Category Archives: writing life

I Wouldn’t Do This if I didn’t Have to.

I’m settling into a routine and at least three days a week I’m working 15 hour days.

Noon leave for the day job, walk back in the door about midnight give or take.

Get home, go pee, put jammies on and fire up the laptop and get to work.

I try to limit myself to working only until 2 AM so I can bathe and eat my dinner.

Last night I worked til 3. My neck hurts, I’m so tired. I had a difficult time getting out of bed because I haven’t bought a laptop desk yet.

But I got shit done.

Today I have been working on the Writer Finances.

My budget (here I’m talking money from writing related stuff not my household budget) is pretty much on lock. I’ve pared things down and currently my monthly expenses are:
Ginger- $6.40
Spotify- $11.00
Smarty Pig- $15
Flex spending- $20

That is most of my Patreon money as it sits right now and anything else I tuck away into savings.

The big problem I’m having right now is that I need to save up for AWP. I doubt I will go to DC or Florida for the next two.

So my decision is mostly made but the cost. Flying, accommodations for my partner and I, food, money for books and swag, money to do a couple of entertaining things. Between now and then we’re (partner and I) are facing:

  • Rent increase
  • His medication costs increasing
  • Electricity bill increase
  • We both need some new winter clothes
  • I need new glasses

Things are dire, but it’s going to be tight. More so if I am in fact gonna go to AWP.

My choices feel a bit limited. I could not write during the week and try to get a part time job. I don’t think my health would permit it for long.

And the other option is some more crowd funding.

I do have book sales trickling in, and the occasional etsy sale. I’ll be adding some more stuff back into the Etsy shop soon keep your eye out. But youknow, that stuff isn’t the fastest thing.

Now the crowd funding I would want to:

  • Defray the costs out of my household budget.
  • Print some promotional materials for my work.
  • Print some limited edition zines/individual things to sell. I’m 99% sure I can find someone who’d give me space at a table.

I’m looking at about 2K all in.

Two thousand dollars.

I just pooped a little. That would cover pretty much everything along without causing a whole lot of hardship on the household budget.

The things that bother me are:

  • Internalized class shame that I have to ask for that level of help from people who don’t know me.
  • Doing enough promotion so that reaching my goal is possible.
  • Not falling into a further shame hole because am I really that important to be going to this event?

So yeah.

I’m trying to work it out. I will likely do a fundraiser because if I don’t going will fuck up my family life and I can’t have that.

Now coming up, I have a beta test of a thing that I hope y’all will love. I’ll be putting the second part of the Daiyu saga on etsy.

If you’re a patron tonight you’ll get new Daiyu.

Tomorrow, Yeah, Write.

I might talk about what I’m doing with Yeah, Write this time around.

So yeah, lots o exciting stuff y’all.

Stay tuned.

OH how the writer worries.

First Patreon folks.

I’ve done research and long as you change your passwords and whatnots your info should be safe. That said, as I said over there if anybody doesn’t feel safe and needs to bounce I am totally okay with that.

What else?

I did an amazing reading last night. I read from the Self Care Like A Boss blog and a new piece about how the current lit world makes me feel.

I posted a little clip my partner took from the part where I was reading from SCLAB. The volume is a bit low because my phone is not super fancy but you get the gist. I’ll post more tidbits and soon, SO SOON I’m going to do some readings and post them on my Youtube channel as a bit of a warm up to me doing regular videos over there.

What else?

So post Patreon problem I’m having thoughts.

Mainly that come December my finances are going to take a turn for the worse because of a rent increase. My partner and I will make it, but things will be pretty tight.

This brings me to the expensive ass thing. AWP.

We were talking about it and he really -really- wants me to get to go. Especially since I’ll have more books to hawk and have SO many writers there who are going and who just live in the area that I’ve been friends with and need to meet.

I know AWP doesn’t give a shit about me as a paying member. That notwithstanding, I feel in my gut that it’s important to show up. Because I ain’t skurred and fuck some of those people.

BUT y’all. This is giving me real serious Poor Kid Anxiety. I had nightmares about going and coming home to find out we got evicted last night.

I am budgeting it up, but the idea of spending that much to go to an event that I don’t really specifically need to freaks my shit right out.

The other day I read something my homie Daniel Jose Older wrote and this has been stuck with me for days:

For me, writing always begins with self-forgiveness.

Shit yo. Right in the fucking feelings.

I am not good at forgiving myself anything. Not my natural assholeness, not my tenderness of heart, not my sensitivity, not that sometimes things like trees or whales make me want to cry, not that I can’t produce REAMS of things that I get paid for, not that I find freelancing so fucking hard and limiting-nothing. I have the hardest time forgiving myself for being human and having desires that cost money.

I’ve literally been staring at that paragraph for two minutes because being vulnerable this way still rubs my fur the wrong way. I am not an android and I hate that.

Okay, yeah. So I’ve got some extra income hustles planned out, but they aren’t fast money and might not turn out to be a lot of money.

I’ve got my budget pretty well pared down to writing business essentials (software, computer upkeep, etc.) and a few pleasure things, but I’m terrified it won’t turn out to be enough and the trip could fuck up my family finances for a long time.

I’m worried about it. I don’t foresee being able to take a part time job because I already have 12 hour dayjob days and then at least two or three days a week work on writing for another 2-3 at home.

So I might do a fundraiser. A kickstater or whatever so I can keep my Patreon money for writing related expenses. I’ve decided to work it out.

First thing is I’m going to budget out my writing related expenses from now through March.

Second thing budget up tickets, a spot to sleep and whatnot.

Third calmly work out a savings plan and whether or not to do a fundraiser.

Number three will be a mother fucker but I think I can do it.

That’s about it for now. Time to grind.

Later taters.

All the News that’s Fit to print.

OH hey y’all.

How about a lil update on your favorite indie writer’s writin’ life?

First thing.

I still haven’t named my computer yet and it’s bothering me. I think once I get the protective thingy on it and some stickers on that I’ll figure it out. I’m leaning towards calling it the Recalcitrant Dick but I can’t blame the hardware for Windows 8.1 shortcomings.

That said I’m learning win 8.1 and it’s foibles. I am going to have to pay for my year of Office and that bugs the fuck out of me but, of the free word processing programs I’ve used none have ALL the stuff I like so office it is.

What else?

I’m starting to fall back into the rhythm of how I work the best. If I’m going to be natural about myself, I do my best work between midnight and about 6 AM. I’m trying to relearn how not to be so excited and desperate to write that I stay up that late and wind up dead ass tired at my dayjob.

Patrons are getting a HUGE chunk of the Daiyu Saga for the month. I’m talking like 5K words. If you aren’t on that Patreon train go check it out here.

OH so through my homie Mensah and some other folks I’ve been exploring Catapult and I really am enjoying it. I even posted a lil thing there. Check that out here. I even took the photo.

What else?

I’m mostly huddling up, hiding out and writing like a mother fucker. This process of pulling together notes I’ve been taking, having time to write things I’ve been desperate to write about but now while I’m sitting at the dayjob because I might start wailing because it hurts is just…it’s fucking everything.

I’m trying to pump my brakes in regard to making more money and doing more freelance. I’ve walked down that road and it’s not good for me so I’m trying really hard not to put that pressure on myself. I’m mostly doing okay except for when like today I just want to buy a new dress and not have it out of the house budget.

Slowly and not so surely I’m working up to getting my writing life shit together.

I’m also working on a couple of sooper seekrit projects that I’m very into.

More about that another time.

That’s all for right now.

If you are jonesing for some Self Care Like A Boss talk, head over here and see my latest.

What it is, what it is.

I think I finally slept off the last of my cold. I honestly hate the snotty type sickness so much.

BUT there are things I have to share with you.

My publisher Motherblazing now has an official website!!

Check it out here and check out the news about Milcah’s book ‘Sisterhood’ coming.

Sisterhood: Ate is a teaser of Milcah Halili Orbacedo’s work-in-progress memoir. This excerpt explores the intersections of race, gender, class, and sexuality in the context of their experiences with Lorelei Lee in her writing workshops and as a BDSM scene partner at Milcah writes with the intention of inspiring folks who feel bogged down by marginalization, to encourage them to make the changes and risks they need to make in order to embody the realest versions of themselves, and to seek a healthy and loving community to support them in this crazy mess we call life.

While you’re checking it out, join Milcah’s email list here.

AND if you’d please head to twitter and tell Milcah happy birthday. That would be awesome.

ALSO you can pick up a teaser of their book and I feel like you should read it. Go here and get it.

Here’s what Milcah says about it:

Sisterhood: Ate is a teaser of my work-in-progress memoir. This excerpt explores the intersections of race, gender, class, and sexuality in the context of my experiences with Lorelei Lee in her writing workshops and as a BDSM scene partner at Your purchase of this teaser will go towards my living expenses while I finish Sisterhood and make the transition (from performer to writer, from woman to man, from San Francisco to New York City) to a life I’ve always dreamed of. I write with the intention of inspiring folks who feel bogged down by marginalization, to encourage them to make the changes and risks they need to make in order to embody the realest versions of themselves, and to seek a healthy and loving community to support them in this crazy mess we call life.

Ate (pronounced ah-TEH) is a Tagalog word for “older sister,” an identifier I’m proud to call Lorelei Lee, a writer, porn performer, director, and teacher. Ate is a title meant to honor the sisters who came before us, those who are kin. In people of color and church communities, to be a sister is to be someone’s darling, dear to one’s heart. Being a sister can also mean being queer, being a feminist, being chosen family. In my heart, Lorelei Lee is all of these things. Lorelei paved the way for me to feel free in my gender and sexual expression and unlocked a world in literature for me so full of diversity and self-reflection. Her influence in my life helped wake me to my most authentic self. I hope you enjoy this excerpt, and that you’ll email me with feedback at

And let me say, you should get in touch. Knowing Milcah has been amazing and transformative for me.

We are doing important work. So come on and help us out.

What else?

Well I’m still getting my docs and shit moved to my new computer and getting used to it. I’m going to try and get a little desk like this to use at home.  I’m going to try out making some chit chat youtube videos too.

That’s all for right now. I’ve got a new essay cooking and it needs stirring.

Against Diversity.

Given the further ramping up of racism in the lit world, I have to confess something.

In recent weeks I’ve watched digital yellowface, more White lady authors defending each other from us savage Brown, Black, Queer, Disabled and countless others, I have seen White people do intellectual 10.0 tumbling routines in order to make sure everyone knows that it’s never their fault, they aren’t racists, they are just trying to get what we others have.

I have witnessed male poets sexually harass, objectify and gaslight women.

I haven’t commented on every single thing because I was busy putting out a book.

Here is something I’ve come to understand.

When they say they aren’t against, diversity they just are against censorship and racial nepotism they want us others around but quiet.

Yes, it’s reassuring to know that we Wise Old Negresses exists, but naturally only a precious few of us should be visible or audible at any one time.

If more than one of us speaks at one time, it’s just PCness taking over and tantamount to murderous terrorism and censorship on the level of book burnings and religious extremism.


I see exactly what’s happening.

Solidarity amongst us others is threatening to Whiteness because we have our own voices, and will not only have our own spaces but will be heard in those spaces as well.

I see the patterns in this behavior.

The fear based posturing. The apparently righteous cause of freedom of speech. The White Flight. The victim pose, oh poor picked on White people being held accountable for their words and actions. All of it.

And it is exhausting.

I endure the micro aggressions. I quietly unfollow, unfriend, put literary magazines on my verboten list. I note who I will and won’t EVER work with at my own peril.

And yet, YET I am still right here.

I wrote an amazing book that is vital and important and yes, it is fucking expensive. 

I’ve stood up for my work because god damn it, this is years of my life, deep life changing work for both my publisher and I. And yes, it is that valuable.

I do this work in the face of the wall of White tears, White outrage, Silencing, Othering, and cowpie dodging that is the publishing industry.

I do this work because it is what I am meant to do.

I don’t do it in order to lead White folks and publishers by the hand into the land of milk, honey & diversity.

I do it because I have things to say. Because my voice, the voice that I have struggled to find and learn how to wield like a machete and like a lover’s hand is important.

So yes, YES, by all means keep tumbling and cartwheeling to justify why I should remain silent.

I will not name you all.

But I see you.

I see you.



Things I Dug Out of My Own Saltmine

I have been busy migrating documents from cloud storages, a little folder at work, emails etc. I could not sleep to save my life so I read some of what I’ve been writing in the past year or so.

Before I get to the meaty part, I want to say that it’s long been deeply important to me to know myself and my heart. Whether or not I share that with anyone is a whole other beast. I lived with so much shame, the type of shame that seems to come from your DNA I’ve made it part of my business as a human being to see myself for what and who I am regardless and deal with it good or bad.

One thing I keep seeing is that there are some things that I have come to (laughingly mind you) accept about myself as a creator and artist.

I try really fucking hard to be lighthearted sometimes. Lighthearted does not come naturally to me at all. I’m a goofy but very serious person. It is super difficult for me to do light. It is also super hard for me to be funny on purpose.

It’s not hard in the way that say, writing about racism in lit is hard for me. It is a whole other level of difficulty.

Part of it is that every piece I write whether it comes through or not, is about survival for me. It is how I live through ALL of the other bullshit and at this age, I have an agenda and I want to get that shit done. My writing time is precious and finite and I have shit to say.

There is that layer.

Then there’s the layer of well, okay. To put it in a different context. I do not have good hand eye coordination. My vision is very poor, like I’m pretty helpless without correction and can do nothing but lay around making sloth noises. In spite of that, I LOVE playing video games. I like violent, bloody, scary video games. I’m awful at them. Like, I bought Lord of the Rings Return of the King at Game Stop the night it came out (which I NEVER DO, baby do not pay retail) and took it home and real talk it took me four months to get to 15 minutes of saved game time.

I rage quit that bitch so hard I not only uninstalled it while cursing and naked, I made Uniballer my partner legit get rid of the whole shebang.

Now doing lighthearted work is not that kind of difficult for me. It’s more like it taking me four tries and copious notes to finish Silent Hill 1. I love it, I try really hard I’m just not good at it.

I felt some angst about that for a bit. I mean, everyone loves people who are delightful and funny. Sometimes I am delightful and funny (I AM DELIGHTFUL -imagine me bug eyed and screaming at the void-) however, it’s not really my jamz. I have come to the realization that it’s okay. While I do have the ambition of being a can do everything type writer, I’m just not.

And that’s okay.

It’s not just okay, it’s pretty fucking fantastic.

It is fantastic because that is one less layer of stress and pressure for me to put myself under. I have just freed myself of this weird uh, choke hold. Sometimes I strangle myself with these out of control beliefs that if I think I can do something I should be able to regardless. I did the same thing with art. I love art. I grew up mesmerized and comforted by Bob Ross. That said, I cannot draw. I failed one of those everyone can learn to draw a pony classes and the instuctor felt so guilty because I was so sad he gave me my money back out of pocket. I got very disciplined and made myself practice a skill that only served to stress me out and give me another reason to be shitty to myself.

Now rather than writing stuff that I have worked to death and lost all love or hope for I’m not going to force it.

I ain’t wid it.

What I am for, is honing my voice and what’s important to me to write about. I’m about embracing the serious little fucker I am, and running with it into the wild.

I am a savage.

I will continue to go for the throat.

I won’t make myself feel bad for not being more entertaining.

That’s all for now friends.


PLS come sign up for my self-care newsletter. I am SO excited about doing it because I like writing love letters to folks and these are loveletters. For srs. Come on. It’s free bruh.

Trouble Mind, Aching heart.

Amid the excitement of me getting a new computer, (I DID IT. I almost cried because I was afraid some financial catastrophe would happen, but I did it), releasing Self Care Like a Boss with Milcah, doing two amazing readings with other QTPOC (Queer Trans People of Color), getting PAID for one reading. Meeting and connecting with some WOC locally, having people walk up to me after my reading to tell me thank you for doing what I do and using my big fat mouth, life has been pretty overwhelming and beautiful.

I’ve been sharing inspiration and solidarity with other writers. Tears and angst and nerves.

It has been everything and draining and dreamy.

The dark side of this rainbow is having to come back to the reality of the literary world I live in.

An organization I pay money to belong to continually show it’s ass. From relegating the very real concerns of people of color to “controversy” and rather than engaging us nasty ole brown folks who pay to be a member of that community, we were brushed aside and at least I personally was called a bully, a racist, among other things. That led me to write this piece at Medium about the new coded language of racism in the lit world. That was in May. Just recently a woman decided to satirize the idea of someone in a position of power hunting indigenous people (because genocide IS SO FUCKING FUNNY) in order to “stand up” for AWP against all us bullies. This was in response to calls for AWP to be more transparent and have better disability/access policies.

Because obviously, if people who aren’t White Cis Able bodied people with money, they are just pushing around a huge organization that they pay to be members of.

Asking for transparency and to be listened to and treated like human beings is bullying now.

I come back from the daylight into the darkness of well intentioned White magazine editors publishing blatantly joyously Islamaphobic rants disguised as poetry, and their response is we didn’t mean it that way.

I come back to said same poet, traumatizing a friend with his hateful poetry. White men coming out of the woodwork to cry about censorship and how mean and evil every woman or other person is for objecting to their shitty pants art.

I come back to having to add yet more publishers and magazines to my growing list of places I will never submit to because when they fuck up, the answer is always I didn’t mean it that way, I am committed to diversity, our intentions were good.

I come back to online literary communities where, you can be that guy who is colorblind and it’s fine.

I have so many questions that I know will go unanswered.

I come back to the certain knowledge that the honest, I really need to know the questions I have, don’t get answered because I have the audacity to ask them and thus I become the aggressive enemy and the artists, editors and organizations must be shielded from my prying eyes.

It doesn’t matter how I ask. If I say please, if I say fuck you. They never take full honest responsibility.

Here are some of my questions.

Why exactly is it satirical to imagine someone in a position of power hunting human beings?

What exactly was the line that said, hey, this poem is going to be our statement on ISIS?

At what point, if any, does someone- fuck ANYONE an editor someone say, hey, maybe this subject doesn’t need another White man to be the face and voice of it?

Why don’t people of color submit to us?

I sit with these questions constantly. Sometimes I ask them of the appropriate people and have yet to get an honest thoughtful reply.

The thing I’ve said over and over again is this. You have to be honest. You have to sit in your discomfort and understand that you can shout out of one side of your mouth about how much you love diversity and representation and how welcome all of us others are welcome at your magazine or press, but understand that when the people in positions of power demonstrate both by word and deed how few fucks they give about all us others, we see it.

If you want to be an ally, you can’t just say oops, my bad a la Clueless and think it’s all okay. You have to be uncomfortable and be honest and be responsible for what you’ve done or said.

Contrary to the cries of shitmouth artists everywhere, when we say this is a racist thing that you printed, wrote or otherwise supported it is not the knee jerk reactions of silly brown people who can’t think critically. It is not the cry of unpublishable others, it is not a cry for censorship.

It is a demand for accountability.

It is not that it’s popular for POC or the countless others to stick our necks out and risk our careers just to “accuse” someone of bias or racism.

The situation is that many of us are tired of this shit.

We are tired of being colonized.

We are tired of our stories, our lives, our histories and current struggles being relegated to “controversy”.

We are tired of being silenced unless we are nice.

We are tired of this shit.

I am tired of this shit.

I don’t want to vet my submissions because I don’t want to be associated with publishers or magazines that are actively participating in my oppression.

I don’t want to come down from my literary dream dates and land face first in racism and shit fuckery.

There’s an extra layer to this involving publishing my book, but we’ll get to that another day.

That’s all for right now I have art to make.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 4,450 other followers

%d bloggers like this: