A More Serious Note

          I know, I know. Half of these posts start with me apologizing for being away for so long and end with me promising not to do it again, just before I promptly go off and do it again. But you might’ve noticed that this has been the longest hiatus yet, and there’s a reason for it I like to think is pretty decent.

          As you may have noticed, the world has pretty much gone to shit, and back in March, when things really started going to shit for us here in America (especially in places like New Jersey, the realm of the Mad King Phil Murphy, the First of His Name, my current reluctant location), my local library was among one of the countless “nonessential” businesses that were closed down to help “flatten the curve.” I might’ve mentioned this before, but for those of you who don’t know I don’t have internet at home: Almost a decade of chronic health issues and all the related problems they’ve raised have kept me from the kind of steady and/or well-earning work that would’ve allowed me to afford it for myself, while at the same time I and my family don't qualify for any of the low-income internet deals currently on offer, and so I’ve depended almost exclusively on my local library for access. Thanks to them, I was able to send submissions and receive and return contracts, type up my stories, poems, and novels and get them formatted and submitted, and, of course, research whatever might need to be researched for my newest projects. In short, I was basically running my entire freelance writing career out of the tech center in my local library, which wasn’t ideal as I took on more and more work, but at least kept things running somewhat manageably.

          And then all hell broke loose, the world ground to a screeching halt, and the day before St. Patrick’s Day I got a call from Abby, who does exist, and who happens to work there, delivering the news that I’d been expecting and dreading for some time: The library had shut down.

          After my initial breakdown (the most recent of many throughout my life and the first of many over the last several months) and once I wrapped up that first panic attack, the wheels in my head slowly got back to turning, and I worked out a plan—once again, not an ideal one, but hey, the day things actually work out well for me is the day I’ll drop dead of shock. 

          I had an old Vaio laptop in my room that Abby, who does exist, gave me when she started college and got a new one. I’d used it for a while to type up my projects and to snatch whatever bits of WiFi I could, but then I’d started going to the library more regularly and this purple laptop (which I’d named Margaret, since I happen to be a M*A*S*H fanatic and had just gotten heavily into it around then; I’m proud to say I got Abby into the show as well) had sat patiently tucked away in her bag in my room gathering dust. Now, like all great old action heroes, times had become desperate enough for her to come out of retirement to kick some ass. Kind of like Last Blood, if Rambo had had to submit some poems and short stories in between wiping out cartel scumbags.

          I dug her out, booted her up, (saying hello to my classic S.W.A.T screensaver as I did—I’m a fanatic for that, too, and yes, I also got Abby into it) and found that, while some of it was a bit out of date—and wincing at some of the old projects I’d saved on her and once thought would catapult me to literary superstardom—she still worked for what I had to do. I had a couple flash drives on hand, from both Abby and my other best friend Iryna, who I’m pretty sure exists, and so I would type whatever I was working on or whatever I had to submit for a particular call on Margaret, save it to the flash drive, and walk across town to Abby’s house once a week or every couple of weeks, depending on the deadlines I was dealing with, to send it out on her computer, Kellye.

          Like I said, not an ideal system (not being able to research much, besides what I saved to the flash drives on Kellye when I was over Abby’s and brought home to read over on Margaret, really put me in a bind, since I was close to beginning new projects when all of this started to go down), but it was better than nothing, which is what I first had in the initial moments after the phone call sent me into screaming fits of panic. As time went on, I wound up going over to an aunt’s house every week or so as well to use her WiFi, which also helped ease the load a bit—though it also caused me massive anxiety attacks as well, as Margaret, being an older computer, struggles to handle the internet sometimes and has developed a terrifying tendency to shut down all on her own, whether I’m using Google Chrome or Microsoft Word, as her battery slowly but surely degenerates. My situation being what it is, I’m saving up to get a new laptop, but my situation being what it is, I’m not able to save up very much very fast, and that limits the kind of laptop I’ll be able to afford if something doesn’t change for the better soon (ie, a sudden localized rain shower of crisp new hundred dollar bills).

          So as you might imagine, posting here about my ideas for a Boondock Saints sequel, the novel I’m currently (hopefully) close to finishing, or even elaborating on the new acceptances I’ve gotten and where my work will be appearing next, has fallen lower on the totem pole of “Things To Do When I Next Have Access To The Internet” than, say, sending new submissions out, looking up more potential publishers and into the possibility of self-publishing, and doing research. I have, however, done my best to keep the Hall of Shameless Self-Promotion as updated as possible so that anyone who’s interested can find all my work, older and more recent, and I will continue to keep that up as long as I can as this shutdown drags on and on; I’ve also been relatively decent at posting quick updates on my Twitter account @moodilymusing, so you can look there as well. I’ve missed posting here; believe me, there’s plenty of things, both related to my writing and not, that I’ve wanted so badly to talk/ramble/rant about, and hopefully now that I’ve fallen into a bit of a routine and steered this floundering ship into somewhat-calmer seas I’ll be able to, but honestly, I can’t promise, and I hope you’ll understand that, if anyone’s actually reading this.

          I know this crisis hasn’t been easy on anybody, except for the politicians and A-list celebrities who urge us to stop working and stay home in videos shot in the entrance halls of their million-dollar-and-more mansions, and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend it’s been harder on me than other people, so anybody who was about to drop a comment below this post ranting about my “privilege” is cordially invited to x out of this page and go harass some poor unsuspecting guy on social media who posted a pic of a sunset or something, okay? But it’s still been fucking hard, for the reasons discussed above and reasons you know nothing about, and since collective sanity doesn’t seem to be coming back any time soon, it’s gonna stay fucking hard, and not in any kind of fun way. I’m doing the best I can, just like so many other people who have been affected in various terrible ways by this situation, and I have no platitudes no offer, no gooey “we’re all in this together” pep talks to shove down your throats. All I can say is all I’ve already said: This is why I haven’t been here, I will do as much as I can when I can, and all the while I’ll be wishing I could do more. Check the Hall and my Twitter for any updates I have to offer, and Margaret and I hope to see you back here on the main pages soon. Until then, goodbye (but not “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen.” Not yet, anyway.).