Well, Juno Books became an imprint of Pocket Books. Juno published Wind Follower. Now, this may be good news but it might not be. Juno's been going toward urban fantasy. I like folkloric fantasy. Exploring tribal culture and what makes tribes. Current novel is Constant Tower which needs an agent cause it's neither urban fantasy nor does it have a female protag which is what Juno wants. But it's such a great book! What to do!I have another novel, Daughters of Men, which many folks loved and which was a near miss with an agent at Maass and with Dorchester and the editor at Juno said it needed a lotta work. Now, it would fit into the urban fantasy genre perfectly. So I could try working on it. Aaargh, to revisit a book I haven't worked on in about four years! But I suppose those characters are part of me because I love them very much.But I'm also working on my serial killer-succubus novel. Can I juggle all three? Will see. Might have to send a note to the Juno editor telling her my issues and wondering.Now, the weird thing about the Pocket alliance is that many of us Juno authors don't fit into the new Juno. What will Pocket do with us if we don't write urban fantasy? I'd like to think that being black and a Christian, Pocket might have a place for me because they have a Christian line and they might have a black line or a fantasy line. Not sure what's going on. Who knows? I'll only give that to God. This is one of those moments when the talk must become the walk and the rubber hits the road. I say that I trust God, right? I say that the word of God is powerful to change every situation, right? So will I walk around the house thanking God for this opportunity and for what he is going to do with me now that I'm ostensibly at Pocket Juno? Or will I look at the pathological truth and go about repeating that, especially since Juno might be putting some books out of print or remaindering them? Lord knows, how much money Wind Follower made for them!Promotion comes neither from the east nor from the west. Let me trust in God.
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Male dominated institutions, especially corporate interests, see the dangers posed to them by love's escape. Women who love themselves are threatening. But men who love real women, are even more of a threat. Naomi Wolf The Beauty Myth.Mainstream media has been described as one of the most widespread tools of social control. Through films,TV, music and videos we learn what to eat and what to hope for; where to live, what to desire and what to dream. Mainstream media impacts these values in such subtle ways that it's downright scary. From day to day, hour to hour we are ingesting them -- values racism, sexism, classism and we're not even aware of it.As Meehan, author of Ladies of the Evening found that some of the roles models we see on TV we ignore. Not many of us, for example, want to learn how to be a prostitute. But many other fantasy characters we see are parents, neighbors and lovers and these we do pay attention too.People learn how to behave from television and film roles models just as they emulate real ones. Research has even shown that we can take on the attitudes, ideas etc from popular culture's portrayal of our group (e.g. Black women) then go on to make assumptions about how we think other groups might behave (e.g. Black men)! Many are afraid to disagree with these stereotypes because they're afraid of being laughed at or called an outsider -- so they spread in what has been called a spiral of silence (Price, 1989).If all of this sounds like science fiction consider the OJ Simpson trial: the defendant in question a Black male celebrity and former pro football star accused of murdering his white wife, Nicole Brown Simpson and her male friend, Ron Goldman. Psychologists Friedland and Potash commented that we, as a culture, looked upon OJ as fallen hero and that we were both betrayed and stunned.And the media's gory coverage of Simpson trial, including the manipulation of Blacks and Whites into opposing boxing corners, makes one wonder just who and what was being tried? Simpson's guilt or innocence or a man's right to own and abuse his property -- his property in this case being Nicole, especially since he was paying the bills? (As a case in point I talked several white men who swore that he was innocent!) Or perhaps the millions of Black folk who've been screwed by the judicial system were on trial and Nicole and Ron were sacrificed to their collective rage?Hallis has described TV News as an ideological medium: providing not just information and entertainment but pockets of consciousness -- clues for reacting to social and political reality. (From Bell Hooks Yearning. ). I couldn't agree more.Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson Copyright 1997, 2009 all rights reserved.This is from a book entitled The Story of Eve which I finished in 1997 and never published. Much of the research is, I admit, dated; but I'm astounded at how much of it still applies to how we view and ingest media. Anyway I've been threatening to post some of it for months so here goes:) Comments and critiques are welcomed:)
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Hello everyone, Earth Squadron is steadily working towards our goals with the project. However, due to the economic downturn the action figure has been put on hold for several months. It will definitely be complete during the summer. The storyline is complete with new additions to the ever growing universe. Even with the setbacks we’ve come to understand that everything happens for a reason. We’ve been privy to some new software that we are in the process of mastering which will increase the quality of our product. Here are the goals that we have set for the projects Comic Books Action Figures 3D Movies 3D Video Games I am very excited about the things we have in store. If you would like to help the project along we would be more than happy to accept any donation that you would like to commit to help the project along. Send PayPal payment to info@thedigitalbrothers.com
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I Posted this in the 2nd annual BSFS open mic, but I wanted to make sure I shared it with all of my BSFS family -- especially since I started crying as I was writing it. This is a day of triumph us all!!!Queen Moon in the housespittin trueToday is OUR DAYand I'm looking back20 years we were led astraymade to feel like our hands were tiedthe media chained, hobbled ustold us a pack of liesbut now our Ancestorsrise up and walkspeak of the Nileof royalty and brilliancethat was always oursof a Sister named Mosesrunning through the woodsslave catchers at her backof demonstrations whenpolice dogs attacked --of lawyers, teachers, inventorsand more...this is when and where we Enterand I'm standing with Zora, OctaviaJames and Richard at my backcarrying our load of dreams in my sackcome on scifi SISTER AND BROTHERSlet's shake things up!Let's make it real!Compared to what?Compared to usand what we feel!"Our voice is powerful!Our voice is change!Our voice cannot be silenced!We are voice of the peopleAND - WE - WILL- BE - HEARD!"Naomi - Immortal II: The Time of Legend
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I'm watching Obama take office, and before he even stepped onto the dais, I was rocking my feet like the African women from Kenya to Nigeria, who move their hips, ushering in the elements and pushing power forward through their arms and the ululations they call with tongue and teeth. A martini glass in my hand, and hope in my heart, I'm thinkin', "Damn, this is a new day."Although I know Obama isn't as progressive as I want him to be, game peeps game when it comes to this historic moment. I hope all of us recognize the words of that old negro spiritual from McFadden & Whitehead,"Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now".Have a new day family.
Hey Dolls and Guys I updated my page so that http://stores.lulu.com/vjeffers in included in my sites.Shameless self promotion I know -- but is there any other kind (smile)?Peace, ya'll
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The message is clear: you can’t keep an Ilyassai down. Imaro is back, bigger and badder than ever. The third volume of his larger-than-life adventures – “Imaro: The Trail of Bohu” – is now available at www.lulu.com. You can read an excerpt from it in the Discussions section of the Sword and Soul group on this site.I have two people to thank for helping me to keep Imaro in print after the setback the series suffered in 2007. The first is Brother Uraeus, who started the publishing company, Sword & Soul Media, that will be bringing out Imaro’s fourth and fifth volumes later this year. Also forthcoming is a collection of Imaro short stories, under the title “The Warrior’s Way.” Uraeus was the one who suggested going to the print-on-demand format, which we began in April 2007, with the publication of “Dossouye.” Bringing his superb editing and design skills to the fore, Uraeus has made this book – and “Dossouye” – the best-produced volumes they can possibly be. Thanks for your hard work, Brother Uraeus. We’re gonna keep on keepin’ on.The other person to whom I am grateful is artist extraordinaire Mshindo Kuumba, who created the covers for both this edition of “Imaro: The Trail of Bohu” and “Dossouye,” and will be doing cover art for the rest of the books in the series. At the time I first started writing Imaro stories, my dream was to have his books come out with covers by the legendary Frank Frazetta, whose Conan cover art made both him and the character iconic. That never happened, and I was left with a longing that was unfulfilled. But when Uraeus introduced me to Mshindo’s art, the first thought that came into my mind was: “Forget Frazetta! Who needs him?” And that was before Mshindo came up with his renditions of Dossouye, then Imaro. I am so glad that Mshindo has decided to associate his creative vision with mine.Any creative endeavor is a risk. Artists, writers, musicians … we all put ourselves on the line when we offer the results of our inspiration and perspiration to the public. It’s not an easy path we follow. But when our books, our paintings, our songs come out of ourselves and are out there for people to see and hear – nothing, not even critics, can take away that fulfillment.Let me close by saying that the first two Imaro volumes – “Imaro” and “Imaro 2: The Quest for Cush” – have not gone out of print. They are still available from Amazon.com, or directly from their publisher, www.nightshadebooks.com.Sword-and-Soul is on the move. People get ready … there’s an Ilyassai coming.
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I am going for broke...I recently posted a press release on PRWEB.COMhttp://www.prweb.com/releases/2009/01/prweb1812854.htmoffering the film rights and options on my debut novel on a bid basis to interested film producers, production companies and investors.My Google and Yahoo results have dramatically increased and many websites have picked up the news.I would like George Lucas and Industrial Light and Magic to be involved with the special effects.Howard Shore should compose the music as he did so well with The Lord of the Rings Trilogy.Gore Verbinski, who directed the Pirates Trilogy, I think would do a fine job on this project.Blue Ridge Motion Pictures in Asheville, hopefully would be the base of production operations for the film.Some characters in the novel were written with certain actors and actresses in mind to portray the film roles.Andie MacDowell - star of Four Weddings and A Funeral, Groundhog Day, Green Card, Greystroke: Legend of Tarzan, etc.Ellen Page - star of Juno, Smart People, Xmen: The Last Stand, etc.Danny Glover - star of Lonesome Dove, 2012, Royal Tenenbaums, Lethal Weapon, The Color Purple, etc.Samuel L. Jackson - star of The Spirit, Pulp Fiction, Star Wars prequel trilogy, Unbreakable, etc.Ron Perlman - star of Beauty and the Beast, Hellboy, Bubba Nosferatu, etc.Scarlett Johansson - star of Vicky Christina Barcelona, Match Point, Lost In Translation, etc.
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This is an Op-Ed article I had published in a local newspaper last week. Given its subject matter, I think it remains relevant.Rare Convergence in Political History Rings in New YearMuch has been written and said about the historical significance of Barack Obama’s victory in the recent U.S. presidential election. The event deserves all those words and more, for when Obama takes the oath of office during his Jan. 20 inauguration, he will be the first black person to hold the highest office in his country. But there’s more to the day than that.Once Obama finishes reciting his oath of office and lifts his hands from the Bible, he will become part of a fascinating convergence of politics and history that encompasses both the United States and Canada. For the first time in both countries’ existence, the president of the United States, the Governor General of Canada and the lieutenant-governor of Nova Scotia will all be black.A decade ago, on the cusp of the 21st century, who would have thought that people of African descent would have held those offices at any time in the near future, never mind simultaneously? Even as recently as five years ago, the chances for that situation to occur would have been considered more remote than those of winning Lotto 6-49.Yet here they are: soon-to-be-president Obama, Gov. Gen. Michaelle Jean and Lt.-Gov. Mayann Francis. The top political positions in two countries and a province that once held Africans as slaves are now occupied by black people. This historical convergence is both gratifying and amazing.The manner in which these three trailblazers reached their positions is reflective of the differences in the political systems Canada and the United States developed after they went their separate ways in 1776.Obama won the Nov. 4 election after a long, gruelling, dramatic campaign in which he secured the Democratic Party’s nomination, and then the presidency. On Jan. 20, he will become the American head of state. Because of Canada’s continuing ties with Britain, Queen Elizabeth II is our head of state, and the Governor General and lieutenant-governor are representatives of the Crown. They are appointed rather than elected.Jean was appointed Governor General by former prime minister Paul Martin in 2005. Prime Minister Stephen Harper named Francis to her vice-regal post in 2006. At that time, Obama was considered the longest of long shots for the presidency, which is arguably the most powerful elected office in the world. Now, he bears the responsibility of leading his country through increasingly troubled times.Although the Governor General’s position is ceremonial for the most part, the office is invested with the authority of the Crown. Thus, Harper was obliged to secure Jean’s permission to prorogue Parliament last month to avoid the imminent defeat of his minority government. And if the Conservatives fall after Parliament resumes later this month, the Governor General will decide whether an election should be called or the Liberal-New Democrat coalition will be given a chance to form a government, with the support of the Bloc Quebecois.A United States president possesses no such prerogative.The first black president. The first black Governor General. The first black lieutenant-governor of Nova Scotia. All three at the same time. This is a moment to be savoured by people of all complexions and backgrounds.Even so, this extraordinary conjunction is not a panacea for the difficulties black people continue to face in both Canada and the United States. None of these officials is a “Magic Negro.” For all the progress there has been since slavery ended, there are still barriers to be broken and obstacles to overcome.Yet this remains a moment of pride. And as bigotry continues its long and stubborn retreat, we can continue to work toward a post-racial society with more spring in our step and hope in our heart.Can we overcome?Yes we can!
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WE NEED OUR OWN!!! WE CANNOT DEPEND ON OTHERS TO DO THAT WHICH WE CAN DO FOR SELF. WE CANNOT DEPEND ON HOLLYWOOD TO DEPICT US POSITIVELY. WE MUST CREATE OUR OWN"HOLLYWOOD"AND MAKE IT HAPPEN OURSELVES. HOLLA BACK
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Suvudu is giving away three pairs of Weekend Tickets to Comic Con New York, one of the biggest Comics, Sci Fi, Fantasy, Manga, Television, Movies, You-Name-It-They-Got-It Extravaganzas known to mankind! All you need to do is email us your name, phone number, and mailing address at infosuvudu@randomhouse.com. It's just that easy, but be sure to read the legal for all the fine print.To enter, submit your name, phone number and mailing address to info@suvudu.com between 12:01 AM EDT January 12, 2009 and 12:00 AM EDT on January 26, 2009. If you send in your name, phone number and mailing address, you will be entered in a raffle to win one of three prize packs, each containing two (2) Weekend tickets to attend Comic Con New York City. NO PURCHASE NECESSARY.
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While cruising the Web the other day, I found a list of possible markets for sci-fi and spec writers. Info includes payment terms and other resources, but the most important items are links to stories that are being published.Why is this important?In order to compete in any marketplace, you must study from the people who are successfully selling. So, my advice is to review and evaluate the stories that are winning awards and paychecks and utilize some of the techniques and styles employed by those writers because that is what editors currently want. Also, to become a better writer, be a better reader.'Nuff said.Check out the web page at: http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~mslee/mag.html#smallThe list includes the following publications.Markets paying at least 3 cents per words* Abyss & Apex (webzine)* AEon Speculative Fiction (webzine)* Analog* Argosy* Asimov's Science Fiction* Black Gate* Black Static (UK magazine)* ByLine (mainstream, literary, and genre fiction)* Cemetery Dance* Chiaroscuro (webzine)* Dark Seasons (webzine)* Fantasy & Science Fiction* Flesh and Blood* Gobshite Quarterly* Gothic.net (webzine)* Horror Fiction Magazine* Interzone (UK magazine)* The Night Land (website seeking fiction set in William Hope Hodgson's world)* Nowa Fantastyka (Polish magazine)* Oceans of the Mind (PDF-format magazine)* Palace of Reason (webzine)* Paradox* Polyphony* Realms of Fantasy* Strange Horizons (webzine)* The Urbanite* Weird Tales* Wrong World (stories on DVD)Markets paying at least 1 cent per word* AlienQ Magazine (webzine)* All Possible Worlds* Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine (Australian)* Aurealis (Australian magazine)* Back Brain Recluse (UK magazine)* Blue Blood* Dreams & Visions: New Frontiers in Christian Fiction* The Edge (UK magazine)* Elysian Fiction (webzine)* Flashing Swords (webzine)* Fortean Bureau (webzine)* Leading Edge* NFG (Canadian magazine)* On Spec (Canadian magazine)* Runes* The Silver Web* Spacesuits and Sixguns* Space Westerns (webzine)* Talebones* Tales of the Unanticipated* Would That It Were (webzine)Markets paying less than 1 cent per word* Afterburn SF (webzine)* Albedo One (Irish magazine)* Amazing Journeys Magazine* Anotherealm (webzine)* AntiMuse (webzine)* Atomjack (webzine)* Cats With Wings* Challenging Destiny* Daikaijuzine* The Deepening (webzine)* Delirium Magazine* The Earwig Flesh Factory (no payment for short-shorts)* Every Day Fiction (online short-short market)* Far Sector SFFH (webzine)* Fiction Inferno (web magazine)* Hadrosaur Tales* Halcyon* Ideomancer (e-zine)* Killer Tales* Lone Star Stories (webzine)* Mount Zion* Murky Depths* Nanobison (webzine)* Neverary (webzine)* Neverworlds (webzine)* Nuketown (webzine)* OG's Speculative Fiction (webzine)* Permutations: The Journal of Unsettling Fiction* Planet Relish (webzine)* Quantum Muse (webzine)* Reality Complex* Rogue Worlds (webzine)* SFReader.com (web market and review site)* Shortfictionworld.com (web market)* Sybil's Garage* The Sword Review (webzine)* Three-lobed Burning Eye (webzine)* Walking Bones (webzine)Other SF/F/H Publications/Organizations* Gila Queen's Guide to Markets (covers other genres as well)* HWA (Horror Writers Association)* Locus* The New York Review of Science Fiction* SciFan (science fiction books & links)* SFPA (Science Fiction Poetry Association)* SFWA (Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America)* Tangent Online (reviews short SF/F/H fiction)
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Posted by Night Manager on January 8, 2009 at 10:13am
AMALGAM UNIVERSE:from ACT IIPart two:THE 1ST ALLIANCES:MAYDAY!Her Viper was beginning to spin. Slowly now, but Starbuck knew soon she would be pinned to one side of her Viper as the centripetal forces rose. She slid her hand over the emergency eject lever, better to have it in hand now than when she may not have the strength to reach it. Be a shame to have the opportunity to bail only to be held back by her own body weight times ten. Spinning would do that and she had no way to stop the spin.Her port stabilizers were blown. Trying to stop the spin with just the remaining starboard jets would only send her spinning the other way even faster. Not to mention that with the damage her Viper had taken those stabilizers could blow as well. It had not been the enemy fire that had caused them to blow out; it had been the subsequent fuel line fire. At least they had blown out together, keeping her ship from going into a wild spin but they had blown out in two awfully jolting explosions that sent her Viper into the gravity well of planet RV1906, gas giant.RV1906 marked the rendezvous point of a meeting they had desperately needed with some supposed friendly intelligent beings. The gas giant had been described in a beacon that Dr. Baltar had been able to decode. The beacon promised friendly contact, intelligence on what had happened to make the universe go crazy, and most important of all; supplies. RV1906 looked good, it was still about the size of a dinner plate in her canopy now, but was growing larger.If she ejected now, most likely she would get caught in the gravity well and be pulled in anyway. Her only hope was that the mining ship that Galactica had sent would pick her up and be able to maneuver enough to get in range of the jets of her flight chair. Long shot… but what else did she have. Certainly she could not count on those “Friendly” beings.Kara twisted and looked out her starboard side window. The battle was still in full swing. Though too far to see any of the ships, she could mark their demise with each and every bright flaring explosion. A seasoned fighter pilot, Kara Thrace, call sign “Starbuck”, had seen enough of her fellow pilots fall to know that many of those flares, most in fact, were Vipers going down. It had been a fraking ambush.Like so many things Starbuck had seen since the strange event that had made the know universe become twisted and unrecognizable, the attackers ships had been totally alien to her. From their strange “H” shaped design to the fact that they had no discernable source of propulsion, the alien ships attacked in numbers that had overwhelmed them. Though the Vipers had superior maneuverability, the attackers speed was unheard of and their attack passes ripped them apart. They had been suckered in.The cockpit suddenly lights up and Kara twists again, turning to look port side only to find RV1906 had gone from a plate sized disc in the distance to a horizon spanning orange ball.Dammit! Quickly she flipped off the automated distress call and began relaying it live. No one was going to pay attention to just one distress call among what had to be at least thirty now. Thirty of those ships still intact enough to put out a distress call.But after a good ten minutes there was no answer. Ten minutes was not long enough to mean there was no one out there but it was long enough to mean that help was too far away to be able to help.The entire cockpit was awash in the bright orange glow of RV1906.Possibly the mining ship was using some other channel. With the battle still going on there just had to be some chatter going on. Kara set her radio to scan.Channel after channel slipped by, blowing only static at her, and after another ten minutes she knew that most of the channels would have been blocked by the planet itself. RV1906 was now so big that she could not see both poles at one time, each passed into her field of vision as the Viper was beginning to rotate. It was too late to bail, not that there had been an opportunity earlier.Orange, black, orange, black and Viper rolled the gas giant around her. Slowly her weight pulled her portside. For awhile she could hold herself in her seat but little by little she slid to her left. It was a bad spin, the kind she knew would pull the blood from her head and make her pass out. Though that might be a blessing.What the hell was she still holding onto the ejector level for?Popping out now was certain and instantaneous death.It was getting hard to breath. The flesh of her cheeks began to pull at her eyes with their increased weight.Nothing out there but hot acidic gases swirling at hurricane levels.“…opy? This is Sku… one to… craft. Do you…” what the?Kara looked down at her radio display, but the computer had lost the signal and had continued scanning the lower bands. It had to be a low band transmission, but Galactica’s forces never ran that low. One of the enemy?The canopy was all entry flames and orange planet glow, her Viper was burning up. Had she just imagined the transmission? It did not matter now; she was too far into the planets atmosphere to be recovered. Maybe had she ejected earlier…WHOA!A shadow flew past at what had to be MACH 3. Another Viper burning up on entry? Or maybe one of hers got one of theirs. Then the shadow zipped past again, and again, and again as whatever it was fell into a locked position while her Viper continued to spin.“…you copy? Is there anybody alive in there?” came the clear young voice. Kara wanted to scream out, but her chest was too compressed. She wanted to signal back but her hand was pinned to the Damned EJECT LEVER!“…old on. This is gonna be bum…”Insane. No rescue could be mounted now. Her ship was breaking up as his must be. Any attempt to snag her ship with tow cables would kill them both. She mouthed breathless orders for the unknown Viper pilot to leave her, to return to defending the Galactica. On the next rotation the shadow seemed to be closing on her Viper.CLANG!! All at once the Vipers spin was halted and Kara was thrown against her straps. They had collided. What the frak was wrong with that idiot?Her fall a bit more stabilized, Kara could see out the canopy to the planets horizon. Flames still engulfed the ship, now pluming around the nose and engines. Where was that other Viper? Did he survive the impact?Then pulling into her field of vision from just past her starboard wing was the nose of a ship she had never seen before. It was not like the strange alien craft that had ambushed them here, no this fighter was different. She had never seen it before but its design seemed oddly primitive. With wings that large and obvious air intakes it looked like an old time atmospheric fighter craft but it had to be a spacecraft to be here now. The craft maneuvered easily even as it plowed acid air in the middle of a gas giant’s tornado system. The fighter, yes it was clearly some kind of fighter craft, came even closer and Kara could see its pilot through the clear bubble canopy. His smile told her that he could see her as well. He was smiling as they both were starting to burn up… what the Frak?He was talking, no doubt trying to get his transmission through to her. With the centripetal forces relieved Kara reached and tuned her communications gear back down to the lower bands. But his voice was no where to be found.Apparently he decided to give up and sent her some kind of hand signal. What did it mean? He was pointing… ohFRAK!She had seen this on the prelim reports of RV1906, the big red disc; a localized tornado system, ten times bigger than her home Colony planet Caprica, that rolled across the planet at the midway point between its equator and its southern pole. That big red patch now sat just below them, pulling them down like suds running toward the drain. Once they were too close they would not be able to pull out.Once they were too close their ships would be ripped to shreds.Kara looked back to her would be rescuer and began to wave him off, to send him back for his own good. But he now seemed intently focused on his flying and dipped the strange craft even closer. Kara could see now that it was white, despite being bathed in the fiery orange glow, white with Black trim. It was carrying a huge drop missile beneath it and she could see the gun ports clearly now.The winds picked up and the glass canopy of Kara’s viper began to crack… it would not be too long now.Still she kept her eyes on the strange craft, thinking it was as good a thing as any to be the last thing she ever saw. A pretty strange craft yes, but at least he was trying to rescue her. At least he was trying to…Were those arms!?!From beneath the craft, two mechanized arms dropped down. These arms had not been set inside the craft, or attached to it. No, amazingly the arms seemed to have been a part of the planes structure. One of the massive arms was holding the drop missile like it was a rifle and the other was remarkably reaching out to her Viper.If this were not enough the two blazing rear engines were moving as well. Tilting down and under the craft they moved into position underneath the rest of the craft, looking much like a pair of legs.Impossible.The huge hand came down on the Viper around the bridge of its nose, and again Kara was thrown forward. This close she could see the scarred and pitted metal plating of the “hand”. This crazy flying machine had done this before. How many Vipers had this guy been saving?The two engines fired hard and the braking thrust jolted her. The two engines blazed beneath the aircraft on those two distended legs, giving the whole craft the look of an insane mechanized bird of prey.Not possible.Not possible she told herself. No one could maneuver a craft like that even if such a craft could be built. It was not possible to perform an action as complex as grabbing the nose of a viper while battling an alien tornados mach 2 winds. Not possible.The hand holding her Viper pulled her up underneath the strange craft, likely an attempt to reduce their wind profile. She could see the alien writing, the labeled intakes, and the skull and crossbones of what she instinctively knew was a fighter squadron.The G-forces pushed and then pulled at her body and she also now knew that the craft was pulling them up, away from the big red disc, away from the planets atmosphere. How was this possible?A word seemed to whisper itself into her ear, into her consciousness, though she could not have heard it before. It was the answer to her questions although in time she would learn that the word itself was a question.What had saved her life? What have made such a craft? What had made that craft able to do the impossible?Robotechnology.
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DARK SCRIBE MAGAZINE has announced the nominees for the 2nd Annual Black Quill Awards! Every vote makes a difference, so please follow the link below and cast yours now.Remember, voting closes at midnight EST on Sunday, January 25th, 2009. And please, tell your friends!http://www.darkscribemagazine.com/current-nominees/Read more…
Posted by Night Manager on January 3, 2009 at 7:50pm
I'm not usually into fan fiction but a buddy of mine; a fellow writer and I got into some heated arguments about which SCI-FI series could kick the ass out of the which other SCI-FI series and stories. That sort of kicked off a bit of a running writing fight and then evolved into a pretty interesting series of short stories and "What ifs". The stories all follow a specific outline and had a definite plot but we write them from several different points along the story. A story where EVERY and all sci-fi universes have merged into one. We've knocked out a few short stories so far. So...AMALGAM UNIVERSEACT IPart one:THE GREAT MERGINGVoyagers Arrival.Janeway sat rigid and tight in the command chair. Her legs were crossed in what she hoped was a relaxed pose but her muscles were tense and her back was beginning to ache. Her eyes stared forward, unblinking, at Voyagers main view screen. They had been so close before, so very close and still had this snatched away; home. They were finally going home, but they would not be sure until the view screen cleared and their sensors could register again. So she sat, rigid and tight, staring at the forward view screen.The rest of the bridge crew took to their Captains example. All was quiet across the small bridge of the Intrepid class ship.Her X/O Commander Chakotay, found himself following her lead. Though he supported his Captain unconditionally, he had found that their opposing views had put them at odds for the most part in the past seven years. Not amazing considering that they had met only because she had chased him nearly halfway across the galaxy in order to arrest him. Instead circumstance forced the then rogue Starfleet Officer to join her crew as second in command. Now he sat next to her, as still as she, eye also transfixed on the distorted view screen, waiting and hoping.The helmsman, Tom Paris kept his eyes away from the screen and on his helm controls. He told himself he would not look up until his console told him something new. “A watched pot never boils” was an old Earth expression. It applied here. Paris was another Voyager Officer of circumstance. He had come aboard a prison parolee and now found himself at the helm. The “Ex-Convict” found himself wondering if the Voyagers seven year trek across the Galaxy would count as “Time served”.Security Officer Tuvak watched the screen impassively. A Vulcan, he lived his life as logically as any Vulcan ever had. Either they would find Earth after passing through this slipstream, or they would not. Either they would survive the trip while the entire ship was protected inside of the dying Borg shell or they would not. Emotion would not lend any help to their cause. Although another setback at this point would certainly be devastating emotionally to the non-Vulcans of the crew. Tuvak thought to offer a Vulcan prayer. It would have no bearing on the outcome he knew, but it might help prepare him to better assist his Captain and crew mates for what was to come, good or ill.The most agitated of the Bridge crew was Lieutenant Harry Kim. He was the youngest bridge officer, having come to Voyager fresh out of Starfleet Academy, though after their adventure he had certainly earned his stripes and his fellow crewmen’s respect. Never-the-less that did not stop him from looking back and forth from his Science station to the veiwscreen and back again. Again and again he called up the sensors trying to get them to read something… anything other than the rapidly deconstructing systems of the Borg sphere. His frustration mounted.A hand slid over his console and reset the sensors for him. Not just any hand, a bionically augmented hand. Harry looked up and saw that Seven of Nine, once a Borg drone, was looking at him. Another odd member of the crew, she had joined the ship just a few years ago. This homecoming could not mean as much to her Harry thought, she had very little memory of Earth as it was, having been “Assimilated” by the Borg Collective when she was just… What was that?The sensors reading the environment outside the Borg sphere came back on line lighting up his console like a Christmas tree. The Event Horizon of the Slipstream was breaking. Before he could even make a report He heard his Captain give the order to fire.In a blaze of fire the Borg sphere broke apart all around them.Janeway found herself standing as the most wonderful sight she had ever seen filled her eyes. She was not the only one. The huge bright blue and white ball called Earth sat dead center of their veiwscreen and a fleet of their fellow Starfleet ships was there to welcome them home.“Captain, we’re being hailed!” Kim reported.“Put it through…” Janeway had to choke back a few tears. It was not appropriate for a Starship Captain to cry she knew, but dammit… they had finally come home.The voice cut through loud and clear. Audible only, as Lieutenant Kim dared not take the beautiful Earth off the screen. There was a small flight of Starships in formation there to greet them.“Starship Voyager, this Admiral Paris. On behalf of Starfleet Command; Welcome…”Several warning lights flashed across Harry’s console. His face was painted in the warm red lights.“Captain…” he began to warn when Tuvak’s voice rang out clear.“I’m reading a massive power discharge… aft!” His face too, was bathed in warning light red.The ship began to shudder from a force powerful enough to overcome the inertial compensators. There was a bright green flash of light, distorting nearly half of the veiwscreen. Janeway blinked hard but kept her eyes locked and saw the pulsating green beam streak from somewhere behind Voyager. The beam must have been giving off some powerful waves because before their eyes the small fleet of ships in the welcoming committee was set rolling. The beam continued past in an instant and struck the Earth, somewhere in the North Eastern continent of Africa Janeway noted in that instant. It was the last sight of her home she would ever remember. In the next instant, the planet EARTH exploded before their eyes.The explosion sent a huge equatorial shockwave out, a giant band of superheated core matter. Voyager was buffeted by gravitational waves almost instantly.“Gravitational shockwaves!” reported Tuvok.“What just happened?” Chakotay screamed out. He had seen enough explosions to understand what he had just witnessed, still he needed confirmation… what he wanted was for someone to tell him that what he thought he saw was not what had actually happened.“It gone! The Earth… it’s been destroyed!” Paris stated it plainly.“Harry report!” Chakotay ordered.“I… it…” was all he could say. Quickly Seven of Nine stepped behind his console and scanned the readouts. Before she could answer Tuvok warned;“We are directly in the path of the shockwave!”“There is a massive object bearing on Earths… former position.” Seven reported. “From the power readings it is the object that discharged the energy beam that hit the Earth.”“Twenty seconds until the shockwave hits us!” Tuvok continued.“Captain?” Paris hands hung over the helm controls, torn between shock, acting, and waiting for orders.Janeway still stood from her command char, still rigid, hands in tight fists at her side. Her eyes were still locked on the view screen, watching as the bright red shockwave band grew, as it headed directly for them.“Captain?” Chakotay called out. He had never seen her freeze up before.“I’ve got calls coming in from a dozen vessels that were in orbit. They can’t escape the shockwave!” Harry Kim reported shakily.“Captain?!?” Paris began to plot a course.“Impact in ten seconds.” Reported Tuvok. “Orders Captain!?!”Finally Janeway responded. Her head snapped around her eyes were full of fire and tears.“RED ALERT! SHIELDS UP! All hands brace for impact! Tom get us moving!”Voyager was a smaller Starfleet vessel than most, and so a hell of lot more maneuverable, and Tom Paris was one of the best pilots to come out of the Academy. The few seconds they had left were too little for an ordinary pilot to get anything done; fortunately Tom Paris was better than that. Plus he had already started Voyager moving before he got the order.Even so the ship was going to take one hell of a beating and it did. Janeway grabbed her seat in time and was not dumped onto the deck as the first wave hit. She watched the screen and witnessed a few of the Starfleet welcoming ships that did not have crackerjack pilots get caught in the band and disappear. Those ships were swallowed by the shockwave and their warp cores blew. Those eruptions only added to the waves of devastation rolling over Voyager.“Tom, pitch us over the shockwave!” Chakotay ordered.“It’s not so easy!” Paris screamed back. Indeed the ship was attempting to ride over the “crest” of the wave. Paris would have applied more power to the impulse engines if he had not had the proverbial “pedal to the metal” as it was.“You see the power of this Station your Highness? It is… What is it?” Governor Tarkin saw the mad scrambling of personnel at the consoles of his control room. From the way the technicians were nervously tapping their keyboards he could tell that something was seriously wrong. He looked over his shoulder to tall figure in shiny black armor, Lord Darth Vader. Vader’s soulless eyes simply reflected back the bright burning fire of the now destroyed planet Alderaan. If he sensed what was wrong he was saying nothing yet. In Vader’s grasp was the young woman Tarkin had been talking to, Princess Leia Organa, a diplomat, now exposed as a spy. Alderaan had been her home world and she sank in Vader’s steel hold sobbing. It was the first time Tarkin had seen any vulnerability in the young woman. Everything was as it should be except those damn techs were not calming down, there were growing more excited.“REPORT!” he commanded.Behind him Vader spoke before any of the techs could answer. His deep resonate, electronic voice echoed throughout the room.“YOU’VE MISSED.”“Preposterous! You saw the planet destroyed the same as I.” Tarkin argued. But Vader fell silent. The prisoner in his arms was looking up; tear filled eyes wide as she looked past Tarkin for any hope that Vader was right.“A small fleet of ships has just appeared on our scopes!” finally something from his crew.“A fleet? Alderaan has no fleet. What make are the ships?”“We’ve got a large gravitational mass bearing on our position!” came a tech from another station.“What is it?” Tarkin demanded.“Navigation is down!” reported yet another.“What? Why?”“Ships are of unknown make or origin!”“Impossible. Identify them immediately!” Tarkin barked orders but could tell from the techs reactions that his commands were going to be hard to obey.“Have the systems been effected by the firing of the main gun?” He proposed.“Systems are operating nominally. The discharge has not affected them.”“The unknown ships are powered by small, localized fields… similar to gravitational fields. No known match in our library.”Tarkin turned to the Princess. “Alderaan has amassed a fleet built on new technology?” but her face held no answers.“THAT WAS NOT ALDERAAN.” Vader intoned.“What?”“Navigation has run a check; we are no longer in the Alderaan system.”Tarkin looked at the tech who gave the report. That tech might have cowered under the glare if it were not for the fact that he found himself staring at his own console read outs, amazed by what he saw there.“Where are we?” The decision to destroy Alderaan had not been made hastily. Despite the power of the Empire, and this station, control was still a precarious thing. Fear went a long way but too much and all the systems would revolt. If they had just destroyed a key system, or a planet that was already complying with the Emperor then other planets already submitting to his control would panic and revolt. Control would be impossible if the local systems thought that the Empire would destroy them all no matter what. This could be disastrous.“The large gravitational mass has been identified as a moon. It’s on a collision course!”“The unknown ships are moving to intercept!”“Move the station!” Tarkin ordered. “Power the gun again, and launch the Tie Squadrons! And someone find out where we are and what planet that was that we destroyed! Vader?”But the tall dark figure was already moving, dragging away Leia Organa. As he past his personal guard he commanded;“READY MY SHIP.”“As you command Lord Vader.”
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...Quite by accident. Or quiet design. Viable arguments for the genesis of many things, but tripping through the wires of the internet led me to this Place. A vibrant fantastical place in its own right, the Black Science Fiction Society feels like coming home or a family reunion. Multicolored, multifaceted, multicultural, is how I likes it. So thanks to all y'all for the uncharacteristically warm welcome!Right, so a little over a year ago, I was slogging through Amazon for something to read that might tickle my fancy. If you're like me, you felt like you've read every fantasy novel brimming with the standard tropes or tropes in disguise. Weened on mythology, teethed on Tolkien, with an adolescence in D&D, heaping helpings of Moorcock and liberal sprinklings of Le Guin, I've dabbled with Delany's Dhalgren and strode the deserts of Herberts Dune, I felt like I had read it all before, twice. At the moment, Neil Gaiman is, for me, like many others, a current champion. So what to read now that you can't pore over the Silmarillion one more time, you've slummed with Jim Butcher and you, a former genre head, find yourself squinting into the not-so-forbidding-anymore-wilds of Literary Fiction writers like Chabon for a ripping good yarn? Chalk it up to maturity, desperation, whatever! This is why I was on Amazon. Felt like the (Amazon) jungle, yeah.Didn't find jack until i went to the forums. Trolling those wilds I went from jack to jackpot. Most interesting to me was a post concerning a certain literary agency that puts out a monthly wishlist of books/manuscripts that it would like to see cross its desks. A muslim detective, a modern day huck finn, an African American Lord of the Rings. A WHAT?!? What the heck was that? I wondered. And it seemed I wasn't alone in that question... How would that work? Why would you even do it? What does that mean?? What? But it was late and I went to bed and forgot about it......for a while.In the wintry dead of night. some months later, I woke with a start and grabbed a pen and started scribbling down words in the blank black books I keep nearby the bed when nightborne fits of writing seize me. My subconscious, or WHATEVER had worked out how it WOULD work. Wow, I was on to something. Deeply personal, (YAY!) it consumed and continues to consume my waking (and sometime dreaming) thought. It's my "African American Lord of the Rings"! A world of my own devising this time that I can go to when I need to escape the humdrummery of light conversation, the daily commute or bill paying muzak. My eyes may glaze and I might miss what you said but I assure you worlds are being saved behind my vacant, placating smile. Hopefully when its finished you can share in these effects.There was/is the research.There are the many pages written and to come.There are the maps, the outlines.The f***ing words!My first major undertaking as a writer. The hubris! The sheer arrogance! The sheerogance! Might as well put that creative writing degree to use though, huh? So I have. Its a process I'm sure with which many of you dear readers are familiar. Me? I'm lazy, easily distracted, and infrequently dismayed by the task with which I've set before myself. Other than that, things are going swimmingly.Hey. This summer my own brother said a curious thing: "I don't think there's a market necessarily for African American Fantastic Fiction." My initial response was at least threefold:1. Anger at his own black ass for thinking the thing.2. Dismay at that same thought and3. The immense desire to prove him wrong.A little about my bro: he's biracial and grew up for all intents and purposes as white among whites (so did I to a certain extent) but I have seen some moments when the ways of society rudely awakened my brown brother from beyond the pale of his reverie. I thought said revelatory moments might have clued in his black ass more in to the diversity of perspective/possibility in the world. For the moment, I've let him off the hook. He's young yet... And wrong yet... Ugh. (There's more here, I know.)Back to the internet, and how it led me to you to me to you reading these words. Google is a phenomenal tool and googling "African American"+"Lord of the Rings" yields few results but via link after link I located the works of Charles Saunders. Well, what had we here? Devoured entire his webpage and actually reached into the recesses of memory and recalled that I had encountered his recently republished Imaro novel in Barnes & Noble. Cutting to the chase, he is an inspiration and living proof that I have the privilege (should I accept it) to stand on the shoulder of another giant. Mama the other giant.Through Saunders' webpage, I found THIS Place. With you. Happy Accident? Fate? HTML? I don't care, I do know that I've chanced upon a camaraderie only rarely experienced that speaks the words: "Boy, you fount yo folks!" So yeah, thanks for havin' me! I hope to contribute some as some of you have already contributed to me.
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Join Penelope and Otto during this Wicked Wednesday as we review the most memorable stories of 2008! It's Wednesday. Let's Get a little Wicked!Call in at 718/508-9683 and tell us your most memorable moments of 2008!!Read more…
Chikaodili carried the bucket out of his compound to fetch water for his wife. He stood still in the doorway illuminated by the moonlight. His attention was directed to the hill to his right. On top of the hill stood a large structure with smoke from its chimney into the night sky. Chikaodili dropped the bucket where he stood and quickly walked back into his compound. He walked down the hallway not having time to see their occupants. He turned left into one of the rooms. He was startled when he saw his wife Chidinma sitting on a stool looking out the window.“They haven’t called for you in months” Chidinma said looking up at the hill. “Why do they call now?”“You seem to forget that you are not question me about what goes on up there” retorted Chikaodili picking up a bag. Chidinma looked in Chikaodili`s direction.“Please forgive me” she said seamlessly. Chikaodili walked out of the room without another word. He walked further down the hall and turned this time into a room on the right. In the room among the numerous vases and bowls stood a cabinet about the same height of Chikaodili. He approached the cabinet and opened it. Hanging in it was a mask and a stick. The mask was long black and grey. The mask did not have a mouth, but had wide open eyes. The stick reached his shoulders and had many designs carved into it. He put the mask on, and picked up the stick, and made his way back down the hall. He did not stop to say bye to Chidinma.He exited his compound into the dark muggy night. Throughout the village there were other men wearing mask coming out of their compounds walking toward the structure on the hill, some of them running. Chikaodili looked across the dirt path. Exiting the mud compound across from him was a man dressed similarly to him. He wore a mask identical to Chikaodili`s, with the same stick. All that covered him was a black cloth that left his chest exposed. The moonlight reflected of his black skin. The man and Chikaodili began to walk toward each other. They met in the middle of the dirt path.“The village has been at peace for months” said the man. “Why do they call for us now?”Chikaodili chuckled. “I am not sure what they want” said Chiakaodili beginning to walk towards the hill. “But you’re starting to sound a lot like my wife.”“Nri has been in harmony for a time now” said the man sounding worried. “Them calling us for a meeting can only mean something bad has happened, and I hate to see the harmony end.”“Perhaps it’s nothing much” said Chikaodili optimistically. “I need you to make me a new spear” he said attempting to change the subject. “I want one stronger than my old one.”“Sure” the man said. “I’ll forge one from bronze tomorrow. I heard you had quite the yam crop this year.”“It was better than usual this year” said Chikaodili watching more men began to run up the hill. “I think we should hurry or we will be late.” The two men began to run toward the smoking structure on top of the hill. They structure began to come into view. It was a shelter with huge stone pillars supporting it. Chikaodili and the man walked under it. There were many men dressed like them all around a fire in the middle. The men mumbled among themselves wondering what was the purpose of the gathering. A few more men came.A man stood in the middle of the circle next to the fire. “Welcome brothers of Okonko, sworn to protect Nri kingdom, and the Igbo way of life. Tonight we are hear to warn you of a threat to our way of life. The threat has been prophesized by one of our brothers. He says that he saw in his dreams men white as ghost conquering us and enslaving our wives and children. The ghost men will take our peace ,and harmony, and replace it with greed, and love of power. The ghost men will be driven by greed. They will stop at nothing until they have conquered our people and taken our wealth.”All the men began to mumble. “Quiet” the man in the middle shouted. “In light of the serious nature of this prophecy, we have called upon the Eze to join us in this meeting.” mumbles once again erupted in the meeting room. “Quiet” the man said once again. “We will keep with Nri tradition and not identify who among us is Eze Nri Omalo.” The men looked around, attempting to see if they could identify the Eze, but they were not successful. “The floor is know open for debate” the man said.“Can’t we just fight of the ghost men” said a younger man in the far corner. “I will not sit idly by as they take my family.”“The ghost men will be strong” said the man in the middle. “The dream said they will have great weapons, and they will not be the only ones against us. Our enemies will also be involved. Our people will be sold like cattle, and domesticated like them.”“So there is no hope for us” said a voice from the crowd.“We must take the dream serious” said the man solemnly. “There isn’t must hope.” The room was quiet. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire.“All is not lost” said a voice coming from a corner. All the men looked to the corner to see a man coming out of the shadows into the light of the fire. “There is still hope” he continued.“How so” said the man in the circle.“The ghost men will take us throughout the world” said the new speaker. “We will be able to spread our empire, our way of life to all the world. We will be able to spread peace and harmony throughout the world. To the Eze, you will be able to rule the world. Our people will be dispersed to lands unknown. Eze Nri Omalo you will be able to rule it all. The Igbo people will rule it all.”“Who are you” interrupted the man in the middle.“Forgive me” the new speaker began again. “All you need to know is that I am a man with knowledge of spells”“Our people will be slaves” said another voice from the crowd. “They will forget the Igbo way, they will not spread our way.”“That’s where my knowledge comes into use” said the speaker again optimistically. “You see” he said smugly. “ I have developed a spell that we will put over all our children. The spell will spread to our children’s children, and so on. As long as there is at least on drop of Igbo blood the spell will work. The spell will take effect two thousand and ten years after the birth of the Jewish messiah. The spell will take affect and all those with at least one drop of Igbo blood will rise up and conquer their captors for the kingdom of Nri!” The men began to mumble once again.“The Igbo shall rule the world!” exclaimed one man in the congregation.“We shall” said the speaker. “We will bring peace to a world of greed and hate which will no doubt be the world of the ghost men. The ghost men think they can conquer us they have another thing coming.” The room erupted in cheers. “After tonight every child born after tonight shall have the spell placed upon them, and their children’s children shall conquer their oppressors. The Eze of two thousand and ten years after the death of the messiah of the Jews shall rule the world!” The room erupted in cheers again. The men jumped in celebration for the victory they would win in 2010.Chikaodili tapped his friend on the shoulder, and motioned for him to follow him. His friend followed. They began to walk down the hill away from the shelter. The noise of celebration was echoing from the shelter throughout the village.“The future does not sound to bright” said Chikaodili`s friend. “But it will lead to Nri ruling the world.”“That is a long time down the road though” Chikaodili said. “The prophecy says the Igbo will suffer much before then.”“But it will all be worth it” said Chikaodili`s friend. “The world will live by the way of the Igbo people”“ It was probably just a bad dream” said Chikaodili. “It is really hard to believe. Our people as slaves, men white as ghost, it is all just so hard to believe” Chikaodili said walking toward his compound. “Goodnight friend.”
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