Podcasts about fireside fiction

This is a segment of episode 357 of Last Born In The Wilderness, “The Ambiguous Utopia: Fiction, History, & Hope In A Dying World w/ Margaret Killjoy.” Listen to the full episode: https://www.lastborninthewilderness.com/episodes/margaret-killjoy-2 Learn more about Margaret's work: https://linktr.ee/margaretkilljoy Fiction, as Margaret Killjoy points to in this interview, isn't good at providing blueprints, it's about finding the aspiration of what to look forward to; fiction is better at asking questions than providing answers. A good piece of creative storytelling can make the reader feel what it's like to live in the “ambiguous utopia” of LeGuin's The Dispossessed or Killjoy's A Country of Ghosts, and take us to a place that may be difficult for us to imagine existing otherwise, as much as we may long for it. Such a creative exercise can help us see what subtle and complex problems may arise in such a situation, hence the ambiguity of the “ambiguous utopia.” Margaret Killjoy is a transfeminine author born and raised in Maryland who was spent her adult life traveling with no fixed home. A 2015 graduate of Clarion West, Margaret's short fiction has been published by Tor.com, Strange Horizons, Vice's Terraform, and Fireside Fiction, amongst others. She is the author of We Won't Be Here Tomorrow, The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion, and The Barrow Will Send What it May. She is also the host of the podcast Live Like the World is Dying and Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff on iHeartRadio. WEBSITE: https://www.lastborninthewilderness.com PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/lastborninthewilderness DONATE: https://www.paypal.me/lastbornpodcast SUBSTACK: https://lastborninthewilderness.substack.com BOOK LIST: https://bookshop.org/shop/lastbornpodcast DROP ME A LINE: Call (208) 918-2837 or http://bit.ly/LBWfiledrop EVERYTHING ELSE: https://linktr.ee/patterns.of.behavior

Anarchist writer, musician, and podcaster Margaret Killjoy returns to the podcast to discuss the political act of writing fiction and imagining the “ambiguous utopia.” I ask Margaret to define what hope is or can be, and how her work communicating the stories of radical individuals and movements during pivotal moments throughout history on her podcast, Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff, can help us (re-)frame contemporary struggles for liberation, justice, and peace in the world today. Margaret Killjoy is a transfeminine author born and raised in Maryland who was spent her adult life traveling with no fixed home. A 2015 graduate of Clarion West, Margaret's short fiction has been published by Tor.com, Strange Horizons, Vice's Terraform, and Fireside Fiction, amongst others. She is the author of We Won't Be Here Tomorrow, The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion, and The Barrow Will Send What it May. She is also the host of the podcast Live Like the World is Dying and Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff on iHeartRadio. Episode Notes: - Learn more about Margaret's work: https://linktr.ee/margaretkilljoy - Subscribe to their newsletter: https://margaretkilljoy.substack.com - Purchase We Won't Be Here Tomorrow and A Country of Ghosts from Bookshop: https://bit.ly/47BuC0v / https://bit.ly/3TUAxL4 - Listen and subscribe to Live Like the World is Dying and Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff: https://www.liveliketheworldisdying.com / https://tr.ee/bYJg6co7wh - Music produced by Epik The Dawn: https://epikbeats.net WEBSITE: https://www.lastborninthewilderness.com PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/lastborninthewilderness DONATE: https://www.paypal.me/lastbornpodcast SUBSTACK: https://lastborninthewilderness.substack.com BOOK LIST: https://bookshop.org/shop/lastbornpodcast DROP ME A LINE: Call (208) 918-2837 or http://bit.ly/LBWfiledrop EVERYTHING ELSE: https://linktr.ee/patterns.of.behavior

Your Hosts: Mary Robinette, C.L. Polk, Fran Wilde, and Howard Tayler  This is the "talking about how to talk about" talk. We begin by reviewing the difference between the medical model and the social model of disability. Liner Notes: This TikTok provides a nice explanation of the medical and social models of disability. There's also this essay, "The Linguistics of Disability" over at Fireside Fiction. Credits: This episode was recorded by Daniel Thompson, and mastered by Alex Jackson.

Arcx is all about literary inspiration. In this six episode mini-series, we talk to six South Asian sci fi, fantasy and speculative fiction writers, tracing their ideas from conception to execution. We begin the series with author, storyteller and Twitter sensation, Shiv Ramdas. Shiv's work explores serious and often historical themes in nuanced and deft ways. His debut work, India's first mainstream Cyberpunk novel, Domechild was released in 2013. Shiv's short fiction has been featured in Slate, Strange Horizons, Fireside Fiction, Podcastle, and more. In 2020, he was nominated for a Hugo, a Nebula and an Ignyte Award.  In this episode, Anjali and Shiv discuss Shiv's influences, AI, magic, and his work-in-progress paranormal PI novel.  You can follow Shiv Ramdas on Twitter where he's @nameshiv  Arcx is a series of the Subverse, the podcast of Dark ‘n' Light, a digital space that chronicles the times we live in and reimagining futures with a focus on science, nature, social justice and culture. Follow us on social media @darknlightzine, or at darknlight.com for episode details and show notes.  

Adam, B.H. Pierce, Seán, and Zaivy, are joined by L.D. Lewis—a founder of the Hugo award-winning FIYAH Magazine, publisher at Fireside Fiction, and all kind of other projects. We talk about L's experience accepting the Hugo for FIYAH, then dive into a discussion on how you can use art and music as a part of your worldbuilding. Follow the hosts! Adam @adamcbassett Seán @caorabhan B.H. Pierce (Hexarch) @BHPierce203 Zaivy @ZaivyA L.D. Lewis @Ellethevillain

On this episode we are thrilled to have author Jo Kaplan aka Joanna Parypinski. Jo is the author of more than twenty short stories and several novels, co-chair of the LA chapter of the Horror Writers Association, and an English professor. She also writes under the name Joanna Parypinski. Her fiction has appeared in Fireside Fiction, Nightmare Magazine, Black Static, Vastarien, Nightscript, Haunted Nights (ed. Ellen Datlow & Lisa Morton), and Bram Stoker Award-nominated anthology Miscreations: Gods, Monstrosities & Other Horrors. She lives with her husband and cats in Los Angeles.We ask Jo the reason for the two names and chat about the general use of pseudonyms by women in the horror genre. This moves us on to the topic of the exciting rise of diverse prospectives in horror.We talk about the writing and enjoyment of Horror Poetry; how it creates an excellent venue to plumb the darkness in ways different and maybe more effective than a short story or novel. Particularly, the power of imagery and symbolism to create pieces that literally haunt the reader.We talk about her short story, In Dark Corner and Neglected Places which appears in Three Crows Year Two: Anthology of Weird Science Fiction and Fantasy, and the broader topic of folklore and diverse cultural viewpoints in horror.Jo tells us about the reoccurring theme that has prevalent in most of her writing and gives us some deep things to consider. In discussing her soon-to-be-released novel, When the Night Bells Ring, we explore the responsibility of the horror genre to address existential horrors such as climate change and deadly pandemics.Jo reads to us from her short story, Her. House. that can be found in Horror Library 7.Jo Kaplan can be found at: https://jo-kaplan.com/When the Night Bells Ring can be preordered here. https://jo-kaplan.com/2021/11/20/when-the-night-bells-ring/Her. House. can be found here: http://www.darkmoonbooks.com/Horror_Library_7.htmlBrenda is here: https://brendatolian.com/Brenda's new book Blood Mountain is available here: https://rawdogscreaming.com/cover-reveal-blood-mountain/Joy is here: https://www.joyyehle.com/Other Links:Thirteen Nocturnes by Oliver Sheppard  https://amzn.to/3GQn7XSUnicorn: the poetry of Angela Carter https://amzn.to/3zeCPdHExposed Nerves by Lucy A Snyder https://amzn.to/3MoujLP**When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission that will be used to continue to bring our audience great horror content. *Disclaimer: Reference to any specific product or entity does not constitute an endorsement or recommendation by the Podcasters. The views expressed by guests are their own and their appearance on the podcast does not imply an **When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission.*Disclaimer: Reference to any specific product or entity does not constitute an endorsement or recommendation by the Podcasters. The views expressed by guests are their own and their appearance on the podcast does not imply an endorsement of them or any entity they represent. Views and opinions expressed by guests do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the podcasters.

Twentyone Twentytwo Seven by dave ring. Narrated by J.S. Arquin. #fantasy #urbanfantasy #magicrealism   “Drink, sir?” he asked. “Sure,” I said. “I thought I had to go to the cafe car for some reason.” “We are happy to accommodate you,” he said, and then mumbled something else through a pointed smile. His teeth gleamed white against the stubbled growth of beard on his jaw. “Sorry, what was that?” I asked, plucking the effervescent glass from the tray. Tiny pinpricks of coolness splashed against my wrist. “We are happy to accommodate you,” he said again, then quieter: “Andtakethephonefromunderthetray.” I heard him this time, barely, but I don't think I reacted quickly enough. He strategically released his hand and a cell phone tumbled into my lap. “Thank you?” I said. He whisked past me, abruptly distant. “Twentyone twentytwo seven,” he said. A chill ran across my neck. That was my lock code. The phone was a basic iPhone. I pushed the button on the side and a photo of me and some dude I didn't recognize shone back at me from the screen.   dave ring is a queer writer of speculative fiction living in Washington, DC.  His short fiction has been featured in publications such Fireside Fiction, Podcastle, and A Punk Rock Future. He is also the publisher and managing editor of Neon Hemlock Press, and the co-editor of Baffling Magazine. Find him online at www.dave-ring.com or @slickhop on Twitter.  

Join host Adrian M. Gibson as he chats with award winning fantasy author Phenderson Djèlí Clark about his childhood, his writing journey, publishing, campy '80s nostalgia, creative inspiration and much more. This is Part One of a two-part interview. Meet Our Sponsor: This episode is brought to you by the amazing folks at THE BROKEN BINDING. Make sure to visit them at thebrokenbinding.co.uk for all of your fantasy and sci-fi needs. Use the discount code FANFI for 5% off your next order. About the Author: Phenderson Djèlí Clark is the award winning and Hugo, Nebula, Sturgeon, and World Fantasy nominated author of the novel A Master of Djinn, and the novellas Ring Shout, The Black God's Drums and The Haunting of Tram Car 015. His stories have appeared in online venues such as Tor.com, Daily Science Fiction, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, Apex, Lightspeed, Fireside Fiction, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and in print anthologies including, Griots, Hidden Youth and Clockwork Cairo. He is a founding member of FIYAH Literary Magazine and an infrequent reviewer at Strange Horizons. Find Phenderson on Instagram, Twitter, Amazon, Audible and his personal website https://pdjeliclark.com/. Find Us Online: FanFiAddict Blog Discord Twitter Instagram Music: Intro: "FanFiAddict Theme (Short Version)" by Astronoz Interlude 1 & 2: “Crescendo” by Astronoz Outro: “Cloudy Sunset” by Astronoz SFF Addicts is part of FanFiAddict, so check us out at https://fanfiaddict.com for the latest in book reviews, essays and all things sci-fi and fantasy, as well as the full episode archive for the podcast and the blog post accompanying this episode. Follow us on Instagram or Twitter @SFFAddictsPod. You can also email us directly at sffaddictspod@gmail.com with queries, comments or whatever comes to mind. Also, please subscribe, rate and review us on your platform of choice, and share us with your friends. It helps a lot, and we greatly appreciate it. Now, keep reading, keep imagining, and we'll see you next time on SFF Addicts.

Join host Adrian M. Gibson as he chats with award winning fantasy author Phenderson Djèlí Clark, where they geek out about history and take a deep dive into A Master of Djinn: how he built the world, incorporating magic and history, how the novel reflects our own world and much more. This is Part Two of a two-part interview. Meet Our Sponsor: This episode is brought to you by the amazing folks at THE BROKEN BINDING. Make sure to visit them at thebrokenbinding.co.uk for all of your fantasy and sci-fi needs. Use the discount code FANFI for 5% off your next order. About the Author: Phenderson Djèlí Clark is the award winning and Hugo, Nebula, Sturgeon, and World Fantasy nominated author of the novel A Master of Djinn, and the novellas Ring Shout, The Black God's Drums and The Haunting of Tram Car 015. His stories have appeared in online venues such as Tor.com, Daily Science Fiction, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, Apex, Lightspeed, Fireside Fiction, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and in print anthologies including, Griots, Hidden Youth and Clockwork Cairo. He is a founding member of FIYAH Literary Magazine and an infrequent reviewer at Strange Horizons. Find Phenderson on Instagram, Twitter, Amazon, Audible and his personal website https://pdjeliclark.com/. Find Us Online: FanFiAddict Blog Discord Twitter Instagram Music: Intro: "FanFiAddict Theme (Short Version)" by Astronoz Interlude 1 & 2: “Crescendo” by Astronoz Outro: “Cloudy Sunset” by Astronoz SFF Addicts is part of FanFiAddict, so check us out at https://fanfiaddict.com for the latest in book reviews, essays and all things sci-fi and fantasy, as well as the full episode archive for the podcast and the blog post accompanying this episode. Follow us on Instagram or Twitter @SFFAddictsPod. You can also email us directly at sffaddictspod@gmail.com with queries, comments or whatever comes to mind. Also, please subscribe, rate and review us on your platform of choice, and share us with your friends. It helps a lot, and we greatly appreciate it. Now, keep reading, keep imagining, and we'll see you next time on SFF Addicts.

Forty years ago in Egypt, the mystic and inventor Al-Jahiz pierced the veil between realms, sending magic into the world before vanishing into the unknown. Think steampunk meets history meets detective novel meets magic! Now in 1912 Cairo, humans brush elbows with djinn in crowded tramcars and airships sail the skies. In this new world the Egyptian Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities maintains an uneasy peace. When someone claiming to be Al-Jahiz “returned” murders a secret brotherhood dedicated to his legacy, however, that peace dissolves into disarray. The Ministry's youngest agent Fatma el-Sha'arawi has saved the world before. But this case is a special challenge. The imposter's dangerous magical abilities and revolutionary message threaten to tear apart the fabric of this new Egyptian society, and spill over onto the global stage. Can Agent Fatma unravel the mystery of Al-Jahiz in time to save the world—again? Read A Master of Djinn today! Born in New York and raised mostly in Houston, P. DJÈLÍ CLARK spent the formative years of his life in the homeland of his parents, Trinidad and Tobago. A Hugo and Sturgeon Award finalist, he is the author of The Black God's Drums and The Haunting of Tram Car 015. His short story “The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington” (Fireside Fiction) has earned him both a Nebula and Locus Award. Clark lives in Connecticut. The post A Master of Djinn – Ep 89 with P. Djèlí Clark appeared first on Read Learn Live Podcast.

We get to talk to Nebula-award-nominated author of fantasy and science fiction Jose Pablo Iriarte about his writing process, flash fiction and more. Let's learn more about him.José Pablo Iriarte is a Cuban-American writer and teacher who lives in Central Florida. José’s fiction can be found in magazines such as Lightspeed, Strange Horizons, Fireside Fiction, and others, and has been featured in best-of lists compiled by Tangent Online, Featured Futures, iO9, and Quick Sip Reviews, and on the SFWA Nebula Award Recommended Reading List. Jose’s novelette, “The Substance of My Lives, the Accidents of Our Births,” was a Nebula Award Finalist and was long-listed for the James Tiptree, Jr. Literary Award. Learn more at www.labyrinthrat.com, or follow José on Twitter @labyrinthrat. stories have been published in Lightspeed Magazine, Strange Horizons, Fireside Fiction, and many other venues. His novel-length fiction is represented by Cameron McClure of the Donald Maass Literary Agency.You can find, follow  and contact him on:joe@labyrinthrat.comFB: facebook.com/labyrinthratTwitter: @labyrinthratInstagram: @josepabloiriarteInterested in Podcasting?Follow the link https://www.buzzsprout.com/?referrer_id=815467  it let's Buzzsprout know we sent you, gets you a $20 Amazon gift card if you sign up for a paid plan, and helps support our show.Buzzsprout gets your show listed in every major podcast platform.You’ll get a great looking podcast website, audio players that you can drop into other websites, detailed analytics to see how people are listening, tools to promote your episodes, and more.Join over a hundred thousand podcasters already using Buzzsprout to get their message out to the world.Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/LegionofWritersPod )

Main Fiction: "Wolves" by Edward AshtonThis story first appeared in Analog Science Fiction and Fact (October 2019).Edward Ashton lives in a cabin in the woods (not that Cabin in the Woods) with his wife, a variable number of daughters, and an adorably mopey dog named Max. He is the author of the novels Three Days in April and The End of Ordinary, as well as of short stories which have appeared in venues ranging from the newsletter of an Italian sausage company to Escape Pod, Analog, and Fireside Fiction.You can find him online at edwardashton.com, or on Twitter @edashtonwriting.Narrated by Randal Schwartz.Randal Schwartz isRandal Schwartz, also known as merlyn, is an American author, system administrator and programming consultant. He is known for his expertise in the Perl programming language, his promotional role within the Perl community, as a co-host of FLOSS Weekly. Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/starshipsofa. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

This week Steve and Dana are joined by writer, poet, and co-host of the Thirst Aid Kit podcast, Nichole Perkins. First, the they weigh in on Happiest Season, the new holiday rom-com starring Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis. Then they chat with Culture Gabfest producer Cameron Drews about why he loves the HBO show How To with John Wilson. And finally, the hosts a talk about a big mistake made recently by the publisher Fireside Fiction, where a white voice-over artist put on a fake accent to read an audio essay written by a Black woman. The essay, written by Dr. Regina N. Bradley, is called Da Art of Speculatin’ . In Slate Plus, the Steve, Dana, and Nichole discuss their pop culture blindspots. Podcast production by Cameron Drews. Production assistance by Rachael Allen. Outro Music: "What Do You Want From Me" by OTE Slate Plus members get a bonus segment on the Culture Gabfest each episode, and access to exclusive shows like Dana Stevens’ classic movies podcast Flashback. Sign up now to listen and support our work. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week Steve and Dana are joined by writer, poet, and co-host of the Thirst Aid Kit podcast, Nichole Perkins. First, the they weigh in on Happiest Season, the new holiday rom-com starring Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis. Then they chat with Culture Gabfest producer Cameron Drews about why he loves the HBO show How To with John Wilson. And finally, the hosts a talk about a big mistake made recently by the publisher Fireside Fiction, where a white voice-over artist put on a fake accent to read an audio essay written by a Black woman. The essay, written by Dr. Regina N. Bradley, is called Da Art of Speculatin’ . In Slate Plus, the Steve, Dana, and Nichole discuss their pop culture blindspots. Podcast production by Cameron Drews. Production assistance by Rachael Allen. Outro Music: "What Do You Want From Me" by OTE Slate Plus members get a bonus segment on the Culture Gabfest each episode, and access to exclusive shows like Dana Stevens’ classic movies podcast Flashback. Sign up now to listen and support our work.

This week Steve and Dana are joined by writer, poet, and co-host of the Thirst Aid Kit podcast, Nichole Perkins. First, the they weigh in on Happiest Season, the new holiday rom-com starring Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis. Then they chat with Culture Gabfest producer Cameron Drews about why he loves the HBO show How To with John Wilson. And finally, the hosts a talk about a big mistake made recently by the publisher Fireside Fiction, where a white voice-over artist put on a fake accent to read an audio essay written by a Black woman. The essay, written by Dr. Regina N. Bradley, is called Da Art of Speculatin’ . In Slate Plus, the Steve, Dana, and Nichole discuss their pop culture blindspots. Podcast production by Cameron Drews. Production assistance by Rachael Allen. Outro Music: "What Do You Want From Me" by OTE Slate Plus members get a bonus segment on the Culture Gabfest each episode, and access to exclusive shows like Dana Stevens’ classic movies podcast Flashback. Sign up now to listen and support our work. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Main Fiction: "Love in the Time of Disconnect" by Hayley StoneThis story is original to StarShipSofa.Hayley Stone is an award-winning writer, editor, and poet from California. She has published short fiction in Apex Magazine and Fireside Fiction, and is the author of the weird western cult hit Make Me No Grave, most recently a finalist for the Laramie Book Awards. Find a complete list of her work at hayleystone.com or connect with her on Twitter @hayley_stone.Narrated by Will Stagl.Will Stagl lives in Tucson, Arizona with his wife Susan and daughter, Violet. His is a creative professional by day, the leader singer and guitarist for a post-punk band called the Liquid Centers by night, and is always up for a pint at the corner pub. Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/starshipsofa. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Hi everyone, and thank you for tuning in to another episode of the We Make Books Podcast - A podcast about writing, publishing, and everything in between! We are SO excited about this week's episode!  We were luck enough to sit down with the incredible LD Lewis of FIYAH Literary Magazine - a quarterly speculative fiction magazine that features stories by and about the Black people of the African Diaspora.  L is, to say the least, a simply astounding and amazingly talented person who sat down with us to discuss the ins and outs of cover art, design, and direction for a magazine.  To call something like this challenging is an understatement; unlike a novel, a magazine cover has to appeal to the reader while somehow representing the multiple stories and author featured for that issue.  L gave us a look into her process and took the time to explain what she is looking for in a cover artist and how she strives to find the best work to represent what FIYAH is publishing.  FIYAH's covers are commissioned rather than licensed so each one is directed by L and completed by a different artist.  L even had some advice and suggestions for any aspiring artists out there, so be sure to listen to the end! You can, (and should!) check out L online and follow her on the socials: https://ldlewiswrites.com/ Twitter: @Ellethevillain And be sure to check out FIYAH Magazine! https://www.fiyahlitmag.com/   And while we touch on the first annual FIYAHCON (happening this October!), the team has since announced The IGNYTE Awards and are asking for donations to help support the event and the trophies, so toss them some cash to lift underrepresented voices! We Make Books is hosted by Rekka Jay and Kaelyn Considine; Rekka is a published author and Kaelyn is an editor and together they are going to take you through what goes into getting a book out of your head, on to paper, in to the hands of a publisher, and finally on to book store shelves. We Make Books is a podcast for writers and publishers, by writers and publishers and we want to hear from our listeners! Hit us up on our social media, linked below, and send us your questions, comments, concerns, and the your favorite cover that FIYAH has released so far! We hope you enjoy We Make Books! Twitter: @WMBCast  |  @KindofKaelyn  |  @BittyBittyZap Instagram: @WMBCast  Patreon.com/WMBCast     Episode 41: These Covers Are On Fire!! Magazine Cover Art Direction with LD Lewis of FIYAH Literary Magaine!   [0:00]   K: Hi everyone! Welcome back to another episode of We Make Books, a show about writing, publishing, and everything in between. I’m Kaelyn Considine, I am the acquisitions editor for Parvus Press.   R: And I’m Rekka, I write science fiction and fantasy as R.J. Theodore.   K: And we had such a great time recording this episode. This was a real treat for us. We got to sit down with L. D. Lewis, who, I guess we can’t even call her, specifically, the art director of FIYAH Magazine because it is just one of many hats that she wears.   R: And she was part of the foundation of the magazine as well, so we can’t really just call her the art director.    K: But for this episode, we got to sit down and talk with L about art direction for FIYAH Magazine  and for magazines and publications in general, which is one of the many things that she handles at FIYAH.   R: Yes, yes. So Kaelyn had proposed that we do an Artwork August and I made her promise that we weren’t going to do nine episodes in August.   K: It wasn’t going to be a repeat of Submissions September.   R: And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that FIYAH Magazine covers are just…   K: Beautiful!   R: Jaw-droppers.   K: Absolutely beautiful.   R: Every time. I love them. So, to talk to the person responsible for these—and I did expect that she was going to say that some of them are just licensed pieces of art that, you know, they pick ‘em out and license them because, knowing that it’s a staff of volunteers, I wasn’t sure if the budget was there for commissioning artwork, but no! As you’ll hear, L commissions every piece that goes on a cover of FIYAH Magazine, which is excellent. But let me, I want to introduce FIYAH in general before we get into the episode.   So, if you are not familiar, the title, fiyah, is a colloquialism for fire and it’s an homage to the creators of the Black speculative fiction magazine, FIRE, devoted to younger Negro artists, which was issued in 1926.   K: That’s right, people, that long ago. Almost a hundred years.   R: Oh, god! I wanted to say I feel old, but I wasn’t alive back then. So I don’t have to feel that old. But that one was started by Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, and others. So, that history is there and it’s imbued into FIYAH Magazine. So what happened to bring FIYAH about was that in July of 2016, Fireside Fiction issued a hashtag, #BlackSpecFic. Out of 2,039 stories published in 2015, the report found that only 38 were written by Black authors. 38 out of 2,039. And more than half of all speculative fiction publications did not publish a single original story by a Black author over the span of the previous year.   So P. Djèlí Clark had already pitched the idea for a spec fic version of Fire Magazine and, in response to this report, Troy L. Wiggins, L. D. Lewis, and Justina Ireland, among others, got FIYAH up and running, basically, in response to this. This can’t stand—and it absolutely can’t.    “[FIYAH Magazine] seeks out Black excellence among stories of Black space captains, Black wizards, and Black gods. It is an exploration of what it means to be Black and extraordinary in new, exciting, and refreshing ways and it arrived right on time because the future of genre is now.” That last bit, of course, I’m quoting from their website on their About page.   This is an incredibly worthwhile magazine for everyone, and it should be supported by everyone in the genre and readers of science fiction, because too long now we’ve been reading science fiction by the same group of people, with the same demographic, who have dominated the genre.   Fireside kind of kicked it off with that report, and FIYAH has carried the torch, literally. So they are doing very well, as we talk with L. I don’t think we accented enough that they now have been nominated for awards and such because of the work that they’re doing. And we are very, very happy for them and want to support them.   K: Yeah, the first publication of FIYAH was 2017. They have grown massively in, really, I guess at this point less than three years, coming up on three years.   R: Yeah, it’s just about, actually as this comes out it will probably be really close to the anniversary.   K: Yeah, and to go from not existing to nominated for Hugos within that span of time is—   R: It’s just amazing.   K: —phenomenal and I think really speaks to the quality of work that is being curated by magazines like FIYAH.   R: And not just that, but the professionalism of the covers, as we get into with L in this episode.   K: Absolutely, yeah.   R: A long route to introduce them and to come back to the covers, but we wanted to give them the props for what they’re doing and support them and we suggest you go support them. It’s fiyahlitmag.com and, of course, that will be in the show notes.   K: So, anyway, we had a fantastic time talking with L. If you’re interested at all in cover art or cover design, or maybe you’re an artist, yourself, and thinking of sticking your toe into that pool, L’s got some really great suggestions. Some words of caution and advice, even.   R: If you’re thinking of putting together an anthology, there’s a lot of experience here that you can definitely use.   K: Absolutely. So take a listen, we’ll see you on the other side of the music.   [intro music plays]   K: Giant insects everywhere. She’s sending me pictures of stuff that she’s finding hanging out on her kitchen counter. [laughs]   L: Yeah, that’s accurate. I didn’t know you could have a pill bug infestation, but they’re somewhere under the concrete slab and they keep getting into the house and I don’t understand it.   R: And it’s not Animal Crossing where you can just catch them and sell them.   L: It’s not, no! A couple of times I’m like, “ew, spider! I’m going to catch you! Wait, no. What?”   R: Yep, I do that with dragonflies every day.   L: That’s what this game has done to me. But, no, no you have to die. This is the real world, you shouldn’t be here.   R: There’s no chameleon that will adore you forever.   K: Okay, so I don’t play Animal Crossing, but I still am playing Pokemon GO, so you know I understand the seeing something and just being like, “Ah, yes! For my—oh, wait no. Nevermind.”   R: So today we are sitting here with the lovely L. D. Lewis, who is a friend of mine and a fantastic author and also the art director of FIYAH literary magazine. L, I don’t wanna step on your toes. I wanna let you introduce yourself. So, why don’t you go into your introduction, as much as you wanna say about your own author career, because we also talk about writing on this podcast. And tell us a little bit about FIYAH magazine, too.   L: Okay, well, I am all of those things you just said. I am an art director for FIYAH literary magazine, we are Hugo nominated and I can’t wait to lose that award tonight.   [R makes a frowning noise]   L: We [laughs], we’ve been around since about 2016 which means that cover-wise we are on our… I wanna say sixteenth issue, coming out in October.    K: Okay.   L: Apart from that, I am an author, primarily of fantasy or science fantasy, some kind of merger.   R: That’s a mood.   L: I don’t know what I am.    R: Same!   L: I write the stuff. I write the stuff, I send it to people. I have them tell me what it is.   R: Exactly!   K, laughing: “Listen, here’s how we’re gonna market this!” “Oh, cool, that’s what that is. Awesome. Thank you for letting me know.”   L: Exactly. That’s my life. I sold a reprint recently, to Lightspeed, for a story, my short story “Moses” that appeared in Anathema: Spec From the Margins, I believe, April of last year. I didn’t know what genre that was when I wrote it.   K, laughing: I love it.   L: Much less that it would end up anywhere other than Anathema, so that’s kinda cool. mY writer career is kind of taking a back seat to all of my random mini-careers that popped up during the pandemic. So now I’m directing a convention, FIYAH Con. That’s going great. I’m also a researcher on the LeVar Burton Reads podcast. And I’m sticking my nose in a couple other editorial places as well, so.   K: So, a wearer of many hats.   L: Yes, and headphones.   [R laughs]   K, laughing: And headphones, yes! So do you wanna tell us a little bit about FIYAH magazine and your role there?   L: FIYAH, as I said, started in 2016. Our first publication year was 2017. We’ve won a World Fantasy Award. We’ve been nominated for two Hugos, I wanna say. And we’ve had some of our poetry features get Rhysling Awards. Our cover artist for our first year, Geneva Benton, now Geneva… Bowers… she got married. Yay.   K: Yay.   L: She won a Hugo for Best Fan Artist and she did all four of our first year’s covers. After her, we actually did one artist per issue. She just did all four for the first year because we were like, “We don’t know how this is gonna go, or if anybody’s gonna pay any attention to us. So we’ll just stick with the one artist, not make it too complicated.” And that actually went super well.   We will be a professional paying market as of, actually, our upcoming, our October issue. We’ll be able to pay SIFL qualifying rates.    K: Congratulations, that’s very exciting.   L: Yeah! We used to do our subscriber drive in October, but kind of State of the World things popped up and people kind of threw money at us, so.   [10:30]   R: I think you got boosted with a couple of people with a few extra followers and suddenly your subscribers were doubling, was it?   L: Yeah, we have over 1600 subscribers now.    K: That’s fantastic.   L: I think we were somewhere around the mid-300s pretty much since inception.    K: That’s great!   L: So now we’re pro-qualifying and we’ve got a convention for some reason.   R: And I will mention, for anyone who somehow hasn’t heard of FIYAH magazine, it’s comprised entirely of Black speculative fiction.    L: Yes. And by Black, we mean Black anywhere in the world. It’s African Diaspora but we are based in the States and so we publish writers who live in Africa or in Europe somewhere, or if you are an Afro-appended person you can be published. And we also—all of our cover artists are also Black.   K: Awesome.   R: Which is excellent. And so if you’re out there thinking, “How do I find more Black writers?”    L: This is…   R: L and her team are putting them together right in front of your face. Go subscribe! They’re also, I have to say, and this is why you’re here today, the covers are just so luscious and so amazing. I just want to wallpaper the house in them. The colors…   L, laughing: Luscious? That’s—   R: They are, though. They’re so—    L: No, that’s exactly the right—it’s definitely [laughs]   K: Um, yeah. They’re gorgeous, amazing covers. So, let’s jump right into that. How do you find these? How do you pick things like this? Is it the most fun in the world or is it maddening because you can only pick one per issue?   L: It’s maddening because we haven’t been able to pay artists as much as I would like to pay them.   K: Okay, all right.   L: So that’s probably my only issue. I find them primarily via social media. Like, every time there’s a Drawing While Black hashtag or something, that pretty much sucks up the rest of my day because I’m kind of trawling to see who I might wanna tag and solicit for artwork. Right now we actually have a submission window for our portfolios, over on the website fiyahlitmag.com/submissions. That’ll be going through August 20th. But I do pick some people from the slush. Olivia Stephens, I believe I got her from the slush. Wait—do art directors have slushes or am I just calling submissions piles that by default now?   K: I think you have… portfolio—what’s the correct term here? Portfolio slush piles? If you have a slush pile of portfolios, what do you call it?   R: As a graphic designer, I have never heard that my portfolio will go into a slush pile. So I think just, um, portfolios? I don’t…   K: Portfolio collection, yeah.   R: Submissions works. I don’t know.   L: Okay, yeah. So the submissions, yes, when they come in I look at those and we, in our first year, I believe our first two years, each one of our issues was themed. And so I kind of would base people’s art styles on how well they fit the specific theme. So it’s not like I would just pick four artists and randomly distribute assignments. It would just be, your style is best suited to something dealing with animals, in the case of Dominique Ramsay. So you’re going to do this animal or this nature-themed cover. Stuff like that.   K: I imagine you get a lot of portfolios sent to you. I can tell you, just at Parvus Press we get a lot of unsolicited emails for, “Hey! I’m trying to—I either do or am trying to get into cover design. Here’s my portfolio if you want to take a look!” And the way we handle that is: if it’s something where I’m like, “Maybe in the future we’ll have some interest or use for this,” we just flag it. Do you—are there certain things you’re looking for in a portfolio?    Do you solicit artists directly or do you tend to collect what’s out there and see what fits? Or is it a combination of both?   L: It’s a bit of a combination. When I do my social media searches for things, it’s things that just kind of fall into my lap, so to speak. But in some cases I will get a direct submission, in the case of our open calls. Which we don’t do often. It really just depends on whether or not I have, in my head, filled out who’s going to be doing covers for the following year. It’s just… it’s a hybrid method. I do get unsolicited things. When I do, they just get deleted unread. Like, I’m very much—if I spend hours cobbling together these submission guidelines or I’ve set up this form for you to use for submissions—   K, approvingly: Absolutely! Yep.   L: You have to use it! Because I’m not going to go out of my way to, you know—This is not gonna be a situation where you’re going to be like that diamond in the rough. Like, “Oh, well I didn’t follow the submission guidelines and still loved it anyway!” I don’t care. [laughs]   K: No, listen—   L: Yeah, I will delete.   K: I’m an acquisitions editor. I have the same issues. If we’re not open for submissions, don’t send me things. And if we are open for submissions, you need to submit through that portal. It’s one of those, you’re not more special than all of these other people.   L: Exactly.   K: But, along those lines, you’re dealing with a very interesting scenario, as opposed to doing art design and direction for a novel because you’re doing magazines. These come out frequently. They have multiple contributors, multiple pieces in each issue, and you probably have to get the art for this well before you know what’s actually going to be in the issue.   L: I do so many other things for the magazine that I kind of knock out my art director duties as quickly as I can, so I can focus on those things. So, I do the actual issue composition; the formatting of all the digital issues; and getting everything going in terms of the newsletter; and updating shot pages on the website; and all these other things. So this is pretty much done, pending my availability. So, in August or early September I’ll make story selections. In August, the team also decides on the next year’s themes or whether or not we’re going to have any.    K: Okay.   L: Next year we’re doing— Or, in 2021 rather, we’re doing two themed issues and two unthemed issues. So, now that I know what to expect in terms of the themed issues, I then go into the people that I’ve bookmarked in the back-channel and see who would be a good fit for those two. And then, for the unthemed issues, it’s really just, in terms of the direction I give them is based off of themes that I have in my head, essentially.   K, laughs: Okay.    [R laughs]   K: No, that’s great.   L: It’s things that wouldn’t fit if the stories in an unthemed issue are varied, the cover art is yet another story being told. Just in a different medium. So, it doesn’t have to fit, necessarily, in terms of the prose and the poetry, in order to be its own self-contained story. So when we have artists do those things, we then interview them—and we post those when we do cover drops—on their process and what story it is they’re trying to tell with their illustration. And it’s usually very interesting and it’s good to see that after artists end up on our covers, they end up getting agents. They end up getting other assignments—more ~prestigious~ than ours, probably—but I’m always a very happy art director mom when that happens.   K: That’s fantastic. So, along those lines, I’m gonna ask two questions here that maybe kind of overlap. One is, you’ve mentioned artists that you’ve bookmarked, so to speak, that you have in mind for certain themes, or artists that you just wanna use for non-themed issues: what makes you bookmark someone? And then, the second question is: how much variety do you try to get across your issue covers? Do you ever come up against, “Ugh, I really like these two artists, but I’ve gotta space them out because their styles are a little similar,” do you make a deliberate attempt to have a lot of variety between issues and the covers? Or whatever you come across that you like and think works, that’s what you’re going with?   R: Also, within sixteen issues, you have maybe developed a house style of some sort, that you could use as a guide.   [19:58] L: Yeah, I love particularly Black artists’ use of color. There’s, I want zero negative space where possible. Artists have to have an understanding of composition. I don’t want someone to have these grand images and then constantly have a lot of little details in the lower third of the cover, because that’s where we have our logo and the table of contents, things like that. So it’s… it’s not—let me think. I don’t think that we’ve ever had anyone’s styles who were too similar. I don’t try and compare them to each other. Moreso, the styles that are popular in other medias.    So if it’s clear from your portfolio that you’ve gotten an entirely anime style, it’s probably not going to work with us. Or if your style is modelled extensively after Steven Universe, that’s probably not going to be a great use, either. I think in the beginning, after Geneva, it was definitely—because we had four covers of that person’s style. At that point, it become, “Okay, well let’s make sure that whoever we get for this year, their work doesn’t piggyback too much on that.” Because we don’t want to get pigeonholed as having just this one type of art style. The sort of whimsical, femme vibe that she does. But I think, to that extent, we’ve diversified pretty well.    I think, probably, our most interesting cover, in terms of a departure from like a simple, character-based illustration was probably Sophia Zarders’. It would be Issue #12—Yeah, that’s her. It’s different, definitely.    K: You know, you had specifically mentioned things like, maybe, somebody whose art style is modeled maybe primarily off of Steven Universe or anime. That’s not gonna be a good fit for you. Do you have levels of technique that you’re looking for when choosing artists to work with? Or is it just you rule out by style?         L: Definitely, I think some level of technique has something to do with it. There needs to be an understanding of composition, something coherent about color theory. It has to be something that’s not drawn on lined paper in someone’s notebook somewhere. It really, there has to be some sort of refinement to it that differentiates it from a sketch.   K: I guess, yeah, refinement is the word I was looking for there, yeah.   L: Yeah, it’s—the bulk of what I receive is sort of on that sketch level, but I’m all about it because, I mean, shoot your shot wherever.   K: Mhm.   L: But in terms of actually making the cover, some level of—I have to get the sense that you take this craft of illustration, of drawing, whatever, I have to get the sense from it that you’ve taken it seriously enough to put some study into it. Rather than just practice.   K: Gotcha.   L: I don’t think there’s anything that automatically becomes a disqualifier, in terms of when I’m looking for those things. But, yeah, I just have to be able to tell you put some effort into it.   K: I’m assuming: have a portfolio, have spent a lot of time and work on this already, and not just like, “I did this one drawing, here you go.”    L: Yeah. There’s—I yell at people a lot about their websites.   [R smirks]   K, laughing: Ohoho! I understand why you and Rekka are friends now.   [all laugh]   L: I design them, first and foremost. And I’ve done that since forever, since like high school. We had a whole mentorship thing, that’s where I had to learn it. So when I can’t access your body of work or your contact information, the only things that you have sent me are pictures you’ve taken out of your doodle book, it’s—   K, amused: Do you really get that?   L: It’s gonna make me not wanna work with you.   K, laughing: Is that a thing that actually happens?   L: Oh, gosh…   [K laughs]   L, laughing: Yeah. And there’s definitely another conversation to be had about that. But it’s just, it’s kind of—there’s an expectation of, particularly, intra-community, that you’re automatically going to support someone because of shared racial or ethnic experiences. And so some people use that as a way to determine, “Okay, well I can just send any old thing and because they’re pro-Black and I am Black, that’s the marriage. That’s how this is gonna happen.” That’s not how this is gonna happen.    [K laughs]   L: So, I do send—when I send rejections, I try not to disparage anyone. I definitely want to continue to be encouraging and I wanna encourage the artists’ growth and if you come back and submit to me next year, I’d love to see, at least, that you’re still at it and still working on improving. But I think that we have reached a point where we can reasonably expect a certain amount of professionalism and refinement in the work. And I think you can really tell who actually has subscribed or read or knows anything about what we do, by what they send us.   K: Yeah.   L: So I can tell when you’re just an artist trying to make money, versus someone who wants to be part of FIYAH as an entity.    K: Yeah, and somebody who has a love and appreciation for the genre—   L: Exactly.   K: —I think, is very important in, especially something like—it sounds strange calling a magazine cover that’s gonna include multiple contributing authors and, probably some additional artists in there, as well, a very personal thing, but it is a very personal thing. I would imagine, especially on your end. You have a gargantuan responsibility of choosing a piece of artwork to not represent just one author being showcased in there, there’s multiple. And you’ve gotta find something that’s gonna serve everyone that’s being represented in that particular issue. So that’s something that I couldn’t do. [laughs]   When I work on a novel, I flag parts of the book where I’m like, “This is a good scene that could serve as a great cover. This is, you know, here are some thematic elements that we can really emphasize in that,” and even that can be very overwhelming when it’s just one story that you’re trying to build a good picture representation of. Obviously, it’s a little bit different per magazine, what you’re putting on the cover, what you’re trying to show, but it’s still incredibly difficult, I would imagine.   R: And you don’t just have to represent the stories, but since FIYAH is the name on the cover,  you’re also representing FIYAH magazine at the same time and that does seem like a lot to try and balance in your mind as you go through it.   Well, at the same time, pictures are really cool-looking so sometimes you can just go, “Oh that’s a cool picture. That inspires me to want something like this.”   [L and K laugh]   R: In a person’s portfolio.   K: Yeah, and so then that’s what I was gonna ask is how do you find that balance between like, “Wow I really like this artist and I think they’re doing cool things,” and then because you’re commissioning these, so you’re giving them direction, you’re having to tell them, “I’m looking for something like this.” You know, we talked about this a little bit at the beginning of the episode, but to the listener, just to be clear, L is finding artists and then getting them to create something new for the issue of the magazine. That’s what it means—just for clarity’s sake—that’s what it means when we say that she’s commissioning these covers.   So it’s not finding a picture and going, “That’s great, I’m gonna license it and then we’re gonna put it on the cover of that issue.” You’re having to give them direction. So, do you have an approach to that? Do you let them give you ideas, or do you go to them with the ideas? Or a combination of the two?   L: I usually go to them with the ideas. I think, probably, the most successful example would be our Issue #3 cover, the Sundown Towns issues, which has been, in terms of prints and things, it’s been wildly, by far our bestseller. It’s the cover where there’s a girl and she’s got these mirrored shades on and in the mirrored shades there’s just a horizon of things she’s going to have to beat down with this bat with the nails in it that’s like strung from her back.   R: I do love that cover.   K: I’ll just—sorry to interrupt real quick. All of the previous covers are on FIYAH’s website. So if you’re listening to this going, “Oh, that sounds really cool!” You can go see them on there.   L: Exactly.   R: Yep. And buy the back-issues.   K: Yes.   L: Buy everything! I mean, there’s a shop with merch in it and the covers there are actually prints.   R: So I could wallpaper my house if it weren’t stone.   L: Yeah, you can check ‘em all out, support ‘em there. And actually purchases of prints, be they framed or not, a portion of those sales actually do go back to the artist.   R: Excellent.   L: So we’re not just pocketing all of that. For the issue #3 cover, the theme was Sundown Towns and so I wanted to, I actually think I directed that one fairly closely. I generally try to say, “Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking,” even if it’s not a themed issue. “Here’s what I’m thinking thematically for the cover, open to your interpretation on that.” With issue #3, I was a bit more hands on and I was like, “Okay, so I want to get this impression. It’s a sundown situation, I want this character, we’ll do a torso proportion, and I want to be able to see something on this horizon at sundown that’s going to—I want danger, I want menace, but I want this character to be marginally unbothered by it.” And you can see that with the toothpick basically lolling in her mouth. Like, she’s ready.   K: She straight does not give a fuck.    L: Yeah, and so however it is I worded that, Geneva just took it and did this miraculous thing and I was like, “This is amazing! I’m an amazing art director!”   [all laugh]    L: So I think that was the one I was probably the most hands-on with and I think was realized in a really cool way. I had direction in a lot of subsequent covers, but particularly where there’s a theme, I’m like, “Here’s our theme, I’m thinking… this or this or this or this, also open to your interpretation, so if you have any pictures or whatever just let me know, we can hash it out.” It ends up working pretty well most of the time. I think the Chains issue—I selected Sophia because in her portfolio there was a lot of political work. A lot of protest type designs as well. So I definitely wanted to get her take on the Chains issue. And that came out amazingly.   And there is—I don’t think there intended there to be a political message there, but if there was she did a great job illustrating it.   R: You mentioned when it goes really, really well it seems to just—they’re reading your mind, an image you didn’t even know was there, and then it’s just fantastic. So, when you have to get a little bit more in up to your wrists on the art direction and send them back, maybe, for additional rounds of thumbnails or something. Has that happened, and how do you manage not just the product that you’re going to get at the end, but the communication and happiness of both parties?   L: So when I start the commissions, it’s a pretty wide window for them to get the work done. And then I’ll check in periodically, or they’ll send me progress updates, asking about colors or composition or, usually, to get an idea of how it’s going to be set up on the cover with the title and everything, just to make sure that there’s nothing going to be lost in the details that’ll only be available on the larger prints. Because we don’t put the table of contents or anything on those.   K: Gotcha.   L: But yeah, we check in periodically. By periodically, it could be a month, it could be two months. If I’m commissioning you August 202 and you’re doing the October 2021 issue. I mean, I commission everybody at the same time.    K: Okay.   L: Once I have you finalized, just let me know when you want to get to work and I’ll send your deposit, is how that works. So, over the course of time, if I’ve needed to send anything back—I think it’s happened maybe one or two times. There was an issue with—Oh, yeah, well Sophia. She was our first cover to incorporate a border, and so later on when I ended up remastering the issues—’cause that did happen. Because I can’t just leave stuff alone—we ended up resizing it and so the proportions for that couldn’t be altered without losing the border, so we had some issues there. A little bit that kinda needed to be addressed. But that was mostly on my end, not really her fault.   Couple of times there were some color issues that got sent back. And it’s really just a matter of, “You’ve sent me this thumbnail, you’ve asked for feedback, here’s the feedback.” There’s nothing that really needs to be, you know, nothing for anyone to get emotional about. So there haven’t been any catastrophes, thus far. Mostly any drops in communication that have ended up in a cover perhaps being rushed, you can’t tell which cover it was, so it worked out.   K: Excellent.   L: But, yeah. It’s all pretty straightforward.   R: That’s very good.   K: Well, I’m jealous because it’s not always straightforward with the people I’ve worked with and dealt with. You know, it’s very hard to take an image out of your head, or a sentiment you’re trying to communicate, like this intangible idea, and say, “Now put it on a piece of paper for me.”   L: I think that’s where my work as a writer actually helps because I do that myself. Like there’s an image in my head and I have to put it into words, so I think if I wasn’t able to do it in the beginning, becoming an art director has kind of helped me do the reverse. I have an image in my head that I have to put into words enough for you to replicate the image in my head.   K: Along those lines, do you have any hard requirements that, when you’re working with an artist and you’re commissioning work from them, you—It doesn’t need to be a specific thing, but your art must display: this. I imagine use of color is very important. Art-related things. But do you have any requirements of things that you want to appear in all of your covers, be they themes or specific elements?   L: It’s largely, here’s what I’m thinking in my head, open to your interpretation on it. I think that any requirements, subconscious or otherwise, that I have factor into the selection process, but once they’ve been selected it’s at that point I’m like, “Okay, well because I picked you, because I trust you to have some type of vision for this that you’ll be able to execute.”   K: Okay.   L: There was a situation where I had to sidestep someone’s submission because the issue was me. I was not confident enough in my communication abilities to get what I had in my head out of them.   K: Okay.   L: So to speak. So it, sometimes a rejection is not your work isn’t good enough, we can’t use you right now. It’s that I’m not sure how to get the best work out of you, and that’s on me.   K: I assume you have multiple conversations with the artists before commissioning them, before giving them a deposit. Do you kind of talk to them about, “Hey, I’m looking for this specific thing,” or do you start by just talking to get a feel for them and see if they’re somebody that you want to work with?   L: The process is different in solicits and submissions. So, in terms of submissions, I ask for a bio and that kind of acts as your cover letter. If you’re rude—   [R laughs knowingly]   L: —when I ask you for your cover letter, I’m not gonna work with you. If you send in a portfolio which includes demands and details about how you will not accept direction or direction will be an additional fee, then I’m not going to work with you.   K: Oh my goodness! That happens??   L: Really, in the submission process, that’s my first glimpse into your personality. So I don’t have to give you the 12th degree later on when actually trying to get work from you. I’m looking at all of your submission materials. If you’ve got a great portfolio, but a shit attitude—I don’t know if I can cuss here, sorry—   R: Yes, absolutely. Have at it.   L: We’re not going to work together and good luck having anyone else work with you because I’m so reasonable.    K: I always say, you know, in acquisitions, and I’ve said this multiple times on this podcast, your first part of the “interviews” portion of the submissions process is: can you follow the submissions guideline?   L: Exactly. If you can’t follow instructions, if you’ve got a chip on your shoulder, attitude problem, it’s not gonna work. I’m sorry.   K: It is something that consistently amazes me, the attitude problems I come across. Where it’s like, “Don’t you understand this is a relationship? I’m hiring you to work with me. Why, all you’re showing me is why I shouldn’t.”   L: Exactly. So, I get that being a creative is a work of ego. In any medium, it’s a work of ego. So you’re going to be protective of your work and you’re going to be confident if it’s something you intend to sell. You cannot be a dick. It’s a universal rule, and one that people don’t seem to follow.   K: I will even take that a step farther and say that I understand the protectiveness of your work and your time. I understand wanting to make sure you’re not gonna get jerked around, but there’s ways to do that and be polite, if not at least professional.   L: Exactly.   K: I will take professional, even. [laughs] I can work with that. Okay, so that’s actually a good segue into one of the last questions I had here. Dos and Don’ts. Maybe any advice you have for people who are interested in trying to get into design and cover art and, you know, things you like, things you don’t like?   L: UPDATE. YOUR. FREAKING. WEBSITE.   [all laugh]   L: And by update—   K: I think that’s gonna be the title of this episode. We’re just gonna get Rekka a framed picture that says that, yeah.   L, speaking plainly: By update, I mean… to have portfolio samples of your most recent work because it should be your most improved, your most developed work! Available and easily accessible on your website. Social media. Stick it in your bio. If you don’t have a website, which is fine, some people don’t. Our submission form allows you to alternatively just submit work samples, if you don’t have a website I can get to. Fine.   When you’re sending your work samples, make sure that the work samples are a good fit for the gig you are applying for. If I say we are a speculative fiction magazine, do you know what speculative fiction is? If you don’t, look it up. I’ll give you a hint: it’s on our website. The same website you’re using to view our submission guidelines. Which you should also be reading thoroughly. And implementing in your submission.   And I say this. In the slowest, clearest way I know how. Because for some reason, when I get off this recording, I’m going to go into my inbox and there’s going to be some someone who has sent me… something they drew on their desk in high school and think it’s going to be cool to submit to the magazine. It’s not. It’s a photo of your dog. It’s a gorgeous rendering. In Sharpie…   [R and K giggle]   L:  It’s not a good fit for a magazine.     K, laughing: Oh my God, my heart is singing right now! This is… I have not given exactly that talk, but you could paraphrase large chunks of it.   R: The volume of salt in the talk is about equal.   L: Yes, I’m very—I don’t know how much clearer I can be. When people are discussing speculative fiction, know that it’s sci-fi, fantasy, horror, assorted subgenres. And if you’re applying to be on a cover of a publication of speculative fiction, make sure that you know that. And that the works that you submit reflect that you know the venue you’re… proposing to, essentially.    K, contrarily: Maybe that dog was a magical dog.   L: But it wasn’t because it was just furry. It was just a dog. That’s it. If he was in a mech suit, there you go. Speculative fiction all the way. Give me the dog in the mech, it’s fine.   K: With a good cybernetic eyepatch.   L: Yes! Yup.    K: Maybe like some satellites coming out of his ears. Something.   L: Does he have wings? Give me dogs with mech suits and wings. It’s fine. I can work with that! I cannot work with… the photorealistic rendition of your grandmother. It’s not going to work for a speculative fiction magazine. So [clears throat] apart from that, really, it’s more than just a scattershot of finding places that will give you money to produce artwork.   It’s—you have to have an actual interest in the venue because for three to four months at a time, you are going to be the face of it. As the, you know, as the cover artist that’s going to be the cover. The first cover people see when they approach us on social media or on our website or anything. You are the newest thing, you should want to know what it is that you’re representing.   K: That’s another good question. I mean, you guys have a really, I don’t think it’s going too far to say, important mission statement. You have something that is really representative and significant, still, in the community. If you have an artist come to you and they just do not have a clue about, you know, any of this. The realm you’re working in and trying to promote, is that a dealbreaker for you, or…?   L: Yes.   K: Okay.   L: Absolutely. Yeah. I am a wearer of many hats. I am a busy person. I don’t have time to entertain or educate people on information that’s readily available if they would have elected to actually educate themselves. I am very friendly in customer service emails. I am not friendly in emails that show you did not read the required material.   R: Mhm.   K, laughing: Good!   L: You know, mostly when I send rejections, it’s: Thank you so much for submitting! Here’s where—Like, I’m gonna keep you in the catalogue, I encourage you to keep writing to us, submit to us next year. Whatever. For rejections to people who clearly had no idea what they were sending me, it’s like: okay, this submission failed to meet the guidelines. Here’s where. Thanks. And that’s that.   R: Yeah.   L: I try to—I think our submission guidelines have been tweaked multiple times a year since inception because we keep trying to catch those people who are, willfully, just ignoring things. And I’ve come to realize that there’s no way to do that. People are just gonna do what they do.   K: Yes, it’s true. Yeah.   R: It’s a shame that you create these guidelines as a filter to keep these people out, but it’s still so manual. You still have to say you have to abide by them, and then I have to review it and I have to go, “Oh, come on. Really.”      L: Right!   K: Well, I mean, you also have people that just look at it and go, “Meh, I’m good enough. They won’t care.”   L: Yeah, and I promise you, you’re not.    [47:58]      [all laugh]   L, not sorry: I’m sorry.   K: Trust me, I run up against the same thing where it’s like, I have actually gotten unsolicited manuscripts sent to me that I’m kinda like, “Oh, this is… I’m not doing backflips over it, but this isn’t bad. I could certainly be interested in this, but we don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts. Sorry.”   L: Yeah, and I don’t even get that far. You send me unsolicited stuff and I’m just… okay, cool. Delete. And that’s that. Noooo you don’t get a response email because you don’t follow directions, so.   K: Yeah, I’m guilty of sometimes opening those things out of curiosity. I’m very—   [L giggles]   K: Well, especially because—granted, I’m dealing with novels, so a lot of times people just copy and paste their query letter into the email—Yeah, I know. Sometimes I can’t help but catch a few words where I’m sort of like, “Alright, I gotta open this and see, is this actually interesting or is this a dumpster fire on a train wreck?” And, I’ll give you a guess which one it frequently is.   L: Yeah. It’s never—It would be different if the people who sent in unsolicited works were qualified. But it’s always the ones who need further development, who also can’t seem to follow instructions. So I wonder if there’s a correlation.   K: I’m gonna go ahead and guess yes, but…   L: Yeah.   [all laugh]   K: But, yeah, okay. So I would imagine, especially just in the part of speculative fiction that you’re working in and what you’re trying to promote and make more common, more accessible to everyone. Having some, if not involvement knowledge of, at least some awareness of the existence of this. Yeah, that’s incredibly important. And I would imagine it would be very difficult to work with somebody who didn’t, at that point.   L: Yeah. We’re—FIYAH is very much mission-based. And so we’re not going to work with anybody, if it’s a writer, if it’s a sponsor, if it’s a poet, if it’s an artist, we’re not gonna work with anyone who doesn’t serve that mission—    K: Yeah.   L: —in the best possible way. So if it’s, you know, I like to see that representing us well is a priority for you when you submit work to us. So if that’s not the case, then you can find some other magazine to be on the cover of.   R: Yeah, that’s great.   K: Absolutely. So, that’s all the questions I had. Rekka, anything?   R: UM. I have the technical questions, but we did go a little long on the first half, so I’m not gonna take up too much of L’s time because, as she mentioned, she’s wearing many hats. It’s already a busy day and it’s supposed to be a Friday, but we don’t know what those mean anymore. But—   K: But the Hugos are tonight, so at least we have that to know what calendar day it is, if not day of the week.   L: I actually still don’t know what calendar day it is because it’s in New Zealand time and…   K: Oh god, you’re right!   R: Yeah, and you can’t miss the ceremony, that’s for sure.   L: I probably can.   K: Wha—?   L: I think we know who’s gonna win. I think we do. I’m not gonna say any names, but I’m pretty sure.   R: Well, I know who I voted for at the top of my ballot, so. I’m still crossing my fingers for you guys. But, my technical questions. Just a couple quick ones. So, you are commissioning covers for what is, primarily, so far, digital only.   L: Correct.   R: So that lets you do a couple of neat things, but I wonder, does FIYAH have any tickle in the back of their mind, collectively, about doing print issues or anthology Year’s Best Of kind of things in the future? And what does that mean for you, your planning?   L: So, we have—Our initial thought, I think, after Year 2, was to put together an omnibus of the years’ issues and sell those as kind of a box set, if you will. Didn’t pan out. I think there was a contract snafu where we had to like stop that. And then starting in Year 3, we added the clause to the contract that would allow us to get anthology rights and things. We would love—I would, personally, love to do a print issue. Like, annual print things. But I’d want to add more stuff to it. Which probably isn’t a great use of the editorial team’s time. So we’ve kind of stuck a pin in that.   It’s also super expensive and we just got all of this money. And so our priority is to make sure that we’re paying our contributors well. So if we can keep that up and then, maybe some money coming in from the convention can go towards, you know, funding print aspirations. That would be nice, too. But we hope to get there one day. I don’t know what it would change, apart from the timeline. In terms of when we request work, how long we give people to create it, when it’s due on a print schedule and stuff.   I did editorial work for Fireside Fiction and, so, Pablo’s been really great in like a mentorship capacity, in terms of learning the ropes of print stuff.   K: And that’s Pablo Defendini?   L: Yes. So, I’ve just made sure that I’ve absorbed whatever I could from my experience over there, in hope of taking it over to FIYAH and see what we can do with that. I’m hoping to have something commemorative printed by this con next year.   K: Okay.   L: That’s kind of in a super nebulous space right now, along with everything else in the world. So, that’s it. So, if things in the world happen, maybe this will happen.   R: Yeah.   L: We will, hopefully, be able to pull that off. But I think we’re looking at it as kind of a one-off thing, sort of experimental, to see if it’s going to be a sustainable model going forward. It would be cool if someone were to reach out—someone from a publishing house would reach out and want to back yearly anthologies. I think we’d be super into that. But we just don’t have the money for it right now.   R: Yeah.    K: Anthologies are very expensive. They’re worth it, but they are very expensive and they are multiple times more time-consuming than a single book.   L: Yeah.   K: It’s um. As Rekka mentioned, we did ITGO, the science fiction political anthology, If This Goes On. It was fun, but it was… I… it took a couple years off my life, to be sure.   [all laugh]   L: That’s my understanding.   K: Yeah.   L: I have the technical skills, I’ve been working with the Adobe suite of products for… wow, I’m old. Far too long. So, you know, when we’re ready for print. I’m ready, but we just gotta get there funding-wise.   R: The saturation of color in your covers, I was worried if you ever did a print issue that you were going to lose some of it going to the CMYK, but that’s a me-thing. That’s not even.   L: I mean, that’s probably something to consider. But, I mean, that’s probably something we’d work through with the printer. Everything that gets turned in to us, I think the only traditional media—Odera is doing the Joy issue and that one’s being painted—   K: Oh! Okay.   L: So, I mean, we’d have some media considerations to work through. But I think a lot of that would depend on what the capabilities were of our printer and we’d figure it out. I always figure it out. We’ll figure it out.   R: Oh! And another thing I forgot to mention was that because you’re a digital magazine, you got to put that one cover on your website, and I noticed it was animated.   L: Yeeeeeah. B)   R: So that is extra fun.   L: Yeah, I wanna do another animated—I wanna do at least one animated. I mean, those are more expensive, obviously, because it’s an additional skill set, but yeah. I wanna do more of those. I figure we’re a digital venue, so we can have some fun with it. Same thing with virtual conventions. You can do some different fun things with it—   K: Yeah, absolutely.   L: —just because it’s digital. It doesn’t have to be something that’s on a lower tier than a physical book or a physical event.   R: So we’re referring to Issue #13 which, if you view at their website, you see a great illustration to begin with, then you get a pause and then a nice little message that just warms the heart.   L, giggling: And other things!   R: Yeah. Did you work with the artist directly on the animation, was that part of the commissioned artist, or did you then take it to somebody who animated it after? Or did you do it yourself?   L: No, that was part of the deal with the artist. Steffi has an amazing portfolio and so I went through it and there were animation samples in there and I was like, “Ohh! Ooh! Let’s do that!”   [all laugh]   L: So I went back and I was like, “Heyyyy! So I wanna bring you on board. I wanna have you do this cover. It’s unthemed, but we’re thinking about adding some animated components to it. How much would you charge for that?” And that’s pretty much how that happened.   That was really fun, and I wanna do another one. I’m hoping to find some more animation in portfolios in the Ye Olde Art slush.   R: So if you are an artist listening to this episode, you’ve just been giving a leg-up in terms of what L wants to see.   K: Uh-huh, some inside info there.   L: Yeah, I wanna do at least one animated cover. It doesn’t have to be one of the themed ones. But I wanna kind of do at least one of those a year.   K: So, L, along those lines, just to wrap up here. You currently,  by the time this episode comes out, you’ll be open for submission for nine days more? It’s coming out August 11th and you’re open till the 20th you said, correct?   L: Correct, yes.   K: And where can people find you guys to submit?    L: Fiyahlitmag.com—F-I-Y-A-H-l-i-t-m-a-g dot com. There is a submissions link on the homepage. You can go to fiyahlitmag.com/submissions and find all the additional information there. It does involve an AirTable form. So if you are unable to access it for accessibility reasons, you can just shoot me an email at art@fiyahlitmag.com and I will send you an alternative means of submission.   K: And we’ll link that link in the show notes and if you haven’t already come away with this notion—well, that’s probably a different issue, you haven’t been paying attention—Please read the submissions guidelines!    [all laugh]   L: Please! Because I will totally subtweet you if you don’t. Like… come on.   K: It’s just gonna be… you’re just gonna get a link to this episode of the podcast. And just…   L: Yeah. In fact, that’s what I do. If you send me work without reading the submission guidelines, I am going to send you an email that’s just the submission guidelines link. That’s it.   R: That’s more than you deserve.   L: Yeah. And it’s passive-aggressive, but it makes me feel good. So that’s what we’re doing.   K: Gotta get those wins where you can take them. Well, L, thanks so much, really, for taking the time to talk to us on such a busy and important day for you. We really, really appreciate it. IS there anything you’d like to leave us with before we sign off here? R: Or where can people find you, et cetera.   L: My website, ldlewiswrites.com has all of my published works thus far. There may or may not be a novel included in it at some point. Who knows? I have a story coming out in the Glitter and Ashes anthology coming out whenever that comes out. I’m sure you guys can help find that.   R: I think it’s September, at this point, was Dave’s last estimate.   L: Okay. Well that’s cool. That’ll be the only thing I have coming out this year ‘cause… I have started too many non-writing things and I have to cut that out. FIYAH Con is theconvention.fiyahlitmag.com. That event is online and taking place October 17th and 18th. It’s gonna be super fun. I’m very excited about some things we have coming up to announce in the next couple of weeks. And it is a virtual convention centering Black and Indigenous people of color and their contributions to speculative fiction, so.   K: Great! Very cool.   L: People are like, “Oh! FIYAH’s all Black people, but what about… why is it everybody else in the convention?” Because I said so. So there.   [K laughs]   L: Black Lives Matter. Give the land back. And that’s it from me.   R: Thank you so much for joining us! And I’m so glad that I know you because I love these covers and, like, that was my first thought when Kaelyn said she wanted to do book covers as a topic for August. I was like, “I KNOW the book covers! That I wanna talk about!” So I’m so glad you were available and thank you so much for your time and keep going awesome work because you are doing excellent, excellent awesome work.   L: Well, thank you so much for having me. I look forward to seeing you both on the internet somewhere.   R: Same.   K: Thanks very much L, take care.   L: Thanks! Bye.   [outro music plays]   R: Hey, friends. I hope you enjoyed this episode and interview today with L. D. Lewis and usually this is the part where I’d say hit us up on Patreon.com/wmbcast. Wait, I just did it. Well, you know what I mean.   Normally, I would say that. And that’s great. You can do all that if you want, but I’d really like if you, today, would go and get a subscription for a year or more to fiyahlitmag.com. The content is excellent, the people who put it together are excellent, and it’s one thing to say that everyone’s welcome at the table of SFF, but it’s another thing to actually support the people who need their voices lifted. So, please, go support fiyahlitmag.com, the link is in the show notes. And, you know, read some stories by some marginalized people. Specifically, in this case, Black writers. And check out these fantastic covers by Black artists. And, you know, really appreciate what FIYAH is doing in a time when so few are. So, again, thank you for listening today and go check out fiyahlitmag.com and support this fantastic magazine and keep it going in the future.   Alright and we’ll talk to you in two weeks. Take care, everyone.        

The Empress's Knife by dave ring. Narrated by J.S. Arquin. Featuring an afterword recorded by dave ring.   Behold, the ziggurat.  We stood atop Arida Peak, at the western edge of the Empire's hold.  “Let me see it,” I said.  Scalid, my handler, stepped away from the spyglass.  I removed my hood and pressed my eye socket against the cool metal.  Vormundine was unfurling its massive wings, four or five times the size of the rest of its body.  Its musculature was pale grey, almost white from this far away, but pinkening until the wingtips shone a nearly translucent ruby.  “Are you ready?”  the sergeant asked, impatient.  She likely wished to be back at the border, where the Empress's army held back the barbarian horde.   dave ring is the chair of the OutWrite LGBTQ Book Festival in Washington, DC. He has stories featured or forthcoming in a number of publications, including Fireside Fiction, GlitterShip, and A Punk Rock Future. He is the publisher and managing editor of Neon Hemlock Press, as well as the editor of Broken Metropolis: Queer Tales of a City That Never Was from Mason Jar Press. More info at www.dave-ring.com. Follow him on Twitter at @slickhop.   Please help support The Overcast. Become a Patron Today! Subscribe on iTunes or Stitcher so you never miss an episode. While you're there, don't forget to leave a review!   J.S. Arquin's Crimson Dust Cycle trilogy is complete! Go to www.arquinworlds.com to download your free prequel story. Are you an author who loves J.S. Arquin's narrations? Ask him to narrate your audiobook at www.arquinaudiobooks.com   

Pandemic special number one! I'm cooped up in my cabin so I'm going to release a bunch of my own stories, read by myself. This one first appeared in Fireside Fiction in 2016. It's a response to nihilism and misanthropy, but mostly it's about how quickly I start talking to myself when I'm alone.

Sharifah and Jenn discuss Christopher Tolkien’s legacy, adaptation updates for The Watch and Snowpiercer, speculative poetry, and more. This episode is sponsored by Book Riot’s Read Harder 2020 Challenge, Saga Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, and LMBPN Publishing. Subscribe to the podcast via RSS here, Apple Podcasts here, Spotify here. The show can also be found on Stitcher here. To get even more SF/F news and recs, sign up for our Swords and Spaceships newsletter! NEWS Christopher Tolkien dies at age 95 Concerns about The Watch adaptation, Parts 1 and 2 Snowpiercer TV show gets air date ‘Binti’ Adaptation From Michael Ellenberg in the Works at Hulu Ghost Bride trailer BOOKS Reference: Speculative Poetry post “3-D Printed Brother” by Millie Ho, Strange Horizons “Ọ́jí Íjè [KOLA JOURNEY]“ by Uche Ogbuji, FIYAH Issue #11 “The Dissolution of Icarus” by Michelle Muenzler, Liminality Poetry Issue #18 “Unbraided, Clean” by Terese Mason Pierre, FIYAH Issue #10 Life On Mars by Tracy K. Smith (“My God, It’s Full of Stars”) “Turning the Leaves” by Amal El-Mohtar, Apex Magazine Goblin Fruit — Archives (edited by Amal El-Mohtar) “Skyscraper” by Annika Barranti Klein, Fireside Fiction

Alex Iantaffi interviews De Ana Jones and the conversation is wide-ranging: from why we need diverse games, what stories we choose to tell and how conventions can be more truly inclusive. De Ana Jones is a blogger and podcaster from Southern California who in elementary school learned that the stories in her head were easier to keep track of on paper. She previously liked to talk about nerdy things on the Nerdgasm Noire podcast (and hopes to start again soon) and currently enjoys playing Indie RPGs with The Reclaimers group on the I Need Diverse Games twitch channel. She's had fiction previously published in Hidden Youth by Crossed Genres and an essay published by Fireside Fiction. She's also working on a web comic (https://www.patreon.com/hexschoolforgirls) and is a self-proclaimed Professional Smartass on twitter as @NaniCoolJ.Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/genderstories)

River Boy by Innocent Chizaram IloBura thought he was an ordinary kid until one day when the world he’s known is threatened to be taken away from him. River Boy was originally published in Fireside Fiction at FiresideFiction.com. Find Ilo on twitter @ethereal_Ilo.Music: Fireheart by J1*licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution license (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/)Support the show (http://patreon.com/talesfromablackuniverse)

Raders by Nelson Stanley   They called themselves the Raders, and if you didn’t know, you’d swear that they were waiting for something: a bunch of boyed-up cookers, second-string hot hatches and shopping trollies adorned with bazzing body-kits parked down at the overcliff again, throttles blipping in time to the breakbeats. Throaty roar from aftermarket back-boxes you could shove your fist up, throb of the bass counter-pointed by an occasional crack as a cheap six-by-nine gave up the ghost. Occasionally a sub overheated, leaving nothing but ear-splitting midrange and treble howling into the gale blowing rain off the sea. Mya had pushed half a pill into Maggie’s hand when the red XR2 picked her up outside the all-night Turkish takeaway, and Maggie regretted dropping it already, though at first she’d thought the high percentage of whizz in it might lend her enough chemical bravery to finally say what she wanted. Now her eyes rolled in her head and the rush made it difficult to speak. Sparks came off the edges of the headlights splitting the mizzle outside. Her nervous system uncoiled and re-knitted itself, reducing her to a warm soup through which the uppers fizzed and popped.     [Full story after the cut.] Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 72 for June 10, 2019. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Today we have a GlitterShip original, which starts off a new issue that you can pick up at GlitterShip.com/buy, on Gumroad at gum.co/gship08, or on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and other ebook retailers. If you’ve been waiting to pick up your copy of the Tiptree Award Honor Listed book, GlitterShip Year Two, there’s a great deal going on for Pride over at StoryBundle. GlitterShip Year Two is part of a Pride month LGBTQ fantasy fiction bundle. StoryBundle is a pay-what-you-want bundle site. For $5 or more, you can get four great books, and for $15 or more, you’ll get an additional five books, including GlitterShip Year Two, and a story game. That comes to as little as $1.50 per book or game. The StoryBundle also offers an option to give 10% of your purchase amount to charity. The charity for this bundle is Rainbow Railroad, a charity that helps queer folks get to a safe place if their country is no longer safe for them. http://www.storybundle.com/pride Our story today is “Raders” by Nelson Stanley. Before we get to that, though, here is our poem, “Vampiric Tendencies in the Year 4500” by Renee Christopher. Renee Christopher is an SFF writer and poet currently making it through her last Iowa winter. Noble / Gas has nominated her poetry for a Pushcart, and her first short story can be found in Fireside Fiction. Follow her on Twitter @reneesunok or on Mastodon @sunok@wandering.shop   Vampiric Tendencies in the Year 4500 By Renee Christopher   Moon-sewn mothgirls clot          near light, their search for glow similar to mine. The door left          ajar          allowed us both alternate methods for creation creatures merged          with cosmic teeth. Stars managed to adapt          find those who, thick as molasses, gleamed upon the trellis          of a new future. But what I look for flutters past a stand of deer          —bright and wingless, with champagne fingers and summer tongues. At least, the searing          reminds me of a time when the sun burned hot and fast.          Now the blood  I need drips neon from above, filters through          decadent soil in a system unknown. In this quest for light          source, I am not alone.   Nelson Stanley works in an academic library in the UK. His stories have been published recently in places like The Dark Magazine, the Lethe Press anthology THCock, Black Dandy, The Gallery of Curiosities, The Sockdolager, and Tough Crime. One of his stories was included in the British Fantasy Award-winning anthology Extended Play.   Raders by Nelson Stanley   They called themselves the Raders, and if you didn’t know, you’d swear that they were waiting for something: a bunch of boyed-up cookers, second-string hot hatches and shopping trollies adorned with bazzing body-kits parked down at the overcliff again, throttles blipping in time to the breakbeats. Throaty roar from aftermarket back-boxes you could shove your fist up, throb of the bass counter-pointed by an occasional crack as a cheap six-by-nine gave up the ghost. Occasionally a sub overheated, leaving nothing but ear-splitting midrange and treble howling into the gale blowing rain off the sea. Mya had pushed half a pill into Maggie’s hand when the red XR2 picked her up outside the all-night Turkish takeaway, and Maggie regretted dropping it already, though at first she’d thought the high percentage of whizz in it might lend her enough chemical bravery to finally say what she wanted. Now her eyes rolled in her head and the rush made it difficult to speak. Sparks came off the edges of the headlights splitting the mizzle outside. Her nervous system uncoiled and re-knitted itself, reducing her to a warm soup through which the uppers fizzed and popped. Waves thrashed at the rocks below the edge of the cliff. An occasional dark shape—a seagull, perhaps, blown off-course and away from the bins—fluttered into the edges of the headlights’ glare and then reeled away into the greater darkness. Hydro and tobacco exhaust vented through half-opened drivers’ windows and flavored the edges of the sooty exhaust smoke from a dozen engines running too rich. One or other spun dustbin-lid size alloys on the wet, loose tarmac with an angry howl, holding it on the handbrake, then—just when you might think that a clutch was about to melt—drop it hard so that fat low-profiles tramped up into the suspension turrets as the tires found purchase, slewing away to nail it down the narrow cliff road, returning from its circuit a few minutes later to rejoin the loose congregation in the car park. “See. What I mean is, we could be like... See? We don’t have to like... What I mean...” Maggie trailed off, frustrated not so much, perhaps, by her inability to articulate her emotions than by the inefficiency of talking as a medium for expression itself. Why couldn’t she just touch Mya, and have her know exactly what she meant? How she felt? She chewed savagely upon the inside of her bottom lip and fervently wished she’d brought some chewing gum, breath fast through her nose. She started to roll a ciggie, but her hands were shaking and tobacco and papers seemed alive in her hands. In the driver’s seat, Mya was doing her lippy in the rear-view, an action made more difficult by the way she was surfing the breakbeats pulsing from the stereo, pausing occasionally to puff on the spliff hanging out of the other side of her mouth. With a sigh that seemed practiced she twisted her lippy shut and dropped it amongst the scree of empty Embassy No.1 packets, roached Rizla cartons, baggies and half-crushed tins of cheap cider littering the dashboard. “Look,” she said, placing both hands on the steering wheel, as if what she had to say required anchoring herself more firmly to the car, “With you now it’s all ‘What I want’ and ‘What I think is’ and it just... I knew it’d get like this. Knew it. What you don’ get is, I don’t care. It’s over, girl. Let go.” Chemicals rushed into Maggie’s head like someone filling up a bath. She was frantically rubbing a rolling paper flat between her thumbs, gaze pinned to the wrinkled rectangle as if somewhere upon it was written a way out of this, a way to get Mya back. “I suppose I do need you,” Mya went on, leaning back in the Recaro and idly picking at a blim-hole in the upholstery while puffing luxuriantly on her smoke. “But not the way you need me. I can’t be the thing you want, y’know? It was fun, while it lasted, but is what it is, girl.” She glanced over at Maggie. “But you can still help, if you like.” Maggie—lorn and reeling from the chemicals thudding through her central cortex—tried to answer, but all that came out was a small hiccuping yelp. She nodded frantically. “Jesus fuck,” Mya said, and shoved the j toward her passenger. “D’you wan’ some of that?” she said, and it seemed to Maggie that there was love in the gesture, in Mya’s voice, real love, an outpouring of care and concern, and even if it wasn’t what Maggie wanted—that surging roil in her groin, the brimming of her heart that accompanied her memories of the two of them twined together in Mya’s bed, under the Congo Natty poster, the way Mya held her hand in public once or twice, walking back through the rain and the ghost-haunted dawn, hoodies pulled up against the wind—then, still, it unlocked such a river of sweet-flowing sadness inside Maggie that she thought she might melt, right there in the XR2, melt outward in a great silent wave of warmth that blossomed from some secret core inside her body and pulsed through her, turning her flesh to something at once liquid and as evanescent as smoke. “Jesus fuck,” Mya said again, peering into Maggie’s face. “If you vom all on my Recaros I swear down I will kick you out right here, get me?”, but Maggie knew she wouldn’t, knew she wouldn’t do that, and she was right.   Outside, other cars were gathering, as if drawn by the bass or the lights, as if boyed-up hatches were sad deep-sea creatures, huddling together for mutual warmth around some abyssal vent. Inside, in the thick dusty warmth blowing out of the demister, Maggie shucked off her hoodie and T-shirt, down to her bra, worming her shoulder blades into the fabric of the passenger seat. Though she rolled her eyes at this, Mya was at least calmer now that Maggie had smoked herself into a place of happy burbling. She cranked down the window as a battered G1 CRX pulled up, fishtank lights glowing underneath the sills and an acre of filler across its back three-quarter panel as if it suffered the ravages of some terrible disease. The relentless, tinny grinding of mid-period Sick of it All pounding from the CRX met the XR2’s sweetly dubbing Jungle, twisted in the rain into a horrifying new hybrid. The boy in the CRX, baseball cap pulled down low, leaned out the window and put his hand out for a fistbump, got left hanging, pulled it in reluctantly and settled further down into his Parka. “It’s nearly time,” Mya said to him. He sniffed. “Aye.” “You gonna lead?” He shrugged, somewhat restrained by his seatbelt. “Thought you were gonna. As it’s, like, your party n’that.” All around the car-park hatches were circling now, splashing through the puddles: a well-loved 205 GTI with engine mounts so shot that it kangaroo-ed on the clutch, pitching the front-end like an obsequious underling kowtowing to its superior so that the add-on plastic chin spoiler spat a spray of gravel in front of it. A cooking Sierra twin-cam done out to look like a Cossie decided to show the front-drive pretenders what they were missing out on, and started power-oversteering around the edge of the circling hatches, back end slewing dangerously close before a hefty stomp on the throttle and an armful opposite-lock sent it whirling away. Maggie, eyes rolling saucer in her head, could only see trails of light, fireworks steaming in the dark, light spidering out of itself to scrawl the night, after-images licking at the edges of the rain. “Where we going?” she said, struggling upright in the seat, pulse thrumming up through her, a solid lump in her throat. “We’re gonna take a trip to Faerieland,” Mya said as she took the XR2 out of the carpark, the Raders peeling off after her, each trailing a respectable distance behind the other, jostling for position down the narrow slip road. “The land of the dead, the shining place on the hill where the Good Stuff comes from, where they take you when it’s all over.” Maggie watched the empty wet streets go past, everything wet and filthy, the streetlamps chrysanthemum bursts of light. The Raders peeled off and followed one-by-one in a continuous rising and falling of fat aftermarket tailpipes and tinny drum’n’bass, punctuated occasionally by the telltale clunk-woosh of a dump valve some joker had bolted on to a naturally-aspirated Golf. They snaked down the road leading from the overcliff, overly-fat radials whispering across the wet tarmac then ka-thumping awkwardly as they bottomed out on the potholes because they’d lowered their suspension by cutting their coil springs with an angle grinder. “Think on,” said Mya, checking her reflection in the rear-view, “Think, Maggie. A place—well, not quite a place—somewhere they talk in the high-pitched whistle of bats, words you hear not with your ears but something lodged in the back of your brain. They got stuff there, one tiny hit’ll burn through your soul, let you touch the face of God and strip away your skin, make you forget all the shit life drops in your lap.” Beyond the glass, the neon frontage on dingy shops and cheap bars spread and blurred in firework streaks. Maggie convulsed in her seatbelt, clawing at the tensioner as it ratcheted too-tightly around her stomach. The XR2 lurched over a speed-bump outside Syndicate—the townie girls lined up on the wet pavement clutching their purses, tugging ineffectually at two inches’ of skirt as the rain blew in sideways from the seafront, the young boys with too much hair product reeking of cheap body-spray and grabbing their crotches as they shotgunned cans of lager—and for a second Maggie thought she might actually be sick, but luckily it passed. “A place where you never have to think,” said Mya, idly flicking ash off the end of her j as she took to the wrong side of the road to pass a dawdling hatchback—big swoosh of locked brakes against wet tarmac, cacophony of horns blaring into the night—“Where you never get hungry, or sad, or old.” Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Mya chose that moment to take the inside, getting both nearside wheels up on the curb as she passed a recovery lorry turning on to the main road, orange spinning light sending weird tiger stripes strobing across the interior of the XR2. As Mya straightened up, fighting the bit of aquaplane as she brought it level, she continued: “There was this girl, see. She was just like any other. Stupid but not free. She met another girl, and fell in love. The sex was fucking epic—” and at this Maggie gave a low moan—“for starters, but wasn’t just meat-meet, wasn’t just something in the cunt or the brain or the blood. This other girl showed the first one things she’d never seen. A new way of looking at the world—” Traffic lights bloomed like fireworks through the rain-swept windscreen as Mya, faced with the inconvenience of a stop signal, took a shortcut through the carpark of a pub, narrowly missing someone’s Transit pulling out of a space then nipping back into the snarl of traffic, agonised howls of horns behind them like the baying of something monstrous. “A new pair of eyes.” Maggie nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “The world seemed changed,” Mya went on. “Everything was magic.” The speed of their passage smeared the neon of a kebab shop across the night, and Maggie, her hand up to wave away a stray strand of hair that she swore was scuttling across her face like a spider, was left staring, open-mouthed, soul tightening in her throat as it sought to escape the skin, astonished at the colored lights crawling and twisting across her skin. “She showed her things she never dreamed existed, never dreamed could exist. Then, her lover told this girl that she couldn’t have her, that it wasn’t to be. Where her lover came from, she said, that place was different to ours, and she had to go back there. She came from far away, from a place out beyond the days of working shit jobs for the man and burning up your nights in Rizlas and watching them drift,” Mya said, exhaling a long cloud of dope smoke. As it hit the windscreen and flattened out Maggie watched the coils interpolate and shiver in a slow-motion swirl, and the spirals twisted and convulsed and in the whirl there were bodies churning, moving against each other in a liquid tumble, figures clotted together and sliding through each other and as she watched featureless heads opened empty mouths in silent screams of ecstasy and lust— Taking another big roundabout, Mya let the XR2 go sideways for shits and giggles, whoosh of tires on wet asphalt, and the stately procession of the Raders followed, each making the same playful half-wobble in the Ford’s wake, then out on the ring-road past industrial estates lit up garishly by high-powered halogens. Maggie dry-swallowed the lump in her throat, convulsed slightly, gasped out: “I think I’m gonna need another pill, if we’re going to a rave.” Mya ignored her. “This other lover, she told the girl she was in deep, that where she came from they never died, but every so often one of them had to pay a price, tithe to the Man Who Waits, the Man Who Must Be Paid, and that it was her turn to pay.” On the edge of a judder of chemicals as they sped down the pulsing freeways of her blood, Maggie found her voice: “I’d’ve loved to have gone to a rave with you. We never did, did we? There was that big one, down by the river, in the old tire factory? We never made it,” and she trailed off, the memory of that night coming back to hit her: going round someone’s house to score, the crunch of the purple-y crystals in the baggie with the smiley on it. Too greedy to wait, they’d each cut a line that glistened like finely-ground glass on the back of a CD case, huffed it back, shrieking and clapping and giggling at the burn as it dissolved their mucus membranes. They’d staggered out of the dealer’s house arm-in-arm, already giggling, bathed in the streetlamp’s orange glow, hands slipping between hoodies and jeans against the cold. Before they knew it they were fucking each other raw in an alley behind the closed-down Tesco Express, panting against the bins, colors streaming from the edges of their vision as fingers worked in the cold.   Mya’s hand dropped swiftly off the gearstick, squeezed Maggie’s knee. “Nearly there,” she whispered. Maggie was halfway to replying “No, no you fucking weren’t, with the Mollie you took ages to come, I had to go down on you, knees in a puddle, my Diesels got fucking wet through,” when she looked up, and saw. The lights of a deserted superstore glowing through the murk like the warning lights of a ship out at sea. To either side light industrial units glowered through the rain. Something that might’ve been a dog scurried through the puddles collecting on the uneven tarmac, shook itself, then squeezed through the gap in a fence and was gone. The road descended as it cut across a valley. At the top of the valley sides, brooding behind razor wire, huge dark shapes reared against the night sky. The XR2 turned up a driveway you could get an articulated lorry through, between steep banks choked with wet gorse. She pulled up in a huge open space across which the low-profiles bucked and jinked, big wheels nervous over the ruts. Ahead of them, a locked gate, skin of plate iron welded onto a framework of quarter-inch box-section, topped with barbed wire like icing on a birthday cake, stained with something that shone dark in the backwash off the streetlights, something that might’ve been oil. “Mya, babe,” said Maggie, “where the fuck are we?” The rest of the Raders, fallen behind in traffic or cut off from the XR2 by stop lights, began to wheel out of the night on to the forecourt, pulling up in a rough circle. One by one, the engines died, leaving just the reflections of their under-sill lights on the wet tarmac and their headlights cutting through the rain, deepening the shadows on the huge organic-seeming shapes sprawled up the side of the valley. From behind the ringing in her ears, Maggie thought she heard a sound far-off like bells, irregular, plangent, as if they’d taken a wrong turn and were down by the sea and could hear the ships still rolling at anchor in the wind, or when you’d gone to a free party and got mashed and passed out next to a sixteen foot high speaker and woke up with your head ringing and chiming, every sound distant and jangling for the next few days. Mya smiled, leaned back in the driver’s seat, pulled another joint from a crevice on the dash, held it by the twist-shut and shook it to level it out. “This is Faerieland, babe.” Mya, an easy smile playing about her lips, sparked up the j. Maggie, spiking on another wave off her pill, nodded, started frantically chewing out her lip. “Is this like when we—” Mya pressed a finger to her lips and the dry knuckle against Maggie’s mouth smelled of hash and tobacco and the pleasantly artificial tang of raspberry lipstick. “This is like nothing you’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Now. Why don’t you unclasp your seatbelt?” Maggie fancied she could hear a sort of whistling twitter, a high-pitched oscillation at the edge of hearing, like weaponized tinnitus. The noise got under her skin, wormed its way inside her nerves, crawled along her limbs and set itself just behind her eyes, where it fluttered and beat against the inside of her head like a moth caught in a lampshade. The noise—and whatever she’d taken—made it difficult for her to think straight. She rubbed frantically at her eyes, which seemed to have dried out, and a starshell burst across her vision. “It’s nearly time,” Mya said, taking a deep hit off her j. “They’re here.” When Maggie looked again, things were moving in the darkness at the edge of the headlights, detaching themselves with a slinking motion from the huge shapes up on top of the hill, flowing through the night, drawing near to the edge of the pale circles cast by the Raders. Then—just when she thought she might be able to see what they were—edging back, staying tantalizingly out of reach. They moved on all fours. There was the suggestion of an angular, branched shape, like a four-branch exhaust manifold. A headlight found the edge of one of them for a second, but they were gone so quickly it was impossible to make anything else out other than the suggestion of wet fur, oil-slick pelt, stealthy stalking in the ebon night. “What the fuck we doing, Mya?” Mya shook her off. She held her right hand out of the car, in the rain, as if leaning to get the ticket from a tollbooth, then let it drop. The headlights of the Raders went off in a volley, and the night bloomed with afterimages that writhed violet and ultramarine and a pure, actinic cobalt that burned into Maggie’s retinas as if she’d been staring intently at the base of a MIG welder. Through or under these distortions moved other, darker shapes, suggested by the gaps between the swirling colors on the edges of the twisting light. The chittering increased, like the noise a tweeter made if you wired it in when spliffed up so that it was grounding to earth via the RCA connector. “The only way this girl’s lover could be free, was if someone could take her place.” Mya smiled at Maggie, and there was sadness in it, a sadness that wrenched Maggie so that she jerked and flopped, a spasming convulsion that took all of her strength from her and left her hanging from the seatbelt, spent and useless as a discarded condom hanging from a fence. She tried to raise her head and it sagged useless and boneless on her neck. The darkness rippled and shifted. Something was pulling itself in to existence, shapes coalescing from darkness, shapes Maggie half-recognized, tantalized as they formed then—just on the cusp of understanding—flowed into something else. Waves of prickling heat chased themselves across her, as if she was coming up again, but she was cold, bone cold, breath shallow like one nearing death, alone and lost in some icy hell. Mya slipped her own seatbelt off and stepped outside, into the hush. She opened Maggie’s door and unclipped the belt, and Maggie fell forward, body gone liquid and useless, all her bones melted into a delicious slow ooze. The kiddie from the CRX with the baseball cap appeared at her side, and together he and Mya hauled Maggie out of the seat, trainers skidding on uneven greasy concrete, half-carried and half-dragged her limp scarecrow body between them, laid her gently on the wet rough cement. A shipwreck puddled on the ground, Maggie’s eyes rolled up to the looming outlines against the clouds, and suddenly—with a burst of icy clarity like a siren cutting through your high, telling you it was time to fuck off out of the rave and head for home—she knew where she was. This, this was the place where the dead go. She could smell it, corruption, the sickly smell of ancient automotive glass gone sugary and fragile, of prehistoric hydraulic grease thickening like wax as it seeped back to the tar whence it came, fishy castor-oil tang of gone-off brake fluid and the tired dead-dinosaur ghost-smell of very old petrol, an undercurrent of spoiling, long-banned industrial pollutants, the waxy whiff of chrome-effect plastic as it expired in the wind. Immense effort, all she had, everything given to a squirm of her neck, cheek scraped by wet concrete, and she could see—how could she see? Vision finally adjusted to darkness or some passing benediction of whatever it was Mya had given her?—a makeshift board up on the slope, where someone had painted the word “FAERIELAND” in thick daubs of blue paint. Behind and above it, the huge misshapen outlines against the sky resolved themselves, trompe l’oeil turning the vast near-organic mass to cars piled atop each other in collapsing columns, sprawling aggregation of vehicular death, charnel-house of discarded bangers, piles of engines rearing against the sky like hearts piled up after some battlefield atrocity, ragged rusting wings hanging off like torn pinions of dying angels, Mcpherson strut-assemblies unbolted but left attached so that they dangled from brake lines like new appendages extruded by some automotive nightmare creature testing which shape would be best to crawl out of its pit and stalk across the land, delivering vengeance to those who’d left it here after years of faithful service, those who deserted it to rot in the polluted air and sink slowly into the mire of mud and the butchered remnants of its comrades. The place where the dead go. Faerieland. The land of the dead. And, out from that huge pile of automotive corpses, out from under the shattered sills and pent-in roofs, flowing out like poison from trailing umbilical fuel lines and ventricles of disassembled engines, from the aortas of shattered fuel injection systems, from underneath chassis twisted like paper and from cracked-open gearboxes, out from the jeweled synchromesh and delicately-splined shafts of sundered transaxles and torn-open wiring harnesses spewing copper filaments like multicolored nerves, they came. The real Raders, the OG crew. They poured into the space before the cars like oil hitting water, as their forms adjusted to the limits of their new environment. They made the stuff of the night sing across human neurons and their wake through what we call the real produced a noise like far-off carillons of many bells and a chittering like angry bats. As they came down the hill the air hummed with their presence, spat and crackled and buzzed like high-voltage lines in wet weather, like a pylon singing to itself in the rain. The scrapyard smell receded and the night filled with the evanescent, sickly-sweet smell of violets—flickering across the nose then gone!—then an overpowering burst of eglantine and woodbine, stopping up the throat like death. The steeds they rose had lashed themselves together out of the rotting pile of scrap: corrugated flanks flaking away in oxide scabs, stamping hooves fashioned from brake discs, hydraulic piping and flex from cable looms bulging like sinews at their shoulders, mismatched headlamps for the eyes, exhaust-smoke breath billowing out in clouds from fanged maws made from the teeth of gearwheels and the lobes of camshafts. Their hounds were vast and black and bayed silently at their sides, the thick ruff of their pelt giving way at the shoulder to gleaming metal that heaved and rippled like flesh along the necks that held their great steel-antlered heads aloft. Impossible, implacable, reveling in their alien exhilaration, driven by compulsions innominate and terrible, they poured out into the night, churning up the bank as they came for Maggie. She sat blinking—unbelieving—as her doom streamed down the hill toward her, heart thudding slow in her chest. The Raders watched, for a time. Then, one by one, they fired up their engines and followed Mya’s XR2, as it swept back out onto the rainy streets. END   "Raders" is copyright Nelson Stanley 2019. "Vampiric Tendencies in the Year 4500" is copyright Renee Christopher, 2019. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on iTunes, or buying your own copy of the Summer 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy. You can also support us by picking up a free audiobook at  www.audibletrial.com/glittership. Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a reprint of "Désiré" by Megan Arkenberg.

NB: THIS EPISODE CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE. "Curse Like a Savior," by Russell Nichols -- published in Apex Magazine, issue 118, March 2019. Read it here: http://www.apex-magazine.com Russell Nichols is a speculative fiction writer and endangered journalist. Raised in Richmond, California, he sold all his stuff in 2011 and now lives out of a backpack with his wife, vagabonding around the world. Find his work in Fiyah, Apex Magazine, Fireside Fiction, Strange Horizons, Nightmare Magazine's POC Destroy Horror special issue and others. Look for him at russellnichols.com. This Apex Magazine podcast was produced by KT Bryski. Music in this podcast includes "On the Ground," "Arcadia," and "Angel Share," all by Kevin MacLeod and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution license. For more information, visit him at www.incompetech.com. Our narrator for this episode is Dominick Rabrun. Dominick Rabrun was born in Brooklyn, New York, and now lives near Washington, DC. At an early age he discovered his love of cartoons, computers, books, comics, and video games. This led to an exploration of experimental and artistically expressive artwork as an adult. Dom fully embraces the syncretic nature of his art, which is powered by a complex and unique mixture of influences and mediums. He can be seen and heard weekly on Dom’s Sketch Cast, a show that blends interviews, animations, and experimental video art. Apex Magazine podcast, copyright Apex Publications. Apex Magazine is a monthly short fiction zine focused on dark science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Find us at http://www.apex-magazine.com.

"Cold Iron Comfort," by Hayley Stone -- published in Apex Magazine, issue 117, February 2019. Read it here: http://www.apex-magazine.com. Hayley Stone is a writer, editor, and poet from California. She is best known for her adult sci-fi novel, Machinations, which was chosen as one of Amazon’s Best Sci-fi & Fantasy Books for 2016. Her short fiction has appeared in Fireside Fiction, Escape Pod, Flash Fiction Online, and various anthologies, while her speculative poetry is widely available online. Hayley loves to hear from readers and writers. Find her at www.hnstoneauthor.com and on Twitter @hayley_stone. This Apex Magazine podcast was produced by KT Bryski. Music in this podcast includes "Mirage" "Dreamlike," and "Ice Demon," all by Kevin MacLeod and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution license. For more information, visit him at www.incompetech.com. Other sounds in this podcast provided by KT Bryski. Our narrator for this episode is Charity Rodriguez. Charity is a teacher by day and voiceover artist by night. As a voiceover artist she has a passion for telling and sharing stories with people of all ages. While her first love is fantasy, she is fascinated by stories of people from every walk and way of life and sees every day as an opportunity to explore the world around her. Apex Magazine podcast, copyright Apex Publications. Apex Magazine is a monthly short fiction zine focused on dark science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Find us at http://www.apex-magazine.com.

Author : Hayley Stone Narrator : Stephanie Malia Morris Host : Tina Connolly Audio Producer : Summer Brooks Discuss on Forums This story first appeared in Fireside Fiction, November 2017 Termination Shock TERMINATION SHOCK is a new roleplaying game from Greg Stolze, chronicling your adventures as an ordinary human rescued from hellish war by disorganized […] Source

Patreon support now standing at 430 – last week 431 Help us get to 500 Patreon Supporters. Main Fiction: "To Plant a Tree" by Adam RakunasThis story is original to StarShipSofa.Adam Rakunas is the author of the Philip K. Dick Award-nominated WINDSWEPT and its sequel, LIKE A BOSS. His short fiction has appeared in Futurismic.com, the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, and StarShipSofa. A former Southern Californian, he and his family now live in the Pacific Northwest. Find him online at giro.org and on Twitter @rakdaddy.Narrated by: Kate LechlerWhen she’s not teaching or editing, Kate Lechler writes about genetically-engineered unicorns from a lawn chair in her carport in Oxford, MS. She is a graduate of the Taos Toolbox workshop and her work has appeared in Podcastle, Fireside Fiction, and Metaphorosis, among other places. Find her at katelechler.com, or @katelechler on Twitter.Fact: Science News by J J Campanella See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

The Machine For a pair of socks, a guide takes our narrator on a tour of The Machine (representing our world), as well as all the various groups that try to effect or control it. The Author: Phenderson Djéli Clark is an occasional speculative fiction writer. His short SFF stories have appeared in online venues such as Daily Science Fiction, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, Fantasy-Magazine, Fireside Fiction, Tor.com and several print anthologies including Griots and Hidden Youth. His debut novella The Black God's Drums will be published by Tor in August 2018. You can read his ramblings on SFF, diversity and more at his blog The Disgruntled Haradrim (www.pdjeliclark.com). He also tweets stuff: @pdjeliclark. The Actor: Michael Taylor is undeniably the greatest man in the world. He enjoys games, puzzles, and experiencing interactive theatre to improve upon the subtle, intricate, yet uniquely brilliant greatness of Michael Taylor's mind. ​​ ---------------------------------------- The Water Walls of Enceladus Lily has contracted an extremely rare alien virus after contact with the Wergen, a species that worships and alores human beings. Lily's disfiguring condition makes her hideous to other humans, so she agrees to spend 5 years among the Wergen on Enceladus, but their cloying attention is driving her crazy, so she plots to escape. The Author: Mercurio D. Rivera’s short fiction has been nominated for the World Fantasy Award and has appeared in numerous venues such as Analog Science Fiction and Fact (forthcoming), Asimov's Science Fiction, Lightspeed, Interzone, i09, Nature, Black Static, Abyss & Apex, Space and Time, and elsewhere. His work has been anthologized in Year’s Best SF 34, ed. Gardner Dozois Other Worlds Than These, ed. John Joseph Adams, Year's Best SF 17, ed. Hartwell & Cramer, Unplugged: The Web's Best Sci-Fi and Fantasy, ed. Rich Horton, Paradox: Stories Inspired by the Fermi Paradox, and Solaris Rising 2, ed. Ian Whates. His stories have been podcast at Escape Pod, StarshipSofa, and Beam Me Up and translated and republished in China, the Czech Republic, Poland and Spain. Tor.com called his short story collection Across the Event Horizon (NewCon Press), “weird and wonderful,” with “dizzying switchbacks.” Find him online at mercuriorivera.com. The Actor: Tatiana Grey is a critically acclaimed actress of stage, screen, and the audio booth. She has been nominated for dozens of fancy awards but hasn’t won a single damned thing. She does, however have a feature film hitting the festival circuit called Serious Laundry. She lives in Brooklyn, New York. See more about Tatiana at www.tatianagrey.com tatianagomberg@gmail.com

Author : Merc Fenn Wolfmoor Narrator : Kate Baker Host : Summer Fletcher Audio Producer : Peter Adrian Behravesh Discuss on Forums First published in Fireside Fiction. Rated PG for vengeful mountains and the accursed dead. Iron Aria Merc Rustad The mountain dreams pain. Cold iron vibrates purple-blue deep in the stone, while tongues made from […] The post PodCastle 518: Iron Aria appeared first on PodCastle.

"A Priest of Vast and Distant Places," by Cassandra Khaw -- published in Apex Magazine, issue 106, March 2018. Read it here: http://www.apex-magazine.com. Cassandra Khaw writes horror, video games, tweets for money, articles about video games, and tabletop RPGs. These are not necessarily unrelated items. Her work can be found in professional short story magazines such as Clarkesworld, Fireside Fiction, Uncanny, and Shimmer. Cassandra's first paranormal rom-com Bearly a Lady released this year. Her recent Lovecraftian Southern Gothic, A Song for Quiet, is a considerably different animal. This Apex Magazine podcast was produced by KT Bryski. Music in this podcast included "Immersed," by Kevin MacLeod, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution License. Visit him at www.incompetech.com. Other sounds in this podcast provided by the Free Sound Project -- find out more at www.freesound.org. Our narrator for this episode is Marie Bilodeau. Marie is an Ottawa-based author and storyteller, with eight published books to her name. Her speculative fiction has won several awards and has been translated into French (Les Editions Alire) and Chinese (SF World). Marie is also a storyteller and has told stories across Canada in theatres, tea shops, at festivals, and under disco balls. She is co-host of the Archivos Podcast Network with Dave Robison, co-chair of Ottawa's speculative fiction literary convention CAN-CON with Derek Kunsken, co-chair of Ottawa ChiSeries with Nicole Lavigne and Matt Moore, and a casual blogger at Black Gate Magazine. Visit Marie at www.mariebilodeau.com. Apex Magazine podcast, Copyright Apex Publications. Apex Magazine is a monthly short fiction zine focused on dark science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Find us at http://www.apex-magazine.com.    

Author : Sarah Gailey Narrator : Dani Daly Hosts : Dani Daly and Alex Hofelich Audio Producer : Chelsea Davis Discuss on Forums This story was originally published in Issue 31 of Fireside Fiction in February 2016 Click to view content warnings: Spoiler Domestic Violence [collapse] Haunted by Sarah Gailey Read the full text here.

Nino is a queer and nonbinary/transgender writer. A multidisciplinary artist, Nino has written fiction, essays, plays, screenplays, comics, radio features, and many rabble-rousing emails. They have also performed as a dancer, actor, and puppeteer. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Nightmare Magazine, Tor.com,Cicada, Fireside Fiction, Liminal Stories, and other fine venues. One time, an angry person on the internet called Nino a verbal terrorist, which was pretty cool. You can find them online at ninocipri.com

Main Fiction: "A Book By It's Cover" by Colleen Anderson Originally published in Mirrorshards Colleen Anderson has been twice nominated for the Aurora Award in poetry, and longlisted for the Stoker Award. She has co-edited Tesseracts 17, and Playground of Lost Toys  which was nominated for a 2016 Aurora Award. She is currently editing for Alice Unbound. New or forthcoming works are in Grievous Angel, Futuristica, The Sum of US, OnSpec and others. Because there is not enough to do, she is working on an alternate history dark fiction novel and a poetry collection. www.colleenanderson.wordpress.com Her poetry chapbook Ancient Tales, Grand Deaths and Past Lives is available through Kelp Queen Press. http://kelpqueenpress.com/colleen_anderson.html. Narrated by: Kate Lechler When she's not teaching or editing, Kate Lechler writes about genetically-engineered unicorns from a lawn chair in her carport in Oxford, MS. She is a graduate of the Taos Toolbox workshop and her work has appeared in Podcastle, Fireside Fiction, and Metaphorosis, among other places. Find her at katelechler.com, or @katelechler on Twitter. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Malka Older‘s Centenal Cycle is set in the latter half of the 21st century and yet, like all good science fiction, it speaks to the current moment. Null States (Tor, 2017), the second book in her series, builds on the first, Infomacracy, which introduced readers to a near future in which the Earth is crisscrossed by a network of small but stable democracies. But in Null States, efforts to strengthen and expand this world order are threatened by unknown plotters. What makes Older’s books so timely is that they address some of the most vexing challenges of the Trump era, including the difficulty of separating truth from lies and the uphill effort to foster trust in government. Drawing on more than a decade of experience working for organizations that provide humanitarian aid and development, Older’s books introduce the idea of mini-nations known as microdemocracies. These tiny states are capped at 100,000 citizens in an effort to ensure that the minority always has a voice. Each microdemocracy can vote for any government around the world, so that coalitions of micro-sovereignties are not massed in one geographic location but scattered around the globe. In a dense city, this means that different microdemocracies can arise every few blocks, with one (for example) under-girded by Rastafarianism and the next guided by the principles of Chabad. In order to ensure the efficient and fair administration of this system, an organization called Information provides expert advice, education and resources. Older describes Information as a cross between Google and the United Nations. Perhaps Information’s most important function is to constantly stream verified, annotated facts to every citizen as an antidote to fake news, a term that has grown increasingly popular in recent years even though the underlying problem, as Older points out, has been “going on probably for as long as we can trace history and politics.” For Older, science fiction is an opportunity to explore neither dystopia nor utopia but the real world in between — a place where her policy-minded imagination can explore practical solutions. “I wanted to show some ideas I’d been thinking about that would improve things in some ways, but they could also make some things worse,” she says in her New Books interview. “There is no perfect system. We’re not aiming to find some system that will work for every case and every country and every group of people and then we’re done. I think what’s really important is the process and the struggle.” Related links: * Older’s short story Narrative Disorder and her essay The Narrative Spectrum appear in Fireside Fiction. Rob Wolf is the author of The Alternate Universe and The Escape. His writing has appeared in numerous publications, from The New York Times to the literary journal Thema. Follow him on Twitter @RobWolfBooks Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Malka Older‘s Centenal Cycle is set in the latter half of the 21st century and yet, like all good science fiction, it speaks to the current moment. Null States (Tor, 2017), the second book in her series, builds on the first, Infomacracy, which introduced readers to a near future in which the Earth is crisscrossed by a network of small but stable democracies. But in Null States, efforts to strengthen and expand this world order are threatened by unknown plotters. What makes Older’s books so timely is that they address some of the most vexing challenges of the Trump era, including the difficulty of separating truth from lies and the uphill effort to foster trust in government. Drawing on more than a decade of experience working for organizations that provide humanitarian aid and development, Older’s books introduce the idea of mini-nations known as microdemocracies. These tiny states are capped at 100,000 citizens in an effort to ensure that the minority always has a voice. Each microdemocracy can vote for any government around the world, so that coalitions of micro-sovereignties are not massed in one geographic location but scattered around the globe. In a dense city, this means that different microdemocracies can arise every few blocks, with one (for example) under-girded by Rastafarianism and the next guided by the principles of Chabad. In order to ensure the efficient and fair administration of this system, an organization called Information provides expert advice, education and resources. Older describes Information as a cross between Google and the United Nations. Perhaps Information’s most important function is to constantly stream verified, annotated facts to every citizen as an antidote to fake news, a term that has grown increasingly popular in recent years even though the underlying problem, as Older points out, has been “going on probably for as long as we can trace history and politics.” For Older, science fiction is an opportunity to explore neither dystopia nor utopia but the real world in between — a place where her policy-minded imagination can explore practical solutions. “I wanted to show some ideas I’d been thinking about that would improve things in some ways, but they could also make some things worse,” she says in her New Books interview. “There is no perfect system. We’re not aiming to find some system that will work for every case and every country and every group of people and then we’re done. I think what’s really important is the process and the struggle.” Related links: * Older’s short story Narrative Disorder and her essay The Narrative Spectrum appear in Fireside Fiction. Rob Wolf is the author of The Alternate Universe and The Escape. His writing has appeared in numerous publications, from The New York Times to the literary journal Thema. Follow him on Twitter @RobWolfBooks Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Malka Older‘s Centenal Cycle is set in the latter half of the 21st century and yet, like all good science fiction, it speaks to the current moment. Null States (Tor, 2017), the second book in her series, builds on the first, Infomacracy, which introduced readers to a near future in which the Earth is crisscrossed by a network of small but stable democracies. But in Null States, efforts to strengthen and expand this world order are threatened by unknown plotters. What makes Older’s books so timely is that they address some of the most vexing challenges of the Trump era, including the difficulty of separating truth from lies and the uphill effort to foster trust in government. Drawing on more than a decade of experience working for organizations that provide humanitarian aid and development, Older’s books introduce the idea of mini-nations known as microdemocracies. These tiny states are capped at 100,000 citizens in an effort to ensure that the minority always has a voice. Each microdemocracy can vote for any government around the world, so that coalitions of micro-sovereignties are not massed in one geographic location but scattered around the globe. In a dense city, this means that different microdemocracies can arise every few blocks, with one (for example) under-girded by Rastafarianism and the next guided by the principles of Chabad. In order to ensure the efficient and fair administration of this system, an organization called Information provides expert advice, education and resources. Older describes Information as a cross between Google and the United Nations. Perhaps Information’s most important function is to constantly stream verified, annotated facts to every citizen as an antidote to fake news, a term that has grown increasingly popular in recent years even though the underlying problem, as Older points out, has been “going on probably for as long as we can trace history and politics.” For Older, science fiction is an opportunity to explore neither dystopia nor utopia but the real world in between — a place where her policy-minded imagination can explore practical solutions. “I wanted to show some ideas I’d been thinking about that would improve things in some ways, but they could also make some things worse,” she says in her New Books interview. “There is no perfect system. We’re not aiming to find some system that will work for every case and every country and every group of people and then we’re done. I think what’s really important is the process and the struggle.” Related links: * Older’s short story Narrative Disorder and her essay The Narrative Spectrum appear in Fireside Fiction. Rob Wolf is the author of The Alternate Universe and The Escape. His writing has appeared in numerous publications, from The New York Times to the literary journal Thema. Follow him on Twitter @RobWolfBooks Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

‘We need to include all voices.’ This podcast was set up to increase the conversation around a marginalised group in speculative fiction: women. But women aren’t the only marginalised voices in the industry. Fireside Fiction recently published a report on the embedded racism in the SF publishing industry, including this revelation: In 2015, of 2,039 […] The post African speculative fiction with Chinelo Onwualu first appeared on Breaking the Glass Slipper.

‘We need to include all voices.' This podcast was set up to increase the conversation around a marginalised group in speculative fiction: women. But women aren't the only marginalised voices in the industry. Fireside Fiction recently published a report on the embedded racism in the SF publishing industry, including this revelation: In 2015, of 2,039 […] The post African speculative fiction with Chinelo Onwualu first appeared on Breaking the Glass Slipper.

  ”The Gentleman of Chaos” by A. Merc Rustad -- published in Apex Magazine issue 87, August 2016.   Read it here: http://www.apex-magazine.com/the-gentleman-of-chaos/ Enjoy our interview with the author here: http://www.apex-magazine.com/interview-with-a-merc-rustad/ A. Merc Rustad is a queer transmasculine non-binary writer who lives in the Midwest United States. Favorite things include: robots, dinosaurs, monsters, and tea. Their stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Lightspeed, Fireside Fiction, Apex, Escape Pod, Shimmer, Cicada, The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2015, and Wilde Stories 2016. Merc likes to play video games, watch movies, read comics, and wear awesome hats. You can find Merc on Twitter @Merc_Rustad or their website: http://amercrustad.com. This Apex Magazine Podcast was performed and produced by Mahvesh Murad. Music used with kind permission of BenSound.com! Apex Magazine Podcast, Copyright Apex Publications. Apex Magazine is a monthly short fiction zine focused on dark science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Find us at http://www.apex-magazine.com.  

The Face of Heaven So Fine Kat Howard There is an entire history in the stars. Light takes time to travel, to get from wherever the star is to wherever we can see it, here, on Earth. So when you think about it, when we see the stars, we are looking back in time. Everything those stars actually shone on has already happened. But just because a story already happened, that doesn’t mean it’s finished. Full transcript after the cut. ----more---- Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 26 for April 19th, 2016. I'm your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing these stories with you. It's been a while since GlitterShip last ran flash fiction, so I'm treating you to an episode with three flash stories in it. This episode also marks the return of Bogi Takács, whose fiction previously appeared in GlitterShip episode 3, "This Shall Serve As a Demarcation." Our first story today is "The Face of Heaven So Fine" by Kat Howard Kat Howard lives in New Hampshire. Her short fiction has been nominated for the World Fantasy Award, anthologized in year's best and best of collections, and performed on NPR. Her debut novel, Roses and Rot, will be out in May from Saga Press. You can find her on twitter at @KatWithSword. The Face of Heaven So Fine Kat Howard There is an entire history in the stars. Light takes time to travel, to get from wherever the star is to wherever we can see it, here, on Earth. So when you think about it, when we see the stars, we are looking back in time. Everything those stars actually shone on has already happened. But just because a story already happened, that doesn’t mean it’s finished. Juliet was the bleeding heart of a story, made flesh and made gorgeous. She was all eyeliner and fishnets, the kind of girl who looked like she’d carve designs on her own skin, not because she was trying to hurt herself, but just for the beauty of it, you know? It wasn’t ever herself that Juliet cut, though. It was her lovers. All of them. That was the deal. A fuck, and then a perfect star, cut out of their skin. The scars were like a badge of honor. Proof you’d been with her. People would ask her to put them some place visible, those little stars she cut out of people, but Juliet chose. Juliet always chose. I fell in love with Juliet the first time I met her, which doesn’t make me any different from anyone else. I know that. That’s just how it was with Juliet. If you fell in love with her, it was an instant, headlong crash. I don’t think she fell in love back. It didn’t matter. She was like a star – so bright that everything else seemed dim when she walked into the room. It was enough to be in her orbit. I met her for the first time at a party. I knew who she was. Everyone knew who Juliet was. She was a love story with a knife, and a tattoo of an apothecary’s vial. But when we met, I was dancing, and some guy bumped into me, and I tripped. When I put my hands out to catch myself, it was her shoulders that they landed on. She leaned close, her lips almost brushing my ear, “You’re Rose, right?” I nodded. “Let’s dance.” We did. We danced until I could taste her sweat mixed with mine, until I wasn’t sure whether the ache in my thighs was from exhaustion or desire. We danced until I saw stars, her hand under my shirt, tracing a constellation on my skin. Because of the distances between the stars and the Earth, some of the stars we see in the sky have already died, burnt themselves out. Some people think that’s sad, that we look up and see things that aren’t there anymore. I think it’s beautiful. It’s like, because we can still see them, in a way they’re still alive. After, when her fingers were still inside me, her head resting on my chest, I asked: “What do you do with the stars?” Juliet was silent long enough that I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, “There was a boy, and I loved him. It was the kind of love people write poetry and songs about. “He burned brighter than the stars, and then he died. And I didn’t. I thought I would, but I didn’t.” She climbed from the bed, and looked out the window. “I promised I would cut him out, and hang him in the heavens. That way, everyone can see him, and when they do, they’ll know he was worth everything.” Juliet cut the star from the skin on my chest, right over my heart. She used a dagger. “It was his,” she said when I asked. It hurt. Of course it hurt. The star of skin was the least of what she was cutting out of me. I had never wondered before how it was that people fell out of love with Juliet. The scar healed cleanly. Not just cleanly, but perfectly, a star shining on my skin. I look for him in the sky. That boy that Juliet loved so much that she would change the face of heaven for him. I don’t know how long it takes the light from those stars, the ones that she hangs, to reach us here, but I know that it will. I wonder if light reaches back in time, too. Maybe it’s impossible, but a lot of things are, and they happen anyway. I see the stars, and I wonder if that boy ever looked up at the sky and knew how much Juliet loved him. The kind of love people write songs and poetry about. The kind of love that is written in the stars. END Our next story is "A Thing with Teeth" by Nino Cipri Nino Cipri is a queer and genderqueer writer living in Chicago. Their writing has been published in Tor.com, Fireside Fiction, Podcastle , Daily Science Fiction, and other fine publications. A multidisciplinary artist, Nino has also written plays, essays, and radio features, and has performed as a dancer, actor, and puppeteer. They currently work as a bicycle mechanic, freelance writer, and occasional rabblerouser. A Thing with Teeth by Nino Cipri She started with Elena’s books. Sylvia tore out the blank back pages first, then the title pages, the dedications. Finally, the words themselves, the brittle pages of the story. She tore them into strips, sucked on them until they were soft, chewed them into balls and swallowed them. Sylvia thought she could detect hidden tastes on the pages. The worn copy of Harold and the Purple Crayon that Elena had kept since childhood was faintly sweet, like store-bought bread. The sex guide tasted coppery, and Elena’s journals had a hint of fake cherry, like cough drops. The books of poetry were minty, but with a bitter aftertaste. Elena’s letters were next. Torn into pieces, swallowed, hidden in the cavern below her throat. Sylvia could taste the dust on them, the fine desert sand that Elena said got into everything. She could taste gun oil, the military-issue soap, the hand-lotion that Sylvia had mailed across continents and oceans. She'd imagined Elena running into her dry, chapped knuckles when she'd packed it up. This stuff is worth its weight in gold around here, Elena had written. You’re a goddess. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. The words echoed in the empty part of Sylvia’s chest. Her stomach felt like an empty house, filled with dust and ghosts. She swallowed the death notification from the Army, and then the letter from Elena’s commanding officer. It included all the details that the official notification had left out, typed out in unadorned English: the ambush, the ground-to-air missiles, the crash, the fire. We couldn’t recover her remains from the wreck, he wrote. I’m sorry. It’s likely that she died from her wounds, and not the fire. She probably went quick. Sylvia thought again of Elena’s hands. Had she worn that lotion that day? Had she smelled its perfume before she died? Sylvia tore the letter into strips and let it dissolve on her tongue. If hope was a thing with feathers, what was grief? When the books and letters were gone, she ate their photos, the black-and-white strips from photo booths, the matte prints from their civil union, the out-of-focus pictures from their honeymoon in Puerto Rico. Still hungry, she started on Elena’s clothes next, the T-shirts with the ironic slogans, the cotton briefs, the lacy bras she rarely wore. Sylvia ate the sheets off their bed, both their bathrobes, a washcloth, a slipper. She ate Elena’s pocketbook. It took her four days and a heavy kitchen knife to finish off a pair of old hiking boots, chewing and chewing and chewing. All that and she still felt hollow, carved open like a canyon. Sylvia stood at the mirror with her aching jaw held open, peering into the inside of her own mouth. She half-expected to see words imprinted on the red skin of her throat, black letters crawling towards the tip of her tongue. Her breath fogged the mirror. When Sylvia spat, there were threads of blood in the saliva, mixed with something darker. Ink, maybe. Sylvia walked out of her house in her pajamas, into the cold, damp air. She ran her fingers over the bark of the oak tree that dominated the backyard, then knelt down on the grass and stared up at the sky through the branches, at the chalky moon, the glassy stars. She stared at her hands, the bitten nails and torn cuticles, knuckles dry and chapped. She pressed her fingertips to the cool, damp ground at the foot of the oak tree. It parted easily, and she came up with two small handfuls of dirt. Hesitantly, she put one in her mouth, pouring it past her lips. She worked it around her tongue, and then swallowed it. Sylvia worked quickly after that, digging her fingers into the damp sod. She clawed up chunks of the ground, shoving handful after handful into her mouth. By dawn, she’d swallowed enough dirt to fill a grave. She lay back, her hands caked with soil to her elbow, belly distended, lips and chin black with soil. Finally, she thought. I’m full. END   And, our final story is "Increasing Police Visibility" by Bogi Takács. Bogi Takács is an agender Hungarian Jewish author currently living in the US. E writes both speculative fiction and poetry, and eir works have been published in a variety of venues like Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, Capricious and Nature Futures, among others. E has an upcoming novelette in GigaNotoSaurus and a story in Defying Doomsday, an anthology of apocalypse-survival fiction with a focus on disabled characters, edited by Tsana Dolichva and Holly Kench. E also recently guest-edited an issue of inkscrawl, the magazine for minimalist speculative poetry. You can find Bogi on the web at http://www.prezzey.net and on twitter as @bogiperson.   Increasing Police Visibility by Bogi Takács   Manned detector gates will be installed at border crossings, including Ferihegy Airport, and at major pedestrian thoroughfares in Budapest. No illegally present extraterrestrial will evade detection, government spokesperson Júlia Berenyi claimed at today's press conference... Kari scribbles wildly in a pocket notebook. How to explain? It's impossible to explain anything to government bureaucrats, let alone science. Kari writes: To describe a measurement— Sensitivity: True positives / Positives = True positives / (True positives + False negatives) Specificity: True negatives / Negatives = True negatives / (False positives + True negatives) Kari decides even this is too complicated, tears out the page, starts over. To describe a measurement— Janó grits his teeth, fingers the pistol in its holster. The man in front of him is on the verge of tears, but who knows when suffering will turn into assault, without another outlet. “I have to charge you with the use of forged documents,” Janó says. “How many times do I have to say? I'm – not – an – alien,” the man yells and raises his hands, more in desperation than in preparation to attack. “Assault on police officers in the line of duty carries an additional penalty,” Janó says. The man breaks down crying. Kari paces the small office, practices the presentation. They will not understand because they don't want to understand, e thinks. Out loud, e says: “To describe any kind of measurement, statisticians have devised two metrics we're going to use. Sensitivity shows us how good the measurement is at finding true positives. In this situation, a person identified as an ET who is genuinely an ET.” The term ET still makes em think of the Spielberg movie from eir childhood. E sighs and goes on. “Whereas specificity shows us how good the measurement is at finding true negatives.” How much repetition is too much? “Here, a person identified as an Earth human who's really an Earth human.” The whole thing is just about keeping the police busy and visible. Elections are coming next year, Kari thinks. Right-wing voters eat up this authoritarian nonsense. “So if we know the values of sensitivity and specificity, and know how frequent are ETs in our population, we can calculate a lot. We can determine how likely it is for a person who was detected at a gate to be a real extraterrestrial.” Alien is a slur, e reminds emself. Eir officemate comes in, banging the door open. He glances at eir slide and yells. “Are they still nagging you with that alien crap?” The young, curly-haired woman is wearing an ankle-length skirt and glaring down at Janó — she must be at least twenty centimeters taller than him, he estimates. She is the seventh person that day who objects to a full-body scan. “This goes against my religious observance,” she says, nodding and grimacing. “I request a pat-down by a female officer.” She sounds practiced at this. Janó sighs. “A pat-down cannot detect whether you are truly an extraterrestrial.” “I will sue you!” “Sue the state, you're welcome,” he groans and pushes her through, disgusted with himself all the while. Kari is giving the presentation to a roomful of government bureaucrats. E's trying to put on a magician's airs. Pull the rabbit out of the hat with a flourish. “So let's see! No measurement is perfect. How good do you think your gates are at detecting ETs? Ninety percent? Ninety-five percent? You know what, let's make it ninety-nine percent just for the sake of our argument.” They would probably be happy with eighty, e thinks. E scribbles on the whiteboard – they couldn't get the office smartboard working, nor the projector. Eir marker squeaks. SENSITIVITY = 99% SPECIFICITY = 99% “And now, how many people are actually ETs in disguise? Let's say half percent.” That's probably a huge overestimate still, e thinks. “So for a person who tests as an ET, the probability that they truly are an ET can be calculated with Bayes' theorem...” E fills the whiteboard with eir energetic scrawl. E pauses once finished. The calculations are relatively easy to follow, but e hopes even those who did not pay attention can interpret the result. Someone in the back hisses, bites back a curse. Some people whisper. “Yes, it's around 33 percent,” Kari says. “In this scenario, two thirds of people who test as ETs will be Earth humans. And this gets even worse the rarer the ETs are.” And the worse your sensitivity and specificity, e thinks but doesn't add. E isn't here to slam the detection gate technology. “This, by the way, is why general-population terrorist screenings after 9/11 were such abysmal failures.” Americans are a safe target here; the current crop of apparatchiks is pro-Russian. This is math. There is nothing to argue with here. Some of the men still try. Kari spends over an hour on discussion, eir perkiness already worn off by the half-hour mark. “We can't just stop the program,” a middle-aged man finally says. “It increases police visibility in the community.” Kari wishes e could just walk out on them, but what would that accomplish? “I had a horrible day,” Kari/Janó say simultaneously, staring at each other: their rumpled, red-eyed, rattled selves. “I hate myself,” Janó says. “I'm useless,” Kari says. Then they hug. Then they kiss. Below their second-story window, on Klauzál Square, an extraterrestrial materializes out of thin air, dodging the gates.  _____________ Endnotes: For those interested in the actual calculations, the Bayes' Theorem page on Wikipedia demonstrates them with the numbers used in the story, in the context of drug testing. I first heard the terrorism comparison from Prof. Floyd Webster Rudmin at the University of Tromsø, Norway. END "The Face of Heaven So Fine" was originally published in the February 2013 issue of Apex Magazine. "A Thing with Teeth" was originally published in Eunoia Review in 2013. "Increasing Police Visibility" was originally published in the June 2015 issue of Lightspeed: Queers Destroy Science Fiction. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license, which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the  Google Audio Library. Thanks for listening, and I'll be back on May 3rd with a GlitterShip original. [Music Plays Out]