Disappointment

After a lot of thought and consideration, I've pulled the link to Neil Gaiman's blog from my reading list.

To say I'm disappointed in his behavior is an understatement. I'm not against kink. However, I do believe in safe, sane, and consensual protocols. There's some big questions on all three parts in his relationships with women.

To me, here's the bigger problem. As a former attorney, it's been drummed into my head that public servants not only can't do anything improper, but we need to avoid the APPEARANCE of impropriety as well.

Granted, Gaiman isn't a public servant. No non-government celebrity is.

However, there's one thing in this whole mess that bothers me--why did Gaiman abruptly leave New Zealand at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic?

If he and his wife had a simple fight, and with the amount of friends Gaiman has, why not make other arrangements in New Zealand rather than flying halfway around the world and possibly contract or spread a deadly disease? Why leave your child alone like that?

To me, this is a HUGE appearance of impropriety on his part. Worse, it was damn irresponsible given conditions around the world at that time.

It's bad enough all these women are telling the same tales about him. It also saddens me that his actions have affected a large number of people that had nothing to with any sexual behavior on his part.

The current adaptions of his writing are being cancelled thanks to the current controversy. Hundreds of people are employed to make a television series. Now, all those people will also be out of work because of Gaiman's stigma and lack of foresight.

Today, I received an e-mail notice from a Kickstarter I supported nearly two years ago--a graphic novel of Good Omens. There were a ton of people working on this project, including Terry Pratchett's estate. Now, some backers (I don't know how many) have asked for there orders to be cancelled and want refunds.

In the notice, the Pratchett Estate said Gaiman would not be getting any funds from this Kickstarter. I hope Colleen Doran, the artist for the project is paid in full because her artwork I've seen so far is absolutely stunning.

None the less, I'm sad to say the Good Omens graphic novel will be the last Gaiman-related product I will purchase. I've loved his work since I picked up my first copy of the Sandman comic in 1988. There's been a lot of talk among fans regarding equating the artist with the art. Gaiman is a great writer, but when someone fucks up, they need to make things right with those they fucked over. Reading his so-called apology on his blog makes it sound like he's only sorry he got caught.

I don't think I'm holding Gaiman to some unachievable standard. We're all human. We all fuck up. But he does need to fix his problems--to his family and to those he wronged.

And Then There Was More!

Netflix and Neil Gaiman dropped bonus episodes of Sandman. Fair warning: this is Calliope's story. I'll see y'all on the other side of the weekend.

Perfection

If you haven't seen Netflix's Sandman series, I strongly recommend it. It's been a while since something I anticipated delivered on every level.

The series stayed true to the feeling and themes of the comic book series. Some alterations were necessary because of the new media. Some alterations were because Neil Gaiman's grown as a storyteller. Others were because--let's face it, the show would have looked ridiculous with thought balloons.

Some things simply needed to be updated. People forget the first issue of Vertigo's Sandman was published thirty-five years ago.

Other were changed because they fit the narrative.

The performances were sublime all around. I literally cannot pick a single standout because they were all done so excellently.

This promotional postcard of Death is framed and hung in my old office in Houston. I'm looking forward to the day I  unbox it, and It hangs in my office once again.

Until that day, may you all have sweet dreams...

No News Today

I'm watching Sandman on Netflix today. I suggest you all do the same. Or go read the collected Sandman trade paperbacks.

All hail the Dream King!

I Can't Wait for Next Week!

This is the series I've been waiting for, and the casting of Death is perfect!

Coronavirus Pandemic Day 145 - Death

"You get what anybody gets. You get a lifetime." - Death, Neil Gaiman

Over 157,000 dead in the U.S. alone. The number staggers the mind. And we're back up to over 1,000 dying per day.

Our county followed the Ohio governor's guidelines and shut down on March 16th. We stayed at a stable 39 cases and 1 death for six weeks.

But the re-opening on May 1 triggered more cases. With the 4th of July parties, cases exploded. Hancock County is at 320 cases and 2 deaths.

What's even more terrible is at a time when Americans really need to be working together to stop the spread of this horrible disease, we are actively working to infect each other. At a time when we need solid national leadership, we have federal officials at each others throats.

Believe me, I get how much staying at home sucks. With my health issues, I've been trapped at home far longer than a lot of you. And I regularly talk with friends, who are as trapped at home as I am. Yes, it's awful. Yes, it's boring. But if my 88-year-old father-in-law can handle not leaving his apartment for five freaking months, then so can I.

And you can, too.

But if you do have to go out, wash your hands and use your masks. Your family's and friends' lives may depend on it.

Wild, WIcked & Wacky Rewind from 2009

Since I'm trying to finish A Touch of Mother, and then I'll be in Las Vegas for two weeks, I'm reposting some of my favorite columns over the last eleven years. This one is from November 7, 2009, during NaNo.

=====================================
Word Count as of this Post - 8,422 words

I had a very strange dream last night--strange in its relative normalcy. Ususally, I'm Capt. Piccard guiding the Enterprise-D, or I'm saving the remains of humanity after an apocalypse, or I'm being chased by vampires down the dark Houston downtown streets.

In this dream though, I was at a writer's conference where Neil Gaiman was the keynote speaker. After the speech, Mr. Gaiman complained about he was oh-so-tired of restaurant food, and I invited him to my house for a home-cooked meal.

The house we arrived at wasn't my current home, but the house where my husband and I lived back in Ohio when we were first married. Mr. Gaiman then said he really wished he didn't have to go back to the hotel at all. I apologized for not having a guest room, but he was welcome to the living room couch. He graciously accepted and hugged me because he REALLY did not want to spend another night in a horrid hotel room.

Unfortunately, that's also when DH arrived home from work. Mr. Gaiman quickly steps away and defends my honor, to which DH replies that I only like men 6'5" or taller anyway. Mr. Gaiman, slightly offended, says that if it weren't for the terrible humidity, his hair would poof properly, therefore he would be taller than DH. With a quizzical look, DH asks why Mr. Gaiman doesn't find poofy hair annoying. The two men quickly launch into a discussion of the inherent quirks and pitfalls of poofy hair.

When my son arrives home from a visit to the neighbor boy's house, he's not terribly enthused about another of my writer friends attending dinner until I explained that this is the gentleman that wrote 'The Graveyard Book.' Mr. Gaiman's level of coolness rises in his estimation. He then proceeds to sell Mr. Gaiman on the excellent quality of my pumpkin pie. Mr. Gaiman replies, 'Your mum's pumpkin pie sounds lovely.' So now I have to rush to Kroger's since I have no pumpkin in the cupboard.

We have lovely meal of roast beef, homemade noodles, and green beans during which Mr. Gaiman and I discuss the respective merits and problems of our current wips. Once GK's in bed--after Mr. Gaiman has shown the proper respect for his Star Wars Legos collection--Mr. Gaiman and DH launch into a technological discussion of the problems with Vista and why you need ant traps in the house to prevent the them from nesting in your brand new modem.

A little bored with the men's technobabble, I resume working on my NaNo wip.

Is this boring? Well, maybe. But the dream version of Mr. Gaiman gave me some wonderful tips on my current project. For that, I thank him profusely.

Now, as long as Neil's next journal post doesn't begin with "I had the oddest dream where a fan invited me to her home after my speech at a writer's conference and she made the most marvelous pumpkin pie. . ."

A Little Wednesday Fun

I'm behind on editing Hero De Novo, so I'll leave this little delight for you from the wonderful Neil Gaiman. He reads Fox in Socks for refugee relief.

Finish Things

I've heard this advice from a lot of long-term pro writers I respect. Dean Wesley Smith repeats this piece quite frequently under Heinlein's Rules of Writing. But I don't think it really sunk into my brain until Neil Gaiman posted a picture of this phrase written in Sharpie on his hand. And I was reminded of the term this week on Will Wheaton's blog.

This summer, I've been sending quite a bit of work to my formatter and my cover artist. My formatter commented that she'd been backed up the last couple of months and this wasn't her normal busy period. I replied that I couldn't vouch for any other writers, but I was simple trying to finish all the projects I started three years ago.

Yep, in ten days, it will be three years since the insane odyssey of trying to sell our house in Texas and moving to Ohio began. Things went wrong. Then more things went wrong. And then a few more.

Through it all, I kept writing. I just didn't have the focus to edit, much less publish, what I was writing. On top of that, I was so stressed out I'd get stuck on one piece, so I'd set it aside and start something else. That happened a lot.

So I've got a ton of idea pieces sitting on my hard drive in various states of completion. I'm trying to finish them as fast as I can. And I'm keeping other people busy and paid, too.

And the spice, aka words and money, must flow!

Seriously though, the older more experienced pro writers are right. The hard part is finishing what you start. I had life shit hold me back. Don't let your own fear hold you back.

Time: The Epidemic

There's been a number of posts by writers lately about the lack of time. These posts come from both sides of the fence.

Trad published writers are surprised that their publishers expect to do stuff that doesn't involve writing, like social media. Or they have to have five different discussions with three different editors over something they stetted on the proofs on one book. (FYI for those who haven't been through the process--"Stet" means keep something the way the writer wrote it, not the way the copyeditor wants to change it.)

Indie published writers whine about how much time dealing with marketing and subcontractors takes out of their day. They don't have as much writing time because of all the extraneous minutia of running a business.

Here's my two cents:

1) Regardless of how a writer has their books published, they are a small business person.

That's right, even the trad folks ARE NOT EMPLOYEES. (Actually, they are treated worse than employees, but that's a post for another day.) That means a writer is going to put in the 60-80 hours a week, more than a normal self-employed person in any other field does. If the writer puts in less, that's their choice, but the really successful folks, yeah, that's what they do.

If you don't believe me, go read Dean Wesley Smith's blog (there's a link under "Blogs I Follow" on your right). The man wears me out just reading his daily schedule. And yes, he talks about lack of time to finish a current wip, but he's also about to open a new store, which in digging into his days lately.

2) Writers can have unrealistic expectations about writing as a full-time job.

Some folks think writing means scribbling or typing for a couple of hours a day, then hobnobbing with all the important people. Dinner parties. Book signings with mobs of fans.

As much as I love Nathan Fillion, Castle gives a very unrealistic portrayal of a working writer's life. If the writer can't write, he, mom, and daughter don't eat. And he sure as hell can't afford an apartment in New York City the size of the one on the show. And what about healthcare? (I say this as a parent who needs to cough up the dough this summer to have the rest of GK's wisdom teeth removed before they ruin the lovely job the orthodontists have done.)

Even the great Neil Gaiman has to change dirty diapers in between writing. So it's not all glamor and fun.

3) Writers have to learn how to fit writing in between everything else.

While it would be wonderful to have a block of hours to just write, that's not realistic for most of us. In fact, I'm a little jealous of my friends who don't have kids. Or parents. Or health problems. Lately, I've been getting more writing done in the forty-five minutes between my son going to bed and my husband going to bed.

Or heading to the school pick-up line ten minutes early, just for the quiet in the car, and tap out a few lines on my phone.

I know a lot of folks preach about making writing a priority in your day, but sometimes, that just isn't realistic.


What it all comes down to is making expectations realistic. There's also the caveat of being careful what you wish for. I know of a couple of folks who got the proverbial brass ring in this merry-go-round we call the writing industry, but it didn't make all their problems magically go away. It only added new layers of loss and problems.

So think about how you, and those around you, would really handle your success. That's just as important as how y'all handle failure.

Change Is Inevitable

One of my great-grandfathers was very fond of the saying, "The only constant in the universe is change."*

Great-grandpa Ed was born in 1888 when farming was still the main occupation for the United States. Cars, electricity and telephones were toys for rich city folk. He was a teenager when Wilbur and Orville tested their airplane at Kitty Hawk. His eldest child was born the same year Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated.

All four of his sons dabbled in farming, though it was more a hobby than a living. Newspapers, then radio, then television in turn were the primary method of disseminating information. He watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. PCs were in their infancy when he passed away.

Why am I telling you all of this? Great-grandpa never complained when a new method came along. Pick-up trucks were a hell of a lot easier to deal with than a stubborn mule team. Tractor-driven rakers and balers? The best things ever invented. And how amazing is it we can get fresh fruit from South America!

Yesterday smacked me just how much people become so settled in their lives they resent change.

The first kicker was David Letterman's announcement that he was retiring next year. The hue and cry went up. "Late night will never be the same!"

First of all, late night talk shows are nearly as old as television itself, which a fairly young medium compared to dirty hieroglyphics in Egypt. They all follow the same general format, even my beloved Craig Ferguson (though he generally has read the book an author plugs on his show). Someone will step into David's place, just as Jimmy replaced Jay who replaced Johnny who replaced Jack.

The second kicker was a quote on Neil Gaiman's blog: "So many books are being published. Why don't people just stop making new books and read the ones that are already out there?"

Now I could take that quote TOTALLY out of context like someone did with Tracy Hickman, which would be an evil and terrible thing to do to a writer I admire. Neil was talking about the feeling of being overwhelmed in a big box store compared to a small bookshop he recently discovered. This made me think that he won't be having this feeling for too much longer if certain big chains don't get their act together and innovate. They cannot continue to ignore the changes in the publishing and book retailing industry.

The third kicker was the report of an interview of fantasy writer Tracy Hickman at AnomalyCon this year. Both The Passive Voice, J.A. "Joe" Konrath, and their respective followers had a lot to say about Tracy's statements in that interview, as did the commenters on the original post. And a lot of what was said was terribly inaccurate.

Tracy's been in the writing business for over thirty years. Hell, I read his Dragonlance books in high school. He responded to Joe's well-meaning advice and offer to help with a comment at Joe's blog and a post on his own blog. Tracy is adapting to the new publishing paradigm just fine, thank you, contrary to the dramatic reports of his great sorrow over his career.

On the other hand, Great-Grandpa Ed died in 1981 and never saw the downfall of the American family farm. I wonder how he would have handled it. Would he have accepted it and found an alternative occupation? Or would he have railed against fate and succumbed to despair? Given his disposition, I'd say he'd jump into the new world with both feet.

It's ironic to me that Dave, Neil and Tracy got their starts in their respective fields in the same decade Great-Grandpa passed away. My grandchildren will probably work in fields I cannot even envision.

Things change. The only choices we really have are adapt or die.


*It was decades before I realized how unusual it was to know five of my great-grandparents.

Special Monday Edition of Videos I've Been Watching

Neil Gaiman rocks! I can't wait until he becomes a grandfather.

Videos I've Been Watching Lately

The start of the haggis adventure!

Videos I've Been Watching Lately

Two of the greatest entertainers ever with smuggled vegetarian haggis!

Copyright - Playing in Someone Else's Sandbox

There was an interesting discussion over at The Passive Voice regarding Amazon's new Kindle Worlds Store.

For  those who may not know, Amazon has licenses with several copyright holders where freelance writers can submit stories based on the copyright holders' properties. If those stories are accepted, the freelance writer gets 35% of the net revenue for stories 10,000 words or higher. In return, the freelance writer gives up all other rights to the story for the life of the copyright.

Now, the inital stories have been done by some excellent writers, including one of my mentors, Colleen Thompson. Colleen is an award-winning romantic thriller author. She wrote The Jersey Devil Made Me Do It for the Pretty Little Liars series.

The established writers in the inital program, like Colleen, J.R. Rain and Scott Nicholson, were approached by Amazon for the project. Make no mistake that their contract terms are not the same as Joe Shmoe off the street.

The official Terms and Conditions haven't been posted yet, but here's Amazon's rough breakdown.

One thing you have to remember--if you participate in Kindle Worlds, you are essential playing in someone else's sandbox. What this means is that Alloy Entertainment still owns the copyright to its characters. (No, Sara Shepard, the author of the Pretty Little Liars books does not. Alloy Entertainment hired her on a work-for-hire basis.) Basically, Alloy is having you all try out for them.

Why do I suspect is that Alloy Entertainment approached Amazon about this "opportunity"? They recently fired L.J. Smith of Vampire Diaries fame because the execs want Elena to end up with Stefan and L.J. wanted Elena to have her HEA with Damon. So what better way to find docile, compliant little writers, willing to accept non-negotiable terms than through a KDP clone, who will think this is a great idea?

Despite my snark, is this really a bad idea? Maybe, maybe not. A lot of it depends on what your career goals are. On one hand, writing for one of these series could expose you to a whole new audience. (There's a reason why Amazon would approach a top romantic thriller author to write a YA mystery story.) On the other, that's a lot of writing time to give up, especially if you write a novel for one of these "worlds."

Why do I call this whole thing playing in someone else's sandbox? It reminds me of little kids.

Billy invites Jimmy over to play trucks in Billy's sandbox. Jimmy builds a sandcastle with Billy's sand and truck. Can he take it home? No, the sand and the truck are Billy's. Billy gave Jimmy permission to play with his toys for the duration of the visit.

Translation: The holder of the copyright has control over the intellectual property. He may permit you to use his characters, settings or situations (i.e. his "world"), but he OWNS it. If I wanted to write a short story set in Harry Dresden's Chicago using former police officer Karrin Murphy, then I need Jim Butcher's permission. How each of us is compensated for this short story needs to be negotiated between Jim and me. Well, actually, "our people" will do it.

In the case of Kindle Worlds, there's no wiggle room to negotiate. You take or leave it.

Some folks at The Passive Voice are very upset by Amazon's (aka Alloy Entertainment's) stance. But this isn't the iron chokehold traditional publishers had on writers. We can make a very good living without relying on hand-outs from Alloy.

Clara invites Jennifer over to play dolls in her new doll house. Jennifer brings her own doll with her. Clara does not own Jennifer's doll just because it was in the dollhouse. Jennifer does not own the doll house just because her doll was in it. Clara gave permission to Jennifer to place her doll inside the house for the duration of the playtime.

Translation: If you create a new character for the copyright holder's setting, then you own that character, but not much else. A perfect real-life example is the legal battle between Neil Gaiman and Todd MacFarlane. Todd invited Neil to write a issue or two of Todd's Spawn. Neil invented Angela, Spawn's heavenly counterpart. Afterwards, Todd used Angela whenever he felt like it and didn't pay Neil a dime. In this case, Neil DID NOT give up his rights to Angela when he signed the contract with Todd.

So is this really a bad contract with Kindle World? That's something you have to decide for yourself.

When you consider you're writing for someone else's copyrighted world, not really. Many people are referring to this as monetizing fanfic. After seeing what happened with Fifty Shades of Grey, they are probably correct. (For those not in the know, FoSG started life as a Twilight-fanfic novel called Master of the Universe.) To me, it's really work-for-hire on spec. (And if you don't know what that term means, you REALLY should not be submitting to Kindle Worlds!)

If you feel it's unfair, then walk away. No one's going to give you crap if you do.

But what you have to look at is the entire compensation package, not just the money.Could the fan spill-over to your own work be worth giving up your claims to that little story? If you think you can use it to your advantage, then check out the program.

But most of all, know your copyright! Kris Rusch constantly pushes The Copyright Handbook, and I highly suggest you buy yourself a copy. Know what you can and cannot do with your intellectual property as well as someone else's.

And for the love of Murphy, don't EVER sign a contract you do not thoroughly understand. L.J. Smith learned this lesson the hard way.

The Little Girl No One Cried For - C.C. Hunter

Last year's All Hallows Read guest posts were so popular, I decided to make it an annual event. So I asked some of my favorite people, who happen to write some of my favorite books, to tell their own personal scary stories.

As an added bonus, the always frightening Neil Gaiman is giving away a free story at Audible, but hurry! The offer only good until October 31st!

Back here at WW&W, first up is Creepy C.C. Hunter (aka my buddy Christie Craig)!

I was thirteen and I woke up that morning with sunshine spilling through my window. I stretched my hands over my head and it hit me—the memory of a dream I’d just had came rushing back. There had been no sunshine in the dream.

It was spooky, but more strange and sad. Like an old movie, I could still see it playing in my mind. But unlike a movie, my memory came with all five senses. The smell of wet earth and the scent of a storm brewing somewhere close by. I could feel the wind hit my face, blowing my blonde hair across my eyes. Tombstones, aged and cracked, littered the ground around me. All was silent—deadly silent.

A small group of people stood quietly by a gravesite. All wearing black. Even the sky held a dismal shade of sadness. There seemed to be no color in the image—no joy, all drab and gray. I stared at the faces of those grieving people. Did I know them? Yes, but . . . vaguely. And from where?

Immediately, my gaze shifted to the casket. The tiny polished box carried the only color in the scene. A bright pink ribbon rested on top. My gaze shot back to the people again. They weren’t crying. For some reason that seemed odd. They needed to cry. Cry for the child who obviously lay tucked inside that casket. The child who would never run and play and who would never know life.

I studied the faces of the people again, trying to remember where I’d seen them. How could I know them when they looked so out of place? Like people from old pictures. People from another time, another life.

And then came the realization. The woman dressed in a thick black wool coat, hugging herself against the cold and staring at the casket with empty emotion, was my grandmother, but younger. A lot younger. The woman today was old, in her late sixties. But yes, I remembered seeing her younger face in family photo albums.

Then, I recognized the other people. My mom and dad when they were young. My grandfather and one of my uncles. My gaze shifted from one person to the next.

Then it went to the casket.

Who had died? Part of the answer came with the next cold whisk of wind: A baby. A baby girl.

I wanted to tell someone how sorry I was. Emotion built in my chest. A crazy thought hit. Someone needed to cry for the child. I stood back from the crowd, not really present, but somehow still there. I felt the odd sadness. But why weren’t they crying?

Then my grandmother, my mom, dad and uncle were gone. As if they’d vanished into the air. I saw the casket being lowered into the gaping chasm. Abruptly the dream changed and I saw the gravestone. It simply read, Our baby girl: Christie.

Christie? CHRISTIE? That was my name. How could the baby have my name? That’s when I’d woken up. My heart still thumped against my breastbone at the memory, and I had tears in my eyes. Not wanting to be alone, I went and found my mom cooking breakfast.

I told her about the dream, about the casket with the pink ribbon and seeing my name on the gravestone.

I saw shock hit my mom’s face. “What is it?” I asked, but was almost scared for her to answer.

“This is weird.”

“What?”

“Your grandmother got pregnant a few months after your dad and I were married. It was a girl. She only lived a few weeks. You were named after her.”

The spookiness tiptoed up my spine as chills skittered up my neck. I looked at my mom and asked, “Why didn’t anyone cry?” Suddenly, I burst into tears.

My mom’s faced paled even more. “Your grandma told everyone no tears. She said she couldn’t handle the tears. We weren’t allowed to cry.”

I dropped down into a kitchen chair and asked the question burning inside me. “How could I have dreamed this?”

“I’m sure you heard the story,” Mom said.

“When? When could I have heard the story? I swear I never knew about her before now.”

“I don’t know, but you had to have heard it. How else would you have known this?”

How else?

To this day I think about that dream. I think about the little girl, my namesake. Did I really hear someone tell that story and my mind simply played it back as a dream? Or did the spirit of Christie somehow visit me? Did she need me to know about her? Did she need someone to cry for her?

I guess you see why my Shadow Falls series involves ghosts. There’s a part of me that believes in them. What about you? Do you believe in ghosts?

C.C.'s latest book, Whispers at Moonrise, is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other fine retailers.

When an Artist Is Used

I'm sure by now everyone's heard about the anti-Islamic video posted on YouTube. I'm sure everyone's heard about the murder of the American ambassdor to Libya, Chris Stevens, and three other Americans. I'm sure you've heard about the violent protests all over the world. I'm sure you've heard about the Americans who think their right to freedom of speech outweighs any other person's rights.

I'm not going to link to the actual video because frankly I think it's obscene. Why? Because the producer of the video, Sam Bassil, decided to trick members of the cast and crew into making what they thought was an action-adventure indie film set in ancient Egypt.

As someone who earns money as an artist, I'm disgusted that someone felt the need to manipulate folks just trying to earn a living doing what they love.

There are several other problems that stick in my craw. One of which is new Arabic dialogue being dubbed. Dialogue that has nothing to do with the translation of the lines actually spoken by the actors. Then there's the intentions of the producer. Why not be honest with the actors about the real storyline the producer wanted to present? There's plenty of folks who share Bassil's views and would have jumped on the chance to make this video. Why trick people into making a film he had no intention of releasing as it was presented to the cast and crew? Then there is the producer who's mysteriously disappeared. Frankly, no one's even sure if Sam Bassil is this guy's real name.

UPDATE: The suspected producer of the anti-Islamic video Nakoula Besseley Nakoula was taken into custody by the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Office on Saturday morning. Nakoula was convicted of bank fraud in 2009. If he uploaded the video, he may have violated the terms of his parole, which prohibits the use of computers and the Internet without his parole officer's approval.

Now the cast and crew are having to deal with the fall-out with this chopped up bit of political propaganda. What I don't think the idiots who constructed this piece of crap counted on was any of the actors having connections.

One of the supporting actresses, Anna Gurji, is friends with writer/actor Neil Gaiman. Neil has posted a letter from Anna about the situation with Anna's permission. Read it for yourself. What would you do if you were in Anna's place?

But most of all, I encourage you to think for youself. And always, ALWAYS do a background check on anybody who hires you.

NOTE: I'm not getting into a debate over religion or the First Amendment. This is the first, and hopefully only, time I moderate this blog. Any comments not on the actual issue at hand will be deleted.

Make Good Art

Neil Gaiman addresses the graduating class of 2012 at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia, but his words apply to all of us.

This Is How You Act When You Win A Writing Award

Of course, tweeting "I won the fucking Newberry!" works too.

All Hallows Read

Here's a positive Public Service Announcement from the ever-charming Neil Gaiman:



Now go buy or borrow scary books for your loved ones!