I’ve Moved!

I meant to pop in here forever ago, but things have been busy (as usual).

For the past couple years, I’ve been blogging on this domain and using my author website as a place to showcase my books. I also ended up with a domain for the South of Forever series, another for Maietta Ink… It was all getting a bit much to keep up with.

I had my author website on Wix, but this spring it was up for renewal. I liked Wix at first but haven’t been too thrilled with it these past couple months, so I made the decision to go back to WordPress.

It took me some time, but my author site is now back up and running! Check it out here. I’m blogging as usual, but there are also some goodies here and there, with more to come as I have time.

From now on, everything will be under one roof. (Famous last words, sigh.) I’ll be keeping this site up for now, because I know it’s helped a lot of people. (I haven’t decided whether I want to move all my blog posts from here over to my author site. There are quite a few and I don’t exactly have time to fix links and all that, plus I’ve been having trouble with my wrists, so I’m trying to limit my computer time.) I’m not sure if I’ll keep it up forever, though, as I’ve kind of grown out of The Crazy Chronicles. I mean, yeah, my life is crazy and probably always will be, but I bought this domain back when I thought I’d be writing a series out of Crazy Comes in Threes and wanted to document the process of growing my career.

I’ll still be blogging about my career, illness, and other things, of course, but the name no longer quite fits, you know?

But that’s enough rambling for now. Please hop on over to my author site and check out all of the goodies!

A Touch of the Flu, a Touch of Depression

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It’s been a full week since I last posted here, which is weird for me because I’m usually a font of word vomit. I managed to come down with another flu virus, though, so I’ve been busy napping. This bout was particularly nasty and, from what I understand, it’s been going around. I didn’t even bother to get swabbed, because the second my eyeballs started hurting and my temp started climbing, I knew.

Still, it’s been rough. For several days, I had muscle, joint, and skin pain. Yes, skin pain. It’s a thing I sometimes experience with my Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease, but it’s never a big deal. This? Was hell. I couldn’t move, because every inch of my upper body felt like it’d been badly sunburned. Showering and toweling off after? Hell, I tell you. The muscle and joint pain were nasty, too. On its own, the joint pain would’ve been a 6/10 and the muscle pain a 4/10, but the three together were damned near unbearable.

I decided not to call my doctor because A) Tamiflu only shortens the flu by like two days and B) I kind of currently don’t have a primary care doctor. My doctor’s office has been blowing me off ever since I sent in my letter of complaint, and I honestly didn’t have the energy to talk to them about my concerns and explain my symptoms—especially since they don’t listen in the first place.

I just toughed it out, and I’m still recovering. At this point I just have a runny nose and dry cough, and I’m still easily fatigued. I do feel better, though, so I really can’t complain. However, I’ve also come down with a touch of stupid depression.

It’s not easy for me to admit this. I kind of thought, once I’d worked through my PTSD, that I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore. But there’s been a lot going on in my personal life lately that I haven’t really talked about. I’ve been overwhelmed and dealing with a lot of anxiety, and it’s apparently turned into depression.

Granted, I think anyone in my shoes would feel this way. I’ve been through a lot lately, and things pretty much suck in my country right now. For the past several weeks—months, even—I’ve been in survival mode, reacting as I need to and staying on my feet. It’s not at all surprising that I got the damned flu again. In emergencies, I’m always the one to panic after it’s all over. Today I burst into tears and had to remind myself that Mike is okay, I’m okay, everyone’s okay, we got through it all, we’ll get through everything else.

I guess I just haven’t had the time to process everything.

So while I’m recovering from the stupid flu, I’m also working on processing the past few weeks and the things that I know are to come. I’m also working on easing up on myself; I put a lot of pressure on myself, and tonight I realized it’s time to let it go. Writing has been really hard for me lately. I had a lot of plans for 2017 and the only one dictating what I “need” to do was, well, me. I’m working on clearing my plate a bit and giving myself room to recover, as well as room to just be, and then room to grow.

I’m also working on my author website this week, so if it goes down for a while, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.

Sometimes, you just need to pause and practice breathing—and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

If You’re Not #OwnVoices, Maybe You Shouldn’t Write It

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Trigger Warning: The following discusses self-injury.


A couple days ago, a book blogger posted a photo on Instagram that several members of her audience and the book community felt triggered by. In the photo, she’d painted her hand and arm blue and added bleeding cut marks in gold. When several people politely pointed out that her photo was making them think of self-harming, she became defensive, saying she hadn’t read the book yet and didn’t know that it was harmful. She continued by stating that because she’s an artist, her photo can’t possibly be harmful because it’s art. (See screenshots of the photo and one of her comments here; the rest of her and others’ comments have been mysteriously deleted.)

It got worse from there. While more people politely spoke up and said that they too felt triggered by the photo, she became more defensive and began accusing these people of bullying her. She began deleting anyone’s comments who disagreed with her, and invited her friends to jump in and defend her from this horde of mean people recovering from self-harm. Other people started jumping in, saying “Well, it doesn’t bother me, so it shouldn’t bother you.”

When someone tells you “This hurts me, please stop,” your job is not to get defensive or angry. Your job is to listen to the human being in front of you. An appropriate response would be “I’m so sorry. I had no idea but I’m listening and I’d like to talk about this so I can do better.”

Whenever this happens, though, it’s almost always a marginalized person being bullied by a person of privilege. This blogger had no idea the effect of her photo because she’s never suffered from self-harm. She even admitted it herself, saying something to the effect of “I have depression and anxiety, but never self-harmed, so no one should be bothered by this.”

If you don’t know what the motherloving hell you’re talking about, maybe you should just not.

The book in question is Carve the Mark by Veronica Roth—a book that has been discussed to great extent for its many problematic themes. There are so many issues with this book, it’d take me a whole other blog post and then some to cover them, so I’m not going to go into detail. What I am going to talk about, though, is how privileged authors and their hordes of privileged fans are doing the marginalized communities that they pretend to serve more harm than good.

This should be obvious, right? Gather ’round. I’ll Liz-splain it to you, in case it isn’t.

Here’s how this goes down. Authors like Roth—who don’t suffer from chronic pain or self-harm, and are white—decide they want to tell a story. Maybe their intentions are good. Maybe they genuinely want to shine light on what it’s like to struggle with self-injury and chronic pain while showing the world that dark-skinned people are not dangerous by default. But in their lack of experience, their inherent prejudices show through. You don’t have to be purposely hateful to be prejudiced, by the way. This is another thing that privileged people can’t seem to wrap their heads around, but I digress.

Roth’s portrayal of these themes is problematic because of her lack of experience and neglect to consult anyone with those experiences. Often privileged authors go dancing into writing a diverse book like they’re doing marginalized communities some great big favor. They’re not.

Look, I’m a huge advocate for diverse books. I believe that the more of us who are writing them responsibly, the more normal they become. Readers won’t have to search very hard to find characters like them. But if you can’t be bothered to admit that something is outside your area of expertise and find an editor plus beta and sensitivity readers who do have that knowledge, then you shouldn’t bother to write that book. Leave that space for someone who does know what they’re talking about.

It’s pretty simple.

And if your fans are behaving problematically, posting triggering photos without regard for the people who are very nicely speaking up about it, then your book is acting as a catalyst for abuse, completely condoned by your flippant interview responses.

As authors, we have a responsibility for the weight of our words. There’s nothing wrong with including a particular topic or theme in our books—so long as it isn’t inappropriately glorified or vilified. We can’t control how our words are interpreted, nor can we control our readers’ actions, but we can do our very best to articulate ourselves well. That’s our damned job, after all.

I’ve been seeing a lot of marginalized people asking non-#OwnVoices people to stop writing diverse books, and I’m inclined to completely agree with them. Even when privileged authors do so responsibly, those who think they’re above serving their readers with care ruin it for everyone else. There are so many POC, chronic pain patients, and survivors of self-harm who should’ve had this publishing opportunity over someone who has never experienced these things and can’t possibly understand the perspective she’s written from.

I’m all for bringing diversity into your fiction whenever you can, but this attitude that some authors have—this sense of entitlement that they can do whatever they want and too bad for anyone who’s hurt by it—needs to stop. It’s a message loud and clear to your horde of privileged readers that it’s okay to treat other people with the same prejudice and disrespect.

We see you.

The Weight of Words

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Words and the way we use them are immeasurably important. The adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me” never rang true for me. Growing up, I was a damned near constant target of bullying. Nothing has had a deeper effect on me than the words that permeated through my soul.

When you hear something often enough, it chips away at you. No matter how hard you try to just shrug it off, you begin to believe it.

Words are my art medium, so I feel an even stronger responsibility for their use. This is why I was appalled to see this:

Not because I didn’t know that “spook” was a slur, but because an entire publishing team didn’t know—or didn’t care. There aren’t nearly enough people of color in publishing, nor are there nearly enough white people in publishing who actually speak up or, at the least, listen to their colleagues.

It’s true that words often change over time or hold multiple meanings, but that’s never an excuse for using them. As writers and publishers, we have a responsibility to choose and use words wisely. As white people living in a world that has always been diverse and always will be, we have a responsibility to remember the weight of racial slurs, to teach each other and our children their meaning and why it’s harmful to use them.

I’m white, so I can’t know what it’s like to have toxic words lobbed at me, stripping me of my humanity because of my skin color, but I do know what it’s like to be pelted with poison

again

and again

and again

until it seeped into my skin and became a part of me. I’m a full-grown woman but to this day I carry certain negative beliefs about myself because I heard them said to me so often. The difference is, the words that hurt me aren’t intertwined with my daily life, embedded in society. I don’t have to worry about whether a book that I pick up to enjoy will remind me that I’m viewed as other and wrong in the world that I live in.

No one should have to worry about that.

Yes, “spook” also means “spy” in the U.K., but here in the U.S. it’s also a derogatory description of black people. Its etymology varies depending on the source, and the Merriam-Webster doesn’t even list it as a slur. A huge part of progress is remembrance; here in the States, we have a bad habit of erasing important things from our collective memory, especially when it makes white people uncomfortable.

The things that we don’t talk about always come back to hurt us as a collective, doing the most damage to people of color. Ignorance enables oppression.

This is why we white people need to remember the weight of our words, to teach our children and each other how septic they can be. Pretending they no longer exist enables an entire publishing team—linguistic professionals!—to overlook an eviscerating racial slur.

Just like it wasn’t my responsibility to explain to my abusers why their words were harmful, it is not the responsibility of people of color to educate white people about slurs.

As a nation, we must remember them and confront the pain they cause head on.

And dammit, we need more people of color in publishing. We also need more white people in publishing who are willing to challenge these things right alongside them.

It Can’t Rain All the Time

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It’s hard to believe that it’s only been 10 days since Mike’s surgery; ever since then, it’s been pouring on us. I could sit here and list every single thing that’s gone wrong since, but 1) it wouldn’t really be productive and 2) ain’t nobody got time for that.

I’ve got articles to write, 15-20K to reach for SOF4, and a nice hot shower to take.

These past 10 days have been very difficult and stressful—my blood pressure was 140/92 when I checked it Wednesday night, and that was hours after I blacked out, so I’m guessing it was much higher—but Mike and I are fucking scrappy. We’ve rallied so many times these past couple weeks, and somehow we’re still cracking jokes and cracking each other up.

10 years together, and we just keep getting stronger.

We also have fantastic family and friends who have helped us in so many ways, more than I could ever count or repay. Even simple things like late-night face time with my best friend, sitting outside just talking. I told my mom last night that, while I was bailing out my tub earlier, I had a moment where I was thinking Where are the grownups? and then realized Shit—I’m the grownup! We laughed way too hard because she told me she still has moments like that.

Adulting is hard, but no one actually knows what they’re doing. Which, if you want to be cynical, could mean that we’re all just a bunch of overgrown and unsupervised kids, but I’m just grateful that I’m not the only one who doesn’t always have the answers.

It’s only February and I’ve already changed my business plan and production schedule several times to roll with life’s punches. At this point, I’ve decided to just focus on writing for now.

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It kind of sucks, because I wanted 2017 to be a publishing year for me, releasing something new every quarter or even every two months. Since my blood pressure is high, though, I need to clear my plate as much as possible. Right now I have no release dates in mind, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know when SOF4 will come out. In the meantime, check out this teaser. It’s dead sexy.

For the time being, I’m buckling down and focusing on just writing and taking care of everything in my immediate world. To keep up with me, subscribe to my newsletter.

☔️

How to Create in a Time of Resistance

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Pretty much everyone I know is having a hard time functioning right now, never mind writing or otherwise creating. Whether you’re upset by current national or international events, or things going on in your personal life, it might feel selfish or meaningless to continue making art. I’ve had a really hard time focusing on writing lately, and every 500 words has been a battle, but there are several things that have been helping me. I thought I’d share them with you so that you can keep creating, too.

Remember, simply existing is resisting. Continuing to make your mark on the world is a protest in and of itself.

Write morning pages every day.

I’ve talked about The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron in previous blog incarnations, and how working through the book helped unblock me during a long and stubborn episode of anxiety and depression. In the book, Cameron introduces the morning pages—three daily pages of stream of consciousness writing in a journal. You do it the old fashioned way, with pen and paper, and just write whatever comes to mind.

I’m terrible at doing these every day, but I almost always come back to them when I’m stressed. (Imagine how productive I’d be if I did them every day anyway!) I’ve started doing them again, and they’ve been extremely helpful. I almost always write about current news in the U.S., but by writing about it, I’m dumping the things that are blocking me. After closing my journal, I’m much more able to focus on my To Do list—and my work in progress.

Practice self-care.

Even when I’m not anxious, I often get sucked into whatever novel I’m currently writing, forgetting to do things like eat meals and shower. During times of crisis, a normal routine is more important than ever. If you’re feeling thrown, sticking to your routine will keep you grounded. Plus, just like flight attendants always tell passengers, you can’t help anyone else if you don’t put your oxygen mask on first.

You have to come first. It’s not selfish, it’s pragmatic; you can’t fight for anyone else if you’re not taking care of yourself. There are five things you should be doing every day for your own sake.

  • Eat three meals. Whether you’re hungry or not, feed yourself breakfast, lunch, and dinner—even if you can only manage small meals. Keeping your body fueled will not only give you more energy and focus, but it’ll also help stave anxiety; when your blood sugar levels drop, anxiety is often aggravated.
  • Take all medications. You might think this is a simple thing to remember, but if I’m thrown off anywhere else in my life, I can easily forget to take my meds. Get yourself a pillbox and organize your medications by day and dose time, then set reminders on your phone or with your friendly virtual assistant Siri or Alexa.
  • Get your R&R on. “How am I supposed to relax,” you ask, “when the world is burning?” It’s easier said than done, but during times of crisis it’s more important than ever to take time out. Watch something lighthearted on Netflix. Treat yourself to a hot bath or a face mask. Snuggle with your cat, dog, or other furbaby. Make sure you’re carving out some kind of “me” time every single day, allowing yourself the room to decompress and just chill.
  • Use coping methods. This goes hand in hand with relaxation. Hopefully, you already have a toolbox of coping methods you can go to when your anxiety is high. Some of my favorites include journaling, aromatherapy, meditation, hot baths, writing, reading, coloring, yoga, and music. A coping method can be anything that puts you at ease and isn’t harmful.
  • Get moving. Sometimes, the best way to dispel anxious energy is to get your body moving. Even if you have limited mobility or can’t go out for a walk, you can do things like chair dancing. Whirling through my house and cleaning like a tornado almost always calms me. On days when I’m too sore or stiff to scrub anything, though, I still walk a bit through my apartment or do some simple yoga poses, like standing forward bend.

Do your civic duty tasks before you create.

Remember what I said about creating a routine? Build your work as an activist into your day, making your tasks part of your regular schedule. That way, when you sit down to write or paint or create, you’re not thinking about what you “should” be doing to save the world, because you’ve already done it.

Pick a couple issues that are important to you and stick with them. Right now, so many things are happening so quickly, it can feel overwhelming to keep up with them all. The truth is, though, that you can’t fight every battle. You can try, but you’ll just burn yourself out. By assigning yourself a daily task to fight for one or two causes, you’ll be organizing yourself for action.

Remember, this fight is a four-year marathon, not a sprint.

For example, my daily tasks are:

  • share information that is sourced and fact-checked
  • support my fellow activists with kind words and self-care reminders
  • cheer on my state senators and representatives, and bring issues to their awareness as needed

Yours might be something like “call my senator and ask them to please fight the Muslim ban” or “make my sign for tonight’s women’s rights gathering.”

Then get your tasks done. Set a timer if you need to keep yourself from losing track of the day passing. You can also do them in batches—whatever works best for your lifestyle and schedule.

Put your ass in the chair and create.

Your art is important. Even if it has nothing to do with current events, people need what you’re making. If you’re writing a romance, you’re giving people an escape. If you’re painting a protest piece, you’re encouraging other rebels. If you’re knitting caps and mittens, you’re keeping people warm.

The world needs your art.

The world needs you.

  • Unplug. Log out of Twitter and Facebook. Close your news tab or app. Shut off the ringer on your phone and get away from distractions. Turn off the TV and radio. It’ll all still be there when you’ve finished your work for the day.
  • Put on some music to help you focus or relax. I like the Deep Focus playlist on Spotify. Soundtracks and ambient spa music work well, too. Or maybe you need some thrash metal to get your fingers moving over the keys. Plug those earbuds in and block out the world.
  • Set a daily goal. Whether you’re writing a novel or painting on canvas, setting a daily goal for yourself keeps you on task. Be realistic and gentle with yourself; when you’re already stressed, setting high or unachievable goals may put more pressure on you. You may want to set goals that are possible but challenging, or goals that you know you can easily reach.
  • Hold yourself accountable. Sprint with a friend. Find someone in your industry to buddy up with. My work wife J.C. Hannigan and I did two 30-minute sprints yesterday. Share your progress on social media as you meet milestones. I like to tweet out my total word count at the end of every day. Sharing your momentum keeps you motivated, and more likely to reach the end because other people know how far you’ve come.

Using these tips every single day will get you back into productivity in no time—especially if you’re gentle with yourself and allow yourself to do what works best for you. Give these things a try and experiment to see what has the best effect.

Did these tips help? Please leave me a comment and let me know, or share any other suggestions!

I Won’t Be Silenced

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Recently a popular book blogger announced that they won’t be supporting authors who talk about politics, their children, and other non-book topics. Artists have always shaped the world around us, since the world around us is what shapes our work. Looking back through history, artists have been on the frontline during any great social or political change—either through expression, or through persecution.

The first novel I ever published, Sade on the Wall, was a culmination of years of watching loved ones struggle with addiction and being powerless to save them. I’d recently lost a high school friend to a heroin overdose, a close relative had disappeared to crack addiction, and an ex-boyfriend hurt me physically and emotionally for years while succumbing to alcohol and multiple drug addictions. If I chose to not talk about my personal life or social issues, Sade on the Wall would not exist.

None of my books would exist.

Survivors of rape, sexual assault, and incest know better than anyone else what the price of silence is. Any trauma survivor knows. There’s only so long that you can squash down the things that hurt your soul. Eventually, it either consumes you or you have to free your voice.

You have to speak your truth.

In the past year and a half, I’ve begun speaking my truth. My voice gets louder and louder, and with every step of my journey to healing, I feel more free.

I will never be silent again.

I will continue to talk about my traumas, my autoimmune disease, my cat, and my godkids. And I will continue to talk about the horrible things that Trump and his cabinet are doing to my country and her people.

If we all remained silent, if we all kept the things that are important to us to ourselves, what would the point be in being human? Humanity is about connection; we’ve needed art to explain the world around us since the dawn of time. When we find others who share our experiences, we feel less alone. We are supported. We are able to press on and survive.

Too often we turn the other cheek to suffering. We walk past the homeless veteran begging for change, turn up the volume on our headphones while our neighbor beats his girlfriend, pretend not to hear other classmates make fun of a disabled student. The worst kind of silence is apathy. To refuse to speak out is to enable the suffering, to assist the oppressor. Few spoke against Hitler, and he systemically violated group after group of innocent citizens, altogether murdering millions and millions of people. Hardly anyone spoke against Roosevelt when he rounded up Japanese-Americans, took them from their homes, and put them in camps, violating their American civil rights in a hypocritical attempt to protect Americans.

I understand that many readers use books as an escape hatch. I know I always have. Some people don’t want to think or hear about bad things because they have enough going on in their personal lives. I completely understand needing to insulate yourself and create a safe space.

But I will not be silent for the sake of selling more books.

I’ve always written to make sense of the world around me and my personal life. I created Jett to cope with a family member struggling with alcohol abuse; I couldn’t make my loved one stop drinking, but I could write about Jett’s journey to recovery.

I can’t stop the Trump administration from persecuting Muslims and taking away my healthcare, but I can write about two teenagers fighting white nationalists in their city.

I can’t cure my autoimmune disease or control my pain, but I can write about a queer spoonie and the girl who rescues her from her pain prison.

I love my readers and I appreciate your support, but I will never change who I am for the sake of selling more books. First and foremost, I am an artist. A real person with real worries, struggles, and triumphs. Words are the only weapon I’ve ever had, and with them I speak the truth.

Resist Trump: Where to Donate

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I thought I’d put together a list of organizations who are fighting for our civil rights here in the States, for those of us who are able to donate.

If you can’t donate, it’s okay! There are other ways to help, like continuing to be the kind person you are. Simply existing is resisting—especially if you’re from one of the marginalized groups who stand to lose a lot. You can keep creating art, volunteer in your community, attend town meetings to have your voice heard, educate people, and speak up when you see or hear something that is wrong.

This list is ever-growing, and is in alphabetical order; each are equally important to me. If you’d like to suggest an organization, please leave a comment and tell us who they are!

Even a $5 donation here and there is helpful; if every one of us did that, we could support these organizations in their fights for us. Please donate now.

  • ACLU is a non-partisan group of lawyers who uphold the Constitution and Americans’ civil and human rights.
  • Black Lives Matter works with local police and communities to improve the lives of all black people, addressing social issues and needs within the black community.
  • Lakota Law Project was originally created to stop state departments from wrongly taking Lakota children out of their homes and placing them into foster care. They’re also dedicated to fighting the Dakota Pipeline.
  • Planned Parenthood provides affordable healthcare for women, men, and teens—including but not limited to cancer screening and treatment, birth control, and family planning.
  • RAINN assists survivors of sexual assault with counseling, emergency care, and crisis support. They also provide education, work to improve sexual assault justice, and fight rape culture.
  • Trans Lifeline and The Trevor Project provide suicide prevention services for LGBTQIA youth and adults.

Looking for other ways to help? Resistance Manual is a fantastic resource put together by DeRay McKesson and others with information on the Trump administration’s and GOP’s proposed policies and agendas, and how to fight them.

You can also donate to organizations right in your own community. To find them, Google search things like “sexual assault nonprofit Connecticut.”

These organizations need your help now more than ever, as their tireless work is putting a huge strain on their resources (and the Trump administration has already begun federally-defunding some of them).

Please comment with any organizations who need our help, and share this list wide.

Note to Self

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You can’t catch up on old projects and work on new ones at the same time. It just doesn’t work that way, especially with chronic illness—and life in general. Sometimes, you just have to accept that shit happens and, rather than “should”ing on yourself, slow down and focus on what’s most important.

Your physical health.

Your mental health.

Your loved ones.

Your wellbeing.

Eerily accurate. #virgo #horoscope #2017goals

A post shared by Elizabeth Barone (@elizabethbarone) on

Goals can be adjusted. Production schedules can be rearranged.

So, tomorrow morning, grab a cup of coffee, let go of the things you think you should be doing, and be gentle with yourself.

You’re way more important than any silly schedule.

The Last in Line

The biggest fuck you I can think of is for us to survive, create, and thrive—despite and in spite.

Ever since I was a small girl, I most loved stories that were epic battles of good versus evil. I think that’s why I fell so hard for Dio and his music; every single song of his is about an epic battle between good and evil. Tonight, “The Last in Line” is so very hauntingly fitting.

Right now it looks as if we in the U.S.—and even abroad—are heading into some very hard times. If you have a pulse and have at all been paying attention, you already know what I’m talking about. If you’re living in some kind of denial, well, I feel sorry for you. The past two months have felt like the calm before the storm—if you can call any of this calm.

At the very least, I’ll be losing my healthcare. Myself and my loved ones with chronic illnesses—including cancer—who rely on the Affordable Care Act are soon to be left hanging off a cliff. Millions of Americans depend on the ACA, yet Trump, his cabinet, and the GOP have been hard at work dismantling it. There’s no backup plan proposal, and even Congress re-allocated the portion of the budget that previously covered the ACA for miscellaneous expenses.

This is only the start.

Whenever I start to feel afraid, though, I dry my tears and turn that fear into anger. Anger is what’s going to get me through these next four years, because if I’ve learned nothing else in the past 28 years, it’s that I’m a survivor.

Throughout the past two months, I’ve been doing a lot of digging. I’ve always been very self-aware, but now more than ever it’s become extremely important for me to know who I am. I need to remember, because if things get very hard and very dark, that fire is what will carry me through.

Tonight I feel like I’m at a wake. Never in my nearly three centuries of life have I ever been afraid of a U.S. president. I may have disagreed with some of their policies, but I’ve never questioned whether they would do their job and serve the people of their country. We’ve had some tough times in my country, but we’ve continued making progress.

During these last eight or weeks, I’ve examined my values and morals hard. I’ve made note of things I would never do, should the shit really hit the fan. I’ve tried to prepare myself as much as possible by focusing on the things that I can control.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about how I can make a difference—just little me, a queer disabled woman who recently got her voice back. I’ve been thinking about my writing, how I can make a difference with my stories. How I can change the world.

Not with some grand undertaking, but by telling stories that normalize the things that are important to me.

While they’re normalizing hate—racism, sexism, ableism, rape, homophobia, transphobia, bigotry, anti-Semitism, anti-Muslim, xenophobia, the list goes on for way too long (my, how much they hate!)—I’ll be normalizing a world where differences are celebrated. Where those of us who don’t fit the cis-het-white-ablebodied-male mold don’t have to be afraid.

Because it’s normal for us to exist.

The biggest fuck you I can think of is for us to survive, create, and thrive—despite and in spite.

And maybe that’s idealistic and naive of me. Trust me, I don’t think my words are the deus ex machina that is going to allow me to keep receiving healthcare and allow my dear gay friend to walk the streets of America without harassment.

But words are and have always been my only weapon.

First, words were the cloak with which I shielded myself from school bullies and evil men. My stories gave me something to believe in when I couldn’t believe in the world around me.

I don’t know what’s going to happen after tomorrow. I do know, though, the things I’ll never do.

I’ll never hurt an innocent person.

I’ll never remain silent when I see something wrong.

And I’ll never stop writing.

Halfway through writing this post, while I was washing dishes, I turned on the latest episode of the Self-Publishing Podcast. It just so happened that the topic of that episode is one that’s been heavy on my mind: changing the world with your stories.

Artists have always helped shape the world, whether through loud protest or more subtle nudging. I firmly believe that just existing is resisting, and continuing to create in the face of such oppression is our birthright as artists.

Those of us wielding pens and paintbrushes are some of history’s most prominent rebels.

Turns out that the guys of SPP and Laura have put together a FREE masterclass, Storytelling for Social Profit—meaning, how to infuse your stories with current social issues in order to create change. I just signed up, because if nothing else, I now know it’s not just me who’s been thinking about this. If you’re interested, sign up here, but make sure you do it now because apparently the materials are only going to be available for a limited time.

We’ll know for the first time
If we’re evil or divine
We’re the last in line

These words keep echoing in my head. In this past year, it’s become more and more clear which people are good, and which are complete garbage fires. I think, in these coming months, we’re going to find ourselves tested even further.

I’m going to continue to do what I’ve been doing for the past five years: writing stories that feature strong women who took a different path. Stories focusing on social issues. Stories normalizing those of us who are labeled as “other” and therefore “wrong.”

My words are my weapon, and I’m going to war.