I’m a novelist who writes dystopian, apocalyptic, and crime fiction. My current income from over 40 books is far less than I made from far fewer books in 2011. I have to be honest, though. I can’t be mad about it.
Most of my readers are from the United States, where health insurance premiums are shooting up. Disposable income is down. It’s spiraled into a dystopian nightmare where Nazis write their own warrants to bust into homes. Children are getting kidnapped by government agents. Innocent people are assaulted and incarcerated without due process.
You’ve seen the video of a gaggle of ICE agents murdering people in Minnesota while gaslighters from the federal government libel the victims and tell you not to trust your lying eyes.
Reading novels isn’t the priority right now. Protesting, justice, and a general strike are top of mind. This is not to devalue art. It’s a sad acknowledgment of what is. I see you. I care. Yes, fiction can act as a wonderful distraction from ugly reality. Novels transport us. I love putting movies in your heads. That’s not the mood many are in right now. I get that, and I am sincerely sorry for all you’re going through.
My hope is that sanity will return. My wish is that all of you will be safe. My worry is that, though the chaos is concentrated in Minnesota at the moment, you are all in danger. One day, this will all be over. As the famous book title goes, one day everyone will always have been against this.
In the meantime, please stay as safe as you can.
