New York Comic-Con 2014

Another year, another NYCC done. This year it was just the Juban Princeling and myself. We managed to get there shortly after the doors opened and stayed until just before they closed. That's a lot of Comic Con!

"This is not a democracy anymore!"

What the prep for my costume did to my hands. This photo was taken after 7 washings.

The Princeling generously donated some "grass stains" to my costume.

The Princeling's inspiration for his own costume was Sled, a boy winter fairy from "Tinkerbell and the Secret of the Wings," a movie that is on so much in my house right now I'm pretty sure we went through it three whole times in one day last week. (To be fair, my 2 1/2-year old, The Duke of Juban, is in love with that movie, too. It's the first thing he asks for every morning when he wakes up, right after "chocolate milk.")

That's Sled, the boy winter fairy, second from left.

Since I am no seamstress, and since the Princeling informed me two days before Comic Con that he wanted to go as Sled, I had to improvise a costume on the fly. I used some fake orchid leaves from IKEA, sewed them with a few stitches to a light blue shirt, cut off the shirt's sleeves, used one leg from some pre-teen size purple leggings as the belt, and trimmed some shiny blue leggings. And, of course, bought some fairy wings. Thank goodness Comic Con is in October, when the pop-up costume shops are open!

Now that the Princeling is in first grade, I've started reading him the first Harry Potter. Because of this, I promised to buy him his own wand at NYCC, which we managed to score just in time for the Harry Potter NYC Presents: The Art of Wand Dueling lesson in one of the family rooms.

Princeling, in the wings, ready to take his new wand for a test drive.

The Princeling may not have reached the part in the book with the Sorting Hat yet, but you can believe that, when asked which house he belonged to, my child answered without hesitating, "Ravenclaw." Blue and gold pride, w00t w00t!

House pride, y'all!

After lunch, in which I had to eat standing up because there were, literally, no seats available, we scoured the show floor and I bought him yet another light saber to add to his collection at home, because really, you can't have too many of those. He also had a great time at the Writopia Lab "Create Your Own Superhero" booth, which warmed the cockles of my writer's heart.

The Princeling also discovered the Mutant Mania booth
so hard we stayed there for 15 minutes. This is my "Let's wrap
it up and do, literally, ANYthing else" face.

We wrapped up with the Big Magic For Little Hands demo downstairs, which gave the Princeling another chance to show off his new HP wand.

This guy. Love it.

Lots of really good cosplay this year, as usual. Special shout-out to this young lady I found taking photographs at the wand dueling lesson, who should win some sort of award for Best TARDIS ever. Note the wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey detail on the skirt.

She is the queen of TARDIS cosplay.

And, that's how you know you're Geek Parenting right: When you're at Comic Con dressed as a character from The Walking Dead, with a light saber in your bag on your back, holding the hand of your six-year old son who is himself in costume as a minor character from an obscure non-theatrical movie and carrying a Harry Potter wand.

Me and my kid at New York Comic Con FOR THE WIN.

Guest Post: The Lasting Influence of Robin Williams

Meredith's Note:

I'm not usually affected by celebrity deaths; I didn't know them personally, and though I may mourn the loss of their artistic contributions, I just don't cry or get upset.

Until Monday.

Robin Williams would not normally be on my lists of actors who come to mind if I thought about my favorite stars, and yet with his passing I cannot help but think about all his wonderful movies I've enjoyed so much throughout my life: Popeye, Hook, Good Will Hunting, Good Morning Vietnam, The Birdcage, and many more. 

More than that, the manner of his death and his prior struggle with depression seem to be hitting us all especially hard. I have not been very open with my own battle against depression since being diagnosed in 2009. For me, it's just too intimate to talk about publicly. As a friend of mine pointed out, though, the suicide of such a well-known person, famous for his humor and his ability to make us all laugh, hits home for so many of us who know that dark place all too well. We who have fought against the black hole and who have even been plagued by the irrational and yet very real thoughts that the world would be a better place without us, we who have talked close friends out of suicide -- we have a pretty clear idea what Robin Williams' demons looked like. Thankfully, with the help of an excellent therapist and some medication, my personal struggle has become manageable and my bad days bearable. For too many others, unfortunately, the struggle is overwhelming...and fatal. People who attempt suicide usually don't want to die, they just want the pain to go away. I can imagine the amount of pain someone has to have inside them to feel like they cannot endure one more moment; I'm so sorry that Robin Williams, and countless others, feel there is no other choice and that they will never get better.

One of my ways of dealing with my own darkness is to write. I write out my demons, I write out my worst fears, and in doing so, I can control them so they don't control me. Lately I write a lot about children because my dark places have taken the form of anxiety -- nearly to the point of paranoia -- about my children being hurt, or worse. I write about children a lot because I know that every day, in a million tiny ways, I let my children down and fail them as a mother. Writing helps me get past that and sleep at night.

My brother, Mr. Funny, has his own ways of coping with his demons and darkness: comedy. If I'm the ancient Greek mask Melpomene ("'Tragedy"), Mr. Funny is Thalia ("Comedy"). Like so many comedians, including Robin Williams, Mr. Funny's jokes come from a very serious and tragic place inside him. One of Mr. Funny's earliest influences was Robin Williams. Here, my baby brother talks about his earliest memories of Robin Williams and how laughter all too often comes from a place of tears.

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My mother likes to recount the times when I was five and would take one of her hairbrushes and “brush my teeth,” a bit I picked up from the endless hours of Robin Williams specials. Maybe allowing my sister and I to watch his specials wasn’t everyone’s model of parenting (my father would also play Eddie Murphy records while I was in ear shot), but I’d like to think this helped cultivate my love of comedy, particularly stand up.

To be honest, I probably had very little idea what Eddie or Robin were even talking about. However, Robin Williams’ frenetic, fast paced, multi-voiced act transcended the generations. He could tell a story about wringing out a mop and turn it into something far more hilarious than most comics’ tried and true bits about their strict Catholic schooling or the string of bad dates they had been on.

I was fixated and, as I got into my teen years, I realized stand-up comedy was something I wanted - nay, needed - to do. Oh, I was a shy introvert and knew it would take a lot to overcome my self-imposed shell. A lot of this, I realize now, came from deep anxiety combined with what was undiagnosed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. How was I to know then that my ability to spout off jokes in the middle of family dinners, events, and even family fights was part of both my strange mind at work, and my quick-strike defense mechanism?

As I got older, Robin Williams starred more often in serious roles. This made him twice as talented in my mind and I was as smitten with his dramatic roles as I was inspired by his comic performances. I knew he had had a history of drug use, but never knew about his struggle with depression. Many people are now saying, “We should have seen it” or “we should have seen it more.”  The sad truth is that no one really knows everything that goes on in the mind of someone who’s depressed, no more than anyone would know what an anorexic, manic depressive, or schizophrenic person goes through. There is a cliche that all comics - at least the good ones - have deep issues they are covering up. Maybe now it’ll be seen as less "funny ha-ha," and more of a dark joke that’s played on us all.

Beyond headlines about the tragic suicide of my boyhood idol, I’ve been reflecting on my own experiences with people close to me who have struggled with depression and other disorders. Many, although not all, are comics. For comics, I guess it is easier and even cathartic to work through as much of the pain with jokes, improvisation, and routines. Of course, “easy” may not be the right term.

A few years ago, a friend and I organized a show featuring comics who were dealing with issues – the kind that never truly go away: alcoholism, drugs, agoraphobia, bulimia, etc. My friend spent her life struggling with the often misunderstood and misrepresented Tourette’s Syndrome, I had my OCD, and together we all told stories that were not 100% funny, but also not entirely sad. Our goal was to entertain, but also educate.

While it’s important is that we learn what we can about depression - the signs, and the support that’s out there - I would like to also respect his family’s wishes to remember Robin Williams as the amazing man and talent he was. Comics who worked with him, or even just met him in passing, have endless stories of how generous he was as a person and comedian, pushing for stage time for other comics and being there for people behind the scenes. The remark comics made when comparing other comedians was often, “Well, he’s no Robin Williams.” He was the gold standard.

Actors in Hollywood talk about how hard it is to do comedy, yet comedy gets such little respect by The Academy. Robin Williams won an award for an amazing dramatic role in “Good Will Hunting,” and to say that was long overdue is an understatement. He made it possible to view comedians as the hardworking performers they are.

There have been many comedic trailblazers, but the legacy of Robin Williams will never be matched. 

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Mr. Funny, aka Evan Morgenstern, can be found on Twitter at Evanjm02, on Tumblr at EvanMorgensternObsessiveComedy, and is co-host of the stand-up show Comic Sans, which you can find on Facebook at /groups/thecomicsans. 

Post-Vacay Check-In

Hello world!

Last week the whole family went for a much-needed vacation to my parents' house in Miami. During that week, the husband and I drove up to Club Med in Sandpiper Bay, Port St. Lucie for four days and three nights of child-free time to ourselves, which we badly needed. I've posted some photos below to make you jealous. ;-)

While on vacation from Brooklyn, I also took a "reading vacation" from my 2014 reading project: Spec Fic by Women of Color. When I travel, I like reading travel essays, so this trip I read most of John Waters' hitchhiking book, "Carsick." I highly recommend it if you have a strong stomach: that man has quite an imagination. He's funny and a good sport, though, and reading his book has made me wish I could take a cross-country road trip just so I could pick him up.

Now that I'm back to Real Life, I'm ready to return to my 2014 reading project and to my writing. I've got my second novel to revise, two short stories to send out, and two works by my critique partners I have to edit; not to mention some more blog posts. Next week I have an interview with "Girl Out of Water" author Winnifred Burton, and in the next few weeks I'll have more sf/f influences, more book reviews, more Lost Scenes, and more Geek TV. Keep checking in!

Until then, enjoy the photos from Club Med: Sandpiper Bay!

Sunset over the St. Lucie River

Morning in Sandpiper Bay, Port St. Lucie, Florida

Our view at breakfast

Club Med has six Hobie Cat sailboats. Hubby and I had an
awesome time going for morning sails on the Port St. Lucie
River. One morning we went so far out we saw dolphins!

Hobie sail

Enjoying a well-earned mimosa after driving the Hobie Cat along the river

One afternoon it rained, so we drank rose wine at the lounge. Of course.

Green-Wood Cemetery Photos, Part 1

I have what I consider a healthy obsession with the cemetery nearby, Green-Wood. It's a designated National Historic Landmark, was the site of the famous "Battle of Brooklyn" during the American Revolution, is home to famous permanent residents such as Basquiat, Leonard Bernstein, and Henry Chadwick, and has been the setting for two of my short stories so far: "Atheists in the Cemetery" and "The Healer." They even have live theater, concerts, and yoga at Green-Wood. We can see the main entrance and most of the northwest hill from our apartment.

There's something very inspiring about Green-Wood: it's part urban greenspace, part enchanted forest, part necropolis. As a historical fiction writer, I love reading the epitaphs and thinking about the lives of the people who now populate Green-Wood; as a fantasy writer, I love the spooky trees, the long shadows, the hills, the really old and weather-beaten stones, the statues, the gaudy mausoleums.

In addition to writing, one of my other creative loves is photography. I studied for three years at an audition-only gifted & talented middle school, and it's never really left me. Here, for your own inspiration, are some of my favorite photos I've taken at Green-Wood. I'll post more in the coming weeks.

Use them as you wish, but please make sure to credit me, Meredith Morgenstern, and link back to this blog at http://meredithmorgenstern.blogspot.com.

I asked my 5YO to put his hand on this
really old and faded tombstone, because I thought it
would seem extra creepy. What say you, world?

Speaking of creepy, check out this memorial
to some kid. My 5YO saw it and told me that
this little boy is lost.

Someone decapitated the Weeping Angels!

She's unofficially called "The Bride," and she's famous
for those staring, creepy eyes.

Writing From the Guts

I used to think Stephen King was some sort of psychopath for all the terrible things that happen to children in his books.

Then I had kids of my own and I realized: Like most of us, he's probably just writing his fears.

Back in 2001 I wrote a short horror story called "Obedient Child." The inspiration behind the story was simple: I thought back to my worst childhood fears, abandonment and the dark, and went from there. The writing itself is rough, but you can still read the story at Morbid Outlook here.

My first novel, BLOODSISTERS, is inspired partly by my obsession with Arthuriana and the entire "child of destiny" trope. It's also partly inspired by my own real-life female friendships. Over the years I've had too many women friends to count. Some are still around, most aren't. Some went away and came back via the magic of Facebook; some are gone for good. Some relationships ended with a whimper as we drifted further and further away from one another until one day we just...weren't, anymore; others ended with a bang, in tears and slammed phones and angry, emotionally charged emails. (One ended over matzoh ball soup at the original Second Avenue Deli location.) BLOODSISTERS is, first and foremost, about two women friends and what happens to their friendship as their circumstances change over hundreds of years. When you live forever, how does that affect your relationships? BLOODSISTERS is one way in which I ask myself the questions that have plagued me for decades as my friends come and go, and my way of wrestling with the answers.

I bring this up because my current WIP, THE HOLLOW QUEEN delves into my new(ish) role as a mother. All the major story conflicts are there: man vs himself, man vs nature, man vs man, man vs society. But the biggie conflict of THQ is man vs the supernatural, sometimes referred to as man vs the paranormal or man vs the Divine. However you phrase it, it boils down to Us versus Things Beyond Our Control.

The supernatural force in THQ kills children, kills them in a lingering and terrible way. The force, nicknamed The Hollow Queen because of the method of killing (based on this mythology), represents all my worst fears for my children: an incurable disease, a fatal accident, a school shooting, a kiddie perv. As the parents and other grown-ups on board my novel's ship race to find out what's killing the children and how to stop it, I inject all my deepest, darkest, most terrible nightmares into my writing. When I write them, I face them, I control them.

This was all brought back to me in stark relief just two days ago. The weather finally picked up, and so I let my kids play at the nearby playground after school. In one of those accidents that just happens at playgrounds, my 2-year old ran down an incline just as a much older kid of about 8 or 9 came running from the side. They collided so hard that my 2-year old was thrown off his feet into the air and landed on his head with a crunching noise. I scooped him up, gathered my 5-year old, and rushed to the nearby pediatric ER. Three hours, two nurses and two doctors later, we were discharged. The little one, thankfully, had no concussion or skull fracture and was, by then, running around the pediatric ward happily chasing a toy truck.

My poor baby

By the next day he seemed to have forgotten all about the massive boo-boo on his head. But I didn't. I couldn't, and I doubt I ever will. The sight of my little one being thrown off his feet, the sound of his tiny skull hitting the pavement, the pounding of my heart and churning of my stomach as I rushed to the hospital, will stay with me as long as I live. Two days later I still tremble just writing about what happened, how much worse it could have been.

Same playground the next day, clearly all better.

Some day, when you read a scene in one of my novels or short stories of a 2-year old being hit with such force that he's thrown off his feet and lands on his head, you'll know I'm finally wrestling with that particular demon.

Where does your writing come from? How do you write the things that scare you? Where do your own demons factor into your writing?

A Thousand Words

As a writer, what inspires you?

As a writer of historical fiction, what inspires us?

If I could, I would gladly travel back in time to the places and periods I write about: Meiji-era Japan, Great Britain in the age of chivalry, and a passenger ship bringing immigrants to Ellis Island in 1907.

Alas, and alack.

The best I can do is a lot of research. A LOT. For BLOODSISTERS I spent days at the New York Public Library, interviewed two university professors of Japanese history, and downloaded countless photos of castles, weapons and armor. I read books that terrified me and I bought a book on the real history of ninjas.

For THE HOLLOW QUEEN I use these photos as inspiration. Based on my research, White Star Line - most famous for their ill-fated ship the Titanic - was one of the top passenger lines of the era. While the other companies focused on speed, White Star prided itself on the comfort and care of all its passengers - even those not traveling first or second class. As you can see from the photos below, while third class - renamed instead of "steerage" - was not as luxurious and grand as first class, it was still a decent way to travel. The dining room boasted white tablecloths and real napkins, allowing third class passengers to dine with dignity and respect.

The R.M.S. Cedcric, circa 1907: one of the ships I use as the
model for The Hollow Queen.

A 1st Class cabin aboard the Cedric

A 6-bed 3rd class cabin aboard the Cedric

The 1st Class dining room aboard the Cedric

The 3rd class dining room aboard the Cedric

The 3rd class children's playroom aboard the Cedric

The crew of the R.M.S. Cedric, circa 1907

Passengers arriving at Ellis Island, circa 1907

A mother and children arrive at Ellis Island, circa 1907

One major change I made: White Star Line often gave their ships named ending in -ic: Olympic, Cedric, Atlantic, Celtic, and, of course, Titanic. For the sake of my story, though, I named my fictional White Star Line ship The Hollow Queen.

After the first draft I'll be taking a field trip to Ellis Island; thankfully, I live in New York City, so I don't have far to go. In fact, the view of New York Harbor, including the Statue of Liberty, from my apartment balcony is part of what inspired me to write THE HOLLOW QUEEN.

What inspires you? What art and photos do you look at to help you write? What research do you do for times and places you can't possibly visit in person?