Do you like reading pornography? Do you like super weird pornography set in Los Angeles? That you can read completely for free? If so, you should read my new short stories up at Anarchic Candy (the website where I publish all my romance fiction free of charge, instead of selling it, and myself, through an industry I despise). There's one about a mermaid and a failed screenwriter doing porn, there's one about a boy with a very strange garden in a canyon, there's one about a TV writer and a group of entities up on an old historic building in Downtown Los Angeles. There will be more, when I write them. They'll probably be even weirder. Some of them are true. They're all interconnected, too. You'll see what I mean.

Also there's COMEBACK, my novel that several super legit literary agents wanted to publish! It's about a has-been, rumoured-to-be-drug-addicted former teen superstar and her make up artist going on tour together. It's not pornography (though there is sex in it), but it is fun! And sad. And gay. And an indictment of the modern age. But in an entertaining way!

Download them all, for free, from Anarchic Candy.

How is the end of your year?

Please tell us an eel fact

"There's a kind of eel that no one knows where their spawning grounds are. It is a big scientific mystery and they've never been able to figure it out."

what killed the rat king ghosts?

"Nothing. They are still there, to this very day." - Maybell Marten, October 19th, 2023

I am offering some very beautiful and useful divination decks for barter on Instagram, if anyone is looking for that sort of thing but doesn’t like to buy new items.

some (non-Mabel-related) news

I went to a bookstore.

It’s a beautiful bookstore, maybe one of the world’s perfect bookstores. It sells used and new books, and there are comfortable seats and beautifully-curated collections created by the people who work there, people who obviously love books, and there are nooks and crannies and secret rooms and areas for children and art and bathrooms and no one will bother you if you want to wander and read first chapters for three hours, which we did. I bought a signed copy of a Caitlín R Kieran book for four dollars. I loved being there.

I also hated being there. This bookstore is Instagram famous. A solid fifty percent of the customers were influencers. They blocked aisles to stage photos. They pretended to read in the most aesthetic poses, with books whose covers complimented their outfits. There was an entire section of the store dedicated to “Book-Tok faves”. I tried to read some of these books, and found them unilaterally depressing - not because of their subject matter, or even because of their shocking lack of copyediting, but because of the clear and heartbreaking hoops each and every author so obviously had to jump through in order to sell their work. The game, as my wife put it, they all had to play. Social media. Followers and likes. The cultural capitol of diversity points. The apologism for lack thereof.

For the past year I have been writing romance novels. I’m going to be painfully honest about the three reasons I’ve been doing so: first, because I’m good at it (I’m a fast, skilled writer); second, because I like romance novels; and third, because I wanted money. I believe in the sanctity of art but also in the bills I have to pay. I wrote these books in a way that meant I would not be ashamed of them, nor of my attachment to them. They are not deeply, religiously personal, like HETTIE AND THE GHOST, but they are about flawed and damaged people trying as hard as they can to find one another, and that is a story-arc I will always stand behind. Also? They are funny. And I write good sex scenes. They are good books.

For the past three months I have been working towards publishing them. It’s been going well. I have had some meetings. Of the twelve literary agents I queried, three have offered representation. I have enough familiarity with the publishing industry to understand what this means: my work is considered marketable enough that I could, with a lot of work but with definite feasibility, make a career from these novels.

Here’s the problem. It’s come to my attention that I hate this industry. I hate the pandering, the reduction of story down to audiences and trends. I hate the “elevator pitch”, I hate the lack of ethics and environmental consideration in printing mass quantities of books, I hate advertising and marketing myself and making sure that I am palatable - just queer enough, just marginalized enough - to sell rather than put off. I hate participating in a system that I fundamentally despise; I came up with Cantrap Press’s barter system because I hate it. On a long journey home at night, surrounded by suburban sprawl, I realised that I couldn’t make this my career. It would drive me insane. These stories will not change the world but all stories are alive and to pinch and snip them into shapes palatable enough so a Big Publishing Company can successfully pimp them to a world of Book-Tok influencers sounds, to me, like a living nightmare. I won’t do it.

But: I have another problem. I do believe with all my heart that art should be accessible. At the same time, I also believe with all my heart that artists should be fairly compensated for their work. Running a small press is a wonderful and worthwhile endeavor, but it is a labour of love, like putting out a podcast entirely for free. It’s also a labour of money, and the rising costs involved mean that I wouldn’t break close to even if I were to print these books myself.

So what’s the solution? Here’s mine. I’m giving them away. I’ve done this before, and it felt like the purest form of myself. The books will be, always, entirely free to whoever wants them, under the domain of a Creative Commons License. There will be a donation button. You can pay what you like for them, pay what you think they’re worth, pay what you can afford, or pay nothing at all. No pressure. No judgement. My barter policy will apply to these, too, if you want to compensate me but don’t have the funds. I’ve come to terms with the fact that refusing to play the game means I’ll never make a lot of money from these books. I may not make any at all. But these are my beliefs. I have to abide by them. I’ll be able to look myself in the eye; you’ll get fun fiction for free.

In a post-apocalyptic society maybe I’d be riding a donkey around the countryside telling stories, and you’d repay me for my skills by making sure I had enough turnips and deer jerky and tinder and donkey medicine. Instead I’m a person who lives in a house with electricity and gas bills. The farmers I buy my vegetables from at the market deserve to be repaid for those vegetables and the weight of labour, capitol and resources they represent. I don’t resent anyone for their participation in the system. I resent the ever-tightening ropes around us all. The ways we are tracked and compelled and sold to, the advertisements masquerading as entertainment, and worse, as art, how it seems we are being moved increasingly towards a model of consumption as definition, but only under very specific umbrellas - four companies own all stories, now what will you buy to define yourself by their characters and worlds? If I choose not to participate, no company can own my stories. And now, neither can you.

Introducing Anarchic Candy.

And my first book to be released, COMEBACK.

PS: in a twist of fate that, as my wife put it, would be completely unbelievable if it appeared in a story, one of the agents who enthusiastically offered representation also represents the author of one of those Book-Tok-famous books I saw at the used bookstore. This didn’t make up my mind (I’d already made up my mind before that agent even contacted me) but it’s an ironic coincidence I really can’t ignore.

some (non-Mabel-related) news

I went to a bookstore.

It’s a beautiful bookstore, maybe one of the world’s perfect bookstores. It sells used and new books, and there are comfortable seats and beautifully-curated collections created by the people who work there, people who obviously love books, and there are nooks and crannies and secret rooms and areas for children and art and bathrooms and no one will bother you if you want to wander and read first chapters for three hours, which we did. I bought a signed copy of a Caitlín R Kieran book for four dollars. I loved being there.

I also hated being there. This bookstore is Instagram famous. A solid fifty percent of the customers were influencers. They blocked aisles to stage photos. They pretended to read in the most aesthetic poses, with books whose covers complimented their outfits. There was an entire section of the store dedicated to “Book-Tok faves”. I tried to read some of these books, and found them unilaterally depressing - not because of their subject matter, or even because of their shocking lack of copyediting, but because of the clear and heartbreaking hoops each and every author so obviously had to jump through in order to sell their work. The game, as my wife put it, they all had to play. Social media. Followers and likes. The cultural capitol of diversity points. The apologism for lack thereof.

For the past year I have been writing romance novels. I’m going to be painfully honest about the three reasons I’ve been doing so: first, because I’m good at it (I’m a fast, skilled writer); second, because I like romance novels; and third, because I wanted money. I believe in the sanctity of art but also in the bills I have to pay. I wrote these books in a way that meant I would not be ashamed of them, nor of my attachment to them. They are not deeply, religiously personal, like HETTIE AND THE GHOST, but they are about flawed and damaged people trying as hard as they can to find one another, and that is a story-arc I will always stand behind. Also? They are funny. And I write good sex scenes. They are good books.

For the past three months I have been working towards publishing them. It’s been going well. I have had some meetings. Of the twelve literary agents I queried, three have offered representation. I have enough familiarity with the publishing industry to understand what this means: my work is considered marketable enough that I could, with a lot of work but with definite feasibility, make a career from these novels.

Here’s the problem. It’s come to my attention that I hate this industry. I hate the pandering, the reduction of story down to audiences and trends. I hate the “elevator pitch”, I hate the lack of ethics and environmental consideration in printing mass quantities of books, I hate advertising and marketing myself and making sure that I am palatable - just queer enough, just marginalized enough - to sell rather than put off. I hate participating in a system that I fundamentally despise; I came up with Cantrap Press’s barter system because I hate it. On a long journey home at night, surrounded by suburban sprawl, I realised that I couldn’t make this my career. It would drive me insane. These stories will not change the world but all stories are alive and to pinch and snip them into shapes palatable enough so a Big Publishing Company can successfully pimp them to a world of Book-Tok influencers sounds, to me, like a living nightmare. I won’t do it.

But: I have another problem. I do believe with all my heart that art should be accessible. At the same time, I also believe with all my heart that artists should be fairly compensated for their work. Running a small press is a wonderful and worthwhile endeavor, but it is a labour of love, like putting out a podcast entirely for free. It’s also a labour of money, and the rising costs involved mean that I wouldn’t break close to even if I were to print these books myself.

So what’s the solution? Here’s mine. I’m giving them away. I’ve done this before, and it felt like the purest form of myself. The books will be, always, entirely free to whoever wants them, under the domain of a Creative Commons License. There will be a donation button. You can pay what you like for them, pay what you think they’re worth, pay what you can afford, or pay nothing at all. No pressure. No judgement. My barter policy will apply to these, too, if you want to compensate me but don’t have the funds. I’ve come to terms with the fact that refusing to play the game means I’ll never make a lot of money from these books. I may not make any at all. But these are my beliefs. I have to abide by them. I’ll be able to look myself in the eye; you’ll get fun fiction for free.

In a post-apocalyptic society maybe I’d be riding a donkey around the countryside telling stories, and you’d repay me for my skills by making sure I had enough turnips and deer jerky and tinder and donkey medicine. Instead I’m a person who lives in a house with electricity and gas bills. The farmers I buy my vegetables from at the market deserve to be repaid for those vegetables and the weight of labour, capitol and resources they represent. I don’t resent anyone for their participation in the system. I resent the ever-tightening ropes around us all. The ways we are tracked and compelled and sold to, the advertisements masquerading as entertainment, and worse, as art, how it seems we are being moved increasingly towards a model of consumption as definition, but only under very specific umbrellas - four companies own all stories, now what will you buy to define yourself by their characters and worlds? If I choose not to participate, no company can own my stories. And now, neither can you.

Introducing Anarchic Candy.

And my first book to be released, COMEBACK.

PS: in a twist of fate that, as my wife put it, would be completely unbelievable if it appeared in a story, one of the agents who enthusiastically offered representation also represents the author of one of those Book-Tok-famous books I saw at the used bookstore. This didn’t make up my mind (I’d already made up my mind before that agent even contacted me) but it’s an ironic coincidence I really can’t ignore.

Hope you are well, whether my question gets picked or not I hope you have good days.

the few times I got a glimpse of the readings they���ve always been intriguing, I’m hesitant since I don’t know if I’m wording it well, but here goes :)

I’m scared about my dog’s health, I’ve kept up with everything that’s been popping up but now I feel I’ve made one specific issue worse through inaction out of fear and money. I know who to take him with once I finally have my car back. Was I too late? Will he make it through?

I know I need to leave my comfort zone if I need more money (mostly for him, his meds, his new diet, the bills I know will be fairly big), but fear has had such an oppressive hold on my whole life, i struggle with knowing how to break out of this pattern?

You need to find a way to get your dog seen. As far as I can see he will be all right, but please don't put all your faith in divination when it comes to serious health concerns. There is always a way, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.

There is no secret for breaking out of a pattern of fear and anxiety. The results come from doing. You just have to make the choice to push yourself, wade through the discomfort, do it again, do it again and again, and keep doing it, until that becomes the new pattern. It's unpleasant. It's relatively thankless. But it has to be done.

I believe, truly, that there is no pattern of behaviour or synaptic channel that we are incapable of changing. We are boundlessly adaptable, no matter the age, no matter the situation; it just requires more work and determination and stubbornness than most people are willing to expend. Everyone in the world contains within them the possibility for change. It's just that most people won't do it. But you can. You are absolutely, entirely capable.

Growth sometimes feels poisonous, corrosive. If it's this hard, if it feels this bad, we tell ourselves, can it actually be good for us? Answer: yes. It can. It is. Work with it. Don't give up.

Sending my best wishes to the madra. I hope you're able to get him seen quickly, and that he's feeling better soon.

I’ve had a truly awful 2023 so far. I’ve had to repeatedly deal with my abuser in shared spaces and my artistic work is failing to find an audience despite my est efforts. Can I expect things to get any better during the second half of the year?

I am very sorry to hear that you've had a rough go. Artistic work can take a dishearteningly long time to produce any kind of notable results. Trust me, I know.

Is the second half of the year going to get better? Genuinely, that is up to you. Is there a particular goal you want to achieve with your art by a specific point in time? If so, why? Can you view this as a year of growth rather than aiming for a specific kind of achievement? Learning what you can about the systems we have in place to sell and promote art, and most importantly, honing and perfecting your craft (I say perfecting, but all artists know their work will never be perfect. It's an endless journey. That's part of the terrible charm). This is not going to be the year you achieve perfect public success. It's not. But success is measured in many different ways. If what you're doing now is making you more unhappy than fulfilled, consider different routes. You don't have to take them now. You don't have to take them, ever. But you are in control of where and how you allocate your energy. If the grind isn't doing it for you, give yourself space to reimagine.

You may not be in control of when and where you're forced to interact with your abuser. But you can give them as little as they deserve. Grey rocking will deny them negative attention and reserve your energy for yourself. Give yourself support and care. This reading is clear: this level of interaction with them won't be permanent.

Something clear throughout the cards I've pulled is the need for balance. Balance between creativity and self-promotion. Balance between work and rest. Balance between ambition and patience. Balance between seeking and letting be. Try and strike a path through the middle of these extremes. No magical thing is going to happen to make the rest of your year perfect, but you can do these smaller things to make your own life easier.

Aster here =) There is some relief here for me in being able to ask you a question again, as I trust the way you navigate through the world and the ways in which you experience it, so thank you for being here!

Quite honestly it's been a rough almost-three months. A former colleague of mine (I don't dare call them a friend, since we never established that type of relationship) disappeared on me despite very strong intent from them to stick around. I don't take well to being/feeling abandoned like this, but I also love them like the sun loves the horizon, like bones love the heart, and that is a truth in me that I cannot silence. There is truth here and I am not one to turn away from such things, but fuck this is also incredibly difficult

My question is, how do I navigate this? I've been stamping around so much trying to figure this out that the waters are now all muddy for me, and I'd appreciate an outside perspective

Hello, Aster! First of all, thank you so very much for the tip. I hugely appreciate it, and it is more helpful than you know.

As for your reading.

I'm so sorry it's been a rough few months. This is the truth: those who deserve your love don't disappear without warning and without explanation. Before you can work past this, you need to acknowledge the unfair fact that this person may not be worthy of the breadth and depth of your feelings for them. Sometimes there is a tendency to double down in moments like these - I love them deeply, therefore they must have been worthy, therefore there's something wrong with me, I am somehow at fault here, and if I just...understand better, give them more time, give them my patience, perform correctly, say the right things, do the right things, then they will reappear in my life and confirm their worth.

Another truth: feelings can be wrong sometimes. I'd go so far as to venture that feelings are regularly wrong. There is enormous freedom in understanding that emotions are not infallible, that they can absolutely be given attention and weight and never repressed or pushed aside, but they don't have to be our single guiding light. Sometimes we feel personally victimised when what we're really experiencing is the impersonal injustice of the world; sometimes we can be convinced in our hearts that our friends are angry with us when really they're just tired or busy; sometimes the people we love aren't worthy of the purity of that love. There isn't necessarily a deeper meaning to it. You love because you have a vast capacity for love. You heal when that love is abused or misplaced.

And you navigate this the way you navigate any trauma: by giving yourself time, by being honest with yourself, by turning your attention and your focus elsewhere, and by allowing yourself to grow through this. Sometimes people are fickle or thoughtless. Sometimes they make promises they can't keep. Sometimes we misinterpret their intentions, or the sincerity of their intentions. All of this may be painful, but I promise it is not an injury you can't recover from.

This feeling won't last. Some further advice? Try to distract yourself. Give yourself an outlet for your emotions, and then choose to move your focus elsewhere. Try not to dwell. I know it's not easy, but it will get easier. Everything always does. You're worth much more than this.

- Sometimes we have hard days. Is this a hard day for you?

- as ever, tipped questions get top priority.

- first ten questions will be answered.

- thank you to everyone who has sent in tipped questions in previous sessions! We take your tips to the farmers market. The farmers are kind and we get to eat strawberries.

Send me your questions.

i could never be american because whenever I get a big drink I'm like oh great now I have to drink this big drink. i have to take care of this big drink they gave me. everything is terrible in the world

Hiya! If you get around to my question I hope I word this correctly, it's a bit complicated; internally for me, mostly. I suppose it could be clear as a box on the exterior.

I feel like I'm not in the world. Like I'm supposed to be things that aren't possible equations or my life is not stringed as it's supposed to-- out of tune. It's a cacophony of swirling ideas. So really to answer everything is-- Why?

Why am I living like this?

You’re not out of tune. There is nothing wrong with you. You can see through facades, that’s all. There are certain lies on which we balance the world, and you can see through them, and it makes you feel disjointed and out of sync with everything. You are as you are, as you were meant to be. Honestly, I believe the solutions that will help you are magical solutions. Like: various rituals of self protection, various explorations of the nature of reality and its connection with other places. Are you interested in magic? Alchemy? The world of spirits, the worlds beyond ours? There’s a lot for you to explore. If you are interested, I can offer you some starting points.

As I try to leave my childhood home, I feel torn between the urban and the rural worlds. How do I know which path is better for me at this time? Thank you in advance if you're able to answer!

I can’t tell you which you should choose, but I can help direct your search. Ask yourself these questions: where do you feel like you’ll be able to rest better? What do you crave? When you imagine the word freedom what does it look like? If your body was a house what would it look like? What do you need to work, to focus? What makes you unhappy in your surroundings - overstimulation or lack of activity?

I feel like there's a constant battle in my mind about my steadfastness in my queerness, political standing, and support needs, the fact that my parents aren't accepting of these, and the wish that that will change.

My question is: will it become easier? I'm planning to leave in two years but it feels like this chafing makes attaining that goal much harder, as well.

I’m so sorry you’re in this situation. To be honest: your parents will not change. What that means to you is your choice, your experience. Accepting the truth about people, especially loved ones, can be exhausting, difficult, and devastating. It will get easier, if only because in the future - how far in the future depends entirely on you - you will understand your place among the emotional orphans of the world. This sounds harsh. I wish there was a kinder way to put it. If you tell someone how to love you best and they consistently refuse, the unkind truth of the matter is that it’s up to you to navigate the fallout. Those of us who are emotional orphans (term I just made up for the very unfortunate fact that sometimes there is nothing parental about our parents) often struggle with acceptance for a long time. Sometimes I still do. But you will find yourself mothered and fathered by other things - the world, your dear friends, your past self, your future self - and you will be able to define yourself in your own terms, away from this. Have faith that this will change. You will find a home for yourself, among those who see you as you are. If anything, let this be your impetus to move on. You deserve so much more.

I would love a free reading. Any advice about re-approaching a community I feel at odds with would be welcome

1. Be polite but honest. Don’t apologise for your opinions or beliefs. Don’t misrepresent yourself.

2. Look to your past experiences. What made you feel at odds with these people? How can you prevent or work through this? Have a game plan, so you don’t fall into a similar pattern.

3. And if you do, be prepared to find community elsewhere.

4. Know that finding commonality can be a complicated thing, and not necessarily something you won’t have to work at. You’ll have to decide if this is worth it for you. Know, also, that you can be a community builder, too, if for whatever reason this particular situation isn’t for you. You are never trapped into accepting poor treatment from others.

Will the project I’m working on be successful?

Ultimately, yes. But it is going to be a real terror to work through. Don’t give up! A lot of the problems you’ll face will be related to your own insecurities, or feelings of inadequacy. Don’t let them stop you. You’ve got a vision. You can’t buy that.

I can’t connect with my friends comfortably in the way they seem to do with their friends, what am i doing wrong?

Try not to overanalyse. Everyone approaches things differently, and you never know what anyone else is really feeling or experiencing, not from the outside. You aren’t doing anything wrong; if you want greater connection, open yourself up for it. Are you afraid to be vulnerable? Is there a reason why? Do you on some level believe that if your friends were to truly see you they would see some great flaw? Again: you aren’t doing anything wrong, and nor is there some massive defect in your character. Try to let yourself relax more into your interactions with friends. You’re friends with them, presumably, because you enjoy their company, you like them, you find them funny or compassionate or interesting or any combination of those and more. Just enjoy those aspects of your relationships with them. Explore any self-esteem issues that would lead to you seeing yourself as flawed. Those feelings aren’t based in reality. Connection is there. You’ll find it.