StoriesA collection of my stories, called A Place So Foreign and Eight More was published by Four Walls Eight Windows in September, 2003. Six of the nine stories are available for free download under a Creative Commons license, and the book is selling briskly.
New Voices in Science Fiction (with Charlie Stross)
Resnick emailed me just as I was finishing up Jury Service with Charlie Stross and asked me if I'd be interested in writing something for New Voices in Science Fiction, an anthology he was putting together for SFWA to feature up and coming new genre writers. I wanted to work with Stross again, so I pitched him on a collaboration, and he took it.
This was originally titled "Flowers from Algernon" (which is a lot snappier, but didn't make a lot of sense in the context of the story). I wrote my bits during a period of intensive travel, mostly squatting in airport departure lounges and hotel lobbies.
The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric and Discredited Diseases (Jeff Vandermeer and Mark Roberts, eds.)
My old Clarion classmate Jeff Vendermeer asked me to write something for his anthology of fictional, fantastical diseases and I came up with this -- a twenty-first century illness that speaks to our ability to inaccurately sense our environment.
Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine
The Infinite Matrix, July 2008
Year's Best Science Fiction 9 (edited by David Hartwell and Kathryn Cramer)
Solaris Magazine (French Translation by Elisabeth Vonarburg), 2004
Sci Fi World (Chinese translation), September 2004
ESLI Magazine (Russian translation), 2005
Bli-Panika (Hebrew translation), 2005
Italian Translation, 2006, by Giovanni Ella
This one literally came to me in a dream: I woke up one morning, shortly after moving to San Francisco, with this whole story in my head. I wrote it over the next two weeks, and, what, three years later?, Asimov's finally published it!
This story has also been translated into French by Elisabeth Vonarburg, for the Quebecois magazine Solaris in 2004. You can download it from here under a Creative Commons license.
In 2005, the Russian SF magazine ESLI reprinted this magazine in Russian translation. Download it here under a Creative Commons license.
Business 2.0 commissioned this short-short story from me as a sidebar to a feature of way-out technologies written by my pal David Pescovitz (who co-edits Boing Boing with me. It was really challenging trying to squeeze all those technologies into such a short piece!
I wrote this story for a meeting of the Turkey City Writers Workshop at Bruce Sterling's house in Austin, Texas. The critiques there really helped me whip it into shape, and Salon published it soon after.
The story is based on a bunch of stuff that is really going on now: Indian bands in Canada are really experimenting with high-powered cognitive radios to allow for unlimited wireless communication, despite Canadian federal laws that prohibit this; wireless hackers are really figuring out how to make radios that are so much more efficient than today's devices as to make them look like tinker-toys.
scifi.com (with Charlie Stross)
In spring 2002, Charlie Stross and I co-wrote a story called "Jury Service," an extremely gonzo post-Singularity story whose writing was more fun than any other story I've ever written. Charlie and I pitched the manuscript back and forth to one another in 500-1000 word chunks, each time trying to top the other. We have very little "meta" communication -- just sent the story around and rewrote what we had, then added our own bits. I can remember chuckling so loudly while considering what I would do with Charlie's latest challenge in an airport lounge that the security guard came by to ask if everything was all right.
Stross is amazingly fun to write with. We've put together another story since and will be writing some short shorts as soon as both of us can take a break from our novels for a couple weeks.
"Jury Service" was published in four pieces -- it's 21,000 words in all! -- on scifi.com, weekly through December 2002. The first chunk went live this morning. I think that this is one of the most entertaining pieces I've ever worked on, kind of Rucker-meets-Stephenson-meets-William S. Burroughs. Hope you like it.
I'm not really big on sequels. For me, inventing a new world is about 80% of the fun. That said, I did write one novelette-length followup (not really a sequel) to Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, this story right here, Truncat.
This is yet another one of those stories that I've written at a summer writers' retreat with old Clarion classmates and friends. This one came out of a workshop at Cynthia Zender's house in Colorado Springs, CO -- the same town where Tesla set the world's record for longest piece of man-made lightning.
It was originally published in BAKKANTHOLOGY, an anthology of stories by writers who've worked at Bakka, the Toronto-based science fiction bookstore where I once worked. It was a great little limited-edition book, but I wanted the story to have wider distribution, so I arranged with Salon to have it reprinted in August, just before the next WorldCon.
Mammoth Book of Tales from the Road, Maxim Jakubowski (Editor), M. Christian (Editor), Carroll & Graf
Two things inspired me to write this: Ian McDonald's Klingklangklatch, a graphic novel that is a tribute to Tom Waits, and Tom Waits' Asylum Years LP. It has all my favorite stuff: alien visitors and popculture trash.
Swedish translation (Johan Anglemark/Enhörningen Magazine)
Slovak translation (Pavol Hvizdos)
I wrote this while at a summer writer's workshop in July, 2002, at an arts-center on Toronto Island. Like most of my fiction, this reflects a lot of what's going on in my life at the moment. In this case, it was my immersion in copyright issues, nerd culture and posthumanism. This is the first SF story Salon ever published, and it made quite a splash -- and was nominated for a Nebula Award in 2003.
NB: This story is available for free online, through the good graces of Fortean Bureau, an excellent webzine. You can read it here.
I got the idea for this story one day while wandering around my local fairground -- a good pastime for a theme-park nut. There was an old-timers' ragtime band there, a clarinet and a set of tubs and a guitar with a little amp and a trombone, and all in matching red jackets, not a one under 60. They swung their way through a bunch of my requests, but it was all cut short when the goddamn airshow started and they got buzzed and buzzed and buzzed by jets. They valiantly struggled through it for a couple numbers, but then gave it up.
I've always been obsessed by the apocalype (I grew up in the antiwar movement, three-quarters convinced that I was headed for nuclear doom), and with apocalyptic lit, especially John Wyndham and Nevil Shute. When relatives nag me about not saving up for my old age, I usually smart off with a remark about not needing a retirement plan, just a long pole so I can dig for canned goods in the postapocalyptic rubble.
The title, of course, is from a great old Andrews Sisters number.