If you’re not yet familiar with SciFi Strange, allow the words of Jason Sanford, who generated the name for this specific subgenre, explain exactly what SciFi Strange is all about.

HK McMakin: From what I’ve learned online regarding the new subgenre, SciFi Strange, it seems as though you are the founder behind classifying this subgenre. Is that correct?

Jason Sanford: I definitely coined the term SciFi Strange, but I’m can’t claim to be the founder of this subgenre. When I first wrote about SciFi Strange, I was reacting to the types of science fiction I enjoyed both reading and writing. It was much more a noticing than a creating, because a number of authors–including myself–were already writing this type of fiction.

HKM: How did you arrive at the idea to name this new subgenre?  What thoughts led to this?

JS: A few years ago one of my stories, ”The Ships Like Clouds, Risen by Their Rain,” was reprinted in David Hartwell and Kathryn Cramer’s Year’s Best SF 14. In their introduction to my story, they wrote, “If there is such a thing as new weird SF, this is it.” That comment set me to thinking. Why do I write stories like this? Why do I love certain science fiction stories and can’t stand others? After thinking for a while about this new weird SF, I realized the phrase described the authors and stories I loved. But since new weird SF sounded like a rip-off of the New Weird, I thought, why not call this type of fiction SciFi Strange.

HKM: How exactly would you describe SciFi Strange?

JS: I’ve defined SciFi Strange as genre stories with high literary qualities, a strong sense of wonder, and an exploration of the boundaries of reality and experience. These are science fiction stories, which flirt with the boundaries of what is scientifically–and therefore realistically–possible, without being bounded by the rigid frames of the world as we know it today. In some ways the stories feel a bit like fantasy, but they aren’t. Instead, they’re pure science fiction, an updated version of the literature of ideas. A science fiction for a world where the frontiers of scientific possibility are almost philosophical in nature.

HKM: You’ve said that SciFi Strange should never be called fantasy. Some readers may have a hard time drawing the distinction between science fiction and fantasy or may tend to group the two genres together. How would you classify the separation of science fiction and fantasy?

JS: There are so many differing definitions for science fiction and fantasy that I sometimes wonder if these genres have nothing better to do than to continually create dividing lines between each other. I mean, definitions of science fiction which have resonated with me in the past range from “realistic speculation about possible future events,” “the literature of ideas,” and on and on. I’ve also agreed at various times with those who call fantasy the literature of dreams, the literature of the soul, and the literature of longing. But the more I think about it, the more I realize those definitions are all rather limiting.

One definition I’ve really liked is from longtime genre fan Nancy Lebovitz, who said “Science fiction: the unknown is to be understood and thereby changed. Fantasy: the unknown is to be loved for its strangeness.” But the definition which now pleases me the most, and seems to get the closest to the truth, is from a non-genre poet and critic named Dan Schneider, who said “Science fiction is the possible unrealized, whereas fantasy is the impossible realized.” Hard to argue with that.

As for the differences between the genres, they are both overstated and not stated enough. We should never forget that all divisions in literature are to some extent mere marketing tools, enabling readers to find the stories they enjoy. But these tools arose because the divisions also resonated with people. So while on a pure level I want to say that there are only two genres in all of literature–good stories and bad–I also know that it is human nature to classify and divide the world. And so it is with these genres. But the great thing about science fiction and fantasy is that, while they are their own entities, they are also bound in a long-term literary dance with each other. Science fiction and fantasy are the yin and yang of the speculative fiction world and I don’t see them breaking apart anytime soon.

 HKM: What can a reader new to the subgenre, SciFi Strange expect?

JS: Weirdness. A sense of wonder. A new way of looking at life. An attempt to sort out where humanity is going while also not ignoring where we are today.

HKM: What are some typical characteristics of SciFi Strange fans?  What sort of characteristics will these fans be attracted to in SciFi Strange books?

JS: I think fans of SciFi Strange are open to new types of fiction, to fictional experimentation, and to the changes our entire world is undergoing. While you’d expect science fiction fans in general to be open to these things, in truth many are not. Many fans subscribe to a type of science fiction, which was first written in the middle of the 20th century and hasn’t changed much even as the world has changed dramatically. But fans who are receptive to SciFi Strange see that the world today isn’t the world of 50 years ago and they not only love that, they embrace it.

HKM: As a reader yourself, would you prefer reading SciFi Strange to science fiction in general or any other subgenres of science fiction?

JS: Don’t get me wrong–I love most types of science fiction, if it is done well. I can read and appreciate hard SF story and military SF and social SF and everything in between. But the stories, which really excite me, tend to be SciFi Strange.

HKM: What is your favorite science fiction (any subgenre included) book of all time?

JS: What is that old saying, that the golden age of science fiction is when you’re 12? For me, the book I read during my own personal golden age, which still resonates in my memory, is Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. I still reread the novel every few years. In hindsight, I now realize the novel also has some SciFi Strange elements, which is ironic, since Clarke is mainly known as a hard SF author. Among these elements are the creation of the Starchild and how humanity embraces the greater, almost impossible to understand universe.

When I read 2001 these days, I see the limitations of Clarke’s writing. His prose is not overly complex or lyrical, and his characterization not that deep. But this novel still excited my young self and remains my favorite.

HKM: Can you please recommend some good SciFi Strange books for our Apex readers?

JS: New authors I’d include in the SciFi Strange subgenre include Paolo Bacigalupi, Aliette de Bodard, Ted Chiang, Eugie Foster, Yoon Ha Lee, Ian McDonald, Nnedi Okorafor, Hannu Rajaniemi, Gareth L. Powell, Rachel Swirsky, Lavie Tidhar and Caroline M. Yoachim, among many others. Some of these authors are well established. Others barely known. Some exclusively write these types of stories. Others create these stories only on occasion.

Much of what I’m calling SciFi Strange is being written at the short story level, which is more open to experimentation than novel-length fiction. But there’s also new novel-length fiction, which has a SciFi Strange sensibility, such as Paolo Bacigalupi’s award-winning The Windup Girl and Hannu Rajaniemi’s The Quantum Thief.

There are also earlier novels and authors, which feel very much like SciFi Strange. For example, the setting of Gene Wolfe’s classic Book of the New Sun series is so far in the future that the science behind everything is almost philosophical in nature, which is a hallmark of SciFi Strange. His novels are also highly experimental and beautifully written. Another book I recently read which feels very SciFi Strange in its outlook is Michael Coney’s The Celestial Steam Locomotive, from 1983.

HKM: How were you inspired for the ideas for your SciFi Strange stories?

JS: My inspiration comes from a deep-seated need to understand the world and humanity. Stories are how humans process our world–we see the world in stories and understand the world in stories. I’m merely trying to take this understanding wherever my need to tell a story wants to go.

To learn more about science fiction author, Jason Sanford and his books or to learn more about SciFi Strange, please visit his website.

Please don’t ask us the lengths we had to go through to get this copy. Mr. Girard can be quite cruel (and generous).

For a chance to win this rare ARC, just buy anything on the Apex website between now and next Friday, May 31st — from the new collection Plow the Bones by Douglas F. Warrick to a subscription to Apex Magazine — any purchase now matter how big or small qualifies you for the drawing. Get an early look at the Cain books and find out what little boys are really made of.

Order something from Apex to be entered in the drawing. Your order has to be from the Apex online store. Each item order counts as one entry. All orders will be entered into the drawing until next Friday @ 9:00am EST. The winner will be announced Friday morning soon after.

This link takes you to the Apex online store.

Most Apex readers will be familiar with Geoffrey’s work via our anthologies. He has appeared in Dark Faith, Gratia Placenti, and Harlan County Horrors.

Cain’s Blood synopsis:
A terrifying debut novel about the evil in each of us: when clones of infamous serial killers escape from a secret government facility, it’s up to a former Army Ranger to stop them…with the help of a teenage killer clone.

Trying to develop a new breed of bio-weapons, the US Department of Defense has secretly cloned the world’s most notorious murderers, hoping to study their DNA and isolate a genetic predictor for evil. Now in Stage Three, the program contains dozens of young men who have no clue of their evil heritage—including Albert Fish, Ted Bundy, and David Berkowitz. Enacting a twisted game of nature vs. nurture, the scientists raise some of the clones with loving families and others in abusive circumstances. But everything changes when the most dangerous boys are set free by their creator—escaping with three canisters of a mysterious chemical weapon that could destroy an entire city.A man with demons of his own, former black ops soldier Shawn Castillo is hot on their trail. But Shawn didn’t count on the quiet young boy he finds hiding in an abandoned house—a boy who has just learned he is the clone of Jeffrey Dahmer. As Jeffrey and Castillo race across the country as unlikely allies on the trail of the rampaging teens’ increasing violence, Castillo must protect the boy who is the embodiment of his biggest fears—and who may also be his last hope.More than just a serial killer novel, Cain’s Blood melds completely plausible science with terrifying horror, preying on our darkest fears of manipulation, secrecy, and murder.

Project Cain synopsis:
A thrilling YA companion to S&S Touchstone’s Cain’s Blood, releasing simultaneously.

Fifteen-year-old Jeff Jacobson had never heard of Jeffrey Dahmer, the infamous serial killer who brutally murdered seventeen people more than twenty years ago.

But Jeff’s life changes forever when the man he’d thought was his father hands him a government file telling him he was constructed in a laboratory only seven years ago, part of a top-secret government cloning experiment called ‘Project CAIN.’ There, he was created entirely from Jeffrey Dahmer’s DNA. There are others like Jeff — those genetically engineered directly from the most notorious murderers of all time: The Son of Sam, The Boston Strangler, Ted Bundy… even other Jeffrey Dahmer clones. Some raised, like Jeff, in caring family environments; others within homes that mimicked the horrific early lives of the men they were created from.

When the most dangerous boys are set free by the geneticist who created them, the summer of killing begins. Worse, these same teens now hold a secret weapon even more dangerous than the terrible evil they carry within. Only Jeff can help track the clones down before it’s too late.

But will he catch the ‘monsters’ before becoming one himself?

About Geoffrey Girard:
Geoffrey Girard is an award-winning author writing thrillers, historicals, dark fantasy, young adult novels, and short speculative fiction for publications including WRITERS OF THE FUTURE and the recent Stoker-nominated DARK FAITH anthology. Born in Germany and shaped in New Jersey, Geoffrey graduated from Washington College with a literature degree and worked as an advertising copywriter and marketing manager before shifting to high school English teacher. Since, he’s earned an MA in Creative Writing from Miami University and is the Department Chair of English at a private boys’ school in Cincinnati.

Simon and Schuster will publish two Girard novels in Fall, 2013: CAIN’S BLOOD, a techno thriller, and PROJECT CAIN, a spinoff novel for Young-Adult readers. For more information, visit www.GeoffreyGirard.com.

Photo credit, Wiki Media Commons

But what exactly makes Lovecraft so weird?
Lovecraft gets there by way of language. In Brian Kim Stefans’s Salon.com article, “HP Lovecraft, pulp philosopher,” he reviews and deconstructs Graham Harman’s book, Weird Realism: Lovecraft and Philosophy. Something both the article and the book focus on is Lovecraft’s application of language.

This comes in two forms. The first is the inability of the narrator to describe the thing he beholds. (And I can firmly say “he” here, for Lovecraft has nary a female narrator!) This lack of articulate language is often seen as a serious flaw in Lovecraft’s work, covering up his unimaginativeness. But in Harman’s book, he talks about two philosophical approaches: one which fills in the gaps of knowledge and one which creates them. To create these gaps allows for places in between knowledge and logic where imagination can slip in. When the narrator fails at describing anything but the most basic elements of a situation, the reader’s imagination fills in the rest. By intentionally and carefully creating these gaps, Lovecraft ignites the creativity in the reader to form the visual content him- or herself. And what the reader comes up with is usually a hell of a lot freakier than anything the author could have come up with.

One of my favorite stories about this phenomenon comes from Neil Gaiman. There’s a sex scene in Stardust. He gets comments and complaints all the time about how graphic it is. In fact, if you Google “Neil Gaiman sex scene,” you’ll come across a plethora of reviews and blogs warning potential readers (and especially parents of potential readers) about this “graphic” and “explicit” scene early in the book. And to those people he says, read it again. From TheBookCoop’s review, “It has a rather boring sex scene at the beginning, nipples and breasts are mentioned, a man urinating and the word ‘fuck’ appears in small print.” (http://thebookcoop.blogspot.com/2010/06/stardust-neil-gaiman.html) And that’s about it. A tremendous amount of “explicit” and “graphic” tempest in a really rather a dull pot of tea. Gaiman created large gaps in his descriptions of that scene and the audience, they did what audiences do best, they jumped to the most dramatic conclusion possible and inserted a “graphic” scene where there was none.

Lovecraft does this for just about everything. Cthulu, freakish elder god and stuff of nightmares is described simply thus: “If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing […] but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful.” (excerpt from “HP Lovecraft, pulp philosopher”)

“The Devourer Nebula” AKA “The Cthulu Nebula Eats the Hubble” by Melissa Gay
http://www.melissagay.com/

It’s vague and, out of context, pretty boring. And there are some pretty significant gaps in there. Octopus, dragon, person. With a weird silhouette. When embedded into the meat of the whole story, actually describing this indescribable horror would be nothing more than a let-down. The reader has already begun to formulate an image of this creature from the start of the story, from the hints and nudges. And then at the moment of the big reveal, a lesser author might have ruined the whole thing by presenting a vividly described creature that diverges wildly from what was imagined. So while Lovecraft’s vagueness is usually seen as a flaw, it is really one of his more impressive merits.

The second method Lovecraft employs is that one the narrator who says that he cannot explain what he sees but then whips out with a detailed visual account with all sorts of descriptive qualifiers to really cement the image. In “The Dunwich Horror,” the narrator initially says that what he sees defies description, but then goes on at great length and detail:
“It would be trite and not wholly accurate to say that no human pen could describe it, but one may properly say that it could not be vividly visualized by anyone whose ideas of aspect and contour are too closely bound up with the common life-forms of this planet and the known three dimensions. It was partly human, beyond a doubt, with very manlike hands and head, and the goatish, chinless face had the stamp of the Whateleys upon it. But the torso and lower parts of the body were teratologically fabulous […] Above the waist it was semi-anthropomorphic; though its chest […] had the leathery, reticulated hide of a crocodile or alligator. The back was piebald with yellow and black, and dimly suggested the squamous covering of certain snakes. Below the waist, though, it was the worse; for here all human resemblance left off and sheer phantasy began. The skin was thickly covered with coarse black fur, and from the abdomen a score of long greenish-grey tentacles with red sucking mouths protruded limply.” (excerpt from “HP Lovecraft, pulp philosopher”)

In the case of “The Dunwich Horror,” this narrator has encountered this creature without much preamble, whereas in “The Call of Cthulu,” the set-up for what Cthulu looks like had been hinted at for pages and pages. So, Lovecraft does know how to describe the strange and monstrous, but he just likes to control how and when. Another thing in this description is how he constantly connects the strange and monstrous with the ordinary and known. Hide like a crocodile, face like a goat, spotted like a snake. We’re all well aware of crocodiles, goats, and snakes and their general appearance. But to imagine these three comfortable well-known creatures blended…and also furry and with tentacles…that’s when things get weird.

Goat, photo by ArminKübelbeck

So Lovecraft has these two major things going for him when making the mundane seem really freaky. First, he gives us enough rope to hang ourselves (and what good Game Master doesn’t know all about that?). Second, when things do get weird, he consistently grounds that weird into the everyday world using analogies that are easily understood by just about every reader of every social class and education level. If he went too far afield and used an elevated, more fantastical language to describe these terrors, the reader could too easily disengage and tune out and what fun would that be?

This is the “speculative” in the realism, the “weird” in the fiction. Not just what is being described (Obtuse angles that are really acute! Unexplained formations in the ceiling of an old house! Scratchings in the walls!) but how. By creating gaps into which we readers fall, screaming. For more.

Bibliography and Suggested Reading:

Harman, Graham. Weird Realism: Lovecraft and Philosophy. Zero Books, 2012.

Stefans, Brian Kim. HP Lovecraft, pulp philosopher. 11 April 2013. 22 May 2013. <http://www.salon.com/2013/04/11/weird_science_on_the_wacky_world_of_hp_lovecraft_partner/>.

From Fantasy and SF Author Sara M. Harvey

Secrets and illusions abound in a decaying convent wrapped in dark magic and scented with blood. Portia came to the convent with the ghost of Imogen, the lover she failed to protect in life. Now, the spell casting caste wants to make sure that neither she nor her spirit ever leave.

Portia’s ignorance of her own power may be even more deadly than those who conspire against her as she fights to fulfill her sworn duty to protect humankind in a battle against dark illusions and painful realities.

Steeped in the legends of the Nephilim, The Convent of the Pure is the first installment of a steampunk trilogy by Sara M. Harvey.

Order The Convent of the Pure by Sara M. Harvey

Sara M. Harvey made her fiction debut in 2006 with the romantic urban fantasy A Year and a Day. Sara’s love of steampunk pushed her towards writing within that genre with her steampunk trilogy from Apex Publishing: The Convent of the Pure, The Labyrinth of the Dead, and The Tower of the Forgotten. They can be described as paranormal Victorian Age romances with lesbian protagonists set in a steampunk environment. Harvey’s showcase of her unique style of genre-crossing work has been described by Jacqueline Carey as ‘a compelling blend of the numinous and the creepy’. Visit her on the web at www.saramharvey.com.

And yet, there is one sort of weird fiction that does fascinate me, and that I enjoy reading and watching. For lack of a better name, I’d call it “meta fiction,” or fiction in which at least some of the characters of a story come to realize that they are in fact part of a story.

I think my first experience with this concept came with the Illuminatus trilogy by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson. I read it as a teenager, and I recall very little about the books save for one part near the climax. If I recall correctly, the characters are being threatened by a giant sea monster, and one of them has the sudden realization that the lives they have been living only make sense if they are but fictional characters in a book, rather than real people. The idea that a person in a story would suddenly realize that he or she is living out a story intrigued me.

Grant Morrison explored the same narrative question in his run on the Animal Man comic book in the 1980s. Buddy Baker, the real name of the superhero Animal Man, lives a very weird life. In one issue, while under the influence of peyote, the titular superhero looks directly out of the page at the reader and exclaims, “I can see you!” Later on, Baker discovers that there is a conspiracy behind everything happening to him, something manipulating him from off-page. Things come to a head in Morrison’s final issue, when Baker confronts the writer himself in Morrison’s home.

Another 1980s meta fiction I enjoyed was The Purple Rose of Cairo, in which a movie character becomes so enamored of an audience member that he manages to walk out of the movie to meet her. More recently, I think of movies such as Stranger Than Fiction and Ruby Sparks, in which writers interact with the characters they’ve created. And at the risk of spoiling the novel for readers (although at this point I would say that the statute of limitations on spoilers has passed), John Scalzi’s Redshirts is all about a spaceship crew that discovers that their adventures are being written by a TV writer in the year 2012.

Why do these sorts of stories fascinate me? Why should they fascinate anyone? I think it’s because we use fiction as a mirror to reality, and there is something comforting in the idea that there might be a writer behind what we do.

As we live our own lives, we try to write our own stories. But no one is a complete master of their fate. Life is always more random and capricious than fiction is; it has to be, as fiction has to make sense. A story in which the main character discovers that he or she is fictional may seem unsettling on one level, but on another level it provides a sort of comfort. Because it means that the main character has come to discover that he or she really is the most important person in the universe.

Imagine a young child, a boy, who feels adrift in his life and family. He concocts a fantasy for himself, that one day, a man will arrive at his family’s door and announce himself as the writer of the boy’s life. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter how adrift the boy feels. An author somewhere out there is crafting or recording the details of the boy’s life, and that gives the boy a sense of meaning.

The weirdness of meta fiction either reminds us of our ability to write some of our own stories, or presents us with the illusion that we can. And for that, it has its appeal.

(Say, is that a tap on our shoulder?)

I Remember the Future by Michael A. Burstein

I Remember the Future collects Michael A. Burstein’s Hugo- and Nebula- nominated science fiction short stories and novelettes. Introduction by Stanley Schmidt.

The award-nominated stories in this collection will bring memories of the future flooding back. Two new stories and all-new afterwords enliven the past with a touch of the present and that which is yet to come. You don’t need a collection of antique spaceships or a carefully calibrated time machine to share the memories of the final Holocaust survivor. You don’t have to jump through the gate between universes in search of a lost friend. All you have to do is open your eyes. You’ll remember the future. The future remembers you.

Order I Remember the Future by Michael A. Burstein.

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. His first collection (I Remember the Future: The Award-Nominated Stories of Michael A. Burstein) was released in late 2008 by Apex Publications. For more information about the author visit www.mabfan.com.

The Early 50 program provides an opportunity for our readers to get signed, numbered editions of our titles along with the eBook edition for FREE so that you can read the book before the book is available. Only 50 copies are available for pre-order. Our Newsletter members get the first opportunity at the 50, followed a week later by the general public.

These copies of DESPER HOLLOW come signed by the author Elizabeth Massie. As a bonus, cover artist Corney Skinner has signed and included a unique ink drawing of a zombie scene from the book!

SYNOPSIS:
It begins when hardheaded mountain matriarch Granny Mustard decides she wants to live forever. Then she dies. Her slow-witted but equally hardheaded granddaughter Jenkie decides to pick up the ball and run with it, taking Granny’s unperfected immortality moonshine recipe, a socially-inept friend named Bink, and dreams of fame and fortune to an abandoned, isolated trailer up in Desper Hollow.

But slow-witted doesn’t stand against the terrible mountain power Granny initiated. Jenkie’s experiments with the immortality moonshine only worsen the trouble with Granny’s original recipe, bringing dead critters and a few stray folks back to a state of hungry, vicious, mindless animation. Now a stash of the living dead is locked up in the back of the trailer, a howling herd that has Jenkie terrified. And Armistead, one of the red-eyed living dead, seems way too alert for comfort.

Mountain resident Kathy Shaw and Hollywood reality show pitchman Jack Carroll find themselves caught up in the growing terror surrounding Desper Hollow. They can’t avoid it and must face it head on. So must Armistead, who fights the fog of his ghastly condition to discover the truth of who he really is.

ReCreate
438 E. 5th St.
Dayton, OH 45402

May 22nd, 2013
Start time: 7:00 PM

Lineup:
Animal Lover (from Minneapolis)
Dog Fight (from Dayton)
A short fiction reading by Douglas F. Warrick

That’s right… there will be rock & roll THEN a reading (and signing) by Doug. This speaks volumes about his abilities as a public speaker.

I didn’t find a formal website, but I did find their Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Recreate-Shop/217742528239473

Weird ranges from the unsettling to the unknowable. From the disturbed to the destroyer of worlds. Weird is an antidote to the mundane. Fiction asks “what if” and offers possibilities. Weird threatens “what if” and shows things larger or more occult than our feeble minds can process.

The enjoyment in weird stories like the aforementioned Dan Simmon’s Hyperion is in the idea that we’re not alone in the universe, and we may not be half as clever as we’ve let ourselves believe. The character of the Shrike represents this strange, faceless and unknowable power (at least in the first of the Hyperion Cantos, later books don’t stick to this theme). The Shrike is a horror, covered in metal, a master of time who hangs its living victims on the cruel thorns on a living metal tree.  To be unfortunate enough to meet the Shrike is certain death. And yet the mystery of this character has inspired people to seek it out, has even inspired cults who worship it like a god. It may sound strange but I believe that’s the appeal of these stories, both in the reassurance that we’re not alone and that it might not be a good thing. It unseats us from our imagined place of power.

In Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining, we’re introduced to a world of ghosts. The oft-used trope of a place having a memory is enhanced by giving it a personality as well. These aren’t merely ghosts you’re dealing with but expressions of a barely gleaned intelligence. Does Jack, the winter caretaker, help them spring to life? Or is he personally manifesting them? When I watched this as a 5-year-old (yes, really), it only confirmed that the world was a place of power and imagination. It lead to a lifelong fascination with brilliantly spun horror that was powered not by simple gore but by the fear of the forever-unknowable thing lurking.

Space and time are mutable things in the weird, something that we felt we could depend on becomes unreliable, frightening and open to interpretation. In the realm of experimental fiction, Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves, stands as a monument to the weird. In essence, a labyrinth tale, complete with an unseen minotaur that follows one of the main characters out into the world from a story within a story. It begins with this character, Johnny, finding an academic study of a nonexistent documentary film. The film documents the odd appearance of new rooms and passageways within a house. Eventually this leads characters to madness and murder. But most importantly, Johnny is driven mad himself by the story, one that he suspects never even happened. When a story is executed this way it can leave the reader feeling like their head is spinning and beginning to question their own reality.

That is the magnificence of the weird. It follows you from outside of time, stalks you from the shadows, claws at your nerves and then appears to never have been there from the start. There’s something else out there and the fun is in never fully knowing what it is.

Nathan Hall is a writer living in South Florida. He’s busily pruning adjectives from his first novel while planning a second. He also enjoys home made bbq and gaming. You can follow him at his website: http://nathanmhall.com or on twitter @nmhall.

Buy Now! Two books. 5 dollars.

ESCAPE FROM ZOMBIE CITY (An Apex Bestseller!):
You are one of the last survivors in a city overrun by the walking dead. The news reports say it’s the result of a government experiment gone wrong, and advise citizens to remain indoors to wait for aid. But you’re not getting any safer, and you’d be wise to get out of town while you can.

The zombies aren’t your only concern, however.

Thieves, cults, roadblocks, gun-nut survivors, and military defenses are just some of what you’ll have to deal with as you make your escape. It’s the one little thing you don’t expect, one wrong turn, one bad decision that will get you killed.

It’s going to take more than guts and a gun to get you out alive. Use your knowledge of the event, your instincts, and every ounce of your luck.

Maybe it will be enough.

Maybe you’ll find the one way out.

ESCAPE FROM ZOMBIE ISLAND:
While vacationing at an island resort, you watch as a small airplane crashes on the beach then bursts into flames. Trapped inside, the pilot tosses a metal canister leaking a black gas free of the plane. Those who breathe in the gas undergo a strange and terrifying transformation. A short while later, they die. Unfortunately, they don’t stay dead.

As night falls and a storm rolls in off the ocean, the living dead spread across the island like a plague. Before long nowhere is safe, including the hotel where you’ve been staying. All that matters now is finding a way off the island before you fall prey to the hungry dead. Or become one of them yourself.

Whether or not you live through the night depends solely on the choices you make. One bad decision could get you killed. With any luck, you just might find the One Way Out and…

Escape from Zombie Island.

I constantly look at other artists’ work, in fact I make it a part of my day to at least check out art or illustration boards on the web. There’s something I’ve noticed, and I’m not sure if it’s a trend or if it’s something that’s always been there.

Some of these creations are just plain weird. But not necessarily in a good way.

Just plain weird.

I don’t like to kick out names of artists that I may not like, or pieces that I don’t think work. My glass house is pretty big, and it wouldn’t take more than a few pebbles to knock it over. In the last few years, though, I’ve seen an odd trend towards making creations weird just to make them weird.

For example, I saw an image recently of an old west shoot ‘em up. The gunfighter was up against some ghostly gunfighters, which I thought was pretty cool. However, the artist felt they needed a robotic tentacle or two wrapping around a porch in the background.

It took me out of the moment, simply because it was too much. The ghostly gunfighters idea was great, and it worked quite nicely in the scene. The robotic tentacles, however, are such a radically different idea that it kills the moment. Sure, it’s “strange” or “weird”, but it doesn’t fit.

There was no indications of anything mechanical with the ghosts. No steampunk landscape or buildings, no metal anywhere else, really. There was no other link at all to anything that the robotic tentacles would gel with.

It’s not a matter of the tentacles even being weird, they just seem to be tossed in.

I’m all for experimenting with art, not only in techniques but in ideas as well. The strange and unusual things that I see practically run my world, I’m fascinated by them. Some of my favorite art pieces have very strange elements to them, and that goes for film and books as well.

Just tossed in.

But I see a lot of “posing” of the strange, many works that offer up the strange simply because that’s what they believe the trend is. The creators don’t buy into it, they don’t even really appreciate why it’s weird. They just see a trend towards the strange, and they start throwing in every oddball element they can think of. Some think that’s enough to be glorified as a creator of the weird.

That’s where it goes off the rails. Working with the weird elements involves an understanding of what makes things weird. It’s not just something that’s out of place, or things that are so different from one another. It’s not tossing a hodgepodge of different elements out of the pot, then picking them out at random.

“Look at me with my spider leg coming out of the businessman’s suit, and a doll on the top of the lightpole. Then he’s just on a normal street. I’m weird and awesome!”

No, you’re sad and pretentious. Unless you can explain why.

Can you explain why?

That’s the trick, really. Not that you have to explain anything, the best creations don’t need to beat you with a stick so that you understand things. The effective weird and strange creations work because it’s not about the one element out of place. They work because the creators fully understand the real world, and the twist on those normal elements that make things weird.

Maybe the doll could have been held up in a spiderweb. Maybe there’s a subtle piece of web blowing in the wind. Anything at all that could rewrite the rules of this new, painted world.

It’s not that something is just out of place, though that certainly is part of it. It’s more that the artist should be able to create a world where that thing is in the right place in this new world. The strong pieces are those that make you want to know why it’s out of place, to make the viewer (or reader) want to figure out the mystery inherent in the weird.

It’s the technique that sets the truly excellent, strange pieces apart. With the right techniques, artists (and authors, filmmakers, and so on) can create a world where the normal is twisted into the weird. Worlds that fascinate, but not just a quick odd thing to fit in.

I point towards the art of Jeremy Geddes or the stories of H.P. Lovecraft as great examples of adding the strange to art, and making it work. Geddes often paints the strangest of situations, like the man with the lightbulb in the link above. Yet, it works well because of the way Geddes frames the work, the way the situation is created in the painting. It’s his world, and it works the way it should.

Lovecraft, the master of the strange, wrote stories where any manner of unusual creatures held sway. Tentacled beasts, creatures made of little more than bubbles, even regular animals turned into monstrosities. But the way that Lovecraft wrote his stories creates a unique world, and the techniques he uses means that these strange creatures are normal in his world.

It’s not just about an oddity, the best creators of the strange understand that the unusual features of their worlds make them unique. They use their capabilities to make even the strangest things seem appropriate for the moment, without throwing things in simply for effect. The unusual ideas serve the story, or the image, exactly as they should.

The unusual works with a bit more thought, a bit more technique, and an understanding of where to twist the normal.

It’s not that there’s a spider’s leg coming out of the businessman’s suit. It’s what that spider had for breakfast, and what the doll is telling it to have for lunch.

But I’m not here to gush. I am here to talk about Apex and how we (specifically, I) go about acquiring new books, even when we’re closed to submissions. It is a subject that I suspect will be of interest to many of the followers of this blog (as I suspect many of our followers are writers).

In the course of a week, I receive about 15 book pitches in my inbox. These arrive despite our submissions page stating outright that we aren’t accepting any books for consideration. That’s fine, as I’m mostly indifferent about receiving them. For most, I’ll send a polite “No thank you.” In the rare instance that a cover letter or pitch sparks my interest, I might read a few pages of the manuscript and dole out a comment or two. I don’t think I’ve ever asked for a full manuscript, and I’ve never bought a book from an unsolicited submission.

There are two ways through the door, even when it is shut.

First, attend pitch-the-publisher sessions at conferences/conventions that I’m participating in.

The second way is to impress me in some way or manner.

This can be done actively or passively. Here are a couple of passive examples. There have been several occasions where I have been so impressed with an author’s short fiction output that I’ve asked them for a collection (Doug Warrick and Jennifer Pelland come to mind). In the past, I’ve been impressed enough with a person as an individual that I wanted to work with them (Wrath James White and Maurice Broaddus… it helped that I knew they had the writing chops). Fran Friel’s novella “Mama’s Boy” knocked me off my feet, and I decided I wanted to do a book with her (she also falls into the “awesome individual” category, as well). These writers were able to fine tune their craft or they learned to market themselves that they passively pulled me into their spheres. This is one great thing about running a small press–you can take chances on exceptional talent even if they might not be so well known (though all these authors are now well-known in genre circles… perhaps Doug is the exception, but I am working hard to correct that).

Being pro-active is another way to squeeze through the door. I don’t count drafting up a query and blindly submitting it to me as being pro-active. Pro-active means talking to me at conventions (I might look aloof and grumpy, but I’m mostly nice). Work to build a professional relationship. We don’t have to be friends, but you can be that guy or lady who is always nice to me at room parties and asks me how Apex is doing each time we talk. If you impress me in our conversation, either by intellect or by charm, and then you proceed to inquire about my interest in seeing your partial or query, I will be more likely to say “Yes,” and I will give your submission all the due consideration I would give a submission received during an Apex open reading period (few and far between those may be).

Chris Bucholz, personally, didn’t sell me on Severance. His agent, Jennie Goloboy did that pro-actively, with a passive assist from Chris.

In general, I’m agent adverse. The aggressive nature so many agents exhibit turns me cold and disinterested. So at Worldcon when Jennie introduced herself to me and shared that she was an agent, I am sure she could sense that I withdrew my little social shell. But Jennie knew enough about me to put me at ease (she mentioned the Hugo Award nomination and she asked me about my pumpkin spice latte obsession… she follows me on Twitter). She offered to buy me coffee and off we went to chat. I *knew* the book pitch was coming, but Jennie knew how to mix business with an obvious interest in formulating a friendship. She seemed like a nice lady, and because of that, the door cracked open just a tiny bit.

The first book she pitched, I had to pass on. Good book. Not right for Apex.

The second book was Severance. She told me it was SF humor. Alarm bells started to ring. Then she said it was written by Chris Bucholz. Alarm bells went silent. I knew Chris. Well, not personally, but I knew he wrote hilarious essays at Cracked.com. I had been enjoying his writing for several years! She offered to send a partial and I said “Yes, please.”

Active: Jennie attending Worldcon and making a point to meet me. She doesn’t come across as pushy. She is professional and friendly.

Passive: Chris being an excellent online humorist.

It’s taken awhile (nearly 8 months… sorry Chris & Jennie!… one of the caveats of pitching work to somebody not looking for new work are the long delays), but I finally got a chance to read the book. I decided I wanted to take a chance with it. Jennie and I hashed out an agreement, and now Chris Bucholz is an Apex author.

This has been a long-winded outline of a simple concept that will work with many of my small press brother and sisters. Impress us with your work. Impress us with your professionalism. Make an effort to get face time with the publishers. Even when the door is shut, you might be able to wedge it open just enough to slip inside.