Week 17 — Year of Short Stories 2026

2026 is another year of short stories. In this weekly series, I track my short story writing, from idea and draft to submission.

This is the week of Apr. 27 – May 3.

Stats

  • Stories Finished: 2
  • Submissions Currently Out: 5
  • Submissions Total: 15
  • Rejections: 14
  • Acceptances: 0

Submissions and Responses

One response this week—a rejection for The Incident at Pleasant Hills. This included a little note with some kind words for the story, but they found it too bleak for the publication. This is a good note for future submissions, and another indication that the story is being read positively, even if it hasn’t found a home yet.

Goals and Results

Last week’s goals:

  1. Revise F-TIB.

My horror/dark fantasy story, Beneath the House at Caen, went out to Critters this week. The critiques are coming in, and will continue until Wednesday. As usual, I’m only glancing at this feedback as it dribbles into my inbox. I’ll wait until the crit week is over before collecting it all into a new document, giving it an initial read-through, and sending out a brief thank you to the readers.

I think this was a productive week, but not in a way that helps my word count much. For F-TIB, I’ve been crunching down feedback into plans for revising the story. That involved mapping out the current scenes and thinking about new scenes, brainstorming a new title and new name for a major character, and deciding on some small changes that will still have significant impact on this relatively short story.

One nice thing about this planning work is that I can immediately see several low-level critiques of the story evaporate as the broader structure changes. That’s the main reason why I advocate starting with big changes and working down to the nitty-gritty, and it’s always nice when I can see that philosophy saving time and effort.

I’ve also been working on my foray into solarpunk, Arbor Grove. When I talked about exploratory writing last week, this is the story I was thinking about. I knocked out 2,400 words of Arbor Grove with only some vague ideas of an event that ties the beginning and end together. What I found was that the story had gotten bogged down in boring scenes and failed to do anything interesting.

So, much like F-TIB, I mostly spent my time staring at the screen rather than typing. I’m working through the things that excite me about the story and the things that are dragging it down, and just articulating those things really helps clarify the direction I should be going. I expect some sort of outline to come out of this process, and I will likely end up throwing most of those 2,400 words away, but they were worthwhile as a way to refine the story.

Next Week

My single goal last week was to work on F-TIB because it’s the story that’s closest to completion. Soon I’ll have critique revisions to work on for Beneath the House at Caen. But I’m also enjoying working on Arbor Grove, and I like to indulge the muse by following a project when it feels productive and fun.

At the risk of splitting my focus, I’m setting a few goals for next week.

  1. Submit The Incident at Pleasant Hills
  2. Continue revising F-TIB.
  3. Outline Arbor Grove (and maybe start on the next version)
  4. Review critiques for Beneath the House at Caen.

Solarpunk Syllabus

I recently purchased a solarpunk anthology, and it led me into a minor fixation on this lesser-known sub-genre of science fiction. Last week I wrote an introduction to solarpunk, but I’ve barely scratched the surface. I’ve been exploring the web to find more, and compiling a little syllabus for my own self-directed course.

Since I’m taking the time to write it all down, I figured I might as well put it out as a resource for anyone else who is interested in digging a little deeper. (As usual, I’m providing Bookshop.org affiliate links where possible – these support me and local bookstores.)

It’s interesting to note that most of the solarpunk fiction I’ve found so far is anthologized short stories—fitting considering my renewed focus on short fiction this year.

Short Fiction

Novels

(Retroactively Categorized as Solarpunk)

Articles and Essays

Posts and Lists

Related

Solarpunk 101

The term “solarpunk” has been on my radar for a couple years: a fuzzy idea of a genre that has ecology and climate change near its center, and the overused “-punk” suffix that we can no longer trust to have much real meaning.

When I finally picked up an actual solarpunk anthology at my local Half-Price Books, the introduction sent me spiraling down an Internet rabbit hole. I found myself with 30 tabs of solarpunk open, at least that many already combed through, and a small pile of dead links and dead ends.

The term solarpunk is now more than a decade old, but it still exists in the periphery, the outskirts and wild country of sci-fi, futurism, fashion, and politics. It may be a short-lived idea that never achieves critical mass. Only time will tell if it’s something that has actually taken root and begun to grow.

As evidence of this tenuous position, I submit most articles, posts, and papers that mention solarpunk. The vast majority are just like this one: explanations that attempt to answer “What is it, really?”

And yet, there is a cult following. Among this small cohort, there is clearly a hunger for more of this genre and aesthetic. There appears to be a demand that far outstrips the supply (a couple anthologies, small online magazines, and a smattering of discourse).

I’d love to talk about where solarpunk might go, and how it can grow and gain traction. But I’ll have to save that for later posts. First, I have to start where everyone starts. What is solarpunk?

Origins

The first piece of Solarpunk literature generally cited is Solarpunk: Historias Ecologicas e Fantasticas em um Mundo Sustentavel—a 2013 Brazilian anthology, first published in English in 2018.

Another widely cited early work is a Tumblr post that popularized the term on that platform. The tag now has 20k followers.

Solarpunk – Notes Toward a Manifesto is a somewhat more academic treatment of the nascent movement and the ideas that influence it.

The Aesthetics of Solarpunk

There aren’t any. Not really.

Well, okay, that’s just my personal position. Others will disagree.

There aren’t any. Not really. This is my position. Others will disagree.

Plants and nature have an obvious place in it. Stained glass and art nouveau have been proposed as a component. Reclaimed and recycled materials, decomposable and natural materials; metal, glass, fabric, stone and wood. Less plastic. Or the polar opposite of Apple’s design philosophies.

A fair amount of ink has been spilled trying to corral an aesthetic, but these attempts often come at it from the wrong direction. You can’t start with an aesthetic and then back into a genre from there. The recognizable elements of cyberpunk and steampunk were distilled from many examples of those genres.

I’d argue that there simply aren’t enough popular examples of solarpunk to achieve the critical mass needed for generally agreed-upon aesthetics to emerge. That’s okay. It’s exciting. The field is still wide open, and resonant ideas still have a chance to shape what the genre might become.

The Politics of Solarpunk

If the “punk” in cyberpunk and steampunk ever held any political connotations, I would argue that they have long been ground down and worn out. The philosophy of cyberpunk is largely nihilistic: a wildly unequal world full of wealth disparity, desperation, and hopelessness, where the unification of corporate greed and governmental control has made the rich practically unassailable. If I were a cynic, I might say it’s a slightly grimier, neon-lighted version of the world we appear to be living in.

The politics of steampunk is anachronistic Victorian British, which isn’t much better.

Solarpunk might have more right to claim “punk” than its older siblings. It has an inherently political core: a belief that the average Joe has the duty to fight back against the status quo, that the system dominated by corporatism, greed, indifference to human rights, and ecological catastrophe must be overthrown. It’s a belief in individualism and self-sufficiency, but also in local small communities, human- and environmentally-conscious economics, and grassroots support systems.

This is a modern twist on the original punk movement of the 70s and 80s, strongly anti-authority and inherently suspicious of both government and corporatism. Wild and chaotic, but also joyful in a way that only people living on the edge of desperation can be.

Solarpunk currently has a streak of willful nonviolence (at least toward people). This, perhaps, runs contrary to the punk ethos that if The Man is going to push you down, you had better go down swinging, and knock some of his teeth out along the way. I suspect there might be a real audience for a rougher, more violent strain of eco-fiction like this, but I’m not sure it could call itself solarpunk.

The Challenges of Writing Solarpunk

The first challenge, as you might already suspect, is trying to define the boundaries of the genre and writing within them. Solarpunk invites you to choose your own adventure, and then find out whether others think you’ve hit the mark.

The second, and much bigger problem, I feel, is that solarpunk strives for a utopic vision, and utopias are dangerously boring. Nobody wants to read a story where all the challenges and difficulties have been smoothed out. That’s why so many utopias turn out to be dystopias once the protagonist discovers a few nasty truths.

Luckily, the road to utopia is rough, and there are plenty of solarpunk stories to be told along the way. I see the best place for solarpunk stories living in the time between the present and some glorious, distant future.

That brings us to the third challenge: imagining solutions to very hard, very real problems. We don’t live in a solarpunk utopia today because there are daunting technological, societal, political, and economic challenges that prevent it. Those conflicts and tensions are fertile ground for stories, but they also require some serious thought about how we should try to overcome them.

The soft sci-fi of technobabble problems and technobabble solutions don’t work well here. The readers of today are all too familiar with climate change, oligopoly, and enshittification. A story that proposes half-hearted or unrealistic solutions to these modern woes will fall flat. It’s not easy to imagine solutions (or even battle tactics) that feel plausible. And yet, this is one of the great delights of science fiction, and a reason why the genre continues to inspire the real future. People use stories to make sense of the world.

Future Positive

I hope this brief introduction has whet your appetite for more. Although it’s young, solarpunk strikes me as a genre that is shockingly well-suited to the current moment. We don’t need the nihilism of cyberpunk or the escapist fantasy of steampunk. We need something grounded and fighting mad.

Solarpunk takes the energy and anti-authority attitude of classic punk, and marries it with determined optimism and ethical technology. It is a rebuttal to the world outside the window, and an opportunity to imagine better futures.

The Story Idea Vault — Garbage Miner

It’s a common misconception that a great idea makes a great story. The truth is that most great stories come down to execution. A great idea with poor execution rarely works, but a great writer can breathe new life into even the most tired tropes.

Like any writer, I have my own treasure trove of ideas that might end up in a story…someday. But why horde them? Instead, I’m opening the vault and setting them free.

Feel free to use these ideas as a weekly writing prompt, or come up with your own twist and reply in the comments.

Idea of the Week – Garbage Miner

In the future, all sorts of resources are scarce. Precious metals that were once easily strip mined from the surface have now been exhausted. Luckily, new processes and advances in biotech make possible the separation and disassembly of all sorts of materials.

The rise in prices of many commodities makes it cost-efficient to mine the past. Huge companies crop up to dig up and process old landfills. Historic buildings are stripped for parts and rebuilt with futuristic, cheap materials. In some places, the flora, fauna, and the soil itself are churned up for the valuable trace elements absorbed from previous centuries’ pollution.

What are the consequences of these shortages? How do these new “mines” and “factories” impact the communities around them. Are people desperate for the lifestyle these once-ubiquitous materials afford them? Or do they try to change society so we can all live comfortably (or uncomfortably) without?