Chicanonautica: Notes on My Notes

by Ernest Hogan

Some have said that my “Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style” class is a bit disorganized. They also said that’s not necessarily a bad thing. So, since I don't want a rumor to start that I just babble for the hard-earned cash my students pay, I’m going over my notes.

Yes, I have notes. I try to keep it “gonzo,” but I do think about structure. Some have suggested that I publish them, but they aren’t meant for readers, just a listing of things to talk about. Not very comprehensible or entertaining.

I did start them with the idea that I would someday make them into a short book. Interspersed with blog entries about writing, it could be a thing, but with the book available would people still pay to take the course?

Maybe, since what makes it special is being interactive. 

Ideally, the course would become a nonstop creative free-for-all with the students all mercilessly grilling me and providing material that would result in us all writing some wild stuff and somehow, everything in the notes would be covered.

Unfortunately, most writing students are shy, introverted types, and can be intimidated by going face-to-face with a vato loco Aztec cyberpunk even in a Zoom meeting.

So I need the notes. The class consists of me shuffling through them and telling the twisted story of my life and career. I try to keep it entertaining.

I do feel that the best stuff comes from my dealing with what the students are bringing. Interaction. Confrontation. Gonzo.

I’ve been adding to the notes–I keep remembering things–and trying to put them in a structure that fits the format of a four-day class.

Usually, things happen that throw me off track. I look at notes and find that I’ve covered a lot of it already, which is good.

Creativity needs spontaneity.

And the class would be pretty lame if it was talking about creativity and not having it happen.

It also needs the structure I’m struggling to impose.

A high wire balancing act that could end it disaster, that gets so much better the closer you get to the edge . . .

And the notes have been evolving. Maybe I should make them into a book after all. I could write up what I say in the live class . . .

It won’t have the magic moments that can come from live, interactive experience, but it would, at the very least, be fun.

Ernest Hogan doesn’t believe in gurus but does have nearly fifty years of writing experience that can help and amuse.

Chicanonautica: Again, Dangerous Education

by Ernest Hogan

Look out, Western Civilization, I’m going to be playing teacher again! You will be able to partake of my Ancient Chicano Sci-Fi Wisdom and learn how to create your own Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style, and there ain’t nothing the new, improved federal government can do to stop it.

I think. (As the Cisco Kid’s sidekick Pancho would say.)

For two weekends, June 7 & 8, then 14 & 15, I’ll be on Zoom, telling about my gonzo techniques, marketing yourself to the Anglo-centric publishing industry, using the social media, and outrageous-sometimes hair-raising-firsthand anecdotes of a professional writer’s life. I will also start and write a story sharing how I do it and the results and encourage students to do the same.

And if you have work you’d like to share, there will be some time. Impress me if you can.

As usual, I’m hoping to get my mind blown.

It costs $100, which is cheap. Check out what other writing workshops cost.

It’s free to apply. The deadline for applications is May 1.

If money is a problem, Space Cowboy Press has offered a sponsorship. Inquire soon.

If you are not part of the Chicano/Latinoid continuum, you will be able to take courses at the workshop, however, be aware that they will be oriented toward the non-Anglo students. It’ll be the reverse of my experience back in the Seventies, when I was so often the only brown face in the room . . .

And with all the caca flying around in 2025, I’m going to have a lot to say about sci-fi writing while Chicano in the time of Trump.

There’s nobody with a warrant pounding on my door—yet.

I think.

(At least I’m not picking up Pancho’s accent—I theenk . . . Uh-oh!)

Ernest Hogan is busy committing shameless acts of aesthetic terrorism and creative blasphemy. He is also writing.

Chicanonautica: Guerrilla Mural Certified Radical

by Ernest Hogan

My story collection Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song: 15 Gonzo Science Fiction Stories has been out for almost a year and there have been no “real” reviews, and it’s been largely ignored except for here at the intersection of Latino Lit and Sci-Fi. I was leaning toward depression . . . then . . . a review on video declares the book “Certified Radical.”

The upstart responsible for this subversive act is Alli Dubin, who describes herself as "a student of latinx sci-fi as someone who walks through the world with white privilege, as someone who is interested in the perspectives of other people and spending time in other worldviews.”

Take that, those of you who assume that my work is only of interest to microminority intellectual vatos locos!

She also gets what I’m doing:

“. . . combines something called rasquache and science fiction together and the result is absolutely hilarious.”

Yes, she comprendes rasquache!

 Made good use of some of my artwork.

Here to emphasize quotes from her favorite story, “Flying Under the Radar with Paco and Los Freetails”:

Hope she knows about the other Paco Cohen stories . . .

As well as providing some great quotes that I will be exploiting soon:

“. . . pulls little bits and pieces from politics and pop culture and literature and music and he filters it all through his Chicano identity and the result is you get this hilarious form of empowerment and resistance.”

And:

“ . . . very enriching while at the same time just a ton of fun. ”

I love it when reviewers remind people that my work is fun, and funny. 

Also, being “Certified Radical by Alli from Radical Reads” makes me proud.

So, watch the review yourself:

Ernest Hogan is a living example that Chicano is a science fiction state of being, and is also the author of Smoking Mirror Blues, in which Tezcatlipoca manifests in Hollywood during a futuristic festival combining Halloween and the Days of the Dead. ¡Feliz Dead Daze!

Chicanonautica: Ernesto in Latinopia, Again

by Ernest Hogan

Suddenly, the phone rang. The antediluvian land line next to the dilapidated Rolodex that still has contact info for Ben Bova, Harlan Ellison, Ray Bradbury, among others living and dead . . . It flashed a name: JESUS TREVINO. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, so I picked up.

Jesús Salvador Treviño is the director of documentaries and television—including episodes of Star Trek Voyager. He asked what I’ve been up to. I rambled jagged fragments of the confusing situation, and, of course, mentioned Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song: 15 Gonzo Science Fiction Stories.

He suggested we do a video interview for his website, Latinopia. I said yeah, let’s do it!

And if you haven’t visited Latinopia—I highly recommend it.

So, here is:

Note that it catches me in my frequent, agitated mental state where my brain goes so fast my mouth can’t keep up and I stutter while changing my mind about what I’m saying while I’m saying it. Some people find it amusing and entertaining, while others find it disturbing and frightening—especially if I’m speaking directly to them and making eye contact.

Jesús also asked me to explain the unlikely occurrence of a boy born in East L.A. becoming a sci-fi writer:

So, I hope these provide some entertainment, and maybe some insight into my work. Meanwhile, I’m suppressing the urge to be outrageous . . .

Ernest Hogan, the Father of Chicano Science Fiction, author of Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song: 15 Gonzo Science Fiction Stories, is alive and well and living in a peculiar manner. Also, today, September 5th, is the last day to sign up for his Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style class in the Fall 2024 Palabras del Pueblo Writing Workshop.

Hey, Writers with Wild, Latinoid Imaginatons!

 

  by Ernest Hogan

Are you a writer in the Latinoid continuum with a wild imagination? Then you need to know that the deadline for signing up for Papí Sci-Fi's Ancient Chicano Sci-Fi Wisdom at the 2023 Palabras del Pueblo Writing Workshop is May 1st, and it's coming fast. 

 It's online, so you can experience it from the safety of your own home.

 Click here for more information, and to sign up.

Ernest Hogan is a very busy Father of Chicano Science Fiction this year.

Chicanonautica: From Covid Christmas to the New Year

by Ernest Hogan

I planned on heroically going on with biz here, but once again I get up, feel kinda okay, stumble through my morning routine, losing track of what I'm doing, then end up back in bed.

Gonna be a Covid Christmas! Or did it already happen? When am I writing this? Would make a great demented carol, but I can’t seem to think up anything . . .

Ah, brain fog . . . It’s some people’s idea of a good time . . . They take drugs to achieve this level of mental bizarritude . . . 

Where was I?

Oh yeah. I’m the Father of Chicano Science Fiction, a regular Papí Sci-Fi, and I have a lot of important business to take care of . . . like . . . 

 

There’s this virus transforming civilization as we know it . . . Didn’t I write a novel about that once? 

And there’s all kinds of turmoil sweeping over the planet. What the world needs now is some kinda newfangled chingadera vision to help us see a way through, or at least a few good laughs. 

Maybe I am just a slapstick comedian, writing this on his phone, in bed. 

And a new year is charging at us, so look out, amigos . . .

Ernest Hogan doesn’t usually need a virus or drugs to achieve a bizarre mental state, he just goes about his business and goes stark, raving sci-fi, whatever that means . . .

Chicanonautica: The Hazards of Writing While Chicano

by Ernest Hogan 

I recently finished a novel and am thinking about what I’m going to do with it, how I’m going to market it, and to whom, which brings me to the uneasy subject of the hazards of writing while Chicano. Also, I need to send a tip of the Hogan sombrero to Daniel Cano for bringing up the subject here a while a back. It’s a subject I can’t seem to escape from.

Being tainted by the Billy the Kid/New Mexico Irish strain and having an Irish surname, it only confuses the issue. I outed myself as a Chicano in a letter to Asimov’s Science Fiction after Norman Spinrad, in his review of my novel Cortez on Jupiter, assumed that I was an Anglo. I still insist on calling myself a Chicano, because it provides a lot of information about me without having to go into a detailed bio. I don’t mind being published in Latinx anthologies, getting published is hard enough, and I can’t afford to get choosy. I’ve also been in an Afrofuturist anthology, no to mention all those white publications I’ve been in.

The problem is the word Chicano carries some complicated baggage. I once tried to explain it to a guy in Mexico, who ended up thinking I was from Chicago. East Coasters who only run across it via Hunter S. Thompson and cop shows get the idea that it refers to a cannibalistic tribe that cruises around in lowriders selling dope and looking for virgins to sacrifice. Chicanos also aren’t traditionally considered literate, let alone writers. My very existence tests the limits of a lot of imaginations.

Editors tend to like my work, but their bosses see “Chicano” as a limited, barrio market. It’s like going up to bat with two strikes against you. And then they still feel that you have to be careful when writing about “those people” because “they get offended.”  Besides, they’re looking for bestsellers that will start franchises and be considered for TV and movie adaptation.

The pendejada is that I don't write for a small group of barrio intellectuals. I see my books as selling like crazy, shaking the world. I’ve got fans scattered all over the planet. Also in the last couple of years, I've had inquiries for the TV/film rights to all three of my novels and one of my short stories, so this may not be delusions of grandeur on my part.

So, what do I do with a novel about a Chicano science fiction writer who loses track of where his life ends and the sci-fi begins?

Should I call it science fiction emphasizing the extrapolation on the development of artificial intelligence and nanotechnology into the Singularity with an alien invasion and a Swiftian satire on 21st century U.S.A. for laughs? Or speculative fiction? In ten years working in a bookstore, and more than that in a library, no one has ever asked to see any speculative fiction–does anyone know what it is? Dare I try to pitch it as a mainstream bestseller? Can a Chicano do that?

Let’s give that a try: “It’s a modern day Don Quixote with elements of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. In the traditions of T.C. Boyle, Kurt Vonnegut, William S. Burroughs, Harlan Ellison, and Philip K. Dick.”

Uh-oh. I swerved into sci-fi territory again.

That’s a Chicano thing, though, always sauntering off where we aren’t supposed to be. 

But then where am I supposed to be? Who says I can’t be a writer? And why not sci-fi? Ain’t the whole fonqui rasquache enchilada of La Cultura of the Latinoid continuum–my beat, home turf, barrio, whatever--full of weird stuff? And doesn’t that qualify as “write what you know?”

I guess the best thing to do is just do, be as Chicano as I can, go stark raving cucuy on their asses.

Stay tuned chamacos, it’s gonna be fun!

Ernest Hogan a Chicano writer, a writer who is Chicano, and a lot of other things. 

 

Chicanonautica: Ernesto Update 2022

by Ernest Hogan

2022 is off and running. We got past January 6 without serious mayhem. Covid is still mutating and rampaging, but civilization ambles on.

And I’m still here, alive and well, as the Father of Chicano Science Fiction, doing the day job, waiting for El Porvenir ¡Ya! Citlalzazanilli Mexicatl A Chicano Science-Fiction Anthology to come out with a new story by me. If you can’t wait for another new Ernesto story, there’s one in Speculative Fiction for Dreamers: A LatinxAnthology–buy it, review it now! And it’ll be a while, but my story collection, Pancho Villa’s Flying Circus, is still a go . . .

The main thing I’m doing is fighting to concentrate on finally finishing my novel, Zyx; Or, Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin. I’m at the point where it’s all starting to come together, the end is in sight, all I have to do is sit my ass down and nail the entire gonzo mess down. And that ain’t gonna be easy.

I’ve long said that while short stories are like a bout with the flu, novels are more like demonic possession. The monster has been growing in

the back of your brain; so far it’s been fun following it around, jotting notes on the havoc it wreaks on the landscape, but now it’s time to wrestle it down and hog tie it into a conclusion that will satisfy the reader.

Yeah, both rodeo and bullfighting metaphors apply.

This is more work. You have to engage the frontal lobes. The monster drains more brainpower. You start having trouble with the routine, “normal” part of your life . . .

And of course, this takes more of your time, which triggers the diabolical cosmic machinery that throws more demands for your attention your way–like this column, and my personal blog, and my social media activities. 

I struggle to keep a public spectacle dedicated to drawing attention to my writing, rather than me blathering about my life.

It’s amazing how people don’t notice that.

It’s also a good thing that writing takes up so much of my life, and brain, that there’s not much left of anything else.

So I should get back to work. I have this complicated sequence where a lot of subplots come together with giant monsters, artificial intelligences, aliens (extraterrestrial and other), gangsters, a Chicano science fiction writer, and his crazy friends. And dammit, I keep finding places where I need to write new scenes . . .

Later I’ll worry about how to market the chingadera, and wonder if it’s possible for a Chicano to write a worldwide bestseller.

Yeah, I know, some people wish they had these kinds of problems.

Ernest Hogan has too much imagination for his own damn good. He is also the author of High Aztech, Cortez on Jupiter, and Smoking Mirror Blues.

Chicanonautica: Can a Chicano Be Mainstream?

by Ernest Hogan

Intercepted conversation from an unidentified source:

Ernest Hogan: Victor? What the fuck? It's 4:24 AM, for Tezcatlipoca’s sake! 

Victor Theremin: I'm feeling restless. Could use some writer talk. 

EH: I thought I turned my phone off . . .

VT: You know I have access to outlaw technology.

EH: What? There's video, too? I haven't downloaded any apps for that.

VT: I’ve had my hacker friends download stuff to your phone.

EH: I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s an invasion of my privacy.

VT: Is there any such thing as privacy anymore?

EH: Uh-oh. I nearly woke up my wife. I better go to the living room . . .

(The sound of footsteps, soft impacts, profanity.)

VT: There is so much to think about right now.

EH: As usual.

VT: Actually, cabrón, there's a helluva lot more than usual.

EH: Yeah, I guess you're right, with COVID, and all that political and other pendajas going on.

VT: Precisely! This is the end/beginning of new eras! And you know what that means?

EH: What? You on a beach somewhere? Why is the sky purple?

VT: It means that us Chicano science fiction writers are gonna have to rethink everything, and reconsider what we've been working on! 

EH: I know it happened to Emily.

VT: How is your wife?

EH: Restless. Eager to get on with a new phase in her life.

VT: See? There a helluvalota that going around.

EH: Just what is a helluvalota?

VT: Quit trying to change the subject.

EH: Can't help it. You knocked me out of some heavy REM sleep.

VT: I tell you, something is happening. Something planetwide. More than the pandemic, or politics, something affecting everybody’s brains . . .

EH: There you go again, losing track of where the sci-fi ends and the reality begins.

VT: I keep telling ya, it doesn’t matter these days. 

EH: Could be. I’m thinking about pitching my next novel as mainstream.

VT: What? The one with the AIs, aliens, and a character based on me?

EH: Yeah.

VT: Uh-oh, looks like you’ve gone over the bend.

EH: I don’t know. I just realized that it’s actually a modern day retelling of Don Quijote, and what could be more mainstream than that?

VT: I always considered it to be the first psychological sci-fi novel.

EH: About senile dementia?

VT: The final frontier.

EH: The problem is when I try to come up with things to compare my stuff to in the pitch, I have a hard time coming up with recent, popular sci-fi. 

VT: You’re solidly in the tradition of Ray Bradbury, Harlan Ellison, Philip K. Dick . . .

EH: Today’s sci-fi audience doesn’t remember them.

VT: Stick with sci-fi, Ernie. The truth will out!

EH: It might work better if I said I was like Hunter S. Thompson, Kurt Vonnegut, and Ishmael Reed.

VT: Like the modern reader remembers them.

EH: I know the post-Twilight/Fifty Shades of Gray audience doesn’t like to think when they read, but I keep hearing that the mainstream audience is bigger than genre. And I really would like to take the chance to actually make it big before I go back to tin-cupping it in the underground.

VT: What, you think you can be the Chicano Vonnegut?

EH: Better than being the Chicano Kilgore Trout.

VT: I thought I was the Chicano Kilgore Trout!

EH: I’ve been busting my ass as a Chicanonaut in Scifiilandia, where I’m treated like the most talented leper they've ever met, and I’d like it all to amount to something.

VT: And how has the mainstream world treated you?

EH: I still have trouble convincing them I exist. And they still give me the bum’s rush. Or take off running when they see me. And this is all before the realize I’m a Chicano.

VT: Ever thought about where sci-fi ends and the mainstream begins?

EH: A lot lately. When I shelve books at the library, I keep running into books that look interesting in the General Fiction section, and when I take a look they have science fictional plots, only they don’t have the entire universe, or even multiverse in danger, like they insist on in commercial sci-fi these days.

VT: This is the age of genre meltdown, besides, genres are just marketing gimmicks, and high-brow conceits like magic realism and speculative fiction are just pretensions for readers who want to feel intellectual.

EH: In my ten years as a bookseller, not one customer ever came in asking for magic realism or speculative fiction.

VT: So, whatcha gonna do, ese?

EH: Think I’ll keep all my options open. When trying to sell the book, I’ll start at the top, go for the dough, and if that doesn’t work out, I still have one foot stuck back in the underground.

VT: Sounds quixotic as all hell. Good boy! Uh-oh, there’s an unidentified phenomenon in the sky that I need to investigate, gotta go, bro!

Ernest Hogan is the Father of Chicano Science Fiction, and Victor Theremin is a fictional character, at least in this universe.