Today’s an odd one. My cat is not doing well, and I’m stressed about a lot of different things both large and small. I am, however, still making progress—the agent who offered feedback on my query liked my rewritten draft, I’ve had a very helpful conversation with my friend Lucy Bellwood about making comics, and I’ve been reading Molly Ostertag’s substack series on making graphic novels. With those last two details, I can confirm that…
Continue readingCategory Archives: Autobiographical
Ho-ho-home time, 12/26/24
untitled, 11/07/24
Your regularly scheduled programming has exited my brain stage right.
The wisdom I’ve found most useful this week comes from my similarly distressed elders: don’t borrow trouble. What I fear may yet come to pass, but it probably won’t look exactly as I imagine it. More importantly, I won’t gain anything from letting my dread wax eloquent—unless I’m imagining ways to create solutions that are within my power to work towards.
That’s all easier said than done. I’ve only managed to follow this advice some of the time.
I’ve been thinking about my current need for distractions, and for narratives that give me hope and feel empowering and encouraging. I’ve also felt a growing urge to make those narratives for myself and for others. But even as I feel the need to do that, and wonder about how I might do it, the task itself feels a bit like climbing out of a well without a rope.
I’ve been scripting a comic recently. Maybe that’s part of the recipe. It certainly feels like it hits some of the necessary notes. I’m meeting with the friend who came up with the comic’s original concepts today. I hope he likes where I’ve taken things.
Perhaps it’s also time to revisit my old Protectors stories. They feel especially timely once again. I just need to have them critiqued and rewrite them a bit more before I can shop them around… or find a way to publish them myself at this point. Maybe it’s time to push harder in that direction.
This election didn’t deliver what I’d hoped for. So far it’s doing a good job of delivering what I feared. Regardless, I hope you’re all ready to weather whatever storm is coming your way, and are enjoying your good times while you have them. Take care, and good luck.
Butterfly in the Sky (2022)

I have started (but not yet finished) Butterfly in the Sky, the documentary about the creation of Reading Rainbow. I stopped when I did because I knew that if I kept watching I’d watch all the way through, and I had work to do. The documentary hooked me and delighted me—much as the show did when I was little.
I grew up on Reading Rainbow (and Star Trek: The Next Generation, which created some confusion for young me). Young me didn’t understand why Geordi La Forge didn’t need his visor when he was telling me about books…
Continue readingHow has Fallout been my chill-out?

It’s been a minute.
I’ve been packing, clearing out, and moving into a smaller space (plus storage). This is, as ever, revealing. It’s also a tremendously time-hungry pain in the ass.
I’ve had less time for consuming media as a result of all this, but I’ve sometimes watched an episode of Fallout as a way of relaxing in the evenings. And I do mean relaxing. But why is this show about awful stuff not awful?
Continue readingAnother slow week, & The Work of Art
Packing, 4/18/24
Internal critics & crediting all the work
I struggle to give credit to all the important work that is part of writing.
I think that work can be roughly sorted into three categories:
Continue readingFamily time, 2023
I’m spending time with family, here near the turning of the year. I hope that this finds you all well. I’ll be back with more in the new year. May you enjoy the returning of the light!
Inspiration, Irritation, & Spite
There’s a quote from Ursula Vernon that’s stuck with me, something I think I found in one of her Author’s Notes. “Inspiration knocks now and again, but spite bangs on the door all year long.”
That doesn’t ring fully true for me—my spite-writing is usually a rant or half-formed polemic in my journal, and I struggle to turn those into fiction—but it sparked a funny question for myself the other day.
Do I write like oysters make pearls?
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