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The Future of Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing

"...authors create and distribute their work, and readers, individually and collectively, including fans as well as editors and peers, review, comment, rank, and tag, everything."
-- from Social Publishing

Last Flight of the Admiral Stalkforth 2

The earth was dark-brown, almost black, and smooth as a tightly drawn canvas. Narrow furrows were etched into the ground, forming giant looping spirals. Wooden buildings several stories high circled the area. Though they were built on stilts, they nevertheless curved upwards into top-heavy bungalows. Elaborate scrollwork decorated the facades, the roofs were thatched with light-green filaments, and brightly colored banners streamed from randomly protruding nodules on each.

Last Flight of the Admiral Stalkforth 1

An idle wind blew across the lake. A giant infernal sun gazed overhead through a gap in the tree canopy, tracing the roving swells in metallic red. On the banks sat a lone man watching the ebb and flow of all around him. The water, the wide leaves of the trees, the grass and the reeds all moved to the same unsteady meter. In the distance he thought he heard the musical plucking of strings, but he couldn’t be sure.

Suggestion box!

Hello everyone.

It *has* been a little quiet around here lately, hasn't it? So I'm running with Sim's idea of putting up a post to ask any of you if you have ideas for freshening up the site.

Paul and I have talked over some ideas, but if there's something you would like to see, and it's something we can do, we'll be happy to give it a try.


sim's picture

Arecibo Gold


STONED CARL. Fortyish brainy-looking academic in turtleneck and sport coat with elbow patches.

SCENE. STONED CARL is center stage, perhaps behind podium or lectern. LIGHTS UP on STONED CARL.

STONED CARL: (holding up a joint) If you want to make a marihuana cigarette from scratch, (beat) you must first create the universe.

sim's picture

Time to start writing!

I was reading slashdot (I know, I know) and came upon an Oort-Cloud reference. It put me in a dander!

Here's the URL:

I feel bad. Sniffle, sniffle.

But it makes me wanna write to prove this fellow wrong.

4 Danger Signs To Search For, Before Sending Off Your Novel

This is a good post about writing that I found on io9.

The Adventures of Guy-Shi

(The Rap on what this is all about is at the end of the post.)

Eighth Adventure

The batshit crazy part is that you have to believe in magic swords. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Call me Guy. Guy–Shi, if you want to be more formal. It’s what I am, and it’s what I do. I’m going to try to tell you the story, but sometimes the story might be telling me…

For purposes of this discussion I must posit the existence of the multiverse. N universes, where n is very large, perhaps even infinite. The problem is, this multiverse is unstable. Very unstable. So what to do?

Rain Washes Away the Blood 1

The small TV rumbled quietly, going unheard over the quiet rumble of water pouring from the shower in the cubicle of a bathroom. A young reporter was finishing up a story about a "shocking murder in Portland" which had been linked to a series of unsolved crimes that were believed to be the work of a serial killer.

metaphorical_cowboy's picture

Door script

Location: Small windowless concrete room with barrel with insignia in corner.

Camera: Pointed at door. Room is dark, but light from outside room is showing through.
Sounds: People running. People breathing hard. Door knobs being checked.

Scene: two men in military outfits check door knob. Door swings open. Lights turn on. Both men realize room is small and leads no where. They’re about to check other rooms when groans and moans are heard.

Man #1: “Shit”

sim's picture

Altitude, Part 4

Captain Ray waved the children back to their seats. "Strap yourselves in, we're going to reenter." They floated to the front seats and bound themselves into the acceleration couches.

The spaceman looked over to the kids. "This will be a little rough." He turned the ship. They had been pointing nose down. Now the rocket's tail pointed in the vector they'd been travelling. The spaceman fired up the drive torches. It felt like a giant hand was pushing them into their couches. Cord grunted with surprise.

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