That’s it. That’s the post. I have finally shed the post-Covid brain fog. And to anyone suffering from “long Covid”: I have tasted a tiny bit of your pain and I offer every bit of sympathy and funding you require to navigate this blameless nightmare.
Ok, here’s the rest of the post, because AS IF that’s all I’ve got to say.
I have hated writing this book. Every word, every freaking *keystroke* was a gargantuan effort requiring all my will. Up until the last week. Now it’s a dream come true, the chapters falling together like someone else wrote them for me and I just have to fit them together. A perfect side character stepped fully formed out of my brain and performed a key role in the story while earning himself a lead role in a future book.
People…this is going to work.
“This” being my delusional but totally achievable dream of making a living from writing what I want. I’m releasing six books this year, not counting the short stories and re-launches. I’m writing at least four, one of which is going to be done by the end of the week. I have never felt more engaged with my writing career.
2023 is my year. Yeah, right, we’re not supposed to say that anymore. This is supposed to be a year for heaving a sigh of relief. As a card-carrying Discordian (look it up yourself, ‘kay? Providing succinct answers is as close as we get to a mortal sin) I’ve waited my entire life for this numerological opportunity. Me and the goddess, we’re lighting this year up like you’ve never seen.
the soundtrack to my revival: Bop x Subwave’s set from the release party for their album “Renaissance.’ I have listened to this slapper of a set twice a day, every day since it dropped last month. Tell me you’re a 90’s kid…













