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So Done With Last Night

28/3/2019

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Good morning, Readers!
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Because nothing says I'm hip with the kids than an ancient meme. Image from imgur (linked).
Last night was frustrating as hell.  For some reason, the internet connection was acting up, so may stream came in drips and drabs. AND it was the climax of the story, too... which pissed me off no end.  I saw everything fine.  My viewers did not.  ARGH!  Lord almighty, I was about ready to punch things.

It's never done that before, and this experience was not fun.  I've rarely been so frustrated, even in my worst gaming moments when I'm swearing my head off.

My apologies to everyone watching last night, and thanks for trying to stick with it.  I'll be streaming again on the weekend (now that I've done a hard reboot of the router and pending a speed check).  Follow my gaming page or my Twitter for the announcement.

Hopefully this time, it'll work out. *weeps into my pillow*

Writing wasn't so hot yesterday.  I barely scraped past my goal of a thousand words.  I managed, but it took forever.  Today is likely to be the same, I think.  I'm quite tired today, and will probably not manage to type much out. I may have to do a lot of napping.  Stupid tiredness.

There's really nothing else to report, and I have to go now and stitch together the pieces of last night's stream into a coherent video...  Ugh.

Ciao!
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Yesterday Was Okay

27/3/2019

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Good morning, Readers!
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Nabbed this from wallpaperbetter.com.
I punched this morning in the face.  By which I mean, I made it out of bed this morning.  Hey, we must celebrate the small victories.

Last night was my usual martial arts training.  I'm trying really hard to work on staying within striking zone and not always retreating.  Essentially, I'm trying to be more aggressive.  It's hard for me.  As much fun as I have punching focus mitts and kicking shields as hard and as fast as I can, it's a different matter entirely when it comes to other people.  I don't like bruising others... unless they deserve it.  I assume.  I've never really met anyone that deserved it (in the moment).

I didn't do too badly last night, and went to bed exhausted and happy.  Mostly exhausted.

I also, just barely, made my writing quota yesterday (okay, by barely, I mean I shot past it by quite a bit, but it took me quite a long time to do it).  It took a bit to scrape my head together enough to write, but I managed it.  Honestly, the pressure of having to tick it off my formal to-do list in my butterfly effect journal is the only thing that got me writing yesterday.  I'm quite glad for it, really.

This is week three... no, two... Hang on, let me check.  Week two.  Anyway, this is the second week of using the journal, and I'm kinda in love with it.  The layout makes sense, and it actually quite effective in keeping me motivated, working and accountable.  Unlike other planners I've used, it's quite dry, without any pictures or colours.  Happily though, there is nothing stopping you from doodling, writing outside the lines and boxes and colouring-in over what ever space you like.  I've coloured a few places in, and would probably have doodled all over the page if I ever had enough time to get bored.  I'm too busy currently.  Hopefully that will calm down.

AH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!  *wheeze*

Anyway, it's a great little journal, and I'm more impressed with this and how well it seems to work compared to all the other journals I've used to date.  Speaking of, I need to fill it in before I get to work today.  I am almost two-thirds of the was finished my manuscript.  Knock on wood I continue apace.

Right, I have to go.  Have a lovely day.

​Ciao!
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Thoughts on Captain Marvel

26/3/2019

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Good morning, Readers!
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Got this beauty from vitalthrills.com.
I saw Captain Marvel a little while ago.  I had some thoughts, of course, but didn't really have a break in my schedule to talk about them.  I now have that time.  I have no idea how long this blog post will be, as I haven't really thought it out properly.

What's new.

So, anyway, I went and I saw this with my kung fu sister, and it was a great time.  The movie was a lot of fun.  I cannot say enough about Samuel Jackson as a younger Nick Fury.  He's spot on, hilarious, and almost the best part of the film.

The best part was clearly the cat.

There were some things that grated on my nerves precisely as they were meant to ("It's called cockpit for a reason"), and there were some things that made me scratch my head a little.

Honestly, I think the film lacked the emotional punch that other Marvel films have managed.  Captain Marvel was great, but there were a few things I think could have been, well, punchier.  There wasn't a punch the air moment in Captain Marvel (think here Eowyn's "I am no man" line before she obliterates the Witch-King of Angmar—you should have heard the theatre when it happened. Holy cheers, Batman!), when there could have been.  There was a line that could have done it, but somehow failed to.

I think if the character of Captain Marvel lost her temper a little more in the beginning and during the delivery of that line (those who've watched know it), if there had been anger behind those words, I might have been able to relate a little more.  I mean, here is a woman who had all her remembered life been told to tone it down discovering that it was done precisely to reduce her power (every woman can relate here, I think).  That would piss me off.  That would make me angry.  I wanted to see that reflected in Carol Danvers, but didn't.  Instead of angry, it was delivered a little more flatly.  I get you don't want her to disintegrate her opponent, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't be furious about it all.  I want that fury.  I want to see that rage, even if it's controlled (controlled, not repressed.  There is a difference).  Because I feel it.  Often.

I never got that, and I'm a little disappointed.

That said, there was something about her character that I greatly loved, that the film pulled off brilliantly.  The constant falling, and then getting back up.  The images, the expression on Carol Danvers' face, it was all perfect.  In those moments, when she failed, and stood back up, fists clenched, I felt the connection to her that I had been lacking in other areas of the film.  Those were a series of quiet "fuck yes!" moments, and I adored them so much.  Failing is a given.  The thing I loved about Carol Danvers was that she got back up, and sometimes it felt like she got back up just to spite the dudebros who were laughing at her failure which... fuck yeah!  That's relatable!

It might just be that I'm a particularly spiteful person, but the older I've gotten the more I tend to try again (where before I would collapse in on myself and find somewhere to hide while I rock myself, sobbing.  I was a sensitive child).  More frequently, I try again because fuck you, that's why.

That's something about Carol Danvers that I really appreciated.

All in all, this was a great, fun movie, and I am honestly looking forward to seeing her return in the next Avengers.

Right, I have writing that needs doing.  What did you think of Captain Marvel?

​Ciao!
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I Got It Right

25/3/2019

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Good morning, Readers!
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Napped this one from fabuloussavers.com. It's just such a cool concept.
A friend of mine recently finished reading Skylark, and we had a really interesting discussion about the character and the story.  No, JP is a very perceptive human generally, but he picked up on so much in the book; stuff that I had quite forgotten about myself.

The chat was great.  He caught all the major things, which gave me quite the ego boost.  One of the things he picked up on that so few others have was so how unhealthy Skye's relationship is.  No spoilers, so you'll have to read the book to discover what, precisely I'm talking about here.  He also caught on that it is so very unhealthy, and it is unhealthy precisely because  Skye is, in JP's words, "such a mess of a man."  The relationship he forms is dangerously dependent, and that is never a good thing.

I adore that JP caught this, and thought it noteworthy.  It's true, though, if I'm honest, I didn't give it that much weight when I wrote the thing.

More on the mess of a man that Skye was, JP noted:
I was kinda glad that he clearly started breaking, that his issues throughout the story just didn't go away and he was the big magically ok hero near the end
Felt more, reasonable? Logical?
I liked that he was glad for it.  One of my biggest peeves with "hero" characters is how little the absolute hell they go through seems to have literally no effect on them, either physically or mentally (in too many stories, in my opinion).  That just doesn't make sense to me.  My body aches after a workout.  I don't get how characters can be thrown against multiple walls by space bugs and just walk away from that, not even wincing at a cracked rib or something.  I lose interest in a character if their witnessing of the deaths of their friends and loved ones doesn't mess with their heads.

Skye led a traumatic life.  He was in top physical shape, but that isn't a match for five bullets to the chest.  His mind was utterly broken, stitched together purely with grit and fakery.  He wasn't alright, because real people wouldn't be alright after surviving what he did.

I wanted Skye to seem real the way that people are real.  He is deeply flawed.  He wasn't a hero because he was perfect.  He was a hero despite his flaws.

Which serves Skye well.  He'd be one out of spite, I feel.

The ending of the book made sense to JP, but he also offered an alternative:  Skye, after the final battle, leaves earth behind and takes off with the daemon, their first ever human soldier.  I didn't even consider that as an alternative.  It's intriguing as an idea, and even opens the door for more Skye stories set in the post-battle world.  As I said, the idea did not even occur to me, and I really like it as an idea.

So, and this is the longest way to possibly come to this place, this blog post is a permission slip to anyone who wants to write fan fiction if Skylark in an alternate universe where Skye does manage to head off planet on whacky adventures with the daemon.  Go for it.  You have my permission.  As long as you aren't making money off my intellectual property, I'm totally cool with that (otherwise, I expect to be paid royalties).   Oh, and be sure to let me know, 'cause I'd love to shout it out.

Right, I have more world-building things to do.  I'm off.

Ciao!
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Huh. That Was New.

21/3/2019

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Good morning, Readers!
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Got this one from www.pixelstalk.net. In my mind's eye, it looks a little like the Vancouver in "Skylark."
Just a quickie reminder of some things:

Saturday night is meet-up night!  Those of you who have subscribed to my newsletter, check for location and time.  Hope to see you there!

Sunday, I shall be at Geek Market!  Look for me at the Renaissance Press table, or else find me wandering around maybe.


Alrighty, now to the topic at hand.
Warning: discussion of body image follows
Last week, I had a perfectly pleasant in-store clothes shopping moment.

Okay, look, that seems like a weird thing to note, except that it is entirely noteworthy for me.

I despise clothes shopping.  I always have.  It's never been fun for me.  In my younger years, I would cling to the need to feel superior about something, and so would simply pretend that I didn't like it because it was such a frivolous, "girly-girl" activity that I just didn't want to be associated with (we'll not unpack that here, but that alone is suuuuuuuuuuuuper problematic.  I was a bit of a snotty brat when I was younger).  What I was really railing against, however, was how no clothes seemed to be made for someone built like me.

I was too slender for plus sized clothing, and far too chubby for normal sized clothing.  I was stuck in some weird limbo in between where nothing fit.  Trying to find an outfit was, therefore, terrible for my self-image.  Most trips to a store usually resulted in a session of protracted ugly-crying (once I cried so hard after an attempted shop, I vomited.  Yeah.  Not good) and self-hate.  Listen, there's a reason why literally everything except my underwear and socks are hand-me downs.  I just don't go clothes shopping.  It makes me upset about my body even thinking of trying.

Well, just for kicks, and because I desperately needed a pair of running tights, and also because I was stupid early for dinner with friends and it was right across the road, I stepped into a Lululemon.  I immediately felt the old anxieties coming back.  Still, I forced myself to browse, looking at various options, if only to get some ideas about what's actually out there.

One thing I noted, which I appreciated so damned much was, unlike other clothing stores I had been in, there were no giant images of slender people plastered everywhere, ensuring that I am made entirely aware of how I do not fit that specific image.  That was refreshing.  It also meant that I wasn't constantly comparing my build to the impossible standards of Photoshopped models... only to the other customers in the store.

One thing I noticed and most certainly did not appreciate was that the largest size in most pants available was a size 12 (I only looked at the pants.  I didn't have the heart to even glance at the tops #BustyPeopleProblems).  Reallly, Lululemon?  Really?!  Even chubby people work out.  They deserve functioning clothing to do so as well.  Are only slender people allowed to have comfortable workout clothes?  Aren't you excited to support people in their exercise and fitness journeys?  What the fuck, Lululemon?

Anyway...

So, I was approached by a worker, who asked if I was looking for anything specific.  I told her: running pants that are tough.  I'm hard on my gear.  She showed me three styles and asked if I wanted to try them on.  What the hell, right?  I had time to kill.  So, I grabbed the largest size of those three styles they had (size 12... ugh).  The staff member asked if I'd like to try on a size down, as the fabric tends to relax with use.  This made me pause.

Honestly, it's the first time ever anyone has ever asked if I wanted to try a smaller size for anything.  Ever.  When you spend your life wishing you were smaller, and always being told, explicitly or implicitly that you, as you are, are too fat to be even considered a person worthy of beautiful things (even though I'm not fat.  Chubby, but not fat.  I know this in my logical brain), being smacked with a "maybe you should try a smaller size" is shocking and really fucking weird.  I assured her that no, I was the largest size in the shop, probably larger, and went to try the clothes on.

She asked twice more as I was comparing styles and fit (the size 12 seemed to fit okay).  So, in the style I liked best (IT HAS POCKETS, Y'ALL!), I finally agreed just to try.

And... well... it fit.  It was a little snugger than the size 12, but the size 10 fit and was comfortable.

Look, I almost had a breakdown there in the change room.  I'm not sure I can properly explain why, though I suspect that a few people reading this could relate.  I couldn't believe it, neither what I had heard nor what I saw with my own eyes.  It was a really odd, but pleasant (save for the initial anxiety) for me.

That's never been the case when I've been clothes shopping.  It was noteworthy.  And I didn't leave that shop wanting to cry myself to sleep and drown in chips and chocolate.  What with this experience and an exceptional dinner with really wonderful people, that was a really good evening.  Huh.  That was new.

Oh, and I bought those pants (it has pockets).

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That Horrid Question

19/3/2019

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I'm blogging over at Black Gate magazine today.  Here's a taster:
INT. SMALL CONVENTION ROOM - EARLY EVENING

A young AUTHOR, new to pitching, steps cautiously into the room clutching a binder full of papers to their chest. An EDITOR for a well-regarded publisher sits at a table with an empty chair opposite. The EDITOR smiles at the AUTHOR and beckons them to the chair. So nervous they're shaking, the AUTHOR sits down.

AUTHOR
Thanks so much for seeing me. I really appreciate it.

EDITOR
My pleasure.  So what have you got for me today.

AUTHOR
Well, it's a [insert genre of choice].  The audience is quite adult.  I think.  I'm not sure.  The young adult/adult distinction is not something I'm all that familiar with.

EDITOR
All right.  So, what's it about?

AUTHOR
Well, uh, it follows [character] and their team of [insert any kind of unit you like, knights? Rangers? Robot Space Marines?] and they --

EDITOR
(interrupting)
No, that's what happens.  That's the plot.  I want to know what the book is about.  What is the theme?

AUTHOR
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Read more

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Yoga's No Joke

19/3/2019

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Good morning, Readers!
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Image from pixabay, uploaded by KELLEPICS.
Report on sugar free, gluten free day one: It's day one. There won't be anything to report until at least until the seventh day.  As it is, though, my tummy is feeling a bit better, but that is likely due to other things. Also, I have a killer headache, also more likely due to the weather than any kind of withdrawal stuff.

This morning, I forced myself up to do some at-home yoga.  It's my first attempt at yoga, so I selected a yoga for absolute beginners video from a YouTube channel called Yoga with Adriene. It was a short, twenty minute thing for absolute beginners.  It wasn't difficult, except that the back half of my body is stupid tight (I've never been able to touch my toes), so the stretching was tough.  I felt fine after, though... until I had to get off the bus.  That's when I discovered that the back of my legs weren't having any of it.  I didn't even stretch that hard.  Just enough to feel like I was working.  Huh.  Go figure.

So that was this morning.

Writing news is less interesting.  Yesterday really didn't feel like I did much.  I mean, I got some world building stuff done, so it's not like I didn't do anything.  Today will be a writing day.  I'm aiming for one thousand, and will be thrilled if I get to two.  I have to keep reminding myself that this is a marathon, not a race.  Even just two words is a gain.  Speaking of which, I should get writing.

​Ciao!
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    S.M. Carrière, a Celtic Studies enthusiast, writes fiction.  And this blog.

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