this year has been…a lot. turns out living under fascism is not great! who could have foreseen this? (everyone. it’s everyone. obviously a lot of people doggedly insisted on not foreseeing it, or in fact recognizing it now, but we all could have and should have, and those of us who understood where this was going ten years ago [or more!] are real fucking tired.)

anyway! what a bleak start to an email! haha alas.

despite it all, i spent a good portion of the year writing a book. that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? write the next thing. only i have written so many next things and none of them are actually next. there is no next right now.

i have continued to send out short fiction, though at a much much slower pace than in past years. as of today, i’ve had three stories accepted, and none of them were typical.

acceptance number one was for a solicited story for an anthology put together by my friends theo and merc; the kickstarter didn’t fund, so that publication is currently in limbo, but i’m still checking “invited anthology author” off my bucket list.

acceptance number two was for a story i’d submitted to a special project cosmic horror monthly was putting together, a shirley jackson–inspired collection, and the editor jolie emailed me to say she loved the story but it wouldn’t fit the anthology, and would i be willing to have it in the regular magazine for the october (halloween) issue? of course i would.

and acceptance number three was the strangest and most magical of all: michael from weird horror emailed me about a story i’d sent and he had rejected months earlier: he’d had a dream about it, and was it still available? friends, when i tell you i’ve had dreams about this very scenario! and as a bonus, i wrote this story fully ten years ago and it was one of the very first i sent to any magazine. it will be out in the spring issue.

i’ve had three stories published this year, two of which were acceptances from last year.

brighter than anything on earth is a 4,300 word story published in worlds of possibility. the original first line of this story was “The chosen one was just a game we played as children.” this is arguably the hook of the story, but editor julia wisely pointed out that it isn’t the theme, and we took the line out.

every taco bell in america is a 1,000 word flash story published in if there’s anyone left. it’s about grief and finding a portal to the original taco bell.

a suggestion of gills is a 3,300 word story published in cosmic horror monthly. it’s about an aquatic themed strip club and possible mermaids and it’s very gay. (everything i write is pretty gay but it’s explicit in this one.)

this fall marked ten years of submitting short fiction, and five years since i started querying agents. i’ve had roughly two dozen publications and signed with an agent last year, on my third try (meaning the third book—more like the hundred and fiftieth query). it hasn’t escaped my notice that both endeavors took three and a half years to be successful. i am terrified that it will also take three and a half years to sell a novel, which would put me over fifty at publication. there is nothing wrong with debuting at fifty or older, but i’ve been trying for so long. i am tired and discouraged.

oh dear, i seem to be veering back toward bleak. i’ve had a very hard time recently.

most of my time (and money) has gone into caring for and living with cats. instead of recovering from her spay surgery in one to two weeks like most cats do, theo almost died and recovery took six weeks. i have literal scars. then ernie showed up with an extremely persistent case of giardia, on top of which he is a total scamp and keeps me on my toes (very uncomfortable). theo scared us all half to death by acting extremely unlike herself for several weeks, prompting many, many tests and resulting in a tentative diagnosis of…anxiety and an upset tummy (she did not catch giardia). so. she is much better now, but that was expensive and inconclusive and did i mention expensive?

i’ve been trying very hard to tip the work-life scale further toward life, but this is not what i meant!

i did have some successes there. i’ve been to more book events this year than any other year in my life, probably (i haven’t actually tracked this). i’ve written in some strange places while chauffeuring my son around the inland empire (where his bestie lives). i only went to the beach once, but that’s largely due to them being closed for a while after the palisades fire. i’ve spent more time with local friends. i saw a lifelong bucket list show (cyndi lauper at the hollywood bowl) and got to bring my kid to his first big show.

i’m doing my best and sometimes even succeeding. but the fact is, i still haven’t sold a book and i’m not sure i’ll ever be truly satisfied until i do.

downer ending. oops.

alack,
annika