Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animal!

I'll see you in 2025!

Well, my gals and my guys and my themfriends, we made it! The last two weeks of the holiday season, where time is completely imaginary and the only thing that matters is getting as much chocolate + mint stuff as you can before it goes away until next December!

It sure has been a year, huh?

I once told my therapist that I was exhausted from self-actualizing, and she cackled and said, “Well, you have come to the wrong place.” Which is what I feel like writing this newsletter right now. Like, I do realize I should be doing some end of year lists* and personal reflection, but you know what? It’s snowing outside. I’ve got coffee brewing and blueberry muffins baking. One of my cats is in my lap and another one of my cats is on my shoulder. All the laundry in the whole house is clean and folded. I’ve got six very gay unread books loaded onto my Kindle. It’s nothing but women’s sports on TV all weekend. My wife is snoozing beside me. And my toes are toasty in wool socks and slippers. I’m all done self-actualizing for the year.

Which is why I want to use my last newsletter of 2024 to simply say thank you. Some of you have been with me since I was writing on my personal blog from my home in rural Georgia, working as an accountant and commuting three hours every day, still pretending to be into boys and Jesus. 20 years ago or something like that. Some of you have been with me since Glee and Skins and AfterEllen. Some of you have been with me since Autostraddle and Pretty Little Liars. Some of you found me because of my Long COVID writing in the Best American series. Some of you are here from my work as the engagement editor at The Sick Times. Some of you are are here because another newsletter recommended me and you have no idea what any of that other stuff is that I just said.

When I was sending out holiday postcards to my paid subscribers this year, my wife would sometimes walk by my desk and ask about the person whose card I was addressing. It made me so emotional because it was just like: “She and her husband met in our old Blogspot community” and “She was my colleague back in that summer when everything got so queer on Syfy” and “I met them on Twitter during Gentleman Jack” and “That’s my cousin” and “She’s a huge Lady Vols fan from Memphis” and “You know their screenname as such-and-such, with the giant orange cat with white feets” and “I met him at a Doctor Who Comic-Con panel” and “That’s our vet tech” and “Our great-grandparents lived across the street from each other” and “She’s from my Long COVID Discord” and “She wrote that book I loved about German fairytale food” and “She collects vintage Baby-Sitter’s Club books” and “They do these amazing original creations with Lego.”

There was this trend going around on Substack this year where people would say “My readers are…” and then do a fun little list like “audiobook lovers” and “crafty Spoonies” and “witches who have fucking had enough.” I wanted to participate but, I dunno — my readers are … very cool people I’m always holding in my heart and hoping the very best for? Folks I met along the way? Can’t imagine why I’m not more marketable!

What I’m trying to say is that you’re all here for different reasons, and you all came at different times, and I am just so thankful that you allow me space in your inbox and in your brain to share my words and stories. That you keep coming back to my writing. That those of you who are able to do so support this newsletter financially, which is such an enormous contribution to my life. That you share yourselves with me sometimes, too. That you’ve made space and held space for us to be parts of each other’s lives in this way. It means everything to me. I know the main thing I’m good at is just being me, which is a hard sell in a pitch when you want people to pay you for your words, but for some wild and amazing reason, you’re into it. Thank you for being into it.

I hope the rest of your year is kind to you, full of warmth and softness and delicious snacks, that your sports teams win and your new video games from Santa are awesome and the TV shows you catch up on make you laugh and swoon. I hope for a sliver of magic to find you. And I hope you know that there’s me up in here in New York City, thinking about you and always wanting everything to go your way. I know it won’t, of course, and that the world itself feels almost too terrifying for words right now, but I’ll hope it anyway, and I’ll cheer you on when things go right and fight back for you when they don’t. And I’ll just keep on doing it, always and always.

Happy holidays, y’all! Happy Solstice! I’ll see you all in 2025!

*My dear friend

Valerie Anne

has written the best year-end lists, as always, so give yourself a holiday treat and check those out!