Monday Mystery Mime

Every week our friends at Feathers and Toast produce a mystery mime for you to guess.  Have a go in the comments, and we’ll announce the answer next week.

There were no winners to last week’s mime, which was obviously a flame flickering inside a Halloween pumpkin, you really do need to try harder.

Tallulah has given you all a clue this week, for all the good it’ll do. It is “Halloween Activity”. Good luck, Nibblers.

And our #MemeMonday meme also can from Feathers and Toast this week, as they are clearly taking over the world, one satirical news site at a time.

Share

Amber LaLanie Set to Star in New SciFi Film

Veteran music legend Amber LaLanie, known for her trademark pink hair and energetic stage presence was spotted this week eating lunch with Sylar Roth and Kimi Solomon of Satin Thunder, Conrad Chase, Elise Tran, Miranda Keys and Max McDonald. But what has brought together all these rock legends in one place? Well, our sources tell us that the answer is up and coming film producer, Babette Stevenson, and her forthcoming film, Heartsong Warriors.

Our sources tell us that the musicians have come together to discuss production notes on this musical sci fi extravaganza.  Whilst we have been unable to find any information anywhere regarding the production, Conrad told reporters waiting outside the restaurant that the casting process had begun.  We are excited to see where it might lead.

More interesting for LaLanie fans is that she was spotted holding hands with Stevenson in the restaurant, leading to speculation that the two women may be an item. It will not be a surprise to fans, that the pair dodged reporters and avoided commenting on any speculation around their relationship, but we will keep you posted.

Speaking exclusively to Newsnibbles, author Erik Schubach told us:

These alternative facts are keeping me up at night, but I’m sure I’m just spreading misinformation.”

And you can read more on this story below.

Share

Monday Mystery Mime

Every Monday our friends at Feathers and Toast perform a mysterious mime for your guessing pleasure.  Have a guess and we’ll reveal the answer next week.

And this week’s Monday meme was this brilliant poem from the incomparable Jane Jago. Do check out her books if you get the chance.

Share

7 Questions

Today’s 7 Questions is with Sci Fi author, J Scott Coatsworth. His new book The Stark Divide is out this week, and we caught up with him whilst he was on his launch tour to find out more.

1. So, you have been writing since 2014, what did you do before that?

My husband Mark and I run a number of directories for the queer community, including PurpleRoofs.com, GayRealtyNetwork.com, and PurpleUnions.com. We started the first of these in 1998, and have been working on them ever sense.

Before that, I worked a variety of jobs, but many of them related to publishing – I was the marketing head, promotions director and customer service manager for Hunter House Publishing (it was a very small publisher). I worked for a few years at Barnes and Noble selling books in a retail environment. And I was the Customer Service Key Accounts manager for Publisher’s Group West, a much bigger company than Hunter House that distributed hundreds of independent presses.

And as for writing? Well, I started that when I was in fifth grade, and stopped in the mid-nineties when ten publishers rejected my first novel.

Funny how things change. 🙂

2. In 2017, a lot of sci fi and fantasy series are trying to be more inclusive with their characters, what else would you say needs to be done to make more people feel represented in the genre?

I love writing characters who aren’t like me – I’ve written gay characters, trans and lesbian ones, bi characters, an asexual character, characters of color, and even one with OCD. I always try to be respectful of different kinds of people, and to find someone who’s a part of that community to read what I’ve written and to steer me right where I’ve gone wrong.

But I think it’s also important for folks from each of those communities (and others) to write their own stories and their own truths. And even more important, for their stories to be published, read, and celebrated. While gay male representation has greatly increased in print and in TV and film, we’re still lacking representation for the rest of the LGBTIQA rainbow, and for people of colour as well.

I’d love to see the same TV shows that proudly announce a new white gay character announce a black lesbian, or a Mexican aromantic asexual, or a non-binary Mayor of New York City.

And then we have to read and watch these stories.

3. For people looking to read more sci fi with LGBT characters, where would you recommend they start?

It depends. I have a few faves in the “mainstream” sci fi and fantasy realm.

 Swordpoint, by Ellen Kushner
 The Chronicles of Arun, by Elizabeth K. Lynn
 Ethan of Athos, Lois McMaster Bujold
 Larque on the Wing, by Nancy Springer

But there are also a lot of great writers working today, especially in sci fi romance:

Angel Martinez
 Carole Cummings
 Amy Lane
 Fletcher Delancy
 Jo Tannah
 Wendy Rathbone
 Jamie Fessenden
 Andrew Q. Gordon
 Ben Brock
 Arshad Ahsanuddin

and many more.

You can find these and more here:

sci fi

4. What inspired The Stark Divide? If you had to compare it to something else (I know, that’s always a tough question) what would it be?

It sprang off the novel I mentioned above – “The Stark Divide” is actually the backstory of that tale. But it was also influenced by works by other authors—from Peter F. Hamilton’s Commonwealth series, to which I owe a debt of gratitude for the idea of a living world—to “Rendezvous With Rama” for the generation ship/cylinder world idea.

And of course, a lifetime of reading sci fi.

5. If you could have dinner with anyone, living or dead, fictional or real, who would it be?

Oooh, tough one.

I think I’d have to pick Anne McCaffrey. She wrote books that really spoke to me when I was growing up—books that made me laugh and cry and sigh in wonder. And she had gay characters in her stories, even if they were minor ones.

I used to dream about going to Ireland and showing up on her doorstep to have tea with her—though when I say it out loud, it sounds a little stalkery. But still, it would have been amazing to meet her and to have a little time with her.

6. Speaking of dinner, describe your ideal sandwich.

Multi grain bread, roast turkey breast, avocado, bacon, light on the mayo, with a side of fries. Yeah. That’s it.

7. Where do you stand on the topic of pet couture?

I support every pet’s right to be fabulous. Except Shar Peis. They are fabulous in their naked skin.

And Scott is all over the internet. Find him below.

Website

Facebook (personal)

Facebook (author page)

Goodreads

QueeRomance Ink

Amazon

Share

Who Ate All the Cake – Revealed

A recent polled has revealed the 50% of people blame it on the badger.  In a survey conducted by Newsnibbles earlier this week, two of a total of four respondents blamed cake being eaten on the badger.

Whilst one person took full responsibility, and one person suggested a full investigation, the majority chose to sling blame at the badger.  Having employed a similarly scientific method to that used by the government when deciding to trial and then continue with the badger cull, we can now come to a similar conclusion, and that is, in fact, all the badgers’ fault.

In the absolutely genuine and in no way faked image below, you can see a badger indulging in cake. Whilst this image does not serve to prove that the badger ate ALL the cake, you have to admit, it’s pretty damning.

What do you think? Tell us in the comments below.

Share

Monday Mystery Mime

Every week, our friends at Feathers and Toast perform a mystery mime for you to guess. If you guess correctly before Friday, then Tallulah will perform the mime of your choosing.

Last week’s mime was quite obviously a squirrel on high alert-as it’s the nut gathering season… Shira Levine and Paul Uhler are the winners, although how they worked that out is the real mystery.

Have a go at this one, answers in the comments.

 

Share

Found in Translation

Found in Translation is a section of Newsnibbles where we team up with our friends at Ammy’s Delight to learn a Dutch saying, and see if it has an equivalent in English.  It’s fun to learn all the things we have in common, so if you have an equivalent in your language, we would love to hear about it. Why not post a comment?

So, without further ado, this week’s saying is:

Zo grijs als een duif

Which translates as:

So grey as a pigeon

What is interesting in with this one, is in English we don’t really compare grey to anything. We might say;

Black as a crow

Or even;

White as snow

But we don’t really use grey. What colours do you say in your language?

Share

Monday Mystery Mime

Every week Feathers and Toast performs a mystery mime for your guessing pleasure.  If you can guess the mime before Friday, you’ll be in with a chance of winning the mime of your choice being performed, but remember, if you don’t guess, your chances go down to 0.

Last week’s mime was a hurricane, apparently, and it was so clear that two entire people guessed it. So, well done to Jamie Morrison and Joe Pranaitis.

What do you think this week’s is?

And this week’s #MemeMonday was brought to you by the ever creative Angelika Rust.

Share

Beyond the Horizon

A piece of flash fiction by C H Clepitt

Walker checked his watch.  It was new.  A company just on the edge of Smoke, called Claymore and Tims, (which always made him think of a weedy little man trying to wield a huge sword), had just started developing this ‘wrist watches’.  They were smaller than pocket watches, and he always worried that he would push the tiny winder too far and break the spring. As such, he leaned towards underwinding, and his watch subsequently lost time.  Now, he was wondering just how late Judge Thompson was.  He kissed his teeth and leaned back in his chair.

“The judge will be with you shortly,” Jenkins, the judge’s clerk poked his tiny spherical head out from the office.  His thick spectacles engulfed his face, the lenses reflecting the room and giving the youth an almost mechanical look.

Walker held his watch to his ear to check that it was still ticking.

“Oh! You’ve one of the new wrist ones! How do you find it?” Jenkins asked eagerly.

“Small,” Walker said frankly. “And damned if I don’t always check my pocket first, every time!”

“Jenkins!” The voice of the judge boomed from the office behind them. “Stop your chit chat and send Walker in! You’re worse than my wife for gossip, boy!”

Jenkins’ cheeks flushed and he opened the door fully. “The judge will see you now, Sir.”

Walker nodded, rose gathering his papers and headed in.

“That will be all, Jenkins,” Judge Thompson dismissed the terrified youth. “So, Walker, how is it you always end up with the no win cases, eh? Damned bad luck, or are you cursed?” He laughed, leaned back in his chair and opened the walnut box on his desk, producing a thick cigar.  As he lit it and inhaled; a heady scent of cigar smoke filled the room.  Taking his queue from the judge, Walker took his cigarette case from his pocket and lit one.  He took a seat without waiting to be offered and looked at the judge for a moment, studying his countenance, his self satisfied grin that was permanently emblazoned on his face. The look of a man who knew he’d been born to privilege, and was going to exploit it.

“I volunteered,” Walker said calmly, blowing smoke across the office.

“Why the hell did you do that, man?” Thompson asked incredulously. “That woman is going straight to the noose! Amazed she escaped it before, killed her husband, apparently.”

“Because everyone deserves representation,” Walker maintained a calm exterior, but the grip on his cigarette tightened. “And I have a witness that says he was in there mutilating girls. It could have been self defense.”

“Witness! What witness?” Judge Thompson sneered. “Some whore? Who will believe her? Sir Thomas was a member of my golf club, for gods’ sake!”

“Then, are you sure you are the correct person to be trying the case, Judge?” Walker asked carefully.

“Don’t give me that bull, man!” Thompson snapped, waving his cigar ash over the desk in a flurry. “I can try a case based on the facts, it’s just that the facts scream guilty.”

Walker gritted his teeth and studied the judge.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Doesn’t exactly scream innocent to run away, does it?”

“Run away?” Walker repeated.

“Yes!” Thompson laughed. “That’s why I called you here, sorry, chap! Yes, your client has fled, with some boy. Last seen lurking at the train station. If she doesn’t report for court tomorrow, I’ll have no choice but to pass an automatic guilty verdict.”

“No choice?” Walker repeated. “Of course, that would wrap things up quickly.”

“No odds to me, man,” Thompson snorted. “Just thought I’d give you a chance to bring her in peacefully.”

“Right, yes, thank you.” Walker stood up. The long strip of ash that had been burning down his cigarette dropped onto his shoe. He shook it under the desk and left the butt in the judge’s ashtray. “I’ll see what I can do.” He left the office.

He knew this woman stood no chance in Judge Thompson’s court. He had already decided on her guilt.  The victim was most likely the slasher that the police had been half heartedly hunting for the last two years, but he was a member of the right golf club, so who cares? Walker strode towards the station. He knew the judge would have a man on him, and if he didn’t at least try to be seen to be seeking out his client, there would be consequences. Professional. He was already unpopular due to the anti-establishment cases he took pro-bono. The system was broken, and this was the only way he knew to fix it.  

It was dusk now, and as he left the dimly lit streets of Smoke for the station he lit another cigarette. The smoke was barely visible in the dusk, but the orange tip glowed brightly. Smoking calmed his nerves.  The station was deserted.

“Right, that’ll do, mate,” he turned to the judge’s man, who had been rather conspicuously tailing him. “Either walk next to me and have a chat, or go home, the creeping about in shadows is… well…”

The man was holding a walking cane, with a silver horse’s head as a handle. He raised it. “The judge wants you to let this one go,” he said as he brought it down hard.

Walker raised his arm to block the blow, and swore and the cane struck it.  The man swung again, but Walker rushed him, tackling him to the floor. The cane struck the ground as the two men tussled. Walker struck several blows, he had boxed at university, and although he was out of shape, he still knew how to land a punch. As they scrambled to their feet, Walker was on his toes, fists raised.

“Come on then, mate, let’s see how brave you are without your cane!”

“I’ll have you for assault!” The man responded. “They have just been waiting for an excuse to put you down.”

“Better make it worth it, then!” Walker responded with a series of blows to the face and torso.  The man reeled and turned, stumbling across the tracks to the other side, Walker in hot pursuit. He scrambled towards the scrubland on the other side and suddenly disappeared. “What the…” Walker looked around. There was nothing. He frowned. His face felt sore and a bruise on his cheek was starting to rise. Taking his cigarette case from his pocket he placed another between his lips and struck a match. The light of the flame revealed something shimmering in the dusk. He moved the match over it, studying the iridescent colours. He dropped it with a curse as it burnt down to his fingertips, only to see it disappear inside the portal. He struck a second match and picked up a rock, watching it disappear within the shiny prism of light.

“Well, I’ll be…” he said to himself, finally lighting his cigarette and rising from his crouching position. “The won’t find you there, will they?” he smiled to himself and patted his pocket before remembering and checking his wrist. The face of his watch was cracked. Time had stopped. Beyond the horizon he could see the streetlights of Smoke glowing. It was his city, and it was broken, but it could be fixed.  He walked slowly across the railway tracks and picked up the fallen cane. Like a javelin thrower he launched it at the area of the scrub where its owner had disappeared. It too vanished. Taking his cigarette from his mouth, he tapped the ash onto the ground. That was an interesting evening.

Find more stories by C H Clepitt here.

Share

Monday Mystery Mime

We are adding a new section to the Mystery Mime, to incorporate #MemeMonday. If you follow us on Facebook you will know we have been doing #MemeMonday for a while there, so we thought we’d start adding them here too. We might include the back catalogue at some point, but if you want to see them now, check out our #MemeMonday Board on Pinterest.

So, last week’s mime was a pen doing calligraphy. Yeah, exactly, why would you get that? The clue for this week’s is ‘autumnal activities’, like that’s gunna help. So, have a guess, stick it in the comments before Friday. We’ll announce the winners next week.

And our limerick meme this week is courtesy of Jane Jago. If you haven’t checked out her writing, you really should.

Share