Reesa Herberth's Blog, page 10

Dear Amazon

(For those wondering, this relates to the recent decision by Amazon to pull a book called “The Flesh Cartel” from their shelves.  I can’t be there for every book, but this one I caught wind of, and wrote to them about.  You can read more about the book and Amazon’s decision to pull it here.  In the interest of full disclosure, I did buy a copy elsewhere, but might not read it.  It’s not my thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not someone else’s. – R)

Dear Amazon Customer Service,

Amazon’s decision to pull a recent release, The Flesh Cartel, by Heidi Belleau and Rachel Haimowitz, does, of course, fall within your rights as a company to decide what products to carry.  However, as an adult consumer, a reader of banned books, and a lifelong anti-censorship advocate, I have serious issues with Amazon’s increasingly bungled campaign to limit access to books with LGBTQ and erotic content, while carrying their heterosexual counterparts without issue or interference.

I don’t need or want Amazon to protect me from content which I might find objectionable, nor do I wish my purchases from you to be limited by what others feel I should be allowed to read.  I’m an adult, as are a majority of your customers.  If something is offensive to me, I don’t have to read it.  But I don’t have the right to make that decision for ANY other adult, nor do I wish to support a company who feels that limiting access to books is the way to sell them and support the book-loving community.  I hope Amazon will begin to recognize that your monopoly on the book market should obligate you to fight the same battle against censorship that libraries have taken on.  A richer marketplace benefits everyone, and if nothing else, offers you more products to sell.

I ask that Amazon please reconsider their increasing policy of censorship, in particular as it regards The Flesh Cartel.  Your job is to sell me books, not protect me from them.

Sincerely,

S. Reesa Herberth

WTAF Is Wrong With You?

THIS POST CONTAINS NON-GRAPHIC DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT

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Sometimes I feel the need to abandon my usually refined demeanor to ask a simple question.

What the ACTUAL FUCK is wrong with people?

For those with no link-clicking interest, let me summarize. Someone asked Seanan McGuire when one of the (female) characters in her books was “finally” going to be raped.

I’ll leave you with that for a moment. Let it marinade your brain. Let the word “finally”, the inevitable, the given, the anticipation, stew for a second.

I want to state that I’m not making judgement calls about what anyone chooses to read. If you enjoy something, and you’re not hurting someone with it, go for it. But that’s not at all what this question was about. The person asking in this instance went on to say that it was unrealistic of Ms. McGuire to not write one of her characters being raped. While the estimate that one in six women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime is a pretty stark case for some form of sexual violence taking place in even the altered version of the world she writes about, that doesn’t mean ANY of the following things are also true:

That Ms. McGuire must show any character becoming the victim of sexual assault
That she’s not being true to her readership by not writing about the sexual assault of one of her characters
The the questioner, who also made suggestions about how such events could occur in the course of one of Ms. McGuire’s books has ANY right to dictate what she does or does not write about

And I think, most of all

That the way to bring down, or humanize, or punish, or strengthen, or build up a female protagonist is to “finally” write her rape

Rape and other forms of sexual violence aren’t shorthand for character development. They aren’t a convenient way to get yourself out of a corner you wrote yourself into. They are not, in fact, the “Then, suddenly, ninjas!” of the character landscape. Character growth occurs when a character understands something new about their situation. Sure, that can be spurred by overcoming a terrible event and moving forward as a changed person. I like reading about survivors, and in fact, my own personal taste runs to well-written survivor stories, when I find them. I can understand wanting to draw upon the strength portrayed by a favourite character, wanting to see inspiration in the face of horror.

What I refuse to accept is the idea that someone’s personal journey is inevitable simply because of their gender, as though there’s some checklist for female characters. “Hit puberty: check. Fall in love: check. Finally get raped: check.”

Bullshit.

Writers are going to write the stories that work for them, hoping they connect with other people. There’s a depressingly large group of readers (and writers) for whom sexual assault was or is a reality. Some of them never want to think about it again, some of them want or need to read (or write) about overcoming it, and there are a thousand shades of emotional response sandwiched in between those two. I won’t argue for either side, because all of it is valid, and right, and necessary for the person living that life.

But you can be damn sure that if you think the word “finally” applies to any character’s sexual assault, I want nothing to do with you.

33 Things You Could Do For My Birthday

I’m really not hard to shop for, so if you’re the sort of person (Hi, Mom!) who is going to buy me a gift, you’re probably already set.  On the other hand, if you wanted to do something out of the ordinary, and think of me for a second while you do, might I suggest something from the following list?

 Sing, out loud.  In your car, in your shower, in your office. It’s fun.
 Hold the door for someone, even if they’re at that awkward “not really close enough to have to” distance.
Say “thank you kindly”, because it tickles me.
Find something that makes you laugh.
Volunteer for something that will help someone else, even if you think you don’t have anything to offer.
Buy a book.
Listen to some new music.  These are some of my favourites from Empires, The Decemberists, Heather Dale, Robots and Racecars, Heathers, or Of Monsters and Men)
Tell me about a song I should hear.
Share your favourite recipe. (I’m allergic to nuts.)
Create something. I’d love to see it.
Check out the amazing jewelry my friend Rain makes – http://www.etsy.com/shop/honeyandollie
Read my favourite Onion article of all time – http://www.theonion.com/articles/all-yall-urged-to-go-fuck-yo-selves,3987/
Donate something to Heifer International, Doctors Without Borders, or the Electronic Frontier Foundation.
Plant something.  Trees are cool.
Buy coffee for the person behind you in line.
Tell someone who you think has their shit together that you admire them.  I guarantee you they could stand to hear it.
That thing?  The one that’s still hurting you?  Know that it wasn’t your fault.
If something was your fault, apologize to the person you hurt. Just say, “I’m sorry.” Accept that they don’t have to forgive you.
Write someone you love a note, and hide it somewhere they’ll find it.
Have a cupcake.  Or, whatever you-appropriate treat that you really enjoy.
Buy one of my books.
If you’ve read one of my books and enjoyed it, tell someone else about them, or write a review. I would appreciate it.
If you’re feeling down, or alone in your problems, introduce yourself to the fabulous group of people at Band Back Together.
Find a great album. Put it on your stereo, then lie down somewhere, close your eyes, and listen to all of it, with your whole self.
Read The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal, because it’s AWESOME. (Caution, some parts are NSFW, but are marked.)
Watch The Avengers gag reel. Like I have. About 20 times.
Create a transformative fanwork.  Art, fanfic, a vid- it’ll be awesome, I’m sure.
Tell an author (or other artist!) you liked their work! Everyone loves fan mail!
Ask me something about my writing process, or one of my stories.
Make plans to visit Big Island, Hawaii, my childhood stomping grounds. Not right away- but some day. It’s worth it.
Share a joke.
Show me something amazing.
Tell me about your latest project.

 

It’s In A Book

Reading Rainbow and the RIF (Reading Is Fundamental) program both made books an active part of my childhood.  They were the only exposure to reading for pleasure that a lot of kids in my class ever had.  The loss of Reading Rainbow,  and the RIF program in many areas (sadly, mostly in poor areas where there simply isn’t funding anymore) is a huge blow to an entire generation of kids.   Knowing how to read isn’t the same thing as -wanting- to read.  It’s not the same as understanding that reading can teach you how to think for yourself, can show you an entire world (worlds!) beyond the narrow scope of your daily experience.

I have to wonder, in the cynical corner of my mind I reserve for imagining our dystopian future, if that isn’t the point.  If reading is something you only do for work, if it represents drudgery and routine, instead of nearly limitless possibility, I think we lose an entire generation of thinkers.  We turn them, instead, into a generation of people who wait for answers to come to them, who don’t believe they are capable of answering life’s questions themselves.  We make learning less important than being told.

Mr. Burton is right- we’re sacrificing our kids.

Yo Ho, Yo Ho, a Pirate’s Life For Me

I just chided a sweet young thing about uploading books and asking for file shares of others.  She went on and on about how she just LOVED these books, and she really wanted to read the other one, and how much she loved the authors.  My answer was, “You know, if you really want to support these authors you love so much, maybe you should do them the favour of -buying- their books.”

I still fall into the Gaiman camp on this, in that I believe someone who is downloading your book is not someone who was ever going to buy it.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t try planting that seed in the mind of someone who truly doesn’t connect “art/music/book I love!” with “This has value to me, and I should pay for it.”  Maybe, in a better world, they’ll pay for the next one.

Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I was just written off as some ancient hag who doesn’t understand how hard it is to want something and not own it yet.  I’m okay with that.

Crazy Faith? Or Too Much Ego?

A question I never thought I’d be able to even ask. I’m the Queen of No Confidence Land, and I’ve been ruling for quite a while now. I like to think of myself as a benevolent ruler, keeping the needs of the country balanced with my own… but I digress. The point is, I’ve started having some crazy faith in myself, and it’s pretty freakin’ terrifying.

New boss at the Day Job and how did I introduce myself/my team? “I can guarantee that we’re the best team you’ve ever worked with.” The expression on my teammates’ faces was priceless. But it was true and I believed it. Believed it enough to convince someone else of it.

If you’ve been keeping up with Reesa and me, you know Peripheral People got a turn down and we’ve been bummed. But not nearly as down as I thought I’d be, and honestly, I’m more puzzled than bummed. I BELIEVE in this book. I know it’s good. I have absolutely no doubts.

So why am I asking myself if it’s crazy faith? Or too much ego?

There Is Power In Shared Stories

The recent commentary on what constitutes “real” rape make me sick.  The survivor stories that people are sharing have been powerful, disgustingly numerous, and hard to read.  There are so many stories.  There are so many people who have been hurt.

At the same time, those stories make me wonder- why do we live in a world where rape victims are pressed to prove their credentials?  I don’t mean any offense to anyone sharing their story.  I mean offense to anyone who thinks they have the right to demand that a victim of sexual assault be violated in the way THEY deem worthy, bad enough, life-altering enough to matter.

And so I wonder, how many people sharing these stories are feeling like they have to prove their assaults mattered?  Hell, I’ve been challenged on my claims by a therapist I was seeing, a mental health professional whom I trusted, and I stuttered through my proof like I owed it to him.

I don’t know if I’ve spent another week in recent memory living this close to my assaults.  But when I hear ignorant, powerful men telling the world, again, that some stories don’t matter, that some victims don’t count, you can bet I’m angry.  You can count on the fact that all of those stories are told in one voice, growing louder by the minute.  While it’s horrifying how many people can tell the same story, each and every one of them, and all the people who can’t or won’t or don’t, are real.  And we don’t have to prove it to anyone.

The Road to There

Pretty much anyone who listens to me in any forum for more than 10 minutes know I’m a huge music fan.  Music inspires nearly everything I do, especially writing.  I pull images from the melodies other people craft.  Sometimes, I lie on the floor of my room, staring at the ceiling and listening to an entire album, chasing down the ghosts in their words and my own.

It’s been a long time since a band hit me like Mumford and Sons, and I’m really looking forward to their new album.  I think there’s an understanding in their music, that sometimes it doesn’t matter if you know where you’re going, as long as you keep moving. It’s certainly a theme I’ve carried over into my recent work, and something that’s run through the heart of several of my favourite characters.  Keep moving.  Keep going.  Keep trying.  And so we do.

Music has taken me down all kinds of roads I never would have found otherwise, and I’ve never been anything but grateful for the trip.  I’d love to hear about some of your favourites, the songs or people who keep you moving down the road to there.  In the meantime, you can hear one of mine.

They Will Know Me By the Trail of My Post-its

I’m not sure if I should hope to be judged by my desk if I suddenly drop dead, or hope nobody takes me seriously.

(With apologies to Boyd Bauer, who is very much alive, and also a cat. One of the few who doesn’t live in my house.)

What clues to your personality are hiding in your work space? (Hint: I’d love to see photos.)

Random Ylendrian Facts

In The Slipstream Con, when Kellen is injured, he sings a song about a seal lord and a human bride.  Tal and Vanya don’t recognize the song, but if they did, they’d be able to trace it back to Kellen’s homeworld- a bit of information Kellen hasn’t shared with anyone since he left it.

If you’re wondering where the inspiration for the song came from, take a listen to Heather Dale’s “The Maiden and the Selkie”.  (And pick up her album The Green Knight, which is fabulous.)