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Throwback Thursdays: Flying Snakes, Seeing Hands, Glorious Weeping Eyes

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

There’s more to American history than the Revolutionary War, but it’s easy to forget that from the vantage point of the 21st Century. Luckily, we have W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O’Neal Gear to remind us, with their incredible series North America’s Forgotten Past. To celebrate the release of the newest novel in the series, opens in a new windowPeople of the Morning Star, we went back to the Tor Newsletter from opens in a new windowMay of 2008, when they wrote about the largest city in North American in A.D. 1350. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

People of the Weeping Eye by W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O'Neal GearBy W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O’Neal Gear

Okay, here’s the question: The year is A.D. 1350. Name the largest city in America? Come on, it can’t be that hard. This is America, for Pete’s sake! Remember? Like, you live here. You know London was the largest city in England, and Paris in France. Surely you must know the largest city in America at the same time. Okay, we’ll give you a hint: it dominated four states for nearly four hundred years—that’s one hundred years longer than New York City has been in existence. This city had economic ties to Canada in the north, Florida in the south, and Oklahoma in the west. For its first two hundred years it was surrounded by a twenty-foot-high wall with bastions every thirty yards. After that it was so powerful no enemies could mount a sufficient threat to justify the great fortifications. Still don’t know the name of this city?

That’s America. We’re a curious country. One out of four Americans claims to have some percentage of Native American ancestry. Of those, the majority claim some Cherokee, Choctaw, Creek, Chickasaw, or Seminole blood. Ask those who are Italian, and they can tell you something about Romans, the Renaissance, Venice, Florence, or Rome. Others know something about their German, Spanish, or Irish heritage. Why, then, has our Native American heritage been forgotten?

People of the Weeping Eye is another of our novels about “America’s Forgotten Past.” But this one is special: it deals with the great civilization that flourished around Moundville, Alabama. (And, yes, that is the answer to the question asked above.) While Moundville wasn’t the only powerful city in the Southeast, it survived the longest, was the most powerful, and built the largest monuments. You can still go to Moundville; it’s a twenty-minute drive south of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. You won’t see the great wall, or the multi-storied buildings that once stood there.

What you will see are foundations, but even seven hundred years later, they remain impressive. Why, you might ask, are foundations all that are left? These people built with logs and roofed with thatch. Log buildings-no matter how large-don’t survive in humid forests for six hundred years.

Who built Moundville? The best guess is that ancestral Chickasaw were responsible. They came in around 1000 A.D., conquered the ancestral Alabama peoples, and built a city that would inherit part of grand Cahokia’s legacy. We call this period the Mississippian. To newcomers in American archaeology, Mississippian describes a series of cultures that traded and warred, built earthworks, crafted stylistically similar art, and built similar houses and cities.

Despite the fact that we are writing about America’s past, for many readers, People of the Weeping Eye will seem like epic fantasy. Here is a universe that is at once familiar and ultimately foreign. We rely heavily on the myths and legends of the great Southeastern tribes. They believed the world was divided into three realms: that of the sky, earth, and underworld. Each of these worlds was filled with powerful and dangerous spirit-beings. The most powerful were those with mixed characteristics—like snakes with wings, birds that lived underwater, and flying fish. Only the most powerful shaman, like the Kala Hiki in Weeping Eye, could locate and pass through the holes that led from one realm to the other. Snakes were water beings, and the most powerful of these was the horned serpent. He had rainbow-colored scales, horns on his head, and great crystal eyes.

Our characters, Trader, Old White, and the Contrary girl, Two Petals, travel the same Mississippi River that flows today. They pass sites like the Shiloh Mounds and Cahokia, a World Heritage Site. If you go to Moundville, you can climb the same stairs that Smoke Shield and Flying Hawk did. You can look down from the bluff where Mary Wet Bear heard singing rise from the Black Warrior River. The novel is about actual places and archaeology. In museums you can see many of the artifacts we describe in the novel. We include a bibliography at the end so that interested readers can go to the same source material we use.

We hope you enjoy this journey through America’s forgotten past, and into the heart of one of the grandest civilizations in the world. Watch out for Two Petals!

This article is originally from the May 2008 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: Cat-Waxing 101

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

Back in opens in a new windowMarch of 2012, author Elizabeth Bear shared the tricks successful writers use—tricks you can definitely trust, now that she’s finished her critically-acclaimed Eternal Sky trilogy with the publication of opens in a new windowSteles of the Sky. We hope you enjoy her advice in this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

Range of Ghosts by Elizabeth BearBy Elizabeth Bear

Over the years, I have written a great many articles and blog posts dealing with the nuances of the publishing industry, but there’s one topic I’ve never touched on before.

It’s one of the arcane secrets of the successful writer, jealously guarded. One of the secret handshakes of the clubhouse of publishing success.

Only now, with the cooperation of Tor, can I reveal it to you—and I’m risking my career and perhaps even my very safety to do so. It’s something every writer needs to know, and from time immemorial that secret has been passed down in back rooms and at two a.m. sessions in convention bars.

I speak of “How to wax a cat.”

I can’t count, over the years, the number of times a dewy-eyed young would-be author has looked at me in surprise and horror after overhearing a few casual lines passed between more established writers. “Bear!” they cry. “You are an animal lover! Why would you do something so terribly cruel?

Well, Grasshoppers, I am here now to reveal a great secret. The cat is a metaphor.

Cat-waxing (also known as cat vacuuming to some) is something writers undertake in order to complete important research, to give the brain the time it needs to do the subconscious processing so essential to creative work. There are a number of techniques, but here’s how I handle it.

First, you must determine if you wish to wax your cat for shininess, or for smoothness. Both have advantages—reducing allergens, waterproofing—but if you are going to wax your cat for smoothness I recommend sedating it first—for the comfort of the cat, and the safety of the human.

In either case, before you commence waxing, you must first create a clean and dust-free environment in which to wax. Dust will adhere readily to a freshly waxed cat, and then you’ll just have to start all over again. To create a proper waxing environment, select a space that you can completely control, clean it thoroughly, and drape it in plastic sheeting. You’ll want to wear a freshly laundered white-cotton full-body coverall or perhaps a Nuclear-Biological-Chemical suit as well, to avoid getting fibers from your clothes stuck in the cat wax.

The television show Dexter provides an excellent model of the sort of environment that’s best.

Having prepared your waxing chamber, it’s important to secure a good wax. There are several dedicated brands of cat wax which do an excellent job, and a number of writers use non-proprietary waxes, such as Mr. Zog’s Sex Wax (despite the name, intended for surfboards) or Homer Formby’s furniture wax. You will likely wish to experiment with a variety of waxes before making your final selection.

Once you have secured the cat, the space, the sedative, and the wax, you will also require a source of warm water and some dust-free cloths. First, grasp your cat gently but firmly by the scruff…

…oh, I see we’re out of time.

This article is originally from the March 2012 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: Odd Historical Facts

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

A lot of our authors spend considerable amounts of time researching for their books. Often, they stumble across weird and interesting facts that stick with them. Mary Robinette Kowal is no different, and when her book Shades of Milk and Honey came out in opens in a new windowAugust of 2010, she wanted to share some of the odd historical facts she discovered. To celebrate the release of her new book, Valour and Vanity, enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

Shades of Milk and Honey by Mary Robinette KowalBy Mary Robinette Kowal

When one decides to write a historical novel, even if it is a fantasy, one must brace oneself for copious amounts of research. Research which feels as though it will never end. The curious thing about all this research is that much of it does not show up on the page. While writing Shades of Milk and Honey, set in an alternate England in 1814 I learned a number of things which surprised me. Here are a few my favorites.

What it means when a letter was crossed.

In Jane Austen’s day, sending letters was expensive and you were charged for the number of pages. The way to avoid a hefty postage fee was to write the letter, then turn the page 90 degrees and write across the previously written lines. (Trivia note: I had a reference to a crossed letter in Shades of Milk and Honey but cut it because it was too hard to explain and the fact that it was crossed wasn’t important to the story.) Curious about what a crossed letter looked like? Here’s an example from Miss Austen herself in the Morgan collection.

There is no such thing as a left shoe.

Until about the 1850s, left and right shoes were identical. Only by wearing them would the shoe begin to acquire a left and right shape. When Louis XVIII was fleeing Napoleon in 1815 he said, “…it’s my slippers that I regret most… Nobody understands what it means to lose slippers that have taken the mold of one’s foot.” While footwear is important, he might perhaps need to work on his priorities.

How to turn the table.

A formal dinner was a lengthy affair lasting several hours and had very rigid etiquette tied to it. Typically served in several courses, each course would consist of dishes already set upon the table. Gentlemen would be assigned to escort a lady to dinner, seating her on his right. He would help the lady with dishes and would converse with her during the first course. After the first course, all the dishes would be removed and replaced. A gentlemen would turn and converse with the lady on his left and vice versa. If you were pinned with an unfortunate conversationalist as a dinner partner, you couldn’t wait to turn the table.

Hello is not a word.

I am going to let you know a shameful thing. I slipped when writing Shades of Milk and Honey and use “Hello” in the first chapter of the novel but it’s not a word in 1814. I had rooted it out everywhere else and didn’t notice this one until recording the audio book. In 1814, the word “halloo” was most often used to call hounds. “Hullo” was usually an expression of surprise. Although “hello” is recorded as early as 1830, it didn’t become a standard greeting until the invention of telephone. To greet someone during the Regency one says “Good day” or perhaps “Good evening.”

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There’s more information about the novel and the people behind the trailer at https://www.ShadesOfMilkAndHoney.com/trailer.

This article is originally from the August 2010 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

Throwback Thursdays: The Half-Made Frontier

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

Following his spectacularly reviewed Half-Made World duology, Felix Gilman has now written a sweeping stand-alone tale of Victorian science fiction, arcane exploration, and planetary romance: The Revolutions. To celebrate the new book, we thought we’d go back to October 2010, when Felix wrote about how his first genre-blending book came to be. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

Poster Placeholder of - 32 By Felix Gilman

The Half-Made World is a western, kind of. A western with monsters. I didn’t start with the intention of writing a kind-of-western, but it soon became clear that that was where Creedmoor belonged, so that was that. Also, I’d just written two long books about Great Big Cities and wanted to get outdoors for a while.

I made a frontier—not any frontier in actual human history, but something like the Frontier, or the idea of the Frontier, turned up to eleven. It was a western, so I gave them guns. Now they had a frontier and they had guns, so there had to be a war. That’s just the way things work.

The aggressor in this war is called the Line. It’s a metaphor for Industry and Modernity, one of those metaphors made literal and concrete and allowed to run wild, chewing up the scenery, which for me is at least half the fun of writing fantasy. It’s a nightmare view of the future, as seen by the people the future is about to crush. It’s crowded lightless cities, off on the horizon, with vast smoking factories that can out-produce your little town in a matter of moments, rendering you obsolete. It’s the enclosure of land and the leveling of hills and acid rain. It’s ruthless and acquisitive and amoral and vast and rich and powerful beyond comprehension. It’s tanks and trucks and rockets and poison gas and barbed wire and a variety of models of spying machines and flying machines, including all the gothic and bat-winged ornithopter-type craft that never worked in the real world but once seemed like they were going to. It’s the dark side of steampunk. It’s the First World War. It’s an aggressively expanding industrial civilization run by the half-mechanical half-demonic minds of thirty-eight train Engines of monstrous size, who communicate with each other across the continent through the clatter and din of industry like whalesong, and who do not value human life. And Creedmoor works for their enemies, who are even worse.

The book started with Creedmore’s voice. He was making fun of something and talking to himself, which meant that he was also talking to me. I think he had a name right from the first moment: Creedmoor. He’s an asshole. A genuinely bad man—a killer, a liar, a thief, and pleased with himself about it. He’s heading up the side of a hill. There is dust, sweat, hot red sun. He’s definitely armed and he is almost certainly wearing a hat, but it isn’t clear whether he is riding a horse or walking. Along the side of the road there are billboards with peeling posters. At the top of the hill there is a large building, probably a hospital, full of hardworking decent people. When Creedmoor gets to the top of the hill he is going to have to lie and cheat his way into that building. I don’t know why yet or what is going to happen when he did except that it is going to be weird and bloody. He is talking in his head, but not, on further investigation, to himself, but to something else—I don’t know what. I know I shouldn’t like him but I am starting to, sort of.

Some of this scene survives now, about halfway into the book, though there are no billboards and no hill and Creedmoor sounds less cartoon-Irish than he did at first, which should be a relief for all concerned.

When I sat down to write again the next morning there was a woman, getting off a train. It was a very big train, and there was steam. There was that hot red sun again, and dust. She was wearing white, and I knew that she was very clever and a very long way from home, and I knew her name was Liv.

Two characters, and a war. Everything else in the world opened out around them, out to the horizon, out to the frontier.

The Revolutions (978-0-7653-3717-7; $26.99) will be published on April 1, 2014. Felix Gilman can be found online at felixgilman.com.

This article is originally from the October 2010 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: The Way of Kings: An Introduction

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

Words of Radiance came out earlier this week! Brandon Sanderson celebrated his new book by writing about his personal history with epic fantasy in the Tor/Forge Newsletter. To continue our immersion in the world of the The Stormlight Archives, we thought we’d revisit this September 2010 article, in which Sanderson introduced his new series. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

The Way of Kings by Brandon SandersonBy Brandon Sanderson

I’ve been asked to introduce The Way Of Kings to you. And I have no idea how to start.

This is an odd position for me. Before, I’ve found it easy to explain my novels. Each one was built around one or two central premises. The gang of thieves who want to rob an immortal emperor. A man cast down by a terrible, magical disease and forced to rebuild a society among those similarly afflicted. A boy who finds that librarians secretly rule the world.

Kings has stymied me each time I’ve tried to describe it. I often end up talking about its creation. (How I started work on it over fifteen years ago. How I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words worth of worldbuilding for it. How much the project has come to mean to me over the decades.) But such things describe the book but don’t actually tell you anything. And so this time, I’m going to try to talk about what The Way Of Kings is.

It’s a book about characters I love. I’ve begun to build a reputation as the “magic system” guy. The author who creates interesting types of magic for every book he writes. On one hand, this delights me, as I do put a lot of effort into the magic in my books. But a great book for me isn’t about a magic, it’s about the people that the magic affects.

The book started its life many years ago being about a young man who made a good decision. I wrote the entire book that way before realizing I’d done it wrong. So I started over from scratch and had him take the other fork, the more difficult fork. The fork that cast him into some of the worst imaginable circumstances, ground him against the stones of a world where there is no soil or sand on the ground.

My goal: to prove to myself, and to him, that the ‘good’ decision was not actually the best one. The Way Of Kings is his story, though he shares the space with several others. They’ll get their own books later in the series.

I want to tell you more, but I don’t have the space here. I want to talk about the art in the book (it’s ambitious, unlike anything I’ve seen tried in an epic fantasy novel before.) I want to talk about the scope of the series, the distinctive world which is so much larger and more real than anything I’ve worked on before. I want to explain the book.

But, for now, I think it’s best to just show you instead.

Enjoy.

The Way of Kings (978-0-7653-2808-3) by Brandon Sanderson was released August 31 from Tor.

This article is originally from the September 2010 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: Before the Golden Age

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

In Carrie Vaughn’s After the Golden Age, Celia, the daughter of superheroes tries to live a normal life, lacking the power of her parents. It’s not easy. Now, in January’s Dreams of the Golden Age, Celia’s daughter is developing her own superpowers, and trying to hide them from her parents… Back in May of 2011, Carrie Vaughn wrote a piece for the Tor/Forge Newsletter about the inspiration for her series: her love of superheroes. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

After the Golden Age by Carrie VaughnBy Carrie Vaughn

A lot of people have been asking me about comic books. After the Golden Age is so obviously inspired by the classic comic-book superheroes, surely I must have a lifelong love for them. But I have a terrible confession: I didn’t really read comic books when I was growing up, and didn’t start until college, when I encountered Watchmen and Batman: The Dark Knight Returns and all those seminal graphic novels that changed everything. Instead, I watched a lot of TV, and that’s how I fell in love with superheroes.

I grew up in a golden age of TV superheroes: Wonder Woman, the Incredible Hulk, the Bionic Woman, and Six Million Dollar Man, not to mention those Spider-Man shorts on The Electric Company, the Super Friends cartoon, Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends (I was shocked, shocked I tell you, to find out that Bobby/Iceman was supposed to be part of the X-Men. I thought, he doesn’t have time for that, he’s off saving the world with Spider-Man and Firestar!), and a bunch of others I’ve probably forgotten. I even adored The Greatest American Hero, which was on some level a spoof—but a spoof that remained true to the spirit of superheroism. Ralph really did have powers, and he really did help people, however goofy he was while doing it.

I had Wonder Woman and Supergirl Underoos. My second time trick-or-treating on Halloween, I dressed up as Wonder Woman. I spent a lot of time on the playground in preschool pretending to be Wonder Woman, including getting into a knock-down argument with the other kids about what she would really look like flying in her invisible jet. (I insisted on sticking my arms out and running around making airplane noises. I was informed that this was incorrect, and that she would merely scoot through the air in a seated position. Well, sure, I said. But my way is more fun.) I would spin around and pretend that my costume changed, just like Lynda Carter’s. Spin Wonder Woman! Spin Scuba Wonder Woman! Spin Motorcycle Wonder Woman! It was awesome. And dizzy.

I tried reading comic books—my brother’s, not mine. Girls were not supposed to read comic books, so nobody gave me any. Fortunately, Rob shared his. I gotta tell you, early 1980’s runs of Superman and X-Men and such were kind of…boring. Not nearly as interesting as what I was watching on TV. I later found out from comic-guru friends that it wasn’t just me—this was not the best time to be reading comic books.  It was the lull before Alan Moore and Frank Miller knocked the stuffings out of the genre.

These days, I have boxes of my own comic books. It’s even okay for girls to read them now, which is awesome. I came to comics as an adult, for the most part. But my true love has always been for the superheroes rather than the medium they first appeared in. Which is why, I think, I wrote a novel about them instead of a comic book. I didn’t need the pictures. I wanted the hows and whys and thoughts and meaning. The “what if?” questions that made me daydream as a kid. That still make me daydream.

‘Cause you know, I still occasionally dress up as Wonder Woman.

This article is originally from the May 2011 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: Great Books You May have Missed

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

It’s a new year, and a lot of us are making new reading resolutions. Mine is to finally read those books I’ve been meaning to read for years now. In February of 2010, senior editor Melissa Ann Singer had the same thought. Here’s her look back at some wonderful books you may have missed. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

The Many Deaths of the Black Company by Glen Cook Science Fiction Hall of Fame edited by Robert Silverberg The Man Whose Teeth Were Really Exactly Alike by Philip K. Dick The World Inside by Robert Silverberg

Great Books You May have Missed

By Melissa Ann Singer, Senior Editor

It’s a sad truth that books are, at least at this point in the space-time continuum, ephemeral. Oh, sure, there are sellers of used books; and there are collectors who hold onto their copies forever; and there’s the brave, newish worlds of POD and epublication, which might ensure that nothing ever goes out of print…but there will still be the problem of letting people know about cool, interesting, enjoyable books that were published before (as in before now).

We’ve made it something of a cottage industry here, with the Orb list dedicated to restoring to print, or keeping in print, classic works of fantasy and science fiction; and with the Tor trade paperback list, which has become a good place to find new editions of books you may not have noticed the first time they came around.

The first few months of 2010 are a perfect illustration of our regard for “older” books.

In January 2010, we published The Many Deaths of the Black Company by Glen Cook, one in a series of omnibus editions of Glen Cook’s stellar military fantasy series, The Black Company. The Many Deaths of the Black Company contains two Black Company novels, Water Sleeps and Soldiers Live.

Hawkmoon: The Jewel in the Skull by Michael MoorcockThat same month also saw the release of Hawkmoon: The Jewel in the Skull by Michael Moorcock—the first of several Hawkmoon volumes we’ll publish in the next two years. I’m a huge Moorcock fan myself and I was very excited to see these books on our list—my old mass market editions are too fragile to read. Moorcock’s tales of the multiverse and the neverending battle between Order and Chaos are a kind of flamboyant fantasy that just sings when done right…and Moorcock is a master of it.

In February, we have a pair of blockbuster anthologies. In Orb, The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Volume Two B. I know, it’s a mouthful, and not the most attractive title you’ve ever seen. Xanth by Two by Piers AnthonyThe Science Fiction Hall of Fame honors great short sf&f fiction published before the Nebula Awards were invented; Volume One contained short stories and Volume Two A and Volume Two B contain classic novellas. All three are big fat collections well worth reading. On the fantasy side of things, we are re-presenting Legends, a doorstop of a collection of fantasy novellas by modern writers. And on a lighter note, we’re publishing a Xanth omnibus, Xanth by Two, containing Demons Don’t Dream and Harpy Thyme.

March will see the Orb edition of Robert Silverberg’s The World Inside, a classic look at overpopulation by one of sf’s most thoughtful writers, as well as a trade paperback edition of Philip K. Dick’s The Man Whose Teeth Were All Exactly Alike, part of our ongoing program of restoring lost or little-known PKD books to print.

The Point Man by Steve EnglehartAlso slated for March is The Point Man by Steve Englehart. While Englehart is perhaps best known as a comic book writer, The Point Man demonstrated he was a stellar wordsmith in any form. After a long hiatus, Englehart has returned to writing novels, and The Long Man, a follow-up to The Point Man, will also be released in March.

Throughout the year, Tor strives to offer you the best in fantasy and science fiction, old and new. Though I’m a long-term fan, I’ve run into more than one previously unknown—to me—gem on our reissue lists. I know you will too.

This article is originally from the February 2010 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: A Gift From Orson Scott Card to All His Fans

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

Happy holidays! In the holiday season of 2007, Orson Scott Card revisited Battle School and the life of Ender Wiggin in A War of Gifts. How, exactly, was it possible for one to write a holiday story, a Christmas story, set in the Battle School? A place where even birthdays aren’t remembered? Editor Beth Meacham had no idea, and in the December 2007 Tor Newsletter, she shared the story of how A War of Gifts came to be, and how surprising, emotional, and touching the result was. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and have a lovely holiday season!

A War of Gifts by Orson Scott Card

By Beth Meacham, Executive Editor

“Wouldn’t it be fun,” we said, “to do a holiday gift book by Orson Scott Card?”

You know, those little books you see at the check-outs of book and card stores, around this time of year? Kind of a cross between a book and a card? We call them “precious size” books…and I don’t even know why. Could it be irony?

The conversation went on: What should it be? What about an Alvin story, Christmas at Horace Guester’s Inn? What about one of the other series?

“Wouldn’t it,” I asked, “be a good idea to ask Scott about this? Before we, you know, schedule the non-existent book or something? Not that we haven’t done that before.

But Scott Card had a better idea. That’s why he’s the writer—the creator—and we’re the editors and publicists and sales people who get it from him to you.

“What about an Ender story?” he said.

Ender? What? Christmas at the Battle School? You don’t normally think of Ender’s Game and heart-warming precious books together, you know? Well, at least I didn’t.

“Yes,” said Orson Scott Card. “Christmas at the Battle School. I have an idea. It won’t be warm and fuzzy, though. Is that ok?”

“Don’t tell Tom that,” I said.

So time passed. We plan these things really early, like years early. Months went by. Other books were delivered and edited and published.

Then one morning, I opened my email and found The Christmas Story waiting. It was like Christmas morning, all unexpected. I started reading it.

My coffee got cold.

I went to get a Kleenex.

It’s not warm and fuzzy—it’s deeply touching and emotional. There I was, crying over a sock. Really. No, I won’t say any more than that, you go read it. It’s not long, it won’t take you more than one wasted cup of coffee.

We called the story A War of Gifts. It’s out now. It’s an Ender story, set in his first year at the Battle School…and it’s so much more than that.

This article is originally from the December 2007 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: The Devil Wears Goggles

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

Fiddlehead, the fifth book in Cherie Priest’s Clockwork Century series, is here! To celebrate the publication of Cherie’s latest steampunk adventure, we’ve reached back in our archives to October 2009, when she shared the origins of Boneshaker, the first book in her rollicking alternative history steampunk series. Enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

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Steampunk: The Devil Wears Goggles

Written by Cherie Priest

Pick a genre book—any genre, any book—and the cover will probably provide a satisfactory shorthand for where it ought to be shelved. Wizards, elves, and knights? You’ve got yourself a fantasy novel. Fangs and a matte black background? Horror. And so forth.

But a couple of years ago when I began working on Boneshaker, I couldn’t name many meaningful signifiers that screamed out “steampunk.” Oh there were goggles, sure—but no one seemed to have a good explanation for what the goggles were for apart from leaving a sweaty crease above your eyebrows. The delightful preponderance of Victorian garb was striking and fun, but the gas masks left me scratching my head. Gears made sense, even on top hats, I supposed. Watch chains were shiny, so, you know. Cool.

However, the odd goggle-wearing, retro-dressing, hat-decorating pocket-watch toter might be mistaken for goth at a glance. In fact, my friend Jess Nevins once repeated that he’d heard steampunk is what happens when goths discover brown. While this assessment oversimplifies the matter, it’d be silly to pretend that there isn’t a great deal of overlap between the two scenes.

So. As an aging quasi-goth with a deep-seated interest in steampunk, I wanted to take an honest stab at the genre—giving it legs, or at least giving its stranger elements a literary excuse to complement the fashion imperative.

Boneshaker began this way, as an idle exercise—a noodling experiment. But like so many projects, I had no idea when I began exactly how far it would take me… or how weird it would get.

I started out with only a few concrete demands: I wanted this story to be American, and not London gas-lamp; I wanted to write about people, not about a world-setting; but I needed for the people to be symptomatic of that world-setting.

Also, I wanted zombies.

The world came first. Nineteenth-century America was strange enough without any interference from yours truly, but I imagined it as if the Civil War had lingered—and the west was not incorporated, or organized. I thought of Texas, and how it might have remained a republic. I wondered how the Confederacy could’ve held on, and how the Union would’ve restructured, and what the war would’ve looked like decades down the line—when most of the men who’d started fighting it were dead, and their sons were fighting over grievances they were too young to remember firsthand.

Piece by piece the Clockwork Century came together, and on that foundation I found people with stories to tell. I found former slaves and air pirates, criminal overlords and Native American princesses. I found a deranged scientist or two. And eventually I found Briar Wilkes—the widow of a madman, mother of a runaway, and daughter of a dead folk hero.

Boneshaker is her story. And like steampunk itself, Boneshaker is about rummaging through the wreckage of the past and finding something worth salvaging, and maybe even worth celebrating. So if you take a chance on my new book, I do hope you enjoy it. If it’s half as much fun to read as it was to write, I’ll consider the whole noodling experiment a grand success.

This article is originally from the October 2009 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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Throwback Thursdays: Working with George R.R. Martin

Welcome to Throwback Thursdays on the Tor/Forge blog! Every other week, we’re delving into our newsletter archives and sharing some of our favorite posts.

George R.R. Martin, in addition to being the author of the Song of Ice and Fire series, is the editor of the Wild Cards novels, and of the children’s book The Ice Dragon. In October of 2007, consulting editor Wanda June Alexander wrote a piece for us about the process of creating The Ice Dragon. Enjoy this blast from the past, and be sure to check back every other Thursday for more!

Poster Placeholder of - 31By Wanda June Alexander, Consulting Editor

George R.R. Martin has become a literary celebrity — the American Tolkien, according to Time magazine — and he just keeps getting better. His long and illustrious writing career includes short stories, novels, and teleplays as well as countless awards from fans and his peers. Recently George was inspired to try writing for the children’s market and created a marvelous tale, The Ice Dragon, released as a fully illustrated children’s book.

Originally published in 1980 in Dragons of Light, The Ice Dragon is a delightful and engaging tale. It is a story about, well you guessed it, a dragon — a very special dragon. Commonly dragons are hot and fueled by flaming arrogance, but George’s dragon is composed entirely of ice, the very essence of winter. Yvonne Gilbert’s incredible artwork vividly brings this gelid dragon to life.

I had the privilege of working with George on this project, and it was a very exciting time for me. George was busy working on A Feast for Crows, the fourth installment of the Song of Ice and Fire series, and though he was eager to see The Ice Dragon reach its new audience, it was a struggle to find the time to give this project the attention it deserved. That’s where I came in. I live close enough to George to bug him when necessary, and far enough away to not do it too often. Most of our editorial work was done over the phone — a roundabout from New York City to Grants, New Mexico, to Santa Fe and back again. Occasionally I would drive to Santa Fe, pages in hand, to beg audience with the Master. George always found a few minutes to focus on The Ice Dragon, guiding it to completion.

Transforming a short story into a children’s book took hard work from the writer, the entire editorial team, and the fabulous artist. George’s unfailing sense of what works kept us all on track. It was my privilege to act as liaison between Tor and George; it was exciting to create the working manuscript that started the process even though I worried about whether my suggested changes were for the best. Thankfully, George thought they were. Along the way, there were moments of doubt, exhilaration, and frustration. But the end result, a beautifully illustrated book suitable for children of all ages, was well worth the effort. Working with George, Kathleen Doherty, Susan Chang, and all the good folks at Tor was definitely the highlight of my year.

This article is originally from the October 2007 Tor/Forge newsletter. Sign up for the Tor/Forge newsletter now, and get similar content in your inbox twice a month!

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