On recent events

I haven’t had the time to post much these past weeks, and so I haven’t said much in the wake of events in Ferguson–instead I’ve been listening, thinking, listening some more.

But here’s one thought I had: Donors Choose, a site for funding classroom projects at schools around the country, allows one to sort projects by city/town. Wouldn’t it be awesome of we could get all the Ferguson school projects funded? I think it would be. Amazing numbers of people have turned out to support Ferguson’s library and buy books for its shelves this past week. Helping support the community’s schools seems the next logical step, to me. Especially since public school funding has always been more about economic privilege than we like to admit.

And here’s another, less comfortable thought: I’m grateful that I haven’t been seeing the same degree of outright racism on my social media feeds that some of my friends have seen on theirs in the wake of the Ferguson decision. But I have seen something else, and so I feel this has to be said: Saying or implying that because you see some degree of (very different, non-equivalent) bad behavior on all sides this means that either 1) no one is right or wrong or has any moral high ground, or 2) that we all need to just stop all this uncomfortable disagreeing and just behave / get along — are ways of, intentionally or not, to shutting down debate and discouraging the speaking and hearing of uncomfortable truths about racial inequalities that still very much exist in American society, at a very high cost.

If you find yourself instinctively doing this — wanting to say either “let’s not argue” or “everyone’s acting badly” I recommend stepping back and working to listen for a while instead.

If you’re white that means (if hearing race mentioned at all makes you instinctively uncomfortable that means) especially listening to voices from the black community and other communities of color.

There’s more than one reason I’m trying to listen more than speak right now.

And finally what seems to me a very relevant quote:

“Now I wanted to say something about the fact that we have lived over these last two or three summers with agony and we have seen our cities going up in flames. And I would be the first to say that I am still committed to militant, powerful, massive, non-violence as the most potent weapon in grappling with the problem from a direct action point of view. I’m absolutely convinced that a riot merely intensifies the fears of the white community while relieving the guilt. And I feel that we must always work with an effective, powerful weapon and method that brings about tangible results.

“But it is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society. These conditions are the things that cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention. And I must say tonight that a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the negro poor has worsened over the last twelve or fifteen years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice and humanity.”

–Martin Luther King Jr.

And now, back to listening.

Buy Nothing Friday, Small Business Saturday

I will, once again, be celebrating Buy Nothing Friday this Black Friday, and actively avoiding both the crowds and the idea that the more we buy, the better, or that we need as much “stuff” as so many would have us believe.

Saturday, I’ll be supporting the idea that when we do buy (less than we think we need), we can try to do our buying locally as part of Small Business Saturday.

Specifically, from 2-4 p.m. Saturday I’ll be at Tucson’s Mostly Books, recommending books to YA-inclined customers, as well as signing my own titles.

If you are out shopping, come find me there!

But, you know. If you choose to take the whole weekend off from consumerism, I respect that too. But when you do whatever holiday shopping you choose to do, do keep your local bookstores in mind. Most will even let you order online these days, just like less local booksellers do.

And Arizona makes 30

When I got married, just a few years after moving to Arizona, I took doing so rather for granted. To say my spouse and I were happy to be together would be a vast understatement–we were overjoyed, giddy, beyond-words about being together–but the actual act of marriage, the filling out of paperwork to make official what we already knew, that we took rather lightly. We were going to be together forever, after all, whether or not we had a piece of paper saying so.

I don’t take that piece of paper for granted any longer. Not because anything above is any less true now than it was the day we got married, but because along with the rest of our country we’ve witnessing couples fighting for that piece of paper I once so easily dismissed. I know there are those who worry that marriage equality will lessen the sanctity of existing marriages, but to me it’s a reminder of how valuable and worth fighting for the right to marry is–something that makes marriage more precious, not less.

But before and ahead of any of that, marriage equality is a fundamental civil rights victory. And that’s why I’m thrilled that today, Arizona has lifted its ban on same-sex marriages, and that right now, downtown in my own city, marriage licenses are being issued.

On why I won’t be doing much mommy blogging

There’s so much I want to tell you about our child. Small things, big things … for more than two decades I’ve been sharing and processing life experiences online. Doing so has become pretty instinctive for me, and becoming a family is pretty much as huge a life experience as there is.

I could probably do a pretty decent job blogging about this new journey. Writing is, after all, the thing I’ve spent the past couple decades living and breathing and learning. If I chose to tell our family’s and our child’s story online in the years ahead, I would do it well. A part of me wants to do just that.

But there’s one thing I can’t do well: tell that story in my child’s voice. This journey isn’t just my journey, after all.

There are parenting bloggers out there doing a good job, bloggers whom I’ve read and learned from, so I can’t quite take a hard and fast stand against all parent blogging. Many of these blogs work hard to maintain anonymity, too, which I think is the very least one must do when talking in any depth about children too young to give informed consent. I also know that there’s a difference between sharing trivial surface observations about things common to most children and sharing the intimate details of of a specific child’s specific life, and I’m not drawing so firm a line as to say I’ll never do the former.

It won’t be often though, and when I err, I hope to always err on the side of protecting my child, rather than of entertaining or bringing insight to readers. This post is, on one level, a simple reminder of that commitment. Young children can’t weigh in about what they do and don’t want shared, so it’s up to us to hold their experiences close and safe for them.

There’s also a larger issue here that’s more adoption specific: that adoption journeys are already too often framed in terms of the perspectives of adoptive parents instead of those of adopted children. I see this in adoption picture books that emphasize parental longing over the child’s emotional journey. I see when people tell adoptees they’re “lucky” to be in a family (as if complete strangers have the right to tell them how to feel or where their gratitude should be placed), or worse, that they’re “lucky” to be loved (as if adopted children don’t have the right to take love as much for granted as any other child, and also as if they didn’t receive and give love before they ever came to their final families). I see it, as I work to become a better and better listener, in the communities where adoptees are speaking up with increasing frequency about feeling like their own voices are far too often considered the least important voices in discussions of their own lives.

There are so many reasons to err on the side of protecting all our children and their stories until they can tell them for themselves, especially when speaking in public places–and a blog is just about as public as it gets. For more than two decades, I’ve been living a part of my life here and in other online places. Now, I’m reminded that there are parts of life that need to be lived offline, too.

So that’s what we’ll be doing.

While posts about writing, the Arizona desert, and any number of other things will, of course, continue as they always have.

Desert storms wake desert rivers

I remember, not long after moving to the desert, coming upon a broad, sandy dry gully that was labelled a “river.”

I believe, at the time, that I laughed.

After two decades of living in the desert, I don’t laugh anymore. The desert may save her rivers for special occasions, but when they come out (generally after a good hard rain), they come out in force, and don’t hold anything back.

So a couple nights ago, after a good soaking downpour, we walked down to one of the local washes to visit the river. We weren’t the only ones, because walking to the wash one of the things you do, after it rains.

(Best viewed in HD / high definition.)

The video didn’t catch the thick palm trunk, or the tree branch as tall as I was, that were both tossed downstream as if they were styrofoam-light. Or the tire that came rolling down the wash on its edge, as if it were surfing the river, until it was thrown back onto its side. Lots of flotsam and jetsam came floating by too, soda cups and water bottles and the like.

But always, it’s the water itself that most draws the eye and the ear, all that power roaring downstream.

By the next day, the wash was once again dry.

On doing a thing I needed to do

As many of you know, my first sale was to one of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover anthologies, and that sale gave me my first glimmer of hope that I could build a professional writing career. I recently had a story appear in a second Darkover anthology, produced by MZB’s estate, and I tremendously enjoyed returning to one of the places where my career began.

As some you also know, this week Marion Zimmer Bradley’s daughter revealed in public that her mother abused her.

I read and reread her daughter’s words this week. I read, too, portions of MZB’s own court deposition (from her husband’s trial, also for child abuse) that I hadn’t read before. Then yesterday I took a deep breath, and I added up the advances from my two Darkover sales, my Darkover royalties, and (at his request) my husband Larry Hammer’s payment for his sale to MZB’s magazine.

And then we made a donation to the anti-abuse charity RAINN for that amount. I’ll donate any future Darkover royalties, as well.

I remain proud of the Darkover stories I’ve written, and I respect the many fellow writers who also got their start on the pages of MZB’s anthologies and in her magazine. MZB played a huge role in many of our careers, and it’s not my intention to deny that, or to deny how deeply many readers were touched–and in some cases saved–by MZB’s work.

But I also can’t deny the harm caused by the flawed creator of that work. What I can do is see to it that my having written in her worlds goes towards fighting those same hurts and abuses in the places they’re happening now.

So that’s what I’m doing.

And I’m posting about it here–though this feels more like a personal decision than a public one–because silence about abuse creates the illusion of acceptance, and illusions gain power over time, and so sometimes, speaking aloud is more important than staying comfortable.

Faeries and zombies

Bones of Faerie is five years old this spring! I’d get all sentimental, only Liza isn’t really the sentimental sort, so instead here’s a Book Smugglers’ “Old School Wednesday” review.

“Bones of Faerie is an unexpectedly lyrical and beautifully written book – I am an immediate fan of Janni Lee Simner’s haunting prose, which captured me from the first eerie chapter. It’s a poignant, elegiac novel about a world ravaged by magic and the children who have grown up in its ruins. It is Liza’s world that is so captivating, that draws you in and defines Bones of Faerie …”

Also, the Zombies, Run! episode I wrote is now live! Specifically, it’s Season 3, Mission 6: Career Day: “Mysterious giant footprints have been spotted–could this be related to the Phantom of Abel?” I had a blast writing this, and of course, I jumped ahead and ran the mission out of order just so I could hear it. It was a blast, running to my own words–but of course, the real blast is thinking of other people running to my words.

Because, after all, we are all Runner 5.

In which Idina Menzel and Patti Griffin help me flee from zombies

I talk to Naomi Alderman about writing for Zombies, Run.

The Zombies, Run! app chooses songs from whatever playlist you feed it, and in that post, I talk about how my favorite moments are the ones when something comes up that’s wildly inappropriate for the narrative.

Today’s episode was filled with those awesome moments.

First, just as a friend has gone gray (turned into a zombie) and I’m fleeing from them, my playlist urged me to “Let It Go.”

Then, just another character was revealed to have secret zombie blood inside them, I was told “Something has changed within me. Something is not the same.”

And then a traitor was unmasked to strains of, “Don’t bring me bad news, no bad news, I don’t need none of your bad news today.”

And this is why I run from zombies.

Along the way, I’m pondering the fact that said traitor’s unmasking was utterly expected, and yet nonetheless satisfying. The discovery isn’t the only thing that makes a reveal satisfying–this is a craft thing worth thinking about some more.