Category: Fiction

Reading at Seattle WorldCon

You can hear me read “Wishbone,” from my new collection Patti 209, at 3 p.m. Saturday (August 16) in Room 428 of the Summit building at the Seattle Convention Center (WorldCon membership required).

I could freak out about the fact that my reading is in competition with readings by two of the biggest names in science fiction (Brandon Sanderson and Mary Robinette Kowal) or I could breath a sigh of relief that I didn’t get relegated to a late-afternoon reading on the final day of the convention or an early-morning reading on the opening weekday. I’ll go for the sigh of relief. It’s better for starting a reading. BTW, I’ll be followed by Matt Youngmark, who writes delightfully zany and beautifully illustrated children’s books.

Copies of Patti 209 will be for sale in the Dealers Room at the LimFic and Fairwood Press tables.

If you’re in the publishing field, you know all too well how hard it is these days for authors to get any sort of traction for their new publications. I won’t add to the laments; I’ll just refer you to this excellent and dispassionate explanation by Cherie Priest, author of the brilliant new novel It Was Her House First.

How (and Why) to Review a Book

Want to delight an author whose work you enjoy? Post a three-sentence review of their book (or story) on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads.

I had coffee this week with a fellow author and we noted that while we’re both selling books, we’re not getting the online reviews that are essential for building reputation and getting the next book (or story) published. We don’t mean book reviews from newspapers (most papers don’t even have reviewers any more). We mean reviews from the readers who’ve purchased the book!

Anyone with an Amazon account can leave a book review, even if they bought their copy of the book at a local bookstore or borrowed it from the library. Even if they just read one chapter, and liked that.

And the formula for a short review is pretty simple:

• Is this the sort of book you usually read?
• What did you like (or not like) about your experience with the book?
• Who do you think might want to read it?
• If you enjoyed it, what scene, character, or story was your favorite?

Karen Eisenbrey, author of A Quest for Hidden Things, Ego & Endurance, the Daughter of Magic trilogy, and the St. Rage duology, loves to review books by other authors.

“Writing a review is balm for a book hangover, when the book was so good, you didn’t want it to end,” she says. “Reviewing allows you to spend more time with a story and characters you enjoyed, putting into words what you liked and why. At the same time, a review is a cost-free way to promote a book and author you like, letting more readers know whether the book is right for them.”

Need inspiration? Check out these short reviews of three new books:

Amazon.com review of Evan J. Peterson’s Better Living Through Alchemy:

“Better Living Through Alchemy reads like William S. Burroughs meets American Gods in a Micky Spillane tale. The sense of smell is paramount in this book, kinda like in Patrick Susskind’s Perfume, but taken in an entirely different occult direction. The book is queer AF, incorporates cut-up poetry, and is a romp of a read. And though it stands alone, the ending sets us up for possible sequels.”

BarnesandNoble.com review of Alternative Liberties:

“This handful of writers had the visceral courage to write this book. In the midst of madness, this book presents a soul-stirring kick of reality into what we have become and where we are headed. Wonderful, begs deep introspection, the stories linger in your conscience, if you have one….”

Amazon.com review Irene Radford’s The Barefoot Sheriff:

“If you loved the smart-ass dialog in the film Tombstone, if your heart was stolen by Deadwood, you will be blown away by The Barefoot Sheriff. Phyllis Irene Radford puts a clever twist on all of the Wild West stereotypes, starting with her sheriff—a feisty, seductive, and magical woman—and continuing on to the evil banker, the fearsome widow, the madam with the heart of gold, and the mysterious clan living on the outskirts of town. Friends or foes? Radford will keep you guessing right to the last sentence.”

“Unwanted Visitors” (a Seattle story)

In a week when the federal government ordered troops into Los Angeles and Seattle’s police chief said that he expects to be arrested for resisting federal bullies, I invite you to read an excerpt from “Unwanted Visitors.” Originally published by B Cubed Press, it’s one of the stories in my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future.

“Routine check of the block.” The agent’s speech was devoid of inflection. He probably said that same phrase 50 times a day. Or, in the case of Federal Security, a night. They usually came at night.

His partner was already pawing through magazines on my coffee table, peering at books in my bookcases, and opening drawers in the table where I sort the mail. Marie had come out from the kitchen. Now she perched on the arm of a club chair, her open mouth proclaiming her disbelief.

I stood by the sofa, my eyes on anything but the agents. I always stood when Federal Security came.

The taller agent, the one who’d spoken, brushed past. I wrinkled my nose. His cloying body spray was an assault in and of itself. He jogged heavily upstairs to the bedrooms, squeezing his bulk through the narrow staircase. Meanwhile, in the dining room, his colleague stuck his hand in a vase.

I moved closer to Marie. “Security theater.” I kept my voice low. “Ever since the new administration declared Seattle a terrorist haven—” I rolled my eyes to indicate the absurdity of it, “the feds have been sending these rent-a-cops around to keep us on our toes, keep us frightened. They’ll check the computers, maybe ask to see my phone.”

“But that’s illegal!” Marie said, spluttering. “They need warrants! You should just tell them to leave.” 

I wished she’d keep her voice down. I kept my tone even. “Well, the feds have declared a state of emergency and they claim that means they don’t need warrants. Of course, people are filing lawsuits. But in the meantime, putting up with these visits is easier than being arrested.” I didn’t add that my next-door neighbor who’d resisted an inspection had disappeared the following day. His bungalow now sat empty, the front lawn overgrown. The couple across the street had adopted his dogs. Had he left town? Or was he in a detention camp? 

“The Bodies We Carry” (excerpt)

Here’s an excerpt from the short story “The Bodies We Carry” from my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available now. I’d considered reading “The Bodies We Carry” for the Strong Women, Strange Worlds Zoom event, or at the book launch at the Couth Buzzard June 6, but the story hits too close to home at the moment.

“Hey, Kath, check this out,” Dean had said when he saw the first news story about the camps.

I’d listened as I cleared our breakfast dishes, shaking my head in incredulity as he explained. Some group calling themselves Campers for Care had obtained the home addresses of the CEOs and board members of major insurance companies, drug companies, and hospitals.

Dean grinned. “They’re taking dead bodies to their offices. To the lobbies of their beachfront condos. They put three dead bodies on the dock of this guy’s vacation place. This is great.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Dean. I seriously doubt the cities are letting them do this.”

Dean steadied his laptop on bony knees. “No, it says here that San Francisco and Denver are giving the Campers permission to keep the bodies on site, in body bags, for up to 36 hours. And there’s been what they call a ‘dead camp’ going on for nearly two weeks in front of some pharma CEO’s mansion in Chicago.”

“You don’t really—” But I stopped. I hadn’t seen that glint in my husband’s eyes for months. 

“Kath, seriously, this is perfect for me,” he said. “I’ll be dead in a month or two, and they say they’re going to start up some camps in Seattle. Let’s just keep the possibility in mind. Please?”

Imagine this: “Bad Memories, 2032”

In 2018, I made the rash claim that I could write a story that would make people feel sorry for the 45th president. This led to the short story “Bad Memories, 2032.” It appeared in After the Orange, edited by Manny Frishberg for B Cubed Press, and now appears in my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Mr. President, sir, your doctor is here.”

“Doctor? Another check-up? Sure, sure. Busy scheduling. Keeping busy. Keeping fit.”

“How are you sleeping, Mr. President?”

“Bad night last night, Doc. Couldn’t sleep at all. Phone wasn’t working. Couldn’t log on to that social media thing. I blame that dinner. Big state banquet. The biggest. Some terrible prime minister. Some awful guy from Teriyakistan. I let Ivanka handle him. Ivanka did great.”

“Just a few questions. Do you know who the president is?” 

“Do I know who’s the president? Hilarious. You’re some joker, Doc!”

“Do you know what year it is?”

“Do I know what year it is? Hah! Very funny! It’s, ah, 2028! And we’ve got an election to win. Bannon’s busy, you can bet on that. Man knows his job.”

A big, beautiful bill and the “Wishbone”

The latest legislation have you in shock? Things could be worse, as it they are in this excerpt from the short story “Wishbone.”

Originally published by Third Flatiron Press, “Wishbone” appears in my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available now:

“But don’t you have grandparents, Representative Podestra?” the talk show host leaned forward in an eager posture of faux concern. “How will you explain your proposed Age Equity Act to them?”

My grandson, Tory Podestra, decked out in a blue suit, crisp white shirt, and camera-friendly burgundy tie, didn’t even blink. He’d had media training.

“As a leader of the Third Parties Coalition, I’m committed to ensuring that everyone in the United States gets a fair share of our remaining resources,” he said. “There’s no question that the Olds have consumed far more than their share. The Age Equity Act actually benefits them, by ensuring that those of them who reach their 72nd year will enjoy discounted access to adequate housing, healthcare and other resources all the way through their 79th year. I think the AEA is extremely generous, when you consider how all the short-sighted Baby Boomers voted for the Trump administration in 2016 and 2024. They’re the ones responsible for everything that’s gone wrong. This great nation of ours can still recover—the Coalition is here to see to that—but not if young people like us have to pay endlessly to keep a bunch of old right wingers with dementia on life support. Frankly, I think the Olds should be grateful that they can at least contribute something to society by getting out of the way.”

I’d watched the clip of that interview over and over, first stunned, then regretting that I’d helped send that little prick to law school. Tory had been a pushy, grabby, unpleasant child and now he’d grown up to be a political nutcase. A few weeks later, at the dentist’s office, I’d actually denied that I was related to him. 

“Podestra is a very common name,” I told the receptionist.

“A Sign of the Times” (excerpt)

Here’s an excerpt from the short story “A Sign of the Times” from my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available in ebook or print:

“…under the new Washington State statue, corporations are regarded by the law as individuals, and advocating any action to harm them is a hate crime. Joe, you’re going to be the test case.”

“Yeah. Got it. I mean, I’ll plead guilty. I’m ready to take my punishment.”

“No.” Kate snapped.. “Joe, if you’re convicted of advocating violence against the corporation, violence that clearly took place—”

“Prison?”

Kate looked right at me, for the first time, as if she thought I might be joking. One eyebrow went up. “Prison?” She gave a short, ugly laugh. “Under the new statute, the judge has no sentencing discretion. And law says the penalty for publicly proposing violence against a corporation is death.”

“A Sign of the Times” was written a few years back and published in Quaranzine. It seemed pure fantasy at the time I wrote it but with the former director of the FBI being “investigated by the Secret Service” over his use of a common slang phrase in a social media post, it’s now grimly appropriate.

Better off “Unnoticed”

For your weekend reading pleasure: Here’s an excerpt from the short story “Unnoticed” from my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available in ebook or print:

“Your mother and I were ignorant,” he said. Wow. For once, Dad was actually admitting fault. He explained that, like most prospective parents, they’d met with a counselor and had their embryo’s genetic material improved using robust DNA selected from the databanks. “We thought we were making the best choice by giving you popular, well-tested genes. We wanted you to be healthy and happy. We just wanted you to fit in.”

I put my elbows on the table, and buried my face in my hands. “I can’t stand it. You made me nobody.”

“Cait, we were immigrants!” My mom leaned forward, elbows on the table, her dinner forgotten. “We’d been on a waiting list to get out of Mardour for years. We knew that if we were accepted for immigration to Savania we’d have only one child license. That meant only one child. So we wanted you to be perfect.”

“But not to stand out,” Dad cut in. He rationalized, “We made you pretty, and healthy, and smart.”

“But not so pretty, or healthy, or smart that the Savanians would be envious.” Mom’s voice rose, trembling. “We didn’t want…trouble.”

Meet “Patti 209”

Here’s an excerpt from the short story “Patti 209” from my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available now:

I went ahead and made our cocoa, flavoring the drinks from a tiny bottle of vanilla I kept in the pocket of my robe. I loaded the cups onto a tray, covered the tray with plastic wrap to keep it dry, and headed cautiously out to the shed. We’d designed the back door to open level to the deck and pathway—no treacherous steps to contend with. That was fortunate, because in these days of short-staffing, the deck was untended and covered with slippery moss.

Oh, Rachel and I hadn’t been completely stupid. We’d understood the house. We’d understood old people. We just hadn’t quite grasped that the frail old people we were so tenderly designing it for would be us. Or that the country we lived in would wish we were dead.

When I entered the dark cottage the fragrance of potting soil and drying herbs rose up like fumes from an aged Scotch. No cleansers, no mopping solution, no stench of overcooked food and under-washed bodies. Couldn’t blame Sharelle for making this place her refuge.

Predictions You Don’t Want to Come True

A story I wrote under the pen name Alma Emil appears in the new short story anthology Southern Truths.

I wrote “Delia’s Legacy” in January 2024, when we thought the 2024 presidential election would be Biden v. Trump. I suspected the Democrats would lose that contest. So my near-future story is about an elderly couple, possibly the only liberals in their small Southern town, and how they respond to that defeat.

After Kamala Harris got the nomination in July, we considered taking “Delia’s Legacy” out of the anthology. It was possibly through inertia that we left it in. On Tuesday night, to my surprise and dismay, reality caught up to fiction.

Publisher Bob Brown of B Cubed Press has given me permission to reprint the story online. If you’re curious, you can click to read “Delia’s Legacy”.