Williamson and Wilson on the Nova Scotia anthology

New anthology, Nova Scotia, was launched by Mercat Press Ltd last weekend at the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon) in Glasgow in 2005, with editors Neil Williamson and Andrew J Wilson in attendance.

A showcase anthology of stories by both established and up-and-coming writers, Nova Scotia represents a definitive portrait of the Scottish imagination. Among those contributing are Edwin Morgan; Hugo- and Nebula-Award-nominated authors Ken MacLeod and Charles Stross; Ron Butlin; Jane Yolen and Matthew Fitt.

The book attempts to address the nature of Scotland and Scottishness from many imaginative angles, so how did the editors select the stories?

Williamson: Well, as it's a collection of Scottish speculative fiction, we imposed two basic qualifying rules: 1/ the authors had either to be Scottish by birth or residence, and 2/ the stories had to feature some aspect of Scottish life, history or culture. The second of these criteria was, we admit, fairly arbitrary, but as the saying goes, we knew it when we saw it.

Wilson: We also wanted to cover a wide range in terms of genre, style and subject matter, and everything we accepted had to be top-drawer material with fascinating ideas, engaging characters, and tight, muscular writing.

Williamson: Weren't asking for much, were we?

The two editors are longstanding friends and working as a team on the anthology was an easy extension of their relationship.

Williamson: It was a fairly straightforward process, with both of us reading all of the stories and then comparing notes. Fortunately we pretty much agreed on all of the ones we liked, and all of the ones we didn't like. So, it was actually fairly easy to draw up a short list, and then choose the final selection.

Wilson: It was weird - we'd both been prepared to have disagreements, and had even had a "wild card" rule from the start, meaning that, if one of us really loved a story that the other hated, we could include it, but only for one story. In the end, neither of us had to play the Joker. Far more difficult than making the final cut was working out the best order to run the contents... We agreed on that too!

What aspects of Scottishness have they tried to articulate through the collection?

Williamson: I think it's more a case of us looking on to see what aspects the writers chose to highlight. There's everything in there from literary history (Burns, Johnson & Boswell) to contemporary office life, from the presbyterian religous ethic to 17th century witchery, from the engineering idealist to the closure of the traditional industries, and from the remembering of our war heroes to the difference in outlook that we have on current wars compared to, say, the Americans. We've been quite surprised at the breadth of subject.

Wilson: The book is more about Scotland as a state of mind than a nation state. I think people from all over will see reflections of themselves in these stories. "We're a' Jock Tamson's bairns," as we say .

Why do they think that Scottish authors have become such a influential presence in speculative fiction?

Williamson: I'm not sure that's the case, or if they have, that there's any real reason other than geographic accident. I don't think there's anything in the water or the genes or anything like that. Certainly you could point at Alasdair Gray and Iain M Banks and Ken McLeod and try to make a case, but of those who have recently joined them Richard Morgan and Charlie Stross are only Scots by residence, so perhaps any argument you might make would fall down there. Of course, there have been a bunch of writers plugging away in groups in Glasgow and in Edinburgh and Fife that have made it into the limelight recently. So perhaps they are the generation inspired by Banks and Gray, picking up their torches and running with them.

Wilson: I take another view. For a long time, Scots put themselves down privately while showing a rather silly bravado and nationalism in public. Times have changed, and now many are just 'getting on with it'. I think that attitude is attractive to the many people who have come to settle in Scotland. Devolution meant that it was time to deal with our problems ourselves, not moan about the English, and - more importantly - then expect them to bail us out!

Williamson: I hadn't thought about that. There's definitely been more of a cohesive national ideal that has arisen been the post-Thatcher days and the settling in to devolution - a who-we-are, not what-we're-not. That's certainly been an empowering change in other areas of the arts - the music scene for instance. The same may well be true for writing.

And finally, can they suggest which aspects of the collection they think will be of most appeal to the speculative fiction fan?

Williamson: Hopefully the variety of the tales. There's a real spread of different sorts of stories in here: supernatural tales alongside planetary SF, posthumanism cheek by jowl with contemporary horror. Something for everyone.

Wilson: The top-notch writing, the fact that there's quite a lot of humour and the electrifying mix of approaches.

Williamson: There's also the chance for readers to pick up short stories by established authors better known for their novels - how often do you get your hands on a new Ken McLeod story? - and by new authors they're just starting to hear about.

Wilson: Yes. What he said too!

For more information about Nova Scotia, visit the Mercat Press website.

Are Awards important? Fowler and Chadbourn Discuss

Over on the British Fantasy Society's message boards, the ran a showcase of all the nominees for 2005's British Fantasy Awards.

Not only was it a great place to find some pointers to great fiction but, when Chris Fowler posted a message saying how important the awards were, it gave me pause for thought. When Mark Chadbourn echoed the sentiment on the same message boards, we just had to get in touch with both authors and get our questions answered.

Both Fowler and Chadbourn were nominated for BFS Awards in 2005: Fowler for Best Novel with The Water Room and Best Novella with Breathe; Chadbourn for Best Novel with Queen of Sinister. And both authors were candid and modest in their answers…

Why do you think Awards are important?

CF: I never used to, mainly because it seemed the wrong people got awarded. I would attend awards ceremonies with a growing sense of frustration. I mean, everyone knows the judges are blind, right? But I've gradually modified that view to understand the sense of worth that awards and public encouragement can give a new author. It's validation for inspiration.

MC: It would be wrong to give the wholly cynical view that they're linked to the 'business' of writing. Awards are important because it shows people are reading your stories, and considering them and appreciating them with the same degree of care that any writer puts into any story. They're personally satisfying, and in a notoriously poorly paying industry they're a reward for all the lonely hours of hard labour. If you're also asking about the business side, then they're important too, because it makes other publishers, editors, agents, film people, booksellers, and all the money-making sorts pay attention. There are thousands of books published every year and it's easy to get lost in the mass. A reward can elevate you a little bit so that people have a reason to pay attention.

What would we lose if we didn't have awards?

CF: I regard the nominations as more important in a way, because without them I would certainly not be aware of all of the excellent small and specialist press publications that appear each year. And unlike film awards, a small release stands just as much chance of receiving attention as a big launch. So we would lose awareness.

MC: Nothing substantially. There is a major downside to all awards - from the Oscars down to some local writing group. The general feeling is that an award reflects the best work in the business. That's not always the case. Many people voting have not read widely so it reflects the best of what they have read - which means a lot of better work easily slips by. Then they can be a reward for people who are very professional at getting out there and promoting themselves and selling their works. And in some awards, particularly the Oscars, there's a huge political element where the gongs are handed out to people who 'deserve' them, rather than the work itself. But the awards always add some colour and noise and a reason to write and talk about pieces of work, so that in the main is what would be lost.

Are some awards more important than others?

CF: Obviously the Booker carries more weight than the Bram Stokers, but it's what it means to you personally. My BFS nominations mean more to me than my crime nominations, because this is where my real interests lie, and I feel that my horror/edge/fantasy peers are more demanding and discerning. Therefore it means more to win in their name.

MC: Depends what you mean by 'important'. Personally, all awards are gratifying, wherever they come from. Professionally, certainly some business-types have a hierarchy of awards - the harder the awards organisers have worked at making their particular trophy a prestige event, the numbers of people voting, the 'name recognition' factor, all play a part in where they stand in the supposed pecking order. I honestly don't lose any sleep over that side of the business.

How many awards had you already won by the time you picked up your latest BFS Award?

CF: I'd won just one before [Best Short Story in 1998 for 'Wageslaves'], then I received two together [Best Novel and Best Short Fiction in 2004 for Full Dark House and 'American Waitress' respectively] so I now have three BFS awards. The base fell off the bottom of the last one and nearly killed my cat.

MC: Two, I think. Fear magazine's Best New Author award, and Peeping Tom magazine's Scaremonger of the Year. Both very gratifying. [Chadbourn won a BFS Award in 2003 in the Best Short Fiction category for 'The Fairy Feller's Master Stroke']

What difference did any of the awards make to you in terms of:

Personal ego?

CF: Actually I don't have much confidence, so it's a personal boost and makes me feel that I'm still on the right track, because these awards are decided by people who still find the time and energy to read, and these days that's something like a miracle.

MC: Both came as a complete shock, as I never consider myself to be in the running for any award. They didn't give me a big head - just a slowly dissipating sense of disbelief, and then a ruddy glow of being loved! The BFS Award was great because I've been a member of the society for many years and it felt like recognition from my peers.

The publishing industry?

CF: My publishers were far more pleased than I expected them to be, and have started saying 'award-winning author' - even the really snobby ones!

MC: On the back of the Fear Magazine award, I got myself an agent and a publisher for my debut novel so a huge difference. It's fair to say that that award kick-started my writing career all on its lonesome. The BFS Award for my novella 'The Fairy Feller's Master Stroke' I think secured me a Japanese publishing deal.

General public response?

CF: The general public reads JK Potter and Dan Da Vinci. I'm more interested in answering awkward emails from readers who expect a bit more from their books.

MC: All the awards earned me some extra nods from people who might not have noticed me before.

Any additional sales?

CF: Good question. I can't seem to get a straight answer from anyone about that.

MC: Bugger all.

Were there any other unexpected repercussions?

CF: You get quite a few new first time readers, or lapsed readers who rediscover your work, like Catholics attending church again. I tend to skip certain authors' works, so I know how easy it is. For example I've skipped most of Bentley Little's books, but that's because he's rubbish.

MC: Yes, my local newspaper and radio station treating me like I'd just come home with the Nobel Prize after winning my BFS Award, and subsequently people I didn't know coming up to congratulate me in the street!

For more about the authors, visit Chris Fowler's website and Mark Chadbourn's website.

Barb and J C Hendee on Vampires

Orbit Books are in the middle of releasing a brand new vampire fantasy series from husband and wife writing team, Barb and J. C. Hendee.

Dhampir (a folk-lore name for a vampire hunter) opens the series and introduces a young woman called Magiere, who happens to be a fake. For years, she and partner-in-crime Leesil, have been travelling around villages, conning the poor folk out of their hard-earned cash in return for 'cleansing' their village of the undead. Now she's had enough and wants to settle down to an honest living running a tavern.

En-route to their new home, the pair are attacked by a real vampire and events start spiralling out of control. Where did Magiere's sudden fighting skills and immense strength come from? Why does she heal so quickly? And why did her attacker seem to recognise her?

In the second volume, Thief of Lives, it's guilt that sends Magiere and Leesil off fighting the Noble Dead again. The events of Dhampir left their town in economic crisis after Leesil burned down the largest warehouse on the docks, and the offer of a lump sum from the council of Bela, at the capital city, would alleviate the problems they've caused. All they have to do is use their skills to eradicate the vampires terrorising Bela.

And Magiere's dhampir skills are expanding as her father's undead, vampire blood asserts itself over her mother's human heritage, allowing her to see through the eyes of the vampire they seek.

We caught up with the Hendees and popped a few questions about the new series - however, the conversation included some SPOILERS so skip the sexual tension answers if you don't want to know what happens at the end of Thief of Lives.

How much time do you spend finding the correct motivators for your characters and how important an aspect is it to your writing?

Barb: Oh, this question is both easy and difficult. Character motivation is everything. You cannot have a workable plot without the characters’ actions and decisions driving the story, and all decisions that people make are based on their own psychology and personal experience.

J.C.: You have to know your characters as people instead of just puppets. Without this approach, the motivators you discover are not the character’s but your own.

Barb: But how much time do we spend? I’m not sure how to answer that. It takes us a year to put out each novel, but we know the characters so well that they are almost “alive” to us, and we just know what they would do. Occasionally, J.C. or I will look at a scene the other person has written and say something like, “Oh, Leesil wouldn’t do that. He’d never do that.” Then we make changes, but this situation doesn’t come up too often.

J.C.: Or worse, we’ll write something for a character and hear Leesil, Magiere, or even Chap butt in immediately with some outraged objection—which sometimes means a scene or even a whole plot thread needs a closer look before they are satisfied. Of course we do occasionally argue back with them.

Barb: We just know what Magiere, Leesil, Wynn, Chap, Welstiel—and even Chane—would do in almost any situation.

What's the trick to maintaining the sexual tension between Magiere and Leesil?

Barb: Sexual tension? What sexual tension? Hah! I’m just joking.

J.C.: Hmmm… well, “sexual” tension is really only one dimension among many between any two characters who are looking at each other in more than a friendly way. The sex part is actually the simple part. The rest is far more interesting.

Barb: I think that sexual tension is much more important than the actual act of sex when it comes to what’s on the page, but some writers keep their readers interested by constantly having the characters “almost” break past their emotional barriers to become a real couple . . . but never quite.

J.C.: It’s the old “come here, come here, get away, get away” syndrome. And it only works with readers for so long… then it gets BORING!

Barb: We didn’t wish to do this with Magiere and Leesil.

J.C.: Too many readers (and writers) think romance is all about “getting together.” It’s what we’re programmed to think by the media. And as much as it is interesting and exciting, it isn’t what “relationships” are all about. Real life is about relationships of all types; the same goes if you want the characters to become real.

Barb: It takes Leesil and Magiere two whole books to really “get together,” and then we wanted to have our two main characters continue to be in love and behave like two adventurers who are deeply committed to each other.

J.C.: In all the best ways, and perhaps some of the worst.

Barb: There is no “happily ever after,” as our heroes have discovered.

J.C.: And as in real life, they have to work and fight for what they can get. Unlike real life, they face obstacles and oppositions that grow with their awareness of their own past, present, and future.

Barb: People need to grow together and change together. I think that’s what J.C and I have to offer the readers, and we’ve been told this is rather unusual in a fantasy series.

J.C.: And this is what real “romance” (to turn another way) is really about. Not getting together, but staying together.


The books form a series but you go out of your way to round each volume off as an almost stand alone story. Why go the extra lengths?

J.C.: As the saga moves on, there will be more dependence between the volumes. Dhampir stands on its own, and even Thief of Lives (#2) does well. A reader might struggle through Sister of the Dead (#3) as a first read, but Traitor to the Blood (#4) will lose most readers if they haven’t at least read Sister. As to Rebel Fay (#5, working title), it would be nearly impossible to follow every thread without having read most of the previous books.

Barb: In the American market, writers are often told that even in a series, each book should be able to stand on its own in the sense of plot. Of course, the further any writer gets into a series, the more difficult this becomes.

In your writing partnership, what do you argue about the most and what aspects come the easiest?

Barb: Most aspects come easily because we spend all our time together, and we get along so well. We almost never argue.

J.C.: [cough, cough] She’s always the peacemaker. I have to really work hard to goad her into a decent scrap.

Barb: Dhampir was written in fits and starts over a longer time period. With Thief of Lives, we hit the ground running and had to create, outline, and write an entire novel in a relatively short period of time.

J.C.: About 11 weeks total for the first draft. Hard lessons we will never repeat!

Barb: I view that book as our “learning curve” for process. Since Thief, we’ve written Sister of the Dead and Traitor to the Blood together, and we’ve learned what works best for us.

J.C.: We use extensive narrative outlining, mapping out the entire book by plot thread, character POV, chapter and scene. Sometimes more.

Barb: I do a lot a lot of the first drafting—but not all of it.

J.C.: I come behind and flesh things out, sometimes diverting things in new directions that come up. When I’ve caught up to her, I’ll jump to somewhere else in the outline to do a little drafting and development.

Barb: I follow up behind him and revise, and then he comes behind me . . . and by the time we finish the first draft, we often can’t tell who wrote what. The only problems that come at this stage occurs when I have envisioned something differently than he did, and he makes changes along the way that don’t fit with something else I’ve written down the line.

J.C.: Even with an extensive outline, this can happen. Occasionally, we’ve argued about how to correct something like this, but these moments are brief, and we work it out.

Barb: I write much better than I speak, and I have a terrible time expressing the thoughts in my head verbally. This can be a problem in collaboration.

J.C.: She means she won’t fight with me. [sigh]

Barb: We sometimes have trouble after our editor has read the first draft and made suggestions. For example, with Thief, our editor told us to cut 50,000 words.

J.C.: [expletive deleted.] In our recent book Traitor to the Blood, we had a couple of skulking elves who were minor characters and predominantly in the background. Our editor told us to make their motivation much more clear. I was worried this might throw away too many secrets from book five, Rebel Fay, which will take place up in the Elven Territories.

Barb: We were stumped regarding what to do—which is rare. However . . . I understood our editor’s concern that Traitor would not work without some pretty stark clarification, so I wrote an “info dump” through Chap’s point of view, hoping this would spark some ideas in J.C. I knew he would hate it, but I thought it might it get us moving forward.

J.C.: I hate info dumps!

Barb: We didn’t exactly argue, but it was tense in the home office that day.

J.C.: When we finally got to talking, Barb was able to play sounding board for me. I began seeing what she was up to. I started to pick out finite parts that revealed too much for the saga’s future, and other parts where we had to go further still in showing what was happening behind the scenes in the current book. I started to hatch a scheme, and Barb expanded on it.

Barb: And from there we basically re-wrote one thread of the book that actually let us expand Chap’s history and awareness already in the text.

J.C.: It actually improved the book in ways that neither we nor our editor had envisioned. Or so we like to think.

Barb: This is how we overcome a lot of hurdles. We stick together no matter what.

For more about the Hendees and their vampire infested worlds, visit The Noble Dead website.