“Take your power seriously. Keep each other safe. Be indomitable.”
Above is the ten-word signature line used by a character I write for, a young woman who was put into an impossible predicament and tasked to claw her way out, eventually turning her situation fully to her advantage. She was inspired by many women I’ve known in my life including those who folks knew not to cross: matriarchs who understood how and when to use their power.
I recently advocated online that women should not only be willing to use their power but, in situations where knuckleheads aren’t taking subtle hints, they should damn well assert it. It cannot be 100% on the guy to figure out that “let’s go slow” is code for “back off creep” when that reply sounds in any way coy or negotiable, even under the guise of safety. If the advance continues in spite of light protest, the lady needs to be taken seriously with a firm, practiced, and irrefutable “no.”
I was told to burn in Hell for that assertion.
In social media circles, I’m told I’m fearless for speaking my mind with a sharp knack for articulating it. The topic of discussion was that “celebrity” and the article written by his unidentified date, sparking an overdue debate on whether it was just a bad night or sexual misconduct… but also who was to blame. In what should be a clear learning opportunity, a number of folks are saying that the celebrity bears 100% of the responsibility for how the date failed.
Sorry not sorry, but that’s wrong, and there’s a reason I spoke up against it.
Continue reading “Take Your Power Seriously. Keep Each Other Safe. Be Indomitable.”
Am I the only one who sees the irony in being a Grim Reaper cosplayer before and after almost becoming his most recent acquisition? No wait; don’t answer… there’s more! There’s nothing quite like a near-life experience to remind you of priorities and those I’ll-get-to-them-eventually plans. I came quite close to death a year ago, so now I’m getting closer to Death as a way to celebrate my extension.
I joined a gym, healed up, and have kept it going; youthful energy is a good thing. I’ve earned my way up to a better day job, rebuilt my workshop as well as upgraded my crypt for you-know-who, and pushed forward in all the things I want to accomplish. I need to get four books out the door before Christmas 2017 — my fourth Matriarch book, two new Spooky books and a novel-sized Spooky anthology — plus launch a few other ideas I’ve had… including (fingers crossed) a regular web show featuring Grim D. about movies and general pop culture with a Halloween twist.
For today, however, I’ll continue to catch up on my reading… including this book Grim left for me as a gift.
I’ve talked previously about the inspirations for my vampire novel series, The Matriarch Vampires. The central West Virginia locations, Glenville State College, and the character nods. After shelving the original first drafts of the book two decades earlier, why did I feel it was time to dust them off and finally finish the story?
One of those reasons was certainly Jonathan Weiss.
My wife and I enjoy walking through old cemeteries and taking local ghost tours. There are many haunted places around the U.S., often in old cities like Birmingham, Alabama, Savannah, Georgia, and St. Augustine, Florida. Back in 2010, we traveled to New Orleans and took such a tour, and our guide to the city at night was none other than Jonathan. He looked the way I imagine a time traveler might, combining a classic appearance with a modern sensibility, a person whom has long since reconciled the old and new ways with a natural ease, elegance, and an eagerness to share his experience.
Not having given much serious thought about fiction writing for twenty odd years, Mr. Weiss captured my attention and filled my imagination with stories and embellishments as we toured the French Quarter and Bourbon Street, recounting local legends with intriguing details and playing to the crowd… and yes, much was said about vampires. He and other occupants felt like a necessary part of the city, a piece of its soul that would be lost forever if abruptly cut out.
Yet, as I understand it, that’s exactly what some are trying to do.
Continue reading “Local Color and Vampire Inspiration: The Big Easy”
Pat and Shannon are best friends — like their parents before them.
Whenever their parents visited, Pat would play in Shannon’s front yard where they both could be seen. There were two rules: always stay in the yard and don’t approach strange animals from the neighborhood. If anyone asked, Shannon’s parents explained strays had a history of snapping at children even after appearing friendly, and they were fearful of someone getting bit.
Whenever a stray came into the yard, Shannon shooed it away but Pat ran toward it, sometimes following it into the street between two parked vehicles. From the yard, Shannon could see any cars coming, often having to call out to keep Pat from being hit.
Shannon loved having a playmate but didn’t like constantly being the protector. Pat had never been bitten by a dog or hit by a car and didn’t like being yelled at. Pat tried to convince Shannon that the risks were known; Shannon tried to convince Pat that the rules kept them safe.
Should Shannon allow Pat to get hurt? Should Pat stay safe in the yard?
Can you see the point-of-view of a friend? Will you remain friends if you can’t?
Are you Shannon or Pat?
Copyright © 2017 Kevin A. Ranson. All Rights Reserved.
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It felt like a parable kind of day today.
It’s not me I’m worried about.
What’s the big deal? I’m a middle-aged white guy. Isn’t that the demographic that voted our president-elect into office last night? Party on, right? Let’s bring back those hands-on jobs lost to mechanization and superior technology. Let’s close all borders and stop policing the world because, hey, what could go wrong out there? Anyone who works with Americans should just come to us because we are the alpha and omega — our way or the highway.
Again, it’s not me I’m worried about.
There are people I know who are afraid for their lives this morning. Medical insurance that covers pre-existing conditions and access to medicine going away. The right to marry the person you love may be lost… or worse, denied basic services needed to sustain human life. Half of our population no longer permitted to decide for themselves if they should risk their own life to bring a child to term or allowed steps to prevent one. Hard-working folks and good people who may no longer be safe in our country because terrorism will be inexorably linked to one particular religion. People waiting on hold because the suicide hotlines are overloaded and keep dropping calls.
No, it’s not me I’m worried about.
I became ill the first week of June 2016, dismissing it as a minor bug — “con crud” as conventioneers say — and something I could get over with fluids, over-the-counter meds, and rest.
Except I didn’t. I was running a fever on and off, at one point hitting 102.5 F, so after battling for a week, I reluctantly went to the doctor that Thursday. After getting a cocktail of antibiotics injected into me, I assumed all would be well…until it wasn’t. I would find out later that I was far more sick and exhausted than I knew, and when the shot took effect, it did its job so well my forty-something body was no longer up to the task.
At some point later in the evening, my short-term memory failed and I’ve been told I started babbling. I don’t remember that night or the panic that set in when my family found me the next morning before calling an ambulance. The shot had started killing off viruses so quickly that I couldn’t flush them out fast enough. Systems started shutting down, and at 340 pounds, my family couldn’t move me to the car. The ambulance drivers didn’t give me much of a chance, but they didn’t waste any time, either.
I remember having some kind of dream about being in a the bottom of a boat, moving inside, as if I was being taken somewhere. There’s a high probability it was how I imagined the ambulance ride or maybe ICU; which one I couldn’t say. Fortunately, for being big and tall, I’m pretty resilient and managed to survive the following two days until I was functioning on my own again. The doctors were afraid something might have been permanently damaged, from my kidneys all the way to my brain.
Continue reading “A Near-Life Experience”
In October of 2015, CBS launched “Supergirl” for a 13-episode order. I even published an article about it. Maybe it was a bid by the network to lure in younger viewers or maybe an appeal to older ones, but one thing was certain: this Supergirl was going to be a force for hope, good, and all that stuff. In a television and movie landscape now dominated by dark and sometimes murdering superheroes, this one was going to remain incorruptible in spite of many temptations.
You know — the way Superman used to be.
Actor Christopher Reeve was quoted with saying, “Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.” It isn’t clear if he was saying that in-character or not, but it was probably both.
Happy so far, CBS bumped the show to a full-series order: a total of 20 episodes. The show hasn’t been perfect; from a front-loaded overstuffed pilot to a world where science seems to serve the weekly plot and physics be damned, the one consistency has been Melissa Benoist. The “Glee” actress has so completely embodied the character of Supergirl and brought so much of her A-game, you’d think she was going for an Oscar in a feature film if she didn’t look so honest doing it. Considering that two other actresses on the show — Helen Slater and Laura Vandervoort — have both played the character, it’s hard now to imagine anyone better for the role than Melissa Benoist (yeah, she’s that good).
Continue reading “Supergirl Revisited: Darkness and Light in Storytelling”