Beware: It’s February, and There Shall Be Swearing.
Well, breachlings, I’ve somehow forgotten to newsletterize (it’s now a word) since October. Massive apologies for once more ignoring time.
Truth is, it’s been a weird stretch. Don’t worry, I won’t use you as my AOL Instant Messenger account (R.I.P., bostonmuchacha89), posting passive-aggressive song lyrics by Celine Dion or Shania Twain (though “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now”). We shall keep this an emotionally shackled space and not ask each other why we’re all shopping for ice cream, chamomile tea, heating pads, sound machines, wine, dark chocolate, and laxatives.
Quick side note: I was doing some cyber-purging, and let’s all appreciate this burn I used in 2004 against my darling sister (in good “fun,” of course):
You’re a pumpernickel soggy bread piece with little pointed teeth coming out of the CD rack criticizing your Anglo-Saxon warlord about the whining peasants playing with the soccer ball they got from your grandma last Christmas.
I also called her a crusty inchworm, apparently. The early millennium at its finest. Bless the 2000s.
Anyway…back to pretending I know what I’m talking about.
Between some personal stuff, a tree falling on my house (no damage thankfully), my previously finished basement flooding because of dingleberry weather (kindly wrecking much drywall and carpet), and my car deciding this is the perfect time to make swamp monster noises from its rear shocks, life has been a delight lol. Again, this is not to complain—there will be no unsolicited wielding of lyrics and videos of me belting “A New Day Has Come,” “From This Moment On,” or the ridiculous, undramatic musical I started writing in my mutilated basement, though the slab echoes quite nicely now that it’s naked. (Storm damage, why do you hit so hard? Storm damage, I need a break from God! You came in the night and swept all my money out to sea! Let me free from this catastrophe!) Cue a reel of me getting progressively drunker and more deranged with each verse. Super undramatic, as I said.
But I’m not here to vent. I only want to explain to you lovely people, who for some reason subscribe to this anarchic nonsense, why I seem to randomly vanish when I anger the old gods with my necrophilia and incest scenes.
So, yeah. Your favorite dumpster fire is back-ish, at least for a squirt, with the explanation you never asked for, spurting these random words into your eyeballs.
Then what have I been doing besides panic-baking, running like a maniacal horse, ugly-crying in the shower, bingeing cinnamon gum, and blasting meditation music in my ears? (I AM RELAXED, DAMMIT. SO FUCKING RELAXED.) Though seriously, this track is fucking delicious for my neurotic, hyperactive, OCD mind. If you, too, get racing thoughts at 3 a.m. and your heart decides to hump your ribs at random hours in the night, maybe give it a shot.
ANYWAY…
I’ve been writing when I can, diving into fictional worlds to escape the erect dick of adulting, praying for the day when houses and cars take care of their own goddamn selves. I’m on a hiatus from editing a dark fantasy duology while I draft a separate dark fantasy standalone. It’s based on Dante’s Inferno and the founding of Rome set at a magic school in a dying world with toxic twins who fuck shit up. I’m also tentatively writing a romcom with a surprise inheritance, an unapologetic FMC, a musical- and HGTV-loving MMC, an unassumingly murderous grandmother who definitely did not kill all those people who wronged her family, and a cat named Liquid Shits. The romcom might go nowhere—though it has seemed to go everywhere in terms of absurd poop jokes. However, I’ve found the humor—or making myself laugh, at least—helps unlock the dark fantasy. So perhaps the romcom is just a whore I’m using on the side, but I’ve had some delirious fun with it. Sorry to my neighbors for witnessing me cackling over a dildo joke that went too far.
I’ve also been trying very hard to stay on top of my mental health. To be honest, the tree and flood rocked me. Shit could always be worse, yet I’m trying to validate the difficulties instead of listening to my inner ’90s kid telling me to shut up, shut down, and bury those ghastly feelings. The offspring and I are safe and healthy, and I focus on that, but when repair costs start breeding like horny rabbits, it can be overwhelming, and “That Don't Impress Me Much.” NO, SHANIA TWAIN! GET BACK IN YOUR CAGE! I’m also trying this crazy thing where I admit life is hard instead of shoving it down into the Shit Pit of Avoidance. Even typing this feels itchy, but I’m trying to be accountable and retrain my self-sabotaging brain, because “I’m Alive,” and “My Heart Will Go On.” NOT YOU, TOO, CELINE DION! ENOUGH MYSPACE ATTENTION-SEEKING!
ANY-FUCKING-WAY, if life feels tough and overwhelming right now, if you feel trapped and like change is a flaky bitch who won’t give you the time of day, you’re not alone. That’s really why I share this shit, to normalize the chaos. If we keep too much inside, we become mentally constipated, and there are only so many times you can buy mineral oil and prune juice at the grocery store before Ron from Customer Service starts asking questions.
So if everything feels devastating, if your to-do list is endless, if the low-battery alert in a smoke alarm makes you sob and panic because it’s one more fucking thing that you can’t fit into your roaring skull, then know I’m right there with you, swaddling myself in fleece blankets, learning all the songs to Annie (the sun will come out, or else), futilely researching places where the weather doesn’t feel like icy diarrhea half the year, and texting disinterested friends reasons why the toga was, in fact, the height of fashion.
News
No news yet! I’m taking it slow for once and figuring things out as I go. It’s weird to not have released any individual books last year (besides being part of the Malarkey’s anthologies, which was a massive honor) and to have no immediate plans for this year (stay tuned for a joint novella with Ross Young and Chris Hooley I’m super excited about), though they say it’s not the size of the ship, but the motion of the ocean, and I now see that saying doesn’t apply here.
Recent Reads
Here are some recent books/stories I LOVED!
A Shiver of Rainbow and Shadow by Rose J. Fairchild
Just a World Away: A Collection of Modern Folk Tales, edited by John Tannhauser, with authors Amy Lima, Lani Davies, Jonathan Beck, Gaynor Blackburn, C.S. Voll, Jana Jenkins, Jethro Weyman, & Lila
The Darcy Secret by Kelly Miller
Peaches and Honey: These Immortal Truths by R. Raeta
Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery by Brom
Any Man by Amber Tamblyn
Flowers on the Moon by Billy Chapata
Treasure by Oyinkan Braithwaite
The Visit by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Zikora by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid
The Will of the Many by James Islington
Seven Devils by Elizabeth May & Laura Lam
The Crane Husband by Kelly Barnhill
Podcasts/Channels to Stalk
The Writing Community Chat Show, Story of a Storyteller, The Tiny Bookcase, Boomers on Books, The Shadow’s Project, Steve Talks Books, What The Book, Human Chapters, Words & Pictures, Talk Wordy to Me
Aggressive Love
We’ve reached the end of this word-vomited train wreck, my darlings. Thanks billions for sticking with me, and please forgive my mayhem! This wasn’t intended as a “woe is me” brain dump/email invasion at all—I’m doing fine (TOTALLY FUCKING RELAXED), and I’m always grateful I have my kids, family, friends, home, and health. I’m also thankful I’ve had some time to write (and that I continue to enjoy writing after the Bubonic Writing Slump of 2022–3). I hope you all are doing well and conquering! May your “WHAT THE FUCK IS IT THIS TIME?” playlist grow with power ballads, may your heating pad never fail, and may we all appreciate the following picture my son made when I asked him to draw his “big feelings” a few years ago. I think we can all relate.
Lots of love & chaos,
Halo
Loved this Halo! We may all be dumpster fires, but our dumpster fires BURN BLOODY BRIGHT DAMMIT!! Wait, is that a good thing? Did someone throw petrol on our dumpster fires?
Interesting blog. It's nice to know that despite years and distance separate us that I am not All By Myself because Sometimes I feel so insecure.
Keep laughing, singing and smiling and Take A Load Off Your Mind.