Dear subscribers, regular readers, and anyone who happens to be wandering by, I need your help. This blog features a lot of random updates, but there are also two sections that involve a lot of work: the so-called Fairy Stories (I chose that category name to piss J.R.R. Tolkien off in the afterlife, but it has stuck) and Poetry (in recent years, as I began to publish my own poetry on this site).
There are also some personal essays that deserve your attention. Specifically: on Kate Atkinson, on my Ukrainian Jack of Hearts, on how my life went all wrong (or right?), on Kiev and some of the men I’ve met there, and this photo essay on my family in 1970s Crimea. Oh, and this not-at-all personal essay on why Russians are into anal porn in a big way, heh heh (admit it, you’ve always wanted to know).
An editor myself, I believe in the power of editors. I rarely have time to have anyone else proof or critique what I publish on this site. I always think that while some of it can be compelling, it is also very raw.
Still, over the years, I’ve noticed that many of you have enjoyed my writing, and found it interesting and/or entertaining.
Some of you have occasionally donated to this site over the years. I’m sheepish about donations, but it’s time to admit it – they are very helpful. And in one instance, a donation tided me over through some fairly dark times.
Today, I need your help for two reasons.
1) Financial: I get a fair bit of freelance work, but have not been steadily employed for a while, and the freelance economy is brutal. It is like “Gladiator,” minus a hot Russell Crowe. Due to various complicating factors, I have really struggled these last few months.
2) Psychological: I won’t bore you with a litany of professional setbacks. Let’s just say I have discovered what feels worse than being ignored: It’s having people be enthusiastic about you and your work, and then abruptly decide that they’re no longer enthusiastic. It’s part and parcel of being a writer, but when it happens repeatedly, it erodes your confidence. It’s like having a man tell you he loves you before being all “LOL JK.”
The ensuing sadness is a vicious cycle. You doubt yourself more, so you work less, and you doubt yourself some more, and so you work even less, etc. For years, I’ve been my family’s dependable breadwinner, but in these last few months, I’m just…not. I am paralyzed by doubt. I can’t even read a good book now without telling myself, “Why, here’s a person who can write – AS OPPOSED TO YOU, YOU DUMB COW.”
If you donated, it would not only help me stay afloat, it would also show me that my writing means something to you. It would be a big deal for me at this point in time. The amount is entirely up to you. Thank you. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Love to you and yours.
(P.S. The featured image on this post is taken from Fellini’s excellent “Nights of Cabiria.” Please watch it if you haven’t. But not if you’re horribly sad)