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| Wednesday, May 16th, 2012 |
csecooney
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7:48p |
The Year of Jemisin and Baker
I have read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. This is what I would have said about it a week ago, before I gobbled it up in a single day over at the Info Booth at work where nothing much was happening except me giving directions to the penguins or the bathrooms: "Oh, just stop telling me how good it is and raving and recommending already! GAH!" (This does not reflect well on me. What is it? Jealousy? Inadequacy? Fear of being disappointed?) But back to the ravers. Do you know what happens when too many people tell me how much I must do something? I avoid doing it. I avoid it sullenly, guiltily, with this creepy little backstabby rebellious feeling that hurts no one but myself. Some part of me says, "I do not WANT to like what you like, so leave me alone!" This happened, ha ha, with the music of S.J. Tucker. EVERYBODY and their MAMA loved the Sooj Machine, and assured me it was JUST up your alley, Claire, no honestly, you'll ADORE her... So I, yes, I just... refused... to listen... to her. At all. ...And then was totally CONVERTED one day when there was this awesome music playing in a car I happened to be riding in and I was like, "Oh, this is pretty SWELL PANTS; who's this?" And was told, perhaps smugly, "This is S.J. Tucker," and it was ALL OVER FROM THERE. But back to me avoiding the things that obviously I should be reading, because everyone tells me I ought, and everyone's USUALLY right, seeing as that "everyone" is usually comprised of my dearest friends and colleagues. And some part of me knows this. This part of me always listens. And bides. And plots. And the minute that ornery freak of "No Want To!" in my nature gets bored and wanders off, this impulsive, sunny-faced, voracious thing pounces and says, "NOW IT IS MINE AT LAST!" So I've heard great things, over the last few years, about One Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. I heard - and believed - how I would like it. And then I stubbornly refused to do anything about it. Why? Why do I do this to myself? Why, when it's SO BRILLIANT AND IT TASTES LIKE A NOVEL-SIZED VERSION OF THAT NERUDA POEM I LIKE AND... AND... SLURP!!! Excuse me. I mean. It's just that... I guess that's why I ask people to tell me WHY they like a book. Because if they tell me why, and I can see the glow in their eyes, and they talk about the characters as if they were dear friends, and the plot as if it were vital, as if it were happening, then I totally get into it. Then I want to read it. Some people hate that; they find it spoilery. But me, it just makes me hungry. It's when people just gush about its goodness and then assure me that I will fawn, that's when I go all weirdo. Why I liked this book: I guess I like heroines who go tough and with dignity into a situation so out of their control that staying alive isn't even an option. It's choosing how to make your sacrifice meaningful. How to make your death matter most. High stakes. In this way, Yeine Darr is a bit like Katniss Everdeen. (If you hate The Hunger Games, forgive the comparison; it does not mean you'll hate this book. I thoroughly enjoyed both, in fact, which tells you about my taste. Though I didn't read The Hunger Games until a whole horde of 8th Grade Girls yelled at me for not doing so. Forces To Be Reckoned With. I wish I could yell at all of them to READ ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND KINGDOMS, DANG IT! Perhaps I will get to do so in the future.) It has these heart-deep observations that just SCORE ME. My favorite, for example, is this: "Still... I could not help drinking in the view. It is important to appreciate beauty, even when it is evil." There. Do you see? There. Right there. Think about it. This is a thought that preys on me. The appreciation of beauty, of power, of richness - even when it is evil. Even when it is poisonous. Because... Because we can't help it? Because we should take in what we can of it, while we can, because life is so brief? Because... what? I don't know. I have to think about it some more. It reminded me of that wonderful moment in the film Gladiator, when Juba says, seeing the Coliseum for the first time, "I didn't know men could build such things." And there was awe there, for the things we build, even when we build a place to go and die in. So you've got a young woman - a mortal woman - facing a possible death sentence disguised as the highest honor in the world. You've got gods who are bound as slaves. You've got humans with more power than they can hold. And every road ends in death. So what's a girl to do? You make allies. You make a plan. You seduce a VERY VERY SEXY AND DANGEROUS NIGHTLORD in very sexy ways and YUM!!! And you die well... Or not. I guess you'll have to read it and see. *** To add to all this delicious Jemisin (I am now reading The Broken Kingdoms, which Amal says she likes better, and which I like very much, but not, I fear, better), I have discovered Kage Baker. Kage Baker, Kage Baker, Kage Baker. WHERE HAS SHE BEEN ALL MY LIFE??? It's like discovering Shirley Jackson and Ursula LeGuin and Lois McMaster Bujold and Neil Gaiman all rolled into one -- except NOT, because it's KAGE BAKER!!! Gosh. So I read EMPRESS OF MARS. Which... Yes. Everyone. Read it. You know everything I just said before I typed that? Disregard it. I am a hyprocrite. I am recommending this lavishly, like (insert favorite spreadable food here) over (insert favorite bread/cracker/cake) on your birthday. WITH MARTIAN DIAMONDS ON TOP! No, really. Seriously. And when you're done with that, please read her book of short stories, "Mother Aegypt and Other Stories," but in PARTICULAR read "What the Tyger Told Her." Oh, and everything with Lord Ermenway. Oh, and "Nightmare Mountain." And the one about her father's eyes. And then, since you're already in love with Lord Ermenway, the pretentious little demonspawned fop, go on and read Baker's novel ANVIL OF THE WORLD. And then, yes, then you may come back here and THANK ME! I accept tributes of flowers and jewels. You're welcome. *** |
matociquala
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6:14p |
half angel. half eagle. one eye on the world.
The first volume of Shadow Unit is now available as a proper paper book with a gorgeous Kyle Cassidy cover. It will be available through Amazon within a week, and will slowly filter its way through the rest of the online distribution system.  This volume contains the first half of Season 1. Volume 2 should be available in about a month, with other volumes to follow. And of course, Shadow Unit in its entirety is available for free online, and as a modestly priced ebook through the usual sources. The story began in 2007, and will end in 2013. It's not too late to discover one of the coolest collaborative serials in the genre internets! Current Mood:  chipper |
nihilistic_kid
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2:26p |
Anthony Giangregorio—beware, for real!
Remember the other day, when new writer Mandy DeGeit found her story substantially rewritten, with errors introduced, by a small press editor/publisher Anthony Giangregorio, who proceeded to act very unprofessionally when DeGeit complained about the added bestiality and outrageous introduced copy errors (e.g., the story is now called "She Make's Me Smile")? Well, another writer, Alyn Day also came forward to describe a story she had placed with Giangregorio being substantially rewritten and retitled without her permission or even awareness.And apparently, Giangregorio is upset enough about these revelations to invite himself over to Day's house. A Facebook screencap-you'll see that the conversation begins last year, and was updated 22 hours ago:  Is there a way to read this as something other than a threat against Day-especially as Giangregorio had previously told DeGeit that he would only communicate through lawyers? I tend to think not. Please spread the word. |
ysabetwordsmith
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3:21p |
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nihilistic_kid
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11:50a |
(Character) Class and The Game of Life
John Scalzi has a good post comparing life to a video game, in which being a straight white male (SWM) is akin to playing a video game on the "Easy" setting. Being of color, queer, a woman, etc. is like playing on a harder setting. There are many many other variables of course, including class, which he touches on by writing "If you start with 25 points, and your dump stat is wealth, well, then you may be kind of screwed." I think this is both a factual and rhetorical error, and that class should be fully integrated into Difficulty as opposed to stats, to make the analogy more apt. (For those who don't know, a "dump stat" is the stat where you only put the minimum of points. It's not like you're "dumping" extra points into that stat, but that you dump your lowest score into it.) The error, I think, can be seen in the comments to the post—and all the usual disclaimers about reading the comments on any Internet posting apply here, double. Two of the recurring themes are as follows: 1. SWMs complaining that their low class/socio-economic status/wealth means that their lives aren't so privileged after all. 2. SWMs who appear to be better off who a) want to know why they should act against their own interests by critiquing their advantages regardless of the origins of those advantages, and b) like expressing their ownership of and stake in the system built by previous generations of SWMs, and distaste for all those awful black African Jewish lesbians in wheelchairs who want to take over. So, we have a group that feels it doesn't have a stake in the system, and is feeling the harshness of competition, and a group pleased with the rules of the system as they stand scoffing at the activities of their social inferiors. Clearly, there's a significant break in SWMdom, and it's along class lines. This plays out in the real world in several ways that demonstrate to me that class is fundamental and thus part of "difficulty setting" in Real Life: Dragons of the Murderdome, or whatever you want to call it. Back in the 1970s, Albert Szymanski studied income and race and found that, of course, black workers made less than white workers. However, he also found an interesting regional difference—white workers in the American south made less than black workers in the American north. While the white workers in the south made more than their black co-workers in the south, they were underpaid compared to both blacks and whites in the north. So, while whites were better off in a region of greater racism and thus greater race privilege for being white, most of them would benefit along with black workers in a region with greater equality. White privilege was paying white workers an extra dollar to keep from having to pay both white workers an extra five dollars and black workers an extra three dollars. (Clearly, we've not yet gotten any numbers from a truly equal society with no race privilege.) What explained the difference? The north had integrated labor unions; the south, thanks to segregation, had many fewer labor unions (and those that existed were less powerful). Basically, white workers did not benefit substantially from racial discrimination, not even relative to blacks in another area with less explicit racist laws and social policies. Greater benefits would have accrued had they fought against their privilege, and in solidarity with black workers. Victor Perlo has found similar dynamics existing even today, a generation after the end of Jim Crow laws. Sure, plenty of SWMs did benefit—managers, the highest tier of (almost invariably white) workers, factory and mine owners, people who play the stock market, etc. And sure, there is an important "psychological wage" white workers are paid— at least we're not black!, but psychology is even easier to print and inflate than fiat money. And yes, poor whites are less likely to have to deal with police harassment and the like. But they both get it worse in an environment where police are allowed to run rampant as a tool of keeping neighborhoods segregated and the property of landowners and businesses safe. Basically, the greater the race discrimination, the higher the inequality among whites. There are similar analyses that have been done as regards gender discrimination, discrimination against gays, etc. It's not a cookie-cutter sort of thing—queer issues often have to do with the "nature" of the family itself and the need to protect certain kinds of families and eliminate other forms of families, for example—but in general there are lots and lots of SWMs that don't benefit materially from racism, or sexism, or homophobia, or national chauvinism, etc. Of course, many white people, regardless of their own class "stat", accept racist ideas. Their perceived interests and their actual interests are two different things. Some confusion emerges when SWMs for whom racism (or sexism, or anti-queer sentiment, etc.) is beneficial declare themselves spokespeople for all the poor put-upon SWMs are who are the outrageous victims of Affirmative Action, or too many black ladies with dreadlocks being cast as wisecracking judges on TV, or women who won't have sex with the "beta males." And when discussions of intersectionality and oppression take class as a secondary issue*, the rhetorical floor is ceded to people with a material and ideological interest in racism, etc. to recruit the rest of SWMdom. Low-SES/working class/poor SWMs end up siding with billionaires who make the correct-seeming noises about "liberal elites" and competition from blacks and women and gays. But when class is fully integrated into an understanding of the difficulty setting of the Game of Life, I think the arguments get much clearer. The question: "I'm a poor white guy; should I fight against systems of privilege?" The answer: "Because you'll benefit from it. The more equal things are, the better off you are." For rich white guys who ask the same question, well, they're clearly on the other side, so they don't need an answer. *Class actually is complicated when it comes to intersectionality. Very few people believe that the best solution to sexism is the elimination of men, or that the best solution to racism is the elimination of whites. And yet, many people do believe that the best solution to class division is the elimination of the bourgeois class. And yet, when so many theorists of intersectionality are themselves bourgeois aspirants with privileges of their own to protect... |
mount_oregano
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1:50p |
Go Ahead — Rewrite This Story
Rewriting isn't evil, although it can feel that way. No one gets it right the first time. When you revise, watch out for: Starting in the wrong place. Ending in the wrong place. Scenes that should be moved around. Unnecessary characters or scenes. Missing scenes. Missing motives. Adverbs, adjectives, and weak verbs. Weak conflicts. Slow pacing. Few sensory details. Inconsistent or wrong point of view. Wooden dialogue. Wooden characters. Clichés. Unvarying sentences. The wrong title. No final meaning. In other words, everything is up for grabs, and repeated rewriting will make you an evil genius. If you need an idea, here's a few: • This is a story about a space cruiser company president who goes to court to fight charges that his "employee services" program providing for their personal needs has devolved into virtual slavery. • This is a rather literary alternate history novelette set in 1493 shortly after it becomes clear to the royal court of Spain that Admiral Christopher Columbus and his ships will never return. • This is a humorous horror story about a house sold with the advice that its ghost is placated by attractive artwork, but the new owner's taste turns out to be awful. — Sue Burke Current Mood:  full of ideas |
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someposifeed
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11:42a |
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ysabetwordsmith
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2:21a |
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ysabetwordsmith
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2:13a |
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| Tuesday, May 15th, 2012 |
ysabetwordsmith
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11:13p |
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nihilistic_kid
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5:06p |
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ysabetwordsmith
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5:45p |
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ysabetwordsmith
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4:40p |
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matociquala
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4:54p |
our prayers are always answered. that miracles can happen.
I just had one of those labor-saving strokes of genius that I need to share with the world. Which is to say, the easiest method ever in the history of popovers. Here is my basic popover recipe: 2 tablespoons solid fat (butter or animal fat (duck fat, mmm) or solid shortening) 3 large eggs, at room temperature 1 cup (250 ml) whole milk, at room temperature 1 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 teaspoons sugar 1 cup (140 g) all purpose or white whole wheat flour 1 tablespoon vital wheat gluten This tactic assumes you own a wand blender and a wide-mouthed quart Mason jar and a microwave. If not, just make the popovers the way you normally would--or if you are missing the wand blender but have a normal blender, you can melt the butter in a different container and use the normal blender. About an hour or two before dinner, take your Mason jar. Put the butter/whatever in it. Put it in the microwave and melt it. (If you are making Yorkshire pud and are waiting for the roast to be finished before you add the fat, skip this step for now, and stir the fat in before you bake the popovers.) Add the milk, eggs, salt, and sugar to the butter in the Mason jar (or blender)(or just put them in the blender if you are adding the fat later). Do not put the eggs directly into the hot butter before diluting it with the milk. Otherwise you will have scrambled eggs, which are nice, but not popovers. Whiz them all up with the wand blender. Add the flour and the wheat gluten. Whiz that too, until you have a nice smooth batter. Let the batter sit on the counter until dinner is nearly ready. If you are roasting something at 400 degrees, you're good; otherwise preheat your oven to 400 (F). (200 C) Liberally grease 9 cups of a 12-cup muffin tin, or if you are making Yorkshire pud, drizzle a little of the fat from the roast into the bottom of the cups. If you have one of the giant-sized six muffin muffin tins, then you will have bigger popovers and they need to bake a little longer. Using silicon cups for this results in popovers without stumps or a lot of loft, as they just levitate themselves out of the super-slick cups entirely. They still taste good! If you are using fat from the roast you're making, add it now and stir it in. Divide the popover batter between the nine greased cups. You can just pour it from the blender or the Mason Jar. Stick in oven. Do not peek! If you open the door before they are set, they won't rise properly. Bake for 35 minutes or until deep mahogany brown. Pull pan from oven. Tilt popovers in cups, or remove them to a rack or basket. Pierce each one with a bamboo skewer. (careful of the steam!) The purpose of these two procedures is to (a) prevent them from getting soggy and (b) prevent them from collapsing. Eat. However you meant to eat them. Do not plan on leftovers. Wash your one. dirty. dish. Oh, and the wand blender, sure. And the muffin tin. But that was inevitable.
ETA: Nota Bene
For even more loft in your popovers, preheat the muffin tin with the grease in it in the 400-degree oven for a few minutes before pouring the batter in. This is a bit tricky, though, and can be skipped. Current Mood:  i'm a fucking genius |
ysabetwordsmith
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3:20p |
Read "Fishhooks and Memories"
You can now read my poem " Fishhooks and Memories" over on Torn World. (This is a sequel to my short story " Without Fail" so start there if you haven't already read it.) License Master Alaaffi returns to his work, somewhat changed by his vacation to Tifijimi. If you like this poem and want to see more like it, please consider sending me credits or karma through Torn World's crowdfunding options. Not a Torn World member, but still want to support the work? I have a permanent PayPal button on my LJ profile page. Current Mood:  busy |
nihilistic_kid
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8:40a |
Buy me! THE FUTURE IS JAPANESE out today.
Today is the official release date for The Future is Japanese, an anthology I co-edited with Masumi Washington for Team Rocket! It sure looks neat, see?  It's the first Haikasoru title with original content by both Japanese and non-Japanese writers. That is to say some of the stories are appearing in translation before they appear in Japanese. Plus, we have new stories from Bruce Sterling, Catherynne Valente, Pat Cadigan, David Moles, Ken Liu, Ekaterina Sedia, Rachel Swirsky, and the triumphant return of Felicity Savage! Our Japanese authors include Hideyuki Kikuchi ( Vampire Hunter D!), Project Itoh (PKD-award citation winner for Harmony), Issui Ogawa (of the Haikasoru books The Last Continent and The Lord of the Sands of Time), Toh EnJoe (whose collection we're releasing soon), and TOBI Hirotaka, whose story I think has serious award potential. You should buy this book. Partially because I want to do another one. Partially because it's awesome and has a cute cover with an actual Asian person on it. And if you are a bit short this month, you can enter my latest giveaway contest on the future of the short story. We're giving away four copies and will hip anywhere in the world, so get to it. |
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someposifeed
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1:37p |
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mylefteye
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11:21a |
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ysabetwordsmith
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2:37a |
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ysabetwordsmith
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2:31a |
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leahbobet
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1:06a |
Less quantifiable things.
May 14, 2012 Progress Notes:On Roadstead FarmThis is less a formal issuance of metrics than a post to say that today I did not so much write words as perform some serious overhaul revising on the words I already have, and so work happened, but I didn't really count it up. I don't know if I'm up or down words, really, because I wasn't paying attention. But yes. Work happened. (Yes, this is mostly a work diary for me. So I know where I've been, and what I was thinking when I was there.)
So, here's a thing: I was going to write a post to say that tonight I went to my first hot yoga class, * where I learned that hot yoga does not mess around and got my ass handed to me so hard it probably came with a giant novelty cheque and a press conference. But either that and the resultant post-workout happy place, or the good music coming through my headphones as I walked up to King Street, or the sweet, quiet, breezy warm night weather put me straight into my best peaceful happy place, and I ended up walking 5km home afterward just 'cause the air smelled so good outside, so flowers-and-green, and I wanted to. So. I'm already feeling that particular combination: the tingly sort of pre-soreness you get when you know tomorrow is going to be The Asskicking Strikes Back. I think I'm going to take to my bed and stay there like some sort of Austenian mother character, and wail piteously until someone brings me tea and laptops. (I am so going back for another class on Thursday.) But, the thing: I started writing that stuff, about my yoga class and my gleeful pending suffering, ** and stopped to go look for an appropriate tag to stick on the post. *** And I have a tag for climbing, when I was climbing, and a tag for bellydance, which will hopefully get dusted off inside the next month or so depending on what my budget does. But the only tag I had that was remotely close to a thing about general bodily stuff says stupid fucking meatpuppet. I...kind of recoiled. I've had this LJ for nine years now. Stuff accumulates; it silts, and sticks around in the corners. So I remember when I made that tag, and why I used it so often, once. It was the tag for all the things my body did that betrayed me, and that I hated: anxiety attacks, depression, blood sugar ridiculousness, sinus infections, illness, injury, general drama. I am realizing there were years where my main relationship with my body was that it betrayed me. It really was this evil, recalcitrant suit the real me had to wear. I did not like it. It wasn't me. I am a little appalled right now at how much I hated myself, and how casually. # A friend of long standing said something last week (while very kindly talking me up from a pretty justifiable blue funk) that's been kicking around my head just about constantly since: that she and another mutual friend consider me stabler, and better at being good to myself than a lot of the rest of that circle, because I seek out little joys -- her words. Because things like the smell of the air in Trinity Bellwoods Park tonight, or the right song kicking up to the right rhythm of my feet, are really genuinely enough to make me happy. ****She's right. I've been thinking about that nonstop because it's true: It's so easy for a thing to turn my head these days. It's so easy to let the way the light falls through a white-and-red tulip petal nudge breakup gloom or worry about other people or worry about my own life right out of my head. Because I don't want to be unhappy. The world's so big and bright, and I'm just not all that interested in my own hurt anymore. It's boring and it wastes my time. I am realizing: Holy shit. I'm stable, and sane. I have no idea how I got here, or when, but it must be true. Because I have written evidence of that girl who despised herself so offhandedly and thoroughly, and I don't even remember what it was like to be her anymore. I still don't think of myself as stable or sane. My base assumption about myself is that I'm a volatile substance which requires self-monitoring and compensation for the daily little wobbles. Maybe how I think about myself ought to change. Huh. *Whole revolutions in my health, fitness, and appearance are going to go down for no better reason than that I started actually buying stuff off Groupon this spring. There's very little I won't try if it's only $20. I can't decide if this is awesome or a terrible indictment of my character.**I don't like pain, but I like accomplishment just fine.***You should see my filing system.****Also carrot cake. I made a carrot cake last night. S'good. Current Mood:  surprised |
| Monday, May 14th, 2012 |
beerdiablo
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10:48p |
Maintaining An Old Master
My favorite Phillip K.Dick story is The Last of the Masters. Having worked
with “ancient” machines, I understand the odd attachment [pun intended]. Maybe it's desperation.
The software and processes are sound, the hardware is ancient but you stay with
what you know, unaware of where to migrate to or afraid of change.
Many hobby groups around the world maintain old systems for fun and museums.
At times, they rescue machines and here's a story of such a rescue of
an IBM 1401 system [in Texas no less]. They'll get the machines/parts eventually.
What struck me me is that aside from a possibly dying machine/old process is that
the business was stuck in time, the people running it were older and clinging to old ways.
Kind of cool, kind of sad. Current Mood:  thoughtful |
ysabetwordsmith
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10:03p |
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csecooney
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9:23p |
MOMENT OF CHANGE Anthology
Look how beautiful the cover is! And look at that TOC. How wonderful to be a part of this. How I want that cover hanging on my wall!!! Originally posted by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=91.6) sovay at We seek out change to dream ourselves into the worldThis is the post about The Moment of Change: An Anthology of Feminist Speculative Poetry, edited by Rose Lemberg, which is now available from Aqueduct Press. Contributors include Ursula K. Le Guin, Shweta Narayan, Theodora Goss, Amal El-Mohtar, J.C. Runolfson, Lawrence Schimel, Cassandra Phillips-Sears, Catherynne M. Valente, Rachel Manija Brown, JoSelle Vanderhooft, Athena Andreadis, Adrienne J. Odasso, Phyllis Gotlieb, Greer Gilman, Jo Walton, Samantha Henderson, Jeannelle Ferreira, Yoon Ha Lee, Sofia Samatar, April Grant, Nisi Shawl, and a great many other poets speaking in all their own (and sometimes multiple) voices. Two of my poems are among them, "Matlacihuatl's Gift" and "Madonna of the Cave." I won't be at Wiscon for the reading, but I am honored to have been part of this project and very pleased it is out in the world. Go and see; read and change.  |
idyll
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8:17p |
woo to the hoo
x. Had a scare this past Friday with the occupancy report from the boro our house is in, but the seller is taking care of all items, so yay. x. Got official word today that our mortgage is finalized and approved, so we're ready for closing in 4 days. x. Am packing. Sort of. x. ...I have 30K words of Teen Wolf future fic that I'm not sure anyone but me wants to read, and I AM OKAY WITH THAT BECAUSE IT IS MY HAPPY PLACE DESPITE THE ANGST (also, it's kind of a funny place, too). x. Tonight's packing agenda: my office, ugh. I'mma use the UFYH 20/10 methodology. This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. Read the Dreamwidth comments at: http://idyll.dreamwidth.org/620525.html#comments. |
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