Forward! Gaily Forward!

(Previously on The Mundane Misfit: To do is to be. To be is to do. Do be do be do.)

So it’s been a month since I decided to stop writing stories. During that time, I kept going to writing meetings, writing groups, writing classes, and, hell, even Sasquan (the World Science Fiction convention happened to take place close to home this year).

Aaaaand?

And I’m unquestionably out. I am no longer identifying as a spec fic story writer. Till the end of the year, at least, if not indefinitely.

I lasted three days at Sasquan. Less, actually. I went on Wednesday and came home on Friday. I had intended to leave before the Hugos for months… um… I mean, my daughter’s sleepover birthday party was scheduled for Saturday night, so I was never going to stay the whole time… but I had planned to stay longer than I did.

I have never loved conventions. As a very *** person (I’m still not certain if I’m an outgoing introvert or a shy extravert, but that’s a WHOLE other blog post – this one, in fact), the hordes of strangers drain me faster than anything can refill. Recently, the feeling of being on the other side of the velvet rope (i.e. I now know enough people in the field to never be truly alone, and many of them are kind enough to treat me as a peer) has kept me functioning while at cons, but they’re never going to be a favorite thing.

This time I just felt like a fraud. There neither as a pro writer or as a pure fan, I fingernail clung to a nebulous (ha! Wrong award!) hold on being a friend of the genre that just couldn’t live up to the (con)tension of this particular year. I went to a few panels, a few readings, and several bars… and then I went home.

And on that 5-hour drive home alone, some things became clear. (Not the sky. Holy cow, the smoke in the air. Much love to the firefolks…)

Clear thing Number One. In the past… good lord, 6 years… of trying to be a writer, I’ve become friends with an amazing group of people in this field, many of whom have had incredible achievements both before and during the time of my knowing them. I’ve had friends sell stories and even story collections. I’ve had friends get book deals – sometimes multiple book deals. I’ve had friends self-publish and successfully sell a crapton of books. I’ve had friends write articles for the USA Today.

In all that time, I’ve been blissfully happy for every one of them, and never once had a tiny teeny bit of jealousy for their achievements. Not once. Not the smallest shade of green.

Until Sunil Patel announced his review gig with Lightspeed Magazine.

I’ve never turned so verdant so fast.

(Side note: If you twitter, and you don’t follow Sunil… Go. Now. Immediately. Seriously. You can literally make your life more enjoyable with a single click. How often is that true? Operators are standing by.)

Now, he got this job completely legitimately: by being a superb reviewer on Goodreads and elsewhere, and being absolutely himself that whole time; funny, engaging, on point, etc. And I … I have two Goodreads reviews, I think. Oh, look. No. Three. And eight on Amazon, more of which are for bras and mint jelly and the like than for books.

But his accomplishment was the one that made me jealous. Actually meeting him in person made that even more clear; even though I knew him already, he was the one person there I actually shook to talk to. (And that includes Vonda freaking McIntyre, one of my three favorite living female authors.)

Hm…

Q. So why don’t I have more reviews?

A. Who the hell cares what I think?

Clear thing Number Two. Some people care what the hell I think. Not the least of whom are… authors.

I saw two things on the same day in mid-August; this blog post by Randy Henderson and this meme. The blog is Randy talking about why it’s just great that “you” wrote a book… even though he might not read it. The meme just suggests writing reviews of books you like.

These coming together really hit me in my soft parts. Randy’s blog made me realize that I haven’t even read HIS book yet! And I really want to! It looks like my sweet spot, and what the hell? But he’s right, and working writers just don’t have time to read everything that floats past, cause there’s just so damn much stuff coming down the river and you have your own work to do!

And that’s why when you do read stuff, and you love it, you need to freaking tell people. I don’t think I’d even finished closing the back cover of The Martian before I was emailing my friend Lawson to tell him to read it immediately. (Of course, having forgotten that he was one of the two people who had recommended it to me. Dur.) And it’s one of my 3 Goodreads reviews, which I wrote because I couldn’t not!

During my 5-hour drive home, I listened to the audiobook of Station Eleven. And let me tell you, that book is just superb. Wonderfully written. Deep and thoughtful. Superb characterization. Lovely beyond lovely.

Did I enjoy it?

Nope.  Not even one tiny bit.

I finished the whole damn thing cause it was so beautiful, but I felt no desire to tell people about it when I finished.

Hmm….

Clear thing Number Three. For me, there is a clear distinction between quality and enjoyment. They are separate things for me, and things that I happen to be fairly good at identifying, even when they don’t coincide. And when they do? It’s magic!

I have always split these two things out. Not just in literature, but in movies, in food, in everything. I have wide ranging tastes, and that often includes putting quite plebian stuff in my LOVE category. While I loooooooove eating at the Herbfarm and Canlis, reveling in truffles, divine service, and meticulous plating, I have a more than occasional craving for microwave burritos and shitty pizza. I adore watching Oscar winners and I adore watching Michael Bay turn-off-your-brain-and-ooh-the-pretty-explosions.

And while I just admire the hell out of the literary excellence that the Hugos and such are rewarding, what do I actually most enjoy reading in my genre?

The roller coaster rides.

Part of why I felt so strangely about The Great Hugo Controversy of 2015 ™ is the fact that I actually agree with two of the minor arguments the Puppies made; a lot of spec fic is just metaphor, thinly-veiled or otherwise, and a lot of it lately – especially the award winning stuff – has been about progresssive issues. My “I’m not a puppy” differences are 1) I don’t think this is new, and 2) I don’t think this is a bad thing.  Oh!  And also I’m a total SJW.

But yeah. I miss Heinlein-ian romps, and I miss reading them without wincing. I miss being able to love Marion Zimmer Bradley without a twinge. I’m not even a white male and I envy the fun and simplicity of the world the Puppies have imagined into their shared past. Sounds like a cool place to visit for a few thousand-word short story, if a pretty shitty place to live as a bisexual mother of a mixed race daughter.

I have felt out of place in my genre at least partly because my tastes run to the pedestrian. Because the objectively better my work got, the less I enjoyed writing it. And because the great stuff, the award winners, and the stuff that I should have been reading if only to know what I should be trying to live up to? Just wasn’t what I wanted to be reading most of the time.

Hmmm. That “Clear Thing” got a little unclear at the end there. And this is getting long. So…

Clear thing Number Four. What I want to be doing right now is focusing on the things I am just freaking batshit in love with, and sharing those things with others.

So when I return from Australia, in December of this year, I am going to launch a separate blog that will be reviews only. Category? Mixed. I’ll review books, movies, restaurants… anything I am smitten with. And most likely, I’ll be mixing my metaphors as well, in that way that I do. I’ll tell you that writer’s prose is like caramel, that movie feels like reading Little Women out loud to your daughter, that new restaurant serves Merchant Ivory films on a plate.

And on this blog, I will only rave. 4 and 5 star reviews only. But I’m not Homer. I don’t love absolutely everything. I’m just only going to write about the things that I do. On the site, I will keep a running list of things I’ve read/seen/gone to – with links to my reviews if they exist- so you can clearly see what I’ve not loved, without me having to bash anything!

I’m very excited about it, not the least of which, because I get to ask everyone to send me their favorite things! Please DO share with me your new book, your favorite restaurant, your favorite old movie I might have missed. (and whoo nelly, just fyi, did I miss a LOT of movies in the mid 2000s, when my kid was a baby baby…) And the absolute worst that will happen if I don’t like it, is… nothing!  🙂

I’ll be setting up the new blog as I have time while we travel, so it should be ready to launch the Monday after Thanksgiving. And this here blog is about to take a sharp left turn into being a travel log in two weeks, but I’ll be back to my usual meandering self come the holidays.

So basically, TLDR: Follow your bliss, everyone. I sure intend to. Publically!

(Next time on The Mundane Misfit: We arrive in OZ!!!!!!)