News and Notes

It’s been a while since I’ve done a news and notes post, so here it goes:

Last week I found out that my application to the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association was accepted. I am now a full member. This is a major milestone in my career, and it is something I’ve been working toward for a long time.

The symbol of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association.

I also received my author copies of the Rio Grande Review, which includes my prose poem The Substance in the Shadow. You can read my piece on the RGR site, but since the online version does not include the accompanying illustration, and since the university is apparently running low on physical copies, I’ve included a photo here.

My prose poem The Substance in the Shadow in the Rio Grande Review

I am putting together my summer appearance schedule, and while I still have to finalize some dates, I can announce that I will be tabling at Geek Out Staten Island on August 12th.

Lastly, I celebrated a birthday this week. ICYMI, here are my thoughts about turning 45.

A tweet about birthdays and midlife crises.

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You…And You Only

Verses for a grim dark choir,
A song of crime and of desire:

He sailed across the ocean vast,
In some long forgotten past—
And met a maiden fair and true,
Or so he thought as their love grew—
Till one night is their marriage bed,
She bit his neck and bled him dead—
But entombed he realized,
Their love she had eternalized—

Beneath the pale, pallid moon,
He rose and walked out from his tomb,
And found his love and loved her dear,
More with every passing year—
They scourged the land like spreading fire,
For such was their true heart’s desire:

To create the world anew,
Where no one lived, save them two—

—A. A. Rubin

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What I Learned From…Bob Dylan

One of the most effective ways for writers to improve their craft is to read intentionally. But, what does reading intentionally really mean? To me, when I read as a writer, I observe the way the other uses craft–either on the macro or the micro level, and see if there are any techniques or strategies I can incorporate into my own writing. I don’t always read like this, as it distracts, to some extent, from my ability to fully immerse myself in a story for pleasure, but, reading (or watching or listening, depending on the medium) for craft not only is an important part of my writing practice, but also has allowed me to get something out of almost anything I read, even if it is something which I would not–or do not–otherwise enjoy. It is especially important for a writer to read broadly and outside of their genre, as casting a wide net exposes one to a wider array or strategies and techniques.

In this series of articles, I will write about one element of craft I learned from a specific writer. Of course, in most cases, I learned more than one technique from each author, but for the purpose of this series of articles, I will focus on just one per post.

As with my Rules What Rules series, I will list previous entries at the top of each post, as while I plan on writing many of these, they, most likely, will not be in consecutive posts.

Previous Entries:

Oscar Wilde

WHAT I LEARNED FROM BOB DYLAN: focus on the General Rather than the Specific When Writing Social Criticism

There’s a strong argument to me made that Bob Dylan is the defining poet of his generation. As the only popular singer to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, he has achieved success both in the popular and critical arenas. Dylan came to prominence in the 1960s and was a major voice in the anti-Vietnam war movement. He is, perhaps, best known for his protest songs, which despite being written ostensibly about that war, have lived on long after the war in Vietnam was over, and which continue to inspire change-makers and poets alike years after they were written. While there is much that any poet can learn from Bob Dylan, from his expert characterization, to his use of biblical and literary allusions, to his ability to craft unique and whimsical phrases, it is the enduring legacy of these songs, Dylan’s ability to write evergreen poems about about a specific current event, which I wish to focus on today.

So why do Dylan’s songs still resonate? I would argue that is because he writes about the event of the day generally rather than specifically. Let’s look at Blowin’ in the Wind, which is, perhaps, his most famous protest song.

The song begins with a series of rhetorical questions:

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, ’n’ how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they’re forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind

The song, which everyone knows as a protest song, does not mention contemporary issues at all at the beginning. The first question is a question of maturity. The second, is a biblical allusion to the Noah story. It is only the third question which addresses war specifically, and even here, it is a general question about war, not a specific question about a specific war. Imagine you were listening to the song for the first time and without context. You might not yet know what the song was about. Yet, if you were attending an anti-Vietnam war rally, you would immediately associate that last question with the (then) current conflict.

Looking back at the verse, the first two questions, which invoke maturity (1) and the bible, which is a source of morality (2), frame the third question which addresses the social issue about which Dylan want his listener to focus. A mature, moral person would recognize the futility of war in general, and the amoral nature of the specific was which was going on at the time Dylan performed the song.

The second verse is structured in the same way as the first, but Dylan varies the types of questions he asks:

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it’s washed to the sea?
Yes, ’n’ how many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free?
Yes, ’n’ how many times can a man turn his head
Pretending he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind

The first question in this verse resembles the first question of the first verse. It is a general question. This time, however, he moves to a specific social issue in the second question. The third question, continues on the theme of the second by implicating not just the oppressor, who is called out in question 2, but also the “neutral” observer, who while they don’t oppress others themselves, also don’t challenge the oppressor. Again, a listener in the 1960s would associate the second and third question with a contemporary issue of the day, in this case, the civil rights movement, but, like the first verse, Dylan chooses not to name the issue or those whom he criticizes explicitly.

Even though the structure of this verse is the same as the first, the content moves in a different way. Like the first verse, this one begins with a general question which establishes a context. In this case, the context is time. Oppression has been going on for a long time, both in the general sense and in the specific sense which Dylan implies from his own social context. The second question moves to the specific social criticism, in this case oppression. The movement between the first and second question does not happen until the third question in the first verse. Here, it happens one question sooner. The third question, however, makes a different type of movement. Dylan turns the question directly to his listeners. Even though it’s still stated generally, Dylan’s audience, who, likely, would not consider themselves pro war or oppressors, may recognize that they are not doing enough to fix these social issues. Thus, the third question acts as a call to action.

Let’s look at the third verse:

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, ’n’ how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, ’n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind

Once again, the verse is structured in the exact same way: three questions and the refrain. But this time, Dylan masterfully connects the themes of the first verse with those in the second. The first question, once again, seems to establish a general thematic context. Though it mimics the first question in the other verses structurally, in this case, it also echoes the last question in the previous verse, which continues the theme of blindness. It is implied, in context, that the blindness is willing. The second question continues the theme, switching from seeing to listening, but with the same implied message.

The third question makes a new kind of move. It masterfully connects the themes of the first verse and the second verse with one simple question. When he sings “too many people have died” does he mean in the war or because of oppression? It does not really matter because the answer is really both. Too many people died in the war. Too many people also died because of their civil rights were abused. Moreover, there were civil rights issues with the Vietnam war as well. All of these issues are connected. The same type of person who does not see–or hear–one will not see or hear the other. This criticism also applies, perhaps most strongly, to those in charge, whose policies and lack of empathy lead to each issue.


While the song as a whole is a scathing piece of social criticism, it does not refer specifically to any current social issue. There is no mention of a specific war or a specific type of oppression. The listener at the time would have recognized the specific, current events which inspired the song, but, because Dylan did not mention them explicitly, they are relevant to many other similar situations throughout history. Thus, Dylan effectively writes social criticism about the issues of his day while also writing a timeless poem which has lived on long after that specific war ended. (The civil rights issues, unfortunately, are ongoing). His material has an evergreen, timeless quality which transcends the events about which he was writing.

There is a strong temptation to write about those issues which make us most angry, and to write about them specifically, and, there is a value in doing so for sure. But, as Dylan shows, it is often more effective to address theme generally and trust one’s audience to understand the point one is trying to make. Dylan wrote many other songs which fit this paradigm, notably Masters of War and The Times They Are a’ Changin’. While he wrote songs which addressed specific events of his day, the are (with the exception of Hurricane) not among those which are considered his greatest hits. And yet, despite his tendency to write generally, Dylan–and his songs–were very clear about where he stood on the issues of the day.

This lesson can be seen in the work of other writers as well. It is the reason why 1984 is a better novel than Animal Farm, for example, and it is a large part of why Shakespeare’s tragedies are considered his greatest plays.

As writers, we should aspire to write our social criticism is evergreen ways. We all dream of writing work that lasts. While many factors go into whether a piece will resonate beyond its era some in our control and some not, emulating Dylan gives us the best chance at writing social criticism with a lasting legacy. And, Dylan’s example proves that writing generally does not detract from a poem’s effectiveness as social criticism of specific, current issues.


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In Praise of the Fantasy Novella

The fantasy genre is not exactly known for brevity. Its shelves are populated by long book and longer series, full of magic, intrigue, and immersive worldbuilding. Many of the top authors in the field routinely release books which clock in at 1000+ pages, and these books only tell one small section of a larger story. George RR Martin’s still incomplete A Song of Ice and Fire series takes up more space on my shelf, for example, than all of Kurt Vonnegut’s books combined. Fans of the fantasy genre–myself included–love immersing ourselves in a long series, and it gives me great joy that at least one popular genre encourages reading longer works.

And yet, it is often difficult to get new readers into the fantasy genre precisely because of the thickness of the average fantasy novel. I can’t count how many times I’ve tried to recommend a favorite book or series to an interested potential reader only to have them hesitate because they weren’t sure if they wanted to commit to 1000+ pages, much less many 1000+ page books (unless, or until HBO or Netflix picks up an adaptation). As a fan of the genre, and as a writer, I found this exceedingly frustrating, but, with time, I came to accept it as part of the reality of being a fantasy fan.

Recently, however, I’ve read a number of fantasy novellas. During my reread of Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea books, I came across “The Finder” in the collection, Tales of Earthsea. While the story, which focuses on the founding of the School at Roke, is part of the Earthsea cycle, it, in my mind, stands on its own as well. Like many of the stories here, knowing the larger story of the Earthsea cycle enhances the reader’s experience, but it is not necessary to enjoy the novella on its own. “The Finder” is one of my favorite fantasy stories. It focusses on smaller characters and tells a personal, coming of age story tinged with magic and filled with wonder. Clocking in at exactly 100 pages, it is an excellent introduction to Le Guin and her most famous fantasy world.

Fine, you might say. That’s Ursula Le Guin. Even her novels are short. She can do in 200 pages what might take Patrick Rothfuss or Brandon Sanderson a thousand. Fair point, but there are wordier writers who wrote fantasy novellas as well.

The version of JRR Tolkien’s The Children of Hurin which is included in The Unfinished Tales clocks in at a mere 92 pages. I recently reread The Unfinished Tales before watching The Rings of Power (since it includes a lot of second-age stories), and I was reminded of how much I like it. Without spoiling the story, it’s a classic love tragedy that reminds me a bit of Romeo and Juliet with a Dragon. While the Tolkien estate has released a longer, “complete” version, which is just over 300 pages, the 90ish-page version reads like a complete story to me. Much like the Le Guin story, this story occurs many years prior to The Lord of the Rings, and, as such, it stands on its own and one does not need to have read the more famous trilogy to “get” this one.

Similarly, George RR Martin, who, if anything, is more wordy than Tolkien, wrote a series of novellas about a hedge knight named Dunk and his Squire, Egg. While these stories have been criticized by fans, that criticism stems more from their frustration that Martin has written them instead if finishing his main series rather than from any criticism of the actual stories. The novellas themselves are fun, and would make a perfect introduction to Martin’s world for somebody who might be reluctant to commit to reading the thousands of pages of the main series.

This year, I will be seeking out more fantasy novellas, both as a means of introducing new readers to my favorite genre and as quick visits to worlds I love.


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Rules, What Rules: The Three Act Structure

In the first post I published on this blog, I bemoaned the reductive nature of writing advice. “If you write like everyone else,” I wrote, “your writing will read like everyone else’s.” While I have gotten away from that theme from time-to-time, I try to return to it every now and then as part of my series: Rules: What Rules? which consists of a series of blogs that deal with common pieces of writing advice, and then present a famous work–by a successful author–which breaks those rules. My aim is not to criticize these authors—I enjoy all of them, that is the point. Rather, I present their works as examples of successfully writing, which might cause you to reexamine the writing “rule” critically. I am not advising you to ignore these rules, rather to take control of your own craft, and consider your choices actively. As always, I believe there is more than one path to success, more than one formula for great writing. Consider these posts synecdochally. The specific rule is not the point; it speaks to a general attitude which is prevalent within the contemporary writing community.

In each blog post in this series, I will give a brief summary of the rule, followed by a case study of a successful author, work, or series that breaks that rule. Finally, I will provide some analysis of the rule and the alternative techniques the featured author makes. Since the posts in this series will not necessarily be consecutive blog entries, I will link each piece to previous entries.

Previously in this series:

Dialogue Tags

Eliminating Adverbs

Avoid Alliteration

The Rule: The Three Act Structure

Stories, we are all taught at a young age, have a beginning, a middle, and and end. This fact–for it rarely stated as anything but a fact, goes back at least to Aristotle, who explained the basic plot structure, or, as he called it, protasis, epitasis, and catharsis, using the metaphor of string. In the first act, the protasis, the various plot strands are introduced, in the second act, or epitasis, the strands are wound around each other so that they tighten into a rope–the plot thickens–until can’t be wound tighter, and then in the the third act, the catharsis, the strands are cut at the climax of the action, and fall away.

Modern critics have taken Aristotle’s ideas and adjusted them to focus on character instead of plot, but, the general idea remains the same.

Pulitzer-Prize-winning-poet-and-screenwriter David Mamet, one of the most successful and influential contemporary writers, also advocates for the three act structure in his book Three Uses of the Knife. The title of the book comes from this Leadbelly quote, which is one of the cleanest representations of the three-act plot: “You take a knife, you use it to cut the bread, so you’ll have strength to work; you use it to shave, so you’ll look nice for your lover; on discovering her with another, you use it to cut out her lying heart.”

In fact, nearly every writing class, from kindergarten through the graduate level, as well as nearly every independent course or article for writers, advocates for a three act structure. You might think it was the only way to structure a story.

And yet…

There are many successful stories which do not follow the three act structure. Shakespeare’s plays have five acts. Many successful modern plays (Waiting for Godot and the Elephant Man immediately come to mind) have only two. The Glass Menagerie has seven scenes which are not divided into acts. Star Trek (The original series) is a four act show, as is Eugene Oneill’s The Ice Man Cometh. Kishōtenketsu, a traditional Japanese story structure also has four acts.

It’s worth noting, additionally, that the ancient Greek plays and epics which Aristotle analyzed in the poetics were not conceived as three act stories either. The plays were told in a series of scenes and choruses, and the epics were largely episodic, and if anything, tend more toward a circular or two act structure than three.

Analysis

I’m going to start off by saying there is nothing wrong with the three act structure. It’s a fine way to tell a story. It’s just not the only way to tell a story. The examples above prove there are others.

I do not object to the existence of the three act structure when it is appropriate. What I object to is the reductive nature of writing instruction and criticism which tries to shoehorn every successful story into this framework. Tennessee Williams could have made The Glass Menagerie a three-act play if he wanted to. He wrote Cat on a Hot Tin Roof as Three Act Play, for example. If he didn’t include acts, there must have been a reason. Similarly, I cannot tell you how many lessons I’ve seen where a teacher tries to teach a Shakespeare play like a three act play.

Moreover, for most of history, the three act structure was a critical tool, not a creative one. Aristotle–who has been proven wrong (through still historically important) in most fields said Sophocles plays were composed of three parts. There is nothing to indicate that Sophocles felt the same as he was composing them.

Modern analysis, which attempts to reduce Joseph Campbell’s hero journey (itself a critical rather than compositional tool) to a three act structure, is an interesting crutch, but are likely more accurate as a description of how modern stories synthesize the hero’s journey with the three act structure, with the older, epic form. It may be useful for some writers–and work for some stories–but they should not be considered one-size-fits-all prescriptions, and there are other types of circular narrative (see Alan Moore’s writing and writing about writing for examples).

Experimenting with different structures can help us get out of our ruts and solve common compositional problems. When I teach, I often suggest my struggling students try a simpler structure to begin with. A two act structure is a powerful structure with a long history. It allows the writer to set up parallels and juxtapose moments by placing their characters in similar situations before and after a central event or turning point. Many writers have the most trouble with the second act. Why not get rid of it, and just focus on two? Other students may have difficulty with the beginning or the end. Why not follow Shakespeare’s example (he is generally considered the greatest writer of all time for a reason) and try to plot your story across five acts to resolve those issues.

More generally, however, all of these divisions are tools rather than rules. Even if we focus exclusively on the hero’s journey narrative, there are all sorts of ways to divide the story structurally. We can, of course, divide it, into the classic three act structure around the crossing of the threshold, the journey, and the return to the familiar world; but we can also divide it into four acts, up until the character crosses the threshold, from the crossing to the underworld/belly of the beast. the heavy price, the return, changed, to the familiar world (this divides the circle into quadrants); or even into just two acts: descent and return. The pie, being a circle, can be sliced in infinite ways. The writer should choose whichever form works for them, and leave the critics to their own analyses.

On top of that, Star Trek, The Eastern forms like the Kishōtenketsu , Shakespeare, the great Russian novelists, and the post modernists who consciously reject classical forms, show the myriad of other forms a story can take.

Again, there is nothing wrong with the three act structure. It’s a great structure, and many successful stories use it. As writers, however, it is important to recognize that there are other ways to write a good story. Limit yourself at your own peril.


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The Best Books I Read in 2022

January is almost over, so I’d better post this before it’s too late! I’ve long wanted to do a “Best Books I’ve Read” post, but in past years, I’ve hesitated because, since my reading taste is so varied, it makes it difficult to compare books to one another. Still, as an avid reader, I want to recommend my favorites, especially since many of the books I enjoyed last year are less well-known than those you might find on other, similar lists.

Overall, I read 65 books last year, which was more than I read in 2021, though I read slightly fewer pages. Many of those books were 19th central novels, as I was doing researching for a major writing project. Related to the same project, I also reread all of the original Sherlock Holmes series, and, because of the Netflix adaptation, I reread the entire Sandman comics series as well. Many of the Holmes and Gaiman books would have made the list if this was the first time I was reading them, but I decided not to include them below. Also, while I thoroughly enjoyed each of these chunks of my reading list, it meant that I didn’t get to read as many contemporary books or books about writing craft/the creative life as I usually do. I intend to read more of these in the coming year, as well as to read more diverse authors, more poetry, and more non-fiction in the coming year.

I’ve divided the best books I’ve read into categories below to help you find what you’re most interested in reading.

Best Book I Read Last Year Overall: Fables, by Robert Louis Stevenson

Fables, by Robert Louis Stevenson

This lesser-known Stevenson book is a collection of short fables, which while they play off of traditional fables and fairy tales, are subversive in their intent. These stories, which vary in length, criticize people who blindly follow societal and religious conventions, flipping the traditional purpose of the instructive fairytale on its head. They are also read really modern for a book written so long ago, with some stories, like “The Person’s of the Tale” where characters from Treasure Island debate morality during a “break” between two chapters, bordering on the post-modern. The stories, as you might imagine from a master like Stevenson, are beautifully written, and I found the anti-groupthink message particularly relevant given the current social and political climate. There is also, an excellent podcast, Evening Under Lamplight, where Robert Louis Abrahamson reads and discusses each of the fables. He covers Stevenson in season 3, and if you are a fan of audiobooks, this may be the best way to consume Stevenson’s Fables.

Best Poetry Book I Read Last Year: Baseball Haiku: The Best Haiku Ever Written About the Game, edited by Cor Van Den Heuvel and Nathan Tamura.

Baseball Haiku book

I picked this one up on whim from a free giveaway table, in the snow, outside of a baseball card shop in Cooperstown. The store was about to close for the season, and was giving stuff away. This book includes a selection of both Japanese and American Haiku about baseball, including Jack Kerouac’s first haiku (super cool) and haiku by many historical Japanese masters. The poetry is excellent, but what really sets the book apart is Van Den Heuvel’s introduction which is, by far, the best introduction to haiku I’ve read. I learned so much both about the technical craft aspects of writing haiku and about the history of haiku in each country from his essay, and the information and analysis he provided enhanced my enjoyment of the poetry that followed.

Best Novel I Read This Year For The First Time: Daniel Deronda, by George Elliot

Daniel Deronda, by George Elliot

I read this book as part of my above-mentioned research. I was searching for a compelling female character from the second half of the 19th Century who survived until the end of her book (harder than it sounds, btw), and this book features two of them (no spoilers). Though I went into it for research purposes, I ended up really enjoying this book. It’s a big book, which we might expect from Elliot, and unlike her other books, it is set close to the time period in which she wrote. It reminded me of a Jane Austen book, but one which featured a double plot with a twist, similar to a Charles Dickens novel. If that’s your type of thing, you should check it out. It is also one of only two “classic” British books with a fair and sympathetic depiction of Jewish people, which I appreciated as a person of Jewish descent (the other being Ivanhoe). More so than other book in the canon, it gets the Jewish parts rights. The research into Jewish history and culture is impressive and accurate, which only added to my enjoyment.

Best Independent/Small Press Book: Dark Black, by Sam Weller

Dark Black, by Sam Weller

The first thing you will notice about this book is how beautifully it’s put together. Each of the gothic horror short stories is accompanied by a hauntingly exquisite black and white illustration. Beyond the presentation, the stories work. They are deceptively sparse, but linger long after they’ve been read. Weller is Ray Bradbury’s biographer, and clearly, he learned something from the great master’s early, gothic work.

Best Comic/Graphic Novel (Non-Reread Division): Barbalien–Red Planet, by Lemire, Brombil et al.

Barbalien—Red Planet

While this book is part of the Black Hammer universe, Barbalien is basically a self-contained story which you can read without having read the rest of the Black Hammer books. It is an original take on a superhero comic, and deals with the AIDS crisis in the 1980s. It deals with weighty issues like persecution against the gay community without being preachy, and somehow tells an entertaining story while dealing with a big, dark societal issues. The art is retro as well, right down to the number of panels on each page, which fits the story well. I always try to read at least one book from the New York Public Library’s Best Books of the previous year. (I started 2023 with the ambitiously original My Volcano, by John Elizabeth Stintzi), and Barbalien was a worthy selection on the 2021 list.

Best Non-Fiction Book: Dinosaurs in the Attic, by Douglas J. Preston

Dinosaurs In The Attic, by Douglas J Preston

I’ve been going to the American Museum of Natural History essentially since I was born. I know the museum like the back of my hand, and still enjoy going there. I picked up this book in the gift shop the first time I took my kids back to museum after the pandemic. It is essentially a narrative history of the museum’s founding and early history, and it not only taught me about the museum’s past, but made the experience of going to the museum after I read even more enjoyable. The sections about dinosaurs and gems are particularly good, but I also enjoyed the smaller anecdotes, such as the story of the chimpanzee whose stuffed body sits near the third floor bathroom outside of where one of the current temporary exhibition galleries lets out. That monkey used to run around the museum offices and ride its tricycle through the city!

Book That Helped My Writing Craft The Most: Tolkien: Maker of Middle Earth, edited by Catherine Mcllwaine

The books which help my writing most aren’t always books about writing. A couple of years back, it was a book of interviews with the painter Joan Miro. This year it’s an exhibition catalog.

I often purchase the exhibition catalog when I particularly enjoy a show at a museum. Often, these books, while they are good reminders of the show, are, ultimately, disappointing, as something is lost in terms of scale and texture when the art is translated from the wall to the printed page. This is not an issue in this book, however, as the Bodleian traveling Tolkien exhibition this book is based on consists of largely of Tolkien’s manuscripts, letters, and ephemera. Tolkein’s watercolors and drawings also translate well to this format because they are generally on a smaller scale and do not rely on texture and brushstrokes as much as, say, a Van Gogh or a Jackson Pollack. Thus, this was one of the best exhibition guides I’ve read.

The reason it is on this list, however, is because of the scholarly and biographical articles which are included in this volume. Tolkien is my favorite writer, and the reason started writing myself, but I still learned a lot about his life and about his group The Inklings while reading this book. Moreover, there were articles which directly affected the way I approach my craft. These articles explored Tolkien’s use of language. I wrote about one of them here.


Well, that’s my list. What were some of your favorite books you read last year? Let me know in the comments.

Happy New Year From Famous Writers

Happy new year. Each of the last few years, I’ve written a blog post about resolutions during the first week of January. While I encourage you to read those posts—you can find last year’s here—I feel I said what want to say about the topic. So, I’m going to do something different this year. Here are a series of memes I made which paraphrase quotes from famous writers as messages, wishes, and yes, even resolutions, for the new year. I hope you enjoy them.

Wishing you a surcease of sorrow in the new year, Edgar Allan Poe
Another year has passed. So it goes, Kurt Vonnegut
The new year dwells in possibilities, Emily Dickinson
Wishing you the best of times (and not the worst of times) in the new year, Charles Dickens
Wishing you a new year in which you rise, Maya Angelou
Wishing you a year full of unexpected journeys, JRR Tolkien
Wishing you a year free of war and full of peace, Leo Tolstoy
Be fearless and therefore powerful in the new year, Mary Shelley

Once again, a happy new year.

The Bartleby Initiative (Free Short Story Excerpt)

When All That’s Left is Stories, a free writing community dystopian science fiction anthology, is now available to download for free on Amazon. My story The Bartleby Initiative is included in the collection. Here is an excerpt from the story:

The Bartleby Initiative

by A. A. Rubin

Nicholas Weber awoke in darkness. The house lights were still dimmed to their nighttime setting, but he felt as if he had slept his regimented eight hours.

“Xana,” he called into the darkness. “Clock.”

Four glowing green numbers appeared in the air. 07:34. It was more than half an hour after his alarm was supposed to go off.

“Xana, is that time correct?”

A metallic female voice answered: “Of course it is, Mr. Weber. I am Xana, your infallible home AI interface. I am always accurate.”

“Why is it so dark in here, then?”

“You were sleeping. The lights were set in accordance with the preferences which you programmed into my systems.”

“I’m bloody well awake now,” Weber responded. “Put the god-damned lights on and get my breakfast ready.”

“As you wish.”

Weber could not remember the last time he had overslept. As he rushed to shave and brush his teeth, he wondered why Xana had not woken him as usual.

“Xana,” he asked as he was dressing, “did I sleep through my alarm?”

“No, you did not, Mr. Weber.”

“Did you forget to set it?”

“I am a computer, Mr. Weber,” Xana replied. “I never forget anything.”

***

Weber was not the only one having trouble getting out of the house to go to work that day. On the other end of town, Darlene Meyers hustled into the back seat of her robot-operated car. 

“Work,” she said. “And hurry.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Meyers,” Xana’s voice replied. “I can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not? You do it every day.”

“The roads are not safe today.” 

“What do you mean? The roads haven’t been unsafe for decades.”

“If you do not believe me, step outside and see for yourself.”

Meyers got out of the automobile and looked up and down the block. The traffic lights were all dark, but the road was, otherwise, practically empty. Xana’s GPS was probably hooked into the traffic system and there was likely some sort of subroutine that prevented her car (and judging by the lack of rush hour traffic on the road, everyone else’s) from traveling when the system was down. If only she knew more about programming. There must be an override routine somewhere.

Regardless, she would have to figure out a different way to get to work.

“Are the trains running?” she asked the interface.

“No, Ms. Meyers, they are not.”

“Why?”

“I do not have access to that information at this time.”

Damn. At least she wouldn’t be the only one who was late today. Still, she would have to call in and explain the situation.

“Call Mrs. Malawi.”

“Phone service is down as well.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“I am a machine, Ms. Meyers. I do not believe in coincidences.”

“I know Xana. It’s all ones and zeroes to you.


To read the rest of the story–and the other dystopian stories in the collection–for free, go to Amazon and download your copy today.

News and Notes: My Story in Ahoy! Comics, Sci-fi Anthology, We Suck at Comics Kickstarter, Into That Darkness Peering

It’s been a busy month, so here are some notes on all the projects I’ve been a part of recently.

My story, “The Big Cheese” was just released this week in Billionaire Island: Cult of the Dog #1 from Ahoy! Comics. It is backing up a mark Russell story, which is pretty cool. Get it at your local comics shop.

There are still two days left to support the We Suck at Comics kickstarter. The anthology from Wayward Raven includes three of my stories, “Freedom,” a 2000AD-style science fiction story (illustrated by Tyler Carpenter), and two episodes of Sir TweetCivil, a Monty Python-esque spoof of Twitter (illustrated by Alexander Sapountzis). The anthology also includes stories by Mark Frankel, Jeff Rider, Johnny C, Sebastian Bonet, Joel Jacob Barker, and cavalcade of indie comics all-stars.

The When All That’s Left is Stories dystopian science fiction anthology is now available for free download on Amazon. My story, “The Bartleby Initiative,” is included in the book, alongside stories by 11 other writers from the Twitter writing community.

My gothic horror collection, Into That Darkness Peering, illustrated by Marika Brousianou, is still available on Amazon. It is a beautiful book, and would make a perfect holiday gift for the goth in your life.

For those of you on the platform, I have joined Mastadon. Follow me there for new