marxist Dean) and thus I have a “real” deadline in addition to my personal deadlines.

All this is because I’m planning to have a second collection of short fiction by next year (actually, I’ll need to complete it and pitch the collection to the publisher this year to get it on publication schedule for next year). I’d prefer to have previously published most, if not all, of the stories that will appear in my second collection. But of course reality will trump whatever preferences I have, haha.

For the second collection, right now, I have:

Strange Weather
Chasing Aurora
Something Like That
The Many Loves of Ramil Alonzo
I, D.I.
Messiah
Ever, After
Survey of Artifacts Found in the Derelict Vessel The Malaya
Remembrance
Sunboy
Princess Ribbit (with Nikki Alfar)
Poor, Poor Luisa (maybe)

+ inventory sold by October/November

+ unlisted stories in other athos appearing by December, at the latest (all the other anthos get right of first printing, of course)

So I think there should be enough for a book. I’m hoping Andrew will illustrate the interiors like he did for “The Kite of Stars and other stories”.


novel

And somewhere somehow somewhen I need to make time to actually write the damn thing. My initial attempts were stymied by overanalysis and poor time management (and the fact that short fiction was top priority). And anxiety, of course. Worries about the sophomore slump, etc. But I try not to think about all that. The new/old angsty decision: literary vs. genre produces the same answer within me: why not both?

Part of me wants to take a long string of weeks off and just get this done - but life intrudes in the best possible way.

So we’ll see. As usual.

I've been loyal to Blogger since forever, but I find certain features on Multiply and Facebook quite entertaining and useful. My big issue with Facebook is the lack of a blog space, but now it seems with this application (Blog It) I may have issues no longer - so I'm trying it out. I'm updating from Facebook and this should also appear in my Blogger blog. Sadly, there seems to be no direct link to my Multiply account, but we'll see how this goes.

The holy grail for me would be a single site that integrates all my blogs, permits me access to my webmail, has the fun and extensibility of Facebook, and the good bits of Multiply. i need everything aggregated so I don't need to skip around and update in several places.

Is there such a thing?

I'm sharpening my game notes for tomorrow and it got me thinking.

For many years now, I've been the GM (or Gamemaster) of an extended series of role-playing games, with intricate storylines that have taken many years to tell. I love fantasy and I love acting and I love telling stories, so it is an activity I relish - even if, at times, I get fatigued.

Why do I get tired? Well, fundamentally, I do three things: creatives, design and development.


The Creatives part is all about story. This includes the master plot/s, all the characters and characterizations, back stories, and such. This would be a daunting task on its own, especially since my style of creatives favors huge casts, multiple settings and a tremendous amount of drama (as well as comedic elements, of course). My players (changing in names and numbers from high school to college and beyond) who dwell in the world play only their characters - everyone (and everything) else is me. For someone who deprioritizes plot as a discourse element in his fiction writing, I revel in it in the game. I employ a variety of techniques such as seeding, prolepsis, analepsis, vignettes, solo focus as well as dramatic tools (I am still a playwright, after all) for dialogue and so on. This is the part I love best. Since I do not like linear games, I tend to construct plot skeins that go in different tangents; in my world, things go on with or without player participation - while the players may be central to parts of the story, they are not central to everything. My disorganized notes have the ability to delight and dismay me. Since I jot down thoughts as they come and develop them in a very general timeline, there are instances when I recover something I wrote that simply does not make sense anymore, typed in Deanish shorthand (the past Dean assumes the future Dean will get it). Sometimes though, I surprise myself by unearthing a multipage document that reveals, in detail, family histories, love lives and tragedies, complete with names, dates and family trees (those are the times I bless my past self - and wonder where the past Dean found the time to do such a thing).

The Design part of the game has to do with things like magic, artifacts, cultures, cities, philosophies and such. For the ongoing game (named "Imperium"), I created a whole slew of shards with abilities, personas, histories and organizations. For an earlier game, I created a new system of magic, crafting 66 orders of magic with spell lists and techniques. I like the Design part a lot but it isn't my favorite - because I'd rather be telling the story than fiddling with the things in it. But design is very important. A great degree of world building is design-related, and inconsistent design sucks. Thus, I have copious (and terribly sorted) notes on everything that I think is of interest in the game. My design philosophy is simple - it must be interesting to me and to my players, and it must dovetail into the story.

The Development part is my weakness. This is where I dump the rules for the things I've designed - how things work in terms of game systems (whether adopted, adapted or homegrown). This is number crunching, character stats, multiple character sheets, die rolls, charts, tables and so on. The sheer tedium bores the story teller in me (and even the designer) - but this part of gaming is quite important because a system creates consistency, and consistency of experience in vital in gaming. I needed to learn how to put some sort of order in the chaos of my creation (development needs to iron out all the ideas that I come up with, especially when I'm in intuitive idea mode with no patience to look at the small stuff).

In my life as a writer and as a businessman, I've found that I've been able to utilize (and even monetize) all three of my GM skills.

In business, the creatives part is obvious - one of the companies I own makes money based on ideas executed in terms of word and imagery. The design part has helped me handle complex business challenges that require structure and rationales - like nationwide campaigns with different handles for specific doors. Development - my hated number crunching - has proven itself when I deal with financials, and surprise, surprise, I can actually understand income statements, gross margins, percentage contribution of sales and other otherwise braindeadening things. And I am almost never intimidated in meetings with Big Names, because I've roleplayed even bigger entities (haha).

In writing, creatives is once again obvious (although I now ask myself why I veer away from plot and favor other discourse elements in my own fiction). Design weaves into the world-building elements of my stories, but more importantly, permits me to think of story and story elements in a metatextual manner. Development has helped in the business side of my writing, when I act as a publisher, with numbers and logistics to juggle.

And the funny thing is that role-playing games have continuously taken a beating in terms of negative perception. For me, all it has done is to help in my businesses and my writing - as well as provide endless hours of storytelling delight with friends.

This Saturday, the LitCritters will hold the Open Session at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf at Robinsons Galleria at 2PM.

The readings are:

The Fantasy Writer's Assistant by Jeffrey Ford
The Man on the Threshold by Jorge Luis Borges
The Man with the Scale in his Head by Eman Quotah

Hope to see you there.

I started feeling ill Sunday afternoon. I got a clogged nose and a mild headache which were gradually revealed to be symptoms of the flu. I should've known it was coming since this happens to me around this time every year. I missed three days of work, unable to think very well as I alternately got the chills and sweated like there was no tomorrow. I kept rehydrating and replenishing all the salts and stuff I lost, consuming vast quantities of juices, athletic drinks, chai latte and flavored water, in an attempt not defeat the stupid flu. I cursed the fact that once again I did not bother to get a flu shot - gah. Of course poor Sage and Nikki caught the flu too. It's even harder for Nikki because of the pregnancy.

I was feeling better last night, but woke up at 3AM with the beginnings of the conjunctivitis thing going around the building. Which was just the last straw. It was too much. My placid, I-am-sick demeanor was replaced by rage at the injustice of it all. "Sore Eyes" is my true bane (along with really bad food poisoning that paralyzes me). Why? Because with every other normal ailment, I can read. Not so with sore eyes that reduce vision to a thin painful crud-encrusted sliver.

But this time I was somewhat prepared. I scoured the room for the medicine I had purchased when I thought I had conjunctivitis earlier this year (when I thought a leaf had sheared off my retina). I found the small bottle of the miracle elixir Vigamox, which promised bacterial genocide, then dosed my eyes with drops of moxifloaxin and went back to sleep. At 6AM, I repeated the dosage, delighting in the discomfort I imagined the bacteria to be undergoing - the atomic destruction of their evil civilization. By 9AM, my eyes were fine.

So I actually managed to drag myself to office to get some work done. My lost three days did not stop the requirements and timing of deliverables from clients so there's a lot of catching up to do. And the fact that this coming Monday is a non-working holidays means another day without designers and such.

Back to the grind, yes, but not for the entire day. I think I need to rest a little bit more before.

Nikki, Vin and I had a great time last night at Mogwai. The film adaptation of my play was the main event, but seeing old friends and sharing food and wine added to my enjoyment of the evening. Direk Rico Gutierrez immediately plied us with baked tahong and red wine and we ordered variations on rumaki (while my companions blissed out on Molten Chocolate Cake). I was happy to see Francis and Andoy and Augie (nasaan ka Earl?), as well as other friends old and new. In particular, I was happy to meet Eon who came with a couple of my books.

The film is called "Room 180" because of Direk Rico's decision to deploy proscenium stage techniques, permitting the camera only a 180 degree angle, which was quite effective. The actors peformed very well, and for the first time in a long time, I felt bad for Danny at the end. This got me to thinking about the difference between theater and film. Staged, the play is supposed to feel more "real". But Direk Rico's treatment, complete with Chekovian pause and extreme close up, affected me more. I don't know if this is because I watch more films now than plays; or because of the ability of film to bring me so close to the actors (the limitation in plays is that you can only see from where you're sitting and can easily miss delicate nuances of facial expression depending on blocking). I discussed these things with Wanggo and Paulo after the show as I tried to articulate this oddness. In a way, I feel disassociated with my text. Of course it's familiar, I did write it after all (and much kudos to the excellent screenplay of Augie!), but that was way back in 1990. I was talking to Nikki and Vin as to why this play retains the interest of various people because I couldn't understand why (because, perhaps, I know it inside out). But interestingly enough, I was riveted by the film treatment, because it was so... different and more intimate.

Mogwai's upstairs theater was also a welcome surprise. We were asked to remove our shoes before entering the intimate carpeted viewing room strewn with cushions and pillows of various sizes - which made for quite the organic "sit-in" feeling.

Thanks again to Rico, Augie, Francis, Andoy and Earl for a lovely film and a wonderful evening.

One of my most staged plays is "Short Time", which won the Palanca way back in 1991. It's come to life as a film - "Room 180", translated by the incredible Augie Rivera and directed by the intrepid Rico Gutierrez, and stars Earl Ignacio, Andoy Ranay and Francis Makil.

Come on over to Mogwai Cafe (#62 & 63 Cubao Expo in what was formerly the Marikina Shoe Expo - much has changed and it is like an artist enclave now) near Ali Mall, Cubao on May 26, 7PM and watch it with me (it'll be my first viewing as well).

Manila Prints Sydney and Manila releases 'Green Blood and Other Stories', a collection of short stories by a talented new author Erwin Cabucos.

Fifteen short stories exploring a range of themes, including intercultural marriage, racism, social justice, bullying, religious beliefs and growing up Filipino are packed in this new literary feast.

Many of the characters are children, observing and challenging stereotypes and ideological positions that have been normalised in our society.

"Why is God white?" asks a character in one of the stories. The priest is left with no adequate answer.

"It is a book that you can relate to as a Filipino and as an Australian. The stories have been woven into a world of two cultures which may be a very good tool for Literacy, SOSE, Anthropology teaching and learning in Australia," says Myrla Prianes, a Brisbane-based teacher and a community leader.

Casting a racist slur over our immigrant neighbour's smelly food is represented in one of the stories, laying bare themes of racial snobbery, prejudice and persecution of those are different or who dare to be different.

Cabucos is a teacher of secondary English in Brisbane and when not teaching, he writes short fiction which find their ways in various anthologies and publications including 'The Philippine Graphic Magazine and the Philippines Free Press. One of Cabucos’ stories ‘The Bleached Hills of Cotabato" appears this month at a newly released anthology ‘Salu-Salo: In Conversation with Filipino-Australian Writers’ which will be launched on 25 May at the Sydney Writer’s Festival.

'Green Blood and Other Stories', ISBN 978-0-9804827-0-6, is now available in the Philippines through Manila Prints.

The complete version of "Sunboy" appears in this week's issue of the Philippines Free Press. It's spec fic in only the most general possible sense of the term (okay, it's domestic realism, but try it out).

"In the Dim Plane" appears in the latest issue of the Digest of Philippine Genre Stories.

I'm wrapping up around a few more stories, slated for publication in a number of anthos year.

I know I keep yapping about the heat, but really, it has been quite a feat to even find the will to write during the daytime. The humidity is also quite a bitch, and I find myself needing to rehydrate every do often. I find my mind drifting away, hijacked by thoughts of cooler climes.

Jerry loves the sun, fucking loves it like no one’s business. Mornings, he stays by the window in the living room, tracking the sun over the course of hours, adjusting his position on the floor incrementally, minute by minute, like a beatific sunflower in slow motion. Lunchtime finds him in the kitchen where the kitchen jalousies convert the sunlight into blurred gems of muted colors splayed on the floor and walls, transforming the metal cookware into magical artifacts. Afternoons, he begins to cry. At first, just moisture in his eyes as he watches the sun go lower and lower from his vantage point in the garage, then as the fading brilliance turns into shades of orange, he mutters to himself, exactly what who knows. Sunboy sits on his wheelchair amid the skeletal remains of Dad’s Ford Fiera, he mourns the dissolution of his solar empire, his agitated mumblings rising in volume as he weeps inconsolably.

Mama and I gave up trying to comfort him at sunset, surrendered a long time ago when we realized that there was really nothing we could do, nothing we could say to persuade him that it was only temporary, that there would always be another dawn, another day, to look forward to, that the sun would be back, back in the fucking sky for him to love and adore all over again. We just leave him alone, switching on the garage fluorescent when it becomes too dark for us to see him, and wait for him to come back into the house.

Sunboy rolls in, a zombie on a second-hand wheelchair, head bowed low, snot running down his nose, his face muddied by the track of tears. He joins us at the dining table and eats his food quietly, for even sun lovers know they need something in their stomachs – at least in that regard Jerry never gives us problems. When dinner is done, he waits for me to carry him to his bedroom. There were times when I didn’t want to pick up his skinny frame, just a bag of bones, but it became routine and because it became routine it became somewhat okay to do. Besides, he’d grown too big for Mama and there’s really just me.

Jerry isn’t afraid of the dark, doesn’t give a shit if the lights are on or off. He just sits there, whispering whatever it is he says to himself to get him through the night. It’s like some kind of punishment for him, for failing to keep the sun alive with his love. Having stubbed my toes more times than I care to remember carrying him into his room, I pause at the entrance, shift his head from one shoulder to another and turn the lights on. If the sun suddenly really vanished, Jerry’s room would provide untold generations that followed with a shrine of memory. Posters cover the wall, each one of them of the sun, from high resolution photos from spacecraft to artist’s renditions, all of them blazing, shining and impossible to ignore. Mama got him sun-themed bed sheets, the crappy kiddie kind that has Mr. Sun with a fucking smile. Jerry adores them and refuses to have them changed. We had a small problem with that until I came up with the obvious solution and got him another set so Mama or I can change his beddings while he communes with his superheated friend in the sky.

When I set him down he turns his face toward me.

“I’m going to die tonight,” he says. Or “Goodbye, goodbye.” Or “The sun needs me.” Or some shit like that. Once, just once, I wish he’d say something like, “Thanks for carrying me, Kuya.” Or, “I’m sorry I fucked up your life and Mama’s too.” Or, “Hey, this is the last time you’ll have to do anything for me because, you know what? I’m cured! I’m normal! I can wipe my own ass from this moment on.” I wish.

Tonight Sunboy just says, “I’m going after the sun.”

And I say “Right.” Then, “I’ll be back to brush your teeth.”

Everyone is invited to join us as we talk about stories and writing this Saturday, the 26th, at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf (Emerald Avenue, Ortigas Center). We'll be discussing the following stories (join the LitCritters group and download reading copies):

Thousand Year Eve by Sarge Lacuesta
A Godmother's Gift by January Mortimer
A Princess of the Earth by Mike Resnick


This past few weeks, we read, critiqued, blissed out on - or went on terrifying rants against - the following stories:

Giving Birth by Margaret Atwood
Lambing Season by Molly Gloss
The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde
The Gentle Brush of Wings by David Wilson
Appleless by Aimee Bender
Save Me Plz by David Barr Kirtley
Jack's House by Jay Lake
The Fool, the Stick, and the Princess by Rachel Pollack
Found Objects by Jennifer Egan
A Place I've Never Been by David Leavitt
Fire-bringer by Nick Mamatas
Linkworlds by Will McIntosh
A Light in Troy by Sarah Monette
There's No Light Between Floors by Paul Tremblay
Man in the Mountain by JM McDermott

We love to read, we love to write and believe we learn how to write better stories by both reading and writing. Discussions about stories and writing should not be boring and stuffy and only for the privileged theorists - it should be fun and always looked forward to, something enjoyable, educational and social (reading is private, talking isn't).

Finished taping segment for 'Korina Today", a talk show of Korina Sanchez. We talked about spec fic, "The Middle Prince" and writing, and I was freezing my balls off (nobody told me that the studio would be so cold). With me were fellow contributors to Jing Hidalgo's antho "Tales of Enchantment and Fantasy" Carljoe Javier and Samantha Exchavez. I'm delighted that Jing's book was featured. My hope, of course, is that it encourages more people to write the literature of the fantastic. The show airs today at 6PM and 11PM today, ANC.

I also got invited by Linda Panlilio to contribute to her next antho (her previous antho, "The Manila We Knew", won the National Book Award last year over -sob- PSF2), which has a very interesting premise and an formidable roster of contributors - but it should be fun.