A few thoughts on Readercon

I returned this weekend from a long vacation, which included a stop at the Readercon convention. I enjoyed seeing authors I've met before, including Chesya Burke, K. Tempest Bradford, David Mercurio Rivera, Nicole Cushing and Kameron Hurley. I also enjoyed meeting a number of amazing genre people for the first time, including Sheila Williams, Sofia Samatar, Ken Liu, Carrie Cuinn, Amal El-Mohtar, Sarah Pinsker, Rose Fox, Daniel José Older and last but definitely not least, Samuel R. Delany.

I will definitely try to attend Readercon again and I recommend it for anyone who loves the literary side of the genre. But I also echo Tempest's frustrations with the con, specifically the lack of Andrea Hairston’s books in the dealer room. I always look forward to purchasing books when I go to conventions and I was shocked Hairston’s books were not available.

As for certain white people at the con not being able to tell apart the various people of color, what the hell is wrong with you folks? As Tempest says:

"Here’s the thing: at cons, we are all wearing name badges. Thus, it is not at all shameful for you to look at said badge to confirm that you are, indeed, addressing the person of color you think you are. Especially if you have not ever met said person of color. It’s okay. But assuming that the Asian man standing in the room must be the Asian man you’ve heard of and asking him to sign a thing? No, people. No."

I recommend people go read Tempest's entire post. It's a must-read.

A few thoughts on art and the ageless

Note: Lately I've been thinking about both my own writing and the entire creative process. Why do we strive to tell stories? What makes a piece of art worth sharing? These thoughts caused me to dig up this essay I wrote a while back.
 

There's an art which comes while doing archaeology in the August heat of Alabama. Sweat drips off the forehead in consistent, even drops. New-dug clays hint at a decay just beyond perception. Clouds scud the sky without reference to any unseen, human horizon.

To understand the ageless importance of the arts, do archaeology with me on this bluff overlooking the Tallapoosa River. Dig a ten-foot-deep excavation pit, exposing a child buried two thousand years ago. Most of what was buried with the child is gone — clothes, food, a shell necklace that disintegrates to the barest touch of air. But even though the child's bones have decayed to mere outline, art lives here. It resides in the delicate clay cup resting between the child's right arm and ribs.

The cup is art. Barely two inches wide, the cup evokes memories of the small bowls from a Japanese tea ceremony. And instead of the earth tones of most ancient pottery, this cup glows a soft blue. What artist created such a rare, subtle dye? Who was this child to be buried with such a piece of art?

For thousands of years people lived on this bluff. Within a week nothing will remain. A rock quarry is digging up the site because there is gravel below the top soil — and gravel sells for a million dollars per square acre. There will not be time to excavate most of the site. The cup from this child's burial might become the only remnant of an entire people.

Art resides within us. Like the gravel below this bluff, art supports all our dreams and ideas. Art is archaeology, revealing truth once the surface has been removed. Everything created leaves its mark on humanity's ground — the dark outlines of births and burials; the foundations of homes and dreams long gone. Art is the search for what rests below.

Throughout human history, in every culture and time, there have been artists whose excavations went deep into human life. Poets like Emily Dickinson. Painters like Van Gogh. Their art both revealed the buried pillars of our world and became the new supports of an ever-changing world.

This cup was never alive; this child was. But the art of the cup is our connection to this child, to the child's people, and to ourselves. To all we were and all we might ever be.

Time carries off the old lands we knew as surely as a rock quarry. Art remains and builds us a new place to live. And that land will be as deep as the death mask of Tutankhamen. As solid as the plays of Shakespeare. As penetrating as the novels of Zora Neale Hurston. As visual as the photographs of William Christenberry. As quiet as the poetry of Li Bai.

And as ageless as a cup by an unknown artist, nestled in the nook of a dead child's arm.

Why do we let the silence live?

Why do we let the silence live in our genre? Why do we let it obscure the evil some genre people do to others?

The Marion Zimmer Bradley revelations shocked me when I first learned of them a week ago. But what shocked me more was that the actions of MZB and her pedophile husband were an open secret in the genre for decades. Many people even defended MZB and attacked anyone who dared speak the truth about her.

The same thing happened with Ed Kramer, who recently pleaded guilty to child molestation charges. The same veil of silence surrounded Kramer. People who dared speak the truth were attacked.

Colleen Doran had a similar experience in the genre after she was abused by a well-known publisher. As she says, "To this day, friends of this man tell people I made it up, and that this is what mentally ill girls do. Imagine the confusion I felt when I was simultaneously manipulated, abused, made to believe it was my fault, and told it never ever happened."

How many times must our genre go through this? How long must our silence protect those who use that silence to prey upon others?

 

On the Hugo Awards and politics

Today someone told me to stop tweeting my recommendations for this year's Hugo Awards because "Recommending I vote a particular way is an attempt to sway my vote." The person then unfollowed me because I'd politicized the Hugos and didn't respect my fellow voters.

Which was interesting because I have been merely stating my opinion about the authors and stories on this year's ballot. I wasn't organizing people to vote a certain way, or threatening people if they didn't vote how I wanted.

Since this happened I've been pondering this person's point of view. My speculation is that this person wants the Hugos to be a non-political award given solely on the basis of merit. While I personally disagree with this view—the Hugo Awards have always been political, as everything to do with humanity is political—I also know that many fans of science fiction and fantasy cling to this non-political dream. This position also makes these "non-political" SF/F lovers seem like the true norm in our genre. 

But as Martin McGrath so wonderfully put it today, "Attempts to deny that one's position is inherently political are often attempts to make personal prejudices appear universal." 

I wish the Hugo Awards were less susceptible to being gamed—although stating one's opinion about award finalists isn't gaming the system—and to this end I've made some suggestions. But even if the awards were improved they'd still be political. That won't change as long as humans are involved in selecting the winners.

Yes, I have strong views on the directions I'd like our genre to take. The same can be said of those in the genre I both agree and disagree with. But this isn't a bad thing. Stating one's opinion is a very simply human act. In fact, it may be the most human of acts.

People are free to listen to my opinion or ignore my opinion or debate my opinion or laugh at my opinion.

But pretending the Hugo Award aren't political is as political an act as anything our genre has seen in recent years.

Recommendations for Hugo Award for Best Fan Writer

In which I continue my charge through the Hugo Awards shortlist.

Best Fan Writer

This is a hard category to pick from. I love the attention and exposure Mark Oshiro gives to books he's reading, and I'm also a frequent reader of Abigail Nussbaum's excellent reviews and essays. Liz Bourke's column "Sleeps with Monsters" is likewise required reading to understand the portrayal of women in both our genre and the media. I could easily see myself voting for any of these people in any other year.

But in 2013, two writers stood out to me for their penetrating insight and advocacy for improving our genre — Kameron Hurley and Foz Meadows.

Kameron Hurley's fiction has shocked the SF genre like a kick to the solar plexus, with novels and stories such as God's War providing a well-needed example of what next-generation science fiction can be. But the Hugo's fan writer category isn't about professionally published fiction — it's about fan writings. And the good news here is that Hurley's fan writings are also shaking up staid genre conventions. I read her blog continually and find her Locus Magazine column to be equally powerful. For examples of her best 2013 essays, I recommend "Everybody Already Knows: How Silence About the Realities of Publishing Hurts Authors," "'We Have Always Fought': Challenging the 'Women, Cattle and Slaves' Narrative," and "Making Excuses for Science Fiction."

Foz Meadows is also working hard to challenge genre conventions and improve SF/F for everyone. Writing across multiple platforms — including her blog, Tumblr, and Twitter accounts — Meadows is one of those essayists who not only cranks open your mind but rearranges your very neurons so you can't imagine a future without her vital insights. Among Meadow's must-read essays from 2013 are "On Grittiness & Grimdark," "Old Men Yelling At Clouds: SFWA Sexism," and "Why Terry Deary Is Wrong: The Case For Libraries."

I still haven't decided my top pick between Hurley or Meadows in this category, so I'm recommending both of them. The good news is that thanks to the Hugo's ranked voting system, we can easily make them the top two choices. I also have my fingers crossed for a tie.

As I said, all of the finalists for this year's award are worthy of winning (and have a great shot at winning in the future). However, Hurley and Meadows stood out to me with their excellent commentary and essays during a difficult year for our genre. It is also thanks to insightful writers like Hurley and Meadows that I remain optimistic about the direction science fiction and fantasy is headed.

For me, that's a great reason to make them the two top picks for this year's Hugo Award for Best Fan Writer.

My previous Hugo Award recommendations