burnt out, bummed out, and just out

Have written to page 113, four chapters in of Light-year Lion (#lion girl), which is Book 4 in The Prince of Qorlec (#girl prince).

I barely got any writing done. I usually average about thirty pages a day — meaning, I write one chapter a day because the goal with every chapter is 30 pages.

I didn’t get many written today. Maybe ten. Today was just not a happy day. I write more when I’m happier and not distracted by anything else.

I think Light-year Lion might be longer than the other books because the lore has been expanded, there are more characters, so more POV chapters, and Quinn’s journey to build an army is something that will come into play in Book 5, which right now is called Moon Fire. So to set the stage for all that, Book 4 might have to be long. Which means it’ll take longer to write.

Right now I’ve finally gotten to the part where Quinn is about to escape Vorgvon, the detainment prison for entirian prisoners on Kahz. It’s gonna be a fun chapter to write. We get a robot in this book (again) only this time the robot is on the protagonist’s side.

This book is also a little more heartbreaking, as even more characters die.

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from my ancestors with love

Last night I had a very weird, hellish dream in which I was stuck in a classroom with two of the biggest bullies from my highschool.

They weren’t the only bullies by far, but they were the ones who hurt me the most when I was a kid. It was a pretty horrible school, where everyone — even some of the teachers — joined in the bullying.

The dream felt like being taken back there, only in a college setting.

After being humiliated by a very mean girl, I put my head down on my desk and was very sad. Putting my head down was actually part of the game we were playing in class. Those who didn’t answer questions right had to put their heads down, so they weren’t chosen again.

My teacher noticed that I was upset and I was surprised when she came to me, put her head down next to mine, and expressed sympathy and concern. It was bizarre to me. In real life, no teacher ever cared about me or that I was being bullied. Perhaps if they had, perhaps if just one person had showed me any kindness, my life would have been vastly different.

The professor in my dream said a few very peculiar things. She told me she had been watching me a long time (as in all my life — very strange) and that I had a great laugh. She spoke like a family member, like someone who loved me (though she actually looked nothing like me). When I complained miserably about the bullies, she told me I could change things, which was — again — bizarre.

I suddenly realized I was dreaming and pulled myself out for fear it would become a nightmare.

There are many cultures in which people believe their ancestors watch over them from a spirit world, providing comfort and guidance. Even Catholics believe this.

I have never believed in anything like this — I mean, how boring would it be to sit around watching your ancestors descendants all the time? But after I woke up, I had the exact feeling that an ancestor, who’d been watching me all my miserable life, felt sorry for me and wanted me to know I was not alone.

The exact feeling.

I am still baffled that she told me I could change things. I think she meant that in a larger sense, as in I could have an impact on people, I could change the world.

That’s insane.

I’m a dot in the grand scheme of things. I don’t matter, not even to the other dots. I already learned a long time ago that no one cares about people like me. People like me don’t even get to be human. 

One thing I always loved about The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings was the message behind it, that message being that even the smallest person can make a difference.

In real life, it’s not like that. In real life, smaller, physically weaker people are oppressed and bullied. We live in a society that mocks and belittles women for not being as physically powerful as men — as if physical power were the only thing a person’s worth should be determined by. (Here’s a hint: a person’s worth is not determined by physical strength.) In fact, it’s so awful, women aren’t even allowed to have power fantasies in fiction. We live in a world where it’s feasible that a tiny hobbit can save an entire world, but not a feminine woman (because women have to be masculine to be worth something, apparently). And god help her if she’s a woman of color, because that’s given as even more inconceivable.

So do I live in a world where I can change things? No. Call me a pessimist, but I don’t believe I do. In fact, there’s an entire system in place to make sure I don’t change things. And it extends into the literary world.

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you tried to hack me? how cute

I’m not going to schedule this post, so it’s going up in real time, out of order with my scheduled posts. I don’t care.

You know that saying “don’t poke a sleeping dragon in the eye?” Yeah. Fuck with me, hackers. We’ll see how this goes for you.

To explain my rambling, someone tried to hack into my old Outlook email. Someone in California. Outlook was kind enough to tell me and I changed my password to something really long and really hard (snort).

This must be the same person who’s been stalking me since I joined Goodreads, trying to scam me out of money with their “book promotion.” I’m guessing they didn’t like it when I told them to fuck off in that old post of mine, so they tried to hack me, in which case they can still fuck off.

In other news, I finished Chapter 5 of The Suns of Anarchy bk3 from PoQ tonight, which is about Thalcu’s imprisonment in a POW camp. She gets separated from Varzo and Mercy, so the next chapter will be about Varzo and Mercy slaving in the prison picking beans and getting whipped and the trouble they get into (right now, some murder is involved).

The side plot I made for the side characters is pretty interesting (at least to me) and I feel kinda crappy that my side characters are still more interesting than Quinn, the friggin main character.

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davidge is a “mary sue” . . . lol

Timestamp — 4/7/2017

I’m writing this post with the assumption most people know what a mary sue is. If you don’t, check out this post that sums it up better than I can . . .

Why the Concept of the Mary Sue has BECOME Sexist

So a couple weeks ago, I was watching one of my favorite sci fi films Enemy Mine (I would still love to read the book one day) and I got to the part at the end, and it occurred to me that Davidge winning the day all by himself was really, really unlikely, especially after all the evidence we had previously been presented of him being a shitty soldier.

I’m not trashing this film because I love it and I honestly don’t care if Davidge is a “mary sue.” The fact of the matter is, most male protagonists are easily “mary sues” because they are power fantasies specifically built for a male audience to self-insert.

The “mary sue” crap became sexist because misogynists decided to use it as a way to mock women for doing the same thing.

Sometimes I wonder if my books benefit from the fact that I tend to avoid creating power fantasy characters. I enjoy writing characters so real, they could live next door to you.

Rigg from The Thieves of Nottica is not a power fantasy but was meant to be a realistic person (setting aside the alien shapeshifting) who still triumphs in the end and beats the odds.  The same goes for Thalcu in The Harvest, and pretty much all my characters.

And I wonder if this is a good thing or a bad thing because most people read genre fiction to escape and, therefore, expect to be able to self-insert themselves on power fantasy protagonists.

Ah well. I don’t write to please, I write what I want.

This post is about how I came to the conclusion that Davidge is actually a “mary sue” — or at least would be called such if male characters were ever criticized on the same level as female characters.

Before proceeding, turn your sarcasm detector on. Is it on? You’ll need it for the rest of this post.

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Rick and Morty S3 Premiere Was Fucking Awesome

So I just sat down and watched the Rick and Morty season 3 premiere (by the way, this is currently my favorite show ever) and you know how everyone — including myself — spent the last few years hypothesizing that Rick’s motivation was to avenge his dead family?

Back in 2014-15ish I made this long rambling internet post about how I believed Rick had actually lost his original family and come to the current family from a different timeline, taking the place of another dead Rick. Thus, Beth thought he had been “gone for years” never dreaming that he was, in fact, dead and that the Rick who showed up was an imposture.

I even went so far as to guess that the original Rick died in the intergalactic war and lost his family (Beth, Summer, baby Morty). Not on this blog, though. Somewhere else.

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what makes that silly ol’ ant think she can move that rubber tree plant?

(4/1/2017 — Timestamp From A Bygone Era)

Everyone knows an ant. Can’t. Move a rubber tree plant! But she’s got hiiiiiiigh hopes.

The other day I noticed a forum thread on goodreads where people were talking about series vs. standalone books.

Whenever I write a series, I always try to write it in such a way that a reader could pick up any book in the series and enjoy the story without having read the other six or seven books. I’ve learned to do this after writing free series for people to read online and constantly receiving emails that went “Man, your series is HUGE. How do I read it? Where do I start?”

After realizing the error of my ways, I learned to write each book in a series as a standalone novel . . . or at least I try. Right now, a person could pick up The Harvest and read through what I’ve written so far (and hopefully enjoy it) without having to have read Project Mothership. And hopefully, The Harvest was so entertaining that they will want to read PM and every other book in the series.

That’s all I can hope for. But I’ve got moderately high hopes. The glass is half-full. Etc.

Did some brainstorming last night and wound up outlining six books for my series The Prince of Qorlec. I wanted seven but I think six is the magic number.

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