Smart Girls Can’t Date: The Remix

My doves! Do you remember a couple of years ago when I wrote my blog on how intelligent women can’t seem to find a date because men are intimidated by them? This one here is the one I’m talking about. I cited several different sources to support my theory.

Well, Elite Daily’s Lauren Martin posted an article with the same thesis on July, here, and it’s been making the rounds on Facebook.

This is a real thing that happens to overtly intelligent women. It’s a real double standard in society that smart men are desirable while smart women are not. Women are told (me, I have been told) to “dumb it down” in order to get a date–and have him stick around.

To that I say fuck society. Fuck society right up the ass with a chainsaw.

I will not play dumb to appease a man, or other women, for that matter. I’m smart, and I like it. I may even like that it makes some people scared, because it’s an excellent way to separate the wheat from the chaff, both in the dating pool and the pool of friendship.

Ladies, please, never dumb down your intelligence. Society will not change if we bend, so be smart. Flaunt it if you’ve got it. You’re smart (yes, you right there) and you should love that about yourself. I love that about you.

Gents, do not fear us. We come in peace.


Writer’s instinct in action!

A weird thing happened to me last night while I was working on my new manuscript.

After slapping together a basic outline for the first book in what I hope will be a trilogy, I had trouble outlining the second and third. So, I decided to just start writing the first one in hopes the ideas would congeal a little better.

I started hating all two thousand words that I’d written over the last week, but I thought all first drafts are shitty—I can fix it later. So I kept on writing the next scene.

Here’s the weird part.

I’m in the process of writing this scene, and I’m hating on every word I type out. It’s not flowing, the dialogue is dragging, and my descriptions of the scene leave almost everything to be desired. I’m bitching and moaning in my head for 650 words. Then, I stop to take a break and I reread the scene.

It’s not pretty or well executed, but again, I can fix that later. What surprised me was that the whole time I was muttering to myself about how awful it was, I was also writing an important plot point into the scene.

A plot point I had not thought about. A plot point I was thinking of setting up later in the chapter.

And this plot point worked. It will serve to reinforce things that happen later in the story, and serves as a point of conflict in the scene.

It just appeared. Instinctively. Organically. Without me having to think about it once, and while I was actively thinking about something completely different.

I am amazed and disturbed at the same time. Amazed that my instinct for this story is so strong that it overcame negative self-talk. Disturbed that my negative self-talk is so strong that I didn’t realize what I was writing was actually okay, in terms of the greater narrative.

I hope that my story telling instinct stays strong in the future. I could write a whole book on instinct and finesse it later, and that would be all right.

Has anyone every experienced that kind of moment, where instinct takes over while you’re writing? Tell me about it in the comments.

Friday Favorite: It’s Raining (Period Drama) Men

Guys, you can go ahead and skip this entry. Ladies, you should watch the video immediately, if not sooner.

Happy Friday. God save Colin Firth!

And Then She Kissed Him

It’s still very much the depths of winter here in Michigan, so our Favorite this week is reminder that warmer weather is on its way. That it includes a healthy dose of Georgian, Regency, and Victorian men is purely coincidence 😉

Clips used by the video’s creator include:

Amazing Grace 2006
Casanova 2005
Emma 1996
Northanger Abbey 2007
North & South 2004
Persuasion 2007
Pride & Prejudice 1995, 2005
Sense & Sensibility 1996, 2008
The Shadow in the North 2007
Wives & Daughters 1999

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Plot Development

The following is a short text exchange between me and my authorial sounding board.

me: I’ve had a diabolical thought

friend: What is that?

me: [REDACTED] may have to die at the end.

friend: Um

me: hahahahaha
do you disagree?

friend: Of course I disagree!
I don’t want him to die!

me: i know.
i don’t want him to die either. this is just one possible ending.

friend: Ok

me: but the diabolical part of me is like “Ha! You readers thought he was safe because i pretended to kill him before, but now he’s actually dead. You oughta see your faces!”
“mwhaha. haha. ha.”
“awwww. Bye, [REDACTED].”

friend: You are so damn mean

me: I AM