Anything That It Takes To Keep My Head Screwed On Straight

Title from Silence by Emmy Meli.

It's been slow-going trying to come out of my fog and embrace the new year. That doesn't mean it hasn't had its upsides, because it definitely has. The weather is getting fresher and warmer daily, the sun is showing his face more and more every day, and there's always something to do, which might be overwhelming, but still, at least there's always something to do, right?

For me, it means working on the new edition of Under His Touch. It's been a lot more of a project than I thought it would be, mostly because I was never planning to create a sequel but also because I've been in the mood to write, to draft, and now I have to hold myself down and engage the editing brain. I know I can do it.

I enjoy it. I know that too. I always have fun with editing, when it's developmental edits. But this, alas, is line edits. So it's a slow, tedious brand of work that is almost like writing, but much more agitating. And I'm not good at being agitated.

So I'm doing my best. But I'm also trying to read more: it's actually insane that this is the same brain that read an entire book a day in high school. I try now, but it takes me two to four days to get through books I'd read in one before.

Is it my brain aging? Is it from smoking too much weed? Is it just my natural pace slowing down? Or is it that I'm out of practice? I think it's a little bit of all these things, to be honest, but I'm doing my best. My reading goal for the year is only 80 books, which is 20 less than usual, but even with giving myself that break I've got six books behind somehow. I'm determined to catch up!

But first, I want to write. Like a lot. I don't know how I always put it off until it drives me insane, but then when I do it it's such a relief it makes up for it.

So, first, editing. Then do what I actually want to do.

Rich Bitche$ Don't Die

Can we talk about how iconic Iggy Azalea's new EP is?

It's a bop.

I've also been listening to a lot of Sky Ferreira's cover of Voices Carry;

Truly iconic! She needs to put out a new album pronto. I do appreciate that the photo she used for this track is totally taken from Huji Cam, because, damn, do I relate. That app saved my life. (And aesthetic. Which is arguably more important.)

Honestly I've been putting off writing for days to work on music. I'm working on a novella about gargoyles right now, but God knows when that will be out. I still fully intend to publish the new edition of Souls of Salt and Seawater this month, and update the current edition of Shadows with a clean, firmer round of edits. However I probably won't be able to put out the special edition of Shadows until next month.

It's pesky to wait, I know, but I'm juggling a lot and I don't want it to feel rushed or sloppy. These characters deserve better.

I have so much cool shit I wanna put out, but it's hard to keep up a constant work rhythm.

Or maybe I'm just making excuses for myself >.>

I wanted to put out the second Shadows novel before 2019, but it will probably come out in like mid-2019, I'm not going to lie. Which is disappointing, but again, these books deserve better than me rushing and being sloppy. I rushed out Storm of Masks early because I felt a big pressure to be more prolific and now I'm stuck in the boat of rewriting it entirely. And it will be a better book because of it, but it's embarrassing that the old version saw the light of day. Lesson learned.

In the next couple of months after revitalizing some old titles, my focus will be on hammering out a bunch of novellas and short stories. Like dozens of each. And I'm going to sit on every last one of them for at least a month and a half before putting them out.

So that's what's happening work-wise.

On the other side of things I've been doing my usual; vegging out, obsessing over the internet, drinking too much coffee, worrying about how it will affect my health, ignoring said worries to make even more coffee. You know. The works.

Honestly the other night I almost died, because I stumbled across a video of Michelle Buteau on YouTube and was almost shook enough to perish.

I hate standup comedy. It's just not my brand of humor and it doesn't help that most of my exposure to it had been watching really old white men just say straight up offensive things and then act like they made a joke. Which is stupid. And I'm into dark and/or racy humor, I like when people poke the bear and pull stunts, it's just those other comedians try to do it and it falls flat.

Then they cry about the PC police when really...it's just not that funny. Joke about race/sexuality/gender if you want, but make it entertaining or do something unique with it, you know?

Michelle does that. Her set was so good. When she called herself Raven Raven-Symoné I deadass had to pause the video because I was cackling too hard.

Her Dutch in-laws sound hilarious and her set was endearing and cute enough that the risks she took with more edgelord material didn't come across as hollow or trying too hard. It balanced out well and it just works. Plus she has a great personality and presence so she owns whatever she's doing--including when a joke bombs. Which, really NONE of the jokes should have bombed, but the audience was clearly shocked and didn't know what they were getting into with her, which makes it even funnier, because she gives zero fucks and makes it clear.

Obviously I immediately went and followed her on Instagram. Which, again, is weird for me, because I HATE standup comedy, and that's most of what she does for a living.

I just finished reading a short gay romance novella I downloaded the other day, and now I'm reading an m/m fantasy novel, and it's freaking wild. It's called Slave by Kate Aaron, and it's exactly what it sounds like; a slave in a fantasy world who is the only surviving member of his nomadic clan rescues another slave (a captured soldier from another country) from an auction by buying him to keep him out of the hands of more cruel, sadistic masters who want to rape and/or torture him to death.

So the main character is jealous of this new slave because he wants to continue being their masters favorite, and the new slave wants no part of any of it, except he kind of does because he comes from a homophobic country where men aren't even supposed to touch outside of fighting, and he may or may not be falling for the main character.

It's m/m/m between the two of them and their master and I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it? Like, slavery is BIG BAD. And the author kind of acknowledges that? But in a way that's like "Yeah slavery is bad, but our personal experience as slaves is cool because we kind of got lucky, so let's ignore all the iffy moral asides and focus on the romance, kay?"

I don't love that approach. And I'd like the world itself to be expanded on more.

HOWEVER. It seems like the sequels will get a little more political and ramp up the fantasy elements over the gay sex elements? And also develop their master further, which is good, since he's the only character of the three I don't love or understand so far, so him winning me over in any way would make his literal legal owning of these two other humans a lot more palatable? Because as it is I don't trust him? I mean I don't think he's /evil/ or would hurt them, but he's kind of ignorant of their situation and experiences?

Either way, the prose is quick and concise and the character dynamics are interesting. It's mostly a character study with fantasy window dressing. Which I'm cool with, I guess.

Anyway I'm going to wrap this up because I have way too much to do to keep blogging, but I may post again later today with some special stuff! 

Thanks for reading!

Check out my books here.

Down In Atlantis

If I haven't been blogging as much as I want to lately, it's only because I'm trying to break out of my weird writer's block. I have plenty of projects to work on, but I'm not sure if I'm in the right place, so I have to force myself to sit down and hammer out words every day, and most days I'm only hitting 500 or so before I call it quits. For comparison, I usually hit 4k a day at least while I'm in the middle of a project.

But that's not what's really depressing me. The fact that nothing ever changes has been what's depressing me. The fact that I live in the middle of nowhere with little human contact is what's been depressing me.

At least now it's summer. I deactivated my Facebook the other night, and I think I'm going to spend a lot of the next two months taking daily walks down to the river or other nice little areas around my house.

Back in summer 2015 me and Kuma were out running the roads a lot, and it felt like where I was supposed to be and everything was okay and the future looked good, so I'm trying to get back to that, because lately most days when I picture my future there's nothing but suicide or a big black blur. We walked to a nearby lake one day back then, and it took three hours but it was so worth it.

And now I can't believe it's been two whole years, that it's 2017, and I'm in the same place. We were planning so many big things back then that never happened, and I'm worried to let myself start living or planning things again when I know that those hopes might just crumble too.

I'm trying to keep my head down and work my way through whatever this funk is, and at least come out on the other side of it with a heightened wordcount. But it's been hard.

Which is why this blog has been drying up.

That, and I spend most of my days inside, sitting at the same spot, and don't have much to talk about. Like I said, though - winter is gone, and with the nice weather here maybe I won't be such a hermit.

Another big problem that keeps me from, you know, being me, is that every day I convince myself I'm dying of a terrible disease. I wake up like, "Oh my god, I think I have bone cancer!" And everybody else is like, "Kai, shut the fuck up."

And they are probably right.

But logic does not apply to the mass of writhing black gunk, toxins, and mental illness that is my brain. Meaning I spend my day imagining symptoms and worrying for nothing.

Or maybe I'm right, and one day soon I'll keel over of some undiagnosed monster tumor or something and you'll all be like, "We should have listened!" Either way, we're all cool. I am at peace with the void. Or if not peace, then like, a level of familiarity where the void and I could go shopping together without a third friend to be the buffer and it wouldn't be awkward, you know?

#TightWithTheVoid

Outside of all the gross personal stuff, I've been drinking as much coffee as I was before I said I wanted to try quitting caffeine. I'm still sleeping weird hours. I'm still outlining more projects than I can possibly write.

My brother really wants me to go see his new house, to the extent that he's holding my birthday gift hostage there, but I honestly never get a chance to go. I probably won't go until he gets a dog, and then I'll never go back again because I'm not welcome, because I tried to steal his dog, even though I have three of my own.

Although we may have to put our dog, Kota, down--she's really old, and her back legs are going and have been getting worse and worse for months.

Honestly, once I move out on my own I don't think I'll own pets. If I do, it will be like, a goldfish or two. That's it. Animals get too close to you and then they die. And they shed all over your house and keep you sneezing daily.

I'd love a little puggle, but I don't think I'd be a good pet owner on my own. Especially in the city...I wouldn't want to walk a dog at like 3 in the morning in the winter months. Plus I have strings of days where I don't shower, or brush my teeth, and I can't get out of bed, and I walk around in three-day-old pajamas with tangled hair and hiss at anybody who tries to talk to me. I don't know if the responsibility would be great for me, and I'm not one of those people who thinks the mere presence of a furry body is going to magically induce a cure for my mental illness or personal problems.

I think most animals are a lot of work, and I'm still trying to work out how to exist as a human, let alone a responsible adult. So. No pets. If I can show the self-restraint not to impulse buy a rabbit or some shit...

Aside from the threat of me someday coming home with a tortoise or a hamster I don't know how to properly care for, the most pressing issue for me has been my lack of finished work. We're just under halfway through the year and I still haven't finished a single book. I've barely done any work on the new edition of Iceblood, I just realized that Deadheart is going to be a four book saga instead of a duology (if I want to do the story justice, at least) and I'm feeling overwhelmed.

I also haven't been reading much at all, because nothing can catch my attention. Last night I finally gave up and started rereading Switched by Amanda Hocking, which is an old comfort read. (I think I've read the Trylle Trilogy six times since the first time I finished them in eighth grade, honestly.)

There really is never enough time. Especially not when I spend it blogging instead of peeing, making more coffee, or writing a chapter, all of which I have to do right now. So that's that.

Later :)

Your Existential Dread Is Showing

I feel like I spend too much time poking at my own wounds, making them worse, instead of doing things I know I need to in order to improve. I waste hours, days, months, beating myself up for shit as opposed to actually working to do better. I don't really have a point with this, I'm not going anywhere special with it, it's just that it's hard to work as a writer when you aren't earning much income at all and people aren't really finding or reading your work and you're drowning in an ocean of mental illness.

I'm sure I'm not the only one out there with problems, so I hate complaining and I usually just bottle all my shit up until it overflows and ruins my life, usually in the form of doing something really self-destructive or starting a fight with someone I care about.

Actually, a lot of my personal relationships and friendships have deteriorated over the past two years. That's probably my fault for continuously isolating myself and distancing myself from people. The thing is, it feels like I should constantly be working, so there isn't time for a social life, and at the same time I feel convinced these people are better off not knowing me so I withhold my presence and emotional involvement with them and end up burning bridges. It's probably definitely not healthy, but it is what it is.

Basically what it means is that I have very few friends left and I'm unhealthily obsessed with my work, namely the fact that I can't stop not doing it and procrastinating or going on like twenty hour work sessions where I lose track of time and nearly kill myself.

Earlier this year I got into a car crash, and the day after I was attacked by a dog. My anxiety has been getting worse and worse, and it only increased when I started to fear physical danger and have intrusive thoughts more and more often after these experiences. I stopped leaving the house much, or at all, going for weeks and weeks at a time without going farther than my own back yard. I've spent days on end in bed, staring at a wall or drifting in and out of sleep. I'm basically a depressed collection of aches and pains, depressive tendencies, and pop culture trivia, blaming myself for every problem in the world while tweeting obsessively about American Horror Story. And I beat myself up for that too.

It's crazy to me, because so many people in this community are open to talking about their mental illness and how it affects their work, and I really only talk about mine when I'm mocking myself and turning the situation into a joke.

If I do let out a cry for help or let on how bad things are, I either delete it hours later or it just goes ignored, and instead of trying to fix the issues I stew in them, alone. I feel like it's not healthy that I haven't acknowledged how much I'm struggling, but the fact is there's a lot of pressure on me from every person and direction in my life, and I've already let so many people down that the thought of disappointing them even more by focusing on how much I'm struggling instead of trying to advance my career actually makes me wanna bury my head in the sand. Yeah.

A large part of it is that I have no routine and no healthy habits. I exist primarily on a diet of frozen foods, pot, and black coffee (fairly sure I have stomach ulcers or something but am I cutting down on coffee? Nahhhhh) and I have a totally irregular sleep cycle. It's normal for me to spend five hours online, pass out and sleep for like twelve hours, then wake up and spend the entire day on the internet again.

To put things in perspective, I've got six series on the go right now as well as countless standalone titles and things I haven't announced yet, I'm dealing with anxiety, depression, paranoia and self-destructive tendencies largely alone with no support system, I'm poor as hell and my career isn't where I feel it should be, and I compensate for the insane amount of responsibility I'm carrying on my shoulders...how? By bottling up all my emotions, blocking people out, and refusing to deal with anything or acknowledge the hand I've been dealt in life. Of course.

Has anyone found out why this generation is so unhealthy yet? I'd really like to know what's in the water that we're all anxious depressive fuckheads like this, but as of yet I have like zero solid leads. Is it internet porn? Copious drug use? Doomsday fears? Radioactive tap water? Cell signals rotting our brains?

I. Don't. Know.

What I do know is that I need to work on blaming myself less. There's this line from episode 3 or 4 of the Shannara Chronicles that I've been thinking about for days now, where someone tells one of the main characters something alone the lines of, "All of this isn't happening because of you. It's happening to you. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be."

So every day I've been trying to remind myself that all of this-all the pain and trauma and bullshit-is happening to me, and it isn't my fault.

I didn't ask to be born. I don't know why I was or why any of us are here. I don't know what comes when we die or if there even is anything after we die. And that's not a personal failing. It's an abjectly horrifying fact that we all, in some way, have to deal with. And I have not been dealing. I've been sweeping my problems under the rug and hoping they go away. It isn't working.

I don't know how many times I can do the same thing and expect different results. So this is me doing something entirely new and actually talking about the fact that I've got problems and issues and that most days I end up crying before six in the evening, and hoping that looking my demons in their glowing red and yellow eyes makes it a little easier to carry them on my shoulders all day.

I'm gonna drink some water and try to do physical activities and interact with other human beings for once. I'm gonna not keep convincing myself that I'm literally the devil and some unseen force who governs all our fates is condemning my soul or whatever, like some cosmic elf on the shelf shaking its head and smacking its gum at me from beyond the veil. I'm going to stop purposely looking for marks against myself to write on my karmic scoreboard and just let myself float.

At the end of the day we're all sad, confused, bitter little children running around on this rock crying out for whoever left us here. I'd like to think that I'm hardly responsible or even capable of being responsible for every bad thing that happens in the world, so I better start acting like it.

Balance

Storm of Masks is out, and you should probably buy it and read it and let it get you super excited for the fall. I mean, if you want.

That's actually not what I wanna talk about, right now, though. I put the book out the other day and it's been nice not being near the end of a project for a while, so I can just float. I'm so glad it's done and out there and it's just out of my hands - I wrote the best book I can, and it has to sink or swim on its own.

I've spent the last couple days just hanging out with friends, listening to music, catching up on BoJack Horseman and rewatching Jessica Jones. Fun, easy stuff.

I'm still working, but since SoM is published, I'm taking a couple days to play around with various projects and outlines and see what direction I wanna go in next. I think I may dive into the second books in the Evernight Falling Saga and the Seraph Chronicles. If I could finish ToS and Atrocity and put them both out around the same time, I'd be sososo happy.

One thing I've been focusing on a lot though is life outside writing. I've been publishing since the tail end of 2014, and it's been my absolute life focus since early 2015 - work, work, and more work. I'm not burning out, really, just more like taking a step back. I'm not where I hoped I'd be at this point with my career and lifestyle, and I'm trying to assess what needs to change. I know I'm dedicated to my books and can't stop writing, no matter what I do. I've essentially stopped trying to be a marketing machine and am just working on putting out a large, diverse body of work, so there's something for everyone.

But it isn't enough for me anymore to only focus on work and live my life. In the next year I'd like to get out a lot more and also bring up my income a bit, so I'm not a constant ball of worry and stress.

It just doesn't seem worth it to me to literally kill myself for my job and not see results, so right now I'm drifting and trying to figure out what new approach I'm going to take, while trying to balance work and actual recreation more.

I tend to write all day when I write, so it's around eight hour bursts of writing. I typically write 6 to 7 thousand words a day, as well as work on outlines for other wips. It takes a lot out of you to put in that much work and see very little reward, but this is both a numbers game and a test of patience. I know hard work pays off, but it's still, you know, hard.

So I'm compensating with a short vacation. Netflix and long walks and hanging out with the people in my life, being a human being before an author for once.

As much as I love what I do I think I've become a bit of a workaholic and let it turn into my sole focus, but I'm alive and I want to experience this world before I lose it, because we all will someday. I don't like that I often push away valuable, enriching experiences in search of more work time, so right now that's where I'm at, is trying to find a happy middle ground.

How To Train Your Laptop. Oh, and other stuff.

I really, really need new candles, but the only kind I want are Bath and Body Works 3-wicks and I worked at the local one, so. I don't wanna go back to shop, because, awkward. Also I'm technically supposed to be saving for a new laptop.

Working at a desk is my normal method, but I hate desktop computers. Like, with a passion.

This one is secondhand, really slow, and Scrivener keeps crashing on me. It takes like 2 or 3 tries to restart it, too, which is not optimal. Another thing is, I do all my own cover design, and I have a lot of variations of large files for those, so it cramps up space, but I need them all.

I really want to get into music production, even if I'm just learning basics, and I need a new computer to do that work on. I know this one can't handle it. I think if I tried, I'd fry it.

I want another touchscreen laptop, because I fucking adored that thing, but I need to save a lot if I want one. Plus I'm also trying to find a new living situation within the next few months, so it's going to be tight...

I like to think I'm fairly tech savvy. I mean, I was basically raised by a computer and I learned to use them by breaking a long string of them, learning to fix a few of them on my own. I think I spent more time reading troubleshoot tutorials and computer forums in middle school than I did my actual assignments. I missed like 50 days of school each in the 7th and 8th grades, and most of that time, when I wasn't reading gay Harry Potter fanfiction in a blanket nest on the floor, I was fucking around with my computer and testing it's capabilities and exploring new programs. In a blanket nest on the floor.

And yet, I go through devices like a falling skydiver hitting tree branches on his sorry way down. I'm telling you, I have lost count of how many desktops, laptops, and notebooks I've gone through in the past decade. It's SCARY.

At the same time, it keeps me on my toes having to readjust to new shit all the time.

I've been getting back into traditional art lately. I got my start in art doodling anime and shit in the sides of my notebooks in grade school, because I'm a Mary Sue like that, and I was really into the DeviantArt scene in, like, 2011, and I got fairly decent for my age, but then a bunch of my tablets broke and I stopped doing digital art for like three years. I reverted to scribbling on loose leaf and stopped producing finished pieces, and now that I'm trying to get into it again...

I hate my tablet.

The new one is this little square thing with like, barely any surface space and the pen settings are absurd. There's this shitty double-click feature that makes it impossible to draw in web-based art programs, and Paint Tool Sai is really annoying.

I've been using it to do photo-manipulation and make book covers, which is not what it's for, but I've set it up for that and it's what I know how to do best with it now, so it's not like, tailored toward digital painting for me anymore. And I don't want to fuck up my current settings because I love them so I'm not changing them, but I also can't find another program I like. I despise Photoshop, I just do - it feels very rigid and I don't like the interface whatsoever, but other shit mostly sucks too. I liked Open Canvas for a while but it was only good for like, messy kind of junk art, which was cute enough but not what I was going for...

So what I'm saying is, if you have any good art programs, send them my way and I'll check them out.

Anyway, what it boils down to is that when I get a new computer I'm gonna go nuts downloading music software and synth programs and shit and make a noisy little Soundcloud-bound mess of an ep. I think it will be mostly instrumental, because I don't love my singing voice. I am not the worst singer in the world or anything, but still. I wanna make the musical version of fortune cookies, if that makes sense. Like it's small and simple but you crack it open and there's strange wonder inside. I also like circus sounds. But less Melanie Martinez (although I love her) and more Amanda Jenssen... But at the same time, more robotic? That's not the right word, just more techno trash. Glitchy, that's the word.

~glitchy~

Aside from that I just really wanna get Divinity out. It turned into this strange poetic abstract thing, and it's darker and kind of more mature than I'd intended. I set out to write a fun Kiera Cass-type book, that you could read in one sitting and be like "That was cute, that was fun," and just be light, fun escapism.

Instead I think I wrote one of those, "What the fuck did I just read?" fantasy stories. I still think it will be fast and fun to read, since it's just a bit shorter than Blood of Midnight, so far, but it's not what I expected it to be.

I think my biggest complaint with so much urban fantasy and paranormal romance these days is that we get this fascinating mythology and world, and it never goes anywhere. Like, it's 300 pages of high school and family life and two straight white teens falling in ~true love~ with a couple scenes with magic or the paranormal sprinkled throughout, and it makes me go, "Is that all?"

Even rereading Blood of Midnight, I see that in it, and I'm like, why did I hold back on this world? And so now in the sequel I get to go back and show it through a more mature, worldly version of Dru's perspective, because it's two years later. So I'm peeling back and showing more of that world and making it less contemporary, less focused on the relationships and more on the world changing around them.

I don't want contemporary with fantasy trappings - I want actual urban fantasy. Whenever I try to write like a simple, straightforward book like that, those magic scenes expand and twist and end up taking the whole of the story.

And I like that, so I've embraced it, and I try to cram as much magic and power and action and strange beauty as I can into the books.

In Shadows of Ourselves, the draft was like 73,000 words, and the finished book that's out now is like, 126,000 something, because in editing so much of what I did was bring the world forth and make it clearer and sharper. I added in new scenes and new locations and went through the ones already there to make them stand out more and add a bit more magik in there. I think when you have that big intense world full of like, hot immortal beings and ancient devices and a big cast of paranormal stuff, you should use that, you know? That's what your reader wants!

I love Leigh Bardugo and Marie Lu and Laini Taylor and Lev Grossman because of that, you know - they recognize that their readers and enticed by these magical worlds, so they let them become characters, they explore them in-depth and turn over every part of them. They don't say "Oh, well we'll have two or three mediocre scenes about the magic so that doesn't take away from the stale development of this romance!"

I love romance. It's where I got my start reading more mature, darker books. But if you hold back on actual plot and world development to force a predictable romantic plot on us, it's going to backfire. It's going to hurt the book and the romantic subplots.

I think very few writers can keep the focus on the romance and have their work not suffer for it. You have to be really good at romance to do that, and that's people like Rainbow Rowell who make masterpieces with the simplest building blocks. (Carry On might be my favorite novel in the world. That still has a lot of magic though, so it might not count. Fangirl is also fantastic.)

Like, when you're reading a Lev Grossman book, you know that's going to be like 300+ pages just crammed to bursting with magic and spell craft and history and the settings come to life. It's amazing.

So of course as I've been writing Divinity, the world has kind of grown up like a hedge form this really basic premise into this strange, creepy, kind of fantastical world, 'cause those are where my heart is, and it gets bigger and weirder the more it goes on. It starts as this kind of predictable, conventional kidnap-romance, like, "Oh no, I'm stuck in this hot billionaires lavish penthouse, but not all is as it seems!" and I try to just really quickly throw a wrench in the way it seems things are going and twist them in a different direction. I'm kind of surprised how my outline has changed since it's first draft, too. Some stuff has surprised me.

Here's a really quick teaser, complete with redacted spoiler and all:

(I think you can click to enlarge it, if it's hard to read!)

And now I'm going to get back to it, and hopefully finish this book tonight or tomorrow!

Some Things I Need To Say For Reasons

• In my post about Divinity, my m/m romance novella coming out soon, I said it would be out on the eight. I lied. It will probably not be out until closer to the end of the month, but I do intend it to be out this month. These things happen with publishing sometimes.
•  
• I still have no release date for Untold but it will likely be sometime next month or the one after.
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• I am still not accepting unpaid writing work, so please don't send me offers to write for 'experience' or 'the pleasure of it' because there is more pleasure in writing my own books that I know I am actually getting paid for, along with said experience.
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• The 99c promo for Shadows of Ourselves is over and you should check and see if it's still up on your Amazon storefront while you can, before the price change takes effect, if it hasn't already.
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• As always, I'm very grateful to everyone reading and giving feedback on my work! If you've bought one of my books, thanks a million!

Awkward In The Woods

The other day I went on a walk and learned that I'm even awkward in the woods. There's a river I like to go to near the house, and it's maybe a twenty five minute walk. Right next to it, though, there's this nice house where these two tiny, angry dogs are always in the yard, barking, and when they bark at me their owners come out and like, snap at them, and it makes me so awkward. Like, let your dog bark itself out without reminding me of your existence. Human interaction messes me up.

I think mainly I just wasn't prepared to see so many people out, since it's the middle of nowhere and I was in the mood to be alone (hence the walk to the secluded river and all) but overall it was still nice, even if walking by people doing yard work is cringe-worthy to me for some reason. And I worked through some plotting issues while I was walking, so that's a plus.

When I got to the river I was walking across the rock wall that stretches across it, like a damn or something, and someone had caught and decapitated a fish and left it's head there, and a swarm of flies was buzzing over it. It wasn't exactly pleasant. But it will probably make it into my next book, nonetheless.

It's weird to think it's almost summer again. Like, it's been an entire year since last summer. I am twenty. So much has happened - I've put out my first couple full-length novels, I've started on anti-depressants again and quit drinking. I've lost a lot of weight. At the same time though, things are mostly the same.

This winter was really hard in a lot of ways - there were a lot of times where I honestly didn't expect to make it through.

But now that the warm season is here and things are slowly but steadily getting better, I feel like I'm reclaiming pieces of my identity every day, and coming back to myself. It's nice. And I keep reminding myself that I'm not in that place I was, but it hasn't fully sunk in yet that I got through it.

The thing is, every time you fall into that black well of depression, there's a part of you that doubts you'll make it out.

I'm learning to tell that part to shut up.

And, in other news, writing a bunch. I want to do a blog every day in X one of these months, I just haven't picked the one yet. I meant to blog a lot more once Shadows of Ourselves came out, to promote it, but I haven't had the time as I jumped right into drafting the sequel to Blood of Midnight. The thing is, Shadows has been doing pretty well on its own (thank you to everyone who's bought the book!) and it's even gotten some good ratings on Goodreads, which is nice.

I actually just got a new writing desk the other day that I kind of love. It's made the idea of sitting down to work a lot more appealing actually.

So when I haven't been being awkward in the woods, I've been listening to Astrid S and writing this vampire book. You can check it out on Pinterest here if you like pretty pictures, and I do: https://www.pinterest.com/writerlyprince/tears-of-sunrise/

Instrumental Obligations and Lacking Magic

This past Christmas, I received a guitar. To be clear, I mentioned wanting a guitar once, about seven or eight months before the holiday, as a throwaway thing that I never - never - expected to get. But I did. And I have to learn it.

Why? Because it was expensive and my parents were happy they were able to get me something I asked for, and I feel guilty ever day that passes without me learning it.

Back in tenth grade I started to learn as part of a music course I hadn't even passed the pre-req course to get into, and was only in because they had no other place for me that block, but in the end I lost what little I picked up and spent most of the time in the course fooling around. I was never a good student, but it was still one of my favourite classes. I used to have dreams of being able to plop down on the sidewalk uptown and play and be able to earn some quick cash, or being able to romance some musician guy through my sheer instrumental bad-assery.

Now I will settle for learning the chords to a couple of pop songs to placate my parents and make myself feel like this gift was not a total loss on me.

This isn't even the first time I've failed to learn an instrument - the one I'm honestly in love with, and always has been, is the piano - but I failed to learn to play keyboard in ninth grade, as well.

Okay, I didn't entirely fail - I learned a bit of Seven Devils, by Florence and the Machine, but it quickly fell apart and now I have no idea what I'm looking at when I sit down at a keyboard.

The thing is, I'm not sure I have the passion in me to develop another love like that. My love for things I used to enjoy - reading books, walking, partying, socializing, art (both digital and traditional) has all been slowly but steadily fading away over the past year, and it's been a struggle to get back into it.

I had a really bright (challenging, but bright) spot for a while, back when I was working and earning money and I felt productive, but my seasonal was coming to an end and they decided not to keep me on after it did, and after I stopped working I went into a downward spiral.

I'm hoping once I'm in school every day it will get better, and being out and getting things done everyday will be beneficial, but at the same time, I'm skeptical. I'm always skeptical when someone says something might offer some form of happiness of fulfillment these days. Because I know how it feels, have been through it time and time again, to start to feel yourself resemble a fully formed human being again only to have that happiness and stability and sense of identity start to slip away from you again.

But, at the same time, if I don't try, there's just the guilt. So I've been doing it, very, very slowly, with other things. I went for a walk a few evenings ago, even though it was snowing, because I knew I needed to get out or I would lose my mind. I've been working my way through a few books, trying to gain momentum in my reading life again. I recently finished The King's Games and Language Lessons, by Amanda Hocking and Jay Bell, respectively, and I actually fell in love with the Magicians, by Lev Grossman, although it may have made my depressive state a bit worse, if I'm being honest. It's a bleak book.

Soon I need to get back into language practice and try picking up this guitar for the first time.

I don't know, I suppose it feels like my life has stalled and nothing is happening, every day is the same, and I'm very isolated. A lot of old friendships simply dwindled into nothing once I left school, and it just feels like the magic has drained out of everything.

But at the same time, I know that it is up to me to seek out happiness. Nothing might change if I go for it, but if I don't there's not even that tiny chance.

So I'm trying to perk up. And in the meantime I'm trying to pick up on my workload and get more things out there. I've been looking at different marketing tactics and options to get my books out there, and, I don't know, it all seems really difficult and . . . well, ineffective.

Like, I had a LibraryThing Giveaway where I sent out twenty copies of Frenzy in exchange for reviews, and got zero reviews. I made the book free on Kindle for several days, and scours of people downloaded it, but it only got one new rating. It was a five-star rating, which was very nice, but it was still one rating, and no reviews. With Souls of Salt & Seawater, I figured things would be different - why? The book was born of reader demand. I had 200 followers on Tumblr, when I wrote a single one-off scene in response to a prompt on my dash, and almost overnight my blog grew to over 900 followers and I had dozens of people demanding I write a full story, or put a book out. And I love mermaids, so I did. And I sent out free copies, and ran a free promotion on Kindle, and again, easily over a hundred downloads, and zero ratings, zero reviews.

To be absolutely honest, I don't even need my books to sell well. I would be perfectly happy finding another source of income. But I do want my books to be read. I could care less about the money, as long as they foster discussion. As long as there's feedback.

All writers crave feedback. But there isn't any, and it's hard to gain any, because not only am I an indie author, I'm an unknown indie author. Not many people have taken a chance on my work, since they have no idea who I am, and nobody is going to take a chance on it until someone else does, so me and my work are both trapped in this eternal waiting phase.

To be honest, I'm trapped in waiting phases in most aspects/areas of my life, so I'm used to it, and I don't really expect anything else at this point, but it would be nice if things could start happening. 'Cause at this point, even if they were bad things, they would still be better than this insufferable monotony that's taken over my existence.

So, that's where I've been at, lately, and that's partially why I haven't been posting here - because there's really nothing to post about. And not a lot of people read this blog.

As soon as that changes, I will probably be posting a lot more than I do now, which is already quite a bit, considering that most of my posts get few to no views. 

Back On the Reality Train

I have no clue what happened in the last few days, but I really let some things slip. Work-wise, things have been fine. I'm making steady progress on . . . things (not all of which I can talk about yet) and feeling really inspired.

But damn, my diet has been in flux. I was on a vegetarian diet for about nine or ten days, but I caved and ate some meatloaf one day and never really got back on that diet. I'll be starting that again tomorrow, and I'm not really worried about maintaining it, just angry I let it slip in the first place.

I've been trying to focus on my health - both mental and physical - this year, and while I feel like it's been a success so far, I also feel like I could be doing more.

I guess the point is I always feel like I could be doing more, even when I'm already doing a lot. But recently I started doing a lot less, since I was stressing out about, well, everyone. Kuma came out for a few days to hang out and I let myself slack off then, too. The important thing is that I'm back on track now and I'm juggling school and work well enough that I should be ready for the upcoming semester and book stuff that I have planned.

I have some things I haven't announced yet that I'm looking forward to talking about and sharing, but I can't do that for a few days - maybe even a week - and it's excruciating. :)

So now, instead of blogging about it, I'm going to go and get back to work!

Drinking My Hot Chocolate & Minding My Own Damn Business

🌙🌙🌙

Shadowhunters doesn't premier until the twelfth, and that is killing me. I keep seeing these fantastic edits and screen shots and promo pics on Tumblr, and I have no idea how other fans are getting these/where they're finding them, but they're just making me more anxious to watch. And then when I do get to watch, I'll only get the one episode, and then I'll be waiting another week.

This show might kill me. Hell, waiting the last few days for it might kill me. Rereading the books would certainly kill me, so I won't even go near those. (God knows if I crack open City of Bones one more time, that paperback is gonna snap in half or something.)

So I'll keep drinking my hot chocolate and minding my own damn business. Kuma is going home later today, so until then we're sitting around on the internet. Once she leaves, I'll probably stay up and get work done. I haven't done much while she's been here, aside from finishing up the new edition of Midnight City. I also have school work to do - like, 13 assignments - in the next eight or nine days. I have a schedule worked out so it will only take me four days, as long as I don't fuck around and waste my time, so I'l going to start those tonight too.

It's nice to be getting back to work, even though it has been a fun few days. Last night I had an old friend who I haven't talked to since September come out for an hour or so and we all just sat around laughing our asses off and having a good time. Kuma's been here for about five days, and both she and Winter were here for three or four days before that.

Things have been hectic. But at least my seasonal at Bath and Body Works is over - not that I didn't like it, because it was cool for the most part. But it was a lot of anxiety-inducing situations and long days that were hard to cope with, though I knew that before I even went in for my interview.

The point is, there's less on my plate not. Which is good.

I always tend to bite off more than I can chew or give myself a really challenging work load, but I can't help myself. If something is too easy, it's excruciating. If it's too much of a challenge, it's still going to be hard, but at least it's more entertaining.

It's also really, really fucking satisfying to check something off of your list. Like yesterday, pressing publish on the new edition of Things We Saw at Midnight was such a relief - I've been wanting to sit down and tackle that for a month and a half now, and it's finally done.

Now it's just onto the next one.

What the fuck do I do?

I'm sitting here listening to K-pop and playing Candy Crush and trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with my day. Because I have to do something, and I haven't done much of anything yet.

I want to write, but I also have homework to do, and I can't decide which project to work on. I don't want to write anything for Souls of Salt & Seawater because I already worked a bit on that today, but with other projects, I don't want to get tied into anything. I guess I'll do some free writing later. Or clean up my bedroom, move furniture around. Or draw something.

Or just jump off a roof and fly into the sunset, never to be seen again. You know, regular day off stuff.

But really, I have too much energy and nothing to do with it. This is what I get for coffee overload, but I regret nothing.

Filler. It's All Filler.

This post is total filler, because I want to blog more, and I never have time to talk about the stuff I love anymore, so I'm doing that here. I keep telling myself to update this site more, because it's good marketing, and it's a nice connection to my readers, and it's nice to read posts from the past and remember things.

But I'm also a lazy, lazy nerd with not a lot of time on my hands. And in that limited time, I would rather do nerdy stuff than talk about doing nerdy stuff. But here's to talking:

I'm reading Six of Crows, and it's amazing, and I am blown away by Leigh Bardugo's worldbuilding. I'm binge-watching a bunch of stuff on Netflix; Devil is a Part-Timer, How To Get Away With Murder -- and I just finished Jessica Jones, which was amazing, spoilers or not. I can't wait for Luke Cage. (Is his show going to be self-titled too? I don't know. Who cares? More Luke!) And I'm also trying to fill out my sketchbook before the year ends. I really, really need to get some damn sketch work done. Pronto.

Aside from all this? Playing a bit of Tomb Raider here and there. Maintaining my caffeine addiction. Trying to deal with my crippling mental illness. The usual.

But no, really. I think I may need to go back on Prozac, which I really don't want to do, because side effects, and expensive medication, and gah. But my health is more important, and I'm better on my meds than off them, increased risk of type 2 diabetes or no. Because if something doesn't change I will implode, and it can't be my life that changes. I need this job, I need this school work, and I need to be writing - it's not the things I have to do, it's me, being too weak to handle the stress. And I know I have an illness and it's not my fault it undermines my quality of life, 'cause that's what illness does. It still sucks.

But I would rather be tired than tired, paranoid, anxious, and depressed. So. Them's the breaks.

What I would mainly like is a good night of sleep, clear skin, and a driver's license. Until then, however, I am stuck taking public transport to work. Which means I have to go get ready for my shift right now because the walk to the bus stop is forty-five minutes! Lucky me, right?

Have a good one, guys!

And That's All I Can Really Say...

Yesterday I worked from 6 to 10:30. Today I'm working from 2 to 10:30. I keep working long shifts that end late at night, and I have a really long commute, and I actually didn't sleep last night when I got home because my anxiety was going off of the walls, so I stayed up and now I'm going back to work without any rest, but I really don't care because I can't afford to care because I'm 600 dollars in debut and I still have Christmas gifts to buy on top of coffee and bus money. It's a hard-knock life.

The thing is, this hard-knock life is very time consuming. And when I do have free time it's usually spent doing laundry/dishes/homework. I may have underestimated just how heavy my workload was when I mentioned some previous release dates. I wanted to put out the first instalment of ADSD next month, and I've barely started drafting it. I wanted to put out SOSAS on the 15th, but I am nowhere near done editing it. And it's not that the book is bad at this stage. I could have something to publish by the 15th, and it would be a good book, but it would not be the right book.

Right now I'm focused on trying not to drop dead, trying not to flunk out, and trying to save up enough money that I can, you know, stop fucking worrying about money. I've got a small ghostwriting gig on the side that helps a bit, but it's mostly chump change, so I can not afford to quit this job right now.

I want to put out the best books I can. I rushed both the Lilac shorts and Things We Saw At Midnight, not during the drafting process, but during editing - and those books suffered for it. I've cleaned up the Lilac Jones shorts, and I'll be revising and republishing TWSAM soon, but right now I'm focused on Souls of Salt and Seawater. On not rushing it. On letting it grow and nurturing the vision of Josmea that I have in my head. This is the first introduction to a world that I plan to spend years and years of my career writing different books in, and I want it to be a good first impression.

More importantly, I know that Alice, Joram, and Rayna deserve to have their stories told in the best way possible. And I know you guys deserve a finished product that is of the same quality you'd find from a traditional publisher. That doesn't happen when I rush.

But I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I don't have more to show you guys, more words for you to read. I want to put things out, and I'm constantly torn between trying to be prolific and trying to be sane, and well-written.

I would rather be the last two.

So I'm not rushing myself anymore. I'm not rushing my works.

What does that mean? Well, it means that SOSAS won't be out on the 15th, this month. It might not be out until the 15th of next month. Or the month after that. I can say it will definitely be out in the next few months. When I say I don't know when it will come out, what I really mean is, I have a good idea of how long it will take me to finish this, but I've guessed wrong before and been mad about it so now I'm keeping my mouth shut.

As soon as it's done, arcs will go out to people on my arc list (I have not forgotten about anyone on Tumblr!) and I'll be talking about it and posting about it and advertising the release date to high heavens. But I've decided that I'm going to take a page out of Amanda Hocking's book and just not talk about my works until they're finished and I'm ready to hit publish. So as soon as my currently announced titles are released, I won't be talking about anything I'm writing until I'm ready to share it with you guys, no matter how much I really, really, really, really want to.

So, I'm sorry, if you were waiting for the Dec. 15th release. The book is still coming. But I want it to be the best quality I can make it, and quality takes time, which is something I don't have much of. And that's all I can really say, for now.

Time to go get ready for work T.T

Again. So fun.

I called in sick again today. My boss was not impressed. I have no idea what's been going around, because I know it's not just me (probably why she was so annoyed) but there are a few of us out sick. I don't know if it's a coincidence or if I caught it from one of them, but I'm not loving it. I've spent most of the day curled up writing, and I'm about to get back to that, because I have so much to fucking do, but I wanted to stop in and post my first December update!

It's almost Christmas . . . which is scary. Because I still have shopping today. And not enough cash to go around. I may go prematurely grey.

Or I may rip out all my hair before it gets to that.

Either way, back to work!

Spoiled & Sick

Well, I called in sick to work. I probably shouldn't have, but I felt like absolute trash. I have no idea what is is - some kind of stomach bug mixed with the common cold? I know I'm stuffy and I have cold sweats and my guts were twisted in knots earlier. I feel a bit better now, thanks to herbal tea and lots of sleep, but I'm not totally better. I have to go to work tomorrow no matter what, so I hope I'm better by then because if not, I'll be working another eight hour shift sick as a dog. . .

In other news to be mad about, I got spoiled for Jessica Jones. As in three deaths that I didn't know about and the overall ending of the season spoiled. Gah.

I really love it, so I'll keep watching, but I'm angry it happened. I've been avoiding the tumblr tag since I heard the news of the show to avoid any spoilers, 'cause the show sounded so interesting, only to get spoiled now. Not fun.

But what is fun is 8tracks. Which I'm obsessed with. Right now I'm listening to a random paranormal romance playlist, but I've been listening to it while drafting/editing SOSAS too, and I've found so many good mixes for fantasy writing it blows my mind.

Because I have been writing - even though it doesn't seem like it. Souls of Salt & Seawater should still be out Dec 15th (originally planned for Dec 5th, but life happened, so it's gonna be ten days later. And as far as ADSD goes, I'm still drafting, and having fun with it, exploring Lilac's present reality a year after the dark times where I left her at the end of How I Broke Us. I think I might want to have the sequel to Shadows (tentatively titled Whispers) drafted before I publish the first book, just so the wait on the sequel is shorter on your guys. I would rather have a bunch of stuff finished instead of making you guys wait the entire development stage of a project, you know?

And I don't know if I like talking about stuff before it's done, anyway. I think after SOSAS, ADSD, and Shadows are all done and out, I won't be talking about projects until they're ready to be released, because it leaves less room for waiting and disappointment when things like release dates change.

I don't know. I'm still trying to figure this all out: how long I want to take the indie route before trying traditional, how I want to market myself, which books I want to write, essentially, what do I want my artistic career to look like? It's important to me to put out a professional product.

A lot of self-pubbed books have a bunch of editing mistakes and bad covers and end up reading like a stream of consciousness. When I put out the Lilac short stories I made plenty of mistakes - hell, just the other day my mom pointed out an error in her ebook of Welcome to Midnight that I'd missed in copy edits (to be fair, I wrote that book in 2 and a half days as a surprise project) and now have to go back and give another read-through. I'm not better than all other indie authors, by far. But I do want to put out the best product I can. As cocky as it sounds, I know I'm a good writer. It's one of the few things I'm confident about - and I put out Welcome to Midnight to give readers a glimpse at the darker, more serious side of my work. It's not all going to be sunshine and rainbows and pop culture, even though it might be some of that, sometimes.

So I'm eager to put stuff out and show you guys what I can do. But I'm also aware of my limitations and flaws, and I want to be careful. I'm a fast writer, but it's not fast writing that's the problem - it's fast editing. I've rushed the final part of the process in the past, and it was a mistake. I want to take my time and do right by these projects, so I hope it's worth the wait for you guys, and I'm sorry if I feel like a ghost sometimes.

At least I'm a ghost that's nice to look at. Well, not today - today I have bed hair and black bags under my eyes. Whatever. I'm still the prettiest damn ghost you know.

Jessica Jones is a Masterpiece and I'm Really Tired

It's 3:51 am and I'm sitting in my room listening to this and dreading work tomorrow. I have a 2 to 10:30 shift, but I'll be at the mall by 12 because of my shitty bus route. I hate living outside of the city - I feel like I'm always mentioning that, but I really do. It's a half an hour walk to the bus stop, and at the halfway mark there's this dead raccoon with it's innards spilling out that I have to cross the road to avoid, and I'm tired of all my music but haven't had time to download anything new, so it's also boring as hell.

I guess I can take advantage of being early tomorrow by doing some more Christmas shopping. I still need gifts for my brother and cousin, and the gifts I got for my parents and best friend are incomplete. I also might buy lunch. But maybe not. Because I always feel guilty spending money.

My dad paid for this new laptop, so I owe him about 600 dollars, and I should be saving my money for that, on top of gas money. I don't know. It's really hard being poor. I'm sure most of you already know that. And it's not like I'm destitute or anything. At all. But I make 10 bucks an hour and I'm only working seasonal and gas is expensive and I need so many things that now that I have money it's pulling me in different directions - I need to pay my dad back. I also need new clothes. I also need stuff like medication and hygienic products I haven't been able to afford for a long time now, and I'm also supposed to be saving up for my passport, and for a phone, and it's so hard to try to balance everything I need to do on this budget.

So that's where I'm at this week. I got some work done on SOSAS, and two short chapters drafted on A Darkness So Divine, and that was fun. I wish I could write more. I wish I wasn't near-dead every time I came home at night.

For now I'm fitting anything in anywhere I can. It's hard, and it's making me feel guilty that I can't make more time for it, but on top of work and my commute and generally being a human (eating/sleeping/fighting mental illness) it's harder than it should be. But I'm going to do this. Because I have to do this. Because I've wanted it since I was ten years old and I don't think I'll ever want anything more. I don't think I'll ever love anything more than I love words, and the way they twist together on the page until I'm lost and everything else that I'm worried about doesn't matter, because at least I have this escape.

When seasonal is over, and my last semester of school is over, I'll be able to devote the time to this that it deserves. Until then, I'll have to keep scrapping by writing whenever I can squeeze it in, for an hour here or thirty minutes there, between shifts of working and sleeping.

And trying not to slap customers in the face when they snap at me for shit that isn't under my control.

Ah, the joys of retail.

Anyway, when I'm not working, writing, or sleeping, I've been watching Jessica Jones. I just got Netflix, and I was so excited to get to start watching this show - it hasn't disappointed me. I'm only on episode 7 or 8, but it's amazing, and it's making me appreciate David Tenant even though I hated him in Dr. Who. To be fair, the only one I actually enjoyed was Christopher Eccleston. I mean, Matt Smith is really handsome and sweet, but I can take or leave his Dr. And I hate the current one almost as much as I did Tenant.

But he's brilliant as Kilgrave. I mean, this show scares me. It's been pretty disturbing at times, and I've even teared up at a couple of points (to be fair, everything makes me tear up these days- movie trailers, good songs, book endings . . . maybe I'm turning into a softy) but still, I'm addicted.

I also ran down to the book store on my break and bought a copy of Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. I'm sixty-eight pages in and loving it, and me and the clerk had a nice chat about the Darkling, which was fun. I'm always blown away when I meet a book lover I share favourite series with in person, because that never happens.

Also, hmm - Kilgrave and the Darkling. Can you tell I'm fascinated by amorality?

My obsession for dangerous sociopaths aside, my obsession with herbal tea just made me spend 10 dollars on a pack of 12 gourmet tea bags from David's Teas. I grabbed a 12-pack of Buddha's Blend - it's a mix of white and green tea, and it's fucking delicious - but still and hour of work for 12 tea bags. Ugh. I have a problem. My excuse for buying both the tea and the book is, basically, yolo. I'm gonna die someday, so I might as well take pleasure in the small things while I'm here.

Because on some level I know that no matter if I become a famous author, or a pilot, or a marketing guru, or end up homeless and forgotten, no matter what happens to me, if - when - I die some day, these small moments will be all that's left of me that really matter. Having fun with my friends, shopping for gifts for the people I love, taking the first bite of a takeout lunch I probably didn't need, buying a new book just because I crave the words in it that much - those small moments are more important than anything else. And I appreciate my end-goals and I want them more than anything, but I also need to be willing that life is long and short and awful and we don't always get what we want. If I get hit by a bus or die in an unexpected fire tomorrow without ever writing all the books I want, I need to know that I can be happy with the life I've lived. So I'm not trying to forget about my goals, or forget to live while I'm alive, but I'm also not going to forget that sometime it's okay to enjoy the moment and stop worrying about the future for a bit. I have a lot of guilt to work past when it comes to doing things for myself and my mental health and happiness, and I need to remember that it's okay to do things and invest in them just because I enjoy them.

I take comfort in the fact that I'm living with my parents until after I've been out of school for a year, so I have plenty of time to make money and save up, but I still get nervous thinking about the future. Like, what if writing doesn't pan out? What if you're stuck on the same daily grind of day-job, home, write, sleep, wake up, work, write, sleep, repeat, repeat, repeat, for years? What if it's always this much of a struggle to live?

And I understand that that's my anxiety talking, but it's still hard to fight sometimes. So I also take comfort in the fact that no matter what happens, it's all life, it's all experience, and it's all valuable in the long run.

Even now, looking back, some of the memories I value the most from my life are from the times it was most difficult. Because even though I'm struggling, I'm also expanding.

So yeah. That's my mind lately. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and go to work. I'll finish up some Christmas shopping and come home and work some more, and I'll put all of this worrying out of my mind and do what I have to, but at least for tonight, I'm letting myself be anxious. I have to feel it to move past it, so that's what I'll do.