• Category Archives live light
  • At my leisure

    Just poking my head out of my little bunker of work and of fighting despair to think out loud a little. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how events since about late 2016 have impacted what I create and what I consume for pleasure. And I’ve been alive and watching the world and dealing with depression long enough to know that this isn’t normal for me.

    I’m not going to list the events that are influencing me; you and I live in the same world and can see the same news items and current events. I’m not trying to say that the world is worse than it’s ever been…Though I’m not trying to not say that.

    A black and white drawing of a cat. Over the cat is the question "Why is the cat screaming?" Beneath the cat is a list. 1. Why wouldn't the cat scream? 2. If you were smart, you'd be doing the same thing.

    But what I am trying to say is that it’s all changed what I want to read and watch and write. I can no longer bear the grim post-apocalyptic or dystopian stories that I used to love. I am hungry for happy endings and journeys to them that aren’t too rough. I comfort watch and read and listen even more than I used to, leaning into characters who feel enough like me that I have a sense of being even less alone in what hurts. I unexpectedly weep when there are loads of marginalised characters in something…and I get even crankier (by which I mean, yikes, do I do a lot of snarling into the air) at bad representations of marginalised people or at stories heavily dominated by non-queer, non-disabled, white men.

    On the other hand, with how much I cannot get enough of grim poems, unhappy songs, and dancing like I think I can exorcise the despair in me? I’ve always been this way, but haven’t been so very much this way since I was a teen.

    Anyway, the world is a very hard place and I have no shame about the changes I’m making to all this in the name of self-compassion. After all—and this is for you too—the parts of my time and mind that I don’t have to give over to barely surviving in this capitalist dumpster fire? Those are mine and I am not going to feel bad about using them to build joy, hope, recovery.

    (I should have made this a post about the importance of art for how we cope with and survive life, but I just don’t have it in me to do that topic justice today. And plenty of others are constantly writing about that, so you probably already know.)


  • Unexpected payoffs of peace

    Whilst it’s been months since the last of the Peaceforger books was published, I’m still processing their impact on my life. I think that the value of doing creative things is often under-realised, and I want everyone—even if not for money or fame and regardless of talent—to have the goodness of doing creative things. So, to inspire you to go do creative things, here is a list in no particular order of…

    5 unexpected ways writing the Peaceforger books has made my everyday life better

    Purple backdrop with darker purple confetti on it. A trophy shaped like a person holding a star lies on it next to 5 silver stars

    • Katja was pretty good at placing blame where it belonged instead of letting guilt that wasn’t hers hang around. Writing her let me practise that enough that her voice now lives in my head…And now I’m better at applying that to my own life. Sorry (not sorry), corporations and capitalism and other structures and people that profited off me not realising the guilt was theirs.
    • I watched people support me and I witnessed one beta reader bravely trust our friendship as she overcame fears about ruining our friendship to give me complete and honest feedback. The end result was that the beta readers and those who supported me created stronger relationships with me.
    • With multiple reasons to consider what makes someone a person, I got the fun of pondering philosophical topics, a few new writing ideas, and a chance to explore common societal biases most of us don’t recognise, which I hope has helped me cleanse some biases I didn’t notice from my brain.
    • I learned more about how my brain works and about what things I actually do have loads of capacity and capability to do. Knowing this is great for planning self-care but also for having something to counter the negativity when I am made to feel bad because of things for which I have little to no capacity and/or capability.
    • I gained more faith in myself as a writer because…1) Finishing one book is a lot, but it’s a whole other thing to pen a sequel and then to finish a trilogy…and 2) I ended up with a different process for each book, leaving me more open to a variety of approaches. Now, I stress less when things that worked before don’t work now. I know I can do this if I just keep poking at things.

    I could make similar lists, each with unique items, for writing poetry, making music, acting, making videos, and all my other creative endeavours (including the ones I’m not at all good at).

    What unexpected goodness have you gotten by doing creative things?


  • Thank my lucky star, man

    In January, 5 months ago exactly, when I made my “Happy birthday, David Bowie” tweet, I said someday I’d have to find time to post about how David Bowie was “a massive part of how I didn’t lose–and learned to love–my authentic, Autistic self in the face of normal societal pressures and some of the wiring that is typical if one is AFAB and Autistic.”

    A tweet that reads “Happy birthday, David Bowie! Someday I’ll have to find time to post about how you were a massive part of how I didn’t lose--and learned to love--my authentic, Autistic self in the face of normal societal pressures and some of the wiring that is typical if one is AFAB and Autistic”

    And today it’s someday.

    It’s an incomplete list and all bullet points, but that’s because I’m attempting to keep it short, because I know I can go on when it’s a topic I care a lot about. Trying to pretend I can play it as cool as he did…

    70s Bowie with a shock of red hair and a metallic blue jacket standing by a sign that reads "Mars Hotel"

    • He saved me from forming silly typical rules in my brain about gender things.
    • He gave me a different view on sexuality so, even when I only knew one could be gay or not-gay, I didn’t think I was imagining that I fancied all sorts of people.
    • He helped me see that there was something glorious in not being like everyone else—not mirroring the h*ck out of mainstream aesthetics.
    • He made me believe I didn’t need to be like everyone else to be successful and beloved.
    • He made music I could love enough that it led me to connect more to music in general and connected me to all the music that has saved me.
    • His personas and knowing he used personas for public things helped me engage more in the acting that helped me do performative neurotypical-ness. I’m not ashamed of being Autistic and wouldn’t change how I am, but the world sure would. And performing emotions and socialising the typical way has been sadly necessary in this world.
    • And his personas and how he used them also helped me sort out how to do my creative stuff more healthily and somehow also with a little more authenticity. (Like Oscar Wilde said: Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.)

    I’m lucky to have grown up in a home where I was introduced to him when I was still a toddler. Even if my parents were nowhere near as outside the norm as he was, my brain cleverly latched onto his appearance and his vibe…And I was able to believe I was who I felt like I was, and not who the world told me I was supposed to be. Forever and ever, I’m a Blackstar.

    David Bowie in the Blackstar video, holding up a battered book with a black star on the cover

    ps Keep your eyes open. I have it on good authority that bits about my next creative release will start trickling out later this month.


  • The Art of Surviving

    We’re closing in on a year since the governor the state where I live told people to stay home in order to prevent the spread of COVID-19. Like many of you, I’m grateful for the science and technology that made it easier to stay home and still (kind of) do most things I was doing before. But, surprising no one, I don’t want this to be one more place where we forget to also be grateful for art.

    Even in the before times, I thought a lot about the art we took for granted. And a lot of what I read about how people were coping with the pandemic times made it clear how much more crucial art was for better lives. So, here’s to all the art, the creative endeavours, that make life better. Like…

    All the books and poetry and stories and music and TV and movies that are filling your hours, hopefully making things at least easier to tolerate.

    All the opera, ballet, plays, concerts of assorted kinds, livestreaming club DJs, and other “live” performance, even when it’s just streamed online.

    All the architecture and interior design that make the places we’re in (or that we see on our walks and drives) nicer to look at and better fits for us.

    All the clothing design (yes, a designer was behind even that cheap t-shirt you love) that means I’m not doing all this whilst wearing, I don’t know, a burlap sack or something.

    All the photos and paintings and sculpture and other such art, whether it’s on my walls or online.

    All the makeup—and some of you are wildly creative and talented—that proves a face can be a great canvas.

    The TikTok videos and comedy shows and Tumblr “cooperative storytelling” posts that keep the laughs coming.

    And also the creativity poured into well-decorated desserts. Or the simple art that is encouraging quotes put on top of a drawing and posted online.

    And the fan stuff…the fanfic and fanvids and fan art. I am definitely not one of those snobs who say it has no value.

    And the crayon-on-paper masterpieces lovingly made by inexpert hands. Things don’t have to be marketable to have value and to make life better, even for a moment.

    And, yes, the creative endeavours we take part in—even if we totally suck at them and would never share with others or they seem super minor—to pass the time, to try a new thing, to get some enjoyment.

    Etc etc etc.

    Seriously, if something is aesthetically pleasing or evoking emotions or distracting you, it might count as art. (Not everything that meets one or more of those criteria is art, but a lot of things are the product of creative work, are art, that people don’t realise.)

    So, yes, be grateful you can do video calls and stream things and get vaccinated and so forth (that stuff is awesome!), but don’t forget that science and technology aren’t the only things making life better. Art is also how we survive…and definitely how we thrive.


  • Live Light

    Brace yourselves, because this is about to be real talk. Real cheesy hokey uncool not-rock’n’roll blah blah blah. Really.

    One set of hashtags I use regularly corresponds to one of my guiding aphorisms when I write: #WriteDark #LiveLight. “Write dark” is probably obvious if you’ve read my books, poetry, or lyrics.

    “Live light,” well, that’s what got us to this post. Because even when I was wearing only black and was so deep in undiagnosed depression that it’s a wonder I didn’t drown, I couldn’t help but believe in love and light. In the value of kindness and compassion. In the importance of spreading goodness and hope. My gallows humour has always lived side-by-side with my idealism and soft heart.

    You can’t see it, but she is bristling with magic

    One of the changes to that as I got the therapy I needed was that I understood that I deserved plenty of the good stuff in my own life. And I have spent years finding ways to make sure I never let myself get totally lost in the dark again.

    I’ve noticed the last few years, though, that life stopped feeling as magical as I’d like it to quite a while ago. Unfortunately, I think that’s a natural consequence of becoming an adult in this toxic pit of capitalism and patriarchy. And I don’t have kids, so I don’t have anyone forcing me to make space for holiday-orientated magic.

    But. For the last few months, I’ve been feeling this growing sense that I need to add monthly celebrations to my already over-full life. (Really, thanks to my writers group, I’ve been at least pondering whether I am really letting myself down as regards celebrating things for almost a year now.) So, why didn’t I go for it right away?

    Because celebrations, even the most basic kind that appeal to me, take time and/or money and/or effort, none of which I can really manage.

    Because celebrations like this feel frivolous and cheesy. (And did I ever confess that I’m not fun-motivated? Sorry to ruin your image of me.)

    Because I wasn’t sure (until I sat down to have a good think) what celebrations would actually accomplish. Not in the toxic, capitalist sense, but more in the sense that I feel divinely driven to not waste time in my life.

    Because I am not really clear about what really merits celebrations, by which I really mean merits the time, money, and/or effort.

    Like I said, I sat with these reasons not to celebrate and I came up with a list of what I thought celebrations would accomplish.

    I think they will encourage, and give me one more chance to show, gratitude. Those of you who follow me on social media know I think quite a lot of gratitude. I honestly think it’s magical.

    I think they will help me refill my resilience bank account, or at least keep it from going into the red, by giving me a little recovery and relaxation time.

    I think they will help me regain a little sense of some of the magic I feel has disappeared from my life. Maybe not the giddy, squealing joy of a wee kid at Christmas with a couple new books and a buffet of treats to which I’m allowed to help myself. But there are other kinds of magic, with sparkle enough to help me feel like I’m at least a bit farther from living dark instead of light.

    And that’s why, every month, I’m going to celebrate something. (I’ve jotted down an initial list of things for each month.) I’m going to start simple and see how it evolves…have a meal, enjoy a dessert, do some kind of activity (e.g., consume a short book, movie, TV; make art; dance a little; relax). Just a couple of warm, soul-feeding hours.

    For September, I’m celebrating Autumn and education. I think that’s going to call for a sweater, a book, and warm food (still brainstorming the menu…though dessert will involve apples and/or cinnamon probably). Simple. Cosy. And…then I’ll just have to make sure I’m mindful enough that it’s a celebration instead of being tasks ticked off my list.

    This cool cat gets it…

    If I can remember, just in case you’re into it as well, I’ll mention what I’m celebrating in my newsletter every month and maybe even write a quick blog post. We’ll see.

    (I know a couple of folks I’ve talked to about this are going to come up with exciting themes for each month and make a whole thing of it, break up the monotony of daily life, include their kids in the fun. If I had time, I’d do a whole blog—not just a post—of ideas, because I got excited brainstorming with them. So, you know, if this is speaking to you, go as wild—or quiet—as you want!)

    Feel free to use the comments to tell me:

    • That you still think I’m cool…Heh!
    • How and/or what you already love to celebrate.
    • What celebratory things you might be inspired to do having read this completely hokey but sincere mass of words.