Sci-Fi and Eggplant

What do the two have in common? People who have never tried it tend to turn their noses up at it. I have a theory: it's all in the name. If I call it "speculative fiction," then the instant mental image isn't of aliens and spaceships, just like if I call it an "aubergine," that sounds exotic and French and yummy, right?

A lot of my work falls into that weird slipstream category where it isn't quite Sci-Fi, but it isn't just non-genre contemporary fiction either. Oh, and I like eggplant. They have this great baked eggplant with sundried tomatoes on sourdough thing over at 2nd City and... wait, I'm talking about books now. Lunch was just really good, and it was definitely hearty, stick-to-your-ribs eggplant, not fancy, frilly aubergine.

Anyway, I'm guilty of speculative-fictioning my own work because I feel like a giant dork when I call it Urban Fantasy, even though that's what it is. My biggest fiction project, which will commence at midnight as I've saved it for NaNoWriMo, is definitely a fantastical story taking place in a real-world setting. By definition, that's Urban Fantasy and yet, when people outside my circle of geeks friends ask what kind of book I'm working on, I suddenly become acutely aware that I am the nerd who says things like "these aren't the droids you're looking for" without first checking to see if I'm among people who have even seen Star Wars, and so I say "Speculative Fiction."

One of Bill Maher's New Rules is, "call things what they are." So, in the spirit of that rule and in honor of NaNoWriMo-eve, I will hold my chin up high and announce that my novel, titled On the Wings of the Night, is Urban Fantasy.

Now, you can go about your business. Move along. Have the eggplant.

I've been tagged!

I've been prompted by Melissa to tell you seven random/weird facts about me:

1. I hate to be wet. Aside from the obvious, necessary personal hygeine, I only make one or two exceptions a year to go swimming if it's really hot outside. The only thing worse than being wet is being cold and wet.

2. I am allergic to guinea pigs--not rabbits, mice, hamsters or any other rodents I've encountered, but learned the anaphylactic way that guinea pigs are not my friends.

3. I started off as a music major at Christopher Newport University (principal instrument cello) and ended up with a B.A. in English/Professional Writing from Old Dominion.

4. I am exactly six feet tall and have no talent whatsoever for basketball or volleyball.

5. I have nearly 30 first cousins and after trying just now, can name 21 off the top of my head.

6. I don't eat red meat. There's no deeper reason than simply losing the taste for it after working a fast food job in high school.

7. I love technology when it comes to communication and media (definitely addicted to my iPod), but am practically a Luddite concerning writing. I love to send actual letters (though my local branch of the postal service is adept at mangling and misdirecting things); I write first drafts of stories with a fountain pen; I print out things I have to edit so I can mark it up. This does tend to create more work, but it's a lot easier to carry a notebook than a laptop, and there's just something satisfying about holding the pen and seeing my words come out of it to stain the paper in whatever color I've chosen.

Anyone who wants can consider themselves tagged. I don't usually do these chain-lettery things, but thought this was kind of a neat getting-to-know-you exercise.

One of the guys

I feel really fortunate in the diverse group of people who have chosen to be in my life.  Sometimes, they come and go, but sometimes they stick around.  One thing I've learned from this is what it's like to be the token female in a group of male friends.  This tends to go one of two ways (for the most part):
1. I am one of the guys.  I scream at the goaltender when he lets the puck past his glove in overtime.  I show my battlescars gotten from mishaps changing motorcycle sparkplugs or in one case, an unfortunate incident involving a peanut butter sandwich and a George Foreman grill.  In this scenario, I do not bring up Jane Austen, the Indigo Girls, or anything else that emphasizes my second X-chromosome.

2. I am the oracle into the deep, dark mysteries of womanhood.  Because I have little shame left and will answer candidly, I have been asked everything from "so, what exactly is a hope chest, anyway?" to what seems to be the burning question on the mind of every guy I know lately, which is, "do women have to suffer through anything like the indignity of a prostate check?"

Seriously, guys?  You do know where babies come from, yes? 

Maybe it's because I had that conversation three times in the past week, but the last guy (who really is one of my favorite people to ever have lived), got a little extra information for his trouble when he asked.  I explained to him in the gentlest terms possible that no, men are not alone in their suffering, but then informed him that there is at least one thing that no man will ever truly be able to grasp the full scope and horror of.  I leaned in close across the table where we were sitting and lowered my voice.  We were in public, after all.  My friend, who is by no means sheltered or virginal, braced his hands on the table and sat in wide-eyed preparation for the shock of his life. 

I'll admit to letting him stew an extra couple of seconds before I took a deep breath, took one last look around for eavesdroppers, and said, "Okay, so you're not going to believe this... but some GYN's, at least the ones I've been to, and you can ask any woman you know and they'll corroborate this... they actually... tape pictures on the ceiling right over the patient's head!  Do you know how mortifying it is to be there and staring right into the face of Brad Pitt!?"

He about fell out of his chair.

grown ups, or not

My baby brother turns 21 on Sunday. That makes me feel old.
I am wracked with guilt over having to tell my mom when she asked that I couldn't visit this weekend. That makes me feel like a little kid.

My cousin, who is about the same age as my brother, is now old enough to have had to learn lots of lessons the hard way. She's a tough cookie, but I hate what she's had to go through because some thoughtless dirtbag took advantage of her kind nature and forgiving soul. This is where I step briefly on a soapbox because this makes me feel old, and tired, and angry. This is the same little girl I used to sign out of school to take her on a hayride to pick out her Halloween pumpkin, except now she's a woman and so far her experiences in her brief tenure as a grown-up make me want to just go back in time, kidnap her, and take her off to Antarctica to insulate her from ever learning the scarier truths of the adult world.

Physical assault is not acceptable, period.
Yes, I enjoy kickboxing, but only in a controlled environment with consenting adults who have all signed the waiver. Furthermore, while I don't negatively judge those who choose to compete in a martial art, I don't fight; I just train for the discipline, the workout, and the ability to defend myself.

If you are female, I highly suggest at least taking a basic self-defense class. My friend Chip, who teaches self-defense and rape prevention classes, outlines the reasons why here on the Bushido Judo School's website. Over the past couple of years, I've taken the intro class twice, along with more advanced classes focusing on defense against firearms, defense against edged weapons, ground fighting, and defense in confined spaces (elevators, cars, buses, etc.). If you have the opportunity, just take a class. What you'll walk away with is well worth the hour of your time and $15 or so in tuition.

If you're not in the Raleigh area, the Association for Women's Self Defense Advancement (formerly the American Women's Self Defense Association) offers a wealth of information for the United States, as well as Canada, Germany, the United Kingdom, and Zimbabwe. Note, I'm not getting any kickbacks for plugging AWSDA or those classes.

If you are male and you don't participate in violence against women, good on ya! Keep it up and don't tolerate it or joke about it. There's information on the above-named sites for you, too if you want to learn more and do more.

I suppose I should mention that I'm opposed to violence in general, not just when it concerns women. I think it's great if a guy says "I don't hit girls," but think it'd be better if he said, "I don't hit people." I don't think it's acceptable for a woman to assault a man for that matter, or another woman. I think if we all did just a little more to end violence in our own lives, the impact could be epic.