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Author of queer, wry sci fi/fantasy books. On Amazon.
Editor of all fiction genres.

Friday, 8 November 2019

Accidentally Progressive Misogynists


It's no secret that I'm a feminist, but I also grew up reading and adoring the words of Dead White Men, as they're often referred to now. Today, however, I want to focus my gaze on two peculiar bedfellows: Hemingway and H.P. Lovecraft.

When I first read Hemingway - for school, surprisingly enough; most other authors of "Great Literature," I sought out on my own - I was struck by the female protagonist's ferocious personality. In Matilda, Roald Dahl's main character comments to the kindly librarian that she "doesn't understand some of the things he says sometimes about men and women." That stuck with me, and when I got to Hemingway's books years later - For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms - I definitely expected them to be, well, more offensive.

Hemingway's women are often scrappy, tough, and give as good as they get - and frankly, the men in his stories are often a pretty ragged, sorry, rather troubled lot. A femme fatale dame may be seen as death walking on a long set of legs, but the fact that she even poses a threat to Man and the Natural Order implies something very interesting about this so-called and imagined "rightness." But let's stick a pin in that discussion of "rightness" and quickly mention my other target: Lovecraft.




A Spooky, Lonely, Racist Old Man 



Now, it may surprise my gentle (or not particularly gentle) readers that I still have an abiding fondness for Lovecraft's work. The man himself was a lonely, sad fellow who had so many compulsions and fears that he barely functioned. His phobias - or at least, things he wrote about as being frightful - included dogs, cats, rats, cellars, cold rooms, the ocean, cephalopods, fungus, weird colours, Black people, Native Americans, other Brown people, Jewish people, Mixed people, non-Christian religions, women, mixed neighbourhoods, the dark, mirrors, and of course, madness, ruin, and mutation.

When talking about Lovecraft, some people (like his esteemed but regressive and unmannerly biographer Joshi) try to skirt around the ugly stuff, or downplay it - as in a rather awkward conversation I once had with a publisher in a significant Lovecraftian fiction house that shall remain unnamed. The woman insisted that Lovecraft had married a Jewish woman and therefore could not hate the Jews, and that for the time period, he wasn't that racist...

The counterpoints to this are painfully easy to make, but suffice to say that readers who are not convinced that Lovecraft and Hemingway are assuaging their own fears of other's perceptions and hiding from rather easily-proven points. Both are racist and somewhat misogynistic; both were also rather good writers. We must accept both premises rather than trying to justify or negate one or the other. The world does not always accept easy and comfortable categorization into "good" and "evil" or "bad."

Now, of course, as a white woman, I have a certain amount of societal cushioning that just makes it easier to endure and set aside certain things. And yet, there is a core to these two authors' works that calls me back, even when they surround or allude to rather detestable ideas.

In addition to a sort of mystique and fear around "The Other," whether speaking of women, non-white people, or combinations thereof, there is also a peculiar and almost beautiful longing.

There is something ineluctable about both Lovecraft and Hemingway that compels me deeply. It's the same tendency one can find in, surprisingly enough, such hated halls as the Incel (involuntarily celibate) forums of the latter day. They feel absolutely helpless before what they believe to be the absolutely monumental power of The Feminine, or The Threat of Non-Whiteness, or Pagan Decadence, or Homosexual Weakness. They constantly hint at or state outright that they are fighting these "fallen" influences - as though that's a fight they're constantly losing internally. One is reminded of the erotic angel-wrestling scenes alluded to in Angels of America, when Joe, the Mormon man with a bad case of sexual repression, discusses his gay longings.

The failure fetish


The thing with Hemingway, and often with Lovecraft, is that their stories are often about white men failing. Sometimes their characters die in moral triumph, but they die nonetheless. It's as though they want to fail, or as though the only way to escape the moral question altogether is with death. The striving and inevitable failure is almost compulsive, a kind of "l'apell du vide" (call of the void) where they have an ineluctable longing and tendency towards that which they claim to abhor.

Both men are fascinated with "the Other" even as much as they often abhor The Other's differences. Whether it's femininity, breaking the binary, or things "too horrid to name" (presumably gay stuff and BDSM, one supposes), Lovecraft kept coming back to the strangeness, especially genderless beings. The essential normalization of white, cisgender male masculinity - a completely artificial depiction of it, one might add, which is ahistorical and entirely synthetic, despite the way modern-day "Red pill" types and Republicans fetishize it - is rampant. And yet it is also tremendously fragile, in a way that echoes Christian morality. Even the slightest pleasure is a window through which evil can peer, or whisper, or tempt one from righteousness. And yet, are these evils not rather banal? If one's life and moral uprightness can be destroyed by an incautious application of glitter, is it not a rather sad, hollow life?


Extremely mediocre art by Michelle Browne.

The hidden longing


There is something incredibly empathetic hidden at the core of these works. The "terrible, unknowable" urge compels them to investigate the forbidden - and to understand things beyond their own world of experience. Similarly, in the Warhammer 40K novels and setting books, trying to understand the Chaos Gods or Xeno forces such as the Tau or Eldar can result in being "tainted" - in effect, empathy is both one of the Empire of Man's greatest weapons and greatest weaknesses.

But this longing is always the undoing of characters - when they dare come too close to the things that tempt them, whether those be horrifying powers, immigrant women whose children are going missing, or gods who walk as Black Men (as in Dreams in the Witch-House), all that is "good" and "noble" in these men is destroyed.

It's always because of family influences or heritage or interests, or then their experiences, but even unwillingly, the characters develop empathy and get closer to the cosmic horrors. The guy was racist, but part of him knew, I think, just how wrong he was. Not something he could face down.

In the later years of his life, Lovecraft started to write with more empathy and kindness about the otherworldly cosmic forces and aliens his characters ran into. Ernest Hemingway, who died of depression, met a fate that thousands of men fall prey to each year. One man died of poverty and isolation; the other, of unresolved mental health issues.

That unwilling empathy in these lauded dead white males is often lurking there, and it's so sad that they and other racists effectively cut themselves off from others' human experiences.

And perhaps, that's the greatest lesson - to conform to these artificial standards of masculinity is the real doom. Where a world of wonder and discovery awaits, the real horror comes from living within a prison - and thinking it's the only way and most correct way to live. And that ironic fate is not one I'd wish on anybody, especially now that people have a chance at living differently.

***
Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people’s manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet: * OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

Tuesday, 29 October 2019

What Even are Jokes?

Millennials - and now, Gen Z - have some weird coping mechanisms.

On a late-night browse through Twitter - which, honestly, tends to stir many ideas - I was reading one-liners and social justice observations while Bad Romance, a podcast about ill-conceived romantic comedies, played in the background. As one of the posts, Jourdain, plaintively asked her boyfriend, "why are you like this," I laughed. It's a favorite memetic joke of mine, and a standard in our household, often repeated when something has gone awry.

Similarly, other simple, despairing cries have become a form of humour - such as the one that inspired the title of this post.



Why are you like this? 


A few years ago, it was Generation Y, the Millennials, who were supposed to Save Us All. Whether we do or not, however, it's impossible to deny that Generation Y - most of us barely in our 20s or 30s - are already exhausted.

Fatalistic, often beset by mental health issues, physical health issues, a history of trauma, societal marginalizations, poverty, or often, a combination of these, Millennials have turned to three coping mechanisms - weed, the internet, and each other. Perhaps it's an uncanny combination of all three that's led to a weird comedic renaissance.

Of course, sweeping and broad generalizations have their limits, but suffice to say that I'm talking about concepts that cross and touch on cultural elements from the queer community, the online community of people of colour, the disabled community and autistic community, and other overlapping groups - yes, including straight, cisgender, heterosexual, and white people. Many of us, as I've said, have various struggles right now, but the common language of memes and comedy often unites us.

For the lols


Comedy tends to fall in broad political groups. Those of us on the left try to eschew jokes that play on "punching down" and enforce marginalizing power structures. In search of comedy that doesn't reflect the regressive ethos of the 90s, our era of origin, a strain of Dadaist absurdism has formed the DNA of our comedy.

Millennial jokes and humour really give me pause. There are intricate rules of grammar, both visual and verbal, that must be obeyed for punchlines to land, but it's also easy to form new jokes using or playing on these rules. References to Tide Pods or moral panics of the day, InTenTiOnAlLy PoR oR iNcOmpRehEnSiBle WrItIng, a focus on poor judgement calls, and mental and physical health symptoms all characterize popular topics. GIFS and images - sometimes macros, sometimes on their own - work either as stand-alone punchlines or visual completions of verbal jokes. Some GIFS and images have taken on their own significance, often completely disconnected from the image's original context. Michael Jackson eating popcorn from a scene in the "Thriller" music video indicates an enjoyment of drama ensuing in a conversation thread. Kermit the Frog sipping a cup of Lipton tea indicates a sassy judgement.

Of course, there are many more. Ironic and sarcastic references to educational or edutainment television such as "The More You Know", to childhood favorite cartoons, and even anonymous photographs of strangers' cats can all serve as side-splitting punchlines. References to creative media that cross over with popular aphorisms from Twitter and Tumblr, and sometimes Reddit and Facebook, bleed in and out of fashion. Decontextualizing them for a moment, it's almost baffling or bewildering. Given that much of the humour is highly context-based or simply absurdist, some of it "pure" or "wholesome" (i.e. relying on positive, sweet, or heartwarming experiences) and some of it utterly fatalistic, it can be hard to understand how all of the jokes work, or even why they're important.

A brief history of suicide jokes


But very noticeable is the prevalence of jokes about death, suicide, and existentialism. Multiple media outlets have been horrified and fascinated and wagged their fingers at us for this type of humour. 

However, these jokes were also very common during and just after the Great Depression - as demonstrated in a plethora of classic cartoons. 

I think there's a sort of nihilistic argument that at least suicide restores a sense of control, and in a world where the climate crisis' impact is more visible than ever, where chronic mental health problems are an epidemic, and where access to medical care or time off for sickness is rarer and harder to get than it has been in decades (well, stable in its awfulness in some cases), maybe people feel like suicide is the one way to take things back. Maybe it's a way to make the very real possibility of succumbing to depression or other illnesses a bit less scary - whistling in the dark, as some writers used to call it. Absurdist things also tend to play into this. If we can't ignore our demons, perhaps we can befriend them.

Is it okay?


Honestly, I was stumped about what all of this means. Why do Millennials turn to humour like this to survive? What does it provide for us? My partner had a wry insight into the vital role comedy is playing in our survival. "Humour at times like this is an important act of balancing that allows us to reject the horrible situation we live with, while still existing in it. We have been told to accept what we have to pay bills and get by, but this balancing act allows us to not accept it, but live with and cope with it," he pointed out.

It also serves the role of a shibboleth, a passcode or phrase of recognition. Users of Tumblr, Twitter, and even Facebook become fluent in both memes from within their communities and outside them. For instance, members of politically conservative tribes (in the ethno-cultural sense of the word "tribe") are extremely fond of the Minions from the "Despicable Me" series, to the extent that Minions have developed their own independent associations.

On the other hand, certain phrases, such as a "good good [adjective or noun] boy" to describe a creature, object, or person of which the speaker approves, evolved out of the My Brother, My Brother, and Me podcast, but has a simple structure that makes it easy to replicate. Even without the original context of the show, the structure of the phrase has an inherent appeal and comedic elegance that gives it broad applicability to a variety of situations.

It's not as bad as it looks


Honestly? Any coping mechanism can be bad for one if it's used in place of self-improvement, but it's impossible to miss the sweeping waves of therapist jokes that have also taken over the internet. And maybe that's a good sign.

The key is to turn our jokes and fears into action. I'm not finished feeling shocked by how effective direct local action is compared to arguing on the internet. Using online connections to build local friendships and develop solidarity both far and nearby is really important, and for those who can't afford therapy, the support of friends really helps recovery. 

***
Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people’s manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.
Find her all over the internet: * OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

Friday, 11 October 2019

Upsetting People is Not Revolutionary

Well, The Joker just hit theatres, and honestly, I'm not sure whether I'm going to see it.
Art by Michelle Browne.

Quite a few cultural critics I admire and respect have panned it, still others have said it was boring and unambitious - and frankly, it's no secret that I'm not the biggest fan of comics, for a variety of reasons. I'm curious, sure, but based on what I've heard from various podcasts and Youtube shows, as well as friends' chatter and Twitter, it's basically a dumbed-down Taxi Driver or Fight Club, without realising that those movies were critical of the main character's perception of the world.

Of course, there's also the problem that the director, Todd Phillips, talked about "triggering people" dismissively in some interviews, and both he and Warner Brothers seem to want to have it both ways - to upset people, to flirt with inciting violence, and to insist that it's just art, which cannot be censored (and that criticism is the same as censorship...which it isn't, by the way.) Phillips also complains about "woke culture" with the sort of embittered smugness that generally demarcates other failing comedians - such as Dave Chappelle, Louis C.K, Jerry Seinfeld, and other men who have mistaken their own prestige for talent.

Joaquin Phoenix, the twee, breathy method acting star, also seems to have made the same mistake. "I wasn't comfortable while making the film," he insisted. But while I really loved his acting and the movie Her in general, I can't help rolling my eyes at this take.

Upsetting people is not art



There's this idea in art and cultural commentary, and particularly in the zeitgeist, that because art is supposed to evoke emotion, evoking emotion constitutes art in and of itself. Quite frankly, stepping in a dog turd and breaking one's ankle also elicits emotion, but it generally isn't considered an artistic performance. Now, if said event is filmed and uploaded to Youtube, is it art then? Academics and Smart Internet People are ready and waiting to explain both how it is, and isn't art.

The thing is, the Joker movie isn't an unfortunate or hilarious accident. Great effort went into it, as well as a hefty budget and substantial promotional energy. This isn't some accidental, daring indie darling coming out of nowhere. It is very much commerce in the trappings of art. Now, can that still be art? Sure. But let's call a card a card, shall we?

Art qua art? Try Art qua money. 


This movie has an agenda...and above else, that's making money. The controversy over it - which, as much as I hate it, I am writing about and therefore contributing to - basically functions as a marketing push.

Rather, we should express how terribly bored we are about the whole thing, and we shouldn't fund the damned enterprise. Go see it in the cheap seats, or undertake alternative measures to see it, if you absolutely must. Or, do what I sometimes do when I want to hear about content but not suffer through it, and read, watch, or listen to a bunch of different thinkpieces about it.

But honestly, there's nothing more to say about this virulent, nasty, boring movie. What I'd rather talk about is the central premise - that upsetting people is somehow artistically virtuous.

Good art makes people think too


There's sort of a corollary to the whole "If people are upset, they'll think!" argument, and that is that happiness is an opiod, something that dulls the senses. That's as absurd as it is untrue. First of all, happiness and contentment are not the enemy, and in a world such as ours, rife with inequality, we ought not treat them as such cheap currency. They're rare, and they ought to be treasured. That's not to say that we should lull ourselves into thinking everything is all right - but that's not what happiness is about.

Rather, happiness comes from change, achievement, new experiences, and appreciating what we have. And good art - say, the book series beginning with A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle - will certainly do this. Yes, those books make me happy, but they also fill me with wonder and admiration. Art that makes us happy also makes us connected to others, and might even encourage us to make art ourselves, try to be good at something, or try something new.

A friend of mine is really into Lois Bujold's Vorkosagian series, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Robin Hobb's Assassin's Apprentice trilogy. Some of those books are hard on the heart, sure, but nobody who's advocating for happy art is saying it needs to be, say, forced positivity art or pablum. And, sure, all these writers are ladies - but that doesn't mean men can't (or don't!) write nurturing, empathetic books with characters who are more than angry, lost boys. Not to mention that the most recent Hugo and other fantasy and writing awards are really showing a wonderful sea change - Mary Robinette Kowal, for instance, or The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet or Space Opera being fine examples. As far as empathetic male writers, I must always recommend Zig Zag Claybourne's The Brothers Jetstream, Ari Marmell's Mick Oberon series, or Chuck Wendig's writing. 

And yeah, we do need to give empathy and kindness to these lost boys who relate to these movies - but the way to do that isn't to enable their bad habits. It's to give them a better world, access to therapy and medication if needed, and fight toxic mental habits. That's what the rest of us have to do - but the good news is? It works.


***
Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people's manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet:
OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Ko-fi




Thursday, 10 October 2019

Multi-Level Marketers are Modern-Day Plague Doctors

Art by Michelle Browne

Today, I saw a video that sparkled across my neurons and absolutely demanded I share some weird facts with the world, so here ya go.


MLM huns: "let's take this failed attempted remedy for the Black Plague and use it as a disinfectant! That'll work" 
*Plague Doctor intensifies*

Now, you may or may not know what Multi-Level Marketing is, but if you don't, let me throw some names at you: Doterra. Amway. It Works. Mary Kay. Silpada. LuLaRoe. Young Living Essential Oils. NXVM.
One of my many weird interests is studying Multi-Level Marketing (and watching Reddit dramatic readings that discuss it), and I have always been interested in cults, so the overlap in these is natural. But since I've grown up in a medical family, with parents who are actively aware of and concerned about fake treatments and bad science (since it harmed patients), I also like to learn about fraudulent cures and quackery masquerading as alternative treatments. Now, alternative treatments can have value, but sometimes, they pray on the scientifically ignorant and vulnerable. 

And there's a long, long history of this...some people will take any opportunity to make money, even if it means monetizing a crisis or shaking down sick, scared people. 




Plague Doctors? 


Fun fact, but the "thieves' oil"? Yeah, it comes from the Plague Doctors who'd come in and pillage areas of Vienna and Florence when the Black Plague was running rampant.

Thieves would also smear on the oil in hopes of looting homes of the dead without getting their Plague. Another superstition of the era holds that opal rings would crack and turn black when someone caught the Plague. Unfortunately, the killing of cats believed to be associated with witches only worsened the Plague, since it traveled on and infected the fleas on rats that came on ships from the east, and from trade caravans. But cats killed rats - and taking away cats made things worse. Sadly, Jewish people were also blamed for the plague - even though kosher and hygiene laws were keeping their enclaves safe, many Christians thought the Jews had started the plague (which is obviously not true). This probably made things worse - hence the emergency situation of the worsening plague, especially in Italy. The reason for those weird bird masks is that people in that era believed that "miasmas," or "bad air" would cause infections - a primitive attempt at germ theory. (Their Islamic Colleagues to the east were much better informed about "invisible contagion," as we can see in the works of Avicenna, a famous physician of the era, but I digress.) Anyway, those long beaks were stuffed with dried flowers, potpourri, and other stuff that smelled nice, essential oils included, in hopes of warding off the "bad air". Unfortunately, the doctors were often unethical, unlicensed, and sometimes experimented on Plague victims. Yikes! Although the Plague Doctors' heavy coats and masks often kept them safe, unfortunately, they still carried the bacteria on their cloaks and coats...infecting more patients. 

So in a way, MLM huns are carrying on a "proud" tradition of fraudulent medicine, quackery, and fake cure-alls that sabotaged real medical research and science for centuries. They're even using the same tools.

You can learn more about this by checking out the phenomenal and funny podcast "Sawbones" or watching Frederick Knudsen's "Down the Rabbithole" episode on Plague Doctors. There is also a Vice documentary on the Black Plague that may be of interest. Although cases of Bubonic Plague still crop up here and there, we now have treatments for it.



***
Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people's manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.
Find her all over the internet:

OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr *
 Ko-fi

Friday, 4 October 2019

How We Lie to Ourselves and Make it Pretty

Today, something's on my mind: the destructive power of narrative and stories.

TV shows, podcasts and books - more so TVs than the other mediums, funnily enough - do so love to talk about the importance and power of narrative. I remember episodes of Doctor Who and Supernatural that touched on this theme, and more recently, Game of Thrones used narrative and "having the best story" as an excuse to make a particular character rise to the throne of Westeros. (It's also worth mentioning that, in the same finale, talking about "the power of stories" is used to get a character out of execution.)

In the context of storytellers talking about the importance of stories - myself included - there's always something self-congratulatory and auto-fellating that bothers me about it, even when it's handled elegantly or beautifully. There's no getting around the fact that such situations represent creators literally telling their audience how important both their creations and the creators are. It reminds me of the tricks of confidence artists, bringing their mark or dupe into the confiding folds of conspiracy - although admittedly, a modest amount of money and an investment of time are probably less ruinous than most con-men's schemes.

A hidden punch


As well, I can't help thinking about all the times when narratives can also be used to mislead, deceive, or even just present a perspective that's most flattering. Because there's a slightly glorified place for "storytellers" - journalists included, to some extent - we don't talk about how those narratives are active in, say, social circles and politics.

Yet there's something to say for a satisfying plot arc in real life: a rise, success, and a well-deserved fall. As I write this, non-democratically and possibly fraudulently-elected President Donald Trump is undergoing both a swirling media storm and the early stages of impeachment. For my part, I find this particular exodus deeply satisfying and long overdue. But his rapidly-dwindling base of supporters, of course, see him as a man wronged and maltreated.

For instance, Andrew Scheer and Maxime Bernier, among other politicians, are presenting the narrative that immigration needs to be regulated to "keep us safe" - using ambiguous and hinting language and implying things without saying them directly. They're invoking tropes, if you will, without saying them outright - more so in Bernier's case, but still.

Journalists can wade into this fight, as can scientists, but presenting facts and figures and sharing the truth alone isn't always enough - these, too, require the framing of a narrative to be acceptable by the public. Broadly speaking, journalists and scientists are pretty responsible, ethical people - but their work can be weaponized or misinterpreted as well, or presented out of context to reinforce a particular narrative.

The ugly truth


Narratives are also used in social circles to present some people as victims and others as abusers, or when we present ourselves in the best light in a particular situation. Sometimes the truth is a little more complex than tropes, unfortunately - and sometimes, we have to overcome our own self-perceptions to mend bridges. Although some events lend themselves to easier decision-making, not every incidence of wrongdoing is as cut and dried as a sexual assault case usually is. Kai Cheng Thom has an excellent column in the Daily Xtra about accountability and social tension in queer communities -

something I've seen firsthand, and unfortunately, participated in as well, and her suggestions for restorative justice, accountability, and an overall philosophy of kindness are worth reading for everyone.

Part of the problem with viewing things narratively is that all of us are the protagonists and heroes in our own lives - which means we may not realise, or may not want to be honest about, our impact on others. It's easy to worry about being someone's big-bad-evil-guy, but sometimes, we're just the reoccurring villain or the frienemy - and because of our own narrative perspectives, we may not realise it.

A way out


It can feel like we're the pawns of greater narratives, or captive to our own desires, and to some extent, these things can be true - but only if we don't rebel or at least reconsider what happens to us, as well as the impact of our own actions. Critical thinking has always been important, but in an era where production values have never been higher, it's more than prudent to examine both our own presentations and those of others.

As always, what's best in life and what's most important come down to three things - the most pleasurable, the least harmful, and the best for others. Ideally, all three of these options or requirements should be fulfilled with our choices. Sometimes we have to choose between two of them, and there's something to be said for debating precisely how our actions and choices fulfill these categories, but it's a pretty good way to make decisions generally. At the very least, being aware of our own tendencies to be unreliable narrators and the pluralistic nature of truth will keep us both honest and cautious - and maybe even a little more forgiving.

***
Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people's manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet:
OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr *
 Ko-fi
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