myrdschaem

There is a reason I cannot let go from fiction and especially written fiction. The good ones? They set my blood on fire, they energize me, they make me want to live by burning. This is story is one of these. I'm probably what might qualify as "manic" in other circumstances, fresh from reading this an hour ago. I posted it everywhere else to talk and no one did, so I'm posting it here too. So others will read it.

Link before we dive in: clarkesworldmagazine.com/fall_01_20/

( Let's fucking go. )
Edit: Prettyarbitrary mentioned some discussions more critical on it on twitter. I just saw one and I also agree with the points there? I have to investigate more deeply later. As I said above, I wrote it in a slightly manic way because I had to talk about it. People on twitter mention that they get inauthencity vibes from it and why they think it might be a trojan horse. I will evaluate tomorrow my time again, I think. People already had more time to go over it and I need to calm down. This might make me even more angry that it was this text if it comes from a shitty TERF. But this was still the one, I guess.

Link to a bunch of twitter conversations: twitter.com/MariaHaskins/status/1215755339485732864