Category Archives: Writing

Things I’ve written.

One more hit in Google

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Oh hey look, Edge Publishing has added details about Tesseracts 14 to their website. So that’s one more place my name will appear when I go ego-surfing.

Looks like it’s ready for pre-ordering, too:

Brandonites: Pennywise Books
Canucks: Amazon.ca
Americans, and the rest of the world too: Amazon.com

(Hint hint. Also, aside to Keith, if you’re reading this — if you’ve got a pre-order email address or something, I’d be abundantly happy to add it to the head of this list.)

I’m pretty excited, all over again! Also: I’ll be reading from my story “Heat Death, or, Answering the Ouroborous Question” at Words Alive this year. If things work out, I’ll also be able to sign books there, just like a Real Proper Author.

Woo-hoo!

The game's afoot

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I’m not going to say too much about it yet — I’m still in the opening moments — but it seems that some pretty serious liberties have been taken with the copyright on a poem I had published way back in 1997. I found out about it by accident, from a relative in China, and initially assumed that it was part of the intellectual property piracy that China is, fairly or unfairly, known for.

Nope. Turns out the copyright infringement happened in my own province. In the educational system, no less.

So now I’m looking deeper, and trying to figure out what my next set of steps should be.

#

As for tonight, I’m writing, and then I’ll be running, and probably writing a bit more later. I need to find out about late 17th century embalming practices — did they use camphor, for instance? — and funeral rites. Any suggestions?

Everything that Never Happened

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…is a go. I finished the high-level outline of the novel last night. I printed the outline this morning — 18 pages — and at lunch hour today I’m going to start into writing the actual first draft. Even after two months of outlining, I’m still really excited about this project, which is a good sign.

Here are the two choices for the epigraph:

Inne ye Ocean yre is an Iland,
On ye Iland yre is a Stone,
Inne ye Stone, a Seed,
Inne ye Seed, the Death of us Alle.
– From the Rutherford Codex, largely considered to be a fake

or

For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
– Matthew 16:26

Any preferences out there in Reader Land?

Most novel updates will probably happen on the ETNH site: http://patrickjohanneson.com/everything/ .

Touring the Nonsuch

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Nonsuch from starboard stern

My current WiP, Everything that Never Happened, is set mainly aboard a small 17th-century sailing vessel, a square-rigged ketch named the Mandalay. It’s not a coincidence that it’s a square-rigged ketch, just like the historical Nonsuch; ever since the first time I visited the Nonsuch gallery in the Manitoba Museum, I’ve been fascinated by the ship. I’m not a nautical type; I’ve spent my entire life on the prairies, and have seen ocean a total of three times. But something about the ship has always stuck in my mind, and I find myself constantly returning to it.

Maybe it’s just the name. I’m a sucker for a good name.

Tiller

Anyways, sometime in February it occurred to me that, to really understand the Mandalay and her crew, I might be wise to learn more about the Nonsuch. I sent an email to someone at the Manitoba Museum, asking for any information they could give me, and also asking about tours. I received some information in the mail, a recommendation that I check out a book by Laird Rankin, who’s something of an expert on the Nonsuch, and an offer of a tour. To trim a long story to a short one, I went on a tour of the ship on Monday. Since the museum was closed, it was a quite private tour.

I spent three hours on and around the ship, asking questions of Robert, the museum’s resident Nonsuch expert. I learned a lot, and I took a lot of pictures. Some aspects of my story are greatly clarified for me now. Some of the things Robert told me will find their way quite directly into the novel.

And now I’ll get back to writing it…

All my Nonsuch photos

Tesseracts 14

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So yeah. Tesseracts is an annual Canadian anthology of SF and fantasy.

This year, my short story “Heat Death, or, Answering the Ourobouros Question” will be in it.

To say I’m excited is to somewhat understate the case.

Edit—comments from the editors: “[One editor] wrote down ‘funny, lively, likeable.’ [The other] was even more enthusiastic!”

Tonight's fiction

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So in the midst of setting up a judo tournament, I took time to go to a writers’ group meeting.

At the last meeting, two weeks ago, we gave each other story prompts. Mine was: “A romance between a worm and a giraffe”. I was all, Thanks.

So here’s what I ended up with:

Sorry? I didn’t hear you.
….

Well, I heard that you said something, but not what you said.

….

Your voice is a little soft, that’s all I’m saying.

….

Fine.

Can you hear me now?

Yes, much better. Where are you?

You can’t feel me?

No. Well, not right now. You know.

I’m in your ear, just inside the outer ear. Listen, you said yesterday that we need to talk. What’s up, babe?

Well…

Spill it. Spit it out.

All right. Listen, you know, we’ve been, well, we’ve been…together for a long time now, and I’m just, well, I’m just wondering where you see this going. You know?

Eight days is a “long time”?

Don’t dodge the question. My mother–

Yeah, I thought she might’ve–

Don’t let’s start. Can we start over?

Sure. We need to talk?

Yes. Where are we going, hon?

Well, I’m enjoying myself, I thought you were enjoying yourself too…

I am, I am. Oh believe me, I am.

Why do you need to put labels on things, then? Are we lovers? Are we goin’ to the chapel, gonna get married? Why can’t two grown creatures just, you know, enjoy themselves?

Well…

Babe, if you need to ask the question, do you want the answer? Think on that one.

That doesn’t even make any sense.

Exactly. Noodle on that one for a while.

Whatever, listen, I just told my mother I’d ask. Because she’s got this need to know. You know?

Are you happy?

I… Yes. Yes I am, love.

Then the hell with your mother’s nosing. You and me, babe, we’re all we need.

You’re right. You know what? Screw her. Screw her meddling ways!

That’s the spirit, babe. Anything else?

Well…

Thought that might not be all. What now? Your dad wants to know if I follow football?

No. This one’s from me. I kind of, well… I want to know… With worms, it’s so hard to tell sometimes…

What? Tell what? Know what?

Well, are you… Are you male or female?

Hmmm. Tough question, I kind of got both goin’ on, you know? Worms, like you say. Hard to define. Hard to pin down.

I know. But when you think about yourself, you know, do you think of yourself as male, or female?

What’s it matter? This is your dad asking, isn’t it?

No, no. I just… I just want to know if I’m… well. I want to know if I’m gay or straight.

Oh baby. You and your labels.

For next meeting, in another fortnight, I’m supposed to have a completed outline of my WiP, the novel Once I was you.

Next time: » Shiai!

Writing group meeting

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So tonight I went to the second Group Voice meeting. Group Voice is a local writers’ group, newly-formed. Last meeting, two weeks ago, we pretty much just introduced ourselves.

This time we all brought something to read to the group — I brought the first couple sections of my current WiP, Once I was you — and we went around the room, each reading, and receiving comments. It was quite a diverse group — we had a story from the POV of a fly, three short poems, a slice of fictionalized autobiography, some high fantasy, my SF bit, a humourous piece about what is surely the best beard evar, and a bit of zombie lit (though he chose to call the villains “werewolves”, mainly because the first-person protagonist felt that “zombies are overdone lately”).

I was impressed. There are some very good writers in this town.

At the end of the meeting, we all took a piece of paper and wrote down a story prompt. I wrote Time-travelling Nazi soldiers see the results of WWII. Then we all put our prompts into a bucket, and drew out random ones. For the next meeting, in two weeks’ time, I have to write a story based on the following prompt:

Romance between a worm and a giraffe.

Can’t wait.

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On a slightly more serious note: This has really gotten me interested in my project again. Once I was you will likely be a novel-length project; I have a little shy of 14,000 words written so far. I’m trying to come up with a thumbnail of the story that doesn’t sound insane. So far I have: A woman’s ghost from the present day gets involved in a war, in 750,000,000 AD, against the entities that made our Universe, and are now done with it.

That’s not the whole story, of course. Most of the terms in there need a footnote that simply says “Sort of”. She’s sort of a ghost. It’s kind of a war. The conflict is more or less against the Makers. It’s more or less set in 750,000,000 AD. And so forth.

Interested? I hope so, because once this post is done, I’ll be writing more in the story. If you want to see a snippet, let me know. You know how to reach me.

(If you don’t — if you’re new here — feel free to leave a comment. That’s one way to reach me.)

Next time: Some photos — hopefully not of knee-deep snow.