P.J. Fox's Blog, page 17

Yes, Disney IS Racist

Troll the internet enough, and you’ll see memes like this:

 

What’s worse, they’re touted as “genius.”

Let’s dissect this, shall we?

First, the whole argument is a straw man.  The original poster wasn’t accusing Disney of whitewashing, but of being racist.  Which it is.  Don’t agree with me?  Think about this:

“Disney isn’t whitewashing, because it’s setting all its movies in places where people are supposed to be white” is a circular argument. How’s about Disney didn’t do that? Yes, “Brave” is set in the Highlands and that makes sense for the story; but there’s no particular reason that “The Little Mermaid” couldn’t, for example, have been set in Spain. It might have been set somewhere else, originally, but you know what? The titular mermaid also dies in the original. Disney plays pretty fast and loose with its interpretations of many of the classic tales, changing things around, and adding and subtracting at will. Most Disney versions bear little or no resemblance to the originals.  “The people in Germany are white, so of course we need to use stories set in Germany and while all the original characters might have died in the Hans Christian Andersen version, and we couldn’t let that happen, and we had to insert a prince because there wasn’t one, and of course there has to be romance and of course there has to be girl power, and of course there has to be singing, and of course there has to be a funky animal sidekick because squad goals, we couldn’t possibly make anyone black.”

Gotta be true to history, dontcha know.

Now on to the rest of the argument.

If it had to happen at all, it should have begun with pointing out that there are in fact several films that positively portray women of color (the correct term is women of color, not “ethnic ladies”). But the real question isn’t whether an adult, non-person of color thinks there are enough but whether our children do. While a white girl can watch Disney movies and see many different princesses that look like her, or almost, what: a hispanic girl is supposed to identify with Jasmine because, while she’s not from the same race or culture, she’s brown? We do need more women of color on television, and in books.  We need to not have the “OMG WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE NOT WHITE IN THE BOOKS” reaction that half the world had to the big reveal that The Hunger Games films were whitewashed.  To, you know, make them more acceptable to audiences.

Here’s a radical idea: how’s about we stop equating “white” with “more appealing?”

Five Ugly Realities of Being a Full Time Writer

I found myself, earlier today, in a position I’ve been in before: telling someone who came to me, asking for advice on a writing career, not to pursue one.  Which, taken out of context, sounds really horrible.  And maybe is really horrible, even with all the context in the world.  But I’d like to explain myself, even so, and explain what I mean.  Because, truthfully, I love writing and I think anyone else who loves writing should absolutely write.  The last thing I want is to perpetuate the kind of scarcity mentality bullshit that’s plagued the writing community for so long.  But at the same time, I want you to know…

Don’t quit your day job.  There’s a myth out there that publishing a book is like winning the lottery: that acceptance letter, from whatever publishing house picked you, is a ticket to riches.  Everyone pictures themselves, on some level, as the next [fill in the name of famous, highly respected or, at least, highly prolific author here].  Maybe they’re straight up telling their family and friends that they’re the next E.L. James; maybe they only daydream about ousting Neil Gaiman from his throne in the shower.  But the truth is that the average traditionally published author makes ten thousand dollars per year.  The average self-published author makes half that.

And even if you do fantastically well, if you live in America those royalty checks also have to cover healthcare and all the other benefits you don’t get if you work for someone else.  Even those jobs where you’re paying a copay for health insurance…that copay is a lot smaller than what you’ll be forking over once you’re on your own.  Then, of course, there’s the uncertainty of royalty checks: how much will you earn this month?  Because even if you land yourself a bestseller…

Each single doesn’t last very long.  I’ve talked before, on this blog and via podcast, about how The Demon of Darkling Reach paid for my son’s college education.  Well, he’s three; it funded his college fund.  Thanks to a history-heavy story about flesh eating demons, in fifteen years or so he’ll be able to attend the college of his choice, anywhere in the world.  I feel pretty good about that.

But it’s only one book and you can quickly go from selling upwards of 1,500 copies per day to selling 5.  Or none.  Each book has a, pardon the expression, a shelf life.  People want to know when the next installment in the series, or indeed the next series is coming out.  You can’t rely on selling so many copies of one book that your future is secure.  Traditionally published authors are in a rockier boat, here, than their self-published counterparts because guess what: if they don’t hear a single, they drop you.  All it takes is one underperforming book.  This is a very competitive industry and goodwill, sadly, doesn’t always go that far.  You have to keep writing, and not simply writing but finishing.  All in the knowledge that your next book may tank.  Because you can’t predict what people will, and won’t like.  They barely know themselves and, to some extent, sales are a product of fashion.

Your coworkers are terrible.  Writers can be a jealous, mean-spirited bunch.  The same scarcity mentality I referenced earlier often keeps them from supporting each other and, indeed, encourages them to tear each other down.  I wish I could say that this was true only of the posers but it’s not; successful writers, too, can be real jackasses.

Your hours are even worse.  However you publish, you’re responsible for doing your own legwork.  You promote: yourself and your work.  You create a product, and you do all this while also writing to deadline.  There is no such thing as clocking out early and going home.  Your work follows you home–it follows you everywhere.  And don’t expect to get much sympathy, when you complain about your soul-crushing stress at family dinners.  You’re “only” a writer.  They’re more likely to respond with penetrating questions about how, exactly, you’re paying your mortgage.

You’ll wind up with at least one stalker.  And I’m not even talking about the people who make it their life’s mission to trash you on Goodreads, because they’re frustrated authors, themselves.  And yes, even published authors–even reasonably successful published authors–troll each other, on Goodreads and elsewhere, hoping that their searingly insightful, 5,000 word review will be the one to trash your chances of ending up on any bestseller lists.  No, I’m talking about the people who see something in your work, often something that utterly is not there, and then send you dick pics and lurid first person essays about their sexual fantasies.  Who make worrying remarks about your children.  Who tell you how much they hate you, based on something you shared on Twitter.  These people have serious problems, for which they’re determined to make you their scapegoat.

Everyone’s an expert.  They’ll tell you that your carefully researched book, written by you, the person with a degree in medieval history, is “wrong.”  Because they picture things differently.  They’ll tell you that your writing is ruining their life.  And if you write queer-positive stories like I do, you’ll get a whole different class of hate mail.  Some people just do not like the transsexuals, bisexuals, and brown people in my books.  Well, too bad for them…but, at the same time, the negativity can get wearing.  If you’re thinking about writing, because you’re excited to share your stories with the world and get positive feedback, pick a different profession.

Yes, you do get positive feedback, and that makes all the difference in the world.  Knowing one of my books has touched someone makes everything worthwhile, for me.  But I’m fortunate in that my books are really starting to find their niche, with people who love them.  It…wasn’t like that when I first published.  I had to wait a long time for that first positive review.  And even then, it’s an unfortunate truism of writing that, for the most part, the people who leave reviews are the ones with an axe to grind.  To see what I mean, check out one of your favorite YouTuber’s more popular videos sometime.  And then check out the hit counter versus the number of “likes.”  I think, speaking for myself, that I’ve probably sold a couple thousand books at least for every positive review I’ve gotten.

What gets you through, at the end of the day, is that you love writing.  It’s loving writing, it’s needing to write.  For me, writing is like breathing.  It’s just something that has to happen and I don’t question it–although I occasionally do worry about my ability to do it being, for whatever reason, taken away.  My characters are, I’m ashamed to admit, more real to me than many of the people in my “real” life.  I love my fans, too, and I love hearing from them–more than they realize, trust me on this, hearing from someone that they liked one of my books is the next best thing to Taylor Swift appearing in my living room–but I never would have gotten to the point of having any fans if that first, that strongest love hadn’t kept me going when nothing else could have.

So is it worth it?

For me, yes.  What about you?  Let me know in the comments.

The Line Between Opinion and Morality

pjfoxwrites:

This. One thousand percent this.

Originally posted on James Cormier:

The Supreme Court’s decision in Obergefell v. Hodges legalizing gay marriage nationally whipped the Internet into a rainbow-colored whirlwind of hope and love.  Supporters, gay, lesbian, and straight alike flocked to computers and mobile devices and the streets to share links and proudly display rainbow flags and profile pictures.  History was made.  It was a victory for the United States and humanity.  But even amidst all the celebrating, it was hard to ignore the ever-present voices of discord.

Leading up to this decision and certainly after it, the question (now answered) of whether to support same-sex marriage has been a divisive issue.  Everyone knows someone who opposes the idea for one reason or another.  The most obvious examples of this are the conservative Christian zealots, who express hatred openly.  I think reasonable people everywhere can agree that people who spout hatred are wrong, whatever their intent or denomination.  More subtle and…

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“I Don’t Know How To Feel About This”

Recently, I was having a discussion with a couple of friends about why romance, as a genre, embraced such stupid terminology.  Why say “molten member” when you can just say “cock?”  Doesn’t suddenly encountering a loving description of his “tumid shaft of love” kind of…take you out of the moment?  I mean, what kind of masturbatory material is that?

My proposed explanation was–is–that “romance” equates to, in most people’s minds–even if they don’t recognize this as such–non-challenging relationships, non-challenging sex, and general conformity to the most simplistic set-ups possible.  People like to know how to feel.  It helps them to enjoy the book and, indeed, a certain segment of the reading population can’t enjoy a book unless they know how to feel.  Writing about themes of gender identity, slavery, and sexually motivated violence, one has ample occasion to consider this issue.  People want “this is bad, this is good.  These people wear the white hats, and these people don’t.”  And then you come along with your solidly gray–no pun intended and no, I don’t intend to read it–and everyone just freaks out.  “Music to my dick” may be some of the worst writing going, but E.L. James succeeds in presenting a narrative that comes pre-equipped with talking points.

Christian Grey, as a character, is de-fanged by being “flawed.”  The “man who needs saving” being that other classical trope of romance.  He’s not really responsible for his actions and, anyway, what it really turns out that he needs is mothering.  Which, this particular dynamic–and why it’s so popular–is the subject of another post.  It’s quite the different proposition altogether when you present a male lead who assuredly is flawed, not because he’s secretly a wee little lamb who just needs squeezing but because we are all flawed.  Whose character traits aren’t a convenient plot device, to be disposed of in the proper moment but rather a part of who he is.

Personally, I’d always found the idea rather comforting that we could be accepted for who we are.  That one doesn’t need to change, to be worthy of love.  After all, isn’t this real life?  Isn’t the best that any of us can hope for, as flesh and blood readers (and writers) rather than elements of fiction that we can, in fact, be loved for exactly who we truly are?  That we will?  I’ve been happily partnered for ten years now and it’s not because either of us are perfect.  Far from.

Rather, the traditional viewpoint is what’s always discouraged me.  That isn’t “love,” it’s bait and switch.  Which is, I suppose, why Kisten doesn’t stop being a sex addict and Ash doesn’t lose his M.M. Kaye-esque yearning for the Raj and Tristan doesn’t morph back into a human being.  Incidentally, too, I find it supremely ironic that many of the same readers who bemoan my inclusion of “pointless” details like where Ash is from in India and what it’s like for him to return there also wax poetic about how my characters seem so real.  They’re real, precisely because I don’t leave out those parts that make them real.  Because Ash being Indian, for example, is more than the most convenient explanation for his being a brown person.  He’s Indian, like Kisten is Indian, because I have something to say about life in India.

The fact that most romantic heroes these days seem to be blindingly white and dressed in kilts right there leaves one hanging.  Where are the Huffpost mini-articles explaining how this fits into the conventional narrative of feminism?  Romance is escapism, and no one wants to think on their vacations.  Which, from that perspective at least means I’ve failed.  Although I’ve always agreed with the sentiment that, expect a fish to climb a tree and it’ll spend its whole life believing itself stupid.  Fortunately for me, I’m not trying to write romance.

Begging the question, I suppose, how much romance is too much?  At what point does “meandering doorstop of a tome that includes romance” require a reevaluation of balances?  Bringing us, eventually, back to the first question: how should I feel about this?

For Writers: Are Friends Necessary?

In response to my solicitation for questions, both here and on Facebook, I got one question!  Luckily it was a really good one.  Below, the question in its entirety and my answer (after the jump).

How important to you think it is to have other writers around you to bounce ideas off, share doubts and fears and basically just TALK to? And I mean around you as in PHYSICALLY around you, there in your actual space as opposed to at the other end of a keyboard, zipcode Cyberspace? Do you think the chances of success with writing (in the sense of having the drive and courage to get published) are improved in a more meaningful way when your support comes from the physical rather than the virtual world, or do you think it can still be achieved even when your support is exclusively online?

I actually have a sticker on my computer that reads, “computers are my friends.”  It should read, “all my friends are computers.”  With the exception of my husband, who is assuredly my best friend, all of my other friends live nowhere near me.  Moreover, I’m an unabashed hermit.  I do enjoy quiet activities, such as going out for coffee, but for the most part that’s not an option–which means that I tend to “go out for coffee” while curling up on the living room couch, in front of the fire, in cold months, or on the screen porch in hot, with my own cup of home-brewed coffee and my computer.  Some of my very best friends are people I’ve met online; others, I met initially in “real” life and then, when they moved, our relationship transitioned into an online one.

I think the best thing about making friends via the internet is that you can meet people who, under “normal” circumstances, you’d never normally meet.  Meaning that the only criteria are the friendship criteria that should truly matter.  When not limited by geography, one can be more picky.  And I think that’s why, overall, I am blessed with such good friendships.  So many of my friendships in college, and law school, I realize now were friendships of making do.  And the best of a bad lot, or even a mediocre lot might be fine for the time being–or even feel like a victory–but “making do” often doesn’t stand the test of time.  Usually doesn’t.

I’ve experienced a few transitions in friendship, too, over the years, as my life changed and my friends’ lives did.  It’s a truism that you find out who your friends are when you fail, but in my experience it’s more accurate that you find out who your friends are when you succeed.  Jealousy has ended a couple of friendships, not because I was rolling in Jaguars and deciding which yacht to waterski behind but because I was doing what I wanted with my life.  And some other people…weren’t.

As is so often the case, however, the good news and the bad news were (are) the same news: those transitions leveled the playing field.  I stopped judging the validity of my online friendships and reviewed, instead, my friendships in term of their actual quality.  Who were these people?  Did they appreciate my efforts to support them and, in turn, were they capable of supporting me?  Was time spent with them, whatever the means of communication, beneficial?  And once I began analyzing things in those terms, I realized what perhaps should have been obvious to me all along: that distance isn’t, and shouldn’t be, the deciding factor in friendship.  The fact that none of my friends lived close by didn’t mean that I “had no friends,” or should start looking for new ones.  The fact that my friends all lived in my computer was (is) perfectly okay.

In terms of writing–as in everything else, I think–the most beneficial friends are the ones capable of appreciating your creative efforts without feeling threatened by them.  Who are capable of offering honesty.  Who are, too, secure in their own lives.

I couldn’t do anything I do without my best friend and partner, the wonderful Mr. PJ.  I do think that having support in one’s home is vital.  It’s next to impossible to get up every morning, excited to achieve one’s dreams when one’s own environment is poisoned.  Compassion and understanding for the trials undergone by anyone giving their all to achieving their dream is a challenge to give, as well, which is why communication–and patience–is so vital.  Of course, Mr. PJ is also a writer and so he does understand.  Although our processes are quite different and we don’t talk about writing as much as one might think.  The danger being, of course, that our home becomes the All The Time Writing Hut and not much of a sanctuary at all.  One needs a break from one’s job, however much one loves that job.

So while my support isn’t exclusively online, it mostly is.  I’ve published thirteen books, of course, so achieving success–to the extent that I have, in fact, achieved success–certainly is possible.  I think, though, that the greater issue is whether one has found a system that works for oneself.  This system works for me.  I feel personally and creatively fulfilled by my friendships, and get the in-person social interaction I need, as limited as my needs are in that area, from both my family and from the demands of parenthood.  Play dates, teacher conferences, participating in activities at school.  That sort of thing.  I do feel as though I’m a contributing member of my community and that’s important to me.

My drive to write has always come from within, though.  I’d still write if I were trapped on a desert island.  No amount of external support or discouragement has really made any lasting, long term impression.  Rather, the issue was never one of freeing my stories but of dealing with the exhaustion of holding them in–like a desperate run to the toilet.  And some would argue that they’re of the same quality!

What’s helped me write, though, more than anything was to create an environment where I felt comfortable being myself.  Removing those influences–from furniture to people–that discouraged me and building up, instead, those things (from writing areas to people) that helped me grow positively.  Engaging in activities that made me feel good about myself.  And the more I’ve done that, over time, the easier it’s been to write.  And write.  And write!

Soliciting Questions

So, I thought it’d be fun to do a Q and A.  Which, of course, would require you, my people of the internet, to ask me some questions.  That I can then at least attempt to answer.  No subject is off limits…so this could potentially get quite interesting.  If I get enough questions (as in, if anyone asks any at all!), they, along with their answers, will appear in the next post.

Call Me Caitlyn

Beyond, “good for her, she’s hot,” and “wow, I’m shallow,” I challenged myself to come up with some deeper thoughts about Ms. Jenner.  I was told that, if I gave myself some time, they’d come.  Well, time passed and…my honest response is that I don’t really care who’s a man and who’s a woman.  Gender, in the sense of someone else’s gender, is pretty irrelevant to me.  I mean, it’s part of their identity and that’s important, in terms of knowing and understanding them, but it’s their identity.  If Caitlyn’s a woman, then she’s a woman.  The history of her genitals is pretty irrelevant and, besides, I tend not to dwell on other people’s genitals because that’s an invasion of privacy (I don’t really want people dwelling on mine) and, heck, I’m a married woman.

My husband and I were talking about this and I blurted out, “but does she litter?”  I care so much more about whether she–whether everyone–respects the earth.  Conserves the resources with which they’ve been entrusted, or acts wastefully.  Is a hypocrite.  Attempts to force their religious beliefs on others.  Makes any attempt, on their own time, to live out the meaning of those supposed beliefs.  Treats children and animals with respect.  I am so much more interested in a person’s position on veganism than I am on their genitals.  On what they think about income inequality, and access to education.  What does it mean, to them, to be a good person?

Those are the questions that matter, and none of them can be found in a person’s pants.

Porn For Women

Do you wish your wife (or partner) would turn into a raging sex beast?

Then good news!  Even you can make this happen in two simple steps.  Three if you want extra kink points.  Clean the house and cook dinner.  For the truly ambitious, both in and out of the bedroom (or wherever your preferred sex-having place is), do a couple loads of laundry.  And yes, that includes folding.  But even tossing a load into the washing machine will probably earn you a few tickles.

This “clean up after your woman and she’ll bust out the latex” phenomenon has, of course, been observed.  The most adorable–and adorably asinine–explanation I’ve seen essentially compared women to soft, fuzzy creatures who liked to feather their nests.  They couldn’t, the (male) writer posited, get in the mood if their environs were messy because they, themselves, wanted to clean.  Which…no, world, women everywhere are not postponing awesome sexy time because their cleaning drives are just that much stronger.  The way to a woman’s heart (and pants) is to understand her, and that includes understanding that a lot of what people are expected to “just do” is actually exhausting, stressful, and terrible.

Writing the books I write, I spend a fair bit of time pondering the question of what makes people want to have sex.  And not have sex.  And, of course, having been a sexually active adult for some years now I have some personal experience as well.  The proverbial “flowers, chocolates, and promises you don’t intend to keep,” to quote Cogsworth, are nice–but meeting your partner’s needs is nicer.

As You May Have Noticed…

I’m working on a presentation overhaul.  There’s a lot of content on this blog–probably too much, because there are way too many posts like these, that muse on endlessly about nothing–and it was getting hard to navigate.  I’m also working on rewriting some of the static sections.  The problem, really, is that there aren’t enough hours in the day.  Which, considering that lately I’ve been working by six in the morning and working, still, through dinner is a little discouraging.  But there are few enough times in life when opportunities present themselves; what a shame to treat those times like any other times.  Every day of one’s life shouldn’t be exactly the same; I’ve never understood, really, those who strive for sameness as some sort of ideal.  To feel the same every day, to confront the same challenges.  If you’re upset, feel upset; if you’re scared, feel scared.  And if you’re presented with an opportunity, don’t let it go because, on some other day, when you didn’t have an opportunity, you would have taken the afternoon off.

Religion in The Demon of Darkling Reach

Someone recently posted an Amazon review stating,

“As in any discussion of evil, religion plays a part. Fox has crafted a fantasy religion loosely based on the early Roman Catholic Church, particularly as early church practices related to attitudes on women and heresy. Structured religion is characterized as filled with hypocrisy and ignorance. Any positive or loving doctrine is ignored, which I found odd for a book that seemed intent on balancing views of good and evil in nearly every other context.”

I, for the most part, enjoy reading four and five star reviews; I particularly enjoy hearing others tell me what my books are about because, you know, I am writing these books for them–for you.  I, of course, have my own interpretations but as a college professor of my husband’s used to say, “trust the tale, not the teller.”  In other words, a book is about what it’s about to you.  What matters isn’t some abstract interpretation that you “should” have, but your own, genuine emotional and intellectual reaction(s) to the material.

I can’t help, though, but respond to this reviews point about religion.  Because it seems to contain a question–why is “positive or loving doctrine” ignored?  The answer, of course, being that it isn’t.  The actual religious teachings in TDODR is based on the Cathar sect of Christianity, popular–until the Cathars were eradicated–during the high middle ages.  The Cathars were, of course, Catholic.  Or at least saw themselves to be.  The mainstream church disagreed.  The politics of the church, in Isla’s world, are however squarely based on the mainstream Roman Catholicism of that time.  And yes, it’s an especially bleak experience that Isla, in particular, has.  Because, you see, the dichotomy isn’t between those who hold one kind of interpretation versus those who hold another, or between sects of Christianity, but between religious dogma and spirituality.

TDODR is, in some senses, a critique of organized religion and of how it can act on the weak-minded.  A religion can’t make you bad, just like it can’t make you good; but it can provide an outlet for the urges you already have.  The “good guys,” in this series–and I think this is what throws people, sometimes, about it–aren’t Christian.  They aren’t even, necessarily, religious.  Tristan is, within the framework of the world I’ve created, a man of science.

Whether a doctrine is positive and loving depends on she who practices it.  In this world, the church’s influence on society has given many who dare to challenge their own moral compass reason to abandon it.  Which is, in reality, the case in this world as well: often the most positive and loving thing you can do is exchange religion for truth.  Whatever that truth looks like to you.  Living one’s own authentic life, true to the ultimate principles of one’s morality, might include worshipping a god and it might not.  But what it will never contain–what true morality will never contain–is aping someone else’s laundry list of rules.  Which Jesus Himself points out, in Matthew: He calls those people “empty tombs.”

There are religions, which receive a much more positive treatment in this series.  Namely, Wicca.  Wicca doesn’t conceptualize good and evil in the same manner as Christianity, and so sometimes I think Wicca-based value judgments–in my books as well as in others’–are overlooked.  Particularly if they’re subtle.  Carl Jung asked, “how can I be substantial if I fail to cast a shadow?  I must have a dark side if I am to be whole.”  “Evil,” from a Wiccan perspective, is imbalance.  Christian theology has, for the most part, reduced all polarities to “good versus evil,” whereas Wicca accepts that polarity merely is.  That two (or more) forces exist in opposition does not, therefore, render one (or more) evil.  Magnets repel and attract; the seasons come and go.  “Evil” is a human construct, meant to help us identify meaning in the world around us.  To make sense of chaos, and to provide a feeling of safety within that chaos.

The God and Goddess are a mixture of values, just as we all are.  There is no positive dogma to be found here, as there is no dogma.  Only action–or the lack thereof.  Because what makes people good or bad, regardless of their stated belief, is action.