A proliferation of publications: The week that wasn’t…so bad??

Guys, I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think my depressive episode is ending and my life is on the upswing! Let’s all collectively knock on wood, please.

Photo by @lukelung1991 from Unsplash.

Photo by @lukelung1991 from Unsplash.

Hollowness: that I understand. I’m starting to believe that there isn’t anything you can do to fix it. That’s what I’ve taken from the therapy sessions: the holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mold yourself through the gaps.
— Paula Hawkins, The Girl on the Train

First of all, let me say thank you to everyone who was there for me while I was going through it. You guys are the real ones. This week, my ear infection finally cleared up (mostly), and I started scheduling my time using Google Calendar, which has been surprisingly useful in segmenting my time and stopping me from being overwhelmed by the seemingly endless tasks I heap onto my plate. Talk about eyes being bigger than your stomach, eh?

So this new and improved scheduling lead me to be increasingly productive this week (including writing this blog post a few days ahead of time), and I even finished and published a short story on my Patreon. Every month, I write a new short story, and this month, I churned out a whopping 16 pages for all of my subscribers. I’ll include a little snippet below, but you can only read the whole thing on my Patreon. If you can’t afford the tiers but are still desperate to read my writing, please feel free to reach out to me, and I’m happy to make an exception. :)

My self-publication was followed by two poems being accepted and published in Sky Island Journal yesterday. I really adore this journal, and they have published more of my poetry than anywhere else. It also makes me think about the place of poetry in my life now that I’m writing more and more speculative fiction. I’m not shoving poetry away from me; I still appreciate the art form and in a way miss the ease and flow of poetry. But I found myself unable to say anything that amazed me - and quite frankly, my talents lie in fiction. I’ve just always been better at it, if I may be so humble.

BUT, I am grateful that Sky Island Journal has homed my two poems, “The Daughter I’ll Never Have, “ and “The Dead Can’t Sign Peace Treaties.” Be sure to check them out here, and, as always, let me know what you think.

As promised, please enjoy a little snippet from my short story, “Chrysalis.” And remember, if you want to read the whole thing, check out my Patreon!

Chrysalis

The Angel Gabriel is snorting blow off a sexy Among Us character’s tits, and I sit spread-legged on the couch watching, while a de-fanged vampire buries his face between my thighs. Gabriel looks over at me, his eyes a shock of blue and pupiled dilation, blonde hair sticking straight up, and he grins to reveal a bloodied smile, little teardrops of dye dripping to his lips, and I lick my own.

Every weekend in October there’s a costume party on campus. Is it actually Halloween? I’ve lost count at this point, and the days lately taste more like weed and stale beer to wash away the hangovers. I sip my vodka and coke and shiver as pops of bright flicker behind my eyes, and the vampire smiles between my legs, thinking he’s the reason. The frat boys in the corner laugh at something righteously funny, dressed in their sports jerseys and ill-fitting suits as a poor excuse for costumes. They’ll be corporate idiots soon, drunk on beer at 4 p.m. and nursing affairs next to their newborn kids, but my friends fawn over them all the same, doomed to be their miserable housewives covered in children’s shit while their husbands “have to work late.” I knot my fingers in vampire boy’s hair, pulling him out and to the side.

“C’mon, Angie,” he groans, and the fake blood streaming down his face is disturbing, considering where his mouth just was. “It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

I adjust my underwear and stand up. “Don’t call me Angie,” I say and chug the rest of my vodka before walking away. I grab the Angel Gabriel by his loose-fitting white shirt, and he follows me outside, the same shock of blue brightening as I walk with him.

Thanks again for reading, and let me know what you think in the comments!

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NaNoWriMo 2021: Let the preparations begin