The Number 1300

Back in the early days of my writing career, I got it into my head that I would strive to pen 1,000 completed works of fiction. This likely owes to one of those biography shows on the late, great Rod Serling, one of my lifelong role models and as prolific and supremely talented a scribe as there ever was. In January of 2013, I attained that goal and hit the Number 1000. For the longest while (decades?), I assumed that I'd stop at 1000. But my imagination didn't retire at the millennium mark, and I've kept writing, past 1100 completed works of fiction, 1200, and, at the end of 2017, toward the Number 1300.

In early March of this year, as another notable anniversary date readied to be celebrated, I wrapped my sequel to last year's novelization of the classic made-for-TV Gerry Anderson movie, The Day After Tomorrow: Into Infinity. The Day After Tomorrow: Planetfall all but consumed me during the start of 2018. Pages flew off notepads at a ridiculous clip -- one of those lovely instances where the writer seems to be channeling spirits. I absolutely loved the experience, and wrapped the longhand draft well in advance of my deadline with Anderson Entertainment. Planetfall is scheduled for publication in September, and landed on my list of completed works at #1299. Without delay, I pulled out a fresh notepad of lined paper, uncapped my pen, and began work on #1300, my Space:1999 fan fiction "Ninth".

Dating back to the start, most of my big numbers have been odes to the series that put the pen in my hand at an early age -- 1, 50, 100, 500, 700, 800, 1000, and 1200. 900 was my one and only Lost in Space fan fic, which came to me in a dream back in 1982, and was a joy to pen. The title, "Ninth", refers to John Robert Koenig, the ninth commander of Moonbase Alpha (as unforgettably referenced in the first season episode "War Games"), who finds himself alone capable of saving his people from a malevolent intelligence being beamed to Alpha from a point on the nearby starmap. The idea came from one of six I drafted for a failed revival of the series several years ago. While doing a forensic exam through every notebook (and stray note) last November to corral all of my as-yet-unwritten ideas, I came across those episode treatments and, along with "Plato's Tears", deemed them worthy of translation into short stories. And "Ninth" did not disappoint.

I tore through the story in a similar daze, putting down the words and pages and loving the experience. A full week before our writers' group would celebrate it's fifth anniversary with a big party, readings, food, and guests, I finished "Ninth" and hit the Number 1300. And when the Berlin Writers' Group gathered to mark its fifth year in existence, I was able to celebrate another milestone by reading the opening to "Ninth".

As of today, with the novel sequel edited and turned in and other deadlines calling, I've reached #1303. Sitting in my catalog of story ideas waiting to be written are eighty individual cards, containing one adventure apiece. New ideas this year have been slow in coming, which could mean my prolific imagination is slowing down or that I'm finally, after a lifetime of courting the muse, being granted a reprieve to catch up. Either way, I continue to write, finish, edit, and submit my work. I continue to dream and love the writing life. Will there be a Number 1500? First, I have to reach #1400!

Black Infinity 2

I've often spoken of my childhood spent in an enchanted cottage located between deep woods and vast lake, and of the healthy diet of creature double features and classic SF television I grew up on. Last summer, I sold the first of several short stories and novellas to Black Infinity, published by the fine folks at Dead Letter Press. "The Tree Surgeon" -- which I'd penned during my unforgettable time at Christine Woodside's Writing From Nature retreat and workshop -- is an homage to my late, great grandfather, Wallace Runge. In my youth, my mother regaled me with amazing stories that fed my young imagination, including the fact that Grampy Wally had been a tree surgeon in his earlier years. I doubt he ever encountered a tree anything like the one my main character does; I sent out the story and it was accepted on its maiden voyage into Black Infinity 2's special "Blobs, Globs, Slime and Spores" issue by publisher Tom English. Contributor copies arrived on a recent snowy Friday afternoon, and they were, frankly, stunning, the oversize pages filled with classic reprints, stories by new master writers like the brilliant Kurt Newton, comics, movie reviews, and a foreword by English referencing some of my all-time favorite TV series and movies: Space:1999, Lost in Space, and the ultra-creepiest of creature features, Attack of the Mushroom People -- when that film ran on Saturday afternoons, I refused to go outside afterward, too terrified to consider playing in those green forest wilds.

Reading an issue of Black Infinity is like a trip through time back to my boyhood; to bigger worlds and universes. It was my pleasure to sit down with publisher Tom English to discuss the publication, and the deep love behind its production.

Talk about the 'vibe' if you would -- the wonderful retro tone of BLACK INFINITY and your own taste regarding a time when, even if it was dark, SF was fun.
Well, I grew up in the late sixties and early seventies -- a wonderful time, I think, for TV, comics, and old SF magazines. The Silver Age of comics was coming to an end, but the local thrift stores were stocked with back issues of books originally published in the 50s. Kids were able to pick up old copies of Mystery in Space, Amazing Fantasy and, occasionally, EC’s Weird Science. There were also plenty of dog-eared copies of old SF digests, like Astounding SF, Fantastic, and Imaginative Tales, to name a few. That’s what I was reading. Meanwhile, broadcast TV was awash with the first waves of syndication of some classic (and groundbreaking) SF shows, namely The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits. And on weeknights Chiller Theater (or some variation) was airing movies such as Howard Hawks’ The Thing From Another World and It Came From Outer Space. For the most part, all these movies, shows, comics and books shared common themes: alien worlds aren’t always welcoming, science isn’t always your friend, and space can hold its share of horrors. This is the kind of stuff that hooked me as a kid. After all, who doesn’t enjoy a good haunted house story, for example? Or the creepy SF equivalent, a creepy derelict spaceship? But the SF genre was shifting. Space travel, as depicted in movies and TV, was becoming routine and a little dull; science always had the right answers; and aliens were just misunderstood. Okay, there’s nothing wrong with this overly optimistic take. I’m certainly not a doom-and-gloom guy, but I missed the sense of foreboding, the moody eeriness, and ... the monstrous creatures. I think the genre is returning to much of this. I think movies like the original Alien and John Carpenter’s The Thing started this return. But I wanted to do a magazine that fully embraced this type of SF, and which celebrated all the comics and movies and books and shows that helped shape spooky SF. Hence, the birth of Black Infinity, an idea I’ve had for almost a decade. Issue #1 explores the most obvious theme: Deadly Planets. Issue #2 features “Blobs, Globs, Slime and Spores” (which frequently menace humankind in SF). For each issue I tried to pull together the classic stories featuring the theme or element, added fresh takes by some of today’s best writers, threw in columns on weird science and retro movie reviews, and tied everything together with an introductory overview of each theme. Oh yeah, and lots of movie photos and illustrations. Is Black Infinity for everyone? I seriously doubt it. Does everybody like everything? But my hope is that, for those of us who fondly remember 1950s Sci-fi movies and stories, Black Infinity will be a lazy Saturday afternoon must-read.

Can you share themes for upcoming issues, and also the fantastic classic tales you'll be reprinting?

I’m working on #3 at the moment. The theme is Body Snatchers: alien control/alien possession/alien replacement. John W. Campbell’s “Who Goes There?” is among the classics scheduled, with new stories by (so far) Douglas Smith, Scath Beorh, Kurt Newton and a guy named Gregory Norris.Issue #4 is being planned also. Theme is Strange Dimensions. Future issues will feature Rogue Robots, Derelicts in Space, Cosmic Canines and.... Well, big plans.

I had a great chat with Kurt Newton, and we both pretty much made it a love letter to working with you and BLACK INFINITY. You treat your authors well, Tom English. Why is that important?

I don’t really think I’m doing anything any other good editor wouldn’t do. But several things influence me. First, I love books and I put that love into all my projects. Second, I’m a writer, too. And I abide by The Golden Rule: I treat my writers the way I hope to be treated, and present their stories with as much care as I’d want for my own tales.I feel, for the most part, writers are under-appreciated. What writers do is magical. It’s hard work. It’s lonely work. And I try to do my part to facilitate their efforts.

What do you want today's readers to know about the publication?

Simple mathematics. I put a lot of time and money, sweat and inspiration into every issue. I try to make the magazine fun and cool and entertaining, nostalgic and thought-provoking -- without being offensive or preachy. But I can only do this as long as people buy the magazine. I’m a small, independent press trying to maintain a foothold in the market. So if you want a good read, or if you need to give a gift to someone who loves SF, support Black Infinity by purchasing a copy. Leave a review or just tell a friend. You’ll have my sincerest thanks -- and I can continue to provide an attractive forum for talented writers. 

The Number 50

(The Birthday Babes)

Five years ago, the Big 4-5 consisted of a day spent in my pjs enjoying the quiet of our old apartment.  Bruce went out for the day, and the cats honored my wish for time with the Muse by napping (or so I like to think; it's possible napping was their plan all along).  I plucked at an old idea (1982, according to the time stamp on the note card) -- a Lost in Space fan fiction called "Lost and Found" that soon found its legs.  It was only to be written for fun -- and what fun it served up! Over the course of several weeks, I read my beloved birthday novella to my then-writers' group members.  When all was done, various members told me they were sad it had to end.  That birthday memory -- complete with Chinese takeout later that night when husband returned from his errands -- may be one of my all time favorites.  There's another from a long time ago: a chocolate cake with coconut and cherries.  It was served in my beloved boyhood home on the lake, a house that no longer exists. Every birthday since coming north to Xanadu, I've made a version of that cake, and this year, the Big 5-0, was no different.

I've anticipated this year, my fiftieth on Spaceship Earth, for a while.  Back in my teens, I posited reaching Year: 50 with a kind of foresight that I think is unusual for the young.  I knew I wanted to be living in my own home by then, and living the life of a published and happy writer -- mission accomplished on both counts, whether by destiny or design.  Of course, I pondered the loss of loved ones (despite my wanting some people and things to last forever, many of the best haven't).  But as 50 crept closer, I decided to celebrate it instead of mourning what I've lost over the years.

(My favorite birthday cake)

This year's May writers' group party served a two-fold purpose -- to gather for a day of celebrating the muses, and also to celebrate not one but two birthdays, mine plus my fab friend and fellow group moderator Irene (about to enjoy her 29th-and-holding).  On a gorgeously sunny and balmy Sunday, guests began to arrive -- 21 in all -- and food appeared on the big kitchen table. So much of the latter, that we were forced to pull out our Thanksgiving folding table to accommodate.  Among the offerings were baby meatballs, two sandwich platters covered with baby sandwiches in a wide variety of types, fried fish kabobs with sweet & sour dipping sauce and sriracha (my newest obsession!), homemade potato salad, veggies and dip, and desserts stretching around the room -- the aforementioned birthday cake, hot pink diva cupcakes, lazy blueberry pie, rum cake, and fresh fruit platters.  I made my trusty fruit punch in the big drinks dispenser, and the birthday gifts stacked up. One was a new coffee mug bearing my Muse's handsome face.

(A living room full of writer friends)

The house filled with its second-largest guest list since becoming a destination for friends and writers in early 2013 -- twenty-one crammed into the living room and spilling out into the foyer. The readings were up to their usual brilliance, most centered around the themes of "The Number 50" and "The Number 60", in honor of the birthday babes.  I had written a chapter of my Space:1999 novel, METAMORPHOSIS (one of only two unwritten fan fiction ideas left in my catalog of ideas, and Number 50 on the list), but decided to hold off reading until the following Tuesday night's writers' group meeting because of the party's huge turnout.  Instead, I read the opening page of my sixtieth completed work of fiction, a short story penned in my Junior year of high school, "The Beckoning Sphere" (based on a surreal dream, as I recall).  To my surprise, the story's folder contained only a typewritten copy of the first draft manuscript.  That would have been the time I owned my first typewriter, which I'd spent the entire previous summer earning.  Apparently, I'd forgotten that I had, indeed, at least once in my life composed a first draft of something other than a screenplay on a machine.

(Cheeky!)

The day was energetic and energized, and stretched on well past sunset.  Then, our overnight guests, the fabulous Sisters Dent, and I did two hours of writing following clean up duties.  We spent the next day enjoying more of the same -- writing fresh copy, with breaks to refill coffee and to read aloud stories and novel chapters.  I was fifty, and still going about my days as I pretty much have from the time I turned fifteen and was shown a glimpse into this wondrous and fulfilling literary life I've embraced.

Next up, it's the big 6-0.  So long as I meet the decade to come with the same verve as my fiftieth, putting down fresh pages, seeing my work in print and on the screen, and harming none, I'm looking forward to what those ten years will bring!

TALES FROM THE ROBOT GRAVEYARD

(The Robinson Robot in miniature)

The images were indelibly imprinted upon my brain at an early age. There was Underdog, fighting a hoard of giant robots with raccoon eyes in "March of the Monsters." And both Astro Boy and Gigantor, in glorious black and white. Robot John slogged across a lake of molten lava to save his human companions in Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women, a bizarre Frankenstein of a movie cobbled together from spare parts -- about space sirens dressed in scallop shell bikinis that crunch down on raw alien eels come feeding time, the second most memorable element of the film. The first was Robot John's sacrifice, which left me a blubbering mess sitting cross-legged before our big, ugly box of a TV set connected to rabbit ears.  Ditto to Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot, a frequent visitor via Saturday afternoon Creature Double-Features.  The final scene in which the giant Egyptian-looking servo-mechanism flies off to save the Earth became the equivalent of a tearjerker for untold scores of boys my age. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wanted a best friend like Giant Robo. And I'll admit it -- I still get a little bleary- eyed, even at forty-eight, when he and the devious Guillotine collide with that smoking meteor.

I never trusted or even liked Robby the Robot, who I first encountered on the brilliant "War of the Robots" episode of Lost in Space, when he battled -- and lost to -- the Robinson's beloved cybernetic pal, Robot B9.  In 1995, when my writing was first starting to reach a national (and international) readership, I got to stand beside and shake pincers with the original Robinson Robot, an iconic friend from childhood, at a science fiction convention in Boston.  Five years later, while writing a big retrospective on LIS for Cinescape Magazine, I interviewed the great, late Dick Tufeld, voice of B9.  He was kind enough to go into character with his classic, "Danger, Will Robinson!" shtick, and mention me by name.  I have the entire interview on tape.  In fact, that particular soundbite got played last summer during the documentary segment on my writing career and broadcast on TV's New Hampshire Chronicle.  Talk about time travel!

In my teens, there was 7-Zark-7 from Battle of the Planets, IQ-9 from Star Blazers, Doctor Who's faithful companion K-9, and a host of giant robot heroes in Force Five, which brought different adventures from Japan to the shores of New England Monday through Friday.  First up, there was Danguard Ace; Tuesdays, the fantastic Starvengers. Wednesdays was the throw-away Spaceketeers.  On Thursdays, Grandizer battled alien horrors.  Fridays was Gaiking, my favorite, about a powerful robot who launched from a flying fortress-carrier in the shape of a space dragon and defended Earth from invaders from the Zela Star Empire. I got so into the Force Five mythos that I began to have dreams about the giant robots and their sinister foes.  Those dreams made their way through fountain pen and onto paper, and the resulting fan fic stories remain, to this day, archived among my files of first-draft manuscripts.  There's still one from that time in my life remaining to be written.  And write it, I will.

(The 'cover', left, to one of my Gaiking fan fics; a sketch
of a Cylon from 1981; the longhand draft of my newest
robot novella)

And oh, how I hated the Cylons, those robotic baddies in the original Battlestar Galactica that made it their mission to hunt down humanity from one end of the universe to the next.  So much so, in the summer of 1982, between story projects, I opened a blank notebook and began to pen '1001 Ways to Insult a Cylon'. Looking back, I was bored, I think. But to my credit, I made it to Number Fifty.  In my twenties, I was mad about Optimus Prime and The Transformers.

Robots have been a significant part of my life from the beginning.  And they're about to become even more so in the weeks and months ahead. Last Saturday, two friends of mine who own the small press Great Old Ones Publishing paid a visit to our new home North of the Notches.  They took us out to a fantastic lunch at the local Chinese eatery downtown, and then, over coffee and cupcakes. asked me to pitch them on a novel idea as part of their upcoming front list.  I did, and the idea was contracted for.  My Tales From the Robot Graveyard (due out in Third Quarter 2014) is, in actuality, three novellas that will total novel size.  I intend to dedicate it to Mr. Tufeld, and to all those robots I loved from childhood.  And here's a nifty bit of news regarding the book's cover: it is being drawn by the talented Eric Chu, who did all the robotic and spaceship conceptual art on the re-imagined Battlestar Galactica.  Yes, the man who re-designed the Cylons will create the cover of my book about giant robots.  More details to follow!

Meet the Talented and Luminous Judi Calhoun

One of the many blessings of our new life North of the Notches is the fabulous creative community we've met and been welcomed by.  Early on, Judi Calhoun (who is as gifted an artist as she is a writer) impressed me with her creative passion -- and her brilliance in delivering a great read in both short and long story format.  A member of my Berlin Writers' Group, Judi's latest release is the engaging novel Ancient Fire in which a demon-slayer armed with a blessed weapon is tested not only in battle against the dark forces seeking to devour her family, but in matters of the heart when she meets a fellow warrior. Judi's prose is crisp, and her world building abilities top notch. Fire is a page-turner in the truest sense, and it was my delight to speak with the author about her exciting literary vision.

Your journey is as interesting as that of Shonna Wells, your heroine in Fire.

Even at a young age, adults labeled me a dreamer and made it sound like a bad word. Perhaps I was living in a dream world…retreating into my fantasies while my parents battled through an ugly divorce. I was constantly creating new fantasy realms and mysterious characters arriving on the scene in ballgowns, masks, and top hats with antenna…all to accompany my artwork. I once whimsically illustrated an entire cast of characters before I even wrote one line to my story. 

This combination I call visual writing was perhaps the best brainstorming contrivance I had in my toolbox as a child. At the time, I was not aware just how important this tool would become in my writing and art. When my husband and I moved to California in 1979, I started a photography business while attending classes at Palomar College, as an Art and English major. I also worked on the school newspaper and magazine and held an office in two major honor societies. Yet, it wasn’t until my husband suffered a major stroke that I donned my top hat, mask and scurried down the rabbit hole…back into my wonderland dream world. That’s when I really began to explore writing at a different magical level.

I love Fire -- is this part of a series and, if so, what's next for Shonna and Company?

Yes, I consider Ancient Fire, The Chronicles of Shonna Wells the first book. However, I wrote another smaller book about the younger Shonna, when she first received the power. It sold roughly 300 copies before going out of print. It’s not my best work. I wrote Ancient Fire, Book 2 in less than two months. It was the easiest book to write. I thought I must have done something wrong, so I kept going back over it, only to discover it was exactly how it should be.

This next volume picks up after Jake has graduated and is leaving for Colorado. While Shonna starts her senior year and struggles to exist without Jake, Rick Steel returns to New Bedford with motivations that are even more mysterious and perhaps still connected with the occult. Shonna’s battle is beyond psychological facing an enemy she cannot kill with her sword, learning the truth about her father and the business he was tangled up in that connects him to the house on Pine Street. The same house that Rick had taken her to the night of the fight with her mother.  

What other projects are you presently working on?

I find myself writing more and more short stories between novel projects. I never considered the possibility it would open up for me. I feel as if I’m acquiring a wealth of knowledge, priceless guidance that people like you, Gregory, offer without veiled motivation. Currently, I’m working on five novels and six short stories, as well as designing book covers for the next installment of Chronicles of Shonna Wells and a middle grade chapter book titled Leaving Holland Glen.

You're also quite the accomplished artist -- what's the Judi Calhoun method?

Other than the visual writing I mentioned earlier, I find self-disciplined, self-motivation to be key factors I believe I’ve got going for myself. I’m up at 4:00 or slightly later every morning, grabbing my cup of tea (me and Captain Picard) and I'm off to my work space to start writing or painting. Sure, I’m passionate about what I’m doing and that is what drives me.

I’ve heard people say they cannot create artwork without being inspired. I have to shake my head when I hear that kind of crap, because as a human being you have this incredible imagination to draw from, everyone does, unless you’re my third grade teacher, who stifled all artistic expression -- she claimed art was a waste of good paper. Not true of course. We are creative beings and we can create anything. Art is a learned process, like learning to play an instrument. Sure, there are people born with gifts, and everything comes natural to them, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to develop it and it also doesn’t mean you have to be born with abilities in order to follow creative dreams. That’s like saying that because you are not gifted you can never play the violin.

I don’t really have a set process in writing or art other than what I’ve already mentioned. Most artists see beauty in almost everything, even a dead leaf floating in a puddle, just as most writers see a story in faces they pass by on the street. We draw from our inner resource, our pain, our suffering, and our life experiences. We might identify with our characters without making every protagonist and antagonist carbon copies of ourselves. When I wrote Ian Corbet, the evil, demonic familiar spirit in Ancient Fire, I had to think about soulless creatures and what motivates them to hurt and destroy. How could I make Shonna’s life a living hell? Of course I included my own personal pain somewhat contrived. I’ve had a lot of pain in my life, which helps me to understand the human condition. I want my reader to identify with Shonna’s pain, disappointments and sorrow. No doubt, you’ve heard it said that writers spend far too much time in isolation, and need some social aspect. While that is very true, I find I have this wonderful time with my believable characters. You can try to label me crazy, but I enjoy being with my characters almost as much as being with friends. To me, they are just as real and the more time I spend with them, the more I know about their habits and what makes them tick.

Judi, you and I share a mutual love of '60s classic Science Fiction TV -- particularly, Lost in Space.  How has that love influenced your work?

I have always loved classic fantasy and most all Science Fiction. Television was a new medium when I was a kid. It quickly became the family thing to do, watching shows like The Twilight Zone and later on Lost in Space and the original Star Trek. They not only inspired me on so many levels, but as much as I enjoyed them, they caused me to ponder the possibilities. Lost in Space had some unbelievably complicated plots, sure many offered predictable outcomes, but a few caused me loss of sleep.  I would get frustrated with the plots and think I could have ended this differently. I would grab my journal and write a new ending; one I thought mirrored the beginning, giving the story more strength. I did this all in secret, because I didn’t want to suffer ridicule. According to my teachers I was astutely a lost cause.   

One particular episode of Lost in Space, "The Golden Man", stayed with me for years; I couldn’t get it out of my mind. This may sound completely unrelated, but it really isn’t…one day standing in the flower fields in Carlsbad, California near my former hometown of Oceanside, I was staring transfixed at flowers. Row after row of beautiful flowers and my imagination went back to that episode. I began to develop a plot for my story, which later on, much later, developed into a book, one of those novels currently in the process of truncation wonderfully titled, The Andalorian Bloodstone.