Grantville Gazette, Volume 40

Grantville Gazette, Volume 40

Edited by Paula Goodlett

What is this? About the Grantville Gazette

Written by Grantville Gazette Staff

The
Grantville Gazette
originated as a by-product of the ongoing and very active discussions which take place concerning the 1632 universe Eric Flint created in the novels
1632, 1633
and
1634: The Galileo Affair
(the latter two books co-authored by David Weber and Andrew Dennis, respectively). More books have been written and co-written in this series, including 1
634: The Baltic War
,
1634: The Bavarian Crisis
,
1635: The Cannon Law
,
1635: The Dreeson Incident
,
1635: The Eastern Front
, and
1635: The Saxon Uprising
.
1636: The Kremlin Games
is forthcoming, and the book
Time Spike
is also set in the Assiti Shards universe. This discussion is centered in three of the conferences in
Baen's Bar
, the discussion area of
Baen Books' web site
. The conferences are entitled "1632 Slush," "1632 Slush Comments" and "1632 Tech Manual." They have been in operation for almost seven years now, during which time nearly two hundred thousand posts have been made by hundreds of participants.

Soon enough, the discussion began generating so-called "fanfic," stories written in the setting by fans of the series. A number of those were good enough to be published professionally. And, indeed, a number of them were—as part of the anthology
Ring of Fire
, which was published by Baen Books in January, 2004. (
Ring of Fire
also includes stories written by established authors such as Eric Flint himself, as well as David Weber, Mercedes Lackey, Dave Freer, K.D. Wentworth and S.L. Viehl.)

The decision to publish the
Ring of Fire
anthology triggered the writing of still more fanfic, even after submissions to the anthology were closed.
Ring of Fire
has been selling quite well since it came out, and a second anthology similar to it was published late in 2007. Another,
Ring of Fire III
, is also in print.  It also contains stories written by new writers, as well as professionals. But, in the meantime . . . the fanfic kept getting written, and people kept nudging Eric—well, pestering Eric—to give them feedback on their stories.

Hence . . . the
Grantville Gazette.
Once he realized how many stories were being written—a number of them of publishable quality—he raised with Jim Baen the idea of producing an online magazine which would pay for fiction and nonfiction articles set in the 1632 universe and would be sold through
Baen Books' Webscriptions
service. Jim was willing to try it, to see what happened.

As it turned out, the first issue of the electronic magazine sold well enough to make continuing the magazine a financially self-sustaining operation. Since then, even more volumes have been electronically published through the Baen Webscriptions site. As well,
Grantville Gazette
,
Volume One
was published in paperback in November of 2004. That has since been followed by hardcover editions of
Grantville Gazette
, Volumes Two, Three, Four and Five.

Then, two big steps:

First: The magazine had been paying semi-pro rates for the electronic edition, increasing to pro rates upon transition to paper, but one of Eric's goals had long been to increase payments to the authors.
Grantville Gazette
, Volume Eleven was the first volume to pay the authors professional rates.

Second: There are several different versions of each issue of the Gazette. It is now available through Webscription, Amazon and B&N, plus other methods. The on-line version, depending on timing, might still be in ARC status.  That's Advanced Reader Copy. Our publications dates are 1 Jan, 1 Mar, 1 May, 1 Jul, 1 Sep and 1 Nov. In between issues, here at 
http://www.grantvillegazette.com
you'll often be reading the electronic version of an ARC, where you can read the issues as we assemble them. You'll see the art and the stories as they are prepared for publication. 

How will it work out? Will we be able to continue at this rate? Well, we don't know. That's up to the readers. But we'll be here, continuing the saga, the soap opera, the drama and the comedy just as long as people are willing to read them.

— The
Grantville Gazette
Staff

Minicon 2012? At Chicon

Written by Grantville Gazette Staff

This year. Labor Day weekend. Chicago Illinois, the seventieth World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon 70) is being held for the seventh time in Chicago (Chicon 7), and the 1632 minicon will be there. Plus, you get to see the Hugos awarded. How cool is that? 

Panelists are expected to include Eric Flint, Virginia DeMarce, Paula Goodlett, Chuck Gannon, Rick Boatright, Gorg Huff, Walt Boyes, David Carrico, Iver Cooper, and others. Panel titles, participants, and times will be available at a later date.

You should register as part of Chicon to participate; for registration, hotel information, directions, etc., see 
https://chicon.org/

See you there! 

Anyone who wants to participate is welcome. Just show up.

The Heirloom

Written by Robert E. Waters

March, 1626, Darmstadt, Germany

Nina Weiss watched the soldiers assemble in the
Schlossplatz
from a safe place behind her father's crates and barrels. Not soldiers really, but boys, many of whom were not much older than she. Children playing at war, with their pikes and muskets and arrogant ways. She huffed and shook her head. Somewhere amidst that youthful rabble was her Stefan, cleanly shaven, fresh clothes, a bandoleer of powder charges across his chest, and his uncle's old gun, the one that couldn't shoot straight, strapped to his back. She squinted to see him better, but the light of early spring blocked her view. She pushed up on tip-toes, put her hand over her eyes, and craned her neck.

A strong arm grabbed her waist from behind and a powerful hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream as the assailant pulled her off her feet and pushed her against the side of her father's shop. She struggled, but the weight of the man and the strength of his hold could not be broken. She kicked towards his crotch but only grazed the inside of his thigh.

"Ouch!" the man said, letting her go and pushing her away.

"Stefan?"

She turned. Before her stood the young man, a large mischievous smile across his face. Locks of light-brown hair fell out of a small dark cap fixed to his head. He smelled of blackpowder.

"You fool!" she said, beating his chest gently. "Don't
ever
do that again."

Stefan Thalberg pulled her close and they kissed, much longer than she expected in the light of day. Stefan was not one to show his affection in public. She did not resist, however, taking him close to feel his warmth one last time. He picked at the lacings on the front of her dress. She smacked his hand away. "No, no. You get no more of that," she said, "until we're married."

Stefan pulled away and shook his head. "How will that happen? Your father doesn't like me."

"Well, can you blame him? What can the lowly son of a silversmith offer the daughter of a great merchant like my father?"

They both laughed, but the seriousness of the moment returned. "Don't go, Stefan. You don't have to go. No one is making you go."

"I have to," he said, straightening his shirt and bandoleer. "Wallenstein needs men."

"Wallenstein is inexperienced. Mansfeld will destroy him."

"My," said Stefan, putting his fists on his hips, "don't you know a lot today."

"My father talks and I am capable of listening."

Stefan grabbed her arms and pulled her close. "Yes, you are. So listen to me now, sweet. Wallenstein marches for God, and when this war is over, we must be on the right side of it. The winning side."

Nina stared into Stefan's deep brown eyes. There was a devout Catholic behind those eyes, though you would not know it to look at him. He seemed so secular, so simple in a way. His smooth skin, his pleasant eyes. Nina had fallen in love with those boyish eyes at first glance. But now they seemed more serious, adult, distant and anxious. Her father would never see what she saw in those eyes; he would never allow her to marry this Catholic boy . . . no matter what.

But it was too late for that now.

She pulled away and tried to hide the tears. "Then go. Go meet your friends and march off to Wallenstein."

They stood there for a long moment, saying nothing. Then Stefan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He held it to her. "I want you to have this."

"What is it?" she asked, taking it from his hand.

"Something I made for you."

She held it up to the light. It was a medallion, perfectly shaped and smooth, pure shining silver, with the image of Mary holding baby Jesus and looking at a cross in the sky. It was beautiful. She smiled. "Did you do the etching?"

Stefan looked embarrassed. "Well, no. I had Uncle help me with that. But I shaped and polished it for you. And I did the inscription on the back." He reached for her hand and turned it over. "See what it says? Whenever you feel lonely or afraid, whenever you have doubt, I want you to look at that and remember me. That is my promise to you, and when I return, we will marry, no matter what your father or mine will say. I promise."

He kissed her hands. They hugged and he kissed her forehead. "Goodbye," he whispered, then turned and walked away.

Nina watched him go from the safety of her crates and barrels. He disappeared into the crowd of soldiers. "Goodbye, Stefan," she said. "I will be waiting for you." She reached down and held the medallion tightly against her belly.

"We will be waiting for you."

August, 1635, Grantville

Ella Lou Rice sat quietly in her living room. She had removed her black veil and had finished the cup of tea that her son, Clyde, had given her. Now she was alone, while somewhere in the house, Clyde and his wife Bettina were saying thank you to the last well-wishers that had stopped by after John's funeral. She smiled at the memory. It was a pleasant funeral, and all things considered, a reasonable one given the nature of their situation. Many World War II vets had attended, and one even blew "Taps,"though it sounded a bit flat. Someone had brought an American flag and had draped the coffin with it, then presented it to her in the standard fold. It had not been the planned funeral that she and her husband had discussed, but what could they do? The Ring of Fire had left few options.

The original plan had been to bury John at Arlington Cemetery, surrounded by his children, all six of them, with grandkids in tow. A twenty-one gun salute, while somewhere in the distance a trumpeter would blow the notes that would carry John's sweet soul into the afterlife. But only Clyde had come through the Ring of Fire that day. Molly and her children were visiting her husband's family in Michigan, and the rest were scattered from Kansas to Georgia. If Ella Lou believed in a God with any true vigor, she might have counted her blessings, giving thanks that most of her children had been left up-time in a more "civilized" environment. But as she studied an old portrait of her husband, one taken outside of Boston right before his deployment, she could feel nothing but anger and regret. She ran her fingers over his face and whispered, "You should have been buried with all your children there. Now they will never know what happened to their daddy."