Archive for 'The STOOPID'
Wednesday, April 30th, 2014
Love triangles in books used to just sort of annoy me, but now I am actively becoming resentful and angry at them and they will cause me to not read a book. So far, this seems to be the case in UF and paranormal romance, but less so in epic fantasy. I’m not sure if this is because epic fantasy broadens the scope of the story to include a larger variety of characters and events, or if it’s because I’m running across it less there. Doesn’t matter. The point is that I’m not real fond of them at the moment and I want to talk about why. This about me and how I approach them as reader, not a general rule for readers. YMMV. Plus I’ve certainly read triangles that I’ve enjoyed, but in general, right now, they make me want to puke.
I started noticing I was putting down novels quickly that had any sort of a love triangle and I began to ask myself why. What’s the problem with them? I think a great deal of it feels disingenuous. Like I’m being deliberately lied to. That’s strange, because what is fiction but a deliberate lie? This is different, though. I felt that the author was deliberately manipulating me to like two characters, knowing only one could get chosen, or luring me to like one character that eventually would turn out to be an ass, while I was supposed to hate the jerk who would eventually become the hero. The author, of course, knows that she’s misleading the reader, pushing me to sympathize with one character only to pull the rug out from me later.
So the second part of the problem for me, aside from feeling manipulated, is that I can’t invest in the characters. Not any of them. Because the central female or male who must choose, is going to be as mislead as me, and then the other two are not at all what they seem and sooner or later I’m going to find out why one is redeemable and the other is not. For variation, the one that is supposed to turn into the total ass may turn out to be the one redeemed, but essentially, one must be an ass and one must be the love interest. But if I care about one and he turns into a bastard, I feel cheated and like I never should have cared. So I start to read with less empathy for the characters and quickly I lose interest in them because I simply cannot force myself to care. Instead I’d rather go read something else.
Does anybody get irritated by it? I don’t mind when a relationship seems to sour because a new person shows up and it’s a natural progression, and I see why the change happens in the feelings and the rug doesn’t get pulled out where original romantic interest suddenly turns into a monster. People change and fall in and out of love and relationships. I just hate it when it feels like I’ve been tricked.
Sunday, August 11th, 2013
We went shopping today for shorts for my husband. We were on the way out when this man came into the store. He was large. He wore his shorts cinched very low beneath a large gut and his shirt only came down about 3/4 the way, exposing a lot of skin of the stomach and a fair bit on the crack side too. Now here’s the thing. A lot of men do this thing where their “waist size never changes.” Only it does. But they never buy bigger clothing, they just push the clothes further down and cinch them lower on the hips to let the stomach have its fleshy way. So I ask my husband, why didn’t the man buy a bigger shirt? His response was first, the man can’t see the gap because his stomach is blocking the way (har har) and apparently the guy has no mirror. But more than that, he’s probably had that shirt for twenty years and as far as he’s concerned, it fits just as well now as it did then.
Let me tell you: it doesn’t. My FIL used to do this (he’s lost weight for health reasons, but never changed his sizes). For a long time he did the exact same thing and let me tell you, I didn’t want to be behind him or in front of him. I didn’t really need to be seeing the parts of him I was exposed to. I have to wonder, do men think that they hit a certain size and it can never ever change? They will never gain or lose weight? Never get a gut? Am I the only one who notices?
Wednesday, August 7th, 2013
I always have psychological trouble with beginnings. Even though I KNOW it’s not set in stone and that I’ll go back and revise it and probably it will vanish forever and be replaced with something else, I always have trouble overcoming my subconscious sense that this is it, the only beginning and it must be good. Great. It must be spectacular!
Yeah, so anyhow, I’m working on a beginning. I actually have the beginning and I’m hoping it will be enough that I can continue on smoothly. We bought a ceiling fan for my office, which, once installed, should make it much easier to get work done.
And I’ll have news shortly for you (really happy news) and so I’ll leave you with this snippet.
He looked back at us. Something moved across his expression as the overhead light faded slowly. He slowly set his gun on the console. The threat was clear.
“One more thing. I want to know what you aren’t telling me. Right now.” But he looked at me, not at Taylor.
I didn’t blink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I didn’t either. I mean, I was hiding everything I could from him. How was I supposed to know what exactly had set off his radar?
Friday, May 31st, 2013
Apparently if you spend a day digging and shaking out dirt and crystals, you will be sore. Back, arms, legs . . . sore. Who knew?
Tuesday, April 30th, 2013
Got an email from a colleague tonight, which speaks to the title of this post. I won’t say anything about its content here, except what’s in the title, but I have to say I’m struggling with a reply. Which is to say, I’m struggling with not answering. Because frankly, there’s little point. It’s a lot like discovering that the Internet is WRONG and MUST BE CORRECTED. Banging a head on the wall, which only hurts my head. I’m taking note that Karma will take a bite out of his/her ass and trying to push it out of my head. I should note that the email was not to me, but the whole department.
And so, focusing on me and my writing, A snippet from my WIP
Taryn jerked awake, heart hammering against her ribs. She leaped up from her sewing table and stumbled over the piles of fabric surrounding her chair. She caught herself with a hand on the table and froze, her skin prickling. She strained to hear sounds of an intruder, but the thud of her blood through her veins drowned out all else. Her gaze darted across the cavernous room, searching the shadows at the far end where her sewing light didn’t reach.
Misty red and blue light pulsed through the space, turning the massed humps of clothing and fabric crowding the room to threatening monsters. She shivered and straightened her spine indignantly, spidering her fingers across her table to find her shears. Her jaw jutted furiously. This was her house and she’d be damned if she’d let some possum-faced coward slink about in the middle of the night and intimidate her in her own home.