Meanwhile, offline...

We may be only electrons ourselves, but two recent efforts at getting stories into the world in innovative, tangible ways have caught our attention: Ryan Boudinot’s geocaching project Lost and Found, and James Kaelan’s Zero Emission Book.

Robert Kloss' Birds of Prey

Contributor Robert Kloss recently posted this remix of a story by Laura van den Berg, and is looking for partners to swap remixed stories with.

Wolf Parts by Matt Bell

Wolf Parts, a limited edition minibook by contributor Matt Bell, is now available for pre-order from Keyhole Press.

Robert Kloss on 2009

Contributor Robert Kloss (author of “The Man Who Lived Amongst The Cannibals”) writes in response to our recent question about what sparked imaginations in 2009.

I’m drawn to heroes, the need for heroes, the inspiration of heroes, the failures of heroes. The egomania and madness of heroes. I believe in heroes, I suppose, the same way I believe in the potentials of fiction. That, plus my midwestern born football fanaticism, determines my moment of 2009. Late August, the scene: Brett Favre being driven to his new team while helicopters circled overhead. Brett Favre stepping out of the car, shaking hands with new coaches, his wife in tow, helicopters yet circling. Moments later, Brett Favre zipping passes to his new teammates. Already, championship starved Minnesota wondered: Is this the year?

For me, the moment was the return of the hero, Beowulf stalking back from retirement for one last shot at the dragon. Beowulf’s ego, Beowulf’s sense of duty, Beowulf’s fatal foolishness. Now, although his deeds aren’t really deeds, a football hero is still a hero if he manages to rouse within us a belief in certain possibilities, a greatness perhaps, much the same as the stuff a writer writes matters although, as my students sometimes insist, this stuff never happened, this stuff has no tangible relation to what goes on around us.

That Favre went on to have a terrific season, a nearly unprecedented season for an athlete his age, enhanced that first moment, cast it with an even more glorious sheen. His failure, was perhaps his finest moment: gray and worn, carried off the field with a badly twisted ankle, only to hobble back, again and again, beaten like he’d never been before, and yet never bowing, always firing away, was somehow even finer than the rest. Somehow our finest moments are the refusal to quit against the harsh inevitable failure. These moments often best captured by our greatest writers, Santiago and his raw red hands against the cruelty of the heavens. Beckett’s unnameable, muttering along, against the silence of the heavens, I can’t go on, I will go on. Sometimes captured by our athletes, images seen by helicopters hovering above.

Million Writers Award

Nominations are now being accepted for the Million Writers Award. If there’s a story you particularly enjoyed last year at Necessary Fiction, we hope you’ll take a moment to nominate it. Don’t forget that per the rules of the MWA, only stories longer than 1,000 words are eligible.

Best of the Web 2010

We are thrilled that four stories from NF’s first year will be included Dzanc Books’ Best of the Web 2010. They are (in order of appearance) “Baby Love” by Sara Levine, “Arizona’s Lonely” by Rachel Yoder, “When A Furnace Is All That Remains” by Steven J. McDermott, and “Family” by Jensen Beach. Congratulations to those authors, and thanks to Dzanc for the recognition.

Submissions reopened

As of January 28, we are reading submissions again. Thanks for your patience while we caught our breath.

Fiction as a Vessel For Historical Memory

Contributor Amber Sparks has posted some provocative thoughts about fiction and history at her blog.

David Erlewine on 2009

Contributor David Erlewine (author of “Marionettes” and “who stormed the beaches”) writes in response to our recent question about what sparked imaginations in 2009.

As a father of two young children, I often feel like I am overly protective. Sometimes, my mom chides me for not wanting the kids to play outside with some of our neighbors’ kids who, quite frankly, are animals. Hmm. Let’s say, since I suspect my neighbors follow my short fiction career as closely as my parents and my wife do, that their children are rougher and usually unsupervised.

I know I can’t protect them from everything. I know they are going to get taunted and hurt and cut and heartbroken. I know that for 60 hours a week, while I’m working or going to and from the job, my kids are with someone else. I know things can happen to them and I may not ever even find out.

I try not to obsess but then I’m up visiting in-laws for Christmas and I read a newspaper article about a Delaware pediatrician accused of molesting or raping a number of patients in his office’s basement. Apparently, he would insist that parents needed to stay in the waiting room while he examined their children alone. I don’t know what reason he gave to the parents, probably something about children needing to trust him or being more relaxed under his sole care. Then, purportedly, he took the children down to the basement and did all kinds of things to them while their parents read old magazines.

Had I been one of those parents, I would be a wreck for the rest of my life. This is why I tell my children not to trust any adults fully, even their teachers or friends’ parents. This is the reason that I do not want my children sleeping over at friends’ houses often, if ever. This is why I feel okay being a paranoid crank who may have watched Mystic River one too many times and sees such animals in grocery stores and on running trails and at work. I trust almost no one. I am okay with that. I’m not sure I’m raising happy and sweet children. I may be making them as paranoid as me. My son says sometimes that if a stranger comes up to him my son will punch him in the face until he’s all bloody and crying. He laughs when he says it, but I know he knows that strangers can, and sometimes will, do horrible things to him. My son is 5.

Court documents, according to news reports, said that from the good doctor in Delaware, cops seized at least six cameras, 100 DVDs and VHS tapes, dozens of reel-to-reel films and a small computer data storage device that contained videos of multiple forced sexual acts with child patients (some infants) — including intercourse, oral sex and fondling.

Several of the videos, court documents say, show the doctor, in blue scrubs, yelling orders at the toddlers, some of whom are crying or trying to run away. In one video, according to the court papers, Dr. Bradley has a “violently enraged” expression on his face.

I am sad for those children, sad beyond explanation. I am sad for their parents. I have no doubt some of them will feel shame for the rest of their lives every day, sometimes just looking at the faces of their children. Sometimes, I look at my children and think about this story. Last I heard, the good doctor was on suicide watch. If the allegations about what he did are true, maybe the final act of 56-year old Dr. Bradley will be a good one.

Yvette Ward-Horner on 2009

Contributor Yvette Ward-Horner (author of “Dogs and Refugees”) writes in response to our recent question about what sparked imaginations in 2009.

2009 was the year that solidified my desire to write a post-apocalypse novel. I couldn’t decide which was worse — watching the snake-faced bankers writhe in the light after they were yanked out from under their rocks, or seeing how easy it was to distract the rest of the country with detailed coverage of things like Balloon Boy, and Octomom, and the detox visits of interchangeable Hollywood celebrities. But perhaps the worst thing of all was a conversation I had with my brother while visiting him in Australia.

“We heard about the big shooting in the States,” he said.

And I responded, unthinkingly, “Which one?”

So this is the type of stuff that makes me envision a novel about the future. I know it’s been done, but I think it should be done again. And again. And it shouldn’t involve aliens, or nuclear war, or zombies driving around in Hummers with machine guns. It should bring forth ordinary people who can barely remember the fleeting glory of a once-great nation and it should illustrate how greed and apathy and listening to taped 911 calls for amusement led to the collapse of a powerful civilization. Meaningful fiction often acts as a mirror and is doing its job well when it makes people wince. That’s what fiction is for, that’s why it is necessary.