Personal

40

Hullo Mur.

Hullo, 40.

You’re looking awfully reserved, Mur. What’s up?

I just feel like it’s a Big Day. And I don’t have a lot planned. Should this be big? I mean, I’m not freaking out over 40, and I’m only comparing it to my pediatrician’s 40th birthday party a little bit.

…you lost me.

Oh, my mom was a nurse, and her boss was my doctor. So I got to be in the exam room with the doc, and then in the break room with the staff. And his 40th birthday party was boob-themed. Boob cake, boob mug, boob buzzer that his 4 year old son kept pushing the nipple to make it go bzzz. It was the 80’s, so it was OK. I felt slightly uncomfortable, but am pretty sure no one is getting me boobs for my birthday.

Boob buzzer?

Totally. Bright red nipple, white boob. BUZZZZZ!

We will move on from this.

Probably for the best.

So what’s going on with you? Most people, when they come to me, have pretty big issues. What’s going on, besides the, ah, boob buzzer?

Well, I’ve achieved things, my “pre-40” bucket list, so to speak. I got a book on the shelves, I became a mom, the marriage is still awesome, and I’ve been nominated for two awards.

Hang on. 39 just passed me a note. “Yes, and please vote for Mur for the Campbell Award, voting closes July 31.

Seriously, Mur? You need to validate yourself with pleas for award votes? You don’t think your skill is enough to garner said awards? 

I’m learning the balance of publishing and the value of making people aware that a) you’re there, and b) you are nominated. Beyond that, they can vote however they want. I just want them to give me a thought. Or two.

Fuck that. You want the award.

More than I want air, yes. But since I lost it last year, I know I can survive losing it. They apparently don’t take the losers and kill them and pack them in salt to preserve them. This is a relief. And as a good friend recently told me, “we don’t write for that.”

Awards. Not avoiding salt packing. Although I feel like we do that every day. If I saw some asshole coming up the street with a knife in one hand and a box of Morton’s in the other, I’d run like hell.

Also, I’m pretty sure after 40 seconds or so of depriving me of air, if you gave me the choice between Campbell award and air, I’d choose air.

Exaggeration for effect. I get it. So you’re not freaked by me, but you did have a list of things you wanted before you met me. To me, that says I do have some semblance of meaning for you.

Well sure. Humans definitely like the round numbers. Someone doing something for 37 years is impressive, but OMG 40. You get presents at 40 years of doing anything. People expect you to grow up. Be responsible. Stuff. So I’m trying to think of what the next 40 years will hold.

That will bring you up to 80. Dude, she is a SHE WOLF. You do NOT want to meet 80 until you’re ready.

I won’t be ready for another 40 years. But I can handle her when I get there.

So, what now? 39 tells me you’re slightly obsessive and take negative comments to heart too much. You want SO HARD and your defeats are devastating.

Yeah, but I bounce back. I keep going. Can I get props for that?

Mur, 40 year old people don’t say “props.”

FUCK YOU I WILL SAY PROPS IF I WANT. PROPS. PEEPS. STREET CRED.

You’re embarrassing me.

I am tired of embarrassing people. If you can’t figure out what I’m about at this point, then don’t even try. I figure by the time you reach 40, you’re set. You’re done with the maturing, and if changes are going to be made of your personality, it will fucking take the ghost of your dead BFF plus three of his homies to change you. Otherwise, take me as I am.

Ghosts, man.

This is me. I write. I have ambitions. I sometimes stumble and let envy or discouragement stand in my way, but not for long. I say silly things as a joke, and if it doesn’t land, I move on. I’m me, and that’s OK. Mess me up, and we have a problem, apologize and we’re cool. Do you really not want to be my buddy, 40? Cause if you don’t, well. I don’t even know.

I do. I like people who know who they are at this point. Some don’t. Some dude in Canada did a “hey y’all, watch this” move, and got international attention, but he begged for reporters to mention the fact that he ACHIEVED HIS GOAL. Doesn’t matter what the world thinks, as long as his buddies think he’s cool, he’s happy. This dude is 47. 

47 came to me the other day in tears. Yo was saying that said dude’s mother had the luxury of hanging up on him and telling him he was an idiot (not in that order, I guess) but that yo would have to keep nurturing the dude for months. Yo can’t wait till he turns 48 and it’s not yo’s problem anymore.

I promise I will not drink 8 beers and swim to another country. I don’t drink that much beer, and besides, I don’t swim well. Also, fucking stupid thing to do. Also also, “yo?”

Gender neutral pronoun. We’re genderless years, so it’s appropriate. It’s catching on in Baltimore.

Oh. Cool. Didn’t you say 80 is a she-wolf, though?

Shut up. She-wolf is much cooler than “scary anthropomorphic year representing mortality and old people diapers.”

Fair enough.

So the moral of this story is?

You can’t trust the system?

No.

Um. Be confident in who I am?

Bingo.

PS- It’s also Matt Fn Wallace’s birthday. Go tell him something nice and birthdaylike. He’s a whippersnapper. You can tell him I said that.

Personal, Podcasts, Projects, Travel

Stonecoast, Manic Mondays, and more

OK, there’s no more. I just like things in threes.

  • I’m heading to Stonecoast today, which means I’ll be away from social media, blogging, and podcasting for over ten days. Shambling Guide eps will go up, and I’ll try to get some completed ISBWs up.
  • Also, I recently guest hosted one of my favorite podcasts, Manic Mondays, a short funny music podcast. (It’s NSFW.) My DJ dreams continue, and Clear Channel’s THE MAN can’t stop me!
  • In two weeks I turn 40. Yikes.
Books, Projects

Bundle of Holding +3 is out!

You may have remembered in the past I had work in the Bundle of Holding, where you could get fiction written by RPG writers, and now I’m in the next one! If you’ve ever been interested in my Heaven series in ebook form, and haven’t picked it up, you can do it now, alongside a lot of other great books by authors such as Matt Forbeck and Gareth-Michael Skarka. Part of your payment will also go to charity, this time benefitting the EFF or PEN International.

Learn more at the Bundle of Holding!

Personal

Through Dangers Untold and Hardships Unnumbered

I’ll just lay it out. I’m a coward. I’m an angry feminist and the latest bullshit with members of SFWA trying to silence people who stand up against sexism and racism makes me very angry. But I’m also a coward. I’m not good at arguing and I don’t thrive on debate. I feared the letters, the rape threats, the abuse. I have been apologizing to the women who came before me, and fought before me. I felt that I would have made a shitty suffragette, I’d be something closer to a suffrascooter. But I kept silent.

I’m finally done. I had an epiphany this morning and decided to finally talk about it. And I’m going to do it in the spirit of Jim Henson’s The Labyrinth. Also taking a bit of creative license, since the movie wasn’t about racism and sexism.

But it was about power.

SO! This is young Mur, learning about SFF, learning what the Hugo was. Wanting to be part of it, before I even knew what fandom was, what conventions were. I had the dream.

Fantasymarchen

After all, science fiction and fantasy is the genre of inclusiveness, right? The genre of the ostracized nerds, and since we know what it’s like to be ostracized, we welcome anyone!

labyrinth-o

I was even feeling good about the state of the genre. In the past few years, more women and more people of color were making the ballots. People like Paul Cornell started to fight for gender parity on convention panels, giving up their seat to a woman in the same industry who was not invited.

But then, of course, the problems started with an unapologetic racist misogynist ran for president of SFWA. He lost in a landslide but still got 46 votes. I’m stunned that 46 (well, 45, I guess, since he probably voted for himself) people felt a giant step toward bigotry was the best way to go for the professional organization.

During this time, the SFWA Bulletin ran three questionable issues. One allowed two men to talk about “lady writers and editors,” reminiscing about which ones were hot. Then the cover of the Bulletin ran a chainmail bikini woman on the cover.* Then the two men responded to the criticisms of their first column by running another column about censoring feminist liberal nazis.

People have said it before, and better than I have, but

  1. Free speech means the government can’t censor you. A magazine editor, a blog owner, a forum moderator, certainly has say over what goes on/in their medium. People who consume such media have the right to call you out on your offensive positions.
  2. Free speech doesn’t mean people can’t call you out for being a bigot or asshole. Just as you had the free speech to say that women should be like Barbie, I have the free speech to call you a dick.

*(Yeah, I know chainmail bikini is a staple in fantasy – well, fantasy from the 1970s – and is still considered pretty sexist. The deal is, when/if a book comes out with that cover, I have the choice not to buy it, voting with my dollars. With the Bulletin, my dues are going toward this. I’ve already paid for it, like it or not.)

So as women started standing up for this, the attacks came (a lot of awesome men stood up too, and as I understand it, are not getting abused as much, but they are called things like “pinkshirts” and “gamma bunnies” which John Scalzi has embraced totally). Their opinions didn’t matter because they weren’t as well published as others. Or they shouldn’t come in trying to change an organization that was doing just fine before they arrived, thank you very much. And I started to feel

tumblr_m25fd6bz8g1qkgmnu

Then NK Jemisin gave an amazing GoH speech at an Australian con, and posted her speech online. Said loser of the SFWA presidency went on a horrific rant that was blatantly racist and sexist. Then he abused the SFWA Twitter account by releasing his blog post over the official twitter account, sending his racist vomit to all who are interested in SFWA writers. Amal El-Mohtar called for his removal from the organization. Now the same old guard are digging in their heels.

move-stars

Amid this all, I’m watching this and hating the whole thing.

scared

and

labyrinth-o (1)

And as I think about how I wanted my career to go, in the terms of being a pro and getting involved with the community, I felt

goblin-changing-arrow-o

Through it all, I’m constantly amazed by the violent reaction to the idea that you should not treat people badly. (And that you have the right to decide what “badly” is – when a whole group of people are calling you out for bigotry, the obvious result doesn’t seem to be “nuh uh!”) I don’t think it’s that much that I be treated fairly, not “othered” by the term “lady” as Seanan McGuire puts it here, and not having my opinions judged by my plumbing. But apparently women not wanting to be harassed at a convention, not suggested to be Barbie, not calling people of color “savages,” and not crying about your right to be a bigoted asshole with no one calling you on it is

exhausted

I was despairing. I was seeing women and men with much better debate skills bang their heads on this wall, feeling I could never help them, that I would get in the way. And, frankly, I was afraid. I still am. But you know, here comes the epiphany I had this morning:

power

Their silencing tactics are the oldest trick in the book. And it was working on me. Calling names, threatening, telling people their voice simply doesn’t matter. It’s the bully tactic, the puffing up of feathers, toddlers screaming in a tantrum, that they are using.

Can they actually hurt me? Maybe. There is a reason we are fighting – to feel safe at conventions, to be respected as equals, to have our work judged based on the work and not our race, gender, sexuality, or any of the other reasons people dismiss us. But the weapons against us are becoming increasingly primitive. Mean emails? Nasty names? Threats? SMOFs won’t invite me as a guest to conventions? Those tactics are the wail of a dying breed, the last resorts of people desperate for things not to change, as the change is about to roll over them. If we really didn’t matter, they wouldn’t notice us. They notice. And they’re scared. There are an awful lot of us who believe that people shouldn’t be bigots.

And the bigots have no power over us. As long as we keep fighting for what is right.

labyrinth-jareth-defeat-o








 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Personal

On me, as of late

Hey guys, sorry you haven’t seen me around much except for the regular postings of Shambling Guide. I had the feeling of Life Tsunami hit, and it forced a bit of a depression on me and haven’t felt up to recording lately. I’m finally coming out of it, and figured I’d fill you in on what’s up.

My husband is doing much better, thanks all who asked. Four weeks ago he was hit by a car on his bike. On one hand, it could have been SO MUCH WORSE than it was. He was very lucky. On the other hand, he still broke his collarbone, fractured his elbow, and got road rash. So the past four weeks have been focused on him, his recovery, and the fact that he can’t drive. Doc visits today place him as healing fast, so that’s a happy thing. I told him he had mutant healing power like Wolverine, only slower.


The book The Shambling Guide to New York City is doing well, as far as I can figure. I don’t have numbers for any other book to compare the bookscan numbers to, but the editor is happy, the reviews are all great, and I got some NPR love in the form of a one-minute review from Cory Doctorow on The World show, which was just awesome.


I’m about done with my Torment novella. If you followed the Kickstarter campaign, you may have noticed one of the stretch goals was a novella written by me. That’s due this month, and I’m on track, thanks to…


the MAGIC SPREADSHEET. Yes, I’m still in this cult, and about to hit 200 days. More on that later.


Stonecoast residency next month. I’ve finished 3rd semester, so that’s a relief. This fall I work on my thesis. I’ll be writing something new, I think. We’ll see.


RANT TIME!

I am not going to go see Man of Steel. I’ve never been one of the huge movie fans, gotta see stuff on huge screen, opening weekend or else the film will degrade, etc, but this, I think, speaks to something larger that has been bugging me. We’re told to write our passions, we’re told to write what scares us, we’re told to write the unique story only we can tell. And then what does media give us? Another Dresden book. Another Sookie book. Another Wheel of Time book. Another Spider-Man reboot. Another Superman reboot. Hangover 3. Star Trek reboot movie II. Fast and the Furious VI. Final Fantasy XIII, another Mario game, another Uncharted game, another Bioshock game.

And dont get me wrong, I like a lot of those things too. Some of them are damn good, and some of them I actively look forward to. (Another Dragon Age game? Sign me up!) And hell, if I can make Shambling Guide stick as a series, I’ll be writing that as long as I can. It doesn’t bother me that that sequels and reboots exist, my problem is it seems these kinds of media are THE MAJORITY of what we are getting. A new game that’s not a third person shooter of some sort? A fantasy book that’s not political intrigue and rape featuring The Chosen One? A summer blockbuster that doesn’t ride on the heels of last year’s blockbuster?

I feel like people who complain about the lack of healthy food when you travel. When healthy food is offered next to fast food, you know where people are going to go. I’m totally guilty of this. People go for the comfortable, the easy, the familiar, all the while saying they want something new and exciting. The market follows what people do, not what they say.

So with Man of Steel, I’m doing. I’m not voting for another reboot with my dollars, not with Wonder Woman in production hell (is it on or off again? It’s like a bad relationship at this point.) Not with people claiming women stars can’t carry a movie (except when they can – those times don’t count, naturally.) Not with so many superheroes out there and Hollywood suckling constantly at the teat of SupermanBatmanSpider-Man.

(And please don’t cherry-pick in order to prove me wrong, I know that there ARE original media coming out, and I know that The Avengers is Thor’s gift to Hollywood. I’m not saying the above are absolutes, but they ARE dominant, you can’t deny that.)

Rant over. I’ve got a sinus headache that’s making me hate life. So watch my new favorite song. This is so NSFW. Seriously.