Lilith Saintcrow's Blog, page 160

Trying To Do Better

So there I was last night, winding down after a long day by playing a Balance druid (I chose Resto as my second spec so I could do heals in dungeons, that’ll be a nice learning curve for me) in Outland. Side note: Anyone else notice how every new WoW continent, no matter how high-level, eventually develops a zone known for Barrens chat?

ANYWAY. There I was, hanging out, occasionally tuning in to guild chat, when all of a sudden it happened, as it usually does. One of the guildies made a misogynistic joke. Normally I just put whatever asshole does so on ignore, but I actually liked this guild.

So I spoke up. Not cute, not funny, cut it out.

Of course, the usual “I was just joking” and “it’s only offensive if you’re too sensitive” came up. Since I’d already said something and I had reached my daily tolerance level for bullshit, I typed back. It is offensive, and it’s inappropriate in guild chat. There’s trade and Barrens chat for that sort of stuff, not here.

By that point I was already planning my exit from that particular guild, even though I liked it a lot. Speaking up in MMORPGs can get you harassed unmercifully, never a pleasant thing to begin with. It was as simple as typing /gquit, but I was in the middle of killing a bunch of arrakoa (another side note: Ysera’s Gift is pretty fucking awesome if you’re a Balance druid, you can survive multiples piling on you quite handily) and I didn’t have a free hand to type with.

I’m glad I didn’t, because something happened.

One of the guild officers whispered me to apologize, and to make sure I felt comfortable staying in the guild. He also thanked me for speaking up and helping to keep guild chat from becoming a sewer.

Not only that, but the other person–the one who had cracked the misogynistic joke–backed off. I suspect, though I don’t know, that he had whispered the officer and got told to cut out the bullshit.

I’ve been playing WoW for years at this point, since before Burning Crusade even–I remember when you didn’t even get a slow mount until effing 40, for God’s sake–and been in and out of several guilds. This is the first time I’ve ever seen this sort of situation resolve with an apology and people acting like adults. The guild officer, while a little rough around the edges, apologized for his own “LMAO” at the joke, and also said something very striking.

That was my old self, and I’m trying to do better.

Which just outright floored me. I’m used to the abuse, the harassment, the casual misogyny, the rape jokes, the nastiness. I guild-hop and toon-hop when it becomes overwhelming, stop playing for a while, and go back when I can handle being in an environment that bears a suspicious resemblance to a sandblaster if you’re female. What I’m not used to is collusion in making at least one corner of the gaming world a place it’s inappropriate to flood with bigoted jackassery.

I’m trying to do better.

Those five little words, and the attendant actions, kept me in the guild, and will keep me in the game a little longer. I’m sure the original teller of the joke was sore about it, given how he kept trying to bait me afterward until the officer told him to find something useful to do.

I want to repeat that this is literally, absolutely, the first time that I’ve seen speaking up about this in an online gaming environment hasn’t ended with verbal abuse or worse. I’m not sure how much of it was just stars aligning and how much is the fact that women gamers are speaking up in greater numbers, often at tremendous cost.

Either way, I’m okay with it, and if that guild officer ever comes across this I just want to say: thank you. Thank you very much. If you’re trying to be a better person, dude, it’s working.

Your Frenemy, Fear

Piano lessons proceed apace. I like practice better than lessons, not because my teacher’s bad–quite the opposite, he’s very patient and gentle. No, I am terrified of lessons because they’re like performances, and each time I go in I hear various nasty things screamed at Childhood Lili:

* You’re not musical, you’re a joke!

* This is a waste of time, you can’t learn this!

* You’re wasting money on lessons for something artsy!

* Your teacher’s going to laugh at you!

* EVERYONE’S going to laugh at you!

The struggle for me is not the actual learning or the practicing. I enjoy both, I like practicing alone at home. I love doing scales after dinner with a glass of wine. Instead, the struggle is to go back, week after week, and deal with the terror of quasi-performing, and to fight the deep irrational suspicion that not only am I unteachable, but I’m also wasting someone’s time by not knowing what the hell I’m doing. I’m afraid of blanking out when I go in, even though I’ve practiced there’s this fear of not being able to play anything, of vaporlocking and having my brain turn to oatmeal.

My teacher has assured me that this is sort of normal, and that he can tell I’ve been practicing, and that I’m at least teachable. So that’s nice. I’m sure it’s an exotic experience to have me wide-eyed and set on stun every week.

The Little Prince and Princess both love their lessons. The Princess’s teacher told her it was a joy to have a student who actually practiced, and the Prince’s teacher makes funny faces with him all through the lesson. So they eagerly await their weekly half-hour, while I start to feel the mounting dread a couple days before.

Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in enduring this sort of thing, especially when you can begin to wear the terror down. I’m not going to stop the lessons, mostly because I want to learn but also because doing so will require paperwork and LO I LOATHE PAPERWORK OMG YOU JUST DON’T KNOW. The stubbornness I’ve built up over my entire life is proving useful once again. (Publishing is a great way to either go mad with despair or teach yourself absolute stubborn persistence. See also: deciding very young to survive in an inimical environment.)

So I do my practice and live with the dread. Sooner or later the fear will break, I’ll get used to going into lessons, and I’ll feel ridiculous for sweating and shaking and nervously making sure I have an escape route. Fear may be ungodly-huge and shapechanger-crafty, but I have an advantage: quitting isn’t an option.

Just like writing. (You knew I was going to make that comparison sooner or later, right?)

There are so many different times to be afraid during the process of writing a book/poem/short story. Start counting ‘em and you’ll get tired of counting before you’ve even scratched the surface. There’s fear of finishing a crappy piece of work, fear of never finishing, fear of never getting published, fear of rejection, fear of your contract being dropped, fear of critics, fear that you won’t be able to write anything new, fear of this, fear of that. (See? Got tired before I even really got started.) It’s a rollercoaster of terror, different each time so you can never really brace yourself all the way.

My solution, other than just sheer idiot endurance, is to use the fear. To think of it as a spur, pushing me to do it anyway. A challenge, a dare. A way to get interesting scars I can build tattoos around, so to speak. A way to prove to myself that I’m not a coward–or at least, not as big a coward as I suspect I might be in my dark hours. It’s also a frenemy you can depend on. Fear is reliable. It keeps coming back, just like hope and disappointment. You can’t shake it. Feel it, get down inside it and look at its guts, pet it and stroke it and breathe in its rank breath. Scratch it behind its ears and croon who’s a good beast? Listen to it purr and slaver.

Running away will just tire you out. Better to turn around, so at least you’re facing it, and draw your line in the sand. There you are, and you can decide all the hosts of Heaven or Hell shall not move me.

First your fear will look more terrifying than ever. Then, as it draws closer, it shrinks. What is seen can be named, and if you can name it, you can work magic on it. Oh, this is my fear of rejection. Motherfucker’s just going to make me work better and submit more. This one’s my fear of critics laughing at me. Well, Amazon reviews haven’t killed me yet, so I might as well ignore them. Oh, this is my fear of failure. Shit, I’ve failed numerous times and am still kicking, failure isn’t that bad. Oh, there’s my fear of dying penniless in a garret, right next to my fear of the color yellow and the invisible dust-snakes under my bed. Fuck them, I’m going to do this anyway.

Of course, there are the perfectly reasonable fears that keep us from doing stupid shit. But it’s impossible to tell them apart from the silly or knee-jerk or frenemy fears if you’re not looking. Get to know your fear–and this also helps you write better, because knowing fear inside-out helps you make characters your readers can identify with. Everyone is afraid, on some level.

And with that, I’m going to go start dreading my next piano lesson. Right after I finish this scene…

photo by:


hillary the mammal

School Daze

It’s finally happened.

The Little Prince has decided he doesn’t like school.

Oh, he has a crush on his teacher, and he has a best friend and a couple other friends he wouldn’t mind seeing every weekday. He likes the adults there. It’s the other kids he’s frustrated with, especially the ones who misbehave frequently. The Prince’s orderly little soul writhes within him when classmates make Disappointing Behavioral Choices. I try to tell him that he’s going to see disappointing behavioral choices around him all his life (and even commit a few himself) but it still gives rise to a tangle of complicated feelings for him. He wants people to feel good and cooperate, he prizes consensus, and disruptive kids are his personal grit to be covered with nacre, I guess.

Of course, whenever we talk about this, I end up thinking well, Lili, guess where he got THIS from? I’m good at dealing with disruptive people, but not because I like it. Quite the opposite, I just learned how to deal so I could be done with them in the shortest possible time. The Little Prince’s frustration will no doubt bring him to other coping strategies, since mine don’t seem to work for him. I wish I could model something that would ease his irritation, but I’m all out of ideas.

It’s kind of sad–he used to love going to school, for his teachers and the sheer joy of finding stuff out. I don’t blame the teachers–overworked and underpaid, expected to effectively “parent” large groups of kids at a time with little support and much Monday-morning quarterbacking from the actual parents, it’s a wonder things aren’t worse. These are highly dedicated people, and it makes me sad that they aren’t paid well. Instead, we as a country waste our money on “defense” and corporate welfare. It’s maddening. It also doesn’t seem like it’s going to change anytime soon.

Of course the Little Prince’s sunny nature (which he emphatically did NOT get from me, we can all agree on THAT) predisposes him to think that sooner or later, even the most disruptive kids will calm down and get some work done.

Maybe he’ll end up a teacher…

photo by:


Alan Smythee

Jenny Anydots, Again

Jenny Anydots’s house in winter. Just as the most recent freeze was breaking up, but there was still ice everywhere and we had to go cautiously, Miss B and I. Anydots was probably out marketing, as fairies are wont to do, so there was no conversation, just Miss B nosing about thoroughly, stuffing her schnozz with new and exciting vapours.

SELENE Cover Reveal, and More

Some pretty grand news today: a Selene cover reveal up over at Mel’s “My World.” (You may have noticed the new banner up at the serial site.) The cover comes via Indigo Chick Designs, and I can’t recommend Skyla’s work enough. She also does editing and ebook/print formatting.

The Selene ebook and paperback are scheduled for release in January, and they will include both the prequel short story Brother’s Keeper AND the sequel Just Ask. There are other stories that take place between Just Ask and the events in the Dante Valentine series, but I haven’t told those yet. I likely will not for a while, due to time shortage. I am considering a Kickstarter or Indiegogo campaign to tell the story of Selene’s years as a mercenary and her return to stay with Nikolai, but I’m not sure there’s enough interest in the characters for me to raise enough cash to make it a viable project for me.

Speaking of which, the prize mailings for the SquirrelTerror campaign have hit an unexpected snag, but I do plan to get them out the door before the end of December.

Lastly, there may be some news on the Steelflower front. If things go well I may be able to take the financial hit involved in writing a sequel, which is, I’m sure, welcome news to fans. It will definitely be a liability, though, and it depends on a lot of other scheduling stuff that’s up in the air right now.

Today is for going through the revised draft of Kin and layering in small details in the new scenes. Also, as soon as it warms up above freezing, Miss B and I might attempt a run. Yesterday we went for a ramble and stuffed her nose with interesting new smells, but we both need a hard run to work all the fidgets out. I’m crossing my fingers that the weather report is accurate and that we’ll get somewhat of a melt today.

Onward into the breach, dear Readers…

photo by:


linh.ngan

Bonebreaking Inside

There’s a new chapter of Selene up today! Things are heating up in the story. I have the serial chapters all scheduled, including two in the week leading up to Yule. I am also testing a way for Readers to buy SquirrelTerror, Quill & Crow, and Selene ebooks through this site. Very exciting! Also involved is a new payment and checkout experience for editing packages, but that’s still in beta and needs OODLES more testing before it’s done.

I also have a Deadline Dames post due today, so that will be up later. I guess we’re taking some holiday time off. There are tons of back posts, however! Do check us out.

Since it’s so slippery outside (freezing fog! Black ice! No school!) taking Miss B on a run isn’t an option. Poor thing. She’s all but twitching; I may take her for a ramble later when it warms up. I’m going to resort to the treadmill in the garage, since I don’t want to break a bone or two outside. (I prefer all my bonebreaking to be inside, thank you.)

I should get on that and stop messing with landing pages and PayPal integration. Catch you in a bit, Readers.

photo by:


Augusto De Luca - Napoli

Kin Snippet

The hard revisions on Kin–Ruby’s story, the third Beauty & Madness book–are done. Tomorrow I layer in more detail in the all-new scenes. Right now, though, here’s a little snippet from the end:

Being scared and alone was worse than anything else, even a beast with empty eyes and scythe-claws. It was worse than the pinching, the bruising, it was worse than the certain knowledge of being a disappointment to everyone you loved.

Being scared together, though…that was different. It wasn’t incredibly better, but it wasn’t quite so awful. At least someone was in the boat with you, and you could make things better by comforting them.

I don’t remember writing that, so coming across it on this revision was…unexpected. And comforting.

Snow Day

They came through with trucks spraying deicer early this morning. Nevertheless, you can see where people slid getting out of their driveways, or lost control for a few seconds going down the hill. I’m glad I kept everyone home today–I have probably used up all my driving luck the past couple icy days.

The paper editions of The Quill & the Crow are now available through Amazon–hardback here and trade paper here. There’s a couple of auditions for the SquirrelTerror audiobook–you can go listen and vote for them, if you like. I’ve also opened up my Tumblr Ask page. If a particularly awesome question comes along, I might vlog it.

Of course, that’s dependent on how much time I have in a given week. The Princess and I were just talking about the subjectivity of time the other day. Dragging when you expect something, flying when you’re having fun. (Just like the Flying Spaghetti Monster!)

The dogs are both antsy today. Miss B hasn’t been run in days and she is expressing her dissatisfaction in any number of ways; Odd Trundles is taking a page from her book in between sleeping with his face pressed up against my office heater. He did that a lot when he was a puppy; I was worried he’d burn himself but it seems like he has an asbestos face. The little weirdo.

Things nobody ever tells you about revisions: the amount of resistance one feels to the edit letter is often in direct proportion to the edit letter’s accuracy in pointing out the flaws in your book; also, beating your head against the keyboard just makes a mess you have to clean up later. This concludes my daily PSA.

Off I go to head-butt the Qwerty some more…

photo by:


fdtate

Self-Pubbing Recommendations

It’s getting warmer! Only ten degrees below freezing. I know, I’m a delicate PNW mushroom, we’re not used to this sort of weather. It’s like when the temperature gets above seventy–to us, that’s damn warm. And they’re saying freezing rain tonight and tomorrow, which…joy. Last time we had freezing rain we were trapped in the house under a few inches of solid ice. I am NOT KIDDING. Solid. Ice. I couldn’t even get down the driveway without slipping four or five times and falling down. I was black and blue for weeks.

Anyway, revisions on Ruby proceed apace, and I’m almost ready to start in on November’s editing queue. Speaking of editing, I’m still running the NaNoWriMo deal. When you’re ready for line editing, copyediting, and proofreading, Brian White at Talkwordy can take care of you. If it’s a cover or regular editing you’re looking for, Skyla Dawn Cameron is AWESOME. She formats ebooks, too, and it’s her I turn to for my formatting ebook and cover needs.

Honestly, I should just start a collective with those two and offer one-stop self-publishing shopping, you know?

I have a couple auditions to listen to for the SquirrelTerror audiobook; if you’re interested in a royalty split, please submit one! I’ll leave auditions open until the end of this week.

And that’s about it, except for me braving the elements today to get more milk. Tomorrow’s forecast does not look good…

photo by:


martinteschner

Snow Day

Brrr. The door onto the deck was almost frosted shut this morning, again. *shivers* There’s a little snow, which doesn’t usually happen in these here parts. (This is a good thing–people start driving like idiots when there’s even a touch of the white stuff in the forecast.) The wind is up, and it carries eddies and swirls of white with it. Taking the kids to school is a slow patient process on days like this. It’s a dry, crunching snow, on dry roads, which is probably the best thing to have if one must drive in frozen precipitation.

The dogs don’t want to go outside, even to pee. You’d think they weren’t wearing fur coats, for God’s sake. I had to coax Odd Trundles down the stairs with a handful of kibble. Thankfully he trotted away into the wilds of the backyard to do his business.

My office is a complete gawdawful mess, but Ruby revisions can’t wait. I have her soundtrack playing–she goes from Delerium to Daft Punk to Pet Shop Boys, with a little INXS thrown in. I really should get those soundtrack pages together, so you guys can hear what I listen to when I write certain books. *is thoughtful* But that’s a project for another day. I’ve slid another scene into Ruby and am going through layering in more detail–I work fast and clean on the first draft, and am always told to add more, more, more. Which is okay, it’s probably better than being told to cut cut cut. Both are pretty painful, though. I feel like I’m adding wind resistance to a racecar, because the story is always so clear in my head, it feels unbearably slow to weight them down. Unfortunately, Readers can’t peer into my brainpan. (Wait, maybe that is fortunate. There’s weird stuff in there.) Anyway, off I go to bolt more details onto the story.

Stay warm out there, Readers.

photo by:


starshaped