Write a Science Fiction Book - Guest Post, Giveaway, & Tour -
6:24 PM
Suzy Spitfire Kills Everybody
By Joe Canzano
Genre: Science Fiction
When outlaw Suzy Spitfire discovers her father was murdered after creating a super-duper artificial intelligence, she races across the solar system in search of the brain he built—but it’s a rough ride, and she’s soon forced to tangle with pirates, predators, and her father’s killer—as well as a man she thinks she can love.
Suzy Spitfire Kills Everybody is a smash-bang sci-fi adventure filled with action, intrigue, and a dose of dark humor.
Write a Science Fiction Book - Guest Post by Joe Canzano
When someone sets out to write a science fiction book, there’s a big decision to be made. I’m talking about aliens, and whether or not they’ll be in the story.
Once you cross the alien line, you’ve opened the door to more questions. What will their language sound like—or will they just happen to speak English like so many of the aliens on television? Will they look like slimy piles of octopus meat, or big balls of fuzz, or sparkly gaseous clouds—or will they resemble humans with bad makeup and bumpy noses and different skin tones (TV once again).
Now that you’ve settled the alien issue, you’ll need to discuss space travel. How did contact with the aliens arise? If they aren’t from nearby, you’ve got to deal with people being able to cross the vast distances of space. There are several popular methods for this sort of thing. Here are three of them:
- Humans warping through space, using the good old “we’re wrinkling the universe” theory that allows them to shorten the distance between two points and pop up in distant places. As they wrinkle along, the process is often measured in a way that sounds similar to a speedometer (warp factor three, four, five, etc.), which is probably ridiculous but makes for a better story—because if you just pop on through there is no journey, right? And lots of stuff can happen during a good journey.
- Suspended animation, like freezers or whatever. The problem here is that there will be an enormous time lapse in the traveler’s world relative to the place they left. This can be a real nuisance in a story unless it’s the focal point, and usually these implications are ignored. No one ever wakes up and says, “Oh, we made it—and all our friends and relatives on Earth are dead! Let’s make breakfast.”
- Forget about the science. We’re just going to zoom around at speeds faster than light and call it hyperspace or whatever. Yes, it’s probably nonsense, but it tends to work the best.
Now before you start writing a comment about my lack of understanding of hyperspace –lighten up. There is currently no such thing as hyperspace, and it’s possible it will never exist. It’s made up. That’s what fiction is—even science fiction.
It was a peaceful evening in a peaceful part of town. Not really Suzy Spitfire’s style, but what the hell. She wasn’t going to let a beautiful sense of calm ruin her night.
She walked with cat-like steps across the beach as a salty breeze rifled through her coppery-crimson hair. With a sharp glance, she eyed the flashing lights of a hover-ship out at sea. Finally, she slipped through a plastic door and entered the shadowy interior of a local pub called El Pájaro Feliz.
Suzy narrowed her eyes and studied the glowing mix of wood and glass and hanging paper lanterns. Bouncy music and bubbly conversations flooded her ears as she did a quick scan of the room—okay, not bad. No need to be concerned right now, not in this seaside party shack with a moonlit view of the surf and the sea. But she kept her Series 7 pulse pistol close, strapped to her thigh under her black leather skirt, because people and places can go bad at any time. It was something she’d learned the hard way. It was something that still kept her up at night.
Too many people in here, she thought. Why couldn’t this meeting happen in a place with fewer tourists? Aiko had wanted it to be somewhere public. Well, he’d always liked the public more than she had. But he was also a stand-up guy who she hadn’t seen for over two years—not since he’d gone to Tokyo and she’d become a murderer.
As her boots glided across the floor, she vaguely wondered if this was a setup. She recalled her father’s words: “It’s all about the math, Suzy.” But Dad had said a lot of stuff. Empty talk.
It didn’t feel like a setup. Hey, maybe after a few drinks Aiko could help her come up with that pile of cash she needed.
She rolled her eyes as a holographically-enhanced robot bartender appeared in front of her. The thing was “graphed up” to be a tall guy with red hair, dressed in black. She knew a hidden scanner had analyzed her appearance and then displayed the face of someone calculated to be appealing to her—but just because she’d inherited her mom’s light skin and reddish hair didn’t mean her bartender had to resemble a giant leprechaun. She really preferred someone like the guy sitting eight or nine seats down.
He was fairly well built, with curly dark hair and eyes like gooey black puddles. Probably from the United Mexican Union, or the southern country of Rio da Vida. Forget about it, she thought. There were bigger things to worry about. At the very least, her fantasy had to be quick.
She noticed the sexy guy had his own phony bartender—a tall blonde squeezed into a short red skirt with breasts like a couple of fresh torpedoes. So that was his type, huh? Bold and trashy. What a coincidence. There’s a woman who looks like that right over here—except she’s shorter, with no torpedoes, and a body that’s completely organic. Suzy watched without watching too much as the sexy guy smiled and said a few words to his slutty drink-serving projection. Then she realized someone was talking to her. It was the phony bartender in front of her.
“Can I do something for you?” he said.
“Sure. You can steal me a new spaceship. But if that’s not part of the plan, how about a Jack and Coke?”
The bartender smiled. Suzy knew they were programmed to do it constantly, and that was the problem with these modern bars in a trendy metropolis like Diego Tijuana. They were filled with holograms and empty smiles.
He put a drink in front of her. “From the man over there,” he said, motioning with his hand.
So the sexy guy had bought her a drink. That was good, maybe. And now he was smiling at her in a way no piece of programming ever could. Fine, there was no harm in smiling back. Lots of great times start on the heels of one stupid second.
He strutted over to her and grinned. “Hi there. My name’s Ricardo. It’s good to meet you.”
She walked with cat-like steps across the beach as a salty breeze rifled through her coppery-crimson hair. With a sharp glance, she eyed the flashing lights of a hover-ship out at sea. Finally, she slipped through a plastic door and entered the shadowy interior of a local pub called El Pájaro Feliz.
Suzy narrowed her eyes and studied the glowing mix of wood and glass and hanging paper lanterns. Bouncy music and bubbly conversations flooded her ears as she did a quick scan of the room—okay, not bad. No need to be concerned right now, not in this seaside party shack with a moonlit view of the surf and the sea. But she kept her Series 7 pulse pistol close, strapped to her thigh under her black leather skirt, because people and places can go bad at any time. It was something she’d learned the hard way. It was something that still kept her up at night.
Too many people in here, she thought. Why couldn’t this meeting happen in a place with fewer tourists? Aiko had wanted it to be somewhere public. Well, he’d always liked the public more than she had. But he was also a stand-up guy who she hadn’t seen for over two years—not since he’d gone to Tokyo and she’d become a murderer.
As her boots glided across the floor, she vaguely wondered if this was a setup. She recalled her father’s words: “It’s all about the math, Suzy.” But Dad had said a lot of stuff. Empty talk.
It didn’t feel like a setup. Hey, maybe after a few drinks Aiko could help her come up with that pile of cash she needed.
She rolled her eyes as a holographically-enhanced robot bartender appeared in front of her. The thing was “graphed up” to be a tall guy with red hair, dressed in black. She knew a hidden scanner had analyzed her appearance and then displayed the face of someone calculated to be appealing to her—but just because she’d inherited her mom’s light skin and reddish hair didn’t mean her bartender had to resemble a giant leprechaun. She really preferred someone like the guy sitting eight or nine seats down.
He was fairly well built, with curly dark hair and eyes like gooey black puddles. Probably from the United Mexican Union, or the southern country of Rio da Vida. Forget about it, she thought. There were bigger things to worry about. At the very least, her fantasy had to be quick.
She noticed the sexy guy had his own phony bartender—a tall blonde squeezed into a short red skirt with breasts like a couple of fresh torpedoes. So that was his type, huh? Bold and trashy. What a coincidence. There’s a woman who looks like that right over here—except she’s shorter, with no torpedoes, and a body that’s completely organic. Suzy watched without watching too much as the sexy guy smiled and said a few words to his slutty drink-serving projection. Then she realized someone was talking to her. It was the phony bartender in front of her.
“Can I do something for you?” he said.
“Sure. You can steal me a new spaceship. But if that’s not part of the plan, how about a Jack and Coke?”
The bartender smiled. Suzy knew they were programmed to do it constantly, and that was the problem with these modern bars in a trendy metropolis like Diego Tijuana. They were filled with holograms and empty smiles.
He put a drink in front of her. “From the man over there,” he said, motioning with his hand.
So the sexy guy had bought her a drink. That was good, maybe. And now he was smiling at her in a way no piece of programming ever could. Fine, there was no harm in smiling back. Lots of great times start on the heels of one stupid second.
He strutted over to her and grinned. “Hi there. My name’s Ricardo. It’s good to meet you.”
About the Author
Joe Canzano is a writer and musician who lives in New Jersey, U.S.A. He is the author of two absurd comic fantasy novels, “Magno Girl,” and “Sex Hell.” His third novel, Suzy Spitfire Kills Everybody, is a departure from the world of wacky satire. Suzy Spitfire Kills Everybody is a sci-fi adventure filled with action and a dose of dark humor. For more information about Joe, please visit www.happyjoe.net.
1 comments
Thanks for posting this, KayCee! Here's a list of places where the book is available:
ReplyDeletehttps://www.happyjoe.net/suzy-spitfire
Good luck with your writing! - Joe