Videos Found: Women in SF w/ Karen Lord, Stephanie Saulter and Naomi Foyle
They need no introduction. Enjoy!
They need no introduction. Enjoy!
A few months back, Julia Rios and I recorded a whole bunch of interviews at the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts (ICFA). One of those interviews involved a discussion about ethnic heritage and its various diversities with Mary Anne Mohanraj and Cecilia Tan, in which I lightly (and rightly) got called out for referring to my own heritage as “uninteresting” by dint of having descended from “old dead white people.” Having just edited the episode which contains this interview, I feel I should talk about this aspect in more depth, since I didn’t actually explore my heritage in the podcast in question (me being the interviewer, not the interviewee). I’ve been known to say two things about my ethnic heritage: It’s not important (see above) I’m descended from Saxon Thanes (which I usually utter in an absurd, sarcastically prideful fashion) Neither of these responses is actually fair to my history. So I should probably say something about where I come from. First, both of my biological parents were adopted. I know very little about my father’s side of the family, except that there is likely some Native American heritage there; I know considerably more about my mother’s side, in part because she became obsessed with figuring out our family tree many years ago and has pages and pages of information. On my mother’s side, I’m supposedly descended from Saxon Thanes. No joke. She traced our lineage back to the 900s. That’s pretty cool. Most of my mother’s side is French or Anglo-Saxon (or mixtures therein). There may be other European groups in there, but I haven’t dug deep enough into it. Supposedly, my family owned a huge portion of what is now Yorkshire; the Norman conquest of 1066 apparently put an end to that, but I’m not exactly sure how or why. My heritage doesn’t stop there, though. In a weird way, being the son of two adopted parents means I have a connection to a lot of different pots. For a long time, I didn’t feel like I had a right to these pots, since I’m not biologically connected. I’m not sure that’s fair to my heritage or to myself, as heritage is also cultural. My mother’s adoptive parents (i.e., my grandparents) are an interesting bunch: my grandfather was a would-be rancher / thoroughbred Yankee in the Western U.S.; my grandmother is a white South African. My father’s adoptive parents are equally interesting: on that side, my grandfather is, as far as I know, a white American (heritage unknown), but my grandmother was a Native American (I don’t know which group or the percentage, but I seem to recall she was very much rooted in her Native American heritage and was herself more NA than anything else). I still have the leather wallet she gave me when I was a kid (no idea where she got it). All of this is part of my family’s history and is actually far more interesting than “descended from old dead white people.” The more I think about this, the more I actually want to know where I come from, biologically and otherwise. There must be some interesting characters in my family’s past. I bring all of this up because I have started to wonder why I reject my heritage in such a flippant manner. Why would I deem my history as less worthy than others’? Why would I make fun of it when it, in some ways, defines who I am? I can’t put my finger on the reasons. The truth is that I probably discount this heritage because of my own insecurities, which seem derived from my past and not from anything happening now. And that’s got to stop. My history matters. My family’s history matters. Anywho.
I only need to raise $150 more in my Worldcon fundraiser, and then I’ve got every penny I need to make my stay in London reasonable. First, I want to thank everyone who has supported me in this endeavor thus far. You are all amazingly awesome. There are lots of Milestone Perks waiting to be fulfilled at the moment (some take longer than others because they involve recording stuff). I’ll get those fulfilled this summer (preferably this month, where possible). Second, I have decided to make things a little…interesting. Since $150 isn’t that much money, and I want to get this done ASAP, I’m running a little last minute Milestone Perk addon: If my Worldcon fundraiser finishes by Monday, May 27th, Mike Underwood and I will record our special readings of classic works of literature/philosophy as Kermit and Yoda (respectively) LIVE. We may even stay in character the whole time. We may even have a conversation as Kermit and Yoda. We may even do it on video via Google+. We may even wear homemade costumes. (By “may” I mean “pretty much going to do it unless we can’t for some reason”). Right now, it looks like I’m reading Nietzche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra. I’m not sure what Mike is reading yet, but I did see someone suggest The Candide. Obviously, these will be excerpt readings, as Nietzche’s book is so long that my voicebox would probably explode if I tried to do the whole thing in one go. So if that’s not incentive to donate $10 and convince your friends to do so, too, I don’t know what is! Now get to it. You’ve got three-and-a-half days!
For you fans of Blake’s 7. Part One: Part Two: Part Three: Enjoy!
There seems to be a contingent of fandom that takes pleasure in any perceived disorder in the Hugo Awards. They themselves love sf/f, often because they write in the genre themselves, but when it comes to one of the most important awards, it’s almost as if they are excited for its fall from grace, perceived or otherwise. In some cases, they declare their hope that the award simply dies; in other cases, their public displays of laughter are all the indicators one needs to determine how they feel about the Hugos. I don’t know why they take pleasure in Hugo controversies. At first, I thought it might be due to jealousy, since many of these same folks don’t get nominated in any of the categories or rarely see their own nominees appear,[1] but that would make their opinions petty and pathetic rather than detrimental. I think it goes much deeper than that; they are to the Hugos what the Joker is to Batman: they just want to see the world burn. This attitude should bother any of us who care about this genre for a number of reasons. First, while the Hugos may not be the arbiter of quality they are traditionally thought to be — indeed, they never were, being a semi-populist award from the start — they do remain an important feature of the sf/f genre. They are not, as some Hugo-lovers might suggest, the end-all-be-all of sf/f awards, in no small part because there are so many other awards which are equally important, though not necessarily as visible; the Hugos also fall short due to their very nature, which will by necessity critically alienate anyone who doesn’t value semi-populist views of what’s “best” in this genre. But they are important, even in a limited, fandom-bloc-oriented sense. The idea that these awards should die is, as such, like asking the genre to amputate its arm. Second, these awards are important to a lot of people, not just the SMoFs, but other authors, Worldcon attendees, and readers.[2] You may not agree with their views, as I often do not, but to take pleasure in the idea that something of importance to a bunch of individuals might go away or lose all significance is the worst sort of schadenfreude. The Hugos have been part of sf/f fandom for decades and were a way for sf/f fans to recognize the works they loved when nobody else would. These days, the Hugos serve a different purpose, but they remain important to a lot of people. I may not agree with the way the awards are run or how people vote for them, but I won’t begrudge the WSFS committee members or the voters for their passion for the award (if, indeed, it is passion for the award[3]). Those who enjoy seeing the Hugos mired in controversy seem to care little about the people who love what the Hugos represent in principle. This kind of sniping, fragmentary nature of fandom likewise seems counterproductive, as it necessitates the disconnection between fandom groups rather than their interaction. This, in turn, reinforces the bubble attitudes and makes change difficult. How can one expect the Hugos to change if the communities who participate in it or don’t aren’t actually talking about with one another. Fragmentation is not necessarily a good thing. It creates bubbles. Those bubbles become echo chambers. Nobody adds anything new to an echo chamber, and if you’re not adding anything new, you can’t adapt. I don’t particularly want to see the Hugos become an echo chamber. It needs to adapt with the times; to do that, people need to criticize it and participate for the love (however you want to code it).[4] If you don’t care about the awards, the reasonable response would be to simply ignore them. But the response I keep seeing is one of passive destruction. Some people want the Hugos to die, not because there is anything inherently wrong with the awards in and of themselves, but because they dislike the award for one reason or another. It’s about destruction, not construction. It’s about burning down the house for the laughs, not rebuilding the foundations. It would be one thing if the conversation were about putting more attention on other awards in an effort to add credibility to the genre; it’s entirely another to hope for the demise of any individual award simply because one disagrees with how they function, what they represent, and so on. The former is a constructive attitude; the latter is world burning. I’m one of the many who criticize the awards. While I can’t speak for all the others, I can say that my criticism comes from a position of love. I want the Hugos to be better. So do a lot of other people, especially those who have criticized the awards’ diversity, bloc voting practices, and so on. These are legitimate issues, and they should be addressed. And the best way to correct what you think are the flaws in the Hugos is to become a voting member.[5] But burning the award or taking pleasure in its demise is the kind of thing that makes fandom intolerable. This field deserves better. ————————————- [1]: In my honest opinion, some of them really deserve Hugo recognition. [2]: Not all readers, mind you. As has become clear in the discussions about the Hugos on Twitter, even readers who know about the Hugos don’t necessarily care if a book or author has won one. For me, this is a bit of a sticky area. Having involved myself in the Worldcon/Hugo universe over the last few years has reminded me that the award does not necessarily represent what I consider to be good, even though I am also a nominee on this year’s ballot — granted, I’m nominated in a very different category from literature (fancasts). [3]: As we have seen this year, there are some who vote with the intention of disrupting the process, often for political gain.
I spend far too much time on Twitter, which means I read a lot of tweets from a lot of authors. Some authors are great at interacting, carving out their little niche and creating a kind of Twitter persona to represent them. Others, however, are kind of like social media bacterial infections who must do everything they possibly can to sell their own work; they basically turn into walking spam monkeys. And still others present themselves as bitter, rage-infested monsters fit for the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. Neither of these latter two groups are particularly fun to engage, which might explain why the five things I’ve listed here haven’t actually helped many of these individuals develop a steady writing career. Here goes: Constantly Complaining About Your Career There are two kinds of career complaints: Legitimate grievances which occasionally happen and need to be addressed in a public forum (or privately in a different context) Unsubstantiated complaints about why your work isn’t doing as well as you’d like Whether or not it is actually true that there’s a conspiracy to keep you from being successful, constantly harping about such things makes you look less like a victim and more like a bitter failure. I have seen authors rant and rant about how their careers aren’t going the way they want, but it’s not their fault; someone else is responsible for the fact that their books don’t sell. It’s certainly possible that you’re being sabotaged by individuals or an -ism, but it is more likely your work isn’t selling for reasons within and beyond your control: your writing isn’t good enough, you don’t know how to market your work, you are writing X when the market is tired of it, nobody actually knows who you are because you’re published by a nobody, the previous book sold better than the second because it got into more bookstores, many of which are now closed, and so on an so forth. A lot of the times, the first two are the most likely culprits. Not everyone is a great writer. Some authors have pushed ahead too soon, expecting that their writing will meet the demands of the market. There’s no easy way to tell these folks that they need to spend more time developing their writing style and learning the craft. If you say anything, they’ll go back to the conspiracy theories about how you’re out to ruin their career or whatever. I’ve yet to see one of these conversations go well on Twitter, which I suppose is to be expected. Regardless, this perspective on the world of publishing is an annoying one, as the individual who believes it tends to become engrossed in the conspiracy against themselves, turning bitter, angry, and sometimes rude. Inserting Yourself Into Every Vaguely “Relevant” Hashtag Hashtags are a great Twitter tool. They’re useful for spreading opinions about a topic among a wider range of users. I’ve started running a hashtag called #monthlyreads, which is designed for a once-a-month sharing of the things you read. I expect this hashtag to get abused. Most people are pretty good about hashtags. They understand that they are for having a conversation or sharing information, and so they use it for that single purpose. But then there is that minority of people who believe every hashtag that is vaguely related to their work is a perfect place to insert said work. This happens most often in hashtags for sharing works of literature that fit within a category (diversity, for example). Everyone else shares their favorite books while some random author pops up to suggest their own work. There’s nothing inherently wrong with mentioning your own work on Twitter, but there is something tacky and downright annoying about constantly inserting said work into these hashtag conversations. Hashtags are not exclusively promotional in attitude, and so it is blatantly obvious that an author is trying to hawk their work when they join these conversations. Authors who do this are also rarely good writers. There’s something off about their work, either because it is substandard and has been self-published on the cheap or it is released through questionable means or the author is simply desperate and doesn’t know how to properly advertise. Hashtags are not about you. They are communal. Using them incorrectly is, frankly, irritating. It doesn’t bode well for you as an author if a portion of your potential readers identify you and your work with negative emotions. Constantly Being Angry About Stuff It doesn’t matter what you’re angry about: local politicians, racism, bad food, the fact that monkeys stole your wallet, sexism, liberals, how much you hate Country X, conservatives, gerbils, people who tweet about their cats…doesn’t matter. If your Twitter account is a long stream of angry tweets about anything in particular, it gives me the impression that you are an insanely angry person and, therefore, unapproachable. In my mind, that’s a bad thing. I’m an aspiring author and a podcaster. If I have little interest in interviewing you because you seem bitter and angry all the time, then I can assume other podcasters, interviewers, and so on might feel the same way. This isn’t to suggest that you shouldn’t complain about things that bug you. Twitter is a social network, after all, and that means you should use it to, well, be social. Anger is part of our social culture. But it should be clear that you also like things. Movies, hamburgers, recycling, the smell of new books…whatever. If the entire world pisses you off all the time, maybe you need to re-evaluate your entire life. There are good things on this planet, and your social network presence should show more than just the things that drive you up the wall. There’s also a separate issue here: people who are bitter and angry all the time (or most of the time) are also more likely to fall into the confirmation bias bubble. This can lead to a kind of