Micro-interview with Sean R. Robinson

We’re happy to have a chat with Sean R. Robinson, author of “Boxes Full of Memories” in The Future Fire #66, about fantastic fiction and nonfiction.

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TFF: What does “Boxes Full of Memories” mean to you?

Art © 2023 Fluffgar

Sean R. Robinson: I started writing professionally when the fantasy punk second wave started, authors like Catherynne Valente, Theodora Goss, Kelly Link and others took the work that was done by folks like Terri Windling and reinvigorated the idea of using myth and legend and fairy tale to address modern life. I have always thought that this made a lot of sense, and over the years I've had the opportunity to publish stories from an ongoing series I've called ‘Laundromat Fairy Tales,’ that have looked at issues from life through the lens of fairy tales. “Boxes Full of Memories” is, maybe, a step or two from those, but what do you do when your mother was the sea witch and she dies, leaving all of her stuff behind? A family member passed away several years ago, and the family had to discuss the dispensation of every spoon and fork and frying pan. It was important to them that it was done correctly, as a final act of love. That stuck with me, and found its way into these stories.

For folks interested, one of the other ‘Laundomat Fairy Tales’ has appeared in TFF: “Spindle Talk.”

TFF: If a fantastic creature asked you to tell them a story, which one would you pick?

SRR: My grandfather used to re-tell me the Three Little Pigs as a bedtime story. But I got to pick what the houses were made out of, and there sometimes featured a guest appearance by SuperPig who came and saved the day. I'd go with that, because why mess with the classics?

TFF: What are you working on next?

SRR: I'm in the death throes of a doctorate program, so most of my gray matter is headed to that. I'm currently picking at a Narnia / Those Who Walk Away from Omelas novel that is still in the planning stages, but it's been fun so far. I have a fantasy story (that's maybe a reimagining of Theseus and the Minotaur if you squint and look at it wideways) coming out from Kaleidotrope at the end of the year.

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Extract:

A mattress on the floor under the window, a beaded screen hiding the bathroom. The hotplate I’d gotten her for Christmas, a microwave that looked like it was about to burst into flames. A few plants that seemed to be doing well, even after weeks without water.

And boxes.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2023/07/new-issue-202366.html.

New Issue 2023.66

“This unrestrained exploitation of the common goods of nature does not generate wealth, but wears down and impoverishes the planet. It is time to fight for the good of humanity and for a new story.”

—Sônia Guajajara

Issue 2023.66

Short stories

• ‘One Day’, Frances Koziar - art by Sebastian Timpe
• ‘Boxes Full of Memories’, Sean R. Robinson - art by Fluffgar
• ‘Out of Bounds’, Anna Ziegelhof - art by Cécile Matthey
• ‘Between the Shadow and the Soul’, Davian Aw - art by Toeken

Poetry

• ‘The Fungal Force: A History’, Colleen Anderson - art by Melkorka
• ‘Mycelial’, Lisa Timpf - art by Dr T. Eratopo
• ‘Smells of Brine, Witching’, Devin Miller - art by Dr T. Eratopo

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB

New Issue: 2017.41

“We don't create a fantasy world to escape reality. We create it to be able to stay.”

—Lynda Barry

Issue 2017.41

Flash fiction

• ‘Spindle Talk’, Sean R. Robinson (illustrated by Toeken)

Short stories

• ‘Burning the Sinners with Lamplight’, Michelle Denham (illustrated by Eric Asaris)
• ‘Gurge’, Jason Baltazar (illustrated by Jason Baltazar)

Novelettes

• ‘Shadows in the Water’, Selena Martens (illustrated by Katharine A. Viola)
• ‘The Hulks’, Subodhana Wijeyeratne (illustrated by Miguel Santos)

Poetry

• ‘New Moon’, T.D. Walker (illustrated by Christina Cartwright)

Full issue and editorial

Download e-book version: EPUB | Mobi

Microsequel Monday! Rustwisdom

Rustwisdom

Rustsong, ten years on

Sean R. Robinson

This micro-sequel takes place ten years after the events of “Rustsong”, first published in 2015, and was written to celebrate the tenth anniversary of TFF. If you want to see more fiction like this in the future, please support our fundraiser where you can pre-order the celebration anthology.

There had been no wisdom for rust.

My mother did not tell me stories. My null-sibling and I did not dance in its broken-copper beauty. We feared it, and pushed it back from the pavlo fields. We watched as the neighbor-farms fell to it. We watched as our children-friends gave in to the call and gave themselves to the world.

We watched as their skin split, and cracked, and all there was, was rust. Red and brown beneath the twin moons. Rust in the corners of our house, Rust on my mother’s pavlo when she died and there was one less to work the tract of land.

I remember my father’s blue water. I remember my mother’s second-best knife. My sister with wings of rust. I remember and I forget. I am rust, we are rust. I am not alone. I am never alone now. Because what the rust takes, it keeps. I am the children who had been meant for water or fire. I am the world who breathed in the flaked copper and knew no more.

There is a place where the pavlo still grows. A place where feet still push back the rust. Where lips speak of water and rain.

He is older now. Broad still, but the years have stooped him. He holds to his water wisdom and his memories—he shudders the rust. Our home has crumbled beneath the red weight of years. The roof has fallen and the whitewash is gone.

There is a tract of pavlo, a shoulders-breadth apart. He is on his knees, pushing rust from the stalks. Squeezing yesterday’s fruit for tomorrow’s growth. But there is one less pavlo than there was the day before. One less will see tomorrow. And so will it be until there is no pavlo. No rain. No hands or feet to hold back the rust. To hold back my father.

He looks up from his planting, and though his eyes widen, he looks away, because I am no shape but the shape of the land, the copper-hills. The rust that took his parents and wife and children. The rust that is waiting to take him soon.

I will wait for him. Rust-wisdom says that will come home. Because I am rust. Still, forever. I am Ianna, my mother, and Innos, my uncle. I am rust and rust wisdom is the wisdom of waiting.

New issue 2015.32

“It was not in my nature to be an assertive person. I was used to looking to others for guidance, for influence, sometimes for the most basic cues of life. And yet writing stories is one of the most assertive things a person can do. Fiction is an act of willfulness, a deliberate effort to reconceive, to rearrange, to reconstitute nothing short of reality itself. Even among the most reluctant and doubtful of writers, this willfulness must emerge. Being a writer means taking the leap from listening to saying, ‘Listen to me.’”

—Jhumpa Lahiri

Issue 2015.32

• ‘An Invisible Tide’, Jo Thomas, illustrated by Christina Cartwright
• ‘Disconnected’, Vanessa Fogg, illustrated by Miguel Santos
• ‘Tessa’, Edward Ashton, illustrated by Lisa Grabenstetter
• ‘Trigger Point’, C.A. Hawksmoor, illustrated by Martin Hanford
• ‘After the New Dawn’, Joseph Tomaras, illustrated by Eric Asaris
• ‘Rustsong’, Sean R. Robinson, illustrated by Cécile Matthey

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB | Mobi

Rate and review TFF #32 at Goodreads