Characters in our story are White, Black, Asian. Hispanic, Mayan...so far.A main enabler is a Aphra, an industrial spy co-opted for the 2012 political campaign--black, beautiful, sexually aggressive and decidedly "uppity".You can read some of Aphra's episodes in chronilogical sequence (not their order of posting) FIRSTSECONDTHIRDNote that the blog has a "tag cloud" and a list of "Scenarios" so people can track Isla episodes, as well as any favorite characters or other keywords.Read more…
AMALGAMACT IIPart two: The 1st AlliancesThe EMPIRE STRIKES!`The Tauntaun pulled up short as it reached the crest of this particular snowy hill. Luke reached down and patted the great beast’s neck in comfort.“What’s the matter girl?” he asked. “It’s just our new friends.”But the animal showed no sign of decreased agitation as it considered the goliath that stood a mere fifty meters away. A goliath so big that despite standing in a gully and over a quarter of it buried in snow still looked down on them.It metal was battle worn. Scorn and pitted but it still shown white where blast, and reentry burns had been cleaned off. At least three dwellings high if Luke guessed right, about as tall as the Millennium Falcon was long and then some. It stood on two legs that Luke had himself seen firing out engine thrust as it landed right in this very spot. Two mechanized arms held what he had first thought to be some kind of missile earlier but now knew that it was the primary weapon of the giant gladiator. It carried the gray oblong tube in the port arms position, ready to use it if need be.It’s head was similar to many droid head units he was familiar with although he knew that at the heart of what appeared to be a giant droid, was a very normal looking human. It was called a Veritech, the primary fighting unit of what the Rebel Alliance hoped would be their new allies.“All is clear in this sector. Although I can barely make out anything beyond the far ridge.” came a voice over Luke’s communicator. In accordance with the initial agreement the two sides, or three now as it were, would all provide security for these talks, jointly.“I’m going to check out a meteor that came down just over that ridge, then I’ll head in. The Tauntaun can’t take too much more of this cold.”Max Sterling watched as the rebel soldier directed the animal it road on over the far ridge. As far as he was concerned these “Rebels” were an amazing fighting force. Their ability to adapt to and adopt different methods, tools, and now cultures was something he thought The RDF could use. While his people had adapted to the Robotechnology fairly well, they would never have considered let alone been able to use a place such as this frozen world for a base of operations. They certainly would not attempt to domesticate alien beasts of burden let alone transport them to different worlds for their own use. But he figured that when up against an enemy such as this Empire, you had to take advantage of every possibility.The world was an ice world. The small rebel base, due to resource management and also for stealth, was made almost entirely of ice, snow and permafrost. That made keeping the materials and personnel warm particularly problematic.The members of the rebel Alliance wore their standard issue cold environment gear. They were used to having to deal with the harshest and most extreme environments. Staying ahead of the Empire required them to go way past the red safety line in many ways. The plans for this particular base had been in the works for a while, so when this planet had been found, they had stumbled onto a good opportunity. So they were having a much easier time dealing with the conditions of this world than their new friends.The Federation people were a little put out, but their cold weather gear was holding up well. They were not used to these harsh environments, worlds barely meeting the requirements to be considered “M-class”. They were not used to negotiating in unfamiliar territory, or from a tactically weak position. Their hosts were obviously dealing with the changes to the known universe a hell of a lot better than they themselves were. Although from what they were learning, the “Rebels” situation had not really gotten any worse. They were already running, hiding, and fighting a gorilla war against a vastly superior force. The Starfleet people had lost almost all contact with Federation space and had no idea how to get back or how to make contact. Something the newcomers could relate to.The Colonials had already lost their homes, 12 colony worlds that had been attacked and destroyed by a race of artificially intelligent beings known as the Cylons. Those whom had survived the attacks had banded together in a rag tag fleet of ships and fled in hopes of finding a rumored 13th colony on a world that was translated by the Federation computers as Earth. Already on the run and having already lost their homes the Colonials situation was actually looking better. They had found new allies, ones whom could possibly be their long lost brothers, descendants of that 13th colony. This prospect seemed to help keep the Colonial people warm for their gear was poorly suited to this environment.Only the group of people from Super Dimensional Fortress or SDF-1 for short, seemed to be openly optimistic. Their strange ship, that appeared to be three separate ships cobbled together, was the largest ship to make the rendezvous. It could be seen with the naked eye as it hung in low orbit. The small delegation they had sent comprised of a tall bright eyed chocolate skinned woman who had But the cold confines of the small hidden ice base did nothing to cool down the very heated discussion going on in the room the rebels had designated for their command operations. Representatives from more than half a dozen different groups plus a few smaller ones, meet around a conference table. It was standing room only for many of the personnel jammed into the Ops center. The meeting was clearly affecting the on technicians’ ability to monitor their systems. That did not inhibit the arguments going back and forth across the conference table.“Clearly we all have our own priorities and pressing concerns. But we all agree that our separate and individual agendas must be put on hold for the sake of this alliance?” Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise was a diplomat at heart. In his long tenure as Starship Captain he had sat in on and arbitrated many a negotiation or treaty between his Federation and many worlds. He was a mild looking man, a little past middle age, balding and slight of frame, a wild deviation from the sheer power of the vessel he commanded. Having seen the ship Enterprise in action, many of the Rebels were expecting its commander to be a more impressive, imposing, darker figure, not this small man. But slight as he was this Captain Jean-Luc Picard had a presence that did match his vessel. When he spoke there was not one person or being in the room who did not give him their full attention. His words rang clear and true across the conference table and there were nods of ascent, but another voice cut just as clear and just as strong.“The Alliance was here long before your people arrived Captain Picard,” She was Princess Leia Organa, leading figure in the Rebel Alliance. Like Picard she was small in stature but still commanded respect. But hers was gained not from her presence, which was not as impressive as Picard’s, but from her rightfully earned reputation. It was a reputation earned by taking on some of the most dangerous missions against the Empire, earned by fighting in some of the bloodiest battles and earned by facing their most terrifying enemy and living to tell the tale.“…but it won’t be here for too much longer if you don’t remove your ships from this system.”“The Enterprise’s long range sensors…” Picard began.“…Will not detect the Empires Star Destroyers until they are already on top of us.” She cut him off.“My science Officer has assured me that the Enterprise can be hidden in this systems Star’s magnetic field. Our analysis of your technology tells us that your long range detection capability is limited. You have led us to believe that Imperial technology is of the same class.”Leia Organa looked to the pale humanoid standing behind Captain Picard. The briefing she had been given on their new allies was rife with speculation. One of the strangest reports had been of this being; the android that looked like a man. Making androids appear humanoid to the point where they might be able to pass for a living sentient being was outlawed in the Republic a millennia ago. It was considered an abomination. She was not sure how she felt about the notion herself and she was also unsure what to think of a people who would do such a thing.“The Enterprise is ready to move into a concealed position at this very moment.” Picard continued. “As soon as we have coordinated with the ships that are unable to enter this planets atmosphere.”Standing behind his Commanding Officer and best friend, Col. Saul Tigh listened to the exchange between their new allies by holding the strange “Starfleet” device awkwardly by his ear. Unfamiliar ground he was thinking, but then that’s where they had been living, fighting, dying, ever since the Cylons nearly obliterated the human race. Or so they had thought. Here now were humans from if it was to be believed; other Universes.“We haven’t agreed to that.” Tighs head snapped up as his Commanders voice cut through the air. “We’ve looked at the coordinates you’ve proposed. That position is too close to the star. Our Ship won’t last long there.” Tigh was not sure his Commanding officer should have told them that. It was giving away too much Frakkin information about their defenses.“Yes Captain we know. However…” Their Commanding Officer answered. He may not have been a Cylon but from his bearing Tigh would bet a hundred cubits he was no military officer.“…However it is possible for my ship to extend its shields around your ship as well.”“How would we maintain proximity?” Adama was asking a the question but Tigh knew what he was really getting at.“We would simply link our computer systems…” the man name Picard began. Tigh answered for his commanding officer with a sharp: “FRAK THAT!”Luke was about to turn about. The snow fell so heavily on this world that the meteorite strike might have been covered up by the time he found the impact site. There was nothing to see here.But the Force nagged at him, filled him with an edgy awareness of something… impending. What could it be?So he took another the Tauntaun for another lap. Just one… and then he would head home back to base, warm power cell and some almost warm rations.Still the Force pulled at him despite the cold. If he allowed it to… if he let it…Luke found himself staring at an usually shaped mound of snow. It was something…Quickly he slid off his mount and trod through the snow towards the mound when it collapsed. The snow fell away to reveal a downed ship of some kind. The Force began to fill him with warning. Something was… impending. Behind him the Tauntaun began to bay fearfully. Luke almost turned back.“Woor…” but that came from the wreck! Was it possible that this ship was the meteorite that he had seen?He marched closer and could see the fumbling form of a man in the cockpit of the ship. Without too much trouble he ascended the wreck and pulled on the canopy hatch. This was no space worthy vehicle. It had come from somewhere else on this desolate ice world. He pulled on the canopy…and pulled…until finally it came open and in a rumble both he and the pilot fell into the snow.But the rumbling was not from the canopy popping open. Luke looked about as the very ground beneath them shook and quaked. He Tauntaun took off in fear.“Hey!” Luke called after it. “Wait!”“Wooorr…” the pilot, a dusty and disheveled man wrapped in the rags that would never keep him warm on this world was lolling about disoriented. As the ground began to roll even more Luke finally could make out what he was saying:“Wooor… Woor… WORMSIGN!”
Read more…
NEW DARK FICTION GUILD STARTSAuthors James Cheetham and G.A.Buchholz recently launched The Dark Fiction Guild (http://darkfictionguild.com), an international, members-only community for authors, editors, publishers and other creators of high quality Dark Fiction, a broad genre that includes expressions such as poetry, drama, music and media (in print, music, movies, TV and the Internet), and encompasses such sub-genres as horror, dark fantasy, suspense, occult, supernatural, gothic and neo-gothic works. You don't have to be a published author or have had your work professionally produced to qualify for membership, even though they have many professionals in their ranks.In just a couple of weeks, they've had nearly 100 people sign up for membership, many of whom are well-established authors, musicians, artists and other purveyors of the "dark arts." They're planning to launch a public Website for the Guild within a few months, but you can see the current homepage (http://darkfictionguild.com) without having to register. Registration for 2009 is free.If you'd like more information, contact G.A.Buchholz at DarkFictionGuildgmailcom.
Read more…
"Winner of Science Fiction Book of the Year 2009, San Francisco Book Festival"New Novel Traverses the Globe in Mind-Expanding, Action AdventureAdin Kachisi’s New Novel Weaves Drama, History, Myth, Cultural Expedition, RadicalismNEW YORK – At the core of Adin Kachisi’s riveting new novel, Rise of the Anakim: Tablets of Destiny (published by AuthorHouse), are one man’s travels across four continents in a desperate attempt to save the planet from apocalyptic extinction by both the acts of man and the vengeful hands of nature.In a post-9/11 world, Rise of the Anakim: Tablets of Destiny opens with a devastating mistake made by one man, Richard Mingler, a member of the ancient secret society of the Order of Kingu who chooses to unlock an inter-dimensional portal on the very grounds of the World Trade Center that had once kept Zamariel, a monstrous angelic being from entering this world. Zamariel has been brought for one reason only: to find a set of lost ancient keys.It is the year 2009, and the planet is experiencing global catastrophes ranging from earthquakes, volcanoes, floods and a social unrest that threatens to topple any illusion of order. It is in this atmosphere that Ethan Moore, a college professor in Harlem, travels with one of his favorite students, Rick, to Georgia in order to visit Rick’s Native American uncle. Upon meeting Rick’s uncle, he is also introduced to other Creek Native American elders who reveal the ancient prophecies of a purification of humanity as they enter a new age. Feeling a fated connection with his visit, the elders take Ethan to a secret cave where they unveil ancient stone tablets with prophetic inscriptions on them, commissioning Ethan to find the three missing crystal keys hidden around the globe in order to save the planet from destruction.Led by instinct alone, Ethan’s mission takes him first to Ireland and then Ethiopia, Zimbabwe and finally Korea in a mesmerizing quest which forces him to confront enormous challenges and inexplicable mysteries that test his faith, his beliefs, his academic knowledge and his very idea of reality. While traveling through these foreign lands, he must elude dark, criminal assassins working for the Order of Kingu and other ancient cults determined to bring about the apocalyptic extinction of humanity.Having been transformed in his consciousness and successful in his quest, Ethan returns home and joins the ceremony to unlock the planet’s regenerating energy potential with the crystal keys. At the dawn of new life for the planet, Ethan must face one final battle with Zamariel. Will Ethan be able to save the human race from destruction? Will humanity appreciate the gift they have been given or will a new, more corrupted system emerge?Rise of the Anakim: Tablets of Destiny is a mind-awakening experience and action-packed adventure that chronicles the journey and the struggle of humanity to survive in spite of supernatural adversity. Created to provoke, inspire and educate its readers as it explores the past, present and future possibilities for humanity, Rise of the Anakim: Tablets of Destiny is full of information about ancient history, folklore, contemporary issues, metaphysics and different cultures worldwide.Adin Kachisi is the author of three previous books: Depths of Melancholy, Tears of Ether and Beyond the Talented Tenth. His latest novel, Rise of the Anakim: Tablets of Destiny is a product of several years of research and literary creativity.To Order visit : www.authorhouse.com also available through amazon.com or your bookstoreOr call 888-728-8467Adin KachisiTel: (212) 810-7889Email: kachisia@yahoo.comwww.adinkachisi.comRead more…
SHE was in the basement again. It was pitch black, the only illumination a glowing, quarter moon etched into the floor. A burst of light split the darkness, and she moaned low in her throat. Please, I don’t want to see anymore…I don’t want to look. Yet her feet moved of their own volition, inching toward the mark…and the twisted bundle now lying in its center. A man was curled upon the stone. He wasn’t breathing, and his limbs were tiny and withered. But she knew he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t human. The daemon opened his eyes. I’ve been sleeping. But for how long? He could feel his arms and legs, but the sensations were muted as if they’d traveled from a great distance. Then he remembered. He’d been imprisoned – snatched from his body by the magic that had trapped him here. Even now sleep, like a delicious drug, threatened to overtake him. But he fought it away. How many centuries would pass while he slept? A doorway appeared in his mind and just beyond it, a tattered clump of flesh and bone…
Karla’s eyes flew open – the scream caught in her throat. It’s just a nightmare. I’m Ok. I’m here now, at home. The Indigo woman turned her head to look at the bedroom console. Six-thirty glowed on the screen. She scooted out of bed, picked up a remote from the nightstand and turned off the alarm. Karla walked across the wooden floor of her living area into a kitchenette. A press of her fingers on the first sphere of a triangular pod started coffee brewing. She filled a cup with chicory, walked back into the living area and pushed the second button on her remote, activating a blue panel beside the window. Jazz music filled the apartment. Like her bedroom console the unit kept time, transmitted holographic images and played tapes. Using the third button, she opened the curtains. Curled upon her futon, the Indigo woman watched as the illuminae changed Topaz’s violet sky into a mellow shade of peach. She thought of the dreams. For as far back as Karla could remember, she’d had them. Otherworldly, exquisite and always with an unsettling clarity so different from the normal phantasms she read about. When I eat, I wake 11 up full – and stay that way until lunchtime. If somebody hits me, it hurts like hell… And her dream lover left her limp with satisfaction, even after she awoke, sure he was still beside her. At night Karla wrote them down, pouring all of her fears and desires into the notebooks. She spent hours in the library, reading stories of reincarnation and demonic possession, searching for answers. She’d found them too – dozens of them. But none could satisfy the yearning that burned inside her. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep they beckoned, calling to her. Mornings, she awoke like a swimmer who’d been underwater for too long, grasping for the fabric of reality – moaning with pleasure or trembling with exhilaration. One night they’re going to swallow me whole. I’ll never wake up or maybe I’ll just fall through to whatever’s on the other side…and this new one, something’s different about it. I know the others but this one – this one scares me so bad I’m afraid to sleep. “What time is it?” The top left knob of her console blinked. “The time is 7:00 am,” a pert, female voice replied. Seven o’clock! I’d better hustle! Karla gulped down her coffee, and hurried back into the bedroom to dress.
Tehotep watched the tall, slender woman thumb through her closet. He wasn’t invisible, only dim. As long as he stayed in the shadows, she couldn’t see him. But noise couldn’t be cloaked by magic. The Indigo woman tossed a red knit, shirt and jeans on the bed, slipped off her pajamas and walked into the bathroom. As she stepped into the shower, the nozzle automatically clicked on, spraying her body with water. He followed, standing just beyond the doorway … Karla finished bathing, and Tehotep quickly moved back into the shadows – all the while devouring her with his eyes. Her skin, dewy with moisture, looked like melting chocolate her nipples, blackberries. She toweled off her full breasts and long legs and he licked his lips imagining the things he would do with her – to her – the endless perversions he’d force her to submit to. Things she’d come to enjoy, when she tried to please him. The young woman walked into the bedroom. He watched her pull up her panties, hook her bra, slip her arms into the straps. Image after image flooded his mind. Tehotep felt himself harden; a soft groan escaped his lips… 12 Karla froze then stared into the corner facing her bed. It’s only a bunch of dirty clothes, you’re hearing things! In that instant he appeared: an Indigo man with full lips, slanting onyx eyes and a shaven head. Voluminous garments hung from his muscular frame. Their eyes locked, and she gasped in recognition. The dark man smiled, nodded his head… And vanished. Karla gazed at the pile of laundry – all that remained of him – and wondered if she’d lost her mind. With trembling hands she finished dressing her thoughts scurrying about like rats in a maze. It’s him! I didn’t imagine it! He was here, but that’s impossible –! There was a knock at the door and she jumped. Get it together girl, that’s the twins. She walked into the living room, picked up her remote and pointed it at the entrance. It slid open and the eight-year-old twins, Carlos Jr. and Ashley, small and brown like their mother, ran inside. Ashley’s shoulder length braids were tied off with ribbons. “Good morning Karla,” they sang in unison, hugging her. “Good morning love bugs. What do you want for breakfast?” “Waffles,” said Ashley. Carlos Jr. flapped his hand at his sister. “You always want waffles. Make mine French toast.” When Karla and the twins’ mother had first become friends, Tatiana and Carlos were both working nights, and she’d offered to make breakfast for their children during the week. That was two years ago. Now Tatiana worked as a beautician, although her mate still worked evening shifts at the metal emporium. But fixing meals for the twins had become a habit Karla didn’t want to break. She was crazy about them, and Topaz’s food prices were next to nothing. “Coming right up.” The dark woman took milk and breakfast pellets from her cold box, and slid the nuggets into a diamond shaped oven. In twenty seconds, they expanded with heat. “Done,” the oven announced. The children sat at the table, just outside the kitchenette. Karla served them, walked into the living area and took a cipher from the box on the coffee table. She lit it and puffed nervously; with the other hand combing her fingers through her short, 13 wavy hair. “Smoking is stinky,” Ashley pronounced her mouth full of waffles. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” How did he get in my apartment? Piss on that! How did he get out? “Mommy’s mad at Daddy ‘cause he ain’t been home in two days!” Carlos Jr. announced, snapping her back to the present. “Hasn’t, not ain’t and your mother probably wants to tell me about it herself,” Karla scolded gently. “Yeah,” piped Ashley, “don’t tell family business.” There was a knock at the door, she opened it and Tatiana strolled in: an Indigo woman with her hair coiled into tiny braids. “Hey girl.” Tatiana greeted her. “Hey yourself, want some coffee?” “Definitely,” the petite woman flopped on the couch, “Kids hurry up; the transport unit will be here in minute.” After the twins left for school, the women sat on Karla’s futon drinking coffee. “Carlos hasn’t been home in two days.” “Your son already told me.” Karla eyed her friend with concern. “So what are you gonna do?” “I don’t know.” “You said the next time he pulled this shit, you were gonna put him out.” Tatiana stared into her cup. “When he comes back, I’ll talk to him –really talk to him,” she mumbled. “He‘s got to get it together, or find someplace else to stay.” “Yeah, you said that last time too.” “Karla he’s a good man and he loves me, he’s just got issues! His daddy used to beat him up. Carlos gets depressed when he thinks about it so he smokes rush. He doesn’t do it every day – ” The dark woman gritted her teeth. “Ti, I don’t wanna hear that shit! He’s a junkie – if he was serious about dealing with his addiction, he’d check into a clinic!” Tatiana’s small, oval face narrowed with anger. “I’m not one of your residents so don’t preach to me, Ok? It’s my life and my man!” “I’m not trying to preach,” Karla said softly. She touched her friend’s hand. “It’s just that you deserve better – better than him. You need a man that’s gonna be there for you all the time. Not somebody who keeps giving you love, and taking it back.” 14 “Look, I know what you’re saying, up here,” Tatiana tapped the side of her head with her fingertip, “but relationships aren’t simple, they’re tangled like vines. You don’t make up your mind to leave someone you love just like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “You ever been in love?” “Uh-huh, I have.” “Really, with who? I mean, I’ve never seen you with anybody for more than a few months.” “With – ” a brown face appeared in her mind’s eye. Loved. Cherished. But Karla had never met him – not while she was awake. She looked sheepish. “It’s been a while.” The Indigo woman furrowed her brow. “So long ago you don’t remember his name? Then you weren’t in love.” Karla avoided Tatiana’s searching eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about him,” she fumbled for the words to stop her friend’s questions, “it’s too painful.” “Oh, it’s like that huh? I understand…Karla, he took my ID card.” “Damn! How’re you going to make through the week?” The petite woman shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.” She set her cup on the table. “Thanks for the coffee.” “You need some credits?” “Probably…I’ll let you know. You better get going.” Karla activated the door lock then watched Tatiana slowly climb the steps to her flat. How could Carlos do this to her again?
The elderly woman held the curtain back from her window. She was short with large eyes, a wide nose and full lips a shade lighter than her ebony skin. Her thick salt and pepper hair was twisted into two braids atop her head. Her calico spotted cat, Nutmeg, rubbed against her legs, meowing plaintively, but she ignored him. Opal watched the tall, Indigo woman descend the stairs and cross the street. Once Karla was out of sight, she opened the door, walked down the hallway to the back exit and followed the brick path into her garden. There was a pecan and cherry tree, a profusion of roses, lilacs and daises, and the bees were having their breakfast. The garden square was hemmed in by apartment buildings and faced a tool shed. She continued down the end of the path to the shed. This time Nutmeg didn’t follow and he’d ceased to beg for attention. Instead, he 15 sat solemnly on his haunches and watched her pick up a can of oil, and a rag from beside the doorway. Opal oiled the door hinges and wiped away the excess. She squirted more oil on the cloth and rubbed it into the door. Anyone observing this ritual would see an elderly woman polishing a tool shed. If they looked more closely, they’d notice her whispering to herself and think she was senile. And that was just fine with her. The old woman stepped back: admiring her handiwork. She strolled up the little path, and took a seat in one of the cushioned lawn chairs beneath her trees. Nutmeg stopped harassing the bees, bounded over and wound himself around her legs. Opal reached down and stroked his back. The illuminae was beautiful today. Perhaps she’d linger a bit and enjoy it.
Dressed in breeches and sandals, Joie rode through the forest of his ancestors. The illuminae filtered through the trees, sketching filigrees in the mulch below. The warrior was tall, with reddish brown skin, almond eyes and high cheekbones. Jet black hair hung loosely about his shoulders. Silver and turquoise rings dangled from his ears and wrists. Joie was half asleep, his muscular thighs loosely gripping the mare’s flanks, for she knew the way to their favorite stream better than he did. They reached the brook and he dismounted, kneeled and splashed water upon his face and neck, finally cupping a pool in his hands to drink. “Joseph…” He glanced around, instantly wary. The forest was teaming with supernatural life – and not all of it friendly. Among the most dangerous were Wood Sprites – forest succubae that took the form of human women to capture men. Their victims slowly starved to death, losing all grasp of time as they languished in their captor’s embrace. A mahogany shaded woman emerged from the grove of trees to his right...
Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson 2007, 2009 all rights reserved available at barnes & noble, pubit www.amazon.com, kindle
Special issue: Race and Ethnicity in Fandom (Summer 2011)Transformative Works and Cultureshttp://journal.transformativeworks.org/http://community.livejournal.com/fight_derailing/4761.htmleditor AT transformativeworks.orgSPECIAL ISSUE EDITORSSarah Gatson (Gatson AT tamu.edu), Sociology, Texas A&M University,http://sociweb.tamu.edu/faculty.php?faculty_id=12Gatson@tamu.eduRobin Reid (Robin_Reid AT tamu-commerce.edu), Literature andLanguages, Texas A&M University-Commerce,http://www.tamu-commerce.edu/litlang/reid.asp?menuName=people&pageName=facultyRobin_Reid@tamu-commerce.eduPlease feel free to forward to other listservs, individuals, and to postonline!DESCRIPTION_Transformative Works and Cultures_ (TWC), an online-only,peer-reviewed journal focusing on media and fan studies, broadlyconceived, invites contributions for a special issue on race andethnicity to be published in summer 2011.Academic scholarship on fan cultures and fan productions over the pastfew decades has focused primarily on gender as the sole category ofanalysis. There has been little published scholarship on fan culturesand productions that incorporates critical race theory or draws on therich array of methodologies that have been developed during the pastcentury in both activist and academic communities in order toincorporate analysis of the social constructions of race andethnicities in fandoms.In contrast, fan activism and fan scholarship (at cons, workshops, andon the Internet) has produced a growing body of work (personalnarratives, essays, carnivals, and in recent months, a press) focusingon not only analyzing but also confronting hierarchies of race andethnicity and their relationship to gender, sexuality, class, anddisability. Submissions by academics, acafans, fan scholars, and fansare encouraged. In all categories, people of color are especiallyencouraged to submit.Topics might include but are not limited to:*Online activism and the circulation of critical race theory and womenof color feminisms in fan communities, in particular the relationshipbetween fan online discourse and other online activist communities.*Critical analysis of the instantiation and critique of racialhierarchies in fan communities and the surrounding culturalproductions.*Racist and antiracist issues in commercial transformative works(comics, film, mashups, remixes, machinima, etc.), especiallyrecuperative race readings (e.g., Randall's _The Wind Done Gone,_Rhys's _Wide Sargasso Sea_).*Race concerns in source texts (characters of color and their fannishreception, fandoms for work by authors of color, writing fannishoriginal characters, etc.) and fannish responses (such as the CarlBrandon Society, Verb Noire, and other panfannish and professionalprojects).*Intersection of race and ethnicity with gender, sexuality, class, andability in fannish contexts in fan works and fan communities(pre-Internet, Internet, conventions, vids, fan fiction, artwork,etc.).SUBMISSIONSSubmit final papers directly to TWC by October 1, 2010. Please visitTWC's Web site (http://journal.transformativeworks.org/) for completesubmission guidelines. Please contact the guest editors with questionsor inquiries.ARTICLE TYPESTheory: Apply a conceptual focus or theoretical frame. Peer review.5,000-8,000 words.Praxis: Apply a specific theory to a formation or artifact; explicatefan practice; perform a detailed reading of a specific text; relatetransformative phenomena to social, literary, technological, and/orhistorical frameworks. Peer review. 4,000-7,000 words.Symposium: Provide insight into developments or debates surroundingfandom, transformative media, or cultures. Editorial review.1,500-2,500 words.
Read more…
At the other end of the purity spectrum stood "Austin Stoneman:" abolitionist and all around bad guy. What's more he has a Black mistress: "Lydia Brown!" Stoneman's character was actually patterned to resemble Thaddeus Stevens, a true to life antislavery congressional leader and is he's thus depicted as: the leader who would force the South to grant blacks equal rights.Lydia as both his housekeeper and mistress is described as the "the weakness that is to blight a nation" (Leab, 1975 P.27).Too Black to pass for White, yet too White to live among her own kind, Lydia is the classic tragic mulatto and a powerful symbol. She is the femme fatale: the archetypal bitch who leaves death and destruction in her wake.Notice, readers if you will, her "male" characteristics: she is power hungry, aggressive and refuses to humble herself before White males. Throughout Birth of a Nationshe anguishes over her predicament as a Black woman in a hostile white world (Bogle, 1973; p.14).And Lydia is (drum roll if you please) sexual. No greater sin hath any woman. In fact, she is Birth of Nation's only passionate woman. Thus the myth of passion and sexuality as evil, as Original Sin, and of woman as its bearer was recreated on the Silver Screen....[Austin] determined to bring the South to its knees after itsdefeat is momentarily trapped by her Lydia's animalistic vibes...[She] "is his one weakness and the cause of his downfall (Bowser, p. 44)Juxtaposed between two polarities of Black and White stood Mammy: the asexual, Aunt Tomasina fiercely devoted to preserving the status quo. Griffith ever the demonic genius added another element to the Mammy configuration: Sapphire, a creature one part Mammy, one part Amazon; the Black woman who is an shrew in her relationship with Black men, the mythic ball buster and castrator of the Black male.Sapphire would become a full blown myth during the 1930s (Amos and Andy) to be reborn as the Black Matriarch of the 1960s.Whatever else Griffith was, he was a trend setter, and the molds he cast dominated the Silver Screen fordecades to come. For example in his portrayal of Mammy as dark skinned, he set the stage for the typecasting of darker Black women as unattractive well into the Civil Rights era.A dark black actress was considered for no role butthat of a mammy or aunt jemima. On the other hand, thepart-black woman -- the light skinned Negress -- wasgiven a chance at lead parts and graced with a modicumof sex appeal...In fact it was said in 1958 and 1970 thatthe reason why such actresses as Eartha Kitt in AnnaLucasta and Lola Falana in The Liberation of L.B. Jonesfailed to emerge as important screen love goddess wasthat they were too dark (Bogle, 1973; p.15).Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers 1997, 2009 all rights reserved
Read more…
Another bit of the Ironics story. I've been dusting off the pieces and looking them over and trying to decide if I will ever put them together and make them into something worth reading. This story was written before the one I posted previously. I keep coming back to this one, thinking that something is there, but I haven't returned to write it through to the end.The Ironic DreamTally’s breath was hot on Garren’s face. Garren closed his eyes against the steady press of air. Their bodies were tangled inside of the small space. Their pelvises touching, his legs spread, her two in between, his right arm encircling her waist, her right arm around his neck, their faces pushed together, her lips on his cheek by the bridge of his nose. All they had to do was stay quiet, stay intertwined, stay in hiding for a few more minutes and they would be back to their landing without being detected.Garren counted to himself. 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005…Noe had promised that they would be safe before 5000 measures. Two humans smuggled through the unsettled territories in the forbidden market cargo haul of an Ironic who traded outside of his kind would carry a large reward. Garren did not trust the oct-born Ironic with his life, but he was sure that Noe would never allow anything to happen to Tally. And that certainty would have to be enough.Garren felt himself being lulled by the hum of the vehicle and the feeling of the road passing underneath the wheels. He lost count. His aching muscles went numb. Sleep found him wedged between the woman he loved but couldn’t have and the hard metal backing of a crate.The dream began like it always had. Tally was standing waist deep in a pool of clear green water waving for him to join her. As usual he was unable to heed her plea no matter how much he longed to run out into the still surf. His feet were rooted to the ground and his body was rigid. Just behind Tally a figure rose out of the water, startling her. She turned and screamed as the tall Ironic grabbed her by both arms. Garren fought with his paralyzed body as the Ironic dragged her down. And just as her head sank beneath the surface, Garren’s attention was drawn to a movement to the extreme right of his field of vision and found he could move.Garren. A whisper on the wind chilling him from the top of his scalp to the soles of his feet.This was different. There was usually only the nightmare of Tally being pulled under. Garren watched his dreamself shift and move toward the sound. Expecting one person, Garren’s two selves – the dream one and the sleeping one who watched- were both confused when their eyes sought the voice and found its source not in one person but a veritable army of Ironics.I am meant for you.Garren was jostled awake when the car hit a bump in the road.“What did you say?” Tally inquired in a softer whisper than the one Garren had just heard in his dreams. His cheek tingled with each flex of her mouth as she spoke. “I am meant for you? What are you talking about?”“Shh, Tally. Be quiet.” Garren closed his eyes. He had no answer to her inquiry and everything his mind offered as an explanation would embarrass him and complicate their precarious situation even further. How could he tell her that he loved her when he was certain that she knew? How could he still love her after she had chosen to give herself to Noe and be marked by him? Ironics were not yet the enemy of their landing but they would be once the people found out about the true extent of their powers and ambitions. For now, the Ironics were to be feared and to be watched because the humans knew they had the ability to withstand great amounts of pain and force. When he revealed the secret of the Ironics, told the others how they jumped from body to body and read minds, showed the Council proof, the tenuous peace would end. Garren swallowed and tried not to hack. His throat was dry and raw and there was no salvia to lubricate his gulp. Tally would hate him.The cargo door was open and they were being lifted out before Garren allowed himself to open his eyes again. The place where Noe warehoused his illegal goods was a large windowless building. The humming light cubes suspended from the ceiling cast an omnipresent glow. There were no shadows in the cavernous space and Garren’s raw nerves felt even more exposed than they had been since he and Tally had been sent to investigate the Ironics.Out of the crate, just out of Garren’s embrace, Tally was in Noe’s arms. The Ironic dwarfed her and she seemed to revel in his alienness. Garren stared. Noe would be the first one the Council would want to kill Tally would hate him. And he would be glad.
Read more…
Posted by The Cushite on April 25, 2009 at 12:43pm
Email BlackAgeofComics@ECBACC.com to be added to the East Coast Black Age of Comics Convention email list.See our Application Forms page for more information about volunteering or purchasing an admission to the convention.www.ecbacc.comRead more…
This is our first year as participants in Book Expo America - the premier event for the North American publishing industry - and we are plenty excited. BookExpo America will be held this year from Thursday, May 28 through Sunday, May 31 at the Jacob K. Javits Center in New York, NY.We thought it would be a good choice, even though we are painfully small, since the expo was slated to come to Washington, DC in 2010. All of that has been changed (to our chagrin), perhaps due to the economy. The BEA is now staying at the Javits Center for 3 more years.Sigh.Anyway, we will be there with our three new books: Federal City View, The Long, Steep Climb, and AfroCyberspace. We will also have previews of Insane Messiah - a speculative fiction book that delivers in October 2009. We will be offering special discounts on all orders placed during the show and free shipping on full case orders. We will also be promoting the Black Author Showcase community.Come by and check out our catalog, meet our authors, or just to say hi and give support. This is a big step for us and we look forward to meeting existing and new friends.Visit us at booth 2148 Directly behind the Tom Joyner Foundation (2248) - don't miss us!
Read more…
The article sidebar Issues of Race in SF in this weeks' (April 13th) Publishers Weekly has a quote from BAS founder and 22nd Century Press publisher, Diane Williams.Writer Rose Fox takes a quick look at two presses who produce speculative fiction for non-white readers and authors.http://www.publishersweekly.com/article/CA6651138.html"Publishers Weekly", "22nd Century Press", "Black Author Showcase", SciFi, writers, authors, books
Read more…
NOTE: The following is an article that I submitted to Publisher's Weekly for their "ethnic" sf edition, the week of April 13, 2009. PW contacted me and said they liked it but could only use parts of my story and not the entire piece. I wanted to share with the BSF SOCIETY my complete thoughts on how the mainstream industry should approach the development and promotion of Black SF.
What Makes Science Fiction and Fantasy Afrocentric?
The publishing world has seen the swelling growth and profitability of Black romance and urban novels. Booksellers and public libraries are stocking their shelves with publications that offer gritty tales of the dark mean streets or outrageous Black gangsters. But there is another wave on the horizon; another genre that may soon rival the expensive cars, dangerous pimps and desperate ex-cons; a rising tide of titles that offer hi-tech space ships, cunning barbarians, and savvy time travelers featuring African Americans characters in Black sci-fi and fantasy.Black Science Fiction (or Afrofuturism) as well as “Sword-and-Soul” loosely can be defined as an intellectual and cultural movement that explores the African American relationship with new technology, musings of the future, and heroic fantasies.Sci-fi and its cousins featuring characters of Caucasian background have been around since Jules Verne and H. G. Wells in the 1800s. But today what defines “Black” sci-fi? It is more than simply putting a dark tan on Flash Gordon or giving Superman kinky hair. In my humble opinion (IMHO), before any fantasy, sci-fi, or other speculative fiction story can be classified as Black or African American oriented it must meet at least three of the following five conditions:1) The author should be of African heritage2) The main character should be Black3) The setting should be in Africa or Harlem4) Historical or current social conditions should be unique to people of color5) The narrative or dialogue should resonant with “Blackness”The Author Should be of African HeritageAn obvious indicator that a sci-fi novel truly may be Afrocentric is if its author is Black. Samuel Delany, Charles Saunders, Octavia Butler, Steven Barnes and many others are Black authors who write afrocentric sci-fi. Yet, all good writers have the ability to offer stories told from a variety of viewpoints. Delany, winner of the Nebula Award for 1966 and 1967, offers stories where skin color is not an issue and is not even mentioned. In Butler’s Xenogenesis Series, aliens are the main characters with only an occasional appearance of a person of color. Conversely, Mike Resnick a white author who has won 5 Hugo awards, creates well crafted sci-fi tales about Africa and people of African descent in Kirinyaga: A Fable of Utopia and Ivory: A Legend of Past and Future.Main CharacterAfrican American readers yearn for strong Black characters in their sci-fi and fantasy literature; male or female, hero or villain. On the web at the Black Science Fiction Society ( http://www.Blacksciencefictionsociety.com ) or the Black Author Showcase (www.Blackauthors.ning.com ) bloggers complain of not having enough Black Superheroes. Personally, I’d rather see more Black villains; more would-be-world-conquerors, psychotic punishers seeking bloody revenge, and mad geniuses constructing grandiose schemes of self-gratification. Without the Joker, Batman would be a sad vigilante chasing purse snatchers in dark alleys. Strong Black sci-fi villains, give us even stronger Black heroes and noteworthy, award-winning authors. My vote for the strongest Black villain to date would be Doro in Octavia Butler’s Wild Seed and Mind of My Mind.The Setting: Africa or HarlemMost Sword-and-Soul is set in Africa or an analogue of an Africa-like place on a different planet or other reality. Harlem, New York, or a similar urban neighborhood can be a proper geographic location for Black sci-fi. George Schuyler’s Black Empire uses Harlem and Africa as important backdrops. These locales allow characters to interact with people of color and be closely involved with the problems and solutions at the street or village level. Of course, Black people inhabit every corner of the planet, but its where Black communities have traditionally endured and prospered that makes this type of setting an important element in Black Sci-Fi. It is impractical, however, for a novel to include only one setting, but at the very least, the main characters should travel and have some significant interaction in Africa or in an urban community.Historical or Social Conditions Unique to People of ColorUntil around the 18th Century, slavery was not inflicted upon a person solely because of color or race. Anyone who lost a war or the favor of the king or chief could be tossed into slavery. However, in America, the heartless bondage of human beings became an uniquely Afrocentric institution. Jim Crow and Civil Rights issues also most adversely affected African Americans. Using time-travel, Butler’s Kindred was an illuminating example of the effects of slavery on Black people, past and present. Furthermore, African Americans have a special influence on world culture but not just limited to music (blues, jazz or hip hop) and sports (basketball, boxing); for instance, Black soldiers faced unique circumstances on the homefront and on the battlefield. Black fiction should employ a variety of special circumstances in a story.Narrative and DialogueThank the lucky stars, that most first-rate, modern writers don’t over populate their work with slang, jargon, or southern dialect that makes reading tedious: “You wants to keep 'way fum de water as much as you kin, en don't run no resk, 'kase it's down in de bills dat you's gwyne to git hung.” – Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Yet, good writers can subtly select the right words and context to let readers know that a Black character is speaking. The very best writers can create characters who change their patterns of speech depending upon to whom the characters are communicating. Moreover, the language and description of events in a Black speculative work must be “hip” as well as reflect the collective mind of the Black diaspora.SummaryThis assessment of what makes fiction “really” Black is by no means a rigorous dissertation nor critical analysis of the conditions that must occur to guarantee the ethnicity of a literary work because there are so many exceptions to the rules. Consider these thoughts to be general guidelines to make the promotion of Black Sci-fi and Fantasy more profitable.About the Writer:Stafford L. Battle is the author of Insane Messiah (22nd Century Press, 2009); Afrocyberspace:1000+ Websites That Will Enrich Your World (22nd Century Press, 2009); The African American Resource Guide to the Internet and Online Services (McGraw-Hill, 1996). According to Mr. Battle, his sci-fi novel Insane Messiah best satisfies the following conditions. 1) The author is an African American; 2) The main characters are Black, and 3) Africa is a primary setting in the book.Copyright 2009, Stafford Battle & 22nd Century Press, LLC
Read more…
Annabelle wanted to touch him. So used to taking whatever she wanted, she was moved when *** shyly pulled her closer… He molded his body to hers, his breathing echoing her own: ragged and harsh.“Let’s go outside,” he whispered. The Indigo woman let him lead her one block away into an alleyway. She threw her arms about his neck…and their tongues danced... (censored)Annabelle lifted one leg to curl around him…she was giving of herself with no quarter -- tossing care to the wind. What spell had this human cast over her with his soft eyes and whispers, his compassion and longing?With a moan she let him carry her forward into a river of desire… (censored)From the corner of her eye she saw them.Three men blocked the alleyway. The leader standing at the forefront was Indigo; another to his right and behind him Fuchsia; and the man to his left Amber. They were dressed in planet uniforms. But their tunics were unbuttoned and the interlocking green tattoos on their chests and bellies marked them as Scorpion gang members.Now Annabelle remembered that Topaz gangs roamed the streets after dark preying on those unfortunate -- or foolish -- enough to be out.*** saw them and pulled away from her, hastily zipping up his pants. The Indigo man smiled unpleasantly: “My turn next, right brother?” His friends laughed.She pulled her skirt down, her eyes darting from one to the other. None of them was holding a weapon. Confident that they outnumbered their prey, they hadn’t bothered to draw them. But she spied the knives and firearms holstered in their waistbands.Annabelle waited for the inevitable.*** stepped in front of her, hands held out in a gesture of surrender. “We don’t have any money, man!”“Oh I can’t see that,” the leader rumbled. “Good thing we don’t want any, right?” The thugs laughed again. “You standing in front of what we want. Now if you’ll just move outta the way, we’ll help ourselves.”“Come on man -- !” *** pleaded.“I said move!”*** didn’t bulge, though he was shaking. For the second time that day, she was shocked. He was ready to give up his life…for her?“Please, just let us go home --”The leader pulled the blade from pants, pressed its button and a six inch knife popped out. “You don’t do hear so good -- do you?” He advanced on them.Like lightening she blurred around ***, grabbed him by his shoulders and breathed green midst into his mouth.“What the f--- ?!”“Shit!”Even before *** eyes glazed over in hypnosis she turned to face the Indigo thug, her tunic whipping around in speed. The dark woman grabbed his throat, lifted him and threw him across the street… While his friends looked on in stunned amazement.As he slammed into the lamp post there, she leaped --airborne -- and touched down to meet him swinging her foot in a roundhouse arc against his temple. His head whipped to the right and she heard a satisfying snap, as his neck broke.Behind Annabelle his friends had regained their senses and, exchanging incredulous glances, pulled their tasers and leveled them at her back. Topaz could be a strange place, especially at night. After all, this was the Time of Legend. Best not to dwell on it.Annabelle jumped into the air -- taser fire shattered the windows behind the lamp post where she’d stood only a moment ago -- and landed in front of them. Laughing, she snatched the weapons from their grasp, and dropped them to the concrete.The nosferatu shoved the Fuchsia man into the building on her right, knocking the wind out of him. His Amber crony screamed in terror and fled.Annabelle jerked the Fuchsia’s thug head to the side violently and drank....Copyright 2008 Valjeanne Jeffers all rights reserved
Read more…
..°º¤ø„¸
This is our first year as participants in Book Expo America - the premier event for the North American publishing industry - and we are plenty excited. BookExpo America will be held this year from Thursday, May 28 through Sunday, May 31 at the Jacob K. Javits Center in New York, NY.We thought it would be a good choice, even though we are painfully small, since the expo was slated to come to Washington, DC in 2010. All of that has been changed (to our chagrin), perhaps due to the economy. The BEA is now staying at the Javits Center for 3 more years.Sigh.Anyway, we will be there with our three new books: Federal City View, The Long, Steep Climb, and AfroCyberspace. We will also have previews of Insane Messiah - a speculative fiction book that delivers in October 2009. We will be offering special discounts on all orders placed during the show and free shipping on full case orders. We will also be promoting the Black Author Showcase community.Come by and check out our catalog, meet our authors, or just to say hi and give support. This is a big step for us and we look forward to meeting existing and new friends.Visit us at booth 2148 Directly behind the Tom Joyner Foundation (2248) - don't miss us!
