![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
May. 1st, 2014
Counting to midnight!
May. 1st, 2014 10:07 amNot sure if this is the last post (I work today)
But there's still some time left to fund Writing Dangerously.
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/writing-dangerously/x/6784331#home
We're at $307, and there's been an offline $50, so let's see if we can break $400 and raise 1/10 of the goal!
But there's still some time left to fund Writing Dangerously.
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/writing-dangerously/x/6784331#home
We're at $307, and there's been an offline $50, so let's see if we can break $400 and raise 1/10 of the goal!
Planning for the Writing Dangerously book
May. 1st, 2014 10:29 amLook like it's going to be Dirty Toes. Yes, I've already started it. But it's getting a major rewrite.
Today, we're enjoying some visual casting.
So we have DJ Admire, PI to the Nightside of Memphis.
"I'm just a No-Talent PI, without enough magic to train, but just enough to drive me straight into the Nightside and the bottle.
So far, I was still holding the bottle instead of the other way around. No-Talents ended one of three ways. We were found ripped apart by something Nightside, or we went out with a needle in our arms or antifreeze in our veins. I wasn't the druggie sort, but those who knew me had their bets on the other two."
I do not have a visual on her, just a voice.
The Preternatural and Magic Squardon of the Memphis PD, all female, all magical, kind of dropped the case on DJ because they needed her contacts. They also made her take Officer Ortiz along.
Sgt Kenisha Thomas, Google goddess and seer. Her brother, Antoine, is VP of the local combat mage unit.
Player base: Lauryn Hill
Officer Paula Ortiz,new to the squad, having trouble with her control and on her last warning
Player base: Aracely Arambula
Corin Faw, Irish werewolf, genus grumpy, whose Sidhe husband may be key to saving Memphis. I don't have a good visual on Cian O'Brian
Player base: Jeff Bridges
Demarco Jackson and Antione Thomas, President and VP of the Delta Bluesmen. (And new brother Cody, a pyromancer, Antoine's trainee) Combat mages are organized like motorcycle clubs, and these two run Memphis and the surrounding area. If needed they liaise with Legba's Bastard Sons and the Dark Queens out of New Orleans or Mama Lillith's Rebel Daughters or the Moonshine Mountain Boys out of Nashville.
Player bases: Tyson Beckford. Michael Ealy. Chris Evans
Today, we're enjoying some visual casting.
So we have DJ Admire, PI to the Nightside of Memphis.
"I'm just a No-Talent PI, without enough magic to train, but just enough to drive me straight into the Nightside and the bottle.
So far, I was still holding the bottle instead of the other way around. No-Talents ended one of three ways. We were found ripped apart by something Nightside, or we went out with a needle in our arms or antifreeze in our veins. I wasn't the druggie sort, but those who knew me had their bets on the other two."
I do not have a visual on her, just a voice.
The Preternatural and Magic Squardon of the Memphis PD, all female, all magical, kind of dropped the case on DJ because they needed her contacts. They also made her take Officer Ortiz along.
Sgt Kenisha Thomas, Google goddess and seer. Her brother, Antoine, is VP of the local combat mage unit.
Player base: Lauryn Hill
Officer Paula Ortiz,new to the squad, having trouble with her control and on her last warning
Player base: Aracely Arambula
Corin Faw, Irish werewolf, genus grumpy, whose Sidhe husband may be key to saving Memphis. I don't have a good visual on Cian O'Brian
Player base: Jeff Bridges
Demarco Jackson and Antione Thomas, President and VP of the Delta Bluesmen. (And new brother Cody, a pyromancer, Antoine's trainee) Combat mages are organized like motorcycle clubs, and these two run Memphis and the surrounding area. If needed they liaise with Legba's Bastard Sons and the Dark Queens out of New Orleans or Mama Lillith's Rebel Daughters or the Moonshine Mountain Boys out of Nashville.
Player bases: Tyson Beckford. Michael Ealy. Chris Evans
- Wed, 19:32: The Last Minute! http://t.co/liAeuMuHlZ
- Wed, 19:32: The Last Minute! http://t.co/5jkCimivSJ
- Wed, 19:32: The Last Minute http://t.co/uaPfcoGBJP
- Thu, 00:56: April word count http://t.co/HkK62z8xyD
- Thu, 10:59: Happy Beltane! http://t.co/DyCR9K9S7S
- Thu, 11:09: Counting to midnight! http://t.co/MuLFuKKXRV
- Thu, 11:29: Planning for the Writing Dangerously book http://t.co/aL7CLqpiHY
Eight Hours Left...
May. 1st, 2014 06:27 pmThe clock counts down that last work shift.
Eight hours left in the Writing Dangerously campaign
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/writing-dangerously/x/6784331
Can Angel make even 1/10 of her goal?
$78 is all that's needed.
Get an ebook.
Get a paperback.
Get a character named after you!
Have a sample of the book that you'll be funding:
I poured myself some tea, laced it with rum, and thought. Couldn't be a 'thrope killing, the moon wasn't right. Vampires were only after the blood. Most of the predator species would rend and tear the whole body. The wounds were neat, not even ragged from hacking or a saw. It looked as if someone had just run a super sharp knife around the legs at the bottom of the underpants and the top of the knee. I had an image of flesh being split away from the bone like foam insulation off a pipe. The cleanness of the removal made something tickle in my brain but I couldn't think what it was.
No. This was a human, or mostly human, killing. But not the usual kind. They wouldn't call me in for a guy mad at his girlfriend or a pissed off stepdad who decides to take it out on the kids because it will hurt the woman more. There was something Nightside about this case, and I couldn't figure it out. I had better get on the stick, though. I had twenty-one days to save the next ankle-biter from a nasty death.
Nightside work again. Once you get a rep for it in this business, you never work with humans again. Not that I care about being around people, just that I like my corpses to stay dead. On the Nightside of Memphis there are all kinds of dead, from walking-around-working-dead like the zombies on President's Island to running-the-whole-vampire-underworld dead, like Elvis. I don't mind those. It's the ripping-the-throat-out-of-the-neighborhood-PI dead I object to.
Me, I wasn't dead. Not yet and I planned to keep it that way for a while.
And I was going to do my best to make sure some parent didn't wake up to a horrible surprise on Halloween morning. Full moon on Halloween, it was going to be a hot time in the old town that night. Full moons made the pixies frisky and a lot of Nightsiders more active. The vampires tended to stay in on Halloween, but the werewolves would be running.
We didn't have many local 'thropes. It had been a family unit of three with a couple cousins not in the pack proper. The late Old Man Camomescro ran tight herd on his son and grandson. Nice folks. Grandson Dan taught English at a local college before he'd moved to Wisconsin. His uncle, Zoltan, was in logistics and had stayed in town. The cousins were on my payroll. They were still at the bottom of my suspect list.
Vamps were out of the question. We hadn't had an exsanguination in over a decade. Elvis keeps his people in line. Zombies didn't eat people, unless they got out from under their spell. Those that did seldom got more than a bite or two out of the foreman before being put down. Ghosts didn't kill. Or rather, they compelled people into dangerous situations instead of outright attacks.That eliminated the most obvious Nightsiders. Yay for new and exciting cases.
I hoped it wasn't another demon.
Eight hours left in the Writing Dangerously campaign
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/writing-dangerously/x/6784331
Can Angel make even 1/10 of her goal?
$78 is all that's needed.
Get an ebook.
Get a paperback.
Get a character named after you!
Have a sample of the book that you'll be funding:
I poured myself some tea, laced it with rum, and thought. Couldn't be a 'thrope killing, the moon wasn't right. Vampires were only after the blood. Most of the predator species would rend and tear the whole body. The wounds were neat, not even ragged from hacking or a saw. It looked as if someone had just run a super sharp knife around the legs at the bottom of the underpants and the top of the knee. I had an image of flesh being split away from the bone like foam insulation off a pipe. The cleanness of the removal made something tickle in my brain but I couldn't think what it was.
No. This was a human, or mostly human, killing. But not the usual kind. They wouldn't call me in for a guy mad at his girlfriend or a pissed off stepdad who decides to take it out on the kids because it will hurt the woman more. There was something Nightside about this case, and I couldn't figure it out. I had better get on the stick, though. I had twenty-one days to save the next ankle-biter from a nasty death.
Nightside work again. Once you get a rep for it in this business, you never work with humans again. Not that I care about being around people, just that I like my corpses to stay dead. On the Nightside of Memphis there are all kinds of dead, from walking-around-working-dead like the zombies on President's Island to running-the-whole-vampire-underworld dead, like Elvis. I don't mind those. It's the ripping-the-throat-out-of-the-neighborhood-PI dead I object to.
Me, I wasn't dead. Not yet and I planned to keep it that way for a while.
And I was going to do my best to make sure some parent didn't wake up to a horrible surprise on Halloween morning. Full moon on Halloween, it was going to be a hot time in the old town that night. Full moons made the pixies frisky and a lot of Nightsiders more active. The vampires tended to stay in on Halloween, but the werewolves would be running.
We didn't have many local 'thropes. It had been a family unit of three with a couple cousins not in the pack proper. The late Old Man Camomescro ran tight herd on his son and grandson. Nice folks. Grandson Dan taught English at a local college before he'd moved to Wisconsin. His uncle, Zoltan, was in logistics and had stayed in town. The cousins were on my payroll. They were still at the bottom of my suspect list.
Vamps were out of the question. We hadn't had an exsanguination in over a decade. Elvis keeps his people in line. Zombies didn't eat people, unless they got out from under their spell. Those that did seldom got more than a bite or two out of the foreman before being put down. Ghosts didn't kill. Or rather, they compelled people into dangerous situations instead of outright attacks.That eliminated the most obvious Nightsiders. Yay for new and exciting cases.
I hoped it wasn't another demon.
Thinking about Appropriation
May. 1st, 2014 10:44 pmDenny Upkins sent this out on FB today:
#WeNeedDiverseBooks Because as a gay man, I'm sick of my existence being misrepresented in m/m slash by fetishising cis straight white women
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jimhines says "That’s another piece of what appropriation means to me. Appropriation is when I take a part of your identity, your culture, your history, and I use it to create a story that isn’t for you."
Now, I'm not straight, and I'm not fetishizing, but I most certainly am appropriating by that definition. I do not write for a gay male audience. I am a woman--sort of (female-bodied with MPD)--writing for women. I have some gay readers, and they are welcome, but they are not my target.
I am telling a love story and encouraging my female readers to identify with male characters--as every other bit of media in our lives has encouraged us to--and to put away their female bodies, along with the cultural baggage that makes them problematic. I am creating a place where we're not too fat or too thin or too tall or too curvy or too bony, where there are no breasts to obsess over: size, shape, sag, pimples, hair and even nipple weirdness. Where the texture of our hair, the amount of moles on our body, the size of our pores, the shape of our nose, everything we've ever been told is WRONG (and everything is ALWAYS wrong with the female body because there is profit to be had in wrongness and the performance of beauty), all that is gone.
A place where the body we wear for the duration of the story is a simple one, with clean lines and always the right shape and size for the role it fills.
I am creating a place where sex is just as simple. Where the same motions almost always work. Not one like my own body where what feels amazing one minute and is tipping me toward orgasm suddenly turns annoying and throws cold water on everything.
It's all about uncomplicated.
I am using one group of outsiders to tell the stories for another group of outsiders. Because the stories of the second group are fraught, they come with too much baggage.
Telling heterosexual love stories is always a balancing act between politics and power and sex. How much strength is too much, on either side? When does he cross the line to abusive ass or her to ball-breaker? How much giving is too much? Is either a doormat for the other? Is he a wimp? Is she weak? And what words to use, oh dear bird! I've been over that in another post. As well as the sneaking suspicion that I'm encouraging heterosexuality, which I really don't believe is good for women.
Answers? I don't have any.
I write as the muses move me, tell the stories that demand to be told.
Yes, I realize about 9 kinds of privilege intersect for me to be able to do that.
Yes, I'm going to keep writing for women: adventure tales with characters who fall in love, regardless of sex or performed gender.
Guys, you can read if you want. But you don't get to tell me what I may and may not write.
#WeNeedDiverseBooks Because as a gay man, I'm sick of my existence being misrepresented in m/m slash by fetishising cis straight white women
jimhines says "That’s another piece of what appropriation means to me. Appropriation is when I take a part of your identity, your culture, your history, and I use it to create a story that isn’t for you."Now, I'm not straight, and I'm not fetishizing, but I most certainly am appropriating by that definition. I do not write for a gay male audience. I am a woman--sort of (female-bodied with MPD)--writing for women. I have some gay readers, and they are welcome, but they are not my target.
I am telling a love story and encouraging my female readers to identify with male characters--as every other bit of media in our lives has encouraged us to--and to put away their female bodies, along with the cultural baggage that makes them problematic. I am creating a place where we're not too fat or too thin or too tall or too curvy or too bony, where there are no breasts to obsess over: size, shape, sag, pimples, hair and even nipple weirdness. Where the texture of our hair, the amount of moles on our body, the size of our pores, the shape of our nose, everything we've ever been told is WRONG (and everything is ALWAYS wrong with the female body because there is profit to be had in wrongness and the performance of beauty), all that is gone.
A place where the body we wear for the duration of the story is a simple one, with clean lines and always the right shape and size for the role it fills.
I am creating a place where sex is just as simple. Where the same motions almost always work. Not one like my own body where what feels amazing one minute and is tipping me toward orgasm suddenly turns annoying and throws cold water on everything.
It's all about uncomplicated.
I am using one group of outsiders to tell the stories for another group of outsiders. Because the stories of the second group are fraught, they come with too much baggage.
Telling heterosexual love stories is always a balancing act between politics and power and sex. How much strength is too much, on either side? When does he cross the line to abusive ass or her to ball-breaker? How much giving is too much? Is either a doormat for the other? Is he a wimp? Is she weak? And what words to use, oh dear bird! I've been over that in another post. As well as the sneaking suspicion that I'm encouraging heterosexuality, which I really don't believe is good for women.
Answers? I don't have any.
I write as the muses move me, tell the stories that demand to be told.
Yes, I realize about 9 kinds of privilege intersect for me to be able to do that.
Yes, I'm going to keep writing for women: adventure tales with characters who fall in love, regardless of sex or performed gender.
Guys, you can read if you want. But you don't get to tell me what I may and may not write.