Headed back into SteamCon in another hour or so for a couple of panels, one at 11 on H.G. Wells and one at 2 on "Rustproof Steampunk" (underwater stuff, of which I can think of only a few.) I've got to say, I really think it's one of the better organized cons around, and holy cow, are the costumes gorgeous. I go wearing my jeans rather than try to assemble some half-assed costume that simply could not measure up to some of the creations wandering around.
The reading last night was fine, and the subsequent panel (I should be posting the notes next week) a good and lively one, plus I got to meet someone else writing about VIctoria Woodhull! I'm pre-odering Michelle Black's SEANCE IN SEPIA, which comes out next week, right now!.
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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
~K. Richardson
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Teaser: A Seed on the Wind
The Jelly Bean Tanker Explosion, drawn using Sketchpad Pro on the iPad, included here because a blog entry is so much more interesting looking when there's a visual element. Plus, I like this picture.Should it be “on” or “upon” the wind? I’m torn. Either way, here’s a scrap to tantalize you a little.
He tried the drugs of Waterdeep.
He let himself be stung by wasps, each time burning like fire, melting like ice, evaporating into unconsciousness.
He chewed hallucinogenic onions and leaves so bitter he tasted them for days later.
He tried the flesh of an animate cactus and slept for three days in a dreamworld where he lived and died and rose into the form of a strange creature with ribbed horns on its head and hooves that struck fire from the rocks it ran over. It died to a wolf, and he rose that time as a vast flower, taking up a good third of the Abyss’s width, skirting the sunstrip and forcing travelers to bring him water and shit to pay passage. He lived for eons that way, then was vanquished by fungus and woke with his mouth tasting of licorice.
He listened to the dissonant orchestras whose intent was to derange the senses in tandem with a particular brew made from spit and a leafy green vegetable that had been shipped up from Ellsfall and followed it up with the discordant screeching of rodents.
He ate the eyeball-sized snails that thrifty city folk grow in barrels to sell at market, trying them raw, cooked in butter, and threaded on skewers to be marked with the grill’s deep black stripes.
He let parasites burrow into his skin and waited for the bliss of their hatching.
He huffed gritty crystals scraped from a cavern’s wall and scorpion venom.
He drank the blood of a mausel dog, although he let someone else wield the blade that killed it. He told himself it would have died with or without his intervention.
He smoked snakeskin and toadskin, and the dust of the yellow moths that come out only after a great wind.
He drifted from high to high, abandoning himself and becoming a new thing.
Taco, as often happens, agrees with me.So Beyonce appeared at the VMAs and called herself a feminist. More than that, she stood in front of an enormous glowing sign saying “Feminist” in an image that’s exploded across the Internet.
I think that’s pretty darn cool. Because I am so tired of what’s been done to the word feminist by those who oppose it, the redefinition of it to a hateful caricature. I taught Women’s Studies for a while and time after time, smart, fierce, wonderful young women would say to me, “I’m not a feminist, but…” and then something aligned with feminism would come out of their mouth. And it made me want to weep, every time, that the word had been recast to the point where they did not want to be identified by it.
I read a piece today that said, “Before you call her a feminist, know she’s voted Republican!”
So what? Does that author really think there aren’t Republicans who are feminists? Another piece said OMG she poledanced in a music video. Again, so what?
Feminism isn’t about policing other people’s expressions of sexuality. It’s about being able to make choices. It’s about a view of the world that says women are human beings as much as men are (which sometimes hasn’t been the case in the past, and which, sadly, some people still believe today). It’s about being able to fuck if you want and not be labeled a slut just as much as it’s about being able to choose not to fuck and not be labeled frigid or aberrant. It’s about neither gender getting relegated to pink or blue, but being able to choose whatever they want, including pink and blue and purple and black and white and whatever shade you like. It’s about getting out of all the sad and narrow little boxes that our world tries to shove us into on a constant basis.
It’s about saying yes. Not saying no. Unless you want. Or maybe you say maybe. That’s okay. It’s about women being able to make a choice.
Here’s a useful passage from the Geek Feminism Wiki:
I believe that’s what Beyoncé is promoting. And I admire her for it, and I rejoice that a little of the stigma may get stripped away as a result of that. And if you want to argue about that, do me a favor and make sure you’re talking from a position where you’ve done some research, rather than a kneejerk reaction or trolling.
