Showing posts with label heroines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heroines. Show all posts

22 December 2018

Why I could never be a Modern Fiction Novel Heroine
(back to humour for Bad Girl. Tis the season for frivolity, after all)



Let’s call her Tiffany.  Nah, too twee.  How about Jen.  Meet our fiction heroine, Jen.  She’s a modern girl. Has her own condo. Drives a car. Lives in the city. Has a meaningful job.  All in all, a typical    
modern heroine of a fiction novel.

Sounds reasonable, but I couldn’t be her.  I’m all for ‘suspension of disbelief’ in fantasy, but my world requires more human elements.  To wit:

THINGS THAT BUG ME ABOUT MODERN FICTIONAL HEROINES

1.  They look great all the time.
By this I mean: she gets up in the morning, perfect coiffed.  (Not quaffed. Except maybe in my loopy Goddaughter books.)  She dons clothes for her work day.  Maybe goes for a jog.  And spends absolutely no time in front of the mirror swabbing on makeup or doing her hair.  Did you ever notice fiction novel heroines look great in the morning without doing anything?  They may have a shit-load of angst about their personal lives, but apparently, they have Barbie doll hair.

As of immediately, name of heroine is changed to Barbie.

2.  They never eat.
Oh, they got out to dinner a lot.  You may even hear them order food.  But when it comes, do they ever eat it?  No! Barbie is far too busy arguing with her dinner companion, and then getting upset.

So many books, so many meals where our intrepid plucky heroine says, “oh my, I’m so upset, I couldn’t eat a thing.”

What is it with these feeble women who can’t eat?  Who the hell are they?  What do they exist on? 
When I’m upset, I eat, dammit.  Gotta fuel up for the famine that’s going to come sometime in the next 400 years.

If I hear another TSTL (too stupid to live) heroine say she’s too upset to eat, I’m going to shove the virtual dinner in her vapid virtual face and watch her choke to death.  Oh.  But then someone would have to rescue her.

EAT THE DAMN MEAL.

3.  They never go to the bathroom.
Twenty-four hours a day, we’re with this dame.  Does she ever go to the loo?  I mean, for other than a quick swipe of lipstick and a gabfest with friends?

Do none of these women have periods?
Do they not have to offload some by-products?  EVER?

Oh right.  Barbie is always too upset to eat a thing.  Therefore, nothing to offload. What was I thinking?


4.  They run into the haunted house.

“Oh, a haunted house!” says our plucky heroine. (Note use of the word ‘plucky’ to demonstrate she’s not a chicken <sic>)  “I’ll just pop in there and see what the fuss is all about, shall I?”
WHOMP
(Plucky heroines taste good with ketchup, in my parodies.)

Listen up, modern day heroines! Do NOT be so stupid as to walk into an abandoned place where you know someone was murdered, or even stupider, confront the murderer, all by your little selves! 

Let it be known: when I am pretty sure I know who the killer is, I do NOT confront him all on my own in an isolated location.  Instead, I pretty much run like hell in the opposite direction.  ‘Cause experience has taught me (apparently, I do this a lot) that if someone has killed once, they won’t hesitate to bop my bean.  Even Barbie with half a brain can figure out it ain’t a smart move. 

Modern day heroines, rise up! Rebel against these tired tropes!  Fight back against the lazy mucks who make you appear as dumb as dough.

GO ON STRIKE AGAINST YOUR AUTHORS!  Or alternatively, strike your authors.
I’ll leave now.

Author disclosure:  Just so you know, Gina Gallo of The Goddaughter series loves her food.  You’ll see her eat it.  She sneaks off to the bathroom (offstage, so don’t freak.)  She looks like shit in the morning. Just like me.  Even Rowena of my fantasy books goes to the outhouse and enjoys her meals.  (Not at the same time.)

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

16 February 2014

Heart to Heart


Victorian Valentine
by Leigh Lundin

Valentine’s Day just passed, but let’s face it: Whether fact or fiction, crime writers seldom write about people at their best. Of all the SS colleagues, I tend to write about the dark side more than most, studying true crime to bolster my understanding of fictional deeds.

But this season is about love. People don’t complain Valentine’s Day has become too secular, indeed, we freely spread the love. Other cultures embrace the custom, which can do nothing but promote human relations.

In personal relationships, some say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. That need for love and the anger when it’s thwarted can cause people to react in pain, even violence.

What if they gave a war and nobody came?

Lorena
Love is also our most potent positive emotion. According to a recent NPR report, American Civil War generals so feared the power of love, they banned the popular song Lorena, afraid soldiers might abandon the war to return to loved ones they longed for. Indeed, Wikipedia makes an uncited claim that at least one Confederate officer blamed the song for the South's defeat due to low morale and homesickness.

When it comes to the broader fields of race, religion, and politics, love and hate are polar opposites. However one might criticize young generations, they are relegating racism to the trash heap of history.

David Duke and Julius Malema are two brilliant, charismatic politicians. They have the intelligence and leadership skills to effect positive change to their parts of the world, but each has chosen the darkness of hatred.

A month ago, I came upon “14 Unexpected Responses To Hatred” and I knew I wanted to write about love and hate for my post-Valentine’s article. That article and others feature a number of heroes, men and women and children who've taken a stand for goodness and light. It leads with the story of German and English World War I soldiers who laid down their arms and celebrated the Christmas of 1914 together. Naturally, generals on both sides called up replacements, but who can argue the ordinary soldiers in the trenches weren’t greater than their politicians?

Once a Teenage Heroine

I particularly draw your attention to my favorite heroine, an 18-year-old girl. The incident took place a long time ago, but if you can read about her without tearing up, you’re a better man (or certainly a better woman) than I.

Meet Keshia Thomas. At a Klan rally, she put herself at risk to save the life of a presumed Klansman or neo-Nazi.
Valentine's heart

The Ku Klux Klan is experiencing a resurgence here in Florida and likely other places as well. The new Klan takes credit for saving America from carpetbaggers, Catholics, and commies. More than ever, we need people like Keshia, like Pardeep Kaleka and his friend, former white supremacist Arno Michaelis.

Today’s article is less about crime and more about love, but failing to recognize the inverse relationship between the two would be a crime.