Night of the Rogue Alien

It was a dark and stormy night in Fredericton, but surprisingly calm and bright along the Pacific Rim where pure evil seethed in the juices of its own diabolical other-worldliness. This authentic and completely unretouched photo taken by a qualified photojournalist with excellent credentials shows the abominable abduction of the Brydone Jack Observatory by unidentified flying aliens. Many qualified photojournalists with excellent credentials lost their lives delivering the photo to this blog.

It was still dark and stormy in Fredericton when Betty and Arnold Ketchum, while strolling their dog for its evening constitutional in the Himalayan Mountains happened across this terrifying scene of alien vandalism. The Ketchums reported the incident and diplomats were dispatched to dislodge the building and return it to the UNB campus where it will be used for Biff Mitchell’s workshop on Science Fiction and CyberPunk.

Aliens Ate My Brain

I finally managed to dig up some pics of the outside of the Brydone Jack Observatory, and I think these particular pics spell out the appropriateness of using this building for the workshop on science fiction and cyberpunk.

It’s a little known fact that the Brydone Jack Observatory has been the target of repeated alien invasions ever since Professor Jack had his brain removed by aliens way back at the beginning of history. Jack survived and went on to prevent a war from breaking out between New Brunswick and Maine that had been brewing since 1842.

However, his addition of a third story to the Old Arts Building caused concern among the aliens who feared an invasion of space if the addition of additional floors to the building were to continue.

This prompted an brief invasion of the Brydone Jack Observatory at some unspecified date in which an alien death ray killed several rafter rats in the eaves of the Observatory.

This unadultered photograph shows the merciless invasion and massacre of four rafter rats at an unspecified period in history. Shown in the background is the Old Arts Building sans the much disputed and rarely quoted projected fourth floor which would have put Earth in an advantageous position for the invasion of space.

This genuine photograph shows Brydone Jack returning to earth several years after his death to polish the brass on the telescope he so dearly cherished.

Night of the Wild Bolognie

Forget Hollywood North ... let's talk Hollywood Northeast, in particular that quaint place north of Maine called New Brunswick, home of fiddleheads, the world's worst drivers, and the NB Film Co-op which, this past weekend sponsored Remote Control: A Symposium on the State of Independent Media Art in Atlantic Canada.

Unfortunately, my elbow fell off so I missed all but the last event, an open forum called Bridges and Barriers: Strategies for Presenting Independent Media Art in Atlantic Canada. Yeah, I know ... big long titles. Scary stuff to ward off the likes of those who prefer their titles short ... like Where's the Bloody Audience?

Nothing's ever simple in the Mysterious East, but I did hear a few good suggestions like creating venues for artists to talk about their work. This one works well for me. They do it at the Silver Wave Film Festival, not during the film screenings, but in the bar venue afterwards where you can get drunk with the producers, directors and performers and peer deep into their souls. But this is just once a year, and I like to get drunk frequently and peer into the souls of filmmakers.

And then, of course, there's the problem with getting the local media to pay less attention to Anglina Jolie and more attention to local filmmakers. Don't hold your breath waiting on this one though. You'll read about local filmmakers in the local media only after they've done something in Hollywood.

One member of the audience had what I thought was a good suggestion: Instead of developing local audiences, develop communities of interest. I like this idea. It has a ring of beer and soul-peering to it. Almost a social platform to support the art.

The same fellow suggested that part of the problem was in the attitude of media artists toward the public. He was immediately shot. There is no problem here, folks. Media artists love us all. I'm not a media artist myself, but there were all manner of media artists smiling all over me and saying: "We love you, Biff. So we're not going to feed you to the Wild Bolongie."

Yes, there was Wild Bolognie. In fact, moderator Catherine Martin even showed a movie about this cruel non-Swiss annual ritual. Bridget Bardot stormed the room, but she was immediately shot. And with that ... here's what the event looked like ...

Panelist Andrea Butler describes her close encounter with a Wild Bolognie on her way to the Charlotte Street Art Center. Panelists Judith Scherer, Pamela Edmonds and Tony Merzetti don’t believe a word she’s saying, but they’re playing along with her.

Moderator Catherine Martin filmed live Wild Bolognie and was the one who immediately shot Bridette Bardot (to ringing applause, I might add … and then everyone else took turns … it was definitely a Roadhouse moment). She along with Melanie Chaisson and Erin Oakes believe every word of Andrea’s story. Mireille Bourgeois attempts to escape the brutal horror of the story by seeking inner peace.

In this shot, Mireille freezes in abject horror as a Wild Bolognie prepares to pounce on the unidentified back-of-head to which she’s been talking.

Shortly after shooting Bardot, members of the audience discuss theories about what to do with the body.

Melanie suggests progressive paper cuts until there’s nothing left to cut. The general theory was that this seems to be working quite well for making the CBC disappear.

Melanie accuses audience member (and filmmaker) Andrea of having an affair with a Wild Bolognie, but Andrea denies everything. However, the insert shows an affectionate Wild Bolgonie bite taken earlier in the day. Andrea was immediately shot.

Gia’s head was bitten off by a Wild Bolognie hiding under the table. However, on-the-spot surgery was performed and spirits for the remainder of the symposium were remarkably bright.

Science Fiction in the Observatory Part 2

Looks like I'm back online to upload pics. Read the story in the previous blog. Here's the pictorial.

This is the leprechaun that haunts the Brydone Jack Observatory. We may have to feed one or more writers to him. Everyone is responsible for bringing their own mustard and relish.

This is the telescope. It eats leprechauns. If you feel threatened, run to the telescope.

This is a mechanism. We may actually write about it.

This is the view through one of the Obvservatory windows. It's not raining. It just looks that way ever since the building was frozen in time on a rainy day. We may write about this.

Soon to come ... a picture of the outside of the building. If I remember to put the card back in my camera, don't run out of batteries, remember to take the cap off the lens, remember to take my camera ... well, maybe not so soon.

Science Fiction in Canada's Oldest Observatory

Canada's coolest English prof gave me a tour of the coooooooolest setting for a workshiop in scifi and cyberpunk yesterday. It's the Byrdone Jack Observatory on the UNB campus ... the oldest observatory on the planet ... within the geographic bounds of what is commonly referred to as Canada ... which is a place where everybody smiles because of Medicare. Just step into Maine, walk North ... you can't miss it. Beavers will greet you at the border. They'll be smiling.

So ... the Observatory was built in 1851 and is currently the flagship project in Canada's take-over-space-before-the-Leaf's-win-the-Stanley-Cup Program. It's a long-term thing. Some might call it a very long term thing. But the program is currently on sabbatical somewhere South of some border or other and they're letting me use the building to subject my scifi and cyberpunk (and maybe we'll even throw in a little urban fantasy ... and maybe some other stuff) writers to all manner of cruel devices to get them on the road to publication.

Unfortunately, they won't let me bring in my oriental weapons collection, but I have other ways. I have a gay cat,Pico. He hates my guts and tries to kill me each night by stuffing wads of paper into my ears. I've learned terrible things from him. Terrible literary things guaranteed to grab onto the inner writer and squeeze it into something people can read.

Here's what it looks like from the outside until I can get a better picture ... or remember to, like, take a picture of the outside of the place where I'll be subjecting innocents to all manner of unnatural cause and effect.

Here's a history of the Observatory. Click on the pic to read it.

This is what a picture of the universe looked like before you were born. You'll get to see more of these in the workshop. I may even ask you to make sense of them ... and then write about them in very speculative fashion.

And now, for some reason, Blogger won't let me upload anymore photos, so I'll get back ... hmm ... maybe tomorrow.

Don't Dream It - Write It!

Just a reminder that I'll be giving a workshop on science fiction and cyberpunk at the Maritime Writers' Workshop July 9-14. This will include one-one-one work with participants' writing, workshops on character and scene development specificially for scifi and cyberpunk (and fantasy, as well), and lots more. Participants have to submit 5 - 10 pages of manuscript on anything they want ... this is just for me to get an idea where they need help.

If you want to bring out the writer inside, just call 506-453-4623 or send an email to rhanson@unb.ca. Spaces are filling up fast, so if you want to see "your" name in print someday, take the leap now. If you have friends who are interested in writing but need polishing, or just need to know where to start, forward this to them.

I'll also be giving a pre-conference workshop on ePublishing and eMarketing in a Digital World. This is for anyone who's interested in having anything published (novels, short stories, biographies, children's books, travel books, essays, business books, text books, cartoon books ... you name it). If your manuscript is ready to go, you may very well have it published and up for sale on the Internet by the end of the session. Call or email above for more information.

Time to stop talking about writing that book ... and start writing it.

Biff
Silence says it all.

Maritime Writers' Workshop and Literary Festival Blog

Renaissance in Short Story Interest Sees Short Fiction from Biff Mitchell Published at Fictionwise

(PRWEB) June 12, 2006 -- Ebooks and handheld reading devices such as phones and PDAs have spurred a new interest in short fiction, but the real force behind the movement comes from massive online ebook distributors like Fictionwise where readers can buy and instantly download individual short stories. Author Biff Mitchell has seven of his stories available at Fictionwise and he believes this is the way readers will be getting their reading materials almost exclusively in the near future.

Read the full story at PRWeb.

Written over a ten year period, the last section was written while the author was working at a bar, passing pages to customers to read as they were written. The last page was written five years later.

Set on the banks of the Oromocto River, this story proves that the author should stick to satire and humor and avoid romance (with, of course, the exception of laundromances).

Set in Molly's Coffee House in downtown Fredericton, Still Life with Muse and Sax, was written exclusively under the influence of Miles Davis.

As of this writing, Surfing in Catal Hyuk is a bestseller at Fictionwise's sister site, EPIC, in the mainstream section.

West Long Lake Water Sirens

Stories of sirens have chilled sailors since the beginning of myth. They would lure the unwary into watery death with their mystical songs, but not until they had their way with them. Yeah, the dirt between the lines. Gotta give them singing fools something to sing about and I challenge anyone to call me on this. Just show me the otherwise proof.

But sirens don't just adorn the wavelets of the briny seas, some are closer to home. Land-bound on the rock gardens of New Brunswick's wilderness lakes, singing their alluring songs to the ... and get this ... unwary young lady paddlers.

Yes, New Brunswick (think of a place North of Florida, South of The Shipping News) has spawned the Lady Enrapturing Lake Siren that sings its songs in a semi-Elvis don't-you-step-on-my-blue-suede-fin motif that draws only the most beautiful women into the acid-rain-soaked-depths and forces them into all manner of uncivil acts before turning them into ... yes ... another rock in the garden.

In a recent canoeing trip on West Long Lake, Nanook of the Nashwaak (author of Reach Out and Touch a Rock), John Heinstein (author of The Cheap Red Wine Manifesto) and I encountered one of these magic music critters and we actually got a photo. I must warn you, though ... gazing on this creature of the Long Lake depths may severely alter the way you feel about recreational drugs, so view with caution.

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I'm not joking.

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You've been warned.

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Too late!

Photo by John Heinstein.

World's First Umbrella Reading Largely Unnoticed

"Mommy! Who's that strange looking man by the fountain?" asked young Jimmy.

"Don't look at him young Jimmy, you might provoke him," said Mommy.

"Is he one of those commie hippie weirdos that Daddy says are turning the world into poo?"

"Yes, he is, dear. Now hurry, we don't want to miss target practice."

Yep, ees tough to be a writer in Fredericton, man. But that's OK. I had the rapt attention of three beautiful woman of indeterminate ancient origin, and I'm certain I saw a stoney smile or two as I read about them coming to life and spreading havoc throughout the downtown core of Freddie Beach.

Next on the agenda ... a story about Pan at the top of the fountain in front of City Hall.

World's First Outdoor Umbrella Reading

OK. So it's supposed to rain again this Sunday. Well, I don't care .... I'm going to read my Ladies of the Fountain story rain or shine. I promised the ladies I would do it, and you don't break a promise to statues, especially when you've written about them coming to life.

If it rains, then I'll be there - story in one hand, umbrella in the other - reading to the ladies. I owe them that.

This Sunday. 2 PM. By the fountain on The Green. Rain or shine.

Read the stuff below for more.

Reading in the Rain

It was a dark and stormy morning when there came a knock at the door.

"Knock, knock," said the door.

"Who's there?" said Pico, Biff's gay cat.

"It's the police," said a voice with much police-like authority.

The door opened. Two police officers held a sodden and unkempt Biff between them. The Biff looked half dead and smiled at a skewed angle, like something that might congeal at the bottom of an abandoned bowl of alphabet soup.

"Is this yours?" said one of the officers.

Pico regarded that dripping mess of Biff and thought about the time it refused to feed him a ladybug. "No ... I've never seen it before," said Pico, and slammed the door.

Yes, a true story. But I survived and returned home. Pico is in a burlap bag in the trunk of my car while I decide what to do with him. I made it to the Boyce Market and gave away book marks, posters and brochures. I even had a brief audience and read a story, but most people weren't really into listening to a dowsed writer reading in the rain.

It doesn't look all that wet in this picture of me reading to the only two people of the day interested in hearing a story. (Actually, I had to hit them over the head with heavy objects and tie them up.) The rain picked up momentum shortly after and continued to grow increasingly wet and rain-like until, by 1:30 I pulled up by the fountain at The Green and it was a dark and stormy afternoon. I parked by the fountain for a few minutes and then wandered mindlessly through the jungle of downtown Fredericton until the police picked me up and tried to pawn me off on my cat.

But I just checked the long range weather. It looks like next Sunday will be cloudy, but dry. I think I'll go for just the reading of Ladies of the Fountain, and I'll do it on The Green, by the fountain, under the cloudy dry sky. At 2:00 PM.

There will be free book marks, posters and pennies. And BTW, please remember that this story is for adults only. It contains strong language, sexually explicit content, and naked pictures of my gay cat Pico. Or something like that. You can read the first few paragraphs for yourself (if you have a PDF reader) here. If you haven't taken the photo tour, just scroll down to the previous post.

See you there.