Going Down with the Ship

I have a shipping problem.

Probably you're enough like me that I don't need to clarify that I'm not talking about postage rates, but just in case.

I don't read romance novels, but some of my very favorite books and television shows include pretty spectacular romances. I crave adventure and love, which I feel is pretty fair. I need my OTP making out in space, or castles, or castles in space, perhaps prior to an epic throw down with an interstellar vessel stuffed with dungeon trolls.

I'm also a notorious canon shipper, and have very little patience for pairings that go against what an author has written - unless it's written very poorly, in which case I don't care enough to feel invested anyway. But, to each their own. One of the few exceptions is probably Captain Janeway/Chakotay, after she's been a determined and frosty badass and gotten them home safely from the Delta Quadrant, of course. And Trip/T'Pol. What is it with Star Trek effing with my heart?

But really, I'm just a Hermione/Ron, Katniss/Peeta, Lizzie/Darcy sort of gal. I trust the writers whose stories that I love and enjoy re-reading and re-watching, picking up the sly sweetness at the start of a relationship that I missed the first time around. If it's a good ship, it's good whether I see it coming or not. And the best ones, at least for me, are always intended.

Which is why I am feeling like a bit of a pariah after a recent re-watching of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Because if I was shaken by the chemistry between Rey and Kylo Ren during my first two viewings in the theaters, the privacy of my own home - and replaying their scenes - has me reeling.

Reylo is on my mind, you guys, in a big way. I'm a fan of the Rey is a Kenobi theory, and at the very least, feel it would be far too easy for her to be a Skywalker. It just seems to me like it would be an absolute waste to ignore what's going on between these two every time they're on screen together, to the degree that their scenes seem intentionally charged. That we see his face first when she does. That she overpowers him, and his first response isn't to try and break her.

And the bridal carry. Come on.

I also feel like Reylo gives me, at least, what I need out of the series. In KOTOR, there's an interesting precedent for those who have fallen to the dark side to return to the light, and I need to see a Skywalker truly redeemed - Ren's slavish devotion to his grandfather's work renders Vader's last scene with Luke pretty hollow. Can Vader really be saved if his progeny continue to wreak havoc on the galaxy? Where's the balance we were promised?

And then there's this, which is honestly such a lovely parallel I can't even deal.

So I suppose I have my first trash ship. I am unlikely to let this go until 2017, at which point I hope I'm shouting, "Canon, bishes!"

To Bethany, on her Birthday

Certain days feel special. On Saturday we drove a little more than an hour to Lexington, Kentucky to visit a dear friend. After arriving at what I thought would be a splash park that actually turned out to be a pool and waiting twenty minutes in the snack bar watching my children pick at a grilled cheese sandwich while said friend returned home for towels and sunscreen and a borrowed suit, we waded into shallow water and comfortable conversation. We bobbed small people on hips and knees and water-slick backs. There was much tickling of little tummies and talks of recipes, families, and the things that have changed since we'd last seen each other.

She moved to Lexington more than a year ago to be with her fiance, and has since married and baked, I am sure, several dozen delicious pies. She has read books we haven't had a chance to talk about. Weeded her garden and watched it grow. Played records and danced in bare feet on rugs and hardwood and summer-starched grass.

It was a special day because it was a familiar day, a falling into the feelings of years past when we shared a city and the close companionship a short drive allowed.

I do not see you as often as I would like, Bethany, Betsy, Bets, she who taught me the art of piles, and I certainly do not call or text as often as I should, but I do admire and love you so. I imagine your cozy domestic round and you in it, eyes both sharp and soft behind vintage frames, and I am happy, even if I must be so from so far away.

Happy Birthday, friend. I hope the coming year is as spectacularly lovely as you are.

Cosplay is my Jam

It's no secret that I love cosplay. Having and nursing babies has really cramped my style in attending my favorite convention for it, Dragon*Con, but not this year. And while it's likely far too ambitious on my part - especially since it's already July and I've barely gotten started - I'm planning at least two new costumes, possibly three. I'm positively slavish when it comes to accuracy, too, so my ambition is further compromised by the fact that two of the three really require some serious replication. Oh, well. Who am I if not stressing over fictions?

I fell for Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries pretty hard after my best friend recommended it to me, as would anyone with an interest in noir, beautiful period clothing, and/or boss ladies of many stripes. Coincidentally, my best friend practically is Miss Fisher in looks and (some) deeds, and as we're going to the con together, I thought, how much fun would it be to cosplay the lady detective and her modest but no-less-badass companion?

Dorothy, or Dot, or Dottie, Williams is a pretty fabulous character who gives me an excuse to wear a cloche. How could I say no? Nevertheless, I fear that her costume, needing the most from me in terms of sewing (read: making time to sew), may not happen. But she's so cute how can I not hope?

Because I'll be a panelist at Imaginarium this year and they have an annual literary costume ball, I figured I ought to finally live the dream of cosplaying Ms. Frizzle from one of my childhood favorites, The Magic School Bus. I found a dress that should be easy to work with in terms of making it look genuinely Frizz, and I have a crinoline from my brief stint as a female 10th Doctor that should give the skirt enough sass. I'll also have the opportunity to add to my already extensive collection of red wigs. Which is to say, I'll now have two.

Miss E also loves The Magic School Bus, so I should earn some pretty killer mama points come Halloween.

But the costume where my heart really lies is also the one I'm most likely to fret over perfection, which is Agent Peggy Carter, and specifically, her blue suit. I acquired something that may work on eBay, but the cut of the skirt is all wrong, and my brain is railing against wearing a pencil skirt when hers is obviously a-line.

Yes, these are the things that actually keep me from sleeping some nights. In addition to, you know, real problems.

But the color is perfect and I question my capacity to sew something so structured from scratch, so, we'll see how rusty my alteration skills are. I've avoided getting a hair cut to make her lovely tresses happen, so you know I'm committed.

Possibly institutionalized.

Say Yes

Saying “yes” to myself feels like I’m taking a page out of my 3-year-old’s book, but given 2016 has thus far felt like the year of saying “no” – including all too frequently to her – and it hasn’t been the happiest or the most productive, I’m changing my tune. Read a book for two hours instead of folding the laundry? Yes.

Ice cream on the way home after a long day? Yes.

New dress? Yes.

Take a nap when I have an hour to myself rather than the myriad of other things demanding my attention? Yes.

Blog without an agenda? Yes.

I’ve never felt like creation is born from misery, at least not for me. I am not a tortured artist. Cranky, yes. But not tortured. If I’m going to create, not to mention if I’m going to be a good mother, wife, and friend, I need to take better care of myself.

And I absolutely have not been.

So I’m writing about this, because that’s what I do. And I’m writing about it here, because how I used to blog is how I’d like to blog again. It was a conversation, an invitation, a play of words between friends. I want that honesty, that frivolity, that refreshing dialogue that wasn’t about making an impression but rather just making fun.

Which is why I want to know, what’s the last thing you said “yes” to?

Books to Grow On

Writers are always readers first. It's Children's Book Week, and I'd been thinking all about my girls and what they love to read before a post from my best library reminded me of my own favorites as a child.

I distinctly remember making a weekly visit to the library in my hometown (it was such a small place it was actually a home village) and checking out as many books as my mom would allow - and beginning to read them in the car despite her warning that if I finished them all before the week was up, I'd just have to wait until we could make it back to the library again. I was used to lingering in the early readers, repeatedly checking out In a Dark, Dark Room and Other Scary Stories because my oldest daughter didn't get her Wednesday Addams tendencies from thin air.

I was in third or fourth grade when I decided I wanted a BIG book, and pushed a stool against the shelf of juvenile fiction and selected the largest tome I laid eyes on among the As. It was Avi's Bright Shadow, and in addition to being the longest book I'd ever attempted to read, it would be my first fantasy, too.

I remember the book feeling mysterious and dark and possible, the magic delicious and different, and I remember, too, the extreme satisfaction of finishing. Even just seeing the cover again gives me tingles. There'd be no going back to Cam Jansen, now. I'd seen what a character-driven narrative arc could do, and I wanted more.

Favorites in later years included Julie of the Wolves, A Wrinkle in Time, Island of the Blue Dolphins, The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Anne of Green Gables, The Boxcar Children, Pippi Longstocking, Heidi, Little House in the Big Woods, The BFG, and so many more. As a child, I was not a particular reader - I would read anything. My mom and dad would pick up stacks of books for me at yard sales or flea markets and within fifteen seconds of thanking them I would be invisible behind the spine of one of my latest acquisitions. I enjoyed, and still do, books about uncanny girls and strange happenings and compelling, believable settings, whether historical or otherwise.

There's still something about that Avi, though. A young girl? A friendship? Struggling with how to spend the last five wishes in a whole kingdom? Feels to me like the beginning of just the sort of thing I'd spend the rest of my life hoping to write.

Five Favorite Reads of 2015

Though I really tried to squeeze one last book in - I just finished Kirsty Logan's The Grace Keepers - I'm not too displeased with what I managed to read in 2015, given what a temperamental year I've had. We moved - twice, really, as we had a six-week stint with family before finding a new home - I began a new job I did not love, I left that job for another that I love so much I ought to marry it, after the closure of my first publisher I signed with a new one, and I've spent the last few months scrambling to stay well ahead of a deadline for the sequel to The Hidden Icon. The bad news is that I didn't meet my personal deadline of this past weekend, the good news is I'm super close. But on to what I've read this year, despite me being me. While Garth Nix's Clariel had a slow start, my anticipation of more stories from his beautifully imagined Old Kingdom and the book's absolutely killer second half secured its place in my heart. It wasn't the story I expected or even a story I was sure that I wanted, once I realized what I was reading. But I was delighted to be wrong, on all counts, and am really looking forward to Nix returning to the Old Kingdom again, which it is rumored he will, with more of my beloved Lirael. It is not remotely surprising that I loved Amy Poehler's Yes Please, even though it confirmed for me that I am just not cool enough to like Amy Poehler. She's so very real and very funny. One of my favorite parts was her admonishing readers to stop reading and call their mothers to hear the story of the day that they were born, if they hadn't heard it already. I learned that my mother's OB-GYN encouraged her to drink a beer when she thought she was in labor, and if that didn't stop the contractions, to come into the hospital. Much though I'd like to think my birth was heralded by a craft brew of some kind, I expect it was Budweiser. Ah, well. Erika Johansen's The Queen of the Tearling wasn't without flaws, but I admired her daring as a writer so much, the world she built, the questions she left boldly unanswered, and more than anything, a whole, complicated heroine in Kelsea. I was willing to follow her anywhere. Right into the sequel, in fact, given it's waiting right now on my bookshelf to be read.

There are few writers whose imaginations delight me as much as Laura Bickle's, and Dark Alchemy was everything I've come to expect from her: playful, wicked, and unexpectedly dark. Petra Dee was intimately likeable from the start, with just enough mystery and flirt to pull me along to the book's satisfying, if so very sad, conclusion. Both Dark Alchemy and the sequel, Mercury Retrograde, are quick, easy reads, and explore territory you won't find anywhere else in urban fantasy. Easily my favorite book of the year, though, was Naomi Novik's Uprooted. It wasn't a fairy tale retelling but had all of the best elements of a genre I love so much; it felt fresh and familiar at the same time, was delicious and creepy and just plain cool. Though I could guess from early on the characters' trajectories, I was nevertheless delighted that she could still surprise me, and that even what I'd guessed at played out in a pretty spectacularly unusual way.

What about you? What did you read and love this year?

Top 5 Book Crushes

I don't actually watch that much television, or rather, I mostly just watch the same television shows over and over, so given I've shared my TV crushes it only makes sense to share my literary crushes, too. Because I do read quite a lot, though not as much as I used to, and never enough.

I could really just admit to my ardent love of Bran from Juliet Marillier's Son of the Shadows and be done with it. From my first reading to a yearly reading, I never tire of his and Liadan's story. Their dynamic is incredibly real and the way that his story unravels, such a beautiful compliment to Liadan's own, makes my heart ache every time. In fact, I might stop writing this blog just so I can read the book again.

I can't say anything about Er Lang from The Ghost Bride without spoiling some really delicious stuff. Suffice to say, if you haven't read this yet, read it YESTERDAY. Er Lang is irresistibly interesting in the way that the Doctor is: dangerous and uncanny, but you can't stop thinking about him. I actually just downloaded the audiobook version, which is narrated by the author, and it was just as delightful as the text.

While I'm anti-team anybody because I feel it is stupid and so beside the point, I was very much wooed by Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games, and better still the way he challenges Katniss. I feel like she's a better character because of the conflict that arises not between she and Peeta and Gale, but because of what she's given the space to learn about herself, to be a flawed and curious young woman even in the face of unspeakable horrors.

Dreadnaught Stanton from The Native Star is just the sort of book fella I'm likely to fall for. He's grumpy and mysterious and gives as good as he gets with the book's protagonist. Stanton isn't what you expect him to be, and there's a tragedy at the heart of his story that just might stop yours. Sound familiar? Yeah. It's a problem.

Maybe it's because I read them growing up together or maybe it's because being bridled to Harry Potter's perspective - thereby eliminating any chance that I'd crush on him, after the fifth book - but I've always fancied Ron Weasley. He can be a total grouch and yet unspeakably tender, he makes mistakes, he hesitates, he struggles with being his own man while still being utterly devoted to the people that he cares for.

Also, he loves my girl Hermione, and that proves he's got sense.

So, who're your book crushes? Bonus points for pictures, because finding renderings of mine made writing this blog post even more of a delight.

Top 5 Television Crushes

If you've ever fallen for a fictional character, we should get a drink sometime and discuss our unreasonably broken hearts. Or at least obsessively YouTube clips of the following. Because really, it's my love of their stories that's really behind all of the blushing. Sure, they're hot stuff, but the way they move... through an expertly crafted narrative, that's the thing. Right.

John Crichton is the first and the finest of men I've fancied on the screen. My attachment is likely aided by a serious girl crush on Aeryn Sun. Who doesn't want to be Aeryn?! I actually didn't watch Farscape when it was on the air, but caught The Peacekeeper Wars when it aired for the first time when I was in college. I was hooked. Despite having seen the end of the story first, I found the series full of surprises. And delicious wardrobe changes for Commander Crichton.

Because I do love a man in a space-faring uniform, Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III from Star Trek: Enterprise is a forever favorite. Enterprise is the most underrated Star Trek series, and not just because this Chief Engineer is worthy of more than four seasons and a better end - don't even talk to me about the series finale, because I've never watched it, and I never will.

They say that you always love your first Doctor, and while Christopher Eccleston as Nine surely occupies an eccentric corner of my heart, Ten will always be the TImelord I'll pine for. His suits. HIs swagger. His silliness. Though I grew to appreciate Eleven in time, I'm not sure I'll ever weather the oncoming storm.

Why wear my heart on my sleeve when I can wear a brown coat? Malcolm Reynolds, of all the fellas to admire on Firefly, is just my type: a guarded asshole who nevertheless FEELS ALL THE FEELINGS.

Which maybe explains why I love Logan Echolls so much, the man who occupies the one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-others place on this list. Veronica Mars may not be set in space, but it's clever girl noir and exceedingly worthy of all your love and attention. Logan is a surprisingly dynamic and genuine character, and hot enough that you're willing to ignore the puka shell necklace.

ETA: And an honorable mention to Jamie Fraser of Outlander, because, obviously. Perhaps I initially failed to include him because he really would've taken up two spots: one for himself, and one for his amazing shoulders.

Read Harder 2016

I can’t resist a good list or a good challenge, especially when books are involved. After taking a look at how paltry few books I was able to finish in 2015, I’m hoping the structure provided by Book Riot’s Read Harder Challenge 2016 will be what I need not only to keep reading, but also to discover some new literary loves I might not have otherwise.

To keep myself honest and to avoid scrambling for my next read, I’ve plotted out the books I’d like to read for each category. I’m not married to these and willing to swap out if I get better recommendations, so. Have a favorite that fits? Read one of these and it’s terrible? Come at me.

Also, keep me honest and play along?

Read a horror book. Christina Henry’s Alice.

Read a nonfiction book about science. George Musser’s Spooky Action at a Distance: The Phenomenon That Reimagines Space and Time--and What It Means for Black Holes, the Big Bang, and Theories of Everything.

Read a collection of essays. Ryann Britt’s Luke Skywalker Can’t Read: And Other Geeky Truths.

Read a book out loud to someone else. E.B. White’s Stuart Little.

Read a middle grade novel. Katrina Nannestad’s When Mischief Came to Town.

Read a biography. Nancy Milford’s Zelda.

Read a dystopian or post-apocalyptic novel. Marie Lu’s Legend.

Read a book originally published in the year that you were born. William Gibson’s Burning Chrome.

Listen to an audio book that has won an Audie Award. Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book.

Read a book over 500 pages long. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah.

Read a book under 100 pages. Shannon Hale’s The Princess in Black.

Read a book by or about a person who identifies as transgender. Charlie Jane Anders’ Six Months, Three Days.

Read a book that is set in the Middle East. G. Willow Wilson’s Cairo.

Read a book that is by an author from Southeast Asia. Shawna Yang Ryan’s Water Ghosts.

Read a book of historical fiction set before 1900. Emily Holleman’s Cleopatra’s Shadows.

Read the first book in a series by a person of color. Zen Cho’s Sorcerer to the Crown.

Read a non-superhero comic that debuted in the last three years. Danica Novgorodoff’s The Undertaking of Lily Chen.

Read a book that was adapted into a movie, then watch the movie. Debate which is better. Gail Carson Levine’s Ella Enchanted.

Read a nonfiction book about feminism or dealing with feminist themes. Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist.

Read a book about religion (fiction or nonfiction). Alice Hoffman’s The Dovekeepers.

Read a book about politics, in your country or another (fiction or nonfiction). Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.

Read a food memoir. William Alexander’s 52 Loaves.

Read a play. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata.

Read a book with a main character that has a mental illness. Neal Shusterman’s Challenger Deep.

Back to Basics

Whenever I find it hard to settle to writing, as I have lately, there are a few things I've found I can do to work around my reticence. It's not writer's block, really, because I've usually got an idea of where I'm going and even a few scenes I legitimately want to have written (if not necessarily the want to write them). And I've got even less of an excuse now, with the bulk of the writing done but for a few scenes to be massaged in amid the usual rounds of edits. I clean my desk. My writing desk is cozied up to our fireplace and there's nothing on it but a lamp and the "good" colored pencils my daughters aren't allowed to scribble with arranged in an open glass container. So, it doesn't take long, and it's sort of a mental cleanse, too, to prepare me to get down to business.

I make myself a drink. Sometimes it's iced coffee with too much milk and sugar. Sometimes it's wine. On a special occasion, bourbon and cider. But having something to sip while I compel my brain to drip, drip, drip words onto the page is essential.

I get back to basics. I put one of my favorite pens to the physical page and just write. It's usually not much to speak of, but it's enough that I can say the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, that I've written everyday, that I'm making progress. It's enough to get me over the sometimes crippling uncertainty and exhaustion inspired by a blinking cursor. I've learned to celebrate time spent writing, rather than word count, so the reminder at the bottom of my screen of how much I've done and how much I have to go can be debilitating.

And not just because my word count is a vain number, given how ruthlessly slashed it will be when it comes time to edit.

There's also just something about being able to physically hold a piece of writing that's very powerful. I've found that during the editing process, especially, I want to tear a story up into pieces and rearrange it, want to be able to manipulate it with my hands. While I've seen some folks do this to great effect during brainstorming and outlining a longer work, I've never been able to make it happen with something novel-length. Maybe some desperate night, when no amount of coffee or wine or bourbon can help me to make sense of my made-up worlds, I'll give it another try.

But until then, I'll keep doing what I'm doing, day by day, bit by bit.