Thank You :)

I don't deserve your generosity, but I want to tell you that I know, in my deep and true heart, that it is generosity. And I'm grateful for it.

Right before Christmas, I wrote in my journal, "A perfect morning!" And then listed out all of the things that had made it so: woke up to fresh snow, had a spellbinding gay book waiting for me, did some fine writing, personal essay accepted at top tier publication, cat cuddles, Stacy ordered fancy coffee and cheese pie, soup in the crock pot, women's basketball on tap.

And I haven't written in my journal since then — because, after that morning, everything in my little world exploded into absolute chaos. My grandfather went into the hospital with another stroke, then to rehab, then back to the hospital, then to hospice. He passed away last week, and I hopped on an airplane to go home for the first time since getting COVID and then Long COVID in 2020.

What else? Our cat, Quasar, went knocking on death's door, too, and no veterinarian in the entire city of New York could figure out what was going on with her, even though they all agreed she was in Bad Shape. (She's just fine now!) My body went absolutely honkers bonkers, including an infection that caused my doctor to go, "Yooooo, damn!" when he poked his otoscope into my ear. Our house started crumbling down around our heads; our front stairs — which are made of brick and stone, okay, like the sturdiest of the Three Little Pig houses — simply crumpled under my feet one afternoon. And that began a month of workers tromping in and out of our house, and also our landlord, who rolled through with COVID, RSV, the flu, and pneumonia. (Ask me how many masks she wore during that Infinite Germ Parade? Answer: zero.)

And, of course, you've seen the news. You don't need me to tell you how all of this stuff felt with all of that stuff happening as the backdrop.

I've had a little bit of a tough time trying to figure out exactly how to navigate my newsletter over the last several months. I was so consumed by all the scary and frustrating things happening that I was having a hard time even considering writing about something else, even though I really wanted to. Like, do you know how badly I want to discuss the latest Stardew Valley update with you? You can put hats on your cats now! HATS on your CATS! Yes, multiple cats. But also, things are already hard as heck out here; do you really need me in your inbox once a week talking endlessly about anticipatory bereavement and slate shingles flying off my roof and, I don't know, brain juice leaking out of my ears? (Non-scientific symptom analysis.)

Which brings me to what I really want to say today, which is: thank you.

Look, I know we are at a cultural saturation point with newsletters. And I know everyone who reads newsletters is feeling nickeled and dimed to death with writers asking you to pay for this and that thing on Substack and beyond. Being a Substack reader these days is kind of like living next door to a Mary Kay salesperson. The blowback is already in full effect, and it's only going to get trickier to navigate, as a consumer, as the economy tanks and more and more professional writers and journalists are forced to reckon with their publications rolling over for venture capital and fascism.

You don't need my newsletter, and your financial contributions to it aren't something I'm entitled to. And yet! You have chosen to subscribe to my writing — and so, so, so many of you have chosen to pay for a subscription on top of that, even though you don't really get anything extra out of it except a few cards or stickers a year, and the knowledge that you're helping me continue to pursue my literary dreams. You have stood by me, even in these extremely difficult months, when my publishing schedule was erratic and mostly I was only writing about my own consuming grief. For some reason, even during these bleak times, my free and paid subscriber base has continued to grow.

I'll be honest with you: I'm never going to actually fully understand the immense and enormous kindness y'all have shown me over the course of my nearly 20-year writing career — but I am grateful beyond the telling of it. I don't deserve your generosity, but I want to tell you that I know, in my deep and true heart, that it is generosity. I never want you to read or pay for my work because you feel guilty or trapped or tricked or manipulated or shamed, or like I think you owe me anything. You do not! You have given me more than I could ever have dreamed of when I set off on this path in 2008. And I just want to say thank you. For believing in me, for supporting me, for being patient with me, for your encouraging words, for your prayers for me and my family, for your advice about my sick cat, for letting me write for you and pop up in your inbox once a week with my whimsy and hope and sometimes broken heart.

I plan to get back to a more regular newsletter publishing schedule in the coming weeks. I can't wait to tell you, very soon, about all the good gay books I've been reading; about my new best video game friend Taash, nonbinary dragon hunter; and about WOMEN'S BASKETBALL!

Thank you for reading my writing.

love,

Heather