The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
I expect somebody looked you up, though.
Nope. No way in hell. I rang them up, she answered the phone, I said I'm a writer doing a book yada etc, no other details, didn't even give my surname. She said, "Oh, you'll want Homicide. Please hold, I'll connect you to Lieuternant McCarthy. He'll be able to give you what you need."
End of conversation. On to Lt. McCarthy.
Oh, and by the way, not to sound crass, but I'm a slightly cynical realist, and I think that if you tell them you're in a chair, they'll fall over themselves being helpful.
I'm never sure whether to play that or not, Deb. You'd think I'd have radar for it by now, but not really. There have been times when it paid big and times when it was a big liability. But I'll give it a bit and get more specific if I don't get an answer soon.
erika, that's the basic litmus, I think. If they aren't giving you the info at a point where you've got nothing to lose by playing it, then why not?
Taking a moment to be chuffed. Two cool writery things, ok, wait, three:
1. I let my editor know about the Booklist review that Nic found purely by accident, and she was pleased as hell about it. Library sales!
2. When we were down in LA for the Mystery Bookstore signing, we had dinner (post-food poisoning, so it was basically me taking tiny bits of blue corn enchiladas) with Karen Taylor. She told me about being fed up with HWA (Horror Writers of America, which I've never joined due to the overweening sense of "Boyz ROOL! Gurls SUK! KEEP OUT!" I got from it), and about Persephone, the women horror writers' association she and a few other women were founding. This morning, she and Laura Anne Gilman announced it officially. I'm so joining this one, and it also solidifies me being in NYC the weekend of 7 April, since it's World Horror Convention in NYC that weekend, and Persephone will be premiering. Woot!
3. I just got fan mail for "Famous Flower" from Danny Carnahan! Superb musician, turns out to be on the board of the Freight and Salvage (where damned near all the great traditional musicians play), and has just offered to put me on the permanent guest list. WOOT!
That's great, Deb!
I see that Freight and Salvage has two of my favorites in March, Robin and Linda Williams and Chris Smither.
Good news, Deb!
Seriously? In re the Gimp Card? Because it's hard for me...feels weird taking advantage of my "shame" or something. Cause it's weird...we love you, we hate you. Go back to your cave. Come to the front of the line. You're disgusting. You're special.(Could y'all have a meeting and pick a neurosis so I only have to cope with one? Ta.)
That said, this is total Work of A Lifetime, so if I have to be embarrassed, "Ain't Too Proud To Beg."
erika, I'm big on using every weapon I've got, at any given time, to get the information I need. I did it when I was in a chair, I do it with the MS, and whatever it takes. This is the hand I'm holding, right? Shit, if the joker turns out to sub for the occasional missing ace, that's how I'm using it.
Okay, I can't remember last night's idea, so instead, I bring you this:
Challenge #46 (describe something small) is now closed.
Challenge #47 is YELLOW.
My memory is a sieve.
Good news, Deb! Seriously? In re the Gimp Card? Because it's hard for me...feels weird taking advantage of my "shame" or something. Cause it's weird...we love you, we hate you. Go back to your cave. Come to the front of the line. You're disgusting. You're special.(Could y'all have a meeting and pick a neurosis so I only have to cope with one? Ta.) That said, this is total Work of A Lifetime, so if I have to be embarrassed, "Ain't Too Proud To Beg."
Hypothetically speaking, would you play the girl card to get out of a ticket, erika? When I was 20, I wouldn't. I was on my way to get my car inspected. It should have been inspected in August. It was September 1st. I'd moved back to school on 8/31. On my way to the inspection station, I got pulled over. I told the cop I was on my way to get it inspected (I truly was), and was just driving it for the 20 minutes the shop recommended (for emissions testing) beforehand. The cop snarked, "Oh, isn't that convenient." I snarked back something like, "Since you pulled me over, not so much."
I got a $50 ticket for driving an uninspected vehicle, which also meant an insurance surcharge of something like 50 bucks a year for 3 years (or 5, it was a long time ago), because that particular violation is considered a moving violation. I've never been too proud to play the girl card since, if the situation demands. If I lose sometimes because of being a girl, then darn it, I'm not to proud to gain sometimes, because I'm a girl. Yeah, yeah, probably set the movement back 3 decades. Screw the movement. They couldn't even get the ERA passed.
Screw the movement. They couldn't even get the ERA passed.
Talk to the Mormon Church about that, ma'am - they donated nearly twenty million dollars to make sure it didn't pass. Apparently, God doesn't love girls, or at least, the people who claim to have his private email - as well as having all the money - say so.
As for setting the movement back? I doubt it. I'll use whatever portion of my anatomy, functional or not at the moment, for whatever the objective is, providing I don't have a scruple involved. I'm fairly fierce about those.
It would depend how much of a bit it would have to be, I think.If I'm driving down the road and the cop just thinks I have a nice face or nice...whatever else, and gives me a break, then that is like the brighter side of profiling, and not my "fault". Uncomfortable to profit from, but I'd have to be out of my mind to argue* into* a ticket(although I have argued into longer spots in line. Ironically, considering what I write, it being a cop plays into my "stick it to the Man" chromosome, which is quite developed and has left me with authority issues that could float a boat.)
Now, if I'm gonna have to sell it, bend so he can look down my blouse, giggle when he asks "Do you know how fast you were going?"...I'd take the ticket. My wiles look like ticcing anyways.But it's hard if you want respect that isn't of the" If I were you, I'd shoot myself," sort. Because some people want to give me credit for breathing air, and others I'll never get it from, ever.
But I suppose I could talk about it without having be a pityfuck. It is a dominant theme of my current work, and I'm published in the disability press. That's not the same thing as when I asked about being on a telethon and Mom said "Over my dead body,"(Gee, wonder where my style came from?)
