On Structure

I write a lot about structure. Here is where I write about it more. CN: anxiety, emotional abuse, self-abusive thoughts, blood, needles, food/eating.


In case my many mentions of it are lost to the mists of the Internet, I thrive on structure and ritual, as a creator, a gamer, and a person. Some of that is my anxiety disorder; some of that is a result of emotional abuse at various hands, which often comes with a difficulty with spontaneity; some of that is probably just who I am. It’s not like it’s easy to separate those three things, anyway.

That love for structure is fine with me; I need what I need, even if that need changes, and it is not “wrong” or “broken” of me to structure my life, as long as I am not edging out others’ needs. But sometimes life necessitates me abandoning that structure, and yesterday the damage that can do came due in a big way.

This week is my yearly physical, which as anyone who has been following me for the past year knows is an anxious time, given that last year’s physical turned up Type 2 diabetes (and we then had to check on subsequent diabetic check-ups for kidney damage and cancer — neither of which were positive, thank goodness). So yesterday was blood draw time, which is its own microcosm of anxiety, and to do that I had to fast for twelve hours. No biggie; I packed a snack, ate it and drank some water once the draw was over and done, and got ready for brunch with a relative and a game of T.I.M.E. Stories. Things were looking up!

Except then my meal schedule was totally thrown off. I need to keep an eye on my carbs, and I need regular intake at set times (relative to each other, anyway). I got breakfast/brunch and a mid-day snack, but then didn’t really eat again until dinner, partially because nobody else seemed to want food and so I did not discuss the idea  until T.I.M.E. Stories was over (at around 7pm). By then, my blood sugar was so low (we think — I left my testing kit at home) that I could not rationally figure out what I even wanted for dinner; I felt like any choice I made was going to make others mad, and besides, if I made the wrong choice and the food I picked wasn’t satisfying, I’d be more upset because then I had to wait a couple hours to eat something that was satisfying, and Oh God maybe I just won’t eat ever again. That will be easier, right? At least if I lapse into a coma from malnutrition or something I don’t have to make decisions?

We wound up having sushi, sashimi, and tempura, which was about the right amount of carbs, with some protein and fat to help my system normalize. I felt better the instant I ate my complementary salad and miso soup. I was able to admit I was on emotional overload, and why. My food schedule was thrown by the fasting, and with it the entire axis of my day was out of alignment and what mental defenses I had for the buzz of life with anxiety were out of joint with it.

It did not help that T.I.M.E. Stories can be complicated to track in a way that find highly satisfying, but can be annoying for others (and possibly also easier for them to track mentally), so there was some negotiation between my need to obey game structure as rigidly as possible and others’ need to skip over things they saw as unnecessary — negotiation that did not happen, because when I am feeling anxious I instinctively assume my needs will not be met, and so just don’t say anything and get resentful instead. So I ended a session of one of my favorite games entirely focused on my personal statistical failures and how it could have gone better and just feeling like my day was wasted, even though realistically I actually had fun and the parts that were not fun were a matter of needing to make needs known, not anyone doing anything to me. And I thought I had handled that, so I let myself relax and sleep in, and I figured the next day I would wake up and…

…have the exact same mental collapse about breakfast that I had about the previous night’s dinner. Seriously, I stared into the fridge, my head hanging bonelessly off my neck, and almost stomped out of the house to the garage to go write until I passed out. Thank goodness I do not live alone or that might have happened (or I might have eaten an entire dozen donuts and a whole pot of coffee and done damage the other direction). Sonya made me a toaster waffle and some yogurt, and I was able to get my head screwed back on straight and start back down the road to recovery.There was no self-harm, no yelling, and the one outburst I started to have I caught myself, admitted I was melting down, and calmed back down. (The Superman wristband I wear really does help me refocus when I start the gesticulations that preface a meltdown; I highly recommend you do whatever works for you, no matter how weird.)

My takeaway here was difficult to find: how do you figure out how to make your needs known when half the problem is that you feel you’re a bad person for making your needs known? But, find it I did. In numbered list format, in the name of my own love of structure:

1. From now on, if a game has bookkeeping that needs doing, I will make sure it happens. If that means I am doing all the bookkeeping, that’s OK with me. I can even sit and get all the bookkeeping done while other people make dinner or take a smoke break or whatever they need; I can eat with one hand and roll dice with the other if I have to. But it’s happening. I have less fun if it doesn’t.

2. I will not book myself for any plans that occur within 2-4 hours of a medical test that requires fasting, unless those plans expressly involve a meal and occur in a location that I know I can get to in time to eat brunch and still have a reasonably timed snack, lunch, dinner, etc.

3. I will also preface any plan that occurs on those testing days with a statement that I have to get tests done, and that may mean I am too anxious/depressed afterwards to be around people. That may mean people, for the sake of their own time or stress management, need me to say No to plans, because I cannot be sure of a Yes. I am OK with that, because being sad about missing out is better than feeling the way I did going into dinner yesterday.

Anxiety is a maze it can be extremely difficult to find your way out of; some days, it can be tempting to end things like the final scene of The Descent, just wrapping yourself in your damage and letting the light flicker out. But thanks to my friends, my wife, and my own hard work, I think I have a map.

So yeah. How was your weekend?

On Deadlines

I’m not shy about being a creature of ritual, but it’s really coming home to roost this week.

I’ve been working overtime a lot lately — not as much as some co-workers (my work-life balance is fairly inflexible), but a lot. I came back from vacation into a maelstrom of overtime that is just now letting up (and possibly only temporarily, based on how my next project is looking). The worst part is, with system delays and impromptu meetings and the ensuing long periods where work can’t actually get done, it has thrown my schedule into utter disarray. My coffee break isn’t happening at the right times; my lunch is often off-set from its usual flow; I don’t always go home at the same time; it’s not great. I’ve been made of anxiety for a week now.

Two good things have come of the darkness, though. One: I now know I have mastered my worse anxiety impulses. I have not had the kinds of meltdowns I used to have before I recommitted myself to mindfulness and self-care; there have been periods of neat-freakishness, of stuttering, of grumpiness, but nothing explosive like there used to be. So, while I don’t like testing the strength of steel by running over it with a car, it’s nice to see that the material is resistant. (That metaphor needs some work…)

Two: I know, for sure, that it feels good to be writing on a deadline. I mentioned that, post-New Novel, I found a superhero-related open call that is due mid-September? I’ve been routinely getting 1000+ words down on that every day this week, even skipping one of my two writing days off to keep working on it. I was worried, as the overtime came rolling in at the Day Job, that I would burn myself out both doing that and trying to make a writing deadline, but the truth is, it’s helped. I’m more energetic, more creative, and more focused with a deadline staring me down, and I’m outputting higher-quality material than I might have were I just noodling. Not that there’s anything wrong with noodling — I plan to do some after I’ve submitted to Behind the Mask and before New Novel comes back to me — but after months of editing, to reach into my creativity and pull out some gems, even uncut ones, is a really good feeling.

Besides giving me a highly productive avenue for self-care, this has also taught me a lot about how to judge freelance creative work moving forward. There are times when creating is hard — I have no doubt that “Good Fences” and I will see those dark days soon, possibly during first-round edits — but there is a difference between “hard” and “actually a bad idea.” That’s where things re changing.

See, the concept of “bad idea” can be extremely difficult for me to pin down; an idea can be bad in multiple ways, not always obvious. Sometimes, a project is a bad idea for logistical reasons: the deadline is too soon for the work required, or the material too far outside my area of expertise (to the point where I will be faking my way through the content). Sometimes something about the environment or the conditions rubs me the wrong way: the market/client is squirrelly about pay rates, or the contract is oddly worded, or they have expectations  that seem odd in one way or another.  And of course, sometimes, the story idea is bad on my end: it hinges on a contrivance, or it’s problematic when examined for subtext, or it is simply something that I am not currently capable of executing with the skill and care required to stick the landing. Seeing the way I am reacting to a tight deadline but a good story concept is helping me do some emotional echolocation. I’ve already had an idea for a story that I looked at and said “OK, so this isn’t a story yet. That’s fine. I can work on this later after I’ve done some research!” Five years ago, I’d have swan-dived into the story, floundered around for a week or so, and then declared myself the Worst Writer Ever and cried myself to sleep. (You may think I exaggerate, but…)

So, bottom line here is, it’s been a rocky August, but for the improvements to myself I’m seeing, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.

Man, two blog posts in one week? I’m a rock star!

On Focus

One of the few rules I’ve been taught about blogging — besides “avoid religion and politics” — is “don’t call attention to the fact you haven’t been blogging for a while.” So yeah, I just broke that rule, because this post is about why. Don’t worry, it’s all good news.

I recently took a one-week vacation from my day job; my vacation time was in serious danger of maxing out, and I was kind of crispy anyway, so I figured, why not? The vacation started with two family plans: a board game day with my parents, and a day at the beach in Santa Cruz with Sonya’s family.

Zoom in. At the beach day, I wind up spending a lot of time with my niece and nephew(-in-law). One of them is hitting the early teenage years, and is experiencing the horror that is middle school, and in discussing Pokemon Go and anime with them, they confide in me that they sometimes feel weird about admitting to the things they like, because they feel like it’s “silly” or “too young” for them.

Being me, you can imagine I didn’t take this comment lying down. I told them: “As long as you aren’t hurting anybody, you can like whatever you like.”

I can now say I both stunned a teenager into contemplative silence, and was told that I said something inspiring. That’s a nice way to start my free time.

Zoom back out. This is where that conversation becomes an ironic echo.

In the process of this vacation, I realized three things: I actually like being a house-spouse, a lot; I am capable of a truly monstrous amount of creative productivity if that is my only “job,” even if I am also being a house-spouse; and I have been badly oversocializing myself.

I used to think I was an extrovert, and in many ways, I am, but lately I’ve become more introverted. Some of that is me embracing the fact I have a social anxiety disorder and socialization costs me mental energy; some is me getting treatment for said disorder, and realizing how much of my socializing was a need to feel included and accepted; and some is just me getting older and being a busy adult with many important things to do. At the start of my vacation, a friend messaged me about doing something over the vacation, and I locked up and realized that doing something social — with anybody, not just them — sounded like the worst thing in the world.

So I spent my vacation alone, except for some IM conversations and the company of my wife (and one Pokemon Go hunt, because heck yeah Pokemon Go). Every morning, I drank my caffeine (sometimes with a walk to the local coffee shop first), read part of Marvel’s Annihilation Omnibus, and got down to creating and cleaning. I played video games and board games when I was done. And I came back to my day job the next week, feeling more refreshed than I have in months.

I altered a teenager’s worldview by saying that liking whatever they want is not wrong, but I didn’t apply the same idea to myself until I really listened to what my brain was telling me. Games and wrestling help me look at different ways of telling stories while also relaxing me, and let me see the problems of a creator from a new viewpoint. Cleaning and cooking make me feel productive, and quiet the capitalism-fueled anxieties that both insist leisure is a societal ill and that art is not a worthwhile pursuit. Comics are not only a great way to experience stories, but are also easy for me to focus on and digest in large amounts, which is perfect for days where my anxiety is bad enough that I do not have any attention span. Being alone whenever I need to be alone is a valid way to spend my time, and I actually don’t like having too many plans. And whatever people tell me about developing my platform, it’s OK if I don’t blog for a while.

And I have not been blogging lately, it’s true, but that’s because I’ve been working on fiction instead. Since I last put text to WordPress:

  • I have finished both pre-alpha-reader edit passes on my current novel project (the unnamed “New Novel” that I have been hiding the title of out of nothing but anxiety*).
  • While amidships on the edit passes, I also sent a writing sample to Onyx Path Publishing to be considered for inclusion in a collection of Changeling: the Dreaming fiction.
  • The day after finishing the second edit pass, I hit Duotrope looking for open submission calls, and found a call from Meerkat Press due on September 15th that is right up my alley (I mean, superhero stories? Yeesh, twist my arm…). I despaired of the total lack of possibility that I might make that deadline, right before churning out a story idea and an outline over the next two days. I’m now about 2000 words into my rough draft of “Good Fences,” and am really liking where this is going, though I recognize that the Editing Saw will need to be deployed without mercy to make word count.
  • And…I have preliminary ideas penned down for a sequel to New Novel; the kernel of another short story that is for no anthology or open call in particular; and the very rawest, freshest seeds of another possible novel series that needs some research and development before I start outlining anything.

(I also still kick the tires on comic scripts here and there, though I need to start out with something less sweeping than my The Shoulders of Giants concept. I’m waiting for a short work to appear in my head that would work well in comics instead of prose so I can focus on short, “single-issue” works and perfecting the scripting form before I attempt to do something longer. (I had an idea last night, but I want to let it germinate for a bit.) It’s a whole different way of writing than I’m used to, and taking baby steps is perfectly valid (topical!).

I still have Twitter and Facebook to keep my name out there and boost the signal as necessary — arguably, those are more effective for me than WordPress, judging by the response I got for the No Sh*t, There I Was Kickstarter. If I make myself blog, I’m going to wind up writing endless columns of writing advice someone already covered, or glom onto controversies about which others have already spoken expertly. I might start curating links to those sorts of reports, actually — it’s worth boosting the signal, especially when the voices involved are typically marginalized — but in the meantime, if I don’t have an idea for what to post here, that’s OK. Lessons in self-marketing may teach me that not blogging is dangerous for my brand, but but if I want to talk about fiction writing, it’s probably best if I do some of it..And if that’s what I like, and I’m hurting nobody…that’s OK.

*I’ll reveal the title once I’m shopping it to agents and publishers. Promise.

On Horror and Recovery

CN: sexual assault, victim-blaming, enabling of abuse

This is not my story: three different people in my extended social circle have been revealed to be sexual predators. They have been banned from those spaces they could be banned from, and their victims have safe spaces and support networks available to them. I will not say any more here, lest I accidentally divulge more than the victims want divulged.

This is not my story. It’s easy for me to make it my story: to center it on me and my experience, to make it about how a white man feels about the situation. I will not co-opt the horror, the pain, the bravery, or what I hope was the relief of the victims at seeing that if nothing else, they are believed.

This is my story: I’ve been depressed and exhausted. Because of the above. Because I felt betrayed by a person who claimed to have learned from youthful indiscretions while misrepresenting to me what those “indiscretions” were; because I felt dismayed at knowing that circles I run in include people who did not believe victims when they reported, or who even shunned them or outright protected their attackers; because I was so desperate to help the victims and those who stood with them, to try to fix a situation that by its nature does not fix quickly if ever, and I overextended myself and burnt myself out.

This is not a sob-story, nor a cry for help nor pity; this is just me telling you where my energy has been going.

I’ve been writing. I’ve been writing a lot, actually. Also playing a lot of games, and spending time with Sonya, and wearing my favorite t-shirts and my favorite cologne, and everything else I can think of that falls under self-care. Sonya and the writing are tops there, especially; I’m so very lucky to have her, and I’m so very lucky my creativity is flourishing right now. But it’s been a time of processing and recharging, and that’s meant that non-vital systems — like my blog, and social media in general, and, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit, my day job — have sometimes fallen by the wayside while I ration out my energy.

I should be more active again in the next couple of weeks, but I also need some time to get my own head together and to make sure that if there is spare energy, it’s set aside for the fallout of the above, because I want to be a resource for victims and those who act on their behalf, and I also want to make sure I don’t harm myself in the process of helping others. If that means less social media from me, the choice is obvious.

Please be patient; we’re trying to build a better world, and that takes up a lot of time.

On Hearts

Externalization, Internalization, and the Problems of the Rudo Brain

Hi, I’m Tyler, and I currently cannot focus on writing because my sports team just lost.

The team in question is the San Jose Sharks, and after a beautiful, heartwarming run to the Stanley Cup Finals, they are now down 2-0 against a Pittsburgh Penguins team that just seems to have their number right now. The Finals are new territory, but the way I feel isn’t. Not because the Sharks are perennial disappointments or whatever tired narrative the sportswriters have manufactured for my team, but because I have always been this way for as long as I can remember, and I still can’t figure out how to stop.

I have always taken personally things that have nothing to do with me. I come to identify with the media I consume and love to a degree that makes it hard for me to have a critical discussion of it, at least not until I have fully internalized my opinion of it (which takes a pretty long time, because I am so susceptible to others’ opinions — it comes of self-esteem issues), and not only does criticism of that thing come to bother me, anything that could invite criticism of that thing bothers me preemptively, like I feel the haters grinning in the shadows and sharpening their knives. Sports is where this problem is the most obvious, because sports performance can be so random and hard to repeat, and losing and having bad nights is undeniably a part of it — when my sports team loses a big game, I often wind up in physical and emotional pain for hours afterwards. But it happens other places, too. When WWE fans started booing Roman Reigns, a wrestler I like alright but not extensively, I ached for the poor guy. When Joss Whedon’s latter-day works proved increasingly (or at least more visibly) problematic, I went through a period of being ashamed to admit I ever liked Buffy. And I felt betrayed and angry and sick on a deep level when Captain America revealed his allegiance to HYDRA and threw open the flood gates of the Internet (though God, am I with that crowd of critics, like whoa).

It’s not even wearing my heart on my sleeve; it’s straight up internalizing the things I love until they become me on some proto-cellular level and I wind up reacting emotionally to the simple fact that other people have different tastes than me, or indeed, that sometimes other people are jerks. That’s a poor fit for the toxic narrative that surrounds the Sharks, but also for just being a human being. People are going to like different things than me, and have insights into things I do not have, and in general be people who are not me, and that is factually OK and needs to be OK with me if I am going to function. The thing is, I have no idea how to change this about myself. I’ve been trying consciously for going on a decade now, and wishing I knew how for about twice that. I’ve improved my own toxicity in terms of how I react — there was a bit of rage-posting about Fourth Edition Dungeons & Dragons that still embarrasses me when I think about it — but that doesn’t change that tonight’s overtime loss wrecked my mood in a way that is just not tenable long-term.

I’m not writing about this to ask for solutions, or to elicit sympathy, but just to try to figure out what the tape in my head is actually saying, and to hope that in playing it to a larger audience I begin to see how ridiculous it is. Is it that I have trouble sorting out enthusiasm from total obsession, and that I am unhealthily incapable of anything but cellular-level fusion with the objects of my interest? Is it my vaunted dislike of cynicism that has me flinching at giving the cynics more fuel for their arguments? Is this just a casualty of anxiety disorder? Is it maybe all of these things at once?

I’m honestly not sure. But it’s an ongoing struggle among many (though not that many in the grand scheme of things), and for right now, it just feels good to be able to take my brain out, turn it around, and say “OK, so why are you so sad the Sharks lost, really?” And to be able to answer back “Because I hate giving anyone an excuse to call them chokers” helps, even if I don’t have an answer to the next question: “What are you gonna do about it?”

Well, I do sort of have an answer. I’m going to publish this, and go write, and then go inside and see my wife for a little while before I fall asleep. Those are things I have control over, and those are things I am grateful for. And I am going to hope that posting this helps someone else who sees themselves reflected in this mess that is my ongoing battle with my Brain Rudos, and finds themselves slightly better equipped to wage their own fight. That’s a kind of entanglement with others I can get behind.

On Spoilers and Suggestions

Toward a Unified Theory of Spoiler Windows

It came up again on my Twitter feed recently, and I feel like it’s time for me to try to get this ball rolling. (To give credit where credit is due, it was this tweet by Saladin Ahmed that got me thinking about it again, and John Scalzi .)

I’ve said for some time that the Internet really needs to get its act together on the subject of spoilers. Barring some outliers, we all seem to agree spoilers are bad as a general rule: you should be given fair warning and a chance to consent to receiving information about a story you have not experienced yet. However, the exact details are a contentious issue in both directions; I’ve encountered people who insist that saying a minor character shows up in a given book/episode is not a spoiler, and I’ve also encountered people who insist that spoiling a book released in the 90s is reason enough to rage.

I think the Internet would be a nicer place if we agreed on a statute of limitations for spoilers. It turns out, the inestimable John Scalzi already hit on this back in 2009, but given that I’m still seeing people talking about this on Facebook, clearly it didn’t stick. Also I’m not sure his numbers work, and they don’t differentiate between what I think of as “soft spoilers” (the above mentioned “minor character appears in this part of the work”) and “hard spoilers” (“X character is the murderer”). So here’s me, trying my hand on my much less circulated blog. What do you think?

Definition: Hard Spoiler vs. Soft Spoiler vs. Softest Spoiler

A “soft spoiler” is a piece of information that is not known unless one has gotten to the part of the work being discussed, but does not actually affect any particular mystery or moment of tension. Examples include the above-above-mentioned appearance of a character, but also “There’s an episode all about Character Y in Season 2 that I really love!” or “Man, you’ll love Chapter 10!”; or fairly obvious tropes of the genre/setting/main character, like mentioning that Han Solo and Chewie have a scene where they pilot the Millennium Falcon. Note that I said that a soft spoiler does not affect a mystery or moment of tension, meaning it cannot even incidentally answer a question the narrative asks prior to the point being discussed; “Han pilots the Falcon” is not a soft spoiler if the survival of Han or the Falcon is uncertain at some point prior to that scene.

A “hard spoiler” is a piece of information that is a factor in a major conflict, plot twist, or other keystone moment in the work. Examples include, yes, saying who the murderer is in a murder mystery, or saying a character dies partway into the book, or explaining the big twist of the movie. Basically, if it reveals key information ahead of the work doing so, and absolutely no mental labor is required to make that connection, it’s a hard spoiler. (See how I didn’t use examples? Good job, me!)

“Softest spoiler” is added because of the example Scalzi brings up in his own blog post (whether or not The Comedian jumped in Watchmen): a “softest spoiler” is a piece of information you get within the first couple minutes of a work beginning, or something that makes absolutely no sense without the greater context of the movie. In other words, it is still a spoiler, but it does not ruin anything for you. In the former case, you still get to have all the emotional ups and downs and big reveals of the main body of the work, because all that’s happened is someone has skipped ahead about ten pages/two minutes for you; and in the latter case, you will only realize something was a spoiler after it cannot any longer be a spoiler.

So, that down, here are my recommendations for the statute of limitations on spoilers, divided into hard, soft, and softest. My proposal is that, after the statute of limitations, you are allowed to discuss the work more or less freely, perhaps with some courtesy checks (“anyone mind spoilers for Game of Thrones?”) when speaking aloud in a group whose experiences you don’t know.

Preamble: If you are not sure how much of a spoiler something is, don’t spoil it without tagging. If there is any nuance to your interpretation, don’t spoil without tagging. And personal requests always trump the statutes of limitations: if I still haven’t read Ender’s Game and have asked to not have the ending spoiled, don’t tell me the ending of Ender’s Game.

Main body:


Softest spoilers: 48 hours (because people often don’t have cable these days and should get a chance to view it via streaming sites; most will have it within 48 hours)

Soft spoilers: One week (because people are busy and may not get to their Hulu account/DVR backlog before then)

Hard spoilers: Two months (give it plenty of time to have been available before you’re just tossing out the ending of the episode)


Softest spoilers: One month (long enough to allow people a chance to arrange child care or finish their papers or whatever and get out to the movies to see it)

Soft spoilers: Three months (long enough even second-run theaters are starting to get it)

Hard spoilers: One year (long enough for it to be widely available on DVD and streaming)

Books (Including Novellas):

Softest spoilers: One year (like Scalzi says, books take longer to reach a wider audience)

Soft spoilers: Three years (time enough for paperback and e-book versions to be created)

Hard spoilers: Five years (a nice, long period of it being available in multiple formats)

Short Stories: Double the times given for books (because short stories are even less likely to reach a widespread audience than books, and are often not presented in alternate formats for ease of reading unless they win an award or make it into a collection)


On KublaCon 2016

Where You Can Find Me

IHey everybody! With 9 days to go, I thought I should say (for what will not be the last time): I’ll be GMing at KublaCon 2016! If you want to come play some games with me, Burlingame, California is the place to be! I’ll be at the con all weekend, though typically we leave early afternoon on Monday. As far as formal events I know I will be partaking in, here’s my schedule:

On Friday, at 4pm, I’ll be demonstrating Sentinels of the Multiverse. Come see the card game I never stop gushing about!

Friday at 8pm, I’ll be running my four-color superhero one-shot, “Head Games.” “Head Games” uses the Wild Talents system with the optional Nothing But Shock and Four-Color Healing rules to give it that DC Animated Universe flavor. The game is scheduled to run four hours. Come be heroic at me!

Saturday morning at 10am, I’ll be demoing Villains of the Multiverse, the multi-villain add-on to Sentinels of the Multiverse. More of the card game that never stops! The card game is forever! The card game is legion!

Then Saturday night, I will be with Sonya, helping run support for her as she runs two sessions of “Darkbad Dungeon Dungeon” at 3:30pm and again at 8pm. “Darkbad Dungeon Dungeon” is her intentionally bad, unbalanced, randomly generated Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition dungeon crawl, and I have to say, as a playtester of the game, that it’s a whole heck of a lot of fun. I highly recommend you check it out.

Otherwise, I plan to play whatever the sign-ups afford me the opportunity to play, and generally be a kid on Christmas. If you approach me with a book, I’ll happily sign it, but I’ll also just be happy to say hello! Hope to see you there!

On Reviews: Captain America: Civil War

Some Bulleted Thoughts On One of the Best and Most Complex Superhero Movies
This is the short version while I gather my marbles and think and edit, but I want to be sure I get my thoughts out while they’re fresh.
I adored this movie, I think it’s one of the best movies to come out of the MCU (along with Winter Soldier and Iron Man 3). In no particular order because I can’t rank them, the things I loved:
  • The way they approached the plot. I never felt like the division between Team Cap and Team Iron Man was illogical or like either side was being forced to carry the Bad Decisions Ball to drive the plot forward. Both sides made good points, both sides made mistakes, and usually both sides recognized that about each other (except…see below).
  • Spider-Man. That was the best Spider-Man I have yet seen on the screen, hands-down. They nailed his awkwardness, his drive to do good with the gifts he’s been given, his youth, his genius…that’s the Peter Parker I’ve wanted all along.
  • T’Challa. He was intelligent, kind, regal, unrelenting, and burdened. He was also the most mature of all the supers to date, and his emotional struggle underlined the general emotional core of the entire movie.
  • The character moments for every single supporting character; I felt like the writers and directors bullseyed every character in this movie. Special shout-outs to the conversations between Scarlet Witch and Vision, Ant-Man totally geeking out over meeting the Avengers, the grudge held by Falcon against Bucky, and basically every scene with Cap and Tony, who were just absolutely on point.
  • The fight choreography. Those were the best superhero fights I have ever seen on-screen, hands-down, and they could so easily have been a total mess (it would have been understandable and forgivable, even). Special mentions go to: everything Ant-Man did in the airport fight (Giant-Man!); Scarlet Witch showing why actual superpowers would, in fact, terrify people; Spider-Man being the hyperkinetic ball of quips and webbing that we all know and love; Cap using that shield of his to absolutely masterful effect; and him and Bucky as the unstoppable tag team of World War II-era grit. It would be gorgeous if it weren’t also driving home how destructive superheroes can be when they let themselves go to town.
  • Speaking of which: The willingness to make sure this movie had consequences, physical and mental, for everybody involved. People got hurt. Things broke. Teams disassembled but left hope for reassembly. No-one ended sure they did the right thing (except for maybe Thunderbolt Ross, but he’s not what we call a “good guy”). The MCU was fundamentally changed by the Civil War in ways I now know I can trust Marvel to keep playing with as we go along.
  • The comedy moments. They were perfectly timed to make sure this very sad, very intense story never became more than appropriately overwhelming. (“I hate you” being a major one, along with “I’m shaking your hand too long!” and also everything involving Spider-Man).
  • The emotional core of the movie. T’Challa says it best at the end: This is a movie about people being consumed by their emotions and failing at empathy and logic as a result, but in entirely believable and often temporary ways (though not temporary enough). Tony is pro-Accords out of guilt and fear (over what he caused in Age of Ultron and what others like him could do, and how much worse it could be if superheroes did put up a fight). Steve is anti-Accords out of fears of his own (of governments overreaching like SHIELD did or like happened back in the fresh-in-his-mind World War II). Bucky is paranoid and hurt and gun-shy and tends to flee as soon as he’s in danger, which gives the people hunting him evidence to support their decision. The most dangerous, destructive moments (Crossbones’ explosion hurting all those people; Vision accidentally hitting War Machine with his laser; the entire last fight) occur because someone lets their emotions rule completely. Even our villain, Zemo, is about being so angry, so in pain, that he spends a year making sure he can inflict that pain on those he believes brought it to him.
This movie was amazing. I think I need to see it again.

On Choices No-One Should Face

Sexism, Violence, and Every Iteration of the System.

(Content Notes: Discussion of misogyny, violence of both a sexual and non-sexual nature, death threats, threats of violence, institutional discrimination)

This week, I had to ask myself the question twice: Do I choose possible once-in-a-lifetime advancements of my career, or not working with people I know to be horrible?

There were two different opportunities sitting before me this week. One was to submit a packet of writing samples and a resume to DC Comics, for a chance to get included in their Talent Development Workshop for writers. If I got into that, I would embark on a 13 week online course in writing comics that might end with a chance to write for DC. You don’t need to look through my old posts to see that this would be a dream come true for me — writing comics? Writing superhero comics? The chance to work with a professional and learn how they do things on the getting-paid side of the equation would be such a godsend…

Then, earlier this week, I was pointed to an opening at Privateer Press, the makers of Warmachine, among many other things. Privateer Press apparently needs a Copy Editor, a job for which I am qualified; and I could get in the door at a gaming company, which would marry my passions and my work, and would also facilitate Sonya and I moving to a slightly more affordable part of the country and maybe starting to get the next step of our life on the move.

“Wow!” I thought to myself. “Maybe my cup runneth over? Maybe my life could be starting to turn a big, shiny, sunlit corner? Maybe this is the next step we need! Let me polish up the resume and select some writing samples and try to remember where I was recently hearing about Privateer Press, given that I don’t play Warmachine…”

It was when I told my wife about the opening (with the lead-in “how do we feel about moving to Washington?”) that I was reminded.

An excellent, hard-to-read Tumblr post made the rounds of the social justice spheres recently, entitled “Tabletop Gaming has a White Male Terrorism Problem.” (All my content notes for this post? They apply double to that article.) The writer discusses in no uncertain terms her own experience and the shared experience of women in tabletop gaming spaces, and in the world in general — specifically, that white men are allowed to and enabled in harassing and outright assaulting women who attempt to be part of the tabletop gaming hobby, and that authorities will not help them — will, in fact, often blame them for their attempts to portray themselves as victims or otherwise attempt to cover up the truth. Among the stories related in that post is a story of a person slapping the writer across the ass while she is discussing the Privateer Press product Hordes, and the Press Ganger (Privateer Press’s game demonstrators/event organizers) who witnessed it insisting the writer was getting emotional over the whole subject. So, that gives me pause regarding Privateer Press — even if the Press Ganger’s response is not exactly a statement from the CEO.

Then there’s DC Comics. DC Comics, who continue to employ Eddie Berganza. Berganza is accused, very publicly and by multiple women, of being utterly vile toward women — harassment that, according to the tweets linked in this Mary Sue article, have actually caused DC Comics to avoid putting women to work in Berganza’s department as a form of “quarantine.” Other tweets I cannot find have been more specific about what Berganza has done, but as I cannot find them I will not engage in second-hand hearsay, only say that what he has supposedly done is absolutely vile. And while the writers are not at fault for that, and while I doubt the entire company is actively complicit in that, it leaves me wondering if applying to/being employed by DC would be interpreted as tacit condoning of Berganza’s behavior.

Which brings me back to my initial question: Which, if any, opportunities do I pursue, given that they might be interpreted by either victims or victimizers as my stamp of approval? Which brings me to my next question: Why do I have to even consider that question? Why are there so many different reports of sexual violence, of harassment and the sheltering of harassers, that I have to think this about two different opportunities I learned about in the same month?

That, right there, was the icicle to the heart. That right there was one of those moments my white male self has to sit back and go: This, self, is proof of how deep the problem really goes. And just imagine, women don’t have to just ask if they are condoning harassment — women have to ask if they are opening themselves up to that harassment. Any woman who joins the Press Gang not only has to consider whether they are saying it’s OK to touch women without their consent, they have to consider whether their body is the next to be violated. Any woman who works for DC has to wonder if they are saying that it’s OK for Berganza to behave the way he does, and also whether they are putting themselves in the line of fire for the Berganzas of the world to attack next.

These are the questions women have to ask every day, self; these are the risks they have to take for the crime of doing something they want to do while also identifying as, or being identified as, a woman.

And this is a question we all have to keep asking. How do I know no-one at my current office is horrible? How do I know any given publisher I work with has no-one who is horrible? It’s easy when I work at smaller companies like my current one, but it’s not like I have never had a toxic interaction there. It’s easier with smaller presses like Alliteration Ink, where there are single-digit employees and a clear harassment policy, but what if I ever get picked up by Penguin Random House or Harper Collins? What if I move on to copy edit at a large corporation? What if, in a some-day life as a freelancer, the jobs that will put food on my table are coming from Gators, from Puppies, from people who hold or have held MRA views? How do I reconcile my promise to believe the victims with my own desire to advance my own life, and what does that say to the marginalized people in my life about how I value my life over theirs?

I did decide to apply to DC, with the reasoning that the whole company is not Berganza, and that I could help from within the offices more than I could from outside, at least by being a voice of privilege corroborating the stories coming from voices more traditionally silenced. But I recognize the enormous privilege shielding me in this case, and I recognize that this does not change the basic truth at work here.

No-one should have to make a binary choice between full-throated success and dealing with terrible people. The victimizers, not the victims, should be the casualties of restructuring, the ones having trouble finding work, the ones who have to explain themselves and apologize and work their way back into the good graces of those in powerr. This needs to change. And there is not a one of us who does not need to be involved in changing it.

It’s so easy for me to say. Let’s see if I can do it. Mostly, today, I am hoping that someone besides me is now really thinking about this, and that some day very soon, we push hard enough that no-one has to think about it anymore.

On Tolerance and the Cartoons Who Practice It

The Social Justice and Storytelling Masterclass of Zootopia

So, I finally went and saw Zootopia this weekend. tl;dr: “Wow” on all levels.

OK, who came to this blog looking for the short version, anyway?

Let me first hit the point that everyone is hitting, and say that this really is as beautifully stated a message of tolerance and inclusivity as I have seen put on the big screen. It has a message about racism, for sure, but it’s also a message of treating people as a collection of individuals, not judging them based on superficial assumptions, the damage careless words can do, the healing careful words can bring, and the poisonous power of assumptions. It also teaches that no-one is perfect, that people do bad things for good reasons, that people do good things for bad reasons, and that prejudice can be a powerful weapon if it’s allowed to go unquestioned (and that questioning hatred is always the right thing to do). On top of that, it is also a beautifully structured movie that serves as a fantastic introduction to the art of storytelling. I’d show this to any child I was lucky enough to help raise, and also to anyone who wants to be a writer of any stripe.

That’s the spoiler-free version of my thoughts. Everything after this contains spoilers.

The thing I adore about the inclusivity message in Zootopia is how deeply it runs. This is not just a movie where everyone else learns to respect the bunny as a police officer and the bunny learns to trust a fox; it’s that, for sure, but it’s so much more. It’s also a movie that shows people being…people. The victims of prejudice are not just victims; their behavior is informed by the prejudice they have experienced, and they have found some strength in their victimhood, but they have also been blinded to (or self-justified) their own prejudices. Authority figures are shown as, well, the kind of people who tend to seek power — the well-meaning who get blinkered by “big picture” thinking (Mayor Lionheart), the angry and the wounded who want to hurt as a response to having been hurt (Assistant Mayor Bellwether) — but most importantly as people, with good bits and bad bits mixed in together. (Also, note that Lionheart is still in jail at the end of the movie — he isn’t given a pass for doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, and that’s an important lesson to dispense.) Stereotypes are shown to be inaccurate, and while some people are shown living up to certain of those stereotypes, they are almost all either doing it deliberately (Nick’s decision to double down on the “sly fox” archetype) or are also radical departures from the stereotype in another way (Flash the sloth being the most obvious one), and just as many, if not more, people are shown totally bucking them (Clawhauser’s love of donuts and lack of physical fitness — by the way, kudos for not turning him into a fat joke, Disney).

Zootopia also treats prejudice as something that is countered by deliberate acknowledgment and action — and shows how important thinking about the implications of our actions can be. Through Judy’s unfortunate press conference midway through, we see the incredible damage words can do when deployed inexpertly or thoughtlessly; but we also see the power of an apology and forgiveness when Nick forgives her and their reunion allows them to crack the case. Judy’s parents hire on Gideon Grey when they decide, through Judy’s actions, to acknowledge their own bias against foxes and give Gideon another chance — a chance which pays off both in the story of the movie and in Judy and Gideon getting a chance to reconcile over Gideon’s childhood behavior. It shows adulthood — well, life in general — as complex and, as Judy puts it, “messy.” I don’t think it’s an accident that Judy successfully cracks the case by employing the very real police tactic of looking the other way for minor crimes as a bargaining chit to get information on more serious infractions.

These points have all been made eloquently in other places, I realize, but I want to make sure they are repeated. What I haven’t seen discussed (and I may just not be looking in the right places) is just how well this movie can be used to teach someone how to write a good story; I’d even argue this movie should be taught to young creative writing students as a masterclass in the structure. It is a very basic story with a lot of great flavor and depth to the meat that’s put on those bones. The twists and turns of the narrative feel natural and always feed back into the basic messages of the film. It has rising and falling action, building to a climax that does not use simple violence (though, that too) to make the scene feel personal and intense. It has an ending that wraps everything up neatly while still leaving some realistically messy bits. On another level, it uses tropes of its parent genre (noir detective films) in an inventive and fun way, and it stays true to its own premise in the details of the world the characters live in. I aspire to write something as beautifully simple and yet wondrously complex as Zootopia, and if I succeed in sharing something like it with the world, I will consider my life to have been a legendary success.

In other words, if you haven’t seen it already: go.