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