Women, write your own rules

Repeat after me: you don’t have to follow other people’s rules.

According to the world, there are immense list of ‘rules’ for being a woman. We’re all expected to pour time and effort into meeting certain beauty standards so we’re suitably aesthetic for those around us. We’re expected to magically figure out what side of the work/family balance our neighbors expect us to be on, which can change depending on who you talk to at any given moment. Worse, we’re expected to keep that balance effortlessly, without any regard to the fact that we have only so many hours in a day and could really use a little help.

No matter how much we do, how much we give, the ‘rules’ are always asking more of women. We’re expected to be good, kind and gracious at all times, keep clean homes, make sure our kids have enough extracurricular activities, be nice to the neighbors, be involved in our communities and church groups and always stay skinny and so on and so on and so on….

No.

Those are the world’s rules, not yours. And honestly, the world doesn’t know anything about you, and what you have to go through in a given day, and anyone who hasn’t been in your shoes really doesn’t have a right to decide whether you’re doing things “correctly” or not. Some days, the fact that you’re doing anything at all is enough of a reason to stand up and applaud yourself.

You don’t have to live up to anyone else’s standards but your own. You’re the one who’s doing the job of living your life, which means you know better than anyone else what it takes to live it right. The world won’t give anything back to your for jumping through its hoops, so there’s really no reason to kill yourself trying to pull the trick off. No matter how loud they’re shouting at you, there’s nothing that says you have to go where they tell you to.

I’m not saying that there aren’t things we do have to do, both as women and people in general. We all have responsibilities, no matter what gender we are, and fulfilling those responsibilities is what keeps the world moving. Whether it’s going to your job, calling your mom, eating slightly healthier than you did yesterday, or making sure your kids get fed and go to sleep at a reasonable hour, we’ve all got a to-do list that sometimes feels like it’s five miles long.

But don’t let other people put things on the list that you don’t want to have on there. The church potluck will survive without you bringing anything, and if you feel guilty about not contributing something a bag of store-bought salad is just fine. If your kids have to make their own dinner for a few nights, the world won’t end. Neither will your husband, even though he might complain like he will. You don’t always have to be the one who stays and works those extra overtime hours at your job. You don’t have to dress the same way everyone else does.

You get to decide what it means to be a good woman, and the only test that really matters is how you feel about yourself at the end of the day.   

New short story: Vampire Ball

Annabelle covertly adjusted her corset, wondering how it could still be so infuriating even though she technically no longer needed to breathe. She had been promised that, as a vampire, she would be a goddess among mortals, but she was quite certain that no goddess had ever stuffed herself into one of these ridiculous tubes and paraded herself around for strangers.

"I should have let Lionel bite me instead of you," she sniped, sweeping a glare over the dancing crowd before turning it to the tall, elegantly dressed gentleman standing beside her. "I could be out running under the moonlight at this very moment, free and gloriously naked."

Reginald, the gentleman in question, pursed his lips briefly in distaste. "With blood and entrails matting your fur, no doubt."

"I would not care, and the forest is blessedly free of pinch-faced busybodies who would insist on caring in my stead." She yanked the comb out of her hair, letting it spill down around her shoulders as she tossed the offending piece of jewelry into a darkened corner.  "We are creatures of the night, Reggie. I let you turn me to get away from ridiculous games like this. Forgive me if I'm horrified by the thought of being trapped in them for the next 500 years."

He gave a patient sigh at the acid in her tone, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Lionel and his kin spend their time in the forests because biology demands it of them. They hunger for the dumb woodland creatures, the violence of the chase." He sniffed. "Savages."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And which of you has the higher body count?"

"Irrelevant. When we vampires eat, we eat with dignity." He swept a hand out to take in the swirling dancers before them, lips quirking upward. "An entire buffet spread out before us."

Annabelle followed Reginald's gaze, the light slowly dawning. "Ah," she said after a moment, her own lips curving. "I take back everything I said."

He looked amused. "I thought you might."

More important than being “tough”

As far as I can tell, it’s not easy being a guy.

Yeah, I know they have it better in a lot of ways, but they’re really not very good at taking care of themselves. Society tells men that they’re supposed to be tough to the point of being invulnerable, and any hit of weakness or needing help should be avoided at all costs. They’re told never to acknowledge that they’re slower than they used to be, or they have a worrying cough, and heaven help the man who dares to wonder if they might be depressed.

Men, I’m here to tell you that society is straight-up lying to you.

Trust me – society lies to women all the time, so we know what we’re talking about. Living your life in order to satisfy the expectations of the media, complete strangers, or even casual acquaintances, leads to nothing but frustration, disappointment, and potentially a heart attack. None of these people have enough investment in you personally to be worth listening to, and won’t even notice if you are listening to them.

Besides, have any of them given you proof that they know what they’re talking about? The media, for example, thinks that the Kardashians are worth obsessing over, which isn’t the best sign of either their intelligence or their good judgment.

On the other side of the equation, there’s this little thing called science. Science’s opinion on the matter is that men are human beings just like women are, subject to every infirmity, illness and medical condition. Having something wrong with you doesn’t mean you’ve failed; it means that biology is holding all the trump cards. There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from getting sick.

What you can do, however, is focus on getting better again. If your car breaks, do you drive around on it until it collapses or lights on fire somehow? No, you figure out what’s wrong and fix it (or you take it to someone who does). Your body is a lot more valuable than your car, and there are a whole bunch of experts who can help you get it running smoothly again.

Mental health issues are a trickier situation, but in some ways that just makes them more important. Having depression is just the same as having any other illness, including cancer, and if left untreated it can mess up your life just as much. Being depressed doesn’t mean you’re weak – it means the chemicals in your head went out of whack. Talking to a professional, and maybe getting medication if you need it, can absolutely change your life for the better.

I know it can be tough to admit you need help, no matter what the problem is. But the people who love you don’t need you to be Superman, no matter how much you wish you could be that for them. What they need is for you to be there, for birthdays and weddings and graduations and everything else that will happen for the rest of their lives. They need you to be healthy a lot more than they need you to be “tough.”

So go to the doctor for regular checkups. Get some help if you need it. Because it might be scary to admit you can’t do it all on your own, but doing something scary for the people you love is pretty much the definition of being a superhero.

Ask them. They’ll back me up on this. 

Being A Little Nicer To My Future Self

My future self will regret this eventually

My older self is going to be so mad at me.

When you’re young, it feels like there’s so much to worry about now that the future is the last thing on our minds. We have no time even for our lives right now, juggling our education, one, two or even three jobs, and all of our other responsibilities. The future will have to wait until we have a few minutes to spare.

We don’t have time for exercise, or to make ourselves a healthy salad instead of grabbing a too-salty chicken wrap from the local fast-food place. We definitely don’t have time to worry about retirement, especially when many of us are having trouble with month-to-month bills or even just finding a job. We definitely don’t have time to worry about forcing ourselves to drink milk or calcium supplements, especially when getting proper creamer in our coffee is sometimes more than we can manage.

At least, we tell ourselves that. What we don’t admit is that it’s hard to do things for a version of ourselves we can barely fathom, a distant figure that seems light years away. What right does that older you have to stop you from eating that chocolate bar? Will one less slice of pizza really make their life any better than it would have been? Why should we have to turn down our music? Shouldn’t we be enjoying ourselves now, because when we’re old we’ll be in no shape to enjoy any of it anyway?

It’s easy to let ourselves get caught up in thinking that way, to almost resent the idea that we have to take the time to care for a version of ourselves we haven’t even met yet. There’s always time to change, isn’t there?

The thing is, there’s less time than you think.

Getting healthy at the last minute doesn’t erase the years when you’ve been stuffing your body with fat and letting your bones get thin and brittle. It’s like driving a car for years without ever doing any maintenance, letting the brakes wear thin and the oil lines clog up, and then expecting it to run great after a car wash or two.

It takes long-term care to keep your body at its healthiest. True, it will start to break down anyway – even the most well-maintained car runs out eventually – but a healthy body will take longer to lose steam. Slowing down is so much harder on your heart when it already has clogged arteries to deal with. Hearing loss is that much stronger when you’ve been pouring years of loud music into them.

Even though we don’t like to think about it now, we’ll all have to deal with the mess our younger selves leave behind. And when it does happen, we’ll probably wish we could reach back in time and throttle the people we’d been.

I’m sure I will. I know how much of a mess I can make.

So maybe I’ll start worrying about my future self a little more right now, before she shows up and tries to hurt me. I’m not sure how I’ll squeeze in time for that salad, but I can make my own sandwich instead of picking up a hamburger for lunch. I can park my car further away from work, and squeeze in a walk on my lunch break. I can start taking multivitamins, and drink that extra glass of milk even though I don’t really want to.
In the end, my older self will probably still be mad at me. But at least this way, she’ll know I tried. 

Sneak Peek: Exclusive look at “Beast Charming”

My publisher said I could give you guys an excerpt of “Beast Charming”! So here it is – not as long as “Dreamless,” but it should give you a taste of our heroine, Beauty Tremain and the … unusual family circumstances she’s had to deal with.

000

Chapter 1

Of Frying Pans and Fires

Beauty held up the mangled gauntlet, ready to fight. She’d spent most of the afternoon yanking the thing out from between a dragon’s teeth, and said dragon would probably approve of her using it to beat her father’s head in. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Not until you’ve returned to your senses and come back home.” Noble Tremain—whose birth certificate still identified him as Frank—folded his arms across his brocade-covered chest and tried to stare her down. Her father sincerely believed he was an important and powerful man, even though he’d spent most of Beauty’s formative years being kicked out of rich people’s houses. “This ridiculous job is an insult to the family name.”

Beauty shoved her shaggy brown hair out of her eyes with her free hand, glaring at the man who was technically responsible for her existence. She’d told herself only a few months ago that she needed to move again, just in case her father finally tracked her and Grace down, but she was sick of letting the man ruin her life. Besides, she couldn’t leave her sister to face this alone.

“So sedating princesses and sneaking your daughters into secret ballrooms is what, creative parenting?” She gritted her teeth to keep from shouting, furious he’d insisted on doing this where she worked. The only good thing about all this was that he’d caught her before she’d made it inside. “Or how about that time you knocked us unconscious and left us in an ogre’s cave, hoping a questing hero would just happen to rescue us?”

Her father’s brow lowered at the reminder of that last incident. “You could have tried to be a little more in peril with that ogre,” he snapped, his round face tensing up with annoyance.

000

Excerpted from BEAST CHARMING by JENNIFFER WARDELL. Copyright © 2013 by JENNIFFER WARDELL. Excerpted by permission of Jolly Fish Press, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Fairy Tale Material

If you haven't already experienced the genius that is A Softer World, go do so now.

Fairy tales are tricky things.

            

We tell ourselves that they’re just for young people, and that the rest of us have grown up enough to stop believing in them some time ago. But then years later, we dig into our secret hearts and find ourselves hoping that a man will ride in on his white horse and save us. Or we’ll finally find the secret makeover that will let us turn into a beautiful swan and enchant some handsome prince. Because that’s the way happily-ever-after is supposed to go.

            

Personally, I’m not what you’d call fairy-tale material. I’m short, painfully average-looking, not skinny, embarrassingly uncoordinated and only mildly clever. My courage and determination tends to come and go in fits and spurts. If I was very lucky, I might be hired as a Fairy Godmother (and probably fired for insubordination a few weeks later). More likely, I would be Serving Girl #3 during one of the random scenes in a tavern.

            

Because my brain lives to annoy me, I've known all of this for a long time. Even as I devoured stacks and stacks of fairy tale books, I knew my story wasn't in any of them. People like me didn't become heroes, and they certainly didn't become love interests. Brave, beautiful and clever people got those spots, and unless someone gave me a full brain/body transplant I wasn't going to be able to pull that off. Clearly, happily-ever-after wasn't meant for people like me. All I could hope for was a lifetime of scrubbing tables and hoping that a tragic inn fire wasn't going to be a major part of the real heroine’s plot.

          

But… what if there was a story for the rest of us? What if there were a thousand stories? Do gorgeous, talented people really deserve all the fairy tales? Aren't their perfect teeth enough of a consolation?

            

So I wrote. I took all my dreams, hopes, doubts and terrible sense of humor and I spun the kind of fairy tale I wished I could have heard as a teenager. And then I spun another one, because it would be the height of arrogance to think my happily-ever-after would suit someone else. And then another. And another.

You’re not supposed to think this hard about fairy tales. They’re not supposed to mean anything. But fairy tales are tricky things, and they worm their way into your brain and deep down into your soul until you believe them without meaning to. Until you find yourself imagining that office workers, interns, and even Serving Girl #3 deserve their own happily ever after, and they don’t have to make themselves any more beautiful or clever to do it. They’re fine just the way they are, and they’re perfectly capable of saving themselves. 

The Next Big Thing: Beast Charming

Thanks, Wikipedia!

The Next Big Thing: Beast Charming

So, The Next Big Thing has come around to me again! Since “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” has already had its time in this particular sun, I thought I’d give you guys a peek at “Beast Charming,” my book coming out in 2014.

Where did the idea for the book come from?

I love “Beauty and the Beast,” except for one little problem. I wanted it to be about seeing the beauty within people, but most versions I ran across seemed to say that love meant you had to change yourself. Besides, arguing is a lot more fun than listening to songbirds.

What genre does your book fall under?

Like “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.,” “Beast Charming” is humor/fantasy/romance. Technically, the two are even set in the same world.

What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Kat Dennings from “Two Broke Girls” and “Thor” as Beauty (she’s too attractive, but what can you do?) As for Beast … wow. I honestly have no idea (though CGI would need to co-star, I’m sure.)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Beauty finally finds a fairy tale she can believe in, but she has to fight her father, magic, and her own self-doubts to keep it.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

It depends on what you count as the first draft of the manuscript…. Let’s say two years. Of course, I also say I’m 5’6’’ instead of 5’5’’ and a half, so I’m probably not the most scrupulously precise person.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

“Fairy Godmothers, Inc.,” for starters. Beyond that, fans of Terry Pratchett and Patricia Wrede’s “Enchanted Forest Chronicles” will definitely want to give me a try.

What inspired you to write the book?

This is the version of “Beauty and the Beast” I always wanted to read. Since no one else wrote it, I had to.

What else about your book might pique a reader’s interest?

Well, a full summary might help:
http://jollyfishpress.com/press%20release/102412_Beast_Charming_by_Jenniffer_Wardell.html

Thanks and a huge shout-out to the Berk and Andy Washburn, who invited me into this round of “The Next Big Thing.” Check out their blog post about their upcoming book, “Pitch Green!”

http://thebrotherswashburn.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-next-big-thing.html

Spammily Ever After

"Fairy Godmothers, Inc." flash fiction: "Petalphobia"



Thanks, Wikipedia!

One of the defining traits of being a geek is the need to know all the little facts and stories that don’t make it into the movie, novel or comic series. I’m a super geek, which means I can’t stop the need even when it comes to my own novel. So I’m collecting here all the super-short stories (flash fiction, I believe their called) and other little bits that emerged when I wanted to explore more of my world than could successfully fit in a novel. This first bit is a memory from Kate’s childhood, and came of me wondering what it might be like to actually be related to classic fairies.

Petalphobia

Kate was 12 before she met any of her full-blooded fairy relatives. A distant cousin was graduating from flight school, and his parents had apparently invited everyone who might be at all willing to give their son a present. Her own parents, surprisingly, had decided to go.

The obsession they’d all had with plant life was disconcerting, to say the least. The students had worn magically-enlarged helicopter seeds on their heads instead of mortarboards (this was fairy flight school, after all), and everyone had insisted on at least one major piece of floral wardrobe. One woman had an entire skirt made out of petals, making her look like an enormous peony who had gotten lost and wandered into the event.

Later, Kate discovered that this woman was her great-aunt Peony. “What a remarkably … uncolorful child,” she had said, bending over close enough that Kate was choking on the petal skirt. Her parents didn’t seem to notice, so Kate took matters into her own hands and fought her way free. The skirt, which hadn’t been magically protected, ripped as easily as any normal plant life would.

Kate fell backwards, staring up at the now horrified-looking old woman. Her wings hurt, she hadn’t had anything to eat but candied petals for two full hours, and no one was around to yell at her. “Your skirt looks like a goat’s been chewing on it,” she told her great-aunt, not feeling guilty in the slightest.

Thankfully, the more flowered-covered relatives ignored her for the rest of the evening. For the next six months, though, Kate couldn’t help but feel nervous every time she got near a peony.

A Handbook for Supervillains: The Female Villain

So You Want to Rule the World

The Female Villain Persona, or Yes, Even Evil is Sexist

The unpleasant truth of the matter is that the majority of the world’s most well-respected supervillains are male. If you’re a woman and have an overwhelming pull towards villainry, you’re usually expected to be the girlfriend of some more powerful villain or sleep with the hero before betraying him. Sure, you get great outfits, but that’s not going to win you the kind of respect that say, subjugating a small country would.

Even the best villains fall into this trap. Talia may have been the mastermind in the latest “Dark Knight” movie, but who do we all remember? Yes, Bane. He got to make the dramatic proclamations, while she missed several opportunities for solid evil name recognition by pretending to be a good guy. This, my friend, will not get people quaking in their boots at the mention of your name. After all, branding is just important in villainry as it is in selling shoes.

 (Just a note to keep you from offending someone you shouldn't and having them convince you to apologize with a ray gun -- "villain" is still the politically correct job title for women who choose this profession. In fact, the only term still under evaluation from several joint committees on political correctness is "bad guy."

"Bad girl" was briefly considered as a replacement, but several women's rights activists in the supervillain community attending the meetings felt that the term was derisive to women and still segregated them from their peers. Since they had conveniently armed themselves before arriving, the rest of the group tended to agree with their viewpoint quickly. "Bad person" is a current favorite, though a small but vocal writer's coalition is complaining that it just doesn’t sound as catchy.)

So, my sisters in dastardly deeds, don’t let yourself fall into the “girlfriend” trap. Believe me, there will be ways to trick the hero without sleeping with him, and the other villains will respect you for it far more. If nothing else, get one of your female flunkies to sleep with him while you get to do all the dramatic grandstanding and evil rants that are some of the most solid benefits our profession has to offer. Then, when the hero thinks he’s lured your flunkie over to the good side, have her bring him to you so you can stab him. Or stab them both, and prove you’re above this whole seduction nonsense. Just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have fun with it.

Next: No Capes, or Edna Mode Was Right

Keeping it all in the air

Early Egyptian depiction of juggling - Wikipedia

I’m in awe of those people who can do 20 different things at once, whether through meticulous organization or some secret superpower somehow manage to juggle complex work responsibilities with keeping a car and home together. And if they have children … whew. Each kid is a complex juggling act on its own, with new surprises constantly being thrown at your head every five minutes.

For me, I can barely manage just myself. I’m pretty good at getting my stories in on time and making sure the newspaper gets together – as far as I can tell, layout is kind of my version of knitting – and there’s always time to go back and edit unruly novel characters back into some semblance of order. But everything else – keeping my car functioning, making sure I have food in the fridge so I don’t constantly give in to takeout, keep an eye on my seriously depressed and potentially suicidal bank account, making sure I look like a functional member of society – is exhausting. And I know I’ve got maybe four, five balls in the air, tops.

So for those of you doing complex routines with responsibilities that would be twenty balls, four chainsaws, and a matching sofa and loveseat, my hats off to you. If the world was at all fair, you would be hearing constant riotous applause from those of us in awe of your dexterity and determination.

Proving my worth

The kanji for worth (with thanks to about.com)

I forget things.

Sometimes, this is where on earth I just put the cordless phone I was holding five seconds ago. Other times, it’s the fact that, when I was in jr. high, I was so terrified about getting a good grade in a class I already had an A+ in that I seriously tried to steal my mother’s books to get extra credit. It’s survived now as a funny story, but at the time I was so desperate to get an A that the fact I already *had* an A didn’t console me in the slightest.

Looking back from the peaceful vantage point of relative well-adjustment, I can see that I was so desperate to be the smartest because I was absolutely desperate to prove my worth to the people around me. I couldn’t fit in with the other kids, and felt that the fact I didn’t even really want to – I was lonely, but they were stupid – was another flaw in me somehow. But I was smart. I was smarter than any of them. And if I could keep stacking up those As, I could show the world just how wrong they were to dismiss me.

Now, I’m not nearly so desperate anymore. I’ve found people who can see my worth without me having to prove it to them – not many, true, but as many as I need. More importantly, I can see my own worth clearly enough that I don’t doubt it anymore. And I wish more than anything that I could reach back in time and convince my teenage self of that very thing. Maybe even hug her.

She’d deserve it.

No more “If only”

Do it now. Whatever small but terribly important thing you’ve been promising yourself you’ll do the minute you get a few spare minutes – call someone you haven’t spoken to in far too long, tell someone you love them, have that crazy adventure you’ve always dreamed of – go do it right this very second.

I know how busy we all are, scrambling to keep afloat in an economy that seems more determined than ever to pull us under, and that even the most well-meaning heart sometimes can’t do anything but put off the things that matter most. We’ll get to it, we think. As soon as I find a moment I can breathe.

And then something terrible happens, and that moment never comes. You’re the one who gets a call, telling you the last news you wanted to hear, and that item on your to-do list spins forever out of your reach. Someone’s died, or you’ve lost your job, or a fire has eaten up everything you ever owned. You lose your chance, and that item on your to-do list will haunt you no matter how small it was. If only you hadn’t put it off for so long. If only you’d known.

So go do it. If you won’t listen to me, listen to your own mythical future self, who wishes more than anything that you’d done it when you had the chance.

Google, the obsessive boyfriend

I’m starting to think that Google is like that classic overly-controlling boyfriend, the one that starts out knowing exactly what you want and need because he spends hours scrolling through all your Facebook and Twitter posts. He’s always there with exactly what you want, exactly when you need it – the weather for the week, movie times, whether you could find those gorgeous shoes somewhere else for a better price – and you start letting yourself trust him. Letting him do everything for you he wants to until he becomes a huge part of your life. Yahoo Search was a youthful fling, and we all know what a disaster Bing was, but Google … he just seems so perfect.

Then, of course, the trouble starts. First, he starts watching your searches, keeping a record of all the details and saying it’s all for you. He just wants to remember what you like, so he can help you even more than he is now. Then he gets jealous of Facebook – you should be on his social network, the one he made just for you, even if no one else is. You guys talk about shopping so much – why not have him to the shopping for you? He’s got a money account, just like this PayPal thing you always go to. You should be trusting *him* with your account information, not this other guy. It’s not like he doesn’t already have every single other piece of information you own.

Of course, the other option is Bing. So … I’m in trouble.