The Thing That Helped Me Go From "no Motivation To Write" To Being On Track To Have Written 200K Words

The thing that helped me go from "no motivation to write" to being on track to have written 200K words of fiction in one year was unlocking

the power of spite

by reminding myself that writing cozy stories of successful queer romance where nobody dies and everyone gets a happy ending will really piss off the fascists.

I have an appointment next Monday about starting HRT.

My name and pronouns aren't changing. My gender identity hasn't changed. I've just gotten worn down by the impossibility of being myself in a world that only wants to see me as "Cara's mom", and which reads me as female even when I'm wearing my pronouns on my fucking face.

I'm annoyed and sad that this version of me that I've worked so hard to learn to like is going to go away. I'm particularly sad about losing my voice. But as mad as I am about the impossibility of getting read as my gender, doing nothing is still a choice, and that choice is taking a severe toll on my mental health.

I'm looking for a new middle name that starts with A, because I wanted to make Agamemnon my middle name, but my husband doesn't want to have to write it on parenting forms and shit (which honestly, fair and reasonable), so it's going to be my SECOND middle name and I need a reasonable and normal Anglo first middle name.

my recipe for drawing hands!

(small note that this is a shortcut that is more abt style and ease than anatomical accuracy. it helps to take time to really properly study hands, makes it easier to bend the rules a bit like this and have it still look good!!)

(learn rules b4 u break them or whatevah)

Snippet from my queer polyamorous romance novel, Community Witch - an unapologetically trope-y, cozy, and relationship-driven romance story about the healing from trauma, found family, and joyful queer relationships. (Looking to publish next year.) ---

“My life has turned into a Lifemark movie,” Aspen groaned, flopping dramatically onto their bed. “Thirty year old enby leaves the big city, including their terrible partner and the job they hate, to move to a beautiful small town, has meet cute with beautiful stranger before running into The One That Got Away.”

There was a choking sound on the other end of the line.

“You’re allowed to laugh,” Aspen grumbled. “Even I think it’s ridiculous, and I’m living it.”

Becks didn’t laugh, but Aspen could hear the grin in her voice. “I assume the beautiful stranger is Rav, but who is The One That Got Away?”

“Remember that guy I was hopelessly in love with in high school? The wholesome football player?”

“Maybe?”

“My best friend? The one that was over all the time?”

“Oh my god, that himbo you tutored, then pined for the rest of high school? The one you wanted to smash from orbit?”

“Not a himbo,” Aspen bristled, unable to argue with the rest of Becks’ description. “Anyway. She’s Nat now. I ran into her at the gym just now when I was dropping off cards around town. And we’re going to catch up when she’s done with work.”

This time, Becks did laugh – gleeful peals that made Aspen smile despite themself.

Update: some co editors are helping create a less stressful work environment

Genuinely, there is no worse part of the writing process for me than revising the first draft. (I always print my first drafts because it helps me see what's there rather than what I think should be there.)

And getting into writing novels has made it SO MUCH WORSE. This fucker is 258 pages, God help me.