Today's Mission: Renting Your Damns

Today's mission, should you choose to accept it: choose one item from your "things to feel guilty about" list and cross it off. Delete it. You are all done beating yourself up about that thing. You are more than absolved. You are officially Not Sorry, and all the rest of those woulda-coulda-shouldas cluttering up your headspace had better watch their miserable sorry step.

"No, you can't!" the remaining guiltlings will cry, squealing in chorus like a pack of mewling mice. "You have to feel bad about us!"

"I no longer give a damn," you will say. "I rent them."

A Salute to the DFWWW

I haven't had time to do any kind of year-in-review post. I have less than no time to do anything at the moment. But I can't keep a lid on this part.

Whenever you work closely with someone, whenever you try something new (and ESPECIALLY when you are doing both in tandem), you are going to make some waves. And you are going to make some mistakes. I have inadvertently given some of my favorite people some really terrible heartburn over the past year. Realistically, it will probably happen again at some point. Synchronizing brain-waves and improving thoughtfulness-algorithms is a slow, trial-and-error process.
 
 

But I'm going to put it right here, today and in writing: DFW Writers' Workshop is my light, my heart, and my rocket-fueled reason for professional being. They are the bar-none best critique culture I've ever seen, and the ONLY reason any of the rest of the world gives even half of a rip about me or my work. Anything you like about me or what I do, I learned or perfected there. And when I get in trouble, it is usually because I am giving away DFWWW awesomesauce faster than we can make it.
So if you're a writer in DFW and you need a posse to help you go the distance - my god, have I got a deal for you. (It is right over here - http://www.dfwwritersworkshop.org/ - and I will proselytize on request. WITNESS ME.)

Better yet, witness THEM.

And to all my DFWWW posse, with double helpings for Brooke and Brian and Stephen and everybody else who's giving up their own writing time to keep the workshop working: thank you for firing me up, showing me off, and keeping me from burning the place down in my incandescent enthusiasm. I write by your light, and will do my best to serve you with mine.

Three Random Wishes

Three random wishes for a random Tuesday:

1. I wish I could make a living just helping out. Not selling services or whatever. I would just go and help the old lady clean out her garage, or spend an afternoon helping somebody fix up their first chapter, and rent would pay itself.*

2. I wish I had a manager. Somebody to do all the arranging and setup and coordinating and promoting, so I could spend my time actually doing the thing that I am actually good at.*

3. I wish I didn't like sugar.

*I think this is a huge part of the attraction of roleplaying games, by the way - Everquest and Warcraft and whatever the kids are playing now. We want so badly to live in a world that wants & rewards the things we're good at.

The GPALPBBFA2016 - Redux!

It happened, y'all. And it can never be undone.

Sharing the Work

Y'all. Realness. It is 9:15AM on January 1st, and I am used UP. I've had about twelve hours of sleep in the past three days, I'm still all raw and leaky from going serotonin supersaiyan yesterday, and there is a toxic, pit-of-my-stomach sickening amount of work waiting for me. I seriously do not know how it is all going to get done.

But if you are like me, and if today feels less like a fresh start than a really messy middle - take heart, y'all. Have courage, and some protein. Today is traditionally about resolving to do things better and differently, to make positive changes – but maybe it would also be healthy to make it a day of forgiving yourself and letting go of some old ambitions that don't fit right now.
Maybe you are not the person who will sit down and make that perfect Pinterest-worthy scrapbook of family memories. Wouldn't it feel good to put that project back in the water and let it float on downstream - give someone else a chance to find it and pick it up? Would it be enough to keep on taking the pictures, without feeling obliged to curate and arrange them?

Maybe you are not currently in a place to start a fantastic new eating plan and take up a gym habit, even though you really want to capture the traditional New Year's momentum to start getting down to a healthy weight. Would it be okay to return that vision to the ocean of possibilities and be ready to receive it again when it washes back up on shore? Is there a smaller, more sustainable way you can start doing a daily kindness for your body in the meantime?

Donald Maass said a really excellent thing at the Writer Unboxed conference I attended in November. It was the morning after the election, and a lot of us were feeling terribly raw and anxious. He said, "We have work to do – all of us. And we will do that work."

I've thought about that a lot in the past two months. And to me the operative word is "we". Sometimes it feels like we are stuffing our shirts with these work-stones, these task-eggs, until we're so overfull that two fall out for every one we bend over to pick up. We are the first and often only person we delegate to. We see a thing that needs to be done and automatically stoop to undertake it, without necessarily asking whether we are really the best person for the job. We take so much on ourselves, because we either don't trust or can't bring ourselves to impose upon the people around us. We hoard the eggs until they rot, not trusting our fellow-humans to keep from trampling them otherwise.

And I think we would be a whole lot happier if we got better at choosing and sorting our eggs. Some to keep and incubate ourselves - some to give away or trade with a neighbor - some to put back down on the ground and walk away from, trusting their place in the order of creation.

So before I load my nest with one more "I really seriously have to", I hereby resolve to ask:
1. Is this really, objectively a thing that needs to be done? Who will be hurt if it isn't done?
2. Am I the best person to do it? Who is better-equipped to tackle this?
3. Do I need to do it right now? What is the consequence if I put this away and re-examine it next week, next month, next year?

I would really like to get better at answering those questions - because if I weren't so busy trying to keep my own eggs from dropping or spoiling, I would have more time to help other people hatch theirs. That would free them up to help me and others too. We might expend just as much effort as we did before - but we could do it so much more joyfully. We could enjoy each other's company during the work we do together, and relish the special tasks we dive into alone.

The man is right, y'all. We have WORK to do. But more importantly, WE have work to do.

So if you've got as dauntingly long a row to hoe as we do, please make it your resolution to speak up: a mule and a plow can do wonderful things together – but first you have to get them the same side of the fence.

A Dream Realized

Ah, friendly friends. Today is a strange kind of book-birthday. Amazon is apparently out of stock, and there's no resolution for that while both the publisher and the distributor are closed for the holidays. (My author-copies are similarly AWOL, or I would offer up something from that supply.) There is no fanfare on the blogosphere, because holidays, but also because I have been behind on writing guest blogs. At this rate, we may or may not have copies for the party on Saturday - it is in the gods' hands now.

But you know what? It is still a really, really good book-birthday. Dreams of the Eaten is still a damn fine book, given life and shape by damn fine people. My Twitter feed is blowing up with love from all quarters. Saturday is going to be a baller time, no matter what. And more than that... like, today marks the day when the end of the story is officially made real. You can download the e-book right now and put it in your face (and I would love it if you did!) And that can't be undone. It is safe. It exists. Even if the physical copies all get burned up in a warehouse fire. Even if the book tanks and goes out of print. Finally, after 17 years, the whole entire story is written and made available to the world, and if I get hit by a bus today, there will still be a piece of me out there living its own little life - complete and unkillable - and I will have paid my Earthly rent.

I am so proud of this book, y'all - this series, this story-world. And while I reserve the right to collapse back into fits of author-angst the next time I get a shitty depressing royalty statement, please feel free to remind me that I wrote every word of this post and meant it. And that I would never have had such wonderful problems without first having such wonderful people.

Thanks for seeing me through, y'all. It wouldn't mean a thing without you.

ANNOUNCING: The Great Pre-Apocalyptic New Year's Eve Launch Party, Book Bazaar, and Fruitcake Amnesty of 2016!

Y'all. It is only seven days - one magical, fleeting week - until Dreams of the Eaten takes flight into the world. And it is no good having a book launch without a book launch party!

Click to embiggen!

It's going to be a barnstormer of a time, y'all. We got a book-swap table, where you can swap out your old books and pick up some new ones. We got a goodie gulag, where you can bring your leftover holiday treats (and snack on other people's) before you start that Jan 1 diet. (And yes, I'm giving a special prize for the most egregious fruitcake. Give me your worst. I ain't scared.) Most excitingly, we have suckered sweet-talked no less than FIFTEEN local authors into coming out to showcase their freshest, finest work. If you don't leave this party with a full belly and an even fuller bookbag, I will eat my hat.

SO. We're throwing down at the South Irving Public Library. The party starts at 11AM on Saturday, December 31st. Bring your unwanted books, leftover sweets, and all your favorite friends - and be sure to RSVP on Facebook or the official events page  so we can fete and feed you in fine style. Be there or be missed!

Stealing Fire: An Ask, and an Offer

EDIT: The DFW Writers Workshop is currently reviewing funding for its programs. The Writers Bloc will continue uninterrupted, but this Patreon drive is on hold for now. (I'm leaving the post up, because I'm proud of it.)

Thanksgiven

Y'know, back when my grandparents were living, we made the four-hour drive to Houston to visit them for all the big holidays. I have vivid memories of Game Boys and apple-juice boxes in the backseat, and waving to the big statue of Sam Houston as we passed, and a dog or two that always woke up and whined whenever we got off the freeway.

But I also remember Mom and Dad explaining that there were some things we talked about at home that we weren't going to talk about in Houston, because it would upset Nana and Pawpaw. I'm sure my sister and I messed that up a few times, but overall it was the most natural thing, the understanding we had through our whole lives: our parents were liberal, and our grandparents were conservative, and that meant that there were some things we wouldn't agree on. It never kept us from playing gin rummy or making flapjacks or watching Nana cry when we played Leontyne Price's "O Holy Night" on Christmas Eve. (EVERY time, y'all. Every time.)

It was only later, as a teenager, that I realized that what our family did was not universal - that lots of families couldn't enjoy each other's company at all - and only MUCH later, as an adult, that I realized that there were legitimate reasons for that - that some people just can not control their emotions or behavior, and are not safe to be around. So I will never question or criticize anyone who chooses not to visit their family.

But y'all - this year, of all years, I am more grateful than ever that our parents went the extra mile to make sure we did not miss out on having grandparents. I am so, so glad that they made sure we spoke thoughtfulness as a first language. And for all you guys who are doing that same work this weekend - choosing your words carefully, focusing on the things you CAN do and discuss together, taking care to make the time enjoyable for everyone at the table - you have my deepest appreciation. We need you now, maybe more than ever before. And the values you're living right now will last longer and reach farther than you know.

The Edge

This is a crosspost of the newsletter that I write for my friend Kristen.

You know, it’s funny what travelling does to you. You understand intellectually that there are billions of people in the world and no two exactly alike – and yet it’s not until you actually walk in to the Super 8 motel on the south side of Toledo and actually meet the young man behind the counter that he stops being a hypothetical person and becomes Justin W., your bespectacled, soft-bodied, keycard-programming fellow human. He’s still a stranger, but now you have to save him if there’s a fire.

Kristen and I thought about what we would like to say in this newsletter. It’s the last one before the US election, which absolutely everyone is sick of. So we would like to have a different kind of discourse here.

You know that we have strong feelings about the failures of the workers’ compensation system here in Texas. That large businesses and insurance companies have used the Texas legislature to sew up the system so tightly that it’s almost impossible for wounded workers to access fair treatment and compensation. You can probably guess that that pits us firmly against our state’s status quo.

Unfortunately, we have to vote on candidates, not individual issues – and this is far from the only issue on the table.

So let’s step back and picture the table itself for a minute.

It’s big and round, glass-bottomed, and there are a bunch of little people on it. All of them can look down through the glass and see how awful it would be to fall off, what a long drop there is between them and the floor – but some of them are closer to the edge than others. Some are so close that one jostle, one bump, will push them right over.

That’s not so bad, most of the time. There’s enough room for all of them, and for the most part they can be neighborly. But sometimes the table gets bumped by a huge unseen thing far below, and that scares everyone. They push and shove to get closer to the center of the table, where it’s safe – and the people in the center start pushing back.

The bump was bad, but the fighting that follows it is tremendously worse. Everyone is so focused on who does or doesn’t deserve to be in the center that they stop looking outward. They don’t notice the people who are getting pushed off the edge in the chaos, maliciously or by accident. People fall off, and they aren’t missed. Nobody ever saw them slip. (This is something Kristen frequently remarks on. “Before my injury, I had no idea that this could happen to people. I had no idea that the system had gotten so bad.”)

And what’s really unfortunate is that most of it is preventable. Bumps will always happen. Some tablefolk will always be closer to the center than others. But if they stopped pushing and started pulling – if every one of them took hold of just one person who was dangerously close to the edge – it would be so much harder for anyone to fall... and downright impossible for it to happen unnoticed.

So that is our wish for you, our fellow denizens of Floorland. We are bigger than the Tabletopians. We can make better choices. And even though our media urges our attention relentlessly toward the center – to the politicians, athletes, celebrities, and headline-writers who live and die according to our attention span – it is our moral imperative to look back to the edge. Look to the edge, where we have always found the best in ourselves. Look to the edge, where everything truly exceptional about our country was born. Vote with one hand, and give the other to someone who’s standing at the brink of the abyss, and you will never wonder whether you made the right choice – because you will have chosen more than yourself.

-Tex

P.S. If you're wondering who this Kristen person is, start here.