THE BROAD EMPIRICAL facts are not disputed. Four friends: Hannah Pittard, Andrew Ewell, Anna Shearer, Ryan Fox. Two marriages. Years ago, they fell in together in and around the world of postgrad creative writing at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. There's a photograph from back when things were still good, all of them huddled together on a couch in a pose of easy camaraderie: four artists only beginning to discover the ways ambition might reshape their lives. They all stayed friends until, in the first week of July 2016, Andrew, who was married to Hannah, slept with Anna, who was married to Ryan. A couple of weeks later, Hannah found out. Soon, both marriages were over.
It's the kind of story-one of turmoil, epiphany, evolution, damage, hope, betrayal, rancor, joy that, as specific and tumultuous as it may be to each person living it, plays out thousands of times every day. And in its wake, each of those involved finds their own way to deal with it. Some suppress it all in silence. Some lean into forgiveness, some dive headlong into recrimination. Some endlessly replay, some yearn to forget.
But whichever choices are made, the blast radius is usually localized. Explosions like these are forever going off all around us, but you'd barely know.
Then there are writers.
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Drowning in Slop - A thriving underground economy is clogging the internet with AI garbage-and it's only going to get worse.
SLOP started seeping into Neil Clarke's life in late 2022. Something strange was happening at Clarkesworld, the magazine. Clarke had founded in 2006 and built into a pillar of the world of speculative fiction. Submissions were increasing rapidly, but âthere was something off about them,â he told me recently. He summarized a typical example: âUsually, it begins with the phrase âIn the year 2250-somethingâ and then it goes on to say the Earthâs environment is in collapse and there are only three scientists who can save us. Then it describes them in great detail, each one with its own paragraph. And thenâtheyâve solved it! You know, it skips a major plot element, and the final scene is a celebration out of the ending of Star Wars.â Clarke said he had received âdozens of this story in various incarnations.â
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On Sunday, September 15, Derell Mickles hopped a turnstile, got asked to leave by cops, then entered the subway again ten minutes later through an emergency exit. This was at the Sutter Avenue L station, out by his mother's house, five stops from the end of the line. Police said they noticed he was holding a folded knife. They followed him up the stairs to the elevated train, asking him 38 times to drop the weapon.
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