Sunday, 22 May 2016

Film Ramble: Drowning in Nineties Anime, Pt. 10

Double figures?  That's ridiculous!  I'm pretty sure that when I started these articles I didn't expect to still be at them - what is it, a year?  A decade? - later.  Still, there's nineties anime left on the to-watch shelf, quite a lot of it in fact, and a crazy, self-imposed mission is a crazy, self-imposed mission.

Plus, this time around, we have some really good stuff.

Yeah, you read that right!  For perhaps the first time ever in this series, nothing I've watched was completely rubbish.  In fact, at the risk of going out on a limb, I'm going to say that this is the first of these articles where I'd at least hesitantly recommend all four entries.  Given how basically disastrous this whole nineties anime experiment has been, consider my mind a little bit blown at this point.

Anyway.  This time around, we have, You're Under Arrest: The Movie, Oh My Goddess!, Wicked City and Shadow Skill...

You're Under Arrest: The Movie, 1999, dir: Junji Nishimura

You're Under Arrest was quite the franchise for a while, with an OVA, multiple series and this feature-length film - and all of that despite the lack of anything obvious to separate it from the crowd.  Not to criticize, because anime is pretty great at taking uninspiring elements and finding something new and fun to do with them, but a buddy-cop police show with two female cops is - well, pretty radical for its time, now that I think.  Okay, forget I spoke.

The You're Under Arrest movie is, however, an odd beast indeed.  It's so remarkably close in tone and plot to the second Patlabor movie that it's hard to imagine the fact being a coincidence - especially given that the film is noted for being much darker than other incarnations of the franchise.  And as much as I feel I should be criticizing on that front, I really can't.  I mean, I struggle to think of any less offensive crime than ripping off a great Mamoru Oshii movie.  Plus, it works.  You're Under Arrest may in fact be parodying Patlabor 2, though I suspect that's giving it more credit than it  deserves, but whatever the case, an Oshii-esque political thriller plot married to the somewhat goofy action and characters of YUA makes for a weirdly charming arrangement.

Admittedly, it takes half the film for those two disparate ingredients to really mesh.  The first half is full of slow character and plot build, and rather dour, which must have been quite the shake-up for those expecting something more light-hearted.  It also assumes a degree of familiarity with the characters, though never so much as to be confusing.  At any rate, it's only once the groundwork's been laid that You're Under Arrest really comes to life as the curious hybrid it seems intent on being.

Perhaps none of this sounds terribly positive, but I enjoyed the You're Under Arrest movie rather a lot.  It's a solid thriller with appealing characters and a distinctive plot; it's looks good too, with the small exception of a tendency to cut to static frames that suggests the budget was getting tight by the end.  If it's not a classic in any shape or form, it's certainly a film that I look forward to watching again - and by the standards of these articles, that's a definite win.

Oh My Goddess!, 1993, dir: Hiroaki Gôda

Another franchise with considerable legs on it, Oh My Goddess! (sometimes, Ah My Goddess!) has since become a series that lasted for full two seasons and produced a movie - which is excellent, and was the reason I tracked down this OVA from way back in 1993, with high hopes that it would be more of the same.  Which was naive, in retrospect, because an OVA from 1993 is very much not the same thing as a movie from 2000 with really good production values, animation standards having come on a great deal in those seven years.  But in most other respects, Oh My Goddess! managed not to disappoint.

Whatever incarnation you get, the basic facts are these: good-hearted teenager Keiichi inadvertently finds himself contacting the Goddess Help Line - literally a divine intervention help desk - and in the resulting confusion uses the one wish he's granted by the adorable goddess Belldandy to ask that she stay with him forever.  That's a setup with the scope to be unpleasant on any number of levels, and perhaps the charm of Oh My Goddess! is that it sidesteps most of those so effortlessly.  Though it has to be said, the OVA does so rather less neatly than the film, which begins once Keiichi and Belldandy's romance is firmly established: the second of the five episodes here has Keiichi descending into the lecherous teenager mode that populates so much anime, and is by far the weakest for it.

After that, though, things pick up considerably.  Oh My Goddess! is laden with charm, thanks both to its two main characters and the fact that they clearly do adore each other and belong together, a fun supporting cast that includes Belldandy's two troublesome goddess sisters, and a concept that's just basically mad, in a fashion that only anime seems able to pull off.  The way, for example, that religion runs like a mismanaged IT support department in the Oh My Goddess! universe never ceases to be strange and fun.

With all of that said, I suppose there's nothing mind-blowingly spectacular about this three hour OVA; the first two episodes are pleasant but functional, the animation barely rises much above decent, and it takes a fair old while for the plot to kick in in any meaningful way.  Still, Oh My Goddess! earned its place in the anime pantheon for a reason - it's immensely likable, basically - and there are worse places to start with the universe than here at the beginning.

Wicked City, 1987, dir: Yoshiaki Kawajiri

If I'd known I'd end up watching so many movies about invading tentacle-demons, or that so many of those movies would rely heavily on sexual violence, I'm pretty sure I'd never have started this whole nineties anime thing in the first place.  Wicked City arrived in what must have been some sort of golden year for this sort of thing, in that the first part of the Legend of the Overfiend OVA was released then too.  And Wicked City follows a noticeably similar groove, though one that's immediately more interesting.  We learn quickly that there's been uncomfortable peace between the human and demon worlds for centuries and that it's about to be cemented by a major treaty; but for that to succeed, a human member of an organisation named "The Black Guard" will need to partner with his sexy, female demon opposite to protect a visiting dignitary from what amount to demonic terrorists.

Writing it up like that, Wicked City sounds pretty great - and, damn it, it sort of is.  Though certainly not because of that aforementioned sexual violence, which is unpleasant for precisely the same reasons that I found Legend of the Overfiend so downright nasty: there's simply no sense of understanding that rape is a traumatic, life-deforming event.  There's no dancing around the fact, it's gravely problematic and trivialising, and it's sure to make the film unwatchable for many.

There's really no way to defend a film having said something like that.  As such, I feel a bit icky admitting that, its least pleasant aspects aside, I found myself enjoying Wicked City quite a bit.  For a start, it frequently looks terrific, particularly for a film made at the back end of the eighties; there's a great amount of visual flair on display and a use of light and darkness that beats out many an objectively better film.  The plot, too, is unusually engaging: it takes a couple of unexpected beats, and there's a decent twist towards the end.  And, this being a Yoshiaki Kawajiri movie - he of Ninja Scroll and Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust fame - you're guaranteed some truly imaginative enemies, along with a generally high level of weirdness.  Wicked City is, in fact, full of images and moments that feel genuinely strange and transgressive nearly two decades later.  It's an exploitation movie, there's no question of that, but within those boundaries it's a pretty damn good example of what it is.

Shadow Skill, 1995, Hiroshi Negishi

Shadow Skill is another puzzling release from Manga, though for the opposite of the usual reasons.  What we have here is Shadow Skill the Movie (actually a three part OVA, if my OVA-spotting skills haven't failed me) and something described, off-handedly, as an epilogue - which is barely mentioned on the back of the edition I have, despite being a good fifty minutes long, crucial to the story and by far the high point of the whole endeavor.

Not that Shadow Skill is lacking for high points.  On the surface, we're looking at a fairly standard fantasy release here, with a heavy emphasis on martial arts action, but it's all done well: the writing is a cut above the usual, the character designs are weird but distinctive, the music's appealing and the animation is above par for the time, getting significantly better over the running time.

However, none of that's really what sets Shadow Skill apart, though it certainly doesn't hurt.  No, what makes this special, first and foremost, is the characterization.  Our sort-of-heroes are the splendidly named Elle Ragu and her adopted son / little brother / martial arts student Gau, and both of them are set out, quickly and persuasively, in a few broad strokes.  Gau is pretty much your standard anime male protagonist, though an unusually likable example of that demographic.  But Elle is a real standout, a complex female lead of the kind that so much of what I've watched has been frustratingly short of.  (Noticeably, she's also one of the very few female fighters anywhere in anime who isn't preposterously waifish.  Elle looks like she could kick your ass.)  Their relationship, though, is what really elevates the material.  Shadow Skill nods towards an epic arc plot that never really coalesces, but what it's really about is the dynamic between these two likable characters, and on that level the film and epilogue together make for a satisfying whole.

There's plenty of other exceptional stuff happening, though.  The minor characters and all of the relationships have a lived-in feel that pays dividends, especially when the plot requires friends to abruptly become enemies.  The second episode (er, middle act) contains one of my favourite sequences anywhere in anime, a hugely convoluted action sequence that makes no sense at all and is all the more fun for it.  The explanation for the shadow skill school of martial arts, revealed in the epilogue, is such a poignant detail that it almost demands a rewatch of the whole show.

So ... yeah, I really like Shadow Skill, okay?  It doesn't reinvent the nineties anime wheel and to modern eyes it's hokey in a way that, say, Ghost in the Shell isn't.  But delve under the surface and there's an awful lot to love.  I've watched it twice now and I'm sure I'll come back to it again.  And that's not because I have an anime-crush on Elle Ragu, because ... um ... that would be weird.

-oOo-

Honestly, I could stop this series right here and now.  I went looking for a holy grail, and now here it is, sitting on my mantelpiece next to the tacky holiday ornaments and the photos of cats.  Not only did I find one really good bit of nineties anime that I'd never heard of before I started on this pointless crusade, I found four, and all in the same month.  This is like setting out to buy a loaf of bread and realising you've climbed Everest by mistake.

But, like I said at the start, there's still nineties anime on the shelf, and I may possibly have just ordered a load more, and good god, this really is never going to end, is it?   So onwards I go, in the sure knowledge that this post was definitely the high point of the whole endeavour and that, whatever happens, it's all downhill from here.  Wish me luck...




[Other posts in this series: Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8, Part 9]



Tuesday, 17 May 2016

The Sign in the Moonlight, Soon in Hardback

I've been dancing around some news about my debut collection The Sign in the Moonlight and Other Stories for a while now, while t's got dotted and i's got crossed, but finally it's officially official: there's going to be a hardback edition and it's coming soon.  And it's coming from hugely respected UK small press NewCon - which, frankly, is about the best result I could have hoped for.

No, wait, that's a fib.  The best result would have been to have it come out from NewCon in some sort of insanely stylish, extra-special collector's edition.  Maybe a casebound hardcover with colour illustrations, extra artwork, an exclusive new story, notes from yours truly on every single tale, that kind of thing.

Yeah, that would be pretty cool.

All of which is to say that this is the hardback edition to end all hardback editions.  NewCon head honcho Ian Whates and I have put a whole lot of work and discussion in over the last few months figuring out how we can make this book the most special thing it could possibly be.  And honestly, I think we've about nailed it; what with that extra artwork, the new content and some off-the-charts production, this is going to be one lavish edition.

I don't have an official release date yet, though I'm pretty sure it'll be on or around this year's Edge-Lit - which is yet another excuse to go one of the UK's better mini-Cons.  In the meantime, you can pre-order a copy on the NewCon website here.

Of course, if you can't stretch to the gorgeous hardback, you can still pick up the e-book and paperback editions through Amazon, in the UK here and the US here.  And on that note, here are are a few of the nice things people have said about The Sign in the Moonlight and Other Stories in its existing editions:
"...a cracking collection of stories", "Tallerman takes tropes any reader of weird fiction will know well, and uses them to do something poignant and unexpected." - This is Horror
"I wouldn't hesitate to recommend this work to fans of Lovecraft, MR James, Algernon Blackwood et al as Tallerman can take his place amongst those, and other, master craftsmen of the dark tale." - Bristol Book Blog
"Many of the stories are Lovecraftian in the best way, echoing HPL’s fondness for odd civilisations and barbaric traditions, and never mind all the glubbling and unpronounceable names...."  Theresa Derwin's Terror Tree

Wednesday, 11 May 2016

Short Story News, May 2016



To my surprise, things continue to trundle along apace on the short fiction front, at least enough to warrant another post on the subject only a couple of months after the last one.

The most up-to-the-minute development is that my paranoiac science fiction short Team Invasion is now available to read for free in the first issue of new pro 'zine Liminal Stories, along with five other tales.  I've not had the change to read them yet but they all look intriguing, and the accompanying illustrations are fantastic.  Incidentally, one of the nicest back-handed compliments I've received was that my mum was worried to tell me what she thought of Team Invasion because it had disturbed her so much.  I spent a few minutes feeling pleased with myself before I realised that traumatising your mother perhaps isn't an achievement to be proud of.  Still, this one was meant to be all kinds of unsettling. so at the least I got the desired result from one reader.

On the subject of stories coming out, there's also Dancing in the Winter Rooms, which, having already appeared as its own adorable e-book, has since made it into the latest Digital Fiction Publishing anthology, Ctrl Alt Delight.  I know I go on a lot about these (after all, I've been in four of them now, with more on the way!) but they really are excellent, varied collections, at a wholly reasonable price, and I always look forward to digging into them.  For those with catholic sci-fi tastes, they're definitely worth a look.

Of course, I say that having sold another story to Digital - this time, Rindelstein's Monsters, to the fantasy wing - but hey!  And in other sales news, my story Witch House is going to be in the second issue of fairly new, definitely exciting magazine Shattered Prism - which, I only realised after I'd submitted, lives under the umbrella of my C21st Gods publisher Rosarium.  Anyway, Witch House is a slice of (literally) magical realism and a particularly English modern folk tale, though with some larger concerns ticking away in the background.

Perhaps the strangest sale I've made of late, though, was when I got an e-mail out of the blue from the editor of forthcoming anthology Far Orbit: Last Outpost, a book I'd submitted to and been rejected from some months before, asking if my story Risk Assessment was still available.  I'm not sure exactly what happened, but it turns out that the only thing nicer than an acceptance is an acceptance, months later, of a story that's already been rejected.  As the title suggests, we're talking military sci-fi here, though Risk Assessment is a little closer to the parody edge of that genre, which is perhaps why it didn't make the cut the first time around.  At any rate, I remember the precise moment when the idea for this one came to me: it was a health and safety lecture back in my MOD days, a talk so boring that what else was I supposed to do but splice it together in my head with scenes from Starship Troopers?

Last up, the Mysterion anthology - a book I'm really looking forward to, purely because its focus on genre stories drawing upon the weirder aspects of Christian theology is something I've not seen done elsewhere - now has an official table of contents.  After reading on their blog that the editors were receiving an overabundance of stories with one word biblical place name titles, I'm rather proud that Golgotha was the only one to survive the cut!  And, in fairness, I can't imagine this story under any other title.  Anyway, here's the line-up, along with the rather gorgeous cover:


“The Monastic” by Daniel Southwell
“When I Was Dead” by Stephen Case
“Forlorn” by Bret Carter
“Too Poor to Sin” by H. L. Fullerton
“Golgotha” by David Tallerman
“A Lack of Charity” by James Beamon
“Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit” by Robert B. Finegold, MD
“A Good Hoard” by Pauline J. Alama
“Yuri Gagarin Sees God” by J. S. Bangs
“Confinement” by Kenneth Schneyer
“The Angel Hunters” by Christian Leithart
“Cutio” by F. R. Michaels
“St. Roomba’s Gospel” by Rachael K. Jones
“Yuki and the Seven Oni” by  S. Q. Eries
“A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows” by Beth Cato
“This Far Gethsemane” by G. Scott Huggins
“Ascension” by Laurel Amberdine
“Cracked Reflections” by Joanna Michal Hoyt
“The Physics of Faith” by Mike Barretta
“Horologium” by Sarah Ellen Rogers

Monday, 2 May 2016

An Alternative to Puppydom

So it's 2016 and the Sad and / or Rabid Puppies have done it again.  And for anyone who doesn't know what that means, a) you're fortunate and b) here's a link to an article in The Guardian that explains things, more or less.  Short version: right wing idiots try and reform the Hugo awards in the same way nasty children try and reform other kids' sandcastles.

How do you persuade adult bullies to stop being bullies?  Probably you can't; probably it's much too late for that.  Either way, most likely we'll end up with a bunch of no votes like last year, and the whole miserable shambles will continue until either the Hugo awards are a thing of the past or the bullies finally realise just how little they're achieving and start misapplying their energies elsewhere.  What I find most frustrating is that, hidden amidst all the rhetoric and bigotry, there was the core of a good point at the beginning of all this: while it had as little to do with Social Justice Warriors as it did with Bigfoot or rogue Atlanteans, the Hugos had dug themselves into something of a niche.  A little thoughtful discussion and considered reform might not have been such a bad thing.  So the fact that we've had two years of precisely the opposite of that represents the worst of both possible worlds.

Ah well.  At least this might be the year when gay dinosaur porn finally gets the kudos it deserves.

Anyway, here's my suggestion, for whatever it's worth: let's forget about the whole stupid mess.  Let's pay the Puppies precisely the amount of attention they deserve - that would be none whatsoever - and let's all devote the time and mental energy we save thereby to something positive.  Like, say, the 2016 Clarke Award shortlist, which is a pretty damn great overview of the industry, and includes my friend Adrian Tchaikovsky and his novel Children of Time, which by all accounts is stunning.  (The only reason I'm yet to read it is that I've been too busy reading all five billion pages of The Shadows of the Apt!)

Or ... here's a thought.  If we really wanted to show up the Puppies up for the churlish sack of nutters they are, maybe we could promote some genuinely worthy cause?  Like, oh say, Rosarium Publishing's Indiegogo campaign.  Right now it's doing pretty well, with more than half of its funding raised.  But there's also a good chance that it might not make its target, so the time for anyone who's been sitting on the wall to start paying attention is right now.  Especially since big name author chap Rick (Percy Jackson) Riordan has pledged to match all commitments made between now and the end of the campaign up to a total of $10'000.

Here's the thing: the genre publishing industry talks an awful lot about diversity and representation, but too much of the time that's nothing but talk.  And sometimes it feels that people would rather be outraged by those getting it wrong than praise those striving to get it right.  Rosarium is home to creators from all over the world, and the only thing that unites them (I guess I should say, us) is that they're (we're) talented storytellers with cool ideas to share.  For me, this is precisely what a small press (and hey, the big five too, but maybe that's a wish too far right now) should be doing: putting out cool, exciting books by creators regardless of their race, colour, gender or creed.  And surely it's precisely what we as an industry should be supporting, instead of getting our collective underwear in a twist over how a bunch of bigots have derailed some award.

So, if you're interested in independent books and comics, or in promoting diversity within the publishing industry, or in reading stuff that's good, please go take a look here and see if anything grabs your fancy.  And if nothing does, or you're just short of money, perhaps think about spreading the word.  There are only three days left, and this is kind of a big deal for a whole lot of people.

Sunday, 24 April 2016

Writing Ramble: In Defense of Second Drafts

Recently my friend Andy Knighton wrote an excellent blog post titled Surviving the Second Draft, which did exactly what it said on the tin, offering some sensible tips on how to struggle through that fearsome first redraft.

I say, "fearsome first redraft" - but second drafts are my absolutely favourite part of the writing process.  I commented to that effect on Andy's post, smugly pointing out that "you take something that’s kind of a mess and make it into something really good, what’s not to like?" and Andy made the sensible point that not everyone likes to admit they messed up the first time, never mind having to think about setting right what once went wrong.

This is very true.  And if I think back, I know full well that there was a time when I felt the same.  First drafts were sacred brain-goop, the raw outpourings of an unfettered subconscious.  Second drafts were weird and icky, a process of picking over something best left unpicked.  And third drafts were - well, why would you have a third draft, when you'd nailed it the first time, then made yourself miserable trying to find faults in something that was just fine to begin with?  As much as I might not want to relive such early writing traumas, I understand.

Still.  The fact remains that I was wrong.  Seconds drafts are awesome.

I guess that when you're starting out, the first draft has to be fun, otherwise there'd never be any end product.  And second drafts are the natural antithesis of that; they're about conceding your mistakes, which is not generally considered an enjoyable act.  Still.  If you're relatively new to writing then I promise you, second drafts are where it's at.  And not only is that the case but it's a good thing.

Why?  Partly because it takes away some of that awful, mind-crushing fear that first putting finger to keyboard - and then doing the same again and again and again until you actually have something resembling a story - involves.  Embracing second drafts is to admit that your first drafts aren't perfect, and never could have been, were never meant to be.  It's to accept your own fleshy weakness, your flimsy-brainedness, and to comprehend that human beings create processes for a reason.  The reason  second drafts exist is because you will never, ever get everything right the first time.  Maybe you'll make a million typos.  Maybe you'll settle for third person when your protagonist needed to be telling their story themselves.  Maybe you'll fling about adverbs with wild abandon and forget that speech tags are a thing.  Or perhaps it will be a combination of all those failings and more.

But it's okay.  The second draft is your safety net.

Here's the thing: second drafts are the point where you get to get things right.  Inevitably my first drafts disappoint and unsettle me.  There are nuggets of awesome, but they're hidden amongst great swathes of mediocrity, not to mention clunky language and inexplicable spelling.  They're the point where I wonder if I haven't maybe found myself in the wrong business, when after all I'd be much better suited to interior design or inventing new breakfast cereals.  But then I remember that clunky language can be tightened, spelling mistakes can be spotted, and really, just about any other first draft mistake can be fixed too.  Sometimes it's a matter of tidying and sometimes it's a matter of immense effort - I say this as someone who not so long ago changed the tense of an entire novel! - but the crucial point is that the end result is always better.

And that, ultimately, is the joy of the second draft.  The first time around you get to be intermittently good, maybe even intermittently great in small doses.  The second time around, if you're willing to put in the same level of energy all over again, you can nail it.  And then there's the third draft, which in my head is usually called the polish draft now, for obvious reasons: that's where the story begins to genuinely shine.  But the first step, I think, is just to get past that hurdle of thinking of the second draft as a chore, a hardship or some assault on your artistic integrity.  You want to tell a story?  You want it to be amazing?  Then the biggest advantage you have is that you don't have to be perfect the first time through.

Saturday, 16 April 2016

Hemingway: A Review

This is not, I should emphasize from the off, a review of author Ernest Hemingway.  Because that would be awfully presumptuous, and anyway, it's bad form to review dead people.  Although if it was a review of Ernest Hemingway I'd give him a hearty four and a half stars out of five.  Here's a clip from Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris to justice that score:

I'd also give Midnight in Paris four a half stars, incidentally.

But this isn't a review of Ernest Hemingway or Midnight in Paris, it's a review of an application called Hemingway, which you can find here.  Hemingway the application is a free web app (though there's a purchasable desktop version that appears to do more or less the same thing) that describes itself as "like a spellchecker, but for style."  Basically, you copy into it or write a section of text and Hemingway judges that text according to five parameters.  Four of these get immediately identified with some neat colour coding: hard to read and very hard to read sentences are marked in yellow and red respectively, phrases with simpler alternatives are purple, adverbs are pale blue and incidents of passive voice are green.  Lastly, Hemingway assigns a readability stat based on what I assume to be the US school grading system.

This is helpful, without a doubt.  In fact, ever since I discovered Hemingway a couple of weeks ago I've been using it more or less constantly.  There's something awfully brilliant about colour coding: paste in a paragraph and you'll see either a panic-inducing splatter of primary shades or a reassuringly plain background.  It makes for an intuitive insight into what's working and what isn't; go mad with the adverbs, inadvertently phrase half your story in the passive voice, and Hemingway will let you know about it in no time at all.

Which is not to say you won't want to punch it.  I spend approximately sixty percent of my time with Hemingway wanting to punch it, and I'm a fairly laid back sort; your personal mileage may vary.  The thing is, as much as everything that it's pointing out is useful in theory, it's really not that bright.  Unlike more sophisticated tools, it has no structural or contextual understanding of what you've written, and works off hard and fast rules and what appear to be fairly simple metrics.

Take adverbs, for example.  Here's what Wikipedia has to say about adverbs:
An adverb is a word that modifies a verb, adjective, another adverb, determiner, noun phrase, clause, or sentence. Adverbs typically express manner, place, time, frequency, degree, level of certainty, etc., answering questions such as how?, in what way?, when?, where?, and to what extent?
Wow, Wikipedia, you make adverbs sound pretty awesome!  But here's what Hemingway has to say about adverbs:
ADVERBS ARE THE ANTICHRIST AND YOU SHOULD DELETE THEM, EVERY LAST ONE, BEFORE ALL GOODNESS IS SUCKED FROM THE WORLD AND SATAN RULETH FOREVER!!!!
4½ / 5
Okay, that's not what Hemingway says.  I'm paraphrasing.  What it actually does is tell you how many adverbs you have and then demand that you remove most or all of them.  Regardless of their function.  Because it doesn't really get that adverbs serve a ton of different purposes.

All of which is to say, you should totally check out Hemingway, it's a great tool, named after a great writer, who was impersonated in a great Woody Allen Film.  (Perhaps the last great Woody Allen film?)  But ... you should treat what it tells you with a pretty big pinch of salt.  Frankly, all of its categories are about as dumb as those poor adverbs; its idea of what constitutes a hard to read sentence will have most authors wincing on a regular basis.  On the other hand, if an entire paragraph turns red then you might want to consider reining things in a little.

This brings me a wider point that's a good one to wrap up on: though there are certainly a ton of great answers out there on the subject of writing, and no end of neat tools, none of them are ever entirely, one hundred percent right.  A big part of being a successful writer, in my experience, is learning whatever you can from a particular source and then knowing when to disregard it.  With that in mind, Hemingway is a pretty great editing tool; used with restraint, it definitely has the potential to make your writing life easier.  Just don't altogether trust it, and certainly don't rely on it exclusively, that's all I'm saying.

Sunday, 10 April 2016

Help Rosarium, Help Cthulhu

It's been a while since I've talked about my horror / sci-fi comic book miniseries C21st Gods, so let's redress that a little, shall we?  After all, there's never been a better time to do so - but more on that in a moment.


The first bit of big news is that, after some hiccups last year, the project is now fully up and running again in the hands of a new artist: the hugely talented Anthony Summey.

Anthony is brilliant.  I  mean, he's a brilliant artist, you can see that for yourself just from the logo there, but he's also been brilliant to work with, and an absolute professional.  I've seen inked pages for about half of the first issue now, and they're marvelous, not to mention a great representation of what's got to be one of the better scripts I've written.  I don't know, perhaps this is the year for projects coming back from the brink of death, but I'm confident that when this thing hits the shelves later in the year it's going to look great.

Which brings us round to why I'm mentioning this now, and why C21st Gods is happening at all - which is to say, Bill Campbell and his publishing house Rosarium.

There's a lot to like about what Rosarium's been doing these last couple of years, but one thing that stands out above all others.  Inclusivity in publishing is one of those subjects that lots of people talk about and very few people act on in anything but the most surface ways.  One of the rare exceptions - perhaps the most major exception right now - is Rosarium.  Rosarium has inclusivity in the very marrow of its bones, and that's led to a range of creators and of books that you're unlikely to find anywhere else in today's market; these are varied and exciting works by varied and exciting people, and it's an honour, frankly, to be a part of that line-up.

And Rosarium has been growing fast.  I mean, even in the short time I've been involved, that much has been obvious.  With projects like Stories for Chip: A Tribute to Samuel R. Delany, The SEA Is Ours: Tales of Steampunk Southeast Asia, and APB: Artists against Police Brutality, they've grown into a force to be taken seriously - hence some major attention and a couple of awards being thrown their way.  Now Rosarium is perched on the verge of great things, and that means needing money, and that means a fund-raising campaign - in this case, Indiegogo.

Now, I try not to badger anyone to throw their money at things here on the blog, even things I've written, because, hey. we're all broke, right?  But I hope people will have a look at this and maybe think about hurling a little cash Rosarium's way.  If only because most of the awards are books, and Rosarium do great books.  Get something brilliant to read and help a publisher that's actively making the industry a better place flourish more than it's already doing?  I feel okay with asking people to do that.  With that in mind, you can find the details of Rosarium's Indiegogo campaign here.