Daley Downing's Blog, page 25

Let the Rebellion Begin!

Recently, I had an interesting experience.

I’d decided to join a “writers’ group” in my local area. (Note: I’m not anywhere in this post stating where that is at the moment, nor calling out any particular individuals. That’s not the point of this discussion).

Anyway, I gathered pretty quickly — after a couple of meetings — that the way this group had been operating was not really what I was looking for, nor how I understood the concept of a “writers’ group” to apply.

Each month, a theme would be assigned, and the group would, on their own, write something related to the theme, then they’d all meet up again. After everyone read what they’d brought, the conversation tended to go off into non-related tangents of memories, social issues, and eventually what the next month’s topic should be.

There was absolutely no feedback given on each piece regarding literary elements, tone/voice, characterization, setting, atmosphere, or plot. Of course, many of the pieces did not have a majority of these aspects, as we were all (bluntly) told that the group traditionally focused on autobiographical, non-fiction content (nothing more than journaling, really).

No one present (except for me) has a work-in-progress. I was also told (again, point blank) that sharing fiction with the group wasn’t really appropriate.

Excuse me? Isn’t this the whole idea of people who like to write gathering together for the purpose of writing? To explore, to learn more, to hone your skills in the craft?

I also noticed that others were interested in the exploring, the learning, the honing part, and that they appeared to be shut down by one, very vocal voice.

Ahem. Please pardon me while I clear my very fiery bookdragon throat.

So, here’s what I’ve done: I’m looking into starting my own group, which actually would focus on the craft of writing.

When you’re passionate about something as wonderfully varied and diverse as literature, that passion should not get shoved away by a pushy minority declaring what “fits” and what “doesn’t.”

It’s exactly why we have genres. If you want to write historical fiction, go for it! A contemporary romance, sure! Murder mysteries! Science fiction! Epic fantasy! Poetry! A collection of Post-It notes you left taped to your irresponsible teenage children’s foreheads! Sure, why not?!?! Whatever you want to write about, chances are, somebody out there will want to read it.

And why can’t we do this in a number of ways? Novels. Essays. Magazine articles. Poems. Novels of essays and articles. Blog posts. Fiction. Non-fiction. Combining the two. Fictionalizing real events in your life — with plenty of plot and dialogue and pithy puns.

The “rules” for what and how writers “should” write are treated very loosely these days, and I’m glad for it. We get to share so much with the world by expanding definitions and conditions.

Trying to box in people’s creativity just doesn’t work.

Experiencing this the other week really threw me.

And then I decided to do something about it.

This will probably turn out to be a big undertaking, and I’d appreciate your prayers! I’m honestly not sure what lies ahead as this venture gets underway, but I’m excited, and hopeful!

 

Knowing Your Roots

A couple of months ago, I was filling out some school forms for White Fang, and as I wrote down his last name, something that I should’ve known all along hit me like a ton of bricks: He’s part Jewish.

The realization should have come before he was even born (considering he has his father’s surname, and I always knew what that is). And I’ve been studying the origin of names since I was in college; as it’s a subject that, as a writer, I’ve always been interested in. Why do people choose the names they do for their children? How does their heritage and ethnic background affect this decision? When you’re trying to name characters, these factors are very important to consider if you want your fictional people to feel real. Selecting and assigning a name to someone is a big deal in pretty much every culture on the planet. So your fictional folks should recognize that and apply it, and your readers will very much relate to it.

Anyway, so here I am, it turns out, with a part-Jewish son. And I, the well-researched writer, was totally clueless. (Oops.)

When I told him my revelation, he looked at me and said, “You realize this changes nothing.” Because he wouldn’t call himself religious, definitely more spiritual, and doubting at that.

But I looked right back at him, and thought, My dear, it changes everything.

Being born Jewish does not simply determine your religion; it means you are part of a whole culture, a world history. It’s just the same as being born into any nation, any culture, anywhere. While religion is often an important part of this, it is not, by any stretch of the imagination, the end of the story.

Knowing your roots is necessary, to help you understand not just where you came from, in literal geographic terms, but also to help you learn more about yourself. While your personality and hobbies won’t be predestined, based solely on your DNA and ethnic lineage, we still need to know these things about ourselves.

Everything from food and clothing, industry and trade, art and architecture, varies depending on your culture. So much of all of that comes from your nation’s history. Knowing your roots should not be seen purely as a road map of where we’ve gone wrong; it needs to be the path towards grasping where your family started, and doing what, understanding how times were different and how across the ages we’ve changed, and how to craft a future that benefits us all without forcing us to forget, the bad or the good.

I tend not to do things by halves — so, I’ll admit that, yes, within minutes I was planning to cook only kosher for White Fang, buy him a Torah, enroll him in an online Hebrew class, measure his head for a yamaka, and arrange his pilgrimage to the Western Wall. Ahem. What? I got excited. But, he’s right — just knowing where his last name comes from doesn’t alter everything overnight.

And he is part Jewish. I need to remember that. The rest of his heritage is just as important.

In England, many Hebrew families intermarried with Christians from about the Middle Ages onwards. Considering that White Fang’s father told me his family was Church of England, my guess is this practice was so common, a lot of Brits alive today may not even be aware of their non-WASP genes. So, my son is as much British as he is Jewish — and that’s still, just as, cool.

From day one, I’ve made sure White Fang knows about his dual nationality, his combination heritage, and encouraged him to find the best of both. I want him to see the landscape for as broad as it is, to grow along with his increasing knowledge of the rich variety of lives that have been, that are, that may one day be in this world.

So, while he won’t be landing in Israel or attending a synagogue anytime soon, White Fang does have information he didn’t have before, that does make him more himself.

And while I have slight misgivings towards my validity as a researcher about just how long it took me to catch on, I am happy — for his sake, but honestly, for mine as well — that I finally did.

The Scandalous Post

How good am I at marketing? See, by this title alone, I have sucked you in. (Honestly, I spent more time thinking about what to call this post, than what was going in it, or which cat pics to use this time.)

So, now that I have you sitting down, here we go: Let’s talk about s-e-x. No, no, not like that! Not explicitly, graphically, or even inneundo-y. *Totally a word.* I’d like to discuss how much of it there is in modern media, and how it is damaging to our children.

See? No need to run away from me in droves. But, I will be rather frank about some things — hence the title. Sex is indeed a private, yes, intimate matter — however, there’s a vital difference between keeping the details of the “bedroom scenes” of your life under wraps, and not talking about the stuff we need to be talking about.

That stuff includes making sure our kids are well-informed about where babies come from, and all the down sides to what is meant to be a good thing.

As the mother of a teenage boy, I am aware that certain thoughts and feelings at his age are natural, and it is my job to inform, all the good and the bad, and encourage him to participate in this massively cool thing of waiting to become sexually intimate with another human being. Until he’s at least 30. Or married. Or I’m dead. Whichever comes first.

There are bunches of reasons for me to encourage my kids to wait. And while spiritual convictions are among them, that’s actually not near the top of my list. Right up there is all the terrible diseases they might catch — something which TV shows of the 21st century don’t seem concerned with mentioning, while they have all the characters sleeping with each other in every other episode.

Also, what happened to making the point of how hard it is to become a parent before you’re ready? And the fact that being promiscious does not make you feel better about yourself — it makes you feel worse. And that such behavior opens you up to the chances of something really awful taking place — yes, I mean non-consenting incidents, which are actually crimes, and it’s tragic that our society is only starting to really crack down on that.

I really want to see more episodes of TV shows (particularly programs aimed at the age 13-17 audience) include discussion on rape, peer pressure to have sex, choosing to abstain, the role alcohol and drugs can play in making a bad sexual decision, abortion, STDs, and birth control. And, yes, we can talk about all of this in frank terms, showing both sides of the coin, and without filming scenes that make many viewers cringe over how much skin they’re being unnecessarily exposed to.

We have to. Too many teenagers (since I was a teenager, so this has already gone on too long) are being sent the message that sex with whoever, whenever, and wherever is awesome. When I was young, the precautionary tales about unplanned pregnancy, STDs, and rape were everywhere. But somehow, that didn’t get through — because the rate of abortions and sexually transmitted infections among adolescents skyrocketed.

Everybody agrees this is horrible. But for some reason, that doesn’t stop TV producers (many of whom have children themselves!) from filming 21-year-olds-pretending-to-be-17 getting their kit off to fool around with their boyfriend/girlfriend of 3 weeks.

We need much more of married couples kissing and then waking up, in pajamas, in the same bed on TV. We need more movies that are about keeping your long-term relationship strong, and not just with sex. We need to bring back the days of on-screen parents being worried when they catch their kids making out with a peer.

I want my sons to be terrified of having sex before they’re mature, committed to someone they love, and ready to deal with the stick turning blue (hopefully by then, excited and wanting the stick to turn blue). But I also don’t want them to think they have to become monks. Sex, when it’s between two consenting adults who are in a loving, respectful, trusting partnership, is beautiful. It’s what God made it for. In that context, it’s a wonderful expression of those emotions, and there’s nothing wrong with it at all.

So here’s the tricky bit — how do you convince 12-year-olds sex is bad and frightening and something to stay away from…while also convincing 18-year-olds that sex with your spouse is nothing to be ashamed of, and should, in fact, be the goal?

What kids watch on TV and in movies should not form the basis of their values and principles. We parents and guardians and caretakers should teach them about laws and rules and morals, and it really rankles me that too many of us who are doing that get flack for it. What in the world is wrong with telling your kids you really want them — for their sake! — to wait to have sex? Yes, please, folks, teach your children about birth control — because that’s something important for even consenting, mature, married adults to be aware of. (As someone who loves and deeply respects children, I consider unwanted children to be one of the saddest things in the history of creation.) But DON’T let 15-year-olds think they can just run all over town, debasing their bodies and self-esteem, simply because they’re using birth control. How is this going to produce emotionally secure gentlemen and ladies of the future?

This may not go over well with some people, but I honestly don’t approve of this trend among some religious families of only “dating to marry”, especially not when it comes to adolescents. Not letting teenagers date — (*let them! just have rules! restrictions! boundaries! duh!*) — is keeping them too sheltered and won’t aid them in finding the “till death do us part” relationship they’ll aim for the second they leave home. Young people need to be in certain situations that help them cultivate respect for the other gender, learn the social rules of occasions like going on a date, and how to behave properly in front of someone you’re very attracted to.

And, guess what — you WON’T marry the first person you ever go out with. You just WON’T. A tiny, tiny portion of us will. Teeny tiny. So microscopic you can’t even spot it with the Hubble telescope. AND, there is NOTHING WRONG with dating someone (even 2 or 3 someones) and then it doesn’t work out and you don’t get married. I’ve been (gasp!) divorced and remarried myself, and life experience and perspective forms the strong basis for this statement : It is much, much better to have doubts about your impending marriage and call it off, rather than go through with it and then get divorced a year later.

Okay, back to my original point. In this day and age, pornography is a literal mouse click away, and it’s our job as parents to make sure our kids don’t get access. It’s our job to teach them how such a thing objectifys women, destroys souls, spreads disease. Our obligation to tell them we don’t approve of them engaging in anything more than first base. And then to explain what “first base” means. It’s our duty, as part of protecting our offspring and looking out for them, to make sure they want a happy, healthy intimate life with their future spouses, and kids of their own — and that they also recognize that, in high school, they’re mentally and physically not ready, and that all of this is okay.

We’re the first line of their defense. Let’s be proud of that responsibility.

The Trouble with Modern Television

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All right, prepare yourself for a whole lot of whinge, and potential spoilers. I’ll tell everybody right now, if you’re not caught up on the most recent seasons of Supernatural, Riverdale, or Grey’s Anatomy, there may be problems reading this post. Unless you don’t care about the spoilers for any of these shows. Or, er, others… Consider yourself well and truly forewarned…

So, not too long ago, I discussed how modern television programs are really letting me down. Maybe I’m feeling the effects of my age (being over 35). Maybe it’s because the TV I grew up on wasn’t yet riddled with plot device cliches, or character tropes we’d all seen a hundred times. The TV shows of the 1980s and 90s (and I was a kid then, folks, so I’m not that old) were, in terms of special effects, yes, rather lacking, compared to what we view today on our phones. However, most of the time, I didn’t care — because the TV shows I grew up with had plots that worked, characters that were endearing and easy to cheer for, writing that wasn’t chock full of overt political commentary, and stories that — if you were the creative sort yourself — made you want to write something that good.

The 90s was also the era in which we began to witness the major cultural problem of shows carrying on too long, just for the ratings/money, and the writers/directors/actors getting burned out, so the scripts turned to garbage, and the integrity of the whole program went downhill (at 50 miles an hour).

Unfortunately, it was also the era of current events issues beginning to enter the dialogue of sitcoms and dramas a little too much. While I’m not an expert on this particular medium of entertainment, as a writer, and a viewer, there’s plenty I observed, especially as an adult, and I shall be waxing lyrical about it here.

So, one of the concerns for parents when I was young was the idea that their kids would see, or hear, something on TV that, maturity-wise, they weren’t ready to. It was one of the main reasons programming over a PG-13 rating generally wasn’t broadcast until after 8 p.m., when really small people had gone to bed and wouldn’t be conscious for the possible swear words or brief shot of a woman in a bikini, or the scene where the cheating husband got murdered. Of course, this leads straight into my next point, that most of these things were edited, so that we’d only see the bikini for about 15 seconds, the murder would be intensely unrealistic, with some stunt guy just yelling, “Aaaahh!!” and falling down, and the worst anybody would say before 10 p.m. was, “Damn it, they got away!”

Now, before we get any further into this, I want to state, for the record, that I don’t approve of censorship. I don’t think simply banning an idea, or a style of filmmaking, or TV-show-making, is actually effective. (Generally banning something only makes people want to do it more, because apparently the human race is like that.) Are there things that I think are unnecessary in television programming? Absolutely. Do I think there are subjects/content that will appeal to a wide audience, but that should have their place and time (literally)? Yes.

So, here we go, onto one of my chief complaints: In most PG-13-rated shows post-2010, there seems to be an intense lack of decency.

I’ll spot Riverdale on the stand as my Exhibit A in this case. For those of you who don’t know, Riverdale started as a show based loosely on the characters/setting from the Archie comics from the 1960s and 70s. As someone who never read the comics (who never read comics at all, apart from Peanuts and Garfield), I had no idea who the characters were or what their premise was. I did a little research prior to the season 1 premiere, and found that it was basically a classic example of high school life in the 1950s, very apple-pie, white-picket-fence, totally unrealistic middle-class America of a bygone age. I couldn’t see how any of this would relate to modern viewers, so I started watching, out of pure curiosity.

And I have to say, season 1 of Riverdale is brilliant. It takes all those metaphors I just used, and turns them on their head. It adds diversity, it shakes up the established culture of a small town in the middle of nowhere, with murder, conspiracy, corruption, and tons of drama. It’s juicy, it’s exciting, it’s a guilty pleasure. And throughout, we’re reminded that the main characters are just teens, dealing with stuff they shouldn’t have to, and their innocence being shattered is palpable to the audience. The cautionary tales that arise from putting themselves in dangerous situations is important to include, and rings true. 

Then the season ends on a cliffhanger (grrrrrr, STOP doing that, producers!!), and when we get more than a few episodes into season 2, we see it’s all going to the dogs. Teenagers are running around, vigilantes trying to solve crimes, carrying guns and joining gangs. The adults are either horrifically corrupt, disgustingly clueless, or have no backbone to stand up to the dark forces taking over their town. There’s a completely unnecessary amount of violence, nudity, and sex (among the adolescents). The plot makes no sense after half a dozen episodes. Well before the end of season 2 arrived, I was barely keeping up with the new broadcasts, and I’d grown so dissatisfied, I highly doubted I’d care if season 3 was announced. Well, it was, and here’s the verdict — I won’t be watching it.

Next on the evidence stand I present (sob!) Supernatural. I LOVED Supernatural. The relationship between the brothers, Sam and Dean, was awesome — plenty of sibling rivalry, they played pranks on each other, argued over not listening to the same album in the car again; then they’d go out monster hunting and absolutely have each other’s backs, no matter what. The fact these guys saved so many people, risked their lives countless times, literally died and came back more than thrice — all in the name of continuing to fight the good fight, it was so heartrending. And the secondary characters were all so good, too — their complicated past with their dad, John Winchester, their foster father, Bobby, the tragic loss of their mother early on; perilous love interests that proved to be bad for them, dodgy alliances with Crowley and Rowena, the twists of the angels not always being the good guys — all of it was just… Well, I kept watching this show for years.

And because of the subject matter — fighting demons, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and mythical monsters that liked to kill humans — we all knew this would be a program that would require a strong stomach. So, really, nothing they threw at the audience — in terms of blood and gore, epic demon battles, exorcisms, all the religious questions that naturally come with this territory — bothered me. I was either expecting it (and so at times would just look away from the screen), or I appreciated the writers’ willingness to tackle such topics as angels and demons, the fall of Lucifer, the war in Heaven, the Mark of Cain, whether God actually hears our prayers, Purgatory, resurrection, and so much more. For a long time, this was the only show on mainstream TV that was discussing such things.

Then season 11 happened. And I basically stopped watching. Too much occurred in the plot that didn’t just pose interesting muses on theology — it took accepted doctrine (from both Christian and Jewish cultures) and threw it out the window. In a very non-subtle way. And then (from the few episodes I saw of season 12 and 13), the confrontational style only grew more intense. What Supernatural had going for it before — its lack of getting mired in the political soapboxes of the day — completely vanished by early 2017. And it made me sad.

How did a show that made me laugh out loud and cry like a baby — so often within the same episode — just disappear seemingly overnight? The actors are the same, the characters have the same names, but I swear, this is no longer the Supernatural I spent the past 5 years catching up on. Cue the tears of despair and frustration.

What drives earnest creative minds, who have survived the ravages of Hollywood’s limits and stringent censors, to walk away from something truly entertaining and beautiful that they fought so hard to write, act, direct, edit? Is it just the pressure of the industry, the fickleness of the public, the way money talks in this field and if you can’t get it, your production suffers? I think it’s a combination of all this, and something else, something new to our society.

While television has consistently been a platform for raising awareness of cultural issues that need to be addressed, never has the discussion been so one-sided as it is nowadays. Forcing actual comments in the media about gun control, the environment, or abortion into the dialogue of fictional characters is blatantly attempting to brainwash your audience. What the hell happened to having a character who found themselves in a difficult situation — such as an unexpected pregnancy — and having the episode be about the options available to them, and how their decision might affect the other characters? Not simply, “The network says we have to present this view, so we are.” That is not the mark of a society that values free speech.

So, I honestly think part of the reason more balanced shows seem to be slipping out of the current schedule is because some of the people who make such programs are feeling burned out, and tired of fighting with the present network administrations. I have no proof of this, it’s just a theory. But it makes sense.

Here we come to my next big point in this treatise: People in the industry — writers, directors, actors, crew — do appear to be developing burn-out. Partly, the lack of new ideas on even the cable networks indicates the folks who come up with original stuff can’t find such a notion using satellite GPS and the Hubble telescope. And this usually means they are stressed, worn out, or traveling through India. My guess is it’s the first and second.

So, here we come to my Exhibit C: Grey’s Anatomy.

I got into Grey’s Anatomy late — the end of season 12, to be precise. I was incredibly bored and tired during Muffin’s naptime, and I wanted to just get off my feet and ignore the chores for 2 hours. So I jumped on the streaming services, and found that people were flailing over the season finale of Grey’s, and I thought, “Hey, I’ve never seen this, why not?” A couple episodes into season 13, and I was hooked.

Then I began seeing various comments on social media, from long-time fans who were growing disillusioned with the show. I did a little research on the official Wiki site, and realized just how much I’d missed. So, about a month ago, I went to the library and checked out the DVDs of season 1-5.

And I can now concretely say, OH. MY. GOSH. The storylines were so much better in the early years, the writing and editing so powerful, the characters so alive and fully fleshed-out. I shipped folks, I gasped in shock, I burst out laughing, I wept. While there were some things I didn’t agree with (in terms of my own spiritual and social convictions), I honestly felt free to disagree with it, and just enjoy the rest of the show. Not that I was being coerced into seeing the issue from exactly the same point of view as perhaps the director, the writer, or the network.

However, in current broadcasting, now we are on to the end of season 14. And the bubble has burst.

Siiigghhh.

The new TV season begins this fall, and here’s what I will be doing while it is on: Not watching it. I’ll be reading, or watching PBS (their nature and history programs are still pretty, remarkably unbiased), or surfing the internet. I’ll happily re-watch DVDs of old X-Files series, and movies I’ve seen a dozen times so I know I’ll enjoy it. I truly don’t feel I’ll miss out on anything.

Doctor Who lost me when they broke all the rules of time travel with the 11th Doctor. Making the 12th Doctor a nasty, angry “I’m with her” social commentary trope just made me mad. Now that it’s been set in stone the 13th Doctor will be a woman — playing straight into the hands of several current political agendas — I’m not even going to bother. Just to clarify — I have nothing against this actress, and I genuinely wish her the best, and hope she gets fantastic companions and scripts. But I am SO. TIRED. of having the news headlines shoehorned into what’s supposed to be entertainment.

When I watch TV or a film, I do it to escape. Yes, there are extremely important unpleasant stories that need to be told. But why do they have to hit you over the head with it? Why can’t we have nice metaphors and allegories, like in the original Star Trek, or Lord of the Rings?

I gave up on most dramas ages ago. I don’t even care for many historical fiction shows anymore. Same for a lot of sci-fi, even fantasy. And the last time I watched a sitcom — apart from 3 months ago, because there was one in particular I was curious about — was 7 or 8 years back.

Seriously, I. AM. DONE.

Thank you so much for making it to the end of this quite long post! Any thoughts to add in the comments?

Life, the Universe, and Everything

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(Or, a Brief History of Time. Or, maybe, A Short History of Nearly Everything. Yes, I am mercilessly robbing titles and subtitles from Douglas Adams, Stephen Hawking, and Bill Bryson. If any of you don’t get these references, come see me in the comments, so that we can properly educate you.)

Anyway, here’s what I’m gearing up to discussing: Those of you who have been around this blog a while may remember that I haven’t always focused on conversing about and promoting books (either what I’ve read or what I’ve written). Over the course of months and months, I debated whether to make the theme of my blog family life with autism, or just reading, just writing, or reading and writing, or… Too many combinations began to wrestle each other for supremacy in my brain. So, after debating, “Do I even need to stick to a theme?!?!”, I opted for concentrating on promoting my work, and encouraging other indie authors and readers of indie publications.

Well, I’ve done that. (Hopefully with a fair amount of success?? She looks down to the comments section to provide clarity on that front.) And I am immensely grateful to those of you who have shoved my blog links in the faces of faceless internet folks (hmm, does that make sense?), and insisted that everybody in the world read my posts, my published titles, my random quips on Twitter, and even my grocery list. (Sorry, guys, but my grocery lists are pretty functional and not exactly amusing or insightful.)

However, now we reach the crux of the biscuit: There is so much more I want to discuss. So many topics I want to cover. I’m really tired of theme-sticking (I feel sticky enough, dang it), of wracking my brain to come up with a subject within said theme that I haven’t already posted on, of feeling boxed in by said theme-continuing-method of blogging.

When I was about White Fang’s age, I decided that when I “grew up,” I wanted to be Erma Bombeck. She was a woman who made us laugh, yes, but she also made us think. She wanted her readers to take something away from her weekly columns — whether it be a much-needed chuckle, tears, or the inspiration to behave kindly and lovingly towards each other. I read her column every Sunday for years, until she passed away, and then I read her books. Erma Bombeck and Dave Barry formed my earliest notions of attempting to write about serious things presented in a humorous manner.

They convinced me that it worked.

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While I’ve chosen to try to make my career as an author, I am not just a writer. I’m also a mother, a dancer, an autist, a person of the 21st century. My inspiration that goes into my published titles has come from a variety of life experiences, from places I’ve been to, people I’ve known, books and films I’ve loved, cats I’ve treasured, music that made my heart sing and my body dance.

I’ve traveled (a little), I’ve stood in line for the latest Harry Potter release, gone horseback riding, watched a winter storm roll in to the beach in the dark of night. (Admittedly that last one was not the wisest idea, considering we were standing literally on the sand with the wind and waves ramping up, and the roads off the island were going to be closed any minute… But it was cool.)

There’s so much to this rich tapestry of life. And while I can’t ever hope to cover absolutely every single thing I may want to discuss on this platform (I’ll have forgotten 2 or 3 minor ideas by the time I post this, for the love of Pete), I’m sure going to try.

I’d never describe myself as fickle, but when something loses my interest, I have no qualms about leaving it in the dust. I don’t mean abandoning anything serious, like family, or flossing; but in the last several months, I feel as if I’ve talked about tropes, genre norms, character cliches, whether all the installments of a series should be the same size, and just what the heck headcanoning is until I’m blue in the face. I still totally love reading, and will be writing more of my own novels, and keeping up with my fellow bloggers, even if they tend to focus on these topics.

Though, when it comes to my own online spaces, I’m ready to diversify.

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When I’d only been blogging for a little while, all the advice I came across said the same thing: Decide what you’re going to post on, and keep to those subjects. The public doesn’t care for blogs that are all over the place.

Well, who cares? Who decided these people were the “experts” on blogging, and what the public does and doesn’t want? (Probably the same folks who are running corporations into the ground by continually rolling out ill-advised products many consumers then refuse to buy.)

Ahem.

So, looking ahead for this blog: I’ll be posting probably once a week or so throughout the summer, about whatever strikes my fancy at that point. There will still be relevant and timely updates regarding my publishing empire, but otherwise…this shall be the start of a journey.

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The Newest Round of Announcements, News, and Updates! (the June 2018 one, since I do this often)

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I guess this can also count as a monthly recap. Remember when I said I was going to do one of those every month?? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha…

Well, May became much busier in other things, and not so much writing, and less blogging than I’d hoped for… And I honestly can’t say that I’m pleased with this state of affairs, as I was, for a bit there, racing to catch up on important tasks, like editing. Hence why Volume 3 has a cover and title reveal, but no planned release date yet. I just know it’s going to be sometime prior to July 19th.

Anyway, here’s a brief summary of what occurred in my scary brain/writing plans over the past 4 weeks:

In the interest of concentrating on Volume 3, I definitely skimped on other projects, such as blogging, or Wattpad.
(Foolishly) Throwing caution to the wind, I joined a monthly book club, and a monthly writers’ group. (This created less time in which to edit, and it meant socializing. But this could also be good for me. Right?!)
I did successfully complete the majority of my editing, and the fun “extras” that will be accompanying my books that are going to Realm Makers. (Hint: For those of you who ordered a box of goodies with the first edition of Volume 1, remember the colorings/letters you received? Similar to that.)
There was a whole L-O-T of abject and distraught howling and grumbling.
I may have died a little.

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Here’s what I realized/am forcing myself to do after this month:

At least a bit of socializing is important. My natural impulse is to run the opposite direction from these groups that meet on a regular basis. I’m mentally putting my feet in cement shoes regarding this subject. I will see it through.
Making better plans than “at some point in the next 3 months” as far as my books go should become a priority.
I need to take my own advice, and devote more time to reading books I want to read, rather than really hyped ones, or titles that I feel forced into.

Hence, this is what my writing/publishing schedule shall look like for the rest of 2018:

Before autumn arrives, I want to have drafts completed for Volume 4, The Super Secret Project, and the long-planned prequel.
I am not pressuring myself to put new chapters of How To Be A Savage on Wattpad. Instead, I will be looking ahead to compiling the non-fiction and fiction parts, separately, then together, into a manuscript ready to format for publishing.
My hope is to publish The Super Secret Project and the prequel prior to 2019 lurking on the calendar.

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The end result, we all hope, will mean less stress, less howling, and a moth that is satisfied with what she’s produced.

Other news:

White Fang received a super special purchase, related to The Super Secret Project, but I cannot yet say what it is, because, spoilers (for my own book, gah!).
Muffin is now 4 years old.
The school year is coming to a close, and I am nowhere near ready for summer, please everybody send allll the help…

Also, I am feeling a slight blogging slump approaching, so if I happen not to show my face around here much in the next few weeks, it’s a combination of that, and of being so honestly busy with writing-related stuff.

As the countdown to summer is on, let’s all try to stay healthy and safe and happy about it! Have a great week, moths!

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Mini-Reviews: The “White Fang Made Me Read It” Edition

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Yes, I really am going with that title, because, yes, he did. Some of these I liked, and volunteer to continue with, and others…I am, well, err…we’ll get to that part.

The Illuminae Files series by Jay Kristoff and Amie Kaufman:

Okay, I am the biggest blob of aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh-it-wrecked-me-and-aaaaaaaaaaahhh-it-drove-me-crazy on these books. Book 1, I honestly, for the most part, I liked. Book 2…not so much. And book 3…Ehhhhhhhhhhh. Let the whinging commence!

To begin with, the format of this series is never something I would choose on my own. The story being told through letters, security cam transcripts, IM chats, and official spaceship documentation is quite alien (ha) to me, and I immediately passed on the thought of reading this when book 1 first came out.

However, at the time, White Fang was having a bit of difficulty comprehending some traditional text stories, hence I tried him for it. He loved it…and insisted I also read it. The things we do for our kids…

As I mentioned, book 1 wasn’t awful, though. But it was kind of hard to get through. I was a little relieved when I finished it.

Enter book 2… Oh, man. It was a struggle. I just couldn’t connect to the characters, and I HATED the AI…seriously, the Space Odyssey 2001 flashbacks were almost torture…

Book 3 meant the return of characters I grew attached to in book 1, and that meant I could survive the final installment. The ending was satisfying, not too dark, and everybody that I wanted to live, did. So, major yay for that.

Unpopular opinion alert: Here are my major qualms with this series — they should not be branded/marketed YA. They are extremely violent and grotesque in places (especially in Gemina), there are a plethora of sexual references, and it does not matter that the really bad swear words are blacked out, you can still tell by context what they most likely were. As a parent, this bothers me. I’m not in the habit of censoring what White Fang reads — I want him not to be naive, and I want him to be aware that the world is not all exploding glitter rainbows. BUT I also want him to know that emulating such crude language is not gentlemanly, nor mature, and I would like him to believe that waiting to become physically intimate with your crush is an honorable lifestyle and worth pursuing. Books like this do not help the cause of the parent of teen boys. SIGH.

The Apprentice Cat series by Virginia Ripple:

       

From one end of the literary analysis criteria to the other. This indie published MG fantasy series is Christian-based, but hardly preachy, absolutely clean language, and the only hints at romance are sweet and age-appropriate for the target audience. There’s some violence, but nothing gory, and when there’s darker subject matter, it fits for the context of that part of the plot.

Now, the irony — I am not a fan of the author’s style. It just doesn’t flow right for me. The characters are cute — the protagonist cat is named TOBY, for crying out loud — and content is definitely not an issue, but I just cannot get into this tale. And I just found out there’s a fourth book. I’m sure White Fang will want to read it — he loved this whole bunch. But hopefully I won’t have to read it as well.

TRULY no offense to the author. I LOVE, on steroids, that a Christian author crafted a MG/YA fantasy that feels Harry Potter-ish with cats as the heroes. I have even added the 4th tale (ha) to my TBR, so that I remember to get it for White Fang.

And I have to admit, I’m a little sad that these novels don’t make me explode with glitter and rainbows.

The Warriors novellas by Erin Hunter:

         

First, these COVERS. Let’s have a moment of appreciation for the art.

Okay, onto the actual writing…

My favorites were Spottedleaf’s Heart, Ravenpaw’s Farewell, and Mistystar’s Omen. Almost all of the stories had me in absolute tears, or raging at the villain. Or both. Hey, it’s Warriors. 

Some of these shorter tales really added to the canon of the series, and you could tell the authors (Erin Hunter is a ghost writer name — sorry, folks — and these novels are actually penned by a collection of writers) put a lot of thought into the backstories of these secondary characters that didn’t get enough “screen time” in the original books. Others were fan favorites that the “canon” just strayed away from, and I felt creating a proper end to their plots was very fitting.

However, as I’ve unfortunately noticed happening with a lot of series (especially the longer they carry on), a couple of these really did nothing for expanding the established world, and felt tacked on by the publisher to capitalize on the success of these books as a whole. And that makes me kind of sad.

The good news is most of these are well worth reading if you’re a Warriors fan.

And there we have it for now! I’ll be back in the near future with some more announcements about what my publishing empire will look like this year!

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Volume 3: Title and Cover Reveal!

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Yes, everybody, here it is! Making its in-person debut at Realm Makers this year, Volume 3 of The Order of the Twelve Tribes shall be called Healers and Warriors, and this is the cover you need to be on the lookout for. Another fantastic design by The Kyle Robert Shultz (#shultzwithoutac), Healers and Warriors will be available in paperback in the very near future. You can find it on Barnes&Noble.com even if you can’t be at Realm Makers, and online purchases will be possible long after the conference is finished.

I don’t have a concrete release date yet, but I estimate around July 1st. A limited number of autographed copies can be acquired through Kyle at the Realm Makers conference July 19th-21st (so hunt him down while you can — but please be gentle, he still has other covers to create for me). And, as previously mentioned, if you need to place an online order, you’ll be able to do so anytime after I approve Volume 3’s publication.

There have been a few bumps in the road to release for this one, so I (and Kyle) greatly appreciate all of your patience and ongoing support. I’ll be back with more updates soon!

The Great American Read: Part 3

Welcome back! Enjoy this final installment of The Great American Read (TGAR) discussion!

Remember, I include only approximately the year I first read these (I am not an elephant, my memory has flaws), and whether I personally made the decision to engage in them firsthand, or whether the powers-that-be of higher education made me suffer through them. (By the way, not all assigned titles will result in suffering…)

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold (2011?, personal)

I HATE this story. Sorry, fans. I could get past the fact that it’s about a serial killer of teenage girls (which is horrific enough) if there was a JUST and SENSIBLE ending. The very notion of the murderer being done in by his karma is simply prepostorous.

The Martian by Andy Weir (2016, personal)

I didn’t finish reading this. I have seen all of the movie, so I know how it ended. But the novel is kind of…well, it’s not for everybody. Maybe this one where we should say, it’s okay to skip the book and go straight to the film?

The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks (2008?, personal)

I have very mixed feelings about this tale. I don’t really care for the author’s style (which is why I’ve never read anything else by him), but I liked the characters, and the focus on dementia is important and heartbreaking. Though I’m just not one for the boy-meets-girl, girl-is-already-involved, girl-can’t-decide sort of formula that this book follows.

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon (2017, personal)

I will admit: I totally judged Outlander by an advertisement. I saw a preview for the TV series — with the Scottish music and the Highlands in the distance — and immediately went, “WHAT IS THIS BOOK, I NEED TO HAVE IT NOW!!!” 50 pages into my copy from the library, I was hooked. I stayed up past my bedtime for 3 nights in a row to keep reading further. However, once I got about halfway through the novel, I saw some very big problems creeping up. One is totally the language Claire uses; she doesn’t act like a woman of the 1940s — she behaves like a liberal feminist of the 1980s. She professes to have a lot of knowledge about the customs of the time period she travels to, but does nothing to follow them, and therefore sticks out like a sore thumb, putting herself in immense danger. When she suddenly switches from insisting to everyone she’s already married to letting herself be wed to a near stranger as a political play, the rest of the book descends into Fifty Shades of Grey: The Jacobite Rebellion version. It’s sick, in my opinion. And a sign of poor writing, that evidently the author felt she couldn’t pen a romance without including graphic erotic content. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t recommend it.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (2004?, school)

This is the only Jane Austen novel I’ve actually read and not just seen a movie version. And honestly, I won’t be changing that pattern anytime soon. Maybe it’s because of the era Austen lived in, or the fact women weren’t really taught creative writing back then, but I did not understand 90% of the text. The style felt more like pre-theatre-script or an outline than actual prose, and I never was able to grasp why Elizabeth Bennett found Mr Darcy so terrible (he seemed like a peach to me), or why Mr Darcy wanted to marry such a stuck-up snob as Lizzie. And the subplots, with the other sisters falling for men who were also apparently “scoundrels” (but, again, for reasons I couldn’t comprehend at all), only confused me further. Even after watching the movie, I didn’t really get it. But I’ve really enjoyed films of Emma and Northanger Abbey. Hmm…

The Shack by William Young (2010?, personal)

This is another “Christian” fiction that makes me want to gag. While the theme of forgiveness and moving on after tragedy is important, I find the distinctly un-Biblical take the author puts on his portrayal of the narrator’s journey disturbing. Not disturbing in itself — I mean, if this novel was just classified as fiction, and not Christian fiction, it wouldn’t bother me in the least that Young depicts God as a big black woman who likes to cook. But the label needs to be there for good reason, and this approach is so incredibly against dogma and doctrine that it makes me cringe to hear pastors endorsing this title. It’s not a good example, not AT ALL, of how God (the Father, Son and Holy Spirit God) can help us heal following a tragic event.

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe (2000?, school)

I throw my weight behind this selection. It’s an African historical fiction, about the last days of tribal life in a country that soon became destroyed by war and colonists. It’s sad, but powerful, accurate, and important that we not let this type of history slip away from our collective awareness.

This Present Darkness by Frank Peretti (2007?, personal)

Here’s another Christian fiction that had me foaming at the mouth. I don’t recommend anything by Frank Peretti, and I’m shocked and ticked off that this title is one of the highest-selling Christian fiction novels in the last 20 years. I rolled my eyes about 14 times by page 25, and threw in the towel somewhere around the halfway mark (probably not even, realistically). Yes, because simply researching ancient Asian religions is going to let loose vile demons in your tiny town of God-fearing Bible-thumpers. Give me a break. Also, the formatting of the early printings is lame; the font is tiny and there’s hardly any spacing between chapter breaks. And I think the author didn’t understand the value of including character names in dialogue — a simple “Charles said,” or “Katie asked,” goes a loooong way in helping to keep track of conversations in text.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (1995?, school, 2007?, personal)

If I had to choose just one to “win” TGAR, I think I’d go with Harper Lee’s only novel. To Kill a Mockingbird is charming, tearjerking, innocent, and profound; it tackles issues of racism and prejudice and disabilities in an era when people didn’t yet talk about these matters openly. Atticus Finch is the biggest hero dad ever, and the way he treats all the marginalized characters, from Tom Robinson to Dill to Boo Radley, just…insert crying emojis here.

The Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer (2013?, personal)

Well, this is an interesting inclusion on the list! I thought these books were fun, a different take on the nearly-exhausted vampire/werewolf motif, but I have some issues with the fourth book especially, and honestly I was Team Jacob all the way. Truly, I would’ve preferred a very different ending to the series. Not just with Bella and Edward, but in general. (I could probably write a whole post about that…)

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (2016, personal)

After having repeated several times I’m not big on classics, why would I volunteer to read Emily Bronte’s only novel? Because for years, I ran around my house with a duster, singing, “Heath-cliff, it’s me, Ka-athy, come h-h-ome now, so c-o-o-o-l-d, let me in at your win-o-d-ow!” (That’s referencing the Kate Bush song from the 1970s, for those of you who don’t know.) And finally I decided it would be a good idea to find out more about the novel that inspired the song. It is definitely dark, it’s tragic, but the main characters are so awful to each other, you don’t even feel bad about their fates. Maybe Miss Emily was a bit grim and twisty?…

And there we have it! Most likely, I won’t be trying to read the other 65 selections (my TBR needs to be culled as it is). But I thought this was an interesting experiment — and for those of you who would like to see how many you’ve read, as mentioned before, the master list of The Great American Read can be found via PBS.com. Have a great day, everyone!

The Great American Read: Part 2

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Welcome back to Part 2 of this discussion! Continuing with the alphabetical list where I left off…

Remember, these are only the books on The Great American Read that I’ve already read. The entire list has 100 selections, and the master can be found through PBS.com.

The Giver by Lois Lowry (2010, school)

I’d never heard of this book until it was an assignment for a college course. Apparently it’s been considered a children’s classic for years. Who knew? (In my defense, I was a rather limited-interest youth, and if it didn’t fall into my immediate areas of passion, I just wasn’t on the lookout for it.) Anyway, I wouldn’t call it a classic, and I hated it. Dystopian isn’t my favorite genre, but I think certain stories/authors craft a good dystopian without getting too dismal and despairing. But along with the intense lack of humanity in The Giver, there is never any REASON given for why the society ended up so twisted and authoritarian. And in a culture ruled by technology and regulations, the concept of one person being able to transmit all the memories of an ENTIRE species and history, apparently by osmosis, is RIDICULOUS. I couldn’t get beyond the inherent flaws in the premise to see any value in the story.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (2015?, personal)

Okay, Gone Girl is twisted, and twisty, and in some ways it sucks you in and you feel compelled to find out what really happened and how it’s going to end. But it also leaves you with a definite sense of unease, and it reminded me of why I usually avoid reading thrillers.

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (1995?, school)

Yes, this novel is not light-hearted or a fun read. Is it important? Yes. The Great Depression is an era too many people are already forgetting or passing over in history class. We can’t do that. Steinbeck paints a bleak, realistic, and sympathetic picture of these farmers and the period they lived in.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (1996?, 2004?, school)

Yes, once again, I was assigned the same title twice, in different courses! It’s definitely not among my favorites of Mr. Dickens. I do understand that it has valuable lessons in terms of not being too quick to trust people, or not getting swept off your feet by a beautiful but truly awful woman (or man). There are powerful hints in there about the problem with wealth covering up mental illness and people trying to buy happiness. Again, it’s an important sort of tale, just not one I’ll volunteer to ingest.

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The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1996?, school)

In many ways, The Great Gatsby could be called the modern Great Expectations. Gatsby is a self-made man, hoping to win the heart of a physically stunning but horribly selfish and conceited woman. This is a hard book to read, too, not because of the subject matter, but because so many of the characters are downright unlikable, and you can’t even root for Gatsby because he wants in with these massive jerks. You’ll never find me picking this one up again.

Harry Potter by JK Rowling (2000-2011, personal)

This is one of the few on the list I wholeheartedly concur with, and already recommend it to anyone who hasn’t read the series. White Fang and I are excited to start it with Muffin one day. I’m even going to invest in the new illustrated series before he’s old enough (and yes, partly because White Fang and I want to drool over them first). I could wax poetic about HP for a whiiiiile, so I’ll spare you in this moment, so that we can get through the rest of this post within a timely manner…

The Help by Kathryn Stockett (2012?, personal)

I did not like this story at all. It should have no place on the platform of the discussion about race. I was horrified by the way the black maids were treated, even in the era of Jim Crow rules. And the narrator was incredibly irresponsible, treating these women as if they were a sideshow, costing them their jobs, and then swanning off to New York for a big job as a journalist. I rarely advocate destroying books, but this one…I’m sorely tempted.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (2003, 2007, 2015, personal)

Okay, so I’ve read this a lot — what’s it to ya? It’s one of the sci-fi greats. And as a rule, I am not a sci-fi fan. Adams’ clever humor and brilliant and subtle insights into human behavior make for an excellent space adventure. It’s also a title I already yell at everyone to read it. Multiple times. And then start using the quotes in your everyday life. Every day.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (2011, personal)

The reason I picked this one up was because all my co-workers at the time literally shoved it at me and declared, “Start reading!” As previously stated, I don’t really do dystopia, so I wasn’t going to read this of my own accord. I really, really wish I’d stuck to my guns. Book 1 was riveting, actually funny in places, then had a twist that was just SO UNFAIR I wanted to tear out the remaining pages and write my own ending. (For those of you who are wondering, it’s the fact that Peeta lost his leg after all Katniss did to save it, and the one-time exception about a pair of Tributes from the same District getting to win being a trick.) I skipped book 2 (to this day I’ve only seen the movie), finished book 3, and then proceeded to writhe in anguish and curse the author’s career. Yup, it was that brutal. I couldn’t stand Katniss well before the end of book 3, and honestly, I don’t recommend this series to anyone.

Left Behind by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins (2007?, personal)

I didn’t even make it to the end of the first book in this series. It feels so trite, so patronizing, and paints a very, very narrow worldview of who’s deserving of God’s mercy. Sorry, folks, but I just don’t buy it. I know that puts me at odds with many evangelicals nationwide, but I have a more liberal view of end-of-the-world theories than the writers of these novels. And I’m allowed to be of the opinion that they’re not good fiction, Christian or otherwise.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (1989?, personal)

Like The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, this was a classic I chose to read at a young age. Again, I’m really not sure why, as I wasn’t big on historical fiction, and I didn’t understand probably 70% of the content. I came to appreciate this story much more as an adult, after I knew about what it was like to be a middle-class women during the Civil War.

Looking for Alaska by John Green (2013?, personal)

Some of my students (the older ones) were reading John Green novels, and I wanted to see what all the hype was. I grabbed Looking for Alaska off the library shelf randomly. I didn’t like it one bit. It’s condescending towards teenagers who actually like and respect their parents, who don’t spend their free time getting drunk and having sex, and suicide and instalove are glamorized. I truly feel anything by John Green should be nowhere near a list of 100 books recommended to everybody.

The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien (2005?, personal)

Confession: I watched the movies first. No one throw things. I did allow myself to get talked into reading the books afterwards. But, moment of absolute truth here, seeing the films first was vital to my understanding and enjoying the story. Professor Tolkien’s writing style is meandering, wordy, and by turns enchanting and frustrating. It took me months to get through each volume, because of the pages and pages were not much happens, and poems and songs in invented languages were randomly thrown in, like, in the middle of a fight scene or something. It was very hard for me to follow or get into that style. While I am glad I read the trilogy, I don’t think I will again. Sorry, fans.

All right, that’s it for this time! Moving on to Part 3 next!