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RS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist

#PennedPossibilities 613 — How do you feel about the world or universe you’ve created within your WIP? Are you satisfied with it thus far?

Remember. You asked...

How do I feel about the world itself? Like I stepped in a cesspool up to my knees!

Most nations are theocracies, with oligarchs ascendant fighting one another. It's a full extrapolation of post Jan 20th 2025, stabilized with the needle at religio-fascist, by those who preferred stable to bat-shit crazy, and taken 50 to 150 years into the future. (I haven't decided the timeline, yet.) The initials E.M. in EM Mars Colonizations Corp stand for what you think it does, complete with very cute silvery Heinlein spaceships misnomered as Starships. The main character is shanghaied to Mars as a colonist (one added to a population of 10,000) on the last ship making the passage as EM goes bankrupt. All her life, May Ri struggled not to be completely nothing, destined by her gender to barely have agency, valued mostly because she could bare sons. Now she must master living on Mars, with its corporate frontier rules.

There's a reason Mars Needed Women (the title), but the story I'm telling has "Need" in the past tense. Men die disproportionately more often than the women in Mars Space, and when the corporate power structure begins to crumble, May Ri has to fight harder for survival. She, however, isn't interested in keeping the status quo. Neither is all her sister colonists, nor all the first generation (nisei) Martians who have all been raised by only their mothers.

I'm really satisfied with how the story I'm writing works within this universe. It's feminist to the core. It questions gender roles. It tars patriarchy as ruining the lives of women AND men.

It's coming together, gonzo pantser style. Just wrote the 14th installment of 31. I've 8 of the remaining 17 planned. The reader should be starting to see that May Ri is as ruthless as those in power (the men, of course), but with a female twist. She hates being used, but she likes men (finds them fun) and wishes they'd quit with the power-dominance-shit. She hates seeing other women being hurt, and she's the type of person, given the chance, ceases opportunities and makes solutions. When she has four daughters to protect against the Earthers, it becomes very real.

I'm posting all installments on Mastodon thru the month of March on a single thread. To keep up with the story, follow this hashtag: #RSMarsNeededWomen.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2503.13 — Are you mindful of your readers’ expectations? How so?

How flapping timely! Analyzing when I run into a hitch in my writing pace—like today, again—it is this. EXACTLY. So, listen carefully to what I'm going to say to myself...

I am not telepathic.

Repeat that: I am not telepathic.

Louder: I AM NOT TELEPATHIC!

I DON'T know what the reader is going to expect.

I DON'T know if the current scene is going to frighten, trigger, or be too explicit for my audience...

Because I DON'T have anyone looking over my shoulder, clicking their tongue, and saying, "Tch, tch, tch!"

I am going to take a deeeeeeep breath, now,
clear my mind,
and write the flapping scene—
full stop.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2503.12 — Happy Plant a Flower Day! What rôle does nature take in your stories?

How would you describe a ruined world from the 1st person POV of people who have always lived in said world and find it normal? In the Reluctance series, nature is a very important background character whose words don't always match up with the reader's understanding of how their world works.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 612 — Has your SC ever snooped in a friend or partner’s house?

For the current crop of SCs, either there isn't enough depth of character revealed to know, or they've never had the opportunity—that is, either a friend or partner they'd want to know more about.

This question for the MCs would be far more interesting.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 611 — Have you ever been able to relate to your antagonist / villain? If the answer is yes, then how so?

Almost always yes. I like to examine evil and show how easy it is to fall into being a bad person—how for just a few decisions, things can go bad and you might not even realize it.

The main series antagonist is certainly someone everyone would want to know, and never suspecting she's so dangerous. She's loving. She teaches people and fixes a nationful of problems. She loves tea parties and starts wars.

Even the Doña was likable, motherly in a no nonsense way, being surprisingly supportive sometimes—like warning the MC away from a pop singer the MC had an eye on. She doesn't want to castrate the guy for treating the MC badly the way he's done other women. While the Doña is bad, she's also amassing power to redress a genocide the main series antagonist allegedly committed. Well, she's not entirely wrong that it happened...

I've one sociopathic villainous prizefighter who becomes progressively more extreme throughout the story and I can't relate to him. He's a misogynist and a racist, but I can somewhat relate to his awful handler. That woman's sympathetic backstory has her scrabbling to survive, succeeding when she finds the right guy before losing her boyfriend to the MC (really, to her jealous stupidity in picking a knife fight with the MC). She's had a bad life, and ends up working schismatic elements in the mob to try to bring down the MC, and the Doña who sees the MC as an ultimate weapon. The handler is poor at choosing her agents, however. Tenacious. Doesn't end well.

In another story, there's a Rasputin character who is repeatedly manipulated and conned into being as evil as she is. She's put faith in the wrong man, but is certain in her heart it's the right thing to do, that she's doing good. Throughout the trilogy, his actions test her faith until she sides with the MC. She redeems herself, but only in the eyes of the MC as some acts people can't forget. She's a study in forgiveness.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2503.11 2/2— Do writing challenges spur on your progress?

Wandered over to my other alias and found a like for an earlier work: A MxM romance fantasy story. That caused me to check out the comments and read how some readers really loved the story, and liked how my humor and penchant for detail enhanced it. The frustrated MC even cried, "Tu m'emmerdes!" in it when interrupted at a critical moment. Not sure if the French Canadians use the phrase, but the French do.

I wrote that story for a Male on Male Romance story contest. I didn't win that one, but I couldn't resist the challenge as the novel I was writing contained two male characters who were definitely more than buddies.

So, yes, writing challenges do spur on my progress as an author.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WordWeavers 2503.11 — What’s your most useful skill that could help you in your story’s world?

Answering in the sense it would be useful to the furtherance of the plot as at least a noted background character: In Reluctant Moon, my skill would be photographer. Mind you, for them it's analog photography with darkrooms, silver salts, and chemistry. They don't use electricity, so no digital anything. Something different, arguably better, powers their modern civilization. It will take them to the moon. I'm not sure if the photos are even in color. It hasn't come up though the characters discuss some photos. How often do you look at a portrait and discuss how red his hair is or how blue her shoes are?

An #excerpt is called for! The male MC and the main series antagonist are together on the "palace" rooftop after, having been guarded discretely by praetorian guards...

Cyanic ... pointed downhill into the city with compact binoculars. "A day angel in the air. He has a long lens."

"I want to see them and any articles before they're published," she said.

Em, who also guarded us, launched herself toward someone who might regret flying this afternoon.

No. I don't have wings.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 610 — What are the most significant sounds we hear in your WIP? For example, it could be the sounds of nature or the noises of a bustling town.

In Mars Needed Women, in the dome habitats that are built both on the surface and in excavated tunnels:

  • Utter and complete silence, which a recent woman imported from Earth would definitely notice. It is nothing like living in the Lakeshore arcology she was raised in outside of Chicago. It's a pressure in the ears when May Ri thinks about it. Loneliness would sound like that.
  • In May Ri's vicinity, a hungry infant or the complaint of a toddler wanting more attention.
  • Ventilation.
  • The weak whistle of a Martian dust storm through the shroom-brick walls of the habitats.
  • In some places, machinery excavating.
  • In farm domes, the hiss and shish of sprinklers and misters.
  • People's voices when in the corridors.
  • The wonderful sound their bed makes when her husband is home for the half-dozen intermittent weeks a year when he's off assignment.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 609 — Can you tell us about a secret that your antagonist / villain is willing to take to the grave?

She's the type who confesses things to those she loves, or students she becomes familiar with. It has served her well, if for nothing else as to test people's trustworthiness, or to see what it makes of them. One day, she might find someone to replace herself, so she can retire. What she hasn't confessed is the mortal wounds she's inflicted on the planet. The original cuts weren't her fault, mind you. Nobody trained her in applied climatology, which was before anybody realized such a science could be necessary.

It was. She failed a few times. Learning curves can be as sharp as the curve of a saber.

Maybe if she admitted it, she might find more people who could help her keep humanity from going extinct. To the extent that she hinted heavily, they nearly killed her regardless of her holding her finger in the dike, staving off destruction.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2503.10 — How do you handle the physical strain of writing?

The only physical strain is sleeplessness caused by the current story insisting on writing itself at 3 AM. How do I handle it? Not well? I tried writing when I couldn't sleep. That proved productive, but not effective as far as the "strain" went. Trying to sleep means groggy days. Not considering giving up writing fiction, tho.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WordWeavers 2503.10 — What is the most useful skill your SC has?

This is highly esoteric even for her world. She was able to fight the main series antagonist (who was mind controlled at that time) and survive to tell the tale. This good-feels short tootfic, Reframing the Experience, helps put Bolt's dilemma in perspective for her.

eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/11249791

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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Eldritch CaféRS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe)> #PennedPossibilities 324 — SC POV: If you could relive one day of your life without changing anything that happened, which day would you choose? Tootfic: **Reframing the Experience** [*When my SC says armor, it's really a weightless magical exoskeleton that melds with her body. It looks like blackened bones, because it is. —R.S.*] Oh, there's plenty of days I'd relive unchanged. Like the day I fledged, when I first flew on my own. Or the day learned the thrill of hauling things through the sky. Both good events in a rather dull and awful childhood that turned to cinders when my parents disapproved of the way I wanted to live my life. Said I aimed for the dirt not the sky. Maybe they weren't so dumb—I ended up badly, flying messages for a crime boss over a dozen years. But, then, there was that day last week... I've told you a few times how I ended up with the armor and a new job training as a pretorian, you know, having faced down the greatest thaumaturge who ever lived, having nearly killed her. Impressed her. I thought. Well, my drill instructor was training me that dawn. I wore the armor. The thaumaturge dove at me, full speed. She's a monster flier, taller, more massive, immortal. I jumped into the sky. Fled. She followed. Though the armor let me fly like a sparrow, change direction in a heartbeat, and take a thumping only slightly changing my course, it had been *her* armor once. She kept appearing before me, striking at my face or heart, sending me into spins toward the ground, stalling me out, almost panicking me into flying into trees or buildings. For all her mass and the inertia that implies, I barely avoided her, half the time with her cackling at my barrel rolls or dives that sent down feathers flying. She had muscle; I tired despite the armor until I thought my heart would burst from my chest, at which point a flyby pitched me into the ground. I skid across the running track on my belly right up to my instructor. I don't know how I didn't break a wing or my neck. Ok, I do: The Armor. She landed beside me with a loud thump. She wasn't even winded! She told him, "She lacks stamina. Train her harder." She leaned down until her face was in my face. I smelled maple syrup on her breath. She said, "You need to use the magic in the armor. There's a class at first bell in the Ivory building, room B7. Shower and be there ON TIME." I have wings. I don't do magic. I showered though, once my legs stopped shaking. I slunk into the class still half-frightened out of my wits. My new friend was there, the curse breaker, a former prizefighter, the one I'd fought beside against *Her,* that ended up with me getting the armor. It was some sort of advanced special Ed class for mages. I suddenly felt totally inadequate and I cried. Me. At the age of 27, I cried telling her my story, pointing to my purpling bruises, complaining that had *She* gotten in a good strike *She* would have caved in my rib cage. My friend was having none of it. She said, "You're a day angel who just went ten minutes fighting *Her.* Somehow, you're still alive." I hadn't thought about it that way. I later learned the word, "Reframing." The instructor came in with a truckload of tomes and grimoires. *She* had prepared him for me. He gave me a magic primer. I knew it was a primer because it had PICTURES of youngsters playing. Despite the stares of the other students, I read the book. Half hour later, I got the armor to glow dull red, like iron out of a forge. Truly. Awesome. Didn't know what it did except look intimidating, but still... Awesome. I felt my heart grow large in my chest, and it struck me. Someone (okay, the ruler of the nation) wanted me for who I was and who I could become, and because I was capable. *She* wanted me to aim for the sky. My new friend supported me and pushed me forward. I *liked* this, who I was, what I was finding I could be, could become. And. Oddly. I realized, for what it was worth, my parents would approve. (And flap them if they didn't!) Best. Day. *Ever.* [Author retains copyright (c)2024 R.S.] #BoostingIsSharing and #CommentingIsCool #fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #RSdiscussion #RSstory #RSReluctanceStory #microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory
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#WordWeavers 2503.09 — Could you survive a day in your MC’s shoes?

At the furthest point that I've written in Mars Needed Women, she seems permanently stuck on Mars. She was actually shanghaied to fulfill a contract she signed. By the same contract, she had to marry and now has two nisei (first generation) Martian daughters. Despite it all, she's stable at the moment though the colony itself, part of the now bankrupt and in receivership EM Mars company, is on a slow burn toward failure.

Could I survive a day?

Yes. The domes are safe and food production is reliable, though living in ⅓ gravity does pose issues keeping earth-relative strength and tone. May Ri did get to choose her mandated husband, from a limited stock, and apparently lucked out, so that's not too bad. But caring for a toddler and an infant? I don't have her patience or her acceptance of the situation that comes with having been brought up in (and ofttimes rebelling against) her deeply patriarchal and hypocritically religious society. As a #feminist author who lived through our women's movement, I'd be full of resentment (as I am rapidly becoming these days IRL), which would interfere with what she needs to accomplish in the next few chapters as the main character.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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The web novel starts here: eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/11408894

Eldritch CaféRS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe)> 2503.01 — Women #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera ## Mars needed women. May Ri bought into the hype and the spiel, not realizing it was the last gasp of a long dead oligarch's dream. When the money dried up, nobody would finance the supply missions. Who cared about the ten thousand up there when you could outrage the millions down here with something less expensive? Earthers returned to their petty games of slavery—that wasn't called as such—and empire that ate nations. On Mars, colonists were pushed to their limits: The terraforming mission, the domes, the spinlauncher and Deimosbase, the raising the first and second generation martians. Men died disproportionately. In the end, a few strongmen attempted to corner the growing "female resource" to their benefit and to the benefit their sons, working to crush the whisper of the half-forgotten promise of democracy that had followed May Ri to the planet of war. She and her daughters led the way, fighting. Together with "sisters" and with "aunts," they redefined *which* gender would be considered a "resource." They found that the blood of the ever-absent fathers spilled on the rusty regolith of Mars blended in nicely. Earthers were outraged. #RSMarsNeededWomen 01 [Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.] #BoostingIsSharing and #CommentingIsCool #gender #fiction #writer #author #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers #RSdiscussion #RSstory #RSInklingsStory #RSReluctanceStory #microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory
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#WordWeavers 2503.08 — Which one of your characters is in the least safe situation?

I left off Reluctant Accomplice with the devil-girl massaging the back of a dragon at a hot springs-like spa built inside a gravity fold. She's crawling on him while he's considering whether he really needs to go through with working with her for the sake of all of dragon kind, or whether it would be safer to splat her against a wall.

I rewrote a snippet of that chapter from her POV for a sample story in his POV here: Ms George and the Dragon

eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/11060359

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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Eldritch CaféRS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe)#WritingWonders 6.24 — Antagonist POV: What do you think about the MC? **Ms. George and the...** [*Sorry. Better late than never. 😇 Brand, the POV here, is the primary antagonist in the SF story I am writing now, so I thought, why not get a feel for his thoughts, since they never show in a 1st person story? Most of the WW prompts I've answered take place half a year* after *this incident.*] Long bronze-red hair tumbled wetly down. The devil-girl looked at me from over my shoulder with expectant green eyes. She was perched on my back. Were I an average human, she'd be the size of a toddler compared to me. "It's really okay?" she asked, brightly. I lay with my face turned to my right, cheek on my arm, but managed a nod. "Yeah. Sure." She grinned like a child. She might have faintly squealed in glee, but I was sure that was my imagination. She crawled to my hips and began massaging my shoulder. The steamy alcove dripped with water. Vines grew over rocks and water cascaded down as dappled green light flicked and darted with shadows. It looked like a jungle hot spring, but was in a gravity bubble. Her kneading fingers felt strong, but she was a *worker of miracles* so I knew her strength came from more than muscle. She'd invented a new revelation on the spot for the job—doubtless. Then again, I wasn't a "devil-girl" as she called herself. Who *knew* what she really knew, or invented. Was it really okay? Was I really okay with this? Beyond her cheeky insistence on physical contact? I needed her to help me save my world from her world. Lives depended on it. I'd spent twelve decades balancing intuition against careful decision. You didn't grow to my size or win my position without breaking egos, and breaking heads. Yet. Not half an hour ago... I'd been walking with my hand on her shoulder. My weight could drill her into the ground. Conversationally, she'd been pointing through a window at our newly arrived companions. In doing so, she'd turned me around twice, managing to stretch me out—and she over balanced me. She ducked, moving explosively. When I reached, she rolled forcing me to hop as she came around, bouncing to her feet, and bounding out of reach. I did not miss her darting, evaluating eyes. My body still in motion, she came up in a three-point stance as I reached reflexively (not smartly) her direction. A blue-green misty gravity shield bloomed between us, crackling and spitting sparks, smelling of ozone and humming. She anchored her miraculous wonder into the gravity-glass floor; I piled into it, like a sack of meat. The shield grated against the floor as I pushed it and her back, but not far. She'd properly gauged my aged lack of flexibility and had tricked me into twisting to reach. Inertia slid me shoulder first onto the floor with thump. Considering how little I'd pushed her back, I judged she could easily levitate my weight with what force she'd *deigned* to demonstrate. I understood I was lucky to be alive. Her eye movements—and how her predator eyes watched me grind to a stop—told me she could have swept my legs with gravity differentials coming down, meaning I'd have thrown myself into a wall face first. She would have had had plenty of time for an axe-strike to my groin. As I'd have keeled over uncontrollably, I would have exposed my belly. (I'd been sold on her when I'd learned she could perform the *Impossible Revelation*; she had a limiter around her neck, but the device only prevented her from appearing in bank vaults and such places.) Falling on my back, even with her average human weight, she could have finished by stomping my wing joints. I'd have balled up in pain, or passed out cold. She could have slayed me. I might have rolled over on her, though. My pride insisted that much, anyway. *Capable.* I had purchased her services last year from the mobster who'd claimed she owned her. *Her* sharp tool. I knew the devil-girl was *capable.* Pricey, but capable. The mobster had died, and I knew for a fact that I was the first dragon the devil-girl had ever met. We had a common enemy, though, so she'd consented to remain my prisoner, for the time being. Intuition told me to kill her, while she *acted* like a little girl, playing at massaging her big guy doll. *Catch her off guard*, intuition demanded. *Crush her against the rock wall. Turn her into a red splash.* But— She. Could. Work. *Miracles.* A world, my world, depended on her doing so. I said, "A little to the right." My worker of miracles, my sharp tool with a blade for a hilt, said, "Yes, boss!" and giggled as her feet dug in and she shifted over. [Author retains copyright(c) 2023 by R.S.] #BoostingIsSharing #CommentingIsCool #fiction #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #microfiction #shortfiction #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon
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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2503.08 — Happy International Women’s Day! What female author has inspired you the most?

Andre Norton, though I didn't learn she was a woman until after I'd finished most of her books. Thinking of the author, I had imagined another male author writing often about women, albeit a Latino—then had a whole new appreciation when I learned the truth. Gender does add a subtext to your writing. She was a real pioneer who did what a woman had to do to succeed back then. After I'd joined SFWA, I missed a couple of opportunities to meet her in person, but because of my shyness didn't. I will forever regret my lack of courage and mourn her passing.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 608 — Does your MC have any nicknames?

Since people name themselves, nicknames are pretty rare. Most people faced with friends or colleagues that give them an adorable or inspiring name, would often simply use that one instead. When a set of triplets (Cloud Dancer, Meadow Dancer, and Dusk Dancer) discovered they had a half-sister by the same father, and they became good friends, they started calling her Fire Dancer. That's the name she goes by now. ("Dancer" looks like a surname, but isn't.)

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WordWeavers 2503.07 — Which one of your characters is in the safest situation?

Ignoring lots of secondary and background characters living much less risky lives, and focusing on the passages last written: The pair of high school seniors, MCs in Reluctant Moon. They didn't get caught making out (to put it mildly), and are now hurrying off to make it on time to their homeroom classes.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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#WordWeavers 2503.06 — Are any of your characters trying to change the world?

If "trying" is the keyword, then only the reluctance series antagonist is. She's trying desperately to keep humanity alive while the planet and a dwindling population is causing it to go extinct. Various other characters end up changing the world, mostly because they're forced by circumstance to do so.

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