I want to start by saying that when it comes to movies about dinosaurs eating people, I am so the target audience that they would still make a profit even if I was the only one who wanted to see it happen. It might take a little longer—one blonde does not a multi-million dollar opening make—but they'd get there, given time. My number of lifetime viewings of Jurassic Park passed the double digits before I turned twenty (and it was much harder to re-watch things when I was a teenager, on account of I am older than DVD or streaming video). My number of lifetime readings of the book and its sequel is much higher. I've seen Jurassic Park: The Lost World and Jurassic Park III about five times each, which is more than any sensible person should.

Why am I giving you my dinosaur geek cred? Because I want to be clear that when Jurassic World was announced, I was one hundred and seventy percent on-fucking-board. I was there. Literally the only thing that kept me from the first showing on Thursday night was the fact that I had dental surgery Thursday morning, and did not understand how hands worked. When I saw the first trailer, I cried. I am not ashamed of that. I have been going to Jurassic Park for my entire adult life, and yeah, if they announced the opening of the Isla Sorna location tomorrow, I'd sell a kidney if that was what it took to get me there. Bets have been taken as to whether I will one day walk down the aisle to the Jurassic Park theme.

(I probably won't. But let's face it, a dinosaur-themed wedding would be pretty fucking sweet.)

But there was one thing that made me a little...let's go with "nervous" even during trailers, when I was shushing people who tried to talk to me during my special dinosaur time. And that was the fact that you had Bryce Dallas Howard's lovely Claire—and "lovely" is a necessary qualifier for a woman who's wearing solid white and high heels and putting that much effort into straightening her hair in Costa Rica—but that was, well. About it for humans of the female persuasion. (In the JP canon, most if not all dinosaurs you encounter will be female, due to the cloning process that makes them. This does not actually count as having gender balance. Honest.)

Wasn't going to stop me from going. After all, Jurassic Park III had lousy gender balance, with only Amanda and Ellie really keeping up the side, and it's generally regarded as the worst of the original three. Surely the filmmakers would look at that and say "Yeah, little girls found their way into the franchise through Lex as a viewpoint and Ellie as an aspiration, just like little boys had the combo of Tim and Alan! Let's make sure we keep everyone at the party!" Part of my passion for this franchise comes from the fact that when I was a little girl, Jurassic Park was actually willing to invite me in. Surely the trailers were leaving something out.

They weren't.

( Because while most of these spoilers are from the trailers, it's also polite not to spoil.Collapse )

10. If you read yesterday's post about ebook distribution around the world, you may want to go back and read it again; I made some pretty hefty edits after having a contract discussion with The Agent, and I think it's more accurate now.

9. While I will not say that Joss Whedon is my master now—I remain too critical for that, and still haven't forgiven him for several things—he has made my two favorite theatrical releases of this year, Cabin in the Woods and The Avengers.

8. Although if we don't get another female hero in the sequel, I am going to be one cranky kitty. I knew that would be an issue for me going in; I was not wrong.

7. We're down to three girls on this season of America's Next Top Model, and I don't hate any of them. What? How can this be? I think the world has been intrinsically damaged by the inanity of this season's "US v. UK" concept.

6. You know what's awesome? Disneyland, that's what's awesome. You know what's better? I'm going there in two weeks, with Vixy. Are we now planning to hit every Disney park in the world? Yes. Yes, we are. Next up, Disneyland Paris.

5. Eleven days to Blackout! Who's excited? I'm excited!

4. If you somehow get an early copy, please don't tell me. There's nothing I can do about it, and it'll just raise my blood pressure. But feel free to post a review. Reviews are awesome.

3. You know what makes everything better? Poison dart frickens make everything better. Look at their tiny technicolor deadliness!

2. Jean Grey is still dead.

1. I'm seeing The Devil's Carnival tonight! Yay!

Hope you're all having a great Friday, and are looking forward to an even greater weekend.

...can't trust that day.

Getting out of bed this morning was complicated by the fact that I was so thoroughly covered by cats that I had to practically do sit-ups to recover the use of one arm. This is the true danger of having large cats. When they want to, they win.

Still, the weekend was good, despite back issues which kept me abed a bit longer than I wanted them to on Sunday (as in, "they kept me abed on Sunday"). The new episode of Doctor Who, "The Girl Who Waited," was stellar. The season premiere of iCarly was excellent. I managed to package two-thirds of the pending poster orders for shipping. I made Chris watch War of the Worlds: Live, which was the big concert of selections from the War of the Worlds musical (complete with giant floating Richard Burton head). And Contagion...

...seriously, this movie was designed to be porn for Seanans. It could not have made me happier if it had come with the first theatrical trailer for the upcoming prequel to The Thing.

OH WAIT. IT DID.

Now, I want to note, firmly, that this is not a movie for people who are looking for plot, detailed characterization, clear enemies, happy endings, or absolutely absolute endings. It's a story about a virus. Viruses don't have secondary motivations. They don't have desires. They just have biological imperatives, and when they start exercising those imperatives, it's the job of people like the CDC, EIS, and WHO to step in and try to make them stop. Characters don't get detailed back stories or motivations, because there isn't time.

And yes, lots and lots and lots of people die. That's what happens when this sort of thing occurs. It's a good movie. It's smart, it's solid, and while the science is extremely rushed (and several layers of medical care are missing), it's rushed in the way that says "we needed a two-hour narrative, not a twenty-hour miniseries," rather than being rushed in the way that says "honey badger didn't give a fuck."

If you're not a germaphobe, I recommend this movie hugely. If you are, I recommend you stay home and watch iCarly. Or War of the Worlds: Live.

Ulla!

It's time for ARC giveaway #3...the casting call! Here's how this is going to work:

1. Leave a comment on this post with YOUR DREAM CAST for ANY of my projects. Want to cast the Toby books? How about Feed? Or Sparrow Hill Road? Have the perfect actress in mind for Velveteen? The sky's the limit!

1b. Be sure your comment starts its own thread. Only casting choices left on the original post (not as a comment on someone else's comment) will count as entries. You can suggest cast members for someone else's dream team, but they won't be entries.

2. One entry per project per person (so you can cast the Toby books and the InCryptid books in different comments, but not enter twice with different Toby casts).

3. Explain your cast in the comment. Why are they perfect? Why should we agree with you?

And then...GAME ON! I will choose a winner via random number generator on Friday, at 5PM PST. I reserve the right to supply a bonus prize or prizes for the person whose cast amuses me most, or strikes me as the best supported. (Yes, you can use my casting choices, but you do need to explain why you agree with them.)

Go Hollywood or go home!

...also, mixing my metaphors a bit, but still, I think the statement is valid. I am running as fast as I can just to stay where I am, and while it's fascinating, it's also a bit terrifying. I am trying to do ALL THE THINGS! All the things AT THE SAME TIME! Eventually, I will spontaneously combust, and that will be funny. (Also, how is it my spellcheck knows the word "necrosis," but not the word "combust"? Oh. Wait. It's my spellcheck.)

And now, for the periodic administrative stuff.

Wicked Girls T-shirts.
Deborah is continuing to contact people, collect mailing information, and provide payment information. This is because Deborah is wonderful. If you haven't heard from her, you may be in the part of the spreadsheet she hasn't processed yet, or you may need to check your spam filter, as there are people who have been contacted who have not yet replied. Once we finish going through the spreadsheet and shaking it as hard as we can for stragglers, we will need to go to print, and any unpaid orders will be canceled. We're only printing as many shirts as have been paid for. So check your spam filter today!

Events.
I have, like, ALL THE EVENTS coming up in June and July. Seriously. Next Saturday is the big Deadline release party at Borderlands. The Saturday after, I'll be at Borderlands again, this time as Seanan instead of Mira, to do a joint event with my darling Chaz in his guise as Daniel Fox. Then it's off to Minnesota for Convergence (and Izzy's ice cream), followed by appearing at SF in SF as Mira, and finally, San Diego! My annual pilgrimage to Geek Prom is upon us, and this year I get my Amy AND my Vixy AND a convention-exclusive Monster High doll. Truly, the world is my mollusk.

Anyway, check my website for event details, and remember that even if you can't make any of these events in person, Borderlands takes internet and phone orders for signed and personalized books. They're pretty awesome that way.

Deadline.
Holy cheese, it's a book. Like, on shelves. And people are buying it, and people are reading it, and people are liking it so far. Please, if you've bought it and read it and want to talk about it, stick to the Deadline open thread? I don't want people to be afraid to read comments on other posts because there might be lurking spoilers. Thank you so much, to everyone, for everything. You've been totally amazing.

Cats.
Blue. Fluffy. Pissed off over my recent absence, and demanding I make it up to them with snuggles and scritches. I am surprisingly unbothered by their demands, and have given in wholeheartedly.

X-Men: First Class.
Opens this weekend, and anyone standing between me and the ticket booth come Saturday had better be ready for some Xavier's alumni whup-ass to be aimed their way. I need my mutants. They're an important part of a balanced breakfast. Also, the reviews have been amazing so far, which means that maybe this will be a new franchise, instead of a prequel. Look, a girl can dream, okay?

Monster High.
I WANT THE NEW DOLLS ALREADY.

...and that's it for me, for the moment. What've you got?

Last Thursday, I left work and went straight* to the San Francisco Airport, where I hopped on a big red and silver plane and flew to Seattle. Thanks to Virgin America's generous frequent flier plan, I was actually flying First Class, which meant a much bigger seat, no under-seat storage, and all the free booze I wanted to drink. I did not want any free booze. That was okay, though, since the men in front of me were pretty well-dedicated to drinking enough to justify their upgrades. I think they succeeded. I weep for their livers.

Vixy, Torrey, and Tony were waiting for me on the ground in Seattle. We collected my bags and went on a brief, fruitless search for a Wendy's before returning to the house, where Sooj, K, Fishy, and Lauren were waiting. Oh, the hugging we had! Also the presents. Everyone ooh-ed and ahh-ed appropriately over their shiny new copies of Wicked Girls. My presents had a distinctly dinosaur-y theme this year, which is something I will always approve of. Always.

Eventually, people went to bed. I slept like the dead. And slept, and slept, and slept, and was still the first person up in the morning. This is because there is Something Wrong With Me.

Friday, we went to Old Navy (the cats unpacked my suitcase, and I didn't notice, STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT), Borders, and the grocery store, since I was going to be spending Saturday cooking. And then we played Rock Band 3 until we all wanted to die. It was awesome. This being New Year's Eve, there were many parties being thrown, and many enthusiastic plans being made. Vixy had a headache, and I don't like crowds of strangers, so our enthusiastic plans consisted of staying home, watching 2012, and making rosemary shortbread. I rank this among my top ten New Year's Eves. Shortbread! And global disaster! And Vixy!

Okay, so admittedly, the science of 2012 isn't so much "bad" as "Warren Ellis on acid trying to explain Latin grammar, somehow getting used to fuel a sanity-destroying laser aimed straight at your cerebral cortex" levels of "insane," but hey, there's a GIRAFFE HELICOPTER. No movie with a GIRAFFE HELICOPTER can be all bad, right? Right?

Anyway, life is good, and if you spend the year as you spent the start of it, 2011 is going to make me pretty darn happy. Happy new year!

(*Well, "straight" except for the stops at the post office, Borderlands Books, and Fritz's for mussels and fries. Sadly, "I left work and went crooked" doesn't have quite the right meaning. And this is truly a pity.)

So, like, disclaimers and stuff: this post, more than almost any other, represents 100% personal opinion, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I am not drawing from critical sources, focus groups, or anything but my own impressions of things. This means you may disagree with me, and that's totally cool. Just be aware that I speak not from a position of on high, but from a position of "that weird girl who likes weird stuff sometimes."

With all that out of the way, I present...

Seanan's Best Cinematic Media Moments of 2010.

( We cut because we care. Seriously, cutting is caring when it's in a situation like this. I promise.Collapse )

Next up, books, comics, and anything else I think of that needs listing. (Best Kitten of 2010: Thomas!)

What were your bests of 2010?

The first time I remember seeing The Rocky Horror Picture Show, I was twelve years old. We had successfully managed to beg, whine, cajole, and generally be annoying little brats, and Lucy's mom had agreed to rent it for us—a movie that had already taken on truly cult status in the hearts and minds of middle school girls everywhere. We'd heard older teens talk about it, and now, at long last, we were going to see it.

If you ever want to make absolutely sure a movie lives up to the hype, make sure you show it to a group of twelve-year-olds after they've spent the entire afternoon gorging themselves on pizza and sugar. Seriously. Every line was poetry, every song was the music of the spheres, and every fishnet-covered body part was a revelation (I hadn't even known you could put fishnets on some of those body parts). I walked away obsessed with all things Rocky. I acquired the photo "novelization" of the movie, a book on the history of Rocky Horror, and a copy of the score. I begged until my grandmother bought me the soundtrack from the stage show. I developed a real fondness for fishnets.

As the years stacked up and I plummeted into my teens, I began going to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show almost every Saturday night at the UC Theater in Berkeley, where Indecent Exposure was the standing cast. I dutifully learned all the call-backs and dance routines. I bought cast T-shirts and learned to put on pancake makeup. I even started making my own sequined applique patterns, and designed my own Transylvanian costume* from scratch. I pan-handled for quarters to pay my admission. I dragged my friends. I sat up all night in IHOP, talking about this movie which was a shared experience and a shared community for all of us.

If you've never been a Rocky fan, it was sort of like being a Browncoat, only sluttier and with more sing-alongs.

I'm older now than I was then; I no longer have the time to devote three nights a week to being part of a specific fandom. But I miss it. I really do. I miss the feeling of community, the in-jokes that we were happy to explain to anyone who said they wanted to join, the ticket stubs and the smell of damp velvet and the after-movie donuts at the cheapo donut stand down the block. I miss sewing canvas backing into my lingerie and calling it "outerwear." But most of all, I miss the moment when the whole theater would be chanting "LIPS! LIPS! LIPS! LIPS!" and the lights would go down, and for two sweet hours, the world would start making sense.

Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change ready. This moment of nostalgia brought to you by tonight's Rocky-themed episode of Glee, which will be watched by twelve-year-olds, and which brings my world full-circle.

Let's do the Time Warp again.

(*My hand-sequined tuxedo coat was one of the things I lost when we lost our entire storage unit the year I turned seventeen. I scoured yard sales and flea markets for years, hoping it would show up. It had a sequined applique of a teddy bear dressed as a Transylvanian on one sleeve, and one of a doll whose hair matched the way I always styled mine on the other, and it was battered and odd and I loved it. I still miss that jacket, even if I don't do Rocky anymore.)

A movie called Scott Pilgrim vs. the World was released recently. It's a classic "boy meets girl, boy fights girl's seven evil exes to keep girl, boy learns important life lessons through kicking ass" story, told with all the manic intensity of a Nintendo game on Red Bull and speed. Is it perfect? No. There are probably things that could have been done better, or at least differently, without changing the movie into something that it didn't want to be. But it's good. It's quirky and strange and wild and totally new; it's something we've only ever seen before if, say, we ate a dozen Krispie Kreme donuts before challenging our boyfriends to an all-night Super Mario 3 game session that ended with sweaty sugar-buzz groping on the living room couch.

For example. And even then, it was a hallucination, whereas Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is something you can show to other people.

Sadly, when the opening weekend box office for Scott Pilgrim was reported, it was well below industry expectations, and the movie was promptly written off as a flop. It doesn't matter if it makes back its budget and more on DVD; it failed. It didn't bring in big bucks in the theater. The same thing happened to Slither, which has been one of my favorite movies of all time basically since the first commercial aired. Bad box office, great DVD sales, game over. (And yes, opening week matters. It's incredibly rare for something to have sales that climb after the opening rush has passed, which is why, weirdly, it's important to be a part of that initial rush, if you can. That initial rush is what tells the accountants "this is going to be okay.")

A lot of people said a lot of things when the numbers for Scott Pilgrim started coming in, and what a lot of them said boiled down to, "Why do you care?" You are not, after all, involved with writing, producing, marketing, or selling the movie; you're just a consumer. The movie was there to be consumed, you consumed it, now move on. And to a degree, they're right. No one can ever take Slither away from me; all the bad box office in the world can't keep Scott Pilgrim out of my DVD collection once it's released in a purchasable format. So why do I care?

I care because we're not going to get another movie like Scott Pilgrim any time soon. I care because Slither tanking at the box office is why we had to wait five years for Zombieland. I care because all entertainment is profit-driven, and when we don't put our quarters in the plastic pony, it stops bucking.

Why do book series end in the middle? Because not enough people bought the books. Sometimes they can live on, as with tim_pratt's online serialization of his fabulous Marla Mason stories, but for the majority of authors, if the sales aren't there, the story's over. Why do midlist authors disappear? Because their sales weren't good enough to justify their continued publication. Why are TV shows canceled? Because not enough people gave money to their advertisers. All entertainment is profit-driven. We pay to play, and when we stop paying, they stop playing.

Scott Pilgrim is important because it's a weird, wacky, wonderful movie, and it's going to be a long time before we see something else like it. Next time you love something weird, wacky, and wonderful—whether it's a movie, a TV show, or a book—remember the lesson of Scott Pilgrim, and the eighth evil ex: the box office. In this economy, it's more important than ever that we kick its ass.

Okay. So. If you made me make a list of my favorite movies of all time, the movies that make me stop when I flip past them on basic cable, the movies that I saw in the theater more than three times, both Resident Evil and Resident Evil: Apocalypse would be in the top ten. My cube at work is decorated in RE movie posters. I carry an Umbrella Corporation umbrella. For years, I basically lived in my zip-up S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirts, and only stopped because a) they died horrible, gruesome deaths and b) Hot Topic no longer carries them. At the same time, if you made me make a list of my most hated movies of all time, the movies I have tried to delete from my memory, Resident Evil: Extinction would also make the top ten. There are a lot of reasons for this. They comprise a rant that takes about twenty minutes to fully deliver. Suffice to say, in my world, it didn't happen. So...

Sunday, my housemate and I went to see Jonah Hex (I had promised him Toy Story 3, I couldn't deliver, he got to pick the replacement movie). I found it decent. It wasn't a waste of two hours of my life, and sometimes that and air conditioning are all I can ask from a summer movie. Anyway, as we settled into the all-encompassing seats of Barney-colored love with our popcorn and our drinks, the trailers started to roll. I love trailers. I am a simple soul in some regards.

Establishing shot: a dark intersection full of people. Very film noir, very black and white. Zoom in on a woman's high heeled shoes. Her blue and red piped high heeled shoes.

Her Umbrella Corporation-colored high heeled shoes.

I was sitting up in my seat, practically panting, even before the voice over started telling us exactly how the infection began. As the trailer went on, I got more and more excited, despite the fact that my brain was chanting "no no no no no" very, very loudly. The brain was not under consultation. The brain was not invited. By the end of the trailer, I was ready to run out, buy my tickets, and invest in a whole new assortment of Umbrella co-branded merchandise.

I have been subliminally conditioned into brand loyalty to the Umbrella Corporation.

Does anybody else see a problem with this?

1) I find it really interesting how many people, when presented with a time travel thought experiment, will proceed to do things that result in their original timeline being immediately and irrevocably destroyed. Time paradox is not a cuddly kitten that you want to bring home and play with! Time paradox is bad! Remember, kids, friends don't let friends mess around with the laws of time.

2) Books I have read and loved lately: I Am Not A Serial Killer. Saltation. Freaks: Alive On the Inside (which I found at the used bookstore, signed!). Unshelved: Volume I.

3) Books I have written and loved lately: Deadline. The Brightest Fell. This is a much shorter list, and that's a good thing, because it means I probably haven't actually sold my soul to the devil. Much.

4) I love superheroes. I love Disney. I love these Disney heroines presented in glorious super-heroic style. I especially love the zombified Snow White. This is because I am, in many ways, predictable, and I am not ashamed of that fact. Not in the slightest. Nor do I think I should be, really, as my predictability makes me easy to shop for.

5) Lilly and Alice have figured out that, together, they now possess sufficient mass and surface area to prevent me from moving when they don't want me to move. This is fine when I have a book with me and nothing in the oven, but other times...not so fine. In other news, the house did not burn down, although it was a somewhat close thing. And it wasn't my fault.

6) What he said.

7) This looks like it's going to be an amazing season for movies. My favorite so far this year are How to Train Your Dragon and Kick-Ass, with The Crazies coming in as a close third, but oh! The glories ahead! Nightmare on Elm Street, Iron Man 2, Prince of Persia, Shrek Forever After, and Letters to Juliet! Splice! Even Resident Evil: Afterlife, because my love for the franchise outweighs my scars from the third movie. What a wonderful thing a movie ticket can be.

8) I appear to be thinking in almost purely short fiction terms right now, as I recover from finishing Deadline and tackle the trickier bits of The Brightest Fell. So far this week, I've finished two Toby shorts, started a third, finished an InCryptid short, and started my story for an invite-only anthology. I'm hoping I can even get a Vel piece shoved in somewhere, before the steam runs out.

9) Guess what I get tomorrow. I get a Vixy. Do you get a Vixy? No, you do not. I am not much of a gloater, but right now? Right now, oh, I'm gonna gloat. Because I get a Vixy. Of my very own.

10) Jean Grey is dead, James Gunn needs to call me, and zombies are love.

* Several people have told me that they used my turkey recipe, either as-written or slightly modified, and that their turkeys went over well. One person even said that their turkey was praised by their entire family as the best turkey ever. Ha! Behold my mastery of poultry and its many potential abuses. No one has yet said anything about using my cranberry sauce recipe, which leads me to believe that no one was willing to risk a recipe that came from me and involved boiling sugar. Wimps.

* Speaking of which, my mother had my cranberry sauce for the first time this year, and revealed that she actually hadn't ever had homemade cranberry sauce before. Wow. So that was an awesome experience to be able to give her, especially since my cranberry sauce is amazing.

* I am now almost a hundred pages into The Brightest Fell, aka, 'October Daye, book five.' I have been rewarded for all my hard work with no fewer than six continuity errors that must now be mowed down like ergot-ridden rye. I like mowing things down. I don't like continuity errors. Let the suffering BEGIN.

* Oh, and on the topic of letting things begin, Bolt -- the new computer-animated film from Disney -- is absolutely fantastic. There are some scenes near the end that may be a little too intense for children under six or so, but on the whole, the movie was fantastic, and layered enough to appeal to all age ranges. I started crying at one point, which is always the sign of an awesome cartoon.

* Facebook continues to be amusing in that daunting 'I fell out of touch with you after high school for a reason, you know' and 'I don't hang out with you after work, why would I want to hang out with you on the Internet' sort of a way. It's also helped me find some people whom I love dearly, but aren't on Livejournal. So you win some, you lose some.

* My new website design should be going live tonight or tomorrow. Watch this space for details.