How To Make A Radically Subversive Feminist Tract

Apparently, all you need to do is film an extended chase scene where you treat women as people.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m tickled pink at the prospect of an action movie where women are allowed to  be humans who act, not prizes to be won or unattainable war goddesses, but really? This is where we’re at?

You make a flick where Charlize Theron can say of her role:

“We had a filmmaker that understood the truth of women is powerful enough and we don’t want to be put on pedestals or made to be unnaturally strong.”

And people are like slow down there, Judith Butler!

You make a flick where the director can say

the thing that people were chasing was to be not an object, but the five wives. I needed a warrior. But it couldn’t be a man taking five wives from another man. That’s an entirely different story. So everything grew out of that.

And all of the sudden it’s hold your horses Simone de Beauvoir!

The world cannot handle this much feminism! You’re going too far! Too fast!

Next you’ll be talking about socially constructed gender roles!

This Is Not The Supergirl We Asked For

Watch the trailer here. Try not to cringe too much.

My main problem with this Supergirl trailer is that they make her ephemeral, weightless. She’s got no emotional mass, just a silly little girl who above all must not be allowed to threaten male egos. She gets put down by that military dude and just sort of takes it, crumples up and starts to cry in her apartment. Are you fucking kidding me? She can arm-wrestle a jetliner out of the sky, but some military dude being mean to her makes her want to quit? That’s absurd. Ridiculous. Insulting. I could totally see a man treating her like that; I don’t at all see why she should let it get to her. Except of course she does, because a man needs to have power over her, at least once in this trailer. (Well, several times, actually.) Because that’s Hollywood. Because that’s what they think we mean when we say we want female superheroes. Because they can’t conceive of a sympathetic woman who also takes life on her own terms and accepts no bullshit.

The only woman in this trailer (well, short film, to be honest) who is allowed to have emotional power, drive, and confidence is her unbelievably bitchy boss who is clearly coded as a negative character. I’m not saying I want a grimdark Supergirl, but come on, can we have someone who can bench press a tank–and has known this about herself for years–maybe not be a neurotic insecure mess for no reason? Can we have her be confident, and embracing her attempt to live a “normal” life as just another challenge she knows she can overcome rather than a way to undercut her and make her look nonthreatening? What’s wrong with having a Supergirl who has a zest for life because she knows she can fly and fight and save people, who revels in her power and her ability to help people, and who chooses to live as close to normal as possible because it helps her relate to these funny little mortals with their frail little bodies who she loves so much?

BUT NOPE! Gotta have her be insecure coffee girl with mountains of hesitation. Gotta make her “relatable.” Not threatening. Not awe-inspiring. Yeah, sure, she’s basically a literal goddess compared to the people around her, but let’s not focus on that. Let’s focus on her not being able to fly around corners quickly without wearing a cape! Ha ha! So cute and endearing! Let’s focus on her accepting a crappy job when she knows she can be so much more. Let’s focus on her unaccountable hesitation to experiment with her powers throughout her entire adolescence so that she only knows for sure that she can fly when she’s forced to do so. Let’s pretend that a girl who can get herself up into orbit just to enjoy the view would decide not to for no good reason, would decide to let her cousin handle all the heroics and test his powers, but not want to join him, the one other person on the planet who could really understand what life was like for her. Above all, let’s do everything in our power to ensure that the male viewers don’t feel inadequate or threatened by a power fantasy that they can’t explicitly relate to, because that, my friends, would be the worst thing ever.

This is not what we mean when we say we want female superheroes. Her interiority has been completely sacrificed on the alter of making her “relatable.” Her motivations are muddled, her characterization hamstrung. Would we accept this from Arrow, or Flash? Would we consider it an acceptable interpretation of Batman, or Superman? Even (to cross continuities) Peter Parker, the poster child of “superheroes with problems” isn’t hollowed out so thoroughly. A character who is predicated on POWER is not allowed to have any that isn’t safely contained and wrapped in a treacly candy shell of girls-are-so-neurotic bullshit.

Social Justice Discourse Fallacies

Way back in ’03, Michael Suileabhain-Wilson came out with some excellent advice on social relations within nerdery circles that remains as valuable and useful today as it was then. These observations were couched in terms of failure modes that he’d seen infect and destroy friendship circles over and over again–the Geek Social Fallacies. If you haven’t read them, I strongly recommend you go check them out.

With those in mind, I’d like to submit my own take on a similar array of fallacies that have wormed their way into online activist spaces, and many of the loose circles that are associated with them. For ease of reference, you could count them as SJDF1-6.

SJDF1 “Tone Arguments Are Bullshit, Therefore I Can Treat You Like Something I Found In A Sewer.”

There is a long history of people in power using civility as a weapon to silence dissent from the status quo. How else can you describe parents who subject their children to conversion therapy but as cruel, abusive, perhaps even murderous? How can you describe a governor who would force a woman to endure having an object inserted into her vagina against her will–which meets the definition of rape, by the way–as a precondition to undergoing a perfectly legal medical procedure, except to say that he’d rather see women get raped than be able to control their own bodies?

These are uncivil things to say. They are condemnations in the harshest terms I can muster. But they are also fair assessments of the behaviors of some respected members of American society. (If you’re not American, you can probably think of things in your own country that fit this description.)

People who are happy with the status quo invoke incivility and bad manners as a way to stifle dissent. If you cannot describe the crime, then you cannot fully describe the scope of the injustice. As long as false civility and pleasant discourse is valued over human dignity, injustice remains intractable.

This is doubly troubling because the people who suffer under systemic injustice often have years, decades even, of anger about the treatment they’ve been subjected to. Their dignity has been sabotaged again and again. They may have suffered materially, getting locked in a cycle of poverty or subjected to physical violence. These things create anger, and that anger is wholly justified. The mantra of civility is used to put a lid on that anger, to again help deny the scope of the injustice and the urgency of reform. Anger can be a powerful tool, a motivator not quite like any other, and stripping people of that tool through the use of social convention can only perpetuate further injustice.

All of the above being true, you probably shouldn’t call someone a shitlord.

There is a reason that Tumblr (and more recently, Twitter) has gained a reputation for being full of shrill misanthropes who cut anyone and everyone to rhetorical shreds at the earliest opportunity. It’s the same reason so many people get frustrated with trying to follow the newest, most boutique anti-oppressive vocabulary. It’s because a lot of people hold onto this idea that just because anger can be righteous, that it must necessarily always be so. Somehow the well-founded observation that an obsession with civility is often a defensive strategy of the over-caste has mutated into a cancerous notion that the deliberate lack of civility, of manners, of basic respect and courtesy, must therefore be somehow more honest, more genuine, more radical, and more conducive to progress. And it’s not just the perceived members of the privileged elite who are subjected to this treatment–most social justice flame wars that I’ve witnessed were civil wars. The eagerness with which some toxic communities gather to pillory the poor newbie or outsider who wandered onto the battlefield can be understood to be a sort of collective sigh of relief that, oh good, finally here’s someone we can all stomp on together, as a community.

It is this attitude more than any other, I think, that has caused the very term “social justice” to become loaded with poisonous connotations. Allowing deliberate rhetorical cruelty to stand in for honesty and intellectual rigor is perhaps the greatest own-goal that social progressives have made in generations. Being inappropriately polite might put you in the wrong, but being rude does not make you right. For some reason, this simple distinction has been lost. And so, again and again, we witness people come to the understanding that injustice exists, seek out an education on what they can do to come to grips with and combat the problem, and then flee in horror just a few years later, burnt out, emotionally scarred, and having accomplished little if anything of value.

SJDF2 “Intent Isn’t Magic, Therefore It Is Irrelevant.”

Along with the corrosive use of civility as a weapon to stifle dissent, there is a long tradition of acting as if inadvertently harming someone means that the harm was not done, or that it didn’t matter, or that no effort was required to rectify the offense. If a bunch of white people make a black person feel uncomfortable without realizing it, the logic goes, then it’s the black person’s responsibility to not make a scene because it’s not like they intended any harm.

Clearly, this is bullshit.

So people who criticize the way the social status quo harms and marginalizes anyone who doesn’t fit the straight-white-guy mold have developed a phrase to counter this line of argument: “Intent isn’t magic.” That is, your good intent does not undo the harm you inflict unintentionally. You still must take responsibility for the negative consequences of your actions, even if they were made with the best of intentions. And this is a really good notion and one that is important to keep in mind when you are surprised to learn that someone is upset with you over something you thought was innocent. If your intentions truly are that pure, you will want to know when you’re hurting people so that you can stop doing that.

But don’t go too far the other direction, as so many Twitter commandos do, and completely discount the importance of intent entirely. There is even an implication in some circles that pointing out that you didn’t intend to hurt someone’s feelings is inherently a disingenuous defense. And so the difference between an accident or ignorance and specific, intentional malice gets erased. There are no more accidents, only attacks.

When combined with SJDF1 the results can be explosive, and for the person who stepped on the landmine, bewildering. Nobody comes away from one of these incidents a better person, aware of their shortcomings but committed to change. They come away from it with the idea that people who use the word “privilege” are dangerous drama bombs who must be avoided.

SJDF3 “Offending My Deeply Held Convictions Is Indistinguishable From Material Harm.”

This is the same attitude that leads people to think that it is reasonable to make broad, sweeping judgements about the moral content of someone’s character based on a few tweets that might have gone out while they were upset or drunk or whatever. This attitude is similar to SJDF2, in that it attempts to erase the distinction between differing levels of offense. Suddenly, being called a dirty word is the same as being punched in the mouth, is the same as being evicted unjustly, is the same as being murdered. The Internet has a way of erasing fine distinctions, of making all statements equally urgent, and a way of bringing stimuli that we may not want directly into what we perceive as our territory, our emotional turf. And that can hurt, but does it actually harm you to see someone say or do something you find abhorrent? Does it take food from your mouth or put you on the street? Did that off-color joke doxx you or send slanderous emails to your boss? Gamergate made it impossible to deny that things people say and do on the Internet can be genuinely harmful, even evil, that’s absolutely true, but not everything that pisses you off is on the same scale as Gamergate.

In a broader sense, there’s going to be things that happen on TV or in movies or in comic books that you don’t like. There will always be skuzzy corners of the Internet where you don’t want to go. That’s inevitable. Some of it will offend you on moral grounds. You might have very strong arguments for why people shouldn’t like that stuff. You may be bummed that people are buying, consuming, and spreading around media that contains messages or subtext that you find disagreeable, or even destructive. That’s the price of living in a free society.

This doesn’t mean accept the status quo and never work for change, far from it, not at all. Speaking for myself, I wanted to see more female characters at the center of their own stories, so I started writing deliberately feminist fiction. But the best I can hope to do is provide an alternative. (As an aside, I’ve come to the conclusion that working for a positive change is almost always the more productive option, because it is only with positive momentum that you will pull people along in your wake.) There will always be people who disagree with me, who value different things than I do, and as long as that’s true, there will be folks catering to different tastes–and even differing moral systems–than mine. At some point, we all have to choose if we want to accept that price, or if we want to forever be carrying around a sense of aggrievement that somewhere, somebody is doing something we wish they wouldn’t.

Think really hard about if you want to be the same kind of person who wishes the only thing allowed on TV was Wholesome Christian Programming that didn’t offend their values.

SJDF4 “It Is Always Appropriate, And Indeed Necessary, For Me To Publicly Call You Out.”

There is an appropriate time, place, and manner for anything. As a community, we can no longer discount the power of an outrage storm sparked by some well meaning tweets. Again and again, people who made innocent (or maybe not so innocent) mistakes have been subjected to a kind of public scouring that was all out of proportion to their initial offense. Combined with the the way the prior two fallacies tend to erase any distinguishing scale or quality between showing a little embarrassing ignorance and screaming in a bullhorn that Hitler did nothing wrong, it is far, far too easy for drama to spiral out of control and destroy entire communities.

If you feel a need to speak up, by all means do so, but remember that ten thousand people probably share your opinion as well, and what seems like a thirty second investment to you–make a tweet and close the tab–might be part of an hours long ordeal for the person you’re calling out. Is what they did really worth having ten thousand strangers show up on their virtual doorstep with picket signs and bullhorns? (Hint: it almost certainly is not.)

Worse, any community that allows this ethos to take hold is basically inviting trolls into their midst. Trolls love destroying people for no good reason, and an ethos that says we must all keep our little red books close at hand and be ready to denounce the counterrevolutionaries at any opportunity is like a luxury resort to the Internet’s shit-stirring contingent.

Sometimes it is better to let a few mistakes slide or have a quiet word in private than to blow up the whole conversation. Sometimes this isn’t possible or it’s possible but inappropriate, so we have to be willing to have these conversations in public, absolutely. If that’s your only realistic option for redressing injustice, then maybe that’s what you’ve got to do. But we must strive to exercise good judgement and compassion (for all involved parties–compassion does not mean giving a free pass, nor does it mean sacrificing your own dignity) when we decide how we’re going to have these discussions. Remember the amplifying effect of social media, and how conversations can be stripped of context, sensationalized, and spun into something very different than what you intended. If you need to have a difficult conversation in public, go for it. But superficial point-scoring or public pillorying should not be our default mode of conflict resolution.

SJDF5 “Privilege Is A Linear Scale, And Those At The Bottom Are Always Right.”

Nope. Nuh-uh. I’m a trans woman, which places me in one of the most stigmatized and at-risk demographics in the world. But I’m also a college educated white chick with a steady job. A straight, cisgender man who happens to be black has a lot more to worry about in regards to discrimination than I do–at the very least, I can attempt to pass as cis, but he cannot change the color of his skin. I can also speak to police officers without being overly concerned that I’m in imminent peril of being shot. Privilege isn’t a quantifiable resource, that some have and others are denied, that can be measured and ranked on a simple scale. It’s not like you come out of the closet then deduct 10 points from Gryffindor. It’s complicated, and contextual, and murky as hell.

Conversely, those who do have high levels of privilege, who come close to that archetypal boogieman of the clueless straight white dude, are not responsible for all of society’s ills on a moment to moment individual basis. If I get into an argument with a cis man, I can’t hold him–as an individual–to account for the fact that I have to live in a cis-centric society that rigidly polices my gender and appearance. The challenges and discrimination I face (and yes, I’ve been discriminated against, at times to my great detriment) are not tokens to be cashed in for moral authority during an argument. Conversely, the mere holding of social privilege (privilege that by its nature is unasked for) isn’t sufficient grounds to discount what someone says.

But too often, that’s exactly how concepts of privilege and discrimination are invoked, and it can feel like a Kobayashi Maru to be on the wrong side of this kind of a dynamic. That doesn’t lead to progress or education or even just the ability to maintain a livable environment where people are not walking on eggshells all the time. And if you think this dynamic can’t be turned against you, that you’re so far down on the ladder that this kind of logic can only help you, then not only are you belittling the struggle, you’re setting yourself up to find out just how wrong you are in the most painful way possible.

SJDF6 “My Safety Is Your Responsibility.”

No it isn’t. Your safety is your own responsibility. Sure, everyone should do their best not to harm others, but eventually you must take responsibility for your own experience of the world. If you don’t, someone else will make those decisions for you, and they won’t be made with your best interests at heart.

Does taking responsibility mean that nothing bad will ever happen to you? No, obviously not. Nor does it mean that bad things that happen to people are somehow inherently their fault. What I’m talking about here is the attitude that other people should take responsibility for you–but that you shouldn’t have to.

Twitter is, by default, a public forum. So is Facebook. So are most blogs and most of Tumblr. These places are not your safe space. (I don’t really think safe spaces exist, though that’s a debate for another day; what is clear to me is that considered spaces are the best anyone can hope for outside of their skull.) Anyone who logs in signs an implicit social contract, and part of that is to handle your own shit. Too often I have seen people try to outsource their emotional management onto others, using (and abusing) the language of harm as a justification for not taking responsibility for themselves.

This can go as far as conflating safety with comfort, and in conjunction with some of the other faulty assumptions described here, can lead to incredibly unhealthy drama. In the bizzaro world of a social justice discourse gone toxic, it can seem as if when someone does something–like use a common word in a certain way–that makes someone else uncomfortable, suddenly they’re an abuser. (This goes hand in hand with SJDF2, and the presumption that all harm must have been intentional, or may as well have been.) This is nuts, but I’m really not exaggerating how this dynamic can play out.

And of course it goes without saying that when two people operating on these rules of engagement meet, fireworks of the energetically unpleasant sort are not far behind.

If you want to be a good citizen of the Internet, get your skin as thick as you can manage it. Be as generous and forgiving a spirit as you can manage. And when things are too much and your armor is wearing thin, tap out. It’s okay. Self care is always an acceptable option. Just as your safety is your responsibility, you don’t owe anyone shit when it comes to looking after yourself. This isn’t meant to cut anyone down–it’s meant to be empowering. Everyone has the tools to look after themselves, at least in a basic way (obviously sustained harassment and doxx campaigns are a whole different kettle of fish) and everyone should feel empowered to use those tools for their own benefit.

So there you have it, the main social justice discourse fallacies that I see kneecapping progressives online again and again. I firmly believe that we are in the midst of a wonderful transition to a fairer and more just society. It’s wonderful that previously disenfranchised groups are finding venues online to make themselves heard. But I also believe that we are in great danger of a major backlash if we do not address the root causes of this pernicious problem we face, this tendency for the language and ethos we use to advance the cause of justice to instead make us all feel unsafe.

Because you’ve felt it to, haven’t you? That lurking dread that someday, you’ll put a toe out of line, that something you did and always thought was harmless will be ruled problematic, and then there’s blood in the water and no help in sight.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

 

More Thoughts

Checking all the Progressive boxes is not more important than doing something raw, and honest, and true.

It’s possible for something to not jibe with the current social justice discourse consensus, and still be brilliant, and beautiful, and valuable.

Do not measure artistic quality by how closely it aligns to the latest political vocabulary pack. Get over rough language. Move past being anxious about speaking to everybody–it’s hard enough to truly speak to yourself.

It’s braver to be deeply honest about one facet of the world than it is to try and get nothing wrong about everything.

I feel like there’s something coming, some idea I’ve been groping towards for months. Feeling around the edges until I find enough of a grip to heave it up out of the mud.

Fuck The Representation Debate

These are unformed thoughts that I’m still working through, but I want to get them out there:

Can we please move past the tedious circle of arguing about the need for greater representation of women and minorities in fiction? It’s important. There. That‘s a solved question.

What’s more important, and far more interesting I think, is what you do once you’ve decided that your narrative defaults are going to represent the world as it is–a place where white men are a global minority. It’s actually a real easy switch to make, and there’s no excuse not to.

But once you’ve done that, where do you go from there? Can representation be an artistic goal in and of itself?

NO. NOT EVEN FUCKING CLOSE.

You know what happens if you make diverse representation your main artistic objective? You get the left-wing equivalent of the runny gruel that passes for Evangelical Christian “alternatives” to mainstream culture.

At this point, I think it’s more feminist to make art about women that’s grungy, rude, painful, and raw than it is to pound your chest about how many times you pass the Bechdel Test. Having representation of a diverse population is literally the very least you can do–letting it be your gold standard is to embrace mediocrity. It should be a prerequisite, not an achievement.

Twenty Years On

Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic Hermione Granger-Weasley unlocked her front door and shut it behind her with a sigh.

“How was work, honey?” asked Ron from the living room. He was always in the living room, transfixed by the television. Hermione regretted buying it; she should have made a clean break from the Muggle world. At least she’d managed to keep her mouth shut about the Internet.

“Beastly. The Americans are making noise, and I think the French are getting ready to back out. This summit is going to be a disaster.” She let out a breath, and with it as much stress as she could. “How was your day?”

“I made sandwiches,” Ron announced proudly.

Big News!

I’ve got an agent! I am now represented by Saritza Hernandez of the Corvisiero Agency! I completely forgot to put up a post about it here because I’ve been so inundated with a sudden flurry of activity about Dreadnought now that I’ve got an agent. (Did you know there’s a lot of work that happens immediately after signing with an agent? There is. There is SO much, but it’s more exciting than drudgery because holy crap things are finally happening!)

One of the major things that’s underway is planning for a new website which will be at aprildaniels.com. There’s nothing there now, but in a few weeks this blog and all its content will mosey on over to that URL.

I’ve also been completely snowed in by a HUGE PILE of research as I get ready to work on my next project. I’m not quite ready to announce what it is, but I think you’ll all be quite excited when I am. My agent sure is. (Guys! I’ve got an agent!)

Anyhow! Excited!

How does Steven Moffat keep getting work?

“There’s one thing you should never put in a trap–”
“A wolf? A trapped wolf is dangerous to get out of your trap.”
“What? No. Me.”
“Why is it dangerous to put you in a trap?”
“Well…because I’m the Doctor…”
“So?”
“So I’m very dangerous when I’m trapped.”
“But not when you’re free?”
“That’s not what I–”
“Look, if you’re not dangerous when you’re free, then how do you keep getting trapped?”
“I don’t KEEP getting trapped!”
“Then how has it happened so often that you have a rule about it?”
“Hold on, let’s start again from the beginning…”
“Right. So, wolves.”
“Not wolves! Me! I’m dangerous to put in a trap!”
“But not more dangerous than you are when you’re free.”
“Correct.”
“So how do you keep getting captured?”

Take Your Advantages Where You Can Find Them

So, I’m not a published author. In fact, I’m given to understand that my lack of publishing credits means I shouldn’t claim to be an author, but a writer instead. Being an author is something I’ve wanted so bad I can taste it, and for so long I can barely remember what it was like before I had this ambition. Raymond Chandler allegedly said that to be any good at this, you’ve got to write a million words of crap. In my (very rough) estimation, I’m probably at the 750,000 mark.

127,000 of those are included in the manuscript I just finished, which is a sequel to 118,000 other words I wrote two years ago. In between, I wrote 87,000 words in Dreadnought, and 18,000 words of a sequel to Dreadnought that I abandoned in favor of my most recent project. A few years prior to that, I wrote probably about 70,000 words total in a project that I never completed before shelving it for being too ambitious. So all together, that’s about 402,000 words. Then add what I imagine is about 300,000 words of Mary Sue infested Star Trek fanfic that has been blissfully lost in the foggy depths of the Internet, plus another 50,000 or so worth of various other scribblings.

By the strict “million words of crap” metric, I’m not ready for prime time. For a while, I thought that  I was too good to hold to that line, too clever and talented to need to use my full million. Lately, with the perspective that comes from finishing at least the first draft of three manuscripts, I’ve started to re-evaluate that position. On top of that, there’s the fat stack of rejections from agents and editors that I’ve collected in the past year and a half of querying for my various projects. I’ve gotten close a few times, but never quite far enough, and that has a humbling effect.

So I’m not going to be the Next Big Thing by the end of the year, in all likelihood. Or the end of the next one, I imagine. Even if an agent where to call me up in the middle of drafting this sentence and beg to represent me, it’d likely still be two years or more before I debuted as a modest new name in a crowded field with little or no fanfare to boost me. I’ve got friends who are at or near the top of their respective fields in publishing, and they haven’t passed on any illusions about easy success. I am going to keep writing, because it’s what I love to do. But professional success is off the menu, at least for the time being.

Which is fine. I’ve decided to take it as a blessing. My life, thus far, has been harder than most of my peers, and easier than some of my friends. One of the things I’ve learned is that you don’t get to pick your circumstances. Oh sure, you’ve got to put in your hustle. The only time good luck matters worth a damn is when you’re already pushing with everything you’ve got. So you’ve got to push, and keep pushing, and get comfortable with pushing because you’re never going to be able to stop if you want to keep going forward. But even with all the effort in the world, you still need that luck. The circumstances of a life are, in large part, not of the making of the people who have to live it.

So one of the things you’ve got to do while you’re pushing that boulder up the hill again and again is learn to see what parts of the circumstances you’re living with right now can be turned to your advantage. So it looks like part of my life right now is that being published is not on the horizon, no matter how much I want it.

Okay, that sucks. But–

But that means that I’ve got years to get better at this than I am now. Even after a tall order of humble pie, I still think I’m pretty good at this. Or, I have potential, anyhow. In general, people enjoy the things I write for them to read. And with every manuscript I finish drafting out, with every revision I polish up, I get better. I can see how my most recent book is better than the one I wrote  before it, and how that book is better than the one that came before it.

My first book has a big mushy middle where the two lead characters sort of hang out getting to know one another for 70 pages. Given that I’ve got half a mind to serialize it online, this is a huge problem since a serialization model requires each installment to end on a note that will compel the reader to check in next week to find out what happens next. I’m mulling over the idea of hiring a freelance editor to take a look at how we could tighten up the middle of the book.

My second book, Dreadnought, doesn’t have that problem. From word one, everything that goes on in that book happens as a direct consequence of what came before. There aren’t any segments where characters sort of wait around getting to know each other while the plot takes its time arriving. But, that middle segment is carried on the shoulders of a supporting character who sort of drives the action for a while until it’s time for Danny to take up the mantle of Dreadnought and save the day. Given that this supporting character is easily a favorite among my beta readers, and that she and Danny are supposed to be equal partners in crime-fighting, this isn’t a huge problem, but it’s there. I notice it. (Or, at least now I notice it, with the benefit of more perspective.)

My third book, a sequel to the first one, takes the structural lessons I learned from Dreadnought and improved on them. It also managed a greater synthesis between the emotional/character development of the protagonist and the plot. At this point, I can turn out a pretty damn good first-person narrative that’s heavily driven by the protagonist’s emotions. Some time down the line, I’ll likely be able to see where this book’s big flaw is, but right now I’m too close to it, too proud of completing it.

So now I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do for my fourth manuscript. Remember that sequel to Dreadnought that got sidelined? I was planning to go back for it, but I don’t think I will, at least not right now. Both Dreadnought and my other books are first person stories with deadpan narrators who go through a big change. I’ve written three of these kinds of books, I’m kind of running out of lessons to learn from the form.

Now, if I was a published author, there would either be pressure to turn in a sequel to something that sold well, or a lot of anxiety about how they’d never publish me again after I wrote something that bombed. And here’s where we come back to finding advantages in your circumstances, even if they’re not what you’d have chosen. I’m not published. I don’t have any contracts to live up to. I don’t have a readership to cement. I’ve got nothing but time and a word processor.

So I can write whatever the fuck I want.

One of my other projects I mentioned, the 70k project that got shelved, had some good ideas in it that I can salvage. In the years since I put that project away, I’ve learned more and gained new ideas about life. Combine these all with a plot bunny that latched onto my ankle yesterday, and I’ve got the makings of a new book, something radically different than anything I’ve done before. The plot itself is going to be a fairly workmanlike adventure yarn that I’m trying to keep as simple as possible because there’s a lot of other problems that I’ve never had to deal with before that I’ll need to come to grips with. This is also the first book where I’m going to do significant worldbuilding before I sit down to start drafting, because that seems like a skillset a genre writer should have.

This book may never get published. It might be read by 15 people total. It doesn’t matter.

I love doing this. I love getting better. And if I’m not going to get plucked from obscurity any time soon, then I might as well use that obscurity to improve my craft as much as I can. Push, push, keep on pushing to be better, so that maybe, someday, when I finally sell a manuscript, it will be the best work I can do.

Or maybe I’ll go another direction, and start self-pubbing. Stop waiting for someone to hand me a golden ticket and start digging for one myself. Maybe I’ll spin up a constellation of pen names and jump from one wildly divergent project to the next. I don’t know yet. That’s the best part: I don’t have to know yet.I just have to keep writing.