@Fragglemuppet I would be willing to bet this is a problem with your instance. May I suggest that you contact your instance's administrator and ask out this?
#PSA#Apple#iPhone#iOS#Beta 26.2 testers. I encountered a photos bug where the optimization of photos in the Photos app (and camera) tunes down the exposure from correct to 5 to 7 stops too dark. It seems irreversible. I've turned off the phone to prevent syncing corrupted images, but some have synced to my iPad and are dark. No editing can fix them; it's as if they've become totally underexposed. It's both HEIC and RAW. I've filed feedback.
I highly recommend resetting your phone to the release version, or avoiding the 26.2 beta until the next release if you actually need your on phone photos. See the screen shots. The software progresses through the photo library, ruining all the your shots. I am now about to revert to the 26.1 release. See link. Black frames originally had the proper exposure. Restarting the phone did not fix the bug.
Please boost so all iPhone beta users know what's going on.
In the Reluctance Series, this is practically subliminal since there is no need to make a point of it in the story. It is like an easter egg. There is no plastic. There is no fossil fuel, though sometimes they do burn wood. Those things that are "disposable" are wood, glass, metal, and ceramic. Food comes in bulk and people bring things to carry it away. Water is kept in metal flasks. Everything is recycled. There are many open wild areas, half of them because a certain type of human protects these areas. That set of stories hasn't been written, yet, but the rest of humanity skirts those areas and various MC's mention it's dangerous. I'll mention animals as they become important to stories.
Despite this, they live in a modern interstellar civilization.
@nafmo Interesting description. You aren't the first person I've met on Mastodon who has #aphantasia. The concept has made me think about how I visualize things. I am one of those people who can imagine something, like airplane, then can rotate the image in my mind like a CAM/CAD object, to view anything in detail from any viewpoint.
But do I actually see it? No. I don't get something akin to watching a TV, or a visual hallucination. Yet, I can discern details. It's more of knowing what I have seen than seeing it. I can't emphasize the somewhat non-visual sense of this.
Additionally, I can visualize anything except people. This may because as a shy person, I spent most of my childhood avoiding looking at people. That basic design concept may be missing in my mind. Dunno. That said, I can visualize people's eyes, sometimes their hair, freckles. That's almost visual, but it's limited..
Anyway, does that answer your question?
Is it possible that when people say they visualize it is like this, or am I actually more like you?
#WordWeavers 2025.07.22 — As a writer, do you use the same level of description you prefer to read? If not, do you use more or less?
My preference is only essential description, read or written. It differs for me between the POV and the supporting characters, less for the former, more for the latter.
Since I want the reader to see themselves in the story, I often give the POV character little or no description, other than what matters for the story, or what they think about themselves.
I took this to an extreme in Mars Needed Women in that the main character has a name that sounds like Mary† though written as if Asian, was named that because she's an atheist in a theocracy, has one child whose hair is described as resembling hers, is obviously not at all curvy because of her comments about a curvy character, and works out so is comparatively muscular. And that's it.
In Reluctant Moon, there are two main characters who are very into each other, sometimes poetically going into description of their partner in intimate detail. Empathy in action is more important to this story, but with two characters, I get to cheat somewhat: one gets to have a complexion like porcelain and the other is as dark as midnight. Oddly, it's not their skin color for which they face prejudice.
In another story in the reluctance series, the only thing I think I'm going to fully describe is the character's horns since they cause her trouble. They're the size of a crooked index finder, greatly resemble rusty rebar including the dangerously sharp point, and are positioned at her temples pointing back. They destroy hats, but can be hidden in the devil-girl's hair, which implies some sort of red. She'll describe her complexion simply as olive and considers that she's so average she could disappear in the slightest crowd, were it not for her height. I am going to get rid of her scene looking into a mirror because it kind of annoys me that she would enumerate her features simply because she can, especially since she really doesn't care about them (except when she is disguising herself).
As for non-POV characters, I describe them as much as they need to be described for story purposes. As an author pointed out yesterday, if we later learn that the murderer in the mystery has bright red hair, somebody will be neutrally described with the clue, as in, "'That yellow dress really doesn't go with her freckles and ruddy hair.'" I moderate the need to describe in Dickensian detail with a desire, again, for the reader to see themselves and people in their community in the characters of my stories.
I especially enjoy the POV tagging other characters' eye color. For example, in Inklings, Wintereyes characterizes her love interest, after seeing his eyes in the sunlight, as having caramel eyes, like the hard candy, then later nicknames him Caramello despite learning his name. I can't help but describe him as a looking like a pacific islander, for in his world he is essentially an exiled chieftain's son, so his build and bulk and general appearance tag along. As for Wintereyes, the POV, judging by her name, her eyes could be anything from crystal blue to grey, and I'd not be surprised if most readers assume her hair color is white or light blonde. In the story, she is accompanied by Mother Wolf, who is a white wolf. Maybe someone will joke that Wintereyes resembles her mother? Maybe…
=-=-=-=-= † About the name: I was checked to ensure Googling the name will make the it apparent it isn't a name commonly used in the culture it sounds like it came from.
@jeanmauel I would like to be the first to welcome you to the writing community here. There is no algorithm like on X/Twitter and other services to generate a timeline of posts (called toots) on Mastodon. To do this you follow people that interest you, which you did for me so you've got this. We also follow keyword hashtags like #WritingCommunity and include those hashtags in our posts when they apply.
Including the following hashtags and the accounts allow you to be found by like-minded people. If you don't include them, you won't be noticed. Much. You do have a recognizable name…
There are also hashtag writer challenge games, where like-minded authors reply and discuss author-y things. It is both a good way to procrastinate (as if we need that), but also an opportunity to think about current characters and techniques and read what other authors think about the subject. Here are some incomplete lists to get you started.
There's more, but if you check these out, you'll quickly be surrounded by the like-minded. Also, since I follow a multitude of authors, but also artists and creative people, you are welcome to raid my follow list on my profile page for other accounts to follow.
Last, please take a moment to fill in your profile page. I do admit your name and banner picture is a great intro, but it's a good place to note what you love to talk about, what you would rather talk about, and it may not just be about writing and publishing. Today is good time to do that. (I guess RS is a little pushy.) Again, you are welcome to look at my profile page (and others) for ideas.
If you provide links anywhere on Mastodon, but definitely when building your profile page, include the full http version of the link. If you do, it becomes clickable.
Of note in regard to profiles, you can pin things like a longer introduction post or an essay you wish to share, so it is the first post visitors see. It's one of the features and actions hidden in the three dots menu (…) at the end of a post.
Again, welcome. Feel free to ask questions. If you use community hashtags, others might answer also.
The US media is too cowardly to cover the [Hands off!] protests for fear of Trump.
I assume you mean on broadcast TV. I get my news on the web, not on TV. Here is what I found:
Fox News isn't covering. USA Today says there are thousands, not hundreds of thousands. Washington Post, NBC, and New York Times, are completely mute. However CBS and ABC have stories. PBS is full throated on the spot with live feeds. CNN has below the fold (10 stories+ down) coverage. Axios, AP, and Reuters are covering prominently. Local Los Angeles affiliate television websites are also following.
The young woman—no, teenage Martian—leapt up from her frog squat, unstrapping her respirator mask and removing thick rust-stained gloves when May Ri entered the dome. The place smelled of chemicals. Filter fans whirled loudly as she said, "I read that you want to build things. Right?" Slightly taller than than the Earther, she reached out a hand, smiling.
"Right." They shook. Warm, firm.
"Didn't get to finish school before the emergency boarding call? I got you assigned to me. I'll be your teacher. Isn't that nice?"
Emergency boarding, May Ri thought. A euphemism for kidnapping. Not this girls fault.
The woman squatted, like a frog. Her thighs showed muscles, which in 1/3rd gravity spoke volumes. May Ri sat beside her. She saw no EM Mars tattoo anywhere on her body, easy enough since the Martian basically wore skimpy tight underwear despite the temperature being at most 12ºC. Some sort of synth silk that outlined too much, with rubber-soled powder blue knit socks. She displayed serious curves, but only needed the tight black tank top on Mars to contain it. On Earth, scandalous; Decath propriety police would arrest her on the spot.
Pointing, the Martian said, "These cans are myco-expoxy. These bricks are shrooms grown with symbiotic proprietary algae and bacti." The cheerful egghead rambled on, thumping the rubber balloon outer dome membrane to show where the bricks would go.
"What's your name?" May Ri asked.
The girl stopped short, looking shocked as if static electricity had jumped between them. Redheaded, faintly freckled but with Asian eyelids, and very innocently sexy, her grey eyes blinked. "Um. S-sorry. I'm the first nisei—" First generation. "Reina Itō. Most people call me Onēsanue, which is kind of stupid." She continued her mycological construction techniques lecture.
When May Ri held up a hand, Reina interjected, "No fears! I'm teaching you all about martian building techniques and engineering because you missed out. I'm tops in it! I've got all the books."
She looked the age to be growing out of dolls and rebelling against her mother's clothing choices. It said something about Martian society, but May Ri wasn't sure what. "How old are you?"
"Just turned 7." She grinned brightly, holding up a left hand with long fingers. She proved her age by one thing: a barely suppressed squeal as she rotated a rusted-and-waxed steel ring on her fourth finger. It had a pebble texture that might be interpreted as artsy.
May Ri blinked, shook her head unable to not convert in her head: 13 years, 2 months? "The ring?"
Now Reina smiled. "Roger paid for it. He's on the Belt Asteroid Assessment crew. I married him on vid downlink on my birthday. He's a very cute hardworking import, like you, though kind of quiet, your age, and he'll be returning on resupply in half a year for our honeymoon!"
A Martian half-year. Reina bounced in her squatting position with tendons of elastic, but it was low gravity. May Ri thought it fortunate that no men were there to witness the spectacle. The movement caught her like a magnet to steel.
"We are going to be the people-glue that makes Mars strong, my sansei children and I. Can't wait. Sooooo excited...!" #RSMarsNeededWomen 04
The day May Ri found an advert for the EM Mars Colonization effort wasn't a good one. During school prayer in history class, she moved her mouth with her head down, reading her book plate instead. She hadn't suspected the substitute teacher could read lips.
"Miss Ri, continue alone."
When she did an imitation of a gasping fish, the whole 9th grade history class watching, the teacher asked, "Were you even praying?"
May Ri went from embarrassed to angry in a heart beat. "I'm an a-theist. What do you think?"
That got her a meeting with the public school's Decath minister. Her father had told her to hide it, that the laws made pro forma good enough so long as she didn't hurt the feelings of her classmates—but it depended on the believer you mouthed off to.
When she later told Reverend Peters, "I don't have an invisible friend like you do," the elderly man smiled, turned away, hands behind his back, to look out at Lake Le Salle from their vantage on the 95th floor of the Chicago Lakeshore arcology. After minutes being ignored, she stepped beside him, to examine the expanse of blue water, framed by storm clouds to the north, wondering what caught his gaze.
He said, "Makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn't it? God knows you are. What are you planning on when you grow up?"
"I—I like building things. I can do maths."
"Not happening."
Her face heated up as he added, "You lack the necessary blessings. Let me explain it in a way even a girl can understand—" His lips were pursed as his brown eyes caught her gaze.
Only then did she realize she'd begun to sweat, that the temperature in the room was dropping quickly.
"Learn to keep your mouth shut," he said, counting on his fingers, lifting his forefinger. "Some man will marry you not because you are passably pretty but because you look strong enough to bear healthy sons." Another finger. "Become a housewife, do as he tells you, keep quiet, and allow him to teach the blessing to his children." Another thin finger. "Do so and you may yet live a good life, if undeserving..."
After school, she studied the advert posted outside the admin office, later saving it to her book plate. EM Colonizations paid a premium for women, provided schooling. It was understood in not so many words that she needed to bear children, but all hands male and female were precious so she didn't fear that. She understood also that she'd be able to build things, that she'd be able to put to use any engineering skill she acquired. If she couldn't prove Peters wrong, starting that day she had a plan.
Becoming a revolutionary? That was something you don't plan for. #RSMarsNeededWomen 03
May Ri clanged the arm of the mining exoskeleton into the wall of the habitat, drawing sparks, blocking the onrushing man, cutting him off when he tried to dodge under—before flipping him backwards back down the corridor. Blood gushed from his nose to match what stained his hands.
"I have the right!" he yelled, arm across his face to stem the flow. "She's my wife!"
May Ri's footsteps clanged as she stomped forward. He slid himself back on the floor as the other women in the Vigilantes caught up. They'd used the ugly word, Vigilante, intentionally; women weren't allowed but needed to police their domes, or risk injury from stronger men who suddenly got ideas.
She said, "Your wife is an import, like me? You left her to give birth alone, to raise her daughter, and now you want to take that daughter away? To sell to your boss? Really? Your right?"
She looked at the harried women, some breathing hard, sweating. Faces gone pale in fear, others with wide eyes trying to process how cruel reality had once again smashed all sense of security. May Ri understood: if they kept the male returnees from the inner belt disaster locked out of the habitat long enough, they'd have to capitulate. However, if she failed to demonstrate now that the Vigilantes could hold firm when a man broke his wife's arm, beating her to have his way—
He yelled back, "Marrying her off to a better life? Yes! Who are you to argue a man's God given right—?"
"Really?" she interrupted. Women had never had reliable rights, if you trusted history hadn't been rewritten. She didn't. She'd read books made of paper, yellowed, that smelled of centuries past! Her five kilogram gauntleted hand already in motion, she screamed, "Mars is not Earth! It never will be!" #RSMarsNeededWomen
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.
#PennedPossibilities 595 — How does your SC feel about your MC’s temper or lack thereof?
This MC is the DJ I've mentioned a few times. After a demon gets unsealed, she is the only one to bow and swear fealty to a world-ending evil that gets sealed away hours later. The MC was 15. All she ended up doing was stopping a stampede by standing in the flow and glaring. Nobody learns her affiliation, that she's actually evil—her opinion; nobody would agree if asked.
Everybody knows in the face of danger to others, she's forgotten how to fear. You don't get knighted by a demon and not lose something.
A succession of SCs know her flaw. They don't want her outrage to flare into anger. They don't want to see her throw herself selflessly into fights when monsters appear—playing chicken with a creature that rewrites reality, trying to get a giant to trip and fall off a cliff, saving children from an invasion of slavers... Other than her lack of fear, she's just a DJ. Her true heroism has nothing to do with the situations she ends up fighting through most of her stories, or the damage she takes. The SCs to a one try to talk her down, and feel bad as her scars, physical and mental, accumulate.
I now realize that what I took as a reply was an original post—not a reply to a perceived provocative incident. It made a point—like dumping pots and pans in the street past midnight will wake the neighbors—regardless of whether or not the intent was to redress a grievance. I need to reassess my response to this post and similar ones based on the head of the thread as well as the responses.
[Being blocked or badmouthed about not using alt text, likely by accident or having not k own about it in the first place.]
@kentpitman I use the service @alt_text to remind me when I oops and forget the alt text. Got dinged today; fixed it. I consider angry responses that assume a person is bad in such cases the worst bullying, and incredibly counterproductive. A gentle nudge saying, "Adding #alttext to images expands your audience to people who'll well appreciate your effort," both more effective and more Mastodonian. Often I put important extra info in the alt text and state it will behoove sighted people to read it.
Lack of education and the conservative attack on any non-parochial education explains a lot. Ignorance and lack of questioning leads to authoritarianism; it is all about power and controlling people's minds by teaching them not to think. Interesting article attached.
@briankrebs If you're close to retirement, the package should count as income. Might be a deal for some.
FYI: This is how companies like Boeing downsize and lose their best older employees, with the result you've seen in the news about Boeing. (From an insider who retired with such a package and is consulting for way more.)
I turned off #Apple#Intelligence because not only did it write things resembling "My grandfather fell out of one of those things and died when he was a baby," they made it so that if you press the space bar twice (which used to insert a period) now will insert that frequently used phrase or sentence ending instead. If you're typing and not reading what you're typing, chances are you're gonna say some very strange things.
I could probably go up on a rant on this, but when did people decide that #writing ought to be dumbed down to what everybody else is saying, rather than using your brain to come up with something eloquent to move your audience? Are we really that lazy?
Yeah, I see the root causes: Greedy corporations wanting to jump onto the next big thing, Gullible #programmers racing to #code the killer feature and bonuses rather than judging the worthiness of the feature. It's a little bit like radium and watch dials, which I brought back for one of my stories with a twist. Madam Curie died because science didn't understand something essential about radioactivity, yet, and who knows how many cases of lung cancer resulted from the glow in the dark watches.
The problem with #AI and ethics is training, the source. A good writer takes training, and that includes willing teachers, reading, experience writing, and feedback. A good AI requires the same thing, they call the feedback "curation." That's "educating" it what is crap and what is gold. Moreover, the training ought be done on the writing of the person using the AI, or by willing and well paid teachers, and I really don't get why Apple didn't take this tack and create something truly useful to that writer.
My best guess why not? The psychology of their perceived user: The need for instant gratification. If we train each AI the way we train each human student, where's the ability to cut out the labor and mass produce writers?
I want the personally trained #AI that can fill in the missing word that's at the tip of my tongue, that can reliably flag my recurring grammar errors, that can complete my sentences with the accuracy of my spouse of decades. As an SF writer or as an essayist, it should recognize my idiosyncratic vocabulary and not autocorrect it, to the point of accepting new words or phrases. It astounds me that AI contribution isn't color-coded in a ADA safe way during composition to show where the writer might want to verify the generated contributions. That all auto correct auto complete doesn't do this is a serious set back to the technology.
Okay, I ranted.
A big thank you to @vextaur for the discussion I sourced this from.
@RaymondPierreL3 Don't see it that way. I've been using Apple since I got an original Apple ][ . Windows was work related. I've no interest in *nix systems; programming for non-remunerative FOSS projects and using screwy but FREE open source crap makes Windows look logical and user friendly. Paragon NTFS just failed in my Sequoia update and I've no reason to more than patch with trialware to get rid of the recurring headache. ExFat might be better, but I'm just not worried about compatibility right now. I want mass storage to work on my devices outa the box.
RS, pronounced /är' əs/. Professional #SF #fiction writer coming back from burn-out. Writes character-driven #SFF (science fiction #fantasy) and some #fanfiction (#MLP). #ClarionWest 98 graduate. #SFWA life member. Studied non-western culture, #folklore, and #mythology. #Feminist #Writer and #Author in the #WritingCommunity #WritersOfMastodon.Goals: Return to paid publication. Provide interesting content for followers. Make friends; attract colleagues. See intro post for more...#NOAI #NOBOT