Categories
personal

Thoughts on turning 40

So I turned 40 yesterday. All my jokes about taking a birthday raincheck for probably two years until I can actually do something celebratory aside, it’s a thing that happened. It’s been 40 years since 1980.

Yeah, I know. I think it’s bullshit, too. I’m still absolutely certain the 90s were only like ten years ago.

I can say that when I was 20, turning 40 seemed like a hazy, unimaginable temporal distance. 40 seemed old. And I remember when my dad turned 40 and we gave him a cane and a cake with black icing on it (which stained everyone’s mouths in a really, horrifying yet satisfying way) and black crepe paper. It did seem old. And distant. And unknowable.

I’ve learned after 40 years that old is a relative thing. When music that I, in all honestly, mostly hated in high school (sorry to all my peers, but I will never be over my loathing of either Nirvana or the Red Hot Chili Peppers) turns up on the oldies station, I turn into dust and blow away because it forces me to remember that we’re now further away from the 90s than I was from the 70s when I was hearing some of my dad’s favorite music on those stations. When Those Damn Kids on Twitter or TikTok (or alternatively, my nieces, who are both far too clever than they have any right to be) remind me that they never knew a world without the internet, or mention things from the 80s and 90s as vintage and retro, I feel old because I’m suddenly reminded I’m no longer the baby in the room. Even as a working adult, up until I was in my late twenties I was always the youngest person in my workplace. I was always younger than my doctors.

Well, not any more.

The perception of time is relative. The perception of how we change is also relative, because from the inside, most change is slow and incremental and it’s only when you look back in the aggregate that you can realize the 22 years since you officially became an adult have changed you, and distilled you, and taught you a lot of things, and slowly stripped away your fucks until you have so few left you jealously save them for the things that really, really, really matter.

I don’t feel old. I still feel like me. I feel like more me than I felt when I was 20 and had no fucking idea who me actually was. Aging is an excavation into yourself, a journey down into an unmapped cave system that doubles and triples back and has dead ends and wrong turns and every time you get to a new cave and try to encompass its breadth and depth and beauty–or ugliness–and incorporate it into your heart, you realize there’s still deeper to go. It’s a process of always becoming rather than simply being that I honestly hope never stops, so that even on the day I die (which will hopefully be many more decades in the future) I’m still looking into the crystallizations of my experience with all their layers and imperfections and thinking, Oh, that’s new.

Even when I was 20, I looked seriously askance at people who talked about high school as their glory days, like it couldn’t get any better. From another 20 years down the road, the only thing from those previous decades I could ask for is the skeletal system, with its joints still filled with their full complement of cartilege. My 20s weren’t bad–I had plenty of good times–and neither were my 30s. They were a mix of all things. But I would never ask to go back to the person I was 20 years ago, or even 10 years ago, because I’ve learned so much along the way about patience and beauty and determination and letting go. I’ve learned so much about where to have my emotional callousses and what pain is worth feeling because it’s part of being deeply connected to my own humanity and the lives of my fellow travelers on this world.

It feels a little strange to be writing something so… happy and heartfelt, I guess, when the world feels like an entire goddamn disaster. Maybe this all sounds too rosy; I don’t want to gloss over that there has been some truly awful, shitty stuff in the last couple of decades. Things that I would go back and change, if I could. Things I’m not proud of about the people I used to be, that I try to be honest and unflinching about when called upon, because that, too, is something to learn from. But as I’ve been thinking about all of this, it’s also undeniable that even when the external has been a struggle at times, internally I’m less of a goddamn mess than I’ve ever been.

And looking back at it, as scary and superstitious as it felt to be approaching 40–oh no, a round number we have arbitrarily decided is important because our culture works in base 10–I’m actually just grateful for everything I’ve learned and all the people I have loved. And if 40 years is what it took to get here, I can’t wait to see where I am and who I’ve become in 10, 20, 30, and if I’m lucky even 40 more.

This post actually started as a Twitter thread, and then I decided I had a lot more to say and think about, and even if not as many people will read it because it’s not as pithy, I’d rather it be mine. What I originally started with was trying to just sum up what I’ve learned over the last 20 years. Instead, that’s how I’m going to end this. We’ll see what I learn in the next 20.

  1. Always ask yourself what you’re actually trying to accomplish.
  2. Set achievable goals and focus your energy on things you can control.
  3. Gender is like Whose Line Is It Anyway? where everything’s made up and the points don’t matter.
  4. Kind is better than nice–but always ask yourself who you’re being kind to.
  5. Setting boundaries and defending them is ultimately healthier for everyone.
  6. Listening is better than talking.
  7. No matter how frustrating it feels, incremental progress is still progress.
  8. Learning to take joy in the success of others is sometimes easier said than done, but it’s worth the practice.
  9. It’s okay to stop doing things that make you miserable; suffering is not actually noble.
  10. Don’t be a macho shithead.
  11. Change is constant and you have to learn the difference between what can be fought and what must be accepted and adapted to.
  12. Big problems require collective action.
  13. Always say “I love you.”

(PS: If you want to wish me a happy birthday, you can always buy one of my books or leave a review of them or give money to Stacey Abrams’s organization Fair Fight because I literally cannot think of a better present than a Senate where a majority doesn’t hate trans people.)

Categories
deep space nine rewatch tv

DS9 Rewatch: Season 2, Episode 26

Only time for one episode tonight, which is the father-son (and uncle-nephew) camping trip disaster that is The Jem’Hadar.

Honestly, this is what Sisko gets for not letting Jake just enjoy his plants in peace. But he sees it as a chance to take Jake on a camping trip that can double as a science project… and then Jake invites Nog along, because Nog needs to not fail out of school. Honestly, I love the relationship between Jake and Nog. They’re both great kids with a great relationship. But from the adult perspective, I can recognize Sisko’s moment of suppressed eye-rolling. I, too, have been the kid who insisted on bringing along a friend that my parent did not like and only put up with because I insisted on being friends with them. (Thankfully, not something I figured out until I was a grown up and saw it in action from that side of things… and I get the feeling that you think your kid is friends with someone who is bad for them, but also you can’t do anything about it but grin and bear it.)

Anyway, the altered plan is something Sisko could deal with… except Quark, who is trying very hard to suck up to Sisko because he wants to do… something…. invites himself along, too. This goes about as well as you would expect, in that Sisko already doesn’t like Quark, and Quark is not the outdoorsy type. Thankfully their mutual misery is interrupted by a telekinetic space elf lady running into their camp and stunning Sisko, then getting them all captured by the Jem’Hadar, who have always reminded me of humanoid ankylosaurs.

Nog and Jake were out of camp when the grownups get captured, so they have to do the best they can. They manage to get to the runabout on their own, which is good. But they have to figure out how to get anything in the runabout to work, which is a lot harder on them. But they figure it out, and they make it to the wormhole just in time for reinforcements to come through and O’Brien can take over.

Ultimately it’s all a ploy by the Dominion to get a spy briefly on DS9. Though at least Quark and Sisko figure that out right quick and send her packing.

Basically, this is going back to the mention of the Dominion we got with the Ferengi trying (and failing) to establish trade relations with them. And they look a lot scarier thanks to the Jem’Hadar showing up on DS9 to deliver some threats. The Jem’Hadar gets established as a presumably technologically superior threat–they can just walk through containment fields, and destroy the Odyssey with a suicide attack as it retreats–who has staked out the gamma quadrant as theirs.

There’s a bit about Sisko and his relationship with Ferengi, which basically Quark decides is a problem of humans being racist against Ferengi. Because Ferengi greed reminds humans of their past, only according to him Ferengi were never as bad as humans because they haven’t done genocide or slavery. (Him mentioning slavery specifically to a Black man was… sure something.) There’s some “building mutual respect via combat during escape” action, so we can see Sisko and Quark at least figuring out how to work together, even if they still don’t like each other.

As a season finale, it feels like it fizzles a bit. It’s not really the summation of any plotline for the season, and for all that it ends with the death of a starship, it lacked the tension we even got out of the season 1 finale, In the Hands of the Prophets, while still hinting at conflicts to come. And if memory serves, the Dominion and the Jem’Hadar become a MUCH bigger problem than The Worst Bajoran Ever, though I seem to remember it takes a couple more seasons to really get going. It’s a slow burn and a long plan, something that felt like a major departure at the time… though now it seems pretty fantastic that the show has so many episodes ahead of it of cold war before it goes into full hot war.

TV has sure changed a lot.

Categories
deep space nine rewatch tv

DS9 Rewatch: Season 2, Episode 24-25

I’ve been meaning to get back to my Star Trek rewatches… the ultimate goal is to finish DS9 and finally watch Voyager, which I saw very little of when I saw it air. So let’s get back on the wagon!

It’s a rough start after a long pause, because we’re deep into Bajoran politics and religion with The Collaborator. It’s time for the Bajorans to choose a new Kai, so it’s Bareil as the favorite candidate versus the sleazily manipulative queen of passive aggression, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth Winn. Winn isn’t ready to let power slip out of her clutches, and she sees an opportunity to scuttle Bareil’s candidacy when an infamous collaborator named Kubus shows up. Kubus was the mastermind of a lot of bad shit happening to his fellow Bajorans, though like many collaborators he claims he did it to prevent worse harm.

Where it gets all twisty is that Kubus says he knows who really caused an infamous massacre. It’s not clear if he decides to offer Bareil up to get Winn to help him off the station, or if Winn feeds him that as the fact she wants to hear. But the mud gets splattered on Bareil… and Bareil accepts blame that turns out to not belong to him. Because it was actually beloved Kai Opaka, making one of those deals with the devil to save thousands at the cost of 43 people (including her own son) and Bareil thinks that saving her reputation is more important than saving his own.

I’m with Kira when she thinks that’s not worth the cost of letting Winn become Kai. She’s a goddamn right-wing religious nut. Bareil saying that it’s just up to them to somehow influence Winn into being less completely awful is not something that sat well with me back in the day, and even less so now. Protecting the reputation of a woman who can no longer even try to do good for Bajor at the cost of putting a goddamn fascist in charge is an absolutely hideous choice, and a cowardly one. Honestly, from all the hints at the beginning of the episode that show Bareil having some kind of doubts or showing uncertainty make me think that’s why he took that way out.

Anyway, it’s a pretty complex episode from a moral standpoint. Kira’s line, “A good man does not betray his people,” really hits hard when you find out the culprit was Opaka… and in a way, Bareil has also betrayed his people because he’s trying so hard to be good that he’s handed them right to the worst possible leader at the worst possible time. Or he already feels like a traitor because he’s covering for Opaka and let a vedek commit suicide over the matter, so maybe to him this feels like a path to absolution–boy is he wrong.

Also, doing a little outside reading about the episode, it sounds like the writers were originally planning for Bareil to become Kai… but then at the last minute, they realized Winn being Kai would be way, way worse for the Federation, and thus would be much better for the story. Which is a good point. When in doubt, take the plot option that makes things worse for everyone involved.

Next episode is Tribunal, which starts with Chief O’Brien going on vacation. And that means either the station is fucked, or O’Brien is fucked, or maybe both. That in the next scene, O’Brien meets up with an old colleague who has weirdly settled in Cardassian space, and the guy apparently takes a recording of his voice…

Yep. O’Brien is fucked.

Miles and Keiko get pulled over just hours into their vacation by Cardassians, who are way out of their space. Miles gets arrested and abducted back to Cardassia prime in an incredibly authoritarian scene where they demand to know if he admits to his crime but refuse to tell him what it is. Oh and then they strip him naked and rip one of his teeth out. And then they call the Federation to let Keiko come to the trial where the verdict has already been decided–he’s guilty, unsurprisingly–and then Odo steps in to volunteer as O’Brien’s “Nestor” thanks to the time when the Cardassians occupied the station.

Oh, and O’Brien’s execution has been scheduled for next week.

This is a great line from his assigned lawyer: “I am here to help you concede the wisdom of the state. To help you accept the inevitable with equanimity.”  Confession is good for the soul on Cardassia, you see. It’s even better for the populace. No need to worry about what you’ve been charged with; it doesn’t really matter. “This trial is to demonstrate the futility of behavior contrary to good order.”

Law and order, people. All crimes are solved, all criminals are punished. This is an episode that certainly still feels relevant today.

Of course it’s a set up; O’Brien is accused of helping the Maquis and the evidence has been planted. It’s all for show. And the trial is literally a show–all of Cardassia is watching. And his lawyer is not pleased about this, because he’s a year away from retirement. It’s on the edge of farce, except for the fact O’Brien is to be executed.

The amazing part is watching the archon immediately reverse herself when Sisko shows up with the Cardassian plant that framed O’Brien. Suddenly the Cardassian court has mercy, and it’s never made any mistake. The silent threat to embarass the Cardassian government in front of all the citizens is all it takes to get them to backpedal, and apparently everyone will just pretend that none of this ever happened.

Honestly, I love it when Star Trek has an excuse to do a courtroom drama, and this one was quite delicious. Fritz Weaver playing Kovat (O’Brien’s useless lawyer in this pantomime, who goes stentorian and Shakespearean in his complaints every time O’Brien or Odo go off script) and Caroline Lagerfelt as Chief Archon Makbar (who somehow never changes her assured tone between condemning O’Brien to death and congratulating him for furthering relations between the Federation and Cardassia by learning so much about the Cardassian legal system) are the icing on the cake for this episode.

Categories
Uncategorized

MileHiCon Schedule

Another con gone virtual this year–we’re making the best of it! I have 2 panels on Friday and will be part of a reading on Sunday. If you’re interested in attending MileHiCon, the virtual con is $15 anyone 12 and older, and free for anyone younger.

  • Disposable Characters (10/23 1000-1100): Women in refrigerators and lesbians can’t find love without dying – there are a lot of tropes about characters being disposable. Join our panelists to discuss the difference between killing off a character to motivate the plot or move it along versus just throwing one away.
  • Machete or Scalpel: Editing Your Work (10/23 1200-1300): Whether it’s with surgical precision or whacking through
    the jungle of your words, you should choose your editing tools carefully. Come learn about the pros and cons of how you edit your work.
  • Queer SF&F Reading (10/25 1130-1230): Still haven’t decided what I’m going to read (maybe something new?) but it’ll be queer.
Categories
writing

Quiz: Protoss or IKEA Furniture

So you may or may not know, but I wrote a novelette for the 10th anniversary of StarCraft II: One People, One Purpose

I am super duper proud of this story! And in celebration of that, I started an EXTREMELY SILLY Twitter quiz.

I will recreate the quiz below, and then put the answer key under the fold so people can check their answeres!

Choose the Protoss from each of these pairs of names! (The other is definitely IKEA furniture.)

Karax or Kallax

Galjon or Garudion

Kivik or Lyrak

Morabo or Mojo

Nyon or Alseda

Talis or Tarva

Vuku or Urun

Telbrus or Summera

Kaldalis or Sakarias

Marius or Mohandar

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANSWERS BELOW!

Categories
writing writing advice

Slush v Solicitations: Just tell us where we stand

Last updated: 8/4/20

I’ve recently written a couple of real salty twitter threads about the issue of short story venues–I mostly mean magazines, but anthologies can count, too–and their complete lack of transparency regarding just how much of their content they actually take from the slush pile versus how much is solicited.

A little background if you’re a new writer finding this:

Solicited Story: The editor contacts you personally and asks you to write a story for them. This may or may not come with the guarantee of publication.

Slush Story: You send your story cold into the slush pile and hope that the editorial staff will like it enough to buy it from you.

Backdoor Submissions: The venue says it’s closed to submissions, but a select group of people have been told that it’s still fine for them to send in stories.

Secret/Private Submissions Portal: The venue says it’s closed to submissions, but a select group of people have access to a submissions portal, for which the URL is not public.

And yes, all of the above things happen. All the time. I’m sorry to break it to you, new writer. This is something that it took me YEARS to figure out, when I was working to break into short stories. It sucks. I spent a lot of time looking longingly at anthologies and wondering how I kept managing to miss the submissions call. Well, the answer is that there are plenty of places that never issue a call for submissions because they know exactly who they want in their anthology/magazine, and it’s not someone who’s still trying to scrabble to the top of the slush pile. When I figured this out, I felt real fucking lied to, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did, too.

While you’re filing your teeth to razor points, I want to try to inject a little nuance into this. Because this isn’t intended to be a grand indictment of the practice of soliciting submissions–as much as it sucks for those of us who never or only rarely get invited–so much as the fact that there’s so much secrecy around it. I don’t know if this thing being an open secret that new writers have to figure out for themselves, like it’s the Westing Game except instead of an inheritance you get a potentially fatal blow to your ego, is an intentional snub. In all honesty, I have a feeling that this is just The Way It’s Always Been Done, starting back from the days when there was a relatively small collection of writers and they were almost all white cis dudes publishing each other in a congratulatory circle jerk and occasionally smugly noting how women and non-white men obviously didn’t write scifi instead of honestly understanding that when you’re a white dude and all your buddies are white dudes and therefore everyone you invite to your parties are also white dudes, that literally precludes anyone else getting a piece of the action.

Being an editor in general is a gatekeeping practice, filtering stories through taste and life experience and desired final product; soliciting stories is an even more direct act of gatekeeping because by its nature, it excludes the new and unknown. Again, I’m not here to say this is in any way inherently or necessarily evil. In my threads of salty saltiness, I came up with a multitude of examples where this power can be used for good, such as, say, soliciting stories from a few big name authors to drive sales of an anthology, and then slipping some new or less well known authors in so they can get more visibility. But I think not being open about the practice is also incredibly disingenuous, if not outright dishonest depending upon how one’s product is advertised.

My problem begins and ends with the lack of transparency. That’s the thing that, I feel, hurts the most when you’re standing on the outside and you cannot understand what’s preventing you from getting in. Yeah, it sucks to be told “this isn’t a venue for you; we’ll call you when we want you”–but then at least the expectation is set and understood. You know not to waste your time or emotional energy on a useless want.

But unfortunately, that’s not how things are done, for the most part. There are venues out there that run almost exclusively on solicited stories or only allow backdoor submissions, and the only way you’d know is the whisper network, which while useful, is something I always regard with a little bit of skepticism. And yeah, you bet I’ve heard stories about which venues do what, which has only fueled my salt levels; the reason I’m not naming them is that I sincerely hope they’ll be honest on their own, but also because I don’t feel comfortable making into assertions of fact that which I’ve been told (if multiple times) as rumor.

Everyone that’s said one way or another [that I know of] is in this twitter thread. (Other factors may affect the way the slush is handled at different magazines; I do not know how individual magazines handle these factors, and I did not ask because it was beyond the scope of this inquiry. But for example, writers who have sold to that place before might get passed along automatically, or award winners, etc. Slush isn’t a pure meritocracy, but it’s a way to edge your foot in the door.)

Again, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with soliciting content. If you’re honest about it. If you’re willing to tell writers what their odds actually are. If you’re not building your reputation on the appearance of being open to the new and untested while not following through. The whole point of this, other than my residual anger at yet another stupid, unwritten rule of the business, is that I don’t like it when people waste my limited time on this planet, particularly since most SFF venues don’t allow simultaneous submissions. If you only buy two stories a year from your slush and it’s going to take you six months to get to my inevitable rejection, at least have the basic fucking courtesy to let me judge what my odds really are.

Trying to get anything published is a hard enough task when you already know what to expect. It’s at times an incredibly demoralizing slog. The lack of transparency with regards to how much slush actually makes it through only makes this worse. Because those of us on the outside can feel that something is wrong, even if we don’t understand what, and the instinct of the writer is often to blame it on ourselves, or on our stories–when in fact the reason for what we sense is that there was never space for us to begin with.

So once again, I call on short story markets to be transparent about how much of their content they actually take from slush. Don’t leave writers to figure it out on our own. And if you do solicit most of your content and don’t want to say, maybe you should aks yourself why that is.

Appendix: Responding Venues (summarizing responses in the thread that starts here)

Analog SF – 100% slush with the sole exception of one story for the 90th anniversary issue

Asimov’s – 100% slush

Anathema Magazine – Trying to be 100% slush, solicits when necessary to fill out magazine, mostly art. (For detail, see this excellent thread.)

Apex Magazine – 90% slush for regular issues, 50/50 on theme issues.

Apparition Lit – Ficton all slush, will solicit nonfiction and guest editors.

Arsenika – Other than issue 0, all slush

Augur Magazine – At most 1 solicited piece per issue

Beneath Ceaseless Skies – >90% slush

Cast of Wonders – Bulk of episodes straight from slush, solicit 2-5 reprints per year

Clarkesworld – With the exception of the 100th issue, all slush all the time

Crossmass Infinities – Currently 100% slush, may consider soliciting 3 stories a year

The Dark – 100% slush

Diabolical Plots – All slush except for one piece that was a rush replacement

Escape Pod – Originals 100% slush, reprints 85% slush

Fantasy & Science Fiction – 100% slush

Fireside Fiction – At least half of every TOC is from slush

Fusion Fragment – Has solicited one reprint; vast majority will always come from slush

The Future Fire – 100% slush

Ghostwood Books – Anthologies filled from slush first; stories are solicited after if the slush is insufficient.

Glittership – 95% slush; solicits tend to be special cases.

Hexagon Speculative Fiction Magazine – 100% slush

Jellyfish Review – 1-2 pieces per year solicited, everything else slush

Kaleidotrope – All slush

Lackington’s Magazine – Solicited for first issue, all issues since have been slush

Metaphorosis Magazine – Ceiling for solicited content is 23%; at least 77% of magazine content is from slush. All themed anthologies are “private.”

Podcastle – Originals are slush EXCEPT for the Christmas and Eid specials. Sometimes will solicit reprints.

PseudoPod – Similar to Escape Pod, but with “a somewhat lower percentage of our reprints from slush”

Strange Horizons – Regular issues are 100% slush. May solicit for fund drives or special issues.

Timeworn Lit – 100% slush.

Translunar Travelers Lounge – 100% slush

Truancy Magazine – After first 3 issues, all new stories from slush with solicited reprints and 1 poem.

Uncanny Magazine – Solicited authors are listed on each year’s kickstarter. (Back of the envelope calculation by me looks like that comes to 4-6(?) pieces solicited per issue between short story, poetry, and nonfiction.)

Wizards in Space – All slush

Categories
worldcon

CoNZealand Schedule

It’ll soon be time for CoNZealand! Come hang out with me in Zoom!

Reading: Alex Acks
NZ Time: 30 Jul 2020, Thursday 11:00 – 11:25, Reading Room 2
Mountain Time: 29 July, Wednesday 17:00 – 17:25

My Favourite Board Game
NZ Time: 30 Jul 2020, Thursday 14:00 – 14:50, Programme Room 5
Mountain Time: 29 July, Wednesday 20:00 – 21:00
Join us as we explore the wonderful world of board games. Our panel of expert gamers will discuss their favorites from the past 10 years. We’ll compare bragging rights, and swap tales of our victories (or defeats). Let’s include our top ten lists.

Ask a Scientist
NZ Time: 31 Jul 2020, Friday 10:00 – 10:50, Programme Room 1
Mountain Time: 30 July, 16:00 – 17:00
Here’s your chance to publically pick the brains of various scientists, including a geologist, a chemist, an astrophysicist and a neuroscience researcher.

Climate Fiction/Climate Fact
NZ Time: 31 Jul 2020, Friday 14:00 – 14:50, Programme Room 1
Mountain Time: 30 July, 20:00 – 21:00
What’s the relationship between fiction about climate change and real-world actions? Does where authors live and work affect their perspective, as they write about climate?

Categories
politics

Open Letter to Westminster City Council Re: Statement on SB 20-217

This letter was emailed to all members of the Westminster, Colorado City Council on 7/10/2020.

 

Dear City Council:

I am a twenty year resident of Westminster and am generally very proud of this city. However, I must express my extreme disappoint in the statement that the city council put out regarding SB 20-217, found here: https://www.cityofwestminster.us/News/city-council-supports-police-department-after-passage-of-senate-bill-20-217
Particularly with this:
“Please know, the City intends to defend and indemnify its police officers for any liability incurred by them including any judgment or settlement entered against them for claims brought pursuant to C.R.S. 13-21-131 (1), unless the police officer/s are convicted of a criminal violation for the conduct from which the claim arises or otherwise precluded by law.”
I am in complete agreement with both Governor Polis and Attorney General Weiser, who expressed their disappointment with local governments trying to edge around the new civil liability measures of SB 20-217. I am, frankly, appalled that Westminster is trying to get around a law that has been a long time in coming and is in fact the smallest possible step toward addressing deeper, long-running issues of racist police violence in our state. I have long wanted to believe in Westminster’s Police Department as “one of the good ones”–but if that’s to be the case, this edging around the law of the state becomes even less acceptable.
It’s also, I will note, incredibly financially irresponsible on the part of the city to shield potential bad actors from civil liability counter to state law. I am generally very live and let live about tax revenue; it gets spent on things I don’t agree with all the time, and that’s the price of living in a democracy. A commitment that runs counter to the law of the state, which was enacted by our democratically elected government, however? That, I have a most profound problem with.
I strongly urge you to rethink this stance.
Alex Acks

 

Categories
Uncategorized

Hamilton on streaming

I never thought I’d actually get to see Hamilton. Going to New York to see a super expensive show was not something that was going to happen while I was working as a field tech and desperately doing work for hire writing to make up the deficit in my bills. And by the time I got that situation under control, the original cast was gone and the show had started traveling, but I’ve never been willing to go to many lengths to get tickets when they’re just going to be the crappy seats I can afford. (The only time I’ve ever been willing to give it a shot was for Coriolanus, mostly because there’s no such thing as a bad seat in the Donmar, which is tiny.)

But now it’s streaming. With the original cast. Just getting to see this is amazing. And it’s better than the best seats in the house. I wish more musicals and plays would do this. Hell, I’d be willing to pony up for it. Make the art accessible to more people.

Despite the fact that I’ve listened to the album for Hamilton more times than I can count, seeing the musical surprised me. It gave me chills. It made me cry, which the music alone has never been enough to do. But I basically cried through the latter half of the second act. There’s so much more to it than you can just get from music and lyrics.

Like I obviously knew that Burr was doing most of the narration. I had absolutely not idea how absolutely, bitterly pissed off he is for all of it until I actually got to see Leslie Odom Jr.’s face.

I knew Thomas Jefferson is absolutely obnoxious in this rendition. I did not know the absolute, gleeful depths of it without seeing Daveed Diggs.

I did not appreciate Angelica as much as she deserved until I saw Renée Elise Goldsberry.

I did not feel the depths of Eliza’s pain until Phillipa Soo ripped my heart out of my chest.

Basically, it’s amazing how good actors are at acting, I guess is what I’m trying to say. It’s an experience I’m grateful to have had. (Also, wow the times King George is on stage, holy shit.)

The staging of the thing is amazing. Hell, the lighting design. I already knew the show was good, but now I get how absolutely fucking excellent it is. I’m sure the experience in the actual theater is something else; there’s an energy to live shows, to being there with an audience. But I will take this and be out of my mind happy about it. Just like when I get to see streaming Shakespeare.

I know the pandemic has fucked over the arts in ways we won’t fully comprehend for years. But I can hope that maybe some good will come from it, like trying to find ways to make things accessible to people who can’t come to crowded theaters. And hopefully those innovations will stick around.

(And yes, I know the hagiography of Hamilton is problematic. If you need an antidote, read the bits of A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn that he’s featured in. That’ll have you calling him a son of a bitch for way more than just thinking with his dick–like, you know, some of the most fundamental economic injustices that have shaped our country. But Hamilton the musical is a work of historical fiction, and it’s a damn good one, and I’m going to enjoy it as such. Probaby multiple times because streaming is wonderful.)

Categories
books

I’m bad at reading long novels, except recently

Recently, I’ve actually managed to finish three novels that I’d consider fairly long:

  1. The Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone (480 pages, which doesn’t seem that long… except it’s a trade paperback)
  2. Lady Hotspur by Tessa Gratton (just shy of 600 pages as a hardback)
  3. It by Stephen King (eleventy-billion pages long, capable of killing a man if dropped on his head from two floors up)

I’m also in the midst of Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James which is… I’m not sure how many pages long, since I picked up the audiobook from the library after running out of Audible credits for the month. But it’s 24 hours long, which pegs it as significantly longer than The Empress of Forever, which felt pretty meaty as an audiobook at just shy of 20 hours. I’m also not sure how I’m getting along with Black Leopard, Red Wolf, since I’m enjoying the journey of it okay, but 11 hours in I also have no idea what the fuck is actually happening.

Anyway, I’m actually kind of impressed with myself that I’ve read this many long books. Because I’m generally not great at long books. I really loved Lady Hotspur and it still took me a long-ass time to read, because I was mostly just doing a few chapters at a time while I was on the exercise bike and couldn’t escape to do something else. It wasn’t until the last 15-20% that it suddenly just accelerated and I couldn’t put it down. That’s pretty much been my experience with all long books… lots of setup, lots of getting to know people, lots of moving all the pieces into position, and then it just goes balls-out for the last little bit.

Well, except for It, maybe. I had other feelings about It, probably because endings are the number one thing Stephen King isn’t real great at.

Long books feel like a lot of setup, but on the good ones, the payout is worth it. But I have such a difficult time sticking with the setup without wandering off and wanting to read something else. (I’m normally reading about four books at a time, but the real problem is wandering off to read something else and then never coming back because it just feels like too much effort.) So I’ve mostly avoided long books, which means I’ve really limited my second-world-fantasy intake, since it takes a lot of convincing to get me to invest the time in an epic fantasy tome. Maybe it’s that my reading time is so limited, and I read slowly enough (which feels weird to say since I used to think I was a fast reader until I met my housemate) that I feel keenly what a time investment it is. And I haven’t been willing to make that kind of investment into epic fantasy in particular since I grew up enough to realize Terry Goodkind was fantasy AU Ayn Rand fic.

The “it’s too slow and there’s too much setup” feels like an even weirder complaint to make in light of the main reason I’ve given up on all but a very select few YA–those things are too damn pacey. I’m not interested in relentless plot beats where every chapter ends with a cliffhanger and the characters never get a moment to sit and, you know, develop. Which leads to a different kind of boredom on my part. I really do like a lot of what longer novels can come with, because there’s so much more room for characters to really stew in what’s happening, and a lot more set up that leads to a bigger payoff, or more little twists for the plot to have… but I suppose I’ve gotten very picky about what feels worthwhile when it’s character development or setup time, because other than these recent reading efforts, I’ve dumped a lot of longer books because the length seems to come from lovingly detailed world building that I’m sure really does it for some people… just not me. Because about the time I scream “Get on with it!” at the book is when I DNF it.

(No, I’m not reading Game of Thrones and you can’t make me.)

The biggest thing is that my TBR pile is huge and always getting bigger, my waking, free-for-reading hours on Earth are limited and finite, and the major advantage that a short novel has over a long one is that I can read more of them. Long novels just really, really, REALLY have to be worth it. If a book is going to take the same time for me to read as 2-3 shorter novels, I’d better get 2-3 shorter novels of enjoyment out of it. Which may seem unfair if you’re someone who has written a brick and sees me passing it by unless it has a really immense hook like “Hey Alex, I know you’re really into Shakespeare’s histories so what if Henry IV but with ladies and lots of queer stuff” like fuck you just call me out by name next time. And as a counterpoint, if you as a writer can manage to squeeze that many words out of your head and go through the endless middle act(s) death march without wanting to jump in front of a bus AND craft it into a coherent story that people who probably aren’t me want to read, that’s unfair and I hate you. (No, I don’t.) (Yes, I do.)

Written for The Blog Challenge Project run by Shaun Duke, @shaunduke on Twitter.