I received the latest copy of Foundation: The International Review of Science Fiction in the mail yesterday. Two copies, actually, because I have a piece in it, “How Many Miles to Babylon: Researching ‘The Bordello in Faerie.’” Which is, just as the title implies, an account of my investigation of the nonexistent institution at the heart of my my unsettlingly explicit fantasy.
Here's the opening paragraph:
Some years ago I wrote a story titled “The Bordello in Faerie”, in which a young man in a weary old redbrick factory town takes to crossing the river to visit the eponymous establishment and over the course of a few seasons learns some hard truths about himself. This sort of tale usually glosses over the actual sexual acts taking place in such places. But for artistic reasons, I thought it worthwhile to be explicit. When my friend and fellow fantasist Greer Gilman asked to read the newly-finished typescript, I cautioned her about the graphic nature of its depictions and handed it over. The next day, returning the text, she drew herself up straight and in an amused simulation of shock, said, “Sir!!!”Alas, if you want to read more, you'll have to dig up a copy of the Volume 43, Number 118, Autumn 2014 issue. It's not a long article, but I thought it was of interest because performed my research entirely via lucid dreaming. Surely there must be other writers who have done this, but it seems to me that this particular technique is underreported. So I did my bit.
And Speaking of Short Fiction Day . . .
My friend Sally Grotta, of virtual publisher Pixel Hall Press, asked me to help spread the word: this Sunday, December 21, will be the second annual Celebrate Short Fiction Day, a holiday invented by author Nancy Christie. They're hoping to make this a big thing, eventually. But in the meantime, they'll be celebrating the day by giving away free e-stories.
You can read more about it at the Pixel Hall Press site here.
And on Monday . . .
It's an Annual Holiday Rerun Tradition! I'll be reposting "The Parable of the Creche Scene," a true tale of the real meaning of Christmas and who, surprisingly, kidnapped it here in my neighborhood of Roxborough.
Be there or be not-jolly.
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