I had the call for submissions up on my screen when my 16-year-old walked in and said excitedly, “Is that an Odyssey anthology?”

Like any standard fantasy nerd, my 16-year-old is having a Greek mythology phase. Mine started in grade school (Clash of the Titans!). My kiddo’s is based around Percy Jackson and Epic: The Musical, and this is a shout-out to the other parents who also brought their teens to the Troy Doherty concert in New York a few months back because Troy sings Hermes in Epic. There was a girl cosplaying as Circe on line behind us and handing out little pig trinkets. I love a good fandom. (But I also texted my husband, “I feel like I’m chaperoning the prom.”)

“You have to write something for this,” my kiddo said.

“I will if I come up with a good idea,” I said, and promptly started rereading The Odyssey.

Anyway, I’m excited to announce my story is one of the offerings in the anthology! “Phemius” retells the homecoming of Odysseus through the eyes of the unlucky poet who happens to be performing for Penelope’s suitors that bloody day—so yeah, basically a horror story. Odysseus from Flame Tree Press will be available in April, and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories.

And I scored some cool points with my kiddo.

###

I was out on a freelance assignment the other day when the person I was interviewing mentioned he liked my Star of David necklace. I paused before thanking him. Usually when people notice you’re Jewish, it isn’t a good thing.

I don’t hide who I am in any setting. Mostly because I shouldn’t have to. Also because I know that hiding doesn’t work.

I attended an Orthodox synagogue as a kid, but at home we were outwardly pretty secular—wore the same clothes as everyone else, ate the same food (outside the house, anyway), attended public schools, did all the same ballet class/softball kid things. I’ve always had a not-Jewish-sounding name. I’ve been told, more than once, Oh, you don’t look Jewish! like it’s a compliment. I never wore a Star of David to school. And yet the other kids threw pennies at me anyway. Called me names. Told me I killed Jesus. Hiding didn’t matter. When you’re “different,” people know.

So I don’t hide. But being Jewish in public has gotten a lot more fraught in the past couple years.

My heart is scorched by the terrorist attack in Australia on families who just wanted to celebrate Hanukkah. By all the other attacks on Jews around the world, a whole litany of them in recent years. I am tired and furious and sad.

But I’m still wearing my star. And I’m lighting my menorah tonight.

Driving out the darkness is the point.

Happy Hanukkah.

I check the news every day. Several times a day. Yes, I am perpetually frustrated and outraged. No, it’s not great for my mental health. (Or for the actual physical health and safety of so many other people. Worry about them, not me.) At the end of the day, at the end of the week while we’re lighting Shabbos candles, I focus inward: Everyone in this family is okay. That’s what I can control. As long as we’re okay, we’re available to help others. And so on to the next week.

So how do I keep writing? How does one stay creative when everything is on fire? For me, this one’s easy. Because I write fantasy.

The entire point of fantasy is to escape reality. It’s to imagine a place where magic exists and people can call down lightning or change shape with their bare hands. Where otherworldly creatures fly, or breathe fire, or heal injuries with a touch of their horn. Where ordinary people band together for an extraordinary purpose, and through their courage, friendship and honor, change the world.

The magic is fun, but it isn’t really the point. Because fantasy is about taking on a quest and seeing it through, no matter the cost. It’s about the best of what we can be. That’s why I grew up reading fantasy, and why I write it now. It tells me what kind of reality to strive for.

###

With disappointment and regret, I’m moving on from my middle grade golem novel; after this last rejection, I’ve run out of agents to query. I was hoping for a better result, especially after the manuscript awards, but so be it.

I am happy to report that the superhero anthology I have a story in blew way past its Kickstarter goals and should be out in the next month or two. Also happy to report that the foreword was written by J.M. DeMatteis, comics legend who’s written for a ton of superhero titles. His Moonshadow is considered the first fully painted graphic novel; when I read it years ago, I thought it was offbeat, funny and a strange kind of beautiful.

I have another story acceptance that I’m hoping to announce soon. Otherwise, I have various stories boomeranging back and forth looking for homes and a fantasy novel-in-progress that’s starting to look like something interesting. So we’ll see what the next few months bring.

Keep writing, stay safe.

We were in the Poconos recently on a family trip. Rain was threatening, and thunder rolled across the lake. My son and I sat on the balcony of our hotel room, casually chatting, while the thunder got louder and the rain poured down and lightning flashed around us. A strange crackling, crashing sound startled us; we guessed lightning had hit a tree somewhere around the lake. Sirens blared, warning people about the lightning. And we kept sitting there, talking, determined to enjoy ourselves, despite the chaos and the danger.

If that doesn’t feel like a metaphor for this entire year—and maybe the past few years—I don’t know what does.

Awful things keep happening, in the country and in the world, but so do high school graduations and family trips. Life just keeps going. You acknowledge the danger, you try and keep your loved ones safe. But you also enjoy the lakeside view, if you’re lucky enough to have one. Even in the rain.

###

My group’s first-ever Pride event in town was a success, I’m happy to report, and we’re already planning next year’s event.

After a whole string of stories getting shortlisted but then ultimately rejected, I have two short stories set to be published soon! I’ll post the links as soon as they’re up. One I wrote years ago, pulled out and revised recently, then sent off to see what would happen, and I’m so glad to find it a home.

In the meantime, I’m working on this fantasy novel (including in the car, to and from the Poconos). I’m still figuring out how the different elements fit together and how the main characters feel about each other, but I’ll have a better sense of all that by the end. And then the real work begins.

Hoping for hopeful things this summer. Stay safe, keep creating.

Sometimes I think it’s the pen. My favorite for a while was a white pen that said Walt Disney Resorts on it in gold. The pen always wrote smoothly. I’d never run out of words. (It was probably just a white Bic pen in fancy clothes, but I liked to pretend otherwise.)

Sometimes I think it’s the notebook. Smaller is better for road trips. Larger is better for home. A soft cover is great; decorated leather is perfect. Notebooks that are pleasant to look at must also be easier to write in.

Sometimes it’s the time of day, or the amount of doomscrolling I’ve done, or whether I’ve slept enough. But really, I know none of that matters. Magical thinking is fun to indulge in—especially when you’re writing about magic—but it won’t get the story finished. The only thing that does is showing up, day by day, and putting words down. The writing is what matters.

I’ve been batting around this dybbuk novel, trying to figure out the balance of horror and humor, trying to figure out how to play the inevitable scene where I explain Jewish folklore for readers who might not know it. Some days I know what I’m writing next; other days I scowl at the notebook for a while. But that’s the process, and I’ll keep at it.

And frankly, it beats doomscrolling.

Hoping for good things for you this week.