Category Archives: Uncategorized

Where Have I Been?

I vanished somewhere around July 2017. Where have I been and what have I been doing?

The short answer is that real life ate me. The longer answer involves workplace bullying, misogyny, ageism, and queerphobia; a 6-month stint of consulting and existential crises; a second tour of duty at an old (and much much friendlier) workplace; radical positive changes in friendships; and turning 50, along with an extended wodge of writer’s block.

I’m still editing Wonder City Stories volume 3 — now titled Forgotten Heroes — but I think it will be in good shape once I’m through that. Then I have the challenge of figuring out how to fund publishing it with my altered employment circumstances (a loss of supplementary income I used to have). I might do a bit of fundraising, possibly with the assistance of Madame Destiny, in order to do so.

I have a few other items that I’ve been shopping around, but no nibbles yet. We’ll see how that goes.

What writing I’ve been managing to do has either been on my genealogical books or on the world document for a tabletop RPG world that I’ve been running for my gaming group, where the characters are all from a nation of genderqueer shapeshifters. My players all want me to write novels in the world, and one of my players has induced me to work a little bit on a short story with them. Another thing that we’ll see about.

In any case, I’m working on the writer’s block, and will let you know if I’m successful at breaking it, and meanwhile will also consider the ways and means to getting Forgotten Heroes out into the world.

A Eulogy for Tom

My cousin Tom Hogan — Mr. Hogan to his many, many high school social studies students in Delaware — died on Monday July 17, 2017. I wrote a thing about him, because that’s what I do when experiencing heavy emotional weather. Today would have been his 47th birthday.

My cousins — Tom’s brothers and sisters-in-law — enjoyed this when I forwarded it to them, so I hope that other people who knew him and even people who didn’t will likewise enjoy it.

Prologue

In which I use a possibly familiar quote, which I swear will be relevant in a few moments:

“Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.”

Introduction

I’m Tom’s only first cousin on the Hogan side of the family.  I write for a living, including novels, the first of which I dedicated to Tom, describing him as one of my superheroes. And given that, I hope you will forgive the conceit by which I structured this.

Chapter One

There is a meme that circulates periodically on Facebook that says, “Our cousins are our first friends.” I love all my cousins, I really do, but there are sometimes things that preclude friendship, even in little kids — age differences, gender, that sort of thing. In my experience, the older cousins often affectionately tolerate the younger ones, and I love Mike, Bob, and Dan for tolerating me like complete champs.

Tom was two years younger than me, but I had no siblings and I apparently never learned to respect an age hierarchy. He was my first playmate and, yes, my first friend.

In the way of small children, we shared our wisdom with each other, totally uncensored.  I told him about stars and volcanoes and hurricanes, talked about my own passion for writing, and explained what I knew about the mysterious contents of our grandmother’s basement. He told me what it was like to have brothers, that I really should go see that new movie, Star Wars, how to play Monopoly — I still don’t know how to play it “properly” —  and that boys pee standing up.  

Our grandmother took us to movies, and to Janssen’s in Greenville, and made us warm egg salad sandwiches for lunch. We sat together in the back of her powder-blue 1963 Pontiac Tempest in those days before seat belt laws and didn’t poke each other. We played together in the giant metal rocketship in the park across the street from our grandmother’s house, where he convinced me to try sliding down the pole despite my fear of heights — and at his parents’ house, with his myriad toys and board games. We sat in the back of my parents’ station wagon and Tom grinned and mugged and somehow convinced a motorcyclist riding behind us to give us thumbs-ups like the Fonz.

(Not the original car, merely similar.)

He was the best kind of brother, really — the one I could have great, memorable times with, and then give back to his brothers and parents for all the rest.

I didn’t have a lot of friends as a kid: I was a tomboy, I was a nerd, I was too smart for my own good. Unlike the kids at school, Tom took me at face value with zero judgment, as a child and, later, as an adult. I was always who I was, his cousin and his friend.

Chapter Two

Tom was my benchmark for generosity.  I never knew another kid who would give things to other people so freely.  He always got tickets to St. Catherine’s carnival for his birthday — which was, as you probably know, July 30.  He always gave me some to go on rides; not even to go on rides with him, though that was great when it happened. No, just for me to go have fun.

Star Trek was our great mutual love and bonding experience. We both had the Mego Star Trek figures, and the plastic fold-out Enterprise with its spinning transporter. Tom played Captain Kirk and Mr. Scott — he had the worst Scottish accent I’ve ever heard — and I played Spock to his Kirk, cool logic to his seat-of-the-pants style.  

During one particularly destructive period of his childhood, when many of his toys were subject to cars and hammers and other methods of plastic destruction, I begged him to give me Mr. Scott. I was afraid for Scotty, you see — and, also, didn’t have a Mr. Scott of my own. Little kid, remember?  And he just handed him to me with a grin.

When I came down to see Tom for the last time, I found Scotty in my parents’ basement. I took a picture of him in the transporter of my plastic fold-out Enterprise and sent it to Tom.  

I forgot to tell him that from time to time, my wife calls me Captain Kirk now — that he taught me about doing things by the seat of my pants and succeeding despite the odds.

He continued immensely generous, giving out of some seemingly endless font of extravagant humor, love, and joie de vivre. He never stopped sharing his uncensored wisdom, though he grew a knack for turns of phrase and timing. I remember when the five of us were walking our grandmother’s coffin out of the church back in 2003. He and I were at the back and he caught my eye, patted the powder-blue coffin, and said so only I — and maybe Dan — could hear, “The Tempest!”  Nanny going out the way we most fondly remembered her.

Chapter Three

Tom was the first person who really got me as a geek. He didn’t make me feel strange about my love of science fiction — a love that has since turned into an identity and even a vocation for me. Later, he was one of the vanguard of the family who accepted other things about me.  On that first awkward family holiday when neither my wife nor I were entirely certain about our reception, he met us at the door, hugged and kissed me as usual, and just moved on to do the same with her. His deceptively simple and utterly natural act of kindness was the perfect social facilitation.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Tom became a teacher, and it pleased me that we continued to be the two weirdos in the family with our career choices.  But I certainly wasn’t surprised that he was so good at it. Every day of the last several years, it seems, I’ve seen someone on Facebook — a colleague, a student, an old friend — tell him how much of a difference he made in their lives. When I last met him for lunch, we ran into two or three of his former students who as nearly as possible gushed over him.

He touched the lives of literally thousands of people in positive, wonderful, life-changing ways.  He was larger-than-life and possessed of amazing energy — like a superhero — and he worked hard to approach everything as an adventure, endlessly interested in everything and everyone around him.  When I last visited him, he was, even as he recalled the things we did together in the past, thinking of what was ahead.  I asked him what he thought was going to happen — thinking about time tables and such — and he said, “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before,” with a big grin.

Finale

If you want to do something today, or tomorrow, or next year, or ten years from now, to remember Tom, let me make a few suggestions:

One: Support medical marijuana. Those of you who know what I’m talking about will know what I’m talking about. For the rest of you, just trust me on this.  It’s a lifesaver.

Two: Support public schools and education. If you know anything about Tom, it’s that teaching was one of his passions, and we are all more fortunate for his involvement at AI and in the lives of so many students over the years.

Three: Be generous. Lift each other up. Love recklessly. When someone tells you what they want, what they really, really want — insert Tom singing a song here — think about the words that come to your lips: are you about to squash everything they just said with what you feel is the cold, logical voice of reason? Instead, be Tom: ask them to tell you more, ask them why, and maybe dream a little with them.

Epilogue

From my memory of the final movie featuring the original Star Trek cast:

The captain swung into his command chair and said, “I think it’s about time we got underway ourselves.”

The communications officer turned from her station and said, “Captain, I have orders from Starfleet Command. We’re to put back to Spacedock immediately… to be decommissioned.”

The Vulcan science officer looked up from his screen. “If I were human, I believe my response would be ‘go to Hell.'” Then he looked at his captain and added, “If I were human.”

After a moment, the navigator said, tentatively, “Course heading, Captain?”

The captain leaned forward in his seat, gazing keenly at the viewscreen, the stars tantalizingly close and unimaginably distant, everything an undiscovered country.  He smiled and said, “Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

Mike, Dan, me, Bob, and, of course, Tom in front.

Fundraiser!

My long-time friend Leah has recently been diagnosed with metastatic inflammatory breast cancer, and so Madame Destiny and I are running a fundraiser to help!  Come see what kind of Tarot readings you can get!

http://wonder-city.dreamwidth.org/118031.html

Story in a new anthology!

Hey, if you didn’t have a chance to back our Kickstarter (for the book formerly titled Dangerous Women), your chance is here to get an amazing anthology of queer women supervillains, Absolute Power!

Absolute Power is in discounted preorders now!

Also in the TOC with me are:

  • Erica Friedman (also our editor)
  • Tristan J. Tarwater
  • Missouri Vaun
  • Barbara Ann Wright
  • Audrey Chase
  • JD Glass
  • Emily Kay Singer
  • A. Merc Rustad
  • Claire M. Jackson
  • Leia Weathington
  • Susan Smith
  • Mari Kurisato

Award Eligibility

I guess I’ll hop on the bandwagon to note the things my works are eligible for at this point.  Please only nominate if you have read the book(s) and honestly think they should be considered.

Technically, Wonder City Stories should qualify for the Campbell new writer award, but it’s self-published and they haven’t opened that up yet.  So I guess my first qualifying work there will be the short story in the Northwest Press anthology, but I’m not sure when that will be released.

Seize Your Joy

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Last Wednesday, we woke up to a nightmare. One of those nightmares where you keep hoping you’ll wake up again and find that you really were asleep.

We woke up to a country that has elected a domestic terrorist and his terrorist cronies to run our government.

These are the worst sort of terrorists: ones who have the official sanction of a vocal minority, and therefore provide a reciprocal sanction to the most deplorable members of that minority for their violence du jour. Ones who have made a variety of shortsighted, supposedly-well-meaning individuals complicit in their many and varied crimes, past, present, and future. Ones who are hiding in plain sight, visible to those of us with the perspective and will to see through to the center of the poisoned tootsie-pop.

This visibility is part and parcel of their terrorism. They want us to be terrified. They want our spirits crushed under the weight of knowing that the people who voted for them value their illusions over our actual lives. They want us to do their work for them.

Organizing, agitating, and resisting is enormous emotional labor, placed on us by people who, in voting for this administration, chose to reject the emotional labor of caring about other people.

I refuse to do the emotional labor of crushing myself for the terrorists who will soon be in the White House and Congress.

Resistance is also living as fiercely as we can.
Agitation is also loving as wildly as we can.
Organization is also partying as ferociously as we can.

We are the sharptoothed hissing goddamn opossums in this world machine, and we will fuck them up when they corner us.

Be fierce. Be wild. Be ferocious.

Seize your joy with all your claws and teeth and don’t fucking let go.

Happy Hallowe’en! Ephemera is here!

Hi, all!

From the pit of my fall cold, I fling this at thee: Ephemera is NOW AVAILABLE.

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Megan Amazon has a world of problems, and the fact that her girlfriend is possessed by the ghost of a wannabe superhero is at least 90% of them. Nereid’s girlfriend’s soul has gone on walkabout to Faerie. Simon Canis has joined the cast of It’s a Wonderful House, and it wouldn’t be reality TV without a boatload of roommate drama. There’s also a serial killer stalking Wonder City, and Suzanne and Ira Feldstein are just a few steps behind him.

And then there’s Renata Scott: the most powerful telepath in the world, who lives in a bunker a mile beneath Wonder City for her own sanity. Yet somehow she’s now in the center of this messy Venn diagram: ghost stories and fairy tales and serial killers and an addictive trainwreck of a reality TV show.

Love, lies, murder, and a long con collide with a band of reluctant heroes in an explosive battle to save the world, Wonder City-style.
***
Ephemera deals frankly with sexual consent, homophobia, transphobia, racism, death and injury, and graphic onscreen death.

Kickstarter for Dangerous Women

I have a short story — set in the Wonder City universe — in the upcoming anthology Dangerous Women from Northwest Press.  The Kickstarter launched this past weekend and we’re already 20% funded!

Please back this Kickstarter: if you do, the world gets 13 amazing stories about queer women who are supervillains!  As I say in the video, you’ll never get stories like this in the mainstream.  If we exceed our goal, the writers get bonuses!

Come help us out!

Cover Reveal!

Ephemera is running a little behind on its production schedule (mostly because I’ve had a rough summer), but here is the cover, at last!  More awesome cover art from the amazing Alex Heberling, spotlighting Nereid, new POV character Renata, and everyone’s favorite, Simon!

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Just an observation

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This is Judy Bernly, played by Jane Fonda, in the movie “9 to 5” (1980).  She is our original POV character, walking into the company with the supertoxic boss, and she joins forces with Violet Newstead (Lily Tomlin) and Doralee Rhodes (Dolly Parton) to overthrow the Patriarchy.

Meanwhile, Judy has some issues with sporting the huge bow style of the era:

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Until, of course, she hits her Empowering Fantasy Sequence:

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Of course, in “real life” in the movie, things don’t go quite so picturesquely, but they do overthrow the Patriarchy (in part) and get the promotions Dolly sings about so eloquently in the title song.

I believe that Judy Bernly is the spiritual grandmother of Erin Gilbert of Ghostbusters 2016 and the world’s tiniest bowtie.  (For a variety of reasons, not least that the characters’ presentation and roles are similar, but mostly I’m just presenting this for your consideration, not wanting to argue at all.)

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