Abigail Barnette's Blog, page 44

Jealous Hater Book Club: Handbook For Mortals Chapter 3 The Hierophant or, “Nothing Happened.”

It’s the Handbook For Mortals Twitter Round Up, y’all! YEEEEE-HAW!

Twitter user @TheSubliminator actually went to Lani Sarem and Paul Ian Nicholas Thomas Eric John James or whoever’s author event. Highlights include Sarem declaring “It’s not MY fault Angie is a black writer,” in regards to fraudulently knocking Angie Thomas’s The Hate U Give from its #1 spot, and straight up plagiarizing Roald Dahl when she signs the damn book. Check out #23HourBS for details.

Why that hashtag name? Well, because Ms. Sarem and Mr. John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt are now advertising this book as a #1 New York Times Bestseller for twenty-three hours. Author L.L. McKinney made a Twitter moment about it.

If all of that wasn’t pathetic and enraging enough for you, definitely check out this thread by Jeremy West, in which he calls out another laughably bad attempt by Sarem and the Rookie Of The Year to make the book appear successful. Yes, they are absolutely still trying to claim that this book is a pop culture phenomenon.

If you need something to get the god awful taste of all of this out of your mouth, Snarksquad member and BookTuber @MyNameIsMarines is reading the book on the hashtag #SnarkForMortals. I highly encourage you to check her out.

Meanwhile, I apologize that this recap was delayed. Computer troubles. Namely, me absentmindedly drenching my keyboard with Windex while I tried to clean my desk. Thank you big time to everyone who donated via Kofi in the wake of this senseless tragedy.

All right! When last we met, Lani was about to tell Charles Spellman how she really performs her illusion. I have been on the edge of my seat waiting to find out what her explanation is. Is she going to admit to having real magic? Will it be revealed that Charles Spellman is her father and that he too has real magic? Man, oh man, I cannot wait for this!

Just kidding. We don’t see any of that. Chapter two ended on a hook that felt as though it would lead into the next scene. Charles asked how she did the trick, it seems like we’ll turn the page and see her doing some fast thinking, maybe confessing to having actual magic. But no. We skip ahead to paperwork and living arrangements. Because honestly, who wants to read all that icky plot?

Chapter three opens with Lani explaining the human resources process at the casino. She had to do paperwork and a background check, but in the meantime, she just hangs out in the good graces of Charles Spellman.

It worked out well for me, though, since I had to find an apartment (luckily, the first week I was allowed to stay at the hotel, courtesy of Mr. Wynn and Mr. Spellman).

I like how none of this makes Lani suspicious that maybe she’s getting special treatment of some kind. On the one hand, she could be thinking, well my illusion was so great, obviously, I’m going to be allowed to stay at the hotel rent-free. On the other hand, maybe she knows C.S. is her father, but we’re not supposed to know she knows because it would ruin the twist.

I’m betting it’s a third hand: She knows that Spellman is somehow connected to her family, but isn’t mentioning it to the reader because it will ruin the twist, which is incredibly predictable. When she inevitably finds out that he’s her father, she will be rocked to her very core, and it will lead to the beginning of a tense confrontation scene that won’t carry into the next chapter or ever be mentioned again.

On her first day, Lani has an appointment with wardrobe:

We all have a dressing room area that’s inside a really big room. They are sectioned off smaller rooms — kinda like in a changing room at a clothing store — but the show also has a large wardrobe room where we go for fittings, costumer fixes, etc.

I love the use of “etc.” after listing two things. I wouldn’t normally call it out because etc. is a perfectly acceptable abbreviation, but she could have just written the sentence, “the show also has a large wardrobe room where we go for fittings and costumer fixes.” Know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em, Lani.

They also keep certain costumes there (like the ones with intricate beading that constantly has to be repaired) and lots of the performers get dressed there because they need assistance with their complex and much more elaborate costumes, which would be impossible to put on by yourself.

No, it would be impossible to put on by themselves. They don’t need assistance putting on the reader’s costume. Although, if anyone wants to imagine me wearing an intricately beaded costume while I do these recaps, I’m okay with that.

The wardrobe department made and maintained the costumes — a huge undertaking for the small group of women who work in the department.

I feel like this is implied when you say, “wardrobe,” but I don’t know. This might be a time when repetitive exposition is necessary. I just assumed that everyone would know that the wardrobe department where the costumes are would be where the costumes are maintained and created. This one, I could genuinely be wrong. Either way, I felt like it was super repetitive to describe the wardrobe department and then describe the wardrobe department again.

Lani goes on to say that the seamstresses make side money selling Halloween costumes, and Lani thinks about how she wants one when the holiday comes. So, of course, this is the perfect time for a sidebar about…IDK. Halloween and how Lani feels about playing dress-up? Because why the fuck not?

Though I never know what to be, I always want a completely recognizable costume that is something so unique that no one else has it.

I bet the costumers can’t wait to fill that order.

It dawned on me they could make incredible costumes for the Renaissance faires that I loved going to, which made my new job and life that much more awesome, since I heard Las Vegas had a pretty decent faire that happened yearly in town.

Thank God she mentioned this. I would’ve had absolutely no frame of reference or context for this entire story if I didn’t know about the Renaissance faire in Las Vegas, or the fact that Lani loves to go to them.

Yes, having your very own costume designer is a must for any girl.

Gosh, I hope she tells the entire costume department that they are now her own personal costume designers. They will so super appreciate that.

So, on her first day, Lani is standing in wardrobe in her underwear, being measured by a “wardrobe girl” named Lil.

Her full name was Lillianne, but she had told me in her first breath to call her Lil, and that only her mom and great aunt Anne called her by her full name. She talked a lot, and fast, while smacking her gum. She continued on about how she only thought her great aunt called her by her first name because her name was Anne and thought that somehow she was kind of named after her.

Ugh. How annoying. I hate people who are hung up on their names, and the story of their names, and how to pronounce their names, and they just go on and on and on multiple times about their names and then have their author frenemy write a foreword to their book to explain how to pronounce their name. That is so obnoxious.

Isn’t it, Zaaaaaaade? Don’t you find that annoying, Zaaaaaaaaaaade?

I quickly learned more about Lil than I know about most people I’ve known for half my life.

Jesus Christ, I know the feeling.

She looked like the stereotypical Goth: black hair, black nails, and more than her fair share of tattoos.

She took more than her fair share of tattoos? So, you’re telling me that some people won’t get tattoos now? God, greedy much, Lil?

I’m pretty sure that if you saw her on the street the last thing you would think is that she make clothes for a living.

That would be in my top five guesses if someone asked me what I thought a person that looked like that did for a living. Number one, in a band. Number two, artist. Number three, professional tattoo artist or piercer. Number four, theater costumer. Number five, works at Hot Topic.

Okay, number five would actually be number one. I’m not hating on Hot Topic. I buy stuff there all the time, and the employees are always lovely. I just feel like any place that sends out an email with the subject line, “Welcome to Gilead,” to publicize their officially licensed Handmaid’s Tale cloaks can’t be taken super seriously.

She continued to ramble on in her fast, chatty way, and pretty soon I tuned out the random gossip and focused on my reflection in the mirror.

This is a scene in which the heroine of the novel ignores someone who is talking to her to look in a mirror and admire herself. Someone wrote this scene with complete sincerity.

The fluorescent lights showed off every angle of me as I stood there staring at myself and all I could think was how white I looked,

Well, we knew this was going to happen eventually. I even said, in the very first recap, “Definitely caucasian and almost guaranteed to lament her pale skin later […]”. This is one of the most basic components of a Mary Sue. From Merry Gentry’s skin that “glows like [she] swallowed the moon,” to Bella Swan not tanning in the desert, one of the most important characteristics for a white girl’s idealized self-insert is porcelain pale skin.

and I wished some parts of my body were different.

See? She’s not self-obsessed. Unlike other girls, when Lani looks in a mirror, she notices her flaws, no matter how often everyone tells her she’s gorgeous. I bet you can identify with this, reader. You do the same thing Lani does, and Lani is a magical girl, so you’re a magical girl, too. All fiction tends to have some variation on this. Authors want their characters to seem relatable, and readers want a relatable character. However, other writers tend to not make this manipulative trick so obvious.

Finally, Lil’s voice cut through my distraction when she mentioned something about Mac. Unfortunately I only caught the tail end of what she had said. Not wanting to admit that I had not heard her at all, I quickly changed the subject even though I genuinely wanted to know the gossip she had spilled about the brooding technical director and the question I did ask came only from minor curiosity.

I feel like this book once had the commas all in the right place but then somebody shook it up like a snow globe and they went absolutely everywhere. That’s the only explanation for why some places have commas where they shouldn’t be, and other places have no commas where a comma is desperately needed.

Every time I think that this heroine couldn’t get more unlikable, I am proved frustratingly, tragically wrong. After spending chapters telling us every inane detail of her life that have nothing to do with the overall story, here’s Lani complaining about someone else doing exactly that, tuning out so she can stare in a mirror at herself, and only bothering to listen to the other human being in the conversation when the topic is the dude that will be part of the love triangle later.

So, what was the question that Lani asked from “minor curiosity?” She wants to know if Lil will be her wardrobe person all the time. Now, Lani said she feels important knowing that she has a costumer assigned to herself, but I choose to interpret this as Lani asking, “ugh. You’re not going to be my costume person all the time, are you? Because I try to make it all about me, and right now, you’re making it very difficult to do that.”

Unfortunately, that’s not how it goes. Instead, Lil complements Lani’s hair and asks if she goes to a salon.

“Oh no, I just go to Sally Beauty Supply and get the colors and do it myself. In the little town I’m from we have one hair salon, and they aren’t exactly willing to do anything — in their words —‘ crazy.’ So I had to start coloring it myself plus it’s so much cheaper.” I put up air quotes as I stressed “crazy.”

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to visualize the small town Lani comes from. It’s so small she can’t even get her hair done but there is a Sally Beauty Supply she can go to? I suppose they don’t have any restaurants, either, so she just has to run down to the local Williams-Sonoma and make do, right?

Lil is so impressed with Lani’s hair that she asks if Lani will color hers sometime. Because apparently, there are no salons in Las Vegas, and definitely a super Goth costumer would have no idea where or how to color her own hair.

I got curious and ran a search on Lil’s name. She appears in just one other scene in this book, and that appearance is very brief. And no, it’s not a scene where they dye her hair. This entire conversation about how Lani dyes her hair is, like so many other things in this book, just there.

Lil asks Lani if she’s excited about joining the show:

“That was a pretty awesome illusion,” she said, tentatively. “I can see why C.S. had, like, a special edition just for you. I’ve never seen them do that for anyone, but you sure brought it.”

We’re still all trying to figure out how she got the audition, too, Lil. I mean, does Zade know that Charles Spellman is her father? Is that how she knew to come here to get the job? It’s not like she was this world-renowned magician asking for an audition. She is, by her own admission, nobody. So, how did any of this happen?

I’m not good with compliments. Some girls are. I’ve always admired those who know what to say and accept them graciously.

“Thank you.” That’s what you say. I mean, that’s what you say if you’re like other girls. But this is Lani. She’s Not Like Other Girls™. She laments the fact that she doesn’t know Lil well enough to say anything nice about her in return and ends up just saying “thanks” anyway, and it’s super awkward.

What do I say? “You measured me well?” That’s not exactly something you compliment someone on. I could say “you talk faster than anyone I’ve ever met.” That also seemed like a less-than-stellar compliment.

This wouldn’t be so awkward if Lani didn’t just assume that other people are fishing for compliments when they give them.

Lil asks Zade how she came up with her illusion, which is a little weird, considering the fact that she works on a magic show and has probably signed a nondisclosure agreement. Like, the people that work on this show should probably understand the importance of secrecy in magic. But Lani is sure that Lil is going to pry, so she changes the subject to talk about a dress.

The one closest to us was a beautiful black dress, decked out in ruffled tulle underskirts of different colors and varying lengths. The top had an incredible angular collar that stood up and away from the body. I’d never seen anything like it. It was amazing, but probably difficult to wear — and almost definitely uncomfortable.

This is either a ballerina version of Mia Sara’s dress after she succumbs to evil in Legend, or the latest from the Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way fashion collection. Which, by the way, I really think Hot Topic should look into licensing. Now that we all know who the author of My Immortal is, it should be no problem kicking a little money her way.

As nervous as I was, I probably would have raved about it dishcloth if that had been my only option, but I really did love the dress.

Zade clearly went to the school of backhanded compliments.

Lil asks her where she’s from, and Zani tells her she’s from Tennessee. Then, there is a little triple moon astrology looking thing that serves as a section break? Please note, I am using text-to-speech to write this recap since I accidentally sprayed Windex over my keyboard and ruined it, and literally, every sentence I write from here on out should be read aloud as though there is a question mark at the end, no matter how the actual punctuation reads. Like, I’m so incredulous in this next section, so disturbed this might have actually seen an editor and that editor said, “this is all fine,” and then that editor got paid for doing that, that my voice is stuck on a permanent Valley Girl upward tilt. Because after the little astrology thing, we’re in Mac’s POV. Or, something that appears to be Mac’s POV, indicated by all of the text being italicized.

I’m not kidding.

As you can probably guess, Mac just happened to wander past wardrobe, where the door was open just a crack:

Mac could see Zade standing in nothing but her lace underwear and bra as Lil pulled a measuring tape around her narrow waist. Both pieces were black and nude with lace trim and the panties, which were a high-waisted cut, framed Zade’s body nicely and showed off her curves and small waist.

In case you are wondering, Zade’s waist is small. We know this because it was mentioned twice. I’m actually really disappointed that he didn’t describe her as having “curves in all the right places,” as is the vernacular associated with terrible fiction.

“But Jenny,” I hear you ask, “what about her skin? Her pale, pale Caucasian skin?”

Under the bright lights, Zade’s skin looked porcelain white. She was beautiful. She wasn’t supermodel hot but there was something about her that just made her stand out.

How to make your male main character sound like a dick in five words: “she wasn’t supermodel hot but…” Seriously, way to make it sound like Mac is making a pained exception for her.

Also, this is another case of Not Like Other Girls™. If Lani looked like a supermodel, we couldn’t root for her. Because the beauty of supermodels is so valued as the standard to which all women are held, there’s this resentment toward women who do share any supermodel-like qualities. We see beautiful women in fiction turned into monsters, while average-looking women are the characters to cheer for. But there’s no such thing as an average-looking heroine in a self-insert fic. Instead, we’ll get a list of all the desirable physical qualities the heroine has, while being told that somehow, only on her, these qualities aren’t attractive. I’m truly shocked that we didn’t see her measurements in print; I was kinda looking forward to seeing that she had a 22″ chest, 18″ waist, and a 20″ hip, followed by her cursing her lush, plus-sized body.

He tried to push the thoughts out of his head; he didn’t want to like her. He couldn’t like her. Zade was the enemy. He tried to repeat that to himself.

Be a little more dramatic, Mac.

Mac stares at her and thinks about how just looking at her makes him forget everything. It also apparently makes the author forget how POV works:

Tad walked up and stopped right behind Mac. Mac was so distracted by Zade and his own internal dialogue that he didn’t even notice Tad approaching. Tad looked through the crack in the door, looked at Mac, cracked a wide grin, and crossed his arms. Tad waited for a few moments to see if Mac was going to notice him or even just stop staring at the mostly naked girl on the other side of the door.

Since Tad can’t possibly know that Mac was distracted by his internal dialogue, that sentence would be Mac’s POV. But the rest of this is Tad. In other words, this whole section is written in omniscient third POV. And it’s not written in omniscient third very well. Why? Why is this section written this way? This is not A Christmas Carol. This is not Oliver Twist. This is not David Copper– Oh.

Startled, Mac whipped around and quickly looks to secret just caught him. He didn’t say anything or show it but, secretly, he was relieved that it was his best friend and not someone else that had caught him watching.

Yeah, lucky thing because peeping on performers changing is probably a fireable offense.

The rest of this long paragraph describes silent communication between the two before they walk off somewhere to have a discussion that won’t be overheard. Tad asks why Mac was spying on Lani.

Mac looked Tad dead in the eye and moved his tongue around his gums.

 

“Contemplating how to kill her and dispose of the body without getting caught. […]”

Nothing builds romantic tension like the hero talking about murdering the heroine. I know this is supposed to be cute and funny and an indication that he really likes her. After all, aren’t boys supposed to be mean to the girls they like? I mean, that’s what we tell children all the time. In a country where the third highest cause of death for women ages fifteen to twenty-four is homicide, having the hero of what is advertised as a young adult novel (regardless of whether or not it fits in that category) is just fine.

The gist of this section with Mac and Tad is that people are noticing that Zani makes Mac feel some different ways, something that could only have been accomplished with a weird, italicized section in which the point of view bounces around like a god damn Plinko disk.

Fret not, for the attention cannot be long removed from Zani. After another of those little star-map-triple-goddess-combo page ornaments, we’re back in her POV:

I’m pretty sure every inch of me had been measured–

That is 100% the point of measuring someone. If you missed a few inches, you didn’t measure very well.

and I knew Lil’s entire life story. I could practically tell you anything about, including what she had eaten for breakfast–and, no, I’m not even joking about that one. (She had had scrambled eggs with cheese, turkey bacon, whole-grain toast, and some homemade mango jelly. She had gotten all the ingredients fresh from a local farmer’s market–which she recommended I go and try.)

WHY? WHY DID WE HAVE TO HEAR ABOUT IT? I KNOW THAT ZAAAAAADE HAD TO HEAR ABOUT IT, BUT WHY DID WE HAVE TO HEAR ABOUT IT? WHY IS THERE SO MUCH DETAIL ABOUT THINGS THAT WE ABSOLUTELY NEED NO DETAIL ABOUT? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? I’M A GOOD PERSON! I’M A GOOD PERSON!

With my mind on other things and still excited about my first day, I waltzed out of wardrobe not paying any attention to where I was walking. I still had my head turned, saying goodbye to Lil, when I collided into what one would most certainly call tall, dark, and handsome. He was exactly my type, if I ever had one. I had crashed into him so hard that I started to tumble to the ground. Luckily, he apparently had catlike reflexes and caught me in his arms.

If a Young Adult/New Adult heroine never fell down again, both genres would still be defined by the fact that the heroines can’t stay upright. In the years 2013-2016, I DNFed more books than I finished because I had a rule about not reading any more books where the heroine meets the hero by falling down in front of him. And this is so straight out of Twilight/Fifty Shades of Grey that I can’t even. I can’t even even.

He held me there for a moment, just long enough for me to look into his deep, sparkling eyes. I’m pretty sure I turned every shade of red imaginable, as I was already embarrassed by my clumsiness–

A flaw-that-isn’t-a-flaw.

and then just in awe of his handsome radiance. He pulled me up slowly and gingerly even slightly tighter into him before he placed me upright and back on solid ground.

Oh my god, just leave her on the floor and wait for Mac to murder her.

What was wrong with me?

That didn’t need to be italicized, but you did it, anyway.

I had just turned into a silly fourteen-year-old girl.

Hey, let me give you a tip, Lani Sarem the author and not Lani Sarem the character in this shitty, horrible, half-assed scam of a “novel”: if you’re writing a YA, don’t insult the audience you’re trying to sell your shitty, horrible, half-assed scam of a “novel” to.

The hot hero dream guy (who has a guitar strapped to his back) already knows who Lani is:

“I know who you are. I actually came up and talked to you right after your audition. I was one of the many fawning over you. I’m Jackson Milsap,” he said, smiling broadly. His grin revealed two rows of perfect, white teeth. All I processed was “Jackson.”

Yeah, that’s where I’m getting hung up, too. Because in the foreword, Lani’s inappropriately self-promoting author frenemy mentions that she and Lani met through a Jackson Rathbone fansite while Lani was managing Jackson Rathbone’s former band, 100 Monkeys, who are thanked in the acknowledgements at the end. And the physical description of tall, dark, and handsome musician fits:

Sarem makes sure to reiterate that so many people were fawning over Zani and how amaaaaaaaazing she was, she couldn’t possibly have remembered even the smolderingest of smolderers. Zade blushes and stammers and can’t form complete sentences.

Jackson smiled again and his cheeks dimpled. He ran his fingers through his perfectly tousled dark chestnut hair, and I realized that I was going weak in the knees whenever he smiled.

During the recap of Apolonia, I talked about how certain phrases and sentence structures remove the reader from the action. This is a good example of that. “I realized that I was going” puts what amounts to a tape delay between the reader and the character. If this were an unconscious physical process (“I realized that I was picking the skin beside my thumbnail and immediately stopped myself,” “I realized that I was holding my breath as I waited for their answer,”), it would be slightly more forgivable (although I hate when I notice that in my own writing). In this case, the action is something so uncommon that you wouldn’t momentarily forget it was happening. You wouldn’t realize that your knees went weak. Your knees would just go weak. It would be impossible to ignore, especially if you were a heroine in a badly written YA/NA novel. It would happen so much, it would be all you could think about. You’d probably see a doctor.

What I’m saying is, “My knees went weak whenever he smiled,” would have been just fine.

“So what do you do around here?” Hopefully I would come up with something better while he was answering me. Even worse, I had a pretty good idea what he did, considering he had an electric guitar strapped to his back.

He’s a janitor.

I bit my lower lip and waited for him to respond as if he was about to tell me the meaning of life.

Jackson is the bandleader, singer, and guitar player for the show’s band. Honestly, the way this section is written is so bad, I can’t figure out how to properly critique it. Lani first thinks that he must be in the house band, because of the guitar. Then, after she asks him what he does and he says he’s in the house band, she chastises herself mentally for not just asking if he was in the house band, because of the guitar. Then she says the guitar gave it away. It’s so needlessly repetitive, with exactly the same words used in exactly the same way over and over.

Look, I’m gonna say it right now: if you are a writer, and you were thinking of submitting to the publishing arm of GeekNation, don’t. They do not edit their books, and if they do, the editors who work for them are not qualified to edit a phone book, let alone a novel. This is their flagship title, and it’s indicative of the quality of work they’re capable of. Your book deserves better.

Lani tells Jackson Rathbone that she also plays guitar, because of course she does.

“Sweet. A girl that can play, that’s hot for sure. I think you get bonus points for that.” The comment could have come off jerkish, but the way he said it sounded kind of sweet.

If you wanted him to sound sweet maybe you should have written him actually saying something sweet, Ms. Sarem. Lots of women play guitars, so this comment comes off as super misogynistic. You just included it to make it sound like your self-insert is so special and Not Like Other Girls™, which fails when the thing that makes her Not Like Other Girls™ is incredibly common. Playing guitar isn’t one of those traditionally masculine, gender exclusionary things. I read a statistic one time that said something like thirteen percent of people in the United States play guitar, and while men did outnumber women, it was only slightly. And a lot of the information was pulled from a Guitar Center poll. I speak on behalf of a lot of women when I say that being female and going to Guitar Center is about as enjoyable as being female and going to a convention panel made up entirely of male literary fiction authors, so the number of women playing is likely higher.

Anyway, Lani says they should jam together sometime, even though she knows she isn’t up to his level. He tells her that aside from his gig with David Copperfield, he has his own band, in which he sings and plays guitar, keyboard, and sometimes drums. If you check out the 100 Monkeys Wikipedia entry, you’ll find that Jackson Rathbone also played the guitar, keyboard, and drums in his own band.

Authors, on the other hand…

Look, writers use real people for character inspiration all the time. I think I even gave the advice recently in a Big Damn Writer Advice Column that casting characters like movie roles in your head kept them from all sounding the same. I stick by that. But wow, is it ever hamfisted when the character is not only named after their real-life inspiration, but the real-life inspiration is mentioned in both the foreword and the acknowledgments.

“That’s awesome. Actually, if it’s not too forward–would you mind if I borrowed a guitar sometime?” I asked sweetly. I could have probably said something more profound about how cool it was, him being able to play multiple instruments, and my head started to flood with all the other questions I could have asked about his original band.

I love that she’s describing, “It’s cool that you play multiple instruments,” as a “profound” statement.

Jackson says he keeps a spare guitar in his dressing room, and she should feel free to borrow it. Then he explains that he’s been sent to give her a tour of the theater. Because who better to do so than…a member of the house band? We know there’s a stage manager. We know there are human resources people. But the band leader is going to show her around? I mean, I guess? Weirder things have happened, but it just seems like a really horrible excuse for this meet-cute.

“Yeah, I was sent here to grab you. I volunteered to give the pretty new girl the nickel tour and introduce you to everyone.”

I was doing somersaults in my head. He thought I was pretty.

And nothing says “somersaults in my head” like an exclamation– oh. You’re going with a period there? Okay. I mean, I can see why she wouldn’t be excited about being called pretty since she just came from a town where everyone constantly told her she was pretty.

He put out his arm like guys do on dates sometimes when they want to be sweet. It’s a weakness for me when a guy does it; it makes me feel special somehow.

How? Because people telling you you’re beautiful, fawning over your illusion, giving you an audition and a job out of thin fucking air, none of that has made you feel special?

Lani remembers that she forgot her phone in wardrobe and tells him she’ll be right back.

“Sure. I’ll be right here…waiting for you.” He emphasized the words “right here” and “waiting for you.” I giggled like a schoolgirl. At least I got his reference and joke. Gotta be cool points for that.

I made sure to say, “Thanks, Richard Marx,” before darting back into wardrobe. Unfortunately, that meant that I had that song stuck in my head and it made me wonder if that comment meant he was actually a fan of Richard Marx.

Two things.

Richard Marx is amazing. I went to one of his concerts with my friend Gloria for her sixtieth birthday and I was kind of like, oh man, this is going to be so sad and cheesy. Guess what? It was actually really awesome and one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to, even though I didn’t really know his music that well.
This was marketed as a Young Adult novel. My fourteen-year old’s response when I asked, “Do you know who Richard Marx is?” was complete silence.

Lani goes and gets her phone and heads back to Jackson, thinking:

I had been so scared about my decision to leave home and move to Las Vegas, up until that very moment.

No the fuck you weren’t. We were there Lani. You were listening to The Dixie Chicks and thinking about how you knew exactly what you needed to do with your life. Also, after you got the job, you didn’t even need to consult your tarot cards because you knew you had what you wanted. You don’t get to change your mind now because you met a hot guy and you need to make him seem more important in the story.

Anyway, Jackson takes Lani off on the tour, and the chapter ends. WOW I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS ON THE TOUR IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.

State Of The Trout: Wanna see something creepy?

Hey guys! This is a short update. If you follow me on Twitter, you have heard of my shitty weekend. Two cars, a refrigerator, my laptop and the only keyboard in the house compatible with my iMac broke. the fuck. down. Seriously. Then last night, our Kindle Fire remote stopped working and poor Mr.Jen was like, “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO US?!” But he’s been pretty dramatic recently, anyway.

The point is, the reason I haven’t had a Handbook For Mortals post this week so far is that I was having to use text-to-speech to write it, which makes everything take roughly twelve times longer than just typing. Trying to finagle rides for kids to appointments and activities without a car was equally time-consuming. Now, the reason I’m telling you all of this is that I’ve been very open with my mental health issues and I don’t want anyone to think I’m sliding back down to the low point I was at earlier in the year. I’m fine, just everything I own is broken.

That said, tomorrow there’ll be a Handbook For Mortals recap instead of the advice column, and then next week hopefully everything will be calmed down and returned to normal. In the meantime, I expressed myself through the medium of video. Please watch me talk about my creepy Anthony Head memorabilia collection:

 

Apologies in advance for the lack of captions. When I have a working keyboard, I will absolutely add some.

Anyway, I should have a new keyboard today, USPS willing. Cross your parts for me.

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The Big Damn Writer Advice Column

It’s that time of the week when I answer your anonymous questions about writing and all that stuff connected to it. Every Thursday, I’ll be answering two questions from the Big Damn Writer Question Box.

Q: I always like romances where the two characters are good friends throughout, as opposed to the Pride and Prejudice thing where they hate each other and then fall in love. But they’re hard to not make boring and un-engaging. Do you have any advice?

A: The key to these romances is that something has to come between the two friends to create believable conflict, either internal or external. There’s always the element of, “But if we do this, can we still be friends,” that’s in the story, but that can’t be all that it relies on. That’s where the trouble with creating conflict comes in because believable friends would talk about their issues, right? And you need to know why they’re suddenly looking at each other in a different light. Have they not seen each other in a long time? Did they maybe once carry a torch for the other but decided years ago that it would work, but now circumstances have changed?

Years back, before Harlequin got rid of its Desire imprint, I would binge read those books. Like, two a week or something. I was hooked on them. Unfortunately, this means that the ones that still stick out in my mind are blurred in with a bunch of others and I can’t ever remember titles or authors. However, there was a friends-to-lovers one that worked so freaking well. To best friends decided to invest their money in a vineyard with a B&B on the property. They’re about to open, so they’ve got all the stress of that and they start falling for each other because they’re seeing each other in a new way by becoming business partners. Now, the stakes are higher; it’s much less, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” and a lot more, “we worked so hard for this, what if I bring up how I’m feeling and it destroys it all?” It was super believable.

Another good example I can think of is The Wedding Singer. When Robbie and Julia meet, they’re both with other people, so romance isn’t an option. Even though Robbie ends up single and heartbroken, Julia is still in love and engaged. So, they’re absolutely just friends, with no hope of or inclination toward romance. The conflict arises when they fall for each other, but neither believes they’re what the other truly wants. It’s pretty much the only Adam Sandler movie I can think of where you’re rooting for him to get the girl not because he’s the protagonist and getting the girl is the default, but because you see the friendship between the two of them and you know that they’re a good match for each other. Even if you remove Robbie’s horrible ex and Julia’s jerk fiancé, there’s still plenty of realistic internal conflict for the characters. Robbie makes poor choices in love because he’s desperate to get married and have the kind of relationship his deceased parents had, and Julia believes she needs to find someone stable and dependable, who has a lot of money. It’s what she’s been raised to believe is important. What they personally value provides deeply ingrained emotional conflict that they have to struggle against before they can be together at a realistic conclusion.

Basically, what I’m saying here is that there are some truly thrilling ways to write friends-to-lovers. You just have to provide a believable reason for the couple to fall in love now, as opposed to some other time.

 

Q: I’d like to know how exactly to plot and outline a novel. I have a vague idea but I just don’t know the best way to structure an outline so that it’s organized and keeps me on track with writing the actual story. 

A: There’s no one right way to outline a story. Sometimes you’ll see authors with giant boards in their offices where they’ve got all sorts of color coded sticky notes, or there’s an impossibly intimidating spreadsheet. Other authors write their synopsis first and then build around it. What I do, because it seems more simple to me, is I sit down with a piece of paper and write the important points of what’s going to happen in the book. My original outline for The Sister looked like this (spoilers, for people who read my books):

Sophie on a morning show
sex scene interrupted
trip for class reunion
family meets olivia
Rebecca and Tony get engaged
Taking Olivia to meet Valerie in the cemetery
El-Mudad visits
Recca sees Neil and El-Mudad kiss
Sister arrives EMOTIONAL SCENE
Sophie learns about kidney thing
Sophie finds out Rebecca kept her away
Sophie and Neil run off to England
Meet up with El-Mudad EMOTIONAL SCENE
Return to New York/Sophie’s birthday
Sophie not a match
Sophie and Rebecca finally talk
Holli and Deja have decided to have a baby
Christmas at Langford Court
Rebecca gets married
Sister sends a Christmas card
El-Mudad comes back, says he wants to be with them

If you’ve read the book, you know for sure that very little of this outline resembles the book. Why? Because things change when you start writing. And then, it’s back to the outline. Once I started writing, things started to change. Some of what ended up in this outline will be in different books, but when things start to change, you go back and brainstorm a new outline. My second outline is more in-depth, breaking things down into chapters. I try to keep my chapters confined to two or three separate scenes, so this outline will read:

Ch. 11 Last night with El-Mudad/El-Mudad leaves.

Ch. 12 Holli and Sophie hot tub scene/baby news/Sophie gets blood test.

Ch. 13 Rebecca gets back, fight about kidney/Sophie gets email that sister wants to meet.

Again, not how the book actually went, but it at least gave me a road map of sorts. I outline various sections of a book four or five times, sometimes.

You might have a super detailed outline and run into a scene that needs a full outline all to itself. When I wrote the table read scene for Say Goodbye To Hollywood, I outlined it like this:

How Jessica feels about read process
Who’s there, how the room is set up
Marion addresses and introduces.
Straight read through, no interruptions
Read through begins
Opening scene
Lynn interrupts
Marion reiterates
Lynn makes little tsks
notes and plan for rewrite

Why? Because there were so many characters and so much happening. I just felt like I needed to work the scene out separately from actually writing it. Organizing my thoughts made the scene so much easier to write.

And that’s the point of an outline. Organizing your thoughts in a way that makes sense for you. It’s not meant to be a set of hard-and-fast rules for how your book will absolutely go. You can outline again and again as you go, get super specific or just keep it really simple. You’re just writing what will happen in the book, and if you get to a point in the plan where it doesn’t work, you can re-outline. And if you find it helpful to do it on sticky notes or index cards you can physically move, do that. Or do it in a spreadsheet. Or do it in a text document. All that matters about outlining correctly is that the method you use works for you. If you feel like you’re making progress, that’s all that matters.

Wanna see your questions get answered (or just wanna air a grievance?) Put it in the box!

Jealous Hater Book Club: Handbook For Mortals Chapter 2 The Hermit or “Cifnaf annataz””

So, in Handbook For Mortals news, brace yourselves, because there is a lot. If you need a break, I encourage you to visit author Claribel Ortega’s Tumblr, where she’s writing an excellent Handbook For Mortals fanfic.

So, remember when Lani Sarem insisted that no one gamed the system, that her books weren’t bulk-ordered, that she played by the rules and was viciously robbed of her legitimate success by jealous haters? She hasn’t exactly changed her tune, but she’s definitely singing her sad song of lies in a different key. In an op-ed for Billboard.com, she writes:

If I had purchased the books directly from my distributor, Itasca Books, they would not count as sales for purposes of the New York Times list. If they were purchased from booksellers — brick and mortar or online — they would count. While I didn’t limit my purchases to only those booksellers involved in the Times list, I did purchase books in bulk from booksellers to resell them later at events.

But it’s not a scam, she argues. It’s publishing’s antiquated model that constrains artists that’s at fault for her con game:

What I have chosen to do is to build a community of interrelated fans at these 3D, real-time events. This is part of what I believe is an innovative strategy — one that is aimed at building an entire new franchise in the Hunger Games and Game of Thrones mold, yet without having to give up creative control and a huge cut of the revenue to some synergistic studio giant a la Disney or Fox.

What Sarem is describing here is indie publishing and indie film. It isn’t new or innovative to bring your book to a convention. Self-pub authors do it all the time. And it isn’t new or innovative to make a movie without a studio.

Sarem concludes by saying that she hopes the New York Times will return her book to its rightful #1 slot on their list, albeit with their bulk-sales indicator. But perhaps the most delusional part of her piece is that despite the laughably bad writing, lack of any major star attached to the project, and the total bungling of her brilliant con, Sarem still appears to believe that she’ll be starring in a major film franchise:

That is why we published the book with the film rights already in place, set to produce the first of up to five “Handbook for Mortals” films that will star, in the lead role, yours truly, alongside my producer and co-star, Thomas Ian Nicholas. If all goes well.

However, one amazing thing has come to light in the wake of allegations that Sarem wrote the infamous troll fic My Immortal. It has brought the actual author of My Immortal out of the shadows, and she has a memoir in the works. Because the story is too fascinating to be believed, I won’t say too much here, except that rarely has an internet mystery had such a satisfying and heart-wrenching conclusion.

As Sarem continues to name-drop her connection to various celebrities, especially her former ties to the band Blues Traveler (who fired her), let’s all sing a beautiful ode in her honor, to the tune of the band’s hit, “The Hook”:

It doesn’t matter what you sell

So long as you sell at conventions

It’s such a freakin’ unique way

To make the headlines through deception

And it’s not fair that you lost face

To all those nasty trolls and haters’ campaign

The New York Times should apologize

You’ll take that asterisk and tout it without shame

‘Cause the book brings you fame

From a spot you had to buy

The book brings you fame

You got caught because you lied

The YA world is gonna miss

The stellar prose you tried to bring them

Who wouldn’t want to read another teen witch

Who’s old enough to rent a car

You could have just written a screenplay

And shopped it around to your famous friends

When your biggest names are ’90s stars

Maybe a scam was the way to go

‘Cause the film won’t get made

With the guy from American Pie

The film won’t get made

Here’s a camera you can buy

Con and win, con and win, con and win

That’s the position that you are in

If they find out all the ways you sinned

There’s always blame to pin on the community

At least you get publicity

“A lot of folks are jealous of me”

You’ll just project your problems on the trolls

Go ahead and take somebody’s art all for yourself

Stage pictures of your books up on some shelves

You tried

Now change your name and hide

From the critics who deride and all the deceptions that you tried. Your career is fried,

it died, you killed it with your lies

And all the claims that we won’t buy

about the bullies at the New York Times

You said fuck all the rules

they don’t apply to Lani

That shit might fly in music

It’s much harder to sleaze your way into YA

You’re pissed that none of us wanna kiss your ass,

we pass

And we don’t want to read you

Act innocent and victimized

To try to make a buck

With names to drop, like Mall Cop

You’re delusional please stop because we’re

Not buying your crap

It’s embarrassing to watch

You fail

Please don’t bother to try

My apologies to John Popper for mangling his rhyme scheme.

Now, on to the recap!

 When last we met, Lani had just concluded a triumphant performance of an illusion that won’t impress anyone who sees it. Now, she’s fallen asleep while waiting for Beth to return with human resources paperwork. That is, she’s fallen asleep in the house, where all of the cast and crew are hanging out for some reason.

This is another theater thing that doesn’t happen. In fact, I’ve done shows at theaters where cast and crew weren’t allowed in the house unless they were specifically doing work there or it was a part of the show. It’s definitely not a place that’s cool to just hang out in between or before performances. And definitely, you would not want to be discovered sleeping in a seat while everyone else is working.

But this is Lani we’re talking about, so:

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Cam said softly after lightly touching my shoulder and sitting down next to me. “It looked like you met everyone that works here today. The line to say hello to you after your performance resembled an autograph signing by a boy band. I don’t really know what the latest one is, but Backstreet, Five Directions, One Second of Winter, 98 Celcious, O-City, NSYNC Boys or Old Kids on a Curb or something like that.”

If comedy follows a rule of three, then a rule of seven should make this dialogue twice as hilarious!

She also reads tarot cards and her father is also a stage magician with actual magical powers and oh my god, this is DCU fanfic with Zatanna made up like Suicide Squad Harley Quinn and for some reason Madame Xanadu is her mom.

 

The entire theater was watching me. I could hear whispering. I was used to some of that from where I grew up, but even so I wanted to melt into the floor.

Of course, when the people back home were whispering about her, they were whispering about how gorgeous and kind she was.

Lani agrees to Charles’s condition, and the whole kerfuffle is settled. For them. Because it still isn’t settled for the reader. The fight solved nothing and made nothing about the plot more plausible. In fact, having a character acknowledge stuff like OSHA and safety regulations, then presenting the reader with a solution that doesn’t actually work only drives home the fact that nothing in the scene makes sense. You can’t acknowledge that something doesn’t work, then make it not work and just hope that everyone will go along with it not working.

Charles tells Zade to come to his office, then casually tosses off that they’ll be cutting his girlfriend’s act to fit Lani’s in because of course that’s what he’s going to do.

Sofia, who had been standing off to the side with another performer, looked indignantly at Charles. I watched her redden, as her eyes got wide. She looked as if she was going to kill someone. I wondered if that someone was Charles or me–or maybe both of us. She gave me one terrible death stare, so I’m guessing it was me, before storming up to Charles.

“You’re cutting my main illusion?” she huffed angrily.

So, after the huge diva fit we just saw Lani throw at Mac, we’re not expected to accept Sofia in the role of Carlotta in this particular horror-show production of Phantom of the Copperfield?

Charles met her gaze and raised his eyebrows just slightly. I could tell that she didn’t intimidate him.

Maybe she’s 5’5″.

Everything was always on his terms, including his relationships. I doubt the word “compromise” was in his vocabulary.

How would Zani possibly know this? Again, she met the guy like an hour ago. Tops.

Charles walked closely to her, stroked her face, and took her hand in his. I’m guessing it was meant to be loving, but looked more like he was brushing her off.

Obviously, Charles doesn’t love Sofia. Who could possibly love her, when she is so clearly being set up as the vapid bitch of this piece? And we already know that in stories like this, only one woman gets love, and that woman is the author main character.

Charles tells Sofia that he’s going to work on another illusion for her to be in, then walks away and takes Zade with him. After once again noting that everyone has been staring at her, Zade reminds us that everyone is staring at her:

I could feel everyone watching us as we walked toward his office offstage.

Look, Lani, if you could just stop being so pretty, kind, humble, blue-haired, tough, and talented, this wouldn’t be a problem. But thanks for the heads up about his office being offstage. I thought his fucking desk was like, right in the middle of that water tank.

As we approached his office door no one said anything until they heard the door thud to a close. It was a big heavy door that made a hard pounding noise when it shut, and then I was alone with him.

Again, POV skew. If the door is so big and heavy, she can’t possibly know if people started talking after it shut. Also, let’s appreciate the fact that his office is literally right offstage. They’re on the stage, they walk off the stage, and they’re in his office. I can’t even begin to imagine what this fucking theater looks like. It’s in the round, with legs and tabs over the entrances to the stage that negate the point of theater in the round in the first place, and then directly offstage is an office.

I’m going to draw a floorplan of this monstrosity before this recap is over.

In the office, Charles tells her to sit down.

He was facing the wall, but he spoke deliberately. “Well, my dear. Tell me everything.”

Why is he facing the wall? Is this like, “I want him to face out of the window like Christian Grey on the movie poster, but I can’t because they’re inside a theater inside a casino,” or something? Because all I’m imagining is a Sims character glitching and trying to go through a door that’s been removed.

That’s the way the chapter ends, by the way. With Charles saying “Tell me everything.” So I cannot wait to get to the next chapter to find out how Lani gets out of this mess!

The Big Damn Buffy Rewatch S04E01 “The Freshman”

In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone will probably die of sleep deprivation during this first week of school. She will also recap every episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer with an eye to the following themes:

Sex is the real villain of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer universe.
Giles is totally in love with Buffy.
Joyce is a fucking terrible parent.
Willow’s magic is utterly useless (this one won’t be an issue until season 2, when she gets a chance to become a witch)
Xander is a textbook Nice Guy.
The show isn’t as feminist as people claim.
All the monsters look like wieners.
If ambivalence to possible danger were an Olympic sport, Team Sunnydale would take the gold.
Angel is a dick.
Harmony is the strongest female character on the show.
Team sports are portrayed in an extremely negative light.
Some of this shit is racist as fuck.
Science and technology are not to be trusted.
Mental illness is stigmatized.
Only Willow can use a computer.
Buffy’s strength is flexible at the plot’s convenience.
Cheap laughs and desperate grabs at plot plausibility are made through Xenophobia.
Oz is the Anti-Xander
Spike is capable of love despite his lack of soul
Don’t freaking tell me the vampires don’t need to breathe because they’re constantly out of frickin’ breath.
The foreshadowing on this show is freaking amazing.
Smoking is evil.
Despite praise for its positive portrayal of non-straight sexualities, some of this shit is homophobic as fuck.
How do these kids know all these outdated references, anyway?
Technology is used inconsistently as per its convenience in the script.
Sunnydale residents are no longer shocked by supernatural attacks.
Casual rape dismissal/victim blaming a-go-go
Snyder believes Buffy is a demon or other evil entity.
The Scoobies kind of help turn Jonathan into a bad guy.
This show caters to the straight/bi female gaze like whoa.
Sunnydale General is the worst hospital in the world.
Faith is hyper-sexualized needlessly.
Slut shame!
The Watchers have no fucking clue what they’re doing.
Vampire bites, even very brief ones, are 99.8% fatal.
Economic inequality is humorized and oversimplified.
Buffy is an abusive romantic partner.
Riley is the worst.
Joss Whedon has a problem with fat people.

Have I missed any that were added in past recaps? Let me know in the comments.  Even though I might forget that you mentioned it.

WARNING: Some people have mentioned they’re watching along with me, and that’s awesome, but I’ve seen the entire series already and I’ll probably mention things that happen in later seasons. So… you know, take that under consideration, if you’re a person who can’t enjoy something if you know future details about it.

Sunnydale High is a cold crater in the ground and it’s time for us all to move on to Buffy: The College Years. Everyone is going to go through some new and exciting changes, and I think we’re all going to come out better for them.

Just not in this episode.

We open on a cemetery, where Buffy and Willow are trying to figure out Buffy’s class schedule for the upcoming semester. Buffy is considering dropping her psychology class in favor of something else, and Willow protests, saying it’s an interesting class and counts for a science credit. Also?

Willow: “Anyway, Professor Walsh is supposed to be great. She’s like, world-renowned.”

Boom. There we go. Big bad mentioned before the opening credit sequence. I think the only other time this happens is in season one, isn’t it?

Anyway, Buffy blames a summer of heavy slayage for putting off deciding on her courses for the semester. So, I can tell her right now for free that the pop culture class she wants is full. All the classes where you just watch TV or listen to music get snapped up immediately. While she and Willow talk about this stuff, a vampire rises from his grave behind them. He grins evilly to himself as he sneaks toward the girls, but stops when he sees the crossbow and stakes beside Buffy. He wisely chooses to hit the road while Buffy continues to talk about college:

Buffy: “I just can’t let it take the edge off of my slaying. I gotta stay sharp. Is this guy ever gonna wake up?”

After the credits, we join Buffy on the UC Sunnydale campus, where she’s overwhelmed by the crowd, the folder color orientation system, and vague, yet loud, protests.

I was thinking the other day about the whole thing with Joss Whedon being even more of a douchebag Male Feminist™ than we previously understood, and wondering how that would affect my analysis and enjoyment of Buffy. This throw-away moment is a great example of how Whedon’s real life actions have affected my consumption of the show. Why? Because in the past, I saw this as just a quick workaround wherein the audience could see an example of a campus activist group recruiting on the first day of classes, without highlighting a specific agenda or controversial issue, thus alienating viewers. “Look, it’s a campus group demonstrating. This is a different environment than Buffy is used to. No need to get into a bunch of details.” That’s all it was, in my mind. Now, having read the allegations of how Whedon treated the women he worked with, how he monetized feminist branding to benefit himself, I look at this moment differently. I see a dude bro making a crack about social justice warriors (though the term wasn’t really in use at the time, the stereotype existed), outraged women in particular. Whether or not he intended this as a mean-spirited joke about those hysterical Feminazis or whatever, I don’t know. But as Whedon wrote this episode, and as we now know more about his personal attitudes versus his public persona, it suddenly takes on a new possible meaning and makes me feel like I can’t trust the show anymore.

That’s not to say I don’t still have a lot of fondness for it. It just means that my feelings of betrayal are a lot deeper than I expected them to be, even after all these years of watching Whedon fuck up.

Anyway, as Buffy tries to find the right building, she’s inundated with flyers for like, more protests and getting saved by Jesus and a really gross party where they’re giving out Jell-o shots free to freshman girls. Ugh, why are dudes so gross?

Luckily, Buffy runs into Willow, who isn’t overwhelmed. She’s jacked up about all the school she’s about to do. She also has a bunch of flyers:

Willow: “I’ve heard about five different issues, and I’m angry about each and every one of them. What did you get?”

Buffy: “Jello-shots.”

Willow: “I didn’t get Jello-shots. I’ll trade you for a Take Back The Night.”

See above. I didn’t necessarily think this was cute before (ha ha, she’s trading a flyer about a campus anti-rape group for a flyer about a party where she’ll definitely get raped), but now it seems less clueless, more sinister. It doesn’t matter what the original intent was. Whedon’s actions now cast these little moments in a whole new light.

Willow is perhaps a little too excited about this next chapter in her academic life:

Willow: “It’s just, in high school, knowledge was pretty much frowned upon. You really had to work to learn anything. But here the energy, the collective intelligence, it’s like this force, this penetrating force, and I can just feel my mind opening up, you know? And letting this place just thrust into and spurt knowledge into… That sentence ended up in a different place than it started out in.”

Buffy is already feeling trepidation because she didn’t get to school on time to get her student ID without waiting in a line, and also because she’s not as excited about the spurting as Willow is. Buffy and Willow run into Oz, who mentions the chaotic busy-ness of the campus. Buffy is relieved that she’s not the only one who feels out of place, but as she’s saying so, an acquaintance of Oz’s stops to chat with him. Since he’s in a band, Oz is no stranger to UC Sunnydale (where Dingoes has played many times before) and knows people and his way around already. He confidently helps the guy with directions, while Buffy silently realizes that yup, she’s still alone in her doubts and worries.

Since one was a big part of their high school lives, Buffy and Willow check out the library. Buffy mentions that it’s too bad Giles couldn’t just become a librarian at the college.

Willow: “Well, he says he’s enjoying being a gentleman of leisure.”

Buffy: “Gentleman of leisure? Isn’t that just British for unemployed?”

Willow: “Uh-huh. He’s a slacker now.”

Slacker!Giles is my second favorite Giles.

The subject of slackers naturally turns to Xander, who’s still on his post high school road trip. He told Willow he wouldn’t return to Sunnydale until he’d driven to all fifty states. She didn’t have the heart to tell him about Hawaii. Buffy says it’ll be nice to have the gang back together and hanging out in the library again…until she sees that the library is roughly the size of a ninth century Spanish mosque. And of course, Willow has to compare it to the old Sunnydale High library, which wasn’t as big and didn’t have as many non-occult books in it. We definitely get the feeling that Willow’s litany of “high school sucked in comparison to this” is bringing Buffy down.

At the campus bookstore, we get some awful foreshadowing.

Buffy: “I can’t wait till mom gets the bill for these books. I hope it’s a funny anyeurism.”

OH MY GOD WHY?! WHY?! FUCK YOU #21!

While trying to reach for a book on a high shelf, Buffy knocks a bunch of very heavy textbooks onto the head of a handsome dude who stole Aaron Carter’s haircut:

This is Riley Finn. He is the worst. Now, even though he won’t do anything that’s the worst yet, I’m still going to add a number to the list in preparation. #38: Riley is the worst.

Riley is Dr. Walsh’s teaching assistant, and he’s just as psyched about her class as Willow is. Meanwhile, Buffy stumbles through the conversation. I assume this is due to her uncontrollable attraction to our generic white love interest.

Buffy goes to her dorm room and meets her roommate, Kathy. She’s very talkative and peppy and positive and she has great taste in music:

I know this is supposed to show that Kathy is tragically uncool, but I will brook no slander against my French-Canadian Goddess of Song.

That night, Buffy struggles to sleep through Kathy’s apnea snoring and dream giggling. The next morning finds Buffy in that pop culture class:

Profesor: “The point of this course is not to critique popular American culture. It is not to pick at it or look down upon it, and it is not to watch videos for credit […]”

Dude, I have already failed your class.

As the professor is talking, Buffy whispers to another student to ask if the class is full yet. And the professor, a nasty looking little ego-maniacal prick of a man who is clearly ready to take his superiority complex out on his female students, decides to make an example of her:

Professor: “And there are two people talking at once and I know that one of them is me and the other is…a blonde girl. You. Blonde girl. Stand up.”

“Now, Jenny,” you might be thinking, “this dude has every right to tell someone to stop talking in his class.” Sure he does. But he doesn’t have every right to embarrass and devalue a young female student by condescendingly referring to her as “Blonde Girl” and making her stand up in front of the entire lecture hall. That’s some shitty, sexist shit. Granted, I did not finish college, but I can think of twice in my entire time there that any instructor called someone out for whispering to their neighbor, and they managed to do it without being giant misogynists about it. One was like, “You realize this is an ASL class, but we’re not all actually Deaf?” which will never not be funny to me. Like, who talks out loud during a mostly-signed class?

Anyway, the professor asks Buffy what was so important that she needed to talk in his class, and she tries to explain that she didn’t know if there were openings left and she was told to just show up to find out. But the guy isn’t interested in hearing any of that. He tells her she’s sucking energy from everyone in the room and shouts at her to leave. So, Buffy’s first experience in college is being humiliated in front of like, a hundred people by a guy who probably went home and jerked off about it later.

Buffy runs into Riley in a hallway and asks him how his head is doing, but it takes him a minute to remember her and why she would ask him that. Then, when he does, he refers to her as Willow’s friend, and the sudden removal of Buffy’s identity makes her visibly uncomfortable. Riley walks her to psych class, where she meets up with Willow. When she asks Buffy how the pop culture class was, Buffy tells her she decided not to take it because it was dull.

Enter Professor Walsh:

Professor Walsh: “Okay, this is pysch 105, introduction to psychology. I’m Profesor Walsh. Those of you who fall into my good graces will come to know me as Maggie. Those of you who don’t will come to know me by the name my TAs use and think I don’t know about, The Evil Bitch Monster of Death.”

Is Ana Steele one her of TAs? Because that’s just like, a hop, skip and a jump away from “The Bitch Troll.”

Walsh tells the students that the class is going to be difficult and that if they want an easy class they should try Geology 101, because that’s “where the football players are.” (#11)

So, Buffy is strolling around campus at night and runs into another student, Eddie, who’s gotten lost. They walk together to their dorms and talk about Walsh’s psych class and how UC Sunnydale was supposed to be a party school. He tells her how much he loves Of Human Bondage, which she thinks is a porno, and they begin a tenuous friendship out of their mutual sense of being overwhelmed by the college experience. When they part ways to go to their separate buildings, Eddie watches Buffy go with a little smile. He’s so distracted by this pretty young woman that he’s easily ambushed by a group of vampires who have stepped right out of a post-grunge alternative music video:

After the break, the grunge vampires ransack Eddie’s dorm room, throwing things into boxes and emptying the place out. At psych the next day, Buffy is confused when she can’t find Eddie. She goes to his dorm and finds the place completely empty. An RA tells her that it’s normal, sometimes people bail during the first week. Besides a note explaining that school is just too much to handle, Eddie has also left behind his copy of Of Human Bondage, which he’d previously described as his security blanket he takes everywhere.

So, where is Eddie? Laying all gray on the floor of a room full of vampires, surrounded by piles of stuff. The main blonde-girl vampire is sorting through Eddie’s CDs, complaining that they’re not good enough and they need to kill cooler people. Shit, kill Kathy. I guarantee she’s got a whole STACK of Celine Dion cassettes.

Hey, ready for a killer moment of super original, never-before-heard comedy?

Red-head Vampire: “Does this sweater make me look fat?”

Blonde Vampire: “No, the fact that you’re fat makes you look fat. That sweater just makes you look purple.”

I direct you to TVTropes.com’s pages, “Does This Make Me Look Fat” , featuring not one, but THREE entries on Joss Whedon.

Actually, no. I direct you there after you finish this recap. Because once you get over there, that’s the rest of your day all used up.

The surfer-guy vampire gets everyone’s attention because he’s got a poster for their ongoing poster wall competition. It’s Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss,” which he staples on the wall over several others like it.

Surfer-Guy Vampire: “Big score for Klimt. Monet still well in the lead, but look out for Team Klimt, coming from behind.”

They’ve got a tally board and everything, and are apparently racing “The Kiss” against “Water Lilies” and it’s so painfully true, you guys. Everyone I knew who lived in a college dorm at this time had one or the other.

Blonde Vampire: “Freshman. Man, they’re so predictable.”

Surfer-Guy Vampire: “And you can never eat just one.”

Red-head Vampire: “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

Blonde Vampire: “What a shock.”

Do you guys want to see this tragically obese girl who deserves to be endlessly mocked for her weight?

Buffy is on the few shows where I really don’t think of it as having a lot of fat shaming. There are definite instances, even besides this one, but it’s nothing on par with, say, 30 Rock, in which we are constantly told that size-four-at-best Tina Fey is grotesquely fat and unloveable because of it. If I were going to list the top ten worst TV fat-shaming offenders, Buffy wouldn’t make the cut. Which is what makes this scene stick out even more. There’s no need for it. The blonde vampire (I think her name is Sunday or Tuesday or something, I haven’t looked it up yet and they haven’t said it) is already unlikeable. She’s a vampire who kills students and steals their stuff. We don’t need the fat shaming on top of it. The only reason these lines are in here is to be cruel for cruelty’s sake.

The blonde vampire complains that she needs better minions, and the “fat” vampire tells her that if she’s going to act like that, she can have “Dead Eddie” hunt for their dinner. Blonde vampire says that was her plan, and Eddie’s eyes open.

If I were a vampire, I would for sure call myself Dead Eddie.

Meanwhile, at Giles’s house, Buffy lets herself right on in and…

This is why people knock, Buffy.

She asks the stranger if Giles still lives there, and Giles emerges in his bathrobe. He introduces the woman as his “old friend” Olivia. Remember the “old friend” thing, because I’m gonna address it again in a later episode. Oh, also of note, she refers to him as “Ripper.” Again, keep that in mind, because I want to point out a glaring inconsistency when we get to “Hush”.

Anyway, Buffy tries to take off by saying it’s a bad time, but Giles insists that she tell him what she came to see him about.

Buffy: “This is a bad time.

Giles: “You keep saying that–”

Buffy: “Well, it looks pretty bad! I think someone had just a little too much free time on their hands!”

Giles: “I’m not supposed to have a private life?”

Buffy: “No! Because you’re very, very old and it’s gross.”

Obviously, this is thrilling news for Giles to hear.

I bet you’re wondering, “Jenny, why aren’t you posting a picture of Giles in his bathrobe? That seems like it would be right up your alley.” Well, because it’s a fucking hideous bathrobe, friends, and if I’m ever to find Giles attractive again, I have to avoid creating permanent memories of it. Ugh, it looks like it’s made of an unholy blend of microfiber and velvet or something.

Anyway, Buffy tells Giles that a student went missing and she found signs of a scuffle and an RA told her that students go missing all the time. Giles listens but points out that none of what Buffy is telling him is unusual or something that’s too big for her to handle.

Buffy: “Remember before you became Hugh Heffner, when you used to be a Watcher?”

Giles: “Well, officially you no longer have a Watcher. Buffy, you know I’ll always be here when you need me. Your safety is more important to me than anything. But you are going to have to take care of yourself. You’re out of school and I can’t always be there to guide you.”

Hey, friends. Can one of you help me out? When Buffy walks into Giles’s house, David Bowie’s “Memory Of A Free Festival” is playing in the background, but it’s not the version from Space Oddity. Instead of an electric organ backing the vocals, there are guitars. I wasted a lot of my time this morning trying to track it down. I went through all my albums and I tried Spotify and YouTube and I cannot find that version of the song and it’s driving me up a wall. It’s not the version on Bowie At The Beeb. If you can tell me where it’s from, even if it’s from a freaking bootleg or something, please let me know in the comments.

That night, Buffy patrols campus by herself. She spots Eddie and chases him down, only to find he’s all vamped out:

Buffy: “God, I was worried that something had happened to you and of course it has because you’re a vampire.”

She fights Eddie and stakes him, and the vampire gang steps out of the shadows. The main vampire, the blonde one, introduces herself:

Blonde Vampire: “I’m Sunday. I’ll be killing you here in a minute or so.”

Buffy: “You know, that threat gets more frightening every time I hear it.”

Surfer-Guy Vampire: “Uh, are we gonna fight, or is there just gonna be a monster sarcasm rally?”

Surfer-Guy should be leading this group. I would hang out with him.

Buffy and Sunday fight and Sunday really kicks Buffy’s ass. But, not without a little “look how I subvert misogyny!” misogyny:

Sunday: “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you fight like a girl.”

Ha ha, see, if one girl says it to another it’s funny and I’m empowering women by writing it! See, it’s like, she’s saying, “You fight like a girl,” but she’s a girl and she can fight better, so using a “fight like a girl” as an insult to show that not fighting like a girl is superior is feminist! I didn’t subvert anything (I actually reinforced it) but I think I did, so I’m brilliant! (#6)

Yeah, okay. I’m going to be extra hard on Joss episodes in light of his nonsense. I see that now. We’re all just going to deal with it.

Buffy, realizing she’s outnumbered and that Sunday is stronger than her, runs from the fight. Because (#16). I’m not saying Buffy can never have an off day, or that no vampire is ever going to get the jump on her. But this isn’t like when the vampire stakes her in season five. She gets her ass fully handed to her, basically just to demoralize her further. We just saw her fight another Slayer two episodes ago. Maybe she needed to run from this fight, but the way she gets tossed around like a rag doll is unbelievable to me.

Part of me wonders (because Whedon) if Buffy getting beat up here isn’t supposed to be like, “Oh, look, she’s so sad and emotional, and being sad and emotional has made her physically weak because that’s how women work.” I mean, did you read his Wonder Woman screenplay?

Buffy goes back to her dorm room and nurses her injuries, and in the morning she spots Willow and Oz happily talking to another student, totally well-adjusted already somehow. In the vampire nest, the vamps are making fun of Buffy behind her back, mocking her outfit and talking about how weak she was. Sunday says Buffy won’t last the night and tells her minions to head to the tunnels below the town.

Discouraged, Buffy goes home, intending to stay there for a few nights, only to find that while she’s been gone, she’s basically lost her place there, too, as Joyce has filled her entire bedroom with crates full of artifacts.

Joyce: “You know, I didn’t think you’d be back for a couple of weeks. But I didn’t move anything. It’s still your room.”

Buffy: “You filled it with packing crates.”

Joyce: “Yeah, but I didn’t move anything.”

Buffy: “If it’s still my room, shouldn’t I be able to fit in it?”

Joyce: “Well, it’s just for a couple of weeks while we do inventory at the gallery. I just really didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

Buffy: “Neither did I.”

Downstairs, the phone rings, and when Buffy answers, there’s no one there. Since there’s no place for her to sleep at home, she returns to her dorm to find her side of the room completely cleaned out, just like Eddie’s was, in preparation for her death. There’s even a note, saying basically the same thing as the note they left for Eddie.

If there’s one place that Buffy can count on, it’s the Bronze. Of course, her crowd isn’t there. Angel isn’t going to show up to be mysterious. Oz’s band isn’t playing. Cordelia isn’t slinking around being bitchy. For a moment, Buffy thinks she sees Angel, but it’s just a guy who looks like him. So, basically, a dude in his mid-to-late thirties hanging out with all the kids. This isn’t “Band Candy,” dude. Take a hike.

Just as Buffy is realizing that she’s lost in her last refuge from change, Xander’s there. He got into town a few days before, but he didn’t want to help Willow and Buffy move, so he laid low for a while. When Buffy asks how his great American road trip went, he tells her saw the Grand Canyon. The movie, Grand Canyon.

Xander: “Basically, I got as far as Oxnard and the engine fell out of my car. And that was literally. So, I ended up washing dishes at the fabulous Ladies’ Nightclub for about a month and a half while I tried to pay for the repairs. No one really bothered me, or even spoke to me, until one night when one of the male strippers called in sick, and no power on this earth will make me tell you the rest of that story. Suffice to say, I traded my car in for one that wasn’t entirely made of rust, came trundling back home to the arms of my loving parents where everything was exactly as it was except I sleep in the basement and I have to pay rent. How’s college?”

Damn, Xander! I’m not even going to label this #36, because it actually calls out Buffy’s economic privilege. While some people might see this story as a funny, “Oh, that Xander,” kind of moment, the “how’s college” at the end has me cheering every time. There will be plenty of opportunities to critique the show’s weird ideas of poverty, but “I’m stranded far from home, trying to get enough money to get back” is so real for so many people. I love the fact that Xander isn’t letting his friend forget that he lives in a much, much different world than she does.

Xander asks Buffy why she’s so down in the dumps, and she explains that her experience with the vampire gang was kind of demoralizing. In a humorous bit of unintentional foreshadowing of Joss’s life, Xander says:

Xander: “Then where’s the gang? Avengers assemble, let’s get it going!”

Buffy tells him that she doesn’t want to burden her friends with this nonsense.

Xander: “Buffy, I’ve gone through some fairly dark times in my life. Faced some scary things. Among them, the kitchen at the fabulous Ladies’ Nightclub. Let me tell you something: when it’s dark and I’m all alone and I’m scared or freaked out or whatever, I always think, ‘What would Buffy do?’ You’re my hero.”

This is the Xander I love. This is the side of him that makes him one of Buffy’s greatest allies. He doesn’t offer to help with magic or tell her what he thinks she should do. He really does try to think of what’s best for her in most cases, and he knows when to bust out the tough love and when love is all that’s needed.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t stop talking.

Xander: “Okay, sometimes, when it’s dark and I’m all alone I think, ‘what is Buffy wearing…”

God damnit, Xander. (#5)

But his pep talk is enough to get Buffy out of her slump, and he makes it clear he’s going to help her in any way she needs.

They break into an office at the college and look over records on the computer, subverting #15. So, I guess that one only applies if Willow is in the room when the scene takes place. Buffy finds that a number of students abruptly leave campus every year, but not enough that it ever raises any alarms. They find out that a zoning issue has kept a disbanded fraternity’s house vacant since the ’80s, when the disappearances first started. They decide that must be where the vampires are nesting and hoarding all the students’ stuff.

At the frat house, Buffy and Xander spy on the vampires through a skylight. The vamps are going through all of Buffy’s things and making fun of her. Sunday holds up some of Buffy’s clothes:

Buffy: “Oh! That’s my skirt! You’re never going to fit in it with those hips. We have to kill them.”

We have to kill them…because a girl with wider hips than mine dares think that my clothes could fit her.

You know what? I’m adding that number now. Just to be petty and spiteful. #39: Joss Whedon has a problem with fat people. And that’s not just me being too critical of a few lines of dialogue in this single episode. Later this season, when Tara is introduced, keep in mind that he had this to say about actress Amber Benson on the DVD commentary:

“I was thinking of somebody more physically like Alyson: smaller and… [long pause] less womanly than Amber. It was [executive producer] Marti Noxon, when Amber auditioned, who said – you know, she knew the physical type I was thinking of because I really wanted that vulnerability. […]”

In Joss’s worldview, women who aren’t delicate and sylphlike can’t be vulnerable. Because we’re all tanks, or something.

Lest you think, “Jenny, why are you saying ‘fat people’? Sunday isn’t fat! The red-headed vampire isn’t fat! Amber Benson isn’t fat, for Christ’s sakes!” let me assure you that I agree.  But if Whedon has a problem with the hips of a woman as slim as the actress playing Sunday, I guarantee that he has a problem with the hips of a person who’s actually fat. That fact that there are literally no fat people on Buffy, with the exception of a few demons depicted as fat to make them more hideous and disgusted (they were probably portrayed by thin actors in fat suits) makes these comments even more insulting; not only are extremely thin actresses mocked for their “fat” bodies in the script, actual fat people don’t exist in the Buffyverse. We might as well be invisible to Joss Whedon. He can’t even be bothered to put us on the screen to mock us.

Why yes, I have reached critical “FUCK THAT GUY.”

Buffy doesn’t see her weapons in the nest, so she sends Xander to get them from either her room or Willow’s. Then, leaning directly on the glass of the skylight, Buffy monologues:

Buffy: “Laugh all you want. This time, we play it my way. And the rules are gonna be just a little bit–”

The glass breaks mid-sentence, tumbling Buffy directly into the center of the vampire group. After a commercial break comes the pre-fight banter:

Buffy: “You got a nice setup here. But you made one mistake.”

Sunday: “What was that?”

Buffy: “Well, I’m not actually positive, but statistically speaking, people usually make at least–”

Sunday punches her in the face, and we cut to Buffy’s dorm room, where Kathy is showing Oz and Willow the note the vampires left behind. Willow says it’s not like Buffy to run away, except for the time she ran away, but they’re certain that something is fishy. Which makes Kathy feel real secure, knowing her roommate once ran away for months and changed her identity. Willow realizes that she and Oz have been so wrapped up in their own lives that they haven’t been paying attention to anything that’s going on with Buffy. As they try to figure out the problem, Xander shows up and tries to subtly clue them in on what’s happening without revealing anything to Kathy:

Xander: “Well, some friends of Buffy’s played a funny joke and they took her stuff, and now she wants our help to get it back from her friends who sleep all day and have no tans.”

Very slick, Xander.

Thinking Buffy is still just hanging out on the roof, Xander tells Willow and Oz they have a little time. In reality, Buffy is struggling hard. She spots her weapons chest and tries to crawl to it, but Sunday cuts her off. She mocks the Class Protector award from Buffy’s senior year and breaks it in half. That’s all Buffy needs to get her spirit back. Sunday twists Buffy’s hurt arm and says:

Sunday: “You know, this arm’s not looking so good. It might have to come off.”

Buffy: “You wanna know the truth? I only need one.”

BA-BAM! You do not fuck with the only symbol of recognition of Buffy’s sacrifice that she has ever received. Because that gets her going. She’s mopping in the floor with Sunday and the Red-Headed vampire, while the dude bro vampires decide to run. But then the doors burst open and in come Xander, Oz, and Willow, repelling the vamps with a cross and shooting them with a crossbow.

I wonder if just turning a crossbow sideways would repel a vampire. That would free up a hand.

Buffy and Sunday continue to banter, and the red-headed vampire flees. As Sunday gloats about breaking the Slayer’s arm, Buffy punches her square in the face to prove it’s not actually broken. Xander asks Buffy if she needes help, and she does a sassy little stake twirl as she declines. Then she throws Mr. Pointy right through Sunday’s chest. And rather than looking shocked or scared or anything, Sunday puts her hands on her hips, annoyed, as she crumbles to dust.

As the gang leaves the house, Xander asks what’s going to happen to all the stuff inside. While Oz feels that taking it would be wrong, Xander has no moral qualms about getting himself a new rowing machine. Then, Giles literally runs to Buffy, his arms full of weapons:

Giles: “I’ve been awake all night. I know I’m supposed to teach you self-reliance, but I can’t leave you out there to fight alone. To hell with what’s right. I’m ready to back you up. Let’s find the evil and fight it together.”

Cough, #2, cough. I told you season four is where this shit ramps up. Let’s think about the context of these lines in conjunction with new, casual Giles. Buffy is out of high school and ostensibly an adult. Angel is out of her life and she is currently boyfriendless. What does Giles do? Seemingly re-establishes a sexual relationship with a former lover and emotionally distances himself from Buffy, almost as if to ensure that one of them is unavailable in as many ways as possible, thus eliminating the chance that he might act on his essentially forbidden love for her. Then he changes his mind and runs to her and stammers through an impassioned speech about “To hell with what’s right” and fighting together and, oh yeah, lying awake all night thinking about her and the mistake he’s made in emotionally backing off from her. This is basically Giles declaring his love but framing it as his Watcher duties.

Buffy says thanks, real casual, and Willow asks Giles to carry a box as they all head back to Buffy’s dorm, her confidence in herself and her friends restored, ready to take on college life.

One of the vampires who escaped Sunday’s nest runs, panicked, across the campus. Suddenly, he’s tasered by a group of heavily armed soldiers who emerge from the bushes. They converge on him and we cut to the end titles.

In terms of Buffy season openers, this one is by far the weakest. It’s also high in the running for worst Buffy episode of all time. I would go so far as to say it’s the weakest Buffy episode that Whedon ever wrote himself. There are too many unanswered questions: who is Sunday? Why is she fixated on college kids, and the Sunnydale campus in particular? How can the same group of vampires get into the residence halls over and over again every year without anyone noticing, recognizing, or connecting them to the disappearances? How do they even get into the residence halls at all? To enter Sunnydale High, Angelus had to have an invite from the words over the door. Do “Welcome, students!” banners apply if the vampires themselves are former students? If so, why don’t welcome mats apply if vampires have ever been welcome anywhere?

Also, Sunday is the most obnoxious vampire in Buffy‘s entire run, and we don’t get as much satisfaction out of her death as we deserve.

All of that over-analyzing aside, this episode does show one of the major strengths in Whedon’s writing, which is his ability to directly communicate with the audience without being too obvious. In this episode, Buffy is an avatar for the viewer; we’re unsure of how the dynamic of the show is going to change while the characters are in college. We worry that our TV friends are going to change, but we know they have to, lest the story stagnates. But they all prove themselves to us in the end, and we’re ready for the new adventures ahead. “Don’t worry,” the script says. “We’re not going to abandon you after we’ve spent all these years together.”

Unfortunately, the episode’s theme isn’t enough to overcome the clunky characterization, fat hate, cartoonish depiction of college, and the just way, way too much plot and new character set up crammed into the fifty minute run time.

The Big Damn Writer Advice Column

It’s that time of the week when I answer your anonymous questions about writing and all that stuff connected to it. Every Thursday, I’ll be answering two questions from the Big Damn Writer Question Box.

Q: What are your thoughts on writing children believably if you do not spend time with children?

A: This one is tricky. My first instinct is to say, “spend time with children,” but that’s a stupid thing to say because it’s not like you can just acquire children. People tend to think it’s a little sketch to be like, “Hey, I’m researching a book. Give me access to your children, strangers.” On the other hand, I also kind of think, why would someone want to write about children if they don’t know kids? Don’t take that personally. It’s the first week of school and my kids aren’t adjusted to their sleep schedules and they’re cranky as hell and I just want to escape into a paradise where no one yells at me when they can’t find their Harley Quinn headband.

So, onto the actual advice that will help you: books about developmental stages in children. Even though I have kids of my own, I had to turn to What To Expect The Second Year to remember how to write Olivia in The Sister. It’s just been too long to remember what kids are like at that age. You can find tons of parenting books that lay out developmental milestones and analysis of thought processes that we’ve forgotten experiencing as adults. For example, if you’re writing pre-teen and teen girls, pick up Reviving Ophelia and Queen Bees and Wannabes. Writing teen boys? Masterminds and Wingmen. You’ll be able to find books on kids of any age, and they’re going to keep you from falling into the trap of writing unrealistic or underdeveloped child characters. Read about kids who aren’t neurotypical, too.

One caution when writing kids: precocious children like the kid from Jerry McGuire work well on screen, but become eye-roll inducing drags on the story in books. I don’t know why this happens. But avoid the trap of writing the perfect, always cute, well-behaved-unless-the-trouble-is-humorous child characters. For a great example of well-written, realistic children in a novel, check out Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng (which is a fairly dark book, so, warning there) and Sustained, by Emma Chase.

 

Q: I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and any time I’ve stopped writing I’ve started up again, but recently I’ve felt really discouraged. I’ve been taking writing classes, and try to schedule “writing time”, but no matter how hard I try I just can’t seem to find the words. It’s like I’ve lost my voice. Even my journal writing has stopped. Help?

A: So, you’re taking writing classes. I assume you’re having to write for assignments? That’s where your writing went. There is a finite amount of mental energy a person has in a day, and if you’re writing for your assignments, or even just sitting through a class where your whole focus is writing, it might just be that your brain doesn’t shift gears easily from that. That’s not to say you should stop taking the classes if you’re enjoying them. It just means you have to structure your writer brain differently.

I’m prone to this kind of burn out, so I added a special section in my journal every week. It’s adapted from an article about how to function with adult ADHD:

I’ve blurred out some of the more personal stuff and projects that I haven’t announced yet. But anyway, I’ve found that having a visual that I can put together in the morning and go, “This is what I have to write today, this is how I’m going to accomplish this, but hey, what’s holding me back and what can I do to fix that,” as well as having an overview of my bigger goals for the week, helps me not get overwhelmed. (For those interested in planning and bullet journals, this is a “Dutch Door” spread; the other days of the week are on the other side of the split.) I used to struggle changing gears, but now my productivity has shot up because I have my thoughts organized and I’ve thought about the stuff that might be dragging my writing down.

This might help you manage the writing you’re doing for your classes and your own writing. Even if you’re just writing down, “Write for ten minutes,” and that’s all you can do, great. I’m also a big fan of the Pomodoro method of time management for building up your writing focus muscles. But remember: you have permission to be a writer and go through periods where writing is hard. It doesn’t make you less of a writer. It makes you a writer.

Wanna see your questions get answered (or just wanna air a grievance?) Put it in the box!

True Blood Tuesday S05E01, “Turn! Turn! Turn!”

Ding dang, we made it to season five, y’all! Here’s the file. Hit play when the HBO sound and logo fade.

SPONSORED: Tee-Of-The-Week

Astute readers will notice that I have an ad–GASP!–in the sidebar of my blog. Now, prepare yourself for a weekly advertising post.

For my inaugural Tee-Of-The-Week (which is chosen by me, I’m not told which products to feature), I choose this incredible beast:

If you would like to wear this visual representation of my soul, you may purchase it here. 5% of the purchase price is donated to charity, and you get to tell them where to send it!

Jealous Haters Book Club: Handbook for Mortals Chapter 1 “The Magician” or “That’s not how any of this works.”

Before we get to the recap proper, I want to warn some readers about potentially sensitive content. That is, I want to warn you that if you’ve ever worked in the theater in any capacity, you will be fully outraged through this entire chapter, to the point that you might want to throw your phone or laptop or tablet or however else you’re reading this. So, read this only a soft surface to prevent damage to your device, and try not to fling it too hard.

In other news, Kayleigh Donaldson’s piece at Pajiba has been updated to include a response from Gill de Mace’s agent about the cover art controversy, as well as what might be the most bizarre aspect of this entire drama: the author of the infamous My Immortal has spoken. You can read her full statement at Pajiba, but this is the highlight:

Because I’ve received several messages asking this, and predict I may receive more, I’ll answer it here. No, I am not Lani Sarem. Really bad fiction simply tends to read the same.

Imagine if the writer of My Immortal, the most notoriously horrible fanfic of all time, called your work “bad fiction”? How could you ever possibly recover from that? You’d have to change your identity and start fresh with a new life. I mean, really, imagine that the author of My Immortal wanted to distance herself from your work.

I might not want to date him but I did like him immediately.

Good news! He didn’t ask you out on a date. Yet. We all know it’s going to happen and you’re going to revise that opinion, but whatever.

So, remember way up above where Charles tells Mac that Zade signed a waiver? Well, Sofia just caught up:

I heard Sofia’s voice as I walked away. I strained to hear her saying to Charles, “You remembered her name. You never remember names.”

Sofia, sweetheart, I have some real bad news to break to you. Zade is the most important person in your world. There’s no way that Charles isn’t going to end up dumping you for Zade, or at least making a pass at Zade, or at the very, very least, liking Zade more than he likes you. Everyone is going to like her more than they like you. Just go limp and wait for the misogyny to lose interest in batting you around.

I turned my eyes toward them and caught Charles’s reply,

You hear with your eyes?

“Most people’s names aren’t worth remembering.”

See, Sofia? Zade is more important than “most people.” I mean, she’s more important than ALL people, let’s keep that in perspective.

Next to Charles, I noticed a younger, mousy woman with glasses who looked to be an assistant of some kind. She looked focused and anxious. She had a note pad and seemed to be writing down everything Charles uttered.

“See, Jenny,” you might be saying. “It isn’t a case of internalized misogyny. There’s another woman, right there. The fact that she’s described as being mousy and wearing glasses and therefore will not be a threat to Zani in the reader’s mind is unimportant.”

Just kidding. I know you would never say that.

Charles starts talking about how he wants Zani’s illusion to be included in his show before she even performs it. So now, Lani has not only somehow gone from small town nobody to having an audition with the most famous magician of all time in the space of one chapter break, but the audition sounds like more of a formality than anything. Cam takes Zani up to the catwalks:

Heights make some people nervous, but not me. I love the feeling of being off the ground and as high up as possible.

Not. Like. Other. Girls.

I quickly realized I needed to check on where the prop I’d requested was.

You’re supposed to check your props before you go to places. Also, she was able to bring her own equipment, but not a rose? They had to supply that?

But don’t worry, Cam already set her prop for her.

The only thing that was running through my head was how any girl could ever date him, because he was prettier than all of us put together.

In case you weren’t picking up on how “pretty” Cam is, Zani is reminding you while she’s standing on a catwalk fifty feet above the stage, moments before performing a dangerous illusion. I’m expecting to hear about how focused she is, next. Oh, hey, look:

My mind drifted about in a way where it focused on everything and nothing at the same time while I waited for the cue from Cam to drop the rose to the ground.

That’s not focus. Your mind drifting and thinking about everything and nothing at the same time is the opposite of focus. That’s called distraction. Also, how is she “thinking of everything and nothing at the same time” while “the only thing” running through her head is how pretty Cam is?

Too pretty for his own good–and mine, I thought. Trying to focus on what I was doing, I climbed onto the top bar of the catwalk and turned around on my toes.

With no safety equipment. Totally cool to be doing that in a professional theater, nobody’s going to object.

Anyway, Cam gives her the go-ahead, and she throws the rose onto the stage, explaining that it’s meant to show the audience that the stage is solid.

A single rose.

In a theater that seats two-thousand people.

Yeah, that’s going to read.

Join me now in this glorious description of Zade’s illusion:

I took a deep breath and leaned slowly back over the bar, bending backward until I had flipped myself over the edge. Once my body had inverted into mid-air, I began to “fall” toward the stage, like a high diver would.

Except high divers don’t “fall”. They just fall.

I stretched and tensed so that my body was completely vertical as I flew toward the ground. I was falling fast, and there was nothing below me to break my fall.

That must be a typo. Let me fix it: I was “falling” fast, and there was nothing below me to break my “fall”.

The audience of cast and crew gasped. A regular audience might think “trapdoor” but this group knew better because they knew the theater so well.

As I plummeted toward the stage, brightly colored sparks began to shoot from my outstretched hands. The sparks fell and hit the ground ahead of me, becoming a roaring fire directly beneath me. The fire burned a brilliant red, spreading and glowing below me. As the fire burned, it changed color from bright red to a vibrant blue. I could hear the audience murmuring again, but I couldn’t get cocky yet. I was near the ground and still falling fast.

Obviously, not that fast, because this description is taking forever.

The ground beneath the flames seemed to pool as if it had become liquid, and the fire melted into waves that started to lap the stage, as if a pond had formed where the stage had been just a moment before.

Here’s a theme I’m picking up on. Zade describes things as they “seem” quite often, even when they’re actually happening. If I drive my car to the store, I don’t “seem” to be driving my car to the store. I’m just driving my car to the store. The flames don’t “seem” to pool as if they had become liquid. It actually does so right after the comma in that sentence.

In full Olympic-diving position with my fingers and toes pointed, I dove straight into what looked somewhat like “water”.

No, it doesn’t look somewhat like “water”, it looks somewhat like water. If you “dove straight into the ‘water’,” the quotation marks would be necessary. But they aren’t. And here I am, having to say this about a published novel.

It splashed as I made impact, but as the droplets of liquid came back down toward the Earth to meet the ground, the stage had become solid once again. The rose and I had disappeared within the lapping water.

God damnit, Lani! We talked about this! This is where you use the quotation marks around “water”. THIS IS WHERE YOU DO THAT! NOT UP THERE!

About twenty feet away fromt he site of my impact was an open area where there was actual, real water–basically a pool, which was used in several other illusions. I popped my head out of the water and pumped my left fist victoriously in the air as I used my right arm to grab onto the edge of the pool–the rose safely clenched between my teeth.

I guess this explains why she doesn’t have equipment for them to inspect.

As for her illusion, she dove off a catwalk, into a pool of fire that turned into water…right behind an already existing pool of water? This is her brilliant illusion? Because from our vantage point, and from the vantage point of the crew who knows the workings of the stage, it’s impressive. If you’re in the audience at one of the shows, you just assume the pool extends further under the stage. This illusion only works if the audience has a fucking schematic of the theater.

But that doesn’t matter to the cast and crew, who are stunned into silence.

My smile started to fade and I was beginning to panic when they all applauded thunderously, and the whole cast rose to their feet.

And the whole train applauded.

I grabbed the rose from my mouth and tossed it to Sofia, winking at her. I laughed as I said, “For the pretty lady.” Sofia glared in response and smiled with the fakest smile I had ever seen. She wasn’t amused–nor did she find me funny, in the least.

“She wasn’t hungry–nor did she want food in the least.”

“She wasn’t cold–nor did she find it freezing in the least.”

“She wasn’t angry–nor was she happy, in the least.”

“That was perfect! Just as I expected,” I overheard Charles say excitedly.

How did he expect it to be perfect? He just met her. I’m so fucking confused as to why anyone on the show offered her the audition, let alone had high expectations for it. She has been living in a small town, reading tarot cards her entire life. Does she have some reputation for being a world-class illusionist? NONE OF THIS MAKES ANY SENSE.

“Beth, let’s have her sign that contract. That goes into the show right away. Wait until Copperfield sees this one! […]”

Yo, he just did.

But of course, despite the fact that her illusion won’t look impressive or mystifying to anyone in the audience, Zade is now a part of the biggest show in Vegas. Someone should have told Elizabeth Berkley she didn’t have to grind on all of those dudes to get a job on the Strip. It would have saved us all two painful hours in the ’90s.

Now, if you remember correctly, Thomas Ian Nicholas from American Pie is attached to star in the movie version of this book, as “Tad.” This is Tad:

Tad was slightly stocker with dark brown wavy hair and brown jovial eyes. I woudl soon learn that Tad was Mac’s best friend, an all-around good guy who worked well with everyone. In theory, Mac was Tad’s boss, but they had been working together for a long time and had been friends for much longer. Tad was the kind of guy to always tell it like it is. He never believed in sugarcoating anything. He’d always tell us that his motto was, “Why take anything seriously? No one gets out alive anyway.” He said it often, and meant it. Very little got him worked up. He was the epitome of easy going. Tad was also one of those people who was naturally good at most of the things he tried. I often wonder if a lot of it had to do with his attitude. Iv’e condluded that it must be that, and being born under a lucky star. I’d probably envy him if I didn’t adore him so much.

The only characters who’ve had this much intense description devoted to them are Tad and Charles Spellman. My hunch here is that every character who receives this kind of attention to detail is someone that Lani Sarem knows in real life.

“Jesus! That was quite the magic trick,” Tad agreed. “Holy moly! No wonder C.S. gave her free rein of the theater. Mac, how in hell did she do that?”

WTF do you mean, “no wonder?” Help me out, because I’m still wondering my ass off over here. Charles had never met Zade before, she has no background as a professional, big time illusionist, he never saw her perform the trick, so yes! There are wonders! I have so many wonders!

Look, just having a character say that something makes sense doesn’t mean it actually makes sense. I went through this already with Fifty Shades of Grey and I am damn sure not letting this slide now.

Mac can’t figure out how the illusion was performed, and it troubles him to the point of aggressive staring.

It wouldn’t have made logical sense no matter how hard they tried to figure it out because it was beyond anything a mortal could do. Tarot cards weren’t the only unique skill that my mom had taught me–or that ran in the family. And for the first time, I was starting to realize that it was going to be harder to keep our secret from everyone. They were going to want to know, I was going to have to keep dodging questions. This was a problem I was going to have to work out when I had more time to think about it.

I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but it’s a question you should have worked out before you arrived to an audition at a Las Vegas theater and performed a death-defying illusion without bringing any equipment with you. Do you expect to continue to do the illusion without any stage hands or technicians noticing that you have no equipment and really, no illusion? And if it’s imperative that you keep your family’s secret under wraps, why would you use that secret on stage every night in front of sold out crowds of two-thousand people? Why not just use your magic to win a bunch of money at the casinos like normal witches do in Vegas?

Oh, but we don’t know that she’s a witch yet. I forgot. Keep your surprised faces stowed under the seat in front of you or in the overhead compartments.

Tad Fletcher, head of automation, rocked back on his heels as he talked. Calm, collected, sweet, kind and confident cascaded out of his being. I would slowly learn that Tad was all of those things through and through, which was why he was so well liked.

Why are we being reintroduced to Tad, as though we haven’t already met him just a page ago? And why does she keep talking about people like she’s Daniel Stern narrating The Wonder Years?

Tad introduces Lani to Riley, another male member of the crew who instantly likes her and tells her they should be friends, because of course. One thing I have to say for this book, it is definitely keeping me on my toes trying to guess which of these guys end up in the love triangle with Zani.

Zade notices that Mac is still staring angrily at her and she doesn’t know why.

I would have to look into that later, I decided, because I didn’t have time to concentrate on it at the moment.

Why is that italicized? Why is Zade walking around thinking in past perfect tense?

And why is Zade so busy? Because Beth (apparently this is the mousy glasses-wearer from before, though it’s not specified) has to talk to Zade about the contract:

She also basically told me what Charles was willing to offer me with regards to the show. It was quite generous and even Beth commented that while I should retain an attorney to look my contract over she doubted an attorney would find issue with anything it said. Beth even confided in me it was the best offer she had ever seen Charles make to anyone.

To recap: Zani has now received an audition with the cast and crew of a major Las Vegas production on the strength of her magic skills (which no one has ever seen before because they have to be a secret) and is getting handed heaps of money and a place in the show, despite the fact that her amazing illusion is only impressive if you know how it’s done.

I wasn’t really concerned with it that much. I already had what I wanted; I had made myself a new life.

A somewhat normal life.

That’s right. It’s perfectly normal to appear in the biggest show in Las Vegas every night after getting an audition based on the strength of skills no one has ever seen before. Just your average, every day, ho hum, normal life.

Ouch. My disbelief.