Intolerance Food of the Gods: Super Cheesy Pizza

So, for those of you who don't know, I have food intolerances, the worst offenders being yeast, milk, sugar, anything cultured/fungal, nightshades and spices. As you can imagine, this creates many difficulties in eating. I have discovered, however, the greatest trick to getting around this is substitution: soy and goat products instead of dairy, baking soda instead of yeast, and just avoid the cultures, fungi, and nightshades. I have decided to share some of my methods for substitution on the basis it might help others with food issues. Also, some of the substitutions make for very yummy dishes. Now, on to pizza!

I haven't yet found anything which can truly replace tomatoes, so when I say this is a cheesy pizza, I really mean it. My last housemate gave me her recipe for making a cheese sauce, and I substituted and now can have yummy cheese sauce! Let's start with the base though:

The recipe for the base comes from this site: http://www.cooks.com/recipe/u097r22f/yeast-free-pizza-dough.html. I used soy milk instead of regular (for the love of your taste buds, be very careful of heating goat's milk, because it is very often vile when heated). Use whichever oil you like best. This time I used self-raising flour as I was out of plain, and didn't include any baking powder. You may notice my base looks spotty. I like to put oregano into my pizza base, to give it an extra kick. My conversion may have been wrong, but I seemed to have needed twice the amount of milk asked for by the recipe to make it nice and moist. Two good tips for the base: when it says 'oiled baking sheet', I suggest you use your fingers to spread a small amount of oil all over the sheet, because otherwise you have a mess. The other tip is to take your time spreading it out, and make sure you have a nice big ridge around the edge.

For the sauce, I don't have exact measurements, I'm afraid. I chopped up one rasher (unsmoked in this case, but any will do) and fried it until it was starting to brown up nicely. Then I took a dollop of goat's cheese (Lidl has amazing soft goat's cheese and slices for a very good price, so I highly recommend those) and melted it over the bacon. Once that was melted, I added milk (be generous with it, you need to fully cover the base), just over a tablespoon of flour, some more oregano, and let it thicken. As you can see from the picture, I also slopped it over the handle. After that, I poured it over the base and set to the toppings.

I added smoked ham and beef, and broke up some of the goat's cheese slices to cover it. Like any pizza, you can make this vegetarian. I've been trying to think of veggies to add, but as peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms are all out for me, it's difficult to think of anything other than spinach. Suggestions are welcome!

Half an hour in the oven later, and voilà! Pizza for those of us who can't handle yeast, dairy, or tomatoes! Delicious and very quick to make (especially the sauce), and, of course, easy to customise.

If anyone has any recipes they'd like me to customise, let me know!

What I Really Want to See #1: The Warrens

This is the first in a new series of posts about things I would really like to see in my favourite media, which I think would be amazing and wonderful projects. In this post, it is the TV show which I feel should be made out of The Conjuring, to be named The Warrens.

For those who haven't seen it, The Conjuring is a beautifully timed haunting story, in which a vindictive ghost torments the unwitting family which moves into her old home. Pretty familiar fare. I find this is sometimes a problem with this type of horror story, because there is very little variety in the format (I find ghosts, like fictional serial killers, often have limited motivations and thus can be a little boring).

So, what makes this different? The Conjuring is based on a true case handled by a couple called Ed and Lorraine Warren, who were supernatural investigators, who apparently investigated over 10,000 cases during their career. Lorraine was a clairvoyant, while Ed was a demonologist. This couple, to my mind, were the most interesting part of the film for two reasons. First, they are shown investigating a supposed haunting and actually finding the problem is in the pipes. So they are intelligent, capable people. Secondly, they have a collection of possessed items in a locked room in their home (which I can't help but describe as a demonic Warehouse 13).

10,000 cases. A collection of possessed items and (presumably) a love story. This would make an epic television series. Picture it: in the opening we see their first encounters with the supernatural. Then it cuts to their first meeting (I have no idea of how this went, but I like to imagine they found themselves working on the same case, and decided to team up). There are so many things which can happen. Why did they start the collection, and why keep it in their home (in The Conjuring, Ed says they get a priest to bless the room regularly)? How did they make the decision to be so public about what they did? And how, exactly, do you manage any kind of a normal life when your everyday life involves ghosts, demons, and possessions?

Now, as with most television shows, it would veer away from real life, but the potential is there and wonderful, considering one of their books is about how they exorcised a werewolf demon. Consider it like Supernatural, but with a married couple and probably a bit more reserved.

It could happen, I think. Certainly Lorraine Warren seems eager for the work of her and her late husband to be known, so I think she'd be on board. And if it's as beautifully paced as The Conjuring (if you've seen it, you know the bit with the sheet is damned terrifying), then it would be a pleasure to watch regularly.

In the meantime, there is Annabelle, a movie based around the haunted doll from The Conjuring. I'm still holding out hope for the television debut of The Warrens, though (I'm open to suggestions on a better name).


Edited to add: For the record, I take an agnostic view of the supernatural. If it ever happens in front of me, I'll be sure to believe in it.

The Final Stretch

I find myself approaching the final stretch of my PhD, as I'm due to submit in March, and I'm feeling a strange mixture of terror and jubilation. I recently got some great advice from a wonderful friend of mine, who told me she felt (like me) as if the amount left was overwhelming and too much. Her advice was to keep working on it every day and suddenly there will be a day when it's all done.

(I have found PhDs are, in many ways, the height of anticlimactic experiences.)

Hearing that made me feel a lot better; a PhD is an isolating experience, because in the last year, you're probably skipping most of the socialising with others at the university to get writing/research/other work done. With that in mind, I thought I'd share some of my top tips which have helped me, to hopefully help others keep their spirits up.

If anyone has any other tips, put them in the comments here!


1 - Don't panic if things change. This is so important, because what you submitted as your proposal is so far removed from what you submit, it'll probably be unrecognisable. In a recent chat with The Supervisor, I talked about how my initial proposal had me comparing the worldbuilding techniques of Ursula Le Guin, Frank Herbert, and Douglas Adams, including works from after the deaths of Herbert and Adams. Within weeks of starting I asked my supervisor if I could choose just one author because, frankly, thirty-plus primary texts was a ridiculous prospect. When I reminisced about that, The Supervisor informed me she would never have allowed me to do all that, but wanted to give me the opportunity to realise it. Since then, the focus has winnowed further, and I'm now analysing landscapes in Adams's worldbuilding. This is still awesome, but it is so much more manageable.

2 - Listen to your supervisor. For the love of whatever you do or do not believe in, listen to your supervisor. Not only have they done a PhD themselves, but they've also seen a lot of PhDs (presumably). They will know the standard of writing you need to achieve, what 100,000 words actually means in terms of work, and what pitfalls you will face. In my case, The Supervisor had seen me through my Masters dissertation as well, so she knew all my bad writing habits. For example, I can no longer write 'that' without feeling the need to delete it immediately.

3 - Sleep. Yeah, this can be a tough one, especially if, like me, you are prone to procrastination. It involves changing your habits, which sometimes means turning off the Internet for a while. This will not kill you, though if you're anything like me, you'll feel antsy and want to be distracted. This is your procrastination speaking. My method of overcoming this is to get myself into writing mood with this lovely orchestral piece from the last battle in Buffy the Vampire Slayer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIRVjYz9nTw. I find it's a great combination of 'Let's Kick Ass!' and 'Huh, I forgot that was playing'. A quick Google search will give you many pieces of advice for putting an end to procrastination, so find what fits for you. Once you do this, you'll find you not only have time to sleep, but you won't wake up with thesis guilt in the middle of the night. Yep, that is a thing I do. I also wake up with Christmas-present-buying guilt/anxiety, hence my habit of shopping early.

4 - Embrace the glory of the To Do List. Seriously, this helps, even if your list reads like this:

a) Wake Up
b) Eat Food
c) Find thesis books under pile of stuff which somehow multiplies in the night
d) Read one thing
e) Lunch
f) Write for two hours
g) Existential angst

I read an article which had a lot of the standard thesis advice (I suspect, like what I'm doing here, it was written more for the author than anything else) which recommended a program called Trello, which I now love. The joy of being able to drag something from 'In Progress' to 'Finished' cannot be underestimated.

5 - Make room for the things which make you happy. Even if it is one hour a week watching your favourite TV show, or reading webcomics, or knitting, or Skype calls with friends, find something which will let you disconnect from the thesis for a little while, and let your brain have a rest. The Young Man was bemused to find me, in the middle of a particularly exhausting week, turning on America's Next Top Model, which I consider a perfect chance for the critical part of my brain to recharge. (This has replaced Yu-Gi-Oh as my top guilty pleasure).

6 - Don't do too many conferences. This is coming from Miss I-can-do-seven-conferences-in-my-thesis. I loved them all, and I regret none of them, but maybe I shouldn't have let myself be sidetracked too often. Still, I really enjoyed them. Basically, do as many as you think you can. I like to make my conference papers different from my PhD, because it lets me explore something I get interested in without it mucking up the focus on the thesis. But, having done it and been quite brain dead after, I do not recommended three conferences in six weeks. Still not quite sure how I scheduled them without realising how close they all were...

7 - Write. I don't always keep to this, but it is the advice everyone will give you. Write when you are bored. Write when you are tired. Write on a day when it's sunny outside and you want to go out, but the stupid thesis is stopping you. Write when you hate the work, and write when you love it. Write when you have no damned idea what you are saying. Going over it with your supervisor later will help you figure out what you want to say, and how to do it. In the end, just write.

And delete almost every 'that' you type...

Why Conference?

Unfortunately, moving house and a chapter deadline meant I was not able to do a conference report on CRSF 2014 immediately afterwards. Needless to say, it was, as usual, brilliantly organised, and there was always something interesting to go to. Highlights of the day for me included both keynotes, Dr. Mark Bould and Prof. Roger Luckhurst, the Female Roles panel (which I somewhat haphazardly chaired, my first time ever doing that!), the Video Games panel I shared with the awesome Dawn Stobbart, and the Performance and Building Fantasy panels in the afternoon (okay, it was all highlight for me). My only regret was missing the Young Man's first international paper as our panels were running at the same time, but I'm told he did well, so I'm as proud as punch!

I've been thinking a lot about conferences for the last two days, especially as I'm considering putting an abstract in for yet another one, which would make the eleventh conference I've spoken at, and my thirteenth overall. I've spoken in Dublin, Buckinghamshire, Aberdeen, London, and Liverpool. I've spoken on Battlestar Galactica, European Science Fiction, why science fiction characters have no science fiction of their own, the Scream series, Fringe, zombie narratives, Irish science fiction, The Lord of the Rings, All-Star Superman, and most recently, the Portal video game series.

Clearly I have a love of conferences. In fact, I like them so much, I did three in a six week period, two of them being a week apart. This love may pall when I organise my own conference someday, but I really do enjoy them. From these conferences, I've managed to publish essays on Battlestar Galactica and The Lord of the Rings. I'm still mildly disappointed with myself for not submitting my All-Star Superman for the book which came out of that conference, but timewise, it just wasn't possible (links to these books will be at the bottom of this post).

I have a particular approach to conference papers, at least part of which I'm sure is shared by many academics:

Step 1: Am I interested in this topic? Conferences tend to take time out of your usual academic work, so do something which interests you passionately, but which you can't devote a lot of time to right now. Remember this is not a journal article; this is your presentation of an interesting idea you've had, and what does everyone else think? CRSF is also a chance to present your thesis work for feedback, so if you're a spec fic researcher, start looking out for next year's cfp! (Seriously, this is an awesome conference, I'm already working on an abstract for next year.)

Step 2: No more than 8-9 pages, double spaced, Times New Roman, size 12. This keeps me within the 20 minute mark, and if it goes a little shorter, all the better. Twenty minutes is the outside limit, and having once had to adlib the last three pages of a paper, going under is a far better idea than going over. And going over is the absolute best way to piss off your fellow panellists, and questions at the end are a lot more fun if ye all get along. There's a picture of me and a fellow panellist chatting before our papers from the Tolkien conference, and someone (jokingly) captioned it as us getting into a debate. Perhaps I have resting bitch face, but we were wishing each other luck! Similarly, Dawn Stobbart and I had a nice chat before our panel at CRSF this year, so I felt really comfortable standing next to her and answering questions. In short, be nice to your fellow panellists! They are usually pretty interesting people.

Step 3: Try to practise, if there's time. Otherwise, just speak slowly and hope for the best. And for the love of all the gods in existence, try to look up. Some of us are half deaf and need your face directed at us to hear clearly. Some of my speech and drama training kicks in automatically for me, and I get the projection going, but some practise is still a good idea.

Step 4: No text on the Powerpoint except for the title slide. This is a personal preference. I want people to look at pictures and admire them, not read something while I'm trying to talk. For common Powerpoint mistakes, look at this hilarious video: Life After Death by Powerpoint. Simpler is always better.

Step 5: Take it as an opportunity to try to be entertaining. This is important, I think. Conferences are long days, and people's attention can wane. This is why Step 1 is important; if you are interested, so are others. I finished my zombie talk with a picture of me done up as a zombie. Sadly, the last audio clip on my video game presentation failed, so I had to let everyone know GLaDoS wanted to hurl a last insult at them. Dr Bould and Professor Luckhurst were fantastic examples of this; informative, but interesting and entertaining. Most of the speakers at CRSF this year were the same, though you can tell who's been doing this for years based on how comfortable they are giving the talks. I'm continually aiming for that level of 'look relaxed and make it clear I know everything about this subject'. I'm not sure I'm there yet...

Step 6: Avoid theory heavy stuff. This is not to say you shouldn't include theory, if it suits the topic. My first paper was on Judith Butler's identity theory, but I (surprisingly as it was my first conference) moved on as quickly as possible from the theory to talking about how it applies. I find theory heavy papers tend can be prone to running long (I've been fortunate enough not to see it happen often). Also, I think it's usually enough to mention the theorist and let your audience look them up if they want.

Step 7: Enjoy yourself. This is a chance to meet people other than the academics in your university, often specialising in your field, and able to give you feedback on your ideas. Yes, you can get this in your home university, but it is so important to share ideas and knowledge further afield, especially in literary circles. And if you're in a period of writing and no teaching, sometimes a conference might be the only place where you actually meet people for a few months, so the human contact is definitely important. And, as my conference buddies from TCD at CRSF 2012 will attest, you can get to know people from your home university even better when representing your home university and trying to look awesome.

The advantage of a going-away conference over one at your home university is you'll stay for the whole day (or as much as you can manage with travel arrangements) at the going-away conference. For the home one, you'll be likely to still be trying to finish your Powerpoint the morning of the conference. The disadvantage is you might find yourself not getting travel funding from your university. However, I've generally only taken on conferences when I knew for sure I could afford it (even if it was a stretch) without funding.

I love conferences. I love speaking in public on interesting topics in general. If I ever get offered a job as a paid speaker, then hell yes, I am doing that (provided it's talking about generally cool things). And I adore the experience of standing in front of my peers and knowing, no matter how deep into the academic argument I get, they are following along and are interested. I think it's one of the best experiences in being in academia, and what research should be about; the sharing of ideas and thoughts, and having people question and add to those ideas.

So again, to the lads at CRSF, and everyone conference I've ever attended, congratulations. I've always had a blast!



Books:

Tolkien: The Forest and the City, edited by Helen Conrad O Briain and Gerard Hynes
Battlestar Galactica: Mission Accomplished or Mission Frakked Up?, edited by Josef Steiff and Tristan D. Tamplin
Grant Morrison and the Superhero Renaissance, edited by Darragh Greene and Kate Roddy (forthcoming)

Sticking up for the little guy, or why I think Garth Brooks was right

First, a quick explanation. Life is insane and I've had to move house (but I'm living with my young man, so yay!), and thus the blog has fallen to the bottom of the priority list. Now things are more settled, I intend to update properly. Now, onto the post!

 

So, the big controversy in Ireland (or at least its music scene) these past week or so has been the hoopla over Garth Brooks's concerts. Here's the quick low down on what happened (if I'm inaccurate in any way let me know). Skip if you already know this.

 

As far as I can tell, Garth Brooks and Aiken Promotions agreed that he would perform on five consecutive nights in Croke Park, Dublin. However, when the license to perform was applied for, only three nights were granted (there were also protests from some local residents). The entire run has been cancelled as no one seems able to come up with a solution to this affair which meets everyone's criteria. Hopefully it can be sorted, as going by last year, the Irish like Garth Brooks.

 

What I want to talk about is perhaps the most inflammatory part of all this: Brooks's statement he would play all or none of his shows. A lot of the reaction (that I've heard) is people saying he should have agreed to only do three shows. Personally, I back him entirely, not because of him, but because of the precedent it sets.

 

Say Brooks agreed to do three shows. The next time an artist is asked, for any reason, to reduce their number of shows, his capitulation will be used against them, and we can be sure the legal side of what's happening now will be ignored in favour of the argument "But Garth Brooks did it, and you are not as famous as he".

 

Brooks is not only protecting his future earnings by sticking to his guns and making it clear that shows, once booked, cannot be treated as a pick and mix. He is actually protecting newer and younger artists, ones without any clout in the music industry. It is the flip side of the expectation that a musician will do the shows they promise to do, namely that they'll be allowed to do the shows they agreed to. And while this is all probably costing Garth Brooks a fortune, he won't be destitute after it. The same could not be said for a newer act who might sign up for a performance, turn down other work, and find themselves with fewer shows - and a smaller income - than they'd anticipated. This is about more than a single set of shows, and more than Garth Brooks's bank balance: it is about industry standards. And as long as people like Garth Brooks insist upon industry standards, younger, newer, and poorer artists are protected. And I am willing to bet Brooks learned this when he was a young singer starting out, and making a pittance until he hit it big. Many singers never hit it big. They need the protection people like Brooks can provide.

 

This can crop up in writing, too. Take the time to pop over to Youtube and watch THIS: This is Harlan Ellison explaining to young writers why they have to demand pay, namely that it undercuts older writers. As someone who was undercut by fifty percent while freelancing - and I was only working at market rate - I can tell you, it stings to have your work utterly devalued. It is a damned difficult thing to make money off. But imagine if all the experienced writers, the ones with clout, allowed their contracts and agreements to change at will. Imagine just how much harder it becomes for younger writers. If Stephen King were willing to allow his contracted number of books - his wages - to be cut, then no younger writer could ever enforce their own contracts. Child of Chaos once said she liked a group of books so much, she'd translate them for free. My response to her may not have been as vitriolic as Ellison (who is?), but it was no less emphatic. Doing something which adversely affects the wages of others in your industry is not only morally dubious, but foolish, as you are only hurting yourself in the end.

 

I'm not going to say it's not disappointing to see it all come to this. Many people were excited about having him to come to Ireland. If a pair of tickets came my way, I would not have said no (my attitude to country music being that I'll listen to it for a night at least). But I'm afraid I, for one, can't argue with the man's reasons.

Captain America versus The Hulk and Superman: Why Does One Succeed Where the Others Fail?

From the title, you may presume I have seen Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Happily, the Young Man and I wandered into the cinema, leading to his family witnessing me squealing with joy over a film. I believe they are now aware of just how geeky I am. Fortunately, they don't seem to mind it.

Watching The Winter Soldier has led me to question how it is that Captain America has successfully carried off two solo films while the Hulk, Superman, and other superheroes, fail so miserably. I'm going to try to avoid any big spoilers, but just in case, here's a cut for the rest of this article.

 

Talking about what you love

I sit here with a cup of decaf tea by my side, about to play some Broken Sword V (it is astonishing to me that they are still making new entries for my very first point and click game), and thinking about how, in June of this year, I'll be getting up in front of a room full of people at CRSF 2014 and telling them what I think about narrative in computer games. This will be the tenth time I speak at a conference, my fifth time internationally. My first conference was terrifying; it was at 'The Politics, Poetics and Philosophy of Battlestar Galactica', at Buckinghamshire Chilterns New University back in 2007. I was terrified; I had finished my undergraduate degree so recently, I hadn't even had my graduation ceremony yet. At the time I was working a job with only ten hours between shifts, proofing Masters' students dissertations, and trying to get two buses to my college library on my days off to read up on Judith Butler's identity theory. On top of that, despite owning season three of Battlestar Galactica, I hadn't finished watching it by the time I flew over. I did not have high hopes for how the paper would go. When I received the line up, I was even more distressed; I was speaking between two doctors! Seventeen years of speech and drama training almost went out the window when I got up there and tried to adlib some jokes, leading to one academic commenting on how I didn't like Baltar much. (For the record, I do like Baltar. He was just an easy target for me that day.)

But it went well. The question and answer session (which managed to turn all my internal organs to stone at the mention) was not as heinous as I had feared. I was among people who were genuinely interested in my ideas and in helping to improve them. I loved it. I was also fortunate enough to meet Roz Kaveney that day, though, to my shame, I did not discover the full awesomeness of the woman until much later and so did not appreciate her presence as I should have. A wonderful upshot of the conference was my eventual inclusion in Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: MissionAccomplished or Mission Frakked Up?, first with the brilliantly named 'I Frak, Therefore I am' (the editors' idea and I still adore it), and secondly with the anonymous 'Dreamers in the Night' (we were making a final five joke. I still like that too).

Since that fateful 2007, I have spoken in Ireland, England, and Scotland on European science fiction, slasher films and 70s feminist science fiction, science fiction within science fiction, Fringe, Grant Morrison's All-Star Superman, Lord of the Rings and Metropolis (which landed me in JRR Tolkien: the Forest and the City), science fiction in the Irish literary canon, and zombies. I have been very lucky; these conferences were all organised by brilliant, enthusiastic people, and I have fond memories of all of them -- though few things will top my delight at being called "Bold, in both senses of the word" by the conference organiser at the University of Aberdeen for saying Samuel Beckett's Endgame could be read as a post-apocalyptic text.

Thinking about this, and about how meeting people as interested in genre fiction as I am has helped my own critical thinking, I start to consider how I got into all this in the first place. It comes down to wanting to talk about the things I've read and seen, wanting to dissect them, find out what they're doing. One of the infinity of things I love about the Young Man is that he likes to discuss texts just as much as I do (and he's good at it too. I am very lucky). We could talk for the rest of our lives about the books, movies, and television shows we've seen, and never get tired of it.

My love of literary criticism also comes back, as so many things do for me, to Douglas Adams. I think I was about eleven or twelve when I found a tape in my house called The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Having nothing better to do, I put it in and watched it. Despite only having the first couple of episodes, I relished it, but it stuck in my head not just because it was science fiction and it was funny. It stuck in my head because Adams spent the first few minutes making me laugh and then, just when I was comfortable, he gave us that terrible silence when the Earth was destroyed. And I couldn't understand how I felt about it. To some extent I still don't, which is why I research Adams's worldbuilding, and why I research other genre fiction. In the end, I want to know why I react the way I do to these texts.

There is, to me, something inherently beautiful about genre fiction, no matter the medium. It is an expression of something someone has created from themselves, and from the knowledge and experience they have to hand. It is crafting, weaving words and imagery into art. It is taking a journey and hoping the reader is willing to join them, walk the paths of this new world with them, to fill in the gaps they have left in the building with what the reader knows would be there. It is something potentially so fragile a single word could break it, and so strong that a million people will invest their time and energy into loving it. Speculative fiction is about the places which have never been, could never be, might never be; it is the child of imagination and intelligence and joy in different words, different images, different places. It is a celebration of hope, despair, joy, hatred, fear, faith, and wonder. While I accept not everyone will like it, it is genuinely hard for me to understand why anyone wouldn't. These are adventures the like of which we can never find for ourselves, paths we cannot take, roads which do not exist in our world. Who wouldn't want to walk down those roads?

So I go to conferences and I meet people who love these things, these imagined worlds and people, just as much as I do; who seek to find the meaning in the texts just as I want to, and to enjoy them as they do. It is, I have found, a nourishment for my soul, as doing what you love always is. If I could have a lifetime of talking about these things, I will find my life well-spent.

But in the meantime, I'm going to have my tea, and indulge my love of computer games. Because you can love a lot of things at once in this world. That's why it's the best one.