#also it's how I check out the Dear America and related series these days

[arctic-hands]

The great thing about library apps Hoopla and Overdrive/Libby is that I can check out YA without having to be flustered that I'm nearly thirty reading about teenage protagonists

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

You will always be the winter soldier - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Author’s Note: 

This is a flashback of your past with Bucky. Somethings weren’t witnessed by Bucky or you because I just want to give more details about the thoughts of other people as well. So this is definitely written in a third person perspective. This chapter is really long but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. 

Bucky sits in a plane to Munich. Sam got information that the leader of the Flag smashers are currently working there. 

Bucky remembers the last time he was in Germany. It feels like an eternity ago.

„Tell me why I need to watch this series again.“, Bucky looked absolutely annoyed. 

„Its a classic. Everyone knows this series. It’s like general knowledge.“ You answered while scribbling something on your paper. 

„ And why aren't you watching this series?“ 

„Well my love, I know this series by my heart.“, you smiled at him and then saying the exact same thing the actor said on the screen proving him that you really do know this series.

Minutes later you closed your math book with a loud thump and throwing it on the ground. 

"I'm sorry. I don't want to torture you with this series. Maybe I can make it up to you." You winked at Bucky and kissed him on his right cheek. 

„Probably you will find a way.“, Bucky smiled mischievously and kissed you right on your lips with both of his hands on your cheeks. 

You and Bucky weren’t virgins but you both never had sex with each other yet. It made you nervous. 

And Bucky was nervous as well.The last time he had sex was an eternity ago and women changed through the times. Now women are so much more emancipated and strong-minded.

You kissed him. On his face, throat, neck and down his torso. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

In this night you and Bucky didn’t have just sex- you made love that night. It was something absolutely soft, and warm and caring about it. 

There was no much of talking and there was no pressure- it was just pure love without saying the word itself. 

Everything changed from that night on. From that day on you both were a couple, without labeling it.

Two weeks later Bucky accompanied you to university. It was something he did regularly and you enjoyed it. It gave your the feeling he was just a normal guy spending time with his girlfriend. And James from Bucharest was  indeed almost a normal guy. While you were bubbling about a math problem no one except math students could understand, he noticed a man.

Bucky knew when he was being followed and it agitated him. 

Now that he wasn’t just concerned with his life but also concerned with your safety it made him anxious. 

He grabbed your right arm and pulled you in a small alley.

You looked at him confused and scared. „What’s going on?“, you asked not understanding his sudden behavior. 

„I wanted to give this to you.“ Bucky pulled out a small mobile phone from his pocket. You looked confused because you already had a smartphone in your trouser pocket. 

„It’s a safe line. So, if you’re in danger or you just think you’re in danger- call me and I will come and get you.“

„You’re scarring me. Are you in trouble? Are WE in trouble? Do we need to run?“ You looked at him, touching his face to make sure he calmed down.

„No. Don’t worry. Everything’s alright.“ Bucky lied. „I’m just taking precautions.“

You doubted this reassurance.

„I can ditch university. I can come with you.“

„No. It calms me down to know that you’re safe at university.“ 

„Okay. But don’t forget: If you jump, I jump, remember?“ You quoted the movie you both watched last night. 

„You’re stuck with me. Where you go, I go.“

He kissed the palm of your left hand. „I’m not going anywhere.“, Bucky lied again. 

And with that he accompanied  you to university. As he left, you walked into your class and you took out your phone and your homework. You checked the latest news. The day before there was a bombing in Vienna but on this day there were breaking that there’s a picture of a suspect. The picture showed no other than Bucky himself. Your heart stopped for a moment and you couldn’t think clearly. This explained his behavior and fear. You knew he was innocent- no doubt about that. You knew the man you fell in love with and James would never do such thing. The only conclusion was that he was being fraud by someone else. You decided to skip the class and go home to find James. 

When you arrived outside, the campus was quite empty because the majority of the students were already in their classes. As you walked to the gate a man was calling you.

„Hey! Wait!“ He jogged to you. 

„You’re working with Bucky, aren’t you? You’re his accomplice.“ The man in front of you assumed. 

„None of your business.“, you muttered. You wanted to pass him but he stopped you by grabbing your shoulder. 

„My name’s Sam Wilson and you really need to come with me.“, he said, scarring you with his words.

His grip was so tight that you couldn’t break free.

„Im not coming with you. Who do you think you are?“

„I’m working with Captain America.“ He said. You could hear the pride in his voice.

„So? That doesn’t make you an authority. I don’t trust you.“

„You saw the picture, didn’t you? You saw the picture of him in the newspaper. You don’t strike me as a dumb person, yeah? You know what this picture means. They are after him. They are already here. So I need your help.“

„Why do you need my help? He’s innocent. That picture is fake and I know it. But do you? Do you believe in his innocence or what aim do you really pursue?“

Sam didn’t answer but he also didn’t let go of you. So the only thing that you could do was to kick him between his legs. But your head start wasn’t for long. You can’t outrun an athlete. He caught you with his hand which made you stumbled and you fell face forward on the ground. Your lip was bleeding. 

„Im sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you.“

As you looked around you saw police officers pointing their guns at you and Sam. 

„You called the police?!“ You asked unbelievably.

„Ey. They’re pointing their guns at me too. So no- I didn’t call the police.“ 

They handcuffed you both and took off. Sam talked with someone via earpiece: „I’ve got her but the police got us both. I’m sorry.“

At the same time, Bucky, Steve and King T’Challa were also handcuffed. Steve looked at his childhood friend and shared the information Sam just gave him: „I’m sorry, but they’ve got her.“ 

To say that Bucky was furious was an understatement: He would burn down the whole city if they’d hurt her. 

When you arrived at the office in Berlin you couldn’t stop all the questions that were floating in your mind. „Why are we here? Since when is Germany responsible for crimes that happened in Vienna or Bucharest? Why were German police officers in Romania? What the heck is going on?“ You asked but everyone was ignoring you. 

Minutes later a man entered the room and you realized that this was Tony Stark. „Who is that?“ He asked, pointing his finger at you. You didn’t bother to answer him. You just turned your head away. „Alright. Kinda mean but we will get the answers anyway.“ He sat down next to Steve. „Is the thing you have with him even legal?“, he asked you again.

„You tell me. He was born in 1917. I was born 80 years later.“

Tony scrunched up his nose. 

The screen was turned on and you saw James. „Why is he in a cage? Why is there no lawyer? Is this how Germany practices its law now? Did you tell him his right to silence?“ You asked almost aggressively 

„You’re audacious and naive.“, said a man in a suit. 

„Stop insulting me. James is as innocence as I am. He wasn’t in Vienna and I told you that from the beginning. And no one in this damn room is listening. You’re just looking for a guy to take the blame. I don’t know how America treats their suspects but here in Germany they have human rights as well. They have dignity and they are still treated with respect and decency. All people have rights. We learned that 70 years ago and we will never ever forget it, understand?“, you spatted. „You imprisoned and treat him as if he’s a monster.“

„My dear child, do you know what he just did today in Bucharest? The damage he caused?“, the man screamed. 

„But it were you with the loaded guns, right?“

„He’s not just a suspect. He’s the delinquent.“

„In some countries there is a trial for this question to be answered, but you seemed to be hangman and judge in once.“ You provoked him. This was so unlike you that you really couldn’t understand the anger that was inside you. 

„I like her.“ Tony said. „She’s loyal like a golden retriever.“

„Stop insulting me even more. I’m defending the man I love that doesn’t mean I’m a puppy wagging its tail.“ 

Before anyone could say anymore to worsen the situation the power was gone for merely seconds but the power was back, Bucky disappeared from the video. Everyone in the room turned around and looked at you. 

„How are you going to explain this.“ Tony asked you 

„Kid, you stay here. Don’t even think about leaving this room.“ As Tony walked downstairs he asked himself if you’re related to a woman he met over 20 years ago who happens to have the same last surname like you did. No, unlikely. Almost impossible. 

Bucky, in his winter soldier mode only had one aim: to kill as many people as possible. But something was off. He hasn’t been the winter soldier for quite some time and the impact you had. The thought that you were hurt made him even more lethal. His priority was to find you and made sure you were okay. So everyone who fought him was a threat, an enemy.

It ended in a cafeteria where Bucky held a gun to the head of a seemingly important man. Bucky was circled with dozen of agents, all pointing a gun at him. 

„Where is she? Where is (y/f/n)?“ Bucky asked

„She’s okay. You don’t need to worry about her.“, Steve assured Bucky

„I don’t trust you. I need to see her.“ 

„We can bring her here. So you can see it for yourself.“ Steve suggested while Bucky just nodded. 

Steve and Tony ran upstairs and Tony grasped Steve by his arm. „What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t bring her downstairs to him. He’s dangerous and she’s just a kid. You can’t control him.“

„He isn’t dangerous and I don’t think he would hurt her. After all they are something like a couple. She knows him. And we will be there as well. Trust me, Tony. Nothing will happen.“

So they both accompanied you downstairs. 

You’ve got nervous, shaking uncontrollably. „You don’t have to do this.“ Tony said. 

„And I’m really sorry that I compared you with a golden retriever. I just think that loyalty is a great character trait.“

You smiled at him. „It’s alright. I’m sorry too. For being so angry and impulsive and arrogant.“

„Are you scared?“ Tony asks. „No, I’m not. I trust him. I trust the man I love. He isn’t the winter soldier anymore. And that he remembers me in this moment- that’s a good sign, isn’t it? So I had a little impact on him.“

Steve opened the door. You felt all the eyes of the agents on you. Thats really made you uncomfortable but you tried to ignore and only concentrate on James. You tried to relax. Your hands where cold as ice- something that always happens when you get nervous. You walked towards him. „You need to let go of this man, James.“, you pointed with your eyes at the man. „I’m alright. I’m safe.“ You approached him. „You really need to let go of him.“ Your voice was firmer. „The agents here are scared of you. They see you as a threat. So I’m begging you: let go of him.“ 

And Bucky let go of him. „They hurt you.“ He stated looking at your bruised lips. „No, they didn’t. I stumbled.“ You reassured him. „James, you need to put down the gun as well. The avengers aren’t the enemy. We can trust them. I do. I trust them and I think we might need their help.“ And you kissed him. Right in front of anyone. You heard the thump of the gun greeting the ground as James let go of it. 

You broke the kiss and caressed his cheek. But before Bucky could say anything you looked to your right and something you saw made you so scared. You pushed Bucky with all the strength you’ve got, making him stumble a few steps backwards. But that was enough to take his spot. 

Bucky saw the redness on your shirt before he heard the bang of the gun. Steve and Tony screamed „NO!“, but it was already too late. You looked at it and all the color of your face vanished. You started to fall but Bucky caught you, laying you softly on the ground. Soon you lost you consciousness.

Steve used the chaos to get Bucky out of there. „They will help her. But you need to come. It’s not safe for you here.“ 

During that time agent Sharon Carter kept Steve and Bucky informed but Bucky had a really hard time. „She’s still sleeping. You are not missing anything.“ She assured him. 

When you woke up you were greeted by non other than Tony Stark itself. He read a German magazine. „Do you understand what you’re reading or are you just looking at the pictures?“ 

He looked up and grinned. „Really nice pictures. But I also get help with the translating.“ He pointed to his high technology-glasses. 

„How do you feel?“

„Exhausted but okay.“ 

You looked around and you saw James standing in the door frame. „James“ you whispered, reaching out for him. „I’m so relieved that you’re fine.“ Bucky looked at Tony who faintly shook his head indicating that you were still oblivious about the fight in Leipzig and the separation of the avengers. 

„What happened after I passed out?“, you asked

„You mean after you got shot.“, Tony corrected you. 

„Why did you pack?“, you ask James, forgetting the last question you just asked. 

„I’m leaving for Wakanda. They offered me to free me from the mind control and I’m gonna take that chance.“

„Take me with you. I want to be with you. I can’t imagine a life without you. Please, James.“ 

He looked you deep in your eyes. You could see how he’s debating on the inside. „Okay.“ And he kissed you passionately. 

Tony didn’t like that idea at all. „Okay, lovebirds. We better should look for a doctor to sign the release papers and you can rest a bit more.“ He ushered Bucky out of your room and when the door closed he let go of his facade.

„You can’t take her with you. Thats really selfish of you. She’s kid. She can’t throw away her life for you. She is not your psychologist. You know exactly what you are. You’re a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. You’re destroying her life. And you don’t care because after all you will always be the winter soldier. Nothing will change that.“

Bucky looked at Tony like he just got slapped. „I know who and what I am. I will never be good enough for her. Yeah, maybe I’m selfish taking her with me but I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her and I will protect her. I promise.“

„But can you protect her from yourself?“ 

As you packed your belongings James waited outside your room. „You don’t have to go with him. You don’t need to throw your life away. You don’t owe him anything.“, Tony stated. 

„I’m not throwing anything away. He’s my future. He’s anything I’ve ever wanted. Wakanda will be an adventure and I’m ready to take it.“

Tony suppressed all the things he wanted to tell you. He hugs you and said instead. „If he hurts you in anyway, call me. I’ll come and get you.“ He caress your hair and without noticing he took a single hair of you. He needed to know who you were to him. He couldn’t ignore his curiosity anymore. 

Chapter 6

@inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam @dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64 @agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine @bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213  @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud

[drneilfox]

Scarlet's Swords: Music Films Book Blog 10 (July 2021)

A rollercoaster of a month emotionally with ‘the book’. So many moments of insecurity and anxiety washed away by a series of related and tangential moments and experiences. I went on annual leave finally, to await the arrival of our new baby and to spend a few weeks as a family with little to no responsibility or expectation beyond that. It was freeing to put on my out of office at work and simultaneously put a quasi-OOO on the book for the foreseeable. It might have been foolish given how far behind where I wanted to be I am currently, but it was liberating.

It caused me to rethink my approach, or at least know I need to (I haven’t done it yet because I’m stepping back a tad). In the downtime away from writing I have been tinkering and moving forward at a snail’s pace. One thing I did was to map out all the films I still need to see or see again, or at least have told myself I need to see or see again. It’s up near the 300. Obviously I can’t watch that many and write and read and edit and submit my first draft in February 2022. So I stopped worrying that I had to. I have been prioritising viewing and making peace with the fact that I can’t see everything. It’s weird how pervasive that sense is when writing about cinema and how hard it is to escape. The feeling that I am writing about something I love and want to share with people is subsumed beneath the fear of being ‘tested’ on my knowledge and the facts of it all (even though I’m not presenting fact) and what ‘gaps’ might tell people about me. This is sometimes stronger than the feeling that I am just a terrible writer writing a book no one has any interest in ever reading. I wonder if that’s my age, or the social media age, the fact that it’s taken me so long to get to this point or some wretched combination of all three.

The writing of the list certainly helped put the next few months into focus and my sketch of a new plan, once I am back in earnest at the desk, looks ok. I’m excited to work through the final films and get the book into even better shape. Other events in July certainly helped. One was finishing a draft of the fifth chapter on my list, on films about making music. It was a slog time wise, because of so many interruptions, but I got there on the final day of ‘work’ before annual leave. So it felt momentous and a good way to sign off for a bit.

There was also the arrival of some films from the U.S. I took advantage of the Barnes and Noble 50% off Criterion Collection sale and the fact that I have a dear, dear friend in New York (thank you JC!) to post stuff to me that would mean avoiding import tax, to get my hands on some classic films. I mainly wanted them for the extras but also because I love them. I picked up A Hard Day’s Night, Gimme Shelter (a July rewatch), Transes and one I’ve never seen, Murray Lerner’s Festival. I also picked up maybe my favourite ever music doc, Les Blank’s A Poem Is A Naked Person, and a box set of Blank’s work which includes a ton of music, music-centric, or music related works that I can’t wait to get stuck into. Blank is fast becoming one of my favourite filmmakers.

July’s watchlist was heavy hitters galore as I was watching and rewatching for my Milestones chapter so films and filmmakers included The Last Waltz and other Scorsese works (is Rolling Thunder Revue his best music film maybe?), Jonathan Demme, Julien Temple and films about the Beatles, Stones and Bob Dylan. Big. One such film was Demme’s beautiful concert film Heart of Gold, focusing on Neil Young not long after surgery for a brain aneurysm. It’s a warm and soulful film and one I saw on DVD, in New York, on a lazy afternoon before heading home, while staying with my friend John Carlin (the JC who sent posted me some DVDs this month). I was tired, I was all New York-ed out, and John put it on and we loved it. It meant a lot, maybe more, than it would normally had because a couple of years earlier I had written a play called How It Plays Out, that John travelled to Luton to perform in as the lead, and in the play he performed a Neil Young song, Only Love Can Break Your Heart. John Carlin is a brilliant songwriter in his own right. Check out his work here and buy Songs From The Black House, it’s one of the best records ever made, Fact. I love him.

I also read the first book that will feature in my book since I started writing back last year (nearly 12 months ago!), Thomas F. Cohen’s Playing to the Camera: Musicians and Musical Performance in Documentary Cinema. It was invigorating. Not only is it a great book, but it reminded me why I am working on mine. I want to be in dialogue with these other works that exist, reach out to and pull from them and survey the land of ideas that is music documentary and the writing on it. I loved Cohen’s style and confidence too. It gave me strength to be more confident about my own writing. It was also nice to see so much time dedicated to Shirley Clarke’s Ornette: Made in America, a truly magnificent doc I loved writing about.

So over the next few months I shall be reading more and more for the book. I am excited. That trip to the BFI library (where I learned of Cohen’s book), really galvanised me, in ways I’m becoming more aware of as I think more and write less.

Don’t forget, you can track what I’m watching (and maybe try and work out which films I’m referring to above and in the note fragments below) via my Letterboxd list, here.

Don’t forget you can listen in to my book themed playlist here.

Here’s what I was listening to while writing in July:

Finally, a bit of fun. Here are my favourite notes from this month’s viewing sessions:

Demme knows

“I just wanna play well and share the stage with my friends”

“He had a lot of ukeleles in the trunk”

Imagine booing one of the greatest live shows ever by one of, if not the, greatest rock n roll backing bands of all time.

Joan Baez’s Dylan impression is bang on.

“I don’t even wanna get in tune”

People lying around everywhere.

Need a shower after watching this.

Babies, planes and Nick Cave

Bob Marley tats and flags

Coke in the nose

Clapton - boring

Bob looks amazing!

“you booed!”

Keroauc’s grave

“I don’t want this shit to work. I hate it”

Bawdy

Ludicrous outfit Mick

Chilly at the heliport

[kirbopher]

I went to see the "Mewtwo Strikes Back: Evolution" premiere at Anime-Expo!

Hey, everyone! I just returned from Anime-Expo where I was lucky enough to've seen the world premiere of the 22nd Pokemon film, Mewtwo Strikes Back: Evolution. Wanted to share some of my experiences on it!

I'll start with some information about the event, before going into details on the movie itself. First of all, this was (as far as I understand) the very first time any Japanese-language with English-subtitled Pokemon animation has been officially (and legally) released in North America (and possibly outside of Japan in general?) so I wanted to make sure I attended this pretty momentous occasion. The event itself was handled very well by the staff and there was a great bilingual host who oversaw the whole thing and really hyped up the audience. After the film screening was finished, the three related guests of honor, Kunihiko Yuyama (co-animation director), Motonori Sakakibara, (co-animation director) and Rica Matsumoto (Japanese voice actress of Satoshi/Ash) were brought to the stage to answer a few prepared questions and audience questions. Afterward, Rica Matsumoto performed "Mezase Pokemon Master" live for the audience, which was an absolute treat. Finally, after the reveal of Armored Mewtwo's upcoming appearance in Pokemon Go, we took a "family photo" with a mascot Pikachu making an appearance! The whole thing was a total blast.

Some key points involving the Q&A session:

Rica Matsumoto was in particular very excited to visit LA, especially because she had worked on the Japanese dub for Beverly Hills 90210 and got to visit the real location after wanting to for so long! In addition, she was so taken aback by the audience's enthusiasm for "Satoshi", knowing how they were far more familiar with "Ash", but felt a strong connection to them through the character and Pokemon in general. The two animation co-directors Mr. Sakakibara and Mr. Yuyama shared similar comments, being blown away by the audience's emotional reaction. The screening also gave them major nostalgic flashbacks to first working on the original over 20 years ago. They were also so grateful.

I was fortunate enough to be chosen to ask the first of the three audience questions. First, I thanked them for giving us the opportunity to see this film in its original language with subtitles, as this was a tremendous honor to begin with. After mentioning that the American fandom was very appreciative for the English dubbed version of the TV series and movies, I asked if they would be able to give us any other future opportunities to see ANY other Japanese-language Pokemon animation down the line. Mr. Yuyama said they have plans, with Rica Matsumoto following with "Count on it!!" Nothing further than that, but definitely a good sign!

The next question from the audience asked about a trailer featuring footage involving what appeared to be an older version of Misty, why it was cut and what its involvement was to the movie's early stages of development. Mr. Yuyama simply responded with (paraphrasing, here) "While that was meant to show the image of an adult, the character in question was not actually an older version of Misty. The haircut is very similar though, I can see why you would make that mistake!". Rica Matsumoto adds (again, paraphrasing) "It just goes show that there's so many pretty girls in Pokemon, it's easy to mistake them for each other sometimes!" (Personal note: obviously this is sort of 'dodging the actual question', but it's likely they either weren't allowed to go into detail as to what that early trailer was all about, or possibly forgot about the details since it had been so long ago.)

The final audience question asked about what led to the decision to re-do the original film with CG animation. Mr. Sakakibara mentioned that they had wanted to do a CG Animated Pokemon film for a long time, but thanks to the collaboration with the 3D animation studio they worked with (I've forgotten the studio's name unfortunately, sorry!) they were able to finally make it happen. They chose Mewtwo Strikes Back as the experiment piece in order to try pushing the original character animation even further with the expressiveness and emotion.

I'm sure fans of her know this already, but Rica Matsumoto is an absolute ROCK STAR on stage. She loved teasing the audience and getting them amped up, commanding us to get louder and louder! "When I say 'Pokemon', you say 'Getto da ze!'" was a real highlight. To her, "Mezase Pokemon Master" is THE defining Pokemon song.

Next, I'll talk about the film itself. To those of you who don't want to be potentially spoiled on some of the differences between this and the original movie, skip this part!

The subtitle track for the film used all of the official English names of all characters, including the humans, Pokemon creatures, attack names, locations and even the nicknames of the guest characters' starters ("Bruteroot" and "Shellshocker"). For the most part, the translation was very close to the original Japanese dialogue, but there were definitely a few liberties taken at times. Team Rocket's motto was changed to reflect the English adaptation ("Prepare for trouble and make it double" etc.) along with referring to Ash/Satoshi as "Twerp" (instead of "JARI-BOY!"). There was also a very obvious 'joke' on the translator's part involving a new scene where Brock/Takeshi hits on Neesha/Sweet, proclaiming something about his "jelly donuts" (ending in the ol' Misty-dragging-him-away-by-the-ear gag). As this scene had completely new dialogue, I wouldn't be able to cross-check whatever the 100% accurate translation would be off-hand. A couple other liberties taken (in a way), were that certain lines throughout the movie were word-for-word 'translated' as lines from the original English dub of Pokemon: The First Movie. Thankfully these were rare, but one that definitely sticks out was the "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you DO with the gift of life, that determines who you are." at the film's climax. Lastly, Mewtwo's words asking "Was I created by God?" and the scientists' response, were adapted in the subtitles as "Was I created by nature?". (Personal note: Likely this was to avoid flat-out religious references.)

The film begins with Dr. Fuji and his crew retrieving the Mew fossil from the ancient ruins. The "Birth of Mewtwo" sequence involving Amber/Ai is NOT included in this version of the story; the following scene leads directly into Mewtwo's awakening in the tube, to which the movie plays out as you remember it.

Dr. Fuji's laboratory is tremendously redesigned, but the same events transpire.

Mewtwo's armor is, as you've noticed, also fully re-designed. We see many re-directed (in terms of cinematography) scenes from the sequence of his servitude to Giovanni/Sakaki, including Gary/Shigeru's from-behind cameo. The main element of difference in the armor's usage is, just before blowing up the Team Rocket base upon defying Giovanni, it transforms into a binding 'prison' sort of state, to keep Mewtwo confined if he ever fought back...of course, he breaks it easily and flies off, just as before.

The first sequence where we see Ash, Misty/Kasumi and Brock starts a little earlier than in the original, showing Ash more excited and offering to help set up the table for lunch. It then cuts to slightly later where he's tired and slumped over the table. The Pirate Trainer "Raymond" appears again (still with all his glorious Engrish), now with a slight redesign involving bigger hair and the theme song battle sequence plays out. Worth noting, during the 3-on-1 against Pikachu, his Golem is replaced with a Drowzee. (Personal note: Likely to circumvent the "Thunderbolt should be ineffective against a Ground-type" argument.) We also see glimpses of Mewtwo and the mind-controlled Nurse Joy viewing the battle. Just before Dragonite shows up to deliver the invitation, we also see a bit of the gang's other Pokemon used in the movie: Vulpix, Psyduck, Squirtle, Bulbasaur and Charizard, eating Pokemon food.

LOTS more trainers in the dock scene. The pier master Miranda/Voyager actually speaks of Wingulls showing signs of how bad the storm is, warning everyone again. We see a few more trainers attempt to travel to New Island, including one who tries Surfing on their Kingler and another who is carried by their Scyther...neither of them make it, along with whoever tried flying with their Fearow like in the original. RIP.

The Vikings-the-mostly-live-in-Minnesota are replaced with an equally-funny costume theme of the Team Rocket trio as some tourist-trap sailors utilizing a Lapras-shaped ferry service. Brock comments on how conveniently they showed up and they all get on. We then get a very Disneyland 3D Attraction-style sequence of the two trios riding through the storm before it crashes and Misty sends out Staryu to try and save the day. Another extended sequence of Ash, Misty and Brock clinging for dear life to Staryu plays out, including a really gorgeous orchestral arrangement of...the Sun & Moon Wild Pokemon Battle theme, of all things!

Ash and the others meet the other guest trainers. This is where the short added scene of Brock hitting on Neesha is added.

In general, while the grand majority of the things that happen in each scene are the same as they are in the original, a lot of the animation is expanded upon and really pushed in terms of expressiveness. Often this makes them longer than how they were before, but it's definitely paced out properly to fit with the adjustments they made.

The battle arena sequence plays out and all 3 of the battles between Venusaur, Blastoise and Charizard Vs. their super-clones are extended with new fight choreography and additional attack exchanges, including with later-added techniques like Energy Ball and Leaf Storm. This scene also features a completely new background music track from the one used in the original film (later used quite a bit in the anime).

The sequence of Mewtwo capturing all of the humans' Pokemon plays out, also with new background music as opposed to the original. A few new shots of the trainers trying to guard their Pokemon from being captured are added.

After the super-clones emerge, Mew appears to save Ash from being splattered against a wall, the Pokemon and their clones brutally beat each other, now with new sweeping camera angles and new music instead of the original.

When Ash rejoins Misty and Brock after climbing down from the castle, a few bits of dialogue are slightly played around with, but leads to the same untimely demise. Some new DBZ-esque glow effects are applied to when Ash is struck by the two psychic blasts and his turned-to-stone state is a bit more like crystal. Pikachu trying to Thundershock Ash back to life lingers a bit more, to show the desperation in Pikachu's attempt. When the other Pokemon begin shedding their tears, their actual sounds aren't heard and the scene is silent minus the background music.

The memory erasure happens yet again, sending everyone back to the docks. From just after Ash sees Mew flying in the sky, commenting on it, up through Team Rocket's sign-off on the now-abandoned New Island, the orchestral arrangement of the Pokemon Red & Blue Credits theme plays. For the movie credits, we're treated to a new remix of "Kaze to Isshi Ni" (featuring Shokotan) along with some 2D paintings of Ash, Misty and Brock traveling. One shows a flock of Wingull near the dock area! At the end, we see Mewtwo and the clones flying off to what appears to be Mount Quena from the "Mewtwo Returns" TV special.

Finally, as is always the case, a very short teaser of the "Pokemon 2020" film, showing a 2D-animated Pikachu in the style of the Sun & Moon series.

There might have been some things I missed, but that's everything I could recount! If you have any other questions, I'll try and answer them as best as I can. To anyone else who was there for the screening, feel free to add anything else you like! Overall, highly recommend folks who enjoyed the original Mewtwo Strikes Back movie to go see this when the English version comes out!

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 1 - Orphans from the East

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they've made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally posted by loga-boga

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence.

Word Count: 4,699

Next Chapter

Playlist: “Red Dead Redemption 2 Trailer Theme” — L’Orchestra Cinematique, “Blessed Are The Peacemakers” — Woody Jackson, “Old Dog” — The Scratch

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A/N: Also available on AO3. So I've been obsessing over the Red Dead series since December and decided to finally bite the bullet and write a fic about my favourite cowboys and gals. That being said, this bad boy is the result of smashing heads together with a friend of mine, who is also a writer and contributing just as much to the narrative and characters. So this is essentially a mutual creation of ours and we hope y'all enjoy some western shenanigans with some Irish patriotism sprinkled on top. This is my first attempt at anything Red Dead related, so hopefully it isn't a steaming pile of trash! Any thoughts at all, comments are always welcome.

“What the hell is this?”

Arthur Morgan had found himself in many sticky situations in his short life, but standing with his revolver pointed at a pair of kids was definitely a new one.

Well, they were pointing their own guns right back at him, so it wasn’t exactly a situation that required basic manners.

“Looks like they got to our take first,” Dutch replied in disbelief from his spot between the two parties. Their agitated mounts continuously shuffled on their hooves, neighing restlessly as each rider did their best to focus on the newest threat before them. “Hold on a minute there, son—”

“Who are you lot?” the young boy demanded, with his revolver currently pointed directly at Dutch. Behind him, a girl had just finished shoving the much sought after contents of the stagecoach lockbox into a large bag. In her other hand was a gun pointed directly between Arthur’s eyes.

“You best drop that gun, you little shit!” a very wound up John Marston ordered. “Before I put a bullet in your head!”

The girl swiftly pointed her gun towards John, the threat apparently cutting deep. Despite her slight frame and obvious youth, her voice sounded confident from beneath her bandana. “Try it, greasy! I’ll take great pleasure in riddlin’ your fuck-ugly face!”

Of course, John was never one for staying calm. “You ain’t in charge here, little missy!”

“Marston!” Arthur cut in, seeing things spiralling quickly if they didn’t do something.  His furrowed brow was already covered in sweat beneath his hat. “Shut your damn mouth and take it easy!”

“No one needs to die here,” Hosea added, his voice surprisingly calm despite their current predicament. “We all need to relax.”

Dutch agreed and tried to take control of the situation as he always did. “My good friend here is right. How about lowerin’ your guns, fellers, and we can talk this out.”

The boy’s eyes flared on his mostly hidden face. “How about you get your monkeys to lower theirs first!”

While the insult barely fazed Arthur, John was a little more sensitive. “Shut your damn mouth!”

Well Jesus, this couldn’t possibly end well…

* * *

8th June, 1890, outside Waukesha, Wisconsin

Today is the day. Dutch wants me and Marston to scout out the road before the stagecoach comes through later this evening. It’ll be the kid’s first real try at a robbery like this, so Dutch thinks getting familiar with the area might help settle his nerves a little… I was against it at first, but he said we need the extra man if we’re going to deal with the Pinkerton escort afterwards.

As long as he keeps a cool head he should be fine, but he’s still not one for taking orders very well, even if he’s been with us for five years. Still young, dumb as shit, and eager to prove himself. I’m hoping he learns to listen though — Lord knows I’d hate to see anything happen to him.

* * *

“Grub’s up, folks! Grub’s up!”

Arthur closed over his journal at Pearson’s call. Glancing up to see the cook placing a steaming pot of stew over the fire, he returned the book to its spot on his bedside table. Morning had swiftly arrived at the camp, and most of the inhabitants were up and about already, attending to the many chores that needed doing. It was a clear and sunny day, with only a few fluffy white clouds littering the blue sky. The heat was somewhat intense despite the early hour and brought a light sheen of sweat to his forehead. This camp had been their home for some weeks now, and Arthur really didn’t mind. He quite liked it out here — he always preferred the open plains to dense cities. The cosy field where they now resided was situated on the bank of a river outside a small city called Waukesha. The surrounding lowlands were flat, open, and easy to traverse, but the gang was safely hidden from the nearest trail by a thick group of green trees. Though the region was home to some of Wisconsin’s largest cities, most of it was made up of farmland, so it was relatively easy for them to remain here without being noticed. He really hoped they could stay in these vast fields for some time. He could get used to travelling across the stretching green pastures atop Boadicea, and the first breath of fresh air he inhaled every morning bought a genuine smile to his face.

Arthur’s eyes flitted over the lightly dancing trees on the camp’s outskirts before looking to what had originally grabbed his attention. Though Pearson’s food was in dire need of some seasoning, his stomach rumbled at the prospects of a hot meal. He got to his feet, wiping some of his unruly hair out of his eyes, and went to get his share.

“Mornin’, Mr Morgan,” Susan greeted him as she grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Miss Grimshaw,” he replied with a nod, helping himself to a large bowl of stew.  “Mornin’.”

She took a seat on one of the nearby tables and urged him to join her.

With a shrug, he took a seat and set his bowl down. “Coffee good?”

“As always,” she said. “As long as it calms my nerves it’ll do.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?” he asked before taking a mouthful of stew and ignoring the mild bland taste.

“I seem to be more concerned with this stagecoach than you are!”

“You concerned about the coach, or the fact Marston will be near the coach?”

“He can be a headstrong little brat at times, but I’d rather not see him with a hole in his head.”

Miss Grimshaw shook her head in exasperation, but the gesture only brought a smirk to Arthur’s lips. She could be quite a harsh woman, especially when people lounged around and didn’t do their part in keeping everything running smoothly. Despite being the current flame of the ever flirtatious Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw refused to sit idly by and act like the lady of the manor. She was very much involved in ensuring that the camp remained a functioning unit. She was perfect for the role, probably because she could be positively terrifying if you didn’t help out.

“I’ll admit,” Arthur began, swallowing some food. “I wasn’t exactly happy ’bout the idea at first, but Dutch has faith in the little brat. And besides, he’s got me, Dutch, and Hosea lookin’ out for him. He’ll be fine as long as he does what we say.”

Susan eyed him carefully, but nodded, seemingly happy with his words. “As long as you do look out for him, Mr Morgan. You know how he can be — he reminds me a lot of you at that age.”

“Hey now! Don’t go comparin’ me to that fool—”

Miss Grimshaw cut across him with ease. “It is the reason you two get on so well, what with bein’ such like-minded individuals…”

Arthur finished his breakfast while she reeled off the many reasons why he and John were one and the same. Sometimes it as best just to keep his mouth shut, and this seemed like one such moment. His saving grace came when Dutch called him over to his tent.

“Mornin’, Dutch.”

“And a fine morning it is, son,” he replied with gusto and set down the book he had been reading. He offered Arthur a cigarette before taking one for himself. He lit the two, then continued on. “Hosea and Bessie took young John into town to get some supplies for tonight.”

“How’s he seem?” Arthur asked and took a drag.

“John? Seems fine to me. Maybe a little… let’s say, eager, to get goin’.”

“Still got faith in him?”

“O’course,” Dutch said, his voice firm. “We all gotta start somewhere, Arthur, you know that. He’s seventeen now, so it ain’t a bad age to get goin’. Heck, you did it even younger.”

He knew Dutch was right — there was no point letting John fester around camp doing nothing. They definitely didn’t need a second Uncle around the place, and Marston seemed keen to please… Or maybe he was just passionate about shooting something, who knew? It seemed that Dutch did though, and if there was someone whose opinion mattered, it was Dutch.

Arthur kept busy around the camp doing numerous chores while he waited for the trio to return. Chopping firewood and helping Pearson prepare their dinner for later at least meant that time flew by for him. He was playing fetch with Copper when John finally returned with Hosea and Bessie in tow. While the older couple went to check in with Dutch, Arthur and John mounted their horses and, with Copper running along side them, headed out down the road to the spot where they intended to rob the stagecoach.

“Why are we robbin’ it at this spot exactly?” Marston asked, scanning his eyes over the strip of dirt road.

“It’s the best distance outside town where a robbery won’t attract any attention,” Arthur explained, gently patting Boadicea. “The stagecoach is carryin’ bank transfers into Milwaukee, so you can bet that robbin’ it close to town would bring a whole heap of law on us. See that turn there?” He pointed off in the distance, tipping the brim of his hat to keep the shimmering sunlight out of his eyes. “It’s gonna come down that road there and loop this way. We’ll be waitin’ on this here ridge and hidden in some of the trees so that they don’t spot us.”

“What about them?” the younger boy asked. “They got any guns?”

“Four in total, if Hosea’s intel is right. So we should be able to take ’em out with the four of us. They’ll have a backup escort comin’ in from there, though.” He pointed up the road in the opposite direction. “’The bank in Milwaukee will be sendin’ out some of their own guns to meet the stagecoach just a little ways up the road, considerin’ this lil strip is so deserted. So we’re expectin’ maybe four more guns to show, which is why Dutch wants you involved. Once we rob the coach and the extra men arrive, there’ll be enough of us to take ’em out if needs be.”

“Sounds dangerous,” John mused, hanging on his every word.

Arthur let out a chuckle and proceeded to light himself a cigarette. “What, you scared, boy?”

“No! I ain’t scared, just bein’ honest about things.”

“You’ll do just fine,” the older man reassured him and offered him a cigarette. “You just need’a keep a cool head, and do as Dutch says. That’s how we make sure things go smoothly.” He paused to take a drag. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about if you do that.”

John nodded and puffed away to calm his nerves. “Thanks. I’m just glad that you’ll have my back, brother.”

“That’s what family is for,” Arthur responded with a small grin. He watched Copper as the dog sniffed along the roadside. “You’ll be fine.”

The two of them remained there for a few moments more as Arthur went over their plan of action in more detail. Though he knew how John could be, he was glad to see that he was eager to get to work. He hoped this wouldn’t make him over excited when the time came, but he thought back on what Dutch had said — he needed to put faith in his brother to do the job right. Thankfully, Marston had yet to give him a reason to doubt him so aggressively.

They returned to camp and waited out the rest of the day going over their plan with Hosea and Dutch. They had everything planned perfectly — it had to be, otherwise they could find themselves in a sticky situation once the Pinkerton escort arrived. Regardless, spirits were high at dinner time when Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, and young John mounted up and headed out to rob the stagecoach. They road through the fields in the late evening sun, avoiding the main road so that they wouldn’t be spotted ahead of time. The familiar buzz that came with performing robberies and the like was already stirring within Arthur’s chest. It was always risky business, but a part of him loved the thrill and feeling of power that came with these takes. Knowing that the money would be given to those who needed it most also gave him a nice sense of self-worth — it was one of the only things in his life that made him feel that way. He wasn’t a good man by any means, but he still tried to do some small bit of good where he could.

“And here we are,” Dutch announced from atop his horse as the group arrived at the waiting spot. He glanced at his pocket watch and nodded. “Right on time. Does everyone remember the plan?”

“O’course,” Arthur confirmed.

“Good. Now, cover your faces; we won’t be waitin’ too long for the stage to swing by.”

Arthur quickly pulled his bandana up to cover his mouth and nose and double-checked that his guns were fully loaded and ready to be used if things took a turn.

“Remember, gentlemen,” Dutch continued on. “No killing unless absolutely necessary.”

“Best of luck, everyone,” Hosea added.

Then the group descended into silence and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Arthur’s fingers flexed on his reigns. He could see John beginning to get anxious. Something definitely wasn’t right.

The only noise they could hear was the light breeze on the leaves above their heads, and the persistent ticking of Dutch’s pocket watch as he checked the time again.

“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Hosea whispered, mimicking Arthur’s own concerns. “They should have come through here by now.”

“Maybe you got the times wrong?” John suggested. “Or the place?”

Arthur shook his head. “That ain’t it. We heard from multiple people and all of them said it would come through this road at this time.”

“So what do we do then?”

“Well,” Dutch sighed, somewhat vexed with the development. He pulled down his bandana and turned to the rest of them. “We can’t stay here and wait for it to possibly arrive. I suggest we head up road and see do we come across it. But we stay out of sight and appear as inconspicuous as we can until I say otherwise.”

Hosea nodded and uncovered his face. “I agree. It’s definitely a better idea than waitin’ here and hopin’ for the best.”

“In that case, follow me, gentlemen.”

Arthur followed as the group made their way through the fields adjacent to the strip of road. They kept an eye out, but met no one along the way, and their anxiety only grew with each passing second. This was some take according to the locals, so missing it would be a great loss to the gang.

“Up ahead!” Dutch suddenly announced in a hushed tone.

Arthur looked up to see a stagecoach in the distance, stationary on the road. “Why’s it stopped?”

“Because,” Dutch growled out. “It’s bein’ robbed.”

“It’s what?”

“Somebody beat us to it! C’mon!”

Right well, this certainly wasn’t an outcome for which the gang was prepared. Arthur  hastily followed Dutch’s lead as their horses galloped up to the precious stage. He strained his eyes to get a look at who had intercepted the take before they even had a chance. The closer he got, the more information became apparent to him — two figures crowded the rear of the coach, one of whom was emptying its contents into a bag. The other stood by guarding her every move. The drivers and guards were nowhere to be found. At first, Arthur just assumed that the figures were small because of their position in the distance, but the closer he got, the more he realised that this was no normal robbery.

“It’s a pair of kids!” John exclaimed, disgust evident in his tone. “We got beaten to it by some damn kids!”

“Kids?” Arthur repeated in disbelief.

With the noise of their arrival, the pair of young thieves looked up from their prize to see four men thundering towards them on horseback. They were clothed in dirty outfits with bandanas hiding their identities. A quick once over told Arthur that it was boy and a girl who had managed to rob an obscene amount of money from the stage. How in the hell had two kids manage that?

Perhaps riding directly to them hadn’t been the best idea, as the pair were quick to point their guns at the gang.

“Hold on there!” Dutch called, grinding his mount to a halt and holding up his hands. The trio behind him followed suit, but Arthur and John instead chose to aim a weapon at each of them just in case.

“What the hell is this?” Arthur asked, completely dumbfounded with the situation they found themselves in.

“Cé hiad na leaids sin?” the girl asked her companion.

“The fuck you say?” John demanded, already losing his temper.

“Who are you lot?” the boy demanded, his eyes very skeptical already and completely unfazed by this strange man’s apparent aggression.

And now here they were — facing off against a pair of kids on a quiet dirt road. Sometimes Arthur really got tired of this shit.

“How about you get your monkeys to lower theirs first!”

“Take it easy, son,” Dutch answered calmly with his hands still raised. “We mean you no harm.”

“Your friends with the guns there don’t give us much comfort,” the girl replied in a thick Irish accent. “Now do as he said and get them to lower their weapons!”

“If you give me your word that you won’t shoot ’em, I will.”

“Is that a good idea?” Arthur asked, not exactly enjoying pointing his gun at a kid, but also not liking the idea of being defenceless.

“Trust me, Arthur. You and John, put the guns away.”

Arthur released a heavy sigh, but listened to his mentor and returned his gun to its holster. “Goddammit…”

John obliged, though he was far more hesitant to listen. A stern look from Hosea got the point across.

“Now,” Dutch announced. “We did as you asked. How about you meet us halfway and lower yours?”

The pair exchanged a knowing look before slowly lowering their revolvers, but not putting them away. The boy called out to them again. “Now, as I was sayin’, who are you lot and what do you want?”

“No harm in bein’ honest. We were the ones plannin’ on gettin’ that coach, but it seems like you beat us to it.”

“Not our problem,” the girl replied. “We got to it first, so you’s aren’t gettin’ any of it.”

Dutch shook his head. “We ain’t gonna steal it from you. You two earned it, fair and square. I don’t quite know how you managed it, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

“We’re used to bumping into rival gangs every now and then,” Hosea added with a goodnatured chuckle. “But not so used to seein’ kids out on jobs.”

“Yeah, well,” the girl grumbled. “You gotta get by somehow when you’ve nothin’ else.”

“Of course!” Dutch agreed. “We ain’t here to judge.”

As they spoke, Arthur briefly turned his head as the sound of horses grabbed his attention. He looked back down the road from where they came, and suddenly remembered an important detail of the plan. “Awh, shit. We got company!”

“Wait, what?” the boy asked, looking baffled. “What’s goin’ on?”

“The Pinkertons!” Hosea confirmed just as the escort appeared at the end of the trail. “How many we got, Arthur?”

“I see six comin’ in!” he confirmed, looking through his binoculars at the patrol heading down the road.

“That’s more than expected!” John commented in dismay.

“Pinkertons?” the young girl repeated. “What Pinkertons?”

“An escort sent to meet the stagecoach,” Dutch elaborated. “I assume by your confused expressions that you two didn’t know about that part.”

“Jaysus Christ,” the boy muttered and drew a carbine from his back. “No, we didn’t.”

“Well then I think your best odds are to come with us, or you can stay here and try to fight off six guns.”

The kids shared a look again before the girl spoke first in a language that Arthur didn’t understand. “Cad a dhéanfaimid anois?”

The boy shook his and gave her hand a squeeze. “Níl an dara rogha againn. Let’s get outta here.”

“You got horses?”

“No,” the girl explained. “We came on foot.”

“Well then, you hop up here with me, son, and your partner can jump on with my friend, Mr Morgan, there.”

The boy took Dutch’s outstretched hand and hauled himself on to the back of the horse, while Arthur offered the girl a hand and helped to pull her up behind him. “Hold on tight now, you hear?”

“I’ll be grand,” she replied, though he could hear the hint of fear in her voice. “Just move.”

Just as shouts and some shots rang out from the arriving escort, the gang sped off and through a nearby bunch of trees in an effort to lose their pursuers. Arthur felt the young girl hold on to his shoulders tightly as he pushed Boadicea as hard as she could go. The noise of the horses thundering along and jumping over bushes and fences was one that he knew well, and one that was always accompanied by a small amount of worry and excitement. He could hear John and Hosea urging their mounts forwards, realising how risky it was being out in the open like this. The head start thankfully gave them a decent advantage over the Pinkertons as they spend through the Wisconsin fields. Unfortunately, despite the distance between them and the men chasing them, the Pinkertons persisted and were hard to lose.

“They’re still on us,” the girl shouted from behind him. “You’s need to do somethin’!”

“I know,” Arthur answered, breathing in deep. “Just lemme think.”

“What about those trees?” William called, pointing to the outskirts of a bunch of greenery just in front of them.

Right on queue, bullets whizzed over their heads, some a mile off and others unnervingly close.

Arthur let out a huff and ducked his head down as one very nearly got him. “Keep your head down, girl! We’re sittin’ ducks out in the open like this!”

“We can lose them in there!” Dutch confirmed. “We just need to make it past the tree line.”

Behind them, the rate of gunfire began to increase the closer they got to the safety of the trees. The escort clearly knew that they’d lose them amidst the thick foliage. Thankfully, the trees drew closer and closer and their bullets managed to miss their targets as they shifted side to side to throw them off. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as they breached the tree line and slowed to navigate between the brush. He felt the girl’s grip on his frame ease up a little with their new cover and he gave her a swift glance to see how she was holding up.

Dutch called out orders to once more grab their attention. “Everyone, veer left and follow me!”

They manoeuvred carefully between the tall trees and bushes, keeping a careful eye out behind them incase the escort appeared on their tail once more. Thankfully, as they weaved to and fro between the shrubbery, the Pinkertons weren’t seen again. When they finally broke through the edge of the forest and reappeared in an open field, the sun had just about set on the distance and the threat seemed to have been lost.

The horses were eased to a halt and Arthur placed a loving pat on trusty Boadicea’s neck. “You did good, girl.”

“Everyone alright?” Hosea asked the group. The responses he received were unanimously positive though out of breath.

“That certainly could’ve gone worse,” the boy mused as he jumped from The Count.  Seeing no danger around, he pulled his bandana back down to reveal his youthful face. Arthur was surprised to see just how young he was — he looked to be about the same age as he was when he first joined the gang. Despite this, he looked like he was sleeping rough, with a dirty face and a fresh red scar that ran over his right brow and down his cheek. “But at least nobody got shot.”

Arthur noticed the girl dismounting to join her companion and she too pulled off her mask. She seemed just as young as him and showed signs of dirt and older scars. Immediately she went to the boy’s side and gave him a once over. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile and let out a huff as he got his breath back. “I’m grand. Are you?”

“Yeah. Thankfully these lads are good riders.”

She wiped her brow and reached back to tie her messy brown hair out of her face as Dutch addressed them. “I thought you two did pretty good out there, considerin’ you managed that stage all on your own.”

“Yeah, bar the squad that we weren’t even remotely prepared for showin’ up,” the girl replied with a pained smile. She looked up at Dutch and gave him a thankful nod. “We definitely would’a been captured or worse if it wasn’t for you lot.”

“Outlaws gotta stick together in times like these,” he said calmly. “We’re livin’ in different times, and we’re just tryin’ to survive.”

The boy nodded in agreement and then shared a look with the girl. “We appreciate the help Mister, uh…”

“Van der Linde,” Dutch replied and reached out to shake their hands. “Dutch van der Linde. These are my friends, Hosea Matthews, Arthur Morgan, and young John Marston.”

“I’m Maebh Hennigan,” the girl replied. “And this is my brother, William.”

“A pleasure. Can I ask, is it just the two of you? No parents or family around?”

Maebh flinched slightly at the question. “Uh, yeah. Our parents died a while back and the rest of our family is back in Ireland. We have nothin’, so we have to rob sometimes to get by. But that doesn’t matter, we owe you’s a lot for this. I suppose it's only fair that we give you’s a bit of the money from the stage.”

Dutch grinned at her suggestion and Arthur recognised that look almost immediately. He could already see his leader’s mind coming up with his next plan of action. Based on everything that happened today, he thought he had an idea of what it might be. “That’s a very kind offer, Miss Hennigan, but I actually have an offer for you.”

Maebh and William met each others gaze before the latter sceptically asked. “You have an offer for us?”

“As I already said, outlaws have to stick together if we want to get by out here. It’s the best way to ensure that we survive, that we live.”

Dutch was descending into a classic rousing speech with which Arthur and the group were quite familiar. He had heard it many times himself when he needed a bit of self belief in what they were doing. The most notable time he heard it was when he first met Dutch and Hosea as an unruly fifteen year old with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Yes, this was certainly an encounter with which he had some personal experience.

Atop The Count, Dutch stretched out his arms in a welcoming gesture and grinned from ear to ear. “If we want to live like Americans, then we got to have each others backs, no matter how tough or worrisome things may be. You need a family, you need stability, you need to know that you are safe. But I think that today is a sign of what you both could have.” He paused and Maebh and William hung on every word. “My offer to you two, is how’d you like to join my gang?”

[breakingmllc]

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Last night I congratulated donald trump and offered to work with him on behalf of our country I hope that he will be a Anyone But Him Donald Trump T Shirt successful president for all americans this is not the outcome we wanted or we worked so hard for and I m sorry we did not win this election for the values we share and the vision we hold for our country but I feel pride and gratitude for this wonderful campaign that we built together this vast diverse creative unruly energized campaign you represent the best of america and being your candidate has been one of the greatest honors of my life I know how disappointed you feel because I feel it too and so do tens of millions of americans who invested their hopes and dreams in this effort this is painful and it will be for a long time but I want you to remember this our campaign was never about one person or even one election it was about the country we love and about building an america that s hopeful inclusive and big hearted we have seen that our nation is more deeply divided than we thought but I still believe in america and I always will and if you do too then we must accept this result and then look to the future donald trump is going to be our president we owe him an open mind and the chance to lead our constitutional democracy enshrines the peaceful transfer of power and we don t just respect that we cherish it it also enshrines other things the rule of law the principle that we re all equal in rights and dignity and the freedom of worship and expression we respect and cherish these things too and we must defend them and let me add our constitutional democracy demands our participation not just every four years but all the time so let s do all we can to keep advancing the causes and values we all hold dear making our economy work for everyone not just those at the top protecting our country and protecting our planet and breaking down all the barriers that hold anyone back from achieving their dreams we ve spent a year and a half bringing together millions of people from every corner of our country to say with one voice that we believe that the american dream is big enough for everyone for people of all races and religions for men and women for immigrants for lgbt people and people with disabilities our responsibility as citizens is to keep doing our part to build that better stronger fairer america we seek and I know you will I am so grateful to stand with all of you I want to thank tim kaine and anne holton for being our partners on this journey it gives me great hope and comfort to know that tim will remain on the front lines of our democracy representing virginia in the senate to barack and michelle obama our country owes you an enormous debt of gratitude for your graceful determined leadership and so do I to bill chelsea marc charlotte aidan our brothers and our entire family my love for you means more than I can ever express you crisscrossed this country on my behalf and lifted me up when I needed it most even 4 month old aidan traveling with his mom I will always be grateful to the creative talented dedicated men and women at our headquarters in brooklyn and across our country who poured their hearts into this campaign for you veterans this was a campaign after a campaign for some of you this was your first campaign ever I want each of you to know that you were the best campaign anyone has had to all the volunteers community leaders activists and union organizers who knocked on doors talked to neighbors posted on facebook even in secret or in private thank you to everyone who sent in contributions as small as 5 and kept us going thank you and to all the young people in particular I want you to hear this I ve spent my entire adult life fighting for what I believe in I ve had successes and I ve had setbacks sometimes really painful ones many of you are at the beginning of your careers you will have successes and setbacks too this loss hurts but please please never stop believing that fighting for what s right is worth it it s always worth it and we need you keep up these fights now and for the rest of your lives to all the women and especially the young women who put their faith in this campaign and in me I want you to know that nothing has made me prouder than to be your champion I know that we still have not shattered that highest glass ceiling but some day someone will hopefully sooner than we might think right now and to all the little girls watching right now never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world finally I am grateful to our country for all it has given me I count my blessings every day that I am an american and I still believe as deeply as I ever have that if we stand together and work together with respect for our differences strength in our convictions and love for this nation our best days are still ahead of us you know I believe we are stronger together and will go forward together and you should never be sorry that you fought for that scripture tells us let us not grow weary in doing good for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart my friends let us have faith in each other let us not grow weary let us not lose heart for there are more seasons to come and there is more work to do I am incredibly honored and grateful to have had this chance to represent all of you in this consequential election may god bless you and god bless the united states of america. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the hosts brasil for an incredible experience during our time in brasil thanks for all the support a special thanks to all our fans in holland brasil and everywhere around the world you’ve been truly amazing and I would like to thank our own family’s friends for your great support towards all of us players staff during the wc in brasil especially my own beautiful family who are always there for me to support me whatever happens in good and bad times thats what family is about I love you bouchra shaqueel dina one love ️ ️ ️. My official mimibot got a festive makeover ️ come chat with me get your playlist and you ll see what I mean don t forget to tweet me your playlists so I can listen smarturl it mariahcareychatbot See Other related products: Corona Extra and shirt

[unbreakablejemmasimmons]

Dear Yuletide Writer,

Thanks for signing up for this superfun exchange! This is the fourth year I’ve participated now, and I’ve always enjoyed it-- I hope you do, too.

Below you’ll find the following:

General Likes/Kinks

General DNWs

Fandom Specifics/Prompts

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - Rebecca Bunch, Greg Serrano

Schitt’s Creek - Stevie Budd, David Rose

The Good Place - Eleanor Shellstrop, Trevor the Demon

Newsies - Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Jack Kelly

I’ve tried to list some varied prompts for each fandom, but please don’t feel like you have to stick to what I’ve come up with! If the rest of my letter gives you another idea you’d like to write, I’d love to read it!

A little about me to start:

My AO3 name is SuburbanSun; you can also check out my Tumblr if you’d like, and my tags for each of my requested fandoms (that I’ve posted about before-- apparently that excludes Schitt’s Creek!) here: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, The Good Place, Newsies.

General Likes/Kinks:

I’m a big trope fan in general– faves include rivals/enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, bed-sharing, trapped in an enclosed space, mutual pining, secret dating/sneaking around, slow burn, FWBs that turns into something more. Subversions of tropes are also great, so don’t feel like you have to go the obvious route if you choose to write something tropey!

I have a weird (not weird because it’s uncommon, more weird because it doesn’t fit in obviously with the rest of my likes and favored tropes) love for Secret Service/bodyguard/witness protection AUs and private eye AUs.

Epistolary fic, either as part of a story or as all of it, is always fun to me, if it’s up your alley. 

I love strong female friendships, strong-but-flawed-and-realistic female characters in general. Ladies kicking ass, preferably through cleverness and wit and competence as much if not more than through brawn, is the best, and I love it when they’re allowed to make mistakes and fuck up and dig themselves into a hole, too. That said, I will literally never turn down a Vampire Slayer AU. They’re among my faves. (I loved the one I got for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend last Yuletide, but am always excited to see more of them for other fandoms!)

Smut is cool and fun and here are some kinks that I like to read: Teasing. Phone sex/sexting. Semi-public sex (not actually getting caught though). Workplace sex. Dirty talk. Light domination (aka more like just bossing each other around rather than actual D/s stuff). Oral sex. Playfulness/joking around during sex.

General DNWs:

Darkfic. Sad endings. Gore/intense violence. Miscommunication that could super easily be avoided. Babyfic/kidfic/pregnancy in general. Self-harm/abuse. Noncon/dubcon. A/B/O, mpreg, incest, bestiality, hard kink. Poly/threesomes/orgies. Members of my ships being paired romantically with other people (unless it’s just briefly, on the way to an OTP-happy ending). First person POV.

Fandom Specifics/Prompts:

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Rebecca Bunch, Greg Serrano

I love this show so much. It’s clever, it’s feminist, it’s funny, it’s real (even as it features elaborate musical sequences!), and the characters are so flawed but so great. I got a couple of great giftfics for this fandom last Yuletide that I loved, but I’m always excited to read more.

I ship Rebecca and Greg so hard, in spite of their many flaws, and am bummed that Greg’s gone, and hope they find a way to bring him back someday. I just love their chemistry– bickery battle-of-wits style relationships are a huge favorite of mine. I also really just love Rebecca as a character. She’s such a mess and makes so many mistakes but I find her really relatable.

I’m very interested to see where the show goes this season with Rebecca’s revenge plot and seeming descent into (back into?) madness, but I don’t know that Greg easily fits into that trajectory for now, so don’t feel like you need to write something that takes place in current canon. I’d be happy with a story set while Greg was still in West Covina, or a future fic, or just a total AU.

Prompts:

Rebecca/Greg + any number of tropes– stuck somewhere together; inconvenient bed-sharing; fake dating, the works.

Rebecca’s blindness toward money is intriguing to me, in a “when is this shit going to REALLY hit the fan” kind of way. What if that had come to a head somehow and she had to get a second job at Home Base? How would she and Greg have taken to working together into the wee hours of the night? (Store-room sex could be a good addition here if you’d like!)

What’s their dynamic like in a couple of years when Greg returns from Atlanta? Are they over each other or not quite so much?

Conversely, what if a couple years go by, and Rebecca feels compelled to leave West Covina? Maybe she moves back to NYC (hopefully after a few hundred hours of therapy with Dr. Akopian to give her the coping mechanisms she needs to be happy there). Maybe Greg moves to NYC for a job after graduating Emory. Have they kept in touch enough to know they’re both in the same city again, or do they run into each other randomly, an echo of her NYC run-in with Josh in the pilot, only better, because she’s older and wiser and hopefully better-adjusted?

Schitt’s Creek Stevie Budd, David Rose

This show is so funny, dry and ridiculous at the same time. I love how absurdly out of touch the Roses are, and how the show balances their outrageousness with the humdrum middle-America of the town of Schitt’s Creek.

I can’t help but ship Stevie and David, and I hope the show leans into that. If you aren’t into them romantically, though, that’s okay-- they are also fab as begrudging BFFs. I love how they challenge each other and one-up each other, always smirkingly pushing each other’s buttons.

*Note: Season 3 was only just added to Netflix US this week, so when I wrote this letter I hadn’t seen it yet. I just marathoned it (loved it obvs) and it’s pretty clear that they’re not going go lean into Stevie/David, and that’s ok! I’m really digging the Patrick thing so far too. For the purpose of Yuletide, feel free to write something that takes place earlier in the series, or goes AU, etc. 

Prompts:

David finds out Stevie’s birthday is coming up, and decides (or perhaps is convinced by Alexis) to throw her a party, as posh as the parties of his old life with the limited resources of Schitt’s Creek. Of course, everything goes wrong.

I love Stevie teaching David how to adult. What other normal things has he never experienced before that she needs to walk him through?

Schitt’s Creek throws a fall festival, complete with a parade. Stevie gets chosen to be Sweet Potato Pie Queen or something equally ridiculous, and David will never. Stop. Teasing. Her. Until the Sweet Potato Pie King (or similar) comes down with shingles and Roland insists David step in.

Somehow (perhaps through a series of dares?), Stevie winds up running for local government. 

The Good Place Eleanor Shellstrop, Trevor the Demon

There’s not much on Earth I love more than a Mike Schur show, and I’ve always loved Kristen Bell, so I was pretty destined to dig this show. It’s just so clever and interesting and fun to watch!

That said, I wasn’t really shipping anything on the show yet. I like all the characters but nothing leapt out for me romantically. But then they introduced Trevor, and the thing is, Adam Scott is my weakness. If he exists on a show, I can’t help but ship him with somebody, and I have loved his and KBell’s chemistry together in other shows (Party Down! VMars!). I’m not proud of it, but my mind immediately went there.

But things are a little more complicated now! Is Trevor just a Bad Place demon who was acting like the head of the Bad Place, or does he actually hold some kind of leadership role? Is “Trevor” even his real name?? There are so many possibilities! I’m cool with fic that assumes any of them are true.

Prompts:

Trevor has a bad day at the "office," because he's really just a Bad Place underling who enjoyed the chance to play a big-shot evil-doer in Michael’s first attempt. He somehow runs into Eleanor get sloppy drunk together.

Eleanor and Trevor have to team up for some reason-- so he can get ahead in Bad Place bureaucracy, and so she can try to defeat Michael, for instance. How does that work out?

Any sort of stuck together/trapped in an enclosed space tropefic would be great– especially if they start to have feelings for each other.

Nothing wrong with a little good oldfashioned hatesex.

Newsies Jack Kelly, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer

A friend of mine invited me to go see Newsies when they did the first Fathom Events screening early this year, and I had nearly no familiarity with it-- hadn’t even seen the movie. So naturally, I loved it and immediately fell down the Newsies rabbit hole.

I love Jack and Katherine individually and together. I love how cocky he is, and the vulnerability that cockiness masks. I love how headstrong she is, and ambitious. I would love to see fic for them that takes place after the events of the show-- what happens next? How do they begin to have a real relationship, as different as they are, now that the strike is over? Does Jack take that cartoonist job? Does he keep selling papes, too? Where do they live? What do they do on dates?

Prompts:

Even out from under her father’s thumb, Katherine’s lifestyle is certainly a bit ritzier than what Jack’s used to. How does it go the first time she has him over to her apartment?

Jack likes to leave little notes around for Katherine to find, sketches, doodles, and the like. I’m not opposed to epistolary fic here or elsewhere.

Katherine has to plot with the other newsies behind Jack’s back, for some reason (surprise party? Surprise gift?).

So, that’s that! I really hope you enjoy the whole process this Yuletide season, and thanks for participating! Happy writing!

[ifitzpatrick]

Fantastic Beast and Where To Find Them: The Post-Post-Post Review

I’ve got to be honest. I was heavily skeptical about seeing Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. I grew up with Harry Potter, but I found myself exhausted, I wanted to keep my memories with myself and keep that magical journey alive. When I heard about this movie and I just sighed and went, “Really?”

I asked three questions. Why this movie? Why not the Marauders? Wait… Isn’t Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a field guide? The first two questions I have yet to get answers for, but the third one is yes.

Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them originated as a field guide of fantastic beasts and how to care for them, written by Newt Scamander throughout his journeys around the world. For the movie, this book expands into a two hour and twelve minute magical journey of Newt, his journey to NY and you guessed it… some fantastic beasts.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them begins with Newt’s (Eddie Redmayne) traveling to NY in the 1920s. We aren’t sure why he’s there, but we’re sure that he’s there carrying a very important suitcase of magical creatures. Newt is a magizoologist, meaning he’s a magical zoologist. He’s traveled across the world in order to write his book, but an incident lands him into deep trouble when a small magical creature lets itself loose, causes a little mayhem in a bank and Newt uses magic in the open and in front of a No-Maj (non-magical person or muggle), named Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler). After another incident (this kid just can’t stay out of trouble), we figure out that the suitcases have been switched and what happens? Well… the Fantastic Beasts are let loose of course. The story starts to open up and meet our lively cast of characters including the person who will help (and hurt) Newt’s quest to catch his animals, a ex-Auror named Porpentina “Tina” Goldstein (Katherine Waterston) and we meet her sister, Queenie Goldstein (Alison Sudol).

However, underneath the good, there has to be something sinister afoot. Gellert Grindelwald is on the loose. The newspapers are having a field day with that while something magical has not only destroyed some of New York, but plans to keep on destroying and almost expose wizards and witches to all No-Maj’s. Percival Graves (Colin Farrell) is on the hunt, but also in search for something else. A child who may hold a certain type of magic that he seeks to control. In order to do this, he recruits a little help from Credence Barebone (Ezra Miller), a member of the New Salem Philanthropic Society (an anti-witchcraft group), to help him on his mission.

At first, knowing that Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was a field guide leaves you with some questions of how they were going to present this movie. How do you make a field guide into a two hours movie? Easy, you start when he’s just about to finish. One last journey he takes before actually finishing his book. This movie, written by J.K. Rowling herself, is build around and perfect in it’s simplicity. You catch up with the action, even though there’s so much going on. That’s one thing I loved about the writing in this movie. It was predictable, you knew what was going to happen, but does it really matter? You’re more or less hooked on diving into this story and getting to know these characters, almost similar to wanted to know them in Harry Potter. The simplistic writing gave the chance for the characters to make this story their own and the plot to really keep moving instead of standing still in one place.

Speaking of the characters, they’re all just so lovely. It’s not entirely rare that an entire cast charms you, but this cast does an amazing job bringing their characters to life.  You don’t expect to fall in love with them as fast as you do, but they’re so lively and lovely that you just melt. A character that you fall for easily is Newt. Once he gets his luggage checked and off to the streets of New York, his head cocked slightly as he looks up at the setting around him. You instantly want to grab him and kiss him. He’s adorable and he’s our protagonist. You immediately want to follow him on his journey no matter what. The other characters catch you too, Jacob, the No-Maj fits into this world like a glove and takes it all in like he’s made to live in it. Sisters, Tina and Queenie, are great in this. The girls are so different, but play off one another with such a grace and charm that both of them capture. Queenie, you instantly fall in love with. She embodies the 1920s look to a tee. Tina is not so easy to fall in love with at first, but once you get to know her and understand where she’s coming from, she starts to grow on you.

The one character I personally and completely fell in love with was Credence Barebone. He has such a tragic backstory and has to deal with the ultimate manipulative figures of the story. It’s not easy to write about abuse in this type of setting, but as unexpected as this was, it was brilliant and made the movie dark. You just want to give him all the love he deserves.

There’s so many magical moments inside of the film. You never really feel stuck in this universe, they’re literally always running around and doing something. Even inside of Newt’s briefcase, there’s another magical world. The plot felt like it just kept going and it took off on it’s own. There’s were some lovely parts, like the love story brewing between Queenie and Jacob, but it came with it’s sad parts too, like Credence and his relationship with his “mum”. There’s a whole new magical world to explore. There were many nods to Harry Potter, keeping up with the fact that it’s set pre-HP, but it really never draws back on that. There was even an acknowledgment to the American school, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This world never looks back, only forward. The one thing I loved about it was it was it’s own confined franchise. Easter eggs are put into place, but you it has it’s own history, it has it’s own place in the legacy and it shines on it’s own.

VERDICT: SEE IT! There’s a simple and charming magic to Fantastic Beasts. The nostalgia of this world really makes it pop into something you’ve never seen before. I never thought that within the series we’d be traveling to America to learn what happens here, but we do. I found myself fasinated with the hidden wizarding world of NYC. I found myself relating to these characters, especially Newt’s want to protect the magical creatures so dear to him. I found myself loving this world deeper and deeper, even though it was a bit darker and sinister than Harry Potter. It wasn’t like the series that I grew up with and that’s okay, because this story works within it’s own magic. There are things within this story that are still left out, but it just proved to be more material that you could dive into within this world.

ALSO BY THE WAY: UM… THE WIZARDING WORLD HAD A BLACK PRESIDENT BEFORE WE DID? 1920’S GUYS! GOOD JOB WIZARDING WORLD. KUDOS TO YOU. WE’RE GONNA END THIS REVIEW WITNESSING THIS STRONG UPSTANDING WOMAN.

[bookclub4m]

In this 80 minute episode we talk about Essay Collections! We get into some deep topics this time, talking about precarity, race relations, and cultural differences between Canada and the USA. We also wonder if it’s possible to find books about feminism that blow your mind when you’re already familiar with the idea. Plus! The three kinds of CanLit and knowing what a zine isn’t.

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through iTunes, Stitcher, Google Play, Spotify, or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | RJ

Books We Read This Month

My Conversations with Canadians by Lee Maracle

Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed: Sixteen Writers on The Decision Not To Have Kids edited by Meghan Daum

We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The TED Talk version

Beyoncé - ***Flawless ft. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

One Day We'll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter by Scaachi Koul

Rape Culture Is Surveillance Culture

Close to the Machine: Technophilia and its Discontents by Ellen Ullman

Toy Time!: From Hula Hoops to He-Man to Hungry Hungry Hippos: A Look Back at the Most- Beloved Toys of Decades Past by Christopher Byrne

This Will Be My Undoing: Living at the Intersection of Black, Female, and Feminist in (White) America by Morgan Jerkins

Curry: Eating, Reading, and Race by Naben Ruthnum

Men Explain Things to Me by Rebecca Solnit

The original essay

Browse: The World in Bookshops edited by Henry Hitchings

Other Media and Authors We Mention

Hark! RJ’s holiday music podcast

Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Y. Davis

Mary Roach

The New Kings of Nonfiction

In Fact: The Best of Creative Nonfiction

David Sedaris

So Sad Today: Personal Essays by Melissa Broder

Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed

Joe Sacco

Chainmail Bikini: The Anthology of Women Gamers

The Secret Loves of Geek Girls

Dave Barry

Chuck Klosterman

Why I am no Longer Talking to White People About Race (Meghan is talking about this book when she mentions the British conservative politician who thinks people should just get better jobs instead of more affordable housing)

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay

How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America by Kiese Laymon

The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks about Race

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit

Bear by Marian Engel

Pain Woman Takes Your Keys, and Other Essays from a Nervous System by Sonya Huber

Best American Science and Nature Writing Series

The State of Play: Creators and Critics on Video Game Culture

Rise of the Videogame Zinesters by Anna Anthropy

Crash Override: How Gamergate (Nearly) Destroyed My Life, and How We Can Win the Fight Against Online Hate by Zoe Quinn

Links, Articles, and Things

Book Riot Insiders Forum

Hogan's Alley, Vancouver

“Hogan's Alley was the first and last neighbourhood in Vancouver with a substantial concentrated black population.”

What Is CanLit? by Douglas Coupland

“CanLit is when the Canadian government pays you money to write about life in small towns and/or the immigration experience. If the book is written in French, urban life is permitted, but only from a nonbourgeois viewpoint.”

Questions

What’s the difference between essays and chapters?

Is a blog post an essay?

How long can an essay be?

Is long form journalism an essay?

Is a journal issue an essay collection?

Do you like it when authors use personal and self-reflective frameworks as part of the essay format?

Are you attending ALA in New Orleans? Want to be on this podcast? Get in touch!

Check out our Pinterest board and Tumblr posts, follow us on Twitter, join our Facebook Group, or send us an email!

Join us again on Tuesday, May 1st when we’ll talk about Separating the Art from the Artist!

Then come back on Tuesday, May 15th when we’ll be talking about Comedic/Humourous Science Fiction and Fantasy.

[drinkyourfuckingmilk]

Do you have any particular documentaries you like ?

yes I have a list!!! I’ll copy and paste an old one I’ve used and updated recently. though a lot of the documentaries I watch are crime/psychology related so some of these are going to be morbid, just a heads up. 

the crime/psychology list

- Making a Murderer: this one is on netflix, looks at possible police corruption, wrongful imprisonment and analyses a current murder trial. it’s pretty damn popular and it’s brilliantly well done (though frustrating on a lot of levels) so check it out. it’s about a current case too so there’s still new information to look up. 

- There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane: a family tries to investigate what really happened the day diane schuler fatally drove into oncoming traffic with 6 children in her car. this one haunts me for some reason, not a lot of it makes sense in terms of her character. 

- Dear Zachary: A Letter to His Son About His Father: very tragic story but good insight into how the justice system and child protective services need constant reevaluation and scrutiny, and the story also features probably the bravest and most supernaturally compassionate and strong couple I’ve ever seen like if you want just an example of two incredible human beings then pay attention to the mother and father. 

The Boy Who Should Have Lived: looks at the story of a boy with a mental illness, his parents struggle to get him help and how the system utterly fucking failed him. 

The 9/11 Faker: a woman who got away with pretending to be a survivor of 9/11 and the aftermath of her actions within the survivor group she totally fooled. 

The Imposter: amazing documentary on a man who pretended to be a long lost missing child and disturbingly fooled a lot of people. I didn’t even think this one was real until the end. 

- Back From the Edge: documentary on borderline personality disorder that interviews people living with the disorder (women AND men which is good, because borderline can seem like it presents quite differently in either gender).

- Boy Interrupted: about a boy named evan who suffered from bipolar disorder from a very young age. it looks at the genetic influences, how it affected the family in the aftermath, and it’s heartbreaking to see how the illness manifests itself in such a young child. 

- Just Melvin, Just Evil: this one is centered around a large extended family and how child sexual abuse has affected its members. it’s got very triggering content for abuse survivors so avoid it if that’s a problem for you, but it’s actually a really important insight into how abuse contributes to poverty, alcoholism, dysfunction, self-harm, mental health issues and how that cycle is perpetuated)

- Child of Rage: looks at the rehabilitation of a child suffering from reactive attachment disorder which is when a child fails to develop emotional attachment or empathy for others (sometimes being the foundation of sociopathy/psychopathy), in this case due to sexual abuse and neglect. it involves recordings of therapy sessions with a young girl who experienced this and how she is treated for the disorder.

- Interview with Expert FBI Criminal Profiler: basically just an interview with one of my role models John Douglas who probably has one of the most extensive careers as a criminal profiler and conducted a huge body of research that contributed to the most effective methods of catching killers and preventing crime.

Love Crimes of Kabul: follows several women in a Afghanistan prison and their stories of what “crimes” had them imprisoned (just dont look through the comment section. this applies to all videos obviously but this one in particular). 

History of the Capital Punishment: kinna self explanatory but really awesome because crime AND history.

Broadmoor: documentary on a psychiatric facility in Britain that contains violent offenders who suffer from mental illness, and looks at the rehabilitation process and at the morality of treating or punishing the patients/offenders)

India’s Daughters: documentary on the issue of rape culture in India and the sociopolitical aftermath of the rape and murder of a medical student, Jyoti.

Thin: follows several women in a treatment facility for eating disorders.  

and if you’re just interested in crime and profiling etc then you can find most good 30 - 40 min crime documentaries on youtube from Crime Investigation Channel but keep in mind these can be quite full-on since some of them have “dramatic reenactments” of crime (and tbh some of them go over the top to the point where I feel like it can get disrespectful)

some history yaaaayyyy

Nanking: an interesting documentary that revolves around the foreigners who stayed behind in Nanking to create a Safety Zone for 200,000 chinese residents fleeing from the atrocities committed by the invading japanese military. It uses narration by actors and interviews with actual witnesses and survivors of the time. 

Sorrowful Homecoming: a korean documentary (with subtitles) that follows a japanese journalist Takashi Ito who has been interviewing and advocating for korean survivors used as “comfort women” during wartime by japanese soldiers. this one is very upsetting and has a lot of sexual violence described so keep that in mind before you watch it.  

The Romanov Dynasty: mini documentary series about each tsar and tsarina who ruled during the 300 year long romanov dynasty. IT’S SO WELL DONE and was made with so much love. 

Marie Antoinette Documentary: one of the best documentaries on the historical bae who has always been grossly misunderstood and misrepresented even in modern history classes. 

Mystery of the Romanovs: looks into the discovery of the remains of the Romanovs, insight into what happened the night they were murdered and investigation into the potential survival of Anastasia and/or Alexei.

Catherine the Great: the title says it all, gurl was great. amazing leader who knew exactly how to play the political/royal game and told all the men who tried to oppress or abuse her to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up y’all best recognize.

Servants: The True Story of Life Below Stairs: really cool little doco series on the people who served the upper class in the UK back in the day (Victorian, Edwardian eras etc) and what their daily lives were like and what kind of people they were.

And Man Created Dogs: how wolves/dogs evolved and bonded with us and became the natural BFFs of humans like god bless the power of evolution and oxytocin.

less morbid documentaries in general

- Babies: this is a lovely documentary (FOR A CHANGE). it doesn’t use interviews or voice overs, it just follows the development and differing parenting of four babies from four different nations: Japan, America, Namibia and Mongolia. it’s really interesting and excruciatingly cute.

- My Heart Belongs to My Dad: looks at 3 men doing their best to raise their children as single parents. 

Nomadic Tribes of the Sahara: basically the title sums it up! the narrator is kind of annoying but it’s a really awesome look at how the tribes of the sahara adapt to live in such a scorching climate. 

- Poor Kids: follows children in the UK who live below the poverty line and how their family’s make do from day to day

Search For Habitable Planets: because space is hella and maybe one day we’ll end up on one of these bad boys like not in my lifetime at least but hey.

An Astronaut’s Guide to Life in Space: mini videos about Chris Hadfield doing adorable and informative shit in space

Cosmos: everything you’ve ever wanted to know about everything that hurts your brain to even think aka the entire universe brought to you by Carl Sagan

Killing Us Softly 3: absolute favourite look into how advertising and the sexual objectification of women creates a horrible climate of low self-esteem, eating disorders, and violence etc against them

Planet Earth: if you haven’t seen david attenboroughs planet earth series then holy sHIT get on that because it’s so beautiful and the footage of the animals and landscapes and how he explains all of it is just perfect seriously I’ve watched this series more times than I can count.

The Union: Business Behind Getting High: super entertaining doco on the history and politics of weed and how we would benefit if it was legalized and how we should be goDDAMN USING HEMP AS A HUGE NATURAL RESOURCE.

and obviously if you haven’t checked out any of louis theroux’s documentaries then GET ON THAT

- list of some of his doco’s 

youtube channels with more awesome documentaries

- Real Stories

- 20/20

- BBC History Documentaries Playlist

[some of the links might be broken as youtube is want to remove every good video from existence but just do a new search in youtube/google and you’ll probably find all of these]

[ozma914]

Chapter One of Coming Attractions

Ever since we got Coming Attractions up on the website (www.markrhunter.com), I've been meaning to share the entire first chapter, which introduces both main characters and, I think, gives a taste of what's to come. You can also see chapter one on various booksellers' websites, but I thought it was worthwhile to have it right here, where people can check it out if they choose. This is exactly as it appears in print, including the opening materials.

After this I plan to go back to a semi-regular post about writing, such as creating characters, inspiration, setting, and such, starting with how they relate to the creation of Coming Attractions itself. Hey, I was bored. (Kidding! I've got a lot of issues, but boredom is not one of them.)

Remember, whenever you don't read a first chapter, the second chapter doesn't get its pages. (I think that's the line from It's a Wonderful Life. Something like that.)

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Coming Attractions

Mark R. Hunter

Other titles by Mark R. Hunter

Non-fiction:

Images of America: Albion and Noble County

Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department

Slightly Off the Mark

Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All

Fiction:

Storm Chaser

Storm Chaser Shorts

The Notorious Ian Grant

The No-Campfire Girls

Radio Red

Copyright © 2018 Mark R. Hunter

All rights reserved.

Edited by Emily Hunter

Cover by Emily Hunter

This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events in this book are either are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No popcorn was harmed in the making of this novel.

For book extras and additional books by the author, please visit: www.MarkRHunter.com

In loving memory of

Linda Taylor

Jean Coonts Stroud

Special thanks to the Auburn-Garrett Drive-In;

The drive-in movie theaters still upholding the tradition;

And all the drive-ins of our youth: especially, for me, the High-Vue of Kendallville, Indiana

Coming Attractions

Mark R. Hunter

CHAPTER ONE

Maddie saw trouble ahead as soon as she stepped off the company airplane.

The kid standing in the terminal held a slab of cardboard before him like a shield, with her name plastered in red across its surface. Maybe he was attempting to hide the fact that, beneath the wrinkled black suit coat, he wore a white T-shirt that should have been washed at least two meals ago. More likely he feared missing her, since a quick study of the shaggy haired young man told her he held little stock in appearances.

"Madison McKinley?" He gave her an equally appraising scan.

Stopping before him, she deliberately looked right and left. The closest other people stood at least two hundred feet away, gathered around the airport's gift shop. "Maddie."

Taking that as encouragement, he smiled. "Tupper. Welcome to Fort Wayne!" He still held the sign up.

"Tupper?"

"That's my name—well, my middle name, and that's what I go by. My mother sold Tupperware, and she's pretty hardcore. I don’t know if they still hold Tupperware parties, but if you want her to set one up—"

"I doubt I'll be here that long." Maddie tried not to judge people by appearances, but Tupper looked for all the world like Shaggy from the Scooby Doo cartoon series—without the goatee. Under other circumstances she might have been tempted to smile. "Tupper, were you expecting a company plane?"

"Oh, sure. I've been with the company over a week now."

"And did anyone get off the plane besides me?"

His brow knitted in concentration. "Nope."

"Then do you really believe the sign is necessary?"

Face reddening, Tupper dropped the cardboard. "Sorry."

“Trash can, Tupper—let's keep our planet clean." She blushed a little, herself—it wasn’t fair to take her mood out on him.

When Tupper turned to throw the sign away, Maddie realized he wore a fairly nice pair of navy slacks—and white sneakers. "Are you, by chance, related to one of the partners?"

"I'm Mr. Quincy's great-nephew—how did you know?"

"Family resemblance." Maddie despised lying, but saw no reason to hurt someone's feelings. Nepotism could be a powerful force—why else would this kid be hired by the stuffiest law firm in Boston? "You were to bring a car?"

"This way." Tupper turned, paused, then whirled around. "Did you have luggage?"

"I'm a woman, Tupper." This time she did smile.

He frowned.

"That means yes. Two bags."

After retrieving her luggage, Tupper led the way into the warmth of a sunny June midafternoon. "You'll love Fort Wayne. They have an orchestra, a zoo, a mall, three rivers ..." He trailed off, thinking.

"It seemed a bit small from the air." The poor guy might hurt himself if his brain doesn’t cool down.

"Well, it's the second largest city in Indiana."

As they walked across the crowded parking lot a breeze swirled the folds of Maddie's skirt and blew blonde strands of hair across her face. "Large by Indiana standards? Not a telling argument."

"But you come from Boston. Indiana's a lot bigger than Massachusetts."

"In square miles, maybe," Maddie murmured under her breath. She almost ran into Tupper when he skidded to a halt. "Where's the car?"

"Right here." He pointed to a deep purple Chrysler van.

She stared, trying to fend off a wave of nostalgia for her Porsche. "I asked for a sedan."

"Yeah, you traded up—isn't that great?" He produced a key ring from his pocket and pushed the unlock button. "It's got a digital audio system, sliding doors on both sides, an environmental readout, and you gotta love the color. It's a real love machine."

Such a statement could only come from a member of the Scooby Gang. Maddie stared at him, hands on hips, but held her temper—after all, her temper got her here to begin with. "I realize you've been by yourself here, but since you arrived with just two jobs—to get me a hotel room and a car—could it be that difficult?"

"I didn't actually arrive—I grew up west of here, in New Haven." He noticed her expression, and stumbled backward. "Um, there's a car show at the Memorial Coliseum—by the way, we have a Memorial Coliseum—and Jay Leno's going to be there and all the rental cars were taken and this is the only—"

"Tupper, Calm down." Maddie took him by the shoulder, which made the younger man flinch. "Maybe this is for the best. Don't people going to drive-in movies often take vans?"

He blinked at her. "Yeah, sure. I like to back my truck in, when I'm not working. Why?"

Oh, dear—He didn't know why she'd been sent. "Because I've never visited one, and I might have some free time while I'm here."

Tupper brightened instantly. "The best one in Indiana is about an hour north of Fort Wayne—you'll love it."

She very much doubted that. "Tupper, do you know why I'm here?"

"Um—" He paused, trying to focus. "To expand the agency's influence into business dealings in the Midwest."

"Which means?"

"Got me." He shrugged. "This is my first assignment since I visited Uncle Quincy, but he said it was real important, so I figure I'm on the fast track."

Uncle Quincy? What an image—like Luciano Pavarotti breakdancing. "You are, indeed." Maddie decided she liked the kid, after all. She couldn't help thinking of him as a kid, although he couldn't be more than five years younger than her, and he seemed sincere in his desire to help. Besides, in his own way he was exiled here, just like her. "Do you have transportation?"

“My truck—oh, you mean here?” He gestured to a yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked beside the van. Inside, a girl with spiked green hair waved, then went back to studying her eyebrow ring in the rear view mirror. How entirely appropriate.

"Tupper, you've obviously been working hard. Why don't you take a day or two off? Visit with your family, take a short break, and contact me at the hotel later."

"Really? Wow, thanks! I needed to take off for my part time job soon, anyway." He started to hop into the Beetle, but paused when she called his name.

"It might be helpful to have the information packet your great-uncle promised me. Not to mention the van keys."

"Oh!" Tupper handed her the keys and gestured toward the van. "There's a folder on the passenger seat with maps, directions, your reservation, and a really big book about John Adams. He's my ancestor, you know. I think he was governor, or something."

"Possibly the genes have thinned out since then." Ignoring his puzzled expression, she climbed into the van.

"Well, if you like to go to the drive-in you'll probably see me there. Take it easy!" The Bug roared away.

After a moment Maddie got back out, opened the rear door, and threw in the luggage Tupper had abandoned on the pavement. Sincere he may be, competent he may not.

Maddie spent some time reading the directions and comparing them to the maps. Smiling despite herself, she also leafed through the biography of John Adams. Inside the front cover she found a short inscription: "John Adams called himself obnoxious and unpopular—but he got the job done. Quincy."

Adam Quincy had been named for the second President, and according to rumor was a distant relative. Maddie considered John Adams a role model for his courage and perseverance, but that, and their occupation, was all she and Quincy had in common. Leave it to the law firm's founder to turn a gift into a subtle reminder of who was in charge.

She spotted some brochures in the folder. Tupper apparently thought her job involved sightseeing: He’d enclosed something about every tourist destination in northeast Indiana, from zoos and state parks to an Old Jail Museum. And a drive-in movie theater.

The colorful advertisement declared this to be the 50th anniversary of the High View Drive-In. Two features for the whole family every night, all summer long, plus weekend showings in the spring and fall. Photos showed happy families who munched on popcorn and other snacks while watching the latest flick from the comfort of their automobiles.

Maddie studied every detail, every letter, and then determined the hotel would not, after all, be her next destination. It was getting close to dusk. She had a van, and other than being a bit overdressed for the movies she should go unnoticed.

Yes, a visit to the drive-in was clearly in order. After all, she well remembered one of the first rules from law school: Know your enemy.

Despite her black mood on the airplane, the weather and the masses of greenery Maddie passed during her drive north cheered her a bit. She’d believed as a child that a field was a dirt lot for baseball, and the biggest patch of plant life no more than a Boston city park. Her preteen mind couldn’t have imagined these expanses of woods, or unlimited stretches of young corn and wheat.

It was cool enough to shut down the air conditioner and crack the windows, an act that would horrify her hairstylist. Considering the obscene amounts of money she paid the man, by now he should have come up with a wave that would last through a tornado.

She missed him. She missed her Porsche mechanic, her personal assistant, the doorman, and all the partners with their custom tailored suits, ten dollar cigars, and condescending attitudes. No matter how important this assignment, everyone knew it was punishment. She must prove herself all over again if she ever expected a corner office and her pick of cases.

A few miles after turning onto a two lane highway she spotted the sign, a gaudy red and yellow monstrosity guaranteed to attract attention. The top formed an arrow pointing toward the metal framework of the movie screen, and below the arrow stood a sign advertising a Pixar animated movie and a teen comedy.

To Maddie's surprise half a dozen cars already lined the drive. A van similar to hers waited first behind the closed gate to the ticket booth, with the adult occupants of the other vehicles gathered around it. They looked like they were having a conference, or maybe a tailgate party. A dozen young people, from teens to toddlers, played in a grassy area between the drive and a red fence that surrounded the property.

Maddie stopped behind the last vehicle, wincing at the crunch of gravel beneath her wheels. Clearly, Indiana needed to invest in more asphalt. After the dust cleared, she opened her windows all the way to admit the scent of freshly mowed grass and a far off barbecue, then shut off the engine. Country music played from the pickup in front of her, but it was the sound of kids screaming that made her stiffen.

She scanned around the lawn until certain they were screams of glee, not pain. Why didn’t these parents pay closer attention to their children? Wouldn't it be safer to keep them in their cars, instead of wandering around where they could get hit, or fall, or be bitten by snakes or rabid bunnies or something? Not to mention all the strangers.

Well, she must be the only stranger here, considering everyone else still gathered around the one vehicle. The scene would make someone nostalgic, if that someone held memories of going to the movies. Maddie remembered only a few trips to a more traditional theater.

She’d been led to believe little local support remained for the drive-in, making a buyout easy. Except for one lonely old house along the drive-in property, the surrounding land consisted of farm fields and small tracts of woods, most optioned by the development company her firm represented.

The drive-in's owner remained the holdout, and by bad luck his property made up the bull’s-eye in the tract of land the developer needed. The better his business, the harder her job—and here people already waited, on a weeknight, no less.

Perhaps this made up the hardcore locals with nothing better to do. You couldn't make profit margin with six customers a day.

That optimistic thought faded when an old station wagon pulled up behind her van, pumping rock and roll into the air, as a full house gyrated inside.

With a sigh, Maddie examined the customers. Their dress consisted of shorts or blue jeans, and tank tops or printed tees. She glanced down at her silk print dress, and determined not to leave the van under any circumstances. The average person might not know the difference between her expensive outfit and something from an outlet store, but she would still stand out.

Soon adults began to saunter back toward their own vehicles, while the kids ran, jumping and shouting, to join them. She held her breath until she was sure none of the children would trip or get hit by a car door, then turned to see a woman move the gate aside and climb into the ticket booth. Maddie switched the engine on and wondered if kid movies had changed much since "The Little Mermaid".

Soon Maddie caught sight of the ticket price, painted on the whitewashed side of the ticket booth, and took a sharp breath. It was a third of what she’d expect to pay in downtown Boston. How in the world could this man stay in business, with prices so low? The popcorn must be a dollar a kernel.

The ticket taker held an animated conversation with everyone in line, but managed to keep customers moving until Maddie stopped before her. Then the woman, who wore a white T-shirt proclaiming "The High View—50 years and counting,” did a double take and leaned in for a closer look.

"You're a little overdressed for the movies, ain't ya, hon?"

"The philharmonic was sold out." Maddie gritted her teeth, although she’d expected this reaction.

Now the woman leaned closer, to take in the clean, empty interior of the van. "Just you?"

"Is that all right?"

The woman arched an eyebrow. "Okay by me, just kinda unusual. Why go see a movie by yourself?"

"My boyfriend plays in the philharmonic."

"Well ..." With a shake of her head, the woman handed Maddie a ticket stub, then rattled off an FM radio frequency. "Enjoy the show. Oh! I almost forgot." She gave Maddie a bumper sticker.

Beneath a red, white and blue drawing of the movie screen, colorful letters spelled out: "Save the High View! Half a Century and Counting."

The woman leaned forward and hissed, "Some big company out east wants to turn it into an airport!"

"Oh, my."

"Don't worry, we'll fight 'em and win. You have a good time now, hon."

"Thank you," Maddie answered automatically. As she drove through the lot, she saw similar stickers on all the parked vehicles. The other van, she noted, differed from hers in only two ways: It was black instead of deep purple, and sported stickers on the back and side windows. As she passed it she saw a pair of bright hazel eyes regard her curiously through the rear view mirror, and wondered whether it was because of the twin transportation, or because she drove the only auto in the lot without a show of support pasted on every surface.

Where to park? In the middle of the lot sat a low concrete block structure painted white, with two doors on each side: one for a restroom and another for an entrance to the snack area. Maddie had no intention of abandoning her nutrition plan. Still, she could imagine a need for the restroom if, for some reason, she decided to stay through both movies.

Of course she would stay. She needed to know as much as possible about this business, in order to get it shut down. The best place for her would be at the corner closest to the women's restroom, but, ironically, the other purple van had already staked it out. Maddie settled for a spot at the other front corner.

All the old concrete speaker posts stood empty. Didn’t the ticket taker say something about a radio frequency? Dialing it in produced a crooning Norah Jones, but Maddie assumed she had the right place, left it on, and began watching the incoming traffic.

She made some quick calculations, based on the ticket price, the average number of people per car, and the cost of electricity, payroll, and other overhead. She factored in snacks, then cut food profit in half when she noticed many of the moviegoers brought their own. Despite that, by the time the sun disappeared behind a low, distant cloud bank, the place had already broken even. When the first preview for upcoming movies appeared, it was turning a profit.

On a weeknight. Not good at all.

Maddie sat back, paying little attention to the ads. She leaned forward again when a group of teens walked by, loaded down with nachos, popcorn, and soda. Her stomach began a low, rumbling litany of complaints. When did she last eat? Not dinner. Not lunch, come to think of it, except for a bag of peanuts on the plane.

So much for staying in the car. So much for her diet, unless the snack bar featured something no one she saw had purchased. But it was now too dark for anyone to notice her style of dress, and this could be the perfect opportunity to investigate the operation further. After all, she was here on a job, and if she wanted to erase her black marks with the company she needed to perform it well.

That determination lasted until she reached the door to the snack bar, and realized her miscalculation. Of course it was too dark to see her dress, and the expensive style of her blonde tresses, and the opal necklace and charm bracelet—outside. Inside, fluorescent light made it bright as day.

But with the movie starting, nobody stood before the long counter with its popcorn machine, soda fountain, and snack rack. At least, nobody until she came in one way while, at the same moment, a man burst through the opposite door.

They both froze, regarding each other. She recognized the twinkling hazel eyes and the sandy, disheveled hair at once, although he looked taller when out from behind the wheel. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with the all too familiar drive-in logo on it, along with the words "Drive-Ins are for Cars, not Planes". Admirably muscled arms clutched an empty popcorn bucket.

The man smiled, flashing teeth so perfect it brought back memories of the thousands of dollars Maddie sunk into her orthodonture, and walked toward her. Of their own volition Maddie's legs also moved, until they met in front of the cash register.

"Are you lost?" His baritone voice sent a jolt up her spine, and suddenly exile in Indiana didn't seem so bad.

"I'm ... um ..." She glanced around to remind herself where she was. "I’m looking for healthy food."

"You are lost." He smiled again. "I meant you don't look like the drive-in type."

If you're the drive-in type, Maddie thought, get me a season ticket. "It was spur of the moment." True enough.

"I've been there." He held a hand out. "Logan. Logan Chandler."

She felt her hand enveloped in his warmth. His touch, firm but gentle, made her catch her breath. She tried to stutter out her name, and found she couldn't remember.

"Maddie!" someone else called.

The idea of anyone in Indiana knowing her came as such a shock that Maddie pulled her hand away and turned, almost backing into the wall. Behind the counter, swathed in an apron that didn't completely cover the drive-in emblem on his white T-shirt, a wild haired young man grinned at her.

"Tupper?"

"I told you we'd meet again if you came to the drive-in. This is my part time job."

Uh oh. Maddie glanced at Logan, who turned from her to Tupper with a raised eyebrow. While Tupper didn't know everything about her mission, it would be easy to put two and two together.

"I guess I assumed you’re not from around here at all," Logan said, eyeing her dress.

"Tupper and I just met today." Good, the truth. But Maddie couldn't grasp where to go from there. "It's a long story, and the movie's started."

"But you know each other?"

"Absolutely." Again, true enough.

Tupper pitched in, "We're like old friends, dude."

"Okay." Smiling again, Logan grandly gestured Maddie forward. "I just need to replace some spilled popcorn. After you."

What? Oh. She turned to Tupper, determined to get out of there before he gave her away. Logan might be a lost Greek god, but she couldn't afford to get involved with him, especially after the last fiasco in her love life. "Perrier?"

"Huh?" Tupper stared at her, open mouthed. "I don't know Spanish."

Behind her, Logan chuckled, making her even more aware of his presence.

"Do you serve any bottled water?" In truth, Maddie craved some decent coffee, but she had a feeling her definition of “decent” wouldn’t fit here.

"Oh!" Tupper grabbed a bottle of water with a brand name she didn't recognize. "This is local. It comes out of a spring well right by a church."

"And a cemetery," Logan offered. She looked back to find him grinning wickedly. "Imagine that."

She did, but took the bottle anyway. "Is there anything to eat that doesn't involve large amounts of sugar or carbohydrates?"

"Uh—" Tupper glanced around wildly. "No."

"Get her some of the world famous popcorn, Tupper," Logan said. "On me."

"Popcorn on you." For some reason Tupper found that amusing, and chuckled as he scooped the white kernels up.

“No salt or butter, please." Maddie felt a touch on her arm, and turned to see Logan smiling yet again.

"No salt or butter? That's cardboard."

Could she make herself look any more out of place? "I'm twenty-nine years old.” When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “I can’t eat whatever I want, not anymore." As if she ever could.

He raked his gaze over Maddie, making her gulp and shiver. "You don't have an ounce of fat on you."

That was a compliment, she assumed. Maddie didn’t have an ounce of fat, not even on her chest—or at least, that had been her ex-fiancé’s biting comment. "I plan to keep it that way. How do you—" Now it was her turn to look him over, from broad chest to white Reeboks, and she gulped again. "—um, stay in such good shape?"

"Hey, I don't eat this way all the time—it's a treat. If you don't treat yourself, how do you know what you're missing?"

"A look at the nutrition label tells me what I'm missing." Desperate to get away—she was much too attracted to this man, no doubt a rebound effect—she grabbed a bag of chocolate covered peanuts from the rack and slapped it down next to the water. "There. Four hundred calories."

"I'm humbled," Logan told her. "You might try sprinkling them on the popcorn."

"Thank you." She shoved a fifty into Tupper's hands and told him to keep the change, which made his eyes pop. "I'll remember you on my next trip to the scales."

"Wait—" Logan held his hand out, but became distracted when Tupper called his name.

"Say, that's a great idea. Chocolate covered popcorn, M&M popcorn, popcorn with nougats—it could be the next taste sensation."

Logan held out his empty popcorn tub. "Remember that one time when I told you to use your imagination? I take it back."

Maddie took the opportunity to sneak out the door, and hurried into the blackness before Logan could catch her. If he said anything remotely connected to getting to know her better, she would melt like the hot butter he kept talking about, and the whole nightmare of dating someone connected to her work would start all over again.

Shivering, she dropped the water and candy into her purse. Balancing the popcorn in one hand, she pulled open the van's door. What a relief to be away from that man—she'd never been so instantly affected by the opposite sex before, not even her ex-fiancé. With considerable relief, she sank into the driver's seat.

Or, more accurately, she sank onto the small body that occupied the driver's seat.

Two high voices shrieked. Maddie also gave a yell and leaped out, ready to run as her imagination conjured Munchkin muggers. But her purse caught on the empty speaker post, and she managed only to spin around.

In the hazy darkness, broken by the flickering reflection from the big screen, Maddie made out two small, round sets of eyes peering at her from inside the van. In the instant that followed, she realized this was not her van and that somehow, miraculously, she still held the popcorn without a single kernel spilled.

Then a much larger body plowed into her. She slammed down onto the hard turf, while someone else fell heavily on top of her.

In addition to the website, there's a list of where our books are available here:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2018/12/coming-attractions-is-e-booking-all.html

[writingguide003-blog]

22 Writing Experts On Overcoming Their Greatest Writing Challenges

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/trending/22-writing-experts-on-overcoming-their-greatest-writing-challenges/

22 Writing Experts On Overcoming Their Greatest Writing Challenges

I won’t lie to you.

Writing is a tough, demanding and lonely craft.

You’ve got to think of an idea, figure out if it’s worth writing about and then get the words down on the blank page in a room, by yourself.

Even when you’ve got this part of the creative process under control, it’s still your job to turn up and write every day, to publish your work and to find an audience.

The journey of every writer is marked by creative, personal and business challenges just like these.

I wanted to find out more about these types of challenges and how today’s professional and successful writers overcame them.

So, I asked 22 top authors and fiction writers one question:

What was your greatest writing or creative challenge and how did you overcome it?

This is what they said.

Doing The Work

Rachel Aaron – Author of Nice Dragons Finish Last, 2k to 10k, and The Legend of Eli Monpress

I’d say the biggest writing challenge I’ve faced was actually the book I just finished.

It was a sequel to a very successful first book. I went into the project thinking I knew exactly how it would go, but every time I tried, it didn’t feel right.

I banged my head against that book for a year trying to hammer it into place, but it was never right, because (as I finally discovered) I was trying to make it into something it would never be.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to admit I was the problem, but in the end, the only way forward was to swallow my ego, cut myself free, and start over with an entirely new idea.

This is a terrifying thing to do when you’re already months behind.

Plus, I’d already written and trashed over two complete novels worth of writing. That’s enough failure to make anyone hate their book.

If I gave up, though, I’d be abandoning my fans and a series I really did love before months of dead ends soured me on the whole thing.

Starting over and pushing through that project was the most difficult and humbling experience I’ve ever had as a writer, but I made it, and even better, I made it with a novel I’m very proud of.

I think when I look back on my career, I’ll consider refusing to give up on this book or to publish something I couldn’t be proud of as one of the watersheds of my progress as a writer.

Awful and humiliating as the failures were, pushing through them forced me to grow as a writer and as a professional in a way the successes never could.

I wouldn’t wish a hell book experience like this on anyone, but I think I came out stronger for it, and for that alone, I’m grateful.

Marion Roach  – Writing coach and teacher, specialising in the personal essay and memoirs

My biggest writing challenge is the same today as it was for the first piece I wrote when I worked at The New York Times, the same it was for all four of my books, and for every radio essay, magazine piece or op-ed: Making that extra phone call.

Stopping one call, fact-check, or piece of reporting short of what is needed is a hallmark of a lazy writer.

But it’s also the hallmark of a busy life, and we cannot let one influence the other, since while being busy is a cultural reality, it is no excuse for turning in a piece that is anything but as good as it can be.

These days, I write a great deal of memoir, a genre that has an unimaginable (to me) and wholly inaccurate reputation for being easy.

“You don’t have to check your facts,” people tell me, admitting that they didn’t do so. “You’re just depending on memory,” someone will suggest, “so how hard can it be?”

I solved this problem years ago by simply moving the landline phone next to the computer. This is where many writers keep their lucky pencils, worry beads, or photos of a dream house in Tuscany.

For me, that clunky old phone is an amulet as well as a nag, and it serves me every day as I move into that lovely end zone of a piece, when I make the mistake of thinking I’ve got it nailed and then remember that maybe, just maybe, I don’t.

Not quite yet.

The biggest writing challenge I’ve faced is myself. I got in my own way for YEARS!!

Making excuses, placing blame, ignoring my writing dream, letting fear get the best of me.

I’ll never forget the day I finally started to take my dream of writing a novel seriously.

It was a Saturday, and I had the whole day available for writing. But I kept coming up with things I needed to do first, things that were “so much more important” than writing my novel.

And then I found myself with a clean apartment, no dishes in the sink, washed laundry and nothing to do but write.

So I decided to get out a sponge and then get down on my hands and knees and scrub the bathroom floor. (And I HATE cleaning!)

In that moment I knew I had to decide if writing a novel and being a successful writer was truly important to me. I decided that it was, so I began to drop the excuses, flip around the fears and commit to taking action on my writing every day.

I didn’t write every day at first, but I did work on something writing related (story planning, character development, etc).

It took time to get rolling, but 7 years later I’m finally about to publish my debut novel, and I’ve made a career out of being a writer.

Amazing things can happen when you get out of your own way.

Self-belief

David Gaughran – Writer, blogger and indie author thought leader

There is a necessary dichotomy in every writer’s brain: we need a certain level of self-belief to put our work out into the world, but also a healthy dose of self-criticism to ensure its quality.

Dealing with this is the biggest writing challenge I’ve faced. And it’s one I still face, every single time I sit down to write.

The solution (like the problem) is in your own head. You don’t need that critical voice when writing the first draft.

In fact, you should ignore it, because it can make you freeze up completely. If you start being critical about your opening page, you’ll never finish that first chapter, let alone the book.

You need to vomit up the words until you hit The End.

Then you can be critical.

Everything can be fixed in the second draft… except for a blank page. So switch off that critical voice.

Give yourself the freedom to get the bones of your story down on the first pass.

You can worry about putting flesh on those bones later. Because once you have that first draft done, nothing can stop you.

Kevin T. Johns – Writing coach, podcaster and author

The greatest challenge I have had to overcome as an author is the realisation that the financial return will never equal the investment in time, effort, energy, heart, and soul that goes into creating a book.

Simply put, books are a terrible business to be in.

The way I’ve come to terms with that sad fact is by acknowledging that I’m not a writer because it is a smart business decision.

I’m am a writer because I can’t not be a writer.

Marcie Hill – Freelance writer and blogger and self-published author

My greatest writing challenge was confidence. Early in my career, I was afraid to call myself a writer because I was transitioning  from a career I hated to my passion. To overcome this challenge, I wrote consistently and started to BELIEVE that I was truly a writer.

The second case of lack of confidence I experienced was my fear of writing about controversial issues, such as race in America and the media’s negative portrayal of black people, that are near and dear to my heart. I’m still sometimes challenged with this, but when I have to speak up, I’m unstoppable.

My final and worse case of lack of confidence occurred when it was time to charge for services. It took years to get over this. Now, I let people know the value of the services I provide and charge accordingly.

Jen Talty – Romance author and publisher

There are so many challenges to writing and I think the first thing most of us will think of is handling all the rejections.

However, for me it was simply finding the time to write when my all three of my kids played travel hockey and we averaged 170 games a season in two countries and three states.

My first couple of books I wrote at the ice rink between practices and games.

Alex Lukeman – Author of the best-selling PROJECT action and adventure series

It’s difficult to pick out one “greatest” challenge when it comes to writing, especially if you write for a living as I do.

Writing for a living presents an ongoing series of challenges.

There are hundreds, thousands of articles and books about writing that address various challenges.

Things like getting through writer’s block or finding an agent/publisher or plotting or characterisation.

All of that is useful up to a point but always you are faced with the fundamental challenge of being a writer.

To put it simply, it’s the will to create and believe in your ability to create something of interest. Standing in the way is the hard reality that writing is difficult work.

No one tells you what to write. You have to make it up as you go along, out of nothing. You have to allow your imagination to step out and take control.

You have to get it down, one word, sentence, paragraph, chapter at a time. That brings you face to face with what I consider to be the greatest challenge and I face it with every book.

There always comes a point where I think ‘This isn’t very good or worse, this is lousy.’

Sometimes it is and I end up throwing out days of work.

The biggest challenge for me is to know it’s not the end of the world and that sooner or later my muse will return with a better result.

Believing that is the key to meeting the challenge.

James Scott Bell – Award-winning suspense author and writing coach

My biggest challenge came at the very beginning of my writing journey.

I knew I wanted to write, but had been told for years that you either “have it or you don’t” and that you can’t learn to be a great writer.

I didn’t think I had it, but when I determined I had to try, I went out and started studying and .

I kept writing and applying what I was learning, and then one day I had an actual epiphany.

Lightbulbs started flashing. It was realising that scenes should have an objective, obstacles, and an outcome that is usually a major setback.

From that point on my plotting was strong. I started to sell. And got the confidence I needed to go on.

Ian Sutherland – Cyber and crime thriller author and Twitter expert

One of the things I’ve been wrestling with over the last couple of months is, what is my identity?

Am I a fiction writer? Or am I a nonfiction writer? Or am I both?

My website right this minute is a bit of a hybrid.

I’m actually working on that behind the scenes, so I’m going to make sure that my main website that you see from all of the stuff to do with and my fiction work is just about that, and I’m probably going to set up a second website for the because the audience there is other authors.

Getting Published

Gary Smailes – Freelance writer, editor, researcher and historian

The way I often explain this new publishing approach to non-writers is with a restaurant analogy. In the past a publisher might have been happy flipping burgers and selling to the masses.

Now everyone is able to open a burger joint. Publishers now need to be different, better… they are no longer looking for grill cooks, they are looking for Michelin star chefs.

This is a golden age for writers and the impact of Amazon self-publishing platform will continue to echo over the coming years.

But one thing that has already changed is what it means to be a ‘writer’.

Gone are the days of a writer’s only path to success being through the slush pile. If a writer now wishes to side-step the gatekeeper and go it alone, it is a very viable option.

So, what’s the ‘the biggest challenge facing a writer’?

For me, is it the challenge of a writer deciding what type of writer they wish to become.

There’s no harm is being a grill cook, writers can make good money and have the freedom to plot their own publishing journey, but is that what a writer really wants?

Or are they seeking something different, do they need the prestige that comes with being ‘picked by a publisher’?

Are they looking to become that Michelin star chef with all the highs and lows it brings?

Or is the writer looking for something different and new? Technology and the internet are allowing writers to constantly reinvent what it really means to be a ‘writer’.

Only by making and embracing the choice that faces them will writers have a shot at success.

K.M. Weiland – Fantasy writer, blogger and mentor for authors

Being published. No, seriously! Being published and read by others is amazing in countless ways.

It has made my life and my writing richer. But it also makes writing harder.

Once you realise you’re no longer writing just for yourself, but that every word you write is being read (and judged—for better or worse) by others, it’s hard to keep that thought out of your head while writing.

The pressure is on, and it can be crippling. I went through a sophomore-novel stage where I found myself over-thinking my first drafts to a ridiculous extent.

The result?

My writing suffered, and I stopped having fun.

As much as I love and appreciate my readers, I remind myself every day that I write, first and foremost, for myself. I write because I love it—because I have stories bubbling up out of me.

I focus on that and not on what readers may or may not want, and my writing is always the better for it.

I love Anne Lamott’s quote in Bird by Bird:

“I just try to warn people who hope to get published that publication is not all it is cracked up to be. But writing is. Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises.”

Terah Edun – New York Times & USA Today Bestseller

My biggest writing challenge is navigating the demands of self-published market as it changes year-by-year. I overcome each day by learning from close friends, networking with marketing experts, and pushing forward to continue writing the books I’ve always loved to read.

Handling Ideas and Plot

Roz Morris – Fiction writer, editor, speaker and writing coach

My biggest challenges are always creative – how to do justice to an idea.

I’ll start with an exciting idea – for instance, what if I turn the classic reincarnation story on its head?

Instead of sending a character to examine her past life, what if she suspected she had a future life and somebody was receiving her as the past?

That’s how was born. These ideas arrive full of freight – although, like dreams, they keep it locked away.

My writing process is part research and part search; a labyrinthine route of interpretation and guesswork to discover what it means.

I write reams of notes; long, secret essays I may never read again.

The chances are, I’ll find them absurd, wrong or naive. But as I keep visiting the book and sharing my thoughts with the page, I begin to understand what my gut is telling me.

My Memories of a Future Life became an exploration of despair – a person who had lost faith and hope in her own life.

The challenge is always to release the potential in an idea.

It’s tough, but once it’s done, it’s so rewarding.

A.G. Riddle – Self-published and traditionally published science fiction author

Choosing which story idea to pursue.

I finally just went with the idea that fascinated me the most–without worrying about how big the audience was for the story.

I think you have to be passionate about your story first–it comes through in your writing and that’s what readers love.

Douglas E. Richards – New York Times and USA today best-selling science fiction author

Plotting has always been my biggest writing challenge, but, alas, it is one I have yet to overcome.

My writing style is fairly unadorned and cinematic.

I want readers to always be thinking, “this passage is so engrossing, I have to know what happens next!” In order to accomplish this, I take great pains to deliver intelligent, tight plots with complex mysteries at their centers and plenty of twists and turns.

Before I begin each new novel, I probably spend a month just trying to figure out the overarching direction I’d like it to take.

But even if I think I have a reasonable idea of the actual plot, I’m only fooling myself, because no plot survives engagement with the page. For me, writing a novel is like putting together a 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

Until you’ve laid some of the early pieces, you don’t have any idea what you have to work with, so you can’t possibly know where later pieces might fit in.

This is very scary for me, because I’m never able to figure out the endings of my novels until I’m at least halfway through them, and most times I’m convinced that doing so is impossible—until I finally have a eureka moment (after I’ve pulled out handfuls of hair and my stress levels have climbed into the stratosphere).

Robert McKee – A Fulbright Scholar and the most sought-after screenwriting lecturer around the globe

Too often writers spend all their time worrying about marketing themselves. If they would just pay attention to the work, if they put their energy into turning themselves into the best possible writer they can be…to do that, they have to cultivate taste.

The difference between an amateur and a professional is that amateur writers love everything they write, they keep every scrap and every page thinking that some day somebody is going to want to do a PhD thesis on them or whatever delusion they live in.

Professional writers hate everything they write because they have the highest possible standards. They know that 95 percent of everything they do is crap. They are only capable of excellence 1 or 2 percent of the time. They know they have got to get all that crap out, read it and go “That’s just bad writing, cliched writing.”

They know they have to destroy it all in order to get to that precious few moments of real creativity when they are writing at their best.

(Professional writers) hate everything they do because they have high standards. What I see so often in my work is that people have no standards. Or, their standard is what was just published last year, or what was just produced last year. They want to copy that with a slight variation. They want to write the way they think they’re supposed to because they have no real standards.

So don’t worry about marketing. If you write really well the first person you show it to will become your champion.

Philip Kleudgen – Blogger and entrepreneur

The biggest challenge in writing for me is always getting started. It can take hours or in some cases even days to decide on a topic I want to write about.

Once I decided that everything else falls in place. I start researching the facts, collect contributions and links and it’s like a puzzle that shows a beautiful image in the end.

If I am REALLY not in creative mode I sometimes do a filler post consisting of quotes or images only.

This buys me some time before the next epic piece must be written.

The way I try to overcome this is by writing articles in clusters.

That means after finding the topic I will write a blog post, guest posts and maybe even start an ebook about the same thing. This helps a lot to be more productive.

Finding ideas is mainly a process of reading industry blogs, do random Google searches or play around with ubersuggest.org to find fresh content. Talking to other people and interacting in the comment section of any given website or on Twitter also can help.

Marketing Your Work and Finding Readers

Ashley Farley – blogger and best-selling self-published author of Her Sister’s Shoes

I’m sure you’ve heard this time and again, but social media is the biggest challenge I face as an indie author.

There are countless opportunities for an author to interact with readers and other writers online. Too many, in my opinion.

As an introvert, I find the process overwhelming and way too time-consuming when all I really want to do is write novels.

When I found myself close to a mental breakdown last month   over all the responsibilities of launching my latest novel, I had a little heart-to-heart with myself and decided I would restrict my hangout sessions to the networks where I feel at home.

Isn’t that the way we choose to socialize in person? I’m concentrating on Facebook, which is where most women my age hang out, and on Goodreads for the same reason.

I also recently joined the Women’s Fiction Writers’ Association as that seems like my kind of cocktail party—low key, girl to girl talk about women’s fiction.

Mostly, I’m trying to approach social media as fun instead of work, which is helping enormously.

– Author of the John Milton series of thrillers

Finding readers for my work. The way to solve it – hard work, invention and a willingness to learn.

Mailing lists are critical, and then finding readers to fill them.

When you have that sorted, graduate some readers to a street team and work together to solve the visibility problem with early reviews and buys.

And, over all of it, treat customers as readers and be flattered when they get in touch. Answer every email personally and those readers become fans and, sometimes, friends.

Dean Wesley Smith – USA Today best-selling science fiction writer, novelist and editor of Smith’s Monthly

I spent seven long years not selling and rewriting and polishing and writing slow and following every other myth I had ever been taught about writing.

I was just about to give up when I started reading how real writers did it, and then I found .

I decided to follow those business rules without missing.

All five of them. (I wasn’t selling, so I had nothing to

lose.)

I started selling almost at once and have never looked back and never stopped following those five business rules. But I really regret those seven long years of following the myths of writing.

Terri Woods – American novelist and author of True to the Game

I  have faced two very big challenges.

The first is being successful as an independent author and independent publisher. Mainly because it’s okay for you to self-publish a book, but its not okay for you to make a lot of money from it.

So, if you can publish the book and become a self made millionaire, that’s called being ‘divergent’ and if you are me, that is a problem, so much that I was denied the right to do business and I wasn’t allowed shelf space, and was threatened with imprisonment all because I was selling thousands and thousands of books every month.

It got so ugly, folks were not allowed to buy or even order my books from certain bookstores.

Then, the other challenge for me is that I am black and as a black writer with NY Times Best Selling novels, I haven’t been given, and in some cases, not allowed the same opportunities in the market place as white authors with books of less selling potential.

And forget about your NY Times best selling novel being turned into a major motion picture or television series if your African American, your readers are NOT going to see their favourite characters to come to life, because that’s totally not going to happen either.

It’s sad, but the marketing dollars just aren’t given to African Americans and they never have been.

So, these issues have presented themselves to be extremely challenging for me as an African American writer and as the owner of an independent publishing company.

However, these challenges do not prevent me from dreaming, from believing in myself, from believing in my work, and these challenges will never stop me from reaching folks that are willing to support me and read my books.

The Real Work of a Writer

Professional writers don’t quit when things get hard. Even when they’d rather do anything but write, professionals concentrate on improving their craft, on getting the words down and on shipping their work.

They do it because it’s their job.

It’s your job too.

You can use any of the solutions put forward in this post to overcome some of the challenges you’re encountering on the blank page.

For this post I interviewed mostly fiction writers.

Prefer to learn more about non-fiction writing?

Don’t worry.

Check out my follow-on post published recently on Boost Blog Traffic:

Get your 101 writing prompts today

Need help getting started writing? Use these proven writing prompts. I’ll also send you practical writing advice and more as part of my newsletter.

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22 Top Writers On Their Great Writing Challenges (And How They Overcame Their Demons)

[scifimagpie]

The World Belongs to You: On the Sunset of White Supremacy

Hello hello!

On a whim, I found myself working on a short story today. There was a contest for a podcast I love, I Don't Even Own a Television, and I decided to actually take a shot at it.

(On a related note, I know that for those of us on slender budgets, rationing out meds is sometimes required - but take your meds, everyone. It's good for you, and good for your creativity.)

For the story, I found myself thinking about a positive comment or two one of the hosts made about Sun-Ra. As a different friend of mine has been inspired by the seminal poet and musician's work for some time, and has been tracing his effects on Afrofuturist literature, Sun-Ra's been on my mind. That and the ridiculous prompt soon blossomed into a tongue-in-cheek skewering of nostalgia-bait. The story itself featured three Black characters trying to run maintenance checks on habitat craft while asteroid-mining on the belts around Saturn, and ended with Tasia, the main character, happily considering her future in the infinite space around her.

While penning the vignette, I got to thinking about an awkward topic I've been wanting to blog about for a while. As a white person - never a good way to start a sentence, but bear with me - I think about white supremacy and injustice issues a lot. Accepting my place in that system and the place of people who look like me can be thorny.

So - how do those of us who are white emotionally cope with the historical and present burden of accepting that our ancestors and relatives were and still do wreak havoc and enact violence on so many others?

The Evil Empire

Maybe it's a little silly, but one of the ways I have reconciled with this is by thinking of it in Star Wars terms. Obviously, this fandom is full of toxicity, and it's pretty illustrative in this instance.

Being white, particularly in the post-European cultural mishmash of North America, means being the inheritors of the benefits of colonialism. That stolen land and wealth was given to us. And sure, our lives can be hard in different ways - but in others, in fundamental ways, we have been cushioned.

More so, culturally speaking, white people still dominate in both American and Canadian culture, and in terms of representation. Sure, we're nominally a majority, but if you're reading my blog, you are probably also aware of how disproportionate that representation has favoured us, or at least, people like me (since you, dear reader, may not be white).

But in order to deconstruct that hegemony, those of us who are white have to let go of that heritage.

Imagine, if you will, being born into the Empire in Star Wars and developing Rebel sympathies. Admitting that everything around you is basically wrong can leave one with a heavy heart, but the only way to fix the world and culture is to face and internalize this fact.

The Sunset of the Elves

Here's the thing - it's okay to have mixed feelings about that, and to be like, "wait a minute, is this evil? Has my culture, my country, have my ancestors perpetrated and enabled evil?"

Seeing evil as a verb rather than a state of being, the short answer to that question is "probably, yes."

While that's rough thing to accept and process - nobody wants, truly, to think of themselves as bad - it also means that we have a chance to gracefully fade. I'm editing a project that deals with white supremacists and racists right now, and seeing things from inside that has given me a surprising empathy for them. However, as both the author and myself agree, violence and fear are not the way to protect that legacy.

For one thing, Black people and other people of colour aren't particularly out to destroy all remnants of European cultural heritage, and more specifically, of whiteness. But - those of us born white should do that for them.

It's not that I'm saying we ought to destroy every celebration, or that things like pagan traditions should be forgotten, but we absolutely have to let them become less prominent and make room in culture for the expressions of others. And maybe there's a tiny bit of romance to playing our part in letting the sun go down on evil, and watching others flourish. While the elves are not conventionally evil in Tolkein's Lord of the Rings, the metaphor of transition still works decently, at least for my mindset.

And maybe it's okay for the empire, and us, its children, to recede and fade a little. We've dominated so much for so long - to the detriment of our own compassion and humanity, because that dominance came about through no natural means; only violence and control. (And I reject the proposition that violence and control are a "natural" way to live or some mark of triumph among a species that is, by evolution and fate, as pro-social and inclined to altruism as humans are.)

Shown: just one of the cultural groups I didn't even know about until a couple weeks ago.

But what do we get in exchange?

Selfishly speaking - as most of this post is - it can be hard to let go of power. But we are still allowed to witness and, when invited, participate in the joy of others.

The problem with whiteness - not merely European-ness, but whiteness, the construct - is that it is inherently restrictive. For those unfamiliar with its precedent, whiteness is an artificial invention devised by slavers to distinguish themselves from enslaved people. Specifically:

"The Virginians legislated a new class of people into existence: the whites. They gave the whites certain rights, and took other rights from blacks. White, as a language of race, appears in Virginia around the 1680s, and seems to first appear in Virginia law in 1691. And thus whiteness, and to a degree as well blackness, was born in the mind of America."

Let that sink in for a moment. Whiteness has erased European cultural heritages, flattened out shared heritage - for after all, if one is to benefit from whiteness, one must supuress and avoid any sharing or serious investment in other cultures, be they Indigenous, Asian, Black, or anything else - and only dabble with them, not engage.

The fight for equality

Even more perniciously, letting ourselves fear the safety and sanctity of whiteness - an artificial construct, as with racism in general - keeps us divided from other oppressed people and even just our neighbours. If we fear, hate, or deride others, why would we invite them to our table, or show compassion for them, or help them out?

We are stronger together. The world we live in, and the world of the future, will continue to be beautiful and diverse and amazing. And within that word, "diversity", there are more colours and shades and cracks and crevices than we can even understand. Multiculturalism doesn't mean a weird, indistinct melting pot - it means that people with thousands of years of history in their own rights can come together, share, discuss, and create new things. It means that people can live in different places, and come up with new foods, and that nobody ever has to be bored again.

I'm not sure how to express just how beautiful humanity is, or how many different ideas and histories and experiences there are in the world.

It's truly a matter of going from a monochromatic view of the world to full-colour. It's dizzying, and wonderful, and sometimes even painful - but there's so much to share and enjoy. And yes, there are still points of friction, because rejoicing in our shared humanity and differences doesn't mean we can forget the legacy of all this pain and violence - but the future is, and can be, so bright.

As I said to one of my friends this afternoon, "the future belongs to you."

*** Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and their cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and nightmares, as well as social justice issues. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Catch up with Michelle's news on the mailing list. Her books are available on Amazon, and she is also active on Medium, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr, and the original blog.

[mdellertdotcom]

Last week (September 11-17) was the Brooklyn Book Festival, one of the premiere book festivals in the US, and the largest free literary event in New York City.

Brooklyn BookFest is a unique kind of festival. Rather than being centralized in a particular convention hall (such as Book Expo America in the Javits Center), the whole literary community in Brooklyn gets involved, and so “BookEnd Events” have cropped up—some officially, some unofficially—all around New York City.

The BookEnds are events before and after the official Festival weekend, ranging from a kick-off party at a Brooklyn watering hole (King’s Beer Hall, this year) to author events such as:

The HarperCollins book launch party for Catherine Mayer’s Attack of the Fifty Foot Women at Laurel Touby‘s swank East Village apartment, and

Tor’s Malka Older Presents Null States book reading/signing at the Kinokuniya Bookstore.

There are also more esoteric events simply for the love of literature, like Transcending Spaces: A Literary & Aerial Spectacular at The Muse, sponsored by HIP Lit, VIDA: Women in Literary Arts, The Rumpus, and WORD Brooklyn.

This was a riveting night of readings showcasing new work from a diverse cast of writers, including: Hala Alyan, Alana Massey, Alissa Nutting, Tea Obreht, and Camille Rankine, emceed by writer and Rumpus Funny Women Editor Elissa Bassist.

In collaboration with Brooklyn’s home for circus and immersive shows, this event also featured a stellar set of aerial performances from Chriselle Tidrick and Mara Hsiung, creating a powerful intersection between page and sky for what was truly a memorable celebration of creativity and community.

Festival Day

But for me, the highlight of Brooklyn BookFest is always the Festival Day. Vendors line the walk-ways from the beautiful Brooklyn Borough Hall to the Korean War Veterans Memorial, and panel discussions are held in open air pavilions as well as in rooms at the Borough Hall, the Law School, and other surrounding venues.

Since I attend the festival more as a publisher and a writer than as a reader, the panel discussions always draw my particular attention.

Panels I Attended at Brooklyn BookFest

Telling Her Own Story

Girls were center stage at this panel discussion with Tracey Baptiste  (Rise of the Jumbies), Meg Medina (Burn Baby Burn), and Renée Watson (Piecing Me Together) as they discussed how their writing explores the complexities of girlhood and why it’s important for them to create bold, brave girls. Moderated by Dhonielle Clayton (Tiny Pretty Things).

Perhaps ironically, as these terrific writers discussed the challenges they faced as writers, girls, women, and people-of-color, I found myself often thinking, “that’s not a girl/woman/POC-problem, that’s a human-problem,” a problem that I myself (privileged white male that I am) could relate to in my own way.

But it also left me kicking myself over missed opportunities in The Wedding of Eithne, where I might have addressed some of the topics raised in the panel, such as the effect on women and girls of socio-cultural attitudes like “boys will be boys” as a deplorable hand-waving of harassment and violence against women.

My own male privilege kept me from seeing this problem in quite the way that these women described their approach to the same issues in their own work. It leaves me wondering if I did my protagonist (and by extension, my readers) a disservice by not finding this space in Lady Eithne’s experience? I’ll have to give the book another reading with this in mind, and a thought toward a revised future edition.

So for me, this was a great panel discussion with a wonderful take-away for me as a writer, and an opportunity for growth. This is what I mean when I say that literature is a discussion, each author to the others, through the medium of writing.

Structures of Power: Politics, Science Fiction, and Fantasy presented by the Center for Fiction

It’s a common conceit that the science fiction and fantasy genres are uniquely positioned to explore structures of power.

In this panel discussion, four authors examined:

how power struggles impact individuals and collectives;

intersections between technology and politics; and

methods of resistance to oppressive governments and technologies.

N.K. Jemisin (The Stone Sky), Eugene Lim (Dear Cyborgs), Malka Older (Null States), and Deji Bryce Olukotun (After the Flare) discussed how science fiction and fantasy responds to our hopes and fears for the future, offers alternatives to conventional politics, and examines how technology affects freedom. Moderated by Rosie Clarke.

But I have to admit, I was a little disappointed with this panel at first.

The discussion promised to be a high-level look at power structures in genre fiction, and I studied Post-Colonial Metaphysics with Leela Gandhi at Cornell University’s School of Criticism & Theory, so when the moderator opened up by asking the authors to describe how their own fantasy and science fiction worlds were affected by real life hegemonic power structures, I was right in step with her.

And then N.K. Jemisin took up the mic as the first respondent, and we all got totally Philip K. Dick’d.

Science fiction writers, I am sorry to say, really do not know anything. We can’t talk about science, because our knowledge of it is limited and unofficial, and usually our fiction is dreadful. — Philip K. Dick

Ms. Jemisin’s initial response was, “Uhm… I’m not really sure what you mean by ‘hegemonic power,’ uh, but…”

To be fair, these four writers are not by any means dreadful, and the panel quickly turned around. Despite the academic jargon that might have flown over some heads, the discussion went on to look at the place of technology (particularly information and communications tech) in our own political environment, how it’s changed the political and social discourse of our times, and how these writers have used technology in their own works.

Overall, I was pleased with the discussion, and it raised questions for my own Fantasy work. Though it’s been a fairly minor plot-point, changes in medieval technology have played a part in the socio-political milieu of my Matter of Manred series.

When a backward gang of bandits gains access to advanced weapons technology (the crossbow), it affects the balance of power in the Kingdom of Droma and threatens the authority of the State’s military force to police and protect its citizens. Comparisons and contrasts to the recent events on the Korean peninsula, the influence of military technology and training on criminal gangs and the American police force from Prohibition to the present, and the rise of radical terrorist groups around the world, are all easily enough drawn. So I’m looking forward to bringing more of this sort of technological conflict into my work in the future.

And for those in the cheap seats, I promise not to use the phrase “hegemonic power-structures” in casual discourse.

How to Reach Your Readers

The event description for this panel promised the following:

Join a publicist, marketing director, SEO specialist and audio expert for practical tips on reaching your readers via mobile, audio, thought leader placement, email marketing, and social media platforms (including Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn). Authors, agents, publishers should attend for the latest news you can use from industry pros Rich Kelley, Anne Kostick, Jennifer Maguire, and YEN founder Bridget Marmion.

I attended this panel with my own friend and publicist, Kira Citron. Right away, she wrote me a note: “Very basic, but good to be reminded of the fundamentals…” A few minutes later, she circled another event in the program and made it clear she was leaving.

And I didn’t blame her. By no means do I consider myself a publicist, a marketing expert, an SEO specialist, or anything else of the sort, yet even I found this panel to be a very “101-level” look at marketing, with very little in the first 20 minutes that I hadn’t gleaned from a hundred other marketing and publicity “gurus” and blogs over the last three years.

But the discussion did allow me to sign up for a free 30-minute consult with the well-meaning folks at Your Expert Nation. Perhaps if I open that session with a quick overview of where I’m at, we can skip the “social media marketing is all about engagement” and get into the real nitty-gritty of finding the most effective ways for a writer on a time-budget to engage with readers. More on this when I follow up with the free consultation.

Writers Watching, Listening and Writing

After ducking out early from the marketing panel, I went to check this out.

I know that I myself listen to music, watch TV, and generally enjoy pop culture in my downtime, just like anyone else. I recently binge-watched the entire first season of American Vandal (surprisingly awesome, given the premise), and caught the opening episode of The Defenders (looking forward to the rest) on NetFlix. My friend and collaborator Jean Lee has an entire series of blog posts about how music influences her work.

Well, as it turns out, many great writers and authors do the same (who knew?!)—and sometimes they even write about their watching and listening experiences. Caroline Casey (Little Boxes) has edited a book of authors writing about the TV shows they watched, and Andrew Blauner (In Their Lives: Great Writers On Great Beatles Songs) has a playlist of authors writing about songs the Beatles wrote!

This was an enjoyable panel discussion. I’ve worked in non-fiction the majority of my publishing career, and the idea of editing together a multi-author anthology of my own has occurred to me. The insights from Ms. Casey and Mr. Blauner highlighted one thing for sure: organizing and editing an anthology is a bloody lot of work. So maybe not for me, not in the immediate future…

Working with Amazon Publishing: Author and Editor Perspectives

Maybe I didn’t read the description correctly, or maybe I projected onto it what I wanted to see.

Global bestselling author Marc Levy (P.S. from Paris), bestselling author Kimberly Rae Miller (Coming Clean and Beautiful Bodies), author Jimin Han (A Small Revolution), discuss their experiences working with Amazon Publishing and how they create a community of readers through Amazon, social media, and events, in a conversation moderated by an Amazon Publishing Editorial Director, Carmen Johnson.

Within moments of starting, it became clear this panel was going to be a self-congratulatory, mutual-admiration circle-jerk to promote Amazon Publishing, rather than any kind of meaningful discussion from various perspectives (good, bad, and ugly) about working with Amazon Publishing. Not at all what I was looking for, and I left immediately.

The Madding Crowd

As always, whether as a reader, a writer, an editor, or a publisher, I enjoy walking the vendor booths at Brooklyn BookFest. For one thing, the park at Borough Hall is beautiful, and BookFest almost always has nice weather in September (though a little hot).

Most of the major traditional publishers (HarperCollins, Random Penguin, etc) were represented, as well as academic publishers with a presence in and about New York (I saw the Oxford, Columbia, and Princeton University Press teams, among others).

But the Brooklyn Literary Scene is a vibrant one, benefiting from its place in the shadow of Manhattan’s traditional publishing giants, and the plethora of indie book stores, and the talented writers (published and aspiring) who live and work in the area. As such, many more indie presses were in evidence, and no few indie authors as well, not to mention a number of booksellers, writing programs, and author services.

Altogether, it created an exciting tapestry of readers, writers, and all things literary. If you’re a lover of books, definitely make a date for next year’s Brooklyn Book Festival. I’ve already decided, I’m getting a table next year, so stop by and see me!

—33—

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Brooklyn BookFest: A Retrospective Last week (September 11-17) was the Brooklyn Book Festival, one of the premiere book festivals in the US, and the largest free literary event in New York City.

[blog-perfectgiverbouquet-blog]

New School Year Resolutions (For Mums)

New school year resolutions (for mums)

And they are BACK! Mine went back to school today (as you can see, one genuinely excited and one… yeah, notsomuch)…

For me, the kids starting back is at school is even better than January for a good old Mum Refresh. I’ve been boring the kids senseless with advice on how to get on in this new school year. But it occurred to me this morning that I’m thoroughly crap at following that same advice myself. Here’s some stuff I tell them to do that maybe all mums should apply to themselves too…

Make lots of new friends

New mums at the school gates, mums you’ve admired from a distance but been too shy to talk to, or maybe ladies you think are fab but never get round to meeting for that wine or coffee. Get off your arse and make that arrangement. Chances are they really could do with a chinwag and a few drinks with a fellow mum, too. Let’s face it, husbands might pull interested expressions when you are describing that incident at the school gates between Marie and Wendy, or pondering whether Brad and Angie will actually get back together… but they would rather be watching Game of Thrones in their pants.

…but also nurture old ones

Yes, make the new mum friends. But look back on the past year. Which mates really made your life easier and more enjoyable? Which ones were there to drink wine at 5.15pm on a Friday and slag off your mutual partners with? The ones who raise you up, who support you and have your back? They are the ones to look after.

Ignore people who aren’t very nice

Stop wasting time being nice to people who simply aren’t interested in you (for whatever reason). You don’t know what their reasons are. But do you know what? Don’t fucking worry about it; it’s just not your problem. Politely move on.

If you need a wee, go for one.

How many times have I got annoyed when the kids are dancing around trying to finish a level on Skylanders or when playing and they clearly need to pee? A lot. Bea had several accidents last year and I know that she will put off having a wee till the last minute. Then I catch myself typing ‘just one more sentence’ before I will allow myself to get to the loo. Cue several minor accidents due to my severely impaired pelvic floor. FFS woman just go to the bog already! Geez.

Eat vegetables and drink water

Even if my son is currently only eating sweetcorn and cucumber with his school lunch, it’s fresh, vitamin-rich food that his body actually needs and I regularly remind him. Likewise with water. I drill its importance into my daughter who barely drinks a thing. Then I eat rubbish (sometimes) and don’t get a drink for hours! Treat your own body with the same concern you do your kids’.

Try your best

That’s all I ask of my kids. If you’re shit at something, don’t sweat it because you’re awesome at loads of other stuff. Just make sure you are really doing that bit of work that you are struggling with to the best of your ability. Even if it is just the Take a Break crossword.

Don’t compare

Kids are terrible for comparing their abilities or situation with others’. But adults are too! You know that annoying advert with the mustachioed man singing about insurance comparison? Well, change the word ‘Go’ with ‘Don’t’ – and every time you catch yourself comparing you or your kids… JUST FUCKING STOP IT. Whether it’s accidentally noticing that your kid’s classmate is reading Tolkien whilst yours struggles with Biff and Chipper, or the fact that Becky at school is a size 8 and has a 9 month old and you’re still struggling with ‘post baby weight’ despite having your last child 6 years ago… just quit it already. As Theodore Roosevelt said, ‘Comparison is the thief of joy’.

Relish new responsibilities

I told both of them this morning that new starters would be in their class and I want them to treat each new kid with respect and care: it’s their actual JOB as ones that have been there for a while. If anyone is crying I want you to look after them, I barked. (At this point, their eyes had glazed over). As each year progresses, the kids get more responsibility at school; whether that’s counting numbers for lunch or simply looking after the little ones. Same goes for us, too. Turns out, this adulting stuff is really hard. Who knew you had to renew your driving license every time you sodding move?! But sometimes you do just have to sit down and get that shit done.

Get rid of some energy

Kids have break time; we have lunch hours, or if you are a SAHM or self-employed then it’s dog or go to the shop walks – same thing. I intend, after six weeks’ worth of a diet made up primarily of sandwiches and crisps whilst day tripping with the kids, to have longer dog walks and generally just get out more to move around. Kids need it – they literally have to get rid of some energy. But we need to move too. So get off your arse and MOVE girl!

In the spirit of the new school year, new me, I shall also be cutting my chin length hair into a short crop and buying a few Autumn essentials. Y’know, maybe some boots and a coat. They get to be shiny and new – I want some of that as well! After six weeks of childcare I bloody deserve it!

What will you be resolving to do more or less of this new school year? Let me know!

Related Questions:

When should kids go back to school shopping?

I would suggest going as soon as you get the list of needed items. They tend to be cheaper all year except in August/September. You could always stock up in winter on all the necesities so you can just get shopping over with. You should buy lots of pencils, pens, and white-out; as these tend to run out in the middle of the year. If you buy binders, get good, expensive ones; or buy multiple cheap ones so if they are ruined by fidgeting children, they will have a back-up.

Why are kids always hungry when they get back from school?

Not all kids are hungry on return from school.. However, in many cases, it is simply a long day and the staggered lunch periods often have children eating lunch very soon after breakfast, and many more hours until returning home. This is a problem that simply cannot be fixed. In other cases, it may be because of the classes attended, such as physical education, may be in the afternoon.

Did Native American kids go to school back then?

yes native Americans did go to school back then there is a book that will prove native Americans did infact go to school the book is called My heart is on the ground: the diary of Nannie Little Rose by Ann Rinaldi from the Dear America series

Why kids should be held back in school?

because they are obviously not doing what they are supposed to be doing like talking during class not doing home work and just being a retard.

How many kids are in one school?

Well, it depends on the school. Some schools are bigger than others and have more students. i used to go to a small elemantary school that was small, it didnt have much students like the one i go to now at middle school at C.C.M.S. hope that's the kind of answer ur lookin 4. Good Luck:)

When do kids go back to school?

Depending on the school it may vary. Some start in the next 2 weeks while others after Labor Day. Contact your school to find out when the first day of school is.

How does the revolutionary war effect the kids in school back then?

The Revolutionary War affected the kids in school. The schools were not a safe place for children to be. Most schools were suspended and children did not receive a formal education during those years.

Will schools go back to hitting kids?

Yes Cause kids are getting to out of hand they will start in 2013

When do kids go back to school from spring break?

This depends on where you live and what school you go to. You may want to check your school or school system's website for a calendar. generally sometime in April

From where can one purchase kids backpacks for school?

One can purchase backpacks for children at many different stores. Walmart, Target, Macy's, Toys R Us, Sears, Staples, and Office Max sell backpacks for kids.

Article Summary:

For me, the kids starting back is at school is even better than January for a good old Mum Refresh. I've been boring the kids senseless with advice on how to get on in this new school year. New mums at the school gates, mums you've admired from a distance but been too shy to talk to, or maybe ladies you think are fab but never get round to meeting for that wine or coffee. Adults are too! You know that annoying advert with the mustachioed man singing about insurance comparison ? Well, change the word ' Go ' with ' Don't ' - and every time you catch yourself comparing you or your kids JUST FUCKING STOP IT. Whether it's accidentally noticing that your kid's classmate is reading Tolkien whilst yours struggles with Biff and Chipper, or the fact that Becky at school is a size 8 and has a 9 month old and you're still struggling with ' post baby weight ' despite having your last child 6 years ago just quit it already. As each year progresses, the kids get more responsibility at school ; whether that's counting numbers for lunch or simply looking after the little ones. In the spirit of the new school year, new me, I shall also be cutting my chin length hair into a short crop and buying a few Autumn essentials. What will you be resolving to do more or less of this new school year ? Let me know!

school, kids, back, ones

[krissysbookshelf]

Enjoy An Exclusive Sneek Peek Of: Midnight at the Electric by Jodi Lynn Anderson!

  Kansas, 2065: Adri has been picked to live on Mars. But weeks before launch, she discovers the journal of a girl who lived in her house more than a hundred years ago and is drawn into the mystery surrounding her fate. Oklahoma, 1934: Amid the fear and uncertainty of the Dust Bowl, Catherine's family's situation is growing dire. She must find the courage to sacrifice everything to save the one person she loves most. England, 1919: In the recovery following World War I, Lenore tries to come to terms with her grief for her brother and plans to sail to America. But can she make it that far?  

LEARN MORE

  Chapter 1

From above, Miami looked as if it were blinking itself awake; the rising sun reflected against the city’s windows. Adri—in fuzzy extra-large pajama pants, her messy black hair pulled back in a rubber band—had pulled over on the shoulder of the Miami bridge. Her Theta had blown a circuit board and she needed to fix it. Now, she took in the view one last time: it wasn’t much, but she’d never see it again.

The sky lay low and gray over South Beach. The empty beachfront hotels lay dark, water halfway up their lowest windows. All along the waterfront, buildings stood stark and abandoned. Neighborhood by neighborhood, the ocean had crept into the city, making it look like a kingdom from an old fairy tale, like Atlantis disintegrating into myth. The morning’s mail drones were already buzzing above the waterlogged buildings below, swaying in the heavy winds but staying on course to deliver packages to anyone who was left: the ruggedly independent, the people with nowhere else to go.

Adri had been one of them until today; her entire life had been spent watching the city get swallowed by water. She wouldn’t miss it, but she had to take a deep breath as she turned back to the car. She gathered the papers and wrinkled sweatshirts that had fallen out when she’d stepped out onto the pavement and shoved them into the back. She carefully plucked a caterpillar off her windshield, sliding her fingers against it gently and moving it to the bridge rail. Then she started the car and set it to self-navigate. Her restless mind drifted to Kansas and what lay ahead. She opened her placement letter on the dash monitor and reread it.

Dear Ms. Ortiz, We try to arrange home stays for our Colonists-in-Training as often as possible, to maintain a sense of normalcy at a deeply transitional time. We’re delighted to inform you that we’ve located a distant cousin of yours (a Lily Vega, maiden name Ortiz, age 107) within driving distance of the Center, who is willing to welcome you into her home during the next three months. Please make your way to this address and await instructions. 268 Jericho Road Canaan, KS 67124 Sincerely, Lamont Bell Director

Adri hadn’t even known she’d had cousins, or any family, left alive. Her parents had been only children; she’d never known of anyone even remotely related to them.

She turned on the news, and when people honked at her to tell her Theta was trailing sparks (it often did) she casually gave them the finger. She leaned back in her seat to watch the sky through the big sunroof. She felt lighter the farther she got from the city.

The coast fell away, and with it, the flooded towns and cities. The ride was only twelve hours with the new interstate, and with a speed limit of a hundred and fifty, it flew by. Normally she would have taken the spare time to study, but all of her devices had been remotely disabled the day she’d received her acceptance letter. Colonists were supposed to spend their last three months focusing on what they learned at the Center in Wichita. Other than that, they were supposed to do as close to nothing as possible.

Only a week had passed since the message had flashed on her wristTab, releasing a spray of holographic balloons that spiraled up around her and away as her admission note flashed on the screen. It was a cheesy touch, but her heart had dropped to her feet anyway. It was the first time in her life she could remember crying. Everything she’d sacrificed and worked for since the sixth grade—the late nights studying, the relentless schedule of exercise, course work, and training—was going to pay off. Within months, she’d be one of the lucky few living on Mars.

The air turned colder the farther she rode. It was long past dark when she crossed the border into Kansas, and another hour before she exited the highway. Nearing Canaan, each turn seemed to take her farther and farther into the middle of nowhere, county roads unfurling darkly under a sky black as ink. The Theta began to make a loud, thumping sound. Around eleven, she switched the car to driver-navigate and steered it gingerly along. It was practically dead when she pulled up to the end of the driveway.

Adri gazed around; the place looked almost abandoned. There was a little white farmhouse with peeling siding and a small barn lot . . . leaning fences surrounding a large pasture, a bunkhouse (or was it a stable?) listing to one side. An ancient SUV sat in the driveway—one of the last of the great gas guzzlers.

Adri cut the power and blinked at a sign by the flowerbeds drying up for the winter. There were indications of life though: a series of purple plastic dragonflies lined the path to the front door and a tin angel with a watering can stood poised over a patch of daisies and weeds to her right. A little placard poking up by the path said: Come in, my flowers would like to meet you.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

She took a deep breath.

She turned her attention upward. The sky was closer here than it had been back home, or at least it felt that way. That’s where I’ll be, she thought. That’s where I’m going. In a way, she was already gone. That was what she needed to focus on.

She checked herself in the mirror. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, which was how she always looked. She brushed herself off and got out of the car, a few soda cans and empty wrappers trailing out with her feet.

A sign had been taped to the door, written in shaky handwriting.

Adri, I stayed up as late as I could, but I’m old! Your room is upstairs to the right. Can’t wait to meet you. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. ☺☺☺

Adri moved through the house in the dark, bumping into corners and staring around into the shadowy rooms before she made her way up the stairs. One room stood open and inviting: faded blue and smelling of mothballs. The lamps were all on, and a bright patchwork quilt lay across the bed, turned down at the corner. She looked around. There was something about the room that was off, unsettling. But she couldn’t say what.

There was no dresser so she moved back and forth across the room, flinging her pants and balled-up sweaters along the closet shelves. Lily had either neglected or forgotten to clean in the back, and the corners were covered in cobwebs that stuck to her fingers. Otherwise the shelves were empty except for an old crinkled shoe box. She opened it, finding a pile of photos and old postcards instead. Adri was notoriously nosy.

She moved closer to the bedside lamp and flipped through the contents. There were several photos of a woman she assumed must be Lily, some with a man who looked to be her husband, and some of her as a little girl. But most of the mementos were older, artifacts from before even her cousin would have been born: ancient ticket stubs from shows in the 1950s, an autograph from someone named Wayne Newton. One postcard was from New York City and very old—it showed a wide boulevard with people in hats and dresses strolling arm and arm, gazing into shop windows. It was postmarked May 7, 1920, and the writing was so faded it was close to illegible.

Beth— Arrived New York last night and making my way to you tomorrow. Galapagos in tow. Did you get my letters? Will you be waiting for me? Will you love her as much as I do? Love, Lenore

Adri did the quick mental math to calculate how many years had passed since 1920: a hundred and forty-five. She read it one more time, then put the box back where she’d found it.

Finally, with nothing else to do, she turned out her light and lay down. In the silence of the strange room, a feeling still nagged at her and kept her from sleeping. Maybe it was nerves about living with a stranger . . . and a stranger who was also— weirdly—family. She wondered what Lily would be like—and it made her think of her old roommate at the group house back in Miami, and something she’d said once.

“I really admire you, Adri,” she’d said. “But I have to say you’re not very likable.”

Adri hadn’t shown that it hurt her, but it had stayed in her mind. She didn’t know why she couldn’t keep from being too blunt, too standoffish and distant, a little mean. She’d stopped trying to change it years ago; she could never figure out how.

Growing up she’d watched other kids buddying up— everyone with their weird quirks and flaws getting along anyway somehow, forming some mysterious club she couldn’t penetrate. She’d think to herself, How do they do that? It was like executing an intricate dive.

Adri wasn’t a diver. If anything, she was a pickax, chipping away at each day. The next three months living with another stranger, even one who was related to her . . . she would chip away at too.

• • •

In sixth-grade astronomy, Adri had read about neutrinos for the first time. They were particles that traveled across space—from one end of the universe to the other, unstoppable and anchorless. They could pass through matter, right through planets and people and everything else. When kids talked after that, about what they wanted to be when they got older, the image of that textbook page always flashed through her mind.

Now she pictured the day she’d be the one launching off from Earth, unstoppable. She hoped the time between then and now would go fast. As she fell asleep, behind her eyelids she watched herself pinging across space.

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