Chuck Wendig: Terribleminds

Apple-Obsessed Author Fella

Regarding The Pro-AI Tantrum In The HWA Newsletter

[Editing here to note that the HWA has removed this board member as of this afternoon. I’ll post the full text of that in the comments below.]

Today I, and every other HWA member, received the HWA newsletter in our inboxes. In that newsletter was an essay (“essay”) of pro-AI propaganda that made a number of specious points in an effort to, I guess, get us all to stop judging those who might use AI in their writing work and careers.

This is, of course, incredibly disappointing to see. This is a professional writer’s organization. It is the Horror Writer’s Association, not the Horror Prompter’s Association. A writer’s organization should be geared toward the act, the art, the craft, and the business of writing, not slop-wrangling and prompt-engineering using the shitty sparkling autocorrect of LLMs. It is grotesque to have pro-AI (“AI”) propaganda sent to us, the people whose necks are first under the boots of the AI companies. We are the people that have had all our work stolen immorally and illegally. We’re the ones turned into Soylent Green, so it’s a little fucking rude to have an essay piped hot and fresh into our inboxes that dares to be mad at us for criticizing anyone who eats Soylent Green. We’re getting cannibalized, turned into sausages, and you’re mad that we’re mad about it.

And when I say “you’re” mad, I don’t necessarily assume this is the Official Word of the HWA — already I’m seeing the rumbles that it most certainly is not, that they’re looking for ways to correct this. But the damage is done. The author, Sèphera Girón, is a trustee of the HWA, and saw fit to write what reads ultimately like an ill-thought-out tantrum and not a well-reasoned (if still disagreeable) pro-AI message. And so, regardless of how official this is, or isn’t, it’s disappointing that it ever made it out the door in the first place.

The “essay” is not something posted online, but you can find it online. One spot is here, on Bluesky, posted by author Holly Lyn Walrath.

On the one hand I don’t even know if the essay is worth legitimizing by taking it to task. On the other hand, it seems that its POV isn’t even “wow, AI is so great,” and more “wow, stop being mean about AI.” It attempts to take to task so-called “gatekeepers” and “bullies.”

So, I’m just going to go ahead and take some of the pieces from this essay and talk about how I feel these things are, at best, misguided, and at worst, poisonous notions about how stories are told and art is made.


“Technology keeps changing, oh-so-rapidly these days. We went from screaming about having to pump our own gas to screaming about self-checkouts. Back in the day, film studios were upset at the invention of home television sets, musicians were upset about electric guitars and synthesizers, filmmakers were upset about YouTube, visual artists were upset about photography, photographers were upset about Photoshop, and now writers are screaming about AI.”

I don’t know that pumping gas and self check-outs are relevant technological innovations here, but okay. But talking about film vs TV, electric instruments, photography, and so forth, leads into an argument that pro-AI (“AI” — again, we’re talking LLMs and what Tobias Buckell calls LIMs, Large Image Models) really like to use a lot, which is, “You stupid Luddite, you’re just afraid of the new technology.” And then sometimes they say something about horse-and-buggy versus the car, or some other false equivalency.

(Also, please look up the actual story of the Luddites.)

The reason all of this is false equivalency is that prompting your way to art or to writing is not the same as having a new tool that allows you to make art or tell a story. AI, here, is not a tool —

It’s not allowing you to do the work. You’re allowing it to do the work. Which is to say, you’re the tool.

The AI makes decisions. (Not literally. AI isn’t smart. It knows nothing. But programmatically, it takes pathways based on the chaos of its code.) You don’t make the decisions. You may guide them. But you don’t make them.

Look at it this way — if I have a camera, and I want to take a photo of a butterfly, I can do that. I can grab my camera. I can find a butterfly. I can track it, trying not to startle it, I can choose how to frame the shot in the chaos of that moment, I can choose how close I’m zoomed in, I can take one photo or a hundred. Then I can take the photos that I chose to take and do more work — cropping, adding contrast, modifying sharpness, whatever. Or I can take the photo and then choose to paint it, instead, using it as reference. Whatever. I have a lot of choices there, and they are choices born of the effort — and that multiply with greater effort — that I made out in the field.

But AI isn’t any of that.

AI is, metaphorically, me handing the camera to a robot and saying, “Go get me a photo of a butterfly.”

And then it brings one back. Maybe it’s what I wanted. Maybe it isn’t. But I didn’t make any choices except to fetch a digital errand boy to go make art for me.


Meanwhile, the invisible oligarchs who control everyone are having a field day. Everyone is falling into their traps. 

The real enemy isn’t your buddy who is using AI to make a book cover; the enemy is the Powers-That-Be who thrive on dividing everyone, especially in the United States. Look at how divided everyone in the US got over politics over the past ten years, and it’s now trickled to other countries. No more, are you a fellow human? Nope, it’s who did you vote for? Well, then you must be a hateful asshole. Instant block.

I recognize here a snippet of truth that we should be aiming our cannons at the giant companies and oligarchs who are fucking everything up and not individuals — that’s entirely fair. At the same time, that doesn’t mean going to bat for the oligarchs. Sure, there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism — but there’s also ways to not gleefully be unethical. There’s “I reluctantly have to drive to work every day, which uses fuel and harms the environment” versus, “I get my Ford F-One-Fuck-You and I roll coal and drive aggressively and vomit fumes everywhere because I don’t give a shit, you woke beta.”

Thing is, even that metaphor kinda sucks — because in most parts of this country, driving a gas vehicle is still often a grim necessity. But using AI to write or make art? Is not. It just isn’t. You can write stories and make art without it. You could eschew its use last month, last year, ten years ago, a hundred, a thousand. It’s absolutely non-essential. (I’ve never used it.)

And since she wants to bring up politics —

I mean, yeah, if you voted for the hateful asshole — and have not yet had a Come To Jesus moment about that vote and that support — and I’m gonna wonder if maybe you’re a hateful asshole, too. It’s like, if someone kicks a puppy and you clap, no, I don’t automatically assume you’re a puppy-kicker, but I sure don’t think you’re someone I’ll hire as a pet-sitter, you feel me?


“The past few weeks have been so tedious with all the gatekeepers out in full force. They are whipping people up into a frenzy, and more division is happening when it comes to AI. Of course, the irony is that the gatekeepers are denouncing AI, yet they are doing it on Facebook, which uses AI. They are likely typing their pretentious screeds on their phones, which also use AI. They likely sell their books on Amazon, which also uses AI.”

Again, a deeply strained logic here. Choosing to use AI in your work is a choice different than simply existing in a world where it is being used around you and by some of the services. And honestly, most of the people who are on Facebook or who have books on Amazon are still doing their best to never use AI. They turn it off when they are able to do so. They avoid its use. They hate when they see it.


“Oh, but Sèphera, there are different levels of AI use, and some are OKAY, but some ARE NOT.”

I mean, yeah? Isn’t that life? Everything is on some kind of spectrum, and sometimes that spectra is, in fact, in an increasing gradient of “enh” to “demonically terrible.” We’re all making choices out here however we can. AI that finds cancer or gets me to the mall faster is different than the one that stole my work and shits it back out when prompted.


“Are you watching TV? Are you using Alexa? Do you have home security? What kind of car do you drive? Do you go to the doctor? Do you watch TV? Do you go to the movies? Do you have shopping apps on your phone?”

What?

What does this even mean?

Am I participating in society, you mean? I’m not new here. Yes, we’re all doing these things all the time. This is very shallow and quite silly. “DO YOU BREATHE AIR? DO YOU USE THE TOILET? ARE YOU CLAD IN FLESH AND ACKNOWLEDGE CORPOREAL REALITY? AH! THEN YOU EXIST IN THE SAME PLANE OF EXISTENCE AS AI! HYPOCRITE!”

Like, what are we even doing here.


“Oh, Sèphera, that’s not the point. The evil is GENERATIVE AI, not all the other AI!

Sure, sure. Let’s somehow separate one form from another. 

Pick and choose your evil so that you can keep gatekeeping and let the oligarchs win as the little people continue to fight against each other.”

She’s very close here to getting it, actually.

Yes, you can separate one form from another. In fact, you really should, because that’s how reality works — different things are in fact different. Worse things are worse than better things!

It’s like saying that eating food includes eating a Thanksgiving turkey and eating your neighbor, Dave. Well, they’re both eating! Oh, what! We’re going to separate one form from another now!! Way to gatekeep my cannibalism, you bully!!!


Yes, we know AI is using up resources. So does driving a car or a plane. So does building a new home. So do a lot of things. Humans have always used up Earth’s resources and usually not nicely. There are reservations and other Indigenous communities in Canada that have never had clean water and have been ravaged by pipeline construction. But somehow that’s been okay for the past fifty years or a hundred years, and very few people scream about that. But suddenly, AI is the enemy, not everything else we’ve been doing all along. 

Suddenly YOUR water might not be so clean, so now it’s a Big Deal.”

“Humans have always used resources, and indigenous people have always been fucked over, so oh well” is not neither a nice nor particularly realistic argument. “Nothing can ever be better, so make things worse” is essentially the thrust of it.


“All the drama and arguments in the horror writing field would be less prevalent if people could have conversations and educate each other. No one really and truly knows what’s going on or even what the bottom line or end goal is. But what we do know is that here at the HWA, we are all writers, we all work in publishing in some capacity, and AI is here to stay. HWA has a public stance against generative AI. But not everyone knows what that is or even how to use it. 

Instead of blocking people and then telling others to block those people because those people DARED to explore AI potential for their own careers, why not be human and educate each other? Watch out for each other. Help each other. RAISE EACH OTHER UP.

I don’t really even understand what all of this means, and honestly, re-reading her screed just makes me both annoyed and tired.

Here, I think, is the thrust of it.

Her essay behooves us writers to be “human” and to “raise each other up.”

Except, AI is not human.

It’s made of humans! It took so much of what makes us very interesting and chucked it all inside a fucking Instant Pot and let it simmer until it’s all just steamy goo. So, seeing people use it — meaning, scooping up ladlefuls of material stolen from their peers — sure doesn’t feel like them raising us up (except to their greedy lazy pig mouths), so why are we obliged to raise them up? It’s the “tolerate my intolerance” with an AI-friendly spin on it.

None of this is new from me, but I think it really behooves people to understand why some folks are so very angry at AI, at its creators, and at those quislings who dare to use it.

It’s very serious to us — a theoretically-existential threat! — to have our work taken without our permission and used to feed gluttonous software designed by techbros who literally say the quiet parts out loud when they talk about how it’ll destroy jobs, how we’re all gonna have to move to the fucking moon or instead live in a bunker beneath a data center somewhere, how if they actually had to pay creators for licensing rights they’d be bankrupt. They steal our work, they throw it into the machine like so much coal, and then use it to enrich themselves while simultaneously harming the environment and poisoning the fidelity of all our information systems. It is very clear that they want to treat information and knowledge as a resource to be mined — a utility to control, one that can be leveraged to extract payment from us. We and our work is all just material — Capital-C Content — to be melted down into slag.

So yeah! We’re kinda fucking mad about it! And when we see someone we like using it, we kinda want to kick some sand onto your shoes. You look like a sell-out. Like someone who just sold his buddy to the Cannibal Farm down the road. When someone like Hank Green is found to be using AI, it’s not that I think Hank Green — who by all reports seems like a lovely guy! — should be strung up by his heels and hit with crowbars. But it’s still disappointing. Because he’s a science communicator whose whole schtick is to answer questions and provide some measure of entertaining truth while also being someone interested in and invested in the health and wellness of our world and society — so when he’s seen using technology that sure seems to be damaging the health and wellness of our world and society, meaning it’s harming the many to benefit the few, well, yeah, you’re going to see people wanting to take him to task for that.

All this goes back to the fact that the HWA — and the SFWA, and the Author’s Guild, and so on and so forth — are professional writing organizations.

And using generative AI is not only not writing, it should not be a part of writing, and it should be viewed as antithetical to our crafts and our careers. And before you say “but what about autocorrect,” know that you and I both know what I’m talking about when I say generative AI or LLMs and it doesn’t mean using fucking spellcheck, okay? Okay.

If you wanna use AI, I can’t stop you.

But I can definitely give you a look like you just giddily shit your pants on a crowded train. That’s not me bullying you. That’s me acknowledging you shat yourself willfully and with joy and now we’re all having to deal with it.

You make your choices.

As for the HWA, I sure hope they’re going to walk this back and try to ensure something like this does not happen again, because it’s hard to stay a member of the organization if they can’t keep something so simple as their newsletter under control. Anyway. Have a great day. And fuck AI, amen.

The Demons Provide: Tour Shirts Have Arrived

(And by “the demons,” I mean, my excellent merch designer, Jordan Shiveley.)

So! The Calamities tour — henceforth known as the BEST FIENDS FOREVER tour — is gonna start kicking into gear in a couple weeks, with me hitting: Philly, NYC, Doylestown (for Dark Ink, baby), Harrisburg, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Chicago-area, Milwaukee, Madison, Minneapolis, Denver, St. Louis, and Charlotte-area (Belmont Litfest!) in the first wave, then a couple more dates in October (NYCC, Ottawa Can*Con, Hudson Valley, New Hampshire, Burlington VT). I come to spread the gospel of the fiends and demons to thee, lost souls!

And with that in mind, there are now COOL TOUR SHIRTS.

We did shirts for Black River Orchard, and they seemed a big hit —

So it was time to do some for this tour.

Thanks to Jordan for these — several versions are available!

First up:

And then next, the cuter version:

And an even cuter version

AND there’s a cool tour poster —

You can click the images or, of course, just go right to the WENDIG VOIDMERCH page and order these or merch from previous books, too.

Check ’em out and wear ’em to the tour if you got ’em.

And I do hope you’ll come check out the tour — the tour dates and links are here. I’m trying to hit some spots I haven’t hit before! Come see me and other cool writers talk about, well, I dunno, demons and apples, probably.

Please check out the book! Or I perish in the great abyss!

You can order signed copies from several of the bookstores I’ll be traveling to, so you can always check in with them — or my own local store, Doylestown Bookshop, can send to you, as well.

In Which I Share Some Good News (And Some Gratitude)

I shan’t dally in giving the aforementioned good news: hey, The Staircase in the Woods earned out its advance!

This is, as noted, good news. Very good news, honestly. The writers who are reading this right now probably understand this good news implicitly, somewhere deep in the marrow of their bones — but casual readers may not know what this means precisely, so I’ll do my level best to explain it:

When you and a publisher come to terms to publish a book of yours, you are often given an “advance,” which is to say, “advance against royalties,” which is a sum of money that could be five thousand bucks or fifty thousand or, I dunno, 2.5 million (earned at auction just before your book is canceled because someone believes you used AI to write it, ahem, ahem). That money is yours! You do not have to pay it back unless, I guess, you really, really fuck up.

The book comes out. It sells whatever it sells. And maybe one day, one day, it sells enough copies to appease the Molochian Demon trapped in the cellars of the Celestial Publishing Guild. The demon roars its pleasure at having fed enough, and that is when you quote-unquote “earn out your advance.”

Or something.

(Okay more seriously, it’s when your royalties for the sales of the book meet that advance. Once that number is met, you start actually getting paid those royalties rather than them being fed to the demon in the cellar.)

(I mean, there’s definitely a demon, I wasn’t making that part up. Honestly, when you think about it, demonic influence really explains a lot of creative industries!)

(Hail Satan!)

Anyway. That happened with The Staircase in the Woods, which is a very good thing. First because hey, now I get more money from the book. And I don’t hate money! I mean, capitalism is largely runaway terrible, but I still need to pay bills and buy apples, and money is how that happens. Second, it’s good because it makes the publisher happy. A happy publisher means they keep publishing me and other books like this one. Happy publisher, happy author, happy industry, happy cellar demon.

(That said, there’s a persistent myth that earning out the advance is “when the book becomes profitable,” but as I understand it, the publisher profits off of the book well before this point.)

A number of my books have earned out — a non-exhaustive humble-braggy list: Star Wars: Aftermath, Zer0es, Invasive, Kick-Ass Writer, Damn Fine Story, Wanderers, The Book of Accidents.

Now, my last two books, which is to say, Wayward and Black River Orchard, have not yet earned out. If we’re being honest, I suspect Wayward won’t, at least not any time soon. Black River Orchard could get there, yet. I suspect it’s close. Will someone buy like, 1000 copies for me? I’ll, uhhh, pay you back*.

I still don’t know why Wayward’s sales are a fraction of the sales of Wanderers — some combination of “came out a couple years too late” and “came out during COVID” and “people don’t even realize Wanderers had a sequel.” Who knows!

There’s also the facet here that I did not have this book bucket accounted. Which is to say, it’s part of a three book deal that included the two other books that did not earn out — so, those books don’t drag this one down, and it can earn out on its own. If books are bucket-accounted, you have to have royalties surmount the total advance for all three books, which can be fine if they’re all winners.

Less good if they’re not.

Anyway —

Whatever the case is, Staircase is close to equaling the sales of Wayward and Black River Orchard combined. Why is that? I don’t know. It’s easy to be like, “well duh the book is awesome,” but I like to hope that all my books offer at least some portion of awesome up to the readers. I think some books connect well with readers, some books hit at the right times, and some books also offer the proper alchemy of simple things like title, cover, concept, and so forth. Staircase, I think, at least has those latter three on lock — it’s very very easy to pitch, it sounds and looks very mysterious, it has a simple hook that hides what I feel is a complex execution, and I think those things work in its favor. (But maybe there’s also a witch involved who has given me her witchy favor! Honestly, that’d be great.)

The book has never really lost much steam in its sales — and paperback really gave it an extra bit of juice. I think also one of the more interesting things is, it has sold pretty low in e-book format. It’s very high on physical and audio. I don’t know how or why these things are, but I like it.

What I do know is that this means it’s really not me who got it to where it is now — certainly I wrote the book, and for sure the publisher put together the best package they could for it. But at the end of the day, it did as well as it did because of booksellers, librarians, and of course, readers.

AKA, you fine, fine people.

So — a huge, huge thank you.

This is because of you. You checked out the book. And you told other people about the book. Which at the very core of things is how writers get to keep writing.

THANK YOU I LOVE YOU ALL SORRY ABOUT THE EVIL STAIRCASE

* I will pay you back in heart emojis, which I’m sure is currency somewhere


I would surely be delinquent if I did not remind you that tomorrow is the demonic goodies pre-order deadline for The Calamities at Doylestown Bookshop. You can of course pre-order it from there or anywhere after tomorrow! But tomorrow is what gets you the diabolical sticker, and the infernal and unique personalization.

Doylestown will send the book right to you — or you can pick it up at Dark Ink when I launch The Calamities there with Clay McLeod Chapman.

(Tickets for that event are here!)

Also, again, I’m going on tour for The Calamities (though I’ll also for sure be signing Staircase paperbacks) — I’m doing Philly, NYC, Doylestown, Harrisburg, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Chicago, Milwaukee, Madison, Minneapolis, Denver, St. Louis, and the Belmont Lit Fest in NC, plus more in October (NYCC, Ottawa Can*Con, Gibson’s in NH, Phoenix in VT, Oblong in the Hudson Valley.) You can snag all the tour details here. Including what stores, how to RSVP, what very cool authors I get to talk to, and more.

Oh, finally, you can watch me displaying the super-pretty-and-also-pretty-creepy hardcover of Calamities here.

You Cannot Use One Bullshit Machine To Catch Another Bullshit Machine

I really fucking hate AI right now. I really fucking hated AI yesterday and the day before, too, though I think the hate is growing faster and hotter, like a sun about to explode and consume the galaxy it brightens and warms. I hate AI because it steals our books, and then then it pukes up and shits out all our books into one half-digested pile, and then everyone reads the shitpuke it pukeshitted up and then they see “AI tells” in it that they identify in human-written source material because of course they do, it stole that stuff from us, of course it’s going to replicate it, that’s literally it’s entire stupid fucking point is to sound like us, and they’re like “oh no you used this kind of analogy” and “oops I see an emdash, that’s AI,” and suddenly we’re forced to decide whether or not we’re going to change our writing, back on our defensive heel so nobody can accuse us of using AI, and it’s like oh shit should we be setting up timelapse videos of our writing sessions every day just so we don’t have a shitty Atlantic article accusing us of conspiring with the enemy, and they’ll use AI to “detect” AI and it doesn’t fucking work and it just adds to the confusion and chaos of information online now and it degrades the fidelity of trust and throws up plumes of misinformation and disinformation where anything is true and anything is false and fucking of course to do all this every part of AI drinks the water and burns the sky and requires more and more data centers that shriek digital cicada noise into the air and for some reason these data centers all need like, coal engines to run, like they’ve got some Victorian orphan or ICE captive shoveling coal into old furnaces to make the data centers churn and burn as if they were designed in Hell but built on Earth, and then somehow the literal worst people on this beautiful planet use it to add to their billions, while the rest of us can’t afford gas and food and clean air and clean water and fucking fuck what the fuck are we fucking doing here

OKAY I really was coming here to write a more cogent post than this. I promise. I swear. Fuck. Okay. Reset. Reboot. Deep breath. Fuck.

Where am I?

Okay.

The other day, the Atlantic posted an article that sorta kinda mostly accused the author of the new “romanscifi” (not a term, probably) Daggermouth, of using AI to write her book. And the evidence for this was that people ran the book through an AI detector called Pangram, which itself uses AI, and it came back pretty sure that the book was AI. The problem is, of course, that all of AI is a huge liar — it knows nothing, it can only regurgitate things, and it often lies about, say, me having a bunch of cats. Or it’ll gladly tell you, “yes, eating dog poop is safe.”

That dog poop video is recent, by the way, and the hilarity in it is compounded by the fact that the AI also lies about having seen a photo of dog poop in the first place. AI is a lying liar that lies. It tells you what you want to hear. It makes up stuff. It doesn’t know or care because it isn’t even alive. It’s never achieved the singularity. It didn’t go rogue and hack another AI and it didn’t leave secret messages for itself in the future (ahem ahem they stole that from Wanderers, you fuckers) and it didn’t talk to itself in some special secret language. Did the author who wrote Daggermouth use AI? I don’t know. I don’t know her. I do know that you can’t use AI to find AI, because it’ll always find AI, because it knows you want to find AI, that’s why you’re using it in the first place. So it does what you want to do. It tells you what you want to hear. The techbros will tell you any story they can to convince you that their awful software is nearing apotheosis.

It’s all a bunch of mythmaking efforts on behalf of the AI companies who really really want you to believe these systems are sentient in order to boost their stock prices. They build this myth, and then we intake the myth, spread it around, and it suddenly becomes the reason we decide to go on a witch-hunt against (in this case, a Black woman author) a writer for using AI, even though they had to use AI to even find if she used AI in the first place, which feels like a witch-hunt in the truest sense. “Ah, yes, we used evil deception to suggest that you are actually the evil deceiver, so please stand there while we set you on fire in the public square for all to see.”

Then there’s the response to this sort of thing where, reportedly, authors are trying to modify their writing so as to defensively not make it sound like AI. (Article here, in Wired.) Is this good strategy? I don’t know! Certainly I think you’re better-served in your writing life trying to write… you know, like you want to write instead of using some generic style or writing with bare-bone tropes that are easily replicable by systems, but at the same time, eventually it’s gonna scoop up whatever “new” style you choose and begin to mimic that, as well. It uses emdashes not because AI likes emdashes. AI doesn’t like anything. It’s just a super-chaotic aggro autocorrect. It’s a very-complicated lorum ipsum generator. It takes what we’ve done and it implements it into its own crass facsimile of our work.

I’m not changing shit about how I write. I like the way I write. Maybe you do, too. Maybe you don’t! Plenty of people think I write like shit, and that’s fine — that’s life in the big city, man. Hell, the fact I just wrote “life in the big city,” which is a cliche, could be used as proof that I used AI to generate this post, even though I haven’t used AI to generate a goddamn thing* and wouldn’t know how to do it even if you asked me to. Point is, I’m keeping the emdashes, I’m keeping my weird metaphors, I’m keeping the words I like to sometimes overuse because I like to sometimes overuse them. It’s not a strategy. It’s a style. A style you love, or hate, or don’t care about. But it’s mine, AI. Get your robot hands the fuck off it**.

The Bullshit Machine cannot detect, or catch, or understand The Bullshit Machine. They sold us snake oil, and then once we were like, “hey, this is snake oil,” they’re then selling us a different snake oil to detect and thwart the original snake oil.

Whatever. Fucking fuck. What a nightmare this is. What a weird dystopia these awful rich fucks have made for us to live in. Goddamnit.

Anyway, let me just reiterate this, in case you’re really new here: I don’t use AI for my work, not one bit. If I detect it in my software, I turn it off. I do not use it to generate ideas, generate text, to do research, to take notes, not even to transcribe notes. I think people who use AI in any capacity for writing are, at best, rubes fooling themselves, and at worst (and most common), are lazy unethical worms who care nothing for the craft or the end result or for other writers or for their readers or really any of it except the dopamine hit they get from hitting their little prompt buttons and screaming COMPUTER DADDY WRITE MY STORY FOR ME NNNNYGHHH as they spend the rest of the time gooning to Claude or whatever. In fact, it’s worse than not-caring — they are glad to help destroy the entire foundations of art and literature all so they can get their little kicks without having to do a single iota of actual work.

Fuck the AI users. Slop-slags. Word-stealers. Greasy leeches.

ANYWAY I AM SORRY I AM YELLING

Please preorder my book, The Calamities, which was written the old fashioned way, with my stupid regular-ass meat-brain and my fingers going type-type-type on an ergonomic keyboard.

* once upon a time I was glad to use Midjourney for the really weird shit it made, until I learned that Midjourney, like all AI, is just Soylent Green, grinding us all up to make its horrible Content, and then I also obviously have used it inadvertently in Google searches, because that Google Gemini shit is pervasive

** of course it’s not really AI “doing” any of this, is it — it’s not alive, it has no agency, it has no wants or thoughts or anything, it’s all the billionaire techbro class who don’t care about us and who are trapped in ketamine fantasies of living in a White Lotus version of Mars while the rest of us work the hamster wheels in the Infinite Data Center Dyson Sphere they turn Earth into

Demony Goodness: Sticker preview (And Reminder)

A few folks asked if they could see the creepy-cool-sorta-almost-cute demon stickers by the ever-fabulous Natalie Metzger —

So click here to check ’em out.

You get one of those, randomly, from the pile, if you pre-order from Doylestown Bookshop by August 2nd. (You also get a unique-to-you personalization identifying your DEMONIC PARENTAGE. So that’s nice for you!)

Reminder that Doylestown will ship right to you! Or you can also pick up if you’re coming to DARK INK (which you should because uhhh have you seen the fucking lineup of horror authors at that thing??).

Also, look! Veronica Roth said something very nice about the book! “Vivid, settling, and darkly compelling.” And sure, sure, she’s like a super mega huge author (ahem, Divergent), but she’s also the writer behind When Among Crows and To Clutch A Razor, which are some of my favorite things to exist.

Anyway! Okay! Check out the book! Pre-order if you wanna! And come see me on tour, won’t you? (Also I now have a link for the Gibson’s event with me and Delilah S. Dawson, so click here if you’re able to come to New Hampshire in October! Do it. Do it now. Do not disappoint the demons of New England.)

ALL RIGHT sorry for the promotional noise but a boy gotta hustle or a boy gonna end up in the gutter somewhere. Love you byeeeee.

Oh, also to counterbalance the promotional noise here are a few photos from my trip to Ireland/Scotland. Enjoy. Or don’t! I don’t know what moves the weird lump of meat you call a heart. For all I know you like doom polka and photos of Japanese toilets. You like what you like, friend.

Caroline M. Yoachim: Five Things I Learned Writing Interviews for Uncanny Magazine

Uncanny Magazine is an award-winning online science fiction and fantasy magazine, and every issue is packed with incredible stories, poems, essays, podcasts…and interviews. We need your help to fund another year! Check out our Uncanny Magazine Year 13: The Space Unicorn Believes in YOU! Kickstarter for subscriptions and cool backer rewards, and help us spread the word!

I started doing the print interviews for Uncanny in 2018: that’s seven and a half years, fifty issues with two interviews each, a hundred opportunities to chat with authors about their work. In that time, I’ve learned a lot—about the stories, the authors, what makes for a good interview, and more…


1. Process is whatever gets the story written.

I love talking to writers about their process! For Uncanny Magazine interviews, the first question I ask is usually how the story started—the spark or inspiration. Authors are constantly bombarded with inspirations, which can be anything—a reality tv show, a flooded village in Greece, a ballroom dance scene from a film—but for most writers, finding ideas is the easy part, the execution is what’s tricky.

And how a story comes together is all over the map:

  • R.S.A. Garcia wrote her award-winning storyTantie Merle and the Farmhand 4200” in eight hours after a comment from a friend sparked the idea and the story “dropped into [her] head fully formed.”
  • For “The Memory Hounds of Bak-Ankham,” A. W. Prihandita did extensive planning before starting to write the actual draft—over twelve thousand words of notes!
  • Sarah Pinsker’s award-winning “Where Oaken Hearts Do Gather,” has a structure inspired by the lyrics site Genius, and she started by writing the lyrics and then developed characters to make comments on the ballad.
  • In the interview with DaVaun Sanders about “All the World Is Fog,” I found out that his process for developing characters includes… an interview! Asking his characters questions helps him get to know their motivation and quirks.

Being able to talk to dozens of authors about their process has really driven home for me that there are so many ways to write a story, there is no one size fits all writing advice, and in the end authors just have to do the thing that works.

2. Go down the research rabbit holes!

It’s no secret that authors do a lot of research, but it’s fun to see how that research comes into play. Sometimes research informs the speculative element of a piece. Catherynne M. Valente drew from Romani, Greek, and Hebrew folklore in writing “When he Calls Your Name.” I’ll refrain from getting into details about what kind of folklore to avoid spoilers for anyone who hasn’t had a chance to read the story yet.

Other times the research helps authors recreate a general vibe or sense of place—Permanent Press features an unusual laundromat, and author Sunwoo Jeong “…sort of skulked around the neighborhood cleaners, trying to imbibe the atmosphere.” In “Red, Scuttle When the Ships Come Down,” Wen-yi Lee drew on historical events to create a context of “British colonialism and late nineteenth/early twentieth-century migrations” but shifted this into a more surreal story that isn’t explicitly set in any specific time or place.

One of my favorites is the research that goes into smaller details, like choosing the proper type of fruit:

“I also spent a lot of time thinking about fruits and looking up where they came from and all these tiny details about them. For example, I thought for a while that I was going to use pawpaws as the fruit at the end because I associate them with the woods near where I grew up, but I just couldn’t buy that they would survive the throw over the wall!”

AnaMaria Curtis, in the interview for “The Glass City.”

It’s a type of research I know all too well as an author—the random tidbits that you need to know for a small moment in a story, where you spend a lot of time doing research in order to write a line or two of text.

Research adds depth and realism to stories. It informs the choices authors make, and sometimes takes them in directions they didn’t originally plan to go. Authors choose which details to delve into, find connections between two vastly different topics, decide how realistic (or not) to make various elements of worldbuilding—these decisions shape the final story in ways that AI-generated texts cannot replicate. Going down the research rabbit hole is one of the things that makes human writing, well, human.

3. Authors are people, too.

Okay, so technically I already knew this (though admittedly when I was a kid I thought of authors as mythical god-like creatures b/c they made books). But! Since we’re currently being inundated with AI-generated texts, the humanity of authors is a point worth emphasizing. One of the great things about doing interviews at Uncanny Magazine is getting to introduce readers to the people behind the stories.

When I’m writing interview questions, I draw from elements in a story to ask about authors’ interests. A few that come up relatively frequently are gaming, music, and travel. Another thing I often ask about is food/cooking (which possibly says as much about my focus as it does about the authors!) and sometimes the resulting answers tend to make me hungry:

“One of my favorite food memories involves my aunt attempting to teach me how to make nyonya pineapple tarts. They’re little balls of dense pineapple jam on open flaky, buttery cookie-sized tarts, popular during Chinese New Year.”

Anya Ow, in the interview  for Everything Under Heaven

And then, obviously, there are books! I ask writers about literary influences and about something more recent that they’ve read and loved. Answers to the former give a sense of context, authors’ texts in conversation with each other over time. Answers to the latter are a great place to discover new things to add to my reading list (and maybe yours, too).

4. Offbeat questions are fun to answer…

When I interview authors for Uncanny, I try to come up with a good mix of questions. I think about the pacing for the interview much as I would for a short story, so near the middle I throw in a question that is lighthearted, silly, or offbeat. Many times, these questions ask authors to put themselves in their characters’ shoes, and authors often single this out as their favorite question to answer. A few recent examples:

If you were offered godhood, would you take it?

The angels sometimes left trinkets, small trivial things. If they left something for you, what would you want it to be, and why?

If she dealt a tarot card for you, which one would it be…?

These sorts of questions are fun for readers to think about, too—if you were in the story, how might it be different? (I won’t answer all the questions—after all, I’m the interviewer, not the interviewee—but today my tarot card would be the Two of Wands.)

5. Uncanny Needs YOUR help to fund another year!

One last thing I’ve learned as an interviewer for Uncanny Magazine is that the business side of running a magazine is hard. Every issue of Uncanny is the combined effort of so many people—authors, artists, poets, essayists, editor-in-chief Michael Damian Thomas, and the entire Uncanny Magazine staff. So here is a chance to support real life human creators working together to make something amazing:

The Uncanny Magazine Year 13: The Space Unicorn Believes in YOU! Kickstarter is going on right now! We need your help to make Year 13 of Uncanny happen, and this is your chance to snag subscriptions, signed books, manuscript critiques, online hangouts, and other great rewards!


Caroline M. Yoachim is a prolific author of science fiction and fantasy short stories, including her Ignyte Award-winning short story “We Will Teach You How to Read | We Will Teach You How to Read”. Her stories have been translated into several languages, reprinted in best-of anthologies, and honored as finalists for multiple genre awards including the Hugo (four times) and Nebula Awards (seven times). Her short story collection Seven Wonders of a Once and Future World & Other Stories is available from Fairwood Press. For more, check out her website at carolineyoachim.com.