Catch Your Copy of SIRENS Today!

It's heeeeere!

The Sirens anthology comes out today, stuffed to the gills with siren-y goodness. My story, "The Fisherman and the Golem," lies waiting inside to entice you into deep literary waters, and it is in some stellar company. If you're wondering where you can pick up your copy, see below for details!

World Weaver Press -- http://www.worldweaverpress.com/store/p108/Sirens.html

Amazon -- https://www.amazon.com/Sirens-Rhonda-Parrishs-Magical-Menageries-ebook/dp/B01E519OI8/ 

Kobo -- https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/sirens-9

B & N -- http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sirens-rhonda-parrish/1123663386?ean=2940153229133

Anyhow, I do hope you'll pick up a copy, and if you do, I'd appreciate you taking the time to review it on Amazon and Goodreads! It's a great signal boost for the anthology, and I'd love to hear what you all think of it!

Incidentally, Bailey the cosplaying beagle gave it 5 out of 5 stars! Even better than a slice of cheddar cheese, and at least as good as a tummy rub.

Forgive Me, I Must Take a Brief Break to Rant About Why Comcast is Literally the Worst

A long, long time ago, in an apartment not so far away, I had Comcast cable and internet. It worked without a hitch for 4 years. Then I moved one street over to a new apartment. The night I moved in, I tried setting everything up, but it wasn’t working. I ended up having to call the next day and make sure things were activated properly. No big. That was to be expected. 

Then about three days later, I get a voicemail from Comcast asking if I wanted to cancel service at my old apartment. “That’s weird,” I said to myself. “I called and set that all up a week in advance.” So I called and explained this same information to a representative and made sure that the service for the old apartment was off and I was not being charged past the date I had originally arranged for it to be shut off. And that was that.

Or, well, I wish it was. I got back home from walking my dog and turned on my TV. My cable wasn’t working. Okay, seriously? When I cancelled my service, I meant for the place I USED to live, not the place I currently lived. Did they get it mixed up? Sighing, I called tech support. There was much troubleshooting. It did not work. Not only did it not work, but while I was talking to the guy, he kept asking me things about my internet. “My internet is working fine,” I told him. “Please don’t change anything about my internet.” 

Then my internet went down.

I was starting to get really annoyed. The guy I was speaking to wasn’t able to help me. He had to pass me off to someone else. That guy also was not able to help me. I had been on the phone for a long time now. My patience was wearing thin. I ended up asking to be transferred to someone who could fix my internet and just said, “Screw the TV. I need the internet more.” 

I was transferred to someone who helped me get my internet fixed. My cable was still down.

I called again later to try and schedule a technician visit. I explained that I’d had a lot of trouble with my service. I told her I did not want to pay for a technician and I’d almost rather just cancel my cable, since I mostly watch Netflix, anyhow. I was convinced to have a technician visit based upon the promise that I would not pay a fee for his visit no matter what. I was told that ordinarily, they charge a fee only if the problem is your fault, but no matter what, I would not be charged. (I may have actually been told this by more than one rep. I sort of remember that I was.) So I agreed, and they scheduled the visit for early Saturday morning. In the meantime, I had no cable for about a week.

When the cable guy showed up, it took him seconds to realize what was wrong. “They sent so many reset signals to the box that they fried the card inside,” he explained. “This box is no good. I’ll replace it and you’ll be up and running.” So he replaced it, and lo and behold, I was back in business. He also noted that the last tech had hooked up my cable with colored cords instead of an HDMI cable, which meant that I was paying extra for HD TV for all the years since that tech visited (my now 3-year-old dog was a puppy then), but I wasn’t actually receiving it.

For a while, everything was okay. Then, about two or three days later, I went to record something on my DVR. It didn’t work. I called in for technical support. After going through all the troubleshooting steps again, it turns out that this box was also defective. They promised to send me a new one in the mail. In the meantime, I was without a working DVR for three or four days.

The new DVR came in the mail. I hooked it up. I believe I had to call tech support (AGAIN) to get it working, but it worked. I was relieved. For a few days.

A few days later, I received two bills that didn’t make sense. I called to inquire, and the guy I spoke to was very nice and told me that I didn’t owe anything for the old apartment or the new. I would have no payment that month. He also fixed it so that I could see my account using my old Comcast email address to log in.

I logged in afterwards and noticed that it was showing a $67 bill coming up due. Um, okay, that’s not what he told me. Anyhow, I paid it, because whatever.

I didn’t use my cable for a while. I really don’t watch TV much, at least not outside of Netflix and Hulu. As a matter of fact, I kept trying to cancel it, and Comcast told me they’d jack up my rate for the pleasure of providing me with fewer services. I only got this “discount” because I bundled my services. Again, whatever. 

Sunday, which was about exactly a month since I moved, I turned on my cable to watch “Game of Thrones,” which is my absolute favorite show. My cable was not working. My heart racing in panic, I called for tech support. They tried to send a reset signal and my box didn’t react. They had me turn it off and on. After a friend on Facebook alerted me to the fact that I could watch online, I hung up on them. They’d left me on hold again anyhow. I went to watch my show on my computer, vowing to call back the next day and cancel my cable.

When I followed through on my plan, I was met by the usual dialogue: I could absolutely do that if I wanted to, but they were going to charge me significantly more because my services weren’t bundled. We went back and forth, and ultimately I got tired of arguing how stupid it was that I couldn’t get them to do less for me without paying them more money. Ultimately, she offered me a discount on my HD TV Fee and transferred me to tech support. 

The person I spoke to next was one of those rare people at Comcast who knew her ass from a hole in the ground. Within a few minutes, she figured out that my cable box was listed for the wrong outlet, which is why they couldn’t send it signals. She fixed it, and I was back in business.

Two days later, I get a bill in the mail. $156 dollars. I’m supposed to be paying $69.99 a month. I have no idea where the Hell this number came from. I call to ask for an explanation. While I’m on the phone, I notice a technician fee. I explain that I was promised by a customer service rep that I would not pay a fee for his visit no matter what. I also told her that the man told me the equipment malfunctioned because Comcast customer service reps sent too many reset signals and fried my box. She scoffed like she knew that wasn’t possible (I’m sure she builds cable boxes in her spare time, she totally knows more than the technician), and she said it’s their policy to charge NO MATTER WHY THE PROBLEM HAPPENED unless you pay additional fees for a customer protection plan. I pointed out how ridiculous it was that I should have to pay a fee to fix a problem Comcast customer service caused. I also pointed out that I was told that they usually didn’t charge if the problem was on their end and not mine. She told me that’s not true. THEY ALWAYS CHARGE EVEN IF IT’S THEIR FAULT.

Ultimately, I told her the charge goes away or it’s the last thing they’ll ever charge me for. She said all she could do was give me a $20 credit and put in a ticket on the remaining $30. She said they’d research my (many, many) prior calls to confirm that I was promised there would be no charge, and that they’d contact the cable guy (who apparently wrote down on his paperwork that the complaint was invalid or something). I have to wait to hear back on May 19th. 

At this point, I would sell my soul to get out of having to use Comcast. This is the worst service I’ve ever gotten from anybody anywhere. They overcharge like crazy, and only every fifth person I speak to has any freaking clue what he/she is talking about. They all tell me different, conflicting things every time I call. This is the policy, until I speak to someone else, and then it’s not. This is what I owe, until I double check on the internet and find out that’s wrong. This is the problem, until I call someone different and find out that wasn’t it. I haven’t had consistent, working service for more than four consecutive days since I’ve moved here. I’ve spent more time on the phone with Comcast than I have talking to loved ones. My stress level is through the roof, and their overriding policy seems to be to gouge money from customers in every way possible. If there is service from any other company available in your area, please, for God’s sake, take it. Don’t deal with what I’m dealing with. It’ll take years off your life. I hear Verizon Fios and AT&T uverse are good. If they were available in my area, I’d leave Comcast so fast there’d be a cartoon puff of smoke where I used to be in their customer files.

The Devolution of Carol Peletier

**If you haven't watched the season six finale of "The Walking Dead," TURN BACK NOW!**

“The Walking Dead” has often struggled with its representation of women. For instance, we had Andrea, whose eharmony profile could have read, “I enjoy pina colodas, getting caught in the rain, and sleeping with psychopaths who are all about that premeditated murder.” Then there was Beth, who spent a lot of time being pretty and singing in the background like some sort of post-apocalyptic Disney princess. During her involuntary stay at the hospital, she finally began to show some real agency, only to die a pointless and inane death in order to give the other characters FEELINGS. And don’t even get me started on Lori, who occasionally took a break from being a neglectful mother and an awful wife to snap at other women for being useful in ways that didn’t involve housework. 

God image found here.

Things have gotten better. Michonne is a smart, capable woman warrior with a good heart. Maggie, who was always likable and intelligent, has come into her own over the seasons as a fighter and a leader. Rosita may be criminally underdeveloped, but girlfriend knows her way around a firearm. And Sasha is a strong character who gave us an intriguing depiction of PTSD. But the biggest saving grace for “The Walking Dead” when it comes to its portrayal of women was Carol Peletier. And believe me, those are words I’d never thought I’d say.

There was a time when Carol was near the top of the list of the people I didn't mind dying to feed the show’s body count. Shrinking and meek, she seemed to exist in those early seasons solely to feed Daryl’s character development as he transformed from surly redneck menace to gentle victim hiding his bruised heart behind manly posturing. 

Found here.

Then Carol became intriguingly complex. For the good of the group, she killed and burned two sick people to keep their illness from spreading. When Lizzie’s mental illness manifested, making it clear that she was a liability and there was no way to save her, Carol was the one who stepped up and told her to “look at the flowers.” Then Terminus happened, and Carol the battered housewife became freaking Rambo. No, actually, I think Carol Peletier might be the boogey man that Rambo checks his closet for before he can fall asleep at night. The effectiveness of her one-woman assault to save her friends from the cannibals was awe-inspiring. And just when you thought that she was going to openly embrace being the action hero goddess that her friends knew her to be, she went undercover in Alexandria, simpering, wearing cardigans, and baking cookies like a wily, post-apocalyptic Martha Stewart. By this time, Carol had learned all about the element of surprise, and nothing surprises people more than a pink-cheeked, doe-eyed housewife who can mow down ranks of Wolves without batting an eyelash. In this manner did she go from being a ho hum trope to being one of my absolute favorite characters. 

But of course, the good “Walking Dead” giveth, and then the good “Walking Dead” taketh away. Just as Carol was beginning to shine as a beacon, being one of the few, precious female antiheroes on TV, she suddenly began to dim.

There was no build up. No arc. No trigger. One minute, Carol’s Facebook status was, “I will totally kill Morgan for not killing people.” The next, she’s posted, “OH MY GOD, I’VE BEEN MURDERING PEOPLE ALL THIS TIME???!!? WHY DIDN’T SOMEONE TELL ME?!” (See below.)

Yes, I made this. Yes, I need a life.

I realize that a crisis of conscience is an inherently internal thing, but this is a TV show. In a novel, you could just ramble out her internal monologue so that the reader could follow her thinking. In a show, I need to see what happened to trigger the character arc so I can follow along and evaluate whether it makes sense. Otherwise, the character develops BECAUSE THE WRITERS SAY SO, THAT’S WHY, which is seldom an acceptable reason. And honestly, the only thing that’s been suggested so far as a trigger for her recent transformation is the death of Sam, the kid she threatened and bullied until he got himself killed. After all, she did leave cookies on his grave. The problem is, his death was not her fault. She also had no time to develop any sort of attachment to him. As my friend pointed out, she actually bonded more with Lizzie before she shot her in the head and still walked away without coming anywhere near the mental collapse she suffered in season six's final episode.

Ultimately, no matter why they decided to turn Carol the Badass into Carol the Whiney Crybaby, it’s not a good reason. Carol the Badass was complicated and interesting. As a rare, morally ambiguous woman who is able to use the fact that people underestimate her to her advantage, she was the TV heroine equivalent of a goddamn unicorn. As a woman whose emotions suddenly got the best of her, putting her and her friends in danger, she’s as common as a TV trope penny. “The Walking Dead” fans deserve better than tired tropes. The fans deserve Carol the Badass. 

In Which the Struggle is Real, but Infinitely Worthwhile

Once upon a time (in April of 2014, to be exact), I wrote a story that I knew in my bones was good. I was feeling the characters, the dialogue was flowing like coffee in Starbucks during rush hour, and I was still grooving enough on the last Patricia McKillip book I’d read to find flinging out pretty descriptions to be relatively easy. However, by the time I finished it about a month and a half later, I also knew with the deepest, most unshakable certainty that I had gotten the ending completely freaking wrong.

I edited it and I stared at it. I edited it some more, and sent it off to beta readers. While they were reading it, I stared at it again, making half-hearted tweaks. Finally, when not even the most brilliant beta in the pool could diagnose the source of the suckage I sensed, I stuck the damn story in a drawer and flounced off to work on something else. After about five months, it began to seem more and more likely that this story was doomed to molder away in the graveyard file until it was nothing but the bones of a good idea buried under a mountain of angst and regret.

Still, there was something in that story I just couldn’t give up on. One November evening, I steeled myself enough to take the story out and tinker with it again. I reread it, and I started to remember why I loved the story in the first place. The wariness and the doubt melted away, and suddenly, the ending came crashing down on my hapless brain in a tidal wave of plot. I didn’t just know it, I saw it, unfurling like a movie in my head in full color, surround sound, rock-your-face-off detail. It took one hour to dash off the ending. One hour, after being stuck for almost half a year. When I sent it to my most trusted beta reader, the reply I got back could be summed up as “Wow.” I knew in my heart that I’d finally gotten it right this time. The ending rang true, the plot flowed naturally, and the story was exactly what I needed it to be.

Fast-forward a year and three months later, and it turns out that it works for someone else, too. Or at least so I assume, because someone offered to buy it. That’s right, my little story that could, “The Fisherman and the Golem,” is going to be published this summer in an anthology called SIRENS which will be edited by Rhonda Parrish and published by World Weaver Press. It is the perfect ending to the epic saga that began when I sat down to write so long ago in April in a world where perfect endings are often elusive. Trust me, I know.  ;)

Now, for no good reason, allow me to end this post with a picture of my dog and his new guard dog sign.

Book Review: Frostflower and Thorn by Phyllis Ann Karr

Buy your copy here.

I went into FROSTFLOWER AND THORN forewarned, so I feel compelled to forewarn in this review: this fantasy novel depicts rape and torture. I'm normally not a fan of reading novels that feature rape because it's often used to bring angst to the people around the survivor without focusing on the consequences to the survivor him/herself. There are also authors who use rape as a way to create a gritty atmosphere for their world in much the same way that one might hang up cheap paper streamers at a party to create a festive air, and with much less thought. However, this book neatly avoided both pitfalls and handled the subject with sensitivity. Oh, and it was awesome, on top of that.

The story takes place in a world where only women are warriors. This sounds like a very feminist concept, but actually, women are warriors because the religion in this world teaches that men are too valuable to risk themselves. I found the idea interesting, because it justifies women dominating the battlefield without hand-waving at the logic that women are generally physically weaker than men. Plus, to me, it is not that different from our own world-- it’s only that the manner in which men are put forth as being of greater worth manifests differently.

An older version of the cover.

In any case, it is against this background that we meet Thorn, a badass warrior with a sharp tongue and a strong sword arm. Thorn is dealing with the consequences of being a woman who enjoys sex and isn’t afraid to indulge, but lives in a medieval society sans reliable birth control: she is in the early stages of an unwanted pregnancy and looking to get rid of it. By chance, she crosses paths with a sorceron named Frostflower. Frostflower offers to use magic to help Thorn get rid of her offspring, and all she asks in payment is the child, himself. Thorn is a little unnerved by the notion of subjecting herself to sorcery, but Frostflower promises that she can make it happen in the space of an afternoon, and Thorn is desperate. She doesn’t have the coin to pay a physician or an aborter, and as a freelance warrior of sorts, she’s not in a position to keep the child even if she had a motherly bone in her body (which she doesn’t).

In this manner are we introduced to the powers of the sorcereri, Phyllis Ann Karr’s version of magic-users. It turns out that one of their abilities is to “speed time.” By tapping into the life force of a creature or a plant, a sorceron can age it forward. Frostflower uses this ability to hasten Thorn’s pregnancy along and safely deliver the child. Frostflower names him Starwind, and it is obvious from the start that she treasures him. The sorcereri take vows of truth, prudence, and purity. They cannot lie, be reckless, or have sex without losing their powers. Therefore, Frostflower had no other way to have a child of her own if she wished to keep her abilities, and it is clear that she very much wanted to have one.

The trouble is, people in this world are suspicious of sorcereri. If Frostflower is seen carrying the child to her retreat alone, people will assume that she stole him, because they know she cannot have had him the natural way. There are also those who would see the child as an abomination if they discovered that he was sorcered out of the womb, so that part is best kept secret. While she does have the power to snatch lightning bolts from the sky and age people who touch her, for the most part, her powers are no defense. The vows of the sorcereri bind them from doing harm, so Frostflower cannot defend herself directly. Grudgingly, Thorn agrees to accompany her to help deflect suspicion. Over the course of the journey, an unlikely friendship begins to blossom between the pair.

Unfortunately, they run afoul of Maldron, a farmer-priest who rules the territory they are passing through. Frostflower and Thorn manage to escape him, but become outlaws in the process. If Thorn is caught, her guts will be filled with stones and she'll be hung on a gibbet to die. If Frostflower is caught, she’ll be raped to strip her of her powers and possibly gibbeted, as well. The story follows the women’s attempts to win free of Maldron, their developing relationship, and the consequences of each having her faith challenged through her association with the other.

Now, I’ve mentioned before that I’m a slow reader who tends to languish over the pages to suss out every ounce of meaning and enjoyment. Well, I finished this book in a week. I couldn’t put it down, or at least not for long. I read it with my morning coffee, and on my lunch breaks. Then when I went to bed, I’d switch on a lamp, pick up my ipad, and go back to it.

The prose is solid, and the characters are well-rounded and relatable. I admired tough, blunt, capable Thorn, and gentle, thoughtful, intelligent Frostflower, appreciating both their virtues and their flaws. In particular, I looked forward to Thorn's point-of-view scenes, because there was something so unique and mesmerizing about this rough-spoken, cynical warrior that I loved being in her head. Some of the secondary characters are also unexpectedly intriguing. Spendwell, a soft, cowardly-seeming merchant, initially seems to be nothing more than one of Thorn’s bed partners. As the plot unfolds, he becomes much more, for good and for ill. And Inmara, Maldron’s senior wife, could have presented as a two-dimensional villain, but is ultimately nuanced and complex. She has her own motives and sympathies, and even when her goals run counter to Frostflower’s, it is hard to dislike her.

The pacing was at least partly to blame for while I churned through this book so quickly. I was heavily invested in the characters early on, which made it hard enough to drop in my bookmark and walk away, but every time I tried to put it down, the tension was running too high and I was too concerned to do so. The action was intense, and ultimately built up to a satisfying ending.

If I had to nitpick and find something about this book that I disliked, I suppose it would be that the mystery created by the climax was never resolved in this book. Without an explanation, it felt either like a convenient development or the setup to a sequel. Given that a sequel exists, that seems to answer that question. Ultimately, if you’re looking for a book with awesome world-building, great characters, and a fine balancing of grit and heart, this is the book for you.

TV Show Review: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

So I know people were concerned, based on the advertising and the title, that this show was going to be sexist. Well, I randomly decided to watch the first five episodes and thus far, it doesn't trouble me at all. The story revolves around a young, successful woman named Rebecca. She's a Harvard and Yale-educated attorney who is on the verge of being made a junior partner at her law firm. She has everything she could possibly want, but she's stressed out, does nothing but work, and is utterly miserable. She keeps seeing these butter advertisements that ask, "When was the last time you were truly happy?" Well, one day she's walking down the street and she sees Josh.

Josh, you see, was her camp boyfriend when she was 16. He's a sweet, hunky dude with a positive personality and a laid-back attitude. When he sees Rebecca, he tells her he's been living in New York for a few months, but it's just not for him, so he's moving back home to West Covina, California. As an aside, he tells her it's too bad they didn't meet sooner, seeing as she's so hot and successful now. He tells her if she's ever in California, she should give him a call.

Rebecca's eyes glaze over as Josh walks away, and before you know it, she's turning down the partnership and moving to West Covina, California.

From day one, Rebecca is majorly in denial about why she moved to California. After all, West Covina is no paradise. It's portrayed as a shabby suburb four hours from the beach with an overabundance of pawn shops, cash advance stores, and strip clubs. But she insists to everyone that she is here for a fresh start, and West Covina just happened to be the perfect place for her. Yet, all the while, she's still looking for a way to get back together with Josh.

Despite Rebecca's decision to move across the United States to chase some guy she dated over a decade ago, she's actually pretty damn relatable. She's someone who was miserable and looking for a way out, and Josh just happened to suggest one. She has a feverish need for other people's approval, perhaps to make up for the approval she never got from her parents, and much better work skills than personal skills. She's also witty and quirky and prone to make literary allusions and do things like give courtly bows. All these things make her a girl after my own heart. And she's not entirely unaware of how bad her decision-making skills are. The one time she starts to realize that she moved to West Covina for Josh, she almost has a nervous breakdown. Luckily, her paralegal/new BFF, Paula, was there to talk her down from the ledge.

Oh, and did I mention that it's a musical? Yeah, that's the best part. For example, there's the "Sexy Getting Ready Song" in episode 1, which actually shows how unsexy the process of getting ready to go out really is. (Body hair removal, anyone?) 

Then there's the song about her girl crush, Valencia the yoga instructor, in which Rebecca confesses that she wants to grind Valencia's skin into a powder and snort it like cocaine. My personal favorite is "Face Your Fears," a song Paula sings when she's trying to encourage Rebecca to throw a party to get Josh to come over.

In any case, this show surprised me. There were some aspects of the plot I was 100% on board with, but I'm willing to see how they play out and I didn't find them upsetting or offensive. On the whole, though, I enjoyed it immensely and ended up going through the first five episodes in a single night. So if you like musicals, check out an episode and prepare to be surprised, yourself.

Book Review: Eight Days of Luke by Diana Wynne Jones

Long before a lovable orphan named Harry suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, a lovable cricket-playing orphan named David Allard was hating life with his awful relations, Uncle Bernard, Aunt Dot, and Cousin Ronald. He tries hard to be grateful for the way they've looked after him since his parents died, but it's tough when all they seem to want to do is criticize him or send him away. When he gets stuck in their company one summer, he glumly anticipates months of misery.

Buy your copy here.

That is, until he meets Luke. Or, if Luke is to be believed, until he released Luke from a magical snake-filled prison. 

At first, it seems like Luke, charming and fun as he might be, is just plain bonkers. However, David's skepticism is put to the test when he's able to summon his new friend with the flick of a match. Add to that Luke's ability to start fires and wither plants with a touch and maybe he's not so crazy, after all.

But the trouble is, the folks who put Luke in prison aren't pleased by his escape. One by one, they show up to try to trick or force Luke's location out of David, with the most savvy participant in this battle of wills being a one-eyed gent who keeps company with a pair of ravens.

Ultimately, David will bargain with the one-eyed man to try to keep Luke safe, thereby embarking upon a quest that takes him through a bevy of Norse myths come to life.

EIGHT DAYS OF LUKE is a charming tale steeped in mythology, but offering a new and unique perspective on it. Between Diana Wynne Jones' capable prose and the likable main character, the pages flew by for me. Odd as he was, I also loved Luke, and at least one of David's relations turned out to be unexpectedly kind. If I had any quibble with this book, it's that I'd hoped for some clever twist or reveal as the pieces came together, a la HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE, but alas, I knew my Norse mythology too well to be surprised by certain aspects of the plot. Still, even without any shocking twists or turns, this book is entertaining and well-written. I had fun trying to guess how each character and location fit into the Norse mythology motif. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and would recommend it to any mythology buff looking for a fun read that still has some cleverness to it.