Syrian Refugees

“One does not ask of one who suffers: What is your country and what is your religion? One merely says: You suffer, that is enough for me.” – Louis Pasteur

If you agree with Pasteur and you’re a US Citizen click here to do something about suffering.

I’ve been avoiding my computer for a couple of days now. My avoidance is a result of finding myself at the end of my rope. After posting this IOTD images of a drowned toddler who washed ashore began to come up in my searches about the refugee crisis happening in Southern Europe.

When your little boy is running around asking you to play with him, you do your best to pay attention to him. Perhaps he wants to break out the Legos or, like this morning, maybe he just wants to help you with what you’re doing. So you let him, you encourage him when and where you can, but you protect him.

You know how fragile his little life is because you were there when he showed up. You hold his hand in the parking lot. You wash off the dirt that might have lead in it before he can ingest it. You worry about him the moment he’s out of sight. At least, I do.

So imagine what my imagination is doing after seeing this.

My heart is sick of enduring this toxicity. Our heart, humanity’s heart, seems rotten. Making matters still worse, it is no longer possible to silently shoulder my remorse and growing sadness since the public nature of information and the subsequent boundless commentary that comes along with it, is with me at all times. Lacking empathy and imagination, so many of us become stone, refusing to be touched by tragedy. I tuck my phone in a drawer and close the screen on my laptop.

When I was a kid, back in the late 70’s, my parents took in a family of refugees from Vietnam & Cambodia. They lived in the basement of our house for a while; I don’t recall how long. I do recall that they did things very differently than I was used to, waking up to dried fish cooking in a hot wok was probably my first multicultural experience. My parents gave those people a way out, they made a broad impact in the lives of many strangers.

Now, a lifetime away from those days sitting in curiosity at the top of the stairs to the basement, I feel my inability to effect meaningful change. To simply make things liveable if not somehow better. I’m not a religious person, not even a little bit, but there is at least one passage from the Bible that I think bears repeating.

“[27] But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, [28] bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. [29] If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. [30] Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. [31] Do to others as you would have them do to you.” – Luke 6:27-31

This petition at hopes to “resettle at least 65,000 Syrians by 2016.” It is possible that many or most of them would be kept in refugee camps until they could be matriculated, but that has to be better than dying at sea or in a war-torn country. And signing a petition is literally the least you could do.

These people need immediate relief. The US State Department estimates that there are globally 15.4 million refugees. Syrians make up nearly a quarter of that, and that’s how FUBAR things are there. But our system isn’t much better is it? Elected officials count their coup, pundits make their petty points, and these people are dying. These children are dying. None of this is just or right.


Warning: not everyone is going to want to watch this video.

On August 26th the Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) rescue ship, the Bourbon Argos, rescued about 800 refugees from Tunisia and Syria. I chose this video, in part, because of the subject matter of the most recent story I’ve just completed. And also, because this rescue operation does not end in tragedy.

Ladies and gentlemen, the distance that separates most of us from this sort of fate is so precariously thin. I’ve spent years designing and building fault tollerant computer systems for Microsoft; take it from me when I tell you that the lifestyle you enjoy is likely one or two steps removed from a catastrophic systems failure. That’s a scary thought and most of us would rather just not entertain notions of this sort. Which is why, I believe, it’s so difficult for us to pay attention to the plight of others who must contemplate such measures.

The joy these people show at being plucked from the Meditarrianian should inspire you. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it goads you on. I hope the faces of these people compel you to examine your compassion and your own humanity. I hope you go find a way to help (even if all you do is politely ignore guys like Scott Walker and Donald der Trump). But they are happy to simply be alive, and that’s a boundless sort of elation.

The short story I’ve just completed, (working title is “Goat”) has me thinking about this sort of thing. The storm and brief power outage we just weathered this weekend and me thinking about what life is going to be like for my kids. I think that there is every reason to find out how deep our bucket of generosity is; to discover how much we can help.

Conan vs Man-Bear-Pig

Conan vs MBP

Conan vs. Man-Bear-Pig

Warning: Hereafter, you will find more Hugo derp. If you’re tired of it, uninterested, or annoyed with terms like “fandom,” “Puppies” or “Literary Science Fiction” don’t bother reading past this warning. No, I mean it. Go. Get. Be gone.

I ran into a manifesto this evening; it got me hot and bothered. Ken Burnside, nominated as part of both Puppies slates, wrote “How The Hugos Crashed” and posted it to Facebook and G+. I ran into it and ended up reading about half of it. It is, broadly, his take on the awards ceremony, his expectations going into it, and his experience once there. There are a lot of personal impressions given, and it is pretty obvious that he didn’t feel welcomed. 

As far as I’m concerned I feel thusly: “Man, that’s a shame for him” and “I’m sure glad I stayed home this year.” The first feeling comes from my apprehension and anxiety when attending conventions. I know how difficult it is to show up to a place you know will be jam-packed with strangers. All of them talking to one another for a whole weekend. I never know if I’m interrupting someone or bothering them, although I genuinely want to be part of the party.

Every time I attend a convention my social anxiety levels shoot through the top of my skull. I usually need to spend the first couple of hours roaming back and forth between my hotel room and the convention floor, just to stay near sanity. Maybe this isn’t exactly what Burnside says he feels in his manifesto, but that’s what I read between his lines. Yeah, it can be difficult to talk to new people, even when you share something in common with them as being a writer. I’d wager that it exponentially harder when you sign a publication deal with Castalia House and/or willing “sign up for the Sad Puppies slate.”

The second feeling is just me patting myself on the back for avoiding that sensation, a personal creeping dread. I spent most of last week looking at pictures and reading accounts of all the keen times many of you had, and to be completely honest, I felt jealous. But, Burnside’s reminder was enough for me to remember that the drive to Spokane would have been an internal wrestling match between my anxiety and my excitement. Given my current state of being, I’m not certain which one would have prevailed. It’s likely that I would have shown up to the awards a complete wreck, so in the end I’m glad I saved the money and worked on my next story.

That said, I’m mature enough to know that few of you go out of your way to make me feel that way, excluded or unwelcome. I know other authors are just as busy as I am, and most of you dive into the spirit of the convention without bothering to stick a toe in the water. If you’re not friendly to me I try not to take it personally; maybe you’ve been waiting half a year to talk to someone else, and perhaps you don’t know me from the crowd. So meh, your loss. I’ll be at the bar, and we can catch up later.

While I was thinking about the above, I encountered this passage. Okay, I tripped over this loaded statement and may have spewed hot tea out a nostril or two as a result. Say what?

For a large part of SF readers (as opposed to organized fans), the Heroic Engineer Story IS SF “the way it should be.” The Martian by Andy Weir, soon to be a major motion picture starring Ben Affleck, is the Platonic ideal of the Heroic Engineer Story.

On the surface, I would tend to agree with this statement. I greatly enjoy this kind of story. While not my favorite, I enjoyed Andy Weir’s “The Martian.” Some problem happens, protagonists suffer, but eventually through ingenuity and grit our heroes prevail. A great deal of what I read and what I write qualifies. Some of my favorites — Old Man’s War, Science in the Capital, The Martian Trilogy, even the many members of the Vorkosigan Saga — all have protagonists who look under the hood. My television and movie watching is dominated by shows where a protagonist struggles to make stuff work. My favorite Star Treks episodes all come from the Enterprise series, where nothing works as it should (and Trip has to sort it out). I love it when people call me “MattGuyver.” You know Mal is solid, but Kaylee is, dollars to donuts, the person pulling something heroic off.

Then comes Burnside’s primary thesis. Whoa there, hold your horses.

[T]he standard trope of the Heroic Engineer Story is that the reason the Engineer is Heroic is because he (and it’s almost always a ‘he’) is sidestepping his emotions (including fear) to Solve The Problem.

For the SF readers who are the target of the Heroic Engineer Story, there’s an intellectual thrill akin to reading a murder mystery in seeing how the problem is solved, and a comforting escapism from emotional nuance.

And here is where I take umbrage. Burnside would like us to believe that “Literary Science Fiction” (his term not mine) in which characters deal with their emotions must somehow remain mutually exclusive to the Heroic Engineer Story. He posits that “Literary fiction, left to its own devices, turns into tone poems about competitive navel gazing.” While the good stuff is good because it’s “comforting escapism from emotional nuance.”

“Bah, rubbish!” I say. To prove my point let us harken to the tales of Conan the Barbarian. The stoic monolith of a Man, the patron saint of Heroism, and genre fiction story written to The Target Audience.

In the many collected stories of Robert E. Howard, his protagonist invariably follows the formula described by Burnside. “Put character into a puzzle box, have Act I be about how [he] realize[s] how screwed [he is], have Act II be about making things worse, while getting the key needed to escape the puzzle box at the end of Act III.” (This is not my sentence, please don’t blame me.) And before anyone jumps down my throat, I realize Conan is a fantasy, but if pressed I can come up with many examples set in the future where high-technology is accessible.

The introduction to The Coming of Conan begins:

“Hither came Conan the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet.”

While I wouldn’t call that a “piece of symphonic music on a descriptive or rhapsodic theme the sentence has an unquestionable beauty. Read it aloud. I bet your ear enjoyed it. And lo, does this vivid introduction speak of depression and bliss? Aren’t those emotional states?

Conan never sidesteps his emotions. In fact, these things drive him to action are can be the cause of his failures. Because he feels, perhaps more than those around him, he is capable of more.

The same can be said of many of Puppy vaunted SF authors and their protagonists. Take this moment of self-reflection from Robert Heinline’s Rico in “Starship Troopers” for example.

“I could hear Colonel Dubois in my mind: ‘Citizenship is an attitude, a state of mind, an emotional conviction that the whole is greater than the part…and that the part should be humbly proud to sacrifice itself that the whole may live.’
“I still didn’t know whether I yearned to place my one-and-only body ‘between my loved home and the war’s desolation’ — I still got the shakes every drop and that ‘desolation’ could be pretty desolate.“

Folks, Heinlein gave you pride and humility coupled with self-doubt and a sense-of-place. He’s the one talking to you about duty, honor and an emotional commitment to your community. This is why we like his characters, this is what we can relate to when we read about Rico. Rico isn’t some alien simply fighting because a hive mind compels him into battle. He’s a human being who, in telling us his tale, bridges an emotional divide that separates us from one another.

I doubt very much that Heinlein ever contemplated writing a “comforting escapism from emotional nuance.” Sure, his action scenes are well developed and involving, but you could cut them from the book and still have a story worth reading.

My problem with this common Puppy meme isn’t just that it’s wrong. And it’s not that these bullheaded beefcake/gun-worshipers keep repeating this dichotomy — “beep boop, good SFF can’t be beautiful” — like a Borg mantra. And it’s not even its intrinsic sexist self-justification (girls can’t be popular heroes because that’s not popular). Rather, it is that they’re using this wholly false claim to turn SFF fandom on its head. They posit the existence of a benevolent tyranny.

Stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t like. You haven’t bothered to study the topic. As is evidenced by the nominations this year, you guys aren’t bothering to do the work. Your intent doesn’t come into it; if your hamhanded attempts to control other people’s tastes aren’t welcomed then you should console yourselves in the certain knowledge that at least you’ve discovered what you like.

Popular fiction becomes popular not because of your political leanings. If you want to write conservative Christian clap-trap or neo-Libertarian mythology divorced from any literary aesthetic, that’s your choice. Sure, you’ll find some readers, but not the very many readers you would touch should you bother to look at the world and notice where the rest of us are headed, how we feel, or where our sense of justice resides.

Popular fiction is excellent precisely because it brings readers into the story. This is impossible to do if you don’t offer readers a human context with which they’re at least somewhat familiar. The fact is that people have emotions. John McClane isn’t a compelling hero because he robotically annihilates the bad guys. We feel his pain when he steps barefooted into a room covered in broken glass and many of us can relate to his emotional struggle as he tries to rescue a wife who is ready to serve him divorce papers. He looks under the hood, yet McClane still feels love and hate, frustration and remorse. He’s conflicted and flawed and “yippee ki-yay motherfucker” he has emotions with which we can relate.

Sometimes we have to swallow our fear or deal with our anxieties, but those are emotional struggles all the same. Not bothering to write about these feelings is a lost opportunity and certainly isn’t going to get your manuscript picked up by anyone other than Castalia House. So very few of us can ignore joy or grief that when we find characters who do we meet them with skepticism. They are as unbelievable as the story of “Conan vs. Man-Bear-Pig: An untold tale for an excellent reason.”


Micah True “Caballo Blanco” Running Free

“I remember this photo of Ali, running along the beach, on the sand in combat boots, so his boxing shoes would feel lighter when he was in the ring. He said something about the fight being won in the gym, out on the road, long before he danced under the lights. Ali was my Hero. He’d rather go to prison, than go to war. I always respected him for that. He was a great fighter, and a great runner.”When I was 21/22 years old, I had been smoking lots of dope, drinking lots of booze, partying hard.
I always wanted to run free. And I wanted to do something. And, I couldn’t. It was hard. My throat was bleeding. I was panting and feeling like crap, and determined I did not ever want to feel that way again. I thought I was too young to feel that way. It was one of those turning points where you either live, or you start dying. I have had a few of those every seven or eight years. I go through the same thing. So, are you going to let it go, or are you going to live?”

-Micah True

Today’s inspiration is there to help you sure, but it’s more to kick myself in the shorts. Caballo was already an old horse when I ran into him, but as far as I could see he hadn’t been dying until he went.

Last November I hurt my back lifting a goddamned box of ski boots. I’ve been to the doctor, I’ve made trips to the PT, and I’ve even tried to get back out on the trail a handful of times since then. So, between the pains of growing a little older and that injury I’ve let my narrative diminish. I’ve watered it down with excuses.

I’ve always wanted to do something and now I’m not doing. Not doing anything. I feel like I’ve slipped and when I allow myself to think about it, even a little, I feel horribly depressed which makes all the aforementioned sensations feel that much worse.

Here’s the thing. I know what I need to do, I just need to find the cojones to do it. It’s going to be hard, but I’ve been through harder and even better I’ve got examples and heroes like Caballo to show me the way.

So, here I am. At this turning point.

Thanks Micah, much gratitude for showing me the way.


“Polar Bear in Tundra Bloom” – Dennis Fast

Today’s inspiration is very grounded. But despite being completely real, and an everyday occurrence at that, it’s all the more amazing because of its commonality. I’ll let you click through to the full story, but the summary is that a guy named Dennis Fast took some amazing images of polar bears frolicking in a bloom of arctic Chamerion angustifolium.

I love these creatures and I love that they live, eat and breath right through the harshest of winter conditions and well into the most spectacular of summer months. May they live and roam.


UPDATE: While this remains a really cool idea which has the potential to be a lot of fun for all involved I admit that it was a very last minute function. Turns out people have lives outside their writing and this weekend seems to be booked for just about everyone. That said, we’re going to stick a pin in this and save it for later.


Jim C. Hines just posted his WorldCon 2015 schedule; it looks a lot like mine. It turns out his schedule looks a lot like a lot of people’s. My off-hand joke, “Hey, who wants to do a reading from not-Sasquan?” is getting traction in the comments section, which is no joke.

Thus, to make it official, let me propose that those of us not going to Sasquan this year hold the first ever not-Sasquan online convention. Those of you at the actual convention are invited, but we understand if you’re too busy to join us.

Authors, who is up for some reading? We could do it Friday or Saturday evening via G+. I have no experience organizing such affairs, but I know people who do. You could be one of those folks.

I should also say that in no way is this idea meant to diminish the Hugo awards. Rather, it’s an alternative way to celebrate fandom. One that should be accessible to all of us even if we’re busy, lazy, and/or mildly horrified at that shenanigans surrounding the award this year.

Finally, may I interject a suggestion. I know we could get some big names to read for us, why not ask for donations we can funnel to a charity. Personally, I’d like to invoke the name of Jay Lake and point out that he routinely did gigs for the benefit of Freedom Dogs.