In 2016 I had to leave a job I loved because I was too sick to work. I’ve since had two surgeries, cultivated an essential but bank-draining team of medical specialists, and developed a truly spectacular tolerance to painkillers.

For me, Endometriosis has been a nuclear bomb dropped on my life.

Scientifically speaking: Endometriosis is a condition that occurs when cells similar to the inner lining of the uterus (the endometrium) decide they’re strong independent cells that’re gonna strike out on their own and make it big, Mama! Endometriosis growths are commonly found in the abdominal cavity of sufferers – getting up close and personal with your abdominal walls or your local organs. Some cells dream a little bigger though, migrating into organs like your bladder or bowel.

A woman's nose
Then there’s that free spirit who finds his calling in your fucking nasal cavity

In severe cases, the inflammation from endo growths can cause your organs to stick to your abdominal walls (or each other). Think Shelob’s cave from Lord of the Rings but the web is scar tissue.

Oh but wait, there’s more.

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A masterful story is a lot of things. It carries plot, characterisation, tension, meaning, and absolutely, unequivocally does not make its audience go, “What? Where the fuck did that come from?”

The Sixth Sense
Not to be confused with, “What? Where the- oh. Ohhhhhhh!”

The WTF reaction from your audience is one of the fastest ways to get people to hate your story. There’s a reason people froth at the mouth when discussing the Deus ex Machina trope. People hate feeling left out of the loop.

The loop, in this case, being the Setup/Payoff cycle.

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Sorry

News

Soz, No Gay Werewolves

Well, it’s that time again, folks! Time to miss a deadline and explain what asshole body part we have to blame for it!

Yes, I’ve had to put Hug Your Local Werewolf—my story of a queer boy who’s lycanthropically challenged—on pause for a little while. Fittingly, my Patrons got first-access to this explainer, but I figured all you faceless beauties on my analytics feed deserved a rundown as well.

Buckle up, kids, this gets hairy.

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Happy belated May the fourth, my good nerds!

I had an excellent Star Wars day myself, drinking good beer with good friends while wearing the physical proof that we’re not in the dark timeline after all.

Poe Dameron's Entire Face on a shirt
This is the most beautifully unnecessary shirt. I’ve never loved an item of clothing more.

But while some of us yelled about the stars aligning perfectly to give us Donald Glover’s casting as a young Lando Calrissian over Star Wars themed beverages, others chose to highlight their distaste for certain aspects of the franchise.

Now. As someone who’s spent a few thousand words detailing her own distaste for certain Star Wars storytelling choices, I’m not one to throw stones in this, the most fragile of houses.

Except people are coming for my very favourite trash sand lesbian and I will not have it.

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I want to talk about Love, Simon. But first I need to talk about another queer coming-of-age movie.

But I'm a Cheerleader
This one.

When I was 16 my best friend and I stayed with my dad for the school holidays.  On that trip, we went to Video Ezy and rented some of the trashiest movies we could find, determined to turn the entire two weeks into some sort of extended sleepover. One of those movies was But I’m a Cheerleader.

It was everything 16-year-old me wanted in a movie – awkward humour, flipping the bird to gender roles, and cheezy declarations of love.

It was also HELLA gay.

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