When I started my Substacky thing a year ago, I had big ideas and no expectations. It was wonderful.
Things didn’t really go as I’d hoped, and that seems to have been a main theme of 2024. As a result, I haven’t sent a Substacky thing in a while. I do apologize.
Though 2024 began as a year of potential and promise, I had to take some time away from the fiction writing game. My sabbatical turned out to be longer than I would have liked. I delayed this Substacky thing further because, when it was clear I was away long enough that I was going to have to restart the thing, I wanted to have something prepared to address it all. I wanted to write about the endless rejection we writers face and how to deal with it. I wanted to write about how the whole universe seems to discourage you from doing the thing you love and were born to do and how to fight against that. I wanted to write about the spiraling depression that comes when you begin to realize you can’t. I wanted to write about the devastating blow America took right in the nuts last month. And, I wanted to do it all in a way that would be useful. The last thing I want to do in any space is whine. I don’t totally lack perspective. I know millions of people have it much worse than me.
But that’s sort of the point, isn’t it?
I’m getting off track again. I’ve been getting off track a lot lately. Please forgive me. I’m getting old, but I think it’s more attributable to these turbulent times and how utterly confounding they can be for writers. I’ve seen many of my peers write about how to write during times like these, and I simply haven’t been able to. There’s your holiday 2024 update. The end.
I’ve been playing the fiction writing game long enough to have learned I can’t write during times of great change. I’ve also learned I can’t write during times of sadness and grief and darkness. So much of my writing is about precisely those things, so when I’m experiencing them, I need to experience them. Writing about them is for later. For me, 2024 was a year of great change and a year of grief.
Apologies for being cryptic. I hate it when people are cryptic. It’s like, do you want me to know what’s bothering you or not? In this case, I want you to know some things were bothering me and preventing me from writing, and let’s leave it at that.
Maybe you noticed I wasn’t sending my Substacky things out, and maybe you didn’t. If you follow me on social media, maybe you noticed I haven’t been there either, and maybe you didn’t. I’ve been keeping to myself a lot this year because I’ve needed that. I haven’t sent a Substacky thing because I needed to not do that.
New Year’s is a double-edged sword for me this time. In one sense, I’m looking forward to the restart, hoping 2025 is the later when I’ll be able to write about the change and grief of 2024. However, I’m also wont to say I’m afraid of the future, so I write about it and hope I’m wrong. I think the future looks dark, indeed, especially so for many vulnerable people, but I hope I’m wrong.
As the future of my Substacky thing goes, I’m evaluating that. 2024 was supposed to be a trial run of sorts. I wanted to send one useful piece out each month and see where that took me, but I couldn’t follow through. For a fiction writer these days, being able to send emails to readers is a fundamental need, and Substack is, I think, the only free option (fiction writers don’t make any money) that is also practical, but I’m not sure what I’m doing here is working. I’ll be thinking about adjustments for next year, so stay tuned.
I won’t say ‘farewell.’ I’ll say ‘more to come.’
While the future of Dark Matters (I won’t write “Substacky thing” again, promise) is uncertain, you can count on me continuing to write. I simply cannot not write. Maybe throw some good juju my way that something pans out and a door opens. If that happens, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I hope you have an amazing holiday season and happy new year!