Marie Sexton's Blog, page 7

I’m on Patreon!

I’ve been debating Patreon for months now. Today, I took the plunge. I can’t really say that I “decided” to join. It was more of a sudden, inexplicable desire to try something new. I’m freaking out about it a bit. I’m still not entirely sure it’s a good fit for me, but I guess I’ll never know until I try. And so…

I’ve decided to try.

If you’re interested in becoming a Patron, you can find me here. If you have no interest in becoming a Patron, that’s fine. I absolutely understand. I’m truly very grateful to any of you who have been kind enough to buy one of my books, whether you choose to sponsor me on Patreon or not.

If you *do* decide to become a Patron, just know that I’m anticipating a bit of a learning curve. I hope you’ll be patient as I bungle around, trying to figure out how it works.  

For Those Who Are Wondering…

Matt and Jared had a lovely Christmas, and are now cuddled up on the couch watching the game. Things aren’t as tense as they were when their teams played a couple of weeks ago. While Jared and I would never give up on our Broncos, we’re also realistic about our chances. If and when the Broncos are eliminated, we’ll side with Matt and be Chiefs fans for the postseason. (Just like Matt sided with us when the tables were turned last year.)

My family also had a wonderful Christmas, although we were short a brother-in-law. Hubby gave me the #1 item on my wish list — a new heavy duty sewing machine. I can’t wait to try it out, but it’ll have to wait until 2017, because first thing tomorrow morning, DD and I will begin the long drive to Louisiana to visit family.

The longer I’m away from Twitter, the less I miss it, but the boredom of driving through Kansas will be the real test.

Family-Friendly “Horror” Movies, Pennsylvania, and Holiday Wishes

Happy Holidays!!

Before I decided to write my soul-searching post, I’d been considering a post of an entirely different nature. I’m actually looking for suggestions on a couple of small things.

Family-Friendly Horror Movies?

My daughter, aged twelve, has been swept up in the Five Nights at Freddy’s mania. The problem is, they’ve announced a FNAF movie, to be released in 2018. Up until recently, DD had never watched a horror movie at all, but she’s determined to be ready to see this movie in theaters when it’s released. To this end, she essentially decided to go into training. Horror movie training, that is, with me as her coach.

The problem?

Well, I’m a big fan of horror movies, so I was ready and willing to help her out. But it turns out my idea of a “beginner” movie — Final Destination or Nightmare on Elm Street — was more than she could handle. So we’re taking a step back.

We need horror movies that aren’t quite horror movies.

So far, we’ve managed Coraline, Arachnophobia, and Watcher in the Woods. Tonight, we’re trying The Thing (the original — I figured the goofy special effects will nullify most of the horror). Other movies on our “to be watched” list include Tremors, Alien, and Beetlejuice. But after that, I’m sort of out of ideas.

So, I’m looking for suggestions: can you recommend a not-quite-horror movie that’s pretty low-key, and appropriate for a squeamish 12-year old?

Are You Familiar with Pennsylvania?

Also, I’d like to talk to somebody who’s familiar with Pennsylvania, but not necessarily Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. Specifically, I’m looking for somebody who knows the rural (I think it’s rural!) area around Altoona. So if you’re familiar with that region, please let me know. Maybe leave your email address, and I’ll get in touch sometime after the first of the year.

It’s That Time of Year

It’s always busy this time of year. I’m sure almost everybody reading this is in the same boat as me, wondering how it could possibly be Christmas already. Between hockey games, football games, holiday parties, a (very minor) upcoming surgery, and a trip to Louisiana to visit my uncle and grandmother, I feel like I won’t have a free minute until 2017.

Still, things are good. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving with the entire family. We threw a surprise party for my MIL’s 76th birthday (we totally missed her 75th, because we’re bad children — but this way, she was extra surprised). My daughter’s musical theater class just had their performances of Tom Sawyer this weekend, and she did great (she played Muff, the bank robber). DD’s also learning to bake, which is actually pretty amazing (even if it is bad for my waistline).

Giving Thanks
Cat Tree + Christmas Tree

I could make a list of the things I have to be grateful for, but it’d be lengthy. I’m thankful that my daughter is happy and healthy. (If only her grades were decent, she’d be perfect!) I’m glad to have my family close. I’m glad we can keep the home warm, have our entire family over for Thanksgiving dinner and/or Christmas brunch, and still put presents under the tree without having to stress. We’re not wealthy, by any stretch of the imagination, but we’re still “rich” in the ways that truly count. So I’m grateful for that.

Also, despite all my bellyaching over my career, please know that I am eternally grateful for every one of you who’s ever decided to take a chance on one of my books. I’m especially thankful to those of you who keep coming back for more. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here at all. I’d have had to go back to my EDJ (working for doctors) years ago. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to *not* be doing that.

Authenticity, Soul Searching, and What I’ve Learned from Mother Theresa

Background

When I first sat down back in the summer of 2009 and started writing about two guys named Matt and Jared, I had no idea what kind of journey I was starting. Yes, I was attempting — for the first time ever, really — to write a story. Yes, there was a tiny hope that maybe it’d turn out good enough to be published. There was a seedling of the idea that maybe this was what I was really meant to do with my life. But at no time did I have even an inkling of the type of soul-searching this career choice would create.

I’m starting this blog post without a clear idea of where it’s going (that’s nothing new), so please bear with me.

The last few years have been trying for me, and it’s been difficult to even grasp what was making it that way. But it was all sort of a downward spiral that culminated last January in the INdecision to quit writing.

Indecision?

I know that sentence doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it wasn’t a “decision,” really. It was indecision, all the way…

It’s like the other night. My husband and I were watching the Raiders versus the Chiefs on Thursday Night Football. (Hey, NFL? Nobody likes Thursday night games!) It was the end of the third quarter, and the Chiefs were up, but it looked like the Raiders might pull something together (or, to be more accurate, it looked like the Chiefs might decide to fumble it all away), and I said to my husband, “I can’t decide if I’m going to watch the fourth quarter, or go to bed.”

Fast forward forty-five minutes, when it’s suddenly the two-minute warning, and I’m still parked on the couch, thinking about going to bed. I realized I’d never actually made the decision to stay up and watch the end of the game. I’d spent the entire quarter trying to make up my mind, and as a result, saw the rest of the game anyway.

That’s kind of how it went with my indecision to quit writing. I never decided to quit, but my indecision carried me all the way from January to August, when I finally announced my “hiatus”. But all of it was a culmination of a battle I’d been fighting for two or three years – a battle to determine exactly why my career felt like slow death rather than accomplishment. 

Social Media

This isn’t about sales. It isn’t about money. It isn’t about reviews. People immediately assume that’s what I’m talking about, but it’s not. This was about the fact that sitting down at my computer each day felt like stabbing myself in the heart, and I didn’t know why.

One of the things that went along with my hiatus was my decision to step away from social media. I’ve known for a while now that social media poisons my well. But the exact why of that was harder to pin down. Yes, it’s full of rage and negativity, but there’s more to it than that.

You know that scene in Inside Out where the “opinions” and “facts” get all mixed up, and one of them says, “Oh, don’t worry. It happens all the time”? That’s how I feel every time I log into social media. Opinions are NOT facts, so why are we so determined to berate everybody who dares have one that differs from our own? Why can’t we just say, “I prefer Empire to Jedi,” rather than saying, “Only an ignorant moron would think Jedi is better”? Why are we so determined to dump shame onto anybody who dares disagree with us?

I realize sometimes these things are done purely for comic effect, but many times, they’re not. Many times, it’s quite clear the person behind the post or tweet really does believe that anybody with a differing opinion is an idiot. That’s a mindset I have very little patience for. Add that to the never-ending genre drama, and the folks who clearly run around on some kind of witch hunt, just waiting for an author to utter the wrong thing, and it makes me want to abandon social media completely.

Nonetheless…

The fact is, I like tweeting. I like that bit of connection with people. And so I’ve been trying very hard to reconcile my desire to be on certain social media sites with my knowledge that it’s destructive. How do I balance me — the actual, real ME, and my desire to connect with people — against Marie, and the fact that she doesn’t have the luxury of voicing her opinions?

I’ve talked about this in one way or another with a shitload of different people. Sometimes it helps, and sometimes I feel like I’m just dumping more poison down the well. But mostly, I think it’s been constructive.

The Gifts of Imperfection

On Friday, I read the book The Gifts of Imperfection, by Brené Brown, and pieces began to fall into place. The author talks about joy, and gratefulness. She talks about authenticity. She talks about belonging, versus fitting in.

The chapter that hit me hardest, maybe, was the one on cultivating authenticity. There’s a pretty sound argument to be made that we can’t have real connections with people if we can’t be our authentic selves with them, and this hit me right in the gut.

No wonder social media leaves me feeling so empty.

Whether or not anybody can make a “real” connection on Twitter or FB is a debate for another day, but what I know is that social media strongly discourages authenticity. This is not to say that each individual person on FB or Twitter is against authenticity. Far from it, I suspect. But it takes only five minutes on either site to see that individuals are lost in the noise. Both sites are ruled by this strange hive-type mentality which uses insults and shame to demolish authenticity. (The Hive doesn’t necessarily represent the majority, but that hasn’t stopped them yet.)

My diagram. This is proof that I have zero graphical talent. This is also why I will never design my own covers.

And make no mistake, the Hive demands conformity.

Resistance May Be Futile

I’ve never done well with conformity. In school, my friends were a hodgepodge, and together, we fell into some weird no-man’s land between nerds, brainiacs, and head-banging burnouts. (The idea of “geeks” being something other than “nerds” had not yet been formulated. Otherwise, that might have been in the mix, too.)

I’ve seen this quote attributed to both Jack Kerouac and Steve Jobs, but I’m betting Steve was only quoting Jack.

As an adult, I think I’m pretty comfortable with myself, and with the fact that I continue to be an outlier in many ways. But see, that’s me. That’s Amy. (And while I’ve never come right out and said my real name, it’s not exactly a big secret.) Amy can disagree with the masses on just about everything, but Marie doesn’t have that option. And yet being Marie has become a huge part of my life. An enormous amount of my self-worth is tied up in Marie. (Whether or not that’s healthy is also a debate for another day.)

Marie is expected to conform. Marie is simply not allowed to be authentic. In person, maybe. At conventions and conferences, being authentic is a bit more acceptable (but only within reason). That person you met in the bar at RT or GRL? That was as close to the authentic “me” as anyone’s likely to get. But on social media?

No fucking way, man.

A Culture of Shame…

The Hive loves shame. The Hive revels in finding outliers and shaming them away. Whether it’s because somebody dared to see the movie Fifty Shades of Grey (I didn’t, but hey, it’s your money), or because they didn’t have a strong political stance on the new Ghostbusters movie (which I haven’t seen), the Hive is quick to dump truckloads of shame upon their heads.

And when real issues come into play?

You better agree with the Hive or get the fuck out of the way. The Hive has no qualms about calling you every nasty thing in the book if you dare to disagree. The Hive won’t think twice about ruining your career or your life. They seem to think that’s what you get for daring to have your own opinion.

…And a Distinct Lack of Joy

Another section of The Gifts of Imperfection that hit me hard was the section on joy. Brené differentiates joy from happiness, and there’s a paragraph on pages 79-80 exploring the differences by examining the roots of the two words. At the end of that paragraph, there’s a quote from Ann Robertson about joy. It ends with this line: “They say [joy’s] opposite is not sadness, but fear.”

And suddenly I knew why being Marie no longer involved joy — because every minute I spend as Marie is spent in fear. Every tweet, every blog post, every book, every word — I hold each one under a microscope before I speak/post/tweet, trying to determine whether the Hive will find fault. Trying to decide if that silly tweet about my daughter’s shoes is worth risking the wrath of the Hive.

Is it any wonder there is no longer joy in being Marie?

I know some authors don’t care. Some say whatever they want, although in my experience, a lot of the most outspoken ones are only echoing the Hive. The few who dare to speak contrary to the Hive either love a good fight, or are promptly eviscerated.

I do *not* enjoy fighting, so the real issue is, am I strong enough to face evisceration?

No. Definitely not. If that makes me a coward, then so be it. But I got into this business because I wanted to write stories about men falling in love, not because I wanted to fight meaningless internet battles with opinionated assholes.

Conflict versus Discussion

I hate conflict.

I can handle discussion. I like dialog. I encourage the genuine exchange of ideas. But social media is none of those things. Social media is an echo chamber. Everybody’s shouting, but almost nobody’s taking time to listen.

All of this goes along with a discussion I had recently with my massage therapist, Kendra (who inspired Jaime, in Between Sinners and Saints, by the way). I was trying to formulate the idea that discussion is good, but conflict is bad, and how people have abandoned the former in exchange for the latter. We actually seem to think posting pithy memes is the same as dialog, and that calling people rude names is okay, so long as they’re on the other side of whatever issue people are foaming at the mouth about. I think it’s detrimental to us as a society. And Kendra told me something Mother Theresa once said.

And this, in my mind, is brilliant. Because conflict is, by definition, destructive. Being anti-anything promotes conflict rather than peace. It promotes destruction rather than understanding.

I decided immediately that this was what I would strive for. I will not be anti-ANYTHING. Instead, I will be PRO. I will be pro-peace, pro-equality, pro-justice, pro-compassion, pro-understanding, pro-happiness. I won’t even bother being anti-Hive. Instead, I will be pro-authenticity.

Different Is Good

The world is a big place. It’s not made up of black and white, good and bad. People are not all gay or straight. The country is not divided into intelligent, open-minded, compassionate Democrats and cold-hearted, racist, homophobic Republicans. Most people are one of the millions of shades of gray in between.

Each one of us is unique. We all come from different countries, different regions, different families, different upbringings. Somebody raised by a devout Catholic corporate banker in New York City is bound to have a different world view than somebody raised by an atheist cattle rancher in rural Wyoming, and both of them will differ from a Muslim raised by a single mother somewhere in the UK. That doesn’t make one of them right and two of them wrong.

It only makes them different.

And thank goodness for those differences! Who wants to live in a world where every person thinks and feels exactly the same way? Who wants to be part of a world where there’s only one opinion allowed on every single facet of life? The Hive may want that, but most people I know don’t. In fact, an argument could be made that a world like that would have no need for art, music, or literature. That sounds like a god damned awful, boring place to be.

The Beautiful Imperfection of Being Human

I believe that all life is connected on some grand, cosmic scale. Yes, people are all different, but we share certain traits. We’re all flawed. We’re scared. We’re searching. We’re all fighting our own battles. And we’re almost all longing for connection. We all want somebody to just say, “Yeah, I hear you.” Not necessarily “you’re right” or “I agree.” Just, “I hear you.”

Is that so hard?

No.

But also, yes. Because the Hive doesn’t care about hearing people. The Hive wants only to assimilate. The Hive will shame you for wanting to be heard, and shame you for being the person who takes a moment to listen.

The Hive wants to divide the world into Xs and Ys, and dump shame by the truckload onto one of them.

It’s not PRO. It’s anti.

So, What’s My Point?

Where am I going with this, and how does it relate to my hiatus from writing and from social media? I’m still formulating all that. This post is part of my effort to process what I’ve learned. Maybe Marie simply doesn’t belong on social media. Maybe it’s time I accepted that I can’t stand dealing with the assholes. (I should clarify: I think the authentic people outnumber the assholes. But unfortunately, the assholes seem to have all the power on social media.) Or maybe I just need to learn how to reframe my time there.

Here’s what I know:

I will be PRO. Pro-equality, pro-peace, pro-diversity (in all matters), pro-authenticity, pro-dialog, pro-understanding. The list goes on and on. I will be PRO many things. But I will not be anti.
I will strive to find that balance, as Marie, between being authentic and being safe. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I’ll try to find it. Maybe publishing this blog post (which I’m scared to do — I’ve been sitting it on for more than 24 hours now) will be the first step.
I’ll do my damnedest to keep my facts and opinions separate.
I will not participate in shaming anyone. I will not give power to the Hive. If that means I have to run away and hide during certain events (like presidential elections), I will. But I will NOT deliberately create shame for anybody. (Except those people who walk into a room and stop right in the doorway, blocking all traffic from both directions. I will continue to scream at them to take one fucking step to the side before stopping to gape. I’m not anti-“stop and figure out where to go.” I’m just pro-“get your behind out of the way while you do it.”)
I will continue to actively search for ways to make being Marie an act of joy again, rather than an act of fear.

Maybe I’ll see you again on Twitter in the next few days. Maybe not. I don’t know. But until then, I will leave you with one last thought that’s been much on my mind of late:

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Winter Oranges Now in Audio!

Winter Oranges is now available as an audio book, narrated by Nick J. Russo.

Jason Walker is a child star turned teen heartthrob turned reluctant B-movie regular who’s sick of his failing career. So he gives up Hollywood for northern Idaho, far away from the press, the drama of L.A., and the best friend he’s secretly been in love with for years.

There’s only one problem with his new life: a strange young man only he can see is haunting his guesthouse. Except Benjamin Ward isn’t a ghost. He’s a man caught out of time, trapped since the Civil War in a magical prison where he can only watch the lives of those around him. He’s also sweet, funny, and cute as hell, with an affinity for cheesy ’80s TV shows. And he’s thrilled to finally have someone to talk to.

But Jason quickly discovers that spending all his time with a man nobody else can see or hear isn’t without its problems—especially when the tabloids find him again and make him front-page news. The local sheriff thinks he’s on drugs, and his best friend thinks he’s crazy. But Jason knows he hasn’t lost his mind. Too bad he can’t say the same thing about his heart.

Find the audiobook here:

http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/Winter-Oranges-Audiobook/B01N1OZ3Z3/

https://www.amazon.com/Winter-Oranges/dp/B01NCI8FGY/

 

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Upcoming Translations: Suffisamment Normal, Coming Jan 3

For my French readers, the translation of Normal Enough will be available on January 3rd.

La guerre des moteurs, numéro hors série

Qu’est-ce qui est “normal” ?

Quand Brandon Kenner entre dans le garage de Kasey Ralston avec sa Chevelle SS 454 de 1970, Kasey est sous le choc, à la fois à cause de l’homme et de sa voiture. Mais Kasey cache un secret des plus embarrassants : son amour pour les vieilles muscle cars qui va bien au-delà de ce que l’on pourrait considérer comme normal. Cet attrait inhabituel avait con-duit Kasey à rester isolé — à l’écart de sa famille, et même à distance de ses collègues de travail.

Mais quand Brandon découvre le secret du mécano, il n’est pas repoussé. En fait, il trouve même Kasey intrigant, et est bien déterminé à l’avoir pour lui tout seul.

Absolument tout chez Brandon fait ronronner le moteur de Kasey, et il est plus que motivé à se salir les mains en compagnie de cet homme des plus charmants. Les inquiétudes de Ka-sey viennent plus de ce qui pourrait se passer ensuite. Y a-t-il une chance pour qu’ils aient un futur ensemble ? Dans le passé, l’espoir d’une relation à long terme l’avait toujours con-duit à de cruelles déceptions. Mais Kasey ne peut s’empêcher d’espérer qu’en dépit de ses penchants, Brandon sera l’exception.

PREORDER IT HERE
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More Obnoxious Commercials, Or: #SlackerMomsUnite

If yesterday’s post is any indication, I suppose I’m already on the subject of ridiculous commercials, so let’s go ahead and talk about this one:

Honestly, if a woman said this to me, I’m not sure what I’d do. Well. First, I’d have to pick my jaw up off the floor. But after that? Probably one of these three things:

Punch her square in the face.
Say, “Oh, you’re one of those moms. Excuse me. So sorry. I’m just going to go sit over there, with the other slacker moms. You know. The ones like me, who pulled their kid’s shirt out of the hamper ten minutes before we were due to be here and were just relieved to find it didn’t have any obvious stains on it.”
Recommend she make an appointment with her doctor to up her dosage, because whatever meds she’s on just aren’t working.

Did I miss one?

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Random Babbling

It seems like a good time for some random updates and babbling. I’ll be talking audio books, Twitter, idiotic Verizon commercials, and yummy chicken dinners.

A to Z Coming in Japanese in 2017!

I was just informed that A to Z has been contracted to Monochrome, the same Japanese publishing house that translated Promises. It’ll be released sometime in 2017.

I can’t wait to see Angelo on one of those gorgeous Japanese covers!!

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Trailer Trash now available in Audio!!

It’s 1986, and what should have been the greatest summer of Nate Bradford’s life goes sour when his parents suddenly divorce. Now, instead of spending his senior year in his hometown of Austin, Texas, he’s living with his father in Warren, Wyoming, population 2,833 (and Nate thinks that might be a generous estimate). There’s no swimming pool, no tennis team, no mall—not even any MTV. The entire school’s smaller than his graduating class back home, and in a town where the top teen pastimes are sex and drugs, Nate just doesn’t fit in.

Then Nate meets Cody Lawrence. Cody’s dirt poor, from a broken family, and definitely lives on the wrong side of the tracks. Nate’s dad says Cody’s bad news. The other kids say he’s trash. But Nate knows Cody’s a good kid who’s been dealt a lousy hand. In fact, he’s beginning to think his feelings for Cody go beyond friendship.

Admitting he might be gay is hard enough, but between small-town prejudices and the growing AIDS epidemic dominating the headlines, a town like Warren, Wyoming is no place for two young men to fall in love.

Warning: This book contains teenagers doing all the things we did as teenagers but which we now pretend teenagers never do.

 

Get the audiobook here:

Amazon

Audible

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