Thursday, December 15, 2016

RE: Percival the Lion -- a cli-fi short story by Jer Thorp on MEDIUM

Jer Thorp is a software artist, writer, and educator living in Brooklyn. He is a co-founder of The Office for Creative Research & adjunct professor at ITP.

yesterday

‏@blprnt TWEETS TODAY:

''Good morning. I wrote some cheery email chain cli-fi about children's literature and extinction''

LINK HERE AND BELOW TEXT

https://medium.com/@blprnt/re-percival-the-lion-7cfdcbe0ae46#.plguw4sl2

Re: Percival The Lion

From: Marcy Franklin
Date: December 10, 2019 at 3:40:59 PM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Percival the Lion, 2nd Edition

Dear Patty,

As you know, we are big fans of your book. It has been a big seller for Puffin over the last 5 years, and we are excited to bring the adventures of Percival to a new generation of young readers with the 2nd edition!

However, you may have recently read the sad news that pangolins are extinct. In our focus groups with parents, many of them have said that while Percival’s visit to see the wise old pangolin is an important part of the book, explaining to their children that pangolins no longer exist could make them sad. And we don’t want sad kids!

We have workshopped a few options for easy edit that involve more abundant animals. We’d like to suggest that you might make the small change that Percival visits the ‘the wise old aardvark’ (preferred) or the ‘wise old armadillo’ (maybe not geographically correct?). We’d ask that you change the dialogue on page 5 where Percival references ‘her scintillating scales’ to something physiologically appropriate and equally alliterative.

We go to print in the third week of January, so your quick reply would be much appreciated!

Sincerely,

Marcy

From: Marcy Franklin
Date: September 14, 2022 at 11:43:17 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Good news! And a request…

Dear Patty,

Good news! Percival the Lion has been listed by the Library of Congress as one of it’s ‘Best Children’s Books of the 21st Century’! The official announcement is expected to be made next week. We should see a nice boost in sales as the holiday season approaches (fingers crossed!), and in anticipation we’re planning a reprint as well as promotions for e-books and v-books.

We’d like to use this opportunity to make a small change to the text (with your approval!). First, it seems the jury is still out on wether the African Elephant is past the threshold for functional extinction. Still, we think it’s best to hedge our bets and we wonder if you can replace Ellie the Elephant with another species with less danger of disappearing. We know that Ellie is a main character in the book, but we trust that you can keep the spirit of the character without mentioning elephants. Maybe Zoe the Zebra? Allie the Antelope? We’ll leave it up to you! (ps: My daughter really loves the wise old aardvark!)

While we’re on the subject, it’s worth noting that the giraffe has recently been listed as critically endangered, so we might want to consider a substitute for Gary as well. Harry the very tall Horse? Personally I don’t think we need to get this change in right away, but could be worth thinking about for the 3rd edition!!

Best,

Marcy

From: Marcy Franklin
Date: February 14, 2023 at 1:42:11 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: FWD: Notice from Michigan State Department of Education

Another one :(

Marcy

Begin forwarded message:

| From: Michigan Department of Education
| Date: February 13, 2023 at 11:18:24 AM EST
| To: Puffin Press
| Subject: FWD: Notice from Michigan State Department of Education

| This is a notice that your publication has been removed from Michigan
| State’s Early Childhood Teaching Approved Materials List. Details
| are listed below. Instructions on how to petition this decision can be
| found on our website:
| http://doe.michigan.gov/approved_materials/petition

| Publication: Percival The Lion and His Animal Friends, 2nd Edition
| Author: Patricia Chang
| Publisher: Puffin Press
| Reason for Removal: Breach of state guidelines on climate communication
| Notes: No notes are available at this time.

From: Marcy Franklin
Date: April 2, 2024 at 10:17:16 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Rebrand

Hello writers!

We are pleased to announce that Puffin Press is now Seagull Publishing! All of our web and social media properties have been re-launched. Please be sure to use our new name in any interviews, etc.

Thank you!

Marcy & The Seagull Team

From: Marcy Franklin
Date: February 21, 2027 at 9:35:01 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Idea: Percival the Lion

Dear Patty,

As you have no doubt seen from your royalty payments, sales of Percival the Lion have declined significantly over the last few quarters. We’ve done some audience research on our end to try to figure out what’s going on, and what our readers have told us is that their kids have a hard time relating to Percival. Many parents told us that having to start by explaining what a lion was, or what a jungle was, made it hard to jump right in to the book.

That’s the bad news. The good news is that I think that we can work together to make your book a success again! Over the years we’ve had to work with many of our writers to make sure that their books stay relevant. Just last year we relaunched Mark Watkins’ classic Lets Go! series with three new titles: Lets Go to the WePlay!, Lets Go to the Voluntary Testing Center!, and Lets Go to the Climate Protected Enclosure! All best sellers!

If you’re interested, maybe we can arrange a workshopping session here in Maryland sometime in the next month. We’d love to find a way to continue to work together.

Let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Marcy

From: Marcy Franklin
Date: March 1, 2027 at 9:51:08 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Idea: Percival the Lion

Hi Patty,

Just checking in to see if you received the e-mail that I sent last week.

Some of the other editors and I had a brainstorm, and we thought: what if we moved the whole story to the ocean? As long as we avoid old-fashioned sea life (whales, dolphins, sharks, turtles, fish etc.) there are still a lot of exciting animals to choose from!

Marcy

From: Mackerel Publishing
Date: August 21, 2029 at 9:21:14 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Out of Print Notice

Dear Author,

This is an automated message to notify you that your book Percival The Lion and His Animal Friends, ISBN 978–1–56619–909–4 is no longer being published by Mackerel Books (formerly Seagull Publishing).

From: Amoeba Media
Date: March 2, 2031 at 9:22:56 AM EST
To: Patty Chang
Subject: Out of Print Notice

Dear Author,

This is an automated message to notify you that your book Percival The Squid and His Cartilaginous Friends, ISBN 978–1–56817–908–3 is no longer being published by Amoeba Media (formerly Mackerel Publishing).

===================

JER is the co-founder of The Office for Creative Research, and an Adjunct Professor at New York University's ITP program. From 2010 to 2012, he was the Data Artist in Residence at the New York Times R&D Group.
You can find a rambling selection of his software-based, data-focused artwork at blog.blprnt.com.

HE ADDS: Recently I have collaborated with NASA, visualized 138 years of Popular Science, and have had work exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan.
You can watch my TED.com talk here. Recent talks that have also made their way onto the interwebs include this one from PopTech, and this one from Eyeo Festival in Minneapolis.
I am a member of the World Economic Forum's Council on Design Innovation.
For keynote speaking, I am exclusively represented by The Lavin Agency.
Photo by John Davey

Sam Harris on Missing Christopher Hitchens 5 years after his passing into the great nothingness that is the cosmos from which we all sprang billions of years ago

Missing Hitch

It has been five years, my friend.

Five short years since you taught us how to die with wisdom and wit. And five long ones, wherein the world taught us how deeply we would miss you.

Syria. Safe spaces. President Trump.

What would you have made of these horrors?

More times than I can count, strangers have come forward to say, “I miss Hitch.” Their words are always uttered in protest over some new crime against reason or good taste. They are spoken after a bully passes by, smirking and unchallenged, whether on the Left or the Right. They have become a mantra of sorts, intoned without any hope of effect, in the face of dangerous banalities or lies. Often, I hear in them a note of personal reproach. Sometimes it’s intended.

You are not doing your part.

You don’t speak or write clearly enough.

You are wrong and do not know it—and it matters.

There has been so much to say, and no one to say it in your place.

I, too, miss Hitch.

FILED

filed

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

''Jay Dayrit's ''cli-fi'' story is well worth checking out in the current January issue of WIRED magazine, in print and online.''

Yesterday I wrote: ''Jay Dayrit's ''cli-fi'' story is well worth checking out in the current January -- online now -- issue of WIRED magazine, in print and online.''

Jay Dayrit's ''cli-fi'' story in WIRED's new FICTION ISSUE is well worth checking out!

Yesterday I posted this note: ''Jay Dayrit's ''cli-fi'' story is well worth checking out in the December issue of WIRED magazine, in print and online.''

LINK to the story HERE:

https://www.wired.com/2016/12/jay-dayrit-hold-dear-the-lamp-light/

Later, Jay in an email exchange wrote: "Thank you, Dan. I am glad you enjoyed my story. It is a subject near and dear to me, because I grew up in Micronesia, and it’s heartbreaking to see what is happening to the atolls there."

STORY HERE:

Hold Dear the Lamp Light: Before the Tides Rose Up

a short story by Jay Dayrit

copyright WIRED, copyright Jay Dayrit (c) 2017, 2018

The year Jojo and I started 8th grade, the power plant officially cut electricity to 2 hours a day. We’d already been through years of brownouts, of flickering lights, blinking monitors, older ag drones without artificial neural networks rebooting in their stations and randomly launching to spray the fields again or overfeed the chickens.

So when Public Works & Electric issued a message to all our devices telling us about its irregular hours of operation, no one was surprised. The message was full of obfuscating language, but anyone with a tide chart could spot the correlation. Anyone driving down the causeway to the airport, past the power plant, could see through its chain-link fence the turbines standing silent, tense as raised shoulders; the grounds swamped in seawater, the ebbing tide dragging out an iridescent Rorschach of petroleum.

A year before, the garbage dump had had to be relocated, a comparatively easier undertaking, after disposable diapers and plastic bottles began washing ashore on what was left of Ant Atoll, which had already lost its status as the premier diving destination for the Chinese.

The imminent blackouts stirred little protest from a population accustomed to making do. Aging water pipes had given rise to improvised cisterns situated at the eaves of every house. Unreliable supply chains necessitated that we all have competence in maintaining our equipment. Mother Necessity knows how to weld with a zip tie, patch with duct tape, and repurpose a soda can.
Our father took Jojo and me, along with a box of winged beans, bitter melon, and a dozen eggs, over to Bauer’s Hardware. He and Friedrich Bauer had been tennis buddies before the tractor accident. Back then the hospital was even less equipped to handle emergencies, and Friedrich died before he could be medevaced to Guam.

Jay Ruben Dayrit

About

Jay Ruben Dayrit (@jaydayhey) is WIRED’s editorial operations manager. His fiction has appeared in Sycamore Review, Minnesota Review, Santa Clara Review, and What Makes a Man: 22 Writers Imagine the Future. He is a recipient of the Headlands Center for the Arts’ Artist-in-Residence Grant and the SFAC Individual Artists Grant.

The produce was for Yessica, who had taken over the hardware store. In return, she discounted the Coleman lantern and three bags of charcoal, throwing in a 10-pack of Diamond Strike matches for free. She marveled at how tall Jojo and I had grown but confessed she still couldn’t tell us apart. Our father placed his hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Joseph here is interested in civil engineering. Alejandro, medicine,” he said, as if we’d come up with these ideas on our own. “They’ll be going to Central Pacific next year.”

Yessica’s smile couldn’t mask the flutter of melancholy in her eyes. Friedrich had graduated from there. Anyone from Micronesia who went to Hawaii for school attended Central Pacific High School. Its boarding program had gained a reputation for welcoming students from other islands like the Marshalls and Pingelap, lower-lying atolls that had all but disappeared. When the Office of Insular Affairs renewed the Compact of Free Association for the second time, the penultimate wave of Micronesians arrived in Hawaii, seeking access to better education, jobs, and health care, especially for the blood-borne cancers and autoimmune disorders that were still persistent three generations after nuclear testing. With that influx into Hawaii came a resurgence of housing and job discrimination, racial tension, and violence.

We’d heard that the faculty at Central Pacific encouraged empathy between Hawaiians and Micronesians, highlighting cultural commonalities like celestial navigation and traditional dances. But the fact that there wasn’t a lot of bullying, we knew, had more to do with safety in numbers. A few friends who were home for the summer had reassured Jojo and me we’d be OK, because we were Filipinos who sounded American. With our straight hair and lighter skin, we could pass. Still, we were told to learn how to block a punch. Better yet, learn how to throw one. Jojo and I practiced in our bedroom, aiming for the shoulder, where the sleeves of our T-shirts concealed the bruises that might betray to our parents how we were preparing for high school.

After returning from the hardware store, Jojo and I helped our mother empty the refrigerator, defrost the freezer, and scrape the barbecue grill. She marinated all the meat in soy sauce, calamansi juice, and garlic. Our father threw pork chops and steaks on the grill, but we all felt decadent eating so much red meat. And our mother worried about gout, to which Filipinos were predisposed. She rattled off the names of five of our uncles back in Pampanga as evidence.

Sp we gave the excess thawed meat to our neighbors. The house down the road was owned by the hospital and, over the years, was home to a string of American doctors offsetting their excessive student loans by practicing in underserved countries. Dr. Westlake and Dr. Phan, two female residents who enjoyed throwing cocktail parties, happily accepted the food. Up the road, the McGuires, who were from New Zealand, insisted our generosity was too much. They eventually relented, because our mother refused to take no for an answer. They had a son our age, Derek, whose company Jojo and I didn’t particularly enjoy. Whenever there was electricity, he’d run through the break in the gardenia hedge that separated our properties and challenge us to new games his parents let him download freely. He knew our cross-platform visors were a generation older and glitchier, that invariably we’d lose. “I win, again!” Derek would cheer behind his visor. Jojo and I would remove ours and exchange glances, consoled in knowing an only child needs to feel good about something.

Surely our parents found the rationed power supply inconvenient: driving to the fish market every day, cooking rice over an open flame, taking the clothes off the line so they wouldn’t reek of lighter fluid. But Jojo and I recall the blackouts fondly. We remember our whole neighborhood, just a scattering of houses along a gravel road, smelling of barbecued chicken and fish. We remember eating grilled corn and eggplant with bagoong. We remember Auntie Betina arriving for dinner with a Folger’s coffee can of chocolate chip cookies she’d somehow managed to bake in the brief window of electricity that day. We remember pink sunsets stretching across the sky, families in their backyards, laughter carried by the breeze in the waning sunlight. We remember the Coleman lantern, how its mantle, little more than an ashen net the shape of an infant’s sock, cast a steady light against the back of the house. Our shadows, sharp as paper cutouts, slid across the wall as we helped ourselves to seconds.

We took leisurely family walks after dinner. “An evening constitutional,” as our father called it, evoking an era when people said things like that. No porch lights to mark our path, not even the bluish glow of our devices, which we stowed to conserve battery power while the networks were down. The moon illuminated the road well enough. We stopped to talk to other people strolling after dinner, mostly Filipinos who lived in the neighborhood. The men crossed their arms atop full bellies, discussing local politics and the precarious economy. The women gossiped about recent expats from the Philippines—who was single, who wasn’t but acted as if they were.

Back home, by the light of the Coleman, our father, who could not be bothered with fiction, read biographies. Our mother read pulpy detective novels. Since the blackouts, she and her friends had started a book exchange that quickly extended beyond the Filipinas to the Americans, the Australians, even the Japanese. Jojo picked up The Serrano Trilogy again, which he’d attempted to read several times in the past but had always abandoned for his visor and its less challenging entertainment. Never much of a reader myself, I opted to flip through National Geographic, unfolding maps of faraway places, studying borders that would have to be redrawn sooner than any of us expected.

Before our predicament was overshadowed by the mass evacuations of Shanghai, Amsterdam, and America’s coastal cities to higher ground; before the famine conflicts spilled over from Africa to the Middle East; before Micronesia’s depleted population eventually triggered its economic collapse and the expats, our parents included, retreated to inner regions of their own countries; before all those major catastrophes, we had the blackout years. Now I hold dear the lamplight and the rustle of paper at our fingertips, our parents reading passages aloud, being together in the darkness. That first year, Jojo and I came to believe we could easily live without electricity. But we were children and our beliefs unrealistic, like the plan to relocate the power plant before it and everything else succumbed to the sea.

END

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

In the Age of Trump, more writers are picking up pen to try their hands at ''cli-fi'' and ''sci-fi'' novels as acts of resistance and striking back at Trump's lies about climate truths

In the Age of Trump, more writers are picking up pen to try their hands at ''cli-fi'' and ''sci-fi'' novels as acts of resistance and striking back at Trump's lies about climate truths

by staff writer

These are dark days, post-elections, no doubt about it. Which makes it extra nice to see cool people doing rad things with cli-fi.

Take for example the number of people, from Australia to the USA to the UK and Canada, in this troubling Age of Trump, who are picking up their pens to try their hands at ''cli-fi'' and ''sci-fi'' novels as acts of resistance and striking back at Trump's lies about climate truths.

Daily now, this blog is logging in emails and tweets and FB posts from writers around the world about how they intend to resist the Trump Years (2017 - 2021 and maybe as far as 2017 - 2025) by sitting down and writing cli-fi novels and movie scripts on spec and spending time getting their work published, screened and noticed.

A writer told this blog: "Okay we lost. Trump won. But we cannot sit back and let him get away with his lies about global warming. So I predict dozens of writers, novelists, will join the cli-fi movement, which is of course a subgenre of sci-fi, and publish some very important cli-fi novels these next 4 years as acts of resistance."

A novelist told us: "We need to resist Trump and his crowd with all our strength and emotions as writers of novels, be they sci fi or cli fi or spec fic. The next four years will be pivotal. I am working now on a cli-fi novel with the help of my NYC agent and we are aiming for for 2020 pub date."

One writer told us: ''Thanks for reaching out. I am trying to write the most poignant,
impossible-to-put-down novel possible, in a post-apocalyptic
climate-changed world, and I believe I am succeeding at it, even
though the book is less than half-way completed.

''I grew up with hard SF (Asimov, Niven, Clarke, and Brin, among
others), but I went for a Masters in English and read things like
Shakespeare, Steinbeck, Tolstoy, etc., for fun, so I consider myself
rather well read outside of SF as well.

''My cli-fi novels starts fast, grabs the reader by the heartstrings immediately, and doesn't let go, while being very romantic with a strong up-beat ending.''

Science Ficntion Novelist Jeff Vandermeer noted on his FB feed the other day:

''When I say, at global warming conferences, or on panels, "we may only have 30 years before things get really bad" a certain number of people push back against that, saying "no, that's not going to happen." But without any evidence to support that assertion. And I'm beginning to think that even though these folks say they believe in global warming, they really don't. They're really global warming deniers, to dismiss the probability. The other thing I'm seeing is people who jump on the environmental bandwagon to promote whatever their pet cause is...but who clearly don't give two shits about the environment. So I'm taking a harder line on all of this going forward.''

When someone asked Jeff what he meant by "taking a harder line on all this going forward, he replied:

''Oh - - well, first of all addressing some of this in the book on storytelling and global warming that I'm writing -- and challenging that on panels and re other events. [He is hoping to finish that global warming book by the end of 2017.] He added: "I'm still working on a post about activism because I want to get it right."] But I'm still spending the next month thinking through every aspect of what I plan to say and do on these issues.''

A climate fiction/science fiction novelist in Australia replied: ''I try to focus on the possibilities for change, partly because I feel we disempower ourselves by giving into despair, but I increasingly find myself wondering whether that isn't simply a form of denial. Because the reality is so horrific it's difficult to believe we could turn it around even if we wanted to (and the reality is most people don't).''

Said another commenter: "Speaking of Australia, one of the best but largely forgotten fictional near-future books on the potential effects of global warming and sea level rises was the rather prescient "The Sea and Summer" (1987), set in Australia, and written by George Turner (an Australian author), published in the US as "Drowning Towers" (1988)

To which an Australian with a new cli-fi novel comiong out soon replied: "O yeah, read that one. Horribly, horribly prescient."

Another commenter added: "30 years is generous. I suppose it's a question of what 'really bad' is."

And JVM added: ''Honestly, the odds are that we're all already dead. I mean, I don't want to be too depressing, but to me the choices we make in fighting now are not about us surviving but about the planet and about our grandchildren possibly surviving. And because it's the only ethical and moral thing to do.''

[ http://cli-fi-books.blogspot.tw/2016/12/novelist-jeff-vandermeer-writes-this_9.html ]

In an OpEd by Edward Rubin at Vanderbilt University, titled ''Donald Trump and the End of the American Century'' political science professor

and novelist ("The Heatstroke Line") says: "With his remarkable talent for turning his weaknesses into strengths by bald-faced denial ("No one respects women more than I do"), Donald Trump centered his presidential campaign on the slogan "Make America Great Again."

In fact, every policy that he announced, and every message that his candidacy transmitted, signals the end of America's leading position in the world.

We are entering a new era as a result of Trump's election, an era where we will be merely one of four or five contesting powers.

....The American Century has come to an end with the election of Mr. Trump.

It isn't easy to maintain a position of leadership. First, it demands that a nation generate rulers (one way or another) who command the respect of other nations.

Trump, who won by giving voters a chance to indulge their disaffection and xenophobia, is regarded as either a contemptible buffoon or a dangerous egomaniac throughout the world.

...At the COP21 conference in Paris, representatives of the 173 other signatory nations focused their discussion on strategies for circumventing the U.S. Congress. Trump has now declared climate change denial to be official U.S. policy. The reaction will be universal resentment and dismay.

People will not compare him to Hitler, although Trump may ultimately be responsible for as many deaths. Climate change itself will be the killer; Trump will more likely be seen as another Neville Chamberlain, whose willful ignorance and blatant cowardice in the face of danger led inevitably to disaster.

...The American Century is over, courtesy of Donald Trump.''

==================

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Our friend, a deep green climate activist in Seattle explains why he has stopped flying, period.

''I have stopped flying and owning a car in oder to really and seriously fight climate change: I use a bicycle, that's all. You should, too," writes a friend of this blog, who says he no longer flies in airplanes or drives or even owns a car.

Our friend, a deep green climate activist in Seattle explains why he has stopped flying, period.
''The ethical complexities of living in a time in human history when advocating for climate action often demands high-carbon work lives do not have to be so complex. It's simple. If you're serious about stopping climate change then stop flying and stop owning a car. Be an example, not a celibrity or climate guru hypocrite.

''This discussion all began with a tweetnado about whether or not Leonardo DiCaprio is a hypocrite: He is. He claims to want climate action, some folks have tweeted, but he’s constantly jetting around the world. While his personal emissions might not be that important in the giant scales of climate systems, did his professional carbon footprint undermine the message he’s delivering? Yes, it did and it continues to do so. Stop flying, Mr Movie Star!

''I don't fly to fight climate change and haven't done so for 20 years. I haven't owned a car in 25 years. I stay put in my quiet neighborhood on the other side of the world and I do all my communications via the internet and a cellphone. This is something I have quite strong feelings about, so I want to explain what (I think) are the issues involved and share how I see them.

''Some people are deeply concerned with climate impacts of travel itself. Flying is very CO2-intensive; CO2 is warming the planet, which is terrible: therefore flying is terrible, so every opportunity to reduce flying should be seized. To not do so, some of them argue, is to be a moral hypocrite. Leonardo? Mr. Gore? George Monbiot? Naomi Klein?
''We should be concerned with perception of hypocrisy: if climate leaders fly, others will not take them (or their message of cutting CO2) seriously. To these folks, it’s not the emissions themselves that are the true problem, it’s the failure to model the low-carbon lives climate advocates encourage us all to lead.''

''Still others feel that having well-known climate leaders travel at all is superfluous, or maybe even harmful to local efforts. Why do we need anyone traveling, they ask? The old ideas of substituting telecommunications and teleconferencing (or delegated trained local messengers) for a traveling speaker inevitably come up. And those ideas are correct.

''All I can do is share my own experiences as a man who’s stopped travelling completely and uses the internet and a cellphone to speak to and meet with others online who are working on the planetary crisis. Here’s how I see what I do.

''First, I hate flying. I gladly gave up flying and driving a car when I realized there was a better to do my PR and communications work. I suspect many others with large travel footprints would do the same if they only dared to take the leap. Have courage.

''All else aside, flying thousands of miles to speak on a stage or in a board room means spewing CO2 whose impacts will last millennia. You should hate that. You should hate knowing that you still do that. You should hate flying over a melting Greenland knowing that you are melting it as you soar by.

''All of us who work trying to change our thinking about the planet and how we live together on it are trapped in uncomfortable compromises. But there's no need to continue flying or driving a car. Bike to work. Walk.

''Second, one of the harsh realities of our day is that we must decarbonize at breakneck speed. Another is that since everything we do emits CO2, we can only decarbonize by spending our carbon budget down. We must use our “remaining” carbon budget to eliminate our carbon emissions. We must stop depending on burning fossil fuels to make the changes that will get us to zero carbon.

''That means lifestyle changes. Big ones. Now. Yesterday. No more hypocrisy. Think about it Leo. You too, Al. You too, Naomi. And you too, everyone reading this rant.

''Some people not emitting as much CO2 as they did is not the same thing as creating systems where everyone emits very little CO2. They’re different kinds of actions, and are only imperfectly connected. But we can stop flying and using cars now. Yes we can. Just do it. Act now. Tomorrow.
''Live events are no longer critical because telecommunications via internet software is in place now. People coming together, in person, face to face in large conference rooms is one of the best ways we have of opening people’s minds to new ideas. But we do this now via internet platforms. Stop kidding yourself. You can stop flying and using a car right now.

''Are some conference rooms — simply by dint of the power or cultural influence of the people there — more important to the work of changing systems than others? No. The internet can handle this just as well, even better.

''Some people are better than others at creating live face to face in person experiences that lead to changed thinking. Some speakers good; some are outstandingly talented. Putting good and talented people in front of influential audiences live online can also create mind-changing experiences.

''We are at a crossroad in the global fight against climate change. Stop flying now. Give up your car now. Feel the pain. This is what our descendants are going to experience daily, 24/7.

''You can start now. There's no time to waste. If you're serious.

''If you're not serious, then sure, continue being a hypocrite. ''

Friday, December 9, 2016

In a recent interview with a US-based reporter for a piece he is doing on cli-fi for a literary journal in the UK, due to appear in early January, we chatted on the phone long-distance for about an hour the other day.

In a recent interview with a US-based reporter for a piece he is doing on cli-fi for a literary journal, due to appear in early January, we chatted on the phone long-distance for about an hour the other day.

We spoke about many things connected to the rise and devolopment of cli-fi over the past few years, and he peppered me with a bunch of very good questions.

What the final interview piece will look like is up to the reporter and his editors and the headline they choose at the top of the page will be interesting, too. Subheadline, too.

So I wait now patiently for a link to the published interview, and while I have no idea what the final piece will look like, from the questions he asked me I think it will be a positive and forward looking article.

And since that website is seen by a large list of editors and publishers in the book industry, I think it will reach a wide variety of literary people and have a good impact in editorial offices. It might even lead to more news articles and opeds about this rising, rising new genre.

I sought out the reporter by email about three months ago, after finding his byline online with some very good recommendations and while he said he was interested in chatting about cli-fi for a story it wasn't until the first week of December that he finally got his assignment from editors at the journal. It was a lucky chance that they went for his pitch.

Now comes the waiting period between phone interview and publication.

Three weeks? A month? Late December? Early next year in January or February? We shall see.
Whatever the time frame, the phone call was fun and productive, and I'm looking forward now to the final edit.

The interview is due out any day now or in early January. Stay tuned.

This is what its like in the world of cli fi PR. One step at a time.

One interview leads to another. From the first big cli-fi story on NPR in april 20 2013 to this upcoming article in 2017, the meme keeps moving forward, attracting more and more novelists and screenwriters year by year.

Next cli-fi novels in 2017: Kim Stanley Robinson's NEW YORK 2140 set in, yes, the year 2140, a comic satire utopian cli-fi novel, coming in March . AND Ian Woolen's tragicomic MUIR WOODS OR BUST coming in July.

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