The Tennessee Waltz

Last Thanksgiving we moved our parents to Jackson, Tennessee, where they can be near my sister and her family. Since then they've lived in three places: a temporary place, an independent-living place, and an assisted-living place just down the hall from place #2.

Looks like they'll have to be moved again, this time to a nursing home.

But getting to them is now much more of a chore than it had been. Now it requires air travel (since trains don't travel east to west in most of the US). Air travel and I don't get along too well, but I'm getting better at it or maybe the planes are.

But arriving in Nashville, which is about 3 hours from my sister, I wondered: where do people meet each other in the airport? To me, it seemed the baggage area was the logical place, but my sister was nowhere to be found. I dragged out my cellphone, which I've used all of maybe 3 times since I got it (I don't understand cells!), and cursed that I hadn't packed the instruction book. Still, I got the phone to say, "Hello?" before a call blanked. So someone somewhere had gotten it. I tried Karen at home and got my brother-in-law, Bruce.

He explained that she'd gotten her times mixed up. Instead of my landing time, she had been operating by my take-off time four days from then. She'd realized her mistake and taken off 1/2 hour before my plane was slated to arrive.

And she made it only an hour late. The cops ALL must have been looking the other way! Perhaps the sonic boom distracted them.

I was starving; I was outside the security area. All there was left was a rinky-dink restaurant. (Tootsie's) I ordered an $8 chunk of iceberg lettuce and some dressing and sat down to wait. Soon a young, lanky guy in cowboy hat and boots saunters up with a guitar, sits down about ten feet from me, and starts tuning up.

There was a stage there. It pointed at the exit from the security area. I now noticed large speakers on the ceiling.

Well, he begins to sing a song about wantin' to be a cowboy so he could get all the purty girls. I'm not sure, but I think he had a nice voice and could play well. The speakers were those that muffle the sound so it becomes kinda wa-wa-wa. I wondered why such speakers were allowed within twenty miles of Nashville, but there they were.

Loud volume and I don't get along, so I didn't finish my lettuce and got out of there. Downstairs, back in the baggage area, I managed to read some more of my Nora Roberts book. I've never been able to get into her stuff before (under any name), but this book was very good. (I've ordered 2 of the sequels.) On the trip back to NC I realized that reading McKee's Story wasn't going to keep my mind off my imminent demise from falling from the sky, so I got another Nora book and man, was it good! Now I understand why she's the queen.

Anyway, we got to my parents' place and discovered that Mom pretty much stays in bed in a semi-trance all day (she has no control over lower digestive functions and has to have the nurses wash and dress her). This drives my dad crazy. She'll get up for meals and therapy, but sometimes not even that much. Dad is confused and angry most of the time. He can't get the remote on the TV to work, and so watches (snoozes in front of) bad TV because he can't figure that hitting the "up" or "down" buttons will let him change channels. Sometimes he hits numbers and gets something new that way, but he doesn't know which channels he gets, so it's hit or miss.

I took Dad shopping/riding and put up some drapes, pictures and a clock for them. I also put up a calendar next to a new white board because Dad used to love keeping track of things, writing down appts, etc. He liked this. Four hours later he hated, hated, HATED it, and how could I have possibly imagined it was a good idea???

These are all symptoms of their different forms of Alzheimer's. Judging from Mom's condition and Dad's inability to do simple tasks like the remote, my sister and I think it may be time to move them to a nursing home. The doctor says that Mom certainly belongs there, but being without Mom would drive Dad crazy, so they should go together.

I took Dad to the Steak & Shake and had one of the best burgers of my life. Yum! He didn't like his tea (too sweet) and tried to get the waitress' attention. "HEY, BLONDIE!" he yelled. Luckily, his yell is just a croak these days (COPD), so she didn't hear, and he got mad when I chastised him for being rude.

We went to my sister's house for dinner one night. Karen and Bruce are trying to sell their house, which is a modest place in a modest neighborhood that looks like it might have been built/last decorated during the Eisenhower administration. They've filled it with big-ass furniture. Lots and lots of big-ass furniture. Which makes it look tiny. This is not helped by having about fifteen people (on average) living and/or passing through the place, along with assorted pets and lots of toys for the grandkids. The front door is blocked because there's furniture in front of it; the dining table touches the patio door.

Somewhere in there is likely a nice starter home, if people don't mind the fact that the toilet chugs like a train starting up, or that the lights keep flickering.

They cannot figure out why it doesn't sell, and blame it on the big military installation in town that's closing. I keep saying, "Stage your house! Don't forget the curb appeal!" (The latter of which can't be seen because there are eleventy cars parked in their drive and on their front lawn.)

Well, we got some visiting done, I met my new niece-in-law, who is valiantly trying to hold that baby in for another two weeks, at which point my nephew's health insurance kicks in, and I made M&D's place slightly more homey, for however long they'll be there.

Let me just mention that the staff at their place are all SAINTS. Utter and complete SAINTS.

Said goodbye to M&D, hopped in the car with Bruce, and he drove me back to Nashville. Two and a half hours early. Oh well, I got my walking in.

Also had lunch at the airport because Bruce wasn't hungry and didn't want to stop elsewhere beforehand. I went to "Tennessee Tavern," which advertised that it has that famous BBQ that they make in Memphis. I hate BBQ and so ordered a cheeseburger and tea.

Oh, so that's where all the pink slime went. The so-called burger ($16) was huge, tasteless, and had no texture to it. I took a sip of the nearly-transparent tea and set it down. "Can I get some real tea?" I asked the waitress.

"That's instant," she whispered, looking at my glass.

"I know."

This place, named after Tennessee, didn't know how to make instant, much less real iced tea. They managed to get me some ginger ale, which helped settle my stomach. (I'd been traveling with the help of Pepto. Great timing, intestines.)

Part of my walking took me past a TN tourism place that was spotlighting Moon Pies as part of the culture. An older/mature woman, dressed to the hilt, stood next to a display and picked up a box. "Moon. Pies," she said wonderingly. She examined it like she was at a museum. Perhaps she thought it came from the moon.

The display didn't mention RC Cola anywhere. What's up with that?

On one leg of the plane trip back, I sat behind a row that included two very young kids (5 YO?) who'd never been on a plane before. "Look how far down!" one shrieked as I clenched my seat's arms, helping the plane stay in the air. They were so excited by every aspect of flying that I tried to remind myself that one of the purposes of coming back during this era was for me to delight in the technological changes. Having 4 flights within days of each other helped me figure out the various motions that a plane goes through that is normal for it and not something to review my religious standing over.

Still, when the little girl squealed, "I see another plane!" all I could think of was: Mid-air collision ahead! Goodbye, world!


But we had a crazy pilot on the final leg, cracking jokes and such. The plane itself was a friendly one. (Always check your plane's attitude before boarding. I once encountered a plane that said, "I feel sick," and sure enough, within five minutes a repair crew had scrambled to begin working on it. We got another plane.) The pilot warned us about approaching turbulence, and I imagined us going down a bumpy road. Not bad. Not bad at all.

But I hope I don't have to make a trip to TN for another year!

The Business of Art

Who in their right mind would schedule a full-day Business of Art seminar on a Monday? Idiots. Maybe I could arrange a day off from work next time they did it, but I was too busy now.

Then I got the email that said that there were still seats available at this Saturday's BoA seminar. Saturday? I double-checked my calendar. Idiot! I signed up.

The Visual Art Exchange of Raleigh, the go-to place for area artists, was the sponsor. They'd recently moved from City Center (I think it's called) to the "warehouse district." Uh oh, downsizing. But when I arrived in the deserted neighborhood (sue me; I figured out a short cut and arrived quite early) I discovered that their place is actually larger than what they had and that their foot traffic has doubled. Within an hour there was no parking to be found and the few homeless people I'd walked by had been replaced by bustling, everyday pedestrians.

The seminar schedule was loaded and policed for time. We covered: What are galleries looking for? How do I work my portfolio? Is there some place that will help me design my website? Where do I find exhibition opportunities? Should I teach? How do I promote myself? and What the heck is Etsy? The schedule thus covered everything a professional artist needed to know, except how to handle a street festival and the like. For that, Jerry's Artarama holds classes by M. Theresa Brown and Steve Filarsky.

I returned home with acres of urls which advertise all kinds of opportunities for shows and galleries seeking new artists, at both state and national levels. This was aided by having a panel on which we had two opposing gallery reps. One's gallery specialized in corporate clients, and we learned how to Google for the kinds of subjects and colors that corporations want in their offices. With them you're matching the furniture and decor, not creating the next Picasso. This busy gallery said they had almost zero walk-in traffic.

The other gallery specialized in regional art and, due to their downtown location near hotels and the convention center, specialized in walk-in traffic, people looking for art done in NC that they could take back home. I'll certainly be checking them out!

The most fascinating part of the day to me was the section on portfolios. I'm anxious to present myself to large galleries. I've been told my work is at gallery level. But I discovered that one has to show consistency in one's work. I need to have a series—done recently—of from 10 to 15 pieces. This way if a customer comes in and likes my style, but doesn't quite like the painting they're looking at, the gallery can take them aside and show them similar paintings that might be just what they're looking for.

This is what you spotlight in your portfolio. But the portfolio has other things in it as well:

• An Artist's Statement
• Your resume, listing lots and lots of recent shows. Uh, I'll have to work on that as well.
• Bio: I have a really snappy bio, invoking how my hometown was the scene for one of the Nineteenth Century's most famous cases of spirit possession. Unfortunately, this seminar said that bios need to be one paragraph.
• Your artwork: the 10-15 paintings talked about above.
• Business card, press clippings, etc.
• Probably a CD with your portfolio on it, to leave at places. (One person later in the day gave a horror story of how, even though she'd left SASEs with her portfolios during a PR effort that had her sending out twelve at once, galleries had kept and lost ten of hers. Better to lose a cheap CD than a $42 portfolio.)

In addition to this portfolio, you need to have:
• A CD of said portfolio, as noted above. This can also have additional folders containing other series you have going as well as a folder called "Sold Work." Word docs should be saved in pdf form.
• An online portfolio containing all of above. This way if you're communicating via email, you can just use the url and people can check your stuff out immediately. Since your resume and/or portfolio pages will have your phone number, I think that making this a private page on your website—not one listed in your menu—would likely be a good idea. Keep the weirdos at bay, and all that.

And of course your portfolio needs to be kept up to date.

Guess I'll have to join the VAE. I've been thinking for years about doing it. Once you've joined, you can have your portfolio critiqued, and gain access to a site that has every worksheet from every seminar they've put on. There are other perks involved as well.

I'd hoped to have the art section of my own website updated by the end of this weekend, but the seminar cut my time available by half. Even so, I have one page finished. I'll announce on Facebook when it's all done. Give a yell if you can't access anything or something looks odd.

The Bladder Games

Recently I both discovered and finished the Hunger Games trilogy, and have been awaiting the movie’s release with excitement. The previews looked great, even while I had no idea that Suzanne Collins had co-written the screenplay.

For the first time I actually asked to leave work early so I could catch the 12:30 PM show today. “K,” my supervisor economically emailed me, so I tried to keep watch of the time this morning. Scarfed down a lunch earlier than normal, then wrote a response to someone and...

It was noon! I ran out, jumped in the car, and cussed at myself for not leaving earlier. It didn’t help that one of the lights out in the middle of nowhere between Hillsborough and Chapel Hill had been mis-programmed so it gave the busy highway a short light and the empty road that crossed it, the long. Or that the idiot in front of me turning left didn’t pull the hell out into the intersection so they might actually turn sometime this century. Come on! Come on!

I squealed into the strip mall with the theater and noted that there was no line. Whew. Trotted over, flashed my pre-paid ticket, and went inside. Hit the bathroom, got a “medium” non-caffeinated drink which looked to be about two liters, and, steeling myself to fight for a seat, went inside the theater.

It wasn’t that bad. I scored a fair/meh seat. It was on the side and not at a good vertical angle, but this theater is not a particularly good one. Good enough.

They hadn’t started the previews yet. After a while, when the “Movie trivia” slides had started repeating, someone two rows in front of me started grumbling that it was past 12:30. “Start already!”

The murmuring of the crowd increased. A guy down the row from me became louder. When someone commented, he said, "What do you expect? They gave me a barrel of Coke to drink! I'm caffeinated!" and pointed to his empty two-liter cup. Everyone laughed. Finally a lady from the staff came in and said they were having problems with the projector. It would just be another five minutes.

I’d only taken two sips of my drink, but thanked my lucky stars for the wait because I had to hit the bathroom again. In the lobby I heard the lady tell another staffer, “We need to talk to the company now!”

I relayed this to my rowmates when I returned, telling them that I didn’t think “five minutes” was going to hold true. We waited some more. And some more.

The Coke guy got up and went out into the lobby. When he returned he said that he’d spoken to the ticket taker and she said that the projectionist had quit the previous night.

About that time a slide came on the screen saying, “Job opportunities. Apply at the front lobby.” A few people commented about that.

Well, more people went out to the lobby. I hit the bathroom YET AGAIN. (I hadn’t drunk much this morning, really!) We all compared notes:

Apparently the projectionist had indeed quit the previous night. Also apparently the only thing one has to do to run a digital “projector” is to hit a button. That is, after one has keyed in a code to unlock everything.

They had a code and it wasn’t working. No one at “the company” was able to find the correct code. But they’d get it, they promised. They were going to skip all the previews so we’d still get out at about the right time.

So we sat. I got up to stretch and noticed that all the seats behind me were empty. The lobby was filled with people getting free passes, some of whom were strolling toward another theater. We had been in Theater #1. Theater #4 was scheduled to start the movie at 1. They had just now finally gotten the previews to begin. Everyone was crossing their fingers in hopes that the movie would be able to be shown, but they couldn’t guarantee it.

Of course that theater would be filled by now. It was a teacher’s work day and there were lots of kids available to go to the movies. But (after a bathroom break) (I know! I know!) I ambled into the theatre to see if I’d be able to find a seat.

Not only found a seat, but a very good one. This was much better than Theater #1.

Saw a couple previews, the last of which was for the final Twilight movie. Are they still making those? It was clear that the audience did not approve of things Twilight, and I had to laugh.

Then the screen reminded us of its parent corporation and without missing a beat, went into Hunger Games. Hooray!

Wow! What a great movie! Except that about thirty minutes in, my bladder berated me for those few sips of fruit punch. The tension just added to the excitement, right? And after it was all over, I raced into the ladies’ room and—do you recall the Tom Hanks peeing scene from A League of Their Own? I expected Rosie O’Donnell to congratulate me after I was through. Whew!

(And now that I'm home, my bladder is operating quite normally, thank you.)

I want to see the movie again, this time in a primo theater when I can relax and enjoy the details. I think they missed firing the cannon a few times there, that kind of thing. WRAL had a feature about the filming in which they said that Katniss ran across a waterfall near Brevard and had to be on some kind of rope device to pull it off. I don’t remember that from the movie.

The forest scenery looked like what I see from my house, except for the mountains and waterfalls. Every time Katniss fell or rolled down a slope I gritted my teeth. “Ticks!” I thought.

You should see the movie. It's a two-Kleenexer. You might be able to get through the goodbyes at the beginning, but when you-know-who dies, you're going to need tissues. And I think they cut out some of the epilogue. I'd check, but I've loaned my copy to someone. Guess they want movie #2 to really concentrate on the setup of their world and the beginnings of rebellion. (Though they began that here.)

Kids far too young to see the movie were in attendance en masse. One older kid sat behind me. "Kill him! Kill him!" he hissed audibly as Katniss battled a female opponent.


Hey, I found a quote I want to include: Jennifer (Katniss) (Did you know that “katniss” is the common name for the plant sagittaria, which is named after Sagittarius, who is the Archer? Cool!) Lawrence described the HG trilogy as holding up "a terrible kind of mirror: This is what our society could be like if we became desensitized to trauma and to each other's pain."

Exactly. I despise the desensitization we’re being exposed to these days. What do you think about that? Do you have another idea about what HG is?

Here's a great review by one of my favorite reviewers. And this one has some excellent points to make.

I also want to point out to those nay-sayers who preach that a female protagonist cannot helm a successful action movie: nyahh!

When Will I Ever Learn?

Over the decades I've had a LOT of work done around my two houses (owned one at a time) and in their yards. Boy, can I tell you stories about the loser contractors—and even THIEF contractors—I've hired!

As a matter of fact, I've got a novel kinda started that incorporates a few of the more colorful stories. Someday I'll get serious about writing it. (Since it's a contemporary romance instead of sf/f, it will have to wait a bit.)

Last year was, I thought, my tenth here in this second house. Turns out it was more like the eleventh or twelfth. Either way, time to get some serious work done. You know, fix the place up, start on some of those dream projects.

Last Nov.-Dec. I had work done on the interior front third of the house. Well, third more or less. I had the awful excuse for wallboard stripped, new wallboard put on, crown molding and baseboard trim. I straightened out an angle in the living room where a entertainment center had been built into the original house. This also repaired the giant hole left there by the old-style TV that had to go.

Some of you may have heard the story about the carpenter who took forever to get the job done. One day he decided to get to a part of the job that he'd told me wasn't going to be attended to for another week and a half. (Else I would have cleared things off before he got there.) When I returned home, half my Wonder Woman figurines and the shelves they'd been on were on the floor. A couple of porcelain pieces lay there, shattered.

No note. No phone message. No attempt to clean it up. I called him and **I** was the one who had to broach the subject, because he acted like nothing was wrong. Then first he blamed the shelf that he had neglected to check, even though he'd been pounding on the other side of the wall it was mounted on. Then he blamed me. A few days later he finally said, "Sorry."

Needless to say, he bought replacements.

But before he'd started the job I'd insisted he draw up a contract stating precisely what we'd agreed to and how much it would cost. (I should have included a finish date.) So I felt good about hiring him, and will never, ever hire him again.

The painters who finished up came with a very professional contract as well as work ethic. When they broke my porcelain faux-French phone, the one guy immediately came to me and apologized profusely. They deducted the cost from the final bill. Lovely.

So three weeks ago I call up a landscape place who's done minor work for me before. I had a number of projects I needed done, and one was to take down the giant mural/backboard I'd had built on the property. Carpenter bees had taken it over, a huge buck had gotten caught in the netting, and basically, it was rotting away, no matter how many times I had a waterproofer come out and work on it. (Picture of it in post-buck days at top of column.)

I led them around the yard, pointing out the more minor stuff. "Uh huh, uh huh," the boss guy said. He was really interested in how many cement blocks had to be moved from this one patch I wanted cleared.

Okay, I finished showing the work. He huddled with his assistant for about fifteen minutes and came back with a price.

"Fine," I said. "Please give me a contract listing all this and how you're pricing it."

"Oh, we don't need a contract," he laughed.

"I watch People's Court all the time. Judge Milian says always get a contract for any job that's a lot of money. This is a lot of money to me."

He laughed some more, assured me that the price was for the whole thing and not piecemeal, and that they had all the details. They could get it done that week. Wait. They were working on another job. Would I mind if they worked on it that Saturday? Sure. Reluctantly, I let them go away with no contract in sight.

So today, three weeks later and not a Saturday, they came by. And missed a number of jobs. Did one absolutely wrong; I'd showed them three times and explained how the last guy had done it wrong, and they did it the exact same way.

It's frustrating to the max. You'd think I'd know by now. Well, I do, and I share it so you will know as well:

FROM NOW ON, NO WORK WILL BE DONE WITHOUT A DETAILED CONTRACT BEFOREHAND!

So if you hear me bitching about something else that I didn't get a contract for first, yell at me or hit me on the haid. Please.

It's a Contest!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Applesauce and Moonbeams

by Carol A. Strickland

Giveaway ends March 16, 2012.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Yoiks, and Away!

I've taken a day off so I can try to finish my wip (work in progress). So of course I'm procrastinating. After I finish checking Facebook and all the news sites, then Facebook again and maybe they've updated the news... I can sit here and stare beyond my computer, to the strip of cork and thumbtacked material that runs around my home office.

Behind the computer I have posted the Best of the Best writing advice I've latched onto over the years. Okay, it's just the Best of the Best that I remembered to write down or print out. Most, but not all, concerns writing. So here are some bits of wisdom for your perusal:

(From Elements of Fiction Writing: Scene & Structure, by Jack M. Bickham.) The elements of a scene: Goal, Conflict, Disaster. The elements of a sequel: Reaction (emotion), Dilemma (thought), Decision, in that order.

A long, color-coded listing of how to mark up one's manuscript using the EDITS system. This is from Margie Lawson. She teaches this intense system on how to check your manuscript, and it's pretty darned eye-opening. There's a workshop on it alone, but I ran into it when I took her "Empowering Characters' Emotions" workshop.

A sheet of paper that says:
CHARACTER
CHARACTER
CHARACTER
I'm a plotter at heart and it took me a LONG time to get it through my head that character is the heart of a great book, not plot.

How do they FEEL about that?
Emotion is key to showing character. Otherwise you end up with "characters" like Wonder Woman [see blog below], who have no emotional reaction to anything. They are cardboard cutouts.

What's the story about?
After you finish your first draft, sit back and ask yourself: what's the story really about? Sure, these folks go to the moon and shoot the alien zombie invaders, but isn't it really a story about the importance of family? How can I emphasize that? Which leads to...

As with so many things, YOU HAVE TO EXAGGERATE.
This is not real life; this is drama. In drama there's a purpose to everything. There's a theme. Bring it out. Make your characters and their situation high contrast so that it imprints on your readers' minds and embues the book's theme with more meaning and vitality.

A long quote from Jennifer Crusie, one of my favorite authors:
"It's not that they're [hero and heroine in a romance novel] opposites and hate each other, it's that they're different enough to challenge each other's world views, and because of that, their attraction to each other becomes a demonstration of their characters. Or to put it another way: interesting characters like people who challenge them and make them grow, not people who reinforce them as they are and help them stagnate.

"But even more important is the other half of the key to this dynamic: the opposite character traits give the romance crackle, but they're only skin deep. When you reach the bones of the characters—the stuff that keeps them upright and moving through the story—you find that the lovers are actually two of a kind.

"Your lovers spark because they're opposites on the surface, but they love because they're twin souls at heart. Peel back the surface and find where they connect, and your reader will believe your romance really is forever."

Let's see... Here's a chart from the Plot Doctor, aka Carolyn Greene, who might still teach her method here and there, but I can't find her on the Web.

This is a note from Virginia Kantra, who should know a little something about writing:
"...I have a little mantra:
"If she can think it, she can say it.
"It's better if she says it to the hero.
"It's best if they fight about it."

WHY SHOULD I CARE?
What is it about this situation/character that draws me in? Your primary goal in writing is to get your reader deeply within your story and keep them there. If they care about what's going on, they'll remain.

STORY
is more important than
PROCESS
Oh, how I love showing process! Such a bad habit.

An IDEA
+
EMOTION
=
something readers can relate to
It's all about keeping them in the story.

And some words of general wisdom and encouragement:

From Calvin Coolidge:
"Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.

"Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent."

From Marianne Williamson:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Whew. I feel like going back to writing now. But first I want to know:

What's on your wall? What do you keep around yourself to keep you on track and motivate you?

The Illusory Wonder Woman

(i.e., Spangles Don’t Make the Wonder)

In recent years DC’s sales continued to fall and according to many articles I read, the Time-Warner people gave them an ultimatum: improve sales or else. So Dan DiDio and his buddies came up with yet another new, company-wide PR event: the New 52. (Referring to how many titles they were coming out with, and trying to play off the company-wide “52” event of a few years back.) This began in September of 2011.

“Not a reboot!” they kept telling us. “This is a relaunch!” Well, it is indeed a reboot of many titles, but some titles aren’t being affected. Someone called it the “Nottaboot,” which is as good a name as any.

What I’m concerned with, of course, is the fate of Wonder Woman. Volume 3 of Wonder Woman was an unheralded new era for WW, like post-Crisis was different from the Bronze Age, etc. After an exciting and promising re-start, the Gail Simone run within it had plunged downhill badly.

I managed to coordinate a “bring back the original numbering” campaign that actually succeeded—but didn’t succeed in getting Dan DiDio to give our favorite Amazon any respect. Instead, as the book reverted to original numbering with #600’s monumental issue, the end of the book also sent Diana off into the much-anticipated “Odyssey” storyline, to be written by none other than J. Michael Straczynski.

Ever since, I’ve been trying to find Wonder Woman, but she’s completely disappeared.



JMS also took over Superman and sent him on his Stroll Around the US storyline, something that was derided by a majority of reviewers, at least that I saw. However, the sales figures for JMS’ Superman: Earth One were coming in, and it was decided that he needed to create a $equel.

Thus JMS abruptly dropped both Superman and Wonder Woman—which actually turned out for the best in Wondie’s case, as the brightness of the dialogue noticeably improved under the pen of Phil Hester.

The “Odyssey” story was some kind of parallel universe/imaginary story/setup for a new mythos kind of thing in which Something Had Changed Diana’s Timeline and now Diana was shown to be a spoiled, reckless princess of the Amazons, only now brought up (albeit in isolation) in the modern world. Of course this made her completely relatable to modern audience, something she had never been before.

Oh dear, is my sarcasm showing?

The story was “only” supposed to last 12 issues, but as the New 52 approached (as they must have known from the start that it would), it was stretched to 14. An interminable story became sheer agony. Once again Diana acted without thinking. Once again, the Amazons around her were slaughtered because of her actions. Once again we saw how self-centered she was, even as her friends died around her. But even the gods bowed before her, announcing that she was their messiah who would set things right. We were told that the “other,” previous version of Wonder Woman was completely inferior to this one, all hail the new.

And that was the reason they had created her: to be relatable, to be better. She was neither. Whenever TPTB say that WW needs to be relatable, I get the distinct impression that they mean she needs to grow a penis. It can be a blue penis, a mutant penis, a fishy penis, a metal penis—just so it’s there.

Well, at least they got a lot of publicity because this version had the audacity to wear pants.

But as Wonder Woman fans all know, even the worst of stories has to end sometime. New 52 came upon us and without internal explanation, many of the characters of the DCU were rebooted or at least significantly changed.

DC promised that this time she’d REALLY be relatable. No, really and truly. With sugar on it. And they were going to go back to her roots, the essence of what made Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman.

Admitting that he didn’t do much research on Wondie, the new writer, Brian Azzarello, declared that the essence of Wonder Woman was mythology because of its richness of source. Now, granted that mythology IS a rich source of creative material, it is not the essence of Wonder Woman.

She is Empowerment. More exactly: Positive Empowerment. Because of her, the world and its people are made better.

Azz also declared that WW would now be a horror book. The DCnU carries a substantial amount of horror in its line. DC as a company has been getting darker and darker since... well, noticeably since DiDio came on board. Now it seems DC wants to be the new EC Comics (and has forgotten the fallout from that).

Besides, Wonder Woman is not a horror character.

She may flirt with horror stories on occasion, but she does not stall out in that genre, preferring to surface in more hopeful and enlightening climes for the majority of her adventures.

Wonder Woman is a star because her readers love her and are inspired by her, not because she’s more badass than the badasses around her.

So far we’ve seen four issues of this new “Wonder Woman,” and have yet to catch any kind of clear (positive) glimpse as to who she might be. She doesn’t seem to be that important to the ambiance or story. She is a skilled fighter who works with ancient weapons (like Hawkman or Xena), and we’ve had one scene in which she’s demonstrated super-breath (like Superman).

But mostly we’ve seen her like Xena, Warrior Princess, with an unsmiling version of Marvel’s Hercules thrown in. That’s why I have to call this character


She is certainly not Wonder Woman.

I have nothing against Xena, but I never cared for her. Her stories never required much thought to watch. In fact the less you thought, the better they probably were. And the costume design of the show was strictly from hunger. (Even though Xena stole her outfit from Diana via a leather tailor.)

The new book is also oddly angled. First, the gods all walk around like normal folks (like they did on Xena and the TV version of Hercules). The DCU already has plenty of gods, but they wear spandex and capes. To not differentiate between gods and capes to me is a serious misstep. In a world where capes are the everyday, gods should be special.

The men gods are all clothed. The women gods are not so much. There has been an effort made to modernize and badass-erize the gods, except for Hera, who is kept in the misogynistic Second Millennium BCE. She longs for love and whines when, again and again, she is betrayed by her husband. Childlike, she lashes at those whom she perceives as sinning against her—except the true villain.

This from the goddess of marriage. Heck, she’s the goddess of women, and women are an important part of the Wondie mythos. If we care to research a bit, Hera was one of the original Earth Goddesses, usurped when non-Goddess-worshippers invaded the area and took over by having their head god honcho wed the local head honchess god, and keep her “in her place.”

Is this kind of depiction really what an edgy, 21st Century DC Comics wants to utilize? Why modernize all the gods EXCEPT Hera?

Apollo (clothed), the god of the sun itself, is a being of darkness. (???) He creates oracles out of three innocent women and then murders them when they’ve done the temporary job he wanted, even though they never sinned against him. Wha?

Hermes (clothed) is in his old position as Jokester Friend to the Amazons/Mankind.

Strife (slightly dressed in teasing strips of cloth; given a rather androgynous look) is an evil, conniving bitch. Good for her.

Hera we’ve already discussed, but she’s naked under a loose cloak of feathers, which hangs open on her. She’s already had one extended “I’m changing my clothing” scene that teases us with nudity and has her winding up in some kind of harem outfit. (Some of the Amazons also like the harem look.)

Zeus is presented naked, but he’s in the act of seduction.

Ares is an old geezer, being set up for further use. He wears clothes.

That’s an awful lot of gods for the book. Was it intended be be called The Olympians (with “Wonder Woman”)? The Percy Jackson fans might be interested in that.

We have the “innocent civilian” introduced who is Zola. For a long time she runs around in just a tank top, open shirt, and seamless panties. Apparently she is a “modern woman,” you know, “sexually liberated,” out for quick sexual thrills, who can’t even recall that she slept with Zeus.

Zeus, king of the gods. Whose stories of conquest were always memorable. Whom Hippolyta describes dazzlingly as “more than a man... a god... THE god.” But Zola can’t pick him out of a crowd of lovers.

When told by Hermes that she is pregnant, Zola says, “Oh, sh--“ That seems to be her only reaction. She, a “free spirit,” is not seen wondering how this will affect her life, if she will keep the baby, if she will raise it, how she will raise it, or even if she can get a home pregnancy kit to find out if any of this is actually true. Wouldn’t one think she was on some kind of birth control to lead the life she loved, or is she just stupid? Or is she just a cardboard character, not thinking in any way like a woman would?

Also, this is another instance of the lack of positive emotion in the book. Sex is sex, with no real relationship or commitment desired except by the old-fashioned ball-and-chain, Hera. It seems a very macho mindset.

Can we get to Diana? We are introduced to her as she sleeps. Naked, of course. Not only naked, but with the sheets drawn up to her hips so we not only have a good look at her her shoulders and back but her legs as well. She also gets an extensive “getting dressed” scene.

Y’know, I didn’t notice any preponderance of “getting dressed” scenes in any of the comics concerning male heroes that I read.

Once we get through the gore of Hera butchering a horse to create two centaurs (not one of the classical techniques to make centaurs. Guess those weren’t bloody enough), Diana arrives on scene to head-butt the one and slice the other’s arm off with her sword. Though she has the lasso at her side, she doesn’t use it—even though lassos and horses go so naturally together.

When we arrive on Paradise Island, we discover that Diana has led a loser’s life there, where no one liked her except her mother and perhaps Dessa (a renamed Philippus?). She’d been mocked as “Clay” as a child because of her clay origin.

Of course the Amazons as a group are quite detestable. They complain about the “putrid musk” of males and necessity of castration, as well as voice their disapproval of all things Diana.

We get a nice action sequence as Diana takes on the loudest of her detractors. The scene doesn’t require any emotion from Diana, which is a good thing since she seems incapable of feeling anything besides despair over being such a loser.

Empowerment. Remember that.

After a (yawn) massacre of Amazons by Strife, Diana and her group return to the outer world, where they visit a club. Zola has now found some short-shorts to add to her outfit, and tells Hermes that Diana’s having a great time, sharing in her community.



Look at that expression of bliss! Diana says, “It did feel liberating to get lost for a while.” Such deep emotion!

To cover such a feminine admission, Diana grinds a broken wine glass into Strife’s hand. (And it hurts the goddess. No, really.)

So Diana is delegated the “I don’t belong” loser role. Joy.

Let’s see. We also get a completely new origin story for Diana, something the creators gloated about. Clueless. Anyway, we see that Hippolyta met up with Zeus, knowing that he was husband to her goddess and to be with him would be the ultimate betrayal (who cares? Immediate gratification is the only goal in the modern world), and is swept off her feet by him as they fight each other. (How macho.) We get 12 panels of Diana’s conception just for shock value. (Perhaps it’s to offset the cliché of the situation. Bad enough when they linked Zeus to Cassie.)

Of course, “real” heroes like Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, and Flash don’t need such extensive conception scenes. (Probably because their creators would like us to forget that they had mothers.) But Wonder Woman does.

It is interesting that when the nu DC couldn’t make Wonder Woman a man, they then inserted a giant, lightning-spewing mythic penis into her origin. “Oh, but everyone has a father,” I’ve heard the argument given. Yet I can think of several male comics characters who don’t have mothers. And none of them has ever been called an icon.

Wonder Woman was an Amazon because that was one of the extremely few venues from which an emancipated female could have emerged in the 1940s and been respected immediately for herself. The addition of the Galatea-like birth elevated Diana’s standing. She was one of very few female characters in comics, made to be a dominant hero. Now she cast off all male chains, both genetic and cultural, to stand up as a symbol of the Possibilities of Womankind. She didn’t have to fight through male prejudice and conditioning to get where she was; she arrived on scene as Uncompromised Woman.

From there she had to deal with a male-centric world, and that was intriguing in itself.

DC says, “Oh, but she should have a father. Everyone has a father.” DC, a reminder: you are creating MYTHS here. Modern-day legends on interstellar scales. A woman without a father falls right into that definition. Don’t make your leading lady ordinary by giving her a father.

Isn’t it already demeaning that you’ve taken away her princess-ly glamour and her pride and accomplishment of being Amazon Champion? Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve stripped the ingrained love from her life, the love that used to shine from her attitude as she helped the world?

Once again, we come back to how false love is, how women look for it to find it’s really a lie. When Hera confronts Hippolyta, for some ungoddessly reason Hera’s convinced that Zeus loves Hippy, which is why she cannot forgive, no matter how abjectly Hippolyta apologizes. (As if. I mean. And Hippy should know that EVERY TIME a god lay with a female, a child resulted. EVERY TIME. My college myth teacher knew that, so Hippy should as well. And Hippy shouldn’t be stupid.)

But I get the impression that women are just a tad dumber than the men in this book, except for Strife, who’s very mannish anyway.

Speaking of familial love, we discover that adopted kids aren’t as loved as blood-related kids. That’s what Diana has believed her entire life. What kind of relationship must she have had with her mother to make her think this?

Gore. Depression. Anti-love. Ain’t those just the best Wonder themes?

Wait, Diana’s over in Justice League, in a story that happens 5 years before the stories the rest of the DCU are experiencing. In this we learn from comments about Diana:

“Just don’t provoke her.” She slit an armed kidnapper’s throat in front of the kids he was holding. She was raised to fight. “She’s skewering people!” “She swings that sword with a smile.” “Diana’s always looking for a fight!”

Diana says that fighting the darkness of the Outer World is what she’s here for. She also relates that all her life she was treated like a child. She’s done with people telling her what to do.

Within the pages of WW in her new outfit—which was supposed to have pants until fans got that plan revoked, at least for a while—Diana comes across as barrel-chested, thunder-thighed, and tiny-headed. Like the others in her book, her limbs are stretched to uncomfortable lengths. Her costume no longer contains the vibrant gold elements, and she wears (in JLA) a silly headband instead of tiara, plus a goofy neckband like you’d see on someone dressed up as a prostitute at Halloween. She carries a sword, but in none of the books I’ve seen so far (and I’m waiting until they go down in price to buy the latest ones), does she carry a scabbard. In one story she didn’t have a way to sheath the sword and so had to use it as an extended hand in dealing with a child.

Classy.

Again and again I get the impression in this book that in order to be strong, a woman has to surrender her femininity. In order to be strong, a woman has to go all the way over: past masculinity to machismo.

I remember a Wonder Woman whose feminine aspects made her memorable. Who gloried in being a woman, and who was able to balance her yin and yang aspects while respecting both sides of herself.

Here’s a piece of wisdom I picked up from a number of writing workshops about what to remember when creating characters and situations. I keep it posted front and center on my office wall:



All in all, there are no characters in this book to care about or like, unless one looks at the uber-sarcastic version of Hermes. Gore and self-loathing drip from each page. Why should I care about any of 'em?

Just because a woman wears some spangles doesn't mean she's Wonder Woman.

DC has done the unimaginable: they have stripped Wonder Woman completely of her self-respect.

It will take a LOT to save this mess. Probably the easiest fix is to reboot—which DC will likely be doing within five years.

In the meantime, I’ll still be searching for Wonder Woman.

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Before I go, let me point out that I’ve just reissued my first book, a superhero romance, Touch of Danger. It’s available for free from Smashwords in all e-formats, and is 99¢ from Amazon until they figure out that Smashwords is giving it away, in which case it’ll probably be free. As soon as I get to check my sample copy, you’ll be able to buy the print version from Amazon (and other places) for a little over $10.00. Check my website for a contest concerning reviews!