As you can tell by the exceedingly polite signage, I’m in the UK again. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here in May. Normally we only come in December, for Christmas. But I like this much better.
(We’re here because Mike’s sister is getting married. And then that seemed like a good excuse to see the Royal Shakespeare Company do Hamlet so expect gushing about that later this week.)
I’m actually surviving the jetlag pretty well right now. If you can believe it, I managed to sleep on the plane. This never happens. I think part of this was because I’ve had to start keeping normal human hours, what with working a regular job and all. But also, there really weren’t any movies I was all that excited to see on the list. Instead I dozed as best I could, using Tom Hiddleston reading The Red Necklace to drown out the snoring of my fellow passengers.
I did watch one movie – Rise of the Guardians. A lot of my friends saw it in theaters, and I heard a lot of squeeing. I don’t know what I expected, but… meh. It just didn’t do a whole lot for me, and I’m not even certain why. I think I expected something on the level of Wreck-it Ralph maybe, and Guardians just didn’t have a tight, clever enough script for that. Though there were some fun moments. I really loved the Tooth Fairy giving Pitch a quarter before punching him in the mouth. But I can’t say I’m sorry I didn’t see it before now.
The flight was actually really productive, before I was too exhausted to see straight. I did line edits that I owed, and finished another draft of Significant Figures. I think that story might be just about where it needs to be now.
Anyway, now we’re in Birmingham. Mike’s parents rented a nice apartment for the weekend that we’re sharing, and we went tot he rehearsal dinner for the wedding. Though we begged off going to the actual rehearsal because we didn’t want wedding spoilers. (Translation: Oh god just let me sit on the couch and die.) Tomorrow I have to go bra shopping first thing in the morning because I forgot my strapless bra in Houston (it’s always something) and then as a reward we’ll see Iron Man 3 which I’m so excited about I can only express it by keysmashing. (U#)INGWEHR((Q#
Going to stay awake a bit longer and then see if the sleep thing will happen. Could this be my first time ever in the UK not destroyed by jetlag? We’ll see!
Thundering down the pavement at 26 miles per hour, rattling over bumps and potholes, hands going numb. It’s night, red and white lights flashing everywhere. There are people in front of you, behind you. You’re a freight train. You’re unstoppable. The wind is so loud in your ears you can barely hear your iPod.
And for one perfect moment, everyone pulls together. You’re a human being with 50 legs, 25 hearts, and you take in a breath and bare your teeth at the road.
Which is to say hello everyone, I actually am still alive. I’m just kind of having a rough time getting adjusted to that having a real job thing and figuring out when I can do non-job stuff like writing and blogging and exercising. I’ve given exercise a priority for now (since I’m feeling awesome) and as a result I’m feeling even more awesome, but feel like I don’t have much time for anything else on the weekdays.
Today, instead of exercising, I went shoe shopping. Which is not my least favorite kind of shopping, shockingly enough. I’d still rather shop for shoes than for any kind of clothes, for example, or for a house. Shopping for shoes has never made me feel either terminally unattractive or exceedingly poor, just… frustrated. But today I was victorious! I got a new pair of shoes for work:
You are not seeing this incorrectly. Those are men’s dress shoes. It’s all part of my grand plan to confuse everyone I work with about my sexuality. (Kidding.) (Mostly.) Actually, it’s because I fucking hate women’s shoes, particularly dress shoes. They are never comfortable. It’s like whoever designed those shoes started out on the premise that obviously women do not want to walk like normal humans. And never have foot problems. And never need to wear insoles.
Well, I have problems with my feet, and I need to wear insoles, and I think it’s a really bad sign when I find myself wishing I could wear my freaking cycling cleats in the office because they hurt my feet less. And thus – men’s shoes.
One thing I did find weird about trying them on is that they make my feet feel huge. I’m thinking it’s the square-ish toes. I feel like most women’s shoes are really trying to minimize our feet, so this feels very weird indeed.
Anyway. New shoes. Hooray. We’ll see how that goes.
Otherwise the new job is great. My coworkers are all super nice people. I love my mentors and I’m learning a lot. The learning curve is incredibly steep, but I think I’m doing an okay job of clawing my way along it. I’ve been looking at thin sections and describing core, and that’s all stuff I like. I get to play with a tablet, which is fun.
No one’s seriously attempted to kill me during my morning or afternoon bicycle commute yet. So that’s fun too. Hopefully it’ll stay that way.
Well, I’ve let this show build up in my Hulu queue, and I seem to have run out of Bones, Castle, Supernatural, Law and Order: SVU, and even Project Runway reruns. Guess it’s time to clear it out. (I will note, however, I’m still watching this before Grimm. So, Grimm, you should think long and hard about what you’ve been doing with your life.)
Not a liveblog as such. Just the horrible things I think at this show as I’m watching it. Why am I still watching it?
Episode 5:
And we start episode 5 right off with the serial killer threesome in bed. Well, I guess they know what I’m in it for. (Though I have to say, as weird as this sounds, I appreciate it being a two guys and a girl threesome. That makes it very clearly not the typical male fantasy bait.) It’s such a bizarre mix, to have Paul talking killing technique with Jacob one moment, and then trying to calm him down out of a freakout about how he’s not gay in the next. (And I have to say, “Last night is exactly what it needed to be, why do you have to worry about labels?” is a pretty good line from the psychotic murderer guy.)
The greatest trick of this show is making the killers the most human and interesting characters.
Though man, the psychotic babysitter crew are the worst imaginable at keeping an eye on where the kid is at.
I find it so, so very funny that Jacob can’t bring himself to kill the woman in the basement, and that he’s upset about it.
But hey, time to go murder the neighbors!
Another weird thing – despite the fact we’ve seen Emma kill a bunch of people, I still worried about her a little when someone was in the house. But it’s okay. More serial killer brethren to evacuate her and the kidnapped kid. But it’ll break up the threesome and that’s very sad.
Even worse – I want them to escape the law. Because hey, they’re the only characters I even like.
I do not get why the lawyer would work for Carroll after he’s had two of her fingers cut off. I mean, I would get it if it was someone she loved under threat, but if it was her, why the hell wouldn’t she go to the cops? And I assume people have noticed and asked her how this happened. It’s gross and disturbing but makes no sense at all.
Episode 6:
Hardy and Paul arguing about who is going to kill who while Jacob wets his pants in apparent fear over the thought of having to kill someone is sort of a beautiful moment. And suddenly I’m reminded of why I loved Agent Angsty McAlcoholic, because this is the most life Kevin Bacon’s gotten to show in ages. It’s beautiful.
Oh Hardy, you gravelly badass. You’re so much more awesome when you have nothing left to lose.
And in case you forgot, Emma wears the pants of this evil little family.
Oh whoops, Hardy forgot about poor Megan. Like everyone else in this series, and the audience. Poor Megan.
Wow really, talk to Emma about her mom? About the lady she stabbed because she insulted Emma’s haircut? Really?
Apparently the FBI agent lady was in a cult growing up. These flashbacks would have more impact if I actually gave a crap about her, I’m sure.
GOD PAUL FIRST YOU WANT JACOB TO KILL MEGAN THEN YOU WON’T LET HIM STRANGLE HER MAKE UP YOUR MIND.
Oh look. Another surprise Follower. Blah blah blah. Poor Paul though. Guess stabbing isn’t nearly so much fun when you’re on the receiving end.
Aaaaaand even more Followers in the FBI. Whee. Look, I know it’s a plot device that’s supposed to engender paranoia because now they never know who they can trust, but for goodness sake apparently 90% of the population is in this cult.
Aw, poor Jacob and Paul. Emma just ditched them. Though she seems upset she did it. I am so incredibly sad my favorite threesome of evil has broken up. I hope it’s only temporary.
Episode 7:
Well, guess I’m glad to know the cult isn’t all unified. I want Emma to kick the ugly guy’s butt, though. I admit it. I’m an Emma fangirl. She’s my favorite mass-murdering psychopath and god I feel gross for having typed that sentence.
Hardy, that’s not an edit. I’m pretty sure that’s a piece of paper. But it does show evidence of an edit. And a bad editor.
Carroll escaped. No one is surprised. Seriously, the guy already had to of the lawyer’s fingers cut off. How did she not think he was going to kill her?
Oh look. More random killers. Though I have to say, the woman with the razor has some class. Louise.
Not your smartest move, Hardy. It’s always sad when someone gets threatened with their own gun. Even more sad when said gun has been taken from them after having their arm slammed repeatedly in a door.
Why is every psychotic villain an emotionally needy theater major under it all? Such monologing.
Ah, I think we’re going for the obvious point where Hardy’s pursuit of a sadistic monster is turning him into something monstrous perhaps? Or at least I hope so. Because gosh.
I will say this for the episode. This is a pretty awesome song:
For the, you know, now standard musical ending number. (I remember back in the day when ER started doing this kind of thing and I thought it was relentlessly cheesy. Some shows do it well, like Supernatural – probably because there’s already so much vocal music woven into the show – but it just feels weird to me in this one.)
Episode 8:
Gosh Carroll I don’t know why your kid would be scared of you at all. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re intensely creepy? “I have the ability to be a rather cool and fun guy?” Seriously? You’re an evil mastermind and this is the best you can come up with?
I believe what you mean is that, “He flew away in a helicopter and then dropped leaflets over a city block that all said TROLOLOLOL BITCHEZ NEVERMORE.
Oh. The hardass new guy FBI agent plot. Whee.
Aw. Emma is worried about Paul and Jacob. But apparently not worried enough that it’ll stop her from hitting on the boss. Who says no because he loves his wife. (…well okay then.)
I did not expect the mysterious Roderick to be a sheriff with a southern accent. Aw. Murderers are such a happy family of huggy bears.
I am amused that one of the evil cult members if a former Blackwater operative. (Louise, the cool lady with the razorblade.)
Well, I’m glad at least Mike isn’t a secret serial killer. Kind of weird torture method they got going there. Woo fist fight!
Way to come in with guns blazing, Hardy. Maybe you should have done that before poor little Mike got stabbed. Aw, sad. Man, these guys shoot like stormtroopers and the rounds spark like blaster rounds. It’s kind of ridiculous.
Tender string music, golden, flickering firelight, two men embracing over a plastic sheet, one gasping… what a beautiful murder scene.
And then all the murderers got laid and Hardy sat in a hospital and felt sorry for himself the end.
Episode 9:
Apparently we’re starting this episode off with a review of how creepy Carroll is.
Aaaand no one tries to stop the woman that just shot someone with a spearfishing gun. I mean, shock and everything, I get, but she just walks calmly out with Louise. What the hell are they putting in the water in this city?
Wow. Jacob’s mom is sure… accepting.
YES MOM HIS SHAMEFUL SECRET HE NEVER KILLED ANYONE. Oh Jacob.
They just keep making up more and more flashbacks. Which feel like they don’t entirely work with the previous sets of flashbacks.
Aw, Paul loves Jacob. And gets to be the first person Jacob kills. Why are all the best, most emotional scenes in this show between the murderers? I feel like I could write a thesis on this. And incredibly creepy, fucked-up thesis.
I CAN’T HEAR THE MURDER THE MUSIC AT THIS PARTY IS TOO LOUD.
Wow, Hardy. “I will shoot you dead.” “I don’t think you have the–” BANG. This man is done fucking around. I bet Louise was wearing a vest though.
So Jacob is back. I’m sure this won’t be awkward at all.
Episode 10:
Geeze, Jacob smothers one person and he’s already losing it.
Yes. Not awkward at all with Emma. Not. Awkward. At. All.
I am charmed to see they’re playing up how much getting shot in a bullet proof vest hurts.
Being asked by the boss to forgive Emma after he slept with her? So not awkward. Your (no homo) gay lover, murdered by you, showing up as a hallucination to tell you what your subconscious thinks of Emma deserting you both? Also totally not awkward.
So they know the evil killer people are coming but now is a good time for a relationship talk?
Aw, and now the hallucination of Paul is going to watch Jacob get busy with Emma. Also not awkward. Well Jacob, at least in your fantasies you’re an awesome stabby murderer.
Aaaand then some other stuff happened but I kind of didn’t care any more because I took Nyquil. I have lost my murderous threesome and therefore my motivation.
This has been an exciting few days for me. First of all, this happened (I’ll post more about that on Monday but omg bweeeeeee). And then I’ve been keeping an eye on the amazing British Film Documentary ladies, who are currently in London and having fabulous adventures. The project is something I’m incredibly enthused about I’ve thrown in some financial support already and will be doing so more once I have (you know) that real job thing.
But even more, damnit I just wish I was in London. I love that city to bits every time I get to bounce through, and I never get to stay long enough. (For the record, you also have no idea how much I adore Brighton.) More than that, the crew there is awesome, creative, and incredibly funny. I can’t wait to see the work they’ve done, that’s for certain. It’s all ridiculously exciting.
The one mean twist of the internet – you get to talk to incredible people and then they’re just too far away to do something mundane like share a pint. You can only dance in place like a toddler that’s eaten half a package of oreos and wait to see how things develop. It’s a bizzare feeling of helpless excitement.
Comes the Huntsman is a story that’s still incredibly special to me (and not incidentally the story I wrote in 2012 for Tom Hiddleston’s birthday – my ‘Hiddlestory’ if you will). I donated the $105 payment I received for it to UNICEF.
So today, in celebration of taking first place, here’s what I did:
Thank you to everyone who read and everyone who voted! I’ll try to keep making good art!
So apparently the high-quality commentary you’ve come to expect from this blog has been replaced by me just posting trailers for terrible films.
No really. That’s hilarious. The dystopian straw man political party have the worst slogan I have encountered. “When WE provide for every need, YOU are fully developed.” It does not exactly roll off the tongue. The creepy old white guy that heads up the fake political party should really fire his slogan writer.
Adorably overwrought synthesized score? Check.
Oblique and inappropriate references to the Hunger Games? Check.
Symbol that could easily be mistaken for advertisement for the Olympics? Check.
Ronald Reagan quote? Check. Oh how very check.
This does win for most sinister use of QR codes, however. So there’s that.
I’d like to think that the “we just become passive people waiting in lines” is a witty jab at the British and their professional-level queuing skills, but I honestly cannot look at this and imagine its makers possessed the necessary cultural awareness for that level of irony.
This is supposedly the trailer for a longer film. I want to see it. I want to liveblog it. Yea though it has the potential to cause facepalm-induced brain damage, I am drawn to bad movies like a moth to the flame. (And then I sit down and watch them and keeping thinking, “What the fuck is wrong with me.” Seriously guys I need help.)
All right, I’m coming back for more. Same rules as usual, I’ll be updating the liveblog every five minutes or so. Unfortunately if you want to play at home, I can’t help you at the moment. I’m watching part two on the DVR.
I know you’re terribly sad to be missing this.
WHEN LAST WE LEFT OUR INTREPID ACTORS, a volcano had just erupted because compressed magma (argh what even) and oil look EXACTLY THE SAME to their bullshit made-up technology. And now the entire world might explode because as we know, all volcanoes are actually connected, which is why every time a volcano erupts, every other one in the world does as well. (Wait, that’s not how it works?)
Oh, and the Yellowstone caldera is apparently now part of the Ring of Fire, which is news to everyone except for Dr. Cooper, the hot geologist with an aneurysm that is bad enough to be a dramatic plot device but apparently not bad enough to warrant emergency surgery.
The question is more literally “How much is your writing worth?” but since art is in effect a piece of you that you have offered for the consumption of others, I think it’s a fair question.
And if you’re a reader of fiction, you should pay attention to. Practices that hurt writers will ultimately hurt readers, in a myriad of ways. We depend on each other.
What really pisses me off about this entire thing is that it blatantly targets new, struggling writers. Because we’re desperate, and we may not understand how precious our rights are, and which rights we should expect to retain as a matter of course. As a new, struggling writer, I know how tempting it can be to grab at any offer that will get your book in print somehow, because then you get to feel like a real writer. Trying to get published sucks. It involves constant rejection. It involves waiting for immense periods of time just so someone can tell you no over and over again. It’s fucking depressing. And I know that the opportunity to escape that cycle of rejection can feel like someone’s thrown you a rope when you’re drowning.
Only sometimes, the rope is the tail of a poisonous snake. Or a hydra. (See what I did there?)
You ultimately have to ask yourself what is my work worth? Ask yourself what am Iworth?
I can tell you right now, your work is worth more than giving up all of your rights and paying for the privilege of seeing your name on the cover of an ebook. You and your work are worth enough that you should not be paying production costs. You and your work are worth enough that you should not have every single right stripped from you for the full term of copyright. You’re worth way more than that. And your friends who are writers are worth more than that too. So tell them to avoid these imprints. Tell them it’s a bad deal. Tell them that in publishing, money should never come from the author, and we have to fight to keep it that way.
You are worth putting up with the rejection until you get a good yes. I know how it is, man. I’d do just about anything to get one of my novels in print. But I wouldn’t do this, because my work is mine, it’s me, and I’m a financial gravity well toward which money flows.
