The Patriotic Zombie

by Kristen Saunders

Super Bowl Sunday is about as American as you can get. As I sit watching the commercials and writing this story (a few weeks before you’ll see it) I am reminded of other pieces of culture that are truly American, Harleys, muscle cars, country music, boy scouts, apple pie, and zombies. That’s right zombies.

America has been obsessed with these brain dead, flesh eating, unsexy hobblers for a long time. The fascination began when an American named William Seabrook wrote a wildly popular book in 1929 called The Magic Island. His story talked about Haitian voodoo witch doctors raising the dead to do some back breaking labor, a far cry from today’s popularized flesh eaters. Never-the-less within the U. S. these rotting undead were popular and continue to this day to gain a devoted following.

Zombies are now a part of mainstream. I have seen my friends doing zombie makeup as a hobby outside of the haunted month of October. Zombie crawls, or large flash mobs of costume zombies, have become popular in recent years. The larges zombie crawl on record happened on the thirteenth of October in the Twin Cities. The Guinness Book of World Records has the count at 8,027 people gathering together, but it is believed there were almost 30,000 participants total outside of the official counting area.

A new event based around trying to maintain your humanity is the nationwide 5k Zombie infested obstacle course called Run For Your Lives. It travels from state to state and involves running from zombified actors who are trying to steal your life (which are represented by flags around your waist.) There are survival kits with extra lives hidden throughout the course, though with zombies all around traversing this course is a one of kind experience. Nothing will train you to be better prepared if you’re caught on a camping trip at the beginning of the zombie apocalypse.

However, for those sitting at home the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) have some suggestions for survival. The government is taking the zombie threat seriously and it wants you to be ready for the outbreak. The CDC recommends you prepare an emergency kit in your house stocked with food, water, and medical supplies. They even commissioned a short educational comic to show the importance of preparedness for the moaning horde called Preparedness 101: Zombie Pandemic. It’s a free read and mildly entertaining, as it very much resembles a B-movie.

According to ABC news Home Land Security took it one step further by doing a rather costly scrimmage during last year’s counter terrorism summit. Each ticket was a thousand bucks and was paid by American tax dollars. After all what’s more important than training against terrifying flesh eaters?

Not to worry though, while the scrimmage was part of the thousand dollar summit, it was not the only thing money was spent on. If you want real misappropriation of funds, you should look no further than the subsidies going into the technology industry. Zombies rake in about five billion dollars a year into the American economy according to 24/7 Wall Street. There are books, movies, comics, costumes, art, and some very popular video games that fund the industry. There’s a cult following and an almost guaranteed income to anyone who puts out a product of even mediocre value. Despite that trend, The New York Times reports that video game developers who, “straddle the lines between software development, the entertainment industry, and online retailing,” get some major funding from the U.S. Government. That money goes to more than just zombie video games, but in the end parents weren’t thrilled when they learned their money was going towards the promotion of these violent creatures.

Whatever your disposition towards them, zombies are here to stay in American culture. Horror writers should take note that, should you wish it; there are several immersing experiences out there to inspire you. For now I will go back to watching the half time show. I’ve got plans that involve me, guacamole, bean dip, and a bit mindless entertainment.

Sources: 24/7 Wall Street, ABC, and The New York Times.

Kristen Saunders is an intern Penumbra EMag. She loves to write science fiction in her free time and recently started her blog The Musings of a Growing Writer.

MAKE ME CARE

by Davyne DeSye

“Mommy, how do you write a story?”

“One word at a time,” I answered – rather flippantly, I admit, but I was cooking dinner.

“A good story,” my daughter continued.

Ah. A more interesting question. I pondered how to answer as a chopped.

“I read a story Christina wrote for school. It was boring.” My daughter makes her guilt apparent in her furrowed brow – Christina is her best friend.

“Make me care,” I finally answered.

“You don’t care if her story was boring?” she asks, now perplexed. “Or you don’t care how to write a good story?”

Through my answering chuckle, I clarify: “I was answering your question. A story is a good one if you make me care.”

“Care about what?”

“What was Christina’s story about?” I ask.

“A boy who wrecks the neighbor’s flower garden,” she answers.

“Why did he do that?” I ask.

“I don’t really know. I guess he was mad.”

“What if he was mad because the neighbor killed his new puppy?” I ask.

“Oh. I guess I’d be mad, too. I’d feel sorry for the boy,” she answers.

“What if he was mad because his mother had just punished him?”

“I’d wonder why he got punished. Maybe he’s a bad kid, or maybe his mom is mean.”

“So, in one case, you would agree with him, and feel sorry for him, and in the second case, you’re wondering… is he mean, or is his mom? Is the story boring, now that you care? Now that you are trying to decide whether you like this boy or not?”

“Christina’s story wasn’t like that. It was boring.”

“She forgot to make you care. To write a good story, you have to make someone care what happens next, and you have to make them care about the people in the story. Like them, hate them, pity them, recognize them as someone you could be friends with, or someone who would scare you. Are you dreading what will happen next? Are you curious? Are you excited? If you can make someone care, then you’ve written a good story.”

As simplistic as my explanation was, it is true – at least as far as I’m concerned. When I write, I write for reaction. Any reaction. I call writing “bleeding on the page” or “vomiting on the page” – both conjured images rather vivid and disgusting, and thus, to my mind, rather apropos, if only because they garner a reaction. For each character, the question must be asked and answered: Why? Why is this character behaving in this way? What is she trying to accomplish, or to what from her past is she reacting? Then also, for each scene or setting, you must paint a picture that touches the reader’s senses in some way – the smell of fresh baked bread, the frigidity of the marble bench under thinly clad thighs, the grinding sound of a saw in the next room. Why has the character noticed these things? Why does she care?

Anticipation (of romance, of terror, of who is going to win the election, of how the new technology is going to change the way we interact) is what makes for good reading. Knowledge of why the character does what he does leads to wondering about how he’ll react when…

In short, if I don’t know that the boy was mad, or care why, it’s not a good story.

Make me care. That is all I ask. Thrust out the hook that will pull me along.

Davyne (pronounced "DAH-vee-ANN") DeSye was born to foreign royalty and spent her youth traveling among various countries assisting in her parents' efforts to acquire and refurbish old world castles. Davyne left her parents and their lives forever upon learning that she was born an orphan and was merely the subject of a nurture vs. nature experiment. She still loves to travel, although she tends to avoid visiting castles.

She now lives in Colorado with her husband and five children.

(Or at least that's the story this month...)

Davyne's stories have been published in, or will soon be appearing in Tomorrow, Daily Science Fiction, Penumbra eMag, MindFlights, Tales of the Talisman, Foliate Oak, and Nth Degree.

To learn more about Davyne, please visit her website.

A Moment with Christopher Cornell

Why did you choose to write speculative fiction instead of another genre?

We live in a world of miracle drugs, robotic companions and extraplanetary exploration. Likewise, we struggle with adaptive viruses, technological exploitation and diminishing privacies. Speculative fiction gives birth to many aspects of the modern world before they became part of everyday life. To read and write within this realm is to consider the possibilities of life, both great and horrible.

To speculate is not simply to imagine worlds that do not and will never exist. Imagination allows the reader, as well as the writer, to consider reality in a new light. Sometimes we reflect on the society we want to build; at other times, we spin cautionary tales that manifest our fears of what may come. Whether our heroes and heroines are from other worlds, or rooted firmly in our own, they can serve as markers for our progress as a society. Whenever Big Brother is referenced in a discussion of modern surveillance, or Judge Dredd considered the exemplary of a fascist police state, I am reminded of the role of speculative fiction in steering societal discourse. Many who have shaped our world grew up with Homer and Verne and LeGuin and Huxley. There can be little doubt these diverse voices have fueled the endeavors of those who turn fantasy into reality.

I write speculative fiction because it is more than a cataloging of the familiar. It’s an invitation to deconstruct the world and redeem it with what works, or damn it with what doesn’t. A work of fantasy or science fiction is the personal exploration of an idea, on a scale of one’s own choosing. Though some are tempted to consider such works frivolous entertainment, history proves otherwise. The dialog of our future begins within the pages of books and magazines. To continue that tradition is a true privilege, and provides impetus to continue expanding my own views on the world at large. These ideas need not become truth to accomplish their most important goal: broadening the discussion of where we are headed and what comes next.

I can’t begin to imagine what wonders of our near future have already been revealed within the pages of other authors. Where are the cars, submarines, elevators and satellites of the twenty-first century? The possibilities make reading fun. And heck, it’s pretty fun to write about, too.

But I’m still waiting for my flying car.

Christopher Cornell is a writer, musician, interface developer and somnambulist in California's East Bay. He has also studied film and television, and is a graduate of the Viable Paradise writers' workshop.

More information and inane anecdotes can be found on his website and Twitter.

The Psychology of Zombies

by Dianna L. Gunn

I've never been particularly fond of zombies. I mean, I've watched most of the Resident Evil movies and several other zombie films, but I've never quite understood the fascination. Zombies are, frankly, gross and unpleasant.


Personally, I prefer a classier villain. Take, for instance, vampires. Vampires are usually beautiful creatures that retain all their human intelligence. Anybody can fall for a vampire. They seem like people.

On the other hand, zombies are pretty distinctive creatures. The rotting flesh, the smell, the grunting rather than speech. Everyone I've ever met is able to recognize a zombie.

Common writing advice will tell you that people prefer villains they can connect to. They want to understand your villain. So why, then, do people enjoy zombie films so much?

Since people are too intelligent to really connect to villains who only speak in grunts, we must bring the appeal of zombies to a baser level: fear. Zombies are obviously frightening, and some people really love stories that make them shiver.

But what is it about zombies that makes them so frightening? Is it merely the fact that they're trying to eat human brains? Is it the fear of human deterioration? Or is it something deeper—say, the fear that we're becoming mindless drones controlled by capitalism? Perhaps it is a fear of the mob mentality.

I've considered several possibilities but so far there's only one certainty: people love zombie stories and I'll probably never know why. And while I'll never understand it, I do know one thing: people who like zombies will love this month's issue of Penumbra.

Dianna L. Gunn is a young Canadian fiction writer who specializes in dark fantasy. She also writes poetry, generally dark, which is her way of dealing with life. This insightful author hosts a website covering every aspect of fiction writing and interviews with noted guest authors.

Learn more about Dianna L. Gunn on her website and follow her on Twitter.

Another Step Along The Way

by Jude-Marie Green

If writing can be likened to a staircase, which is a lousy metaphor but will do for this idea, there’s that important step between typing “the end,” and typing, “Dear Editor, Please consider my story,” the step of critique, of giving the story up to the writers’ group. The cold, grimy hands of the writers’ group. The ice-rimed hearts and acid-filled pens of the writers’ group. Family, best friends, acquaintances, professionals, and other strangers who take a gimlet eye to the words and deliberately misconstrue every nuance of plot, every turn of phrase, every poetical use of a semi-colon.

In other words, the writers’ group is invaluable. Mine saves me from myself all the time.

I’ve worked with writers’ groups since before I started writing. Readers are an important resource for critique, right? I’ve participated in workshop critiquing at conventions from Potlatch (a small, West Coast literary genre convention) to WorldCon (the World Science Fiction Convention.) I’ve been in Critters (online critique) and Speculations (online writers’ group with occasional critiquing opportunities, now sadly defunct.) I’ve attended workshops from the thre day weekend of the Borderlands Bootcamp (in Baltimore,) to the two week Center For the Study of Science Fiction workshop (in Lawrence, Kansas,) to the six week extravaganza of Clarion West. The experience of these workshops was invaluable. My story, written in intense privacy and passion, was exposed to others’ experience and reading prejudices and ability with grammar, plot, and characterization that I myself don’t necessarily have.

These workshops are a professional honing stone. What have I learned from them? I’ve had my faults as a story-teller revealed. This is invaluable knowledge. Once I know my faults I can learn to spot them myself and work on them. Plus, the audience is small enough and sympathetic enough that I don’t fear being told the story is worthless, even if I know in my heart that maybe it’s not an award-winner.

I’ve been with my long-term in-person writers’ group, The Writers’ Orbit, for several years. Once a month, we dedicate a Sunday to story critique. We spend the first hour around the table eating potluck and chatting. Once we get through announcements – who has sold what to or been rejected from which market, who has been invited to speak at what seminar, and similar writerly news – the critique begins. We use the Clarion method. The writer remains mute while critics have a few minutes each, in turn, to discuss individual impressions about the story. I sit there with my teeth gritted behind a plastic smile and write down the comments. They’re all valid. Some of the ideas I won’t be able to use, they won’t help the heart of my story. Some I’ll steal wholesale. At the end of the first round I get to do something a writer can’t do in real life: explain myself. Yes, there’s a reason the butterflies are yellow. I’ll try to foreshadow that more. No, I didn’t know about skunks and exuda, thank you for mentioning that.

In my group, there’s a second clarifying round of commentary and discussion, then the written comments are passed down the table to me. My story’s taken its first step up the staircase.

(My favorite critique I’ve ever garnered came from a first-timer with sharp eyes. She said, “Um, your first sentence? Where your character is watching the sun rise in the West? Doesn’t the sun rise in the East?”)

Jude-Marie Green has edited for Abyss&Apex, Noctem Aeternus, and 10Flash Quarterly. She has an interview with Larry Niven appearing in Michael Knost’s “Writers Workshop of Science Fiction,” coming in April 2013. Also, she has a Deadliest Catch In Space story appearing in MENIAL: Skilled Labor in Science Fiction, released January 21, 2013.

To learn more about Jude-Marie Green, please visit her website.

Prompts for the Poet

by Beth Cato

I used to believe in Muses, in writing only when inspiration galloped through my head. And you know what happened? I rarely wrote. Inspiration is a fickle thing.

A few years ago, I decided that I wanted to write speculative poetry as well as fiction. There are lots of romantic ideas about poets and Muses, but in my experience, it's rare that I spontaneously create a poem. Ordering myself to think of a poem on the spot will likely cause me to go completely and utterly blank. It's too much pressure. The world is too vast, and most poems are a brief flash of emotion. I need a narrower focus. I need prompts.

Almost all of my poetry is written during two months of the year, April and November. That's when the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides Blog hosts its Poem A Day Challenge. The name really says it all: for the thirty days of each of those months, the goal is to write a daily poem. Most of the prompts are general enough that they can easily be adapted to a science fiction or fantasy focus. This is made even easier by markets like Penumbra that supply their themes well in advance. I can approach the challenge, already knowing, "Okay, let's see if I can combine this day's prompt with the Fae, or gaslight fantasy."

That narrow focus means everything when I'm trying to shove a full story of subtext into twenty lines of verse. Speculative poetry has a lot in common with flash fiction in that you want a straightforward plot or image, and very few characters. I rarely use names. It's enough to attach pronouns. I also can approach the poems knowing that the editors and readers likely have a thorough understanding of mythology or other tropes of the genre. This means I can get to the magical heart or scientific angle of the poem right away. There's no time for development or explanation.

Each day of April and November, I begin by looking at the basic prompt. Then I look at other prompts to layer with it. I let my thoughts drift. I go wash dishes, bake cookies, or work on another writing project, and all the while these prompts are clashing in my head.

With the goal of one poem a day, there's no time to mess around. I can't wait for Muses. My creative process is violent. I'm jamming together puzzle pieces from completely different sets. Oftentimes, the first line comes into my head, and the rest of the poem flows from there. I usually don't know how it will end until it ends. The poem finds its natural rhythm with its unnatural subject matter, and takes on a life of its own.

If a Muse does visit me, it's not because I'm idle in wait for inspiration. It's because I set a trap and lured her in.

Beth Cato's poetry can be found in The Christian Science Monitor, The Pedestal Magazine, Every Day Poets, and on various pieces of paper crammed into her purse. She lives in Arizona, but is from Hanford, California.

Learn more about Beth on her website.

TRUST THE VOICES

by Davyne DeSye

My family thinks I’m nuts – the benign, harmless kind of nuts – because I hear voices in my head. It came to the fore one time when I was writing, madly banging away at the keyboard, when one of them interrupted me with mundane household question. I don’t recall the question. My response was, “Hush, hush, give me a minute. They’re talking and if I don’t get it all down, I’ll miss it. They won’t just come back later and say it all again for me.”

And then I was back to it, and it wasn’t long before I had managed to “transcribe” the conversation.

Yes, if you have developed a character well enough in your head, if you know what motivates them, they’ll do all the work for you.

This is true whether you are the kind of writer who starts writing a story with nothing more than an intriguing first line or idea, or whether you are of the plot/outlining ilk. If you have developed a character that will truly stand out from the page, he or she will do all the work. You won’t have to wonder what they will say, or how they will react under certain stimuli, or why they seem to misunderstand a situation. They tell you. They do it. You just have to get it down.

Thomas Harris described much the same process in his “Forward to a Fatal Interview” which appeared in a reprinting of his novel, Red Dragon. In that forward he explains how he first “met” his character, Hannibal Lecter.

The question then becomes how best or how most easily to develop your character to the point where they are bearing the load. One of my favorite tools for this is to “interview” the character – to ask questions about the character that will help you to understand who they are. Most of the information you garner will not make it into the story, but will help you transfer the workload from your shoulders to theirs. Of course, you have to ask questions like: What is your name? Age? Sex? Are you tall or short, brunette or bald, thin or fat? Do you walk with a limp? (Why?) But you can also ask more interesting questions, like: What was the happiest moment in your life? The worst? What fears wake you up at night (or do you always sleep peacefully)? What do you keep in your refrigerator? What do you use for transportation? What do you do with your hands when you are thinking/nervous/happy? What trinket (or piece of furniture, or tool) do you keep because it means something to you? What are your hobbies or phobias? What good or bad habits do you have?

When you interview your characters, be an investigative reporter – follow the leads your character gives you. You wouldn’t ask the same questions of a Hollywood star that you’d ask of an old woman living on scraps in an abandoned building. The character (and the story) will dictate some of the questions, or even the number of questions.

Once you’ve finished your interview, you’ll find that you are more interested in your character, that your character is richer than you initially imagined. You’ll find you can hear their voice in your head. When you set them loose, even within the framework you’ve constructed for them, you’ll notice that they do all the walking, thinking, jumping… and talking for you.

Trust the voices.

Davyne (pronounced "DAH-vee-ANN") DeSye was born to foreign royalty and spent her youth traveling among various countries assisting in her parents' efforts to acquire and refurbish old world castles. Davyne left her parents and their lives forever upon learning that she was born an orphan and was merely the subject of a nurture vs. nature experiment. She still loves to travel, although she tends to avoid visiting castles.

She now lives in Colorado with her husband and five children.

(Or at least that's the story this month...)

Davyne's stories have been published in, or will soon be appearing in Tomorrow, Daily Science Fiction, Penumbra eMag, MindFlights, Tales of the Talisman, Foliate Oak, and Nth Degree.

To learn more about Davyne, please visit her website.

Confidence as a Work in Progress

by Christopher Cornell

Ask most writers about self-confidence and be prepared for heavy sighs. The industry is set up to accommodate failure more often than not, and even the most confident artist or wordsmith must deal with disappointment on a regular basis. The road to every acceptance is paved with rejection slips. Judging by several conversations with well-established professionals, the struggle does not end with a bestseller or glowing reviews. And, in this most solitary of pursuits, the need for positive reinforcement is readily apparent.

This problem is near and dear to me as I make strides toward becoming a professional writer. Maintaining enthusiasm is often harder than turning out a good read. Here are a few things I’ve learned from thoughtful others (or am attempting to learn, in spite of myself):

Write, write, write. Submit, submit, submit. The more you write, the less attached you become to each individual word. The more material you submit to markets, the less those individual “no thank you” letters matter. (Also, the more chances you have for an acceptance. Sounds logical, but I have to remind myself every so often.)

Remember the good. Keep good feedback on hand to pull out when the sea of rejections and bad notices reaches a high tide.

Have confidence in the reader. When you’re creating an entire world on the page, it’s easy to get caught up in wanting to convey every detail. Readers appreciate bring allowed to figure things out for themselves. And it’s okay for the story to hold different meaning for someone else. Of course, too much/not enough is a delicate balance. But once achieved, they’ll respect you.

Constructive criticism for the win. When someone tells you what doesn’t work for them as a reader, they are helping you strengthen your work. As long as noted problems are specific and fixable, everyone wins. “It sucks” doesn’t help, but “I lost interest at this point” certainly does.

People will hate your work. This can’t be helped. As a colleague recently impressed upon me, wanting to be liked by everyone is the mark of an amateur. Do what you do, and find your audience. Everyone else can read something else, and it’s just fine.

The interwebs are best served with a grain of salt. It’s a fact that people who are dissatisfied with something are far more likely to express their feelings. And sometimes it gets ugly. The perceived anonymity of the internet encourages some to indulge in behavior they wouldn’t dream of in person. (As an artist friend noted, “Whenever I start feeling too good about myself, I read reviews online.”) You know the drill: don’t feed the trolls. And don’t stoop to that level in return.

Write what you enjoy. If you love your work, others will, too. Then the trick becomes finding those others.

Failing that, Scotch works well. In moderation.

Christopher Cornell is a writer, musician, interface developer and somnambulist in California's East Bay. He has also studied film and television, and is a graduate of the Viable Paradise writers' workshop.

More information and inane anecdotes can be found on his website and on Twitter.