Bob In Translation

Why I feel Like a Sap

2011-03-21T15:26:00.004Z

Apart from the usual and obvious, I am feeling particularly sap-like today. While browsing facebook I was caught by an ad for a book called The Year The Music Died. I read the advertising copy and it sounded just like a book I'd really enjoy. So I went on-line and bought it. It purported to be about pop music's best years - 1964 to 1972 - and, according to the cover, an irreverent look at the musicians and social movements of the time. What it didn't say is that it is not journalism, as it presents itself to be, but the narrow-minded prejudice of one guy. Not even a musician or industry insider; just a regular mug punter like you and me. What it consists of is a bunch of completely subjective opinions with nothing whatsoever to back them up - not even coherent argument.
Here are some examples: The first section of the book is called The First Tier. It comprises chapters about The Beatles - quote, 'As if they did not have everything else going for them, it is interesting that all three guitarists were the same height (5'11")' and here's a good one: The average song rating on Sgt. Pepper is 2,69 (out of 5). Rated by the author, totally subjectively, just his opinion. Then it goes on to cover John Lennon -The Rolling Stones - The Byrds - The Doors and finally Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
I go on at length about this because of the second section: The Second Tier begins with a long piece about The Beach Boys, then shorter pieces on Buffalo Springfield, Cream, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bob Dylan (I'm not even a Dylan fan and I'd put him right up at or near the top of the first tier), Jimi Hendrix (did you think it could get worse?), The Mamas and the Papas, Simon and Garfunkle, The Who and Neil Young. I get the impression that these are in order of (second division) greatness. And that's not to mention the copious number of charts, all based upon, you guessed it, the opinions of the author and absolutely nothing else.
Anyone but a masochist would have bailed at this point. Lord forgive me, but I read this thing right through to the end. I guess I'm like those people in Ballard's Crash who have a fascination for atrocity. And atrocity it is. It has to be self-published, although the publisher, Bridgeway Books, claims to be legit. However, I get the impression from their website that they CO-OPERATE with their authors; I read that as you pay them money and they'll publish it. What they don't give is editorial advice or even copy-editing from the looks of this piece of shhhh.... you know what, to paraphrase an old TV commercial for Ssssh.... you know who.
I would not have written this bitterly critical diatribe (I must look that up - bitterly critical is in the definition, I must be channeling the OED) had the idea of the book not appealed to me on such a gut level. I haven't looked forward to getting a book through the post in so long and I have never been so disappointed. Take a bow Dwight Rounds.

Badge Kissers

2011-02-09T11:02:00.003Z

As a football fan, I don't think I can take much more of the millionaire players whining that no-one loves them (even the clubs that are going bankrupt to pay their obscene wages). Fernando Torres is probably not the worst of them, but he's the one who attracted my ire this week - well, last week actually but I was away on business and did not have access to a computer (long story). However, he did stir the anti-poet in me and so I offer to you this anti-Haiku:

Badge Kissers
Chasing rainbows,
The superstar kisses his badge
Goodbye

Poetry Rant

2010-07-08T11:50:00.003+01:00

I regularly workshop my fiction with some of my colleagues on the Albedo One editorial team. Recently some of them - you know who you are you **star*s - have brought along poetry. Now, I'm famously broadminded, but my opinion of poetry remains unchanged from school days when Keats and Shelley were rammed down my throat. But I was on a plane a while ago, atempting to sleep in a seat designed by a Spanish Inquisitor with a hatred of anyone above the height of five four. So, not much sleep, then. But I awoke with a poem in my head and it wouldn't go away. So I wrote it down and left it on my desk where, naturally, random papers accumulated on top. This morning I found it and, fairly radiating with a love of all humankind, I decided to sling it out into the void. It doesn't even have a title but what the hell, here goes:

Awakening,
Two monochrome giants bend solicitously over me,
Their huge mouths scream noise at me in a register that only my obsolescent fillings can sense,
As I race heedlessly through my mayfly existence.

If the psychiatrist is in he might just take a look at that.

Ungentlemanly Conduct.

2010-07-05T14:08:00.002+01:00

I have been watching the World Cup for the past while and become more and more frustrated at the over-paid and over-indulged children who play the game at the top level. I know that the Premier League will argue that it is indeed the top level of the sport as will the Champions League, but despite the continuing erosion of the importance of international football I still believe the World Cup to be the premier competition in World football.
Unfortunately FIFA have allowed the 'beautiful game' to be devalued connstantly by the playground antics of so-called professionals that consistently go unpunished leading our own children to believe that this is the way the game should be played and indeed the way that they should go through life. If our children are allowed to watch sporting superstars, some of their most important role and life models, continuing to act like thugs and get away with it - disrespecting the laws of the game, the officials placed in charge and their fellow players - attempting to cheat to gain an advantage at every hand's turn - feigning injury in order to have a 'colleague' dismissed from the field of play - why are we surprised to see the children's behaviour deteriorating and their respect for authority diminish almost daily.
But more importantly - as I am sure Bill Shankley would have said - it's ruining football.
Rugby has been described as a gurrier's game played by gentlemen (though less so since the arrival of professionalism) and football as a gentleman's game played by gurriers. Certainly the latter is more true now than ever before. Can these guys not see themselves making asses of themselves, the sport, referrees and the viewing public by throwing temselves to the ground feigning injury when the tackler missed by a couple of feet. They watch continuous replays of matches - don't they feel embarrassed in the slightest when the camera proves what a lying, faking cheating wanker they are? I also blame the pundits who think it is reasonable for a forward to drag his foot so that it hits the goalie or the defenders outstretched leg to gain a penalty. I also blame the officials and the interpretation of the laws, Surely there must be intent for a foul to be given. Surely the forward intentionally kicking the goalkeeper is the foul and should be penalised. If referees weren't so afraid of offending players they might more often go with their gut instinct and book the cheating bastard rolling about the penalty area as though he had been reversed into by his WAG's beemer or shot by a sniper in the crowd.
The real question is why has cheating become a way of life for highly paid professional footballers. Why do their own fans not turn on them and demand that they play fairly? Why do their managers not punish them for their on-field indiscretions so that they stop embarrassing us all with their theatrics and their unmitigated cheating and thuggery? The sport may soon become unplayable if a solution is not found. Already the game has become almost non-contact. When there is a tackle the referee seems to assume that the guy who lost, and is naturally writhing about on the floor, was fouled and gives him a free kick. I think the referee should be allowed to give these blokes a good kicking. Stick the boot in. Shout abuse at him. Insult his mother. I know it sounds radical but it might at least give us a good laugh, because there'll be no good football left to watch, merely a series of free kicks advancing a team up the park until they get close enough to attempt a shot from the next free using a ball that refuses to fly true so the goalkeeper can be made to look a prat as often as possible. If it wasn't for the money no child in his right mind would want to play the game. I heard on the radio the other day a group discussing why skills coaching was so essential now that kids no longer kick footballs about in the street endlessly. And why don't they? Because it hurts like f**k if you throw yourself to the ground on tarmac or concrete. Rolling about on the street will get you a kicking from the opposition or even your mates. They know you're faking. Sure you skinned your knee. Big deal. Get up and get on with the game. Act like a man.
Was that last sentence politically incorrect? I don't think it should be. Learning to act like a man was one of the important things football used to teach. Now it's how to act like a gutless, cheating twat.
On a serious note I suggest the introduction of video evidence to be checked by a citing panel after games (like gentlemanly rugby) to deal with incidents where players are suspected of attempting to fool the referee or if they may have got away with cheating. Huge fines and suspensions would soon change their attitude to fair play.

The Harbinger Relay Award

2010-06-26T05:01:00.002+01:00

Someone put me on a list, so I got an email about the above award. It sounds really interesting and is yet another activity that is passing us Anglophones by. The content of the email is posted on the Albedo One facebook fanpage and is really worth a look.

Hicks & Gillette - the best thing to happen Man U - EVER

2010-06-04T11:25:00.002+01:00

So, the Yanks have finally succeeded in turning England's most successful football club into a bemused rabble. 'Sir' must be laughing himself sick. And he can probably indulge himself for the next year at least. The papers are full of speculation about who will manage the Reds next, with such luminaries as Roy Hodgson and Martin O'Neill to the forefront. Last time the job came up the board took a huge punt on Rafa Benitez - after all he had only won two Spanish league titles and a EUFA Cup (or whatever it was they were calling it that week). Now they're worried that Liverpool might not be attractive to the like of these? How have the mighty fallen.
Whatever you may think of Benitez, the one thing you can say (pun intended) was that he bled red. No-one ever doubted that he loved the club. So did Rick Parry, and see where that got him. Fernando Torres may be Spanish but I believe his love for the club is genuine - not this ***king badge kissing you see all over the show these days from mercenary tossers who have parked their Ferraris in the players car park for the past fifteen minutes and claim that makes them lifelong fans. How much do you think it will take to pry this irreplacable asset away from Merseyside? I guarantee that it will be twenty million less than he's worth. But don't worry, they doubtless have the irrepressible Bobby Zamora lined up - after all he's just had a (single) good season and that makes him a potential superstar. And they can probably get him for only 25 million (and two signed Torres shirts for Fulhams new owners. What, they haven't been sold this month?)
Then we get to Steven Gerrard, the onle player at any club in Britain that is truly irreplacable. It's not just that he is the best player in his position (or many positions, unfortunately) in.... choose from England/Europe/the world... but that he also encapsulates the spirit of the club and its supporters. But it's not hard to imagine him following Michael Owen's brave trail to Real Madrid (and look how that worked out for his career - and his medal haul). Imagine how that money would look knocked off the clubs debts.
Naturally Jamie Carragher would have to go. Great servant that he has been, they'd let him go on a free to Tranmere Rovers or maye even Stoke City. And there you have it, Liverpool FC gutted. And the problem with this scenario? It's not even all that unlikely.
Fine, sell Torres and Gerrard if you are prepared to spend the money on replacements. The pair could go for 100 million of the board play their cards right (though they are such useless ***kers you could see them letting the pair go for under fifty). 100 million would buy quite a decent team. And might persuade Mascherano to stay put. They could do worse than build a team around him. But you know, I doubt that's going to happen. We'll get a second rate manager (though one of the best of the second-raters) and sell out to another bunch who haven't got the funds to back their bluster and consolidate for a couple of seasons with prospects up from the Championship or the Betfred Premier League (apologies to Jonjo Shalvey).
Then all true Liverpool fans can prepare for trips to Grimsby and Hull with the odd Wembley adventure at the Freight Rover Trophy or the FA Vase.
At least they can't take away the nineteen or the five that will still decorate the flags.

Cooking For Blokes

2010-05-26T16:10:00.004+01:00

Subtitle: Earn her respect and the key to the bedroom by cooking her a simple meal (with the utmost respect to girls of all ages).
I called to a friend's apartment (they used to be flats when I lived in one) a while ago. He warned me in advance that if I wanted food - the invitation was for casual dining - it was Chicken Korma or nothing, cause that was the jar of sauce he had and he couldn't cook anything else except... one other thing, can't remember what but he didn't have a jar of that anyway.
It got me to thinking about how many blokes go through life handicapped by the inability to cook a decent healthy meal: it is merely a laziness of mind and body. So I thought, stick out some simple recipes that even brain surgeons will be able to cook. It's purely a community service. Why should guys be allowed to stand in front of a cooker and flutter their hands about in front of their faces and claim: "I've no idea how to even boil water." Or some such bo***x (hint - too many letters for botox).
So here goes: Lesson One, Spaghetti Bolognese for morons.
Ingredients:
one pound of minced beef (best quality you can afford).
one chopped onion or a pepper (red or green) or both.
one OXO cube - not necessary if you've got good quality meat but nice all the same (in US this might be a problem - it's a sort of stock cube).
a handful of mushrooms
basil leaves - fresh if you have them
salt and pepper to taste
a dollop of Mascarpone cheese or soured cream (optional, takes the edge off the tomato sauce)
one jar of a branded spaghetti sauce like Ragu or Dolmio or Newman's Own - whatever.
You can leave anything out except the minced beef and jar of sauce and you can add anything in the cupboard that you think will enhance the flavour once you've tried the basic recipe and know what flavours you are dealing with. I usually vary the type/brand of sauce every time as this subtly changes the flavour of the dish and prevents your palate from getting bored.
Method.
Brown the mince in a heavy saucepan or frying pan. Add the OXO. Season. Add basil. Add onion. Cook until onion begins to soften. Add jar of sauce.
Now, put some pasta on the stove and cook per instuctions on the pack.
Add mushrooms to the meat sauce. When the pasta is ready, serve it all up.
This tastes great the following day. Microwave leftovers with a baked potato (also cooked in the microwave).
The sauce is also great as the base fo a Lasagne.
Cook this for the mot (Dublinese for girlfriend/wife) and amaze her at your culinary skills.
By the way, the cook never washes the dishes. That's a rule.
PS I wrote this from my perspective so I made it a boy/girl thing. But it can just as easily be reversed or changed to boy/boy or girl/girl. Like the recipe, you all can mix and match.

Spolier Alert

2010-05-18T14:38:00.003+01:00

I went to see Robin Hood the other day as I thought it was a safe (Hollywood blockbuster) bet, even though reviews have been luke-warmish. But I was wrong. It really is something that might have been propelled from the wrong end of a camel. I heard that Russell Crowe threw a bit of a knicker fit when a journo had the temerity to suggest that his accent might have sounded a little Irish. Perhaps it was Russell's tribute to the late, great Marlon Brando whose accent in The Missouri Breaks swerved alarmingly through Irish, English, Australian and other modes. Or perhaps he simply wasn't bothered. After all, we should be honoured to offer up our tenners if he deigns to swish across the screen, and especially if he gets his tits out. But his accents were appalling. Yes there was Irish, but I also spotted Liverpool and Yorkshire in there as well. That is, apart fromt he generic non-BBC, regional accent with which he had been coached.
Usually you don't need to actively work on suspension of disbelief in a movie: they've got you in a theatre in the dark and you're loaded up with popcorn and fizzy drink. However, with R. Hood esq. I found myself questioning that suspension regularly as they trampled all over the legend (as we've heard it to date) and attempted to re-make the Hood persona into a character fit to carry several sequels.
Had the climactic battle not happened right at the end I definitely would have laughed out loud. And then walked out. So, we've got the French landing on a beach beneath towering cliffs - that's okay if you feel the invadees deserve whatever advantages are going. Then R. Hood esq. (our hero) deserts his post with the archers - this part of the legend they left in tact as he was portrayed as an actual archer with a bow and arrows and everything hooray! - and charges on horseback (he presumably learned to ride expertly after stealing a nob's horse in France) after the cavalry. Somehow, though he left last, he arrived at the battle at the head of the charge. Having abandoned his bow he then proceeds to hack the living daylights out of the expert swordsmen arrayed against him, with a sword. But the real laugh arrived in the form of Maid Marian, in form-fitting girl armour (probably it was a full body chastity suit thingy - they all had them back in the dark ages) at the head of a band of munchkins on toy horses. Okay, they were supposed to be rebel children on ponies but they just looked so comedic and out of place that my resistance to hilarity ran out of steam.
Oh, and one last thing. the eegit in t e Sunday Times (Cosmo, you know who I'm talking about) tried to claim that this was a good movie, well acted and well scripted. The acting was lazy and the script was execrable. But Russell did get his tits out, girls. Maybe that's why Cosmo (the guy not the mag) gave it four stars out of five.

The Real Lottery

2010-04-02T20:20:00.002+01:00

I've been buying vinyl LPs on ebay for a couple or three years. I have yet to buy a new LP - they are far too expensive; I can buy them in Dublin cheaper and that's a real indictment. My limit is about ten euro, including postage. So I need to be patient and take lots of risks. So far it's working out okay. I've bought lots of old LPs - stuff I never owned back in the day or replacements for long lost gems.
I grew up buying my books second hand. For two reasons: one, I didn't have money to buy new books and needed to trade the stuff I didn't want (or my dad took his eye off) in order to feed my habit. Two, none of the REAL bookshops stocked much SF and none of them carried American comics. So I've still got a taste for second hand bookshops - I guess it's the thrill of the chase. You walk into an ordinary bookshop and you have a vast choice, but in a second hand shop you have to search thoroughly and be lucky and smart to find decent books. I suppose buying Lps on ebay replicates that feeling.
Today, even though it's Good Friday and the pubs are shut, the postman came and delivered to LPs. Today I got the worst LP of my short ebay career. Did you know that some surface scuffing translates into 'This was used extensively as an ashtray in the seventies and has been buried in my garden for the past decade.'Light marking on the cover apparently means, 'You may recognise the contents from the evidence of the cover, if you have training in forensics and a really good imagination.
Still, the second LP looked just as bad but it played perfectly. However the problem is that the first LP is one I never got around to buying back when: Dark Side of the Moon, would you believe? And anything quiet is drowned out by the sound of frying chips (cooking French Fries, to our colonial cousins) and Money turns out to be about one minute fifteen long due to skipping.
I guess I'll simply have to roll them dice again and hope for a better result. Still, it's my first snake eyes.

Translation News

2010-04-01T15:51:00.002+01:00

Despite the Irish Art's Council's continued disinterest in the written word in general and Sf in particular we continue to forge ahead in our efforts to bring fiction from other languages into English (or as close to it as we can get in Ireland). Through the good offices of UK author Colin Harvey, I may have discovered a way to circumvent the Arts Council and get to the EU directly for funding for translations and perhaps also for some aunthologies. If anyone reading this has any interest in European fiction as a writer or publisher they should contact me. If you comment on this piece I can probably track you down, or you could leave a comment on the Albedo One fan page on Facebook.

RTFM

2010-03-18T13:16:00.003Z

For both of you not familiar with computer speak, the title refers to the advice that used to be given to all computer nubes: read the $%^king manual. This sage advice applies to virtually every walk of life but nowhere is it more relevant than to the writer submitting on spec.

Firstly you must remember that every time you submit a story you are entering a contest with every other poor eegit who has sent a submission to that particular market during that particular reading period. In many ways this is like a beauty contest and you need to put your best foot forward right from the beginning. So, even before an editor reads your piece he (or she) will have begun to judge you.

So how many ways are there to get it wrong before your one-man judge, jury (and more than likely, executioner) even gets to word one? Firstly, as you may remember from a previous blog (ELP, read it now, if you haven’t already) there is the cover letter. Nonexistent and it is unlikely the editor will bother to read your submission at all. Too short is forgivable, too long shows a lack of consideration for the poor, overworked, underpaid sap who is already reading far too much for far too little reward.

So what information does the editor require? And here I refer you to the title of this piece which now transmutes into RTFG(uidelines). That’s where the editor will have set out the information that you need in order to SUCCESSFULLY submit to his market. Take a moment to jump away from this blog to check out a random sample of guidelines on, for example, ralan.com. Many of them will be similar but there are many more who insert things like – submit in this exact format or your submission will be binned without being read – and that exact format may include things like file extension (.RTF), font (Times New Roman or Courier), format of manuscript (often detailed minutely, such as line gaps between each paragraph or two spaces after a full stop. You just never know what will be the trigger that will prevent an editor from reading all the way through your story. And if he doesn’t read all the way through then he won’t be buying it.

One of the magazines that ploughs a similar, though professional, furrow to Albedo One, regularly receives 800 submissions per month. They likely average out at about 6000 words each. Do the maths. The readers at this magazine are just waiting for the first excuse they can find to stop reading and reject your story; if that’s in the cover letter or in the formatting so much the better. It is your job to make it beautiful enough to be read, at least cosmetically and by their standards, so that if it fails to please it is because it is a crap story. And at least if you follow the guidelines you will be guaranteed that your story will be judged fairly and on its own intrinsic merits. Which means you will learn from each submission. It might only be that this particular editor dislikes your work, your style or has no taste in fiction.

Big Hole

2010-03-01T13:04:00.003Z

Having had a week to think about my initial reaction to the Grand Cayon I am now ready, upon mature reflection, to share my views.
We went to Tucson for a gemshow. It is in the middle of a desert. We brought summer wear as every day on our previous visits (eight in the past ten years) it was about seventy degrees farenheit. This time it rained. This time we had arranged a couple of days off to do tourist stuff - like the Canyon. And this time it rained on us. Twice. And it was cold.
Now call me ignorant, 'cos I am, but I thought the Canyon was a hole in the ground. But it turns out to be over seven thousand feet up int he mountains. And the weather was bad. Seven thousand feet up in the mountains there was three feet of snow, so we were told. We'd need cold weather clothes, we were told. Have you ever tried to buy an overcoat in the desert? Not easy, believe me. We spent most a day searching, but finally we found a couple of warm jackets.
Anyway we got coats and went to the Canyon. The snow was there. Three feet deep. And the sun was out. And the temperature was about seventy. Everyone was in tee shirts. We abandoned the coats. And our sweaters. Kept our shirts on. Not everyone did.
So, I saw the Canyon. It's a big hole in the ground, high up in the mountains. Very impressive. But I saw enough in ten minutes. Still, Stacey enjoyed it and took loads of photos.
At least I don't have to go back.

Endearingly Irregular

2010-02-05T12:11:00.002Z

I would hate to be predictable but my on-again off-again love affair with blogging continues at the same pace as ever. Except this time I've got an excuse for abandoning ship temporarily: I'm off to Tucson, Arizona on business. Thankfully, Stacey is coming with me this year; company is always welcome on these trips. Apart from buying gems and semi-precious beads we will be taking a side trip to The Grand Canyon. I've been going to the Tucson show for over a decade and this will be my first tourist venture. So, I'll be away from the blog for about twelve days.
Maybe I'll have something interesting to say when I get back, although mostly I only get energised by things that piss me off. However, I've read a couple of wonderful submissions to the magazine lately and one of the Aeon Award winners is one of those stories that I will still be talking about in ten years time: the sort of story that makes you say, "Shit! I wish I'd written that." Keep an eye on the magazine and see if you can spot it.
By the way, I bought the new Eels album (End Times) on the day of release. It inspired me to check out Shootenanny again. Maybe it's time for me to reassess that one. I may have unfairly consigned it to the scrap heap. I'm still waiting for something from Mark Everitt to equal Daisies of the Galaxy. For me.

Rude, Thoughtless and Annoying (Almost as bad as ELP)

2010-01-28T11:10:00.002Z

Over the past seventeen years I have been sent a lot (technically more than two, but a lot more than two... and so on) of fiction submissions for Albedo One magazine. From early on we accepted email submissions because we are out on the borders of civilization (Ireland) and contacting us by post is very expensive. To illustrate the postage problem it costs about five times more postage for us to send out a subscriber's copy of the magazine than it does for Galaxies in France, more than twice the cost of printing an issue, even with all the ancillary costs added on. The postage costs also meant that we were getting a small number of submissions per month (less than a hundred) and we felt more submissions would help to raise the quality of fiction in the magazine. Accepting emails immediately increased the number of submissions and has genuinely contributed to an increase in the quality of stories we have to choose from.
However, I have a couple of observations about email submissions. And both of them, in my mind, relate to care and attention.
The first point is that there is a significantly higher acceptance rate of stories submitted by snail mail. What this suggests to me is that some writers, a lot in fact, take less care with their stories if they are submitting by email. Or maybe they will only send stories they are more confident about by snail mail. Or perhaps the ease of submission means writers are not truly polishing their stories before sending them out. I don't know. It's just a thought backed up by little in the way of evidence. However, I'd be interested in hearing from other editors who accept both snail- and e-mail submissions. Is there a similar correlation of quality in your submitted stories?
My second observation refers directly to the title of this piece (though not Emerson, Lake and Palmer who were merely due a dig) and is aimed directly at writers.
Of late I have been getting a lot (not as much as the previous lots but a significant number all the same) of stories sent by email without even a Dear Sir or Hi at the front, never mind anything resembling a cover letter or even a request that we might read the enclosed story. I have even been sent blank emails with an attachment. These I delete instantly as we state in our guidelines that we do not currently accept attachments. But I'm thinking that in future if writers aren't even bothered to say Hi, or introduce themselves, or show even the slightest sign of investing in the social contract that for centuries has ruled communication, I think I'm going to dispose of these emails also. There is a statistic which suggests we won't be missing any great works of genius as to date none of these unlovely submissions has made it through the process.
So maybe rude equals untalented or maybe the writers who have time to observe the niceties of correspondence are also the ones who take care over their stories. I would be interested in comments from writers and editors alike because, really, I'm just thinking out loud here.
But I am reminded of a writer (in a film) who couldn't understand why his repeatedly frantic letters regarding publication of his book were being ignored. In the end he decided to write a letter which could not be ignored. It began: Dear Bastard...
I sometimes think that no greeting at all is simply shorthand for this.

Bah, humbug anyone?

2009-12-25T00:05:00.003Z

It's the early minutes of Christmas day here in Ireland. I would just like to say how grateful I am for everything we (my family) have. The Christmas tree is almost invisible behind the wall of presents my wife has bought for everyone. I'm looking forward to my daughters coming over tomorrow (later today); having the family together, if only for a little while.
So, although it hasn't been a wonderful year - my insurance broker is ready to disown me after four claims in three months, but he's family so I'm safe for the moment - I still have so much to be thankful for.
I hope all of you have a warm, safe and joyful Christmas.
Count your blessings.

Your Consumer Rights

2009-12-19T15:04:00.003Z

I left my Stereo Amplifier in to be fixed in mid-September. I told them I'd like it done free as it was covered under my consumer rights. They said no. I said fix it anyway and we'll argue the toss later. On the thirteen week anniversary I kind of ran out of patience and gave up on going through the correct channels so I rang and asked for the manager. I told him I'd been speaking to the consumer rights people - they were very helpful and told me to mention the sale of goods act 1980 to let the shop know I was serious. I said the C Rights people told me to forget about repairs and to look for a replacement. This is what we in the retail trade call a big fat lie. Anyway, I was unhappy and wanted my amp back. The manager rang the manufacturers - there's no-one in Ireland who fixes this brand - and they said the amp was awaiting a spare part. They then enquired if I would like a new amp in its stead. After about one millisecond's careful consideration I accepted their offer. So, I've got a new amp. By the way, the old one will be three years of age on December 30th. In the EU you're guaranteed protection against manufacturing faults for two years. In Ireland it's six. So don't mess with us Irish consumers.
Anyway, I bought a vinyl LP while my amp was being fixed, or not. It was Big Star's No. 1 Record. It's recommended in the 1001 records you've got to hear before you die and Big Star have been touted as comparable to sliced bread by Uncut, a music magazine for boys of a certain maturity. I got their greatest hits (best of) on CD a few years back 'cause that was all that was available at the time. But I never really got it. Until now.
First thing played through my new amp was Big Star. How were they never the next big thing, at least? No. 1 Record is absolute brilliance. It defines the power pop genre and blows away most of what came after (though I will still listen to Fountains of Wayne). Yeah, I know, you've never heard of Big Star and couldn't give a monkey's. Or you've heard them and just couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Well, I'm off to the shops to see if they've got either or both of the other two Big Star records.
The Big Star is dead, long live Big Star. Oh, and long live vinyl.

Bob in 3D (or Alias Clark Kent)

2009-12-18T16:58:00.002Z

I had a very strange experience in the cinema yesterday. I took my son to see Avatar. It is a very long movie. I had a very big drink.About two hours in I went to the 'rest room'. When I got back I couldn't see my son momentarily or work out where my seat was. The entire cinema was filled with Clark Kent lookalikes.
I have held onto my 3D spex and will post a photo on Facebook as evidence.
Avatar is about what everyone was saying it would be. But like all James Cameron films it is too long. A judicious half hour off the running time and it would be pretty hard to beat. I enjoyed the 3D experience though it is difficult to say if it actually added to my enjoyment of the film. It may indeed have detracted from it as I was often distracted by the 3D effects.
From a spectacular/epic viewpoint i was great. Storyline was predictable from the off and there were absolutely no surprises in the plot.
To paraphrase Oscar Wilde: Worth seeing but is it worth going to see?
If you are interested in i at all do not wait for the DVD. This needs to be seen on the big screen.

An Open Letter to Neil Clarke and John Scalzi

2009-12-09T19:11:00.003Z

This is in response to posts regarding low paying fiction markets in SF magazines.
Well, I guess it was inevitable that I would disagree fundamentally with your post, Neil, and with Von Post ( a coincidentally aptly named poster of a comment on Neil's post). As an editor who does not pay professional rates to the slush pile, that is inevitable. But I am also a writer who has sold his work for pennies and been happy to do so for the exposure and the possible feedback and the chance to be seen and read and for reasons too many to enumerate (thank God for the spell checker on this thing).
But, like life and business, there is a food chain in the marketplace and everyone should have a chance to find a place in it. Why should amateurs and wannabees be paid the same as professionals. They aren't in any other business. When you're starting out people don't want to pay you the full rate until you have proved yourself. It's only natural. Also, there are businesses that can only afford to pay minimum wage. This may be because of profit margins in the industry or overseas competition or whatever. But their failure to pay top whack doesn't mean they are not doing a valid or even vital job in their market or within a given economy. So lighten up guys. If there was no-one paying low rates then there would be no premium market for the big fish to inhabit. Surely everyone being paid the same rate smacks of (I'll call it) socialism. But everyone is not equal in our Western society. And I believe that the best people should get the best pay. And just because someone doesn't offer the best pay rates does not mean that their market lacks validity or worth.
There are a lot of e-zines out there who pay pro rates. And that's fine - even if they do not present the writer with an actual product to hold in his hand and to archive. I happen to like hard copy and believe it has a value. That is why Albedo One has remained as a hard copy item even though the costs of production are outrageous and it costs more to post a copy from Ireland to the outside world than it does to actually purchase some magazines. But people like what we do (some of them) and some writers feel it is worthwhile to support our efforts even though our rates of pay are poor.
We have been struggling to keep our hard-copy magazine afloat in difficult circumstances in a minute market (about four million people live in Ireland) and we do it for no pay - yes we're amateurs - because we believe in what we're doing. I'm sorry so many people, writers and non-writers feel so strongly negative about low paying magazines. You have not shaken my resolve, but you have left me feeling saddened and absolutely unappreciated.

Let there be light.

2009-12-04T16:18:00.002Z

A short update: in September my shop, Yellow Brick Road, had two fires in quick succession. Anyone can have one. We've been operating out of next door's basement in the meanwhile. Three weeks ago our electrician rang ESB Networks who own the cables and applied for a re-connection. So far, so standard. The person (spelled b***h, or worse) in charge of the north of Dublin city - possibly she was having a bad day or a bad week - decided that instead of being re-connected she would require us to institute a new connection. The various builders, electricians and insurance people involved in the process, with decades of experience, had never heard of such a thing. Instead of being connected on the day of application or the next day, at the latest, a new connection would take TWELVE weeks. Which would include, of course, the entire Christmas period. It would also mean our temporary arrangement next door would time out and we would have nowhere to trade. Which means no cash coming in. Which means six jobs down the toilet. But the person (spelled b***h) in ESB Networks was fully prepared to let this happen.
So we started saying, half joking, to everyone we met, 'You got a contact in the ESB?' And visiting a sick friend Stacey asked another visitor - (Saint) Michael - that question and he said, 'Yes.' and he contacted the guy on the spot. I emailed details of what was going on to Michael and he sent them to his friend.
Tuesday morning, eight-thirty I got a call from an ESB Engineer. He wanted to meet our electrician. They met at lunctime. He asked for some changes to be made and made an appointment to re-connect us on Friday. All we had to do was apply (again) to be re-connected. I did that Tuesday at five forty-five.
Wednesday morning at eight thirty I get a call from another, different ESB engineer. 'Is you electrician on the premises? I was hoping to do this call first thing.'
Wednesday the person/b***h rings our insurance loss adjustor all sweetness and light to ask if everything is going okay.
This afternoon (Friday) the lights in Yellow Brick Road were turned on for the first time since September 11th (no, not THE September 11th).
In Ireland there is an old cliche that says, 'It's not what you know but who you know.' In this, as in all things, the cliche proves true. So thanks to all those who wished us well during our 'interesting' times. We will be open for business in our usual premises in about a week. Watch the Yellow Brick Road fanpage or website www.yellowbrickroad.ie for details.
Wednesday

At Last

2009-11-26T22:21:00.003Z

I've been trying to post this review for a while but the blog wouldn't let me. Is it because it is a shameless promotion for the magazine I edit (with friends)?

Anyway, it originally appeared on the Western Writer's Centre website. That's in Galway, Ireland by the way.

ALBEDO MAGAZINE NEW HAVEN FOR EUROPEAN WRITING

The Dublin-based Irish journal of alternative and explorative literature, Albedo 1, has broken very new ground by making contacts with European masters and apostles of imaginative fiction and producing an issue which features some examples of their work. Australia hasn’t been left out, either. The Editorial explains all: “We thought about the amount of excellent fiction that must be out there in other languages, even if we’re simply looking at Europe. So we talked to the Poles and the Germans and the French and the Swedes, along with a couple of Americans . . . .” Now it would be hard indeed to get any contemporary Irish literature magazine that would devote this kind of energy to escaping the stifling and unmoving satellite of Irish writing. There are reviews, interviews, short stories, even one by Sarah Joan Berniker, whose work has appeared in Playboy. Notice too of the illustrious French journal, Galaxies (www.galaxies-sf.com) The cover art is mind-blowing. Submissions and enquiries to bobn@yellowbrickroad.ie Why in God’s name isn’t the Arts Council, who fund magazines whose repetitiveness and predictability make them akin to journals kept by inmates in someone’s guest-house, fund this exciting and richly-diverse magazine? Well, I have a story about the why not of it all, and siffice it to say that the Arts Council of the Republic do not take speculative fiction seriously. They don’t see it as literature, dontcha know. One Arts Council personality some years ago declared it would be more than their job was worth to advance the argument. In fact our Council rather ridicule it, which indicates, in truth, that they’d never have funded Orwell to write 1984 or Stoker to complete Dracula. Yet for years they’ve had the neck to keep a portrait of a famous alternative fiction writer and solid Dubliner hanging in their foyer at Merrion Square. Safe to do so, one supposes, because he’s dead and therefore reasonably unlikely to look for funding.

Albedo 1- Issue 37. €5.95. Pbck with card covers in colour. 2, Post Road, Lusk, Co. Dublin, Ireland. ISSN: 0791 - 8534 63pp

Cheating Scum

2009-11-19T11:22:00.002Z

This is a post about sportsmanship. anyone not interested in fair play should log off now. Unfortunately those not interested in football will probably also bail out.
However, it's not really football I'm going to moan about, though I will be referencing it... a lot.
Last night Ireland played France in Paris in a (football) World Cup qualifier. We were beaten as usual, And we got beaten by a bad refereeing decision. Sour grapes, I hear you think. Well, yes and no. But the goal that put France through was scored after two, not merely one, handballs, an offside in the run up and a possible foul on an Irish defender. The other two incidents can happen, but a guy handling the ball twice - it hit his wrist then he controlled it with his hand - should never go unseen by the officials. And there are a lot of people who feel it would not have gone unseen had it occurred inthe French box. This is not a claim of prejudice on the ref's part merely that he succumbed eventually to the incredible pressure exerted on everyone concerned by FIFA. They made it very clear with every action that they wanted France to qualify. It was probably not the referee rahter the linesman who succumbed to the pressure. The (Irish) players all thought he had a good view of the incident. But he chickened out. The referee had only just refused (correctly - Anelka, the cheating Chelsea ~~~~ dived) a French penalty claim and disallowed a goal for an obvious off side. But he did't see the hand ball.
It was suggested on Irish TV that the player - one Thierry Henry - might have been asked by the referee if he had handled. In other sports players admit to breaking the rules and will sportingly penalise themselves. Henry glanced fearfully towards the lineman - there's a great shot of his horrified/worried face just as the goal goes in - but afterwards he smeared an enormous smug grin over his self-satisfied mug and even claimed o one Irish player that he had not handled, though he later admitted it, insisting that it was accidental. I've played the game. You know when you've handled and you know that although your hand may be drawn instinctively toward sth eball, when I played you would try to stop yourself. Nowadays the dishonesty is so ingrained in the game that even the pundits have accepted that cheating is a vital part of their SPORT. You hear them all the time. "Oh the lad touched him. He had to go down." No, he didn't. Yes you have to fall down when th eother played kickes the legs from under you. But not if he brushes past in an attempt to go for the ball. Throwing yourself to the floor as though shot by a sniper is called CHEATING, in any man's language. But you feel that if a player didn't throw himself to the floor looking for a penalty - when he's got no chance to score but someone has waved a foot near him - then that plyer's manager and club might just fine him a couple of weeks wages. FOR NOT CHEATING. You listen to the ex-players who are now managers or commentators or analysts (yes the word anal is deeply entrenched in there) and all of them will agree that ifyou're touched in any way when in the penalty box it is fair to look for a penalty. it's not. And it's making people sick of the game. That and the way players treat the game. It is not a sport. They are now entertainers. Superstars. Celebrities. So it's all about money.
In the final analysis, that's why Ireland went out of the World Cup last night. France are a bigger draw on television. Worth more money to FIFA and the TV companies. And reall, that's what sport is all about isn't it?
What happened to the sheer joy of taking part? Very soon football will only be ;ayed for money. There will be no-one left who wants to play for the plweasure of it, or for the exercise, or for the social aspects of the game. Because they (which used to be all-important) are now totally unimportant to the game.
What game?

A river in Egypt

2009-11-05T12:44:00.001Z

Writing has been much on my mind of late, as always. Unfortunately not much has been hitting the page. Yet again life has jumped up and stolen all my free time. At the moment I’m living a Chinese curse – May you live in interesting times. For me interesting is not the half of it right now.

Three months ago my car was set on fire in the driveway of my home. Somebody carefully places a plastic 7 Up bottle on the bonnet (hood in America) and set it alight. I’m pretty sure I know who it was and the Gardai pretty much agree with me. So far, so bad.

Eleven weeks ago my business premises (a shop called Yellow Brick Road) went on fire. Twice. In the space of three days. The second time the Gardai declared it a crime scene, not surprisingly. Fortunately it was quite obviously an electrical fault that caused both of them. Otherwise I’d be writing this from Mountjoy jail.

So, over the past three months I have done almost no writing. But I have done quite a lot of thinking about writing.

So I got to thinking about writer’s block and thinking about writing rather than writing has to be one of the most effective definitions of writer’s block I can think of. I would love to hear other writers’ definitions and anecdotes as WB is something that every writer must fear, if they think about it at all.

But you’ve got a great excuse, I hear you say. There was the car faire and the Gardai and buying a replacement car and the fires in the shop and putting your business back together and all of that stuff.

And you’re right. All of that is valid. But it didn’t eat up all my available time, it simply swallowed all my head-space. I could have sat down ad wrote a short story or maybe even a book review on several occasions during my interesting times. But the point is that I didn’t. Even when I had the time and a touch of motivation. And I have to take responsibility for that.

I don’t claim to have WB but that may be because I am in denial. What I am going to do, however, is take responsibility for the fact hat I haven’t been writing and say that it is one hundred percent my fault. I am in control of my life. If I want to write I will.

Look, Ma, I’m doin’ it right now.

Farenheit 451 (no relation)

2009-08-27T18:29:00.002+01:00

As fire is much on my mind this week it is a coincidence that those nice people (grovel) at Harper Collins sent me a graphic novelization of Ray Bradbury's Fareheit 451 to review.
It must be well over tthirty years since I read the original novella and then the expanded (short) novel version. god, that makes me feel old. But it is one of those novels where the idea possibly transcended the actual work itself sand left an indelible mark on everyone who read it and, eventually, on society itself. I guess it's one of those books that everyone feels they've read, or possibly should have read, though i wonder how relevant it is to society today. Perhaps there is an internet version waiting to be written.
The graphic version - The Authorized Adaptation - is by Tim Hamilton, with an introduction by Bradbury himself. Relying on memory it seems to be a faithful interpretation and even maintains that period feel SF of this era (forties/fifties - the first version was written n the forties, the rest in the fifties). And i'm still trying to work out whether I like it that way or not. At first I thought the artist/adapter had missed a chance to sybtly update the piece and make it more relevant to today. the I thought tha tit was more effective as a period piece. Now, I'm not completely sure. I'd love to hear from others who have read it as to how they feel. In the end i was a little disappointed, mostly because Idon't think the story is particularly visual in conception or in execution. This si a book about words - surely the very antithesis of agraphic novel. But that is possibly merely my own prejudice.
For those who don't know the plot - check out Wickipedia, it's essentially the same as the book.
I guess this is a pretty good (and painless) introdcution to what might be considered one of the true classics of the genre. Unfortunately I feel that it does not bring enough to the table in an of itself to make it truly worthwhile. Though I wonder how much more i might have taken from it had I not been so familiar with the story already. And I must also wonder how any of the target market could have avoided the essential details of the original which seem to be ingrained in the very molecules of the air - a bit like 1984 really.
(Published by Harper, Voyager. paperback, 150 pages, £10.99)

Fire Sale

2009-08-21T15:18:00.003+01:00

Anyone want a car, slightly burned. Check out the photos on my Facebook page.
Last night I got up to check noises outside the house - at the behest of Stacey. Holy Crap, Batman! My car was on fire. According to the police someone walked into my driveway and, not a dozen feet as the crow flies from where I sleep, poured petrol over my car and put a match to it.
Fortunately we got everyone out of the house safely and the fire brigade arrived before the flames spread to the interior and the highly flammable upholstery, or even the petrol tank.
I have a theory but it is extremely slanderous or libelous or whatever. But the police have taken away the remains for forensic examination in detail. They seem to think there was something more than malice in the act. There was also coincidence.
I bought the car less than six months back. The dealer has had the car for six weeks of that time trying to fix a problem. They lied to me about significant details prior to purchase. I have evidence. The police told me they are prosecutable. They had agreed, much to my surprise, to replace the car. I was due to bring the car back this afternoon.
Coincidence or what?

Con Fever

2009-08-11T23:35:00.002+01:00

Finally back home at last and working on a fine case of jet lag.
Had a ball at Worldcon. Met lots of good folks but it just gave me a taste for more regular Worldcon attendance. Unfortunately I won't be able to afford to go to Australia next year. So it's going to be two years before my next one. I've got withdrawal symptoms already.
Any suggestions?

Size Matters

2009-08-09T20:13:00.002+01:00

Last night at 8.00 p.m. I sat on a panel called Size Doesn't Matter to discuss how small press operations are filling a niche for beautiful editions or unusual content. Most of the audience had a familiar look about them. In fact over half the audience had eaten dinner with me directly beforehand.
Despite that it was a lively and interesting panel. Jacob Wiesman (apologies for the spelling if necessary) from Tachyon Publications told us about his latest product - a novella by Jim Morrow called Stumbling Towards Hiroshima. The premise sounded fascinating: the US government during WWII ran a secret project to breed fire brreding dragon from genetically altered lizards. Unfortunatley they were too docile to use as a weapon so the gov. hired an actor - based on Lon Chaney Junior - to don a Godzilla suit and kick the shit out of a mocked up Tokyo to scare the crap out of the enemy.
Also on the pael were Ben Jeapes, formerly of Big Engine and Ron Drummond whose company, Incunabula, are producing a 25th anniversay edition of Little, Big by the incomparable John Crowley. This edition will feature 300 illustrations adapted from the art of Peter Milton and will be cloth bound on acid-free paper. It sounds beautiful and at least two of the Albedo team will be buying copies when available. The bad news is that it will cost $95.00 plus a lot of postae - the book weighs in at seven pounds apparently. It is also unlikely to be ready for a while. It has been in proscess for six years so far. Check it out at www.littlebig25.com.
Then of course we went to the Delta hotel to party. I may be wrong but I think that for the first time I went to a party at Worldcon to which I was actually invited. Will wonders never cease. The host was Claude Lalumiere whgose latest latest collection, Objects of Worship was being launched by CZP. Lots of free beer and great company. Claude is a wonderful host and may actually be part -Irish. He certainly drank like it. Also there was Neil Clarke who chatted long into the night and introduced me to Mary Robinette Kowal winner of the 2008 Campbell Award.
Robert Silverberg dropped by but I unfortunately did not get the opportunity to speak to him. Probably just as well as i may have been a bit the worse for wear. Hard to believe, but true.

Semi-Prozine Hugo Saved

2009-08-08T19:22:00.002+01:00

Congratulations to Neil Clarke of Clarkesworld on an excellent campaign, carried through to its ultimate result. At this morning's business meeting of the WSFS (of which, being a member of Worldcon, I am a member) there was a vote on the amendment to the WSFS constitution that would cancel the Hugo category for semi-prozine. And it was kicked out. So the semi-prozine Hugo is safe for the time being. I think everyone was in agreement that the category needed to be reviewed and revised, and a committee was set up (just what the world needs right now) to make reccommendations for amending the category.
More importantly there was a disaster at the party hotel last night. Too many punters turned up and security stopped access to the party floors of the hotel. We arrived late and joined the queue, but we're not great at standing in line. So we went to the bar. By the time we finished in the bar it was too late for partying. But today we will not be stopped.
Yesterdays panels were on What Fans don't understand about Publishing and Writing Across Boundaries. The first was on distribution and marketing and turned out to be very interesting (surprisingly). I learned a lot about the physical distribution of books that I didn't know and we discussed newer distribution methods - mostly electronic, through the internet.
Writing across boundaries was moderated by Melinda Snodgrass who may be the best - certainly the most friendly and least arrogant - moderator I have experienced. I look forward to sitting on panels with her in future. Unlike most, she was more interested in getting across the message of the panel than hearing the sound of her own voice.
Coming soon - Size Doesn't Matter.

Worldcon

2009-08-07T17:48:00.002+01:00

So I've travelled halfway across the Western world to Canada and last night we discovered that there are very few vegetarian-friendly restaurants in Montreal. We even tried one thaqt was mentioned in the con restaurant guide as not having much vegetarian food. They had none and almost laughed at our enquiry. But we got fed. Eventually. Even the vegetarian.
Then we went to the Tor room party. Met Bill Fawcett and his lovely wife, Jody Lynn Nye, whom I haven't seen in years - not since a long-ago night in the (now sadly defunct)Tree of Idleness restaurant in Bray.
Bill introduced me to Larry Niven but unfortunately I'm not important enough for the likes of him. Or maybe he's gust a grumpy old ******* (how many letters in person?).
We also met up with Colin Harvey who is not yet too important for the likes of Albedo One. But he might be soon. Will he still drink with us when he's a superstar? We'll still be drinking anyway.
Two panels this morning. One at the ungodly hour of nine a. m. on editors who write and how it afects them. Good panel, though Mike Resnick found it too early in the morning to show.
Next up was a time travel panel. But its focus was on movies and television. I love movies and television but I really knew very little about the specifics of the relevant movies. So I spoke off the point as usual and made inappropriate jokes.
Two more panels later on . I'll update tomorrow.

See Facebook

2009-08-05T21:28:00.003+01:00

Sorry folks, I'm a complete nube at this blogging lark. I cannot work out how to get a scan of the cover up here. So check me out on Facebook. It'll be worth it. It's a nice cover. Honest!

Stop me and Buy One

2009-08-05T21:13:00.003+01:00

Most attendees at Worldcon will already be in Montreal. I, however, will not be departing for the con until tomorrow morning VERY EARLY. Perhaps it is for the best. We had planned on releasing a sneak preview of Albedo One issue 37 and I didn't get my hands on it until Tuesday. Cutting it a bit fine, I know, but we will have it in Montreal for anyone who is interested. It features a wonderful story from Robert Reed, whom you will all know, and another piece by an author whose first language is not English - Offline by Gustavo Bondoni from Argentina. I must also give a diversity nod to T D Edge's A most Notorious Woman because it features a character from Irish history who may be new to most of our overseas readers - that woudl be most of our readers period.
See you in Montreal.
Stop me and buy one.

Albedo One at Worldcon

2009-07-29T18:05:00.008+01:00

When: Sun 11.00
Location: P-524C
Title: Albedo One
Session ID: 572

Hopefully this item will be attended by more than just me and Dave and John and Frank (also known as Team Albedo). We'd love to see any of you there to discuss small press and magazine publishing in general and, obviously, Albedo One in particular. But it does help to have people to talk to at this sort of thing. So, don't be shy. Come along and talk to the Paddies. We'll probably be hungover (I think there's a line in our visa that requires it) but we'll do our best to be friendly, entertaining and informative.
Honest!

The Finns Are Coming

2009-07-29T15:15:00.002+01:00

The Finnish SF community (thank you Anne Leinonen) have put us in contact with the winner of their annual short story contest. So I am currently in dialogue with Mari Saario concerning translation of her story, Kenkänaula. I must ask her what that translates as. Hopefully we will have it for an issue of Albedo One early in 2010.

Invasion of the Plante of the Anti-Poets

2009-06-23T17:47:00.002+01:00

And so we return to the subject of man's inhumanity to man or it may merely be the sheer insensitivity and selfishness that I feel is on display daily on the streets of Dublin. As usual, I blame the lat lamented Celtic Tiger for all our ills. This is simply because I felt Ireland was a nicer place before it and we were a nicer people. We have lost sight of the important things in life. I held a door open for a woman a while ago and she sort of shouldered me out of the way so I wouldn't let it slam on her boyfriend. I guess I'm an idiot to expect at least a thank you.

Priorities
Oh my goodness you're having a heart attack.
Hold on a moment my cellphone's ringing.

Paddling My Own Canoe

2009-06-23T17:40:00.002+01:00

I guess the time has come to give up on the Art's Council. I still haven't heard anything from them bar the perfunctory and substantially ill-informed email they sent me. So I will now pursue the EU all on my lonesome.
Also, regarding a foreign language Hugo, if there is anyone out there who is a member of this year's Worldcon in Montreal and would like to discuss the idea, I suggest that you suggest it as a panel item - as a member of the con you have that facility. If nothing elase I think it could make for an interesting panel discussion, which is surely what the con should want.

Return to the Planet of the Anti-Poets

2009-06-02T14:18:00.003+01:00

It's been a while since I did any poet-bashing. In fact, I've been very soft on the buggers for a while. So it's time for another episode in Why I'm an Anti-Poet (with apologies to any real people who are poets, including Sex W. Johnston).
A while ago I was at a literary event in the wilds of Galway which I may have mentioned in passing before. Sitting in a room full of pets, reading their poems aloud, everyone politely clapping each reading as it would be in no-one's interest to bring a critical spotlight to bear on the affair, I struggled to stay awake despite the endless provocation of the poetry.
I chatted with a really nice poet whosat nervously waiting to read. The reading was appalling and the poetry beyond awful but the applause was the same as for the headlining act - who actually seemed to be a real poet with a real book to his name.
And once again I was inspired to scribble a few lines on the back of a beer mat for the sake of posterity.

A Death in the Family?

Drone on, you bastards.
I'm only sleeping.

Star Trek - At Last

2009-06-02T14:14:00.003+01:00

I finally got to see the new Star trek film. I was never a big fan of any of the series (plural) or particularly of the previous run of movies, but I have to say that this one is excellent. It is as much what you would want from a Trek movie as the First LOTR film was to that fan base. Does JJ Abrams have a magic touch? you can bet that the hype and hoopla around his next project will be immense. If he delivers next time he might genuinely be The Next Big Thing.

Albedo One

2009-06-02T14:10:00.002+01:00

I saw the proof of the next issue of Albedo One on Saturday. The cover looks great. And we have a wonderful cover lined up for the following issue, which we hope to bring to Worldcon. Any of you artists out there fancy a shot at the cover of a Quality magazine, give us a shout.

The Arts Council Keep Digging

2009-05-26T15:16:00.003+01:00

So, at last, on Friday I got a reply from the Arts Council in which they thanked me for me application. If they had read my email they would know I made no application. So obviously, even though it was only five lines long, they didn't even bother to read it. In their arrogance they supposed it to be an appeal for funds and treated it with the disdain with whcih they treat all such requests. They will be in touch, they said. So keep watching for the next six months and I'll let you know if they ever bother to follow up.

Arts Council Nil

2009-05-19T12:10:00.002+01:00

So six days ago I contacted the EU (a vast bureaucracy which cares about no-one and nothing according to many) and got a reply in minutes. On the same day, as a follow up, I contacted the Irish Arts Council, as suggested by the EU, for assistance. I'm still waiting t hear back from them.
Could it be that I am interested in literary pursuits? I only know directly of two groups in Ireland who received funding from the Arts Council last year for writing-related activities. The Irish Writers Centre in Dublin and the Western Writers Centre in Galway. And guess what? Both of them had their entire funding withdrawn this year. I know the biggest Irish book publishers get support and a literary magazine called the Stinging Fly, and they probably still get the money. But the fact is that without that money both of these endeavours would cease.
Which is one reason that Albedo One has decided that we will never accept Arts Council funding. Once you've had it you cannot survive without it. So we'll soldier on without their money.
But all I'm looking for is some adivce on how to obtain EU funding for a trans-national project - we still do't want Irsh money and they still couldn't give a monkeys about giving us a hand.
And you know, Irish tax-payers (that includes all of the Albedo One team) are paying the wages of these fine upstanding un-fireable civil servants. I don't know what it's like where you live but in Ireland civil servants can only be fired directly by the Government Minister in whose department they work. Maybe if they were answerable to the public OR EVEN THEIR MANAGERS for performance, they might be a little keener to be seen in pursuit of their functions. God forbid the public should see them as anything other than a joke. In the sixites (I think) Milo O'Shea played a civil servant in a TV series called Tales of the Lazy Acre. How come the ineptitude and laziness of our civil servants is still a ***king joke decades later. At least back then we were a third world country. How come such an important sector of our society still has a third world outlook?
By the way, the title of the piece relates to the score that the Arts Council would receive if they were competing in a Eurovision style contest where the audience phoned in their votes.

The Arts Council (Ireland)

Helping starving artists?
Maintaining the status quo.

Format Query

2009-05-18T17:50:00.002+01:00

Those wonderful people at Albedo One (am I allowed say that as I am one of them?) are forging ahead with new issues of the magazine. There is a proposal on the table for an all fiction issue and I thought I would ask a question of you all - if there are indeed any of you out there.
Many of us collect all sorts of things and I am assured that there are faithful collectors of Albedo One - I even know some of them personally - who have every issue right back to number 1. But just as a general sort of enquiry I wondered if anyone thought it would be a negative if there was a change of format for an all fiction issue would people object or feel miffed by it if, for instance, the all fiction issue came out as a paperback book instead of the usual A4 magazine. WE ahve already changed format once from A5 to A4 but that was permanent and considered by most, if not all, a great improvement. This would only be for one issue.
I remember when I did a lot of reviewing I was particularly miffed by Gene Wolfe's Book of the Long Sun. It was sent to me in Hardback to review and pretty much each of the volumes was a different size. I know it is petty, but they just didn't look like a set oon the shelf. And as I was reviewing 'for the love of it' my only payment was the books.
Anyway, if anyone has a thought on the subject, or can teach me anythign from experience, I'd be glad to hear from them.

Little Feat - Return From the Planet of the Anti-Poets

2009-05-14T23:35:00.006+01:00

Last night I went, with Stacey, to see Little Feat at the Academy in Abbey Street, Dublin. Okay, so no Lowell George, but then that wasn't a surprise. But they were really good and they played a lot of the old numbers. The sound was a bit muddy - not much separation so everything got mashed together a bit - but I listened to Dixie Chicken (2nd album) and you know, their sound was like that on record. They did a couple of extended workouts and an absolutely magnificent version of Willin', the only slow number all night.
Unfortunately we had to sit through a warm-up band; a couple of guys with guitars actually. At the start the singer announced that they would be with us for seven songs. Can't be bad, we said to one another. By the end of the third song my mind had turned to thoughts of blood, running in the aisles, even though there were no aisles, but I needed something to think about to shut out the pain. If these guys had brought their guitars to your party and played this shit you'd have chucked them out. Or at least insisted that they play old Simon and Garfunkel numbers - Hey! so everyone can sing along. You gotta be polite 'cos artists can be sensitive. Which, I guess, is why people kept clapping each song. Though by the sixth you couldn't really hear the guitars or the words above the shouted conversations. But still, they clapped, and still the singer said thanks after each song. I wonder if he thought that it was a good gig for him? Should we have told the truth and chucked stuff at the stage? I don't know.
I know that no-one hesitates to reject my stories if they think they're not good enough. And they're not always polite about it. I remember when I worked on FTL, a previous Irish SF magazine, and we had the temerity to suggest that a piece of art that was intended as a cover might have some changes made. The artist went apes**t and I thought to myself, it's rubbish but we're still not rejecting it. If only writers could afford to be this precious. But, as a writer, I appreciate the honesty with which I am treated by editors and I hope that writers appreciate my honesty as an editor - if Albedo One publishes your story it's because we think it's good, or even better, 'cos good isn't always enough these days.
Anyway, I felt a fraud clapping away for a couple of guys I thought were crap. Am I a bad person for thinking that? Answers on a post, please. So I wrote another ***king anti-poem which goes something like this...

An Audience With Little Feat (and friends)?

Sipping my beer,
Clapping at the end of the songs
With all the other frauds.
We should call ourselves Little Dicks.

Aeon Award Winner in Translation

2009-05-13T13:49:00.002+01:00

The winner of the inaugural Aeon Award for short stories (2005), My Marriage by Julian West, is to be published in French by Galaxies magazine.
The fourth Aeon Award is currently running with a top prize of €1000 and, it would seem, exposure to a wider international audience. Entry costs a paltry €7.00 and the second quarterly judging will be upon us before you can say Spider Robinson (end of June). Check out the rules at www.albedo1.com and give it a go. You never know, it could be the first step on the road to fame and fortune.

EU at the speed of light.

2009-05-13T13:30:00.003+01:00

Philip K Dick wrote a short story about the postal service in which an Earthman discovered the wider alien community through the postal service - he discovered that the further away the address on the letter, the quicker the response.
The EU got back to me about funding for translators almost before I had hit send. Or so it seemed. One of their recommendations was that I contact he Irish Arts Council, who are the local cultural contact, for assistance. That was yesterday. I'm less than ten miles from the offices of the Irish Arts Council and hundreds from Brussels. Naturally the Irish Arts Council has yet to respond.
Maybe Philip K Dick had a point.

Chancing My Arm

2009-05-12T15:18:00.002+01:00

My Albedo One colleague, Roelof Goudriaan, sent me a link to an article on translation in the EU. I read it then followed one of the links in the article, and then another and so on. Unfortunately I did not find what I was looking for - details on EU funding for literary translations - so I resorted to clicking the 'contact us' button.
I've set out the Albedo One scheme for a system to translate stories into other languages and asked if there is any EU funding available.
Watch this space.

Interesting Fact Number 2057B

2009-05-11T20:24:00.003+01:00

Last year I bought a CD called The Trials of Van Occupanther by a new(ish?) band called Midlake. Uncut Magazine (absolutely spot on for boys of a certain age) put a track from the album on their free CD one month and I was impressed enough to speculate a few sheckels. Most of you who are going to mirror this foolishness have probably done so already, so I'm probably not going to lose them any sales. However I do think that the CD is a bit samey - pick any track and it sounds pretty much like any other track.
One thing the reviews agreed on was that it was a throwback to the 70s. But I didn't realise how much of a throwback until I bought an LP (that's vinyl, baby) on ebay called Manassas, by Steve Stills and some mates. Take a listen to track one, side three of Manassas - It Doesn't Matter is the name of the track. It's Midlake. It's The Trials of Van Occupanther. It was all said in 1971. And a lot more concisely. I just put on the Manassas album to check that I wasn't imagining things. It's uncanny. I wonder what song they'll use as the template for their next album?
Just thought some of you might be interested.

See, Hear?

2009-05-11T20:16:00.003+01:00

Despite the poor reviews I went to see Wolverine. It passed a couple of hours in a pleasant way but the reviews were right, it's not really up to scratch. And Hugh Jackman coasted through it on auto-pilot. That's two movies I've seen him in recently in which he was less than wonderful. I also, as punishment for some sin in a past life I feel, went to see Australia as a SO-CALLED FRIEND WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS BUT YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE YOU B......D recommended it. It was the greatest waste of my time since Batman And Robin, and that says a lot. My backside was aching by the end of it. Have you ever noticed that the pain in your nether regions is inversely proportionate to the quality of the movie?

Beneath The Planet of theAnti-Poets

2009-05-07T11:34:00.003+01:00

Yesterday my wife, Stacey, flew to the UK. As usual she travelled by Ryanir as we have been for several years now due to their low fares. However, Ryanair won't be the first site she checks in future and may not even make the list.
Five minutes before boarding she was queuing at the boarding gate behind an eighty-year-old lady. A uniformed jobsworth from Ryanair approached the old lady and informed her that she could only bring one piece of hand luggage on board and she would have to do something with her duty free. Now the woman had several bags of duty free - presents for her family of chocolate and booze and the usual duty free junk. There was no way she could fit it into her carry-on bag and she looked helplessly at the official.
"I don't make the rules, I'm merely carrying them out," she said, then suggested that the old lady should distribute the chocolate and booze about her person - "Under you coat," was the exact phrase.
What is the point in this? She would be carrying one bag but bringing the same weight aboard, no matter how the load was distributed.
Other passengers backed up the lady, who asked why she had been encouraged to buy duty free if she was not entitled to carry it aboard. One gentleman, an Australian, was more vociferous than the rest and demanded that the old lady be left alone and allowed onto the plane. The jobsworth insisted she didn't make the rules and repeated her suggestion regarding the duty free and the old lady's clothing.
Next, the jobsworth turned her attention to my wife, stating that Stacey's carry-on bag was too big and pointing at a measuring device. The bag was slightly bigger than the dimensions but very light. She redistributed some gear from the front pocket and this changed the dimensions sufficiently to pass the measurement test.
While Stacey was doing this the Australian man asked the official why she was hassling Stacey as there were plenty of passengers in the queue who had bigger bags. The old lady was still looking lost and increasingly distressed. The jobsworth insisted she would not be able to get onto the plane unless she got rid of her extra bags. The Australian demanded that the old lady be left alone and be allowed to board. Two more Ryanair functionaries appeared and asked the man to step out of the queue. They told him that if he did not stop causing trouble he would not be allowed to board. So Stacey and several other passengers said they would refuse to board the plane unless both the man and the old lady were permitted aboard. When the flight was called no-one moved. The attendants called for people to board but nobody at the head of the queue was prepared to approach the gate.
Unfortunately one weasel (Stacey's description) pushed his way through the crowd and marched toward the plane. Once the line had been crossed the rest of the crowd broke ranks and pushed through like sheep. Eventually the Australian and the old lady were also allowed on board.
However, I just thought that the description of the events and the way the vociferous Australian gentleman was treated smacked of Nazi thuggery. Is this what things have come to in the pursuit of buck?
Obviously Ryanair's low fares business model is no longer working, or possibly it is just not producing the level of profits required. So Ryanir is now attempting to load extra charges onto its passengers at every hand's turn. Apparently we will soon be required to load our own luggage onto the plane. What are the security implications of this? I would certainly favour loading my own luggage if I wished to get a bomb on board - I'd hate to trust a delicate timing device to careless baggage handlers.
I for one will be prepared to pay an extra twenty or thirty euro on each flight in order to avoid the fascist thuggery and I hope there are plenty more like me. Ryanair do not deserve the support of decent people if they do not know how to treat their customers with dignity. But if we are prepared to put up with their contempt then we deserve it.

Sheep Flights

Fascists bleat,
I was only following orders.

The Deafening Silence - Shattered

2009-05-07T10:47:00.006+01:00

Wow! Not one but two Brazillian writers have been in touch - see the original Deafening Silence post - offering their help in getting Brazillian SF into Albedo One. This is fantastic, though a little outside our original remit. The magazine's motto is, however, Things Change, it's on our masthead, and so the translation project will change and grow in line with the contributions of fans and writers no matter where they are - as long as they speak enough English to communicate with me.
I do feel that I need to re-state our original aims - to encourage other European writers/groups/magazines/national organisations to begin the process of designing a system in which fiction can be translated into other languages. Albedo One is prepared to show how it can be achieved, but we need the support of others.
I was informed at Eurocon in Copenhagen that if we could arrange for stories to be published and translated into four different European languages that there is EU provision for paying the translators, so the magazines would not have to expend badly needed funds on the translations. So, what we are actually looking for is other magazines and national groups to enter a system in which the best story from their individual countries would be published in the participating magazines every year. If the magazines have a quarterly schedule it would mean putting one translated story into each issue. It would mean a small reduction in editorial choice and power but I believe it would be worth it in order to establish a distinct European voice in SF.
Imagine, if you will, that you have just been named as winner of the (for instance) Irish national SF short story contest and part of your prize is publication, not only in your own country, but in four others, in four different languages. I don't know about you, but it would give me a bit of a buzz - might even encourage me to enter in the first place.

Greed Culture

2009-05-03T12:58:00.003+01:00

There was, up to today, a huge garden shed (ten by sixteen feet) in my back garden. But it needed to be replaced and we have bought something different to replace it. In the contract for the new 'shed' I noticed an item - 1800 euro for removal of the old shed. Now I may be crazy but I thought that this was JUST A BIT EXCESSIVE (a friend told me that using caps was a bit like shouting).
I cast my mind back to when we changed our central heating from oil to gas. The changeover left us with a redundant oil tank in the back garden, So I consulted the Yellow Pages and telephoned a SPECIALIST in tank removal. The bloke hemmed and hawed for a while saying things like, "you're on the other side of the city." and "it'll take two men most of the day," and "we can fit you in next week, maybe," and other comments that raised warning flags. "700 quid," he said, without sounding in the least embarrassed. That was pre-euro and would be over 1000 euro in today's money. So I made another call. "I can be there in the morning," this one said. "Eighty quid." It took him and his mate twenty minutes to remove the tank..
So, I knocked the 1800 euro for shed removal off the quote and said I'd get rid of it myself. Those that know me will be aware of my aversion to DIY and physical labour. So I put the shed on ebay, sold it for 156 euro and the buyer is dismantling it as I type this out.
You know, if the quote had been three or four hundred euro I might have let it slip by. How long is it going to take tradesmen in Ireland to realise the gravy train pulled out of the station last year and we're not on board any more. If they weren't so greedy there was a nice little earner in it for them. Thank goodness they weren't that smart. By my calculations I'm up by 1956 euro and it's gong to take a while to wipe the grin off my face.

A Result

2009-05-03T12:51:00.003+01:00

Thanks to Cheryl Morgan the Finns have been in touch and are keen to be involved in our fiction in translation project. Could this be the acorn that we need? I hope so. The best Dutch story of last year is currently being translated and we're still on a promise from Galaxies in France. That would mean translated stories in five issues in a row would be possible. We also have a story from an Argentinian writer in inventory, though he has been widely published in English. But the theme is there to see. Now all we need is to keep the momentum going.

Planet of the Anti-Poets

2009-04-27T14:44:00.002+01:00

The other day I was walking along the quays in Dublin past a row of bus stops. There is always plenty of activity with people queuing and bus drivers hanging about outside their vehicles smoking. As several bus routes terminate here there are also always inspectors there. I'm not sure what the inspectors do these days - all I can tell you is that when asked a question like, "Why did the nine o'clock bus not show up?" they will always claim that this is not one of the routes they look after.
Anyway, for once I got some value out of an inspector though he remains necessarily unaware of his small place in my life.

The Bus Inspector

The tall inspector gouges his hairy eye.
The cuffs of his trousers dance maniacally across his insteps.

The Anti-Poet Strikes Again

2009-04-24T12:51:00.004+01:00

So, you thought you could stop me merely by ignoring me? Well, (maniacal laughter track) it's just not that simple.
Over the past few months the worldwide recession has been much in the news and much on the minds of the general populace. In Ireland, prior to the recession we had the wonderful beast known as The Celtic Tiger to keep us warm at night. We all became rich, or so it would seem - every Taxi driver I ever talked to on the drive home after missing the last bus seemed to own at least one apartment overseas. Everybody was investing in property. We couldn't spend money as fast as it kept on accumulating. Or so it appeared. House prices were astronomical and rising so fast it would make your head spin. Rents were worse if anything.
Myself and my wife were contemplating moving and consulted a mortgage broker. He visited us twice. The first time he was driving a Porsche the second he had just bought himself a brand new Bentley - he saw it and fell in love with it and just couldn't resist, even at a price of around 200K. He proudly told us he was buying a second premises on the other side of the city for an expansion of his business - it just wasn't worth renting commercial property and finance was so cheap.
I drove past his original office building the other week - the one he inherited from his father, who started the firm - and it was up for sale. The doors were locked and the windows shuttered. The Celtic Tiger has left the building. Like Elvis, it is dead. And so my latest non-poem is about that dear departed and it goes something like this:

The Celtic Tiger

Blinded by greed
Devouring its own balls.

2009-04-24T12:39:00.003+01:00

The new issue of Albedo One is just about ready to go to the printers and it features an award winning German story, Heimkehr, in English The Homeward Journey. I hope that it gets the wider audience it deserves and I hope that somebody thinks it was worth the trouble.
But where are the other foreign language stories? I emailed several European magazines, whom we had talked to about this project previously, and guess how many editors bothered to reply? I bet you guessed this one - absolutely none.
Honourable mention must go to Galaxies - thanks for the support Gillian - who sent us a copy of their latest issue with an article on Irish SF in which the wonderful Albedo One is heavily featured. But as of now there will be no translation in the following issue because no-one has bothered to send us one.

2009-04-19T20:58:00.004+01:00

Even though no-one seems to like my anti-poetry, or maybe simply because no one likes it, I'm going to keep on posting it. So there. Yah, boo, sucks to yez all.
Myself and my wife run a Bead and Crystal shop in Dublin city called Yellow Brick Road - call in and see us next time you're passing. On the days when I work at the shop I travel by train - the DART as it's known, which stands for Dublin Area Rapid Transit or transport or something like that. Anyway, I get off the DART at Tara Street station and every morning, except Saturday, there are piles of junkies hanging around outside the station, drinking coffee from paper cups and dealing drugs.
Now, Dublin has a serious drugs problem and naturally, the police allow junkies to buy and sell drugs on the street no matter how offensive this may be to citizens and distasteful o the few poor tourists who stumble onto the wrong bits of the city - mostly the city centre which used to be the pride of our nation but is now overrun by drug addicts nodding out in the streets or on the expesnively built Boardwalk that runs along the Liffey for a short while and is now owned by the low life's - with the greatest respect to any low life Boardwalk owners who may be reading this.
I could go on about this for hours but you're probably bored already so I'll consider enough background filled in so that i can get to the anit-poem. It's called...

Station Junkies

Why are there so many junkies outside Tara Street?
Are they addicted to trains, or what?

2009-04-19T20:56:00.002+01:00

I guess I'm a sad git but I took real pleasure in the defeat of Manchester United in the FA Cup semi this afternoon. Long live personal bias.

2009-04-16T12:16:00.003+01:00

As a dog owner I walk my pets regularly. In the local park there are signs up all over the place encouraging dog owners to be responsible and clean up after their animals. There are also threats of enormous fines for those who don't. And naturally, as I live in Ireland, there are no waste bins of any sort throughout the body of the park. But it does give a particular - I'll call it - flavour to the dog walking experience. In fact, it is one that is shared by everyone who uses the park.

Fragrant Companions

Down the park, me and the dog,
Our fragrant companion, a bag of shite.

2009-04-16T00:53:00.004+01:00

As it's my blog I believe I am allowed to say anything I like.
So here's a new thought for me.
I have never really liked or understood modern poetry and with the greatest of respect to all writers of all types and especially those friends who are poets or poets that I consider friends, i have been inspired to become what I think of as an anti-poet. Now maybe some of youse will think me a genius - that was a joke by the way - or worse, a poet, but still I'm going to soldier on.
I've been to a few poetry readings over the past year - for my sins, which are many - and observed that the poets doing the reading usually give a little speech before each poem to put it in context, so here it comes, my introductory bit before the poem.
Ahem!
I was at the Dublin launch of the Cork Literary Journal last year and most of the speakers were poets. However, there was a break or two for readings by prose writers and one for music by John Sheahan of the Dubliners. Now John played several tunes and, as with the poets, he told little stories in between. One of the stories concerned poetry and how he had begun to write it in the past few years, particularly Haiku.
Haiku, as you may know, is a very specific form but as I am an anti-poet (not pope, poet; what sort of godless idiot do you take me for), and Irish, I can do what the feck (check the spelling, that's an e in there) I like. but while listening to John's beautiful music I was moved to write a Haiku myself and this will feature as the first of my series which I am calling
Haiku, My Arse.
Although inspired by John Sheehan and all the long-winded bastards that read that night (apologies to their parents) I was also inspired to be a particular type of Irish poet, and that inspiration came form the wonderful Father Ted TV series. If you missed it, pick it up on DVD and discover what a joyful experience it can be to be Irish.
So, here it is, my Haiku, which is called:

Mrs Doyle's Lament.

Give us a Haiku, John.
Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on.

Thank you and good night.

2009-04-10T16:35:00.000+01:00

I must again ask why there is no Hugo for fiction written in languages other than English. The Oscars have awards for foreign films, why must the SF community remain so inward looking? Science fiction is supposed to be a genre that celebrates the exploration of the unknown universe or the unknowable future. Why must this exploration be done in English? Or more to the point, why can the ultimate prizes in the genre be awarded only to explorations in English? During the cold war science fiction was hugely popular in Eastern Europe as it was about the only forum in which you could freely express political views that diverged in any way from that of the party line. Consequently there is still a vibrant science fiction scene in Eastern Europe that has failed to impact upon the broader English-speaking community. Perhaps it is time to begin making changes.

2009-04-08T17:22:00.003+01:00

I was at an Irish SF convention recently called Phoenix Con. In one of the panels, about magazine fiction, a fellow writer propounded the theory that anyone serious about writing should only submit to markets that pay professional rates. Albedo One has survived for sixteen years in part because it does not pay pro rates - we have the assets to cover about one full issue at pro rates and that's only because we're pretty flush at the minute. We feel we provide exposure and a voice for writers and artists. We get thousands of short story submissions a year form writers who would be proud to feature in our pages. Does that justify our existence?
I have sold stories all over the show and few of them were at the pro rate. But I'm proud of these stories and will continue to write and continue to accept payments that often amount to no more than a token.
My latest sale is to Nemonymous edited by the estimable Des Lewis where stories are published anonymously (I can tell you I've got a story in the Cern Zoo anthology but not what it is called). I love the idea, but it is probably not commercial - you'd have to ask Des. I feel this is where the small press is at its strongest - trying something different, experimenting, encouraging writers to try something different. Good on you, Des. And thanks for existing.

2009-04-08T16:56:00.002+01:00

Just for the hell of it, I suggested an item for Worldcon in Montreal. I don't think it is likely to get picked up unless there is interest from others. But I think it could raise a useful debate. The title is: A Foreign Language Hugo, Hurrah! With apologies to Harry Harrison.

2009-04-07T14:57:00.000+01:00

In my head, everything sounds different. Hence the title of the blog. I should also say that everything sounds better - a fact that many editors will hasten to agree with. However, I've been writing for the guts of twenty years and haven't let the bastards grind me down yet.
The blog title also refers to a project I have recently embarked upon with my colleagues at Albedo One magazine. We realise how difficult it is for writers whose first language is not English to gain access to the major markets. So we're hoping to provide a forum for short fiction in translation with the help of overseas fan groups, non-English language magazines and national fan organisations.
Anyone who has any interest in the subject should contact me and we can see if there are areas of mutual interest to discuss.