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#ScribesAndMakers 2025.07.01 — What do you want to work on this month? Alt: Bread?

Baking bread—instead of trying meet the guests, schmooze, and network at an SF convention as a shy published author trying to recreate their career—would be a lot less scary and far more pleasant, despite being on a low carb diet. Oh my, am I craving carbs right now. Ice cream, please.

I've made a badge extender that states what I am and that I'm shy. I am reading one of the guests of honor's book (M.A. Carrick). I've researched the others. This weekend is all I can think of for this month.

Will I survive peer interaction?

If you never hear from me again after this weekend, you'll know what happened!

Meanwhile, if you have ideas for conversing with authors or a comics artist, or just anyone, a suggestion or two might help me survive.

🍞🥖🥐😥

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2025.06.30 — When is a piece of writing done?

Composition? When the story is over. Pretty clear cut. If you mean when is it ready to be published? Well that's as clearly demarcated as when the last wisp of morning fog has lifted on a bright morning. Today, almost two years after publication, I found a typo when rereading. I considered fixing it… then sighed.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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Cherry Season is here! Three bags of perfect firm dark cherries, pitted. One 750ML bottle of Uncle Nearest 1856 Tennessee Whiskey (100 Proof), slightly diluted Sage Honey + sugar + water, and 5½ clean liter mason bottles. Alcohol preserves the fruit so it doesn't need heat treatment; just fill and cover, but don't dilute the alcohol too much. After two to three months marinating, ready to taste. Longer is fine. Makes a fine cherry cordial! Spoon on ice cream.

Vodka, Gin, or other high proof liquor will do. Hemingway would love this!

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#ScribesAndMakers 2025.06.23 — Do you like to look at the creative projects of others as much as you like doing your own?

Whilst I am primarily an SF author, the thrust of this question feels physical art related. When it comes to photography, I very much like viewing other's creative projects more than doing (that is, capturing, post processing, viewing) my own. For me, photography is ephemeral and opportunistic. I rarely decide ahead of time what I'll capture, and as a result what I produce is often eclectic and not necessarily my personal art subject preference. I like some of my work very much, but when you view other's creative projects you are seeing their best and only that, and you can focus on what draws attention. I recently visited the photography exhibition at the San Diego faire, and what's on display is amazing. I'm even buying some of the photos. It quite easy to get bored with just my best.

(That said, I do like rereading my own stories a lot. I must like my style and sense of humor a lot…)

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2025.06.23 — Conversely, what’s the worst piece of writing advice you’ve ever encountered?

"Write in 3rd person; it sells. Do not write in 1st person." —R.S.'s agent and conventional publishers.

While there are many reasons I burnt out as an SF writer, my difficulty writing 3rd person close POV (a la C.J. Cherryh) was a major contributing factor to problems in my manuscripts. 1st person past tense and 3rd person past tense close POV are essentially the same POV. 1st is the character narrating. 3rd is a narrator standing in for the character, but is completely tied to the senses of the character and must not let any information beyond what the character would sense or think leak in. Yes, 3rd can present a more neutral narrator who lacks the nuances of dialect or opinion—so there is a dichotomy between narration and dialogue—but this has always felt synthetic to me. 1st person is how we all tell personal stories of our lives; it feels more real.

In any case, it is easy to diagnose POV slips in 1st person. Moreover, since we are all familiar with telling stories of our adventures, it is easy to write, including letting the character have an opinion, spin situations, obviously censor difficult situations, and stretch the truth to be caught fibbing by events.

Once I set myself free to write 1st, most of my writing issues disappeared.

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#ScribesAndMakers 2025.06.20 — What fictional character do you most closely identify with and why?

One time, long ago, it was Kimba from Kimba the White Lion. The character showed a level of integrity and courage I never saw in real life. I would have liked to have had a woman character to have identified with…

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Continued thread

#PennedPossibilities 704 2/2— Share a scene or two with us that you’re proud of writing. CW: 900 word except.

...Continued.

"Was told I'd never walk, let alone fight, again—but didn't accept that. My foot is numb." I reached into my messenger bag and flicked open my jackknife, poked the sole where I was once ticklish. I didn't flinch, though a drop of blood welled. "I could step on a nail and not know it if I didn't wear protection. I could break a toe and not know it.

"I drag a foot sometimes, when I don't keep up my therapy. I understand the word handicapped."

She stared at the brass and steel brace before I levitated it and the shoe back on, something her handicap would prevent her from doing. Her nose pulsed as she breathed hard, but she said nothing. Added nothing. She silently seethed, cooled down, then nodded. I had a brace. She had developed brute strength.

Into the silence, I asked, "Is there anything about yourself that will prevent you from captaining this ship?"

The delay was perceptible, but I judged to some extent she had choked up. "No, Ma'am."

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"No, Ma'am."

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 704 1/2— Share a scene or two with us that you’re proud of writing. CW: 900 word excerpt.

In this except, the devil-girl has just finished describing how she took out a crime boss. She is speaking to the woman who commands the frigate she needs to save the city, but she's discovered the position she was given lacks military authority, and those with the authority are writing her off her as a worrywart teenager. The skipper doesn't know this and sees Rainy Days second in command. What you might consider magic exists here (Clarke's Law), thus a rower is a person who powers an airship. The woman is disfigured in a shocking way.

The skipper's mild grin widened into a half-smile. "You're a woman of action. I'm not sure I can be of service, but here I am. I docked this museum piece without parts or people falling off, all departments put to bed—literally put to bed in the case of all three of our rowers—none of the kids I'm babysitting have killed themselves or their fellows in the two watches it took to sail here despite throwing one in the brig, and my paperwork is complete. How may I help you?"

"Setting expectations?"

A slight nod. Maybe her half-lidded expression was exhaustion.

"What were your orders?" I asked.

"Reposition the Eagle's Stoop at Home City Station with all due haste. Remain at alert. Await further orders." She found a piece of parchment with an official looking gold stamp, rotated it for me to read.

I did. I asked, "Don't commissioned officers usually re-enlist?"

She sucked in a breath.

I clarified, "I'm not trying to be rude. Rainy Days—"

"Director Rainy Days—" she corrected.

"You recognize subtlety. Cool. Short review: Rainy Days wanted a tool. She manufactured a Directing Superintendent who she intended to command one of her armies. Me." I curtsied. "I ran away before she could train me. Still put me through the wringer, caught me, then designated me her heir so she could run off on a military adventure. I don't trust anything that happens wasn't planned somehow by her. She tossed me a hot potato. I require a tool that's sharp like me to catch it, slice it, and stuff it with butter. I am hoping that tool is you."

She took another measured breath. "Permission to speak freely?"

I didn't understand the jargon, but it was clear enough. I nodded.

"Nobody in this male-dominated service wants a cripple around, especially a woman, no matter how hard she proves herself. They don't want to serve under her. They don't trust she won't cut and run, even though I can fight as well as any man. I get shit for duty assignments and no promotions, despite having graduated at the top of my class and being made to believe I'm the Director's chief siege strategist. Nobody got the memo. I can take the hint that I am not wanted in this man's service and I am accepting discharge."

"When?"

"In two days—would be were we at HQ. Now, I have to wait until this milk run tour of duty is over or someone relieves me of command." She lifted an eyebrow, looking hopeful I might give her what she wanted.

I looked her over again. I saw plenty of scars. Muscle. Muscle on a woman. Her eyes studied me with wary intelligence. I said, "I bet you can fight. I will learn something when we get a chance to spar."

She looked ready to huff, then her eyes halted at the recent bruises on my arm, flicked to my face, finally resting on my messed up ear which I turned toward her for a better look—with a grin. I said, "I've decided I don't want plastic surgery. Maybe I'll get an earring. Makes a statement, don't you think?"

"That you're not a nice person," she said.

Not a question. I took it as a compliment. "I'm a devil-girl, but I protect people—don't get me wrong. You say you're handicapped?"

"Handicapped," she sneered. "What polite people say when they want to gloss over a reality they don't want to have to deal with, candy-coating 'cripple' so they don't feel bad." She might have spat, were she not on her ship.

I jerked my head back at her vehemence, then put a hand to my chin, thinking. "Huh?" I said, "I never thought about it that way. That said..."

I stood, making sure she could see my left leg. I gave it a shake. My custom-made shoe fell off, then I kicked and the brace came off slide and bang into the wall.

Her eyes followed its trajectory.

"Speaking 'freely:' Fought a dragon weapon master a year and a half ago. I won.

"Splintered my tibula into 61 pieces. Nearly bled to death. Had it replaced.

Continued...

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Replied in thread

@HeliaXyana

The "AI=Evil" thing irks me… The lack of nuance completely gatekeeps those using tools like LanguageTool, Grammarly, Speechify, or even just autocorrect. All of which are also "AI".

I agree that there is a distinction. It's between AI (like in Google or chatGPT) and machine learning, often used to build narrowly focused smart tools. Your cited tools aren't necessarily LLM-based (though you should believe them if they tout the feature); they can use models narrowly trained on specific data, or even ethically trained AI. That doesn't mean that the results are good, or reliable, or that they don't tend to dumb down your style (or ability) as an author. This is true for artist tools that offer better sharpening of image or clean up. Double-edge sword, here. You must be smart enough to curate the output of the tools you use, or you chance being made a fool.

Using a chatGPT to write or draw something, however, is not only cheating, it's cheating yourself from learning anything.

I don't want my art or science generated by AI, especially since an AI generates statistically probable responses to prompts, not factual answers to questions. It can't be more creative than the average of all the current trends. Who wants to be average?

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#WordWeavers 2025.06.15 — If your MC found a clean, sealed, unlabelled box, would they open it? Why or why not?

Likely. Even if it were on the street (but not, for example, on somebody porch or stoop). She's not stupid, though. She has the ability to do such things remotely and safely. How that works is because she can [spoilers].

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