Monday, 30 December 2024

Micro-interview with Jonathan Olfert

We’re joined for this week’s micro-interview by Jonathan Olfert, author of “Whiskey Mud” in The Future Fire #71.


Art © 2024 Cécile Matthey

TFF: What does “Whiskey Mud” mean to you?

Jonathan Olfert: I guess at the level past 'no institution will ever love you (back)' and 'elephants are people too,' it's about how our level of intelligence waxes and wanes, and how frightening it can be to be less intelligent than you were yesterday, with worse judgment. Maybe that's not a universal experience but I think it's a pretty common fear that we don't really talk about.

TFF: This is the second futuristic elephant story you've put in TFF; would it ever be possible for us to start treating the other sapient species on our planet as equals?

JO: Equal in dignity maybe, at an individual level, but I'm enough of a cynic about institutions writ large to say no. I think the main common element of those two stories is that although Chalt and Sara travel farther than any of their species ever have, it's always on others' terms and mediated by others' opinions of their limits and possibilities and dignity.

TFF: If you had to invite the protagonist of your current work-in-progress to dinner, what would you cook for them?

JO: That would be the turncoat tithe collector Ander Carmora, wandering the red-grass prairies between the Churchlands and the Five Deserts, and he'd be ravenous for anything that's not roast jackal. I make a decent lentil curry off the Curries With Bumbi channel, so let's roll with that.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

JO: I mean, 'never pay a submission fee' is evergreen, but I'll go with 'cut yourself some slack, your best day's tomorrow.'

TFF: What are you working on next?

JO: I'm just wrapping up that story and I'm starting to feel the itch to write another one. Seeing a few Carmora stories come out over the next year will probably light a fire under me. And since most of those stories stem from my feelings about authoritarianism, I'm guessing I won't run short of inspiration anytime soon.


Extract:

Hanging from thirty-seven cables in his nutrient tank, Chalt missed the churning skies of home. The billion metal shards in low orbit, just barely too small to see individually—even with thick lenses—made the starscape wriggle. The whole sky sloshed around from dusk to late morning. If you saw the moon in daylight, its dusty craterscape itched and twinkled as LEO debris skidded past.

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Thursday, 19 December 2024

Microinterview with Rachel Rodman

We welcome Rachel Rodman, author of the poem “Two Hybrids” in The Future Fire #71, for a brief chat in the microinterview series.


Art © 2024 Fluffgar

TFF: What does “Two Hybrids” mean to you?

Rachel Rodman: I love hybridization.

The most exciting kind of creativity combines elements that are infrequently combined. I also love the stylistic challenge of merging objects and identities from different sources: Froggie’s sword + the runcible spoon; a winged creature + a half-amphibian who hunts dragonflies, pooling their talents to survive a long journey through the sky. (Many more examples can be found in my recent book, Mutants and Hybrids, which was published by Underland Press.)

“Two Hybrids” is also exciting to me because it feels like a breakthrough. It is one of several projects that began as a short story. For a very long time, I worked and reworked these pieces, getting nowhere. Eventually, however, it occurred to me to convert these failed stories to poems.

After that, things went quickly.

TFF: What are you working on now?

RR: More poetry. More short fiction.

I am also working on a long-form, “quantum fiction” project. In quantum fiction, events are both happening and not happening. When one outcome occurs, so does its opposite. (An early example of quantum fiction is a story called “Schrödinger's Fever,” which was published in Why Vandalism?) Quantum fiction is non-linear. It is internally contradictory. Within this genre, the usual stylistic divisions don’t make sense.

Poetry? Prose?

When my writing feels most authentic, these categories stop mattering.


Extract:

When her parents die,
she converts
the pea-green boat
to
a pair of prosthetics—
wooden extensions of her own wings
(which are only half sized).

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Tuesday, 17 December 2024

Microinterview with Sebastian Timpe

Sebastian Timpe, artist of “Deep Sea Baby” and cover artist of The Future Fire #71, joins us for this week’s microinterview.

Art © Sebastian Timpe 2024

TFF: How did you go about illustrating “Deep Sea Baby”?

Sebastian Timpe: This was a very interesting piece to approach from a visual perspective, it had two stories going in it and one of them is a conversation with no visual elements attached. After reading it once I knew the first illustration had to be the white flowers in the lungs. It was such a striking visual. For the second illustration I decided to do a travel poster because the vacation aspect of the location seemed very important to the story.

TFF: How do you go about visualizing the truly alien?

ST: I use a lot of reference material in my work so visualizing something outside our world is very difficult. I prefer to play with strange versions of our reality, like the jellied mushrooms or the indigo sky.

TFF: Is there a difference for you between creating artwork to order, and composing purely from your own imagination?

ST: For me the deadline is the largest difference. Working on my own projects I'll often pick them up and put them down on a whim/when the inspiration strikes. Creating artwork to order means I have to actually finish it!

TFF: What or who would you most like to draw, paint, sculpt or photograph?

ST: I've just gotten into Dragon Age so I will probably be doing some fan art in the future.


Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Thursday, 12 December 2024

Microinterview with Vanessa Fogg

We’re delighted to chat today with Vanessa Fogg, author of “That Small, Hard Thing on the Back of Your Neck” in The Future Fire #71.


Art © 2024 Ellis Bray
TFF: What does “That Small, Hard Thing on the Back of Your Neck” mean to you?

Vanessa Fogg: To me, this story is about the masks/skins that we all wear. The ways we pretend to better fit in, to get along, for status and popularity and ease of living and maybe even (for some people) sheer survival. And it’s also about the psychic costs of living that way.

TFF: What are you working on next?

VF: I admit that I’ve been blocked for a few months now. But I’m trying to write a short (and maybe satirical?) horror piece now, and I’m excited about some earlier stories I wrote that should be coming out in 2025 or so—including a tale about a Faerie prince touring our modern world and going viral on social media, a story about the search for immortality (based on Chinese myths and legends), and what I think of as a little weird horror piece where a Eurydice-figure talks her lover into the Land of the Dead.


Extract:

You are thirteen and in the shower when you find it. A hard, dangly little thing, like a tag, stuck to the back of your neck. It’s stuck just where your neck bones merge into your back, between your shoulders. Reflexively, you try to brush it away, swat it off, as you would to a bug. It stays stuck. Hot water sluices over you, and the thing is slick and hard to grasp, but you manage. The thing feels like metal. It’s small and rectangular, and there’s a little round opening at the top, where the tip of your finger fits.

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Tuesday, 10 December 2024

Microinterview with L.E. Badillo

Today our old friend L.E. Badillo, artist of “In the Field” in The Future Fire #71, dropped by for the next installment in our microinterview series.

Art © 2024 L.E. Badillo

TFF: How did you go about illustrating “In the Field”?

L.E. Badillo: “In the Field” had some nuclear fallout vibes and I tried to portray a toxic atmosphere humans could not directly interact with. I tried representing this with a yellowish background and smokey textures.

TFF: What else are you working on now?

LEB: Besides my artwork, I'm exploring interactive fiction with programs like Inky and Twine. Hopefully, I can join a team and make a game or at least release some small games in the near future.


Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Thursday, 5 December 2024

Micro-interview with Faith Allington

We’re joined today by Faith Allington, author of “Deep Sea Baby” in The Future Fire #71.


Art © 2024 Sebastian Timpe

TFF: What does “Deep Sea Baby” mean to you?

Faith Allington: The title comes from Marika Hackman's haunting cover of the song “I Follow Rivers”; the longing in it really resonated. From a character perspective, my story is about familial love and grief, how these can change the landscape of ourselves until we are unrecognizable. From a plot perspective, it's about our planet's changing climate and a future where humanity is no longer the dominant species.

TFF: If we encountered an alien intelligence (from another world, or from an undiscovered part of our own), would we ever be able to communicate with them?

FA: I think humans can be excellent at communication, and once we got over the shock, we could find a way to communicate with them. Assuming they'd want to talk to us.

TFF: What are you working on next?

FA: I'm revising a feminist horror novel so I can query it, and in the meantime, working on a short horror story about a young woman who gets a summer internship at an unusual new cemetery.


Extract:

The sea is glassy and lustrous with moonlight when Johanna arrives. The vacation town of Fairhaven’s only hotel crouches on the shore, bold lines blurring to ghostlike in the dark. The air is pure salt, corroding her skin and etching her lungs as she watches the indigo horizon.

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Tuesday, 3 December 2024

Micro-interview with Cécile Matthey

Cécile Matthey, artist of “Whiskey Mud” in The Future Fire #71 and TFF’s in-house artist, joins us for a micro-interview.

Art © 2024 Cécile Matthey

TFF: How did you go about illustrating “Whiskey Mud”?

Cécile Matthey: Another story involving elephants ! Of course, I couldn't resist drawing them. I found a lovely photo of two elephants lying in the water, seemingly having a conversation. I used it as a model for one of the illustrations. The second illustration was more complicated… I wanted to show Chalt as a brain, in his pool of nutrient fluid. But I wanted it to look pretty… As I often do, I turned to the natural world. Given the shape of the elephant's brain, the idea of a sort of seashell came quite naturally. As for the cables, they were suggested to me by the water lilies, whose very long stems plunge deep into the water. The two fish are a wink: they are called ‘brain fish.’

TFF: Can you tell us about an artist whose work you're particularly enjoying at the moment?

CM: It's a writer: I fell in love with Pierre Pevel's book Les enchantements d'Ambremer. The story takes place in a refreshing Parisian steampunk universe, packed with classic references, reminiscent of Maurice Leblanc (Arsène Lupin), Jules Verne, and of the finest adventure films. There is a whole trilogy, called Le Paris des Merveilles. I have seen it has even been "translated" into comic books. I'm definitely going to read one!

TFF: What else are you working on now?

CM: I am working hard on my collages. I have the opportunity to exhibit them next year in a local bookshop. It's quite a challenge! (Some examples can be seen here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/caeciliana/53155901622/in/photostream/.)


Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Thursday, 28 November 2024

Micro-interview with Shelly Jones

We welcome Shelly Jones, author of “In the Field” in TFF #71, for a short chat about her story, aliens, writing and cosy mysteries!


Art © 2024 L.E. Badillo

TFF: What does “In the Field” mean to you?

Shelly Jones: My day job is as a professor at a small college. I wrote “In the Field” thinking about how future AI/robotics might change my day to day life as an educator. I am forever fascinated by the persistence of life, of the ways we can continue despite the world crumbling around us. I am also interested in the ways we need to pivot and re-define what's been in front of us the whole time as a method of survival, of resistance.

TFF: Would you like to meet aliens from another world?

SJ: While I don't believe in little green men versions of aliens, I do believe there must be some kind of other life out there in the vast beyond. If they ever encountered earth, I hope they'd find humans to be kind and empathetic creatures.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

SJ: To be persistent and remember to just get words on the page. You can always go back and change those words, find shinier, prettier, more perfect words—but you can't if there are no words to begin with.

TFF: What are you working on next?

SJ: A bit of a shift in genre! I'm working on my cozy mystery series about a board game shop owner and her femme gaming group. If you like nerdy, game-related puns, look for the first in the series, which debuts in Fall 2025.


Extract:

The professor pulls down a shoebox of cassette tapes from the bookcase. Her office is full of boxes like this on every shelf, stacks in the corner waist-high. Her life’s work: collecting the voices of people who no longer exist. I look at the delicate ribbons loose in their cartridges and consider that my ancestors were once made of such crude materials, reels of magnetic tape spooling their thoughts.

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Tuesday, 26 November 2024

Micro-interview with Devan Barlow

Devan Barlow, author of the poem “A Moon Witch Seeks a Shell” in The Future Fire #71, joins us for the first in this season’s micro-interviews.


Art © 2024 Melkorka

TFF: What does “A Moon Witch Seeks a Shell” mean to you?

Devan Barlow: This poem is part of a series of lunarpunk pieces I’ve been writing about these moon witches. Each piece helps me sort out a little more about the setting and the characters, and in this instance gave me the chance to combine two of my favorite things—lunarpunk and sea creatures.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

DB: Keep reading—and reading things that aren’t the genre you’re working in.


Extract:

On the opposite shore, I hope
another moon witch
convinces a mollusk our cause is just
Sometimes, the most difficult conversations are those
between witches upon the same moon

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/10/new-issue-202471.html.

Monday, 11 November 2024

My Augmentation: A Look at Star Trek: Discovery’s Airiam

Guest post by Jordan Hirsch

[CW: mental health issues]

Picture it: a Family-Feud-style board. Steve Harvey at the mic. A studio audience silent and waiting. The question: what comes to mind when thinking about Star Trek?

Survey says: space, utopia, starships, Vulcans.

Mental health? [X]

Disability representation? [X]

Bodily autonomy [X]

While these are good answers and cases could be made for each of them when looking at specific episodes, none of the above have historically been major themes in the long-running franchise.

But let’s rewind from the 23rd century back to 2018.

The past six years have been some of the hardest of my life. I won’t go into too much detail, but between religious trauma, broken relationships, and losing what I thought was my dream job on top of the ongoing pandemic, the necessary civil uprising here in Minnesota after George Floyd was murdered, and the general despair of our political climate, my mental health plummeted. This manifested in depression and anxiety disorder, which my nervous system translated to vertigo-like symptoms, digestion issues, some agoraphobia, and probably other things I’ll realize down the road weren’t normal for me.

I don’t share this laundry list of experiences for pity, but for context and solidarity with anyone who might be dealing with something similar.

It took more than two years to discover the above symptoms were due to my anxiety disorder, after finally seeking medication during a ten-day, unrelenting panic attack. I was prescribed an SSRI, and let me tell you, I wish I’d started it so much sooner. At the time, though, I experienced what I now know so many others have when starting medication for their mental well-being.

Was I a failure? Weak? Would I be taking these pills for the rest of my life?

Would I even be myself while on these meds?

Should I survey 100 people to see what they said, top 6 answers on the board? Thankfully, answers for me lay elsewhere.

Star Trek: Discovery, which just wrapped its fifth and final season a few months ago, reignited the franchise when it came on our screens in 2017. In many ways, it truly went where no Star Trek had gone before. From the first on-screen canon gay couple to re-designed Klingons to darker and grittier storylines, Discovery paved its own frontier.

Other Trek series have dipped their toes into themes of mental health before, in episodes such as “It’s Only a Paper Moon” of Deep Space Nine, “Extreme Risk” of Voyager, and season 3 of Enterprise. However, these arcs were contained, leaving little to no lasting effects that would come up for characters later in the series. Discovery, however, tackled these issues with multiple characters over multiple seasons, and one in particular has made a lasting impression on me as I’ve navigated my own health.

Airiam is a quiet and steady member on Discovery’s bridge. Unfortunately, for most of the first season and half, we don’t get to know much about her. She’s dutiful, she’s smart, she’s dependable. She has friends on the ship, and she’s even third in command. She also has a tragic backstory.

When returning from eloping, Airiam was in a tragic shuttle accident that damaged most of her body and killed her husband. To stay alive, she had to be cybernetically augmented, with most of her body needing to be artificial. Now, Airiam’s brain can’t store memories properly, and when her artificial storage reaches capacity, she has to choose which memories to delete and which ones to keep.

None of this stopped her, however. She still pursued her Starfleet career, she still spars and trains with shipmates, she still rocks at board game night.

Airiam lives on her own terms, and (spoilers) heroically, she dies on her own terms as well, sacrificing herself after becoming infected by a malicious AI.

We see a lot of on-screen deaths in Discovery, but we rarely see any post-death ceremonies. However, we do get to see Airiam’s funeral, and during that time, her crewmates share what she meant to them, speaking of her impact, her resilience, her loyalty, and her outlook on life.

However, it was what Airiam’s friend and Discovery’s pilot Keyla Detmer said that puts my own sentiments into words: “[Airiam] showed me that my augmentation didn’t make me an imitation of myself. It made both of us new, that there could be a future.” You see, Keyla had been injured in the Klingon War, losing an eye and having her own augmentation.

Her words cut right to my core as I questioned if starting medication would alter my identity.

The analogy isn’t perfect; they never are. But what is perfect is the way this character gave me permission to need my own augmentation, the way she assured me I’d still be me, even while on medication.

My SSRIs aren’t permanent like Airiam’s augmentations. I can change my dose, stop taking them, choose something else with my doctor’s advice and supervision. But even if they do need to be a tool in my toolbox for the rest of my life, that doesn’t mean that I’m less myself. That doesn’t mean I’ve failed or I’ve forsaken all or part of who I am. On the contrary, I’m more myself than I’ve been in a very long time.

Would I have made it here without Airiam?

The optimist in me likes to think so. But I owe the Star Trek: Discovery writers and creators and the two actresses that played Airiam (Sara Mitich and Hannah Cheesman) so much for making this journey easier for me. For helping me embrace what proper medication could do for my brain, my body, my life. For showing me that an augmented me is still entirely me. For giving me permission to, once again, live life on my own terms.


Jordan Hirsch’s poetry chapbook, Both Worlds, is available from Bottlecap Press (https://bottlecap.press/products/both).

Jordan Hirsch writes speculative fiction and poetry while occupying the ancestral and current homelands of the Dakota people, Mni Sota Makoce. She is a recent graduate of Concordia University’s MFA in Creative Writing program and is a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association. You can find more of Jordan’s work on her website (jordanrhirsch.wordpress.com).

Sunday, 20 October 2024

New issue: 2024.71

“Europeans brought with them the view that men were the absolute head of households, and women were to be submissive to them. It was then that the role of women in Cherokee society began to decline. One of the new values Europeans brought to the Cherokees was a lack of balance and harmony between men and women. It was what we today call sexism. This was not a Cherokee concept. Sexism was borrowed from Europeans.”

—Maria Mankiller

[ Issue 2024.71; Cover art © 2024 Sebastian Timpe ]Issue 2024.71

Short stories

Poetry

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB

Full issue and editorial

Tuesday, 3 September 2024

Micro-interview with Joel Bisaillon

Joel Bisaillon, artist of “Transmogrification” in The Future Fire #70, is with us for the next in this season of micro-interviews.

Art © 2024 Joel Bisaillon

TFF: How did you go about illustrating “Transmogrification”?

Joel Bisaillon: I have to be honest. It wasn’t easy. Like any piece you try to do the author justice by honoring their work with the best of your understanding. Having chosen most of my labels as a goth/punk kid, I’ve understood the labelling others cast out towards me, but I know that mine was personally elected. This isn’t that whatsoever. This is part of the character's core being and to get that right without falling into a caricature of what a straight white male might project isn’t the easiest. I want to ensure the protagonist is respected, and the story is honoured. So, in short with more hearty and thinky than arty.

TFF: What is the thing you lost and wish you could find again?

JB: Focus.

TFF: How do you imagine early digital graphics will be seen by future art historians?

JB: Unfortunately, I don’t think that digital art will be that significant to future artists or historians. I know it’s a bleak outlook but with the advent of generative AI instilling the acceptance of demanding unearned rewards without learning the skills to do so, and the fact that one can simply copy/paste digital art we have lost the ability to be enamoured by its uniqueness. Art Historians (should they recover from this) will see a “dark ages” loom over this time saturated with big-breasted inbred anime girls corrupted by the generation loss of AI feeding upon its product like Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son.

TFF: Have you ever seen a piece of art that you wished was alive?

JB: I know I’m an odd duck for this but Diane Arbus’ photograph – Child with Toy Hand Grenade. That kid has seen some shit and needs to unleash it.

TFF: Can you tell us about an artist whose work you're particularly enjoying at the moment?

JB: Recently I’ve been enjoying the old pulp horror/sci-fi art of weird tales and one of my favorites is Lee Brown Coye. Amazing macabre black and white ink works yet whimsical.

TFF: What else are you working on now?

JB: Besides my own webcomic Eirgsmoth, I’ve a few projects due for Roses & Wildflowers Magazine. Oh and still trying to quit my day job.


Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2024/07/new-issue-202470.html.