So... I'm blogging on a Friday... which I almost never do!  It's only because I'm super excited and really happy and feeling great.

Part of that is because it is Hallowe'en and I'm sitting at my desk dressed as a pirate.  I'm a little sad that no one else dressed up for Hallowe'en, but I can, if forced, wear my old lady jumper (that's sweater for you North America folk) to hide said costume.  I saw tonnes of costumes as I was walking to work.  Most of the costumed folk were kids and school-aged older kids.  But leaving the house, I did spy an adult leaving her house in an epic witch's costume and that pleased me greatly.

However, I'm really excited about The Winter Wolf.  It is now officially launched!  Yay!  You can purchase it directly from my online store HERE.  If you prefer the Kindle version, you can get that HERE.  If you prefer to acquire the book in a variety of formats, you can do so through Smashwords HERE.  If you prefer to order the paperback directly from the printer, you can do that HERE.  As it has just been launched, it hasn't yet been released on the other platforms, but I'll keep an eye out for you.  It should be up very soon.

Also on release news, a giant congratulations to Matt Shupinski for winning the Goodreads Give Away.  I will have the book out to you very soon.

Speaking of books going out, for those of you who pre-ordered the books, they will be shipped out soon.  My trusty little web Imp will email you when the book is mailed, and provide you with a tracking number.

Those of you who are still reading this, I'm throwing a party to celebrate the launch.  You can get the details of that party HERE.  RSVP if you wish to come!  Hopefully see you there!

That's all I wanted to say, really.  Have a marvellous Samhain, and I'll be back on Monday.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

LAKS DL;F HWV;OIYF'OJ IUSHMCWMLAGLSBF SVELN IUAYFXNEPGA AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ahem.  Pardon me.  I'm just panicking.  A bit.

Alright, a lot.

There is the more immediate panic, from which I am now recovering, of this morning, when I opened my eyes and discovered that I had awoken at the precise time I ought to have been leaving the house if I had any chance of getting to work on time.  I had, it seems, left my alarm clock (my phone) in the living room last night.  It sounded on time... I just couldn't hear it.

I am an idiot.

So I woke up with a realisation no unlike that of Hugh Grant's character in Four Weddings and a Funeral (before my reputation is destroyed, I watched that under duress), and then ran around the house like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get ready.

I am extremely fortunate that the Amazing Flatmate was around and that she was getting a ride into town for her work.  She was also starting at 9:00 am.  I flung myself around getting ready, and made it just in time for the ride to arrive.  So thanks Amazing Flatmate's mum.  You rock.

The other bit of panic is the fact that, despite being told that they have shipped, the books I ordered (and absolutely require) for this Sunday's book launch have not yet arrived.  There were supposed to be here Tuesday.  There are only two delivery days left and I'm panicking. A bit.

Alright, a lot.

GAH!

They're usually so good about getting the books out in time.  In the three years I have been using them, they've been late only once.  This better not be a second time, because I will cry.  I'm seriously stressed.

I'm not sure what I can do if they don't arrive in time.  Cry?  I'm most upset for my readers, many of whom have already reserved copies to be picked up at the launch.  What if the books aren't there for them?  I'm don't want anyone to be disappointed on my account.  The thought of disappointing my readers upsets me a lot.

Sigh.  Well, there's nothing I can do.  I'll just pray the books make it on time and chew my nails until they arrive.

I must have faith.  They will arrive on time.  They will...

LAKS DL;F HWV;OIYF'OJ IUSHMCWMLAGLSBF SVELN IUAYFXNEPGA AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Seriously, though.  I'm fine.  I'm going to do some Welsh lessons now to try and calm down.  After all, frustration is better than panic, no?

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I have exhausted my supply of things to rant about, so I'm just going to catch you up on things in my life.

The first is that J.K. is back from his vacation and I'm once again doing weight training before my martial arts classes.  The week off was much appreciated.  I'm doing much better now that my arm has had time to heal, though pull ups and chin ups are still a huge issue for me.  I still can't do them unassisted, and that bothers me.  A lot.  My goal is to be able to do at least one by Christmas.  That is a sad goal indeed.

Oh well!

Still on my martial arts training, an opportunity to learn knife fighting has come up.  It is conditional - there will be no class if not enough people sign up for it, but hopefully enough people will.

Finally, my dream of becoming a real life rogue straight out of Dungeons and Dragons shall be realised!

When I find the money, I'll also be taking wilderness survival courses as well as tracking/hunting lessons, so I can be a real life ranger as well.

I'm not all that serious about the rogue and ranger stuff, in case you were worried for my mental health.  I am serious about the knife fighting, wilderness survival and tracking, though.  One day.  One day.

I'm quite excited to get on the knife fighting thing.  Though, to be honest, if anyone ever pulled a knife on me in a real life situation, I'd run the frak away.  No amount of training will convince me that engaging in a real life knife fight will end happily for me.  Knives are scary shit.  It's all too close range and far too fast for my comfort... which is partly why I'm taking the knife fighting class.  I want to train myself out of the panic reflex that I always suffer when people get into my very large personal bubble.

It happens even when the person in question is being non-threatening.

So yeah.  That's a thing that I hope will happen very shortly.

In writing news, things are going really well.  I hit 75 000 words yesterday, and I'm finally feeling like I'm in a routine and can bang out roughly 2 000 words a day.  At last.  AT LAST!  (Imagine a loud crash of thunder followed by maniacal laughter)

Naturally, this happens just as people start dying off in the story.  In three days, I have killed four characters, and the words are at last coming easily.  I think there may be something slightly broken in my brain.  I promise I'm not a psychopath.  I think.

Still, I am really, really glad to be back in a position where I can (and do) write and where the words come easily... well easier than they had before.

I think I've written of this before, but it is a genuine thrill for me when the words just come.  I get a little high when that happens.  Even if I don't get many words down, if they start to flow, I feel like the day was an excellent day.  It improves my mood exponentially, and also makes me excited to get up in the morning.  I'm excited to get writing; not because I dislike the story any less, but because the words are at last flowing.

The dam has burst.

Now that I've said that, of course, I have probably cursed myself and it.  I'll try for another 2 000 words today regardless, I suppose.

My Welsh lessons are going.  I've found lesson six tough, largely because I'm a horrific perfectionist when it comes to this stuff and I get really mad at myself if I slip up.  It's like high school all over again.  In any case, I have repeated the lessons several times (lesson six is actually split into two) and will be moving onto lesson six B - useful phrases.

I'm thinking I will download these all and just play them on repeat while I sleep.  Maybe that will help.  I heard it can.  Just like high school, I'm trying everything I can to excel.  It's... so very typical of me.

I think I need to learn to relax about stuff.  Does it really matter if my Welsh isn't perfect?

(The answer is yes, it matters to me, but it really shouldn't matter as much as it does)

Speaking of Welsh lessons, I really ought to get started on mine.  Have a great day all!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

So... Holy crap!  The writing world is up in arms!

You remember when I wrote THIS blog post about a certain author who stalked the woman who catfished her?  Apparently it's a much bigger scandal than I realised.

Now dubbed Authorgate (must every scandal now end in 'gate'?  Really?  Can we not be more inventive than that?), it's a big deal.  And, you know, after some reflection, it ought to be.

There are two ways to read this story.

1. An author was catfished and caught the person responsible.  
   
2. An author stalked a woman who reviewed her badly.

Now, there is no doubt that the reviewer in question was engaging in some deliberate trolling, but what the author did was really not appropriate.  At all.  In fact, I mentioned in the blog post that her article made me feel uncomfortable, as I knew that what she did was very wrong, but that I totally empathised with her.  I saw a lot of myself reflected in that author and it made me squirm a little bit.

It seems that the world aware of this story has been split into two camps, and they're butting heads.  The two armies at war are the author's supporters, and her detractors.  Those who support the author in question note that the reviewer was most definitely catfishing/trolling and that should not be supported in any way, shape or form.  The opposing side notes that the author stalked a woman over her obsession with a bad review and that should not be supported in any way, shape or form.

There are also the 'on the fencers' or those who won't take sides in this perceived battle.  They say things like 'They were both wrong.'

I'm afraid I'm going to anger a lot of people when I say that I agree that they were both wrong.  However, the more I think on the issue, and however much I empathise with the author (and I do.  The reviewer's behaviour extends far and beyond merely a simple bad review and strays wildly into career-threatening cyber-bullying), I find no justification for her behaviour at all.  The author is not the hero in this story.  No one is.

The reviewer, who has a history of being extremely vitriolic (even leading the charge of an online harassment campaign against a fourteen-year-old reviewer who happened to disagree with her review) went about trying to drive someone crazy and she was called out on it.  No doubt she was feeling secure knowing that the balance of power was surely in her favour; if the author ever called her out on it, she would be piled upon by the online community who have made it their mission to keep author's behaviour in check.

As an aside, these check and balances are a good thing, for the most part.  There have been many authors who have responded very poorly to ordinary reviews that weren't stellar.  I have read many a public hissy fit - and when I say hissy fit, I mean more than just expressing dismay about a review - or stories about authors attacking their reviewers over the internet with a shake of my head.  On the flip side, many of these people are abusing their powers, targeting authors for no other reason than them expressing dismay at a poor review or even authors calling for an amicable solution to disputes caused by bad online behaviour from both sides of any given dispute.

On the other side, there is the obsessive author, who literally stalked a woman.  I'm going to say this again, she stalked someone.  That is simply unacceptable behaviour.  It doesn't matter if the person being stalked is considered a horrible online troll.  Stalking is unacceptable.

Favour, authors, if you feel you are being harassed, you make meticulous notes and you turn the evidence you have to the authorities.  Chances are, the authorities won't be able to help you (even if threats against your person have been made, as we can see by the clusterfuck that is Gamergate), but at least you'll know you have done everything you can.  What you don't do is go all vigilante on the catfisher's arse.  You are not the Green Arrow.

No one has failed any cities.

So, to me, both were in the wrong.  The reviewer wasn't wrong to write a bad review of a book, she was wrong in all the other horrible stuff she was doing to said author (and to others).  The author was so, so, so wrong in trying to tackle the issue on her own and stalking someone.

And further, for the record, absolutely nothing justifies being stalked.  Yes, what the reviewer did was wrong (not the actual review, but the other stuff), but the author did not respond appropriately.

Stalking is not okay.

To that end, there is a protest going on with book bloggers called the blogger blackout.  As a protest against the actions of the stalking author, they've decided to suspend all book blogging activities (including blog tours) for a week or so.  THIS blog stated that the blackout was to end on the 27th of October, but from what I've managed to tell after finding out about it yesterday is that the blackout is more of a rolling blackout than a complete blackness of the bloggersphere.  And you know, they're right to do so.

But for the record, I do feel that an author cannot defend themselves against cyber-bullies without bearing the brunt of a wildly inappropriate and vicious backlash.  Cyber-bullies know this, and use the fact to make an author's life an absolute misery.  What recourse is there for an author who cannot even blog about being bullied without it threatening their career (I'm almost afraid to hit publish on this post, for example, because I didn't defend the reviewer)?

Just something to chew on.

But that's enough of that.  There is a battle being fought on another front.  It's NaNoWriMo versus ... people who are against NaNoWriMo for some reason.  I already provided a rebuttal against one such twit in yesterday's post.  There is another writer who despises NaNoWriMo with a passion.  Her article (which can be found HERE) was already wonderfully rebutted HERE.

Look guys, I know that you think your position is some sacred thing, but it's not.  Anybody can writer, and  they should!  If they have the discipline to sit down every day and tap out a thousand words, then who are you to try and stop them?  Further, if they want to try and get those words published, what business is that of yours?  Is the title of writer so sacred that you would take to the information super highway brandishing picket signs to try and stop the dilution of what it means to be a writer?  I mean, really.  This is ridiculous.

NaNoWriMo is a harmless event that encourages people to prove something to themselves.  That is all.  All this anti-NaNoWriMo crap is far more irritating than all the things surrounding NaNoWriMo will ever be.  If writing makes people happy, let them write - even if you find them to be posers, even if them expressing something about the craft (it's a lonely vocation, for example) that you have known for a long, long time makes you roll your eyes.

Let them write.

I happen to think it is brilliant.  It might, for example, make the average person appreciate just how difficult a profession writing is and, perhaps, they might feel much more empathy for the career writer and less inclined to think that writers, in don't know, shouldn't get paid for their hard work.

Yes, every month is NaNoWriMo for serious writers.  I did NaNoWriMo two years in a row, before I gave up on it as I write like the dickens every month (usually.  Human is an interesting aberration on an otherwise unblemished record) and the event actually ended up being a distraction from my various works in progress.  But goodness, people writing a whack of words one month of the year has absolutely no effect on the writing that I do, nor does it affect your writing, I'll wager.  All this whinging these anti-WriMoers are doing feels like they just need something to rail against to make themselves feel superior to the rest of the writing masses; that they are trying to make themselves feel more special by telling everyone else that they're not special.

That's annoying.  Can I boycott that?

Oi, you lot, up there in your ivory towers.  Time to come down.  Now.

So, by all means, 'serious' writers, avoid November and treat those people who participate in NaNoWriMo as if they're a scourge upon the earth.  I'll be over in the corner waving my pompoms in support of those who take the annual plunge into frustration, loneliness and despair.... after I get my own daily word count down.  This book won't write itself.

You can do it WriMoers!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

Someone has declared war on writing and (unpublished) writers.  Apparently.  Specifically, it's some guy named Tom Mitchell who has declared war on writing and writers, and he did so in THIS article.  Friend and fellow writer A. Laramey made his ridiculous screed known to me in her blog post last Wednesday.  She said she was conflicted about it.  I'm not.  It's a stupid rant from a frustrated writer who hates that the 'wrong sort of people' write and let it be known they're writing on social media.

He actually states that he "...realised the full extent of my hatred for unpublished novelists during an evening of drinking craft beer with a friend."

How horribly ironic, him being an unpublished novelist and all.  Perhaps he's trying to come off as ironic/funny hipster-ish but, as April said, he misses the mark.  By a wide margin.

He looses me completely when he starts in on genre, but I'll start from the very beginning.

Oh for Pete's sake!  This was his reaction when a friend told him that he wanted to write a novel.  This was Mr. Mitchell's reaction.

Dafuq did I just read?  People planning to write novels in the future are a symptom of the failing health of the literary world?  What?  Am I the only one who finds this nonsensical?  Not to appear rude, but people not writing would be far more indicative of the literary world's failing health.  After all, there must be people to write in order to have a healthy literary world.  There must be writers.  More, there must be new writers, new voices, new perspectives, else the blood of the literary world stagnates and goes stale.  People writing lots is ultimately good for the literary health.  Sure, not all of what will be written is good, but that is neither here nor there.

Like many people, he has a fear that more people will be writing fiction than reading it.  I'm not sure that that has not already come to pass myself.  However, in general, people who write also read.  People who hope to write well should read a lot.  Those who are serious about the craft soon come to realise this, and they start reading.  A lot.  Even if they never become serious about their craft, what's the harm?  Let them write.  What's it to you?

This is actually more loaded than I think I can handle without loosing my temper.  I find the most problematic aspect of all are the grossly overt classist overtones of this sentiment.  Working class people starting a novel?  Say it ain't so!

And is the desire to be a writer unreasonable?  I didn't get that memo.  I don't find it unreasonable at all.  Anyone can and should write a story if they feel they have the skill and discipline to get it done.  Does that mean they're entitled to be picked up by traditional publishers?  No.  But if it gives them pleasure and purpose to try, what's it to you?  If they decide to self-publish, well, good on them.  That's a lot of work and expense.  Again, if that's what they decide, how is that a problem?  They will be tried in the court of popular opinion, if they're seen at all.

Wait, there's an AmXMen tag?  Get me in on that!  My superpower is not going postal when people prove to be snobbish, elitist jerks.  Joking aside, I have no idea what this complaint is about.  If someone is writing, they have every right to say so.  And if they write every day, be it only fifteen minutes a day, they have every right to identify themselves as a writer, whether or not they have a finished manuscript.  Whether or not they are published.  If they're writing, they're a writer.  Let me define writer for those who still don't understand:

Writer
noun
One who writes.

There you go.  That's all you need to know about what a writer is and who can claim to be one.

Yes, because encouraging people to follow their passions and give them a platform with which to achieve something is inherently evil/wrong.  Do I have an eye roll gif?  Where is my stockpile of eye roll gifs?

He then goes on to express 'almost' pity for agents, who must be flooded every December with ill-edited manuscripts, having to read piles and piles of drivel around the end of NaNoWriMo.  This, I concede, may well be an issue.  Even still I cannot fault these writers - and they are writers, whether any of us like it or not - for trying.

If you have a completed, semi-completed or barely started manuscript, you, sir/madame, are a writer.  As it happens, you are currently an unpublished writer, but a writer nonetheless.  Given this is the case, please excuse my confusion as to what the point of this is exactly.  Is this a projection of self-loathing?

Then there is this sentence:

Mr. Mitchell, I'm curious how you propose people acquire this skill without practice?  Writing, like all skills, must be constantly practiced in order to be improved upon.  Skill is not something that someone is born with.  It is learned, worked upon.  Like throwing a ball or shooting an arrow accurately, it must be practiced.  How are people to get sufficiently good at writing to please your obviously very delicate sensibilities if the very act of practicing - i.e. writing - irritates you enough for you to write an entire screed against people who do it.

So sure, what they're writing now might not be great stuff, but give these 'wanna be writers' a few years, and they'll be the next Steven Erikson (I chose a very good fantasy writer specifically because of the next quote)... if they're lucky enough to be noticed.

And yes, plenty of unpublished stuff out there is utter rubbish (and a lot of published stuff, I might add).  There is also plenty of unpublished stuff out there that is absolute gold.  Just because a work is currently unpublished does not mean that it is entirely unworthy.

At risk of being one of those people, OMFG!  What?  Fantasy gaining popularity is a problem?  For the record, he targets science fiction as well, with space opera receiving a special mention.  As a speculative fiction writer, I'm trying very hard to contain my current ire.  I fail to see a problem with fantasy becoming mainstream.  Do you know what that means?  It means that more people are reading speculative fiction.  Let me reiterate what is important about that sentence.

More. people. are. reading.

And if more people are reading speculative fiction, it means that publishers are going to be hungry for more talent in speculative fiction.  That means some of those currently unpublished speculative fiction writers will one day be published speculative fiction writers.  Is this what is really bugging Mr. Mitchell?  That these speculative fiction writers may be published before him?

I will also add that he paints the average fantasy lover in a terrible light:

As a fit young woman with little to no facial hair, I'd like to send a hearty 'piss off' to Mr. Mitchell.  I love fantasy.  I love science fiction.  I'm less thrilled by horror, but that's neither here nor there.

(And I have thus far played one game of a tabletop R.P.G.  I loved it.  I own a D20, and plan on acquiring a full set.  Come at me, bro.)

RAGE!

What a tit.  Look, I would be apologetic that the wonderful unadulterated love of gaming and speculative fiction is bothering Mr. Mitchell, but I'm not quite that Canadian.  No one is forcing you to join in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.  People enjoying themselves... in public (gasp)... makes you angry?  You think the harmless partaking in some games is undignified?  You need to seek a therapist.

Let me guess, a card game after dinner is fine, BUT THEY BETTER NOT BE MAGIC: THE GATHERING CARDS SO HELP ME (dead) GOD!

Seriously, where are my eye roll gifs?  Where did I put them?

And then there is this gem:

I think this is the crux of the matter.  Somewhere in Tom Mitchell's psyche sits the archetypal writer; the lonely bookish type who knows his genius... and is lonely in that knowledge.  In Mr. Mitchell's psyche, that's sexy.  I'm going to leave alone the glorification and romaticisation of a life so unfulfilled it results in suicide alone.  I'm pretty sure I don't need to point out how incredibly wrong and twisted that is.

I'm not going to, actually.  Fuck anyone who reduces serious mental illness, reliance on drugs and tragic loss of life to some twisted aspiration.  Fuck that guy right in the ear.

I'll wager, however, that Mr. Mitchell envisioned himself as that sexy under-appreciated unpublished writer; that rakish bookworm with a good heart and tortured soul (excuse me while I barf, please).  I suspect that this piece is a reaction to finding out that he is not so special after all, not nearly as unique.  And he doesn't like it.  What's more, he doesn't like anyone who doesn't fit the embarrassingly archaic and archetypal image of an unpublished writer he's bought into heart and soul.  Those people are undignified, are fat and gross, they play games and have fun.  It may be that Mr. Mitchell had the sudden realisation that his exclusive club - the club of unpublished writers - has a broader membership than he wanted, and it includes some (in his opinion) undignified types; it includes types that do not match the extremely limiting image of the unpublished writer he has so clearly romanticised in his own mind.

The reality is, anyone can be an (unpublished) writer, and that makes us all less special.  I would contend that we most certainly ought to get paid for our work, just as plumbers, taxi drivers and check-out clerks.  I would also contend that we are no more special than plumbers, taxi drivers and check-out clerks.  Furthermore, just like plumbers, taxi drivers and check-out clerks, we are varied in our interests and hobbies outside of our occupation, including but not limited to playing tabletop R.P.G.s.  We're human beings, not gods.

The bottom line?  Writer's aren't special.  It's time to come down from our ivory towers.  It was time a long time ago.

That reality seems a little tough to bear for some.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

As many of you know, yesterday was a hard day for Ottawa.  For those of you who don't know, it went something like this:

Shortly before ten in the morning, a soldier guarding the War Memorial in downtown Ottawa was shot in the chest.  He is confirmed to have died from his injuries later in the day.

The assailant, carrying what witnesses describe as an assault rifle, then ran to Parliament Hill.  He entered the centre block.  Security moved swiftly and a fire fight inside Centre Block ensued.  One parliament staffer, a guard, was shot in the leg.

The shooter, identified as Canadian born Michael Zahef-Bibeau, was shot and killed in that gun fight.  Ottawa's dowtown core went under lock down as they searched for possible accomplices/other shooters.  All across Canada, military bases closed as a precaution.

Sergeant-At-Arms, Kevin Vickers, is the man who killed the gunman, according to the reports.  I have no doubt that this man's actions were pretty damned heroic yesterday.  Many MPs took to social media thanking him and his team for ensuring that the death toll was no higher than it was and that they were taken to safety quickly and efficiently.

According to what I've read, the working theory is currently that the gunman was acting alone.  Even still, there is a greater police presence on the streets of Ottawa today and details are slow in coming as the matter is still under investigation.

Yesterday, I watched the CBC news live feed on my computer in shock.  This sort of thing is not supposed to happen here.  In Canada?  In Ottawa?

It's hard to take.  I'm still upset about it.

When news of Corporal Cirillo's death was announced and when they named the victim, I started to cry.  I cannot imagine the grief his friends and family must be going through; to have such a promising young life cut so short and when he was doing something so seemingly safe and sacred as guarding the War Memorial in the centre of Canada's capital.

I'm still processing it all, so this post might be a little incoherent.

I went to training last night.  It was part of my weekly routine, and I needed the normalcy.  I only managed to train for a hour, though, before fatigue got the better of me.  It's tough work, spending hours trying hard not to cry.

I am also very afraid.  The thought of any accomplices doesn't scare me.  It's not that I'm terrified of another attack.  I'm not.  I'm terrified of what our PM will do, using this as an excuse.  For those of you who don't already know, I do not like our Prime Minister.  I think he is sinister.  I don't think he is working for the betterment of Canada and her people.  I feel like he has single-handedly destroyed everything that made Canada such a wonderful place to be; that made this country, my adopted home, something I fell in love with and cherished.

I am terrified he will use today's incident to do worse.

But there are things that warm my heart and give me hope.

Ignoring the PM's posturings, New Democratic Party leader Tom Mulclair had some very moving words to say last night about what this attack attempted to do, and failed.:

That is the Canada I fell in love with.

I also read a headline that said: "After the Attack, We're Still Canada."  Click the link and read the article.  It's a great article that more articulately says what I want to.

You see, after the attack, I've come to realise just how much I've fallen in love with this country.  The Canada I know and love is kind and compassionate, level-headed and practical.  It is wide swaths of pristine, untouched landscapes.  It is respect; for the land and for each other.

The Canada I fell in love with is being slowly dismantled by it's current leader, but I don't believe that will last long.  Canadians are peaceable, but we aren't naive or stupid.  The tactics employed by the current leadership has not gone unnoticed.  People joke that Canada has no national identity.  That's not true.  We are a country of many, from all walks of life, and are joined by the common values we share.

Perhaps one of the best examples of Canadianism is how Canada's national news, the CBC, handled the live reporting of the events that occurred in downtown Ottawa yesterday.  The report was sober, conditional and the facts were given the respect they deserved.  There was no sensationalism.  There was no flashy graphics and epic music.  There was sound reporting, delivered soberly and thoughtfully.  Peter Mansbridge and the entire CBC National News team deserve credit for the spectacularly mature, even and thoughtful way in which they handled the reporting of the crisis yesterday.

I am not the only one who noticed.  There are several articles floating around the interwebs praising the CBC's handling of the reporting.  THIS one is my favourite.

Despite our PMs cutbacks to the CBC, they remain a fantastic, and very Canadian, channel.

Is it weird to be so proud of a television station?  I don't think so.  The CBC did themselves and this country credit.  Well done.

The words of Tom Mulclair are another example of what is wonderful about Canada and Canadians.

I have heard people accuse Canada of cowardice.  But this is far from the truth.  Canada's courage is quiet.  It is the courage to remain open and kind and compassionate in the face of great challenges.  It is the strength to pick up and carry on, to not get carried away into imprudent action by overwrought emotion.  That takes a considerable amount of strength.  It is easier by far to fly off the handle than to take a deep breath and seek better solutions.

Canada doesn't scream its bravado from its rooftops, but that doesn't mean that this nation lacks bravery.  Indeed, I find Canada's quiet, unassuming courage one of its best characteristics; that earthy, practical will to push on without need for constant and loud bragging.  Thinking about it makes me so proud to be Canadian, and it gives me hope that we can and will pull ourselves out of this sadness in very Canadian fashion.

If any political leader is reading this for any reason whatsoever, this is what I want you to know:  I love Canada.  She is a nation of courageous men and women with big hearts.  But what makes them courageous is not indignant blithering.  What makes Canada brave, what makes me proud to be here and be Canadian, is the courage to stand up to injustice, to stand up for respect, to be kind and open and to love in a world that seems to be drowning in vile rhetoric and hatred.

I worry for this Canada under our Prime Minister.

Please, stand on guard.  Protect Canada and all that has made her wonderful.  Lord knows, Harper will not.

I'll leave off now, with one last shout-out.  Last night during Pittsburgh's hockey game against the Philadelphia Flyers they sang O Canada in solidarity with us.  It was thoughtful and wonderful and thank you, Pittsburgh.  You made me cry happy tears.

Ciao.

Good morning, Readers!

Well, things have happened (not to me) that has made me think really hard.

Oh, but before I get into this, I'd like to take the time to extend the warmest congratulations to my Kung FU brother and sometime Nights at the Round Table contributor J.P. for his very recent engagement to his long time girlfriend.  I may have squealed like a child when I was told last night.

Right, now that's out of the way, back on topic.  I posted THIS article to my Facebook page yesterday.  I mentioned that it made me uncomfortable because I can totally see myself in the author of the article, even though I recognise what she did as very wrong.

Some real world advice to everyone, not just writers:

There are some people in the world who give their lives meaning by attempting to tear others down.  I would wager that it gives them genuine pleasure to watch people around them go insane on their account.  There's nothing you can really do about it.  It could be a life-destroying, career-ending move to engage with these people in any way.  It's not right, and it's not fair.  But neither is life.

Even though I know the above is very true, I have a real problem keeping my mouth shut when I see something I consider unfair.  Looking at my post history should tell you that.  I rant.  A lot.  Ranting is my way of doing something, of working my way through the issue at hand, of sorting out my feelings.  It's not a very effective method for making a change in the world, but it does make me feel better.  I will step into an online fight willingly if I feel an injustice has been served.  And I'm pretty dogged about it, too.

That said, I do try hard not to engage directly with any troll that decides they want to target me for their perverse pleasure.  Generally, I feel like these people are hurting; they're feeling their insignificance and will do whatever it takes to make those around them feel insignificant as well.  I try to remind myself of that every time I come across someone trying to drag me down.

In spite of myself, it very rarely works.  I had a troll for a while on my YouTube channel.  I admit, I engaged.  I wasn't overly vitriolic, actually, and by the end, he seemed like nothing more than a really lonely and misguided dude.  I reckon we'd get on if we met face to face.  But it could have gone very badly for me.  A lot of trolls are incredibly smart.  They know what buttons to press.  They know how to make you feel miserable.  They know exactly how to manipulate you and your feelings to always look the best in a given situation.  They could make it so that they appear the victims even though they're the one in total control of the situation.

That is why it's generally a good idea to not engage.  I'm telling this to my reflection as I type.

I also understand just how hard it is to keep your mouth shut and walk away; especially if you feel personally attacked and victimised.  It's frakkin' hard.  And that's why I understand the author in the article.  I get the obsessiveness over the troll.  I get the desire to understand why.  Why is this person doing this?  Why to me? Why?  Why?  Why?

I get it.

And that's why the article made me uncomfortable.  Because I understood.  I empathised.  And I knew what she did was wrong.

I am very fortunate that I haven't been trolled very hard.  I haven't felt the compulsion for what the author in the article did.  I have never felt the need to literally stalk someone who has been making it their life goal to upset me.

Phew!

So, what this author did is not acceptable in any way shape or form.

Neither, however, is what the cat-fisher did.  The problem, of course, is that as an author, it is now impossible to stand up for yourself without being blacklisted on platforms such as Goodreads,com as an ABB (Author Behaving Badly).  However much self-defence is warranted, doing it will land you on the never-again lists of readers and reviewers everywhere... and you need readers and reviewers.  You're a writer.  You need them.  And you know, even the smallest infraction, real or imagined, will land you on that list.  It's gotten to the point where many authors feel like they cannot blog about a bad review (even in vague terms).  They certainly cannot defend themselves against reviewers who do nothing but attack the author in their 'reviews' rather than tackle the problems in the book (which is what a review ought to do).

Which is where I will land myself in trouble, I know.  I have blogged about a bad review, in vague terms.  The thing is, I made up my mind a long time ago that I did not want to be one of those writers who made themselves to be more than they are.  I have no intention of looking down at the masses from some lofty tower of literary achievement.  I actually really like interacting with my readers.  I want to be there for them.  I want this precisely because I know how wonderful it feels when someone you admire spends a small amount of their very precious time to acknowledge you.  For that reason, I tend to be very open with my thoughts and feelings on this blog.  And that review really got me down, so I blogged about it.

Mind you, it was less about the review than about how the review made me feel.  Clue: like crap.  I tried hard to shrug it off, but couldn't.  Objectively, I know that everyone is entitled to an opinion.  And it was a legitimate review, attacking the book rather than myself, which is legit.  That's a proper review.  It still got me down.

I suppose the difference between me and the author of the article is that I didn't engage with the reviewer.  That doesn't matter, though.  What I did would be enough to land me on any ABB list.  And that is a scary prospect.  I want to be able to share my journey with you - both the ups and the downs.  I want to be open and available to you.  But the very idea that people will make it their life's mission to destroy my career if I do that makes me want to run for the hills.

It's not right.  It's not fair.  But that is the reality I and many other writers face.  So what do I do?  Do I cease to be myself?  Do I spend my life walking on eggshells?

I don't think I can stop being myself.  I spent all of my formative years trying to hide myself from the people around me.  It's a shitty way to live.  So, despite myself, I will probably still blog about the things that upset me, as well as the things that make me happy.  I will continue to be myself, and to be the human being I am, flaws and all.

What I must continually remind myself of, though, is to avoid engaging with a reviewer for any reason - even if it's to say thank you.  I certainly will have to stay well away from bad reviews.  No duh.  It's easy to do for legitimate reviews of people who just didn't like my book.  It's much harder to do for reviews that are not so much reviews as they are personal attacks.

But, alas, that is a part of the job, it seems.  What pity.

Here is something I love by spoken word artist Shane Koyczan, whom I adore: