What does and what doesn't matter to me…

Over the last twelve months I've been sick, mostly my lungs, but it affects everything really. I ignore it the best I can and even if I was close to dying I wouldn't tell anybody. I like working out lately, and hope it will help, but even that has to be done in short intense bursts of fifteen to twenty minutes or it leaves me extremely light-headed and super weak. And work, my actual manual labor work, which I used to take a lot of pride in because it was the only thing I was good at, is a chore now too. I can't push myself or I'll pass out. But I pretend everything is okay, and I smile, even though it frightens and frustrates the hell out of me.

Being labeled a writer doesn't matter to me. I'll write until a few days before they're chucking dirt on my casket. And even then I'll probably still be trying to make peace with myself.

Having some persona or being part of any cliques or being charming or popular isn't true to who I am and will never bring me joy. Even the sales don't mean much. Rock and Shock taught me that my favorite part besides creating is just talking to readers. They're good people and I'm a ferocious reader too, so we have that in common. And it means a lot to me when someone enjoys my work because beneath the fantastical elements the stories are GODDAMN REAL. They're MY motherfucking life and every bit of pain I've ever felt and every smile I've ever smiled.

I've got so many people (and I list a ton of you in the next two Delirium books coming out in February and April) who support me and spread the word. Thank you so much. It blows my mind that you're all so loyal and so giving.

And I have some people I don't care for. Some who can't let shit go even after years have gone by and still they're trying to interfere with my life, or writers who think I have some secret that will open the doors of publication to them (there are no secrets. Work your ass off and be as honest in your stories as possible and develop the way you tell stories, build faith in the stories only you can write, always learn more, always dig deeper even as it's killing you.) I wrote for years and years and years without selling anything. Rejection is part of the process. In writing, in work, in love, in school. It's always going to be part of it.

I feel overwhelmed because I'm getting things ready for what REALLY matters to me: to start a business in another state so I can move my parents to a better climate and take care of them. My dad is getting up there in age and my mom, who has had a stroke and is diabetic needs him, but the day is coming when he can't do it all anymore. When he can't cut forty cords of wood to heat their house in the winter, or his eye sight is so bad he can't give my mom her shots without hurting her. I have to make sure I do my part to set them up where they can enjoy themselves and I can spend time with them everyday and so they still have each other. And then I'm going to talk to more kids about imagination, creativity and honesty. Because that's about all I have to give. And it's more than enough for me. I don't care what anybody else thinks I should be doing.

I just can't handle everything going on (the health issues and legal crap; something in my love life that is new and scares me and I don't know how to deal with it so I'm backpedaling away from it; getting things ready for my parents) so I'm downsizing and cutting out Facebook and forums. I've always wanted to be behind the stage anyway, and off to the side. I don't like bright lights. I get over stimulated very easily when I'm the center of anybody's attention. Any news I share will be on my website here: book sales, new openings, interviews, books I'm reading that really move me, etc. Because my energy and focus are limited. I'll work on getting a subscribe button on here for anyone who wants to know when new posts are made.