Sometimes I look at the subheading at the top of this website and think “I’ve been doing this for three years past a decade? WTF was I doing that whole time and why do I still feel like I have so much more to do?”
Then sometimes I remember things. Such as:
1) I’ve managed to carve out a reliable secondary income for myself through self-published ebooks. And to those who continue to attach shame/failure notions to self-publishing: wake up and smell the new economy. I’ve made more money through self-publishing than I’ve made through all the stories I’ve sold combined.
2) Speaking of those stories: I’ve had over twenty-five of them published in nationally-distributed print magazines. Remember magazines? They used to be pretty popular, and ubiquitous. Those old issues of Men, Freshmen, Mandate and Torso sitting in a box in your uncle’s closet? There’s a chance that there’s one of my stories in there; and trust when I say that they were not easy to get into and they paid pretty damn well.
3) I’ve contributed stories – fiction and essay – to over seventeen books. Print anthologies, mostly – the kind you used to buy in bookstores. I go to the library, and there are my stories. I’m still getting published in these. They’ve never paid well but damn if credits like Best Gay Erotica 2011 don’t look good on my resume.
4) So far I’ve had one single-author volume published through an independent press. It’s illustrated, for fuck’s sake. And it was a finalist for a goddamn Lambda Literary Award. My first book.
To my readers: love and gratitude. To the bitches: suck it up, swallow it down and don’t expect a call tomorrow.