So that’s why I like to use the word “distance.” On parallel tracks, each respecting the other and each keeping an eye on the other. Sometimes we collide, sometimes we co-exist in harmony. Someday maybe we will work together to produce a cross-cultural being, something even better than what has come before.
Do you think that “real science fiction and fantasy” should be without borders? Can you give an example of a story or book that you’ve read which qualifies?
Compared to other types of fiction, science fiction and fantasy seem to have more of a tendency to go beyond borders. That’s because in many eras national borders are erased and in space, all sorts of beings get to mix together. There are aliens which look like fish, and in many science fiction and fantasy novels the protagonist is a foreigner. But I think that real science fiction and fantasy needs to have a clear sense of place, something that can only happen in that time and that place. If you change the place then it just doesn’t work anymore. Liu Cixin’s “Village Teacher” and “Chinese Sun” both do a very good job of this.
About the Author
Nick Stember is a Chinese to English translator of Chinese comics /manhua/ and speculative fiction. His work has been featured on the websites of The Comics Journal, Paper Republic, Danwei, Frog in a Well, FluentU, Optical Sloth, Tor, Boing Boing, iO9, Rolling Stone, the BBC World Service, and the South China Morning Post. Most recently, he has been working as consultant for Stone Bridge Press and Storycom.
"Currently a Masters student in the Department of Asian Studies at the University of British Columbia, Nick lives in Vancouver, BC. In 2013 he spent three months living in Blaine, WA, commuting across the border on a ten-speed bicycle. He is currently working on a project to build the world’s first English language encyclopedia of Chinese comics and animation, the Encyclopedia Manhuannica.
Another Word:
An Anxious Introvert’s Guide to the Con Experience
Genevieve Valentine
1. Why are you here? You should not have come here, what were you even thinking, this is all you packed to wear and now you’re wearing it and it’s not like you can get any other clothes on such short notice so this is just what you’re stuck with and everyone is assuming this is the best you’ve got. Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, you’re here, it’s happening.
2. Did you come here on a plane? Dang, you really committed, nice job! Try not to spend too much of the weekend anxiously wondering if that TSA employee thought you were rude when you took your boarding pass back when really you just wanted to make sure you got in a line that still had plastic tubs because waiting for plastic tubs while getting stinkeye from fellow passengers probably would have been worse than just giving possible accidental stinkeye to one TSA employee, but you’re not sure. You’ll never be sure. (If you drove, tell no one; you’ll be hauling groups around like the first kid in your class with a driver’s license.)
3. You don’t know anybody here yet, but that’s fine, it’s cool. In movies people constantly go to bars alone and people come up and talk to them and they sip from drinks that never spill, so you have been doing your research on this for easily a decade. Make it thirty seconds before you pick up your phone; if you’re feeling bold, find some other person who looks alone and vaguely panicked about it and say, “Does this taste poisoned to you?” as a hilarious opening joke. Never, ever live it down. That TSA employee will seem like child’s play after this.
4. You find people you know! You’ll chat happily until people you don’t know join the conversation, at which point you’ll get so distracted trying to determine the existing relationships among everyone in the circle and whether or not you personally like the newcomers that you utterly lose track of the conversation and by the time you zone in again they’ll have stopped talking about the book you love and are now talking about Firefly and you’re left trying to decide if it’s worth it to wait for things to cycle over to a new topic or just abandon them to Joss Whedon and start over from scratch.
5. You see three panels. The audience members are comment-not-question types, because of course they are, but you get some nice notes out of the main conversation because the panelists are all great.
6. Except on your panel, where the moderator opens with a question about why there’s so much political correctness in the genre and two of the panelists nod firmly and this panel technically hasn’t even started yet but here it is and this is how it’s going to go and you are worried that if you reach for the water you’ll knock it over so your voice just gets more and more smoked-out every time you lean into the mic and desperately try to counter the foolishness with something awesome that nobody listens to.
7. After the panel, someone might come up and thank you for your efforts. If you think this person seems cool, buy them a drink, because you’ll both need one. Enjoy what you hope is this calm, respectful lull with a compatriot who won’t say anything racist or sexist.
8. You’re sharing a room? Awesome! Built-in breakfast buddy! Unless they have other plans. (It’s probably nothing to do with you. Probably.) You know the rules of sharing a space—don’t use more than half the storage space, be quiet when you come home late, you’ve got this. Try not to sit awake, listening to the pattern of their breathing, wondering if they’re really asleep even though they have no reason to lie to you, or when they’ll start snoring or—oh my God, oh my God—when they’ll stop breathing and then someone you only vaguely know is dead in your hotel room and wow, will you ever look guilty. What are you going to do? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT YOUR DEAD BREAKFAST BUDDY?
(Day one, it might worry you if they have different plans for breakfast. Day two you’ll be so wiped from the parties that you won’t even wake up until noon. By day three, you’ll have barely fallen asleep after the parties and you still won’t be sure how to move your facial muscles in socially-acceptable ways, so just plan to resort to the arm-sized menu they hang on your doorknob and get room service breakfast. It’s more expensive than you can possibly afford, but at this point, being alone in the room is worth an eight dollar glass of juice.)
9. It’s definitely creepy to try to find out where people you know are by using Twitter, and if you aren’t sure whether or not real-time selfies are a map to their present location, better just to pretend you don’t see them. Feel free to scan public areas, but there are places you can invite yourself and places you have to wait to be invited. Pool? Sure. Bar? Great. The Applebee’s down the road? Godspeed their poor souls and let them be; Applebee’s is its own punishment.
10. You’ll end up eating at Applebee’s at least twice.
11. Try to get six hours of sleep a night! (Who are we kidding, you’ll get three. For every lost hour, add the cost of a cup of coffee. The last thing you need at this point is to be so tired you make another joke about poison, and it’s not like you were going to come home from this thing with any money left anyway.)
12. Speaking of which: Is it already Saturday? Have you done any business? Welp, too late.
13. Find a weird place near the hotel—the upper parking tier, the odd set of lawn chairs randomly on a patio next to the dumpsters—and plan to hang out there alone at least once. When you inevitably need it, you will feel like you’re heading for, instead of running from, and it will make a big difference in how you feel once you get there. Then let the symphony of industrial air conditioners wash over you.
14. The book room is amazing, and you won’t regret a second of the time spent browsing there, if you can avoid being roped into awkward conversation by strangers. Can you? Well, you CAN, you’ve seen spy movies. Will you blend in and become invisible? You’ll find out.
15. If you and someone else really want to catch up, leave the premises. It’s the only way to be sure you can be alone. Even then, consider splitting up and meeting at a prearranged location (you can do it, you’ve been practicing spy stuff). If anyone sees you, you’re doomed to a dinner for ten and two hours of small talk that erupts into an argument over the tip. Bet prear
ranging that location sounds less silly than it did a sentence ago.
16. Don’t forget to make it to the airport at least three hours before your plane so you have plenty of time to worry about whether you left the kettle on at home/whether you’ve ruined your reputation without having to do it in front of all the people in the security line.
17. You should go to more cons, though. They’re crucial for your career.
About the Author
Genevieve Valentine’s short fiction has been published in magazines and anthologies including Clarkesworld; her third novel, Persona, was released this spring. Her essays and criticism have appeared at The New York Times, NPR.org, and the LA Review of Books. She is currently the writer of DC's Catwoman.
Editor’s Desk:
Change Can Be Good
Neil Clarke
July once again whisks me off to Readercon for an extended weekend with friends. I’m told that this is the last year the convention will be held in the Burlington Marriot and that makes me a little sad. I’ve been going there for over ten years and yes, I’ll still attend in the new location, but it won’t be quite the same. The location has become as much a part of the event for me, largely due to a couple of significant anniversaries.
The first is the birth of Clarkesworld. Our ninth anniversary will occur in October, but the magazine was born at Readercon. At the Friday night Meet the Pros(e) party, Sean Wallace and I got into a long discussion about online magazines spurred on by SciFiction’s recent closure. [SciFiction was the Sci Fi channel’s online magazine and its demise was a huge blow to the perceived credibility of the medium.] That night, we spent hours trying to figure out why so many online magazines had failed and what it would take to make one succeed. Sleep-deprived and a bit too overconfident, we came up with a business model we thought would work. By the end of the weekend, it was a done deal: I was launching a magazine. Nine years later, that wild little experiment is turning into what I hope will become my career. Not bad for something I stumbled into with no prior experience.
The second anniversary is one that you’d think I’d want to forget. Three years ago, as I was setting up my table in the Readercon Dealer’s room, I started feeling ill. Convinced I had food poisoning, I made my way back to the hotel room where I spent a few hours before accepting that it wasn’t what I thought. My wife called for an ambulance and when the EMTs arrived, they took one look at me and declared that I was having a heart attack. Fortunately, Lahey Clinic, one of the best hospitals in the area, is only a couple of blocks from the hotel. I spent the next week dealing with the fallout of having a “widow-maker” heart attack that I was lucky to have survived. Significant damage to my heart later led to the installation of my defibrillator and my new life as a cyborg.
After that, returning the next year was intimidating. As a distraction, I deliberately scheduled a Kickstarter campaign to end that weekend. That campaign funded Upgraded, my cyborg anthology, which in itself was an attempt to make some good of it all . . . but even now, three years later, I can’t say that what happened was a bad thing. I was very lucky to have survived and that’s not lost on me. Every day since is like bonus time. I’m still around to see my kids grow up, have my twentieth anniversary, see my sister get married and have her first child, win a Hugo and a World Fantasy Award, and find a better path. Sure, that it happened, the ongoing physical issues, and the slow pace at which I change careers can be frustrating, but I’m still here.
So, I’m returning to Burlington for one last time and I’m going to enjoy the time we have left. Change can be good and if anything, those two anniversaries should remind me of that.
I’ll end this month’s ramblings with one more change. In June, we reached another one of our Patreon goals and increased our fiction budget. Our philosophy has always been start small and grow. Nine years ago, our table of contents included two short stories (less than four thousand words each) and a cover. Over the years, we’ve added non-fiction, more stories, and increased the maximum story length to eight thousand words. Thanks to our subscribers and Patreon supporters, we can now increase the maximum story length to sixteen thousand words and publish more novelettes. There won’t be more than one in a single issue or even one in every issue, but this gives me the flexibility to go there when the story needs it. Many of my favorite stories over the years have been novelettes and I’m very pleased to be able to have this option open to us.
Next on the to-do list is pay raises for the staff. This one is long overdue and I hope to be celebrating that one soon. If you’d like to help, a long list of options can be found on our “support us” page.
Thanks and have a great July!
About the Author
Neil Clarke is the editor of Clarkesworld Magazine, owner of Wyrm Publishing and a three-time Hugo Award Nominee for Best Editor (short form). He currently lives in NJ with his wife and two children.
Cover Art:
Megafauna Europa
Julie Dillon
About the Artist
Julie Dillon is a science fiction and fantasy illustrator creating art for books and magazines, as well as for her own projects and publications. She has won two Chesley awards, a Hugo Award, and has been nominated for two World Fantasy Awards.
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