The State Street Robot Factory

I have a new story up at Apex! “The State Street Robot Factory” was initially written as dystopic near-future science fiction, but between the time I first drafted it and the time it was published, at least three of the science fiction elements have become reality. The dystopia was real all along. The last few years have been an exercise in resilience for far too many of us. I’m proud of us for hanging in there and even finding joy sometimes, and at the same time I deeply wish this resilience wasn’t so required, and ache for the people who aren’t as resilient, who have crumpled under the immense weight of these times. Resilience is a fascinating trait to me. It’s a skill, yes, but the only way to develop it is to experience unexpected, painful and traumatic things, and I can’t wish that on anyone. What resilience I have came at a high price, as I think it always does. It is not a choice, either: it’s often simply the only way forward through darkness. This story is about a small business owner dealing with an unforgiving marketplace and a tough season; it’s also about the dystopia of a […]

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Happy birthday, Mary

I just got the paycheque for “We Are the Flower“, the story I wrote for you. This post is going up a day late because I didn’t hit the Publish button! But I know you would forgive me for that, as you and all my friends have forgiven me for never being a birthday-rememberer. Ever since 2016, when Spells of Blood and Kin was published and the US election exposed cultural progress as the frail thing it is, in need of constant action and support, I’ve been in the privileged position of being able to donate all of my short story income to causes I support. The #FictionFightsBack initiative kicked it off for me and I’ve kept up the habit. The arrival of this money in my account was particularly well timed, Mary, because it would have been your birthday, and we had a Zoom call with some of your dearest ones who confirmed to me that you would have loved to see this donation go to the Movement for Black Lives. So there it has gone. I miss you a lot. We used to joke that when you were away it was my job to be the weird one […]

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“We Are the Flower”

It’s been ages since I’ve had a new story out! Writing moves in uneven cycles sometimes. Some stories take years to finish and sell, while others are born fully formed and land with the right editor immediately. I’ve been doing this long enough that I don’t worry about slow periods – but I do love the times when I have something new to announce. “We Are the Flower” is up at Podcastle, read gorgeously by Jen Albert. The whole Podcastle team is a delight to work with, and they produce a steady stream of fascinating and high quality stories. This one, I have to warn you, is a bit of a tear-jerker. I wrote it for my friend Mary, who passed away unexpectedly and tragically. Mary was a dear friend and also a wonderfully kind and supportive reader of my work, and I had been planning on writing a story just for her. Right now, in the middle of the ultimate demonstration of how our plans can be swept away, seems like a fine time for this story to meet the world. […]

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Journal of the Plague Year

Since I last posted here, the world has utterly changed. I travel a lot. I used to travel a lot. For years I’ve joked that being Canadian is great when you don’t have to deal with winter. Winter, for me in these years, was a few scattered weeks at home, between trips to warmer places: sometimes holiday places, sometimes my routine business trips to London, Knoxville, New York, none of which experience much snow. My last trip was to a beach town, for a writing retreat. The town’s season hadn’t yet begun and we felt mostly alone on this expanse of sand. We knew about the virus, enough to bring sanitizer and wash our hands a lot, but we hadn’t even heard the phrase “social distancing” yet, flights were still operating normally and a gathering of friends was still a perfectly fine thing to do. It seems like forever ago. But it was the beginning of March. My original plan had been to fly home from this retreat, unpack, repack, and fly out again the next day for London, where I’d be attending London Book Fair: five days, thirty meetings, countless handshakes and cheek kisses in a normal time. But […]

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Capricon!

Chicago-area folks: I’m going to be visiting you Feb 13-16 for Capricon. Looking forward to meeting some new people and seeing some old friends! Here’s where you can find me: Friday, 10 am: Nonfiction for Fiction Writers, Botanic A We often hear writers advised to read widely, both in and out of our genre. What are some kinds of nonfiction reading that can help broaden your fiction writing? Our panelists recommend memoirs, history, cookbooks, podcasts, subreddits, true crime, whatever else has caught their interest and driven them to write more deeply. Friday, 11:30 am: Sportsball!, Botanic A The nerd/jock divide isn’t as much of a thing as it used to be (if it ever really was!). Many of us are sports fans in addition to being fans of media, culture and literature. Let’s talk about the sports we love, how we were introduced to them, and how our multiple fandoms interact. Friday, 2:30 pm: Beers from the Tropics, Food Room 1509 George Hodgson, a London brewer in the late 1700s, used his connections to the East India Co. to dominate the export market to the colony. Among other beers, Hodgson exported a strong pale ale brewed with extra additions of […]

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Here’s a poem I found in my drafts

“The Nearby Death” The nearby death is an EMP. You go dark and silent. You, and you, and everyone in range. Your functions shut down. This is simple.  The simplest. All the noise goes quiet. Remember where you were. Remember where she was, at the epicentre. Her loss, the pulse. Here is the pause. Remember where you are. Your generator, here: You left it ready for this. You knew this dark would come. Fire it with your arm. Its fuel is old and stale. It makes noise and light. You make light, with your body, with your old and filthy fuel. Start up again. […]

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Really getting to like this Sunburst thing…

The 2018 Sunburst longlist is up, and I’m on it again–this time for my short story “Yellowcat”, a sort of literary horror story that found a home with Grain Magazine.  It’s actually not available to read online: Grain is a print-only magazine, and a lovely one, which you should definitely consider buying. Other people on this year’s longlist include so many wonderful fellow travelers, including Kari Maaren, Rati Mehrotra, Sandra Kasturi, Kate Heartfield, Kate Story, Fonda Lee, Lesley Livingston and Terri Favro: all fantastic writers with whom I’m so grateful to share a community and the occasional drink. It’s been ten years since I began writing (!) and every time something goes well for me, a nice review, an award or nomination, I feel humbled by the quality of the work I see around me, joyful to be considered in the same breath, and delighted by the many organizations and individuals dedicated to raising the profile of the work we do. To all of you who read, review, share, post, and talk about stories: thank you! […]

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2017 in Stories

It’s that writerly tradition: the year-end post!  I don’t always make one, but I usually wish I had.  This year I received the gift of an unexpected day off from work and I’m going to make the most of it! 2017 short fiction from me, which I hope you’ll kindly consider when making your award nominations: “Wooden Boxes Lined with the Tongues of Doves”, Beneath Ceaseless Skies: a bleak and difficult start to the year, even more than usual for my work. This story doesn’t make it easy for the reader. “Dinners in Wartime”, Liminal: this one’s also quite bleak, inspired by the suicide of someone I cared about. Trigger warning, friends; I don’t know if this story’s emotional payload will hit you the way it hit me to write, but please take care of yourselves.  “Yellowcat”, Grain Magazine: not actually available to read online so you’ll have to trust me on how fantastic it is! “Le lundi de la matraque (Nightstick Monday)”, Strange Horizons: Immortal screwup Gus Hillyard returns in this story of a violent moment in Canadian history. Gus is always willing to take up someone else’s fight, and not always able to tease out who’s right or […]

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Still riding that win…

Yes, that’s me, accepting my Sunburst Award from chair Rebecca Simkin (who is wonderful even apart from the fact that she has just handed me a medal and a cheque).  I am, once again, so thrilled to be honoured this way.  The other works and writers who have been recognized with this award are beyond amazing! Since I believe in celebrating wins when we get’em, I wore my medal all night at the bar.  (I may or may not have worn it to bed.) This win is a very happy ending for Spells of Blood and Kin.  It’s not totally an ending, of course–it remains in print and on sale in stores–but unless there’s a movie deal or something (hi, producers! You’re all reading this, right?) it will take a back seat to newer works.  Some of those newer works will also be written by me (uh, not right away, but watch this space). I won’t be a debut novelist next time around.  I’ll be a grizzled veteran (not a metaphor…you should see how much grey hair I have now).  I can’t wait. 2017 has treated a lot of us roughly, I have to say, but I’m coming out of […]

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2017 Sunburst Awards

I started writing Spells of Blood and Kin ages ago: 2008, the year I attended the Viable Paradise writing workshop.  Nine years. Nine years ago, I had just lost my father.  I was trying to write something light, something to distract myself from loss and difficulty.  I should have known I didn’t work that way, but it took me a while to understand.  When I did, the book I ended up writing was pretty different. Today, I won the Sunburst Award for that book.  In the jury’s statement, one bit really stood out to me:“Humphrey’s use of a real, contemporary Canadian setting and her refusal to allow her characters any easy victories set this novel apart from a field of strong competitors.”  Italics mine.  I was going to say easy victories aren’t a thing I understand, but I do understand that this is a matter of perspective and privilege.  I also understand that the victories that we treasure are the ones for which we worked, and it’s true that the characters in this book work hard for the comparatively small victories they manage.  This felt true to me when I was writing it, and still today.This particular victory, then, feels incredibly satisfying […]

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