Kate Rothwell's Blog, page 42
November 17, 2010
Kate Ponders Willow and Bristol on Facebook
I'm not going to think about this story I'm writing. I'm going to cruise around. . . and WOW, would you look at that? Straight from Lamebook, a dumb back and forth between Willow and some other people -- and then.... howdy, Bristol.
My first response: five minutes of my life, gone, reading idiocy.
The focus of the MSM article I read is the faggot and gay stuff. The fact that there was gay and faggot calling in that thread isn't even slightly shocking to me. Here in fancypants liberal enclave CT the middle schoolers still throw those words around easily. They're being trained, but the words are still there.
What took me aback was how the Palin Jrs went snarling grizzly bear so fast. Aren't they used to that kind of trash talking by now? And come to think of it, the "hated the show" remark is hardly calling their mom a whore. Haven't the handlers taught them how to ignore bad press?
Then I got smug. I happen to know my kids were raised better'n that. A few years ago my seventh grader had to listen to a neighbor kid trash talk me (long, dumb story) on the school bus and he just hunkered down and pretended not to hear. Seemed like a good response to me and not just because he didn't want to get the snot beaten out of him. There's some dignity to not mixing it up with people like that. Stay out of the mud.
Furthermore, if any of my kids did go after someone on Face book, any one of the boys, even the 13-year-old would be more creative than that, not to mention use your and you're correctly.
My final thought -- before I started wondering what to make for dinner -- thank god there was no internet when I was sixteen. Bad enough for some of us noisy out-there adults. Add immaturity to the mix and yow. Ugly.
I wonder if there are going to be repercussions behind the scenes. I'd consider that kind of idiocy worthy of a stern lecture. Maybe even a few days banished from facebook.
It has to be worse for the Palins because, after all, that family makes its money on the members' images. No matter that they publicly cast the kids' facebook ranting nonsense as a "baby grizzly defending her mom" Privately, they must be doing some yelling. Because how else did those kids learn to be so grizzly? hey?
And for dinner? Um. Okay.
My first response: five minutes of my life, gone, reading idiocy.
The focus of the MSM article I read is the faggot and gay stuff. The fact that there was gay and faggot calling in that thread isn't even slightly shocking to me. Here in fancypants liberal enclave CT the middle schoolers still throw those words around easily. They're being trained, but the words are still there.
What took me aback was how the Palin Jrs went snarling grizzly bear so fast. Aren't they used to that kind of trash talking by now? And come to think of it, the "hated the show" remark is hardly calling their mom a whore. Haven't the handlers taught them how to ignore bad press?
Then I got smug. I happen to know my kids were raised better'n that. A few years ago my seventh grader had to listen to a neighbor kid trash talk me (long, dumb story) on the school bus and he just hunkered down and pretended not to hear. Seemed like a good response to me and not just because he didn't want to get the snot beaten out of him. There's some dignity to not mixing it up with people like that. Stay out of the mud.
Furthermore, if any of my kids did go after someone on Face book, any one of the boys, even the 13-year-old would be more creative than that, not to mention use your and you're correctly.
My final thought -- before I started wondering what to make for dinner -- thank god there was no internet when I was sixteen. Bad enough for some of us noisy out-there adults. Add immaturity to the mix and yow. Ugly.
I wonder if there are going to be repercussions behind the scenes. I'd consider that kind of idiocy worthy of a stern lecture. Maybe even a few days banished from facebook.
It has to be worse for the Palins because, after all, that family makes its money on the members' images. No matter that they publicly cast the kids' facebook ranting nonsense as a "baby grizzly defending her mom" Privately, they must be doing some yelling. Because how else did those kids learn to be so grizzly? hey?
And for dinner? Um. Okay.
November 16, 2010
work stuff
I'm working at Borders (hi, Linda! hi, Helder! hi, Guy whose name I've forgotten--whoops) and I'm listening to Pandora as I write. The music was movie themed stuff and I notice that when I work to all that orchestrated splendor, my writing is always more fascinating and heroic....or so it feels as I thump out the words. Wait, it's not the writing that gets all glitterific. The characters transform into more than people.
That uplifting effect is obvious in the movies themselves. What an unfair advantage, having audio to pump up your audience's response. Pfah.
Anyway, I moved over to jazz and my characters were suddenly laid back and uninterested in the conversation. Too cool for school. Back to something neutral, maybe New Age. I don't want superheroes and I don't want schlubs. (I'll take Plain Old Interesting People for a thousand, Alex.)
That uplifting effect is obvious in the movies themselves. What an unfair advantage, having audio to pump up your audience's response. Pfah.
Anyway, I moved over to jazz and my characters were suddenly laid back and uninterested in the conversation. Too cool for school. Back to something neutral, maybe New Age. I don't want superheroes and I don't want schlubs. (I'll take Plain Old Interesting People for a thousand, Alex.)
November 12, 2010
a quick break
I LOVE BOOKS> LOVE THEM, love them, love them. I love stories and collections of dry facts and poems and analysis (sometimes) and fluff and even that bio textbook that's been sitting on our dining room table since the beginning of time. I want to read them all---every single one. As long as there isn't a test at the end and as long as I don't have to retain the actual content anywhere in my mind, I'm there, baby.
Do It Yourself
A few years back I realized the problem with having no religion is that I don't have rituals. I needed my own Day of the Dead. Jarhzeit candles. Post the names and losses on the back of the church bulletin. Bow my head over some sort of altar. Some formal grieving.
The point of that realization is that I had to make one, do something, or I'd never shake off the autumnal blues. Once I figured that out, well, it was almost as good as actually having the ritual.
But I've never actually gotten around to evolving a ceremony. Bake a cake and each bite is a goodbye to something? Stand in front of a mirror and read aloud? I get the point of group rituals. The more people taking part, the less you feel like a silly person (though I must say the instances of grace I've felt were when I was alone).
I think going into a field and looking at dead grass is the best I'll manage. Not bad, but not particularly lovely -- unless you count the field itself. That's pretty good. My religion isn't going to be the source of great art or even consolation. And because it's just me, not even my family, you can forget the sense of a community, which is a real and serious downside. On the other hand, you don't have to wear pantyhose to take part.
The point of that realization is that I had to make one, do something, or I'd never shake off the autumnal blues. Once I figured that out, well, it was almost as good as actually having the ritual.
But I've never actually gotten around to evolving a ceremony. Bake a cake and each bite is a goodbye to something? Stand in front of a mirror and read aloud? I get the point of group rituals. The more people taking part, the less you feel like a silly person (though I must say the instances of grace I've felt were when I was alone).
I think going into a field and looking at dead grass is the best I'll manage. Not bad, but not particularly lovely -- unless you count the field itself. That's pretty good. My religion isn't going to be the source of great art or even consolation. And because it's just me, not even my family, you can forget the sense of a community, which is a real and serious downside. On the other hand, you don't have to wear pantyhose to take part.
November 8, 2010
SBD tough guy edition
I'm reluctant to post because it'll push our NEW BOOK down. For some reason, book releases and my books out there have become more exciting again. I wish to cradle the precioussssss excitement of hey! look! People! Look! A book! I helped write it! A BOOK!
But tradition is important too, and it's Monday. SBD, bitches.
I read a book -- or rather, I listened to one. It was my very first Lee Child Reacher book. Number five in the series, but I wasn't lost, which is great. I do like Reacher and I've decided he can get away with being a laconic killing machine because he doesn't get all angsty. The introspection is about as much as you'd expect from any normal sort of a person. So his life is basically like any0ne else's except he's nothing like anyone else.
When he beats a guy up, that guy stays DOWN. On the FLOOR, nearly dead. No gloating on Reacher's part because beating the shit out of people is what he does. You got a problem with that? Not his problem.
Finally a character who doesn't lie awake worrying about all the bad guys he's put down. He's fine with who he is. The way he wanders without roots works for me. For instance his justification for buying new clothes rather than washing the old is one of the greatest things I've read in weeks. Hey, he says to himself, thirty bucks every few days is better than paying for a washing machine and dryer and a house and taxes.
I think I like his "so what?" attitude because I'd just finished listening to a standard cereal killer book and man, I'm getting tired of the anonymous killer's over-the-top POV in those books. There's always scenes that show how much he lurrrrrrves doing the killing and later on we learn how it all started when X parent did Y to him. BTDT
The loving description of the deaths is like porn. Those passages make me think whoa mama, this is skanky beyond any menage I've read. Of course the hero is better, stronger, faster etc, and the serial guy bites it in the end, so it's all okay morally. But still. The killing is vivid and I don't mean entirely yucky vivid either.
The serial man is always good at his MO too. I guess that's to make the killer a bigger threat and scarier, but then he's made intriguing, too. Just once I'd like to read about an incompetent overweight smelly serial killer who screws up the job.
Back to my man, Reacher. There were a couple of things that annoyed me about the book. The phrase "Reacher [or someone else] said nothing." was repeated a gazillion times and only a couple of times did I think all those "Reacher said nothing"s add up effectively to fit the scene of someone blabbing and him staying mum. Otherwise it felt like a "rosy fingers of dawn" moment, inserting a place-holder phrase that doesn't add much.
There was the lines about how "they'd be more likely to win the lottery than meet another car on that road" used twice. Once was more than enough. Aaand I'd guessed the bad guy almost at once. AND some of the language was simplistic and clunky rather than simplistic and elegant. But that's not really a lot of complaining on my part. It looks like I'm whining so I figure I should point out those are nit picks.
The way he kept asking the kid "are you ok?" make me laugh out loud. I immediately signed up for the next book in the series. (It's from the library, of course.) I have to wait and I don't wanna.
Wait. Hey. Of course, it just occurred to me that I read these after a long Miles Vorkosigan glom (yay for more Miles! I have to actually BUY the next few books which is a wrench, but I'm doing it) so it would have to be better than great to impress me. God, I love those Miles books. Thanks, JMC for recommending them.
But tradition is important too, and it's Monday. SBD, bitches.
I read a book -- or rather, I listened to one. It was my very first Lee Child Reacher book. Number five in the series, but I wasn't lost, which is great. I do like Reacher and I've decided he can get away with being a laconic killing machine because he doesn't get all angsty. The introspection is about as much as you'd expect from any normal sort of a person. So his life is basically like any0ne else's except he's nothing like anyone else.
When he beats a guy up, that guy stays DOWN. On the FLOOR, nearly dead. No gloating on Reacher's part because beating the shit out of people is what he does. You got a problem with that? Not his problem.
Finally a character who doesn't lie awake worrying about all the bad guys he's put down. He's fine with who he is. The way he wanders without roots works for me. For instance his justification for buying new clothes rather than washing the old is one of the greatest things I've read in weeks. Hey, he says to himself, thirty bucks every few days is better than paying for a washing machine and dryer and a house and taxes.
I think I like his "so what?" attitude because I'd just finished listening to a standard cereal killer book and man, I'm getting tired of the anonymous killer's over-the-top POV in those books. There's always scenes that show how much he lurrrrrrves doing the killing and later on we learn how it all started when X parent did Y to him. BTDT
The loving description of the deaths is like porn. Those passages make me think whoa mama, this is skanky beyond any menage I've read. Of course the hero is better, stronger, faster etc, and the serial guy bites it in the end, so it's all okay morally. But still. The killing is vivid and I don't mean entirely yucky vivid either.
The serial man is always good at his MO too. I guess that's to make the killer a bigger threat and scarier, but then he's made intriguing, too. Just once I'd like to read about an incompetent overweight smelly serial killer who screws up the job.
Back to my man, Reacher. There were a couple of things that annoyed me about the book. The phrase "Reacher [or someone else] said nothing." was repeated a gazillion times and only a couple of times did I think all those "Reacher said nothing"s add up effectively to fit the scene of someone blabbing and him staying mum. Otherwise it felt like a "rosy fingers of dawn" moment, inserting a place-holder phrase that doesn't add much.
There was the lines about how "they'd be more likely to win the lottery than meet another car on that road" used twice. Once was more than enough. Aaand I'd guessed the bad guy almost at once. AND some of the language was simplistic and clunky rather than simplistic and elegant. But that's not really a lot of complaining on my part. It looks like I'm whining so I figure I should point out those are nit picks.
The way he kept asking the kid "are you ok?" make me laugh out loud. I immediately signed up for the next book in the series. (It's from the library, of course.) I have to wait and I don't wanna.
Wait. Hey. Of course, it just occurred to me that I read these after a long Miles Vorkosigan glom (yay for more Miles! I have to actually BUY the next few books which is a wrench, but I'm doing it) so it would have to be better than great to impress me. God, I love those Miles books. Thanks, JMC for recommending them.
November 2, 2010
happy release day to us!
The Nobleman and The Spy is now available at Loose Id. This is Bonnie's announcement to her yahoo fan group**:Summer and I are really enjoying writing these historicals. [ed's note: This is true. Co-writing with Bonnie is more fun than a St Patrick's Day party in a Boston bar.] Hope you like them too.
They once faced each other on a battlefield. Now soldier-turned-spy Jonathan Reese must keep watch over the man he's never forgotten. A close encounter reveals Karl von Binder, the count's son, also recalls the day he spared Jonathan's life. Sparks fly between the former enemies and Jonathan begins to lose perspective on his mission. He knows he must maintain distance because the heat he encounters in Karl's touch stirs him far too deeply for his own good. He can't keep away--especially when he suspects someone is trying to kill the nobleman.
The spy becomes a protector as Jonathan guards the man he's begun to care for. Together the men try to puzzle out who would benefit from Karl's death—and how much they're willing to trust each other when a torrid sexual fling threatens to become an affair of the heart.
**yes, I'm a member.
November 1, 2010
SBD London is the Best City In America
A fun book. The various conflicts seemed weak-ish (which is surprising, since they're built into the plot) the goals not there (that was the point, actually) but I liked it. The voice and, to a certain extent the situation, reminded me of a fluffier Ann Tyler. The people are richer and less neurotic.
The first person narrator didn't annoy me, even when Emmy (that narrator) seemed annoyed with herself. Though she and her brother, Josh, might have been caught in high school worthy dramas, the view was usually fairly interesting. We watch them grow up a bit, become less passive.
The initial situation is Emmy walks out on her fiance and then stays in Narragansett, where they'd been staying the night. She stalls out and drifts along. I wished there was more about the community of fishermen and their wives--that sounded more interesting than Scarsdale where the action takes place. But part of the point of the book is that she doesn't understand those people and apparently isn't capable of it at that point in her life. She has to go back to her roots, Scarsdale (!) to figure stuff out. Sort of. Figure it out, I mean. Mostly she finally gets that it's time to move on and she sees a train and jumps it (not literally, okay? It's not that kind of a book).
There's a 16 year old in story that seemed way more open to other people and friendlier to adult strangers than most 16 year olds I know---certainly more mature than most of the other characters in the book. She's the one person I didn't quite believe. And then there's Josh's Other Woman who's also too perfect. We're supposed to love both of the women he's involved with, but I'm not convinced we see enough of them to be as in love as Emmy and her brother or maybe the two women are too perfect.
I appreciated the fact that Josh and Emmy love each other and their parents and come from a secure, happy family (they don't seem to get that's why they're allowed to screw up their lives and still remain basically secure). It's a nice change. I do sort of wish there hadn't been happiness waiting for them that they can fall into, rather than work for, but hey, that's fine. This is the sort of book I'd like to read when I'm feeling like the universe is too harsh. It's not pure escapist fluff fun of a romance, but it's cheerier than a bunch of books like it.
Here's the basic point: I enjoyed the bejeebus out of the author's voice and will actively hunt for her other books.
So. That's my SBD. Now I have to figure out why my phone is broken. This real life thing is annoying.
The first person narrator didn't annoy me, even when Emmy (that narrator) seemed annoyed with herself. Though she and her brother, Josh, might have been caught in high school worthy dramas, the view was usually fairly interesting. We watch them grow up a bit, become less passive.
The initial situation is Emmy walks out on her fiance and then stays in Narragansett, where they'd been staying the night. She stalls out and drifts along. I wished there was more about the community of fishermen and their wives--that sounded more interesting than Scarsdale where the action takes place. But part of the point of the book is that she doesn't understand those people and apparently isn't capable of it at that point in her life. She has to go back to her roots, Scarsdale (!) to figure stuff out. Sort of. Figure it out, I mean. Mostly she finally gets that it's time to move on and she sees a train and jumps it (not literally, okay? It's not that kind of a book).
There's a 16 year old in story that seemed way more open to other people and friendlier to adult strangers than most 16 year olds I know---certainly more mature than most of the other characters in the book. She's the one person I didn't quite believe. And then there's Josh's Other Woman who's also too perfect. We're supposed to love both of the women he's involved with, but I'm not convinced we see enough of them to be as in love as Emmy and her brother or maybe the two women are too perfect.
I appreciated the fact that Josh and Emmy love each other and their parents and come from a secure, happy family (they don't seem to get that's why they're allowed to screw up their lives and still remain basically secure). It's a nice change. I do sort of wish there hadn't been happiness waiting for them that they can fall into, rather than work for, but hey, that's fine. This is the sort of book I'd like to read when I'm feeling like the universe is too harsh. It's not pure escapist fluff fun of a romance, but it's cheerier than a bunch of books like it.
Here's the basic point: I enjoyed the bejeebus out of the author's voice and will actively hunt for her other books.
So. That's my SBD. Now I have to figure out why my phone is broken. This real life thing is annoying.
October 28, 2010
NaNoWriMo! Yup. It's coming along any minute. You doing i...
NaNoWriMo! Yup. It's coming along any minute. You doing it? I'm trying, again.
No more twitter, no more facebook. Just me and this story. Failing that, me and these Lois McMaster Bujolds I got from the library.
Glomming when the words don't come is acceptable. I have that on good authority.
Here's what doesn't work for me: looking around to see what other writers are doing -- even though that's what NaNo seems to be about.
No more twitter, no more facebook. Just me and this story. Failing that, me and these Lois McMaster Bujolds I got from the library.
Glomming when the words don't come is acceptable. I have that on good authority.
Here's what doesn't work for me: looking around to see what other writers are doing -- even though that's what NaNo seems to be about.
October 21, 2010
October 20, 2010
psychopaths, sociopaths and you
We were arguing about the difference between psychopath and sociopath last night at dinner. (Alex argued no difference at all, Tom and I thought that a sociopath was someone who hadn't acted in an antisocial manner and psychopath was a sociopath who'd gone of the rails. Mike thought it was time to talk about something else.) and I started thinking about the socio-psychopaths I've known. (insert standard "you can't get to be ___ years old without running into and dealing with these people")
There are the dumb ones--or the not well disguised ones, I mean. They're the type who get into trouble and it's never their fault. They're easy to spot--well, easier than the other sort--because they play victim every time anything goes wrong. I met quite a few among the refugees and wonder if they were turned into that sort of person because of the horrors they'd seen or if they were the type of person who'd be likely to survive the horrors.**
But then there are the ones who can run a con of a life for years. And they can leave you speculating that you don't know anyone at all. The very best can make you wonder if you yourself have a life based on lies and if you yourself are a sociopath at heart. There is no grounded reality after you've dealt with one of them.
The best are sweet (but not chokingly so) charming and tuned into the people around them. They never seem lose their place in their personal narrative. Never. Ever. Even when the game falls apart, as the unalterable facts are laid out, they can stare you in the face and give an entirely plausible explanation, or one that would be plausible if you hadn't seen the same thing happen over and over in their lives. I'm convinced that they can make themselves blind to their own actions, or turn those actions into something trivial or justified.
I've figured out a few guidelines to spotting the sociopaths who'll suck people dry:
1. There are a lot of people in their past who inexplicably don't seem to like them. They'll tell an amusing story about some dear friends and when you ask, where are those friends today, they say "Oh, we've lost track of each other. I have no idea what they're doing." Or "They stabbed me in the back. They hate me and I honestly don't know what I did wrong because they won't talk to me."
2. They live in the moment. There seems to be very little planning for the future. Or if there is, it's unrealistic.
3. They don't stay put in an apartment/place for more than a couple of years.
4. They've lost track of many (if not all) of their family members. If anyone's left it's probably a mother or father because, god bless parents, they tend to cling even after everyone else walked away.
5. They disappear for chunks of time. Maybe a couple of weeks here or there. Or even a year.
You can actually be friends with these people because they really do listen and respond. They are fun. Just for God's sake, don't lend them money or become dependent on them for anything. Expect to be abandoned once you figure out the truth. And then, if you're inhabit small world, the stories will filter back to you, all about how you inexplicably dropped your good friend.
Or, if they're vindictive (the best aren't because that'll bite them and they keep their eyes on the prize) there will be lies spread about you. The worst are when they spread distorted truths about you. Outright lies are just silly, easy to shrug off, but the mangled truths can be dangerous. That's one of the ways you end up wondering if you're the one who has been distorting truth this whole time. It's only when you run into other people who've been through the sociopath's wringer that you can set yourself straight.
I don't think this last has happened to me. (If it has, I'm blessedly ignorant of it) But I have met enemies of a sociopath who'd been described as dreadful assholes who turned out to be perfectly reasonable people who'd eventually asked for their loan back.
_____________
**They were NOT the majority of the refugees I met. Okay?
There are the dumb ones--or the not well disguised ones, I mean. They're the type who get into trouble and it's never their fault. They're easy to spot--well, easier than the other sort--because they play victim every time anything goes wrong. I met quite a few among the refugees and wonder if they were turned into that sort of person because of the horrors they'd seen or if they were the type of person who'd be likely to survive the horrors.**
But then there are the ones who can run a con of a life for years. And they can leave you speculating that you don't know anyone at all. The very best can make you wonder if you yourself have a life based on lies and if you yourself are a sociopath at heart. There is no grounded reality after you've dealt with one of them.
The best are sweet (but not chokingly so) charming and tuned into the people around them. They never seem lose their place in their personal narrative. Never. Ever. Even when the game falls apart, as the unalterable facts are laid out, they can stare you in the face and give an entirely plausible explanation, or one that would be plausible if you hadn't seen the same thing happen over and over in their lives. I'm convinced that they can make themselves blind to their own actions, or turn those actions into something trivial or justified.
I've figured out a few guidelines to spotting the sociopaths who'll suck people dry:
1. There are a lot of people in their past who inexplicably don't seem to like them. They'll tell an amusing story about some dear friends and when you ask, where are those friends today, they say "Oh, we've lost track of each other. I have no idea what they're doing." Or "They stabbed me in the back. They hate me and I honestly don't know what I did wrong because they won't talk to me."
2. They live in the moment. There seems to be very little planning for the future. Or if there is, it's unrealistic.
3. They don't stay put in an apartment/place for more than a couple of years.
4. They've lost track of many (if not all) of their family members. If anyone's left it's probably a mother or father because, god bless parents, they tend to cling even after everyone else walked away.
5. They disappear for chunks of time. Maybe a couple of weeks here or there. Or even a year.
You can actually be friends with these people because they really do listen and respond. They are fun. Just for God's sake, don't lend them money or become dependent on them for anything. Expect to be abandoned once you figure out the truth. And then, if you're inhabit small world, the stories will filter back to you, all about how you inexplicably dropped your good friend.
Or, if they're vindictive (the best aren't because that'll bite them and they keep their eyes on the prize) there will be lies spread about you. The worst are when they spread distorted truths about you. Outright lies are just silly, easy to shrug off, but the mangled truths can be dangerous. That's one of the ways you end up wondering if you're the one who has been distorting truth this whole time. It's only when you run into other people who've been through the sociopath's wringer that you can set yourself straight.
I don't think this last has happened to me. (If it has, I'm blessedly ignorant of it) But I have met enemies of a sociopath who'd been described as dreadful assholes who turned out to be perfectly reasonable people who'd eventually asked for their loan back.
_____________
**They were NOT the majority of the refugees I met. Okay?
