Writer and Shadowrun Line Developer Jason M. Hardy posts and discusses fiction–stuff I write, stuff I like, and so on. Join in!

I love real-life ghost story books so much that I wrote one, only it didn’t have the virtue of actually being real-life, as I felt the freedom to just make stuff up allowed me to make the ghost stories start and end the way I wanted them to, as opposed to being stuck with the dictates of reality. Two of the stories from that book–“The Portrait Séance” and “Alone with Rittenhouse’s Ghost“–are available for your reading pleasure.

The main character of those stories is a man named Dexter Prowley, who is extraordinarily good at finding ghosts but not quite as skilled when it comes to understanding people. I enjoy characters who have considerable gifts along with big blind spots, and Dexter is fun to write about because he sees lots of eerie things while also missing a whole lot of what is happening around him. He also carries himself with a certain academic detachment, which sometimes makes him as separate from reality as the ghosts he investigates.

Not long after finishing the book about Dexter I came up with a character who was a radio psychic. Like Dexter, he has considerable gifts. He’s no charlatan–he really can look into the thoughts and emotions of other people. His weakness is that’s he’s an asshole. He’s incredibly fun to write, because no one is as good at calling people on their nonsense as someone who knows the secrets they’re trying to hide. He has the arrogance of someone who thinks he’s always right, which is all the more annoying because he is, in fact, frequently right. I named him Oliver and decided he should be Dexter’s nephew.

I’ve written about Oliver on and off over the years but never published a story about him. The stories were more like plays than short stories, exchanges of dialogue to build on the fact that Oliver, for most people, exists only as a voice floating through the air. But earlier this year, some thoughts about Oliver struck me–an opening line, a way to start digging into how he thought and how he operated as a psychic in a crowded city. I didn’t know where the concept was going, but I pursued it on the page for a while, and that meant I eventually had to figure out a plot. In fits and starts, a story came together, with plenty of moments where I wrote myself into problems I didn’t know how to solve. I took several walks around the block or park to figure them out, and finally, a complete story exists. The Infinite Bard project, which offers a series of free stories from a bunch of talented writers, started up as I was in in the middle of writing the story, and I thought that would be a good home for it. And now my slot for the Infinite Bard is here, so I’m happy to finally unleash Oliver Prowley, in all his glorious abrasiveness, on the world! It’s especially fun to have it come out just before Halloween, as that’s a fine time to read about psychics, old grudges, disembodied voices, and hair-raising decisions. Click on the cover to find PDF, Mobi, and Epub versions of the story! Enjoy!

Well, here we are. On this day of making commitments and looking forward, I want to share what I’ve been thinking about this week—what I plan to do. The summary comes first, then I’ll break down each element. Here’s what I’m committing to:

1. I won’t just get over it.
2. I will remember.
3. I’ll strive for accuracy.
4. I’ll listen.
5. I’ll support advocacy.
6. I will not use tools of oppression.

1. I won’t just get over it. One of the impressive sentiments shared in the past two and a half months went (repeatedly) something like this: “Democrats lost because they failed to show enough empathy for others, so they should stop whining about being losers and just accept it already!” It’s impressive that people can pull off a pivot like that without straining a hamstring or something. Sometimes, our understanding of empathy seems to be limited to “something other people should show more of toward me.”

The point being, it might be useful to understand why people are more upset about this election than other elections. Get some understanding of people who are worried about losing and freedoms and safeties that, in many cases, were not too secure to begin with. Those sorts of worries do not just disappear when people tell you to just stop whining and get over it. Because we know what happened in the campaign. We know what was said. We didn’t forget. Which brings us nicely to point two:

2. I will remember. Words matter. I’m not just going to forget what was said in the campaign. We got a blueprint for how to break the nation (dividing people, exploding the deficit, alienating allies, and on and on), vague ideas that don’t count as plans, and lots of broken promises. It’ll take action to fix that. All that stuff doesn’t just get forgotten because the calendar turns. I’m not going to forget the broken promises, the racist sentiments, the sexism, and on and on and on. I have no interest in normalizing that behavior by pretending it didn’t exist.

3. I’ll strive for accuracy. Yeah, the value of facts has plummeted. They’re trading pretty weak against the dollar these days. I can be darkly amused that the party who has railed for so long against “moral relativity” is now led by a man who is more blithe in his lies than any candidate I’ve ever seen who is not named “Nixon.” He might be more blithe, even, because he seems to derive more enjoyment from lying than Nixon did. Nixon didn’t have much fun. Doesn’t Nixon seem like the kind of guy who would scowl at a puppy bearing a bowl of ice cream on its back on a perfect summer day? But I digress.

So yeah, I went through my dark moment after the election of despairing that facts don’t matter, but in the end I can’t leave them. Maybe it’s foolish to believe that accuracy matters, maybe no one cares, maybe no one will be convinced, but I’d rather go down swinging in this battle than concede it. I’m gong to keep pretending that things that actually happen matter, and we’re better off using facts than not.

And when I have to address an issue? I’ll address that issue, instead of looking for a time when the person who said something critical did a thing I didn’t like, or when one party did something that if you squint hard might look like something the other party is doing. I’ll work to address what’s in front of me, instead of trying to deflect it to some issue where I’m more comfortable.

4. I’ll listen. I am absolutely positive there will be many times in the next four years (and of course the rest of my life) when I need to shut up and listen. I’m going to need plenty of ideas that aren’t mine, and I look forward to hearing them. I’m also going to need to learn who is suffering most and what I can best do to be useful.

5. I’ll support advocacy. When I make charitable gifts, I’m going to look at organizations who don’t just do good things but who fight for change. I know a fair amount about how the nonprofit field works, and how charitable foundations work, and I can say this with absolute certainty: They cannot replace the services government offers. They are nowhere near big enough. If they’re going to be starved—and it seems like odds are good that they are—there will not be a large enough flood of private donations that will replace what is lost. That means I need to support organizations that can make the case for why their work is important, that can hold government’s feet to the fire, and can work for broad change.

6. I will not use tools of oppression. When I first heard of Paulo Freire’s concept that oppressed people tend to adopt the mindset of their oppressors, I had trouble with it. If you’re oppressed, you’re seeing firsthand what oppression does. Why would you adopt that mindset? One of the early comparisons that helped it make more sense was fraternities, where you suffer through hazing to get in, then turn around and eagerly participate in the hazing of future members. It goes beyond that, though. Sometimes it’s a matter of environment—when you are surrounded by certain ways of thinking (like, say, being in a culture that supports clear-cut gender roles), it can be tough to break out of them, to understand that what is happening around you is not the only thing that can happen. On top of that, the tools of oppression can look appealing because they get results. Propaganda, dividing people based on fears of the other, assigning the faults of individuals to an entire group—we’ve seen them all work. We’ve seen them win. So if we want to win, shouldn’t we use those tools? How about attacks on the families of people we don’t like, or doxxing them so they and their families are opened up to threats and harassment? It’s not nice, but it sure generates fear, and fear leads to change. And of course, it’s okay if we do it against them. Because they are the bad guys.

The arguments of certain types of extremists mirror each other. We get to torture them, attack them, open them up to organized harassment, etc., because we are right and they are wrong. In these arguments, virtue comes in thinking the right things, not doing the right things.

I don’t have much interest in that kind of virtue. If you have to employ the tools of oppression to win, then I’ll lose. If you need an argument why it’s not great for one group to be in charge of labeling who deserves to be oppressed, then think about the arguments you’d make for why the people you don’t like shouldn’t do it. Then apply them to yourself.

That’s my list. That’s what I want to do. I’m sharing this for a simple reason: accountability. This is here, and it’s public. If I don’t live up to it, call me on it. Tell me I should be better. And I’ll try.

[Note: I don’t do much political stuff on this blog, but I didn’t really have another place for a piece this long. So it goes here. Enjoy!]

Stop me if this sounds familiar. It’s Election Day. A wealthy challenger with a nice political record is challenging an embattled incumbent. There are a lot of reasons to dislike the incumbent. In the eyes of many, the incumbent has weakened the standing of the United States in the world. He has driven up the debt to unconscionable levels doing things that could be called unnecessary and wasteful. He has initiated actions that seem to go against the Constitution on their face and that you believe to be changing the very identity of the nation you love. It seems obvious to you that he should not be re-elected, and yet when Election Day is over, he has done just that, squeaking by with a popular vote victory of just a few million votes. It’s enough to make you want to give up on this whole democracy thing, because clearly the voters can’t be trusted with even the simplest tasks of electing a decent challenger over a terrible incumbent

For liberals, I’m talking about John Kerry’s loss to George W. Bush in 2004. For conservatives, I’m talking about Mitt Romney’s loss to Barack Obama in 2012.

Eight years ago is not that long ago. I can remember pretty clearly how I felt back then and what I did about it. So I thought I’d put together a few ideas and concepts in the hopes that it would be useful.

When your guy loses, the first thing to consider is how you look at the voters who voted the person in that you don’t like. There’s a temptation—and believe me, I know how strong it is—to find a way to write those voters off entirely. To act like there is some intrinsic flaw with them, that they lack basic rationality and are incapable of fundamental human decency. You can write them off as brainwashed. Or lazy. Or crazy. Or racist. Or childish. Or socialist. Or greedy. Any of these sound familiar? This is the temptation to dismiss entire portions of the electorate with any sentence that starts with the words “They’re just …” Like this: Why did people vote for Barack Obama? They’re just lazy and want government to take care of them without them having to actually work for themselves. Why did people vote for George W. Bush? They’re just greedy racists who want to keep what they have and not share with anyone not like them.

Both of these sentiments have been shared pretty freely in recent years, but here’s the problem with them. Think about the people you know. Did all of them vote for the same person you voted for? I hope not. I really hope each and every person reading this knows one or more people who voted for the other guy. Now think about any “they’re just …” statement, and apply it to that individual. Are all your liberal friends truly unwilling to work and waiting for the government to do everything for them? Are all your conservative friends heartless monsters who never give to charity or do volunteer work, and who can’t deal with anyone a few shades darker than them?

Eight years ago, my answer to that last question was a firm “no.” For the record, my conservative friends also are not greedy insider traders looking to foreclose on your grandmother while twirling their freshly waxed mustaches, though it would be kind of cool if one of them was. By and large, they’re kind people who are good to their families, who spend lots of time volunteering, and who want an America where people of all sorts can live and work in safety.

If I’m going to be fair to my conservative friends, I can’t rely on darker stereotypes, because they don’t reflect who they really are. And if I keep treating them like the hideous conservative demons from fevered liberal nightmares, there’s a pretty good chance they won’t listen to a thing I say.

Here’s a pro tip: Going up to a conservative and saying something like “Why do you try to oppress everyone with your religion while trampling all over the poor?” is equally as effective as going up to a liberal and saying “Why do you hate America and want to destroy all jobs while turning it into a socialist nation?” I’m not saying you can’t ask these questions. Give it a shot. Let me know how it goes. I’ll tell you this, though—if any sort of positive conversation results from it, it’s because of remarkable restraint on the part of the person you’re talking to. It’s best to not have to rely on that.

What was reinforced to me eight years ago was that I needed to treat people who disagree with me the way I want them to treat me. Revolutionary, I know. But I’ve had those conversations, the ones where people struggle with the concept that I can believe what I believe while also somehow claiming to be any sort of decent person. After all, if I was a real liberal, would I be talking to them? Shouldn’t I be out paying for teenagers’ abortions with the money I collected from my eight welfare checks? I didn’t like being seen that way, so I figured conservatives wouldn’t be fond of me doing something like, say, wondering how they can claim to be good people when they hate women and want to suffocate the poor in their sleep.

There’s a complication in here, and it’s this: There are people who embody the stereotypes out there. There are people who just want the government to do more for them. There are people who want the government to keep anyone different from them at least one hundred miles away, if not out of the country altogether. Each side of the political spectrum has its worst element. What I’ve found, though, is that I can’t treat my friends like they’re part of that worst element. At least not if I still want them to be my friends. And I can’t assume my friends are the only sane members of the opposition in the whole country.

What it comes down to is this: Both in 2004 and in 2012, the nation was not taken over by a bunch of crazy, America-hating, dreadful people. Instead, people voted for a candidate for a number of different reasons. Some of those reasons were insane. Most were not. There is a rationality at work in many voters, and also a sense of what they believe is decency.

I’m not saying at the heart, we’re all the same or any such thing. I’m also not saying there are not really weird beliefs out there that should be boldly countered. I’m just talking about how we do it.

One thing that has been clear to me is that, often, political differences are based on different perceptions of the world; we then go and apply logic to those different perceptions and quite naturally come to different conclusions. That’s a topic for another essay, though. The point is, the differences exist, and they’re significant, but they don’t have to totally alienate us from each other. We don’t have to treat the other side like lumbering, irrational, horrible beasts. When your guy loses, getting through the next four years becomes a lot easier if you believe that the people who supported the other guy might have some decent motivations. Sure, they’re wrong-headed in some ways, but we all have our failings. I’ve got friends I disagree with politically, I’ve got friends I disagree with religiously, and I’ve got friends who do not see the merits of Joss Whedon shows. They’re all heretics, of course, but they’re also people I’m happy to know. I can tell myself that if the people who voted for the other guy are like the people I know, then it might not be so bad. I still disagree with them, but they’re not deranged. At least, most of them aren’t. I can work with them. I can try to understand their thinking better, so that it doesn’t all seem like people trying to destroy America, but rather people trying to do something good. It’ll be okay. And at worst, another election will come along in four years.

P.S. One more piece of advice: I know liberals had a lot of fun talking about moving to Canada after the 2008 election, but with its socialized medicine and higher rate of taxes as a percent of GDP than the U.S., it’s not the best place to go to flee any perceived encroaching socialism, so that’s not the best talking point. Besides, I’d miss you!

On February 1, 2011, the third-largest snowstorm on record hit Chicago. Events of such historic proportion must be remembered; thus, I have dug into my Facebook archives and found all the posts I made related to what I called the “man-eating killer death snow.” I believe that these posts offer an important glimpse into the travails of one man grappling with natural forces far more powerful than he, and thus deserve to be remembered. Mainly because I’d much rather these be treated as a gripping historical document, rather than a potential mental health study, as some have suggested. Anyway, below are the compiled posts.

February 1, 3:39 PM: The man-eating killer death-snow is here! I’ll keep updates coming to Facebook as long as I survive and have power.

Man-eating killer death snow update #1: Snow has been falling for about an hour. Food stores already scarce. I’ve been forced to eat my shoes. Fortunately, my shoes were made of graham crackers.

Man-eating killer death-snow update #2: The dangers I am facing make me identify more strongly with my brave pioneer forebears. I wonder if they also almost slipped while taking their laundry to the basement.

Man-eating killer death-snow update #3: Decided to burn books for heat. Despite the fact that I don’t have a working fireplace. And the heat in my building is working fine. Look, there’s some books I just don’t like, okay?

Man-eating killer death-snow update #4: Went to the store to shop for emergency supplies. By “store,” I actually mean “neighbor’s house,” and by “shop,” I mean “armed robbery.”

Man-eating killer death-snow update #5: Sanity slipping. I blame the snow, snow, the blinding, blowing, omnipresent, unavoidable snow, snow in every place, in every crack, snow snow snow. Though the fact that I’ve been watching Springer for ten straight hours maybe is not helping.

Man-eating killer death snow update #6: Stuck in darkness. Inky blackness all around. Nothing but dark. Alone, so alone in the dark. No one will find me, no one will help me, no one will … wait. Found hall closet doorknob and got out. Okay, everything’s fine now.

Man-eating killer death snow update #7: After a brief walk outside, I am convinced that nature is a horribly angry god intent on all our destruction who will only be appeased by sacrifice. Kathy is sharpening the knives.

Man-eating killer death-snow update #8: It’s late. The wind is howling outside like the voices of the dead.

Wait. That’s not the wind. That is, in fact, the voices of the dead. Okay, who scheduled the blizzard for the same night as my séance?

Man-eating killer death snow update #9: Cold has penetrated the walls of the house. I might have hypothermia, so I am trying to convince Kathy to offer the appropriate first aid. Given that I’ve tried this in all weather, including mid-summer, she’s not buying it.

Man-eating killer death-snow update #10: Woke up cold, shivering, lying on frozen ground, covered only by snow, my beard full of icicles. But that’s my normal morning routine, so all is well.

Man-eating killer death-snow update #11: Fed my faithful dog companion breakfast to repay him for his unwavering loyalty and devotion. As a reward, he bit me.

Addendum: Finn has informed me that I should no longer refer to him as “my faithful dog companion.”

Man-eating killer death snow update #12: Supplies are short, hunger is rampant, but my party treks onward. Somehow, we are caught by a camera while marching through a towering snow drift. (Picture below; not pictured: Mr. R. S. Donner, Mr. T. J. Donner, Ms. J. Q. Donner, Mr. P. T. Donner).

Man-eating killer death snow update #13: Decided to hunt moose in order to procure food. Does anyone have a helicopter they can spare?

Man-eating killer death snow update #14: I thought it was over. I thought I was done with it. The snow had stopped, we would dig out, and life would get back to normal. But I’ve been doing some investigating, some poking around, and I can’t ignore the facts any longer. This wasn’t just any snowstorm. This was the SAME SNOWSTORM THAT KILLED MY FATHER TWELVE YEARS AGO! Damn you, snowstorm! Damn you to hell!