Thanks to the generosity and support of my Patreons, I’m launching my first serial fiction.
This isn’t Hamilton fanfic. This is what happens when there is Hamilton fanfic in a world where ghosts gain or lose power based solely on “how well and widely they are remembered”, and takes place in that oddly physical limbo between life and whatever comes next as seen in A Girl and Her Fed.
I’ve had this post in the queue for several months.* It’s one of those posts that I’ve needed to write, but haven’t wanted to write, and… Well, here’s the thing: I can be dumb, and insensitive, and I write from my own life’s perspective (which has been pretty darned good). Since I’m a writer, sometimes there are elements in my projects that can be dumb, or insensitive, or come from my own life’s perspective (which sometimes ignores that other peoples’ lives have not been pretty darned good).
Okay. Computer is no longer Dead, and is actually working Quite Wonderfully, and I’m using this as an opportunity to get rid of Old Nonsense. Did you realize I still had an AIM account? You didn’t? Because nobody has had one of those since the late 90s? WELL I NEVER (bothered to update).
Last Wednesday, I returned from running errands, uncrated the dogs, and went to go make myself some tea. I didn’t even pay conscious attention to the dogs as I did this (“Good boys, who are my good boys? Who smells like boxfarts? You smell like boxfarts!”). Shima the Puppy followed me to the kitchen, like usual. Zu the Dog…didn’t.
It’s got a title! It’s got cover art!
Is it done? Oh no. No, it is not.
Write a blog post.
Quiet, brain, I’m working.
Write a blog post!
Working. Hush. I’ll give you cookies.
Write a blog post or I’ll remind you about this thing you did when you were eight.
Fine. Okay. Right. Let’s organize the work schedule for the next few months, shall we?
Finished my first convention in…three years? Four? It went very well, except for the parts when it didn’t, such as when I totally swore at one of my childhood heroes.