Three years after OnSpec published my first story, I got my second one accepted. Alas, it will also be the last one. OnSpec, a staunch support and platform for Canadian SF authors, will launch its last issue, 134 this month.
Another sad news on the Canadian SF front, three weeks after learning of the demise of my first SF mentor Jean-Louis Trudel in Lithuania. I would not have become a writer if I hadn’t met him in Montréal, at a comic book launch at the defunct Nebula bookstore. I had always hesitated because I didn’t feel drawn to write “serious Litewrature“, me who had grown on Isaac Asimov and several fine SF writers (mostly Americans guys at the time, but the field have diversified since!) When Jean-Louis told me there was a very active French SF community in the Québec province, I jumped on that train faster than you could say “Ray gun” !!
Organizing a literary magazine is no piece of cake. The Ontarian literary mag, Virages, founded by Marguerite Andersen, ceased its activities after 75 issues. In OnSpec, I liked to read Barb’s and Diane’s editorials. As solitary writers, we need those voices and their reflexions. And Onspec stories were never too long or boring, presenting a full palette of subgenres from hard-SF to fantastic and horror, not forgetting Steampunk.
Thirty-five years of choosing stories, cover image, editing, writing the editorial, putting up the issue… this is an staggering sum of work.* A consistent body of evidence that went almost ignored my the general public… until CBC made a piece last November. Prodding that reaction: “I didn’t know you existed!”
Well, it happened for a ton of beautiful, valid works lost in the algorithmic maze of our profit-obsessed culture. Every week, I find out about that author, or this person that passed away.
A big, big thank you to Barb and Diane and the OnSpec team. I find myself very lucky to share space on Issue 134’s cover, along with several author friends.
In those difficult times, we need to rely on each other, to provide warmth, acceptance and friendship for those who feel rejected. Let us all lit up the night !
* I publish my own Échofictions books and thought I would be able to put up one new book per month, like my author friends Dean Wesley Smith. Hm nope. Life happened (and death, I lost my mother in 2023), and I am only coming back on the saddle. I put out three books in 2025, and the next year, 4-5 books will be my goal.
This distinctively Canadian hard-SF story has been published in ANALOG SF & Facts, vol XCIII, 5-6 (May-June 2023)
Kuiper Pancake
by Michèle Laframboise
The thick smell of maple syrup welled up in my olfactive memory when I rolled into the kilometer-wide depression under a bowl of clear, unblinking stars.
A long time ago when I still had legs under my body, I had tasted my grandmother’s warm pancakes, flat wheat flour disks covered with bubble cavities, looking like the face of the Moon. We didn’t get real, grown wheat flour often, maybe it had been contraband from northern Alberta, but wow! did it taste awesome with the reconstituted maple syrup! I called to mind the homey scents of the kitchen and the rumor of the city behind gran’s windows, the basil and spice and coffee (not for me, that), to help me face reality.
My gran’s kitchen was hundreds of millions klicks away now. Her smile had evaporated decades ago, the price every Scout or Explorer paid for getting an extended life span.
Here in the Kuiper belt, I didn’t possess any sense of smell, except in a very practical, this-could-save-your-life row of chemical gas samplers, apt at identifying the spicy sting of toxic compounds that could eat my hull and nibble at the precious wetware inside. Mechanical vibrations were similarly filtered and transcribed into sounds, along with the IA voice of the Explorer talking to me.
My current body had grounded to a stop, a six-wheel tank spiked with sensors and samplers, its huge swiveling head crowned with an array of cams and antennas and teacup radio-receptors.
Presently, that huge swiveling head was stuck in the throes of indecision, like a teenager.
Can a bankrupt resort owner find a new hope on a ski slope? A ballerina escapes the Iron Curtain, but can’t forget her ghosts as she prepares a Nutcracker performance in Toronto. In the same city, a radiohost’s voice raises the spirits of a depressed musician. See a weary, guilt-ridden mother find her lucky star in Hawaii. And a sad, dispirited stunt woman meets two special persons on Christmas Eve !
Five women, each overcoming her own challenges, are about to discover a holiday magic that opens the hearts!
Five tales to take a respite from harsh times and share with your loved ones, told by award-winning author Michèle Laframboise.
CW: the opening of the second story contains some threat of violence, but the characters manage to escape. Fifth story has a character mired in a muddy relation but she regains her freedom.
The screen in vivid green that greets us. I love the little Africa-shaped pendant!
That Wednesday should have been an ordinary middle-of-the-week day. Except for those two words uttered by my morning radio program host: Jane Goodall. Plus: Toronto this evening.
I stopped everything I was doing to get the venue. Jane Goodall was coming to Toronto.
For someone like me who have been fascinated with ants and nature since a toddler, who could be found at the crown of any tree, who still goes out with a pair of binocular to watch the skies, Jane Goodall, who started her magnificent, long-standing work studying chimpanzees the year of my birth, and this, without a diploma, is a heroine.
So what if the transit from my place to the Meridian Hall took more than two hours and a half? I bought one ticket and off I went, in the middle of the afternoon, to see a legend. Getting there was a bliss, apart for the hurdle of eating something, anything, before the speech. The Meridian Hall offered drinks and food, but I didn’t know it and lost stomach-grumbling time at a café, before deciding to use some plastic for a hearty beverage.
Somehow, I had bought a seat very well located. I sat in an ambiance filled with the quiet sound of a distant jungle.
The introduction is done by five young people of the Foundation, which count a Canadian branch. Because, this is not only about African countries, but everywhere. If you do not respect the first Nations who took care of the land, you can’t heal the same land.
That is the lynch point of the Institute : you can’t protect the environment while ignoring the needs of the people residing on the earth. You can’t come to a village where the children are hungry and tell them what to do. All projects of Jane Goodall Institute involves the people living on the territory.
When we put local communities at the heart of conservation, we improve the lives of people, animals and the environment.
Jane as a storyteller
Jane, was finally introduced in a thunder of applause. At 91 years-young, she walks without aid and talks with enthusiasm. Jane Goodall gave an electifying, uplifting speech in Toronto.
She regaled us with anecdotes from her childhood in Britain, of growing up in WWII with rations, reminding us that TV had not been invented at the time. Her mother and aunts were very liberal, letting the little girl roam, and not calling the police when little Jane disappeared for four hours, finally emerging from the coop because she wanted to see how the hens could produce their big eggs!
(I did disappeared once. I had been playing with a friend in the parc, and she had invited me at her home to play, and I ended up staying for supper. On my return to our apartment block, I found two police cars and my mother frantically gesturing. Did I warn her ? Oops.)
Nature fascinated the little Jane, and she knew she wanted to be near animals. At ten, she was a ravenous reader, and one day, she found a novel that embodied all the adventure she dreamed of. Tarzan of the Apes. She fell in love with the “Lord of the Jungle” until…
“He wedded the WRONG JANE!” she said, sending all of us roaring with laughter.
At a point, she was invited by a relation to Africa, and worked as a waitress to save for the boat ticket (there were planes, but too expensive and rare.) And finally, she got her first contact with Africa, South Africa to be precise.
She returned home, eager to get a job close to the animals, but without a diploma? Eventually Louis Leakey invited her to assist as a secretary. And she got introduced to scorpions, snakes, baboons and,… an ambling rhinoceros! On those occasions, she managed to stay calm, that prodded Leakey to assign her to observing the chimpanzees. Without a diploma.
But here was a problem, In 1960, letting a young woman alone in the jungle (even with a crew) was a no-no. So, who came to chaperone Jane?
Her MOM! Yup, she stayed as long as necessary, even if the elder Goodall did not care for the scorpions, snakes and various samples of the local fauna. But she managed to write (she was a novelist) and even opened a small clinic to dispense very basic band-aid care.
And so, her marvelous work started to gain attention with the National Geographic endorsement that came on… July 14th, 1960. Ahem.
Keeping Hope
Jane is not blind to the current world state, and she mentioned the war and genocide occurring in Ukraine, Soudan and Gaza. His interviewer, radio host Georges Stroumboulopoulos, tells her: You’re not afraid to say that? And she replied: I don’t care (who is offended.)
I didn’t know, but Jane, who was vegetarian for a long time, has become vegan since a few years, like Georges is. She showed us plush animals, a chimpanzee, an octopus, a pork, a jungle rat, each having intelligence and capacities. Farm animals are sentient, and often sapient, too. We can act, in things as small as consuming a plant-based diet, better for the animals and the planet.
How can you stay so hopeful when the world is burning? (Nor exactly that phrasing). Jane gives us the reasons;
First, the younger generation is growing up and resilient. Second, the human indomitable spirit and our intellect that can find solutions to problems.
Photo from my seat. Georges Stroumboulopoulos, Jane Goodall, and the head of the Institute in Canada.
And she added uplifting examples of hope: of children planting trees in war-torn countries, of the Gombe forest (in Tanzania) that had almost disappeared due to over cut in the 1980s, and that grew back on the hills. Roots & Shoots is a global youth leadership program that exists in more than 140 countries. Through Roots & Shoots, participants identify and address problems in their communities.
Helping people to improve their lives also helps the nature around. And do not stop acting to the best of your knowledge, to help people, the environment and the animals. Even in small things.
I left the Meridian Hall in a happy mood. It was worth the five hours total of public transit.
To discover more about the Jane Goodall Institute, go here. And for more words of hope, go below!
Asimov’s SF Magazine just published In the Gardener’s Service, a fun SF caper novelette, that readers will enjoy more than does the main character !
Those of you new to my Gardeners’ universe will get to know better Emperor Pallan’s special agent, who really, really! doesn’t like to dunk his high-maintenance braids while in a mission.
My name is not featured on the cover this time, but I have prestigious cover neighbours like Suzanne Palmer, Derek Kunsken and Rich Larson. Stephen Reid has a story in there also, the kind of hard & fun SF I enjoy.
Maison de la Presse – Place Ville Marie, 1 place Ville-Marie, Montréal QC H3B 3Y1 —Get there Gateway Newstands – 300-1, Place Ville-Marie, Montréal QC H3B 4R8 – Get there Maison De La Presse Internationale 4261, rue Saint-Denis, Montréal QC H2J 2K9 — Get there
At certain times, science-fiction and gardening afficionados do mix!
I had a wonderful weekend meeting new readers at the Blooming Boulevard annual native plant sale. Here’s my table by Sunday. My Gardeners’ civilization SF graphic novels were a hit, as were my birdwatching stories!
How this non-literary event came to be ?
Two years ago, I was impressed by a neighbour’s indigenous plants garden, set in the grassy band between the sidewalk and the street. As a staunch environmentalist, I was considering doing the same with my own curb band. But, book fairs and deadlines loomed, and I missed the opportunity.
According to the Blooming Boulevards web page:
We are a group of civic-minded Mississauga residents who love gardening and want to do what we can to help the environment and promote community well-being. We became a not-for-profit Ontario corporation, a Mississauga community organization, and developed the mission and goals of Blooming Boulevards in early 2019.
It took me two summers to gather the courage and contact the founders. And then, everything went fast, as Jeanne and Wayne came to see my modest space, and drew up a plan for indigenous plants, and gathered the forms to get an “encroachment” permit from the City. This was at the end of April.
This as how the space looked before I took out the grass. There were steps well explained before planting.
Before…And after! The completed garden.
Now, I must be patient to allow those plants work on their roots before investing in foliage and flowers. Stay tuned for next year!
How my signing table planted itself there?
When the nice Blooming Boulevards people learned I was a writer, and when they saw my Gardeners’ Universe graphic novels, they invited me to sit at their annual plant sale!
The plant sale. My table was to the right of those chairs
And, ooh , that went so incredibly well!
The signing table on Saturday, a little cramped, but they put my publishing company sign up!
I did not have any expectation beside talking to gardeners who are better at their hobbies than I am. In most literary events, I am used to people ignoring my table.
Not here.
Visitors were intrigued and many stopped by (if their arms were not loaded with seed boxes!) And some gardeners were also science fiction readers, so I gained new fans! Two people even went back on Sunday to get my books signed!
One colour pencils signing of Mistress of the Winds, available in electronic format here along with my other books.
It is very rare that half the books I bring at any event fly out, but it happened here.
The advantages of an in-person, non-lit event
My esteemed colleague writer and indie publisher Mark Leslie Lefebvre regularly attends non-lit events in his home area, and I can now confirm that it is worth my time.
Rose du désert, my YA SF novel, is finalist at the 2025 Trillium Awards! The intrigue is set on the same world and starts some time after the events in LeSecret de Paloma. It features an autistic spectrum heroine with a pessimistic temper, an attitude illustrated on the cover.
The awards will be given soon,on June 18th in the Toronto Reference Library, at the Bram and BlumaAppel Salon.
Whether my book places or not, it is a wondrous occasion to meet fine Ontario Writers like in 2013 (article on my French blog). Meeting Gil Adamson, author of The Outlander (2007), Ridgerunner (2020) and other books, was my favorite award!
Meeting Gil Adamson in 2013!
Meanwhile…
Another Gardeners’ Universe story is coming in the July-August 2025 issue of Asimov’s. It will be my seventh publication in this magazine.
The July/August 2025 issue will hit the newsstands on June 8, 2025, with my novelette In the gardener’s Services, set in my SF universe. That story will explore the past of one of my favorite characters in the YA series La Quête de Chaaas.
You can also subscribe to Asimov’s Science Fiction inprintor in various digital formats.
On the last day of March, Nancy Kilpatrick passed away, taken by cancer. I learned it on April first through social medias, and for once, with one day delay, instead of a week after the fact.
Nancy Kilpatrick, a talented colleague, wrote vampiric horror stories. It was not my usual reading, but I received her monthly letter. She always had interesting historical anecdotes about the times of the year (like the Ides of March). I tasted her unique author voice with the first book of the Thrones of Bloodseries Revenge of the Vampir King (very, ahem, “adult” horror, you’re warned.)
I met her for the first time at a Word on the Street table in Toronto B.C. (before Covid, in 2019). She shared a table with Caro Soles (author of the Merculian SF series, first novel Danger Dance.) When Nancy moved in Montréal, I had a few email exchanges later. In the isolation of the first Covid winter, she lived through several annoyances like fridge problems, mobility issues… Fortunately, she could get a little help from friends there.
Nancy Kilpatrick, pic from her WordPress blog, unknown credits.
So, at the end of March, her pen fell away.
No more meeting in events. No more emails. She was not the eldest among my colleagues, but nevertheless, it hurts. As one crossing to the older side of the river, as a SF and (sometimes!) horror writer, I have a keen awareness of the ineluctable flow of time. Impossible to ignore the tic-tic, of the great horloge.
Nancy didn’t to my limited knowledge, talked about her health, but she stopped sending her newsletter in June 2024. In the last one, she wrote: For a variety of reasons, I will not be sending a Newsletter out monthly. I will send a more irregular Newsletter out when I have anything new to say or to promote something that you might find of interest.
A long time ago when I was younger and starting in the field, I thought, a bit naively, that horror writers were devoid of empathy. Oh was I wrong! You can measure the degree of empathy, humanity and maturity in Nancy Kilpatrick by reading her blog entry in 2020, where she shared the sadness of losing her best friend.
At least, Nancy Kilpatrick leaves us her stories behind. Her translated books are available in French at the publishing house ALIRE.
May she fly over the oceans, under a full moon.
A word for you, visitor, fan or colleague
I share this loss because I want to remind you that you, fans and friends, do count in my eyes, even if I do not talk or wrote often to you. I do appreciate the emails you send (fortunately I don’t have thousands of fans, I can read and answer!) And I am happy to meet you in person at the various events, like theSalon du livre du Grand Sudbury (Sudbury Book Fair. May 8-11th), and the next Scintillation 6 in Montréal (June 6-8th).
To you, visitor, thank you for reading. If this post touches you, please, do something in Nancy’s memory: phone or visit a person that you have not seen in a long time.
Send that person an email or a paper letter, like a flower. In a world where empathy is decried by the powerful, your small gesture will warm a few hearts.
Pic by Pixabay, but one of my neighbours has a bush of those marvelous yellow roses…
Looking back, here are my contributions to the larger field of SF in 2024. Several short-stories, one graphic novel, one novella, and the links to the publishers.
My formidable SF writer colleague Nina Monteanu has penned this very well-researched article (link below), something I wished I had done more often, about the 60-years cover-up of the deleterious effects on human health of the Dupont-produced PFOAs. PFOAS were present in the non-stick “teflon” pans, but also, alas, contaminated the employees in their assembly lines, and leaked into municipal waters…
WARNING: It is a chilling reading, but necessary. Because I did innocently use PFOAs each time I cooked with my 25-year old non-stick pan. Needless to say I promptly discarded it.
Most companies have changed the recipe, but there no guarantees the “new” improved replacement products will be harmless! So, stick to stainless steel and cast iron pans (that can last for generations). Or ceramics interiors.
And of course we do wear microplastics everywhere. Our fossil-sourced clothes are leaching micropollutants in the water at each wash. That’s another compounded problem.