Reesa Herberth's Blog, page 8

“We are the ones who run towards, not away.”

I have a conflicted opinion about Anonymous that I’ve never been able to reconcile to my liking, but I believe these words are worth sharing. – Reesa

This is a message to everyone , everywhere. Pass this message on.

“In the coming days we will have our heartstrings pulled and our humanity questioned. In the wake of the tragedy in Boston while we contemplate, information share, cry outrage and shame, and wave our tear stained fists at the sky something else is happening. While we are in mourning, there are those plotting to seize advantage of us. While you are reading this someone, somewhere is creating a ‘ribbon campaign’, another person is warming up the presses to make t-shirts and stickers, and yet another is formulating a plan for a fake donation system. While these people plot and plan there are others who are sitting at their desks crafting their words to use this tragedy to their own ends. They will question your charity, your patriotism, your beliefs and you actions or lack thereof. Until you come to their point of view they will not stop. You will see pictures of the dead and the dying, the maimed and the broken, the aftermath and the accused.

Turn a blind eye to this. Demand truth and do not give over to empty symbolic gestures driven by profiteering and greed feeding off of tragedy. When you give of yourself, give to those who need it directly. When you write, write as if you were the family, you were the victim, as if it was you who was killed. Do not let the mass media propaganda machine poison a single mind that you have access to. Do not let the conspiracy theorists with their outrageous speculations and sponsors sucker you into buying duct tape and plastic while stuck to your radio. Mourn the dead. Help the living. Educate the ignorant. Most importantly show that this and every other tragedy of it’s like will not polarize you to the ‘left’ or the ‘right’ but to the humanity. To every person who has died in this way. To every person who is wounded this way. To every person on their knees in anguish. The message to you is “We hear you. We will help you”. When you speak let your voice mean something. When you speak , speak with knowledge, wisdom, facts, and as much serenity as you can muster. Do not speak in anger, fear, hatred, or any other emotion that will only feed the monster that created this tragedy. You are better than this. Together we are better than this. We are the ones who run towards, not away. We are the gateway to a future where this does not happen, by sacrificing of ourselves in the now when it does happen. Do not let your act, your words, your sacrifices be in vain. Do not let the profiteers feed on this tragedy. Do not let the truth go unheard. Do not let this go unanswered, but do not let the answer be yet another act of needless violence against innocents. To paraphrase the words of William Shakespeare ; We are like stars, and while some of us may fall, our sky will not want. “ – Anonymous Operations

The Pokey Little Blogger

I’m having one of those weeks where it feels like I keep missing something terribly important, but nobody will tell me what it IS.

I’m convinced there’s a doorway to somewhere amazing around a corner I didn’t turn, and I don’t know if that’s optimism or pessimism.

Roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble, I will keep wandering around until I find whatever it is I’m looking for.  I’m resilient like that.

In good news updates:

My Mom had surgery on her foot, and it went swimmingly.  Well, not really, because she’s not allowed to get it wet for a couple weeks, but it went better than the surgeon had hoped.

Burke, our tiny sick cat, is responding well to the steroid treatments for her autoimmune disease.  She’s putting on weight, the colour has come back to her ears and gums, and she’s gone from docile and mouthy to mouthy and looking at us in a way that clearly implies she’ll be having NONE of this crap from us, thank you.  It’s good to see her bouncing back, after hearing the worst from a vet and having that turn out not to be true. Thank you to everyone who spared a kind word or thought for her.

And tomorrow, I have a lung scan, which should confirm that all the clots are gone, leading up to me getting OFF this vile medication I’ve been taking.  (Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful it exists, and thrilled it seemed to work for me.  But MAN the side effects suck.)

So what’s good in your world?  Share the joy!

 

Of Cats and Counting Words

If you follow either of us on twitter (@reesah and @marigotc, respectively), you’ve probably seen us mention a health crisis one of our cats is having.  In November of 2011, we stole rescued a litter of feral kittens from our backyard, sweetened them up, and got them adopted out to various friends and family members.  Except for two, Widget and Burke, who stayed with us.  Because we’re huge suckers.

Miss BurkeBurke Kittenpants, wild and free. Seriously, could you say no to that face?

Miss Burke, at only a year and a half old, has been losing weight, and as she is one of our permakittens(tm), she didn’t have it to lose.  We’ve been round and round, through a dozen tests, a blood transfusion, riding the cancer/not cancer roller coaster.  It’s exhausting, and as awful as it seems to us, I can only imagine how it must be for her.

We’ve been working slowly on our current projects- In Discretion, a Ylendrian Empire story about secrets and the people who keep them, and Inside Job, a sequel (of indeterminate length) to The Slipstream Con.  Wordcount isn’t where we want it to be, but we’re still making progress.  Which reminds me, I should go make progress.

If you wanted to send a good thought or two towards the improved health of Miss BurkeBurke, it would be appreciated.

Et tu, Spring?

Really now, Spring?  This is how you’re gonna play it?

 

 

 

 

 

Seems like the perfect afternoon to coddle a migraine and attempt to get some writing done.  The new Ylendrian Empire story, In Discretion, is jamming along nicely.  We have achieved infection.  Next up, Unsettling Feelings From the Past.

Provided my cats don’t smother me with their blubber glee when I get home, that is.

There is also the rumour of frickles this evening.  Should this happen, I will no doubt become a filthy frickle flaunter on twitter.  Brace yourselves.

Writing Tools: Coffitivity

It’s no secret that I spend a lot of my time keeping Starbucks in business.  For one thing, I really like coffee (if you’re about to ask “then why do you go to Starbucks?”, stop right there, please), for another, it provides the mental break in my day that I need to refocus my energy towards writing.

I’m easily distractible at the best of times, and if there’s a tv on, my eyes are naturally drawn to it.  I write well with music on, but I can’t listen to music instead of a tv (and I live with other people, who are usually inclined to watch it in the evenings), so my options are hiding in my room, or finding somewhere else to work.  The ambient noise in a coffee shop is great for my focus.  There, but not anything I have to pay attention to, and just enough buzz to force me into ignoring it.

In that vein, I offer you the joy that is Coffitivity.  All the background noise of a coffee shop, with none of the jockeying for a seat near an outlet!  They suggest that you set the volume of Coffitivity just below that of your music to provide the same level of ambient noise you’d get at a coffee shop.  I’ve tried it a couple times now, both as background noise in my own (largely silent) office, and running below my music.  It works!  The beta is free, and I was surprised at how easily I adapted to using it while I was working.  I highly recommend giving it a shot.  (Thanks to Carl for the tip!)

Moderate ambient noise is proven to boost creativity.

Influence and Archetypes

3. Allow your influences to shape your voice, not drown it.

Creativity is borrowed. None of us formed our thoughts in a vacuum, and all of us were subject to a myriad of different models. Inspiration lives inside us, and our subconscious never forgets. We need not copy our heroes, their hand is always there to guide us.

(From 10 Ways to Avoid Writing Insecurity)

I am perpetually second-guessing my inspiration.  I make playlists for almost everything I write, then wonder if I’ve drawn too heavily on the musical themes.  I pick out people to provide a rough physical representation of a character, then worry that I’m borrowing too many mannerisms.  I’m inspired by archetypes and tropes almost endlessly, for the fun of twisting them to my own skewed vision of the world and setting them loose again.  I worry that my ideas aren’t new, that my pop culture filter isn’t of a fine enough mesh to weed out wholesale theft.

This kind of insecurity feeds a case of Faker Syndrome like fertilizer feeds a garden.  Beautiful things will grow, vegetables will flourish, and every time someone takes a bite, you will wait for them to voice what you secretly fear- that whatever you’ve handed them, as transformed and amazing as it may be, is still full of shit.

Here’s the truth: My ideas are just as new as yours, or anyone else’s.  Which is to say, they aren’t.  If it’s under the sun, it’s been written about, and that’s okay.

Write about your bad boys with a heart of gold, your competent, deadly women, your perpetual jokers.  Bring on the battered heroes, the reluctant revolutionaries, and yes, the girls next door, but for the love of little narwhals, please make them your own.  That’s why your idea is worth writing, after all.  It’s your spin on the same story everyone wants to tell that makes it new, and worth reading.

Being ashamed of your inspiration does nothing to build better writing.  Nobody can tell you’ve got Nickelback on your playlist if what you’ve made is better than what you borrowed.  Honestly, nobody can tell anyway, but you’ll probably convince yourself they can, if you’re looking for a way to hamstring your progress.  Filing the serial numbers off someone else’s work isn’t going to fly.  Finding your angle, creating layer upon layer of the things you love, your borrowed shiny parts of everything you find value in, every story you wish was a little different, that’s going to get you somewhere.  Maybe somewhere you never thought you’d wind up, telling the story your way.

Charity of the Month

We have six feral rescue cats at our house. Malcolm and Zoe were born under a dumpster behind a Home Depot in DC. Quinn was born in a colony in Northern Neck, Virginia and rescued from certain death. Burke, Widget and Loki are all home-grown ferals, right from our own backyard. And speaking of home-grown ferals, we have four in our colony… LB, Blackheart, Mr. Wednesday and Ghost.

All this talk of feral kitties brings me to my charity of the month. Alley Cat Allies is one of the biggest sponsors of TNR (trap, neuter, return) when it comes to feral cat colonies. They offer training and support to people with feral populations, and lobby for protection of cats. Good cause, good people.

http://www.alleycat.org/

 

 

Just Browsing

I grew up in Hawaii, mostly in two teensy little towns, Keaau and Pahoa.

This is downtown Pahoa, Hawaii. I don’t know where they hid all the hippies while they were taking this picture, but I’m sure if you sniff your screen, you can still smell the patchouli. (Photo by Alex Avriette)

Our nearest “big town” was Hilo, where you could find TWO McDonald’s, a Little Caesar’s (PizzaPizza!), the minigolf/waterslide where rich kids had their birthday parties, and a full one and a half malls.  Happy was the day when Kaiko’o Pet finally moved to Prince Kuhio Plaza, and we no longer had to beg to drive lo those many miles (all 2.2 of them) to stare at the fish.  Happier still, the tiny little indie bookstore moved into Prince Kuhio, and I could finally divide my time between them and Waldenbooks.  Two, two, TWO glorious bookstores, in one place!

My Mom worked for a local furniture store at the time (for those in the know- the one owned by the Aussie who did his own tv commercials), and it was a short hop across the Hilo Hattie’s parking lot and an empty field, in the doors through possibly the last Woolworth’s in the country, and around two corners to the (at the time) sprawling expanse of BOOKS.  My pace would quicken (not enough to be yelled at or possibly detained by a security guard), I’d practically hold my breath, and then I’d set foot in the store, and everything would be just a little better with every step as I neared the back corner, where the fantasy and science fiction section lived on four whole shelves.  The store employees knew me- they would often save me promo items and ARCs- and nobody ever bothered me as I surveyed my potential kingdoms for hours at a time.  No matter what author I was interested in, or what series I was reading, I started with A, at the very beginning of the section, and my eyes scanned every single book, looking for anything new, anything special, anything that would make my tiny world, with its towns you could see from top to bottom without turning your head, a little bigger.

When we were still attending public school, we went to Keaau.  The best thing about that school was the library, because it wasn’t a school library, full of easy readers and picture books.  It was a full-fledged public library, with a real, computerized catalogue and inter-library loan from any of the other islands, even Oahu, where I was quite sure they kept all the books to themselves.

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This is where I used to not get beat up during recess and lunch. Also where I read the whole Banned Books Week cart, and earned tiny, free pizzas every summer.

The shelves here were my haven from bullying.  Top to bottom, front to back, carefully avoiding the children’s books.  I would search for a book like the last one I’d read, or a book about something outside my own head.  Sometimes for a book about why- why was I so sad, why didn’t anything make sense, why wasn’t magic real?  I learned how to shelve books properly here, and how fast I could run through those safe, tinted glass doors, into the open arms of those beloved bookshelves.  At the Hilo library, crouched low and inching along the cool tile floors, I read my way through the fantasy and science fiction section.  I discarded the boring books in my wake as I made a study of all the genre fiction deemed fit for the main public library on the island.  My Mom would sometimes have to call my name three or four times to break me out of my giddy daze, and we finally agreed that a tote bag a week was the only sensible option for my check outs.

I can find almost any book I want within seconds these days, and that’s amazing.  I love reading, and I love being able to read what I want without waiting for three weeks for the copy to come in from Kauai.  What I miss, aside from getting free personal pan pizzas for reading a book with chapters (look, we had low standards, okay?  Don’t judge.), is the anticipation, the breathless, anxious feeling in my chest as I rounded the corner to Waldenbooks.  Is it still there?  What if they sold the book I wanted to read?  What if they moved the section, and it’s smaller now?  What would they do with the books?  WHAT IF THEY WENT OUT OF BUSINESS AND NOBODY TOLD ME?

I miss not knowing what I was looking for, and finding it anyway.

 

 

Birthday dinner!

January Charity Spotlight – Medecines Sans Frontieres/Doctors Without Borders

Each month in 2013, we’ll be spotlighting a charity organization.  Large or small, we are interested in promoting the good work going on in the world.  If you’ve got a charity to recommend, please, drop us a line - ylendrianempire@gmail.com  We are particularly interested in highlighting the work of groups who work to elevate women, promote literacy, create sustainable agricultural opportunities in developing nations, aid children living in poverty, or support animal welfare.  - Reesa

Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) works in nearly 70 countries providing medical aid to those most in need regardless of their race, religion, or political affiliation.

You can learn more about their principles, work, and impact on their website.  You can see a breakdown of their financial operations on Charity Navigator.

In 2009, DWB/MSF treated nearly 8 million patients.  They offer trauma medicine, prenatal care, and childhood vaccinations to people who might otherwise die for want of basic medical care.  Many of the medical personnel who work with Doctors Without Borders donate their time, meaning that even more of the operating budget can go to medicine, vaccines, and equipment.  DWB/MSF provides medical care to any patient who needs it, in war zones, in poverty-stricken areas in the U.S. and abroad, during epidemics, and in the wake of natural disasters.  They are often one of the first aid groups on the ground, and some of the last to pull out.

If you’ve got a few dollars to spare, I urge you to investigate Doctors Without Borders, and donate if you are able.  Your $5 may very well save someone’s life.