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On the good side, I finished a short story, the first thing I've finished other than a flash and some poems, since last year's hospitalizations and physical struggles.
And it's wonderful that a new edition of Substrate Phantoms is coming out, and I'm working on the sequel...
But lord I feel so tired and pointless. The publishing world and and the reviewing strata do not love or celebrate my work; no awards, little support on social media, I just feel...tired and unappreciated and, yeah, pointless.
I know it's a matter of perspective, and also that this is depression...the ongoing medical shite of my life with systemic sclerosis with lung and GI involvement and messed up hands is, well, a lot. Exhausting. It would be nice if there were more wins and celebration for the writing, I guess, is what I feel.
I'm just so tired, y'all.
And it's wonderful that a new edition of Substrate Phantoms is coming out, and I'm working on the sequel...
But lord I feel so tired and pointless. The publishing world and and the reviewing strata do not love or celebrate my work; no awards, little support on social media, I just feel...tired and unappreciated and, yeah, pointless.
I know it's a matter of perspective, and also that this is depression...the ongoing medical shite of my life with systemic sclerosis with lung and GI involvement and messed up hands is, well, a lot. Exhausting. It would be nice if there were more wins and celebration for the writing, I guess, is what I feel.
I'm just so tired, y'all.
