Hello friends… So, the site has been up, then down.  And then up again, and then down again.  And now it is up again. :)  We’ve been having just a few technical difficulties, but I hope that this is the end of them for quite some time.

And now, what have we to look forward to?  Well, I shall be posting the PDF of Book 2 (both with and without snark) quite soon, perhaps by this evening.  And now, a teaser (NSFW) of the next DESS chapter, brought to you by the lovely Traci Snow.

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No one gets the poor girl except Edward…

So, okay.  At the risk of spoiling my own latest chapter, I’m going to address an issue that some of the reviewers very kindly expressed their confusion about.  (This is as opposed to the people who just flame.  I’m not addressing them.)  Right.  So…

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Do any of us ever know what we’re getting into?  Really?

Did I know what I was getting into when I started writing The Day the Earth Stood Still?  No.  No, I did not.  The sheer volume of words is way beyond anything that I’d tackled before.  I knew it was going to be long when I started, but honestly, I thought it was going to be standard novel long.  You know, maybe eighty thousand words, if I was lucky, if I finished (which I was determined to do if only as a test to myself).  Well, those of you who have been following along know very well that is is in no way, shape, or form only eighty thousand words.  Hell, Book 1 is longer than that.  What has been published as is (thirteen chapters in book one, thirteen chapters in book two, and four chapters in book three) is already upwards of three hundred forty thousand words.  The outtakes are edging toward thirty thousand words.

The Day The Earth Stood StillAnd I’m not close to done.

There was a time where I updated twice a week.  And then once a week.  It has slowed down significantly from that.  Have I abandoned it?  No, absolutely not.  I had to take some time to figure some things out, during which my muses were not so much inspiring me as soothing me, speaking sweetly to me, and encouraging me.  They are largely back to inspiring me again, and though my output won’t be weekly, it will be.  There’s a chapter at the beta’s house, and one half done.  Fear not.  It will be finished.  I love my Edward!Muse too much to just start ignoring him wholesale.  Where would I be if I ignored my muses?  He might talk.  My other muses might get the hint that they’re not wanted.  They might let all of my plot bunnies free in the wild, somewhere far from me.  Oh, hell no.  (This is short for, Oh my goodness, that would be hell, no I shant do that, thank you for asking.)

It will be finished.  But don’t ask when.  Or, you know, feel free to ask, but you’re not likely to get an answer.  I have no idea, is the thing.  I’m just along for the ride, chronicling the mad adventures of two people in love and occasionally (just occasionally, mind), putting my own twist on the state of affairs.

You know, I just twittered about this, but 140 characters just wasn’t enough to convey my sentiment.  Go figure.  There are other things I could be doing right now, but nothing seems quite as important as this just now.

The way we treat actors in this country is utterly reprehensible.  Utterly.

We idolize them, making them into icons of perfection that they, of course, are not, and we set our expectations so high that they sometimes harm themselves in trying to satisfy them, and us, except our appetite is out of control, voracious and ever-thirsty.

We attack them, so deep in our own insanity we consider our behavior acceptable, justifiable, understandable, and we rationalize it away.  Except all of our reasons sound a lot like a rape offender trying to get out of the consequences of their own unacceptable behavior.  ’Did you see what she was wearing?  She asked for it!  She was teasing me.  She’s just made for sex.  She didn’t have to say anything, I just knew.  We’d already gone so far, I had a right to finish…’  So we might imagine from someone who forced themselves on another person, sexually.  But what do we say about actors and paparazzi that is so very different?  We blame the actors, first of all.  Yes, let’s do blame the victim.  What a very enlightened way to deal with the situation.  ”They’re actors.  They love the attention.  They knew this was going to happen.  It’s just part of being famous and successful.  They deny it, but they love the publicity.  We have a right to see and know where the go, who they meet, and what they do…”  And if that’s how we really feel, if we have already so easily, so successfully objectified them, it’s really only one short step to an outright attack on their person – physically, psychologically, emotionally, with a camera, with a rumor, with unwanted and obnoxious attention in moments that are otherwise privately enjoyed by everyone else in this world.

And this objectification… let’s break that down into a smaller word, shall we?  We strip them of their dignity.  The basic dignity that every human being has a right to claim.  My own understanding of this is rooted in my faith tradition, but I know full well that every single faith tradition, including humanism and existentialism, puts a very high value on preserving the dignity of every human being, whatever technical way the describe that dignity.  And how do we deny their dignity?  We strip them of the right to living their own private life.  We take advantage of every technology available to us, and we stalk them.  We make it our business to know who they had lunch with on Tuesday, if they think their co-star is pretty, we buy magazines that have photographs that were taken without their permission or knowledge whose articles are full of supposition, gossip, and rumor.  We ourselves may be the person who takes the illicit camera phone picture, or the person who throws themselves bodily at the poor actor, or we may simply buy the magazine in the grocery asile, supporting the massive industry that thrives on disrespecting people on the big screen and the small.

And then, we act innocent.

We refuse, even, to open our eyes to see how we support the evil that this is.  We take our violent infatuation, our violent need to know and turn it into a weapon that genuinely hurts people.  Why?  Because we can.  And no one calls us on our disrespectful, harmful behavior.

I’m not here to preach, I’ll leave that for Sunday.  I’m here to be outraged, and that I can do at any time.

I’m utterly outraged.  Yes, this blogpost was inspired by one particular attack on one particular actor, but anyone who has eyes to see knows that he is simply the actor of the moment, and only of the moment in some circles.  That any actor requires bodyguards is one excellent indication of the madness of our times.

To all the actors of the age, to all who aspire to exercise their craft without a desire to be placed on a pedestal and then be torn down from it, and to the actor of the moment who was attacked so recently, Mr. Robert Pattinson, you have my non-violent thoughts and prayers for your well-being, that you may find peace and joy in the midst of the violence to which you are subjected by people who claim to appreciate and respect you.  I wish you peace.

“A plot begins with an unexpected challenge that confronts a character with an urgent need to pay attention, to make a choice, a choice for which s/he is unprepared. The choice yields an outcome–and the outcome teaches a moral. Because we can empathetically identify with the character, we can “feel” the moral.  We not only hear “about” someone’s courage; we can also be inspired by it. ”

This, from the Episcopal Church.   (I love my church!)  I got it from my dean (thanks Earle!), and I’m using it in a short series I’m teaching about evangelism (Ack!  The dreaded ‘E’ word!), but you know, it just resonates with me on so many levels.  I mean, y’all know I’m a storyteller, first and foremost.  I’m in my element when I remember that, and I’m a fish out of water when I try to do something another way.  But seriously, something Jedi Buttercup said to me in a review over on Fanfiction.net  in response to Chapter Seven (Integrity, Courage, Perpetuity) of The Day The Earth Stood Still really sparked something for me.  She quoted the part of the chapter where Edward is trying to dig himself out the hole he just created with Bella by referencing that at least her mother gave her a really healthy, comprehensive sex talk, and that there were worse ways to find out about sex in general, and your own sexuality in particular. 

“At least you had the security of your mother giving you an honest talk in the privacy of your home. You didn’t have to find out from misinformed friends, or heaven help us all, Emmett in Spanish class.”

To which Jedi Buttercup added in her review:

Heh. Or from fanfic. Those horrifying little pamphlets they pass out in health class have nothing on other people’s imaginations.

And this, as it happens, is one of the things I’m most passionate about.  Really, it’s neck and neck with Jesus, and as I see it, it is the little way in which I can help the coming of the Kingdom of God: Healthy attitudes toward sex.  Here’s what I’ve written up to put in the author’s note of Chapter Eight of that same story.

In the reviews, Jedi Buttercup discovered my secret motive for writing fic with sex in it.  Is it just because erotica is fun?  Actually, no.  (Though of course, it is.)  It’s because so many of us have gotten and are still getting our understanding of sex – what it is to be in a sexual relationship, what sex is actually like, how and when and why to have sex, and what is ‘normal’ when it comes to sex – from the written word, from romance novels, from fic, from storytelling in any medium.

 And so much of what is out there is utter crap. 

It’s not physically possible, or likely, it’s unhealthy, and it portrays emotionally damaging situations in a positive light.  Honestly, it pisses me off.  So I have made it my mission in life as a thirty year old female priest who thinks that God made the clitoris for a reason (yes, I am a priest – I’m one of the cool ones) to provide an alternative narrative: stories where sex is present and described in really healthy ways between people who deeply love one another and are striving to have a healthy relationship.  Obviously, these stories are for everyone – people who already know exactly what it is like to have healthy sex within a healthy relationship, plus all the people who are deeply in need of healing, because they know what it’s like not to have healthy sex.  And especially, I write for those who are just discovering sex, and themselves as sexual beings, so they can discover what healthy looks like, from the start. 

So, God bless you all, and wish me luck. 

It may be that I am back to dwelling in the realm of the bizarre. I do that sometimes.  It’s usually my writing that takes me there.  At the moment, I’m working on a Twilight fic that is somewhat expansive in nature.  In fact, it’s the first work in progress that I’ve begun, knowing I probably won’t finish.  I usually at last have every intention of finishing.  But I’m not sure if I have the stamina for it.  But that’s not what I’m blogging to say.

Rather, I just wanted to put it out there, that I think I have actually come back to the land of the really bloody weird.  I’m writing a first person narrative of a character who can read minds, which is surprisingly fun, as I get to work through all of my sneaking suspicions that I have concerning thought and the mindscape (for background on this, imagine the works of Eckhart Tolle meets Zen (meditation) and that should give you and idea).  And that’s all to the good.  But it does mean that I end up writing, in essence, first person him, and third person whoever else he’s listening to, which is sort of like having your cake and eating it, too.  I handicap myself, because he sees/hears the mentalscape, not emotions, so that makes it interesting…

But I’m writing a scene in which he is listening to someone’s dreams.  And he’s in the dreams.  And he’s acting in the dream, in ways he wouldn’t choose to act in reality, but it’s not his dream, so he doesn’t get to choose (if, arguably, we could even choose in our dreams).

And of course, if you are a twihard, you know precisely what I’m talking about, but seriously – to make it good… to do it the justice that I think it deserves… it’s just… it’s getting bloody weird, is all I’m saying.  And I think it ought to.  But then I take a step back and think, man, that is bizarre.  Can I really ask for that kind of suspension of disbelief, or am I asking too much?

I mean, Bella’s dream the first night after the day she met Edward is really off the wall, but then most of our dreams are.  And she doesn’t remember much of it when she wakes up in the middle of the night, and I don’t think she’s going to remember any of it by morning, which okay, is situation normal.  But then how weird is that.  Because Edward has perfect recall, and he’s a bit of a drama king.  So we have Edward flipping out and Bella oblivious of the havoc she’s wreaked.  Which, arguably, is also situation normal.

::sigh::

I don’t know.  I’m open to suggestion.  Please.  Suggest.  Fic in question: The Day The Earth Stood Still.

Right.  So I have a new blog.  It’s not really mine.  I moderate, I attempt to facilitate.  But it dawns on me, just how bloody addictive they really are.

And perhaps this should not be at all surprising, especially to me.  Hm.  Perhaps.

The Clergy Collegiality Team got to brainstorming, again, and one of my musings got aired: how come the clergy of the diocese don’t have a blog?  What’s up with that?  It was in the context of a larger conversation, of course, but I decided to put my money where my mouth was, or at least, my time and energy where my mouth was, so I came home and created one.  Which was fine, really, as I’m sort of Typhoid Mary right now, and blogging is about the only thing I’m up for, as I conserve my energy for tonight’s potluck bible study.

And it does help that wordpress makes it so beautifully easy to moderate/administer/contribute/use multiple blogs at once.  I totally dig that.  Blogging – it’s getting easier and easier.  (Which reminds me, I need to migrate my blogspot blog and close it down, as well as close down my lj…  Hm.)

But whether or not it flies is entirely up to my willingness or unwillingness to communicate, in the end.  So, we’ll see. :)

Oh, the address?  Right.  Right…  EpiscopalWNY.wordpress.com

This, from the author’s note of the story I’m working on in the Twilight fandom…

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced of three things.  First, that Edward’s inability to hear Bella’s thoughts leads to the worst excesses of the negative aspects of his character.  His autocratic bearing, his temper, his inability to respect her autonomy and her intelligence, his tendency to brood, and his basic insecurity. 

Second, that Edward’s overwhelming bloodlust when it comes to Bella significantly alters his experience of her in a way that even he, in his over analysis of all things, has never considered.  Like a newborn who must learn to control their bloodlust before anything else is dealt with, so it goes with Edward.  He is left completely at the mercy of his instincts, thus his grip on reality is really quite tenuous, leaving him entirely unable to apply to his situation the vast intelligence that he has and the century of experience and insight into the mind of vampires and humans alike. 

Third, that these two things combined serve to cut off Edward, and thus, Bella, and indeed, most if not all of the Cullen Clan, to a basic truth that I have put into the mouth of Esme in this story.  That truth is this: Vampires mate for life.  The bond is formed in only a moment or two, it is permanent, mutual, irrevocable, and there is no possibility for it to be mistaken for anything else, as vampires otherwise do not fall in love.  Further more, the only vampire in the Cullen Clan who bonded with another vampire instead of a human was Alice. 

Of these three things, I am absolutely convinced.

And I have 11, 579 words at my beta’s house being mulled over that back up my conviction.  Chapter one, “First Sight” is finished.

Continuing the naming convention of celesitial spheres and their activities, real or imagined, I’m calling this fic, “The Day the Earth Stood Still”  And I’m certain that in some language there’s a special and succinct way of saying it – perhaps in Hebrew, or one of the Native American languages.  Or German, come to think of it.  They tend to concatenate things.  A single word, or phrase would be most eloquent, but I have only English at my disposal, so I’ll settle for my six-word phrase.

Thanks for listening to my little fic-centric rant.

So given the sheer volume of fic that I ingest, it is perhaps not surprising that I’m wondering about this.  But you know, I’ve gotten to thinking.  So many AU’s, so much OOC fic, so many AH, which I abhored, at first, but have now grown to love.  And mid last year, Ms. Meyer committing to finishing and publishing Midnight Sun (all hail the living God), it’s just all gotten me to thinking, because really, barring the entire saga from his pov, that’s all the official drama we’re going to get of our favorite couple, though I have hopes that we’ll have a book or two dedicated to Carlisle and Esme, Jasper and Alice, Emmett and Rosalie (that last one, could be lemon-scented, don’t you think?).  Honestly, I could live without knowing Nessie & Jake’s story.  But that’s just personal preference, and I know that if she writes it, I will buy it and read it.

But it gets me thinking.  Ontology.  Ontology is the beingness of something.  If you have an ontological change, there has been a change in your very being.  Now, I’ll grant you that I think about ontology all the time, but usually not a vampire’s ontology.  Well, okay, maybe at one point, but it was a phase, honest.  But vampires, as Meyer writes them, come in four flavors, or two sets, if you will, and the sets are mutually exclusive.

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And, Grumble.

An entire scene of beautiful dialogue gone. Gone. Just the most fleeting of impresions remains.

Grumble.

At least I’d already finished the fic – this scene was a left over. But it was LOVELY! Damn.

Tis over on ff.net, for those who are interested and in the know. I know, I know. ff.net, is the lowest of the low, but I was feeling lazy, and that, my friends, seems to be where some of the good iron man movieverse fics reside. Now that we’ve written them.

Don’t you love getting in at the bottom floor of a fandom? Only problem: there aren’t already 3000 good fic for you to lose yourself in. You’ve actually got to produce.

Well, it’s a good thing that Tony Stark just happens to be a sane, playboy, superhero version of my father (who, in case you wanted to know, explained to me the science behind the arc reactor, and his own research into the subject – which i’d heard about before – because, of course, he knows. Because, a slightly unhinged, remarried, non-superhero version of Mr. Stark, is Dr. Gordy), or else I’d have no ‘in’ to his character and wouldn’t be able to write any passible fic at all, after only a few days. Usually takes longer than that for me to get inside a character’s head.

Hell, it usually takes months. And then, if I’m a very good writer and an exemplary person in general, the muse shows up some months later.

Guess, I ask you, who stormed into my living room and asked about a certian … um, well, he was upset about something i’d failed to write, even by the end of the fic. Yes, that’s right. Muse!Tony. Who knew? I was just as shocked as anyone. I was writing back to someone who’d left a review, commenting about the proper placement of lemons (I had a later date in mind) and in stormed Mr. Stark, just a smidge upset with me for holding my stated opinion.

He would have thoroughly approved of the scene that I lost. He would have. It would have had the Stark Industries stamp of approval.

::sigh::

Maybe it’ll come back?

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