Oh my head!

Is there a rule somewhere that says the women in SF/F cover art must look like they're just copypasta of fashion models, except with bigger boobs?

I went surfing around a few of the sites of artists who do the covers for SF/F books and I swear I've seen some of those women in the advertisements and fashion shoots for Vogue or Vanity Fair or something like that. One picture - which I shall not link here - featured a model with slicked back hair standing behind something and I realized that I'd seen nearly that exact same pose, model, and body type in an advertisement for body wash.

Somebody really needs to do something about SF/F cover art's representations of women. Like, right now. Because no matter how revolutionary the text, if we (the larger we) are still representing it using old, harmful standards of beauty when it comes to women and people of color, we're taking two steps forward and two steps back.

Which, if you do the math, leaves us exactly where we started. And I'd really, really like to be somewhere different than where SF/F is right now. Somewhere that has less tramp stamps and improbably tight fitting leather (seriously? How do you fight demons and vampires wearing that stuff? And how do you not sound like a walking fart machine when it starts squeaking? God, the chafing must be unreal!) on the cover of urban fantasy novels.

Just once, I'd like to see a cover which features a model wearing practical shoes. High heels are great for cocktail parties, but when it comes to fighting off the monstrous undead, I recommend a solid pair of Nikes. Because otherwise you're going to fracture your ankle during a battle and get eaten. And I will not feel sorry for you because anyone who tries to fight a vampire while wearing a pair Manolo Blahniks is sealing their own fate.

Mah frustrations, let me show you thems

My frustration with the UF!2girls novel has now reached epic levels. I feel like a piano player just banging on the keys making terrible noises come out.

I'm worried about a lot of things, I feel like I'm writing drivel, and I have absolutely no frame of reference right now for what actually sucks and what is just my own hang up.

I keep telling myself that all I can do is finish the damn thing and decide later, when I've had a bit of time and distance to clear my head and get a more objective point. Great novels aren't written, they're edited, right?

It's just I already can see mistakes I'm making, and I wonder if the idea is trite or stupid. I wonder if my characters are two dimensional. I wonder if the research I'm doing on the Chinese bits of the novel are just a thin veil for hurtful appropriation or if I'm getting them totally wrong. I wonder if my skanky race issues are showing through at every turn. I wonder if I'm making my female characters into Mary Sues. I wonder if my prose is clumsy. I wonder if my plot meanders. I wonder if the book is going too slow or too fast.

Like I said, epic frustration. It doesn't help that it's hot enough that we have now turned on the air conditioning in the apartment because it's 90 degrees inside. At least it's not so humid we can't breathe.

The only comforts I have are that I have yet to meet a writer who didn't have these types of frustrations and that I almost always feel differently after I've finished a novel and given it some breathing room. Whatever does suck about it, I can always edit out later.