London Setterby

short story round-up

2009-12-15T17:00:35Z

In my periodic breaks from frantic paper-writing, I have come across several short stories I quite liked, and so I thought I'd share. Hooray! I have a sneaking suspicion this is going to become a semi-regular thing.

The Waking of Agantyr
This is a retelling of a Norse myth by Marie Brennan (swan_tower ), in the second issue of Heroic Fantasy Quarterly. HFQ is an e-zine to watch, especially if it continues to take on stories that reinvent the heroic fantasy mold as well as Brennan's. Brennan's story achieved what I always seek in my writing--epic fantasy with a striking, unusual world that still feels relatable. She described the way she wrote this story on her website: how she cobbled together bits and pieces of what turned out to be a complicated bit of mythology to make a story (that truly should become a novel... please? :) ). I'm always impressed by Brennan's academic approach to her writing.

The Horrid Glory of its Wings
By Elizabeth Bear (matociquala ), on Tor.com. "Wings" is told from the point of view of a 17-year-old girl who meets a harpy in an alley. I was deeply impressed by how accurate and authentic the voice sounded, at least to me. I wasn't sure about the ending at first, but the more I thought about it and the more I read of the very insightful comments following the story, the more I began to love it. This one will stick with you.

Nick's First Word
By Sarah Rees Brennan (sarahtales ), on Rees Brennan's website (as her Christmas gift to her fans :) ). This is another example of an author perfectly capturing a difficult and unusual voice. It's written from the POV of the protagonist of her debut novel, The Demon's Lexicon, when said protagonist, Nick, was a wee five years old. It beautifully shows Nick's thought processes and unhappy family life. I loved how she contrasted the relationships between Nick, his brother Alan, and their father; the relationship between Nick and Alan made what would otherwise have been a sad story uplifting. (<3 Alan <3)

The Silver Khan
By Stephen Case. This story appeared in the same issue of Beneath Ceaseless Skies as "The Woman and the Mountain," about which I excitedly yammered on in this journal a few weeks ago. Well, I love this one, too. In this case, it wasn't the plot or characterization (as interesting as those were) that drew me in so much as the incredibly gorgeous and lush (and--bonus!--slightly creepy) imagery. I can't get the images from this story out of my head, in fact: from the statues in the gardens to the Khan's amazing airborne palace.

Okay, back to my paper on constitutional theory... :)

London

counting down the days

2009-12-07T13:52:25Z

This week: two final exams. Next week: two thirty-page research papers.

The week after that: Christmas!! For the first time in our four years together, Dan & I will be sharing our holidays, so, first we'll be going to his home state to hang out with his family (which includes lots of adorable tiny tots :D) and then back up north to see my family, and THEN my mom and I are driving across the country to tour wedding venues! I am being a completely self-indulgent diva bride-to-be, which is hilarious to me because I am about as tomboyish (some might say slobbish..) as you can get. I hate shopping (especially clothes shopping) but literally nothing makes me happier than looking at wedding dresses and venues online. I can't wait to have time to do it in person!

During all of the Christmas and venue-touring madness, I also plan on finishing a short story and perhaps starting a new novel, specifically, a stand-alone set in Cora's world. There is a historical anecdote in the Cora novels that is nagging me. I'll let you know how it goes. :)

In the meantime, I have to go back to studying, but I really am counting down the days! Happy holidays, y'all.

-London

thoughts on publishing

2009-11-17T14:19:46Z

Sigh: Really Good Might Not Be Good Enough, from Pub Rants. Basically, Kristin Nelson at Pub Rants is saying that agents are passing even on good projects these days, because everything seems to be a hard sell. It's a common refrain lately... plastered all over my Google Reader, in fact. They are all correct, of course. Times are tough. I suppose we aspiring authors should view this as an opportunity to keep refining our writing skills, working on new projects, and praying that the economy will pick up.

But... may I just say... *sigh.* I will be glad when our recession is really (instead of just technically) over.

Also it might also be a good idea to buy a lot of books as Christmas presents this year. :) Not that I needed another excuse to do that.

Anyone have good news or pictures of puppies to share?

London

shiny reads!

2009-11-06T18:38:08Z

In case you missed his earlier posts on this subject (as I did), Joshua Palmatier has just posted the sixth chapter of The Skewed Throne, book one in his Throne of Amenkor series. Eee! Exciting! That means the first six chapters are all available in pdf now on his LJ or website. I have to study for an ethics exam at the moment, but will be rewarding myself with a chapter when I'm done. Maybe you should consider the same? The reading part, not the ethics part. I mean, unless you really like learning about fee sharing agreements.

And for another awesome read, check out this short story, "The Woman and the Mountain," on Beneath Ceaseless Skies, a literary fantasy magazine for which I am full of <3 <3. I love the lovely literary fantasy. Oh, my.

I will write a real post again soon, I promise, but at least you have things to read now while you wait for me. ;)

-London

PS. Belated well wishes to the NaNoers! Someday I'll join your overcaffeinated ranks....

query shark is the best website ever

2009-10-07T11:49:41Z

I can't believe I only just found this website! It's so wonderful. Snarky AND informative--how could it get better?

At some point perhaps I will make a massive post of writing resources. I am accumulating a pretty good list of sites. (Although it's amazing all the quality sites you can still completely miss, like I did with Query Shark.)

That was all. :)

London

Race and writing

2009-10-01T21:59:59Z

Justine Larbalestier just posted a great conversation-sparker about how white writers benefit from their race when it comes to publishing, and about how white writers can incorporate race into their writing. Go read it if you haven't yet, as it is undoubtedly better than this post, but if you have already scoured the interwebs looking for ways to procrastinate,* read on!

White writers perennially complain that "you are damned if you don’t include people of color in your writing, and damned if you do." First of all, if by damned, you mean criticized, then damn straight. Criticism is good, fools. You should listen to it, which is not to say you should listen to the kind of silly tripe that ends up on The Worst Review Ever, but if someone is trying to engage you in a thoughtful debate, or if someone is reacting passionately against an error in judgment that you made--treasure that, because it is probably one of the most honest reactions to your writing you will ever get. We don’t write in vaccuums (that would be very dusty...lulz). Quite the opposite. Personally, I write because I have something to say and because I looove attention. Bad attention, good attention, I thrive on it. But really, a big part of being a writer is interacting with your readers, literally or through your writing. Even after you’re dead, people will be picking apart your books with their friends or, if you're lucky, in their English or creative writing classes. That is the nature of the beast. Roll with it, learn from it, and it will improve your outlook on life tremendously.

Secondly, writing fiction is exciting and interesting because it is a challenge. What is the point of doing it if you are going to rewrite the same dead trout of a story? Forget “write what you know.” Push yourself, reach, aspire to make something good! When it comes to race, ethnicity, gender, and class,** that means you have to challenge your knee-jerk reactions (which is to say, relying on cliches and stereotypes). It’s surprising how many layers of knee-jerk reactions you have to sift through before you can get to something fair and true about human nature & experience--and I might add, something original. Even if you don't give a damn about multiculturalism et al (but I hope you do!), it's worth challenging these knee-jerk reactions just to reach something really original and good. 'At last, something besides dead trout! An interesting, witty, unusual book that really looks at the human experience and human relationships.' Sounds good, right? So get to it!

Some of you are thinking, but I'm already a person of color... you're telling me to stop writing what I know, but that is what I know. Aha, well, if you happen to belong to a group that is a minority or that is stigmatized, write about it. Seriously. And then email it to me, because I love that stuff, can't find enough of it, and want to read it. Most of all, PLEASE do not feel ashamed about representing your group in your writing. You have access to a whole world of knowledge and information that can help you write truly outstanding, original fiction and contribute your unique voice to Publishing Land (and beyond!). Go with that. I would still encourage you to write outside your comfort zone, natch, but that's because I encourage everyone to do that.

Cheers,
London

*I would not know anything about said practices, but I am told other people—sad, lonely people—engage in them.

**And, I might add, mental illness and mental handicap. I have talked about that before on this blog.

a quick note in celebration of glbt pride day

2009-09-01T22:53:00Z

"As a member of the Outer Alliance, I advocate for queer speculative fiction and those who create, publish and support it, whatever their sexual orientation and gender identity. I make sure this is reflected in my actions and my work."
--Quoted here in support and celebration of the Outer Alliance Pride Day 9/1/09. Check out their website! I'm very happy to see that that the Outer Alliance exists and is getting some buzz around the blogosphere. :)

As for my own writing, well, I haven't written very much yet in general, not just on GBLT issues, but I definitely have grand plans. For now there is a gay character (just because he is, not as a plot point) in my Cora series, and my short story The Black Pond is a fantasy twist on transgender issues, gender self-identication, and other things.

Cheers,
London

finished with revisions... seriously... I mean it.

2009-08-22T15:23:36Z

Well, it's done. Do you hear that, subconscious?! Done!

Ahem... er... I mean to say that I finished my final set of revisions for Cora Book One. I'm not revising it any more, unless I have a very good reason, namely, an agent or editor telling me to. :) If that ever happens, I shall joyously revise as much as they want. But for now, it's finished. This novel has gone through *so many* drafts and revisions. It's getting ridiculous. Partly the problem is that, despite my complaining, I actually like to revise. I like watching my jumbled mess of ideas take some kind of shape, and believe me, there was no discernible shape to the first few drafts. :) Eventually, though, I end up neurotically rewriting sentences and fretting over whether I should use the word 'smile' or 'grin,' or perhaps abandon the whole overused concept of facial expressions...
Which leads me to my second problem. I have a very hard time letting go of this novel--much more so than with my other writing. For example, with the scholarly article I am working on, I can tell that there are certain groups of people who will enjoy and appreciate my article, and there are others who will not, depending on their preferences and beliefs about international law and so forth. This does not upset me. Although of course I wish people would agree with me, I don't take it personally when they don't. But with my novel, I have no ability to be objective whatsoever. Depending on my mood, my novel is the most brilliant thing ever, or it's complete dreck and no one will ever love me because I write such dreck. Etc. Because I'm a perfectionist, I think to myself, when I'm in the latter mood, 'if only I spent another 300 hours revising it, then it would be good, and my life would be worth living!' Even if that's true, you can't keep making that excuse indefinitely. Eventually you have to let it go, right? Otherwise I'll never have time to write the second and third books. Poor Cora will be left in that smelly cave for eternity, not to mention Evander, perennially pining away at the foot of the stairs for the loveliest girl in the world (not Cora... haha... no.). That would just not be very nice.*
So, it's done, and now I can turn my attentions to applying for post-law school jobs (joy of joys!), or, more likely, working on Book 2.

Until next time,
London

* Although, to be fair, some of my other characters would probably prefer *not* to meet the sticky ends that await them in books 2 and 3. Bwahahaha.

exciting bits of news

2009-08-18T15:55:13Z

Guess what, dudes? I have not one, but TWO exciting bits of news for you.

1) My boyfriend and I are engaged! Hooray! This came as a very big surprise to *me*, but to absolutely no one else, for two reasons. One: although we've been dating for almost four years, my boy is a notorious procrastinator, and so I occasionally enjoyed bouts of melodrama in which I despaired over the idea that he wouldn't propose for another ten years. No one else was worried about that, of course. And two: he told ALL of our friends and family while I was in DC, in a vain attempt to get help picking out a ring for me. Not only did he not like any of their suggestions, but my family gave him the completely wrong ring size! A size and a half too big, in fact. (This may be partially my fault, as I almost never wear jewelry. I prefer books.* BUT I love the ring he picked out for me! It's vastly shinier than I expected. He later revealed that he picked the cut & quality of diamonds to make sure that they would be extra shiny. Lo, he knows me better than I know myself.).

It's going to be a very, very long engagement--a year and a half, at least--but I'm still excited about it. I'm already arguing with my mother about the wedding, because, unlike my ~~boyfriend~~ fiance**, I like to get things done well ahead of time. I don't know why my mother can't get behind my ideas about a drunken beach wedding in which I don't have to wear shoes.

2) My second, and equally exciting, bit of news is this: Researchers in Canada have written a paper about the best way to defeat ZOMBIES. Forget about capturing or curing them, it's all about brute force, apparently. The researchers also weighed in on the classic slow zombie vs. fast zombie debate, albiet pithily. They decided not to include fast-moving zombies in their research because we have NO CHANCE of surviving an attack by fast zombies. (Unless, perhaps, we are very speedy with the head saws? Call me an optimist!) Go read that article at once if you haven't read it; there is the extra bonus of a fabulously punctuated name.

Apart from reading about zombies, I am STILL revising Cora Book One (almost done... almost done...) and, when sick of revising, plugging away at Cora Book Two. I've only written about 10,000 words in Book 2 this summer, which is sad in comparison to the 50k I wrote in Book 1 last summer. But with all these revisions, I suppose that's to be expected. Otherwise I've been writing a lot of cover letters in which I attempt to modestly tell people about how completely awesome I am, and staring at the shiny ring a lot.

How about you guys? Any news to share?

Until next time,
London

* Not wearing books... just cuddling with them from time to time.
** Whoops! Still not use to that.

another book-buying spree

2009-08-03T21:29:50Z

It's my last week in D.C. I can't believe how fast it all went by! That must be because I lucked out with my internship; I really have had a fantastic time. Now I get to look forward to (ahem) spending 8 hours in a car with my parents, and while it is of course very kind of them to drive me back to my other temporary address, I figured I would need something to do in between rest stops. To wit, I have bought books! I actually wanted, for once, to buy a couple of DVDs, but they didn't have the ones I wanted. (Naturally I wanted to buy DVDs that are based off of books, specifically, Jane Austen books. Why don't I own the Colin Firth version of Pride and Prejudice?! Why?!)

Anyway, here's what I bought:

The new version of that anatomy book is not on Amazon for some reason. Humph. But I love the idea of a travel guidebook for ancient Greece! That's my kind of history--lots of pictures and weird facts. Especially after reading cases & statutes all day. :P
Also, Maureen Johnson, I just wanted to let you know that I am personally subsidizing your lifestyle. I am your esteemed patroness. I am obsessively collecting all of your books and forcing them on my friends. They're not even fantasy! I mean, honestly! They're just so, so, SO good. I *loved* Girl At Sea especially. >heart<
Ok. Just an FYI. And for those of you who have not yet read any of her books, what are you waiting for? Do it! Do it now!

I'm off to do my crazy pilates dvd (I like to consider it "aspirational" pilates), but you will undoubtedly hear much more from me soon. Once I get back to the Arctic, I have a couple weeks in which to apply for jobs for post-graduation before my semester starts... which is to say, I will be religiously following LJ. :)

Go buy some books!
~London

first lines!

2009-07-14T02:56:05Z

Sometimes it's interesting to compare your different projects, no? I definitely see a few odd similarities. For example, why are all my short stories in first person pov at the moment, but my various novels-in-progress are in third?

Here's a sampling.

"The Snow Leopard"
We find their cave paintings still, and the images are always the same: the snow leopard, his teeth bared to the torchlight, picks out one from among the huddled crowd, while the others stand by and cover their eyes.

"My First Pair of Red Gloves"
I bought a new pair of brown leather gloves each week--the same style and shade, of course--but it was never soon enough for me.

THE GATES OF HORN AND IVORY (Cora Book 1)
Cora's nemesis, Selara, stood in the doorway with a wicked smile on her face.

SILK
Ray worked at the toll booth five days a week from three to ten, which is to say, he sat in the cash-only lane booth, eating Fritos, drumming his fingers on the counter, and listening to Led Zeppelin, in between accepting dollar bills and small collections of coins from surly vacationers.
--

Care to share your own?

-London (with a real post to follow... promise :) )

taking a break from the interwebs

2009-05-17T23:09:17Z

Hello all,
FYI I'm keeping my short story listed in my memories under "short story" or "black pond," as a freebie, in case any of you are interested in reading it later on.
In other news, I finally got my beach vacation! A real vacation, not a fake one. I have the sunburn to prove it, too. My lovely boyfriend and I ate lots of things, sat in little coffee shops, went on boat rides, went on a very long and pointless walk in an attempt to find a pretty place to walk, etc. We even spent a night drinking champagne and watching Harry Potter, lol. It was very, very, very nice, but now I'm back, with an alarming realization: I'm starting my summer internship next week! That means packing, moving, unpacking, working, then packing, moving, and unpacking again. During this time I hope to finish revising Cora Book 1 and start the submissions process. You may still find me at summerwrite2, because, even though I'm not officially joining in the fun (insanity?), I will be working on Cora Book 2 and will need word wars in a serious way. Apart from that, I will be scarce.

Cheers,

London

short story: the black pond

2009-05-06T14:56:09Z

Hello all! Well, I'm done with my semester and very happy about it. Revising book one and getting in a lot of non-law-school reading. (Finally read Uglies! Yay!). I also wrote a short story for a a contest over at merry_fates. It's rated PG-13 and is an emo little fairy tale about puberty and other such things. The prompt is this lovely painting, Princess Tuvstarr by John Bauer. Comments & questions most welcome. :)

The Black Pond

I don't know why it has to be in the freaking buff. That's one of my main problems with witches: the constant nudity.

I tried to cover myself with my hair--long hair is one of the benefits to being Appointed as a female--but it wasn't working.

"Tuvstarr," intoned my aunt, Dagny. "Tomorrow is your day of the Poj. It is the day you become a woman. The day you become a leader among our people. Are you ready, child?"

I muttered the standard reply: "I'm ready, Wise Earth Mother," blah blah blah. I shifted in the stone chair. My naked butt was starting to go numb. I could have ignored that—I could have ignored all of it—if I were telling the truth to old Dagny. If I were ready to become a woman the very next day, all of this would be fine. I would be happy. Most people, as far as I could tell, were happy about their poj.

Aunt Dagny picked up the ceremonial knife and held it in front of her face. "Tuvstarr, tonight you must cleanse yourself, in preparation for your sacred journey."

I watched her warily as she advanced on me with the knife. Another one of my aunts, Agneta, stepped out of the circle of women, holding incense. She waved it in front of my face as Dagny picked up my right hand. Dagny rambled on about something or other as she pressed the knife to my right palm. I flinched, but didn’t pull away, and when she set my right hand down, I held up my left obediently. It stung, but not that much. The knife was very sharp.

She dropped my left hand, and I placed both hands, palms up, on my knees, watching the blood trickle between my fingers and seep into the ends of my golden hair.

Dagny was still talking: Tonight, I would do no chores, because I was supposed to be thinking about the spirits, and I would wear no clothes, to symbolize my last night of childlike innocence.

Okay, I get it , I thought, trying not to roll my eyes. I thought about the time Linnéa and I found her uncle’s stash of happy mushrooms and went skipping through a forest made suddenly of thigh bones. Innocence. Whatever.

After several more speeches from Dagny, while blood dripped into my hair and down my knees, the ceremony ended. The circle of women around my stone throne relaxed into chit-chat. I heard a spatter of applause from the people who had been watching from the comfort of their tents, but truthfully most of the village had been sleeping for ages. The real excitement came tomorrow, during my poj.

I slid off the throne and peered past the gaggle of women, towards the tents surrounding us, looking for Linnéa despite my better judgment.

“Here you go, dear, here’s a bandage,” my aunt Agneta said, bustling over to me, the beads around her neck clanking.

“Thanks,” I muttered, as Agneta bandaged my hands. I wanted to ask her where Linnéa was, but I knew I should let it go. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Agneta smiled down at me. “Well, you’re supposed to find somewhere nice and quiet to think about your future. But, between you and me, the spirits will be none the wiser if you decide to think about your future in bed.” She tapped the side of her nose. “Go on, quick, before your mother spots you.”

I glanced at my mother, who was talking to Dagny. With a grateful nod at Agneta, I slipped through the crowd towards my family’s tent. Our tent perched on the outskirts of the clearing. Apart from the line of pine trees behind it, the land around my family’s tent swooped downwards into a bog, and then a deep, black pond.

I hovered in the doorway of the tent, holding the tent flap open and gazing at the uneven square of moonlight on my little brother’s cheekbone. He was seven years old—seven years younger than I was—and fast asleep, dreaming peacefully from the looks of things.

My little brother had been Appointed male just last year. My parents were thrilled to have a future male in the family.

They were not thrilled with me, although they didn’t show it. I was the only one in the history of our village to be Appointed before the age of three—the traditional year for the witches to decide on the child’s sex, although age six worked, too. “Look at your lovely golden hair and your pretty blue eyes,” everyone always said. “We all knew you’d be a female, even when you were a baby! You’re so sensitive.”

Sensitive.

I realized I was crushing the tent flap in my bandaged palm, making the blood leak out onto the tent hide, and I forced myself to open my hand. I would not be able to sleep tonight. I let the tent flap fall closed and stalked away from the village into the dark bog

*

The witches say that we are born genderless because of a curse cast upon us by our rivals, the havhäxa, the sea witches to the south. No one ever explained why they would have cursed us in such a stupid way. Why not blindness, or no feet or something? That’s why I always said we don’t need our witches to choose our genders for us, and we certainly don’t need the poj. If we let ourselves grow up naturally, we would probably turn out perfectly normal.

No one believes me. I don’t seem very normal to them, I guess.

*

I picked my way through the bog until I came to the black pond—where I stopped, up to my knees in slime, and stared at the shore of the pond in surprise. I recognized that faint, silvery glow. All of us fjalla – mountain people – are slightly luminescent. Something about living in a goddamned bog half the year will do that to you, or maybe it’s part of the curse. Most glows look the same, but not this one. Not to me.

I slogged through the bog, blades of swamp grass stabbing me in the legs, until I stood directly behind the rocks and clumps of grass that formed the shore of our black pond.

“Linnéa....”

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Hey, Star.”

Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. I climbed onto the rocks and sat down next to her, pulling my hair over my shoulders in another vain attempt to hide my nakedness and the streaks of mud and blood on my pale skin. “What’s up?” I asked her. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on the pond in front of us. I felt bad about catching her crying—but also intensely curious. She couldn’t be crying about my poj... could she?

Linnéa shrugged. She wiped her eyes on her arm, leaving a streak of mud on her cheek. Without thinking, I reached up and wiped the streak away with my thumb—and then my hand lingered there, brushing against her soft skin. Stop it, stop it! I told myself. I gathered the willpower to drop my arm, but before I could, Linnéa grabbed my hand.

My mouth fell open. Linnéa stared at me. Her silvery glow illuminated the tears in her pale green eyes, as well as her freckles, the smooth curve of her lips. I wanted to kiss her, so much I had forgotten how to breathe. I leaned forward.

Linnéa dropped my hand and turned sharply away. “This is wrong,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You’re a female.”

I sat back on my heels, dizzy and sick. “I don’t want....” I began, for the thousandth time, the millionth perhaps.

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” she snapped. “The witches decided, so that’s how it is. We can’t keep fooling around.”

I hugged my knees to my chest and stared out over the pond. I suddenly realized how cold and quiet the night was: no sounds or lights from the sleeping village, hardly any birds, just the insects and the occasional frog. I could see stars overhead, but even as I counted off the constellations I realized the stars made an awful distraction. All I could think of was lying next to Linnéa on this same shore, looking at those same stars—back before everything started to suck.

She didn’t think it was just fooling around—she couldn’t. We had shared too much together.

“We could run away,” I said, my heart beating faster. “I don’t know. Leave the bog... see the world.”

“Star...” She sounded exasperated. “Be serious. You can’t keep your child-body. You have to pojkor...”

“Or what, I turn into a big scary monster?” I said scornfully. “How can people believe that crap? It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

“It’s not crap. It’s the truth.”

“You don’t know that,” I insisted. “There’s no proof.”

Linnéa stood up, towering over me and casting her silvery light across the black pond. “Why can’t you just accept it? Why do you have to fight everything all the time?” she burst out. “I hate you sometimes—I really do!”

Tears seeped out of her eyes and she wiped them away angrily. Without another word, she turned and slogged into the bog.

“Linnéa!” I jumped to my feet. “Linn, don’t....” Don’t what? Don’t hurt me? Don’t leave me? Don’t make me turn into someone I’m not, because of some dumb superstitions?

Linnéa stopped walking. The swampy water swirled sluggishly around her knees. “I’m engaged, you know,” she said at last. “My parents worked out the rest of the deal this afternoon.”

I didn’t need to ask who she was engaged to. Since her bloody and horrible poj last year, her parents had been talking to Henrik’s parents, working out the number of hides that Linnéa’s love was worth.

I felt like I was going to throw up. I blinked a few times and, even though I knew she didn’t want to hear it, I tried again. “You could break it off. You haven’t made the vows yet, it’s not really official. If we left the village, we could have a life together....”

“If we leave the village before you pojkor, you’ll turn into a freak,” Linnéa said, without looking at me. “If we don’t leave, then tomorrow you become a woman.”

I opened my mouth to argue with her again about the curse and how stupid it was, but she turned to face me, her pretty lips pressed together.

“What you want,” she said, “is impossible. You need to suck it up. Pojkor tomorrow, and marry, I don’t know, Peder or someone. He likes you. You just have to do it, Star. Just like everyone else.”

I knew she felt this way. Everyone did. But my entire body was shaking anyway; that feeling of being about to throw up got worse. I hugged my arms to my chest and shivered. “I can’t,” I said. “That’s not who I am.”

“Then you’re a freak already.”

Her eyes were dry now. This time, it wasn’t an emotional I hate you. This was a statement of fact.

I had nothing to say. I stared down at my feet and watched my glow—gold, of course, like my hair—try to shimmer out through the muddy streaks on my skin. I didn’t look up when I heard Linnéa splashing away. I didn’t look up when I couldn’t hear her anymore.

Instead, I stood on the shore, frozen in place except for my shivering, as minute after minute slipped by. All of the judgments people made about me over my lifetime rolled through my thoughts. I came back to Linnéa’s over and over again, but it didn’t get any better.

When I started shivering so much I thought my knees were going to give out, I sat down on the shore. Holding my hair out of the way with my hands, I leaned forward to stare into the dark water. Ordinarily it would have made a terrible mirror, but with my gold glow, I could see myself perfectly fine. My blue eyes, my rosy cheeks, my delicate, genderless body.

What are you? I asked my reflection. Why is this harder for you than it is for other people?

I could pojkor tomorrow, marry Peder someday, and watch Linnéa marry that idiot, Henrik. I could refuse to pojkor tomorrow and be forced to do so at knifepoint by the witches, or be exiled, or both.

Or I could exile myself. Maybe turn into a monster, maybe not. Maybe it didn’t make much difference.

I couldn’t join the sea witches, but I could go north, where, legends had it, trolls roamed over frozen tundra; or I could go east. I had no idea what lay in that direction.

I frowned at my reflection and watched my mirror-image forehead crinkle.

I realized at that moment that I had already made up my mind. I would go east.

*

As it turned out, I did meet a group of trolls in my travels. They were not very monstrous, but tall and gentle, with noses like mushroom caps.

I scared one of the troll children half to death. She told me that troll children who didn’t obey their mothers turned into hideous, gangly-limbed creatures. Creatures that glowed.

“Now that doesn’t sound very likely, does it?” I said, smiling.

She gave me a thoughtful frown around the thumb in her mouth. I went on my way, whistling to myself.

study (or whatever) breaks 1 & 2

2009-04-22T18:16:45Z

In case any of you live under a rock, like me, I thought I'd share a couple of diversions that have been keeping me sane while I work on seemingly endless papers, mock trials, and exams. Yeah, probably everyone has known about both of these since "all your base are belong to us." But, like I said, just in case...

1. If you haven't seen Twilight the Musical yet, watch it! Watch it now! The first episode is pretty slow, but the second is hilarious. I adore their take on Edward, especially his hair and his angry drawing. Fear not, Twilight fans: While it is a parody, it is a gentle one. It's also surprisingly faithful to the text. I can't wait for the next episode, so in the meantime I have been obsessively checking their blog.

2. Next, everyone really has heard of the Eye of Argon, right? Somehow I found out about this glorious little gem only a few months ago. May I just say, it has improved my quality of life tremendously. I was reading an article about purple prose the other day and (while looking for my favorite example of [published] purple prose to show to my boyfriend--involving a lot of tropical birds) I stumbled across the MST3k version of the Eye (by a fan, not the show). This... seriously... this is *the funniest thing I have ever read.* I fell off my exercise ball. I cried. I threw up a little. Go forth & read it, as long as you are not in public.*

Now that I've brightened your day, I'm going back to studying. Only 5 1/2 more days, and then I'm done! :D

London

* We here in New England do not approve of showing merriment in public.

quit it, brain!

2009-04-13T21:32:57Z

Not only do I need to write a paper and study for a final exam, but I was, as you may have noticed, sort of in the middle of a YA fantasy trilogy. Well, despite this, my brain has decided to plague me with not one, not two, but FIVE new novel ideas. They are clamoring around in there like a bunch of freaking Pomeranians.
That's right. Pomeranians. You know, like this:

Only louder, and there's five of them.

My brain wants me to write:

a sci-fi dystopia
a gothic horror/romance
a very strange sort of...er...series of vignettes, I guess? Whatever it is, it's extremely insistent.
a novel based on a short story I've mentioned a couple times on this blog (which is why I should not write short stories... they all want to become novels)
and a very silly time travel novel, because, you know, why not?

Three of these are based on dreams that I've had, and the other two are just... random. Random, I tell you.

That is all.

London

fake fail?

2009-03-18T03:28:18Z

Sadly, my fake vacation plans did not work out well. I dropped a dresser drawer on my foot the day after I wrote my last post. I was basically couch-ridden (?) for three days. It was so hard to stand I couldn't even put my fake tanner on. *sigh* Life is unfair.

In other, happier news, today I heard back about a very nice scholarship that I applied for, to help me with my 3L year. I submitted the application earlier this month, and I have made the first cut, hooray! Now I have to go in for an interview-type thing. I hope my nasty swollen foot is more aesthetically pleasing by then, because I'm going to go hog wild trying to look presentable for this interview. That's right... Not only will I change out of my penguin pajamas, I will put on shoes that are not sneakers, and, maybe, like... a skirt. With a button down. I could even wear my suit. (I do own a suit. It's a rite of passage for law students everywhere. As is immediately molding it to our bodies with fear-induced sweat.)

In even happier news.... uh... okay, I don't have any. But if you need cheering up, I suggest pandas.

That is all.

London

fake vacay. who's with me?

2009-03-10T22:45:22Z

Well, it's my spring break. Sadly I am, as usual, too broke to go on vacation, and even sadly-er, I have to write a difficult and frequently infuriating paper about Liberia* over break, in addition to my usual pile of homework.
To console myself, I have bought:

self-tanner lotion for body
sparkly bronze face powder
coconut body spray

Which I am combining with:

coconut and passionfruit rum
salsa music
possibly more glitter

And here's why. As you have probably gleaned from my last post, I'm getting a little tired of wintry new england. It snowed, sleeted, hailed, and rained yesterday. The end of all this nonsense is not as in sight as I would wish it to be. I'm also tired of the perpetual new england fasion, which is, for those of you who were unaware, permanently looking as though you're about to go for a trot around the paddock on your dappled grey: long hair in a ponytail, riding boots, leggings, a short pea coat, gloves, etc. It's a nice look, but I'm getting bored of it. I went to undergrad in Florida, and I still miss wild tacky colors, sundresses, bangles and flipflops. Anyway, in a nutshell, since I've moved back up north, I usually look like this:

Which is great and all**, but I'd love to be more along the lines of this, if only for a week or two:

Doesn't her tiny fake pool look awesome?

Off to get more glitter.... who's with me?

London

* It's supposed to be about the legal system in Liberia. But recently the Minister of Justice in Liberia decided to *copyright* the Liberian legal code and sell it for $5,000 a pop. The American Bar Association wants to rectify this by putting the laws online, but, sadly, to post Liberian laws online, you must get permission from.... you guessed it! The Minister of Justice.
** I actually adore Angelica Houston (and Morticia, for that matter).

why I am moving back south as soon as I graduate:

2009-03-02T13:51:40Z

This is the weather report for today:

Snow Blowing Snow Freezing Fog
At 9 am...snow. Temperature around 23. North winds around 20 mph with gusts up to 35 mph. At 11 am...snow. Temperature around 23. North winds around 20 mph with gusts up to 35 mph. At 1 PM...snow. Temperature around 24. North winds around 20 mph with gusts up to 35 mph.

Yech.
London

the other meets modern psychology

2009-02-20T04:02:36Z

Last week, while I was working on an infernally difficult case for clinic¹, I started another short story. It takes place in part on the subway, because that’s where I was spending a lot of my time, commuting from the law school to the downtown clinic office.

The protagonist, whose name is Katie, has obsessive-compulsive disorder, and some phobias, and possibly a few other things. In the story proper, we learn that she has a phobia of cars, but she also loathes germs, thanks to the OCD, which makes commuting extremely difficult for her. She’s also a lawyer²--a trusts and estates lawyer, which makes her attention to detail a Good Thing(tm).

I have read a lot of blog posts from fantasy/sci-fi novelists discussing the portrayal of disabilities in our genre. I agree that it is troubling to include physically disabled characters in our fiction *only* when we give that character some kind of special, magical trait/ability to “make up” for his or her disability. It seems much better to portray the character with a physical disability managing his disability in his daily life and living his life as his personality dictates, just like people do in the real world. He does *not* need magical powers to make him a “whole” person. Nor does he need them to defeat Ye Olde Evil-Doer.

My character, Katie, got me thinking. I know how I feel about writing about characters with physical disabilities. But I don’t know how this should translate (if at all) to writing about characters with psychological conditions. So, in Katie’s case, am I being a hypocrite by showing how my character benefits from her condition in her work (to the extent that she does)? Her condition certainly bleeds into her personality; and I am showing how she suffers because of her condition, too, as well as how she tries to cope with it. It is not giving her superpowers.

But writing about her still makes me sort of nervous. I’m not a psychologist by any stretch of the imagination. More to the point, I don’t have OCD. I don’t want to offend people who have OCD³ or who have loved ones with it. I am fascinated by psychology, think about it all the time, and try to understand the human mind. But my understanding of it is not perfect. Not even close.

Here’s the thing, though. Even though I don’t have OCD, I *really* relate to the condition. This character, Katie, is more like me than any of the other characters I have ever written.⁴ Even though she has OCD. For that matter, even though she is 40 and I’m 24, or even though she is a partner at a trusts and estates law firm, while I am a law student with aspirations to public service, and so on. We’re different, but if I met her in real life, I would feel like I understood her. Like we would “get” each other.

The conundrum reminds me of the controversial post from a few months back by E. Bear (matociquala ), although she was talking about the Other in sci-fi/fantasy in general, with a focus on race. If I relate to Katie, am I still writing about the Other, even though she has a psychological condition that I do not have? I can’t tell where the process of character-building turns into writing about the Other, especially where psychological conditions are concerned.

For that matter, now that I look at it, it seems like a lot of my characters could be diagnosed with some kind of psychological condition, if they had access to modern psychology. From compulsively stealing to severe depression, my characters are a troubled lot. If I tried to break the usual mold of my writing, consequently, I’d end up writing about someone relentlessly happy and suburbia-normal. (Now *that* sounds like the Other to me. :) )⁵

What do you lot think? Do you see commonalities in your characters? Do you write about the Other? What aspect of the Other do you write about? Where do psychological conditions fall into this mix?

--London

Edited to fix some wonky formatting... apologies... :)

..................................................

1. Since finished. Don’t worry.
2. My very first lawyer character.
3. Now, don’t get me wrong... you’re always going to offend somebody with your writing, even if you write about bougainvillea or bouillabaisse. But I am of the school of thought that you should offend *intentionally*--in the sense that you should know what you are saying (on the various levels through which it can be interpreted, not just the most obvious one to you) and you should believe what you’re saying, too. If I don’t know very much about mental illness, how can I know what I’m writing about on all these levels, and be certain that I believe in it? You see my conundrum. :)
4. Except maybe one, Ressy, who is from my Cora novels. Ressy opens up another can of worms for me as a writer. More on that some other time.
5. Frequent readers will notice that I have actually already done this, when I accidentally wrote a short story that was completely realist (no fantasy! wtf?!), from a man’s pov, and set in modern-day America. I broke my mold in every way with that story (except for the geeky obsession with ancient languages), and that includes writing about a relatively normal, well-adjusted guy. But I’ll admit it, even *he* wasn’t suburbia-normal. More like city-normal. Someday I’ll get around to writing about suburbia, promise....

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2009-02-09T12:38:03Z

new novel squee, & pondering about titles

2009-02-04T16:32:32Z

I started book two of the Cora series today. I love the thrill of starting a new project. It's scary and exciting and daunting and awesome. :)

Weirdly enough, I finally came up with a title for this book today, too. Good thing, because I am now stressing about the title of the first book. I've been thinking about how to revise book one, and whether to connect the title to the plot more or leave it alone... or just change the title. Sigh.

What do you guys think? How close should a title be to the story? Do readers prefer the "aha! that's what the title means" moment, or is it better to use a title as an analogy that they can take or leave?

London

promo hat? check!

2009-01-26T23:01:32Z

Have I mentioned how much I adore Zoe Keating? She is a very unusual cellist. She uses looping while she plays the cello in order to sound like a crazy fantastic techno orchestra all by herself. Very much worth checking out.

That is all.

London

wake up call to myself

2009-01-19T14:14:19Z

I needed a little extra motivation to get up early and do my homework this morning, so I decided to read the business news for a few minutes. I like getting all riled up first thing on a Monday morning, and we all know how much there is to get riled up about these days.

But then I found this, which is making me grim, as opposed to riled: Interest Rate Drop Has Dire Results for Legal Aid. Apparently legal aid societies across the country -- including the ones in my own city -- are even worse off than I had thought. :That means some of the poorest people in our country won't be able to get help with the most basic services: like keeping their house from being foreclosed on (even if only while they find someplace else to go), making sure they have heat in this terrible 5 degree weather, getting unemployment benefits after being laid off, and so on.

Since I'm in a clinic I am basically working for a legal aid society this year (for free of course). I have been resisting taking on a new case because I'm feeling overwhelmed with the amount of work I have to do for journal and my classes and everything else. But that's really a poor excuse. Sorry, me, but it is. I have the ability to relieve my local legal aid society of a small piece of its heavy burden and help protect individuals belonging to some of our most vulnerable populations. If I do a good job on a housing case, I can make the difference between a warm, safe home for my future client, and homelessness. Worrying about my paper for journal really should not come into this equation.

It's too easy to forget the importance of looking after one another when times get tough like this.

ahaha!

2008-12-27T23:31:46Z

I finished my novel! Hooray! Strangely enough it came in at 89,900 words (I had predicted 90,000).

First I finished all of the revisions I needed to do, and then I wrote three chapters (and expanded on a few others), which means I ended up writing about 10,000 words this week.** Glorious! It was a great feeling to finally type THE END!!1!!!!.

Of course we'll see how high my spirits are after I show it to a few people. Hah. (Speaking of which, I could use some beta readers if anyone out there is interested/knows somebody!) But for now, I'm going to bask in my sense of accomplishment... and eat more Christmas cookies.

Happy holidays all!

London

** I promise I wasn't entirely antisocial over the holidays, though. No more so than usual. ;)

god i love buying books!!

2008-12-03T12:04:06Z

I'm doing my part to help out our sagging publishing industry. Here's a list of what I'm getting my sister for her birthday (Dec. 6):

And probably a few other books and some other stuff. :) My sister and I, as this list makes obvious, have the same taste in books. But unlike me she does not obsessively follow writers' and agents' and publishers' blogs, so she relies on me to clue her in to awesome new books. And I do. I love doing it. I wish I know more people that liked fantasy so I could go on excited tangents about books to them and buy them books for every possible occasion. Alas, I do not.

In case you're wondering, at the top of my own wishlist at the moment there is: The Hunger Games and How to Ditch Your Fairy.

Want. So. Bad.

I will be done with exams, papers, and hearings (for now) as of next Wednesday Dec. 10. I can't wait to make a bookstore/library run and catch up on more of the fiction I have been drooling over lately. Incidentally, speaking of winter break, remember how I posted all these writing goals last time? While I was supposed to be writing a really, really awful paper, I accidentally completed a bunch of my revision goals. Nothing like having important work to do to make revision seem like fun.

Back to work,

London