On Nanowrimo.

Prior to yesterday at work I had no intention of actually doing Nanowrimo this year.

I had no ideas, no plan, nothing.

And then after a few awful false starts a thing started to happen.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it but a while back I started my first attempt at an epic fantasy type thing and wrote very little. I don’t think that is my jam.

And now this.

I’m writing what I’m going to say is urban fantasy fiction about people of color. It takes place in Seattle and thus far I am not including Whiteness beyond the stuff people of color talk about all the time.

At least not as the main draw or the main magical tradition.

What feels the best right now even though my actual plan is still not a plan, is that my main magical POC is a Magical Black girl.

Do you have any idea how much that means to me?

She is foul mouthed, overly sensitive, has a particular weakness for threesomes with fae folk of varying sorts and gives not one fuck. Not. One.

There is also a Brazilian battle witch, made to fuck shit up, and she gives not one fuck about that. She is coming from a place where she has had to fight tooth and nail to not only hold on to her identity as a witch under the thumb of a rogue Catholic sect but her identity as a Black person who is both sexualized and desexualized because she is dark and clearly Black. She does not give a fuck she is not here for that.

This is on the heels of yet another awful racist twitter hashtag fuckarow. I don’t want to rehash it but honestly it hurts my fucking soul. The daily proof that Black people, Black women especially can’t have fucking anything ever just breaks my heart. I’m so full of that heartbreak doing Nanowrimo this year is serving me a bigger purpose. it is therapeutic. In this world I am creating, I don’t have to fucking deal with people who think it’s funny to essentially wish me out of existence because I am a Black woman.

Honestly in the last month I have seen more aggressive racism and the sort where Nice White People just don’t realize how racist they are being than I have in a while and it is taking a toll.

As I said in this essay (which yes I know I should take down and redo but I don’t want to) and this one there is no safe quarter for me anywhere. There is literally nowhere on the internet where I am safe from racism. There isn’t anywhere I am safe from sizeism. No LOLS, no nothing.

The other day I spent 45 minutes taking racist comments off of a video I made about how to oil treat your hair.

As an antidote to this I”m doing the ONE thing I know how to do and that works. I’m making my own world. And you know what at the end it might suc but I will probably make it available for sale anyway because this world needs more magical POC. It needs more safe places for us.

I’m also wearing the most glorious purple wig and am a glamorous mother fucker because if I can’t find safety I can at least wear fucking armor.

Here’s a gratuitous photo:



I have decided that until I see fit to stop I’m going to look the way I want to as long as I feel like it.

I’m ready for war at this point.

If I hit 9K by Weds I’ll post a good chunk of the thing.

So that’s all.


2 thoughts on “On Nanowrimo.

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