Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Amazing Representation, Brought to You by... Network Television?

So, normally when I talk about a show or a movie or a book or what have you, I try to keep it to sci-fi or fantasy. Maybe horror, paranormal, wuxia, bizarro. That’s for hopefully pretty obvious reasons. I’ll never deny the power that sci-fi and fantasy has to bring people together (Perhaps I’ll go in depth on that at a later date.).

But not today. As much as I’m for SF/F, I’m also for diversity a hundred times more. With my work, that tends to cover sexual diversity, gender diversity, and ethnic diversity more than anything else. That’s my schtick, so to speak, and it’s important, and there’s a lot of room to work with in there. But there’s so much more that can be done than that. There’s religious diversity and socioeconomic diversity. But I’ve even touch on that. A lot of people have.

I want to talk about something I’ve never seen anybody have (Pardon my French) the BALLS to cover before. I certainly don’t have them. I’m sure it’s been done, but I would bet not often. And I have to hand it to Jenna Bans for not only taking this plunge, but for hitting it out of the fucking stratosphere.

I want to talk about The Family. So, if you haven’t seen it or haven’t caught up, this is your warning: Spoilers. All the spoilers. Well, maybe not all of them, but definitely spoilers. So… turn back now if you don’t want any, basically.

(And seriously, you really should watch this show. Because fucking Christ on a bike is it a head trip.)

All right, so if you’re here I’m just going to assume you’ve seen it or you don’t care if the show gets spoiled. I take no further responsibility. If you have seen the show, you can probably figure out where I’m going already: Hank Asher. He’s easily the most likable (Read: only likable) character in the entire show. He’s the moral center of the whole program.

He’s also a pedophile. And before you run for the hills, I want you to note that A: I didn’t say child molester and B: there’s a difference. There is a child molester in this show. That’s Doug Anderson, the man who kidnapped the boy who’s the center of the entire plot and kept him locked up to molest him at his leisure (Did I mention the adult themes in this show? No? Oh… well, there are adult themes.).

But Hank Asher is a pedophile. He doesn’t molest children. He’s attracted to them, and the entire show, you see him fighting against his urges at every last second. He admits to kidnapping a boy and gets sent to prison, because he knows he won’t be able to hurt anyone there. He voluntarily receives hormone injections to curb his desires. He’d rather not feel any arousal than risk doing something he knows is wrong. And sure, he has some genuinely creepy moments. He has a box of children’s toys under his bed. But you see how he got at least one of them, and can extrapolate that it’s how he got all of them. A boy left it behind. He never touched the boy, but he kept that one thing… and that’s as illegal as it gets. Technically, I think that’s theft, but it’s really just an accident that happens sometimes.

Hank Asher knows he has these urges, but he works to protect children… from himself. At least once, he attempts suicide, because that's the most complete solution to the problem. A boy comes to see his mother, a piano teacher, and he refuses to open the door. He tells another boy that he can’t come over there anymore. And in the finale, we see a brilliant scene. He almost does give in. We’ve all been there with something we know is not right, although I’m guessing to a lesser degree for most people. A twelve year old boy asks for a ride home after he takes a bad crash on his skateboard. Hank tries to resist, but he ends up giving in… and giving a false name. As the viewer, your heart just jumps up into your throat. You’ve watched him resist and fight the entire season, and he’s skirting so close to it, now. He’s missed his latest hormone injection. He’s capable of this, and his desires are back.

And you cut to them in front of the boy’s house. He’s given him a ride home, and he’s obviously having some issues. He’s saying more and more insistently that the boy needs to get out of the car. Starts yelling. The door is sticking. Tension is building. Hank’s just not holding it together, and all you can think is “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

And he reaches across and opens the door for the boy, yells at him to get out. And that’s it. He stays in control. And I don’t think that’s a narrative we see often enough. Whether or not you like the plot, I think The Family is worth watching just for the character study that is Hank Asher. You initially think he’s super-creepy, but it’s not long before you start really feeling sorry for him. And then you start siding with him, out of everyone on the show. By the end, he was the character I was most invested in.

While this family is dealing with stupid shit, like the upcoming election, or an affair, Hank’s the only one who notices that their son is sneaking out in the middle of the night. And it gives you one of my second favorite lines from this whole show. “Your head’s so buried in the sand, you need the friendly neighborhood pedophile to come over and tell you that you should be a better mother and keep an eye on your son.” And he tells this family even after they filed a restraining order against him, and have just generally been vile people. After it came out that Hank Asher didn’t even commit the crime in the first place.

But I think my favorite bit is what really sums up why I love this show so much, and more specifically the way Hank Asher is handled. If I could track down a clip, I’d put it here. I’ll link the whole episode if you’re interested. Just jump to 28:48. But I’ll transcribe the important little bit (It’s of note that John is the boy’s father.).

Hank: Have you ever wanted to have sex with a woman who didn’t want to have sex with you?
John: That’s rape.
Hank: Yes.
John: That’s wrong.
Hank: Yes.
John: I’d never do it.
Hank: Neither would I.

That’s why this show wins, in my opinion. In our society, we conflate child molesters with pedophiles. And yes, this is a touchy subject, but that’s why it doesn’t get talked about, and that’s why I can’t do anything but commend this show for the way it handled Hank. It’s a big fuck you to the way things “Should be.” It said, “We’re going to make you like this pedophile way more than the rest of the people on this show.” And then it delivered.

If you want to see a character done right, I can’t recommend The Family enough. And you can watch the whole run of the show for free (And legally.) on ABC’s website. So yay!


Saturday, May 14, 2016

Release: The Elf's Apprentice by Frances Pauli

She's back again! You all know by now how much I love Frances Pauli's books. Well, there's another one to add to my shelf, and maybe you'l add it to yours too: The Elf's Apprentice. Book One of the Love and Magic Series. I got the privilege to read this one early, and it's an incredible book.

A sorcerer, a rebel, and a whole kingdom under fire...

As the sorcerer's new apprentice, Kia's fiery temper is bound to get her into hot water. Evander is obnoxious, arrogant, intolerable, and undeniably the most beautiful elf alive. Even if she passes his relentless testing, working at his side just might kill her. 

Worse, her master has powerful enemies inside the palace. When their attacks turn personal, the sorcerer's apprentice becomes the perfect bait in a deadly trap set to destroy the man who has become far more than just her boss. 

Two lost souls must defend their world, but even if they save the kingdom, they risk losing each other forever.

"That's a human," he said. "You're getting desperate."

"She's very good. The best I've seen yet." Lyssia's tone brooked no argument. She got one, just the same.

"And you're the expert on apprentices, I suppose. Perhaps you should stay up here and do my work, and I'll attend to your throne?"

"I am not unskilled, you'll remember."

"And I'm no diplomat." Evander sniffed and stepped away from the wall.

Kia forgot for a moment that they were debating her. The elf sorcerer moved like honey flowing. Each gesture was measured, considered, and then executed with the typical elvin grace, but melded with the deliberate intellect of a master sorcerer. He peered around Lyssia at her, and his eyes held her entranced, frozen as if they truly could cast her in ice.

"I don't need an apprentice," he said.

Kia felt the rejection like a slap that time. This room, this opportunity dangled in front of her, and he meant to snatch it away again without even giving her a chance to try for it.

"Yes you do," Lyssia said. "If for no other reason than to manage this disaster."

"What disaster?" Evander released Kia from the grip of his attention and turned the full chill of his mood on the princess. "This room is exactly in the order I prefer it."

"That book is on fire."

"What?" He spun that time, lost a fraction of his composure in the realization that one of his braziers had, in fact, caught a book on fire. His arms waved in an arc. The sleeves of the heavy red robe he wore billowed, and the flames died. A single line of smoke rippled up to the rafters. "Bother."

"You see?" Lyssia crossed her arms again and winked at Kia over her shoulder.

As if they'd won, Kia thought, but she very much doubted that they had. The way she saw it, they'd only irritated the beast.

"You bring me imbeciles," Evander complained. He kept his back to them now, as if they weren't worth noting, and he moved to the nearest table and adjusted a stack of papers. "Idiots. I can't work with them."

"You haven't even tried."

"What? This one? What does it matter? The last seven were morons. Why should this one be any better?"

"You will test her." Lyssia's tone shifted now. He'd pissed her off good, and Kia held in place when the princess marched toward the sorcerer. "You'll do it, Evander, or I'll schedule a full month of diplomatic dinners."

"You wouldn't." He stopped fiddling with the papers and stared up at the wafting smoke.

"Try me." Lyssia stood taller and stuck out her chin.

They left Kia to herself, standing alone inside the door, forgotten except as a topic for their argument. She was unwanted, invisible, and he'd never, ever let her work here.

"She probably can't even cast a column of fire."

"You are the most difficult man..."

Kia focused on the slate tiles in the center of the room. Don't speak unless addressed, Lyssia had said. Well, Evander was not about to address her, and casting magic wasn't exactly speaking. She drew the symbols in her mind, pulled the ambient magic out of the ether and felt the full weight of the room's history in that flow. Sparky wild magic with a mind of its own.

It tasted of him, of charcoal and orneriness.

She drew the power into her skin, molded it with her intent backed by the magic of the sigils she'd selected. Then, she threw it outward, anchoring the package with a final symbol, to a tile in the middle of the floor.

Flame lifted from the square of stone. It rippled upward. An eruption of fire rising in a dense, dancing column. It burned under her command and made a pillar seven feet high before flickering back on itself like a fountain. Kia held the spell, kept the fire alive and waited for anyone to notice what she'd done.

"....perfectly capable of maintaining my own affairs. What is that?"

It didn't take long.

"I believe it's a column of fire," Lyssia answered. She put a little triumph in her voice, but the look she cast at Kia held a warning.

Be still, it said. Don't push your luck.

"Barely." Evander sniffed, pulled himself out of his argument with Lyssia, and focused instead on Kia. The eyes. This time when they found her they had a darker edge. "So the monkey can do a trick, I see."

Kia held the spell together, but only just. The flames at the top shot a few sparks, sputtered as if a gust of wind had snatched at them. Evander seized up that weakness. He meant to force her to lose concentration, to distract her into failure. But at least he was actually testing her now.

"Can your pet manipulate it?" He still didn't address her directly either. He kept his words for Lyssia, but he unleashed a fully self-satisfied smile upon Kia. "Can she change its form?"

Kia focused. She ignored the sorcerer, even when he stalked closer to her. The column tried to resist her, and she couldn't help but suspect his hand in that. Still, she drew the lines in her mind, imagined the form she wanted, and pressed her full desire to succeed into the weaving.

The column shifted. It branched and flowered, transforming into a burning tree in full bloom.

Evander harrumphed and stepped directly in front of her. He leaned in, and her view of the column was replaced by a fall of white hair and a pair of eyes that darkened like gems, glinting, daring her to keep going.

"Make it taller."

Kia stretched the tree another three feet.

"Now shorter."

She cut it down to half size.

"Hotter," he said.

Kia sucked in a breath and stared directly into the blue of his eyes. The fire tree blazed white hot, but Evander didn't even turn to look.

"Passable." His lips moved like honey too, making soft graceful lines. "Now make it fly."

Saturday, May 7, 2016

All Aboard Flight 442 to Way-Too-Deep-Ville

I’m going to open up to you. I feel like I can trust you. You have a kind face (Flashbacks to the episode of I Love Lucy where they do “Slowly I Turn…”).

But in all seriousness: if you don’t want to get a little deep, go ahead and move on to one of my old blog posts, or one of my books. Or watch a cat on Youtube. Because today, I want to talk about the Depression, the Unfriendly Ghost (Note to self: write a children’s book about depression, maybe… probably not. But think about it.).

Okay, if you’ve made it this far, I figure you’ve made your choice and you understand what you’re getting yourself into. If at any point you wish to evacuate, emergency exits are located toward the back of the plane. I think we stocked the parachutes back up after last time. I take no responsibility if not.

Right. Putting it off. Well, it’s not fun to talk about. But I think it’s important. Especially if we run on the assumption that a writer will have some things in common with their readers, I feel like I have to say something. And I have to say something for myself. I like to be honest with you guys, and it’s time to unload a double-barreled shotgun full of honesty.

I’ve dealt with depression and anxiety since I was in middle school. It wasn’t because of some singular traumatic event or anything like that. It rarely is, at least as far as the people I’ve talked to. Not to say never. I don’t discount anyone’s experience with this kind of thing, because that’s annoying as fuck and totally not my place.

But yeah. I’ve dealt with these issues for quite some time, now. And you learn how to work around them in a lot of ways. I wasn’t always so good at it, obviously. I still have cutting scars on my wrists, though they’re mostly faded. It’s been a while, which is its own victory, for me.

The thoughts don’t go away. I’d like to be able to tell you that I haven’t considered self-harm in years. That would make me feel more accomplished. And up until a few weeks ago, I could have said exactly that. But it snuck up on me. That’s what no one tells you about depression. It sneaks up on you. If you could see it coming, you could maybe try to head it off at the pass. It probably wouldn’t work, but you could try (I should note, though, this is only my experience. It could very well be different for someone else.).

I don’t know if it was before Norwescon, during Norwescon, or after Norwescon. What I do remember is feeling really edgy when I was actually at the con. It was toward the end of the con, so I figured it was just me dealing with way too many people without a break. Which I went in expecting. And I was away from home longer thanks to the weather (Had to go over the Cascade Mountains to get between there and here, and it snowed. Like, it snowed a foot in a few hours.).

The very first thing I did when I got back home was completely clean my room. Clear off the floor, wash all my bedding. Make it look nice and neat and comfortable. And then I holed up in there for three weeks without even realizing it

If you’ve been through depression, you might very well be nodding your head. It’s not an uncommon story. It’s hard to do anything when you’re in the middle of it, even just getting up and leaving the room. I did it to eat and that’s about it. I didn’t even work during that span. I couldn’t. I watched Youtube videos for hours, slept a lot… and that was all. That is one good luxury of working from home. I was able to. I don’t know if it was helpful or harmful, mind you. Maybe if I had to get up and go to work, it would have been better. Or it would have been worse. I can’t say. That’s not how things went.

So about the three week mark, I realized it had been three weeks, and that I hadn’t actually seen, like, sunlight, in that long. Certainly not people. I wasn’t online. I just… wasn’t. And it’s one of the scariest things when you know that you’re feeling this way, and you know that it’s entirely irrational, but you can’t stop it. Because that’s what happens. You’re fully aware that this is ridiculous and without cause, but it still sits on your chest so you can’t get out from under it.

Even after I realized what was happening, it’s taken me several more weeks to fully pull myself free from the Swamp of Sadness (Stupid horse…). Part of that’s because some things just really have fallen badly (Found a tumor on the dog, for one.), and part of it’s because I was so damned deep into it again, without even realizing it. It’s super easy to fall into a hole. It’s a lot harder to scrabble your way out.

Why share what is objectively not a happy story? It’s not for sympathy or anything like that. I wanted to put it out there, because I think that sometimes, we need to know that other people are going through it, too. I think that’s one of the most comforting things that can happen. Knowing that you’re not the only one who has to decipher this mess. And you can know it intellectually, look at the statistics and everything, but maybe one thing that a specific person says will actually click. Maybe me. Maybe Chuck Wendig. Maybe someone else. Maybe not an author, but a celebrity. Maybe a blogger with one follower who you’ll never read again. But they aid exactly what you needed to hear to know that you aren’t alone.

It helps, it really does. And while I don’t assume that I’m going to be that one for anyone out there, if there’s a chance that I might? I can’t sit here and not talk about it. Because depression is a real problem, no matter what anyone else thinks. It’s not a matter of just cheering or just doing something. It’s pulling teeth until you get yourself out of it, and maybe you don’t. That’s the worst part, always, is “Maybe you don’t.” or your friend doesn’t. Or your favorite cousin. Your aunt. Your father. Whoever. It’s scary. Depression is scary. It’s not frightening or terrifying or any of that. It’s baseline, down deep in the core of you, scary. No better word for it in my opinion. Just scary. No pretenses or trying to filter it or gussy it up.

It’s scary, and I get it, and if you do happen to be reading this and you’re there right now, I hope it helps. And I hope you can wriggle away from it. And I hope you have someone to talk to, when you’re ready for that. And if not, talk to me. I’ll answer.

Deepness is over and the plane is landing. So tata for now.


Saturday, April 16, 2016

Book Recommendation - Sacre Bleu by Christoper Moore

Now, if any of you are following me on Goodreads (What?You’re not? Well, go! I’ll wait here.), you may have noticed my love for Christopher Moore. If you’ve never read his books, I highly recommend them. I won’t lie and say that they’re, like, child appropriate… because they’re not. But they’re funny as all hell. Irreverent, sometimes sacrilegious (Here’s looking at you, Lamb.), and very well-written.

But today, I want to talk about another books entirely. The black sheep of the Christopher Moore family of books.

Sacrè Bleu.

When this book came out, I was so fucking excited. Not only was it Christopher Moore, it was Impressionist Era France. Monet, Morisot, Toulouse-Lautrec, Cezanne, Pissarro, Manet. I was hooked before I even read a single word. And, although we haven’t actually started the review yet, I’m going to spoil the ending – I love it. It’s not my favorite Moore book, but it’s right up there (It would take a lot to unseat Lamb from the top spot.).

Unfortunately, that’s not a popular opinion. Moore fans were sort of unhappy with the book, in general. And admittedly, it’s aa departure from his other books. It’s not just humor. It’s intellectualism. It’s historical fantasy. But it apparently missed the mark for a lot of his audience, which saddens me. This is a book I whip out for people to read all the time. And since I just finished it again and it’s fresh in my mind… I figured there wasn’t any better time to take a proper look at it. Maybe you’ll decide that you love it, too.

The Good: I can’t actually just say everything, as much as I’d like to. There’s a lot of good in this book. It’s got Moore’s normal wit, it’s all about art and painting and creating. That’s enough to sell me on it right there, but there’s also romance. There’s debauchery. There’s historical aspects to it. And there’s actual scans of famous Impressionist Era paintings. Not just the big ones, either, which is a nice change of pace.

But more than that, even, the historical bits work into the fantasy elements perfectly. It’s not easy to do even a few times, but he manages to seamlessly fit some pretty powerful magic (Time travel, immortality, that sort of thing) into the already strange world of art. Now, it’s more complex than all this, but the basis of the magic is that ultramarine blue, (The Sacrè Bleu of the title) can distort the flow of time. It’s used to explain a lot of the oddities you see with artists, but my favorite is probably with Claude Monet. When his first wife died, he painted her to capture the color blue she was turning. Yeah. That part’s not fictional. You can see the painting. Camille Monet on her deathbed.

But in the book, it’s a little less creepy, and more desperate. He uses the blue. He tries to stop her from dying by painting, tries to twist time with this magical blue paint so that she doesn’t have to die. And both in real life and in the book, painting that tore him up.

It’s that kind of attention to detail, digging out those things and putting them together, finding everything to do with blue in that era and that location. The amount of work and devotion is staggering by itself, but the fact that it works? That’s where the real magic comes from.

And, as much as I love ebooks, I have to say to get this one in print. It’s a piece of art in itself. All the text is blue, which tickles the shit out of me, and the pages are thick and ragged. To me, that heightens the experience of reading the book.

The Bad: There’s not much I can criticize in this book, but one thing does stand out, if I’m being nitpicky. If you’re looking for a super-intense book, this isn’t the one for you. It’s going to take its time, and there are going to be parts where you could be okay putting it down. It’s not a thrilling ride. It’s a meander through the Louvre, which is enjoyable in its own right.

The Ugly: I had a really hard time coming up with anything to put in the ugly category on this book. So this is a little bit of a stretch to call it ugly. There’s a little bit of a disconnect between the first and second halves. Really, it’s just about the marked difference between the plot before and after the midpoint, but it can feel a little inconsistent. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. There’s literally nothing ugly in this entire book, in spite of what some reviews might say. If you can find this book, grab it quickly and love on it. It won’t do you wrong.


Monday, March 21, 2016

On Pokemon and Fandom and the Genre Ghetto

So, in the last blog post, I promised I’d talk about Pokemon. And I’m happy to oblige on that front, because it’s my weakness. It’s the only “real video game” I still play, and I have since I was a kid. I was raised firmly in the arms of the Pokemon Generation. I watched the show, played the games. I even had the board game and the novelizations. One of the first things I remember saving up for was a poster that showed the first 150 Pokemon. I sat and stared at that and memorized the entire thing, too (Don’t ask me to recite it, now. It’s been too long.).

With the next main series games coming out this year, I figured this was the time to talk about it if I was ever going to. I won’t go into my journey with it or how I got into it, what changes I want to see in these games, theories about the way this world works. That’s all been covered by hundreds of other fans, and so much more than that, so you can turn to them if you want all that. I wouldn’t do nearly as good of a job at it.

If you’re this far into my blog, and you somehow haven’t noticed, I’m a writer. I’m also a massive geek. But the thing is, some of this geeky stuff people like me love so much moves beyond being just this niche thing. I’m looking at Harry Potter and Star Wars and things like that. There are plenty of books and movies about wars in space or magical schools, but they mostly stayed firmly settled in SF/F fandom. In the same way, Pokemon has moved far ahead of other similar works. These are things that are objectively geeky and nerdy. Space and wizards and dragons and mice with electric cheek pouches.

It’s the kind of thing I like to bring up to people when I get into conversations about nerds and geek and SF/F culture. I’ve said for years that everyone is actually a nerd. Everyone who liked The Hunger Games or Harry Potter or The Magic Treehouse. They’re all undeniably SF/F, but they become accepted for one reason or another. I think there’s good and there’s bad in situations like this. I’ve spent a lot of time considering this type of thing, and a lot of time drenched in fandom. So here’s my take on Pokemon in particular. The basic ideas apply to anything that breaks out into popular culture, but I’m going to focus on this one franchise this time through.

The Good: The clear good that Pokemon brings is togetherness. It’s for everyone, and the Nintendo Direct video where they announced really focused on that. It showed all different types of people playing and enjoying Pokemon together. When something breaks out of just being for SF/F fans, it opens the doors a little more. More people getting into SF/F, and possibly moving past their one thing. It gives people a common baseline to discuss things. Google “Games Like Pokemon” and you’ll see that. Common language, common thoughts. Even people who know nothing about gaming or SF/F or anything like that can get an idea of something from the baseline of “Pokemon,” because it’s a part of the culture at large, now. And that’s beautiful and brings people together, which we can always do good things with.

The Bad: Now, this is no fault of the Pokemon franchise. This is a cultural thing, instead, but it’s something that definitely applies to the franchise. SF/F writers are all very familiar with what’s known as the “Genre Ghetto.” Essentially, there are real books, and there’s sci-fi and fantasy. That’s a problem in itself, but that’s not the part I’m covering here. The thing is, when an SF/F book does well and breaks out, suddenly the people in power aren’t as willing to mark it as science fiction or fantasy. Look at Fahrenheit 451. It’s a sci-fi classic… but it’s bundled in with literary fiction.

That’s the bad. A game like Pokemon breaks out of being “just for nerds” and is suddenly held up as a standard of video gaming. This problem isn’t as prevalent in gaming, from what I can tell, but it’s there. Games are already for nerds, but some games are particularly nerdy (Starcraft, anyone?). And of course, the people who really geek out about the popular things are always going to somehow be seen as lesser. In Pokemon, those are the people who breed for IVs and EV train, but also the people who compete in the battles and write out team strategies and that sort of thing. They’re the nerds that casual fans don’t want to talk about as much, because they’re “too into it.”

I love Pokemon. I always will, and the good it does is amazing. Seriously. I about shit myself when I found out they were doing Gen 7 (Or 6.5 or whatever you want to call it.). 20 years of Pokemon. 20 years. That’s most of my life by a huge margin. But I think it works to expose some of the issues that genre artists and fans see and, as I said, it’s a widely-accepted piece of work. It’s a baseline people can work from.

I’m a small enough fish that I’m pretty sure that most people who are looking at this are already geeky in the more “traditional” sense. They get it. But I like to draw attention to this aspect of geekery, because I think it’s important. It’s important for the SF/F fandom to acknowledge that this happens, and it’s important for people who don’t see themselves that way to maybe take a peek at this side of the equation.

Because fandom is for everyone.


Tuesday, March 8, 2016

This Message is Brought to You by... Someone Else

Today, I’m going to talk very little. I know, I know. Words are kind of my thing. I’m an author, for fuck’s sake. But I’m going to step aside after a bit and just let you watch something. Hopefully, it’ll touch you the same way it touched me.

So, as a bit of backstory: I have a bad habit when it comes to Youtube. I know the first step is admitting I have a problem, but I don’t know the other twelve. All right, it’s not that serious (yet). I still manage to work. it popped up when the insomnia did. I was too tired to work, which would have been the ideal usage for all that time. But no. I wouldn’t have produced anything of actual quality. So I took to watching Youtube videos, and I eventually stumbled over to the gamers of Youtube.

I would spend hours and hours just watching other people play video games. I don’t play that much anymore. The occasional foray into Pokemon (More on that in a later blog post!) or a silly online game. I sometimes play solitaire, and I judiciously care for my dragons in Dragon City. But in all, that’s maybe an hour of my time a day, and if I miss it, oh well. I don’t Game with a capital G anymore. It’s just not something that stuck with me the way it did for other people I know.

Now, I was failing to sleep one night, so I thought I’d put on a video. Just something simple in the hopes that it would lull me off into dreamland. I saw that jacksepticeye had put up a new one, and that it was massively long. About 2 hours. I didn’t think I’d make it through the whole thing, but I know that long gaming videos are normally slower paced, so I wouldn’t be invested. Take a couple melatonin tablets, turn it on, and shut it off when my eyelids started to droop. Not the first time I’d done the exact same thing.

Cut to two hours later when I’m still wide awake. I’ve got chills, and I’m just staring at the screen and reading theories about this game I’ve never actually played, because it dug under my skin that much. Dug in and really took hold of me.

That game was The Beginner’s Guide.

I won’t tell you what happens exactly. You should experience it. But I want to include this little end note all the same, just to convince you to watch this, or at least click the little Watch Later button in the corner (Which has become my best friend, of late. Yes, I have no social life.). It’s about the creative process. It’s emotional. It’s about recovering from success rather than recovering from failure. It’s unique and wonderful (Did I mention the chills? I got chills.).

If you do anything creative at all, or you even want to, or you just want to give up two hours for a moving experience, I recommend it. I sometimes put it on while I write, which is why I’ve seen it five or six times since it came out. It’s that good.

In fact, I think I’ll watch it again while I work today.


Tuesday, February 16, 2016

RadCon 7 Wrap Up!

Well, I’ve mostly recovered from RadCon 7, so I guess it’s time for another round through the yearly wrap-up. Strap yourselves in for this one, because this con was different.

Wait, though. Before we get into this, I’m going to answer the question some of you might have. Last year, I posted about RadCon 6C… so why is this one 7? The short answer is that it’s the leap year, but that never helps anyone. It took me years to understand this numbering system. Basically, they start a new number every leap year, and then go three letters, and… it’s weird. But this was the 25th anniversary of the first RadCon, and it’s still going strong. In my opinion, it’s stronger than ever.

I got in Friday… and then there was that particular insanity. I was going from 7:45 until 1 in the morning Saturday. School visits to try and encourage the children (I’m hoping some of them listened, at least.), working in the room selling books, talking about the rabid puppies/sad puppies/happy kittens (Google it if you’re interested.), and then Rocky Horror Picture Show. We had a huge turnout this year. Even with three times as many goodie bags, we were short, and the mess was beautiful… until cleanup, but that’s sort of the point. For all of the background issues that popped up, I think it was great. I had people approaching me after the show thanking me, saying they only stayed because it was so entertaining. Really not trying to brag, but it’s always nice when the audience has a good time of it.

Saturday was talking about “Adult Stuff” in kids’ books. That one was recorded and should be going up online if you want to hear it. I’ll of course be linking to it and crowing a little when I find out it went up, so stay tuned for that. Unfortunately, my partying took a little bit of a hit just because I was so damned tired. I did stick around long enough to finally try RadCon’s signature drink, Toxic Waste. Mind you, I didn’t find out it was, like, 150 proof until after I chugged a glass, but now I know. I also – and I can’t believe I’m seriously typing this – tried the buttstallion shot. Another very dangerous drink, because it tastes too damn good.

I mean it. Buttstallion. They even give you a ribbon if you shout the name. I may or may not have shouted buttstallion in the middle of a crowded room in order to get a strip of pink fabric. I plead the fifth.

Basically, I was tired, but it was still the Best Con Ever. My little crew of authorial friends and I have been saying that so much since the very first day. It’s a little ridiculous, but it’s completely true. I love RadCon as it is, but this one was much more peaceful, and much more financially successful for me. More sales than any other year, and a very different vibe. I’ve made some personal changes, and they’ve made me a lot happier. And it showed.

I don’t have any great brilliance I can pass down to you, unfortunately, other than this: go to RadCon. If there’s any way you can possibly make it up to Pasco for President’s Day Weekend, you should do it. There are bigger cons in the area, older cons, more niche cons, but in my opinion, there still isn’t a better con in the area. I love it, and I love the people who put it on… with a special shoutout to Tina the Baking Queen for making that delicious fucking Chicken Cordon Bleu Soup. I’ve linked it because it’s amazing. I don’t do soup very much, but I’ll eat this all day.

Okay, enough soup talk. Go to RadCon, even if there isn’t soup. It’s always wonderful. Plus next year we’ll have Todd McCaffrey! Go Todd McCaffrey!