Michael Tinker Pearce's Blog, page 6

In Defense of Sexism in Fantasy

One of the comments that we have received about ‘Diaries of a Dwarves Rifleman’ is that we have female characters fulfilling traditionally male roles, and that we don’t make a big dealabout it. In ‘Rage of Angels’ one of the three principal characters is a female in a combat arms role in the military and no one around her thinks this is odd. Any number of the supporting characters are females, mostly in what are traditionally male roles. In ‘The Shield Maiden’ the protagonist is a female warrior in Sweden during the Viking era. This last one is cheating as a ‘Sköldmo’ is a traditional female role in their culture. The egalitarian view expressed in our stories is a product of my own beliefs and is not because my co-author is a woman (my wife Linda in fact.)

Most medieval fantasy is accused of reinforcing stereotypical male/female roles. Generally the men go around doing the fighting, adventuring etc. while the women stay home, cook and clean and raise babies. In my experience this is a valid accusation. Medieval fantasies overwhelmingly enforce stereotypes in this regard. Because they should.



*Plugs ears and winces at the cries of outrage*

Here’s the thing- fantasy may be fantasy but it must ring true, make sense and be internally consistent for it to be any good. Every major human society since the dawn of history has viewed the woman’s primary role as housekeeper and child-bearer. Yes, there have always been women in ‘men’s roles,’ but these are very much the exception rather than the rule. The ‘norm’ throughout human history conforms to the stereotypes.

“But this is fantasy,” you might protest, “Surely we need not be bound by those traditional roles? Surely we can reflect modern values and egalitarianism in our medieval societies?”

Yes, yes you can. But consider history- there is a reason that cultures in different environments with different morals, religions and values all conformed to similar models of male-female roles. It was what worked best, and it worked best that way because of human biology. Women get pregnant and have babies, and for the majority of human history the only way to avoid that reliably was to abstain from sex. But let’s face it, humans are lousy at abstaining from sex. For women sex is not always a voluntary act, either, and contrary to what some mouth-breathing morons believe a woman can get pregnant from rape as easily as from sex.

The reasons for the dominance of patriarchal cultures are the subject of entire books and cannot be adequately covered in a single blog. The fact is they did (and sadly still do) dominate. This is because for the bulk of human history it was simply what worked best. Was it oppressive and a shitty deal for women? Pretty often, yeah. Women were treated as cattle, as property and as slaves. Did it suck? Yep. But it was still, biologically speaking, the most logical and functional arrangement.

This is not to say there were not societies where women had more or less rights. There were. In Moorish Spain women could own property, divorce their husbands and operate businesses and many did. The Scandinavian cultures accepted female warriors. Even in the more repressive societies women often took on men’s roles by abstaining from sex, often by masquerading as men. Pretending to be a man both made it easier to assume the male role and to some degree protected them from rape.

Traditional male/female roles are appropriate in medieval fantasy. Then why don’t we show that in our own fiction?

The female dwarves in ‘Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman’ were able to easily assume men’s roles in part because they were genetically/magically engineered to be mine-slaves by an immortal despot. He gave them very long lives (up to 300 years) so they could perfect their crafts and need less replacement. He also made the women so that they could only get pregnant every twenty-to twenty-five years. This would allow them to replenish the pool of slaves with minimal impact on their productive time. They are unlikely to get pregnant and even if they do it happens seldom enough that it is a gift, not a burden. Even when it happens a pregnancy and child-rearing is simply a blip in a career that can stretch for centuries rather than a life-defining event. Female dwarves can assume ‘male’ roles because there is no logical reason for them not to.

What about the Sköldmo in ‘The Shield Maiden?’ If biology is dictating traditional roles as a matter of necessity then how are they able to pursue a warrior’s path? Simple. They abstained from sexual intercouse. That’s a 100% effective way of preventing conception. When they did eventually marry they took off enough time to have a baby, but their households were structured such that they needn’t abandon their career, just take a hiatus for a year or so.

So, if we are to write plausible medieval fantasy are we doomed to perpetuate sexist stereotypes? Only if you need it as a plot device. There is a very simple work-around…

I am convinced that when future historians look back on the twentieth century they will view one of the changes that occurred in the same league with the invention of fire and the wheel. Not mass-production. Not radio, television or even the Internet. Not even splitting the atom. No, the major world-changing invention of the twentieth century was this: wide-spread availability of contraceptives. For the first time women had a real ability to overcome their biology and fully assume men’s roles… without giving up sex. Nor could they be forced into pregnancy by violence. For the first time any woman could fully devote herself to any career she was physically and mentally capable of performing. Just like a man.

So, if you want to write medieval fantasy where women are largely forced into traditional roles it doesn’t mean you are a sexist pig, you are just being realistic. But if you want a more egalitarian society simply give them wide-spread and effective contraception, whether it is in the form of herbs or a magic charm or whatever. The hallmark of humanity, what really separates us from the animals, is our ability to rise above our nature. The author has the ability to give or withhold this boon from their characters based on what best serves the story… which may not agree with modern sensibilities or our personal beliefs.

This is an extremely complex issue and has many nuances that I wasn’t able to go into in the limited space of a blog. It’s a subject worthy of discussion, and I look forward to that discussion.

Reading and Writing

The worst thing about being a writer is finding time to read. I seems paradoxical that a love of reading led to the desire to write and now I haven’t got time to read. Of course I have lots of friends that are writers and I want to read what they are putting out. There are friends that want me to ‘test-read’ their new stories. We try to keep up but I am falling further and further behind…

Then there are any number of new authors that want me to read their work. This is much less a problem for me than it is for many of my more experienced and more widely published friends. I have an acquaintance that gets about one unsolicited manuscript a week. She’s not an editor or publisher, she’s an author. What are these people expecting? That she is going to drop everything in her busy life to read their unedited manuscript? From someone she doesn’t know and has never heard of? And what, in the name of God’s Butt made them think that a science-fiction author would be interested in reading a gay men’s romance?

Sometimes these folks are well-meaning and are genuinely looking for helpful criticism from someone that has ‘made it.’ As if we have. Some times they are looking for validation, simple reassurance that they can, in fact, write. But most often what they are looking for is a ‘foot in the door.’ For someone that is published to recommend their work to an editor or literary agent or something that will help them sell their story. They are looking for the ‘easy way’ to get published.

It doesn’t work that way. News flash, people. There is no ‘easy way.’ My editor couldn’t care less about my opinions of other peoples stories. He barely cares about my opinions about my stories. Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s great to work with. Very helpful and professional. But he’s even busier than we are.

So, I am going to do everyone a favor here- stop sending your stories to authors. Send them to people that read the kind of stories that you write- your target audience is actually interested in your story and much more likely to have time to read it. Send it to people that you don’t know well, because they’ll be more likely to give you an honest opinion and a useful critique. And for the love of God have it edited and proof-read before you do. This will be hugely more productive and helpful than sending it randomly to ‘published authors’ who probably don’t have time to read it anyway.

The Ever-helpful Headache…

I haven’t been getting in my writing time this week, what with vet visits, working in the shop and helping out a buddy with a household disaster. A buddy who conveniently lives about an hour away. All this means that I wasn’t getting this blog, or my column, or the current novel written. Fortunately today the early-warning signs of a migraine appeared to enforce sitting in front of the computer while my medication does it’s thing. Wrting is sufficiently absorbing to distract me while this occurs.

Among other things there was getting tabs on the van. Local law enforcement gets testy when they notice that if one wanted to be picky I should technically have renewed my license tabs in January… Oops.

That meant that I had to take the vehicle through emissions. This is actually a good thing. I believe in emissions testing and standards. When I grew up the sky was brown at the horizon from automotive exhaust pollution. Five years after strict standards were imposed it was blue again. So while I am not exactly thrilled with the process I don’t complain. The van failed it’s emissions test. OK, so I must take it to a state certified emissions specialist and spend $150 attempting to correct the problem. Sadly my mechanic is not among those, so I took it to the window-licking morons at the local Firestone (On Ranier Ave. in Renton, WA.) Their method of attempting to ‘correct the problem’ was to test it on their own equipment.

Weirdly this did not magically correct the emissions. They signed the waiver for the state saying that I had made the required attempt to correct the problem. Huh? “Did you do anything to try and correct the problem?” we asked.

“There was nothing we could do,” the Firestone guy replied, “It’s too old to have the right error codes. Maybe you need to change the spark plugs.”

Now firmly convinced that the good people of Firestone commute on a short bus while wearing a yellow helmet we left. We could have demanded that they do something for our $150, but at this point we didn’t trust them to sit the right way on a toilet, let alone mess with a vehicle we depend on.

Now, I am pretty sure that if I spent that $150 at my own mechanic he’d have changed the spark plugs and tweaked this and that and the van would have passed its next test. Instead the ‘state certified technician’ stopped what he was doing long enough to stick a tube up the tailpipe and look at a computer screen then shrug in incomprehension. Then he took the printout to the office and went back to throwing excrement and rotten fruit at his coworkers. Or perhaps grooming them.

So I took the van and the piece of paper from Firestone back to the emissions test center where they re-tested my van. It’s hard to imagine but it failed again. So I went into the office and got a waiver to register my still polluting van, all nice and legal like. This system is obviously broken. Imagine my shock.

Having completely wasted $150 we could ill afford to accomplish nothing we will still need to take the van to our mechanic and get it properly sorted out. But now that will have to wait until we can afford it again. Government efficiency at it’s finest. I should note that this entire sca… uh… system is subcontracted out to private industry.

Anyway… the ever-helpful headache has provided me the opportunity to catch up on my writing so I’d best be about it. I hope you all have a terrific weekend.

Dwarven Rifleman Teaser…

Here’s an excerpt from ‘Battlemage: A Soldier’s Tale,’ the next installment of the Dwarven Rifleman series. It’s pre-edit, so if it’s a little rough bear with us…

“Ulfgar Grellsbane and party. There is one among you that does not belong; we’ve come to bring her back to home.”

Ageyra resisted the urge to look at her companion; they could not mean any other person among them. Sergeant Haggyr shifted his grip on the gun, resting the long barrel on his shoulder. The posture was relaxed and non-threatening, but she recognized that the older dwarf would be able to bring the weapon into play very quickly.

“I’m afraid you have been misinformed m’lord. There’s non here but the Corporal, myself and recruits of His Majesty’s Royal Army. Swore them in myself, I did, an no mistake about it.”

The young noble straightened in his saddle, not liking the correction. The others of his party shifted their ponies, spreading out slightly. Ageyra noted that two of them bore guns of their own, and all of them were armed. As if any dwarf on the road would not be, of course.

Gathering his patience visibly the young dwarf spoke again. “The one I speak of was to be my bride, and no offense but she hardly belongs among the… common sorts that join up to soldier. Give her over to us now and we need not get your betters involved in this affair.”

The sergeant shifted and Ageyra saw several of the riders hands twitch towards their weapons. Nervous sorts, she thought, not used to be thwarted either, I’ll wager.

The Sergeant shrugged, and said, “That makes no never mind to me, M’Lord. I’ve no doubt you’ll have the same answer of them I’m giving you now. Best you take yourself and friends back to the city ere it gets too late. You lot don’t look prepared for a night on the road.”

The noble drew himself up and put a hand to the hilt of his sword, his gaze growing stormy as he glared at the Dwarf standing before him.

“Do not mistake me, Sergeant. We mean to have her, and we’ll not leave without her. We are prepared to take her if you force out hands. Surely you don’t think to cross blades with me over a mere girl?”

Maer shifted and made to get up but Ageyra stayed her with a hand on her arm. The other woman looked at her and she shook her head. She subsided, but Ageyra could feel the tension in her.

The Sergeant grinned wolfishly and said, “That I do not M’Lord. That’s why Corporal Kerl is going to shoot you dead the moment that blade clears leather.” The corporal’s long-gun swung up, the muzzle centered unwaveringly on the mounted figure.

“Now,” the sergeant continued mildly, “Is it your intent to take up arms against His Majesty’s Royal Army?”

Fifty-Two and Holding

Fifty-two years old today. In my life I’ve been a soldier, a college student, a busboy, pizza delivery driver, private investigator, police officer, armed security guard, meat-carver at a restaurant, an illustrator, heavy equipment operator, executive assistant to the presidents of corporate banking at Citicorps, a construction worker, a dispatcher, a warehouse manager, a retail clerk, a confidential courier for a currency exchange, a bodyguard, an office worker, a martial arts instructor, a tobacconist, a receptionist, a ‘cover-blurb’ writer and probably a couple that I’ve forgotten. Oh, and a sword-maker and author.

I’ve watched a fifteen-year old boy through the scope on a sniper-rifle and wondered if I would have to blow his head off. I’ve held a woman’s hand as we waited for the emergency crew to come lift her rolled-over car off of her and told her everything would be alright. I’ve fought in deadly earnest with my life on the line. I’ve taken lives, and maybe saved some as well.

I’ve flown a plane, jumped out of a plane, driven in a car race, learned to ride a horse, shot pistols in competition. I’ve hunted deer and wildfowl and camped in the wilderness. I’ve attended Renaissance Fairs and SCA events, been a heavy-fighter and learned to use a rapier. I’ve performed before crowds. I’ve swam in the ocean and been deep-sea fishing. I’ve made love in the desert during a thunderstorm. I’ve cried at weddings and funerals. I’ve written three books, three novellas and numerous short-stories and articles. I’ve gotten to work in my dream job for over twenty years. I married the love of my life and we’re still together.

It’s been a hell of a ride. I could do with another fifty though; I’m not done yet.

Being a writer is a bit surreal. First of all there’s thi...

Being a writer is a bit surreal. First of all there’s this bit about having a ‘Muse.’ This is how the Greeks personified the creative urge; that there was an actual being providing inspiration. It really is almost like a force outside yourself. An immature, selfish and demanding force. It’s a bit like having your day organized by a spoiled two-year old.

I sit down thinking I am going to write on the current project. I have my coffee and am settled in comfortably in front of the computer and am ready to write when suddenly the damned Muse says ‘NO. Write this other thing.’

‘But you don’t understand,’ I say, ‘This is the next project.’

‘NO. This other thing is the next project now.’

“But…’

‘NO. Nonononono.’ The Muse sticks it’s fingers in it’s ears. ‘La la la I can’t hear you la la la!’

‘Fine, fine, I’ll write it!’ I say in exasperation. And I do. Of course just as I am really getting into that the Muse wanders off to look at some random shiny thing.

It can get pretty annoying. And unlike a two-year-old a Muse cannot be bribed with cookies.

*sigh*

Amazon The Antichrist? Please.

OK, I have to weigh in on Hatchette versus Amazon. Come on people, this is NOT David versus Goliath; this is ‘Clash of the Titans.’ The debate is every bit as ridiculous and overblown as that movie. This is one huge corporation versus another huge corporation. Hatchette loves to talk about how Amazon is hurting authors, and they are. But so is Hatchette- and they are hurting their OWN authors. They are not blameless in this.

So why is Amazon being reviled and accused of everything from being a monopoly to eating babies? Fear. Amazon is successful. They are the largest retailer of books in the world, and now they are leveraging that power to dictate terms to traditional publishers. That’s called business, folks. Welcome to the marketplace.

But amazon’s transgressions are far worse than that…

They have cast down the Gate Keepers, and that, not dictating terms, is the crux of the problem.  Publishing was for decades run by ‘The Big Five’ publishing houses. If you weren’t published by them you were an ‘also-ran’ at best.  They were the gatekeepers; the arbiters of what was and was not worthy in the field of literature.  They maintained the exclusivity of the ‘Author’s Club’ by producing a limited number of books each year.  Large, yes, but limited.

Mind you, the quality of literature was seldom the standard that they aspired to.  Decisions about who was and was not worthy were based for the most part on what they thought would sell, not what they thought was ‘good for literature.’  They guessed wrong more often then they guessed right, of course, which build massive inefficiencies into the system.  Waste in that system is enormous; don’t believe me? Next time you walk into a discount book outlet remember that’s what you are looking at- waste and wrong guesses about what was commercially viable and how many they should print.  Because waste is endemic to the system profits must be huge to accommodate that waste and still make money.

Of course one could always self-publish.  This was expensive, risky and seldom profitable.  People looked down on these books, often justifiably so.  Most of them were awful.  Self-publishing was where slush-pile queens went to die.  But then things changed.  Ebooks were introduced.  Ebooks were great; if you printed a book an eBook version was almost pure profit.  Forward-looking publishers like Baen jumped on the bandwagon, and shortly authors realized that they, too could publish an eBook for next to nothing.  Self publishing had just made the jump from expensive to virtually free, and best of all your book could be found by anyone on the internet.  And since overhead was so low they could be offered for a pittance.

The unthinkable happened… people began to sell books. Sometimes a LOT of books. Without the intervention and approval of the traditional publishers.  The Gatekeepers had fallen, and their iron-fisted control was broken forever. And that scares the shit out of them.

So when the opportunity arose to slam Amazon of course they did so. They’re scared and looking for a scapegoat.  A scapegoat OTHER than their own inability to capitalize on new technologies and move with the times.

Which is what this whole tempest in a teapot is really all about.  Fear.

Writing Writing and more Writing

As we just had the launch party for Rage of Angels (You can buy it here)

 

So what do we do? We have 3 more books in the works two of which have nothing to do with the current books! They (the books) just insist they need to be written down. Now this is not a bad thing mind you, but we keep trying to finish the next Diaries book and the others keep interrupting so they are getting written first. SO keep watching these spaces and sign up for our newsletter. I think you will be happily surprised.

Launch Party for Rage of Angels

Hi Everyone,

Just  popping on to let everyone know about our Launch Party for Rage of Angels on Monday May 26th at 3:00pm PST.

https://www.facebook.com/events/453656458103012/

 

Its going to be a blast with guest authors and giveaways.

 Guest writers will be sharing their thoughts on ‘First Contact- Is it survivable as a race and culture?’

I need to start writing less violent stuff…

So once again a story has grabbed me by then throat, backed me up against a wall and said, “Write me. NOW.” I protested that I was in the middle of another project but the story would have none of that. There was nothing for it but to do as it demanded. “Can you at least promise me you are a full novel?” I whin- uh, asked. The story just glared at me and checked the loads in it’s .45 and muttered menacingly. To be fair the story is coming out quickly. Action stories are good that way. Besides, now that I’m into the it I’m dying to see what happens next and how it all ends.

Mind you this story is not one I had ever thought I’d write. It was Linda’s story after all, but she’s busy and the story knows better than to mess with her. She’s scary. Linda, the love-of-my-life-wife-goddess-coauthor thinks it’s cool that a story can grab me and just flow out. I guess maybe it is. So I’ll work half-days in the shop and write obsessively for a while, and in the end there will be one more story off my mental welfare roles and out there in the world supporting itself. That’s a good thing, right?