Blog
Oct112018
National Coming Out Day
I’m gay. I’ve been able to say that for a long time, but once upon a childhood, those were the scariest words in the world. I grew up in rural Oklahoma, a time and place where being out was truly dangerous. I don’t think or talk about it often, as it’s long removed from where I’ve built my life, but I remember kissing a boy named Jason, something he grew out of, and knowing from an early age that I wanted one other boy to hold hands with, to kiss. I’m incredibly fortunate that I got out, and that I survived with as little harm as I did. The hardest part was the loneliness, the isolation. Even in books, my best escape, I couldn’t find myself in the characters I read about. I remember parsing Tolkien for queer-coding, paying special attention to Merry and Pippin. But still the loneliness, the fear of being found out, of being hurt or killed, was with me every day. More than anything, this drives why I write the YA books I write, so that the next kid out there has them. I am beyond grateful to have the life I do, the friends I do, and the love I do. #NationalComingOutDay
Oct82018
I Plant Flowers
I wish I had a picture of it. When I was in high school, in Driver’s Ed class, we drove down country roads to practice. One drive took us by a plot of grass and Oklahoma mud where a farmhouse had once stood. Stripped to the concrete foundation, I remember the square of irises, popping purple and green from the ground. They were something left behind. A little light, a little brightness, to say “we were here.”
Now I have my own little plot of mud and grass. And on those days when it’s just overwhelming, when the world feels like it’s regressing to somewhere darker, I plant flowers. I leave a little light behind.
It’s almost winter. Denver went from golden autumn to gray, so it wasn’t much fun, but I spent some time today putting about 150 bulbs into the mud. It may take a year or two, but they will bloom. Black parrot tulips, crocus in purple and white, early snow glories, and a crazy rainbow spread of irises.
I plant flowers. I leave a little light behind.
Oct122017
Boldly Going, Going Boldly
Star Trek Discovery isn’t perfect, but I’m not sure any television show, movie, or comic book franchise will ever be perfect in the eyes of its fans. There’s a passion in fandom that’s tied to nostalgia, to the version of a franchise we first fell in love with.
I grew up on reruns of Star Trek the Original Series. Every day at 6pm on Channel 34 in Oklahoma I visited strange worlds and came to think that people should be judged on more than skin color or by ethnic or national background. When the Next Generation came along, I went happily back to the stars.
I love Star Wars too, but for very different reasons. Star Trek was always about the principles for me—that humanity could grow beyond petty squabbles and conflicts over religion or resources to do something bigger. We could spread out, explore. We could forgo economics, hunger, and internal armed conflict.
For some people, Discovery will be a letdown because while it focuses on the Federation/Klingon war, that’s not what it’s about. It’s about explorers and scientists in wartime. The Discovery is a science vessel. That she’s a science vessel whose research into finding a “better way to fly” must be repurposed for war provides a perfect setting for the show’s primary theme: can the Federation’s ideals survive in a time of war?
Some characters easily resent this, and they run the risk of helping the Klingons win. Other characters pivot to the other extreme, that winning the war is worth any cost. The interesting ones, as always, are conflicted and walk a line down the middle, pulled apart by their principles. The main character in Discovery, Michael Bernam, is a walking example of this: a human orphaned by the Klingons then raised by Vulcans, and now back among humans.
My largest problem with the recent Trek movies is that they failed to understand what Star Trek is truly about. The principles that drove the original series seemed entirely lacking, the scientific curiosity thrown over for a shoot first ask questions later mentality. The writers seemed determined to plumb the depths of the Federation’s dark side and offer up villains whose motivations, while sympathetic, were outright betrayals or rejections of the original series’ principles. “This isn’t your father’s Star Trek” so many reviewers said, and they weren’t wrong. The main issue I had was that it wasn’t my Star Trek either.
I love Discovery. I loved the first two episodes, a prologue to the main event. I loved episode four the most, where the shoot first character blunders into their death because that mentality has put them on too extreme of a vector.
I’m more than excited to see where the series goes. It’s not the original series. It’s not the Next Generation, but it feels far closer to Star Trek: wonder, exploration, and guiding principles, albeit tested against the backdrop of war.
I can’t end this review without mentioning CBS All Access or the controversy around it. Like so many, I hate the subscription service. It’s a lot of money for one show (and for me, there is no other CBS show I’m interested in after they booted Supergirl). For now, I’ll pay the fee to see Discovery, but I would absolutely hate to see it fail because of a short sighted attempt to launch the subscription service. I’d much prefer to buy the season on Amazon and watch the episodes a day later commercial free (like I do the Expanse or Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency).
Subscription aside, I hope Discovery succeeds. It’s the Star Trek I’ve waited a long time for.
Sep82017
I Grieve
I’d just discovered sushi when my grandmother died. It wasn’t the sort of food you found in rural Oklahoma, not the time I grew up. I tried it when my boss took us there for dinner. I enjoyed it and learned that I have good chopstick days and bad chopstick days.
A few weeks after grandmother passed away, I dreamed about sushi, about sitting in a beautiful restaurant: dark granite table, fine wine, and limited lighting. I could hear other tables, snatches of their conversation, the chink of glass on stone, but I couldn’t see them. I looked around the table and saw my father across from me and my grandmother sitting next to me.
The meal continued. We ate. We laughed. We talked about nothing important. A waiter appeared with a small tray. As he set it on the table, he said, “This is the only fish of this kind. This is the only time you will have this meal.”
At that moment I realized my grandmother was dead, that I was dreaming, and that when I woke she’d be gone again. As the thought came to me she winked, and I woke up.
Since then I’ve made sushi my happy food. I eat it when I’m down, sad, or grieving. My father died this week, and I’m eating a lot of sushi. My friend Liz, dear heart, sent me a set of chopsticks she picked up for me in Japan. I don’t know if she’s like me is terrible about mailing things or if they just arrived, but I love them and I intend to put them to good use.
May162017
Finding Your Inner Extrovert
Here are the slides for my Pikes Peak Writers Conference presentation on Finding Your Inner Extrovert.
Apr302017
Agile Project Management for Writers
For those who attended my Pikes Peak Writers Conference session on Agile Project Managemen for Writers, here are the slides. If you’d like to ask follow up questions or to discuss, please reply to this post.
Slides: Agile Project Management for Writers.
I want to post a picture of my friend Helen’s checklist for last editing sprint. I like this method:
Feb212017
Write Your Way Out
Use every rejection to fuel your determination.
Use every bit of good news, every gain, to fuel your persistence.
Whether it’s a good day or a bad one, write your way through whatever blocks or distracts you.
Writing should be your joy, the thing that stops time because you’re lost in it.
Take the best parts of your life and crystallize them in words.
Take the worst parts of your life and write your way out. Because it’s the only way past them.
This is the best, most consistent advice I can give.
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