Today's Wordcount and Other Notes (8/23/2014)

One of the questions that often comes up in the Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction class is: are there markets that should be eliminated due to factors outside of pay, reply time, exposure, and the other usual suspects?

This is something that one needs to think about, and my rule is simply this: would you feel pleased and proud to have your work appear there?

There are some markets that sometimes people might want to exclude. Let’s take a (very) recent example, the Weird Tales kerfuffle. To recap, Marvin Kaye announced that the magazine would be serializing a novel, SAVE THE PEARLS, and his announcement made it seem as though part of the reason for printing it was that the book has been unfairly ganged up on by “Amazon readers.” I put that phrase in quotation marks because it’s actually been pretty consistently slammed for its racism by numerous bloggers. Here’s one of the reactions that sums up a lot of the objections.

The Internet, as is its way, spoke its mind on the subject. But beyond the slew of comments, there’s evidence that people are doing more than commenting. The withdrawal rate for the magazine as listed on Duotrope, is currently 25.86%, as in a quarter of the submitters have subsequently withdrawn their submissions. Compare that with Lightspeed’s withdrawal rate of 0.13% or Clarkesworld’s rate of 0.29% and you see that something’s going on.

Since then, the publisher has announced that they will not be serializing the book. That’s awesome, although it seems as though that announcement may be not entirely accurate.

But I view not sending something to a magazine because you object to its policies as not quite so important as this: don’t send to a magazine if you would not be proud to appear there. It’s about you, not the magazine.

Other markets that often come up in discussion include anything associated with Orson Scott Card or the Writers of the Future contest. Again, you need to think about it, not go with a kneejerk reaction. I have friends who submit to either or both of those, and that’s swell. They’ve thought about it, and reached a different conclusion than I might have.

As a feminist, I might have the same struggle with submitting to Playboy or Hustler (if they were taking unsolicited fiction, which they’re not.) As a writer, it’s your choice. Are you making a statement the magazine will listen to? Probably not. They’ve got literally hundreds of submissions coming in each month. You’re not going to affect them. The only thing you need to worry about is your own conscience and whatever decision you make is the right one if it works for you.

But also remember – the editor is not the magazine. I’ve submitted to a market I found problematic because I respected and liked the editor there. I entered WotF when I was still eligible because it was a heck of a sale and seemed like a decent career boost (alas, I never won, so I can’t tell you whether or not it was). My list of markets I won’t submit to is fairly small, and it’s been known to change. But I research and then listen to what my heart tells me. That’s what you need to do.

Enjoy this insight into submitting stories to markets and want more content like it? Check out the classes Cat gives via the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers, which offers both on-demand and live online writing classes for fantasy and science fiction writers from Cat and other authors, including Ann Leckie, Seanan McGuire, Fran Wilde and other talents! All classes include three free slots.

Prefer to opt for weekly interaction, advice, opportunities to ask questions, and access to the Chez Rambo Discord community and critique group? Check out Cat’s Patreon. Or sample her writing here.

It is difficult to describe how Catherynne M. Valente’s new book Space Opera manages to be so wonderfully resonant of Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy yet so insistently, inimitably her own. And yet, that’s the challenge.

Valente’s skill manifests in a book that bounces right along, full of glorious, funny, wonderful, sparkly explosions of humor and wit that still, just as Adams always did, manages to say Insightful and Interesting Things about Human Nature. And it’s funny. Did I mention that this is a funny book? It’s the story of failing rock singer Decibel Jones and his dysfunctional band, the Absolute Zeroes, who have been chosen to represent their world in an interstellar challenge that determines whether or not the Earth will be destroyed.

But it’s more than an updated Adams. It’s a little deeper and a lot better about things like gender pronouns and interestingly diverse cast. It has much more fashion and quirky stylistic details than HHGG, with fabulous living starships that resemble coral reefs, so much music of so many kinds, and enough eyeball kicks on every page that one fears sometimes for the safety of one’s figurative vision.

The first two chapters are admittedly slow going. The book doesn’t really find its legs until a bit into chapter three, after we’ve finally been introduced to protagonist Jones “lying passed out on the floor of his flat in a vintage bronze-black McQueen bodysuit surrounded by kebab wrappers, four hundred copies of his last solo album, Auto-Erotic Transubstantiation, bought back from the studio for pennies on the pound, and half empty bottles of rosé.”

At this point the alien invasion that’s been textually hovering in the wings for a while hears its cue and manifests:

“¦in everyone’s rooms at once at two in the afternoon on a Thursday in late April. One minute the entire planet was planet-ing along, making the best of things, frying eggs or watching Countdown or playing repetitive endorphin-slurping games or whatnot on various devices, and the next there was a seven-foot-tall ultramarine half-flamingo, half-anglerfish thing standing awkwardly on the good rug. Crystal-crusted bones showed through its feathery chest, and a wet, gelatinous jade flower wobbled on its head like an old woman headed off to church. It stared at every person in the world, intimately and individually out of big, dark, fringed eyes sparkling with points of pale light, eyes as full of unnameable yearning and vulnerability as any Disney princess’s.

This passage demonstrates the clean virtuosity of Valente’s prose in Space Opera. I’ve loved her other works, particularly The Orphan’s Tales, but this is a very different style for her and it’s truly impressive to see her execute it with the same seemingly effortless grace. Omniscient point of view is handled beautifully, and shows how well suited it is to large scale works like this one.

Space Opera will delight Valente’s fans and undoubtedly bring a new crowd her way, because it’s just plain good and funny and wonderful. I can’t imagine what Valente will pick for her next project. At this point I’m convinced she could make a set of instructions for assembling an IKEA dresser beautiful and engrossing. And I’m looking forward to that read.

(Saga Press, 2018; available April 3)

You can read review at http://thegreenmanreview.com/books/catherynne-m-valentes-space-opera/