Friday will see you all again in 2018!
- Photographer shoots wildlife like professional models
- Some good news items from 2017
- Quarter of a million dominoes falling. Both hypnotic and soothing.
I did it! I dodged almost all spoilers for The Last Jedi for more than a week until we were finally able to go see it.
I was a little nervous — reactions seemed really polarized for this one. Some people loved it, others hated it. Some of the hate was from trolls who couldn’t stand the idea of a franchise where white dudes weren’t front and center, but not all.
Personally? I loved it. And after a little spoiler space, I’ll talk about why…
Friday is pro-Porg.
A throwback to my blog from December 2007. I believe I was referring to the synopses for The Mermaid’s Madness and Red Hood’s Revenge. As for the emotional roller coaster about writing and synopses? Let’s just say little has changed in the past decade.
You know, I go through a lot of emotional ups and downs when I write a novel. Some days I’m convinced I’m the most brilliant author who ever set pen to paper. Other days, I’m a washed-up hack who should have his fingers broken to prevent me from inflicting this garbage on the world.
It’s all part of the process of creating a novel, and I’ve gotten used to it.
However, over the past two weeks, I’ve written two synopses. Remember, a synopsis is a highly condensed version of a novel.
Suffice it to say, I’m feeling a bit of emotional burnout, and I want a cookie.
Happily, I think I’m done, and if all goes well, tomorrow I’ll be mailing all of this junk to my agent (who has glanced at both synopses by e-mail, and approves).
Twas another year ending, and all cross the net,
all the authors were blogging and starting to fret.
The Nebula ballots were open for noms,
and authors were sweating and wiping their palms.
They posted their eligible works from for the year
while dreaming of Hugos and Campbells and beer.
And I at my desktop with cat in my lap,
had just started posting my own year’s recap…
I’ve got two things I want to highlight this year, for anyone who might be doing the award nominating thing. I’m happy to send a copy of either or both if you’re reading for nominations — just shoot me a note.
Short Story: “The Fallow Grave of Dream,” from The Death of All Things, edited by Laura Anne Gilman and Kat Richardson. This is a relatively short work about a disabled child who discovers their power as the Death of Dream.
Related Work: Invisible 3, which I co-edited with Mary Anne Mohanraj, is eligible for the Hugo Award for Best Related Work. This is a collection of 18 essays and poems about representation in SF/F. You can read several of the essays online.
For the completionists, here’s everything that came out from me in 2017:
2017 also saw the release of the mass market paperback of Revisionary, but that wasn’t a new work. Just a new format.
So there you have it. One year of Jim-writing.
I sprang to my feet, thinking “I need some scotch.”
When the cat gave a yowl and dug claws in my crotch.
I exclaimed many words best not written down here.
Thank you readers and friends for another good year.
Friday has started making a Twitter List of feeds that make me smile, laugh, or just generally improve my day.
ETA: Before anyone responds, I want to be clear that this is not a request for reassurance or cookies or any of that. I’m an adult, fully capable of buying or making my own damn cookies. Thanks.
A week or so back, a group working to end violence against women named me as one of sixteen male role models helping to fight violence against women. In an unrelated situation a few days later, someone on Facebook told me she would no longer support my work, and that I might claim to be an ally, but I’m not.
I can’t say with 100% certainty, but I don’t think I’ve ever claimed to be an Ally. I don’t think it’s my place to proclaim myself an ally to women, or to victims of sexual violence, or to the LGBTQ community, and so on.
It was a little odd having these two things occur so close together, and there was a bit of cognitive dissonance for a little while, like I was Schrödinger‘s Ally or something.
I’ll be honest, this whole Ally thing confuses me a little. As shorthand for “this is a person who seems to be trying to understand and support me,” it makes sense. But it feels like we’ve turned it into the ultimate cookie, or a badge to flash around to prove you’re one of the Good Guys. Or maybe a badge-shaped cookie, I don’t know.
So you end up with people trying to deflect criticism by flashing their cookie badge. “Don’t you realize I’m your Ally? It says so right here in white frosting!” Or they turn it into a flounce, throwing their cookie on the ground and declaring, “You have lost a Valuable Ally this day!”
What a waste of a cookie…
(As I’m writing this, I’m starting to like the idea of Schrödinger‘s Ally as shorthand for that person who seems to say the right things, but you’re not sure whether they genuinely support you or if they’re only in it for the cookies. That’s a bit of a tangent though, so I’ll save it for later.)
I can understand that when you’re in a marginalized group fighting for dignity and equality and survival, it’s vital to know who your allies are and who you can trust to have your back. And the term is useful shorthand for articles like “How to be a good male ally” and such.
The whole concept still feels weird to me. Maybe it’s the idea that “ally” is a noun. A concrete, black-and-white thing you either are or aren’t, which gets back to my point about people simultaneously calling me an ally and not an ally…
Dissonance resolved: they’re both right, of course.
Because, linguistics aside, ally isn’t a noun; it’s a verb. It’s action. A process. It’s listening and learning to do better. It’s learning to offer support in ways that are helpful. It’s learning that it’s not all about you.
That gets to the heart of a lot of my discomfort. The moment you stand up and wave your cookie-badge and declare yourself An Ally, it becomes about you. Which not only misses the point, it turns 180 degrees and jumps to hyperspeed to get as far from the point as possible.
And on that note, I’m gonna go see if we have any cookies…
Friday apologizes for missing last week’s post, and promises it won’t happen again until the next time it does.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Yes, we know.”
“That’s why they believed they could get away with it.”
“That’s why victims hesitated to come forward.”
“That’s why men are more worried about the rare false accusation than the epidemic of harassment.”
“That’s why women didn’t talk to you about what they experienced.”
“That’s why we’re seeing such a logjam of long-term, entrenched harassers.”
“Why are you getting so angry?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“I just hate seeing so many careers ruined.”
“Whose careers? The perpetrators or the victims?”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s because you didn’t listen.”
“That’s because you looked away.”
“That’s because you treated it as a joke.”
“Now that you know, what will you do differently?”