mariness

My latest short story, Inhabiting Your Skin, just popped up over at Apex Magazine, along with an interview with me.

In the interview, Andrea Johnston asks questions about why so many of my stories - including this one - don't have character names. Usually it's because I can't think of names, to the point where I deliberately wrote an entire story around that. In the case of this particular story, however, I knew from the first sentence that nobody would have a name - you'll see why as you read it, I think.

The actual problem I had with this story was with the title. I went through 30 different titles for this story, all worse than the last. "Inhabiting Your Skin" wasn't, as it happened, the final title - by mistake, I sent Apex the story with an earlier version of the title. By the time they responded, I'd realized that the final title was even worse, and told myself I would just try to think of a new title before the story was published.

Which didn't happen. Oh well. I can only say now that in my opinion - for what that's worth - the story is a bit better than the title. Enjoy!

Available for purchase today, the July issue of Nightmare Magazine, which includes my story "Death and Death Again." You can pick it up here. It's a little foray into pure, unadulterated horror.

And available for preorder today, Upgraded, an anthology of cyborg stories edited by Neil Clarke, containing my story, "Memories and Wire." You can preorder it here. The book should be available later this month; I'm really looking forward to seeing the other stories in it.

That both these pieces are appearing in the same month is a fun coincidence, given their somewhat similar themes and tinges of horror. Well, ok, in the first story, not tinges so much as outright horror.

(The other little story coming out this month from Daily Science Fiction is something else entirely, but more on that later.)

Some science fiction writers spend their time sending off hopeful submission after hopeful submission hoping to rake in the money. Others, after a few years of this, say, screw this. I'm starting a religion.

Ok, maybe just one went with option two.

L. Ron Hubbard seems to have led a colorful life before deciding to go the religion route. I say, seems, because as Lawrence Wright's Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood and the Prison of Belief notes, the details of Hubbard's early life are not entirely clear and may have been partly made up. It appears, however, that Hubbard did spend a lot of time travelling, was at least in the military (disputes about his military record form a large section of his book), was extremely successful at selling science fiction to pulp magazines, was abysmal to at least two of his three wives (and according to this book cheated extensively on all three of them), made friends with various science fiction writers and enemies of others (the quotes from L. Sprague de Camp are among the book's highlights) and founded a religion. Of sorts.

One reason Scientology has had issues obtaining official "religious" status is that many of its elements do seem to come from pure space opera – not surprisingly, given Hubbard's background. Wright details the more, um, interesting of these, while also noting that the earlier stages of Scientology – the ones advertised in those endless Dianetics commercials years back, have a combined quasi scientific and "Buddhist" feel. (I'm not sure that either Wright or Hubbard knows much about Buddhism.) The whole "reading" thing (to really oversimplify and risk the wrath of Scientologists, a machine that "reads" your energy as you kinda work through your memories and your problems going "up" various levels until, as the book's title has it, you are "clear,") is encased in scientific wording; the reincarnation is...well, it's not really Buddhism; the space opera stuff is pure pulp fiction. Ahem.

(Sidenote: MS Word is ok with Scientology, but not Dianetics. JUST SAYING.)

This science fiction background helps explain why John Campbell, editor of Astounding for one, was an early adherent. Heinlein, however, was more skeptical, and eventually even Campbell backed off. But the science fiction writers backed off for multiple reasons. Scientology thrived, as Wright documents, by finding adherents in Hollywood, and by taking many of its most devoted followers on ships where they could be more easily controlled. In Wright's version – and in the testimony of many ex-Scientologists – the Scientologists engaged in frequent physical and emotional abuse of its members and engaged in techniques similar to brain washing (although Wright also notes some skepticism about whether or not brainwashing actually exists.) Top Scientologists within the church hierarchy enjoyed luxuries not available to others. They became, in the terms of many, a cult (many anthropologists reading the book will be banging their heads against the nearest wall when they reach that point of the book, but moving on). Defenders noted that some of their critiqued behaviors are at least superficially similar to some groups within the Catholic Church, which has a history of indulging some of its top leaders (hi, Vatican) and practicing self-flagellation in some groups. And, of course, Scientology could offer the hope of making connections in Hollywood.

It's easy to see why the Church of Scientology objects to this book. Wright scrupulously includes comments from multiple people, perhaps most notably Kristie Alley, who claim to have been helped by Scientology, and discusses Narconon, a Scientology program many people credit with breaking their drug addictions. Wright also scrupulously notes multiple denials from the Church and from various lawyers for John Travolta and Tom Cruise. (It's safe to say that Travolta and Cruise's attorneys would still not be happy with the final result.) But these denials and legal statements are generally buried in footnotes, and some of the more questionable negative stories about Scientology, like this one:

David Mayo was sent to the RPF. He was made to run around a pole in the searing desert for twelve hours a day, until his teeth fell out.

are presented without skepticism. The endnote for this anecdote credits an interview with Bent Corydon, a biographer who worked with Hubbard's estranged son Ronald DeWolf to write a biography that the Church of Scientology strongly disputes. I'm willing to admit that running around a pole in the searing desert for twelve hours could cause all sorts of medical issues, but unless David Mayo had prior major dental issues (the text doesn't say) I don't think that teeth falling out is one of them. "Collapse" or "death," sure. Teeth falling out....maybe not.

And although attorneys for Cruise and Travolta apparently reviewed sections of the book (and objected), other attorneys and celebrities did not, most notably Kristie Alley and two of Cruise's wives, Nicole Kidman and Katie Holmes. Given that Alley was reportedly a witness to some of the events Wright mentions, and Kidman and Holmes form a part of the allegations against Cruise in this book, this seems a bit odd. (None of the three are portrayed in a negative light; it just seems odd.)

Wright has one or two odd moments elsewhere. For instance, in his comparison of Scientology and the Catholic Church (specifically Franciscan friars), he claims that unlike Scientologists, Franciscans can enter or leave their orders without needing to cut off contact with friends and family. This has not always historically been true. (And going beyond the Franciscans, it's not always true today for some enclosed orders.) It's a minor slip, but it makes me wonder what other minor slips are in there. And from a narrative point of view, it might have been better to tell the story in a straightforward way, rather than beginning with screenwriter Paul Haggis, going back in time to Hubbard's life, then forward to Haggis, then back to Hubbard and so on. It's not particularly difficult to follow; it just made the book feel, how do I put this? More literary and less detached. I was also annoyed by Wright's continued avoidance of the word "bisexual" – come on, Wright, it's 2013. Some people are gay, some people are straight, some people are John Travolta, and some people are bisexual.

I suspect most of you will be intrigued by all of the Hollywood gossip – I felt new levels of compassion for Kidman and Holmes (I told you Cruise's attorney would not like this book.) Speculative fiction writers, on the other hand, may be more interested in the tidbits at the beginning of the book – the bits where Hubbard is hanging out with the Heinleins and Campbell and so on. Also the bits where Hubbard seems to have been involved with a group that took its guidance from Alistair Crowley, because, you know, Satanism. This is all great stuff and frankly I found the IRS battles and the Hollywood gossip, even with the brainwashings, forced separation from spouses, parading potential spouses in front of Tom Cruise and so on kinda boring in comparison. My quibbles aside, fascinating read. Recommended.

Even post a nap I was pretty out of it yesterday evening, so instead of writing, I decided to give up and just watch some mindless TV. Hulu had been suggesting this little thing called The Booth at the End (link to Hulu for American viewers), which sounded mindless enough, so I clicked on that.

Two and a half riveting hours later, I sat, enthralled and stunned, and realizing that whatever this was, it was not mindless TV.

The Booth at the End has a simple enough premise. A man sits at the booth at the end of the diner (thus the title), eating and drinking and occasionally scribbling in a notebook. As he does, various people come up to him, occasionally making mysterious statements about pastrami sandwiches, and ask for his help with a problem. He listens, and offers a deal. If they do X, they will have what they want.

But they have to tell him about how they did (or didn't) do X. That's also part of the deal.

And so, they come back, again and again, to talk about their progress. Or lack thereof.

The tasks range from simple (help ten old ladies cross the street) to hellish (set off a bomb in a crowded café; the old lady trying to do this to restore her Alzheimer's stricken husband remarks with wonder that Google really can tell you anything). Others turn out to be more complicated than originally thought (bank robbing). And some lead to other tasks.

But, as the man in the booth explains, whether they do the task or not is entirely up to them. All he does is make the deal.

In between deals, a waitress tries to chat him up.

The Booth at the End was filmed on the cheap, and it shows. The show has only one set (the diner) which I'm fairly sure, given the lack of variety of camera angles, was an actual diner, not a set built to look like a diner, along with a couple of (frankly unnecessary) brief exterior shots of the diner. Lights are turned off and on to give us night and daylight shots, and one or two scenes have some technical lighting issues (I think they were filmed either in the morning or the afternoon when the light was wrong). The film editing could occasionally use a little work. People eat food and drink stuff and a glass gets broken, but otherwise, that's about it for set costs.

And, let's face it, the dual premises – dealing with the devil, and just how far will people go for what they want, are not, shall we say, exactly original, and some of the storylines and twists are predictable. (Some.) And some of the storylines - well, they may not be for everyone.

Which doesn't make the show any less compelling and watchable, thanks to an intelligent, taut script with often brilliant dialogue, and brilliant acting, particularly from the guy playing the man in the booth (possibly known to some of you as the guy also playing Percy in the current version of Nikita, although he's much, much better here), who manages a neat blend of reassurance, interest, menace and cynicism. Parts are brutal. Parts are creepy. Parts are funny. Parts put a lump in my throat.

And the ending. I can't really say much without spoilers, except to say it pulled off the rare trick of leaving me both completely satisfied and completely guessing. Yes. Both.

So. I'm enthusiastic.

But I'm also bringing this up because once it was over, I couldn't stop thinking about a certain cable television channel that has loftily told us that it needs to cut back on its original genre programming because of budge concerns. And a certain broadcast television channel that has happily splurged money on a mindless genre show where four episodes in (yes, I'm behind) dinosaurs are still not eating nearly enough people. (And by "people" I mean most of the cast except for the soldier running the compound who is pretty cool but I digress.)

Look, I'm not denying that genre shows can benefit from a decent budget. (See, Game of Thrones, and to a lesser extent, this year's Grimm and Once Upon a Time.) Nor I am denying that sudden budget cuts can harm genre shows (hi, Season Four of Fringe).

But I am saying, enough with the bullshit that you can only make decent genre shows with money. What you need for a decent genre show is thought. And if you don't believe me, well go watch The Booth at the End. You should probably do so anyway.

As if to directly contradict my recent protests that I'm really a fantasy/horror writer, not a science fiction writer, Everyday Weirdness has published my latest flash fiction story, Shifting.

Not that the lines between fantasy/science fiction/horror are all that defined, of course, and not that I don't intend to spend time blurring those lines still further in the future.

Anyway, enjoy!

So, since I'll be spending time with a major Stargate fan today, I figured it was about time I shared my opinions about the latest Stargate installment. And what I've got is a giant Meh.

( Meh! Meh! I spoil you with Meh! )