Margaret Atwood has another television adaptation of one of her shows headed to Netflix, this one based on Alias Grace, described as a “Gothic historical fiction about a real-life murder in 1843 Canada.” I’m in. (via /Film)
- Over at Queerty, David Reddish explores how the new It remake omits some of the book’s themes around queerness and homophobia.
- Class, the spinoff based on Doctor Who, is officially dead in the water. I know I’m a bit disappointed, as I really actually enjoyed the show. (via io9)
The pun-lover in me adores this: there’s apparently a band out there named Koi Division, which is a fish-based play on the classic English rock/post-punk band Joy Division. Yesssss. (via Geekologie)
- Futurama fans, take note: the show’s coming back, only this time, it’s in radio play form. I’m not even kidding. (via io9)
So, okay. I wanted to take a moment here and maybe get a little sappy. As I announced previously on Twitter, today’s my last day working here at The Mary Sue. At the risk of falling into some tropes that often plague “goodbye”-type posts, I’ll say that it’s been one hell of an experience working on this site. As a lot of you may or may not know, The Mary Sue was my first full-time non-freelancing writing gig. Before The Mary Sue, I hopped from industry to industry, trying to find a place where I felt like I fit in. Though I thoroughly enjoyed most of my past jobs, for one reason or another, I always felt like I didn’t quite belong.
That all changed when I joined The Mary Sue.
When I started here, I often explained to people that I felt a bit lucky in landing my job here at The Mary Sue. Fun story: I applied to be a weekend editor, but ended up missing out on the role, initially. I started contributing to the site, and after a few months, I woke up to an e-mail from Jill Pantozzi, the site’s former Editor-in-Chief, asking me if I wanted to hop on for that very role.
It was, to be honest, such a validating moment. Before, despite pulling down some bylines (that I’m damn proud of) at Model View Culture and (the old) Bold Italic, I worried that my writing wasn’t actually worthwhile; I worried that what I had to say didn’t really matter to too many people. Getting that e-mail from Jill meant the world to me. Even now, two and a half years later, I struggle with the right words to say, and I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be, but if I can possibly get across even one measure of a single feeling, it is this: I am so thoroughly grateful for everybody I’ve had the honor of working with here on this site.
Jill, Sam Maggs, Carolyn, Teresa, Dan, Alanna, Charline, Vivian, Kaila, Daniella, Sam Riedel, Keisha, Carly, Maddy, and Alec: you’ve all been some of the most amazing people to work with, and on the days when this eternal hellscape of a news cycle threatened to get me down, you were all there to bravely, admirably remind me why what we do is so very god damned important. To me, you’re all examples of what an opinionated, fearless news team should look like, and you’ll forever stay in my memory as some of my most favorite people, period.
I just want to also especially thank Jill for taking a chance on me, giving a random, opinionated, rough-around-the-edges, full-of-piss-and-vinegar woman a chance to build not just a career, but a life as well.
I also want to thank you, dearest, dearest reader. Everyone I’ve ever spoken to about The Mary Sue has said the same thing: we have the best commenters and readers on the internet. It was a surprise to me to see how supportive, welcoming, and downright lovely the TMS community was, and I’ll never, ever forget that. We’ve certainly had our share of differences, but I’ve always respected your views and your passions. Thank you for being you.
And so, for the last time, I want to ask: What’d you see today, dear friend?
Want more stories like this? Become a subscriber and support the site!
—The Mary Sue has a strict comment policy that forbids, but is not limited to, personal insults toward anyone, hate speech, and trolling.—
Have a tip we should know? firstname.lastname@example.org