I have to remind myself: Good things happened this year. My short story was featured in the NOIR anthology from Zombies Need Brains. A.J. Harris was accepted into two more anthologies, scheduled for publication this year. I spoke at the World Science Fiction convention about ghosts and Noir. While there, I reconnected with a book-club friend (and supported him on his panels) while connecting with other folks.
But, things have also gone wrong. My summer was a summer of grief. Craig, my father-in-law and one of the most decent men I’d ever had a chance to meet, left us suddenly. After Chicon, I lost most of my fall to COVID (and follow-up illnesses). Work became an ongoing Kafkaesque nightmare. My friends suffered their own setbacks – family losses and illness; erosion of mental health. Beloved pets passed away…
I lost Adia. I lost my little tiger-striped boy, companion for almost a decade.
I lost heroes. I lost sleep. I have, at times, lost hope.
So what keeps me going?
Memories of beautiful days when I had the fall I wanted – even if it was just for a few hours.
My amazing wife and partner.
My family and friends, who keep encouraging me to write.
Other authors, like the ones in my Writer’s Support Group and the Sunday write-alongs I participate in, who somehow think I’m a machine.
The folks on the various #NoirAlley feeds, who give me a community in the shadows.
Dreams of Christmas in Chicago, with snow, and fancy dinners, and quiet mornings where I can ignore whatever new crisis work has created.
Hope, And joy. And weirdness. All bundled into brilliant little moments, like these:
Dream well, all
Biomechanoid Blues 