A decade ago, I was a decent writer of dark, semi-literary, mostly-queer southern gothic stories. I sold a few and won a few contests. Then adulthood and the career-destroying combination of depression and ADHD kicked my ass.
I spent the next decade working a series of increasingly interesting but low-paying jobs, taking way too long to get a Master’s degree, and reading and writing very little fiction. Now I have a boring job and am done with grad school, so I’m out of excuses not to write. So, armed with drugs, some interesting life experience, and hopefully a little bit of maturity, I’m trying again. Let’s do this.