Tag Archives: Edgar Allan Poe

Would the Julie & Julia Formula Work for You?

If you’re struggling as a writer, not achieving the success you imagined, Catherine Baab-Muguira has a solution for you. She calls it the Julie and Julia Formula. Does that formula work?

In a wonderful blogpost on Jane Friedman’s site, Ms. Baab-Muguira described the formula. At its essence, she says “you can reach your dreams by loving another person’s work.”

Give your obsession free reign, she says, and your book will write itself, fueled—even supercharged—by your passion.

That formula worked for Julie Powell and her obsession with Julia Child—several books and a movie resulted. It worked for Ms. Baab-Muguira and her obsession with Edgar Allan Poe. It also worked for several other authors whom she lists in her post. I’m happy for the success of those authors, and find it easy to see why the formula can work.

Most writers choose subjects or settings or genres over which they obsess a bit. But the J&J Formula is more than just ‘write what you know.’ It’s more like ‘channel your passion for another person (often another writer) into a sort of tribute book.’

The formula can work because:

  • You’re an expert on, and confident about, your subject;
  • Your passion for the subject will infuse your work, creating enthusiasm in the reader; and
  • That same passion will sustain you throughout the writing project, helping you to power through the down times.

However, just because the J&J Formula sometimes works, that doesn’t guarantee success in your case (nor does Ms. Baab-Muguira claim it will). I believe two factors determine whether the formula will work for you:

  • The popularity of the person (or subject) you’re obsessing over; but mostly,
  • How well you write

As I said, your obsession will suffuse your writing, resulting in passionate prose. However, if you obsess over someone or something obscure or uninteresting to others, you’ll have to make up for that through truly strong or unique writing. (I’m thinking here of the famous honey badger video).

Conversely, even if you obsess over a very popular person, poor writing won’t gain you many readers.

In short, the J&J Formula may work, but don’t think of it as a sure-fire path to mega-sales.

In my own case, perceptive followers of my blog know of my passion for the novels of Jules Verne. However, you’ll search the best-seller lists in vain for any mention of my name (so far). Is that due to Verne’s obscurity, to my lack of writing talent, to my poor execution of the J&J Formula, or to some defect in the Formula itself? Who knows?

My own formula, for what it’s worth, comprises four words—write well and often. I believe good writing tends to get noticed. Even if it doesn’t, you’ll be proud of having written it. The J&J Formula may prove a good way for you to write well and often, but it’s not the only way.

If you’re writing a lot with nothing to show for all that work, give the Julie and Julia Formula a try. Perhaps you’ll succeed with it, as others have. If not, well, you got no rose-garden promises from—

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 3, 2023Permalink

Jules Verne’s Impact on Undersea Fiction

The publication of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea led to a boom in books about undersea adventures. But the boom didn’t occur immediately and Verne wasn’t the sole cause.

Before explaining all that, I’ll mention an upcoming anthology of short stories titled 20,000 Leagues Remembered, scheduled for release on the 150th anniversary of Verne’s submarine novel. Until April 30, fellow editor Kelly A. Harmon and I are accepting short stories inspired by that novel. For more details and to submit your story, click here or on the cover image.

Verne wasn’t the first to venture into undersea fiction, though the predecessor works are fantasy, not science fiction. The list is brief. If I stretch the definition of undersea fiction, it includes the Biblical story of Jonah, Edgar Allan Poe’s 1831 poem “The City in the Sea,” and Theophile Gautier’s 1848 novel Les Deux Etoiles (The Two Stars). At least the latter included a submarine.

As shown by the graph, many books involving submarines appeared in the years following Verne’s undersea novel. The vast majority of these were intended for what we now call the Young Adult market, and included works by Harry Collingwood, Roy Rockwood, Luis Senarens, Victor G. Durham, Stanley R. Matthews, and Victor Appleton.

In a similar manner, Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864) preceded an explosion of novels with subterranean settings. To a lesser extent, these also included many YA works.

But notice a curious thing about the two curves. The rise in subterranean fiction occurs earlier and starts its upward trend earlier than does the curve for undersea fiction.

I have three theories to explain this.

  1. The most obvious reason is that Journey to the Center was published six years before Twenty Thousand Leagues. That six-year gap doesn’t explain it all, however.
  2. I believe other authors, after reading Twenty Thousand Leagues, were daunted by the prospect of imitating that novel. To write credibly about submarines required knowledge most writers lacked. However, subterranean fiction required no geological expertise and no vehicle. Moreover, the writer’s underground setting could include any fantasy elements imaginable.
  3. I think the later peak in submarine novels had less to do with Verne than it did with the introduction of real submarines into the world’s navies. With actual submarines becoming familiar to readers, authors could pattern their fictional vehicles after real ones.

Neither of these mountain-shaped curves is due solely to Verne’s works. They both coincide with a boom in publishing adventure fiction of all kinds, not just undersea and subterranean. A drop in publishing costs, a rise in disposable income, a recognition that young people craved to read—all these factors attracted writers and publishers to new opportunities.

Still, I don’t want to understate Verne’s impact on undersea fiction either. Prior to Twenty Thousand Leagues, such works were fantasies. Afterward, they were either science fiction or real-life adventure stories.

After the publication of Twenty Thousand Leagues, it became the standard to which later submarine novels got compared. Even today, 150 years later, if you ask people to name a submarine novel, most likely they will either answer with The Hunt for Red October, or Verne’s book.

I just can’t help this fascination with stories of the sea. After all, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 23, 2020Permalink

The Story Behind “Reconnaissance Mission”

Pole to Pole Publishing just released Not Far From Roswell, an anthology of dark short stories involving aliens in New Mexico. My tale called “Reconnaissance Mission” appears there, and you’re about to discover the story behind that story.

When the submission call went out, I figured I’d pass. I don’t often write dark stories or alien visitation fiction. My intellectual side had moved on, but my muse grabbed it by the collar and said, “Come back here. I’ve got an idea. Hold my beer.”

Over the years, I’ve learned to listen to my muse, even when she’s drunk. With alcohol on her breath, she whispered her idea about an alternate version of history where Edgar Allan Poe visits New Mexico and encounters something. My intellect argued back: “I don’t think Poe ever visited that area, and the state of New Mexico didn’t even exist in his time.” The muse replied, “Details, shmetails. Those are your problems.”

My crack research team uncovered some interesting and useful tidbits about Poe. Before going to West Point (yes, he was a cadet, though he didn’t graduate), he had enlisted in the Army in 1827. At that time, many of our Army’s enlisted personnel were recent immigrants from Ireland and Germany, so Poe probably stood out. His regiment was posted to Fort Moultrie in Charleston, South Carolina. Highly intelligent and a quick learner, Poe became the battery’s “artificer.”

The U.S. Army doesn’t have much need of artificers these days, but back then “Tiffys” were vital. They calculated explosive loads and fuse lengths for artillery shells. Any computational error could result in a missed shot, a premature detonation, or even death of the gun crew.

Poe was skilled, though, and rose to the rank of Sergeant Major. His commanding officer, Lieutenant Howard, recognized his talent and urged Poe to apply for the Military Academy. Upon acceptance, Poe entered West Point in 1829.

All that is true. But, my muse asked, what if…? What if the Army ordered one platoon to conduct a clandestine mission to Santa Fe de Nuevo México, then a territory of Mexico? What if their mission had been to assess the military strengths and potential threats of the Mexicans and the Apaches?

Further, what if the platoon encountered something unusual, something that might explain Poe’s later writings, something that seemed very…well…alien?

Then, as is usual for me, the story wrote itself. It’s an origin story for Poe, one that could have happened. Well, there’s no evidence it didn’t happen. As they say, the truth is out there.

You can purchase Not Far From Roswell here. Knowing the fine editors at Pole to Pole Publishing, I’m certain all the stories in that anthology are terrific.

Yes, I know. I owe my muse a beer. Without her, I really wouldn’t be—

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 15, 2019Permalink

What Makes 20,000 Leagues a Classic?

Literary scholars consider Jules Verne’s novel 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to be a classic. Why? Let’s dive deep into that subject.

First, as a reminder, I have teamed up with the talented writer and editor Kelly A. Harmon of Pole to Pole Publishing with the intent of producing Twenty Thousand Leagues Remembered, an anthology of stories paying tribute to Verne’s submarine novel. Our antho will open for submissions soon, as detailed here, and will launch on June 20, 2020, the sesquicentennial of 20,000 Leagues.

What makes a classic book, and why include 20,000 Leagues in that category? I like the definition put forward by Esther Lombardi in this post. She says a classic: (1) expresses artistic quality, (2) stands the test of time, (3) has universal appeal, (4) makes connections, and (5) is relevant to multiple generations.

Let’s find out if Verne’s work meets these standards.

Artistic Quality

This attribute concerns whether the book was well written by the standards of its time and whether it expresses life, truth, and beauty with artistic excellence. Although much of Verne’s prose seems stilted today, and the book’s over-long descriptions of the submarine and various fish tend to bore today’s readers, the artistic merit of the work certainly met the literary standards of its era. No mere adventure novel, it explored deep themes through its complex anti-hero, Captain Nemo. As the first fictional book to feature a submarine, written in a style imbued with scientific credibility, it stood out from all previous works.

Test of Time

A century and a half after its first publication, 20,000 Leagues is still widely read, with new editions appearing frequently. The novel inspired several films, comic books, video games, and a theme park ride. In 2018, Chicago’s Lookingglass Theatre Company produced a play based on the novel. There’s a Wikipedia entry devoted entirely to adaptations of the work.

Universal Appeal

Everyone can relate to some aspect of the novel. We all admire the unshakable loyalty of Conseil for his master, understand the impulsive and restless Ned Land, sympathize with the dilemma forced on the scientist Pierre Aronnax, and marvel at the unfathomable engineer/pirate Captain Nemo. What reader could remain unmoved while riding along in a fantastic submarine, the Nautilus—part warship, part exploration vessel, and part private yacht—as it cruises from one undersea adventure to the next?

Connections

Verne’s novel contains plenty of allusions to prior works. Captain Nemo’s name (Latin for ‘nobody’) recalled the pseudonym Odysseus used as a ruse with the Cyclops in Homer’s Odyssey. In naming his submarine Nautilus, Verne paid tribute to the American inventor Robert Fulton, who gave that name to his submarine in 1800. The encounter with the giant squid was reminiscent of an octopus scene in Victor Hugo’s Toilers of the Sea. The maelstrom at the end of Verne’s novel honored A Descent into the Maelstrom by Edgar Allan Poe, a writer Verne admired. As already mentioned, this web of connections continued into a vast number of later works, all inspired by 20,000 Leagues.

Relevance

To be relevant, the work must resonate with multiple age groups throughout time. Young people can certainly connect with the adventurous aspects of 20,000 Leagues—the visit to Atlantis, the escape from the ice, the attack on the warship, and the battle with the squid. More mature readers can appreciate Aronnax’s internal struggle between staying aboard for scientific discovery and leaving to escape a madman, as well as the twisted genius of Nemo as he descends into insanity. Even in our age, when nuclear submarines prowl the seas, nothing compares to the Nautilus’ museum, library, and pipe organ. No modern submarine can travel both as deep and as fast as Nemo’s, and the oceans remain almost as mysterious to us as in Verne’s day. Thus, the Nautilus retains its singular fascination for us.

By this standard, 20,000 Leagues has earned its designation as a classic work of fiction. You can check with any literary scholar; you don’t have to take the word of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 7, 2019Permalink

Stepping on the Moon…Again…Someday

As you may have heard, July 20, 2019 marked fifty years since a human first set foot on the Moon. What follows is one fiction writer’s perspective of that event.

Neil Armstrong on the moon

I was eleven years old then, and watched the landing on my family’s small black-and-white TV. I stayed awake to watch the “first step” too, though it occurred close to 10 pm central time. There was no way to watch that live event and not feel pride and awe. Even those who balked at the mission’s expense knew how historic it was.

Fiction writers had long been imagining the moment, and had prepared us for the wonder of it. From Lucian’s True History, to Rudolf Erich Raspe’s Baron Münchhausen’s Narrative of his Marvelous Travels and Campaigns in Russia, to Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall,” writers had taken us to Earth’s silver satellite in our imagination.

Later science fiction writers gave the trip greater clarity and realism in such works as Jules Verne’s From the Earth to the Moon, H.G. Wells’ The First Men in the Moon, and Robert Heinlein’s The Man Who Sold the Moon.

As a writer of historical technological fiction, I’ve written of flights to the moon occurring before 1969 as well. In “A Tale More True,” a rival of Baron Münchhausen travels to the moon in 1769 using a gigantic clock spring. In “To Be First,” my characters from an alternate Ottoman Empire are returning from the moon in 1933 when the action starts. And in “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall,” you can read about Dutch citizens traveling to the moon by balloon in the 1830s.

Although fiction writers helped us imagine the first trips to the moon, nobody prepared us for a five-decade lapse in missions. Nobody in 1969 thought we’d finish out the Apollo series of moon landings, and then stay away for over fifty years. If you could travel back in time from 2019 to 1969 and tell that to the world, not a soul would believe you.

The moon was ours! Surely by 1979 we’d have a moon base, then by 1989 a moon colony, and by 1999 the moon would be our springboard for trips to asteroids and other planets. The excited folks of 1969 would inform the time traveler that by 2019, naturally, average families would take trips to the moon for vacations.

How odd that we’ve stuck to our planet and near orbit for close to forty-seven years (since Apollo 17). Historians may well wonder what took humanity so long to go back, given the advances in technology that have occurred since the early 1970s. Here are some possible reasons for the long gap:

  • The Mercury/Gemini/Apollo series ingrained in the public mind that only governments can finance moon missions, and only at colossal expense.
  • The moon wasn’t that exciting, after all. Gray, dusty, airless, and lifeless, it was a place only an astronomer could love.
  • The war in Vietnam and the Watergate scandal shattered the public’s former confidence in government’s ability to accomplish great tasks.
  • We’d gone there to accomplish the late President Kennedy’s goal of landing a man on the moon before the end of the decade, and to win the supposed ‘space race’ with the Soviet Union. With no further goal, schedule, or apparent rival, we’d lost all impetus for further trips.

We’ll go back to the moon, of course, and with any luck, the next lunar landing will be witnessed by you and by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 21, 2019Permalink

Interview with a Moon Voyager

Today I’m interviewing the first man to land on the moon. I’m speaking, of course, about Hans Pfaall, who appears in my story “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall,” in the anthology Quoth the Raven. It’s my sequel to the Edgar Allan Poe story, “The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall.”

Poseidon’s Scribe: Greetings, Mr. Pfaall. And welcome to my blog. Thank you for consenting to this interview.

Hans Pfaall: Thank you, Mr. Southard. However, I confess I do not know what a ‘blog’ is, nor do I understand how you are able to conduct an interview under these circumstances.

P.S.: Never mind all that. Let’s focus on you. First, am I pronouncing your name correctly? Does Pfaall rhyme with ‘pail’ or ‘ball?’

H.P.: You’re pronouncing it correctly.

P.S.: Um….okay. Let’s move on. Up until five years ago, in 1830, where did you live and work?

H.P.: I was a citizen of Rotterdam. I repaired fireplace bellows.

P.S.: But then you went on a remarkable voyage. Please tell us about that.

Illustration by Yan Dargent

H.P.: I constructed a balloon of my own design and used it to travel to the Moon.

P.S.: I can’t believe that. All on your own, with meager resources, you built a balloon?

H.P.: Not on my own. That would be ridiculous. My wife and three men assisted me.

P.S.: How were you able to travel, let alone breathe, in the vacuum of space?

H.P.: You suffer from a widely held misconception. The space between the Earth and its satellite is not a vacuum. Although the air is thin, one can use a compressor apparatus to render it breathable, which I did.

P.S.: I see. Once you reached the Moon, what did you find there?

H.P.: The most significant things were the numerous hamlets and the single sizable city, in which I landed. Also of interest were the natives, who are similar to us in many ways, except for their diminutive stature and their lack of ears. I wrote about all of this in a letter; I gave it to one of the Lunarians and sent him back to Earth in a balloon for delivery to the officials of Rotterdam. Did they not receive it?

P.S.: They did. But your letter ended with some tantalizing mysteries. Please describe those.

H.P.: I presume you’re speaking of the strange connection between every human on Earth and a particular Lunarian. Not only does such twinning exist, unbeknown to us, but the lives and destinies of the linked individuals are interwoven with each other. Moreover, I believe I mentioned in the letter something about the dark and hideous mysteries that lie on the far side of the Moon, the side forever turned away from Earth.

P.S.: Right. Don’t you think those things deserved more than one paragraph?

H.P.: That letter had rambled on too long already. I will write more letters soon.

P.S.: Did you think about the effect such a letter might have on the residents of Rotterdam? I’ve heard they may send a rescue mission.

H.P.: What? I didn’t ask to be rescued. I don’t want to be rescued.

P.S.: You’re happy, staying on the Moon?

H.P.: Quite happy, sir.

P.S.: Well, this is a bit awkward. The rescuers are…um…

H.P.: What do you mean? Are you saying they’re on their way already? Tell them to turn back!

Poseidon’s Scribe: I’m just an author. I don’t have complete control over these things. But, thank you for this fascinating interview.

Hans Pfaall: No, this isn’t over. Promise me you’ll get the rescuers to return home. I don’t want to be rescued! Tell them!

 

Sheesh. That interview didn’t go exactly as I’d planned. In the anthology Quoth the Raven, you can read the story, “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall” written by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 4, 2018Permalink

Who the Heck is Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk?

Edgar Allan Poe could be just as creative with character names as Charles Dickens, or Dr. Seuss, for that matter. I’ll tell you about Poe’s story first, and then introduce Von Underduk.

Among Poe’s least remembered short stories is “The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall.” Hmm…Pfaall. Would that be pronounced ‘fail’ or ‘fall?’ Both would be apt, and Poe probably intended the ambiguity.

Illustration by Yan Dargent

In Poe’s story, the citizens of Rotterdam were alarmed when a peculiar balloon appeared above the city. How peculiar? Its gasbag was made from newspapers, and its lone occupant was an earless dwarf. This odd aeronaut remained silent,  but dropped a sealed letter before his balloon drifted from sight.

The anxious citizens read the letter, written by Hans Pfaall, a repairer of fireplace bellows and former resident of Rotterdam, who hadn’t been seen for five years. Pfaall’s letter described how he’d constructed a balloon and voyaged to the Moon.

Near the end of his letter, Pfaall mentioned he had much to say about the strange inhabitants of the Moon, about an odd connection between Lunarians and Earthlings, and some “dark and hideous mysteries” which lay on the Moon’s far side. There his letter, and Poe’s story, ended.

Poe intended to write further installments of this story, but never did, since another author upstaged him with an outlandish Moon hoax story. Still, the questions posed by Hans Pfaall’s letter have gone unanswered since 1835…

Until now.

My sequel to Poe’s story is “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall” and it appears in the anthology Quoth the Raven, which just launched today, exactly 169 years after the day of Poe’s death.

The good people of Rotterdam wouldn’t let Hans Pfaall remain trapped on the Moon. They’d organize a rescue, of course. They have everything they need. They have determination and grit. They have Pfaall’s letter with its detailed description of his balloon.

But most of all, they have Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk, the Burgomaster (mayor) of Rotterdam. Though a politician, Von Underduk is a man of many fine qualities:

  • He’s decisive and bold. Von Underduk takes little more than a month to consider the matter and authorize the rescue expedition.
  • He’s trusting and empowering. “Herr Pfaall, do not touch anything else unless I agree first. Understand?”
  • He humbly shares the spotlight. That miserable bellows repairman is not the only one capable of magnificent acts of lasting greatness…This time I alone will get the credit and the glory.
  • Most of all, he’s loving and tender. It should be understood that I, however, loathe him with hatred beyond all cosmic boundaries.

Now you can follow the journey of Burgomaster Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk and his fellow 19th Century astronauts as they pursue their desperate mission of rescue. Discover answers to the dark and hideous mysteries mentioned by Poe.

Buy Quoth the Raven and read “The Unparalleled Attempt to Rescue One Hans Pfaall” written by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

October 7, 2018Permalink

Author Interview — Tiffany Michelle Brown

Maybe you’re not sure you want to buy a copy of the just-launched anthology Quoth the Raven. You will, once you’ve read about the authors who contributed to it. Here’s the second in a series of author interviews. Let me introduce Tiffany Michelle Brown.

Tiffany Michelle Brown is a native of Phoenix, Arizona, who ran away from the desert to live near sunny San Diego beaches. She earned degrees in English and Creative Writing from the University of Arizona, and her work has been published by Electric Spec, Fabula Argentea, Pen and Kink Publishing, Transmundane Press, and Dark Alley Press. When she isn’t writing, Tiffany can be found on a yoga mat, sipping whisky, or reading a comic book—sometimes all at once. Follow her adventures here.

Now, here’s the interview:

Poseidon’s Scribe: How did you get started writing? What prompted you?

Tiffany Michelle Brown: Honestly, I think storytelling is in my blood. I started reading when I was three, thanks to my parents’ devotion to bedtime stories. As I got older, I was one of those kids who legitimately got excited about going to the public library or the local used bookstore. And don’t even get me started about the school days when our teachers handed out Scholastic Books order forms! As soon as I learned how to write, I started walking around with a lined notebook and a pen, always prepared to jot down notes, characters, and my own stories. I have some of my earliest stories and “novels” stored in boxes in my house. They are so much fun to read, often with a glass of wine in hand.

 

P.S.: Who are some of your influences? What are a few of your favorite books?

T.M.B.: Because I love the horror genre, I make it a point to read a lot of Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Shirley Jackson, and Octavia Butler. Some of my more modern influences include Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, Holly Black, and Sara Dobie Bauer. My all-time favorite books include American Gods, If We Were Villains, Wink Poppy Midnight, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, The Witch of Painted Sorrows, and Like Water for Chocolate.

 

P.S.: You’re an eclectic writer, having penned essays, a vampire romance novella, horror short stories, and drabbles (100 word stories). Is your muse guiding you in these various directions, are you responding to perceived demand, or is there some other reason for the wide variety of your writing output?

T.M.B.: My writing is all over the place, and I wouldn’t have it any other way! I think there are a couple reasons my work is so varied. I read voraciously and across genres – sweet romance, horror, steamy erotica, science fiction, YA, mysteries, superhero graphic novels – and like many authors, my current work tends to emulate a bit of what I’m reading. Additionally, I’m a sucker for a themed anthology. I scour calls for submissions to see if certain themes or prompts get my brain whirling. If a kernel of an idea starts developing in my head, I just go with it and see what happens. I love the spontaneity and the freedom to write about whatever strikes my fancy.

 

P.S.: Suppose you’ve traveled through time and met yourself at a point when you were first thinking of being a writer. What one thing do you tell this younger version of you?

T.M.B.: Believe in your work, and never let a rejection hold you back. There are people out there who will love your work just as much as you do. It’s all about finding those people, and it will happen.

 

P.S.: Your story “My Love in Pieces” appears in Quoth the Raven and was inspired by Poe’s story “Berenice.” Please tell us a little about your story and why you chose to write it.

T.M.B.: I loathe censorship, especially when it comes to literature. While reviewing Poe’s works and trying to decide which story or poem I wanted to retell for a modern audience, I learned that when “Berenice” was first published, it caused quite an uproar. Readers contacted the Southern Literary Messenger to express their opinion that Poe had gone too far, and he later self-censored the story. This little tidbit piqued my curiosity, so I read “Berenice.” The body horror in that story is so unsettling, and I wanted to challenge myself to write something just as disturbing. It also seemed like the perfect opportunity to resurrect a censored work, and I’m all about that. Thus, my story, “My Love, In Pieces” came to be.

 

P.S.: You’re a newlywed; how wonderful! How has married life impacted your writing?

T.M.B.: Thank you! In January, it’ll be one year! Funny enough, the biggest impact on my writing doesn’t have anything to do with my creativity and has everything to do with the administrative side of getting married. I made the choice to change my name, but I continue to publish under my maiden name, Tiffany Michelle Brown, and that means that I’m suddenly writing under a pseudonym, which I’ve never done before. So that’s been a bit of an adventure!

And I do want to give a quick shout out to my husband, who is consistently reminds me that I need to carve out time to work on my writing, because he knows how important it is to me. He is endlessly patient and supportive. And he’s the person who helps me celebrate every acceptance, too, often with chocolate and whisky.

 

P.S.: What are the easiest, and the most difficult, aspects of writing for you?

T.M.B.: The easiest part of writing is getting completely lost in characters. If you create them just right, they take over and drive the ship. I’ve had these incredible, almost out-of-body experiences where I’ll just type and type without a lot of awareness of what’s happening on the page; I’m just getting the story out. And then I go back to read what happened, and I’m totally surprised by the choices my characters have made. It’s a really strange, cool feeling.

The most difficult parts of writing are time management and constant rejection. I work in marketing and communications by day, so I spend a lot of time in front of a computer screen. It’s hard to fire up the laptop after so much work-related screen time, so I have to stay really motived. Additionally, you have to develop thick skin to succeed in this business. I used to get really bummed out by rejections (and I still do from time to time), but I’ve made it a habit to use rejection as a motivator. When I get a rejection, I immediately research new markets for a story. It just wasn’t the right fit and my job is to find the editor who loves my work.

 

P.S.: You contributed “A Taste of Revolution” in Ravenous (Triskaidekaphilia Book 2). It’s an anthology of vampire stories. Please give us a taste of your story.

T.M.B.: Jules Hammond thinks the vampire way of life in the Republic of New Vampyrium is a crock of shit. Her brethren are ruled by a pair of nihilistic tyrants, quarantined in what was once Romania, and forbidden to prey upon humans. Even worse, Jules could be staked and beheaded for voicing her disdain in public.

In the underground safety of her lab, Jules spends her nights synthesizing artificial blood infusions, talking a lot of political smack, and longing for freedom.

When a chance encounter with a gorgeous vamp from her past—now the crowned prince of the Republic—ignites lustful desire in Jules, she’s both twitterpated and confused. As she struggles to reconcile her overwhelming and exceedingly annoying feelings for Prince Fabian, Jules is offered a dangerous opportunity to free the vampire race from the clutches of its depraved monarchy.

Who knew the fate of bloodsuckers everywhere would depend upon a blue-haired blood chemist with rage for days and budding feelings for a man who represents everything she hates.

Essentially, this in a retelling of the Cinderella story…with vampires, political tension, bad wigs, tons of action, and a foul-mouthed heroine. I loved writing every word of it!

You can read more about “A Taste of Revolution” here and buy a copy of the anthology in all its vampire romance goodness here.

 

P.S.: You just met an interested reader in an elevator. The reader asks, “What sort of stories do you write?” The doors will open soon, so what short answer do you give this reader?

T.M.B.: I write sinister horror stories, steamy erotica with beautiful language, and paranormal romance stories featuring sarcastic, plucky heroes and heroines.

 

P.S.: To the anthology Ink Stains: A Dark Fiction Literary Anthology, you contributed your story “He Smelled Like Smoke.” At the time, you said that story contained your favorite closing line. Without revealing that line, can you describe the moment you thought of it and knew it was right?

T.M.B.: To this day, I still love that line. “He Smelled Like Smoke” is a dark, dark, dark horror story, and the closing line is spoken by a monster. It conveys nonchalance and absolute finality, and I hope it makes the reader think, Oh shit.

You can read more about “He Smelled Like Smoke” here and purchase the Ink Stains anthology here.

 

P.S.: What is your current work in progress? Would you mind telling us a little about it?

T.M.B.: Funny enough, the vampire romance bug has bitten once again! I’m working on the first novella in what I hope will become a trilogy.

For Victor, a lonely, introverted vampire, working the night shift at a college library is the perfect cover – darkness, routine, and just enough connection to the outside world to remind him of what he once was. It’s an easy way to spend eternity—until cocky student Elliot starts visiting the stacks late at night to study Victor and ask him vampire-related questions. Victor tries to play it cool, feigning indifference, but he’s desperate to figure out Elliot’s intentions. Is he a threat? A vampire fanboy? And which scenario is worse? It doesn’t help that Victor’s instincts for self-preservation are growing more and more at odds with his budding attraction to Elliot. When the student makes a bold move that changes their relationship, Victor decides to kill him… but he’ll have to see past Elliot’s ginger curls and devilish smile to take his life.

 

Poseidon’s Scribe: What advice can you offer aspiring writers?

Tiffany Michelle Brown: No matter what you write, there is an audience for it. Write what you love and do it with heart. There’s no voice like yours on this planet, so believe in it and share it. When you do, you’ll find editors and readers who love your work. And there’s no better feeling as an author than finding your tribe.

 

Thank you, Tiffany.

Readers can follow Tiffany Michelle Brown at her blog, on Facebook, on Twitter and on Goodreads.

Poseidon’s Scribe

October 7, 2018Permalink

Author Interview—Anatoly Belilovsky

You’ll enjoy reading my interview of Anatoly Belilovsky, another author whose story appears in the anthology Hides the Dark Tower.

Anatoly BelilovskyAnatoly Belilovsky is a Russian-American author and translator of speculative fiction. His work has appeared in the Unidentified Funny Objects anthology, Ideomancer, Nature Futures, Stupefying Stories, Immersion Book of Steampunk, Daily SF, Kasma, Kazka, and has been podcast by Cast of Wonders, Tales of Old, and Toasted Cake. He blogs about writing here, pediatrics here, and his medical practice web site is here. He was born in what is now Ukraine, learned English from Star Trek reruns, worked his way through a US college by teaching Russian while majoring in chemistry, and has, for the past 25 years, been a paediatrician in New York, in a practice where English is the fourth most commonly spoken language.

Here’s the interview:

Poseidon’s Scribe: When and why did you begin writing fiction?

Anatoly Belilovsky: I vaguely remember writing fanfic as a child, at least in my mind: a prequel to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a sequel to the original Lost World of Arthur Conan Doyle, apocrypha of Strugatsky’s Inhabited Island. Nothing I’d ever want to show anyone.

I did publish a couple of stories in my college’s annual magazine, one of them acquired by Gordon van Gelder [editor of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction] back when he himself was an undergraduate. Nothing I’d want to show anyone these days, either.

P.S.:    What genres have you written in?

A.B.: Alternate history is probably my favorite. When I write SF and fantasy, they tend to skirt very close to mainstream/literary. In humor, I prefer character-driven comedy to situational comedy — a mathematician who can only think of mathematics in terms of Russian swear words seems to have had the greatest impact so far, though an epidemic of otaku based on Russian cartoon characters, and Wagner leading a musical invasion of France in 1870, both got a few chuckles here and there.

P.S.:    In what way is your fiction different from that of other authors in your genre?

A.B.: I doubt I am the only one who acknowledges a debt to Gogol, Chekhov, Nabokov, and Poe as their major influences. It isn’t as common as Delany and Le Guin, but certainly not unique. There are several excellent bilingual writers, several physician writers I am proud to call twice-colleagues, several of anything I can ever be labeled as. I guess this is a question best asked of my fans. Shouldn’t take too long to interview both of them.

P.S.:    What are the easiest, and the most difficult, aspects of writing for you?

A.B.: Characterization is easiest: I seem to have a good handle on subtext which is what characterization is all about.

Plotting is the hardest. If I do my characterization right, the characters will pick proper fights with each other, the Universe, and the absurdity of existence. If not, they go through the motions, listlessly.

P.S.:    You’ve had many short stories published. Have you written any novels or do you intend to?

A.B.: I have not so far been chosen by a novel to be the instrument of its creation. Also, plotting: novels seem to depend on it more than short stories do.

P.S.:    In describing yourself, you cite your Russian childhood, Star Trek, chemistry, and pediatrics. How do you weave each of those threads of your life into your stories?

A.B.: Well, I learned English from Star Trek, so that’s huge. The chemical principles of self-assembly and tertiary structure — if you think about it, that’s how the best stories work, the characters and their worlds interacting organically, friendships and conflicts never feeling forced or synthetic. Pediatrics — after 30 years, subtext is second nature, you get to read whatever is left unsaid, tease out the meaning behind the exact phraseology used. And growing up speaking a highly inflected language I think gave me a heightened understanding of structure and mechanics of English.

Also, seriously, when everything you say can be used by Big Brother against you, subtext becomes a way of life. I was beta reading a story once that had this exchange:

A: “We hunt dragons.”

B: “There are no dragons.”

A: “That’s because we killed them all!”

My suggestion was to change it to:

A: “We hunt dragons.”

B: “Dragons are extinct.”

A: “You are welcome!”

Same idea, but I think communicating it through subtext made the speaker more matter-of-fact and therefore more believable.

P.S.:    Your stories often contain literary references, some perhaps unfamiliar to American readers. Are your tales intended to be enjoyed on several levels by the casual reader, the well-read bibliophile, and the researching puzzle-solver?

A.B.: Yes. In fact, this is exactly what several reviewers and a number of beta readers said. “Because of your story I googled [X] and wow [X] is now my new favorite thing and likely the name of my firstborn and my next band” — this is what writers live for!

Examples: I wrote a story about Night Witches, a women’s night bomber unit in the Soviet Army in WWII. Got an email from a reader who happily discovered the unit actually existed! Another reader now peppers conversations with Russian swear words. Mea maxima culpa! And Chrestomathy, the patchwork alternate literature story, got a whole bunch of conversations going about Pushkin and Gogol and the nature of ethics.

P.S.:    Your Twitter stream abounds in puns. What is it about that form of humor that intrigues you?

A.B.: I immigrated to US with my parents in 1976, and by end of high school and start of college in ’78 my English was fully functional, but no more. It was on a winter day in 1979 that I felt an almost audible *click* as English became *my* language, and the first manifestation of that was that I started making puns. I scribbled in the margins of my notebooks, Q and A jokes, knock knock jokes, shaggy dog stories ending in a terrible pun —

Also, I always liked math. And math teaches us that the shortest distance between two puns is a straight line.

One of my multilingual idols, Vladimir Nabokov, excelled at puns. Pale Fire has to be one of my favorite books of all time.

P.S.:    Your story in Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00001]Hides the Dark Tower is “Deep Into That Darkness Peering.” Can you tell us what inspired that homage to Poe (with a nod to Chekhov)?

A.B.: Well, Poe is… Poe! I mean, who else can write such purple prose and get away with it? “Deep Into That Darkness Peering” is actually one of three Poe’s purple prose pastiches I perpetrated, the other two published in Stupefying Stories Showcase. Melodrama, bathos, run-on sentences from hell (in my son’s estimation) — and I’m getting paid for it! MWAHAHA! [clears throat] Umm, where was I?

I also admire Poe for what has to be the biggest Deus Ex ending ever. Remember how “The Pit and the Pendulum” ends? The French enter the city and save the protagonist! Agency? Who needs agency when you have the French army! Now I don’t have to feel guilty for how I ended “Deep Into That Darkness Peering.”

Chekhov, by the way, is the author of the best bit of subtext ever written. In “The Lady with the Dog,” a man approaches the lady and the dog. The dog bristles. Quote follows:

“He does not bite,” she said and blushed.

Think about it.

P.S.:    What is your current work in progress? Would you mind telling us a little about it?

A.B.: An alternate history in which Tsar Nicholas II caught the bullet meant for Prime Minister Stolypin in 1911. No WWI, no Revolution. Murder mystery involving several characters born before the point of departure and famous in our timeline for — blimey, I better go and write this, what?

Poseidon’s Scribe: What advice can you offer aspiring writers?

Anatoly Belilovsky: Don’t only take writing advice from writers who wrote stuff you wish you’d written. Even people whose writing you don’t find appealing can help you develop your own voice. And if then you develop taste for their work — well, growth happens.

 

Readers aching to find out more about Anatoly Belilovsky (you know you’re one of them) can visit his website and follow him on Twitter.

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 4, 2015Permalink

The Truth About “A Tale More True”

Gypsy Shadow Publishing just launched my newest story, “A Tale More True” and I’m excited about it. Here’s the blurb:

History’s greatest liar, a colossal clockwork spring, a fantastic trip to the Moon…in 1769. Read it, but don’t expect truth.

What made me write a clockpunk alternate history story about an 18th Century trip to the moon? As both of my many fans know, I’m a great admirer of Jules Verne, who wrote a classic tale called From the Earth to the Moon.

One day I was searching the web about fictional trips to the moon and discovered Verne was a bit of a latecomer to that topic. Here are some of his predecessors, and the methods they used to get their characters to the moon, according to this website:

ws-images-reading-09-jan-im01-lucian-true-story-tm• Lucian of Samosata, True History, 2nd Century A.D. Carried to the moon by a waterspout/whirlwind, and Icaromenippus, 2nd Century A.D. Flew to the moon in an aerial carriage.
• Johannes Kepler, The Dream, 1634. Transported to the moon by aerial demons.
• Bishop Francis Godwin, The Man in the Moone, 1638. Pulled to the moon godwin001by trained geese.
• Cyrano de Bergerac, Comic History of Estates and Empires of the Moon, 1650. Launched to the moon by firecrackers.
• Daniel Defoe, The Consolidator, 1705. Rode an ‘engine’ called The Consolidator.
• Vasily Kevshin, Newest Voyage, 1784. Flew to moon in a self-constructed flying apparatus.
• Wilhelm Kuchelbecker, Land of Acephals, 1824. Flew in a balloon.
• Edgar Allan Poe, The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall, 1835. Flew in a balloon equipped with an air compressor.

I was struck by the fact that no one had written about going to the moon using spring power. During the 1600s and 1700s, they knew about the energy-storage properties of springs, the driving force in most clocks, so I thought someone should write that story.

During the research I also happened upon the interesting historical figure, Baron Hieronymus Carl Friedrich von Münchhausen, well known for his fanciful fibs, including tall tales about making two trips to the moon. In one trip he climbed a tall beanstalk, and in the second a hurricane lifted his ship up to the moon. I wondered if a rival of the Baron might be upset by these lies and might set about to prove Münchhausen wrong.

That’s how “A Tale More True” was born.

Subsequently I happened upon this website, and learned that David Russen had written A Voyage to the Moon in 1703, in which a giant spring is used to reach the moon. Oh, well, I wasn’t the first after all!

For you engineers and realists out there, yes, I know a human would not survive the acceleration of being ‘sprung’ to Earth’s escape velocity. However, it might be possible to construct a huge spring within a cylinder, have the spring drawn down in compression, draw a near vacuum in the cylinder, and launch a solid, unmanned projectile to escape velocity. Why you’d want to do that, I have no idea, but it might be possible.

Still, it’s fun to imagine someone building a giant spring in 1769 and travelling to the moon two centuries early. And as long as I was changing history anyway, I figured I’d also change the moon. In most of those early space-travel stories, (except Verne’s), the moon was inhabited. So why not populate the moon in my story?

And, though it’s outside my normal line, why not make the story humorous?

Anyway, enough said. The book has been sprung upon an unsuspecting world, and is available at Gypsy Shadow Publishing, Amazon, Smashwords, and other outlets as well. You’ll enjoy it, thinks—

                                                           Poseidon’s Scribe

June 9, 2013Permalink