Anyway…LOOK!

No, really, LOOK!! My crit partner, the brilliant and ever-stylish Rita-winning Barbara Caridad Ferrer, has SOLD!

Wait till you read this book. You’ll laugh… you’ll cry… you’ll cry some more… you’ll run out and rent “Carmen”… you’ll cry SOME MORE…

I’m so proud I could pop.

When I call e-pirates thieves? I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about sites like Asatalk and Demonoid that upload ebooks to file-sharing sites by the thousands. That’s not sharing a book with a few friends. That’s not “building community.” That’s ripping off authors, and making it harder for us to get compensated for our work. Reasonable people can agree on this topic, yes? One would hope so.

But then I stumble across readers making comments like, “Why should I care if authors make any money on their writing? It’s not my problem. I don’t care if their books are being pirated. I don’t care if Amazon rips them off. I don’t want to hear about it.”

And I begin to wonder about this whole “community building” thing. Especially when I’ve seen some of these same readers (in the comments of the same blog, too) say, “Where are all the new and interesting books? Why isn’t there anything good to read? I’m so bored. Everything sucks.”

Take those two statements together, and you’ve got something that smells an awful like entitlement. And I start to feel as if authors are being asked to do all the heavy lifting in this “community building” enterprise.

Here’s the thing: After you pay for my book, I don’t believe you owe me anything. Not a fan letter. Not a good review on a blog or elsewhere. Not a recommendation. Nada. As far as I’m concerned, our transaction is complete. Which is not to say I don’t love to hear from readers in all the ways I’ve listed. I just don’t expect it. I don’t feel ENTITLED to it, in other words.

But if you’re going to start bandying about the idea of building a community of readers and writers, then there has to be give and take on both sides. If I can get behind Kindle users sharing a book with five or six other buddies, surely readers can get behind denouncing the true pirates.

As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t care whether we are compensated for our work, you are not a member of any community I’d ever want to join.
(X-posted to Dubious_Virtue)

“There is a bit of Cinderfella, a bit of The Beauty and the Beast, and yes, also a bit of the Puss in Boots, all mixed together in a resulting tale that is a winning formula. Often I read historical fantasy tale, but most of the time they have not originality, they are only a way to tell a story of man love in frilly garments without the burden to do an historical accurate research. in Year of the Cat, Selah March is not trying to masquerade an historical tale with the fantasy freedom, she wants to tell you a fairy tale, a naughty fairy tale, and she reaches her purpose.”

While you’re there, check out the first phase of the Rainbow Awards for LGBT fiction and non-fiction.

Make it this one: http://wedschilde.livejournal.com/1312665.html

To paraphrase my brilliant and ever fabulously stylish crit partner, Barbara Caridad Ferrer,  you can’t ever really know who you’re talking to on the Internet, so check your assumptions at the door and watch your friggin’ mouth lest you have cause to discover it’s just the right size for your big fat foot.

The authors of the post are eloquent in their defense of Lambda’s decision to change its award guidelines. A lot of what they say makes sense (not all, but I’m not of a mind to dissect the entire post). I still think the LLF’s decision was ultimately divisive and short-sighted. (And yes, I see where they called out the reference to “lynching.” Yes, it’s an inflammatory word. I meant it to be. If you’re looking for an apology for its use, look elsewhere.)

I feel strongly about this issue. I was amazed to discover there are people who believe I have no right to my strong feelings — or maybe it’s that I have no right to express them, even on my own blog. That I’m “heterosexist” and possibly even “homophobic” for expressing them, and certainly no friend to the gay community.

Here’s the thing: My opinion isn’t much more than an echo of the opinions of a lot of other people, many of whom are gay, including two past Lammy winners and the guy who founded the award. My opinion is virtually identical to theirs, but they’re not getting identical abuse (that I’ve seen).

I can only conclude that I’m being told to sit down and shut up — because of who I sleep with — by people who’ve been forced to sit down and shut up for millenia — because of who they sleep with.

Now, I’m a big fan of irony. But this time, it’s a little bitter for my tastes. It’s discouraging to discover such a nasty thread of “if you’re not with us, you’re against us” underneath the interactions of people I consider my peers.

I’ll say it one more time: It’s their award, and they can do anything they want with it, but I think the decision to change the guidelines was divisive, short-sighted, and will ultimately devalue the award. The fact that I disagree with one small group of gay folks about a literary award does not make me homophobic or heterosexist, nor does it mean I “don’t get it.”

I get it. I just don’t agree. There is room here for reasonable people of differing opinions. And if there’s not? Then we have much farther to go than we thought we did, don’t we?

This morning, Lambda Lit Award founder Deacon Maccubbin commented on the ongoing Lammy kerfluffle.

“Just to keep the historical record clear, when I founded the Lambda Literary Awards in 1988, they were specifically intended to honor “the writers, editors and publishers of gay and lesbian literature”. There was no litmus test of the sexual or affectional orientation of those writers, editors and publishers. It was only necessary that a nominated book be of interest to gays and lesbians (and, later, to bisexuals and transgenders as additional categories were added). That was true for the first five years of the Lammy Awards. I believe it was true even after we turned the awards program over to the new non-profit Lambda Literary Foundation; I don’t know at what point the criteria might have changed, but I think it would be wise to return to the original vision.”

His entire comment can be found here: http://www.mlrpressauthors.com/2009/09/the-little-lost-lambdas-some-thoughts-by-victor-j-banis/

In memory of the late, great Kate Duffy, here’s a taste and a link to the full poem:

I read slush.
Slush I read.

That slush I read.
That slush I read!
I do not like that slush I read.

Do you like fanfic with vamps?

I do not like them Mary Sue.
Why do these vamps all worship you?

Here’s a tale from D & D!

I do not want your D & D.
I do not like your elf PC.
I can not stand your purple prose.
I want to punch you in the nose!

***
“Slush I Read” by Jim C. Hines.

I’m especially enamored of this bit:

“I think this is a terrible move on the part of the LLF. Narrowing the field does nothing to improve the award’s credibility and it’s something of a slap in the face to gay writers as it suggests we can’t compete with the straight folks.

Particularly disturbing to me is this passage:

‘We also took into consideration the despair of our own writers when a heterosexual writer, who has written a fine book about us, wins a Lambda Award, when one or more of our own LGBT writers may have as a Finalist a book that may be the only chance in a career at a Lambda Literary Award.’

Okay, I despair over not having my work taken seriously, so give me one of them Pulitzers or maybe a National Book Award. Whatever. I’m not picky. Being a gay writer should not entitle you to an award, any award, particularly when that award was once considered a literary honor, not a giftie for sexual orientation.”

Teddy Pig says this: http://www.teddypig.com/2009/09/shame-on-me-shame-on-you/

And this: http://www.teddypig.com/2009/09/lambda-literary-foundation-we-cant-hack-a-level-playing-field-so/

And this! http://www.teddypig.com/2009/09/because-someone-asked/

Victor J. Banis says this: http://www.mlrpressauthors.com/2009/09/the-little-lost-lambdas-some-thoughts-by-victor-j-banis/

Erastes says this: http://erastes.livejournal.com/449814.html

Emmyjag says this: http://emmyjag.livejournal.com/146174.html

On the good news front, I received an email from noted reviewer Elisa Rolle about her plan to create the “Rainbow Awards” for excellence in LGBT fiction and non-fiction. (Link to informational post: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/799266.html .)

I’m excited about the prospect of an award for LGBT fiction that’s open to writers of all genders and sexual orientations. It will be fascinating to see whether a grassroots effort to acknowledge the story over its author gets any traction in the current climate. Given the groundswell of initial support, I’m hopeful.

Reactions to this range from outrage to meh, with a few “those straight girls should just come up with their own reward for the gay buttsecks writing.”

Yeah, that’ll go over like a lead-filled condom. Straight women creating an award for writing gay fiction that gay people aren’t allowed to enter.

THEY WOULD COME FOR US WITH TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS.

And they’d be right.

I witnessed the entire assault. I’d love to say it was unprovoked, but Dr. March has a nasty habit of not watching where he’s going when he’s in a hurry.

Apparently, the mating pair of bluebirds who’ve chosen to nest in the bushes to the left of our front stoop had decided that THIS was morning their two babies would learn to fly. Both chicks were perched on the top step of the stoop when Dr. March pushed open the screen door above their little heads.

That’s when Papa Blue attacked.

Now, bluebirds aren’t particularly common around these parts. Blue JAYS we’ve got – big-ass mofos with the manners of your average inbred bully – and crows and robins and cardinals by the dozens. But not so much with the bluebirds.

I remember my grandmother setting up bluebird houses all around her property in hopes of attracting even one mating pair a season. (Apparently the species has special housing needs. Who knew?) But we’ve managed to attract a pair with no effort at all. What we didn’t expect was the violence with which they protect their territory and their young.

This little dude dive-bombed with all the evil intent of a kamikaze fighter pilot, coming within three inches of my husband’s head. No fool he, Dr. March retreated into the house. Papa Blue promptly perched on a nearby tree branch and proceeded to cuss us out at a high volume. For the next ten minutes we were held prisoner in our home. Each time Dr. March attempted to escape, Papa Blue repeated his aerial maneuver, coming a little closer every time.

I suggested using the back door. My husband said he refused to be cowed by a “fucking bird.” Yet cowed he most certainly was.

Finally, his point made, the Bluebird of Happiness buggered off and Dr. March was able to leave for work.

There’s a moral here somewhere, but I’ll be damned if I can find it. Suggestions?