Author Archives: caseykins

Some Election Thoughts

Posted on May 5, 2016 by caseykins

I’m just gonna say that this is a warning that I’m writing about politics and not funny bookish/life/garden stuff.  If you don’t want to continue, that’s cool.

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Am I alone in the fact that the election results on Tuesday sent me reeling?  I mean, we went from probably a contested Republican convention to no other candidates in the race in a period of 24 hours.  It doesn’t help that my worst nightmare has come true.

I’m feeling very torn about it all.  I’m a huge believer in the democratic process and, although I usually have a candidate that I like, I support everyone’s right to their own convictions.  I don’t usually care who you vote for, as long as you vote.  Cancel me out, that’s cool.  Majority wins, and that’s how it should be in this political system.

Except that we are now facing the fact that Donald Trump is the official head of the Republican party.  He’s bad in ways that I don’t think anyone fully understands, not even me.  It’s frightening to see the people he’s surrounding himself with, his blatant disregard of the American constitution, his hatred toward minorities and women, and his own personal behavior (including the one where he’s like “we had no idea that was happening so it’s obviously not our fault.” Really, Trump? You have no idea what’s happening in your own organization and you think running a country is something you can do?)

Alright, rant over.  That wasn’t the point of this whole thing, anyway.

The point is, I’m not sure what I should be doing right now.  That’s the real issue.  I don’t think I should be telling you who to vote for, and I don’t usually think that “vote for x because she’s better than Y” is a good argument.

I also believe that social media functions as an escapist space for a lot of people.  I value  that my Facebook feed is all literary puns, cat videos, and stupidity.

On the other side, I am a firm believer in the fact that a person who is silent in the face of tyranny is complicit in it. And I deeply believe that Donald Trump is attempting to usher in a regime of tyranny and intolerance. Which means that there is responsibility there.

So… stupid Facebook or political Facebook?  Tell you who to vote for, or don’t? Does choosing to be silent make me a silent supporter of racist bigotry and idiocy?  Does choosing to post all the awful things I find make me an angry, vitriolic person?

I don’t know.  I’m still figuring out what is a reasonable course of action in an unreasonable time.  I’ll let you know if I come to any conclusions.

Categories: Life, Politics, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Book Review: Little Women

Posted on May 3, 2016 by caseykins

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The last time I tried reading Little Women I couldn’t do it.  I found that I had memorized so much of it that it no longer operated like a book in my mind.  When I read, the scenes play as if they’re a movie.  Memorization = no movie = bad reading experience.

But I loved that book so much in high school.  I couldn’t even exactly say why, but just that it seemed so perfect.  I wanted the little shabby house, four sisters to romp with, and a neighbor like Laurie to pet and tease and wheedle.  I wanted a mother as supernaturally wise as Marmee is to just make most of the decisions for me.

Back then I identified mostly with Amy.  She’ll do anything to be liked, has a heck of a temper while still being hilarious (especially in her misuse of the English language), and gets into the funniest scrapes.  Like the time she tried to cast her foot in plaster and it hardened too soon.  So she just had a bucket stuck on her foot until Jo could stop laughing long enough to cut her out again.  There’s also the clothespin she uses to re-shape her nose (I never liked mine, either), and the weird dress up box she gets into at Aunt March’s.  They hand over the sugar bowl to her whenever she gets cross.  She cries over her math homework.  I mean, Amy’s truly my patronus.  Or was.

I decided to read Little Women again for a couple of reasons.  The first was that people were saying a lot of things online about it, and I wanted to read it with a more careful and critical eye.  The second was because I thought it would do for the 2016 reading challenge.  The book doesn’t remind me of Christmas as much as it probably should (yeah, it starts at Christmas, but 90% of the book is another season).  But it does remind me heavily of another season in my life.  Besides, it’s probably been ten years since I’ve tried it.

I am here to report that it’s better than you remembered it.  No, really.  That’s a possible thing.

Or at least it was better than I remembered it.  And I think this is why:  It talks frankly about poverty, shows it in a cheery if sometimes inconvenient light, and doesn’t give false hope.

I couldn’t have put it into words before now, but I’m awfully mad at American society under general principals.  It 100% isn’t true at all anymore that if you work hard enough you will be able to achieve the American Dream (if it ever was), and yet you are told a thousand times over that it’s the truth.  I’m of a generation who is tens of thousands of dollars in debt, has come of age during the WORST financial crisis seen in 80 years, often works multiple jobs to make ends meet, and yet is still called lazy because they are treading water in financial insecurity.  I’ve worked those multiple jobs myself.  Hell, I’m currently working one job with what  would be considered a middle class salary and I’m driving a jalopy and worrying about the grocery bill.

And I’ll be honest: my job is not what I thought it would be when I was 15.  I don’t hate it, certainly, but it’s not one of those “never work a day in your life” jobs.  It’s fine, I get a lot of satisfaction out of doing it well, and all the bills eventually get paid.  But I feel like  I at least deserve financial security if I am working that hard.

And then I crack open a page on the March girls.  And there is catharsis.

I found myself much more a Meg this time around.  She works as a governess for a couple of spoiled children and doesn’t like it, but it pays the bills.  She has to continually watch the older son blow fortunes on vices, money that they throw away but that would make a sea-change worth of help to her poor family.  She hangs out with Sallie Gardner and Annie Moffat who also have heaps more means that she does, and she must continually deny herself the trinkets and things they purchase without thinking. (See: my entire Chapman experience).  She’s always fussing with her wardrobe to make it nice, has terrible yet hilarious domestic trails after she gets married (oh, the sticky, jam covered kitchen), and has a rough transition to living with John Brooke and making the marriage work.  But in the end there is heaps of love and she is rewarded with a too-tiny yet cozy home they rule together, which Laurie dubs the Dovecote.

There is no “deserve” in this book. There are only choices and trials for all the girls.  The reward for their work is a better character and a good relationship with the people they love.  With some harmless, romping fun in between to break up the monotony, of course.  There is no promise that hard work = security in anything but secure relationships.  There is no expectation that any of the girls will find their “calling” and work at something they enjoy, or that work will ever be a pleasant thing.  There is only pride in pitching in to help and in a job well done.

I realized that I’d do better to take some of those ideas and start trying to live them.  So there I am again, in the same place I was 20 years ago: trying to use this book as a roadmap for life.

I guess some things never change.

Now excuse me while I go read Meg’s marriage scene again.

Categories: Book Reviews, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Lyra Marsh, and Camp

Posted on April 29, 2016 by caseykins

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Camp NaNoWriMo?  Over tomorrow.  And I realized again why I never do camp… it just doesn’t feel urgent enough.  Which isn’t to say it wasn’t worth it.  I’ve started all 4 stories and finished 2 of them (one, it turns out, is going to be incalculably long.  The other involves domestic violence and was harder to write than I anticipated).

I have decided to let myself be a “winner” by validating, though, because I wrote well over the 10,000 words I committed to.  I think I may have even gotten 2 things that are publishable out of it, though they will need a lot of work.

The one GREAT thing that came out of all of this is Lyra Marsh.  I’m not sure what kind of a thing she will eventually be, but I might end up setting her up a blog where she can write about her trials and tribulations as an undergrad at Pragnum.  That’s my first thought.  I’m trying to share more of my work on this thing, so I made an inspiration board for her on Pinterest, here.  And below are the first few of her entries as a teaser.  A HUGE thank you to everyone who has ever drawn a witchsona, because you all are inspirational and Lyra is the proof.  J

I’m sort of in love with this girl.  Picky-Picky is also my favorite.

Lyra’s Blog:

Okay, so isn’t the first post on a blog supposed to be about who you are and why you think you want to blog?  That’s what they tell me.  Here goes:

I’m Lyra Marsh, student at Pragnum College, majoring in Warding, with a minor in Charms.  I used to live in the dorms, but my cat, Picky-Picky, couldn’t be there with me.  She’s a tortie; a mostly black cat with a splotch of orange on her eye and chest and little white feet.  Which means we broke the rules, of course, and got thrown out.  Picky-Picky is a non-negotiable subject.

Oh, not thrown out of college.  Just thrown out of the dorms.  I’m not that crazy.

Besides, what else would I do?  Go to a regular college and major in Colonial Salem?  I mean, there’s only so much history can teach you about how it’s better to just shut up about magic.

You would think that Pragnum would be more understanding about familiars, wouldn’t you?  But supposedly I’m “too young” for one, as they “only come to older witches who have reached their majority.” Maddening.  We don’t all work on a schedule, Pragnum.  As someone who knows about protection, I can tell you that familiars come when you need looking after the most, not when you reach some sort of predetermined age.

All that shit about not needing protection now that I’m living in the dorms, where the school will protect me.  Nice try.

I don’t know.  Maybe Picky-Picky has too many cat like qualities to pass muster or something.

Wow.  I really got off subject there.

So, in any case.  Picky-Picky and I are looking for an apartment.  With no roommates.  I just got a job at Brew-tiful, the café down the street, and the owner is willing to work around my school schedule.  With that and the money I’m bringing in from selling charms on Etsy, it’s looking like I can afford something, anyway.  And I’m gonna ask mom to pitch in what she was paying for my dorm room.

Basically, that’s why I’m starting this thing.  I thought people might like to know the exploits of me and Picky-Picky as we adult in the real world.

With tips for living as a magic-user of course.  There aren’t many of us, but we matter too, damn it.

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Found an apartment!  It’s super adorable, and I can’t wait to move in.  It’s tiny.  Just one bedroom, and I’d be surprised if it was more than 500 square feet.  But it’s perfect.  There’s a bowed window in the front that didn’t quite show in the photos, where my work desk will fit perfectly.  There’s also a strange, scrolling radiator in the bathroom.  The house is quiet and peaceful, with a lot of light coming in, too.  The bedroom will fit a double, I think, if I push the bed up against the wall on one side.  It’s one of those bungalows built in the 1920s that all look out on a central lawn.  There’s even a little porch.

I didn’t take Picky-Picky with me to the open house, of course, but she liked the pictures on craigslist.  She only stopped purring when she started patting at the rent amount.  Damn cat.

I can afford the rent.  Alright, so I’ll have to sell a few more charms or pick up an extra day at Brew-tiful.  I can make it.  It’s the deposit I’m going to have to ask mom for.  Which she might give me, though I’ll definitely have to sit through a lecture about my rule breaking propensities first. Again. Ugh.

I know what you’re thinking and I DID check out the other tenants before I filled out the credit check form.  Can’t be too careful.  I touched the stoop railings with my hands when I was walking past: in love; cozy and safe; kinda sad; exuberant; and placid, is what I read from all of them.  No red flags here.

And also, I gotta admit that I told the paper to make me look responsible after I filled it out.  Which is cheating.  But I really love this place.  We have to have it, Picky-Picky and me.  Have to.

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So, I’ve been getting a lot of questions about magic, and I want to say that it works differently for everyone.  You just sort of have to learn how it goes as you do it.  For me it feels a lot like breathing, I guess.  I mean, I breathe things in and I know about them, or I can breathe words out and tell things how I want them to be.

That’s how I figured out the neighbors.  I breathed in and could sort of taste the ‘in love’ on my tongue, or the ‘sad.’  And that’s how I told the page to make me look responsible.  It’s totally controllable, when I’m using it and when I’m not.  It’s like the difference between saying to yourself “raise your arm,” but leaving your arm at your side, or actually raising your arm up.  I can tell a thing to be something without making the telling magic.

Which is why when I told my last boyfriend to go to hell, he didn’t actually go to an alternate plane of fire, just back to his mom in San Francisco.  Although…

No, I’m kidding.

There’s also like a… how do I say this?  I’m not super strong or anything.  I’m getting a little skill in warding because of all the classes I’ve been taking, but I probably couldn’t have sent Kevin off to hell if I’d legitimately tried.  That’s too big for me.  Keeping pots stirring while I’m on the phone?  Sure.  Telling my favorite shirt to come to the top of the hamper?  Of course.  But I can’t even make the busses in this damn town run on time.

The reason my charms work is because I think really hard at them while I’m putting them together, and they want to make bad guys overlook that TV set you have in the living room.  I mean, as an example.  I’ve coached them into wanting it.

It’s why I’m so good at wards and charms.  They’re subtle, and they last longer and are more potent if they think they want to do what you want them to do.  There are some kids in my class who are that “wham-bam” kind of magic you think of, but that’s not me.  And it’s not most of the folks in my major, either.

So the answer to any magic question is that it varies so much that it’s crazy.  And I happen to be the subtle kind, not the explosion kind.  But maybe you know a little more about me now?

And P. S.  No, I’m not revealing the location of Pragnum.  That’s stupid and could get me in a lot of trouble, since it’s supposed to be secret and all unless you’re a magic user.  No, it’s not like ‘Hogwarts,’ (which doesn’t exist, by the way) and you could go there if you were able to find it.  In fact, it’s pretty easy to find.  Which is why I can’t say anything more about its location.  So there.

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Move In Day has officially come and passed.  Whoo hoo!

Except, damn it mom, I don’t need you to send me any more charms.  She’s freaking out about me living alone, even with Picky-Picky around.  And she keeps sending me these stupid amateur charms that just stink of incompetence.  I can make better stuff than that and I’m not even out of college yet.  Geez.  And does she think I don’t have any warding on my place at all?

I’m not stupid, mom.  I’m being careful.  I put the “nothing valuable, nothing magic” ward on my place the night I moved in, and I have charms at every window and door now too.  Ones I made, not that crap you sent me.  Yeah, it’s imperfect because I had to do the inside of the house and not the outside since I share a couple of walls, but that’s what the charms are for.

The place came with a refrigerator and a stove, and nothing else.  The fridge is an old mustard colored thing with a peeling sticker on the handle that’s supposed to make it look like wood.  But it cools, so that’s all I care about.  The pilot lights on the stove always stay lit, too, so I’m going to have to watch Picky-Picky.  She knows better than to bat at that stuff, but if it flickers she wants to eat it.  Too cat-like for her own good. SMH.

Mom doesn’t live around here, but Jules, my old roommate, is from just down the street.  Her parents were awesome and let me raid their garage for furniture.  I have a funky mirror, an end table for the bed I bought, and an old desk with some chairs for a kitchen table.  The desk is this huge sturdy thing that someone painted army green, and there’s one tiny drawer in it.  None of the chairs match, but all of the seats are upholstered in this awful gold brocade.  I started knitting colorful covers for them yesterday.  They’re gonna be like a patchwork rainbow when I’m done.  Granny square for the win.

I bought a mattress at Goodwill (it’s refurbished, not used.  Don’t get grossed out).  I bought my couch at Salvation Army and I LOVE it.  It’s one of those low-backed things from the 60s covered in green velvet.  Who cares if the pillows are too slouchy?  The only room that has curtains is the bedroom, and that’s also the most furnished.  I mostly just moved my dorm stuff in there, and it looks good.  Even if I am sleeping under a twin comforter on a full sized bed.  I’m the only one sleeping in it anyway.

The most important part is my work desk.  That was in my dorm, too.  Can’t go anywhere without it.  I set it in the little bowed window, and I can look out on the big tree in the neighbor’s back yard while I work.  Kinda like living in a forest.  It’s one of those Victorian roll-top desks with a thousand cubbies for all my stones, seeds, pits, feathers, wires and things.

Picky-Picky has already gotten into a spat with the neighbor cat down the street.  I told her it isn’t fair of her because she turns on the super speed and the other cat doesn’t even have a chance.  She doesn’t seem to care.  In fact, she turned her upright tail to me when I was lecturing her and cleaned her face.  I get it, brat.  Now leave the neighbor cats alone.

So basically we’re right at home.

Categories: Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A New-ish Desk

Posted on April 25, 2016 by caseykins

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I reorganized the house a bit this weekend.  I moved my writing desk from my big office into the little nook in my bedroom.  It’s just in front of the walk-in closet with a big window in front of it that looks out on the neighbor’s pretty plum tree.  Plus, it’s a prime Anydots “Business” site (she has business in all the windows.  She can’t cuddle right now, she has to go), which means she’s continually hopping on and off the sill and chittering at the birds who fly past.

I’ve long had a hard time writing in the other office.  There’s just so much space, and it never helped that it sort of became the Cat Room, Craft Dump Place, and General Storage Area (read: always a mess).  I always did better at our Quail Creek apartment where I wrote in a large closet – no window.  So I’m hoping that this will bring me that closed-in-walls, cozy feeling I used to have there.  I mean, I used to do 4 hours easy on the weekends.  Now?  I hardly ever write at home, just in the snippets I can snatch in the breaks of my work day.  This spot has plenty of outlets for the computer, too, and all it needs now is a small desk lamp for late nights.

The best part of figuring out this new space was the curating.  I have 2 slim shelves that are supposed to be for propping up artwork and not for storing things, a slim desk, and scarce wall space.  I will miss having my big metal C and the picture my grandmother drew of me, but there isn’t room for them (and is it weird to have a picture of yourself in your bedroom?  Even if you were 14 at the time? It might be…  I’ll find another place for it). Instead I have my book angel, pens spilling out of a tall espresso cup with a mysterious black figure on it, the Puffin In Bloom version of Little Women, the Jane Austen clothbound hardback set from Penguin, all of my Lord of the Rings journals, a slew of motivational hand-lettered quotes taped to the edge of the shelves (somewhat teeth marked by Miss Dots), my clock, my first NaNoWriMo winner’s certificate, and the Chinese lacquered box that I keep my fountain pen ink refills in.  It has everything I need, with lots of inspiration included.

I may also add a real shelf above the window at some later date, depending on how I feel about it all.  I’ve been keeping a journal of some sort since I was in 3rd grade, though I didn’t get serious and regular about it until high school. The books are many, and that crap has to go somewhere.  I’m not getting rid of any of it on the propensity that someone will donate it to the Redlands Library when I die and some historian in 200 years will be very glad that I took the time to write down my weekend chores, though they will have to look up “mansplain” and “Bernie Bros”  because no one has used those terms in more than a century – the latter especially.

I’m pleased.  I did a little writing yesterday and it felt right.  So here’s to being more productive in the future. I shall now be able to seize the book.

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The NaNoWriMo Blues

Posted on April 21, 2016 by caseykins

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I am definitely at the point of the tale where I have the Nanowrimo blues.  Also, I haven’t written anything productive all week.  I’m ahead in word count, behind in story output.  But I’m not VERY far behind.  Could still make it if I get serious about it.  (I’m seriously feeling like I shouldn’t have signed up.)  Why am I beating my head against a rock to get this done when none of it is looking like it will be publishable stuff, even with edits…?

Which is probably the absolute wrong attitude to have. I mean, practice is practice, right?

In any case, I’ll have to decide if I’m validating.  I committed to writing 10,000 words which I will easily meet.  But what I really meant was 4 short stories of at least 2,500 words apiece.  I have 2 stories finished, one that turned into a saga of unknown length and won’t be finished for years (I’m guessing), and the other isn’t even started yet and defies all attempts.

Maybe I’m just having separation anxiety from the novel…

I’ve read all the pep-talks and communed with my cabin mates, and I think I’ll make a halfhearted push to the finish line.  After all, I still have another whole week, and only 1.5 stories to go.  Just 2000 words until the arrow hits the target on the website.  I did commit…

Categories: Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Book Reviews: Neverwhere and A Knot In The Grain

Posted on April 19, 2016 by caseykins

I’m posting a few more book reviews this week even though they’re horribly late.  It’s been a doozy of a weekend, although I’m not 100% sure why I feel that way.  I don’t always get a Thursday entry in, but I ALWAYS get a Monday one and I didn’t this week…

But I will get this Tuesday one done if it kills me (I mean, it won’t kill me…).

I’m charging along on the old 2016 reading challenge.  Out of 32 books, I only have 13 left to read. And we haven’t even hit the middle of the year yet.  Here are two I haven’t blogged: A book of short stories, and a book with a dark and mysterious cover.

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A Knot in the Grain by Robin McKinley (a book of short stories):

As I’ve said on the blog before, I’m not usually a fan of short stories.  I picked this one up, though, because it was Robin McKinley and it was free on Kindle Unlimited (thanks mom!).  It’s comprised of five tales, and honestly I think it’s arranged from worst to best.  The first 4 stories take place in this odd fairy tale world that feels like Grimm but actually contains happy endings, or at least contented ones.  My favorite of the first 4 tales was Buttercups, and I think it was definitely worth the purchase price.  While I didn’t exactly enjoy the other stories, I did find myself thinking about them between times, which I think is a sign of good stuff.

The story the book is named after, though… oh man.  I wish it were a whole novel.  It takes place in a modern setting where a high school girl moves to a new home and finds a strange box in an attic.  I don’t know how McKinley captures real life so well, but she really does mundanity so that you want to live it.  This is the sort of thing that makes McKinley one of my favorites.

I enjoyed the book quite a lot, and would recommend it.  Especially to fans of McKinley’s other stuff.

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Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (a book with a dark and mysterious cover):

I don’t even really know where to start with this one.  It’s a re-read for me and I liked it less the second time around.  Which isn’t to say that I didn’t like it.  I don’t know, it’s hard to pinpoint.

Richard Mayhew, average executive in dubious relationship, stumbles on a bleeding girl while on his way to dinner.  He helps her, and then finds that no one recognizes him anymore.  He now belongs to an alternate city below the London he knows: London Below, and must go on a perilous journey to get back to his home.  If that’s what he really wants, that is.  It’s filled with creepy Rat Speakers, A Huntress, vampiresses, the Lady Door, and evil Angel, a dreadful prehistoric beast, and sadistic Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandermar.

It’s definitely well-written and such a cool idea.  Gaiman comes up with all sorts of interesting things for the defunct names of London past.  Like the Earl in Earl’s Court who has set up a medieval home on the tube.  Or the Shepherds in Shepherd’s Bush that you really don’t want to meet.

It’s great.  It’s cool.  It’s creepy. It’s everything you could want from a Gaiman story.  But is it missing a bit of emotion?

I guess I wished on the second time around that I felt more affection for Door and for Richard than I ended up feeling.  But seriously, go read it.  You won’t be disappointed.

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Lazy Week

Posted on April 15, 2016 by caseykins

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My week has mostly been the boring kind.  Which is the kind I like best, in some ways.

I bought Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone Illustrated Edition on Monday and have burned through it.  Brian has hardly seen me, as I’ve been reveling over diagrams of dragon eggs and portraits of Harry and Hagrid in a rowboat, seagulls wheeling overhead.  It’s prettier than you ever could imagine it would be, even if you’ve already seen the pictures.  My only criticism is that it is a bit too huge to hold and read, though it’s good for spreading out on the pillow next to you.  (Brian?  No, he doesn’t need a place to sleep).

Previews of Chamber of Secrets are available, and I already can’t wait for the next installment.

I made strawberry jam from strawberries we bought at the farm store down the street on Sunday, which I know Brian has been DYING to get into.  We still have ½ a jar of Apple/Lemon left first, though.  It was so good that I licked the pot clean (shhh… don’t tell anyone).  I also had about ¼ of a jar’s worth of leftovers that didn’t fit nicely into the 6 full jars I made, which I promptly ate as well.

The tomatoes have tripled in size, overnight, and are starting to flower.

The kitten has been into her usual shenanigans.  I let her ‘help’ me clean up this weekend (by which I mean I crumpled a bunch of the junk mail into balls she could chase around the house so she would stop bothering me to pet her).  I put them in the recycling at the end of the day.  Don’t worry, she upended it all and pulled them out again (plus more), and strewed it all over the house.  It might have been my own fault for giving that stuff to her to play with in the first place…  I’ll tell you though, the lesson is not learned.  She’s too adorable, and at least the mess is clean paper.  She was waiting in the window for me to come home last night, too (and then promptly showed me that she didn’t care about me at all when I walked in the door).

My mom started a puzzle of Yellowstone at her house, which I find impossible to step away from.  Must get one more piece in (*eye twitch*). I have most of the lodges together, and was starting on the bears taking pictures of humans when we realized how late it was.

Hats off to lazy weeks.  I don’t get many of them.

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Heroes and Villains

Posted on April 11, 2016 by caseykins

Camp Nanowrimo is going well-ish.  My word count has exploded, but the point was to write 4 whole short stories (and not 50,000 words), so I’m feeling a little behind.  The Golden Apple story went like gang-busters for a while but seems to have stalled out.  Brian and I discussed it this weekend, and I think it’s because the About is more in line with WWII than the Great War, and so it doesn’t quite fit.  Also, needs more Greek Gods (which could be said of everything, really).

I swore to myself that I would actually post a book review this week, since it’s been a while.  I am still working on the 2016 reading challenge, and plugging away at it.  This week?  A book that makes me want to be a hero, and a book that makes me want to be a villain.

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The Blue Sword, by Robin McKinley:

I have long been a huge fan of McKinley’s The Hero and The Crown, about an outcast of a royal woman, Aerin, who experiments with a non-burning salve used to fight dragons, and ends up being the savior of her people (along with a busted-up war horse).  I hadn’t read The Blue Sword, though I knew it was considered the sequel.  It wasn’t available on kindle until fairly recently, and isn’t available in most stores.

I found it, though, at a little used bookstore by the train station where I pick Brian up some days.  I bought it immediately and read it so fast.  Best find ever.

It’s about an orphan, Harry Crewe, who moves to be near her brother at a military outpost in the desert.  When a mountain king comes to the village to ask for military aid, his second-sight tells him to kidnap Harry and take her with him back to his kingdom.  She comes into her own, becoming one of the kings sacred riders and besting the country at the sword trials.  She communes with Lady Aerin, falls for the king, and saves a country herself.

It’s full of hard tasks and bad choices, but of trust and valor.  It makes me want to learn to ride a horse with nothing but a small leather cushion on the back.  It makes me want to live in a tent with a king and drink waters that make me have visions.  It makes me want to wear a mended scarf around my waist, and to find a home among other people with strange ways.  Even if they do start calling me Harimad Sol.

So, Harry Crewe makes me want to be a hero.

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Silver on the Road, by Laura Anne Gilman:

Kindle has been recommending me this book for a very long time, in the way it recommends things I end up disliking.  I finally read the synopsis of it, and was sort of expecting it to be a worse version of Patricia C. Wrede’s Frontier Magic.  I figured that even if it was bad it would have interesting ideas.  I was VERY wrong.  It wasn’t anything like that at all, really, except in the traveling through the west theme.

And it was great.  My only beef with the book is that I will have to wait another 2 years (!!!) for the series to be finished.  Damn you, Simon and Schuster.  You always do this to me!

In this west, there are three parts.  There is the United States, there is the territory controlled by the devil, and then there is Spain, in that order from East to West.  The devil is undefined.  Is he evil?  Who knows.  But he does protect the territory, and he does make bargains for people’s souls.  He also runs a saloon, where main character Izzy grows up.

Izzy isn’t sure where she wants to go when she reaches her majority.  So she sells herself to the devil and agrees to become his left hand, touring his portion of the territory and doing… well, she doesn’t really know.  She has a guide to teach her the road, and they know there are monsters let loose to murder the populace.  That’s all she has to go on.

It’s a great book, super-exciting, and basically reminds me of a Deadlands game that has gone to print. Being out on the road seems great, if inconvenient sometimes.  Also bonus points for a book that discusses how women deal with periods (as in monthly bleeding) because I’ve never seen that before in fantasy.

I would like to travel the road with Gabriel and see the strange things in the west, although I’m not sure I’d agree to sell my soul to the devil to do it.

Isobel makes me want to be a villain.

So that’s it for the book reviews this week.  As always, happy reading!

Categories: Book Reviews, Fiction, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Aurora at the Troubadour

Posted on April 7, 2016 by caseykins

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I learned last Monday night that basically all of my fuddy-duddy propensities have coalesced and refined themselves into something way more fuddy-duddy than they used to be.  Brian and I went to an Aurora concert at the Troubadour.  I tried to enjoy myself, I really did.  And parts of the evening were perfect.  But, oh man, I’m definitely not their audience anymore.

I used to love a good concert.  It felt edgy and cool to put on all my black clothes, smear some gloss on my lips, and go dance with the other gals at the Ivy Walls concert, wherever they happened to play; the Troubadour with the odd burger stand at the back of the bar; the Silverlake Lounge with the massive lamé curtain that shimmers just right in the lights; the red, red Viper Room.  We’d dance until the show was over and even my bones were tired, and then Brian and I would speed home over the empty California freeways in the darkness.  I’d wake up for work the next morning tired, but with the conviction that it was all worth it.

We got there an hour early last night to wait in line for good seats.  The cue wrapped around the corner of an old brick building, and I leaned my back against it as I waited with Brian.  There was a group of kids in tight colored pants, high pompadours, and shirts with rolled up sleeves behind us.  I rolled my eyes when one of them said “yeah, I don’t care about Aurora.  I’m here for the opening band.” And then they lit up a joint.  In line.  On a public street.

I expect a little pot in those places.  I do.  But seriously? On a public street! (I told you – such a fuddy-duddy).

“How was work?” Brian asked me, and I also realized that most of the people in this line also probably didn’t have stories about their epic fight with the printer to get labels done so the student workers could send the invitation to the fundraiser.

Inside was only slightly better.  The cruddy railings and beat up seats no longer seemed edgy.  They just seemed gross.  I wondered what sort of botulism I was exposing myself to by only bringing my tiny clutch, instead of the purse with the hand sanitizer in one of the vast pockets.  (Hand sanitizer, self.  SMH).

The first band was really good, but had a bit too much of an R&B influence to be my favorite.  And then it was 9:30 and I realized, without even checking my phone, that it was past my bed time.  If I thought I could have slept on the bench in the back of the Troubadour I might have tried it.

It all faded away and became the perfect evening once Aurora stepped onto the stage.  All my crankiness and all the tired vanished. She’s such a funny, elfin lady with a tiny voice.  She dances along to her songs as if she was seaweed in a current, waving here and there.  She started crying when she heard us all singing along, and let us finish the lyrics to the last verse.  I had that “at one with the crowd” feeling.  Brian rocked out beside me so hard it made wonder if I wanted to admit to knowing him, which was basically the only goal for this evening.  Aurora is Brian’s favorite.

And then Brian drove home while I slept.  I have been logy and cranky most of the week, with the conviction that we were lucky it was worth it, but that next time I don’t know that I would say yes to that evening.

I mean, I don’t know who I’m kidding.  I would say yes if Brian wanted to go.  But still.  I am way too much of a fuddy-duddy for LA clubs these days.  I missed the kitten last night like you wouldn’t believe. All I want is 18 hours of sleep (Who have I become?).

Categories: Life, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

I’m Officially Camping

Posted on March 31, 2016 by caseykins

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Alright, well, it’s official.  I’m certifiably crazy, and doing Camp NaNoWriMo in April.  The plan? 4 short stories in 4 weeks.

I’ve done stuff like this before, most notably for the Clarion Writeathon.  I typically commit to 6 short stories in 6 weeks for that, and I don’t ever quite make it.  The reason (I think)? I hardly ever have more than a plan for a story or two when I get started.  I promised myself that if I could cobble together ideas for 3 stories, I would do Camp.  And I have managed to figure out 3 stories.  Now I’m just trolling for a fourth (and actual plot points for the 3rd, but hey)…

And, of course, I’m plugging away on Blue Gentian today in a last-ditch effort to do as much as possible before the insanity starts.  The heavy reorganization parts are done, it’s just the endless drafts of polishing that are left.

We were sorted into cabins a few days ago, and I got a GREAT one this year.  We’re actually talking to each other! That never happens…

Here’s what I’m writing for Camp:

There Must Have Been some Magic in that Old Top Hat They Found: England, 1814: Sam crowns his snowman with a top hat he found in a snowbank, hoping to collect pennies for the sculpture at the faire on top of the frozen Thames.  But the snowman has other ideas.  He thinks Sam should make a wish.

La Llorona: Chicago, 1892, : When Geneva is tasked with keeping unwanted things out of Hull House, she’s thinking intoxicated husbands, not the wailing, dripping woman on the 3rd floor who is already dead.  A continuation of a sketch I wrote as a character background, here: https://caseykins.com/2013/06/08/geneva-allerton/

A Golden Apple: Italy, 1917: Hera let the thing slip from her fingers, and now a troop of half-immortal soldiers must find the golden apple hidden within the Italian front before WWI becomes a permanent conflict.

And one more, TBD…  Will it be the one where Robot Rasputin runs out of batteries? Will it be the Pony Express driver who must deliver a very strange package?  Will it be Dr. Pragnum and his Infant Restorative Tonic?  (I think I can confidently say that it will be none of those).  Stay tuned to find out!

Categories: Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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