I’m finally putting something out there, and it feels good. Even if it is online, there is fiction that I wrote out there in the world, and even if only one or two people ever enjoy it, I’ll be happy. I’m writing, I’m productive, and I’m filling a need I’ve had for quite some time to have my own words and do what I like with them. I tried finding a channel for that in official, established ways — academia, publishing houses, at work — and for too long I let myself be discouraged by how easily people would dismiss me, shoot my ideas down, or just fail to show any interest. I would get depressed because I was judged based on my appearance, or because others only took interest in me based on what I could give them instead of what we could give each other.

Self-publishing isn’t a radical concept, but it feels revolutionary to me.