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Robert S. Wilson: The Big, Bright Belly of God

9/26/2014

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Today, I have the pleasure of hosting author Robert S. Wilson, an exceptionally talented writer whose work is every bit as philosophical and literary as it is dark and horrific. I haven't read a story of his I didn't like, and I'm excited to share that he has some new and re-releases to promote. In his short essay, "The Big, Bright Belly of God," he tackles a subject I've struggled with for some time, and does so elegantly.

Robert S. Wilson is also giving away all sorts of prizes, so make sure to check out the links at the bottom of this post. With that, I hand over the page....

Robert S. Wilson: The Big, Bright Belly of God


The name of this post was taken from a story I wrote called The Death Catcher. I'm sure you can guess what The Death Catcher is about… If not, I'll give you a hint. What has no life and is dead all over? If you guessed death, you win a prize!*

Death is inevitable.

We all know this and yet, we all try our best to forget it most all of the time. Writers—particularly dark fiction writers—could probably be said to dwell on the subject to a rather unhealthy degree. Like it or not, regardless of what you believe or disbelieve or what may or may not come after it, death is the single most profound subject of life. And I mean no irony in saying so. For every second we're alive nothing is more mysterious, unnerving, unstoppable, or compellingly disturbing than the feeling of knowing you came to exist, you now live, and that ultimately some day, preferably peacefully and painlessly, but more likely terribly and excruciatingly, it will all come to an end.

Blinked out… never to return. (Unless you believe in reincarnation…)

But what, I think, makes death even more unnerving, even more disturbing, and makes us feel even more helpless in the face of it, is the fact that it is not just a lonely fate meant for ourselves alone. I know that I alone will not die; that not only will my elders and my peers and my brother and my sister and my wife die, but my children too will die some day. And that knowledge further complicates the element of immense fear—the tragedy—of death to its utter pinnacle.

And nothing can truly be understood about death without knowing real, desperate, incalculable and emotional loss. The realization that some amazing person who in some way or many ways brightened up your life is now gone from the only life we can truly without question claim to know.

I say that nothing can truly be understood about death without knowing loss because how can anyone understand anything without knowing the true depth of its effects to those in its epicenter? When I was about eight years old or so my aunt on my father's side passed away. I loved my Aunt Betty, but I barely really knew her. I thought from then on that I knew what loss was. In reality, my Aunt Betty loved to lavish me with toys and other gifts when I would come to visit her and therein lay the foundation of our relationship. She loved to buy me stuff and as a young child who barely understood real familial relationships, I loved to receive things.


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True loss requires more connection than this. I know because I learned that the hard way in 2006 when my mother passed away. My mother, who at the time was probably one of the two people in the world I was closest to. 

But true loss and the horrible twisting disturbing bite of it can have other faces. Earlier this year I lost an old friend of mine. We weren't inseparable, we didn't talk on the phone often. We spoke every now and then online, and there was a time when we did spend time together often more than ten years ago. We were both musicians who wrote some music together and had a strong similar passion for writing and performing music. 

We had talked throughout the years of getting together some day and writing something new some day, but that day never came and now it never will. And even though I was much closer to my mother, this sort of loss was just as painful if not more so in some ways. This was someone young, younger than me, someone with big, big unfinished dreams, who had been actively fighting to make them come true and in the blink of an eye he was gone. 

Someone so full of life, so fiercely unafraid to live, and such a beautiful artist in so many ways.

The beauty of his music, the unfinished plans, the feeling of letting my friend down, and even more so the realization that in a lot of ways I am completely and utterly responsible for taking this person for granted and now I can never take that back. These are some of the things that made his loss, for a time, so completely and life derailingly unbearable. But the worst part of it and what twinged his loss with such a huge sense of utter morbid hatred and bitterness is how my friend died.

He was murdered. In cold blood. For twenty dollars and his Jeep. The Jeep having been left abandoned the next day.

We live in a vast universe, so vast, our minds can't even begin to understand the scope of even a condensed and scaled-down version of it. A vast glorious universe that could very well be one pinprick in a cloud of infinite others. A universe filled with wonders that span billions of years and light years of majestic forces and creations: galaxies, stars, planets, lives of countless variations; from the glimmer of sunlight on a drop of morning dew to the pitch black debris between the stars of the Milky Way. 

And yet… we are tiny, insignificant little creatures sprung up from the waters, climbed down from the trees, having evolved from numerous ancestors before us into something that can, after billions of silent, mindless years of clockwork-movement and fight-or-flight, kill-or-be-killed natural selection, look out at the vastness and unending beauty of existence and know that what we're seeing is but a snapshot. A glimpse of something so complex and so beautifully awe-inspiring, and yet we could never truly behold such a thing in all of its true glory and elegance because our minds are yet still unable to fathom even the tiniest working parts of such a thing.

And knowing this, nothing becomes more clear—more sobering—nothing fills up the heart with more emptiness—than the realization of just how deeply unfair death is.


*Actually, you won nothing. Such is life. Get used to it. Because when it's over…

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Robert S. Wilson is the author of Shining in Crimson and Fading in Darkness, books one and two of his dystopian vampire series: Empire of Blood. He is the Bram Stoker Award-nominated editor of Blood Type: An Anthology of Vampire SF on the Cutting Edge, a co-editor of Horror for Good: A Charitable Anthology and Nightscapes: Volume 1, and lives in Middle Tennessee with his family and a silly obnoxious dog. His short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, online, and paper publications, and his cyberpunk/horror novella Exit Reality was chosen as one of e-thriller.com’s Thrillers of the Month in July 2013.

His debut fiction collection Where All Light is Left to Die was just released on September 23rd and the second novella in his cyberpunk/crime thriller Ray Garret/Lifeline series, SoulServe, is available for pre-order and will release on September 30th. He is currently working hard to finish a number of novels and novellas all at once like a blind juggler given knives and led into oncoming traffic.


You can find more information on Where All Light is Left to Die and SoulServe at his website.

Contest alert! Stop by and join in the fun at the Robert S. Wilson Thrown-Together-at-the-Last-Minute-Due-to-An-Overwhelming-Amount-of-Procrastination-and-Indecision
Blog Tour and Book Giveaway Contest for your chance to win one of several prizes.

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Please Welcome Guest Author Michael K. Rose!

12/22/2012

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Today, I have the pleasure of hosting Michael K. Rose, author of the new release, Chrysopteron.  Similar to both my motivations and reservations in writing Myths of Gods, Michael has tackled the sensitive issue of incorporating religious themes in his literature.  If you're a Myths of Gods fan, you'll appreciate what he has to say.  Thanks so much for stopping by!

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Religion: Touching on a Touchy Subject in Fiction

My new science fiction novel Chrysopteron deals with religion. It deals with religion along with issues of self-determination, human nature, sex, the future of our planet. All good stuff, to be sure! But that first one always seems to cause the most trouble.

For many religious people, any discussion of religion, even in fiction, puts them on their guard. Unless they know they are reading religious fiction, I get the notion from reviews I’ve read on Amazon that anything critical of their belief system is unacceptable. I’ve even seen them justify their low ratings on the grounds that the author seemed anti-religion.

For the non-religious, they seem to want religion treated antagonistically. They want a knowing wink from the writer, telling them that he or she is on their side.

I’m generalizing, of course, but these are the attitudes I’ve encountered. So how does a writer handle the issue without alienating a good percentage of potential readers? I don’t know. I’ve still yet to see how my treatment of religion will be received, but I can tell you what I tried to do to address the issue fairly.

First, I used an invented religion. In the novel, the Chrysopteron is a generation ship sent to colonize a distant star. Near the beginning of the book, an event occurs which some of the ship’s inhabitants identify as a miracle and, as a result, a new religion is born. When the ship ultimately reaches its destination, this religion will shape the society that they build and, ultimately, decide how they respond to visitors from Earth hundreds of years later who have come to see why contact was broken off.

Second, I attempted to address the issue from two sides. In Chrysopteron, there are characters who are religious and those who are non-religious. Neither group has a monopoly on “good” or “bad” behavior. How cliché would it have been for me to say “all those people are bad and all these people are good?” Aside from being bad fiction, it does little to reflect the truth of the matter. Religion does not make people good or bad. It can, of course, but a list of good things done in the name of religion and a list of the bad things would not be very different from one another in length. So I have a religious character named Kayti who is a very sweet and sympathetic person. It broke my heart to have to do to her some of the things I did. Then, I also have a priest figure who you will not like at all. The non-religious characters are likewise more complex than being cast as simply “heroes” or “villains.”

Finally, I have attempted to let the reader decide for him or herself whether or not the members of this far-flung human society have, ultimately, made their lives better or worse than they would have been had they lived on Earth. Earth in the future depicted by Chrysopteron is not a particularly pleasant place. Over-population and climate change have led to a planet on which wars are commonplace and misery and suffering is plentiful. The way of life on the planet settled by the Chrysopteron’s crew, however, is a seemingly idyllic, generally peaceful existence—as long as one doesn’t go against the established religious order. I don’t ask the question directly, but would giving up one’s freedom of religion be worth living in such a peaceful society? And do the visitors from Earth have the duty—or the right—to upend this way of life in the interests of the truth?

I won’t give away the answers, of course. I have my own perspective—I’m sure readers of the novel will be able to detect it—and I want them to have theirs. I am not trying to make anyone agree or disagree with me. I simply want to explore religion from the unique perspective afforded by science fiction. If these issues interest you as much as they do me, I hope you’ll have a look at Chrysopteron, and if the novel sparks questions or comments, I am always available to chat with my readers. Whatever your perspective, though, I think it is important to remember that there is no reason we cannot all treat each other with kindness. No matter our differences, no matter our religion, ethnicity, culture or—in the case of my novel—our planet of birth, we are all human beings, and we are all trying to make it in this universe, we are all searching for joy for ourselves and our loved ones. If there is any message I hope readers take away from Chrysopteron, it is this simple yet easily forgotten fact.


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About Chrysopteron:

Captain John Hayden, haunted by memories of war and still grieving the death of his wife, is about to embark on the most important mission of his career: to discover the fate of the Chrysopteron, one of five generation ships which left the Earth centuries earlier. The descendants of the Chrysopteron’s original crew had successfully colonized their planet, but less than a hundred years later, all contact was lost. Hayden knows that a mysterious new religion which was formed aboard the ship may have played a role in determining the fate of the colonists, but there is no way to know what he and his crew will find when they finally arrive.
 
In a story that touches on issues of faith and self-determination, Chrysopteron explores the fundamental elements that define our species. Even though we may leave the Earth, we cannot leave behind that which makes us human.

About the Author:

Michael K. Rose is primarily an author of science fiction who also dabbles in horror, fantasy and paranormal fiction.

His novel Sullivan’s War has been called "...a sci-fi thriller that definitely delivers!" and his collection Short Stories has been praised as "...the purest form of literature, as rich as a bottle of Montrachet 1978 and as tasty as a generous cut of Wagyu beef."

His newest novel, Chrysopteron, is already being hailed as a "...gem of a novel..." and "a masterpiece."

Sullivan’s Wrath, the sequel to Sullivan’s War, will be released in early 2013.



Michael K. Rose’s new novel CHRYSOPTERON is now available on #Amazon! US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00APQI9MA UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00APQI9MA @MichaelKRose

Michael K. Rose’s new novel CHRYSOPTERON is being called “A masterpiece.” Get it for #Kindle or #Nook: http://www.michaelkrose.com/chrysopteron @MichaelKRose

For more information, please visit http://www.michaelkrose.com

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How Many Tears  Will There Be?

12/2/2012

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So, I had told myself I was going to let well enough alone.  I had told myself that I had said my piece and needed to let the rest go.  That just can’t be the case, not after what I witnessed this evening on the most recent showing of Sister Wives.

I had to step away from the television when one of the “sister wives” said, “We’re always in a state of chaos."  What really made me see red, however, was when the guest family featured on the episode portrayed a man, his first wife, and identical twins as wives number two and three.

I’m an identical twin.  I love my sister and would do nearly anything for her.  The one thing I would not do would be to share my husband with her.  This episode struck a personal chord.  It pained me to see these poor women deluding themselves into believing they are not oppressed.

I felt a knot in my throat when one of Kody’s wives shared, “I was raised in a way where I could say how I felt . . . I could say what I wanted.”    I wanted to reach out to her and tell her that it is her right to continue to express herself however she felt appropriate, that she has every right to say anything she wants without repercussion or the feeling that she might have overstepped her bounds as a woman.

Kody said that their lifestyle “works in theory,” but the tears that come forth in every episode say otherwise.  In not one episode has none of the wives broken down in tears, either over jealousy, or a sense of guilt in her feelings toward one of her “sister wives,” or because of some other drama directly related to their lifestyle.  One of the guest “sister wives” shared that she had, “to keep relearning” how to suppress her feelings of jealousy over her husband’s other “wives.”  One of his sons shares, “Our dad’s just big, bald, and intimidating.”

What kind of life is that?  What kind of meaningless existence is it to feel the need to “temper” one’s anger toward repression, sharing one man with multiple other women?  What kind of life is it to know nothing but “sacrifice,” “adjustment,” and selfless endeavor in the name of suffering—solely in the belief that said suffering will deify them after death?


These men say they are preparing for something “eternal.”  They have represent their “wives’” challenges as endearing.  I only see sadness, deluded dreams of an afterlife that will never come to pass, and sacrifice that will never pay off.  I see women treated like hens in a henhouse.  Women are human beings, not hens.  We deserve to live our lives feeling loved, cherished, and worth one man’s affection.  We do not deserve relationships that bring us tears, even part of the time.  I am the survivor of an abusive relationship.  My ex cracked my skull and left my entire body black and blue by the time I was willing to leave him.  He had cost me my self esteem—but only temporarily.  When I met the love of my life, I finally understood what it meant to feel like a woman.  I finally understood what it meant to be an equal—a partner—in a relationship, and it pains me to see these women suffering in the name of religion.

Religion can be a good thing, but it can also be the basis of great suffering.  I entreat any who read this and hold firm to any specific dogma to take a close look at their beliefs.  Do they bring you more joy than suffering, or do they evoke more tears than heartfelt smiles?  If the latter is the case, I ask that you reassess the good your dogma truly has done—not only for you, but for your children and others who follow the same faith.  If there is a God, I would think He/She/It/They would want you to be happy, regardless of whatever reward might await you in the afterlife.


Does this look like a happy family to you?
Are you the victim of a polygamist relationship and want out?  There are people willing to help you.  You don’t have to break free on your own.  There are people who want to help, resources such as http://www.shieldandrefuge.org/ that will assist you in redefining your independence.  Be proud.  Be strong.  Be your own woman.  Life is too short for so many tears.
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A Short and Humble Note on Religion and Politics

10/28/2012

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I've been following the "reality television" series Breaking Amish since its premiere, and while anyone who has done any research on the Amish communities (I did so a couple of years ago while entertaining a concept for a novel I allowed to fall through the cracks and into oblivion) might suspect the show was staged, I have felt compelled to continue watching.  The idea of a group of young people leaving behind all they know--and the support of all of their loved ones--is compelling.  Sadly, this week's episode was unable to pull off the realism portrayed in previous weeks, the rejection met with not a single tear shed by any of the participants being far too telling.  It is sad to think the participants have lost everything in order to pursue their dreams, but one must ask how genuine these sacrifices truly are.

Conversely, the upcoming premiere of the new season of Sister Wives, a show about an American polygamist and his four wives, leaves me with a completely different feeling of disdain.  This feeling comes not from a group's desire to live by their own religious freedom, but that they feel it is admissible--almost flaunted--because their religious beliefs dictate that it is okay to break the law as long as their religion says it is.

The idea that religion might dictate one's every move might seem foreign, or at least obstructive, to most.  However, given the recent political climate, it seems a necessary topic on which to write.  There are political challengers who would take away the liberties of others in the name of their own religious beliefs should they be elected, and the prospect of that is terrifying to me.  While America was based on religious freedom, it was not based on any one religion's beliefs; one person's religious freedom does not equate to the freedom to dominate others with said beliefs.  Religious freedom is religious freedom, be one Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Agnostic, Atheist, or any other creed.  The thought of legislation being pursued based on one person's beliefs--thus infringing upon the beliefs and rights of those who do not follow said beliefs--appalls me.
That is one of many reasons I chose to write Myths of Gods.  The excuse of imposing one person's beliefs upon another, even taking away rights of minorities who may or may not fall under a given religious category, is just that: an excuse.  What these people are suggesting is nothing short of theocracy, a way of life that has proven to thwart decades of progress in , for example, certain Islamic countries.  Before religion dictated their legislation, women excelled in their communities.  Now, they are oppressed, held from education and prestigious jobs, their rights revoked in the name of a given group's interpretation of God's will.  I fear the United States may be moving in a similar direction.  We have made many strides, and at a great cost, but there are those who would strip us of of this progress in the name of their own personal religious beliefs.  The same goes for gay rights.  We have been moving in a positive, progressive direction, but all that might be for naught if we allow the wrong people to fall into power.
I wrote Myths of Gods for many reasons, but one of the main reasons was my need to address the potential dangers of a theocratic state.  When we allow regulations and legislation to be dictated by the religious beliefs of one group, we alienate the liberties of those who fall outside that group.  One might do many things in the name of God--restrict, oppress, even kill--but that does not make it right.  What is right is working toward the liberty of all the people, regardless of race, creed, or sexual orientation.  Doing otherwise in the name of any god is simply blasphemy.
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