We're in the final week of season eight of the Free Refills project. A week from today will mark the two-year anniversary of the project's true beginning. How about that, eh? Things have been changing around here for a while now--you've noticed, I assume--but the pace of that change will be accelerating.
If you're a longtime reader, you have seen me at times suggest that maybe what I'm writing isn't for everyone. More accurately, you've seen me say that like it's a problem.
Well let me first of all say that no writer's work appeals to everybody. I've seen writers whom I admire disparage publicly the work of the guy whose writing flipped the switch inside my heart that made me say, "I want to try to do that." A benefit of excellent writers feeling inspired to flip the metaphorical bird at someone who literally altered the course of my life is that the pressure is surely off me. That guy was a fucking genius, and some very smart people hate his work. Lord knows I don't have to try to please everybody.
So I'm done worrying about it. If my work speaks to you, fine. If it doesn't, also fine.
I have a voice, and I have something to say with it. The universe doesn't play tricks on us. If you're called to speak, the universe will bring ears to listen.