Hi friends,
It has been a while, hasn't it? I've been working hard on multiple different projects and I'm so excited to see how they start coming together. I'm working with a new cover artist, I'm outlining new stories, and more. If you're one of the folks who already receive my newsletter, you know that I've been working on the diaries of Prince Sebastian from Thy Choicest Gifts. It's been fascinating to dive back into his mind and his story and find out about the young prince as he grew up. If you liked TCG, I think you'll really like this look into Sebastian's younger years, from his early days at Eton, to his first official event as a working member of the Royal family, to much more. If royal romance isn't your jam, maybe you loved the Spectrum of Stars Duology. If that's the case, I've got some exciting news for you there too. I'm currently outlining a new story in that universe. Just because Athlen's time in the First Void War is over doesn't mean there aren't many more folks, on both sides, who have stakes and stories. These are still really nebulous story ideas, but I'm excited about them. And if you aren't receiving my newsletter, why? Click here and sign up. Now, to the real point of this blog post. HAPPY PRIDE! Yes, I'm aware that Pride Month is nearly over. I'm not sure about how it's been for you all, but this month has felt super hectic and chaotic. There are some changes on the horizon and we're super excited about them, but change usually comes with chaos. Sometimes, when life is chaotic, the celebrations seem to get lost. That's normal, and that's okay. This is the most chaotic week yet, and yet we've had the chance to celebrate Pride. We've done it in small batches, but we've done it. Let me explain. At the beginning of the month, a colleague of Joey's who is an ardent supporter of the Philadelphia Orchestra, invited us to a very intimate PSO Pride celebration at his and his husband's home. It was a very small group but also GAY AS HELL. It was a wonderful event that even had a small, private concert with the Orchestra's principal cellist. It was a wildly surreal event for us. After all, I'm an indie author and Joey's the pastor of a very small Lutheran church, we are hardly rolling in the cash. At one point during the celebration, I turned to him and said "how do we keep ending up at events like this?" He smiled and simply said, "Because we say yes." It was a simple, yet profound statement. Sometimes in life, all it takes is a simple yes. We made the decision to say yes to all sorts of events and fundraisers and God knows what else. But that means more than just showing up to celebrations. It means showing up to heartbreak. Sitting with someone when they're in crisis, volunteering your talents somewhere. Saying yes to being present. People remember your presence, at both the good times and the bad times. Earlier this week, we joined that same colleague and his husband at the Philadelphia Orchestra Pride Concert. The concert was hosted by the AMAZING Sapphira Cristál It was a glorious celebration of queer composers and musicians. The Orchestra was accompanied by three amazing, local queer choirs, the ANNA Crusis Feminist Choir, the Philadelphia Voices of Pride choir, and the Philadelphia Gay Men's Chorus. We've actually become friends with the outgoing artistic director of the Gay Men's Chorus, and it was wonderful to support him and all the fabulous voices that filled Marian Anderson Hall, formerly Verizon Hall, at the Philadelphia Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts. This brings me back to my point about PRIDE. All across the country, for the last month, queer voices have joined as a chorus, singing out our celebrations. Celebrations of our identities, of our hard won victories, of the amazing things that make us, as queer people, who we are. There's something liberating about being queer, I think. Yes, it comes with it's own burdens but in some ways, the queer identity is an art in and of itself. And Pride let's us celebrate that. But that global choir of queer voices don't just sing our joys; it sings our laments as well. It reminds us of what we've lost; friends, families, homes. Sometimes our lives. It sings of young queer people who feel isolated and terrified. It reminds us that while we celebrate our differences, we still are different. And different can be uncomfortable and vulnerable. It sings the lamentation of our broken hearts as we watch our queer siblings being targeted by hatred; hatred that isn't just attacks on the rights of queer people, especially trans folks, but acts of hatred purported to be love. Those songs of heartbreak make PRIDE all the more important. PRIDE is our big speech at the end of the Independence Day film. "We will not go quietly into the night. We will not vanish without a fight, we're going to live on, we're going to survive." PRIDE is our declaration of our indominable spirit as queer people. PRIDE our victory shout. PRIDE is our call to action. That action doesn't always need to be huge sacrifices. Not every queer person is a Marsha P Johnson or Harvey Milk. Simple acts of civil rebellion can be just as effective as a march in the streets. It's as simple as wearing a rainbow watch band or an HRC equality sticker on your car. Simple things make big changes, acts that other people might not notice, but that queer kid who is convinced he's alone or broken might see that watch band and know, that there is a community here for them. That equality sticker might remind someone that advocacy is as important as a parade. PRIDE is loud. It's big. It's often obscene. And it's fucking beautiful. But PRIDE can just as easily be those small acts. For me, my acts of PRIDE are my books, my unapologetically queer characters. My acts of PRIDE are my rainbow Apple Watch band, or the Pride flag I have hanging in the window of my study. Sometime it's painting my nails the colors of the Pride flag, or the M/M Flag. It's financially supporting advocacy groups, like the Human Rights Campaign or the Trevor Project. It's supporting queer artists and queer business. My act of PRIDE is sometimes living my life out loud by taking my husband's hand in the middle of Philadelphia, or being visible on our date nights. I act out my PRIDE for the kid who can't. Because I was that kid. I act out my PRIDE for the mother who is terrified that her child is going to be bullied and alone. I act out my PRIDE because I have the privilege to do so. And I want others to have that privilege if they want it. I act out my PRIDE all damn year long, because we aren't restricted to thirty days in the middle of the year. PRIDE month is an absurdist, obscene, loud, visible, gaudy, garish, feathery, glittery, half (or more) naked, BEAUTIFUL thing. But it's just the start. PRIDE is support, it's love, it's living. So, even if it's quietly, live proudly. Live proudly in your identity. Live proudly in your loving relationships. Live proudly for those who are still figuring it out. Live proudly for those who have gone before us, and for those who lived before they could be proud. So, say yes. Live PRIDE. And above all, no matter what your sexual identity, or you acceptance at home, remember this: You are seen. You are loved. You matter.
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