Podcasts about twelfth planet press

Writer, policy adviser, audio producer and accessibility consultant, Jonathan Craig, joins Scotia for a discussion about how disaster planning can be improved by connecting with people as individuals and bringing the lived experience of community members to the table.Jonathan is a policy advisor for Vision 2020 and has worked with Arts House Melbourne on several projects including Refuge, and the Warehouse Residency program for deaf and disabled artists.Recently, Jonathan was part of the creative team behind Exercise Torrent - the City of Melbourne's annual disaster preparedness exercise. He reflects on the project and discusses the windows of opportunity that arts-based approaches can offer into aspects of preparedness sometimes overlooked by traditional processes, like accessibility.LinksJonathan Craig, Twitterhttps://twitter.com/j_d_x?lang=en Putting the Pieces Together: How the City of Melbourne is strengthening disaster management through creativity https://creativerecovery.net.au/creative-responders-podcast/documentary-series/s3-episode-10/ Defying Doomsday, Twelfth Planet Press http://www.twelfthplanetpress.com/products/ebooks/defying-doomsdayRebuilding Tomorrow, Twelfth Planet Presshttp://defyingdoomsday.twelfthplanetpress.com/rebuilding-tomorrow/ Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darknesshttps://www.ursulakleguin.com/left-hand-darkness The Refuge Project, Arts House https://www.artshouse.com.au/artist-opportunities/refuge/ Convergence, Arts House https://www.artshouse.com.au/events/convergence/ Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The rarest and wisest characters tell their own tale and create their own mythology. C.S.E. Cooney, Mimi Mondal, and Joshua A.C. Newman bring you characters that refuse to conform. "The Foxgirl Cycle" by C.S.E. Cooney, Read by C.S.E. Cooney, produced by Jeremy Cooney and Stefan Mark Dollak C.S.E. Cooney is the author of World Fantasy Award-winning Bone Swans: Stories. Her short novel The Twice-Drowned Saint is included in Mythic Delirium's anthology The Sinister Quartet. Her forthcoming novel Saint Death's Daughter will be out with Rebellion in Spring of 2022. Other work includes Tor.com novella Desdemona and the Deep, and short fiction and poetry in Jonathan Strahan's anthology Dragons, Ellen Datlow's Mad Hatters and March Hares: All-New Stories from the World of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, Rich Horton's Year's Best Science Fiction and Fantasy, and elsewhere. Aspiring dungeon master, audiobook engineer, podcaster, and musician, Jeremy Cooney draws inspiration from bawdy pirate tales, Irish and American folk music, sword and sorcery fantasy, and gritty science fiction. His projects include Hail the Void (a 5th Edition DnD podcast starring his companion, his brother, his mother, and his friends) and editing and production of the Gown of Harmonies audiobook by Francessca Forrest. ​The early music specialist Stefan Mark Dollak plays lutes, hurdy-gurdy, the pipe & tabor, the bladder-pipe, guitar, mandolin, pennywhistle, ukulele, harmonica, krummhorns, bass guitar, ocarina, and possibly other instruments. In addition to early music on period instruments, Stef has performed traditional folk music, classical, pop, world music, ambient, ritual, trance, and even a few showtunes. "Sailing to the Underworld" by Mimi Mondal with Joshua A.C. Newman, Read by Jose Febus Mimi Mondal is a Dalit writer of speculative fiction and social-justice nonfiction, and the Poetry and Reprints Editor of Uncanny Magazine. Her first anthology, Luminescent Threads: Connections to Octavia Butler, co-edited with Alexandra Pierce, was published by Twelfth Planet Press in 2017. Mimi's writings have also appeared in Uncanny Magazine, Anathema Magazine,The Book Smugglers, Podcastle, Daily Science Fiction, Scroll.in, and other publications. She is the recipient of the Octavia E. Butler Scholarship for the Clarion West Writing Workshop in 2015. More about her background, politics, literary tastes and editorial preferences can be found at this interview with the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association. Mimi lives in Manhattan and tweets from @Miminality. Joshua A.C. Newman is a publisher, author, illustrator, game designer, graphic designer, and experimental musician. He lives in Arkham, Massachusetts with no cats and a suspicious pile of electronic components. Jose Febus's credits include the short film " Not Guilty" for which the award of Best Actor was honored at the My Final Shot Production Film Festival. Other films include Attempted Burglary, Plurality and Chicago Boricua. Television credits include The Path, Blindspot, Law & Order, Law & Order Criminal Intent. Web Series - East Willy B. His Off-Off Broadway credits include O'Rex with the G&F Company, The Deep Run at PRTT and Acts of Mercy written by Michael John Garces at The Rattlestick Theater. Regional credits include Ana in the Tropics at the Portland Center Stage, Williamstown Theater and the Hartford Stage Co. jlfebus@hotmail.com

In which we finally complete the Joanna Russ book club in our final ep for 2019!   Tansy - Terror Australis   Alex goes to Broadside, The Wheeler Centre’s festival of feminist ideas, and is confronted by whiteness. (https://broadside.wheelercentre.com)   WHAT’S NEW ON THE INTERNET:   Rebuilding Tomorrow crowdfunded - postponed JOANNA RUSS BOOK CLUB: Author’s Note and Afterword CULTURE CONSUMED:   Alisa: the great Twelfth Planet Press move (again)   Tansy: The Strange Case of the Alchemist’s Daughter, Theodora Goss; The Crown; Big Finish: Cicero; Dead Media by John Richards;    Alex: Infomocracy, Malka Older; The Name of the Rose (tv series); White Tears/ Brown Scars, Ruby Hamad   Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

Double standards with Joanna Russ, Christmas specials, and does the Addams Family hold up? Pre-order the new Twelfth Planet Press holiday novellas: Merry Happy Valkyrie, by Tansy Rayner Roberts Marry Me, Mischa McPhee, by Kate Gordon Or check them out on the TPP webpage HOW TO SUPPRESS WOMEN WRITING: Joanna Russ’ How to Suppress Women’s Writing: Chapter 5 - The Double Standard of Content 14:20 to 1:01:55 CULTURE CONSUMED: Alisa: Doctor Who, Hallmark Christmas movies Alex: The Addams Family, and The Addams Family Values; The Trouble with Women, Jacky Fleming; Rupetta, Nike Sulway; The Second Shelf, issue 1. Tansy: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power; Making It One more episode before we break for the summer!!! Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us! Become a Patron!

In which convention season and awards season are both upon us! WHAT DO WE CARE ABOUT THIS WEEK? Hugo Packet now available Rivqa & Mother of Invention at Strange Horizons If you're at Continuum come to our MOI book party, Sunday 10 June 2pm. Wiscon Killable Bodies in SF panel Wiscon's official statement. Coffee and Ink's response from the audience Nebulas! Who won them? Continuum Deep Dive: come and see Tansy talk about Roman celebrities! CULTURE CONSUMED: Alex: The Black God’s Drums, P Djeli Clark; Murderbot 3 (Rogue Protocol), Martha Wells; Saladin, John Man, and Saga Land, Richard Fidler and Kari Gislason; Obsidio, Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff Alisa: editing mysterious Twelfth Planet Press texts! stay tuned. Tansy: Deadpool essay here; Supernatural 13.10 Wayward Sisters; When the Letter Comes by Sara Fox - read it here; Book Smugglers on the Smart Bitches Trashy Books podcast Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.    

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.    

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.    

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.  

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.    

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.  

Author : Bogi Takács Narrator : Alethea Kontis Host : S.B. Divya Audio Producer : Adam Pracht Discuss on Forums Originally appeared in Defying Doomsday, edited by Tsana Dolichva and Holly Kench. Twelfth Planet Press, 2016. Given Sufficient Desperation By Bogi Takács An ice cream cone. A ceramic mug—brown with a single green stripe around the […] Source

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Author : Shane Halbach Narrator : Justin Thomas James Host : Dani Daly Audio Producer : Jeremy Carter Discuss on Forums Originally published in Oomph: A Little Super Goes a Long Way from Crossed Genres Publications, in October 2013, as well as Year’s Best YA Speculative Fiction 2013 published by Twelfth Planet Press. Random Play […] The post Cast of Wonders 279: Random Play All and the League of Awesome appeared first on Cast of Wonders.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts. This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.

Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts.   This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.   THIS WEEK: Victoria recounts the history of her happy childhood, her obsession with outdated ancient sciences, and how it all led towards her inevitable doom. She’s just so cheery like that.

Twelfth Planet Press Presents: Frankenstein Meets Mother of Invention in this regendered reading of a SFF classic. ===   Welcome to Frankentastic, a regendered reading of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Tansy Rayner Roberts.   This podcast was a stretch goal for the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for Mother of Invention, a fantastic anthology of science fiction, artificial intelligence, feminist robots and more. Mother of Invention will be coming from Twelfth Planet Press in 2018.   Meanwhile, make a cup of something hot, sit back in your futuristic space chair, and enjoy a classic read with a 21st century twist. Because, yes, the mother of science fiction was a teenage girl stuck in a lake house, inventing a genre to win a game against her trashy boyfriend and his terrible friends…   THIS WEEK: Roberta sets off on a dangerous arctic mission, and agonises over her lack of a best friend. Come on, Roberta, the universe isn’t going to send you a new BFF on a random floating iceberg… oh, wait.

In which we revisit a favourite old space station to see if it totally holds up, and get angry about superhero girlfriends. WHAT’S NEW ON THE INTERNET WFA Shortlist Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction Kickstarter Defying Doomsday Award - last call for nominations Let’s talk about Titania, brand new imprint of Twelfth Planet Press, coming soon. CULTURE CONSUMED: Alisa: Deep Space 9; The Wanderers, Meg Howrey; Voyager S1 Tansy: The Refrigerator Monologues, Catherynne Valente; Once Upon a Time S5, Erased. Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

photo credit: Paul Weimer In Which Alex & Tansy talk awards, culture & promote each other's projects. Continuum & the Ditmars. Locus Awards: so many winners. Mother of Invention: last day of Tansy's Kickstarter campaign! Last chance to pledge! Luminescent Threads pre-orders open now. The Book Riot review/interview is here! Avid Bookshop vs. Trolls How has Twelfth Planet Press has impacted on our listeners? Email galacticsuburbia@gmail.com to provide us with your anecdata! CULTURE CONSUMED Tansy: GLOW on Netflix Alex: InCryptid short stories, Seanan McGuire Tansy: One Con Glory, Sarah Kuhn Alex: The Girl who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two, Catherynne Valente Tansy: Not Your Sidekick, C.B. Lee; Star Crossed by Barbara Dee Alex: Agents of SHIELD Tansy: Valentine, Jodi McAlister (@JodiMcA & #PaceysCreek on Twitter) Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

In which we launch new projects and Discover a new/old love for Star Trek. Bet you didn't know how much we love Star Trek. What's new on the internet? Nebula Weekend means awards and other announcements! Tansy announces the impending Kickstarter for Mother of Invention: A speculative fiction anthology of diverse, challenging stories about gender & artificial intelligence. Alex reveals the cover of Luminescent Threads, the new book about Octavia Butler coming soon from Twelfth Planet Press. Continuum Preview! Check out the program, because we're all over it. The whole GalSub team will be at Melbourne for this year's Continuum -- if you're planning to be there, block off three hours for our Galactic Suburbia-and-Twelfth Planet Press extravaganza including a fundraising bake sale and a pre-launch party for Luminescent Threads. (It's like a baby shower but for a book, and you don't have to bring gifts) CULTURE CONSUMED: Alisa: Santa Clarita Diet S1; Anne with an E; Luminescent Threads edited by Alexandra Pierce and Mimi Mondal, Twin Peaks. Alex: Moana; Doctor Strange; Arrow; For the Love of Spock; Silent Invasion, James Bradley Tansy: Percy Jackson & the Lightning Thief; The Murderbot Diaries, Martha Wells; The Sarah Jane Adventures (check out Tansy's appearance on the Sarah Jane themed Splendid Chaps here) All of us: Star Trek Discovery Trailer! We have a lot of feels. Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

In which we are seven years old! Get yourself some delicious cake and settle down to our International Women's Day episode. What's New on the Internet? Post-mortem on the first Octavia Butler book club hosted by Twelfth Planet Press! We had such a great time talking about Wild Seed. Next up: Fledgling on April 2 2017. Aurealis Awards shortlist is out. Locus Recommended Reading List CULTURE CONSUMED: REPEAT THE TITLE OF YOUR CULTURE Alisa: Ken Liu; Women of Letters; The Arrival; Canberry; Courtney Milan - Trade Me & Hold Me. Alex: Because You’ll Never Meet Me, and Nowhere Near You, Leah Thomas; more Bujold; Cooked (Netflix, 4 parts) Tansy: Younger, Hidden Figures, shout out for Kickstarter campaign for new card game featuring the art of Tania Walker: The Lady & the Tiger. Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us! TELL US ABOUT YOUR CAKE! IF YOU ATE CAKE WITH THIS PODCAST, WE WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT.

‘Bride Price’ appeared in New Ceres #2 (Twelfth Planet Press) and The Bride Price (Ticonderoga Publicaitons) ‘Blood Drunk’ appeared in NFG Magazine. Cat Sparks is a multi-award winning author, editor and publisher with Agog! Press. Her latest book is The…

Seventh Day of the Seventh MoonBy Ken Liu“Tell me a story,” said Se. She had changed into her pajamas all by herself and snuggled under the blankets.Se’s big sister, Yuan, was just about to flip the switch next to the bedroom door. “How about you read a story by yourself? I have to … go see a friend.”“No, it’s not the same.” Se shook her head vigorously. “You have to tell me a story or I can’t sleep.”Yuan glanced at her phone. Every minute tonight was precious. Dad was out of town on business, and Mom was working late and wouldn’t be home till midnight. Yuan needed to be home before then, but if she could get her little sister to sleep quickly, she’d still have a couple of hours to see Jing on this, her last night in China.Full transcript appears after the cut.----more----[Intro music plays.]Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 15 for September 15th, 2015. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you.Our story today is "Seventh Day of the Seventh Moon" by Ken Liu.Ken Liu (http://kenliu.name) is an author and translator of speculative fiction, as well as a lawyer and programmer. A winner of the Nebula, Hugo, and World Fantasy Awards, he has been published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Asimov’s, Analog, Clarkesworld, Lightspeed, and Strange Horizons, among other places. He also translated the Hugo-winning novel, The Three-Body Problem, by Liu Cixin, which is the first translated novel to win that award.Ken’s debut novel, The Grace of Kings, the first in a silkpunk epic fantasy series, was published by Saga Press in April 2015. Saga will also publish a collection of his short stories, The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories, in March 2016. He lives with his family near Boston, Massachusetts.We also have a special guest reader this week, which is awesome.Our reader this week is S. Qiouyi Lu. You can visit their site at http://s.qiouyi.lu/ and follow them on Twitter at @sqiouyilu.Seventh Day of the Seventh MoonBy Ken Liu“Tell me a story,” said Se. She had changed into her pajamas all by herself and snuggled under the blankets.Se’s big sister, Yuan, was just about to flip the switch next to the bedroom door. “How about you read a story by yourself? I have to … go see a friend.”“No, it’s not the same.” Se shook her head vigorously. “You have to tell me a story or I can’t sleep.”Yuan glanced at her phone. Every minute tonight was precious. Dad was out of town on business, and Mom was working late and wouldn’t be home till midnight. Yuan needed to be home before then, but if she could get her little sister to sleep quickly, she’d still have a couple of hours to see Jing on this, her last night in China.“Come on, Yuan,” Se begged. “Please!”Yuan came back to the side of the bed and stroked Se’s forehead gently. She sighed. “All right.”She texted Jing: Late by half hour. Wait?The crystal cat charm, a gift from Jing, dangled from her phone. It twirled and glittered in the warm bedroom light as she waited impatiently for the response.Finally, the phone beeped. Of course. Won’t leave until we meet.“Tell the story about the Qixi Festival,” said Se, yawning. “That’s tonight, isn’t it?”“Yes, yes it is.”Long ago, a beautiful young woman, the granddaughter of the Emperor of Heaven, lived in the sky by the eastern shore of the Silver River—that’s the broad band of light you can sometimes see in the sky at night, when the air is clear.She was skilled at the loom, and so that’s why people called her—“You skipped the part where you describe her weaving!”“But you’ve heard this story a hundred times already. Can’t I just get it over with?”“You have to tell it right.”—as I had apparently neglected to mention: her works were displayed proudly by the Heavenly Court in the western sky at every sunset: glorious clouds of crimson, amethyst, periwinkle, and every shade in between. So people called her Zhinü, the Weaver Girl. And though she was the youngest of seven immortal sisters, we mortals addressed her by the honorific Big Sister Seven.But over time, Zhinü grew wan and thin. Her brows were always tightly knit into a frown, and she did not wash her face or comb out her hair. The sunset clouds she wove were not as lovely as before, and mortals began to complain.The Emperor of Heaven came to visit. “What ails you, my granddaughter?”“Haha, you do that voice so well. You sound just like Grandfather.”“I’m glad you approve. Now stop interrupting.”“Oh, Gonggong, I’m so lonely. Living all by myself in this hut, my only company are my loom—jiya, jiya, it squeaks all day long—and a few magpies.”The Emperor took pity on her and found her a good match. The young man tended to cows on the western shore of the Silver River, so people called him Niulang, the Cowherd. He was handsome and kind and full of funny stories, and Zhinü loved him, and he her, the moment they set eyes on each other.“See, I’m not such a bad matchmaker.” The Emperor of Heaven smiled as he stroked his beard. “Now I know you’re young, and you should have fun. But now that you have a companion, please don’t neglect your work.”Zhinü moved to the western shore of the Silver River to be with Niulang, and the two of them married. They had two boys, and there never was a happier family.“Oh, no, here comes the boring part. You can skip it if you want to.”“No way! This is the best part. You’ll understand when you’re older. Now pay attention.”Every morning, as Niulang got up before sunrise to take the cows to their favorite pasture, Zhinü could not bear the thought of being separated from him. So she would come along. She’d put the two babies in two baskets draped on each side of an old, gentle ox, and she would ride on the back of a pure white bull led by Niulang. They’d sing together, tell each other stories from before they met, and laugh at the jokes that only they understood.Zhinü’s loom sat unused back at the hut, gathering dust.Sunsets became ugly affairs. The few clouds that remained became tattered, wispy, colorless. The people laboring in the fields lost the beauty that had once lifted up their hearts at the end of a hard day, and their laments rose to the Heavenly Court.“My maritorious child,” said the Emperor of Heaven—“What does that word mean?”“It means loving your husband too much.”“How can you love someone too much?”“Good question. I don’t know either. Maybe the Emperor of Heaven didn’t have enough love in his heart to understand. Maybe he was too old.”—“I warned you about neglecting your duty. For your disobedience and neglect, you must now move back to the eastern shore of the Silver River and never see Niulang and your children again.”Zhinü begged for reprieve, but the Emperor’s word was as irreversible as the flow of the Silver River.At the Emperor’s decree, the Silver River was widened and deepened, and Zhinü forever parted from her husband. Today, you can see the star that is Zhinü on one side of the Silver River and the star that is Niulang on the other, their two sons two faint stars on each side of Niulang. They stare at each other across that unbridgeable gap, the longing and regret as endless as the flowing river.“Why did you stop?”“It’s nothing. My throat just felt itchy for a bit.”“Are you sad for Niulang and Zhinü?”“Maybe … a little bit. But it’s just a story.”But the magpies that once kept Zhinü company took pity on the lovers. Once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh moon by the lunar calendar, on Qixi, the day when Zhinü is at her highest position in the sky, all the magpies in the world fly up to the Silver River and make a bridge with their bodies so that the lovers can spend one night together.This is the day when all the young women in old China would pray to Big Sister Seven for love.Oh, I know you want to hear more about the bridge of magpies. You love this part. Well, I imagine it’s a lot of work for the birds. They probably have to go to magpie bridge-building school, and those who’re a bit slow have to go to cram school for extra study sessions …Yuan turned out the light and tiptoed out of her sister’s bedroom.On my way, she texted.She made sure the air conditioning was set comfortably low, locked the door of the apartment, and ran down the stairs. And then she was in the hot, humid evening air of Hefei in August.She biked through the streets, dodging an endless stream of cars beeping their horns. She liked the physicality of the ride, the way it made her body come alive, feel awake. She passed the sidewalks filled with people browsing past stores and kiosks filled with everything imaginable: discount electronics, toys, clothes, fancy European soups and cakes, mouth-watering sweet potatoes baked in tinfoil and fried, smelly tofu. The heat and the exertion stuck her shirt to her skin, and she had to wipe her forehead from time to time to keep the sweat out of her eyes.And then she was at the coffee shop, and Jing—slender, graceful in a plain white dress and a light jacket (for the air conditioning), a faint whiff of the floral perfume that always made Yuan dizzy—greeted Yuan with that bright smile that she always wore.As if this wasn’t the night the world ended.“Are you done packing?” Yuan asked.“Oh, there’s always more to pack.” Jing’s tone was light, breezy, careless. “But I don’t have to get to the airport ‘til nine in the morning. There’s plenty of time.”“You should dress in layers, with something long-sleeved on top,” said Yuan—mainly because she feared saying nothing. “It can get cold on the plane.”“Want to take a walk with me? The next time I walk around at night I’ll be in America. Maybe I’ll miss all this noise.”Yuan left her bike locked to the light post outside the coffee shop, and they strolled along the sidewalk like the rest of the crowd. They did not hold hands. In Shanghai, perhaps no one would have cared, but in Hefei, there would have been looks, and whispers, and maybe worse.Yuan imagined Jing walking about the campus of the American high school at night. Jing had shown her pictures of the red brick buildings and immaculate lawns. And the smiling boys and girls: foreigners. Yuan felt out of breath; her heart seemed unable to decide on a steady rhythm.“Look at that,” said Jing, pointing to the display window of a pastry shop. “They’re selling Qixi Lovers’ Cakes now. So overpriced. And you know some stupid girl is going to throw a fit if her boyfriend doesn’t buy it for her. I want to throw up.”“Not quite as bad as Valentine’s Day,” Yuan said. “I think the vendors are pretty restrained. Relatively speaking.”“That’s because people aren’t into Qixi any more. We Chinese always get more enthusiastic for Western imports, even holidays. It’s a national character weakness.”“I like Qixi,” Yuan said. She said it more emphatically than she meant to.“What, you want to set out an altar under a melon trellis, offer up a plate of fruits, pray to Big Sister Seven, and hope for a spider to weave a web over the offering by morning so you’ll get a nice husband in the future?”Yuan’s face grew hot. She stopped. “You don’t have to mock everything Chinese.”Jing cocked her head, a teasing smile in her eyes. “You suddenly getting all patriotic on me now?”“Your father has the money to pay for you to go to an American boarding school. That doesn’t make you better than everyone else.”“Oh, lay off that wounded tone. You’re hardly some migrant worker’s daughter.”They stared at each other, the neon lights from the nearby stores flickering over their faces. Yuan wanted to kiss Jing and scream at her at the same time. She had always liked Jing’s irreverence, the way she wanted to turn everything into a joke. She knew her anger had nothing to do with this conversation about Qixi at all.Jing turned and continued down the sidewalk. After a moment, Yuan followed.When Jing spoke again, her tone was calm, as if nothing had happened. “Remember the first time we went hiking together?”That had been one of the best days of Yuan’s life. They had skipped their cram school sessions and taken the bus to Emerald Lake, an artificial pond bordering several college campuses. Jing had showed Yuan how to set up her phone so that her mom couldn’t see the messages Jing sent her, and Yuan had showed Jing her baby pictures. They had bought a lamb chuanr from a street vendor and shared it as they walked along the lakeshore. Her heart had beaten faster with each bite of roasted meat off the skewer, thinking that her lips were touching where hers had touched. And then, as they strolled through one of the campuses, Jing had boldly taken her hand: it was a college, after all.And then that first kiss behind the willow tree, tasting the hot spices from the lamb kebab on Jing’s tongue, the calls of wild geese behind her somewhere…“I remember,” she said. Her voice still sounded wounded, and she didn’t care.“I wish we could go there again,” Jing said.The anger in Yuan disappeared, just like that. Jing always had such a way with her. Yuan felt like putty in her hands.“We can chat on QQ or Skype,” Yuan said. She hurried to catch up so that she was walking next to Jing. “And you’ll come back for visits. This isn’t like the old days. It will be okay. We can still be together.”They had wandered off the main thoroughfare onto a less busy side street. The streetlights on one side were out, and looking up they could see a few stars in the sky. Hefei wasn’t as polluted as some of the cities on the coast.“I’m going to be really busy,” Jing said. Her tone was calm, too calm.“We can text every day, every hour.”“It’s different over there. I’ll be living on my own in a dorm. I have to actually study if I want to go to a good college. My family is paying a lot to give me this.”“Americans don’t study that much.”“It’s not like watching American TV shows. There aren’t subtitles. I’ll meet lots of new people. I have to make a new life over there, new friends. I’ll need to be thinking, talking, breathing English all the time if I want to make it.”“I can text you in English,” Yuan said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”“You’re not listening,” Jing said. She stopped again and looked at Yuan.“What are you trying to say?” As soon as she asked the question, Yuan regretted it. It made her sound so weak, so clingy, like a girl from one of those Korean dramas.“I’m going away, Yuan. I told you this was going to happen last year, when we … started.”Yuan looked away so that Jing would not see her eyes. She pushed the image of Jing with someone else out of her mind. She cursed her eyes and told them to behave and stop embarrassing her.“It will be okay.” Jing’s tone was now comforting, gentle, and that made it worse. “We’ll both be okay.”Yuan said nothing because she knew she couldn’t control her voice. She licked her lips, tasting the salt from the sweat of her ride. She wanted to wipe her eyes so she could see clearly again, but she didn’t want to do it in front of Jing.“I want to make this night a happy memory,” Jing said, but her voice finally cracked. She struggled, but failed, to keep her calm mask on. “I’m trying to make this easier. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for those you love?”Yuan looked up, blinking her eyes hard. She looked for the Silver River, and she remembered that in English it was called the Milky Way—what a graceless and silly name. She looked for Zhinü and Niulang, and she vaguely remembered that in English they were called Vega and Altair, names as cold and meaningless to her as the stars.Just then, magpies seemed to come out of nowhere and gathered over their heads in a cloud of fluttering wings. While they looked up, stunned, the flock swept out of the night sky, descended over them like a giant spider web, and lifted them into the heavens.Riding on the wings of magpies, Yuan found, was not like riding a magical carpet.Not that she knew what riding a magical carpet felt like—but she was sure that it didn’t involve being constantly poked from below by a hundred—no, a thousand—little winged fists.The magpies would fall a bit below where they were and flap their wings rapidly in an upward burst until they collided with the girls’ bodies. The combined force of all the magpies would push them up until the birds lost their momentum and began to fall away, and then a new wave of upward-thrusting magpies would take their place. The girls resembled two ping-pong balls riding on the water spout from a hose pointing up.In the maelstrom of wings they found each other and clung together.“Are you all right?” They each asked at the same time.“What in the world is happening?” Jing asked, her words jumbled together from fear and excitement.“This is a dream,” Yuan said. “This must be a dream.”And then Jing began to laugh.“It can’t be a dream,” she said. “These magpies carrying us: they tickle!”And Yuan laughed too. It was so absurd, so impossible; yet it was happening.Some of the magpies began to sing, a complicated, trilling, lovely chorus. There were magpies of every description: some with white bellies, some with white beaks, some with iridescent, shimmering, blue wings. Yuan felt as if she and Jing were enclosed inside the beating heart of some giant, flying, alien musical instrument.Arms around each other, gingerly sitting side by side, they peeked out at the world below from between the darting wings of the magpies.They were floating in a dark sea. The lights of the city of Hefei spread out below them like a pulsing, receding jellyfish.“It’s getting cold,” said Yuan. She shivered as the wind whipped her hair around her face.“We’re really high up,” said Jing. She took off her summer jacket and draped it around Yuan’s shoulders. Yuan tucked her nose into the collar of the jacket and breathed in the lingering perfume. It warmed her heart even if the thin fabric did little against the chill.Then Yuan berated herself. Jing had broken up with her, and she didn’t need to look so needy, so pathetic. It was fine to cling to Jing in a moment of weakness, but now they were safe. Gently, she took her arm from around Jing and shrugged out of her arm as well. She lifted her face into the clear, frosty air, and tried to shift away from Jing, keeping some distance between them.“Reminds you of Su Shi’s poem, doesn’t it?” Jing whispered. Yuan nodded reluctantly. Jing was the literary one, and she always knew the pretty words, suitable for every occasion.A half moon, like a half-veiled smile, loomed pale white in the dark sky. It grew brighter and larger as they rose on the backs of the magpies.Jing began to sing the words of the Song Dynasty poem, set to a popular tune, and after a moment, Yuan joined her:When did the Moon first appear?I ask the heavens and lift my wine cup.I know not whether time passes the same wayIn the palace among the clouds. I’d like to ride up with the wind,But I’m afraid of the chill from being so highAmong the jade porticos and nephrite beams. We dance with our shadows.Are we even on earth any more?The silver light dapples the window,Illuminating my sleepless night.Do you hate us, Moon?Why are you always waxing just when we’re parting?Like a dancer and her shadow, the two girls swayed, each separately, to a harmony as young as themselves and as old as the land beneath.“So, it’s all true,” said Jing.The magpies had lifted them above the clouds and leveled off. As they glided over the cottony mists, they could see a celestial city of bread loaf-like buildings, punctuated by spiky towers here and there, gleaming in the late summer moonlight in the distance: blue as ice, green as jade, white like ivory. The styles of the buildings were neither Western nor Chinese, but something that transcended them all: heavenly, the Palace of Immortals.“I wonder if there really are immortals living there,” said Yuan. What she didn’t say out loud was her secret hope: she and Jing had been picked by the magpies for this trip to the heavens because the immortals thought they were as special a pair as Niulang and Zhinü—the thought was tinged with both excitement and sorrow.And then they were at the Silver River. It was broader than the Yangtze, almost like Taihu Lake, with the other shore barely visible on the horizon. The rushing torrent roared past like stampeding horses, and giant waves as tall as the apartment buildings in Hefei pounded against the shore.“Hey, don’t carry us over the water!” Jing shouted. But the magpies ignored her and continued to fly towards the river.“They’re building a bridge,” said Yuan. “It’s Qixi, remember?”Indeed, more flocks of magpies appeared. Along with the flock carrying the girls, they congregated like rivulets coalescing into a mighty river of wings. The magpies hovered over the water, with newcomers extending the flock’s reach towards the other shore. They were forming an arching bridge over the Silver River.“I have to take a picture of this,” said Yuan, and she took out her cell phone.The crystal cat charm dangling from the phone caught the light of the moon and dazzled. The magpies immediately surrounding Yuan trilled and dashed at it, knocking the phone out of her hand. And then it was a free for all as more of the magpies forgot about building the bridge and rushed after the shiny bauble. Even when charged with a magical mission, birds were still just birds.Or maybe even the birds have realized we’re not such a special pair after all, Yuan thought, and the charm is more interesting.She gazed after her phone anxiously. If Se woke up from a nightmare, she might try to call her. And if her mom got home before her, she might wonder where she was. She needed that phone back. She hoped the birds would bounce the phone closer to her so she could snatch it.Then those worries were pushed out of her mind as the magpies that had supported Yuan dropped off to join the chase after the charm, and no new magpies replaced them. Her weight overwhelmed the few magpies that remained on task, and she began to fall. She didn’t even have time to cry out.But then a strong hand caught her right wrist and arrested her descent. Yuan looked up into Jing’s face. She was lying down on the bridge of magpies, and she strained as she reached out and held onto Yuan with one hand while fumbling in her purse with the other.“Let go!” shouted Yuan. “You’ll fall, too!” Her world seemed to shrink down to her hands as they clasped around Jing’s hand, around her warm, pale skin. She willed herself to let go, but she could not.“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jing, panting.The magpies continued to fight each other for the shiny charm, causing Yuan’s phone to bob up and down over the flock like a stone skipping over water. They had stopped extending the living bridge over the water.Jing finally managed to free her own phone from her purse. She paid no attention as her purse almost tumbled over the side of the bridge, where it would have disappeared into the roiling waves below. By feel, she pressed the first button on the dial pad.Yuan’s phone came to life and began to vibrate and buzz. The shocked magpies backed off in a panic, and the phone stayed still in the air for a second before falling, faster and faster, and finally disappeared into the Silver River without a trace.Yuan felt her heart sink. That cat charm, the first gift Jing had ever given her, now gone forever.“Good thing I have you on speed dial,” Jing said.“How do we still have reception here?”“After all that, that’s what you are worried about?” Jing laughed, and after a moment, Yuan joined her.The magpies seemed to have awakened from a bad dream, and they rushed over and lifted Yuan up onto the bridge. Once the girls were safe, the magpies continued to extend their bridge to the other side of the Silver River, leaving the pair at the middle of the bridge, suspended over the endless water and mist.“We almost caused the magpies to fail to build the bridge,” Yuan said. “It would be so sad if Niulang and Zhinü don’t get to meet this year.”Jing nodded. “It’s almost midnight.” She saw the look on Yuan’s face. “Don’t worry about not being home. Nothing bad can happen on the night of Qixi.”“I thought you weren’t into Qixi.”“Well, maybe just a little bit.”They sat down on the bridge together, watching the moon rise over the Silver River. This time, Yuan did not let go of Jing’s hand.“She’s coming,” said Yuan. She jumped up and pointed down the bridge towards the eastern shore. Now that she had spent some time on the bridge of magpies, she was getting pretty good at keeping her footing over the fluttering wings.In the distance, through the mist that wafted over the bridge from time to time, they could see a small, solitary figure making its way towards them.“So is he,” said Jing. She pointed the other way. Through the mist they could see another tiny figure slowly creep towards them.The girls stood up and waited, side by side, looking first one way and then the other. Being in the presence of the annual reunion of this pair of legendary lovers was exciting, maybe even better than meeting TV stars.The two figures from the opposite ends of the bridge came close enough for Yuan and Jing to see them clearly.Out of the east, an old woman approached. Yuan thought she looked as old as, maybe even older than, her grandmother. Her back bent, she walked with a cane. But her wrinkled face glowed healthily with the exertion of having traveled all the way here. Wearing a Tang Dynasty dress, she looked splendid to Yuan. Her breath puffed out visibly in the cold air.Out of the west, an old man emerged from the mist: straight back, long legs, wiry arms swinging freely. His full head of silvery white hair matched the old woman’s, but his face was even more wrinkled than hers. As soon as he saw the old woman, his eyes lit up in a bright smile.“They’re not—” Jing started to say in a whisper.“—quite what we expected?” finished Yuan.“I guess I always pictured immortals as being … well, I guess there’s no reason to think they wouldn’t grow old.”A wispy tendril of sorrow brushed across Yuan’s heart. She tried to imagine Jing as an old woman, and the tenderness made her almost tear up again. She squeezed Jing’s hand, and Jing squeezed back, turning to smile at her.The old man and the old woman met in the middle of the bridge, a few paces away from where the girls stood. They nodded at Jing and Yuan politely and then turned their full attention to each other.“Glad to see you looking so well,” said Zhinü. “Da Lang told me that you were having some trouble with your back the last time he visited with his family. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it here this year.”“Da Lang always exaggerates,” said Niulang. “When he visits I don’t dare to sneeze or cough, lest he insist that I go to the moon to visit Chang’E for some Osmanthus herbs. This old bag of bones can’t really take any more medicine. I think he’s more upset than you or I that his brother didn’t want to be a doctor.”They laughed and chatted on, talking about children and friends.“Why don’t they kiss?” Jing whispered to Yuan.“That’s a Western thing,” Yuan whispered back. “Niulang and Zhinü are old school.”“I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve seen Internet posts arguing people in ancient China used to kiss—but anyway, they’re standing so far apart!”“It’s like they’re friends, not lovers.”“It seems that we have some curious guests,” said Zhinü as she turned around to look at the girls. She didn’t sound angry—more like amused.“We’re sorry,” said Yuan, feeling her face grow hot. “We didn’t mean to be rude.” She hesitated. It didn’t seem right at all to call this old woman “Big Sister Seven.” So she added, “Grandma Zhinü and Grandpa Niulang.”“We just thought,” Jing said, “that … um … you’d be more … passionate.”“You mean less laughing, and more tears and recitation of love poems,” said Niulang, a gentle smile in his eyes.“Yes,” said Jing. “No,” said Yuan, simultaneously.Zhinü and Niulang laughed out loud. Niulang said, “It’s okay. The magpies have been building this bridge for thousands of years, and they sometimes bring guests. We’re used to questions.”Zhinü looked from Yuan to Jing and back again. “You two are together?”“Yes,” said Jing. “No,” said Yuan, simultaneously. They looked at each other, embarrassed.“Now that sounds like a story,” said Zhinü.“We were together,” said Yuan.“But I’m leaving,” said Jing. “We’ll be parted by the Pacific Ocean.” And they told their story to Niulang and Zhinü. It seemed perfectly right to pour their hearts out to the legendary lovers.“I understand,” said Zhinü, nodding sympathetically. “Oh, do I understand.”At first I was inconsolable. I stood on the shore of the Silver River day after day, pining for a glance of my husband and children. I thought the pain in my heart would never go away. I refused to touch my loom. If my grandfather was angry, then let him find someone else to weave the sunsets. I was done.The first time we met over the bridge of magpies, Niulang and I could not stop crying the whole time. My children were growing up so fast, and I felt so guilty. So, when we had to part again, Niulang came up with a stratagem: he asked the magpies to retrieve two large rocks that were about the weight of my babies and carried them home in two baskets on the ends of a pole over his shoulder, the same way he had carried the boys onto the bridge. And everyone thought they had gone home with him. But unbeknownst to anyone else, I carried the boys home with me on my back.And after that, every year, as we met on the bridge, we passed the boys back and forth. They’d spend one year with me, one year with Niulang. They would not have their parents together, but they would have both of them.Each time we met, I told him again and again of the solitude of my hut, the desultory squeak of my loom. And he told me of how he took his herd to the same pastures that we had gone to as a family, to relive the happiness we shared. The grass had grown thin and bare from overgrazing, and his animals were just skin and bones.And then, one year, when the boys were a little older and could walk on their own, Niulang held me and told me that he didn’t want to see me sad any more.“We live a whole year for this one day,” he said. “We’re letting our lives pass us by. It’s not right that you should sit by your loom pining from morning ‘til evening. It’s not right that our sons should think our lives are lives of sorrow. It’s not right that we should come to believe that yearning for what we can’t have is what love is all about.”“What are you saying?” I asked. I was angry, and I didn’t know why. Was he saying that he no longer loved me? I had been faithful to him, but had he been to me?“We know we cannot be together,” he said. “We know that sometimes things happen to people that keeps them apart. But we have refused to look for new happiness. Are we sad because we’re in love? Or are we sad because we feel trapped by the idea of love?”I thought about what he said, and realized that he was right. I had become so used to the story about us, the idea of us living our whole lives for this once-a-year meeting, that I hadn’t really thought about what I wanted. I had become my own legend. Sometimes the stories we tell ourselves obscure our truths.“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said.“We’re beautiful when we seek to make ourselves happy,” I said.And so I went back to my loom and poured my love for Niulang into my weaving. I thought those were some of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever woven.And then I found that love was not a limited thing, but an endless fount. I found that I loved the laughter of my children, and the chatter of friends new and old. I found that I loved the fresh breeze that brought smells from far away. I found that other young men made my heart beat faster.And Niulang went and took his herd to new pastures, and he came up with new songs. Young women came and listened to him, and he found that conversation with them gladdened his heart.We told each other these things the next time we met over the bridge. I was glad for him and he for me. We had been clinging to each other as though we were afraid to drown, but in fact, we had been holding each other back from moving on.“And so we each went on and had other loves, joys as well as sorrows,” said Zhinü.“We still meet once a year,” said Niulang, “to catch up on each other’s lives. Old friends are hard to come by.” He and Zhinü looked at each other with affection. “They keep you honest.”“Are you disappointed?” asked Zhinü.Jing and Yuan looked at each other. “Yes,” they said together. Then they said “no,” also together.“Then, are you not in love anymore?” asked Yuan.“You ask that question because you think if we’re no longer in love, then that means the love we had was somehow not real.” Zhinü turned serious. “But the past does not get rewritten. Niulang was the first man I loved, and that would be true no matter how many times I fell in love after him.”“It’s time to go,” Niulang said. The magpies under them were getting restless. The eastern sky was brightening.“You were together, and you’re together now,” said Niulang to the girls. “Whatever comes, that remains a fact.”“You look lovely together, dears,” said Zhinü.Niulang and Zhinü embraced lightly and wished each other well. Then they turned and began to walk in opposite directions.“Look!” said Jing, and gripped Yuan’s hand.Where the old Niulang and Zhinü had been, there was now a pair of ghostly figures: a young man and a young woman. They embraced tightly, as if Yuan and Jing were not there at all.“They were such a handsome couple,” said Yuan.“They still are,” said Jing.And as the bridge of magpies broke up, carrying the girls down to earth, they looked back at the pair of ghost lovers dissolving gradually in the moonlight.Miraculously, Yuan found her bike where she’d left it.The sidewalks were still relatively empty. The first breakfast shops were just getting ready for the day, and the smell of warm soy milk and freshly fried youtiao filled the air.“Better rush home,” said Yuan. “Don’t miss your flight.”“And you need to go, too. Your mom will be worried sick!”Jing pulled her in, wrapping her arms around her. Yuan tried to pull back. “People will see.”“I don’t care,” Jing said. “I lied that day at Emerald Lake. I told you I had kissed other girls before. But you were the first. I want you to know that.”They held each other and cried, and some of the passers-by gave them curious looks, but no one stopped.“I’ll call you every day,” Jing said. “I’ll text you whenever I get a chance.”Yuan pulled back. “No. I don’t want you to think of it as a chore. Do it if you want to. And if you don’t, I’ll understand. Let whatever will happen, happen.”A quick kiss, and Yuan pushed Jing away. “Go, go!”She watched as Jing ran down the street to catch the bus. She watched as the bus pulled into the stream of traffic, a mighty river of steel like the Silver River, and disappeared around the corner.“I love you,” Yuan whispered. And no matter how the stream of time flowed on, that moment would be true forever.END“Seventh Day of the Seventh Moon” was originally published in Kaleidoscope, published by Twelfth Planet Press, edited by Alisa Krasnostein and Julia Rios in 2014.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 have another story for you on September 22nd.[Music plays out]

John E. O. Stevens, Fred Kiesche and Jeff Patterson decided to get away from the Dog Days of August in the northeast United States and amble down to Australia* for some winter weather. While there they met up with Alisa Krasnostein, wearer of many hats (Ph.D. candidate, publisher with Twelfth Planet Press, podcaster with Galactic Suburbia). They discuss education, the doctoral process, publishing, podcasting, and (through a lucky coincidence) get into an extended discussion of James Tiptree, Jr. and the upcoming 100th birthday tribute book. By the end of the episode everybody has spent money and changed their reading plans going forward. More Tiptree! Why aren’t we celebrating the anniversary with more events? *No Hoarsemen actually went to Australia. Host Fred Kiesche, John E.O. Stevens and Jeff Patterson with Alisa Krasnostein.

Champagne and Socks Episode 26: Packing dilemmasThe crowdfunding project I refer to is - Defying Doomsday.What did I say I would pack?- fingerless gloves project- hot air balloon quilt project- Twelfth Planet Press scarf- Rainbow bear blanketDeadlines tea cosy (for The Blackmail Blend prelaunch) Join my craft circle: Email: champagneandsocks@gmail.com Ravelry: girliejones and Champagne and Socks Craft Circle Group Twitter: @champagnesocks or @krasnostein www.champagneandsocks.com

With Swancon 40, the 2015 Australian National Science Fiction Convention, in full swing Jonathan sat down with convention guest of honour John Scalzi and Twelfth Planet Press editor/publisher Alisa Krasnostein to discuss science fiction, community, Robert Heinlein, having just finished new novel The End of All Things and more! As always, we'd like to thank John and Alisa for appearing on the podcast. John's next novel, The End of All Things, is out for preorder and you can support the Pozible campaign for Alisa's new project Defying Doomsday here.  We hope you enjoy the episode!

"Houdini’s Heart" by Thoraiya Dyer -- published in Apex Magazine issue 70, March 2015. Thoraiya Dyer is an award-winning Australian writer. Her short science fiction and fantasy stories have appeared in Clarkesworld, Apex, Analog, Nature and Cosmos, among others (for a full list, see www.thoraiyadyer.com ). Her collection of four original stories, Asymmetry, available from Twelfth Planet Press, was called "unsettling, poignant, marvellous" by Nancy Kress. A lapsed veterinarian, her other interests include bushwalking, archery, and travel. This Apex Magazine Podcast was performed and produced by Lisa Shininger. Music used with kind permission of Oh, Alchemy! Apex Magazine Podcast, Copyright Apex Publications.

The Unheard Voices of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror panel from Arisia. Catherine Lundoff moderated this panel, with K. Tempest Bradford (standing in for Nisi Shawl), Julia Rios, Trisha Wooldridge, Andrea Hairston, and Victor Raymond. Listening to this doesn't give you the visual cues that people in the room had, so a note up front: Nisi was in the audience, but wasn't up for sitting on the panel. There was an ongoing joke about Tempest being Nisi, and about Nisi being Nalo Hopkinson, who was not at the convention. Awards season!*Lambda finalists include lots of OA members like Nicola Griffith, Sacchi Green, Mary Ann Mohanraj, Alex Jeffers, Alaya Dawn Johnson, The editors and contributors to Ghosts in Gaslight, Monsters in Steam Gay City: Volume 5, Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold, Richard Bowes, Lee Thomas, and more. Full list here: http://www.lambdaliterary.org/features/news/03/06/26th-annual-lambda-literary-award-finalists-announced/*The Nebula nominee list is also out, and lots of OA types are there too, including Sofia Samatar, Nicola Griffith, Ellen Klages and Andy Duncan, Vylar Kaftan, Catherynne Valente, Christopher Barzak, Alaya Dawn Johnson, Sarah Pinsker, Rachel Swirsky, Karen Healey, and Nalo Hopkinson. Full nominee list here: http://www.sfwa.org/2014/02/2013-nebula-nominees-announced/The Galactic Suburbia Award and Honor List is out now, and the joint winners are N.K. Jemisin and Elise Matthesen. Full Honor List here: http://galactisuburbia.podbean.com/2014/03/23/episode-96-19-march-2014/*Carl Brandon Society is a group for fans and writers of color. They give out the Kindred and Parallax Awards for fiction by and/or about people of colors, and also administer scholarships for students of color to attend Clarion.*Broad Universe is a group for women who write and publish science fiction and fantasy. They have a website, a podcast, and many promotional and support networking opportunities for members, including organizing group readings and book sale tables at conventions. *WisCon is a feminist science fiction convention held each year at the end of May in Madison, Wisconsin. The Carl Brandon Society and Broad Universe both have strong presences there. *Con or Bust is an organization that raises money to send fans of color to conventions. The Carl Brandon Society administers the funds. *Gaylaxicon and Outlantacon are conventions specifically for the QUILTBAG SF fandom community. Gaylaxicon is a roving con (like WorldCon), and Outlantacon happens each year in May in Atlanta. This year's Gaylaxicon will be hosted by Outlantacon.Work by people on the panel:*Filter House is Nisi Shawl's Tiptree Award Winning short story collection (Tempest joked that her collection would be called Filter House 2).*Redwood and Wildfire is Andrea Hairston's Tiptree Award Winning novel (for which she had also just received a Carl Brandon Award on the day of this panel).*Silver Moon is Catherine Lundoff's novel about menopausal werewolves*Catherine writes a series about LGBT SFF for SF Signal.*Julia is an editor for Strange Horizons, which is always interested in publishing diverse voices.*Kaleidoscope is an anthology of diverse YA SF and Fantasy stories Julia is co-editing with Alisa Krasnostein, which is scheduled to launch in August of 2014.*In Other Words is an anthology of poetry and flash by writers of color Julia is co-editing with Saira Ali, which is scheduled to launch at WisCon in May, and which will benefit Con or Bust.Other things mentioned: *Lorraine Hansberry was an African American lesbian playwright, best known for Raisin in the Sun, but Andrea pointed out that she also wrote a lot of science fiction plays. *The SFWA Bulletin incited a lot of pushback in 2013. Here is a timeline: http://www.slhuang.com/blog/2013/07/02/a-timeline-of-the-2013-sfwa-controversies/. It has since changed editorial staff and has just put out the first of the new team's issues, which seems to be a lot more favorably received, as evidenced here: http://www.jasonsanford.com/jason/2014/03/the-new-sfwa-bulletin-is-blowing-my-mind.html.*"The Serial Killer's Astronaut Daughter" by Damien Angelica Walters was written partly in response to the SFWA bulletin's sexism. *A Stranger in Olondria by Sofia Samatar came up as an example of a novel by a person of color put out through an independent (not one of the big New York houses--Andrea argued for calling these sorts of publishers independent rather than small) publisher, Small Beer Press. Since the panel, A Stranger in Olondria has won the Crawford Award and been nominated for the Nebula. *Crossed Genres, Twelfth Planet Press, and Papaveria Press are independent presses that publish diverse voices.*Clarkesworld, Lightspeed, Strange Horizons, and Apex are magazines Tempest sees publishing diverse stories. Tor.com is also publishing more diverse stories now, like "The Water That Falls on You From Nowhere" by John Chu. *The Tiptree Award celebrates work that expands our notions of gender.*Dark Matter is an anthology exploring a century of SF by black writers. *Blood Children was an anthology put out by the Carl Brandon Society in 213 to benefit the Octavia Butler Scholarship, which sends students of color to Clarion. *Bending the Landscape, Kindred Spirits, and Worlds Apart were brought up as examples of QUILTBAG anthologies from more than just a few years back. All of these were mentioned as early examples, but the panel agreed we need more. *Daughters of Earth is a collection of stories by women from the early 1900s to 2000 with accompanying critical essays. This collection is edited by Justine Larbalestier. Andrea wrote a critical essay about an Octavia Butler story in this book. *The Cascadia Subduction Zone has a feature where an established writer recommends and reviews an older work that might be obscure. Andrea and Nisi have both done this. *Lethe Press publishes best gay SF stories each year in Wilde Stories, and best lesbian SF stories each year in Heiresses of Russ. Nisi and Julia are both in Heiresses of Russ 2013.*From the audience, Saira Ali recommends Goblin Fruit and Stone Telling as diverse poetry magazines, and Aliens: Recent Encounters (edited by Alex Dally MacFarlane) as a good anthology.

On this episode of The Writer and the Critic your hosts, Kirstyn McDermott and Ian Mond have decided to dispense with the idle gossip and instead launch straight into their dissection of the books at hand. First up there is Every Day by David Levithan, which Kirstyn has chosen, followed by Ian's recommendation, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud (beginning around 45:30). Here are the links for reviews, interviews and articles mentioned during the discussion: Every Day reviewed by Sara Polsky on Strange Horizons Publishers Weekly interview with Claire Messud "A Forum on Likeability" convened by the New Yorker "I Like Likeable Characters" by Jennifer Weiner in Slate "A Bee Inside a Violin Inside A Pear" by Susan Sheridan in Sydney Review of Books If you've skipped ahead to avoid spoilers, please check back in at 1:36:00 for some very brief final remarks. Kirstyn and Ian would also like to bring your attention to the current fundraising drive being run by Strange Horizons to continue their excellent work in publishing speculative fiction stories, reviews and commentary. Please consider a donation if you can, no matter how small. Every dollar counts! And finally, a small and friendly plug for an upcoming book you might find relevant to your interests. Trucksong is the debut novel by Andrew Macrae soon to be published by Twelfth Planet Press and is being touted as a "genre-bending work of literary biopunk [that] mixes the mad fun of Mad Max II with the idiosyncratic testimony of works like Peter Carey's True History of the Kelly Gang or Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting." It features rogue, bling-encrusted AI trucks roaming the post-apocalytic highways of Australia, people. What's not to love? Next month, Kirstyn will be travelling throughout the UK and so there will be a brief hiatus for The Writer and the Critic. Which means you all get an extra month to work your way through the two books up for discussion in November: Sister Mine by Nalo Hopskinson (chosen by Ian) and NOS4A2 by Joe Hill (Kirstyn's pick). Read ahead and join in the spoilerific fun!

In collaboration with Twelfth Planet Press and recorded live at the beautiful Embiggen Books in Melbourne, The Writer and the Critic is delighted to present a special podcast dedicated to the critically acclaimed Twelve Planets series of short story collections. Join host Ian Mond as he interviews Twelve Planet authors Deborah Biancotti, Narrelle M. Harris, Deborah Kalin, Margo Lanagan, Rosaleen Love, Kirstyn McDermott, Tansy Rayner Roberts, Lucy Sussex and Kaaron Warren, along with publisher Alisa Krasnostein. It's a fun, informal conversation which -- and this is how you know it's not an official Writer and Critic episode -- goes for less than 50 minutes! You're welcome. The Twelve Planets are twelve boutique collections by some of Australia's finest short story writers. Varied across genre and style, each collection will offer four short stories and a unique glimpse into worlds fashioned by some of our favourite storytellers. Each author has taken the brief of 4 stories and up to 40 000 words in their own direction. Some are quartet suites of linked stories. Others are tasters of the range and style of the writer. Each release will bring something unexpected to our subscriber's mailboxes.

In this episode of The Writer and the Critic, Ian Mond and Kirstyn McDermott speak briefly about listener feedback, in particular Cheryl Morgan's musings about spoilers and the lack thereof in this podcast. They summarily decide to lift the ban on spoilers to allow more open discussion of all aspects of the books they are reviewing, including ... gasp ... endings and plot twists! Ian promises not to put his hands over his hands and make annoying humming noises while doing so. *** SPOILER ALERT *** THIS PODCAST CONTAINS SPOILERS *** Ahem. Don't say you were never warned. They also talk about the forthcoming Twelve Planets from Twelfth Planet Press and why a series of collections featuring Australian female spec fic writers is far from being a silly gesture. (And it's not just because Kirstyn is writing one of those collections!) Still on the topic of gender, the soon-to-be controversial guidelines of a new horror anthology from Ticonderoga Press are thrown on the autopsy table, with much made of the request for stories with a "masculine tone". This month books up for discussion are The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi (recommended by Ian) and The City and The City by China Mieville (Kirstyn's choice), both joint winners of last year's Hugo Award for Best Novel. A review by Jonathan McCalmont by The Windup Girl is possibly badly paraphrased by Ian. For those wishing to avoid spoilers and skip ahead, discussion of The City and the City begins at 28:30, while The Windup Girl chat starts around 50:00. Check back in at the 1:19:45 mark for some brief final remarks and a preview of next month's podcast. We hope you enjoy the podcast! Next month, The Writer and the Critic travels into the world beyond Kirstyn's dining room to feature a special guest: Melbourne writer of all things dark and deliciously nasty, Felicity Dowker. Yes, that's right, a travelling podcast. Hey, it's a niche and we're claiming it. Felicity has chosen Death Most Definite by Trent Jamieson for Ian and Kirstyn to read. Ian's recommended book for March is Last Days by Brian Evenson, while Kirstyn has picked White Cat by Holly Black. And don't forget, The Writer and the Critic has now adopted more of a book club approach to its discussion and will assume its listeners have either read the books in question or don't care if they find out that the protagonist dies in a horrible rice threshing machine accident on the second to last page. There will almost certainly be spoilers, so you are encouraged to read the chosen titles ahead of time. It'll be much more fun that way and Ian and Kirstyn won't get near as many death threats!