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phew!
Much of my energy the past few months has gone into writing an essay on time-travel fiction for a scholarly book Keith Brooke is editing for publication by Palgrave Macmillan next Fall: The Sub-genres of Science Fiction: Strange Divisions and Alien Territories. Since I'm no academic, whenever I do something like this there's definite anxiety as I wait to hear the judgment of its adequacy . . . or, as I usually convince myself during the waiting period, of its many and profound inadequacies. This was especially so in this instance since Keith has otherwise assembled a very distinguished bunch of contributors.
Here, although the running order may well change, is the contents list:
Foreword - Michael Swanwick
Hard Science Fiction - Gary Gibson
Space Opera - Alastair Reynolds
Alternative History - Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Topian Science Fiction - Keith Brooke.
Aliens - Justina Robson
Planetary Romance - Catherine Asaro and Kate Dolan
After the Apocalypse - James Lovegrove
Religion - Adam Roberts
Time Travel - John Grant
Cyberpunk and the Human-Machine Interface - James Patrick Kelly
Special Powers - Paul Di Filippo
Post-Human - Tony Ballantyne
Afterword: Picking Up the Pieces - Keith Brooke
My own chapter proved to be a monster. The first draft was nearly 15,000 words long -- somewhat over the target figure of 5000. After much painful amputation, I got it down to 11,000 words and asked Keith for advice. With the help of his suggestions, I finally submitted at just over 8000 words . . . and then the waiting began.
Well, the waiting's over, and: Phew! My piece apparently passes the mustard. Er, cuts muster. Something like that.
And now commences another -- but this time much more pleasant -- period of waiting: waiting to read the other essays in the book, to which I'm very much looking forward!
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Hm. I'm not sure "McCormack" is as easily rhymable as "Grant". On the other hand . . .
"The sea is not full," remarked Una.
"There is room for at least one more schooner,
Plus luxury yachts,
And some floating nite spachts --
I.e., cruise ships complete with a crooner."
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"Into verse does not eas'ly decant.
It takes a full story
To capture life's glory.
The limerick form is too scant."
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Excellent! A keeper!
For requiems, once they are started,
Cannot be just lightly departed:
To sneak out the door
Would cause rage and furor
As if at a funeral one'd farted.
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As the site moves on, I offer:
"What's the use?" sighed the woebegone pair
(That's McCormack and Grant - should you care!).
"Oh, the things one must do
To earn one's review!
Fart gags and doggerel. Unfair!"
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Again fine stuff. Perhaps we should ask the Spintinglers to review these instead? A veritable "Leaves of Grass" de nos jours, I can already hear them say. Meanwhile . . .
This ongoing procrastination
makes t'pub seem the best destination.
The sole cause for brio
's the pair is a trio --
for McK's in the same situation.
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A veritable "Leaves of Grass" de nos jours, I can already hear them say.
Funny, I can hear that too...
Right. Nearly 4pm here. Must get back to work!
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We're now down to a duo: they've posted a review of McKinty's story.
Between this and missing out on the Nobel Literature Prize yet again, it's not been the best of weeks.
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You're right, obviously. And it's cheering to think that his hasn't been reviewed there either.
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I bet he's glad he's in such good company.
I agree. This could be the making of him.