JanerBlog

And speaking of steampunkery...

I didn't get to attend this year's World Fantasy Convention, but apparently there was a panel entitled "Why Steampunk Now?"

Since then, there've been some really interesting posts based on the topic. I also ran across these two posts on the Aqueduct blog, and they're really good reading as well.

As I said in a recent post, I enjoy steampunk primarily for the DIY ethics (and the clothes are pretty cool), but giving the genre and its motives a good examination is not only necessary but overdue.

Lots to think about.

Well, Dang.

Guess I better get my rear in gear.

Geneology

I found this little bit of trivia last night while doing more research. If this is the right record -- which it sure looks like it is -- it makes the story even sadder than it was. It means that Schlumberger lost two sisters and a brother after he left for America -- and probably never even knew they died. He and Maelzel were moving around so much it was probably impossible to get mail.

Link post

Here's a really good essay on the subtleties of racism and colorism, by Malcom "Tipping Point" Gladwell. I came across it only a couple of days ago, and was surprised to see it was written in 1996.

LJ user Brown_Betty has written a really excellent post tangentally related to the ongoing discussion surrounding Patricia Wrede's Thirteenth Child. Her essay clearly articulates thoughts I've been struggling -- and failing -- to frame in regards to my own responsibilities to Clockwork Game. It also lets me know that other people besides me are uncomfortable with the old artist's trope that our primary accountability and duty is to our art, and not to our fellow human beings -- or to history, for that matter.

Cheryl Lynn at Digital Femme wrote an incredibly thoughtful, important post about the X-men character Storm, one that made me examine her in an entirely new light.

Yet another one out of the park by Jay Smooth, this time about Asher Roth. God damn, Jay Smooth is awesome. Seriously, go watch this.

Also, I keep forgetting to post this article about ethnicity in childrens' literature by Mitali Perkins, in the School Library Journal, which was sent to me a couple of weeks ago by Kat Kan. Thanks, Kat!

On the term "Of Color"

I did some ego-surfing the other day, and in the process, saw some critique of my use of the terms "Persons of Color" and "Readers of Color" -- someone even said they found the terms "despicable".

So I thought I should probably post about why I started using these terms; they were new to me as well, as of a couple of months ago, but they were the accepted terminology used by the majority of writers during the Cultural Appropriation Debate that then spiraled into RaceFail 09, so I used the terms I was presented with.

Here's a good explanation, from the The American Heritage® Book of English Usage:

Dissatisfaction with the implications of nonwhite as a racial label has contributed to the revival of the phrase person of color or similar terms, such as woman of color, based on the same construction. In effect, person of color stands nonwhite on its head, substituting a positive for a negative. Furthermore, the almost exclusive association in American English of colored with black—that is, with Americans of African descent—does not carry over to terms formed with “of color.” Indeed, the somewhat artificial sound of person of color serves to emphasize that something other than colored person is probably intended, so that when Jesse Jackson proclaims that “These are profound tendencies which strike at the middle class as well as the poor, at whites as well as people of color,” he is encouraging his audience to think more inclusively than if he had juxtaposed white with black. In this light, the term person of color and its related forms are welcome additions to the vocabulary of race and ethnicity.

There's plenty of discussion in regards to this, so I'm keeping my ears open, and trying to be more aware of preferred terminology going forward, as well.

Certainly observant, isn't he?

So you may have noticed that there's another page up this week.

In light of the overwhelming response from my readers, I've decided to keep the Clockwork Game archives online and run the remainder of the first chapter of the book. As things go along, I'll add links and additional information to the footnotes and bibliography to help make up for what I consider gaps in my storytelling. After that -- I'm still not sure, but after some very positive reviews from people whose opinions I trust, and a lot more heavy thinking, I'm reconsidering my stance on permanently ending the book. Let's call it a hiatus for now; the end of the first chapter's a good stopping point. In any event, I need to pull back and do a lot more reading and researching, then re-evaluate the first half of the book to see if it's something I can fix to better match the much darker tone of the second half.

It's not that I don't want to discuss the ugly parts of history, or cover them over. Just the opposite, in fact: the problem I have with the script is that I'm don't show enough of the ugliness of the time. I've unintentionally left issues unaddressed -- important issues -- like the fact that Kempelen was in charge of resettling areas of the Banat taken back from the Ottomans, that 18th century Europeans appropriated Turkish culture for both its stylishness and mysteriousness, and that the Austrian Empire was still at war with the Ottoman Empire, all of which undoubtedly contributed to Kempelen's decision to dress the automaton as he did. Painting it as "just an automaton" -- not presenting enough information about the cultural baggage surrounding its design in favor of a light story focusing only on man versus machine -- now seems disingenuous to me. That's the "framing within historical context" I've been talking about. I'm not sure if I can get enough of that information into the first half of the book as it stands now, at least not without redrawing huge chunks of it. I'm also not well-versed on these topics yet -- not enough to make changes to the script until I've had the chance to better inform myself and become more confident in my understanding of the political and social pressures at play -- and to get to that point, I've got to put the book on hold.

I also want to sincerely thank everyone who took the time and effort to comment or send email, with both positive and negative feedback. I had no idea that Clockwork Game had so many passionate, caring, intelligent readers -- it's meant so much to hear all your responses. Creating a webcomic is a high-wire act, and it's humbling to discover there are so many people holding the net below me.

UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE.

I love this page, because it is the 18th-century equivalent of Someone Is Wrong On The Internet. I spent about two solid days making sure I got that printing press depicted accurately. Thanks to David MacMillan for the image refs.

*********

In other news, I have decided to end Clockwork Game.

After a solid month of deliberation, I've decided that my original intent doesn't actually match the story I've created. The problems I'm seeing are not fixable with a few changes to dialogue or action; it's a deeper, more fundamental issue with the overall tone of the story. I've been too focused on the nerdy parts of the story I enjoy, and in doing so, I've failed to take some very critical aspects of the story into proper consideration.

I'm not ending the book because of anything anyone's said to me, or because of a need I feel to "keep everyone happy". "You can't keep everyone happy" is a sentiment best reserved for minor issues like the difference between using algebraic instead of descriptive chess notation, not major considerations like accurately framing racial stereotypes within a historical context.

In the last month, I have read dozens of devastatingly honest posts from Readers of Color who've been hurt by White authors who didn't take the full implications of their stories into account, posts so eloquent and brave that I cannot help but be moved by them to examine my own work and ensure that it's worthy of these same readers, authors in their own right who've risked so much to put their opinions out in public.

My passion for comics cuts two ways -- I fiercely love the comics I make, but I'm also unwilling to publish and sell a work that I'm not completely willing to stand behind. While I am disappointed that I won't be completing the project, in the long run, I think I'll be much more comfortable with this decision. I can only hope that my readers will agree.

My last remaining concerns regard the end of the first chapter, and the archives. I have another fifteen or so pages left to run, and I still haven't decided whether or not I'll be releasing them, or keeping them online as an archive. On one hand, if I'm not willing to publish the work, I don't really have a reason to keep it online. On the other, if I complete the first half of the story, properly footnote it, and add the texts that properly discuss the automaton's Orientalism, it could be a good resource to keep up for reference, especially given the dearth of online information on the topic. I'll probably give myself another week or so to make a final decision.

I realize that every work is flawed, and that as creators, we learn as we go. I want this to be a learning experience -- I just don't want this learning to come at someone else's expense.

(comments on this entry are unfortunately closed due to overwhelming spam.)

One too many Cobenzls.

I was doublechecking some facts tonight about the end of Kempelen's life, and son of a gun, if I didn't pick the wrong Count Cobenzl for the opening scene. Even if I had got the right Cobenzl, I apparently completely overlooked his dates of birth before I sat down to draw -- Ludwig Graf von Cobenzl, the one I picked originally, would've been seventeen when he played the automaton, not fiftysomething as I drew him. The correct Cobenzl, Philipp Graf von Cobenzl, would've been twenty-nine, which is better: that means I can just subtract some wrinkles "in post" and I should be fine. But still. This error would've slipped through the cracks if I hadn't suddenly added an extra scene to the tail-end of Kempelen's life, wherein Cobenzl makes a surprise re-appearance.

The most important question here is, of course: why the hell do I care about stupid minutia like this?!

Seriously, I have the most nerdiest life ever.

Fail Better: A self-examination of White Privilege in a current work

Over the last couple of years, thanks in large part to the writings of the incredible Pam Noles and other friends of mine, I started realizing that I have some problems with racism. Not my own railing against institutional racism, but being racist myself, however unwittingly. It turns out that just because I don't use racial epithets at the dinner table, I'm not incapable of repeating or internalizing racist ideas, or absolved of my responsibility for constant self-examination, what a shocker. It also turned out that I had some pretty deep misconceptions about the difference between race and class that I'd been harboring all these years.

In the time since then, I've made it a point to read, and listen, and try my best to absorb more diversity in my daily life. I thought I was gaining self-awareness pretty well, slowly moving from being a Clueless White Person towards being a Marginally-Less Clueless White Person.

And then along came this new round of discussion on Cultural Appropriation. It has really deeply hit home, showing me the real depths of my ignorance and lack of understanding, and how much further I really have to go. If I am really interested in the self-growth and anti-racism that I blog about, then it's time for a good hard look at the script of the webcomic that I'm currently writing.

Oh, come on, white writer. It's not all about you. Well, no, it isn't, and it shouldn't be, but this is my blog, so I guess it can be all about me for just one post, since I'm not derailing anybody else's discussion, and also because I want to put my own experiences up as an object lesson, for me if no one else. And to thank Deepa D. and Avalon's Willow, and let them know that their words -- written at great cost to their own spare time and sanity -- are sparking more than just discussion. And also to open my current mindset up to interpretation from commenters, because if I'm suddenly seeing blind spots as big as the ones I've noticed in the last day or so, there are bound to be others.

Okay, so as many of you know, I'm currently writing a graphic novel about the world's first chess-playing automaton, commonly known as "The Turk". I have a completed script, which is essentially a big fat outline that is still fairly open to editing, and I write and draw one page a week. I've been at it for a year, and at my current rate of progress, it'll take about another two years to finish.

I was drawn to this story by all the nerdy aspects of it: all the historical intersections with famous figures, the evolution of modern (Western) society's relationship with machinery and machine intelligence, the uncanny valley, the dramatic changes in the relationship of the automaton to its various owners: the tortured artist, the scurrilous showman, the plucky secondary heroine, the hidden "hunchbacked" chess-master, the Civil War surgeon, the modern-day illusion-builder. So much delicious plot to work with, such beautifully-drawn characters, all laid out for me by history. I realized early on that the automaton's "persona" would be an issue, and I tried to minimize the its effect by making my depictions of it as inoffensive and "clinical" as I could, and now I'm seeing a big hole in that way of handling the matter.

When I've given thought to the automaton's relationship to its owners and audience, I've been thinking this whole time only of the automaton as metaphor for the gap between man and machine, which it is. But what I've almost completely left out of my own mental equation is the additional subtextual metaphor of White society versus The Mysterious Other. And lensed through all the feminist/Person of Color essays I've read in the last day or so, I'm suddenly realizing that modern Readers of Color are simply not going to be able to escape seeing that metaphor. More importantly, how did I manage to escape seeing the importance of that metaphor? Why lookie there: That's some big old White Privilege right there. I've never seen it because I've never had to see it. Also -- not by way of excuse, but by way of explanation -- every other book I've read about the automaton (all of which were, unsurprisingly, written by White writers) also glosses quickly over this subtext. Looking now at my three primary resources, Standage gives it about a paragraph, Wood three lines in two separate paragraphs, and Ewart pretty much nothing at all. Then again, these three books represent by-the-facts historical accounts, not historical docudramas that create fictitious versions of actual persons and give them personalities and agendas for the purpose of making a good (and at its truest center, fictional) story.

So I need to address this hole in my thinking, which means more research, and not just the book-reading type, but research into my own mental paradigms. Like -- how is it that, as part of my research, I've thought to read books about servants' behavior and period clothing and women's 19th century societal repression and Maria Theresa's reign, but I've never bothered to actually read up on Vienna's troubled history with the Ottoman Empire beyond securing a few dates and place names? Perhaps this is reading too much into my little bout of self-flagellation, but I'm suddenly seeing a connection between my own reading and writing behavior and the arguments of so many Women of Color when faced with 60's-era Feminism: I'm taking all sorts of time to make sure the (White) women and (White) lower-class citizens are accurately represented, but I've given practically no thought to accurately portraying how the purposefully-Othered automaton was being received by its probably-entirely-White audiences -- and more importantly, by my modern-day Readers of Color.

When he created the automaton in the guise of a Turkish man, Kempelen was responding to late-eighteenth-century Austrian society's dual infatuation with the beautiful, exotic trappings and omnipresent threat of the Ottoman Empire. The Battle of Vienna was still undoubtably on everyone's mind -- it took place less than a hundred years before the automaton's debut --- and his audience would have immediately understood both the alien mystery and intimidation inherent in Kempelen's choice of costume for his figure.

Funny, that: Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. The more that I think about it, the more that I realize not engaging with this specific metaphor is really doing the book a disservice on a lot of levels. The question now is how to address it? I'm planning on making redactions to the opening scene anyway, maybe I'll stick something in there. I do know that bringing this subtext into my forebrain will also color my characters' future interactions with the automaton, which is good, and necessary. I can't promise their reactions will be a moving treatise on the state of man's suspicion of fellow men, but my being aware of it is the first step towards writing a better-balanced script.

Also, there's a direct intersection between the story of the automaton and the sad end of Joice Heth that I was going to purposefully avoid (due to issues with plot derailment and pacing), and now I don't think I can get away from it: Maelzel and Barnum were exhibiting their respective "shows" in the same building, for crying out loud. I think it'd be disingenuous to my readers to gloss over that bit of history because it makes me uncomfortable to talk about, and casts a stain on our collective mental image of PT Barnum as a scoundrel-but-still-mostly-an-okay-guy. There just aren't any other major Black historical figures that cross direct paths with the automaton, and for me to leave that scene out would be a loss to the story, and a loss of a teachable moment for both myself and the readers.

Aside: The Congress of Vienna essentially outlawed slavery in Europe in 1815 (or rather, condemned the idea in polite society; Roma were still kept as slaves in Transylvania and Wallachia until the late 1850's). It would be a interesting juxtaposition to have Maelzel -- this guy who has been seen as a larcenous, misogynistic scumbag so far in the story -- call Barnum out on the fact that Barnum had purchased a human being for the sole purpose of displaying her in a freakshow.

So yeah. Lots to think about in the next hundred pages or so. Depending on how I feel over the next few weeks, I may consider putting the book on hold for a bit at the natural stopping point of the end of the first part (coming up for you readers in about five months) while I get this sorted out. If I am going to Get Brave and Try Harder, then this is something I need to do in order to Fail Better.

As a self-publisher, I don't have an editorial checkrein on my writing; this can be both good and bad. I don't have anyone else supervising my work and calling me on easy bullshit like what I've just written above -- but I also have the freedom to go back and re-examine my own work, and redo it if necessary, on pretty much whatever schedule I choose. I want to be a better writer, not because I'm hoping for brownie points from People of Color, or because I want to assuage my White Liberal Guilt (which I am wallowing in right now, I won't deny it) but because I value my own discomfort and ignorance less than hurting my readers.

This graphic novel started out as a learning experience, to teach myself how to write and draw better, but in order for this to work, I have to be willing to learn what it's trying to teach me -- especially when the lessons are frustrating and difficult and mentally challenging -- and I think I'd prefer to get taught during the process of this one rather than after its published. I can't guarantee that I'm going to stick the landing on this one -- in fact, I'm expecting to fail in new and different ways -- but I can guarantee that I'm willing to try. This public post, while unfortunately being all about me and not my prospective Readers of Color, is here to remind me not to back down from that pledge.

Try harder. Fail Better.

Comments are encouraged.

Try Harder. Fail Better. Cowboy up.

As a White writer who tries to create a diverse cast of characters in her books, I fail a lot. I have deep misgivings about initial portrayals of some of my characters. I tried to rectify those portrayals in my second book, but wound up failing in other, more metatextual ways in my haste to prove I was a more mature, nuanced, well-intentioned writer at thirty than I was at twenty-five. My enthusiasm often outstrips my knowledge and self-perception, and I often fall short of the mark due to lack of perspective, research and experience.

That's where today's post comes in. This afternoon, thanks to Layla, a fellow traveler on the same path of well-meaning-failure-but-still-trying-hard, I stumbled across what I think is one of the most important discussions I've seen on the internet in years. If you're a writer -- a writer of any sort, from comics to poetry -- please take the time to read through these posts. I find them incredibly valuable.

Start here, with Elizabeth Bear's original essay on being a white writer who tries hard to accurately and fairly portray characters of Color in her books.

And then go read this open letter to Elizabeth Bear, written by a reader of Color who had some deep misgivings about one of Bear's books.

And then go read what I think is the most important, clear, nuanced, thoughtful, educational essays I've read in a long, long time, I Didn't Dream of Dragons, by Deepa D.

And then, if you're White, Deepa also wrote an important followup essay just for us. It's also very, very good.

And then finally She Who Has Hope also writes an excellent take on the situation, and includes many links to other helpful essays.

Writers, all: bravo and brava. Please keep talking; know that we are listening.

This is what the internet was meant for. Conversations like these are tremendously humbling and force open my eyes to see how much I still need to learn about Racism 101. There's much food for thought here, and I will probably spend many more hours going over these essays. My thought-trenches are deeply dug; often it's only a good swift kick-in-the-ass that can lift my head above the walls. This series of essays is just such an asskicking.

From all of this, I resolve to go back to Elizabeth Bear's motto: Try harder. Fail better. Cowboy up.

I think I'm going to tack that above my desk, now.

Screw it, I'm writing fiction.

After wibbling and wibbling over an upcoming scene, and talking to both Jim and Pam about it, I've decided to proceed with a scene I've written, as-is. It involves using Goethe as a sounding-board for Kempelen. We know for a fact that Goethe did see Kempelen's machine (he wrote Charles-Auguste about it) but I have the scene taking place at Kempelen's house -- and it's far more likely that Goethe was only one of the countless thousands who strolled past the machine when it was displayed in Frankfurt and Leipzig during its 1783-85 tour. It's highly unlikely that Goethe was anywhere near Vienna at the time, and Kempelen was old enough that he wasn't really traveling anymore. Still, there's not a historical figure (or character so far in the story) who is better suited for the conversation, and what the scene needs to accomplish: a discussion of the unification of art and science.

So? Screw it. I'm throwing the facts under the bus on this one and going for what the story needs. The audience needs to see the speaking machine demonstrated, the story needs a parry-riposte on art versus science, and von Kempelen needs to get off the self-pity pot. I'm writing historical fiction, so there.

And to soothe my conscience, I've updated the parameters of the About the Story page:

Clockwork Game is a mostly-true story, a dramatization of actual historical events, retold with as little conjecture as possible. I have, however, taken what I consider small liberties to make the story flow more smoothly. I have condensed certain events, and occasionally places, into representative moments that capture the spirit of the story more than the true letter of its history. Some characters, whose names and histories were lost to the predations of time, had to be created almost entirely from whole cloth. Strong--but not ironclad--proof exists for the actions depicted in certain scenes. And, of course, dialogue and personalities had to be invented, based on whatever writings were available.

All this being said, I am doing my best to remain faithful to the facts and personalities of the individuals, and will note any purposeful deviations, and my reason for doing so.

Man, I take this shit way too seriously.

Edited to add: Know what the dumbest thing is? Another week after I wrote this, I deleted Goethe from the story entirely. He's gone. And know what? The story's much, much better for it.

Ohwha Tanerd Iyam

For Christmas, I bought myself a few indulgences -- a couple picture books that are historical trivia/glossaries/companion pieces to the Patrick O'Brian Aubrey/Maturin books, a couple more reference books about The Turk, and this, which I found on eBay. I'm going to find a wee tiny frame for it. Does anyone else want some pretty, cancelled stamps from Slovakia? I'm not a collector myself, but if you are, speak up and I'll send them out.

(Slovakia also struck a coin with Kempelen's face on them, and Hungary did one with the Turk on it, and I'm chasing both on eBay right now. What a colossal nerd I am.)