These squares were not just pretty parks, they were the entertainment multiplexes of their day, laid out with pleasure pavilions where theatrical and musical performances took place, and the wealthy could eat and socialise. Having an address facing or adjoining one of the squares conferred significant social standing, and such sites could be sold or leased at a significant premium over less desirable sites.

Today we take you on a whistle stop tour of Dublin’s Georgian Squares, most of which are easily visited from the Worldcon venues.

St. Stephen’s Green

Our first stop is not actually a Georgian Square, but actually much older. It takes its name from the House of St Stephen, a Leper house founded in 1192, and was originally an area of common land for animal grazing. By 1610, it was already enclosed by streets, and in 1664 it was taken over by Dublin Corporation and enclosed by walls. Land surrounding the green could be leased from Dublin Corporation for one penny per square foot.

However, many of the early developments were rebuilt during the Georgian period, and many of the buildings from the period still standing today, with very fine examples on all four sides, and an unbroken terrace of fine Georgian houses still running the entire length of the East side.

Among the fine buildings on the square is the Royal College of Surgeons, established by royal charter in 1784, it did not have its own premises until it acquired its site on Stephen’s Green.

The original walls of the park were replaced by railings in 1814, and it opened to the public in 1880.

During the Easter Rising of 1916, rebels led by Constance Markievicz took up position in Stephen’s Green and a pitched battle was fought for most of the rising. However, a temporary armistice was agreed to allowed the groundskeeper to feed the ducks. A bust of Markievicz can now be found in the park.

Parnell Square

The oldest of Dublin’s actual Georgian squares, Parnell Square was originally named “Rutland Square” and was conceived by two men, Dr Bartholemew Mosse and Luke Gardiner. Dr Mosse leased four acres to build a “lying-in” hospital for less wealthy residents of the city. To fund his hospital, he developed the square and sold plots around it.

At its height the square had its own orchestra, and the former entertainment pavilions were developed into the Gate Theatre and the Ambassador Cinema (no longer a cinema).

One of the finest houses built on the square was built for Lord Charlemont by renowned architect William Chambers, which is now home to the Hugh Lane Gallery. Next door to this is the Dublin Writers’ Museum, which is well worth a visit.

The hospital became the Rotunda Maternity and gradually expanded to take over much of the area of the square. A strip along the northern edge became the Garden of Remembrance. Originally this was dedicated to Irish Men and Women killed in the 1916 rising, it has since been rededicated to remember Irish citizens who died in all wars.

There are current plans for Parnell Square to be the centrepiece of Dublin’s new cultural quarter, with a new central library next to the Hugh Lane Gallery. Unfortunately these plans have run into funding difficulties, but hopefully at least the new library will get the go-ahead.

Merrion Square

Perhaps the finest and best preserved of Dublin’s squares is Merrion Square, originally laid out in 1762 when James FitzGerald, the Earl of Kildare (who later became the Duke of Leinster) selected to build his house, now Leinster House, on the south side of the city. Prior to this, the north side was the fashionable area, but many landowners followed him and by 1800, the streets around Merrion Square were amongst the most fashionable to live in.

Leinster House was was sold in 1815 to the Royal Dublin Society. In 1922 it was leased by the newly formed Irish Free State government, and eventually bought outright, and is still home to the Irish Parliament. Adjacent to it are the National History museum and the National Gallery (and around the other side, on Kildare Street, the National Museum and National Library).

The park was only open to residents who had a key until the 1960s, but has since been taken over by Dublin Corporation and turned into a public park. It is now home to a number of monuments, including a statue of Oscar Wilde (who previously lived across the road in number 1). Other famous residents include W.B. Yeats and Daniel O’Connell.

The south side of the square formally housed the Dublin Institute of Advanced Studies, where Erwin Schrödinger was employed from 1940 to 1958. Schrödinger, an outspoken critic of the Nazis, was fired from the university of Graz for “political unreliability”, and received an invitation to come to Dublin to head up De Valera’s new institute, which he accepted. He became a naturalised Irish citizen, though he retained his Austrian citizenship.

Mountjoy Square

While Merrion Square was attracting wealthy nobles south of the Liffey, the north side wasn’t going to give up without a fight, and in 1787 Luke Gardiner laid out a new square, a short distance from Rutland (Gardiner) Square. Originally called Gardiner Square, it was renamed Mountjoy Square when Gardiner became the 1st Viscount Mountjoy in 1795.

It is the only one of Dublin’s Georgian squares that is actually a square, with each side 140m in length. The houses are a uniform design, with the latest modern design features of the late 18th century, such as coal holes built into the pavement to allow coal to be poured into underground bunkers, minimising mess.

During the 19th century, many of the wealthier residents left, and many of the buildings were subdivided into tenements occupied by many families of lower social standing. Often these were poorly maintained, and the condition of the buildings deteriorated. A number of buildings were demolished around the square in the mid 20th century, particularly on the southern side where only three original houses remained. At one point it looked like large parts of Georgian Dublin might be set for demolition. Thankfully, thanks to the intervention of wealthy benefactors, the frontages of the demolished houses have since been restored, and the square restored to its former glory, even if the interior of many of the restored houses is not the original design.

Notable residents included playwright Sean O’Casey, who lived at number 35. All three of his Dublin trilogy plays were set in tenement houses, clearly inspired by the square.

Fitzwilliam Square

A short distance to the south of Merrion Square lies Fitzwilliam Square named after Irish Viscount Richard FitzWilliam. It was laid out in 1791 and received strong early interest. However, due to wars with France and concern about the impending act of union, only four houses were built by 1797, and it would take another 30 years to complete.

Despite this, the houses surrounding Fitzwilliam square are remarkably consistent architecturally. While smaller than the other squares, it is fully enclosed by fine terraced houses, and features some of Dublin’s finest Georgian architecture.

Perhaps the most photographed of Dublin’s famous Georgian doors can be found at number 46. Curiously, the door itself is not from the Georgian period, but is actually Edwardian, having been replaced nearly 100 years after the death of George IV.

The park itself is not open to the public (for a time there was a lunchtime food market on Fridays, but this isn’t currently running).

Artist Jack B. Yeats lived in number 18 from 1929 till his death in 1957. The Jameson family, famous for their whiskey, also had a house on the square.

Mount Pleasant Square

After the Act of Union in 1801, Ireland no longer had its own parliament or House of Lords, and many nobles no longer felt the need to maintain a house here. Many of those who still came to Dublin opted to sell their large properties and keep a smaller house that was easier to maintain. The suburbs of Ranelagh and Rathmines sprang up and became popular with the downsized wealthy class.

Mount Pleasant Square (which is not even remotely square in shape), was established by Terence Dolan, a glove maker from Chester, in 1807, and development carried on until the 1830s. Houses on the square are mostly two and three story houses over basements, built in the style of miniature versions of the Georgian terraces of the city centre.

The central gardens were originally built for the residents to enjoy, but proved two costly to maintain for the more middle class residents, and it was eventually sold. It now houses the Mount Pleasant Lawn Tennis Club. A small strip of of park remains on the eastern edge. This was threatened with development into a garage in the 1990s, but thanks to public outcry, the development was prevented and it is now a public park.

Planning your Worldcon trip? Check out this handy map showing every place Touring Tuesdays has visited.

James Shields is coordinator for the Touring Tuesdays blog, and is also working on the Children’s Programme team as well as producing the Hugo Awards finalists announcement video for Dublin 2019. Outside of conventions, James is a massive LEGO fan and a former LEGO ambassador for Ireland and a founding member of Brick.ie, the Irish Association for Adult Fans of LEGO.

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I hesitate to romanticize being Irish, or Ireland in general. It is a place; people live here. Occasionally we get things right, often we get them wrong. Some things are improving. Others aren’t. It rains.

One thing Ireland is particularly known for is being a nation of ‘writers and storytellers,’ which does sound extremely impressive, especially on a tourism brochure. Unlike a lot of preconceptions about Ireland, this has the benefit of being true. We buy a lot of books here. We fiercely defend indie bookstores. Despite the recent recession, more and more literary festivals are popping up each year like flowers after rain. It is completely normal, at a large family gathering, for that nine-foot tall lumpen uncle who spends three hundred and sixty-four days of the year communicating solely in frowns (every Irish family has one of these) to suddenly stand and recite a fifteen-minute-long poem from memory.

When I visit a school to talk about books, I don’t like to put anyone on the spot by asking who wants to be a writer, but I’ve visited schools where every single student puts up their hands. Teachers tell me with pride that ‘some schools are rugby schools and other schools are football schools, this is a writing school.’

And nowhere is this passion for storytelling clearer than Dublin. Writers like Joyce, O’Brien and Swift loom large, of course, but they are a bedrock, a fertile soil for a living, vibrant ecosystem. When I first moved to Dublin, it seemed that every single pub had its own spoken word night. There was Nighthawks in the Cobalt Café, Brown Bread Mixtape in the Stag’s Head, Milk & Cookies Storytelling in the Exchange. The International Bar has a different event on every night of the week, from the Monday Echo to Playtyme to the Underground Beat. And in all these places there was an unseen compact particular to storytelling and spoken word – the audience were on your side. Nobody heckled or tried to throw you off-balance. They wanted you to succeed.

The comedian Hannah Gadsby, in her sublime Netflix special Nanette, described comedy as ‘trauma and punchline,’ whereas storytelling, in contrast, offers more by being made of ‘beginning, middle and end.’ Storytelling isn’t a binary art. In comedy, if the audience aren’t laughing you aren’t doing your job. Storytelling offered more options – from the sweet to the sad to the scary.

Of course, you can only rely on the audience’s charity so far. The first time I told a story in public, it was an unmitigated disaster. I had written a short story about a father who, every night, brought dinner in bed to his daughter. He would lay everything out perfectly on a tray and tell her a story about how she was going to grow up and become a princess, or a pirate, or a poet. She knew that he was lying. She knew, and the reader knew too, from the machines and tubes and soft ragged beeps crowding the corners of her room, that it was unlikely that she would grow up at all. But it was the performance that was important, for both.

I decided to tell this story at an open-mic storytelling night called Milk & Cookies. There were two things I didn’t know. The first was what the etiquette was after finishing the story. Did I bow? Was that too formal? Did I just leave the stage? The second was that the nights were themed, and unbeknownst to me, the theme of this night was truth or false, where the audience would cheer if they thought the story was true, and boo if they thought it was false.

I arrived, signed up, listened to stories about old gods and bad break-ups, and then my turn arrived. I was incredibly nervous – the kind of nerves that can only come from meeting the gaze of fifty expectant faces. I stammered through my story (a story written in first-person; this is important) eyes for the most part on the floor, and when I finished…

Silence.

A long silence.

And then a girl at the front whispered, ‘Oh my god.’

Not knowing what to do, I ran back to my seat. The MC shuffled back on stage, looking as awkward as I felt, and said ‘Oh. Oh dude. Um. Obviously, we’re not going to ask you if that’s true or not. We’re so… so sorry.’

Which is when I realized all of them thought that my nerves were sadness, and my story was true. I immediately apologized profusely, and the tension in the air escaped like air from a balloon. That was the moment I learned that, far from being scary or judgemental or disinterested, audiences want to trust a performer or author. They give you that gift – you just have to make sure you don’t screw it up.

The spoken word scene here is still vibrant – full of veteran performers and new talents taking their first steps onto the stage. The International Bar is a must, as is the Poetry Ireland list of open mic opportunities. Sometimes clichés are there for a reason. There is a vein of story in Ireland, rich and beating beneath our skin, and if you’re travelling here for Worldcon, or just passing through in general, it’s a vein you should seek out. Maybe you’ll decide you want to tell a story yourself.

Just maybe check is the night themed first.

Dave Rudden is the author of the award-winning Knights of the Borrowed Dark trilogy and the Doctor Who anthology Twelve Angels Weeping. He enjoys cats, good beard maintenance and being cruel to fictional teenagers. Follow him at @d_ruddenwrites.

The post Touring Tuesdays: The Spoken City by Dave Rudden appeared first on Dublin 2019.

Dublin is a city rich in history, mystery and replete with a host of spooky stories. The city dates from the 9th century, when the Viking settlement at Woodquay was founded. Throughout its long history, Dublin has been a turbulent place. Witchcraft, murder, revolution, secret societies, even whispering mummies, this city has seen it all. At this time of year, in the country that gave the world Samhain (or Halloween), there’s a lot of spooky to go around. Here are five of my favourites.

Hellfire Club & Killakee House

Founded in 1737, the Hell Fire Club quickly became notorious for its evil antics. The former meeting ground is said to be haunted by some of these dark deeds.

The lone building known today as the Hellfire Club, perched on top of Mont Pelier hill, was built as a Hunting Lodge by one William Connolly, the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons in 1725. He was one of the richest men in Ireland. When the lodge was built, however, the builders used stones from the stone cairn, which would have been known locally as a fairy fort. Disturbing one is considered very unfortunate and bad luck always follows their destruction. The slate roof blew off the building in a storm and a massive arched roof of stones was built to replace it, the flat stones from the cairn incorporated into this, further compounding the sin. Connolly didn’t get much use from the lodge. He died in 1729.

The lodge was let to the Hell Fire Club, headed by Richard Parsons, the Earl of Rosse, and became the haunt for a number of Dublin rakes, notorious for drunkenness, debauchery, orgies and occult activities. Jonathan Swift called them “a brace of Monsters, Blasphemers and Bacchanalians”. Parsons was known as The King of Hell, and presided over the meetings. Perhaps it attracted some occult attention of its own. Stories began to grow about the club. Like the story of Loftus Hall, the devil is said to have arrived one night to play cards with the members, beating all there until someone discovered his cloven hooves, whereupon he vanished. A large black cat was also associated with the area, an evil creature which appeared to be at the centre of the occult activities. Stories vary as to whether this cat was part of a ritual gone wrong or a demon in feline form, but the cat has been seen there and in nearby Kilakee Stewards house. A young man who went to investigate the revels was found the following morning wandering the hillside in shock, unable to speak or hear for the rest of his life.

According to legend, the building burnt down when an unfortunately footman spilled brandy on “Burn-Chapel” Whaley’s coat, who retaliated by dousing the man in brandy and setting him alight. The resulting fire killed many members of the club and left the lodge a ruin. That didn’t stop the members of the Hellfire Club, who relocated to Kilakee Stewards House, where they reportedly kidnapped, murdered and ate a local farmer’s daughter. A number of apparitions still linger around the Stewards House, the spectoral black cat, and a pair of nuns who were said to have taken part in black masses at the lodge. The sound of bells, and poltergeist activity has also been reported, and a small, misshapen figure has been seen sometimes with the cat. A skeleton was found in 1971 by workmen, described as being that of a child or a dwarf murdered by the Hellfire Club.

During recent archaeological excavations of the remains of the cairn, items such as worked flint and part of a polished stone axe head were discovered, suggesting a Neolithic construction date. The big discovery was megalithic art carved on a stone which had apparently been in plain sight all along. It was only thanks to the low autumn sun casting shadows that one of the archaeologist recognised the markings, which date the tomb at 5,000 years old, as old as it’s more famous cousin Newgrange in Co. Meath. The stone is now in the National Museum of Ireland for further study.

Darkey Kelly

The notorious Darkey Kelly was burnt as a witch in 1746 after she accused the Sherriff of Dublin, Simon Luttrell, of fathering her child. Dorcas Kelly was keeper of the Maiden Tower brothel in Copper Alley, off Fishamble Street and that she tried to blackmail Luttrell by threatening to reveal not just his illegitimate child, but also his membership of the Hellfire Club. The story says he took the child from her, killed it in a Satanic ritual and accused her of witchcraft. However, new evidence found in the newspapers of the time in the National Archives, has suggested that she was accused of murdering a shoemaker John Dowling and on investigation, the bodies of five other men were found in the vaults under the brothel. Following her trial and execution the prostitutes rioted for days in Copper Alley.

The Green Lady, a famous Dublin ghost frequently seen near St Audeons Church and in the streets near Christchurch Cathedral (streets once known as Hell), is said to be Darkey Kelly.

St. Michan’s Church

On the site of a Viking chapel, dating from 1095, the current church dates from 1686. Handel is reputed to have composed The Messiah on the organ here. But the church is best known for the vaults beneath it. The vaults are famous for their mummies, the limestone in the building drying the air and helping to preserve the bodies. Among those preserved are the 400 year old body of a nun, a man thought to have been a crusader and the Sheares brothers who took part in the rebellion of 1798. The warm, dry air which preserves their bodies makes the reports of icy fingers touching the backs of visitors’ necks even stranger. Others say they have heard disembodied voices whispering from the shadows or feel a cold, clammy presence as they look upon the dead.

Marsh’s Library

The ghost of Narcissus Marsh, Archbishop of Dublin, is said to haunt the library he founded, next to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. By night, he wanders the shelves, browsing through the books, searching for something. Marsh founded the library in 1707 as the first public library in Dublin and it is still in use today, unchanged for three centuries, many of the books on the same beautiful dark oak shelves allocated to them by March and Elias Bouhéreau, the first librarian.

The popular story of the ghost concerns Marsh’s niece Grace, who acted as his housekeeper and who, at 19, eloped with Charles Proby, the vicar of Castleknock. It is said that Grace left a note for her uncle in one of the books before they eloped, but he did not find it in time and is still looking for it (Although they must have made up at some point as Grace returned to nurse her uncle in his old age) . The ghost is said to haunt the inner gallery, which was his private collection, moving in and out of the shelves, taking down books and sometimes throwing them on the desks in anger or frustration, although he always leaves the library in perfect order when he’s done.

Boyd’s Dog

On the 8th February, 1861, the worst storm ever recorded in the Irish Sea sank 135 vessels, 13 in the area around Dun Laoghaire Harbour. The crew of the coastguard ship, the Ajax, were among those searching the wreckage, under Captain John McNeill Boyd, trying to rescue the men of the stricken ship the Nepture, which had hit the rocks off the East Pier. Heavily dressed for cold weather, the men found ropes, lashed themselves together and hurried out onto the rocks off the East Pier when a large wave, said to be as high as a mountain, crashed over the, sweeping them all into the sea. Boyd and five of his men were lost. Their bodies were not found for several days and Boyd himself was not found for several weeks. In the meantime the lifeboat from the Ajax continued to patrol, searching for them, with Boyd’s faithful black dog in the prow of the boat.

The crew were buried in the graveyard at Carrickbrennan in Monkstown, near Dun Laoghaire. Boyd himself was buried in the grounds of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, with a memorial to him erected inside the Cathedral itself. It was reported to be one of the biggest funerals ever seen in Dublin and the Captain’s dog walked behind the hearse. It guarded his body while it lay in state in the Cathedral and lay on top of the grave, refusing to move in spite of attempts to entice it away or feed it, until it died.

The ghostly form of a large black dog is still frequently reported at Boyd’s grave, at the foot of the memorial in the Cathedral and, late at night, running across the road to the now closed Carrickbrennan graveyard in Monkstown where the rest of the crew were buried. Perhaps Boyd’s dog watches over the Ajax crew still.

There are so many more stories of Dublin to be explored and experienced. We haven’t touched on the Blood Fields, Billy in the Bowl, or the phantom coach drawn by black horses thundering through cobbled streets. Just walking around the city can give the impression of stepping back in time. No wonder it has inspired so many tales of the fantastic.

Ruth Frances Long writes dark young adult fantasy, often about scary fairies, such as The Treachery of Beautiful Things, and the Dubh Linn trilogy: A Crack in Everything, A Hollow in the Hills and A Darkness at the End. (O’Brien Press, 2016). As R. F. Long, she also writes fantasy and paranormal romance. As Jessica Thorne she writes commercial fantasy/Space Opera. The first book in the series is The Queen’s Wing (Bookouture, 2018), with a sequel to follow in early 2019.

In 2015 she won the European Science Fiction Society Spirit of Dedication Award for Best Author of Children’s Science Fiction and Fantasy.

The post Touring Tuesdays: Through Streets Broad and Narrow – Top 5 Spooky Dublin Locations appeared first on Dublin 2019.

One of the many benefits about being a volunteer for Dublin 2019 – An Irish Worldcon is that I get to learn about Ireland, a place that I know virtually nothing about. As one who is new to Irish culture, I found myself wondering where to start. So, naturally, I turned to the Irish locals on our team.

During the Programme team’s brainstorming discussion about titles, this one caught my attention: “Harping On About Programme.”  Clearly, there was a significant double meaning at play, and I was clueless about the significance of the harp. Aha! The perfect topic to explore!

My Google-fu unearthed a treasure trove of history and images in which I learned that the Irish harp (cláirseach) is not only the Dublin 2019 logo, but it is also the official emblem of Ireland. Not just any harp either, but this one, the Brian Boru Harp, which dates back to possibly the fourteenth century, and is now located at Trinity College in Dublin. Fittingly, Brian Boru is celebrated as a patron of the arts and Dublin 2019 is bringing the speculative arts to Ireland, hosting the next Worldcon where makers and artists from around the globe come together to celebrate and share all that the arts has to offer.

For me as a Californian, discovering the magic and mythology behind the Harp and it’s intrinsic connection to Dublin 2019 and fandom is terribly romantic. It is through these multiple layers, connecting art, literature, and fandom where the real magic of Dublin 2019 happens. 

Perhaps my favorite Google-fu discovery was this photo of the Samuel Beckett Bridge in Dublin, located just beyond the Convention Center Dublin. It’s moody and modern, but still evokes the traditional harp features, if not throwing in a little bit of futuristic flare that (again) is yet another connection to the themes and flavor of next year’s Worldcon.

While musical and evocative in nature, “harp” carries with it other meanings as well. I could continue harping on about the Brian Boru Harp and the Samuel Beckett Bridge, or I could harp on about the Dublin 2019 programme and introduce you to a few of the programme participants who I am looking forward to meeting! So, let’s harp on about Worldcon.

Programme Guests at Worldcon Dublin

Though it may seem early to some, the Dublin 2019 Programme team has already shared a short list of early confirmed programme participants who are joining us in Dublin. I was delighted to find many of my favorites included on the early confirmed list of Programme participants.

FONDA LEE

Bio: Fonda Lee is the author of Jade City (Orbit), the first book in the Green Bone Saga, which was a finalist for the Nebula, Locus, and World Fantasy Awards, and named a Best Book of 2017 by NPR, Barnes & Noble, Powell’s Books, and Syfy Wire, among others. Her young adult science fiction novels Zeroboxer (Flux), Exo and Cross Fire (Scholastic) have garnered numerous accolades including being Junior Library Guild Selections, Andre Norton Award finalists, and Oregon Book Award finalists. Fonda is a recovering corporate strategist, black belt martial artist, Eggs Benedict

I really enjoyed the two panels I attended at Worldcon76 in San Jose that featured Fonda Lee as a moderator/panelist.  Her knowledge of martial arts (she holds black belts in Karate and Kungfu) coupled with her writing expertise riveted the attendees at the panel. It was pretty much standing room only for that topic of Writing About Fighting.

Additionally at Worldcon 76, Fonda was on the panel on YA literature, along with the very fun Gail Carriger (steampunk Soulless series) and new to me Scott Sigler (Galactic Football League). Though I had discovered Fonda Lee through Jade City (because who can resist an Asian inspired gangster fantasy with kungfu?), turns out she cut her teeth on a YA series about martial arts fighting in zero gravity. At this panel, I loved hearing about how librarians gave feedback to these authors, the concept of the “reluctant reader” and things that helped me tremendously as a parent of one such “reluctant reader.”

Q. How many World Cons have you attended?
A. Four

Q. Where was the first one?
A. Spokane.

Q. You’re confirmed for Dublin. Are you planning to do any sight seeing before or after the con? Anything in particular?
A. Yes, I’m planning a family vacation in Ireland. I’m hoping to spend some time exploring Dublin, and definitely want to make some trips out to see the Cliffs of Moher and some castles.

Q. What was your favorite fan encounter at San Jose?
A. I moderated a panel with Peter S. Beagle. That was pretty awesome.

Q. Food(s) you’re going to try in Dublin?
A. Some Irish stew and soda bread would make me very happy.

Q. When I was sitting in on a panel, an author gave an inside scoop that hadn’t been announced yet. That was pretty exciting. Do you think you’ll be able to do something similar at Dublin?
A. I’m not sure I’ll have any inside scoops, but I’ll have a new book to celebrate, as Jade War will be released that summer.

Q. When you signed a copy of Jade City for me, I was super impressed when you whipped out a green pen. Do you have certain pens you love? Do you ever draft longhand?
A. Oh hell, no. I’m very fond of my gel roller signing pens, but I’d never draft longhand; it would take me 5 years to get through a single draft, and that would make my publishers and readers quite unhappy.

JOHN CHU

Bio: John Chu is a microprocessor architect by day, a writer, translator, and podcast narrator by night. His fiction has appeared or is forthcoming at Boston Review, Uncanny, Asimov’s Science Fiction, Clarkesworld, and Tor.com among other venues. His translations have been published at Clarkesworld, The Big Book of SF and other venues. His story “The Water That Falls on You from Nowhere” won the 2014 Hugo Award for Best Short Story.

I was fortunate enough to have a lively lecture from John Chu at Viable Paradise last year.  I don’t know what I expected from this Hugo award winner, but he blew my expectations away. John Chu is an avid enthusiast of improv and his talk on how a writer can “steal shamelessly” from the improv book gave me strong tools to tune up my writing. If you’ve ever done any improv before, then you probably already know the first rule of improv: “YES and…”

This first rule is a great guide for flash fiction, and also I find that it helps your protagonist make the more interesting choice.

John expanded beyond that one well-known rule to also add:

• Don’t subtract from the information already given;
• Scenes should be implicitly dramatic
• Do not include pointless mystery
• Play to the top of your intelligence (trust your reader)

I especially loved the “do not include pointless mystery” as it forces the writer to ask, “is this part necessary? Does it drive the plot forward?” John and I corresponded about Worldcons in general and Worldcon Dublin in particular:

Q. How many World Cons have you attended?
A. I’ve been to four (not including Dublin).

Q. Where was the first one?
A. 2012 in Chicago.

Q. You’re confirmed for Dublin.  Are you planning to do any sight seeing before or after the con? Anything in particular?
A. I haven’t had a chance to plan the trip yet. Sight-seeing would be great if I turn out to have the vacation days to spare. We’ll see what happens.

Q. Writers are fans first. Did you have a favorite author encounter at any other Worldcons? Who?
A. My author encounters at Worldcons have pretty much all involved me melting down and stammering incoherently at them. If I’m lucky, none of those authors remember this.

Q. I’m really excited to see Charlaine Harris and Fonda Lee on this list for Dublin. Any big fan fave of yours on this list?
A. Honestly, there are so many amazing people on that list. I’m especially thrilled to see that Sofia Samatar will be there, though. Her work is amazing and I don’t know that she attends many cons.

Q. Food(s) you’re going to try in Dublin?
A. Food is how I learn about an area. Last year, basically, if it was Finnish, I probably tried it. I’ll probably do the same in Dublin. (Again, though, I haven’t had a chance to do the research.)

Q. Do you ever wear a costume to cons? What would it be if you did?
A. I’m in awe of cosplayers. Their work is always so jaw-dropping. That said, it’s not something I’ve ever done. Put me in a mesh tank top and cargo pants, though, and I’m probably engaging in Accidental Warboy Cosplay.

Q. I really enjoyed your lecture during Viable Paradise and improv. Will you be doing something similar for your Dublin panel?
A. I’m glad you liked the lecture. It’s stlll very much a Work In Progress. I’m always futzing with it. I’m open to lots of possibilities for Dublin and haven’t settled on anything yet.

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One day I was mooching around in Dublin (it was my birthday, I was allowed to mooch) and I found an angel. I didn’t just find an angel, as it turned out. I found a whole world. A new story.

Halfway down South William Street, painted on doors leading to an alleyway or loading area, was the black and white graffiti angel which inspired everything about A Crack in Everything and the world of Dubh Linn. She was beautiful, mysterious, with the sense of the Mona Lisa about her. Her eyes followed you as you walked by. No one seemed to know who had painted her there.

And now, of course, as is the nature of all fae and ephemeral things, she is gone. Painted over. For a while the doors led to a nightclub which was also fitting, as the angel leads Izzy to Silver’s Hollow, a fae nightclub deep within the parallel dimension which holds the city of Dubh Linn. But now, this appears to be gone as well. What will arrive there next? Anyone’s guess. I for one can’t wait to find out. I’m told the angel herself can be found in a bar up the road, overseeing us all but I haven’t gone to look. I recently found her, in a much smaller form, in a coffee shop all the way out in Dalkey. She’s keeping an eye on me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Writing about Dublin takes you down the streets broad and narrow of Molly Malone, the wide Georgian avenues of the 18th century reconstruction of Dublin, when the Wide Street Commission (or more properly Commissioners for making Wide and Convenient Ways, Streets and Passages in the City of Dublin) was established by an Act of Parliament to purchase, demolish and rebuild the city centre, and the narrow lanes of Viking and medieval Dublin which survived. We follow these twisting pathways back to the origins of the city and back over a thousand years.

The original Dubh Linn, the Black Pool, of Viking Dublin can still be found in the heart of the city. It’s surrounded by the castle walls and is now a park, with elaborate paths twisting across it representing the eels which once inhabited the pool. It’s right beside the wonderful Chester Beatty library, and overlooked by the medieval tower and the Chapel Royal, along with an array of building from every era which crowd into the interior of the castle. In many ways, it doesn’t look like a castle, but rather more like a hodge-podge of buildings gathered together over time.

The Chester Beatty library is one of the most interesting museums in the city, once a private collection of books, manuscripts and oddities from all over the world, gifted to the State. It’s free to visit, has an amazing roof garden, and a splendid restaurant and gift shop. Beneath the main atrium of the Chester Beatty a reflecting pool leads, in my books, to the world of the Sídhe. But today the library staff frown on people trying to enter that way.

Leaving Dublin castle by the gate on Palace street, under the façade of the Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers society building and little Dame lane to your right, you turn right onto Dame Street (specially widened by the Commission) and walk towards the main gate of Trinity. Where Dame Street becomes College Green you’ll find an architectural oddity known as the Tiny Building. A building on College Green/Dame Street sandwiched between two others. Just a door, a strip of red brick and a white plaque depicting a ship. The Commercial buildings next door were rebuilt when the new Central Bank was constructed in 1980 and turned on a right angle which may account for the Tiny Building, but the truth has been very hard to track down. Dublin mysteries like it that way.

The plaque commemorates the Ouzel Galley, which sailed from Dublin in 1695 only to vanish, presumed lost at sea. The crew were declared dead and the insurance paid. In 1700 the ship and crew returned, with tales of being enslaved by pirates and weighed down with booty, causing many to believe they hadn’t been enslaved at all but had turned to piracy themselves. Chaos ensued as insurers and investors clamoured for possession of the cargo, but in the end the same panel of merchants who had declared it lost, decreed that once creditors and insurers were paid the money remaining should be used for the good of the city poor. The Ouzel Galley Society became an arbitration society to deal with similar disputes.

This odd little door leads, in my books, to a Sídhe safe space known as a Liberty. The Liberties is another area of Dublin, located elsewhere in the city, but once there were a number of areas known as Liberties which were manorial jurisdictions under Archbishops, Abbeys and Earls, where special laws applied. The first Charter of Liberties was written by Prince John of Robin Hood fame, then Lord of Ireland in 1192.

One of the things which attracted me to writing urban fantasy set in Dublin is the city itself, the way things seem to shift and move of their own volition. The city is like a living, breathing thing, hiding parts of itself, revealing other, older places when you least expect it. With more than a thousand years of history to draw on, with myths and legends forming part of its fabric, urban legends are rife and seem to fit here. The Irish are good at stories. We live and breathe them. You can’t just tell someone “I went from a to b”. There has to be a tale involved. We need the sights and sounds, the smells, the things that make a story spring to life. (Dublin excels at sights, sounds and smells!) It is such tales that Dubh Linn, and Dublin itself, are built upon.

Dublin demands to be a character in its own right in any tale that leads the reader along its grimy cobbles or wide avenues. From Dublin Castle and the gardens that can now be found on the site of the original black pool that gives Dubh Linn its name, along the narrow winding roads of Viking and medieval Dublin, across the wide avenues of Georgian Dublin and into our modern plazas with their gleaming towers of glass, there’s so much to explore. Just don’t take the wrong turn.

Ruth will be back with more of Dublin’s art, architecture and secrets.

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