When Writing Hurts.

Two days ago, I finally located the flashdrive that had so much of my work on it, both finished and in-progress. I wasn't too worried about finding it. I knew it was safely put away in my house and I had gone through a rather impressive creative spurt these past few months that kept my submission rotation going strong.

While revisiting some of the stories on the drive, I located one that I thought had been published before. However, when I asked Google, the only result was a post by yours truly discussing the odd rejection letter it received from an editor. That post was written nine years ago and can be read here. (For the record, it is no longer the oddest rejection letter I've received) Since this was the only thing I could find associating that title with my name, I had no choice but to conclude that it had never been published. There's probably a good reason for that.

This story, possibly more than any other I've written, is so uncomfortably personal, so intense and unflinchingly honest about its subject matter, namely the complete loss of sanity from rejected love and the depths to which one can sink, that I'm surprised I finished it without winding up in a fetal ball in a puddle of my own drool.

Yes, it's that intense.

The amount of pain and anger that went into that story makes me uncomfortable, so I can only imagine how the editor felt!

But a writer shouldn't shy away from baring his or her soul. Ever. If you ever doubt that I fully embrace that philosophy, you should probably pledge at least a dollar to my Patreon page and see for yourself.  The third and latest post in particular will tell you everything you need to know.

I feel this decade-old story deserves to be published, but I also know it's a difficult sell because of its subject matter and execution. So, I'm going to send it out once or twice and see what happens. If no one bites, it will wind up on the Patreon page and, somewhere down the line, in a short story collection.

When writing hurts, share it with others so they can experience it, too. Not to be sadistic, but shared human experience shouldn't stop at fuzzy self-help moments. Unless you're open as a reader to all that life offers, you are cutting yourself off from truth and that, my friends, is when things will really start to hurt~

Quote of the Week.

(Cocaine) Makes you think you're smarter than everyone else. Makes you talk too much. Makes you think you're incredibly attractive even when you're fat and old. Makes you think you're on top of the world even when everything is falling apart.

Does that make you think of anyone?

-Tad Williams

  

An Intelligent Response to the Moronic White Supremacist Call to Boycott Star Wars Rogue One

The history of science fiction, as a genre, has always held within it a firm and total denouncement of xenophobia and bigotry, and a boundless optimism for a pluralistic universe of possibilities.

Whether it is the extreme pluralism presented in the Star Wars universe, or the quasi-utopia of the Federation in Star Trek, or the much more blatant and outright denouncement of ultra-nationalism and fascism presented in Babylon 5, nearly every major science fiction narrative presents a denouncement against hate and those who use hate and fear as a means for accumulating power. None of this even begins to mention the history of Doctor Who as a political platform, or the works of Heinlein or Frank Herbert.

I've not yet seen Rogue One, but given the history of political undertones present in hints throughout the original trilogy, and placed front-and-center in the prequels, I wouldn't be surprised if this narrative continues here.

If those who exploit ignorance, hate and fear to justify and perpetuate their greed happen find themselves being called out in this film, or in any other, perhaps they should take a good long hard look in the mirror and ask themselves why.

- Scott Mulder

Two for Thanksgiving.

The only other time I ever wrote about Thanksgiving on this blog took the form of a history lesson/rant about the absolute bullshittery involved in such a dubious holiday. I was called crazy for writing it so I knew I’d done the right thing. I never revisited the topic because, honestly, what’s left to say that hasn’t been expounded on by others far more knowledgeable than I?

So, this post is not a history lesson but it is most certainly a rant.  A personal one.

In the wake of my mother-in-law’s passing, several things came to light and to pass. But she didn’t need to physically pass away to make that happen. Even before she was gone, months before, when she was no longer aware that it was a holiday,  my wife's siblings realized they no longer needed to avoid her scrutiny if they didn’t include my wife and, by extension, me in holiday gatherings.

Obviously if they could no longer get in trouble, they also no longer had to conform to the old ways of doing things. And while the irony of peoplre who refer to themselves as "The Family" and claim to embrace all forms of traditionalism comprising their supposed core values in the name of convenience and comfort isn’t lost on me, this post isn’t about pointing out hypocrisy. I could spend volumes on that. No, this post is about the simplest of concepts: Right and Wrong.

Who am I to discuss these things as if I’m an expert, they would probably say? My response is as simple as the concept: I’m a human being who knows better than to try and fool myself and others into thinking blatant disregard can be disguised as righteouness.

My wife devoted countless days and nights to her mother’s well-being only to be shut out towards the end for reasons I’ll not expound on here. Suffice it to say, the very least that could be done in honor of their mother and what went before is to extend an invitation to a holiday get-together. Who cares if she says no? If you don’t care enough to even present the appearance of propriety and compassion, you sure as hell shouldn’t care if someone declines an invitation. If anything, you’d get to spin it into a smug assurance of your own moral superiority.

So, perhaps the fear is that the invitation would be accepted and they would have to face their own shortcomings and wrongdoing. It is, after all, easier to remain in one’s bubble than to pop it and risk inhaling less familiar air.

That must be why they couldn’t even wait until their mother was completely gone before beginning the now annual act of choosing not to include my wife in the holidays.

You may notice that I haven’t really included myself in the non-inviting discussion. That’s because I have no stake in this. For my money, I could literally go the rest of my life and never partake in another holiday gathering with them and be perfectly fine. But she is their sister and aunt and they should at least have the good taste to go through the motions. One would think the nieces and nephews she helped raise who are now adults and had nothing to do with the falling out would acknowledge her on holidays, especially since she had made sure to send them birthday wishes. They did not return the favor on her birthday.

This year’s Thanksgiving will be almost like last year’s, with just the two of us feasting on an incredible meal (she prepared her mom's traditional meal to honor her)  my wife has prepared all by herself. Except last year we took food to her mom and spent the evening with her. No one else did that.

 I imagine at some point my wife might be hard-pressed to even do that as the years go on, and who could blame her? Pettiness has a way of gnawing at our souls until there’s precious little left. Still, sometimes I wonder if there really are only two of us. There have been signs and moments that indicate my wife is not alone.

I look forward to what she prepares and am thankful she is in my life and still willing to go through so much to make the day memorable and worthwhile, mostly in honor or her mother’s memory.

Ultimately, it is as my own mother used to say: We can’t control how others act, but we have almost total control over how we react.

Happy Thanksgiving~