Hello from my hometown. Sorry for the silence; I had hoped to get at least one blog post up a day this month. However, this trip home has been way more emotionally draining and expensive than I could ever have imagined.

Home has always been a loaded concept. The place of my birth, my parents’ house, has never been the shelter from the world and its darkness that the word “home” conveys. I used to think that it was all my fault. I rambled around that Victorian house with untreated ADHD, and not a clue as to what a bisexual was, or that I could possibly be one. I was a literal nightmare, leaving destruction in my wake for the majority of my teens and early 20s. This trip has put that blame to bed. I was a child, one who needed help. Granted, that wouldn’t really be available for some time. But instead of dealing with the challenges that came with grace and love, it was manipulation, disdain, and distance.

Home is where I feel centered in who I am. Home right now is Portland; in my 20s, it was LA. Who knows where it will be in 5 years or 10? There is a large distance between the Spencer who exists here in Indiana and the Spencer that is real. I always chafe at the differences between the two. The Spencer that my family finds acceptable feels like I’ve lobotomized my entire personality as I shove myself back into the closet, to the sounds of Fox News coming from my father’s TV.

I’ve shared how hard this week has been on Instagram stories. It has been heartwarming to hear from some of you. It’s sad that many of you also feel lost in the place society expects you to feel the safest. I don’t think that is unusual. I think we tend not to talk about it, especially when you are the weird kid from a small, conservative town.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my book and if I will ever get it published in my parents’ lifetime. How would I handle that? My characters are queer, poly, and kinky AF. The decision I think is best is that I don’t think I will ever share the news. Why kick a hornet’s nest? They could never respect the boundary that I wrote this book, but I don’t want them to read it. They would never be able to abide that it wasn’t a book that was written with their comfort in mind. How could I not think about what the neighbors would think, how people would feel about how I was raised?

Speaking of my book, I am at 30,833 words. There are four days left. It is unrealistic to think that I will hit 50,000 this month. I am also coming around to the idea that it is unrealistic to think that Tegan’s story is contained to just one book. I am thinking duology, maybe a trilogy. But really, the romance of her and Emerson, and her and Nick are the ones I want to focus on. I do think there is room for a third book of her being carefree and slutty that could be fun.

For the rest of the month, I am just going to write scenes that I think would be fun to explore with Tegan. Then next month, I will focus on taking those scenes and crafting them into a book. I really think that July NaNoWriMo could be a final edit and polish month. I am so motivated to work on this. It has brought me so much joy in such a rough time. I cannot wait for you all to meet Tegan, Emerson, and Nick.

Talk to you soon

❤ Spencer