Author: Trace

World Fantasy Convention 2010

Here is what I hope is a pithy little post about this exciting event, as I am still recovering.

This gal is as pleased as can be to have attended her very first World Fantasy Convention this past week in Columbus, Ohio. Highlights: I reconnected with good friends from Clarion West, made some good contacts, and enjoyed fun facetime with writers and editors I’d only previously met online (or not at all), and attended some interesting panels and readings.

WFC lessons learned:

  • Kij Johnson’s readings are NOT to be missed.
  • If your Twitter pic actually resembles you, people may recognize you!
  • Everyone should buy and read the anthology The Way of the Wizard (the one edited by John Joseph Adams, not that thing by Deepak Chopra).
  • Columbus as a city is not as dreary as I’d been led to believe (well, not quite).
  • In October, an old leather jacket is not warm enough for a skinny girl from Florida.
  • Everyone (or at least those who like zombies) should buy and read the collection Rigor Amortis.
  • Ted Chiang apparently always looks dapper, and is too shy to talk to fangirls in the elevator.
  • Chicks in chain mail are ridiculous (see photo), but hilarious to intoxicated people.
  • Brian Lumley really just wants a cigarette,  if you have one.

I saw why this con is recommended for writers above conventions that support writer activity but remain focused on fans, costuming and entertainment/media. This is primarily an publishing industry con. This is where writers want to be to network with folks from Tor, Del Rey, Nightshade, Edge Publishing, and the like. Pro and semi-pro publishers were represented, and a surprising mix of people mingle at after-parties which seem to be what the con is really all about. Oh, and the World Fantasy awards are handed out.

I’m being a tiny bit flip about the experience, but it truly was worthwhile. I handed out as well as collected a number of business cards (sort of a party game, and not without very real etiquette and papercut hazards) and made useful and stimulating connections. I learned more about the lively industry that is sci-fi and fantasy publishing. I came home exhausted and probably with more information than I can ever process.

I’m already scheming to attend the 2011 convention.

On Utopia and Dystopia

Utopian narrative is one passion of mine. Any casual mention of this topic, and I’m forced to exercise restraint. I tighten my lips and fold my arms to choke down the urge to launch into a one-woman animated jabberfest, complete with arm-waving.

During these displays, unwitting participants attempt to interject, sometimes to complain, that utopia is overly idealistic and ultimately dystopian because utopian equality depends on sameness and social control. Kinda like communism. It looks good on paper. This happens to be true, in my opinion, but more on that later.

I also hear that utopias, what Bruce McAllister has characterized as “those perfect societies we keep making in fiction that never quite ring true,” are no fun to read about because they make the reader feel inferior (shocked and dismayed expression) or they are too perfect to be relevant to our chaotic world. Readers would much rather chow down on a gritty but hearty dystopia, sprinkled with a bit of violence, that shows our current chaos to be comfortable.

Pandora, a character in Ursula K. Le Guin’s Always Coming Home, feels similarly. “I never did like smart-ass utopians,” she says. “Always so much healthier and saner and sounder and fitter and kinder and tougher and wiser and righter than me and my family and friends. People who have the answers are boring, niece. Boring, boring, boring.”

I’ll admit that I enjoy dystopian tales (and right about here I start waving my arms around), but always dig for the utopian heart. The two are in tension, you see, not in opposition, kissing cousins that illuminate the impulse towards utopia and the tricky business of the endeavor. They reflect one another.

Take, for example, Octavia Butler’s The Parable of the Sower. This novel of the near future, captured in Butler’s characteristically sparse prose, is a landscape of fear, survival, and social collapse (dystopia) and longing (utopia). The narrator, Lauren Oya Olamina, is a young woman who leads a motley collection of survivors out of post-apocalyptic suburbia in search of a place to call home. Along the journey, Lauren, daughter of a Christian preacher, cultivates the seed of a new religion based on the acceptance of change rather than pre-determination.

This is a novel about the longing for utopia rather than the realization of it. In that way, it’s still about utopia. It utilizes a quest thematic to do a special something very well: it problematizes more traditional notions of utopia as a goal of human social and political life.

The social order is constantly shifting, and engagement with problematic elements happens at the borders of difference. We aren’t all the same, and there’s no one perfect society that we can point to as the answer. The goal, a safe home for everyone, is a moving target that must be sought out, occupied, examined, and then, re-negotiated. It can’t become stagnant or entrenched, or it replicates the old order, builds new barriers.

And then, I probably explain that this book is such a favorite of mine that I named one of my cats after the main character, Olamina.

It’s a somewhat embarrassing level of passion.

Ideation (Making Narrative Happen)

A while back, before I considered myself a writer, I thought, “if only I had some good ideas.” Now, I have an over-abundance of ideas, and I’m thinking a great deal more about process, where ideas come from and how they are developed. To my mind, ideas come in two basic forms:

The Ah-ha: this comes to mind in dreams or due to random encounters, or seemingly from nowhere at all. When I get these, I leap up and grab a pen, or quickly make a voice memo, before the idea slips away. These ideas apparently can’t tolerate the distractions of real life. Someone really should conduct a study wherein electrodes are attached to writers (kinda like research on meditating Buddhist monks) to see what is going on when this happens.

The What-if: a seed that is consciously pursued. I sit down and ask specific questions meant to generate possible ideas for use. I make a list of concepts or items. Maybe a useful notion comes out of this, and maybe not. The key here, I think, is to throttle your inner editor and entertain anything that comes to mind, no matter how absurd it seems. It may be that the more absurd the idea appears, the better.

At Clarion West, I worked concepts from both categories into narratives, and if I got stuck, I did something that my pre-CW self may have thought unthinkable. I went to the nearest library (I was lucky to be within walking distance of the absolutely gorgeous and inspiring reading room in the Suzzallo Library at the U of Washington), and grabbed a random book from the shelf. Historical events, animals, gender theory, poetry, or any topic at all might serve to spark linkage in a story, give me setting details or provide background for a character.

A new short in progress enjoyed a similar boost yesterday when I happened upon a book full of disturbing images of collectible dolls from the turn of the century.

Elements for ideation can come from random sources; it’s what you do with them that makes narrative happen.

On Veganism

During my recent stint at the Clarion West Writers Workshop, I decided to return to veganism. I passed several years as a vegan in the late nineties (which feels odd to refer to as a distinct and past decade), during which time I carried a child to term, worked a stressful job where I barely had time to eat let alone cook, and found myself surrounded by unsympathetic friends and family. To top it off, I lived in a small town where few resources for vegetarians existed, let alone shops and restaurants for individuals living a vegan lifestyle. The internet wasn’t a big part of my life then either, as far as that now-ubiquitous resource is concerned.

At that time in my life, I chose veganism as a strictly ethical consideration. I didn’t wear leather and would essentially go without eating or eat junk to avoid eating animal products.

With all these factors working against me, I eventually gave up veganism and even the less-strict vegetarian path.

So, why go back? Several reasons compel me.

  • I’ve been inspired by fellow Clarionite Lauren Dixon, who is a long-time committed vegan and a positive, upbeat proponent of this choice. I watched her struggle with the controlled setting of the workshop with grace and patience (meals were provided for us, but eventually, several of us opted for local cuisine instead).
  • Living in Seattle made it easy to be vegan because of the easy availability of food choices. I was able to transition back with relative simplicity in that environment.
  • My family and friends are supportive now. Some of this has to do with the fact that I have better friends than before, and the rest has to do with desire on the part of family members to eat healthier.
  • It feels right, physically. I ate a lot of meat in the first week or so of the workshop because it was constantly provided, and my health suffered. When I switched, that changed. I just plain feel better.
  • And lastly, I’ve returned to veganism because I can. I live in the same dinky town, but resources have expanded. I’ve educated myself more, and I’m more responsible about my health than before (ie, I’m not trying to live off of fries and candy anymore).

Overall, it feels like the right thing to do, and I’m glad I made that choice. The hold-out, but not a deal-breaker, is Mr. B, whose penchant for mac and cheese has yet to be tamed by non-dairy options. But I’m working on it.

You can follow my vegan exploits, along with a those of a few buds of mine, on Twitter. Sometimes, there are even pictures.

On Roller Derby (more non-writing activities)


Too chicken to play all-female flat track roller derby myself, but it is awesome to be a spectator. I’ve recently been introduced to this team sport, and my current fav is the Switchblade Sisters, a team in the Tampa Bay Derby Darlins league.

The officials are almost as much fun to watch as the flat track action itself. I spent a fair amount of time at the last bout on September 4th trying to capture the antics of Stella Knockout (derby names are fun). She skidded on her knees on the edge of the track (a few feet from me) after every other play like she was sliding into home plate. Never quite got the shot I wanted, though. As seen here, she rocks the referee uniform.

I’m really not one for sports. I was forced to play team sports as an adolescent and hated it all. Now, I tend toward individual or partnered recreational activities, not competitive ones, and I don’t watch sports on television. The entertaining aspect of roller derby (for me) has a great deal to do with empowering women, and the majority of spectators are women and girls. I plan say a bit more about this and the appealing third-wave punk aesthetic, too, when I’m not so sleepy; women-centered space can be creative and interesting to occupy. The number of supportive males in the sport, in terms of both audience and officials, is not too shabby from what I’ve seen in this league.

For a fun and informative look at roller derby, check out the excellent documentary Blood on the Flat Track: The Rise of the Rat City Roller Girls.

What Else?

My family and friends must be getting tired of hearing about my writing life because someone recently asked, “So, what else are you doing? What have you been up to?”

What I’m up to is bouldering and buildering, veganing and watching roller derby (but not all at the same time).

About bouldering:

I discovered this with the help of a friend and freaked over it, a little. Who knew climbing around on walls could be so awesome? And it builds muscle like crazy. The crummy thing is, the nearest gym is an hour away.

So, just for fun sometimes I gotta builder. In other words, climbing around in places I probably shouldn’t like a monkey. Mind you, I’m a novice at both of these activities, but this one is particularly appealing to the juvenile delinquent (by which, of course, I mean “free spirit”) that lives in the corner of my heart. A good friend is an influence in this regard.

So here I am climbing around on stuff behind the post office. Postal people might not appreciate this activity in the same way I do, so I’m buildering after hours. My son thought it was a hoot and joined right in. Is this a negative thing?


This silliness is abetted by the fact that I just acquired a pair of Vibram Sprints, five-fingered toe shoes that garner weird looks everywhere they go because, frankly, they are odd-looking. But they give you all kinds of grip, and they’re comfy. I walked a couple of miles in them today, rode a bike and then set a bad example at the post office after dark. Good times.

Tomorrow: veganing and roller derby. Those need their own posts, methinks.

An Acceptance!

I’m am thrilled and amazed to report that a submission of mine has been accepted for publication.

In a fun publication, too. Recently, excellent super-duo Ann and Jeff Vandermeer announced a call for micro-submissions to be included in their latest, The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiousities, which will feature such cool people as the marvelous and friendly-in-person Ted Chiang, China Mieville, Holly Black, Garth Nix and Minister Faust, to name a few.

You can read my submission on the blog comments here.

Congrats to all, and a big thank you to the Vandermeers for their consideration.

The Single Best Thing

One of my Clarion West buds just sent me a critique of my latest effort at a short story. A really solid crit. And that may be the Single Best Thing to come out of the CW experience.

Not only do I have great friends who keep in touch and tweet pictures of their lunches to me, who chat with me about theology and life and finding fulfillment, but we are also lending generous hands to each other in our continuing work.

Even better, we’ll get a chance to further that effort when we meet up again at events like World Fantasy Con.

Thanks, peeps! You made my day.