I imagine this will be pleasing to the large majority of you.
And remember, if you are in or near the Dayton area: Tonight! Books & Company at the Greene. 7pm. Be there! Because I will be, and I don’t want to be alone.
I imagine this will be pleasing to the large majority of you.
And remember, if you are in or near the Dayton area: Tonight! Books & Company at the Greene. 7pm. Be there! Because I will be, and I don’t want to be alone.
First: Look, the last stack of new books/ARCs of August, and there’s some very fine work in here. Tell me which things trip your trigger in the comments.
Second: A reminder that tomorrow, September 1st, I will be at Books & Co in Dayton (the The Greene Shopping Center) for a tour stop. 7pm! Come on by and see me actually rested for an event for once! And Columbus, remember I’ll be visiting you at the OSU Bookstore on the 3rd; more details on that to come.
Musician Marian Call, who is currently Kickstarting her upcoming album, has written a long piece on her blog about what it takes to Kickstart a project, and — critically — throws in numbers and figures to back up her thoughts and comments. The result is a genuinely super-useful piece that should be required reading for anyone thinking of crowdfunding a project, no matter the size. Marian is very smart and very on point. Go learn from her.
On a personal note, Marian confirms that the amount of work involved in successfully pulling of a Kickstarter-like crowdfunding project is immense, which is a primary reason I have to date avoided doing anything like it. I can barely get it together to put on pants in the morning. To deal with the sustained effort of everything a successful Kickstarter project entails? Well, damn. I’d curl up in a ball and cry. There’s a reason I’m happy to be working with a publisher.
Also, did I mention that Marian’s most recent Kickstarter is still in play with just under two days to go from the posting of this entry? She’s a pretty awesome singer and songwriter. Maybe you should get in on this action, is what I’m saying. I have.
I said I would post the audiobook version today, but we got to our stretch goal of $10,000 so fast I posted it over the weekend to thank people. So for those of you who don’t loiter on the Internet during the weekends, the complete audio, including the downloadable version, is here. Go get it!
I’m also super-pleased to say that as of 7:45 this morning, we raised $10,987.59 for Con or Bust, which funds conventions memberships for people of color. That’s a lot of convention memberships, and I’m really proud that of that accomplishment.
(Also, for those worried about it, an update on Con or Bust’s tax-deduction status; the short version is that it’s pretty likely you’ll be able to take that charitable deduction come tax time. So yay!)
My thanks to Alexandra Erin, who (as Theo Pratt) wrote something that it was a joy to narrate, and to Kate Nepveu, who as the administrator of Con or Bust kept track of incoming donations. I had the easy part; I just had to speak into a microphone. They did all the work.
And thank you, if you were one of the folks who donated to Con or Bust. It’s good to do good. And also, it’s not too late — you can still donate if you like.
In the various recent kerfuffles surrounding science fiction and its awards, there have been a couple of people (and their spouses, declaiming about their beloved) who have been slapping down Mensa cards as proof that they (or their spouse) are smart. Let me just say this about that:
Oh, my sweet summer children. Just don’t.
If you want to be in Mensa, that’s fine. Everyone needs hobbies and associations, and if this is the direction you want to go with yours, then you do you. Not my flavor, but then, lots of hobbies and associations aren’t my flavor.
1. Literally no one outside of Mensa gives a shit about your Mensa card. No one is impressed that you belong to an organization that has among its membership people who believe that because they can ace a test, they are therefore broadly intellectually superior to everyone else.
2. Your Mensa membership does not imply or suggest that you are the smartest person in the room. Leaving aside the point that the intelligence that Mensa values is a narrow and specialized sort, a large number of people who can join Mensa, don’t, for various reasons, including the idea that belonging to a group that glories in its supposed intellectual superiority is more than vaguely obnoxious.
3. Your need to bring up the fact you have a Mensa card suggests nothing other than it’s really really really important to you for people to know you’re smart, and that you believe external accreditation of this supposed top-tier intelligence is more persuasive than, say, the establishment of your intelligence through your actions, demeanor, or personality. Which is to say: It shows you’re insecure.
4. Your Mensa card does not mean you know how to argue. Your Mensa card does not mean you do not make errors or lapses in judgment. Your Mensa card is not a “get out of jail free” card when someone pokes holes in your thesis. Your Mensa card does not mean that you can’t be racist or sexist or otherwise bigoted. You may not say “I have a Mensa card, therefore my logic is irrefutable.” Your Mensa card will not save you from Dunning-Kruger syndrome, and if you think it will, then you are exactly who the Dunning-Kruger syndrome was meant to describe. You Mensa card will not keep you from being called out for acting stupidly, or doing stupid things.
5. Your Mensa card does not immunize you from being a complete, raging asshole.
In short, it’s not actually smart to flash your Mensa card, and if you were smart, you’d know not to do it. If you have to resort to waving your Mensa card around to establish your intelligence, you’re signaling that you have no other way to do it. And you don’t have to be a genius to know what that actually means about you.
Quick thoughts on touring and etc.
* First, here’s a video of me and Tad Williams doing our thing at the stop at Kepler’s, in Menlo Park. This was two days after the Hugos, and if you’re curious to hear my thoughts on that event, they start at at 28:42. But most of it is about writing and kids and not being a goth in high school, and other such things. It’s atypical of most of my tour stops, because I don’t do a reading, but it was a lot of fun, and I think you’ll enjoy it. It was recorded by Deborah Beale, Tad’s wife. The first two minutes are a little blurry but then it focuses up (visually, I mean. I and Tad are all over the place).
Also, if you get a chance to have a conversation with Tad Williams, do it. He’s a lovely guy and a great conversationalist.
* I technically have two stops left in my tour — Dayton and Columbus — but inasmuch as they’re drivable and I’ll be back at home when I’m done with them, my brain thinks of them as “one-offs” and that the tour ended on Thursday, when Krissy picked me up from the airport. I’ve spent most of the last several days sleeping (although I did record an audiobook, but that was easy and fun and I did each chapter in a single take in any event).
This was my sixth book tour and by now it’s not surprising to me how wiped out I am at the end of it. Tours are draining experiences — you travel in the morning, arrive in the early afternoon, do interviews or other work until the event, do an event which lasts three hours from the arrival to the bookstore until the last book is signed, go to your hotel, order room service, go to sleep and repeat another sixteen or seventeen times. It’s (mostly) fun and it’s great to see fans and friends on the road. But it’s a lot of work, and it’s also performance; I have to be “up” whenever I see people. So: Draining. Enjoyable and worth doing, but draining.
* I used to say I wasn’t sure how musicians do it because they’re constantly touring, but then it occurred to me that at this point in my career I’m on the road almost as much as a touring musician. This last tour was three weeks long, but I also did another three week stint last April, when I was in Australia for two weeks followed by a week in Los Angeles, doing business meetings, interviews and the LA Times Festival of Books. This October I’m doing events three weekends out of the month (The Iowa Book Festival, Nerdcon:Stories, and a workshop event in Tacoma). So, at this point, I think I get it just a little bit.
The one difference between tour as a writer and touring as a musician, I suspect, is that musicians always understood touring and appearances are part of the gig. For writers, I don’t know if it’s always in their worldview. And true enough, not every writer does as much of this stuff as I do (and not every writer should; super-introverts, for example, are not the people to put on tour). But at this point I make sure that when I speak to writers coming up, I let them know that touring and appearances are part of the gig, and that the should be prepared for it — or if the idea fills them with horror, that they should find a publicity/marketing angle that works for them and do that instead.
* One of the things I do like about touring is that it gives me a chance to “workshop” new material — in the case of this last tour, I read from “The Dispatcher,” which is the upcoming novella I wrote for Audible. Reading the first chapter was useful for a few reasons. One, it got people excited for upcoming work, which is never a bad thing. Two, I got to sense from an audience what was working about it and what wasn’t, which is important because this is meant to be an audiobook, and the listening experience is key.
Third, in the particular chapter I read, I made a few errors of fact and people in the audience would come up to me or email and say “Uh, the reading was great, but there’s this one thing…” And then I would fix it before the next stop. So, yes! Reading new stuff is useful.
* Whilst on tour I spent two days at Sasquan, this year’s Worldcon, and aside from the fires in Washington turning the sky a pale hickory-smoked gray, it was a very nice time. My panels went very well, my reading was very nicely attended, and I got to see a bunch of friends and members of my tribe who I don’t always get to see anywhere else but the Worldcon.
I also went to the Hugo ceremony, which I thought was generally very well done considering the potential for a lot of drama. And, well. There was a lot of drama, but it didn’t come from the ceremony itself. The ceremony was upbeat and inclusive, thanks to the work done by David Gerrold and Tananarive Due as the cohosts. I’ll note that David told me I’d be the punchline to a number of jokes at the ceremony, and I told him I would be delighted to be so. It’s always fun to get namechecked at the Hugos.
Finally, I had the good fortune to attend George RR Martin’s post-Hugo party, which was doubtless one of the best parties I have been to in my life. George gave away “Alfie” awards to certain people he thought deserved them in the wake of the Puppy nonsense, including to Annie Bellet and Marko Kloos, who had removed themselves from the ballot this year for their own reasons. It was a big-hearted gesture on the part of George, who continues to show himself to be a person of class and kindness. I genuinely admire him.
* So what will I do now? Well, first I will do the final two events of the tour (Dayton on Tuesday and Columbus on Thursday), make some edits to “The Dispatcher” and do some work on the new novel — the first on the new contract — which will be a big ol’ space opera-y thing that I think you’ll enjoy. But mostly, continue to catch up on sleep. Yes, sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep.
Quick recap: John Scalzi Is Not A Very Popular Author And I Myself Am Quite Popular is a parody of an ebook by an obnoxious bigot who is obsessed with me, and I said (full details here) that if people raised $2,500 for Con or Bust, which funds science fiction convention memberships for people of color, I’d create an audiobook version of it. That happened. Then I said if we hit a stretch goal of $10,000, I’d also commission a song about me not being very popular. And that just happened! Whoo-hoo!
It will take me a bit to organize the song (update, 9/1/15: The song is commissioned! It’ll be a few weeks before it’s ready! Patience! It’ll be worth it!), but because you lovely people got us to an amazing $10,000 for Con or Bust in under 48 hours, I decided not to make you wait any longer for the audiobook. Here it is, with my love and appreciation.
First, the complete book, in one 40 minute chunk!
And now, the individual chapters:
Chapter 1: How it Begins
Chapter 2: John Scalzi’s Blog is Not That Interesting and No One Reads It
Chapter 3: John Scalzi Does Not Understand Satire as Well as I Understand Satire
(Note: This chapter contains reference to a piece I wrote about rape, and despite its humorous nature as parody, may be triggery for some folks.)
Chapter 5: John Scalzi Did Not Get Me Thrown out of the SFWA
Chapter 5: John Scalzi’s Deal With Tor is Not a Very Good Deal
Chapter 5: John Scalzi is Not a Very Popular Author
(Update, 9:09pm: Kate Nepveu of Con or Bust has created an Audible-like audiobook file of the complete book, which you may find here.)
And if you did enjoy this, and have not already done so, may I suggest you donate to Con or Bust, and help people of color attend science fiction conventions? That would be awesome. Thank you! And song to come!
(Warning: Hugo neepery, possibly the last of the season. Avoid if you don’t care.)
It’s late, and I’m experiencing a bit of insomnia, so, hello, now that I’m home, here are some disjointed thoughts about the Hugo results and the post-award freakout about them that the Puppies appear to be having at the moment.
1. What did the 2015 Hugos teach us? Well, basically that slates are the fucking kiss of death, Hugo-wise. If you create them, it kills your credibility with the voters; if you’re on them, it kills your chances of winning — indeed, it kills your chances of winding up above “No Award,” unless you happen to be a movie that grossed $775 million worldwide. The moral of the story really is: Slates! Not even once!
Have the various Puppies learned this very simple and obvious lesson? Apparently not, since the response from those quarters appears to be “We just didn’t slate hard enough! We’ll be back next year and we’ll slate even harder!” Which, well, you know. Bless their hearts.
The Puppies’ problem is that, inasmuch as everyone now knows being on a slate is a hard and fast ride south of the “No Award” line, it will be very difficult for them to find anyone who is genuinely award-caliber who would want to be on their future slates. My understanding is the Sad Puppies, at least, plan to solve this problem by not actually alerting their future sub-No Award victims that they’re going to be on the slate before the slate is announced. Given what we know of the results of slating at this point, if they go ahead and follow through on this plan, it’ll be a monumental asshole move on their part.
2. The Puppies continue to appear genuinely flummoxed that the Hugo voters rejected everything and everyone they slated (except Guardians of the Galaxy, which as previously noted they can hardly take credit for), arguing on one memorable occasion that if The Three Body Problem, the eventual best novel Hugo winner, had been on the slates, it would have finished below “No Award,” thus proving the bankruptcy of voting for “No Award” in the first place.
This is a bit like saying that if the person who didn’t get on the bus you then proceeded to drive off a cliff were on the bus, they would probably be dead now — it’s trivially true, but misses the point that you drove the bus off the cliff. The Puppies knew that slating was anathema to the large mass of Hugo voters — they had a dry run the year before, proffering a limited slate with Sad Puppies 2, and saw their nominees largely finish in fifth place or below “No Award” — but they did it anyway and now want to be shocked, shocked that their antics predictably resulted in their nominees doing very poorly indeed.
The going line in those quarters at the moment is that the blanket “No Award” just proves the Hugo Awards are corrupt. Well, no, that’s stupid. What the blanket “No Award” judgment shows is that the large mass of Hugo voters don’t like people trying to game the system for their own reasons that are largely independent of actual quality of work. In the Sad Puppy case the reasons were to vent anger and frustration at having not been given awards before, and for Brad Torgersen to try to boost his own profile as a tastemaker by nominating his pals (with a few human shields thrown in). In the Rabid Puppy case it was because Vox Day is an asshole who likes being an asshole to other people. And in both cases there was a thin candy shell of “Fuck the SJWs” surrounding the whole affair.
The shorter version of the above: You can’t game the system and then complain that people counteracting your gaming of the system goes to show the system is gamed. Or you can, but no one is obliged to take you seriously when you do.
3. And did the Puppy nominees deserve better than to be consistently slated below “No Award”? Surely some of them did, in my opinion. I myself put several slated nominees above “No Award” because, consistent with my stated philosophy on these things, I thought they were deserving nominees and I didn’t want to penalize them simply because they were (largely) being used as unwilling pawns by jerks. But as I’ve also said elsewhere, voting against all the slated nominees was a perfectly valid action, if you believe slating is in itself inherently inimical to the Hugo awarding process. It turns out a lot of people decided that was a thing they needed to do.
And yes, that sucked for a number of nominees who got put on the slates either unawares or not fully briefed on the heavily-politicized aspects of the slate (not to mention the fact that they would also in many cases be unwittingly associated with the bigoted shitheel who used the Sad Puppy slate like a parasitic wasp uses the hollowed-out husk of a tarantula). They deserved better than to be used, and I hope many of them realize that their ranking below “No Award” was not a reflection on them personally, but was instead a referendum on the mechanism of slating for the award. Many of them deserved to be Hugo nominees for their work, and I suspect they will be again, although hopefully not on a slate.
(But then there were the ones who didn’t deserve to be Hugo nominees, in my opinion, and/or the ones who were just assholes regarding the awards, the people voting for them and the entire process. With regard to these folks, fuck ’em. I didn’t have a problem in the slightest ranking them below “No Award,” and I won’t have a problem doing it again, should they ever slime their way back onto the ballot.)
4. With the exception of Vox Day and a few of his pals, who were just straight-up assholes, I feel a small bit of pity for the Puppies. I don’t think they actually knew what they wanted out of this whole mess, and I still don’t think they know. Yes, they can vomit up astounding amounts of wounded verbiage about SJWs and conspiracies and blue collar cracking good tales with their nuggety nugget-ness or whatever. But their love-hate act with the Hugos and everyone one else voting on them was just incoherent. It didn’t help that pretty much every argument they offered for their slating action was shoddily-constructed and easily disprovable, based largely on conspiracy thinking or assertions that could have their feet kicked out from under them by a trip to Wikipedia. Which didn’t keep them from offering them over and over. Epistemic closure was not the Puppies’ friend.
In the end, the meat of the Sad Puppy argument was “Brad wants to nominate his friends so let’s fix that and we do mean fix,” and the meat of the Rabid Puppy argument was “Ha ha ha fuck you and also buy Castalia House product oh God I’m still a failure in life aren’t I.” These arguments were painfully obvious, and not easily swept aside by the interrelated Puppy camps’ poor arguments or resentment-laden rhetoric. This is why, aside from the fundamental problems with slating, which were considerable, very few people outside the Puppy camps were persuaded by them.
5. And also, you know. The Puppies acted like jerks the whole way through, which is another, uh, questionable tactic. Look: even if the Puppies weren’t largely slating friends and/or work from their own publishing houses, and then trying to justify those choices by creating a conspiracy of liberals arrayed against them, the fact that largely every bit of rhetoric coming out of their quarters could best be described as “high screech attack” was not going to make them friends with the general Hugo voting electorate, and isn’t making them friends in the aftermath, either.
What’s the deal? Vox Day is a grasping sociopath, in my opinion, so that’s that. But the rest of them? It’s been suggested that in the case of Brad Torgersen, at least, this is an intentional career move, being unpleasant to “liberals” (which in this case seems to mean anyone outside the Puppy camp) to help lock in a conservative audience. And, I guess, maybe? But I know a lot of conservatives — no, really — and as a class they have no higher percentage of jerk among them than does any other political stripe. Catering to the conservative jerk audience seems like aiming fairly low. And in any event, I don’t see the Puppy phenomenon as really being about conservatism so much as being about other things, with conservatism (or reactionary nonsense) thrown on top to mask and/or justify the actions.
But other people were jerks to the Puppies! you might say. Well yes, many people were. But those people were not attempting to argue for the validity of slating or of specific nominees to a vast number of voters. Leaving aside the schoolyard logic of “they were mean too,” it’s not actually smart, when you are trying to convince people to take your slate and nominees seriously, to shit all over them and the awards they care about, for months on end. They should try not doing that. That’s, like, basic marketing.
6. That said, I think it’s too late to change the Puppy brand. This was the third year of the campaign and the second year that it incorporated Vox Day, bigot — and the year that Vox Day actually ended up controlling the Puppy brand and using it for his own goals, much to the unconvincing, backtracking “he’s not with us” surprise of the Sads. Now when the general population thinks of “Puppies” in the context of the Hugos, sad or rabid, they’re thinking of bigoted self-promoters pushing questionable work. Is that fair? It’s totally fair to some of the Puppies, not to others, and far less fair to the people who might be put on the slates in future years without their knowledge or against their will.
And again: Who on Earth at this point would choose to be on a Hugo slate? Either people who crave a nomination by any means necessary, which is tantamount to admitting one cannot get on the ballot any other way, or people who want to get on the slate only to block other people from being on the slate. In other words: The talentless and the assholes. Anyone who wants an actual shot at the award will do their damnedest to stay off a slate — any slate, but especially a Puppy slate, which now has a certain whiff of anger, resentment and most of all failure about it.
7. Will the primary Puppies suffer for their participation in slating? In terms of selling books, I suspect not. The vast majority of book readers neither know nor care about the inside pool of the Hugo Awards and apparently contrary to some beliefs, no author has sole claim over their readers. The overlap in readership between me and Larry Correia, for example, is probably not trivial, and it would be silly for either of us to claim those readers as “ours” exclusively, or to expect them to know or care about any of this. Likewise the very silly attempt to paint Baen and Tor as opposing camps, which again most readers don’t know about and wouldn’t care about even if they did (also, the recent attempt by the Puppies to claim Dragon*Con as their home turf seems, well, ambitious). Will Brad and Larry lose readers who might otherwise have given them a shot? Sure. And so will I, and as will a few other writers too. We’ll also gain some readers. Overall it’ll be wash.
Reputations among fandom? Well, it’s pretty clear that the fandom that votes for Hugos, at least, is not pleased with the Puppies. But in this matter the Puppies are correct: The Worldcon-attending fans are only a small slice of fandom in general. There is lots of fandom, and audience, to go around. Contrary to some heightened rhetoric out there, it seems very unlikely that anyone’s being run out of town on a rail, no matter how much being run out of town might fulfill their persecution complex.
8. So what happens next year with the Hugos? Well, the Puppies have already declared that they will be back, so there’s that. The difference between next year and this last one, however, is the nearly 6,000 people who voted for the Hugos, only a small minority of which are Puppy-affiliated. If next year’s Worldcon folks are doing their job, they’ll attempt to make sure a sizable portion of this year’s voters will nominate next year as well, in all categories. The more people who nominate, the less successful slating by anyone will be, including the Puppies. And I expect people are motivated to nominate next year in any event.
So, while I expect slating, I don’t expect slates to dominate categories like they did this year. I suspect we’ll see a couple of nominations in each category being slate nominations, with the rest hitting the ballot by normal means. I likewise expect that slated nominees will continue to be punished, although possibly not to the extent of this year. I imagine at least one of the “anti-slating” proposals will be enacted for 2017, which should cut down on this specific nonsense, but don’t kid yourself that it will reduce gaming the system entirely. I expect the Puppies will continue to grump about how awful everyone else is to them, because they like feeling, evidence to the contrary, that they are being persecuted for something (aside from being jerks, that is).
Which is not to say people should relax about this. Hell, no. If you have a the ability, then nominate, damn you. In every category.
9. On a personal note, it’s been observed that if the Puppy slate nominees had not been around, my novel Lock In would have made the Hugo ballot this year. People have been curious if I feel like I was cheated out of a rightful spot in the limelight.
In a word: No. For one thing, I’m not sure you can say that if there was no Puppy campaign that all the categories would have sussed out exactly as they would if you simply eliminate the Puppy nominees. Also, I think it’s possible that some Puppy nominees could have gotten onto the ballot on their own steam — in the novel category Chuck Gannon has been nominated for a Nebula two times running, so I think he could have had a decent chance at the Hugo. Likewise Annie Bellet and Kary English I think might have made splashes under their own power (as examples). So I don’t see it as a given I would have been on the final ballot, regardless.
For another thing, dudes, I already have a Best Novel Hugo. One of the nice things about having one of those is that it takes the pressure off, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind getting some more Hugo nominations, and it’s always nice to take home the hardware. But if I never win another Hugo in my life I am fine. I have three, including the one (fairly or unfairly) considered “the big one.” I’m good.
Note my sanguine feelings about not making the ballot are not necessarily shared by others who finished under the cutoff, who might feel that otherwise they’d have been nominees. But for myself, meh.
10. As a final note, while I am opposed to slating, and I think the whining and self-justification and more than occasional spite that foamed out of the Puppy camp was and is childish and silly, I am 100% behind the idea that people who believe that the type of science fiction or fantasy they love is not represented at the Hugos, should participate in and vote for the awards. They should do it like everyone else does, which is to say, by voting their own choices, not the choices of someone else who has constructed a slate of nominees for reasons.
If every Puppy did that rather than voted a slate, you’d not hear a peep out of me. Their ballots would reflect their own individual tastes, which might not be mine (although you never know!), but you know what? That’s fine. Honestly, it is.
Ditch the slate, vote your taste. Really, it’s just that simple.
It’s an annual tradition for me around here to post a picture of Athena on her first day of a new school year, but this year I was on tour when that day rolled around. So Krissy took a picture instead, and now I’m posting it for the record. Here is Athena, on the first day of her junior year of high school. Sorry to have missed, but happy to see it now. We’ll do this again on the last day of school as well.
Back after three weeks of touring and these books (and two other stacks, which I will post later) were waiting for me. See anything here you’d put on your own shelves? Tell me in the comments!
As many of you know, my first job out of college was as the film critic for the Fresno Bee newspaper in (surprise!) Fresno, California. Fresno doesn’t have a sterling reputation in-state, but I have to tell you, I had a great time, and among other things, it’s where I met my wife. So when also-former-Fresno Bee writer Stephen H. Provost queried about Fresno Growing Up, I pretty much said, “bring it.” And thus he has. Hello, Fresno!
STEPHEN H. PROVOST:
When Mr. Spock is your role model growing up, you don’t tend to think in terms of fate or destiny. Everything’s supposed to be logical. You know, as in traveling through time by boomeranging a starship around the sun at warp speed. As in visiting mirror universes, or hopping onto a “transporter” that scrambles your atoms and reassembled them in perfect precision hundreds of miles away.
Maybe life isn’t so logical after all. Maybe patterns can be scrambled and unscrambled again, and maybe we really can go back in time.
This would explain why I keep boomeranging back to my hometown, Fresno, the subject of my Big Idea book, “Fresno Growing Up.” At the age of 3, I spent a year in the land of kangaroos, Vegemite sandwiches and, yes, boomerangs, then back I flew to Fresno. There were six years in L.A. as a teenager, living next door to a major leaguer on one side and the assistant music director for the “Tonight Show” on the other, before I made another return trip. Then I graduated from college and moved down the road in world’s dairy capital, Tulare. Then, you guessed it, back again.
By that time, I’d spent a decade as a journalist, having entered the field because I figured it offered more security than being an author. I even spent 14 years working for my hometown newspaper, The Fresno Bee, before the recession left me out of a job and prepared to resume the author gig 30 years after my first stab at writing: a wannabe Tolkienesque great American novel that’s sitting in a shoebox somewhere.
Taking another shot at long-form writing was my first Big Idea. I churned out several CreateSpace books under a pen name (Stifyn Emrys) but, in the meantime, I found myself riding the boomerang again – right back into journalism. Talk about déjà vu. These days, I’m working for a newspaper that shares the same publisher as The Fresno Bee, and that’s even printed on the same press … in Fresno, of course. It’s as if my words are taken, via “transporter,” from California’s Central Coast and reassembled in my hometown, then “beamed” (actually trucked) back to San Luis Obispo County for public consumption.
It may not be Kauai or Tahiti, but the Central Coast is the next best thing, which explains why so many Fresnans end up here (it seemed like half the people I interviewed for my book about Fresno were actually residing here, not there).
Still, as I was basking in the cool endless summer on the California coast, strange as it may seem, I began to miss Fresno. Not so much the place I’d just left, but the place where I’d grown up – the Fresno of my youth. That’s when an idea started to take root. It started out as a small idea. Plenty of people had written stories of Fresno’s early history, but few had written about the Fresno I remembered – the quintessential mid-sized American city of the Baby Boom era.
Why not me? I thought. Why not attempt a little time travel? The endeavor took me through hundreds of old newspaper stories, books about the era and phone or email interviews with others who, like me, had lived the city’s story.
Instead of writing about founding fathers, politicians and esteemed ancestors, I wrote about the birth of the Top 40 Boss Radio format (yes, this happened in Fresno). I wrote about how Bank of America used the city as the test market for a newfangled plastic convenience called BankAmericard – the first national credit card and ancient ancestor of the modern Visa. There was a reason the powers that be at BofA chose Fresno for their grand experiment: It was smack-dab in the middle of California, the same way Peoria was at the heart of Middle America.
Fresno had its local celebrities (football letterman-turned-variety show king and pitchman extraordinaire Al Radka), its athletic heroes (big leaguers Tom Seaver, Jim Maloney and Gus Zernial), its clubs, hangouts and drive-ins. Every Friday night, kids would pile into their cars and cruise up and down the main drag in a ritual that, just up the road in Modesto, served as the blueprint for George Lucas’ breakthrough hit, “American Graffiti” and the nostalgia-heavy TV series “Happy Days” … which has now, itself, become a piece of nostalgia.
People love nostalgia; they love reminiscing, so I figured they might just love a nostalgic look back at their hometown during the era they had lived through. The small idea was starting to get a little bigger.
The original plan was just to publish “Fresno Growing Up” myself, as I had my other books. But as I thought about it, I realized that my “small idea” had already gotten too big for that. I’d taken scores of photos and had received permission to use a number of historical images. I couldn’t hope to do them justice in the confines of CreateSpace’s fine but limited format. So I pushed my way past the visions of rejection notices that were dancing in the mosh pit of my brain: I did some research, found a publisher I thought would do the topic justice, and fired off a query letter.
What I got back two weeks later was a slightly belated Christmas present expressing interest in the project – which the publisher proceeded to turn into the kind of work I could never have hoped to achieve on my own. The small idea that became a Big Idea was now a Big Reality.
In the process of it all, I managed to achieve a form of time travel without getting anywhere near a star. Turns out, it wasn’t science fiction at all; it was history. Eminently logical. Mr. Spock, I think, would have been proud.
UPDATE, 8/29/15: Donations top $10,000! The audio is up!
UPDATE, 8/28/15: As of 1pm today, the donations to Con or Bust — not counting my $500 matching gift — are $6869.17. Which is, uh, more than the $2,500 goal! Whoo-hoo! The audio has been recorded, and will be released Monday.
Now we are going for:
STRETCH GOAL: If the donations to Con or Bust reach $10,000 by 11:59 (Eastern) Sunday, August 30, 2015, I will commission or write a ditty with the title “John Scalzi is Not Very Popular,” in which my various perfidies and shortcomings are to be enumerated — in song! You know you want this to happen. So keep donating!
Plus: If the $10k is reached today (Friday, 7/28), I will release the audio as soon as we hit that goal line.
And now, the previous version of this entry, which explains everything prior to the update:
Short version: To benefit Con or Bust, a charity which helps fans of color attend science fiction and fantasy conventions, I will make an audio version of John Scalzi Is Not A Very Popular Author And I Myself Am Quite Popular: How SJWs Always Lie About Our Comparative Popularity Levels, a parody of an actual book by a certain obnoxious bigot who is obsessed with me, if $2,500 is raised for Con or Bust by 11:59pm (Eastern), Sunday, August 30, 2015. You can donate to Con or Bust here. To goose the giving, I will gift-match for the first $500 in donations.
Somewhat Less Short Version: So, there’s an obnoxious bigot who is obsessed with me who the other day released a poorly-edited ebook on the subject of “social justice warriors” and how generally horrible they are, and allegedly (as I have not read the work), I am featured in the ebook quite a lot, because, again, the obnoxious bigot who wrote the book is obsessed with me.
So “Theo Pratt” wrote a parody of the ebook, entitled John Scalzi Is Not A Very Popular Author And I Myself Am Quite Popular: How SJWs Always Lie About Our Comparative Popularity Levels. Here’s the writeup on it:
Everyone knows that SJWs always lie, but few know why they lie, or at whose bidding, or for whose benefit. While other books may claim to tell you how to take down the Thought Police, only one book is taking the fight right to the top.
Yes, from the mind that brought you the popular blog feature Sad Puppies Review Books comes this definitive takedown of the internet’s culture of Social Justice as embodied by the man who controls it all:
Read this book to learn everything you need to know about Social Justice Warriors, their tactics, their treachery, their perfidious entryism. Topics include:
* John Scalzi’s blog is not that interesting and no one reads it.
* John Scalzi does not understand satire as much as I, Theophilus Pratt, understand satire.
* John Scalzi did not get me, Theophilus Pratt, kicked out of the SFWA.
* John Scalzi’s deal with Tor was not a very good deal.
I love it already.
Basically as soon as its existence was made public, people started asking me to do an audio version of it, because that would be meta, wouldn’t it. And (with the permission of “Theo,” aka Alexandra Erin), I said fine — if doing so could have a positive benefit. In this case, raising money for Con or Bust, a charity which works to bring fans of color to science fiction and fantasy conventions (and yes, donations are tax-deductible in the US*).
So, the deal: If Con or Bust raises $2,500 by by 11:59pm (Eastern), Sunday, August 30, I will create the audio version of the John Scalzi Is Not A Very Popular Author And I Myself Am Quite Popular. And because I’d actually like to do it, because I think it would be fun and because I like the charity, I will gift-match for the first $500 in donations. You can donate by going here.
Is this like a Kickstarter?
No! You’re straight up donating. If we don’t make it to $2.5k, your donation will still go through. So you’ll want to encourage everyone you know to donate so you get the audio. There’s risk! But I suspect we can between us cough up $2.5k in three days, no?
If this succeeds, where will the audio be?
I’ll post it up here. The ebook is fairly short (28 pages) so it’ll be a manageable file size.
How will you accomplish this mighty task?
I have a microphone and recording software. It’s not rocket science.
When will the audio be ready?
Probably very soon afterward, because it’ll be short.
Why Con or Bust?
As I said, it’s a worthy charity with admirable goals, and also it’s run by people I know and trust.
Blah blah blah something something just giving the obnoxious bigot oxygen blah blah.
Whatever. This is a fun way to help foster diversity in science fiction and fantasy fandom while making fun of a jerk. I’m in.
Thanks and let’s do this thing!
* It’s been suggested that the Carl Brandon Society, under whose umbrella Con or Bust works, let their tax-deductible status lapse. I’ll check into that. That said, Con or Bust is run by Kate Nepveu, who I’ve known for years and who I know has the best of characters. Your money will go to where she says it will. Remember, I gave $500 of my own money. I have no doubt it will be well spent.
Home is where your lawn is.
I’m off to get re-acquainted with my wife and child and pets. See you all later. But before I go, thank you to everyone who came to see me on tour these last three weeks. You were each wonderful and I’m so glad you spent some of your time with me. Genuinely honored.
(And don’t worry Dayton and Columbus, I’m still coming to see you. Promise!)
(Also, for those of you who are all “Hey he’s back home so I can send him email again — uhhh, maybe send it Monday? Thanks.)
If you follow me on Twitter at all then you’ll know that yesterday I had lunch with this fellow, who you humans know as “Tom Hanks.” Naturally, many people wanted to know how and why this meal appointment came about. The answer I can tell you about is that Mr. Hanks is a fan (and as it happens, I am a fan of his), so when he learned that I was to be in town, he asked if I would like to have lunch. And yes, yes I would.
I won’t go into the details of what we chatted about, but I will say that every single thing you’ve ever heard about Tom Hanks being a genuinely nice person appears to be 100% true, and I was not in the least surprised, but nevertheless still very happy, to discover that was the case. Genuinely nice people are rare in the world and should be appreciated as such.
So, anyway: Hi! My life is pretty neat sometimes.
Patio and pool instead of a parking lot. I can totally end this series of pictures on that note.
Tonight: The Poisoned Pen in fabulous Scottsdale, Arizona. 7pm. Final event of this tour (well, sort of — I still have Dayton and Columbus, but I’ll be driving to those from home rather than getting there by plane. You know what I mean, here). If you’re in the Phoenix area, come by and see me! It’ll be grand.
Tomorrow: Home! You’re not invited. Sorry.
You know what? You’re busy. Sometimes you miss things. Sometimes they’re important things. But in Nowhere Wild, author Joe Beernink posits what happens when you miss something really really really important.
When I started writing what would become Nowhere Wild, I had one central theme in mind. What if civilization as we know it ended, and you didn’t know?
How could you not know civilization had ended? Were you in a coma? Well, that’s been done. Or maybe you were on a long trip to outer space, only to come back to a world devoid of life? That’s been done, too. A lot. But, what if the character, let’s call him Jake, has been in an location here on Earth which is so isolated, that he hasn’t even heard about the end of the world as we know it? What if that place wasn’t some remote desert island, or some deep jungle of South America? What if it were a place that regular people go to vacation—to get away from it all?
As it turns out, there are places right here in North America which are so isolated, where this might just occur. I spent a lot of my childhood reading about life in these types of harsh locations. Farley Mowat’s Lost in The Barrens, and Jack London’s Call of the Wild always top my list of books to give to people who want their kids to read great adventure stories. They’re written about a different time in history, but some of those remote places still exist, relatively untouched by man. To live there today, for most people, requires modern technology like airplanes and satellite radios. When those tethers to civilization go away, and go away suddenly, what would those people living there do?
What if Jake was in the wilds of Northern Manitoba when the world fell apart, and all he knew is that his ride home had never arrived and that no one would answer his calls for help?
That was the scenario I started with when I began the first draft of Nowhere Wild so long ago: a boy, alone in the woods, who knows exactly where he is, but doesn’t know where everyone else has gone. Besides the obvious physical challenges of survival–traversing hundreds of miles of bush, swamp and open water, finding shelter, food and water—Jake would have to deal with the emotional aspects of survival. Fear. Loneliness. Self-pity. Frustration.
As the author of this story, I often had to deal with the same emotional challenges: the fear that this story, one that begged me to be told, would never come together. The loneliness of spending months—years even—writing and rewriting the story until everything fell into place. The self-pity and frustration of having put myself in the position of writing a novel where there was but one character. No one for Jake to talk to. No conflict but Jake’s struggle against nature and his own body. Conflict of that sort is constant and relentless, but it can admittedly make for some slow reading.
In the earliest drafts of Nowhere Wild, I introduced a minor character in the last few chapters of the story. When I say minor, I mean really minor. Izzy had maybe five or six lines of dialog. But as it happens, everyone who read those early drafts wanted to know more about her. Where did she come from? How did she survive so long? They wanted her story told as well. At first I ignored those pleas. The story was about Jake and his struggles. But as more people read it, I realized that her story had to be told, not just for the mechanics of the book, but because her story, though much different than Jake’s, was also about survival.
What would Izzy do if she knew that society was gone, and there was nothing left to go back to, but that was still better than where she was?
That is Izzy’s struggle. She’s seen the worst of what happens after law and order disappear and society breaks down. She’s survived the initial struggle, and she’s not alone. But she’s not safe either. What if the one thing she knew could kill her, was the one thing she needed most to remain alive?
This parking lot is made of brick!
Tonight: Kepler’s! In Menlo Park. 7pm. Me in conversation with Tad Williams. Should be a ton of fun. You should totally come by.
Tomorrow: The penultimate event of the tour takes place in downtown LA, at The Last Bookstore, at 7:30pm. I’m very excited to be showing up to this bookstore, which is by all accounts a simply amazing space. I can’t wait. Hope to see you there.
(Warning: Hugo neepery. Avoid if you don’t care.)
As most of you know, at last Saturday’s Hugo Awards ceremony, the voters, of which there were a record number, chose not to offer awards in five categories rather than to give the award to nominees who got on the ballot because of the Sad/Rabid Puppy slating campaign. In the categories in which awards were given, in nearly all cases the Puppy nominees in the category finished below “No Award.” The only category where a Puppy nominee prevailed was in Best Dramatic Presentation, in which one of their choices was Guardians of the Galaxy. There’s not a lot of credit they can take for that one.
Why did the Puppies fare so poorly? There has already been much speculation and analysis on the matter, and there will continue to be for some time. But in my estimation (and leaving out issues of literary quality of the nominations, which is super-subjective), the reason for their massive and historic failure is simple:
They acted like jerks, and performed a series of jerk maneuvers.
The first of these points in itself would almost certainly have been enough to motivate people to vote against the slates, and the nominees who willingly (or, sadly in a number of cases, unwittingly) found themselves on them. But the other nine points didn’t help, and a lot of the people who declared themselves Puppies or allied themselves with them went out of their way to do some or all of those points. Repeatedly, and with increasing foaminess as things went along.
Here’s the thing: If you perform a bunch of jerk maneuvers, people are likely to treat you like you’re a jerk.
Consonantly: If you perform a bunch of jerk maneuvers, you might, in fact, actually be a jerk. Not always. But the correlation is there, and that correlation gets increasingly significant the more jerk maneuvers you perform.
There is (usually) no crime in performing a jerk maneuver, or acting like a jerk. Everyone can, and has, acted like a jerk from time to time. It’s a regrettable but natural part of the human experience. But most people have the good sense to understand that acting like a jerk should not be a lifestyle choice, and that if you make it one, people will respond to you based on your choices.
As they did, in this case, with the Hugos. The Hugo vote against the Puppy slates was not about politics, or cabals, or one species of science fiction and fantasy over another, no matter what anyone would like you to believe — or at the very least, it wasn’t mostly about those things. It was about small group of people acting like jerks, and another, rather larger group, expressing their displeasure at them acting so.
Mind you, I don’t expect the core Puppies to recognize this; indeed I expect them to say they haven’t done a single thing that has been other than forthright and noble and correct. Well, and here’s the thing about that: acting like an jerk and then asserting that no, it’s everyone else that’s been acting like a jerk, is the biggest jerk maneuver of all.
(Comments on this piece off for now, because I’m about to start an event and have a super-busy day today. I might turn them on later.)
Something I missed when it happened last week, because, you know, on tour and all that: The End of All Things debuted on the USA Today Bestseller list at #31, which is the highest a book of mine has ever gotten on the USA Today list. As comparisons, Lock In clocked in at #107, and Redshirts came in at #55. So that’s a pretty positive thing, I have to say.
Interestingly, despite this being my highest charting book on the USA Today list, The End of All Things did not hit the NYT Hardcover Fiction list for its debut week. How does that happen? Basically because the particular lists track different things — the NYT list tracks fiction hardcover sales specifically whilst the USA Today list tracks every book regardless of category (which is how the #30 book on the USA Today list is Felicia Day’s book, which is non-fiction), and also because both organizations also do a bit of sampling and filtering to build their lists. I’ve gone into how bestseller lists differ before, so I won’t dig in here; suffice to say that these lists are complicated beasts.
Nevertheless, I am delighted to see The End of All Things doing well and hitting a new height on the USA Today list. It’s nice when all that work pays off, sales-wise, at least.