23
Mar
2006
Yes!!!
Strange Horizons just accepted my story, “The Women of Our Occupation.”
I am so jazzed.
Also, their rates have gone up. Fucking sweet!!!
Gee, someday I may be a real writer….
Kameron Hurley
“I do not wish them to have power over men, but over themselves.”
- Mary Wollstonecraft
Archive for March, 2006
22
Mar
2006
Send NARAL Some Money
Me & Jenn did, and we’re poor and have no money. But hey, that’s $20 more to stuff down some asshole’s throat.
If SD pisses you off, why not send some money to somebody worthwhile? Even $5. It’ll make you feel better. That, or you could send hangers to the governor of SD. I’m getting increasingly pissed off, and that’ll be my next act of anger.
Cause it’s abortion today, and birth control tomorrow, and isn’t that exciting!
IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN ABORTION, DON’T HAVE ONE. Don’t try telling me what my “empty vessel” body’s good for. That’s my decision.
And whoever these women are who believe that they’re “aborting babies” by taking the pill because they’re confused about what the pill does (makes your body think you’re pregnant, so you don’t ovulate), and what abortion is (“abortion” doesn’t happen until *after* a *fertilized egg* *attaches itself to the uterus* and is *removed from the uterus after having been attached*) – DON’T TAKE THE PILL. IF YOU THINK YOU ARE KILLING “BABIES” THEN DON’T USE BIRTH CONTROL OR DON’T HAVE SEX.
Don’t tell me what to do with my own girl parts, thanks. That’s my decision.
You know, Iran tried this “ban contraception” thing and doubled their population in 10 years. They had to retract that particular little law because they couldn’t support the excess population – too many abandoned babies, too many poor men and women who needed help from the state to raise their children, huge drain on social services.
But nobody reads history anymore.
22
Mar
2006
Ode To The Venom Cock
This is not a feminist book, despite much contrary argument.
It also has no plot.
If I can ever manage to wade through the last heap of this sorry little fucker, I’m going to bitch all about it.
22
Mar
2006
Dear South Dakota: More Fuck-Yous
“To me, it is now a question of sovereignty,” she said to me last week. “I will personally establish a Planned Parenthood clinic on my own land which is within the boundaries of the Pine Ridge Reservation where the State of South Dakota has absolutely no jurisdiction.”
That’s probably the coolest Fuck You ever. Where do I send PP and Fire Thunder some money for *that* venture?
22
Mar
2006
Back To Indy
It’s like some kind of conspiracy. They know I hate it there, so they keep sending me.
Monday and Tuesday in the Great Plains of Nowhere.
Gee, I’m so excited.
21
Mar
2006
The Dragon’s Wall
Ten chapters to go in the major rewrite of tDW. It’s exhausting, yea, but it’s a good book, and it’s fun watching it become a better book.
After that, I need to decide if I want to keep one of my POV characters or dump him for someone else, then rewrite those, print, revise, send to my next set of readers, revise again. Print.
Then send out and wipe my hands of it for a month or two while Agent reviews revisions.
After that, I bury myself back into God’s War.
It’s really nice to be writing again.
I feel a lot saner.
21
Mar
2006
Behind Every Great Writer…
Not that Brown’s a “great writer,” but it’s a nice look at the invisible partners-behind-the-writers.
This week Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code, revealed that his wife Blythe helps him write his bestsellers. It puts him in good company…
21
Mar
2006
Why Am I Wearing Size Twelve Pants? (And Why Is It So Damn Cold Outside?)
While sitting on my heels in yoga class on Friday, I stared at my reflection on the mirrored wall. I looked at the reflection of the others in the class.
And for the first time in a long, long time, I realized I was average-sized. I did not look like a mushroom. I did not look twice as big as all of the women in class. Sure, I’m tall and big in the hips, but when you line me up with everyone else, I don’t immediately stick out as being huger than the rest.
On Saturday, I tried on a couple pairs of size 12 jeans and slipped right into them. Today, for the first time, I’m weaing 12s to work.
You would think – after looking at myself in the mirror every day and dropping two sizes since Christmas – that I would think of myself as average-sized. You would think I’d strut around and take pride in my size M sweat pants, size M T-shirts and size L work shirts.
But I don’t. Not really. I keep thinking they’ve done something with the clothing sizes. They must have made them all bigger. That’s the problem. That’s why I’ve had to purge 80% of my wardrobe in the last six months.
In my head, I’m still a fat girl.
I grew up being “the fat girl.” I grew up getting spit on and made fun of for it. Guys loved being “just friends” with me. Women loved the fact that they didn’t have to compete with me. I internalized this idea of myself, of being too big in a world that wanted small women. I’m still the height and weight of the average guy, so really, by social standards I *am* still big, just not as gargantuan as I think I am. I’m at my Alaska weight, my highschool theater weight. I’m at the weight I hit when all is right in my world and I’m not binge eating.
But imagine, just imagine the sort of strange body image you’d have of yourself if you’d spent the last 14 years yo-yoing from a size 12 to a 22. You’d have a pretty weird image of your body. When I look in the mirror, whether at a 12 or a 22, I see the same person.
Nobody else seems to, except maybe my closest friends. My body shape stays roughly the same – I just get more of it when I’m heavier, and less when I’m thinner. Still big in the hips and shoulders, small in the bust, long-legged, big in the thighs. It’s the same almost-hourglass shape (made hourglass not with large breasts, but wide shoulders). It’s all the same.
The real kicker is that the last two times I was at this weight, I was either 1) eating once or twice a day (high school theater, when I was 14/15) 2) going to the gym 5 days a week, doing a weight routine 5 mornings a week, living primarily on brown rice and eggs, and riding my bike 2-3 times a week (Alaska, when I was 19-21).
Now I eat pretty much everything all the time, lift weights 5 mornings a week, and go the gym once, maybe twice a week (and I haven’t been in ages, except for the yoga class. Trying to get back on that, for stength and stamina purposes, not weight loss).
There’s really something to the whole “eat when you’re hungry and stop dieting” thing. The yo-yoing stops.
I’d say that stress was a factor – and maybe it is – but my usual template when stressed is that I *gain* weight, because I binge eat and get depressed. But I don’t binge eat anymore.
It’s funny how long it takes you to figure out your body. I think the Christian-hate-your-corporeal-body stuff is deep-rooted in our society, and so it takes longer to understand how everything works than it would otherwise. It took me forever to realize that my sex drive spiked sharply about the time I was ovulating. It’s taken me six months to realize all of these little ailments are huge signs of prolonged stress. And eating… eating… it’s taken me so long to figure out that eating doesn’t have to be about hating yourself, or punishing yourself, or about being guilty. Eating is about fueling up for the next round of weight lifting, for the next flight of stairs. There’s pleasure in eating, in fulfilling a craving, and less pleasure in overeating than I always thought.
Strength, too, has enormous benefits. I tried so hard to be thin and waifish and beat myself up because I was so big and tall, and now I realize how much strength and power there is in being big and tall. I have a body that’s great for boxing and weight lifting. Pretty perfect for it, really. I enjoy bike riding. I intend to make the weekly yoga class routine. I spent so, so long hating this body for not being Britney-Spears-Beautiful that I ignored what it *could* do. What I can teach it to do.
I just got so tired of hating myself.
And now I’m single again, and scrutinizing myself in the mirror again, this time to try and see what other people see. I’m trying to figure out if I’m attractive, really attractive in the sense that somebody would actually want to date me. Which is absurd, of course – somebody either likes you or they don’t, and there’s no use beating yourself up about that, either. But it’s on my mind. It’s something I stir around.
I am an intimidating woman. Lots of people have said so. It makes me a little sad that potential partners get freaked out by that, but why would I want to be with somebody who got freaked out by the fact that I was taller than him, or outweighed him by 30 lbs? If that’s all it takes to freak him out, the Master’s Degree and the novel writing will send him screaming for the hills.
And that’s been my problem all along. I get so excited at the idea that there’s a smart guy who’s attracted to me that I don’t stop and think. I don’t think about how equal we are, how secure he is with who I am and what I do.
For all my strength and smarts, I can still get stuck in the idea that I should feel happy just because some guy is interested in me. It’s the siren song of the media trap: you’re a strong, smart woman. You should feel lucky to end up with any guy at all.
Such bullshit.
Because if there are no strong, smart guys who can handle me, you know what? I’ve got strong, smart, friends. And those friends could give a shit if I’m a size 12 or a 22.
I am blessed. I am lucky. Because even when I’m single, I’m not alone.
That’s the trick. That’s the key. That’s what nobody talks about.
Sex and partners are great. But I’ve got friends who’ll be with me until the end of the world.
So here I sit in my size 12 pants, waiting around for more snow to fall . I don’t feel much different than I did at a 22. Maybe stronger, because of the weight lifting, lighter, more flexible. But in the mirror, I’m just me.
Just Kameron.
I write books. I’m doing Friday yoga classes. I’m teaching myself Arabic. I want to take a French class if I’m still here in the fall. I’m applying for a writing job at a gaming company. I lift weights. I enjoy boxing. I want to run around the world and back again. I want to bungee jump in New Zealand. I want to live overseas again before I’m 30. I want to get back to boxing before I’m 30. I want to hold the world in the palm of my hand, when I’m 30.
I want. I desire.
And they are the same wants and desires, whether I’m a 12 or a 22.
I realize that. I wonder if anyone else does.
20
Mar
2006
Gee, Maybe It’s All Stress
SIGNS OF STRESS:
(with an “X” by the ones I’ve had the last 6-8 months)
X sleep disturbances
X back, shoulder or neck pain
X tension or migraine headaches
X upset or acid stomach, cramps, heartburn, gas, irritable bowel syndrome
constipation, diarrhea
X weight gain or loss, eating disorders
hair loss
X muscle tension
X fatigue
high blood pressure
irregular heartbeat, palpitations
asthma or shortness of breath
chest pain
sweaty palms or hands
cold hands or feet
X skin problems (hives, eczema, psoriasis, tics, itching)
X periodontal disease, jaw pain
X reproductive problems
X immune system suppression: more colds, flu, infections
growth inhibition
X nervousness, anxiety
X depression, moodiness
“butterflies”
X irritability, frustration
X memory problems
X lack of concentration
X trouble thinking clearly
X feeling out of control
substance abuse
X phobias
X overreactions
And this tidbit: Susceptibility to yeast infections can be caused by prolonged periods of stress. Recurrent yeast infections may be from a relapse due to an alteration in the immune response system due to stress. Stress has been greatly underestimated in the cause of some illnesses and infections. You may need to find ways to reduce your stress as much as possible.
The “reproductive” problems have finally begun to ease up. It’s pretty painful to go to a doctor for the second time and hear that you don’t have a yeast infection, you don’t have an STD (well, OK, it’s *good* to hear that part) – there is, in fact, nothing wrong with you at all. Too bad for you that you’re itchy and in pain.
You’re stressed out. And your body’s telling you so.
I decided to look up symptoms of stress after reading this post over at boingboing. In addition to all the other health problems I’ve had the last 6-8 months, I noticed I was getting these itchy and/or dry patches of skin. The itchy patches are now almost completely gone, and the dry patches are as well. My heartburn has gone away since I broke up with B. I had a nightmare last night that I was sick with some horrible virus or stomach flu again. I feel like I’ve done nothing but be sick for the last year.
For some time, I’ve had trouble sleeping. I still get up 3-4 times a night. When I brush my teeth, my gums bleed a lot more than they should. And I had these days of excessive thirst where no matter how much I drank, I still felt dehydrated. My moments of claustrophobia were starting to pick up, particularly in airplanes, then on the train. My claustrophobia has been mostly dormant for some time.
I didn’t think any of these things were related.
Our client here at the day job is beginning a 3-week “work freeze” on all of their cell sites beginning the 31st.
I’m thinking that’ll be a good time to take some time off.
20
Mar
2006
Octavia Butler Clarion Scholarship
The Octavia E. Butler Memorial Scholarship will enable writers of color to attend one of the Clarion writing workshops, where Octavia got her start. It is meant to cement Octavia’s legacy by providing the same experience/opportunity that Octavia had to future generations of new writers of color. In addition to her stint as a student at the original Clarion Writers Workshop in Pennsylvania in 1970, Octavia taught several times for Clarion West in Seattle, Washington, and Clarion in East Lansing, Michigan, giving generously of her time to a cause she believed in.
The first Octavia E. Butler Memorial Scholarship will be awarded in 2007. We’ll announce details of the application process later this year.
Our goal for a fully endowed scholarship fund is $100,000. At this time, we welcome your tax deductible gift of any amount to this fund. Please use the button (on the linked page) to donate via PayPal or a major credit card. If you’d prefer to make your donation in the form of a check or money order, please make it payable to “The Carl Brandon Society” and note that it is for “The Octavia E. Butler Memorial Scholarship Fund.” Then mail your donation to:
The Octavia E. Butler
Memorial Scholarship Fund
c/o The Carl Brandon Society
P.O. Box 23336
Seattle, WA 98102
Novels
