10 things that made my 2016 (a little) better

For most people, 2016 was a fucked up, miserable, factually terrible dumpster fire of a year. Icons died, racists thrived, and everywhere you looked, someone else was telling you not to be so upset, not to take it all personally, and not to worry because they were still getting what they wanted out of life, so that must mean you’re overreacting…

No, you’re not.

Icons matter because they tell us we live in a world where our aspirations are possible, and politics matter because the choices politicians make affects every bit of our existence, and racists matter because their willingness to be vocal and noticed in major ways means that a) racism never really left*, and b) they think society is swinging back to the old, oppressive, whites-first, straight people first, ablebodied people first, and especially, aggressively, men first, ways.

* I know it never left. That’s obvious to anyone who isn’t white, and to anyone who spends any time with and caring about people who aren’t white, or even actually listening to the white racist folks all around us. But a lot of well-meaning people convinced themselves that we were living post-racially, and need the reminder that the fight for equality, in this way especially, is not nearly over.

We need to see the awful, horrible, bits of 2016 so we can fight against them. Dismissing the people who are upset about this year because it’s not been horrible to you, yet, just means you have enough privilege to have avoided what a lot of other people are going through, and you’re a selfish jackass.

But.

Recognizing that the world has been on fire doesn’t mean you can’t also appreciate the cool sips of water you manage to find in between the flames. Seeing and holding on to the good makes it possible to survive the bad, and maybe even fuel the fight against it. My 2016 has been hard not just for the larger, global reasons, but for very personal ones that mainly affect… just me. I struggled. I hurt. I was afraid, and I still am.

But… I found good in the year, too. In no particular order, here’s 10 things that got me through:

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1. Arrival. I’d read the Ted Chiang story several times before, and the movie is not quite the story — which was itself, brilliant  — but in its own way, as a translation of Chiang’s story (which is about, in part, translation)… it’s beautiful. It said things to me that I needed to hear. I got to see it just a few weeks ago, in a mostly-empty theater, at a Sunday matinee, with the love of my life, and it was a perfect couple of hours. It was a moment I needed very badly just then, and I’m so grateful I got it in exactly that way, with that person.

2. Destiny. Yes, the video game. I stumbled on the free trial at the beginning of December, found out a couple of writer/agent friends were also playing, and jumped in. I love it enough that I was given the full copy as a gift a week later, just because my happiness was obvious. The game is gorgeous, the voice actors are recognizable in a way that adds to the game (rather than distracting too much from it) and I’m good at it. When I do well, I get prizes. Yay!

I also like that it’s very mission oriented, which for me means that I can play through a mission or strike in about 20 minutes, and then I have to pause. I might have to go talk to someone to get the next mission, or turn in my engrams (they’re like… virtual carnival tickets) to get my loot, or dump stuff I’ve got too much of, but it’s a moment for my brain to think, “Ok, that’s done.” I play one mission, and then I go do other things. I’ve had favorite games before that easily lent themselves to day- or week-long binges, and if I did that with Destiny, I’d feel so guilty that it’d ruin the game for me. This is a self-indulgent fun that doesn’t interfere with me actually accomplishing things, and that’s exactly what I needed from it.

I need fun. Plus, the game devs have a lot of fun with the game. This trailer, for a new racing bike option in the latest update, is exactly what I mean.

3. The support of people I mostly know online. Other writers, fans of my fiction, students of my workshop, clients, and people who just like what I have to say have been a constant source of happiness this year. From virtual hugs to holiday cards to emails and tweets — it’s all a reminder that I am part of a larger community that cares about my well being and wants me to write more, to succeed in life. Even though I didn’t get out to any conventions this year, and won’t for at least part of next year; even though I don’t live in a big city, and often feel cut off from the writers I’ve gotten to know… I’m not entirely absent from their thoughts.

I appreciate you all, so much.

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4. My son. I rarely post about him publicly because I generally think that’s a very bad idea, but I will say that he’s doing well. He’s taller than me now, which is something we’re both getting used to, and he’s trying to find his way through those awkward teen years that’d have been difficult even if he didn’t have a serious speech disorder and an an absent father and a mother who doesn’t make enough money to do much with him. He could be an angry, selfish, terrible kid… and he’s not. He struggles, but he learns, and he is kind when I need him to be, and he loves me without reservation. As hard as it has been to figure out what he needs and how to give it to him, and as much as I sometimes resent people who have it so much easier, I’m very lucky to have this particular child. He’s a good person, and I don’t ever want to let him down.

5. The Affordable Care Act. It saved my life.

6. My bullet journal. My person has been using this system for a couple of years. He would show it to me when I asked, but never pushed it on me. Never insisted it would change my life, or anything like that. It just worked for him, and he, quietly, like he does, went on using it. Earlier this year, I finally said, “I think this might work for me, too. Can you explain it to me?” Right after work, he came over with a new Leuchtturm 1917 journal book, and walked me through exactly how to make bullet journaling fit what I needed it to do. I’ve been using it ever since as a combination diary/to do list, and it’s helped me keep days sorted from each other, plus let me look back and see how much I really am getting done, on days where I feel like I’m slacking. I feel more organized and I’ve kept on top of things I know I’d otherwise have forgotten.

(Want to try it? Start here.)

7. Deciding on life plans for the next couple of years. We sat down  a couple of times this year, and talked through what we all needed (he, and I, and us together, and us with my son) and outlined the future. I’m making some big changes, and following through on some old plans. Right now, life is still hard, especially financially, but if everything goes according to plan, that’s going to change soon enough. Where I am in a couple of years should be dramatically different from where I am now, and I can’t wait.

8. My ADHD medication. If you need help to keep your brain, or body, functioning, there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone is different, and while celebrating our differences is important and good, it’s also okay to realize that some differences might be keeping us from living — or thinking — the way we want to. As much as it’s acceptable to get a cast put on a broken leg, it should also be acceptable to seek medication for a disorder like ADHD, if it’s serious enough to impact your daily life. In my case, having ADHD is like trying to juggle a dozen different thoughts at any given moment, and forgetting half of them when I try to focus on any one. With the medication, I can hold on to a train of thought for long enough to act on it, and I stop doing things like burning food I suddenly forgot I was cooking. It doesn’t give me super powers, but it makes a big liability into a small one, so rather than trying to run a marathon while also being chained to an anchor, I’m trying to run a marathon while also feeling a bit lazy and wearing uncomfortable shoes. Things become possible, but I still have to do the work. Which, I think, is fair.

9. My midnight trip to Columbus, OH. I snuck away to join my person in Columbus, OH, for a day of touristy reminiscing about where and how he lived when he was younger. It was my only real adventure this year, a sudden, spontaneous, whirlwind of travel that involved more time on a bus (there and back) than we were actually in Columbus, but it was totally worth it.

10. My partner, my buddy, my love, my person. He knows why.

I hope you had people and moments in 2016 that were worth remembering, even as we celebrate this year finally coming to an end.

 

The ACA saved my life, and we’re about to lose it.

There’s a lot to say about the election of Trump to be our next President, and I’m going to say it all, soon. The thing that hitting me the most though, right this minute, is that if he succeeds in taking away the Affordable Care Act (aka “Obamacare”), I’ll lose my current insurance.

Congress already has a plan in place (from 2015) which would use the budget reconciliation process to gut the ACA with only a simple majority, which the Republicans have. No filibuster allowed; it’s over in one vote. From healthaffairs.org:

Both houses of Congress passed reconciliation legislation that would have repealed the premium tax credits; the small business tax credit; the individual mandate, the employer mandate; the expansion of Medicaid coverage for adults up to 138 percent of the federal poverty level, presumptive eligibility, maintenance of effort, and benchmark plans for Medicaid; and the ACA’s taxes—the medical device tax, insurer fee, “Cadillac” high cost plan tax, and tax increases imposed on the wealthy—most of the provisions that the public identifies as “Obamacare.”

Without the tax credits which would greatly reduce my payments for a different marketplace insurance — especially given my preexisting conditions — I can’t afford to buy a replacement. Trump’s proposals (Health Savings Accounts, insurers allowed to sell plans across state lines, imported medications from overseas, keeping your kids on it until 26) won’t help me at all.

As a freelancer — the only job I can hold while still caring for my son’s special needs — I don’t have employer coverage. I don’t make enough to put into an HSA. Buying from one insurance company vs another doesn’t mean the prices will be affordable; “affordable” for me is literally whatever I can avoid spending on food and heating gas for my apartment. I don’t have extra money for health insurance when the coverage I have is taken away.

I’ll be without.

Without the ACA-provided health insurance, I wouldn’t have been properly screened for my health issues this year. I wouldn’t have had surgery in June to remove part of my thyroid. They wouldn’t have discovered my cancer when it was still small and treatable.

If I hadn’t gotten health insurance through the marketplace this year, I wouldn’t be getting it next year under President Trump, and then maybe not for another 4 or 6 or 8 years after that.

I wouldn’t have survived that long with undetected cancer. The ACA saved my life. (And it was going to keep on saving my life by providing me with the health care I need to watch out for new cancer, the medication I need to manage my ADHD so I’m a more productive worker, and limiting the amount I spend out of pocket so I can still put a little food on the table.) That’s now in jeopardy.

I have to figure out how to pay for new insurance when the time comes because I need it. I have to survive this vile “leader” who doesn’t care if I live or die. So, I’m already planning and budgeting for a future under Trump.

If you want to, and can, help, please consider:

Thank you.

 

The 4 jobs I have (Other than Writing)

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As a freelancer, without a dayjob office to go to or set shifts, I end up working every day, and some days, weeks, blend together. To better organize my life, I track it — what I get done (and what I don’t), if I sleep, eat, take my medication, how I feel. With that data, I now know that my life is chronically overbooked, and most of jobs are unpaid. And, most of what I do isn’t what I wish I was: writing.

Freelancer: This is my dayjob (night job, weekend job). What I do for a living, the editing and content creation part, I love. The business side of it is hard, stressful, and I’m underpaid. (I don’t make enough enough month to pay my bills, putting me further into debt each month, and part of my job is to chase down more work, to remind clients to pay me… which doesn’t always happen.) I have some flexibility, though, which I badly need so I can do all of the other jobs I have, too.

Child care/advocate/special needs teacher: I’m the only parent and full-time caregiver for a very bright boy with a serious speech disorder, so I spend several hours a week being not only his mom, but his teacher, and the connection between him and the rest of the world. I have meetings with his school, his speech therapist, and the county agency that acts as the state intermediary. I interview and hire his staff, research therapies, take him to doctor’s appointments, manage his medication, and create different exercises to teach him new words in different contexts. Plus the parenting bit — feeding him and buying clothes when he grows and snuggling him when he’s sick. I’m happy to do it, no matter how much time it takes, but it does take time, every day, and I don’t have help to do it.

Housekeeper/Cook/Home and item repairs: All the things you need to do in order to keep your house clean? I do that. Cleaning up after a child? I do that. All the shopping, cooking, and figuring out how to feed us well on a small budget — which means lots of cooking from scratch — is on me, too. Because I can’t afford to replace anything, or hire anyone to fix things, I do all of that as well. On a given week this might be sewing up a ripped shirt, gluing a wooden chair back together, or  — this week — diagnosing a plumbing problem, ripping out a toilet (including cutting out rusted bolts) and replacing it with a new one, to save the labor cost my landlord would have charged. When you’re poor, you learn to fix a lot of things. I actually feel lucky that I’m capable of doing as much as I am.

Nutritionist/Trainer/Medical Care: There’s been a lot of this, the last couple of months. Surgery for the thyroid cancer, and then getting tested for everything my new insurance will cover, has meant changes to what I eat (anemic and lactose intolerant means more iron and less dairy, to start with). In the process of being sick, I put on almost 80 pounds I didn’t want, so now I have to get it back off, and learning to do that safely at this size has been a new challenge. I’ve had doctor’s appointments or blood tests almost every week for 3 months — this week alone I have four appointments and lab work. I have three daily medications (soon to be four) and a weekly one, that need to be taken at certain times, and a rescue inhaler for when I exercise. Like everything else, learning what’s causing me to be unhealthy so that I can work to be healthy takes a lot of time.

Between each of these “jobs”, I don’t leave the house as much as I’d like to. I don’t go out. I don’t watch much tv. I don’t read enough to make me happy, or sleep enough, or take a day off. Trying to find time to write fiction in the spaces these other tasks don’t occupy feels impossible, and my to do list is neverending. The stress over not being able to reliably pay my rent causes me a lot of worry, and honestly, I’m afraid on a regular basis.

But I love to write. I think it’s the thing that is going to matter the most, at the end of my life. It’s the way I can make a little bit of a difference in the world. Maybe a tiny difference, but I’ll take it if I can get it.

So, with every task and every worry I’ve got weighing me down, I still look for writing time every day. I’m not going to give up.

If you love writing too, you shouldn’t stop looking for time to write either. We can do it together.

Updates and News (August 2016 edition), or, Damn, That Was the Hardest Month

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In August:

I fell apart a bit.

I’ve said it before but this year has proven to me that the last 3 weeks of August (and the first week of September) are the hardest “month” of the year. That’s partly because of having my son home 24 hours a day without any respite, or break, or money to go out and do anything. His school year starts later than most; his first day back wasn’t until September 8, and by then, we were both ready for him to go.

We had to sit in our too-warm apartment all month — our landlord won’t let us put in an A/C unit — because it was too hot to be outside and at least we have some fans indoors. I still had to work as much as possible, and my hyperactive teen quickly became bored bored bored. With his special needs, I can’t send him out to play alone at the park, or go ride a bike, or any of the things I used to do to fill my summer days, all by myself as a kid. He’s an independent guy for the most part, wanting to play his video games or watch his favorite movies over and over for hours at a time. But even he gets tired of that much faster than I need if I’m going to put in a day’s work the way I can when he’s in school or camp.

The heat at the end of summer here is something I’m still getting used to. Growing up in California, we had heat. Hotter days. Lying out on the roof or in the grass that was dry and gone yellow, baking under the sun — my dog days of summer was late August dry heat, 100 degrees or more with no moisture in the air, and the utter joy of a sudden breeze. Here… it’s 90 degrees that feels like 95 because of 75% humidity and scattered rain every few afternoons that does nothing to cut the heat. I live in New York, but it feels like the summer I spent in Georgia, and like the bible school my aunt enrolled me in while I was there, I haven’t gotten used to it yet.

The best kid ever gets fidgety and then grumpy and then outright rebellious, given enough time trapped in a hot apartment with his mom who’s too busy and too poor to do much with him.

We did have one good adventure when I splurged on the gas on drove out to a Wal-Mart the next county over to do his back-to-school clothes shopping. Driving over the hills, the farms all green and growing, under a bright blue sky, the two of us played a game where we gave each other colors and picked out passing cars that matched. He got new clothes (not enough, but at least he wasn’t a shambles on his first day back), and a new haircut at the Wal-Mart salon (I didn’t even know they had those, did you?), and five whole dollars to spend in the arcade (I didn’t know Wal-Mart had those, either).

He was driving the Nascar game (of course) when a little girl sat at the Fast and Furious game next to him. She and her grandma couldn’t figure out how to get started, so Logan — silently — reached over and set it up so she could race the car she wanted, then went back to his game. Kid can barely speak, but he’s so smart and sweet and he didn’t just figure out what they were struggling with, but he wanted to help.

As hard as raising him is, and it is, a lot, my son always reminds me that he’s worth everything I do for him. Continue reading

Updates and News (June 2016 edition)

A new thing I’m trying out: I’m going to start each month with a quick list of updates, and news you might have missed. That way, I know everyone who follows me online has seen them, and I don’t have to plaster the internet with handbills.

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There’s. Just. So. Many. Bills.

Ready? Here we go…

In June, I had surgery to remove half my thyroid, found out I had (but no longer have) cancer, and spent most of the month recovering. I’m better now.

I finished the general education portion of school (mostly through transferring classes in, but some I took here), yay! Because I owe money to my college before I can register for fall, I’m putting together a small collection of my Mythos fiction. You can help me out by pre-ordering it via PayPal for $2, or donating to the fundraiser in exchange for rewards like podcasts and beta reads and art.

This collection will have 5 stories; two were previously published by Chaosium, and the other three have never been seen before. I’ve started sharing excerpts:

I still need $695 to make this happen, so please consider telling your friends.

In June I also sold three stories – two reprints and an original – to three magazines. I’ve signed contracts for two, so I shared the news about one sale so far, “One Echo Of An August Morning” to Kaaterskill Basin Literary Journal. Click here for more information on that.

I shared two poems with my readers last month. One was “Ephyra” – a short poem inspired by the place where mythic women and jellyfish meet. The other was “The Wanderer’s Lament”, an Old West-theme ballad in the style of cowboy songs. I posted that to my Patreon page, unlocked and open to the public. You can read “Ephyra” by clicking the link, and over here is the “The Wanderer’s Lament“.

In other, not good news: I’ve no work for July, and bills/rent already [past] due. Time for a sale on editing services! I’m experienced, available, and desperately need to fill a last minute cancellation, even book ahead, so I’m offering 50% OFF EVERY EDITING SERVICE. You can find me at  or use my contact form here.

If you like my work as an editor, please share this sale with anyone who might be interested.

I’m in a hard spot, financially, that I haven’t been in for a while. It’s tough not to feel as if it’s one step forward, two steps back, but I know overall life has been better lately, and with the medical stuff out of the way now, I can focus on work. Writing, editing, making a career and a name for myself. If it seems like I’m trying to monetize everything I can, well, I am. I’m doing every kind of work I can do under the circumstances to support myself and my son; freelancing, side gigs, the Mythos project, you name it. I hope there’s something in there that appeals to you, that you can support.

Now, on to July…

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