I need you to do some clicking, it will only take a second.
Is it done? Come on, it’s two clicks. It’s a nifty way to get all the new releases we’ve got lined up, you’re already missing out, you know.
Done?
Nice.
You can go now.
There’s a project out there, that is quite interesting. Future Fiction translates sci-fi stories from selected authors around the world and makes them available in English (And Italian, apparently).
Finding the books on Amazon is a mess, to be honest. You can start with a search on Kindle here. Or you can buy directly from the Future Fiction website.
The one I want to point out to you is the one containing two excellent shorts by my mentor, Michalis Manolios. Mentor is a strong word when you’ve had as many beers together as we’ve had, but it’s accurate. I think it was 2010, maybe 2009 when he read my stories, pushed me forward and told me I could do this, and do it well. I was fascinated with fantasy back then, but my true calling has been science fiction apparently. I shifted towards sci-fi and I honed my craft every year. The results seem to be good, as shown by reader reactions and sales numbers.
So, Michalis has two of his best short stories translated into English. They are not my favourite but they are definitely good. The stories in that Greek collection are pretty mindblowing, and these two fit the bill. Aethra and Quantum Mommy.
The rest of the volumes are either a single novella or two short stories from authors around the world. It’s a shame that we don’t have access to these stories, and that’s what I like about Future Fiction, they bring these unreachable gems to English, thus making them available to us. Some authors you’ve never heard of, naturally, others are quite well known in their countries.
Everything in the collection has the feel of old-school sci-fi, like the books I have in my bookcase. The covers, the stories, the atmosphere is a way to go back to that time when science fiction showed us what was possible instead of just shoving dystopian warnings at us. Which I’m guilty of, obviously.
Kazuo Ishiguro has won the Nobel prize in literature this year, and we’re ecstatic.
Why?
Well, the reason is that some people think that genre fiction is somehow less than literary, as if the injection of a fantastical or a technological element somehow lessens the impact of a perfect story.
Here’s the article about his Nobel:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/oct/05/kazuo-ishiguro-wins-the-nobel-prize-in-literature
And here’s Ishiguro’s opinions about transhumanism:
https://futurism.com/kazuo-ishiguro-soon-we-will-be-able-to-create-humans-who-are-superior-to-other-humans/
Ishiguro, like Heinlein before him with Stranger In A Strange Land, has proven that you can talk about love, you can talk about science fiction, you can talk about mortality and make it shine.
Start reading Ishiguro’s books and see for yourself.
What I really like about him is a tidbit of a belief that I have injected into my own stories, this quote below:
Like the saying goes, history is written by the victors. But history is rewritten every day, in every tiny event, in any major revelation. Steve Jobs was said to ignore facts that didn’t match his beliefs.
And people, when they tell themselves that something happened a certain way, they alter reality for themselves. Because it’s impossible to be truly objective, you can only be subjective and hope for the best.
The God Complex Universe is a warped version of events, a splintered timeline branching out from 2009, in which people have told themselves how certain events happened and have affected the future.
And when a powerful billionaire tells himself that something happened a certain way, everybody bends to his will eventually.
As for Kazuo Ishiguro, we can state for certain that he did it by himself, he won the Nobel prize fair and square. No Muses were dispatched.
Honest.
Patronage. Just like the practice of old, we’ve resurrected the model into a digital mold, more fitting to the age.
Micropatronage, having a bunch of regular people pitching in small amounts instead of one wealthy patron, is being successful with plenty of examples.
What I had was a PILE of story ideas sitting on my projects folder. Some have merit, some are simply the butt of a joke. Others are pretty damn brilliant, I might say.
I took all that and decided to squeeze out at least one short story per month. That way, I can see the works-in-progress slowly thinning down, I can test them with real people and real readers, and see which one’s a winner and which one’s a dud.
I’ve been doing that already with the Epic Poets, but to be honest, I firmly believe in putting one’s money where one’s mouth is. Feedback from fans is excellent, but feedback from people who have paid a dollar carries much more weight.
Also, I have plenty of ideas that fall into fantasy or urban fantasy. At some point, as I burn through the sci-fi ones, I’ll eventually work on those too. Having patrons will provide a steady and verifiable metric that my output will be worth the time invested. I’m bound to change a lot of this on my Patreon page, I just threw one up quickly.
There’s a short story waiting for you right now, called “Life Coach.”
So, click the orange button to get a steady flow of speculative fiction short stories. I’m your story-dealer. Be patronizing. Or just share the post with your friends.
Two weeks ago:
It was a secure white room, in a nondescript basement owned by Moiragetis Holdings. The three women were perched upon their marble pedestals, mumbling and threading the flow of information.
The women, dressed in white, seemed aged beyond their years. Their thin hair barely flowed, their frail hands moving, twitching, as if working the air with purpose.
Bundles of flashing and glowing optic fibres were feeding into their backs, directly into their spine. They connected them to the server at the room below, an unlisted supercomputer with a singular purpose.
Their eyes were glazed white, for they could not see in the conventional sense. Their optic nerves had been claimed by the stream of data. In front of their eyes, it was as if the internet was the Earth’s seas and rivers, and you had struck a blow in the rockface and made a marvellous shower erupt, the rays of the sun making rainbows in the mist. It was like that, each second of each day, for the three Moirai.
Klotho, to weave the thread of data.
Lachesis, to measure the thread and assign it to its proper owner,
And Atropos, to cut the thread at its proper place.
For data was fate and fate was data. For if one person or three could see the twists and turns of fate, they could see the immediate future and seeing the future meant seizing it. Snatching it out of the infinite possibilities and probabilities in the quantum foam of the universe and forcing it to gel into existence, an Observer making electrons decide on molecular trajectories by the mere push of his gaze.
There was one misunderstanding, though.
Fate was not tailored to a person, as it was commonly believed. No. Fate was a given constant, only the person it was assigned to was the thing to be decided.
Take the Twelve Labors of Hercules, for example. One might think that Fate came with the life of the person itself, the demigod, despised by Hera and forced to endure endless tragedies. In truth, the Fate of Hercules was a constant, and it happened to befall upon the poor man. Like a story looking for its protagonist.
“Sister?” Klotho wheezed.
“Yes, my dear?” Lachesis replied in the same rasping whisper.
“Take note of this particular thread of Fate,” Klotho said and passed the data on to her left.
“Oh, my, what a nasty one this is!” Lachesis rasped and measured the thread of data.
Klotho turned her cataract eyes to her sister, watching with interest as she worked the thread. “To whom shall we assign this, Sister?”
“Give it to me,” snapped Atropos, the nastiest and oldest sister, as she snatched the thread from them. “Yes,” she said with delight as she cut the thread. “Yes, yes, yes.” She picked up another thread of data from the folds of her white dress, it seemed as if she was saving it for a special occasion. She spun and weaved the smaller thread to the original one, matching twists and making ends disappear. It was an expert’s work.
The younger sisters turned to her side, dreading to interfere. A woman’s face showed up in the shower of Augmented Reality they saw, along with every bit of data about her. Every keystroke she ever pushed, every step she ever took, every frame of video she ever watched and was in. Her life, digitised. They gasped. “Can she endure it?” the two sisters said in unison.
Atropos, finally done with her work, smiled.
I’m about to share the best review I’ve ever got. Caron at Diminishing Thoughts blog was kind enough to read and review my book, “Crying Over Spilt Light.”
And now, get this:
It’s a 2 star review.
Why am I happy about a 2 star review, you might ask if you have your brains still attached to your body? Because, here are some quotes:
Thing is though, as annoyed as the layout of this book made me, I can’t say I hated it, because I didn’t. I’m glad I waited a while to write this review because I was so pissed off and I honestly have no idea why. But as I said, I didn’t hate it but the plot was not something I enjoyed. I continued reading because the author’s writing was amazing. I’m actually in a state of awe over how much I loved the writing. I know that this review was basically me contradicting myself the entire time but my brain is still in shambles over this dang book. And the absolute best:
I’ve come to realise whilst reading this novella that I do not like androids. I seem to have developed a deep dislike for them and probably won’t be picking up another book that features them ever again.Not exactly what I intended, but I’ll take it! 🙂 I’m sorry Caron for ruining androids for you forever. I better put a warning label on it.
Read Crying Over Spilt Light here.
Caution: May cause deep dislike for androids in your chosen literature. You have been warned.
ADVENT: 24 Days of Christmas – Seasonal Mega Box Set: 24 Books – 24 Authors
Advent: A festive book for every single day of December right up to Christmas Day! Seasonal stories to warm your winter nights. Ho Ho Ho Happy Reading!
Stella Wilkinson – A Christmas Gift
Cynthia E. Hurst – Potluck
A.E. Wasp – Christmas Outing
Tony Bertauski – Claus (Legend of the fat man)
Kristy Tate – Witch Wishes
Stacy Claflin – Seaside Christmas
DeAnna Cameron – Jingly Bells
Lucy Shea – Christmas with you
Demelza Carlton – Maid for the South Pole
George Saoulidis – The Impossible Quest of Hailing a Taxi on Christmas Eve
Lisa Grace – 12 Angels by Christmas
J.J. Green – Carrie Hatchett’s Christmas
Shay Roberts – Christmas with the Vampire
Jeanette Raleigh – Elemental Angel : A Time for Peace
Caroline Mickelson – Miss Kane’s Christmas
David Neth: Snow after Christmas
Minna Lune – The Christmas Wish
C. Coal – Puppy Love Holiday Surprise
Susan Amanda Kelly – Cooked Goose
Janice Croom – Death of a Murder Magnet
CeeCee James – Kisses in the Snow
DJ Shaw – A break from the blood
Ya Ya Blassingame – Missing in Rome Harbor
Jessie G. Talbot – B or How the Bogeyman didn’t save Christmas
99 Cents Only
Buy on AmazonBuy on Amazon UKBuy on iTunesBuy on Nook Buy on Kobo Buy on Google Play BooksThe war games are on, but the real battle has just begun…
The entire Alliance is ready for the war games. The spectacular show of innovation and strength may change the way war is waged, but on far-flung worlds, devastating incursions have already begun. The Merkiaari are back, but news can only travel as fast as a foldspace drone.
Captain Eric Penleigh of the 501st Infantry Regiment looks forward to an easy assignment. All he needs to do is evaluate the best cutting-edge tech the Alliance has to offer and make nice with new alien allies. But when preparation for the games turns into a deadly war, nobody will be ready for what comes next…
Incursion is the long-awaited fifth book in the Merkiaari Wars series. If you like breathtaking space battles and heart-pounding military sci-fi, then you’ll love Mark E. Cooper’s latest entry in the beloved space opera saga.
All stores/ vendors
Yeah, I noticed the trend and it bugs me a little. No, people, dystopian doesn’t mean post-apocalyptic. Post-ap is something after a major catastrophe, dystopian means Orwellian surveillance nightmare. You know, kinda like the God Complex Universe.
Sometimes the two genres overlap like in the Hunger Games, but one does not necessarily mean the other. Anyway, here are some grim and post-apocalyptic books for you to choose from.
You’ll find all that, and most importantly, you’ll find it across all major retailers. Yeah, we’ve made it the norm.
Any shop you prefer, we’re on it. First weekend of November only, 5-6 Nov. Get ready cause it’s closing in fast.
Samhain is the original version of the Halloween celebration.
We’ve got a cool giveaway running, in which you sign up for the Mythic Fiction Promos, choose a book from the listed mythic series and comment on the Facebook post below. What are you waiting for?
