Rachael Herron

(R.H. Herron)

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Happy Sober Birthday To Me (my story)

Rachael, one year soberOne year ago today, I wrote in my journal, “I am an alcoholic.”

Then I wrote, “F*CK.” You see, I’d been writing in my journal for months about how I couldn’t be one (because that’s what non-alcoholics do – ha!).

Reasons I couldn’t be an alcoholic:

1. I’d never gotten a DUI.

2. I’d never lost a thing, not a house, not a car, not a relationship, not even my phone or wallet.

3. I’d written 20+ books to critical acclaim.

4. I didn’t drink in the morning. I rarely drank in the afternoons.

5. I didn’t get the shakes on the few days that I didn’t drink.

6. I hardly ever blacked out.

7. I just really liked wine, that was all.

8. No one in my life thought my drinking was a problem (not even my wife or closest friends).

9. I could MAKE myself have just a glass or two (when I out, when I had to drive).

I was good! I was fine! I wasn’t an alcoholic! I’d told myself that for so long I almost believed it. Until I couldn’t believe it anymore.

1 year sober

Alcoholism came on me fast.

I’d always been a GOOD drinker. I could outdrink most of my friends, including Irish men. I loved to drink but only on the weekends. I could NOT drink if I needed to. Then in 2016, I quit my day job of 17 years, and said to myself, “Self, you’re 43 years old. If you’re not an alcoholic now, you’ll never be one! You can totes have some wine every night, like normal people do. Bottoms up!”

So I started having a glass or two of wine every night. Within 2.5 years, it was a bottle and a half (or more) every night. Every single morning I woke up and said I wouldn’t drink that night. Every single night brought an excuse that made it okay for me to break that promise. I was tired. I wasn’t tired. I was happy. I was sad. I had something to celebrate. I had nothing to celebrate. ANYTHING was an excuse. I tried to give myself rules. No more than 12 drinks a week. Nothing but wine. Nothing but beer. Nothing but celebratory Scotch and only when I’d earned it. Never drink alone.

Nothing worked. I was a boring drunk, and just drank till I got sleepy every night. (This is what I called what I was doing. But really, I was just a control freak who could time my passing out every night precisely to bedtime.) I drank a little before Lala got home from work and opened a “fresh” bottle of wine when she got home as if it were an idea I’d just come up with.

I COULD NOT STOP.

I made a solemn vow to myself in my journal to get help if I couldn’t keep my drinking to 12 units of alcohol a week (this is considered heavy drinking for women, but it was what I was okay with). A shot is 1.4 units. A bottle of wine has 10 units. I was drinking a bottle to a bottle and a half on normal nights, telling myself it was 4-6 drinks. It was actually 10-15 units per NIGHT.

After I almost tanked a work thing at a prestigious writing conference because I was too hungover to remember what I needed to do, I hit my personal bottom, but only because that’s where I stopped digging. I was emotionally and spiritually bankrupt. I was holding the whole world on my shoulders, and I hated the person I’d become. I lived in a fog of near-constant self-loathing, a self-hatred that I disguised so well that the people nearest me didn’t know who I really was or how I felt.

I admitted in my journal that I was an alcoholic for the first time at 9am on February 20, 2018. I was in my first recovery meeting three hours later. Alcoholism had come on me fast, in less than three years (or we could argue that I’d had it all along, and it didn’t bloom until I drank more often).

The first three months of recovery were grueling. The last year has been challenging. It’s not easy. But it’s pretty damn simple. I go to meetings. In between, I don’t drink (or use weed or sleeping pills, other crutches I’d used to numb myself).

And it’s been, literally, THE BEST YEAR IN MY LIFE. Not because everything’s gone right – no. A man died underneath my hands as I gave him CPR after he was struck by a car. A relative I loved killed himself. We had to go into our savings to pay the bills. I worked too much and didn’t make enough money. BUT I DIDN’T DRINK. I was present. I felt my feelings (which I didn’t recognize – I couldn’t remember feeling feelings as an adult. This is all new to me, this sitting with what’s going on and just being with it). I’ve made so many close, sweet, necessary friendships that I can’t imagine not having. I have a community of people who love me as I am, a community I love.

Most astonishingly and most importantly, I’ve come into contact with something greater than myself.

I can’t name it, nor do I want to. I certainly don’t ascribe to the idea a bearded God who watches from on high, but the universe has folded itself around me in love, and I know there’s something out there.

Meditation and prayer are a part of my daily life, giving me so much sweet relief. I use Tarot as a way to see into my subconscious, and the cards often make me laugh, like they did this morning, as I asked the cards (which I believe are ordered by that same universal Higher Power) to tell me what today would mean for me. I drew Death (a wonderful card, the symbol of complete transformation, the leaving of an old way of life behind and the start of a new one) and the Three of Cups (the card of community, celebration, friendship, and creativity, all the things I’ve found in sobriety). I laughed in joy as the cards showed their gorgeous faces.

Death and Three of Cups, Sobriety

I’m a new person.

I’m more grateful than I’ve ever been. It’s one day at a time, and the time I’ve been sober doesn’t actually matter, but I’m choosing to honor this day that reminds me of where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m going.

(If you’re in need of help, please reach out to someone, to me or to another trusted person. Not a single one of us can get sober and stay sober alone. I love you. I see you. I am you. We are everywhere (you’d be surprised), and we’re holding you in the light.)

PS – I’m not actually admitting I’m part of any of the recovery groups that depend on anonymity for their continued success. I’m just suggesting such groups are out there, and that they might help some people. And maybe I got a 1-year chip from someone whose name I will not share but is a person I love. 😉

Uniform Project

The uniform project is great so far! I’ve been carrying out my mission to not have to think about my clothing since about mid-December (I always get big ideas at the end of a year and then I can’t resist starting early).

The project is related to my #DepthYear that I’m focusing on this year – saving money and staying close to home and the things I already have. Know what I have a lot of? Black dresses.

I LOVE black dresses. I love LBDs that are barely decent and long heavy dresses that make me look like I’m escaping a cult. I like clingy sexy V-neck dresses and wide tent dresses. If it’s black and somewhat fits, I like it.

(Well,  most of the time I like all black dresses. I actually sent an email to Wool&, offering to take them up on their offer of a free Rowena dress if you would document wearing it every day for 100 days in a row (wash and dry overnight when needed, which wool needs less than other fabrics). They sent me one. Sadly, I did not like it at all. I’m a 44 chest, and it’s not made for ladies with ladies. It looked more like a too-short, ill-fitting tunic. I sent it back, with regret. I was TOTALLY going to brag my face off about getting a free $128 dress and wearing the same thing for 100 days in a row. But nope.)

I just have one rule:

Until the heat of summer, when I’ll start wearing my lightweight summer dresses, I’m wearing a black dress/tunic every day.

I can dress it up or down any way I like. This is me the other day in layers.

Rachael's Uniform Project

The leggings are actually polka dot and the boots are Frye shimmer boots, but the picture doesn’t pick up on the AWESOMENESS of that combo. (I’m not allowed to buy new things this year, but that’s okay because I have so many great things already due to the online shopping habit that got me to the point of needing a uniform project).

Look, I just feel better when I look like a Unitarian witch skating on the edge of toddler-grandma style. Dresses are COMFY. You never have to suck in your belly! (Nor should you anyway! Your belly is soft and rad! We love your belly!) The only time I’m not wearing this uniform is when I’m at home or working out, when I’m in leggings and a T-shirt.

The uniform project makes me feel great. I finally feel like myself ALL THE TIME. I’m sturdy in my boots, unknockoverable. My belly is round and happy. My calves are happy. My body is mine. 

And no one notices I’m wearing (almost) the same thing every day, because people don’t care what you wear. They really don’t. So sweetheart, let yourself be your favorite kind of you.

Rock the Boat

Y’all, I wrote another book.

Rock the Boat by Rachael Herron

 ROCK THE BOAT BUY LINKS:

Amazon | Kobo | iBooks | B&N | Google

Jake’s story was SUCH a long time coming. I feel I owe this sailor an apology. When I started the Ballard Brothers, he was the one I really wanted to get to — I was in love with him, and the idea of him sitting on his boat docked in the Darling Bay marina, waiting for love.

But I got busy writing other things, and other genres trumped romance for a while.

Now he has his story, and his happily ever after. It’s funny to come to a book with the male half being the important one, at first. I usually start with my female characters. So for Jake, I had to think of someone smart enough and strong enough to be a good foil for him, but also someone grounded enough to provide him with the roots he’d always lacked.

Zora is that character. I love her passion for gardening, and for the kids she teaches, and most of all, her inability to zip it when other people might keep quiet. She says what she means, kindly, but without apology. I love that in a woman.

I hope you enjoy the story. I know I enjoyed writing it (no, THAT IS A LIE. It was a struggle to write. Some books come easy, some come kicking me in the face all the way through. But the revision was smooth sailing because then I knew what their story had to be).

Viva love!

Money, Honey!

Hello writers!

Every year I write about what I make money-wise as a full-time author. I do this for a few reasons, but the biggest one is that there’s always been a veil of secrecy around how much writers make. You can find stats, but they’re anonymous. Many times, I say that I’m a full-time author with two dozen books out, and people think I’m rolling in the dough. And honestly, I AM, truly. I can afford to pull my weight with our San Francisco Bay Area bills. My wife provides our insurance. I’m SO lucky! We have enough to live on, and then some. (Focus this year: SAVINGS! See previous blog post.)

But if you’re imagining unlimited wealth without reason, well, no.

[My darling – if you haven’t finished your book yet, try hard not to take any of this to heart. WRITE THE DAMN BOOK because you love it, not because you’ll make money with it. Only after it’s good and revised should you start hoping and working for moolah. That said, read on!]

I’m a lucky outlier. The stats are bleak. Writing has been devalued by the glut of product on the market as self-publishing opens the doors for all to write (and I mean ALL to write). I honestly think this is a great thing. Want to have your voice heard? Write it. Put it out. May it fly from the virtual shelves, dear writer.

That said, I didn’t drop out of Economics in college twice without learning at least one thing: as supply goes up, price goes down. That’s how it works.

Supply is up, way up. There are many discerning readers who are looking for OUR beautifully crafted novels, but there are also many more not-so-picky readers who will read and enjoy things that aren’t, say, as lyrical as yours or mine, and they’re happy reading what they’re reading. God bless. That’s also the way the market works.

What to do? Friends, ignore the market. Write what your heart wants to write, what spins you out at night while you’re lying in bed trying to sleep. Write what freaks you out and makes you shiver with bliss. Make it breathe with your passion. When you’re done writing the book, done revising it at least once, then consider the market. You can then shape any book into a genre from which you can try to gain interest, either from an agent or from readers directly. Write with passion first, then edit with an eye to marketing.

Remember: PEOPLE STILL BUY BOOKS. Even a tiny niche of an audience in a sub-genre of a sub-genre is enough to supply you with the income you need if you work your ass off. I do believe you need to work your ass off, though.

For a depressing read, you can read the results of the Authors Guild Income Survey for 2018 that came out three days ago (all quotes below are taken from it). It takes into account self-published writers as well as traditional and hybrid (it was a huge group push by a ton of professional groups, including the Author’s Guild, RWA, MWA, ITW, PEN American Center and many more. If you’re part of a pro group, you probably took the survey–I know I did).

Rather Bleak News

Overview, midlisters (like me) and literary writers are feeling it the worst, and are “on the edge of extinction.” CHEERY!

Amazon and traditional publishers’ focus on blockbusters is a combo that is punching us all in the face (and I will keep popping up, personally, hoping to be struck at some point with the magic blockbuster wand. Fingers crossed! I can take a lot of hits, don’t you worry. I’m a jack-in-the-box with good lipstick).

Royalties are down across the board.

The median income for all authors surveyed was down to $6,080. Median income based on just book-related activities was down to $3,100.

For full-time authors: “Median income for full-time authors for all writing-related activities, however, was $20,300 in 2017, up 3% from 2013. Note, however, that is still considerably lower than the $25,000 median income full-time authors earned in 2009.”

Self-published authors as a whole still earned 58% less than trad-published authors (and romance writers still do better than anyone else). “Note that the median 2017 author-related income of $10,050 for self-published romance and romantic suspense writers is almost five times higher than the $1,900 median author-related income for the next highest-earning self-published genre category of mysteries and thrillers.”

Holy shit, I AM LUCKY. Here are my numbers, in handy-dandy graph form.

What Does a Full-Time Author Make? Rachael Herron spills the beans.

My best year ever! I’m up 17% from last year, which was, in fact, my target goal, as I’d made 17% more in 2017 than in 2016. Next year’s goal? Approximately 17% more = $100,000! Will I hit it? I have no idea. Publishing money is crazy, yo. I can work my ass off and try to predict things and still get it wrong. We’ll see.

EVEN MORE

If you want more details about what I made this year, here’s my annual money podcast, with a year’s roundup (or grab the episode on audio wherever you listen to podcasts).

My main takeaway from the survey and from 2018?

MY GOD IT’S NOT EASY to be a full-time writer. Or any kind of writer, really. And that’s before money even comes into it.

That said, writers are a special breed. We’re more stubborn than anyone else in the world. We DO NOT QUIT. (Okay, some writers quit, but those are writers and you have a capital-W in front the kind of Writer YOU are, don’t you? I know you do. You want this. YOU CAN HAVE THIS.)

Bottom line: Show up. Do the work.

“Getting the first draft finished is like pushing a very dirty peanut across the floor with your nose.” – Joyce Carol Oates

Keep pushing the fucking peanut. You CAN do this. No one gets it easily. It’s hard won, and it’s worth it. Keep me posted.

Onward!

xo, Rachael

A Year of Buying Less

A year of less cait flanders I just read A Year of Less by Cait Flanders, and I loved it. I originally picked it up because I love books on minimalism and clearing clutter, but this one is truly about money, not clutter. I didn’t know I needed it, but I did.

She put into place a spending ban for a year, and her whole life changed.

I’m going to do something similar in 2019, and here are my personal rules (subject to change! but not at a whim so that I can buy a new blender or something):

Woo - A Year of Buying Less - an experiment with Rachael Herron

MY BUYING LESS RULES

Do Buy: 

  • Consumables that I regularly use like food, vitamins, cosmetics (only eyeliner, mascara and lipstick of the kind I use now), shampoo, cleaning products, etc, only replacing what I run out of, no trying new products.
  • Objects I use that need replacing (after trying to fix, borrow, or get secondhand).
  • Gifts for others
  • Travel expenses, including vacation if we take one
  • Work expenses, including Patreon experiments
  • Meals out (or delivered), no more than once every two weeks

Do not buy:

  • Clothes, shoes, accessories.
  • Books, magazines, notebooks, etc. (I have enough of all of these, and the amazing Oakland library will order almost anything I request if it doesn’t have it already.)
  • Yarn, fabric, craft supplies, art supplies.
  • Household items, decor, appliances. (This is where I spend the most. I justify that it’s for “us.”)
  • Electronics.
    (On this list, I can replace what wears out/breaks if it’s regularly used and I can’t fix or borrow a replacement. I will look for a used replacement first from a thrift store or CL. This includes the very remote possibility I use up all my yarn and/or fabric. HA. As if.)

Wobble Zone:

Things that I suddenly believe I need (not just want) that I’ve never had before. I will put these into a 30-day time out zone. If I still want them 30 days later just as fervently, I might purchase them new after making sure I can’t get them used. I AM NOT A SAINT, PEOPLE.

My goal:

Ever since I quit my day job in 2016, my goal has been not to dip into our emergency savings. Breaking even was what I wanted for the first few years. But this year we have $3k less than we did when the year started. Unacceptable! I want to save for a rainy day. Our 90k debt (oh, yes, friends, I do understand if you’re in deep debt) is gone, accomplished by working two jobs for 8 years (so together we had three jobs and threw all our money at the debt). Now, once we’re done building a six-month emergency savings (currently only at 2.5 months), I want to put money away for our retirement.

How I’ll do it:

I’m moving $250/month to that savings now, as of this month. That will make up that $3k loss. Everything I want to buy and think I would have bought in 2018 and do not buy, I get to put that money in savings. Woo! Seriously, I’m excited about doing that!

I’ll be writing about this process for my Patreon essays this year, as I seek less of a material focus in my life and put more focus on mental, emotional, and spiritual growth.  I’m going to be exploring weird things I don’t understand or believe in, for fun. I tried to look at that shelf in B&N last night and could barely handle it. CRYSTALS, REALLY? Oh! I’m allowed to spend money on this pursuit, like palm readings or astrologers, etc. The book is tentatively called Woo!

Oh! Lala is not in on this, nor am I trying to make her jump on board. She makes way more money than I do. I don’t get to make her rules.

I AM REALLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS.

(Want in or to play along? Pledge a buck a month and get access to every essay I write, including the 24 back essays that comprise the last two books!)

On Covers, Proofs, and Colds

(Oh, damn it! I wrote a post yesterday but it never posted, apparently. I didn’t win NaNo. I revised a book instead. I’m happy with that. There, now you’re caught up.)

I’m in bed. It’s gray outside, and I’m fighting a cold. Wait, why do I say that? The cold has me—I’m not fighting it. I’m reminded that I haven’t gotten my flu shot yet and won’t be able to until I’m well. Damn it.

Dozy is under the covers resting against my calf, lazily licking one paw. None of our dogs are people-lickers, which I appreciate, but I like the feeling of her whiskers brushing against the top of my foot every few seconds.

I’ve gone back to bed for the morning, and gratefulness fills me that I’m able to do this.

Those are proof pages for STOLEN THINGS.

And check out my amazing cover! 

Oh! I have a new website!  Go look at my scary thriller face with lots of eye makeup. And check out my new GORGEOUS cover for the new book (out in August, which is a long time away, but you can preorder it now so that you don’t forget to!). And follow me (RH Herron) on Facebook and Twitter and signup for that mailing list so you get all the notifications and so that I don’t feel so alone in the world over there as a newly-named writer!

Anyway, back to proof pages. This is the very last time I’ll touch this book. The edits are done, big and small. The copyedits are done. This is the book laid out as it will appear to you, and I need to go through it and make sure each word is as good as I can make it (while keeping changes minimal, as changes are expensive for my publisher to make at this point).

Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be with Dutton (Penguin)? My editor Stephanie Kelly is a dream. I love working with her, and she also works with Kitten Lady, so she has amazing taste. The head of the art department  reads each book before working on the cover, and it shows. Dutton is a small imprint within a mighty publishing house, so I get the boutique attention with power behind it. (I am so very, very lucky.)

And it’s going to be in HARDCOVER. My first! I gotta tell you that when I learned this, I was gobsmacked. My book. A hardcover. I guess it feels like it’s taken seriously enough to be hardcover, which isn’t what it means—it’s a financial decision by the publisher, nothing more. But for my writer’s ego? Ah, the ego likes this stroke.

I love this book. I love the fact that I have a cold and that I get to work on it for the last time while in bed. Clementine is now also on the bed, looking regal. I’m warm. And I’m grateful.