Wednesday, 25 April 2018

Post Eastercon Blues





It has occurred to me recently that my cat has been overtaking my Blog somewhat. With my consent, it has to be said. But even so, the real Guy T. Martland is being somewhat diluted behind his furry fa├žade. Writing this blog post is my attempt to wrest back some degree of control from the sharpened claws of my significant alter ego. The Cat has made it clear what he got up to at Eastercon, but I haven’t. So here’s my bit.

***

To tell you the truth, I always find cons a bit difficult. The first one I went to I felt terribly alone and miserable for about a day, until I finally found someone I knew. And whilst things have moved on for me since then, I still suffer a degree of apprehension about attending. Being 6 foot 8 and having what some people might term a posh voice can make things somewhat difficult socially. I’m immediately shoved into the generic public school boy ‘rugger bugger’ category. Which, as those who know me, is really quite far from the truth. In addition, my height often belies my confidence at such events. I’m really not much of a social animal: I spend most of my life locked away in a lab looking at slides for goodness’ sake! Talking to loads of people at once can thus come as a bit of a shock.

There are a number of things that have helped with cons. Firstly, the Milford thing. This has been an absolute godsend when it comes to Eastercon and the like. Knowing that con stalwarts such as Jacey Beford will be there to support you and introduce you to other writers is wonderful. So, thank you Milford! And also, the friendships have blossomed from Milford course themselves. In fact my old pal Philip A. Suggars’ attendance was one of the deciding factors in making the long trip up from the South Coast to the darkest trappings of the North. Also, my wife seems to love these things as well, and has made pals with some of the Milford lot. Even so, I tend to stay at cons only a few days, finding a whole weekend just a bit too much. But that could be because of the quantities of real ale consumed...


I wasn’t on any panels or reading, like last year. Just happy to be there, hanging around, soaking up the rarefied atmosphere and feeling like a proper writer for a while. There were a number of fine moments this year, which I’d like to share with you. Of course, every con has magical moments, but these ten stuck out for me in particular.


1)    Attending the NewCon press book launch, including the best of British SF 2017 book launch. Seeing Mr Philip A. Suggars in his pomp, soaking it all up behind the writers’ desk on the stage, was fabulous. And I managed to get hold of a copy of Liz Williams’ Winterstrike sequel, for which I’ve been waiting a long time.
2)    A very drunken Adrian Tchaikovsky telling me how much he’d enjoyed my band. Until he realised I wasn’t Jon Boden. And that in fact the only thing I had in common with former Bellowhead chanteur was a leather jacket. And a ridiculously handsome face.
3)    Simon Morden asking me if Dominic Dulley was my significant other. As much as Mr Dulley is a fine looking chap, he really isn't my type - thankfully, this slightly awkward situation was soon resolved. I reminisced with Simon about the Noesis days, when we shared space in the short-lived magazine. I think Dom, as a newbie author, seemed pleased to have some advice from the seasoned Morden. Incidentally, Dom’s debut ‘Shattermoon’ comes out next month on the Jo Fletcher books’ imprint and it is fabulous.
4)    Listening to Kim ‘Stan’ Stanley Robinson’s recollections about his mate Iain Banks. Until this point, I hadn’t realised they were such good pals.  Stan recounted a visit to Iain’s house in Queensferry, South Scotland. ‘Where shall we go to lunch?’ asked Stan. ‘The Hebrides,’ Iain replied. And so it was, the meandering roads of Scotland providing no match for Banks’ lightning reflexes behind the wheel of his Porsche. And when it came for Stan to fly back, realising that he’d got the wrong airport, Iain simply replied: ‘Good’. Because this meant he’d have the opportunity to put his foot down and break the speed limit. Stan made his flight.




5)     Running the Harrogate ParkRun, with Simon Morden and one of the guests of honour Christina Lake. Well, I say running with them, but the leisurely run around The Stray descended into a full on endurance fest, when it became apparent that half the course was just a muddy bog. People were losing shoes in the mire, others were just giving up. I persevered, completed the course, and returned to the hotel with mud up to my waist.
6)    Getting Jeff Noon’s new novel signed. He tried to nick my pen because it was a Black Muji 0.5mm tip. By way of explanation, he told me that he also wrote with those pens, hence why he’d tried to lift mine. He then accused me of buying them all up which is why there were never any left when he went shopping. Perhaps this explains the Noonisms that appear in my prose when I jot in my notebooks with these implements.
7)    Catching up with Marcus Gipps who revealed that there were a few old unpublished J. P. Martin novels which he was thinking of kickstarting. When asked what I was writing, I said something like: ‘been writing these cat stories.’ And didn’t really elaborate much further. Really selling myself there to one of Gollancz’s prime editors, I reflected later...
8)    Seeing Peter F. Hamilton and Kim ‘Stan’ Stanley Robinson hugging each other in the bar. Settling old grievances? Rekindling their bromance? Or just happy to see one another?
9)    Going for dinner with the most excellent Carl Allery, who has been missing in action the last few Eastercons. Lovely to see him again. And we went to the most splendid and ridiculously ostentatious curry house.


10)And of course, hanging in the bar with Philip A. Suggars, Dominic Dulley, the Morans, Sue Oke, Noel Chidwick, Tina Anghelatos, Jacey Bedford, Dave Allan, Matt Colborn and a whole bunch of other Milford folk.

I also believe The Cat was active over the weekend, posting all kind of nonsense. You can find it in the hijacked parts of this blog, I’m sure.



We stopped at York on the way back. Walking the walls, it struck me that York is very much George R. R. Martin’s Winterfell. Well, he’s admitted before that he nicked Hadrian’s wall for ‘The Wall’ in Westeros (England). In fact I heard this from the horses’s mouth at Worldcon a few years ago (the con referred to at the top of this piece). So York as Winterfell it isn’t such a stretch. Then we went to look at some trains, had some more beer and went home.


And that was Follycon, 2018.  Next year we return to the Ballardian landscape of Heathrow. Martland will be once again stuck on his Concrete Island. Actually, Balard’s protagonist was named Maitland. Close, but no driving off the M4 into a decrepit wasteland populated by nutters just yet.

END

Saturday, 20 January 2018

Space Cold Wins



'Space Cold' has come top of the Positive Future Short Story Category in the Preditors and Editors Annual Readers' Poll!  Admittedly it was the only entry in its category, but I'll take it.  Any excuse to have a few beers, basically.

Drinking some Space Cold beer, earlier...

Thanks to everyone who voted!  And for the people who wrote these lovely comments:

'Having 5-starred The Scion and beta-read Lines of the Dead, I love Guy's organic and sentient spaceships. His inspiration for revenge on the 'cow' in Space Cold was inspired by the real-life horror story of the blue dogs of Mumbai. But this story ends on a positive note - something sorely needed in this market of dystopian SciFi.'

'Yet more brilliance from the Martland!'

'Inspiring work, great story and a fantastic way with words.'

Link to the Critters Website (which will direct you to the story): HERE

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Guy T. Martland is now on Steemit!


So I've taken the plunge and set up a Steemit account.

For those of you who don't know what this is, it is a social media platform.  But if your posts catch someone's eye and get upvoted, you accrue Steem dollars. Do I understand how this works, with the payments you get for posts?  Not really, but I'm assured the Steem dollars you get for an upvoted post can actually be turned into hard cash... Possibly.

As you can see, I'm still getting to grips with this, but so far it all seems pretty exciting.  There are some very enthusiastic writers on this platform, who seem to be pretty encouraging.  Writing competitions are flying around (see below) and there are a bunch of enthusiastic writer folk on board.  I've only really dipped my toes into the ocean, but the water seems pretty temperate. 

Guy's Steemit account: here

So far I've put a few posts up  - 'Time Out at the Cafe Metropole', which featured in a 2014 issue of the legendary Perihelion SF, is getting another airing.  I also added a story I wrote for one of the Steemit competition prompts, entitled 'Space Cold'.  I didn't win, but received an honourable mention.  And I also wrote another sort-of-story about battling social media.


More to follow...

Sunday, 11 June 2017

We Become Machine


The Art Show, 1963-77 (Environment aus Galeriemobiliar und 19 Figuren) - Edward Kienholz und Nancy Reddin Keinholz

Technology’s advance, trampling across the first few decades of this millennium, has been rampant, unstoppable.  Every day we plug into our machines and are bombarded with countless pieces of information – more than we can ever properly absorb.  People flick through information, hardly ever reading to the end of an article.  Look at the tube – everyone stuck into their phones in the morning, all silent and lost in a bubble of information.

In fact, we have become so dependent on our machines that our memories just don’t work as well.  How often have you tried to recall something, then instead just checked Google?  This happens mid conversation with some friends - I’ve even done it myself.  ‘Hang on, let me check the collective consciousness,’ I’ve quipped, to stifle my slight embarrassment, to try and cover the hiatus in normal conversation.

But hang on a minute… What has happened here?  Let’s recap a little.  Most human communities were hunter gatherers.  Then came increased agriculture, industrialisation and the move into big cities.  Could we really cope?  Not so much.  The sheer size of our communities was confusing for our brains.  People were used to running around but suddenly have sedentary lives.  We hadn’t properly evolved into such societies.  But suddenly we were in the middle of them, trying to cope.  Cue diabetes, heart disease, mental health disorders and a whole host of other medical problems.

Now throw in tech.  And our increasing reliance on it.  Another significant step change from our hunter gatherer predecessors.  No wonder our minds are going crazy with this.  Our tech is interrupting our normal human interactions, changing us as humans, affecting our relationships and our minds.  And no wonder we are getting addicted to our tech.  And it IS addictive.  That feeling you get when you look at the TV, then look at your phone, then back to the TV?  That’s dopamine, released by your basal ganglia and causing pleasure.  And an addictive pleasure at that – it is the same reward pathway associated with heroin addiction.


The Art Show, 1963-77 (Environment aus Galeriemobiliar und 19 Figuren) - Edward Kienholz und Nancy Reddin Keinholz

When writing ‘Update 13.0’ all these thoughts were floating around.  I was trying to envision where our tech will take us next.  Attending the Keinholz exhibition in Berlin solidified some of the ideas in my mind.  Keinholz was critical of many of the facets of modern life and his strange chimeric human machine creations are a reflection of this.  It came as a shock to see his work, which preceded our modern day society, but to which we've been heedless.  In Update 13.0 I came up with a weird amalgam of our current tech and our biological form, which needless to say has disastrous consequences: it is meant to function as a stark warning, similar to Keinholz's work.

But would it actually happen like this?  Would our nervous systems be able to cope with such a wetware interface?  Our current technologies prevent us from sleeping properly, due to the blue light, the repeated stimulation.  And as humans we need sleep.  Poor sleep can cause a host of disorders, from depression to poor glucose control and, some even suggest, obesity.  And this is even before we talk about the disruptive effects electromagnetic fields can have on the brain. 

I’ve been listening to the mindfulness tsar Burgs recently, who claims that even plugging ourselves in for a short time can cause significant damage.  And that’s really it - we stop being mindful, we lose ourselves in our phones and stop being aware of what is around us.  We lose the beauty of the world, and instead become reliant on that dopamine fix.  Generations of people hooked on the drug of information.  This is our version of Huxley's Soma, and it has crept upon us so quickly we haven't even really considered it; we've hardly had a chance to sit back for a moment and wonder whether this is actually a good idea.


The Art Show, 1963-77 (Environment aus Galeriemobiliar und 19 Figuren) - Edward Kienholz und Nancy Reddin Keinholz

Update 13.0 is one scenario, but there are others.  Lavie Tidhar’s wonderful Central Station, a Clarke award nominee this year, shows us tech a bit further along: this has become so prevalent that if you aren’t enhanced, you are regarded as a cripple.  It isn’t hard to imagine being regarded as a pariah if you don’t have a phone – I’ve seen people look askance at those who have one of the older Nokias and refuse to update.  ‘You can’t get Facebook on your phone?  What are you, some kind of dinosaur?’

However, the floodgates have opened and now there is no turning back.  But we need to be able to deal with the flow of information, and somehow control the proliferation of technology before it harms us significantly as a species.  For all Gate's genius, he didn't foresee the alternative consequences.  We need to take stock and consider the negative effects these new technologies can have before we plunge headlong into a virtual reality, where real human life no longer really exists.  As I see it, we are moving towards a worrying singularity event.  Every technology has its pros and cons, and whilst our current tech is useful, it isn’t part of the reason for our existence.

Step back, go outside, look at the trees, listen to the birds.  Consider why you are here.  There is a big world out there, outside the confines of your computer, your phone.  There is a reason mindfulness is suddenly the rage.  Unplug for a while and then you might, if you are lucky, start to live properly again.  Or maybe, if that is too much to ask, put down your phone, pick up one of those paper books and read it to the end.

The Art Show, 1963-77 (Environment aus Galeriemobiliar und 19 Figuren und Guy T. Martland mit iPhone) - Edward Kienholz und Nancy Reddin Keinholz

Read Update 13.0 by Guy T. Martland here:

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Update: Sequels, Stories, Readings, Speeches and Disclaimers



The writer Guy T. Martland in action - Eastercon 2017.

After neglecting this blog for a while, I’m back - mostly in response to those who have been asking me questions like: what have you been up to? how's the writing going? where's the sequel to The Scion? where can I buy your books from?  Well, I'll attempt to answer a few of these questions in this post.  Here you go:



December to March: Putting the finishing touches to the sequel to The Scion.



I took the first 12K words or so of 'the sequel' to the Milford SF conference last year.  At this stage the novel was pretty much complete.  But this process helped me align various thoughts about the plot, which wound themselves together over the following few months.  And I had to add a few massive space battles.



Being a regular at Milford I was ready for what the collected writers would throw at me, but it went down pretty well, all things considered.  If you are about to get a bad crit, people present chocolate or beer – I wasn’t one of the receivers this time.  Although in previous years, I remember Bob Neilson (Albedo One) handing over a bottle of ale, before proclaiming that he couldn’t stand my piece and that it was ‘Like bloody Harry Potter in space.’  I forgave him when he published ‘The New Galvanism’.



After The Scion was pulled from publication due to the small press going the sad way of many small presses, I thought about consigning its sequel to the dustbin.  But I kept being asked about what happened next...  In any case, I couldn’t have written 'the sequel' - in fact I might not have even got started - without the encouragement and help of many people.  Of note, Carol Kean from Perihelion SF, who was so enamoured with a particular species in The Scion that she begged to see more of them: having annihilated their planet in The Scion, this wasn’t without problems, but I found a way.  I’d like also to thank Liam Orchard-Webb for his infectious enthusiasm and kind words about The Scion, which inspired me to get back on the sequel’s horse.



So 'the sequel' is now complete.  Despite it being a standalone (i.e. you don't have to have read The Scion), it is still a sequel.  And with The Scion is still floundering in limbo without a publisher, will it ever make it out there into the big wide world?  Who knows…  To paraphrase GRRM, I may not ever get another book published, but I sure as hell am going to write one.



Following on from this, the process of editing and re-editing this book did spark something in me.  I had been planning to finish this up and move onto pastures new, but ideas kept coming and before I knew it, I’d been bitten.  I am now embarking on the third installment of Mr Septimus Esterhazy, complete with shapeshifting aliens, hideous alien creatures, warts and all.  Basically, I couldn’t resist – I was having too much fun.



Oh, and by the way 'the sequel' now also has a title: LINE OF THE DEAD.


March Monday Midday Murakami.


More from March:



While procrastinating about LOTD, mostly reading rather than writing, I'd started going through some old stories and was beginning to put them together as a collection.  I’d been meaning to do this for ages, and with a week off work, my wife away, this seemed like a perfect time to take stock of my short story history.  Gordon the cat didn’t seem to object much either – he is always busy writing another bestseller, putting my efforts to shame.



The collection pulls together stories from 1996 to the present.  I went for a chronological order, followed by author’s notes or epigrams, whatever you want to call them (hopefully not epitaphs).  Some of the stories intersect with The Scion, some don’t.  A number have been published over the years, a number haven’t.  The early ones seem to have stood the test of time, although a spring clean was necessary in a few cases: tricky, that, trying to add a lick of paint but maintain the original feel of the piece.  But I’m pretty happy with the way it all turned out.

From L to R: David L. Clements, Arthur Chapell, Aliette de Bodard, Arthur Chappell, Guy T. Martland, Donna Scott



April: Eastercon


I’ve been to Eastercon, the British Science Fiction Association’s big annual bash, for the past few years, but have mostly been content to prop up the bar, chat to the Milford writers and let the whole thing wash over me.  But with a sense that I should be doing something a bit more constructive, perhaps getting involved somehow.



So when I was asked to read for the Shoreline of Infinity event this year, I leapt at the opportunity.  My story ‘Approaching 43,000 Candles’ had appeared in the inaugural issue of Shoreline.  For those of you who haven’t read it, it is about a bunch of lighthouses going to a conference in Birmingham, having partly been inspired by a visit there.  Kismet had decided that this year’s Eastercon was also in Birmingham, so it seemed appropriate that I should read some of it.


The Doctor: last seen in Bos Vegas

Not having done any readings since back in Bristol when I used to do poetry open mic nights, this meant practising: my wife grew weary of hearing the first part of this during the preceding week.  On the day, it turned out we weren’t on until about 9pm, having been knocked back by Doctor Who, the first episode of the new series being shown at the conference.  Not that I mind Doctor Who being my support act, but… it did mean I had to forgo the vast selection or real ales on offer until after the gig.  (I rarely do well on Dutch Courage, just turns me into a slurring mess.)


Anyway, despite a few nerves, it all went well.  It was a pleasure to feature alongside such luminaries as David Clements, Arthur Chappell, Aliette de Bodard, Andrew Wilson and Donna Scott.  And on the plus side, according to Noel from Shoreline, we managed to shift a few copies of issue 1.
 
Editor (Noel Chidwick of Shoreline) and Author catch up in the bar.
  
May: Speeches and Disclaimers


I’d been a best man before, but not for many years.  Having to write a speech for one of your best friends, whom you’ve known for 30 years is a tough ask.  And very different from writing science fiction.  Nothing like a prompt to start you writing though…



The groom warned the guests beforehand that because I was a science fiction writer, nothing I said was necessarily to be believed.  However, with 30 years of stories, it wasn’t necessary to veer too far from Earth, or indeed into other dimensions.  Although I had used the venue for a short story a few years back.  I was pleased when someone came up to me afterwards and slurred: ‘You can tell you are a writer.  I’ve never heard the word ‘nuanced’ used in a best man speech before.’  I told the drunken guest that I'd actually said spaceship and they'd misheard.


Balconic Solent Vista. And a nice day for a wedding. Pier and gardens as featured in my story 'The Leather Bracelet'.

On the same day as the wedding, just after the speech, sat somewhere on right of the photo above, I got an email through to inform me that my story ‘Update 13.0’ had been published by Disclaimer Magazine.  I’m intending to blog more about this over the weekend, but for the time being, you can find it here:


And that is it, November to the end of May in just over a thousand words.

Consider yourself Updated.

Sunday, 6 November 2016

The Flock: Here Be Monster Munches...

Some Monster Munch, this evening...

So I am delighted to announce that my new story, 'The Flock' has been published by the lovely folks over at The Singularity!  It shimmered into being a week or so ago on their website.  You can read it here:

The Flock (I'm afraid this link no longer works - GTM 11.03.18)

I came up with the original idea for this story after I'd visited an Antony Gormley exhibition at the Hayward gallery in London.  Casts of his body were strewn around the South Bank, tottering on the edges of rooftops, and I gather causing some alarm: a few calls to the police from members of the public about men about to jump... The work was called 'Event Horizon', a suitable SFnal title.

The visit had piqued my imagination and The Flock was born a few weeks later.  Or at least, a rudimentary outline thereof.  I'd just moved down to the South Coast and had found a new writers' group, hoping it would be similar to the diverse, outward-looking one I'd had to leave in Bristol.  But it couldn't have been more different.

For some reason, the glossy magazines strewn around, containing stories entitled 'The Violin Man' and 'Heartbreak in the Hospital', didn't register until later.  Excitedly clutching the first few pages of The Flock, when it was my turn, I read them out loud.  Whilst it left most of the group cold, some recoiled in horror.  It seemed that I had misjudged their collective imagination.  Afterwards, the woman who ran the group, somewhat insultingly, even asked me if I'd had my CRB* checked.  I left, appalled, and didn't return.  Luckily my faith in writing groups was soon restored by the wonderful Milford SF Conference.

Anyway, I got wrapped up in writing The Scion and then Machine Songs, and The Flock was shelved.  Returning to it brought back recollections of that dire evening.  But I persevered, and the story changed into its current form, through various iterations.

Since it has been published, there have been some great comments about my use of a popular crispy snack in the story.  This didn't appear in the original draft I read at the godawful writers' group, which might have been the problem.  Anyway, I fully intend that from now on, I use Monster Munch in all future fiction.  Or at least during its creation...

*Criminal Records Bureau - for those outside the UK, new employers run your details through their system to make sure they haven't got a criminal record, etc.  Now known as a Disclosure Check.

Saturday, 2 July 2016

Milford Blog

https://milfordsfwriters.wordpress.com/2016/06/21/alastair-reynolds-on-milford/


The new Milford SF Writers' Conference Blog site kicks off with a lovely piece by Al Reynolds (Revelation Space, other SF blockbusters).

I first went to the Welsh incarnation of Milford in 2012, after which I was entrusted with the annual report.  Then once I'd got the bug, I returned in 2014; some more words about that one here.

My story Words of War came out of 2012, as did a very rudimentary version of the first few chapters of the now finished (but as yet unpublished) Machine Songs.  And in 2014?  Well ... you'll have to wait!  Needless to say on both occasions, I made some fantastic writer friends, ate lots of vegetarian nosh and explored Mordor; some beers might also have been consumed.

And I'm back again this September for more writing related shenanigans.

Here is a screenshot from the Milford Success Stories page.  Keeping some distinguished company there: