The Aftermath

Photo credit: inefekt69 on FlickrNote: I wrote this November 9th. As I know many of us are still grieving, I'm sharing it today. Stay safe out there. <3

It's November 9 when I'm writing this, and today my heart hurts. My head hurts. My body hurts. When you're chronically ill, stress can cause flares, so I'm not surprised it's 9AM and I'm already thinking about painkillers.

And still, I have work to do. NaNo words to write. This post. Editing work for clients. An overflowing e-mail inbox that needs attention. A vlog to record—and hopefully record without it being obvious I was crying this morning. I'll get through it one step at a time, but right now moving forward feels like walking through molasses.

I'm scared for myself. For so many of my friends. For what this will mean tomorrow, and the day after, and every day for the next four years and two months.

I'm telling myself I have today to process emotionally but tomorrow I have to start fighting.

Among the grieving, I've seen a lot of inspirational threads online. About the importance of writing children's literature, especially now. About art. About supporting people who need it. About loving each other.

I'm going to share them here:

Kidlit world: Our jobs are so much more important this morning. Reading forges empathy. It's time to get to work.— Alison Weiss (@alioop7) November 9, 2016

Your voice matters.
Your story matters.
Your art matters.
Your love matters.
Your hope matters.
Your friendship matters.
Now more than ever.— A witch, probably. (@kellybarnhill) November 9, 2016

Kidlit community: many of us are going to retreat into our art. Now, more than ever, we must also lift up the work of others. Of "Others."— heidi heilig