Sensitive Schmucks: or how I learned to stop worrying and just be offensive

I recently saw an article about Sensitivity Readers and what they mean for the publishing ecosystem. According to Writing in the Margins, "A sensitivity reader reads through a manuscript for issues of representation and for instances of bias on the page. The goal of a sensitivity reader isn’t to edit a manuscript clarity and logic, although that may be an additional service offered. A sensitivity reader reviews a manuscript for internalized bias and negatively charged language." Essentially they are word aggression police. They will help your characters be less offensive to a broad readership. They will also help uncover stereotypes and marginalizations that may exist in your narrative. They are here to help us poor writers who just don't know any better. 

Fuck them.

I know we live in an eggshell world comprised of social justice zealots and trigger warnings but isn't writing supposed to be an escape from that world? My characters use harmful slurs, my characters think in stereotypes. They're flawed and ugly. Bitter and broken. My bad guys rape and murder and whisper things that make me extremely uncomfortable to write. Even my YA writing is squick-worthy. 

But wouldn't I reach a larger crowd if I kept the overall voice of the narrative just a little less offensive? 

Do I care? If my book has any merit, it'll reach the people who need to read it. So what if someone's offended. In fact, wouldn't it be worse if no one was offended? I write about theocracies that degrade and humiliate women. Please be offended! This is horrible. I write about people who molest and harm children. I write characters who are assassins who value money above human life. I write people who struggle to be decent and fail, fail, fail. So they're going to think, say, and feel horrible things. So go on. Feel something. Be angry. Be angry at the story, at the writing, at the writer, at the barbed-wire world all around us hidden under everyone's niceties and social gloss. Be angry because somewhere in the world there's a woman who has to wear an anti-rape tube inside her vagina for when, not if, she gets violated. Be angry because the best we could do for presidential candidates was Tweedle-dee or Tweedle-dum. 

I'm not saying don't wince at the N word. I'm not saying go out and be rude. I'm not saying use "faggot" when you want to call something "stupid." I hate that. It's very offensive to me. Which is why I continue to use it in my writing. It's why some of my characters marginalize women. It's why some of my characters think foreigners are evil. It's why some of my foreigners really are. 

If we tame our narrative to the standards of social justice, then we're cheating ourselves. And, worse than that, we're cheating our characters. In the example from the article a character thought to himself that it would be easier for girls to come out as lesbian than for boys to come out as gay because everyone seems to like lesbians. This apparently was very offensive. Sure, in the real world, it is offensive because it's bullshit that one should be more accepted than the other. But in the book, why should the author have to change her fucking character's personal thoughts just to downplay an incorrect social assumption?

Perhaps a character says something offensive that you the writer hadn't intended to be offensive. Well, unless it's a legitimate typo on the author's part, I'd say your character just told you something about himself, and you should listen and expand on that. The straight choir director calls the Altos the "Flaming Lips" as a joke. You as the writer are innocently trying to reference the musical group, but your reader understands some form of latent homophobia. Play. That. Shit. Up. Your straight little choir director just became a lot more flawed, a lot more interesting, and a much better character. Not a better person, mind you, but definitely a better character.  

During my MFA, Sterling Watson shared one of his many mantras, "Make it worse. Make it hot." If you've got a racist character, then let him be racist. Make it as horrible for your character as it is for your reader. Make your reader feel something. The sensitivity reader would have us objectively portraying difficulties between characters without allowing the inner voice to dip into the crude sludge that shapes the human condition. I would use the sensitivity reader for one thing: seek thee out all of my offensive bullshit so that I may pour gasoline on it and watch people lose their fucking minds. 

"I am not afraid that the book will be controversial, I'm afraid it will not be controversial." ~ Flannery O'Conner

Here's to the Death of 2016

Happy New Year everyone. And I'm so glad it is a new one. 2016 was made of suck. In true Hannah and Amanda form we have yet to send out cards and letters. These are coming, I promise. They may arrive in July but, much like the ukes in Sensitive Pornograph, they are definitely coming. 

2016 took so many people and pets from us all. And it didn't leave without a fight. In the last week I managed to cut myself nice and deep on my thumb (new knife for Christmas doesn't leave one wanting!) and break all my nails. They are my natural nails and I'm used to the longer ones occasionally meeting with a jagged death but not all fucking ten nails at once. I look like... like... someone who cuts their nails. It's horrendous I tell you! 

But not all of the end was bad. There was a spontaneous Hobbit extended editions marathon one day. And Yule was made of ash, mead, reindeer fur, and three lone souls bearing witness to the birth of the new sun after the longest night. And what a sun it is! We've had some beautifully sun shiny days. Cold as fuck but sunny at least. 

Looking forward to the future: Hannah and I are going to start writing 6 hours a week. That's the minimum that Brander Sanderson, the author of the Mistborn series) prescribes his students in his college writing class. I think 6 is fair and more than doable. I think I shall start with a short story and then return to Death Man. I need to finish that so that I can do two things: send it out and get on my life! Haha. I feel trapped by my desire to make it perfect, but I keep forgetting what my first MFA mentor told me and that is - it will never be perfect. There will always be a sentence you wish you could tweak or a phrase that you want to go back and hash over again and again. In short, you will never be finished writing. You're never finished composing. But there comes a point when the book itself is finished with you. And that's where I need to be. And soon. 

There's a wolf moon coming up and I would like to greet the full moon in her splendor with wolf howls in the night. I remember last year's Wolf Moon and want to relive the energy though in a much more contained way. The aspect of wolf I want to explore this year is the cunning and sly aspect, the clever watcher from the shadows. I want to embrace those shadows for all the secrets and knowledge that may lie within. 

In other news: the two kitties are getting along remarkably well. They tolerated/cuddled on the same cat bed last night for four hours. However, Narcisa it seems is feeling very under the weather. She's thrown up (very tiny amounts) twice this week and this cat never throws up. I mean she's a rock solid warrior princess, she ain't got time for that shit! Yet she's thrown up twice that we know about and her voice is ragged and scratchy. That may be a result of all the hissing she threw at Thorin when he first came to live here but I think she's caught a cold or something. We're taking her to the vet on Thursday because we're paranoid mommies and don't want to just say "Oh, she'll get over it on her own" because what if she doesn't? What if she suffers for our negligence? So to the vet she goes.

August Break: My hands and Clouds

So I did manage to get my fingernails all painted different colors today. Technically this was supposed to be for yesterday but I got distracted working on the Bowie room and actually made some headway oh David's lovely little shrine. So I did two August Breaks today and a Tarot draw. First up, my hands. Behold the pasty white Scottish girl.

The second August Break was supposed to be Clouds but I went a little different direction and decided to photograph the cake my mother made for my Aunt and Uncle's 40th Wedding Anniversary and vow renewal. The cake was amazing and the ceremony was so lovely. My Aunt and Uncle were pretty much walking on clouds so... I feel this cake totally works for the prompt. (Sooo many pictures of the cake. Because cake is important!)

My aunt and uncle had their grand-kids fill this bottle with different colored sand during the ceremony to represent their growing family surrounding the rocks at the bottom (the foundation of my aunt and uncle). It was really neat. 

For tarot today I used the Stone Tarot by Alison Stone who is a fellow Graduate from Pine Manor College's Solstice Creative Writing MFA Program. She graduated before I started there. I purchased the deck the second or third time I was in Boston for school. During residencies the Solstice peeps sell books from Writer's in Residence, current and past staff, and also any publications from students past and present, so I was able to get Alison's deck right there at the school. I bought the deck for Hannah because I didn't think I was into Tarot back then. But uh... yeah, as evident by the posts this month, I rather enjoy my tarot and oracles. 

My card is the one in the upper left hand corner. The Eight of Wands: completion, haste, speed, and boldness.

So I'm not really surprised that I drew a want. I'm a little surprised that it was a repeat of the Eight of Wands that I just drew about four days ago. Obviously I need so spend some time really thinking about the meaning of this card. I think the first word says it all though: completion. I need to finish the things I started whether that is pertaining to my creativity, my home life (cleaning), or my work load and goals. I need to see things through the end and pick a project and finish it.

Silverwood, Sherman Alexie, Impromtu Idaho

Two weekends ago the twins came up from Moscow and we had a really great time. I didn't get to do anything for them on their birthday in March so instead, we all went to Silverwood with my mom and we spent the day looking at all the cute little shops, riding many of the rides (Corkscrew, Timber Terror, Tremors, Panic Plunge, Tilt-a-Whirl, Roundup, and the wave pool of Boulder Beach Bay), and relaxing. We enjoyed tea and coffee at the Victorian Coffee House and while sitting outside under a tree, were blessed with a view of hundreds upon hundreds of bumble bees buzzing around the blooms of the tree. It was a nice scene. Lots of walking (over five miles!). Lots of people playing Pokemon Go. 

When we got back to my place, Hannah was cooking us a nice meal. The twins and I decided to run to the hot tub and soak for a bit since we were sun burnt and sore. While there I took off my engagement ring and the ring of Hannah's that I'd been wearing for the past ten or so months. I set them beside the hot tub and forgot them when we all left a bit later. I remembered pretty quickly that I'd left them and rushed no more than twenty minutes later but the rings were already gone. I'm trying to get my apartment managers to watch the footage and help me track down my rings but I don't really think they give a shit. Meh. I'm angry at myself for losing the rings and trying to make it a lesson against materialism. Except... it was one of Hannah's rings that I lost too. And that one is the one I'm really sad about losing. 

That week at work, a few things happened. Firstly, we finished moving our department from the lobby level to the third level. It's going to take some time to adjust I think, but so far I like it. Not sure what the future holds for me right  now, but I'm going to just embrace impermanence and live in the now. Right now I have A, B, and C. I won't worry D until D comes to pass. Nothing lasts forever and all we really truly have are the moments happening this instant. 

And speaking of nothing lasting forever, on Thursday, my supervisor's father passed away. I guess technically he entered a vegetative state. I'll know more about all of that later but for now, my heart really goes out to my supervisor. She is a very sweet person and a total daddy's girl. I cried for her the night after I heard about what she's going through. That same day, another coworker learned that her mother's cancer had come back. So it was not a good day for a lot of us. I was in a funk. That night I went to Stitch and Witch feeling distant and weird and it made Hannah really upset that I was so out of it. Once I got in there though and did some shitty coloring (and oh man was it shitty!) I felt a bit better. Also I got to see my favorite Free Mason there and he did a neat Tarot Name reading for me. I love hearing him talk about the Tarot and love his kind, soft energy. I'm really glad he came to Stitch and Witch and I hope he keeps coming. 

On Friday, as I walked to work from the Plaza stop, I saw a sign outside the Bing Crosby theatre announcing that Sherman Alexie would be reading there that night. So instantly, my Friday night plans were made. I had Hannah meet me downtown after work. We grabbed a quick shitty meal at McDonald's and then saddled up for the show/reading. It was exactly what I needed. Brought back all the good memories of the MFA program and restored in me some of my old passion for the written word. I've been very depressed and lackluster about writing lately but seeing Sherman, listening to him, watching him move and engage the crowd. Getting his signature. It was a great evening. That night I slept pretty well. Satisfied after spending the evening with Sherman Alexie. And it was good that I slept well because I was wearing an oxygen tester on my index finger. It's the first step to finding out if part of my overall health and attention issues are due to sleep apnea. I don't want to have sleep apnea, but if I do have it, I want to be treated immediately. I want my energy back!

The next day, Hannah, Fiona and I all went to the Perry Street Fair. I went mainly for the Buddhist Temple Open House but it was fun to see all the vendors and feel the creative energy. Unfortunately I was already starting to get sick so I didn't get quite as excited and inspired as usual when I go to things like these. However, there was a strange and endearing moment: Hannah had left me for the car and Fiona was up the road checking out the rest of the vendors and I had managed to find myself in a little throng of people watching a street magician. He was wearing all orange and had a dry, understated sense of humor that really worked for him. I love magic shows. I know there is a trick to it... I know that there is some kind of mechanical answer to every mystical feat but I don't fucking care. Bring on the illusion and deception and the magic! This orange street magician was pretty fun. At one point he nailed a giant nail into his nasal cavity and this he told us wasn't actually a magic trick, that it was a carnival thing and then he kept starting and stopping so much that his audience was about to have a heart attack. A tall man beside he grabbed my arm and asked if it was okay if he clung to me during the trick. I said yes. So we watched and sure enough the man hammered the nail straight into his head via the sinus. It was so weird and I loved it. 

By Saturday night I was feeling pretty goddamn awful health-wise. It felt like I was getting bronchitis, you know... like I always do. And so I drank lots of fluids, took 1000 units of Vitamin C and headed to bed at about 9 or so. But it was awful and I couldn't sleep. Finally close to 3AM I texted my boss telling her I wasn't sure if I was going to make it. I did get about an hour and a half of sleep before dragging my ass into work. I kept a running dialogue with my boss via text. She was checking up on me, making sure I was doing okay. Well I survived the work day and then drove home. Only I was so out of it that I passed my Pines exit. Passed three other exits. Passed Liberty Lake. And then saw a "Welcome to Idaho" sign. Apparently my sick brain had decided to go to my parent's house for a while. 

So I went to see my Dad, my Mom was at my Aunt's house. And Dad took care of me, put me to bed, brought me tea, patted my back during a coughing fit. Ellie Bellie, the black Persian, also played the Nurse. She kept curling up with me in the bed. I maybe got another hour of sleep before I couldn't take laying flat anymore. Dad was so cute. He was going to pull out more chicken from the freezer so that I could stay for dinner but I told him I had to be getting back so Hannah wouldn't worry about me. He managed to make me stay longer, however, by tempting me with a corndog. But after the corndog, and the microwaved quesadilla, and the coffee, and more Ellie cuddles, and conversation about how horrible people are (we were watching the News), Dad finally let me go.

That evening while watering the pumpkin plant, I found an infant bird. It looked as if it had fallen out of the tree while trying to fly or had somehow been injured. We put in a large box with a towel to keep it comfortable. A friend of ours who knows a bit about birds told us that was the best thing to do. That the parents would come for it later if it was meant to live. The next morning it was dead. 

She was an Old Soul

Her laugh, her voice, her words all spoke of something ephemeral and pure. She was all or nothing, a tome of fictional truths, a writer, a wife, a mother, a rock star, a wild woman, and a sensitive soul. An old soul. She felt like a child who had lived many, many lives and who had decided, "fuck this shit." She was small and lean with an enormous aura that stretched from some obscure Canadian Islands to the Floridian Peninsula. And she wrote grit. She tapped into her old soul, shucked away all layers of nicety, and wrung blood from the page. Big things. Uncomfortable things. Things that still make me a little uncomfortable. She wrote them all. She didn't have time to fuck around. She had a message. She had a moment. And she used her time to the very end, publishing "Pelee Island Stories" within the last nine months.

She was an old soul. She was so beautiful. She had the beauty and grace and fierceness... the sad, happy eyes half hooded with pleasure and mystery... that only comes from the lessons and loves of life after life after life. So many lives. And why did this one have to be so short? 

Tanya. I know you'll be back here someday in a different life, same soul, same beauty and honesty. New body. New name. You'll share your talents all over again. You'll raise some hell. Maybe raising some more kids. Maybe your next life will be longer. But I doubt there will ever be another life with this many people missing you, grieving you, and celebrating your memory. You left us on May 25th (a few days ago, seconds really, in the grand scheme of things). You were diagnosed with stage IV esophageal cancer on June 5th last year. Thank you for each and every moment you gave us after the diagnosis. Thank you for being there at my last residency and for graduating with me. Thank you for being an old soul, a dear friend, and an amazing and inspiring talent in my life. Peace, friend.

Basic Update, Sandman, On Writing

I did not get the library job for the Spokane County. But there's a library job opening for Coeurd'Alene. So I'm applying to that tomorrow. Also I'm applying for the adjunct pool for North Idaho College. Read some tarot today and basically what I got out of it was that I need to freaking write. Just write! I have so much I need to do. This past month has been busier than anything--people in and out of the house and lots of extra stuff to do--so I'm a bit behind in my packet exchanges with E. Also this month, my friend Faith (which is her writer's nomdeplume) will be visiting. In fact, she's coming tomorrow. We're going to chat and be silly and talk about writing and publishing and all that good stuff. So, I'm hoping that by the time she leaves me the next week, I will be right back on the writing horse and ready to go! 

Recently I've been reading a crap ton of Neil Gaiman's "Sandman." It is quite amazing and I can't wait to read further. Also I'm going to check out "Morning Glory" which my friend recommended to me. In additional to all of this I'm going to read some David Levithan soon. I'm priming myself for publication in Cicada Magazine. I will most likely get a big fat rejection letter from them but I can hope, yes? So I'm doing all I can to get myself in the right mood. I figure, no matter what job I have, if I can actually make money by publishing then I will be living my dream a little and also feel more like I can provide for myself via my craft. And maybe someday... it will be my only job. Not a secondary job, not a side thing, not something I squeeze in between the day-to-day shifts. I would love that. So here's hoping for getting some shit out there soon.

In other news, I threw a few fits over the change to Windows 10. Probably I'll end up liking it, but dealing with the big change from 8.1 to 10 during a damn project was not fun. I'm working on the thank you notes for those who celebrated my graduation with me, as well as sending special and personalized notes to my mentors and directors at Solstice. I also need to work on a letter of recommendation for my friend who is applying. I have so much writing I need to do! It's exciting but a tad overwhelming. While my friend is here, she is going to be attending a conference for sci-fi writers. While she's busy with that, I'm thinking Hannah and I need to spend some time together (we've sort of lost touch with each other the last few months like ships passing in the night so to speak), and also do some serious writing, Loving the Stephen King book "On Writing" right now. And he says that the only thing you can't take lightly is the actual writing, He's right. I need to sit down and take every moment of it seriously. It is a blessing and a curse. I am ready to enjoy the telepathy of writing and finally reach my audiences.

Starting to submit to Literary Magazines

I'm sprucing up "Woman of After" and going to send it off to three different places later tonight. I am researching and trying to be a good bunny and know exactly what this magazines like to publish but I also know that a second person POV piece will either get me an automatic "no thanks" or a nice long look. So it's a crap shoot. All submitting is a crap shoot. I want to start getting my rejection notes. I have a goal of ten by Christmas. So here goes! I'll have to make a folder for them once they start rolling in. In the mean time I've found a few amazing websites and resources to help me out on this journey and I wanted to share a few of those here.

• Duotrope - a database of literary and genre magazines which highlights periods of open submission as well as if they accept simultaneous submissions. Amazing information. Highly recommended by faculty and mentors of my Grad program. To get the full benefit of this site you have to subscribe. It's $5 a month or $50 a year. Worth every penny in my opinion and I've only just scratched the surface of what this site has to offer.
• The Review Review - I haven't spent much time here yet but I learned about it during a class at Solstice. From what I understand they review various publications and are a great resource to consider when getting ready to start submitting. Their blog is great, too. I found this page to be particularly helpful: What Editors Want.
• Neon - this is actually a site for the Neon Literary Magazine but I found a tremendously helpful blog here about "How to Submit," which gave me a link to an excellent and easy to understand description and example of the format for submitting short stories: Proper Manuscript Format.
• New Pages - a site that is also a great way to look up various literary magazines but it also has a section where magazines call for submissions. It's good to keep an eye on this site because submission openings come and go pretty quickly in the literary world as it turns out.

I've got my Masters, but the Journey is far from over!

The Residency was an emotional roller-coaster. For the most part it was exceptionally uplifting. But those were tempered by moments of great sadness. I will miss the family I've made at Solstice. I know they are still my sisters and brothers and I already have plans to see some of them again in the near future, but distance is difficult. And expectation is difficult. All four of my mentors were at this residency and they all four built me up in different ways. I am still in awe of some of the things that they said to and about me. Sandra in particular was tremendously supportive. She wants me to keep emailing her with my progress, letting her know where I am in terms of getting something out there. I'm at the point where the novel has turned into three novel and given me a larger scope through which to reveal all the delightful little secrets of my world. So I'm a bit overwhelmed you might say. And also nervous about the future.

One of my dear Solstice sisters has advanced cancer. I'm caught between eagerness for her to get her book published and create something immortal in her wake, and a fear to put any pressure on her at all. I want her to fight this beast. I want her to get better. Have a remission. Live another year. Love her family and enjoy each and every minute she has left on this earth. But I so want her to publish. Because I know that her time on this earth is running out very quickly. The odds are not in her favor and by this time next year the world may no longer have her in it. And this thought makes me shudder. I want her book out there so I can touch it and read it and love her in this sweet special way. She is a writer, which is to say her soul is a writer's soul and I hope, very much, that she will find a way to negotiate the drive of her heart and the needs of her writer's soul with the time she has left. I won't barrage her with 'my sympathy' but I will remind her whenever I can, that she is loved and that her work is necessary. 

My return to real life is proving to be a bit of a challenge. And in light of my dear friend's struggles, I feel guilty for each and every complaint. I am bitter over a coworker's constant need to try and exchange dates. I am upset that my car door will not open any more. I'm sad that I love my job yet must seek another one to make ends meet. I'm moody because the sunlit hours are growing shorter and shorter. I'm overwhelmed because I have bills to pay, a cat to groom, a room to clean, car tags to renew, a doctor's appointment to make, and people who need me when I'm not ready to be needed. But I also have good things. I have friends and I have my Hannah. One of my friends is going to keep doing packet exchanges with me to keep me writing. Another friend took Hannah and me out to lunch today and gave me a check for a lot of money as a graduation present. My cousin is coming to visit in a couple of weeks. And a Solstice sister is coming a few weeks after that. Another friend of mine is going to apply to Solstice and I'm so happy for her! And Hannah and I are going to write and submit and really push to get our writing lives started. 

The good with the bad, the beginning of this journey has been intense. I have to work tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to it. But that's because what I really want to do is meditate for an hour then write a crap ton of cover letters to various literary magazines and get some of my crap out there. My goal is to have ten rejection letters by the new year. And who knows? Maybe one of those letters won't be a rejection. Still, I'll celebrate like hell if I get ten. That will prove to me that I'm a member of the writing community. That I've joined the literary conversation. And that's what getting an MFA was all about. 

New Happenings in the Facets of My Life

I'm sitting here in a mild panic waiting to embark on the final leg of my graduate school career. So much has happened in the past month and so much is going to happen in the following month that I feel the best way to tackle this info-dump is through a list. And to make it even more palatable, I've divided it into Spiritual Life, Fictional Life, and Real Life. There may be some overlap as my fictional life typically overruns my real one.

Spiritual Life:

• Went to the annual camp out for the IEPG (Inland Empire Pagan Guild). This years theme was Hammered with the Heathens and we did get a bit hammered here and there. But when we weren't drinking, we had a great time interacting with friends in the community and trying new things, Such as: I led my very first ritual! It was my first time writing and leading. We performed a Nightmare Banishment Ritual with a My Little Pony twist to it. I actually had a wonderful time leading it and the feedback that I've received has all been positive. Already I'm excited to lead some more rituals in the future.
• Saw two Handfastings at the camp out! Both rituals were renewals of handfasting vows and intentions but they were both lovely and gave Hannah and me some ideas about our own future handfasting.
• Woke with the sun one morning and greeted the day. Saw a sea hawk nest complete with babies!
• Hannah and I have been asked if we are interested in joining the Pagan Ministry Council and both of us have said yes! We are going to submit our pleas for consideration to the full IEPG group sometime this week. If it doesn't work out that I am able to take part in the council, that's fine. I'm still gearing up for future rituals and classes. This is a great community and I will be part of it in any way I can be.

Fictional Life:

• In Dungeons and Dragons with the neighbors my character has finally gotten his memory back and, I was correct, he is indeed a prince! All sorts of crazy questing is happening right now and Hannah's character is starting to catch feelings for the irreverent 'live for the moment' barbarian. We'll see how that plays out. He has never had a real relationship before, not even a real friendship. Or at least not in the past thirty years. So for him this is all very new.
• Been thinking about Death Man a lot recently. I've decided that this November during the National Novel Writer's Month, I'm going to try and finish up some more of the draft as well as begin serious plotting for the overall structure which, I reckon, will be quite a bit different than it is right now.
• Working on finishing homework for the final leg of the residency. I want to really spruce up the stories that I submitted for workshop and maybe submit one of them for a magazine at some point. But the other piece is the first chapter to a novel. So that might be my future project for next year. We'll see how Death Man goes. So many novels, so little time. I must manufacture some time. 
• Been doing a little role-playing again in the past couple of weeks. Very little. Just a post here and there or maybe a couple a day when we're on a roll. But it's like a little treat to reward me for being good and abstaining from it for so long whilst finishing school. I am not going to let the RP take over my life, but I am going to enjoy the hell out of it as long as it doesn't interfere with other responsibilities including the November goal with my novel. Basically right now, the RP is a total excuse for vampire and werewolf conflict, lots of blood, and the fun in creating new rules for old supernatural entities. And I'm sure at some point there'll be sex. (If they all don't die first!)

Real Life:

• Had a lovely graduation party at my aunt's club house. Lots of my friends were there as well as a decent grouping of family. I made a little over $200 dollars from cards and well-wishers and that is basically going to feed me on my trip. The party was great because it was a pool party and that is the first time I've ever thrown one of those. It was certainly hot enough to merit it!
• SCOTUS! Finally a move in the right direction for this country. This year, for the first time in a long time, I'm proud to be an American. Hooray for marriage equality and boo on all the haters who truly believe that equal civil rights for all will somehow destroy the fabric of existence. In the words of Taylor Swift: the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, but I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake. Shake it off!
•  Got a surprise graduation mini-party at work. On Monday, when I arrived for the early morning meeting, I was greeted with a cake, a card full of monies, and a sign that said "Congrats Amanda." It was such a sweet gesture! 
• I'm on the hunt for a new job. Which is very bittersweet because despite the occasional drama at the bra shop, I really do love this job and the gals who work there. But it's time for me to get something that can provide for me and my mate while we continue to work on our fictional and spiritual lives. Today I'm finishing a cover letter and application for the Newspaper in Spokane. Wish me luck with it!
• Getting ready for the Residency. Homework, finalizing my class that I get to teach, and pretty much stressing about it on all levels. 

Creative Thesis is Done!

Tonight I sent in 130 pages in PDF format to be bound as my Creative Thesis. I cannot believe that I'm here. I truly cannot believe that I am graduating. This last semester was truly awful for me. I'm the reason it was awful. I let depression and insecurity following my illness in January, really destroy my drive and ambition. By the time I should have been editing a full manuscript I was still trying to compose and figure out the rest of the first part. So I figured I would NOT be graduating. I figured that I had wasted everyone's time. I'd wasted my mentor's time. Her energy and her effort. I'd wasted it all. But she didn't let me throw in the towel. In fact she got down right mean about it! Which is what I needed. Back when she first became my mentor I handed her over a metaphorical whip and said, go for it. Hit me with this whip until I feel it in the marrow of my bones. And in the end that's exactly what it took. I descended into the Great Below and was reborn. That might seem a pretty intense metaphor for graduating an MFA program, but that's exactly how it has felt. 

Tonight I'm turning in my end of semester evaluation. And then all I have left is to figure out the logistics and prepare for the residency classes. I'm frustrated because there's a new law in Massachusetts saying that all students have to have health insurance. Which wouldn't be such a big deal except that they want to charge me over $200 for the ten days I'm there in July. So I'm trying to figure out what to do about that, but aside from this little snafu I am just about ready. I have work tomorrow but then have a three day stretch. I'm going to get as much done for the residency as possible. I want to be able to relax in June when I go on the IEPG camping trip. After I get back from the residency I'm going to be applying for a new job. Also I'm going to bust my hump getting into a writing routine. Sandra has faith in me that I really can get published. And I'm starting to maybe have some faith in myself as well. Right now I feel like I have a world of possibilities opened up before me. So we'll just see what happens. In the mean time, I know for a fact that I am going to graduate and I'm letting this knowledge warm me up in a way I haven't felt in a long time.

Books, Books, and More Books!

Editing. That is what I have left for the intense part of the semester. Well and a little writing still. Which I'm going to work on a bit tonight. Basically I need to edit my annotated bibliography, my synopsis, and the last of the actual thesis. And then I'll be done with that part and can move onto the next bit which includes all the good stuff for the residency. I am excited for my class on dystopian world building and I'm really excited to get there and take some amazing classes with the people I've come to know and love. Also I have the best fucking ever wardrobe for this summer. I cannot wait to show it all off! My buddy, E, and I will be chic twins! 

I'm still incredibly sad that Hannah cannot go with me. I had hoped to make it work but financially it just isn't going to happen. But I am going to Skype with her a few times so I can at least introduce her to some of the people there. Especially M. I am very excited to see M. 

Something that's been taking up a great deal of my time lately has been reading. In the past week alone I've read four books. I can't believe it. I'm in a reading kick and I can't eat enough! Including a few more from the week before I've read:

1. The Sumerians by Elaine Landau - the book was a nice summary of the geography and social structure but severely biased by the author's Christian views.
2. Lugalbanda by Kathy Henderson - this was a gorgeous story with amazing illustrations and unlike the first book on the list, this one honored the ancient religion and culture that it detailed. Also this is a retelling of the oldest story ever written - over 4,000 years old!
3. Sexy by Joyce Carol Oates - YA done right. Heartbreaking in some places but in the end it covers everything that a young adult novel is supposed to - including a glimpse of hope.
4. Rape by Joyce Carol Oates - I adore the use of 2nd person POV in selected chapters and I was really surprised by the direction the novel took. And yet I wasn't surprised because Oates laid all the foundation work to guide me to the perfect and inevitable result. Very satisfying.
5. The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly - this book is a great example of bridging between YA and adult fiction. A sort of Narnia for the modern times. Loved the gay soldier.
6. We Were Liars by E. Lockhart - figured it out relatively quickly but that didn't diminish my enjoyment of the novel by any means. I adored the poetic flare of Lockhart's narration.
7. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian - I was drawn to this book for two reasons: 1) it was banned and 2) it takes place on the Spokane Indian Reservation and Reardon, WA. I loved knowing the places that the narrator talks about and I also loved the cartoon snippets throughout the text. Great story filled with truths that only a diary style novel can get away with telling and lamenting. 
8. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - I really enjoyed this book. It can be a bit infuriating at times but the end makes everything so worth it. In fact, if I'm ever having a bad day and need a pick me up, I'll just read the last ten pages. So worth it. 

None of these books are very long, but even still, I finished them all at record speeds for me. I am usually a slow fuddy-duddy reader. Which is why I'm starting to realize that I'm just not meant for adult fiction. At least not meant for it primarily. I feel a draw toward YA and also when I read YA it not only feels right, but it helps me recall and analyze parts of my childhood that I had forgotten or hadn't really processed. In my heart I'm still about fifteen or sixteen and so these books speak strongly to me. No, I'm not still dealing with high school drama or trying to awkwardly figure out the opposite sex (or the same sex as the case may be) but people are people and they are their most beautiful when they are vulnerable. The coming of age stories in the YA I've been reading have all been marvelous. I definitely feel that my mentor and I made the correct choice in making Death Man much more YA than it had previously been. The next projects I am going to work on will also be YA. I just can't get enough of it! Even today at the library I picked up another YA novel. But I'm not going to let myself start it until I finish with all the editing that needs to be done.

So many books. So little time. I'm happy to have found my place. Which is really what YA is all about.

Final Stretch - I'm Gonna Graduate!

So I got the green light from the second reader - but on the condition that I fix the typos in the manuscript before I send it to my Mentor as the final packet and also before I send it to be bound. I'm experiencing a mixture of panic and relief. I want this to be perfect but, dear gods, I'm so freaking tired. Exhausted mentally and physically. I want a break but I don't want to dissolve into a puddle of goo and disappear either. I want to keep working on these projects and eventually write query letters and synopses and treatments and someday, just someday, get a damn book out there. I've been reading like a hungry creature lately (which hasn't helped me get my writing done but it's been very helpful in getting me into the YA mood). I read Sherman Alexie's 'The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian' and E, Lockhart's 'We Were Liars' and also Connolly's 'Book of Lost Things.' And some more Joyce Carol Oates obviously. Because as it turns out I'm a huge fan girl of hers. 

These books have been incredibly wonderful - even when they aren't necessarily pleasant. I have learned so much about pacing and dialogue (things that I was pretty decent with before but always, always, always striving to be better at) and I am excited to incorporate those things into the upcoming workshop pieces for the residency. So far the only things I have left to do: final comb through to fix typos for the Thesis, read a few things for residency, prepare workshop pieces and critique fellow pieces, rehearse my class a few times, and pack all the pretty dresses! Not too bad I suppose. Oh and I also have to register for classes, secure the hotel, finalize plans with my buddy, and send in evaluations. Okay so I still have a lot to do. But I'll get it done. I'm on the home stretch now! I can do it. I really, really can do it!

After a few beers I become emotional...

Maybe just a little bit drunk. Been reading tons lately. I really, really love young adult fiction. I love the pacing, the adventure, the dialogue. All of it. I think I made a mistake not going into YA during my time at Solstice, but if I had done that I might not have met the absolutely amazing fiction writers that I now consider to be my closest of family. I might not have had the mentors I had and would not be writing as I am now (which I do deem to be better than before I joined the program two years ago). I would have still met amazing people and been blessed by their friendship but I feel this was just meant to be in some way. After all, I am the worst horse, (as in the Buddhist proverb worst horse) and I need to do things the hard way, I need to suffer through it, and I need to feel the force of my master's whip through to the marrow of my bones. That way I can know I've truly grown.

Lately I've been reading about Goddesses. I want to find one that I resonate with. I'm on the hunt. I thought it might be Inanna and I'm going to continue my research into her but I am quite taken with the absolute gorgeous compassion of Kuan Yin. She is so selfless and kind - a true goddess to appeal to. Hannah has a Kuan Yin pendant and one time a person tried to tell her it was Buddha. It wasn't. It isn't. It's Kuan Yin. She was a Buddhist nun who turned goddess after she gave her arms and eyes to make her asshole father better from a disease. She grew a thousand arms and a thousand eyes to replace the ones she lost and then became an immortal and perfect presence. I know that the archetypes behind gods and goddesses stem from human traits but Kuan Yin seemed to be better than most humans. Her only hubris was 'disobeying' her father when he gave her unreasonable orders. What a wonderful and kind entity. I need to learn more and more, but for now I'm taking heart in the knowledge that compassion has a name and that is Kuan Yin. 

Student Anthology Submission for Your Enjoyment

This past semester, one of the students with my MFA program started an anthology project for all students and alumni to feature short pieces of work including excerpts, poems, flash fiction, and vignettes. Last time I submitted a short scene from my Dust Bowl novel and this time around I am sending in the beginning segment (almost a prologue I guess) to my creative thesis. I thought I would share it here just for fun and because my mentor, who hates prologues, absolutely loved.

The Lesson

Excerpt from The Death Man

By Amanda LaFantasie

“Isn’t one blade enough. Why do we need three?” he asked.

“The same reason a painter needs more than one brush.” The Death Man ran his finger down along the smooth and perfectly chiseled blood groove of the executioner’s sword. “It all depends on your goal. If you just want to kill a man, you use the ax. If you want to dismember him and decorate the stage with his blood, then you use the machete. But if you want to deliver the kiss of death, you swing this sword through his neck and you give him peace.” He lifted the sword, holding it horizontally before the boy.

Beyond the old man’s window the sky was red with a summer sunset and it cast a crimson hue upon the blade, making it look as if it had drawn blood from the air itself.

“The tip’s broken,” the boy said.

“It’s not broken. It was made this way. Blunt and smooth. This sword was never meant for stabbing. It is a work of art. Light enough to wield with grace yet heavy enough to part skin, muscle, and bone with a single flick of the wrist. And it’s sharp. Hold out your arm.”

The boy did as asked. He knew his mentor would cut him, but all fear of pain had been beaten out of him long ago. Sucking in a breath, almost excited by the promise of blood, he waited. His mentor pressed the blade to his flesh and gave a quick slice. The boy felt nothing.

In silence he examined his arm. His eyebrows drew tight in confusion. There didn’t seem to be a cut.

“Wait for it,” said the Death Man.

A moment passed. As if by magic, a thin beaded line of blood appeared and with it came the first touch of pain, a hot concentrated sting. The boy watched in fascination as the beads grew fat and spilled out from the cut leaving red tributaries on his skin. It was deep, much deeper than he’d first thought. He put his hand on the wound, but it did little to stop the blood from squeezing out and dripping all over his mentor’s floor. But the Death Man didn’t seem to care. About anything.

“Take a man’s head with this blade and he will not suffer. It is a blade reserved only for those who deserve a painless death.”

“And who deserves a painless death?” The boy couldn’t take his eyes off the sword.

“Everyone,” the Death Man replied, and in the same breath he amended, “no one.” He returned the sword to its sheath and set it back on the stand. “Only the beloved of the Luminary are granted such a death.”

“But if they are his beloved then why kill them?” The boy knew he shouldn’t ask so many questions but his mentor was the only person he’d met in a long time who was so willing to answer.

            “Sometimes we have to kill the ones we love.” He pulled a wad of gauze from his medicine bag. “Wrap up your arm. The lesson’s just begun.”

Slow Going, Sick Galen, and Mermaids

These last couple of weeks have been a headache.  I've been applying off and on for about every job I am "qualified" for, been working every weekend at the bra shop as I am the only CA who can work over a five hour shift at the moment, and been spending 4-6 hours every day working on my novel.  I'm exhausted.  The novel work has been intensive and rewarding but so very slow going.  As I read the YA craft book by Regina L. Brooks, I realized that what I had done wrong from the beginning was to start this story without a clear idea of the setting.  The physical setting has developed and evolved over the past year and now that I have it set in stone (with some flexibility as nothing is ever truly set in novel writing) I've had to restart, rewrite, redraft, and revise.  I learned from this mistake and am going to flush out setting prior to drafting the next time I tackle a novel project. So anyway, it's been slow, slow, slow going.  I am not going to have my full amount of pages for the upcoming packet.  I feel bad. 

After being ill and after revising everything and creating a new outlook on the story and plot, I had a hell of a time getting back into the habit of writing everyday.  I'm back!  I've been practically living at the library and Starbucks is my Patron. (By the way, the Caramel Flan Latte is pretty fucking amazing!) This Monday I am going to spend the whole day at the Library again.  Basically I'm hoping to have thirty good pages for my mentor and then send her another thirty as soon as they are ready. If I have to go in chunks of thirty then so be it.  I just want to keep making progress. She's really excited for this novel to come together and so am I. At work today I talked to the new ASM about which characters live and which ones die and her excitement about the relationships between the characters got me very excited. She told me she would love to see my ideas translated on screen. She hasn't read the material but just hearing her say that was very encouraging today.

Galen, our mini-panther, has bronchitis and is taking antibiotics and steroids twice a day. Consequently, my fingers have become pin cushions. Sometimes he takes the pills well and sometimes he chomps down on my fingers like a wild beast! I really hope he shapes up soon. We lost Yoda a little less than a year ago and we're not ready to go through that again. 

For the past few nights, Hannah and I have been reading about mermaids. We rented a book from the library and each night I read a chapter or two aloud as we cuddle in bed getting ready to go to sleep. I learned about the mermaid fakes. Did you know that mermaid (and sea monster creation) fakes were so popular that the fakes themselves have a name? They are called Jenny Hanivers. I immediately felt compelled to someday write a mermaid tale and include a Jenny character who might have a friend named Haniver. The origin of the name is from the French for girls from Antwerp. We've actually learned quite a bit from the mermaid book so far. Tonight we'll finish it and tomorrow we're going to start a kids book about Chinese Folktales called Auntie Tigress.  

Sir Simon, Who Knew?

Knight of Swords

Lift me up, spirits of sky.

Grant me keen sight of Hawk,

swiftness of Sparrow.

Grant me insight of Raven,

brave heartbeat of Hummingbird.

Bear me up with grace on wings of Swan,

guide me with visions of wisdom from Owl.

I had a couple of questions about my character Simon tonight.  I decided to ask my Tarot.  The Shadowscapes Tarot by Pui-Mun Law and Barbara Moore has been a wonderful deck to inspire me for Death Man.  The Two of Swords is Matthias all the way: the stale-mate crossroads, crossed swords, indecision and dread at the outcome of finally making a decision - all of that fits Matthias thematically but also physically.  Matthias is a tall, brooding figure, cloaked as per his profession.  He is mostly cast in mystery and all of that, to me, is perfect for him.  I've always felt this card was Matthias.  Now as for Simon - I've seen him more as the Seven or Nine of Swords.  Both these cards picture younger, lithe male forms riddled with guilt, regret, fear, and even (as in the case of the Seven) willful deception, shirking of responsibility, and a grave mistrust in others.  Yeah, Simon's not a real confident fellow.  

But tonight when I drew for him asking 'why does he want to upset the establishment, what makes him take the step that puts him in the middle of things?' I drew the Knight of Swords.  The Knight is confident and self assured and sharp of wit and weapon.  When I look at this card and think of Simon I see a young man who is smart and who has suffered for that intelligence and who is through with suffering.  He is on his way to create change, who can no longer hide behind assumed ignorance.  I see someone who loves fiercely, who turns sadness into action.  I see Simon.

Two Kinds of Homework, or Books and Svadhishthana

For my MFA homework: I'm writing out the origins of my fucked up little city as well as finally giving myself permission to attack this novel as a YA vehicle. My mentor, while always being positive and encouraging, always takes time to give me excellent reading suggestions so that we are both on the same foot as far as concepts and things to try. A few books she suggested that I really enjoyed are St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves by Karen Russell, Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, and Structuring Your Novel by Robert C. Meredith.  Earlier today I updated by accumulative bibliography (I use Easy Bib online and I love it! So simple!) and added all of my entries together. I have reached the desired goal of 80 entries including, research articles, novels, books of poetry, graphic novels, selected chapters for critical study and lecture classes. 

Everything I read now is icing on the cake and, as per my mentors suggestions once again, I'm excited get to work reading Writing Great Books for Young Adults by Regina Brooks, The Modern Library Writer's Workshop by Stephen Koch (this is more for after I graduate but I'll peek now!), The Stranger by Albert Camus (this one is a reread), Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee, and (probably after I graduate) On Such a Full Sea by Chang-rae Lee.  I cannot begin to describe how excited I was to get the latest package from Amazon.  I had just ordered the Coetzee, Brooks, and Koch books and knew they would be arriving any day.  They arrived yesterday while I was getting ready for my shower.  I heard the door knock and so I cautiously, nakedly made my way through the hall to peer out though the spy-hole into the stairwell area.  No one was there.  I knew right away it must be a UPS drop off.  So I opened the door and extended a naked arm, as well as one renegade boob, out into the world (because stopping to put clothes on was NOT an option!) and snatched the box quickly into the safety of my home and bosom.

Today's Blog Lesson: Reading is good for you.  Masturbation is good for you.  Any questions?

For Wiccan Spirituality homework: We were given two articles to read and some exercises to try. I've already read the first article and loved it!  Other parts of homework were to interact with and get to know water as an inspirational and life-giving thing, as well as research the second chakra which is the chakra most associated with this element.  Well I found some great sites (Chakra Center, Chakra Anatomy, and Kundalini Yoga Meditation) that offer similar yet valuable information on the second chakra which is known in Sanskit as the Svadhishthana "one's own base."  The thing about the second chakra is that it focuses not on pragmatism but on 'feeling' and creativity. It is, I suppose, the human condition chakra. This is the stem of our feelings and emotions and our sexual drives and desires. It can become clogged and blocked and interrupted which usually leads to a damming of our creativity or an unhealthy obsession with sex in its shallowest of forms.  

Pleasure is good, touching is good, coming together as humans or even exploring one's own self is good. But not at the expense of enjoying the rest of what life has to offer. When this chakra is in good working order, a person's creativity blooms, they feel strong in their sexual identity, they enjoy the release that emotions and sensations have to offer, and they do not fight against their feelings. For women, especially, this is a creative center as it lies within the womb area of our bodies. Even if a woman chooses not to, or has no occasion to, have a child, her uterus is one of the most creative places inside of her. It is in a state of change and hormonal cycling, always growing and losing and starting over again. Painful periods and trouble menstruating may cause blockage in the second chakra and, some believe, blockage in the second chakra can cause painful periods and trouble menstruating. I think this last bit is incredibly interesting. We know that emotions bring on physiological reactions in a person (anger causes tension, adrenaline; grief brings tears, tightness of chest, pain, aches, soreness, etc.) so who's to say how much of our period pain comes from oxygen deprived muscle tissue and how much of it stems from improperly balanced second chakra? Something to think about anyway.

Bills, Maps, and the Lessons of Water

I got the bill finally from the whole hospital fiasco.  As it stands I'm over $5,000 in debt to Kootenai Health.  Next step is to go in and get the debt settled as much as possible.  In other news, I've been applying like mad for some other job.  It's so frustrating because I do really enjoy my job and I really love some of the people I work with.  But I can't survive on nothing and that's pretty much what this job pays.  It's a blessing that I'm still getting the pay increase for now but soon that'll be gone just like my hours are pretty much gone and then I'll really be up shit creek.  

In other, other news: I drew a map for my dystopian novel and I'm really quite proud of it.  I am either going to use colored pencils or watercolor to give it some life but I think I want to make a copy/scan of it first just in case I totally ruin it in the effort of trying to make it pretty.  Like the image below.

Last night was the Spirituality Circle in Spokane.  We talked about the element of water and it was really interesting and got my creative juices flowing quite a bit.  I have a great many things I want to do so that I can incorporate water into my daily ritual for health in body and spirits. 

Talking about water at the Circle brought up some really cool memories for me.  Cool and humbling I should say.  When I first went to Germany to volunteer for the Girl Scouts Overseas, I learned to canoe down the Main River (pronounced like 'mine').  Starunner, Eeek, and I (my camp name was/is Quetzal) all joined forces as team Colorado during the test run down the river.  We boasted of our natural talents having come from the land of white water and how we were going to show our prowess as Canoe Queens.  Well, of course, Team Colorado tipped right on over into the river.  We were the only ones who tipped in fact.  A small lesson in humility. 

Another memory where water kicked this Virgo's ass was when I worked at another summer camp, this one was in Post Falls.  Hannah and I went to work for a summer camp program as one-on-one aides for young adults with specialized needs.  I worked with one young individual who was non-verbal, a bit prone to violence, and a complete water hater.  Well... one of the outings found us all at a lake.  There was canoeing.  So of course I wanted to get out there and play!  I spent about half an hour convincing my client that I wouldn't let him get wet, that I was a professional at this.  And finally he let me lead him to the dock and then carefully down into the canoe.  He was doing well.  But then I stepped down into the rocking boat and it was all overboard from there.  I found myself standing almost knee deep in lake muck with a six foot teenager clinging to me for dear life much like a cat when faced with a bath.  He was not happy.  Hannah's clients however found it hilarious.  I was actually really proud of my client that day - he didn't freak out on me or get violent, he just stared at me with sad puppy eyes while I got him out of the lake and got him cleaned up.