Nightwings

The Door Is Open

2010-05-04T05:01:00.000-05:00

Fairyhedgehog, who blog I follow, just posted about online aliases. Here is the link.

I commented that giving up an alias is sort of like coming out as a GLBT. I know there is an official "correct order" for those letters. I also know the order changed at least once. And I also know I can't remember which is the latest version. However, since I mean no disrespect I make no other apology regarding the order I chose. Okay?

For people like me, anonymity is still necessary. And I think fairyhedghog's post is a fitting one. You see, I am slowly, but surely, moving from one phase of my life into another. While never a "conservative", I did at one time hold and adhere to many conservative ideas and attitudes. Now, being older (and hopefully wiser), I have come to recognize many of those ideas and attitudes as more wrong than the things they stood against, which often are not wrong at all.

It's a scary time. And it explains the way I write about some things. Such as sex. And being GLBT.

Leaving one way of living and entering another is - confusing. At least sometimes. I don't know who - or what - I am right now. And so at times I apply labels to myself which are from my past - because I haven't completely absorbed the new way of looking at myself. But make no mistake: I like what I'm becoming better.

Mainly because I don't think I'm "becoming" anything. It doesn't have that feel. Not like a caterpillar entering a cocoon and emerging a butterfly. More like - a snake shedding it's skin. The old skin was confining. Dirty. Stuffy. The new skin is clean. Bright. Refreshing.

But frightening all the same.

Maybe being let out of prison is a better analogy. Or, not so much let out, as the door has just been opened, allowing me the freedom to leave on my own. But, like some caged creatures, leaving - the thing longed for throughout captivity - becomes something to be feared. And so only a few hesitant steps are made. And whenever anything startles it's back to the cell, which is familiar - and hated.

I am happy that those of you who read/follow this blog sometimes also comment to me and gently remind me that some of what I say about myself just isn't so. I'm using old terms from an old and narrow minded way of life to describe what it means to just be a person. No need for harsh words.

And maybe no need for anonymity, either.

But I expect that will be the last gate to pass through. Until then, I need to be Nightwings. As Nightwings I can talk about sex, romances, and other things.

And not be too startled.

Why I Became What I Use to Condemn

2010-05-01T04:56:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when my heart is hurting I write. I write a lot. Sometimes I only write a little. But when the heart is sick there is still the chance to write something. Even if it's just a short piece, or a poem to express the feelings of anguish.

It's different when the body is sick. A sick body means frequent visits to the bathroom and little time for actual writing. Maybe a blog post, or a mail chat. But to actually write. Doesn't usually happen.

I've been making bathroom trips. And so I have not been writing. My heart is in that numb stage after being hurt. You know? That emotional catatonic state in which it refuses to acknowledge any feelings whatsoever. Not easy to write without the passion.

But like I said, maybe there can be a blog post. And so here I am again.

There is a shame in being someone else's one night stand. I'm not sure exactly why that is, other than to guess it has to do with the reaons behind acquiessing. When the reasons can pretty much be boiled down to "I wanted to feel loved again" I guess being a one night stand is something of an indictement against my own intelligence.

Catching someone on the rebound isn't much better. Not if the relationship doesn't last. The feeling becomes that which is suspected of a ping pong ball. Bouncing from one lover to another. Do it too often and you get a reputation. Whore.

To be honest, I used to look down on men and women who behaved like that. Running from partner to partner. How could they do that, I wondered. Didn't they have any desire to just have one person to love and be loved by?

And now I'm the whore. And suddenly I understand something I never did before. It is precisely the desire to be loved by just one person that inspires the behavior. And with each failed relationship the desire becomes stronger. And more desperate.

I don't look down on "whores" anymore. I don't like looking down at me, I guess.

Anyway, I was thinking about it. Nobody becomes anything without some sort of history behind them to encourage it. This is important for writers to know and understand. WHY is my antagonist the antagonist. They're greedy? Why? What caused them to be greedy while the heroine is not? Why is the heroine going to stick with the story mission, instead of just chucking it away in boredom and indifference?

These things do not always need to be in the story itself. But the author should have answers to these questions. Many authors will write entire backstories for their characters. That way, the author understands what is "in character" for each and what is not. It is just as important to know why your antagonist has a soft spot in her heart as it is to know why she is such a bitch the rest of the time. And if you tell me it's because "that's the way women are" I will slap your face. All behavior has a reason. Those reasons do not always belong explicitly in a story, but they must be there as a background to keep characters in character.

Meanwhile, this whore needs to visit the bathroom again.

You Can't Have it Both Ways - Unless You Have the Money to Force It

2010-04-19T05:42:00.000-05:00

Regarding politics, social laws and things like that I am a bystander. I realize that makes me a disappointment to people who are working very hard and making tremendous personal sacrifices in order to ensure the betterment of living for themselves and/or for others. But the truth is, I don't like attending rallies. I don't picket. I don't like attending meetings and conferences - for anything, really.

In essence, I don't join causes - even when the cause should be my own.

Never have. Maybe that will change as I age. Don't know.

But I do know I am finding myself speaking out more and more about certain issues. And these issues tend to be closely associated with my faith. The main issue which inspires me to speak out is the issue of - acceptance.

As a member of the Christian faith - as opposed to the Christian religion - I am inspired to try and behave as Jesus behaved. And regarding acceptance of others, there was only one group of people Jesus rebuked: religious hypocrites.

So when I read news articles like this one, I find myself annoyed enough to want to speak out loud.

Apparently, there is this national group calling itself the Christian Legal Society. (For some reason I find that name scary. Even foreboding.) It wants to exclude certain people from its voting membership because they don't act/think/believe the same way as the group's general membership.

Personally, I have no trouble with these kinds of groups excluding others. Women's groups can exclude men. Men's groups can exclude women. Gay groups can exclude non-gays, and so on and so on.

Where I have trouble is when these groups want government money. By definition, this money is coming from ALL of the people. The government is not a separate entitity - no matter how badly it behaves. So by taking money from the governemnt, these groups are also taking money from the very people they are excluding. I think that's wrong.

The CLS (sounds like a disease - and I have a sick feeling it just may be one - a fatal disease if not treated correctly) claims it has the right to only include those it wants. No argument from me on that point. To paraphrase something my best friend once said to me when we were young: Anybody who would join that group deserves to belong to it.

The CLS also claims it has a right to receive financial help from the universities and campuses where it holds meetings.

WRONG!

Forming a group which poses no threat (and I'm not sure CLS qualifies in this) is a right of all U.S. citizens. And even visitors.

Receiving government money for your group is a priviledge, and as such comes with stipulations which must be met. The CLS does not meet these stipulations of openness. Therefore, the CLS should NOT get any money.

They say they are Christians? Okay. Then hear what Jesus said about the government:

Then he said to them, "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's."

That's in the Gospel of Matthew. Chapter 22, verse 21.

This is a government issue. Therefore, if CLS is going to "do as Jesus would do", they should shut up and give up on the money instead of trying to force the government to give it to them.

The CLS claims gay/lesbian/bi-/trans/etc. people are "evil". No. They're not. They are normal human beings. Made in the image of God and due the respect as such.

What is evil? Using religion as a cover for lack of faith in order to gain wealth and power while making the lives of others miserable.

The CLS is a legal group. They are entitled to exist by U.S. law.

But I think their behavior is an abomination in the eyes of God. I don't care what they call themselves. I see nothing of Christ in their behavior.

And do you know what's sad? The court decision is going to be based less on what is right, good or morally just, and more on who has the most money to get what they want?

That's another kind of evil.

If I Am Who I Am While Making Love I May Not Actually Be Anybody At All

2010-04-18T08:11:00.000-05:00

Recently, fairyhedgehog had a post about sex. Oh, damn! I just lost my reading audience.

Most of us are fascinated by sex to one degree or another. I know I am. There's something about sex which seems to get to who we really are. I think when we're engaged in lovemaking we have let down our final guards. We do if we really give ourselves to the experience anyway. Some of us are so inhibited we can't really enjoy sex as much as we could.

But that is not where I intended to go with this post.

Fairyhedgehog began her post with a quote from on Russell Smith. In that quote Mr. Smith makes a statement about "not truly understanding a character unless he knows how they are in bed." He adds that that is true of his real life friends, too.

Personally, I find Mr. Russell to be a sick sick man.

I mean, I have talked about sex and sexual activity with some of my friends. I even remember talking with my best friend a few days after I had my first encounter. But you know what? I didn't go into any great detail. At the time I was very upset with myself (I liked being a virgin) and so I focused more on why I gave in and how I was seduced more than the details of what actually took place.

Some people probably do get into the nitty gritty details with their friends about what they do. Mr. Russell apparently is one of them. Personally, I don't think I could do that. Nor do I want my friends doing that with me.

Not that I think it's "dirty" or "bad" or anything like that. As long as it isn't rape and it doesn't involve children, it's probably just fine.

But sex seems to get right to who we really are. It's the final guard to our spirits. I think that's why it's used by rapists. I seem to recall that most rapists don't actually enjoy the experience either - even if they do cum. But having consentual sex with another person is probably as close as we will ever come (no pun intended) to actually touching their spirit. We are all locked inside our bodies. We can't get out without dying. Hence the old phrase, "I'm trapped in a woman's body!" Or a man's. The spirit inside is at odds with the body nature gave them, and now they want out. With modern medical science those who can afford it can actually do something about it. The rest remain prisoners.

I don't talk about the details of my sexual behavior. Not even with my closest friends. (And they are SO grateful to me.) I don't think many people do. Especially across gender.

This is because I think if a woman starts telling a man the details of her bed behavior he's almost certain to assume she's coming on to him and wants him in her bed. And if a man starts telling a woman she's almost certain to think the same thing. Generally, in neither case is it all that comfortable conversation.

I don't talk about the details of what I do in bed because I don't like exposing myself (maybe it's subconscious, but I don't think I mean to be cute with the double entendre) like that. I have not had that many lovers in the real world. Had a few more in online fantasy. What I discovered is that lovers are easier to have online. I think it's because, unlike the real world, you can have sex online and still keep the separation of spirit. I don't like that. It's touching the spirit which makes the sex more meaningful to me. But more so online than in real life sexual partners are often only interested in pleasing the body.

Nobody likes to just cuddle anymore.

I could do that without ever having sex.

Well, maybe not ever. But you know what I mean.

It Never Was But it Never Matters

2010-04-15T05:40:00.000-05:00

Losing friends is part of life. All life on this planet ends in its time. People, animals, plants - relationships. Ultimately, they are all doomed to death.

Some things die in natural course. Some die before their time. But all things die.

There were people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago. Not a single person on this planet today knows they were ever here. But they were.

There was a time when they were alive and living. And when they died their life continued in the memories of those who knew them. But then those who knew them died, and their life could only live on in those who had been told about them. And then those who had been told about them died. Fewer and fewer people talked about them. Until nobody remembered they were here. All that become known was that someone was here. But nobody knew who.

The physical death of a lover is devastating. Some people never actually recover. The best they ever manage is to continue in their own life. But they don't really live it anymore. The grief just doesn't go away.

They are lonely.

I won't say it is more or less painful, but when the lover lives but the loving has died it is very much like physical death. There is grieving. And some people never actually recover.

We're lonely.

I have been told by many people recently that if someone truly loves me, then in time they will let go of anger/hurt/whatever negative feelings they have and return to me. And if they don't ever return to me then they probably never really loved me in the first place.

I know they mean well, but does making me think they never loved me in the first place supposed to make me feel better? The only remaining joy I have of my lover turns out to be a lie? That means there are no happy memories.

When Blue-Eyed Boy was very young - couldn't walk or use many words - I had him with me in a store. He was fussy. Life gets awful samey when you're sitting in a shopping cart. And for people that young samey can get bad in a hurry. But before his fussed too much he saw something fantastic: a giant wind-up jumping Tigger toy. It was being demonstrated. Wind it up and it would bounce its head a few times and then do a big flip. Blue-Eyed Boy thought that was pretty cool. And by letting him hold on to one and play with it I was able to complete my shopping in peace.

I had no intention of buying the toy, so it never really belonged to Blue-Eyed Boy. But you all know what happened when I finished shopping and finally put Jumping Tigger back on the shelf? Blue-Eyed Boy was upset.

Now I have been lucky with Blue-Eyed Boy. He has only thrown one tantrum in his whole life. That was a difficult time, but we got through it well enough. It took the most difficult time out I've ever experienced. I sat with him. We were BOTH in time out. And maybe that's why he never had a tantrum again. He knew he was not alone.

But losing Jumping Tigger was hard. Blue-Eyed Boy had come to believe Jumping Tigger belonged to him. So having it taken away was not a matter of him not getting his way. It was like losing something he already had.

He didn't throw a tantrum. But he cried. He cried a cry he had never cried before, and only repeated since when we lost animals due to illness. He was grieving.

Did it matter to him that the toy had never really been his? That poor communication on my part had helped him misunderstand? No. That didn't matter at all. What mattered is that he had believed he had something precious. And now it was gone. It broke his heart.

There are those who probably disagree with what I did next. We were actually more than a mile away from the store when I stopped the car to try and talk with him. Then, crying myself, I turned around and went back to the store and bought Jumping Tigger. Blue-Eyed Boy still has it. Hasn't played with it in more than ten years, but he still has it.

That was the only time anything like that ever happened with Blue-Eyed Boy. Since then I have been careful to be more clear about what is - and what is not - his.

But why is it so wrong for me to feel the same way about a lover?

Does it matter their love was never actually mine in the first place? No. Because there was a time I was convinced it was. There was a time when I sat in my shopping cart content with what I believed was mine. And now that it has been taken away - - - - -

I'm grieving.

So go ahead and tell me I was never loved in the first place. The proof is that my plea for reconcilliation has been ignored. Not even a "no" answer. Just silence. Like I don't exist.

It doesn't matter if they never loved me. Because I believed they did. And now they don't. And it hurts. And I always feel like crying. And I don't know how long it's going to take to recover.

I'm lonely.

Would the Real Me Please Step Forward

2010-04-12T04:59:00.000-05:00

I think I've mentioned before that I have played a few online games in which I get to be a whole new character other than myself. Some of them can be quite fun. Some not so much so.

What I find most enjoyable are the people I meet. Yes, we're all telling fantastic lies about ourselves - mostly with regard to our appearance. For even if we confess our age (which I kind of do - I give a decade) our visual images are generally young - and quite good looking. Mine is compared to the real life me anyway.

I've met people from a variety of occupations and countries. And ages. One of the people I've met is a young psychology student from somewhere in the eastern side of the United States. I actually know the state, but will grant her further anonymity by not revealing it. She said she read about people and their online behavior in one of her classes. There have been studies made. (Of course there have been studies made. There's always a study.)

Not surprisingly, the studies reveal that people are often more the way they want to be when playing these online games. Shy people often find themselves with arm loads of friends. And I suppose weak and powerless feeling people become dominant in the war games. (She didn't say that one. I'm guessing.) Followers must become leaders and I bet some leaders even become followers. And then there are the gender swappers.

I asked this question of her: So, if being online removes the barriers and fears I have in real life which prevent the real me from displaying to the world, does that mean I'm more real online than in real life?

Her answer: In way, yes.

What online has done is remove the visual aspect of who I am - which ultimately has little (nothing) to do with who I really am.

I believe this. Kind of.

For what I look like, and my physical gender, both directly affect my behavior in real life. If my body has limitations then I have limitations. There are places women and can go but men can't, and places men can go but women can't. There are socially accepted behaviors for women which are unacceptable for men, and the same in reverse.

She asked me to close my eyes and envision myself. Who do I see when I look at the me inside my body? In a cooperative mood, I began to list about six to eight character qualities I think I have - but rarely display - in my real life. As I listed them I felt a chill on my arms. Why? Because many people online have used those very words to describe me - without prompting of any kind from me. In real life I don't often get these compliments, even with prompting.

That conversation made me feel happier about myself online. And I realized just how many people online actually seem to like me. And if all of this mumbo jumbo about the real me showing up online more so than in person, then perhaps I am as kind, caring - and likeable - as I wished I was in real life.

Also makes me wonder about the people who are complete assholes in these games.

Complicated Characters

2010-04-05T05:01:00.000-05:00

Lonely people can make fascinating stories. I think so. Maybe that's because I kind of identify with lonely people, being a lonely person. But the Sad Clown act always appealed better to me than happy clowns. Happy clowns annoy me. Never liked them. Not even as a child.

A few months ago I stumbled across an old Jackie Gleason movie on our local PBS station: Gigot. It was a movie about a mute man living a pitiful life who befriends a woman and child down on their luck. Apart from the humorous aspects of the film, of which there were many, what I especially liked was the sensitivity of Gigot. Not that every lonely person is automatically sensitive. Some are lonely because they're so creepy nobody wants to be around them.

I remember seeing the movie "Lili" when I was young, starring Leslie Caron. She played a lonely young women who becomes part of a circus troupe. I haven't seen the movie in years but I remember it pulled at me.

There was a scene in a Burt Reynolds move (The End) which just made me cry. It was near the end, right after Reynolds' character realizes he doesn't want to commit suicide after all. He makes it back to shore only to find Dom DeLuise's character there - ready and willing to help him die. There is a struggle scene which ends with Reynolds throwing DeLuise to the ground and screaming at him that he doens't want to die and so "Quit trying to kill me! Do you understand?"

It was DeLuise's reply which makes me cry. He chokes up and says, "Yes. You don't like me anymore."

There is something in those words put together in that sequence and uttered from the heart that tears at me. It was at that moment that DeLuise's character, who had hitherto been annoying to me, endeared itself to my heart. Suddenly, I felt I understood this character. And in understanding, I found I liked him.

Sad characters are not so easy to write as one might think. For one thing, they have to have a reason to be sad. Seldom do single events turn people into sad people. Single events can make people sad, but unless that event is completely devastating it probably won't have the effect of turning that person sad henceforth. Humans tend to recover. Especially if we have support of people we care about.

The sadness I'm trying to talk about seems to result from a person seeing their self-worth as no longer a part of themself. The two have become disconnected. You will notice - in real life - that sad people often are very giving. Why? Most likely because the times when they have received what they want have resulted from when they gave.

And so they give.

Money. Food. Possessions. Sex.

What makes their situation even sadder is that there are a lot of people who recognize the signs of such people and will take complete advantage of their giving nature. They will take every penny they have. Eat them out of house and home. Steal possessions. Make them their sex toy instead of their lover.

These are the stories that are hard to write. They may seem fairly straightforward, but they're not. Not if one is to make them believable.

So What Have I Done Anyway

2010-04-02T07:53:00.000-05:00

Fairyhedgehog, who has some of the most adorable, humorous, and clever posts has another one: Have You Had Sex.

She links to another blog in which study results are listed. Included in those results is the statistic that 95% of respondees considered penile-vaginal intercourse sex. So what do the other 5% think of that? God knows. lol

What I find most amusing about that statistic is I have struggled with the definition of sexual intercourse myself. (Oh. In case you're wondering, this is one of the few times I go with the majority. I DO think putting a penis into a vagina is having sex.)

But then there are the cases of rape. Is that sex? Unfortunately, yes. It's just that sex has become a weapon and not a means of love making.

But enough about that.

One of the the comments to fairyhedgehog's post mentioned "phone sex" and "cyber sex". IS that sex?

And what about this scenario:

A woman goes online. She takes on a male personna. (Why doesn't matter. She just does.) She meets a female personna. They get to chatting/texting and find they are attracted to each other. So, unable (and unwilling to take the risk of) to be together physically, they begin talking about what it would be like if they could be together. IOW, they have cyber sex.

Is this woman a lesbian? Did she engage in sexual activity? I mean, she knows she's not a man. But she really doesn't know if the woman she's been pretending to have sex with is actually a woman. What if it's a man pretending to be a woman?

This whole gender/having sex thing online is very confusing to me.

No wonder I say I'm gender confused.

Experience Makes for Good Stories

2010-03-27T13:32:00.000-05:00

It never ceases to amaze me how stupid I can be. I mean, by many standards I am actually an intelligent person. In school I always got As in classes I liked, Bs in classes that were interesting but not my favories, Cs in the other classes.

When confronted with problems at work and school I would usually come up with a creative solution that worked. I remember the one place I worked I redid their entire coding system. Spent three months doing it. I found out that fifteen years later they were still using it.

And my ideas for improving efficiency were all implemented with great success.

No, I am not a stupid person.

So why do I behave so stupidly?

It's desperation. You know?

That feeling of extreme panic when I realize what my life has turned into. And so when someone likes me, I put reason and caution aside and leap forward, hoping to find something that just isn't there.

I can make use of my stupidity. In my writing.

My characters can be just like that. Intelligent. Until it comes to a matter of the heart. And then - like the flipping of a switch - foolishness reigns supreme.

Except I have a difficult time not writing happy endings. Too much reality for me, I guess.

I guess I can't find what I'm looking for because it's beyond my having in this life. Or maybe I just don't know what it is.

Whichever, I now have another painful experience to draw from when writing a story about a character I want to be real.

Different Mes

2010-03-15T12:12:00.000-05:00

It never ceases to amaze me how pain and loneliness seem to bring out the greatest in artistic effort.

Some of the best songs were written through tears. Comedians draw upon past pain to make us laugh. And the anguish of a heart inspire great poetry and prose.

Not always, of course. Some of the funniest comedians admit to happy childhoods.

I guess I can't speak to that.

I do know my best work - the writing I've done which I enjoy - stems from great sadness and loss. Rejection. That feeling - knowledge - that I never fit in.

At times it seems like a friend. You know? But I know it's warped me. Why else do I not know who and what I am? It's why my "about" section uses the word genderqueer. To be honest, I don't even know that THAT means. But I know what I wish.

I wish I could put on and take off what I am like clothing. Some days I could be physically strong. Some days I would be petite. Some days I would be a leader. Other days I would follow. Some days I would be beautiful beyond words. Other days I would be down and dirty, actually getting something done.

But whatever I wore, this would be true: I would be me. And I would have value.

Creating Real Characters

2010-02-07T07:39:00.000-06:00

For people who wish to write creative stories, either for the theatre, film, internet, or printed pages, need to be aware of. It's stereotypes.

While not necessarily bad in a story, I think they are when they happen without the writer's knowledge. My reasoning is that instead of making a statement (pro or con) regarding the stereotype, the writer is simply perpetuating it. Generally, stereotypes are not good.

I'm old enough to remember the 1960s. It was a time of great civil rights strife for everyone, but prominently for black people. Hollywood, wishing to appeal to a wide audience, did what it could to demonstrate equality. But as its motivation was money alone, sometimes its own prejudices came out in its very efforts to show no prejudice.

I recall reading a Mad Magazine issue in which the primary movie being satirized had a black character in it. In the satire, when the black character shows up he identifies himself as, "Hi! I'm the token black."

What made the satire so funny was it was absolutely true. In the actual film the only purpose that character served was to be a black person getting along with white people. It didn't come off (for me), as is evidenced that I can't even recall the movie's title anymore. All I remember is that one scene from Mad Magazine's parody.

Stereotypes can be useful things in setting up statements about our society. They are especially useful in humor, as is evidenced by stand up comic routines about "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Men_Are_from_Mars,_Women_Are_from_Venus"

When writing with a purpose, stereotypes can work very well. But what if a writer includes stereotypes in their work unaware?

Back in the 1960s and 70s virtually ALL gay people on television were male. Lesbian was a word people knew about, but on television there didn't seem to be any. Not that I remember anyway. (Maybe I just watched the wrong shows. There were women who were depicted as being very "manly", and perhaps that was television's way of dealing with it.) And EVERY gay man I recall being depicted was over the top gay.

Now there is nothing wrong with "manly" women, or over the top gay men. But not every lesbian is "manly" (not sure anymore what that means either), and not every gay man is over the top. (Oh, by over the top I mean the lispy voice, extreme fascination with fashion, limp hand wave, etc.)

I once saw a comedian on television talking about how several of his friends were gay and a few were, in fact, over the top. He said he acted that way sometimes, too. Why? "Because it's FUN! I love to say spritz!" You had to have been there. But in poking fun he was also telling us something in his routine: Not all gay men act the way you think they do. In fact, even with a softening of attitudes toward sexuality, there are a lot of gay people who are still afraid to let others know. For some it is even dangerous to let this truth out. People are often surprised when they learn someone is gay. How can that be - if all gay people act the same? If people can't tell without being told, then I maintain that there is no gay behavior which reveals a person's sexuality - other than what would take place in private. But even then. Do all gay people engage in gay sex? I don't think so. After all, not all heterosexual people engage in heterosexual sex.

I maintain that sexuality is not just what we do with our bodies. In fact, our bodies may have much less to do with our sexuality than we realize. I believe sexuality is at the spirit level. In the heart of hearts. We simply give labels based on the bodies we were born with.

So I think we need to be careful when writing characters. I've only read one of her books, but Tanya Huff writes about gay and bi-sexual people. What makes her writing so wonderful is how natural the characters are. Nobody is "acting gay". They are behaving like people. Real people. The way real gay and lesbian people behave.

We need to keep that in mind when we write our characters. Remember, a character can be gay and never have it referred to in the story even once! Consider J.K.Rowling revealing that Albus Dumbledore is homosexual. Until she said that how many people suspected - or cared? It wasn't important for her to tell/show us in the story. She knew. And that was what was important.

As writers, I think we need to keep this in mind when creating characters who have an historical stereotype which can be applied.

Just a thought.

The Ostrich People

2010-01-27T04:28:00.000-06:00

I saw a television special the other evening about George Carlin. He was being postumously awarded an honor by the Kennedy Center. I enjoy watching these shows when it's comedians who are being honored. I've seen Lucille Ball and Bill Cosby honored, too.

George Carlin could be immensely funny. He could also be simply strange. I once saw him on the Jerry Lewis Telethon. He came out looking very angry. He positioned himself in front of everyone and stood and stared for roughly four to eight minutes (whatever his allotted time was). When his time was up he smiled and bid the crowd thank you. Those were the only words he spoke. Whether he was pissed off at Jerry or someone at the place, or whether he was testing a new routine I do not know. Neither did the crowd which was there.

But George Carlin understood humor. He also understood something else: people. The two kind of go toether, I think.

One of the clips from the special in his honor was a bit in which George mentions something about Americans and language. Americans constantly change which words are appropriate to use. The reason? Americans have trouble facing the truth. The bit talked specifically about "shell shock" versus "combat fatigue" versus "post traumatic disorder". As the terminology changed, so did Americans' attitude about those suffering from the problem, until those suffering no longer got the treatment they needed, deserved, and had earned.

I've known this about Americans for a long time. As a people, we are liars. Mainly, we lie to ourselves. We tell ourselves we're smarter than people from other nations. That was ingrained in me when I was growing up. Everything I was taught in school supported this belief. And yet America does not rate in the top ten in academics around the world. Some college students from England came to the United States to do a study. They were curious about how much Americans knew about their own country. The English students visited several large cities and randomly stopped people and questioned them. Nearly three quarters of the people they spoke with couldn't identify which state Cleveland is in. (Ohio, if you're wondering.) Some even thought it might be a state. Virtually none could repeat even the first three words of the Constitution. (We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America..)

This ignorance is often premeditated. I have seen this with many simple, but well-meaning people, who simply (pun intended) choose to pretend that certain things/people/ideas do not exist. I know a woman who, every time the news began to speak of rape, murder, child abuse, or anything like that, she would change the channel so her children wouldn't hear about it. If the topic of gays and lesbians came up she would usher her child away from the room. Such things are not for children's ears.

Why not?

I had more than a few arguments with this woman, and never could she give me a definitive reason for her actions. Other than fear. What if her child became like that?

I don't know the answer to that. But what if her child grew up to be like her? Turning off the news because it talked about something she didn't like, or understand, or agree with? What if her child grew up to be the kind of person that believed people who think and act differently from a select group's established norm should be suppressed and oppressed? Possibly even put to death?

America has become a battle ground, I think. It's an all out war. Not being fought with tanks and rifles and aircraft. It's being fought with ideas. The most important idea is whether any person has the right to think and be what they want. On the one side is a growing number of people who believe in freedom for all. On the other is a growing number of people who bear a striking resemblance to the people who surrounded Adolph Hitler.

Many people refuse to believe that what happened in Germany in the 1930s and 40s could ever happen in America. Like this woman I know they bury their heads in the sand, or run away, whenver the topic is even hinted at. We can't stop it if we don't stand against it. And we won't stand against it if we refuse to admit it even exists. Or is our problem.

Is There Another Holocaust On the Horizon

2010-01-14T09:04:00.000-06:00

Lee Wind just posted recently about a new law the Ugandan government is planning to pass. Basically, the law states that homosexuality (and lesbianism) is illegal, and the penalty for being such is death. HERE is his actual post.

Although this is Uganda and not the United States, it is still frightening. As Lee points out in his post, this fear-mongering is exactly how Hitler and his people came to power. It's how the Bush Administration was able to remove so many civil rights for everyone in this this country, and how the ultra-conservatives are still attempting to manipulate and control us.

The fact that we already have these (powerful) elements in our own society is what makes this Uganda thing so frightening. They were instrumental in helping the Ugandans come up with this atrocity. And they're here! In the United States.

They haven't achieved this level of insanity here - yet. But with this action their intent has become clear. It may seem like complete science fiction to believe they could create death camps such as Auschwitz and Buchenwald here in America, but I expect that's what it seemed like to Germany in the 1920s and early 30s.

We have to be aware of how these enemies of humanity operate. And we must try and block them. America is so filled with fear and hatred now it is a very scary place to live.

Read Lee Wind's post. I believe he links to the original New York Times article.

Being Who We Want to Be

2010-01-11T13:42:00.000-06:00

Hello. It's been more than a month since my last post so I would not be surprised if nobody reads this.

A lot of what I write now deals with males and females behaving in a-typical male and female ways. Or, I should say, what the social perception of male and female ways are.

Apart from writing about lesbians, I also put women in dominant roles, both on the "good guys" side and the bad. Men can be subordinate to women and women to men. But in my stories I don't really mention that that is so. The reader can clearly figure that out for herself as Emily, director of the company, is a woman, and Brad, some junior executive, is a man.

I try to treat my characters' roles naturally. Nobody in the story is surprised that Vanessa is a great warrior, or that Gary likes to cook and take care of the house. Nobody gets teased about what they're doing because their job is opposite their gender.

I've read many stories like that and I find that makes those stories so much better. Stories that need to point out how normal something is just do the opposite: they reinforce how UN-natural the writer sees it. To be honest, I do not consciously assign roles to female and male characters - except my main character and main antagonist.

To be honest, I think most people, whatever their visible and vocal declarations are, prefer that as well. What is more, I think, given a chance, people would like to experiment with things like that.

I have heard many people criticize those who get operations to change their gender. Yet I wonder how many of those who make these criticisms do the same thing in the cyber world? I've been doing a little reading on this topic (very little, compared to what is available). All of these chat rooms, make-believe worlds, Twitter and Facebook accounts, and even Blogger, are filled with men and women pretending to be the opposite sex.

I have done it. I have joined a couple of "worlds" online in which one chooses an Avatar and moves about, interacting with others around the real world in this created cyber world. I have been women. I have been men. I have been dark-skinned and light. I have been blonde and brunette. I have been gay and I have been straight.

Why do people do this? Why have I done it?

From what I have read the reasons are probably as varied as there are people doing it, although curiosity seems to be the most frequent reason given. For those of us who have always been the same gender, there is a natural curiosity about what it would be like to be the other. Women see the advantages of being a man much more clearly than men. And in reverse, men see the advantages of being a woman. I think both have more difficulty seeing the disadvantages of the other side.

Apparently, most gender changing is done by men. But that is not to say there aren't plenty of women doing it, too. Perhaps more than is realized.

Apart from curiosity, there are a couple of practical reasons for a woman to choose a male Avatar - particularly in competitive games. One woman wrote to say that she had joined an online community game which allowed for players to form teams. She wanted to lead her own team, but found few players willing to join a team led by a woman. (Sexism exists even in the cyber world.) So she created a new Avatar and found plenty of able and strong characters willing to submit to her authority and leadership. Meanwhile, a man wrote that he was having difficulty advancing his character in an online game community he had joined. So he switched. Suddenly, he found "male" characters falling all over themselves to him him/her out.

What I found comforting was that the instances of "perversion" being a motivating factor seem to be low. It exists, just like in the real world. But mostly it is people experimenting in a way which is - mostly - harmless. I say mostly because there are risks.

I read how a man (real world and game world) had got to know a female game character. Their relationship blossomed to the point where the man began to believe he was falling in love for real. He began to pressure the female character to let him call her for real. That was when the female character had to admit she was really an old man in the real world. Quite a shock.

But that exmemplifies something I have believed for some time now: true love is not based on gender. It is based on two people connecting in such a way that they wish to bond together. For some people (men and women), this is far more likely to happen with a woman than a man. For others (again, men and women) it will be with men. We call the women who fall in love with women, lesbians. Men we call, gay. But perhaps the day will come when we simply call them lovers. Husband and wife. Marriage partners.

For myself, I find when I feel a need to be sexy, slinky, and greatly desired, I will put on my female Avatar. I have yet to find a site that creates unattractive and poorly proportioned characters. When I want to "be in charge", I will put on my male Avatar.

Am I being sexist? Yes. I guess I am. But to me, that is one of the beautiful things about pretending. I can be anything I want. They're all just characters I can put on and take off like a sweater. Some fit tigher than others. And some are more comfortable. But woman or man, none of them are really me. Any more than the characters my characters interact with are real. That's probably the saddest thing about pretending. It isn't real.

Too Young to Be Married

2009-12-04T07:13:00.000-06:00

Although we can still improve things, we have come a long way as regards children. At least in western culture. I've been reading a little about roman and medieval culture. Back in those days girls as young as twelve were being married. Today we consider this rape.

My recollections of being twelve are vague at best. But I have a child of thirteen, and trying to imagine this person being married is beyond my ability. It doesn't fit. I watch the children come out of school and I do not see young women and young men. I see girls and boys. How can someone look upon these children and become aroused? They're so young and innocent (to my eyes). And maybe that's what pedephilia is all about. The destruction of innocense.

Granted, back in medieval and roman times marriage was not generally based on any kind of love feelings. It was based on money and/or political strength. Children were just another piece of property to be used for selfish gain. And as everyone was doing this nobody saw it as wrong.

I wonder how it managed to change.

The concept of young marriage makes world building difficult. Especially in a culture which has become acutely aware of predator adults preying upon children and using sex as their weapon. But there are those in our own society, today, who feel that even eighteen-year-olds are too young to be married.

Some believe that the ability to produce children is proof of marriage readiness. I don't see how that can be true. Not in our society, at least. I have heard of girls as young as twelve being raped and bearing children. I think it may also be around that age that boys begin producing sperm. That's about the age of puberty. It varies from person to person, and it's more of a process than an event, I think.

I guess I am too caught up in modern thinking to accept - or create - a culture in which twelve-year-old humans are married. I look at my own child and think that would be sick. They're not ready.

But when could they be?

I wonder if in a simpler culture younger works, while in a more complex culture it doesn't. Part of being married is surviving together in the world. Western culture is fraught with so many predators of varying kinds that the only way a young marriage could work would be if they lived at the home of one or the other's parent/s or guardian/s. For protection.

I kind of use that approach in my worldbuilding. Sometimes. When I have a culture which allows young marriages, sixteen or seventeen, it is because the couple will continue to live in the home of either the bride's or groom's parents. But I suppose I am still affected by modern thinking because I never have thirty-year-old men marry sixteen-year-old girls. For the most part, I have my marries fairly close in age.

And yet that was not how it was done in real life. But that was a different culture in a different time.

Who Decides, And Upon What Do They Base Their Decision

2009-11-27T13:52:00.000-06:00

In case anyone failed to notice I haven't posted anything in a while. That's because I haven't been in the mood for public display. Also, I haven't had anything even I thought was interesting to say.

I was inspired to write an erotic love-making scene this morning. Not sure if "love-making" is a proper term, considering the relationship was incestual. Not sure why I was inspired to write about incest. That's one of life's miseries to which I have not been subjected to.

Perhaps it's because I have been thinking hard about a world, or reality, if you will, in which many of our current moralities do not exist. What are the moral reasons for refusing to allow siblings to marry? Biologically, we know brother-sister unions are frought with the risk of congenital disorders in the children, particularly as they affect the brain. Where I grew up there was a family which kept mostly to itself. There was a mother, father, and two children: boy and girl. I never saw the father, and only vaguely remember the mother, but both the children were - and forgive me, because I do not know the proper word for it - retarded. Or something like it. They had great difficulty in learning and were placed in a special education classroom with others of a like sort. Back then we hid people like this away, so the so-called normal people wouldn't have to look at them.

The parents were rumored to have been brother and sister. I don't know if the rumor was true, but even adults persisted in it. Adults who seemed to know them. There were a LOT of first cousin marriages in the area. (If you're wondering, my parents were not one of these pairs. We had emigrated to the community from someplace else.)

I will say that the community's overall academic level was pitiful at best. It took virtually no effort for myself and my siblings to rise to the top of our grades - grade wise.

But if the danger of birth defects could be overcome - would it still be immoral for siblings to marry? And what about gay and lesbian relationships? Until such time that our science improves sufficiently, two women are not going to produce a child. Neither are two men. So would it be immoral?

For those who say all forms of GLBT are abnormal I suppose so. But we're learning new things about that all the time. Even from a religious perspective.

But even people who turn their backs on conventional religion generally are not in favor of sibling marriages. Why? Beyond birth defects, is there a reason? What is morality anyway?

They Wouldn't Have Hired Me Anyway

2009-11-14T15:55:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted in a while. It's hard to think of something wise and profitable to say. All I have are feelings. There is no real wisdom to impart.

I thought about applying for work at one of the nearby GLBT (I don't know the correct order) newspapers. I hesitated because, technically, I don't fall into any of those groupings. I'm just kind of confused about myself. That's why I refer to myself as "genderqueer".

So I hesitated to apply for any kind of work. (Even paper hanger.) But this past week I did some online searches for which papers were nearby. I had a friend who had gone to work for the one. But that one seems to be out of business. In fact, so many of them are. Ultimately, I wasn't able to find any. But then I have a hard time finding anything online. I guess there's a smart way to search for things, but I've never figured it out. It's hard for me to find any kind of publishing place which would accept fantasy stories about lesbian love. I guess that just proves how much I don't belong, although I wish I did.

Specialty papers all over are going out of business. I've read some articles distressing over how the entire GLBT publishing industry has taken very hard hits over the past few years. Few of them had the financial resources to withstand the economic downturn. The small are usually the first to go. Even when they have something important to say, or serve a very useful purpose.

Everyone needs a voice. Sometimes that voice comes through someone else's writing, or music, or performance, or speech. That's when another person agrees with our position, but while we're unable to speak for ourselves, they can do it for us. They say what we want to say, or would say if we could.

But sometimes we need to speak for ourselves. That isn't always easy. And with fewer places to publish, it's even harder than it was.

Story Time

2009-11-07T06:00:00.002-06:00

Episode 1006

“What are you thinking about, Paran?”

“Not much. Just the village, and how everybody probably reacted to our running off like we did.”

“Are you sad you left?”

“No. Not really. I mean, I miss my family, and Old Conway, the butcher. He was funny. But as much as I miss some I am glad to be free of Kerr.”

Elon shuddered. “I should say so. He’s such a brute.”

“Not your type, huh? Well, I shouldn’t worry. I expect your father would find someone much more suitable for you than Kerr. Now, let’s see, who would be good for you? How about Clement? He’s a nice, gentle sort. He would make you a fine husband, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want Clement!” Elon hated it when Paran teased her about husband possibilities. For one thing, she never suggested the one person Elon would be thrilled to have. But then, nobody ever did. And Elon didn’t dare tell anyone. So she knew that one day, like Paran, she would have been faced with the decision to either marry someone she didn’t want, or flee to freedom. It was better to leave now with Paran than to wait and have to escape on her own. Paran was right: she wasn’t that great in the woods. But she knew she could be great in the house. The implications of that thought made her smile.

“I don’t think you know who you want,” said Paran. “But no matter. It wasn’t a decision likely to be made any time soon. Or at all, if I don’t find a way to get you home.”

“Home! I’m staying with you.”

“For now, yes. But what about later? I don’t think your father is going to quit looking for you until he finds you.”

Elon smiled. “Or Aricin, until he finds his pony.”

She was glad that Paran laughed. Laughter was the best way to get Paran away from troublesome talk. She knew Paran was probably right about her father and brother, but she would deal with them when the time came. For now, they didn’t know where she was. She was safe. She was with Paran.

Paran sat up.

“I’m thinking maybe we should get some sleep. It was a difficult walk today and I’m sure you’re as tired as I am. Do you want the bed? Or should I take it?”

Elon glanced at the bed, beckoning to them from the shadows.

“I shouldn’t think the bed would be a good idea tonight. Let’s wait until daylight and see what kinds of things have made a home in it.”

“Hmm. Good thinking.”

“Told you that you needed me along.”

“So you did. Then I guess we sleep by the hearth, if that’s all right with you?”

She lay back down, head near Elon’s. Elon sighed wistfully. It didn’t have to be like this, did it? Never certain on how Paran would respond, she was hesitant in her offer.

“You can lay beside me – if you want.”

Paran rolled over onto her stomach. Her eyes were searching, though for what Elon wasn’t certain. That’s the way Paran was. You could know everything about her and still not know what she was thinking.

“You nervous about the place? And why they left?”

It was as good an excuse as any.

“A little.”

Chuckling, Paran got up with her blanket. She made Elon scoot to the side on hers and lay facing Elon’s back. She pulled her own blanket over them, draping her arm over Elon’s side.

Elon smiled contentedly. This was how they had slept the past three nights. Paran said it would keep them warm in the night. It did give a warm feeling, thought Elon. Inside and out. She took Paran’s hand and clutched it close to her heart.

Story Time

2009-11-04T06:00:00.002-06:00

Episode 1005

Paran stared into the flames. “I’m not sure. The original plan was to travel all the way to Littoral Haven. But our detour makes that more difficult.”

“Why did we detour?”

A shrug. “Just a whim. I just had this feeling it was time to get off the ridge.”

The quiet was inviting. Elon mustered up her courage.

“What about staying here?”

Paran’s head turned. “Stay here? Elon, we don’t even know there’s water. And what will we eat?”

“There has to be water, Paran. Who would stake out a farm without water? That field certainly has tasted the plow. As for food, we have some things left that we brought. And there are plenty of wild things in the trees. And you have you bow. Can’t we at least try? This seems such a nice place.”

Paran turned back to the fire.

“It isn’t that I’m against staying. We just have to be sure we can survive here. You’re right about the water. There must be some nearby. And if we have to eat squirrel and rabbit and mountain herbs for a while that should be fine. But I think before we decide anything for certain we should have a look around come daylight. We just might discover why the previous tenants left. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Elon smiled. That was another thing about Paran. She didn’t like jumping into things. She weighed out the risks carefully. But putting aside anything horrible, it was likely she would relent about the farm. Paran didn’t let pride interfere with her judgment. Not usually.

So what had it been when she had agreed to let Elon accompany her on this escape? Surely she must have thought it out. Of course, at first, she had argued against it, as she had in taking the pony.

“Don’t talk crazy, Elon. You’re not coming, and that’s final.”

“But why?”

“For one thing it only guarantees someone is going to come after us. Your father will lead half the village on a recovery mission. For another, you’ll just slow me down.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You will. You know you’re not nearly so good in the forest as me.”

“But you’ll need someone to take care of you. You weren’t even going to bring much for provision. At least I knew to bring Amos.”

“And that’s another thing. Do you think Aricin isn’t going to mind us taking his pony? And if you’ll slow me up just think what a pony will mean.”

“I’m just going to follow you, Paran. You know I will.”

Maybe it had been that final threat which made Paran finally concede. Or maybe she was feeling the pressure of time. Elon only dared hope in the quietest place in her heart what could have been why.

For three days now they had walked the ridge. The fear of pursuit was always there, but Elon was happy. She was with Paran. What did the future matter as long as that was so?

She glanced at Paran, still staring into the flames. What did she see when she was seeing beyond what was here? Even to Elon, who considered herself to be Paran’s best friend in the world, Paran seldom revealed her secret dreams. But Elon knew a lot went on in that head. If only she could reach it.

Story Time

2009-10-31T06:00:00.001-05:00

Episode 1004

“Let’s bring Amos to the cabin and unload our gear. Then I’ll make sure the paddock will keep him in place.”

The door opened to the south so seeing into the cabin was difficult. Elon waited at the door while Paran put Amos in the paddock. While she did she chanced to see the remains of a wood pile. There wasn’t a lot there, but there was enough to see them through a night or two. Paran’s joy over the discovery only made it better.

Paran entered first, holding a large stick she had picked up for protection against anything that might have decided to use the cabin for its home. There was nothing. So they brought in several armloads of wood and started a fire. Soon, a warm glow was taking the chill out of the air and their bones.

The cabin seemed larger on the inside. Elon saw that was because it was longer from north to south than from east to west. It was all a single room, with a loft area accessed by a ladder attached to the east wall near the fireplace. A rustic table stood in the middle, with four chairs, equally non-impressive in appearance, but sturdy in workmanship. There was a pantry, a wardrobe, and even a large tub, complete with a drain leading out a hole in the floor near the wall. A bed was against the far north wall, it’s straw mattress an inviting vision after three nights on the cold hard ground.

There was no stove. A fireplace crane appeared to be how cooking was done. That was fine with Elon. She had only brought one small kettle, but that was in hope of the future. They had no meat nor vegetables to eat anyway.

They lay head to head in front of the hearth. Elon on her left side and Paran on her right. Before them the fire danced and sang. Occasionally an ember would spit and jump, as if adding emphasis to the song. Most of the smoke found its way up the chimney, but enough wafted into the room to give a wholesome smell. Elon always liked the smell of burning logs. She liked it how the smells clung to clothing and skin, as ever reminders of a pleasant evening.

“Why do you think they left?” asked Elon.

“Don’t know. Could be any of several reasons. Maybe the water’s bad up here. Or maybe there isn’t any. I didn’t see a well. But I think whoever was here left in a hurry. Or they were killed.”

A stab of fear went through Elon and she rolled to her stomach to see Paran.

“Killed?”

Paran seemed unconcerned. “Or something. I mean look around here. There’s a table. A pantry. A wardrobe. A bed. Even a soft chair.”

“So you think they died?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. There’s only big stuff here. The wardrobe and pantry are empty. Someone took those things. So either those who lived here left without their furniture, or others came later and took their things.”

Elon glanced around the cabin. Everything was dancing in shadows. What Paran had said was true. A quick examination of things had revealed nothing small or easy to carry. Only the furniture pieces remained.

“But the furniture seems well made. I wonder why they left it.” She turned back on her side. Paran’s confidence in the matter was enough for now. However, Elon still couldn’t help feeling that she hoped they didn’t learn the answer to that question. She decided to steer the conversation. “What is our plan for tomorrow?”

Story Time

2009-10-28T06:00:00.001-05:00

Episode 1003

They ate some jerky and some bread. Then Paran decided to scout ahead.

Elon sat close to the pony and waited anxiously. Her eyes constantly strayed from the rock slide behind to the path Paran had taken ahead. Time was an enemy. A threat. Every moment Paran was gone was another possibility that she wasn’t coming back. What if there was another slide? What if she had fallen and was hurt? What if Kerr and her brother were to show up, demanding the return of both the pony and Paran? What, what, what?

It was impossible to know how long Paran had been gone. Fear stretched moments to minutes. But the sun was going down. That wasn’t imagination. But finally Paran was back. She seemed happy. Elon was.

“You’ll never believe this, but I found an abandoned farm not far from here. There’s a small cabin for us and a lean to with paddock for Amos. Hurry. Let’s get him packed up again and be on our way.”

Amos seemed doleful as Paran settled the packs on his back. Elon caressed his cheek, thinking how soft his hair felt. It was like a fine flax. Or the tassels on the top of corn stalks.

The ground was sloping but not steep, so they made good time. Still, they were in the foothills, and the tall pines were quickly shielding them from the sinking sun. Shadows were long and deep. Then, they broke free to a clearing.

Elon felt herself gasp. It was a beautiful farm. Small, but nicely placed. The ground was mostly level here, for several acres. To the west it dropped off, but not without leaving plenty of room for crops. In fact, the earth still showed the scars from previous year’s work. The paddock was small, only large enough for two or three animals. A lean to stood against the hillside, providing protection from anything that might be falling down from above, such as rocks. Or snow. It even had a wind break on the paddock side.

There was a barn. Not large, but a farm such as this wouldn’t need a large barn. But already Elon could imagine what it must be like inside. A place for corn. A place for hay. A place to store their equipment, once they got some.

The cabin looked darling. It was also small. A chimney stack stood like an attached sentinel. Two shuttered windows flanked a single door. Was there a root cellar? She couldn’t tell. It was getting too dark. But there had to be. Down the slope and tucked into the trees was the shadow of an outhouse.

“Oh, Paran! This looks wonderful. Are you sure it’s abandoned?”

“As sure as I can be after just a few minutes. No fresh dung in the paddock. No smoke from the chimney. No light in the cabin. Whoever did live here is gone now.”

“I wonder why someone would leave a farm like this? It seems so perfect.”

“It is for us. We can put a fire in the hearth. No more huddling to keep warm.”

Elon swallowed the feeling of disappointment. “I didn’t mind.”

Story Time

2009-10-25T10:35:00.000-05:00

Episode 1002

"Paran, are you all right?"

Paran's face screwed up in apparent disgust. "Yes. My own fault. I thought I could quicken the pace. Serves me right. What about the pony?"

The pony was struggling to get up but the pack was making it hard. Elon began undoing the straps. Elon held onto the lead as the pony got to its feet. Paran examined it. After a few minutes she sighed.

"Well, he doesn't seem to be hurt. Let's find a place to stake him out so he can eat and relax."

Spring was still fresh, but it had been a warm winter and already most of the snow was already gone, even from some of the high places. So finding a place for the pony to eat wasn't hard. There wasn't a lot in any one place, but there was enough to satisfy the pony.

Elon went to Paran, who was examining their packs. She looked up the hill.

"Do you think they're coming after us?"

Paran didn't look up. "Probably."

The short answer felt like a slap in the face, and Elon nearly fell back. She shouldn't have said anything.

"You're still mad about the pony?"

"We've been over this a dozen times, Elon."

"But we really needed him."

This time Paran's sigh showed exasperation.

"Yes! I agreed with you. Remember? Having the pony meant we could bring more supplies. But you must admit that taking your brother's pony means we now have him to worry about, too. If it had just been Kerr we would probably be free now. I don't see Kerr traipsing this far just to catch a runaway bride."

"I don't know. Kerr is a bit of a pig head."

Paran laughed. The sound lifted Elon's heart.

"That he is. And father had the nerve to say I would be happy with him. Hmph! As if anyone could be happy with Kerr."

Encouraged by Paran's laughter, Elon sat down.

"I'm glad you ran away from him, Paran."

Paran must have sensed something in Elon's voice for she stopped what she was doing and turned. Her expression was comforting.

"You're still upset about the slide?"

Elon smiled. She could never fool Paran. Whatever her mood, Paran seemed to sense it and respond accordingly. It was one of the things Elon loved about her. She could be tough when she needed to be, but in her heart she was gentle and loving.

"I was so scared when you fell."

The two young women held eye contact for several minutes. For Elon, it was enough just to be with Paran. When she had learned of Paran's betrothal to Kerr she had taken sick. Then, when Paran had confided her plan to slip away, Elon had improved the plan (she felt). She had taken Amos, her brother's sturdy pony, and laden him with two heavy packs filled with spare clothing and food stuffs. She had even remembered to bring seeds for planting a vegetable garden. Assuming they could find a place to farm.

Suddenly, Paran smiled. Elon liked her smile. She didn't offer it often, but when she did it was like the sun breaking free from behind a cloud.

"You know, I should have made you stay behind. But I am glad you're here."

Elon felt her heart warm. "You need me."

"That I do."

Story Time

2009-10-23T18:51:00.000-05:00

Episode 1001

The stones clattered from beneath the pony's feet and echoed down the hillside. This wasn't a good way to descend, but it was the only way it could get down alive. And it was bad enough they had stolen it without having killed it, too.

Elon put her hand on it's muzzle and spoke comforting words at it, letting it relax before the next effort. She looked at Paran, who was using the respite to test the animal's load.

"Should we go back?" Elon asked.

Paran glanced back the way they had come and shook her head. "It's too late for that. We're committed. Just try to go slow."

Elon nodded and urged the pony onward and downward. Fortunately, the route wasn't entirely made up of loose stones. There were enough places for them to stop and regroup their courage, and look down and realize how foolish they were being. At least they had had enough sense not to try this late in the day. At Paran's insistence they had camped up on the ridge, using the heavy pines as cover. Tonight they would be camping at the base. Assuming they were still alive to camp.

They made poor time, and when the sun rose high above them to laugh at their effort they were hardly half way. And the going only got worse as they went lower. Loose rock had to go some place, and that place was down. So the new pieces they were kicking joined the countless others already covering the lower slopes.

Elon wanted to complain, but what was the point? It wasn't as if Paran didn't already know. And what was to be done about it anyway? They couldn't go back up. Not now.

Just as she was beginning to think they might make it after all she felt her feet slip out from under her. She instinctively let go of the lead rope. That was a good thing, she hoped. At least she wasn't pulling the pony down on top of her.

The noise from her own fall made it impossible to know if either or both Paran and the pony were on their way down with her. And she was falling too fast to look. Fortunately, there were only fifty or sixty feet left before the ground leveled off so it wasn't long before she came to an unpleasant rest. Stones continued to rain down upon her and she warded her head with her arms until she was certain it was over.

She lifted her head and looked up the hill. Paran was trying to hurry the pony down at an angle. At least they hadn't fallen.

"Elon! Are you okay?" Paran called.

Elon got to her knees. "I think so."

"Move away from the debris field, in case we fall, too. I'm hurrying as fast as I dare."

"Don't. I'm okay. There's no need for you to come down like I did. I don't appear to be bleeding, apart from a couple of cuts, and nothing seems broken."

"Then find a place to wait."

The wait wasn't terribly long. In the end, Paran and the pony also slid down, but not nearly so far. The pony had fallen first so Paran came down on top. Also, the pack helped prevent serious injury.

Elon hurried over.

Reflected Attitudes

2009-10-21T10:21:00.001-05:00

The creative arts often have a huge impact on society and its social rules. This is particularly so of video, I think. I also believe the reason for this is that there are loads of people who would never think of picking up a book to read, but who will watch almost anything on television or in the theatre. Movie theatre. I expect the number of live performance attenders is similar to book readers.

Not that there aren't a lot of book readers. There are just more people who don't read book than who do.

But you can see the evolution of things by watching old movies and comparing them with newer issues. There was a lot of religious themes in the early films, although not exclusively. And when Christianity was portrayed it was done in overdramatic fashion. Other religions were put down. Homosexuality was not an overt topic in most Hollywood productions, although there were films to address it.

By the time the fifties came around preachers were almost always portrayed as crazy and/or phony. Gay and lesbian themes were kept in the background, couched with 'in' words and catch phrases that the general public would not understand.

In the sixties and seventies preachers were mostly ridiculous. And so were Gays and lesbians. Gay and lesbian characters were always overt, and always the source of one-line jokes. While this did bring the issue more out in the open, I wonder if it didn't also encourage 'gay-bashing'. I have read of small gangs who would seek out homosexuals in order to beat them up from before this era, so I'm not sure.

Gays and lesbians are still often the focus of humor, particularly on television sitcoms. But it's changing. As more and more people become public about what they believe and how they feel and want to live, society is being forced to acknowledge there are a lot more people who fall within the labels than previously thought.

That's video. What about the written word? What kind of an impact has that had over the years? After all, the written word has existed for thousands of years, while video is barely over one hundred years old. And talkie films are less than one hundred years old. So, how has the written word impacted social mores and such?

To be honest, I don't really know. I am learning through my online research that the subject has been written about for hundreds of years. I also expect there are a lot of stories written in which main characters were GLBT (My research has also shown there are a variety of orders for these letters. I use this order because it's what I'm used to.) Kind of like Abus Dumbledore in J.K.Rowling's, Harry Potter, series. According to Rowling, Dumbledore is gay. And yet the character never behaves or talks in a sexual manner. There are no hints of child molestation or adult affairs**. But then Dumbledore was also monogomous. But he is a natural character, and a favorite.

I expect there are a lot of characters in books which are of a like mold. Their authors saw them as gay, lesbian, or whatever, but didn't make it part of the actual story because that issue had nothing to do with the story. So the differences were subtle. Too sublte to be noticed by most of the reading audience, but probably enough to bring comfort to some. Comfort in the sense of familiarity. Of belonging.

Writing stories has evolved over the centuries. It's harder, I think, to get accepted by major publishers now, but it's easier to write whatever we want to write. And that is good for we who like to write.

** added later for clarification || I do not mean to imply that GLBT people are more prone to child molestation than others. However, it always seemed to me that that was how they were portrayed in the past. My point with J.K.Rowling was that she portrayed Dumbledore as normal.

What I Was and Who I Am

2009-10-20T04:42:00.000-05:00

Got to waxing nostalgic and was thinking about grade school days, and how they differed from junior high and high school.

When I was in grade school (grades 1-6), it was not uncommon at all to see two girls walking the playground arm-in-arm. Or two boys, for that matter. There was lots of hugging to demonstrate close friendship. Generally it was same sex.

This was smiled on and not discouraged in any way by any member of the faculty or staff. They all thought it was great.

All of this changed once we reached seventh grade. Beginning in seventh grade girls were no longer encouraged to hug girls and boys were no longer encouraged to hug boys. And yet they stuck us naked in showers together. That was uncomfortable. For me, anyway. But same sex couples caught hugging, or even holding hands, would be mocked and humilitated - by students, faculty, and staff alike. Then, for those who were part of varsity sports or cheerleading squads, hugs and butt slaps were allowed during victory celebrations, home runs, touchdowns, and goals scored. But you'd better not enjoy it too much.

It's interesting to me that all of us apparently have it within ourselves to put aside our programming - when it suits us.

I wonder if the day will come when it suits most of us all, or at least most, of the time. It would certainly give us one less thing to fight about. And it would make a lot of people's lives a lot easier to live.

There weren't many who bucked the system back then. At my school ALL girls took home economics and ALL boys took shop class. In my six years of junior high and high school only one boy and one girl stood up and forced the school to let them switch. A boy decided he didn't want to learn how to fix cars, make things out of metal and whatnot. He would rather learn how to cook and sew and do things like that. A couple of years later a girl decided she wanted to learn the mechanics and crafts being taught the boys.

Think about that. We had six grades in the school with a total enrollment between 800 and 1,000 students. In six years only two people dared stand up and declare what they wanted.

I wasn't one of them. Wish I had been.

A History of Hatred

2009-10-19T08:36:00.000-05:00

Been reading up on lesbian life in the Victorian and medieval eras. My inspiration for doing this was a website that claimed in Victorian England there were women in 'respectable' society who deemed themselves married, called themselves married, and were treated as married by the rest of society. At the same time, women who indulged in 'affairs' with other women were considered low-life.

Unfortunately, I didn't bookmark the site and I don't recall how I stumbled upon it, so I can't provide a link at this time. But I found it interesting that perhaps we have actually become more narrow in our thinking as time has progressed. My research so far would indicate that no, we're just as narrow-minded as we've ever been, and just as critical of people who don't act (or think, or feel) like us.

Another thing which spawned my interest in Victorian society was remembering a documentary type show I saw a number of years ago about two girls who developed a close friendship. There did not seem to be any sexual behavior between them, but they were 'friendlier than just friends', as their families put it. Eventually they became a scandal and were separated. The one grew up to become an author, or a poet, and I think she was the focus of the documentary. Neither woman would talk about the other, and as I remember the documentary, neither woman was particularly happy with her life after separation.

I finding it interesting that about eight hundred years ago in certain parts of Europe it was women who were seen as the insatiable sex cravers and not men. Men were above that sort of thing. Right.

Well, I don't think that attitude lasted long, because what followed was the belief that women having sexual relations with women was impossible (because there could be no penetration). Right. But this belief hung on for a long time. Still, there were laws made and punishments doled out. The most common punishment was confinement in a nunnery, which explains the reputations some of the nunneries had. I mean, think about it. If you fill a place up with women who prefer women to men it only stands to reason that some of these women are going to fall in love with each other beyond simple friendship. It's really no different than the monastary reputations from the same time, or if one were to confine heterosexuals together.

People are going to fall in love when they meet someone who fills the empty place in their heart.

It's still incredible to me, though, how we, as a (human) race, put so much emphasis on sex and gender. Most people believe we are spiritual beings, meaning our spirit will live on when the body dies. Not everyone believes this, but I think most people do. Just look at how important religion and faith are around the world. So why, if we really aren't our bodies, do we make such a big deal out of what's between our legs and what we do with it? Is it because we have been taught that who and what we are is really defined by what goes on between our legs? Sometimes it seems so.

The research into Victorian and medieval societies is fascinating and I intend to continue my reading. I may stumble again upon that original website, and perhaps I will also find out who the author was. I'm sure she was born in the 1800s. Maybe early 1900s. And I'm thinking she moved to England from Australia, but it's been a long time and my memory is fuzzy.

What Should Writers Know When They Write

2009-10-17T07:46:00.000-05:00

What I probably should be doing is taking a few days between posts to collect my thoughts better, instead of wandering around every day with random thoughts. But for now I'm posting even when I'm not entirely clear in my head what it is I want to say. I hope it doesn't make me too difficult to follow.

I'm thinking more about the fact that writing about sex and writing about lesbian lifestyles do not have to be the same.

Maybe it's just an excuse, so I can tell myself I don't have to write bedroom scenes. Not that lesbian love scenes are any harder (or easier) to write than heterosexual love scenes. I don't write those well, either. The problem I run into is getting so caught up in the physical I forget to include what's really important: the spiritual binding which comes between real lovers, as opposed to sexual partners. I suppose even in mere sexual gratification there is some sort of spiritual binding taking place, but it would be minimal.

The more I write about it the more I find myself wondering if sex isn't merely a red herring. Perhaps what I am really struggling with is writing believable love. For that is what I really want to write. Sex is simply one of many possible manifestations of that love. It's such a controversial topic that it easily can assume center stage. But the real issue is the love which motivates the sex. Without the love there is no story worth reading. With the love it is the anticipation that these two people really belong with each other. Olympia and Aileen (opened my baby name book to two random pages and took the first names I liked) are two women - or I suppose they could be too young to be called women - who meet casually. They are not looking to fall in love. They are not looking for a sexual partner. They just meet and 'click' together, so they continue to meet when they can. They become friends. The friendship blossoms. At some point in time romance enters the relationship.

The truth is, that is pretty boring stuff all by itself. In a story, there has to be more going on. Something, or someone, has to be under challenge, and at least one of the main characters has to be directly involved in resolving the crisis. It is, in fact, this crisis which allows the relationship to build quickly and quietly without being addressed by the women. They are so focused on resolving it that they don't take the time to address their relationship properly. This will ultimately put their relationship at risk, for ignored relationships can fall apart just as quickly as they formed in the first place. The story's climax (I'm sorry, I couldn't think of a better word) is when both crises reach their moment of decision. The external crisis must be solved for good or ill, and the internal, love, crisis, must also be decided.

That, of course, is only one way of doing it. Another would be for Olympia and Aileen to meet and almost immediately begin a physical relationship. In this kind of story the question isn't about sexuality, coming out, or anything like that. The internal crisis is whether or not the relationship is truly a life long relationship, or one which should be broken, and the women go their separate ways.

There are a variety of ways to write the story. The key is very much like other things I've posted about. To write a story there are things a writer must know in her head:

Who is the target audience (women, men, young girls, questioning, timid)
What is the underlying question (sexuality-discovery/coming out, relationship-marriage/just lovers)
What is the focus (love, sex)

I have probably oversimplified the questions, but I think you get the idea. Whether we, as writers, use written down outlines or not, we must have a clear idea of the answers to those questions and questions like them before we can effectively tell our stories.

If our goal is to produce erotica then we certainly should not be writing for young girls, and our focus is clearly going to be more on the sex than the love. And the underlying question is probably less about discovery of oneself than it is about what kind of relationship is going to be established.

If our goal is to explore sexuality then our target audience could be any of the choices, but probably less likely to be men. (That's a prejudice of mine.) The relationship is more in the background and self-discovery and acceptance becomes the focal point. I also believe a story like this is ultimately less about sex and more about love.

There are valid reasons for writing any kind of story for any group of people. But we need to know what it is we're trying to do when we go into a story. Why is this story important to us, as writers? That's probably the biggest question of all.

Who is It For

2009-10-16T07:12:00.000-05:00

Just recently I finished a story and sent it to a good friend of mine. She liked it, but she pointed out a significant flaw. At the start of the story I raised a question, or perhaps a better way to put it here is, I established my main character's primary goal. So, to the reader, the resolution of that goal became the story's focal point. At the end of the story I answered the question of whether my main character would become comfortable with her sexuality, and I did it nicely. At least, that's what I gathered from her critique. However, the question I asked at the beginning was NOT about my main character's sexuality. I did raise the sexuality question, but not at the start.

So the stories biggest flaw was that it was not bookended. I told the reader that one question was most important, and then didn't treat it as important. Meanwhile, I felt the sexuality question was most important but didn't raise it at the start. This made for a nice, but unfulling, story.

To make the story right I have to stop being so coy about my main character's struggles with whether or not she is a lesbian and put it up front and in plain sight from the start. That way the reader knows what she's reading and can better appreciate the main character's conflict as she seeks to learn who she really is.

It's obvious to me that I took the back door approach to the sexuality question because I'm still embarassed to write about it. The very term 'lesbian' seems to bring up connotations of sex, and I'm still embarassed by sex. I'm sorry, but I was taught I should be, and I learned that lesson too well. You know, I still haven't written that explicit sex scene. And nobody would even know about it but me! I'm not really a prude. I just get embarassed.

That the word 'lesbian' should be a sexual word is wrong, I think. I kind of spoke about this, poorly, I know, in my previous post, where I wondered publically what constitutes being a lesbian. A comment brought up the idea that so much of lesbian fiction is very sexual in nature and is actually geared toward heterosexual men, who get off on the idea of women being together. But lesbian stories shouldn't be written for straight men. They shouldn't be written for men at all. Lesbian stories should be written for women. Lesbians in particular. If men, or straight women, enjoy reading, too, so much the better. But they should not be the target audience.

I got to thinking about that, and I wondered if that wasn't the problem I was having with my story. The idea of straight men reading lesbian stories hadn't really entered my thoughts. But in order to see how others wrote love scenes I had been reading a lot of online examples. I quit because it seemed to me so very few were well written at all that I was only filling my head with how NOT to write them. But when the idea that these stories were written to excite the imaginations of straight men, I realized that I felt the same way about them. They did not seem like stories written for women seeking commonality with someone who shared their love preference. But I think all of that reading distorted my thinking about lesbian stories in general. I think I subconsciously forgot my target audience, and I'm not comfortable writing sex stuff for straight men. Or for anybody for that matter.

My stories are supposed to be about finding acceptance, falling in love - love, not sex, and being free to be who one is. And my target audience is women. I need to remember that and forget about the stereotypes. I need to just let my characters be real people, and not animals which are slaves to passion and sexuality. While there are real people who are, they are not the subject of my writing. My writing is not supposed to be about sex, although I want sex to (sometimes) be a part of my stories.

So, between my friend's critique, and the comment on my post, I think I have what I need to fix up my story and make it something people want to and enjoy reading. Any people.

What are the Requirements

2009-10-15T08:44:00.000-05:00

The first I remember being aware of there being anything other than female-male relationships I was in junior high. Whenever anyone was to be severely criticized, or made fun of, inevitiably they were accusing of being queer. I had to ask what this meant and was told it was a girl-girl or boy-boy relationship, depending on what they were. For some, this tag remained with them all the time. For others, it was only while they were in disfavor.

I was some place in between. The only time the derogatory remarks were directed at me was when I was in disfavor (which, I confess, was often). But I learned through the grapevine that should I ever come up as a topic for discussion (not real often) the talk was that I was also queer.

This confused me because I didn't understand why. True, I didn't date. And equally true, I was often friends with others were 'known' to be queer. There were no labels of gay, or lesbian, back then, although the terms were known. The slang at the time was queer. It was always used in a negative sense.

The whole thing confused me because I was the only one not being called it to my face, except in cases of angry disfavor. I didn't understand it then and I'm not sure I understand now. Unless, just being in love can define someone as lesbian (or gay).

I don't mean platonic love, as between relatives or good friends. I mean real love. Romantic love. Just without the sex.

What if two women are deeply in love with each other, but never engage in lovemaking? I remember reading about two such women from the late 1800s or early 1900s. The story is vague in my memory and I don't recall their names. It seems to me that one became a famous author, or poet. The girls had grown up together and everyone knew they were very close friends. But then questions began to be raised about how close their friendship was. There didn't seem to have been any bedroom scenes, but the deepness of their love came under question. People wondered about them. Eventually they were split up, even to the point of living in separate countries. I'm thinking one lived in Australia and the other in England.

These women would have been called lesbians had they shared their bodies with each other. But they only shared their spirits. Their love. Their love was so deep that at least one of them pined away for the rest of her life. But I think they were both very lonely.

But were they lesbians? Does being a lesbian require sexual acts?

And the pining away brings up another point. Why is it that lesbians are viewed as promiscuous? Why is it that only heterosexuals can be viewed as monogomous? I think this is another form of harrassment, sterotyping. It just isn't true. Monogomy is a commitment of will. Why can't lesbians have that?

I remembered reading a long time ago that studies showed each of us meets someone we could fall in love with every four to seven years. It doesn't mean we will fall in love, but we could. But does this deep kind of love require sex? What about people who physically cannot have sex? Does this mean they are incapable of deep, romantic love?

Most of the gay and lesbian friends I have had in my life were unknown to me as gay or lesbian until after we had gone our separate ways. The topic of sex seldom came up in our conversations, I guess. Certainly, I never felt like anyone was coming on to me. Of course, my idea of someone coming on to me is they kiss me like a lover. Subtle things I tend to pass off as my imagination. But I learned of my friends' sexual preferences through other friends afterward. I guess I don't pay close enough attention to the sexual things.

Or maybe I'm just dense.

When It's Safe to Be Counted

2009-10-14T09:33:00.000-05:00

We like to talk about getting along. We like to believe we can. But it's hard, isn't it? And what's so odd about it being so hard is that most of us belong to many different 'groups'. And some of these groups are in conflict with each other. Most of us can be associated with some sort of political affiliation: Democrat; Republican; Green; Other (where Other means you're not specifically identified with any known party, but you are politically aware). We have some sort of connection to relgion: Christian, Muslim, Jew, Buddist, Native American, Agnostic, Athiest, Other (where Other represents some sort of conscious religious attitude - or lack thereof). And of course we have sexuality: straight, bi-sexual, gay, lesbian, transgender, a-sexual, Other (where Other is some new label with which I am unfamiliar).

Belonging to so many groups means we have to decide which group we will align ourselves with when the two groups come into conflict. This can be costly. It can be dangerous. People have been beaten, even killed, for admitting they also belonged to an opposing group. Areas of religion and sex can be the most risky of all.

Of all the groups which fight there are two I feel especially bad about because I have strong personal connections to both: Christians and Lesbians. (Lesbians can be expanded to include all non-traditional sexual types, but this blog is more about women and those who identify themselves with women.)

I would think of all the warring groups these would be the two most likely to come to peace with each other. In most cultures, it is women who are taught from birth to be loving, nurturing, accepting, and helpful. Well isn't that the message of Christians? Aren't Christians constantly talking about God's love - for everyone? So if Christians want to be loving and caring, and women are taught to be loving and caring, why don't they get along?

Well, for one thing, it's a stereotype to say ALL women are loving and caring. I've known plenty in my life who would fail that test miserably. And I've known men who would qualify.

As to Christians, I have known Christians who qualify in the loving and caring category. I have also known plenty who are intolerant, unforgiving, and downright mean.

It seems to me the greater burden is on the Christians. They are playing for what they believe are higher stakes (eternity). Lesbians are just trying to mold the world into a place where they (and their progeny) can live in peace and not be harassed, threatened, beaten, and denied basic rights and priviledges which others enjoy with impunity. Also, and this is the biggie, right now Christians seem to have the greater (political) power by means of the Religious Right (which I do NOT believe is Christian at all). The problem is, the Religous Right is using its power to hurt. This tells me that the wrong Christians are in charge. It can be the same within the Lesbian political structure. Sometimes the wrong Lesbians are in charge.

What I'm trying to say is that I don't think there's anything inheritly wrong with either group. What it comes down to is leadership and followers. We who are not leaders, and perhaps especially those of us who are connected to both groups, need to examine our leaders to make sure they actually represent our group and not just their own idealogy. I think too often we give our leaders free reign. People don't handle that well. Without accountability they usually wander away from their original purpose. And we who let them wander wind up suffering because the rest of the world begins to look at us though we are carbon copies of those leaders who have long since ceased to represent the group and what it really stands for. And why shouldn't they? After all, do we not allow these leaders to continue to lead?

I think we need to quit fighting and hating each other. That does none of us any good and hurts us all. Some physically.

Personally, I think Lesbians (as a group) tend to do a better job of this, although I have met some who are quite mean in their own right. Still, it doesn't hurt to be reminded that accepting Lesbians doesn't mean rejecting other ways of life. Let's not make the pendulum swing to the other side. Let's try and stop it in the middle. Maybe then we can have balance and we can all just be who we are.

As for Christians, I think arguing rights and such with them is a complete waste of time. When Christians are Lesbian-bashing they are feeling very self-righteous and superior. They do not hear contrary arguments. You may as well argue in a foreign language. So there is really only one way to reach Christians - if they can be reached at all. They must be returned to their basic message, which centers around Jesus.

Christians love the phrase, "What would Jesus do?" So when you're being bashed by a Christian, challenge them with Jesus. Not God. Even for Christians I think God can be a lofty concept which allows for all sorts of cruelty and intolerance. But Jesus is specific. He is the foundation for the Christian faith. And from what I've read, Jesus never condemned anyone for anything - except religious people for being hypocrites. So, when Christians behave poorly, bring them to Jesus. No need to be mean. Be to them what they're supposed to be to you. Point out that they aren't acting much like Jesus. If they don't listen to him I guess they're not Christians then. That being said, if you live in a place where doing this puts you in physical jeopardy then I do NOT advocate this. Don't get yourself hurt. People can be crazy. Especially over matters of religion and sex.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't think we can best solve this problem legislatively. Not that I'm against legislation. People need to be protected, and that is best done through legislation. The marriage ban, work benefit packages, inheritance, hospital and nursing home rights, are all things which need to be addressed so nobody in this country is denied simply because of who they are. That means legislation. But to solve things socially is going to require grass roots effort. Individuals have to stand up and behave correctly. This may encourage others in their group to stand up and do the same.

Look at me. I have been quietly reading poems by Sarah L. This encouraged me to not only start up a blog, but to write some poems about my own life. True, this is hardly on the scale of what I've been writing about, but the principle is basically the same. We can inspire others to be better people. So, people like me, who believe they are affiliated with two groups, need to refuse to choose sides when confronted with the choice. We need to stand up and bring the two groups together. But don't put your life at risk. If you don't have the liberty to stand up without being physically hurt, then I think maybe you should stay seated. I would hate for you to be hurt.

But I have this liberty. I will not be beaten. I will not be killed. But I may find members of one (or both) groups rejecting me. Generally, the extremists do this first. Then, if the others become intimidated, they follow. But I can't inspire if I don't at least try.

So I will stand for both. I don't think the two groups are really that incompatible. I really don't.

I think they're just afraid of each other. So if I can help ease fears, maybe they will start liking each other as they should.

I'm a dreamer. No wonder I'm lonely.

Pretty is as Pretty Does, Not How it Looks

2009-10-13T11:38:00.000-05:00

For years I have wondered about myself. What would I really be like if I were comepletely left to my own with no fear of repurcussion?

To be honest, I'm not sure.

I like the frilly daintiness which is assumed with being "pretty". At the same time, I like being "tough".

What I have discovered over time is that "pretty" isn't always what I think it is. I have met more than few people who, at first encounter, strike me as plain, or even unattractive. Then, as I get to know them, they become more and more beautiful. Some have even become sexy. Do I dare blush to say that?

Still, when I imagine myself as being "pretty", I have a definite image in mind. I guess that shows prejudice on my part. For while Tahira (not her real name, but the same meaning) was about the most beautiful person I knew, kind, loving, and gentle in spirit, she was also sixty pounds overweight. And despite the fact that by the time we parted ways I saw her as a very sexy woman because of her spirit, I don't think of Tahira when I think pretty. I feel bad about that, too. But there is physical and there is spiritual. The spiritual is better, but it's hard not to be influenced by the physical.

The concept of who is pretty and who isn't is mean. How many women (and men) have suffered because the world around them declares they are NOT pretty? I remember Tahira coming into the office one day (she was my supervisor, and we shared a small enclosed office with one other) and breaking down and crying. I quickly closed the door so the whole company wouldn't know. When she collected herself she told me why she was crying. She had gone to the store the day before with her little boy. Walking from the car there were teenagers nearby who saw her. They made rude and horrible remarks about how fat she was. It bothered her at the time, although she managed to not cry then. But she couldn't forget it, and now, at work with me, she broke down and released her feelings.

It tortured me to hear that someone so beautiful was being so mistreated. It cut me, because when I had been in school I had done my share of teasing others for being fat. My pennance is that I am now fat. Serves me right, I suppose.

Why did I bring this up? Because I tend to write my main characters as being my idea of pretty. I guess it's because I so want to be pretty, and the only place I can is in make-believe. But part of writing is to be real, so maybe I should consider writing about the poor girl/woman who doesn't fit the world around her's idea of pretty.

The Life of Priscilla

2009-10-12T06:34:00.000-05:00

Daytime soap operas have been around since at least the 1930s. Then they were on radio and sponsored by soap manufacturers. They were dramatic little shows, also known as 'operas'. So that is how they got their name.

I have never been one to get into them much. Some people become very involved with them. One of my grandmothers used to get so mad at a certain woman on some show she watched because the woman was so mean to someone else. To Grandma, watching the soap opera was a kind of voyeurism. I suppose she felt like she were the 'fly on the wall', watching real people live real lives. But you don't have to be a senior citizen to get like that. I have known plenty of twenty and thirty-somethings who are the same way.

When I was young it was assumed one hundred percent of soap opera viewers were women. Subsequent history has proven that to be a false assumption. Plenty of men are just as caught up in the lives of these fictional characters.

The truth is, prime time television series aren't much different. What is different is the time table. Prime time television series provide isolated events in the live of its characters. Soap operas follow their characters almost minute by minute.

I'm not sure how I need to ask this, but can short stories achieve the same thing as a soap opera?

What if I were to create a character, and just follow her daily life and write about it? Like the radio and television soap operas there would be no specific goal to be achieved, or obstacle to overcome. Just the daily things, like having to deal with losing one's job, falling in love, having children, getting divorced, having an affair, learning a new trade.

The key, of course, would be to make the character so interesting that readers would actually care about her, or maybe one of the regular characters around her. I suppose that would be something that might work in a magazine, which attracts readers for others reasons than just to read about the life of Priscilla. (I just opened my baby name book and randomly chose a name that sounded nice.)

Generally when we read a story we are looking for something out of the ordinary. We want something to take us away from the mundane daily life we are living for ourselves. But sometimes, it just might be nice to read about someone else's mundane daily life. Especially if they're kind of like us. So maybe Priscilla is a lesbian. Or bi. Or maybe Priscilla doesn't really know what she is regarding relationships. Maybe she struggles with those because she's still trying to live the life she thinks she's supposed to live. Maybe the life of Priscilla isn't a short story, but rather a long journey.

Is that something worth writing?

Oh. And on a different note, Sarah L has a fantastic post on her blog. Link to it here.

Stuck in the Middle Without You

2009-10-11T07:57:00.006-05:00

In my profile I call myself "genderqueer". When I picked that label I based it solely on a feeling I have inside, and the recommendation of a friend, who actually suggested it to me.

But recently I found a gender test used by psychologists/pschiatrists when counseling patients about gender issues. I'm not seeing a counselor, but I couldn't resist taking the test anyway. What would it tell me? That I'm really a man? That I'm really a woman? What?

There were a lot of questions, and I don't remember but a few of them, but perhaps the greatest indicator of what result was in store for me was this question:

You have the power to change your sex at will. You will be entirely a woman or entirely a man. Which will you be?

There were several choices available, but the one which slammed home to me was:

I would be a woman or a man depending on how I was feeling at the moment.

So do I need to tell you the results from my taking this test? I came out as Androgynous. My internal gender identity is essentially androgynous, both male and female at the same time, or possibly neither.

To tell you the truth, that is exactly how I feel about myself. How did that old commercial go? "Sometimes you feel lke a nut. Sometimes you don't." I have felt all three of those things. I have felt like a man. I have felt like a woman. And I have felt like I was neither a man or a woman. The third case is usually when I start acting "against my sex" and nobody around me will accept the behavior. Then I don't feel like I fit in with anyone.

So, again considering the purpose of this blog, how do I use that in my writing? I should be able to, I think. Will that help me write love stories between women as I want to do, or will the impact be minimal? Or maybe, because I like fantasy, I should write stories in which my main character can change her identity. To be honest, I have been coming up with stories like that since I was in grade school. I've even written one recently where my main character wasn't always the same sex, but it wasn't through an act of her will. (Wasn't done through surgery, either. It is a fantasy story which I won't go into now.)

If the test was accurate and my feelings are true, then it looks like I'm some place in the middle. (At least on the inside.) I do tend to lean more toward female, but I'm not sure how much more. But if I create a main character who is neither female nor male, will readers identify with her? (Should I say 'her'?) After all, we like to find the right pigeonhole for people so we can interact properly with them. Maybe its just time we built more pigeonholes. The two we have don't seem to be serving everyone well enough anymore.

I can sing the Steelers Wheel song with new enthusiasm now.

Just a Work Friend

2009-10-10T05:35:00.000-05:00

Sarah L posted a comment on my previous post that kind of struck a cord with me. It made me feel guilty and ashamed of myself. I tried writing a post about it but I had to delete everything I wrote because I wasn't getting my message across. I guess I don't know how to say it. But I'm going to try again.

Basically, it comes down to this: Why do people feel this horrible need to be mean and cruel to people who are different from them? And why do we try to force everyone around us to be like us?

Again, because this blog is specifically devoted to discussions about women-to-women relationships, I will confine my thoughts to lesbians and bis. Why do we have to be so cruel? And why did I allow myself to be part of that cruelty for so long?

When I was growing up I was taught in church we are supposed to love other people. That is in the Bible. I've read it myself many times. But why was this addendum added? "If they are like the established norms we have created." That is NOT in the Bible. I know. I've read it cover-to-cover several times. A few times looking specifically for that message. It isn't there. So why are we teaching it?

I was not taught to love people who are different than me. I was taught to love people who were like me. Conversely, this also meant that if I wished to be loved, I had to be like the people around me. I had to say the things they said. I had to do the things they did. I had to wear the clothes they said were appropriate for my age and sex. In fact, I remember punishments I received which involved clothing. I would have to wear clothing belonging to a younger age and the opposite sex. This was to show the world around me how 'bad' I was.

And so I would join in and harass people who were "different". Generally, this meant holding boys who didn't "act like boys" and girls who didn't "act like girls" in utter contempt. Inevitably, these children would be pushed into one of two areas. Either they became complete loners, waiting for the day when they could leave our small town rural community and go hide in the city, or they joined the majority and acted like they did. I did the latter. As much as I could.

But you know what? People seem to sense when someone is only pretending, and the older I got, the harder it became to fit in. I became more uncomfortable with things like harassment and began walking away from it. Did you know that if you don't join in with harassment you are somehow guilty of a crime in the minds of those who do? It wasn't until I became older that I found the strength to admit, not just to myself, but to others, that I don't hate people who are different from me. For one thing, I'm not so sure anymore that "they" and I are that different from each other after all.

I commented back to Sarah L that I now openly challenge people who make fun of, or laugh at the discomfort of, GLBT people. It's kind of become a one-person crusade to stand up against the same people who I grew up with and tell them they are wrong. Something I should have done all my life. But didn't. What I find comforting is that a couple of the people I have been challenging seem to have changed their tune (at least around me). Maybe they never wanted to be part of it either, and now that I have challenged them they are relieved they don't have to be that way anymore. Maybe I'm deluding myself. Listening to all the hate messages in the news I would say I am.

I look back on my past and I see certain patterns emerge. At the time I remember only vaguely wondering about it. Now it fills more of my thought.

Why was it that the boys who were attracted to boys, and the girls who were attracted to girls, found me as a person to be friends with? This began in my high school years, after I had quit joining the public harassing. But even after school, when I would be at work, if there was a gay, bi-sexual, or lesbian in the company, they seemed to find me and we would become work friends. (Work friends are people you only talk to at work. You go to lunch together, and sit next to each other in company meetings and at company events, but you don't socialize apart from work.) Often, their sexual orientation was only a rumor, and seldom did they ever talk to me about it. Sometimes they did, but mostly we were just work friends. Often I was the only work friend they had.

I find myself wondering about it. For one thing, I find it interesting that, as I became friends with the gay, bi, lesbian people who had sought me out, the non-gay, non-bi, and non-lesbian people wanted less and less to do with me.

I think I know now what I am trying to say with this post. I'm trying to say, "I'm sorry", to a lot of people who befriended me, and with whom I was embarassed to be friends. Yes, I was their work friend. I wasn't mean to them. I didn't avoid them. But I was embarassed to be seen with them. How awful I've been. And do you know what's the stupidest part of it? All of my life the one thing I have wanted more than anything else is to be loved and accepted for who I am. And guess what? The people who I was embarassed to be seen with were giving me exactly that. And I never saw it. And now they are all gone from my life. I never socialized with any of them. Instead, I have lived a lonely life. And I'm not talking sex! I'm talking love. I should have loved them back. Because you know what? I think that's all they wanted, too. I didn't give it to them. I was just a work friend. And I'm sorry.

Don't Make Normal Unusual

2009-10-09T01:13:00.001-05:00

I've read a lot of books, short stories, and such, and I've watched a lot of movies and television shows. And do you know what just irks me to no end? It when the writer of said book, short story, movie, television show, or such, wishes to show us how normal their lesbian women are by "telling us they're normal". Maybe it's just me, but if the writer feels she needs to go out of her way to tell us something, then it seems pretty clear to me that she doesn't think it's normal.

To me, if a writer is going to write a story (screenplay) about lesbian women, and she wants it to be natural, then don't tell people it's natural, just treat it as natural. If we, as writers, don't make a big deal out of something, our readers should grasp fairly early on it isn't a big deal.

That's the way I want some of my stories to be. That the women are in love, or even married, is not integral to the story. It's just a part of it, like having a heterosexual main character. Maybe she's married. Maybe she has a boyfriend. As a writer we would never think about making a big deal that she's married to a man, would we? Then, if the story doesn't call for it, don't make a big deal that she's married to a woman.

At the same time, I angst about things a lot, and so for a good many of the stories I have been writing the fact that my main character is in love with a woman is important to the story. I recently wrote one in which my main character had to flee her village because she had been discovered with her lover. A friend arrived in the night and helped her escape before the lynch mob arrived. The story followed her flight to a new village, where she had to begin her life anew, only to find a new partner and be caught again.

I suppose there are those who would criticise my main character for becoming involved with another woman so soon after being separated from her previous lover. But the truth was there was no reason for her to believe she would ever see her previous lover again. The friend who helped her escape could not even guarantee her lover got away. Besides, one thing I know for certain from personal experience is this: lonely people are incredibly susceptible to love. We are not promiscuous people. We just want to be loved. And depending on the level of loneliness, and the number of hurts inflicted, we can do a lot of things if we even slightly believe we are loved. And so I felt my character was in character. For who is lonelier than the person whom no one accepts?

I guess I kind of strayed from my original point. Now I'm writing about angst. But angst is important to me right now.

While searching for a place where I might be able to submit some of my work for possible publication I came across something a man wrote about coming out stories. He said he was sick of them. He was tired of the angst and all that went with it. He wanted stories about gay people who were already comfortable with themselves. I understand his point. But at the same time there are a lot of people who are still struggling with who they are. Angst is very much a part of our lives. So I don't think there is no longer any need for such stories. I mean, old-fashioned romance novels are still selling like hot cakes after one hundred years. Right?

Why are We Taught to be Ashamed of Who We Are

2009-10-08T06:37:00.000-05:00

I'm going to take Sarah's advice. Haven't yet. Kind of timid. But I'm going to do it. I'm going to write a fleshy, down-and-dirty, love scene. Going to use all the words I can think of. Just because. Just to say I wrote them. Just so I can look at it afterward and say, "I wrote that." And not, "I wrote that?" Won't be posting it here, that's for sure. What Sarah said was to keep this one secret. This is just a break out piece. Once that's done perhaps I can write something a bit more tame? More in line with what actually turns me on. I'm blushing writing that. I know I am. My neck feels warm.

It's funny about sex, isn't it? I don't mean "funny ha-ha". I mean funny, as in strange. Well, that was probably a bad way of putting it, too. I don't mean strange sex, I mean talking, or writing, about sex is so different than talking or writing about anything else. I find it far easier to confess my failures as a person, an employee, a parent, a child, a sibling, a friend, an athlete, a writer, a singer, a performer, or anything else, than to admit my failures regarding sex. I can talk about those other things, usually without blushing, with complete ease. But as soon as sex becomes the topic I'm blushing.

Is it me, or am I just the product of how I was raised? How I was raised seems a bit too easy, although it certainly has to come into play. Maybe it's because so much of the punishment I endured as a child was sexual in nature. One wasn't just spanked, one had their pants pulled down. Generally in public. Bedwetters were publically diapered and laughed at. That was the thing, you know. Punishment not only involved physical pain, but emotional pain always had to accompany it. Humiliation was the order of the day. And it always seemed to revolve around sex somehow.

And so we grow up with all kinds of inhibitions about sex. Taste a beer and one might get into trouble. What was the standard punishment for trying beer and cigarettes when I was young? "Make 'em drink until they get sick." "Make 'em smoke until they're ill." No one ever did that with sex. Get caught masterbating, or worse, experimenting with someone else, and the cry certainly wasn't, "Make 'em f--- until they throw up." No. The whole thing was treated as though it was the worst shameful act that could happen. More beatings and more humiliations.

And so we learn to keep it secret. That's private. Hell, I find it easier to talk about problems going to the bathroom than I do problems about sex. I suppose that's fine, but I want to write. I really do. And if I'm going to write something that seems real, I have to write in a way that presents whatever I write about as being real. And so I have to get past the past - without actually forgetting it. There is great value in remembering the pain. The shame. The anguish. The utter humiliation. Remembering these things helps me write characters who are experiencing pain, shame, anguish, and utter humiliation.

But how do I write a character who is comfortable with her sex, her sexuality, and her sexual preference (be it straight, bi, or lesbian, or whatever) when I am not so sure I am comfortable with those things for myself? I find myself envying those people who have come to terms with who they are regarding sex in all its forms. I think, if I could just be at peace with who and what I am I just might be able to write the things I want to write. But it's this shame thing. Still, maybe I can use that, too. Maybe that's where the tenderness comes from. The loving compassion which, to me, absolutely has to be part of good sex. If I could just put my feelings into it.

Meanwhile, I have an assignment. Going to write some rough, fleshy, down-and-dirty sex scenes. I doubt I'll find them arrousing, but the ice will be broken and maybe I can get through to the other side.

Good luck to me, huh?

Why Be Afraid and Embarrassed

2009-10-07T03:35:00.000-05:00

So I thought I would expand the idea of being "jarred" out of the story because of the way a love scene has been written.

Being taken out of the story can happen for other reasons than love scenes. Explicit anything can do that if it isn't done correctly. This is true with gore, profanity, humor, infodumping, etc. But as this blog seeks to discuss love scenes and such in particular I will confine my comments to that.

When I read a story I always try to identify with a character. Usually this will be the main character, but not always. Sometimes one of the supporting cast catches my fancy and I really identify with her (or him, or even it). Generally, the only character to get a love scene is the main character and whoever she is with. In these cases I identify with the main character.

For me, identifying with a character in a love scene means I am imagining myself doing/receiving whatever the main character is doing/receiving. This is where I suppose love senes become especially difficult. If the main character does something I haven't done (or thought of doing), I might recoil. The same is true if the main character has something done to her. This is where personal sensibility can get in the way of good writing, I think.

For instance, suppose I want my main character to be a wild and bold person, willing to try a variety of things. What happens when I put her into love scenes? The likelihood is I become personally embarrassed by her boldness. For just as when I read, when I write I have to "become" the characters. I have to know who is shy and timid and who is dominant and daring. I have to be able to write people who aren't me. With other characteristics it seems I have little trouble doing this. I don't think of myself as being a hateful person, but I think I can write hateful people. I think I can write cruel well enough. But when it comes to sex I'm embarrassed. Here is where I'm afraid to trust my imagination. Why?

I kind of wonder if it isn't because sexual things are so personal. In a way, it's like they cut to the core of who we are. And so the unspoken voice in my head is reading over my shoulder as I write. Everthing is fine. There are occassional comments about this or that. And then I write the love scene. "You find that erotic? That's sick/stupid/dumb/strange/etc."

I could write what I have actually done myself, but then the voice might say, "You did what? And you found that arousing? You don't really do that when you climax, do you?"

It's just so personal. But isn't that what makes a written character come alive? Is writing as much about courage as it is about knowing how to say something?

Can You Write a Love Scene

2009-10-05T20:43:00.000-05:00

I'm up during the night a lot. It's when I do some of my best writing.

Lately I have been exploring new relationships in my writing; mainly, lesbian and bi-sexual characters. I have never written about sexual things before. In fact, I have been quite conservative in my stories until the last couple of years. But this year I seem to have awakened a creative area I never knew I had, and I find it most exciting. Even exhilirating.

Don't get me wrong. I don't want to write pornography, and I don't think I can write erotica. But loving relationships. That I think I can do. But love scenes are part of loving relationships - or can be. I've been struggling with those a bit. To be honest: I haven't been all that successful.

If anyone has any thoughts, I am more than willing to hear them. How does one write an arousing love scene without becoming pornographic? I don't want to abandon my new world of creativity. I want my women to love each other. But I want them to be real about it.