Cirrus@Austlit

'This paper investigates generative AI (GnAI) as an editorial mediatory for literary fiction. Applying a digital hermeneutics methodology, our experiment tests ChatGPT-3.5’s editing capabilities by comparing its work on a short story to the work of three professional human editors – two working in-house for esteemed Australian literary journals and one freelance, judging for an annual anthology. This case addresses a gap in our knowledge of how large-language-model (LLM) technologies may improve – or assist in improving – literary fiction works, in line with industry-standard editorial conventions, and increase the efficiency and productivity of editorial intervention. The outcomes suggest GnAI cannot yet compare or compete with human ‘editorial intelligence’ – the result of experience and expertise; intuition, iteration, reflection; and, most importantly, author–editor conversations – in the literary sector. We assert that human management is optimal for literary fiction manuscript development, but surmise that GnAI could have potential application in genre fiction – in conjunction with human oversight (to direct the technology). Future iterations of GnAI will likely have fewer limitations. ChatGPT can, however, enable efficiencies for clearly identified works – those with recognisable tropes and formulaic structures – and has potential to support editors and enhance author engagement with reading audiences.' (Publication abstract)

'My mother and I wanted to open a bookshop. We signed up for a CAE course, which was cancelled when the bookseller who ran it went out of business. I learnt this later because I went on to work in a bookshop and the book business is a small world.' (Introduction)   

'Especially since the arrival of the global pandemic, we have had to reconsider what it means to be present for – and to – one another as writerly peers. For mid-career novelists with complex lives like us, this has meant rethinking what a ‘group’ is and what being part of one might mean: must we be physically present? Could we develop asynchronous practices that retained the intimacy of face-to-face interaction? This essay shares our collective experience, from articulating what we wanted from a writing group, to experimenting with different approaches to being together, and finally to adopting audio recordings – a specific type of ‘talk’ giving voice to our novels in progress – as our preferred method and reflecting on possible reasons for that. We developed this way of being together at a moment, post lockdowns, when it was again legal to meet in person. With more than one person. Many writer-reader groups pivoted online during the pandemic; our experience is part of that story, a reaction to it. Talking online using video chat platforms took energy; it was exhausting. The audio recording as ‘talk’ was surprisingly intimate and allowed us to connect collectively as our worlds opened back up. As creatives working on long-form sole-authored books, we are committed to the possibilities of the collective. No solitary geniuses here! We all need someone – or some ones – to wash the sheets, shop for coffee, make the soup, feed the birds. ' (Introduction)

'This conversation took place over the summer of 2020/21. We were looking for a new way to discuss, to essay about, speculative fiction. Should we write each other letters? Emails? We talked on the phone and started writing/overwriting a shared googledoc, extending our edits into a conversation that teased out ideas – asking and answering, testing and challenging each other. Wow, we thought, is that what you think. Okay…' (Introduction)

'This collaborative paper explores how the ‘spec-fic’ category may be responding to contemporary political and environmental challenges. It presents two case studies, in the personal writing and professional publishing experiences of authors Rose Michael and Cat Sparks, to consider the ways speculative fiction engages with real-world concerns. The paper acknowledges the genre’s contested relationship to harder-to-categorise cross-genre or interstitial forms of non-realist fiction, as well as its obvious antecedents in science fiction and its arguable overlap with ‘big L’ literature. As creative practitioners and published authors who dis/identify with generic labels in different ways, the authors contend that the use, misuse, and abuse of genre conventions has been, and continues to be, personally and professionally productive – particularly in a contemporary publishing landscape impacted by changes to technology and platforms that have transformed traditional relationships and roles.'  (Publication abstract)

'I count myself lucky. Weird, I know, in this day and age when all around us the natural and political world is going to hell in a handbasket. But that, in fact, may be part of it.

'Back when I started writing, realism had such a stranglehold on publishing that there was little room for speculative writers and readers. (I didn’t know that’s what I was until I read it in a reader’s report for my first novel. And even then I didn’t know what it was, until I realised that it was what I read, and had always been reading; what I wrote, and wanted to write.) Outside of the convention rooms, that is, which were packed with less-literary-leaning science-fiction and fantasy producers and consumers.'  (Introduction)

'The year of the Slippery When Wet Tour three girls leave their safe suburban world to spend a life-changing night in a forest on the outskirts of Melbourne, where they plan a half-serious séance to call forth bushranger Ned Kelly. A world away in time Edward Kelley - alchemist, necromancer and crystal ball 'scryer' for Elizabeth I's astrologist Doctor Dee - is beset by visions. Narratives from 1987, 1587 and 2087 merge and converge as this gothic ghost story becomes a fantastic tale of possession in a blazing work of speculative fiction. ' (Publication summary)