The Never-ending FAQ • 9 July 2025

Questions have been piling up while I’ve been busy with Otogu, so this is going to be a combination FAQ and status update. Quick, Robin, to the Bat-Agenda!

First item:  The Very Best of The Pete Wood Challenge

This is just a reminder that we’re soliciting reader input for a proposed short story collection, to be drawn from the hundreds of Pete Wood Challenge stories we’re published over the past four years. You’ll find the details and links to all the stories here: https://stupefyingstories.blogspot.com/2025/07/its-time-to-nominate-your-favorite.html

Remember, if you want to vote for a story, put your comments in the above post or send them to our submissions email address. We’ve had to lock-down commenting on older posts because of the spam. If you try to comment on an older story, your comment won’t be lost, but it will go into the moderation queue, and we’ll see it… eventually.

 

Second item: The Day We Said Goodbye to the Birds

Another reminder, that Allan Dyen-Shapiro’s novelette, The Day We Said Goodbye to the Birds, is now out on just about every ebook platform there is, and in trade paperback, too. Allan will be at Readercon 34 next week, with print copies hot off the presses and ready to sign. If you’re going to Readercon, be sure to stop by and say hi.

While the Amazon-specific print edition is available now, the Ingram print edition seems to be taking a longer than usual time to wend its way through the distribution pipeline. The Amazon edition is available now and slightly cheaper. The Ingram edition is better-quality and will in time be available in wide distribution, but at this time is available only directly from Ingram. (Or from Allan, at Readercon.)

The truly dedicated fan will want both, of course.

    

Third item: the growing A.I. menace

As you should be able to see from the photo at the top of this page but can’t, the black raspberries are ripe, and the red raspberries are just coming into being ripe. I’ve been unable to get a good photo of the black raspberries, though, because the “we’re going to make you use A.I. whether you want it or not” image filter in my cell phone’s camera software apparently recognizes them as being raspberries, and thus insists they must be red and keeps tinkering with the image to turn the berries red. I mean, everyone knows ripe raspberries are red, right?

This to me is the greatest menace of ubiquitous A.I.: millions of tiny A.I. algorithms out there all suffering from galloping Dunning-Kruger Effect, quietly and constantly editing all that we see, hear, and read to reflect what “everybody knows,” and thus in reality reflecting the original programmer’s unconscious biases and unthinking assumptions.  The collective effect on human cognition and critical discernment will be suffocating.

This is no mere jeremiad. It’s already happening in music, where creators are complaining that “AI-Generated Music Is Starting to Crowd Out the Real Stuff on Streaming Platforms.” (Heh. “…a wasteland of unchecked beatspam.” Great description. Wish I’d written that.)

Don’t shrug it off as, “So what? It’s hip-hop.” This is coming soon to your favorite ebook platform. Yes, I know, people are putting lots of low-grade A.I.-generated crap out there already, but such books are not getting much traction… yet. Right now, most readers are smart enough and discerning enough to recognize dim-witted A.I.-generated slop when they see it.

The coming change will not be that A.I.-generated books will get better. It’s that the people who buy books will get stupider.

This is where you come into the story. This is your challenge. Educate your readers. Make them smarter. Don’t succumb to the temptation to write down to the lowest common denominator. Write the best books you can write, and train your readers to expect better.

I know. This sounds like work. But your future depends on there being intelligent, discerning, and literate readers who want to read your work, and won’t settle for A.I.-generated wordspam. 

</jeremiad>

Fourth item: the end of the world as we know it

While the robins in the nest under the deck have hatched, the raspberries are doing well, scattering used coffee grounds in the garden seems to be discouraging the deer from conducting any more midnight raids on my beans and tomatoes, and the plum trees are showing promise of producing ripe fruit in the fall, the mulberry trees have completely failed. They were loaded with flowers in the spring, a few weeks after the plums trees bloomed, but they’re barren now. 

I blame the suburban obsession with having a smooth, manicured, weed-free lawn. In the early spring, my yard and garden were full of bees. I counted six different species. Then the lawn service trucks came through my neighborhood, and the bees vanished. Any vegetable plant or fruit tree that blossomed after Extermination Day is barren now.

The entire human food chain depends on insect pollinators, my friends. Be kind to them. Don’t spread toxic shit* on your lawns. Tolerate the clover and dig up the dandelions if you must, but don’t poison the bees!

I suppose this explains why “Bootleg Bees,” by Laura Jane Swanson, remains one of my favorite stories, of all the stories I’ve published on this web site.

* One of the more perversely amusing lawn service signs I saw on one of my neighbor’s lawns boasted that they used “only organic chemicals.” Well, rattlesnake venom is an organic chemical, too, but I sure wouldn’t want to walk barefoot across a lawn that’s been freshly sprayed with it. 

Fifth item: the future of Stupefying Stories in general and this web site in particular

Quite a few questions have come in lately asking when we’re going to be reopening for submissions, how long stories on this site are going to remain available to readers, when the next issue is coming out, when is Writing 101 going to resume, etc., etc., etc. 

The answer to all of these questions is, “We’re working on it. We’ll have better answers next week.” But right at the moment I’ve run out of time for today, so must stop writing now and hit the Publish button.

See you next week, then.