Tag Archives: fantasy

The One About Saying No

As a chick and a parent, I’ve said no somewhere in the billions of times. I’m talking about this:

Bugger bugs.

“Stop.”

Bugger continues, upping their game and laughing.

“No, stop. I’m serious.”

Bugger kicks it into high and taunts.

I raise my voice, lay hands, force a stop.

Bugger gets feelings hurt and accuses me of overreacting.

Brothers, boyfriends, friends, coworkers, even my dad. It’s been omnipresent in my life.

Never really thought much about it other than to be annoyed. Today, being home sick and bored to tears, I watched a couple of movies. Guess what they both had in common.

Scenario One: The woman tells the man to stop because she doesn’t want to get into the water. He chases her, corners her, forces her over his shoulder before throwing her into the pool. The whole time she’s screaming for him to stop. She’s MAD when she gets out of the water and the man stalks off because he thinks it’s NOT FAIR that she’s angry. She runs after him and apologizes.

Scenario Two: The woman has had a traumatic past that has not been disclosed to the man. He puts on a mask and stalks her around the dark house. The whole time she’s backing up, trying to get away, and screaming for him to stop. When she slams the bathroom door on his hand in an effort to lock herself in, he’s pissed. She apologizes to him and explains her traumatic past as a way to make him understand her reaction.

No means no. All the time. Every time.

No, don’t want to go out with you.

No, I don’t want to be tickled.

No, you can’t have a hug.

No, I don’t like to be scared.

No, I don’t want to have kids.

No, I don’t want to get my extensions wet.

And no I won’t apologize to you for the response your actions wrought.tumblr_naqc5foddz1rxmno2o1_500

TL;DR: Stop making this normal. Reject it and don’t fucking apologize for asserting yourself. Thinking men are too fragile to be told no is a Rook mistake. Let them deal with it.

 

 

 

 

The One about Wheelhouses

As a kid I read some pretty fantastic fantasy: Tolkien (of course), Madeleine L’Engle, Terry Brooks, McCaffery, Tad Williams, Zelazny, and the Deryni novels by Katherine Kurtz. Loved them all. In all honesty, I haven’t read much in the way of traditional fantasy in a good 15 years or more. Urban fantasy crowded it out.

That said, I’ve started a story for the Queens and Courtesans anthology. That is so outside my wheelhouse it gives me phantom pains in my femininity. I’ve never read much romance. And all the queens (not princesses) I’ve read about in fiction are more like delicate flowers in a hothouse than main characters.

SO… I opened the door to my wheelhouse and stepped outside. That knocking sound is just my knees. It’s cool. I think an alternate WW2 teleporting princess and entourage story is necessary in the world. It’s close enough to the shore that I haven’t lost sight of my wheelhouse and lets me explore another facet of storytelling. Unknown

The One About Tex Thompson

A few days ago, I wrote about Chuck Wendig. I do feel rather stalkerish about him, because he’s such an unknown to me down here in the land of red dirt, pine trees, and big hair (closer to God and all). Now, I have to tell you about Tex Thompson’s books.

As a kid JohnWayne was a holy word to be whispered in awe and only in the correct setting, followed closely by Glen Ford and The Dallas Cowboys (Though to be fair, Cowboys was usually shouted along with bless Tom Landry and then Jimmy Jones. However, I’ve never heard much praying for Jerry Jones at my momma’s house.)

To love the twisted-alt-weird-fantastical-post-apocalyptic western that is One Night in Sixes, you don’t need any of that. You don’t have to love westerns. You don’t have to be from Texas. You don’t have to believe me about anything else. You don’t even need the love of story to get into this book. It will give it to you. I will not send you down the wrong rabbit hole.

This book is deep. Social injustice, slavery, love, and loyalty are layered in with a master’s hand.

If you’d follow Mookie into Hell. If you’d take the train with Harry. Then you need to follow Elim out into the night. You’ll be a believer.

TL;dr: OMG Read One Night in Sixes (and the sequel Medicine for the Dead) because it’s pure story joy.

Don’t skip reading this book because you think you don’t like westerns. That’d be a rook mistake.

 

The One About Not Writing

I can name 30,000 things off the top of my head that I will find a way to do instead of writing. Making a list of 30,000 things would be number one.

I don’t know why I fight it.  It doesn’t make sense, because once I remove the distractions and dig in past thought’s epidermal layer, I love it.  Of course, if I kept to only doing things that made sense, my son wouldn’t be here.  Or the bajillion scars I have circling my knees and elbows like dish soap down the drain. Or like that analogy. It just don’t make sense.

I’m going to give NaNoWriMo a try, and pit myself against myself. Seeing as how much I love competition and love beating myself up, this should go splendidly.  Self-loathing if I lose, or a viable work if I win.  Place your bets, folks.

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Yeah, I might know a little about that.

TL;DR Check out the meme.

If I could just shut my brain like I do my mouth, I could accomplish something.  Don’t wish in one hand and shit in the other and expect to have anything.  It’s damn rook mistake.

The One About Sirens 2015

Life, man.  It just keeps keeping on whether you like it or not.  Whether you’re paying attention or not.  Whether you’re blogging or not.  Lately there’s a lot of the not.

Haven’t had much to write about, so consider yourself spared details of day to day yakity-yak, bowed up to sound pretty.

However, I’m currently doing a little something for myself.  I headed up to Colorado for Sirens 2015,  as recommended by Rosemary Clement Moore (who is a dedicated blogger, unlike myself).

This place’s the home I never knew I wanted, and the friends I never had.  We are determined readers and writers, looking for the female like us,  the female that moves us.  The female who won’t be moved. The theme is Rebels and Revolutionaries. It’s incredible and life altering. Without being too irreverent, I hope, I can say I’ve found my hadj.

TL;DR: Find your people.  Trying to make it on this rock without your tribe is stupid.  It’s a Rook mistake.

The One About Promoting Yourself

Nothing turns me off from buying someone’s word baby more than authors hawking them incessantly on everyone’s feed. I don’t want to feel like I’m being hit up by a used car salesman every time I log on to Facebook. (Which  I should probably do more often) I’d rather have cited rap battles over the use of the Oxford comma ,than have someone tell me how good they are at anything – including writing.

What do I know about self promotion? Only what I don’t like.

I suck at it. Currently, I have nothing to promote, other than my fantastic sarcasm skills (which are always for hire), but I do try to make sure I give shout outs to people when they have something released. These are in my recently read/bought pile:

Angeline Hawkes has Out of the Garden 

Rie Sheridan Rose has The Marvelous Mechanical Man

A. Lee Martinez has Divine Misfortune

Brian Harmon has Rushed

Shawn Scarber has Strange Afterlives

Tex Thompson has Medicine for the Dead the sequel to One Night in Sixes

TL;DR – Support the writers you like by promoting them on your feed.  Don’t be a swaggering jackass about your author-type abilities.  It’s a rook mistake.

The One About Food in Sci-Fi

Now this may be a series as I do some research. But staring at a big egg breakfast with chicken fried steak bigger than my plate (and my stomach) has got me to thinking about the foodie aspect of science fiction.  I know lots of fans are foodies and some are not.  But other than an occasional glimpse at what’s for dinner during a big political hoohaw or on Ten Forward, I can’t really think of food playing much of a role in my reading/watching.  Like, I said, I’m probably wrong and I have done 0 research on the subject.  Don’t crucify me.  I’m just typing up thoughts in my favorite DFW diner and mopping up the grease that’s pooling on my home fries.  That said, point me in a direction if you’ve got a favorite food sc-fi or even fantasy story.  I’m interested.

Help me, Lord Insulin.  You’re my only hope.

(The above is a joke.  I take my diabetes as seriously as Wilford Brimely takes his mustache.)