FREE!!! Everybody Loves Free Stuff!!!

So, who has anything against free stuff? I know that I certainly don't. I live for giveaways, contests, try-me-outs and any other way to get free stuff. Which brings me to the reason for this particular blog. You see, there are more than 70 books waiting to be snatched up by some lucky people.

A great group called Indie Books Be Seen has come up with the idea of their first annual Secret Santa Indie Book Giveaway Contest. There are some fantastic books available, including The Last Ranger of Sarn AND Blood Moon Sacrifice. Yeah baby, I'm sending both to the cause.
But let's examine why indie books are better than regular author books. The reasons are fairly obvious, but the majority of folks just don't see them.
1) Indie authors are new and exciting. They have stuff you just have not seen before. Steven King is great, but after all this time, you can almost tell it's his work even without seeing his name.
2) Indie books are usually less expensive. We need to get readers, so big price tags are like poison to us for now. Once I can afford a cabin in the woods where I can do my writing, I'll tack on another ten to twenty bucks per title.

3) Indies have new characters. For those that enjoy series-type tales, isn't it time to go out and meet new friends? How much fun can the party be when it's the same faces year in and year out? This is not to say kick your old friends to the curb, just broaden your social circles.
4) Indie authors deserve love too. We sit and write day after day, week after week, just to get a single book out. Most of the time we do all our own editing, all our own proofreading and in many cases, even our own covers. That is frikkin' dedication. We're doing this for a different reason than well-established writers.
We do it for love. We don't do it for a fan-base. Or to pay the mortgage on that cabin in the woods where we write in the blissful solitude of nature. We don't do it to fulfill the demands of publishers and agents. We do it because we have all these voices in our heads that demand to be heard. We do it because we love to oblige them.

We write for kids, pre-teens, teens, young adults, old adults, cranky adults, and anybody that can read. We even write for the lucky few at the start of life (or closer to the end of it) that have someone to read to them. We write about our lives, other people's lives, our dog's life and the risque tales of Fifi the Ruffled Guinea Pig's life. We write about real things, imagined things, true events and some weird space shit that might just happen one day.
We write to make you smile, cry, laugh and more importantly, to touch you in a way you'll remember for a lifetime. Not in an inappropriate way, despite what some of you might want, but on an emotional level that you've not felt before. In a way you'll demand to be touched again. That is what indie writers bring to the table. And they bring it every time!
So, what I want you to do is very simple. I want you to go to the Secret Santa Indie Book Giveaway and show support for the indie community. Say "Hell yes! I want a free book damnit!" and enter the contest. Then, read the book and remember this. The best way to thank an author is to leave a review. Nothing elaborate, unless you happen to work for the reviews at the New York Times Bestsellers List, but just a few words about what you liked.
Thanks for your time and remember, have a safe and happy holiday season!

Milestones

Well, today I have reached a milestone in my life. I have reached the ripe age of 60. To all of you folks that have also reached this milestone and made the statement "I don't feel 60", screw you! I want you to know, I feel 60! Physically that is. My friggin' knees hurt, my back hurts and yeah, there's a little dry skin!
The worst part to this is that mentally, my age ranges from 17 to about 24. This means I see stuff and I want to do it. That's when my support group comes in. My wife who warns me about breaking a hip, my daughter who giggles exuberantly and tells me "you're silly Daddy" and of course, Noob the wonder dog who runs me down the street. He can't talk so that's his way of saying "stop it old man".

There are certain advantages to age though. For instance, I can be goofy (er) in public now and people think it's cute. I can also just speak my mind and not worry about being politically correct or worrying about hurting the feelings of some overly-sensitive little prick.
I can wear what I want for the most part without wondering if it's hip. Virtually EVERYTHING I wear is hip...well, it was in other time periods. I'm just pissed that I threw away my paisley-print Nehru jacket! Now THAT would have been one helluva fashion statement.
I've gotten lots of well-wishes from my very dear friends on FaceBook. I actually know some of them too! Same with all my other social networks. I have more birthday greetings than I know what to do with. At the same time, I can fake being confused and let thanking everybody wait for a few days. That seems to be the secret weapon of the elderly...one of them at least. I'm learning them quickly and I have to say, old people have been pulling this shit and completely fooling the world.

For instance, whenever I fly or use the train now, I carry my cane. I don't need it, but I found that if an older man carries one, nobody rushes them and the better seats are usually up for grabs. The first time my son met me at the airport and I had my cane, he freaked out and immediately took my bag. As soon as I told him the reasons behind it, he handed it back to me. Another ploy is to stand in the middle of the aisle at the supermarket and squint at the boxes. You can expect someone to grab your shopping list and fill your cart in minutes. With any luck, you can hear them cursing your loved ones for not taking better care of you.
Admittedly, my eyes have gone south from all the computer working, so I wear reading glasses. Not real reading glasses, the ones you get in the dollar store. Just the same, I can say I don't have my glasses and get people to read to me. Yes, old folks have been playing us for years.

But to be fair, there are limits now that I didn't have before. Roller-coasters are out now. In fact, anything that spins, twists, zips or loops is out. Log flume rides are still working for me though. Swimming is a little different too. I used to be able to swim the length of a pool underwater. Now, I'm lucky if I can do a quarter of the pool. I'm pretty sure that's a result of cigarettes, but still, if not for all the years I spent smoking them I'd be fine.
I quit smoking four years ago and got my taste buds back. Now I just wonder if food tastes bad because I'm old or because it always tasted like that and I just didn't know. I can climb stairs without sounding like Darth Vader now, but my knees hurt when I get done.
There are pros and cons to getting old, just like everything else. It sounds odd, but the longer you've lived, the more memories you have. I'm not sure if they seem so great because you can remember them or because they are reminders that you've done so many great things.
Your common sense takes over when you get older too. If something is stupid (planking, ass-level waistbands, skateboarding down steps), you realize it's stupid no matter how many people do it. Instead, you get to remember the stupid things you've done in your life and thank your maker that you are still alive.

You get to retire too. No more getting up to drag your ass to work. You can do whatever you want or nothing at all. You can wear pajamas all day and nobody can say anything because, you've earned the right!
So when they bring out that birthday cake tonight, and the candles are so bright that the space station reports seeing them, I'll be one happy old geezer. I've lived a good life, grew up in a great place with tons of friends, made lots of choices, some good and some not so good but none regretted and forged the life that was best for me.
Now, as this article slips to the ending, I'm going to put on Frank Sinatra singing "My Way", grab my cane and glasses and make my way to the supermarket to get some young chippie to do my shopping for me. After that, I might go to the park and toss a chicken sandwich to the squirrels and eat some peanuts.

North Carolina is NOT Florida

So, part one of my move is finished and New York is just a bad memory. Wonderful people have accepted us here in North Carolina till we get straightened out, but North Carolina itself is not holding her arms open for us. She is however, holding her hands open for us to drop money in. It seems, nothing comes easy in NC.

North Carolina is a beautiful state. There's no mistaking that. Even though there is no tar on my heels or even on my soles for that matter, I can see the untapped potential for a writer here.
The scenery is spectacular, and the people are all so nice. Of course, it could be a sugar rush from the sweet tea, but I'm raring to go. I'm waiting to take in everything, and eventually I'll get to it. But, there are a few dozen things I need to do before I can explore.
There is the North Carolina DMV lurking over my shoulders, just waiting for me to attempt to even start my car. The ticket books are poised.
At least that is what I'm told. I am not yet ready to find out either. I firmly believe that you should live somewhere for at least a year before you obtain a criminal status. That's where New York screwed up. I wasn't there more than four hours before cops started handing me tickets.

It was as if radar went off somewhere and the warning of an out-of-state license filled all of them with visions of monthly ticket quotas. They flocked to me, setting road-blocks and bringing the dogs out to track me. They even had the boat cops patrolling the shoreline just in case.
I got 3 bullshit tickets for no registration, no insurance and no license. Not that we didn't have all of that, we just didn't have it with us. So just provide proof and the ticket gets dropped. Right.
We provided proof TWICE and now, 11 years later, they are still there. Yes, New York has a special kind of ineptitude.
Now in Florida, where I will be in a few months, I can go to the DMV and surrender my PA license, show proof of identity, pay $48.00 and walk out with a new Florida license. In North Carolina, I have to surrender my PA license, take the driver's test, pay at least $200.00 or better and then get a new NC license. Guess who ain't getting a NC license?
My wife is a licensed CNA. New York has the strictest guidelines and tests to get that license. In Florida, all she has to do is fill out paperwork and transfer it. In North Carolina, she has to fill out paperwork, take the test (which costs $101.00...don't ask what the extra fucking dollar is for) and maybe get a new license. Guess who ain't getting a NC CNA certificate?

 I'm not quite sure what all this money is for. The website says, these funds go towards keeping the state sales-tax free. My friends say they pay sales tax. They pay property tax, income tax, pet tax, car tax, school tax and sales tax. They pay taxes out the wazoo.
Somebody is making a lot of money, but it's not going where it's supposed to go. You should know, that I expect the government to steal. I expect them to steal the pennies from a dead man's eyes, but goddamnit, you need to give a break somewhere. You have to. Otherwise, you're no longer stealing like a well-dressed governmental career criminal, you're just a common mugger. A filthy mugger.
Now in Florida, I'm pretty sure the government officials steal too. However, they do have no sales tax. You need to throw the people a bone. North Carolina needs to figure this out yet. But you can't blame them. This is probably new to them...after all, North Carolina is the home of the legendary Mayberry. Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Fife.

Andy, Barney, Opie and Aunt Bea gave the people in the dirt-boxes of Philadelphia, New York and Boston a look at the quaint life-style of North Carolina. In all honesty, I didn't really expect Mayberry when I planned this. Hell, I wasn't even expecting Mount Pilot.
But life outside of Raleigh is the same as life outside of Manhattan. Just hotter. And every bit as greedy. And that just doesn't sit well with the memories of that beautiful little town we all loved so much. It's what happens when you let Otis, Floyd and Goober pick the elected officials. It's just wrong.
But, Florida is the next and final stop for my crazy train. It's where I've wanted to be for the last ten years and now, it's on the horizon. The sights and sounds of the Cuban community, the celebrities on South Beach, swimmin' pools, movie stars...oh wait, that's Beverly Hills. But Florida is where I'm heading. We'll be living in Hialeah, laughing at the scenes of those New York winters and at the open hands of the greedy North Carolina DMV.

Marketing Yourself

I read an interesting blog the other day about marketing. It seems, I have been promoting instead of marketing myself and my books. There's a difference.

The marketing guru says to find something that is consistent in each book and then apply it to yourself. Like "The writer who talks about love" or "The writer of battles". So I looked through my books and came up with a few. There's "The writer with hands", "The writer who writes stuff" and my favorite at the time, "The writer that has pages".
Pretty snappy huh? Don't be a hater, those titles didn't fall into my lap...I worked hard for them. Granted, I did have hands before I started writing, but I didn't use them for writing until after I started writing.

Still, I wasn't satisfied. Those were nice, but they didn't really tell the world who I was, what I did. I thought harder and came up with "The writer that drinks coffee" and "The writer that uses a laptop". Again, both fine choices but absolutely not perfect for me.
Now it was getting serious. I had no identity of my own. I was doomed to walk the planet as simply "the old guy that owns Noob the Wonder Dog". It was not going to inspire people to read my books unless Noob growled at them. I needed to brainstorm.
I spent hours watching TV, hoping for a smackerel of inspiration, a dollop of genius...a smidgen of brain activity. Then it hit me...I was watching a "My Little Pony" marathon. The ponies were slowly but surely sapping my brain stem functions. Instead of being "The writer with higher brain functions", there was a strong possibility I would go through life as the leader of Team Fluttershy.

I was getting frantic. If I couldn't think of something soon, I would be no better than the Justice League...highly anticipated and probably horrible. I was downcast, trodden and generally feeling blue.
My hopes and dreams were about to be bashed against the rocks by the angry waves of the marketing seas. I returned to my books and scoured them for a clue as to who I was. Even my muses...writers have muses as opposed to crazy people who have voices in their heads...even my muses were mocking me now. I could hear them giggling.
Then it happened. It. The defining moment of my literary career. The inspiration of inspirations, the shining beacon on the hill, the one thing everybody wants...I got a fan letter. It was an email, but it was from a fan and goddamnit, it was mine! I toyed with making it full screen and nailing the laptop to the wall, but I figured it would be a drag to keep refreshing it. But here it is in all its inspiring awesomeness.

"I just finished The Last Ranger of Sarn and it was wonderful. You make the characters come alive. I can't wait to read more."
Huh? Isn't that something? My fan base came to my rescue. I love that lady. There was my identity, the person the literary world would know me as... "The writer that got fan mail"! HA! Now I know what Elvis felt like, what The Beatles felt like. I wondered if I would have to get a disguise when I went to Shop-Rite for milk now.
My public was out there, waiting for their chance to be around "The writer that got fan mail". It was dizzying! Even Noob the Wonder Dog was impressed. I could tell because he licked his nuts extra clean for our walk.
Yet there was still no recognition from the populace. I figured it was time to get serious, turn off the Pony marathon and get to work. She said my characters came alive. I started looking through reviews and sure enough, every book had a review that stated the characters were the kind that you felt for, cared about, believed in, ect. There was the common bond between four high fantasy, two crime dramas and one collection of short stories.
If one wanted to market themselves, attention to details and research into character development were good things to build on. The characters in all of my books read like real people because, in essence, they are exactly that. The character of Fire in my Chronicles of the Free People Series is based on my wife. She's quiet yet strong when need be and she has a heart of gold. Sal DeSantos, the hit man in Crime Scene is a blend of my Uncle Frank and a couple of guys I hung around with as a ne'er-do-well youth.
My characters are very alive to me. Maybe that's why they come across to my readers as so lifelike. I also happen to think that the more you care about a character, the more you'll keep turning pages to see what happens to them. So the marketing wheel turned again and it stopped at the one I hope will catch on... Ed Ireland, The Author that creates people.
I thought it had a nice flow to it. It says what I do in a unique way and should be a very marketable title to work with. Now I just need to get my fan base into a group that needs a bus to get around instead of a scooter.

The Joys of Moving

Well, the much anticipated move is finally here. We're moving, lock, stock and barrel from the center of Long Island to Hialeah, Fl.
Maybe...
The move is supposed to happen at the end of August when our lease runs out. I say supposed to, because this is getting crazy. There are so many things to do. We've shopped around for ways to do this and have settled on getting a storage container to fill with all our worldly goods and then send off to sunny Hialeah. We all decided that the drive will be a study on insanity with a four year old in a child seat.

Therefore, we will be taking the auto train. This marvel of engineering will save us a ton of driving time and even more brain cells. Unfortunately, the train does not load in New York. Or in New Jersey. The train loads in Lorton, Virginia. It starts loading at 11:30 AM. Last car taken is at 3:00 PM and the train leaves at 4:00.
Now, according to MapQuest, this little jaunt from my home to Lorton takes 4 hours and 43 minutes. Not bad right? The only problem is that there have been times when it has taken me 4 hours to get from Brooklyn to my house. The plan we're working with now is to leave here at midnight and drive through the night. Best case scenario is that we miss all the traffic and arrive in beautiful Lorton at around 5:00 AM. Worst case scenario is that somewhere along the way, the traffic gods throw a wrench into our well-oiled machine.
But, we are confidant that the roads will be fine and we'll get there at a good time. The next problem is that it arrives in Sanford, Florida and spits out all the cars. Again, according to MapQuest, the ride from Sanford to Hialeah is just under four hours. I have no frame of reference for the roads in Florida but somehow, I suspect this time frame is another joke. But this is still the best way to get there.
So, we have the apartment contents taken care of and we have ourselves taken care of. Everything is good right? Wrong.

Remember when trains used to haul animals? We know they did from many sources such as the Three Stooges. We saw them on trains with the king of beasts and monkeys.
Lo and behold, they don't haul animals anymore. No more putting your lion in the baggage cars when you travel by rail. So now, the problem arises with getting Anubis the wonder dog there. Not to mention the two cats that together have more needs than a combined orphanage and home for unwed mothers. Now I have to get these three stooges of my own to Florida. So, now it's time for Pet Travel services.
You just know, this is not going to be simple. Pets are more pampered in American than in every other country combined. We have thousands of different foods for them, thousands of toys to keep their little brains happy and we'll even dress them as ballerinas and the Pope if it strikes our fancy. So there are two methods to transport your pets.
You can hire a chauffeur to drive them there. They'll pick them up and transport the darlings for a nominal fee. The problem is, they often transport a lot of other pets and have a lot of stops. There's no reason for Noob and his partners in crime to visit Tennessee on the way here. Besides, the way my luck goes, they'll drop Noob off to a hunter in the Ozarks and leave me an even stupider dog.

The second method is a gem. They fly and arrive there long before I do. So now, I need someone to go to the airport and pick them up. Of course, they won't know the person and they'll freak out, possibly causing even more brain-damage to themselves.
And the costs are staggering. The one price I have so far is higher than all of us AND the car going by rail. Really?
Because of these three, I might have to drive the entire distance myself. Of course the non-pet people have already told me to "just put them up for adoption and get new ones down there". They just don't get it.
Noob the wonder dog might be stupid and half brain-dead, but he's MY dumb dog. Same thing with the needy, pain-in-the-ass cats. I have time invested. Where am I going to find another cat that will ambush me while I write and head-butt my glasses off? Or a cat that drools puddles while you pet him? And then there's Noob. You tell me where I'll find another dog that ends up in the corner on his head and chewing on his back leg. You think that kind of dull grows on trees?
The joys of moving are just another way for life to provide stimulation to our lives. Like putting a new truck tire in the gorilla enclosure at the zoo. We get to inspect this stimuli, touch it, sniff it and finally climb into it. Sometimes, like the gorilla we'll swing contently.
The other times, we'll lose control, fall and split our heads open on the ground. And our stupid dogs will lay next to us and lick their nuts.

The Intelligence of Readers

I've been following a discussion the last few days on one of my writer groups about naming characters. For my part, I want my readers to set my book down after reading it and feel as if they know my characters on a personal level. Kind of like they met them at the Harrison's pool party last month. I'm of the opinion that well thought out characters elevate the story by making it a bit more personal.

My characters have personalities and personality can only be full if you know certain events that formed that personality. Real people don't have insecurities for the hell of it. Events caused them and the people around them either fed them and grew them or helped the character lessen them. So not only does the character have center stage, but all the other characters that made him or her the way they are need their spot as well.
I name my characters for several reasons. They are directly involved with the main character as a love interest, a guiding figure, a friend figure or a nemesis figure.
So taking my first novel, the main character is Vespias Firstlight. Her world was shaped by her parents Vesperis and Vashnir. In the society they come from, the first child usually has a name that mimics the father. She also had three younger siblings, Veron, Vashira and Windsong. Veron was named after his grandfather who also contributed to the children's growth as did his wife Yava. They were the parents of Vashnir who was the third of eight children.

So before two chapters are through, the character list is at nine, simply because I only named two of the other seven children that Veron and Yava had.
The main message that I'm getting is that a lot of writers don't name as many characters because they "don't want to confuse" their readers. To me, what is being said is "my readers are too stupid to follow character interactions".
If you go to a friend's house one day and they introduce you to their family, does it throw you for a loop? Of course not. What it does, is give you a frame of reference for when they relate a story from their youth. A story might be funny because when the character talks about the stupid look on their brother's face, knowing the face helps to make the story funnier. Knowing what role supporting characters have in the protagonist's life makes it that much easier to accept the fictional character as being real. Once that is established, their story is that much better.

I just find it odd that a writer would think of his readers as stupid, or at least lacking the intelligence to understand who is who and the amount of importance they carry. I like to think my readers are smart. Very smart. Genius-level smart. The smarter my readers are, the smarter it makes me because I can keep them entertained. I can spark an intelligent person's imagination and speak to them on intelligent levels.
I like to think of myself as intelligent. Certainly above the neanderthal stage of evolution. And as a member of the intelligent portion of society, why would I ever want to write for the other ones? You know, the people that only buy books with pictures. To me, to dumb down your work because you think your readers can't handle what amounts to normal life is in itself...well, to put it mildly, stupid.
Even stupid people remember the people in their life. To say that readers can't follow characters in a book implies that they are extraordinarily stupid. Epically stupid.
Thankfully, not every writer thinks this way. Writers want you to feel the full experience of their work. At least I do. I want my readers to feel the joy and pain my characters feel. I want them to smile when good things happen.
I had a reader yell at me when a character died because it made her cry. She cried at a fictional character's fictional death. She threatened to never forgive me if I didn't find a way to bring him back. To me, that was a big, fat EXCELLENT! To bring emotions to my readers is what I want. To elicit an emotion like sorrow means I made that character real enough and human enough for my reader to see him or her as a real person. And I did it by using my readers intelligence, not by thinking they're stupid.

The Problems With Wicca

In case anybody doesn't know, I happen to be Wiccan. Wiccan as in card-carrying, spell-casting witch. I take my faith seriously and I have often been involved in debates about the way my faith is portrayed. Basically, they all break down to "it's my life and I can do what I want" arguments. My point is and always has been, that at the current state of Wiccan acceptance, you have to look at the bigger picture and if it means sacrificing your "freedoms" a bit, isn't your faith worth that?

A recent debate with a well-known figure was a prime example of this. My point was simply that we as a whole, have a responsibility to the Wiccan Community as a whole to help bring our faith to the mainstream.
I tried explaining that the greater majority of Wiccans cannot dress in ritual clothes as a daily choice, cannot practice their faith in public and cannot even tell others what their faith is.
I tried explaining that many Wiccans are still under the threat of losing their job, losing their homes, losing their children...all because of the fear America holds still. Fear that isn't diminished at all when one of our own appear on television drinking from a skull, rattling bones and generally looking every inch the Halloween witch.
Appearance is everything. There are a ton of religious figures that are 100% bat-shit crazy, but since they dress normally, they are accepted. Even when their ignorance and viciousness are made public, their religion is still accepted.
That is the point of everything. Wicca is not accepted yet and as part of this faith, it falls to all of us to help the image of Wicca. I'm not saying don't appear on television in ritual robes, but try to be a little cognoscente of how you'll be portrayed. Think about the show you'll be on and think about why they want you. Are you prepared to screw over hundreds of thousands of your fellow Wiccans who can't express themselves the way you can?

If you say the word discrimination in America today, the first thing that comes to mind is racial discrimination. Then, gender discrimination or sexual discrimination. Religious discrimination is almost never thought of here.
The truth of the matter is, that Wicca was not even recognized as a religion by the U.S. Government until 1985. The pentagram, the symbol of our faith, was not allowed in military graveyards until 2007. Once a symbol is submitted, it generally takes a few months for the V.A. to approve. In the case of the pentagram, a symbol of a "recognized" religion, it took 10 years and a damned lawsuit.
Take a look at Carole Smith, a TSA worker that was fired for her faith. Her record was spotless until her religion came out. How about Gina Uberti, an employee of Bath and Body Works. Gina had been employed for 8 years. For the last 6 years, she would take the week of Samhain off to go to Salem. She would have her time approved a year in advance. Then a new manager came to her store and pressed her for the reason she took that particular week off. When she told him why she got this response; “Well, you will need a new career in your new year” and “I will be damned if I have a devil-worshipper on my team.” 

 Several Wiccans have had their religion become a major factor in child-custody cases. While religion cannot be material in custody cases, the "harmful" ritual and coven association is called in and judges must address these issues.
There have been cases of grandparents bringing their children to court for pagan and Wiccan affiliations. There is a case in Indiana of a Judge Cale Bradford that put a stipulation in a divorce decree keeping the parents from exposing their child to "non-mainstream religious beliefs and rituals." Both parents are Wiccan.
Clearly, there is still a ton of prejudice and discrimination about Wicca and those who practice it. Wicca needs much more "good press" and no more practitioners that pander to sensationalism. The country has to see Wiccans as people that contribute to their community, not those that are out there making blood sacrifices, people that are positive and strong in their faith, not those that are willing to sell out themselves and their faith.
Wicca does not have a central figure or group that controls it. Who we are and what we are becomes the responsibility of each and every member. Some of us came out and everything worked out fine. The world around us didn't turn its back on us. Some of us are still afraid that will happen so they stay in the closet. None of us chose Wicca as a way to make money. If that was the reason, you're just another con artist and karma will have some words for you eventually.

The majority of Wiccans are the normal, everyday people in mainstream America. They are truck drivers, doctors, nurses, writers, waitresses, carpenters...any occupation you can think of. Very few of the rising population of Wiccans are shop owners in Salem, a community that is founded on a tragedy and fed by tourists dollars to keep Halloween-town up and running.
Mind me, I have nothing against Salem. I've been there several times. I'm just practical and understand that the people there have a certain image to maintain in order to keep their livelihood steady. But can any of these characters claim to represent the average witch?
The answer is a resounding no, and yet that is where the news goes when they want a Wiccan point of view. It's where TV goes when they want a Wiccan in their show. It's where the entire country looks when anyone speaks about witches. That's great for business, not so great for those trying to bring our faith away from harmful stereotypes.
There are those of us who have empathy for the number still imprisoned in their faith. Rather the lack of respect or the out-and-out fear the rest of America has for Wicca that keeps them imprisoned. Imagine the outcry if a Christian or Jewish woman in Florida that wrote children's books became a target for her faith. Imagine if her home was vandalized by having windows shot out or exploding bottles thrown at the home with as yet, unidentified liquids. Then imagine if the attacks were accompanied by the attackers yelling out "Fucking Jesus-freak" or "Fucking Jew".
The outcry would be international! The news would rush to community religious leaders for their statements on what happened and what should be done. Those things happened to Kyrja Withers, a pagan. There was no outcry from the so-called Pagan leaders. The news didn't run to Salem to gather thoughts from those that claim to be among Pagan and Wiccan hierarchy. Any guesses why? OK, I'll tell you why then.
The simple truth is, the news doesn't think anybody is important enough to talk about anything other than Halloween tales and de-hexing baseball teams. The incidents happened within sight of the police station and the investigation is "stalled" despite eye-witness accounts and descriptions of the car. So obviously, the law doesn't think that much of helping the Pagan community.

With the law unwilling to help, with people that claim themselves to be the "voice of the Pagan community" more interested in sales , then who is supposed to look out for us? Who does the job of making the country look at our faith as being legitimate fall to?
It falls to every practitioner. It falls to common sense when speaking of it to outsiders. Think about this; would the Gay Community have all the breakthroughs and success they've achieved (and Goddess knows they're still far off from total acceptance) if the people who spoke on their behalf epitomized the fear that mainstream America had of them? If the people that spoke before congress and on television were dressed as Las Vegas showgirls or looked like stereotypical and derogatory images of gay people, how much credibility do you think they would have gotten? Yes, it sounds terrible to hear it put that way, but the truth is that you are not going to ease fear...and that's all any hateful feelings are...by ramming the more flamboyant aspects down America's throat. Just like we will not advance towards acceptance by ramming our more flamboyant practitioners down America's throat.
It falls to each of us to present Wicca for what it is. A religion. Plain and simple, a religion. Nobody questions how the church carries out their mass or how the synagogs carry out their services. If a religion is accepted, those things are secondary and non-issues. Those should not be addressed unless it's to correct a fallacy like human or animal sacrifices.
It falls to the common among us to answer questions honestly. Without a business to support, that should be easy. It falls to the people who are questioned to let go of their wallets and start telling the media how it really is. It falls to them to either help the Pagan and Wiccan community or stop acting like they care.
It falls to those who have come out, to help and support those that can't. It falls on the Pagan community to become a little more united and start throwing our numbers around. It falls on us to be a little bolder and tell that political system that we vote against them en mass unless they start to support and protect our community.
It falls to us to do all of these things and to stick to them. Yes, if I see bullshit I call it. If that ostracizes me from the community, who cares. My Goddess knows what I did and why I did it. I have nothing to apologize for.