Okay, all the acceptances and rejections for Subterranean Magazine’s "Big Honkin’ Science Fiction Cliche" Issue are now officially out. If you submitted a story and you haven’t gotten a rejection notice by, say, Wednesday (I’ve heard from all of those whose stories have been accepted), you can go ahead and e-mail me, at which point, uh, I guess I’ll tell you that I passed on your story. Sorry about that.
In happier news, I spent a part of the evening writing checks and sending people money through Paypal. Since most people got their acceptance notices on Saturday, this means the lag between acceptance and payment was two days for the people with PayPal accounts. This was because a) Subterranean Magazine publisher Bill Schafer was writer-savvy enough to get the editorial budget to me upfront, so there was no question as to whether the money was in the pipeline, and b) being a writer myself, I know that it’s nice to, you know, get paid. So generally speaking as soon as I know where the money’s going and how the author wants it to go, it’s out the door. Which is not to say I’m a complete hero; Elizabeth Bear was superawesome and got a story to me early (and it rules), and I’m only now mailing the damn check. Dear Bear: I suck. Please forgive me. Anyway, the check’s on the way now. I do have to say that there’s very little nicer in the world than being able to give money to people whose work you admire. Especially when it’s not your money.
The final line-up of stories is still pending while a few writers with extended deadlines tend to their stories and rewrites, but even with what we’ve got nailed down I think you folks are going to like what you see. There’s a good mix of stories and story styles, and also a nice mix in the ways writers approach their cliches, from flat-out farce to pure mysticism. And here’s something exciting: among the established names in the lineup I’m very pleased to say we have four writers making their publishing debut in Subterranean, with stories that are meditations on totalitarianism, tales of a Barsoom-esque Mars, a twisty Silicon Valley mystery, and a look at the human side of being a war machine. I’m not at all far removed from being a newbie SF writer (it hasn’t even been a year since Old Man’s War hit the stores, after all), so its an honor and a privilege to be able to hold open the door and sneak a few more people into the club. Hopefully they’ll remember me when they hit the big time, and will, like, spare me some change. Wow, didn’t you used to edit science fiction? Why yes, yes I did. Hey, are you going to eat that?
Also exciting: The story I got yesterday from Allen M. Steele, called "The Last Science Fiction Writer." Ooooh, I could tell you about it. But I’m not gonna. But I can tell you that if you knew what the story was like, you’d want me to tell you about it. Yes, I’m aware that makes no sense at all. But you know what I’m trying to say here, people. It’s good, and I think you’re going to like it. I think you’re going to like the whole issue.
In any event. When I lock down all the stories, you’ll get the full line-up. Until then, patience.