So.

Yeah. That happened.

I am, like many of us outside the states, trying to support shocked and grieving American friends, particularly those who are very real targets for the supremacists and fascists emboldened by Trump's victory. I don't want to take up the space they need to process and react, however they do, but I do want to say one thing.

It's difficult to imagine anyone who enjoys my work enough to subscribe to this newsletter is a Trump voter, but let me be clear just in case: I don't understand why you did it, and I don't forgive you. Whatever the issue was, whatever made you think a vote for this malign, incompetent, vicious, criminal liar was worth it, I don't care. You have endangered many of the people I love. I forgive you no more than I would if you'd handed him a loaded gun and waved a permissive hand.

In my part time job in New Zealand, I work with young people. Among others, I work with queer and trans youth, teenagers from refugee families, people of colour, and young women--roughly half of the people I see are young women. They're all trying to find a path after high school, a future worth striving for. My job is to help them explore the possibilities and work towards those futures.

In my other job - this one, the writing one - I write stories about self-determination and honesty, courage and love, and people, particularly women, trying their best to live good lives, where they are good to others and themselves. Of course there's also funny banter, hot sex, fun with tropes, corporate intrigue, and the occasional murder, but that's the moral and political core of my work.

I am going to keep doing my job - both of my jobs.

Goodness knows, there's work to be done.