Flight into Fantasy

One of my friends, whom I reconnected with on twitter a few months ago, has an expression. There are things in life that keep happening, over and over, that are annoying each and every time they come up. My friend has a number of these, and I do, too. My friend calls these his bowls of petunias, in reference to a quote in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The one line the bowl of petunias gets in that book, if you’ll recall, is, “Oh, no, not again.” Which is generally the reaction that I have whenever my bowls of petunias come up. Naturally, I’m usually not quite as resigned as the bowl of petunias is in the book, and I’m more inclined to post repetitive blog rants.

So, let’s just talk about one of my particular bowls of petunias one more time. I am, of course, speaking of ebook accessibility, a subject about which I feel somewhat strongly, by which I mean it is the one topic guaranteed to make me want very much to punch people who disagree with me in the head.

Anyway, the latest development on this issue is that a journalism student at the University of Arizona is suing his university because the university is putting in place a pilot program in one of its classes where sighted students get to use the Amazon kindle. Darrell Shandrow, our blind plaintiff, naturally, does not.

I feel like I’m repeating myself, but it’s necessary. Equal access to books should be a right, not a privilege. It’s wonderful that there are resources out there for students like Shandrow, but you know what? They’re not enough. If everyone else in the class is using Kindles to read their course work and a blind student is not, I consider that to be a case of separate and unequal treatment. Presumably the kindles will be used for a specific purpose, and it will, at the very least, take longer for a non-kindle-using student to keep up with his classmates during class if they use another format.

There was and still is an ongoing conversation between Shandrow and several of us blind folks on twitter about this issue. Some people consider him to be an accessibility evangelist, whatever the hell that even means, and think he has been going about his crusade in a beligerent and undiplomatic way. Naturally, I am not one of these people. Being a university student myself, I can see the benefits of using the Kindle. I have also stated, more than once, that my money is as good as a sighted person’s. If this lawsuit is the only way in which Amazon will recognize this fact, then I want someone to sue, too!

Talking of ebook accessibility seems to step on a lot of toes in the blindness community. Even writing this, I find myself wanting to backpedal a bit to make sure that the people who volunteer their time for Bookshare or the folks at Recordings for the Blind and Dyslexic know I’m not impuning what they do. I think any service that provides books in ways that blind people can read them is to be commended. Further, if we ever do get an Amazon Kindle that is completely accessible, the need for such services will hardly diminish. But those services are hardly enough. The day I can read any book I want, the same as my sighted peers, the instant I want to read it, will be the day that I consider myself as having equal access to printed materials as sighted people. Telling blind people we should be content with what we have is, I feel, a lot like telling black folks they should have been happy with separate schools, rest rooms, etc., or telling GLBT folks that they shouldn’t be so goddamn uppity and be happy with the domestic partnerships they can get instead of campaigning for marriage equality. Maybe that’s a bit of a harsh statement, but I won’t apologize for it. Too often, I feel that in general, disabled people are under more pressure than other minorities to be nice and not rock the boat lest we appear ungrateful for what we do have.

Well, being nice isn’t going to get us the services we need. I hope Darrell Shandrow’s lawsuit is successful, and if it takes a bunch of other blind people suing a bunch of other companies in order for these needed changes, then I hope they come through and do so in an unapologetic fashion. Because we shouldn’t apologize for wanting what we by rights ought to have.

Dear Douchebag at the convenience store yesterday:

News flash. I guarantee you that I know for a fact that I am fat. Knowing this, I made a conscious decision to not subsist on salad and water and went to the convenience store to buy funions and those Snickers ice cream bars. I knew when I bought them that these things have no nutritional value whatsoever. That’s why I bought them. I am also a grown adult, and if I want to clog my arteries, who is going to stop me?

I did not appreciate you telling me your inspiring story of losing 100 pounds on Weight Watchers. Far from inspiring me–as you hoped given that you actually did use the word inspire when you told me this story–it made me want to punch you in the face. It also inspired me never to consider Weight Watchers as as a viable diet plan, lest I run into your douchey self there. Oddly enough, this is exactly how I feel about evangelical Christianity. I don’t like being prosseletized about my god, and I don’t like being prosseletized about my weight. Because you know what? It is absolutely none of your fucking business. I don’t care that you’re right. You’re not one of the people in my life who is allowed to make that kind of criticism of a complete stranger.

Also, at least I *walked* to the convenience store in order to get my arteries clogged. Your lazy ass drove.

No love,
Shannon

I’ve been noticing that many bloggers have been awarded the Zombie Chicken Award lately. Lest you wonder what the heck I’m clucking about, let me explain.

The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all…

You know what has me so fried? Not one of the brood of hens whose squawkings I read regularly thought to nominate me. I wonder what they were thinking? Did they think that, as soon as the Zombie Apocalypse hit, I would fly the coop, hoping for free range? Well, I cry foul! As soon as those zombies came swooping in, egged on by my hen-pecked friends and associates, I would fight those zombies until all of them were sufficiently yolked. After all, zombies weren’t meant to rule the roost!

But thanks to no one giving me this award themselves, I guess none of the rest of you will ever know that, will you? Why, even now, you probably think I’m just going to grab your leg and pullet. Well, I intend to be proactive about this. As soon as I hear the faintest hint of zombified creatures running around with their heads cut off, I’ll lay in wait. Because goddammit, I am a bad-ass, kick-ass zombie-fightin’ chick!

Dear Members of the Reading Public:

Let me draw to your attention something that really frosts my cookies, crisps my bacon, and burns my toast, to use some complicated and completely random metaphors.

URBAN FANTASY =/= PARANORMAL ROMANCE!

Whew. There,. I feel a little better now.

This is one reader’s opinion, but since I actually do read in both genres, I feel qualified to write on this topic, because I know what I’m talking about.

So, here’s how I define the two genres.

Paranormal Romance: A subset of books in the romance genre that takes place in alternate worlds. Each book is a complete story, featuring two or more protagonists who find their Happily Ever After (or HEA, as they say in the genre) together. Usually, these books, if they’re presented in series format, don’t follow the same protagonists from book to book. Usually, paranormal romance series feature friends of previous protagonists.

Authors I think of who write paranormal romance include but are not limited to: Meljean Brook, Nalini Singh and Kresley Cole.

Urban Fantasy: Urban fantasy is usually set in an alternate world similar to our own except that magical creatures are to varying degrees involved in the world. The protagonists usually have to deal with these magical forces.

Nowhere in that previous definition does romance figure. Urban fantasy does not always involve kick-ass chicks. (The Nightlife series by Rob Thurman comes to mind as an exception. So do the Dresden Files by Jim Butcher..) Not all urban fantasy even has a romantic element. (Happy Hour of the Damned by Mark Henry doesn’t.)

I do think there can be some overlap between the genres of urban fantasy and paranormal romance. I agree with the publisher’s distinction of Angels’ Blood by Nalini Singh as a book that works well in either genre. But those books are not as prevalent as people expect.

“But, Shannon,” I hear you say. “All the urban fantasy I ever see involves characters in impossibly convoluted love triangles! That’s romance, isn’t it? ISN’T IT? I know you and your evil romance conspiracy ways! You just want me to read an urban fantasy book, discover the girl cooties, and then you’ll insist I read a bodice ripper!”

OK, calm down. Yes. I’ll admit there is a lot of urban fantasy with convoluted romantic subplots. But I would also like to point out that the dreaded love triangle (which I hate. A lot, for what it’s worth) is present in other genres besides urban fantasy. Just ask Janet Evanovich fans and former fans about their opinions of Morelli vs. Ranger. I don’t have any idea why love triangles are so popular in urban fantasy, except that it’s an easy way to string readers along through a convoluted series.

And, as I mentioned earlier when talking about paranormal romance, there’s an expectation of a HEA. In urban fantasy, that’s not always the case. Urban fantasy authors can kill the love interest, kill the heroine, or turn everybody into teletubbies as long as it works within the conventions of the world they’ve created.

For the record, as I said, I don’t tend to like urban fantasy where a long, drawn-out love triangle is what keeps the books moving. In fact, it was one of my initial prejudices about the genre–that it was full of these soap opera romantic conflicts. But it is possible to find books that feature romantic subplots to a greater or lesser degree depending on what you like. Just like with any other genre fiction.

In conclusion, paranormal romance features separate characters from book to book and a pronounced happily ever after. Urban fantasy doesn’t. Just because urban fantasy sometimes has a romantic subplot is no reason to dismiss the whole genre as trite.

Thanks for your attention in this matter.

Love,

Shannon

For one of my classes–the requisite health class I need to complete in order to finish my associate’s degree at the community college I attend–we’ve started watching Super Size Me, the 2004 documentary in which the filmmaker, Morgan Spurlock, ate at McDonald’s for 30 days. I have not been enjoying this piece of cinematography, to put it mildly, not enjoying it so much so that I almost walked out of class today, something that, nerd that I am, I just don’t do.

I’m a big girl. I’ve always been a big girl. My family is composed of big people, and we make up part of Spurlock’s 60 percent of Americans who are either overweight or obese. And before we get any further, I would like to admit that, yes, my diet and exercise need improvement. I realize that spending the majority of my time sitting in front of a computer does not a healthy person make, and I really am trying to adopt better habits. But having said that, having a self-righteous, pompous asshole like Spurlock sit in judgment of me? Not going to help. In fact, my first impulse, after I got out of class, would have been to go out and eat a whole box of super sized fries just out of spite. If only I hadn’t had toi go directly to another class, and if only there had been an actual McDonald’s on my way to anywhere I had to go today, I would have done so.

The part of the movie that really killed me was when Spurlock interviewed one guy who basically said that now it’s become socially acceptable to hector smokers for their bad habits, so when, oh when, will pop culture embrace criticizing fat people for their habits? He seemed genuinely sad that he couldn’t just walk up to, say, me, and be all, “I notice that’s not a diet soda you’re drinking. Have you checked your cholesterol lately?” Because, yeah. Shame and humiliation are really going to solve that problem.

And that’s not even getting to the fact that I don’t know anyone who actually eats every single meal at McDonald’s every day. Maybe those people are out there. Maybe they are the same people who buy snuggies. I don’t know. I do know that the whole premise of the experiment is highly flawed and thus, I can’t take it seriously. It seems like the filmmakers keep trotting out these absolutely mind-bogglingly horrible statistics for the shock value. “Oh, noes, you fat cows. By following this diet, you will be consuming over 30 pounds of sugar and 12 pounds of icky, gross fat. Now don’t you want a salad?”

It doesn’t help that the overweight people he has talked to aren’t the kind of people I want on my side. We stopped the video after a teenager whined that she couldn’t follow Jared Fogle’s infamous Subway diet because she couldn’t afford to eat at Subway every day. Well, sweetheart, you can probably just make yourself your own turkey sub sandwich at home and pay much less to do it, so that isn’t an excuse.

I’m not sure, because I’m not a health expert, what needs to be done to get Americans to eat smarter. I am, however, fairly sure that, like smoking cigarettes and other perfectly legal but horrible things a person can do for their health, that grown-up fucking adults can decide for themselves what kind of stuff they want to put in their own bodies. People should eat right because it’s a healthy thing to do, because not eating right can lead to serious health complications, not because they got shocked and shamed into doing so by a fucking douchebag with a camera crew.

We have more of this video to watch on Thursday. I imagine Thursday night I’ll manage to squeeze in some more vitriol on this subject.

Someone showed me a picture and I just laughed
Dignity never been photographed
I went into the red, I went into the black
Into the valley of dry bone dreams

So many roads, so much at stake
So many dead ends, I’m at the edge of the lake
Sometimes I wonder what it’s gonna take
To find dignity.

--"Dignity" as sung by Solas

I’ve been thinking a lot about dignity lately, especially as it relates to my disability. More specifically, I find myself depressed at how quickly people can just casually shred a person’s dignity without realizing they’re doing it.

I can’t tell you how many times people have come up to me, in the course of my life, and told me that I was brave for simply doing what they do on a normal basis, whether it’s taking a bus to my college, walking to class by myself, or even standing in line at a coffee shop. I know that my reaction to such people ought to be a charitable one. I should consider that I have been blind all my life, and maybe if I woke up with the loss of one of my other senses leaving the house, dressing myself in the morning, or otherwise interacting with the world would be difficult. I tell myself that, and yet I still resent it when people give me the, “You’re so brave!” speech, because statements like that reduce my actual accomplishments. I am never told I am brave for getting an A on a test or blogging regularly or doing volunteer work, which I think are by far better accomplishments than merely showing up wherever I happen to be going every day. I know that statements like, “You’re so brave!” or, even better, “You’re such an inspiration!” say more about the people making them than they do about me, but it still reduces me from a person to the object of a life lesson, and I’m not that, either.

Then there are the people that offer me help. Sometimes, I’ll grant you, I need help. I’m not comfortable setting out on my own down the isles of Wal-Mart with a specific shopping list in mind, for example. But I’m fairly certain that, after two years of walking through the same doors to the building the bus drops me off in front of at the school, I will not suddenly forget how to do that. And invariably, someone always ostentatiously offers to help, usually by trying to grab my arm and tug me in the right direction or by loudly exclaiming, “I’ve got the door!” as if by opening the door, they have accomplished something wonderful and deserve my grattitude, because certainly opening the door is something I, with two working arms, couldn’t possibly do all by myself. Often, I just want to snap at these people and actually say, “Y’know, I was *fine*. I don’t need the help. STFU and go away.” But I’m a polite Midwestern girl, and after having been told one too many times about how my behavior will paint every blind person with the same brush for those good samaritans I meet in public, I generally just grit my teeth and mutter a “Thank you” and try to move on, ignoring as best I can that I have managed to make someone’s day that little bit brighter at the expense of my own self-worth. After all, the person who ostentatiously held the door open for me can now go home and tell her family, “I had to help a poor blind girl today.”

This is not to mention all of the ways in which, just working within the system, my dignity is stripped away. For example, in order to avail myself of the paratransit service I have to use because I live in a town that does not have excellent bus service, I am encouraged to sell myself short and paint my disability in the worst light possible. I don’t own a scanner, and so someone has to read my mail to me, thus robbing me of my right to privacy. I know a girl who lives alone and needed a bit of help with cleaning and running errands and the like. She practically had to admit to not being able to dress herself just so she could get someone to come perform those services for her. I have come to the conclusion that I am not desperate enough for that kind of service to ask for it, but if I didn’t have the support system that I do, that would be my situation, too, and there’s nothing worse for a person raised with good old, can-do Midwestern values, than feeling like she has to grovel in order to ensure that she has a decent quality of life.

I don’t write all of this to make anyone feel sorry for me or put anyone on the defensive. I don’t require pity–at least, not about this. I just think able-bodied people need to think about this sort of thing more often than they do. For the record, the proper response, at least for me, to a disabled person wandering around that you think might need help is to simply ask if help is required. If the answer is no, move on. That leaves the disabled person with dignity intact and you can still feel good that you made the offer.

Anyone who’s been paying attention to blogs lately has been aware of the huge dust-up about the new Kindle feature from The Author’s Guild. Hundreds of comments have been lobbed at the topic, among them what this decision means for blind people. So here is my take, as an actual, you know, blind person.

I think that all ebooks need to be available equally to everyone. The Kindle isn’t usable to me, but someday, I think it will be, and when that day comes, I want to be able to blow money just like every other person.

The arguments that have come out of the whole TTS issue from those who oppose it that I find most baffling have been the ones that would like to treat the needs of blind consumers as somehow a separate issue when it shouldn’t be. In the latest post on this issue from Dear Author, a number of arguments have been floated in the comments regarding the blind. First and most egregious is someone quoting a blog by an author who asserts that blind people don’t read her books, so she doesn’t care about our needs. I would like to extend a hearty fuck you to any of the authors out there who seriously think this, because it for damn sure means *this* blind person won’t be reading any of their books.

Secondly, I’ve seen the argument, not outright stated but very much implied, that there are already organizations out there that provide materials for the blind, so blind people and advocates for the blind should just shut up and be grateful for what we can have. Don’t get me wrong. I think any attempt to promote literacy on any level for anyone is a good thing, and my life would be extremely less enriched if it weren’t for several organizations for the blind. But charitable groups, Bookshare, and even the Library of Congress can only do so much. Why should I settle for the books those groups can provide when Amazon already has the platform to provide me whatever I want to read? To me, the attitude that I should sit back and not make noise and be grateful for what I have seems like one hell of a way to keep discrimination happening. Yes, I said the D word.

And I won’t even start in on the assinine argument about braille literacy I read in the comments of that post. Because if you would like me to rant about braille literacy, that would require a whole other thread and it hasn’t got a damn thing to do with the issue at hand.

Jane’s proposed solution, linked to in the Dear Author post I mentioned, would work for me. She proposed that certain Kindles could be registered to blind consumers and we’d have access to everything with TTS. If that is possible, I think that’s the best solution. It would leave the range of reading options open for the blind as wide as they needed to be while still letting blind consumers keep our dignity. It would also allow organizations like Bookshare to partner with Amazon, which could only increase the content available via those services so people who didn’t want to buy a kindle could still have the broad range of reading material open that the sighted world has at its fingertips.

As it stands now, what blind consumers have in the way of ebooks is quite limited. The only platform a blind person has to access ebooks that’s even remotely accessible is ereader, and accessible is, in this case, very much in the eye of the beholder. I can use it, but I don’t enjoy the listening experience, as I’m constantly fiddling around with my cursors. So I’m left with stripping DRM from books, which is illegal, or pirating books, in order to have the portability and ease of reading that I need. And let me tell you, stripping DRM from ebooks is not, as it shouldn’t be, an easy thing to do.

There are so many ways in which the disabled are treated like second-class citizens who don’t have any right to dignity and self-worth. Reading ebooks shouldn’t be one of them, and it’s yunacceptable to me to have an organization like the Author’s Guild try to infringe on that right.

The new text-to-speech feature on the Kindle is causing some concern for members of the Authors’ Guild. My reaction was and still is a resounding “WTF?” And, I find myself wondering what this could potentially mean for me as a blind consumer of ebooks.

I’ve long felt that New York publishing has done its damnedest to make sure that people like me never actually have a chance to be honest consumers. I guess my money as a blind consumer just isn’t good enough for New York. If it were, then books wouldn’t have the kind of DRM that actively prevents someone like me from reading whatever they want.

As it stands now, if I want to read a book around the time it is actually released, I have to either be in good enough with the author that they trust me with an ARC, or I have to hope that the book I want makes the New York Times bestseller list so that Bookshare will make it available quickly. (I’m not knocking Bookshare as a service, either! They do their best, and they provide a much-needed service for those of us with vision impairments. But they still don’t produce *every* book available. And that’s what I want as a blind consumer. I don’t want half-assed half-measures. I want to read anything available on ebook at anytime, anywhere. If a sighted reader has that ability, why the hell shouldn’t I? I’m even willing to pay exorbitant ebook prices to do it, for the sake of convenience.

The other thing about the Kindle issue is that some of the comments I’ve read seem to indicate that TTS software is this newfangled invention that has, up until the Kindle, never been a concern. Actually, this isn’t true. I have downloaded Text Aloud, which does essentially the same thing the Kindle TTS reader will do. It’s a shareware program that costs more depending on the kinds of voices you want to use, and it seems to me that the Kindle is just doing something similar. Incidentally, if you want to mess around with what TTS actually sounds like, you can go here and check them out.

Do I think there is room for improvement in text to speech software? Of course I do. Do I think the software will ever get to be so good that reading a book using it will be even remotely comparable to reading an audio book? No, I emphatically don’t. Machines just don’t have the human ability to express nuance and tone for one thing, and for another, no machine is going to be able to do such a simple thing as pronounce every word correctly.

I want the best for authors. I want to support them as much as I possibly can, and I want to make sure they can milk all the royalties they are capable of getting out of the publishing industry. But I think a solution needs to be found that will work for everyone, and especially the consumers. I want *more* access to the books I want to read, not less. Perhaps it’s latent paranoia, but what I don’t want to see happen as a result of this brouhaha is more restrictions placed on ebook formats that will make it even more impossible for me as a consumer to have access to them.

Dear Well-Respected Ebook Publisher,

Even though Sybil makes fun of me for it, I still enjoy your books. I particularly enjoy getting the chance to pick from your new offerings, because I don’t always want to read the erotic offerings that your parent company produces.

That being said, I really wish there had been some note attached to the book from your house that I just finished, something along the lines of, “Hey dumbass reviewer! You’re not reading a romance here. Please adjust your expectations. KTHX. Sincerely, the management.” Something like that would have saved me from floundering along for the first third of the book and going “Huh? Wha…?”

Thanks very much.

Sincerely,

Shannon

P.S. I love how you go out of your way to tell us not once, but three times on your submissions guidelines that F/F isn’t allowed. It makes me want to write a hot F/F romance just so I can… uh… not submit to you guys.

OK, moving on, since that last bit of snark failed:

Dear apparently popular and presumably male M/M author,

I tried to read one of your books because for some reason I thought that, it being longer than most erotic romances, there would be a plot. Hmmm. Not so much.

I will keep in mind that apparently the need to say fuck every five sentences isn’t just a trait of the less mature among my male peers. It apparently imbues your story with a sense of real masculinity. Or, um, something.

I’m not a prude, but man, that coupled with the fact that the first sex scene happens within, like, the first ten pages and this is not a short book, was seriously too much. I’m glad I have a stronger stomach than this, because that story? Probably would have ensured that I’d never pick up another M/M novel if I hadn’t decided that I’m determined to find one I’ll like.

Thanks so much for your lack of help in this mission.

Sincerely,

Shannon

In what universe is the following political argument even considered valid?

“Well, if we elect Hillary Clinton, and she gets on the rag, then what will happen?”

This got said in my Women’s Studies class last night. I think the phrase, “You’ve got to be shitting me” passed my lips, especially when my professor actually took the argument seriously and said, “Well, she’s menopausal, so it’s not like that’s ever going to happen.”

That’s not the fucking point. We would never ever *ever* say that about a male candidate. I mean, srsly! Did we invade Iraq because Dubya got morning wood one day and Laura didn’t do anything about it? Is that the real reason for most of the wars the U.S. has gotten involved in? Because that seems equally as likely as Hillary, if elected, getting on the rag and doing something to fuck up the nation because of that fact.

Before I get to the rant, let me whine for a minute.

I am having such a hard time finding something to read this weekend. I mean, it’s not like I don’t have books out the yin-yang, and I also know that, seriously, mine is not a major issue. But I can’t seem to settle on one book as something I! must! read! now.

Therefore, I provide you links.

I just started watching the Fangs, Fur and Fey community on LJ, and I noticed when I was going through the archives that I could see that someone posted a spot-on post about disability and stereotyping. The original poster quotes some guy named Colin Barnes, whose babies I would humbly offer to have for him should he ever chance to read this blog. He says the following, which I’m quoting from the FF&F post because it is totally spot on and he gets it exactly.

1. Have your character interact with people as equals. Don’t just have them be charity cases. Show them give as well.

2. Make your character multidimensional. Make them have complex personalities with a full range of emotions.

3. Don’t make the disability a sign that the character is evil.

4. Don’t create a peeping tom feeling to your story. The protagonist’s disability shouldn’t have a voyeur aspect to it. They should be part of a cast of characters, doing an array of things.

5. Don’t make the character’s disability central to the humor of your piece.

6. Don’t use their disability as a way to make them a victim.

7. Don’t make them superhuman in an attempt to compensate for their disability. Make them human. Not sub-human. Not superhuman. Avoid “extraordinary abilities or attributes. To do so is to suggest that a disabled individual must over compensate and become superhuman to be accepted by society.”

8. Avoid stories where the protagonist needs only be tough and have will power to succeed and survive life with disability

9. Don’t make the person with disabilities sexually deviant, or asexual.

10. Don’t expect to create an person with disabilities that represents all disabilities. (Barnes 6-7)

Word! Just word! I’ve mentioned, at least on my LJ, that it’s hard for me to read books featuring disabled characters, because invariably one of these rules gets broken. And it’s been my experience that in romance stories where the disabled character is one of the protagonist, the magical power of healing vajayjay (or cock, depending on who the disabled one is) clears that problem up. Maybe it’s just that I’m a bitter and cynical blind person, but having really good sex has not restored my vision. I’m pretty sure that in most cases it wonh’t. And I think you could achieve a perfectly plausible HEA in a romance and still keep your disabled characters realistic enough that they’re not eligible for the miracle cure.

Oh, and this came up yesterday in conversation, so I thought that the sexually deviant comment warranted more discussion. Someone actually went into paroxysms of joy at the prospect of making love to me when he (naturally it was a he) found out I was blind. Naturally, what I should have done was try to figure out a way to let him, because it’s been a long time since there has been hot Shannon-on-anyone action, but in some areas of life I am too honest for my own good. Yeah, kids. Blind people aren’t any better lovers than anyone else. I’d venture to say that given the blind people I, personally, know, you’re more likely to find blind people who are slightly sexually repressed. And, um, isn’t the whole point of really good sex touching and being touched? I wasn’t under the impression that most people laid in bed and stared at each other as a valid form of foreplay. Maybe it is in some places, but even if I could see, I think I’d be wanting something more than that.

So I could make a number of shortish posts or I could just compile a few of my scattered thoughts into a long, rambly blogt. Needless to say, I have chosen the latter.

Last night, I was browsing Ellora’s Cave as I am so often wont to do, and found myself thinking about an old anthology I read and reviewed back in October. Most particularly, I was thinking about the short story that left the longest impression on me, an offering by Mary Wine. If you click on the link to my review, you’ll see that I was less than overwhelmed with the story. The characters were both stupid, and neither of them reacted the way those of us who live on planet Earth would react to typical situations. But the author did do sexual tension liek whoa, and even though the characters were both fresh out of central casting, I was still curious about that. Because sometimes short stories are just not an author’s forte, you know?

Anyway, it turns out that Ms. Wine’s writing, it is like crack. I am usually not a fan of over the top alpha males who are all, “You’re mine, and I will press my body hard against yours several times so that you will accept this fact and give in to the inevitable.” But I want to read her books. She’s got some excerpts on her website that are really doing it for me, and my inner feminist is seriously considering going off and joining a commune or something like that.

In other news, I found the idea of a marketing guru writing a book for young girls that might or might not have product placement in it rather fascinating. The product placement question is interesting but easily answered for me. Don’t want it in my fiction. every time Butch had a name-dropping orgasm in Lover Revealed , for example, I wanted to smack him. But this is what struck me from the commentary on DA:

Tina said she was inspired to write the series because she felt it was important for girls to have positive books to read and to encourage them to make good choices.

As opposed to, oh, the 85 million books out there that are not providing girls with positive books to read and encouraging them to make good choices? I don’t read much YA these days except for the occasional revisit of an old favorite, but honestly now, isn’t that the whole point of the genre? I mean, for crap’s sake, even books like the Sweet Valley High books or the Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging books try to sneak in a few good life lessons in amid the random schlock. I’m sure that, had I kept reading the Stephenie Meyer books before I decided that there was a special place in hell for Bella and Edward, I’d have found some life lessons and positive choices in there. And how, precisely, do you come up with a character about whom the most important thing is, “She likes Converse?” I mean, what do you do with a plot like that and still have it teach about making good choices?

Third, guess what showed up on my bloglines while I was doing my daily blog reading? TGBTU, that’s what! I was so very stoked, as it’s been way too long since I’ve been able to read TGBTU without going to the site. So thanks for fixing everything, Syb, whatever you did. Mwah!

Fourthly, I am listening to the Folk Alliance awards on XM. I wish I had someone who could descend to my levels of geekitude and let me provide them with a running commentary. Sadly, I am probably the only one amused by that idea.

Man, I am full of the off topic posts today.

I figured that it was time to start a semi-regular feature over here on teh blog called “Things Never to Say to a Blind Person” in the hopes that it will occasionally help someone out–or at least offend well-meaning people who will consider me ungrateful and mean-spirited.

The phrase that’s stuck in my craw today is, “Oh, you must be so brave.” I first heard this as a little girl. If I remember correctly, I was in a swimming pool, horsing around with my brother and sister and ended up getting roped into a conversation with some kid’s mother. “I think it’s so great that you’re out here,” she said. “You’re so brave, and you’re an inspiration to me.” I didn’t get it then. I still don’t get it. Why, exactly, must I be so `brave? Is it because I fight crime? Slay demons and vampires? Have super-powers?

No, I get the impression people think I’m brave because I get up in the morning and dress myself and then attempt to interact with the world around me. I know, it’s totally crazy, but I think some people think that just because my eyes don’t work, I obviously should be sitting at my parents’ house, letting them feed me, wearing Depends and reading the Bible. (A note of digression: If you should ever have a blind child, do not let the Christian Record Braille Foundation out of Lincoln, Nebraska get ahold of your child’s personal information. Your child will be receiving mailings from them until she turns 25, and nothing you can do short of threatening these people with nuclear bombs will get your child’s name off their mailing list. Well, of course, I never actually called their offices to inform them that I had joined a cult that worshipped Satan, although I was very tempted.)

I am not an especially brave person. In fact, I tend to think that if my average blog reader were to lose their sight tomorrow, after some whining and a huge pity party, most of you would figure out ways of adapting. Because you have to. If you don’t adapt to the shit life throws at you, you’re not really living.

My uncle is a great example of this. He’s diabetic, and has lost his vision rapidly. He’s got a lot of other health issues going on, too, but the last few times I’ve seen him, he’s been a shell of his former self. He just can’t do anything for himself, and it’s really hard to watch, particularly for me, because I could help. I have even offered my help, and nobody’s taken me up on it. I’m hoping my uncle will realize that eventually he’s got to learn to adapt to the vision loss. I know it’s hard, but trying to find ways to work around something like that is a way more productive use of one’s time than trying to draw disability… which, take it from me, is not the king’s ransom that certain conservative acquaintances seem to think that it is.

In summation, I’m not brave. I’m not an inspiration to anyone. Because were you in my shoes, I would like to think most of you would do exactly what I’m doing–trying to live a normal life.

I’d been trying to articulate my thoughts on why the whole mentality of “We should all be nice and never say anything mean to anyone” strikes me as silly, but, and here’s the ironic bit, I couldn’t figure out a way to say what I had in mind in an even-handed way, which is the tone I want to come across. Finally I decided fuck even-handedness. Here’s what I think.
What has bothered me ever since I started reading romance even semi-seriously a couple of years ago was that there was no way to voice a dissenting opinion about anything. There still isn’t, in a lot of places. A friend of mine recently told me that on a Yahoo group she is on, the mods made people stop discussing the Cassie Edwards plaigiarism issue because there might be CE fans on the list who might be offended. And after my mouth hung open in astounded “What the fuck?”, I eventually came to the conclusion that that loop would not be a good place for me. Because while I have nothing substantial to say about the CE plaigiarism issue beyond the fact that I still don’t have a clue how to spell plaigiarism, I think it is something that needs to be discussed, and I think that potential new readers ought to get some idea of what they might be picking up.

I’m also a cynic and I nitpick liek whoa. I did that even before I started reviewing on my blog, and I will probably always do it. Because 99 percent of what I read isn’t omgthebestthingeva! and I imagine that 99 percent of what most people read has flaws, too. That’s why I really love me some Dear Author and Smart Bitches. When I discovered SB and later DA, I was relieved. “Whoa,” I said to myself. “People who won’t blow sunshine up my ass and will tell me that something sucks.” Furthermore, it was sites like those that made me feel better about my reading tastes. These were people that were proud of what they read, and had no shame in pointing out that they read Dara Joy or LaVyrle Spencer or Judith McNaught. Sometimes controversy happened, but I was OK with it, because even when I didn’t have an opinion on a topic, I found the discussion fascinating.

All that is to say, I don’t think I’d have started seriously reading romance if it weren’t for the supposed mean girl bloggers. Remember that bit where I said I was cynical and nit-picky? Yeah. So are Candy and Sarah and Jane and Jayne, and so if they recommend a book, then I’m probably at least going to like it if not outright enjoy it.

Not that I’m a mean girl fangirl. OK, I am, but I have disagreed with them. Karen Scott, for example, will never convince me that reading literotica is inherently bad or that there’s no place for, say, twincest in romance. I’ll admit that sometimes I find her a bit too quick to judge people without getting all her facts, and the anonymice that comment on her blog are sometimes too out and out mean, even for me. I also think Jane of Dear Author can be a bit too terse for my tastes, and I can understand why someone wouldn’t necessarily want to visit a site called Smart Bitches, Trashy Books for fun. But I do think those bloggers all have value, and I like what they have to say. Besides, I never would have encountered some of the really cool people I’ve met in romancelandia if it hadn’t been for the mean girls. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have read some of the authors I’m really digging lately, like Meljean Brook and December Quinn, if I hadn’t liked their postings on SB and DA.

And here’s the other thing about mean girls in any community. Every community has them. A friend was telling me about a message board his wife frequents, which is about collectable dolls. There are mean girls in the collectable doll community. When I was actively Pagan (not just the questioning agnostic I am today), I discovered mean girls in the Pagan community. And there are people that will get into frothing fits of self-righteous anger every time someone mentions Fandom Wank. So the romance community isn’t the only one with mean girls, because obviously there are mean girls pretty much everywhere online. I mean, hell, there are mean girls in knitting communities, which, to me seems like the kind of activity engaged in by sweet little old ladies who you wouldn’t think would have a mean thought in their head.

Lastly, I want to talk for a moment about sisterhood. I have a sister, and so everytime anyone mentions the sisterhood with regard to romance, I start to giggle. Because let me tell you about my relationship with my sister.

I love my sister. I would give her the shirt off my back if she asked it of me. She has held me when I’ve cried, we’ve shared some laughs and there’s pretty much nothing we wouldn’t tell each other. That being said, we are the first to pick at each other. If you look on my long disused Myspace page, you will see comments from my sister. I believe one of them involves her calling me a whore. They probably all do. Because twisted as it is, that’s an expression of love. And you bet if my sister ever got caught blatantly plaigiarizing from a huge collection of sources, I would make fun of her for it endlessly, and I wouldn’t have that much sympathy for her. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still love her to distraction, but she’d certainly understand that I disapproved. And I think that the romance community needs more of people being honest and actually saying what we think than it does all the sticking together, holding hands and singing Kum Baya.

Dear Spider Robinson,

Why is it that I can get so engrossed in one of your books that I get a little sad inside when the bus comes to a stop and I have to stop reading, yet when I think about what you have actually written, I want to smack you?

My main gripe, aside from the fact that you would love to be in a manwich between Robert Heinlein and John D. MacDonald is that there are very few writers who can pull off subtle references to their previous works without sounding like a wanker. You? Completely fail.

Also, you would be a lot funnier if you didn’t try so hard. As it is, most of the time when your characters start trying to be funny, I want to reach through the book and strangle you, just to make my head stop hurting.

I really wish I could hate you, though, dammit. Because then I’d feel less guilty about mocking you.

Still faithfully reading,
Shannon

Sometimes finding a decent book is difficult, but certain things don’t help the process. When I read, I usually perform what I call the “chapter 1 test”. Which means, if I get through chapter 1, I pretty much do finish the book.

But three books today failed that test. The first wouldn’t have if I’d known there was a prequel to it. The second failed because it was a historical romance that I don’t believe was actually researched at all. (It was set in Scotland, it was 1200, there were highland games being held in a festival near the English border, and there was a clan Council of Elders, which sounded more like standard fantasy kitch than anything even vaguely historically accurate.)

The third featured some of the most overwrought dialogue I’ve ever read. I’m paraphrasing, but it seemed to go like this:

“Who is it?” Tyler demanded hoarsely.

“Royal Benedict,” Sydney asserted defiantly.

“My God! He’s your cousin! That’s incest!” Tyler exclaimed disgustedly.

“Well, if it’s incest, I’ve been committing it since I was fifteen. In fact, I made love with him on the day I married you!”

I’m not paraphrasing much. The dialogue was pretty much like that. And I thought the book was too long to sit through MSTing as I went along.

Dear published romance author who shall remain nameless:

You’re doing a bad job when the incest subtext is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and incest is not the main focus of your novel. Yes, we’re aware that you and your Mary Sue’s eleventy-two billion brothers love her, but must you have the brothers remark with creepy intensity on their sister’s radiant beauty? Whilst standing in her bedroom watching her sleep?

Sincerely,
A former fan of your work who had to put your book down after she couldn’t make it through chapter 1 because of the creepy incest.

P.S. The book was Jude Deveraux’s Eternity just in case you were looking for something new to read and are in any way influenced by my non-recommendations.

In response to an email none of you sent me:
Wandering is where you drift around aimlessly and have no direction. Example: “As soon as the girl thrust her b00bies of d00m in front of his face, he could feel his mind wandering away from the subject at hand.”

Wondering is where you’re curious about something. Example: “As she thrust her b00bies of d00m in front of his face, his mind began wandering down forbidden territory. He found himself wondering, for example, whether the massive mammary glands were, in fact, real.”

this lesson in proper usage was, again, brought to you by my email.

*Sigh*

I swear this book is the longest, most self-indulgent bit of tripe that ever won a Nebula Award.
I’m a bit past page 140, and the urge to strangle the author for continually avoiding any but passing mentions of the plot in favor of her Mary Sue main character navel-gazing is growing.

Dear Helpless Disabled Person:

I’m sorry that you can’t get the book we’re supposed to be reading as a group. However, I do not have any idea what you expect us to do about it. It’s available in some form that will not cost you money. It’s totally not our fault you can’t use the resources you need to gain it. Maybe if you returned some books to the library, you wouldn’t have this problem.

Not a whole lot of love,
Me

Dear Local Library for the Blind:

I check out special equipment so that I can listen to cassette books produced by the National Library Service for the Blind. When I request this equipment, the least you can do is send me a machine that works. As it is, now I have two shoddy tape recorders I’ll be sending back to you for repairs. Which will severely limit my ability to read, and that will severely piss me off. The least you could have done was quality control checked your equipment before you sent it out to me so we wouldn’t have this problem.

Much hate,
Someone who should not have to resort to buying overpriced access technology just so she can read a goddamned book.

Joining to crosspost this there.

Dear Professional Author,
Y’know, the last hundred pages or so of the book are probably not the best
place to introduce new characters. I really don’t understand what the
purpose of this last story arc is aside from giving your character
omgmoreangst! Which he doesn’t need, clearly.

Also, I clearly do not have the patience for twue wuv because, were I the
love interest of the character you’re needlessly torturing, I would have hit
him over the head with a blunt object and run away to forge a bond of
soul-matey goodness with someone a little less exasperating.

Sincerely,
A fan who really does enjoy this author’s work… It’s just that I can’t
quite read it without rolling my eyes.

Dear Mr. Pratchet,
Please smack your fans for me. They should have told me to start reading Discworld books with anything featuring Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg. I’m sorry, but I did not enjoy The Color of Magic or The Light Fantastic though they did have their amusing moments. But the short story you submitted to the Legends anthology “The Sea and Little Fishes” was quite possibly one of the funniest things I’ve read recently.

Sincerely,
Someone who’d like to work up to being a fan.

Dear Cat,

It’s your fault I find myself suddenly wanting to read fanfic again. You and that damned J. K. rowling. And then you went and gave me fic recs. If I lag behind in my nanoing, I’ll know exactly who to blame. Anyway, I now have your fanfiction.net profile, so I’ll have to start leaving you reviews… Oh, wait, I was aiming for guilt trip with this letter, not to-do list.

Sincerely,
Bardsong,
Who would just like to add that she thinks Cat McDougall rocks immensely.

Dear Mr. Goodkind,

I do not think that I will be reading your Sword of Truth books, because the name Darken Rahl is complete and utter cheese. Better luck next time with the villainous names, mkay.

Love,
Me

Dear Shannon,
go to bed and quit pestering the nice people on LJ. They’ll all thank you for doing so in the morning.

Sincerely,
Your muse