I have recently come into a little money. Which is to say, a hundred people have in varying amounts given me some money. There are no strings attached to this money, other than my commitment to use it to write a book with. The problem is that I am not a book-writer. So I am going to be doing a lot of research, and I wanted to let you all know what my plan is, so far, with this money that is already there. I woke up this morning and realized that I have enough for a month and then some. So I can, three days after posting, think about how to get started.

First, you should know that an agent called. I have agreed to be represented, and she thinks that it's likely that I can write a book that a real publisher will want to fund. So I am using some of this time to write a proposal. She is being very patient with my absolute lack of idea about the thing I am meant to do. If I manage to become a real live author with an advance and everything, it won't happen for quite a while yet. If, however, the publishers pass on it, at the end I will still have a working understanding of what I need to get onto paper to make it all work. And so I am focusing on that for this minute.

I am going to the dentist. One of the reasons that I have simply never bothered with self-care is that I have this set of literal open wounds poisoning my bloodstream. I am infected. I am in enough pain that I am certain my liver is recruiting other organs in order to stage a coup for survival due to the ibuprofen and acetaminophen. There seems very little point worrying about the relative fitness of a diseased body. But if the disease is being treated, it's not a valid excuse anymore. To boot, the lack of visible and uncontrollable class markers like my teeth sort of undercuts my utter lack of care for the rest of my appearance. The nice thing about looking like you're on the absolute bottom is that nobody expects you to be wearing matching clothes. Clean seems to be about the only requirement, and even that's sort of negotiable. If you manage any sort of style people are impressed.

I have often laughed when people suggested that I try sleeping more or thinking about nutrition and exercise and said that I'd get right on that when money fell from the sky and I had time. Yeah, I know. It's like one of those fairy tales where I didn't exactly phrase it properly.

So I'm embarking on a little experiment. I will have the time, finally, to both accomplish the things I need to and also to cook food for my family instead of tossing a medley of frozen and canned food together and hoping that everyone agrees with me that it can technically be called dinner. I will be able to enforce bedtimes. I will sleep six solid hours every night and work out like people do. I will attempt to remember that I have hair before I leave the house instead of after.

And I will pay attention to myself, to the reactions both internal and external. Maybe this basic stuff really is the key, the reason that poverty is quite so trappy. Maybe if the headaches go away and I'm actually in a good mood more than once a month, I will find that I accomplish more. Maybe people will react to me differently. I don't know. I will find out. I want to see how the world works if you are not visibly poor and sick.

So I will write, and I will try to live like people have always recommended. I have the time for both now. Thank you for that. If nothing else comes of this, I will have, at the end of the magic, been allowed to recharge a little, and I will have a book. That I wrote. And that's all because of you guys.