The LiveJournal Guide to Southern India

So, I don’t think I’ve gotten around to mentioning that next month, kniedzw and I are skipping off to India — specifically, Bangalore. His company is sending him there for two weeks of work, so we’ve bought me a ticket and extended his trip an extra week and a half, and will be running around sightseeing for a while.

Our timing coincides very fortuitously with Diwali, so we’ll be hanging around Bangalore for the festival. After that and a bit of local sightseeing, though, we’re interested in spending roughly five days Somewhere Else. Ergo I throw this open to you, O Internets: if you know southern India at all, where do you recommend we go? Mumbai? Goa? We like places of historical interest, temples, that kind of thing, but we’re skipping the big-name things in the north like the Taj Mahal because we’d rather see a tiny fraction of one region than an even tinier fraction of the whole country.

This is the first trip to India for both of us, so any and all advice is appreciated.

something for everyone

I have to boggle alongside kniedzw (who found this thread) that he found it on Fark, of all places. I haven’t tried to watch the video that originally started the thread — it may be gone by now — but that’s okay; the real point is the posts by user COMALite J.

Some of you may recall me posting about the Vocal Majority last Christmas. As I said then, I mostly just like their holiday music; their standard work, which is more straight-up barbershop, isn’t as much to my taste. You can’t deny, though, that they are very very good at it — as outlined in COMALite J’s first epic comment, which goes into the scoring and history of the Barbershop Harmony Society’s competitions.

(Side note: dammit! Looks like the Ambassadors of Harmony, who have been on a different gear of the three-year cycle, got beaten by the Westminster Chorus in ’07. Which meant the AoH were able to return for the competition this year — you can’t come back for two years after winning — which meant they faced off against the Vocal Majority for the first time, and the VM took silver for the first time in thirty years. Mope. I wanted them to win. Though at least it was the most epic battle for gold the BHS has ever seen.)

Anyway. If you want to know who to listen to in the field of barbershop quartets and choruses, that’s the comment to check out. If, on the other hand, you’re a music geek on a more technical level, he also posted about the harmonics of barbershop, talking about how Pythagoras led Western music down a path that missed all kinds of other harmonic opportunities, with an added bonus explanation of why proper barbershop has to be performed a capella.

And then, if your interest is more historical, he comes back for a third round, this time about the history of barbershop as a musical form, and how it got co-opted by whites in the thirties, very much to the exclusion of the black performers who started it.

But stop there. Those are pretty much the only comments of any substance whatsoever, and most of the remaining thread is your usual fark-fest of “omg that’s so gay.” What this was doing on Fark in the first place, I don’t know, but it makes for very interesting reading.

134,229.

Finit.

Man, it took me a long time to write that epilogue.

A Star Shall Fall both is and isn’t my longest novel to date. In Ashes Lie clocked in at about 143K in its final draft, but only 129,682 in the first round. I have no idea whether this, too, will be the Amazing Ever-Growing Book when it comes time to revise. That, my friends, is a concern for later.

This is my eleventh novel. I’m pretty pleased with it.

things I have a profound disagreement with

But before I get to the disagreeing: I’ve been so brain-deep in finishing A Star Shall Fall, I overlooked the fact that Podcastle’s audio of “A Heretic by Degrees” has gone live. So go, listen, enjoy.

***

Right, so, the disagreeing.

I find it interesting that Dean Wesley Smith begins this post with the assertion that “No writer is the same” — and then proceeds to make his point (on the topic of rewriting) with such vehemence and absolutism that it could easily be mistaken for divine, universal law. Which is a pity, because I think he has a good point to make; but the force behind it drives the point way deeper than I think it deserves to go, and as a result, people who find themselves disagreeing with the full version may miss the value of the reduced version.

I think he’s right that rewriting can hurt a story. It can polish the fire out, like focus-testing a product until it’s bland pablum that doesn’t offend anybody, but doesn’t interest them, either. Sometimes you get it right the first time.

But. He seems to be arguing (with the force of an evangelical preacher) that your critical brain will never be useful to you as a writer. This works because a particular rhetorical trick:

(more…)

avalanching

5008 words for Labor Day.

It isn’t labor if you love what you’re doing.

Almost done. Almost. It was five thousand because this was the climax; yesterday I wrote the first of the two scenes I’ve been wanting to write since I put together this proposal more than a year ago, and today I wrote the second. Ding, dong, the plot is dead, but the denoument lives on. There’s a bit of work to be done yet — at least one day’s worth, possibly two. We’ll see.

So very nearly done.

Word count: 130,090
LBR census: Blood and love, and some horrible, horrible rhetoric.
Authorial sadism: Memento people know I was never sure which Merriman I was crueler to, Francis or Philip. There’s no Philip Merriman in this story, but Galen’s taken his place. ‘Nuff said.

Entertaining links for a vacation day

Adorable beyond words. Especially the second picture down. (Though the adorability is undercut by the fact that she’s the only female manager in the company.)

In Which Genreville’s Writers are Twelve Years Old. Turning your beloved genre into a series of “your mom” jokes since 2009! (And some “your dad” jokes, too.) The comments get even better.

20 Neil Gaiman Facts. In which Jim Hines wins the Internet. (Again. How does he manage it?)

from last night’s party

Things to add to the list of white privilege:

You can drive across the Mexican border with your dead grandmother stuffed in the trunk of the car, and no one will catch you.

120K, and into Part Seven.

This was a 1670-word night.

Then I went downstairs to empty the dishwasher before I went to bed, and pretty much figured out the Rest of the Book.

I already know the end sequence, more or less; what I didn’t know was everything that’s going to happen between now and then. But I got all those scenes lined up in my head, and then I came back upstairs and wrote another scene, and now am retiring from the field with 2,434 words for the night.

You know you’re nearing the end when this happens. Quotas go out the window, because you’re rolling downhill and won’t really stop until you reach the finish line. I could send Galen to talk to Henry Cavendish tonight, but it’s two a.m. and I’ve got my 120K milestone, which looks nice, and there’s no sense killing myself with marathon sessions — not yet, anyway.

Not until we get to the boom.

Word count: 120,151
LBR census: Blood and love have begun their headlong charge toward one another.
Authorial sadism: It’s a martyr-off! Like a bake-off, but with more people trying to get themselves killed.

entertainment *and* a good cause

I’ve been keeping an interested eye on various crowdfunded projects, because it’s a neat (and sometimes successful) approach to publishing on the internet.

Well, this one’s a little different: Save the Dragons is not just a serialized comic fantasy novel, but fundraising for the author, who is moving from South Africa to Australia. Specifically, it’s fundraising to help him pay the quarantine costs for his family’s pets, so they won’t have to be left behind. That’s right: when you donate, you’re helping save KITTY-CATS AND DOGGIES.

I can vouch for Dave Freer, the author, being above-board. This cause is what he claims. His family is taking a gamble that they can improve their lives in Australia, and they don’t believe in abandoning the four-footed members, even if bringing them adds to the hardship. So it’s a good cause, alongside an entertaining novel. Look at my icon: Puss in Boots wants you to donate. ^_^ Check out the site, see what you think, kick a bit of help his way if you can.

Birthday egotism, 2009 edition.

There’s a tradition in my life I failed to uphold last year, because the moving truck had just shown up in California with our belongings, but I think the decision to skip it was a mistake.

See, there are some things I’m very good at — like being self-critical. Veryvery good at that one. Possibly too good. I’m not so very good at enjoying my own accomplishments without constantly dwelling on “but it didn’t turn out quite as well as I hoped” or “okay, I’ve done A, but not B, C, and D.”

Some years ago I found myself having kind of a crummy birthday, the sort where you dwell morosely on another year gone by without much to show for it. To counteract that gloom, I wrote up an LJ post listing every skill and accomplishment I possessed — and I forbade myself to qualify or belittle or play down any of them. Only good stuff, with nary a negative word. I made myself shove my ego into the spotlight, because sometimes, that’s really what your psyche needs.

I’ve done that every birthday since, except last year. So here’s what I’ve done in the last two years, that I can be proud of.

I’m twenty-nine years old today, and what do I have to show for it?

This.

“You people and your categories.”

As a member of the Outer Alliance, I advocate for queer speculative fiction and those who create, publish and support it, whatever their sexual orientation and gender identity. I make sure this is reflected in my actions and my work.

The Outer Alliance is a recently-launched LGBT organization for speculative fiction. Depending on which bits of the Internet you play around in, you may be seeing that paragraph a lot in the next day or so, as this has been designated a Pride Day to advertise the organization’s existence.

I have to admit, on the whole, I’ve been more an audience for queer spec fic (or fic of any kinds) than a producer of it. A little victory dance happens inside me every time I see this stuff depicted non-pejoratively in media, because that’s at least half the battle: on one hand you pass the laws, and on the other you have Captain Jack Harkness. In the long run, it’s going to be the kids who grew up watching TV shows and movies and reading books and comics where queerness is accepted who really win the war. Queerness will look about as transgressive to them as women wearing pants does to us.

But of course somebody has to produce those texts, and homosexuality (let alone transgenderism etc) is still pretty thinly represented in SF/F. I’ve done a bit of it, though not enough. Deeds of Men was the cause of my favorite crit-group statement ever: “The sodomy was good!” “A Mask of Flesh” features a xera, a being that actually changes sex based on its long-term mood; there’s another one in “Chrysalis,” set in the same world, who has attained a state of spiritual balance, such that ome exists as a bilateral hermaphrodite. Unfortunately, “Chrysalis” is indicative of most of my other queer-content stories, in that it’s currently awaiting revision before I can send it out. “Love, Cayce” includes a lesbian relationship at one point, and “Remembering Light” confirms something hinted at in “Driftwood,” which is that Last has had relationships with other men. (The broader truth is that, when you’re the only survivor of your world for untold yonks of time, you have lots of relationships of all kinds. He’s no Jack Harkness, sleeping with anything that will stop long enough for him to smile at it/her/him/them/other, but he’s gotten around.)

Basically, this is something that has gotten onto my radar in the relatively recent past, and I’m trying to incorporate it into my work, but I’m producing fewer short stories than I used to and a bunch of the ones I have written aren’t on the market right now, which means the effect of me thinking about it isn’t very visible yet. Still, it’s better than the nothing I had before. And if you follow that top link, you’ll find a post with a kisquillion links to other people’s work, many of them more prolific than I am.

two things

Last call to win free magazines; you have until the end of the day tomorrow, September 1st.

Also, sundell.net is back up, so if you’re accustomed to e-mailing me there, you can go back to doing so.

inquring minds don’t want to find out first-hand

Dear LiveJournals,

Have you ever been punched in the face? I mean, really punched in the face, not just your brother smacking you one when you were five?

What was it like?

I kind of need to know the subjective experience of realio trulio being decked (or otherwise struck — I suppose a car dashboard or the like would also do) so I can describe it properly, and while I will taste gin for this book, I will not court concussion for it.

Thanks,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Novelist

the avalanche has started

Word count: 110,810
LBR census: Ladies and gentlemen, THE BLOOD HAS ARRIVED.
Authorial sadism: I’ve been looking forward to writing this bit for four months now. I’m pretty sure that makes me a Bad Person.

***

There’s nothing I can say at this point that wouldn’t constitute a spoiler. Except that we’ve hit the fun part.

Fun for me, anyway. My characters might beg to differ.

important e-mail note

Sundell.net is down, so I can’t access that e-mail account at the moment. And it may stay that way for a few days. This is, among other things, the address my LJ comment notifications go to, so I won’t be alerted if you respond to anything I’ve said here or on someone else’s post. (I could switch it over, but eh. I just know as soon as I jump through that hoop, sundell.net will come back up and I’ll have to jump through it again.)

(On second thought, that might be a good way to fix the problem . . . .)

If you need to get in touch with me about anything important or time-critical, e-mail marie dot brennan at g mail dot com instead.

on the topic of history education

In light of my earlier rant about post-Reconstruction history education (especially in Texas), I now kind of want to slam my head into a wall until the pain goes away.

The snarky response here, of course, is that it hardly matters what the standards are, since the students will never make it past Reconstruction anyway. But snark aside . . . it’s enough to make me cry blood.

I love my home state, but in the way one loves a child that really needs to be sent to reform school for its own good.

my own version of the Bechdel Test

If a scene in a novel of mine a) has at least two female characters in it, and b) they talk to each other, then c) odds are apparently quite high that they’re talking about politics.

Srsly, girls — can’t you find something else to occupy yourselves?

more on free fiction

Reminder: you have until September 1st to toss your name into the hat to win a free magazine.

Since this has come up in e-mail, let me add that I’ll do what I can to match winners with appropriate magazines. If you already own one of those issues and have no need of a second copy, or there’s a story you reallyreallyreally want to read, let me know, and I’ll try to accommodate that as much as is feasible.

(Also — though no one has asked this directly — the thing you post doesn’t have to be gushing fansquee. You’re perfectly welcome to argue with my writing, too.)

Back to the salt mines I go.