Good morning, Readers!

First, a message for everyone: I know I've been not the most cheerful person of late.  The issue that I said was over (but not resolved.  That would require something I doubt the person involved possesses) actually isn't.  Apparently, being told point blank that I no longer wanted to hear from them was an open invitation to continually hear from them.  The contact itself is fairly innocuous, but against the background of what led to my losing my temper (yay gaslighting) and then telling them that I didn't want to hear from them, every little bit is a new straw on the already-broken back of the proverbial donkey.

So, sorry for my grumpiness.  I'm dealing with someone who will not respect my boundaries and it's taking its toll.  I intend to turn my last post of the week to something cheerful, however.  Or at least I'm going to attempt to.  We'll see how it goes.

I'm still feeling kind of grumpy and sad.

Right.  Here goes.

WARNING: This post is all about busty girl issues.  If frank and open discussion of breasts, bras and bodies makes you uncomfortable, stop reading right this minute.

This one is for the busty girls out there.

I went bra shopping for the first time in years and years and years yesterday.  No, seriously.  It's been years. It has been so long that I cannot remember the last time I went shopping for bras. It has been so damned long that all the bras I did own were full of holes, poking me in awkward places and making me bleed, and held onto me via safety pins.  Yup.  I was punk without the deliberate social commentary.

The truth is, I detest going shopping for bras (and clothes, but let's keep it on track today).  Part of the reason is that I have a whole bunch of unresolved issues around spending money on myself.  Many of these issues are self-esteem related (I don't deserve to have nice things), many of them are "I've been poor way too long" issues (I don't have the money to waste on luxuries (even though I sometimes do.  Not often, but sometimes)) and all of them make absolutely no sense.  I do deserve nice things and bras are not a luxury.  They're a damned necessity.  I know this, logically, but the issues run deep, man.  So, so deep.  It's always a struggle to do things like go clothes shopping, no matter how much I need new clothes.  It causes me serious anxiety.

Meh.  I'm working on it.

Funnily enough, I don't feel the same way when buying books.  I feel guilty for spending the money, but it's a cheeky kind of guilt.  I don't want to vomit before walking into a book store.

Anyway, I detest bra shopping for the stated anxiety and also because it has always been the most depressing experience in the world for me.  Growing up, people of my measurements did not exist in large numbers, and so would be ignored by most underwear manufacturers.  I would stare longingly at the fun bras; the red laces, the purple beads, the ribbons and fun patterns (Strawberries!  Strawberries everywhere!) and know that I would never ever be able to wear them.  They simply did not make fun underwear in my size.  I had three choices of colour: black, tan, and white.  Lace was a pipe dream.  And forget about funky patterns.

It's like manufacturers did not believe that busty girls wanted to have as much fun as their smaller counterparts.  In my fragile teenage psyche, it translated as busty girls not deserving to have as much fun as their smaller peers.  Teenagers, man.

And of course, my limited choice was hideously expensive.

So, for all of these reasons, I felt a little like hyperventilating before heading into the Victoria Secret store that has recently opened in the Rideau Centre.  I might not have gone in at all but for the Amazing Flatmate who came along for emotional support.

Ladies and, well, ladies, it was actually a really wonderful experience.  First of all: THEY HAD MY SIZE!  I cannot stress enough how much that means to me.  It was hugely important for me.  Granted, I was at the higher end of their stock.  Had I been even one size larger, I would not have been able to buy anything.  Again.  As usual.

Now, I have lost a fair few inches since starting weight training (my chest measurement is down a full six inches since the last time I went bra shopping - which I think was during a particularly bad time in my life in which I continually sought comfort in the bottom of a packet of chips (so I had gained a fair amount of weight)), and I'm crediting that for the fact that I could actually try things in store and get a good sense of what works for me and what doesn't.  Their selection in higher sizes is not great.  They don't really go past a DDD, alas.

Lucky for me, though, I'm in the range.  Sorry if you're not.  I've been there and I know how much that sucks.

GIANT INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU.

Still, I was thrilled to even be able to try stuff on in store.  This is a  new experience for me.

And then, there was a really lovely change room attendant by the name of Jody (possibly Jodi, I don't know how she spells her name).  British lady.  Very nice.  She was run ragged yesterday, as I recall, but she never lost her cheery tone and was so very helpful about proper fit and styles and so forth.  I felt bad pressing the buzzer for her assistance (seriously, she sounded so busy), but she was awesome about it all, and she really helped me settle on the most appropriate size for me.

This store has a level of customer service that is completely alien to me as a customer.  It was genuinely wonderful.

In the end, I bought three bras.  Two of them are sensible.  One of them is a funky colour and has rhinestones.  That's right, I HAVE A FUN BRA!  Ahem.  Sorry.

It was far too much money.  I'm still reeling from the cost.  It's true, Victoria Secret is not cheap.  However, I was in such dire need of new bras, so two of yesterday's haul were completely necessary.  The fun bra was not.  But I've never had a fun bra.  I really wanted a fun bra.

Can I just tell you how much difference a well-fitted bra makes?  In everything, though.  Not just comfort - which is amazing, by the way (I'm wearing one of my sensible bras now, and it is so. damned. comfortable) - but in the way my body holds itself, in the support I get, the adjustment in back pain that I'm finding odd, and even in how the rest of my clothes fit.  Seriously, my clothes seem to fit way better now.  Because of all of this, I can walk out with confidence.

Instead of trying to hide my body the way I have always done, I'm feeling a little bit proud of it.  Sure, it could use some work, but damn it if I don't look frakkin' great in this new bra.

It really does make all the difference.

Despite cringing still at spending money on myself - and so much money at that (it was an expensive trip) - I'm really glad I went out to get these new bras.  I cannot recommend that all the ladies get well-fitted bras enough... If you can afford it.  I know it's not always possible.  I've been there too.

GIANT INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU!

The service at Victoria Secret, as well as how well made they're bras seem to be (grated it's all still very new for me), has ensured that I will be returning to get more bras.  In a few months, though.  I can't afford to go again for a while yet.

So, if you can, get good bras from a place that'll treat your girls with the respect they deserve!  I have to go learn Welsh now, so I'll stop embarrassing you all with talk of breasts and bras.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

Please excuse me this morning.  I'm in a mood.  I'll get over it.  It's a 'small' issue of someone not respecting my boundaries and refusing to treat me like I'm a human being whose feelings matter.  It's an ongoing thing that means even the smallest things feel hugely irritating and rage-inducing.  It's kind of a straw that broke the donkey's back situation.

There's really not much I can do about it, however.  So I'll just seethe and punch really hard at training.  My apologies to my training partners.

In happier news, one of my favourite groups, Halestorm, has released a new album.  I've listened to most of the songs on the album, and they remind me a lot of late 80s and early 90s stuff, with some modern twists.  I really enjoyed the album and will probably be buying it shortly.  I've already found my favourite song of the album, and it's this one:

What caught me most was the chorus:

I am the fire
I am burning brighter
Roaring like a storm
And I am the one I've been waiting for
Screaming like a siren
Alive and burning brighter
I am the fire

The one line that really sings (heh heh... sings... I'll show myself out) to me is "I am the one I've been waiting for."  Yes.

Stand up for yourself because the people you thought would be there on your behalf often aren't.

I do so love this song.  It will be playing on repeat today.

In meet-up news, I've had to reschedule, because I'm a fool who didn't check her schedule before writing this month's eNewsletter (subscribe HERE) and I've gone and double booked myself.  The meet up is at the same place at the same time, though the pub did recommend coming about half an hour early to get a table.  So I will be there from 6:00pm instead of 6:30.  Come early if you feel like keeping me company while I wait for a table.

In Welsh news, I learnt yesterday that the Welsh word for week literally translates to "eight nights".  This is only significant if you know how the Celts counted the days (ie - they started at sundown instead of sunrise).  I just found it awesome.  My head is a weird place.

The word, in case you're wondering is: wythnos.

Sorry, this post is taking forever to write because I am literally playing that song on repeat, and I keep stopping to rock out to that chorus.  Halestorm rocks indeed.

Right, I have so much work to get to, so I'll go do it now.  While listening to this song.  Here is a picture:

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So, last night Episode Ten of Nights at the Round Table was uploaded.  This time we discussed Gardens of the Moon , Book One of The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson.  I've raved about these books before, and this episode saw absolutely no change in opinion from me.

I love these books.  Love them.  Anywho, you can watch me fangirl over the first book if you like:

This morning I read THIS article by an author asking other authors to shut up about their books already.  I have written on this subject before, but I hate self-promotion.  It feels too pushy, too gross, too bully-ish for me.  I was told, however, when beginning this journey that I was required to scream, "Buy my book!" every half hour or so (not in those exact words, but almost).  I try not to, in all honesty, because it makes me so very uncomfortable.

It's nice to see that I'm not the only author to feel this way, and I'm equally glad to see that in this day and age, my suspicions about being drowned out anyway were pretty much true.

So what is an author to do in order to get noticed in this world?  Well, write, and write well.  Then hope to high hell that Lady Luck smiles upon you enough to get a foothold, and that people spend a few moments to discuss it with friends, review it online, share your work far and wide, because you know what sells books?

Word of mouth.  That's it.

So readers, if there is a book you absolutely loved, leave a review (Amazon, however I dislike their business practices, is a powerhouse for getting the word out.  Goodreads is another place that is great for getting the word out).  Tell your friends.  It makes a bigger impact than all the advertising strategies anyone has ever come up with in the history of trying to sell books.

Last night was the last winter martial arts class at Carleton. I managed to get a migraine yesterday afternoon, so I had to skip.  It sucks, but I was not well.  It was a pretty powerful ache, with the fun of nausea.  I'm feeling better.  Thanks for asking.

As is often the case when I'm feeling low, I got to thinking about the failure I sometimes feel I am.  I mean, It's been five years of writing seriously and it feels like I'm no closer to making a living wage from it than I was when I started.  I'm still fighting for recognition and respect.  There are days (or weeks), when I look back at my "career" and see myself as a hamster in a running wheel, pumping my chubby little legs and never getting anywhere.

So sometimes I get very down on myself.  Sometimes everyone needs a little time to wallow for a bit.


I was having one of those moments last night.  Then I stumbled across this song:

It instantly cheered me up.  It is now my anthem.  I hope it helps you, if you're having loser issues as well.

Now I have to go learn some more Welsh.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So, this is going to be a catch-up post.  I've a lot of things to do today... and every day... Gods above and below, I'm busy!

This is a good thing, by the way.  I'm happy to be this busy.  It means that fruit is growing and there will be a pay off down the line - that awesome feeling of accomplishment when you've finished a project.  Often that pay off is enough.  Hopefully, it'll also mean a financial boost at the end of it.  'Cause, you know, it's good to get paid for your work.

Right, first off the bat, I want to apologise to all the Silver Stag Entertainment subscribers.  I had uploaded last week's filler episode (a blooper reel because it was a holiday), but apparently I had uploaded it as private, and then forgot about it.  It's been made public now, though.  Here it is:

For those of you new to the blog, Silver Stag Entertainment is a YouTube channel I started.  I wanted to highlight some of the really awesome geeky stuff happening in and around Ottawa on this channel.  So far, the main thrust of the channel has been a weekly video podcast where we discuss speculative fiction books and films.

I filmed some yesterday, and it struck me afterwards just how much I adore talking about books and stuff.  I really, really love it.

Any way, if you could all do me a favour and head on over to the YouTube channel (HERE) and subscribe?  And if you could watch and share and join in the conversation if you're so inclined.

My Welsh lessons are ongoing.  And will be for a while.  I spend roughly an hour each day on lessons, and it's sometimes tricky and sometimes easy.  I'm planning a trip to northern Wales next year for a two week writing retreat and will hopefully get to practice some while I'm there.  Here's hoping I actually get to go.  We'll see.

I'm still editing Sky Road Walker like a fiend.  Alas, there is a lot to go through and, goodness, it's a piece of work.  There are a lot of small things to change and some very big things to change and it's the most extensive editing I have ever done.

That said, I'm really enjoying the story.  I'll just take the time to thank everyone who voted during the long years this story was written.  You all did a good job... even when you didn't!

Daughters of Britain is going much more slowly.  I want to have Sky Road Walker done sooner, so it is taking priority at the moment.  There are some days when I don't get to writing at all because the morning routine is taking longer than usual, then I will edit Sky Road Walker and leave Daughters of Britain alone.  It's quite frustrating, actually, but I have a cover artist waiting for a size measurement for the cover, and I really need to get this editing done.

I also have the audio book versions of my stuff that I'm planning on getting done, but haven't been able to find the time for yet.

Then, in the quieter moments at home, I've started experimenting with chainmaille.  Yes, you read that correctly.  At the moment, I'm trying to make a dice bag.  It's going to be chainmaille and leather, and in my head it looks amazing.  So far, I'm roughly halfway done the chainmaille part.  I will be visiting a leather supply store after next pay to pick up some tools, stain and leather enough to finish the bag.  I'm excited by this project.  If it works out well enough, I might start making them to sell at conventions etc.  We'll see.

I should also buy some canvas again.  I had wanted to paint more this year, and that has fallen by the wayside.  I need to pick that up.  There are three paintings I need to do for three different gifts that are long overdue.

Right, I need to get on with life.  Hope you have a great day!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So, there seems to be a huge furore around the Hugo Awards this year.  For those of you who don't know, the Hugo Awards are basically the most prestigious fan-voted awards out there in the speculative fiction world.  Awarded continually since 1955, these awards were always given to people elected by members of Worldcon - the World Science Fiction Convention.  You can read more about them HERE.

Apparently, a group who have decided to call themselves the 'Sad Puppies' openly gamed the system to suit their agenda, which is to say, to get as many books/stories/nominees by right-winged authors (or books that don't have "liberal" messages or something?  I don't even know) onto the ballots.  They whipped their right winged fan base into a frenzy with talk of SJW (Social Justice Warrior... as if fighting for Social Justice is a bad thing... What is this world?) agendas and conspiracies and cabals, and got them to vote a 'Sad Puppy' slate for the awards.  What they did was completely within the rules, but considered extremely poor form by pretty much everyone outside their group.

Now, I have done a fair amount of research on these folk in preparation for today's post, and I'm still confused as to who they are or why they exist at all.  As far as I can tell, they are a bunch of right-wingers who seem very upset that they are passed over for awards and have attributed it to some imagined liberal agenda/conspiracy against them, rather than, say, a reflection of the quality of their work (unlikely, they wouldn't have been published if their work was shit... although... You guys know what I'm talking about, right?), or perhaps of the changing readership (far, FAR more likely).

One of the founders of this apparently Gamergate-esque movement, Larry Correia, accused the Hugo Awards of being a popularity contest and so his pulp action books were being passed over because they "weren't heavy-handed message fic."

He is right, of course.  The Hugo Awards are a popularity contest.  They are fan-voted, after all.  You too can vote for your favourite book by becoming a member of Worldcon.  You'll have to pay forty odd dollars for the privilege, but you're a fan, right?  Totally. Worth.  It.

Here's the thing, though.  It's the most popular book that wins.  It doesn't have to be the best written, or the deepest, or the most thought-provoking.  It just has to be the most popular.  It's not the personality so much as it is the book.

Now, apparently, the egos involved here are so large that there is no way the Sad Puppies can possibly believe that perhaps their works just aren't as well-written as they think they are (not all that likely.  It is rare indeed for a SFF book to be picked up by a publisher if it's utter crap.  There are trad. pubbed books that are utter crap, though) or that the readership has changed (far, FAR more likely) and craves deeper stories, more diverse voices, and more sophisticated narratives than typically found in pulp stories (which tend to be overwhelmingly white men doing  "manly" things to save the day.  Scenes and names change, basic plot rarely does).

No.  Instead, these folks seem to believe that there is some sort of liberal conspiracy led by some sort of cabal of shadowy liberals trying to squeeze them out by... you guessed it... gaming the Hugos for years.  But secretly!  Because they're shadowy.  Or something.

I don't even know.

They use this exact excuse to do what they did with the Hugos, claiming that the awards have been gamed for years in favour of more "liberal" writers and narratives.  So they were going to do the same thing to stick it to that shadowy (as far as I can tell, non-existent) SJW cabal.

Basically, they're throwing a giant, very public temper tantrum like toddlers denied a lollipop instead of behaving like grown-ass adults, all because they're not getting the attention/accolades/I don't even know they think they deserve.

You know what?  That sounds like a bad case of NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) to me.

Apparently, however, they are worse than just this latest stunt.  I have read articles about the Sad Puppies that put them in a very poor light indeed.  They're not just upset about their lack of Hugos, apparently.  They're upset that there are women, and people of colour, and LGBTQ folk, and non-Christians sullying "their" science fiction with a flood of new voices, new perspectives, and new stories.  Apparently, they're upset because that means fewer eyes on their stories about white men doing "manly" things to save the day.  Instead there are black women kicking butt all over the place, and gay men being gay (oh, the humanity!  Won't someone please think of the children?!) and no Christian values!  *Gasp* *Faint*

Yawn.

I, for one, am glad that there are more voices writing science fiction.  They will attract new readers; new readers that might just discover other speculative fiction writers because they were first drawn in by that new, refreshing, voice that the Sad Puppies are so set against.  It means more readers for all writers.  This can only be a good thing - for the Sad Puppies too, if they could see past their own noses.

Having just finished this post, I realise that I'm opening myself up to attack (if the behaviour of other groups similar to this one is any indication) by these Sad Puppies and their hordes.  Not that I could see them being bothered with such a non-event like me.  They have bigger fish to fry.  Like John Scalzi, for example.

I know hoping for introspection in people deluded by NPD is a bit much, but before you all descend on me like a flock of rabid sheep screeching, "It's about ethics is science fiction award-giving, Sonia!" perhaps give some thought to the notion that people are calling you little shits because you are behaving like little shits.

No?  Oh well.

Let the flame war commence.

Ciao.

Good morning, Readers!

I thought of a really good blog post this morning, but forgot what it was when the cats tried to drag me out of bed at stupid o'clock in the morning for a feeding.  So you're stuck with a general update post.

I'm sorry.  Blame the cats.

Apparently, last week was the last Wednesday training day at Carleton University for the season.  It starts up again in May.  I had thought the last class was tonight, and I was going through emotional hell, and really couldn't stomach being around people (I missed last Thursday for the same reason), so I missed the last class.  I am sad.  I almost never miss the last class.

*overly dramatic sigh*

The emotional hell is more or less over, if you're wondering.  It's not resolved, by any means, but it's over.  Sometimes you've just got to walk away.

Last night at training went really well.  I did very well with the weight session before training started.  My arms are now strong enough that I am starting to use the muscles I should be to do pull ups and chin ups.  That one chin up that I've made my goal is super close.  I'm almost there.

It's a bit ridiculous how happy that makes me.

While I'm still on the physical activity topic, I've at last taken the plunge and signed up for the Ottawa Spartan Race.  They call it a sprint, but last year, the course clocked in at 7kms.  I won't exactly be sprinting.  This is my first ever Spartan Race.  I've wanted to do it since I first heard of it, but I've always been too timid to try, too doubtful of my abilities, too certain I was doomed to fail.

The reason I started weight training was because I was sick to death of feeling like a pathetic weakling who couldn't even do something like the Spartan Race if I was walking.  I wanted to get in on the obstacle course action fun, and come hell or high water, I was, damn it!  So I started weight training to build up my strength.  I've been running faithfully two nights a week, and will be upping that to three should warmer weather ever hit.

Ever.

Go away winter.  I love you, but I'm sick of you now.

Where was I?  Oh yes....

The Spartan Race.  So, with thanks to my Kung Fu brother, J.T., with whom I will be running on the day (well... technically.  He's probably going to spend the majority of his time waiting for me at the finish line), I'm in for the first non-elite heat of the second day.  I'm nervous and excited and happy to be finally in a place physically where I think I have a good chance of pulling this off.

If you're interested in the Ottawa Spartan Race, you can find out more info HERE.

In writing news, I'm getting back into the swing of it.  As last week was such hell for me because of the afore-mentioned personal reasons, I didn't write much at all.  Instead, I spent my time hiding away and giving myself space to calm down and heal by disappearing into my game of Minecraft (pocket edition).  I should have brought a book instead, but Minecraft worked well.  I wouldn't recommend it for dealing with life all the time, but when you need to retreat into a shell for a little bit, and you haven't a book handy, Minecraft is a pretty decent way to do it.

I would have been playing Skyrim, which is my favourite gaming escape, but lugging my Xbox around to play over my lunch hour seemed a bit much.  I do, however, plan to take a two week vacation in Skyrim this summer.

Livin' large!

Right, there is a lot of work I need to do today, so I'm off to do it.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Today is What the ...?! news, someone went through all the effort of creating a burner email address just so they could message me via my website contact form with a very short and entirely nonsensical message which simply reads:

Yup.  Here's a screen shot, for those who might not believe me:

Or perhaps they simply lied about the email address, now that I think on it.  I kind of want to email them back with 'bbbb' and perhaps we might go through the entire alphabet together.

Now, I was going to spend this post talking about:

And:

But frankly, this weird email was way funnier and far more interesting than anything I could have come up with, so, thanks, bbb asss.  I appreciate you reaching out to me.

Now I have to go learn some Welsh.

Ciao!