Journal Entry #57

                                               January 15, 2010

     Within a few hours after the earthquake leveled Port-au-Prince, Pat Robertson was claiming that it was God’s punishment against the Haitians for kicking Napoleon and the French slave holders out of Haiti two centuries ago. I don’t suppose that even deserves comment. And Limbaugh is urging people not to contribute to the rescue effort, apparently because the money will not get where it’s supposed to. That probably doesn’t need a response either.

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     I mentioned earlier that my wife had given me a copy of Robert Hazen’s Genesis for Christmas. I’m about halfway through, and am coming to the conclusion that I’ve had it all wrong in the Alex Benedict novels, where the  vast majority of biozone worlds are sterile. If Hazen has it right, and if he doesn’t throw a roundhouse curve between now and the last chapter, it looks as if the development of life is almost inevitable wherever we have liquid water, and the environment is reasonably stable. There appears to be at least a decent chance that we’ve had --or may have-- life on Mars, beneath the seas on Europa, and in some other places in the solar system.

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     John Adams will be introducing a new SF magazine, Lightspeed, in June. I’ve promised a story, “the Cassandra Project,” for the premier issue and am now working on it. Turns out that Apollo 11 wasn’t the first landing on the moon. (Love those conspiracies.)

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     My convention and event schedule so far: I’ll be at Con DFW in Dallas the weekend of February 12; the Crossroads Festival on the campus of Mercer University in Macon, GA, February 27; I-Con in Stony Brook, NY, the weekend of March 26; and Readercon in Boston from July 8-11. If you get to any of them, please come by and say hello.

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     I’ve been a subscriber to The Atlantic since about 1972. It’s probably my favorite magazine, despite the fact they’ve never been aware that science fiction exists. Until the current issue. Christopher Hitchens has written a review of The Complete Stories of J. G. Ballard, in which he confesses that he had always “disliked and distrusted so-called science fiction.” I doubt he’s actually changed his mind on that score. He seems to think SF is primarily dueling starships and hungry aliens. But he seems to have found much to admire in Ballard’s work.

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     I’ve mentioned elsewhere Dan Heisman’s Looking for Trouble as a helpful guide for anyone who wants to improve his chess game. Dan’s written a new book: The Improving Chess Thinker. I haven’t seen it, but judging by what I’ve seen of the earlier effort, it should be a valuable addition to the chess player’s library. The author has a talent for getting to the point and delivering clear explanations.

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     This evening we’re headed for the Island Theater to watch our local thespians perform “Witness for the Prosecution.”     

                                          Journal Entry #58

                                            January 31, 2010

     Joe Haldeman reports that he’s doing well after an extended illness and a substantial amount of hospital time. His newest, Starbound, has just been released by Ace. A copy is on the table beside me as I write this. I’m looking forward to it. Can’t recall ever being disappointed by a Haldeman novel.

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     I had not seen Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution before watching the St. Simons Island Players’  performance two weeks ago, so I didn’t know where it was going and nearly fell out of my chair at the conclusion. Never saw it coming.

     I have some regret that I didn’t take time somewhere during the past quarter-century to audition for any of the shows. I’d have enjoyed getting on stage to play, say,  Simon Capra in Desire Under the Elms, or Julius Caesar in Bernard Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra. (Not sure I could have managed the Shakespearean version.) I do actually have some experience with  dramatic roles. When I was directing high school shows I played a guard in The King and I, carried a spear in South Pacific, and portrayed the corpse in Arsenic and Old Lace. Now, looking back, I’m sorry I didn’t take the plunge. I mean, with that kind of resume, how could they not have taken me seriously?

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     Avatar is an interesting film. Most critics seem to have concluded the special effects carry the movie, but the story is pedestrian. In fact, the story line carried me along, even though it got lost occasionally in the technology. I thought the problem was that some stuff simply got dragged out, especially the climactic battle. Killing off the Colonel took too long. Still, I liked the thing.

     We also saw Extraordinary Measures. Solid cast, excellent film. Be prepared for an emotional ride. 

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     I’ve been reading, and enjoying, Civilization, by Roger Osborne. Also have finally gotten around to Carl Sagan‘s The Varieties of Scientific Experience, a perspective on the meeting ground between science and theology. Both are well worth my time.

                                                    Journal #59

                                                 February 16, 2010

     We live in South Georgia, but over the past two weeks we are having flashbacks to North Dakota. Fortunately, though it’s been cold, we haven’t had the heavy snow and power failures that have afflicted much of the country. But last weekend, when I was supposed to be at ConDFW, all local flights were canceled, from Brunswick and from Atlanta. I thought briefly about trying to drive, but a glance at the Weather Channel suggested that wouldn’t be a good idea.

     Dan Robb, who was coordinating things at the con, arranged a telephone Q&A session Saturday, moderated by Lee Martindale. It worked out well. An energetic audience showed up and asked what I was currently working on, and what did my work schedule look like, how did I become interested in archeology, did I outline my novels, and so on. (I do outline, but the end result never looks much like the initial plan.)

     The question about my work schedule should have raised a point I failed to make, but which is probably important for anyone planning a writing career. The first draft is the brute work. My goal, when doing that, is to produce a minimum of six pages daily. Every day. No days off, except to go to cons. (If I routinely take off weekends, I inevitably get out of sync.) The six pages will be barely readable, but I can fix that later. What I need is a complete first draft.

     I learned early NOT to set aside a given number of hours each day. If I do that and quit, say, at 5:00 p.m., I spend much of my time looking out the window at the blue jays. Much better is to produce the work, the pages, and then reward myself by quitting early.

     And I don’t have a passion for archeology, per se. I am drawn by things that get lost. Things that matter. Works of art. Buildings. Acts of heroism or compassion.

     Anyhow, I appreciated Dan’s efforts, and the work his staff did setting up the Q&A. And Lee performed with aplomb as the emcee. I’ve promised to attend ConDFW next year. Barring more heavy winter storms.

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     I also had an opportunity to speak with students at the College of Coastal Georgia last week. We decided that the primary benefits to be had from a bachelor’s degree center around communications (reading, writing, listening, and presentation skills) and forming the habit of thinking for ourselves.

     We tend to talk about a B.A. in terms of how much extra money it means over the course of a lifetime. In all probability, it will. But there’s much more to it than that: It allows a wider selection of  career choices, making it far more likely that we‘ll enjoy what we do for a living. Aside from which person we pick as a spouse, I don’t know of any single quality that contributes more effectively to a satisfactory life. The B.A., ultimately, is for us, not for the employer.

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     I’ve joined a book club which meets on St Simons Island. This month’s selection: Islam, by Bernard Lewis and Buntzie Ellis Churchill. While reading it, I think I figured out the core reason why the Middle East has so many problems: In any society, women, mothers, tend to be more concerned with the education of the kids than their fathers. But when women are denied access to an education, they are limited in what they can do for the kids. Moreover, by treating women as they seem to, stay in the house and do what you’re told, they lose the contributions of half the population. And, if my experience counts for anything, the smart half. 

                                         JOURNAL ENTRY #60

                                                March 1, 2010

     Maureen and I spent the weekend at the Crossroads Writers’ Conference in Macon, GA, sponsored by Mercer University and Macon State College. The lesson that inevitably comes out of events like this seems to be the need for any aspiring writer to learn to trust himself. To believe in himself. Until he, or she, can do that, success is difficult to attain. And of course it’s hard to create a pile of self-confidence until you get something past the editor’s desk.

     One point about fiction is absolutely critical. Usually, when I ask a group at a workshop or other event what a writer is trying to do, the answer inevitably is that he tells a story. The reality is considerably different: The writer is trying to create an experience. He wants the reader to forget that he’s sitting in a chair with a book in his hand. Rather we want the reader to be transferred to that rocky shore where the tide’s coming in and the young woman we (the viewpoint character and the reader) both love, is walking out. And anything we do to remind him that he’s safely at home in that chair damages the effort. Or destroys it altogether.

     How do we do that? Use wooden language. Use words that the reader has to look up in the dictionary. Get the research wrong. There are a thousand ways. One of the more common is breaking in to explain things to the reader. Tell him, for example, that the protagonist’s heart is broken. Or that he’s reluctant to act because he’s afraid he’ll fail. Or that he’s afraid of heights.

     Imagine going to a theater to watch, say, The Green Pastures. God is on the bridge of the ark and Gabriel has just arrived. Abruptly the action stops, everyone frozen in place, and the director comes out and begins explaining to the audience that God is having second thoughts. That He wonders whether He might have acted hastily. That’s what a writer does when he breaks into the narrative to describe someone’s mood, or to tell us about the family problems that led up to the current confrontation. Or whatever. The tactic for the writer is to think in theatrical terms. Put the action on stage and stay out of the way. If we do our job properly, the reader will be able to figure out for himself what’s going on.

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     Last week we went to see Chicago City Limits perform Wikiphobia. It was improv, and I’ll confess I’d always thought improv was a routine managed by one or two standup comedians. This was handled by a group of four actors, who, prompted by the audience, seemed able to make up routines and songs on the run. At the end of the performance, I felt much the same way I had when, as a seven-year-old, my father took me to see Blackstone the Magician, and I came out of the theater convinced that magic actually happened.

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     Stephen Antczak is preparing a volume of essays on 20th century SF. Working title: Heart and Soul of Science Fiction in the Twentieth Century. I’ve agreed to do comments on three books: The Best of Damon Knight, The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Vol I, and The Martian Chronicles. I’ve started rereading The Hall of Fame, which is edited by Robert Silverberg, and of course I’m having a good time. So far I’ve read the first four stories, “A Martian Odyssey,” “Twilight,” “Helen O’Loy,” and “The Roads Must Roll.” It reminds me why I fell in love with this stuff in the first place, and never escaped.

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     Speaking of good stuff, I recently finished a collection by Sheila Finch, The Guild of Xenolinguists, which details the problems we might have communicating if we actually do run into aliens one day. If you haven’t picked up on Sheila’s work, you might try it. I don’t think you can go wrong.

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     Off to Tuscaloosa this weekend for A Space Oddity at the University of Alabama. If you’re in the area, come by and say hello.

                                           Journal Entry #61

                                             March 16, 2010

     I enjoyed myself Saturday March 6 at A Space Oddity, which was conducted at the University of Alabama on its Tuscaloosa campus. It was a one-day event, aimed at science fiction fans, people interested in writing fiction, and anyone else who enjoys a good book.

     It provided an opportunity to spend time, both on- and off-stage with Lou Anders. Lou is the editorial director of  Pyr Books. He has produced some solid anthologies, including Outside the Box, Fast Forward I and II, Sideways in Crime, and Future Shocks. (Truth in lending: I have stories in two of them.) Lou has also done screen plays, a substantial amount of nonfiction, including The Making of Star Trek: First Contact, and written a few short stories.

     I’ve spent a lifetime telling people that my all-time favorite movie is Casablanca. Lou informed me that the film is frequently used in screenwriting classes to demonstrate various aspects of the creation process. One point I’d never really thought about: Audiences spend the film rooting for Rick, the Bogart character, even though he’s trying to wreck the marriage of a World War II hero. I’d known that, of course. But, if this makes any sense, it hadn’t impinged on my giving Bogie all my sympathy.

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     Tuscaloosa is about a ten-hour drive from my home. I was alone this time, so I took an audio book with me: David McCollough’s John Adams. It’s big, and I only got halfway through it. But it left me wondering how different the United States might have been had it not been for Abigail.

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     We went to see the opening performance of Come Blow Your Horn Friday night. It’s Neil Simon’s first play, and by no means his best. But the Island Players did a good job with it, even though opening performances tend to be the night on which a cast gets its act together.

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     Our local book club will meet Friday morning at Sweet Momma’s, on the island. We are reading Louis Menand’s The Metaphysical Club, which is a history of American thought, perception, and philosophy during the years between the Civil War and into the early twentieth century. The book provides exquisite portraits of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce, among a legion of others. We see Jane Addams arguing that war is dumb, Eugene Debs challenging the decision to intervene against Germany, and college presidents arbitrarily discharging teachers with whose politics they disagree. The development of statistics leads to doubts whether free will is an illusion.

     I’ve come away from it with the sense that I never had a clue what was going on in the U.S. during the 19th century, other than expansion and the Civil War.

     The Metaphysical Club won the Pulitzer in 2002.

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     I’ll be at the Atlanta Writers’ Club this Saturday,  March 20, for a 3:00 p.m. conversation on writing science fiction. The Writers’ Club meets at Georgia Perimeter College, Dunwoody, GA. I’ll be doing a signing afterward. There’s no charge. If you’re able to get there, please stop by and say hello.

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     I’m happy to report that I’ve finally started writing again. I’ve mentioned that my next novel, to be released in November, is an Alex Benedict mystery, Echo. That one, of course, is finished and in the pipeline. After several false starts, I’ve begun another Benedict adventure, in which he learns about a guy who seemed to know in advance when strange lights would appear in the sky. Until he disappeared. Title will be Phoenix.

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     Latest word on Joe Haldeman is that he’s doing well. That is very good news.  

                                               JOURNAL ENTRY

                                                    April 2, 2010                                                    

     The Atlanta Writers’ Club invited me to participate in their March 20 program. We talked about the special pleasures to be derived from science fiction. I‘ve had a passion for the genre since I was four years old. Aside from being able to provide more exhilaration (in my case, at least) than mainstream work, it provides an opportunity for discovery that is otherwise generally missing. How else can you hope to ride out and take a close look at Saturn from one of its moons? Or get a sense of the possibilities that distant shores hold for us? 

     Most people have no concept about the size or grandeur of the place in which we live. Hardly anybody is aware, e.g., that traveling to Alpha Centauri at the speed we used to get to the Moon back in the 60’s would require 50,000 years, give or take. That if we posted someone at the center of the galaxy and had him turn on a very big spotlight while we watched with a very large telescope, we wouldn’t see the light come on for 28,000 years. Even more striking, maybe, since those kinds of numbers don’t really register, is the fact that the sun that is so benignly shining overhead as I write this could have blown up five minutes ago and I wouldn’t be aware of it yet.

     There are other aspects of the universe that are odd, yet necessary. For example, gravity. Why can’t we walk off a rooftop and keep going? What is it that causes us to fall? Ask that question of a group and they’ll usually respond that it‘s gravity. But ask what gravity is, and we’re all hard pressed to answer. Physicists tell us it‘s because space is made out of rubber. Put a massive body into it, like a planet, and space curves downward. Walk off that roof and we slide down the curve.

     Or if you’d like to stay young longer, drive fast. We age at a different rate in a moving car than we do standing around. And I know it’s not a measurable amount, but nonetheless, ramp up the speed a bit and it becomes evident. Or, if we’d like to lose weight, we should go up on the roof, where we DO weight less.

     I receive email regularly from engineers, physicists, physicians, researchers of all kinds, who tell me they first got interested in the sciences by reading SF. That’s one major benefit. Another: We live in an era of ongoing change. That requires us to keep pace, especially since major social and political decisions lie ahead. Is cloning, e.g., a good idea, even if its safety can be guaranteed? Most of the population, and at least one president, would say no without even considering potential benefits. But the people who’ve been reading Greg Bear and Catherine Asaro and the rest of that deranged crew might have other ideas. In any case, they have at least had the opportunity to consider it.

     Does science fiction improve the way we see the world? I can’t imagine my life without it.

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     I enjoyed myself last weekend at ICON in Stony Brook. A lot of friends were there, although we were kept too busy to do much socializing. Still, it’s  a chance to touch base occasionally.

     One of the issues that surfaced during a panel: Should someone who is trying to break into the SF writing field start with short fiction or with novels? Four of the five people on the panel thought it was better to start with a novel, or that it didn’t really make any difference. That you should start with whatever feels right.

     I was the lone dissenter. I’m not convinced that anyone who‘s able to write a novel can‘t do an equally good job writing short fiction. Short fiction is easier to submit. (These days, you pretty much need an agent for a novel.) A story takes only a couple of days to write, as opposed to the year-long effort generally required for a novel. First submissions are usually rejected. The loss of three days is a lot easier to take than the loss of a year.

                                                    JOURNAL ENTRY #63

                                                           April 15, 2010

     While at ICON on Long Island, I wandered into the dealer’s room and picked up a copy of Sherlock Holmes: The American Years, edited by Michael Kurland. I‘ve had a lifelong passion for Holmes. Nevertheless I tried to resist buying the book because I didn’t want anything not absolutely necessary to carry onto the plane. (If you’ve traveled by air recently you know what I mean.) But I knew I’d get home and go looking for the book, so I picked it up. It’s a collection of ten stories, positing Holmes as a 22-year-old visitor to the USA in 1875, where he encounters luminaries like William Gillette and Mark Twain. I’ve only read the first three stories, but so far they’re thoroughly enjoyable.

     Stephen Antczak is preparing a book to be titled The Heart and Soul of 20th Century Science Fiction, to be published by Rocket Ride Press. (Love the name!) If we were putting together a collection of the twenty books that best illustrate what the field had been about since --I guess-- H. G. Wells strolled onto the scene, here is what we should have. Steve has it down to a hundred titles at the moment. I’m not sure how he’ll decide what the final twenty are, or how the book will be set up. But I’ve agreed to write commentaries on three: The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Vol 1 (edited by Robert Silverberg), The Best of Damon Knight, and The Martian Chronicles.

     I’ve finished the first of the three, and am now well into the Knight collection. It’s been an odd experience: Often, I can still remember quite clearly where I was, and what I was doing when I originally read a given story. I can recall being, for example, in the armchair at home, and having just finished lunch, when I read Anthony in Jerome Bixby’s “It’s a Good Life.” I will always associate Bradbury’s “Mars Is Heaven” with the front steps I was sitting on outside our house on Myrtlewood Street during an early summer evening. I was in grade school at the time. Why the nuns didn’t use Bradbury to turn on the kids in our eighth grade I’ll never understand.

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     I developed a passion for chess while I was in grade school. I wish there’d been a Dan Heisman in my life then. Dan is a chess master, based in Philadelphia. He’s a columnist for the Chess Café, and has also written several books on strategy and tactics. The fourth edition of his first book, Elements of Positional Evaluation, has just become available. I have his Looking for Trouble, and I wish I’d known some of this stuff when I was first starting tournament play.  If you‘re interested, pop by the café.  http://shop.chesscafe.com/item.asp?cID

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     For several years we’ve been making autographed copies of books available at the cover price plus $2 P&H. Yesterday, I discovered that ’media rate’ no longer applies to books in general, but only to those that can be described as ’educational.’ I.e., textbooks. It now costs $7.05 to mail one book.  Plus the cost of packaging. 

     Not sure yet how we’re going to respond. There might be other options. But the two buck rate is off the table.

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     I grew up assuming I’d live to see a manned mission to Mars. They’re talking about it now. The President has said he’d like to see it happen. For reasons I don’t entirely understand, my own enthusiasm has dimmed. Maybe it has to do with a sense that Mars is just a larger version of the moon. The canals have gone away. Maybe it’s that I don’t believe for a minute that the funding will be there.

     I’m interested in how you feel. And I suspect other readers are, as well. If you’d like to comment, please do. We’ll print a representative sample. If you want your name withheld, let us know.

                                               JOURNAL ENTRY #64

                                                        May 1, 2010

     Stephen Hawking created a stir last week when he said, in an interview about the possibility of contacting aliens, that it would be a good idea for humans to keep their heads down. That they might well be dangerous. I found myself thinking of Damon Knight’s famous pale smiling creatures   arriving with cookbooks.

     He’s right, of course, in that they might be dangerous. I’ve always been inclined to believe that cruelty derives from a lack of empathy, which implies stupidity. Only dummies are vicious. But it’s probably a naïve notion. Even if it’s true, though, it’s not a bad idea to keep in mind that  bright people give us technology, but politicians and lunatics get to use it.

     The reality regarding Hawking’s proposition is that any aliens, even barbarous types with spaceships, are probably much too far to constitute a threat. I think I’ve mentioned before in these pages that if we attempted a flight to Alpha Centauri at the velocity we achieved going to the Moon, it would take upward of 50,000 years to get there. One way. Hard to imagine keeping an invasion force happy for even a tiny fraction of that.

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     The media mail problem seems to have gone away. We are going to settle in at $3 P&H for any autographed books ordered through this website. That’s up a buck, but we’ve been losing money on shipping for years. Even padded envelopes have become expensive. One of the things SF writers never touch, and we never talk about at cons, is what happens to the economy if the inflation of the last sixty years continues. I bought my first gasoline at 23c/gal. And complained because 7c of it went for taxes.

     Almost everything else has gone up by a factor of ten to fifteen. Postage was 3c for first class. Packaged pies that now cost a buck were 7c. I used to pay 11c to get into the movies. I worked several years at the Penn Fruit, a Philadelphia supermarket, while I was in college, and it was no easy task for a customer to spend $20. When I started teaching in 1963, my first salary was $4500/yr.

     If the trend continues, we’ll be pushing money around in wheelbarrows.

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     I’ve received an unusual honor. Thursday evening I’ll be at Brunswick High School to present awards to a pair of outstanding students from the JROTC program. The awards are given by the Golden Isles contingent of the Military Officers’ Assn of America. They are intended to recognize various leadership achievements.

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     Two weeks ago, I invited comments on the feelings of readers concerning Mars missions. Should we go? Does it matter? Does anybody really care? Some responses:

     I have been giving some deep thoughts to Obama’s announcements concerning NASA. Need more info, but I have also lost that feeling of excitement concerning our efforts in manned flight.

                                          --Brian Ball

     We had an established timetable to revisit the moon, with a possible colony and travel from Earth orbit to Mars down the line. I am 100% in favor of colonizing space and exploring the solar system. Of course funding is a problem and this president has essentially killed NASA and given up American dreams of space exploration. So, what can you do? The dream will have to wait and hopefully one day we’ll be in a position to do something about it.                                --Kevin Sargeant

     As for your comment about Mars, my enthusiasm has dimmed also. Not because of Mars but because every president since Bush 41 has laid out a vision for NASA which is changed by the next president. I have no problem with the new vision set by Obama but I had no problem with the vision that Bush 43 set either. Long term funding is definitely a problem. My heart says we will not see humans on Mars in my lifetime (I am 53) but I am a willful optimist. I think that we will see past our petty concerns and really get that great adventure going. I still have a dream that we will find some form of life on Mars, even if only the fossil remains of life.

                                      --John Alcide      

     I do think Obama is trying to do the right thing, at least what he and his space advisors believe is right. NASA can’t keep doing the same thing forever. Bush’s plan to use Constellation to return to the Moon was a clear grab at nostalgia, which would resonate more strongly with an older, more conservative, segment of voters. Whereas Obama thinks he can appeal to the younger crowd by saying, “The Moon? That‘s your grandpa’s generation. Mars? Deep space? That‘s our generation.

     Will it happen? Will the funding be there? I go back to the financial/burden analysis: If by removing NASA involvement in the development and construction of what amounts to a LEO freight and passenger service and farming it out to a private operation that‘s used mostly its own capital to demonstrate ability and safety and thereby save NASA a lot of money and effort, then hopefully NASA can focus on better, longer-range missions, like those he discussed at the Cape a week ago. I think Constellation , like the shuttle, was turning into a project/flight system that tried to do too many things at once. The Russians have a more robust system with rockets and capsules built to do a specific job and nothing more. They have lost far fewer people and have kept their relative costs down and have the ability to get people up and down a lot faster. Granted cramped little capsules are not as sexy as wanna-be starships but it works and that’s what really counts in any sustainable endeavor.

                                                            --Chris Moore  

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     Meanwhile, the years go by, and the stars remain silent. Question: If we actually hear a signal, an undeniable indicator that there’s someone out there, what would be the reaction of the general public? (If you choose to respond, but you wish to remain anonymous, please indicate.)

                                                                Jack  

                                            JOURNAL ENTRY #65

                                                       May 17, 2010

     Maureen and I are just back from the Cape, where we watched the first space launch that either of us has seen. More or less. We were on I95 when it happened, and I’ve learned that isn’t an ideal location, especially when the launch isn’t directly ahead, as I’d expected, but is in fact at a ninety-degree angle out the driver’s window. In any case, it was a spectacular show. And of course there was an added wistfulness with the sense that the program is winding down.

     In (I believe) 1959, when the first call for astronauts went out, I was in the Navy. I’d already applied for flight training and been rejected because my color vision is goofy. I’m not color blind, but I have my own personal spectrum. Nevertheless, I thought about applying for the program just so I could say that I had. It was, I thought, as close as I could ever hope to get to a Moon flight.

     I should add, by the way, that Maureen and I were NASA guests a couple of years ago. The flight got postponed several times and we never got to see the liftoff. But I can remember looking up at the Saturn rocket, closer than I’d ever been, and thinking how high it was, how I wouldn’t even want to go up and sit in the shuttle, let alone be on board when they fire the thing off. This from a guy who got upset when he was told he’d never get to land a jet on a carrier deck. Amazing how we change over the years.

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     Now we wonder where the space program is headed. I’ve no problem with private industry taking it over, except that I can’t see where we save any money. The government is still going to be paying the bill. Who would have believed, when the early missions went to the Moon, that we would be at this point in 2010? What happened to Jupiter?

     We’re paying the price for wasting money through corrupt politicians and pointless wars. I can imagine George Washington’s reaction when, on a visit back, he learns that we’ve been bogged down in wars in Iraq and Afghanistan for years. In Afghanistan because we screwed up when we had Osama trapped and let him get clear. In Iraq for a reason that I’m still not able to guess. So much for conservative values.

                                                  #

     We were in Florida to attend the Nebula weekend, which was taking place in Cocoa Beach. The winners:

                  Short story:   “Spar,”   Kij Johnson

                  Novelette:     “Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black

                                          Mask, Gentleman, Beast,”   Eugie Foster

                   Novella:        “The Women of Nell Gwynne’s,”   Kage Baker

                   Novel:           The Windup Girl,   Paolo Bacigalupi

     Joe Haldeman was named a Damon Knight Grand Master.

     I’ve known Joe and his lovely wife Gay for more years than I care to count. He is a Vietnam veteran, and was wounded in action. He has a Bachelor‘s degree in astronomy, and a master‘s in creative writing, which he currently teaches at MIT. He’s won five Hugos, five Nebulas, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award. And a host of others.

     He has a wide range of interests. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s also a golf pro and a chess master. Joe is quietly unassuming, but his achievements tend to make the rest of us suspect that we’ve spent too much time hanging out somewhere. I should add that I’ve never known anyone I’d rather have at my back.

     He would tell you that much of the credit belongs to Gay. There’s undoubtedly a lot of truth to that. The lesson to be taken from their experience: Marry the right person.

                                                       #

     John Adams will be launching Lightspeed, an online magazine, June 1. (www.lightspeed.com) It will carry stories by Vylar Kaftan, David Barr Kirtley, and Carrie Vaughn. Meanwhile, I’ll be revealing the truth behind a massive coverup in “The Cassandra Effect.” The first humans to land on the Moon were not riding on Apollo XI. 

                                                       #

     One of the advantages of the annual Nebula Awards is that you get a chance to spend time with people you don’t see often. This weekend, they included Stan Schmidt, Bud Sparhawk, Sheila Williams, Susan Allison, Steven Silver, and Jeff Carver. The last flight of the Atlantis hung over the proceedings, and we found ourselves talking about story ideas (as writers inevitably do). The idea that kept surfacing: A story about a person who watches the last shuttle flight.

     Another item in the hews lately: Today’s kids will, according to researchers, be the first U.S. generation with a shorter life expectancy than their parents. Are we going backward? What do you think?

     If you reply, but do not want your name used, please tell me.

     Below are responses to the issue of how we would expect the American public to react if we received a bona fide signal from outer space:                

                                     -----------------------------

Bearing in mind that some people believe the moon landings to be a fake I suspect that any signal would be greeted with a mix of awe, disbelief or worse total apathy.

After a few weeks in the news it becomes a minor headline behind the latest Brad & Ang report, the next big thing on you tube and another 'is Osama Bin Laden really dead' article.

Speaking of you tube how ironic would it be if hidden amongst all the dross was a genuine signal in video form that was just presumed to be fake.

                         --Ted Keen

                  If we actually hear an undeniably alien signal, I think the general
public will react in a wide variety of ways: from unbridled enthusiasm
to casual interest, disbelief and indifference. Unless the signal is
the first of many, I suspect most people would just absorb the news,
talk about it for a bit, and move on. A lot would depend on how much
information was in the signal and the specific nature of that
information. I think we could expect the news to quickly be absorbed
into popular culture and spit back out at us in everything from novels
to movies, TV shows, comics, and more. I thought it was fascinating
to see the way the alien "grays" gradually moved from the fringes of
UFO research into popular culture until, in the '90s, the iconic gray
head had become the equivalent of the yellow smiley face that was
ubiquitous in the '70s. You could buy gray stickers in gumball
machines (in fact, you still can)! I love the idea that if such beings
exist and actually represent mankind's contact with an alien species,
the defining reaction of humanity is to make them accessible and to
merchandise the heck out of them. That strikes me as a very human
response.

                        --Jim Nelson

After reading your parting thought about reaction to alien contact my mind ran over all the possible forms that could take. You have covered many in your books and short stories, except for the "alien ships appear in our skies" scenario. I really wonder what the reactions were during that Orson Wells "War of the Worlds" broadcast in the late '30s. The initial reactions to landings, before the fighting erupted. Might be a good clue to how we would react.
I thought of scenes where the lone driver encounters a space ship in the middle of nowhere, astronauts find an obelisk on the Moon, planet discovered with obvious cities, alien space ships invade our skies to the scenario you laid out and it came down to one thing, presentation. How is this information presented to the public, or is it surprised? X-Files, Roswell, and other various conspiracy theories show how information or disinformation can make the public completely unsure of what is real, and influence how we might respond. Look at how information was controlled in communist countries during the last half of the twentieth century. I will give three more examples that show how facts, theories and opinions can collide into a swirl of emotion and hate. Global warming, autism vs. immunizations and the big one, Religion.
Getting a breaking news report that a signal has been detected would be the single most important events in human history, since the invention of writing. The first question I would have is "How Far Away?" Thousands of light years away seems a safe distance and would hopefully provide an opportunity for the various human races, cultures and religions to come together as a real human race instead of the "Us and Them" differentiations which have sprung up and hampered any hope of actual peace on Earth. However, the closer they are to us the more wary I would be of actual "contact". We definitely fear the unknown, and based on our own history, we have good reason to worry. Rape of the New World could have a whole new meaning. This might be different in several hundred years when we don't (hopefully!) have all of our human eggs in one basket (Earth), we are pretty vulnerable on just one planet whose location is known. (This could be an interesting story idea. Ever read Gregory Benford's Galactic Center series?)
But getting a signal and decoding it are two very different things, then there is actual communication. I am a pessimist in the intelligent life debate. I have "Here Be Dragons" by David Koerner and Simon LeVay on my reading list, a book on "the scientific quest for extraterrestrial life".

I am sure there is life out there, somewhere, but making contact with other intelligent life, given the vast galactic distances involved, would seem to be nothing more than a passing wave in the darkness, but it would be thrilling none the less.
                                                                                        --Brian Robertson

Looking at how some people react, even before a signal is actually received, gives a pretty good indication of what will happen, only multiply it by 1000. We already have the National Equirer stories, the questionable talk shows, the cults, the merchandising, the movies, etc. With an real honest-to-goodness signal, well ..... I'll be in the basement, call me when it's safe to come out :) Religious organizations will certainly put in their take on the situation.

As for the general population, it depends on how close the signal is. If it's several light years away, it may give people food for thought, but generally they would go about their daily lives. Bills still have to be paid, the kids driven to soccer practice, etc.

If the signal were really close, I guess there wouldn't be much time too prepare, so I suspect the government would keep things as quiet as possible until they could figure out what was going on.

As an aside, I just watched "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" on the weekend. I first saw it when I was 8 years old or so. The part where the aliens are trying to take little Barry away and the mother is freaking out really scared me back then. Now, some 30-something years later, I still get the heeby-jeebies watching that part. I was burrowed so far under the blankets, just my eyes were peeping out. As much as I'd be excited/thrilled to find out about a signal in a generaly sense, I don't know that I'd like one of them try to find its way down my chimney.

                                    --Bridget
 

You ask in your journal what the reaction of the General Public would be if we got "an undeniable indicator that there's someone out there." Well assuming the evidence is not a ship of somekind parked in orbit or coming at us, I suspect the general public reaction would be gee whiz, that's great, but how will that impact the Super Bowl?

                                                                                         --Mike Pratt

Perhaps my favorite scifi film of all time is Contact,partly because I think it is a wonderful story, and partly because I had the pleasure of Carl Sagan (and Frank Drake) as a professor at Cornell in the early 80s. I have always thought how well the story reflects how various groups would react: the military would be paranoid, the politicians would be indecisive and the kooks would congregate with tin-foil on their heads. I also think the majority of the general public would be unmoved - certainly less interested than they are with the infidelities of Tiger Woods or the antics of Lindsay Lohan.

                                                                                     --Simon Ellis 
 

     Thanks to all who responded.