Tag: Current Events

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othering others

When I first started writing the story that would become the Shades and Shadows series, I began with the idea that as a nation, the United States had a tendency to not only other people, but to foist our fears and anger onto those others and I followed it through to what I thought could be the outcome, if ever it were discovered that there were people who could heal and kill with some kind of power that we normal folk didn’t have.

But once I’d gotten the story written, albeit in a much shorter form than it exists today, I looked at where the political aspect of the story had gone as a result of that original premise and I considered it to be too unbelievable.  I looked at where we were at the time, where we had a person of color in our highest office and we had abolished (in theory at least) the othering of LGBT people and women were making gains politically and otherwise.  I thought to myself, who is going to believe a story that takes all of that away now, shoves it into a dark corner and returns us to the darkness of our own past?

I set the story aside, and went on to work on other things.

It wasn’t until the election in 2016 that I realized I was wrong, and that the othering hadn’t stopped at all, in fact for some of our US citizens, othering was still the lens through which they saw the world and those others were where they laid the blame for everything that they thought was wrong with their lives.

Since the release of Through Shade and Shadow, so much has happened that makes the politics in this series nearly pale in comparison.  This saddens me in many ways.

I hope we, as a nation, can navigate our way through this hurricane and come out stronger and better on the other side.

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not all inspiration is inspirational

Image by PETEWILL VIA GETTY IMAGES

Today, as  I was walking to work I was noticing that there were a larger number of homeless than I am accustomed to seeing.  All of the “regulars” were around, and I checked in with those I’ve been friendly with, at least by eye contact, as I generally do.

When I heard yelling across the street, I looked up, slowed my steps.  I wasn’t alone in wanting to know what was causing the ruckus, several other pedestrians slowed their steps or stopped, necks craning to try to see around the large truck blocking the view.

The truck had a sign on the side that said something like “The Clean Team” and there were about ten men (I couldn’t tell their ages from my vantage point) who seemed to be trying to roust a homeless couple who had been sleeping in a store doorway.  The woman was very upset and yelling.  The men made fun of her, and she got angrier (obviously).

I watched for a long few minutes, phone in hand, prepared to call for help if things got physical, which seemed likely when the male half of the couple stood up and tried to intervene.  I couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed as if he calmed her enough and convinced her that they should just gather their belongings and move on.

A few blocks up the road, one of the regular street cleaner guys was using a far gentler approach with one of the regulars that I’ve offered coffee and breakfast to on occasion.  Down every side street and alley, in doorways and on the curbs, homeless people were being forced to get up and move, as if there was anywhere else for them to go.

It made me wonder when we turned our street cleaning people away from picking up trash and cleaning graffiti and started tasking them with homeless duty…when did we decide that our homeless were little more than garbage, with no more value than a cigarette butt or empty food container?

I felt a little hopeless as I climbed the hill toward my office, a little stifled under the privilege of who I am.

As with all things, the whole scene is already percolating in the back of my brain, trying to decide where it fits in current writing projects, or how it might inspire a new one to come.

Until then, remember that Forever is only 99 cents on Kindle, through July 16th.

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it was a day

So, this weekend was the Bay Area Book Fair, and I had one of the individual author’s tables.  My agoraphobia was racing, my nerves were dancing.  I gave serious thought to not going.  But in the end, my determination beat my agoraphobia again and I set off with a big bag of books, got on BART and headed to Berkeley.

I got there fairly early, and found my spot, got set up, and then  watched as the various vendors and authors came in and did the same.  Couldn’t have asked for nicer weather, except maybe a little less wind.

I wish the same could be said of sales. I sold a few books, but didn’t even break even to cover the cost of the table and umbrella rental.  I did, however, meet some very interesting people, from fellow authors to publicists, parents of students wanting to write, book lovers, etc.

Part of the issue felt a little like isolation.  The bulk of the festival is held in the park, while we were off on a side street with a good amount of distance between us and the first booth in the park.  None of the authors in my immediate vicinity sold much, though the author to my right with his epic fantasy novel sold at least twice as many books as I did.

I’ll admit, I’m thinking about contacting the publicist I met and see what their services run price wise.  It’s that part of this business that I suck so badly at.

But, now that is over and it’s back to the day job.  I hope all of you have a great week!

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and just like that, it’s June

I’m not really sure where January, February, March, April and May have all gotten themselves off to, but I hope they’re having fun.  It seems like just a day or two ago I was struggling to remember to write 2017 on things instead of 2016 (or the inexplicable occasions where I wrote 1996….what?), and here we are on the first of June.

We sent May out with a bang though.  My niece graduated high school on Tuesday.  She is the youngest of my brother’s kids, and I couldn’t be more proud of the woman she is becoming.  The school she graduated from is one of the top 1% of schools in the country and her classmates are all amazing students, most of whom will be attending four year universities and colleges in the fall.

I got back from all of that frivolity last night, and when I woke up this morning it was June.  Already, my calendar is jam packed for the month.

babf_logoStarting this weekend when I will be at the Bay Area Book Festival in Berkeley, California signing (and selling) books.  I will have copies of my two novels, Forever and Through Shade and Shadow as well as my small collection of poetry.  Sale pricing is $12 each for the novels and $2.50 for the poetry collection.

I can take cash, credit cards and paypal.  It should be a fun day for the whole family.  With all of the vendors and authors, there should be something for everyone!

San Francisco Pride is at the end of the month, for a completely different festival to bookend the month.  Pride likewise has something for just about everyone.  If you come out to one or both days of Pride remember to wear sunscreen, dress in layers, wear comfortable shoes, and please consider dropping a dollar (or more) into one of those pink buckets.  Every penny goes to support the organization that creates the festival and/or the organizations that take care of our community.

Somewhere between those bookends, I will be taking a couple of days to head out to Yosemite with my mother, to enjoy some nature and some truly breathtaking views, like this one, which I took on my last trip to Yosemite in 2010.

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But for now, I should go pour my second cup of coffee and get to working the day job.  Hope you all have a pleasant day!

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when our hearts hurt

I saw the news last night, just as I was going to bed.  I couldn’t process it.  The idea that someone targeted children, that someone hated with such violence that they would purposely walk into a crowd of children to detonate a device that would maim and kill seemed impossible, not believable.

So much of our “news” these days is filled with hyperbole and false fire, used as a tactic to win the attention of our click-baited fingers and eyes, that something like this gives you pause.  You have to read and re-read to be sure that what you’re seeing is true and not another exaggerated half-story filled with half-truths and creative lies.

But then, when you get past the shock, get past the disbelief, what is left?

Pain.  Heartbreak.  And if those of us who were not there, those of us who don’t know anyone who was there feel these things, how much worse must it be for those who survived, those who were there and somehow walked out on their own two feet, those who dropped off their children earlier in the evening, only to never see them again?

This is what comes when our governments foster hatred and subsidize xenophobia. The hate spreads out, like a disease.  It foments and ferments.  It grows and eats into the hearts of those who incubate it.

My heart burns with the loss.