Eagles Over the Kennebec

What Went Before: Tali's fan club will be pleased to know that she is pronounced "a looker" by her vet, a little lean, but in perfect health. She has received her chip, gotten a pedicure, and had her ears cleaned.

Short story: Tali is still not certain that I have clearance to pick her up all the time, so I was feeling pretty good about having not only picked her up, but carrying her to the box with the bare minimum of wiggling, and into the box itself with only one curse word (from Tali). I latched the gate, and went to start the car.

By the time I got back, Rook had managed to unseat one side of the latch -- which wasn't enough to let her force the gate down, but I'd just like to say, Thank God that kid isn't polydactyl. And also? He's gonna be running this town by the time he's five.

Tali is now home, and sleeping the sleep of the Justly Exhausted under the dining room table.

I am having a cookie, which may become two cookies (spoiler: it did become two cookies), and a cup of tea.

Thursday. Rainy and warm. Foggy as the snow sublimates.

Ashley's due in an hour or so, and tonight is ASL class.

Breakfast was toasted English muffin with cream cheese and grapes. Lunch will be, um. Chicken. I baked chicken breasts yesterday, but opted for the last of the drunken noodles for my actual lunch. I'm pretty sure you can't live on drunken noodles, but apparently I'm willing to try.

I straightened up my desk again yesterday afternoon. At least I have the answer to the question, "Why is there so much crap on this desk?" Because, in part, I'm writing a book, so paper accretion is A Thing, but also because I have two insurance cases open.

I did finally retire to the blanket fort, after downloading All Systems Red from Audible. I put on my headphones and closed my eyes. That appears to have been a Good Call.

Tali is swinging back and forth between, "Monster! You put me in the evil box and put the evil box in the car and TOOK ME AWAY." and, "You brought me home from the evil place where all the ladies cooed over me and told me how beautiful I am. MY HERO!" I suppose she'll get it sorted in a day or two.

A week ago, I ordered something from Across the Pond, and the Royal Mail has been my best friend ever since. They notified me when my packet was received into their system, when it had boarded the plane, when it landed (though not what it had had for tea), when it entered the tender care of the US postal service, and, this morning, that the packet had been welcomed at my local post office and was on a truck for delivery. If I had expected anything, I would have expected a cessation of correspondence from the Royal Mail once the package entered the care of the USPS, but no--apparently they're going to see it through to the moment I sign the release. I'll actually miss their letters.

I shifted all my notes and whatnot back to Steve's office so Ashley can have a clear field when she arrives.

And that's my news.

What's yours?

Yesterday, the younger Directors decided to play Tic-Tac-Toe

First breakfast was Cheerios and half a banana, around 8 am.  Second breakfast is six Ritz cracker with cream cheese, and my second cup of tea.

I have News of sorts, for those of you who have been Patiently Bearing with All The Boring House Stuff, and waiting for us to get back to the Important Stuff.

We here at the Confusion Factory have a number of projects currently on our plates, and while they have deadlines as far-flung as August and January, those are delivery deadlines.  Internal deadlines are another thing entirely, because, while Everything May Happen At Once, it has to be handled One Thing At A Time.

So!  We have the following projects in hand:

May 26:  Finish proofing the Anniversary Edition of Agent of Change.  August delivery

May 31: Sharon finishes first draft of as-yet-untitled space opera story for Infinite Stars 2 and passes to Steve.  August delivery

June 1:  Sharon begins Actual Writing of Accepting the Lance.  January 2019 delivery

June 1:  Sharon begins proofing Liaden Universe® Constellation Volume 4.  Steve begins writing mini-intros for each story.  Collaborate on volume intro.  August delivery

July 1:  Sharon begins writing story for Release the Virgins.  Steve begins writing story for Release the Virgins.  August delivery?

You will deduce from this list that we are in a position of needing to Beat Feet and keep on beating.

On top of this -- those who are bored with House Stuff may avert your eyes -- we still do need to get the Old Digs ready for sale, and finish settling into the New Digs.

We will therefore be Somewhat Scarce on the Information Superhighway.  Email may languish.  We will try to surface occasionally to fill y'all in, but work, by which I of course mean, Feeding the Cats, comes first.

Stay safe.  Keep busy.  Be kind.  Take out the trash.  Call your mother.  Tell the people in your life how much they mean to you.  And, always, always. . .

Watch the skies.

So, I have a cold.  I'm not happy about this.  I also have work to do, so best to get at it.

But!  Before I quite get there, I'd like to share some articles about "strong female protagonists," and the notion of "likable (female) characters."

A Plague of Strong Female Characters

Not Here to Make Friends

These articles are interesting to me, as a writer -- and as a writer of characters often described as "likable."  Which is somewhat baffling, considering the histories of many of our characters, at least on the Liaden side of things.  Among my/our other characters. . .Well. . .

Poor Becca Beauvelley gets all kinds of abuse for allowing herself to fall into the hands of an ancient and powerful magic-wielding villain from whom she has no hope of freeing herself.  She should, one gathers, have Done Something.

Jenn Pierce, a middle-class woman of the last century, who doesn't know judo, or sword-fighting, or anything at all about guns -- as most of us, I will argue, do not -- has her lack of martial skill scorned, and is advised to get some basic training in weapons.  Her lack of skill in these matters is called "unbelievable."

Kate Archer is described by one reader as "repulsive" and by another as "uncaring."

And Val Con yos'Phelium, who really will kill you, if necessary. . .is seen as kind of a nice guy, a little shy. . .While the Uncle, whose probable sins I suggest that we dwell not long upon, is "fascinating."

Anyhow, these are things that concern me nearly, as matters of craft and art, and it's interesting to see how other people have thought about them.

Speaking of likable characters and reality. . .There's an article in this week's New Yorker about the defense lawyer who specializes in defending our most notorious criminals, most lately, she has been the lead defense attorney for Dzbokhar Tsarnaev.  Her idea, as far as I understand it, which may not be very far at all, is that -- while Society has an obligation to rid itself of Monsters; it has the corresponding duty not to dispose of those who are. . .less than. . .Monsters merely because it would be convenient to do so.  To this end, she undertakes to show juries the humanity of her clients.  Here's the link to that article.

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Week Five of the Do It Like a Delm Challenge is well underway.  You view this week's challengers here.

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In other news, I received a package today from Amazon, and Sprite has found a use for the box.

Today's blog title is brought to you by Juice Newton, "Queen of Hearts."  Here's your link.

So!  The pictures are rolling in for the Do It Like A Delm Challenge.  You can see the first gold contestants at this link.

Wanna play?  Here's the link to the rules.  Steve and I look forward to your entry -- and remember!  Every week, one lucky entrant will win a coupon from Baen, for a free ebook of the winner's choice.

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For those who haven't seen it, Judith Tarr did a guest post on Charlie Stross' blog regarding the [insert tongue in cheek] lack of women writers in the genre of science fiction [remove tongue from cheek, save for later use].  Here's the link.

Now, honestly, when I saw the topic, I thought something along the lines of Oh, please, there cannot be a single person connected to the internets who doesn't now know that women write SF.  Why are we having this discussion, again?  But, you know what?  The commenters pretty much prove that this is a discussion we still need to have.  My favorite comments are the ones stating that the female experience, while interesting, really has nothing to do with them* (because they know no women?); and the ones that state categorically that any book with a woman's name on the cover is, ipso facto, a feminist rant, and therefore of no interest to the reader.

So now my question is -- How do you inhabit a universe wherein there are No Women Writing Science Fiction?  Do you never visit a bookstore?  Do you instruct your bookseller to put a monthly bundle of books together for you that only have masculine names on the cover -- and no initials, either!  Sneaky things, initials; you never know who's behind lurking behind initials.

I can't even.

Mind you, this is not my fight -- I'm invisible to the no-women side, and to the all-men-all-the-time side, because I have a male co-author (worse! I have a husband co-author, of many, many years standing.).  The worst hassle I've gotten was the guy who thought it was "nice" that my husband let me put my name on his books.  Steve's worst, I think, was the guy who chastised him for not asserting his rights as The Man in the partnership and allowing his wife to drip Romance all over what ought to be SciFi books.

But, still, I wonder, how the hell you find, and continue to live in, this particular cocoon.  Women have been writing science fiction since before there was science fiction.  And it seems the more that proposition is put forward, the more -- rather than the less -- resistance it generates.

I used to be a fan of the internet; I used to think the internet would foster understanding between diverse peoples and viewpoints.

Yeah. . .too naive to live.

Today's blog post comes to you from Woody Guthrie by way of Ramblin' Jack Elliott, "Pretty Boy Floyd."  Here's your link.

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*Mind you, I read SF books from the male viewpoint for years, and years, and years, and years.  I credit this circumstance with teaching me how to write believable alien characters.  So, yanno, it can be a good thing to read about an experience that's different from your own.

So, I slept in a little bit this morning; Trooper assisting by sleeping on my face, which gives you some idea of how very, very asleep I was.

Spent some parts of the morning trying to locate my set of Steve's car keys, which I lost sometime during being ill, when I needed to move the cars for the plowman.  All the pockets in the house are clean, as is the couch, my bag, Steve's bag, the cars, the driveway, the kitchen table (my keys, which I would have used at the same time, and for the same purpose, are on the kitchen table, right where they belong), the Mencken Table, my desk, and the catch-all drawer in my office -- all, all are keyless.  I'm going to have to admit defeat at this point.

After I combed Trooper and Sprite, I gave the rest of the day over to totaling/closing the 2014 accounts (I still have two that need last bits of information before I can close them), since our accountant was kind enough to make sure the accounting packet reached us on Christmas Eve.

In a moment or two, I'm going to go do the dishes, and then retire to the sofa with When Gods Die to keep me company.

Before I sign off of the interwebs for the evening, though, I'm going to revisit something, because it still. . .fascinates me.

WARNING:  POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW IF YOU HAVEN'T READ "THE NIGHT DON'T SEEM SO LONELY"

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Back a few weeks ago, when a portion of the internet went stupid because I had used a Bad Word in "The night don't seem so lonely," someone involved in that conversation took advantage of it to critique the story, in order to show me how (1) I could have completely avoided using Bad Words and (2) written a stronger story that they would have liked better.  (Yes, this is exactly as breathtakingly rude as it sounds, but never mind that.)

The person in question would have improved the story by throwing away the first scenes in the story-as-published, opening with Moss on the beach, alluding to his adventures on the road, and his reason for being there, in very brief one-or-two sentence flashbacks, and finishing with an epiphany of  destiny.  Which...OK, that's a story; it's not the story I wanted to write, but let that go, too, because there's an even more interesting assertion in the reason for restructuring the story in this manner, which was this:

The opening scenes, sayeth the critique-person, risk losing readers who may decide that they don't want to read about these characters.  By opening with the scene on the beach, readers *immediately know* that Moss isn't "just some drifter" but a person they should care about.

This notion of "risking" the loss of readers fascinates me, but, then, I tend to assume that readers are reading for character, rather than plot.  In the case of Moss, I began the story where I did so that the reader could get a brief taste of what his reality had been for the last while, and to maximize the punch of relief for the reader when someone, finally, takes an honest interest, while at the same time feeding the uncertainty -- is this really going to work out, then?  So much has gone wrong for this kid. . .

And back around I come to this idea that you will lose readers if you force them to interact with characters.  What a strange, strange notion.

So -- what grabs you in a story, and forces you to keep reading?  Character? Dialog?  Plot?  Setting?  Bad Words?

Discuss.