amelia beamer

Archive by Author

“Celia” Gets Love

Posted 17 November 2014 | By | Categories: Media | No Comments

I am honored that my short story “Celia and the Conservation of Entropy”, in Issue 1 of Uncanny, is getting rave reviews. I’m reading the story in the December Uncanny podcast, which also has an interview with me talking about Celia, nostalgia and humor in science fiction, the years I spent as a digital nomad, and other things. The issue is on sale now and will be available for free in the beginning of December at, and the podcast will also be out in December.

From the io9 Story of the Week for Nov 1-8:

…If time loops and paradoxes and relativity make your head ache, this might not be the story for you. I love this stuff. And I love it when authors play around with implications of time travel that have nothing to do with grand, sweeping adventures but instead focus on the little things. Like going back in time to see a grandparent who died before you could remember them. Or rescuing his long lost novel….

From a review by Scotchfrye:

…If you’re a fan of time travel fic, you’ll love this. Beamer treats the mechanics of time travel with a light hand, giving the reader just enough to make the story’s conceit believable without drowning the reader in theoretical physics. At the same time, there is plenty about time travel that young Celia doesn’t know or understand herself, and it is a treat to follow along with her as she figures it out (or doesn’t). The narrative perspective of a teenage girl is not treated cheaply or patronizingly; the image of Celia as a girl playing with science is never the punchline, and for that I thank Beamer. And if, like me, you enjoy time travel paradox stories, this is a must-read; the cleverest part of the story is not the paradox itself, which is clever nonetheless, but the way in which Celia picks her way through it (or doesn’t).

Readers of a certain age–those, I think, of Celia’s parents’ age, as I am–will especially love this story. Her travels back and forth, from our future to our past, give a fresh and very funny perspective on technology and our relationship to it. It’s a smart look at how much today’s digital cyborgs have in common with yesterday’s analog ones….


Archive by Author

Writing process blog tour

Posted 19 May 2014 | By | Categories: Blog tour | No Comments

The charming Valya Dudycz Lupescu invited me to participate in a blog tour about craft. Valya’s the author of Amazon bestselling novel,  The Silence of Trees, and founding editor of Conclave: A Journal of Character. Her comic, STICKS & BONES was crowdfunded by Kickstarter and picked up by First Comics. You can read her answers on her website.

Here are my answers.

1. What am I working on?

I am revising a near future science fiction novel about a family on Mars that I wrote at a public library in Australia. It’s fun and gentle and it’s called The Long Hour. A colony on Mars is funded in part by reality TV shows, people are addicted to music, an alien object shows up and only a kid can get it to work, stuff like that.

I’m also about halfway through writing a contemporary fantasy novel called Bad Guys, which is about elves and artists and magic in rural Iceland. I spent some time in Iceland this past summer and so the details are quite real: 24 hour daylight, volcanoes in the distance, geothermally-heated water, sheep with horns, stories about outlaws.

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I like to think that my work is really funny. My first novel The Loving Dead has a lot to do with zombies, and for as hilarious as zombies are, I haven’t seen a lot of humorous literature about them. I also try to portray people as realistically and honestly as I can, which means you might not like them. 

3. Why do I write what I do?

Science fiction, fantasy, and horror are more real to me than fiction that limits itself to mundane experiences. If my work can make people laugh, inspire nightmares, or keep a reader from being bored on an airplane, I’ve done my job.

4. How does your writing process work?

The term “writing process” is a bit generous for what I do, as it implies intent and structure. I get into phases where I write every day, and that’s the best. In between I have phases where my energy goes towards paying the bills and my other creative endeavors, and I maybe only make notes or write a little bit. There’s also the fermentation periods between finishing a book and revising it. I’m finding that some time away is really useful.

Next up look for Ken Scholes to answer these questions on Monday May 26. Ken is the award-winning and critically acclaimed author of over forty short stories and four novels with work appearing both in the US and abroad.

Archive by Author

What I learned from giving away my first novel

Posted 28 April 2014 | By | Categories: Books, Publishing, The Loving Dead, The Loving Dead Online Serial | No Comments

In 2010 I serialized my first novel The Loving Dead on my website, before giving e-books away on Amazon was a common strategy. The industry belief at the time had been that anyone who read a book for free would have no reason to buy it, and so you’d kill your market.

But my publisher and I were impressed by people like Cory Doctorow giving away their books, so we decided it was a risk worth taking. The novel did well and Barnes & Noble has since called it one of the top zombie novels of the past decade.

What I learned is how the publishing industry has become personal. I also talk about an incident involving free bacon.

Information wants to be free. It also wants to be personal.

As a debut novelist I was bonecrushingly anxious about my book getting attention. I feared it being made fun of or worse, being ignored. I’ve since accepted that I’ll be writing regardless of what happens with the publishing industry, but I want to have a career.

And for me, reading has always been personal. I read author bios. I read the acknowledgements. I want to know who these people are and how they got there.

These days, publishers expect authors to be personally and socially available. Readers expect it too, and there’s a massive industry based around looking good and making friends online. So I try to hold up my end, and I love making friends, but I’ve learned that curating an online personality has to be fun. Stressing over trying to get attention ultimately doesn’t serve my goals.

Because it’s not just about attention: I want my books to make friends. I know how I feel after reading things I like, and I know how I feel after I’ve read things because they were slick enough to get my attention. I want readers who are enthusiastic about horny zombies, readers who want smart and honest writing, readers who feel a connection to my work. I want readers like the young man who told me that The Loving Dead was the first novel he’d ever read. It was the first book he’d found that he could relate to.

Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend

I think people choose what books to read the same way we choose friends. The book has to be interesting, and it has to cross your path in a way that gets your attention. It helps if the book comes recommended by someone you trust. There are so many novels out there, and I can’t remember when I last picked up a book based on a book review. I get them all through personal contacts, or chance encounters.

This may go against conventional wisdom, but I don’t think books or even authors are competing against one another. We’re competing for a potential reader’s attention with everything in his or her life. If these potential readers are anything like me, they want the book to be handed to them by a friend. They want reading to be a shared cultural experience, like Harry Potter or Fifty Shades. Most importantly, they want to read stories that speak to their interests.

So my hope is to put my books in front of as many people as possible, so that the books can make friends. Word of mouth is never about promoting a product: it’s about the personal relationship between the person giving the recommendation and the person receiving it. Making the book free is just a way to get more people involved.

Human nature and free bacon

I cowork at an office in Chicago where we recently had a bacon incident. A food truck had made some sort of mistake and had offered to come do a “bacon apology” by giving free bacon to the office members.

Free bacon? 

But when the gent showed up, the offer became “free with purchase” and I lost interest. It was upsetting not just because I’d been excited about the bacon, but because I saw the potential of what could have happened and how badly the bacon promiser had screwed it up.

I don’t think my office mates and I would have taken advantage of the free bacon. The offer was unique and something we’d been looking forward to. We would have responded by buying our lunches from the food truck. We would have told our friends about it, and the company would have cleaned up in sales and good word of mouth. That’s why I want to give more novels away. It’s not just about a single transaction.

For the past decade, publishing has been evolving from the big box model toward the cult fan base. There will always be big trends because humans are social creatures, but I see the 1,000 True Fans method for making money from creative work becoming mainstream. And why not? We get our breaking news through our social networks now, just as we did thousands of years ago. Information has always been personal, that’s why we trust it.

“Over the course of my career, I’ve never had one. People come for the body of work, not the song.” — Joe Bonamassa

Archive by Author


Posted 13 March 2014 | By | Categories: Travel | No Comments

Last August I moved to Chicago. After living in rural Iceland (where it was a big event when the produce truck came to the local shop), walking down Michigan Avenue in tourist season was mind boggling.

I spent a month in suburban Detroit, where I read Sonnet 116 at my youngest brother’s wedding. I went on a nature walk, found an office I liked, met old and new friends, and got to know my parents again. My two brothers and I got the band back together in Charlottesville VA. Between us we play guitar, mandolin, keyboard, banjo, trumpet, bass, and we sing. We have so much fun.

I love Chicago. This winter may be one of the worst on record, but the city has welcomed me. I have made friends with many artists, entrepreneurs, writers, and other creative, ambitious, amazing people. I talk to new people every day. I found an office where I like to spend my days. I eat bacon. I ride the train. I play my guitar. I write. I edit books. I am an American in America.

AB haircut 2014

Archive by Author

The Whole World

Posted 02 August 2013 | By | Categories: Music, Travel, Video | No Comments

I visited the Hallgrímskirkja Church in the heart of Reykjavik, where I heard a jazz version of “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands” being rehearsed.

My friend Neil said it best: He may have the whole world in His hands, but it sounds a bit like He might be losing His grip. 


Archive by Author

The running of the horses

Posted 29 July 2013 | By | Categories: Travel | 1 Comment

At work in the studio, we hear a child screaming outside. My friend runs to her son, and I hear her ask why he is screaming.

The horses are running. We hurry down the driveway to look at them, me in my slippers.

“Góðan daginn,” the man leading them calls to us. I call back, “Góðan daginn!” He says something in Icelandic, probably, “Don’t try to touch them.”

“They are beautiful,” I call out.

img_9716 img_9721 img_9722img_9734running horses

This is a regular sight here, the movement of horses from one pasture to another. They move like a gym class, with the athletes up front and the reluctant joggers at the back. In front of me one horse decides he’s had enough and slows to a walk. I think they are doing the tölt, a fast and smooth trot unique to Icelandic horses.

I must ride.

Archive by Author

Some common misconceptions about Iceland

Posted 10 July 2013 | By | Categories: Travel | 1 Comment

I’ll admit it, I came to Iceland on a whim. I found an artists residency that looked cool, and applied.

I thought Iceland would be, well, the name kinda says it. But it’s quite green where I am, and the weather’s been between 8-18 C, or, um, 46-65 F. The 46 was in between two glaciers, the 65 was hiking up a mountain in the sun. As I grow more comfortable with Celsius I am starting to lose my grip on Fahrenheit. I already think in Celsius for cooking. The ovens here have incomprehensible symbols (“what does the Mercedes Benz one do?”).

Food packaging here is labeled in at least three languages, sometimes many more. Today I had ramen made in China, cinnamon rolls from Sweden, tea I got in Ireland, cornflakes from the UK, Icelandic milk and produce. I can either be horrified by this or accept that I am a truly global being.

Landing at Reykjavik you think you are landing on the moon. Lunar rocks everywhere. The airline I flew is named after an active volcano. I had been under the impression that there were no trees in Iceland and I was relieved to be wrong, although they all seem quite young. The locals say, “If you are lost in the forest in Iceland, stand up.”

There are two spas in the town where I am living, one for the tourists and one for the locals, a supermarket/gas station, a few restaurants, and very little else. There are sheep in my yard. They stay up all night eating grass and then lie around during the day as if stoned. Both genders have horns.

The sun does not set this time of year. It just goes behind the mountain for a while. This is profoundly disconcerting, and you get used to it. I don’t know how well I would cope in near-perpetual darkness, I’ve been told Icelanders do a lot of arts and crafts during the winter. People here are pretty comfortable speaking English, but they speak Icelandic among themselves. The money has pictures of people with books.

Most of Iceland is run on geothermal energy. A new friend of mine here, aged seven, wrinkled his nose at the smell of the hot water, comparing it to cooked eggs, until I said that the water was heated by volcanoes. “Nobody told me that!” he said, his eyes growing huge.

The worst part about Iceland is the flies. I have accidentally swallowed two now, while hiking. Flicking a scarf around one’s face tends to help. Wind is the only real solution.

Everything is expensive here, except wool. Wool is astonishingly cheap.

Archive by Author

Unintended luggage

Posted 28 June 2013 | By | Categories: Travel | No Comments

British Airways lets you take 23 kilos in your hand luggage. Scandinavian Airlines allow only eight. While I can’t fit anywhere near 23 kilos in my rolly suitcase, this is making me rethink my entire way of life.

Let me back up. I’ve been living abroad for most of two years. I’ve lived with friends, done a bit of housesitting, booked a few rooms with airbnb, hired a cottage, and stayed overnight in a few airport hotels. Because I’m mostly staying put for months at a time, and because I have nice friends, my expenses end up being similar to renting an apartment in Oakland, California.

But in that time and all of those flights, my philosophy of packing has always been to jam as much as I possibly can into the alloted number of bags. My friends in Japan probably thought I was mad for showing up with two huge suitcases, plus my carryon luggage, and I look back and wonder what the hell I was lugging around. Some of it was gifts. But I had a baggage allowance of two checked suitcases, which meant that was how much stuff I needed.

My 8 kilo carryon limit is making me reconsider this philosophy. Packing is a tricky thing when you’re basically moving house. It’s more than deciding how many pairs of socks and underwear and which T-shirts you bring (and I regularly seem to end a trip with a pile of unworn and yet still somehow mismatched socks). Because I don’t know exactly what I’ll need, I bring a range of clothes, casual and dressy, warm and cold. A towel. Boots, dress shoes, and several pairs of sneakers. A light jacket and a heavy jacket. A sun hat and a winter hat. Makeup. Business cards, external backup hard drive, several aging laptops, power cords and international power converters.

Then there are the indulgences that feel like necessities: my blanket from Natureweave Wales, which was made by my friend Anna Morgan and has magic in it. My collection of small bills and change in five or six different currencies, all from places I’ve at least changed planes in, if not lived in for weeks or months. My guitar and homemade songbook. Things you can’t get in the next country, like Australian chocolate, Japanese cakes, and Welsh tea.

Twenty three kilos, about 50 pounds, is the average allowance for checked luggage, and my hand luggage is a respectfully trim rolling suitcase, plus a backpack. Some international flights give you two checked pieces, some one.

And as I’m getting ready for Iceland I think it’s the books that aren’t going to make it. I have half a dozen books with me thanks to BA’s hefty cabin allowance. I bought a few more while here in Ireland. I’m keeping my hand-corrected reading copy of The Loving Dead (which is now available for a mere penny on Amazon!), books one and two of the Way of the Wizards series, silly and fun books by my friend J.E. Honey, and the advance reader copy of Hard Times Blues by Elwin Cotman. I am thinking about how quickly I can read the books I will otherwise have to ship or give away. I may have to get used to reading e-books just to save the agony of letting physical books go.

See, I have romantic ideas about culling down to the point where I only have carryon luggage. How smooth and cool I would be then. Possibly the worst part of travel are those times when you’re sweaty from wearing several layers, your back and forearms ache from lugging oodles of stuff through airports, and and you’re thinking about how to get all of your bags off of the train before it starts moving again. I like my stuff, but I want to carry less of it.

So thank you, Scandinavian Airlines. And sorry, little books.

Archive by Author

Two wild horses

Posted 17 June 2013 | By | Categories: Uncategorized | No Comments

I just had the loveliest experience with two nearly wild horses. They’re Irish thoroughbred fillies, or maybe one’s nearly a thoroughbred, I’m not sure. Two years old, relatively unhandled (= either frightened of or not interested in people).

So here’s the situation. A field in rural Ireland. Knee high grass and buttercups and weeds. The horses are grazing. When I clucked to them from outside the fence to see if they’d come over, they startled, then went back to grazing.

The goal was to get them to take a bit of cut apple. I went into the field slowly, eyes down. I paused regularly. Soon I was near enough to pique their interest, and then they came to me and sniffed at the apple and started eating.

Well, eating may be too generous of a word. They didn’t really know what to do with cut apple and so would gnaw it a bit, drop most of it in the tall grass, I’d pick it up and try again and they’d want to know if the other horse’s piece was the same and it went on like that. When they got some between their teeth, you could see them having to think about chewing, apple isn’t at all like grass.

Then the really beautiful part happened. The apples were eaten and/or lost, so I turned away and walked half a dozen steps. Then I stopped, my back to them, just to see what would happen.

The horses followed me. I would turn, praise them, give one a rub on her neck, then walk on. We did this six or eight times.

They got even more curious as we went, nosing at my hair and clothing, but gently. I’d only look at them when I’d stopped walking, and then only briefly and not directly in their eyes. They stopped exactly when I did. I remember standing between them, petting the huge brown horse right in front of me, with the other right behind me. The vast majority of my small experience is with horses that are used to people. We were all new at this.

I was aware that if they felt threatened, I could get bitten or kicked, but I also knew that they were calm and curious, and so I trusted that they would play with me. We kept this up until we’d all had enough, and they went one way and I went another. The whole experience might have taken ten minutes, but it was as if time had gone soft, stretching like taffy.

Two years ago I couldn’t touch horses. I’d get hives. I was scared of them; they’re big hairy powerful animals. Even a small horse could kill you if it was frightened or upset enough.

But some friends took the time to teach me how to be with horses. I started to learn to handle them and to ride them. Two years. I’m still very much a novice. I’m aware that I could be killed or hurt if I make the wrong mistake, and that will always be the case no matter what skills I develop.

I write this now trying to convey a feeling of awe. I had expected that learning to handle horses would be rewarding, but I didn’t realize how intense it could feel. There’s nothing like a nearly wild animal choosing to be with you.

Archive by Author

First three titles for sale

Posted 13 June 2013 | By | Categories: Publishing | No Comments

I am proud to announce that the first three titles of Shueisha English Edition are for sale as e-books. This is Call Boy‘s first appearance in the English Language, The Stationmaster and Summer, Fireworks, My Corpse were originally published in English by VIZ Media. I’m an editor with Shueisha English Edition, and I hope you’ll check them out.

Call Boy, by Ira Ishida (US $5.65, including 5% discount)

In contemporary Tokyo, youths are lost. The future doesn’ t seem bright, and life is boring. Ryo is an almost dropout college student, who spends most of his time alone or at a small bar tending it nightly. But his life will change drastically when a beautiful middle-aged lady appears at its door. She invites him to the shadow world of male prostitution for women of all ages. When he’ s assigned to the demanding task of satisfying every kind of client, he finds the meaning of life for the very first time. His quest begins: to explore and understand the mysterious and strange world of female desires. All he has to do is to give, giving his heart, mind, and body. And his clients have problems, too. Their desires cannot be fulfilled by ordinary means. So he becomes a Call Boy.

The Stationmaster, by Jiro Asada (US $4.70, including 5% discount)

The Stationmaster examines the lives of the downtrodden, finding redemption in the strangest places. Extremely popular in Japan, this short story collection is about marginalized people: the stationmaster of an obsolete train station; petty criminals; a clothing salesman; a dying sex worker. According to Margaret Atwood’ s introduction, Jiro Asada’ s combination of “daily time in all its humble and often harsh detail with the hidden, haunted psyche- how people see themselves from the outside, contrasted with their knowledge of their own wounded inner selves- is a potent achievement.” Often a ghost or other supernatural element comes in to help right previous wrongs, allowing these characters to find some semblance of peace.

Summer, Fireworks, My Corpse, by Otsuichi (US$ 2.95)

Nine year old Satsuki dies after being pushed out of a tree by one of her friends. This is the story she tells of how it happened, and the lengths her friends go to in order to try and cover it up, not wanting to upset anyone. But she is soon missed, and her lost sandal provides a clue. The writing is both lyrical and stark, and the effect veers from horrifying to absurd as the people closest to her simultaneously search for her body, and try to hide it. Days pass and her body starts to decompose, while her ghost calmly narrates, and her panicked friends struggle to keep their secret.That is the very first short story by a young author, Otsuichi, who wrote it when he was just sixteen, and won an award to be published by Shueisha.The collection also includes “Yuko”, the story of a young woman who takes a job looking after an elderly couple. Kiyone enjoys her work, but is unnerved because she never meets Yuko, the wife. Yuko’s husband pretends that she is still around, while requesting half of their previous portions of food. He never allows Kiyone to clean the bedroom he shares with Yuko. And when she finally trespasses into their room, it is filled with dolls.