I’m sure that you all know by now that Halloween is my favorite holiday. It’s like Christmas/New Year’s/Fourth of July/Every other holiday rolled into one. But this year, something was missing:
Trick or Treaters
The Halloween That Wasn’t
Reply
The Fight of Your Life
Everyone you know is in the fight of their life.
Everyone will lose.
All the more reason to fight.
Fight. Rage against the dying of the light. But most of all, fight with virtue. Fight to make the world better. Fight so that other peoples’ fights aren’t quite so hard. Let your struggle give another strength.
Doggos (and Cattos) Explained
Happy Saturday (even though I’m writing this on Friday)!
My friends know that I’m obsessed with DoggoSpeak, so they send me doggo memes all the time. Closer to the truth is that I’m obsessed with language and how it evolves (even from Doge to Doggo in just a year or two!), but that’s a post for another time. Cat talk like the now mostly forgotten can haz cheezburger also gets me thinking. I mean, why do cats and dogs have such horrible grammar and spelling skills? It does me a bamboozle.
A friend sent me a Youtube link today, and I went down down down down down the rabbit (doggo) hole. Feast your eyes on THESE!
BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!!
Someone did this with cats too!!! This whole post is like the doggo/catto dictionary. Take that, Mister Webster!
This shitpost has been brought to you by: Weird Obsessions, Pet Love, and Too Much Cawfee!
Good Morning Starshine…
So thanks to a friend of mine, I got that earworm stuck in my head. If you don’t know the song, here ya go. If you do, now it’s in YOUR HEAD! MMMUUUUUAHHHHH!!
But it gets worse. The ear worm spawned other larvae, dammit, the ENTIRE SOUNDTRACK FROM HAIR!! Well, actually just a couple of them. I’ll treat to you to this one.
I’m from a family of hippies, and this was a pretty influential soundtrack (though not on the level as Rocky Horror). I had long hair until my mid twenties, more than halfway down my back. I looked like an Allman Brother.
I kinda miss it.
Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair…sigh
Age 18…the hair got longer than this.
I’m still a hippie.
Writers Should Know Better
During a conversation with other writers yesterday, I became shocked, SHOCKED, at how many think that they are so good that they don’t need further study or guided practice. At how many choose beta readers for a pat on a back instead of real feedback. At writers that don’t revise. At writers that think that BOOK REVIEWERS don’t have useful critiques and are only good for marketing and promotion (I always take reviews to heart. Someone went through the trouble of pointing out strengths and weaknesses. I won’t disrespect them by ignoring it). At writers that don’t read. At the pure arrogance of thinking that you are at the height of your powers and don’t need to grow anymore. It’s the height of elitism.
Could you imagine a professional musician that doesn’t practice for hours a day? Can you imagine a doctor that doesn’t follow new breakthroughs in medicine. Can you imagine an athlete than doesn’t practice or go to the gym? Can you imagine any job where you don’t try to improve on it?
So Far Today
You Can Go Home Again
You can go home again, but sometimes the new owners have painted the house a different color, and they cut down your climbing tree to expand the driveway.
I Am the Rape Culture
If women are brave enough to post #metoo, I must have the courage to call myself out.
I am the problem
I am the rape culture.
I am the patriarchy.
I have breathed the invisible, foul air since birth until I no longer tasted the pollution.
I have enabled.
I have looked away.
I have put the onus on women to protect themselves with “self defense classes” and “pepper spray” instead of focusing on the rapists.
I have gaslighted.
I have crossed lines and rationalized it as romance.
I have whined about the “friend zone,” as if being nice to a woman entitled me to their affection.
I have physically beaten other men over women, as if they were a prize for the victor.
I have thought things that no man should, but every man does.
Worst of all, I have ignored female friends’ requests not to hang out with an assaulter, for fear that he would try again.
I have done all of these things, and though I was ignorant of the magnitude of what I was doing in many cases, that does not excuse me.
Change begins with awareness. Women should not have to talk about their assault to get people to understand how pervasive the rape culture is. If I am to help change, I must start with the things that I have done. I cannot erase them. I call on other men to have the courage to do the same.
Indie Authors’ Day Workshop
On Saturday I gave a lecture and workshop at Pine Plains Library, in upstate New York. This was my second straight year presenting for IAD. Instead of most presenters that I’ve seen, who give lectures on publishing and marketing, I focused on the actual craft. It doesn’t matter how great a writer you are, you can always be better (myself included), something so many writers forget. Being an author is a combination of narcissism and humility, and the second part is what helps you grow.
A general version of the lecture “The Hero’s Journey: It’s No Myth” is available on my website, but I was a teacher, and I’m best when I work out loud. I make jokes and obscure references. I bring props (usually toys). In this case, I brought tissue paper “plot points” and threw them back and forth with the crowd. I used a Snoopy Snow Cone Machine as a brainstorming prompt.
I miss teaching.
Holy Shnikes! A 99 Cent Book Sale!
Tomorrow is Indie Authors’ Day, and I am giving a presentation and workshop at a library upstate. To celebrate, I reduced the price of The Watchmage of Old New York to 99 cents! That’s 75% percent off! This is only for a few days, so if you like Historical Fantasy with complex characters, historical accuracy combined with a fantasy world woven into it, and a heavy dose of whimsy. You want this book.
Also, if you like my blog and want to support me, 99 cents is a good way to do so.
And if you’ve read it, please leave a review and tell your friends about it. Writers survive on your support alone.
casandersdotnet 