Category Archives: Undead Sexist Cliches: The Book

There will be blood! And it was mine!

No, I didn’t have an accident, I finally donated blood on Thursday.

While I’d arranged my schedule to account for the wiped-out feeling a double donation of red blood cells gives me, this trip still threw me off my game. There was a rash on my left arm when they were ready to stick the needle in — probably a reaction to something on the blood-pressure cuff — and as a result they decided to use my right arm. The veins weren’t as good, so they slowed down the system and I got out 30 to 40 minutes later than I normally would have. Then I had to walk across the parking lot and almost to the street to call a Lyft because the Red Cross is in a cell-phone dead zone.

But it’s done! And with a double dose, I won’t be ready to give again until May, so being wiped out the rest of the day (the only thing I got done was a post on Death-Ray Mirror of Dr. Mabuse on Atomic Junkshop) is worth it to cut back the number of appointments. And overall this was a productive week. That’s good, as I’ll be starting back on Leaf articles next week, so there’ll be less time for other stuff.

I rewrote Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates which I’ll submit to the writing group in a week or two. Now that the McGuffin is a box of Stuckey’s praline candies, I’ll leave it up to the group whether the title still works or if I need an alternative (It Flutters on the Soul would be my backup).

I finished Chapter Six of Sexist Myths and went on to incorporate a number of bookmarked web pages into the book. I’ll jump back and start on Chapter Four next week (it’s much rougher so I figured I’d be more able to tackle it if I got a couple of other chapters under my best).

I went over the rewrite of Fiddler’s Black I did last week and it looks good. Next week I’ll start looking for markets.

I completed two more chapters of Impossible Takes a Little Longer. Despite all the changes from the last draft, it’s flowing very well. A big part of that is the first person voice works so much better than third-person did, conveying much more of the intensity. I’m on track to get to Chapter Eighteen by the end of the month, which was my plan. However it’s shaping up to be very short for a novel length work. Then again, so did Southern Discomfort and it’s now a comfortable 90,000. Fingers crossed.

I finished a first draft of Death’s Jester though that’s definitely not the final title. It involves a couple of teenage schoolgirls in 1960s London getting entangled in a supernatural struggle. However the ending is really rushed, because I was bone-weary this morning and I couldn’t think very well, so I just wrapped it up all of a sudden. There are some bits in the ending I like, but I may revisit it next week and mess around with other options.

And I gave blood which is something I take pride in doing as much as possible. So yay.

#SFWApro. All rights to image remain with current holder.

 

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Overpowered by pets! My week in review

I knew that with TYG out of town Wednesday through Friday, this week would be a little demanding. But like Don Blake beholding Dr. Doom’s scarred face, I never dreamt it would be like this!

First, the background: TYG has an alumni event around this time every year. Normally it overlaps with Illogicon, the local SF con, so we board the dogs for the weekend. This year, however, hotel issues led to the con skipping until 2021. Even though TYG was out of town last month, she left Friday; this year she left Wednesday. It’s been at least a couple of years since I had to cope with handling the dogs solo on a workweek morning.

(And this is not a complaint about my spouse: I’m glad she’s having fun, and it’s not like I don’t travel solo sometimes).

Knowing they’d want long morning walks, I figured I’d get up, have breakfast, and work until it was light enough to take them out. But Trixie and Plush Dog follow me downstairs when they don’t have TYG upstairs to snuggle with. That’s distracting, plus my brain kept insisting this was my warmup period before work, not a time for actual writing, and I couldn’t seem to get past that.

Plus Wisp, as I noted this morning, has been really keen on coming in for petting, and that took up some extra time. And so did the walkies. This morning I got back from the walk at 9:15, which is almost two hours after I’d normally start writing. And I just went screw it, and gave up.

Despite which I did get some stuff done. I’m getting close to the end of Sexist Myths Chapter Six, which is all I expected to finish this month (I may have been wrong). I got through another chapter of Impossible Takes a Little Longer, Contrary to my worries last week, I think I’ve figured how to progress through some key scenes in KC’s personal arc. Didn’t get around to working on it further, though.

I redrafted Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates part-way. It’s improving steadily; I hope my next batch of beta-readers agrees with me the title works even though there’s no longer a box of chocolates — I think it’s funnier if death comes from a box of Stuckey’s praline candies.

And I submitted three stories Monday to various markets, as well as reworking and finishing Rabbits Indignateonem (thanks to feedback from my friend Cindy Holbrook). I also revised Fiddler’s Black based on feedback from the last market I submitted it to, tdotspec. They thought one of my two leads was undeveloped, and that the opening needed tightening; after looking it over, I agree on both counts. I’ll go over it again before I resubmit it somewhere.

So pretty good, even if I didn’t stick the landing. And after all my dogs are worth losing time over. So is my wife.#SFWApro. Dog photo by me, cover by John Buscema, all rights remain with current holder.

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Trixie sees her shadow (and other events)

So Wednesday morning, TYG and I took the dogs for a walk. On the way home we were upon a slope with the sun to our right—And man, when she saw our shadows, she wanted to run down and meet us. It was adorable. And the walk also let me photograph the first heron and first sunrise of 2020:New Year’s Day was otherwise quite relaxed. New Year’s Eve was very relaxed as we don’t go out: TYG has no urge to stay out somewhere until midnight, and I worry about drunks on the road. I was also exhausted so we went to bed without even trying to stay up to midnight. It paid off though: I had a solid nine hours of sleep, which was amazingly refreshing.

Now, as to the rest of the week:

I redrafted Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates and it’s getting close to the point I can show it to someone — either the writer’s group again, or one of my out-of-group beta readers. And I’m keeping the title, even though it doesn’t quite fit as it’s now a box of Stuckey’s praline candies that kicks off the plot

I worked on a first draft I’d largely forgotten about, involving a couple of teenage girls in 1969 getting caught up in a battle with a mysterious sorcerer. I have a lot of unfinished drafts on my laptop, so one of my goals for this year is to get twelve of them finished. This one’s not there yet, but it’s 2,500 words closer.

I worked two chapters on Impossible Takes a Little Longer. I might have gone further, but I ran into an obstacle: I’m now at a couple of chapters where KC’s personal arc takes precedence over the action, and the arc’s changed completely. I like having a pause in the action but a lot of the discussion and conflict no longer works. Hopefully when I look at it again next week, I’ll see the path.

And I finished Chapter Five of Sexist Myths. Reordering the chapter’s argument and entering all the time was a slog … and that’s chapter was in good shape. Chapter Six is a lot less ready, so that may be all i get done on the book the rest of this month.

And I made samosas. They tasted great, but didn’t look at all like the ones you get in restaurants. I’ve had that problem before — next time I make them, I’ll make sure I have enough free time to really work on them.

A good start to 2020. Hope it keeps up.

#SFWApro. Photos are mine.

 

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What’s the way forward: my 2020 goals, both specific and vague

One of the basic rules of goal-setting is that they should be measurable and clear. By which standard amorphous goals and resolutions for 2020 are a bad move. If I had, say, a goal to “live my best life” … well, how would I define it? And if I did, wouldn’t it make more sense to write the definition (e.g., travel to Paris, try new sexual positions, that sort of thing).

Nevertheless, I have stuck some goals in that aren’t clear and measurable: doing stuff that’s “out of the ordinary” for instance. Right now, all I can think of is cooking stuff that’s outside my usual range, like the fried bread I made last weekend. Hopefully I’ll think of more spectacular stuff — but the point is, a goal that pushes me to do something, even if I’m not sure what it’s pushing me toward, feels like a good thing. And it’s not as if there’s any penalty if I don’t get it right.

I’ve also put down that I want to be more activist this year, because lord knows, this is the time for all good people to come to the aid of their country. I’m not quite sure what the best use of my talents is. Writing is obviously one of my talents, but since And resurrected itself as a conservative outlet I haven’t had anywhere besides my blog and FB to write. I’ll keep pitching more prominent markets but I honestly don’t think that’s the most effective way to have an impact.

Money is another, but there’s a practical limit to how much of that I can donate. So what more can I do? I’ll try to figure this out before it’s too late, and do what I can in the meantime (like giving blood).

Turning to writing, things are a lot clearer. I want to finish the next draft of Impossible Takes a Little Longer, do a quick revision, have it beta-read, then start on the next draft. I’d put “finish it” but I think that’s overly optimistic.

I want to finish six short stories and complete 12 first or second drafts. I have a habit of starting stories then just forgetting about them; I think if I devote a little time to writing new stuff, it’ll be beneficial. I’ll submit shorts 36 times, at least.

I’m going to finish Sexist Myths, probably for self-publication, and self-publish Questionable Minds.

There’s also a lot of stuff about specific fun things I want to do, ranging from going to the North Carolina Zoo to visiting Florida again. I want to do as much stuff with TYG as possible, without actually pushing her to do stuff (her schedule is intense, she doesn’t need pressure from my end). The personal stuff has quite a number of things in it — it may be the largest part of the list.

And more meditation and other stuff to center me and keep me in the here and now.

While I’ve used a Plot Your Work planner the past couple of years, I have a bad habit of writing stuff down, then never checking it. So this year I simply erased everything I wrote in it last year, and I’m reusing it. If I succeed in checking it regularly, I’ll order a new one for 2021. Otherwise, I’ll just go back to relying on my laptop and BusyCal.

My list doesn’t look wildly ambitious, but if I accomplish most of it, I’ll be pretty damn impressed.

#SFWApro. Cover by Wendy Pini, all rights remain with curren tholder.

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Productivity and plague: my last writing week of 2019

The plague was the same problem I’ve been dealing with for four years now: the combination of dry heated air from the heating system with my asthma plus bad breath control makes me vulnerable to any virus that comes along. It gets into my throat and leaves me hacking, wheezing and eventually without a voice.

Fortunately I’ve learned to strike first when I feel the symptoms, and so Tuesday, went I felt a familiar hacking and wheezing, I went in to the urgent care near our house. Good move: they confirmed I had a virus (probably the one TYG acquired on a recent trip) and gave me some nasal drops. They seem to be working, though I’m also careful about not talking (the breath control problem — I can really strain my throat). I rested most of the day, which was smart, but cost me more work time. Plus I don’t work on Christmas. Still, I got quite a bit done.

I completed the third chapter of Sexist Myths but discovered Chapter Four is one of my weakest. Nothing that can’t be fixed, but it requires more thought than I can manage with the dogs squished up against me non-stop (I didn’t get my break last week due to Trixie’s tummy troubles so I’m feeling the loss of personal space more than usual). I started Chapter Five and did much better; I’ll come back to Four when the pups are in doggy day care again next week.

I put some more work in on Oh, the Places You’ll Go and reviewed a slightly revised version of the original version. I’ve got to say, despite one member of my writing group saying it was fine as it stood, I think it does need a lot more, so the big reboot is probably necessary.

And I completed the nine chapters of Impossible Takes a Little Longer I set myself as one of my goals for the month. Chapter Nine introduces the villain, and I was very unsure because he’s so radically rebooted from the previous version. However early this morning I saw a way to make him work and forged ahead. Hopefully my new approach will prove itself as I progress.

Just a few more days this year and then enter 2020. But for now, enjoy the weekend!

#SFWapro. Photograph is mine.

 

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There is disorder under heaven but the situation is pretty good

For starters, the digital magazine Kzine, which published my Kernel of Truth in 2015, now makes hard copy issues available via Amazon.

I got mine. As I love having copies in hard copy, this made me very happy. Though my smile looks weird here, it’s sincere.

The big disruption this week was Trixie. Sick stomach again on Sunday, vet appointment Wednesday. They suggested another new food, but Thursday she wouldn’t eat it, so we kept her home from daycare. At the end of the day, she scarfed down a kong full of soft food, so she’s back to normal.

But what is normal? Is her lack of interest in breakfast a sign of a constant low level of whatever this problem is? Or is it that she just doesn’t like kibble (we thought about a tooth problem but she has no hesitation with hard foods that she likes)? Given we’re supposed to feed her mostly the new kibble plus a little of the soft food, will we have to go the other way around to get her to eat? Stay tuned.

I’d planned to use my dog-free Thursday to donate blood and catch a movie. But even if Trixie had been hale and hearty, it wouldn’t have worked. TYG has a bad bug, I have a mild version, but I didn’t think I should give blood. And we had a contractor stop by in the afternoon so I couldn’t have made the movie anyway. Frustrating. And today hasn’t been massively more productive, mostly research reading. And an Atomic Junkshop post on Christmas time-loop movies.

Despite all of which, the week was productive. I did a redraft of Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates and I think I see how to fix the ending on the next draft. I wrote a couple of chapters of Impossible Takes a Little Longer and redrafted my Oh the Places You’ll Go. I’d been planning on a much more elaborate rewrite, but one of the writers in my group said that it worked great as it was; I’ll look at the redraft next week and see if I agree (it certainly would be quicker to get it done).

I only got about 40 percent through Chapter Three of Sexist Myths And Why They’re Bullshit. I wound up doing more Leaf this week than I’d expected and for once the time came out of my nonfiction rather than my fiction. I’m okay with that, and I think I can make it up next week.

So confused, and certainly stressful when Trixie was miserable (though the veterinary drugs we got help a lot), but pretty good. And now it’s only a few days to Christmas — where did the time go?

#SFWApro. All rights to Kzine cover (art by Dave Windett) remains with current holders.

 

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Now that’s what I call productive. Well, except for today

TYG, you see, has a weekend trip out of town. So this morning I made a quick run to get some dog meds and other stuff while TYG was still here; that way I don’t have to go through the routine of setting up Plushie’s cage and putting him in it, then placating the dogs after I come back, having ABANDONED THEM OH NOOOOES! That threw me off my game, plus TYG getting ready to go also pulled focus from my writing. Not that she needed my help, but as she was packing, she was chatting, and I was chatting back, and then we had the kissing goodbye, etc, etc.

(Plush Dog contemplates my ankle)

And the weather was cool enough that lunch walkies was a long one. That not only took a chunk of time out of the early afternoon (no complaints, the pups are entitled to it) but I was quite exhausted by the time we got back. I just could not get my head in the game enough to focus on work, so I just blogged for next week (and an Atomic Junkshop post that will go live tomorrow). So all I got done today was 500 words on Oh the Places You’ll Go.

Up to that point, things were productive, despite having a dental appointment Tuesday and Trixie having her recurring tummy troubles (fortunately we have meds, and I can get them into her even if she doesn’t want to eat). In addition to submitting eight Leaf articles I submitted one short story and a revised version of my Space Invaders proposal to McFarland. They liked it, so it’s a go subject to them approving a table of contents and sample chapter; I’ll submit that stuff next month.

I finished the first two chapters of Sexist Myths and Why They’re Bullshit, and got some good feedback on the title from my friends on FB (one of whom still likes Undead Sexist Cliches so I may reconsider it). The footnotes for the next few chapters are in much poorer shape, but hopefully it won’t slow me down too much.

And I got two chapters of Impossible Takes a Little Longer done. So far the changes have gone down smooth, but tougher changes lie ahead. Fingers crossed.

So that was my productive week. The weekend will be spent here at home with the pups, watching movies and doing some writing.

#SFWApro. Photo is mine.

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Thanksgiving was … different

Not the food. Eating at Café Parizade’s big vegan banquet, we found it delicious, as always. Here’s one of my dessert plates. Why yes, we did eat a lot. And enjoyed every mouthful. And they have some neat little figures outside the restaurant too.

But it was the first time in god knows how long that I’d had a day where I didn’t feel the need to do anything. It was a holiday. We didn’t have any errands to run Thanksgiving morning, nowhere to be until lunch, so I just lay around, read, petted dogs, took a walk … it felt fantastic. Even when I’m not writing, I structure (and sometimes overstructure) my time; when I give myself a day off from work, I usually use it to clean or something.

I think I need more days like yesterday. I’ll have Christmas and New Year’s Day, but I definitely need to find space for more truly lazy days in the coming year.

As for the rest of the week, it went fairly well. I got started on the next draft of Sexist Myths, did several Leaf articles and got a couple of thousand worlds on Oh the Places You’ll Go. I also sent in a revised proposal for Space Invaders to McFarland to see if they like it better (it’s tweaked to their specifications, so maybe). I submitted two short stories. And I spent some time thinking about what I wanted to accomplish next year.

Oh, and once again I had to work my schedule around contractor visits due to a plumbing problem. Not as disastrous or expensive as I’d feared though. But Plushie was exceptionally discomfited at having to be caged in with me so he couldn’t interfere with the work.

And here we are at December. Fingers crossed, I will wrap up the year with a productive bang.

#SFWApro. Photos are mine, any rights to figures remain with current holders.

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It was one of those fueled by insomnia weeks

Apparently last week stressed me out more than I realized because this week I just did not sleep. Well, four hours a night, but that’s not a lot.

However this did make for a productive week, and spending yesterday without the dogs (they were in day care) apparently fixed things as I slept like a log last night.

I’m done, pretty much, with combing through bookmarks for Sexist Myths. I incorporated several useful ones into the text but I have so much material now, I don’t think I need to just keep adding (I’m around 80 to 90,000 words, which is not what I thought this would be when I began). I’ve read them over, sorted them out and now I’ll add where I need them: there are still several sections that don’t have enough information or examples or sources. This feels pretty good: scrolling through endless blog posts and articles is more tedious and draining than writing, even when the material’s interesting

I finished another draft of Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates and it’s improving steadily. I thought some about what Bleeding Blue needs but didn’t actually start a second draft. I shall prioritize fiction next week to make up for it.

I submitted two short stories and searched for markets for a couple more. The ones I found were all closed until next reading period, which doesn’t help.

And as usual, I did quite a bit of Leaf work.

I also contributed an Atomic Junkshop article on why outraged supervillains don’t just destroy the DCU or MU comic-book companies for saying smack about them. Below, George Perez gives us one example of the Impossible Man running wild in the Marvel Bullpen.

#SFWApro. All rights to image remain with current holder.

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Spies, mysteries and gender: this week’s reading

AN ACT OF VILLAINY: An Amory Ames Mystery by Ashley Weaver, is a decent retro mystery with a 1930s English sleuthing couple (though their marriage is less stable than detecting couples were at the time), poison-pen letters, plenty of suspects for the murder of a talented actress (a jealous understudy? A cheated-on wife?) and everyone gathered together for the big reveal. I enjoyed this, though the reveal the killer is insane comes out of nowhere — that’s the kind of explanation that needs some groundwork. While this didn’t have as much period detail as I was expecting, I give Weaver points for having all the characters act appropriately formal — Amory’s husband still refers to his mother-in-law as “Mrs,” for instance.

A DELICATE TRUTH by John Le Carré starts with a terrorist operation you just know is going to go terribly wrong (it involves an ambitious British politician working with a private Blackwater-type group), then focuses in on the minister’s private secretary, Toby. He knows something nasty has gone down and begins investigating, but that of course proves an extremely dangerous choice … I’m sympathetic to Le Carré’s scathing view of counter-terrorism and the way botched operations and innocent deaths rarely bring down any punishment. But by the same token, it’s hard for me to buy that the big reveal (innocent woman and child killed!) would actually be a career-ender for anyone. And in many ways, this felt more like a stock spy movie script (Toby struggling to get the truth out reminded me of Three Days of the Condor) than Le Carré’s best work.

YOU THROW LIKE A GIRL: The Blind Spot of Masculinity by former NFL star Don McPherson argues that society needs to throw a sharper light on men’s behavior (“We ask why an abused woman stays in a relationship — but never why the man stays.”) and find positive role models rather than just focusing on what not to do. While much of this is familiar to me, McPherson makes some sharp points, such as the difference between chivalrously protecting women and supporting and helping women.

GOOD AND MAD: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger by Rebecca Traister looks at both the power for change that women’s anger can fuel change (it prompted a lot of women to run for office in 2018) and the way society has portrayed female rage as something they should be ashamed of, particularly when it’s directed at men.

Traister, who’s done a lot of reporting on sexual harassment (and has some eye-raising Harvey Weinstein accounts) does her sharpest writing on that topic. She points out, as others have done, that the issue isn’t sex but the damage to women’s professional lives (half of the women who experience harassment start looking for a new job within two years). And that contrary to anti-metoo writers, the issue is not weak women terrified of sex (as Katie Roiphe pretends) but “women in 2017 who had briefly believed they were equal to their male peers but had just been reminded they were not. [They were] women who had suddenly had their comparative powerlessness, their essential inequality, revealed to them.”

And that, she adds, is why even groping and leering comments that don’t rise to the level of Harvey Weinstein-class predation still deserve to be punished: they’re “professional harm and power abuse” and that needs to end.

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