Friday, February 10, 2017

Speculative Fiction Links of the Week for February 10, 2017

Here is our weekly round-up of interesting links about speculative fiction from around the web, this week with discussion about alternate histories and dystopian fiction, the Locus Awards, discussion about the future of Doctor Who, tributes to Richard Hatch, a shadow jury for the Arthur C. Clarke Award, comments on The Expanse, Legion and The Space Between Us as well as the usual mix of awards news, writing advice, interviews, reviews, awards news, con reports, crowdfunding projects, science articles and free online fiction. 

Speculative fiction in general:

Tributes to Richard Hatch:

Awards:

Discussion about the Arthur C. Clarke Award shadow jury:

Debate about the future of Doctor Who: 

Comments on The Expanse: 

Comments on Legion:

Comments on The Space Between Us:  

Writing, publishing and promotion:

Reviews:

Science and technology:
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Thursday, February 9, 2017

The Hunger by Guy Riessen

Release date: January 23, 2017
Subgenre: Horror, Weird Western

About The Hunger: 

 

James Dempsey, a cold-blooded British assassin is sent to the frontier wilderness of the 1860s Canadian/American border to hunt down the Wendigo, a deadly supernatural creature capable of clouding the human mind and driving men to cannibalism. With futuristic technology, and deadly skill James' hubris drives him with a hunger to succeed at any cost.

But as the temperature drops in the wickedly bitter nights of the North, who is hunting whom?

Fans of Lovecraftian Mythos Horror will revel in this brutally dark and gritty battle between greed, pride and an insatiable hunger.

A Weird Western Mythos Short Story of 6065 words.


Excerpt:

 

"The ground was completely frozen, James' boots crunched icy pine needles with every step. He moved a couple paces away from the fire and spun around when he felt something grip his arm. Kitchi stood, one hand on James' shoulder, illuminated in the green glow from the chambers of James’ pistol. Kitchi raised a finger to his lips. The soft fur soles of Kitchi's boots made no sound as he stepped past James. In the dim starlight, James could just make out the shadow form of Pannoowau crouched over the fire ring. He could see the sparks from the flint, but frigid air carried little sound, like everything was smothered under a wool blanket.

James turned back to where Kitchi was standing half-lit by the stars. The Indian stood at the edge of the shadow cast by a massive white pine. He muttered something in Cree and shook his head. James could see nothing in the dark of the shadow, so he said in a harsh whisper, "What is it?"

Flames began to glow back in the fire pit, pushing back the shadows. Kitchi tucked his rifle under his arm and pointed at the frost-covered ground. Pannoowau stepped up behind them, uncovered the lens of an oil lantern and held it out. The flaring light revealed huge swaths of red blood punctuated with white bits of bone and chunks of flesh and entrails strewn about the base of the pine. Steam still rose in lazy arcs from carnage. In the light of the lantern, James could see their supplies and packs scattered about.

"Damn!" James shouted, stamping his boots against the hard ground, "Damn and Hellfire! Where's the other horses? We’ll need to split some of this between the other saddlebags."

"Quiet!" Kitchi said. "Wendigo close."

"Wendigo?" James asked. "It must be something bigger than that, it killed and dragged off a thousand-pound horse. A grizzly?"

Kitchi took the lantern from Pannoowau and said, "No, Sir James, not grizzly, Wendigo. And not just one thousand-pound horse...three horses." Kitchi shined the lantern around, picking out two other massive swaths of blood. The wagon overturned and splintered.

"Bloody hell!" James walked through the area lit by the lantern, kicking some of the supplies and burst saddlebags into a central pile, "How the Devil could all this happen when we were asleep just 10 yards away?"

"Wendigo have power over men's minds. Make you sleep. Make you wake. Make you hungry. Once you sleep, Wendigo can control. What you see. What you hear."


Free from February 7 to February 10!

Amazon


About Guy Riessen:


Guy Riessen is an American author of contemporary dark fiction spanning the science fiction, horror, fantasy and crime genres. Born in 1967 in South Dakota, he grew up in the Southern California beach town of Huntington Beach. He moved to the San Francisco Bay Area in 1985, graduated with a degree in English from UC Berkeley, and has been living in the wild lands north of San Francisco ever since. After nearly two decades of creating artwork in the visual effects industry for feature films, he returned to his first passion: writing speculative fiction.

Website

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Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Greenwood Cove (Sunshine Walkingstick, Book 1) by Celia Roman

Release date: February 3, 2017
Subgenre: Urban fantasy, folklore 

About Greenwood Cove: 

 

I had three loves in my life: my daddy, him what my mama killed in cold blood; my son Henry, God rest him; and tall as an oak Riley Treadwell.

I lost all of 'em, one way or t'other, 'til Riley showed up on my stoop with a monster problem and tried to wiggle his way back into my life.

Only, weren't no monster bothering him; was the one bothering his ex-girlfriend what'd stirred up a hornet's nest out on Lake Burton amongst the muckity mucks. Weren't no never mind to me, see? I was fine letting well enough alone, 'cept curiosity got the best of me, and Riley, well. He weren't above using that silver tongue of his to persuade me 'round to his way of thinking. If I'da listened to my gut, maybe I woulda avoided stepping knee deep into somebody else's trouble.

Then again, I ain't never been one to heed a warning when monsters come a-calling.

Author's Note: Greenwood Cove was written in the native dialect of the narrator, found in the rural areas of the Southern Appalachians. The grammar, spelling, and syntax are not standardized American English.

Excerpt:



Harley Jimpson was sitting on the steps of my porch when I come home, his wrinkled face sagging in a forlorn frown. I sighed and invited him in for a glass of sweet tea. Long as Fame and Harley was friendly, I couldn’t get outta helping the other man, hang all. Fame was gonna get an earful, though, I sworn, soon as I could pin my uncle down.
I poured Harley some tea and settled into the chair behind my desk, my hand close enough to the .380 for easy pulling. Harley weren’t exactly a bad man, but he was slimy as an oil slick and about as trustworthy as a bear with an abscessed tooth.
He sipped his tea and smacked his lips. “Mighty fine tea, Miss Sunny.”
“Thank ye kindly. What can I do for you?”
His rheumy eyes took on a canny gleam. “Way I heard it, you was stepping out with the Sheriff’s son.”
I pressed my lips together. Hadn’t taken long a’tall for that rumor to spread and we hadn’t been on the first date. “Me and Riley go way back. Don’t mean we’re stepping out.”
“So you wouldn’ta heard none what he’s doing snooping around the water.”
“Matter of fact, he found what might be toxic waste dumped into the waterways near y’all. You might wanna keep you and yourn outta there for a while.”
Harley’s lips curled back in a snaggle-toothed grin. “You know an awful lot for somebody he ain’t stepping out with.”
“We’re friends,” I said, patient and even like. Friendly, anyhow, and I reckoned that was close enough where Riley was concerned. “You need something else?”
Harley’s expression hardened. “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?”
I inched my hand toward the hilt of the .380. “I got business, is all. Fame’s expecting me up his way soon. You know how he is about being on time.”
“I know Fame right well, little missy, maybe better’n you do.” Harley slapped his palms on his thighs and stood. “’Preciate the news.”
“Any time. Give your family my regards. Keep ‘em outta the water.”
“No worries there. Ain’t got a one what likes getting wet.”
I showed him out and locked the door behind him, and danged if my phone didn’t ring as soon as his car’s engine turned over. I picked it up and answered, and that was the last I thought on Harley Jimpson for a good, long while.

Amazon

 

About Celia Roman:


Celia Roman lives in the mountains of Western North Carolina in an historic farmhouse built by her great-grandfather. Her stories are inspired by a natural interest in the paranormal and too many late night reruns of Supernatural.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest


 
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Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Coalescence (Dragonfire Station, Book 3) by Zen DiPietro

Release date: February 6, 2017
Subgenre: Space opera

About Coalescence: 

 

Fallon’s back, and ready to settle things with Blackout once and for all. If she and her team can’t take control, the PAC will splinter and massive intergalactic war will decimate the populace.

Can one little rebellion save an empire? Avian Unit—and their friends—are sure as hell going to try.

Excerpt:

 

Fallon kept her attention fully on Nevitt as she settled across from her. “It was kind of you to give me time to get my bearings. But it’s been over a week, and we can’t lose any more time.”
“Of course. So say whatever it is you so clearly do not want to say.”
Fallon considered leading into it gradually, but doubted Nevitt would appreciate the evasiveness. So she dove right in. “I want to set up a rebel headquarters here on Dragonfire.”
Nevitt’s eyebrows moved toward her hairline. “Is that all?” Her quiet words blistered with sarcasm.
“Before I left here, you said you wanted to join the upper echelons of the PAC, so you could make changes for the greater good. This is your chance.”
Despite the bombshell, Nevitt remained composed. The time she took to respond was the only indication of the magnitude of what Fallon had laid on her.
“And you have a plan to do that?” Nevitt sounded skeptical.
“Not a precise plan. More like an agenda of potential tactics, each of which will require their own contingencies. But I need to get your approval before we go deep into the logistics.”
“What if I say no?” Nevitt’s gaze didn’t waver.
Fallon met her eyes. “Then we select another, less ideal site. Someplace less protected, where we have fewer assets and allies. But we’ll still go after Blackout.”
“And if I say yes?”
“Then you’ll be putting the lives of everyone on this station in jeopardy. You’ll become an enemy of the state. And you might just save the PAC from intergalactic war.”
The quiet of Nevitt’s quarters roared in Fallon’s ears as she waited for a reply.
“Agreed.” Nevitt snapped the word out like a stinger blast. “But I have some conditions.”
“State your terms.”
“Protecting this station and the people on it will be among your top priorities. You will remain security chief here.” She ticked off the points on her fingers as she went. “You will not fail to fix whatever’s wrong with Blackout. And, finally, I will be consulted on all matters regarding the safety of Dragonfire and the progress of your mission—” she broke off and corrected herself, “—our mission.”
Fallon opened her mouth to speak but Nevitt cut her off. “Don’t give me a bunch of scrap about top secret protocols or giving me plausible deniability. If you want to operate on my station, I’m going to be part of the team. That’s not negotiable.”
Fallon met her captain’s narrowed eyes. “Agreed.”
Nevitt’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Or surprise, perhaps. Fallon had never seen such an uncertain expression on Nevitt, so she wasn’t entirely sure.
Nevitt’s brow smoothed, and her lips curved into a smirk. “I can’t believe you agreed to that.”
The absurdity of it all struck Fallon, and she laughed. To her even-greater surprise, Nevitt chuckled.
“Considering that my team has stolen data, broken into a PAC base, and taken down an illegal research lab manufacturing treaty-prohibited items, I’d say your lack of proper security clearance is a minor offense. And it makes sense that you should be informed.”
Nevitt’s amusement faded to seriousness. “It sounds like you need to fill me in on some things before we proceed.”
For the next two hours, Fallon did her best to bring Nevitt into the loop on all of Avian Unit’s activities and intentions. Nevitt’s expression grew increasingly grave.
When Fallon finished, Nevitt said, “There’s one more condition I want to add.”
“If it’s one I can’t agree to, it would put me in a very tricky position, given all that you now know.”
Nevitt ignored her. “When you’ve taken control of Blackout and gotten things sorted, I will be part of the new administration.”
Fallon wouldn’t have had it any other way. “Agreed.”

 

Amazon

 

About the Dragonfire Station series: 



About Zen DiPietro: 

Zen DiPietro is a lifelong bookworm, dreamer, writer, and a mom of two. Perhaps most importantly, a Browncoat Trekkie Whovian. Also red-haired, left-handed, and a vegetarian geek. Absolutely terrible at conforming. A recovering gamer, but we won’t talk about that. Particular loves include badass heroines, British accents, and the smell of Band-Aids. Writing reviews, author interviews, and fun stuff at www.womenofbadassery.com. 

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Monday, February 6, 2017

Age of Order by Julian North

Release date: February 6, 2017
Subgenre: Dystopian fiction

About Age of Order: 

 

What if the people who thought they were better than you… really were?

In this world, inequality is a science. Giant machines maintain order. And all people are not created equal.

Daniela Machado is offered a chance to escape the deprivation of Bronx City through a coveted slot at the elite Tuck school. There, among the highborn of Manhattan, she discovers an unimaginable world of splendor and greed. But her opportunity is part of a darker plan, and Daniela soon learns that those at society’s apex will stop at nothing to keep power for themselves. She may have a chance to change the world, if it doesn’t change her first.

Excerpt:

 

CHAPTER ONE
A gunshot pierced the night.
A hollow ring echoed in its wake. The sound was familiar: the bullet had struck the impenetrable armor of an enforcement drone. The noise declared that anyone within earshot should flee the tattered streets. Most of the denizens of the barrio heeded the warning. A few did not. I joined the tide of those that ran.
The machine rolled onto the avenue like a wolf among sheep. Flashing globes scrutinized the scene beneath the drone’s rotating turret, an artificial gaze seeing, recording, targeting. Caterpillar-tracked wheels dragged the metal monster’s alloy chassis across the cracked asphalt, its bulk brimming with spray guns, antennas, jammers and the devil knew what else.
“You are ordered to clear the streets and return to your homes,” commanded a reverberating voice. “The Five Cities Protection Authority has authorized the use of corrective force to restore calm to this area.”
Another machine appeared behind the first, a bitter twin of its companion. A dozen rays of light flickered from the monstrosities, forming a latticework of ominous crimson. A beam grazed my back. It caused a hint of heat on my spine, but a torrent of terror in my heart. The warning was clear: We know who you are, Daniela Machado. You are dead if we wish it.
I ran faster, cutting in front of the ragged shell of a man galloping beside me. He was a dweller of the barrio: hopeless eyes, gaunt arms, and a torn, sleeveless undershirt. I dashed across the street, putting his body in the path of the finder beam that had glued itself to my backside. I felt guilty about it. But people needed me. That was life in my part of the Five Cities.
“Puta,” he shouted when he realized what I’d done. He reached for my mane of ink-dark hair, its mass woven into a tight tail behind my head, but only his fingertips brushed against me. I was always fast—faster than anyone else on my school’s track team. Faster even than the boys. Long legs and a lean frame helped.
I dashed towards the dilapidated collection of storefronts hugging the fringes of the worn avenue, the rusted metal gates firmly closed, lean-to homes piled on their concrete roofs. Makeshift cardboard dwellings crowded the sidewalk. I ran for one of the lightless alleys between the buildings. Lurkers lived in those narrow corridors as surely as rats lived in the sewer, but I’d rather face them than the machines. I leaped towards the darkness.
A finder beam latched onto me as I sailed through the air, the comparative safety of the alley as tantalizingly close as candy in a shop window. I imagined the tight little dot on my leg, hot and hungry. I could almost touch the alley wall. But not quite. The hulking metal slave fired.
A correction pellet sliced through the fabricated leather of my sneaker and bit into my flesh. The force of the impact was enough to screw up my balance too. I landed on one foot instead of two, falling forward. Chewed-up concrete surged towards me. I sacrificed my right palm and left elbow to protect my head, and the viser strapped to my left forearm.
I scrambled to my feet and ran down the alley, my jaw clenched, but the pain wasn’t what was bothering me. I told myself that my shoe had blocked a lot of the pellet. That I probably hadn’t gotten hit with a full dose. That what was coming wouldn’t be that bad.
Liar.


Amazon 

 

About Julian North:


I’ve been writing since I could grab a pencil (remember those?)  Then I had kids. Not much time for writing anymore. Until they started school… in New York City. I’m not from here, and the tumult of that experience inspired me. AGE OF ORDER grew from frustration, anger, and hope. Now I write what I’m feeling, and let the rest flow from there. I hope you enjoy it.

Website | Facebook | Goodreads

 
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Saturday, February 4, 2017

The Final Reconciliation by Todd Keisling

Release date: February 3, 2017
Subgenre: Horror

About The Final Reconciliation: 

 

TAKE OFF YOUR MASK!

Thirty years ago, a progressive rock band called The Yellow Kings began recording what would become their first and final album. Titled “The Final Reconciliation,” the album was expected to usher in a new renaissance of heavy metal, but it was shelved following a tragic concert that left all but one dead.

The sole survivor of that horrific incident was the band’s lead guitarist, Aidan Cross, who’s kept silent about the circumstances leading up to that ill-fated performance—until now.

For the first time since the tragedy, Aidan has granted an exclusive interview to finally put rumors to rest and address a question that has haunted the music industry for decades: What happened to The Yellow Kings?

The answer will terrify you.

Inspired by The King in Yellow mythos first established by Robert W. Chambers, and reminiscent of cosmic horror by H. P. Lovecraft, Laird Barron, and John Langan, comes The Final Reconciliation—a chilling tale of regret, the occult, and heavy metal by Todd Keisling.

Proudly brought to you by Crystal Lake Publishing - Tales from the Darkest Depths



Excerpt:

 

-TRACK 2-

THE GYPSY ON DARKENED SHORES



The first time I saw Camilla Bierce was in a dive bar called Murphy’s, the local watering hole in some no-name town out West. We were on tour then, supporting the Jesters in Our Court EP. It was our first official release, save for a self-titled demo we’d circulated to all the labels a year before. Most of the songs from that demo—‘The Infernal Machination’ and ‘Holes in the Fabric’ parts one and two, in particular—ended up on the EP, except this time they didn’t sound like they were recorded in Bobby’s basement.
The suits at the label were cautiously optimistic at best. Our style of rock was a niche genre for sure—no one wanted 15-minute epic rock journeys anymore, and they hadn’t for at least 30 years—but other bands like Tool, Mastodon, and Opeth had found their audience, and our manager Reggie was able to convince the suits to send us on a small tour.
“Let them get their feet wet,” he told them, or at least that’s what he told us he told them. We weren’t there for the actual meeting. Our bassist, Hank, was the only one of us who had a car, and the night before he’d gotten drunk and left his headlights on. Reggie made something up to explain our absence, but I don’t remember what it was.
Anyway, Reggie was the only one who didn’t seem surprised by the label’s decision to pony up the cash for a tour.
“Me and a couple of the execs go way back,” he said. “Besides, you boys are the full package in spades. You’ve got the name, the mystique, you’ve got the look, and more importantly you’ve got the sound. You’re King Crimson two-point-oh!”
Johnny was the one who picked the name ‘The Yellow Kings’. He’d lifted it from some book he read when he was in high school. He was always into weird shit like that. I think if he hadn’t picked up a guitar and fallen in love with Robert Plant, he would’ve been one of those creepy writer dudes, sitting in the dark, hunched over a keyboard, writing about the apocalypse.
I’d like to say our ‘mystique’ was something we’d planned, but the truth is, all of us were pretty terrified of playing in front of a crowd. We dealt with it in our own ways. Hank always carried a bottle of Jack onstage with him. Me and Bobby, we grew our hair long to hide our faces. Johnny would always sing with his eyes closed until someone told him to just wear sunglasses like Al Jourgensen or Layne Staley. He did, and he caught a lot of flak for it at first. We joked once that maybe we should all just wear masks like the guys from Slipknot, but Reggie shot that down real quick.
You know, thinking back on it, I can see why the label wanted us to get our feet wet. We were all pretty green.
So, Reggie booked us some shows, and Bobby borrowed some money from his ma so we could buy a beat-up shit-heap of a van. And off we went, The Yellow Kings on our first tour.  

Currently available for a special introductory price of 99 cents!

Amazon | Goodreads | Crystal Lake Publishing




  About Todd Keisling:

Todd Keisling is the author of the bestselling horror series Ugly Little Things, as well as the novels A Life Transparent and The Liminal Man (a 2013 Indie Book Award Finalist). He lives with his wife and son somewhere near Reading, Pennsylvania. He still has a day job, he's awkward and weird, and if you were to live next door to him, your grass would probably die.

Website




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Friday, February 3, 2017

Speculative Fiction Links of the Week for February 3, 2017


Here is our weekly round-up of interesting links about speculative fiction from around the web, this week with dystopian fiction, the Locus recommended reading list, discussion about the future of Doctor Who as well as the usual mix of awards news, writing advice, interviews, reviews, awards news, con reports, crowdfunding projects, science articles and free online fiction. 

Speculative fiction in general:

Reviews:

Crowdfunding:
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