Today is the day after Release Day. I’m still riding high from seeing my book available for sale (and holy shit, some people actually bought it!) and I’ve been celebrating by… well, by doing nothing different actually. I go to my real life human job, I go work out, I come home and hang out with the fam, I write and read (ridiculous amounts of fan fiction) and I go to bed.

I haven’t celebrated this pretty significant milestone in my life because no one in my life has any idea that I’ve published a book.

And yeah, it’s because I write what I write. Gay stuff. Sex stuff. The blood and murder stuff is generally okay, but not the sexy times. I haven’t told anyone in my family (aside from that really nice guy I live with, and my lifelong, super-understanding BFF. They can’t rat me out because I have dirt on them, too.)

Frankly, I haven’t told anyone because I’m not ready for that Conversation. It’s taken me a really freakin’ long time to figure out who (and what) I am and despite that, despite the relief from finally having come to peace with myself, I’m really not ready to be, you know. Out.

And it’s weird because I live in two entirely separate realities. There’s my normal, day to day life, which is lovely. But then there’s my secret life, which includes writing and reading fan fic and m/m and talking with people on Tumblr and has so much to do with culture and diversity and you know what? I’ll just say it. No one in my real life has any idea what an OTP is and they don’t know what Sterek means and they have no idea how much of my life involves thinking about gender and bodies and how our gender relates to our bodies and how lonely it can get when you live in your own private world.

Sorry. I ramble. Anyway.

Yesterday at work one of the older guys was bitching about having to take some garbage to a landfill, but he didn’t want to take it to the local one. You know why? Because there is a trans woman who works there.

But he didn’t call her a trans woman, of course. He called her a sicko and said that “he” wants to go by a girl’s name now, and wear dresses and you know what? “He” ain’t even good looking. Because, you know, a woman is worthless if she ain’t purty.

This is what I mean. Two entirely different realities. One reality I stand there with my mouth shut and my fists clenched and rage and helplessness burning in my throat.

The other reality it wouldn’t have happened.

Or if it did, I would have had the courage to say something.

But to live two different lives, you have to keep strong fences.

So I’m celebrating my book release by writing tonight, by going back into my own private world that I hope someone out there enjoys reading about. People bought The Dead, after all, and hopefully they like it. I liked writing it.

I like living here.

-Cal