That this shit happens, specifically threats of all kinds and harassment of women in the game industry — that this happens and keeps happening over and over and over again, on every scale… this is why I speak out. It’s why I share links, it’s why I re-blog posts, it’s why I’m on social media.
Those writers you think are masters of the craft aren’t created that way. They aren’t supernaturally capable ninja writer-bots. When you read the work of a writer operating at the top of her game, you’re not seeing all the years of failed efforts, of work that wasn’t quite right, of work that was well-intentioned or built off of strong ideas but had slick and wobbly legs like a newborn fawn.
You see the author operating at a high level and you wonder: why am I not doing that?
The reality is:
You’re only seeing the island, not the heap of volcanic material that pushed it out of the sea.
“In many ways, Under an Empyrean Sky and the world it spawns is the perfect mythos for the 2010’s. It’s an exaggeration of the current mentality where a chosen few keep the rest of humanity down. Dirt farms raising toxic crops instead of poorly paying jobs. The rich living in ships in the sky instead of simply skyscrapers. The whole game rigged so no one gets above their station. Whether you believe this is reality or not, Wendig has woven it into a Menckenesque dystopia.”
“Robin Williams just showed up at the [UCB] theater one night. I think he had heard that we do comedy, and he stopped by and asked if he could sit in, and of course, we were like, “Yes.” He’s an improviser, and he didn’t know the “ASSSSCAT” rules, but it didn’t matter.
I remember afterwards, saying, “That’s a lesson in fear: He literally didn’t know the format, and he’s used to doing it all by himself.” I feel a lot of times I judge stuff before it even comes out of my mouth, and he has no filter.
But I also remember calling my mom and saying, “You’ll never believe this, but Robin Williams gave me a lap dance tonight.” He was playing a stripper, and I was playing a dude who came with my friends to a strip club, and he came and he rubbed his belly on my face and straddled me. It was amazing.”—Lennon Parham (via thank-you-mrs-loopner)
Hi Mr. Gaiman (Mr. Neil Gaiman? Mr. Neil? There needs to be an etiquette book for addressing your favorite author online). I'm a self-published author on Amazon, and I got an email from them regarding the conflict with Hachette this morning, trying to persuade us to write in support of Amazon. Thought it might interest you to see what the enemy is saying. I put it on my tumblr if you'd like to take a look--its the most recent post. Hope it helps! -HK
I’m a Hachette Author in the UK. My wife’s a Hachette Author now, and she has a big book coming out in November, which you cannot pre-order through Amazon. Which sucks. I don’t regard Amazon as the enemy, any more than I regarded Barnes and Noble as the enemy when they had a dispute with DC Comics and stopped selling the hundred top DC Comics Graphic Novels in their stores (which included 17 books by me, including all Sandman).
Buy from Amazon.com or Amazon.ca Author’s website | Publisher’s website Publication date - July 29, 2014 Summary: (Taken from GoodReads) Cael McAvoy is on the run. He’s heading toward the Empyrean …
Under the Empyrean Sky was a good book. Blightborn kicked it up a notch and turned a good story into a great one. With this trend, I’m expecting the third book to blow me away, to be as impressive as I’ve come to expect from Wendig’s writing. If you start this series, it’s one that you’re not going to leave behind and forget about. From the very real and increasingly diverse cast of characters to the twisted setting and its social commentary to the exciting plot about bringing down a corrupt and abusive system, it’s the kind of series that those hungry for action and adventure will simply devour!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat some corn.
Buy from Amazon.com or Amazon.ca Author’s website | Publisher’s website Publication date - July 30, 2013 Summary: (Taken from GoodReads) Corn is king in the Heartland, and Cael McAvoy has had enoug…
Today’s review! If you’re looking for something that isn’t your typical YA SFF novel, then this is a good bet. The writing flows smoothly, the story’s easily to follow and very engaging, with characters that feel real enough that they could easily be people who live down the street from you (assuming their house is filled with aggressive corn…). It’s a set-up to what suspect with end up bigger and more complex as the trilogy goes on, and happily so, because there’s a lot of potential for growth here and I want to see certain things explored further.
It’s been an ongoing debate for months, with each side pointing the finger at the other side. The issue? Verizon customers watching Netflix with slow playback speeds. The crux of the issue is that when streaming Netflix using Verizon, the speeds seem to be slower than normal causing buffering and a poor viewing experience.
Sure, you have a two year old and you think, jeez, what happened to this kid. You had an adorable little marshmallow running around gooble-gobbling, and then one day things changed and out of nowhere you had this irritable little creature — like he had sand in the elastic of his diaper always turning him surly. But you think: I only have a year of this. They call this the Terrible Twos, so I just have to weather the storm for one year. One. Year.
The only way through is out, you think.
You breathe a sigh of relief and lay your head down to sleep, assured that This Is Only Temporary.
This is the moment where I light a red road flare in a dark room and when the crimson glow illuminates the space, you see that monstrous toddlers are all around us. Crawling up the walls, hissing. Black cricket eyes hungry for your soul. Little claws tickety-click-clicking on wet stone. Squalling, shrieking, whining. SWARMING.
This is the moment where I tell you that I AM FROM YOUR FUTURE, and that the Terrible Twos are not — I repeat, not — the end. Oh, no, dear parent. I am here to warn you:
The Terrible Twos are only the beginning.
The Terrible Twos are just the chrysalis. The child’s body was just a preparation for an ancient, infernal monkey-demon slumbering in his tiny heart. Now the cocoon has been shed and your very own monkey-demon — who looks a little like you and who is now learning to communicate with its human keepers — is loose in your home.
The Terrible Twos?
These are the Terrible Threes. Er, the Therrible Threes? The Threatening, Thunderous, Thrashing Threes? Maybe the ‘That Used To Be A Human Child But Now It Is An Implacable Monkey-Demon Who Hungers For Chaos” Threes. WHATEVER. I’ve heard them called “Threenagers,” because this age is like a porthole window into the teenage years of the child, but taxonomically that’s false, since three-year-olds are monkey-demons and teenagers are mopey asshole-golems. Jesus, it’s like nobody ever read the D&D Monster Manual. Pssh. Pfft! HFFT.
Doesn’t matter. Point is, you’re going to need help.
I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned earlier, but I am sick to death of dystopian fiction. I read a surfeit of it as a teenager, and sometimes it seems like there’s very little besides paranormal romance and dystopias available in the YA section. So I’d pretty much sworn not to read any more. And yet. I read this despite the blurb describing it as a “chilling post-apocalyptic adventure” and I loved it.
Ripping a still-beating heart from the chest cavity that shelters it, as the blood washes all over you in a warm, red fountain. It runs in rivulets, like miniature water falls, down your face; some even winds its way toward your open mouth.
The penny-copper tastes coats your tongue before making its way down your throat. At first you double over, gaging for a moment before feelings of…
Nope, they don’t. And they may have experiences not indicative of yours. So what? What do you think everyone who isn’t like you has been experiencing all this time? That same feeling. And yet they still read Batman or watch the same television shows.
Confession time: I’m a jerky white dude. I’m clumsy in my assumptions and preconceived notions and — hey, I acknowledge my privilege. The privilege of privilege is being blinded by it and blind to it. You can walk around all day, whistling like a happy asshole, completely unaware of all the toxic douchebaggery splashing all around. We step on flowers we don’t even notice.
Sometimes, though, you have your eyes opened to it, and it’s a real holy-shit-we’re-in-some-kind-of-sexist-racist-Matrix moment. Rape culture doesn’t seem like a thing until someone starts pointing it out and then it’s a really awful Magic Eye painting, except instead of seeing a dolphin you’re seeing how we ask rape victims what they did to deserve getting raped. Once someone tells you, “That Terrible Thing is really an actual thing,” it’s ants, it’s dust, it’s fingerprints-on-glass. Didn’t notice it before, but now you realize it’s freaking everywhere.
And one of those “it’s freaking everywhere” moments is when you realize, oh, yeah, okay, our pop culture has been speaking very directly to heteronormative middle-class white-guy culture for a long time. Comics, television, novels, whatever. It’s time to share the storytelling. Time to pass the Talking Stick. Besides, maybe if we saw more diversity on the page, we might be willing to acknowledge the diversity outside our doors. I often say that the most valuable multitasking we can teach our kids and express in ourselves is to dual-wield Empathy and Logic, and if this helps in that, so be it. If this makes people more open? More aware? How is that possibly a bad thing?
“South Florida’s pine rockland, itself an endangered habitat with less than 2 percent remaining, hosts over 225 types of plants, 20 percent of which are exclusive to the area, and five of which are either threatened or endangered. And now, according to the Miami Herald, it’s about to boast a 158,000-square-foot Walmart, along with a L.A. Fitness, a Chik-fil-A, a Chili’s, and about 900 apartments. Of the 88 acres sold to a developer by the University of Miami, a mere 40 will be set aside for a preserve.”—Walmart is about to level an entire forest. (via wilwheaton)
Comcast rep: “I’m trying to help you.” Customer Ryan Block: “You can help us by disconnecting our service.” Uh-huh.
The other day, tech guy Ryan Block called Comcast, the largest cable provider in the U.S., with a reasonable request to cancel his service—something plenty of people do every day.
What he got instead was a nightmare of a phone call from a Comcast service rep who, instead of simply disconnecting his service and telling him to have a nice day, stubbornly insisted on asking the same myopic questions, over and over again for at least 18 minutes straight.