So I wrote some near future science fiction and then the near future got nearer, and nearer, lurking through the kitchen on sickle claws, and now it’s looming over us like a monstrous anachronism with dripping fangs and all I have is this little book about trees and tentacle robots, and you know what’s so wild? Is how many people who gave me feedback on these stories told me that the future I invented was “grim” and “bleak” when I thought it was optimistic???? And I’m over here now cringing at how painfully, unrealistically hopeful some of it seems. Publishing takes a long time. There’s still room for the future I made up in The Wildcraft Drones, but the gaps feel noticeable already and the book isn’t even out until May. My publisher tells me we need optimistic visions of the future more than ever. She’s been right about everything else so far, so I have to believe her. I know I need them, and I’m glad I wrote this one when I did, because the stuff I’m writing now is very different. There’s still hope in my new stuff, I can’t write anything but hope, writing itself is hope, but it hurts more.

Book tour

Hope is building things. Community especially. So some of the hardest (for me) but most worthwhile endeavors on my plate this year are not writing, but events. I’ve been planning a small book tour but also it’s an excuse to get out of my routine and see friends. I have a full (growing) event list on my website, and I’ll share them here too as they come up. Big ones confirmed so far include Bay Area Book Fest, WorldCon, the Nebulas, and World Fantasy Con.

Stir: Rainy Season — January 22 in San Francisco

The next event on my schedule isn’t about me or my book, it’s Stir, the seasonal reading series I co-host in San Francisco, on January 22. It’s the third one we’ve done, and I’m thrilled to bring together four fantastic authors: Mukethe Kawinzi, Sam J. Miller, Jason Bayani and Annalee Newitz. Sam is joining us all the way from New York, and he’s one of my favorite authors of all time, and I can’t wait to see him. Mukethe makes me laugh every time I’m in the same space as her and I know she’s going to give our audience something special. Jason is a regular at the cafe I work at, and this will be the first time I’ve heard him read, but I’ve overheard strangers raving about his poetry, so I’m really excited. And Annalee is a fucking legend, who I’ve admired since my first ridiculous career, actual decades ago. I’m so honored that they all said yes to make this little event on Folsom Corridor a thing. If you’re in the Bay Area, I hope you can make it.

Help for a friend

My friend Raul Sanchez, the guy at Cafe Suspiro who makes the reading series possible, had a stroke right before the holidays. He’s expecting a full recovery this year, but the medical debt is real and the cafe is tiny and really needs him there, so we started a gofundme for him to help with his bills and keep the cafe afloat until he’s back on his feet. If you can help out, that would be incredible. He’s a much better person than me and I need him to be okay.

Recommended read: Microfiction by Jenny Williams

My friend Jenny took up a microfiction habit a few months ago and now every time I see one of her little gems in my inbox I get excited. As someone who really fucking hates email, this is huge. Jenny’s microfiction is wonderfully thought-provoking and goes down easy and makes me feel things. Her and I have a shared love of the environment and a shared trauma of content strategy careers, and I just love the way she gets to truth by bending reality. If you hate emails even more than me, at least go pick one from her archives to read right now. They’re very short.

I think I’m going to start ending these with a photo from my archives. I love nature photography and I can never justify finding the time for it anymore but I have thousands and thousands of photos from times when I did so why not share them? Here’s a dreamy shot of Ocean Beach in San Francisco from that day in 2018 when I remembered that my camera had a double exposure setting. I should remember that again soon.

Keep it real —

T. K.