[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
AN ARK OF SUB GENRES
Hello, all! Melanie here.
It’s rained quite hard here in New Hampshire. Our town flooded, a few roads were washed away, and some residents lost access to the outside world altogether. My house was mostly spared but nonetheless acquired a foot of water. Two weeks later, we’ve finally got the musty smell out of the air, although there are so many fans in my basement, I’m afraid we might drift skyward like a house balloon.
We haven’t heard from Writer X for a couple weeks, either. As it turns out, Cradensburg, NH, received significantly more flooding than we did, and her hands were full.
Remember that entire wing X hired gnomes to add to her house? I know this will come as a surprise to many, but when gnomes throw up square footage in the course of one or two weeks, there are a few architectural drawbacks.
Without further ado…
Subject: Ark replacement
Dear Gladys,
I would have written you earlier but I had trouble getting flights home from Mount Ararat. Ever since 2020 the airlines have become incorrigible!!!
First, we couldn’t find a direct flight from Mount Ararat to Cradensburg, NH which is just mind blowing that an airline would never think to connect these two VERY IMPORTANT PARTS of the map!!! Fortunately for us, I was able to put together a very nearly ALMOST direct series of flights that saved at least $30 per ticket. When I mentioned we’re all writers, they told us they would give us extra air.
Secondly, on the first leg of our trip from Yerevan to Hong Kong, they promised us complementary pretzels but ran out of them while we were still over Saudi airspace!!! Then, on the fourth leg of our return trip from Melbourne, Australia to Oshkosh, Wisconsin, we threw a high altitude hula party but the stewards informed us the airline has a strict policy about serving alcoholic beverages to passengers who are only wearing body paint, to say nothing of the pigs swinging around on stripper poles. You can’t have a hula without pigs, Gladys!!!!!
Of course I had to reel things in. You know how those far future science fiction writers fly. They are wild and free. But by the time our passports were returned on the tenth leg of our return trip we had worked things out.
Anyhoo, you’re probably dying to know how my writing is going. Things were going quite nicely and my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, and I were having an ordinary Monday afternoon writing in the writing wing of our house. Tryxy was also having a particularly lovely day. He had just perfected his rainy day playlist so that it was nothing but a #MOOD, and he had brushed #bestkitten, trimmed her claws, and finally removed the very last of her cat hair off his favorite terry track suit.
Sometime after that, our house began to float. First there was a loud crack as the new wing tore away from the original cape cod structure, and then we were drifting. At first it was enjoyable. Do you ever drive around and look into people’s windows? Of course you do, it’s enormous fun. Well, what if you could stay in the comforts of your own home while floating through the neighborhood and seeing whose calico cat is sitting in the window and who is watching television in dingy boxer shorts???
But after a couple hours of that, the rains fell in earnest and Main Street Cradensburg turned into rapids. The house began to pitch this way and that and when Tryxy’s statue of Lil Nas X dislodged and went flying through the house, I lost at least a third of my faberge eggs (THEY’RE MY LATEST OBSESSION, GLADYS!!!) Something had to be done, but when I threw open a window to cry for help, that’s when I learned someone else had already beaten me to the punch and was crying for rescue out there.
It was a small writing critique group who had gathered on this rainiest of days during a flood watch and there they were, stranded on top of a porch with their latest works in progress and a speckled pony. We stuck our arms out the window and rescued them all before the tidal wake of our house swept them all away!!!!
Once the writers, the works in progress, and the pony were safe indoors, we had another problem on our hands: THE HOUSE WAS PITCHING SOMETHING AWFUL!!! If I didn’t act quickly, I would lose another third of my faberge eggs and Tryxy would lose his lunch!!!
Fortunately for us, we spotted another lost soul standing on the roof of a floating SUV with their laptop held high over their head lest their short stories be wiped from the earth!!!! Tryxy made kind of life preserver from a rope and a deflated exercise ball and flung it out to that poor writer!!! The writer threw her laptop onto the exercise ball, plunged into the water, and splonked around as we drew her in to safety.
We had quite a crowd in the southern part of the floating wing what with the speckled pony and all. But there was news of another flock of writers stranded on the roof of an Aroma Joes, clinging to their cats, and the rapids were already carrying us in that direction!!!
Tryxy suggested that if there were going to be any more people climbing aboard this vessel, could we—for the love of god and hiphop—come up with a way of organizing them so that our weights were evenly distributed and we could be done with this horrible pitching back and forth.
This is when I concocted the Ark of Subgenres System, also known as the A.of S. S.!!! I sprang into action designating that fantasy writers fill the rooms to the north, science fiction to the south, and horror fill the rooms in the west. Four-legged people could take the upper floors and I installed Tryxy as Manager of that particular Mess.
But then my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, said what about Weird? And I said, What’s Weird? And he said, No, weird fiction I mean, where do we put them? And I said, You’re right, this is a disaster waiting to happen.
So then we determined that since there are more rooms on the north and south sides of the house, that some of the rooms abutting the west would be assigned to weird.
How do we know which side to put a weird writer on? North or South? By weight? my boyfriend asked.
By weight???? Don’t be preposterous, I said. If their work is weird but has things that behave like magic or is set in the past, we’ll put them in the Weird Fantasy rooms to the north. And if it’s weird but has advanced technology or is set in the future, then we’ll put them in the Weird Science Fiction rooms to the south.
Crisis averted, said my boyfriend.
Only that’s when our floating house went spinning by a group of young writers who had congregated in a rapidly deteriorating treehouse. Most of them wrote Corrective Harry Potter Fan Fiction that seeks to undo the damage that She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named is doing to witches and wizards everywhere so, before we knew it, the north end of the house was over populated and my faberge eggs quivered perilously from the northern edge of the display case.
There were still three writers who had not been assigned rooms and none of them knew what genre they belonged to exactly. We quickly asked them to describe their latest works in progress and, wouldn’t you know it, two of them were science fiction. I became very excited because one of them was a triple threat. He was very smart, very good looking, and fantastically fat. Unfortunately, when we came to the third of them, she announced that she wrote science fantasy and then we were stuck moving people into different rooms all over again!!!!
Science fantasy is its own genre, Gladys!!!!!
That was when we passed the pet shop. We sent out rescue crafts and quickly passed all the cats, puppies, ferrets, iguanas, birds and tarantulas into the house and Tryxy developed his own little organization system and assigned them to rooms two by two.
No one was expecting the talking pigs. We passed an abandoned animal farm on Dead Mist Hill and collected three alapacas, one goat, and six pigs whom a mad scientist/pole fitness instructor had trained to talk.
That’s when award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins said, What about talking animals?
They go up to Tryxy, I said.
No, I mean are we failing to account for talking animal stories?
They’re fantasy, I said.
Yes, but if we’re putting weird fantasy down near horror, shouldn’t we put fabulist fiction at the other end? It’s starting to tip a little westward and if we keep going this way, we’ll end up in Maine, he said.
But before we could do anything about it, one of the science fiction writers came back out and said, What if my story has a ghost? Do I still belong in science fiction?
Weird science fiction, Tod BOadkins and I said in unison.
But what if the ghost isn’t weird, what if it’s a retelling of The Christmas Carol but in space? asked the writer.
And then we had to rearrange everyone all over again. Meanwhile, Tryxy was on the upper floor in hog heaven, you know how he loves animals. However, it turns out that there is only so much pet hair a terry cloth tracksuit can sustain without become an irreversible ball of fluff and the alpacas were particularly affectionate and the goat ate Tryxy’s favorite sandals.
Before anyone had anytime to settle in, we passed a barn with about thirty writers and their cats taking refuge on the roof and two of them were slipstream and one of them wrote comic books. No matter how we arranged and rearranged, the sudden influx of wet, clingy, disgruntled cats threatened to capsize the whole vessel and we hit a whirlpool and spun clear across New Hampshire, up through Maine, and into the Atlantic.
Fortunately, we had a room with at least two Christian fantasy writers who were able to provide ark-steering instructions and I was able to gain control of things and land us safely on Ararat and book all our trips back home.
Or what was left of my home. When Tryxy, #bestkitten, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins and I got back, we were greeted by a tiny cape cod with a hole in the back of it, a statue of Lil Nas X in the front yard, and absolutely nowhere to put my remaining faberge eggs!!!!
The DDOS Panel at Readercon expressed caution and reassurance, while circling the heart of what Story is, and whether AI could ever do it well.
By Melanie Stormm: On Saturday, July 15, 2023, a panel of SFF editors, writers, and experts convened to discuss the current situation and approaches used to address the waves of AI spam submissions. The participants were John P. Murphy, current SFWA vice president; Matthew Kressel, author of King of Shards and creator of the Moksha system; Scott H. Andrews, editor of Beneath Ceaseless Skies; Sheila Williams, editor of Asimov’s, and the editor for Clarkesworld, Neil Clarke.
The panel expressed both uncertainty and reassurance. Writers looking to sell their short fiction to the genre’s most celebrated publications need not worry that months of painstaking labor can be outdone by an AI submission cooked up with the click of a mouse. Yet. AI fiction offerings are just plain terrible and terrible in new and innovative ways not yet discovered by humans. That’s the good news.
Particularly inspiring were the alacritous approaches that award-winning editor Neil Clarke (As Seen On TV), and award-nominated writer, editor, and creator of the Moksha submissions system, Matthew Kressel, have developed to address the crisis that the burst of AI spam submissions has created. Stretching over all of this, a pall of uncertainty.
Maybe pall isn’t the right word. Maybe describing the uncertainty as an ocean through which we all move would be more apt. Or perhaps it would be better to say the fish themselves are the sources of uncertainty.
If you’ve been hiding under a subaquatic rock or writing a book—two acts that produce similar outcomes—forget the fish for now and let’s catch you up on things.
Neil Clarke, Scott H. Andrews, Sheila Williams, Matthew Kressel, and John P. Murphy at Readercon.
The Swarm
In February 2023, one of the highest-paying markets for short speculative fiction closed to submissions for a then undetermined period for the first time since opening in 2006. Spoilers: it was Clarkesworld magazine. A swarm of five hundred-plus AI-written stories overwhelmed a system that necessarily relies on reading to discover new stories.
Clarkesworld was not alone. Sheila Williams experienced an onslaught of AI subs. Asimov’s uses the same submission system designed by Neil Clarke. Instead of slush readers digging through the seven hundred or more story submissions Asimov’s receives monthly, Williams personally handles each story.
In April, AI submissions initially peaked for Asimov’s. Things improved in May, but by June, the submissions shot up again; over 235 were AI spam submissions. When the media interviewed Williams in early spring, she reflected that she still had a sense of humor about the whole thing. But later, when the Wall Street Journal knocked on her door, she had run out of jokes. “It isn’t as time consuming [for me] as it would be for someone who isn’t an expert, but it is awful…By the time the WSJ interviewed me, I was so annoyed. I had no humor. I want to spend that time looking for new writers.”
Editor of the award-winning online fantasy magazine Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Scott H. Andrews, has similar struggles. However, due to the uniquely narrow submission guidelines, Beneath Ceaseless Skies has been spared the mass swarm of AI spam submissions at the time of the panel. Instead, writers of AI-assisted stories targeted the publisher of literary adventure fantasy, a kind of submission on a level all its own.
Firefighters
Before detailing the responses editors and developers are creating to respond to the AI spam crisis, it’s advantageous to describe how the SFF short fiction donuts get made and the toll such submissions have on the process. One of the best descriptions of how human slush readers handle volume is in a viral Twitter thread by Matthew Kressel. The thread was written in October 2022, just one month before ChatGPT became popular.
The Moksha submissions system is used by over forty publishers to receive, reject, and accept fiction, non-fiction, and poetry from writers around the world.
In the thread, Kressel writes:
“Assuming a modest submission rate of 50 stories per day (which is pretty average for Moksha publishers), and an average length of 5,000 words, that’s 250,000 words per day, or approximately 2 novels per day…
Yes, most publishers hire slush readers to help them sift through incoming submissions, so let’s assume they have 10 readers total (which is more than average), that means each reader needs to read 25,000 words per day.
That slush reader, who is most likely an unpaid volunteer, has to read ~175,000 words per week, because people submit on weekends too (often more),
This while keeping their day job and trying not to estrange their significant other and hopefully having some time to eat and sleep and maybe even a moment to relax and unwind.”
For the record, the original prompt for Kressel’s post was explaining to new writers why publishers must issue many story rejections without comment. The moral is there isn’t enough time in the day, and slush readers and editors don’t necessarily read your entire story.
One of the first replies to this thread was that the answer to these swift and impersonal rejections was that AI should be fed previous submissions to sort and manage the volume of human submissions. As it turns out, Story is far more complex than many people know, and current AI can only do so much so well. It stands to reason that if AI can’t write a good story, it can’t recognize one.
During the panel, Sheila Williams illustrated such a point. “Twenty-five percent of submissions in June were AI. We had 935. I try to get rid of these very fast. Neil [Clarke] has designed something that helps me and has shared places with me to help me identify those submissions, but I’m faster than those places.”
For others, relying solely on human expertise to identify and extract AI submissions quickly became impossible.
By the numbers, Clarkesworld was slammed. According to Neil Clarke, Clarkesworld receives an average of 1100 monthly submissions. In December, after ChatGPT first achieved widespread use, Clarkesworld identified fifty AI spam submissions.
“These were unusual stories showing up,” Clarke said. “Bad in ways no human was bad before.”
In January, this number doubled to one hundred. By February 20, 2023, five hundred submissions hit Clarkesworld’s system. Fifty new AI submissions arrived the morning Clarkesworld announced its closure.
First, Neil Clarke, who has a professional background in computer science and designed the Clarkesworld submissions system used by several publications, made adjustments to the firewall and the software. “That was far more effective than we thought it would be,” Clarke said. By March, Clarkesworld reduced AI spam submissions down to about two hundred.
SFF stories have diligently shown us that the Empire Strikes Back, and so did the AI submissions. Neil Clarke concluded, “By May, they had figured out what we had done, and we were then up to seven hundred.”
That is seven hundred surplus AI spam submissions, not including the submissions blocked by the firewall and software defenses.
The Second Wave
Spammers in the second wave were no longer flying in the dark. They had Clarkesworld in their sites, and the internet became rich with posts guiding people on using science fiction prompts to send AI stories to Clarkesworld.
Other experts in network security, credit card fraud, and spam contacted Clarkesworld, giving tips and further advice on reducing attacks that have doubled Clarkesworld’s already high submission volume.
Clarke spoke to the nature of the submissions. “And that’s how I would qualify these. These are spam.” And yet Clarkesworld, Asimov’s, and other publications are reluctant to rely entirely on firewalls, software, and AI tools to identify and automatically ban suspicious submissions.
Suspicious submissions are now relegated to the bottom of the pile so that editors can quickly read and release or accept submissions from human authors. After all, many of these publications don’t accept simultaneous submissions. This means that when an author submits a work for consideration, they must either wait for the editor to respond before submitting it elsewhere or withdraw the piece if time goes on too long. This practice works, and in the wider writing world, genre magazines have some of the fastest and most considerate turnaround times in the business (and are among the highest-paying, too.)
The careful ways in which each panelist identifies and considers suspicious content speaks to how passionate they are about giving new authors a chance, but also how little AI tools can be trusted to identify AI. Detectors have falsely flagged authors for whom English is a second language as AI-generated content.
Another takeaway was how considerate editors are of their slush readers, frequently working to ensure first readers are spared having to wade through spam.
Neil Clarke (Clarkesworld) and Scott H. Andrews (Beneath Ceaseless Skies).
It’s no secret that more spam comes from a handful of geographical regions than anywhere else. While some have suggested banning submissions originating in those locales in the interest of the greater good, no editor on the panel wants solutions like this. For Sheila Williams, the chance to bring exciting new SFF stories from unknown writers worldwide is too important. She reads each suspicious entry first and bans only once she’s positive it’s AI.
Neil Clarke described the human toll. “This is a constantly evolving state; we’re in this never-ending battle. It’s a lot of extra work. It would be great if these were legit stories, but it’s very frustrating. I found [reading spam] was beginning to interfere with the way I was reading submissions. Being irritated is not a good state of mind to be in when evaluating someone’s work.”
In describing the specifics of his approaches, Clarke was decisively vague. Matthew Kressel echoed the same strategy of playing cards close to the vest. One thing is clear: the sources of the AI spam don’t want to write good SFF stories; they want to trick genre editors into handing over their wallets.
The Ceaseless Submissions at Beneath Ceaseless Skies
As seen at Beneath Ceaseless Skies, AI submissions pose a threat on more than one front. Beneath Ceaseless Skies is among the most respected and coveted publication credits in the genre today—a status that puts a target on its back for AI spammers. Still, within a niche genre, it occupies an ultra-niche space.
A writer with a few years of practice may quickly identify a character-driven story from a plot-driven one. Still, in a world where genre lovers cut their eye teeth on film and TV as much as on the written form, many readers and young writers aren’t aware of the difference.
BCS qualifies what it will publish in almost every category. BCS only publishes (1) character-driven (2) adventure stories that (3) take place in secondary world (4) fantasy settings that (5) exhibit technologies no more advanced than those available during the 1930s. Furthermore, (6) the stories must be literary in craft. This craft is characterized by an intentionality and awareness within the prose that takes years to master.
And editor Scott H. Andrews has to like it (7).
Beneath Ceaseless Skies receives an average of three hundred submissions each month. They currently have five first readers, but Andrews reads the first page or so of every submission before assigning them to first readers. Once ChatGPT became more mainstream, Andrews started seeing an influx of submissions with cover letter mentions that the stories had been written with the assistance of AI. Andrews’ stance on AI submissions, assisted or otherwise, is informed by ethical and legal grounds. None of these submissions could ever be seriously considered for publication. Still, with curiosity and prudence, Andrews took a closer look at these new offerings.
Andrews explained there are many ways an author might use AI to “assist” a story; some are less harmful. Spellcheck is one, Grammarly is another. He and Matthew Kressel both warned against over-reliance on apps like Grammarly, which in the wrong hands, can flatten a writer’s voice and turn strong writing into hollow, mediocre text. These AI-assisted submissions weren’t specific as to how authors used AI in creating the story, but it was quickly apparent to Andrews that it went beyond Grammarly.
“Even though at BCS I’m not seeing the spam ones so much, I’m seeing the assisted ones, I still felt a sheen in those that was like nothing I’ve ever read from a human writer,” says Andrews.
By his description, AI-assisted stories sound slightly better than those that qualify as spam but also present different ethical and legal questions.
Andrews says: “I had to think of what exactly I should say. Different folks have different views so I fumbled around a bit and saw some things that Neil [Clarke] had written. I went with the definition that the US Copyright office put out this spring. Their quote was something to the effect that ‘the traditional elements of authorship can’t be done by a language model.’”
An AI approach to “writing” that relies on Language Learning Models is not copyrightable. The author doesn’t own the story and hence cannot license it to a publisher.
Legality feels like a firm foundation on which to build a stance for or against AI-assisted work, but even here, the ocean injects uncertainty.
“Some zines in our field are publishing LLM-created fiction anyway; it’s unclear how they’re handling the legal side of things,” Andrews points out. “The legal status would change if courts or laws deemed these LLMs’ use a legal fair use or deemed LLM-created works copyrightable.” The decisions of the Supreme Court or US Copyright Office are beyond any SFF publisher’s control.
Beneath Ceaseless Skies updated submission guidelines in March to reflect that AI-assisted works were unwelcome. Moksha also offers users an option that requires writers to declare if the stories they’re submitting are created using AI, and BCS avails itself of a similar tool.
The result? Cover letters stopped declaring AI assistance while stories containing that unnatural sheen continued to flow in. At the time of this writing, BCS has also seen an uptick in spam submissions.
Uncertain Fish
AI spam and AI-assisted submissions have threatened our publication communities in multiple ways, and all involved agree this is far from over. But it’s not the AI that poses a threat; it’s the humans involved at nearly every level that makes it so malignant. Enter the uncertain fish from earlier.
LLMs are fed copyrighted material at the developer level without authors’ permission. Regardless of legality, taking and using something without someone’s permission is stealing.
On Saturday, July 22nd, Matthew Kressel tweeted:
“None of the so-called commitments by the seven AI companies addresses illegal scraping and theft of copyrighted content. Why? Because their business models would collapse if they had to pay people for the terabytes of content they are stealing.”
Most SFF writers shudder at thinking of LLMs illegally scraping their published work to populate AI stories, crappy or otherwise. But published work isn’t all that’s exposed to scraping.
When interviewing Kressel for this post, he highlighted the following: “The issue we have now…is that data is forever. Previously, when you submitted a paper manuscript in the mail to a publisher, it is most likely going in the dump when they’re done…But now, it’s easy to keep stuff around forever.”
In other words, Kressel had to take specific strides on behalf of Moksha to protect unpublished and rejected submissions from illegal scraping. Who scrapes what is an ethical call by developers who often have their own best interests at heart. Writers should not assume the content of their Google Doc files are safe, although Kressel hasn’t personally stopped using Google Docs just yet. “Moksha’s manuscripts are locked behind an encrypted firewall, only accessible by the publisher, but even then, we need to have firm safeguards.”
Who scrapes what threatens emerging writers and SFF readers, too. Many writers make their name writing short fiction. Getting publication in top mags is a path to attracting agents and publishing longer works either independently or traditionally. But agents and publishers are only part of a writer’s career path—readers are the most essential. Publishing short fiction, especially in publications that make work available eternally online, can allow writers to build readership quickly. A reader who discovers a writer could access several of their stories with a mouse click and become a dedicated fan.
SFF is experiencing a new golden age created partly by online publication opening doors to a global readership. Global readership speaks not only of previously unreached audiences on the Asian and African continents but also of reaching more readers on continents that SFF already enjoys community. Rural and remote areas often lack bookstores offering copies of the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction or Clarkesworld. Online presses have carried some of our most loved stories to excited new fans who would not otherwise have access to them.
Several SFF editors and writers have expressed worry over the future of online SFF publications if authors don’t feel sufficiently protected. If authors start preferring print-only models or having stories locked behind bullet-proof paywalls, the inroads our community has created could crumble quickly. Whatever our disputes, this community exists because there are enough positive, trusting relationships between writers, readers, and publishers.
So what about all the bad AI-generated stories? Who are they, and where do they get off? The SFF ocean is flooded with schools of spammers who don’t come from the global SFF community.
“They have no idea there’s a community,” said Sheila Williams. “This is not their dream. They just found a way to make some money.” Some submissions address Williams with notes saying, “I heard about your side hustle. Please send money to my Western Union.”
The source of AI-assisted work is more challenging to parse. Undoubtedly, outsiders who care as much for the genre as they do the firewalls they’re trying to evade are responsible for some, but not all.
Combing subreddits and SFF discord servers yields a surplus of discussions on how to use AI to do some of the hard work of writing a story, but yelling at these writers isn’t the right approach either. It takes a long time to learn how to write stories and even longer to do it reliably. Writers don’t get to pause life, and some are understandably tempted by the lure of making this easier. AI aside, the internet is chockfull of cobbled-together courses, books, and free eGuides that promise to make the road to publication fast and easy. Some of them are even good, but those don’t promise to make it easy, just clearer.
Some see LLMs as a way of teaching themselves how to write better science fiction. Clarke asked: “Do you really want to learn from something that stole other writers’ work?”
The ethics of AI assistance needs to be more explicit in other areas. Screenwriters with the Writers Guild of America stipulated that they would allow for the use of AI only as it assisted them with their original work but drew a line against machine-generated storylines or dialogue qualifying as “literary material.”
AI is no small issue in the current writer’s strike. In 2017, the average full time writer made a yearly salary of just $20,000. A world where writers must share a byline with AI is terrifying as writers are isolated further from benefiting from their own trade. My Saponi mother would call this being put on a reservation.
The technological battle is ongoing, the legal one may take years to play out in courts and could reverse at any time, but the ethical issues are within our power to address.
Speaking outside of Readercon, some editors have suggested that the answer to this ethical attack on our community is more community.
Kressel says, “What I’d like to see is the SFF community coalesce around a set of core values, similar if not identical to Neil’s statement on AI. And I’d like to see SFWA and others release draft language, similar to how they offer boilerplate contracts, to (a) protect authors, (b) protect publishers, and recognize that both are necessary for a healthy community going forward. I understand the situation is rapidly evolving, but that doesn’t mean we can’t affirm our values now.”
Just a day after Kressel made that (yet unpublished) statement, SFWA encouraged members to read and sign the Author’s Guild open letter. This development was a promising community response. The current SFWA vice president and author, John P. Murphy, served as the moderator for this panel. Salient fact: he holds a doctorate in Machine Learning.
In all of this uncertainty, it’s clear that we must stick our necks out and protect the relationships that make our community possible, even if the immediate threat is the growing amount of spam that continues to overwhelm our publications. AI assistance is not a threat from outside our community but comes from within; it’s a longer-term issue.
Can AI Tell Good Stories?
In 1972, George R.R. Martin published an essay about chess-playing computers in Analog. It was titled “The Computer Was A Fish,” and Sheila Williams referenced it during the panel. The moral of the essay was that chess-playing computers were terrible. In the last year, we’ve seen the chess world rocked by the illegal use of AI that gave players unfair advantages in tournaments. Leaders developed better ways to identify cheating and more severe repercussions for violations to protect the integrity of the game.
It is still unclear whether Language Learning Models and the other AI forms that will replace them will become incredible at telling stories that fascinate human readers. Most editors doubt AI can develop the capacity, yet SFF readers and writers never get tired of asking, “What if?”
One attendee at the DDOS panel posed a hypothetical question to the panelists: “What if a developer takes it as a challenge to create AI that writes a story that wins a Hugo?”
“That’s a wonderful story,” Neil Clarke mused.
Sheila Williams interjected, “—That a human being came up with.”
Thanks to the DDOS panelists, John P. Murphy, Matthew Kressel, Scott H. Andrews, Sheila Williams, and Neil Clarke. Thanks also to Bernard Steen for providing photos and to PJ T. de Barros for providing an audio recording of the panel as reference.
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
THE TROUBLE WITH BAERS
Hello All, Melanie here!
In recent weeks, Writer X has solved the dilemma on How to Become Famous Instantly When You Are A New/Early Career SFF Writer. The answer is simple: write something that no one else has written.
Now, I hear some of you saying that this is what all writers have to do if they don’t want to spend valuable money and years of their lives being sued for plagiarism. Plagiarism is complicated, as we learned last week when X formed a Not For Profit organization dedicated to fighting Pre-Stolen ideas. You don’t have to plagiarize to accuse someone else of nicking your idea.
In previous iterations of this goal, Writer X created a “new genre.” In this current iteration, she’s mashing up two different genre conventions to prove to the world that she truly is the “next big, epic fantasy writer of all time.”
Unfortunately for X, there’s a new TV show called Plight of Stars with a premise very like the idea that X is certain will help her Make It Big. But X has a plan: hire a Juju practitioner to wipe the existence of the show out of the consciousness of everyone who’s ever seen it—or even worked on it. Simple enough stuff.
Meanwhile, in Cradensburg, a mysterious carnival has come to town but no one’s been able to attend thanks to all the rains they’ve been experiencing. This also means that Tryxy the demon hasn’t met up with his angel friend at all as everyone knows angels are allergic to rain.
Perhaps X would do better if she moved on to a new idea—say, sitting down and actually doing some writing. But that doesn’t seem to have occurred to her yet.
Without further ado…
Subject: MARCHING AN ARMY IN THE RAIN
Dear Gladys,
As I wait for my new juju practitioner to return my email, there’s something else I’d need to talk to you about.
I’m writing to request provisions for my army. The rains have been long and plentiful, and my soldiers are up to their knees in the significant overflow. Just yesterday I took my army on a rucksack march down to the corner store and back and at least two of my soldiers were swept away and nearly sucked into a drainage tunnel. I had to drive all the way to Walmart to get a pool noodle to retrieve them!!!!
The news is grim, Galdsy. We are not going to make the long march to our local IRS office without better provisions than what we have.
Please send all your pool noodles right away!!!! My latest fantasy saga is on the line!!!!
xox,
Generally X
P.S. Originally, I was calling myself General X, but my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, says that it might be disrespected to real, actual generals and so I told him that I was just generally a general and we both agreed that it probably would be fine for people to just call me Generally X. After all, I am me at least 90% of the time!!!!
Subject: THE FUTURE IS WITHIN REACH
Dear Gladys,
So far, I’ve heard nothing from my new juju practitioner. I called her office and her sister Linda told me she’s on vacation at a llama farming retreat in Oshkosh, Wisconsin through Thursday. Until then, I am forced to stay on my current path!!
My troops have had a tough couple of days with their morale. First, they were disheartened when the shipment of pool noodles I had said were on the way never arrived. I told them not to worry, have a heart, Gladys ALWAYS DELIVERS!!!!
Then, the popcorn contribution we requested from Mr. Morgans also never came and we were forced to commence with our Regimental Movie Night making do with a can of ginger beer I found in the back of my pantry and some of the Cool Ranch Doritos Tryxy keeps in his secret stash. But don’t worry, I will replace them before he misses them!!!
Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re DYING to know how my writing is going. Unfortunately, I am in the middle of a war, Gladys. As you know, I created a nonprofit organization just last week to address the problems Plight of Stars has created for me and SO MANY other writers. I submitted all of the necessary paperwork and waited for them to give me my 501c3 number and you know what they said???? THEY SAID IT TAKES 6 to 9 MONTHS!!!!
I said, “That’s ridiculous. I took the time to fill in all those questions and you mean to tell me that you’re just going to put my papers on the shelf and not look at them for 6 to 9 months???”
And the person on the helpline said, “First of all, we don’t accept applications filled out in pink crayon. Secondly, is this like your first time interacting with the IRS. Ever???”
That kind of calloused dismissal of pink crayon grinds my gears, Gladys!!!! Now I have to fill it out all over again and in the stifling, repressive colors of blue or black!!!!
At first, I wasn’t going to build an army and march on them. But then I really didn’t have anything else to do and it turns out that there were a bunch of unemployed gnomes and libertarians from Brokenheap, NH that really like the idea of marching down to the IRS and weren’t really doing anything else either.
When I explained to them the awful trouble Plight of Stars has made for my writing career, one of them suggested that we all watch the show together so that we could get good and mad. ‘Cause if there’s one thing that can keep you excited about your decision to join the army, it’s getting good and mad!!!!
So that’s how Regimental Movie Night started. But really it’s more like Regimental Movie Hour. On Monday alone, we binge watched the entire first season of Plight of Stars TWICE.
After our rucksack march to the corner store to get more snacks went afoul, we decided to google fan theories about what caused the Blight and whether everyone agrees that the strange thing that happens to Elfthera when her eyes go black is caused by exposure to the blight and that caused a good deal of infighting.
By the fourth binge-watching, we had all switched our computer wall papers and phone lock screens to the image of Elfthera with the black Blight eyes. Then, I decided we had to do some real army activities so we marched on down to the town green and practiced bivouacking there.
There’s one thing that has become painfully clear: THIS SHOW IS AMAZING!!!!!! It’s the best thing I’ve ever watched and that tells me more than ever that my epic fantasy saga is going to be SOOOOO GOOOOOD so long as Linda isn’t leading me down the garden path regarding my juju person being back on Thursday.
By the way, Gladys, can you pop by the town green with your airhorns??? We were unexpectedly set upon by baers and had to retreat to the trees and now the baers have made a real mess of our tents and are sleeping down there and going to town on Tryxy’s Cool Ranch Doritos.
Also: bring more Cool Ranch Doritos. Once you clear the baers we’re planning a Plight of Stars Sing Along and Cosplay Sewing Session.
xox,
Generally X
sent from my iPhone in a tree
Subject: Further complications with the baers
Dear Gladys,
So I called my new juju practitioner’s sister Linda to ask her if my juju practitioner was back yet and she said, “I told you. She’s not due back until Thursday.”
And I said, “I was just checking in case she came home early.”
And she said, “People don’t come home from retreats early.”
So I said, “They do if they discover too late that someone has infiltrated the catering and replaced all of the food with rotten eggs.”
And she said, “HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?”
And I said, “I DON’T KNOW. IT WAS HYPOTHETICAL AND I’M CLAIRVOYANT.”
That’s when her phone became mysteriously disconnected. Must be all the rain!!!!!
Unforunately, the baers have drastically reduced my army’s numbers. Five or six of the gnomes said that they were only in this for the cool ranch doritos and now that we’ve resorted to eating pine cones, their intestines are responding adversely to all the fiber. Three of the libertarians are threatening to leave on the principle that they don’t like conforming to anything for too long and they already have day jobs working for the government.
But the biggest problem is the Plight of Stars withdrawal. We’ve been forced to comfort ourselves with reenacting our favorite scenes from the safety of the tree tops. It really is a wonderful show. This is the best idea I’ve ever had and I can’t wait to start writing it as soon as I obliterate the show from the memory of the World with the use of juju magic.
We also have Trivia Time where we ask each other pop questions like “what was the actress who played Elfthera’s first TV role?” (ANSWER: it was a pampers commercial.)
Sometimes we run out of things to talk about with Plight of Stars so I’ve taken to teaching my troops this thing I like to call Wild Crafting. It’s when we create pictures and sculptures of our favorite POS character using nothing but pine needles, pinecones, and sap. I made a picture of Elfthera. One of the gnomes actually created an entire model of the Starship Blightrunner and one of the libertarians made a cute little sign that read, “Taxation is Theft.”
Yes, it didn’t conform to the rules, but UNLIKE THE IRS, I ACCEPT CREATIVITY, GALSDY!!!!!
This is further complicated with the fact that the baers have started to bully my soldiers from below. The baers don’t like our trivia or sing alongs or scene recreation and have started growling at us and rearing back and head-butting the trees until we’re forced to let go of our arts and crafts and hang on for dear life!!!!!
Then, they ate all our pinecones!!!
None of this would have happened if it weren’t for Plight of Stars!!!!!
As soon as I get out of this tree I’m going to march right on down to my juju practitioner’s house and obliterate this show from the face of the planet!!!!!
xox,
Generally X
sent from my iPhone up a tree with a baer at the foot of it
Subject: ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Dear Gladys,
Well, my visit to my juju practitioner was an overwhelming success. As I predicted, the rotten eggs had her return home from her retreat a day early to find an entire battle-scarred gnome and liberatarian army resting from our toils among her llamas.
At first she looked very confused by our presence and then her sister Linda came out and whispered something about, “this is the lady I told you about” and then the juju practitioner got right to business. I told her I wanted “something something” COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY wiped from everyone’s minds. I even wrote it down in pink crayon. She got to work, right away!!!!
As far as I can tell, things have returned to working order and I can get back to writing that epic fantasy saga I was telling you about just as soon as you write back to me and remind me what it was supposed to be about.
Also, have you seen my pool noodle, tent, and pink crayons? They appear to be missing.
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
PRE-STOLEN IDEAS
Hello All! Melanie here.
Last week, writing homeostasis was achieved, and Writer X began working on an entirely new epic fantasy series! Her latest yet unfinished novel features elves in spaceships. [[[ NEW GENRE UNLOCKED ]]] This is an exciting development.
There’s just one problem: a new television show called Plight of Stars also happens to feature a spaceship-traveling elf whose adventuring party flies from planet to planet searching for survivors from a mysterious, planet-consuming force called The Blight.
Don’t you hate it when other people become famous for your idea just when you are getting started with it?
Tryxy continues to be secretive about what he’s up to, running around with angels, and the Traveling Carnival that’s come to Cradensburg is experiencing weather delays. Cradensburg seems to be getting as much rain as the New Hampshire of our reality. Well, slightly more.
The process of writing a single book is arduous and full of uncertainty. Thinking that you have an idea that is so original as to guarantee the book’s success can be a Dumbo’s Magic Feather approach that gets you through the draft.
But seeing other people with similar magic systems or technologies doesn’t have to slow you down. When I was a teen, I remember reading a book of writing advice, and someone said: “One idea doth not a novel make.” You can take a shared idea and make it a unique read thanks to various elements of fiction: plot, character, dialogue, setting, conflict, theme…and the list goes on.
OR…you can do what Writer X is doing.
Without further ado…
Subject: NON PROFIT CONTRIBUTIONS
Dear Gladys,
How are you holding up in the flooding rains???? I thought I saw your car float by in the currents outside Mr. Morgan’s Food Emporium and Things Nicely Priced, I waved and honked my horn but I don’t think you heard me.
In other great news, I think our little angel situation has completely dried up!!! Which is good, because my boyfriend and I were worried about an angel being a bad influence on Tryxy.
AFter my letter last week, I’m sure you are shaken to the core about the way some people can proactively steal my ideas before I really get the chance to think of it. But there is now something you can do to help bring an end to things like this.
I have started a small non-profit organization consisting of like minded individuals who are against Writers Stealing Other Writer’s Ideas Before They Get To Be Famous For Them First.
We’re called IAWSOWIBTGTBFFTF but please don’t say it out loud because I showed the name to Tryxy and he says he’s pretty sure that’s the name of a demon who, when summoned, either gives the summoner a kind of flesh-eating bacteria or irritable bowel syndrome, he couldn’t remember which.
Our membership is set to DOUBLE as soon as you join. There’s a lot of work to be done to stop this nefarious activity that is thwarting up-and-coming writers’ careers so don’t delay in signing up!!!
This week, I’ve done LOADS of research on this little known epidemic. For example, did you know that Strider from LOTR had his name STOLEN FROM A HORSE?????? I’m as big a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien as the next person, but you’d think that since he’s invented a genre and achieved immortality and now has lived for the last 50 or so years at a very nice fishing cottage in Moseley Bog, he could have at least sent the horse a thank you card!!!
Oh, it doesn’t stop there. I have to be careful, Gladys, or I may rob you of all your heroes. But did you know that in THE DRAGONBONE CHAIR, Tad Williams STOLE THE IDEA of a red headed hero from a boy he went to Junior High with? STOLE THE VERY RED OFF HIS HEAD. That’s not all. By the end of the trilogy, a perfectly good junior high schooler was rendered COMPLETELY BALD by MEMORY, SORROW, AND THORN.
As president of IAWSOWIBTGTBFFTF, I have take the liberty of writing to Mr. Tad Williams about this very infraction with the following demands.
1.) That he give his former classmate his hair back
2.) That he signs all my dogeared copies of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn and goes on an extended all-expenses-paid vacation with me to Moseley Bog. HE’S MY HALL PASS, GALDSY!!!!
Look. Look at this face. Can you believe those dreamy eyes are the ones that conceived To Green Angel Tower????????
Remember that time in high school when I carried around all of his books in my bookbag for three or four years???? Fortunately that chiropractor in Bleakwood was able to correct the damage or else the sciatica would have completely ended my hobby of competitive hot air ballooning.
GLADYS!!!!!!! I just noticed. Tad Williams is BALD!!!! Do you think he shaved all his hair off because he secretly felt guilty for STEALING THE HAIR OFF SOMEONE ELSE’S HEAD?????
This only makes me love him more. You know I’m a sucker for an anti-hero!!!! He reminds me of my other hall pass: award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins!!!!!
But it gets WORSE. Gladys, I’m not sure you’re going to recover from what I’m about to tell you. This might be too much.
STEPHANIE MEYER, THE CREATOR OF TWILIGHT, stole the whole scene where Bella and Ewadiddle get married and have sex on the beach????? It’s true.
Now, I know I told you that I was going to hire a Juju person to fix this whole thing, but with all the floods, the local carnival has been on pause. But that’s okay because my work with IAWSOWWIBBTGTBFFFFFTF has given me LOTS to do!!!!
Gladys, do you think you could build me a website??
I also have taken the initiative of writing a letter to Congress to inform them of this awful epidemic affecting writers and junior high schoolers everywhere. I haven’t finished it yet. The first fourteen pages simply detail the STRUGGLE I’ve experienced as a writer as a result of PLIGHT OF STARS.
Whatever you do Gladys, DON’T WATCH PLIGHT OF STARS. THis is BARELY safe for me to do!!! You can’t have both of us sending their ratings through the roof!!!
In fact, I’m so busy gathering information on all the ideas Plight of Stars has PRE-STOLEN from me, that I need you to pause in building that website and come and take me to my gastroenterology appointment. I accidentally said IAWSOWIBTGTBFFTF out loud three times and now the cheese pizza I inhaled is OUT TO KILL ME!!!!!
Paddle over!!! I’ll wait on my roof for you to pick me up!!!!
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
SPACE ELVES
Hello All! Melanie here.
When last we left our heroes, Writer X and her boyfriend, fellow fantasy writer Tod, were reunited following a month long mishap that involved gnomes, a brain-stunning device, and a general failure to ask people questions.
While this has resolved nicely with the appropriate people returning to their appropriate cocoons of romantic contentedness, new mysteries gather on the horizon. Tryxy—a demon—has been tiptoeing around with angels—specifically one angel—nursing a secret that he’s afraid X will uncover before he can find the words to break it to her.
With X and Tod back together and discussions of moving in underway, I wonder what writing plans X is formulating. The road of every writer is different from the next, but if one is to be the “next big epic fantasy writer of all time,” you do have to actually write something now and then.
This brings to mind something the former editor of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, C.C. Finlay, once told me. He said: “The apprenticeship for becoming a writer is such a long and difficult one…it can be frequently interrupted by other aspects of life.”
I wonder if Charlie would include a mysterious angel and a traveling carnival in that list of “other aspects.”
Without further ado…
Subject: SOMETHING NEW!!!!
Dear Gladys,
I found another one of those angel feathers. This time it wasn’t in my backyard, it was in the MUDROOM. Do you think an angel has been breaking into my house??? Or is it possibly just using it as a shortcut??? So far I haven’t heard any word of complaint from Tryxy, but if this keeps up, I’m going to have to call an exterminator. Once you get a case of the angels, they get into EVERYTHING.
Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Things are going WONDERFFULLY. First, we got satellite television. But also, my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, has been spending several nights a week at our humble abode here with Tryxy, #bestkitten, and me. And the malevolent purple leopard. Seeing as he owns his home and isn’t quite ready to sell it, we’re splitting our time between the two houses. This means I’ve written at least three days this week and the pages I’m about to send you are going to BLOW. YOU. AWAY.
This is LIKE NOTHING ELSE I”VE WRITTEN GLADYS!!!!
I am in the very early stages of writing AN ENTIRELY NEW EPIC FANTASY SAGA. This one is special, I can feel it in my writerly bones!!!! This NEW epic fantasy saga is going to be the one that establishes me as the next big epic fantasy writer of all time.
Now Gladys, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking HOW could I possibly publish this new saga before I publish my epic fantasy saga led by my AMAZING character Fenchin in search of the Humingdaal? But I won a flash fiction contest, I’m a PRO, and I think about things very differently than you or someone else might think.
I’m COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE with getting paid millions of dollars for this epic fantasy saga before I get paid millions of dollars for my masterpiece. Each of my sagas will reveal a DIFFERENT aspect of my writerly brilliance.
THe Fenchin story will have EVERYTHING—love, betrayal, adventure, magic, and square-dancing orcs. But this NEW saga has SUCH an original idea that it’s going to quickly establish me as a groundbreaking fantasy writer that creates something EXTREMELY NEW!!!!
If you’re a new writer, it’s helpful to attract new readers by doing something they’ve NEVER seen before, and while some fantasy writers out here plunder through other people’s cultures for unique material, SOME OF US ARE NATURALS AT NEWNESS!!!!!
Because you are my biggest fan, I feel I should prepare you for the pages I will send you at some point next week. You are going to be KNOCKED OFF YOUR FEET with the power of this new FANTASY IDEA!!!!!
Are you ready??
This story has—hang on, Gladys, I have to check and make sure no one’s looking over my shoulder.
This story has…SPACE. ELVES.
Right now, fantasy is experiencing a revival. People are making fantasy movies every which way, but you know what NO ONE is doing???? SPACESHIPS!!!! That’s why this is going to be such a hit!!!!
Anyhoo, I have to go. I’m waiting on a call from my life coach and then my boyfriend and I are going to binge watch the SCI-PHY channel!!!!!
xox,
X
P.S. Btw, (that means “by the way” Gladys) did you see the carnival is coming to town??? They’re still setting it up in the parking lot of that haunted Spirit of Halloween store, but I could’ve sworn I saw them erecting a Tilt-a-Hurl!!!! I can’t wait to bring Tryxy to the carnival!!!!!!
Subject: COUPON BOOK!!!!!
Dear Gladys,
Whatever you are up to, I need you to STOP EVERYTHING, come over here, and help me find my Cradensburg Big Book of Savings. Nothing less than my ENTIRE WRITING CAREER is on the line!!!! AND CANCEL YOUR SUBSCRIPTION TO THE SCI-PHY CHANNEL ASAP!!!!!
Just when I’m ready to take the fantasy world by STORM, people have to come along and steal my ideas before I’m even finished with them!!!!!
Have you seen the new Sci-Phy show “Plight of Stars????” Well, some writer had the nerve to have a spaceship traveling between planets that have been consumed by a mysterious force called “The Blight” looking for survivors. They have a captain, a meat shield, a thief, AND AN ELF on the ship. AND THE ELF IS A MAGIC USER!!!!!
MY ELVES ARE MAGIC USERS!!!! Who is going to read my crummy story when they already have ELVES IN SPACE SHIPS????
I’m very upset Galdsy!!!! My boyfriend says that it’s hard when you think yuou’re writing something original and then you see that hollywood has already beat you to the punch but I’m not going to take this lying down!!!!!
There’s only one thing that can fix this and that’s THE CRADENSBURG BIG BOOK OF SAVINGS!!!!! I could have sworn—
Hang on, Gladys, an angel just flew past my window. Nahhhh, maybe it was a duck.
Anyhoo, what was I saying??? If I don’t stop people from putting elves in spaceships, other people will be famous for MY ideas and I won’t be considered groundbreaking at all!!! I talked to my life coach and there is only ONE THING that can be done to address this situation and that is some good ole juju. I need to make the Sci-Phy writer completely change the show!!!!! Why can’t they just stick to plundering someone else’s culture for material????
Good thing that the carnival has come to town!!!! There’s always a good Juju person at the carnvia—
Hang on, Gladys, I think an angel just tried to throw a baseball through my window and cracked my siding instead!!!! I need to find my nailbat. I can only hope I cleaned off the feathers from the last angel that tried to chuck a baseball through my window!!!!
Do you have an extra copy of that coupon book laying around??? I think I lost mine when I threw it at the mailman. Wasn’t there a coupon for 25% off juju??? Or am I misremembering???
Got my nailbat!!!
xox,
X
Subject: FOUND IT!!!!
Dear Gladys,
Well that angel gave me the slip, but it definitely left a dent in my siding!!! I called my boyfriend and he said that maybe I should think about calling an exterminator. Do you know a good angel exterminator??? Didn’t your cousin Maude used to have something to do with angel extermination after the whole “Angel of the Lord” incident?
Anyhoo, things with my story are back on track!!!! I looked online and found that coupon and it’s for 40% off. Which is comforting because juju can be expensive!!! It’s a good thing I can do a solid Jamaican accent!!!!
Would you mind printing this out for me? My printer has a lil’ nailbat dent in it.
Off to the carnival next week, Gladys! Tomorrow, the stars!!!!!
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
THE QUESTION AT LAST
Hello All, Melanie here.
Last week Writer X sent us a brief email with a special menu for writers from the Cradensburg restaurant Fish! Fish! Fish! Usually, she discloses much more about her latest plans to take over the fantasy writing world by (not) writing the next big epic fantasy saga of all time.
I was surprised at the short length.
X had other things on her mind, however. She had secured a brainwashing device and was on her way to meet fantasy writer and ex-boyfriend Tod Boadkins for dinner so that she could:
1.) Use this device to repair damage from a renegade gnome who’d stunned Tod with it, and
2.) Win Tod back while getting him to move in with her.
After all, when Tod is around, X is in the mood to write more, and that’s the ultimate aphrodisiac for a writer like Writer X, I’d think.
We might have heard from her if the dinner went well, but I didn’t overthink it when we didn’t. Turns out, when you set a person like X loose with a brainwashing device in a restaurant like Fish! Fish! Fish! Expect…delays.
Without further ado…
Subject: A Romantic!!! Dinner! at F!ish Fi!sh Fis!h
Dear! Gladys,
I know I told you last week that I was heading! to see my ex boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins but that brain!washing device I gnicked off the gnomes is a piiiiinchhh touchier than I was expecting. Needless to say, my dinner date at Fish! Fsi!h F!ish was delayed because I accidentally got myself a few times. But I’ve! pretty much gotten over it without side!effects.
Speaking of the device, I wouldn’t really call it a brainwashing device so much as a brai!n stunning device. One misplaced flash from the blasted thing and you!re waking up on the roof of Mr. Morgan’s Food Emporium wearing a mysterious set of flip flops and a handcuff hanging from your left ear. THE!Y ShOULD FIX! IT WITH A WARNING! LABEL!!
Not to worry though whether brain washing or brain stunning, I’ve now got everything I! need for a romantic! dinner! at! Fish!
Fishfish!!
That reminds me, Gladys, I keep meaning to ask you if you’ve seen any angels around because I keep finding angel feathers in my backyard.
I just got an idea!!!!!
Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going and I’ll tell you just as soon as I try my latest idea to fix the hairtrigger on this brainstunning thing.
x!ox,
X!
Subject: A Ro!mantic! D!inner! at F!!ish !Fi!sh !Fis!h
Dear! Gladys!!,
I know I told you last week that I was! heading to see my ex boyfriend, award-nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins but that! brainwash!ing device I gnicked! off the gnomes is a haaaaaaiiiiiiiirrrrrrr touchier than I! was expecting. Needless to say, my dinner date at Fish! Fish! !Foosh was delayed because I accidentally! got myself a few times. But I’ve! pretty much gotten over it without!!! sideeffects.
Speaking! of the device, I wouldn’t really call! it a brainwashing device so much as a !!!!brain stunning device. One misplaced! flash from the stupid thing and you’re waking up in the men’s rest!room of the Stuff! Someone Threw Away Boutique covered in vaseline! with an empty bottle of handsanitizer! and a bendy straw. THEY SHOULD FiX IT WITH! A WARNING!!!! LABEL.
Btw, have I mentioned the angel feathers I keep finding! in my backyard???!? Don’t think I have!.
Anyhoo, I’m sure! you’re dying to know how my writing is going but I can’t tell you! because I’m on my way to a slightly more postponed dinner date! with my exboyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod!! Boadkins. I need to get to the! restaurant before he does so I can set up this! device without! him seeing it!!!!
x!ox,
X
P.S!!!. Can I borrow your angel harpoon?? I’m worried whatever angel hanging! by my house will harass! Tryxy so I want to gnip! this problem in the bud!
Subject: It’s! a Qwonderful night
Dear Gladys!,
I have to tell you all about my night with my boyfriend award! nominated fantasy wrtier Tod Boadkins. Things got off to a rocky start.
First, I found the perfect place to set up my brainstunning device! so that I wouldn’t! accidentally blast myself to next Tuesday when! I took it out of my purse. Like I did last Tuesday. You know the little elevated table! next to the water feature and the giant tentacled beast they just got? PERFECT!! You get a view of all the tables, at least 9 of the 37 thrashing tentacles of the beast, it’s romantic! Not to mention there’s all the ficus plants which served as the perfect prop for my brain! device.
All I did was unplug a little ultrasonic instrument by the giant tentacled beast tank because the cord was in the way of the ficus I need and the manager threw a fit!!! She raged! about me unplugging the ultrasonic doo-hickey and told me the elevated table was reserved for a restaurant critic that night. In a happy accident, she unwittingly hoisted the ficus that the brain washing device was balanced on and POOF!!, my boyfriend and I had the perfect view and there wasn’t any more talk about that silly ultrasonic!!! thingy.
The second hiccup was when my exboyfriend-now boyfriend again award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins walked in. He was happy enough to see me but you know I’m a VERY perceptive person Galdsy and I could tell right away that he was acting guilty and sheepish and that he’d been sleeping on microfiber! sheets instead of Cotton!! I almost blasted his brain to blinkers right then and there, but! something told me to stay my hand.
Of course he was stunned! by how shiny my skin was from all that vaseline but that admiration was cut short when the giant tentacled beast started acting up. First it seemed more “thrashy” than usual, then it got more “toothy”, and the next thing you know it had broken through its mesh tank cap and seized a server by the waist. Next thing, it hung her by the suspenders on the chandelier. It was hard! to focus on all the nice things my boyfriend was saying to me about myself but I managed.
Apparently he’s been doing a lot of thinking about himself, his attitudes to relationships, his writing, and our relationship. He confessed that writing his first fantasy novel Broken Tides was part of his therapy after his ex wife left him for a Peruvian lion tamer.
I told him that I understood completely because when my lover C___ was pretty much killed due to his involvement! with Brian and The Society, I healed my broken heart by becoming the next big epic fantasy writer of all time and writing my nine book epic fantasy saga. He gave me this blinky squint and said, “Did you ever finish writing the first book?” and I growled, “That’s not the point.” And he stammered, “Of course not.” And then the giant tentacled beast slithered three black tentacles across fifteen feet of floor and started dragging itself and its WHOLE TANK toward an aquarium of terrified lobsters.
Oddly enough, that’s when a quaking server sat an angel at a table near ours and I started thinking deep thoughts about harpoons. I won’t! let an angel pick on our Tryxy! You have to watch the neighborhood or everything goes downhill fast!!! I live on a hill!!! I should know!!!
What was I saying??!? Right. I felt like my boyfriend was taking too long to get to apologizing and moving in with me so I stuck out my foot to give the ficus a shake and set off the brain blaster. But when I wiggled my toes, the plant! wasn’t there anymore!!!! It had been tipped over by the giant tentacled beast. The brainwashing device was now angled at the server who had seated the angel.
Anyhoo, that’s when my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, explained that he’s been talking to his litraumatologist about how he developed Second Book Syndrome in the first place. Apparently, he had developed a superstitious belief that he could only write well when he was single and, while he didn’t want to break! up with me, he subconsciously neglected things for a few months because he was afraid his second book wouldn’t be as good as his first.
I needed him to repeat this because there was a blinding flash of light and the server by the angel went thump. Flat out on the floor!! Of course I barely had time to notice this because four more of the giant tentacled beast’s tentacles slithered out of the tank and in our direction so we had to hide under the table for a little while.
I was really wondering when award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins would get to the point. He’s usually so concise but it seemed like he was taking the long way round his explanation and it was getting much harder to hear him with all the screaming. It’s usually so atmospheric at Fis!h fiSh1 Fish!, I wonder! what happened???
That’s when my boyfriend blurted that after I took care of him for all those weeks he recovered from Second Book Syndrome, he realized that—for complicated! reasons—he had been a negligent boyfriend, some of it was fear of rejection, but there was no excuse.
“I know,” I said. “For a little while there, I forgot I had a boyfriend.”
He looked horrible in the shadows there beneath the table. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
He said, “Oh…oh. I’m glad you’re not done with me. Well, do you think they’re ready to take our drink order?”
As we climbed out from beneath the table, I dodged a bucket of melted butter flying over our heads and studied the drinks menu.
“I’m really glad you’ve apologized. I was hurt because Tryxy and I went through the trouble of having the house renovated so that you could move in and the next thing I know you’ve left with a note about all good things must end and you wouldn’t return my calls. If I didn’t know you so well I could have mistaken you for breaking up with me!!!”
The manager shrieked, dragging herself on all fours up to our private mezzanine. Tentacles slithered and slapped around her but she was desperately focused on the wall behind the ficuses.
My boyfriend noticed! none of this. He stared at me, his mouth hanging open. “You want me to move in with you?”
The manager stretched out quivering fingers and clasped the unplugged ultrasonic device, groaning incomprehensible words of joy and relief.
“Of course!” I said. “Didn’t I ask?”
Just as the manager approached the wall outlet, ten black tentacles came crashing down. They whipped away the ultrasonic device and flung three or four ficuses in the air. I looked up at the mirrored ceiling of Fish! Fis!h Figgle and spied my brain stunning device spinning in the reflection high above. I also thought I saw Tryxy sitting at the table with the angel but that had to be a side effect because that’s just silly.
“No,” was the last thing I heard my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins say. Then there was a blinding flash and my boyfriend and I woke up in the local drunk tank smelling of seawater and butter, but that didn’t matter because we have eachother.
And this fine for disturbing the peace for some reason.
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
A MENU FOR SFF WRITERS (YES, STILL BEGGING THE QUESTION)
Hello All! Melanie here.
Writer X has been working hard these last few weeks at a rather innovative way of meeting her writing goals. Writer X believed that her boyfriend Tod had broken up with her in what appears to be a series of miscommunications and gnome-involved accidents.
She’s been determined to win him back—not only does she love him, but X has also discovered that when he’s around, she feels like writing. And yet when Tod emailed her asking her to meet him for dinner at Fish! Fish! Fish!, the restaurant they visited on their first date, X postponed her date to pursue a brainwashing device to blast her boyfriend’s brains back into their original condition.
Somewhere in there, she was kidnapped. All of this is part of a grand plan to write more while not writing at all. There are many ways to reach your writing goals. Apparently, X prefers to distract her goals, bludgeon them with a billy club to creep up on them while they reel from the shock.
Without further ado…
Subject: NEW MENU!!!!
Dear Gladys,
I’m just getting ready for my dinner at Fish! Fish! Fish! with my ex-boyfriend, award-nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins. Did you see the new menu there? They just posted it online. Sharing it because I know how much you like barracuda and Kurt Vonnegut!!!
I wonder what dish they would recommend for the next big epic fantasy writer of all time??
Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Well you’ll find out next week!!!
xox,
X
P.S. I have taken care of the gnome situation. Sort of.
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
BUY THIS AND ALL YOUR WRITING DREAMS CAN COME TRUE(BEGGING THE QUESTION PT. 3)
Hello All! Melanie here.
Are you familiar with the theory of relativity? More specifically, the Writer X theory of relativity? If not, here’s a summary: everything in the universe conspires to keep Writer X from writing her epic fantasy saga.
To be fair, X had a lot of things on her plate last week that were only partially writing-related. First, her writer boyfriend appears to have dumped her—or at the very least, ghosted her, which has thrown a wrench in X’s plans as she finds that having him around puts her in the mood to write more.
But it would seem that X’s hare-brained take on a universal conspiracy holds some water. When X abducted the gnome that abducted Tod Boadkins’ mobile phone, X discovered that her boyfriend had been brainwashed by a unique brainwashing device used by a Gnome Crime Ring that goes around pimping people’s houses in Cradensburg and furnishing those houses with stolen goods.
Although, I’m confident they consider themselves a legitimate Multilevel Marketing Operation.
I’m sure that Writer X would have gotten to the bottom of this all and gone out to dinner with Tod if it hadn’t been that she’s also been abducted. We also learned that nothing breaks the soul like chicken marsala Lean Cuisine!
Meanwhile, in Cradensburg, we’re starting to get a firsthand peek into that Mysterious Complex. I wonder if it’s a cult.
Without further ado…
Subject: Special Offer from Pimp My House Sales Associate #3472Xxxxxx
Dear Gladys,
Do your shutters have enough bling to blind your neighborhood three streets deep? Does your fireplace also double as a subwoofer? If not, have I got an offer for you!
(Never mind the scripted pitch Gladys. It’s obligatory, they screen my emails! Psss, it’s X!
Hang on, Gladys, my supervisor is making his rounds. BRB!!! (That means “be right back”!))
Perhaps you’re content with the creaky cabinet doors in your kitchen. When were those installed? In 1962? Do you suffer from 15 layers of yellowed, sticky contact paper lining the bottom of your silverware drawer? Who put this stuff in, anyway? Surely not you! You’re stylish!
Which is why you should be the first on your block to sport our cutaway, fish tank cabinet doors complete with real fish tanks, tropical-themed aquatic decorations, and goldfish with Jamaican accents!
(I would have sent you an email without the pitch, but things have gotten especially harried here in the House Pimping call center, what with them catching those Herbalife spies last night!!!!!)
You work hard. Why soak your sore dogs in a run-of-the-mill, ceramic lined tub when you get home? You deserve the creature comforts of a deluxe jacuzzi completely with 42 heated jets, a champagne dispenser, and three submersible fondue pots!
(Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Right now I am on the verge of one of the biggest writing opportunities of my ENTIRE life!!!! It’s all about to happen, Gladys!!! The mansion in Scotland, vacationing in hobbit homes in New Zealand, the cheetos dipped in caviar!! I am about to be a HOUSEHOLD NAME!!!!
Just as soon as I break free of this gnome prison call center, grab that brainwashing device, and meet with my exboyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins!
Whoops! Here comes the supervisor again.)
You’ve heard of spinning rims, but have you ever heard of spinning gutters? Don’t sleep on the latest trend in pimped-out home improvement. Your state-of-the-art spinning gutters will be the envy of all the houses in your neighborhood. Plus, they clean themselves by hurling leaf debris into your neighbor’s backyard! Imagine the savings, not just on your wallet, but in back-breaking labor! What will you do with all your free time?
I’ll tell you what you can do with your newfound free time! You can enjoy it in your exclusive home car theater.
(Sorry Gladys, took me a little longer to get back to this!!! I had to step out and attend an energy-filled Name & Claim session!! It’s a little team-building exercise we do every few hours to make customer care specialists more focused on our goals.
This afternoon, I’m more pumped than ever!!! It’s not every day you break into FILM WRITING!!!! That’s what I “named and claimed” my life as a famous writer of blockbuster fantasy films!!! I inspired my whole team, too! All the gnomes are really excited. They can’t wait to sell house pimping to the Hollywood Moguls my career will bring them into contact with!!!!
Let me catch you up. As you know, when last we spoke I was gathering my jar of nickels and spelunking equipment to hunt down the brainwashing device those gnomes used on my exboyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins. This of course led me to go caverning through that great big hole that runs under the gates of the Mysterious Complex.
That great big hole led me up and into a darkened warehouse. At first I wandered around aimlessly shaking my jar of nickels to lure out any hiding gnomes. But then I found myself outside of a strange door with a strange, and hauntingly familiar sign.
The sign read:
MANAHEE MOTION PICTURES
PROP DEPARTMENT
Was it a clue??? I couldn’t know, so I shook my jar of nickels and went inside.
The prop department was also dark and sparsely stocked. Not a very impressive prop department if you ask me!!! The least they could have is a water fountain with a statue of Lil’ Nas X, or even a basic interrogation lamp!!! However, it had a cat walk that ran along the top of one wall. Voices came from the direction of the catwalk.
I climbed the stairs to get closer to them and that’s when I got the WRITING BREAK OF A LIFETIME. I truly am destined to be the next big epic fantasy writer of all time!!!!!
Let me tell you what I heard right after this message from my captors.)
What’s a “home car theater,” you ask? Let’s paint the picture for you.
When you’re seated in your home theater getting a tan from your HD LED widescreen cineplex television, what’s missing from the theater experience? You’ve got it! SEATS THAT TRAP YOU WHEN YOU GET UP FOR A POPCORN RUN.
But who would want to install those gum ridden clam shell seats when you can have an equally ensnaring experience clambering up and out of a BUCKET SEAT installed three inches above the floor?
Right now, for a limited time, we’re offering you a special: pimp your house today and our gnomes will install a full complement of AUTHENTIC bucket seats ripped out of Chryslers we found laying around.
But that’s not all!
(Okay, I’m back, Gladys. And I think I’m one step closer to stealing that brainwashing device and breaking out of here!!!! While I was pasting in my sales script, I overheard two gnomes in the next cubicle whispering about a POTENTIAL INVASION BY BEACHBODY!!!!! Apparently with the delicate balance of the gnome MLM juggling world being disrupted, all of the biggest Multilevel Marketing Corporations are anxious to sink their teeth into fresh meat.
I even spotted a Mary Kay Beauty Consultant wandering around here offering complementary facials!!! You know it’s getting real when someone whips out the moisturizer!!!
Combine that with Herbalife associates infiltrating the premises last night and cyphoning off house pimping gnomes to join them as “distributors” and it’s going to be pandemonium any minute!!!!
Anyhoo, where was I? I was hearing voices!!! And you know what it was???
Gladys… it was the owner of the Mysterious Complex meeting with her marketing and business managers. They were talking about the giant hole someone had dug under their gates and into their prop department. Apparently these burglars ran off with several hundred thousand dollars worth of movie props!!!
That’s when I stopped shaking my jar of nickels and pressed my ear to the door…)
Perhaps you’ve heard about the bidet craze sweeping the nation? Maybe your neighbor has whisked down to Home Depot to install a bidet attachment on her toilet. Why keep up with the Jones’s when you can out clAss them altogether?
Tell [SALES ASSOCIATE #3472XXXXXXX] that you’re ready to PIMP YOUR HOUSE now and we’ll throw in a free chrome plated bidet. For a limited time, we’re also offering a seltzer attachment. Sure, your neighbor’s toilet offers a cleansing stream of water with each use, but yours will offer a cleansing stream of BUBBLY water, ensuring the most awakening, surprising experience you can get before your 6 o’clock commute to Boston every morning. And we guarantee that, or your seltzer’s on us!
(Gladys, what I’m about to tell you has changed EVERYTHING!!!
The board at the Mysterious Complex agreed that they had to take an aggressive approach to winning the hearts and minds of Cradensburg so that they can “fulfill their core mission.”
They’re going to host a local film festival and launch a short film WRITTEN BY A LOCAL CRADENSBURG WRITER!!!!!
THIS IS MY OPPORTUNITY, GADLSY!!!!
All I need to do is sell 56 more house pimping packages and I’ll be promoted to double ruby. From there, I’ll be invited to a special inspiration brunch in the C-Suite of the operation where I’ll pass by the office of “the Big Guy.” If my information from Lil’ gnomey is right, the brainwashing device is in an old KFC bucket in that office!!!
And while I’ve never written a film script in my entire life, I’m sure my first attempt will be worthy of PETER JACKSON!!!!
Things are all working according to plan!!!! Except for the bit where the gnomes all popped out of holes they’d dug in the ground and threw me and my jar of nickels in a burlap sack and dragged me to Orientation. Small hiccup. But I make LEMONADE!!!!
Speaking of plans, this is where you come in Gladys. I’ve NAMED AND CLAIMED my sales goals and I’m more driven than ever. This is why I’m writing to you to invite you to take up this amazing opportunity!!!!)
With a simple reply of “I’m in,” your sales associate [SALES ASSOCIATE #3472XXXXXXX] will get you connected to a highly skilled team of gnomes who will expand your house beyond your wildest dreams.
We’re going to offer this package to you at a fraction of the price that it’s worth. But if you’d like savings with a side of dream career, you can save even more by joining our sales associate team. That way you can connect people to their blinged out chimney flashing today, and your financial freedom tomorrow!
Don’t wait to act on this. After all, tomorrow’s just a dream away.
xox,
[SALES ASSOCIATE #3472XXXXXXX]
P.S. Can you email my exboyfriend for me please and let him know I may be late to our dinner date at Fish! Fish! Fish!? Also, can you ask him if he’s satisfied with his current kitchen cabinets? He could be your first downline, Galdys!!!
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
GNOME CRIME RING (BEGGING THE QUESTION PT. 2)
Hello All! Melanie here.
When your favorite writer kills off a beloved character, it’s hard to believe that writers have hearts. But at least 47% do!
Things were sobering last week in the writer-heart department. When last we left our heroes, Writer X had been anticipating a week full of writing with promises to send us fresh pages. Her boyfriend would be moving into her much expanded (and half-stolen) house, and she and Tryxy were looking forward to it.
That was…until Tod Boadkins left a note stating, “All good things must end.”
X was plunged into the bewilderment of a break-up. All things considered, she handled things maturely. She texted Tod a mere 147 times in the course of an evening, and comforted herself the way so many of us do: with some light stalking.
Two days later, Tod hadn’t answered her calls or sent an explanatory email. Nor did he show up at the bi-weekly meeting of their writing critique group.
For comfort, X took an evening walk in the town green. There, she ran into a suspicious looking gnome carrying Tod’s phone.
Meanwhile in Cradensburg, we haven’t had updates on the recent break-in at the Mysterious Complex, only that the giant hole tunneled beneath its equally mysterious gates hasn’t been filled.
Will this gnome phone-carrying put new light on X’s love situation? Will X write anything in her epic fantasy saga? I wonder if the Mysterious Complex is still looking for its missing furniture.
Without further ado…
Fw: Can we talk?
Dear Gladys,
DON’T TELL TRYXY I SENT YOU THIS!!!!
xox,
X
Begin forwarded message:
From: Tod Boadkins Date: May 24, 2023 at 4:43 pm To: Writer X Subject: Can we talk?
X,
How about meeting me for dinner at Fish! Fish! Fish!?
Friday?
TB
Subject: The Great Gnome Gang Lord in the Sky
Dear Gladys,
When your ex-boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, suddenly decides he doesn’t want you anymore, you can either go through a very hard time or you can kidnap a few gnomes and inject your life with meaning!!
It all started when I was knee deep in a box of Kill Your Capillaries Cabernet, writing an eighty-eight page email to my exboyfriend to give him a piece of my mind. Leaving me after I nursed him back to health??? I’m gonna have to unpack ALL my adjectives to describe a person like that!!!!
That’s when Tryxy and #bestkitten staged an intervention and took away my adjective suitcase. You see, apparently all this pain I’ve been going through will be over in exactly three weeks. It’s true, Tryxy showed me an article about it online and the internet NEVER lies.
All you have to do is keep yourself from having any contact with your ex for three weeks and it all goes away!! No phone calls, no emails, no text messages, and you have to cut your spying activities by at least half.
Actually, the article didn’t mention spying but Tryxy thought half was a good palce to start. This is why I need you to not mention the email I sent you to Tryxy!!!! He’s been keeping me accountable!!!!! But I didn’t contact my exboyfriend, HE contacted ME. But I’m not sure what the internet rules are for that, so let’s just keep this secret to be safe.
Since I had three weeks to burn, I took up a new hobby: getting to the bottom of the theory of relativity. Only I’m not calling it relativity. I’m calling it the Great Gnome Conspiracy!!!!! This is an explanation of all of life as we know it.
My eyes have been opened Gladys!!!!!! Look at the world around you!!! Nothing is as it seems!!!!! It may be hard to believe, but everything around you—and I mean EVERYTHING is trying to keep me from writing!!!! It’s all part of the grand conspiracy.
This is why the gnomes have brainwashed my exboyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins. They know that if he moved in with me, I WOULD WRITE MORE!!!! They don’t want me writing because, if he moved in, I WOULD WRITE MORE. This is the only explanation, Gladys and I need you to sit down, because when I tell you what I’ve learned, it will ROCK. YOUR. WORLD!!!!!!!
As you know, while gazing into the great big hole outside the Mysterious Complex, I came into possession of a gnome in possession of my exboyfriend’s iPhone. At first it wasn’t so obvious what I should do with this gnome, so I tied him up and put him by a jar of nickels I keep in my writing closet. Occasionally I took him out to binge-watch episodes of the first season of True Blood together (IT’S THE BEST SEASON, GLADYS!!!!!)
After Tryxy and #bestkitten’s intervention, I knew what I should do with the gnome!!!!! I should INTERROGATE him!!!! Fortunately, in an act of prescient interior design, the gnomes built an interrogation room under the umbrella room when they pimped my house!!!! So I placed lil’ gnomey (that’s what I call him) in the interrogation room.
I swiveled a big light on him. His pupils shriveled to the size of microchips. It’s a pretty good interrogation light. Long, bendable arm, megawatt bulb, white aluminum lamp shade, a label that says “PROPERTY OF MANAHEE MOTION PICTURES PROP DEPARTMENT” on the base. You know, standard features.
Immediately lil’ gnomey burst out, “I won’t do it!!! You can’t make me talk, Writer X!!!! You can tickle me all you want, but you’ll not get a word outta me!!!! I’m way more scared of the Big Guy, than I am of you!!!!!”
“Who is this big guy and why did you have my boyfriend’s phone????”
But that gnome wouldn’t budge!! I tried everything to get him to crack, Galdsy, I tried feather dusters and random disco attacks. I even tried waterbedding but the waterbed sprung a leak and now I need to call a carpenter to fix the damage. I was completely out of ideas so we took a break and watched the second season of True Blood and lil’ gnomey and I agreed that the cult plot line was abandoned too soon.
I sat there, missing my boyfriend and wanting to call him to see if he also agreed that the cult plotline of season two of True Blood was underdeveloped but then I remembered my promise to Tryxy and then I also remembered that lil’ gnomey was in possession of my exboyfriend’s phone.
BACK TO WORK!!!! I tied lil’ gnomey back up and fixed him with the inquisitional lighting.
“I still won’t do it!!!! The Big Guy is not to be trifled with!!! You can’t make me talk!!! Not even with a Lean Cuisine could you get me to talk!!!”
I was starting to get into this gnome’s head. I promptly went to my freezer, pulled out a Lean Cuisine chicken marsala with its freeze dried noodles and congealed sauce and microwaved it within an inch of its life!!!!! Lil’ gnomey wept as he ate it. Then he complained that it was still frozen in the middle but I wasn’t going to get sentimental!!!
“You’ll eat every lick of that low-calorie atrocity, or you’ll talk!!! It’s one or the other, lil’ gnomey.”
After the Lean Cuisine, I could see that I had broken his spirits. What you may not have learned in your lifetime at the CIA, Gladys, is what a good interrogator must do. A good interrogator has to get their subject to TALK!!!!! But it’s easy does it or else you can send your subject into a low-calorie stupor.
I eased in with some unsalted rice cakes. Lil’ gnomey gagged and asked if he could wash it down with some water. I’m not a complete animal, Gladys; I offered him a calorie-free, fruit punch flavored Crystal lite.
“Not the fruit-punch flavor!!! That tastes like a chemical burn!!!!” he cried, but nonetheless he choked down the plain rice cake and the liquid that definitely didn’t taste like fruit punch.
When I whipped out a tub of plain greek yogurt to spoon onto a baked sweet potato, lil’ gnomey CRACKED!!!!!
It all came out, Gladys!!!!
His role in the Grand Conspiracy started when lil’ gnomey was part of your average gnome MLM juggling pyramid. Things were going great with the other gnomes in the pyramid; they were making their quarterly goals, earning dance-offs with their uplines. Most importantly, they were reinvesting their earnings into their MLM schemes and juggling, juggling, juggling away. Lil’ gnomey was this close to making triple ruby status.
Fate would have it that a higher up was skimming cash. The next thing lil’ gnomey knew, he was out of income to reinvest into his developing downline. That’s when it all came crashing down, colorful balls rolling in every direction!!!
Lil gnomey and his cousins, close friends, and facebook followers were suddenly pyramid-less!!! They had nowhere to go, no product to sell, and no Annual Sales Convention to look forward to.
“It’s not safe for a gnome to be without a pyramid. That’s when the Big Guy came for us,” lil’ gnomey said. Next thing he knew, lil’ gnomey was swarmed by goons with gnome-sized baseball bats. He and the rest of the gnomes were forced into a new kind of profit scheme, this time with the Big Guy as the Triple Black Diamond upline of them all!!! But this wasn’t a proper LLC like the other MLM Juggling schemes. In fact, they weren’t even juggling. You know what they were doing, Gladys????
Pimping. Houses.
Every day, he and his regional associates would be forced to find a car, drive around door to door selling pimped out upgrades to unsuspecting suckers for bargain basement prices. When they got the cash for their completed work, they would hand it up to the Big Guy. He would mail them a commission in 4-6 weeks.
The only hitch was that the Big Guy wouldn’t provide them with any house pimping supplies. They had to source it on their own. Fortunately for them, they found a big empty building loaded with unwanted, unused furniture!!! That’s a relief Gladys, I was afraid they would have to steal!!!!
But talking people into pimping their house takes time. They didn’t have time!!!! With the help of a brainwashing device loaned to them by the Big Guy’s goons, they would brainwash Cradensburg residents into allowing them into their homes. Except for me.
“You were the only one who didn’t need the brainwashing device,” said lil’ gnomey. “You signed up in 3 minutes and .23 seconds.
CHeck out THOSE numbers Gladys!!! That’s brains!!!
The gnomes’ hands were full with the house pimping operation. Only lil’ gnomey and his regional associates consisting of cousins, close friends, and facebook followers, hadn’t lost the passion for juggling. They each quietly agreed that they would save their commissions until they had enough to reinvest into their original juggling pyramid scheme.
But the commission checks never came.
“When we stopped getting daily statements, I got suspicious,” said lil’ gnomey. “I gnew we had to get out of the house pimping business, but I was trapped. I needed to get some income for my downline, fast!!! We were in the middle of finishing your writing wing when I saw that your boyfriend wasn’t using his phone anymore, so I flashed the brainwashing device on him and took the phone. I was on my way to sell it to a banshee when you caught me.”
Then he said he thought his pants were fitting him better.
Did you get all that, Gladys????!!!!!!
My boyfriend was BRAINWASHED!!!!! Now the only thing left for me to do is hunt down the other gnomes and steal that brainwashing device!!! Then, I’m going to break my three-week rule, and meet my exboyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, for dinner at Fish! Fish! Fish!, use the brainwashing device on him, and put it in reverse so that his brain gets good and dirty the way a boyfriend’s mind is SUPPOSED TO BE!!! Then, he’ll move back in and I’ll finally write my epic fantasy saga, publish it, and instantly become famous!!!!
But first, I need to watch season three of True Blood with lil’ gnomey. We’ve come this far, Galdsy, WE HAVE TO FINISH THE WHOLE THING.
Not to worry, I’m going to defy the entire universe and squeeze in a little writing time before I grab that jar of nickels and my spelunking gear and go searching for lil’ gnomey’s regional associates.
Pages soon!!!
xox,
X
Subject: HALP!
Dear Gladys,
First off, how are you?
Secondly, I’m sure you are dying to know how my writing is going. Small hang up.
Thirdly, I’ve been kidnapped by a gnome crime ring.
[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com. Wipe your feet before entering.]
BEGGING THE QUESTION (PT. 1)
Hello All! Melanie here.
Thanks to her boyfriend’s convalescence in her newly expanded home, Writer X has been in the mood to write. With one problem: someone left a lot of Guilt lying around, and nobody had claimed it.
Unfortunately, that Unclaimed Guilt hampered X’s ability to get any pages written. It also triggered an investigative visit from the Warden of the Void of Asheput. If something wasn’t done about the Unclaimed Guilt, the Void Warden announced she might take Tryxy away.
Fortunately, Tod Boadkins recovered from his Second Book Syndrome in time to take responsibility for the Guilt, thus restoring order to the Writer X universe.
And I use the word order loosely. So loosely that you could drive a taco truck full of Sasquatches through it.
Meanwhile, in Cradensburg, the paths of Writer X and the Mysterious Complex continue to dance with each other but not yet cross. Perhaps one of these dancers will trip over a piece of the stolen furniture decorating X’s house, and we’ll have a collision.
For now, X, Tryxy, and #bestkitten seem to be free to enjoy their new writing wing, dance club/bedroom and luxury cat gym and spa. And who could forget the atrium that houses the malevolent purple leopard?
Will Writer X ever ask her newly-verbal boyfriend to move in with her? Will we see new pages this week? How many gnomes will be exploited in the making of this fit?
You see…I prefer to get my questions out in the open, rather than make people beg for them.
Without further ado…
Subject: ALL MY SUMMER WRITING PLANS ARE DASHED TO PIECES
Dear Gladys,
At first I thought my house ate my boyfriend. He’s only been better one whole day and I had just come home from work and couldn’t find him at all!!!
I checked the vestibule under the porch, the swimming pool in our garage, I checked 12 of the 11 eleven bathrooms, our bedroom, the original kitchen, the unoriginal kitchen…I even went to atrium!!! And then I checked the writing wing and, high on the dias, I found this note.
I don’t like this note at all. Just this morning I left the house imagining how famous I’ll be this summer from the writing that’ll get done now that my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, is going to live with me!!
Tryxy, #bestkitten and I are happy, but things have been even better with him here.
It’s hard to describe. The hundred or so rooms are brighter, the pinks are louder, I even feel more poetic. It’s like my house is a circus and my boyfriend is the world’s cutest clown that makes it romantically complete. Now that he lives with me, all of my writing problems have MELTED AWAY.
That is UNTIL THIS NOTE!!!
Gladys!!! This is the fourth worst night of my entire lifef!!!! My boyfriend isn’t moving in with me; HE’sS BREAKING UP WITH ME!!!!! My only hope is that I can text some sense back into him!!!!
xox,
X
Subject: HE’S NOT ANSWERING TEGTS!!!!!
Dear Gladys,
This is the eighth-most horrible morning I have ever lived!!!! And that includes the time when we were peed on by a unicorn. And the time I went to work in a brand new dress but Tryxy threw up on me before I even got out of the car!!!!
I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going, but THIS IS NOT THE TIME GALSYD!!! How can I write when I sent my ex-boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins a mere 147 text messages and he DIDN’T RESPOND TO A SINGLE ONE???!!!
How can I write when I got up this morning and checked my email and there was nothing there but spam from that Craigslist ad I put up last week????
Sure, maybe some writers write by putting one word after the other, but not me Gladys!!!!
He left me that note about good things ending when he was supposed to be moving in; therefore he is breaking up with me.
I can feel it coming. He hasn’t made it official yet, but when you RENOVATE YOUR WHOLE HOUSE so your boyfriend to move in and he LEAVES and then he doesn’t answer any of your 147 text messages, and doesn’t send you a loving morning email, it’s obvious what the next message is going to be!!! It’s going to be the official break up and the writing power couple will be forever over as we know it.
Gladys, Camelot is dead. I can’t take this. I have to do something to brighten my spirits.
Usually when I feel bad, my night vision googles, long range binoculars, and pink ninja suit make me feel a little bit better. Especially when I drive my car out to Bleakwood and park it somewhere on Tod Boadkins’ street and point my googles in the direction of my former lover, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins’ house. But it’s just so hard to see into his dining room with all the tears!!!!
Can you bring me some tissues and some de-puffing eye cream??? I’ve used all mine. You can find me across the street from Tod Boadkins’ house near the periwinkle blue cape cod. I’m under the rhododendron next to a pile of moon pies and crumpled snotty napkins. My heart is floating like a brick over my stomach. Maybe he will feel my loving eyes on him and he’ll suddenly come to his senses.
xox,
X
sent from my iPhone
Subject: It’s official.
Dear Gladys,
It’s official. We’ve broken up.
I’m under the rhododendron. I can see clear into Tod Boadkins’ living room. He was standing, looking adorable with his red beard and his orange sweater, studying a picture on the wall. It was from our first date at Fish! Fish! Fish!. I had it framed and hung last Hogswatch.
My deadweight heart began to pound. I wondered if he was thinking of me and regretting that he left. It was time to strike with the perfect text message!!!
The notification showed that he READ IT. And then you know what happened, Gladys????? He took the picture off the wall!!!!! I saw it with my very own binoculars (which I got for an amazing price, pristine magnification!!!)
Tonight is the first night we’re supposed to go our critique group meeting together!!!! How am I supposed to show up for that now that I’m puffy-eyed, covered in grass stains, and smell like the bottom of a bush??
A day ago I was half of the greatest writing power couple of all time. Now I’m just a lady with a pair of binoculars under a rhododendron. All my best years are behind me.
I’m not immature. I know when it’s time to pack up all your customized spying equipment and go home. I don’t even know if I should go to the critique group. They’re more his friends than mine.
I feel so used, Gladys!!! AFter all I did for him. I nursed him back to health!!! I wiped the drool from his adorable beard!!!! I bought him pajamas with little boats!!! We were moving in together and then he just cuts me off!!! I bet you he heard from his ex wife. He never got over her. Sometimes he would talk about her leaving him. He felt like she just discarded him.
Now my books will never get written.
Gladys, can you come and get me out of this rhododendron??? I think I got myself stuck again.
No, really. I’m stuck!!! You know the coordinates!!! Come get me!!!!
Oh, and can you pick up some allergy medicine for Tryxy??? I promised him I’d get him some on my way home and by the time you get me out of this bush the pharmacy will be closed!!!!
xox,
X
sent from my iPhone
Subject: First day of my new awful life
Dear Gladys,
So it turns out the writing group meeting wasn’t yesterday night, it was tonight. My ex boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins hasn’t responded to any of my text messages and hasn’t written me any emails either.
I talked to Tryxy. He’s forgiven you about the allergy medicine. He’s as confounded as I am. He said, “I thought you thed he wath moving in.” And I said, “I know, right???”
We both thought we were starting our lives with my boyfriend living with us. I told Tryxy I wouldn’t go to the writer meeting because they were more Tod Boadkins’ friends than mine. He told me I shouldn’t do that. He said I needed to keep my support network strong at times like this. He also said I should dress up and remind my ex-boyfriend what he’s missing out on.
Tryxy and I picked out a hot pink gown with a slit and then he did my makeup. Only my eyes are all swollen from all the crying and when he put on my eyeliner, my eyes looked like two coin slots. So we covered them up with these mysterious sunglasses.
All dolled up and mystified, I drove down to Ink Black Coffee Club, my heart in my throat, ready to face the man who had left me.
Everyone else was there.
He wasn’t.
I didn’t have much to say. Everyone talked about their writing and I just sat there in my best leggy gown and sunglasses and thought about award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, my not boyfriend.
Afterward, I didn’t feel like going home, I wasn’t ready for yet another place he wasn’t. Instead, I went for a walk in the town green to clear my thoughts and look at the gnome hole. It’s too bad the police still haven’t found the culprits that robbed the Mysterious Complex. It reminded me how dark this world has become.
I looked into that deep, empty hole and felt like I was gazing into myself. I don’t want to become as dark as that hole and as bitter as my exboyfriend is about his exwife. So I prayed to the writing gods for one glimmer of hope in my—
Hang on, Gladys.
I just spotted a gnome casually strolling by the gazebo. I wouldn’t have thought anything of this gnome strolling by the gazebo except that he WAS CARRYING AN iPHONE. How many gnomes do you know that carry iPHones, Galdys???? They all carry Androids!!!! And if I’m not mistaken, I recognize the crack pattern on the screen.
Hang on Gladys, I have to hitch up my gown and get ready for a gnome tackle!!!!
Okay, I’m back. The gnome freaked and tried to give me the slip, but just before he could dart off in the direction of the library, I tore the skirt off my dress and flapped it around, confusing him. I wasn’t gonna let him get away!!!!
While I confounded him, I slipped off one shoe, wound up my arm, and then hurled it. The shoe sailed across the dark town green, a streak of glittering pink rotating through the air in the lantern light. The gnome gaped at it. I gaped at it. The shoe struck the gnome cleanly in the tooth.
Nothing makes a gnome angrier than getting hit in the tooth with a shoe!!! “Hey, lady! What’s your problem?” he shouted indignantly, thumbing his upper lip and checking for blood.
That’s when I threw my skirt over him, tackled him to the ground, and wrestled the phone out of his hands.
It’s exactly as I thought, Gladys!!!! THIS GNOME HAD TOD BOADKINS PHONE!!!! I even see my text message that this gnome read and didn’t respond to!!!!!
Gotta go, have to hog tie this gnome and take him back to my interrogation chamber!!!!
