Ramblings on Writing
Reviews, Rants, and Observations on SF/F/H

I am a thirty-something speculative fiction writer. More importantly to this blog, I am a reader of science fiction, horror, and science fiction. Recently it came to my attention that there are very few places reviewing short stories in the genres that I love. I also had the epiphany that I had not been reading enough of these stories. So, an idea was born to address both of these issues.

So, starting in September 2012, this silly little blog of mine that has more or less been gathering dust will be dedicated to looking at and reviewing short form works published both in print magazines and in on-line formats.

Reviews will be posted at least once a month, hopefully more, and stories will be selected completely at my whim. However, if you have read something amazing, thought-provoking, or interesting, please feel free to drop me a recommendation.

Because a big part of the point of this exercise is to improve my own writing by looking at people doing it successfully, I will only be selecting stories to look at from professional or semi-professional markets.

Please note, however, because a big part of the point of this exercise is to improve my own writing by looking at people doing it successfully, I will only be selecting stories to look at from professional or semi-professional markets.

I intend to write honest, and hopefully interesting, reviews to let people know more about the wide variety of fantastic (both in subject and quality) stories out there. There will be no personal attacks on authors and no excoriating hatchet jobs. There is nothing to be learned from reviewing truly bad work and nothing to be gained by being mean. I will not do it and, should I be so lucky as to get readers and commentators, I would ask that they not do so either. Be respectful and everyone gets to have a more interesting conversation.

What I will do is to give my honest and reasoned reactions to stories and try to determine why or why not particular elements worked. I will try to acknowledge my personal biases and to become more open-minded about those things that are not in the realm of my personal preference.

Also, because this is my blog and I can, there may be occasional entries on my own writing process, things I find interesting, or whatever else I feel inclined to add. This may all crash and burn spectacularly, but it's going to be a heck of a lot of fun in the meantime.

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Mood:
Pensive

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Back, But This is Not a Review

I was walking the dog last night. It was 10:30, our neighborhood was still and quiet.

There was no threat, no ominous stranger on the street. I was alone on the block, headed to a park down a little ways from the house. It should have been peaceful.

But, I was afraid. Well, perhaps nervous is a better word. Keyed up, and on high alert.

As a kid, all the way through high school even, I loved to walk late at night. I'd wander hither and fro for hours, just enjoying being outside. Day, night, 2 AM, didn't matter. Since I was (and still am) a terrible insomniac, those late night walks were common. It never occurred to me that it was abnormal, I was never, ever worried.

I didn't grow up in a tiny town where everyone knew each other or anything. I just had not yet been conditioned to believe that as a girl, I needed to be afraid, that simply existing at night while alone put me at risk.

I miss those days.

Now, I have absorbed the messages being doled out to women. Be aware, be cautious, you are never safe. Consider what you wear, how much you drink (not that I do, being allergic to alcohol), who you are around, both in public and private. Always, always be alert to how what you are doing can make you seem like a victim, because one false step and someone will hurt you.

I don't want to give a false impression here--I am not paranoid and I do not spend my live expecting trouble for the most part. It's more insidious than that. If it were conscious I could combat it. But, it's not. It's an impulse planted deep, a perception of danger that only becomes obvious in situations like last night.

When I am alone, walking a dog, in a perfectly safe area, and I can't shake the sense of anxiety. Where the nice old couple that appeared halfway through offered to walk me home and tsked over my husband letting me be out by myself.

I shouldn't need a damn babysitter to walk my dog. I shouldn't have to be nervous to wander my own neighborhood whenever I want.

Of course violence can happen to everyone. My husband, who loves running at night, could be mugged. But, he doesn't go out for each run with the fear of that in his hind brain.

But, I do. Because I happen to be a woman.

In a time when we are trying to teach young girls to be independent, to strive to have it all, the fact we also need to teach them to be afraid, constantly, is so contradictory as to be ridiculous.

I don't know how to fix this. I just know it makes me so angry I had to get it out there. And I'm going to keep walking my dog at night because I refuse to let fear make me a victim in my own head.


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