rthstewart | It's Sunday, Breaking Borders, Jill Pole, and things that go boom

Thanks so very, very much to everyone who commented on the latest. I am so grateful and the reason I've not responded is that I've been trying to finish up the next chapter. It's not been a good week for writing, so I'll just keep pushing. It's a good thing I'm not doing NaNo, because I'd be so far behind it's ridiculous. So, let's talk about some things.

I've had several comments over on ff.net with reviewers wondering if I'd departed from canon in writing Jill as Afro-Caribbean and such. Maybe. There is the "fair children" line in Silver Chair. Apart from the illustrations in the books, which do show her as white, there is no description of Jill at all. None. There is no history of her family. So, when I read Miniver's suggestion, and given the oddity of Experiment House, I decided I did not need to default to the white character.
EDIT because [Bad username or site: anastigmatfic / @ livejournal.com] reminds me there is that bit where Jill, Eustace, and Tirian rub themselves with stuff to make themselves dark like Calormenes and there is some uncomfortable language later. I suppose there are ways of explaining it away and I'm not going to fret over that. Or, well, I am, but I prefer to focus on ways of making this more inclusive, not less so.

We've recorded AsCast! Yeah! And this evening we intereviewed the superlative

anastigmatfic who just updated her amazing Breaking the Borders What? You mean you haven't read Breaking the Borders? What are you waiting for? I love this story so much.

Also, NFFR is now starting its Santa Fanworks exchange. So if you find the Narnia Big Bang too intimidating, maybe consider signing up for that? And they do need artists for the Big Bang too!

Speaking of the Narnia Big Bang, I did sign up for it. I'm still trying to work out where I want to stop with AW to pick up Big Bang and... well, I'll work it out. Ideally, I'll get AW to the point in early 1943 with both Susan and Peter leaving school and then telling their war stories.

Speaking of,

l_a_r_m started a tumblr account, toomuchtebbitt so you can guess its focus. She posted a picture of rum bottles and then
I added to it.

Over the roar of the Whitley bomber’s engines, Tebbitt shouted, “Since you’ll be in the vicinity, bring me back a bottle of Chambord!”

“Tired of the rum at Beaulieu?” Susan tugged hard on the harness, confirming that her chute and gear were secure. The Whitley lurched and with the added weight on her back, it was heavy enough to unbalance her. She tipped forward and Tebbitt caught her by the shoulders. She looked up. “If there is room in my radio equipment for a bottle, it shall be cognac or claret, not chambord.”

Tebbitt kissed her forehead. “We’re at your jump zone. I’ll be waiting for your message. Godspeed, Mrs. Caspian.”

She grabbed onto the handhold; he did the same and pulled a lever to open the bomb door. There was a blast of cold night air and thundering engine noise. The darkened countryside of Mer was thousands of feet below. Gryphon-back was much more civilised, Susan recalled. This was ear-piercing noise, the smell of fuel, and impersonally mechanical.

Tebbitt gave her thumbs up and she nodded. Susan let go of the handhold, teetered at the bomb door’s edge, and jumped.

The Americans had taken to bellowing “Geronimo” when they parachuted. The wind and aircraft noise ripped the sound from her mouth. “For Aslan!”

Susan plunged down into occupied France.

(In other words, I've apparently decided screw the ages, let's go for it).

It's Sunday, Breaking Borders, Jill Pole, and things that go boom

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