Last night I dreamt I was getting married, and all of the guests were characters from pop culture. Everyone was there, including: The Doctor, Sherlock, Power Rangers. I had on the outfit I wore to my grandmother's funeral. When I reached the aisle, I realized I had forgotten something at my apartment, so I rushed across the street, but hours had passed by the time I returned. The guests and bridal party still waited; they had been served the food that was supposed to be for the reception to appease them. Someone told me, "These people have been waiting. We need to finish the ceremony." But I had to go back to my apartment a second time. My mother confronted me there, saying she and my dad were devastated that I was moving as far away as Irwin. Irwin is actually the next town over from East McKeesport, my current location. I was confused what she meant by "far away" even though the wedding took place in NYC. I finally made it back, never really figuring out what it was I needed from my apartment, and I started down the aisle--the church was lit with candles and the sky was black, and I really, really did not want to say I do...

I'm an introvert, which for me means I don't do well in crowds for very long, and I need to spend anywhere from a day to a week on my own after a day or two of partying (by partying, I meaning going to the museum and out to lunch with friends or to a convention). It also means I don't say anything unless I have something to say. I'm bad at small talk (working on it). I expect people to start a conversation with me if they want to get to know me, the same as I'll initiate a conversation if I see someone I want to talk to. I don't start chatting just for the hell of it. This puts me in the position of meeting new people. I'm okay with that because I prefer having a few intimate relationships over many acquaintances.

I like being introverted, but I also have anxiety.

When I'm anxious, making plans feels wrong. Hanging out with friends, going on job interviews, and even going out for a walk in the evening makes my gut curl up and tell me that I should not be doing this, this is wrong, and I am going to get hurt and embarrass myself beyond redemption if I continue to do what I'm doing. I have to convince myself I won't die of the most inconsequential things.

Knowing when I need time to myself because I'm introverted is good. Hiding in my room because I'm anxious is bad. My problem is: the lines are blurred between when I need time alone, and when I'm too anxious to see people. It's hard to know the difference because my anxiety always tells me to put things off.

And then there is guilt. I feel so guilty, and so anxious about all the things I should be doing that I end up staring at the wall. (On good days I stare out the window. Sometimes cardinals, blue jays, and canaries land on branches of the tree facing my side of the house. They're soothing.) But I'm also jealous of those birds. They seemingly have no order (though I know they actually do). I want to have less order. My anxiety loves order. This need for order and planning keep me from being spontaneous. It keeps me from packing a bag and heading for Ireland on a whim like the guy from my freshmen English class in college.

Anxiety serves me well in other aspects of my life. Being an anxious writer makes me productive. If I don't write, it will all stay in me and I could die at any moment so I need to write now, now, now. This is also why I read so much. I enjoy these activities more than any other pastimes, which is why my anxiety actually helps me in this aspect. I feel guilty for not writing or reading~~> I choose to do one of those activities~~> I am almost immobilized by more guilt and anxiety that I have chosen this story/book to write/read over all the others and why can't I just write and read everything at once~~>I find my groove, and the anxiety turns into rhythmic peace and relief.

I would never get anything done without anxiety, but I never get enough done with it, either. This year I've set the goal of writing and drawing every day. I've met the writing goal so far. Part of me keeps saying what, what, what are you doing? Look at your life, look at your choices. You're an introvert who has decided to hang out with her characters every day for an entire year! That is more exhausting than seeing a friend for the weekend. I have hundreds of people milling about up here, and they all want out.

This is why I've created a writing ritual involving bells. It keeps my anxiety to a minimum while I'm writing, and conditions me to feel like I've accomplished something once the bell goes off at the end of the session. I'm learning to strike a balance between when I really need to recharge and when I need to hit the ground running, and it's working. I feel better lately.

I'm not getting my hate on just to hate. I'm getting my hate on because this book was the most painful reading experience I have ever had. I didn't think a book could irritate me so much that it would result in a terrible weight in my chest, but it did. It did.

Colfer's prose is cliche and redundant from the first page. His sentences are short and simplistic with no signs of imagery or depth. Instead of showing emotion and action, Colfer opts to tell you what the characters are feeling as blandly as possible. We don't feel the rush of falling through a book into a magical land; instead, we get "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" and a plethora of adverbs (that get worse as the novel goes on).

Was an editor assigned to this book? I think the editor might have been a cat with narcolepsy.

Had The Wishing Spell been written as a straight up parody of faerie tales, it would have been a successful piece of writing. When the twins meet the witch who tried to eat Hansel & Gretel, they find a way to turn her into vegan. Conner notes that compared to the Pevensie children climbing through a wardrobe, and Dorothy being whisked away to Oz via twister, falling through a book was pretty boring. I had to laugh at the latter because I was thinking the same thing, and the former because it was a clever way to portray how modern children would react to villains from old stories they knew well.

Colfer does not engage with faerie tales in a meaningful way. Alex and Conner debate over the messages of the stories at the start of the novel, but by the book's close they only come to the conclusion that the stories have made people happy for years. They do not recognize it is important for these stories to have multiple interpretations, and that there is no correct meaning,

The original characters are flat archetypes--single mother with a heart of gold, slacker boy, smart uptight girl, the perfect grandma is endlessly supportive and offers financial support. Colfer turns beloved faerie tale characters into ineffectual twits; even his semi-interesting version of Goldilocks is reduced to petty name calling when she discovers a betrayal. Snow White shouts in the prologue, and it is said that it was the first time she had ever raised her voice. A woman whose stepmother tried to murder her four times never raised her voice before speaking to her stepmother in a dungeon? No. Colfer also paints Snow White as the paragon of virtue. Though he thanks the Brothers Grimm in his acknowledgements, Colfer ignores the ending printed in their stories in which Snow White makes her mother "dance" in red-hot iron shoes at her wedding. Even the good guys can be cruel, which would have been something wise to impart to readers, but he made the disappointing decision to gloss over it.

All of the scrapes Alex and Conner find themselves in are easily solved through helpful adults whom have no problem sacrificing themselves for two annoying kids they just met. This plot device is irritating not only because it is repetitive, but also because Conner feels perfectly comfortable insulting and walking all over the people he meets. As soon as they get to the Land of Stories, he designates a frog-man as Froggy rather than letting the frog-man establish his own identity. Alex waffles between being the responsible one and having no common sense. How does a bookworm manage to climb Rapunzel's tower without any mountain climbing gear? It seems Colfer changed the characters to suit his whims as he went on. The twins mostly storm from kingdom to kingdom telling the monarchs that they suck at being monarchs (unless they're busy being good wives and mothers), and solve simple problems for them that make the faerie tale characters seem like jokes rather than complex figures.

The land of stories is not a Hogwarts, Narnia, or Oz--both terrifying and delightful. It is pretty much just terrifying and miserable. Why would anyone want to go there? Furthermore, why would a child want to read about such an unhappy place?

Verdict: Don't read this. Watch Fushigi Yuugi instead.

August, thank goodness you're here. July was so dark; it rained too much even for me. Here's what I need now: sunlight and the scent of fresh cut flowers, and the tartest blackberries you can manage.

I finished the first draft of my first novel at a short 52K words. I'm relieved I don't have to work on it anymore because I was sick of that story. I'm outlining something new now. This new WIP feels better, it feels like the story I should be writing at this point in my life. The last WIP was the story I started writing when I was 19, the story I wrote and revised and restarted throughout college as I began to learn how to write. It's not me anymore. When I closed the file, I knew it wasn't the story I wanted to tell. So I'm letting it sit on the hard drive until I'm ready to look it in the eye again. This new WIP is a faerie tale retelling; it's the story I thought I wouldn't tell because I didn't have anything new to say. Turns out I was wrong.

This week I just can't keep things straight. Every night I ask myself, What day is Grandma coming home? And there is a terrible moment where I have to remind myself she isn't coming home. I didn't think I'd be this angry, but I am. My friends have been there for me, getting me through these uncertain days. I'm not sure where I'll be living by the end of the year. I have a job interview next week.

August, be good to me.

My grandmother passed away last night. She was my last living grandparent, and the one I knew best. I haven't talked about this publicly because her diagnosis of breast, bone, and bone marrow cancer only happened within the last 30 days, and her condition changed from day to day. Thank you to those who have supported me throughout this, and thank you to everyone who will send good thoughts now. Grandma Trudy leaves behind a large family that loves her very much, and will all be together soon to honor her. Her wake will be held on Wednesday and Thursday at Alfieri Funeral Home in Wilmerding, PA. I will post viewing times when I know them.

Originally posted by shveta_thakrar at Presenting the Cultural Imperialism Bingo Card

Here are some cool links that have shown up on my radar lately.

Dear Speculative Fiction, I'm Glad We Had This Talk by Elizabeth Bear.

I'm not widely read enough to proclaim what Bear says here is dead on, but I do like what she's saying. I see optimism in small press work, but the big players just love the grim right now. The Hunger Games is about a revolution of people with no choice or opportunities in their lives. Publishers want to print this story, filmmakers want to put it on the big screen. Where is the call for adaptations of Graceling or Tamora Pierce's Tortall books? Those stories are about women transgressing society or functioning in a society where women-as-equals works and is accepted or is starting to be accepted. It seems like people just want to read/watch the grim stuff that leads to a revolution so they don't have to deal with a functional society that doesn't resemble their dysfunctional one. This doesn't only apply to roles of women, of course. That example is always at the front of my mind.

io9 published an article today about the most successful self-published sci-fi and fantasy authors. I agree with that bit at the end about traditional publishing and self-publishing becoming the norm. There are always going to be books that will be considered inaccessible by the Big Six, and even smaller publishers. Self-publishing should help to promote diverse and risk-taking fiction to readers (though the Big Six still need to get their acts together regarding diversity).

The Nebula Awards Banquet is tonight! I am so frakkin' excited! I'd hoped for the webcast like the Hugos last year, but it looks like it isn't happening. Maybe someone will film it and put in online next week. You can watch the live broadcast here.

The Hugo Awards Voter Packet is out. For $50 you will get $300 worth of books, magazines, and some music! You also get to cast your vote on who you think should win one of the most prestigious awards in the speculative fiction field.

Ordinary Magic is a brilliant twist on the tradition of magic school a la Earthsea and Harry Potter. When twelve-year-old Abby Hale finds out she is an Ord, a person with zero magical ability, she is condemned by society as undesirable, and is open to being sold as a slave. The selling of Ords has been outlawed by the recently crowned King Steve, but not everyone cares about the law. Luckily for Abby, she has a family full of rational people who turn away the bigots looking to buy Abby.

This novel quickly won my heart with its witty cast. It's a feat of writing when minor characters have so much charm and personality that they feel like friends as much as the main character. Abby's brother Gil is a romance writer published under a woman's name, and her sister Alexa is a gifted, no-sense, butt-kicking magic user working in education. Rubino-Bradway does such a smashing job of connecting you with Abby's family that when it is finally time for Abby to move away to Ord school, you feel the same jitters Abby feels about leaving her comfort zone.

But once at school, a second cast of intriguing and sometimes frightening classmates are introduced along with the professors, whom are endlessly pleased when no deaths occur over the summer. Beneath the fun and playful tone of the story, there is a tale of very real danger and misery in Abby's world. While Abby is comfortable at school, many other Ords are homeless or being assaulted without any hope of seeing justice. But even the seemingly safe walls of Abby's school aren't enough to keep out nearly universal hatred, and some very unfriendly fae with some very sharp teeth.

Caitlen weaves the issue of Ord inequality to be parallels of racism, class systems, and ableism. In one particularly painful scene, Abby and her friends witness how an Ord whom is paid for work rather than enslaved is still made to perform stereotypes in order to entertain magic users. I found myself wondering if I should feel sorry for Ords--turns out I probably shouldn't. None of them seem to feel sorry for themselves, and don't envy magic users. The Ords often relish in their own way of doing things, but that is not to say they are portrayed as enjoying oppression. Ordinary Magic will raise questions about how you contribute to and combat oppression while delivering a thrilling story.

The ending leaves itself in a dangerous place. While this is the first in a series, the conclusion of Abby's first adventure is unresolved in troubling ways. This bit of realism does not itself feel out of place. Rather, it is the unmet call to action that feels strange. Rubino-Bradway has taken a risk that she will hopefully deliver on in forthcoming titles.

School and Work

Nothing is official yet, but I'm looking into getting my Master in Library Science with a specialization in Children & Youth Services. I hit upon the idea in February, and still can't understand what I never thought of this before. I know I was wrapped up in the idea that I had to get a job in publishing because that is just what you do with an English degree these days, but come on. I'm going to shadow some classes at Pitt next semester, and make my final decision then.

Tomorrow I start a minimum wage job that I really hope won't crush my soul the way all of my other minimum wage jobs that weren't Borders have. The good jobs just won't call me.I keep applying for library positions, which I've been doing since before I thought about going to library school, but I haven't heard a thing even though I'm totally qualified and not at all overqualified. At least I will have money to do things and go places.

Writing

I discovered a time management strategy called the Pomodoro Technique via Sara Zarr's podcast This Creative Life, and I've been applying it to my writing. It goes like this: Work on a task for 25 minutes, take a 5 minute break, work on the task for another 25 minutes. After four sets of 25 minutes, take a break for about 15-20 minutes before returning to the task. The first day I wrote 2442 words(palindrome score!) in 2.5 hours (I didn't know about the longer break at that point). That is a record shattering count for me. This particular method works for me because I feel like I have to earn those 5 minutes of doing whatever I want. My idea of time has also changed in just a few short days. At first I thought 25 minutes seemed like eternity, but it really isn't much time at all when I'm trying to get a scene to a certain point before the clock reaches zero.

Sleepwalkers, my YA horror novel, is at 41,107 words as of this entry. The first act is over, and the second opened with murder, so I'm getting to the great stuff.

I have two stories on submission right now. One is for Apex Books' Dark Faith 2 anthology and the other is awaiting a reader at Asimov's. The former has been awaiting a response for over two months; the latter has been waiting one month. In my anxious state for acceptances or rejections, I am working on two other short stories to send out, as well as songs and poems.

I wrote my first song (lyrics only) last month. Not brave enough to share it yet, but I'll tell you it is about violence in fairy tales. The second song is also fairy tale-related, and is much more ambitious than the first.

Sirens!

I'm working on presentations/papers to submit to this year's Sirens. Theme: Tales Retold.

1. Bluebeard/Beauty and the Beast Presentation

Several people in the Sirens programming brainstorm sessions expressed interest in a presentation that would compare and contrast these two stories. I latched on to the idea because I love these tales. So far my ideas for the analysis include:

-how the heroines relationships with the monsters begin (e.g. willing vs. unwilling) and how they conclude
-monstrous men as redeemable and irredeemable figures
-themes of love, hate and faith in both stories
-both beast characters give the heroine instructions that lead to her having a choice in her fate
-the consequences of curiosity
-these tales as anti eros & psyche stories

2. Hymn to Demeter retold as Persephone's story

YA novels have been trending towards retellings of Hymn to Demeter, in which Hades kidnaps Persephone and Demeter searches the world for her, from Persephone's point of view. Demeter is regulated to the role of overbearing mother or is portrayed as weak, Persephone chooses to go to the Underworld, and Persephone's love for Hades comes at the cost of losing a bond with her mother. I especially want to talk about what Persephone's agency means for Demeter's agency, and the dismissal of a matriarchal character for a youth.

I already know of these, Sarah Diemer's The Dark Wife, and the representations of Persephone and Demeter in the Percy Jackson series. I know there are others out there, but I can't find them anymore. Let me know of any recs you have!

Well, after writing all of that out, my ideas look like they're in pretty good shape. Now I just have to write the proposals.

It's Support Teen Lit Day and you, yes YOU, can help out by rocking the drop. What is Rock the Drop?

1. Acquire YA book.
2. Print out bookplate.
3. Leave YA book in a public place and take a picture.
4. Tweet picture with hashtag #rockthedrop on Twitter and/or upload the picture to the Readergirlz Facebook page.

( My Contribution to Rock the DropCollapse )

If you can't do it today, no one will be mad if you do it tomorrow or whenever you get a chance. I left my book in a playground, but you can leave it in a park, on the bus, at the post office, etc. Don't be afraid to leave the book in a place where you think an adult might find it. After that ridiculous Joel Stein article, we know we need to show adults why YA is an amazing genre.

Leaving a book in public is a weird feeling. I took the picture and reached for the book to put it back in my purse. I had to remind myself that I meant to leave the book there. When I turned away, my mind reminded me to take the book, and again I had to tell myself I meant to leave the book. Even my muscle memory acted up. My hand felt like it was missing something without the book in it. Phantom book syndrome, I tell you.