Blogetary (Weblog + Commentary = Blogetary)

I KNOW I’m Not the only woman to be disturbed by this:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/19/AR2007071902668.html?nav=emailpage

After Robin Givhan wrote this article Ann Lewis used it curry political donations which is almost worse:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/artsandliving/daily/graphics/hillary_for_president_072807.pdf

By far my favorite writer on it has been Ellen Goodman. She’s right. It is insulting:

http://www.bellinghamherald.com/302/v-print/story/139626.html

This is why I still get pissed off about this stuff. It’s still happening.

Crap!  Xena Boobs for Office!  Obama’s Butt or Bust!

Cross posted on tribe….

Yep. Another one. And I feel really foolish about it. Editors always say in their guidelines, “Send us your best.”  At the time, you really do think it’s your best. I had proofed this story and revised it and sent it out all proud of it and everything. After I received my rejection slip, I found like a blatant error in the second paragraph where I’d obviously taken something out of a sentence but didn’t replace it with anything. And that was just the first mistake.  AIYEEE!  I must have either been half asleep or really distracted when I thought I was done proofing and editing this baby. That was a waste of postage.  Oh well. Try, try again.

On the other hand, even though I didn’t get much writing done this weekend on a major short story I’m working on, I did get some research and figure out what the story line really is. That helps. But I also realized it will be some major work to take the bits and pieces I’ve written out and string them together.

Well – If I get my act together, hopefully in the next couple of days, I can write up a review of Shimmer.  Quite a pleasant little zine.

Currently reading Lilith by George MacDonald and that is proving to be quite an adventure.  You never know where his words might take you.

And now, I’m going to see if I can proof this last failed attempt adequately enough to try sending it out again.

Jules Verne, Philip K. Dick, Robert Heinlein.  These writers and many others had the vision to be able to see into the future what would come and the audacity to write about it.  People ate up their work and still do.

There was a time when speculative fiction — both the writing and the reading of it — was considered a dirty little secret.  There have been authors in the past who have books in the scifi/fantasy section of the bookstore who refuse to admit that they write speculative fiction. It is not “real” literature.  “Just stories.” “Pulp.”

Now these “just stories” have been made into blockbuster movies. Fantastical machines that were considered wholly imaginary really do exist in real time now. Peer reviewed and newsworthy periodicals are discussing the nature of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Harry Potter.  Open Court Publishing has a whole series of books on Philosophy and Narnia or Philosophy and Harry Potter or Philosophy and who knows what else.  Academic speculative fiction libraries exist all over the country. You could take a tour if you wanted to.
And now Robert Heinlein is being remembered in The Wall Street Journal.

I’m kind of pissed because this was my world and it seems to be “coming out” now. I wonder though, if I should give it a party instead? I wonder what’s next? Or will the bullies come out after we give it the coming out party it deserves and beat it back into submission?

I hope not.

I wanted to blog about a couple of things but instead of blogging one topic and then setting up another, I thought I would do both together.

First – story/character playlists.  We all have heard by now of writers who will list what music they were listening to while writing a book or setting up a character.  It’s like the book’s soundtrack. So my question is, what comes first? The music or the story?  The character or the music?

Do you hear particular music and find yourself writing or are you writing and realize you need to go find some music to fit what you’re writing – to get in the mood? And do you have writing music (as opposed to cleaning the house music or taking a bath music, for example)? Is it different for different stories or characters? Do you make actual playlists or are they just tunes in your head that you hear while writing a specific passage or bit of dialogue? What kind of role does music play in your writing?

Second – the Rant. One day I hope to go to a convention and meet Lilith Saintcrow because the more I read her blog, the more I like her. I already enjoy her Dante Valentine series, but on her blog she discusses some real stuff like boundaries, not getting stuck on writing just one thing, but moving on to other things as well,  writer reaction after finishing something and most recently, women, humor and feminism.  I just want to say, “Yeah – What she said!”

What happened to feminism? When did it become a dirty word.  It seemed to coast through the backlash of the 80s and 90s and then it just fizzled.  The Third Wave Feminism that was supposed to build on what had been gained with First and Second Wave feminism just disappeared.

And now we are moving backward again. This guy says women can’t be funny.  I’ve read about books and articles that discuss that bloating, fatigue, and cramps are all in our heads (where have I heard that before?). I’ve heard and read about studies say that we would be better off if we were wives and mothers and that children are better in homes where both parents live, even if they argue all the time and are abusive.  Who funded those studies? Why isn’t anyone fighting back?

I’m not looking for a war with the other gender.  I just don’t want to slip back down the slope into second class citizen status.  Is that too much to ask?  According to Hitchens, I probably shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about it.

Actually, this edition is called Lady Churchill’s Robot Wristlet (because “a rose is a rose by any other tablature”) otherwise known as Issue 20 or “10.5 years of doing it all wrong.”

Don’t let the whimsy, or the simple formatting, fool you – this little zine is a heavy hitter. Similar to Flytrap and Electric Velocipede, this zine is 8 1/2 X 14 folded in half with a couple of staples in the middle to keep things together and a cardstock cover (kind of a sage green color in the case of this issue’s LCRW) to make it nice. What artwork there is is limited to the very few advertisements and the front cover. The front cover, resembling a woodcut of an early 20th century robot, was done by Nathaniel Meyer. Think of it as a gothic robot. It’s really rather nice.

Inside is 58 pages of some pretty interesting stuff (it would be 60 but the first page is the Table of Contents and the last page is dedicated to author bios – which are also interesting but not the reason one reads the zine). First off, there is the fiction; eleven pieces of a storytelling nature. Then there is the nonfiction and the poetry (four and two respectively). Funnily enough, there’s not much difference, really, between that which is under nonfiction and that which is under poetry. “Dear Aunt Gwenda” by Gwenda Bond is more of a prose nonfiction piece that has been put under poetry, while David Blair’s “Five Poems” has been put in with the nonfiction. But such is the whimsy of the editors of this magazine that that’s just the way it is. Give it a gallic shrug, enjoy it and move on. We do too much labeling and categorizing of literature anyway instead of just enjoying it.

I enjoyed most of what I read in this zine. I shall try to consider the nonfiction and poetry first before going on to the fiction, but since this is a zine that can be quirky in its approach to categorization, well….we’ll see.
Of the two offerings by Neile Graham, “The Tattoos I Don’t Have” and “Westness Walk,” I much preferred “Westness Walk.” “Tattoos” was interesting and was feeling around for history, which is what “Westness” was doing as well, but in my opinion, “Westness Walk” did it better. I could hear the echo of centuries and the loneliness of the sea in “Westness Walk,” where “Tattoos I Don’t Have” just made me think of people I know who are into body art and that doesn’t draw me in as much.

“The Secretary,” a nonfiction piece by Rose Black, could almost be a companion to the fiction piece “The Oologist’s Cabinet” by Michael Hartford. In both cases the antique in question isn’t really appreciated the way it should be by the narrators. The POV is that these pieces of inherited furniture are ugly, stinky, and full of old and odd bits of correspondences and pieces of paper.

“The Secretary” tells, in a round about way, the way the insides of things don’t always match the outsides of things. The inner life of the narrator’s mother did not necessarily match the outer life. Despite the efforts of the narrator, however, to make all things equal and get rid of this reminder in her life of such discrepancies, the cabinet haunts her to the very end with a packet of letters found in yet one more secret drawer AFTER it has been given away. It was this final part that won this bit of nonfiction over for me.

“The Oologist’s Cabinet” by Michael Hartford was similar. The narrator didn’t want to like the cabinet. It didn’t fit in with his and his wife’s lifestyle. They wanted to be modern and it was anachronistic to their way of thinking. However, the narrator finds himself being seduced by an aspect of the cabinet, I suppose you could call her. This story had me charmed until the end. Then the writer made a choice at the end that I would not have made and he lost me. He went just the opposite of the way that I would go – but maybe he was trying to make a different point than the one I would have made.

It was interesting that the editors chose to lump all of David Blair’s “Five Poems” together. I believe it was done because all of the poems appear to be about appetite, sometimes gastronomic and sometimes sexual. The “Five Poems” included “Variation on a Holy Sonnet” (but it wasn’t anything like a sonnet really, but has great visuals regarding the appetite of the modern world), “Baskerville Hound,” “Poem About Alma Mahler,” “On the Porch,” and “Great Taste.” These were all interesting to read, and they did make me think sometimes, but they didn’t charm me.

“Dear Aunt Gwenda” by Gwenda Bond and “Eleven Wonderful/Horrible Things Found While Bookscouting” by William Smith did, however, charm me. “Dear Aunt Gwenda” pits odd questions against quirky and ever more frustrated answers. It was a hoot to read. In the meantime, “Eleven Things” shows the wonderment of the archeological dig of the bookdealer. It was quite charmant as well.

“Prolegomenon to the Adventures of Childe Phoenix” by Marly Youmans I wasn’t sure about. I wasn’t sure where it was going. It had a slight goth feel to it and seemed to borrow from fairytales and myths here and there, but in the end it seemed to be about a lonely child raised in the heart of a family torn apart by grief. It was interesting and had a resolution that made me go “huh.”

“Invisible Hand” by Anil Menon and “Krishnaware” by Amelia Beamer both borrow from the Hindu Mythology System. In that sense they could be companion pieces, except for the fact that they are completely different from one another.

As humans we tend repeat mistakes, whether in just our own lifetime or over the course of several generations or lifetimes. The old adage is that history repeats itself. Much as we would like to think that studying it keeps that from happening, that’s not always the case. This seems to be the message of “Krishnaware” as Radha/Christina tries to hold onto Krishna when all other times he has been able to get away.

“Invisible Hand” cleverly brings together the CEO, CFO, and COO (my titles so they may not really fit) of the Hindu Gods (Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu) for a board meeting. It seems that Shiva is bored (board/bored – get it?). This is an amusing tale about coming to terms with our own strengths and weaknesses. In the end, the wives have to bail the husbands out of the mess that they make of things. I really enjoyed this piece by Menon.

My favorite piece was “Consider the Snorklepine” by Edward McEneely. I do believe I would enjoy getting to know a Snorklepine myself. They know stuff and they believe in lots of the good things that people are so willing to let go of these days like loyalty and honor and courage. In fact, in my perfect world, McEneely’s Snorklepine would probably become great friends with Spivey’s Wizard (see Aoife’s Kiss, June 2007). That’s how much I enjoyed this little guy.

In “Under the Skin” by Steven Bratman the protagonist explores body art of a different nature as a means of relieving stress due to the illness of his daughter. This tale, set in the Pacific Northwest, explores many different issues such as cutting, abortion, belief systems, terminal illnesses, choice, and tolerance. It’s a pretty heavy piece, IMHO.

“The Third Kind of Darkness” by M. Brock Moorer and “Workshop” by Laura Evans both explore different aspects of child abuse and neglect. Moorer uses his tale, “Darkness,” to explore what happens when a child is torn apart by two different adult authority figures. Ultimately s/he must find a third way if they are to survive. On the other hand, Evans shows in “Workshop” how the abused child inside the adult never quite leaves and is never truly healed. Well done, but they weren’t my Snorklepine or Wizard.

Meghan McCarron, in “I’ll Give In,” uses Greek mythology – specifically the labyrinth and the minotaur – to explore the self-destructive tendencies of a woman in a relatively stable relationship. Interesting, quirky, and ultimately sad. The protagonist couldn’t refrain from the impulses, but couldn’t choose to jump into the abyss either, instead choosing a sad mediocrity.

Jon Hansen’s “In the Lobby of the Mission Palms” is a piece of flash fiction that almost should have been included as a prose poem. Miniature owls provide the narrator – and the reader – with a focal point for their flights of fancy. It’s nice.

Finally, there is “The Last Worders” by Karen Joy Fowler. I really enjoyed this story, until the end. It’s quirky, charming, funny, amusing – until the end where it thuds with heaviness of a death knell. It’s done that way on purpose. I know that. But it doesn’t feel fair to the reader to create a light hearted story that ends in death. I don’t like that Fowler did it, but it is well done.

On the whole, I’m really glad I subscribed to LCRW. It was fun to get to know this big little zine.

If you would like to just sort of hang out with LCRW, get to know it first without really subscribing to it or buying anything, then check out their blog here.

Now go finish reading the last Harry Potter book so we can all have real discussions about it – out loud. Okay?

This is a less a review than a reaction.

Yesterday, I had my entire weekend kinda planned out. Dishes, laundry, work on some writing, maybe see some friends for dinner on Saturday evening. Then the postman knocked on the door and handed me my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and everything changed. I turned off the cartoons. Put on a fresh pot of coffee. Dug out the previous book and read the last couple of chapters as a refresher course (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince). And then sat down to read.

That was 24 hours ago.

Since then I’ve been reading. As I opened the cover on the final book about The Boy Who Lived, I wondered how many other people around the world were doing that exact same thing? How many had stood in line at midnight or waited with baited breath for USPS or UPS to bring their books. And how many were, like me, at that moment, sitting down to read this final book.

About a third of the way through I stopped for dinner and a movie and on the way home it was amazing how quiet and deserted the streets were for a Saturday night. It felt like Christmas, or the Superbowl, or the Oscars. People were choosing to READ at home on a Saturday night (or so I imagined – and to me that’s cooler than anything else).

Despite my promise to friends to just go to bed when I got home, I went back to reading, drawn back to the book on my bed. A few hours later and maybe halfway through the book (after 2AM when I heard yelling, shots fired and sirens after the bar up the street closed), I closed it and fell asleep with it. Only to begin the emotional rollercoaster ride again in the morning.

About 24 hours after I received the book, I finished it, all cried out.

There will be no spoilers here, no analytic discussion on the story and whether or not it worked, just that I enjoyed the ride and I’m sorry to see it end.

In 1962 John Steinbeck said in his 1962 Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech that: “The writer is delegated to declare and to celebrate man’s proven capacity for greatness of heart and spirit–for gallantry in defeat, for courage, compassion and love.”

I believe this is one of the primary motivations in the Harry Potter novels and it is exactly what J.K. Rowling has done.

Well done, Ms. Rowling.

So, on Bastille Day, I went to a friends for a shindig and invited my cousin along. It ended up being a little bit bigger shindig than I was prepped for as it was ALSO someone’s bday. ANYWAY – my friend Jim – one of the hosts – blogged about it here if you’d like to take a look see and have some fun.

We did kinda storm the backyard.

And yes, since I have a French surname, I do, in point of fact, think it’s relevant.

So there.

So, I’m beginning my first perusal of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet (this is NOT a review by the way) and I’ve come to a realization for myself.  I don’t write fiction or poetry to get paid, though eventually, it would be nice.  But I do tend to focus my attention on zines that will pay me at least a modicum for all my time and hardwork should I be accepted.  I do like the old “pro” standbys of Realms of Fantasy, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Analog, and Asimov’s and not just cuz they pay if they accept.  They also have a definite schtick they stick to.  I know what I’m going to get from them. They’ve been around a while and it appears they’re going to around for a while.  I like that, too. BUT…..

I also really am developing a higher respect for zines like LCRW, Electric Velocipede, Flytrap, Aoife’s Kiss etc, because they aren’t so stuck in the same schtick. I may not like everything I read in every issue, but they seem to be zines that are willing to make experimental choices – risky choices.  Isn’t that was speculative fiction is about to begin with? The risky, experimental pushing the edges kind of thinking?

Now, at this point I’d be glad of any zine of good standing to accept my work, but for some reason I’m beginning to think I’d feel less like a whore (more respected, if you will) if my work were accepted by the smaller, more experimental zines than if they were accepted by the larger ones.

But, like I said, at this point, I would like it if ANYONE tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to dance.

Recently, one of my friends, who is also a writer, went back home to spend time with family and the other writers I know in town are busy with school or work or vacations.  I had forgotten what motivating and inspiring influences they were until they were no longer around. Yet, my cousin, who is also a writer, came into town and voila – different energy but still a good inspiring and motivating influence. 

This experience reinforced for me how important it is to have other writers around you.  Writing is solitary, but it doesn’t happen in a vacuum.  I have writerly friends online as well as those close by and reading and hearing about their ups and downs and their struggles to write or get published or get their names out there helps inspire me to keep on in my own struggles. This was a good reminder of one of the influences that keeps me working when I feel like giving up.

What motivates and inspires you?