Things that are happening.

I just finished reading my dear friend Anthony’s erotic novel Escapists: An Erotic Fantasy Novel.

I’ll be writing up a thing here but let me say that if you like erotica go buy it.


I have WAY more to say about it because of reasons that include I want to talk about erotica I love more and I am going to make an object lesson in doing it right. Next week.

I also am almost done reading Ayti by Roxane ‘With One N’ Gay which makes me sad and greedy. I will also write up a longer review about her but fuck man. Roxane killed me in some places in that little book in really beautiful ways. If you’re not already familiar with her work (really if you’re not what are you doing with your life?) go to her site and check her out.

I think I mentioned that I’ve been writing in a paper journal at night while I wait for the bus. Thursday night I wrote some shit that hurt and it was good and bad. It’s lumpy non fiction and memoirish. The thing that gets me though and why I probably won’t be a famous memorist is that some of the stuff I’m writing about, there’s no way to do it in a way that won’t fuck some people up.

My problem with that and some of my still languishing without rewrites essays is that, I don’t know if I feel at all ready for people outside of my brain to really see them. I don’t know how to make them less hurtful. They aren’t malicious but some of them aren’t nice.

I don’t know.

My first inclination on rereading my new pj (paper journal) things was to vomit on them.

I don’t know.

On the fiction/submission news.

I haven’t been writing a lot of new stuff. My stressful meatworld has muted me a bit. I still make sure I do some work every day but I know I can’t write quality when I’m so anxious.

I sent a couple of withdrawls. I hate doing that but I think that three polite queries over months and months not getting answered is reason enough. I get personally discouraged when I check the magazines stats and work that was submitted the week before had been responded to.

I always get paranoid and think the editors hate me, hate my work and hope I get fleas.

I honestly prefer a no over no contact whatever. Even a one word yes or no would be good.

My ego is smarting a little.

It is looking like my anxiety causing problems may finally (it’s been a year) have some resolution one way or another in a month.

I’m trying really hard to be gentle with myself and not jump off the crazytrain to lay over in freakoutville.

So I do what I do. I take pictures with my phone, play on tumblr.

I play with instagram (so silly how much I like it).

I am almost ready to sell shawls. That will ease some of my stress. (YAY MONEY/POOR PEOPLE PROBLEMS).

All that being what it is, I’m surviving without being an asshole to myself.

I had a little money to spend on myself and I’ve been sifting through books to buy on the internets.

I am such an omnivorous reader I just can’t decide what I want. I don’t get to buy books often so it’s overwhelming. Do I want some trashy comfort food type murder mystery, an anthology? Something random?

I’ll report back from the trenches.

What else?

I have to special things I’m working on. One is my first try at a more pulply noir type thing and one weird love story.

I have things to edit but now is not a good time for that.

With that I need to go to bed. Go buy those books. Come back and tell me if you do it will make me feel good.


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