Another anxiety-inducing awards season! As a member of Team Don’t Self-Reject, here’s a list of what I’ve had published in 2017. If you have difficulty accessing any of the non-free content, please feel free to contact me for reading copies.
I am in my second and final year of eligibility for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer.
Anthologies are eligible for the Anthology category of the World Fantasy Award and the Anthology category of the Locus Award.
Strange California edited by Jaym Gates and J. Daniel Batt, April 2017 from StoryJitsu.
Features my short story “From Something Emerging.”
Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation edited by Phoebe Wagner and Brontë Christopher Wieland, August 2017 from Upper Rubber Boot Books.
Features my translation of the short story “Speechless Love” by Yilun Fan.
All my short fiction is eligible for the Short Story category of the Hugo Award, the Short Story category of the Nebula Award, the Short Fiction category of the World Fantasy Award, the Short Fiction category of the BFSA Award, the Short Story category of the Locus Award, and also the Theodore Sturgeon Award and the James Tiptree, Jr. Literary Award.
“Möbius Continuum.” Translation of 《莫比乌斯时空》 by Gu Shi (顾适). Clarkesworld, September 2017. 4,400 words.
Five minutes ago, the skies were still clear and boundless.
The moment dark clouds bore down from between the mountains, I knew we were done for. The quarrel couldn’t have been smaller; I don’t remember what exactly I did to make Lin Ke’s eyebrows twitch, but I knew she was angry. So I poured her a cup of honey water and set it on the tea table as a silent apology.
But X drank it instead.
“Speechless Love.” Translation of 《不会说话的爱情》 by Yilun Fan (范轶伦). Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation edited by Phoebe Wagner and Brontë Christopher Wieland, August 2017 from Upper Rubber Boot Books. 2,400 words.
Morning, April 6, 2279. As I dump eggshells into the Earth-bound trash, my hovership’s screen beeps and displays a neat line of black text:
“Hello! May I introduce myself?”
“The Person Who Saw Cetus.” Translation of 《看见鲸鱼座的人》 by Tang Fei (糖匪). Clarkesworld, May 2017. 5,500 words.
Father stood beside her, looking at her homework. The computer had already gone into screensaver mode; bright green, heart-shaped clouds darted across the black interface. Father swept his hand over the screen. A depth view of the interior of a railway car burst onto the gallium nitride screen. The scenery outside sped by the windows; inside, fourteen pink goldfish sat stiffly on the same bench, their bodies swaying with the forward motion of the train, their eyes spinning as they watched the clouds whirling throughout the cabin. This was the screensaver that Father had programmed just for her.
The only one in the whole universe. He always took great pains to make strange and unique gifts for her.
“From Something Emerging.” Strange California edited by Jaym Gates and J. Daniel Batt, April 2017 from StoryJitsu. 5,000 words.
I’ve learned how to tilt my head at the right angle to lure someone in, how to fake a Duchenne smile. How to pretend to be prey when I’m anything but. Tonight, I’m out to dinner at one of the more high-end restaurants in downtown LA with a white guy named Kevin, and the only thing betraying my true nature is the side of deep-fried silkworm pupae that I’ve ordered.
“A Complex Filament of Light.” Anathema 1, April 2017. 3,400 words.
After winter, spring in Antarctica is almost pleasant, most days just barely below freezing. As you make your way back to the station, you stop and glance at the horizon—you prefer these days of twilight, the soft orange glow of sun on the horizon contrasting beautifully with the deep indigo of the sky. It’s more interesting than never ending daylight, more comforting than the long nights of winter. And it’s still enough of a distinction to create the illusion of darkness, to trick your body into maintaining a circadian rhythm.
“What Could Be.” Daily Science Fiction, August 24, 2017. 150 words.
My mother was from the sea, raised by the Pacific Ocean that laps at both China and the United States. When she rose salt-crusted from that amniotic love, she found that she could never stay long on either shore, that she needed to be traveling between them.
“Introduction to the Journal of Interplanetary Lycan Studies, Volume 1, Issue 1.” Mad Scientist Journal, June 2017. 900 words.
The publication of the Journal of Interplanetary Lycan Studies is an opportune time to reflect on the history of our field and what we already know. Although lycans have existed in the histories of all human civilizations and have indeed been embraced in many communities, the rise of European colonialism in the 16th century spread lycanthrophobia worldwide, suppressing many lycan-oriented institutions around the globe. Asylums became the standard “treatment” for lycans; research on lycanthropy was forbidden. Lycans would not begin to regain basic rights until mass decolonization in the 20th century, and although lycan studies arose around that time, the field remained small until midway through the 20th century. At the same time, research on outer space began to take off. It took the space race of the 1950s and various concurrent movements to depathologize lycanthropy for lycans and non-lycans alike to unite to understand the factors that contribute to lycanthropy.
“Vector.” Gamut, April 2017. 1,000 words.
The crows spoke with the voices of dead children. They swooped through the air, black smudges against a tapestry of blue, cawing words torn from fevered throats. One landed on a branch outside Mei’s bedroom.
“Don’t want medicine,” it croaked.
“An Abundance of Fish.” Uncanny, March/April 2017. 800 words.
Spring festival, before the fish arrive: Teresa Teng croons from the radio; I hum along as I hang paper decorations, the reds and golds bright against our cream-colored walls. You’re in the kitchen making dinner—Shanghai-style sauteéd niangao, braised cod, stir-fried green beans. Sizzle, pop. Water runs from the sink, interrupting the music for a moment, and then I hear your slipper-soft footsteps padding to me.
“Curiosity Fruit Machine.” GlitterShip, February 2017. 700 words.
“What is it?” Alliq says.
Jalzy runs eir hands over the object. It’s a box of some sort, made from metal with organic paneling; a narrow lever sticks out from one side. Ey finds emself reaching out to the lever, eir fingers grasping the pockmarked knob at the end as if working from unearthed muscle memory.
“I have no clue,” Jalzy says. “But… I kinda wanna pull this and see what happens.”
All my poetry published this year is eligible only for the Short Poem category of the Rhysling Award.
“Badwater.” Twisted Moon, May 2017. 26 lines.
I throw myself into your embrace, Death Valley;
your painted curves rise against the horizon, and I dip into
your navel, taste the waters that pool there: salt on my tongue,
salt slick against my fingers; salt and salt and more salt.
“Inhalations.” Strange Horizons, January 2017. 30 lines.
I learned a new language today,
each word a combination of
morphemes of scent,
the head note, mid note, and heart note
forming footholds of syntax.
Please note that Arsenika is NOT eligible for the semiprozine or fanzine categories of the Hugo Award, as it has not yet the minimum issues requirement yet, but IS eligible, as far as I can tell, for the Magazine or Fanzine category of the Locus Award.
I am INELIGIBLE for the short form editor category of the Hugo Awards because I haven’t met the minimum issues requirement for the category; however, I AM eligible, as far as I can tell, for the Editor - Pro or Fan category of the Locus Award.
Thanks for your consideration and for taking the time to read my work!
Thumbnail photo by NASA.