I stick to black to avoid today’s fashion nonsense

I’m starting to sound like my grandmother when she used to bitch about the clothing “those young people are wearing”. There’s only one problem with the picture. “Those young people” are wearing the clothing my ouma wore in 1985. I kid you not. What is wrong with me? All I want is a nice (plain) black skirt or plainish lacy dress. Stuff I can wear to work or when I go out. Fabric that won’t allow the bloodstains to show.

Okay, only joking about that last sentence.

Over the years the kindergoth that I was during the mid 1990s has become relatively tame. She wears her purple army boots with long satin skirts and Type O Negative T-shirts to work and to the occasional live gig. She likes hoodies. Plainish ones. To be honest, I’m not fashion conscious. I have an ancient pair of guys’ New Rocks which I wear when I help on film sets. Most of my clothing items are hand-me-downs from friends who either degothed themselves or picked up too much weight.

I suppose I should think myself lucky. I’m skinnier now than I was when I lived with ma and pa. In fact, I fear I shall weigh 65kg till the day I die. But that’s okay. I can deal with that. It means I still wear clothing from my college days (at least the items that are not full of holes). With a wardrobe largely consisting of garments in sombre tones of black on black, with occasional highlights of pink, green or purple, I’m one of those sad folks who can throw just about anything on and not have to worry about co-ordinating.
I exist in a happy little bubble of drabness. Except I realised the other day that I needed a few items of clothing and would have to enter a store. Only now I wish I had never set foot across the threshold of The Big Retail Outlet We Won’t Name.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the customer who had somehow combined neon orange jeans with a shocking magenta minidress, a luminous yellow snood thing and screaming-green bolero jacket. It was like passing a car crash. I couldn’t help but stare. And I’m not making this description up. Another customer caught sight of my stricken expression and matched it with hers before we traded wry smiles and went our separate ways.

Huge signs in bold red proclaimed a sale on the third floor. I shrugged mentally. It couldn’t hurt to look, could it? I was wrong. I lasted all of five minutes, my eyes burning and my stomach roiling. How can fashion buyers get it so wrong? Baggy purple floral prints that look like a cross between a granny dress and a nightgown. Leopard-print jeans. Who in their right mind wears tight gold leopard-print jeans? Someone who cruises street corners in the red light district?

The women’s section wasn’t much better. I’m almost certain the buyers raided my late grandmother’s cupboard. I thought horizontal navy, white and green stripes were pretty grim during the eighties. Thirty years later, I haven’t changed my mind. Let’s not talk about the dashes of luminous orange and yellow that grabbed me by the eyeballs. In the nineties we, who survived poodle perms, neon alice bands, shoulder pads and leg warmers swore, “Never again”. We swore this for a reason. Evidently anyone born after 1994 hasn’t learnt why.

I was fortunate to escape the “fashion” retailer, and vowed to go find that dinky little second-hand and vintage clothing store on Loop Street. I’m not certain, but I think that lovely outlet has become a Somali corner café, just like every other corner store in the centre of Cape Town. Ah well. Maybe I could dash into two Slightly Smaller Retail Outlets We Won’t Name before my lunch hour was over. Suffice to say, I’ve concluded that there’s no hope for humanity this summer.

Puffy jackets. Leopard print. Gold sequins. More neon shades. Vomitous combinations of contrasting colours. I know retro’s cool but what about the rest of us who just want “normal” clothes? Actually, I don’t even think I know what normal is any more. I’ve recently started crocheting in the vain hope of creating clothing I actually would wear.

So, now you know why I still wear black, and I’m always happy to be gloriously out of fashion. At least all my clothing matches and I don’t look like my fashion was selected by a colour-blind monkey who’s imbibed vast quantities of illegal hallucinogenic substances. And, guess what? I’ll still wear black next year. And I’ll be laughing at all of you with your cot death baby blue off-the-shoulder knee-length sweaters with the silver polka dots over hernia-pink tights and wedges that make you look like you’re constantly about to fall over. You dig?

* * * *

This editorial column appeared in the Sunday Independent Life supplement on October 14.

LOOT! #amreading

Very happy to receive some new loot on my desk today to add to my TBR pile. I'll be reviewing William Horwood's Harvest and Kendare Blake's Anna Dressed in Blood soon.

Pay It Forward: It Takes a Village to Sell a Book by Paula R Stiles #guest

Today I welcome Paula R Stiles, editor and author... Over to you, Paula!

* * * *

As the editor of an online horror zine and micropress, Innsmouth Free Press, I'm on a lot of social networking sites. Naturally, most people posting on them in the writing field are looking to sell something – namely, books and magazines. Stephen King wrote in his excellent book, On Writing, that any new writer who wants to succeed should build up a peer group of other writers at about the same level, as a mutual cheering squad. I would argue that you also want to hang out with writers far ahead of you and writers just starting out, but his advice, in its basic principle, is sound. Writers are a valuable resource for each other. Too often, it's one we squander.

I often see complaints about writers doing “favors” for each other, as if it's a bad thing. I've been advised not to do reviews (I do them all the time), not to “pimp” myself out for blurbs (I do them all the time, too, if someone asks), not to “like” other writers on Facebook and other venues (Ask me and I'll do it). I see a lot of debate about what constitutes a “meaningful” review, a “good” blurb (Hint: A blurb is not the same thing as a review), whether “liking” someone on Facebook is good promotion or just a high school popularity contest. The simplest, quickest answer to this is: Good promotion is whatever sells your book.

Why should you do these favors for other writers? Aren't they fake? I would argue that no, they are not. Writers interact with two main groups in their audience – other writers and readers. Writers have a direct influence in that they write their own work and are usually more willing to donate money to fundraisers for magazines or buy other writers' books. Readers are like the lurkers on a message board. They don't directly participate, but they influence the conversation by hits on sites, comments on posts, books and magazines that they buy. You want a mix of both and you'll want to talk to both on a regular basis. Writer friends are great and most obvious in their support, but loyal readers are gold.

How do you win over fellow writers? By exchanging favors (more like promotional tasks) with them that you can't do on your own. You're all there to sell books and you don't have to stomp all over the competition to do it. Playing nice is, of course, altruistic and the right thing to do (as your mother would tell you), but it also has practical advantages. It's all very well to complain about that person who is out there hustling books all over the place (Nobody wants to be that jerk who has nothing to contribute but a commercial), but your book does need to get out there and nobody is obligated to put it out but you. Authors who write the thing and then sit back, expecting the world to beat a path to their door, are lazy jerks who are expecting everyone else to do all the work of promoting it. Uh-uh. You're the one it matters to the most. You promote it.

How do you win over readers? By writing great books they want to read, of course, but also by treating your audience well, both fellow writers and readers. You don't have to give in to every demand from your audience, but you shouldn't be a jerk, either. Sure, there are jerks who write well and succeed, but there are a lot of books out there. And your audience can always go with someone who writes just as well as you do, but who isn't a jerk.

Group promotion is especially important for anyone outside of the main publishing industry. I don't just mean the big New York publishers. I mean anyone outside of the United States. Canada and Britain are fairly well-connected to the American publishing industry, albeit not in a way that favors regional or ethnic authors very well, but Australia, China, India, Africa? Not so much. In fact, one could say that these regions are almost invisible to American audiences unless they shout – and individual writers need a collective voice for that, even in this day and age of the Internet.

Finally, in light of all the recent kerfuffle about “bought” reviews and reviews by “friends” (or self reviews, which are ultimately just mental masturbation), when is a review “meaningful”? Readers rate this differently from writers who write the review or read one for their own book. Writers need exposure. They need to get the word out, but they're up against a thousand other books with the same problem.

Readers, meanwhile, just want to know what there is to read and whether your book is worth checking out. Whether or not the review is “nice” is beside the point to them (So, guess what? Writing a nasty review about a competitor's work to sabotage them will only backfire on you). Think how you determine what you want to read. Do you use a review that is always positive and upbeat, or do you use a review (negative or not) that tells you what you want to see in a book? The answer is the latter.

A positive review makes a writer feel better, but an informative review, positive or negative, sells the book. Some readers even prefer harsh reviews because they provide more detailed information that the reviewer marshals to make his/her points about the book. Just because the reviewer didn't like it doesn't mean a reader checking out the review will feel the same way. And uninformative negative reviews of the “It sucks!” variety tend to be just ignored. So, a review that makes you go, “Ouch!” can still sell your book. Keep that in mind the next time you see a critical review and then stifle your angry retort. That reviewer is doing you a favor.

BIO
Paula R Stiles is a random citizen of the world who has sold SF, fantasy and horror to Strange Horizons, Writers of the Future, Jim Baen’s Universe, Arkham Tales, and History is Dead, among others. She also has published a cowritten mystery/SF novel, Fraterfamilias, and a non-fiction book of medieval history, Templar Convivencia: Templars and Their Associates in 12th and 13th Century Iberia. She edits the Lovecraftian online zine and micropress, Innsmouth Free Press, for her sins (which are many). Her urban fantasy novel, The Mighty Quinn, has recently been unleashed by Dark Continents onto the world. Your latest flu shot won't help. You can find and berate her at: http://thesnowleopard.net.

AfroSF with Ivor W Hartmann #guest

I've got Ivor W Hartmann, editor of an upcoming SF anthology, stopping by my blog today for a little Q&A. Welcome Ivor. Tell us a little more about your anthology. How did you go about pulling it together? 

The AfroSF: Science Fiction by African Writers anthology has been a dream of mine for five years. In 2007, I returned to writing after sixteen years armed with serious intent. The first story I wrote (or I should say completed rather) was Earth Rise, a Science Fiction short story. As soon as I looked for somewhere to publish it, preferably an African publication, the harsh realities of African publishing, and publishing for African writers in general, in 2007, became quite apparent. Including the fact, a pan-African anthology of Science Fiction by African writers only had never been published, and thus the dream of AfroSF was conceived.

Long story short, I created the micro-press StoryTime that first published StoryTime: a weekly African literature online magazine, from June 2007 to June 2012. In 2010, StoryTime launched African Roar, an annual multi-genre anthology of African writers, co-edited by Emmanuel Sigauke and I that’s now in its third year. So, by late 2011, I felt the time had come to pursue the AfroSF dream.

If one looks at the last 50 years of publishing in terms of SciFi and African writers, some real gems have never been collected into one volume. Thus, the temptation to have a mix of reprints and original works was very strong (and a lot easier in terms of editing), but the vision I had for AfroSF needed to include the forward thinking spirit embodied so well in SciFi as a genre. Therefore, in December 2011, I put out the call for submissions for original (unpublished) works only.

The first story I received for the anthology was from great and wonderful Nnedi Okorafor, which for me kind of set standard for all submissions that followed — fifty-two in total, so not a lot, but more than I had hoped for and a great start for a first anthology. In this, Lauren Beukes was also of great help when she put the word out on the subs call, and suggested a few South African writers who might be interested.

A word on the selections and editing process I employ. As with the StoryTime magazine and the African Roar's, when I read the AfroSF submissions I was looking for great themes and new ideas well expressed, in this case in the SciFi genre. This is to say, ideas and themes trumped imperfect prose, which I knew from experience could be dealt with in edits — depending on how much time the editor and writer can devote to the editing process. Now, this approach doesn't always work, but what it does do is give writers whose work I selected the chance to work on at least one edit of their story with an editor, and I could see how it went from there.  

Although I had StoryTime on hand to publish it, in terms of this anthology being a first and such I did seek bigger publishers who could get it out there in a much bigger way than I can. So, as soon as I had a rough unedited first draft I sent it out and about and did get some interest from a few publishers — which was a good sign for anthology as a whole. However, in the end no one came to the party in any serious way, so I returned to the original plan of publishing it though StoryTime — first as an eBook that will then fund a POD print edition with its sales, this being a realistic, micro-press publishing model I have used with the African Roar anthologies and I know works. However, specific country rights for the anthology will remain open for negotiation and translations, etc., if it does garner any serious interest after the first edition eBook release.
 
Who's all in it, and what are some of the stories that jump out if you want to tell potential readers more about what to expect?

The confirmed Table of Contents for AfroSF is:

Moom! Nnedi Okorafor
Home Affairs Sarah Lotz
Five Sets of Hands Cristy Zinn
New Mzansi Ashley Jacobs
Azania Nick Wood
Notes from Gethsemane Tade Thompson
Planet X S.A. Partridge
The Gift of Touch Chinelo Onwualu
The Foreigner Uko Bendi Udo
Angel Song Dave de Burgh
The Rare Earth Biram Mboob
Terms & Conditions Apply Sally-Ann Murray
Heresy Mandisi Nkomo
Closing Time Liam Kruger
Masquerade Stories Chiagozie Fred Nwonwu
The Trial Joan De La Haye
Brandy City Mia Arderne
Ofe! Rafeeat Aliyu
Claws and Savages Martin Stokes
To Gaze at the Sun Clifton Gachagua
Proposition 23 (Novelette) Efe Okogu

You know, when you work with writers on stories for an anthology all the way from selection to a final, it becomes hard to have favourites. Each story had something in it that appealed to me initially as a lifelong avid SciFi reader, which was then developed further in edits (where required). So they all became very close to my heart, like having a big extended family.

The AfroSF stories have a bit of everything in the realm of SciFi, from Comic, Military, Hard, Soft, to Apocalyptic, Space Opera, Cyberpunk, Biopunk, Aliens, and even Time Travel, and more, and fairly liberal mixings thereof. The stories represent a diversity of voices and themes specifically rooted in the SciFi genre, from some stellar established and upcoming African writers.

What was your aim in putting the call out for the stories? 

To start with, SciFi, like most fiction genres that aren’t Contemporary, except perhaps Romance and Crime to an extent, is highly underdeveloped in African literature as a whole. Now I could go into all the reasons why, but let’s look to the future instead.

SciFi is the only genre that enables African writers to envision a future from our African perspective. Moreover, it does this in a way that is not purely academic and so provides a vision that is readily understandable through a fictional context. The value of this envisioning for any third-world country, or in our case continent, cannot be overstated, nor negated. Science Fiction helps drive social and technological change. If you can’t see and relay an understandable vision of the future, your future will be co-opted by someone else’s vision, one that will not necessarily have your best interests at heart, at all. Thus, Science Fiction by African writers is of paramount importance to the development and future of our continent.

These were the main aims in taking a leap of faith and putting out a call to all African writers across the continent and abroad for this anthology.

Where can folks find the anthology? 

AfroSF will hit all the Amazon sites in an eBook edition first in December 2012. Then, depending on sales to fund it, we will release a POD print edition later to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. It will also be signed up to Paperight, a fantastic new company that can turn any photocopy shop worldwide (and especially in Africa) into a budget books printer and seller. So in essence, AfroSF is not only a SciFi anthology in content but in its publishing and distribution too.  

BIO

Ivor W Hartmann, Zimbabwean writer, editor, publisher, visual artist, and author of Mr. Goop (Vivlia, 2010). Nominated for the UMA Award (Earth Rise, 2009), awarded The Golden Baobab Prize (Mr. Goop, 2009), and finalist for The Yvonne Vera Award (A Mouse amongst Men, 2011). His writing has appeared in African Writing Magazine, Wordsetc, Munyori Literary Journal, Something Wicked, The Apex Book of World SF V2, and other publications. He runs the StoryTime micro-press, publisher of the African Roar annual anthologies and AfroSF, and is on the advisory board of Writers International Network Zimbabwe.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte #review

Ralph Fiennes will always be my Heathcliff

I first read Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë at the tender age of fourteen, and remember quite clearly that it was my birthday, and my mom and dad took me out to the movies. One glance at the poster and I declared we’d go watch Wuthering Heights starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche, and that was that. I was transported by the thwarted romance that played out on the bleak Yorkshire moors. Of course I had to go read the book straight after, and while my youthful self probably didn’t “get” half the relationship dynamics or the full depth of the dialogue, I nonetheless knew this is a book I’d need to reread at some point.

Fast forward 20 years (gee whizz, it’s been *that* long) and I downloaded the book from Gutenberg.org – a far cry from the battered paperback copy I inherited from the family home, and was immediately transported – again.

Wuthering Heights is primarily a story about relationships, and of people who willfully twist and allow others to twist them. We are first introduced to our narrator, a chap by the name of Lockwood, who has rented the grand Thrushcross Grange (complete with its own park lands). I get the idea the chap is a bit of a poseur, who’s quite oblivious and gauche when it comes to how he relates to people. Self-absorbed. I missed this in the first read. Kudos to Brontë for having a narrator I’d cheerfully slap. I mean, the fool goes blundering in to visit the inhabitants of Wuthering Heights when it’s perfectly clear to anyone else with half an ounce of common sense that they do not appreciate the intrusion of a stranger.

But Lockwood is our narrator, and it’s clear the mystery presented by the relationships he encounters captivates his imagination to the point where he’s determined to uncover they mystery that has presented itself. (My inner cynic cheerfully comments: “Well, what do you expect? They didn’t have reality TV in those days.)

Not one to take a hint when he’s not wanted, Lockwood plays voyeur, and an ill-timed visit results in him having to spend the night at Wuthering Heights and subject himself to the ghost of Catherine – one of the key scenes.

But the story’s layers get peeled back. Lockwood’s housekeeper at Thrushcross Grange is none other than Ellen (or Nelly, as she’s know by those who’re familiar with her), who grew up with the main participants in this drama. Her narration of past events is then retold by Lockwood, so once again our perceptions as readers are coloured by the lens of yet another viewpoint. We are faced with not only the opinions of Lockwood, but that of Ellen. Unreliable narrators both, but in their opinions, we view our main players with a degree of separation. We vicariously live out the unfolding tragedy from a safe distance while debating on characters’ true motivations.

Most often, Wuthering Heights is pegged as a romance and, to a degree I agree that romance is an underlying theme but I prefer to view it as a tragedy, of characters denying their true natures and being destroyed by the prolonged act of revenge.

We enter a complex interconnecting web of relationships and the intermingling of two families. Always, Heathcliff is the outsider. Brontë suggests that he is dark, perhaps of gypsy stock, and Catherine and Hindley Earnshaw’s father brought the foundling home. The lad was closer in age to Catherine than her brother, and the two were soon inseparable. But when Catherine’s path intersects with that of the wealthy Lintons of Thrushcross Grange, and specifically their son, Edgar, she is soon torn.

The unsophisticated Heathcliff is her dark half, an animus as such, wild and unfettered, yet Edgar represents culture and an artificial, societal construct of what “love” is supposed to be. Catherine is at a quandary, and it is her decision to marry Edgar that sets the wheels in motion for the unfolding drama.

Yes, this is a tale of thwarted love, but it’s also an illustration of how individuals will consciously choose a path that can only lead to damnation. What I found fascinating was comparing my initial response as a teenager to how I felt about the novel now, twenty years later. I recall feeling so sorry for how rotten Catherine’s life turned out. Now? Well, I’d dearly love to shake some sense into the girl. All the characters are unlikable  There is nothing romantic about Heathcliff’s all-consuming passion for Catherine. And Catherine is a willful  stubborn girl who’s used to bending everyone around her to her whims, unmindful of the damage she is causing to herself and those around her.

This made me think, however, about the relative ages of the characters in the story. They were but teenagers themselves, who behaved as such. The only difference is that in those days, folks getting married as young as eighteen was not unheard of. Now, you sit back and think about how your life would have turned out had you married your first sweetheart (you’re excused if it’s two decades later and you’re still happily married to your first love).

I think about my first love and where we’d be now if we were still together, and probably miserable as all hell to boot. Let’s not go there. I’m glad I never felt obligated to marry someone, and that when I did finally get married (yes I married young at twenty-two) I’m still very much in love with the man but glad I’d had experience with other relationships.

And lastly, Heathcliff. Wuthering Heights is really his story, if you ask me, and he suffers a bit of a dog-in-the-manger syndrome. He cannot have happiness, and has focused his entire existence on ensuring that no one else will have happiness. Heathcliff is ultimately tragic, but I don’t pity him, as he mastered his own fate and has essentially cursed himself. In the end, he cannot bring himself to carry out the final act of his schemes, and loses the taste for revenge. Instead, he turns the sickness inward. The world continues without him, in spite of his machinations, and he consumes his own heart.

Wuthering Heights falls under the category of the Gothic novel, along with the likes of Frankenstein. Supernatural elements are hinted at, and I suspect it’s left up to the reader to decide whether these exist. This is one of the novels that I recommend to all aspiring authors to read. As a study on character development, Wuthering Heights is essential. Yes, the language usage takes a little getting used to but if you can get into the story, you’ll gain an appreciation as to why this is one of those classics that has inspired film and music. (Go check out Kate Bush’s music videos on YouTube.)

RIP Oswald (January 1, 2000 to October 2, 2012)

Today my mom called with bad news. I hate those phone calls: "Nerine, ek het slegte nuus".

It would appear that my sibling ran over Oswald, my family's beloved Boston Terrier x Pug. Now Ozzy, as I called him, was originally my dog, but my parents decided to keep him when I moved out. Granted, I was a bit miffed at the time, but my dad was nuts about Ozzy, so he stayed with my parental unit, eventually moving to Swellendam with the folks.

It wasn't too bad. I still got to see the crazy critter whenever I visited. Recently, my parents downscaled to a retirement village, and couldn't keep pets, so Ozzy went to go live with my sister.

Yeah, I'm pissed off. Ozzy liked to snooze in the shade in the driveway. My sibling *could* have looked. But jawellnofine, at least he died quickly, and it wasn't something horrible, like him getting cancer or getting chewed up by another dog.

So, this is Ozzy as I like to remember him. He was a total clown. Oh, and by the way, I named him after The Penguin, Oswald Pepperpot. Wherever you're hunting, Oz, have a good one. You were one helluva dog.

Monster Fang Month

Because I'm so ridiculously proud of Crooked Fang, the novel by Carrie Clevenger for whom I played editor, I'm also happy to give a splash on my blog today to share the fact that she's running a special for the month of October. It's available in print and electronic formats.

If you have no idea who or what Crooked Fang is, it's a story featuring a vampire--one Xan Marcelles--and he's a total breath of fresh air in the genre.

But instead of me doing all the talking, I'm going to pull some quotes from happy readers off Goodreads.

"Xan is a completely lovable character, even when he's doing his best to screw things up. A breath of fresh air in a sea of stagnant vampire books! This book is not to be missed." ~ Synde

"Oh yay, another vampire, I hear you cry. Stop right there. Forget for a moment that Twilight ever existed, and give Crooked Fang a go. Why? Because sometimes you can almost forget that CF's hero, Xan Marcelles, is even a vampire. I prefer to think of him as a grumpy, whisky-drinking, chain-smoking bassist who's going to live for a really, really long time." ~ Icy Sedwick

"He’s a gritty, heady mix of biker/ musician hottie next door and badass vampire trying very hard to just stay off everyone’s radar. There will be no ruffled poet shirts here. Expect lots of whiskey and cigarettes, Harleys and muscle cars, and references to rock music that will span most of the history of rock. He’s also got a low tolerance threshold for bullshit, but that doesn’t stop him from ending up in it." ~ Suz

"There were a few scenes in Crooked Fang that absolutely set me back on my heels, scenes of such crystalline, short-leashed violence, such visceral power, that I felt my blood pressure rising and my breath catch in my throat. That doesn’t happen often with me and, when it does, I can’t help but shake my head in jealous admiration and say, 'damn, that’s some good writing.'" ~ Cathy Olliffe Webster

Well, what are you waiting for? This is, in my books, one of the best vampire stories to hit the shelves this year, and I'm the darndest luckiest editor to have seen this story and snatched it up. I don't think you're going to get this one as cheaply as it is right now. Ever again.