Maya Fisher's Blog, page 3

They Could’ve Just Asked Me

It’s been 31 months since any of them have spoken to me. Christmas Day, 2022. 
 
No texts. No calls. No apologies. No love.   
Just silence. 
 
It’s been even longer since they’ve seen me in person. Not a single one of them, aside from my youngest sister, has seen me—really seen me—since I came out publicly as a transgender woman on September 18th, 2020. And even she abandoned me.
 
They’ve never sat across from me as I am.   
They’ve never hugged me, or smiled at me, or said my name out loud since I transitioned.   
All they’ve seen are pictures, filtered through secondhand screens or social media algorithms. 
 
They don’t see me as a woman.   
Not as a daughter.   
Not as a sister. 
 
They see only what they want to see: a ghost of someone they used to know.   
Someone who no longer exists. 
 
And yet, this weekend, I found out that one of my estranged sisters bought the Kindle version of my book, Reborn In Shadows: From The Ashes. 
 
She never reached out. Never said a word.   
Just bought it. Started reading it. And started asking questions—not to me, but to my daughter. 
 
One of those questions?   
“Does the main character kill her stepfather?” 
 
They’re treating my story like it’s a crime scene, like they’re detectives searching for clues.   
But they don’t want understanding. They want confirmation bias.   
They want to gossip. To speculate. To paint their own picture of who I am without ever looking me in the eye. 
 
They could’ve just asked me. 
 
They could’ve called. Messaged. Showed up with humility. 
 
But instead, they’re sneaking around the perimeter of my life, unwilling to step through the front door.   
And worse, they’re putting my daughter in the crossfire—cornering her with questions that were never hers to carry. 
 
This is not what family does. 
 
I grew up in Dickenson County, Virginia, in a town where everyone knew your business before you finished conducting it. My stepfather and mother ran an auto-body shop together. I was known back then—loud, clever, always hustling, always cracking jokes, always hiding something. 
 
That something was me. 
 
I carried the truth like a splinter under the skin. And now that I’ve finally pulled it free—now that I live openly as myself—they’ve turned their backs. 
 
But the world didn’t. 
 
Reborn In Shadows is now in the Library of Congress. It was named Best LGBTQIA Fiction in the 2025 National Indie Excellence Awards. Strangers across the country have embraced this story. They’ve embraced me. Literally and figuratively.   
And they’ve told me something I never heard from my own blood:   
“I see you. And I’m glad you exist.” 
 
I’m a trans woman, a queer amputee, a parent, and an author.   
I am not ashamed. I am not broken. I am not alone. 
 
So to those who turned their backs on me—   
If you want to know who I am, ask me.   
If you want to understand my story, read the book.   
But don’t interrogate my daughter. Don’t lurk. Don’t whisper. 
 
It takes courage to repair what you broke.   
It takes love to see someone fully. 
 
Until then, I will keep moving forward.   
I will keep protecting my peace.   
And I will keep living—boldly, loudly, beautifully—as the woman I was always meant to be. 
 
—Maya Fisher 

Behind the Book Festival: A Long Day, A Full Heart

We got up at 5:00 a.m.
We pulled out of the driveway at 7:34 a.m.
We arrived at the Fort Henry Mall by 9:30 a.m. to set up for an 8-hour event that stretched me to my physical and emotional edge in the best possible way.

Misty and I walked back through our door at 7:29 p.m.—a 14-hour day, and I feel every minute of it in my bones. But it was worth it.

Today, I participated in the Behind the Book Festival as both a vendor and a panelist on the Genre Fiction discussion. And let me be blunt: I was nervous. This was new territory. I'm still figuring this whole author thing out.

When they asked what made me choose my genre, I gave them the honest answer—I didn’t.
I don’t write with a checklist of tropes or follow any genre formula. I don’t even fully know all the terms people throw around in author circles. I don’t write to fit into a box.

I write because I have to.

I write what claws its way out of me, what burns in my chest and refuses to leave me alone. I live the story first. I figure out how to label it later.

The panel was asked what advice we’d give to a writer trying to break into genre fiction.
Here’s what I said:

Just start.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what you’re doing.
I didn’t.
I didn’t think I was capable.
But I started anyway. I made a thousand mistakes and kept going. I didn’t follow the “rules.” I didn’t know the roadmap. I wrote a story that mattered to me and I saw it through to the end.

And somehow, in 2025, despite being a total newbie without a clue about the “proper” path, I did it.
My book is now in the Library of Congress.
It was named Best LGBTQIA+ Fiction in the 2025 National Indie Excellence Awards.

So no—don’t listen to anyone who tells you you can’t do it.
You can.

You just have to begin. Whether it’s messy, awkward, terrifying—it still counts. You’ll find your footing along the way.

Today, I watched readers from the LGBTQIA+ community stop at my table and grab my book with excitement in their eyes. One of them told me, “Stories like yours need to be heard—especially now.”

That’s why I keep doing this.

That’s why I push through the exhaustion. Why I sit on panels even when I feel like the odd one out. Why I share my truth, even when it's vulnerable.

Because representation matters. Because our stories deserve the same spotlight. Because queer lives aren’t a subgenre—they’re real, and they deserve to be front and center.

Thank you to everyone who showed up today—to buy a book, to ask a question, or just to say “I see you.”
Thank you to the ones who said, “This story feels like mine.”

You reminded me why this work matters. And you reminded me that I belong here—exactly as I am.

With love, with fire, and with unrelenting truth,
—Maya

Why We Still Need Pride—Especially in Small Towns

Today didn’t go the way I planned. I showed up for the first-ever Wise Pride in Wise County, Virginia, ready to represent my work, my identity, my voice—and it ended up being a hard day. It was hot. It was slow. Passersby yelled slurs. Some people honked their horns to show support. I suffered from heat exhaustion and had to fight through waves of dizziness just to stay upright. I had to sit down when I wanted to stand tall.

But I don’t regret being there. Because this is exactly why Pride still matters—especially in small towns.

It matters for the compassionate friends, and strangers alike, who brought me ice and water, checked on me without hesitation, and offered me comfort in small but powerful ways. Kindness like that shines brightest when everything else feels dim.

It matters for the young queer woman—maybe 20 years old—who stopped in her tracks when she saw the cover of Reborn In Shadows. Her eyes widened and her face lit up. She pointed to the main character, Miriam Ryder—a below-the-knee amputee and a trans woman—and her eyes seemed to say, “That’s me.” And it was. It is. That’s what representation looks like. That’s what it does. That’s part of why I wrote this book.

It matters for the woman who moved here from a larger city years ago and still feels the sting of culture shock. Who told me that hearing about Miriam's struggles adjusting to life in Jasper Hill felt like hearing her own story. That quiet recognition? That’s a spark. That’s connection.

And it matters because even though the crowd was smaller than we hoped, we showed up. And in doing so, we sent a message:

We are not invisible.
We are not ashamed.
We are not going anywhere.

I saw bravery today. In the vendors who stood under the same blazing sun. In the attendees who smiled, laughed, and danced despite everything. In every person who chose to be visible in a town where it’s often safer not to be.

Pride isn’t just parades and celebration. Sometimes, it’s resilience. Sometimes, it’s a folding table under a tent in the heat. Sometimes, it’s a queer woman selling a book she wrote with shaking hands and a full heart.

Sometimes, Pride looks like survival.

And that’s why we need it—now more than ever.

—
If you were there, thank you. If you weren't, we still felt you. And if you’re reading this from a small town and wondering if you matter, if you’re seen, if your story is worth telling—
You do.
You are.
It is.

We’re not done yet.

✉️ Scammy Pitches I Didn't Fall For This Week

Episode 1: The Case of the Celtic Chronicles That Weren’t Mine

This week, I received a very sincere email from someone claiming to be a “Professional Book Specialist” (because “editor” or “marketer” just doesn’t seduce, apparently). Here’s a taste:

“Hello JF, I recently discovered The Fianna Chronicles: Awakening and I was struck by the richness of its Celtic-inspired world, lyrical tone, and mythic resonance…”

Now, listen. That sounds lovely.
One problem:
I didn’t write that book.

In fact, I don’t even know a JF.
I’m Maya Fisher. And I wrote Reborn In Shadows: From The Ashes, an Appalachian romantic thriller about a trans amputee in witness protection. So unless we’re stretching “Celtic mythic resonance” to include chain-smoking and courtrooms… I think maybe Diane forgot to update her template.

But wait, it gets better.

She closed with this gem:

“I turn ‘meh’ pages into money pages... yes, even yours.”

Even mine? Ma’am. You didn’t even know they weren’t mine.

So here’s your friendly PSA:
If someone emails you gushing about your brilliant fantasy novel that you didn’t write, offering vague, mystical “optimization” services to “seduce readers” on Amazon…
🚨 It’s a mass-email scam. 🚨

They’re hoping you don’t notice it’s copy-paste bait. And they’re betting on your insecurity as an indie author to open your wallet.

But you’re smarter than that. And you probably didn’t name your publishing company One-Legged Woman Publishing LLC to be hustled by a “Story Hustler.”

Stay sharp out there, authors. Not all alchemists turn lead into gold—some just spin bullshit into invoices.

First Draft Complete: Reborn In Shadows – Through The Fire

I’m beyond excited (and slightly overwhelmed) to announce that the first draft of Reborn In Shadows: Through The Fire is officially complete.

✨ 60 chapters.
🖋️ 83,036 words.
🔥 Countless emotions.

This book has taken me—and these characters—through hell, healing, and everything in between. It continues the journey of Miriam and Ava with even higher stakes, deeper wounds, and brighter sparks of hope. We explore what it means to survive when safety is a moving target, and what it means to love when trust has to be earned again and again.

Now begins the equally intense part: editing.
The tightening. The refining. The late-night pacing and “what if I just rewrote this entire chapter?” kind of magic.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me during this wild ride—through book one, the launch, the readings, the festivals, and now into the heart of book two.

Stay tuned for sneak peeks, behind-the-scenes updates, and maybe a few tortured writer rants about comma placement. 😉

Let’s get this story ready for the world.
Because some fires don’t destroy—they forge.

With love,
Maya Fisher

I Found My People at the Queerest Family Reunion on the Planet

My first Pride event. My first community-wide book giveaway. And a day I’ll never forget.

This past Sunday, I had the absolute honor of attending what organizers lovingly called “the queerest family reunion on the planet.” And honestly? That’s exactly what it felt like.

Held at Breaks Interstate Park and hosted by the incredible grassroots collective Patchwork Kinfolx, Pride in the Park wasn’t just a celebration — it was a homecoming. A day-long gathering where joy, identity, and unapologetic Appalachian love took center stage.

And for someone like me — a 49-year-old transgender woman, below-the-knee amputee, and lifelong Dickenson County resident — it was nothing short of life-affirming.

Maya set up in her booth to hand out books.

The heat was brutal. I left with mild heat exhaustion, streaked makeup, and an aching body. But I also left with a full heart, new friends, and a deeper sense of community than I’ve ever felt in these hills. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

I came with a goal: to give away 50 signed paperback copies of my debut novel, Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes. It’s a romantic thriller that follows a trans woman and amputee trying to rebuild her life in a fictional Appalachian town not unlike my own.

Thanks to dozens of generous donors who sponsored copies in advance, I showed up with all 50 books — and by day’s end, more than 35 had found new homes.

People didn’t just take the books — they received them. One woman hugged hers tight and said, “I needed this.” A young queer person asked if the main character was “really like us.” Another said they’d never seen a story that looked like theirs before. That alone would’ve made it all worth it.

More Than Just a Giveaway

But Pride in the Park was never just about the books.

It was about finding each other.

It was about seeing Appalachian queerness in the flesh — multi-generational, multiracial, disabled, neurodivergent, joyful, grieving, beautiful. It was about music echoing through the trees while toddlers in rainbow outfits played in the grass. It was about queer elders in folding chairs nodding to the beat, about parents proudly walking beside their nonbinary kids, about artists and advocates and chosen family showing up — as they are, for who they love.

At one point, I stepped away from my table to catch a breeze and have a smoke. I watched a person with a homemade flag cape hug every attendee they passed. I saw a couple dance to live music without a trace of self-consciousness. I watched volunteers grill burgers and hot dogs and check on vendors like me to make sure we were staying hydrated.

And I thought: This is it. This is what they told us didn’t exist here. And we built it anyway.

This is Appalachian Pride

Pride in the Park may not have had big sponsors or polished parade floats. It didn’t need them.

This was Appalachian Pride. Hand-sewn, homegrown, and holy in its own way. There was a kind of sacredness to it — not religious, but spiritual. A sense that we were not only surviving here, but thriving, despite everything we’ve been told or denied.

I laughed with people I’d never met. I cried with one girl who told me my book made her feel seen. I met parents who said they finally felt like they weren’t navigating their child’s coming out alone. I gave away books, yes — but more importantly, I witnessed connection. Real, tangible, world-shifting connection.

To everyone who donated to help me be there — thank you. You helped me do more than give out books. You helped me give back to a community I once feared had no place for someone like me.

The Community Was Always Here

When the sun began to dip behind the trees and my last book was claimed, I packed up my table with reddened skin, a grateful heart, and the certainty that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

I had arrived as an author. But I left feeling like more — like a neighbor, a sister, a thread in the growing tapestry of queer Appalachia.

And as we drove home, the wind through the open windows cooling my face, I thought about something a high schooler had messaged me earlier that week: how brave they thought I was for staying.

I’m glad I stayed.

Because now I know: I’m not alone. I never was.

I was just waiting for the community to catch up. And me to it.

Turns out, they were already here — arms open, flags waving, ready to say:

Welcome home. 🏳️‍🌈

A Quiet Drop: The Official Trailer for Reborn in Shadows

Sometimes, the most powerful stories don’t need fanfare. They just need to be seen.

Without any countdowns, teasers, or loud declarations, I quietly released the official book trailer for Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes. Set to the hauntingly beautiful track “The Funeral” by Band of Horses, the trailer offers a visual heartbeat to the novel that has become so deeply intertwined with my own.

This isn't just a promo clip — it's a glimpse into Miriam’s journey. Her pain. Her resilience. Her rage. Her love. Every image in the trailer was carefully chosen to reflect key moments in the story: a new town that doesn't always welcome outsiders, friendships forged over coffee and scars, a community both cruel and kind, and a woman fighting like hell to reclaim her life.

This book has already been honored with inclusion in the Library of Congress and was recently named Best LGBTQIA Fiction in the 2025 National Indie Excellence Awards. But seeing parts of Miriam's world brought to life like this hit differently. It's raw. It's quiet. It’s real.

You can now watch the full trailer here.

Thank you to everyone who’s supported this journey. Whether you’ve read the book, left a review, shared a post, or simply cheered from afar — you’re part of this story too.

Warmly,
Maya Fisher
Author, Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes

Reborn in Shadows Is Now an Award-Winning Novel!

I’m thrilled — and honestly still a little in shock — to share some incredible news:
Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes has officially been named a Winner in the 19th Annual National Indie Excellence® Awards!

This honor means more to me than I can put into words. The NIEA celebrates excellence in independent publishing, and to have my debut novel recognized by a panel of judges who understand the passion and grit it takes to create a story like this… it’s overwhelming in the best way.

When I first set out to write Reborn in Shadows, it wasn’t about winning awards. It was about survival, about reclaiming my voice, and proving — to myself and the world — that stories like mine matter. That queer voices, trans voices, disabled voices, Appalachian voices, all deserve a place on bookshelves and in readers’ hearts.

This award is a validation of that truth. And it's proof that indie authors can create something powerful, moving, and worthy of celebration.

You can now find Reborn in Shadows listed on the official NIEA Winners page alongside some truly inspiring works. The listing includes my book cover, title, author details, and a link to my website — a proud moment for any author, but especially for someone who once believed her stories would never see the light of day.

What’s Next?

This is just the beginning. With Book Two (Through the Fire) in the works and more events on the horizon, I’m more inspired than ever to keep pushing forward — telling stories that challenge, uplift, and dare to dream of justice and joy.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who has supported me on this journey. Your belief in me, your messages, your reviews, and your encouragement carried me through the hardest days.

To the indie authors out there hustling to get their stories out into the world: keep going. Your voice is powerful. Your story is needed.

And to my readers — this award belongs to you, too. You believed in Miriam and Ava, and now the world is taking notice.

With endless gratitude,
Maya Fisher
Award-Winning Author of Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes

Pride Month Reflections: Stories That Matter, Voices That Deserve to Be Heard

Every June, we wave our flags a little higher. We remember the trailblazers who came before us, honor the struggles we’ve survived, and celebrate the joy of living boldly, authentically, and unapologetically queer.

For me, Pride isn’t just a month — it’s a lifelong journey. As a transgender woman, a below-the-knee amputee, and a lifelong resident of rural Appalachia, I know what it’s like to be pushed to the margins, to feel unseen in your own hometown, and to fight every day just to exist on your own terms.

That fight — and the healing that followed — inspired Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes, my debut novel.

📚 Reborn in Shadows tells the story of Miriam Ryder, a chain-smoking trans woman with a prosthetic leg, who lands in a small town after escaping a past that tried to erase her. It’s part thriller, part love story, and all about resilience. It’s for anyone who’s ever been counted out. It’s for those still searching for a reason to believe in themselves.

And it’s self-published. That means every single word, every ounce of marketing, every bookstore pitch and Pride event appearance is fueled not by a big publishing machine — but by heart, hustle, and help from people like you.

🛒 How You Can Support Me This Pride Month

If you want to support queer voices, indie publishing, and stories that make a difference, here are a few simple ways to do just that:

📖 Buy the Book:
You can grab your copy of Reborn in Shadows: From the Ashes from my official website — where signed paperbacks and hardcovers are available — or through online retailers like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and more.

✍️ Leave a Review:
A few kind words on Amazon, Goodreads, or B&N go a long way in helping new readers discover the book. It costs nothing but makes a world of difference to an indie author like me.

📢 Spread the Word:
Know someone who loves thrillers? Queer romance? Books about healing and hope? Send them my way. Share a post. Tag a friend. Visibility is everything.

🎁 Donate a Copy:
This month, I’m giving away books at Pride in the Park to LGBTQ+ attendees who might not otherwise afford one. You can sponsor a copy for just $15 and help someone feel seen.

This Pride Month, I’m not just celebrating — I’m building. I’m building space for stories like mine. For kids who need to know they aren’t broken. For adults who’ve been waiting their whole lives to feel understood.

Thank you for helping me share Reborn in Shadows. Thank you for showing up for queer stories. Thank you for believing that all of us deserve to be the main character once in a while.

Happy Pride, from the bottom of my heart. 🌈

With love and fire,
Maya Fisher
Founder, One-Legged Woman Publishing

Help Me Put My Book Into the Hands of LGBTQ+ Readers This Pride

I’m incredibly honored to share that a local organization has purchased 20 signed copies of my novel Reborn in Shadows for me to give away at Pride at the Park, happening June 29th at Breaks Interstate Park.

This is a powerful, rural Pride event — a space where visibility matters deeply. My book, which centers on a transgender woman navigating life, trauma, and second chances, was written for moments like this. I want to connect with LGBTQ+ folks who may never have seen someone like themselves on the page before.

Here’s the challenge:
🛑 Due to park regulations, sales are not allowed on-site — only free giveaways.
📦 I have 20 copies thanks to an amazing donation, but I would love to bring 50 total copies to ensure more attendees can receive one.
💸 I simply can’t afford to print the remaining 30 books out of pocket.

So I’m asking, humbly and hopefully —
If you believe in this book’s message, if you believe queer voices belong in rural spaces, and if you want to help make Pride unforgettable for someone in Appalachia:
👉 Would you consider donating to help fund the remaining 30 copies?

Every bit helps. Whether you sponsor a single book, five, or more, you’re helping put a story of survival, resilience, and queer joy directly into the hands of those who need it most.

I’ll be signing each copy and giving them away personally. Let’s make this a moment of connection, hope, and visibility.

📬 If you’d like to help, DM me or email me at authormayafisher@gmail.com
💖 Thank you for being part of this journey.

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