Silence is Choking Me

 I had plans, last year, to try and write a post a week and publish a chapter of my finished trilogy a week.

That hasn’t exactly happened, but I’m trying to break through the feelings that have kept me silent and frozen, and well, that starts with a few words on a page, so here goes.

Oh, and this post comes with songs that inspired and fit its vibe. Let me know if you like that, because I might start including more song embeds and soundtracks to posts.

Never mind the whole “parenting takes time” thing – the real problems I’ve been struggling with are two primary issues.

1)       Everything is unbelievably hard and absurd

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=0Zz4UG7nA3Q&si=6MoXUbaqbskegi3B – this song keeps playing over and over in my head periodically.

It’s not exactly revelatory to mention that, you know, the world order has been upended and norms have been disrupted further than we thought possible. Nor is it particularly shocking to hear a millennial lamenting, but hey, that’s what I’m gonna do – reflect on how I feel about where We, as a society and maybe as a species, are at right now.

So obviously, this comes with the caveat and blinders of being a white North American from Canada, but the fact that we’ve all just kind of gotten used to what ecologists and scientists are referring to as “ecocide” [citation] is um, a trifle fucked up? Just a little bit. One of my cousins, whom I love dearly, posted about this recently.

Ecological issues are deeply important to me, but I’m often unable to focus on them because of the sheer existential dread and grief that comes with trying to think about them. I’m certainly not alone there, but I want to remind people who are trying desperately not to think about the climate crisis and water issues and plastic pollution and methane levels and deforestation – you are not alone in being scared as fuck, and upset, and angry.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=v2e6nVHfXa0&si=XyY1DlX9hN9FFt8B

But there is an upside to this. Doomerism is the weapon of the elites against us, and it’s also a vast, inaccurate scientific oversimplification. Have things gotten worse? Well, yeah. I’m not going to sugarcoat that. But a hundred small things make a difference, and there is no point at which we should just throw in the towel. Yes, things can get worse, but they can always get better, too. Every inch we fight for counts. Every tenth of a degree centigrade that we keep from advancing matters. Every species we protect and give a chance to rebound, matters.

Nature is more resilient than we think. This is not a video game, where we fail at a number of conditions and the game is just fucking irreparably over and lost. It’s not even that we still have “a chance,” it’s that we have thousands of chances. And we should not, and cannot, squander them.

This entire screed also applies entirely and completely to the political situation we’re dealing with. Democracy is not fucking dead, and billionaires and the elites are not invincible. And yes, it’s hard not to give up sometimes, and yes we need to take breaks and focus on joy to survive – but friends, there is so much more fight left in us than we realise. We just might have to try some different strategies. I’ll be talking more about politics in a post soon.

2)       Oh hey, apparently I’m more disabled than I realised

So another fun thing I’ve been grappling with is a number of health issues that – I haven’t been ignoring, I’ve just been unaware/haven’t realised how much I was struggling with them. Reader, I recently went and applied for some specific programs and initiatives, government things. Without getting into the precious and specific details of my diagnoses, it wa truly humbling, shocking, and in every way upsetting to realise just how much I’ve been dealing with, without…really realising or understanding the extent of my own problems.

It’s so easy to fall into default expectations of physical ability, especially if any or most of your disabilities present invisibly. I kind of thought the whole mental illness and autism things were bad enough, but hey, apparently there’s more I’ve been struggling with, and having to describe it for bureaucratic purposes really put it in ugly, ugly perspective.

So honestly, I’m grieving right now; over what I thought I could do and time I’ve lost, and I’m trying to adjust my expectations of my future. I don’t have any conditions that are immediately life-threatening or degenerative – to my knowledge, and so far – so in some ways, I do count myself as very lucky. But it’s still not what I envisioned and what I expected, and adjusting to that is goddamn hard.

So that’s where I’m at, but I have too many long-form thoughts and poems and stories percolating to be silent for long. But hey, I don’t want this post to be entirely either a) a bummer or b) kind of toxic, hopeless complaining, so I’m gonna close with a list of some things that are bringing me joy right now.

3)       The comforts and remedies

I’m lucky to have really good friends and relationships in my life, and I haven’t really had any friction from the people who care about me or socialise with me over my struggles. I’m really grateful for that. I recently finished an absolutely epic-length play-by-post roleplay game based on the Monsterhearts 2 roleplaying game system, a Powered by the Apocalypse build, and it was very fulfilling and deeply satisfying. We’re doing a few little epilogue-y things, but the actual game and a bunch of emotional stuff is pretty wrapped up.

That said, many of the same people and a couple of new faces are also involved in a second play-by-post game with a different system and storyline, involving Triangle Agency (which is a really cool system and game in terms of its design; strongly recommended!) and that’s been a blast. These games have been absolutely essential to my sanity and morale over the past couple of years, and I’m so grateful to have made some excellent friendships and deep bonds with my tablemates.

In terms of my other creative pursuits outside of writing, I’ve had a pretty good time with my knitting and jewelry-making; my wife and husband got me a chasing hammer and a new set of flush cutters for wire for Mother’s Day, and my god, having the right tools can make such a huge difference. I’m also pushing myself a bit with some market appearances this summer, like the local South Country Fair, and that’s pretty exciting.

Here’s a couple of pieces I’ve made (May 15^th, 2026, hot off the bench) and some in-progress knits.

  (This was a progress shot, but the bolero is now finished, and extremely soft and fluffy, btw)

I’m also enjoying parenthood a lot more than I feared; my son is absolutely wonderful, and a very kind, sweet, bright little creature, full of spirit and curiosity, but also immensely helpful. I couldn’t be a parent without the support structures of my spouses, and I’m so grateful that I get the chance to have this, and to have such a fantastic kid. I was so terrified that I’d hate parenthood, especially this toddler stage – and sure, sometimes it’s very hard work and tiring, but I’m inexpressibly happy and relieved that my greatest fears have been proven utterly wrong.

So that’s all for this post, but expect some political posts and a musing on the ends of, among others, Good Omens Season 3 and some other media properties coming soon, plus some more poetry.

***

A writer and artist, Michelle Browne lives in southern AB with xer family and their cats. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, knitting, jewelry-making, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find xer all over the internet: *Website * Amazon * Substack * Patreon * Ko-fi * Instagram * Bluesky * Mastodon * Tumblr * Medium * OG Blog * Facebook

Fuck Charlie Kirk

[So, I actually wrote this not long after the whole assassination thing happened, buuut it’s December and I feel like posting more poetry this month while I work on some upcoming posts, so that’s what you get!]

They held a rally for the fascist who died
there were pyrotechnics at his funeral
he said people like me
“should be dealt with like they did in the 50s and 60s”
And I’m still being scolded
for not mourning
Their small-featured martyr
apparently a calm white man with a baritone
deserves canonization for
being killed by the same words
he used as weapons

But when people demand grace and patience
without showing any
then say you deserve no quarter in the same breath
that’s just abuse in a cheap red ballcap
the tolerant have left
and if we’re using words as weapons
then catch the sharp end
of my self defense

I will not be quiet
I will not perform sadness
For a monster, a scam artist, or a grifter
I will not gracefully excuse
the fact that my member of Parliament,
Rachel Harder,
called for a standing ovation for a man who said
he’d make his daughter
bear a child of a rape to term
because forcing people to
give birth matters more than
our pain or our choices
I will not sit down and bite my tongue
For the potential of a career in politics
Because pinching our noses and making nice
Is how we got here

And if this poem makes you uncomfortable
and you want me to shut up
or be kinder
then look me in the eye and tell me
why I should care
about your feelings
more than my own or those of my communities

We will not be cowed
by your cowardice or fumbling snatches for power
we said “this pussy grabs back”
and now it’s got teeth

If this poem makes you uncomfortable
you do not have the right
to tell me to be nicer
and you can’t fucking make me.

***

A writer and artist, Michelle Browne lives in southern AB with xer family and their cats. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people’s manuscripts, knitting, jewelry-making, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find xer all over the internet: *Website * Amazon * Substack * Patreon * Ko-fi * Instagram * Bluesky * Mastodon * Tumblr * Medium * OG Blog * Facebook

 

 

 

Imposter Syndrome

So I’m staring down forty

over the horizon

and I don’t have an MFA

or a big publishing deal

or a six figure contract

I am crawling away

from the depression nest

of my faltering career

subsided from a bright flame

to coals from burnout

I never got famous as an editor

 

As a writer, I’ve dragged my feet

remembering to tell people is hard

and I’m trying to make it a habit

“Oh yes, I’m a writer and an artist”

it’s easier if

you pretend you’re talking about someone lese

who isn’t faking it: someone who wrote

several collections, a complete space opera series

a couple attempts at literature

a dystopian series faltering

but going ahead

a cozy academic trilogy

releasing now, serialised on Substack and Patreon

                                             

“I go by SciFiMagpie,” I say;

“You can call me Magpie”

 

And I hold my second name

Like a charm in my fist

I clutch that

and my strange pronouns

and my peculiar family

and my gothic affectations

only sheepishly permitted

to myself in adulthood

because I’m too old to be cool

and somehow, giving up on that

made me sexier

 

I take my scraps of identity

and I do my best to weave a nest

not to hide in while I’m depressed

but to hold ideas, hopes, plans

brooding over my future

rather than wondering

how I’d make it to thirty

 

Live like you’ve already failed

and everything else

becomes a gift.

***

A writer and artist, Michelle Browne lives in southern AB with xer family and their cats. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, knitting, jewelry-making, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find xer all over the internet: *Website * Amazon * Substack * Patreon * Ko-fi * Instagram * Bluesky * Mastodon * Tumblr * Medium * OG Blog * Facebook

Did you know that Chinook Phase is out?

 

Or at least, the first chunk of it is out! You can read the first 13 chapters, with a new one coming every week, on my Patreon or my Substack - and on Patreon, they're all free! (So far!)

That said, if you fall in love and want to kick a couple of dollars my way, that would be amazing.

What is Chinook Phase, you ask?

Well, it's the first novel in my cozy academia trilogy, a love-letter to my home town and university. Set in the early 2010s, it follows the multiple interwoven stories of a group of friends and frenemies, trying to sort out their love lives and friendships - and you know, maybe getting stabbed, drunk, or stalking each other along the way.

Follow Natalie, Charlotte, Kyla, Amanda, Rachel, and Greg through mishaps, heartbreaks, and disasters. Come for the gossip, stay for the friends-to-lovers and "I can make him worse" villain couple.

Check out the beautiful new face for the first novel!

SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL! Amazing work by Rachel A Rosen, Renaissance woman extraordinaire. Get your covers from her!

Anyway, so, catch my first Prairie Weather posts on Patreon or Substack!

***

Creation of this project was made possible in part by the generous funding of the Canada Council for the Arts, and the author gratefully acknowledges their contribution.

***

A writer and artist, Michelle Browne lives in southern AB with xer family and their cats. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, knitting, jewelry-making, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find xer all over the internet: *Website * Amazon * Substack * Patreon * Ko-fi * Instagram * Bluesky * Mastodon * Tumblr * Medium * OG Blog * Facebook

A History of Failure

 

Art by Rachel A Rosen, who also designs amazing covers for books (HINT!)

This essay is not about Taylor Swift – or at least, it’s got far less to do with Taylor Swift than my last essay. But there is a connection.

It’s pretty hard to deny that even though it’s made adequate bank, Life of a Showgirl has had – at least on parts of the internet I’ve seen, i.e. my Discord channels and my Youtube and Substack algorithms – a pretty negative reaction from fans and a lot of critics. The line between “fan” and “critic” is blurrier than it’s ever been, in this current era of accessible content creation and platforming. You don’t need to be an expert for your opinion to matter; you just need to catch the algorithm at the right or wrong time.

Regardless, some people are treating the album, and Swift, as a laughingstock, and not for the first time.

Now, in my own life, I mentioned in my last essay that I was running for the local public school board, and while I managed to get over 2900 votes, from a voting turnout of about 18% and about 20k voters or so, I didn’t get a spot on the school board.

 (My shitshow of a provincial government apparently is floating the idea of just abolishing school boards anyway. If you’re Albertan, this is a reminder to make a fuss and do your best to piss off the UCP. Operation Total Recall is underway, and please check it out, because this government is attacking our democratic rights and everyone’s interests, regardless of preferred political affiliation.)

Now – my personal failure here was a disappointment, but I’ve had a much kinder reaction from people. Partly, I don’t have the expectations placed on me that, you know, a seasoned political candidate or a world-famous celebrity like Swift does. And while I’m proud that I made the attempt, there’s still a certain shadow over any effort that doesn’t bear fruit.

It got me thinking: what does failure mean?

There’s something really interesting about failing these days. Now, maybe it’s a modern problem, or maybe there’s a historical precedent here, but at least in my own English-speaking, Western cultural context, it seems to me like failure has developed this moral weight to it.

A Quick, Dirty History of Success

I’ve alluded to the basic concepts of Calvinism and gestured at the Protestant work ethic and its resulting trauma before. In a quick, dirty overview, a prominent strain of Christianity held that some people were chosen for Heaven and others simply aren’t, and the seats are limited: predestination. However, and here’s the extra nasty bit, people thought that God would hint at who was destined for eternal salvation by favouring them with success in their earthly life.

So of course, people who belonged to Calvinist strains of Christianity ended up working as hard as possible to try and demonstrate their state of blessedness. Mix that into the cultural soup of the Industrial Revolution, and you have an extremely toxic recipe for the future.

This whole belief system has kind of evolved into what’s now called the Prosperity Gospel, which is a more aggressive focus specifically on the idea that God will reward you in not only Heaven, but your earthly life, with actual riches. Immortality in a paradise of fellowship amongst loved ones and a divine parental figure is no longer enough to satisfy people who are scraping to make ends meet.

John Steinbeck did not actually say, “Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” The thing that this popular misquote gets wrong is at least partly its attribution of blame. It has this implication that damn it, these poor people are just stupid and stubborn, or ignorant – if only they’d see what’s gone wrong!

That perspective glides over the extremely intensive propaganda efforts that have gone into making people believe that poverty is their own fault. After all, if you just work hard enough, you can be a billionaire too, right? Ignore the widening legal loopholes for transference of wealth, avoidance of taxation, and the inheritance chains of property, wealth, and privileged advantages that directly tie into chattel slavery and European aristocratic families, of course. It’s just about luck and working hard! Get on that grindset, girl!

Back to Failure

The thing about focusing on success and The Power of Positive Thinking, and other similar late-Victorian and early 20^th century self-help texts, is that it doesn’t really account for what the fuck happens if…you just fail. In The Secret, one of the more recent and deeply influential permutations of modern prosperity gospel, there’s a whole thing about “The Universe” wanting to reward you by giving you whatever you think about most. Of course, that means that worrying about failure will actually result in failure…because the universe is kind of stupid and bad at consent, I guess.

Perhaps, dear reader, you can see the direction I’m pulling you in. The logical corollary of the axiom that success = favour from God or the Universe…is that failure means God, or the Universe, is disappointed in you.

I haven’t seen this discussed much, but the idea lurks like an urban legend intruder beneath the bed, breathing and panting damply, evident but too terrifying to confront directly.

“Bad Things That Happen to You Are Your Own Fault”

People don’t say this out loud in exactly these words, but the implication sits there, and turns up constantly, just like that urban legend slasher. Even after #MeToo in the late 2010s, people still say and imply that one’s clothing or behaviour could have been responsible for sexual assault and harassment.

Not attaining the success you expected at work, missy? Clearly the problem is that feminism has failed, and it’s time to Retvrn to the (imagined) past mode of life. Be more…traditional. You want a family, don’t you? Wouldn’t it be relaxing to just spend time with your children at home while your husband takes care of things? All you have to do is the chores, and you already do those! Why work in addition to that?

This particular message is all over social media, popping up in different forms like mutating toxic mushrooms around the earthen cellar door where fascism dwells.

Never in this line of propaganda is there a discussion of, say, fertility problems. Despite the wide accessibility of fertility treatments in our current era, having any kind of trouble, say, getting pregnant or impregnating someone, still carries the sting of humiliation. Never mind the question of what happens if you find out that you can’t crack it as a parent *after* you have children, or the constant, pervasive fear every parent has of failing their child.

As mentioned, the dominant cultural milieu in the West is flavoured by both capitalism and Christanity. Both the wealthy and the super-wealthy benefit from having the broad working class focused on aspiration rather than justice. If people are trying to grind their way to the top, and fighting each other for scraps, they won’t target the people actually holding the reins of power and wealth. Furthermore, if people see wealth as a blessing from God or the Universe, poverty indicates either withholding of a blessing, or failure.

Failure and poverty are thus made uncomfortable housemates, necessary to each other. Any type of failure risks the danger of poverty, and poverty itself is a form of implied failure.

Let’s Make It Worse

So, this is pretty bad, right? Like if you take apart the idea that failure is always your own fault *and* a result of not being good enough for the Divine Parent (whether that’s God or the Universe), it’s pretty scary and daunting. It’s a damn hard standard to meet.

Now put that in the context of our panopticon society. Speaking of 19^th century morality that’s stabbing us in the ass, the panopticon was a prison design meant to allow constant surveillance of prisoners, to make sure they were reforming properly. Constant scrutiny and an absolute destruction of privacy is clearly the way to stop someone from hurting people, right? Of course, if we’re talking about people breaking the law, we should probably allude to that whole “poor people commit crimes because they’re poor” thing that tends to happen. So basically, if you surveil and shame people adequately, it should be possible to fix their unfortunate moral defect of poverty.

The best part is, now we have the thing where user interfaces on social media treat every person like a content creator, people feel both social pressure and algorithmic pressure to post regularly. Between the data exposure required for social media and actually posting stuff about one’s personal life, we’ve developed a societal system of self-exposure and peer surveillance.

Now, peer surveillance has always been kind of a thing – people have been up in each other’s business for as long as we’ve been social animals, and in fact, other animals are nosy, too. But the current mode of peer surveillance transcends previous social models. Before, you’d have to be seen or heard doing something you weren’t supposed to; your thoughts, at least, were sacrosanct.

But now we share our thoughts as well, and present the world with an entirely new path of judgement.

And, in a world where the middle and lower class are collapsing together, rather than forging class solidarity and focusing on our mutual opposition, we resort to cannibalism, in hopes of temporary catharsis and relief. After all, if we can root out the class traitors, the “Treatlers” who still order snacks from food delivery services, surely we’ll be able to defeat our enemies, right? Somehow, people bullying each other on social media platforms has failed to trigger the revolution.

How the fuck do we fix this?  

The thing is, this situation isn’t unfixable. In addition to plain compassion and critical thinking and asking ourselves questions – should I *really* repeat this or engage with this content? Am I being too harsh on other people? – we need to practice both self-compassion and compassion towards others.

This sounds extremely boring and un-fun, so if you find yourself with superfluous hostile or mischievous energy, direct it towards the real targets: people in power. You have a right to be angry for what they’re doing to us, so write angry, ferocious letters, make art, or find other creative outlets to express your anger. People in power are so much more fragile than we think they are. We should make them scared again. For legal reasons, I am not directly advocating violent action, but I am advocating protests and strikes, and whatever forms of disruption you can manage.

Harass politicians and political figures who are trying to strip your rights away. Cover for your coworkers when they’re sick or “quiet quitting”. Ignore shoplifting customers, especially if you’re a fellow customer. Buy food for homeless people (and also just give them money). Find out what your neighbours’ names are and actually say hi to them. Be nice to random people on the internet, especially when you don’t want to. And above all else, reframe how you see failure.

What failure really means

Not everything we try to do is going to succeed, but instead of seeing failure as the end of a story, see it as part of a cycle. We can’t learn what works without failures along the way. Like death, failure is an inevitability. Also like death, it tends to be terrifying until you actually encounter it, and realise that it’s an essential part of living. In various ways, we will fail over and over – so the trick is to see how long one can keep going before the next failure; as well as to stop treating failure itself as a moral judgement on everything about us in our lives.

This is hard, slow work, and sometimes being nice to yourself is harder than being nice to other people – so turn your compassion outward; towards friends, family, and strangers, even celebrities.

(Compassion doesn’t mean blind defense, but if you don’t know the difference, maybe go spend some time sitting with that before you yell at me. There’s your first lesson: stop wasting your time yelling at random people on the internet when you could be trolling and harassing CEOs of large corporations.)

With practice at turning compassion outward, it gets easier to ask, “Would I say this to my partner? My best friend?” when dealing with negative thoughts and judgements rooted in the Christian/capitalist paradigm.

The other thing to do with failure is to see the freedom in it. If you’ve already failed, you’re already “a sinner”, and “damned” – so what comes next?

Well, actually, anything you want. If you’re already lost, why not go further? Modify your approach. Find a new goal. Instead of waiting for happiness later, find small happinesses now.  Instead of longing to be a billionaire, or waiting for heaven, ask yourself – what were you hoping for from those things anyway? To help your friends? You don’t need a billion dollars to do that. Life only gets better when you realise that the metrics of success were impossible anyway. To quote a song I like, “we’ll never get to Heaven ‘cause we don’t know how.”

Now, do I actually succeed in living by all of these precepts? It’s a work in progress. But hey, the more I fail, the more I have a chance to try again.

***

A writer and artist, Michelle Browne lives in southern AB with xer family and their cats. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, knitting, jewelry-making, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find xer all over the internet: *Website * Amazon * Substack * Patreon * Ko-fi * Instagram * Bluesky * Mastodon * Tumblr * Medium * OG Blog * Facebook