The Agunah Problem and Secular Public Opinion

Warning: this post is a departure from my typical games/geeks/feminism/media/design posts. This is going to switch over into a dangerous topic for most people – religion. You have been warned.

Today, an old colleague of mine shared an article from the New York Times onto my Facebook feed. In between posts about New York Comic Con, I read an article about Rabbi Mendel Epstein, who was busted by the Feds in a kidnap-for-hire scheme. Federal agents posed as women in the Jewish community in a sting operation and caught Epstein selling himself out as a kidnapper and torturer. Now why, you’d imagine, would a rabbi do this? Well, he’s not just kidnapping and torturing random guys, folks. He’s kidnapping guys who won’t give their wives divorces.

Let me explain how this works.

Traditionally in Judaism, a man is in sole control over whether or not a marriage may end in divorce. A woman may wish to get a divorce, but the husband is the only one who can actually grant that a divorce will occur. Try to think about that for a second. No matter the situation, no matter what may be going on within the marriage (infidelity, abuse, ect.) a woman may not be divorced from her husband less the husband wants it to happen. Should a man refuse to give his wife a divorce, that woman is not free within the religious community to get into another relationship or, especially, get married. She is trapped in limbo, sometimes with her children in tow, until her husband can be convinced to grant her that divorce. She is known as an Agunah.

This situation wasn’t always as a result of men in the relationship just being heinous louts. The classic stories of women left as Agunot (that’s the plural) in history come from women left in that horrid situation when their husbands went on a long journey and never returned. A more modern example is a husband gone MIA during war. In both cases, a divorce was not granted and no one could be sure that the man was dead, so the woman was stuck as an Agunah either until the situation was resolved… or for the rest of her life. Yet the modern problem has arisen that men have used this structure to effectively extort their wives for the divorce, or else hold them hostage in the relationship entirely. Men in these relationships often demand cash, cars, houses, or even the kids in divorce proceedings before they’ll grant the papers to the wife. And if she can’t pay or won’t give over what’s wanted, she’s trapped.

Enter folks who want to help. They run the range from organizations that try to advocate for Agunot, like ORA (Organization for the Resolution of Agunot) or Agunah International, who advocate for helping resolve the plight of these women.

But you also get guys like Rabbi Mendel Epstein. And some tazers.

Rabbi Epstein - Photo credit: The 5 Towns Jewish Times
Rabbi Epstein – Photo credit: The 5 Towns Jewish Times

I read through the article on Rabbi Epstein’s exploits with a cringe. Why? Because this kind of behavior isn’t an unknown story. I’d heard stories growing up about guys who would try to ‘convince’ a man to give his wife a get (a Jewish divorce). I’d heard stories about the women in question trying everything they possibly could to convince the community, the man’s family, anyone possible, to use what influence they had to help her get a divorce. If you want to read a story about one woman in this horrible situation, check out the webcomic called Unmasked: The Ariella Dadon Story. Heck, even the alleged knee-breaking rabbi himself put out a call over the internet, asking folks to support a Women’s Bill of Rights that would modernize a Jewish woman’s rights within her marriage. While organizations try to resolve things and offer support, and advocates try to get laws changed in religious courts (which is exceptionally, almost impossibly, difficult), some guys drive out there with baseball bats or whatever is needed and take matters into their own hands.

They could help the situation, too. Or else they might end up busted by undercover Federal Agents. Go figure.

Now, there’s a lot about this that is awful. The fact that Rabbi Epstein allegedly took a great deal of money to do this disturbs me, no doubt. Yet what bothers me more about this situation was reading through the New York Times article and feeling the weight of the almighty secular view coming down on the community. “Look at that backward culture,” it seemed to say. “Look at their odd ways. The Feds had to step in and stop a man from kidnapping and tazing members of his own community! For shame!”

Ah, let’s feel some of that good, old fashioned, out of context judgement. Long may it reign.

jokeragunahstory

It is fantastically problematic that Rabbi Epstein allegedly committed multiple felonies (and crossed over state lines to do it!), all the while supposedly getting paid tens of thousands of dollars. But it is more problematic in my mind for the New York Times to write about the arrest without providing cultural context for the Agunah epidemic in their article. Reading the text as written, it is almost impossible to explain why a man would randomly hire himself out to women in the Jewish community as a leg-breaker. Why he’d put men in cars, take them into New Jersey and effectively torture them with tazers. Does it matter why he did it?

Why yes. Yes it does. It provides context and a window into one of the biggest social injustice epidemics in the Orthodox Jewish Community. One that deserves the media indigence and outrage that is being leveled towards this rabbi. Where is the headlines about women being abandoned by their husbands, often without any of the financial support needed to provide for themselves and their children? Where is the outcry articles about women in abusive relationships unable to get away from their abusers to continue their lives because they are trapped by this religious law?

Please understand: I am in no way condoning what this guy did. Although it is SO tempting to me to say ‘I LOVE that this guy took a taser to guys who trap their wives in an unending level and religious nightmare’ I’m also not advocating vigilante, knee-breaking justice. What I’m really talking about here is hopeless misunderstanding and external-culture privilege. The article is a textbook example of a complex religious issue tackled by an external force with no deep understanding of the culture it’s dealing with. As someone who grew up Orthodox, I saw the problem of the Agunah first-hand in women I’d met, and I can say that even I cannot possibly understand the horror of the situation fully. Yet this article doesn’t even brush the surface of explaining things to an audience that doesn’t get why this crime even happened. It’s journalism without context and (perhaps unintentional) spinning of the facts to make the situation look bizarre, and out there. Look at the crazy rabbi, it almost screams, look how backward.

Where are the articles about the Agunot of America in the New York Times? Guess their story isn’t as sexy as kidnapping for hire. Still, even those articles would probably mirror a lot of the ideas I heard from secular friends of mine on the topic. Namely: why don’t the women just leave? Forget the religious divorce and just GO. Well now that’s also a culturally unaware viewpoint. Sure, a woman can up and go. She can leave her culture, her community, her religion, go out into a world where she might not know anyone or at least be unfamiliar with the secular culture. She can abandon her heritage, her beliefs, and therefore be free to do… what? To change her whole life drastically? Speaking as someone who left the community, it isn’t that simple. And more than that: why should these women have to?

The fact that men still hold the power over these women within the community is deplorable. It is a backwards horror, a right as archaic as the notion that a man should control a woman’s future in ANY culture, anywhere, on this our modern earth. If this article brings anything to the surface, it’s that people within the community are willing to literally commit felonies to try and rescue these women from lives of harassment and isolation. And while we should not raise up those who are committing assault to resolve what is a heinous misogynistic law, we certainly can use this opportunity to raise awareness to the plight of these women. So perhaps in the future we won’t need the knee-breakers in the first place.

NOTE: If you want to know more about the situation of Agunot in the United States and the world, please visit the following links:

Agunah International

Organization for the Resolution of Agunot (ORA)

My First PaxEast and “You Game Like A Girl”

This past weekend, the Boston area hosted thousands of gamers rolling into their fair convention center for PaxEast, a major east coast gaming convention. Triple A companies to Indies in video games and tabletop brought their best to show to consumers and panels were held on every subject imaginable. This might have been enough to bring a gamer like me to the Boston area for the con, but I was lucky enough to be involved in one of the panels this year. And let me tell you, it was a heck of a time.

First let me start with saying that as a convention, I found PaxEast to be really enjoyable. The Expo Hall is chock full of video games to try from every company imaginable. I particularly enjoyed discovering a few new independent video games that I am looking forward to, like Red Barrel’s terrifying Outlast and Compulsion Games’ Contrast, both of which I wrote up for Tor.com this week. I also got the chance to get a look at Transistor from the creators of Bastion and I’m going to love putting my hands on it. The Indie Megabooth section was a chance to straight nerd out on great independent companies that are doing stellar work that, I dare say, is competitive with the quality coming out of the Triple A’s.

That, however, wasn’t even the best PART about the convention. PaxEast fostered an open gaming section where you could turn in your ID and take out whatever board game you wanted to try out. This section was open from 10AM until nearly two in the morning, letting gamers just get together with their friends for a good time. I had the privilege of spending most of that time with Rob Donoghue and Fred Hicks from Evil Hat productions, and we got to try a few amazing games that I never would have checked out otherwise (Cockroach Poker, anyone?) I could wax on about the convention, but let’s talk about the major event for me that weekend: the panel.

photoI was privileged enough to be invited by Anja Keister of the D20 Burlesque troupe to come in and speak as a game designer on a panel called “You Game Like A Girl: Tales of Trolls and White Knights.” The idea of the panel was to tackle the fraught issue of women in the gaming and geek community, spanning from the treatment of cosplayers to the representation of women in video games. We had a one hour slot on Sunday morning and the panel featured Susanna Polo from the Mary Sue, Stella Chu (professional cosplayer and burlesque dancer), Iris Explosion (burlesque dancer and sex educator), Anja Keister (founder of D20 Burlesque) and myself. For those who missed the panel you can find it on Twitch.tv here (hint: our panel starts at 3:05:00 – that’s hour three folks!) and check us out talking about the issues facing the female community.

From my perspective it was a surreal day. I got to the theater to see a line of people in the room next door. I asked what they were waiting for, and the Enforcer at the door said: “That’s the line for your theater. It’s already out the door.” I was positively floored. We got into Naga theater and set ourselves up on the stage and they let our audience in. And this? This was our audience.

The audience at "You Game Like A Girl"
The audience at “You Game Like A Girl”

I cannot explain how honored I felt to be in the presence of EIGHT HUNDRED of my fellow gamers who came to hear us talk about the topic of women in gaming. It was an incredible experience as people came up to the microphone and asked us questions or lit up Twitter on #Paxlikeagirl to express their support. A tradition was started too when Iris Explosion got so mad at misogyny issues that she launched a plastic cup off the stage, inspiring others who came up to the microphone to throw cups too. Soon we had the ‘we hate this!’ cup launching going on, which was hilarious and light fun.

The panel went off beautifully with only a modicum of trolling (which I’ll address in another post coming up soon), and the experience was overall super powerful and empowering. After the panel people came up to us to share stories and ask questions. I personally got to meet some women who are going into game design and who had questions about how to engage with problematic team situations or content. I’ve never quite been so humbled to have women ask if I’d be willing to mentor them going forward.

photo copyPeople brought up their badges and had us autograph them and asked us to autograph cups that had been thrown! It was a strangely surreal experience for me in general and we stuck around to talk to people as long as we could before we ran off to head back to New York.

From a game designers perspective, the kind of things  we spoke about were just the tip of the iceberg of issues I wanted to talk about. But you only have one hour sometimes! I was really glad to be able to bring up the way men have been spoken to in the ‘fake geek girl’ debate, about people raising children to be the next generation of gamer girls, and about pushing back in unhealthy/uncomfortable situations for women in game teams. There was only so much time and so much we each could have spoken about from our particular specialties, but I think it was a great start. And it will be just a start, because there’s plenty of other opportunities for conversation.

Meanwhile, back at home, there’s more game design though to be done. So I’m back into writing and doing work. PaxEast, was a pleasure, hope to see you next year.

Tap Into Your Inner Wolf (Or Whatever You Roleplay)

I’m going to talk today about my hat. And stick with me folks, I’m going somewhere with this.

People have asked me why I wear the same black hat all the time. My fedora has a story. And I’m going to share it today. Stick with me, promise. It has a point.

For anyone who reads my work on here or is familiar with me in general? You know I’m an avid role-player. I’ve been gaming since I was in high school. I role-played Marvel Super Heroes online for ten years with the same community before I played D&D in college and then switched primarily to LARPing in White Wolf games in the NYU area. After that I picked up games like Dresden Files RPG and other FATE stuff as well as branching out into other RPG’s and haven’t looked back. I think I can conservatively say that one time in high school I was playing over forty characters. Sure, they were pretty crappy (I was a high school girl who learned everything from TV, books and comics – I was way way embarrassing) but they were creations of the inside of my head.

Some of them survived until today. Some have survived because they express great character ideas that I want to develop into things elsewhere perhaps (in writing for example). Some just survive in different incarnations because I enjoy playing them in different games. They give me a place to explore parts of my personality, to have a different persona to explore new environments and to stretch out parts of myself that I don’t get to touch very often. What I realized over the years is that those characters I’ve been playing have given me a voice into aspects of myself that I sometimes need to dig deep to find.

I’ll give you an example. There’s an old character of mine that I’ve reincarnated a bunch of times. And I swear this is going to become a ‘Let Me Tell You About My Character’ post – I ain’t that girl. But this character is every impulse-control problem, rough as hell, follow your heart and maybe not your head part of me. But what she also is is fearless. And when the anxiety creeps up on me and I’m having trouble finding my way out? I reach in and ask myself one question: WWTD (What Would Taj Do?). And then I filter out the murderous parts and find the fearless answer.

And y’know what? I get a big ol’ toothy grin and get to work.

In tough times it’s been a great boon to be able to reach into myself and say “I played a kickass female with no fear at all in the face of adversity” when faced with the fear of the every day life. As a technique, therapists are known to use roleplaying to allow a person a safe space to explore parts of themselves. I just had the mechanism to do that as a gift in my hobby and when I need it, I can unpack the tools I’ve learned from roleplaying to help me through the most difficult places.

Me playing Elizabeth Redstone Hall, Psionic Pureblood, in Dystopia Rising October 2011 - 24 hours before permanent character death.
Me playing Elizabeth Redstone Hall, Psionic Pureblood, in Dystopia Rising October 2011 – 24 hours before permanent character death.

And that’s where my hat comes in. I bought my hat as part of my costume for a character in the Dystopia Rising universe. My character was a rich little girl who ran away to start her life when I was just starting over with a new group of friends in the DR community. Her hat was bought when she just started feeling more… sure of herself in life. I wore it for one game and felt like a rock star in character that game. I came home then after the weekend to my weekly grind of retail work and it’s stress. I faced down going to work in the post-high of a great LARP weekend to face the regular world and it’s worries and I felt uninspired. How can you live in the skin of someone in the post-apocalypse for a weekend and then not find the daily grind a little duller, a little more grey?

On impulse, on my way out the door, I put on my hat that I wore as Elizabeth in game and wore it to work. And throughout the day, I found myself squaring my shoulders and realizing ‘if I could face down the physical challenges of the fake zombie apocalypse, then I could face this difficulty or anything else’. I found myself reminded of how lucky I was about my regular life with it’s conveniences and lack of murderous zombies. But more than that, I remembered that I have the power in me to channel the power I found in Elizabeth into my everyday.

That was two years back. I never stopped wearing the hat, even after the character permanently died in October of 2011. I’ve replaced the hat three times for destroying it repeatedly – and woe is me when the Hard Rock Cafe discontinues the damn thing. But I’ve found the power on days – like today – when I face fears of a great future that my hat has become almost a talisman for the ways in which I never imagined I could be stronger than I am.

Why am I sharing this? Just to say this really:

In your darkest places, may you find a talisman to show you the way to the strongest parts of yourself. No matter what it is.

Follow Up To Wind Tunnel Talking, And Much Thanks

A week or so ago I put up a post about the ongoing battle to seek treatment with my bipolar symptoms. Well, today is kind of a follow-up post to that. First, I want to say it’s been a privilege to have had such amazing, positive feedback from people about that post. On Twitter, here on WordPress and on Facebook – as well as in person – people reached out to share their own stories with me about what they’re going through, either in small part or in detail. A few people even thanked me for saying what I said! I can’t help but be humbled by that kind of response. The nigh on terror I felt about posting up that much personal information and the vulnerability it required of me was rewarded brilliantly by people both professionally and personally so far, and I want to thank everyone who read and reached out. It’s been a bolster in a rough week.

And it has been a rough one. The last week has proven that my ups and downs don’t seem to be done fluctuating lately. I’ve been on the receiving end of some crazy mood swings lately, going all the way to manic and then back down again into depression. Mostly I’ve been skating upwards on mania that has had me nervous for the last week. But thanks to checking in with friends and keeping an eye on myself, I’m in a much less shaky place than I was before.

It also helps that I reached out to the medical facilities at NYU and spoke to some wonderful people. As of today, I’m officially attempting medication for my condition for the first time in years. The doctor I spoke to was wonderful, caring, and considerate of my concerns about side effects from medication. My concerns stemmed from the last time I tried medication, I was unable to concentrate on work while on the pills. I wasn’t overly emotional but I wasn’t exactly doing well either because I found I couldn’t write. I couldn’t reach the place where my creative inspiration came from. So it became a question of doing my work, the work that fulfilled me, or being ‘even’. We’ll see now what happens but it became clear that a change was necessary.

And I will say that, so far, it hasn’t impacted my relationships very badly. I had one instance of someone being unable to deal with my manic energy that felt rebuffing, but I realized I can also be overwhelming when I’m that way. It isn’t that person’s fault, I realized, and moved past it. With the changes I’m making, I hope I won’t always be that way.

I came across a song recently that reminded me of my life recently. It might be about alcohol use but the terminology Pink uses in her song ‘Sober’ is very similar to the ways I have felt while on a manic jag. Check it out:

From now, I’m looking for something a little more even than this. While still being able to feel emotions and work on my writing and be the person I want to be. I’m still groping in the dark to find the way to that place. But therapy once a week and medication and consultations with a reasonable doctor and good friends – all these things can bring me where I need to be. So I suppose I just want to add: thank you for reading this and sticking around. Let’s see what awesomeness I can create while getting my head on straight.

Sharing Dreams In The Dark: Aurora Colorado Shooting Response

I started off today thinking I would sit down to work on various writing projects. I had a blog post planned about organizing one’s thoughts and some flash fiction to post. Those might go up later. Instead, I want to discuss something that happened early this morning that the world woke up hearing about. While lots of folks were snug in their beds, fans across the country were going out to midnight showings of The Dark Knight Rises. In Colorado, some of those fans aren’t going home again.

It’s no surprise to me that the event caught such media-wide attention. A massacre at a blockbuster film premiere will catch the world’s attention. What amazed me instead was the responses people have had. Overwhelmingly, I have seen an outpouring of thoughts and prayers for those injured and deceased, as well as to the families of those affected by the events in Aurora, Colorado. But there have also been the negative responses. Here are some of my favorites:

“Well, if we had more gun control in this country…”
“Well if we had less gun control in this country…”
“Well it’s the fault of (insert political/religious fall-guy here).”

But here was the one that got me the most. And you’ll forgive me if I paraphrase.

“Well, why should I care about something that happened across the country? Bad things happen here all the time! You don’t see me sitting around getting all musty-eyed about bad things here, I’d be depressed all the time! Don’t forget, people get shot in (insert local community) and you don’t see people getting so upset when that happens! This is just because it’s a big media event that people care.”

No. And no. And no.

This isn’t about it being big media. Or local crime. This isn’t about modern cynicism or jaded attempts to distance one’s self from tragedy. This is about one thing only: the following sentence, which has followed me all day.

Last night, people walked into a movie theater to watch Batman save Gotham from evil and died in the darkness there.

It’s no secret today that this whole tragedy has caught me in a way I didn’t expect. Perhaps it’s because, growing up, theaters were a place to get away for a little while from the things that were bothering me. Perhaps its because, while those people were across the country dying in a theater, I was on my way home from my own midnight showing where I was lucky enough not to be menaced by a madman with a gun and where instead I had a lovely evening with my friends. Perhaps its because the idea that someone would go into a Batman movie with a gun feels oddly more horrifying and violating to me. But this entire event has me shaken and the answer of ‘why should I care, it’s not in my hometown’ has me worse than boggled. It has me horrified.

I’m a media girl, there’s no question about that. I believe in the power of cinema and the written word and the visual arts to bring light to places that are dark, to spin ideas into words that can spark understanding in the mind and hope in the heart. Special and dear to my heart are comic books and their heroes, a pantheon of characters that stand almost inviolate in their presentation of higher ideals and ethical idealism. There are few constants in this world as universal as the Big S on Superman’s chest and the fact that as long as there’s a Gotham being written in comics, there’s a masked man named Batman out to protect it’s people. Comics spawn larger than life guardians that, sadly, this world could use in the everyday. Yet generations have grown up inspired by their stories to try and be better, do better, in the image of their fictional heroes. Up on the silver screen, their stories have reached wider audiences than ever before with their messages of justice, equality and integrity.

And some madman with a gun violated that last night when he walked into that theater.

Maybe I’m an idealist. Maybe I put too much stock in comic book heroes and the impact they have on people. But I am not afraid to admit that I was one of those kids growing up with my head in a comic book. I went to see Superman in theaters and marveled at the idea that in these stories, people stood for truth and justice in a big way. I know that I read comic books and dreamed bigger because of the stories presented there. And in my mind, I keep thinking about a kid who might have gone last night to a theater to share in that idealism and who might not be returning home. There is a violation in the destruction of that illusion in the darkness, that safe social construct shared in a theater by those who come to enjoy the dreams on screen.

And it makes me sad and furious.

I have no problem feeling for people who are a thousand miles away who died for no reason last night. In my own city or across the world, they are gone and they were out doing something that celebrates our ability to dream in big pictures and big ways.

My wishes for a full recovery for those wounded and my thoughts to those whose lives were lost. I’m sorry someone couldn’t find it in themselves to share the dream.

Word Count Reached- Work Not Done

As of 10pm tonight, November 24th, I hit word count for my 2010 NaNo. The project I’m calling ‘Prisoner Sixty-Three’ is by no means done but the minimum word count is done and I am damn pleased.

I am also aching. I realize the joke about writers not taking care of themselves doesn’t just extend to not eating right, not sleeping, drinking to excess or drug use. Hell those are dangerous but does anyone preach about the dangers of forgetting to get up and leave the computer every once in a while? The back aches, the muscle tension, the neck cramps, the eye strain, the carpel tunnel!

I sound like a whiny old woman but I am singing the praises of weary joints today! Lots of typing and forgetting to stand up and stretch make me hurt. But man who wants to interrupt the muse while we’re doing our thing…?

There is still more work to be done on this story- I stopped mid-chapter tonight to save my eyes the damn strain but otherwise this story has more coming!

And so it begins – or NaNo is BACK

So I can’t say that I’ve been jumping up and down on this blog lately, but I’ve had a hell of a time with writing this past year. So many reasons why, nothing I want to write about right now, but let’s just say… it’s been a hell of a thing. So I’ve had nothing to update! Which has sucked because I missed blogging too 🙂

But now, there is a time-honored tradition which must be obeyed and that tradition has come around again. The great month of November is here and that giant maw of writing has opened again for me to put my foot in… yes, folks. It’s time for NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. 50,000 words in one month and I’m at it again. So today began the madness and after one day I am on 4060 words. Not bad for a bad start.

That’s right, what a crap start I had. I don’t even know if I like the place my novel started, but at least its begun. I had a project I wanted to take on, a character-driven experimental piece that had brewing in the back of my head, and I’m trying to kick it out. More about it as it develops but as I was out sick today from work, I thought I would get a whole lot of writing done. Turns out instead that the less structure I have on a day, the less I actually get done with my fool self. So what did I actually do but a lot of nothing until 10PM. And then at 10PM? 4060 words.

The project has a tentative name so far. “Prisoner Sixy-Three is Missing” is the name. It’s kind of tentative naming. But it’s underway. Yaaaaay NaNo! To all those joining me in the madness – let’s get cracking.

Taking creative criticism (or: ouch)

Opening yourself up to criticism sucks. It’s the bread and butter of the creative industry however and you’ve got to get used to it if you’re going to do anything creative. Eventually, someone is going to tell you that your stuff is just not that good. Someone, probably more than one someone, is going to come out and say that your stuff stinks or that it’s just not that great or it needs lots of work, ect. The question is, how do you take it? The criticism gets harder the more you care about that person’s opinion.

I have a friend of mine whose opinion I respect quite a lot. He’s a published author who has sort of taken me on as a little bit of a padawan (for you star war’s geeks) or an apprentice, and has been giving me encouragement and advice about my writing. So I bit the big one and sent him one of my stories, which I considered one of my best, called The Castle on Jasper Hill and I waited to see what he had to say.

It… wasn’t entirely encouraging.

He said it was “cute” the mistakes I was making, which were rookie and reminded him a lot of mistakes he made when he was my age. He said that I had a lot of fat trimming to do and started pointing out ways for me to do it. I think it was the cute part that had me bristling like mad. Here I thought that it was one of the best works I’d done and… I wasn’t encouraged a little by the process.

Then I sat back and started thinking about it and realized it was time to toughen up my skin. I had been spending so much time trying to kick my anemic writing discipline into shape that I’d kept myself away from real criticism. I’d gone to classes where people didn’t really pitch much by way of harsh criticism in my direction. And if they did, I really didn’t care much about their opinion. Here was someone whose opinion I did care about, and I nearly ran in the other direction? It was time to thicken up a little bit.

This friend of mine and I are going to sit down over coffee to talk it over and so I can get a better idea of what he liked, what didn’t work, ect. Meanwhile, he gave me an idea of some things to work on, like how to trim the fat on my work. But I think a major thing I got out of this situation was that creative criticism is going to SUCK and it’s going to kick me in the gut every time. So if I want to get to the point where I’ll see my name on a book, published, then I’m going to have to learn and step up my game. And the only way to do that is to take what criticism is given and not balk.

Doesn’t mean it won’t smart like hell, of course. But that’s just part of the game.

Oh my aching everything

Okay. So writing is easier when life doesn’t suck so much.

I’m going to be super-brief. Lost my living situation. Have to move back in with the parentals because of financial woe. And what do I do on the night this all kicks off? After a horrid week and the realization that life does NOT want to go the right way?

I finish my first one-act play. I think I’m done. Well, maybe not. But the first act of a play entitled “Attica’s Bones” is done. And I do this after working ten hours on house-cleaning. I apparently got my Wheaties this morning.

Now I’m going to fall down tho. Done for the day.

Back in the saddle, baby! (Or, how a writer got her groove back)

Oh yes, when the muse comes back she’s dancing a jig!

Well, let’s not say that the muse came roaring back with such a ferocity this time. More like I invited her in, plied her with alcohol and fine chocolates and wooed her ass into staying. I did my damnedest to get the damn creative muse back into my backyard and guess what? It’s back!

…..okay, I’m way too exuberant about this. Let’s take it from the top.

From my last post, you saw that I was having some problems with writing. The fact is, it was more like I was having problems with life and the writing was just a symptom of a MUCH larger problem. My health has not been so spectacular this year – in fact, it’s been the worst it’s ever been. After that, I was trying to carry WAY too much work on my shoulders lately, between full time schedule at work, my coarse load at college while I try to graduate, and running role-play games. All in all, after I completed the major gaming project that was running a game at I-CON 2010, my brain was FRIED. After that, I got sick AGAIN, had some time off to spend time with friends, and then found out I had to go find another place to live pretty quickly.

All in all, I was moody, upset, depressed, and stressed to the point of nutball-soup. How the hell was I supposed to write anything except the words ‘helphelphelphelp’ over and over again? That’s not a very good place to be writing from and I knew it. So I was waiting for things to calm down again. More like I was waiting for me to get a handle on things again.

The truth is, life hasn’t calmed down. Life is still crazy. I’m six weeks to graduation and six weeks to the kick-off of the major Live Action Role-Play game that me and my friends are running. There are friend troubles, not enough time for work, I’m still getting sick, and my moods have been ALL over the place. Money troubles, work troubles, school troubles – you name it. And you know what I realized?

Pardon my language but F*** this, it’s time to get back to work.

See the fact is, things are never going to be calm. I can certainly work on calming down them down soon, getting my life in order, getting a handle on things – and that is my damn priority from now on because one cannot live like this much longer – but that isn’t going to mean that stress is going to miraculously disappear. So it’s time to get serious: either I’m a writer through thick and thin or I’m just a whiny hack who can’t make things happen when they need to happen. That’s what separates someone who is a writer from someone who just thinks they are – making it happen no matter what.

I got back on the horse on the 23rd despite having a WICKED migraine and bad stomach day. The sickness continued into the 24th and into today, the 25th but in those days? I wrote 56 pages of a new manuscript and my word count stands today at 12,965 words. It has no name yet, but it’s something and I’m really liking it. It’s simple, it’s fun, and it’s inspired by my favorite authors: Gaiman, King, Pullman, Lewis. It’s what I’ve been thinking about writing since I was eleven years old, a concept that has floated in my mind since then and it’s honest. My main character is down to earth and fun, and it is what I feel like writing right now.

I’m also going to be picking up a short story that I’ve almost finished and knocking it out, called The Bunny Grinned and submit that for a contest by the end of this week. I’m also working up some of my poetry for submission for extra credit in class. And this is on top of catching up on about six weeks of homework I’m behind in another class and going to work and working for the LARP I’m going to help run. And why? Because that’s what a writer does. A writer makes it happen no matter what. If I’m going to make this work, then I’ve got to deliver and it’s got to come from a place of no fear anymore.

So here we go. Back in the saddle. The muse can take the spare room cuz she’s going to be dropping by for a while, if I have anything to say about it.