Skip to content

Month: July 2012

Let’s get some things straight here, okay?

Posted in Uncategorized

I’ve never once, in my entire life, said that people shouldn’t say what they want to say, when they want to say it. It’s the way I live, it’s the way I conduct my career. But I also accept the consequences for my actions.

For example, when I started recapping 50 Shades of Grey on this blog, I knew there would be eventual backlash. When it came, it was kind of overwhelming, because after all, I’m used to getting like, fifty hits a day. But I had to finally just roll with it and accept that my opinions were reaching a wider audience, and people were going to say shit about it, shit that didn’t look great on me. I knew that it would turn some readers off, and I would lose them. I knew it would turn some potential readers off. But I weighed that against my desire to say what was on my mind, and found that yeah, I really could handle that.
This post is probably going to turn off more readers, and more potential readers. But again, I weighed my options.
No one likes a bad review. Well, that’s a lie. I actually do like some of my bad reviews. My absolute favorite bad review is one on GoodReads that just says, “SUCKS.” That’s it, just one word. And even though it was being said about my book, it made me laugh, because I imagined this person sitting down and going, “I read it, I didn’t like it, I feel like I should warn other people against it, but  I don’t want to waste anymore energy on this than I have to.” I felt like, you know, I could get along with this person. This is a person I would probably like in real life. 
Now, in the past, long, long ago, I have made the mistake of responding to negative reviews. I would think almost every author has done this. Luckily for me, Amazon.com has a delete function on review comments. I saw someone had reviewed my book, and some of the things they didn’t like about it were things that, to be frank, were not in the book. I don’t know if this person had read a few books all at once or what, but they had characters and scenes they were complaining about that weren’t anything I had written. So, I, being who I am, wrote this scathing indictment of them, and then chickened out and deleted the comment. Then I wrote a comment apologizing for my behavior, and when I realized that I was just digging my little hole deeper, I deleted that. To this day, I don’t know if my weirdo freakout got sent to some poor reader’s inbox, but boy am I ashamed to admit all that.
Now, was it my right as a citizen of the United States of America to exercise my freedom of speech and say what I wanted to say? Absolutely. Even though I’m not sure how the internet is governed, really. I mean, there are people from all over the world on here, right? I guess I should say that as a citizen of the great country in which my ISP is located, I had that right. But I realized how it made me look. Even though the review was apparently a review of several books at once, it made me look, to readers, as though I were obsessed with reviews.
Here’s a pro-tip: Authors are obsessed with reviews. You can comment on this post and tell me how you’re an author and you just really don’t care about reviews, and maybe only pathetic, insecure people worry about what other people think of their work. And I will politely read your comment and not believe a word of it, but I won’t call you out on it, because I have other shit to do.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Authors read the reviews that are out there. And yes, some of them are mean. I’ve seen some really personal ones targeted at myself. I’ve read reviews where I’ve said to myself, “That’s not fair, they’re reviewing me, not the work, and they don’t even know me. I’m fucking rad. This agression will not stand!” Yes, some people get snarky. They say, “This book is a piece of shit,” or maybe the deranged individual recaps all twenty-six chapters of your book on her blog. Whatever. They have a right to express themselves however they see fit. Someone reading that review has the right to form their own opinion of it. A reader might see that review and go, “Huh, I’m not going to read that book.” Or, they might go, “That’s a really unprofessional review.” And they might say, “Wow, that crazy lady has a lot of time on her hands to devote to a book she doesn’t even like.” All of these opinions are totally fine.
So, say you’re an author, looking at a book review that is snarky, that attacks you, personally. No one, in the history of ever, has said that authors are legally bound to not respond to negative reviews. However, it is strongly suggested that authors who do this come off looking less than professional. Names like Anne Rice and Laurell K. Hamilton come to mind. Now, I love Ms. Rice with the majestic fury of a unicorn and a zebra making passionate love on a bearskin rug before a roaring fire. I’ve read and enjoyed Ms. Hamilton’s works, especially the first Merry Gentry book, which made me uncomfortably aroused on a business class flight. However, I don’t agree with their tactics of calling out negative reviewers. I just can’t get on board with that. However, it is their right to respond to these critics as they see fit, and it’s my right to roll my eyes and go, “Oh boy, here we go again with this.”
There are reviewers who say, “I never want an author to respond to my reviews.” To them, I say, STOP REVIEWING. If you’re looking for a place to vent your spleen about a person’s book in the most biting, sarcastic way possible, there will be fallout. You’re going to have to deal with that fallout. That fallout might include authors confronting you. You can either ignore them and move on, or you can respond. But you can’t stop them from responding.
If you’re a reader or reviewer who thinks that all book reviews should be nice and thoughtful and say one nice thing for every three negative things, that’s fine. You have your right to that opinion. You even have the right to set up a website where you declare yourself the bully police, post a person’s name and where they work in an attempt to encourage stalking, criticize another review for not being a saintly enough in their physical disabilities for your tastes, or plan your vendetta against another person’s waiting-to-be-published book while calling her a drunk and insinuating that she’s a bad mother. However, everyone else has the right to call you psychos and assholes, and the offended parties have every right to pursue legal action against you if they so choose.
I love the freedom of speech that my Founding Fathers rallied for, that brave men and women have died for, even if it protects any number of weirdos whose opinions I find distasteful. Case in point, my hatred for people like Kirk Cameron and the Westboro Baptist morons. I love that they can say what they want, and I can get mad about it, and I can rant and rail on my blog against it. I love that people have the freedom to say what they want to say about my books, even if it’s shit I don’t want to hear. I love that authors and bloggers can say shit about me, personally, even if it means I’m going to throw drinks in faces in public some day.
I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don’t have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you stop saying shit about me on the internet, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will throw a drink in your face. 

But I appear to love it with the caveat that I’m able to accept the consequences of that freedom of speech. Authors, you have the FREEDOM to comment on negative reviews. No one is taking that away. But you have to accept the CONSEQUENCE that it’s going to turn off some readers. Reviewers, you have the FREEDOM to be as mean, as snarky, as bitchy as you want in your reviews. No one wants to stop you (she said, cackling maliciously). But you have to accept the CONSEQUENCE that authors have the freedom to respond to you. You also have to accept the CONSEQUENCE that other readers and reviewers are gonna get mad at you, and lash out. And other readers and reviewers? You have that FREEDOM to lash out, but you have to accept the CONSEQUENCE that reviewers, authors, readers, are going to react to that.
It seems like what’s happening is that everyone wants to act however they want and never pay the piper. You have to pay the piper. The piper knows Liam Neeson in Taken, and he’s going to send him to your house, so you better have all your dead sex slaves hidden and not chained to furniture all willy nilly.
What I’m saying is, if you want to be treated a certain way, then treat other people that way. If you don’t mind getting treated the way you treat people, that’s fine, too. But these things should be equal. It’s certainly your right, but totally creepy, weird and gross to respond to an internet fight by posting information that could cause a real life consequence for someone. If that is truly what is in your heart, that you want these people ruined in real life because you disagreed on the internet? You need to spend time away from the computer. You need to spend time in counseling. And I’m not saying that in a pithy, “Gurl, you cray,” kind of way. I’m saying that because those actions are not the actions of sane and rational human being. No reviewer, no matter how mean or snarky, deserves to have their parenting questioned, their livelihood threatened, or to be chastised for not fitting a stereotype. If you think that all sounds very reasonable, and I just sound butthurt, again, back away from the computer. You might have the right to say all these things publicly, but it means you’re firebombing another person’s life, over an internet argument you probably won’t remember a year from now. That doesn’t make you tough and cool. It makes you insane.
I’m saying all of this because I love the way the internet has brought authors and readers together. I love that I can tell a reviewer “thanks for reading my book,” and that a reader can have a twitter conversation with me. I love it, and I don’t want to see walls going up because it turns into all out war. And that’s what StopTheGRBullies is. It’s a declaration of war. It’s a small group of very disturbed individuals saying, “I’m going to scare you, I’m going to make it so you don’t have the right to say what you want to say.” And I’m not okay with that. No one should be. 
This is a line in the sand, to quote my lama. I can’t reasonably support this. So, if you’re an author and you’re coming out in support of that site? I can no longer associate with you. If you run a book blog or review site and you support StopTheGRBullies? I will request that my ARCs no longer end up in your hands. And when the identities of the people who run the site are known? If they’re authors, I will exercise my right to no longer purchase their books or associate with them. If they run blogs or review sites, I will request that my ARCs don’t go their way, either. This might sound like an ineffective threat; it’s not a threat. It’s not me stamping my feet and saying, “LOOK AT ALL THIS POWER I HOLD OVER YOU, MUAHAHAHAHA!” It’s me stating that I’m going to exercise my right to not have that kind of poison in my life, and to live authentically according to my values. 
For everyone else? Keep reading, reviewing, and even indulge in some smack talk. Yes, even if it’s about me and my books. Yes, even if it’s snarky. I will never dream the dream of a polite, yet dishonest society. To me, that’s a nightmare.
Well, you know, that and Liam Neeson’s American accent.

I promise the blog post tomorrow won’t be about drama.

MOTHER. FUCKING. GAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

Posted in Uncategorized

Look, here’s the thing. I don’t want to be known as an “angry” blogger. But everyone keeps pissing me off.

Like these jack-offs at Stop The GR Bullies. Fuck these guys, okay? First of all, I’m going to go on record and say that there is at least one author involved here. I don’t know this for a fact, but I know it with my heart, soul, and guts, because only authors can carry a mean, vindictive streak like this out to its inevitable conclusion. Because we’re all barely functioning vis-a-vis mental health. And if there isn’t an author directly writing these posts? There’s an author mobilizing this with a bunch of “poor me, reviewers are so mean” whinging.

I can’t even coordinate my thoughts, that’s how pissed off I am.

Let’s start here: in one post on “Stop The GR Bullies,” the fuckwads actually post a GoodReads user’s name, the city she lives in, and where she works? What is the point of that? So the next time she steps out of line on GoodReads, someone can try and get her fired. Seriously? This is what constitutes stopping a bully?

In another post, a GoodReads reviewer is accused of being a problem drinker and neglectful mom. Yeah, sure, that’s going to solve the problem of “bullying,” and mocking the fact that she’s writing a novel is TOTALLY going to mean that she gives nicer reviews to YOUR books on GoodReads.

Grow up, book community. You’re accusing people of child abuse and trying to get them fired OVER BOOKS. FUCKING BOOKS. THEY ARE MADE UP STORIES ON PAPER OR DIGITAL MEDIA. IF YOU LIKE SOMETHING AND SOMEONE ELSE DOESN’T? FUCKING DEAL WITH IT.

An angry rant about how we treat each other.

Posted in Uncategorized

On Saturday morning, I woke up to find this comic, titled “Wrong Century” from 9Gag.com positively plastered all over facebook:

I get the jist, okay? In another era, she wouldn’t be mocked for her size, she would have been celebrated by artists. Fine. 
However.

Take closer look at the painting. It’s clearly meant to be this:
This painting is The Rape of The Daughters of Leucippus, by Peter Paul Rubens. While I suppose one could argue that “rape” also means to abduct by forceful means, in the legend the daughters are then married to their abductors, so I’m going to just say that it’s safe to assume these women are going to be raped in both senses of the word. It’s not a longshot here, there’s a huge naked man ripping their clothes off.
So, what is that cartoon above telling us? That this fat girl is looking wistfully at the painting, wishing she were desirable enough to be raped? I really fucking hope that was not the intention of the male artist who drew this comic. I think more likely it’s a visible sign that rape culture is alive and well in the West. The fact is, there are literally dozens of other Rubens paintings with women of size in them that contain, in the words of my friend Greg, “99% less rape.” So why did the artist choose this particular picture? Who knows, but it’s a real bad choice.
This comic has been burning up the Facebook today as a fat positive statement, but it’s really, really not. It has also sparked the usual internet fat discussions. Everything from “Hurrr durrr fatties,” to “Marilyn Monroe was fat,” and I’m here to tell you, as a Marilyn fan, I’ve seen all her movies and she weren’t never fat. Bloated in the face, at times, but not fat (and if you are the person who made a Marilyn comment on my facebook, please note, this is not directed at you, personally, but at the entire myth that has sprung up re: Marilyn’s fatness).
But does it matter? Does Marilyn’s size or the fact that fat women were once celebrated in art matter? No, not a damned bit. Because no one has a time machine (except for The Doctor). Ruminating on the sensibilities of the past will not magically drag our social standards back there. Sure, people during the Renaissance liked big butts and they could not lie, but they also liked stuff like torture and trading women like baseball cards. And people in Marilyn’s generation, sure, they might have liked a Coke-bottle figure, but they weren’t real into black people living and working in their part of town. Why do we want to emulate those times? Just so people don’t feel bad about being fat? That’s bullshit, because fat people were just as maligned in the ’60’s as now, and it might have been awesome to be a fat chick in the middle ages, but probably only marginally more than just being a chick in the middle ages, and that would still be pretty shitty. None of that stuff washes with me.
I’m tired of women on both sides of the fat vs. skinny battle. I’m so tired of them. “At least I’m not a stick!” No, but look at what you’re priding yourself on. You’re priding yourself on having a body type you find more desirable than another body type. It’s the same thing a thin woman who says, “At least I’m not a fattie!” is doing, and newsflash, you both look rude and judgmental when you do it. You don’t get a free pass because you’re fat and your feelings are hurt by the media. You don’t get to just openly mock other women because you’re too insecure about the size of your jeans.
I know that’s hard. Believe me, I know it. I have resorted to calling people boney. Hell, I’ve done it on this blog. I’ve made fun of women for being too thin. You know why I did it? Because I hated myself. Then I sat there and watched someone critique the way my cousin D-Rock eats. D-Rock has a metabolic disorder that leaves her drastically underweight no matter how many calories she takes in, and she’s often embarrassed when people call attention to how much she eats, or the fact that she eats like a starving person. She can’t help it. She really is starving. And I thought, as I heard someone tell her that they could hate her for the amount she’s capable of eating, and that they wished they had the same disease she has, that if this was being said to a fat person, everyone would call this person out.
Fat girls of the world, knock this shit off. Seriously. Stop defending your body by degrading other women. Like I said, I know it’s hard, but you can train yourself out of it, if you’d get your head out of your ass for a moment and realize that thin people have feelings, they don’t have magical self-esteem armor by virtue of being not-fat. And if you can’t grasp this concept, then remember that every time you mock someone for being thin, you’re justifying all those assholes who mock people for being fat, because it’s turnabout/fairplay and all that.
Finally, I’m sick to death of the notion that not-fat people on the internet are just concerned for the health and well-being of us fatties. First of all, “Burn more calories than you consume! It’s math! It’s not hard!” is not new information to most fat people. We understand how losing weight works, and we understand that food choices we make might be bad, and it doesn’t matter, because people who get on message boards and comments sections and Facebook and say shit like, “It’s not a matter of looks, it’s about health!” are lying out their chocolate starfishes. It’s not about health. Fat vs. fit vs. skinny is never about health, it’s about, “You have a body type that makes me uncomfortable for some reason. If I admit to that, then I’m admitting to a form of prejudice, and rather than own it and confront it, I want to seem like Mother Theresa to fat people, nurturing them to health with my own loving kindness.” Shove your loving kindness, because we don’t want it here. The same goes for any fat girl who concern trolls pictures of celebs saying, “Angelina Jolie should eat a sandwich!” Guess what? Angelina Jolie has all the money in the world. She can afford all the sandwiches. Ham, turkey and swiss on rye, peanut butter and jelly, bitch can buy them ALL. If she wants a sandwich, she’ll have a damned sandwich, and when she’s licking her fingers clean she’ll still be thin and rich and successful and you’ll still be hating yourself, no matter what size you are.
Again, this is thinking that you can train yourself to adopt. I once had a letter printed in People magazine where I said I wanted to buy Tara Reid a ham. Because apparently, Tara Reid’s thinness was an affront to my fatness, and I needed that shit stopped, like, today. But you know what? I continued to be fat, even after saying that mean thing, and Tara Reid is still skinny. Calling her too skinny? It didn’t stop guys from thinking she was hot, and it damned sure didn’t make them find me hot.
I propose that we stop the thin vs. fat vs. fit nonsense and do something radical: treat other people the way we would like to be treated. I know, I know, it’s a totally foreign concept. But before you type out that letter to People about Tara Reid’s unacceptable hip bones, think about how you would feel if someone was judging your body that way. And don’t give me that bullshit about how you wouldn’t care, because at least you’d be skinny. You would care, because you’re a person with warm and squishy feelings in you.
While you’re at it, treat yourself the way you would treat other people. If you wouldn’t call another woman a cow or a pig, don’t call yourself that. And if you would call another woman a cow or a pig, see directly above. And don’t make self-deprecating jokes, thinking that if you say it first it will be more bearable than if someone else said it, because no one is going to say it. This is another hard one that I struggled with, but it took me a really long time to realize that the only person in the room obsessed with my fatness was me. No one else was going to bring it up, and when I brought it up, even as a joke, it just displayed how insecure I was and made everyone else uncomfortable.
Let’s just treat people as individuals with individual bodies, the sizes and shapes of which are not our property to assign value. Let’s stop worrying about the amount of sandwiches they are or aren’t eating. And if you’re not a doctor, speaking directly to your patient? Don’t give out fucking health advice and expect to met with anything other than the cold, hard bitch-slap of reality when people call you out.
And it should go without saying that if you’re a cartoonist, don’t draw a comic where a fat girl stands in an art gallery wishing she lived in an era where rapists would be all up on her. I thought that would go somewhat without saying, but…

I’m not trapped under something heavy!

Posted in Uncategorized

This week has been a bit of a bust, blogging wise, and I apologize for that. I’m working on two books right now, Silent Surrender, a Victorian-era erotic romance novel contracted with Ellora’s Cave (release date TBA) and Triple Play, the last novella in my Hard Ball series from Resplendence Publishing. I’m also working on a proposal for a hot older man/younger woman romance that I’ll shop around at Authors After Dark in Nola this August, and another erotic romance novel I’m hoping to sell this fall. So, as you can see, I’ve got my hands full.

However, an amazing thing happened this week. Danny Trejo’s movie, Bad Ass, came out on DVD. Which means you can expect a review with much fawning and fannish praise coming your way next week, and details of my trip to the Magician’s Cemetery in Colon, MI.

In the meantime, if you haven’t seen this, you’re probably not living your life to its fullest potential:

SOMEONE OUGHT TO OOOOOOPEN UP A WINDOW!

Posted in Uncategorized

Usually, I spend the 4th drinking hard from 9 am and blowing shit up, but I’m trying to quit drinking and the fire danger is high in my area, so this year I’m going to settle for working and avoiding the outside as much as possible.

However, one tradition that I recently picked up for myself is an annual watching of 1776, a fine film in which Mr. Feeny is history, rather than teaches history.

So, I guess what I’m saying is, here is a half-ass blog post full of clips from 1776.




Before you ask, yes, yes I was insufferable on my trip to Philadelphia last summer.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Posted in Uncategorized

I think you should probably brace yourselves, dear readers, because I’m going to be talking about this vacation all week.

Here’s what went down: Bronwyn Green, Jess Jarman, Kris Norris, Mia Watts, my mentee Emily and myself all holed up in a cabin on Michigan’s beautiful Keweenaw (pronounced “cue-en-naw” by Yoopers) peninsula. There was no phone, no lights, no motorcar, not a single luxury. Like David Caruso, we were leaving NYPD. Okay, we had lights and cars, but we definitely didn’t have cell or internet reception. It was the most peaceful, idyllic setting a writer could wish for, except for all the giggling and drinking, which really cut into our writing time.

Several days during the week, I went running along the beach:

Seriously, gorgeous views like this were just steps from our lodgings, and we saw… I counted five other people the entire time we were there. It was like being in a world all our own.
The wildlife was another story all together, though. We saw plenty of evidence of our forest friends. The catchphrase for the trip quickly became, “Or the bears will come,” based on the ominous wording in the cabin rental instructions. If you do… I would say pretty much anything, the bears will come.
I think they might be vampire bears, too, because:
I’m pretty sure that’s a box of wooden stakes there. We never needed it, but I was grateful that our hosts thoughtfully left them for us.
We did a lot of rock picking on the beach. Every wave washed up new treasures. My favorite being this mitten shaped rock that looks a hell of a lot like the Lower Peninsula.
And one day we got to watch a freaking enormous moth emerge from his freaking enormous cocoon on one of the deck chairs. When he came out, his wings were all limp like noodles, and then after a few hours they poofed out and he was a pretty good looking dude.
I’ve written about the beauty of the U.P. before, specifically about Lake Superior and her strange, primal beauty. But how does one celebrate the majesty and grandeur of the Big Lake, the “Big Water of Many Faces” as she is known?
With bacon cheesecake. Fucking duh.

Awesome Armintrout Bacon Cheesecake

You will need:
  • Six strips of bacon, cooked but not too crispy, because they’ll get hard in the refrigerator (that’s what she said… if “she” were a particularly horny gallon of milk, I suppose).
  • A tub of that pre-made cheesecake filling.
  • A pre-made graham cracker crust
  • Potential toppings, which we will discuss in a moment.
Basically, all you need to do is take four of the cooked bacon strips (don’t use the pre-made bacon, that shit is terrible. It’s like pork paper) and dice them up, then mix them into the tub of filling. Then you spread it out in the crust, take the other two strips to garnish the top (I am of the “yeah, an x. An x of bacon will do,” school of cake decorating on this one) and put it in the fridge for a few hours.
You can top this with basically whatever you want. I did strawberries macerated in sugar and mashed up, but maple syrup or hot fudge would also be good. You really can’t mess this one up. The bacon does all the work.
For the record, on this trip, I wrote thirteen thousand words and gained three pounds.