It's been a
while. I don't think I'll ever contribute here again regularly, but I'll always have a certain amount of fondness for this place. I miss the people. And I can trace my growth as a writer through my own contributions.
What's happening with me:
I work in a converted church near an architecturally significant ruin. It's just south of a major river, and as a result the area is often suffused in fog. Nearby is a cemetery that local children in the 50s maintained harbored an eight foot tall vampire with steel teeth; they gathered in their numbers and went hunting for him with homemade weapons. There isn't often lightning here, but it has every other ingredient for gothic horror. It's a cold, gray afternoon. The pavements are all wet and slick, frozen over in patches and treacherous. I have a tedious report to write for the city council on something very important that affects a large number of our service users.
I'm tired, and horrified by the non-fatal lynching of Jussie Smollett. The racism and homophobia underpinning the hate crime reinforces some of my worst opinions about the US and its failure to deal with its historical legacy.
A relatively famous television writer has been harassing and insulting my spouse over the last few days.
My adopted country is moving rapidly towards a massive economic and political change with no real plan in place.
The news on the environment is not good, and I'm afraid we're too late to fix the worst of the damage we people have done.
I have been laboring over a very complicated short story for far too long, and I'm unconvinced I can sell it when I finish.
Despite this, I am in a much better place emotionally, mentally, physically than I was ten years ago. I feel like a much better person.
I have sold stories about mermaids and whaling and am waiting their publication date. They are the latest in a small, but growing, number of publication credits I've had since moving to Scotland. Montag is responsible for getting me to submit more often. People pay me to write things sometimes! One of my favorite artists illustrated a scene from my story!
I like where I work. I'm not paid enough, but I feel valued, and the work we do here has value. Spooky trappings aside, it's a kind place.
I can't say that I'm happy today, but I can say that I'm more often happy than unhappy, and that's as much as I've ever asked for.