New rules for the Lambda Awards

I just came across a worrying post on the EREC blog (http://www.erecsite.com/blog.html - Thursday's entry) regarding new rules introduced by Lambda for their annual writing awards. For anyone who doesn't know, these are probably the biggest, most prestigious awards for writers of glbt fiction; to win is instant kudos and even coming close is pretty special.

In the past, the awards have been open to any author who writes gltb fiction, irrespective of their own identity. Suddenly, this year, they've introduced a new requirement for the works to be judged on, amongst other things, 'the gender orientation/identity of the author'. In other words, all qualifying authors will presumably now need to be gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered before their work will be considered for a Lambda Award.

Of course, this is their award and they have every right to set their own rules. But for me, it rings several alarm bells.

Firstly, in this day and age of internet handles, pen names and hidden identities, how on earth are the judges going to check the gender and/or sexuality of authors, without being wholly intrusive at best and downright rude at worst? Will authors be expected to sign some sort of affidavit to their sexuality before being considered for an award? Or, as one colleague put it, will writers have to supply a DNA sample to satisfy the judges?

My second concern is that presumably, straight women who write gltb fiction will no longer be considered for the Lambda Awards. If this is the case, then it seems to be saying that only gay authors can write about gay characters. Where does this end? Should black authors only be able to write about black issues? Should women only write about other women, and children about children? Would only convicted thieves and murderers be allowed to write about crime? Or space aliens about outer space? Take this to its furthest limits and it soon gets silly. And who's to say that a straight author can't have insight into gay characters and gay lifestyle? After all, E M Forster managed pretty well with 'Maurice'....

Lastly, I'm concerned on a purely personal basis about shrinking markets. Any glbt anthology editor worth their salt accepts work with one eye on the Lambda Awards; it's only natural to want to be in with a chance of winning something as prestigious as that. But if only gltb authors are eligible, does this mean editors are going to start discouraging, or even banning, straight authors from submitting work to gltb anthologies? I really, really hope not, but it does seem to raise the possibility.

The Visitor out now

Ooops, my bad! I misread the details on the QueeredFiction website. The e-book version of 'Queer Dimensions' is out right now - it's only the print version that's coming on 21 September. That'll teach me to read things through properly...!



Anyhow, it means you can all now get your sticky mitts on the book, and read my short story The Visitor. As I've mentioned before, this is a poignant time-travel romance which follows one man's attempts to find the lover he left behind in his distant past - a past where gay relationships weren't allowed.

The anthology contains sixteen other stories, all gay, all sf and all with a 'time' element, by both new and established authors. Check out the QueeredFiction website for more details, and to find out where to buy the book.

And happy time-travelling, and reading.

Release date for 'Queer Dimensions'

Latest news from QueeredFiction is that their time-themed sf anthology 'Queer Dimensions' is due for release on 21 September via a range of stockists.

This book includes my short story The Visitor, a poignant time-travel tale of a man's search for the love he left behind in his distant past, as well as stories from around twenty other authors.

You can find more details at the QueeredFiction website and I'll obviously be posting more here, and on my own website, as soon as the anthology is available.

Story in The New Flesh

The New Flesh (which sounds rather like a porno site but is actually a brand new magazine of short dark fiction) have accepted Clones and are featuring it on their website today.

This story is a very short, very odd little piece about... well, um, I'm not really sure what it's about - that's half the fun. :D Suffice it to say it's science fiction, it involves a mad scientist, and it has a twist in the tail.

You can find the story online at The New Flesh and you'll see when you read it why the picture I've used here is so appropriate.

Writers' desks takes a break

In case anyone was wondering, I haven't forgotten about the writers' desks series. I just decided that the summer holidays was a good time to take a break, partly because the writers themselves are on holiday and partly because so many readers are also away, there might be fewer folk to read the posts. Do keep an eye on the site, though, because I hope to run more writers' desks in the coming weeks.

Eaten alive

Something carniverous with very sharp teeth has taken up residence in our garden. I'd been pottering about out there over the weekend, doing a bit of general tidying now that the first flush of summer is over. And what do I get for my trouble? Eleven separate insect bites, that's what. I'm one giant itch from head to toe, and I've used so much tea tree gel I should probably buy shares in the company. And still the wretched bites itch. It's not good for work, since I keep having to break off to ('scuse me) ::scratch::.

I have no idea whether our Resident Nasty Insect really is a mosquito or not (although I suspect it might be since one of our neighbours has a pond) but I do wish it would leave me alone (::scratch::) and go and bully something its own size, like a rhinoceros or something.

Busy weekend

Dave got back on Friday evening after a whole fortnight away working in South Wales. He was very tired (12 hours a day, 7 days a week for 2 weeks is enough to make anyone tired) so we decided to hang the chores and have some mindless fun over the weekend.

On Saturday we had a shopping trip into town, and then in the afternoon buzzed over to the nature centre on Pershore Road for a stomp round. I sprained my ankle last week so was hobbling round with the aid of a stick, but it was lovely to see all the animals - meerkats, otters, red pandas, a brand-new lynx enclosure etc etc - and enjoy the warm sunshine. Outside the cafe we bumped into some friends so sat down and had a cuppa (or in Dave's case, a large portion of ice cream) with them and chatted until the place was ready to close. Even on summer weekends it shuts at 4 pm which does seem a tad early; I'd been taken with a small furry toy lemur in the shop on the way in, but couldn't buy one as the shop was closed and we were all herded out to the car park by a different gate. Oh well, their loss.

The roads round Edgbaston were very busy - we hadn't realised that the Twenty20 cricket semi-finals and final were taking place at the Warwickshire ground and half the country seemed to have turned out to watch them! We made it back in one piece, though, and had Mexican for tea slumped in front of a couple of films - Igor (which was adorable) and The Iron Man, a typical Marvel plot but entertaining nonetheless.

Yesterday I got on with some much-needed decorating (finishing off fiddly bits in a couple of different rooms) while Dave put up a new light in the utility room, to replace the naked bulb which everyone and his Mum tended to bang their heads on. The result is much neater and much less dangerous!

False alarm

It must have been a temporary glitch. I've just logged in to my dashboard and there all my followed blogs are again. Phew. At least that saves me an afternoon's work trying to track them all down!

Blogger eats things again

I'm most irritated to find on logging on to Blogger tonight that my entire list of blogs I'm following has disappeared. Completely. Vanished without trace. Some of them I have listed elsewhere, and it shouldn't be too difficult to track them down again. Others were more of a one-off thing and I'm not sure I know where to start looking for them.

If you know I used to follow your blog and I suddenly seem to have disappeared, please feel free to contact me and let me know your blog address. It'll be saving me a lot of scraping around in the bowels of Blogger trying to find you all individually again!

And... sorry. But Blogger has a strange appetite at times....

Brideshead - and friends - revisited

Yesterday I had a lovely trip out to Solihull to meet writer friend Liz, her daughter Gail and her adorable grandson Jamie.

I'd had a rather rough weekend, with Dave away working and ructions with the next-door neighbour over the boundary fence (he's threatening to assume ownership himself...) so I was a bit frazzled to begin with. The weather didn't play ball either, being dark, damp and drizzly most of the day, so even pretty little Solihull didn't look its best.

We had a really nice time, though, chatting about this and that, catching up on news of mutual friends, and watching Jamie toddle about in the rose garden at Malvern Park. All very relaxing, and exactly what I needed after the hassles of the weekend.

Later on I watched the latest film of Brideshead Revisited on Sky Movies. I've read the book and watched and loved the old 1980s series with Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews, so I was intrigued to see how they'd managed with this adaptation. The answer is, not half bad. It lacked the sheer charm of the series, and because it was so much shorter some of the detail was lost. Matthew Goode as Charles was excellent, but I didn't rate Ben Wishaw quite as highly playing Sebastien. He seemed too much of a sullen teenager and lacked the sheer aching sadness of Andrews' performance. And my biggest criticism was that they swept the gay relationship under the carpet, hinting strongly that it was all on Sebastien's part, and that Charles was in love with Julia from the start. I'm not sure that's in keeping with the book - was it watered down for the American market, like so much these days? However, the film was a lot better than I expected, with some excellent performances from the supporting cast and a great period 'feel'. And I was amused to see that once again, Castle Howard stood in as Brideshead. Presumably the producers felt it was so synonymous with Brideshead in peoples' minds that they didn't dare film it anywhere else!

Famous last lines

The BBC website had an intriguing article yesterday on last lines of novels. First lines can be very well known, but it made the point that far fewer people can quote their favourite last lines. Why is this? Do readers simply not reach the end of a novel often enough to quote the last line? Or is it that the ending is a fuller, more rounded experience that leaves you with an overall impression rather than a single quote?

I don't know, but there were some classic endings listed in the article, including George Orwell's 1984, Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, and Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness.

My own favourite is from Daphne du Maurier's novel The House on the Strand:

"The telephone went on ringing, and I crossed the room to answer it, but a silly thing happened as I picked up the receiver. I couldn't hold it properly; my fingers and the palm of my hand went numb, and it slipped out of my grasp and crashed to the floor."

Of course, you have to read the rest of the book to appreciate just how clever, and chilling, an ending that is...

Latest news on Queer Dimensions

Latest news from Queered Fiction is that their latest anthology, 'Queer Dimensions', is likely to hit the shelves in mid-August.

Queer Dimensions is a sf collection of stories themed around time, and contains my short story The Visitor, a poignant time-travel tale about one man's search for the lover he left behind in his distant past.

I'll be posting more details about where and when the anthology is available, so do keep popping back to check.

Progress

I thought it was about time for a quick update on progress on submissions and so on, just to keep you all posted.

I've had some thoughts for a possible new novel cramming up my head for the last week or two, so I haven't been sending off quite as much as usual. This morning, though, I suddenly realised that a few deadlines were fast approaching, so settled down to work through them.

First up was the Hay Short Story Contest, a new competition that's only in its second year, but which is linked to the world-famous Hay on Wye Literary Festival. The theme was 'lost' and I had a story about a man living on the streets which seemed appropriate, so I've just printed that out and will post it at lunchtime.

Next I have a couple of ghost stories waiting to go to the next Words Magazine contest and I'll be getting those ready later today.

Finally, I'm in the middle of edits on The Visitor for QueeredFiction and hope to have an announcement about when that will be available fairly soon.

After that I'll have my head in a notebook, wrestling with the characters for this novel...

Glass-blowing, tigers and a misbehaving car

We've just arrived back from a very nice weekend visiting family on the Isle of Wight. It's a real tourist hotspot (mostly catering for the older generations; even my uncle who retired there refers to it as the 'Costa Geriatrica') so there's always loads to see and do.

Highlights this time included a visit to Sandown Zoo and a trip to the Isle of Wight glass studios. The zoo is a world-renowned one, which specialises in conservation and rescue work, particularly on tigers. They have a few other animals but not many; the bulk of their collection is big stripey cats that they've hand-reared or rescued from circuses and private collectors. It's only a small site but beautifully landscaped in the shade of an old fort with lots of palm trees and other sub-tropical plants thriving in the island's sunny climate.

The glass-blowing was fascinating. I'd never seen it done before and had no idea of the sheer skill and intricacy involved in creating the individual pieces. We watched two artisans making a perfume bottle with a flower stopper and they were back and forth to the furnaces, reheating the glass, shaping it, adding more layers of colour, reheating again, shaping again, for at least fifteen minutes. And that was just one piece! It made the high prices for the finished products much more understandable. And we treated ourselves to a very lovely paperweight.

The car has been misbehaving all weekend, with misfires in the engine and clouds of black smoke puffing out of the exhaust. Part way back last night it started making scraping noises to boot so it's been taken straight to the nearest mechanics this morning who are Looking At It. No doubt said Looking will involve lots of money so we're waiting for their phone call with some trepidation.

Writers' desks - Alex Beecroft

Well, technically it's Friday, if only just. ;) I'm posting this a little on the early side (aka the crack of dawn) because we'll be here there and everywhere over the weekend and I'm not sure I'll have internet access. So, without further ado, here's the latest in my series of writers' desks, this week gay historical author Alex Beecroft:

-----------------------


"I was about to start this entry with a deprecating little mention of the fact that although I like my desk tidy, no other part of my house reflects that. However, I see, now I'm looking at it, that my desk isn't that tidy either.

My desk is in what the estate agents called 'the dining room'. We soon turned the dining room into a sort of study, and it now contains four bookshelves, my desk, and my husband's desk (directly behind me).

When my desk was nothing more than a computer table, it used to fit into the corner and I would sit staring at a blank wall and feeling vaguely claustrophobic with all my reference books around me on the floor. So I asked for the desk for my birthday last year. It's been wonderful! Because it's so big, I'm now able to see out into the conservatory (aka the dining, sewing, exercise and general lumber room) and thence to the garden. I can also put my books into the desk drawers/shelves and have them easily to hand rather than scattered around my feet.

The fan comes in handy, as the conservatory tends to become oven-like during the summer. My in-box is a music stand, which is great because it takes up less room than a traditional lie-down one. I have an 18th Century clay pipe (replica) underneath it, which I find is better to chew on in moments of contemplation than a biro is. And that's my HMS Victory letter opener standing upright in the crease of my diary. Made from the oak and the copper-bottom of HMS Victory. (Another birthday present, but a different birthday.)

Apart from that, there's a drink and plate from my breakfast, sellotape, the beads from a broken necklace waiting in an envelope until I can re-thread them. Tonic (I forget to take it if it isn't staring me in the face.) And a black bag with the chain for my fob-watch in it. The watch itself is being repaired.

When False Colors was published, they sent me a stack of 'cover flats' – which is basically the cover with no book inside it. This was very nice indeed, and I put one of them up as a poster. But the rest are inside the desk waiting for me to think of what to do with them now!

It's a little messy and cheerless, which is exactly what you can say for the rest of the house. But then perhaps that's why I'm in the business of escapism!"

------------------------------

Alex can fight with spear and battleaxe and has helped to construct a Saxon manor house from the ground up. But she still can't operate a mobile phone.

Her first novel, Captain's Surrender, is an Age of Sail romance set in the 18th Century British Royal Navy. Her second novel, False Colors, of Amazonfail fame, came out in April 2009 from Running Press. Currently working on a contemporary romance, she has plans to turn her hand to rural fantasy and historic murder mystery in the near future.

You can find her at her website.

Amusing (mis)spelling

Couldn't help giggling over our local freebie newspaper tonight, which described two highwaymen in Washwood Heath, centuries ago, as having met a grizzly end.

Hmmm. Presumably they were mauled to death by a large bear?

:D

Mobile broadband... mutter mutter

I've been away from my desk for a few days, spending some time in a hotel in Kent with Dave, who had meetings in the area. It made a really nice change; we had a couple of meals out in the evenings, and also managed two different coastal walks. I can't really call them 'seaside' because we were on the Medway estuary which is a little, um, muddy - but it still made a refreshing change from Birmingham which is about as far from the sea as you can get.

We recently acquired a mobile broadband USB stick so I took that and a laptop with me, hoping to use them to stay in touch. It worked just fine at first - connecting to the internet and accessing webmail. But then I tried to update my blog. And found that instead of the usual Blogger navbar, I had a weird pink stripe across the top of the screen. When I investigated further, I found it had slapped an 'adult content ban' on me which wouldn't let me access, or update, any site with supposed adult content. For some unknown reason that included Blogger, every other social networking or blogging site, and a page about a novel that I wanted to research. The restriction was absolute, and the only way to get it lifted was to enter details of my credit card and pay the broadband provider £2. Supposedly they would refund this instantly, but I had visions of the transaction going wrong, the ISP eating my £2, and locking me out of broadband altogether, so I decided not to bother. Which is why it's been such ages since I've updated this.

Sorry! But you can blame the mobile broadband. I am. ;)

Writers' desks - Merry

Time for the next in my weekly series of writers' desks, where you can find out if all writers work their fingers to the bone in a half-ruined garrett, or swan about in a summerhouse with Sangria on tap!

----------------


"I share my desk so it's usually in an advanced state of chaos (I admit it - I tidied before taking the photo!)

The desk is in the back parlour next to the doorway into the kitchen. This means that it’s always gloomy, and in winter it’s absolutely freezing with the cold coming in through the single-glazed kitchen window.

I've become quite adept at typing with fingerless gloves on!

I face the wall so there's little to distract me there. I sometimes dream of having an attic office looking out over the fields but I know that – really – that would be the kiss of death as I'd spend far too much time daydreaming at the view. A wall is much better for progress.

I keep a general timetable of when I want things to be completed up on the pinboard, as well as a business plan for the year. The idea for the business plan came from Lynn Viehl and (for me) it works well as a means of setting out my goals and targets for the coming year.

On the floor by the chair are my Collins dictionary and thesaurus - not only handy for looking things up but also for short people to rest their foot on when typing! The chair (that you can't see) is a ratty old office chair, extremely comfy but looking rather threadbare as it's the cat's favourite scratching post.

The picture on the wall is one of my favourites - The Fighting Temeraire by Turner. I love the colours, the way everything is blurred and smudged; when I need a break from the screen I'll often lean back and look at it for a while, just to relax my eyes, before setting to once more."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Merry writes what she reads; combining fantasy, science fiction, romance, and horror in short and long fiction. When not working as an academic librarian—or herding a trio of Border Collies—she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book, or putting pen to paper.

Her blog is at: http://www.bibliothecariusalpha.blogspot.com/ and is cross-posted at Livejournal and Dreamwidth.

Selling what all the world desires

Birmingham City Council are making a big thing of the bicentennial of Matthew Boulton's death in 1809. He was, if not the father of the Industrial Revolution, then at least one of its 'movers and shakers' and was responsible for putting Birmingham on the map as the centre of manufacturing it remains (more or less...) to this day.

One of the main events marking his death is a big exhibition called 'Selling what all the world desires' at the Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery, exploring the man, his business skills, his family life and the exquisite metalwork produced at his factory in Handsworth. Dave and I went to the exhibition last Saturday and thoroughly enjoyed it. For starters it was free (always a bonus!) and it was also a good size, taking up three whole galleries in the Museum. (Not like one recent Chinese art exhibition, much hyped around the city, which turned out to be housed in eight glass cases....) We spent a whole hour wandering around, reading old inventories and accounts, looking at scale models of the steam engines he used in his factory, and gazing at the silverware and ormulu vases, candlesticks and clocks he produced. Some of these were a little too ornate (positively frilly) for my taste but you could see how expensive they were. Indeed, one entry in an inventory listed an item as costing a whopping 42 shillings. That probably represented a year's wages for most people!

Writers' desks - Charlie Cochrane

It's Friday again (already?) and time for the third in my series of writers' desks. This week it's the turn of historical romance writer Charlie Cochrane.

Don't forget that if you're a writer and would like to take part, you can email me for further details.

---------------------------



"This computer cart is where I write, answer e-mails, edit and do most of the things associated with my author life. It’s in our study, which is a pleasant little room with a view out onto the garden so I can swivel round in my chair and see winter jasmine, miniature daffodils or rhododendrons in flower, all depending on the time of year.

It’s a place I can shut myself away in and get on with writing – when the muse lets me – and let my bits and pieces spread.

The picture makes it look a bit too tidy – at the moment there are a pile of books under that teddy bear, one to be reviewed and some reference sources for the ‘work in progress’. There’s also CD’s to keep me happy while I’m tied to the keyboard and a picture of my eldest daughter and her prom date to admire. Alongside all the usual paraphernalia of modern life such as spare printer cartridges and cables to link various electronic gismos one to the other.

I find inspiration from the framed poem – one a friend wrote for my twenty fifth wedding anniversary - and the romantically creative juices are at present also being stimulated by pictures of the Garrison Church at Portsmouth and a rather nice Italian chap from the 1880’s, whose photo I found in a shop in Oxford.

Perhaps it’s appropriate that an assorted set of stories such as mine get written at a desk covered in an eclectic mixture of stuff."

----------------------------

Charlie Cochrane primarily writes historical gay mysteries/romances - her Cambridge Fellows Mysteries Series, set in Edwardian England, is available through Samhain, and she has stories in the anthologies 'I Do' (MLR), 'Queer Wolf' (Queered Fiction) and ‘Speak Its Name’ (Cheyenne Publishing). You can find her online at her Livejournal blog.