Yes, it’s true. Company Town has been acquired by Tor Books. Angry Robot will no longer be publishing it. I explain how this happened at io9:
Ashby tells io9 that her editor had left Angry Robot before editing Company Town, and meanwhile the book was delayed — so she informed the authors who were blurbing it that there was no rush, after all. One of those would-be blurbers offered to show the book to his editor at Tor instead, and Tor had a spin on the book that Ashby liked.
I’m really excited about this, but I know you might have questions. If you have any more that I didn’t think of here, then I’ll try to answer them in the comments.
When will the book be out?
I’m not sure. We’re working on a date, but it looks like Fall 2015 might work.
Will my pre-order still work?
Doubtful. I will provide a pre-order link as soon as Tor generates one.
What will your next book from Tor be about?
I have some ideas! (I have too many ideas, actually. The trouble is sorting through them and finding the right one.) First I have to finish Rev, for Angry Robot, and a bunch of stories for various anthologies. But odds are it will be a standalone novel, probably set in the nearish future.
Will Rev: The Third Machine Dynasty be end of the Machine Dynasty series?
Yes. I have no plans to continue the series, either with Angry Robot or with anyone else.
Will it be your final book with Angry Robot?
I’m very proud to announce my new beat at the Ottawa Citizen. So far I’ve written about Jian Ghomeshi, Rob Ford, and Bill C-36.
This looks like it’ll be a regular thing, so long as I can keep up the pace. (Wish me luck.) If you want to follow along, you can follow me on Twitter or follow my editor, Kate Heartfield, or the Ottawa Citizen. Enjoy!
Dave and I are in Washington DC for the World Fantasy convention, and among the places we’ve visited in town is the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum. It’s an awesome place, with scale reproductions of spacefaring vessels, artifacts from past missions, and exhibits on everything from celestial navigation to the spectroscopy. While there, we kept seeing posters for IMAX screenings of Interstellar, which we thought we’d have to catch after returning to Toronto. “Wait,” I asked. “Is Interstellar playing…here?”
And lo, it was. And thus, we saw it.
You should see it, too.
Read the full article »
The week spent writing the comic, that is. The comic might not be that great. It’s hard for me to tell. But I had a great time writing it.
A while back, some people at Arizona State University’s Center for Science and the Imagination asked me to participate in the new phase of EVOKE, a transmedia experience produced by the WorldBank to teach young people about social innovation. EVOKE can take the form of a comic book, a web game, a forum, all three, or something new. I and a bunch of other writers, artists, and experts were asked to produce compelling narratives about issues like food security, local economies, nuclear proliferation, and the like. In short, to create a human story about an abstract issue that can often seem dry, boring, or just plain daunting in scale.
I chose human trafficking.
I chose human trafficking because I ended up learning a lot about it during my research on border security. A lot of the literature and media around border security automatically casts migrants as members of some kind of deliberate enemy incursion, and not people pushed to desperate measures by desperate times. Many of them have been lied to — deceived about where they’re going or what kind of work will be expected of them, or even if they’ll be allowed to live.
But until I had to write about it more directly, I had no idea of the true tragedy involved. I and my wonderful artist collaborator Anthony Diecidue were paired with two experts from the University of Guadelajara, María del Carmen Quevedo Marín and José Luis Echenausía Monroy. They’ve studied human trafficking throughout their careers, and the stories they told me broke my heart. While the story I developed for our project wasn’t exactly the warmest or fluffiest, it could have been so much worse.
It could have been about parents who sell their kids for their organs. Because young organs are the cleanest. They fetch the highest price. Just as an example.
After hearing stories like those, it seemed a little odd to leave Arizona feeling so energized and refreshed and confident. But that’s how I felt. Because not only had I somehow managed to write a full ten-page comic script in three days, and made what felt like lasting friendships over that short timespan, I realized that people really are interested in investigating these issues and others like them. They’re working it. We just never hear from them, because they’re not busy tweeting about it — they’re busy getting shit done.
And that’s awesome.
You might not be aware of this, but the end of Blade Runner is the beginning of The Shining. A friend reminded me of this during a conversation we shared at Can-Con earlier this month. “Well, it works,” I said. “They do talk about going north. And the Overlook is really on Mount Hood, in Oregon, north of LA. You could drive there. So it works. Which begs the question: are replicants haunted by human ghosts?”
Well? Are they?
You’re probably tired of hearing me bang on about the Hieroglyph anthology. But one of the reasons I’ve talked about it and promoted it so tirelessly is because I had a great time participating in it. A large part of my enjoyment had to do with the talent, patience, and confidence of my editor, Kathryn Cramer. When I was procrastinating because I was afraid of “not being optimistic enough,” or “not living up to Neal’s vision,” or “not accomplishing the goal of the project,” Kathryn calmly told me to follow my instincts. That whatever fiction arose would be ours to work on, not just mine to salvage. In other words, she did what all good editors are supposed to do: be patient, be firm, believe in the writer, and read carefully. It was one of the best editorial experiences I’ve ever had. A damn sight better than some others I could mention.
That’s why I’m so disappointed to see that this review by Paul Voosen of the anthology in the Chronicle of Higher Education didn’t mention Kathryn once.
Oh, and the reviewer forgot to mention any of the other women. At all. Not me. Not Elizabeth Bear. Not Vandana Singh. Not Annalee Newitz. Not Charlie Jane Anders. Not Brenda Cooper. Not Kathleen Ann Goonan. Our content constitutes a good of half of the anthology, and yet no mention is made of our contributions. Judging by the review, the only optimistic vision of the future Voosen believes in is the one where men dominate the conversation.
Now, granted, most of the review also discusses the awesome event we had with Slate and the New America Foundation, called “Can We Imagine Our Way to A Better Future?” Myself, Kathryn, Kathleen, Elizabeth, and Vandana all participated, as did numerous other women in the technology and media fields. None of our participation is mentioned in the review of our event. In fact, Voosen highlights my mention of Peter Watts’ name during our discusson of surveillance politics (and Watts’ disagreement with David Brin on the idea of a transparent society), without once mentioning my name. Hey, Paul. I gave you that talking point. You’re welcome.
I suppose this could be interpreted as me arguing with a bad review, which is a terrible thing to do because it wastes everyone’s time and energy, especially with one’s own. But as my work and my contributions — and those of all the other women involved — were summarily ignored, there’s no review to argue with. I know that some people enjoyed my story, while others didn’t. I know somee people enjoyed my panel, and others didn’t. Even those that disagreed with me were gracious enough to acknowledge my presence and start a conversation afterward.
Wish I could say the same about The Chronicle of Higher Education.
…this time talking about privacy, social media, bullying, feminism, all that stuff.
I had a really fun time with this one. I think I might finally be getting the hang of this!