tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51522922670463901072024-02-18T23:53:55.263-05:00Stuff Your Eyes With WonderLive as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.comBlogger152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-8108802335108215492014-11-24T14:42:00.001-05:002014-11-24T14:42:02.314-05:00That Other ShirtPlease check out my <a href="http://thatothershirt.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">That Other Shirt Project</a> to help close the gender gap in STEM fields! It'll be quiet on the blog here for a while as I bring this thing into reality.Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-49451339516095237352014-09-10T14:50:00.000-04:002014-09-11T10:56:41.648-04:00I Didn’t Tell You So You Don’t KnowI was hiding in the bathroom from him because it was the only room with a locking door. I was sitting on the toilet
while I cried and stared at the hole he had punched in the wall days earlier—a punch thrown directly beside my head. I remembered that instead of being terrified of how
out-of-control he was, I was grateful he was in control enough to punch the
wall instead of me.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through the door he called me a cunt. He called me a cunt
because he knew it is the word I find most offensive of all. I filled a glass
with water, opened the door, and threw the water in his face. You could call
this “instigating.” You could call this “the role I played in the incident.”
But I was enraged and it’s all I could think to do to express it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next thing I knew I was shoved up against a wall and his
enormous hand was around my throat. My toes were barely touching the carpet. He
had 8 inches of height on me. I don’t know how much weight he had on me,
because he always told me I was getting too fat and I didn’t like to think
about my weight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I was thinking was which scarf would be the best to
cover up the bruises he would leave on my neck. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know what made him stop, but I think it was because
I was begging and telling him that my best friend would be arriving at any
moment—fear of being caught, fear of a “private moment” becoming public. When
she arrived, I was crying. Again, still, whatever. When was the last time I
wasn’t crying? But it wasn’t because I was scared or upset about the fight. I was crying because
I was so despondent and ashamed that I had let it come to this. I didn’t think I was the type
of woman who would let a man put his hands on her. I thought I was stronger
than that. I thought I would have fought back. I thought I would have called
the cops, kicked his ass to the curb, shouted through a megaphone what a prize
piece of shit this guy was. I didn’t do any of that. Over the next weeks, that
humiliation forced me into a huddled crying mass on the floor many times until
I finally got onto antidepressants, and eventually got him to move out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told my friend we’d had a fight, and we went to see some
movie I can’t even remember.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You probably don’t know this about me, because this is a
story I’ve told to only a handful of people. I withheld it because of the shame.
I withheld it because I was raised not to say bad things about people. People
might think less of him if they knew. (Yes, the internalized politeness that affects so many women can extend to an abusive boyfriend.) But I also thought people might think less of me for
saying bad things about a person, even if they were true. I withheld it because
I was able to get out before anything worse happened, and I guess I didn’t
think it was a story worth telling when so many women have faced so much worse.
And I withheld it because I thought some people would probably think I deserved
it, just a little, because he’s such a chill guy who wouldn’t do something like
that unless I really pushed him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am fucking sick to death of reading people defend Ray
Rice, the Ravens, and the NFL—or worse, chastise them for doing “too much.” I
am sick to death of hearing people say “But she didn’t press charges” and “But
she married him.” I am sick of people convinced that this was a one-time
incident. As if being psychologically capable of punching a woman in the face
hard enough to knock her unconscious can possibly be anything close to an
isolated incident, instead of one point on an escalating line. As if being
drunk is an excuse. If you’ve ever been drunk you know that it lowers your
inhibitions, giving you the mental wherewithal to say and do the things you’ve
only been secretly fantasizing about. Being drunk doesn’t make you a different
person; it magnifies what’s already inside of you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday, I was frustrated and upset and didn’t know who to
talk to, so I tweeted out into the void:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Yes of COURSE he was a "good
guy." The fact that abusers are not 100% cloven-footed monsters is what
fuels the apologists & victim blamers.</li>
<li>While wearing the charming persona
of affability & do-gooderness, they take their darkness home to unleash on
those closest, most vulnerable</li>
<li>You're insane to think the person
you know from work or church or (LORD) the media is exactly the same behind
closed doors.</li>
<li>We don't judge morality, ethics,
legality by calculating the ratio of a person's good versus bad actions. We
judge each action.</li>
<li>Each action--THAT WE KNOW ABOUT</li>
<li>If you know of a person's
condemnable action and still choose to focus instead on his "good",
you only truly care about his value TO YOU.</li>
<li>This is a time for issues to be
black and white. Condemn the action. Offer aid and comfort to the victim.
Period.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today I realized I have a lot more to say than fits into
140 characters, tagged with #WhyIStayed or #HowILeft. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every time I read someone defending any of the horrible
decisions that have been made throughout this case, or talking about the part
Janay played in any of it as if she were acting and speaking of her own free,
unintimidated will, I feel like I’m back up against that wall with a hand on my
throat. My experience is only a shadow compared to what other women have gone
through and my empathy is brimming. But so is my anger and pain. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I firmly believe that the NFL and representatives from the
Ravens saw the video before TMZ released it. But that doesn’t even matter. It’s
not the point. We all saw the video of Rice’s callous disregard for his
partner’s unconscious body. But THAT doesn’t even matter. We knew what
happened. I don’t care if she called his mother a whore and told him his dick
was inside out. I don’t care if she spit on him. I don’t even care if she hit
him. I am disgusted by these “wait for the evidence” trolls
who contemplated elaborate scenarios wherein he drunkenly teetered into her and
the elevator door knocked her unconscious, and still, even now with the evidence in plain sight, assert that their skepticism puts them on the right side of history because "how could we have known."<br />
<br />
We knew.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A man who is demanded to be in peak physical condition
punched a woman in her face so hard that she lost consciousness. And
most people weren’t horrified by this until they literally saw it with their
own eyes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thing with domestic abuse is that people don’t get to
see it with their own eyes because it happens in "the privacy of the home." You definitely won’t
see it; it's a secret. And you know what? You probably won’t hear about it because of fear and
humiliation faced by victims, who are attacked over and over again in their own
minds whenever they feel obligated to silence. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t boycott or walk away from law enforcement, but I am
first and foremost angry that not only is Rice not in jail—he never even went
to trial. I am angered that the existence of this video was obfuscated. I am
angered that celebrities and the rich are protected classes in our justice
system.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m done with the NFL for their too little too late policies
and their godawful excuse for an investigation. (And for so many reasons
unrelated to this case specifically.) I'm done with the lies and the pandering to calm down an outraged public.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m done with the Ravens for the same reasons, and also particularly for Harbaugh’s comments that he hopes the couple can “make it
work,” with its implication that an abused woman is party to her abuse, and
that staying with an abuser is a good and right thing to do. I’m furious no one in the Ravens organization ever made Ray Rice apologize to Janay Rice in public or express regret at anything other
than getting caught and punished. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of this matters, of course, because no one in the NFL
or the Ravens is going to notice my absence from their legion of fans. I’m not
going to affect anything. The games are still going to be on in my household.
It doesn’t matter because no one in the NFL actually cares about women, unless
we are buying up their pink jerseys and keeping their male demographic happy. I
just returned from the supermarket where I saw Ravens logos on everything from
flags to chips to cakes. I’ve seen two women today wearing purple Ravens
shirts, one of them in my office. I just want to yell, “Don’t you know?
Haven’t you heard?” The logo is everywhere, and now it feels not only
pervasive, but insidious. It serves as a brand to show membership in this giant
machine, a machine that steamrolls everything in its path with a very clear
message that “if you are not a part of us, you will be alone.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It hurts to feel like you don’t matter, just like it hurts
to feel your back against that wall, with that hand around your throat. But for
some, perhaps many, the fear of being alone against something so big is the
greater of two evils.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not sure what else to say except that my heart is open
to anyone who wants to feel listened to and understood. If you need help,
please ask for it. You can reach the domestic abuse hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE
(7233), 1-800-787-3224 (TDD) or at www.thehotline.org. If you are in immediate
danger, you can call 911 and they will help you. Read #WhyIStayed and #HowILeft on Twitter and Tumblr; it will give you strength and hope. Realize that alone is the
last thing you are, and help, comfort, and empathy ARE available. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are not alone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You don’t have to be ashamed. You don’t have to be silent. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-5930609569945759242014-08-25T19:07:00.002-04:002014-08-25T19:08:17.795-04:00HiHey look, I haven't blogged in months. I'm working on a graphic novel. Finally. More soon.<br />
<br />
Be excellent to each other.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZvH8YTeldB6DE-XCrm-z10JN56mHoXRsGxDyFlD3m4YdRJ5_o0h9-d5saeQY6Y-J_cmOqrbb8dGJV0we8FSSgCxj1xExEu-Zksc7O5e33p7US4DzIacJuxZDT22b9wpjYOlGo5IY2t4s8/s1600/10540336_681424238580018_1364611651_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZvH8YTeldB6DE-XCrm-z10JN56mHoXRsGxDyFlD3m4YdRJ5_o0h9-d5saeQY6Y-J_cmOqrbb8dGJV0we8FSSgCxj1xExEu-Zksc7O5e33p7US4DzIacJuxZDT22b9wpjYOlGo5IY2t4s8/s1600/10540336_681424238580018_1364611651_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-58838404878546926002014-07-01T16:44:00.001-04:002014-07-02T13:01:07.214-04:00If You Are in Favor of Religious Freedom, This is Why You Should Be Mad About Burwell V. Hobby Lobby<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I do not agree with the recent SCOTUS decision on the <i>Burwell v. Hobby
Lobby</i> case. I have read the entire opinion as well as a substantial amount of
associated legal and lay commentary, and I consider myself very well informed
on most aspects of the case and decision. These are my very brief arguments:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<ol>
<li>The case should have entered certoriari to begin with
because it was premised upon two logical fallacies: 1) that a medical claim
(which has no basis in medical science, and neither is supported by text in the
Bible) can be considered a “religious belief” and 2) that a corporation can
exercise religious freedom (i.e., the SCOTUS majority mis-applied the
Dictionary Act).</li>
<li>Evidence, including current financial investments in Teva
Pharamceuticals, suggests that Hobby Lobby’s beliefs are not “sincerely held.”</li>
<li>Compensation for labor is fungible. The possibility that an
employee of Hobby Lobby could spend a portion of their paycheck on a good or
service Hobby Lobby considers to be sinful is no less attenuated than the
possibility of an employee taking advantage of health coverage that pays for
the contraceptive drugs or devices in question.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But it is not my intent to spend this post arguing my side. I have been
in this game long enough to understand that even the most evidence-based and
logical argument may not be enough to sway the opinions of many, especially
those with ideological beliefs that are deeply rooted in their religion. This
post is directed, <i>in good faith</i>, at
those of you who identify as religious and/or as defenders of religious freedom—specifically,
those of you who think this ruling is a victory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
One of the most important aspects of this ruling is that women’s access
to the four contraceptive drugs and devices in question <i>will not change</i>.
To keep in line with the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) and the ACA,
SCOTUS could not change the fact that insurance must cover all 20 FDA-approved
contraceptives and that cost-sharing is prohibited (i.e., women don’t have to
pay anything for these items). The ruling states that corporations with
religious objections, such as Hobby Lobby, now do not have to pay for plans
that cover items to which they object on religious grounds. However, accommodation
must be made to continue to provide the coverage with no cost sharing. This
means that either the insurance issuer will have to cover it, or the federal
government—i.e., the taxpayers—will. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Many religious conservatives are hailing this as a victory because the
Greens of Hobby Lobby will no longer have to compromise their religious beliefs
by contributing to an act they consider potentially sinful. However, under
RFRA, ACA, and the SCOTUS ruling, <i>someone</i>
still has to pay for it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
If the accommodation comes from the insurance issuer, that “someone”
may be those in the same insurance pool. That’s how insurance works: your
payments don’t directly pay for the care you receive; it is pooled to pay for
the care of all people covered by the same insurer. If the Greens are part of
their own insurance group plan, they are still (albeit in a convoluted way)
paying for contraceptive coverage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Alternatively, should the accommodation be that the federal government
pays for the coverage (as is suggested by the SCOTUS majority), that “someone”
may be all American taxpayers. This, of course, includes others who hold the same beliefs as
the Greens. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
In other words, SCOTUS has granted “freedom of religion” to a small
minority of rich business people while taking away the same exact “freedom of
religion” from countless other Americans. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Upon close examination, this decision is not about women’s rights
(which haven’t changed). And it’s not about freedom of religion (because that “freedom”
is now restricted across a much greater population). It’s about how much more power
the rich have, and how they’re willing to leverage that power to further their
own gains at the expense of everyone else. It’s about the dangers of corporate
personhood. It’s about the powerlessness and the increasing minorityhood of the
99%. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
If you are a sincere follower of Christ, you know that using one’s
riches to create hardship on others is antithetical to his teachings. I
encourage you to educate yourself about the true ramifications of the <i>Burwell
v. Hobby Lobby</i> ruling, then take action.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
There is no victory here but for the rich and powerful. </div>
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-29065231727766498612014-05-28T16:08:00.001-04:002014-05-28T16:09:01.379-04:00Fear and Aspiration: on Gun Desire<div class="MsoNormal">
I bought a gun when I was 22 years old. I didn’t
particularly want a gun. But the thing with guns—as with many consumer products—is
that whether or not you want one has not been entirely your choice to make. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was 2004 and I had moved in too soon with a man I, by all
accounts on paper and off, should never have been dating in the first place. Daniel (not his name) was a recent transplant from a poor town across the country. I was single for the first time since I was in high school. We found
each other when we both needed someone, and that’s how these things start
sometimes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His life in his home town was what some might idiomatically call
“hard.” He’d been to jail twice. He had a bullet wound to show me; he let me
touch it. This kind of “hard” seemed to neutralize the naivety within myself that was growing tiresome at age 22.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Daniel and I moved into a suburban apartment 15
miles outside of Baltimore. It was the kind of apartment complex with a tree in its name, where every wall and furnishing is ecru, and the pool is
open every summer but they don’t do much to maintain the tennis courts. This
complex concerned Daniel deeply. He had seen questionable characters in the
parking lot late at night. I realized later this simply meant “black people,”
but at the time I figured someone like Daniel knew a crime when he saw one. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You should get a gun to protect yourself.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reason he phrased it like this was that, as a convict,
he couldn’t buy one; only I could. The underlying implication was that he didn’t
need protecting; I did. Buried even deeper was the idea that I would never
conclude on my own that a gun was what I needed, and that he needed to lead me
to this important decision. I acquiesced, but the reasons I did are more complicated
than they appeared on the surface. I began to believe that if he felt we needed
a gun for protection, he must have been frightened, and if I could do my part
to offer some solace I would. I loved him. I also believed that if a person had
been shot by a gun, he had a pass to want one around. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was also correct that I would never conclude on my own that a gun was
something I needed. But suddenly this seed of desire was planted. While it
would have felt powerful to say no to my boyfriend, no to the culture that said
I needed protecting, no to fear, it actually felt much more powerful to say
yes: I am going to buy a gun. I didn't immediately understand why, but I didn't question it because it is a perfectly normal thing for a gun to make a person feel powerful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Daniel did the research (by which I mean he visited gun
stores and looked at guns and held guns and talked to gun-sellers about guns)
and found the “perfect” used handgun that would fit our needs <i>and</i> our
budget—a Glock .40. I played the part of the gun-shopping Independent Woman as
I autonomously picked the gun out of the case and asked to see it. Daniel
lurked across the room in a not-at-all suspicious manner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This gun is too big for a girl like you,” the gun-seller told
me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took a breath and thought about the Desert Eagle scene
from <i>Snatch, </i>how there were
much bigger guns I could want. I said, “It’s the one I want.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We took it out back and I shot it into a hill. It was the
first time I’d ever fired a gun. My arm hurt for the next week because I locked
my elbow when I shouldn’t have. He told me not to knock my elbow, and I did
anyway. Independent Woman. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Inside, I watched a training video and signed all sorts of
paperwork that told me what I was doing—buying a firearm on behalf of a convict—was
clearly illegal. <i>I’m doing this for me</i>, I told myself. I told everyone. I told myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once I had the gun home, I almost never touched it. I shot
it a sum total of about 40 times, at Daniel’s behest. But Daniel always had it
out: to clean it, to show our guests, just to have it nearby. Once, it was laying
on the couch and my cat cuddled up to it. It was funny, so I took a snapshot and posted it on Flickr. That picture later ended
up in the satirical pamphlet, <a href="http://www.atomicbooks.com/index.php/how-talk-to-cat-gun-safety.html" target="_blank">“How to Talk to Your Cats About Gun Safety.”</a> Funny
things, cats. Guns.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I talked about it though. I liked to tell people I owned a
gun because it shook up their image of me. I’d always leaned punk and I liked
anything that shook up people’s image of me. I liked to wear my Doc Martens and
tell people I was President of the National Honor Society. I liked to vote
Democrat and own a gun. Owning a gun was never about the gun. It was about the
idea of the gun as a marker of status and identity. It wasn’t the power of
being able to shoot someone; it was the power of being able to say “you don’t
know me.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spoiler alert: Daniel and I broke up within the year. We
split the cats and the furniture; I kept the gun, due to laws and stuff. But I
was less interested in having it around than ever. I was moving to the actual
city of Baltimore and, ironically, having a gun with me felt more dangerous
than not having one. I got a gunlock from a free giveaway at Dick’s Sporting
Goods, locked the gun, and left it at my parents’ house. I haven’t even seen
the keys for the lock in almost a decade.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My father wants me to sell it. He works on an Army post and
knows a lot of potential buyers. One of my best friends says Glocks are hot
right now and I could make good money if I sell it, and besides—“It’s too much
gun for you.” Locked up like it is, uncleaned and unshot for years, it’s a 100%
useless tool and I don’t want it anyway. It makes all the sense in the world to
trade it for $400. But I guess the reason I don’t want to sell it is that
people want me to sell it. It’s a weird inverse of the same reason I wanted to
buy it—because people didn’t expect it of me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ideologically, I am an outspoken proponent of gun control. In
the wake of the UCSB shooting, my guts are turned inside out and I basically
can’t stop thinking about how to approach the issues that so badly need to be
discussed—but not in the way they have been. I’ve come to the conclusion that the
most potent lesson I’ve learned from owning a gun has nothing to do with the
physical capabilities of the gun itself, and everything to do with how guns get
tangled up with your identity. <i>This </i>is why guns are different from knives and
cars and other things that <i>can</i> (and do) kill people. Even the etymology
of “arm” comes from the Latin prefix <i>ar</i>-, meaning “to fit together.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the conversation that we’re just now starting to
have. Journalist <a href="https://twitter.com/AdamWeinstein" target="_blank">Adam Weinstein</a> recently tweeted, “Elliot Rodger forces us to
ask not whether America makes it too *easy* to wield a gun, but too *desirable*.”
Richard Martinez, the father of one of the victims, <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/father-of-victim-in-santa-barbara-shootings-to-politicians-i-dont-care-about-your-sympathy/2014/05/27/8a030d10-e5ad-11e3-a86b-362fd5443d19_story.html" target="_blank">recently said</a>, “I am
angered by how they [the NRA] have worked to normalize this.” The NRA and
groups like them have worked to not only create a climate wherein guns are
accessible; they have worked to manufacture a desire for guns that is as
unconsidered and insatiable as a biological appetite. They buttress this
appetite with questionable jurisprudence turned into sound bites, and the
result is a terrifyingly polarized conversation that has people losing their minds.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reality of my situation was not that I bought a gun
because I was an Independent Woman. Rather, I can trace back the transference
of desire for a gun like a chain of custody, or like a virus. How that desire
manifests in each individual is itself individual—whether, as with me, as an
act of subtle rebellion that grew uncomfortable, or as with Rodger, as the
means to reach the Alpha status he’d coveted. Fear and aspiration have been the
most successful and most insidious tactics of marketing and advertising for
ages. They are intrinsic to identity. What are you afraid of, and who do you want
to be? Fear and aspiration are also what drive gun desire.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I believe it’s irresponsible (and not to mention unproductive) to make this most recent issue into a discussion about
gun control OR mental health OR misogyny. The topic an individual and groups grabs hold of is as wrapped up in their identity as gun ownership itself is wrapped up in the gun owner's identity. Our reactions are a barium swallow
that makes a part of us glow to reveal what’s really going on inside. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
first incremental step in being able to have the conversation that will move us
toward a solution is to recognize the effects fear and aspiration have on our
idea of self. Then we have to try to override our personal biases to the best
of our ability. Only then can we start to understand the culture we have created, which is the same culture we have to transcend, individually and collectively.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have to be able to lose ourselves before we will be able
to stop losing one another. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-68423223262619405152014-01-08T15:50:00.002-05:002014-01-08T15:50:38.690-05:00"Clean" Reprinted in Literary Orphans<div class="MsoNormal">
I am so honored and humbled that <a href="http://www.literaryorphans.org/playdb/" target="_blank">Literary Orphans</a> has chosen
to include a reprint of my short story “<a href="http://www.literaryorphans.org/playdb/clean-by-elly-zupko/" target="_blank">Clean</a>” in their latest issue, <i>Bettie</i>. I
have not published a short in a very long time, and I couldn’t have chosen a
better venue (and in fact I did not choose it; it was recommended to me by <i>LO </i>alum
<a href="http://matchstickcircus.com/" target="_blank">Matthew Kabik</a>). So many online literary magazines exist simply to eliminate
layout and printing costs; I had one magazine print a story of mine without any
line breaks. But <i>LO </i>uses the features of the web to transcend its paper
counterparts, and the effect is entrancing. I plan to curl up with this issue
glowing from my iPad later tonight, tea and cats beside me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is beautiful and
brave work in this collection. Please take some time to join me there to feed
your brain and heart. </div>
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-51751864833792360642013-11-27T17:28:00.003-05:002013-11-27T17:32:24.100-05:00Bali Day One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4sfNDuRgwqf-Qs4XH2GbgJ78bfxqnB71WLoIe1PtUKU8Qd4zIb_06tz7zzGuhkaZb120Dx8vOKPiM3YhYaQi3Wjc9qAaaBZRTSkUHYPeWvtXPyEEgiKEwwDVS6BrL4hlTpYnRRuP9ZU5/s1600/2013-11-27+17.02.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4sfNDuRgwqf-Qs4XH2GbgJ78bfxqnB71WLoIe1PtUKU8Qd4zIb_06tz7zzGuhkaZb120Dx8vOKPiM3YhYaQi3Wjc9qAaaBZRTSkUHYPeWvtXPyEEgiKEwwDVS6BrL4hlTpYnRRuP9ZU5/s320/2013-11-27+17.02.20.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My fiance and I just spent a week in Bali, Indonesia. This is from the travelogue that I did not keep past the first day:<br />
<br />
After 30+ hours of travel, we arrived on Sunday night to the Bali airport in Denpasar to broken ATM machines and difficult decisions about whether to declare Gabe's oranges. For brief moments I was terrified we would spend the week in Bali without a way to get cash. But we found a working ATM and for probably the only time in our lives, we got to view bank balances in the tens of millions. After an hour and a half drive to Candidasa, we did little more than pick at the delicious traditional Balinese meal, then fell into a hard bed in sticky heat with only a single three-blade fan to cool us, and had the best sleep of our lives.<br />
<br />
Ryan warned us we would wake with the sun, around 6:30am, and his prediction was vindicated, for me at least. Gabe was still deeply asleep beside me as I rose, found the villa's promised yoga mats, and padded outside to the postage stamp lawn. The sun rising to my left, I faced the ocean and practiced five rounds of sun salutations. It was the most peaceful and beautiful I have felt in so long.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXL-VxU4jtDaxjC9gYJTSZwkEr6wd4GcjNBLhc-KZegsowD7xWRfbSjcIuNGgImIWHWmI5Qvrm4x4n1HbrMH1DCYrlvEQ8I8-Lkiln0DBtwBUEcFLZ63_rQAdMv8Hrt1Qeh1Z6NtJGdBQ/s1600/2013-11-20+05.40.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXL-VxU4jtDaxjC9gYJTSZwkEr6wd4GcjNBLhc-KZegsowD7xWRfbSjcIuNGgImIWHWmI5Qvrm4x4n1HbrMH1DCYrlvEQ8I8-Lkiln0DBtwBUEcFLZ63_rQAdMv8Hrt1Qeh1Z6NtJGdBQ/s400/2013-11-20+05.40.08.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
It is impossible to write about the events of today without overshadowing them with our accident. John, Ryan, and Gabe rented scooters. I was too afraid, as is usual for me, but rather than stay at home, my compromise was to wrap my arms around Gabe's belly and ride on the scooter behind him. I was terrified at first, but seeing Gabe's pleasure and exhilaration at driving gave me pleasure and exhilaration. Driving in Bali is nerve-racking for so many reasons, and the rain--which I assume we will face daily (as it is the rainy season)--exacerbates them all. After riding many hours to visit the Taman Ujung Water Palace and the Water Temple at Tirtagangga, we were mere meters from home, when, having missed what we thought was our turn, Gabe attempted a turnaround on a slick incline out of a parking lot. The bike slipped out from beneath us and sent us skidding over the gravel.<br />
<br />
Immediately, we were surrounded by people who wanted to help. They got us to our feet and aimed hoses at the dirt that stuck in our wounds. Gabe had landed squarely on his shoulder and suffered a deep contusion, but thankfully no dislocation or breakage. He had a deep, large scrape on his elbow and is already proud of the scars he will undoubtedly grow. I was not as injured: a big scrape on my knee and cuts on my right hand, with minor scrapes on my elbow, arm, and shoulder. Gabe seemed to have a tear in his eye when he told me how thankful he was that I wasn't badly hurt. I knew the feeling.<br />
<br />
The Australian owner of the Bayside Bungalows took good care of us, strangers. He sent one of his staff for iodine at a nearby "dokter," then sent two more to see us home: one to drive us in a van and a second to follow with the fateful rented scooter. Our brains mush from the accident, we mumbled apologies to the driver as we stared desperately, trying to remember where we were staying in this new town that had not even known us 24 hours. Finally, we were relieved to find our road, which Gabe will attribute to me, but what was really a lucky accident of our driver. We paid the scooter owner 100,000 rupia for the damaged bike (about $9USD), then limped home to Villa Nilaya.<br />
<br />
This was our first day in Bali.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVRDnkOufmi5ctgzBxJGqyNfhYH3_aDzawXL-pIO-ftQfG4kXD8CF_XdP5_3hqwSzIuz35uCovxLZ6_1irr3uu8ofiTDJJSwYRN6WiYYGDQqfL9e-HxLip1BB6SUK8O9lliE5ulW99b1h/s1600/IMG_0948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVRDnkOufmi5ctgzBxJGqyNfhYH3_aDzawXL-pIO-ftQfG4kXD8CF_XdP5_3hqwSzIuz35uCovxLZ6_1irr3uu8ofiTDJJSwYRN6WiYYGDQqfL9e-HxLip1BB6SUK8O9lliE5ulW99b1h/s400/IMG_0948.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-7003383689641031132013-09-17T13:55:00.000-04:002013-09-19T16:16:14.952-04:00One Year; Year OneIt’s been a long time since I’ve written something very
personal on this blog. I feel the urge today. Perhaps it’s because I’ve
developed a recent addiction to reading personal essays by women. Perhaps it’s
because I’ve always had an affinity for dates and anniversaries. Perhaps it’s
because autumn makes me introspective. Perhaps it's because September 17th, 2012 was the beginning of the rest of my life.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/dqCD3vwJQG/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
One year ago today, a significant aspect of my life was
flipped upside down. I know it was today because I wrote it down in my writing
journal. “September 17<span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span>, 2012, ----- --------- broke up with me.”
It was a single line in the margins between notes about the book projects I had
in progress at the time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My “partner” of 6½ years, with whom I had been living for almost
2 years, unceremoniously broke off our relationship one Monday morning. It was the first day of a week I had taken off work to dedicate to my writing. We'd had a fight the previous night when he came home too late and lied about who he was with. He woke
up in the morning, showered and dressed for work, came out to the living room
where I was lounging in my pajamas with a book, leaned against a piece of
furniture, and told me it was over. He didn’t even sit down to tell me this. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I put “partner” in quotes because that’s never truly what he
was to me. It was only what I called him. I started using that term in our sixth year together, when “boyfriend”
was too young an expression and “husband” was something we agreed he would
never be. (One of many compromises I made was that marriage and children were off the table.) We had a formal domestic partnership in place so that he could be on
my health insurance. I had replaced romance with paperwork, thinking I would take
what semblance of permanence and commitment I could get. He never used the term. I’m not sure what word he used to
refer to me. I’m not sure he ever referred to me at all. I found out several
months ago that his boss at a job he’s been at for years didn’t know I had
written a book. He was a photographer who only took my picture a few times, an
apt metaphor for our relationship. But despite the many problems, it's hard to overstate the effects being in a near 7-year relationship can have on a person, and even harder to overstate the effects of its sudden end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We lived passively together for the next 5 weeks, while we
worked with our landlord to find someone to take over the apartment, and I
tried to find a new place to live. Our life together was shockingly similar to the way it was before the breakup, a fact that made it easier to swallow the reality and the necessity of the situation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The immediate effect of the breakup, aside from the
traditional cycle of grief (which seemed to spin on an endless loop those
first few weeks), was a deep introspection and a consuming need for intense
self-care, which I had let lapse for years. I planned a trip to Colorado in an
effort to reconnect with my semi-estranged sister, my relationship with whom
had been strained in large part because of my ex. I emailed another friend with
whom I had been estranged for years; he was ecstatic to hear from me, and we
forgave each other for past wrongs. I wrote love letters to my friends. I
called everyone I loved and made plans with them. I scheduled every day for a solid
month to do something, anything. I dedicated myself to a new [semi]-minimalist
lifestyle and gave away, sold, or trashed a significant portion of my
possessions. I found a beautiful studio apartment in a neighborhood that scared
me; I knew living there would make me grow. Moreover, it was somewhere I couldn’t
live with another person, so I knew I would have 18 months of living alone—and that
was essential for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/S9dl_7QJV6/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the midst of all this, as well as being sad and angry and
confused, I reconnected with someone else from my past. He was a would-be
suitor from a foray into online dating 7 years earlier. We’d run into each
other on Facebook in December 2011, when my book came out, and had been “friends”
since then, but one or the other of us had been involved. This was the first
time we were both single, and to say I began to notice him is a gross
understatement. By the time I was in Colorado, we were texting with each other every
day, for almost the entire day. We had our first date on November 3. I threw up
that morning because I was so in love with him, and we hadn’t even met yet.
That date lasted 2 days. Today, we already have plans for a weekend away for
our 1-year anniversary, and are planning a trip to Asia. I could write a book
about what meeting this man has done to my heart, soul, and mind. We agree it’s
a blessing we never went out those 8 years ago; we needed these years to become
the people we are, the people who were meant to be together. I lamented the
time “wasted” with my ex and he the time wasted on his own dating foibles, but
we reminded each other that we are who we are because of what—and who—has happened
to us. It truly feels like my whole life was spent in a run-up to meeting him,
again, and having him meet me, and then falling in love with each other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To spend time thinking about what else the past year has
brought is not to minimize my new relationship. It is by far the most important
thing to happen. But there has been so much more. Indulge me while I take
inventory, in no particular order. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>I attempted—and failed—to learn French. Relatedly, I learned
that learning is harder when you’re older, and that I am not, in fact, good at
everything.</li>
<li>I turned 31 and threw myself a rager of a birthday party to
make up for the failed 30<sup>th</sup> birthday that had gone forgotten.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/TBnd74wJST/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I gained—and subsequently lost—18 pounds.</li>
<li>My football team won the Super Bowl.</li>
<li>I put out the second edition of <a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/" target="_blank">my novel</a>, finished the <a href="http://vimeo.com/70694054" target="_blank">booktrailer</a>, and threw the most glorious book reading for the best of my best
friends and family.</li>
<li>I gave away almost all my art supplies in a conscious
decision to focus my free time on my writing.</li>
<li>I bought more art supplies so I could draw my first comic. I
drew <a href="http://zupkabik.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">my first comic</a>.</li>
<li>I decided one day to stop texting my ex first, just to see
if he would ever contact me. He never did and we haven’t spoken in 7 months. I
deleted his number from my phone. I’ve seen him once, across the street at a
festival. I don’t think he saw me.</li>
<li>I learned to love my body, instead of feeling like it is
always a work-in-progress. I started to feel truly beautiful for the first time
in years.</li>
<li>I cut out sugar and grains and have subsequently learned to
cook some really interesting foods, like <a href="http://www.ohonemorething.net/tag/greenola/" target="_blank">greenola </a>and spaghetti squash.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/dnlPzaQJdK/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I started practicing yoga at a studio.</li>
<li>I allowed myself to grow out my hair because I like it that
way.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/bhMsZTwJe-/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I started wearing more makeup because I want to.</li>
<li>I tried on bikinis instead of one-pieces. (I did not,
however, buy one.) I started wearing shorts on the regular for the first time
since childhood.</li>
<li>I decided that I would like to be heavily tattooed, and
scheduled 9 hours of tattooing over the next 3 months. I hired an artist to
design a tattoo to commemorate my first book.</li>
<li>I put over 20,000 miles on my car.</li>
<li>I took my bassoon out of its case, put it together, and attempted to play it for the first time since June 1999. It belongs to my nephew now.</li>
<li>I reconnected with my sister and spent excellent quality time with my niece, who is becoming an adult faster than I can bear.</li>
<li>I started spending my money on things that make me—and my
loved ones—happy, instead of squirreling it away in paranoia and anxiety. I
bought art. I bought pretty dresses. I donated to Kickstarters. I bought plane
tickets to Bali.</li>
<li>I remembered how much I love to walk. I climbed a mountain.
I regularly hike through Baltimore just to be sure I am truly noticing all the
people and the things there are to see. I replaced driving with walking whenever
possible.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/dIlGKawJY3/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I started bicycling. I am terrible at it, but getting
better.</li>
<li>I took up feminism.</li>
<li>I realized I DO want to get married and I DO want children,
and that I had deluded myself out of those desires because of a man, and fuck
that forever.</li>
<li>I neglected this blog, but I started tweeting like crazy.</li>
<li>I started listening to more music and less news. I listen to
hip-hop without feeling embarrassed about it. In fact, I listen to whatever I
want without feeling embarrassed about it. I pretty much stopped feeling
embarrassed, because people who make me feel embarrassed don’t count.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/bM-IrswJcN/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I took a class in religion. I discovered Buddhism and
Unitarian Universalism, and started going to church sometimes. These may very
well be the answers to the spiritual questions that have been haunting me for a
decade.</li>
<li>I realized I might still like to be a minister some day, and
I started looking into it in earnest.</li>
<li>I decided I don’t need a Master’s degree to feel like a
whole person.</li>
<li>I cut down on drinking alcohol from nightly to once per
week, or none at all.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/b-E6rnwJde/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I finally got over my fear of the dentist and got my teeth
fixed. I FUCKING FLOSS NOW.</li>
<li>I learned that I can’t do everything myself. I learned to
let people help me. I learned that the way it makes me feel really awesome to
help people is the way it feels for other people when they help me, and it’s
only fair that everyone gets to feel that.</li>
<li>I tried to smile and say hello to everyone I saw on the
street. That ended when I realized how much street harassment I was facing. I
realized I don’t owe it to anyone to smile at them, so I stopped. I feel very
ambivalent about this, but I have become very outspoken against street harassment.</li>
<li>I went to my 10-year college reunion.</li>
<li>I networked. Like an adult.</li>
<li>I go out to eat or to concerts by myself sometimes—not because
I can’t find someone to go with me, but because I realized I am friends with myself.</li>
<li>I Instagram my meals and my cats with abandon because fuck
the haters.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/dCzhy_wJXP/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I have more, better sex than ever, and I realized I am no less
than one half of that equation.</li>
<li>I make a concerted effort to see at least one of my friends
every week. Depending on your personality, this may not seem like a lot, but it’s
a significant change from the way I used to live my life.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/TBnnyiQJSe/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
<li>I remembered what it’s like to enjoy things with abandon. I
remembered what real happiness feels like. I stopped thinking it was cool to be
aloof or critical. I stopped giving energy to people or situations that make me
feel bad.</li>
<li>I’ve made new friends. My boyfriend has made friends with my
friends. I’ve made old friends into new friends. I’ve made acquaintances into
best friends. I’ve made best friends into family. I got rid of
friends-in-name-only. I will never again neglect the people who will never
leave me.</li>
<li>I fell into a deeper, truer, more perfect love than I could
have dreamed possible.</li>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/ds1ampwJUx/embed/" width="612"></iframe>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s more. So much more. What a year it’s been. 13’s
always been my lucky number. I guess it figures that I’d be age 31 in the year ’13,
and it would be the best fucking year of my life. It took a major shaking up to
wake me out of the fog I was living in. It felt like a knife at the time. Now
it feels like a gift. </div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/dDkbBHQJcF/embed/" width="612"></iframe>Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-87252197279164134872013-09-11T09:26:00.001-04:002015-08-31T15:53:17.421-04:00Suggested Name Replacements for the Washington DC NFL Team<div style="text-align: center;">
The Red Scans</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://optimalhumanmodulation.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/cylon-gif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://optimalhumanmodulation.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/cylon-gif.gif" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Red Skinks</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.scserp.com/SCSPhotoGalleryMiscellaneousLizardsFullSizeImages/FireSkink001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.scserp.com/SCSPhotoGalleryMiscellaneousLizardsFullSizeImages/FireSkink001.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Ruxpins</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.timeinc.net/time/photoessays/2011/mr_toys/teddy_ruxpin_alt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.timeinc.net/time/photoessays/2011/mr_toys/teddy_ruxpin_alt.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Rad Skins</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOS7FL5BuboNAMxhrNlsa_n5fZvjF8WXCMefYzIt7miSWJFo5tIr3LrQS5Bk82ylntA2RCaMankyM-sDbp1kLnUsOOb3P4rlzBvwBa8D15h-0FImDMPjO2xmNGPCsITxPil4-pL6PHlrkv/s1600/04CoolDudes1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOS7FL5BuboNAMxhrNlsa_n5fZvjF8WXCMefYzIt7miSWJFo5tIr3LrQS5Bk82ylntA2RCaMankyM-sDbp1kLnUsOOb3P4rlzBvwBa8D15h-0FImDMPjO2xmNGPCsITxPil4-pL6PHlrkv/s320/04CoolDudes1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Redd's Kin</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/sites/default/files/2013/07/redd_foxx_royal_family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/sites/default/files/2013/07/redd_foxx_royal_family.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And read <a href="http://www.grantland.com/story/_/id/9376010/rename-washington-redskins" target="_blank">this mic drop</a> if you haven't. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-79947457918075139212013-08-12T15:38:00.000-04:002013-09-11T10:31:53.482-04:00A Visit to FairgosHave you checked out the book trailer yet? Don't forget to check out the revamped <a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/">www.warmastersdaughter.com</a> as well!<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="366" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/70694054?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="650"></iframe>Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-25256124498587387322013-08-11T21:30:00.000-04:002013-08-12T13:48:53.989-04:00Dat Hash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRL4v8msjBl5tQICv543lUqmHlTK8ovRU-fJHbLPpujsBvd9xGWDBo0I2fEfQiB3z_-HoyuPI0YrHM-Dp8lpMUDRw24ofzZmvnDd8evPLJ_lIRbCkx8rI_5hMf_nqmIn6QuBjNZPUIP0zQ/s1600/2013-08-11+11.39.34-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRL4v8msjBl5tQICv543lUqmHlTK8ovRU-fJHbLPpujsBvd9xGWDBo0I2fEfQiB3z_-HoyuPI0YrHM-Dp8lpMUDRw24ofzZmvnDd8evPLJ_lIRbCkx8rI_5hMf_nqmIn6QuBjNZPUIP0zQ/s400/2013-08-11+11.39.34-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've had a couple of requests for this recipe so I thought I would toss it up here on the blog. This is my almost famous Brussels sprout hash, which has become a staple of my Sunday brunches. Since I cut sugar and grains from my diet at the beginning of July, I'm doing a lot more veggies, protein, and fat, so my table is probably going to be seeing a lot more of this favorite. It's low carb with enough fat and protein to make it a great way to start the day. To make this vegan, simply leave out the bacon and sub your favorite oil that has a decent smoke point. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<u>Ingredients</u>:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>4 slices uncured bacon (Safeway and Wegman's both have delicious store-brand varieties)</li>
<li>A bunch of fresh Brussels sprouts, quartered lengthwise (Sorry, but I never notice how much I'm buying... I get enough to fill up my cast iron skillet. Probably 1-2 lbs should do you)</li>
<li>1/4 - 1/3 c. your favorite nuts, chopped up (I've used cashews, pistachios, almonds, and pecans. They're all good, but I think pecans are my favorite for this)</li>
<li>2 - 3 T. balsamic vinegar (Red wine vinegar will do in a pinch. Flavored balsamics are dreamy in this. I like to use the maple balsamic from <a href="http://www.loveoliveoilvinegar.com/" target="_blank">Lebherz Olive Oil & Vinegar Emporium</a>)</li>
<li>Salt and pepper to taste</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<u>Directions</u>:</div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Fry up the bacon in a cast iron skillet over med-high heat until it is about 75% done. Remove from pan and drain on paper towels. Leave the drippings in the pan.</li>
<li>Add the quartered Brussels sprouts to the pan. I've found this dish is best if the sprout pieces are not uniform. Throw in big chunks, single leaves, etc. This gives you a variety of textures and flavors when it's all done.</li>
<li>Fry the sprouts over medium heat until they start to turn darker green and some of the smaller pieces begin to blacken. Tear your bacon into pieces and throw it back into the pan. Toss your nuts in now as well.</li>
<li>Continue to fry over medium heat, stirring frequently to keep it from sticking to the pan. You may need to add a splash of oil, depending how greasy your bacon was. Fry until the biggest chunks of sprout are tender, or until your hash is just about the desired level of char. (I tend toward more char because I love the sweet nutty caramelization on the sprouts when they're really dark.)</li>
<li>When you're pretty close to being done, go once or twice around the pan with your vinegar and stir. You can be more generous with the vinegar, depending on your taste. Add salt and pepper to taste (go easy on the salt; the bacon may be enough). Cook for 2 more minutes, and you're ready to serve! </li>
</ul>
<br />
This dish is great with a couple runny fried eggs on top, or served alongside a steak. You can also make it a day ahead. Just don't cook it quite as long, and finish frying it in the cast iron just before serving.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-79092608956508142592013-07-22T12:47:00.002-04:002013-07-31T15:58:29.567-04:00Pictures From the Release Party <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Thank you again to everyone who made this a success. Please do yourself a big favor and check out the work by my amazing readers, <a href="http://laurabogart.wordpress.com/about/" target="_blank">Laura Bogart</a> and <a href="http://matchstickcircus.com/" target="_blank">Matthew Kabik</a>. Laura read from her novel-in-progress, and Matt read from his story <a href="http://ceasecows.com/2013/06/14/the-long-waiting-noise-by-matthew-kabik/" target="_blank">"The Long Waiting Noise,"</a> recently published by Cease Cows. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjsMCM4U8kVhudYFc6j7aZ_JdTnevlzuwDJ8dhgaCvuWgv4pnkPKbBW-4R6s0h7It4kS2XBJ-xbBz-MdPMUfrT_6PULpri0TzjFbWnab-3ccAMRLaYeFREs6lks7zlRiTdFhg4WjzezkS/s1600/2013-07-20+20.26.24-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjsMCM4U8kVhudYFc6j7aZ_JdTnevlzuwDJ8dhgaCvuWgv4pnkPKbBW-4R6s0h7It4kS2XBJ-xbBz-MdPMUfrT_6PULpri0TzjFbWnab-3ccAMRLaYeFREs6lks7zlRiTdFhg4WjzezkS/s1600/2013-07-20+20.26.24-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjsMCM4U8kVhudYFc6j7aZ_JdTnevlzuwDJ8dhgaCvuWgv4pnkPKbBW-4R6s0h7It4kS2XBJ-xbBz-MdPMUfrT_6PULpri0TzjFbWnab-3ccAMRLaYeFREs6lks7zlRiTdFhg4WjzezkS/s400/2013-07-20+20.26.24-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMZ-0tSti8D3j9T1CTaZNE0iOPcfUWd3CVOheL1UtNRZ8PspMjoXDF8F6tkbBseqx8HZ7ywMRhsJury9qb032UB3iSwgcfvjtjcbZ6dYMzWv22tHPdG0YT8Ojkj9nPpYShZ4pP9pSRQ-_/s1600/2013-07-20+20.26.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMZ-0tSti8D3j9T1CTaZNE0iOPcfUWd3CVOheL1UtNRZ8PspMjoXDF8F6tkbBseqx8HZ7ywMRhsJury9qb032UB3iSwgcfvjtjcbZ6dYMzWv22tHPdG0YT8Ojkj9nPpYShZ4pP9pSRQ-_/s400/2013-07-20+20.26.18.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXNrsEBh1zEzCZTbOiFBcVIAaxqpBqpGXwz0TfwtPa0BiZP405wUHlySsyqRh8HSCNZO0ePhyphenhyphenw6oEpCpUxuhRHS8XkN9ZUb9Ld2L8f_0NDpH8jflYwcCN8oD3Q3qbNAYgrcG4Njc2EH6K/s1600/2013-07-20+20.26.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXNrsEBh1zEzCZTbOiFBcVIAaxqpBqpGXwz0TfwtPa0BiZP405wUHlySsyqRh8HSCNZO0ePhyphenhyphenw6oEpCpUxuhRHS8XkN9ZUb9Ld2L8f_0NDpH8jflYwcCN8oD3Q3qbNAYgrcG4Njc2EH6K/s400/2013-07-20+20.26.28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-WvMC-0RlE1TpXQ3SOvSnfU6PYRNX4R9mRLThdIPdAg6yEU_wf4FS98hCUwiggHdnMCN1ZCOGI-rcfTXvQSBoFo-6GDAr3IwJxm4ovcq4F0NVMnpTomdJg3jSrHq97UXoC9Ee0o-Nxsn/s1600/2013-07-20+20.26.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-WvMC-0RlE1TpXQ3SOvSnfU6PYRNX4R9mRLThdIPdAg6yEU_wf4FS98hCUwiggHdnMCN1ZCOGI-rcfTXvQSBoFo-6GDAr3IwJxm4ovcq4F0NVMnpTomdJg3jSrHq97UXoC9Ee0o-Nxsn/s400/2013-07-20+20.26.36.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXKLFEcpDNG_HqlTUlusdLt7249_5ikvjng6pzbZps6jFGJh6FAFb98PSaMWdn7yePdKyCAw7gh6xtCv7mZLpi17thVqixQamoI0ONwQ70i0LGvkflZLcOVDsxEGRvH6bGbk-9s9fZ3fQ/s1600/2013-07-21+11.01.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXKLFEcpDNG_HqlTUlusdLt7249_5ikvjng6pzbZps6jFGJh6FAFb98PSaMWdn7yePdKyCAw7gh6xtCv7mZLpi17thVqixQamoI0ONwQ70i0LGvkflZLcOVDsxEGRvH6bGbk-9s9fZ3fQ/s400/2013-07-21+11.01.43.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfXvuRqi1XYPmykauPnFsXwNdnftnWSzxnA-uyRFwwGIQciWi_B7ktoEvmd_NVW28oeU4Rc95gtqpIKi5hJ5XUDTltSYzMteXBv_3HyxS3sdAmCFYPL2k9MyJ39rB-AYMzshwC3aUBogn/s1600/matt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfXvuRqi1XYPmykauPnFsXwNdnftnWSzxnA-uyRFwwGIQciWi_B7ktoEvmd_NVW28oeU4Rc95gtqpIKi5hJ5XUDTltSYzMteXBv_3HyxS3sdAmCFYPL2k9MyJ39rB-AYMzshwC3aUBogn/s400/matt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5uyJy8SLfi8I62TPbaXPhlU_qIR3RFaBZo9NvxDElDKektZQ1FDPdAGSoY33he-0PqO9IuQUehb3Hb2ISQVvXbEBc37cn4ERr6Ygjd5B7C2y-_dLhMV3w1BeInVx0AHat2jhl3w88Zbs/s1600/2013-07-21+11.02.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5uyJy8SLfi8I62TPbaXPhlU_qIR3RFaBZo9NvxDElDKektZQ1FDPdAGSoY33he-0PqO9IuQUehb3Hb2ISQVvXbEBc37cn4ERr6Ygjd5B7C2y-_dLhMV3w1BeInVx0AHat2jhl3w88Zbs/s400/2013-07-21+11.02.36.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkJhAI9NMwo4q5tRoss8qKononVGii75SFd4F5HycIeJHmlkmb4Pgf1w5BWDGO-RMDJoYZQfDQp0FcK9eIHnFY1W-TlodD95QPZk44-bxrLAwRGTXW94kJuSMgjvuKIDWziXPTLrQ5ITN/s1600/2013-07-21+21.41.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkJhAI9NMwo4q5tRoss8qKononVGii75SFd4F5HycIeJHmlkmb4Pgf1w5BWDGO-RMDJoYZQfDQp0FcK9eIHnFY1W-TlodD95QPZk44-bxrLAwRGTXW94kJuSMgjvuKIDWziXPTLrQ5ITN/s400/2013-07-21+21.41.14.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDMt_LmtcRGlzfQltihqvJQOYNzvr9VWl2QEa6H4LvG9HcUKORbE0pr-ZwFuUAedWc-Uit-NgPrVmS8i9PVXtrh9IudL40-XKo6gZqW9l_gFMB-SHXsEDeSbmxuJl4eo0bDEeSJ-K31GW/s1600/913077_551798491524058_784023865_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDMt_LmtcRGlzfQltihqvJQOYNzvr9VWl2QEa6H4LvG9HcUKORbE0pr-ZwFuUAedWc-Uit-NgPrVmS8i9PVXtrh9IudL40-XKo6gZqW9l_gFMB-SHXsEDeSbmxuJl4eo0bDEeSJ-K31GW/s400/913077_551798491524058_784023865_n.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrxJPKCy1mU8oN9hWhV_T_zIPZuemq0UQeHhSjybdCwpjotZAQPFxm881B5Uf7rzhtStUhsoJGdvnyhGpMwmCSewT6hbTly0ykjUEounYK3WtR-PJsOsaaOBzG_PQZ1BsOPFgsZlXg8Mb/s1600/1080186_551798741524033_655262834_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrxJPKCy1mU8oN9hWhV_T_zIPZuemq0UQeHhSjybdCwpjotZAQPFxm881B5Uf7rzhtStUhsoJGdvnyhGpMwmCSewT6hbTly0ykjUEounYK3WtR-PJsOsaaOBzG_PQZ1BsOPFgsZlXg8Mb/s400/1080186_551798741524033_655262834_n.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-48537772916553090692013-07-21T20:02:00.000-04:002013-07-31T15:58:45.736-04:00This Is JoyI told everyone last night I had only one goal for the evening: to not cry.<br />
<br />
More or less, the goal was met. I choked up for a moment at the beginning, but it quickly subsided, laughed off in jocular self-awareness. This evening, however, as I lay on my couch and stared across the long length of my apartment, I began to weep.<br />
<br />
Last night was the celebration I feel like I've been waiting my whole life to have. I published The War Master's Daughter in December 2011, right before my 30th birthday. In the whirlwind of getting the book out, then celebrating my birthday, getting through the holidays, and everything else that life throws one's way, I never got around to having a book release party. It is one of the milestones on every aspiring author's mental wish list: holding the first copy in your hands, getting your first royalty check, getting reviewed, signing copies . . . sipping wine and eating stinky cheese at your release party. Last night, I finally threw the party, pinning my tardiness conveniently on the release of the second edition of the book and the debut of the book trailer, on which my friends and I have been working for over a year.<br />
<br />
The party was slated to start at 7pm. At 6:30, my chores complete, I stood aimless in the middle of my apartment, fully dressed, fully made-up, full of anxiety. Would there be enough chairs? Were people going to buy books; would there be enough? Baltimore has been facing a brutal heat wave; would my tiny A/C unit be able to keep 35 people cool in my old, drafty apartment? Was the excerpt I chose too long? Could these people--even though they are my friends and family--stand 17 minutes of my voice, of my own crazy ideas writ down in my own crazy vernacular? I wondered if I was being self-indulgent, grandiose, throwing myself another party. I worried my dress was too tight, my lipstick the wrong color. I worried I hadn't written a proper thank you speech. Oddly, I didn't really worry about fucking up the reading, because that's the kind of thing I'm pretty good at.<br />
<br />
But I did worry I would cry.<br />
<br />
Last night, I was surrounded by my family and the best of my best friends. These are the people I love the absolute most in this world. They were here with me, in the home I had built for myself after my life was unexpectedly flipped upside down last autumn, and they were giving me the opportunity to thank them for things I can barely put into words. I thanked everyone for being there, of course. I thanked them for the wine and hors d'oeuvres they brought, asked them if they had any trouble parking. I thanked my friends who made the book trailer by reading from the Acknowledgments of the new edition because I didn't trust my emotions to an off-the-cuff speech. I thanked the intimidatingly talented Laura Bogart and Matthew Kabik for sharing their incredible work with my audience. However--and I'm sure no one knows this, because I hardly knew it myself, as full as I was of anxiety and adrenaline and wine--but what I was really thanking them for was for loving me, for allowing me to be a part of their lives, for being my safety net when I thought I would fall forever, for being proud and never jealous, for being there at that moment instead of somewhere else, and for being there at all moments when I needed them. For letting me love them back.<br />
<br />
Tonight, I lay on my couch, stripped near bare on this steamy July day. All the furniture is still pushed out of the way, and an echo hangs on the rare words I speak aloud. I look at this space I created, this home that's mine, and I can feel the love that has filled it up. It lingers on the air like the smell of Sunday brunch in the kitchen, or honeysuckle near the mailbox of the house I grew up in. I felt it wash over me and I began to sob tears of joy. I am overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
I am overjoyed.<br />
<br />
This is joy. This is happiness. This is what you've given to me. If I can give back just the tiniest fraction of this feeling, it will be the only thing I hope ever to accomplish in my life. Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-84532535956074592512013-06-24T11:06:00.000-04:002013-07-31T15:58:56.533-04:00Pre-Ordering for the New Edition Now Available! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVNqnFqiksqGhW61WMBLmZNs2CY1pxT4Gt5WUREBBeI16qwkrkse8yvElGh5yFVeO7mQetURbUFgfW10jrKeJL7AYW7W8ZVzIQGV-8U3sDqbK1v-hG-XhntO0AciY_yKpa5XoOXA8v1a1/s640/front+cover.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-49943438224808037262013-06-03T13:08:00.000-04:002013-07-31T15:59:05.804-04:00Second Edition of The War Master's DaughterJust a quick update on exciting progress: <i>The War Master's Daughter</i> will be temporarily unavailable in paperback while the second edition is being proofed. The new edition will have a new cover, new foreword, and a new map, which was just completed last week. I'm anxiously awaiting the new proof right now! The eBook is still available via <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-War-Masters-Daughter-ebook/dp/B006LG1W8Q/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370279226&sr=8-1&keywords=the+war+master%27s+daughter" target="_blank">Amazon </a>and <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/115259" target="_blank">Smashwords</a>.<br />
<br />
I'll shortly be scheduling a release party where we'll be debuting the new book trailer, which <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liquid-Squid-Productions/335771246533726" target="_blank">Liquid Squid</a> has been working on for over a year!<br />
<br />
In other news, drafting my second novel, <i>Bugged</i>, is coming along swimmingly with the chorus of cicada providing some much needed inspiration. I'm aiming for a 2014 release.<br />
<br />
I'm also the proud owner of SMLXbooks.com and will be moving my website from the novel-centric <a href="http://warmastersdaughter.com/">warmastersdaughter.com</a> to a site dedicated to the SMLX Books publishing collective, the model for which I'm designing with some of the most creative folks I know.<br />
<br />
Don't forget that you can like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheWarMastersDaughter" target="_blank">SMLX on Facebook</a> for more frequent updates and fun posts about books, and <a href="https://twitter.com/SMLXist" target="_blank">follow me on Twitter</a> for <i>incredibly</i> frequent updates.Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-25617376060424211612013-04-15T18:40:00.002-04:002013-07-31T15:59:15.489-04:00Thoughts on Boston<br />
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
I had planned to spend this evening working on my novel. I’ve written about 12,000 words in the past 2 weeks, with a planned schedule of about a thousand words per day. But today, at the risk of depleting the supply of words I may have for my novel, I am going to make words here about today, about what happened today, about what may be described as a tragedy, definitely, or what may be described, less popularly, as a wake-up call.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
First of all, I am terribly hurt that lives were lost or permanently altered as a direct result of the bombings in Boston this afternoon. My heart goes out to all involved. What I have to say here should not diminish this tragedy as a personal one that personally affects so many people. However, it is impossible to regard an incident like this solely in the context of personal tragedy, and therefore discourse about the incident as metaphor is demanded and must be answered.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
There is a right way and a wrong way to do this, and a spectrum of ways in between. I would assert that Alex Jones chose the wrong way, who tweeted these two sentiments in the same breath, “Our hearts go out to those that are hurt or killed #Boston marathon - but this thing stinks to high heaven #falseflag.” I am not sure what I am doing here is the right way or the wrong way. When does the window open when it is not “too soon”; when does it shut when it is too late, when people have already moved on to the next sensation, whether real or manufactured? Perhaps there is no window at all. Perhaps, to some people, it will always be wrong for me to say these things. I’ve already been accused of “turning this political” and being in “bad taste.” Perhaps others are ready to hear what I have to say. Perhaps they have been ready for a long time.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
We (and Americans, I am speaking specifically to you) need to take a moment and consider our reaction to this news. When you heard, when someone told you or you saw the headline, what was your first thought? What thoughts did you have after that? How did your brain feel, your heart, your guts? Did you try to contact people to be sure they were okay? Did you spread the word? Did you research the news to see what facts were real and which weren’t? Did you formulate scenarios, imagine who was to blame, maybe even speak aloud this speculations to see if others agreed?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Did you do the same thing after Newtown?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Did you do the same thing after 9/11?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Did you do the same thing after you heard 16 civilians were killed yesterday in Iraq by bomb, bringing the total civilian body count in Iraq to 187 in April alone?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Or didn’t you know that.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Or didn’t you care.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
The thing that makes the Boston Marathon Bombing different, even though fewer people are dead, is that it happened <i>here</i>. Except, what about the 28 people, including 3 children age 13 and under, who were killed by gunshots <i>over the weekend</i>. That happened here. It happened everywhere, all over America. In fact, it happens every single day, all over America.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
How does your brain feel reading that, your heart, your guts? Why is it so different than when you heard that there were two explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
I believe it has to do with the ideas of safety, expectation, context, circumstance. The problem with 9/11, the problem with Newtown, the problem with Boston is that the people who were hurt were analogs for <i>ourselves</i>, for our friends and families. In our minds, these people are, we are, <i>innocents</i>. We are supposed to be safe. We did not choose the kind of life where death and destruction are a normal circumstance. But in our minds, if it could happen to those people, it could happen to us, and the realization that we are not in control—that no one, not our police, not our military, not even our gods are in control—is frightening on a level that goes soul-deep.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
The problem, though, is that when we think of ourselves that way, as innocent, as out of the circumstance of violence, the implicit assertion is that people in those other circumstances—Muslims living in a third world war zone, say, or gangbangers living in a first world war zone—are the opposite of that. Whether subconsciously or otherwise, there is the thought that these people somehow were not completely innocent or undeserving of what they got. Collateral damage in a war zone is not shocking; it’s barely news. It’s a ticker beneath a celebrity nip slip. Getting the annual homicide rate below 200 in Baltimore is considered a <i>success</i>. Maybe if those people don’t want to get killed they shouldn’t be involved in the drug trade, right? Maybe they shouldn’t be poor. Maybe they shouldn’t be black. Maybe if they lived in a nice Boston neighborhood and could afford to take the day off work to watch people run for fun and not because they’re being chased it would be more gut-wrenching when they died, and people might say it’s in “bad taste” when someone else politicizes it.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
You’re not safe, my fellow Americans. Your safety is an illusion. And that illusion is a pacifier that keeps your eyes off the ticker, keeps them glazed over, keeps your mouth shut except when your knee jerks because you have a ready-made sound bite you can throw at something you think deserves throwing-at. You are not safe because you live in an aggressive, hostile bully of a country—except America doesn’t steal lunch money, it kills thousands of innocent people in foreign countries, sends thousands of soldiers to die in foreign countries, and makes the deaths of thousands of victims on domestic soil into a wedge issue instead of a dire fucking emergency.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
More people have been killed by gun violence since the Newtown shooting than were killed in 9/11. You want to talk about terrorism? The government has you in terror that you’re going to lose your guns so much that you forget to be scared of actually losing your <i>life</i>. You’re lulled into submission because we spend more on defense than the next 13 countries in the world combined so that you can feel safe, so that “war zone” is a pithy metaphor used to describe two bombs going off in a major American city, instead of your everyday forever reality. So when something like the Boston bombing happens, you get upset because something woke you up.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
It’s okay to be upset. But you really ought to follow up that emotion with some good old-fashioned, red-blooded American anger. And then you better fucking do something. The window for talking about this isn’t open and isn’t closed because it doesn’t exist because somebody somewhere made you think it was in “bad taste” to talk about it, <i>because they don’t want you to talk about it</i>. If we want the killing to stop, if we want true safety instead of the mere illusion thereof, we must treat all deaths equally with our brains and our hearts and our guts.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Never forget.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Never forget.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
How many commercial breaks until you’ve forgotten? Don’t be one more American Idle.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
Here’s my thousands words. </div>
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-15235691845426377362012-12-03T10:12:00.000-05:002013-07-31T15:59:47.388-04:00Is a Brief Blog Post Flash Non-Fiction? Just a quick update: I've been madly working away on preparing the second edition of <a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/" target="_blank"><i>The War Master's Daughter</i></a>, as well as continuing to draft my next novel, <i>Bugged</i>. I've also been working with production company Liquid Squid and musician Ryan Stevens to create the book trailer, which will be released in tandem with the second edition and a re-boot of the web page. I can't apologize for not having kept up the blog because there is too much other great stuff going on! <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you need a signed copy of <i>The War Master's Daughter</i> in time for Christmas, <a href="http://thewarmastersdaughter.blogspot.com/p/purchase-book.html" target="_blank">please order by December 10</a>. The current stock is running low, and SMLX Books needs time to re-stock and ship before the holiday. This may be your last chance to get a signed first edition. The second edition is due out late winter 2013! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I hope you are all having a joyous holiday season filled with lots of cozy evenings curled up with your favorite book, a crackling fire, and a mug of cocoa (with or without rum)! </div>
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-84301211843964649782012-10-16T09:54:00.001-04:002013-07-31T15:59:58.430-04:00The Power of PunctuationThanks to <a href="http://www.authoraubrie.com/" target="_blank">Aubrie Dionne</a> for inviting me as a guest blogger on <a href="http://authoraubrie.blogspot.com/2012/10/elly-zupko-talks-about-using-powerful.html" target="_blank">Flutey Words</a>!<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Earlier this week, Facebook rolled out a feature that turns punctuated emoticons like this :) into small illustrations in the comments you post. So it seems an apt time for us writers to remind ourselves that punctuation has a far grander purpose than to wink at your reader.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">When mucking through a first draft, punctuation is usually the last thing on a writer’s mind. One may give it a second thought during the final polish stage, but this thought is more toward correction than choice. Whereas so many writing techniques seem to fall along a spectrum, we think punctuation is binary: right or wrong, required or not required. Its becomes not an option to be considered but a rule to be remembered. We think, “Is a semi-colon <i>correct</i> here?” Hardly ever: “Is a semi-colon the <i>best choice</i> here?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">I’m here to tell you that punctuation is one of the most powerful tools in your writer’s tool box and that you ought to consider periods, commas, dashes, colons, etc. to be a subset of your greater Writer’s Alphabet—which is not just twenty-six letters, but the entirety of your keyboard. . . . </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">Read the rest of this post on <a href="http://authoraubrie.blogspot.com/2012/10/elly-zupko-talks-about-using-powerful.html" target="_blank">Flutey Words</a>! </span><br />
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-9265796511474460952012-08-08T16:19:00.002-04:002013-07-31T16:00:15.880-04:00A Thousand Times Yes.<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="mozallowfullscreen" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/45097801" webkitallowfullscreen="webkitallowfullscreen" width="500"></iframe> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://vimeo.com/45097801">What I have to Offer</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user814889">Eliot Rausch + Phos Pictures</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-7824500401311816442012-07-14T22:23:00.000-04:002013-07-31T16:00:20.759-04:00A View of ROOMI don't do a lot of book reviews on this blog. I tend only to review books I read when they <a href="http://ellyzee.blogspot.com/2007/12/brief-response-upon-finishing-lolita.html" target="_blank">knock me over with a wrecking ball</a>, or when I have extremely high expectations that don't reconcile in any way with the experience of reading it. (And even then, I don't always; I have yet to write a review of <i>Watchmen </i>[the former] or <i>The Hunger Games</i> [the latter].) The motivation is sometimes to drive people to drop what they're doing and go change their lives by reading a certain book, and sometimes it's something akin to screaming, "What were you thinking?" U<span style="background-color: white;">pon finishing ROOM, a Booker Prize finalist and international bestseller that is published in 39 countries, I was so energized by my dislike for it that I sat down and promptly wrote about 1,600 words. I thought I'd reprint them here.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<hr />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://ellyzee.blogspot.com/2012/06/must-novelist-read-mostly-novels.html" target="_blank">I don’t read a whole lot of novels anymore</a>. More and more, I
find myself starting popular, lauded novels, only to stop a third or halfway
through because either they bore me or they irritate me, or both. I knew
absolutely nothing about ROOM before I read it, only that I’d seen its cover
frequently in the media and in “Best of” and “Must Read” lists, and that I thought that cover was one of the best ones I'd ever seen. I did not even
read the jacket copy or the cover blurbs, preparing myself to become entirely
enraptured in this “page turner” that had captivated so many readers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, it turned out ROOM was both boring <i>and</i>
irritating. But I forced myself to finish to ensure I wasn’t missing a grand
revelation that would make the whole ordeal worth it. I read the entire book
from a Friday night to a Saturday afternoon because I was afraid if I stopped
reading it, I would never pick up again. This revelation did not occur. I
should have stopped reading.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**The remainder of this review contains SPOILERS**<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book is split into two halves of nearly identical length
and is told through the eyes and voice of 5-year-old Jack. The first half of
the book busies itself with showing how Jack and his mother busy themselves in
an 11-by-11 room, wherein they are being held captive. A man, called Old Nick,
brings them food and takes out their trash and rapes Jack’s mother, Ma. The
story is considerably hampered by the first person narrative in Jack’s voice.
While he ascribes names and genders to inanimate objects, the people in his
life—Ma and Old Nick—fail to transcend being inanimate objects themselves. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To Jack, Ma is nothing more than his mother. I often observe
women for whom motherhood <i>is</i> their personality, and they are patently
uninteresting to me. Ma’s circumstances have made her into a person who is only
“mother,” because to recognize herself as anything else would be unbearably
devastating. (We do see how she deals with her flashes of recognition through a
bit of non-serious drug use, and periods of catatonic depression.) Perhaps this
is an issue with myself rather than the book, but I was not that interested in
Ma as a character. Moreover, a 5-year-old narrator who has not yet developed
his own skills of empathy does little to elicit empathy from the reader for the
characters he observes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Old Nick is the most uninteresting 2-dimensional villain of
all time. More than anything, he serves as a plot device. He put Ma in the
Room, he got her pregnant with Jack, he inexplicably let her keep Jack, and
with nearly unbelievable stupidity, he allows them to escape, which sets up the
second half of the book. There were multiple aspects of the set-up that did not
serve to suspend my disbelief. The first was the entire premise of Ma having a
child to begin with. There are so many questions raised that could not possibly
be answered through Jack’s narrative. How was it that Old Nick apparently has
sex with Ma nearly every night, but she only became pregnant twice in 7 years.
The book sets up at the beginning that Ma takes birth control (ostensibly
provided by Old Nick, who has a “guy”), but that obviously only started after
she became pregnant with Jack. It’s revealed that she delivered a stillborn
baby a year before Jack was born—why did Old Nick not put her on birth control
then? If Ma enjoyed having babies, and Old Nick let her have them, why did she
even take the birth control? Alternatively, why did she want to bring a baby
into the horrible world she was living in? She reveals that she had an abortion
when she was younger and did not regret it. Why did she let herself become, and
remain, pregnant—<i>twice—</i>while in
Room? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The escape itself was confusing. My first question was why
on earth would Old Nick (who seemed to think of everything in designing his
horrific love nest) not check to see if Jack was actually dead? Why would he
not find a way to <i>make sure</i> Jack was dead, beat the body with a shovel
or something? He’s supposed to be a psychopath, right? Was this out of respect
or love for Ma? Old Nick’s motivations are paper thin, and the reader is just
supposed to go with it. There was not enough here for me to go with it. My
disbelief was not only not suspended, it grew with time. As a reader, I felt
manipulated. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Other readers have noted the similarities of this book to
the Fritzl case and that the existence of a real-life case is evidence enough
to support the premise of this book and its villain; I disagree that it’s
enough, and a novelist owes her readers to create an entirely self-contained
world.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The second half of ROOM follows the escape, and has its
roots in the classic trope of “Fish Out of Water” stories, with such subtropes
as “Raised By Wolves” and “Stranger in a Familiar Land.” Ma attempts to
reintegrate herself to the world from which she was taken, while Jack observes
this new world through little “kids say the darnedest things” commentaries that
are meant to be wise, but only skim the surface of striking a new insight. Every
one of these “world through an innocent child’s eyes” scenes is deeply
irritating. I was reminded of Tarzan, Third Rock From the Sun, Encino Man—any
number of stories wherein someone unfamiliar with our world sees things
differently and makes “profound” observations. They take idioms literally. They
inadvertently ask silly questions that make people laugh. It’s been done to
death, and it’s been done better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s actually the best way I can describe my experience of
this book: irritating. I won’t pretend that I’m a huge fan of small children in
the first place, but being trapped in this kid’s head for the length of a book
was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. I think part of it was because it
wasn’t done exceptionally well. Jack is supposed to be precocious and have a
big vocabulary. He also watches tons of television (where I imagine they speak
like real people), and his mother frequently corrects his grammar. So why does
he say ridiculously wrong things like, “Ma hots Thermostat way up”? There’s
also inconsistency. I was inordinately irritated that Jack first says the trash
can lid goes “ping,” then later it changes to “bing,” and still later it’s
“ding.” Jack has childish obsessiveness with repeating and patterns and
sameness, so it was really jarring when he didn’t follow the “rules” that were
laid out for his character. Related to this, I was annoyed by the non-American
speech mannerisms that abounded in the book, which ostensibly takes place in
America, such as “bit” instead of “part” and “meant to” instead of “supposed
to.” I know Donoghue is not American, but I shouldn’t have been able to tell
that in the book—because Ma and Jack <i>are</i>. ROOM needed a much more highly
skilled editor than was assigned. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other major thing that irritated me about ROOM was that
it seemed too self-aware and too clever, which again, did not serve the
suspension of disbelief. It reminded me of the Time Traveler’s Wife in that the
author was trying to be too hip for her book. Jarring pop culture references
abounded, including song names like “Tubthumping” and “Lose Yourself.” (Really?
Eminem? Really?) Dora the Explorer was an ongoing thematic element. Again,
really? I wonder if perhaps Donoghue relied a little too much on her own
relationship with her 5-year-old son to add <i>veritas</i> to the experience of
a 5-year-old, instead of sticking with her own invented world. No one would have
had a problem if Jack’s favorite television show was made up for this book
only. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Related to this was the sense that Donoghue had some sort of
unclear ideological motivations that she needed to get out in the book. The
whole breastfeeding theme seemed unnecessary (not to mention uncomfortable); it
was charged with something much more related to the author than the story. The
secondary characters are aggressively diverse, with names like Ajeet, Oh,
Lopez, and Yung. Ma’s brother, Paul, is in a “partnership” rather than a
marriage (like the author herself), and it happens to be an interracial one at
that. Now, I have no problem with any of this; I’m as progressive as it comes.
But when you stick it in a novel the way Donoghue does, it’s not part of the
book’s tapestry; it’s a big neon sign that says “Look how modern and
progressive I am.” Coupled with the pop culture references, this book is going
to have a really short shelf life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But absolutely the worst part of the book was that it was <i>boring</i>.
The things that children obsess over—their toys, their meals, their poo—are
really not all that interesting to adults. Put that in a room where nothing
ever happens, and it gets really old, really fast. There was some tension and
movement once Ma decided to hatch their escape plan, but that lasted for maybe
15% of the book. After they escape, the tension dissipates completely, and I
found myself skimming large sections just to see if anything was going to
happen. No, nothing happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’ve read this far in the review, you’ve probably
already read the book, so I can’t tell you now to take a pass. But I wish now I
would have let someone stop me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<hr />
Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-53566650460105499672012-07-12T20:13:00.000-04:002012-07-13T10:15:07.003-04:00Semantics<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently had a brush with <a href="http://ellyzee.blogspot.com/2012/07/reconsideration.html" target="_blank">the effect poor word choice can have</a>. In the wake of all that, now I’m wondering: are we really all speaking
the same language? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I used to think that the terms “self-publishing” and “independent
publishing” were interchangeable terms, albeit with different spin. I typically
favored “indie” because it has less baggage, but used “self” when I wasn’t
thinking too hard about it (or needed that <a href="https://twitter.com/ellyzupko" target="_blank">one extra character</a>).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But thanks to <a href="http://cabingoddess.com/" target="_blank">Kriss Morton</a>, who recently
commented here on SYEWW, I had an interesting change of perspective regarding
some of the terminology we throw around in this world. “Indie” and “self” don’t
have to mean the same thing, and the differentiation can actually be a handy
tool by which we separate the wheat from the chaff. But I’ll get to that in a
moment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to start with a few other terms that frequently get
tossed into this mix, which are patently <i>not</i> interchangeable with either
“self” or “indie.” For reference, I also submit Exhibit A, the "indie triangle."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZc8jahH9VL989bZZ_iVjY9U-4IEFPt90Wphyb1sqSOrQjSqi7pKbOZzpuGciJBEe2cVYlZQqurSyVYThKIlDibtzDoQwXNyh3JdpIBPv1pe9OBQGZDv_W-7xRsLBNQchino4KR7sy8VD/s1600/self+pub+triangle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZc8jahH9VL989bZZ_iVjY9U-4IEFPt90Wphyb1sqSOrQjSqi7pKbOZzpuGciJBEe2cVYlZQqurSyVYThKIlDibtzDoQwXNyh3JdpIBPv1pe9OBQGZDv_W-7xRsLBNQchino4KR7sy8VD/s200/self+pub+triangle.jpg" width="197" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Vanity Publishing</b>
– This is quite a nefarious term—the negative connation is right there in the words!
According to the folks that coined the term (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vanity_press" target="_blank">the origin is in question</a>), an
author who goes this route is <i>vain</i>. It’s not a compliment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vanity publishing has a long and storied history (pardon the
pun) and still exists today, preying on the young and the weak of the indie
movement. Vanity presses charge authors money to put out their books, while at
the same time, making the authors feel all warm and fuzzy. The whole deal is plain
sleazy. Authors who go this route are not usually vain, but rather naïve—not
understanding <a href="http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/012967.html" target="_blank">Yog’s Law</a>. (Thanks to <a href="http://maestro23.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Dan</a> for making me hip to this
handy term.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is very important not to confuse vanity publishing—which is
basically falling prey to a network of evil hucksters—with any of these other
terms. It may not be used coincidentally with “self” or “indie” because, while
the author <i>made the decision</i> to publish, the vanity press is doing the publishing.
Only two sides of the indie triangle are at work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>E-Publishing</b> –
Due to the recent years’ upsurge in the accessibility of e-publishing, coupled
with the upsurge in the demand of e-books, e-publishing is definitely a <i>thing</i>.
Because you really only need a Word file and a good <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/" target="_blank">service </a>or software, anyone can e-publish a book with zero dollar
investment. But it’s funny to me that this is a “new” term, and newly associated
with books specifically. People have been “e-publishing” (making their content publicly
available via electronic means) since the dawn of the Internet. Yes, I include
blogs in that. I include e-magazines like HuffPost and even your Twitter feed.
I include anything posted online for all to see. I would hazard that nearly
everyone reading this right now has e-published <i>something</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But what gets my goat about the term “e-publishing” is that
it’s so conflated with self-publishing, as if that’s the only route indie
authors have. Now, I have absolutely no statistics to back this up, but my <i>gut</i>
tells me that most self-published authors are also only e-publishers. However,
with the availability of <a href="https://www.createspace.com/" target="_blank">CreateSpace</a>, <a href="http://www.lulu.com/" target="_blank">Lulu</a>, and <a href="http://www1.lightningsource.com/" target="_blank">Lightning Source</a> (to name a
few), it’s a wrongheaded assumption to think no self-publisher is publishing in
print. (Speaking for myself, it was essential to me that a paperback of my book
be available. I’ve sold more paperbacks than e-books. And I get to sign them
and dedicate them and that makes me feel all gooey inside.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So this term <i>may</i> be used coincidentally with self-publishing
or indie publishing; however, the terms are not interchangeable nor redundant
of one another. One can independently e-publish. One can be e-published without
being self-published. E-publishing is a reference only to the mechanism by
which your work is available; it’s only one side of the triangle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, to the draw some lines in the sand. I am making a
promise right now to abide by these definitions on this blog and in other
discussions. I think it’s a useful distinction to make, and I encourage others
to start making it as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Self-Publishing</b> –
This term is for authors who make their own books available to the public
independently of a “traditional” or “legacy” publishing house. (Let’s visit <i>those</i>
terms another day.) In other words, the person who made the decision to publish
the book, the person who publishes the book, and the person who wrote the book
are one and the same. All three sides of the indie triangle are present. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the <i>defining</i>
characteristic of the true “self-publisher” is that he or she does everything
by him or herself, including editing (or not), cover design, layout, etc. For
better or for worse, the self-publisher does not get others involved, and does
not necessarily follow all the steps of established publishing processes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Independent
Publishing</b> – This term encompasses the same definition as the first
paragraph of the “self-publishing” definition. <i>In addition</i>, the indie
publisher/indie author understands the importance of quality and that having
mad skillz in writing does not necessarily mean one has talent for editing one’s
own work, or knows one’s way around InDesign. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The defining characteristic of the indie publisher is that
he or she recognizes that going it by one’s self is not in anyone’s best
interest. The indie publisher will seek training, obtain assistance, and/or
hire people with the necessary skills to turn out a high quality product worthy
of the reading public. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is danger here of inadvertently conflating the
no-no-badness of vanity publishing with hiring help to put out your own book;
Yog’s Law is easily misinterpreted. Here’s my law: Thou shalt not pay to be
published; however, thou <i>shall</i> treat publishing as a business and invest
appropriately in that business, with time and/or moneys (usually both). Just
remember: hire someone to do a job. Don’t pay them to stroke your ego.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not looking to cement anything as a pejorative, and I
realize I am walking that line. I’m not here to say, “Whenever I use the term ‘self-publish’
I’m speaking only about crappy books.” If people want to use the term “self-publish”
free of negative connotation, I bid them good luck with it, and I promise not
to pre-judge. I’m sure there are some wonderful books available that have been truly
self-published with no outside assistance. But by and large, self-publishing
has a terrible, terrible reputation, and the reason for this is that so many
authors don’t <i>invest</i> in their books to the degree they should have. The
result is a lot of first drafts floating around as finals. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I am looking for is a semantic way to distinguish
myself and other high-quality independent authors from a term that stuck its
foot in the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TY8T9iTUxc" target="_blank">Bog of Eternal Stench</a>. I
choose “independent publisher.” These are the authors who approach publishing
their own books in exactly the same way a publisher would approach publishing someone
else’s book. As author Shauna Kelley<a href="http://mmshaunakelley.blogspot.com/2012/07/write-by-wednesday-self-publishing-and.html" target="_blank"> points out in a recent post</a>, you don’t go
from typing “the end” directly to pushing the publish button. I have personally gone through the entire cycle as a professional
publisher of other people's books, from acquisition to final print, through <span style="background-color: white;">marketing and publicity—there
are lots of steps if you want to do it right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Self-publishers” (and you know who you are): you can bring
it to the next level and become independent publishers. Help our community improve
its reputation as one of quality, professionalism, and above all, creativity.
We owe this to ourselves, to each other, and—most of all—to our readers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What are your thoughts on semantics? Is it worth making this
distinction? Is it fair? Maybe we should just stick to judging each book
individually? Leave your thoughts in the comments. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-12756664913722137622012-07-12T17:57:00.001-04:002012-07-12T17:57:42.096-04:00El Libro Que No Puede Esperar"Books are patient objects. . . . That's okay for books--but not for new authors. If people don't read them, they'll never make it to a second book."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/43618619" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe></div>Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-71682669319237617442012-07-07T13:29:00.001-04:002012-07-07T15:09:37.506-04:00Reconsideration<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;">When I posted my “</span><a href="http://ellyzee.blogspot.com/2012/06/open-letter-to-book-bloggers.html" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank">Open Letter to Book Bloggers</a><span style="background-color: white;">” I had no
idea it would make the splash that it did. And for the first couple days it
simply laid dormant, getting the same 30 or so hits I get on most posts. Then
yesterday, I logged into Blogger and notice that my hit count had spiked
precipitously with nearly a thousand hits on the post. By this morning, my hit
count had increased over 10% from the </span><i style="background-color: white;">all-time</i><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white;">total</i><span style="background-color: white;"> of a blog
that’s coming up on its 5</span><sup style="background-color: white;">th</sup><span style="background-color: white;"> anniversary.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I quickly realized the post had gone viral across Twitter
and the blogosphere. At first, it was pretty exciting, kind of like the first
time I made the front page of Etsy back in the day. I enjoyed getting into the
debate and having the conversation I wanted to have. Many commenters indicated
that there are valid points on both sides, and we are facing a dilemma for
which there may be no correct answer. And I agree! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I guess I wasn’t prepared for some of the backlash I
got, such as <a href="http://thereviewlady.wordpress.com/2012/07/06/a-response-to-an-open-letter/" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://heydeadguy.typepad.com/heydeadguy/2012/07/an-open-response-to-an-open-letter.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I wasn’t prepared to see conversations <i>about</i>
me instead of <i>to</i> me happening on Twitter and in blog comments. I wasn’t
prepared to see comments on a public forum that said basically, “lol, I’m never
reviewing <i>her</i>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was tough, and I wondered if I made a mistake. I mean, I am <i>already</i> blacklisted at
sites that don’t review indie published books. But I honestly didn't count on actually making people angry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to take this opportunity to address some of the
points that have come up again and again in the comments and reactions I’ve
received to the letter. There are some definite themes, and rather than repeating
myself by responding on an individual basis, I will cover them here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. <b>The words “duplicitous”
and “condescending.” </b>Okay, I will take my lumps for this one. Those were
really shitty word choices, and for a writer, I was being awfully imprecise and
ignoring the effect of connotation. I regret those words and apologize to those
whom I offended. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I should have said is that I feel like I am being held
to a double-standard by people who are naturally in a position of power. There
are some really beautiful book blogs out there, and there are some really,
really horrible ones—riddled with typos and “creative” grammar choices,
terrible formatting, flashing ads, etc. But I don’t judge <i>all</i> book blogs
based on the bad ones. I judge each one on its merit and policies, and I go
through each one: Do they review my type of book, do they accept indie authors,
do they want print or e-books, how many followers do they have, how
well-written are their posts, have they updated recently, and on and on. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I see a parallel there between what bloggers do and what authors/publishers/publicists
do—trying to judge quality and fit. Yes, it’s time consuming. Do I wish there
was an easier way to narrow down the search? Only sort of, because I am
mistrustful of a selection curated by others; I want to see and judge quality
and fit for myself, and I don’t want to miss any diamonds in the rough. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is, apparently, where I differ from my detractors. We
will have to agree to disagree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. <b>Book bloggers are
not self-publishers because they don’t get paid</b>. I heard this from multiple
parties. Some people treated the label of “self-publisher” like it was some
sort of insult instead of something to be celebrated. That told me right off
that the stigma of self-publishing goes far deeper than I had known. I was
especially dismayed to learn about some of the bad behavior exhibited by some
of my indie peers. This was news to me, and I began to form a better idea of
why self-published authors are so pilloried—beyond the obvious quality issues.
I can’t change that all on my own, but I think we indie authors have a
responsibility to cultivate our community as a much more professional one,
because we have everything to lose if we don’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By calling bloggers “self-publishers,” I wasn’t trying to
bring people “down to my level.” I was trying to show what we have in common. One
blogger said I was making “a whole crapload of assumptions.” I guess I was, but
I thought I was being rather flattering. If you prefer not be considered “entrepreneurial
and multifaceted,” then I take it back. Another blogger called me out on this
with, “I don’t buy this ‘sisterhood,’ thing, sorry.” Fair enough, you don’t
have to. But I think a “we’re all in this together” mentality is much more effective
for everyone than the contentious “power/peon” mentality (see #6). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But to get back to the main point of #2: the people who said
this are wrong. Book bloggers (by and large) <i>are</i> self-publishers, or
independent publishers, or whatever your preferred term. I’m not harping on this
to upset you; I’m saying it because it is correct. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To publish means <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/publish?s=t" target="_blank">to issue reproduced textual or graphicmaterial for distribution to the public</a>. So, you’re a publisher. If you’re not
going through an established publication, not having your work reviewed by an
editor, formatting and posting your own entries, etc. you’re doing it your<i>self</i>.
There are some book blogs that have staffs and run much more like e-magazines,
and the term is admittedly a misnomer for them. However, the issue of money has
nothing to do with whether you can be considered a self-publisher. Which brings
me to this point:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3. <b>Bloggers are not in this for the money; authors are</b>.
Tangential to #2, but different. I got several comments that suggested authors
are in a different boat because we’re trying to get paid, and that bloggers do
it for love. This is sensitive, so I’ll caveat this by saying that I am only
speaking about myself here: I am <i>not</i> doing this for the money. Writing
novels for money is not a good gig. I would have to sell 8 e-books or 2 paperbacks
per hour, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year, just to make <i>minimum
wage</i>. And we don’t get paid to <i>write</i>. We only get paid when people
buy our books; that’s very different. If I got paid minimum wage for the time
it took me to <i>write</i> the book, I might actually not end up in a cardboard
box eating catfood. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I write novels because I love it. But unlike other
endeavors, not only am I not making money, I am losing money. Because I am my
own publisher, the upfront investment was on me. I’m still working back my debt
to myself. I sent 4 spec books to bookstores yesterday, and 2 to reviewers. The
whole shebang cost me over $50 (though I do admit I used the <i>fancy</i> paperclips
for my media kit). Hopefully it’s an investment and not a gamble. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I understand now that many bloggers are receiving far
more books than you could ever hope to review. It’s difficult to see the drops
in the flood. I just want you to know that from the end of individual authors,
we have a lot riding on each and every paperback and ARC we send out. Even
NetGalley costs $399 to join; I could send out 40 paperbacks for that amount. Most
of us don’t go about this willy-nilly because we can’t afford to. So while it seems like you are being indiscriminately strafed by indie authors, that's not the case for a lot of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4. <b>Self-publishing is
a genre, just like fantasy or hard-boiled crime</b>. I heard this again and
again: Bloggers get to choose what they review, and they don’t have to review
what they don’t like. If they don’t want to review science fiction, they have a
right to say so in their policies, and science fiction writers don’t have a
right to rise up against them. One blogger said, “I’ve yet to receive a letter
(open or otherwise) from anyone disappointed in my blanket refusal of their
chosen genre.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I agree that bloggers have every right to review whatever
the hell they want and to reject whatever the hell they want. But to compare
indie-published books to a genre is false logic. You might as well say that you
don’t review books with red covers. Is that taking the argument to its absurd
conclusion? Yes, but here’s the thing: if you know you don’t like science
fiction, it’s easy to figure out fairly quickly that a book is science fiction
and you can skip it. If you don’t like badly edited books (and who does?), it’s
not so easy to tell. I understand that rejecting indie-published books outright
is one way of skipping badly edited books. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But you can’t say you don’t like
indie-published books, period—because that isn’t logical. The only <i>consistently common thread</i> is the lack
of official publisher backing. There are other trends and patterns, yes.
However, not all books fit this imagined mold of having ugly covers and typos
and bloated second acts. I was only asking to be judged by myself and not by my
peers. I do not think that is unreasonable, and I will stand by that assertion
to whatever ends.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5. <b>I’m being
disrespectful of bloggers’ rights to make their own policies</b>. The issue of
respect is extremely sensitive, so here I will try to tread with caution. It
was never my intent to be disrespectful. My intent was to question the status
quo and to propose a reconsideration. The reaction I wanted to elicit was, “Huh,
I never thought about it that way.” I did not expect that so many people’s
reaction would be, essentially, to want to put me back in my place. Several
detractors made it very clear that I was shitting where I eat, and several
promised not to review my work. I question now whether I will receive
retaliatory reviews. I hope not. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The people who were most adamant about me being
disrespectful also treated me with the most disrespect, including accusing me
of trying to cause a stir just so I could get some publicity for my book.
Funnily enough, I was also chastised for not making my contact information
readily available so that bloggers could request my book. So apparently I'm a self-serving button-pusher and also bad at it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me be clear: I fully support a person’s right to read
and review whatever the hell they want. I can’t and don’t want to take that
right away. I have not and will not pitch reviews to bloggers who state that
they do not review self-published or independently published work. I have
pitched guest posts, Q&As, and giveaways to them, but I will likely stop
that as well. I have not written personally to any single blogger to confront
them about their policies. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you have read my letter and done me the respect of
thinking twice about why you have the ban in place, and you still believe it’s
necessary for you, that’s all I can ask. I’ve made my points. Obviously ours is a
relationship that is not meant to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I have said over and over again, I was only asking for this
reconsideration. Some bloggers found
this “insulting.” If you’re insulted by someone asking you to reconsider a
belief, you’re going to be insulted by a lot, including probably everything in
this post. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The unexamined belief is an oppression of the mind and soul. Through this conversation, I have re-examined my own notions and preconceptions, and have adjusted accordingly. I can only ask for the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6. <b>Authors need bloggers, but bloggers do not need
authors.</b> This was the hardest to swallow. The point was stated by several
people in different ways, but the basic assertion was that I was wrong when I
drew this parallel:<span style="background-color: white;"> </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>After all, if all the authors and publishers suddenly said,
“I do not give my book to self-published book reviewers” where would you be?</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;">The people who made these types of comments are probably
right. In fact, I know they’re right. You guys have the power, and we authors
are at your mercy. I pissed people off with my post, and now some of them are
blacklisting me from being reviewed on their sites. And I can’t do anything about
it except hope that I haven’t minimized the pool of potential reviewers to such
a degree that I will never be successful as a novelist.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I need you, but you don’t need me. I live in that shadow
every day. But I never thought that power would be used to say to me, in effect,
“sit down and shut up.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s so much more to say, and many individual points that
are worth addressing, but this sums up the major points. This is a conversation
worth having. I love a respectful, logic-based debate, and I love even more
when I can learn and cultivate more nuanced opinions based on new insights. But
I don’t abide blatant disrespect, unfounded ideological anger, or personal
insults. Please plan accordingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In response to the comments about not leaving my contact
information, here’s a bunch of it:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Personal email: ellyzupko at gmail dot com<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Twitter: @EllyZupko<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/thewarmastersdaughter">www.facebook.com/thewarmastersdaughter</a>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Book website: <a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/">www.warmastersdaughter.com</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Media kit, including author bio: <a href="http://thewarmastersdaughter.blogspot.com/p/media-kit.html">http://thewarmastersdaughter.blogspot.com/p/media-kit.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Free download of The War Master’s Daughter: <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/115259">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/115259</a>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My book on Amazon: <a href="http://amzn.to/LC9zzg">http://amzn.to/LC9zzg</a>
<o:p></o:p></div>Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-53508133476725813742012-07-05T09:54:00.000-04:002012-07-07T14:41:28.445-04:00FREE Summer Read<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LtSPD12Bx-STZ-VIwAwfBkAOuCCQj4Q5c6_YTV_g0iXembjR2l9g_SAOoP3255XMalFSuUldHMnzDVlykr_1yOkF8b2xSh1OMxvL5PiMSIZgbpXPHv1J0y-sieCvoFPHB3fKg3CoHyS2/s1600/summer-reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LtSPD12Bx-STZ-VIwAwfBkAOuCCQj4Q5c6_YTV_g0iXembjR2l9g_SAOoP3255XMalFSuUldHMnzDVlykr_1yOkF8b2xSh1OMxvL5PiMSIZgbpXPHv1J0y-sieCvoFPHB3fKg3CoHyS2/s320/summer-reading.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Need to upload something fresh to your e-reader before vacation?<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>The War Master's Daughter</i> has been included in Smashwords' July Reading Promo. <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/115259" target="_blank">Use code SSWIN at checkout to get the e-book in the format of your choice for FREE</a>.<br />
<br />
If you choose to take advantage of this great offer, please take a moment to leave a review of the book on Amazon or Goodreads. If you really enjoy the book, you can get a signed copy of the paperback to keep for posterity by ordering through <a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/" target="_blank">SMLX Books</a>.<br />
<br />
Happy summer reading!Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152292267046390107.post-46621207615981331142012-07-03T18:51:00.000-04:002012-07-03T18:51:41.798-04:00Paperbacks Available Again!After some time on backorder, paperbacks of The War Master's Daughter are now available for shipment. Orders through <a href="http://www.warmastersdaughter.com/" target="_blank">my publisher</a> come with a signed paperback, bookmark, postcard, "WMD" sticker, and a coupon code to download the eBook in the format of your choice. AND you're supporting independent publishing. What could be better??<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn8GDF0s9iK35whhBJPvs2i-1IHzc7YiuHWUil_5sOv_nIyzbVlgyRNlPf-226hMbTQ26WBrn0yECTtP-SN6W2UwzpxWARVzJTZgNlh6HCEMc2W3z4AIazmSA5V8CzeRkDsP1QJ7h4S85/s1600/photo+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn8GDF0s9iK35whhBJPvs2i-1IHzc7YiuHWUil_5sOv_nIyzbVlgyRNlPf-226hMbTQ26WBrn0yECTtP-SN6W2UwzpxWARVzJTZgNlh6HCEMc2W3z4AIazmSA5V8CzeRkDsP1QJ7h4S85/s400/photo+(5).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"</span></span><span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Rife with philosophical metaphors on the nature of man and humanity, Zupko tackles heavy themes with grace. . . . </span><span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Zupko surprises and engages the reader. She manages what could have been a rather standard and boring storybook ending – “and they all lived happily ever after” – in a way that leaves the reader something to ponder. I genuinely didn’t want the story to end." - Kelly Leard, Red Alien Queen (read the full review <a href="http://alienredqueen.wordpress.com/2012/03/29/the-war-masters-daughter-review-new-fiction/" style="text-decoration: none;">here</a>)</span><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span><br style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">"</span><em style="line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">The War Master’s Daughter </em><span style="line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">is an extremely impressive debut novel</span><span style="line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">. </span>Zupko's book is a fantastic independent offering the intense strengths. . . . A philosophical fairy-tale - a political Rapunzel story - in which the fantastic is replaced by questions of the self and the world." - Rance Denton, The Action Prose (read the full review <a href="http://rddenton.wordpress.com/2012/01/12/review-the-war-masters-daughter-by-elly-zupko/" style="text-decoration: none;">here</a>)</span><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span><br style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">"This is an impressive first novel from Elly Zupko. Within the first 20 pages, I was hooked. The character development is fantastic and left me wishing for more. I mostly read fiction and science fiction, and it is sometimes hard for me to find new authors whose content and plot really hook me. I am pleased to have found a new author to follow." - Brandy Queen </span><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span><br style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">"I like a good story; I like a book that won't let me put it down until I've finished. I purchased <i>The War Master's Daughter</i> yesterday afternoon and only managed to stop reading for work and sleep. With many books I've read lately (and I eat books like candy), the stories are great, but the writing isn't... not so with <i>The War Master's Daughter</i>. Zupko has a talent for beautiful lines and rhythmic phrases that make the book a joy to read. Give it a try--- you'll love the main characters and loathe the villain, you'll race to the end as I did and you'll hope that Zupko writes something else for you to devour soon!" - Candice Hill</span><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span><br style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">"<i>The War Master's Daughter</i> offers something for everyone. It is a hybrid of historical fiction, adventure, romance, and even a bit of mystery, and it held my interest from beginning to end. ...I felt anger, sympathy, frustration, fear, excitement, and most importantly, I felt an overwhelming desire to follow the lives of these characters. I hope there will be a second novel detailing the future of the countries. I would certainly be sure to read it!" - Carrie Hoffman (read the full review <a href="http://www.amazon.com/review/R1XGZ4GLJFJRE4/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B006LG1W8Q&nodeID=&tag=&linkCode=" style="text-decoration: none;">here</a>)</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />Elly Zupkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504321351871068060noreply@blogger.com0