“En Paz” — two translations

Because “En Paz” is my husband’s favorite poem, I read it at a recent open mic here in Chicago, along with my two translations. The poem is by Amado Nervo, a Mexican poet, and it’s one of his most beloved poems, published in 1916.

My first translation aimed at keeping the meter and rhyme of the original poem. Then I thought it might be a bit sing-song, and I had to force a few meanings to make it rhyme, so I made a second translation that hewed close to the original. At the reading, people had mixed opinions about which one they preferred. How about you?

En paz

Muy cerca de mi ocaso, yo te bendigo, vida,
porque nunca me diste ni esperanza fallida,
ni trabajos injustos, ni pena inmerecida;

porque veo al final de mi rudo camino
que yo fui el arquitecto de mi propio destino;

que si extraje la miel o la hiel de las cosas,
fue porque en ellas puse hiel o mieles sabrosas:
cuando planté rosales, coseché siempre rosas.

…Cierto, a mis lozanías va a seguir el invierno:
¡mas tú no me dijiste que mayo fuese eterno!

Hallé sin duda largas las noches de mis penas;
mas no me prometiste tú sólo noches buenas;
y en cambio tuve algunas santamente serenas...

Amé, fui amado, el sol acarició mi faz.
¡Vida, nada me debes! ¡Vida, estamos en paz!


At Peace

So close now to my sunset, life, I bless you,
you never gave me hopes that were untrue,
nor unjust labor, nor suffering undue;

at the end of my rough road I see
I was architect of my destiny;

Wherever I put ice in things, they froze,
when I wanted honey, its sweets I chose:
my rosebushes always grew me a rose.

…True, winter will follow my endeavor:
but you never said springtime was forever!

Indeed, I spent some long nights lost in woe;
but you never pledged just comfort to bestow;
and yet some nights I thrilled beneath moonglow…

I loved, was loved, in sunshine found release.
Life, you owe me nothing. Life, we are at peace!


At Peace

Very close to my sunset, I bless you, life,
because you never gave me false hope,
nor unjust troubles, nor undeserved blame;

because I see at the end of my hard path
that I was architect of my own destiny;

that if I took honey or ice from things,
it was because I put ice or delicious honey in them:
when I planted rose bushes, I always harvested roses.

…True, my youth will be followed by winter:
but you never told me May would last eternal!

I encountered of course some long nights of sorrows;
but you never promised me only good nights;
and on the other hand, I had some sacredly serene…

I loved, was loved, and the sun caressed my face.
Life, you owe me nothing! Life, we are at peace!

My votes for the Hugo Best Novelette Award

This year’s Hugo Awards will be presented at the Seattle Worldcon on Saturday evening, August 16.

Like other categories, novelettes have some overlap with this year’s Nebula Awards. Here are my ranked votes, and I based them on how original I thought the stories are. You may very reasonably have different criteria and choices. In fact, these two  reviewers made very different rankings.

6. “Signs of Life” by Sarah Pinsker (Uncanny Magazine, Issue 59) — Two sisters reconcile after a long estrangement, each with her own secrets. A slow, personal story that takes a surprising turn toward the end, but for me, the emotions are too muted.

5. “Loneliness Universe” by Eugenia Triantafyllou (Uncanny Magazine, Issue 58) — Friends try to meet, but they can’t find each other even though they’re in the same place. Then things get more eerie (no spoilers). Not quite horror but very unsettling.

4. “Lake of Souls” by Ann Leckie in Lake of Souls (Orbit) — A denizen of a distant planet suffers a crisis of identity and a planetary explorer struggles to survive. They meet, and this changes some things. Not a new idea, and in my opinion not developed in a new direction.

3. “The Four Sisters Overlooking the Sea” by Naomi Kritzer (Asimov’s, September/October 2024) — Every now and then, Asimov’s publishes a story that isn’t exactly science fiction. A woman takes a hard look at her life and must set it right, but I saw the ending from a long way off.

2. “By Salt, By Sea, By Light of Stars” by Premee Mohamed (Strange Horizons, Fund Drive 2024) — A wizard gets an apprentice, but there’s a problem — a monster-sized dragon problem. Well told with a little humor.

1. “The Brotherhood of Montague St. Video” by Thomas Ha (Clarkesworld, May 2024) — The accidental discovery of a book printed on paper triggers an existential crisis in an electronic world with constant volatility. The understated storytelling style effectively delivers growing horror.

My votes for the Hugo Short Story Award

This year’s Hugo Awards will be presented at the Seattle Worldcon on Saturday evening, August 16. The short story category, as usual, has some overlap with this year’s Nebula Awards, and if you read no other short fiction, I recommend reading the nominated stories. You’ll come away with an excellent panorama of where the field is today.

Here are my votes, and I based them on the storytelling risks and successes. You may very reasonably have different criteria and choices.

6. “Marginalia” by Mary Robinette Kowal (Uncanny Magazine, Issue 56) — The story is based on drawings of knights fighting snails in medieval manuscript margins, which is a charming inspiration: What if knights really fought snails? A struggling family joins with their lord in a fight to the death. The story wraps up too neatly for me, so it comes in sixth, but other Hugo voters loved it.

5. “Five Views of the Planet Tartarus” by Rachael K. Jones (Lightspeed Magazine, January 2024: Issue 164) — This is flash fiction about the horrors faced by those found guilty of treason, with an ennobling, subversive twist. I especially like that very short fiction has found its way onto the ballot.

4. “Stitched to Skin Like Family Is” by Nghi Vo (Uncanny Magazine, Issue 57) — The magic contained in clothing leads a sister to her brother, then gives her power. Carefully and competently told, and Nghi Vo’s love of old (vintage?) clothes and their histories shines through.

3. “Three Faces of a Beheading” by Arkady Martine (Uncanny Magazine, Issue 58) — A convoluted story about complicity in a genocide told through multiple points of view in a multi-player RPG and mass storytelling. I admire the experimental style, even if it was confusing.

2. “We Will Teach You How to Read | We Will Teach You How to Read” by Caroline M. Yoachim (Lightspeed Magazine, May 2024: Issue 168) — A message is sent apparently to humans from a very different, brief-lived species: a simple message that holds entire lives. This is another experimental format, and it left me with a lot to think about.

1. “Why Don’t We Just Kill the Kid in the Omelas Hole” by Isabel J. Kim (Clarkesworld, February 2024) — I nominated this for the strength of the storytelling voice, and after reading all the finalists I still like it best: “… tell me there is a better solution than putting one single kid in the hole, and letting that one single kid have a miserable life, in return for the good lives of all of our children?” The story has already won the Nebula, Locus, and BSFA awards, and I think it’s a strong contender for the Hugo. It’s an update on the classic Ursula K. Le Guin story, which also won awards when it was published in 1974. A half-century later, even though our exact circumstances have changed, we still have to make tough moral choices.

A Few Varieties and Secrets of Drafts and Outlines

Fiction writers have an ongoing debate about whether or not to plot: that is, whether to use an outline. But outlines and drafts come in many varieties, which complicates the debate. Here’s everything I know about outlines and drafts condensed into handy bullet points (itself a kind of outline), which I hope will be helpful to you.

Why outline?

• Ideas for novels are too big to hold in your head all at once; you need some sort of notes.

• You might be able to write faster using an outline.

• Outlines can let you write less anxiously because you know what will happen next.

• Outlines are a “big picture” tool to help you revise/re-envision your story for subsequent drafts.

• Leonardo da Vinci used outlines when he painted; this is a respectable artistic tool.

Why avoid outlines?

• Your brain simply doesn’t work that way; you can do just fine without one.

• You lack experience using this tool, so it’s hard to figure out and feels uncomfortable.

A few kinds of outlines

• Three-act structure

• Save the Cat formula

• Romance novel formula

• Scrivener or other software

• 3 x 5 cards or Post-It Notes

• Pictures/scrapbook/artwork/poems

• Spreadsheets/charts/maps

• Hero’s Journey

• Heroine’s Journey

• Fool’s Journey

• Beat Sheets

• Snowflake method

• East Asian four-act kishōtenketsu

• Detailed scene-by-scene

• General chapter-by-chapter

• Character driven

• Theme or narrative focused

• Crisis or paradox centered

• A series of questions

• A series of causes and effects

• Continuous re-evaluation

• Joyous amalgam of all these

Some secrets to using an outline as a writing tool

• You can make an outline at any time: before, during, or after any draft or part of a draft.

• Your outline can be a simple list of beats, plot twists, or key scenes.

• The plot outline is not the manuscript outline, which might not be chronological or logical.

• There is no Platonic ideal story; a story can take different forks in the road along the way.

• You can begin plotting from the end, middle, or beginning of the story.

• Any single step or couple of steps of a standard plot outline can be a short story.

Kinds of drafts

• Zero draft, a wildly experimental initial draft that doesn’t “count” as a first draft.

• Dialog-only draft, with the rest to be filled in during subsequent drafts.

• Disconnected scenes, to be connected in a later draft.

• Fast drafting, writing as quickly as possible without looking back, NaNoWriMo-style.

• Writing each scene as a short story.

• Messy, ugly, crappy early drafts; only the final draft needs to be beautiful.

Exercise: a tiny outline

Summarize your story in three three-word sentences. Such as, for a romance: 1. Girl meets boy. 2. Girl loses boy. 3. Girl wins boy. Or for Hamlet: 1. Hamlet has doubts. 2. Doubts are resolved. 3. Hamlet gets revenge. Does your story have a beginning, middle, and end?

(This post is available as a one-page PDF here.)

My vote for the Nebula Award for Short Story

Each year, the members of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association choose the winners of the Nebula Awards in seven categories, including short story (fewer than 7500 words). As a member, I can vote for the one I consider most deserving. Voting is closed, and the awards will be presented on June 7.

All these short stories are high quality and worthy of nomination, so your choice may very reasonably differ from mine:

The Witch Trap” by Jennifer Hudak (Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet 9/24) — An old charm against witches inspires a reconsideration of the way that the fear of witches creates witches. Reconsideration, the story makes clear, might not be a bad thing.

Five Views of the Planet Tartarus” by Rachael K. Jones (Lightspeed 1/24) — Flash fiction about horrors faced by those found guilty of treason, with an ennobling, subversive twist.

Evan: A Remainder” by Jordan Kurella (Reactor 1/31/24) — A man who recently transitioned slowly comes to terms with his new identity. This involves coughing up a new skeleton (this is not a spoiler). Although it is tender, beautiful, and heartfelt, I think it’s literary fiction because the “magic” is wholly symbolic, not science fiction or fantasy — you may reasonably disagree, of course. While the lines between genres are always permeable and debatable, I think the Nebulas ought to stick to actual SFF. Literary writing has its own awards.

The V*mpire” by PH Lee (Reactor 10/23/24) — A vulnerable adolescent on Tumbler gets bullied into letting monsters into his home. This story may be more metaphor than actual fantasy, but it’s brilliantly written, and the toxic manipulation involved is heartbreaking to witness.

We Will Teach You How to Read | We Will Teach You How to Read” by Caroline M. Yoachim (Lightspeed 5/24) — A message is sent apparently to humans from a very different, brief-lived species: a simple message that holds entire lives. The story is told in a successfully experimental format, and it left me with a lot to think about.

My vote: “Why Don’t We Just Kill the Kid in the Omelas Hole” by Isabel J. Kim (Clarkesworld 2/24) — I nominated this for the strength of the storytelling voice, and after reading all the finalists I still like it best: “… tell me there is a better solution than putting one single kid in the hole, and letting that one single kid have a miserable life, in return for the good lives of all of our children?” Moral certainty is so messy, but at least the kid in the hole can be ethically sourced.