I hope this message finds everybody healthy and thriving despite, well, you know. Everything. I suppose it goes without saying that 2020 has been an extremely unsexy year for most of us. Let's see if maybe we can't at least close it out on a positive note.
As difficult as it was to hang up my keyboard and walk away from creative writing, going on hiatus a smidge over two and a half years ago turned out to be the right call. The latter half of 2018 and nearly all of 2019 set me up against a series of challenges that kicked my ass eight ways from Sunday. I found myself trapped in the job from hell, floundered through a doomed relationship, lost one of my pets, nearly lost both of my parents, completely lost my sanity, lost money, lost hope... Trying to maintain any kind of regular writing schedule throughout all that would've likely accomplished nothing except piling even more stress onto a heap that already succeeded in driving me back to therapy and very nearly turned me into an alcoholic.
Forgive me if I'm bringing the room down. This is the part where I have to recount being stuck in a tree and pelted with rocks. All standard second act crisis stuff necessary for our eventual happy ending.
So last New Year's Eve was a pretty big deal for me. I danced on 2019's grave with enough vigor to leave Beyoncé winded, utterly elated that the Worst Year Ever was behind me. And sure enough, some things did improve. I began excelling in the new job I'd gotten after ditching that old one I hated so intensely. My relationship finally came to its inevitable conclusion in a way that, while still sad for both of us, managed to free me and my ex from increasingly draining obligations and allowed us to return to a platonic friendship in which we're both far more comfortable. My therapist helped me navigate some rocky emotional ground to arrive at a place where I began feeling optimistic for the first time in months. I even joined a gym and rediscovered how good it feels to get regular exercise. Despite some minor setbacks, 2020 was on track to be the year where old wounds began to heal and the best road forward finally came into view.
Then March rolled around and—surprise! It's the fucking apocalypse! :D
Lesson learned, 2020. Never trust a year bearing gifts.
Granted, it hasn't been all bad. I was lucky enough to be deemed an essential worker, so the income has been reasonably stable despite the pandemic. I also have a strong network of close friends I've been able to stay in contact with for some much-needed socialization when most forms of human contact seem to be off limits.
Something else also happened earlier this year. To my surprise and delight, I developed the urge to start writing again.
I never did stop writing completely, but the sessions I managed were typically unfocused, infrequent, and took the form of short-lived bursts that produced either poems or informal essays (usually political opinion pieces I had the good sense to refrain from posting online). Getting back into fiction felt like the difference between splashing in a kiddie pool and diving head-first into the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The sheer exhilaration offered the perfect reminder of why I started writing stories in the first place. Hunter S. Thompson was right on the money: no other high touches the rush of creation.
As I gradually accumulated stacks of fresh pages, I also realized how much I've come to miss sharing stories with others. The furry fandom has been particularly rewarding in that aspect. I've met a lot of great people and gotten a lot of immensely useful feedback on the work I've posted on this site and elsewhere.
With that in mind, I'm excited to officially announce The Cumback. This project signals my return to active status within the fandom as well as a rebranding of all my existing uploads across every furry media site where I post work. That stylized 'D' in the teaser image is my new logo—you'll be seeing a lot more of it. You'll also be seeing more new updates from me, new commissioned artwork in my galleries, and of course brand new stories, each and every one of them thoroughly saturated in thick, gooey, sexually explicit lusciousness.
One of the reasons I decided to dip my tail back into this particular creative pool is because my goals with writing have changed. Full disclosure: My future uploads are not going to be tied to any kind of regular schedule. I tried that in the past, used every conceivable technique to push myself through creative burnout and keep churning out new stuff long after it stopped being enjoyable. Now that I've abandoned any aspirations of turning furry smut into a career, I have zero motivation to abuse myself like that again. From here on out, I'll be writing solely for the pleasure of it. And while that will mean less frequent postings, it also means each new story will receive my preferred amount of polish instead of being exhaustedly tossed out into cyberspace ten minutes after I decide I'm sick of revising it.
And speaking of polish, what would an announcement for a new media project be without the rehashing of some legacy content? My perpetually-aroused jackal is looking better than ever thanks to stunning new repaints of these images courtesy of original artist Tlapa. Devlin has been further imbued with new levels of swagger in a fresh revision of my story Backroom Deal. I never was totally satisfied with the original version, and I think this update marks a significant improvement.
I'm also celebrating our hard-fought escape from 2020 with an expanded rewrite of Year's End. This one has long been a favorite of mine, even though I'll be the first to admit that the original version contained some pretty clumsy exposition and cringey dialogue. A lot of care went into this revision, so please give it a look.
Of course, I'm aware that existing material given the next-gen HD collection treatment is never as exciting as having something truly new and original to delve into. To that, I simply ask that you bear with me just a little bit longer. The fruit is almost ready to pick.
For anyone who has endured the wait thus far, I offer my very sincere and heartfelt thanks. The hundreds of you still subscribing to watch my various accounts obviously have more faith in my tenacity than I myself had at points in the very recent past. Or maybe most of you just plumb forgot I existed (perfectly understandable). In that case, I hope the sight of this journal makes for a pleasant surprise. After the year we've had, I feel like we could all use a few more of those.
