I do want to say thank you to those who wrote so kindly and supportively of my last entry. Don't worry -- that incident occurred over five years ago; I'm fine these days. Thank you for asking.
Shall I start with the controversial or the validating? I don't know where to begin. I suppose the beginning -- why am I interested in this? Why do I feel so strongly about it?
It is relevant, because if I had not been raped, I would run the risk of having people accuse me of not knowing whereof I speak. And in fact, I'm not so sure that having been through it really 'qualifies' me to speak in that sense. The experience can be so different, so individual. I learned that from the accounts of friends who have been raped, from the year I worked as a crisis counselor, listening to people who had been assaulted in their homes and on the street. I've talked to people who have committed rape, and people who have considered committing it. I *cannot* claim to speak for any of these people. Yet if my admission/exposure (and both of those terms sound so biased in themselves) will be of any help in persuading you to listen to my words a little longer, then they are worth saying. So there it is. I have been raped.
This is an important subject, because rape can have such a profound effect on both victim and perpetrator. This is an important discussion, because it is one that is so rarely held.
I think our society is afraid to really talk about rape, to react in other than knee-jerk, good-liberal ways. I am a good liberal, you know. A very good liberal, as bleeding-heart as they come. But that doesn't mean that I can stop talking about things, or assume that they're settled and the answers are clear. When I do, I'm usually being intellectually lazy. Either that or too upset or scared to face the issues.
Why would I want to write about rape in fiction? Well, that's an easy one, right? It's a complex and important subject, and I think it deserves to be treated with complexity and seriousness, as we attempt to find the truth(s) of the situation(s). Art can be a sharp lens for discovering truth, or facets of truth. The discussion of rape deserves that critical look. It is a fascinating study, the way a study of a mass murderer is fascinating. It can also be repulsive, disgusting, infuriating, or pitiful. It's still worth doing, in my opinion, because it exposes part of humanity.
Why would I want to write about the erotic aspects of rape? Ah, here we're on trickier ground. I imagine most of you were with me until now; that many of you were nodding your heads. And now some turn away, some are repulsed or upset -- and I don't blame you. Rape is always a brutal act; rape is always violent, in an emotional sense or otherwise. It is difficult for a healthy, sane person to imagine a conjunction of eroticism with nonconsensual violence -- and I'm glad of that.
Yet rape is not always simple brutality, and I'm asking you to look closer at what it can be composed of. An ugly study, I know, but again, one I think is important.
Let us take the simplest case, one of an assailant who is simply violent, and uses rape to express that violence. The victim is a stranger to him or her, and there are no other emotional complexities between them. One would think, in this situation, that the victim's only responses would be negative -- would be anger, or fear, or numbness, or withdrawal, or despair, etc. These are all common responses. Yet I will tell you, from my work and my research on this subject, that arousal is also a common response. And this causes no end of grief.
Such a victim, brutalized, battered, almost killed, still has a body trained to respond sexually. And whatever one's mind is doing, the body's impulses continue. Victims of violent assault do sometimes find themselves responding to their assailants sexually, becoming aroused. This is well-documented. The typical response is one of guilt and/or denial. The victim feels doubly betrayed -- by the society/stranger, and by his/her own body. This can cause a horrible spiraling downwards of despair, especially if they feel they can't admit this response to anyone, if they feel that it must be something wrong with them. It even makes it hard to admit that one was raped -- the faulty reasoning goes, "If I was aroused, then I liked it, then I must have wanted it, then it wasn't rape." Which is of course fallacious, since the response was involuntary, yet it can be a very powerful and painful cycle to go through. We (especially women) often have a strong tendency to take all the blame on ourselves.
Why would I want to write about this? Because it's very human. Because I want to communicate that this happens, so people don't feel alone. Because it makes me sad. Because I feel such empathy for these people, and I want others to understand their situation. I wrote a short story on this theme, "Mint in your Throat." Rather than try to sell it, I will append it here, and let you judge my handling of the situation (a true situation, as it happens, though not my own) for yourself.
As we move towards the date rape end of the spectrum, the situation becomes even more complex. The victim knows the assailant. The icons of consent become more liable to be misinterpreted (which does not excuse the assailant, but may explain their actions, or the victim's assumption of responsibility). The victim may love the assailant. The assailant may love the victim. I wrote a rape story in "Chantelle". Again, you can judge for yourself whether it was an effective/useful/true handling. And again, the same reasons apply for wanting to write about it.
Writing about it as erotica? Well, that's not ever really been what I wanted. I don't want to eroticize a situation that isn't already erotic. I do want to expose and examine the erotic elements of such a situation, and how they affect the mental states of the victim and the assailant, both before, during and after the event. My purpose is not really to arouse, although if you become aroused in reading such a piece, then perhaps you will be able to empathize, to understand a little more the complexity of what actually goes on.
This may be too upsetting for some readers. I don't watch horror movies myself, and rarely read horror fiction because it gives me nightmares. "Schindler's List" gave me the shakes. I don't want to understand a mass murderer's mind. It is deeply upsetting. Yet is that a reason for an artist to shy away?
Many great works of literature attempt to give us insight into the minds of both villains and victims (and show us how blurred those categories really are). That is part of the power and strength of art, that it deals with the difficult, the upsetting, the dark side of human nature as well as the bright. Not to glorify it, but to perceive it. Perhaps so that in perceiving, we may begin to heal it.
I dreamed I was at a big dinner with Guy Gavriel Kay. We were meeting L.M. Montgomery later. (Why those two together? I think they may both be Canadian...ask my subconscious). I was so tongue-tied.
I'm sorry, I'm babbling. Woke up rather mopey around 5ish, talked to Roshani for a while which didn't help, though it should have, and then finished this round of revisions on "Johnny's Story" and "Minh-Ha's Story", which did help some. I still have about an hour and a half of work time, and I'd really like to write something new, but feeling a bit uninspired. Maybe I'll go back to reading _Macho Sluts_.
That's by Pat Califia. She's amazing, though rather hard-core, I warn you. Lesbian (primarily) S/M erotica. One of the stories frustrated me, in a way that I don't know what to do about. It's called "Surprise Party", I think. Not to tell you the story, but basic premise is that woman gets abducted by cops who can tell that she's into S/M and submissive and one of them plays head games with her. All this very engaging, non-consensual material, and of course it comes out at the end that this was a friend of hers and it was all a scene. Which frustrates me, because we're in her head all the way through, and she's scared, and we're being asked to buy that this is real tension. I did something like that in "Chantal", but I did have the situation actually get out of control before the protagonist got scared. I guess I'm a little tired of the whole series of nonconsensual stories in which it turns out to be a set-up. In our current atmosphere of not producing any material that looks like it could even a little be like rape, or advocating rape, that's inevitable, but it takes some of the challenge out of a story. I think the emotional dynamics in a real rape situation are fascinating. I think stories are one of the places to examine evil and its effects. Somehow when we link it to eroticism, that makes it non-PC and no one will publish it. I wonder what Pat would do if she didn't have publishing constraints to worry about. If I wrote a kidnap/ransom story, and wrote about the sympathy that a victim grew to feel for her kidnappers, even the love she felt, I could probably get away with it. That happens, and it's interesting. If it were a mainstream story, I could perhaps even get away with having a sexual component, and it might be regarded as a ground-breaking, frightening story. Yet if it's explicitly labelled erotica, that sort of exploration is automatically taboo, because suddenly I'm the wicked proponent of rape. Argh! It's fiction. FICTION! It does not cause rape. Does Friday the Thirteenth cause serial killers?
Okay, off my soapbox. This whole issue just frustrates the heck out of me. I'm going to try to go back to work.
8:15. Wrote a new piece, "Steve's Story". (I know, the titles lately have been dull, but in the context of the book, I think they'll work better that way.) Sent off to first readers list. Happy with it (even though I stole the idea of it from someone else (whose story I hadn't read). Ah well -- nothing new under the sun, right?
I'm feeling *much* more cheerful. :-)
Writer's Harvest, the benefit to raise money for local food banks. went splendidly. Last I heard, we'd raised over $4000 through corporate donations and direct ticket sales, at a reading featuring Ishmael Reed and Anne Lamott. The house was packed, the donated food was devoured, I was on duty for about eight hours from set-up (fairly light) through event (insanely busy) to clean-up (not too bad with lots of help). This was Thursday, and it exhausted me. Didn't really recover until Saturday.
Friday went slow; just tutoring and music class and Sherman coming over and a bunch of us hanging out in front of the fire in the evening and drinking wine and chatting. I am such a lightweight. Two glasses is pretty much the most I can handle. It was a pleasant evening; Ian's sister Julie and her partner D.J. are staying with us right now (it's so nice having a guest room), so they were there, me, Sherman, Ian, Heather, Aaron and Shannon (who were having a little tiff (or perhaps a spat. Definitely not a lover's quarrel; such a condescending term)). Toddled off to bed after and slept like proverbial log.
In the morning, breakfast with Sherman at the charming diner down the road (Cafe of the Bay) over comics. Pleasant. Then back home, wrote a poem for Paul of which more later, then Sherman dropped me off at Thida's for roundsing.
That's getting together and singing rounds. Like Row, Row, Row Your Boat, only a little more complicated. Jed organized it, provided munchies and led us through some surprisingly lovely harmonies. By leaning real close to a strong singer and trying to listen just to her, I think I managed to hold my own. If not, they were too kind to tell me. Four hours of singing, I think; throat was very tired by the end. I've picked up a cough, too. Dinner at nice Italian Restaurant which let us color on the tables (well, encouraged us), so we played hangman. Is 'aubade' a fair hangman word? How about 'syzygy'? Then back to Thida's, so she could finish her poem and dress for Paul's wake.
This is the harder part to write.
Paul left behind a wealth of family. A son, Ian, by Diana Paxson. A daughter, Astrid, by a woman named Nancy. I believe another daughter, though I'm not sure. Grandchildren, from Ian and Ian's wife, Elizabeth. A sister, Marion Zimmer Bradley. Many friends who were close as family.
I was not one of those friends. I only met Paul in January of this year, at the infamous Greyhaven (their home) New Year's bash. I can't eulogize him properly, but I can tell you a little about what I knew of him.
He was a scholar. First and foremost, that's what impressed me about him. Paul knew his Indian history backwards and forewards (far more than I do), and knew his Norse history even better. Words I can't pronounce, names of gods and heroes and battles rolled off his tongue, often declaimed in the best old style. Paul had a voice that could have filled one of those old Norse halls (despite the constant smoking that probably contributed to his death), and did not hesitate to use it. I wish I had his gift for delivery.
He was kind. I was very nervous even entering Greyhaven. To meet Diana Paxson, whose books I had loved as a child and still re-read from time to time (Brisingamen is one of my favorites). To meet Paul, who I knew only as Marion Zimmer Bradley's brother (Marion the creator of Darkover, and the Free Amazons, editor of Sword and Sorceress anthologies, etc. and so on for quite a long time). I'm so glad I got to know Paul in his own right, rather than just as Marion's little brother. When he first saw me at Greyhaven, in a sari, dressed up for the New Year, his eyes lit up. He had a soft spot for the Asian subcontinent, and genially escorted me around the room, even, at one point, introducing me to Diana (also exceedingly kind, as it turned out). Together the two of them encouraged me in my writing, invited me to local SFWA (Science Fiction Writers of America) meetings, even though I'm not yet qualified as a member, and were generally very sweet to me. When I was trying to decide whether to take the Clarion plunge, they advised me. He was a good friend to me, in that little time, and would clearly have grown to be a better one as we got to know each other better.
Paul was also reknowned for his lovers. At 54, he had not slowed down at all, and I must admit that I first thought him a bit of a lech. Yet he took rejection like a gentleman, and treated me as a friend ever after. That's an attitude I can respect. At the wake, one of the women who'd been propositioned by him said that even though she'd declined, it was one of the loveliest propositions she'd ever received. I believe that. Hail Paul!
What he was first and foremost, though, was a writer. Go read his books. They're bleak, and a bit frightening. They're heavy on war scenes, which I must admit to skimming. They're not brilliant, yet they have a certain knack for characterization, for unusual situations and unexpected plot twists, for making the difficult choices. The end of his second book, King Chondos's Ride, makes you put it down, hollering for the next chapter, saying, "That can't be the end!". Yet it is, and it's right, and this will make no sense to you unless you read them. I went to a publication party at Greyhaven shortly before his death. One of his stories had just been accepted for an anthology, "Elf Fantastic", I believe. It would certainly not have been the last to be published, and I'm very sorry that I will never read what Paul would have done with the next twenty-thirty years of writing.
I crashed the night at Greyhaven after that publication party, and woke at five to find Paul still up, working on the invitation list for the New Year's party, trying to trim it down a little (they regularly have over a thousand people arrive, even when only 200-400 are invited. The house is big, but not that big). We talked for a few hours, until Nancy woke and the kids were stirring. I don't remember the specifics, but likely we talked about projects we were working on, about Indian history, about books he thought I should read, about the perils of publishing, about friends and family. It was really the only time I got to sit down alone with him and talk. I'm very glad I had that time, but it wasn't enough. The overwhelming cry at the wake (which was as fine a tribute as any man could wish, with the main room packed and friends stacked in the hallways) -- "It wasn't long enough."
Others tell me he was a warrior as well. I cannot speak to that, yet with his booming voice, his ever-present kilt (regimental), and his amazing presence, I can believe it. Paul was larger than life; rest in peace would be a phrase entirely inappropriate for him. If there's a life after death, whether it be reincarnation, Valhalla or something entirely different, I think I can guarantee you that Paul will not be resting. He'll be chasing the women, shouting poetry at the top of his lungs. Warrior, lover, scholar, bard. I want to do so much. I miss him more than I'd expected. I still find it hard to believe he's gone.
I enclose below the poem I wrote for his wake.
Friends and strangers gathered round, to hear the tale
so stoutly sung, a tale of hearts so torn and wrung,
of weeping women's wail, of sundry melancholy parts
all wove together in a gleaming battle-shroud.
Or perhaps a sprightly tale; he told those too, and see --
the children laugh at dragon's antics, cheer the hero
who can command grim death to flee, cheer the maid
who has no fear of what lays beyond the lee, but strides forth...
They have no fear, these warriors of days long past;
they know what lasts, beyond the grave, beyond the tear.
So much more than life, oh, save your tears for lesser folk;
this bier is but a passing thing, a momentary strife,
and after, who can say? Yet surely something wondrous
does await, beyond that gate, and shall we weigh our hero down,
with calls and lamentations? Nay, let us rejoice instead,
and send him forth with all our hope, a brave panoply
to clothe his sturdy bones. For he was surely more
than a simple chronicler of the tale; his breath was too large,
for his frail body to enclose. Mix in this grief some mirth.
Despite his human failings, he was more than just a man;
through him deeper music sang,
and for a little while,
a giant once more walked this earth.
*****
for Paul Edwin Zimmer
So, with the help of my colleagues' advice in the Erotica Workshop (oh, I am *so* glad I started that. The resource it's proving to be!), I've decided how to handle some of this decision-making process on the anthology. I'm sending rejections immediately, and holding everything else until deadline (1/1/98). I *wish* I could tell people sooner, or at least tell them how close they are, but since I'm not sure of that myself, it seems best to just wait. The provisional accept list is short, the reject list is short, the maybe list is huge. People are sending me good stuff! Even the rejected stories are competent enough that they could be published elsewhere (at least so far); they just aren't what I'm looking for. Not enough characterization and/or style, generally. I find that I hate sending out rejections. I wonder if I'm cut out to be an editor -- the last rejection I sent this morning was three paragraphs long. I am loving reading these stories, though.
In other news, I wrote another story yesterday. Yeeha! (is that how you spell that?) I think I'm on a roll; "Minh-Ha's Story" was sent out to the list of first readers this morning.
I want to talk to you guys about this book, about my ideas for it, the shape and form of it, etc. But I feel like I'll jinx it if I talk about it too much, especially if I do so in print, fixed-form media. Superstitious nonsense, no doubt, but hopefully y'all will bear with me for a while longer. One request -- if any of you are either of Vietnamese or Appalachian heritage, could you let me konw? I'll like you to do voice/character checks.
Okay, enough babbling. Off to work, my darlings. My tea is finished, my space heater is off.
I overslept a bit today, I think because it's so grungy outside. I used to be able to rely on my internal clock, but I think I may have to invest in an alarm clock. I have a lot of work I want to get done (I've set deadlines for myself: Get Richard 1/3 of my book by 12/1; finish bulk of thesis over Christmas; get Richard the manuscript for the anthology by 2/1/98; etc.) and I need to get up early to do it.
I'm discovering that you definitely get more flack for being an editor than for being a writer. People are much more inclined to grouch at you. This may be in some part due to my .signature (the file that automatically gets appended to all my e-mails), which recently was this one:
"I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters." - Solomon Short
I think too many people were taking that as personally directed. I have changed it, so as not to confuse them.
Anyway, back to work. Have a lovely day, my dears. Oh, and for those of you reading Johnny's Story and confused by the voice, Johnny isn't black. Cassie is black, but Johnny isn't. Clear as mud? Good.
What else is on my mind? Easiest to simply post here another message I just sent to the Erotica Workshop, rather than explaining it all over again...
***
Subject: EROS: CHAT: More aspects of editing an anthology...
I don't remember if I've made clear to y'all that I don't exactly have final say on these. The set-up is that the publisher has asked me for the anthology; I put it together and show it to him, and only *then* do I get a contract. So I can't formally accept anything -- all I can tell people is that I'm accepting it provisional on his approval. I think this is a fairly standard (and reasonable) precaution on his part, considering that he has no real evidence that I have any skill in editing an anthology. It's a bit frustrating to work with, though, even though I'm pretty sure he'll buy what I put together.
Mainly now I'm wondering at what stage I should be sending back decisions. If I definitely want to buy a story, should I be telling people now? The ones I'm uncertain of, do I leave them in limbo until more stories come in? Would it be kinder to tell people that they're on the maybe list, so they have time to revise or send in something new? Ditto the ones I'm sure I want to reject -- do I tell them that immediately, so they have time to try another piece? Can I ask people to revise along certain lines, knowing that I can't promise to buy the piece -- is that fair?
Would it help if I gave people more of a sense of what I'm looking for? I definitely lean towards the 'literary' side; I'm looking for something more than a solid, erotic story (of which I've received many)...I'm also looking for deep characterization, and/or interesting style.
Is it even fair to ask these questions here, knowing that some of you have submitted stories, and are undoubtedly wondering where you stand? This is my test case, I'm afraid -- I'll probably make several mistakes along the way, and I can only hope that they will not be too painful for my first submitters...
***
10:05 - Wrote new story. :-) Sent to those of you on the 'first readers'
list. Again, drop me e-mail if you want to be on tht list and aren't.
This one is a short erotica piece for possible inclusion in new book.
Gods, I'm happy. There's a delirious high when you finish a piece...
Also read the next-to-last Sandman graphic novel, "The Kindly Ones". I
had read much of it before, but not all. Inspirational. The man knows
what to leave out, a skill I have yet to master.
I append below something I sent to the Erotica Writers' Workshop this
morning -- perhaps it may be useful to other writers reading this:
***
Hey y'all. So, I'm still reading "Writing Below the Belt", and am in the
middle of an interview with John Preston, who published The Flesh and the
Word anthologies, among many other books of his own and others. And
something he said I thought was worth sharing (well, lots of things he
said, but this in particular):
"One thing that beginning writers never get, and I certainly didn't get in
the beginning, is that publishing does reward perseverance. It really
does. To stick with it, to write books, to get them published wherever
you can. To do whatever you have to do to make a living is something
that...publishing respects."
This is how my own career has been, y'know. No big successes out of
nowhere. Just taking on lots of little projects. Starting with the net
and being paid nothing. Sending out poetry and being paid in two copies.
Writing porn on the side to finance my 'literary' habit. Sending things
to every anthology I hear about. Sending and resending and starting this
workshop because I saw a need. Sharing what I've learned -- passing it
along the way it was passed to me.
There are certainly writers who write one brilliant novel, and then get a
massive advance and are overnight successes. But that's not the way it
goes for most of us, and it's certainly not the way it's gone for me. I
just want to encourage you all to keep writing, and keep sending, and keep
revising. The work *will* get better. The stories *will* get sold.
Persevere. If you see a magazine or anthology guidelines that even
slightly resonates for you, try sending them something. It can't hurt.
Even if they don't buy that one, maybe they'll remember your name for the
next one. Bits and pieces, y'know? Eventually, they pile up.
***
Had a weird night. Got kinda mopey last night and went to bed early. Had
all sorts of strange, anxious dreams, and woke up at 4:30 a.m., unable to
go back to sleep, but quite rested nonetheless. It's nice having Roshani
in Chicago sometimes (though I'd generally prefer to have her here) -- I
was able to call her at 5:00 my time and not wake her. Chatted for a
couple of hours, ate some breakfast, did some work, lit an oil lamp and
now I feel much better, but oh, that was a strange mood I was in.
Plan for today: Get through the day without collapsing...come home and
sleep. Sleep in tomorrow. Try to shake this cold. Maybe I'll socialize
this weekend -- see if I can drag a couple of people to a contra dance or
some such Friday night. I haven't seen people in TOO LONG. I am
seriously neglecting my friends. People I really ought to see soon:
Jed, Del, Ian (men with three-letter names, apparently), Adam,
Peter...that'll do for now. I seem to see the women more frequently.
:-)
10:00 -- Finished the reflections on my teaching demo... now I just have
to finish printing out 18 copies (of 14 pages each) and then go meeting
with my fiction teacher, and then write a 3-pg paper. By noon.
(Actually, I have an hour free from 1-2 as well, so if I don't finish by
noon, I can finish it up then.) Crazy crazy. After 5:30 this afternoon
I'm going to shut off my brain for a while. Maybe I'll rent a movie
tonight...any suggestions? (I really do need to get up to date on my
classic films...I've seen so few. Casablanca, The Thin Man, umm...there
was another one about a man who faked paintings and a museum robbery that
was really good...oh, a couple more here and there, but honestly, I need a
nice comprehensive list of the ten classic movies I absolutely must see.
And if any of you can suggest a funny one for tonight, that would be most
appreciated. (Of course, the pathetic video store down the block probably
won't have any of them, but that's another problem altogether.)
11:30 - I received mail from a friend today, asking if she should admit to
a guy that she has a terrible crush on him. I responded with a diatribe
on geek flirting, and thought some of you might be amused, so I enclose it
(suitably edited to protect the guilty) below.
***
Y'know, I go for geek flirting. I don't know if you've heard of it, but
it's a fairly common term out here in the Bay Area (where there are lots
of geeks. :-)
The main idea in geek flirting is that you skip all the little games and
insinuations and little touches and guessing and go directly to finding
out if they're interested. Conversations tend to go like this:
[chat, chat, chat about various things, ideally with just the two of you
there]
Female F looks at Male X, pauses a moment, takes a deep breath (subtly):
["You know something, X?"]
X looks quizzically at F. ["No, what?"]
["I gotta admit, I think you're really attractive."] F can leave
it at that, or follow up with, ["Would you like to go see a movie Friday
night?"]
X responds, blushing ["Gee, thanks. Yeah, a movie would be great!"]
or, alternatively,
["Gee, thanks. That's nice to hear, but I'm afraid I actually have a
girlfriend (boyfriend)/have taken a vow of celibacy/need to wash the
dog..."]
The big advantage to geek flirting is that the pain of rejection is quick
and hopefully early enough that neither of you is too
invested/embarrassed. Ideally, this should happen *before* you develop a
truly major crush, but since you're partway there already, I'd advise
finding out as quickly as possible.
That's my approach, anyway. Besides, it's not fair that the guys should
have to bear all the brunt of possible rejection. If we want equality and
fair play, we should take some responsibility ourselves...
Addendum: Geek flirting does of course apply equally well to f/f and m/m
situations...and m/f/f, f/m/m/, f/m/m/m/f, etc if it comes to that...
Addendum Two: Another good approach is the group geek flirt. This is in
some sense even safer, in that it can be passed off as casual much more
easily; gives them an easier out and saves you embarassment. This does
require that you have some confidence in their social skills...so
they don't utterly embarrass you by asking you to explain
yourself...eg.:
[big group of people hanging out, chatting. F subtly brings the
conversation around to cute guys, and people start talking about what they
think is really cute in a guy. All the guys in the room get a little
nervous.]
[F: "You guys are all so shallow. Tight ass, big bulge -- c'mon! What
really gets me are hands. Look at X over there -- now he has really nice
hands."]
[X blushes as all the women examine his hands.]
[F repeats, staring directly at X, "Yup, sexy hands are what I think are
really attractive."]
This actually slides over the line from geek flirting to regular flirting,
but it's fun to do anyway, so what the heck.
***
You can tell I'm trying to avoid work, can't you? Shh...
Gotta scramble -- talk to y'all later!
1:20 - Well, I got the work done, with time to spare. Didn't take as long
as I'd expected. Paging through stuff, I realized (how odd. I used
paging through to refer to web browsing. Made sense to me at the time...
:-) that I didn't remember pointing you to the latest interview with me,
at Hoot Island. May
amuse you. I've also put up a new column. Not
as fond of this one as some of the others...hopefully the next one will be
more fun.
Had an interesting time yesterday evening talking to my photographer
friend Steve about a possible collaboration for submission to Masquerade's
Erotic Journal. That would be great fun -- writing a story to go with
Steve's photos.
Here are the guidelines for the anthology, in case any of you are
interested in submitting to it.
WANTED:
Reading period: 'til January 1st, 1998. (I'm setting this somewhat
arbitrarily, and may extend it, or close earlier if I get enough good
material).
Format: E-mail submissions preferred, cleanly formatted (I will either
delete or return unreadable material) in plain text (not an attachment).
If you can't do an e-mail sub let me know and we'll work around it.
Mail to maryanne@mamohanraj.com, with a clearly marked header reading:
If you have any questions, please ask.
A mini-review:
I'm not going to call this a review, because I've only read a tenth of the
book so far, but I really really want to recommend _Writing Below the
Belt: Conversations with Erotic Authors_, by Michael Rowe, published by
Masquerade, IBN 1-56333-540-9.
The first quote grabbed me: We are all in the same boat, in a stormy sea,
and we owe each other a terrible loyalty. - G.K. Chesterton.
The rest of the book is a set of conversations with ten erotica authors,
some of which I know and some I don't. The are: Dorothy Allison, Laura
Antoniou, Michael Bronski, Pat Califia, Lars Eighner, Nancy Kilpatrick,
Will Leber, Michael Lowenthal, Scott O'Hara, V.K. McCarty, John Preston,
Leigh W. Rutledge, Steven Saylor, Caro Soles, and Larry Townsend.
Fascinating reading so far, and a great inspirational resource to keep on
your shelf, especially when the bastards are getting you down.
Today did a little work, mostly cooked and chatted with people. Big
Ethiopian meal for late lunch (fake injera and doro wat and vegetable
alicha and painfully spicy lentils). Yummy, but still full even though I
ate two hours ago. :-)
Taking the rest of today easy, I think, and tomorrow will be a work cram
day. Hope y'all are having a good weekend!
Wrote a song. Warning -- only read if you can tolerate large doses of
sentiment.:
If I could write you a song, to tell you how I loved you,
I would lay in our bed, your body warm beside me; I would
If I could write you a song, to tell you how I loved you,
If I could love him any less, just a little less,
if I could.
The pleasure of that has pretty much fogged out the rest of the day.
:-)
Oh, and if you happen to be in S.F. tomorrow night, stop by Romantasy's
Open House in the evening. Yours truly will be in an itty bitty fashion
show there for their Grand Re-Opening.
Isn't really much else to report, since I've had a headache and not done
much all day. Watched The Associate, which was pretty implausible IMHO,
but had Whoopi Goldberg, who I adore. Also took place in the NY Stock
Exchange, where my dear friend Alex is working these days, so it was fun
imagining him in that atmosphere.
Oh, and my teaching demo went fine. I was nervous as hell, and raced
through the first ten minutes, but then calmed down, slowed down, and had
a good time. Think the class did too -- their evaluations were generally
positive, though they did point out some areas that could use some work.
A learning experience...
In othe news, it's gotten cold here. Cold and rainy. Long skirts and
sweaters. I love it, though it's odd to be huddling under covers when
less than a week ago it was blazing. Fast shift.
Tired tired. Talked with Kevin until too late last night (far past
bedtime) which was lovely but tiring. (Actually, we spent most of the
conversation debating ethics, but I rather enjoy that. I think the last
time we did this we were arguing pedagogy).
It's Roshani's birthday today! I'd tell you to e-mail her, but I don't
think she's checking e-mail very regularly. Well, maybe she is. If you
feel like saying happy birthday to a slightly mopey stranger, she's at
rtananda@midway.uchicago.edu. Tell her I sent you. :-)
Okay, off to freak out some more about the demo...
David's arrived, which is nice, if a little odd. I think of him as part
of my Philly life, so it's a bit disconcerting having him permanently part
of California life. We'll be having breakfast in an hour or so, though,
which will be very pleasant. He's still a bit wired from driving across
the country, but will hopefully calm down soon. :-) Jasmine (his
kitty) made the trip just fine, and we're all relieved. :-)
I'm a bit nervous about the mas paan, but if it comes out well, maybe I'll
put up the recipe. (It actually takes about four recipes in the cookbook,
so I may not make the effort -- one for the curry powder, one for the
curry, one for the dough, and a final one for the actual buns).
Btw, I was flattered to note that the latest issue of mouthorgan is
prefaced with a quote from one of my stories, "Girl Behind the Fantasy".
A little rush. :-) It's an interesting article, btw, as they generally
are -- I find myself reading mouthorgan regularly these days (along with
Ceej's journal) -- they're really the only things I keep up with on the
web. I like screech and Intersmut and Hoot Island, but they're NOT
UPDATED often enough. Drives me crazy.
On the other hand, I'm once again behind on my own column, so who am I to
complain? Since screech and Intersmut are updating even less often than I
am, there's less motivation to do mine on time. I wish I could get
someone else to carry it -- various places seemed interested, but appear
to have forgotten about me. :( If you feel like pestering Naughty Lynx
or Good Vibes or Blowfish about it, feel free. :-)
This morning I have no urgent homework that I haven't done yet, so I'm
thinking of attempting finishing some fragments of earlier stories.
Finishing one, at least. I should also practice. I'm hesitant to start
on either, but there's only so long I can procrastinate by talking to
y'all. And I'm going to stop now. :-)
11:55 - A productive day so far. Utterly reworte "Endings" and sent it
out to you. Did a first draft of a new story, "Spirits in San Francisco",
which is a fairly light piece for an erotic mythology anthology. I think
it's a little too light for my tastes right now, and I also don't know
enough (or don't remember enough) about Native American culture or
mythology (any experts out there should feel free to volunteer their
services :-) to do it properly, I fear. We'll see what my group thinks of
it. Also spent some time this morning trying to get all my unfinished
stories in one place -- there's far more of them than I'd realized.
Fragments all over the place. Going to try to push to get a bunch of
them into at least rough draft form this month, I think.
Meanwhile, I practiced only a little and have still much homework left for
other classes. Ah well.
Glutted myself on five Miles Vorkosigan novels (by Bujold) this weekend.
Had a delightful time, but that's why you haven't heard much from me
lately. I needed the break. Great, great space adventure (with
characterization! Good characterization!)
Well, the movie recommendations have started to come in. Jim recommended
"It Happened One Night" and David's loaned me "Brazil". I forgot to
mention that I *have* seen most of the Woody Allen films (which you may or
may not consider classics. :-)
Well, I was having a grumbly, tired morning (my cold came back; I wanted
to sleep more; it's still dark outside, etc. and so on), but waiting in my
mailbox was a forward from Dale of a lovely new review of my book. Not
only was it favorable, but it was elegantly written, which is always a
plus. :-) It inspired me to take a little time to reorganize my awards page, and stick all the reviews at the
top. *grin* This all seems rather self-centered of me, but I guess it's
part of the job as well, publicizing myself and my work. If any of you
feel like writing a review (I assume you've all bought a copy of my book
already :-), that'd be great. (Maybe I should be more nervous that
someone will write a bad review, but honestly, so far the main complaints
have been 'the book's too short' and 'the writing is a little young'. And
okay, I don't particularly want to be characterized as a young
writer...but on the other hand, I am a young writer, so it could be worse.
If I were 60 and being called a young writer, then I'd be embarrassed.
Well, today's not quite as under control as yesterday was. I forgot I had
something due, and will have to scramble to get it done in time for class.
Should be okay, though. Some nice things from this morning -- read a
lovely submission to my anthology (actually, I've enjoyed *all* of the
submissions so far :-), and received mail from a high school student in
Taiwan, who was doing a report on internet erotica, and wanted to
interview me. :-)
*yawn* Morning, everyone. Almost afternoon here, and time passing
swiftly. (Ain't that always the way when you're trying to catch up on
work?) I'm actually feeling reasonably in control this morning --
catching up on my teaching journals, almost done with my analysis of my
demo, finished my fiction evaluation, read all the submissions for the
anthology so far (tentatively titled "Maiden Voyage"), cooked cornbread
this morning so I didn't have to buy lunch on campus...just generally
productive and in control. Still behind, but in a controlled way. :-)
Catching up fast. I expect to be all caught up on academics by the end of
the week. So there. :-)Guidelines for Maiden Voyage, a new erotica anthology
Published by Masquerade Press, edited by Mary Anne Mohanraj
Short erotic fiction, no longer than 7000 words.
Any orientation okay. Sf/f/h okay. Lit fic okay.
No pedophilia, bestiality, rape. S/M okay.
- Authors must be unpublished in erotica field
.
- Note: publisher is firm that f/f sex must be written by women;
also, no men writing under female pseudonyms
Pays 2 1/2 cents/word; buys first anthology rights.
ANTHOLOGY SUBMISSION: title
If it doesn't have that header, I may not read it.
Working hard. :-) Who ever thought I'd have a job where I'd actually
enjoy working 7 days a week?
Heyla. Oof, tired today. Stayed up late for the Romantasy Grand
Re-Opening...(had I mentioned that I was in their fashion show? Silly,
but fun. :-) Romantasy is a local erotica shop, specializing in corsets,
fetish wear, etc. Very cute. I wore a Victorian white lace corset and a
long silver satin skirt...very modest (especially compared to some of the
others!) and quite lovely. Had a great time.If I Could
I would sit by your side, drinking in the fire's warmth; I would
lean against your shoulder, with my hand on your knee.
I would work in early morning, listening for you stirring,
listening for the moment when you'd wake to me...
write you a song of a thousand nights and days, I would write
you that song and when you heard me singing, you would know
that music can tear your heart away.
hear our children shouting as they ran down the hall.
They would tumble into bed, their eyes so bright and shining,
calling "Daddy, oh Mommy, oh won't you come and play?"
write you a song of a thousand nights and days, I would write
you that song and when you heard me singing, you would know
that music can tear your heart away.
just enough to bring comfort to your soul,
if I could carve away enough
to dry those tears so shining
surely you know I would try
I would try...
Hey, munchkins. Well, today was an exciting day. Richard Kasak,
publisher of Masquerade, indicated interest in seeing a manuscript from
me! He's also interested in possibly having me edit an anthology
(guidelines for it may be up here soon).
I'm doing a teaching demo today. I'm going to get up and pretend I know
what I'm doing in front of my colleagues. My nerves are frayed. I'll let
you know how it goes.
A three-day hiatus in diary entries may have convinced some of you that I
did not love you anymore. Fear not! The arrival and settling-in of
David, the cooking of a massive meal on Thursday, a reading at Greyhaven
and a potluck on Sunday, not to mention the piles of looming homework have
simply combined to take Mary Anne's life from
just-barely-manageably-hectic to critically-stressed. Normal operation of
this journal should resume shortly. Please stay tuned.
Morning, munchkins! Ah, Thursday, at last. No classes today, so it's my
catch-up day. Practice and cook, practice and cook -- that's the plan for
today. Dawn and Adam and David and Ian and Heather to dinner tonight, and
I'm getting mildly ambitious, making mas paan, which are these little meat
buns. Heather is vegetarian, but hopefully the rest of them will like
them. The street vendors sell them in Sri Lanka and I was addicted to
them -- hard not to be, since they cost something like 5 cents in
translation.
The leaves may not be turning the way they do in New England, but the
chill air proclaims that it is indeed autumn. This is the first morning
in monthst that I've woken up to a cold room (without having the windows
open all night). Tumble out of bed, immediately layer on socks and shirt
and skirt and sweatshirt and about ten minutes later I'm comfortably warm.
It reminds me of when I was a little girl, and my dad was calling up the
stairs so I'd get up for school, and the room was so cold, even if the
heat had been on for an hour or so beforehand. I've always felt the cold
more than most people do.
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