Debunking the Base Model Human

There is this idea in mainstream fiction, in film, books, plays, all mediums – and therefore, to some extent, in our own minds – of a Base Model Human. The Base Model Human is, roughly in order of importance, male, white, straight, able-bodied, early 20s to late 40s, middle class, speaks English, of average intelligence, graduated high school and possibly college, is Christian or Christian-compatible … and the like. Any deviation from this model is seen as an add-on, like a feature amended to the Base Model to make them something else. For instance, I have heard some writers say that when they are developing a character, they may start with a Base Model Human and decide after the basic characteristics are set if that character needs to be a woman, or a person of color, elderly, poor, etc. More than one director has openly said they don’t strive for diversity, unless the story actively needs it, or there is an outside reason to make a character anything but a Base Model Human. This isn’t just an enormous logical fallacy, it’s substandard writing.First of all, let’s take a cursory look at what percentage of the population, just in the US, is actual Base Model Human. These statistics are from the US census in 2015, found here: . I am rounding to the nearest tenth. 50.8% of the population is female, so 49.2% is male. 61.6% are white and non-Hispanic. That gives us 30.3% of the total population that are white males. Now let’s take out anyone of the LGBT, nonbinary, nonheteronormative, etc. spectrum, which make up about 2% of the population, a conservative estimate. 29.7%. 60% of them are not minors under 18, or seniors over 65. We’re down to 17.8%. Able-bodied? Some estimates put disabilities or chronic medical conditions at 20% of the population – consider that disabilities include hidden problems like depression, bipolar disorder, autism, etc. But let’s be super conservative and say 10%, for the sake of argument. That gives us about 16%. Let’s stick with that number. And we’re not even taking into account people who live in crushing poverty, people without education, people of religions other than Christianity, incarcerated people – we’re being very generous with our numbers.

The United States has a population of about 319 million. That’s 319,000,000. 16% of that is 51,040,000, or about 51 million. That means there are 267,960,000, or nearly 268 million people, that do not fit the Base Model Human design. And yet, somehow, they are considered modifications on the default. To put those numbers into perspective … in a random sampling of the population of the United States, in a group of 25, there would be 4 Base Model Humans. They are a minority. They have just been billed by mainstream media as “the most normal”. But it isn’t true.

Humans DO NOT HAVE a default model, especially when seen in a global context, not just the United States, when the population of Base Model Humans plummets to a single digit percentage of the global population. There are three major reasons to make a disproportionate number of characters in any media – film, books, theater, documentary, whatever – Base Model Humans. One, active bigotry, naturally. Of course. Two, money – you think keeping your characters as “default” as possible will make it more popular and net you greater revenue. “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” and “Rogue One” tromped THAT idea into the dirt. Three, ignorance: you really do believe in the Base Model Human. This is an indicator that you, as an artist, have not spent enough time considering the breadth of the human experience. 

The last one is surprising in how prevalent it is, which goes to show how widespread the impulse of the Base Model Human belief is. Happily, it is also the easiest to root out. When you create stories, watch for these trends in your own work. Are around half your characters women? Are some of your characters minors or seniors? Are about 1/3 of them people of color? Is there someone in your story who is non-heteronormative, neurodivergent, disabled, non-Christian, or some other manner of “different” from the Base Model Human? And most importantly: how do their experiences as a non-Base Model Human contribute to who they are? If you don’t know, then you need to get out into the world and find out, because you’re missing the one thing an artist depicting humans really needs: insight into the human experience. As the Major said in “Ghost in the Shell”, “A system where all the parts react the same is a flawed system.” And once you’ve retrained yourself to see the world in a more realistic light, you’ll stop having to intentionally diversify your cast. Your creative impulses will do it for you.

As an afternote … some people will say it is “PC pandering” or “unrealistic” to purposefully include non-Base Model Humans in their stories, or to assert that they should be allowed to create however they want. Sure, go for it, do whatever you like, no one’s stopping you. But your representation of the human experience will be more true to life, and will resonate more with a wider audience, if your cast of characters more accurately reflects the actual population. In short, when your writing is better. And, sorry, the numbers weigh out – only 16% of the United States is actually a Base Model Human. Your fictional population of characters ought to be about the same. You shouldn’t have to argue for diversity – that’s just what real life looks like. No, it’s character homogeny that is unrealistic and pandering, and requires an explanation.

Oh – and if you’re about to argue that for the setting you’re working in, like academia, government, etc., really does have more Base Model Humans than a random sampling of the population? Maybe you should consider why that is. It has nothing to do with the inherent superiority of the Base Model Human, and much more to do with thousands of years of systemic bigotry. You really want your art to be a part of that?

The Inevitability of Writing

About a year ago, I decided I should stop trying to write for publication. 

My reasoning was logical. I had very little time or energy. The likelihood of being able to support myself on my writing was slim to none. I had just gone through a divorce and been diagnosed with new and exciting health problems, so I’d had to get a 9-5 (ok, 8-6) office job, give up writing full time, give up my small textile business, and sell my small farm and all its animals in order to support myself and my children. All this with a thoroughly demolished sense of trust and a broken heart, having lost not one but three of my best friends in the divorce.

I reasoned with myself that, in light of so much change, I needed to be realistic. If I stopped trying to write for publication, I would not leave myself vulnerable to further disappointment. I couldn’t have broken dreams if I didn’t start out with fragile dreams in the first place. I only had so much emotional energy; how much could I realistically sink into something with so little chance of paying off? It wasn’t like I got emotional support from writing; feedback for writers is as sparse as the hair on a teen boy’s chin.

So I stopped. I wrote a couple of self-indulgent fan fiction stories. That was kinda fun. I wrote some short nonfiction essays. But in short order I became a more and more unhappy person. My existential crises got worse. I had moments of suicidal ideation.

Finally, I gave up. I started writing For Reals again. Novels. They’re still very sketchy, and none is even finished with the zero draft. But I work on them a few minutes a day, which is all I currently have when I am not sleeping, working or taking care of the kids. It’s not much of a life, sure. But I had it drilled into my head that I don’t get a choice about being a writer; I am a writer, full stop. Might never publish anything again. Almost certainly will never “hit it big” or even be able to support myself with it. But I’m still going to do it, because to do otherwise leads to madness.

What Scares You?

One of the themes in the book I am working on, “Bleeding Hearts”, is fear. The roots of fear, personally, culturally, biologically. 

There’s basic horror movie monster fear – in the words of Twenty-One Pilots, “Death inspires me the way a dog inspires a rabbit.” Prey fear. Fear or spiders, snakes, heights, deep water, closed off spaces, clowns, dogs, the dark. This fear keeps us safe from harm, or at least that is what it is meant to do.

There are social fears that are culturally based, such as rejection, humiliation, failure. Fear of being alone, of not living up to your potential. These fears are meant to keep us in harmony with the tribe. Interestingly, men’s fear of women is social fear, but women’s fear of men is prey fear. Or in Margaret Atwood’s words, “Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them.”

Then there are the personal fears, the deeply individual fears that shake us. The fear of losing our children, our parents. Existential fears like there not being a god, or that your life will be meaningless, or that you are on the wrong tract of life altogether. A fear of helplessness in the face of insurmountable odds. These are the most interesting fears and the hardest ones to write about.

The end effect has been for me to ask myself, what are you afraid of? And the answer appears to be: everything. That would probably make me a great horror writer. We’ll see what it does for me as an erotica writer. :/

Creative Work, Post Election

It’s been a few weeks since the 2016 election. Our world, and social media feeds, are still upended. Many of us have had our creative momentum derailed by Real Life. New volunteering, more arguing, analyzing, checking the news every day with a stone in your gut. While it is vitally important we do not accept much of the current political atmosphere as “the new normal”, it IS important to balance that with daily functionality. We cannot live in crisis mode indefinitely. For creative people, regaining functionality includes getting back to the creative work.

Part of this is practicality. Part of it is self-care; the best artists and authors I know would quite literally lose their sanity without creative work, no hyperbole. And part of it is because WE NEED YOU. Yes, you, the guy who draws hot anime women. You, the girl writing porn about centaurs in space. You, who knit and make pottery and do crafts with your kids and write rap musicals about history. You are all creative gains for the world. You create tiny pieces of reality. We need you to WORK, to share yourself with us, to help inform us of who we are. We need ALL OF YOU, even if you don’t feel like you matter.

The resistance to bigotry, suppression and tyranny is not all politics, money and legislation. It is also art, the big pieces and the tiny pieces. So get back to work. The resistance needs you.

(You might try starting something different than what you were doing before The Election if you aren’t ready to dive back into your novel or your symphony or whatever. A blog post or a lullaby are perfectly acceptable projects to prime your creative energies back to capacity.)


I’m going to say something, and it is astounding to me that this is controversial: creative people should be paid for their work.

Writers. Artists. Speakers. Bloggers. Film makers. Sculptors. Musicians. Graphic designers. Actors. Directors. Set designers. Textile artists. Landscapers. All of them.

I’ve heard the most assinine reasons given for why these people should NOT be paid. Most of the time it’s “exposure!” Translation: everyone will see your work here and will want to hire you for other work! Which is ridiculous, because no other industry works like that. Imagine seeing these ads …

“Design a database for one of our clients and you’ll be added to our list of database developers. Our website sees tons of traffic, and they will all see your name! EXPOSURE!”

“Teach in our school for a semester and parents will be clamoring for their school to hire you for real! EXPOSURE!”

“Work for free and we’ll provide you a reference”

“Work for free and our unique platform will get your name out there”


You hear that last one? That’s what I hear in every one of those “exposure!” offers. The reason they can get away with it is twofold: 1) creative people undervalue their work, and 2) so many others are doing it, the big guns can get away with it. It seems to be either “We’re so big we shouldn’t have to pay, bc exposure” or “We’re so small we can’t pay, but we’re PASSIONATE about it.” Oprah did it. The TED talks do it. (Oh, but you get to see all the other TED talks! Bitch please. Speakers don’t get into public speakings so they can watch other people speak.) The Huffington Post does it. I see it everywhere.

I have never heard any creative person say they got their start by doing work for free, and cashed in on all the exposure. It probably happens to a very, very small minority, but it is not a probable path to sustainable work. The solution, really, is for creative people to stop undervaluing their work, and to stop providing content for free. Then, when the leeches who sustain themselves on the unpaid work of other people shrivel up and fold, we’ll be left with the ones who can pay.

I’ve heard the argument that creative people who put their work out there for free are somehow more “pure” than people who make money with their art. This is horse shit. It’s just a half-assed justification for not paying for someone’s work. There’s no real life correllation whatsoever. So fuck that reasoning, it’s not real.


There is something to be said for volunteer work for the arts and for working “for free” at your own passion project. Plenty of people do this, and it’s NOT THE SAME THING as a profitable company getting content for free when they could very well pay. If you do something for the joy of it, then cool, have at it. Enjoy yourself. But don’t let a company profit from your work when they ought to be paying for it.


I have recently been on the sidelines while two groups of people railed at each other over Ko-Fi. Long story short: putting a Ko-Fi or a Paypal or some other donate button on their website allows people to essentially “buy a coffee” for someone whose work they enjoy. A number of fan fiction writers and fan artists include one on their website. I was quite pleased with this notion and immediately “bought a coffee” for my favorite fan fiction writer (who can write like a SON OF A BITCH, lemme tell ya.) The Internet then exploded into a herd of rabid monkeys, hollering (among other things) that fan fiction writers and artists shouldn’t make money with their work, was this even legal, who do they think they are getting paid when so many other writers don’t get paid, fan fiction isn’t about money, etc. All of which are COMPLETE CRAP REASONS to prevent another person from putting a “tip jar” on their personal website.

Personally, I think it would be lovely if fan fiction writers and artists were able to make money with their work, because it is still creative work, still provides value to someone (the fans and, to some extent, the original creators, because it keeps the original work’s relevance going longer.) Perhaps something along the lines of “fair use,” with a portion going to the original creator, I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer, or a web designer, the actual implementation is beyond me. But the presence of fan-created content is relevant enough, prevalent enough, and frankly, GOOD enough that this warrants consideration. I think it’s time to have that conversation, as a society. The notion that fan writers and artists are somehow morally obligated to NOT accept anything for their work, including a voluntary tip jar, is not only ludicrous but indicative of sour grapes. My own Ko-Fi, by the way, is right here. And these over here are my own fan fictions. It’s kind of like geological strata of my movie obsessions.

So with that in mind, I’d like to encourage you to buy your favorite creative person a coffee. Or introduce creative people to business people who may have a use for their talent. Or review your friend’s book. (Ahem. Like here.) Tell them their work is worth something. And call out the assholes who leech off of them.






Circlet Press Retreat

At the beginning of April, I had the great privilege of attending the Circlet Press Writers’ and Editors’ Retreat in Cambridge, MA. It’s three days of talking about writing, editing and publishing Circlet’s brand of stories – erotica with a scifi/fantasy bent, or “erotica for geeks” – with some of my favorite people in the world, in Cecilia Tan’s gorgeous historic Victorian home. Yeah, it’s as awesome as it sounds, and I am grateful to Cecilia for hosting such a great event.

One of the local authors graciously let me crash at her home, much to the consternation of her cats. I used PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. (Hey, I’m from Dallas, we don’t have it; I’m super proud I have figured it out.) I got to hear about the state of the publishing industry both at large and for Circlet in particular, participate in a podcast reading for Nobilis Erotica, have a drink with Vinnie Tesla (fabulous steampunk author, and hot, to boot), and listen to presentations by some of the best minds in the field. The Twitter hashtag was #porncamp. We were very amused with ourselves.

As usual, I came home with my brain bursting at the seams and motivated to write. Stone’s Prayer, which is linked over there to the right, came out of that weekend. Hopefully, much more will, as well.

Getting it Down

I am often asked by friends about my writing process. My response is always the same. When you sit down with the Dreaded White Blank Page, just write. It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t even have to be the beginning. Just write. Get your story out. With a crowbar, if necessary. Only when it is all done do I go back and start editing. Until then, the job is simple: add words. Lots of people start to write; be one of the ones who finish!