Snark in the name of sex education

I wrote a thing for the Girl Museum blog a few weeks ago, for our 52 Objects exhibition (which is really cool in it's own right, and you should go look at it. That's why I linked it). I wanted to write on it when I signed up to do it, and then I didn't because I realized I'd have to actually, you know, do it, and then I had to because I said I would and the deadline was getting close.

And then I got angry. Which might sound weird, but I have a really big issue with a lot of sex education programs out there, because they suck. Some are ok–my sex ed was ok–not amazing, but at least the 4-J school district actually taught sex ed, and I got varying levels of it in the 5th, 8th, 9th, and 10th grades. Admittedly, the 10th grade version sucked because the teacher was bad at all things, and the 9th grade version was scary because Coach Bass was scary. In a good way, but still. 5th grade was biological, and divided by gender, which was good, and 8th grade focused a bit more on issues of "don't get pregnant, here's how not to (rather lacking in practical details, but at least we got told about things like condoms)" and that sort of thing.

What I don't remember any of them looking at, though, was issues of consent. That you can say no, and if you do say no, anything after that point is rape. Doesn't matter the circumstances, it's rape. Doesn't matter if you said yes earlier, if you're saying no now, it's rape. Consent is, in my mind, the single biggest thing that's not being taught, let alone being clearly taught. It's horrible, and we can see the outcomes reverberating throughout Hollywood right now, let alone in "joking" phrases like "No Means Yes, Yes Means Anal."

So yes, the notion of consent is a HUGE deal to me, and I hate it when people muddy the waters with phrases like "date rape" (sorry Mom, but I disagree with you completely). It's not different, it's not less rapey. I can understand why some people would like it to be different–it can change one's mentality to being less of a victim, but I think it muddies the waters in ways that allow rapists to think it's ok. It's not. Related, here's a funny, but irritating they had to make it at all, vido on consent.

All that to say that you should go read my thing over at Girl Museum. The post is here, and I got snarky because we were discussing changing some objects, and mine was possibly on the chopping block, especially since I didn't really want to write it (but we didn't know what would be coming in, so we wanted a backup we could run with). I strongly encourage watching, at least in relation to this post over here, the John Oliver video over there. Fluffy the Bunny is funny, and the actual object (the video "Molly Grows Up") is really interesting from a historical/sociological perspective.

Right, back to #NanNoWriMo.

#NanNoWriMo

Or, if you don't speak hashtag, and really, why would you, it's National Novel Writing Month. I'm not sure why it's has "national" in the title, since it seems to be a pretty international thing these days, but yup, November is the time of year when a surprisingly large number of lunatics commit to writing a novel in a month. This year, I'm one of those lunatics.

I'm not sure what other people accomplish; I can't write a novel in a month, even if I weren't working full time, but I also imagine others are more driven than I am (seriously, that wouldn't be hard). Conversely, I also know that the likes of Stephen King and John Scalzi don't get their stuff done in a month–and Scalzi's novels are under 100k (I believe he said they tend to sit between 80-90k), so expecting someone to pump out a 60-80k novel in 30 days is unreasonable. Also, you try writing 2k words a day (which is what Stephen King does). Unless you start repeatedly typing "balls" over and over again, it's hard to do with fiction. Especially for those of us who self-edit as we type, removing many extraneous words (no, "that' is not necessary for much beyond padding a word count). Less hard for academic work–not easy, mind you–or editorial pieces, but never easy.

That said, it should be entirely possible to get the barf draft out in a month. It won't be pretty, but it will be something complete to work with. At least that's my goal. Barf a full first, very rough, draft into Scrivener by 30 November, then leave it be until January or so, when I'll go back and start editing it for various plot holes, bad phrases, etc.

And I'm cheating. I took this week off from work (and the whole month off from Girl Museum, which is really weird for me, as I've not had a proper break from GM since I started in January of 2010), so I get an extra 2 days. Possibly up to 5, if I extend through the first weekend of December. Also, I wrote the first chapter several years ago, so I'm around 1100 words up to start with.

Though I'm only working on Chapter 3, and fairly certain that I really only have one chapter, just with a couple of breaks in it. Meh. I can sort that nonsense out later. Barf a draft up, first!

Don't expect this to be a regular thing, but for now, I leave you with this, the very beginning.

“That went well, I think.”
Anya looked at Lila in disbelief. “In what world did that go well? Sandwich is missing part of his little finger and all of his eyebrow, Nate is still unconscious, and you, well you’re just having a bullet dug out of your shoulder. None of that can be defined as ‘well,’ Captain.”

I wrote a thing!

You can read it here: http://standardissuemagazine.com/arts/here-come-the-girls/

I'm quite chuffed about it. Very little editing done to it, none of it onerous (just things to standardize to their style). It feels quite good to have written something that someone else has published, not felt the need to edit, and frankly, done it all in less than a week (though it was arranged about a month prior to that). Most of that week was spent trying to get images sorted out, anyway!

Go me! A positive start to a new year. May it be better than the shitstorm that was 2016.

Pet Peeves

1. I can't talk about work on my blog. Or I won't. There's so much I could say, but I won't jeopardize my job, or my work, because I love both. Hence a lot of the silence around these parts.

2. People who capitalize random words (in English). German? Fine. Nouns are capitalized in German (or so says my friend who is fluent in all aspects of German). Everything I work with is in English, and the people I work with are largely native English speakers (in theory. I doubt the Brits actually know the English language).

3. People who use apostrophes to pluralize words. The plural of word is words. Not word's. I get that "1950s" feels weird and you want to write "1950's." Wrong, but at least I can understand that. I can also understand if you don't get the difference between girl's rights (a singular girl and the rights accorded to her) and girls' rights (the rights accorded to all girls), but the plural of a word NEVER requires an apostrophe unless it's also in possession of something.

4. People who don't use the Oxford comma. It's not necessary, but it is nice. Related, people who stack lists within lists and don't use semicolons for the primary list. I swear I posted this before, but I can't find it (and I really should stop procrastinating).

Can you tell I've been editing a lot lately?

I should get back to work. I'm meeting a friend for cake and coffee around 2pm so I can escape the (not relentless but still irritating) drilling and banging that's coming from our cellar. We're having it tanked, so there are workmen there, not ghosts. At least I'm not aware of any ghosts.

RIP Roger Ebert

A man who has inspired me in more ways than you would initially think. He reviewed (most) movies as fairly as possible, recognizing that they should be reviewed on their own merits, not on the preferences of the reviewer. He could value an action movie for being an action movie, not a drama or Oscar-bait.

He was also a consummate writer. His movie reviews are worth reading for not just the value of knowing if a movie is worth seeing, but also for the beauty of his wordcraft. He could be sentimental, funny, snarky, sweet, or harsh, but he always did it with well-styled words. To be able to write like Ebert is the highest goal a reviewer (of any topic) could strive for. I read his personal blog for the same reason.

You will be missed, Roger, and my heart goes out to your loved ones. May you and Gene keep two thumbs up in the Great Beyond.

Titanium Solstice: 28,613 Words

I think submitting a manuscript and synopsis to a publisher is quite possibly the scariest thing I've done in my life.  Given that I'm terrified of, well, everything, that's saying something.  I've packed up and moved halfway around the world--twice--applied to and attended various university programs, and faced down scorpions, black widows, and spiders so huge that I'd rather face the scorpions and black widows.

But I've never before submitted something I've written to a publisher.  I am actually published, but it's by a peer-reviewed journal.  That's not to say that the bar is lower, but it is different, and usually less competitive.  Everyone wants to write fiction, not so many people want to write about Deluzian philosophy (including me).

As for the title, I'm certainly amenable to changing it should the publisher select my story but have reservations about the title.  It's gone through many incarnations, the most recent being Draft 4 (it was easier to keep track of the versions that way, since the title was changing between drafts).  Suggestions from the peanut gallery had included Solstice Under Steel (which went away when the material of the dome changed from steel to titanium), When Harry Met Solstice, Gone with the Solstice (which became a working title),  A Solstice and a Gentlemen, Whitsuntide Wankers (that would be Dad's favorite, and it has no bearing on the story itself), Solstice Surprise, Winter Wonderland?, Domed Solstice, and probably a variety of other suggestions.  Needless to say, titles are not my strong point, and I'm always open to suggestions.  It is, however, a bit late for this submission.

My fingers are crossed.  While I really don't expect to be selected, I can't deny that I'm hoping to be surprised.  At the very least, I'm hoping for some feedback.  I'm also hoping that I didn't screw up any part of the submission process.  I had the bright idea--yesterday--to read the details of the submission process, which meant yesterday and today consisted of throwing together a query letter and a synopsis.  Then formatting had to be done, and it's really hard to format RTF, perhaps because the point of RTF is that there is minimal formatting so it can cross-platform.

Still, I have accomplished one of my goals with my writing.  I have submitted my work to a publisher for consideration.  The next goal?  Finish my damn novel, which got sidetracked by this process.

Finished

The short story is finished, as of about 1am Friday morning (I needed to be able to print a draft on Friday). It is by no means done, but it's finished.  Without opening the document to check--I'm distancing myself from it until Monday afternoon--I believe it clocked in at just over 27k words, with the submission requirement being between 18-35k words.  That's around 42ish printed A4 single-spaced, Ariel 12 point pages for those that can't grasp word counts.*  The word count will most likely fluctuate wildly as I edit, but being square in the middle of the range means it can do that without concern.  It has a beginning, a middle, and an end, or at least enough to work with.  After I finish the first round of intense editing, I'll have a few people read it and confirm that yes, it is a complete story.  They can then tear it apart for a second round of editing.

And yes, all this has to happen in less than a month.

*Can you tell that I'm more than a little tired of answering the very arbitrary "how many pages is that?" question?  As I've stated before, you can adjust page numbers hugely by changing the font, font size, spacing, margins, physical page size, and probably several other factors.  If you scroll down quite a ways in this long post, it has the word count of several popular books.

Success!

Only a very minor triumph (story still not done, sadly, but it's outlined out and is probably 2/3 to 3/4 done), but I found it last night in Elizabeth Peters' Night Train to Memphis.  The character I was seeking in the previous post is Aunt Norris from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park.  At this point it isn't much use to me beyond the academic, but it's always nice to get that type of niggling thing out of your head.

Yay!

Long day of writing tomorrow, and again on Tuesday.  I figure I've still got about 10k words left, and I've been writing about 1.2k a day, but I'm going to try and push it and see if I can't get it done by Tuesday.  That's really ambitious, and pretty unlikely, but I shall try nevertheless.  And it might not take 10k more words to finish it off, which would be fine as well.  Then lots of editing and restructuring and reading of submissions guidelines and having a few others read it for me and more editing and polishing and futzing and freaking out until it's submitting.  Eek!

Also, thank you so much Claudia for both giving me the heads-up on this open call, and also for confirming that my search wasn't in Borrower of the Night.  If you ever want to read any other E.P. books, I have every Vicky Bliss, Amelia Peabody, Jacqueline Kirby, and several other one-offs (but not all) for your perusal :)

Crap that I've researched today

"Who always has a room open because she never invites anyone to stay literature" (Google; No success on this one--if you know the literary character, please let me know.  I thought it was Miss Havisham, but I don't think it is now.  I'm reading Elizabeth Peters novels to find the answer for it, which is nice, but time consuming.  It wasn't in Trojan Gold like I thought, so time to try Night Train to Memphis.  I know it's in a Vicky Bliss novel, but I think the reference might be to a Dickens or Austen novel.)

"What are skyscrapers built out of" (Google)

"Plexiglass" (Wikipedia) --> "Polycarbonate" (Wikipedia)

"How to dig a hole"  (Google)

"Does ash add to soil fertility"  (Google)

Yes, this is in fact all research for my short story.  If I have to look up more weird crap in the course of writing tonight, I'll let you know.

Neglectful

I have been neglectful.  I haven't had anything major going on, just not much to write about.  I can't do anything about my visa until March, our TV works despite the strange noises it makes from time to time (so far as we can tell, it's condensation), and I got the nurse/doctor to let me go a year between appointments for birth control (except that the prescription I was given isn't going to last 12 months if I extend my cycles, which I do--still, it's longer than 6 months).  I am still unemployed, and I am still writing, and still frustrated that this isn't coming easily.  One good day of writing should mean many good days of writing, dammit!  But it does not, and deadlines draw ever closer, inexorably increasing my worries, fears, and frustrations.  Don't get me wrong; I don't expect this story to be published, but I need to submit it.  I need to do this for myself, to prove that I have been doing something, not just sitting around on my ass pretending to do something.  And I need to submit something that isn't rough, but rather something that, if not perfectly polished, at least resembles decent, coherent, and edited prose.

The only other happenings in my life are not mine, and not mine to share, though they have been shared on Facebook (by the parents).  The generic version is that a friend's newborn is not well, and we're all worried.  Not the best way to start off parenthood, or life, and we're all praying (yes, even me) that things improve, and there are no lasting effects.

There are so many things I should be doing.  I should be applying for jobs (I do from time to time, along with about 79,000 others).  I should be exercising more (I'm trying; my weight is too high, and I think it's adding to my back problems), and I should be eating less crap.  I should be writing more.  I should be doing more with Girl Museum (currently preparing for a conference that two of us are attending at the end of February).  I should be communicating more with my friends.  I should be writing more here.

But I'm not.  I'm striving to change some of these behaviours, but they won't all change at once, and there are only so many hours in a day, so they can't all happen all the time anyway.  But I'm trying.

Frustrations

So I'm not eligible for citizenship this year, it seems.  I'm less than thrilled about this; I swear they changed the rules on me, but I can't find any proof of that being the case.  As they post all immigration rule changes on the Home Office website, and I've read through all of them back to 2009, I'm thinking maybe I misunderstood.  Either way, I'm still angry because instead of being able to apply for citizenship and be done with this malarkey, I have to spend another £550 for another visa (settlement/indefinite leave to remain) and I still have to take the stupid "Life in the UK" test, which is another £50, plus £10 for the book.  Like the US citizenship test, no citizen of the country could actually pass it.  Argh.

In addition, I'm still angry at the various neighbors and the noises they produce, but despite that, Adam and I will be signing our Lewisham Road lease for another year.  Our landlord was over today, repainting part of the bathroom for us since we have mildew in places, and it was missing paint over the shower.  I don't think the color matches, but honestly, I really don't care right now.  It still looks better.

Also, our TV is half broken.  Last we looked the picture was ok, but it makes a horrific static/buzzing/hissing sound.  It's not easily described, but it's quite loud, doesn't seem to be coming from the speakers, and we're worried it will burn the house down (some of the possible problems do include fire, according to the ever-trustworthy internet).  So the search for a TV repairman continues, as the number Adam was given is disconnected, and the other number is missing a digit.  Luckily, our aforementioned landlord's father-in-law is a TV repairman, so hopefully Landlord will text me his phone number this evening (it wasn't in his phone).  This is doubly sad because while I was able to finish the first series of Downton Abbey (which is completely awesome, by the way), I just got all seven seasons of Deep Space 9, and without a functioning TV I can't watch them, unless I either a) use Adam's computer or b) grab the little TV from the bedroom and hook it up.  It's a good little TV for a bedroom (except we can't plug it in because there are no outlets on that side of the room), but it's not real good for DVDs or gaming--or really anything that decides to letterbox the screen.  I watched Lord of the Rings on it, and--I kid you not--the picture was only about 3 inches tall.  Also, it hated my PS2 cable, and when we played Lego Star Wars on it, the picture was green.  So all in all it was a very good day when Steve of Titanic Mill gave us his old TV, and then apologized to us that it was so crap.  We love it, and think/hope it just needs to be cleaned to be as good as new.

Otherwise, writing went really well yesterday.  The plot is spinning off in a direction I didn't anticipate, which is ok, since I was hoping something would develop in the way of a plot, but now I have to figure out this particular direction.  I created a "bad guy" with a more-than-usual nefarious plan, that the hero feels obligated to stop, but I don't know what said bad guy's nefarious plan is.  Still, any semblance of a plotline is good because even a vague idea is something I can flesh out, and more than I had before.  So that's finally starting to chug along.  Which is extra good, since the deadline is March.

I'm also going to a conference in York at the end of February, which will hopefully be interesting and very good for both Girl Museum and me professionally.  If all goes well, I'll be presenting with another Girl Museum intern, and she seems extra nice because apparently I can crash at her place instead of shelling out for a room.  Adam thinks I should still get a hotel room, but since he's not coming with me, I'd rather not spend the money since I'm not making any of it.  Besides, it's only for one night, so it's unlikely to be too horrific.  And if it is, well, it's only for one night, and I lived with my freshman roomate for a year at PLU (trust me, it was tough, and not just because I'm a bitch who can't share).  Perhaps someday I should share those stories.  I probably won't, since they're not flattering at all to someone who had pretty severe mental and emotional (and physical) issues, but some are probably funny in hindsight.  About 13 years on, I don't find most of them particularly funny, just sad and hurtful.

90 Degrees

I've abruptly turned 90 degrees in my writing.  I've broken through the issues I was having with my novel, and that was starting to move forward again, which I was pleased with--though I can't deny feeling more than a little silly in hoping that I'd have a draft done by the time I got to the states, or maybe the new year.  Yeah, not gonna happen, unless massive inspiration strikes and I get on a roll.  To be fair, I was hoping that would happen, not expecting.

But the main reason it's been put on hold is that a friend of mine was a dear and posted a call for submissions on her blog.  It's for Carina Press, which is the digital imprint of Harlequin.  They do in fact publish more than just romance--in fact, they'll publish most things, as long as it's not young adult, women's literature, poetry, non-fiction, or literary fiction (and possibly a couple of others).  Added bonus: Carina Press is also open submission and doesn't require an agent.

This call is specific, and asking for science fiction holiday stories for their 2012 holiday collection (not explicitly xmas, just holiday).  The deadline is mid-March, which I can make pretty easily, provided I can learn to write science fiction before then--the science fiction needs to be a central element, not just wedged in.  I can read science fiction and I like it well enough, but so far all my plot ideas have been stolen from Star Wars, Star Trek/Gene Roddenberry, Luc Besson, Robert Heinlein, Joss Whedon, and a few other random sources.  Being married to an astrophysicist isn't helpful here (though as Claudia says, at least my hard science won't be wrong).  The good news is that I think I've found a plot line of sorts.  The bad news is that I don't know what to do with it or how to make it science fictiony.  I'm thinking robots.*  We'll see.

*No, not really.  I hope.

Because it is Thursday

Because it is Thursday, and Mom and Barbara go out on Thursdays (and apparently talk about my blog from time to time, which makes me think that hobbies need to be found--not that I don't appreciate the readership, because I do), I need to post something.  I have a whole bunch of posts stored in my head for the food blog--though I'm forgetting how to make the curried carrot soup, so perhaps that's one post less--but I'm rather lacking in worthwhile content here on this lil ol' blog.

Depending on your perspective, there's either nothing to report or lots to report.  Three weeks from tomorrow we'll be in Nottingham for the weekend, at what might possibly be the coolest beer festival ever. We went last year for the first time, and it was awesome to max, and we're meeting up with friends from Leicester again this year (same friends, even.  Perhaps our only friends.).  This year, however, we're more prepared.  Not only are we going for two nights--because you can't sample 900+ ales and ciders in only one night--but this time we're going prepared.  Camping chairs for the festival, since seats and tables are not provided, Tylenol/paracetamol for the head, multi-vitamins to prevent the crushing weakness brought on by alcohol purging all vitamins and minerals from the body, and "magic juice" which apparently prevents vomiting.  Water nearly made The Boy hork--in Sainsbury's, no less, while I was trying to find a sandwich--but Copella Apple Juice made him semi-human again.  I'm also insisting upon some V-8, which has a different set of nutrients in it.  We'll even bring some food to supplement the pork pies and other food at the festival, though we're planning on eating at Olde Trip (under the Castle, where the festival is) and I'd like to try the pub that's across from the entrance to the Castle grounds, which I believe is a Castle Rock Brewery pub.

Eight weeks from Sunday we'll be on a plane to the states.  Eight weeks from Saturday we'll be on a train to the super-posh Radisson-Blu hotel in Manchester airport, because I didn't think about trains when I booked our flights.  My logic was "hey, it's the same price to fly Sunday as it is to fly Monday, so we get an extra day for free!"  Except trains don't start running on Sundays much before 9am, and our flight leaves Manchester at 9am, so that doesn't really work.  Oops.  But still, a nice way to ease us into our holiday.  And no faffing about with cabs or hotel shuttles, because there's literally an entrance to the hotel *in* the airport.  Badass, that is.  Also, we've stayed their before, and the fear of bedbugs or getting raped/robbed is minimal.  In our advancing years, The Boy and I seem to be afraid of new hotels, especially if they're cheap.

Beyond our future travels, I've applied for a few jobs, made about 2 gallons of soup in varying flavors (broccoli cheddar, curried carrot, parsnip Parmesan, and chicken and dumplings), randomly made a half-batch of chocolate chip cookies last night (note: a half batch makes way faster than a full batch, but far fewer than half the amount of cookies.  I did eat a bunch of dough, and saved some for The Boy, so that may account for part of the problem).  I have a weird variant of writer's block, in that I know where and what and how, but I need the words to get them there (trans: I hate and suck at writing prophecy.  I also hate the notion of prophecy, which is not lessening my problems.).

I also bought this:

I named it Roger.

For reference purposes, the white bit is nearly as long as my arm, and I can't actually wrap my hand around it and have my fingers touch.

On Storytelling

In case you somehow missed it, I love to read.  I love stories.  I love the way a good author can craft a tale in a way that will draw me in and compel me to continue reading, either because the quest is interesting (usually not, actually, if you want to closely examine pretty much any story), or more likely because of the impact the journey has on the protagonist.  The best stories are about characters and how they react to events and grow throughout the quest.  Essentially, everything else is a MacGuffin.  Now I'm not saying that the quest/journey/plot isn't interesting and important, because it is, but it's how it affects the character that is most interesting.  A well-crafted mystery can achieve both; you want to know how and why _____ happened, and there should be some sort of impact on the characters.  A less-well crafted mystery will have you less interested in the characters, but still curious about the how and why (pulp fiction is a good example--hard-boiled dicks are all basically the same, but the mystery might still be good).  And conversely, a mystery that's purely character driven can be a bit dull as well; you did want a mystery to puzzle over, didn't you?  Even so, if only half of a mystery novel is well-crafted, then it's still a fun read.

A prime example of a rather crappy plot but a character that grows is actually the rather trashy Anita Blake series.  The plots are all really quite similar, and fairly forgettable, but the characters grow over time.  Anita, especially, but all the characters exhibit change in relation to their surroundings and events.  Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels are interesting in the fact that the world itself is effectively a character.  It grows and changes in response to the characters who populate it, and it's one of the few constants throughout his novels--yes, Death appears in every Discworld novel, and the Night Watch, Witches, Lord Ventinari, and others appear regularly, but the true star of the novels is the world itself.  I don't like some of the plots or their main characters (Thief of Time), but I love the effect that the characters have on the world; Going Postal, for example, introduced a mail system, and The Colour of Magic introduced the concept of insurance (and the idea of burning down your building for money).  These ideas grow throughout the novels they're introduced in, as well as subsequent novels.  Pratchett's world is anything but static, and it's the most fascinating part of his novels.

But still, it all comes down to characters.  And that, my friends, is why I think the medium of TV is wonderfully suited for storytelling.  Mom and Dad don't watch a lot of TV, unless you count baseball in the summer and football in the fall/winter, but they do tend to watch shows on USA Network.  Conveniently, USA's slogan is "Characters Welcome."  And if you look at every single show they put out, they are character driven.  Monk.  Yes, there are weekly mysteries, and many of them were excellent (and a few were crap, but for 8 seasons, there was probably less than a full season total of bad, or even mediocre episodes).  But the real reason to watch Monk was to watch Adrian Monk cope--or not--with the loss of Trudy, with the loss of his badge, and with his crippling OCD and 312 different phobias.  Monk could have been designed as a novel or series of novels (and there are spin-off novels), but to truly bring Monk to life, to be successful in making him believable, Monk needed Tony Shaloub.  Tony Shaloub managed to make Monk human.  Seriously flawed, and with comedic touches, but human.  Monk is believable as a human being.  I think the real humanity would be hard to portray in a novel.  The expressions that flash across his face, and the struggle he goes through to touch or try to not touch things would be far too wordy in a novel, but necessary to humanize him.  Without them, Monk is a caricature; but with them, in written form, the reader will be continuously yanked out of the story by the details of Monk's compulsions.  With an actor behind the OCD and the phobias, however, Monk was praised by people who suffer from excessive OCD as being real, as being an example of what they actually suffer through, while still being funny at times, but not mocking or hurtful.

USA has done something else with their characters now.  I didn't think about it this way until Mom said it, but on Suits, they've created a character who I viewed as the lead (even though he gets second billing), but Mom views as the MacGuffin.  Mike is someone we actually care about, someone who reacts to, and grows and changes in response to external stimuli.  But I think Mom is right; Mike's job is to act as a MacGuffin for Harvey.  Now, I think you could argue that many characters serve as MacGuffin's for many other characters: in Burn Notice, the burn notice itself is a MacGuffin, but this season so was Max--or at least his death.  In literature, Lord Voldemort is far more MacGuffin than character.  In the Harry Potter books, he rarely ever acts as a character, even when he's there (and mostly he's not--he's discussed and feared, but rarely do we see him in person).  He is the reason for the quest.  He also happens to be a character, and not even a completely one-dimensional one, but mostly, he's the MacGuffin.

But why do I think TV is such a great medium for storytelling?  Well, in a good, scripted TV show (not "reality," which is also scripted, and certainly not real, but isn't designed to tell a story), you have the same necessary elements as you have for a book.  You're writing a story, so you need the same things.  You need a plot/journey/quest/raison d'être, you need a protagonist and usually some other characters, and you need the characters to emotionally grow and change in response to the quest that's been put upon them (theoretically, this is optional, but trust me, it's not).  But once you put the words into the mouths of actors, you get something else--real depth of humanity.  People you really care about.

I care about Anita Blake, and I care about Harry Potter, but Monk was real to me.  Alicia on The Good Wife is absolutely real to me.  She would be an excellent character in a novel, but Julianna Margulies adds life to Alicia, by being able to show all those little things that can be hard to put into words.  Conversely, it can be hard to translate some things to screen--the depth and richness of Tolkien's world is one, though Peter Jackson did a credible job overall, and I have no notion how you could reasonably translate the magic of Cooper's King of Shadows to the screen.  But where TV has, at least in my mind, the advantage over movies, is that it's serialized.  It's broken down into chapters.  We may satisfactorily wrap up one week, and another week we may be left with a cliffhanger (Lost, it got old after a time).  But you always know there's more.  In a movie, theoretically, that's it.  In reality, there will probably be at least one sequel, and probably more, but it's supposed to be done, finis.  Like a novel, you may want to visit it again, but TV, like a novel, keeps you driving forward because there's always a next chapter.  Until there's not, but networks have started to not do that to fans as often now, in part to avoid another "Nuts" incident, I would bet.  TV is an extended novel, one that has convenient stopping points, but another chapter if you want there to be.  And if not, you can stop at any point.

Girls, diets, books, authors, and responsibility.

Something I will very rarely do, but this is a cross-posting from the Girl Museum Blog.

Let me preface this by saying that I am a writer myself, and I don't believe in censorship, but in the freedom to write what you wish.  Writers write for many reasons: because we're obsessed with it, because we want fame and notoriety, because we need a paycheck.  Every writer has their own reason.  And in this age of blogs and other forms of self-publishing, it's not that difficult to get your work out there (and even make some money or a name for yourself), even if none of the big publishing houses choose to pick up your work.  But Paul Kramer did get picked up by a publishing house, and it's caused quite a stir.

Kramer wrote Maggie Goes on a Diet, which is about a 14 year old "chubby" girl who is constantly being teased and bullied by her classmates for being overweight.  To try and make herself feel better, she raids the refrigerator, but ultimately goes on a diet and starts exercising.  As she becomes thin, she also becomes popular, and the star of the soccer team.  Maggie Goes on a Diet will be released in mid-October.

I believe that writers--as well as anyone else--have the right to say what they want.  However--to quote from Aaron Sorkin's screenplay, The American President

You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest.

In short, true freedom of speech means that not only do you have the right to say what you wish, but you also must allow others the right to say what they wish.  This includes their right to criticise your work.

When I write these blog posts, I try very hard to present a balanced viewpoint.  I try to see all sides of the argument, and present multiple sides; I know that very few issues are actually black and white.  To use the previous post (written by Junior Girl Miriam Musco), "Poledancing for fitness" as an example, I can absolutely see why people are outraged.  For better or for worse, pole dancing has become linked with strippers and sex, and we don't want to associate that with young girls.  On the other hand, though, it doesn't have to be associated with stripping/sex, but if I think that it is, I assume you think it is, and so  I assume everyone associates it, and everyone does.  Now they think that a girl who pole dances is a slut/stripper/tease/prostitute/daughter of irresponsible parents, because of the bandwagon effect that society has.  I think pole dancing can be an excellent fitness routine, and fun.  I think it's completely fine that girls be allowed to try it, but I also think that perhaps a) the studio shouldn't have posted pictures of the girls and b) maybe now is the time for the parents of those girls to explain why society thinks girls learning to pole dance is inappropriate.  And hey, maybe some minds can even be changed in the process.

I don't think controversy that surrounds Maggie Goes on a Diet is any different.  There is a good message in the book: eating healthy and getting exercise helps build self-esteem.  But it seems to be lost behind the message that if you're a girl,  being fat is bad because it makes you unpopular, while being thin makes you popular.  I think that girls should be encouraged to eat healthy and get exercise--I think all of society should be encouraged to do that!  But I can't sit back and watch a middle-aged man (who's a little "chubby" himself) essentially tell girls that fatties aren't cool.  Girls are so prone to eating disorders at his targeted reading age (grade and middle school), and it doesn't take much to push them over the edge, potentially causing life-long self-esteem, health, and body issues.  Additionally, there are some thoughts that restrictive pre-pubescent dieting can restrict normal growth.  But parents are responsible for teaching and setting healthy diets and activities for overall well-being, not for popularity's sake.

I won't argue that writers have a responsibility to society.  At best it's a disingenuous argument, and at worst, censorship gets involved.  While those in the limelight, be they politicians, actors, writers, or the generic "celebrity," are scrutinized, and often held to a higher standard simply because they're famous, I don't think it's fair.  I'd like to see everyone set a better example, and I'd love it if those in the limelight did adhere to the highest possible standards, but it's not going to happen.  Part of the peril of fame is that people scrutinize and criticize your actions.  And when unhealthy messages are being sent to the most vulnerable among us, I think we have every right to stand up and say something.

For a video about Paul Kramer's Maggie Goes on a Diet, which includes some of the text (which, as a writer, I think is hokey and not very good, but that's a different issue), click here.

-Katie Weidmann

Junior Girl

Girl Museum Inc.

Bits-O-News

Better than Bit-O-Honey.  Yuck.

First, I'm going to be an aunt.  Since I've never had an aunt, and my only uncle died when I was seven, I have no idea what this entails.  Come March, I guess I'll learn.  What it won't entail is diaper changing or babysitting, at least until such age as the child does not need diapers (and then it may still be debatable).  I say this because they tried to get me to hold another baby (seven weeks) on Sunday, and I ran for the hills.  Adam held him, however.  Twice.  Complained that the child was heavy.  The kid is under 14 pounds and is only seven weeks old.  Clearly Adam is just going to be a joy with a toddler.

Second, I am now published.  No, I have not suddenly finished my novel, sold it, and got it on the shelves--in fact, it's been about two weeks since I've even written because I was prepping for last week's interview most of the past two weeks (writing resumes today)--but the article I wrote with other members of Girl Museum over a year ago is finally online.  I'm thrilled that I'm legitimately published (yes, online journals are in fact legitimate nowadays), but more than a little peeved that it's taken so long for this to come out.  I completed the re-edit of it back in April, and they only gave us a few weeks then, so I want to know why it didn't come out until August.  Oh well.  Still, published is published, so now I have to find room for it on my CV.  If you care (trust me, you don't) the issue of "Rhizomes 22: Becoming-Girl" can be found here.  Our article is entitled BECOMING-GIRL-MUSEUM, and since I don't feel like linking twice, you can read down the table of contents to find it.  A word of warning, however: it's written from a Deleuzian philosophical standpoint.  If you don't understand what that means, don't worry.  We the authors were a bit lost as well (hence part of the need of the massive re-edit I did back in April).

Not really much else.  Mom and Dad are off to Portland (or there already, I think) for a couple of nights, and Barbara is a rockstar and house/dog-sitting.  Aven is apparently excited because that means he can play with Faith.  Faith is learning to warm-up to men faster now (she still takes some time), and Aven is a sweetie and wants to play with her, so I'm hoping he can run a couple of pounds off of her--provided he can get her to chase the ball or frisbee more than twice before she buggers off to go lay down.  If he can, that puts him head-and-shoulders above the rest of us.  If not, I hope he enjoys tromping across the yard to retrieve the ball/frisbee himself (or I suppose he can leave it there for later, which I've been known to do).

Come to think of it, I'm slightly worried as to the state of my bedroom if there are guests there (even old family friends such as Barbara and Aven).  The heavy coating of dust worries me less--since we don't live there keeping it dust free is not my responsibility--than whatever mess may or may not have been left there from last Thanksgiving.  Or whatever mess was placed there by not-me.  Hmm...yes, it's cramped, since there's still half-a-house's worth of furniture in there, but I worry about the clutter.  Enh.  I suppose the sheer amount of hippos will distract, as well as impress, amuse, or terrify, depending on individual temperament.

I shall leave you with this article to peruse, should you so desire.  It so perfectly sums up why I hate Sean Penn.  "Sean Penn Can’t Understand Why Terrence Malick Didn’t Let Him ACT! More"

Interview woes

Not actually woes, this time, or at least not as such.  I thought I had a great interview, with none of my usual obnoxious anxiety attacks that result in my starting to cry at inappropriate times (as in at any point in the interview).  Praise His Noodly Appendage for Xanax.  It may have been expired (and generic), but it worked nevertheless.

Sadly, I did not get the job.  I've asked for feedback, in part because I want to apply for another job there, and in part to try and land a job somewhere in the future if not there.  Without the feedback, my current guess is that my not being local to York was the biggest factor.  If two people are equal, the one who doesn't have to commute an hour plus to get there (and deal with the vagaries of public transit in a country prone to half-assed strikeage) is a better choice.

Though I didn't get the job, at least I got an interview, and I felt I did fairly well.  I was confident, and I knew what I wanted to say.  I even had questions to ask at the end!  So hopefully I'll be given some helpful feedback, and hopefully I'll be more successful with the next application there (no, I am not disclosing the place, because, well, I'm applying there again and it strikes me as being inappropriate).

In the meantime, back to my writing.  I've taken most of the last two weeks off, either due to interview preparation--I had to give a 10 minute talk as well--being lazy, or not being home because I was yelling at Virgin Media about our dead phone line (and internet, which does actually work, though our phone doesn't, which is a whole new level of special) and the fact that they still hadn't paid us the money we're owed.  But back to the writing.  It was so easy to slip out of the habit, so I must work hard to slip back in.

Procrastination Irony

They say that writers are the best procrastinators on the planet.  Who says?  I think it was an author doing a guest blog for Powell's.  Or maybe the quote was that writers have elevated procrastination to an art from.  Either way, it certainly seems to be true.

There are always things that I've hated doing.  Applying for jobs is one of those things.  You can never just send the same thing out, and many places use application forms instead, and it's just a royal pain in general.  Plus, it's usually--for me at least--a futile effort, so it's hard to work up any enthusiasm for the amount of work that needs to be done for no reward.  And I do mean no reward, since some places don't even send out an acknowledgement of your application.

Doing the dishes is another thing I procrastinate doing.  Now it's never really been my thing, but most of my life I've had a dishwasher.  Then we moved into this dump (sorry Richard and Sarah, but it kinda is).  I mostly don't mind not having the dishwasher (too much), but we don't have a garbage disposal either (welcome to Europe) and that sucks, especially when you need to peel a dozen hard-boiled eggs for your partner's egg mayo sandwich filler for the week.  Picking the fragments of 12 eggshells out of the sink is a whole new form of torture.

I also procrastinate on exercise until it's too late to do it.  Or I hurt too much.  Or something.  My reading list often serves as an excellent excuse to avoid a lot of things, and exercise is high on that list (it's my small penis truck: I've read more than you have, so in some vague way I'm superior to you.  somehow).

But writing.  Ahh, that's the easiest one of all to avoid, because I do it on the computer, so I can get sidetracked by Kingdom of Loathing, or GemCraft (no link because you don't need that kind of torment in your life), or my blog (the irony here being that I'm avoiding writing by writing), or "research."  Research--and legitimate research, I might add--derailed my writing last night.  Talking to Kristan for over two hours certainly didn't help, but after we stopped, I still had time to crank out my required amount of words,* or close to it, before Adam came home.  Except I needed to do some research.

This was, as I've already stressed, real research.  Nothing big, nothing major, but I needed a first name that could be either German or Scandinavian.  Didn't matter which Scandinavian--any or all would be fine--but it had to be used in at least one of those countries as well as Germany, and preferably not be completely unheard of in English.  That wasn't too difficult; I found a website that lists not only every name ever used in a Scandinavian country ever, but it also listed frequency of usage by men and women per country.  I settled on Frieda--I had a "Teacher Frieda" when I was in kindergarten (she was a war bride originally from Germany, and was completely awesome), and depending on the spelling, it met all my requirements nicely.

The bigger problem was finding a Scandinavian surname.  An uncommon one.  If I wanted a common one, I could have gone with Janssen or something (Scandinavian surnames are not rocket science, as they're mostly patronymic).  No, I needed an uncommon last name, because I needed a branch of a family tree that was presumed to have died out.  Unsurprisingly, finding uncommon names is far harder than finding common names.  And when you do find names considered to be uncommon, you have to question how uncommon they are, since you found them somewhere.  Sheesh.  Oh, and something that could be mistaken for German by someone who doesn't much know about language (or even someone who does), yeah, that'd be good too.  Eventually, I found a name, futzed with the spelling (Germanicized it off the transliterated pronunciation guide provided with my chosen name), and called it good.

Too bad all that took me about 40 minutes.  Still, I went out to meet Adam--an interesting feat these days, as the towpath along the canal is pitch black at 10:10pm--and managed to get myself to write even while he was home.  I usually start writing around 7 or 8pm, when I can't realistically justify putting it off any longer, and that gives me enough time to bang out about 1000 words.  They're not great, but right now, my goal is to get the bare bones, the framework of the story out there.  I can always go back and edit the everloving crap out of it (and I will do, many many times), but to edit you first need something to edit.

And because people have asked me how long a book is, or how many pages I've written, and so on, I shall provide a list of wordcounts for comparisons.  Authors and publishers think in terms of wordcount, not pages, because you can format a book to make it as many or few pages as you like.  That said, when you ask the internet how to format a book for publication and what publishers ask for, you'll get a million different responses, including the notion that authors think in pagecount, and only want estimated word counts with the assumption that the formatting is 250 words per page (this seems to be wildly outdated, however).

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: 76,944 (as provided by Scholastic Inc.)

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: 257,045 (as provided by Scholastic Inc.)

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Approximately 144,000 (as posted on someone's blog)

The Hobbit: 95,022 (off of a blog that discusses word count, particularly for beginning writers)

Twilight:  118,501 (same blog)

War and Peace:  561, 304 (same blog)

That said, I'm not sure how accurate wordcounts are, because both OpenOffice and Word don't seem to count words with dashes attached to them, and that may go for other punctuation as well.  I haven't fully explored this, but as I use a lot of dashes in my writing, it has reduced my wordcount somewhat.  Right now, I don't worry about that, though.**  My only concern is keeping the finished (read: ready for submission) product to 100k or less.  More than that, and it's going to be a tough sell.  And since I figure I'm at best 1/3 of the way finished (probably closer to 1/4), I'm a bit iffy on the word count.  Here's hoping all my editing will cut stuff down.

I've written just shy of 24k words, or 33.5 pages of single-spaced, left/right justified, 12 point, Ariel font, on US standard letter (8.5in x 11in), with .79 inch margins all the way around.  I use Ariel because I prefer sans-serif fonts*** (I'm lazy on this blog, so it's the default serif font Times), 12 point because that's standard, US letter because I think that may be the default setting for OpenOffice, and I think the .79 inch margins came from a previous formatting thing--OO seems to use previous settings for new docs (which may also be why the page format is US letter and not A-4).  I keep it single spaced because when you need to scroll through a long document, double spacing is a royal pain, and it's justified (aligned) on both sides because I think left-side only is ugly.  I will reformat drastically when it comes time to submit.

*It's now 1000 per day, because 500 was way too easy and the story wasn't progressing, because I can write 500 words describing a blank wall if I don't know where I'm going and don't want to think.  I had to write more yesterday though, because I didn't write on Monday.  I made up most of it on Tuesday with 1700 words, meaning I only needed 300 extra yesterday.  I hit my mark, too.  Eventually.

**Most British universities work off of wordcount as well--I had to write 4000 word papers at Leicester, and my Master's dissertation (thesis in the US, but long-ass paper anywhere) had to be between 12k and 15k.

***  Thank you Wikipedia for clearly and concisely showing the difference.

Seeking support

So I just got another rejection letter today for a job (hey, at least this place sent them out--another place I applied for hasn't bothered).  If I could at least score an interview, that'd be a nice change.  Anyways, courtesy of some of the previous rejections, I decided to get serious about this writing lark.  I've got over 10k words so far (over 11k, actually, but extensive editing hasn't happened), and it actually seems to be flowing decently well.  Not amazing, but I've been writing a bare minimum of 500 words a day (Stephen King writes at least 2000 a day, but he's insane), so things have been coming along.  Bit nervous, as I'm about to embark on the next bit of plot and action in the next couple of days, but once I get into it, I think that'll go ok as well.

Because I've gotten serious about this whole deal, I've set up an Authonomy account.  Basically, Authonomy is a site set up by the publisher Harper-Collins to encourage and support unpublished or self-published authors.  Or any writers, really.  It's completely free, and great in the sense that other writers and readers can read your work (you must upload at least 10,000 words) and comment on and critique it.  Each month, the top five submissions to the site (as scored by a rather complicated system that takes into account not just how many people, but also who likes your work) are actually reviewed by Harper-Collins editors, who may then choose to publish your novel.  Additionally, Harper-Collins does not hold any "first-option" rights.  The only license you grant them by submitting your novel to the site is for them to display it.  They keep no copies of manuscripts from uploads, so if you remove your work (which you can do at any time), it's gone.  And lastly, any publisher, should they decide to visit Authonomy, can make you an offer.  All in all, it's a great chance, for criticism if nothing else.

If you'd like to support me, head over to Authonomy, create an account, and start a presence there--the more you review and comment, the more your recommendations count (if you're recommending books that lots of others are, get chosen, etc.  Read the FAQs, because it's complicated).  There are lots of cool things to read by aspiring authors looking for a shot at being published.  Even though I've got over the 10k words required to submit right now, it'll be another couple of months before I'm ready to upload anything, between editing and possibly abridging the novel a bit to get more action in without submitting half the book.  Still, there are other neat things to read, and it's a chance to help others (and myself) with their work by providing comments and support.  And like I said, the more you review and recommend, the more your opinion counts down the road, so if you start now, it could help me out more eventually.

Attack of the Zombie Spider

So there was another spider inicident the other day.  I've encountered several more (both before and after the "towel incident," documented here), but this one was, once again, the size of my head.*  Kristan actually asked me--while shrieking with (justified) laughter--if it wasn't actually someone's pet tarantula that escaped and I murdered, but it wasn't.  Wolf spider, I"m fairly certain.  Adam saw this other one as well, since he was home, so I have proof of not being crazy, or at least of not lying about its size.  I grabbed the kettle and turned on the tap to fill it so I could make tea, when suddenly there was a brown fuzzy thing scrabbling at the edge of the sink, trying to get away from the water.  I turned off the water--no idea how, probably as a matter of self defence since the spider was now extra determined to escape its prison since it was now flooding--set/dropped the kettle on the counter, and screamed.  Actually, I'm fairly certain I screamed first, and continued throughout my other actions.  Adam came to my rescue from the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his waist.  He saw the spider, said "oh, I thought it was something important," and went to finish his ablutions.  Then he grabbed a glass, a flyer from our ISP, and asked me to open the door so he could release it back into the wild, where it is now probably terrorizing the neighbors.  Which is fine, as long it's not terrorizing me.

Otherwise, the parental units have been and gone.  They seemed to have a nice time; I hope so, as we had a nice time with them (drinking, eating, playing Settlers).  Beyond that, I've applied for a job that I haven't heard back from yet, which blows because it's right around the corner from us.  Seriously, it's probably a 35 second walk (or less, but I'm taking into account locking the door and setting the alarm code).  I'll have to contact them again shortly and ask what the status is, because I think I'd like this job.  At the very least it's an income that doesn't involve me making sandwiches.

I'm also working on editing a paper that some of us from Girl Museum submitted for last summer, and we just heard back about.  They accepted it, but with major revisions.  Because none of us understood the philosophy involved (it's for a Deleuzian publication), it was a bit sketchy, and our format didn't really work.  Since everyone else is employed, and mostly because I didn't say no, the job of editing fell to me.  It's hard work, but I'm actually really enjoying it, and I also seem to better understand what Deleuze and Guattari were talking about.  I think they were mostly full of crap, but at least I better understand it now.  I still have about 3/4 of the paper left (and a whole bunch of citations to find and insert), but the shape seems to be pretty solid now, and the flow will be better, with far less repetition.  My goal is to finish the second section today.  Since I think I'm only going to be combining the work of two authors there, it--crossed fingers--won't be too horrible.  As I learned on Saturday (with one primary author and about 2 paragraphs from my section plus the additions I had to write in), if you were to plot number of authors on one axis and time on the other, you'll get an exponential curve.

Lastly, there are two weddings this week.  First is the royal wedding on Friday.  And--along with laughing about the spider--Kristan may have mocked me for knowing when the date was, but I challenge you to live in the UK and not know.  Or to spend any time on Yahoo's homepage looking at their "news" articles (I read the Yahoo US site, by the way, not the Yahoo UK site, so you can't blame it on that).  And then on Saturday my brother in law is getting married, which should be a good time.  People keep asking me what I'm wearing, and then announce that I should wear my wedding dress.  No, I will not wear my wedding dress to someone else's wedding, that's just tacky, even if my dress didn't look like a wedding dress.  In short, I don't know, because I acquired a plague on my left arm from sitting in the sun (can't determine if it's a heat rash or a slight sun allergy, but I also can't be bothered to see a doctor since it's not debilitating, just itchy and ugly).  Should be healed by Saturday though, so hopefully that won't affect my wardrobe choice.  Still, I can't understand why people care what I'm wearing to a wedding that isn't mine and I'm not a member of the wedding party.

Now that I've procrastinated enough, back to editing, since I also have to make pasta dough, pasta sauce, and brownies.  And possibly a potato tart for tomorrow.

*Actually, I think this one was a tiny bit smaller than the first one, but not much.  But then, when you find a giant spider in your towel, one that isn't so actively threatening your life won't seem quite as large.  Either way, still huge.  Adam was impressed by its size as well.