Author Archives: Melissa Walshe

Autumn’s Sister is live!

Autumn's Sister CoverAt long last, Autumn’s Sister is up and available for purchase! It’s been a slog. I finished the first draft of Autumn’s Sister before I had finished publishing Autumn’s Daughter, and since then, I’ve completed the draft of the final book in the trilogy, Autumn’s Exile; a couple hundred thousand words worth of episodes for a serial science fiction thing; and a novella. I don’t tell you this to brag on my work ethic, but to demonstrate that I’ve gotten some practice and storytelling experience under my belt in between drafting and editing Autumn’s Sister. This increased experience translated to waves of loathing and discouragement that made the editing process difficult to push through: I fully intended to publish this book a year ago, and you can see how well that worked out.

When I published Autumn’s Daughter, I also wrote a bit about my perspective on why self-publishing is worth doing. Two books in and two years later, I’m feeling a little more conflicted. Self-publishing is exhausting and lonely. You have to be a bit mad in the manner of Don Quixote, tilting at the massive indifference of readers with many better-marketed (and many just plain better) books to choose from. I’m not sure if I’m mad enough to keep it up indefinitely, which is why I’m going to be shopping the aforementioned novella–it’s at least worth working through the ropes of the traditional publishing industry to see if there is help and support to be had from more experienced people.

I still stand by the value of self-publishing in democratizing art and making room for more experimental work like this little oddball series. The Sidhe Diaries are a bit weird in general, especially Autumn’s Sister, which is a fantasy book focusing on a character with scant magical abilities living in the real world for most of the story. Where Niamh’s story in Autumn’s Daughter was a more typical “changeling princess” plot, Birdy’s story is about recovering from trauma in solitude. I won’t give away the ending, but I will say that my beta readers were not, by and large, pleased with how I chose to wrap up this book. I would bet that most publishing houses wouldn’t be either, and if you read it, you may be upset with me too.

But here’s the thing: I stand by this ending. I won’t explain why here, since not many of you have read it yet, but after feedback from my wonderful beta readers, several rounds of edits, and some deep contemplation…I stand by it. I hope the final book will give clarity to my choice, and in the meantime, I hope you’ll let yourself share in Birdy’s uncomfortably limited knowledge of the sidhe courts and how it frames the mayhem she’s been dragged into.

Requisite “support the author” spiel : )

  • Here’s the link to buy Autumn’s Sister. Reviews (good or bad) are very helpful in improving how Amazon understands my books and are deeply appreciated!
  • If you haven’t read Autumn’s Daughter, here’s the link to buy that one. I’ve dropped the price to $0.99 (as low as Amazon lets me go), and you can add the audiobook for $1.99. Reviews are also deeply appreciated on this one.
  • If you have the interest in being a beta reader or would like to hear about new books and other writing ventures, I’ve got a mailing list for that, and I’d love to include you.

Free Speech and Consequences

A friend of mine came under attack by a few of the dumber donkey butts of the internet. This friend had the audacity *gasp* to point out that, even if you’re not pro-Clinton, calling her a bitch is not an effective way to sell the feminist angle of your candidate’s platform. And of course, a number of trolls used this microscopic excuse to start calling my friend (and Clinton) a bitch (and worse). As if that wasn’t obnoxious enough, they then started whining about their first amendment rights being violated.


I’m not going to touch the toxic masculinity issue with a ten-foot pole here, but with election season ramping up, I KNOW I’m going to see a large number of these mud-slinging-followed-by-first-amendment-slinging conversations popping up from people all across the political spectrum. So, for the sake of sanity and civility for all, here’s a little PSA reminding you that there is a difference between having your first amendment rights violated and being called on your aggressive bullshit.

Let’s review, for thirty seconds, what the First Amendment says.

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

If we focus, for the purposes of this little case study, on only the speech aspect as it applies to making vicious comments on social media, this little piece of language can be simplified to mean something more like, “The federal government can’t stop you from talking like an asshole.”

Let’s also simplify, for the moment, the complexity of how free speech rights play out in the context of social media user agreements with different companies. The first amendment does not meant that Facebook and Twitter (who are not, surprise!, part of Congress) are necessarily required to let you shoot your mouth off, making their platforms toxic environments for the rest of the users, but they also aren’t great about kicking out the assholes because it’s not always profitable for them. You may very well be allowed to be a verbal bully by the people who are actually in charge of the rules that determine whether you’re allowed to play with the other kids on any given internet playground.


That doesn’t mean you won’t face consequences for your actions. The same loose oversight of speech that lets you throw around words like “bitch” and “cunt” means that private individuals (also not covered under that peskily specific “Congress” label) who think your language is shitty have the right to tell you as much. If you use words in ways that identify you as ignorant or a misogynist pig, you might just get called ignorant or a misogynist pig. Surprise! If you don’t want to wear that label proudly, maybe start taking a few seconds to think about what you sound like before you post something.

You could have just thought it.

Even when you have a legitimate disagreement with someone’s statement, you may always choose to deal with it in an intelligent, thoughtful, constructive fashion. If you choose to use language aggressively and unkindly in order to force a person out of the conversation, you’re an asshole and you’re making the world just a little worse.

You don’t have to be an asshole to make your point heard, and if that’s the route you choose to go, there might just be consequences. People might point out that you are contributing slightly less to the conversation than a massive pile of excrement. They might unfriend you. They might publicly shame you for your words. And guess what? Not one of those consequences comes even close to violating your injudiciously exercised first amendment rights.

tldr; if you can’t take it, you are more than welcome to stop dishing it out.

Worry: The Salt of Imagination

There’s a quotation floating around the internet in the form of various inspirational memes, and I feel the need to respond to it.

“Worry is a waste of imagination.”

On the surface, it seems like a sweet piece of sentimental encouragement, but I’m going to take a strongly oppositional stance: it’s not only wrong, it’s toxic.

Why is it wrong?

From an evolutionary perspective, worry is one of the fundamental functions of imagination, if not the wellspring that makes the ability useful enough to survive in a population over time. Worry is, by definition, a state of anxiety over actual or potential problems, right? In the context of survival, worry is a thing of beauty. The ability to imagine everything that could possibly go wrong is a valuable step towards preparing a functional response that will keep you alive.

And while you can make the argument that the original problems that worry helped us anticipate (tiger attacks, for example) might be less pressing, you’d have to be a fool to think our world is functioning so beautifully that we have no use for solutions that spring from the imagination’s worries.

Worry might lead us to imagine living in abject poverty, which we might respond to by showing up for work on time consistently or being sensible about the debt we take on. Worry might lead us to imagine the return of smallpox, which we might respond to by getting our shots and advocating for good vaccination policies. Worry might lead us to worry about triggering World War III, which we might respond to by working really hard to keep the Drumpf from getting elected.

Far from being a waste, worry is one of the critical tools of imagination.

Okay, fine, maybe the quotation isn’t completely accurate. But toxic? Really?

Yes, really. Even if you brush off the worry about what it would be like to live in a world run by irresponsible adult-children who are incapable of applying forethought to situations that might be beneficial for us to avoid, shutting down the people who are good at worrying is just mean.

In my observation, social groups are more effective when you’ve got a good balance of naturally negative people and naturally positive people. Not necessarily a 1:1 ratio. 3:1 might be closer to the mark. If you look at “negative” people as “problem seers” and “positive” people as “problem solvers,” you can see how that balance might be useful. Three people whose primary talent lies with fixing things for every one person who’s primarily good at noticing what might need fixing could mean good odds for fixing those identifiable problems.

The difficulty is that “positivity,” being a trait that is useful in larger quantities, becomes “normal,” while “negativity” becomes seen as less desirable. (And let’s face it: negative people are not often the ones who are good at helping to foster group cohesion, which adds to the perception of negative thinking as inherently bad.) So instead of recognizing that these two habits of imagination (problem seeing and problem solving) are complementary skills that need each other, there’s a tendency for worry and negativity to be seen as something that has to be fixed by the positive people. And to treat negativity as something that needs to be fixed is to treat people who are better at seeing problems as if they are broken.

Labeling people as broken for the habits of mind they were born with is a toxic behavior, and that’s exactly what this quote is doing.

Come on…you’re not saying worry is always a good thing, are you?

I’m not. Really, and truly, I get where that quote is coming from. Worry can drag people down without serving a purpose. Just like blind enthusiasm.

Any trait that’s too far out of balance is going to lead to problems. In a world that’s a lot safer, statistically speaking, than the world in which worry was initially useful (i.e., Tiger Attack World), our imaginations are certainly capable of latching onto ridiculous scenarios to fret about and spiraling into obsessive panic attacks. That’s not good. That specific variety of worry is a waste of imagination. But if you lump all worry into the same category of wasted brain power, you will accomplish exactly two things:

  1. You’ll make the habitually positive people feel smug and self-congratulatory about their own lack of worry, leading them to feel justified in further telling negative people how broken they are.
  2. You’ll make the habitually negative people feel more broken and give them something else to worry about.

That quotation does both of those thing. I do hate to deprive the internet of a pithy conceptualization of a rampant topic, of course, so here’s a suggested alternative:

Worry is the salt of the imagination: too much could give you a heart attack, but it’s still essential to life.

How to Format eBooks (Like a Boss)

I recently ran a workshop on formatting ebooks for the Lewiston Public Library and promised to share an electronic checklist and the presentation slides on my site. So…here they are!

How to Format eBooks (Like a Boss): Slides
How to Format eBooks: Checklist

After the presentation, the librarian showed me her demo version of PressBooks, a service the library is considering subscribing to. It’s a WordPress-based tool for making properly formatted, quite lovely ebooks with a lot less labor than the DIY process I describe above, so if you’re daunted by the more technical process or want some a wider variety of spiffy pre-made styling options, you might find it worthwhile to shell out the $20/book.

Maine authors:

Once you’ve got your book up and published, one way or the other, don’t forget to consider submitting to…

  •  Self-E – This will eventually get you in their module for subscribed Maine libraries with a chance at being added to the national module. Right now, this is pretty much the only workable path for library exposure for indie authors.
  • ReadMaine – This is a work-in-progress, but once enough authors have sent in their info, you’ll have a free listing on a site meant to help Maine readers find and support Maine authors.

Happiness, Placebos, and the Beliefs of Others

Because I need one more thing in my life to distract me from actually making progress on any of the other things in my life, I’ve picked up a new hobby recently: wire-wrapping. To be honest, at this point, picking up the hobby mostly consists of watching hours of video tutorials. Something about them is just mesmerizing.

I have gone so far as to pick up some wire and rocks for the wrapping, which involved a trip to the Rock & Art Shop. I loved the Rock & Art Shop before I ever set foot in there, because my nephew has been buying all of his Christmas presents for the family there for a few years. He always finds the neatest things, so I was excited to have an excuse to pop over while I was in the area for a class with my mom.

My mom, against any odds I would have given you, fell in love with a hunk of polished fluorite. It was pretty, all purple and green, and her encomiums drew the attention of an equally enthusiastic clerk. “Oh, I love fluorite,” the young woman said. “It’s so good for you.”

The clerk then proceeded to spend several eternally long minutes exclaiming on the metaphysical virtues of fluorite, on its ability to soak up the positive ions emitted by technology in order to prevent them from throwing off our balance, on its ability to inspire creativity, and a number of other things I didn’t quite catch because I was trying to figure out how to get my mother out of this conversation before her religious aversion to all things mystical overcame her general politeness. Fortunately, about the third time that my mother said, “Yes, well, it is a very pretty rock,” the clerk picked up on the negative charge of her words and stopped attempting to talk the store out of a sale.

I have a tough time interacting with folks around such topics myself. I grew up in a pretty religious home and went through a difficult transition when I left home and realized that my particular beliefs were not just rationally hard to justify: they were actively harmful to people I cared about. I’ve managed to find a place where I feel stable, which includes a general skepticism of all things without any scientific support and a default moral position of trying (not always succeeding, but trying) to default to kindness in my actions to others. Anything more codified or mystical tends to put me at yellow alert, because it strikes me as just another skin for the same lack of responsibility for one’s behavior to others that drove me away from the church in the first place.

But…one thing that I do believe in is the placebo effect. While I very much doubt there’s any rigorous data supporting the ability of fluorite to improve one’s creativity objectively or any clinical trials to test whether or not Mercury being in retrograde actually makes the world go haywire, there are people who put stock in those ideas, and I’m sure that their belief plays a role in their ability to cope with what life throws at them. Coping mechanisms don’t need to be rational to be valuable, and having people who don’t take value from your particular mechanism cut it down is only either going to polarize you into a stronger belief or chip away at the placebo effect that makes your belief useful. So I try very hard to mostly keep my own baggage under wraps when other people wax poetic about their rocks and stars and prophets and just live and let live unless I see someone being hurt by someone else’s belief-motivated actions.

And then, there’s this: a qualitative study based on self-report around some admittedly squidgy emotion words. When you look at the vast numbers of people who cling to some sort of belief system, though, it’s not hard to accept the notion that the ability to engage in awe might actually be valuable to our well-being. Awe isn’t something I’m great at: experiencing wonder doesn’t so much go hand in hand with habitual cynicism as it does hand to hand. I’ve been stuck in a rut of “That’s cool if it’s true, but what’s the flaw?” habit of mind for a while, and it’s a rut that has some legitimate usefulness.

So here’s the question: how do you balance useful skepticism with a bit of healthy awe? Is it possible to experience the benefits of wonder without getting swept out to sea in a riptide of nonsense?

I had an extended conversation with a friend awhile ago about this article. I read it when I was at the bottom of a particularly unproductive slump of negativity, and she took me to task for doubting my own ability to wonder, because I do have a tendency to get a bit carried away by things that spark my interest…like watching people turn bits of unremarkable rock and wire into shiny jewelry. Or how knitting and trigonometry go hand in hand. I tend not to think of those sidetrips of fascination as awe, though, which is where the squidginess of emotion words in qualitative studies becomes problematic. If awe is not operationally defined, how am I supposed to look at my interest in dendritic limestone and judge whether or not it’s meeting my recommended daily dose of awe?

There are, obviously, no perfect answers that will suit everyone, and it’s not a scientifically well-defined problem, but it is something I chew on from time to time. What is the difference between faith in the ionic properties of rocks and joy at the process of turning them into art?

On Possessing the Origin of All Poems

I am bogged down in my least favorite part of writing at the moment. Every single one of my ongoing projects is at a phase where I’m slogging through tedious continuity edits and fact-checking. Blergh. If I emerge from the other side without shaving my head bald as some sort of desperate prayer for salvation from the tedium, I will count myself saner than expected.

I have to laugh at myself about the continuity piece. When I set out to write Autumn’s Daughter, the original intent was to work on a YA fantasy concept that would require minimal research and therefore be an easier gateway for playing with voice and plot and the like. I wasn’t wrong about the level of research needed to pull AD off, but what I failed to realize is that if you create a world that you decide to keep writing in, you are still going to have to put research in. The only difference is that you have a much smaller body of information to keep track of (i.e., what you’ve already written as opposed to, say, the entire span of works on Korean culture) and the information originated from your own brain…which mostly just means it would be several degrees of magnitude more embarrassing to rest the pivot point of the sequel on a fulcrum that you outlawed as impossible in the first book.

Fact-checking research is frustrating, but it’s also the foundation of believable contexts and rich scenarios. So: it matters.

The most difficult problem of research is, of course, “How do I know what I don’t know?” A friend gave me the term “postage stamp worlds” to encapsulate this struggle. When you look at stamps, they seem like a fairly simple illustration, but the closer you look, the more you realize that the art is lush with detail that seems impossibly complex for the size of the thing. Any area of expertise or knowledge is the same way: from an outside perspective, it looks like an interesting little hobby or quirky set of facts. The minute you decide to step in to become part of the world, however, you will find yourself tumbling down an absolute warren of rabbit holes.

I fall into these warrens all the time. One of the first qualifications for being a writer is probably an unhealthy fascination with pretty much everything, although there is some serious irony in the fact that my endless fascination with everything really eats into my writing time. My latest warren is drawing, in particular botanical drawing, and while I was reading Bente Starcke King’s Beautiful Botanicals, my brain latched onto this:

At the risk of moralizing, I will nevertheless point out that you should work from original materials and never copy someone else’s drawing. If another artist made a mistake, you are likely to repeat if not magnify an error.

While she’s discussing the importance of drawing from actual plants instead of photos or drawings, it’s an interesting thought to ponder in the context of writing. There is a great deal of temptation to borrow research from other writers. If I were to write high fantasy, for example, it would be incredibly tempting to simply mash together all of the weaponry / clothing / conveyance / horse gear / etc. terms I’ve picked up from reading an unhealthy amount of high fantasy. But that approach means that (a) I might repeat or build upon another writer’s sloppy research and (b) I’m limited to the set of details that other authors have chosen to pull from their studies and could very well be missing that lynch pin detail that makes the scene work.

I was listening to Tex Thompson and Dan Bensen talk writing on Dan’s podcast awhile back (which you should listen to in full), and they got into a discussion about Tex’s writing of horses and characters who love horses. Tex made the point that even though she is not really into the smelly, hot labor of caring for horses, she spent plenty of time around people who are, which itself gave her an insider’s perspective on how people appreciate horses.

What all of this boils down to for me is that, while good research is essential to rich fiction and the best way to resolve the epistemology problem of research is to get your feet wet in whatever postage stamp world you’re working with, you don’t necessarily have to dive in to find the hidden questions. Smart researching means making friends with a wide range of cool people with diverse interests and listening actively and intently to their enthusiastic gushing for the thing they love.

…Which means that writing fiction doesn’t actually excuse me from developing the good interview/people skills that scared me away from journalism many moons ago.

Curses. Foiled again.

One Mainer’s Guide to Snowpocalypse Survival

I keep seeing a set of snowstorm survival tips from the Bangor Police Department circulating online, and while there’s some very nice advice from some wonderful humans in there, I think there’s an underlying assumption implied by some of the specific advice that this big snowstorm you’re facing is sorta cute by Maine standards. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I remember the ice storm, and let me tell you, if things get that real for you, on this storm or the next, buying cereal and batteries is just not going to cut it. So here’s my slightly tongue-in-cheek insight on how we actually survive truly bad snow and ice up here in God’s frozen hindquarters.

First: Mainers and “stocking up.”

The reason we survive snow storms so nicely is that we all assume that any report of 1″ or more is heralding the next snow-pocalypse. This is why I am positive that all fiction about looting food stores after the collapse of civilization is grossly optimistic. (One day, people. If the world goes to hell, your local grocery store will be out of everything in less than 24 hours.) Fortunately, most of the weather events don’t turn into the ice storm of ’98, so if you clear out the grocery store of all non-perishable food items every time there’s a whisper of impending snow, you will eventually acquire a stash of dried beans and oatmeal that will carry you through the actual End of the World as We Know It.

Cap’n Crunch? Please. As if the people buying all the bread didn’t clear out all the milk first anyway. Also, little tip: sugary carbs like cereal are going to leave you feeling hangry, anxious, and sock-mouthed pretty fast if that’s all you’ve got on hand. I know stuff like beans, Spam, sardines, Vienna sausages, and other weird canned stuff that can technically be eaten at room temp or below is not going to appeal to anyone who didn’t grow up on the stuff, but non-perishable sources of protein and fat are going to help you feel full longer than cereal and possibly not as many people will have thought to clear the shelves of them, so try to think outside the habits of eating that are normal and reasonable in a functioning civilization.

Nuts and nut butters are also good choices, of course, but I think the bread/milk hoarders tend to at least hit the nut butters, so if you’re later to the legal looting madness we call “stocking up for a storm,” be brave. Canned meat tastes like salt and fat, and human tastebuds are engineered to appreciate that combo, so you’ll adjust. Grab some mustard…there’s probably plenty of that in the store, and mustard can cover a multitude of weird canned food sins.

Second: water.

Elementary school science might come in handy here, but do you know what snow is? That’s right: it’s frozen water. I’m not saying you should eat snow straight as a rule, but in a pinch, you can melt it down and use it to flush toilets or wash dishes or take a sponge bath. If you can boil it (no less than 1 minute at a full, rolling boil), it’s certainly less dangerous than dying of dehydration. So if you got caught without the massive gallons of backup water supply that all seasoned Mainers tend to keep in their basements (swapping out annually, 1/8-1/4 tsp. bleach per gallon of stored water), don’t panic: you’re surrounded by the stuff if you can put in the work to change its physical state and sanitize it.

Third: management of food temperatures.

If you’ve got three feet of snow, you’ve got what could be called a natural ice box. That’s how you keep the milk for the questionable life choice of sugared cereal as a survival food cold. Just…be mindful of the local wildlife population when deciding how to store food outside.

If you’ve got a grill, you’ve got hot food and an option for boiling water, so don’t forget to clear out the remnants of the charcoal section that Home Deport carries in winter, or fill up your propane tanks. If you don’t own appropriate cold weather equipment for grilling in the middle of winter, we will only judge you a little teensy affectionate bit for wearing three pairs of pants. Whatever it takes.

Fourth: management of your temperature.

You can make more body heat than you might think just by sticking the whole family in the same room. (That questionable suggestion of a sponge bath is going to start to sounding brilliant real fast.) Hang towels across the windows if they’re not well-insulated. Old blankets or sheets can help add a layer of air insulation to doors, if needed. Blanket forts make great places to read and play board games and they let you improve the ratio of bodies to air space for minimum heat loss. Propane heaters can be tempting, but read the warning labels: a lot of them (like patio heaters) are not meant to be used in an enclosed space, so be smart and pick up a carbon monoxide detector for good measure. And they will quite possibly set things like polyester on fire, so, you know…don’t stand too close in an effort to get warm.

Fifth: batteries.

If you don’t have batteries, don’t panic. As long as you can muddle through without emergency services, you’ll probably survive without power for a couple days. Or weeks. But if you do have batteries, it’s worth managing your power needs sensibly. Priority one is maintaining communication for emergency purposes. This means not playing games or streaming videos on your cell phone or letting your teens spend long hours arguing with their boos about who should hang up first. Not if you don’t have a way to recharge batteries. Additionally: if the phone lines don’t go out (and I have never experienced the phone lines going out, though I imagine plenty of folks don’t have landlines anymore), a corded phone will work without power. You can still get them and they are cheap as dirt, so it’s a sensible communication option to have on hand if you’ve got a landline.

Priority two is keeping light for emergency situations. Cheapo LED flashlights run off a single AAA for a crazy long time, so that’s our go-to flashlight. Two packs are maybe $5 at places like Home Depot and Harbor Freight, and you probably have tons of AAAs from all those times you thought buying a multi-pack of batteries was a good deal only to realize that pretty much nothing runs on AAAs. If you can get one, an LED lantern that can be charged via a solar panel or a handcrank is damn handy for lighting a room a bit if you don’t really want to just go to bed when the sun goes down.

Finally, and in all seriousness: check on people.

This is not a joke or an idle suggestion. Old people and folks with serious medical conditions are at risk for a lot more than heart attacks under tough conditions. They might not have had the transportation to get to the store to stock up. They might not have the physical strength to haul water. They’re more susceptible to lower temperatures. They might need medications or regular life-saving treatments that they can’t get access to if they can’t shovel themselves out. Single-parents with little kids are also going to have a much harder time managing the extra strain that comes with a weather emergency. If you have the strength to make yourself useful, warm yourself up with a little exercise and break up the monotony of waiting for civilization to pull itself together by going door to door to check on your neighbors.

You might just save lives (or at least make some new friends), and there is nothing more badass than taking the time to take care of others in the middle of a community crisis. Just remember the first rule of emergency response: you can’t do any good to anyone if you get yourself killed or seriously injured in an attempt to help, so if a situation would require you to endanger yourself in order to be useful, call the pros. Inform the trained professionals and do what they tell you to do instead of adding one more needed rescue to their list.

So that is the best addendum I can offer to the BPD suggestions. Really and truly, take care of each other and don’t panic. If it gets really hairy, at least you’ll be able to tell the stories of how people came together for the rest of your hopefully long and unsnowy lives.

To Hold Lightning

Once upon a time (late 2009, to be precise), I started this blog. It began under a different name on Livejournal as a light-hearted way to keep in touch with family and friends while John and I were living in the distant heathen wasteland (kidding) of Massachusetts. My first post was about the absolute nightmare which is moving into Boston on September 1st (dear lord, DON’T) and was followed soon after by a haiku about the stupidity of walking barefoot onto a fire escape. Much more about the adventure of living than about anything of particular import.

My blog took a turn of sorts in 2010, when I moved the site to WordPress and changed the name to reflect my writing aspirations instead of our location, since we were getting ready to move in the not too distant future. My first post there is now HILARIOUS to me, since I have gone from being a rank n00b in WordPress to someone who is paid to shepherd other n00bs around their shiny new WordPress sites. The renaming of my blog has always worried me a little bit (is it too pretentious? I mean, it’s stuffy, which is okay because I’m stuffy, but is it off-puttingly snooty?), but I think now that the name “Between the Lightning Bug and the Lightning” has turned out to be very reflective of the struggle I’ve been going through in terms of what and what not to say online.

I have been too silent. I’ve been writing, mind you. I have a dozen drafts that have never made it into the public eye because after writing them with great passion, great anger, I calmed down and was afraid. Who am I to talk about the role of shared transgression in humor? Do I know enough about cultural appropriation to speak up in public about such a tricky issue? Does my role as a writer give me enough of a stake in what happened at Charlie Hebdo to speak to extremism and art as a weapon? Have I read enough modern philosophy to talk about the death of the author and the controversy with the Hugos? Is it okay for me to be publicly angry at the way that jackasses on the internet target opinionated women? Where’s the line between a productive expression of that anger and a non-productive joining of the troll hordes?

I’ve been stepping away from the lightning bugs, the funny little life stories, and stepping towards the lightning, the arena of Topics That Matter. But I’ve been afraid to hold the lightning and own it, so I’ve been too silent.

Recently, just to test the positioning of a reading lamp I had installed, I picked up a volume of essays by Emerson that was close by and ended up skimming “Self-Reliance” and I stayed put, captivated by this essay which I somehow had missed in my education (or forgotten), because of this piece in the first paragraph:

A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else, to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.

I had been talking with a friend not long ago about the challenge of being opinionated online as a woman. We were in agreement that it’s not the safest choice. It only takes one troll to decide you’re worth targeting to rain fire and frustration into your life. Anonymity is safer…but anonymity also reduces the impact of what you say. We went back and forth quite a bit, but ultimately, I walked away from the conversation feeling like I was doing myself a disservice in remaining quiet.

I wrote the bulk of this essay after that conversation a while ago, but I still held off on publishing it. It takes a lot of guts and a little stupidity to wield lightning, and I’m not convinced my balance of the two isn’t reversed. So I waffled and added this piece to the unpublished pile until earlier this week, when the remembrance of Martin Luther King Jr. brought some of his more famous masterly good sense to my attention: “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

Here’s to reaching for the gleam of lightning and surviving the inevitable burns.

Book Review: Groom of the Tyrannosaur Queen

tyrannosaur-queen-coverbMy friend Dan Bensen is giving us all a lovely New Year’s present: he’s releasing his book Groom of the Tyrannosaur Queen! This is a project I had the immense pleasure of reading while he was in his later revision stages awhile back. If you like super-cool future tech, dinosaurs, and philosophical barbarian kings, you’ll definite get your $3.99 out of this book, so you should probably go pre-order it now.

Quick Review:

Overall, I really enjoyed the story. Very cool world-building, interesting characters, fascinating tech and social structures. It’s the rich sort of place that leaves me wondering about the not-quite-told stories, of Andrea’s life in the future, of the time travelers who got lost in the past. And, of course, you can’t lose with riding dinosaurs. Who hasn’t imagined themselves in the T-rex rodeo? Seriously. AWESOME.

Once again: here’s where you pre-order for January 1. Go forth and enjoy.