Jay Swanson's Blog, page 13

French Friday #1 – Dog Poop in Paris

For those of you who are unaware, there’s this horrible tendency in France to let your dog do what it likes, where it likes, (in the words of Er: “At all times”). Not only can your dog do as it pleases, but you apparently hold no responsibility for whatever results.

This proves somewhat dangerous for the faint of nose (and people like my mom, who are obsessed with clean carpets).

Along these lines (and many others), I’ll be putting up a video every Friday to highlight something I love about France, or something that’s really grinding my gears (I’m all about quoting cartoons today). I’ve got plenty planned out, but I’m always open to suggestions as well.

I’ll let the video talk for itself.

Voila!

Also, if you wanted to see the photo I put on my wall for this episode a little more closely, here you go (you can click on it to make it larger):

You can find more photos like this if you follow me on instagram @jayswanson

If you have a question about Paris, or France in general, and would like me to address it in the future, please leave a comment here or on YouTube. I’ll do my best to answer it in one form or another. Thanks guys!

Also, yes, new site layout and design. Feel free to comment if you like it or see something that needs fixing. Thanks again! New videos next week!

Introducing the Swanson Vlog

I have some aspirations here, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on them.

I’ll let the video speak for itself, take a watch:

So what I want to know from you is this: what do you think? I’ve heard from a number of people that they want audio books, but do you? What about video books? The idea would be similar to joining me in my living room after dinner, to sit down and listen to me read. Assuming I had a living room, of course.

Is this intriguing? Would it be distracting?

Leave your comments below and I’ll respond as soon as I’m awake (and have nothing to do at school in the morning).

Women in Story

I have a confession to make: I’m a white middle class male from America, and I am discovering how this taints my view of the world.

If you’ll bear with me, this post is more me processing than anything.

There’s this thing you may have heard of called a “patriarchy,” that we supposedly live in every day. I didn’t really know we lived in it, I thought the world was peachy. Even having parents who fought very hard for equality between men and women in the communities they inhabited, I didn’t pick up on the real heart of the issue growing up. I realized that women weren’t allowed (or at least weren’t supposed) to do certain jobs or lead at certain levels. Whether that was in the church or in business or in other community organizations, I knew women were getting the short end of the stick.

But I didn’t realize just how short that end of the stick was, nor how much of the stick I was holding onto myself.

Fast forward to life in Africa and the blinding realizations of my privilege. Meeting and making friends with people who would gladly give their right arm for the opportunities that I was born into. People that will never have those opportunities. I saw through them so clearly all of the things I had been given. I could make a massive list but I’ll give you the big five:

I’m a man
I’m white
I’m educated
I have a loving family
I’m an American

There’s no place to better realize how good you have it than serving the forgotten poor in West Africa. But even more impactful was befriending the industrious and hardworking poor in West Africa. I’ll explain that some other time.

Step back into western living, mix in a few of my more outspoken female friends, and suddenly I realize how massive that very first item I listed really is. I am a man, whatever that means in today’s world, at least biologically I am one (my beard is the envy of many a bro). It means I have greater access to the world, am put forward into a better position automatically, and in the midst of all of this, the fear of rape never enters my mind.

This is enough of a point to dwell on for a second. It’s not that I don’t know about rape, or the dangers that present themselves to women, but I have spent most of my life oblivious to how those threats actually affect the way women live their daily lives. A fantastic blog post by Emily Heist Moss puts it into blunt terms – I don’t think about the exits being blocked or about what a strange man on the street might do to me if I walk past him (beyond a potential stabbing, but I don’t worry about that either).

But this word “patriarchy” kept getting thrown around in these conversations, usually at my head, and I wondered what the heck they were talking about. “We don’t live in a patriarchal system, ______(insert name here),” I would say. “Just like we no longer have primogeniture or polygamy, those ancient systems of social rule are long gone.”

What angered me was this idea that kept floating up, which was that we needed a matriarchy. This seemed to be frothing feminism at its worst, to flip everything on its head and subjugate the men to some form of militant feminazism. I raged against the idea until said friend pointed me to what she really meant by “matriarchy,“ which, to paraphrase poorly, is essentially the idea of a completely egalitarian society lacking the presence of the aggression typically associated with male rule. Not the best choice of names, taking context into account, but a very lovely thought underneath.

Oddly enough, this lovely idea produced a massive struggle for me. On the one hand I really truly want to live in a society where all men and women are seen as equals, and treated as such. On the other hand it felt Utopian, and thus unattainable. If you’ve ever read Marshall Brain’s Manna, you get a feel for just how inviting an egalitarian future can be (in this instance provided through the appropriate application of technology and automation). But you also realize that such a future would be impossible, as there will always be cruel, greedy, and downright evil people in the world that will step in and wreck things for their own benefit. That thought made me stop.

I then realized just how much of my struggle was internal.

For one, I don’t see the inequalities with ease. I’m of the privileged few, whether or not I’ve ever seen myself as such. And not having seen myself as such shows you how naive I’ve been all of my life.

Secondly, upsetting this order doesn’t just threaten the gluttons on Wall Street. This directly threatens me. I have a very very big stake in the white man’s world, and I’m only just now beginning to realize that.

From Django Unchained

I have it really, really good. I have the lion’s share of opportunities handed to me simply because of my race, gender, and the place I was born. This is something I take for granted, and something that equality would take away from me. As with my race, my gender gives me an upper hand in many arenas. This is wrong, but I realized the idea of losing that edge, of losing my advantage, bothered me down deep somewhere near my core.

Why should these things bother me? The tossup of gender roles and earning capacity, for example, or women being allowed into combat roles in the military. Perhaps because it’s taking away possible jobs, but more because it’s threatening an inherent advantage I hold.

This upsets the hell out of me, because I don’t want this threat to bother me. I want the world to be occupied by free states, and free people. I don’t want external factors like race or gender to affect the opportunities that anyone has, nor to restrict their freedoms. I don’t want to be one of the men who steps in to wreck things in an effort to protect his own footing. I want to help others build that footing for themselves, but how do I go about doing that?

This all brings me back around to women in story. I just watched a TED talk by Colin Stokes in which he highlights the roles women play in movies today. More importantly, he uses this not as an illustration of the inequality of screen time between the genders, but to highlight the deeper narratives we are driving home with our stories. There’s a stark contrast between Star Wars and the Wizard of Oz. Where one follows a boy on a violent adventure to claim a prize, the other follows a girl who saves the day through friendship and taking charge.

What are we teaching boys (who will theoretically become men at some point) about manhood through our use of narrative?

As a fantasy author, especially in writing epic action adventure fantasy (if that truly is my genre), I can’t really escape the violence. I don’t want to, that’s not my goal at this point (although I find myself increasingly put off by violence in other works). My emerging goal, however, is to better represent women and the way I want the world to be. I’ve written four books now, and I can tell you I’ve certainly failed the Bechdel Test in all four. Part of this is my fear of writing women, because I’m not one – among other reasons. But part of this is due to my blindness to the need.

More importantly: I’ve been blind to the depth and richness that women have to offer to my stories.

I have a lot of thinking and planning to do as I move forward into writing more books, but this adds a whole new level for me. I don’t have many answers, but if I can help in some small way by working to adjust our culture’s narrative, I’m all for it.

Men, I hope that this at least puts something on your radar that wasn’t there before (assuming it wasn’t).

Ladies, if you have any ideas, comments, or suggestions I’m all ears.

Colin’s TED talk:

Merry Christmas from Montmartre!

Writing has been a bit slow of late, that’s my Christmas confession. I’m working on editing my third book with my lovely editor, and am hoping to get the ball rolling on the cover art sooner than later, but things have really slowed down on the creative process of actually writing.

This isn’t a bad thing, in fact it’s forcing me to take my time and really think ahead right now. I’ve been allowing myself to create in different ways, to make videos and music and draw a little. I’ve even played some of my old-time favorite video games and have gone for innumerable long walks along the streets of Paris. How can I complain? I’m actually feeling increasingly excited about the world I’m creating through these books, and very excited that I’ve figured out a few linchpin problems I didn’t even know I had.

I feel like soon everything will come tumbling into place in ways I hadn’t originally imagined possible.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a little video creation of mine to say Merry Christmas from Montmartre! (Which is a neighborhood here in Paris if you were unaware)

 

Paris, je t’aime – sérieusement

If you weren’t aware of the fact, I’ve moved to Paris. I am also completely unable to take any decent photos of myself with any of the obligatory monuments/sights. I need to enlist help.

I mean there’s a pole in the background WITH the Eiffel Tower. What on earth was I thinking…

So, my inability to photograph myself aside, here’s what I’m loving about Paris among many things: FALL.

I’ve been in Africa for a while now, and even before that I was in Texas for the beginning of “fall” there, so I’ve been in eternal summer for some time now. For a kid that grew up in the inland northwest, I can’t handle this lack of seasons. My body has been beyond confused. But now when I walk out onto the street I can see my breath, and I don’t sweat all the time! I actually shiver, a lot more than I would had I never lived near the equator for so long.

Any season in Paris is probably better than anywhere else, but fall has been amazing. This morning I woke up to a small rainstorm, and by the afternoon it’s bound to be partially sunny. In the garden my window faces the leaves are just starting to turn colors, so while the rest of the city’s leaves are just finishing their vertical migration, mine are only just beginning. It’s like my own personal extension of the season.

Seriously,  I LOVE PARIS. There, I said it (a second time, as the title is the French version if you didn’t catch it). Last night I went out for sushi, shared some Metusalem with friends, and had a nice time just sitting and talking about life and the difficulties in changing the world.

I told my students this last week, but the fact of the matter is that you can’t change the world on your own. In fact, most of us don’t have the resources to solve even one person’s problems on our own. What we do have is the ability to make a small difference here and now, and the great difference that this lends itself to is the transmission of hope. Hope, if we can successfully incubate it in others, will carry them farther than our gifts alone ever could. Curing someone’s hunger for a night, or reminding them that they are lovable through a hug – these are small things that can go miles in the long run.

We have an obligation to our fellow man, to love and care for each as we can. But never take that responsibility beyond what is actually possible, or you will always feel guilty for simply not being able to do more. The trick is to do what you can, because that’s all you can do. Circular, but true, and as you seek to do more you’ll find you can. This all stemmed from giving two homeless guys sandwiches the night before. I know what it’s like to go hungry, though not quite as intensely as these guys. But if I can give them some food, talk with them for a while, and in doing so remind them that they are worthy of human respect and that tonight’s needs are met, maybe they can have hope for a brighter future.

I don’t know, perhaps I’m over-thinking this. In the end all I did was give them some sandwiches. Sometimes that’s simply enough in itself.

Conversational Lessons for American Idiots

Dear America: stop.

Please stop yelling at each other, insulting and belittling your fellow citizens, all under the misguided notion that you’ll somehow win your opponent over by shouting them down. After two years abroad, it was disheartening to come home to such polarized nonsense. In response to what I saw/heard in numerous conversations and on each and every news channel (not just FOX before you pin the pinheads), I’ve prepared a little reflection on how to maintain civil discourse with someone you disagree with.

This is loosely based off of a “conversation” I found myself the victim of this weekend. I’d hoped to leave this kind of exchange behind when I left the country again, but it followed me to France.

This is how a conversation should start, especially when one party is still in the midst of forming their opinion.

Conversations start when someone listens, and the best way to listen, America, is to ask questions. Another good example would be “What issues are the most important to you?” You can’t properly inform someone of your views if you have no idea what theirs are, or what roadblocks stand in the way to them understanding what it is you believe.

This is how it actually happened this weekend.

For starters, yelling at someone who’s expressing a genuine desire to make an informed decision is not a good way to make friends. In fact yelling at people in general is not a good start on the friendship train, nor does it make for any form of coherent articulation that will be listened to. Realize that this is literally the first conversation I’ve ever had with this person.

The entire conversation was also loaded with logical fallacies. This one was a loaded question that doesn’t advance the debate so much as make the “opponent” look guilty of being a misogynist should he answer that yes, in fact, he wants the candidate who plans on rejecting women’s right to birth control. Granted it misses the point entirely as our victim is uncertain as to who he’s voting for in the first place, but let’s just go for the jugular. It’s also gearing up to create a straw man in case things progress. They don’t.

This is simply a dismissive insult, but you could classify it as ad-hominem. Why? Because it’s attacking the character (in this case intelligence/ignorance) of the “opponent.” What’s interesting here is that our victim (in this case, yours truly) is clearly offering up an opportunity for discussion from a position of honest uncertainty. When your “opponent” says something like this, the proper response is to either ask more questions, or to offer to enlighten them (VERY POLITELY) rather than insinuate that they’re clearly an idiot for not knowing (or assuming they must disagree with you for no apparent reason).

But this brings me to one of the more annoying and devastating fallacies that I heard used over and over while I was home.

Appeal to emotion.

The number one emotion to manipulate, of course, is fear. Fear is incredibly powerful, and when you don’t want to substantiate an argument (or you simply can’t) it’s a pretty handy tactic when no one is paying attention. Just get them scared, and they’ll have to agree with you.

I will say this, if one of these guys did eat a baby it would make the selection process go much more quickly for a lot of us. The thing is that if you want to convince people of your own points, you have to do two things: understand their viewpoint, and communicate kindly and effectively why you believe what you believe. This isn’t about convincing or converting the other person (I got a long lecture on religion recently too). This is about educating someone honestly, and being open to learn as well. You’d be surprised just how few of us actually have all of the answers (the answer is none of us do, in case you’re wondering).

If you find yourself yelling a lot, or no one ever wants to talk with you again after a conversation, there are lots of books on how to properly converse.

To be honest I swing back and forth quite a bit on who I want to vote for, and I remain uncertain. I don’t even want to talk about it now. Why? Because I don’t like getting yelled at.

I would be tempted to write in Jon Stewart or either one of the Mario Brothers on my ballot, but if I do there’s a good chance I’ll lose friends on both sides of the “debate.” And that’s what’s so concerning for me, and I think should concern you too. We’ve lost the ability to talk amongst ourselves, and our national “discourse” has devolved into screaming matches and an unwillingness to compromise or admit that it’s even possible we could be wrong.

We’re tearing ourselves apart. Please, America, try to remember that we’re all in this together, we’re all humans and we need each other. Please stop yelling, and start listening.

As for the girl who yelled at me, please print off this poster of logical fallacies and pin it up over your bed for all of our sakes.

Bad Cliches

When life throws you lemons, you don’t generally want to make lemonade. Partially because after dodging a bunch of lemons, you don’t have much energy to put into the beverage industry, and partially because you have no idea where life got those lemons in the first place nor where they’ve been.

However, sometimes all the lemon dodging leads you to a new perspective on life, and hopefully not through black eyes. In this case, after being told my illustrator wouldn’t be able to finish my cover I went on a desperate search for a replacement. And replacing Marjolein was going to be difficult.

A lot of friends and acquaintances came forward with ideas, friends, names, and websites that I should check out. I started emailing artists that caught my eye and who I thought could do the cover for Tomb of the Relequim justice. One of the guys at the top of my list wrote me back with surprising speed.

I’m excited to announce that the cover for Tomb of the Relequim will be done by Sam Spratt from New York. Our deadline is this Friday, which is insane. It also means that Tomb of the Relequim will be coming out in a matter of weeks. I’m aiming to release it as early as Tuesday, August 14th. And yes, that’s 2012. Looks like there’s lemonade in this for us after all.

Get ready for the reveal soon, and join my newsletter to be the first to know when the book is released!

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(Paperback copies will be delayed slightly by other circumstances)

The Lame Storyteller

I realized something about myself today in the midst of the turmoil of life. I’m a really passionate person, as anyone who knows me should be able to tell you. Perhaps not so much in the last few months or year, but in the past, unbridled passion was probably my M.O. as much as anything. There are various subjects I get really excited about, and I go from talking really fast (which is my normal speed) to talking in the visible spectrum.

When I was in high school, and through college, I’d often pin people down to tell them about the story in my head. The thing was that I didn’t realize you could tell someone a story without first covering all of the background and setup, so I would spend the first hour or so just telling them about the history of my world. It was about that point where I lost people, when I got to the end of the history portion and said “And that’s where the story starts!”

“That’s where the story starts?” Was the general response.

“Yeah!” I’d say. “We open with a view of the Peninsula, which is completely and mysteriously uninhabited. The cavalry scouts sent to investigate have just made it to the cliff which overlooks the plain, square buildings.”

“What was all that other stuff then? Like, the last hour?”

“That was just the history, so you’d understand what comes next.” I’d say grinning. This was usually followed by a long painful silence.

The thing I didn’t realize then is that the story would carry itself, and that I could answer questions along the way. But what I realized today was that I don’t tell anyone about the story like that any more. I don’t know if it’s because people lost interest right when I got to the point (my fault) and I just assumed they didn’t care, or because of something else altogether. The thing is, now that I’ve written a book, people are always asking me “What’s it about?”

I have a horrible time trying to answer that question. I get all awkward and self-conscious and uncertain of myself. When it was just an idea, it was safe. I didn’t have to worry about people correcting my grammar or poking holes in the thoughts behind it, because when they tried to do that I could adapt or explain right on the spot.

Perhaps it’s because I don’t really think of myself as a writer in the first place. Perhaps I know that these people are bound to find me out for the fraud I am. Or perhaps I just assume that they wouldn’t like it anyways. In fact, I know I assume that people won’t like it anyways, which is the most consistent source of surprise in my life at the moment. People do like it. *Doubletake*

But I’m doing myself and everyone around me a disservice when I bridle my passion for my own story and characters. Perhaps I should swing the pendulum back the other direction and risk annoying people by being excited, rather than how I understate everything and start acting like a mumbling twit.

So I guess this is me saying I’m going to try to do a better job of getting excited about my stories instead of trying to act cool about them. Or whatever it is my problem is. We’ll see how this goes, but feel free to hold me to it.

Some Bad News

The gravity of which will depend on how much you’re looking forward to reading my next book. I just found out last night that my cover artist (the same one who did the cover art for White Shores) is “not able to make the cover.”

You’ll notice I haven’t posted much on this blog or the official Vitalis Chronicles blog for some time, largely because there wasn’t much to say except “Everything is ready to go, I’m just waiting on the cover art.” Now, after 10 months of trying to get the cover art out of Marjolein, I can at least say “I’m back to square one.” Which is to say that I don’t even have a new illustrator lined up.

Perhaps it’s better described as “Square Zero” when you think about it… but we can leave the philosophy driving idioms for later.

There are a couple of possibilities but I’ll be honest, I’m pretty deflated at the moment. This isn’t the only thing in my life to have been drawn out past a reasonable point in the last few months, so I’m pretty exhausted and now kind of depressed by how things have turned out. “Depressed” is a strong word, but I’m… yeah, I guess I’m kind of depressed.

It’s especially disappointing because I wanted to release Tomb of the Relequim (book two in the Vitalis Chronicles trilogy) OVER TWO MONTHS AGO! Yes, that’s me yelling at my computer screen. Yes I know it can’t hear me. What’s worse is I just want it in the hands of my readers already. You guys (and the majority of my readers who don’t actually follow my blog) are the ones who have been asking for the book since you finished reading White Shores, and you guys are the ones that suffer the most for it.

Well, maybe I suffer the most because I both want you to be happy, and I want the dang book out of my hands. I’m over 2/3 done writing the third book, but it’s hard to stay motivated to finish it when I can’t even publish the second. It’s even more depressing to have almost reached the 10,000 mark on the distribution of White Shores and have nothing to follow up with.

All that to say: I don’t know when Tomb of the Relequim will be available. I hope soon, but I’ve been saying that for months now. I feel like Valve here… Gabe, if you’re reading, I have a new level of sympathy for you.

I’m sorry to all of you who have had to put up with my uncertainty and apparent inability to produce a finished product of late. If things carry on like this for too much longer I might just draw something in Microsoft Paint and leave it at that.

Like this:

Is he dancing? Falling out of a plane? Burning alive? Who knows! His left leg looks like it’s falling off for some reason, and why is he red? What does all of that negative space signify? And who the heck is he supposed to represent?!

These are the burning questions that will plague you until you read The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim!

You can tell I’m an expert marketer. Actually, now that I look more closely, only one of his limbs is attached at all. Even his head is floating off… poor guy. Anyways. I’ll keep you posted on the book, and hopefully we can get this squared away sooner than later. Thanks for your patience, hopefully you won’t have to exercise it for much longer.

The Last to Go

The following is a little poem I wrote to help process my thoughts. There are a lot of changes going on in my life right now, but that’s pretty normal for life in general, isn’t it? This poem could refer to a lot of things; feel free to sing it to your own tune.

 

The Last to Go

Like walking into darkness

Through mists and fog you fade

To watch the rest departing

Then find yourself alone

There’s no one here to hold to

No one to mourn your loss

You won’t be soon forgotten

Already been forgot

And in this sea of faces

Not one could call your name

For no one knows you’re leaving

You are the last to go

 

I hope that connects with you in some small way.

I have no updates on the book save that it’s been delayed again. We’re taking some new direction on the cover art, despite how incredible it was looking. I’m starting to feel like Valve with all of these delays, without the millions of angry fans, of course. In any case, sorry for this delay – I wanted to release Tomb of the Relequim over a month ago. I’ll keep you posted.