Good morning, Readers!

The above image just makes me giggle.  It's so silly.

I have news, but I can't announce it yet.  So I'm just going to tell you I have news and let you stew on it.

IF I MUST SUFFER SO MUST YOU!

Ahem...

Anyway, yesterday was a perfectly (not) normal day.  I went to work.  I tried to stay awake (I've been needing more sleep than usual these days.  It's probably still grief over the election results.  I know I'm not American, but I'm concerned for the country and its impact on the world).  I did things.  I went home.

Nothing unusual at all.

So I'm being facetious.  Yesterday wasn't really that spectacular.  It's just like what I said.  I went to work.  I worked.  I went home.

Writing has not been happening, despite my earlier statement about NaNoWriMo and getting this manuscript finished.  I'm finding it really tough to bully my way through my current inability to write.  I only have some thirty thousand words left to go.  I could finish it this year.

I could...

But I'm struggling.

Yesterday, for example, I stared at a blank screen for a solid hour before I gave up.

Things aren't looking up today, but I'll try again.

That's all we can do, right?  Try?

*sigh*

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Yesterday I received a lovely email from someone who noticed my unabashed fan-girling over The Malazan Book of the Fallen series by Steven Erikson on Goodreads.com.  He talked about the series a bit, and then wrote this (placed here with his permission):

This made my day yesterday!

So, firstly, thank you Mr. Benoit for taking the time to write me.  It's not often I get emails of this nature.  It's rarer still that I'm thanked for doing what I do.  It makes a refreshing change from all the blog posts about how writers are literally the worst.

​There's actually a lot to talk about here.

It is true.  Not many people follow their passions.  Fear might be a part of it.  Pragmatism might be a larger part of it.  Had I been a different person in a different position, I might never have started this writing thing.  I am very fortunate in that I have a full time job.  While it doesn't pay all that much, it's enough to feed and clothe me, put a roof over my head and have a little extra for fighting the fight - for buying stocks of books, tables at conventions, etc.

If I didn't have a job that permitted me a lot of spare time, with reasonable hours, and awesome co-workers, I'm not sure I could be doing anything that I currently am.  I am astonished at the writers/other artists who do what they do without all the short-cuts I've been lucky to receive.  If I wasn't someone who dreams far too much, and who didn't have the incredible support I do, I probably wouldn't try to do what I do.  I wouldn't be able to afford it, for starters.  If I was working multiple jobs to keep myself from drowning, I wouldn't have the energy or time for writing.  My privilege permits me to do what I do, and there are people who manage it who don't have what I have.

So, to those people, thank you for being a storyteller.  Your voices are needed, and I am humbled by you stretching yourself beyond what I am capable of to do what you do.

Of course, there are plenty of people whose passions are not career related - those brave souls who stand up to oppression, the water protectors at Standing Rock, who are passionately defending the land, animal rescuers, LARPers, etc.  There are a lot of people who follow their passions, but those aren't career related.  Not everyone is suited to a life in or passionate about the arts, and that's okay!

Belief in myself is also a factor, it's true.  Though, for me at least, it is less a belief in myself than it is a belief in my stories.  My writing is both intensely personal and quite detached from myself.  I often describe it as having the ghost of the protagonist of the story come to me and tell me their stories.

Spoiler alert:

Usually it's how they died.

I'm a pretty empathetic person, so while writing the stories, I go through emotional hell.  Every pain they feel, I feel.  I've had nightmares, crying fits, and protracted periods of instability because of what I'm writing.  It's weird... okay, it's insane... but that's the way it is for me.

There is no way I would put myself through that if I didn't think it was worth it.  And what makes it worth it are the stories themselves.  They speak to me in a deep way.

In The Seraphimé Saga, for example, I was moved by the heroine's struggle, by her determination and her willingness to self-sacrifice.  It was the love she had for her home and her people that compelled her to do what she did.  I think that is beautiful and brave.

The novel Human isn't just a vampire story.  It's about grief and duty and, of course, love.

My unpublished historical fiction Daughters of Britain is a story about a young Briton who has faced awful things.  She learnt to hate Rome, and by extension, Romans and any Roman allies.  But she learns that not all of them are evil.  She learns to forgive, and even love, without giving up the fight for her home and her people.  I heart this story muchly.

In my (also unpublished) science fiction, Skylark, the hero of the story faces a choice - follow orders and watch the world burn, or rebel and do what is right.  What is right is rarely what is easy.  The cost is dear indeed (and so it is for him, the poor bastard), which is why so few people seem willing to do it.

I believe in these stories with everything I have.  As to my ability to write them well, that is up for debate, though I've gotten a lot of positive feedback thus far.

Just not from publishers.

*runs to a corner and sobs*

​So while I think I can write, it's what I write that drives me so hard.  I don't really feel like the originator of these stories.  I'm merely the conduit.

That sounds really dumb.  Sorry.

And lastly, I'm so glad that anyone would take inspiration from me at all.  I can hardly be considered a success.  Outside of my sphere of friends, practically no one knows my stories.  People aren't talking about my work widely, I don't make any money from sales outside of conventions, and if my name is ever mentioned, pretty much everyone will ask "who?"

But this is always the way of it if someone is starting out.  People often only ever see the successes and call it an over-night phenomena.  While such successes do occasionally happen, most of the time, those "over-night successes" are preceded by years and years of hard, unnoticed and unrewarded work.

And I'm willing to do that work.

I could not imagine that anyone would find inspiration from what I do.  I often feel like I'm a complete failure.  There are extended periods of frustration and sadness and moments when I entertain the idea of quitting.  I'm a extremely humbled and flattered that anyone finds that inspirational.  If I can serve as any kind of example for anyone, then I must be doing something right, and that makes me very, very happy.

Even if I never reach any kind of great success with my writing, I will always have this email to refer to.  I can take great pride in this completely unexpected aspect of my work.

So thanks, Mr. Benoit.  I am genuinely tickled pink by your email.

And now I must go work.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Yesterday was my birthday.

I spent the day at work, and received a gift from my lovely boss.  It was very sweet of her.  Totally unnecessary, but very sweet.

After work, I treated myself to a dinner out and a movie.  Dinner was at Milestones Bar and Grill at Lansdowne Park.  The movie was Hacksaw Ridge.  It was a great film about a genuinely remarkable man.  I highly recommend going to see that one.

Then I enjoyed a beautiful walk home.  I mean, it was mostly beautiful, until I crossed the street near my home, at which point a driver totally ignored the fact that I had the little man that indicates "walk" and dam near ran me over.

I've had a number of ridiculously close calls, but this is the first time I seriously thought I might die.  I literally had to jump backwards, with visions of the front bumper crushing my hip.  It was such a close call that I genuinely yelled at the driver.  There was a litany of inventive curse words.  I'm almost sorry about it, but frankly the jerk was driving blind.  I don't kow how he missed me, incidentally.  I was wearing a bright red coat.

Also apparently when adrenaline hits that hard, my usually mildly filthy mouth becomes a cesspit.  This should surprise no one.

So, other than the near death experience, yesterday was a lovely day of self-pampering.

I know a lot of people find going out alone a sad thing, but I really enjoy it.  Sometimes it's a good idea to check in with yourself and pamper yourself.

And I think we could all use a little bit of pampering.  Especially now.

So go treat yourself!

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

It's official.  As of today, I am too old for this shit.

So, it's my birthday.

I dislike celebrating it for a number of reasons.  Rather unusually, from what I've gathered, the reminder of my mortality isn't one of them.  It just seems like a lot of fuss for nothing.

I've decided, however, to turn today into something special.  Not for me.  I don't need anything.  As it turns out, though, there are people who do.  And there's a great way to help them out.

Kiva,org is a website that enables you, ordinary citizens, to help people help themselves   Through them, you can provide a small loan (a microloan), to help them buy the things they need to aid their businesses.  As the business grows, they pay you back for that loan.

It's a fantastic thing, I think, because it's not really charity. It's a loan.  You get your money back.  And people's lives improve.

This is all completely voluntary, of course, but if anyone was tempted to buy me a birthday gift, I would very much prefer it if you were to join my Kiva.org team and give a loan to someone trying to improve their lives.  I have everything I need, even if not everything I want.  They could use it more than I.

Here is the link to the team.

Be sure to just make it a microloan.  If you try and do it in my name, you won't get your money back (the repayments will go to the website instead of back to you).  I mean, do what you want, but at least this way you can get your $25.00 back.

Anywho, thanks very much!  I shall be celebrating my birthday with sending book review requests and beta reading!

Have a fantastic day.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

I'm still reeling from the U.S. election, but my shock has subsided and has been replaced by anger.

So.  Much.  Anger.

I'm also tired.

But the feeling of helplessness has gone.

Instead, there is only anger.

I've long ago learnt to channel my anger.  If I was still a teenager, my arms would be bleeding and raw from cuts and scratches and goodness knows what else.  That was how I used to channel my anger.  Now, however, it's different.

Now I'm ready to act.

Things are probably going to get really hairy in the states.  Women and the LGBTQ+ community are going to start losing their rights.  It's going to be really bad for immigrants and POCs.  But that doesn't mean we have to stand by and watch it helplessly unfold.

Those rights were hard won.  They'll be hard kept.

But they will be kept.

In the meantime, if you feel you must flee for your life, my house is open.  There is a fold out bed, and plenty of floor space.  And two cats who would love to love you.

If you are not in America (or you are) and you're worried sick, there are organisations that exist to protect people and their rights.  Jezebel has a list of organisations you can donate to HERE.  My favourite is ACLU, who has publicly issued a warning that they exist to protect the civil liberties of the American people, and they are up for the fight.  I'm also very fond of the Centre for Reproductive Rights.

Canada has her own issues with bigots.  She is not a perfect country, we are not a perfect people.  But I will do my absolute best to ensure that the evil does not spread.  I will be standing up for what is good here in my own country, and I will invite every Canadian with heart not to let hatred win.  Stand up for your fellows.

If you are Muslim, and feel threatened, I will walk with you.

If you are trans, and feel threatened, I will walk with you.

If you are a woman, and feel threatened, I will walk with you.

If you are a person of colour, and feel threatened, I will walk with you.

I am here for you.

Bonus: I know martial arts.  #BodyGuardAsFuck

Fighting back doesn't mean throwing punches, necessarily (though it can. We fought wars to protect rights and stop atrocities)... even though I'm happy to.  I'm in that mood.  Fighting back is also standing up.  It's linking arms and singing songs.  Fighting back is becoming good, and staying that way when the rest of the world seems evil.

Fighting back was Frodo and Sam walking with no end in sight and no idea if they could.

Fighting back was Faramir releasing his hobbit hostages, and remaining hopeful in the darkest hours.

Aragorn rallied the troops and fought the battles.  But Sam is the hero of this tale.  He stood by his friend.  He did the right thing.  He remained kind, and calm, and steadfast.  Frodo could not have done anything without Sam.

For those of you who aren't Aragorn, don't feel you cannot help at all.  Be Sam.  It would have all failed without Sam.  So be Sam.

The world needs you.  But only when you're ready.

It's okay if you're not up for the fight yet.  It's okay.  Take the time you need.  Gather your strength.  Mourn.  You're allowed.  Your feelings are valid.  Hide from the world for a bit.

And when you're ready, I will see you on the field.

I'm here.  You're not going to face this fight alone.

I am sitting at work, a cup of coffee with marshmallows in it (don't judge, they're cardamom marshmallows and they're delicious), trying to process what happened last night, what you have done.

You had a chance, America, to prove to the world that you truly believed in your mantra of life, liberty and justice for all.

Life, liberty, and justice.

For all.

But you went a different way last night.  You chose instead to revel in ignorance.  You made yourselves small, and snuffed your light.  You were pulled, like a bull by the nose, into accepting, and then celebrating the worst of humanity; the hatred, the bigotry, the anger.  And now those you love will pay dearly for it.

With your vote, your sister, your daughter, your wife has lost the hard-won right to decide her own health care matters.  Is she pregnant, and will that pregnancy will likely cost her her life?  You must watch her die.  Was she raped and now pregnant?  You must stand by and watch her suffer through that pregnancy with no way for her to move forward from her assault, chained for nine months to a medical condition forced upon her by someone else.

Sit her down now, and explain to her, America, why she mattered so little to you.  Tell her that you voted for a man who has boasted of sexual assault, who has a double-digit list of women claiming sexual assault, and a pending court case for the rape of a thirteen year old girl.  Explain to her that she must have her life threatened, her liberty suffocated, with no recourse for justice because you were afraid of brown people.  Look her in the eye and tell her.

Explain to your LGBTQ+ friends why their rights are stripped.  Tell them that you elected a team, one of whom signed a bill that would throw them in jail for even applying for a marriage license and was a supporter of the torture that is conversion "therapy."  Tell them how little they mattered to you.  Let them know that your fear of brown people made it so that their very existence is threatened.  Look them in the eye, America, and tell them that their life and liberty are now threatened because of you.  Tell them that they will find no justice.

Turn to your immigrant friends, your Muslim friends, your black friends.  Tell them how little they mattered to you when you cast your vote.  Tell them that you voted for a man with a history of extremely racist actions.  Look them in the eye, and tell them that you were too angry at the world to ensure their life, their liberty, or justice for them.

Now turn to the future.  Explain, for the history books, why you did what you did.  Explain why you felt it was alright to strip so many people of the things you professed once to love - Life, liberty, and justice for all.

Life, liberty, and justice.

For all.

Explain to the children of tomorrow why you threw it all away.  Explain it to them.  History is watching.  History will not look favourably on this moment.

Life, liberty, and justice for all.

For all.

It's easy, I think, for all rational people to despair.  Gods know I wept last night.

But I would advise against it.  I know that America isn't full of hateful, spiteful bigots.  I know that there are so many good people sitting at work, or in their living rooms, or lying in bed, unable to find the will to move.  So I would ask you, specifically you, and any who still value the core that made America that shining beacon on the hill - Life, Liberty, and Justice For All - to mobilise.  Now is not the time to give up, to give in, to crumble away like a pillar of salt.

I believe you will have a fight on your hands.  You are going to have to fight hard to ensure America doesn't fall into the terrible fate yawning like a great chasm of the darkest repeated history before us.  You cannot stand idle on this any longer.  Now, more than ever, we must find the courage to be good in the face of evil.

Let me tell you a little something I've learnt about courage:

It is not a screaming banshee demanding the blood of battle.  Courage is reaching across the divide to grasp the hand of someone different from yourself and helping them up.  Courage is standing between the bully and his target.  Courage is standing up for compassion.  It's having empathy in the face of the mindless mob.  It's facing the darkness in yourself, and challenging yourself to return to the light.  It's falling down, and getting back up, again and again and again.

America, you have fallen down.

But I believe in you.  You must find the courage to stand up again.  Reclaim the values that actually made you great.

Life, Liberty and Justice For All.

For all.

And while you fight for your lives, know that you will have an ally in me.  I am not perfect.  I will make mistakes.  And I'm really introverted, so I might disappear for a while as I recharge, but I will be here.  Fighting with you and for you.

Because it's not too late to stop history repeating.  It's not to late to reclaim the world from the grip of selfishness and the evils that follow it.  It's a fight.  It will be hard.  But I will be here, chanting with you,

Life, Liberty, and Justice For All.

Good luck, America.

Sincerely,

Me.

Good morning, Readers.

It can come as no surprise that I am not a Trump supporter.  In fact, I am baffled by Trump supporters, more so by otherwise sane, rational, compassionate people who are Trump supporters.  Standing on the outside looking in, it's absolute madness.

Today is the day America might just decide to burn down the world.  I'm nervous.  I'm so anxious that it's playing with my stomach.  I simultaneously cannot eat, and want to devour all the things (emotional eater.  Oh the fun that is).

I want this to be over, but not if Trump wins.

I need to keep up with the results, but even looking at them is petrifying.

The urge to bury my head in the sand is strong.  I just might.  If you're the same, here's some laughter to keep your mind of it for a couple of minutes.

I'm off to pretend that everything is fine and attempt a normal day.

Ciao!