February 24th, 2015

sf doctor who meant to be?

she said you came and took your stuff away

Old Venus comes out on Tuesday.

Old Venus is not your father's retro-futurism. It's the Venus of the pulps, yes, but imagined as if that Venus--swampy, syrupy, paleolithic--had turned out to be real. Something that the evolved science fiction of today could still sink its teeth into. It's a fun, playful, thoughtful anthology including stories by writers ranging from Tobias S. Buckell to Joe Haldeman.

It's netting great reviews, too. (You can read some of the Usual Suspects at that Barnes and Noble link, and here's Russell Letson's take.)

Seriously, this is awesome and you want it.

And now, to try to screw my sick head on and finish this library story.
spies avengers steed and peel needed

not like that, oh no. not so black and white.

4280 words today, to finish a draft of "En Libres."

An epic fantasy short story revolving around the protagonists's desire to finish their dissertations and collect their Ph.Ds, starring a postgrad centaur alchemist and a postgrad botanical thaumaturge.

Now I get Thai food, as my reward for virtue. And I get to goof off tonight. 

I've already written six pieces of short fiction in 2015, which is as many as I managed in all of 2014.

Maybe something came unstuck?

Also, I'm being funny this year.

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