Keep It Simple, Sister

I don't always share my non-SFF stuff here, but I'm so pleased with how this cover turned out that I just had to. SHOOTING STAR is a contemporary romance, darker and edgier than my Missed Connections series. I'm really excited to see this one finally come out as I've been working on it for years. Releasing March 6!

Our topic this week at the SFF Seven is "How do you keep your story from being too complex?"

...and I don't know.

I mean, what is TOO complex? I'm thinking that sometimes there's too much story to fit into a single book, which is probably why my series tend to expand.

It can be a mistake of newbie writers to think a story needs MORE. I used to worry about that, especially with the first novel I wrote. I worried that the story didn't have ENOUGH. Enough of what, I'm not sure. But, that was before I understood that the actual details of the story are much less important than how the story is told. It's the author's voice we fall in love with. Details, while they may add to the atmosphere of the story, tend to be forgettable.

So I think it's key to keep in mind that simple is good. If we're feeling the impulse to add to the story, simply to add, that's almost certainly not necessary.

To Run or Not to Run

On my mind this week and the week past: Running for public office. I can't believe I said it out loud. I hate politics. Yeah, I see you laughing and nodding. We roll our eyes and say things like 'all politicians are liars/crooks/insert accusation du jour here'. It's sort of this decade's lawyer joke. Except that's not what I'm talking about when I say I hate politics. 

You know I'm an introvert. So when I say I loathe politics, I mean that the idea of going to meetings with people wasting time, breath, and money using too many words and hours in an attempt to manipulate me into doing what they want makes me want to stab icepicks in my ears. And maybe theirs. HATES it, my precious. 

I laugh nervously about my chances of even getting voted into anything resembling an office. I'm a Wiccan living in the south. That's a tough sell. And frankly, I'm kinda left of left. So I'd expect to get laughed right out of the polls. But eh. I've had my share of unkind rejection letters. Losing would frankly be a bit of a relief. And yet I still mull the idea of filing to run. 

Why would I entertain the thought of doing something like running for public office when I claim to hate the whole process?  ESPECIALLY the fund raising part? Because I've discovered there's something I hate even more.

Dead children. Specifically, needlessly dead children. I am sick to death of 'thoughts and prayers'. I am sick to my soul of a bunch of old guys in suits wringing their hands in front of the TV cameras only to back to jacking off the NRA in the back office with one hand and eviscerating healthcare that might treat disturbed, hurting children with the other. I'm done with them. It's clear that more and more parents in this country are also done with them.

So I don't know yet. I'm still noodling. Because it's something I *really* do not want to do. It wouldn't be a step out of my comfort zone. It would be a damned drop from orbit. In just a wing suit. Still. Were I to take that leap, it would be because James wrote an excellent position paper. And I feel like plenty of parents would resonate with a platform of:

No parent should have to drop a kid at school with the parting words: May the odds be ever in your favor.

On My Mind: Building Community

So, this past weekend I was at Boskone, and it was a wonderful time, as I was reminded what an amazing community we have in SF/Fantasy Literature.  There are some amazing people in this business, who are filled with wisdom and warmth and kindness.   I had the great fortune of sharing the signing table with Mary Robinette Kowal, who all of these attributes in abundance.  We, as a community, are blessed to have her in it.

Sadly, this past week, I've also been reminded that we have a way to go, and there are some people who thrive in being terrible, and making things unpleasant for those around them.  And that behavior, sadly, gets them notoriety.  They get talked about, which serves their ends.  I won't give them the time of day.

Because the people who are wonderful, who do great work and are good people-- they're the ones who deserve notoriety.  They're the ones who should get notice and have their names mentioned over and over.  So here is a large list of great people who deserve your attention.
First off, some of the people who I have been personally connected to, who have been a wonderful part of my local community: Stina Leicht, who wrote Cold Iron and Black Thorne and the upcoming Persephone Station, and gave back to the community for years by running the ArmadilloCon Writers Workshop before passing it to me.  Rebecca Schwarz, who is running it now.  Amanda Downum, author of The Necromancer Chronicles.  Patrice Sarath, author of Gordath Wood and the upcoming The Sisters Mederos.  Ari Marmell, who writes the Mick Oberon and Widdershin books.  Nicky Drayden, who had her fantastic debut last year, The Prey of the Gods.  Chris Brown, who wrote Tropic of Kansas and is one of the nicest guys you'll meet. Alex C. Wrenick, who writes shorts and poems, also as Camille Alexa.  BookTuber Extraordinaire Thomas Wagner.

Also, my fabulous compatriots on SFFSeven: Jeffe Kennedy, James A. Moore (who wrapped me in a great big bear hug this weekend), K.A. Krantz, Marcella Burnard, Veronica Scott and our newest member, Vivian Jackson!  Vivian was a student of the aforementioned ArmadilloCon Workshop, making her another great success story from that program!

Friends, I'm not even scratching the surface.  There are so many more: Caroline Yoachim. Fonda Lee. Annie Bellet. Elizabeth Bear-- someone who treated me like a peer well before I earned it.  Courtney Schafer.  T. Frohock. ML Brennan. Spencer Ellsworth. Jaym Gates. Laura M. Hughes. Sarah Chorn. Foz Meadows. Melanie R. Meadors.  Mike Underwood. PAUL WEIMER, possibly one of the nicest people in this business.

I could go on and on, because we have so many amazing people in this business.  Who else do you think deserves some praise?

A distractible mind thinks all the things and also, Hello!

I wake up very morning and read the news. So, um, there are a gazillion things on my mind this week, and I want to talk about approximately none of them. (Am fuming about some stuff, especially the stuff that also makes me sad.)

However, the one very satisfying thing about having a distractible brain is that I can switch topics with whiplash-inducing speed. Here goes:

1.  I’m here. On this excellent and admirable blog. Writing my words alongside some truly talented folks who have kindly let me come in here and play. For a gal who grew up binge-reading SFF and later decided, hey, maybe some other readers wondered about all those kissing scenes that we knew were going on but never quite made it to the page, and who then decided to squash the SFF and the kissing into one giant moshdoodle of steamy smooching cyborgs on space stations, well… this is a dream come true. I can’t wait to meet everybody.

2. Last weekend, I met aliens. Well, I went to Marfa, Texas, and saw the legendary mystery lights in the sky there. Does that count as a close encounter? I know, I know, I read about the UT Dallas undergrads who “proved” it was all atmospherics reflecting car headlights or somesuchcrud, but I Want ToBelieve. (Yes, even now, Fox Mulder. I know you got kind of old and uninteresting, but hey, I did, too. Don’t sulk. Have a sunflower seed.) At any rate, there is magic out in the mountains and in the desert. You can feel it. Also, the lights look exactly like the running lights on an alien mothership. And they change colors, so...disco aliens?

3. I’m reading more than writing at the moment. For folks who don’t know, the first two books in my Tether science fiction romance series – Wanted and Wired and Perfect Gravity – released in 2017. I love them like paper wubbies. The third one is in “what in the world do you put on the cover a book featuring a body-hopping AI who thinks she might be a girl, and yikes we have to title this beastie too” limbo. I’ve started on a new project, but it’s so new it mewls and I probably shouldn’t say more than that. However, the judging deadline for the Romance Writers of America RITA awards is coming up way too soon, so I’m spending most of my time reading books and wondering how I ever managed to write one (or three) of these things and whether that miracle is repeatable.

Okay, there’s more. I’ve also been thinking way too much about risk-taking (in the context of Girl Scouts, corporate fail-fast culture, and Adam Rippon); girl-power rock ‘n’ roll, esp. The Runaways and The Dollyrots; what a Regency duke actually did all day, other than hanging out in his club with his mates and drinking boozy things and sometimes going to balls; and Elon Musk’s hot little interplanetary car.

I’m happy to talk about any of the above. And thanks for the warm welcome, y'all.

On My Mind This Week: Dogs

Huzzah! It's the Year of the Dog! Huzzah! 

For a dog-lover like me, it's a good sign. Except...well, last year I had to say goodbye to my beloved husky. He was 15, a rescue who'd put up with me and my weird for 14 of those years. He'd started life as the hot-potato dog, bouncing through four homes before landing in mine. He settled in rather quickly, leaving us birds in our slippers. In the inimical opinion of my Samoyed who'd joined the family first, the husky was...tolerable. He enjoyed long walks but was afraid of sewer covers, puddles, and thunderstorms. He routinely dug up moles then tried to convince the poor traumatized things to be his playmates (they declined as politely possible). Whenever I was on the phone, he would include himself in the conversations. He would never steal food off the table (not even the coffee table), but he would sneak it out of your hand if you happened to be distracted. He loved people. A guard dog, he was not.

Eventually, time does what it inevitably must. Not since grad school have I been without a four-footed companion. (I assure you, that's longer ago than I want to consider.) I've completed the painful parts of grieving and progressed to happy memories. For some months now, I've auditioned this strange freedom from responsibility for another life and have come to the conclusion that being dogless is no fun.

There are millions of dogs in need of homes. Their great big eyes and pleading expressions pulling at all the heartstrings. Oh aye, adoption is an option. Especially when you're looking for a dog who's aged out of his puppy years.

I came close to bringing home a big floof who'd been abandoned at the start of the winter holidays, but, darn it, I showed up at the shelter mere minutes too late. However, when a pup lands in a happy furever home, I'm happy...even if the home isn't with me.

My second attempt was a huge adoption event put on by area shelters and rescues. We're talking hundreds of dogs. Thousands of people showed up. Over 800 animals joined new families. Alas, mine was not one of them. Seeing the joy on faces young and old as they received kisses of gratitude from their new pets? Priceless.

Oh, but then, but then I found a breed-specific rescue one state over that has multiple blue-eyed shedders in need. Yes, yes, I promptly submitted my application. Yes, yes, it takes time for volunteers to vet applicants. Yes, rescue leagues are far more particular than shelters.

Now I wait...

Dear reader, I finally discovered the one thing that'll make me refresh my inbox more often than queries and submissions--rescue application approval. 

So that is why dogs are on my mind this week.

Can we PLEASE seriously consider a few sensible gun restrictions?

I do not ask that guns be outlawed. I ask that they be regulated properly to better insure that those who are mentally ill, those with a history of domestic violence, and those who are untrained do not have access to weapons capable of slaughtering 17 students and teachers in a matter of minutes. 

I understand that the right to bear arms for a well regulated militia exists, but if we can modify the right to freedom of speech (as has been done repeatedly on the FIRST AMENDMENT) then we can do so for the SECOND AMENDMENT as well. No one walking the streets in the United States needs bump stocks. No one living in an urban area or any suburban or rural area needs the capacity to fire 30 rounds or more per minute.

Requiring that people with firearms be insured is not an infringement of anyone's rights, any more than automobile insurance is an infringement. requiring that anyone who wants to have a firearm have proper training is not an infringement. Requiring that people buy their weapons (or transfer the ownership through proper channels) is not an infringement. THESE ARE SIMPLE, COMMON SENSE SOLUTIONS.

Requiring that ammunition be sold in stores rather than online is not an infringement. TAXING AMMUNITION THE SAME WE WE TAX CIGARETTES (any tobacco related products) OR ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES IS NOT AN INFRINGEMENT AND COULD BE USED TO BETETR SECURE OUR SCHOOLS AGAINST WOULD BE MURDERERS.

LASTLY, THE NRA CAN GO SUCK ITSELF FOR DOING EVERYTHING IT CAN TO BLOCK ANY COMMON SENSE ADJUSTMENTS TO THE ALWS AND REGULATIONS THAT SHOULD EXIST IN THIS COUNTRY.

Part of this has been posted before. I'm posting HERE for the first time. 

Dear Joe The Plumber: F___ Your Rights.

And, up on the soap box again.

I have said before and I will likely say many more times that I absolutely believe in the Second Amendment. I also believe in the First Amendment, which allows for free speech and permits you to be a narcissistic ass by making your statement about your rights to the grieving parents of youths murdered by a mentally unstable and deluded brat before he killed himself with the same firearm he used in a shooting spree.

I firmly believe in the Second Amendment and I believe, as I have already said, in the First Amendment. But you know what? I believe the interpretation might be a bit generous. There are occasions where the First Amendment has exceptions:

Incitement: Want to start a riot with your words? That's a no-no.

False Statement of Fact: That means the vast majority of politicians and most of the reporters for Fox News should all get their mouths washed out with soap. 

Obscenity: That means I censored a certain four letter word in my header. It's considered "obscene" by a lot of people. 

Child Pornography: Means some people are sick and should be locked away from children for all eternity (And just possibly used as targets at the local gun range, but some people might think that last bit is a wee bit extreme.).

Fighting Words and Offensive Speech: Remember "Incitement" up above? This is just another way of reminding us that picking fights with your words, even on a personal scale, is not legally protected. 

Threats: With the exception of situations that are obviously hyperbole like "Imma punch you so hard you go into orbit." Threats are not taken lightly and are not protected by the Bill of Rights. In fact in Georgia, if you threaten to kick someone's posterior, it's technically a "terroristic threat" and a felony. I don't know how that breaks down in the rest of the country. See, I'm a writer, not a lawyer or a plumber, so I might not understand all the shades of gray out there. 

Speech Owned By Others: Note how I'm not even quoting you here. Your words are yours. They might be disgusting, self-indulgent fecal matter that express how deeply important it is for you to own penis substitutes to newly grieving parents, but they are still yours. 

Commercial Speech: Truth in advertising. Lie enough and you could get in trouble again, especially if you are doing it to sell product. 

Governmental Control Issues:

Government as Employer, Government as Regulator of the Airwaves,  Government as  Educator, Government as Subsidizer/Speaker,  Government as Regulator of the Bar, Government as Controller of the Military, Government as Prison Warden,  Government as  regulator of Immigration.  

Those are all exceptions to the First Amendment, an Amendment that I hold near and dear to my heart. 

Now, let's look at The Second Amendment, shall we? 

Here it is: 

"A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed." 

Know what that means? Of course you do. 

Here's one for you, Joe: What about MY Right not to get shot? 

That would fall under the Ninth Amendment: 

The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

Your right to bear arms does not override my right to not get shot by a lunatic who had easy access to a weapon. 

Additionally the United States Declaration of Independence says we have three unalienable rights including "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

All of which is to say that I DO respect the Second Amendment. I also believe that if changes and justifications can be made to the First Amendment, they can and should be made to the Second Amendment as well and that those qualifiers and changes in no way, shape or form prevent you from defending your home. 

I firmly believe that proper screening, proper safety regulations and proper educations should all be required before anyone in this country is allowed to carry a loaded weapon outside of their own home or, frankly, inside of their home. (Just yesterday another toddler killed a younger sibling because the parent or parents were too careless or stupid to know not to leave loaded weapons where a toddler could get to it. I feel for the parents. I do. I also believe the owner of that weapon should be stripped of the privilege of owning a weapon and very possibly prosecuted for manslaughter. 

I also tend to think that since we have a very powerful military (possibly the greatest in the world, though I expect that's up to debate with some other countries) we could maybe acknowledge that we've got that militia part covered, but that's just me. 

And so on a side note, because I can and I have the right, I think you’re a moron and a loser and while I respect your rights, your lack of common decency regarding the grief that several families are enduring lowers my respect for you, low as it might have been.

And, off the soap box again.

Don't agree? Fire away. Please feel free to use logical reasons why these are not good ideas.

#MeToo

The ever-efficient KAK already grabbed this cover for the sidebar, but I thought I'd officially share here. THE SNOWS OF WINDROVEN, originally in the holiday anthology AMID THE WINTER SNOW, will be out March 12! If you didn't grab the anthology - or if you did, but want the standalone, too - you can preorder now. It's the same story, either way - the continuation of Amy and Ash's rocky romance in THE TEARS OF THE ROSE, and fitting in the timeline between THE EDGE OF THE BLADE and THE SHIFT OF THE TIDE.

This week at the SFF Seven is a topic of our choice - whatever is on our minds. So, I've decided to tell a story I haven't publicly told before. There's been a lot of conversation in publishing this last month about sexual harassment in the industry, largely springing from this article in the School Library Journal and the followup survey by Anne Ursu.

I spent some time yesterday catching up on the source materials - though I'd been reading lots of the ensuing conversations and fallout. Which included reading the comments, something I normally protect myself from but felt I should survey this time.

In talking with a friend about it, I said something about a parallel of when it happened to me. She immediately replied that she had no idea it happened to me.

Of course she didn't, because I never went public. There were good reasons for that, which I'll share.

It happened to me at a convention, only a few years ago. I was already an established author, with awards and a good record, bright future. My agent parked me with a male editor we hoped to dazzle. We were in the bar, with a bunch of people, drinking. And he started touching me. Knee, thigh, arm. And he wanted to talk about my writing! Oh, but he *really* wanted to know about the erotic stuff. By the third time he asked about my erotic writing, while touching my bare knee yet again, I became profoundly uncomfortable.

And I didn't know what to do.

For those of you who know me, that's pretty unusual. I'm not a shy person. In fact, "confident" is a word people often pick first to describe me. I have good boundaries and I'm firm and decisive in guarding them. I am not shy or at all hesitant to speak my mind.

But, sitting there in that bar, surrounded by people I knew - none of whom noticed anything - I felt suddenly powerless. Because this guy could influence my career. My agent wanted me to please this editor, not piss him off - though my agent had disappeared and was nowhere in sight.

For the first time in my entire life - at a fairly ripe middle age - I understood how this kind of thing happens.

I got up to go to the Ladies Room. On my way back I whispered in the ear of a female agent friend. I simply told her I needed to be extracted. Thirty seconds after I sat down, she got up, swept over and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry to interrupt your meeting, Jeffe, but I just found out [important person] is unexpectedly free - can you come meet her?"

And that was that.

I wanted to leave it at that, but my agent argued with me to report it, at least to the editor's boss. My agent offered to handle it and I accepted. The boss was livid, spoke to the editor. Days later the editor offered an apology via my agent, along with the news that he was on performance improvement and would no longer be drinking at conferences.

That satisfied me. I was ultimately glad we handled it that way, because - as my agent argued and convinced me - other female writers in that position would not necessarily have an agent friend nearby to rescue her. Or might not have the same confidence in her writing and career. It was important that I take action, not for myself, but so it wouldn't happen to someone else.

Because that's something I see a lot. Many guys who get pointed at are shocked that anyone saw them that way. Myke Cole was pointed to in the comments of that SLJ article and took a long, hard look at his behavior. I respect him for posting about it and taking decisive action to correct himself. I like to think that editor did, too.

This is why #metoo is important - because we have to bring these behaviors into the open, or they won't change. In reading those comments, I see a lot of people casting accusations of lying or attention-grabbing. I didn't go public with what happened to me because I didn't want to be that year's scandal at the conference. The conference organizers never knew, because we handled another way.

That's fine, because I had the personal power to handle it, and the strong backing of my agency. Not everyone has that. Not everyone has agent friends who happen to be sitting nearby and who can respond without question with such grace and effectiveness.

(That, by the way, is why I argue that harassment policies should include a provision for reporting to an industry friend to intervene. Firmly telling the person to stop never felt like an option for me, because of the power imbalance. Which is why it happened in the first place.)

One thing I'm leaving out is how shaken I felt at the time. With the buffer of years, I'm no longer bothered. But at the time, I wondered at how badly I'd handled that. I really felt I should have been able to tell him to knock it off. It was very instructive for me to be more compassionate when others tell their stories about feeling powerless in a situation.

I also thinks this speaks to the power of networks, friendships, and collegiality. We can all watch out for each other. And if you ever need to be extracted, just whisper in my ear.

Backlist Love For Wreck of the Nebula Dream 'Titanic in Space'

My first two books were published six years ago, in January 2012 (Priestess of the Nile from Carina Press, a Harlequin imprint) and Wreck of the Nebula Dream in March 2012, self-published. I decided for this post, since we're midway between the two, to feature Wreck today, partly because scifi romance and self-publishing have been my primary career path since that time. Although I did meet Jeffe as a direct result of having been published by Carina…and she introduced me to Marcella…and here I am on SFF7 (although that development happened a bit later.)!

I enjoyed writing about the Nebula Dream so much (although I destroyed her) that I’ve since written several books set on a more fortunate interstellar spaceliner, the Nebula Zephyr.

Here's the background of Why I Wrote Wreck. (Portions of this post first appeared on Pauline B. Jones' blog.):

Since I was a little girl, I’ve always been fascinated by stories set during a disaster – the events, how could the characters have known or sensed what was about to happen, what do they do, what could they have done, what would I do…Growing up in Upstate New York, the closest I personally got to disaster as a child was probably digging unreinforced snow forts!

But, the family legend is that my maternal grandfather had a cousin who survived the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. (I’ve since decided after a lot of searching around on the internet that she was probably not a relative, despite the unusual last name.) And as a result, I was thoroughly intrigued with that disaster in particular. I think after I’d seen the 1950’s movies about the sinking – “A Night to Remember,” which goes pretty much straight from the nonfiction book of the same name, and “Titanic,” a sudsy tragedy with Barbara Stanwyck – I was thoroughly hooked. (Saw them on late night TV folks, not in the 1950’s theaters LOL.). I devoured any account of the sinking. I read books and sought out movies about other disasters as well, both natural and manmade, like Pompeii and the Sepoy Rebellion and Apollo 13…

But Titanic is the epitome of disaster. Premonitions. Too much speed  on a clear night. Too much trust in the unsinkable technology. So many people, too few lifeboats.  The wireless operators staying at their posts, talking to the world on the internet of its time, Marconi wireless, yet no one could help. The Carpathia driving through the Atlantic, knowing they’d arrive too late. The Californian ten miles away, able to save everyone, yet unaware of the tragedy.  The musicians playing. The brave officers.  The lovers separated. Or staying on board together to drown.  The popular captain who’d never actually been in a sinking situation. The corporate executive who steps off the sinking ship into the last lifeboat and spends the rest of his life reviled. The steerage passengers, kept below too long. The rich, the famous, the children… I mean, the dramatic elements go on and on, yet it was all very real, and extremely sad.

Now I’m a writer obviously and I’ve done so much research into Titanic over the years, you might expect me to have written a novel set on that ship. Well, but for two things. First of all, I feel Titanic is complete. Not to say I won’t keep reading books about it and watching movies and TV mini series set aboard the ship, but as a novelist, it feels done. My Muse isn’t inspired to go there. Which leads me to the second point – my Muse likes to write science fiction adventure/romance, with Special Forces operators and smart, gutsy women, in dangerous situations. So it was probably inevitable that all that Titanic inspiration would turn into the catastrophe that strikes my Nebula Dream in the far future. I just had to figure out why my military hero would be traveling on such a ship. Once I knew that answer, I was off to write.

I looked to the events of Titanic for inspiration, not to do a literal retelling out in interstellar space. My plot includes science fictional things that would never happen in the cold North Atlantic. (No spoilers here!) But I also deliberately included two children among the small party trying to survive – Paolo and Gianna, who for me symbolized the many children who sadly perished on Titanic. There are some other subtle nods to the events of Titanic and a few outright similarities – the Nebula Dream is the newest, most advanced cruise liner of her time, with new engine technology, her captain and the company’s representative out to make a speed record at all costs…until….well, that would be  the story, now wouldn’t it?

The blurb: Traveling unexpectedly aboard the luxury liner Nebula Dream on its maiden voyage across the galaxy, space marine Captain Nick Jameson is ready for ten relaxing days, and hoping to forget his last disastrous mission behind enemy lines. He figures he’ll gamble at the casino, take in the shows, maybe even have a shipboard fling with Mara Lyrae, the beautiful but reserved businesswoman he meets.

All his plans vaporize when the ship suffers a wreck of Titanic proportions. Captain and crew abandon ship, leaving the 8000 passengers stranded without enough lifeboats and drifting unarmed in enemy territory. Aided by Mara, Nick must find a way off the doomed ship for himself and several other innocent people before deadly enemy forces reach them or the ship’s malfunctioning engines finish ticking down to self destruction.

But can Nick conquer the demons from his past that tell him he’ll fail these innocent people just as he failed to save his Special Forces team? Will he outpace his own doubts to win this vital race against time?

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