There will be two winners this week. Today I’m giving away two mmpb copies of DAMNED NATION, an anthology of horror shorts that has been out of print for a few years.

The description of the anthology is simple enough: Hell on earth. Dangerous visions of incarnate damnation visited upon our delicate world by some of today’s most imaginative authors, including William F. Nolan, Poppy Z. Brite, Tom Piccirilli, Randy Chandler, Weston Ochse, Geoffrey Girard, and more. All new, never before published stories.

I’ve read most of the stories (twenty-two in all). I’ve honestly enjoyed each one. My particular favorites are the Piccirilli and Girard entries.

To enter, all I ask is that you share in a comment below your favorite Apex Magazine story or your favorite Apex Publications book. Easy enough, right?

Two winners will be chosen next weekend. The winners will be announced as a comment to this post.

Most writers can tell you where he or she was when they wrote their first ‘real’ story.

Most writers can tell you how they feel about writing and what it means to them.

Most writers can tell you where they were when they got their first acceptance.

Every writer can tell you about how their passion takes a toll on their friends and family.

There are a lot of milestones in a writer’s life, some bigger than others. There are many reasons why we do what we do. For some of us, me included, we write because we have to. Trust me, you don’t want be around me if I haven’t written anything in few days. I’m antsy. I’m moody. Heck, I’m downright mean if the writing is hitting the skids. But when the writing’s flowing? It’s bliss in the house; I even take out the trash without having to be asked. I give my girl kisses for no reason; I don’t kick the dogs as much (kidding about that last one).

I’ve often wondered why I have such severe mood swings. Is there something wrong with me? Should I be taking meds like all the other authors I know? When I stop to think about it, my moods are usually tied directly to my writing. It’s either good or it’s bad, there usually is no in between. I’m either a dick or I’m a teddy bear. If I’m honest, I hate the way that makes me feel, the way it affects the special people in my life and everyone else around me. Why does writing mean this much to me? It’s just making up stories in my head, right?

Why do we do this to ourselves? Spending months digging up old memories, picking at old scars, gutting our pain and putting it all on display, just so we can put it into our work. Is writing always easy? No. Will it ever be? I don’t think it should be easy or pleasant, because if it is all nicey-nice, then where’s the meat? If writing ever becomes easy, then you’re not digging deep enough to make it hurt. If it doesn’t affect YOU as the writer, then it sure as hell won’t affect the reader. That’s why I’ve been drawn to horror. To me, horror allows me the most freedom to explore dark subject matter and imprint my personal demons into the fiction. Each and every person has been betrayed by someone they love and readers seem to connect with the characters I write about. I’ve been accused of not being very nice to my characters. I tend to put them through hell. I have very few happy endings in my work, if any. And if it seems happy, there’s always a darkness lurking just around the corner for my characters. When I first started out in this business I was under the impression I needed to shock the reader with blood, gore, and violence. I wrote a few of those stories, but those stories were lacking. They had paper-thin characters that only existed to be tortured. I was very lucky to have some great mentors in this business and I learned much from them. They taught me that a story needs a soul or the reader will just move on and forget it as soon as they’ve read it. You inject that ‘soul’ into a work by using real situations that have happened in your personal life. Once I discovered this, my work changed. I realized that real life was scarier than any monster I could come up with. Sure, I still have monsters in my stories, but they are archetypes now.

The story has to speak to me, I think. There has to be reason why I’m sitting down to spend time in this world. What do I get out of it? I’ve written a lot of stuff that will never see the light of day. It was for me; it was something that I needed to deal with on a personal level. Writing is my way of coping with everything around me. Sometimes those stories end up being submitted. Some of those stories ended up in The Monster Within Idea.

What it finally comes down to is this:

When you get the email, letter or phone call and editor on the other end says they dug your story or novel and they’d love to publish it, that’s what makes it all worth it. My first time around with an acceptance was amazing. The feeling is still there with each acceptance, even after all these years. I sit back savor the accomplishment for a brief moment, and then it’s back to ripping those old wounds open again and pouring it out on the page all over again.

In the beginning, I’d hoped that feeling wouldn’t fade with each acceptance. It hasn’t. These days, I hope it doesn’t fade, cause honestly, I’m a great big teddy bear right now and I love the way it feels…

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R. Thomas Riley is a horror writer living in the distant lands of North Dakota. He’s famous around these parts for his horror collection The Monster Within Idea from Apex Publications.

You can visit his web home at www.rthomasriley.com.

Speculative fiction is about creating other worlds.  Often, those worlds are based quite closely on our own, and diverge at some point (past, present, or future) to become the setting for an author’s imagination.   In other instances, these worlds are intentionally displaced from our baseline reality and are presented as other worlds entirely (far more common in fantasy than in science fiction or horror).  And, on some occasions, a writer (whether of story or screenplay), will create multiple realities instead of just one.  All of these different settings can employ language and tropes in common, but are structured and presented in distinctive narrative and contextual patterns.  This is the process of other-worlding, of creating new landscapes, histories, and peoples, and that process is what I love most about speculative fiction.

There are many methods that speculative storytellers use to conjure divergent worlds and get the reader or viewer to suspend their disbelief and play along with these fanciful constructs.  Instead of examining how the worlds function in terms of background and creation (which is what we usually talk about, and which you can find entire websites and books about), I want to consider briefly how writers (and directors) present other worlds for us to apprehend, focusing on two examples of worlds within (or parallel to) other worlds.  How does the unfamiliar get framed in the process of other-worlding a story?

Let’s take a popular example: the infamous Mirror Universe of Star Trek.  In the episode Mirror, Mirror Captain Kirk and some of his crew are displaced to a  universe that is the polar opposite of their own.   Instead of the Federation, we have the Empire, a cutthroat place where scheming, torture, and assassination are common and there exist duplicates of all the familiar crew members of the Enterprise.  The plot is straightforward: the Federation crew has to figure out how to get back to their own world before Captain Kirk is killed for disobeying an order of genocide.  A combination of using the Mirror Universe’s rules and sticking to their own morals (primarily by saving Mirror Spock’s life and planting a seed of revolution in him) allow the crew to survive and get back to the Federation.  The twists exist not in the plot progression, but in the resolution of conflict points by acts of philosophical aikido, of turning evil’s strength against itself.

The other-worlding here is easy and basic: while the Empire ship seems quite familiar, it and the crew are distinguished by a more barbaric demeanor, gold sashes, and the Imperial logo of a sword cutting through the planet Earth, clearly contrasted by the mannered, plainly-uniformed folks from the UN-like Federation of Planets.  The inhabitants of the Mirror Universe are less restrained and more passionate than their counterparts, but are also tainted, reversed morally, almost literally (as seen in the early image of the two parallel ships’ images passing through each other on screen) from the Federation crew.  It is only by confronting that taint, which Kirk does at the end of the episode, and exposing its illogical nature that they can escape to the implied moral certitude of their own universe.

Contrast this with a more recent and complex example of other-worlding: that of China Miéville’s novel The City & The City. In this setting, the worlds in question are not parallel, but overlap and intrude on each other.  The cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma occupy the same space somehow, and while they are in some ways opposites (Beszel is less advanced and wealthy than its counterpart), they are intimately mingled with each other, to the point where inhabitants of each city only wear certain colors and are trained from early childhood to “unsee” the other city that is often all around them.  The cities have a history of conflict, but are currently in a state of grudging co-existence, each trying to ignore the other so as not to create a breach, a transgression of recognition that causes a mysterious force called Breach to swoop in and restore the anxious, forced equilibrium of the fused metropolises.  When a murder is committed a Besz police inspector is forced to confront the history and mythology of the two cities to solve the case.

Here other-worlding is not set up with easy contrasts, but through the process of seeing these two conjoined worlds through one person’s eyes.  Inspector Borlú provides a perspective that is somewhat critical but also steeped in the given-ness of unseeing. He knows the significance of cross-hatching (even if the reader initially does not), of how to not look at certain people, cars, buildings.  The reader is not given clear signs of difference, but has to infer them through the narrator’s gaze.  The plot here is, also, pretty straightforward, a weird-noir police procedural not of forensic techniques, but of existential disjunctures and selective blindness.  In a world where you must spend most of your time studiously not observing parts of your environment, how do you solve a murder that may bridge the two worlds that are simultaneously entangled and distant?

What unites both of these examples is that their other-worlding emerges from a basic philosophy contained within the story’s perspective.  Star Trek is a classically black-and-white (or white-and-black) world, and thus the other world is set in direct opposition to the one that viewers are presented with normally.  In Miéville’s work, the philosophy is more complex; the different worlds of the two cities are intertwined, mis-recognized, and only fully exist in tension with each other.  To unsee one another is to create artificial boundaries between environments that are obviously crossing each other all over the place.  Reality is a question that has to be answered with selective vision that is subordinate to nationalism, cultivated ignorance of the Other, and fear of a power that can intervene instantly when the rules are broken.

Both of these worlds are engaging because beneath them lie profound questions.  While in the Star Trek episode the form of the question is simplistic, the worlds are more than mirror images of one another. One exists to teach a lesson, the other to learn a lesson.  The Mirror Universe is in need of the intervention provided by Kirk and his crew, and in keeping with the spirit of the show, evil provides opportunity for good, while good provides the spark for change.  The difference between the good and evil worlds has to be marked obviously so that the philosophical underpinnings are continuously before the viewers’ eyes.

In the merged cities of Miéville, those boundaries are not hard, or even obvious sometimes.  Caution must be taken constantly to re-solidify the boundaries, because the differences between the two cities are more ephemeral, and are artificially exaggerated.  The cities have diverged from a common source, but are more than just reflections of each other.  Their relationship is one of avoidance and co-dependence simultaneously.  The inhabitants of these worlds must deal with each other constantly, demarcating their differences by ritually ignoring each other.  This produces constant nervousness and deference in the artificial maintenance of difference, raising questions of identity and othering that the novel does not solve, but forces the reader to ponder beyond the resolution of the plot.

This is when other-worlding really starts to get interesting, when you can see how a world exists to ask a question, but not always to provide a solution.

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John Ginsberg-Stevens is a writer, anthropologist, and bookseller who is in his fourth decade of being an SF fan and semi-professional geek. He is married to a red-headed fiddler and father of an infant geek apprentice, whose Jedi mind tricks are coming along just fine. He is working on a novel and is a biweekly columnist for Forces of Geek.

John’s writing blog is at www.eruditeogre.blogspot.com.

We have just given away an ARC of the to-be-released horror anthology Dark Faith. Congratulations to Laura Petersen! Only forty of these ARCs were produced. So not only will Laura own a particularly rare version of a particularly awesome anthology, she’ll be able to read the book several months in advance of its May 1st release. (Laura, let us know what you think of Jennifer Pelland’s “Ghosts of New York,” okay?)

How did Laura get so lucky?

Let’s call it a bit of…serendipity…

Laura is a member of The Apex Army, meaning that she donated at least $10 to the continued operation of Apex Magazine. As a member of the Apex Army, you’re granted certain…perks…one of which will be that you’re entered into drawings to win Apex swag.

Future perks will include a ‘subscriber’ only area of the Apex website. This area will include such things as additional fiction, non-fiction, interviews, closer access to Apex authors and editors, and whatever else we think a subscriber might enjoy.

Have we whetted your appetite? Do you want a chance to win stuff AND show your support for a professional-level paying magazine?

If you do, then click here. This will take you to our store where you can order a subscription.

If you don’t, then click here. But remember…what is seen cannot be unseen.

We tend to define a genre by what we call the “elements” of that genre. A lot of these elements are plot points or “furniture” that such stories have in common. Defining a genre is a way of helping readers find new fiction similar to stories they’ve read before and enjoyed. For example, and to be rather simplistic about it, if you have liked previous stories that you have read that have spaceships in them, you’re likely to enjoy reading new stories with spaceships in them.

At the conclusion of my last essay, I said that I’d discuss how I see Romance as a genre fitting into my “flow of acceptance” diagram. As a reminder, the point I made last time is that there is a hierarchy of acceptance when it comes to genre. If a story has elements of both science fiction and mystery, readers will tend to think of it as a Science Fiction story more than as a Mystery story. So those who identify themselves as science fiction readers are more likely to read and enjoy a science fiction mystery than those who identify themselves as mystery readers.

Where does this hierarchy come from? I think reader acceptance of genre elements has to do with one simple concept: realism.

When readers pick up a so-called Mainstream story, one that perhaps we can pigeonhole as “non-genre” if there is such a thing, those readers have certain expectations when approaching that story. In essence, they expect a story set in the real world, in which only real-world things happen. These events may be improbable, or even outlandish, but they wouldn’t violate the natural order of the world as we believe it to exist.

By definition, a science-fiction, fantasy or (supernatural) horror story is not set in that same sort of world. To properly enjoy the story, the reader has to practice what is called “willing suspension of disbelief.” I know that zombies don’t really exist, the reader thinks, but I’ll suspend my disbelief long enough to enjoy, say, The Changed by B.J. Burrow.

And not every reader is equipped to suspend their disbelief this way. Tastes differ, and some readers just don’t enjoy reading tales of the fantastic. For them, any story with elements of science fiction, fantasy, or supernatural horror would be right out. A story with mystery elements would be more acceptable, because crimes do happen and mysteries do get solved in the real world.

But as for romance…ah, as the poet might say, romance is what brings us all together.

Even more so than mystery, people expect that romance will be a part of everyday life. Therefore, if you write a story without any fantastic element in it, but with romance in it, it’ll be more palatable to the non-genre reader.

Let’s look at my “flow of acceptance” again:

Mainstream > Mystery > Science Fiction > Fantasy > Horror

If I were inclined to include the Romance genre, I would revise the flow of acceptance to look like this.

Mainstream > Romance > Mystery > Science Fiction > Fantasy > Horror

I’ve already explained why a science-fiction story with romantic elements in it would not be considered part of the Romance genre. But what makes a Romance story different from a Mainstream story? Why isn’t every Mainstream story with a romance in it considered part of the Romance genre?

To answer that question, believe it or not, I turn to the writer’s guidelines for Analog magazine. You may not think there’s a connection between hard science fiction stories and romance stories, but in my opinion, there is.

For many years, the Analog guidelines have tried to define the type of science-fiction story they’re looking for with the following piece of advice:

“Basically, we publish science fiction stories. That is, stories in which some aspect of future science or technology is so integral to the plot that, if that aspect were removed, the story would collapse. Try to picture Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein without the science and you’ll see what I mean. No story!”

To me, that can also describe the difference between a Romance story and a Mainstream story. From my point of view a story would only fall into the Romance category if the romance is so integral to the plot that to remove it would cause the story to collapse.

Which, in conclusion, explains why I haven’t applied to join the Romance Writers of America, despite my having joined SFWA, HWA, and MWA. Although many of my stories have romances in them, I don’t think of those romances as being as integral to the plot as they might be. Until I get around to writing that Romance novel, I’ll just have to satisfy myself with the other three genres.

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Michael A. Burstein won the 1997 Campbell Award. His short fiction, mostly in Analog, has been nominated for ten Hugos and four Nebulas. He and wife Nomi live in Brookline, Massachusetts, where he is a Library Trustee and Town Meeting Member. He has two physics degrees, and attended Clarion. See www.mabfan.com.

In November, 2008, Apex Publications released Michael’s first collection of stories titled I Rememeber the Future: The Award-Nominated Stories of Michael A. Burstein.

The votes have been tallied. We have a winner.

Prepare the drum roll, please.

The winner, as voted by our fans is…

“A Splash of Color” by William T. Vandemark

It’s a great choice. “A Splash of Color” beautifully mixes art with technology and (as the title would suggest) his prose is vivid and will leave some haunting imagery in your mind.

Last Friday was a nice day in the Apex Publications offices. Michael A. Burstein’s short story “I Remember the Future” (from Burstein’s collection of the same name) earned a Nebula Award nomination. Gene O’Neill’s collection Taste of Tenderloin earned a Stoker Award nomination.

To celebrate the recognition these fine works have received, we’re selling Gene and Michael’s collections at a sizable discount. Until the end of March, you can get Taste of Tenderloin for only $10.95 and I Remember the Future for $16.95. Get them both with free shipping, and you’ll save nearly $12.00!

We’re giving away another great Night Shade Books anthology today–The Improbable Adventures of Sherlock Holmes edited by John Joseph Adams.

Here are some of the best Holmes pastiches of the last 30 years, twenty-eight tales of mystery and the imagination detailing Holmes’s further exploits, as told by many of today’s greatest storytellers, including Stephen King, Anne Perry, Anthony Burgess, Neil Gaiman, Naomi Novik, Stephen Baxter, Tanith Lee, Michael Moorcock, and many more.

To be entered to win, all you need to do is leave a comment telling me your favorite mystery novel/story. Next Saturday, I’ll randomly choose a winner and make the announcement via a comment on this post.

Good luck!

Want to be amused this weekend? Try these:

1) Books and Cupcakes and Shit.

2) Wheatland Press runs a nice anthology series called Polyphony. They’re up to volume seven. They need 225 pre-orders before March 1st, or the series will die. You can read more about their drive right here. I’ve placed my pre-order, so why not you?

3) I’m not a good cook, but I am a bit of a foodie. So are these folks, but in a terrible way. The people at this link found twenty stomach-churning recipes and…uh, made them. The worst offenders to my stomach? The jellied chicken and the hot dog salad.

4) Paul Abbababamondi (or however you spell his name) with some funny snark about the recent spate of tacky Baen book covers.

5) Jay Lake defines the vast categories of different genres in a rather simply chart. Jay Lake, he’s a smart one.

It’s turning out to be quite the day around the Apex offices. We have just found out that Gene O’Neill’s Taste of Tenderloin has earned a Stoker Award nomination in the category of Superior Achievement in a Collection.

Well done, Gene!

Two Nebula nominations and a Stoker nomination…wonder what tomorrow will bring for Apex???