Science friction

"It's the dirtiest thing I've written," Anthony says. "You have this angel, who transcends past, present, and future, taking you on a guided tour that includes a lot of sex. He'll stop the story to narrate a blow-by-blow account of a couple screwing in the straw. The Elizabethan English probably means it'll take the Religious Right longer to get mad."

Ace wanted the book cut in half and the graphic sex scenes soft-pedaled. This was an impasse more treacherous--and ultimately, more final--than a dispute over a cover illustration. Susan Allison says Ace and Anthony are "in negotiation" about whether Ace will publish Mercy's Children, but Anthony and Maas have seized their option to shop the manuscript around.

"I think Patricia Anthony is a genius," Allison says flatly. "And I sincerely hope she will find a more suitable home for her talents. What she's doing is a very brave and very difficult thing. She is, in some ways, a first novelist all over again."

Allison does have a point: Indeed, why should Ace, an imprint that specializes in science fiction and fantasy, be forced to promote outside its market for one author in the stable? Anthony and Maas knew from the get-go they were signing to a sci-fi label, and they knew the contract called for genre books.

Anthony, to a certain extent, misled the publisher when she became part of Ace's stable. And she knows it.

"It's not Ace's fault," she admits. "They were buying a pig in a poke when they signed that contract. I'm sort of unusual for an author, because I don't turn in pieces of my book as I finish them; I turn in a completed manuscript. And I don't work with outlines or any kind of plan. It's difficult enough for novelists to come up with simple descriptions to pitch their books. And when editors ask me, 'What's going to happen next?' I tell them I don't know."

These days, Anthony waits for news from New York on Mercy's Children and from Hollywood on Brother Termite. In the meantime, she tends her herb garden, plays with her cats, and does research on the next book she'll write, which concerns a psychic who may also be a killer.

Preparation for the last prompts a warning from Anthony as she putters around the kitchen of her small townhouse in far North Dallas, concocting a glass of iced tea for her guest that includes homegrown herbs such as lemon verbena and thyme. "Don't get nervous about the reading material in the bathroom," she cautions. "All those books on the art of poisoning are just research."

All this stressful idleness does not pay the bills. If Anthony sells Mercy's Children to another publisher, she will have to give back the advance money Ace paid her. Not immediately, but eventually. For now, that money is helping her live while she's between publishing houses.

"I'm facing financial disaster," Anthony admits, wearily.
A source of income might--might--come Anthony's way in September. That's when James Cameron's option on Brother Termite must be renewed, or else the project will be dropped. While it's impossible to predict Hollywood decision-making through tea leaves, goat entrails, or any reliable standards of logic, there are some good signs from Cameron. After his initial 18-month option ended, he picked it up for another six months. And his company, Lightstorm Entertainment, has ponied up $30,000 to reserve the rights; average option payments are closer to $5,000. And in February, Lone Star director John Sayles, who was chosen to write the script because of his satirical skills with such genre exercises as Brother From Another Planet and The Howling, completed a final draft of the screenplay.

"I've read in different sites on the Internet that Cameron is pursuing David Cronenberg to direct," Anthony says. "But we haven't heard a peep from Lightstorm about that. I can't confirm it."

Calls to some guy named Tom (no last names, no direct extensions, please) at Lightstorm in California, and to the offices of co-president Rae Sanchini, were not returned.

Anthony can confirm that after a short telephone conversation, John Sayles sent her an early version of the script. "To my shock, he kept the ending," she says of the first draft. "He enlarged the role of a minor character. He included a satirical bit about Reen, the lead alien, getting his own show and a little merchandised Reen doll that squeaks when you squeeze it."

Anthony says she doesn't like to think about a possible film version of Brother Termite, or the fact that the development people at Disney have called and expressed an interest in Flanders. "My daughter lives in France, and a friend of hers over there says he read an interview with James Cameron in which Cameron said his next project would be about an alien. Based on what I know about what's on his plate, it seems likely that could be my alien."

She pauses. This kind of guessing game amounts to self-flagellation during this long, long wait.