Mindful Monday - Update, Diversity in a WIP

So a while back, I wrote this post on how I don't feel like I have the right to write about another culture.

I'm constantly expanding the number of people I follow on Twitter, there are just so many with something to say that resonate with me! Or make me think! And I realize now how very cowardly that previous post was. In fact, I think I kind of knew there was something wrong with it, but sometimes we need distance to see such errors, and an honesty which honestly can be hard to come by.

So I don't know how to portray a PoC (person/people of color), what does that mean? That I have research to do and conversations to engage in. And if I ever get to a point where I can use beta readers or critique partners, I need to engage with some who identify with that character, so they can tell me what is offensive, what I got wrong, and--hopefully--something that maybe I got right. I can't let the fear of being utterly wrong stop me from trying, and learning in the process.

There are people on Twitter who offer themselves up to answer questions about their sexuality/disabilities/culture/everything, go find them if you have questions. Someone tweeted a link to Diversity Cross-Check, and while I haven't spent much time perusing it yet, it seems like a place where it may be possible to connect with others willing to answer questions.

No, I'm not going to take down my original post where I display, for the world, my ignorance. No, I'll leave it as a reminder to myself that there is always growth and learning to be done.

Let's try not to let our ignorance reinforce plaguing stereotypes. In today's time, our resources are unlimited, and so is our potential.

Until next time,
Julia

Don't forget to check out my latest adventure: byersediting.wordpress.com!

Feature Friday - Jamberry Nail Wraps!

Ok, if you follow me on Twitter you probably know by now of my newest fascination: Jamberry Nail Wraps. You heat them up, stick them on, and have beautiful nails forever! (Ok, so I've been too impatient to let them go longer than about 11 or so days...they're still going strong when I take them off.) Here are some pics of mine so far:

Current: KaBoom, in honor of July 4!

Digiscan

Swept Away

I didn't know how popular these are because I live under a rock, but I bet someone you know either is or has a consultant. Totally worth a try!

Mindful Monday - About a WIP & Race

Well, all of my works are "in progress," but one day, what if one is actually out there?

I pretend, sometimes, that I'm answering questions about my process and inspirations and what not. This is one of those things.

When I started this project, it was a completely different idea than what it has become. I had been doing a lot of mind-numbing alpha-male-romance reading, and when I started out thinking about this story, that's kind of what I had in mind. Boy did the characters have a different idea. As I thought about the whys and hows of the characters, I realized quickly that my story would (hopefully) not fall into that same category. *I would like to say I don't think there is anything wrong with that category, as I just admitted to reading it...*

The MC is a young woman who is also a single mom. When I first started, I thought her child might be mixed-race, so the MC has to deal with the strange looks she gets in the store and what not. And then I gave that some thought...

While the story is supposed to be about this young woman, there is a part of her past that leads her to where she is, and I realized I didn't want to further the stereotype that would leave a young woman alone with a mixed-race child. Because, you know, someone would point that out. I'm not afraid of criticism, but I'm not a fan of offending someone for being thoughtless, either.

I will also say up-front that I do not have any kind of experience which would allow me to enter into, or enter my work into, a conversation of culture that is not white or mostly-white. When it comes to values and beliefs, yes there are differences between cultures and even within the same cultures, no matter if they are in the same neighborhood or a world away. I've not lived enough outside of my own culture to pretend I have the right to write about another. So if in my (non-fantasy) writing my MCs are lacking in racial/cultural diversity, that does not come from an idea of better-ness, but out of respect and knowledge that there are things I just wouldn't get right, I just wouldn't be able to portray--regardless of how empathetic and understanding I might be--, because no matter how much research or observation I might make, I will always be an outsider looking in, imposing my ideas onto what I'm reading/seeing/hearing, even if I think I get it.

I'm not without my own conflict about the above paragraph, because doesn't that mean that I'm also in an ideal place to enter into that conversation? Or at least host it? That privileged place where I can have a conversation and create a safe place for others, who are qualified through their experience to talk about things I can not? But how does one do that?

So there are the two exactly conflicting things on my mind, and the bearing they've had so far on this particular project.

Until next time,
Julia

TBT - Poetry from last year.

I posted this to my twitter account (@byersj09) some time ago, but it only recently came to my attention that it is actually a bit hard to read on there, so I'm reposting it here for a first throw-back-Thursday post. I wrote it during my creative writing class last summer, and probably my favorite from that time. Here is a link to the picture that was used as my inspiration (per the assignment's directions): http://holeinthedonut.com/2013/02/23/photo-easternmost-point-spain-cap-de-creus-natural-park/
I hope you enjoy!

The Cape

Two wheels of soft rubber whisper on the asphalt,

the chain gently whirs on the gears like wind against wings

until the salt water engulfs first

the nose,
            then tongue,

 then vision.

I walked this path some months ago

as leaves turned into individual flames

and danced on their branches and floated in the wind.

Small, smooth stones that crunch underfoot

then give way to rocks that skitter, and clatter

and boulders that stand strong,

like bolts holding the earth together.

Birds caw and squawk, specters in the sky

hunting the next victim, their calls swept out to sea –

lyrical accompaniment to the ocean’s melody:

surf slapping the strong, stony shore.

The ocean breaking over rocks time and time again

mimics the tumbling thoughts,

the regrets, and the question

“What if?”

“What if I got to say goodbye?”

and when you try to escape them

they crash loudly, repeatedly,

relentless waves against your conscience.

Tufts of greenery cling to the beaten rocks,

the only brave pops of color in this gray-scaled world,

their flowers rare glimpses of the life that thrives here.

In the horizon the gray-cloud sky meets

with the gray-reflecting water

pulling on the gray-rock fingers of the Cape,

pulling them out to sea against their will.

Even the air is gray and thick

with a drizzle that is not quite rain

nor the lack of it.

The gray invades the body, the mind, the soul,

devouring emotions and thoughts

leaving you even more

numb and empty

than the salt-filled shell of a summer locust.

I see you standing there, locust-girl,

blown by the battering gray wind,

and I’ve brought the Sun with  me.