Feminist Character Struggle

While procrastinating my work today, I stumbled across something on Tumblr.

http://gingerhaze.tumblr.com/post/52252821543/feminspire-alyssakorea-tumbling-over-the

It struck a bit of a chord with me because I've been struggling with this same dilemma. I'm writing a science fiction story centered around a war. However, though the military features significantly in my story with several characters having military backgrounds and interacting with various battles across the plot, it is not military fiction. It is a story about a cast of characters thrown into difficult circumstances and how they manage to balance their own needs and desires and the needs of the worlds around them.

It's a very character driven story, but it is very much science fiction. Aside from the obvious signposts of multiple planets and space travel, the science of this universe plays very heavily in the story. I spent nearly a full year learning the basics of physics in order to build a system of space travel that seems possible. In the past few weeks a good friend of mine helped by building accurate stats for my planets including escape velocities relative to the planets' masses, the orbital periods, length of rotations, and more. It's a character story with many of the key elements of hard science fiction.

Still, as a woman writing for a largely male-dominated field, I have to consider how much of what I'm writing will be perceived. I want my female characters to be strong, independent, and utterly competent, but how one goes about that can be difficult in this genre.

The temptation for a lot of writers is to write strong women as indistinguishable from men. They write their women scientists and engineers as identical to men. If a man wouldn't say a certain thing or be treated in a certain way or portrayed in a certain light then they don't portray their women that way. But is that right?

My struggle falls in line with the second panel of that comic. If I make my women strong am I somehow implying that traditionally "feminine" features are negative? For instance, my main character is a woman. She is a pilot, an incredibly brilliant woman who does her job well and isn't distracted by concerns about romance or friend drama. She sleeps with who she wants to, has no desire in being a mother, and has a tendency to be emotionally distant. She also has severe insecurity when it comes to her past and an incident that has haunted her for years. The one time (so far) that she breaks down and lets anyone see a glimpse in her armor, she is immediately seen as fragile and in need of comfort and protection. In fact, several of the males in the story have protective feelings toward her.

Is this because she's a woman? Am I inadvertently contributing to the weakening of this character and the relegation of her to someone needing protection from the men in her life?

I don't think so, because, for one, she is just as likely (or more so) to come to the rescue as anyone else in the cast. She is strong, competent, and fiercely loyal. She takes the lead, can be combative, and is an agent of the plot rather than its object or victim.



She's also not the only female on the cast that is like that. On the ship are three very different women:. And then I introduce another. The fourth woman, a mercenary, may look to fit the trope of the warrior woman, but with a name like "Millie," an effervescent personality, a love of cooking, and a girl-next-door look, she's hardly the standard action girl. So how do I write them and not fall into the trap of writing tropes instead of people? How do I make strong women without decrying "feminine" traits or eliminating them altogether?

Of course, I go through similar processes with my male characters, so I guess I avoid the trap of the third panel. My suave primary male character is constantly trying to prove himself and has a fear of ending up alone even as he pushes people away. My other leading man is loyal and protective and incredibly kind, but for most of the time, that's a problem. He is too used to playing second fiddle and doubts himself. There's a warrior male, too. Stoic, intimidating, gruff. Am I falling into trope categories with these characters, too? Are the limited in who they are and am I failing as a writer?

Then I remind myself to just keep writing, and let the characters grow and change. They each have their own motivations. If I stay true to those, who cares if I'm writing characters that are female or male, feminist or traditional? They'll be real, and they'll be honest. In the end, I think that's what matters.

We're All Leading Players

Yesterday I watched the reunion show for Project Runway. Typically these reunion shows are a way for producers to eke out just a bit more drama from their cast of players with low production costs. They show recaps, poke some open wounds, and spend a lot of time asking the cast members how it makes them feel.

During the show, though, I noticed a phrase repeated continuously. "My journey." They kept thanking the other contestants for being a part of their journey. How they felt this was such an important part of their journey. That even if they didn't compete as well as they hoped, they were so thankful for their development in their journey.

Every single one of them was talking as if they were the lead roles in their own stories.

That's how they see themselves. 

It's how most of us see ourselves. 

In The Culture of Narcissism by Christopher Lasch, he describes a unique phenomenon that occurs in modern Americans. Because we are uniquely separated from our past, our histories, our communities, we all seek to feel significant in our own selves. A desire to stand completely apart from others and declare that "I am important." We are all engaged in these "private performances" and trying to develop what Emerson called "an original relation to the universe."

Lasch wrote of this phenomenon in the 1970s, but if anything it's more true now. Each of us is desperate to be the stars of our own lives, but in order to make that performance authentic, it has to be recognized by everyone else. With social media, reality tv, and -- dare I say?-- blogs, it's all too easy to position ourselves for the recognition we think we deserve. We are poised to make ourselves the center of everyone's understanding of ourselves instead of positioning ourselves in the context of history, society, family, or anything else that might embed us in something other than individualism.

We demand recognition. As Chuck Palahniuk wrote in Fight Club, "We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off." Each of the designers who didn't win the big prize was shocked to find that the show wasn't about them and their journey, and you could watch them struggle with that in real time. 

As a writer, I struggle with this daily. The number one piece of advice writers get is to put themselves into the story and to write what they know. Well, guess what? I make a lousy lead player. I spend my life behind a computer screen and homemaking for my family. My life is simple and happy and utterly boring. No one wants to read about me or what I know! 

Yet, time and again, I find myself modeling characters off of myself. I think, "what would I do in this situation?" Or "how would I react?" 

At least at first.

Thank the gods they never remain so simple. Within a few pages, my characters tend to do the opposite of what I would do. By the time they're thrown into the plot, they take on their own lives, and I can torture them from a distance.They grow, they become something else, and I spend as much time as possible trying to distance myself from these crazy lunatics who are running towards the fire instead of away. 

Still I wonder. Is it a bad thing that we're so often the leading players in our own stories? Should we attempt (as I find myself doing quite frequently) to be a better supporting character? Are our lives and the lives of others made better by sometimes viewing ourselves as the leading man's best friend? Or maybe even the villain?

Words Matter

Words matter.

I truly believe that. It's one of the principles upon which I live my life. I know that the right words used in the right context can change the world when deployed correctly.

It's just sometimes hard to believe that my words matter.

I find it so easy to neglect my writing. If I'm only writing for myself, or ranting away into an unhearing void, then what obligations can I have to maintain my blog?

I tell myself that no one really cares what I have to say. That my words don't matter yet.

I don't think I can say that anymore.

This morning I received one of the most meaningful emails of my life. A friend and former coworker of mine told me that my words had actually made a difference, that something I had written changed her perspective on an issue and gave voice to things she had trouble saying herself.

"Your writing matters .... You're making a difference."

I don't think there are any better things you can say to a writer.

Guess I'm out of excuses.

NaNoWriMo

In case you don't actually know  more or haven't spoken to me in more than a week, today started National Novel Writing Month, known affectionately as NaNoWriMo. During the month of November, writers are encouraged to take on the impossible/insane/fruitless task of writing 50,000 words in 30 days. Every year hundreds of thousands of people across the country and around the world attempt this task, and every year hundreds of thousands fail while some tens of thousands manage to produce 50,000 words that must be edited, proofread, or completely rewritten before anything comes of them.

Every year for the past 4 or 5, I have participated in this exercise in insanity, and only once have I succeeded in writing the full 50,000. Granted, I write more than that on a fairly regular basis these days. Every week I have work assignments that fall between 10,000 and 20,000 words, and I write regularly on my novel and various blogs and journalling projects that are designed to keep my writing muscles flexed. So one would think that 50,000 words would be nothing.

Ha!

HA! I say to you smug know-it-alls who have never attempted such a task. NaNoWriMo regularly kicks my sorry ass and proves to me that there's a reason I'm an aspiring novelist instead of a published one. Writing 50,000 words on a single manuscript inside of a month requires the creative juices that most muses will never bestow. It requires determination beyond even what is required to finish a graduate degree. And try doing both at the same time! (Actually, don't. There is probably a good reason I quit the program that year.)

Make no mistake. NaNoWriMo is intense. More people fail this task than fail to make it to the gym every week in January. More fail to write 50,000 words than fail to count their calories every day for a full week.

It's hard.

But it's also inspiring. I've spent the last two or three weeks preparing myself for this mad sprint, readying my plots and character ideas, figuring out where my novel wants to go so that I was ready to hit the ground running. Just these few weeks of intense preparation and brainstorming have allowed me to accomplish more of my writing goals than anything else this year. Last night, when NaNoWriMo launched at midnight, I was actually able to write almost 5,000 new words, finishing my first chapter and beginning my second. I haven't done that much work on the damn thing since I started writing this story over the summer.

If you have any task you've been dying to accomplish but have lacked the motivation and system of deadlines that would allow you to actually accomplish it, I encourage you to use NaNoWriMo as a template. You don't have to write 50,000 words. You don't have to write at all. November can be your month for accomplishing impossible tasks. Take on a new challenge. Have you wanted to knit all of your friends scarves for Christmas? November is perfect for that. Want to learn a new language? Become conversant by December 1st.

My husband is actually joining me this November with his own project. He's creating a graphic novel based on the Decemberists album Hazards of Love and he's documenting the endeavor at http://jameshazards.blogspot.com/. I'm so excited that he's joining me on this journey, and I really hope he keeps with it. I think that by having both of us setting these impossible goals, we'll be able to hold each other to it. He'll encourage me to get my writing done instead of finishing up the latest season of The Borgias, and I'll make sure he sticks to his goals instead of playing another season of FIFA.

Now, because I know I"m using this blog entry for procrastination from getting into Chapter 2, I should wrap up. Wish us luck! And go and encourage James in his project as well. I'm looking forward to seeing what he comes up with. :)

Science in Science Fiction

My current work in progress is actually my first foray into real hard science fiction. Usually I prefer writing urban fantasy and fantasy, because there's so much less research involved, and frankly I read a lot more urban fantasy than I do science fiction. However, earlier this year, I decided I wanted to write a space opera about a group of individuals in the middle of an interstellar war.

Since I know little about war and even less about physics, that meant I had to do a lot of research. I'm basing a lot of my political climate and structure of the war on the events and intricacies of World War I, making that part of the novel much easier to write.

My trouble was with the physics. You see, if I'm going to even read science fiction, I want to have it fit together in a plausible and workable way. No hand-waving and warp drives for me unless they're grounded in some actual theories and research. So in developing my world, I've had to understand a number of things about the possibility of anti-gravity, propulsion systems for quick space flight, and even the bending of space time for warp drives in order to make interstellar flight even possible.

I've been reading all sorts of stuff, fitting together recent discoveries at the Large Hadron Collider with basic understanding of gravitational forces and magnetic propulsion systems. Richard Feynman and Frank Wilczek have been my gurus, and I've been peppering my science-minded friends with questions about spin, mass, and charge in order to develop a realistic and potentially workable theory of anti-gravity and propulsion.

Over the past few weeks I thought I had a brilliant idea about using energy to animate a special kind of matter or condensate. The matter would in turn either behave as though it had much greater mass and attract bodies to it in a way comparative to gravitational pull, or it would behave in the opposite way, pushing an anti-gravity force against the gravitational fields of other objects. This matter would then form the basis for both gravity systems on spaceships and as a propulsion system to navigate through space by pushing and pulling on nearby large interstellar bodies.

This was all a theory, until today.

While reading up on a science fiction writers' forum, I found evidence that my brilliant theory could work with some research that is actually currently being explored by Eagleworks Laboratories and NASA. Using vacuum particles and anti-particles that pop into and out of existence in the Quantum vacuum that occupies space-time, scientists theorize that they could develop a propulsion system that actually propels against the vacuum condensate itself.

I think that if I can extrapolate further, the theories on vacuum fluctuation density could be used as a gravitic force as I've theorized it. With the right energy levels, the density of the Bosons and virtual particles could become both an independent energy source, and enable manipulation of weak and strong force, giving us both means of both pushing and pulling matter against other matter.

What do you think?

Enough with the Confessional Posts

Apparently drunk Sara vacillates wildly between agnostic and lost to disgustingly sentimental. But at least she's consistently confessional.

I really need to set up a block on Blogger that keeps me from posting under certain conditions. That would stop the rambling stream of consciousness postings that I keep delivering here.

So, my apologies. I'll try to limit the rambling confessional posts a bit. Maybe then I can come up with some actually interesting things to write about.

Other Work

Finally got the epic postings up on my political blog. If you're at all interested, it covers exactly why I cannot bring myself to vote for "the lesser of two evils" with either the Democrat or Republican party, especially with their current two offerings. It also explains why I am voting for Gary Johnson, who I believe embodies my own values and who abhors the other two tickets for the same reasons I do. You can find my political blog at The Sane Libertarian.

In other news, writing like a fiend! I tweeted last night how I know perfectly well that writing is a process of creation, and that I am in control of my characters and the events that happen in my book. Yet, when everything works, when the magic flows, and when the writing just fits, it always feels more like a process of discovery. There's nothing quite like this feeling of uncovering the secrets of a world, especially when that world currently exists nowhere but in your own head.

Creation is exhilarating. I can't imagine doing anything else.

Nominating My Husband for Sainthood

Ha.

I should absolutely know better.

No sooner do I announce my intentions to rededicate myself to writing with an eye to the future, but the present comes crashing down. This morning my husband's car died in a most spectacular fashion. His was supposed to be the reliable car (in light of my car's own consistent stalling/electrical problems). And the clutch basically collapsed, luckily before he got out of the parking lot at our apartment.

It looks like it's going to cost almost 2/3 the car's actual value to fix it.

He took my car in to work, and we evaluated our options.

So today, instead of writing, instead of going to the gym, instead of all my grand plans, we dealt with life.

This is probably my fault. I set a plan to be completely selfish with my artistic endeavors, and I, of course, generate a cosmic road block that says: "Not so fast!"

However, now that I sit to think about it, it's infinitely appropriate. No writer that I have ever heard of or known has had the chance to sit back and luxuriate in the privilege of writing. Not until they've sacrificed and waited and toiled for the privilege.

I've had it easy.

My husband has been so wonderful in encouraging me to pursue my dreams. He actually asked me not to get a full time job, but to concentrate on those things that make me happy, to pursue a career as a writer, even if that meant that we gave up the guaranteed second income.

Frankly, we've really made that work. We've excelled even. We may pay a little too much for rent right now, but we enjoyed dinners and drinks out with friends, trips out of town, expensive gym memberships, and very little sacrifice, all on a single income. Sure I brought in a few handfuls at a time. My work in politics helped  a lot with that, actually.

To have the chance to do almost nothing but work on my own vanity projects and creative endeavors with no immediate hope of monetary return was a luxury. One that I really don't deserve and haven't earned yet.

But I will.

We have to figure out how to fix this car with very little in savings and still find a way to move into a new place in about two months. That means we have to come up with a few thousand dollars out of the blue to pay for the necessity of this car and a deposit on a new place while we wait for our current place to cough up our security deposit in the three month time limit they have under the law. It's not going to be easy, but I'm going to take on extra writing for pay, maybe look at a part time job, and cut back on a few extravagances we've enjoyed in the past few months.

That's right. Because of my husband, the saint, I barely have to give up a thing.

I don't know if you know how incredibly amazingly lucky I am to be married to such a person.

I do.

Prioritizing and Narrowing Focus

At the end of August I finished a campaign that had dominated a lot of my free time over the past summer. Though I wasn't the campaign manager of this particular campaign, I was advising the campaign manager and producing all of the written content and branding for the campaign (except in a few very unfortunate mailings that the candidate outsourced to a very partisan consultant).

I learned a lot of things about politics and local government that have made me a lot more jaded on the topic. I may explore some of these lessons either here or in another blog, but suffice it to say, I think that is the last campaign I will be actively involved in for a good while to come. The political arena is too caught up in things that I think are unimportant and unhealthy for a normal, sane, and functioning human being. Immersing oneself overmuch in that cesspool can generate not just a slimy sheen of cynicism, but also a good deal of soul sickness if one lingers.

I don't want that for myself.

So I've been re-prioritizing several elements of my life. Hence I've been maintaining some distance from my blogs and from several other forms of social media. I took a hard look at what I want in my life, at the person I want to be, and the things I want to accomplish. I've started a new diet and committed to going to the gym multiple times a week. I'm trying to improve my overall health. I also want spend more time with people I care about. However, one of the most important things I noted was something that I really shouldn't be overlooking.

I've concluded that for a writer, I don't write enough.

That may sound silly to some of the people that know me. I'm constantly working on some project, writing for clients, and experimenting with writing prompts. I probably put in upwards of 30 hours of writing a week.

That's really not enough.

I waste entirely too much time doing other things that don't contribute to my overall goals. I have projects that desperately need to be finished and developed instead of pushed aside for the latest shiny idea. I need to diversify my writing and publish in multiple arenas. I need to engage in more free-writing with daily prompts to exercise my writing muscles and develop my skills as a story teller. Granted, I'm not trying to build a platform here for any publication or marketing purposes, but I even need to blog more, even if just to get myself pumped and ready to go with my other writing.

So, this is me committing publicly to writing more. I've already done well with my new diet, filling my fridge with fresh produce and lean meats. I'm still sore from my third gym trip in three days, and can't wait to go back tomorrow and attempt this project route I've got on a bouldering wall. I've got plans to catch up several groups of friends over the next few days as well as my family, and I'm hoping to catch up with a few more when I can find a break in my schedule. :)

Now, it's time to write more. I've completed my writing goal for a client and gotten a head start on tomorrow's batch. I've written almost 600 words here, and I've done some research for one of my bigger projects. Tomorrow, before I go to the gym, I'm going to start with a writing prompt or free-write for at least half an hour to get my thoughts going. That way, I can marinate on some ideas while at the gym.

Enough putting off improving myself. I'm starting now.

Leeroy Jenkins!!

Can I just say, blogging is a tool  for the weak-minded?

God bless my poor husband. Yes, I'm drunk. ... I'm rarely anything but when I sign into one of my blogs these days. But there was champagne and gin and lemon and enough to make amazing French 75s, and why would I say "no" when things are so good?

Yes

I spent three hours longer than my husband wanted discussing all the things that excite me. That's right: Shakespeare, identity, politics, Joyce, Faulkner, characterization, story themes, sexuality, and more. How could I resist?!?! I felt so old discussing such subjects with a student just graduated from high school and yet I was infected by his enthusiasm for the subject. I realized I graduated from the same subjects over a decade ago ... and yet the emotions I feel for the subject are no less diminished. We dashed back and forth between Iago and Falstaff, Hamlet and Quentin, that I felt no drag from the twelve years since I've discussed these subjects in earnest.

Does High School stick with you so much? Everything I experienced then and, (I can recall with same alacrity) despite the fact that I have had some amazing college experiences. (I just took a few minutes to address my many college experiences and I just remembered that 8-10 years later, no one cares what you did in college...) no one cares what you did in High School or Grad School for how many years in pursuit of that ridiculous degree....All that matters of your life is what you do now. (Shit! My life's blood suddenly counts???) I gave up a PhD in light of the 7 yr commitment to do a dissertation on anything I didn't care about to fit a professor's identity .....and decided to get married, live my life, and .....raise a family....

I need a drink.    Seriously, has it been so many years since I left academia?  .....       Am I really that old? I"m looking at eleven years of squandered research potential???

I feel I have nothing left to add to the conversation at this age, and yet I feel I've just begun. Shit. I'm one of them. One of those who think all experience begins beyond 30 or 40.... And yet, here I am, staring down 30, with years of education to offer and some life experiences, and yet ... memories are a mist.

Nope. That's not what I have to offer. Guess what?

You know nothing. I don't care if you're 20 or 50. We know nothing. We may have some glimpse of what Shakespeare insinuated in his works, but we know nothing. I'm looking for rebuttals.

Processing My Thoughts through Writing

It's amazing to me how just writing something out, expressing my anger and arguments on a subject through the written word, can make me feel so much better. It doesn't solve the problem, per se, but for me, writing something out is my first step in dealing with it and addressing it.

Today (and last night, to be honest) I was consumed by anger about a particular set of laws that have been proposed here in Georgia and throughout the United States. The recent attacks on women and reproductive freedoms have me completely infuriated. So much so that I have been losing sleep over the issue.

While I don't plan to stop with writing a blog post that only a small handful of people will read, it was my necessary first step. Now that I've written it, it becomes real.

It was always weird for me, that listening to lectures in high school and college, I could process information and respond to ideas, but until I wrote something down about it, until I wrote my own essay, or put the concepts down into my own words, they never really clicked for me. Writing is a way of processing ideas, of making them real. It's how I work things out, how I process them. Even if I just whiteboard an idea out and erase it immediately, what I write down there sticks with me far better than anything I listen to or encounter in any other way.

It's why writing in a journal or diary has always been a great way for me to address serious issues in my life. If I try to process it just in my head or talking it out, I can lose track of the issue. I have to write it down, make lists, compose a narrative for the issue. Only then does it really mean anything. Only then does it become real to me.

Writing is how I give life to my thoughts.

So forgive me, people in my life, if sometimes I can't deal with issues the first time I encounter them, or if I have to shut down an argument or discussion that occurs in real life. If I haven't written about it previously, chances are I can't get a handle on my thoughts. They're flitting around in my head, effervescent with their intangibility. Until I pin them down and capture them with the written word, they're not real to me.

If I've written about it previously though, I'm good to go. So watch out if you engage me on one of those issues. :)

Forcing Discipline

I am horrible at discipline. I love my work; I love writing. I really do. But half the time I am tempted to do nothing but watch the entire series of Battlestar Galactica for the fourth time or play video games or read all the books (I average more than 50 a year, and I feel like a slacker!).

But when I have something I really should be working on, even if I want to, my creative/childish side rebels and wants to do anything but work. This is awful when you basically work for yourself. I am trying to build a brand for myself with writing. I freelance for many different companies and websites, as well as work with several graduate students on dissertations and writing projects. I run three blogs (about which you've read), am working on a novel, am world building for two more, and am beginning to draft for a nonfiction book. Not to mention the ebook/app I'm developing, the home I'm keeping clean, the meals I make, and the house hunting.

Wow I'm exhausted just listing those things!

So, in order to get any sort of work done, I have to create rewards for myself. These can be little things, like "You can take a fifteen minute web-surfing break if you finish this article," to harsh and punitive, "You may not leave the house until you finish that chapter." Sometimes I cheat myself, but I always have to remind myself that I'm the only one I'm hurting when I do so. Yes, I may want to go out instead of stay in and write; yes, I may prefer to read the latest Rothfuss offering right now. But is it worth it when I go another day without working on my own writing? (When it comes to reading Rothfuss, the answer is "SO TOTALLY WORTH IT!" but that's the rare exception.)

The rewards do work, though. I get so much more accomplished when I program in little bonuses for a job well done. Tonight, that means I got through way more than the 25 articles I needed to do today to get caught up for going to karaoke last night. That means, I get paid on time this week, can afford to pay for my sister's bachelorette party, and retain the good will of my family. See? It all works out.

So for your edification (or glimpse into the twisted structure that gets Sara to accomplish anything), I give you today's reward structure:

Today's absolute minimum: Finish five articles or you can't have a single glass of water or go to the bathroom or get up out of that chair, you lazy slug. (I didn't enforce this very strictly, but I got it done.)

No food today unless you finish at least ten.

Today's main goal: Okay, this batch has to be completely done before you leave to pick up your husband from the airport. If you fail, he's stranded at the airport, and it's all on you. Do you want to be a terrible wife? Then finish this batch!

Above and beyond: Good job getting to where you should have been yesterday. All right, we'll be lenient, five more articles and you can have a glass of wine. It's your favorite!

Keeping the momentum going: Great job! Okay, five more short articles and a blog entry (believe it or not, this is actually part of the reward), and after that and you can watch an episode of that show you love.

Still to come: Whoo hoo! Wasn't that reward nice? I'll tell you what: if you can give me five more now that you're all rested, you can take a nice relaxing bath and go through some research for your novel before bed. (Note how I plug in productivity on another project as a reward. My way of tricking myself: procrastination by working on something that needs to be done, but probably not yet. Sneaky productivity!)

And that's that. That is how I wrote 25 articles and over 8000 words today. Problem is, I need to come up with new rewards for tomorrow... Any ideas??

Two New Blogs

The point of this blog was to get me back into the habit of writing daily. Alas, that has not panned out the way I intended with my posts here being a bit sporadic to say the least.

And yet, I do write every day now!

I'm either writing for my clients, working on my novels, or now blogging on specific topics.

That's right. I'm launching two new blogs, that I hope I will post in at least three to four times a week, if not every day. They are more focused than this blog, aimed at specific target audiences and exploring variations on themes. I'm hoping that will enable me to start building platforms from which I might launch some future works.

In the meantime, they're great opportunities for me to write every day and explore things I think about a good deal.

The first is "A Sane Libertarian." In this blog I will discuss a good deal of politics from a highly educated, highly interested libertarian perspective. I didn't spend four years in college and three years in grad school to never talk about politics. And since the topic is verboten at most social gatherings, I'm going to commit to writing about it. I've got a Masters in Political Theory and American Politics from the University of Virginia, I've run a political campaign for the US House of Representatives, and I keep up with politics by reading way too many blogs and news sites. Time to make my experiences work for me.

The second blog is called "A Writer's Recipes." The first post basically sums up why I'm doing this blog: I have to lose about 30 pounds for my sister's wedding in order to shrink my well-endowed top half and fit into the bridesmaid's dress that is apparently discontinued and the last size they had.... *RAGE* .... Since I have a relatively sedentary lifestyle as a writer and I really hate to exercise--I don't run unless someone's chasing me--I aim to keep my daily caloric intake below 1200. This means modifying recipes and trying out new ones to keep from getting bored. Salads every day are unacceptable in my house, especially since my husband doesn't eat them. In this blog, you can follow my experiments, successes, and failures as I change my eating profile and hopefully my physical profile as well!

So that's that. I hope you will consider checking them out! Let me know what you think of them, and if you want me to tackle any particular topics in either of them.

Getting Paid

Post finishing up the grad school story is still coming, but I'd like to interrupt that for a bit of good news.

After nearly a full year of being unemployed I finally have some work. It's not a full time job, and I don't have to report into an office. I'm instead freelancing with article writing, proofreading, editing, and rewriting on a couple of different projects. It's flexible, reasonably well-paid, and I can do it in my own time from my own home.

I'm so excited to finally have some work, and I'm actually really enjoying it so far.

So that's all. Now I have more of an excuse for my breaks between posts, but I promise I'll still try and update fairly often.

I did write, I swear!

I have vowed to write something of substance every day, and I have largely succeeded at that, with the exception of yesterday. You may ask, "Why, then, is today's post so short?"

First, I wrote some fiction, which I will not post here yet. Second, today's short essay was full of spoilers for the latest Doctor Who, and I don't want anyone who is following me here and may not be completely caught up to accidentally spoil the heck out of an awesome Season Six. Thus, if you ARE caught up, or if you don't care about spoilers, you can find a quick essay debating some of the intricacies of Doctor Who and its mysteries in my comment on my friend Catie's website.

That is all. Something of more substance tomorrow.

A Writer's Confession

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

I have all the time in the world. I have ideas and outlines. I have a story. I even know what words I want on the page next.

But I'm not writing.

It's worse than that. I can't even bring myself to open the document that houses the work I've done. It's like I'm paralyzed.

And I don't understand it.

I left grad school in part because it was taking me away from some of the things I wanted to do, namely writing. (Rest assured there were very many other reasons, not least of which was the lack of support and guidance within my department.) But it's been two years, and I have a little over 52,000 words? Almost every single one of those useless words was written during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year. (I wrote close to 30,000 words last NaNoWriMo, but I've either thrown them out or recycled them in this year's rewrite of last year's novel). Maybe it was the structure, or the deadline, or the accountability to something bigger than me, but the NaNoWriMo project spurred me to do what eleven months of the year cannot.

What have I written since then? The beginning of a chapter. Six times. The same chapter. Every time I sit down to write (in a notebook with a colorful pen, because I still can't bring myself to open my novel file), I feel I have a better way to start the chapter, or I doubt too much the previous attempt, or I just feel it's easier to start again and capitalize on my momentum into the middle of the chapter. The middle never comes.

I give up. I stop writing. I avoid it like the plague.

What's wrong with me?

I can't even really call it writer's ("writers' "? "writers"?) block, because I know what comes next. I'm just not writing it.

Maybe it's fear. Fear that finishing the novel will mean having to begin the rewriting/editing process? No, it can't be that, because I love editing. Fear that I will eventually have to show people the novel? No, because Daniel has been reading it all along in its incredibly rough and unfinished state. Fear that I'll have to send it out to agents and publishers and get rejected? Doubt it. After the demoralizing job search of the past, oh, nine months, I think I'm getting pretty damn used to rejection.

Why? Why can't I just write?

It's not that I dislike writing. I love it! It's easily one of my favorite things in the world. The feel of creation, of stringing together thoughts to manufacture something new, is exhilarating! I even love the hard part of finding that perfectly elusive word that completes the most nuanced though. Of balancing clauses. Of combing through for mistakes. Of taking a single sentence or paragraph and molding it, shaping it with tones and voice, and just making it fit more perfectly on the page.

But I'm just not writing lately, and it's killing me.

The funny thing is, though, since I began writing this little blog post, I've actually opened my novel file. I've actually contemplated writing in that rather than finish writing this confession. Maybe I just have a pathological inability to finish things.

Might explain leaving grad school before I got my PhD.

Nah, that's too harsh on myself. Even for me. And I love to beat up on myself! (Too fat. Not talented. Lazy. Not smart enough. Seriously stupid thoughts fill my head all the time, but I figure that's just natural.)

Any suggestions on how to actually write again? I'm going to try tonight, and maybe I'll succeed. Rest assured, though, I will go through this same struggle tomorrow and the next day. I would love to know any tricks anybody else uses for getting through this kind of struggle.

In the beginning there were the words.

So it begins.

Hello, my name is Sara, and I am a writer.

"Writer of what?" I hear you, my imaginary audience, query.

Why of many things! I am a woman of many passions: from news and politics, to science fiction and fantasy, to couture fashion and shoes.

After three years of graduate school in political theory, I have recently decided to venture into the realm of my truest and longest passion: I am diving full time into the worlds of writing. Enough with these roundabout career choices that dance with and flirt with writing. Merely trading tantalizing tidbits is no longer enough for me. I am ready for a full-blown affair with the written word, and every faithless job before must prepare to bid me adieu. I'm ready to consummate my love, and no tease of a "secure" career can deter me.

So, I ask you my now imaginary and, hopefully, soon-to-be tangible readers, join me on this whirlwind romance. You will find all of my passions caressed here with the longing of a true lover of literature, language, and life. Find here politics and pop culture, fashion and fantasy, and almost (un)allayed allocation of alliteration.

My name is Sara, and I am a writer.