Q&A with the Editors of Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation

“We dug deep and pushed seeds / from locked away vaults / into the earth so gentle we pushed / and we wondered if the past / could be reborn.”
~ from “Fairy Tales & Other Species of Life” (Chloe N. Clark)
in Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation


When I met my husband, we got to know each other by talking about all the plays and musicals we acted in during high school (Him: Guys and Dolls. Me: Li’l Abner. Him: Oliver. Me: Greater Tuna). We had a lot in common, until later when we talked books. He asked if I’d ever read Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I said no. He balked, I shrugged. We still got married.

brightly colored cover image for Sunvault

I didn’t read science fiction then, and I don’t read much now. But when I heard about Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation (Upper Rubber Boot Books, 2017), I was intrigued, especially with the subtitle.

I’ve enjoyed speculative fiction over the years (Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, Hillary Jordan’s When She Woke), and I know of the word STEAMpunk (though I can only envision what it looks like, not how it reads). How “solar” and “eco” fit into the mix, I wasn’t sure. At first glance of Sunvault’s cover, though, I was ready to dive into the pages. The Editors’ Note, then, ensured I knew what to expect:

Often [in Science Fiction], the environment was an antagonist, already destroyed to the point of no return, or simply not a consideration. . . . [Solarpunk] emphasizes innovative interaction with both our communities and our environment; socio-environmental thought and creation, rather than merely survival in a decaying world….

These days, a positive focus on the connection between human and environment is worth investigating. Sure the stories may be fiction, the art futuristic, but as Donald Maass says in The Emotional Craft of Fiction, “the purpose of stories is not only to change characters, but also to point the way to a change in us all.”

Meaning, a story imagined is still built on some thread of truth; we should pay attention.

The stories, poems, and art in Sunvault look to a future when humans cooperate with the natural world rather than use and abuse it, and the book as a whole paves way for discussion of such possibilities. In today’s Q&A with Editors Phoebe Wagner and Brontë Christopher Wieland, we learn more about the genre, the stories, and the aspirations behind the collection. Plus, there’s a giveaway: you just might win a copy of Sunvault, with its cool cover and wonderful works! CLICK HERE to enter the giveaway (deadline: Aug. 29th).

Now welcome Editors Phoebe and Brontë!

Christi Craig (CC): There’s plenty to love about Sunvault, from the introductory notes on the genre of Solarpunk (for new readers like me) to the stories and poems (of course!). But what struck me immediately when I cracked open the pages was the list of contributors–such diversity! Writers of color, international authors, an excellent balance of men and women. Can you tell us a little about how this project began and one of the keys to reaching such a wide range of writers and artists?

Phoebe Wagner (PW): When Brontë and I met in fall of 2015 in Iowa, we bonded over our love of speculative fiction—we were the only two fiction writers dedicated to the genre in our year. Especially in 2015, the speculative trend involved a lot of negativity and dystopian settings, which, don’t get me wrong, I love a good dystopian romp, but I was tired of feeling hopeless. I love happy endings, and I grew up on positive stories like The Lord of the Rings and A Wrinkle in Time. Brontë and I had been tossing around the idea of editing an anthology together (because graduate students have loads of downtime), when I came across a post by Kdhume on Tumblr about solarpunk. The –punk genres have always inspired me, and this new –punk genre with a focus on environment, socio-environmental issues, community, and positivity seemed like something I wanted to be a part of.

As for the diversity, we are both passionate about seeing diversity in publishing, particularly in our home genre of SF. To that end, we commissioned work which helped set the atmosphere when submissions opened. Solarpunk naturally attracts a diverse audience since the genre is dedicated to diverse communities, and we wanted to honor that. Consider that the first true solarpunk anthology was published in Portuguese in 2012 (though World Weaver Press is working on translating it!). This movement is global.

Brontë Christopher Wieland (BW): From the beginning, we knew we wanted this anthology to represent as many perspectives, places, genders, and groups of people as possible, so we made sure to reach out to various communities and ask explicitly to see work from them. In our call for submissions, we encouraged writers from marginalized and underrepresented communities to submit. We also worked hard to spread our message widely on social media, especially Twitter where there’s a thriving and beautiful community of SF writers.

Cropped version of Carlin Reynolds' drawingCC: Speaking of artists, I’ve been studying the artwork you include (Carlin Reynolds’ “Radio Silence” [see cropped image to right] is one of my favorites). The pieces appear to be drawings in pencil or ink, a simplicity in the choice of medium that matches many of the stories as they focus on new beginnings and a back-to-basics kind of living. The images themselves, though, are all but simple; full of intricate detail, they each warrant thoughtful discussion on their own. In your original call for artwork, did you aim for a certain style? Or, what did you hope to receive?

PW: “Radio Silence” was a perfect submission since it fit so well with Iona Sharma’s “Eight Cities.” Solarpunk does have roots in art nouveau style, which we mentioned, but more broadly, we wanted to see how artists interrupted the ideas of solarpunk. Since we were limited in the types of images we could print (mainly black and white), we pitched the idea of the art being like coloring book pages, so each reader could, if desired, personalize Sunvault.

BW: Mostly, I think we hoped to see what images solarpunk conjured in artists without our stylistic input. We wanted to see how many interpretations of the ideas we described were out there, and we found some really beautiful work!

CC: Kristine Ong Muslim’s “Boltzmann Brain” is a powerful piece of flash, depicting one after another of ecological disaster but maintaining a sense of optimism to the end. I love, too, how each new section opens with “We hope you are out there, and you are reading this message.” What do you hope readers will take away from this collection?

PW: I hope readers feel encouraged to become engaged, that it isn’t hopeless. We have a hard road ahead when it comes to climate change and social justice. This summer has seen America pull out of the Paris Climate Agreement, and I’m still sick over the domestic terrorism in Charlottesville. It does not feel like a hopeful time. I hope the stories, poems, and art in Sunvault will encourage small and large actions, encourage resistance, and bring joy. It’s hard not to smile when I look at Likhain’s bright cover.

BW: Hope, courage, inspiration, and new ways of thinking about how we approach our world, especially in terms of physical and social environments. Much of the work in Sunvault revolves around fighting for a better, more just world, and that message is even more valuable now than it was when we started work on the book.

CC: What did you love most about editing this collection as a team?

PW: First off, it was just plain old fun. While I love working with Brontë in general, having someone with different interests, experiences, strengths was vital. It was nice to tag team with him, too, since grad school has a tendency to dictate when you can do stuff. If one of us had a stack of papers that needed to be graded, the other could shoulder more work.

BW: Having a separate perspective on each piece illuminated my own thoughts about each submission. There were times that Phoebe saw value in a piece that hadn’t initially grabbed me (and vice versa), and it always lead to lively discussion and important time spent rereading stories and expanding my idea of what the book would be. Sunvault would look so much different if either of us had done it alone, and it’s much, much better because we worked together.

CC: Now that your editing work on Sunvault is done, what are you reading these days?

PW: I finished The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin and it blew my mind. While not exactly solarpunk, there are a lot of similar themes. I’ve also been on a YA reading streak these days and loved Daniel Jose Older’s Shadowshaper.

BW: As always, I haven’t been reading as much or as widely as I’d like to be. Recently I’ve been diving deeply into Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz’s An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States, both of which I’m using to shape my teaching for the upcoming semester. I also just finished Wizard of the Crow by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o and When the Ground Turns in Its Sleep by Sylvia Sellers-García.

Phoebe Wagner grew up in Pennsylvania, the third generation to live in the Susquehanna River Valley. She spent her days among the endless hills pretending to be an elf, and, eventually, earned a B.A. in English: Creative Writing from Lycoming College. She is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University. Follow her on Twitter: @pheebs_w.

Brontë Christopher Wieland is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University where he thinks about how language, culture, and storytelling shape the world around us. In 2014, he earned his Bachelor’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison in Mathematics and Lingustics. His fiction has appeared in Flash Fiction Online and Hypertext Magazine. Follow him on Twitter: @BeezyAl.

REMEMBER: Enter the giveaway for a chance to win a copy of Sunvault!

Remington Roundup: #Listening, #Reading, & #Writing

1960's photo of woman at Remington typewriterTwo steps into August, and it’s past time for a summer edition of the Remington Roundup. Here’s your links to a cool new podcast for story lovers, a how-to book for story composers, and an end-of-summer in-person workshop for story explorers. 

Listening, Reading, & Writing, oh my!


#Listening

I’m not an avid podcast listener, but there are a few that I bookmark for days when I’m heavy into housecleaning or deep into dinner fixings or just on the road. New Yorker Fiction is a go-to standard, but a new one on the horizon is quickly making its way to the top of my list: LeVar Burton Reads. 

You know him from the Reading Rainbow, where he read children’s books aloud. Now, you can listen to him read and discuss short stories by authors whose names you’ll recognize and some you may not. Every episode I’ve listened to so far is not only entertaining but thought-provoking. Especially when the story breaks out into profanity and the radio volume is up and the kids are in the back seat and Hey, Ho! Thought for the day: how do you pause a podcast with two hands on the wheel and your iPhone more than an arm’s length away…. Whoops. Welcome to literary fiction, kids. Words are power; they pack a punch.


#Reading

Early in the summer when I was supposed to be downsizing my book collection, I stocked up on several new ones–some fiction, some non, and several craft books. Then, I took off for camping and road trips and on and on and on. Now, it’s time to dive into those books–especially the ones that will strengthen my writing, so I’ve set a personal goal to read one craft book a month. As I tend to be a slow reader, this could turn into one craft book every two months, but the point is: let’s get back to the nuts and bolts. I can always learn more.

This month, I’m cracking the cover of Donald Maass’ The Emotional Craft of Fiction: How to Write the Story Beneath the Surface (Writer’s Digest Books, 2016). This books dips into the reader’s and the writer’s emotional journey, how to weave inner and outer conflicts, identifying moral stakes (and more). Inside the pages are plenty of examples, as well as questions with which to approach your own work…plenty to get you thinking and writing. Or rewriting.

And, if you’re in New York City on August 17th for the Writer’s Digest Annual Conference, you can register for the one-day workshop with Donald Maass himself, on this very subject!


#Writing

Speaking of the nuts and bolts of craft, I’m offering an in-person workshop this month for writers called Exploring Story through Art, Theater, and Writing.

Inspiration Studios, the creative space that houses my writing studio, is running an art exhibit this month in conjunction with a play, both of which focus on the idea of every day people, their stories, and the way those stories connect us, influence, and inspire us. My writing course is designed to explore the importance of story by examining three different mediums of creativity: art, theater, and pen on paper.

With your registration, you’ll have access to the art exhibit, a reduced-fee ticket to the play, and three hours of workshop on creativity and story. You’ll leave the course with a wider perspective on the way creative expression enhances our stories, as well as with the beginning of a personal essay in hand and resources for fine-tuning that early draft into one that is publication-ready.

Click HERE to learn more or to sign up! The fee is $95, deadline to register is August 13th, and seats are limited.


What’s in your roundup of writing and reading these days?

Writing Fiction with Help from Picasso

cover image for Death in Cold WaterToday’s guest post is written by Patricia Skalka (@PatriciaSkalka). She is the author of the Dave Cubiak Door County Mysteries, with the third book of the series, Death in Cold Water, now on shelves. In her post, Skalka reveals how stepping away from her pen and into the world of art changed her perspective on the way she approached her writing.


I’d been a professional nonfiction writer for more than twenty years when I decided to make the jump to fiction. Specifically, I wanted to write mysteries – stories based on both character and plot. Those were the types of books I most enjoyed reading and felt most drawn to writing. I had plenty of ideas and the confidence that comes from two decades of making my living with words.

So, I started. And failed. The first draft of my first mystery was a dud. The second was not much better. I kept reading, revising, and chipping away. I was determined to do this but each faltering step drained away some of my self-assurance.

The problem lay with my perception of the novelist. As a nonfiction writer, I worked for national magazines like the Reader’s Digest and Ladies Home Journal, and was intimately familiar with the work involved in crafting a piece for publication. First came the idea, followed by the gathering of material through research and interview, then organizing the material and writing a first draft and, finally, the revising. Intellectually, I understood that the same basic process applied to fiction. But on an emotional level I had a very different concept, and therein lay my problem.

Deep in my psyche, I embraced the notion that fiction writers were born to the story. In this fantasy, I envisioned the novelist as one who woke with the idea in full blossom and who proceeded to write a captivating novel with almost effortless ease.  The fact that I had to work – and work hard – at the process sent an unconscious message that I wasn’t and never could be a novelist and that, despite my attempts, I was just fooling myself.

I was at one of my lowest points, when I traveled to Europe to visit my daughter during her study-aboard semester in Spain. On a sun-drenched autumn afternoon in Barcelona, I walked down the famous La Rambla to the Museu Picasso in the Old Town area. I went to see his art, never realizing that the hours I would spend there would save my fiction-writing career.

photo of Chicago Picasso sculpture
The Chicago Picasso. Photo credit: tacvbo via Visualhunt / CC BY-SA

Among the more than 4,000 works on display were the table-top models and rough sketches that Picasso had made of the iconic untitled sculpture that would eventually be installed in downtown Chicago. I lived in the city and was familiar with the massive, 50-foot tall steel structure. But in Barcelona, I came face-to-face with the many versions that Picasso had to work through before he arrived at the final design.

There were so many, and as I took them in, the truth dawned. I was looking at an example of a world famous artist going through a struggle and process similar to mine. Picasso didn’t wake up one morning with a vision of the finished sculpture in mind. He started with an idea and then for some two years he nurtured it through a long string of evolutionary and developmental steps until he reached his goal.

If Picasso had to work at creating his art, then why shouldn’t I have to work at writing my novels?

The point seems obvious, but to me it was a revelation. I walked out of the museum almost giddy. My attitude and approach were transformed. I could do this.

pencil and pencil shavingsBack home, I embraced my work with new enthusiasm and understanding.  Failure was not a defeat but a learning process. Ideas were seeds waiting to be cultivated, nourished, and tended. Change was good. Revision was an elemental part of the process.  If a plot line didn’t pan out, it wasn’t a disaster but an opportunity to figure out how to make it better.

Eventually, I learned two more important lessons. The first was discovering that I couldn’t write blind. I couldn’t take an idea and write by the seat of my pants. I needed to understand the entire story first. This meant plotting it out step by step before I began to write.

The second was learning to be comfortable writing at my own pace, and learning that the pace would vary. On some days it meant a thousand words and on some it meant five hundred.  I congratulate those who are able to do more but no longer let myself be intimidated by their output or feel that I have to match their pace.

Writing is a very intense and personal experience.  The only way to make it genuine is to believe in yourself, to go through the trial and error process of finding what works for you, and then to be true to yourself.

I made the trip to Barcelona ten years ago. Since then, I’ve published the first three books in the Dave Cubiak Door County Mystery series and am well into the fourth. All I can say is, Thank you, Picasso!

~

photo of Patricia Skalka
Photo by B.E. Pinkham

Patricia Skalka is the author of Death Stalks Door County, Death at Gills Rock, and Death in Cold Water, the first three books in the popular Dave Cubiak Door County Mystery series. Skalka, a Chicago writer, turned to fiction following a successful career in nonfiction. Her many credits include: Staff Writer for Reader’s Digest, freelancer, ghost writer, writing instructor and book reviewer.

Read more about the series and Door County HERE. Purchase a copy of Death in Cold Water HERE.