Kelley Eskridge – Page 3 – writer. screenwriter. learning person. loves being human.

Would you do it for a dollar?

I came up in pre-internet publishing. I built my fiction career one painstakingly white-out-corrected typed story and SASE¹ at a time. (Thank you, humans of earth, for inventing the word processor and also the internet, although I am not convinced that the ability to publish without reflection is a great gift to aspiring writers.) I submitted to pro markets, and when I was eventually published, was paid pro rates. It took more than a year after the Clarion workshop before my first story was accepted for pro publication, and another year to see it in print.

I worked on Solitaire for more than 8 years, in the hours left over from whatever full-time job I had. One hard day I had to throw away 11,000 words — a year of work — because I had taken a wrong turn in the story and been unwilling for months to admit it; I suppose I thought if I kept writing, the story would magically get better, kind of like dirty clothes “get clean” if you leave them in the hamper long enough. (The lesson of the 11,000 words is one I have never forgotten.) I kept writing. I found an agent. I finished the book. It was rejected by basically every SF publisher in New York until it found a champion in the wonderful Jennifer Brehl, who taught me the lesson that publishers don’t buy books: editors do.

I have a very clear sense of “paying dues” in order to achieve professional status. I don’t believe in magic bullets when it comes to artistic work (or any other kind). I have very little respect or patience for people who believe in skipping the laborious work of learning craft in favor of “I just want to push this button on my first draft and call myself a professional author right now.”

We’ll get back to this idea of dues; but first, let’s talk more about dollars.

Story contracts should ideally be pretty simple and straightforward: x cents per word, or y lump sum for the story, and a very short list of rights being purchased. Novel contracts are more complex in terms of rights and payment structure. And then we come to film options.

For an author, the way the money works in a film option contract is that the producer or other option holder makes an initial payment (the option price) and specifies a possible later payment (the purchase price). The option price gives them the right to develop a film based on the book within a specified time frame. A standard option agreement lasts for a specified period (a year, for example) and also gives the producer the right to extend the option for one or two additional time-limited periods, for additional payment.²

The purchase payment buys the right to actually make the film. Authors get real money for this part, because we are giving up Every Single Molecule of Creative Control over the story adaptation. The filmmaker has no right to alter your published book in any way, but she can pull its guts out through its mouth in the screen version if she wishes, and you are waiving all your right to object to that apart from moaning about it on the internet or to your friends over beer. This is called “waiving your moral rights” to the Property (your book) and goes like this:

“Alteration Rights: The right to change, add to, delete or take from, translate, or otherwise modify the Property in any manner Producer may in its discretion determine in connection with the Picture and other works that will embody all or part of the Property. To the fullest extent allowable under any applicable law, Author hereby irrevocably waives or assigns to Producer its so-called “moral rights” or “droit moral”. Author expressly acknowledges that many parties will contribute to the Picture and other works that will embody all or part of the Property. Accordingly, if under any applicable law the above waiver or assignment by Author of “moral rights” or “droit moral” is not effective, then Author consents to material alterations and agrees to exercise such rights in a manner which recognizes the contribution of and will not have a material adverse effect upon such other parties.”³

The bog-standard formula for purchase price is 2.5% of the film budget (in my contract, “budget” takes 61 words to define, so it’s not the same as the numbers you read in the papers about how much it cost to make a particular film), with a minimum (floor) and maximum (ceiling) price range established. The author gets the floor payment no matter how small the budget shrinks; she is limited to the ceiling payment no matter how the budget expands. So, for example, if the producer thinks your film will be in the $10-20M range, she will identify a floor of $250,000 (2.5% of 10M) and a ceiling of $500,000 (2.5% of $20M). As with publishing advances, everyone is taking their best shot at assigning some kind of value to the property without overpaying (the publisher/producer) or leaving money on the table (the writer). A lot of negotiation happens around these figures, as you might expect.

It’s also worth noting that in a standard contract, the exercise of the option can in practical terms mean the first minute of principal photography. They aren’t allowed to roll film (pixels?) on your movie until they have formally exercised the option; they don’t necessarily have to pay you until then. There have been cases of a film getting through casting and crew staffing, location scouting, pre-production, equipment rental, all the trucks showing up the first day… and Something Bad Happens⁴ and shooting doesn’t start and everyone goes home and oh well you don’t get a check.

My option contract was pretty standard in all these respects. I was paid for the full three years of the option life (1 year plus two extensions) while the script was being shopped. After that, everything about my relationship to this project stopped being standard. We’ll get into all that.

But right now, let’s talk about screenwriting dollars and dues.

To be considered professional by the industry, a screenwriter pretty much has to be a member of the Writer’s Guild of America West, WGAW. Generally, a screenwriter’s agent negotiates an upfront fee (the writer’s “quote”) to write a script on assignment. These scripts are works for hire, and become the property of the producer or studio. The writer gets paid whether a movie ever gets made or not. The WGAW has a scale of minimum payments for various steps in the writing process (e.g. a treatment, a draft, a revision, a polish): the writer’s quote can be way more than these minimums, if she has a track record. She can also be fired from the project and replaced by another writer. This happens all the time in pro screenwriting.

If a writer has written a “spec script” (not on assignment), then an interested producer or studio will take an option on the script, much the same as the option on a book: one sum for the right to try to develop a deal, and another if the movie deal comes together and the producer buys the script.

Just like any other writer, emerging screenwriters learn their craft by writing multiple spec scripts to learn the medium and to find their voice. By paying their dues. By acquiring knowledge of craft and technique; creating work; getting expert feedback; getting over the fact that other humans don’t think your writing is perfect and godlike; and then revising the work to apply the lessons and make it better. Repeat for years.

The key for me is expert feedback. Workshops, classes, experienced beta readers, and independent professional editors or writing coaches can all help accelerate your learning. There is absolutely nothing wrong with critique groups, but they are only useful if most writers there are A) better than you, and B) capable of cogent, specific and honest feedback, respectfully delivered. And even when emerging writers are great at providing feedback (as many are), they can’t necessarily tell you how to make it better.

I believe in the power of expert feedback to help me learn. This is why I went to Clarion, and why I served on the board of Clarion West for five years.

So: when I talked my way into the chance to rewrite the Solitaire script, not quite a year into the option, I knew I had just bought myself the chance to enter immediately into an environment of professional feedback in the form of notes from my producer Tommaso, and anyone he chose to show the script to. I am one of the luckiest emerging screenwriters I know, because of this opportunity. I came into it knowing that I was an amateur with no proven screenwriting ability, and that I couldn’t expect anyone to pay me pro rates to take a swing in the pro league.

So I signed a writing contract for a deferred fee, and I took a dollar up front to rewrite the script. I had a six-week deadline to do my best, with the knowledge that if I didn’t deliver on an appropriate level, Tommaso would say “thank you very much” and find someone else to work with. Cherry Road Films didn’t owe me an educational experience: it was my risk to take, and it was a gift. I am so grateful.

I’ll talk about the rewrite experience more in another post. But today I want you to meet my dollar! Instead of cutting a check, I asked Tommaso to pull a dollar out of his wallet, sign it, and send it to me. I think he thought I was wacky, but he did it. Here it is:

OL dollar

I will never spend this dollar. It was my admission letter to the Great School of Professional Screenplay Feedback, and from there to the Great Game of Filmmaking.

Enjoy your day.

¹ A Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope in which the editor would mail back your rejection…whenever. There is something unreplicable about being rejected 8 months later in an envelope addressed in your own handwriting. Good times!
² Don’t ever sign a publication or film option contract without a “drop dead” date — some version of “If you don’t take Action X within Time Period Y, all my rights revert to me and I get to keep the money.” Otherwise you are giving someone permission to tie up your publication or film rights forever if they want to. Anyone who asks you to do this is Not Playing Nicely.
³ To be clear, you actually give up your moral rights as soon as you sign the option agreement. But it doesn’t become as significant unless, and until, a film is actually made. That’s when they have to be sure that they own these rights free and clear.
⁴ “Creative differences” is a useful and versatile term sometimes employed in these situations.

The OtherLife Journals (OLJ) are a series of chronologically-random posts about writing, selling, and making the film OTHERLIFE. One woman’s view of the wild ride of indie filmmaking.

The power of no

The OtherLife Journals (OLJ) are a series of chronologically-random posts about writing, selling, and making the film OTHERLIFE. One woman’s view of the wild ride of indie filmmaking.

When someone in the film business wants to adapt a novel, they start by asking the writer or her agent if the film rights are available. The writer or agent respond, “Why yes, they are.” And generally the next thing that happens is… nothing. So when my agent let me know that Cherry Road Films in LA was expressing interest in Solitaire, I indulged in 20 seconds of what-if and then went back to work.

Too little money for the initial option term
Too short of an option term
Too long of an extension term for too little renewal money
Too little money for the purchase of film rights.

A film rights contract addresses two primary transactions: a development option, and a rights purchase agreement. They are linked. The option gives the producer the time-limited exclusive right to create a screenplay and develop it into a film deal (by attaching a director, key actors, money, a studio or distributor commitment, the list goes on). If the producer is able to secure a commitment to make the film, then they exercise their option to purchase the film rights: the rights purchase language spells out all those details.

Money, time, and creative control are the basic components of these agreements. Here begins the “not for the faint of heart” portion of our journey….

The number of authors who sign publishing or film rights contracts they don’t understand makes me crazy. It’s not enough to assume that your agent knows what she’s doing and will automatically get the best deal for you. You may trust that she has your best interests at heart, but she’s not the one who has to live with the terms. You do. And you’d be amazed at the number of agents who don’t really dig into the fine print details: they, like writers, assume some things cannot be negotiated. Oh, that’s the publisher’s boilerplate, or That’s standard film industry language. They won’t change that.

And maybe they won’t. But that doesn’t mean you should sign a contract without understanding that when it says blah blah blah legal language YAWN blah blah, sometimes what it really means is, for example, Not only do we own the right to publish this book, but we also have the right to publish any future books you write unless you can get someone to make a higher financial offer. This is what I call a company-store clause, and is a true example from a not-so-small press contract that an editing client almost signed within the last several years.

So, back to the offer to option Solitaire, me wringing my hands over my keyboard and whimpering But…Hollywood! Movie! Want! But I listened to my agents and I thought hard. That’s when I started realizing that it was up to me to decide what tradeoffs I am willing to make in my career, and what my personal balance is between business and art. Stephen King and J.K. Rowling no longer have to compromise (I’m guessing). The rest of us have choices to make.

Ultimately, I decided that the parameters of the offer didn’t work for me. I was ceding too much control for not enough compensation. So I told my agents to say no.

At about 5:15 PM the afternoon of the offer expiration date, my (unlisted) home phone rang, and the man on the other end introduced himself as Tommaso Fiacchino from Cherry Road Films. My eyebrows went up and I put on my best grownup professional voice, although inside-Kelley was squeaking Hollywood calling! Movie producer! Mrrph!

Tommaso said, “So, we don’t have a deal?”

However, because inside-Kelley was still squeaking, phone-Kelley didn’t really hear the question mark at the end. Phone-Kelley heard a guy dropping the hammer on the wee writer from the sticks. You missed the deadline and now we don’t have a deal. I honestly thought he was calling to personally inform me that this was the End Of The Line. (I was perhaps feeling a little freaked out :).

So I said, “Okay.” As in, okay, we don’t have a deal.

And he said, “…. Wait. No, we don’t have deal?” This time I heard the question mark.

“Has no one gotten back to you about this?” I said. And when it became clear that my LA agents hadn’t bothered to give him the courtesy of a formal no, I did it myself.

Being Tommaso (*waves at Tommaso fondly through the internet*), he ~~argued with me~~ earnestly attempted to persuade me to change my mind. He told me how much he loved the book. I agreed that I loved it too. He told me that it was unlikely that anyone else would offer for it, because it was three years after publication and the world had moved on. I agreed with him. And my answer was that I appreciated his interest, but his offer didn’t represent the value of the property.

“I’m very disappointed,” he said.

I said, “I am too.”

We wished each other well, and I put down the phone and walked upstairs to Nicola. I must have looked like a bunny in the headlights. “I just said no to Hollywood,” I said.

I had already decided not to take the offer, but there was something about saying no on the phone to Tommaso that made it so… real. And I was disappointed as hell. But I felt right about it. And I still do.

Nine months later, the phone rang. It was my agent. “Guess who’s back?” she said. Three months later I signed a standard option agreement with Cherry Road that did, in fact, represent the value of the property pretty well.

Sometimes the greatest power a creator has is the power of no. This was the first time I exercised it with OtherLife. But not the last. Stay tuned for more on that, and all the ways in which the OtherLife journey becomes very non-standard down the road….

Enjoy your day.

Drink and have feelz

The OtherLife Journals (OLJ) are a series of chronologically-random posts about writing, selling, and making the film OTHERLIFE. One woman’s view of the wild ride of indie filmmaking.

The OtherLife Journals begin! And the right place to start is with the novel Solitaire.

SolitaireSBCover I never believed Solitaire would be optioned for film (and how that happened is definitely a future post for OLJ). The book is not a good fit for a faithful adaptation. It’s an internally-based character-driven story of isolation and connection; of hope and fracture and rebuilding; the reconstruction of Jackal Segura, as the text says (one of my favorite scenes, that quiet brief narrative summary of putting down tenuous anchors). I love my book a lot, but honestly, if you film it straight off the page, you come out with 16 hours of people drinking and having feelz.

There are various kinds of books that filmmakers option (Caution! Massive generalizing ahead! There are thousands of reasons people option books…):

Enormous best-sellers that already have an audience who would love nothing more than to see the book on screen. Lord of the Rings, The Hunger Games, The Da Vinci Code. Every Jane Austen novel ever filmed. Filmmakers will spend a fuckton of money on these movies because audience, and because the stories are already full of the action, momentum, and external conflict that tentpole movies require.

Novels (or works of nonfiction) that touch an individual filmmaker deeply and personally, and that they believe will work on the screen with some necessary adjustments or compression. A story that makes someone willing to spend years of their life to bring it alive on screen just because it’s that important to them. Who want to make it as powerful and compelling to strangers as it is to them. And that’s a special thing: it’s the desire of an artist to be involved with another artist’s work.

There’s a book right now that I would do this for, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I see it in my head. I won’t be the person to write it because I don’t have the money or the cachet, but wow, I could write the shit out of that screenplay. Sigh. Examples of this kind of crazy love for a story: Twelve Years A Slave, Brokeback Mountain, Winter’s Bone, and pretty much every “faithful adaptation” ever made, successful or not.

Books with an idea at the core that someone finds appealingly cool and wants to use as the basis of a different story tailored for film (see above re: action, momentum, etc.). On Stranger Tides (which was the springboard for PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN #4). And Solitaire.

Tommaso Fiacchino optioned Solitaire for Cherry Road Films because of the core ideas of virtual confinement and time expansion (that allows Jackal to experience years in VC in only months of real time). The story that he brainstormed with Gregory Widen, the original writer on the script, uses these ideas as a launch pad to a different set of characters and situations. When I got involved with rewriting the script, one of the first things I did was to change the title to OTHERLIFE; that title is both more reflective of the movie itself, and (I hope) helps to set the movie apart from the book.

The interesting thing for me is that the ultimate story that we all created together for OTHERLIFE reflects so many of the essential emotional pivot points of Solitaire, even though it is utterly different in all the surface “plot” ways. Ren Amari in OTHERLIFE is not Ren Segura of Solitaire, but she has her talent, her family issues, her deep secret that she fights so hard to keep, her need to make things right. There’s no elevator, but there is… well, you’ll see. There is no Ko, but there is… well, you’ll see. There is no Solitaire-the-bar, which is part of the book that I love enormously. There is (sadly for me) no Snow, but that’s a fight I lost years ago, and that’s part of what makes the movies not every writer’s cup of tea: there are compromises.

Selling a book to the movies is everything that everyone says it is. I say in all seriousness and without snark, any writer who thinks that her precious work is too sacred to be adapted — which is to say actually changed, for better or for worse, to more readily conform to the new medium in which it will be expressed — ought not to sell her book to the movies. Novels make movies in our heads and hearts. But movies on screen are a different vehicle: every bit as potentially deep and true, but not the same kind of ride. As plays are also different, and poetry, and live music, and all the other kinds of storytelling we have. I think this is good, but it is definitely not for the faint of heart.

I imagined fiercely what it would be like to see Solitaire on screen. But that won’t happen. And what I have learned is that’s completely okay. I’m enormously proud of the film, and the collaboration that has made it what it is. It’s a better film than I would have written all by myself, and I had the singular experience of telling my own story in a completely different way — so different that it wasn’t until I went back and looked that I realized how closely related the book and the film are at the deepest levels.

This collaboration thing is what (I think) makes it hard for authors who give their books over to the movies and then wait to see what happens, because generally the author has no control or input. I was lucky (and also intentional) about having a greater role than that. The extended role I have is part of what I’ll talk about in these meandering journal entries. But for now I will say that it was hard, and scary, and exhilarating, and amazing, and that all the people I’ve worked with over the last 9 years have helped shape the film and made it better. That’s not a thing you get in fiction, where the prevailing ethos is “I Made This All By Myself” because that’s where the only credibility lies. Well, sisters and brothers, in film we all make a thing together, and let me tell you that it takes a fucking village to make a movie. The interesting question is whether your village is functional or not. I’m delighted to say that in the case of OTHERLIFE, the village rocks it.

As I said to my director in one of our final rounds of talking about the script, If all the ideas had to be mine, I wouldn’t write a screenplay, I’d write a book. Oh wait, I did that.

And also, I wrote a movie! Actually, in terms of how much the story changed over time, I wrote about seven movies. We’ll talk more about that somewhere down the road.

Thanks for starting this journey with me!

Enjoy your day.

The OtherLife Journals

I’ve been waiting — for years — to write about the journey of my film OTHERLIFE.

Why haven’t I, until now? Because it has always been my conviction that the first rule of Not-Yet-In-Production Club is you don’t talk about it. This makes sense to me. I don’t broadcast about undertakings outside my zone of control until there is a real outcome to report. It doesn’t make sense to me to chronicle in real time the miserable rejections, the almost-deals, or the occasional moments in which I mentally pointed a large rocket in the direction of The Film Industry. Or to trumpet the amazing highs, triumphs, and moments of deep satisfaction when I couldn’t give context.

It’s way too easy for impatient writers to shoot their own deals (and working relationships, and careers) in the foot these ways. Loose lips, etc. One of the reasons that my team on this film trust me is that I have kept my mouth shut FOR YEARS about the sausage making, and also about the Good News before everyone involved was ready to make it officially public. It’s a strategy I encourage all writers to consider: resist the temptation to share details just because you have them. Especially when you are miserable, frustrated, desperate for recognition, or in need of an ego boost. And even when you are radiant with joy. Not until it’s time.

Which doesn’t mean that I haven’t wanted to share. I have. And now the film is well into the editing and post-production process, and sometime in 2016 there will be a movie that I can see. And you too, I hope!

Those details are not yet in place, so I won’t speculate on them here/now. What I will do is begin a series of occasional and chronologically random posts about writing, selling, and making OTHERLIFE. I will talk about as much as I can that doesn’t violate confidentiality clauses or expose me to libel. I’ll answer questions if you have them — reach me at kelley [at] kelleyeskridge [dot] com. And I’ll do my best to be transparent and authentic about my experience. I have no idea where these journals will go, but I’m looking forward to sharing the ride with you.

More soon!

Enjoy your day.

My film OtherLife is shooting now in Perth

I’m thrilled to announce that my film OtherLife has begun shooting in Perth, Australia.
(Read the press release.)

OtherLife is directed by Ben C. Lucas (Wasted on the Young), a fiercely talented director and writer who brings depth and heart and passion to the film. The script is written by me, Gregory Widen (Highlander, Backdraft, The Prophecy), Lucas Howe, and director Ben Lucas. The film stars the fantastic Jessica De Gouw (Dracula, Arrow, and the forthcoming Underground), as well as Thomas Cocquerel (Kidnapping Mr. Heineken) and TJ Power (Eat Pray Love, The Sapphires, Wasted on the Young).

OtherLife is produced in Australia by Ticket to Ride, See Pictures, and WBMC. These fine people brought the film to Australia and put together a stunningly creative crew. You should see some of the photos… and you will! I’ll have a lot to say about the process in coming posts.

A special shoutout to Ben Lucas and producer Jamie Hilton for believing in the script and working so hard to bring it to Australia. Oh my god the stories…

And finally, three important people to thank:

Tommaso Fiacchino of Cherry Road Films (Al Otro Lado) optioned the novel more than 10 years ago. Tommaso gave me the opportunity to write the script revision a year later, after which I became the project’s lead writer. Tommaso and I have worked together since then in a close collaborative producer/writer process.

Marco Mehlitz of Lago Film (A Dangerous Method, Mr. Nobody, Only Lovers Left Alive) joined our Scooby Gang several years ago. His experience and expertise have been invaluable in navigating the wild waters of filmmaking. His belief in the script has kept us all going during the many times when things weren’t going well.

Tommaso and Marco have worked tirelessly on behalf of the script, and have afforded me a level of trust, access, and teamwork that is not always the norm for screenwriters. They are the champions of OtherLife. This film would not exist without them.

And thank you to my beloved Nicola Griffith for being here for every low, high, and what the fuck am I doing? moment.

Solitaire was first optioned more than 10 years ago. I became the lead writer on the script a year later. It took 3,326 days from the morning I began my first pass with the screenplay to the commencement of shooting. It has been, and continues to be, an amazing ride. I’ll have a lot more to see about it over the coming days, but for now I hope you’ll help me celebrate this dream of mine come true.

Science fiction’s big tent

I’m proud of science fiction.

Today I’m really proud of science fiction for making it crystal clear that this field is a Big Tent with space for all manner of folk, and that our house rules do not permit bullying, misogyny, racism, homophobia, transphobia, harassment, and denial of other people’s humanity.

Science fiction didn’t burn down our own house last night; we lit a signal fire to guide the way into the tent for anyone who wants to come in and explore our common humanity as well as our differences. Well done, everyone.

Today I’m especially proud to be a queer feminist bisexual speculative fiction writer. And I’m proud of my field for being so diverse.

Congratulations to all the Hugo winners and to everyone who continues to make the tent bigger.

A don’t-miss event for Seattle readers: Cory Doctorow in conversation

Don’t miss writer Cory Doctorow’s upcoming Seattle event!

Fabulous writer, teacher, and Boing Boing co-editor Cory Doctorow will teach the Clarion West Writers Workshop in late July. His work is terrific (Little Brother, Homeland, Pirate Cinema, the list goes on…), and I’m thrilled that the writers at Clarion West will benefit from his expertise and experience.

And so can you! Come see Cory in conversation with Geekwire columnist Frank Catalano on Tuesday, July 28 at 7:00 pm. Tickets are $10 from Brown Paper Tickets.

Proceeds from the event support the ongoing operations of Clarion West, which has for more than 30 years helped emerging writers level up and kickstart their careers. When you spend this fascinating evening listening to Cory read, talk, and answer questions, you’re also supporting one of the best writing workshops on the planet.

Go buy a ticket and have some fun!

Enjoy your day.

Readerconomania

I’m excited about Readercon. Nicola is a Guest of Honor (GoH), which I’ve decided makes me an unofficial Wife of Honor (WoH!). I’m officially a wife, to be clear: it’s the Honored part that I’m co-opting because it’s fun to be a team with Nicola in the science fiction world (and anywhere else).

The lovely people of Readercon have been amazingly patient with all this, and have even agreed to throw an 80s dance party so I can exercise my exhibitionist streak. I’ll also be talking about Nicola’s work, as well as conducting the official GoH interview with her onstage; appearing on a panel about Bad Influences, and one about women over 40 in science fiction. Otherwise you can find me at all of Nicola’s events, or hanging out in the bar.

And I’m giving a Special Talk about the book-to-script process of the movie based on Solitaire. Many of you know that I’ve been working as the lead screenwriter on the film for many years (after talking my way into the opportunity to revise the original script). Those years of work are close to fruition, friends. I very much hope to have some detailed news to share soon, but in the meantime I’m looking forward to the chance to talk about my screenwriting journey so far, and the ins-and-outs of the Hollywood and indie film models as I’ve experienced them so far.

Here is the full schedule of events for both me and Nicola, with editorial comments appended. We think Readercon’s going to be a blast, and we hope to see you there!

Thursday July 10
8:00 PM The Long Slow Burn of Critique.
(Jedediah Berry, John Clute, Nicola Griffith, Elizabeth Hand, Gary K. Wolfe)
A critique can become embedded in a writer’s brain, helpfully influencing their future work or causing lingering pain. Nicola Griffith can still quote chunks of the Locus review of her 1992 novel Ammonite. From the other side, Gary K. Wolfe has said he felt haunted after being told that a writer whose work he reviewed subsequently developed a writing block for over a year. Our panel of critics and writers (and critics who are also writers) will share stories of critiques that stuck and stung, ranging from humorous to bitter and back again.

Editorial comment: My current FOAD critique experience is the one that opines that A) Solitaire is crap, which I can handle, and B) clearly Nicola contributed all the best bits, which makes me want to explode with rage. I have other war stories about critique, and I’m looking forward very much to hearing what the panelists have to say.

Friday July 11
2:00 PM Reading: Nicola Griffith.
Nicola Griffith reads new stuff.

Editorial comment: I know what she’s reading and it is all AWESOME. Seriously, not to be missed. One of the best essays I’ve ever read from her, and a bit of the new Hild.

3:00 PM The Genre-Sized Chip on the Shoulder.
(Nicola Griffith, Sandra Kasturi, Eugene Mirabelli, Kenneth Schneyer, Peter Straub)
Discrimination against speculative literature still exists, but it appears to be fading quickly. Literary awards and critics are recognizing speculative works, and major publishers are publishing them. The nerd/jock distinction still exists among teens, but the line has blurred considerably. Is there value to continuing to see the genre as belittled and beleaguered, and genre fans as an oppressed minority? Or do we have a sort of community PTSD, where we’re reacting to memories of mistreatment more than to actual recent events? If the literary world is ready to accept us, are we ready to be accepted?

5:00 PM The Works of Nicola Griffith.
(Jonathan Crowe, Kelley Eskridge, Alena McNamara)
Nicola Griffith was born in Yorkshire, England, but has lived in the U.S. for many years with her wife, Kelley Eskridge. She began publishing SF with “Mirror and Burnstone” in Interzone in 1987. Her novels include Ammonite (1992, Tiptree and Lambda Award winner), Slow River (1994, Nebula and Lambda winner), The Blue Place (1998), Stay (2002), Always (2007), and Hild (2013). She has also co-edited three anthologies with Stephen Pagel: Bending the Landscape: Fantasy (1997), Bending the Landscape: Science Fiction (1998), and Bending the Landscape: Horror (2001). She has published a memoir, And Now We Are Going to Have a Party: Liner Notes to a Writer’s Early Life (2007), another Lambda Award winner. Join us for a discussion of her work.

Editorial comment: I’m delighted to be included in this discussion, and hope the audience won’t find it weird that one wife is talking about the other’s work. There is no Right Perspective on any author’s work, in my opinion, but I think I have a particular window into this author’s work. I look forward to sharing it, and to hearing the other panelists’ ideas.

10:30 PM Meet the Pros(e). Meet the writers attending Readercon!
AND AFTERWARDS… 80s Dance Party!

Editorial comment: I want to dance with the world. I’ll start with Readercon.

Saturday July 12
9:00 AM Kaffeeklatsch. Nicola Griffith, Elaine Isaak.

11:00 AM Autographs. Nicola Griffith, Paul Tremblay.

12:00 PM “Bad” Influences.
(Suzy McKee Charnas, Ellen Datlow, Kelley Eskridge, Elizabeth Hand, Maria Dahvana Headley, Kit Reed, Julia Rios)
This female writer and editor roundtable discussion will focus on the non-genre, possibly “inappropriate” readings of our formative years that contributed to our current careers in the feminist fantastical universe. Teenage obsessions with Charles Bukowski, Henry Miller, Herman Hesse, Salvador Dalí, and Vladimir Nabokov often led us to people like Angela Carter and Claude Cahun. What do we keep of those first artistic obsessions, and what do we critique? Which of our early influencers helped make us into the artists we are today—and which ones make us shake our heads in bewilderment?

Editorial comment: This has been so interesting to think about! I may have to bring up Playboy magazine…

2:00 PM What Joanna Russ’s Work Meant to Me.
(Elizabeth Bear, Lila Garrott, Nicola Griffith, Eileen Gunn, Gary K. Wolfe)
Russ, Alice Sheldon, Ursula K. Le Guin, and other feminist writers of the 1970s inspired a whole generation of female writers and readers—and also stirred things up within fandom as a whole, upending expectations of what women could write and what they should write. Now a new generation of writers is reading Russ through the lenses of third-wave feminism, womanism, and other philosophies both distinct from and responding to that pioneering work. Our panelists will talk about their experiences of reading Russ (and her contemporaries) and the ways that her work invigorates, challenges, and connects with today’s writers and readers.

3:00 PM Beautiful and Terrible as the Morn: Celebrating Spec Fic’s Older Women.
(Beth Bernobich, LJ Cohen, Samuel Delany, Kelley Eskridge, Eileen Gunn, Diane Weinstein)
In a 2014 blog post, Kari Sperring wrote, “Most women who are now over about 40 have been told their whole lives to be good, to keep their heads down, to keep on working away quietly and to wait their turn. And now, within sff, at the point when their male contemporaries are celebrated, these same women are being told, No, it’s too late for you, you don’t matter enough; that space is needed. Get out of the way.” Judith Tarr concurred in a post on Book View Café, saying, “Our culture makes a cult of youth…. But males as they age manage to stay visible, and even manage to keep matinee-idol status—and if they’re writers, they become literary lions. Females simply drop off the radar.” Women over 40 have been shaping the genre since its beginning, as readers, writers, editors, agents, publishers, artists, critics, and more. This panel will celebrate the past, recent, and forthcoming work of older women, and help to put it back on everyone’s radar.

Editorial comment: I love this panel already for the title, and I have opinions for sure.

4:00 PM Nicola Griffith Interviewed by Kelley Eskridge.

Sunday July 13
10:00 AM Reading Stance and Genre.
(Peter Dubé, Chris Gerwel, Nicola Griffith, Alex Jablokow, Sarah Pinsker)
In 2013, Nicola Griffith’s Hild was nominated for the Nebula award, alongside Karen Joy Fowler’s We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves. Under Best Novella that same year was “Wakulla Springs” by Andy Duncan and Ellen Klages. Going further back, Peter Straub won a World Fantasy Award for Koko. By most critical definitions none of these are works of speculative fiction, but, as Gary K. Wolfe said on an episode of the Coode Street Podcast, “if you approach Hild with the expectations of a fantasy reader, you’ll still get most of the asethetic delights you’re looking for.” He asked, “What if we approach genre not from the point of view of theoretical definitions or market categories or even the author’s intention, but from how we choose to read a particular work?” This panel will explore the many answers to that question, from many perspectives.

11:00 AM The Shirley Jackson Awards.
(Mike Allen, John Chu, Ellen Datlow, Daryl Gregory, Nicola Griffith, Gary K. Wolfe)
In recognition of the legacy of Shirley Jackson’s writing, and with permission of the author’s estate, the Shirley Jackson Awards have been established for outstanding achievement in the literature of psychological suspense, horror, and the dark fantastic. Jackson (1916–1965) wrote classic novels such as The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle, as well as one of the most famous short stories in the English language, “The Lottery.” Her work continues to be a major influence on writers of every kind of fiction, from the most traditional genre offerings to the most innovative literary work. The awards given in her name have been voted upon by a jury of professional writers, editors, critics, and academics, with input from a Board of Advisors, for the best work published in the calendar year of 2014 in the following categories: Novel, Novella, Novelette, Short Story, Single-Author Collection, and Edited Anthology.

1:00 PM The OtherLife of Solitaire. Kelley Eskridge.
Kelley Eskridge will discuss the production of the film OtherLife, based on her novel Solitaire. Eskridge has been involved in the film at every stage, and will discuss the ways the translation from book to film has changed the work and her story.

A literary convention full of great conversations, drink, dancing, and Special Talking. What could be better? I hope you’ll join us.

Enjoy your day.

Join me Feb 19 in conversation with author Robert Levy

If you’re in the Seattle area on Thursday night, February 19, come to Third Place Books (Lake Forest Park location), and join me in conversation with author and playwright Robert Levy about his first novel The Glittering World. Edited to add: At 7:00PM! Because wouldn’t it be nice if we were all there together? 😉

It’ll be fun! Robert is smart and charming, and his book has already garnered praise from Kelly Link, Elizabeth Hand, Christopher Barzak, and many more.

What’s the book about? I’m so glad you asked:

When Michael “Blue” Whitley — a former party boy turned up-and-coming Brooklyn chef — returns with three friends to the remote Canadian commune of his birth, he discovers that his entire life has been a carefully orchestrated lie. He is in fact someone else altogether, a replacement for a local child who disappeared twenty-five years earlier. He is something not quite human.

Only now it’s Blue’s turn to vanish, leaving his friends to unravel the mystery of his abduction. Soon, psychology and skepticism collide with old-world folklore and superstition, revealing the secret history of the commune as well as that of an ancient race of beings that inhabits the hidden corners of the land.

Set among the artisans, burnouts, and New Age mystics of rural Cape Breton, The Glittering World is a dark and modern fairy tale, a novel of self-identity and supernatural suspense.

New Yorkers can help Robert celebrate the launch of the book Tuesday, Feb 10 at the release party at BookCourt in Brooklyn. Robert also has bookstore appearances in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Westfield NJ, as well as an appearance at Seattle’s Mythic Worlds convention.

Join us at Third Place!

Enjoy your day.

This

This quote from Anne Lamott. This this this.

“Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.” — Anne Lamott