Here are the things that I do not want to forget about 2019.
I wrote 303,262 words this year:
- 37 essays, recipes, and pieces of short nonfiction
- 14 pieces of short fiction
- 2 scripts
- 5 outlines
- 14 pitches
- 4 rewrites
- 1 new novella
- 1 new novel, as-yet incomplete.
I read 100 books.
I received a few thousand rape- and death-threats.
I broke up with someone who I care for a great deal.
I found a new therapist.
I said goodbye to a friend, and attended his funeral, and the grief struck me like a water balloon, sudden and shocking.
I sat on 19 airplanes, visited 25 cities, appeared at 29 events.
I launched MAGIC FOR LIARS, my first adult novel. It was spectacular.
A doctor lied to me about a medication, what it was for and what it would do to me, and I spent a month in hell because of it.
I found a doctor who believed me, and then another one, and I asked them for help.
I was diagnosed with 2 chronic illnesses, one of them sort-of treatable.
I started treatment (goodbye, immune system). I learned that I am good at giving myself shots, and that the leg hurts more than the belly, but the psychological toll of putting a needle into one’s own stomach is more than I can reliably handle.
A short story I wrote was nominated for a Hugo award.
I turned cooking into a hobby, and found out that I can feel creative joy even when I’m not writing words.
I did not have to fight anyone with my fists, not even once, all year long. (It has been a long time since that was true.)
I got a new tattoo.
I learned how to enjoy games (the trick is to find good people to play them with).
I did not move to a new home this year, not even once, all year long. (It has been a long time since that was true, too.) I stayed in Los Angeles and filled my home with 39 houseplants, and I cooked good for the people I love most in the world.
I thought 2019 would be a battle, because I am used to fighting and it is all that I really know how to expect — but that is not what 2019 was. It was hard work and great reward; it was painful growth and unexpected flourishing; it was learning and examination and unravelling and reweaving.
2019 was bread and roses. I will not forget that this is the year I discovered what it is to have them both.