My Twilight Confession

I have a confession to make.

I am deeply grateful to Twilight.

This might be a startling revelation to those of you who know me, but it's the truth. I don't think that I would be where I am with my own work if it were not for that series...though perhaps not in the way that you might assume.

When I started working on my fantasy novel Twilight was still everywhere. I had seen the posters, heard the fangirl squeeing (not putting the squees down because God knows that within my fandoms I have been known to), and heard a lot of griping about how “real vampires don't sparkle”. I won't pretend I didn't do my share of scoffing at sparkly vampires. I have been a fan of the horror genre since I was a little girl so the idea of vampires being portrayed in such a way was automatically sort of...upsetting to me. However, a friend rightly pointed out that I shouldn't knock something until I'd tried it so, with trepidation, I began to delve into Twilight.

I'll get this out of the way right here before anyone asks. After reading the books, watching/reading a lot of interviews with Stephenie Meyer, and seeing the movies I can say for sure that I don't like Twilight. I have a lot of issues with the series and with many of the things its creator has said, but I don't think badly of anyone who does like it. You should never have to make excuses for the things that you enjoy.

All that being said, you are probably wondering why I do feel this sense of gratitude towards Twilight. Well, it's because my reading of Twilight and its criticism sparked my realization that my book was a rampaging band of cliches led by the Dread Pirate Sue. Specifically, reading Twilight led me to reading sporkings of Twilight. If you aren't familiar with the term and haven't read my blog before, a sporking is, well, think Rifftrax or MST3K. It's criticism, often framed humorously, that follows a given story. I've read them for a lot of fanfiction, as well for books like Eragon, Harry Potter, and The Hunger Games, but Twilight was my first.

I think that reading criticism, and not just of your own work, but in general, is really important. I've talked about my tendency to go and read 1-star reviews of things on Amazon, and reading sporkings like the ones I've read of Twilight is tied to that. I find sporkings to be doubly helpful, actually, because you get a better sense of what the reader is thinking as he or she reads. It can be easy to lose sight of that as a writer. You get so caught up in the story that you are telling that you can forget someone is going to be reading it. Sporkings never let you forget the presence of the Reader. You hear their comments, you see what they like and dislike in “real time”, you see when the writer does something that makes them roll their eyes. It's like having Kevin, Mike, and Bill, or the Nostalgia Critic perched on your shoulder while you read.

There are a number of sporking websites and communities out there. I think you can type “(insert fandom name) + sporking” into Google and find one for just about every fandom. I've read a number of them for books I don't enjoy like Twilight, but also some for books I love like Harry Potter. It's good to read both, it keeps you from fandom arrogance or the automatic assumption that because you like it there's nothing critique-able about it.

Dragon Touched definitely wouldn't be what it is without the time that I have spent online reading these sporkings. I'm sure a lot of people would just tell me to go and read better books instead and sure, a writer should never stop reading. But I think it's important to take a step outside the literature itself to get perspective. Reading sporkings helped me see my work from the outside and the ones that have been the influential to my own writing are Das Mervin's on This is Where the Fish Lives.

I stumbled upon this community (that aspiring writers should definitely check out) when I was close to finishing my first draft of Dragon Touched and simultaneously reading Twilight for the first time. The creator/moderator/head sporker, Mervin, caught my attention right away with her dangerously pointed wit and attention to detail. Her work is fantastic. Her writing is always well-researched, well-written, and thought-provoking.

In fact, it is so thought-provoking that when I finished reading her sporking of Eclipse I was deeply, deeply uncomfortable with my own work. Dragon Touched was always a very different story than Twilight in terms of being “Epic Fantasy” rather than Teen Paranormal Romance, but a lot of the fundamental issues with Twilight were right there in Dragon Touched. The biggest, ugliest, of which being that my main character was an obvious self-insert Mary Sue. Reading Mervin's blog gave me a lot of insight into my own work and pushed me to think long and hard about the kind of story I wanted to tell. It also shocked me out of my relative laziness regarding the mechanics of writing and the importance of editing. It was a giant kick in the ass that couldn't have come at a better time. Amelia, ever kind, told me that I probably would have realized these flaws with my work eventually and maybe she's right. But the important thing was that I hadn't realized it, or maybe I was just scared to acknowledge it. Dragon Touched had been “in progress” for years, Wren was someone I had known since high school, and it was terrifying to contemplate starting all over again. However, reading Mervin's blog showed me how necessary it was that I do just that.

Dragon Touched still isn't perfect, but it also isn't the hot mess that it used to be. And while I hope that Amelia is right and that I would have figured out the issues eventually, I'm glad I got the wake-up call that I needed when I did. So I raise a glass to sporkers everywhere, but especially inimitable Das Mervin, without whom Dragon Touched wouldn't be what it is.

Thank you again, Mervin!

Well, Dear Reader, I should probably get going. Husband just called to remind me to eat, which I haven't yet today, and I need to get some stuff done around the house. I hope that you are having a wonderful holiday season and are staying safe. Take care during your New Years celebrations and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

…;)

Happy Holidays!

"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

Good morning, Dear Reader.

So, I wanted to share something with you. As you may have noticed, I have been slow about posting this month. This is not without a cause. You see, during the past few weeks I have been going through a really bad depressive spell. Those of you who are familiar with the disease know that it often happens this way. There are ups and downs, or cycles. Well lately I have been in a really dark place. Things in my life are fine, which (again, this will sound familiar to you other depressives out there) is one of the most frustrating things. My husband, my friends, my life, they are good. I have every reason to be happy but lately I haven't been.

I've moved through a lot of the “stages” that are familiar to me after years of dealing with this mental illness: anger, hopelessness, constant crying, and most recently apathy. Strangely, this hasn't applied to my work; I've been more productive in the past few weeks than I have been in awhile. But apart from that...it takes a lot of self-control to get up, brush my teeth, shower, eat, run, all those things. Hell, a lot of days I can barely talk to anyone who isn't a lagomorph or a feline.

It's also hard because with these feelings come the old impulses to self-harm that are just wired into my depression. Some people can have this disease without the desire to self-harm, but I think because that was my coping strategy before I ever got help it is just always going to be something that comes up when it gets bad. I won't pretend that I haven't had thoughts of taking my own life as well, though those are truly just thoughts. I am grateful for my past suicide attempt, as strange as it may sound, because it ultimately has taught me how much I do want to live. I know that I don't want to die, or even hurt myself; what I want is for the pain caused by my depression to stop. Cutting was a coping mechanism before I knew any other way to "handle" my depression. I'm proud to say that it's been four years since the last time I hurt myself in any way and I am a stubborn woman and that stubbornness has given me the strength to find better, healthier ways of managing my depression. But it is a constant battle with myself and it is exhausting. That said, please know that I am just sharing what my headspace has been. I want you to know, Dear Reader, that I have no intention of hurting myself. That isn't what this post is about. I'm sharing this with you to provide some context for the rest of what I wanted to write about.

Anyway, yesterday I called my therapist's office to make an appointment. Now, since my depression has been as “under control” as it ever could be in the past few months it has been quite awhile since I last saw my therapist. His office is fantastic and I couldn't be happier with the care that I have received from them, but it will be a month before I can get in to see him (unless someone cancels). This is no one's fault except mine, but I have a lot of trouble seeing my therapist when I am feeling basically ok. I hate to take an hour from someone who might really need it, if that makes any sense. But the fact that it is going to take me a month to get in got me thinking about the tragedy in Connecticut this past Friday.

It is going to take me a month to get in to see my therapist, but you know what? I consider myself lucky. I have insurance that will cover me seeing him and cover my meds should I ever choose to go back on them. I have bipolar depression and depression, but I've been diagnosed. I am aware of the problem, of the triggers, I've gone through rounds of therapy and have been taught healthy coping mechanisms. It may take me a month to see him but I have a therapist who I trust and feel comfortable talking to. He's someone who knows my history and my patterns and is capable of calling me out on my bullshit when necessary. My husband, friends, and family all know about my depression. It isn't something that I am trying to hide or deal with alone. I'm lucky that when it got out of hand when I was in high school my friends and teachers rallied around me. My parents found me a great therapist back in Virginia. It was still hard and before all that I dealt with it alone for years, but when I needed it most I got help. I had access to help. I had a support system.

Being a depressive sucks. There's no other way to say it. It is isolating and miserable and it's hard enough to feel like crap for “no reason” without even factoring in that society's responses tend to be along the lines of: “what do you have to be sad about?” or “you just need to buck up”. It still isn't treated as a real thing by a lot of people so depressives are often left feeling like outsiders with something “wrong” with them. Even for me, with the incredible network of love and support I have, I still have trouble allowing people to see how bad it gets. It makes me feel weak, even though I know better.

I started crying last night while talking to Husband. I was crying because...it's going to take me a month to see my therapist but all I can feel is lucky. I have support and love and I know I'm a depressive. But how many people in this country only have the awful destructive feelings but have no idea what is “wrong”? All they know is the pain, the anger, the apathy, and the eternal sense that they are broken. After Friday a lot of the discourse has been about gun regulation and yes, gun laws need to be re-evaluated. But while the statement “guns don't kill people, people kill people” is trite and used way too frequently as an excuse to close the door on talking about gun regulation, there is some truth to it. People are creative about finding ways to do harm to one another. Just addressing the issue of guns is like putting a bandaid on a deep, festering wound. There is a large portion of the country that needs help. However, they are oftentimes brushed aside, told to “man up” and “deal with it”...and that's if they can get anyone to even acknowledge that they are not ok. A lot of people aren't ever diagnosed. Depression is certainly one mental illness that can slip through the cracks easily, but there are so many others. With health care being as prohibitively expensive as it is it's no wonder that mental illness is often left to build beneath the surface until the pressure inevitably causes an explosion.

Am I saying that mental illness is an excuse to do harm to others? Hell no. Never. My depression sometimes turns me into a real, for lack of a better word, bitch. I can get really mean and really cruel. Sometimes it's like dealing with a hurt animal. Sometimes I am just hurting and not in my right mind and I lash out. Other times I am just mean. Fortunately, I tend to be fairly inwardly directed. In other words, I attack myself and I isolate myself when it's bad just to make sure that I don't say anything hurtful to anyone. My husband ends up seeing the worst of me most of the time, closely followed by the two friends who I talk to the most. I say things to them sometimes that I don't mean, that are hurtful and unkind. And they know me, they know my depression, but they also help keep me honest. They don't walk on eggshells with me and they reinforce my sense of personal accountability. My depression isn't an excuse to hurt anyone's feelings. Does the people who I love knowing about it help? Yes, because it gives them context. They know they aren't the reason. But ultimately, I know that I have this mental illness, I'm an adult, and it's on me to do what I can to keep it under control.

But what if you don't know you are a depressive? Or that you have schizophrenia? Or depersonalization disorder? If you don't know, if the people around you don't know, how can you get help? How can you learn to manage it if you are never given the tools? And what motivation do you have if society wants to pretend that the problem isn't there? There's a huge stigma on mental illness, even one as comparatively common and “manageable” as depression. It's scary to tell anyone that you have feelings of wanting to hurt yourself or that there are days when you can't make yourself care enough to eat something. And what about the people around you? I put my parents through hell my senior year of high school and I'm sure one of the hardest things for them was that they felt alone dealing with my mental illness. If it's your child you feel responsible and that is a huge burden to bear and one that most feel they have to deal with alone.

As our society continues its shift towards being more “virtual”, with people telecommuting, skyping, facebooking, and doing most of their communication via smartphone it is going to get easier and easier for mental illnesses to go unnoticed and untreated. It is going to get easier to pretend there isn't a problem. But we have to find a way to do the opposite.

*Deep breath*

This post has gotten really long, so I'm going to wrap it up. This post is not intended to remove responsibility for Friday's tragedy from its perpetrator and I hope that's clear. However, the combination of that, what I have been going through, and making my appointment with my therapist got me thinking and I wanted to share some of those thoughts.

As Dumbledore so wisely said: “Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” We, as a country, treat mental illness as “that-which-must-not-be-named”. It is time for us to say the names, to acknowledge them and help those for whom those “unspeakable” things are a part of their day-to-day existence. I can tell you from experience that wishing mental illness away doesn't work and pretending that it doesn't exist has the potential to be catastrophic. We are a country that has long been characterized by bravery and a certain brassy tendency to confront things head-on. It is time for us to turn that bravery inwards and make our country safer. Let's do what we do in therapy: admit there's a problem and put our energies towards dealing with it in a healthy and sustainable way.

On Tropes

Good Morning, Dear Reader!

Ok, so, I feel like from how much I poke fun at my own work you guys must think that I can't stand my book or its world. I promise that's totally not the case. While I do occasionally need to take a “Leave of Absence” from the EBR just to refresh my mind and ideas, it is a world that I do love. Most of my comments about the failings of early iterations of said world are just the result of me being honest about its flaws. And that certainly isn't to say that the current iteration is perfect. It isn't. Not even close. But I am hoping that (especially for those of you who have read Dragon Touched) you can see the ways it has changed. This blog is a lot about the journey, after all, and you can't really honestly evaluate a journey if you don't have a sense of the starting point.

Ah, starting points. Would you like to hear some of mine?

Quests: I love quests. I do. I'm a gamer who grew up reading Lord of the Rings and the The Belgariad. Quests are fun and you can have lots of them and frequently your characters end up getting cool stuff at the end of them. Right? And what makes for better quests than the one Ultimate Accessory of World Domination (or UAWD) that has to be either recovered or destroyed? A One Ring, or Horcruxes, or an Orb that will either dismantle the world or return it to glory.

Wren was going to go on a quest...probably with a Five Man Band. I believe there was something about reuniting lost parts of the UAWD and using it to become a sort of godlike entity.

Big Bad: One dude who is worse than everyone. He always wears all black and most likely his name has a “The” at the beginning. Lots of potential for him to “go Vader” and be a main character's biological parent.

Hm...The Overlord Rising. Like I've said, I do have some tropes in tact...maybe. I guess we'll have to see, won't we? (winky face)

Magic Object: Previously mentioned in the “Quest” section. There has to be something for the hero(es) to quest after, right? Jewelry is always a viable option, although swords do make excellent quest-objects.

*In George Takei's awesome voice* Oh my. I had these in spades. Dragon eggs, magic swords, magic jewelry, if it could be enchanted and used as a MacGuffin, it was. I think Wren herself was a MacGuffin at one point.

Dragons: This one seems obvious. What is more “fantasy” than dragons, right? They are big, they are magical, they are older than time itself, what's not to love? Also, they frequently can be found guarding quest-objects and dispensing profound wisdom to questing main characters.

I still have dragons because I love them. However, not all of my dragons fall into the typical role of dragons. This was the result of wondering what a world would be like if there were dragons that weren't wise or even sentient. I also really enjoy thinking about dragons from a biological standpoint in terms of their habitats and behaviors. Combine this with a long-standing love of dinosaurs and you can bet dragons are going to have a role to play. Besides, one can't really have a book called “Dragon Touched” without there being dragons in it. Right? Unless the dragons are MacGuffins. MacDragons? That sounds like a fantasy sandwich.

...moving right along.

Magic: How can you write a fantasy novel without magic?

That being said, the more fantasy I read the more my concept of what magic is and could be evolves. I have read a number of different ways that magic can shape the world and the more I read the more ideas I have about how I want magic to be a part of the EBR. I think for me one of the biggest realizations was that I wanted magic fully integrated. I didn't want to write about the world where magic had faded and the protagonist's journey is what brought it back. I wanted to have a world more like Harry Potter's world where magic simply is. Granted, due to the scope of Dragon Touched that element of world building isn't as fleshed out in Book I as it will be, but that is the direction I am heading.

In the beginning, however, all I knew about magic in my world was that Wren had it. Lots of it. Maybe because of a prophesy. She could do pretty much all the things and of course she'd be the odd one out in her family for it. Ultimately, her magic would probably be the result of being a “secret baby”. You know the type. The Luke Skywalkers, Garions, and Eragons. In other words, every Farm Boy trope imaginable. Or, if not that, a Cinderella story. A young girl raised by parents (or at least one parent) who are not her real parents and treated shamefully by them. Naturally, Wren would rise above such behavior and show them all becoming the grand supreme ruler of all things covered in awesomesauce.

Ok, so why am I telling you all this? Well, like I said before it is certainly not to claim that my work is without flaws. It has plenty of flaws that I work every day towards correcting. However, I don't see any reason not to be honest about where I have come from. I guess maybe I hope that reading this might help any of you who are struggling with your own stories and characters. The only limit really is your own patience and desire to improve. When you get frustrated just remember that nothing starts off perfect (and if you need a reminder, just read this post again :P). I don't think any writer worth his or her salt really ever think that his/her work is perfect, which is one of the best and most obnoxious things about this job. It means the work is never done and that you as a writer are never done growing and learning.

Speaking of learning, next time I am going to be talking about sporks and how they influenced me as a writer. Now, however, it's time to return to the EBR and Book II.

If I don't post before Christmas (depends on how crazy things get), Happy Holidays, Dear Reader. I hope that they are filled with peace and joy, and good food and drink.

Kings Are Easier

I mean for storytelling purposes. I don't actually have any data about the promiscuity of royalty.

Anyway.

I wrote a list while working on my political post of why politics are structured the way they are in a lot of “traditional epic fantasy”.

1. Kings are easier.

Now, I know that this is very simplistic, but I think there is some merit to it. From a storytelling perspective it is a whole lot easier to deal with one dude in charge instead of a governing body of some sort. Kings are easier to make and topple, and there is a larger chance of extremes when your whole system of government relies upon the whims of one person with all the power. Big governments are unwieldy and need to be populated by a large cast of characters with their own motivations and needs. It is just easier to deal with one person.

2. Secret royalty is fun.

How many times have we seen the trope where some clueless farmboy finds out that he is, if not the “Chosen One”, at least a prince in disguise? It is a trope because it gets used so often and part of the reason it is is because it's fun. It's always fun to have a character turn out to be more than what they appear to be and royalty in disguise is a pretty tried and true method for doing that. It is also easier with a king to have a bastard born and raised in secret and if it's one of the king's by-blows it tends to have more weight than if it were just a random senator or member of a council. Which brings me to thought number three.

3. Kings are more epic than senators.

I have a lot of respect for the legislative branch in terms of its role in government. However, there's just something more “epic” about a king. Traditional fantasy in the vein of Lord of the Rings or A Song of Ice and Fire is of a huge scale and royalty fits in with that.

4. “Epic Fantasy” is usually medieval.

This one is more purely pragmatic. It is pretty common that epic fantasy takes place in a medieval world of some sort. It lends itself well to sword and sorcery and that is a big part of the genre. It is also a world that is highly romanticized in our culture and one that is so vastly different from our own that it is fun to imagine. Granted, it ends up being heavily idealized in fantasy as well (unless you're a writer like G.R.R. Martin), but that's ok when it's done well. It gives writers a chance to write about castles, knights on their chargers, and sword fights, and then bring in fanciful things like dragons and magic. Anyway, the point is that medieval history conjures up images of kings and queens, not senators and congressmen. If you think of a medieval court, chances are you are imagining a king or queen and assorted princes and princesses. Castles and kings go together like Dean Winchester and pie.

Anyway, I'm not trying to say anything big and certainly nothing I am saying is “new”, I just wanted to put a few thoughts down as to why politics in fantasy are usually structured as they are and these were the things that I came up with. Feel free to weigh in in the comments and let me know anything I missed. Or argue with me, that's always fun too. :)

Until next time, Dear Reader, take care!

Fornicating Badgers: How I Came To Re-Write Book the First Time

Hello again, friends!

This is the first part of my politics post-sorry it has taken me so long! In this post I will be mostly addressing my experience incorporating politics into the EBR, while in the next one I will share some general thoughts about politics in fantasy. So, if this sounds interesting to you...welcome aboard!

Before we get started I feel like I should probably 'fess up to something. Politics used to bore me to tears in both real life and literature. When I started reading fantasy I wanted quests, magic, and action. I'd skip over scenes that talked about political intrigue and strategy to find out what characters were doing. The first drafts of DragonTouched really reflected this attitude. I've said before that they were an amalgamation of what I love about fantasy and that's pretty accurate. They were fantasy's grab-bag, or perhaps more accurately, fantasy's junk drawer.

However, the one thing that I was not at all interested in including was politics. I wanted to focus on a main character (Wren) and her supporting cast of awesome (but not-as-awesome-as-the-central-Sue) characters. Kings and such were there for plot convenience. They were there to spawn “Secret Princes Raised As Farmboys” or to be fought against because they were Evil, or to knight the Sue for being such a “speshul snowflake”. Governments were there so I could have interesting names and cool cities to describe, not to actually do anything.

One day, after patiently listening to more babbling about all the super-cool things that Wren was going to do, Amelia asked me a really practical, cogent question about the governing bodies within the EBR (sorry, Amelia, I don't remember what it was but it came from you so I know it was practical and cogent). I was stumped. I had pretty much thought as far as “kings and queens are cool and get to wear crowns and stuff”. Amelia was very kind about my startling lack of knowledge about my own world and politely suggested that maybe I should think about some of these things.

I think I really got started addressing those issues one day when I was working on drawing maps of the EBR. It had taken me six or seven tries to actually get a map that I liked (and one that was geographically possible, for the most part), and I had gone and drawn two or three of them for different purposes. One was to sketch out borders, one was to hang on the wall so that I could easily reference it at all times, and one was to mark out the ranges of all my monsters so that I wouldn't have something really random like a fihuri popping up in Windajiona.

As I was working on the monster one map I started wondering how the presence of say, crop-eating unicorns would effect commerce in that part of the world, which led to larger questions about trade in general. I started drawing roads and trade routes and making lists of what the principal exports of each duchy would be. This, in turn, led to a lot of thoughts about politics. Why was the EBR structured the way that it was? Why duchies instead of kingdoms? What was the purpose of the titular “Overlord”? Were the Realms a peaceful place?

This was not a can of worms that I had opened. This was a Pandora's Box of relentlessly fornicating badgers: ornery, obnoxious, and determined to reproduce. Each question spawned more questions and, what was “worse” was that each question exposed the existing holes in the current story structure. Soon, book came to resemble a colander it was so full of holes. The only thing left was Wren, and that was because she was too big a sue to fit through any of them.

It was then that I knew what I had to do; scrap it and start all over. It was a harrowing decision because that was when the story was at its most WFSIMSS¹ stage. However, a really cool thing had started to happen as I asked myself all these questions. I found myself getting more and more interested in my world for its own sake and less for how it was my escape. Those of you who started reading my blog at the beginning know that the EBR started off as escapist writing for me in an effort to “deal with” my depression. I'm not ashamed of how it started, but I'm really glad that it took the turn that it did. It is a much more interesting story now and a lot of that is because I started looking at the political environments of the EBR and trying to treat them as “realistically” as I could.

All that being said about my own work, I do have some thoughts as to why politics are often structured the way they are in “traditional epic fantasy”. Please join me next time for what should be the last political post. :)

1Wish Fulfillment Self-Insert Mary Sue Story

Grieving

Today is a really rough day for me. I found out from my mother that the last of my childhood pets, a beagle named Ethan, and a cat named Memphis, passed away. Ethan a few weeks ago from old age, and Memphis after a valiant fight with cancer.

I know a lot of you will wonder at my grief here because they are "just" animals but...for me they never were. Pets always had a special place in my family. They were "furry people" and they knew it. I was very lucky in pets growing up. We never had fewer than one dog and after I was about five, never fewer than two cats. I just want to talk about the animals that I've loved and lost for a little bit, if that's ok. I want them to know that they are loved and remembered.

Baxter and Sweetpea were the dogs who were there when I was born who used to sleep under my crib and follow me around the house. Baxter was a hound-dog mix who was way too smart for his own good. Sweetpea was a terrier-mix who was black and white as a baby, and a dignified steel-gray and black at the end of her very long life. My parents saved her life and I know she never forgot it.

We found the cats Cally and Cinnamon in a garbage dump in a small town in tidewater Virginia. Cally came and got into my lap when we first met, clearly "adopting" me. We caught Cinny a week later. Cally was the smartest animal I have ever known and my constant companion growing up. Cinny grew into the embodiment of quiet sweetness who never met a patch of sunlit floor she didn't like.

Our dog Jake was a beautiful black, white, and brown mix who liked to stand up and "dance" with me, Grizwald (named for the national lampoons family because he was so goofy) was a lab-mix who proved that there was no such thing as a bad dog, some just need more training than others. Rosie was dubbed the "Wonder Beagle" for all that she survived in her long life and Toby, the little beagle, was so shy and sweet and wanted so badly to please us to show us how grateful he was to be adopted. He was taken from us suddenly and way before his time. The first book I ever wrote was about Rosie, Toby, Cally, and Cinny trying to solve the mystery of the werewolf in the woods behind our house.

And Ethan, the last in a long, proud line of dogs...my family brought him home when I was in the seventh grade. I'd stayed home to study for an exam and when they got home there was this young, incredibly lively beagle with them. He was the first dog I ever had who ripped apart some of my books and man if he wasn't proud of himself for showing that mean old book who was boss. He liked to sing with you if you sang in front of him and for some reason only he knew, he loved broccoli and red onions. He snored so loudly you could hear him three floors up and years after moving out of my parents house I would still find his hair on things. Whenever I came home from college he was always the first member of the family to come and say "welcome home". He'd sprint across the driveway and careen into my legs so hard he would almost knock me over, then he'd about kill himself trying to crawl up my body so he could lick my face.

Memphis was a kitten when we brought him home after Cally died, a little black and white bundle of fur who hid behind the washing machine. He liked to sit in my lap when I crossed my legs and was very fond of munching on the big wolf spiders that lived around our house. He was so goofy and sweet and his presence was the only thing that saved Cinny from completely disappearing into herself after Cally died. He had spunk and was so friendly that you'd think he was a small, cat-shaped dog.

Ethan, Memphis, I'm so sorry I wasn't home when you left us. Memphy, it kills me to know you were so sick. You were such a young boy and I know you must have been scared and in pain. I know that mom and dad did everything that they could for you and I know that you were grateful for it. Thank you for taking care of Cinny and for being the joyful, silly boy that you were. I know that you're now with the other members of our furry family and that you're free of pain. Ethan, my beagle, I'm so sorry that I never saw you again after I left the last time. I hope that you know that I thought about you every day. There's a picture of you and Cally on the little fridge next to my desk. You're both lying out on the deck in the sun. You look so content and happy. I hope that you know that I love you. That though there were circumstances that kept me from home I never abandoned you. I knew you were safe at home, I always asked after you, and I always talked about you with love and pride. I have faith that even though I was gone you knew that I loved you and Ethan, I know you would have run (just a little more slowly) to greet me even after all this time. I'm so sorry I didn't make it home in time to see you. I'm so sorry.

My furry family, you guys were never just pets. You were my best friends and partners in crime growing up. You were protectors and loyal friends. You taught me so much about love, and loyalty, and gratitude, and just plain being able to enjoy bright sun and good company. Your snores, and purrs, and beagling are the sounds of my childhood and home. While I am not sure of where I might go after my own death, I know that there are Summerlands for you. A place where you are all young and whole and together. You deserve it. I know that for me, no afterlife could be truly heavenly without you in it.

Ethan, Memphis, go and play with everyone. Memphis, I know that Cinny will be so happy to see you. Ethan...Good boy.

Rest in peace.

About My Uncharacteristic Optimism

I just wanted to throw one last thing out there after my last post. I know that I sounded incredibly idealistic, especially in the last paragraph. But you know what? I am ok with it. I have read so much cynicism in the past week that it pushed me out of my comfortable nest of pessimism to take up the idealistic stance for once. Seriously, I was just so sick of reading why everything sucks and how meaningless this election was and I'm sorry, but what kind of message is that? If there was ever a time for us to be forward-looking and idealistic...it's now. What is wrong with a little hope, as long as it doesn't mean burying our heads in the sand about the very real nature of the problems we face? So that was me being hopeful. I know it's weird, but let's roll with it. :)

Dear Body,

I know that the past few weeks we haven't been at our best. I'm still not sure what happened down in the nether-regions. Either IUD needed to have a nap, or Lady-Parts got sick of its presence and decided that the best course of action was to absorb it like an alien from a John Carpenter movie. Either way, there's been a lot of pain for the past few weeks. Yesterday I shocked you by actually taking one of my Norcos when ovaries decided to remind me that they were still pissed off by all the upheaval. It wasn't a good afternoon for us, was it? Stumbling around the house drunkenly and not even for a fun reason. I know you were grateful for strategic application of heating pad and I appreciate you working with the Norco to help me stop feeling like wolverines (not the hot kind) were gnawing on my squishy bits. I admire your spirit.

Also, Brain, I know that we've been experiencing a lot of pain, but is it really necessary to assure me that it is for the WORST POSSIBLE REASONS? You can't help that we didn't know what was wrong and I know that you dealt with it the best you could. You amped up my OCD so that I could convince myself for small periods of time that if I flicked the lights on and off the right number of times, or washed my hands enough, everything would be ok. However, I don't appreciate that after I found out about surgery you worked overtime to come up with every horrible thing that could happen during the procedure and stacked them ten-deep into both my waking and sleeping moments. Since then you have allowed Depression to get his lying, manipulative hands on you to convince us that we are worthless and fail at everything. Body is broken because I am broken, right? No, Brain, that's enough. The pain was real and for a real reason. You have the picture the nice surgeon drew you to prove it. It is natural that you were scared by all the new pain, so let it go. You have to start resting. You have to start letting Body sleep at night. Surgery is done, Husband is no longer traveling, Election is over, and books will get written (especially if you get rest so you aren't useless (no offense) during the day).

Furthermore, body has informed me that there are now seasonal intruders on board. Throat is swollen and pissed off about it. Head is hurting. Nose is jammed full of goo. Overall temperature has started to rise. In other words, we are getting sick. Brain, it is time for you to calm down, slow your roll, and let Body rest. I do not want to have to take you out with Nyquil, but so help me, I'll do it. You know me, I hate ultimatums, but it's time for the line in the sand. Body has been doing the best that it can, it is time for you to do your part and let it rest so that the invaders don't win.

Also, I don't have time to be sick. So work it out, all of you. Play nicely or I will Nyquil you. So there. 

Love, 

Sentience

Please don't eat me: My thoughts post-election

Good morning, friends. This is the first of two posts about an issue that has been pretty front-and-center in the US as of late. Any guesses as to what I want to write about?

I'll give you a hint-it involves a lot of shouting, name-calling, and a repeated sentiment that the world will end if the other guy (who our sources tell us was Satan's roommate back in college) wins.

Yes, I am talking about politics.

Now, before you zone out on me with a piteous groan of: “Oh gods, not you too!” let me temper this by saying that only this first post is going to deal with US politics and the election. I am passionate about the events of last night and do have some thoughts I want to get out. However, the other political post will be more fun as I about politics in fantasy. It just made sense to do these posts back-to-back, especially after last night.

Does that sound do-able? Then let's jump in.

I was thinking this morning about exactly what I wanted to say here or, quite honestly, if I even wanted to say anything at all about politics. I was raised not to talk about politics, money, or religion and I think there's a lot to be said for that. I tend to believe that those things are a person's own business. This is further complicated by the fact that this blog is an interesting convergence of personal and professional space for me. Currently this is my only “author website”, but at the same time I have shared some deeply personal things here. Thinking about what I have already shared about my depression, self-harm, suicide attempt, and my lady-bits, well, politics seems a bit tame after all that.

So, in the interest of transparency: I voted for Obama. I spent a lot of time before the election reading things and watching things, in other words, doing what I always do when in doubt: research. I know I am not alone in that I wasn't blown away by President Obama's first term. However, I am hopeful now that he has won a second one. I think that this is the best thing that could have happened. Is he perfect? Absolutely not. However, I don't think that a big presidential transition would have been good for us right now. I think that if Governor Romney had won we would have seen a repeat of President Obama's first term. I think he would have faced a lot of obstruction from the democratic party (sorry guys, but we're all human here) and we just would have been mired in mud-slinging, recrimination, and stagnation. I am hopeful that both President Obama and Governor Romney make good on their assertions that we need to work together, because they are absolutely right. Nothing is served by us bickering at this point.

I will also freely admit that my gender came into play when it came time to cast my vote. I couldn't vote for a president whose party seemed to treat my vagina as a pre-existing condition. I was genuinely creeped out by some of the rhetoric coming from the right this election season. “Legitimate rape”? Really? To channel my MMORPG gaming self: GTFO of my body. I am the only person qualified to make choices about it. I believe every woman should have that right. If you are pro-life, good on you. If you are pro-choice, good on you. The power to decide the fate of your body should rest with you. While I do like smaller government, I don't want it to be so small that it can comfortably nestle in my uterus.

Furthermore, I firmly believe that my gender shouldn't determine how much I get paid, nor should it be used to rob me of control of my body. I am grateful to President Obama for standing up for women like me, my sister, my mom, my girlfriends, and any daughters I may ever have. It saddens me that it was even an issue, but I am so proud to be an American woman today. We have been fighting hard and the results of this election show that it is not for nothing. This gives me hope.

Speaking of things that give me hope...it seems like we are moving away from a victim-blaming mentality and towards a sense that we are in this together. I know that President Obama's “You didn't build that” has been twisted to imply that people who succeed deserve no credit for it. However, that is not the core message there. The message is that we are a nation. We are the United States of America. We fail and succeed together. We are not islands of success or failure. It is a fallacy to assume that the disenfranchised portion of our country is that way by choice. I am not saying that we have no responsibility. I am not saying that we don't make our own beds. Personal accountability is important to me, but I can't in good conscience vote for anyone who is willing to write off a portion of the country on the assumption that “well it's their own fault”.

Let me make it personal for a moment. What if all of this fuckery with my IUD had happened before Husband and I had gotten married? I was uninsured for awhile. What if I not only had to have surgery, but it had gone badly and I'd needed to stay in the hospital for awhile? That would have put us in a really precarious position financially. It wouldn't have been because we were irresponsible, it just would have been really, really awful luck. I am beyond grateful that that didn't happen but the point is it could have.

I want to know that there's someone in the White House who wouldn't want to punish me for that ill-luck. I would want someone who has the faith that if I accept help it is not because I am looking for a handout or that I am lazy, but simply that I needed help. I want a leader who trusts that I am doing the best I can and that I will repay the help given to me as soon as I am able.

I am not in favor of a giant government, ok? But I do think that our government has to remember that it is first and foremost “of the people, by the people, for the people”. Government programs are not about helping lazy people stay lazy. Are there lazy people who take advantage? Yes. But they aren't about keeping people complacent, they are about being willing to give our fellow men and women a hand when they need it.

Look at this way: imagine you are rock climbing with a group of strangers. Suddenly, the safety equipment fails and all of you are find yourselves without anything keeping you from plummeting to your deaths. Now, you were one of the first up the rock face and your brand-new climbing shoes are giving you more traction, so you use your position to get up and over, reaching safety. Do you look over the edge and watch dispassionately as the people struggle, clucking your tongue and berating them for not having superior equipment too? Do you watch them sweat and start to slip and shout down: “you're not trying hard enough! I got up here so you have no excuse?”

Hell no. You help pull them to safety. You extend a rope, a hand, a branch, anything to make sure that your fellow man does not perish. And, if you'll permit the conceit, chances are the people you pulling aren't just dangling there and letting you do all the work. They are scrabbling for a toe-hold that they only would have been able to reach with your help.

Unfortunately, some people will never try the climb, and that means that they will stay as they are. However, they need to have the option. They need to have the opportunity. And they need to have access to help to get them off the ground and something to catch them when they loose their footing. Summiting the mountain shouldn't only be possible for people who had access to all the best equipment and training right from the start. It should be possible for the people who started out with nothing but a little chalk on their fingers and the drive to go for it.

That is how our government should be. It should let us do the work and climb our own mountains, but man, if our equipment fails and we are in danger of plunging...it's good to know that there's someone there to catch us and let us regain our footing. Then it is on us to pay it forward.

So, yes. Obviously there are a lot of issues in play here that I haven't talked about that I will leave discussion of to better political minds than mine. I think that we need to recognize that for the most part, Donkey or Pachyderm, we want the same thing. We want a strong, vibrant, stable country. We have been disagreeing a lot on how to get there, but it is time to set that aside. Let's remember that as big as we are, we are ultimately just a community. We need to take care of each other and work together to move forward. Set aside your party colors, or even better, combine them. Our flag bears both red and blue, after all. It's time for us to do the same and unite under those colors to get shit done. It's time to stop being Republicans or Democrats, Red or Blue, Donkeys or Elephants. We are Americans. We are stars and stripes forever. We are eagles. So, let's do this. Let's fly together.

IUD Apparently Needed A Nap

Ahoy-hoy friends!

So, I survived! I'm sorry that it's taken me over a week to actually post anything but last week was, as you can imagine, a little crazy. Somehow we managed to still celebrate my birthday and get me both into and out of the hospital in one piece. :)

My friends and husband are incredible; I truly couldn't ask for a more supportive, loving group of people in my life. Especially with Husband out of town, my friends have been very sweet and have looked after me better than I deserve. Thank y'all so much. I am so lucky to know you.

As you probably remember from my last post, my lady-parts have been a giant pain in the cervix for the past few weeks. Well, when I went in for surgery on Friday we were finally able to ascertain what had happened. My IUD, which we knew had slipped low, had actually managed to lie down on my cervix and then proceeded to nestle in and embed there. I guess it needed to have a nap?

Anyway, with the aid of a little camera my doctor was able to get a grip on the thing and pull it out. I woke up in a lot of pain, though I'm grateful to be able to say that the pain has been completely manageable this week...as long as I don't move around too much. Those of you who know me know that the whole not moving around/taking things easy isn't really in my MO, but I am trying to take care of myself. Husband being gone has actually made taking it easy a little bit easier because I am deeply aware that if I push too hard and hurt myself I am on my own to deal with it unless I want to bother one of my friends. They have already been so sweet and supportive and they have tons of stuff going on in their own lives, so I hate to impose on anyway.

So yes, the whole point of this was to let you, Dear Reader, know what has been going on. I plan to start actually posting interesting (are they interesting? I really hope so) things again next week. I have just needed some time to take care of myself and recover a little bit. Couple that with how uncomfortable it is for me to actually sit at my desk at the moment and things are a little slow.

Gah! And that makes me so antsy! I am antsy to get back to work! :) And that's a good sign. How...twitchy I am to return to work tells me that I am doing the right job.

See you all soon!

Birthday News

Hello Friends,

So...this has been a rough few weeks. I had to go in for some exams because my body was not...behaving the way that it was supposed to. I was having a lot of pain and no one could figure out why exactly that was happening.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks. I had an ultrasound on Friday and they found out that my IUD was sitting too low in my uterus. Obviously the choice was to take it out.

Yesterday I went to my Primary Care Physician and she tried...twice. The thing wouldn't budge. So, after consulting with other doctors she reached the conclusion that the IUD was probably embedded in either my cervix or uterus. She sent me to the hospital today to see a gynecologist. Always a great way to start one's birthday. So, I went to the hospital at 8:30 AM and proceeded to have another doctor go spelunking into my nether-regions.

I am lucky because both doctors are really fantastic, but unfortunately the OBGYN didn't have any more luck. After a long period of adjusting and tugging, the thing wouldn't come out. We tried numbing me (nothing like a giant needle to the cervix on your birthday) and then some more pulling...but sadly no dice.

The long and short of it is that I have to have surgery. The concern is that the IUD has somehow shifted and is now lodged in my uterus. I'm going to go in on Friday afternoon and they will try a more non-invasive procedure first (with me completely put under) and then a slightly more invasive one if that doesn't succeed.

I-I am of two minds, really. I was in a hideous amount of pain today while they were trying, but it got to a point where I was growling at the doctor to just do it because “I can take it”. Because I really just wanted to be done with feeling so miserable. And I'm scared of surgery.

But...surgery it is. There isn't a choice. I am really nervous, really frightened, but I am trying to keep a good headspace about it.

Still, please send good thoughts my way? I'm trying to keep away from being completely freaked out. I'm going to have some good food, have some champagne tonight for my birthday, and just try to be happy.

Thank you to my friends and my incredible husband for being so sweet and taking such good care of me. I'll update as soon as I can.

All the love!

Small freak out

Yeesh, I am going to drive myself crazy. I mean, that's ok...that's a writer thing, right?

Ok, so you may have gathered from my post title that I am feeling a little overwhelmed. My fantasy series is just...there's so much. It is such a big world and I am suddenly finding myself doubting my ability to put it all on a page and have it come out as anything other than an incoherent mess. I have outlined up one side and down the other and written a lot but I just feel like I will never get it done.

I think some of this is that I'm almost done with book 3 of ASOIAF (which I'd never read before this year) and I am blown away by the sheer scope of G.R.R. Martin's world. I find myself looking at what he's done and going: “yep, there's no way I could ever do anything like that”. And on the one hand that's ok. I don't want to tell his story, I want to tell mine. The EBR is very different from Westeros, even though they both share some “Epic Fantasy” traits. However, one of the similarities is that scope (big world, lots of characters, lots of cultures and settings) and I am just scared that nothing I could ever do could share that mastery.

I need to just write, which is part of why I decided to take a few minutes to blog. It actually helps me start putting words on a page and get past my fear of completely failing and just do my damn job.

I am just...doubting myself right now. I have a wonderful support system in my life and have had a number of people tell me how much they like Dragon Touched and I just-I don't want to let anyone down.

Thanks for listening, friends. I doubt this will be the last post where I freak out.

Ok...Time to take a deep breath and work. I will never get better if I don't practice, practice, practice. “Quantity produces quality”, right Mr. Bradbury?

Here's hoping!