Notes Toward Building a Writers’ Community

I must admit, I’ve always found writers to be puzzling.I am one. I’ve had some success at being one, as you may have noticed. I grew up in a literature-rich environment. My mom was a published poet of no particular note, and quite a few of her old school friends were professionally published writers, mostly of mysteries. (Mom always seemed disappointed that I preferred science...

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Writing 101 • Day 2: What is a story?

It’s kind of funny, really. My parents were both public school teachers. I grew up in a house that was simply overflowing with books and magazines. I learned to read at a very early age—before I began school—and have spent my entire life since then reading, writing, and ultimately, editing and publishing, stories.But what exactly is a story? That’s a question I never...

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The Never-ending FAQ • 23 April 2025

Welcome to this week’s installment of The Never-ending FAQ, the constantly evolving adjunct to our Submission Guidelines and general-purpose unfocused Q&A session.  If you have a question you’d like to ask about Stupefying Stories or Rampant Loon Press, feel free to post it as a comment here or to email it to our submissions address. I can’t guarantee we’ll post...

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Writing 101 • Day 1: Welcome to the class

I was doing a reading at an SF/F con this past weekend—Sorry for not alerting you that I was going to be there. It was very much a last-minute, spur-of-the-moment decision to go. I haven’t been to a con since DemiCon 30 in 2019, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get back into the SF/F con scene. Cons can be very strange places full of even stranger people…Nonetheless,...

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“Walls Have Ears” • by Raluca Balasa

[START] This interview is being recorded, at half past noon on the eighth of June, 2025. We are in Interview Room C at the Windsor police station in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. No other officers or legal representatives are present. Can the interviewee state his name and date of birth? Is interviewee even a word? Please answer the question, Mr. Older. [Laughs] Yes. Yes? The...

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Ask Dr. Cyberpunk • with your host, Bruce Bethke

Today’s question comes from Lars, who leads into his question with a quote from what someone else had written about me: “When coining the term for his 1983 story “Cyberpunk,” Bruce Bethke reportedly matched up words for technology and words for troublemakers until he found a pair that seemed right, rather than singling out punks as a crucial countercultural group...

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“Visionary” • by Jeff Currier

“Off-season pricing? I’m sorry, sir, Time Travel Tours has no off season.“I know our fees seem outrageous. But Tours require significant energy expenditures. Punching precisely targeted wormholes through the spacetime manifold? Accurately calibrating one-way photon phasing? Not cheap.“You want to go to when? Regretfully, the birth, crucifixion, and resurrection are all completely...

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Status Update: 14 April 2025

Tomorrow being April 15th, or as it’s known in the U.S., “National Render Unto Caesar Day,” we’re a bit busy right now. We’ll return to normal operations possibly tomorrow, but more likely Wednesday. In the meantime, I have a few comments about the results of last week’s Cat Week. To put it plainly, they were disappointing. Of the seven cat-related stories we resurfaced...

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REPRISE: “Take Me to Your Litter Box” • by Pete Wood

The phone meowed twice. It had never made that noise before.Why would anyone call at three a.m.? Eric picked it up, but there was nobody there. Mr. Ruffles stopped licking his fur and stood on his two hind legs. “Well, that’s the signal.” He looked at Eric. “I guess we cats have collected enough data.” Eric stared at his fat tabby. He had just left the office after spending...

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REPRISE: “This Cat Must Die!” • by Jason Lairamore

 The heavy ceramic angel sitting high on the shelf above the sliding glass door was perfect for what Sham, the ethereal, had in mind. That fat, orange cat had to die. Its death was the only way he could become a real ghost. Late morning sun shining through the glass door warmed the tiled floor. That cursed cat, Cadmus, loved nothing more than to lay there to sleep. Sham...

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