You can now read a portion of Chapter 1 of Immunity Index at the Tor/Forge blog. It will be published on May 4: https://www.torforgeblog.com/2021/02/26/excerpt-immunity-index-by-sue-burke/

It’s not a sequel to Semiosis and Interference (the sequel, Usurpation, is on the way). Instead, this is the story of separated sisters, a virus, a rebellion — and a cantankerous woolly mammoth.

Inspired by this poem by Ross Gay: “To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian.”

Capricon is a Chicago science fiction convention. We come together for four days in February at a hotel convention center, and we call ourselves family, except that this year we did not come.

We met alone together, hundreds of us, with cameras and keyboards, and we recreated what we could. Art, games, panels, films, freebies, kids activities, the guy in the goat costume, other people in costumes, music, and parties, some including DJs, and of course the commemorative tee-shirt. It depicted a goat wearing a face mask.

At a science fiction convention, fans and authors, scientists and singers, costumers and gamers are the same, energized by ideas and expression. We gather to share our love for our mutual passions. It’s a tradition. This the forty-first annual Capricon.

With the freedom of non-meatspace we could welcome people from Vietnam and Brazil and Jamaica and Puerto Rico and thirty-eight states, not just Chicago and those who could travel. No hugs, but we enjoyed a wider horizon and intentional inclusion. We had special early hours so distant fans could share their dinner with our breakfast. Two hundred things were offered to do over a four-day weekend, including bartenders to help you mix your own drinks at home at the evening parties. The box fort got built. Bar Fleet had its discotheque, this time not crowded to sweaty capacity.

At a Zoom panel I ran, discussing the power of the short story, a viewer in the chat box told us a three-word story when we wondered how short a short story could be. He wrote, “Hindsight is 2020.” There’s a lot to unpack in that, but I just laughed, glad to be looking back.

Our convention had a theme: “Creating the Future We Want.” We talked about the future, about how it was made, both by intention and opportunity. We considered various futures after global warming. With or without police. With or without forgiveness. With enough room for a few grudges to hold their distance. With enough closeness to fill the space with thanks.

We tried so hard to have fun, to give each other fun, to be the family again.

Next year, our theme will be music and we plan to meet at a hotel already reserved, brick and mortar, flesh and blood. Next February, we will have the future we are working now to create. Sing us in, 2022.

As Charles Dickens wrote in A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

We’re doing it all over again, particularly that “epoch of belief” part. People are believing a whole lot of things. Why?

The world is a confusing place, and people want to make sense of it. As far as I can tell, some people are prone to believe the first explanation they find that seems to make sense — the very first explanation, and they stop right there, without asking if it’s a fully sensible.

It might be wiser to search for as many explanations as possible. If there are two or more sides to an issue, try to understand them all. Knowing multiple explanations might temper your belief. Can you accurately, even sympathetically, explain your opponents’ points of view? It’s easy to condemn what you do not understand.

As Mark Twain said, “If a cat sits on a hot stove, that cat won’t sit on a hot stove again. That cat won’t sit on a cold stove either.”

The cat doesn’t understand the whole situation and has an extreme belief about stoves.

***

My next novel, Immunity Index, goes on sale May 4.

Writing requires concentration. The past year has not been easy for concentration. Pandemic and politics clamored in the background, if not in the same room, incessantly.

A lot of writers had trouble, and I was among them. Doomscrolling may be bad for you, but the quality and quantity of the doom was exceptional. Besides distractions, I was often a little depressed as well. The author John Scalzi reports that he found early January particularly hard. Yes, it was.

Still, I managed to plug along this past year and this past month at reasonable rates of production. There’s one reason: for me, writing is an escape.

I was living in Madrid, Spain, when on the morning of March 11, 2004, terrorist bombs on commuter trains killed 193 people and injured about 2000. Three of the bombs exploded at Atocha train station within blocks of my house. I heard them. Sirens began wailing before 8 a.m. and continued constantly until 5 p.m.

The only emotional peace I had that day was when I opened up a manuscript and began writing, and suddenly I was far away in the future on a distant planet, working on the novel that became Semiosis. For several hours, I was elsewhere, thankfully.

Writing has been my form of self-care on other occasions, too. Words on paper or a screen have been my comfort in a hospital emergency waiting room or when I should have been sleeping but the night was too dark.

For other people, it will be different, as it should be. Our world is enriched by the variety of our individual strengths and weaknesses. The pull that writing has on me may be a weakness, not a strength, but it is my refuge, and I’m glad to have it. Still, I prefer to write because I want to write, not because I want to flee.

Self-care can include rewarding and enjoyable work. It can also include eating well, living in a clean environment, having a hobby (mine is cooking), organizing and planning your days, journaling, walking and exercising, and even delegating tasks to others.

What do you do to take care of yourself?

***

My next novel, Immunity Index, goes on sale May 4.

Capricon is a four-day science fiction convention held annually in the Chicagoland area since 1981. This year, its 41st iteration, will be held virtually with the theme “Creating the Future We Want.”

You can attend! Sign up and learn more here. Organizers ask you to pay at least $10 for the weekend, but if life hasn’t gone well lately, you can attend for free. I signed up for the premium level to help out, so be my guest.

Expect music, a dance, a cooking workshop, a game or two, an open mic, and parties, in addition to panels on all sorts of topics from silly to serious. Since the pandemic hit and life has moved online, science fiction conventions have steadily learned to use technology to create events that aren’t quite like being there in person but still might be the social highlight of your month.

I’m scheduled for four events:

Thursday, February 4, 6:00 to 6:30 p.m., reading. Science Fiction vs. Literary Fiction: Who’s in Control? I’ll read an essay that explores how and why the stories of science fiction tell an uncomfortable truth about what really matters.

Saturday, February 6, 5:00 to 6:00 p.m., panel. Information Please! Based on the 1930s radio quiz show, Information Please tries to stump a panel of experts with a wide variety of questions about science fiction and fantasy where the fun is listening to their discussions as much as seeing if you can figure out the answer first. Steven H Silver is moderating, and other panelists are Barbara Barnett, David Hirsch, and Gary K Wolfe.

Saturday, February 6, 7:00 to 8:00 p.m., panel. The Power of the Short Story. What makes the short story such a potent form? I will moderate. Panelists are Rowan Fixemer, Michael Haynes, Donna J.W. Munro, and Lucy A. Snyder.

Sunday, February 7, 1:00 to 2:00 p.m., panel. The Sapir Wharf Hypothesis and Dystopian Fiction. The Sapir Wharf Hypothesis proposes that the structure of language determines a native speaker’s perception and categorization of experience. Our panelists discuss how dystopian fiction uses the curtailing of language to curtail thought. Moderator is Isabel Schechter, and panelists are Geoff Strayer, Beverly Friend, and myself.

***

My next novel, Immunity Index, goes on sale May 4.