TL;DR: It was a pretty good year, but I’m sad anyway.

Looking back at other Resolute posts, I’ve determined that, like birthdays, new years are not good for me. I assign too much significance to the passing of the guard, to what the transitions portend, when they portend nothing.

If I saw a cockroach in the tub, it’s an unpleasant surprise, but it’s not a harbinger of infestations to come. If I missed a writing deadline by thirty minutes because I didn’t check the time zone, that’s unfortunate and eminently disappointing, but it’s not a prophecy of missed deadlines and dropping sub call balls to come. I know this intellectually, but emotionally, these transitions weigh heavy on my already heavy frame.

Last year’s Resolute had me hopeless because I was quitting a job that had become problematic for me (loved my coworkers, but the job itself was hurting me). This year, I’m at the end of a writing sabbatical, which was a much more peaceful year, and I’m the same kind of hopeless, which suggests my own personal form of holiday blues, because it was a nice year. I could work for myself, work my way, work my time, in a way that was most effective for me. I worked almost seven days a week, achieving goal word counts in bursts of ideal productivity times throughout the day, and that was good for me. I could carry my work with me, which meant that I could join my parents in visiting my brother, sister-in-law, my now three-year-old niece, and my now six-month-old nephew, who arrived summer of this year. My niblings very much bring me back to my brother and me when we were young, and it’s delightful to watch them grow up and anticipate what they’ll become. I had a lot more flexibility to travel and spend more time with family at our home and theirs. Also, because of the leg injury in June that left me considerably unhealthier than the beginning of the year, I had even more time and flexibility on my hands than usual.

I got a lot done, but I can’t say that the financial income has matched the output, which was disappointing. I’ve been doing this for years now, and I understand that most writing work is done on spec, and as a result, income is unpredictable and gains can come years later or not at all. Long works, in particular, take time to write, to edit, to query, and to publish, and then it’s still no guarantee. However, I went from spotty part-time writing to intensive full-time writing, and though last year I made just over $1000, this year I only made just over $1200, and in neither case did I make a profit, due to self-publishing costs.

I share the financial information because people tend to have a distorted idea of what writers make. By output, I’m doing wonderfully. By publishing, I’m emerging. By income, I’ve yet to escape the red since I started self-publishing back in…2014? This may change, with a greater push toward traditional publishing in the years to come, but there’s no guarantee.

A while back, discouraged, I asked myself whether, if I never made another cent, I’d stop writing. The answer is no. I do this because it’s what my brain was made for. I’ve been telling myself stories since childhood, and I sleep much better when I let the stories out. Without traditional publication, I’ll still self-publish as financially able, because I enjoy it.

I can’t support myself with my writing at this juncture, though, which means I have to forage for productive writing hours when I can while renting out my body, mind, and time to someone else once more, because I’ve exhausted the extra savings that I was extremely privileged to have. I’d hoped that writing income would mitigate some of that, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and I had to pay my medical expenses out of pocket.

I don’t know what the new year will bring, but once I finish the next Meridian novel, I’ll venture out into the unknown, and I historically don’t like not knowing what’s around the corner. It unsettles me, steals the foundation from under my feet, and I tend not to believe in my competence, even though I objectively know that I’m an intelligent and capable person. I guess we’ll just have to see what the new year brings in that respect.

As for the old year, I have stats. Collecting stats is like counting change when I was a kid. It’s satisfying.

Because of the writing sabbatical, it was a big year for me in terms of production and publication. I’d planned for more long-form writing, and I did do some good long-form, but I ended up working more on short-form than anticipated.

I wrote 55 short stories ranging from microfiction to novelette and so averaging at roughly short-story size (I’m counting one I started yesterday and plan to finish today or tomorrow). I wrote three Meridian novels for my other name and three standalone novels: Question Not My Salt (extreme horror), A Woman Alone (erotic horror), and In the Dollhouse We All Wait (extreme horror). I compiled the Bathroom Omens short story/poetry collection, most of which was written specifically for the collection rather than other publications. I also wrote poetry almost every day, some of which has been compiled into the full collection Dead Ends and the chapbook What Witchcraft We Wrought, which I might expand into a full collection.

In the publication arena, as of the end of the year, I sent out a total of 208 submissions (long and short). I received 170 rejections and 26 acceptances (7 unpaid, 4 at pro-rate). There are 28 still on sub waiting for a response. Based on my previous stats and those of other writers who share theirs, 10% acceptance rate isn’t unusual or bad at all. I got really close on some publications, with stories on the short lists and even final rounds. By that point, it’s usually a matter of curation rather than quality, which is why you can’t take rejection personally. Sometimes I get down about a rejection, but I usually just give myself thirty minutes to be upset and send out the rejected piece or another piece to make myself feel better.

Published Novels/Collections:

Dead Ends: A Dark Poetry Collection
Fever & Fray (Meridian Book 2) (other name)
Out of Curiosity and Hunger
Puppeteer (Thorns 4)

Published Poetry:

“Desire,” The Vampiricon, Mind’s Eye Publications, January 31, 2023
“Sacristy,” Crow Calls: Volume 5, Quill & Crow Publishing House, February 14, 2023
“Comorbid,” Crow Calls: Volume 5, Quill & Crow Publishing House, February 14, 2023
“Displaced,” Dear Human at the Edge of Time, Paloma Press, September 27, 2023
“A Woman Possessed,” Under Her Eye: A Women in Horror Poetry Showcase, Black Spot Press, November 7, 2023

Published Short Stories:

“The Warmth of Many Skins,” Bleak Midwinter: Solstice Light, Quill & Crow Publishing House, January 17, 2023
“Courtship,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, February 2023 issue
“Dissolution,” Ooze, Ruth Anna Evans, March 1, 2023
“Blood Mother,” The Sacrament, DarkLit Press, March 2, 2023
“The Cut,” Shallow Waters Flash Fiction 1st place winner, Crystal Lake Publishing, March 30, 2023
“Blackberry Wine,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, April 2023 issue
“Show Me,” Bound in Flesh, Ghoulish Books, April 18, 2023
“Eat His Heart,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, June 2023 issues
“The Thing That Crawls,” Unspeakable Horror 3: Dark Rainbow Rising, Crystal Lake Publishing, June 30, 2023
“A Bladder Full,” Shallow Waters Flash Fiction 3rd place winner, Crystal Lake Publishing, July 5, 2023
“Drip,” That Old House: The Bathroom, Voices of the Mausoleum, July 28, 2023
“Birth,” Deadly Drabble Tuesdays, Hungry Shadows Press, August 1, 2023
“A Bug in the Design,” Shallow Waters Flash Fiction finalist, Crystal Lake Publishing, August 17, 2023
“The Cut,” Shallow Waters Vol. 9: A Flash Fiction Anthology, Crystal Lake Publishing, August 17, 2023 (reprint)
“The Plank in Thine Own,” The Devil Take You, Sentinel Creatives, August 21, 2023
“Of the Many Faces,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, September 1, 2023
“The Cut,” Shallow Waters: Horror Flash Fiction Anthology, Crystal Lake Publishing, September 29, 2023 (reprint, paperback)
“The Last Ride of Sutton Purnell,” Flame Tree Fiction, October 4, 2023
“Sight Unseen,” Novus Monstrum, Dragon’s Roost Press, October 6, 2023
“Arms Race,” Shallow Waters Flash Fiction finalist, Crystal Lake Publishing, October 11, 2023
“Caregiver,” The Book of Queer Saints Volume II, Medusa Publishing Haus, October 31, 2023
“Swallowed,” Shallow Waters Flash Fiction finalist, Crystal Lake Entertainment, November 8, 2023
“Footprints,” The Other Stories podcast, November 20, 2023
“The Behavioral Patterns of the Displaced Siberian Siren,” Dead Letters: Episodes of Epistolary Horror, Crystal Lake Publishing, December 1, 2023
“The Sisters of Our Perpetual Wounds,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, December 1, 2023
“The Green Room,” Shallow Waters Flash Fiction finalist, Crystal Lake Entertainment, December 20, 2023

In the year to come…

Question Not My Salt is my first novel under this name being traditionally published, through small press Crystal Lake extreme horror imprint Torrid Waters. In addition, Strange & Familiar (Meridian 3) under my other name comes out this month, and Avarice & Creed (Meridian 4) is presently set to come out in October.

As far as self-publishing goes, I want to try to do more traditional and small-press indie publishing, if just to have money coming in rather than going out, but I don’t want to phase self-publishing out completely. I’m scheduled to put Crooked House (Thorns 5) out in May and poetry collection A Nightmare for All Seasons in September.

I have some of what I’ve written last year to edit, but I also want to revisit my super-secret UA story and determine how to write the next one or two books. I have two standalone novels I want to strike off my list early in the year so I can have a few more trunk stories ready to turn and shop around (although one might end up self-published).

I’m already set to write the next Meridian novel this month, and now that I’ve decided to merge two novel concepts, I’ll only have one more Meridian novel left to write. That will be for 2024’s NaNoWriMo. I also want to write the next Thorns novel, Hearts and Heads. I anticipate writing some short stories for calls and flash fiction contests, but not as much as last year. If I still have time between writing and editing what I’ve already delineated, I have the option of working on one of three standalones on my list for the 2024 year, but it seems unlikely.

Here’s hoping I find a soft place to land, but I just don’t know. I’m beginning to think most people don’t get that, and I already have enough of other soft places. Maybe asking for more is asking too much.