Showing posts with label ignorance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ignorance. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Silence Not Allowed

There are rules, gosh darn it!

*pounds fists onto the table, breathing picking up steam*

Hard and fast rules for writing an author’s blog. I’ve read them, abided by them (somewhat) or at least followed their lead in most things author bloggish.

Rule #3 or 4 reads in part (sort of), “Your professional author’s blog is not a soapbox. Politics should be kept well clear of all your posts. Your potential reading public is everyone. Alienating one group by needlessly spouting off your own opinion is irresponsible and stupid.”

Well, that was clearly written before Trump.

I’m sorry. I’ve tried really, really hard not to soapbox here… Yeah, yeah, I know. Failures have occurred. In fact, one fat one is about to occur right now.

Trump’s latest call to ban all Muslim immigrants to the U.S. is so idiotic that it way, way negates the idiocy of me stating my opinion of it here.

Not only is his plan the aforementioned idiotic, it is heartless, bigoted to the upmost and laughingly irrational.

It is shameful that the frontrunner of one of the two major American political parties would proclaim such a thing to a roaring crowd. Trump has his right to his opinion and he can spout his nonsense all he wants, but when people cheer and applaud such hatred it is really rather frightening.
*breathing slows as, surprisingly, regret does not settle in*

There. I’m done. And if this little rule breaking has cursed my career, so be it. Hatred is stupidity and must be confronted… even if it’s only from this wee-little soapbox.

Until tomorrow…


Chloe

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Selective Ignorance -or- Crowbars and Tampons

Selective ignorance.

I’m terrible at it.

Once I learn something, it’s ridiculously hard and rather painful to ever get it out of my head again. (Think a crowbar trying to budge a three bedroom Brownstone.)

Yeah, a useful trait in academia. Not so nifty in historical romance.

As I continue to wrestle my way through writing the Six Brothers project (100k historical mainstreamer, if you recall), I’m finding myself having to shove a lot of facts into the “Forget you ever knew that” closet.

All romance authors participate in some level of selective ignorance (i.e. bathroom breaks post sex, post-coital sheet messes, etc.). However, in historical romance there are literally tomes of stuff you’ve either just got to leave out or lie your butt off about.

Fine and dandy, I suppose, for a regular minded soul. Not so peachy for a perfectionist riding an OCD high.

So if I turn up missing one day, check the “Forget you ever knew that” closet. I’ll be hiding out there with the heroine’s tampons.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe