Lili St. Crow's Blog, page 196

Fidgets

It’s one of those days when irritation boils just below the skin. I can’t wait for a run to shake the fidgets out, to get rid of the unpleasant prickles. B can’t wait either, she keeps nosing at me. “NAO? NAO? WE RUN NAO?” Even loading her in the car to drop the Prince off […]

Weekend Persistence

A nice sunny weekend, and now I need a day to recover from everything I did on my days “off.” I did manage my One New Recipe Of The Week, Thug Kitchen‘s spiced chickpea wraps with tahini dressing. It’s the first time I’ve ever worked with tahini, despite loving hummus with a fiery and abiding […]

The Gap

These are tiny, super-strong magnets, Buckyballs, the type one is cautioned not to swallow. The ex, who somewhat fancied himself Fuller’s unrecognized heir, bought them. Now that the kids are in their teens and understand what they can do inside one’s body, they’re relatively safe; they mostly live on the fridge. The Little Prince in […]

Nasty Letters

I get mail. Some of it is…breathtaking.

First Name: *redacted*

Last Name: *redacted*

Your Email

*redacted*

Re-enter email

*redacted*

Subject:

steelflower

Message:

Loved this book. I just read that epiracy killed the series. How does it not kill your other series? You would write of a woman who does not shirk her responsibilities to those she comes across, who does not back down from trouble; yet after giving her life, you would back down from finishing her story? I will not read your books after this, you let Steelflower down.

So, because some of the other series I’ve written have been pirated but not killed completely, I am to blame, and I am to be roundly punished.

I see.

I was not initially going to reply, but I thought about it. I decided this might become my form reply to similar letters.

Dear *redacted*,

I am very sorry you feel that way. I hope you never have to make the type of decision I did when I found I could not continue Kaia’s story because of the theft of my work by e-pirates. I further hope you never receive the sort of hatemail I have for making that decision. It is quite distressing to be stolen from, then blamed for being stolen from and furthermore receive nasty letters about it.

I hope you find other stories you like,

Lili Saintcrow

The more I get letters like this, the less inclined I am to work my ass off to try to find a solution to thieves killing a series I agonized over, with characters I love.

*sigh*

Spring, Obscene

The trees are beginning to leaf out. Spring! I’m going about humming Tom Lehrer. (As one does.) There are two more garden boxes set up. They won’t be used right away, soil prep for the clay and dry shade is just beginning. Leafy greens will go in one box, the others will hold what I affectionately call a witch’s garden–rue, mugwort, things of that sort. (We must wear our rue with a difference, always.) Not until next year though–this year is for cover crops. Oats and field peas, planted then allowed to die down in winter to provide mulch. I may even put some massive daikons in–they’re good at breaking up clay. Since grass won’t grow in that upper part of the yard, I’m forced to other measures. (Like I ever need an EXCUSE to grow mugwort, but still…)

I’ve calmed somewhat after yesterday’s irritation. I can laugh at the hapless idiocy now, instead of being vexed at the insult to my intelligence or my books. There is one more small thing I wanted to say.

It seems absolutely insane to me that people can use a few “bad” words to level the charge of “obscenity” in an attempt to censor a work of literature, or any other art. It seems rather a misuse of the word.

You want to know what’s obscene? Extraordinary rendition. Children starving to death. The rate of incarceration in America. Racism. Sexism. Xenophobia. The current Republican party’s platform, policies, and behavior. Guantanamo Bay. Drones. Security theater in our airports that doesn’t make us safer, only accustoms us to ever-increasing violations of privacy. Dogfights, cockfights. MRAs harassing, doxxing, and threatening women. A child’s body left on the pavement for four and a half hours. War.

Those are obscene. Not books. Not art. At best, art can only faithfully mirror our own twisted selves.

*sigh* Now I’m disgusted all over again. Time to go back to revising. I may even throw in a few extra fucks, shits, goddammits, and cuntwhistles for good measure. Maybe even a dicklicking motherfucking shitsucking douchenozzle or two.

Over and out.

photo by:


huntz

On Clean Reader

So there’s this–an an app called “Clean Reader” that purports to “scrub” books of offensive terms. Joanne Harris has protested; she makes the excellent point, among others, of the insulting substitution of “witch” for “bitch.” Chuck Wendig also weighed in.

I therefore wrote to Clean Reader requesting that they do not touch my books in any way, shape, or form.

On Wed, 25 Mar at 12:36 PM , Lilith Saintcrow (contact @lilithsaintcrow.com) wrote:

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am writing to object, in the strongest possible terms, to my books’ inclusion in the Clean Reader app. I find the whole idea of Bowdlerisation of authors’ works to be distasteful and déclassé in the extreme, not to mention the proposed “cleaning” to be extremely gauche and heavy-handed in its “American evangelical crackpot” focus. If I wanted to write Tipper Gore-approved tripe, I would, and there are plenty of writers who do. I do not wish to, and I object strongly to your “app” insulting my work by presuming to substitute “cleaner” words. I chose, and continue to choose, every word in every book I write for a reason, and you are not licensed, allowed, approved, or empowered to change one jot or tittle.

Frankly, I am surprised you didn’t think to offer authors the chance to opt in or out of this mutilation of their work. In any case, I am emphatically opting out. Please make absolutely certain your “app” does not touch a single one of my books. You may find my works listed on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other sites; I write fiction under my name, Lilith Saintcrow, and YA fiction under Lili St. Crow.

Please reply with confirmation that my books are not and will not be touched by this “app.” I am uninterested in whatever justification you might offer for this censorship and mutilation of literature, no matter how well-meaning.

Sincerely,

Lilith Saintcrow

I received this reply.

On Mar 25, 2015, at 1:58 PM, Clean Reader (cleanreader @inktera.com) wrote:

Lilith:

First of all, thank you for taking the time to send us your message. Your request is being implemented right now, and should be completed within the next few hours (there is a QA process to validate de-listing titles).

In fact, it is our policy to de-list any titles as requested by the author without need for explanation.

Please understand, however, that there are a fair number of mis-representations and misinformation surrounding what the Clean Reader app does and does not do. For instance:

– The app does not remove any words from a book

– The app does not change any words in a book, or replace them with alternatives

– The app does not censor any works, or limit the user’s ability to read the book in the exact form provided by the author/publisher

– The app does not change (or understand) the meaning of any phrases or text

– The app does not substitute an edited or adjusted edition of the title

– The app does not discriminate against any person on any basis

– The app does not impose any feature upon a user, with the exception of DRM-related restrictions as presented by the author/publisher

Of course, we cannot know what you’ve been told about what Clean Reader is/does. But we can tell you that all of the above-mentioned statements are true.

I think the thing that irritated me most about it was the insult to my intelligence. The disingenuousness was perhaps merely a bonus. Offering “alternative” words to “obscenities” or “curse words” is a substitution of phrases or text. (See example in this Guardian article detailing Harris’s objections.) My reply, I’m afraid, is somewhat rude and has one regrettable typo, but in my defense, I was a little vexed.

On Wed, 25 Mar at 3:30 PM , Lilith Saintcrow (contact @lilithsaintcrow.com) wrote:

Dear Sir/Madam,

Thank you for your reply.

I told you I was uninterested in whatever justification you might offer, but you persisted in sending one. I shall, therefore, reply.

Your app substitutes one word for another books according to some “cleanliness standard.” I find it disingenuous in the extreme for you to claim otherwise, when I have gone to your website and seen how the app works in your very own words. It also does change the meaning of phrases and text, by substituting other phrases and text. This is shown on your very own website. That it is the user choosing a “cleanliness level” is beside the point, especially since your “cleanliness” levels have a specific and prevailing “Christian,” “evangelical,” and, I should add, very 1950s McCarthy rubric.

If I wanted to use different words in my works, I would. I chose and choose the words in each book carefully, and they are not to be abridged or altered without my explicit consent. Your app might conceivably fall under the rubric of a “translator” program, but if my works are translated into a foreign language I work with the translator where possible, and am (this is very important) paid for the foreign-language rights. By not contacting the authors in your database (since your “list” of titles is indeed a database) and not giving them a chance to opt out of this bowdlerization (I presume you have Google, please look that up) you have committed an extremely grave error, compounded by your incredibly tone-deaf responses in social media and even in this email thread.

If readers are so offended by my dialogue/characters/plotlines, they are welcome to find other works. There are entire genres catering to such tastes. You shall not force my own books into those genres without my consent, and you shall not facilitate the dismemberment and mutilation of my work in this fashion, period, point blank.

No doubt there is money to be made catering to the fears and petty prejudices of those who wish fiction or language deboned, dethroned, denatured, or spayed, but you shall not make one red cent off doing so to my books. I would urge you to reconsider this entire debacle, but I suspect I would be wasting breath.

Please confine further replies to confirmation of my books removed from your database. I have no further time to waste today; I have books to write.

Sincerely,

Lilith Saintcrow

The reply I received, sent at 2:33PM PDT:

Lilith:

We have confirmed that your books (now and future) are unavailable for sale or discovery within the Clean Reader App.

I am a little irked at the entire thing, especially since they did not contact authors of books at risk of being Bowdlerised before listing them “for sale or discovery.” I won’t quite label that particular decision “shady as fuck” but it’s certainly an omission of what I’d think would be a necessary act of good faith or even just good business hygiene. I’m not quite sure how this got approved at the app stores (Apple and Google Play) in question, either.

For other authors wishing to object, I wrote to jared@cleanreaderapp.com and CC’d support@pagefoundry.com; the replies all came from support@inktera.com.

Time to go back to revision.

photo by:


Muffet

Underworld Shipyard

Into the dark underbelly of revisions we go. Buckle your belts and loosen your blades in your scabbards, you never know when a passive construction will leap out at you, when a that will show up, where a plot hole will suddenly open at your feet, yawning wide. Quick reflexes and endurance are necessary, as well as ruthlessness.

You must know when to kill a darling and when to let it live, when the rules are served and when it’s best to break them. Tightening, smoothing, weaving stray strands back in, making sure it all hangs correctly, twitching the underlying structure so it all jolts properly into place. Burnishing the hidden hinges, stepping back as far as you can to see how the light plays on the surface, if a pebble upstream will change the course of the riptide.

And, finally, we’ll reach the point where we don’t look back, because you’ll spend forever tinkering if you’re allowed to. The point where you’ve made it as good and tight and seaworthy a Lookfar as you can, and you have to let it go. It will sail to the editor, copyeditor, proofer for the final caulkings, maybe taking on water and maybe not, and you can turn your attention back to the thirsty shipyard where the others lay under construction, ready to sail out from the dark harbour inside you. A writer is where the sea touches the dry country of the dead, forgotten, voiceless.

No wonder we drink.

Once more into the labyrinth, following the string of a story; once more we sing of the wine-dark sea, the harp, and the rocks. Revision. A beautiful, dangerous word.

A beautiful, dangerous, necessary work.

photo by:

Spa Kidney

Richard III is being laid to rest–Josephine Tey would be happy, I think. I remember reading The Daughter of Time years ago and being stunned. Don’t get me wrong, Shakespeare’s play is fucking amazeballs, but he was writing while questions of legitimacy swirled around a current Tudor monarch, so he couldn’t quite tell the truth–even if the truth was known to him, which is by no means likely.

Anyway, I’m very pleased. Historical rehabilitations always please me.

This morning I got the kids to school and decided to treat myself to a clay masque, a la Spa Day At Home. I smeared the clay concoction on and sallied out of my loo, only to be assaulted by a barking bulldog who thought I had done something to his beloved human. Also, there was an Aussie who had no idea why the damn bulldog was so upset, but was determined to find out AND remind him that if there was going to be a shitfit thrown, SHE was going to do it first, thank you very much, and also, what was that strange thing on her human’s face?

The result of this was a furry ball of two-dog destruction nailing me right in the shins, which drove me back against the loo doorknob, which speared me unerringly in the right kidney. I let out a strangled yelp, and Trundles, driven into fresh excitement by the fact that he could hear his beloved human in distress, redoubled his attempts to head-butt the strange-faced thing that had taken her place. Miss B, of course, got him by a hind leg and dragged him down, and she proceeded to lick every part of him she could reach while I stumbled back into the loo proper, my back spasming and my face working in interesting contortions that no doubt added to my, ahem, exotic appearance. I grabbed at the towel rack to steady myself, and it’s a wonder I didn’t pull it free of the wall.

Trundles snapped at Miss B, who snapped back, and the two of them rolled out into my bedroom, then raced around the house a bit while I hobbled, wincing, for the kitchen. By the time they had sorted out who was in charge (it’s Miss B, ever and always, but Odd keeps on having to be reminded every time something New and Disturbing wipes his hard drive clean) Trundles had forgotten what upset him in the first place, and simply rested his face against my calves as I stood at the sink, drinking water and trying to regain my breath. He paid no further attention to the masque, since Miss B had reached the kitchen first and was unfazed by the new thread to my familiar smell.

Spa day at home, folks. Rest, relaxation, and kidney trauma.

Have a good Monday. I’ve got to limp into the kitchen again for more tea, and get started on revisions…

photo by:


Tambako the Jaguar

Trundles Avec Lady

Odd Trundles is the oddest of ladies’ men. They just can’t resist him and his schnorgles, and he knows it. Fortunately, he doesn’t have a long enough memory span to become spoiled by all the attention, and Miss B keeps him firmly in line.

He’s more Cyrano than Lothario–and all Trundles.

Supportive Like Wonderbra

I’m over at the Orbit blog today, interviewing Gail Carrier for her new release, Prudence. It’s my first interview ever–asking the questions, not answering them–and Ms Carriger was very gracious. I hope you like it!

I’m happy to report that the Certain Situation with That Certain Publisher has been…resolved…now. Thank you all for the messages of support. It was an extremely unpleasant set of circumstances, but it’s behind me now.

Also in the “good news” category: I got a surprise visit yesterday from my girl C, who is DONE WITH CHEMO and CANCER-FREE. *throws confetti* It was amazing to see her on the mend, hair reappearing, and her old wicked sense of humor still intact. (I may have misted up a little.) Best of all, the kids both have sniffles but she didn’t have to avoid us, because her blood counts are recovering. When you have kids and pets, immune-compromised friends can have a rough time just dropping by.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to her medical costs, and thank you for all the supportive messages for C, too. You guys are wonderful, as uplifting as sports brassieres but not nearly as pinch or rash-inducing. I have a lot to be grateful for.

Not least on the gratitude list is the fact that I’m going to finish Cal & Trinity, if not today then tomorrow. I can feel the book boiling under my skin, and the lunge for the end has begun. It will be nice to get the zero for that shoved into a mental drawer so I can revise Blood Call with a clear conscience.

Thank you, dear Readers. You’re a wonderful bunch.

Off I go to stumble for a finish line somewhere, anywhere…