The Fan Letter I’ll Never Send to Stephen King

Posted on April 18, 2013 by clubfredbaja

Why will I never send this letter? First, because I feel weird about “fan” stuff. I’ve never written a fan letter to anyone in my entire life. Whatever illusions I had about the mystique of celebrities was soundly beaten out of me during my ten year stint in the film business. Second, (and maybe this is the bigger reason), I hate the thought of my heartfelt words being vetted by an assistant or an employee, and then maybe being passed on to the intended recipient…or not. A form letter response would depress me and make me wish that I’d never bothered. Not to suggest Mr. King would pass off fan mail to an employee, but I’m guessing he gets an awful lot of it.

Yes, I’m posting this publicly but, let’s be honest, the chances of Stephen King ever seeing this blog post are about the same as the chances of the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup.

So, here it is…

Dear Mr. King,

Let me start by saying that I don’t want to make you feel old but the first time I read one of your books I was fourteen. The book was Christine and I loved it, even if a boy in my English class would say, “Christine, pure evil”, every time I walked by. My name is spelled Kristene, but pronounced like Christine, and that is what passed for humour among teen boys, go figure.

Christine was the start of my teen love-affair-bordering-on-mild-obsession with your writing. I was a voracious reader and you could not produce books fast enough for me, which meant I read the ones I owned until the covers fell off. As I recall, I wrote a book report on Different Seasons, which remains one of my all-time favourites. Back in junior high, I didn’t know your writing was trudging, cliché, repetitive, or lowbrow, I just loved how you wrote about characters I felt I knew and kept me turning pages at the speed of light. There’s something to be said about ignorance and bliss, isn’t there?

I arrived at university with the goal of becoming a highschool teacher and, perhaps one day, a famous novelist just like you! It didn’t take me long to figure out that if I wanted to be taken seriously among my peers in my English courses your name should never pass my lips. (Unless it was followed by the words trudging, cliché, repetitive, or lowbrow). I studied Chekov, Atwood, Shakespeare, and other “real” writers. I liked some of their stories, though I pretended to like them far more than I really did. I pretended to understand the symbolism of the bureau in The Cherry Orchard. I tried to emulate the styles of “real” writers in my own work. I was bored and frustrated. I eventually dropped out – conveniently, at the same time the university suggested I should leave.

Well, you can take the girl out of the university but you can’t take the university out of the girl. Publicly, I continued to read Great Works of Literary Fiction. Privately, I read The Stand, The Tommyknockers, Misery. I worked a crappy, early morning shift at a fitness club for awhile and snuck in pages of IT during those long, dark, spells when there was nothing to do but stare at the two crazies on the treadmill at 5:30am. That, by the way, is the first time I ever read a novel that actually scared me so badly I was afraid to turn the next page.

My mom died of cancer when I was 28. It was the first time I’d ever seen a dead body and it made me remember the scene in “The Body”, the one where those kids found the young boy who’d been struck and killed by a train. Great works of Literary Fiction talk about death a lot but none of them came as close to my own experience as your story – that odd sense of detachment and reverence. The realization that my childhood was well and truly over.

I almost gave up books and writing entirely for awhile, even yours. In one of those weird took the road less traveled by moments, I decided to become a stuntwoman. The gym was my new home. When I wasn’t at the gym, I was on set, or doing some other kind of stunt training, or eating carrots and Hydroxycut pills so I could double anorexic actresses. It was a pretty exciting job, (far more fun than trying to understand the symbolism of bureaus), and guess what?  I actually got to work on the film version of Dreamcatcher. Not one of the better adaptations of your novels, sorry, but we all had a good laugh at the “shit weasels”.

My husband was a stuntman, too. He doesn’t read much fiction, and I don’t think he’s ever understood why I do, but he’s never made me feel bad about admiring your work. This says a lot about the kind of man he is and why I’ve always known we would be lifers.

After going walkabout in 2003, I returned to my once-voracious reading habits and now I had a laptop to write on. (Wow, I wish we’d had those when I was fourteen.) I started writing in earnest. A year later, I announced that I was going to try and make a living at this writing thing, at long last. I was terrified, mostly that someone would figure out what a huge fraud I was. After all, I didn’t have a college or university degree, I still didn’t know what the bureau in The Cherry Orchard meant, and I had a box full of Stephen King novels hidden away. How could anyone take me seriously?

I joined a writing group. I asked if there were any books about writing I should read. Someone said I should pick up a copy of On Writing. I did.

I have read On Writing so many times, and have dog-eared so many pages, the poor thing is falling to pieces. The snippets of your life were as fascinating as any of your novels, and your practical advice about the craft of writing was spot on. It’s still the only how-to book I recommend to every new writer. But, most of all, you gave me permission to write what I wanted to write, the way I wanted to write it. My one and only attempt at a Great Work of Literary Fiction got stuffed in a drawer. Now I write about inter-dimensional pirates and women with gills.

I don’t have a lot of heroes but you’re one of them, Mr. King. If for no other reason than because you do what you love no matter what anyone else thinks of it. Oh, did I mention I indie published my first novel? Well, I and my writing partner, Josh, indie published our first novel. We followed the traditional route first—got a good agent, watched the manuscript go out to all the big publishers, read the very complimentary rejection letters. After that, we decided to do it ourselves. I like to think we did it right but there’s still that giant stigma around self publishing that hovers over my shoulder. Do I have to tell you how cool it was to read that you were going to self publish The Plant online? You, of all people. You! You can be accused of many things, Mr. King, but the need for vanity press publishing is not among them.

Look, not all your books are great, and you know that. So do I. And, okay, maybe you’re a bit repetitive sometimes. None of that has stopped me from reading and loving your books, and it never will. I read them in public now, by the way. I no longer qualify my appetite for genre fiction with statements like, “I know lots of people think Stephen King isn’t really great fiction but…”. Your books are out of the box and sitting on my bookshelf. After 30 years, I’m proud to call myself a Constant Reader.

Thanks for everything and please don’t stop writing.

Your fan,

Kristene Perron

Posted in On Scribbling | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

She Was Asking For It

Posted on April 4, 2013 by clubfredbaja

“Don’t present yourself as a victim.”

Those are the words we used to tell the students who came to women’s self defense classes at our Karate dojo. I was one of the instructors, I felt good about what I was doing. Some of the women who took these short courses had been raped or assaulted; others knew women who had suffered the same. They were all afraid. They all wanted to learn how to be a little less defenseless against men who would harm them.

We taught these women simple moves to escape from an attacker. We taught them how to break out of wrist and throat grabs. We taught them to shout NO! We taught them to walk with their head high, look confident, and watch their surroundings – predators look for weakness. But the best lesson we taught may have been that if they found themselves in a bad situation and they didn’t fight back, if they just endured, it was not their fault and they should never feel guilty.

“Don’t present yourself as a victim.”

The problem with that statement is the simple fact that, for women, our gender will always present us as victims, all over the globe. No amount of head-high walking and ju-jitsu moves will change that.

Not too long ago, I wrote a post asking if we in North America still needed feminism. I felt pretty smug about my position as “an equalist”. Let me state for the record: I’m an idiot. A naïve idiot.

When I read about the Steubenville rape case, I was not shocked. A very drunk girl and two young men who dragged her around, using her as their personal plaything, to the delight of their peers? Disgusting but probably more common than most people imagine. The cover up by the adults of the town was equally reprehensible. But that didn’t shock me so much, either, given the power of football culture in that part of the world.

The killing blow to my idiotic “equalist” philosophy came when I found a Tumblr Public Shaming website posting screen capture shots of tweets about this incident. In tweet after tweet, the girl victim was blamed and the boy perpetrators were held up as poor kids who had made an unfortunate mistake.

It got worse.

Further digging uncovered a trove of these victim-blaming tweets in other sexual assault cases. In one, the victim was a 13 year old girl and the accused were a pair of 18 year old football players. Here’s a small sampling of some the comments floating around out there about teen rape victims:

I want to know why there’s no punishment for young hoes. AMEN. Fuck these little hoe asses.

If you chose to sit there and get bullied stand the fuck up, it’s no one’s fault but yours. It’s 2013 no one has sympathy.

Girl is a victim? Even her best friend said she was a slut and asking for it.

If she was so religious, where were her morals? In the row of girls in the photo, she was the only one showing her stomach. #slut.

I could go on, but I can’t look at any more of that bile. The worst part, the part that makes me weary? All of those tweets I quoted above were written by women.

I’m going to come back to this.

Every female is born into battle. Where we’re born will determine the size of our personal war, but all of us come into the world with a fight waiting.

Depending on where we’re born, we might:

  •         Have our genitals mutilated
  •         Be denied birth control, abortion, or any kind of sexual education
  •         Be sold into sexual slavery
  •         Be denied a voice – the right to vote or hold any kind of position of power
  •         Not make as much money as our male counterparts for doing the same job
  •         Be stoned to death for being raped
  •         Not be allowed to go to school, drive a car, show our faces
  •         Suffer torture, harassment, or death at the hands of inlaws seeking a higher dowry
  •         Be murdered or abandoned at birth because females are not as valuable as males

This is our reality, the reality of women in 2013. Some places are better than others but nowhere are we even close to equal. Even in the supposedly enlightened first world, the idea persists of women as lesser beings, inherently wicked (see: Eve), fundamentally weak and flawed. Here, we can’t throw stones at rape victims, so we throw words.

In the Steubenville case, what if the victim had been a young boy, dressed in his sexiest clothes (whatever that means to teen boys), and very drunk? What if he had been falling all over a couple of female athletes who took advantage of his intoxication? What if they’d paraded him around, encouraged others to piss on him, hauled him into a basement and shoved their fingers up his ass, all while he was passed out? What if no one stepped in to help? What if, instead, his humiliation and degradation was shared all over Facebook and Twitter?

If that case went to court, would anyone care how he was dressed? Would they say “he asked for it”? No. Only females must answer to their virtue and justify their appearance. Only females must prove they did not “ask” to be sexually assaulted.

You doubt me? In 2010, 14 men in Liberty, Texas were accused of gang raping an 11 year old girl. Quote from the New York Times about the rape case: “They said she dressed older than her age.” I’ve tried to imagine someone saying that if the victim were a boy. I can’t. Because it would never happen.

We all make mistakes, especially in our younger years. Most of you reading this have made at least one doozy. I’ve made more than one. Hopefully, the worst consequences you suffered were a hangover and maybe a bit of vomit to wash out of your clothes. But here’s the thing: getting really drunk is a mistake, rape is not. Rape is a crime. It’s a crime of power, not sex, but most of all, it is a crime. Period. The onus is not on the victim to prove his/her morals. The only responsibility he/she has is to prove that he/she was sexually assaulted, according to the legal definition.

Women, the battle for equality is far from over and here’s the sad truth: If we, the victims, can’t stand together, the war will never end.

I am tired of living in a world where women need to learn how to defend themselves against men. I am tired of seeing those old labels, whore and slut, used as a means to shift responsibility away from men who commit crimes against us. I am tired of religions that use ancient texts to justify hatred or violence against women. I am tired of knowing that, even in a place where I am still not equal, I am one of the lucky ones.

That girl in Steubenville, as reckless as you may think she was, could be your daughter, your niece, your friend, your sister, your mother, your aunt, your grandmother. She could be you. Remember that the next time you want to hurl a stone.

One of the lessons we taught in the women’s self defense class has turned out to be mostly useless: stick together. In reality, your chance of getting raped by a stranger is pretty low. The vast majority of sexual assaults are committed by someone the victim knows. And being in a crowd certainly didn’t help that young girl in Steubenville.

However, when it comes to the fight for equality, I believe that lesson is the best one we women can learn. Stick together.

I hope one day we have justice for all women. And may they say of me, and of all of us, “Well, she asked for it.”

Some facts about violence against women, from UN Women: http://www.endvawnow.org/en/articles/299-fast-facts-statistics-on-violence-against-women-and-girls-.html

Some myths about rape from WAVAW: http://www.wavaw.ca/mythbusting/rape-myths/

Until next time, I hope this finds you healthy, happy and lovin’ life…whether you’re a man or woman.

Posted in News and politics, Women's Issues | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

What I Read On My Winter Vacation

Posted on March 29, 2013 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from Home!

Happy Chocolate Bunny Holiday, Nutters. I hope you’re all enjoying the start of spring and the return of that bright shiny thing in the sky. If you watched the video of my recent Baja adventure, in the last Coconut Chronicle, you may think that I spent all of my vacation hiking, fishing, making funny faces, and eating tacos. Yes, I did these things, but I also did something less video-worthy… I read.

In the three-plus years that Josh and I have been working on Warpworld (book two, Wasteland Renegades will be ready soon!), my reading time has suffered. Oh sure, I still make a point of getting some books under my belt but I’ve been more of a small sip reader, as opposed to the infinitely more enjoyable big gulp reading I used to do.

This is all a very long set up for a cool project I set up for myself on this vacation. You see, in 2012, I was accepted as a member in SF Canada, an organization of speculative fiction professionals here in Canuckistan. This rag tag fleet of fugitives made me feel immediately welcome and I wanted to get to know them all better. And, by “getting to know them”, I mean, getting to know their work. I sent out a general email, asking the group to give me one title of theirs, (story, book, or poem), that they thought I should read. I got back a list that will take me about a year to read. From that list, however, I and my budget chose about ten selections from different genres to upload to my new Kindle.

Have I mentioned I am now an ereader convert? All hail the mighty pixel!

Kindle in hand, I headed south, ready for long stretches of big gulp reading. While I didn’t get through as many titles as I’d hoped, (there was an awful lot of hiking and taco eating going on, and I might have slipped in a non-SF Canada read or two), I enjoyed everything I read. I’ll be posting longer reviews on Goodreads and Amazon, but here’s a sampling for you!

Trooper #4 by Noah JD Chinn

Existential thrill ride!

Trooper #4 by Noah JD Chinn

It’s almost impossible to tell you about this story without giving away all the surprises that make it worth reading. However, in my Goodreads review, I called it “a genre-bending existential thrill ride“, so if that doesn’t get you excited then I don’t know what will. This starts out as your typical end-of-the-world zombie fest, and ends up as something else entirely. The protagonist, T. Felice is tough, funny, and the perfect tour guide through a world turned sideways and upside down.

Chinn’s writing is economical and effective, the pace is fast, and the story is gripping. Trooper #4 has all the elements of a classic action story—compelling hero, evil villain, a world in need of saving—but with enough metaphysical twists and turns to feed every reader’s inner philosopher.

Redshirts meets The Walking Dead? Close.

Honest notes: If you’re an impatient reader, the first few chapters may not grab your interest. Hang in there, it’s worth it, and you’ll understand the reason for those first chapters later on.

Highlights: Plot twists that sucker-punch you. Cliches that know they’re cliches and are really funny because they know they’re cliches. Philosophy where you least expect it. Laugh out loud moments.

The Courtesan Prince by Lynda Williams

Sex, swords and faster-than-light travel!

The Courtesan Prince by Lynda Williams

This is the first in a ten book series. (Yes, ten! And I complain about the work involved in five?) I will be reading more. I’m going to focus on this book, but for more information on the series check out the Okal Rel universe.

Set in a future of inter-stellar space travel and abandoned earth colonies, The Courtesan Prince is a space opera of the best variety. Adventure, romance, sword fights, sex (tee hee), FTL travel, politics, culture clashes, this book has it all. The story centers around two distinct civilizations, Reetions and Gelacks, and four main characters. The action begins when a small group of Gelacks attempts to reestablish contact with the very distant, (and very different), Reetions, 200 years after their devastating war.

The adventure and romance are enough to keep readers interested but, for me, the heart of this story was the interaction of the two civilizations through the main characters. Ann and Ranar are Gelacks, theirs is an egalitarian world, steeped in equal parts reason and bureaucracy. Von and Di Mon belong to the mysterious Reetions, to whom ancestry is everything and whose society is bound by strict rules of conduct, (often enforced at the end of a sword).

Through these characters, Williams touches on issues of gender and social equality, personal responsibility, sexual orientation, and cultural relations. By turns, she titillates and informs, and never leaves the reader with the sense that they are being given the dreaded “message”.

Looking forward to more!

Honest notes: The prologue intimidated me. It’s nothing like the rest of the book and you could easily skip it until the end and not lose anything.

Highlights: Rich, detailed sci-fi/fantasy mash up. Compelling main characters, (especially Di Mon – I wanted more!). Homosexual relationship between two main characters, (in a homophobic society), handled really well. TENSION on every page!

The Sand Dragon by Michael F Stewart

As if the tar sands weren’t bad enough…dragons!

The Sand Dragon by Michael F Stewart

Let me just say, if I’d known this was a story about vampires, I probably wouldn’t have chosen it. So I’m glad I didn’t know. And they don’t sparkle, in case you’re wondering.

Different aspects of novels linger with me after the final page is turned (or turned off, as the case may now be). With Trooper #4 it was the crazy plot twists, with The Courtesan Prince it was the amazing world building, with The Sand Dragon, it was the setting.

The discovery of a giant pterosaur skeleton in the tar sands of Fort Mic brings paleontologist Kim Axon back to her home town, and launches a series of chilling events that will leave the small mining community fighting for survival. The story is told from multiple points of view, from which the reader is shown the various facets of Fort Mic. This is a dirty, isolated, unforgiving part of the world—an ideal setting for horror. Most Canadians have heard of the tar sands, few of us actually knows what goes on up there, which makes this tale all the more intriguing.

With an interesting mix of science and mythology, Stewart maintains a fast pace as the body count rises and the truth of what’s been hidden beneath the Fort Mic earth is gradually revealed. This is a horror story, so expect gore. Not for the squeamish!

Honest notes: This is a big story that covers a lot of ground. I would have liked more time (pages) to get to know the characters a bit better.

Highlights: Creepy setting that seems custom-made for evil. Unique vampires and back story. Twist at the very end that I never saw coming.

*I also wanted to mention that Michael is doing some very cool things with his latest project, Assured Destruction, a YA novel and transmedia adventure. Check it out!

Screan Angel by Douglas Smith

Not just angels in here.

Scream Angel by Douglas Smith

I’d actually planned on reading Chimerascope, a collection of Douglas Smith’s short stories, but Amazon decided to throw a strange hissy fit so I had to settle for just one stand-alone story. Luckily, the one I chose was amazing.

I have to confess here that I am biased. I LOVE short stories, particularly speculative fiction short stories. I have written several, one or two of which I consider ‘good’. The short story is a very difficult form to master, and probably the reason it has traditionally been used as a proving ground for fiction writers. Smith has mastered it… hold on a moment while I shake an angry, envious fist at him.

*shakes angry fist*

Scream Angel is about Jason Trelayne, a former soldier who was forcibly addicted to a drug (scream) that enabled him, and his fellow soldiers, to carry out systematic xenocide. Now, hiding on the fringes of civilization, Trelayne runs a circus populated by orphans from the same races and societies he once helped destroy or enslave. He is a haunted man, crippled by his addiction and his past. But, when he’s discovered and his circus family is threatened, Trelayne has to face who he was, who he is, and who he wants to be.

I finished this story with a giant case of writer’s envy. In a short space, Smith lays out layers of love and redemption, and forces the reader to examine how one man can be both good and evil.

Honest notes: Not a problem for me but some might find the many characters hard to follow at first.

Highlights: Creative premise that’s super scary to contemplate. Not your average love story (understatement). Plethora of themes. Questions linger long after the end.

Posted in Book reviews, Entertainment, On Scribbling | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Baja Love 2013!

Posted on March 10, 2013 by clubfredbaja

8832 kilometers

9 friends

Too many tacos to count

Posted in Baja - Mexico, Travel | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

Lit-tastic Awardsapalooza Extravaganarium 2012!

Posted on January 28, 2013 by clubfredbaja

Hello from Chez Roney!

Once again, Patty-Cakes and Martha have been kind (foolish) enough to take in the poor, the sick, the huddled masses. Or, well…us. And by sick, I do mean SICK. For those who have not been following my Facebook rants, I am one of the latest victims of the norovirus plague. If you have not had this virus yet, immediately seal yourself in a plastic bubble and do not come out until it has vanished from the earth! Go! Now! What are you waiting for?

For those infected who remain, let me tell you about the big thing I’ve been up to this year that has just recently come to an end.

In 2009, I won second place in the Kootenay Literary Competition. In 2010, I was asked to be a judge for the competition. In 2011, I was asked to join the organizing committee. And in 2012 I was asked to chair the committee. I ordinarily keep my distance from committees, volunteer or otherwise, because I know how much work they can entail, and I need to stay focused on Warpworld. This time, however, I felt I needed to step up. I have benefitted from the work of so many other volunteers in the literary community, especially in the Kootenays, how could I not give back?

It was a learning experience.

Mostly good.

But…learning.

Let’s just say I will never apply for a job as a professional grant writer. (You may recall my post, Not Enough Pie, about the lack of arts funding in BC?)

The LV Rogers Jazz Combo opens the evening!Photo: Melissa Welsh

The LV Rogers Jazz Combo opens the evening!
Photo: Melissa Welsh

Despite a very long to-do list that never ever seemed to shrink, the pieces of this event fell into place. Big plans came together. Maybe with a few bumps and shudders, but they came together. And on January 18th the Prestige Lakeside Resort in Nelson was the site of the Kootenay Literary Competition’s Awards Ceremony and Celebration!

We had no idea how many people would attend. It was winter, after all, with snow and ice and all that. In 2011 we were shocked to get just over 100 guests and I would have been content with that number again. We were in for another shock as the room started to fill…

Kari (aka my Liz Lemon Soul Sister) welcomes the unruly mobPhoto: Melissa Welsh

Kari (aka my Liz Lemon Soul Sister) welcomes the unruly mob
Photo: Melissa Welsh

and fill…

I hope we have enough cupcakes!

I hope we have enough cupcakes!

…and fill!

Forget the cupcakes, I hope we have enough chairs!

Forget the cupcakes, I hope we have enough chairs!

Shouts of “More chairs! We need more chairs!” went up and the Prestige’s crew (a million thanks to all of them) hustled to find seats for butts. I think we ended up at 210 guests – but it’s all a blur.

Kristene Perron, Kootenay Literary Competition

My mother used to cry when she saw my hair like this.
Photo: Melissa Welsh

First up at the lectern (not a podium, look it up in the dictionary or ask Anne DeGrace about the difference) was yours truly. You’ll notice my hair may look a bit pinker than usual. This was a nod to the younger, more colourful Princess, and to our young writers in the audience.

With the obligatory but heartfelt thanks out of the way I wisely handed off the emcee job to Lucas Myers, Nelson’s Cultural Ambassador for the performing arts. What? You didn’t know a tiny mountain town could have a cultural ambassador? Well, you’ve obviously never been to Nelson. Lucas is very funny, by the way, and you should totally go see his upcoming one man show CROMOLI 4 SUPREME LEADER, and, no, he didn’t pay me to write that, but if he wants to he can reach me through this blog. I have a PayPal account. Just sayin’.

Lucas Myers, Kootenay Literary Competition

Lucas Myers, who did not pay me to endorse his one-man show CROMOLI 4 SUPREME LEADER
Photo: Melissa Welsh

Speaking of heartfelt thanks, I must pause here to give mine to Melissa of MelissaWelsh Photography. At the very last minute she donated her time and talents to come out and be our personal paparazzi and all the photos you see here are hers. Thanks Melissa!

After Lucas explained to us how not to pronounce ‘gladiator’ (gla-die-a-tor is incorrect), he welcomed spoken word poet Sheri-D Wilson to the stage.

Layin' down the verbs, Sheri-D style!Photo: Melissa Welsh

Layin’ down the verbs, Sheri-D style!
Photo: Melissa Welsh

The "Mama of Dada" Sheri-D WilsonPhoto: Melissa Welsh

The “Mama of Dada” Sheri-D Wilson
Photo: Melissa Welsh

We flew Sheri-D in from Calgary on what I’ll call Murphy’s Law Airlines. One of our intrepid committee members, Wendyle, made a looooong drive to Cranbrook to fetch our headliner after the flight into nearby Castlegar was cancelled due to weather (we call it Cancel-gar for a reason apparently). Wendyle would make an even longer trek for the twice-cancelled return flight, and we all learned a valuable lesson about why it’s a bad idea to fly guests into Nelson in January.

Anyway, schedule mishaps, cancelled flights, and pulled muscles aside, Sheri-D put on a hell of a show for the appreciative crowd. A crowd of over 200, did I mention? If you think you don’t like poetry, you haven’t seen Sheri-D perform. I will forever carry the image of her as a young woman with a table tied to her back engraved on my brain!

Next up on the schedule were our young winners.

Grades 7-9 1st Place Winner - Gillian WileyPhoto: Melissa Welsh

Grades 7-9 1st Place Winner – Gillian Wiley
Photo: Melissa Welsh

I have to confess that seeing the young writers come out and get their awards is the #1 reason I took on this job. Who knows what their future will bring, but I nourish secret dreams that among the numbers might be one future novelist who will look back on this competition fondly or as, perhaps, the catalyst that convinced them to pursue their dream. Dream, young writers, dream big!

Grades 10-12 1st Place Winner - Abby CowanPhoto: Melissa Welsh

Grades 10-12 1st Place Winner – Abby Cowan
Photo: Melissa Welsh

This year we also had a new award for, ironically, a new writer. There was some behind-the-scenes chaos as we tried to figure out who should be eligible and how we would choose, and I gained enormous respect for any groups who have to do this on a regular basis, but eventually we had our winner and she fit perfectly. I don’t think there was a single happier human in that room, perhaps in all of Nelson, on January 18th, than Legends of the Forest author Darcee O’Hearn.

Richard Carver Award Winner - Darcee O'Hearn

Richard Carver Award Winner – Darcee O’Hearn
Photo: Melissa Welsh

The award was given in the name of Richard Carver. I never had the pleasure of meeting Richard but from all I learned in the research I did preparing for this award, I sure wish I had. Thankfully, I did get to meet his daughter, Jocelyn, who was an absolute sweetheart and whose impersonation of her father had the audience in stitches.

Two special people. Anne DeGrace (left) and Jocelyn Carver (right).Photo: Melissa Welsh

Two special people. Anne DeGrace (left) and Jocelyn Carver (right).
Photo: Melissa Welsh

After that, it was on to the adults. We had another fabulous array of winners this year, and it was very cool to hear from our non-fiction winner, Vera Maloff, about her Doukhobor heritage – the subject of her winning entry.

One of my favourite moments of the evening was the reading by our fiction winner, Beverly Rasporich. Each year, the adult competitors are given a theme and this year’s was “revolution”. I expected a lot of subject matter to come out of that prompt but I certainly didn’t foresee this hilarious tale of red-beret’d grannies plotting escape from an old folks home. At one point, I think I saw an entire row of people doubled over laughing. Great stuff.

1st Place Fiction Winner - Beverly Rasporich keeps us laughingPhoto: Melissa Welsh

1st Place Fiction Winner – Beverly Rasporich keeps us laughing
Photo: Melissa Welsh

I could go on and on. It really was a stellar success beyond my wildest expectations and it was really, really cool to see the spotlight shining so brightly on the oft-neglected literary arts and artists. All of my thanks have been done in person, or at the awards, or in the anthology, so if you’re reading this and feeling frowny-faced because I overlooked you, give yourself another pat on the back from me.

So, now you’re asking me, “Princess, how can I support the literary arts in my town?” Good question imaginary Internet person! Here are some ideas:

-Shop at small, independent bookstores. They’re usually the ones who help local writers the most. In Nelson, that would be Otter Books. (Hi guys!)
-Ask your librarian about local authors they recommend. Buy their books. Write reviews for them on Amazon or Goodreads – or both! Talk about local authors you like on Facebook or Twitter.
-Give works by local authors as gifts – there’s a good chance you can even get those books signed.
-Come on out to free literary events in your town. They can be pretty fun and you might even see a crazy woman with pink hair.

Oh, and you could always purchase an ebook copy of the KLC 2012 Anthology Revolution – cover design by uber-talented teen wonder Liam Barnes!

My time as a volunteer is over. I am literally burned out. Ah, the curse of the overachieving perfectionist. I need some time for sun, sand, fish tacos and fun time with Prez before I dive into the frenzy of publishing the second Warpworld novel (Wasteland Renegades, coming this spring but you can ‘like’ us on Facebook today!). But it was a terrific experience and I exceeded my quota of “cool people that I have met” for 2012 by leaps and bounds.

Also, the committee gave me a parting gift that included six gourmet cupcakes. And you know how I feel about cupcakes.

(L to R) Morty Mint, Kristene Perron, Kari Kroker, Jeff Yasinchuk, Roz Nay, Julia Gillmor, Wendyle “Put a Few More Miles On” Gillis
THANKS YOU GUYS!!!
Photo: Melissa Welsh

Until next time, and on the road south to Baja, may this find you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!
The Princess

Posted in Entertainment, Nelson - British Columbia, On Scribbling | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Little Myth Atheist

Posted on January 10, 2013 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from Home!

Those Nutters who have been around for awhile probably know I am a non-believer. Hopefully, they also know that I’m perfectly fine with believers, no matter what the belief. As long as you don’t use your religion to discriminate against others based on race, gender, sexual orientation, or what have you, I say rock on with your bad self!

But here’s the thing, I’m an atheist by definition but I call myself a “non-believer”. Mine is not an absence of belief in deities, it is an active disbelief in their existence. So why don’t I call myself an atheist? Because of public opinion, because I’m a coward. Atheists are mean, atheists are the kids who tell the other kids there’s no Santa and ruin Xmas, atheists are obnoxious, atheists think people who believe in gods are idiots. Since I’m none of those things, I don’t want to be lumped in with those people.

Except I am. An atheist, that is. And the idea of hiding behind another, less accurate, title in order to make myself more palatable and likeable has been bothering me more and more as time passes. Even so, I haven’t been able to make the leap and reclaim the title as mine.

Until I saw this…

Poor God.

Poor God.

To those who believe, you might not see why the sentiment is offensive to me and other atheists. Read between the lines. The idea expressed is that without religion, humans cannot be ethical or moral. In other words, because I do not believe in god, I am the sort of person who would gun down innocent children. See it now?

I think it’s time to talk about this…

Common Myths and Misconceptions About Atheism

1. Atheists are emotionless robots

I am sure a small percentage of atheists match that description. I am sure a small percentage of Christians, Muslims, Jews, Catholics and all other folks match that description, too. Logic has it’s place, and humans would be wise to use it more generously, but emotions play a vital role in my life, my behaviour, and my decisions. Atheists experience just as much awe and wonder as believers, just not for a deity. Bruce Lee was an atheist – does he strike you as an emotionless robot? How about Helen Keller? Do you honestly think her passion and dedication sprang from logic?

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart. ~ Helen Keller

2. Atheists want to take away my religion

Wrong. What you believe is your business and atheists have no desire to change that. Where this misconception originates from, I believe, is a real and sensible desire to remove religion from public institutions and organizations that make policy for the general public. A perfect example of this would be the gay marriage debate. As a hetersoexual atheist, I am free to sign into the legal contract of marriage but in many places a gay couple, regardless of their belief, does not have that same right. Why not? Take religion out of the equation, and marriage is simply a legal contract, one that gives each partner the rights hetero couples take for granted. If your church does not want to perform gay marriages, fine, but that’s where the authority should end. Freedom of religion? Hell yes! (Pardon the pun). But freedom of religion should not mean that religion then also gets to make the rules and take away freedom from the rest of us.

You still don’t like the idea of gay marriage? Then, as my friend the economist Julianne Malveaux says: Don’t marry a gay person. Case closed, problem solved. ~ Barbara Ehrenreich

3. Atheists are pushy

This one always cracks me up. In my 43 years, I have not once had perfect strangers show up at my door, uninvited, and ask me if they can talk to me about the wonders of not believing in god. I have never checked into a hotel room and found a book in the night table drawer explaining why I should not believe in god. I have never sat down to a meal and been asked to join hands and give thanks that no god provided this meal, it was all the work of humans. Once a year, radio stations do not play an endless stream of atheist carols joyfully pronouncing the non-existence of a deity.

For 43 years, living in a fairly tolerant and religiously conservative part of the world, I have been bombarded by belief at every turn and expected to just go along with it. Yet, when an atheist speaks up about their ideology, you would think that we all started burning churches or something. If believers want us to be quiet, then they must play by the same rules. Or how about we each get to talk? Sound fair?

Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear. ~ Thomas Jefferson

4. Atheists are the work of Satan

Yeah. Not even going to touch that one.

Why is saying there is no God considered disrespectful to believers, but saying there is a God not considered disrespectful to atheists? ~ Ricky Gervais

5. Atheists want to make me feel stupid for believing in god.

Look, some religions seem downright silly to me, I’ll admit that, (Scientology springs to mind).  But I’ll save the condescension for someone else. When atheists point out what we consider flaws in religious arguments, it is simply a means of explaining the “why” of our disbelief. Unfortunately, it is diffcult to say, “this system of belief is fundamentally flawed” without insinuating that its believers must also be flawed. If we don’t do that tactfully, at times, I’m sorry.

6. Atheists do not have morals

At last we come back to that message on the t-shirt, the one that raised my hackles. If morals and ethics are based on the degree of a person’s belief in a chosen deity or religion, by that logic priests should be the most ethical and moral people on the planet. You need only look at the Catholic church to see that’s not true. And if threat of punishment (hell) was sufficient to make people behave, then prisons would not be full. (Over 75% of the US prison population considers themselves Christian, 0.2% are atheists).

Ethics and morals come from empathy. What is empathy? It’s the ability to identify with or vicariously experience the thoughts, feelings, or attitudes of another. Empathy can be learned in a number of ways, religion often teaches it, sure, but that’s hardly the only way, or the most important way, humans develop the trait. Think about a subject on which you have changed your opinion drastically in your life time. What sparked that change? I’m willing to bet it was some kind of personal experience. I used to be very vocal about “welfare bums” in my youth, but as I grew older and came into contact with a more diverse array of people I began to see that the subject is far more complex than a bunch of bums who are just too lazy to work. That’s empathy at work. No god required.

When you say that society’s ills are a result of a lack of god, a lack of religion, what you are saying is that non-believers or atheists are bad people who cannot tell right from wrong. You are telling us that we are no different than the madman who murdered children and their teachers in cold blood at Sandy Hook.

One of the great tragedies of mankind is that morality has been hijacked by religion. ~ Arthur C. Clarke

Should we teach morals and ethics in schools? Absolutely. Do we need religion in order to teach them? Absolutely not. Love, tolerance, patience, forgiveness, atheists understand and live these virtues as well as anyone else.

I’m an atheist and I’m not going to hide behind another label anymore. I encourage all other closet atheists to do the same. We need to take back that name from the few wingnuts out there who make us look intolerant and mean. It’s time for us to show the world that lack of belief  in deities does not mean lack of compassion, lack of ethics, or lack of heart.

Until next time, I hope this finds you healthy, happy and lovin’ life…no matter what you do or don’t believe!

The Princess

Posted in News and politics | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

2012 in review

Posted on December 30, 2012 by clubfredbaja

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 2,500 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 4 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Xmas for Kelly – A Coconut Chronicles Holiday Special

Posted on December 24, 2012 by clubfredbaja

Merry Holidays from Home!

Tonight and tomorrow, scores of people will be celebrating either Christmas (Happy Birthday Jesus) or Xmas (Yay Santa Claus) or a combination of both. As I grew up in a non-religious family, we celebrated Xmas…boy did we ever! From the orgy of gifts beneath our often plastic tree, to the piles of food, to the decorations in every corner, to the jars of hard candy that required a hammer and chisel to break free, the Marrington household was a shrine to Kris Kringle.

Then, I grew older. Eventually Santa and I had a falling out. “It’s not you, it’s me,” I assured him. “I just need some space.”

You see, as an adult, I was getting sideswiped every year by the expectations of the holiday and the expectations of the credit card companies who actually thought I should pay for all the gifts I bought on their dime (gifts most recipients probably didn’t even want or need, I might add). I saw less and less magic, more and more consumer frenzy. I followed through with the spectacle every year for my mom’s sake, but after her death and my first December in Baja, Mexico, where the nearest mall was more than a full day’s drive away, I was done with the holiday for good.

“Can’t we just be friends, Santa?” I asked, knowing that was never going to happen.

These days, I might send gift cards to a small handful of family members or close friends, and that’s about the extent of my ho ho ho-ing. Prez and I usually don’t even exchange gifts. This year, my tiny budget was eaten by the costs of publishing and marketing my book, so there won’t even be gift cards. I’m OK with this, except when it comes to my sister, Kelly.

If any person alive embodies the joy of Xmas, it is Kelly. Even when I was seven and she was seventeen, she was always more excited about the day than I was, (and I was pretty excited back then). It was no surprise to be woken by Kelly, on the edge of my bed at some horrifically early hour, bouncing up and down like Tigger on amphetamines, telling me, “Get up! Santa’s been here! Let’s open our stockings. Now! NOW!!!”

Let me back up for a minute here. Just to make it clear, for those who didn’t catch the math, Kelly was ten when I arrived as a baby, adopted into the Marrington clan. By all accounts, she was as thrilled by the new arrival as the family cat was depressed by it. In fact, it was Kelly who named me. I was nearly “Georgina” after her favourite aunt at that time, but the parental units kyboshed that. “One Georgina in the family is enough,” they said. Wisely, I might add. So the name Christine was chosen. Except Kelly didn’t want it to be spelled the same as all the other Christines out there, so an ‘e’ replaced the final ‘i’. And she wanted my name to start with K because her name started with K. And so, thanks to my sister, a Kristene was born – or, at least, delivered to the door.

Despite my sister’s unabashed affection for me, ten years difference between siblings is a lot. By the time I was old enough to speak in complete sentences, she was gone most of the time, off with her teenage friends, doing mysterious teen things I was not allowed to know about. We grew up under the same roof but we lived very different lives and were very different people.

Over time, the differences between us grew. In my early twenties, my sister frustrated me. Why didn’t she do the things I did? Like the things I liked? Why couldn’t she be more like me? (Because, you see, I know what is best for everyone and all of my life choices have turned out perfectly…yeeeeees). We tried—well, she tried, mostly—at some kind of friendship but it was awkward and uncomfortable for both of us. When I looked at Kelly, all I could see was someone who was not living the life I would have chosen for her. Things came to a head about ten years ago, and we had what I think was our one and only ‘real’ argument. And then I was off to the Bahamas, supposedly forever, and I just assumed that things would remain civil but distant between us.

If you’d asked me about my sister then, I would have said, “She’s nice but we have almost nothing in common.”

But then a funny thing happened: I grew up.

Prez and my’s move to the Bahamas was not permanent, obviously. Our journey, from that day in May when we pulled out of the Cornwall Place cul de sac, has been equal parts adventurous and humbling. As plan after grand plan was toppled, I learned more about empathy in the past ten years than I had learned in the previous thirty-three. One big lesson I learned was that through all of my life, good and bad, one person has always been there, genuinely caring about me and all my craziness. That person was Kelly.

All those years I thought I was so worldly, fashionable, and clever, I suddenly realized that I was actually just kind of shallow and mean. It took wandering the globe, seeing poverty and despair, and losing just about everything I owned to finally see just how lucky I was to have my sister.

I learned that I could not only accept Kelly for exactly who she was, and not who I wanted her to be, but I could love her for that, too. Sure, she cries at the drop of a hat, but that’s only because Kelly has a gigantic heart and her life revolves around caring about the tiniest details of the people she loves. No one was more excited, or more proud of me, when my first book came off the press, than Kelly. From the day I showed up on her doorstep until today, she has loved me whether I deserved it or not. How amazing is that?

I’m always going to be who I am – more likely to crack a joke than offer words of kindness or comfort. Kelly’s always going to be who she is – a big, sentimental softie. Thank goodness, the world needs more softies. I don’t want my sister to be like me, she’s perfect just the way she is.

I think of my sister often these days, but never more so than on Dec.25th. I may not celebrate Xmas anymore but I cherish my childhood memories of the holiday, and it was Kelly’s infectious and unwavering enthusiasm that made it so special. In the last Coconut Chronicle, I spouted that all we have are experiences and all we leave are memories, so we should make sure they’re good ones. When it comes to Xmas, that’s exactly what my sister gave to me – good memories.

And that is the best gift ever.

Merry Xmas, big sister, I love you.

Now go get some Kleenex.

Trouble arrives...

Trouble arrives…

Kris and Kelly 1 Kris and Kelly 3 Kelly & Kris 3 M O

Until next time, may your days be merry and bright, and I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess

Posted in Family & Children | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

I Was Wild About Harry…and Gary

Posted on December 13, 2012 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from Home!

I have been on a rollercoaster since the last Coconut Chronicle. On the uphill ride – the book launched to lots of local fanfare. I basked in my 15 minutes of Nelson fame with newspaper articles, radio interviews, a live launch I was told “raised the bar for all book launches” and even a front page picture in the Nelson Star.

Is Nelson ready for this?

Is Nelson ready for this?

Warpworld book launch
I guess they are ready!

A far cry from some big book signing in NYC and a review in the Times, but far more meaningful, if you ask me.

Long live Queen Martha!

Long live Queen Martha!

As well, my good friend Joyce, AKA Martha, turned 60 – definitely cause for celebration! Prez and I couldn’t make it down for the big party but, knowing the Roneys, I’m sure it was a doozy. (Happy Birthday Martha! Hug, kiss, hug!!!)

On the downhill ride, my extremely stubborn father ended up in the hospital with serious respiratory problems. (He’s better now – thanks, Sean, for being equally stubborn!).

Also, in one week, I lost two very dear friends, Gary Myers and Harry Quarles, to cancer. Life sure has a way of keeping a girl humble.

Harry, or as we liked to call him, “HQ”, used to tease me that I should write the story of his life. In his southern drawl, he would say, “You can call it Autobiography of a Nobody”. But here’s the thing, Harry wasn’t a nobody. Not even close.

Our culture has come to glorify the celebrity. People now become famous for doing nothing more than marketing themselves as such. What do the Kardashian’s even do? To this day I have no idea.  Substance has lost its value. The Harry’s and Gary’s? What do they mean anymore in a world that demands a new BIG thing every second of every day.

Well, let me tell you.

Among many other wonderful qualities, both these men actually cared about others. Harry was an unrepentant chain smoker for years and I never believed he would quit. But he did – for his wife, Ruth Ann. She came home one day and found a box of nicotine patches on the coffee table. It was Harry’s birthday present to her. He followed through. He quit. Anyone who’s ever smoked knows how hard that must have been. Anyone who loves their partner knows why he made that effort.

Gary? Quite possibly one of the sweetest human beings in the world you’d ever want to meet. But no matter how soft spoken and kind, Gary was a man who believed in social justice. In the last weeks of his life, he would still take time to put up posts on Facebook encouraging US citizens to vote for the party that he believed cared most about those in need. It may seem like a small thing, but at a time when no one would blame him for being completely selfish he made the effort to do what he felt was the right thing for his country.

Two quiet, kind men who loved their wives, their friends, and their families.  Two men who would never make the front page of People magazine or become Internet phenomenons, but who enriched the lives of everyone who was fortunate enough to know them.  They were my friends, I loved them both, and I miss them every day.

So, it was nice to be on the front page of the newspaper, and fun to have complete strangers congratulate me on the book. Maybe one day I’ll make it “big” or maybe I’ll just keep quietly writing stories that a handful of people enjoy. It doesn’t matter either way. What matters is what I leave behind when I’m gone, in the hearts of those who knew me.

Like the song says, “You’re nobody ‘til somebody loves you.”

In the hustle and bustle of this holiday season, stop and take a moment to think about what really matters. Take the time to let the Harry’s and Gary’s of your life know how important they are and how much you love them.

Me and HQ. Just a couple of somebodies.

Me and HQ. Just a couple of somebodies.

All we have are experiences. All we leave are memories. Make sure they’re good ones.

Gary, Terri, Ruth-Anne, and HQ...Baja celebrities busy making memories

Gary, Terri, Ruth Ann, and HQ…Baja celebrities busy making memories

Until next time, I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life.

The Princess.

Posted in Baja - Mexico, Friends, Warpworld | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Pride and Prejudice and Publishing

Posted on November 20, 2012 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from Home!

“We’re self published”.

Why do I still cringe inwardly whenever I speak those words or whenever someone asks me why Josh and I chose that route? No amount of praise seems to take away that feeling for me.

Ask me about the story of Warpworld, the characters, the plot, the themes, the world building, and I will gush, unabashedly. Not every reader will like this book, some will hate it, but I know it’s good and I’m proud of it, and of us. But that pride vanishes at the mention of self publishing. I am seized by an urgent need to explain. I hurry to make it clear that the manuscript was good enough for a Canadian agent, and loved by a prestigious NYC agency, (who tried like heck to get it sold). The rejection letters from publishers, I will add, were all very complimentary.  I seek to make our decision to strike out on our own legitimate.

Why?

Perception

Despite all the massive changes to the publishing industry in the past few years, there remains a stigma attached to those authors who choose to publish their own work. When a bestselling tradtionally published author, such as Barry Eisler (though he would call it legacy publishing, not traditional), decides to go indie, that’s one thing. After all, he’s already proven that his work is good enough for “real” publishing. When Joe Unknown does the same thing, there’s an unspoken sense that the author’s work must somehow be sub-standard.

This leads me to my second point.

It’s too easy

Pretty much anyone can publish a book now and, from the numbers, pretty much anyone has. When Josh first suggested indie e-publishing, I jumped online and started reading…and was horrified. How could people call these collections of grammatical garbage ‘novels’? I have since found gold among the garbage, but that doesn’t change facts. There is a mountain of low (no) quality ebooks out there reinforcing the stereotype of self published novels as crap. Awesome.

We resist change

More and more authors are braving the stigma and taking control of their writing careers by self publishing. These are people who, like Josh and myself, refuse to give up just because a handful of people either didn’t like their work or didn’t feel it would sell. There are also authors who feel that if they’re going to be doing almost all of the marketing themselves, they might as well keep most of the profits, (scarce as they). Additionally, more and more readers are taking a chance on self-published authors and discovering ‘talent’ and ‘independent’ aren’t mutually exclusive.  But The System is slower to accept or integrate these changes.

In my marketing research, I’ve come across several venues that close their doors, firmly, to self published authors and their work. Sometimes this is for legitimate reasons (librarians could not possibly read and vet all the self-pubbed books sent their way), other times it’s clearly snobbery (as I suspect is the case with the author PR company that attached a large notice on their website announcing that self-published authors need not bother querying about their services).

What’s the answer?

We’re in the middle of a paradigm shift in the publishing realm. I suspect there will be a lot of panic, on both sides, until things settle and a new model emerges. Some will rant and rave, some will sling mud, some will predict the collapse of modern civilization as we know it.

Through all this chaos, writers will keep writing and readers will keep reading. Heros will be cheered, villains will be boo’d, tears will be shed and empathy engaged, movies will be made that will not be as good as the books they’re based on, pages will be dog-eared (or whatever the electronic equivalent is), and children will still dream of the worlds that books allow them to visit.

No matter how our stories are delivered to those that love them, it is our hard work and passion for the craft that should make us writers proud – not the logo on the spine of our book.

I am a self published author.

There, I said it.

With pride.

Kristene and Josh, proudly self-published!

Until next time, I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess

Posted in Indie publishing, On Scribbling | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments