books

2025 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books

K.A. Doore

Welcome to the 2025 list of queer adult science-fiction and fantasy books!

If you’re new to this dance, this list and the ones before (see: 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019) are my answer to every, “Where are all the queer/LGBTQIA/QUILTBAG adult fantasy and science-fiction books?”

The list is sorted by publication month. When possible, I included the specific queer rep, along with any side characters. “Queer” here is used as the inclusive umbrella term for anyone on the LGBTQIA+/QUILTBAG spectrum. The representation on this list is gleaned from reviews, readers, and the authors themselves and, even though I try my best to get it right, sometimes I get it wrong. I only include books published with a publisher, who are distributed on more than one platform, and had pub dates, as I have to draw the line somewhere or risk being overwhelmed.

Additions and changes can be found in a change-log at the end of this post.

And with all that said, on to the queer books!

Continue reading “2025 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books” →

Cup of tea on a white saucer against soft linens
Life

Mid-Spring Check-In

K.A. Doore

I’d meant to get back to sharing updates here on a regular basis and I suppose once per season can be considered regular. I’ve been busy, using every extra minute that’s not parenting or dayjobbing or generally trying to stay sane on finishing and then editing catastrophe!WIP.

Oh hey, how’s that going? Let’s check in on the progress of this Half-Life meets D&D horror fantasy (sci-fi? [def queer]), now with 50% fewer plot holes, 80% more consistency, and 100% snappy chapter titles:

Working Title: catastrophe!WIP

111,233 / 110,000 words

What’s that? It’s done? And off to beta readers already? And I still don’t hate it? Hahah, success!

In other versions of success, I’ve also been keeping up with my reading. Here are some of the books I’ve read and loved since last time (January):

Between Dragons and Their Wrath by Devin Madson
I flew through Madson’s REBORN EMPIRE series so I knew going in I was going to love this, yet somehow I was still not prepared! Three POVs balanced perfectly with a wonderfully original setting would have been enough of a sell for me and yet somehow Madson also weaves in several intriguing political plots and wild plant magic. Plus worldbuilding that’s so exquisitely layered without being overwhelming that still hints to long history, several deep and varied cultures, and a simmering tension between them all? Basically, everything I love about fantasy somehow in one book. I am waiting (im)patiently for the sequel, which I will likely devour just as fast.

House of Dusk by Deva Fagan
This one was an ARC – it comes out in August. A high fantasy that initially gave me Redwall vibes, since the protagonist is a former soldier who now spends her days in an Abbey’s garden. And like in Redwall, her horrible past isn’t really past and the monsters she’d rather avoid eventually come to mess things up. I loved that this book had an older female protagonist who actually acted and felt like she was older, as we don’t get as much of those in fantasy these days. Wise and scarred by her wisdom, all she wants to do is erase that past; but of course its that past that will end up saving her.
There are also gods, undead, creepy corpse brides, and fire magic, which all come together in a satisfying way. Check this one out in August!

Everybody Wants to Rule the World Except Me by Django Wexler
Also an ARC, but out in May. Sequel to How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying which last year was the most fun I’d had reading a book in way too long, and the follow-up/conclusion did not disappoint. A typical portal fantasy with a twist: the protagonist isn’t just genre-savvy, she’s stuck in a time-loop and learns from her mistakes. Whereas the first book leans heavily on its RPG/gaming roots, the sequel explodes more typical genre tropes. I don’t know what else to say without spoiling both, but they’re a fun, refreshing, occasionally raunchy, definitely irreverent read.

What have you been reading lately? Any faves?

Life

This Is a Post About Bread

K.A. Doore

I have successfully made bread multiple times this January, despite being a self-described failure at bread in the past. And now I can teach you, too, how to bake a simple loaf of bread. Just follow these easy instructions and you’ll be well on your way to maintaining a semblance of sanity making tasty bread.

First, stop getting your news from social media. Install a browser extension that hides images of the incoming administration and changes his name to something hilarious, like Authoritarian Gingerbread Man or President Ball of Hair and Dust Mites Clogging Your Vacuum, so you have a brief moment of levity before moving on from whatever horrible doom that sentence was leading to.

What are you going to idly scroll through now, though, when you need a brain break? What about a bread forum, where people share their recent loaves and their expertise around baking? They have a novel-length FAQ that takes you several days to fully read, but hey, now you know about autolyse.

You also now know that every bread starts with the same four basic components:

  • Flour
  • Water
  • Yeast
  • Salt

    • You learn about the “no knead” technique, which is really just letting the water and flour rest after mixing so that certain enzymes break down the gluten in the flour and do half the kneading work for you. This is autolyse in action.

    You find a pretty basic recipe to start with:
    4 1/2 to 5 cups (540g to 600g) Bread Flour
    1 2/3 cups (380g) water, lukewarm (90°F to 110°F)
    2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
    2 1/2 teaspoons (15g) table salt

    In a large bowl, mix together the bread flour, water, and yeast until it starts to come together. Cover it with a towel or plastic wrap, set a timer for 20min, and try not to scroll Reddit or TikTok or Whatever Your Social Media of Choice is. In fact, take this time to un-install those apps from your phone.

    Try not to think about the dozens of executive orders issued in those first days that will disrupt and dismantle the country you’ve struggled all your life to improve, through voting and protesting, through talking to your neighbors and family, through donations, through your writing, through the simple act of being an informed citizen. Don’t look up an analysis on the ways this will hurt people, regardless of who they voted for. Try not to catastrophize about the climate, the projection that in the next 50 years, it will no longer freeze where you live. Try not to worry about your children’s futures under authoritarian rule. Try not to—

    Oh look, it’s been 20 minutes.

    Now here’s the tricky part: kneading the dough. There are as many ways to knead dough as there are bakers, but after watching a video where a nice middle-aged lady shows you her method, you think you can do it.

    Dust a clean surface with flour, roll the dough out of the bowl onto that surface, and begin stretching and folding the dough. You’ll want to smack it around and alleviate some of the fear and anger bubbling in your chest, but resist: the dough needs a gentle hand, not an abusive one. Kindness is needed now in this moment, more than ever.

    For the dough, of course. Of course.

    You’re looking for a smooth consistency, for the dough to come together and eat off all the sticky bits of itself it initially left on your palms and fingers. A properly-kneaded dough cleans up after itself, leaves the surfaces it has touched clean. A properly-kneaded dough is like any responsible enjoyer of nature: pack in what you pack out.

    A properly-kneaded dough has more civility than some folks you could name.

    When the dough is ready, it’ll dimple where you poke it and stretch for a little bit before tearing. Do not poke it too roughly, do not stretch it too far. The dough will rise for you if you are gentle.

    Let it rise for 30min to an hour, depending on the temperature. It should double in size.

    While it rises, write down three actionable things you can do. Volunteer in your community. Donate to your local food bank. Reach out to friends and acquaintances just to let them know you remember them, they haven’t been forgotten, that they matter. If you have privilege – if you’re straight or cis or white or male – brainstorm ways you can use that privilege to protect others. Check out Americans of Conscience for up-to-date actionable items without the panic or hyperbole.

    Once you have a list and the dough has doubled in size, you’ll gently push on it to release the air bubbles. Previous instructions used to include punching the dough, but accumulated wisdom suggests that a turning and folding strategy makes for a stronger structure that will better hold together when the dough meets the heat of the oven.

    Now it’s time to let the dough proof again, for another 30min to an hour. During this time you can begin washing up, or you can listen to a podcast about native bees, or you read the Simple Sabotage Field Manual by United States Office of Strategic Services.

    Gather the dough one last time, plop it onto a parchment-paper covered baking sheet or a baking stone, then fold it into the shape you prefer: round or oval or elongated.

    Pre-heat the oven to 475F. If you have a cast-iron pan, place it on your bottom rack; any sort of baking pan will do if you don’t have a cast-iron pan. Bring at least one cup of water to a boil.

    After your dough has rested in its final shape for at least fifteen minutes, slide it carefully into the oven, then add the boiling water to the pan and quickly shut the door. The steam will initially stop a crust from forming on the dough and allow it to rise even further than if it had been restricted by the crust. This rise is called oven spring, and it’s the result of a dozen interactions between yeast and gluten and water and dough and time and hope and once the dough is in the oven, all you can do is wait and see if everything turns out okay.

    Turn the oven down to 425 and bake for 20-24min.

    Resist the urge to check your phone and see what’s happened in the last few minutes. Let yourself rest as you let the dough rest. Drink some water. Pick up that book you’ve been neglecting. Or go back to the bread forum and read about how dutch ovens are pretty much essential to bread baking and then wonder if you need one, too.

    When the timer goes off, check first that the crust is a golden brown color before removing from the oven. If needed, you can bake for an additional few minutes.

    Remove the bread and let cool for 5-10 minutes. Slice into it after only 2 minutes because you’re impatient and can’t wait. Let a bit of butter melt into the warm piece of bread you’re holding, take a bite, and marvel in what a little patience and kindness can achieve.

    Share your bread with your family. Bake an extra loaf for a friend. Bring a loaf to your neighbor and ask them about their day.

    And tomorrow, instead of doom-scrolling, you’ll join the sourdough forum. Repeat as needed for the next 4 to 10 years.

    Cup of tea on a white saucer against soft linens
    Work In Progress, Writing

    Mid-January Check-In

    K.A. Doore

    *casually blows off the dust on this blog* How’s it going, y’all?

    I’ve been decrying the dearth of blogs once more, only to remember that: hey, I’m part of the problem. I used to blog a bit more here and elseweb, but life became busier and I became convinced whatever I had to say wasn’t worth saying. I’m not so sure the truth has changed on either of those fronts, but I’d love to pick up the practice again.

    For 2025, I set myself a daily practice of nibbles in lieu of any large goals or grand resolutions. Just little things I can do every day that slowly nibble away at a larger cheese–I mean, goal. One of those nibbles has been writing, and so far I have only missed one day, and that due to a plumbing emergency (don’t ask — just picture red-tinged water bubbling up between the floorboards and the alarmed squeals of small children). Despite sometimes only writing a meager 23 words, I’ve surpassed 9k this month. Sure, it’s for this weird little story that will likely never see the light of another’s eyes and remain hidden beneath the other forgotten files on my harddrive, but I’m having fun writing for the first time in easily two years and I actually believe I can finish this.

    And who knows, maybe the act of finishing something will be enough to break whatever this weird writing curse has befallen me (don’t ask — just picture red-tinged water bubbling up between my fingers). For now, let’s designate this one catastrophe!WIP, to helpfully differentiate it from catacombs!WIP and cannibal!WIP, my other two on-again off-again projects. I passed the 70k mark yesterday and foresee it being around 100/110k total, a lot like TPA.

    I guess it’s a Real WIP now. To that end, maybe I’ll hearken back to my pre-publication roots and do a little progress tracker for this Half-Life meets D&D horror fantasy, now with decommissioned rail systems, survivor’s guilt, and fun explosives.

    Working Title: catastrophe!WIP

    71019 / 100000 words

    My other daily nibble is catching up on all the books I’ve missed over the past 5 years being intentional about reading every day. I actually started this nibble back in August and it’s reaped rewards a dozen times over, but I wanted to continue it into 2025. It’s too easy to let the day slip away with work and necessary tasks and children’s needs, which is why I initially set out to read as soon as I woke up in the morning. That has slipped recently, and I’ve noticed my reading has slipped along with it. So back to the daily nibble, even if it’s just one page.

    This year I’ve already finished reading one book, Metal from Heaven by August Clarke. A vibrant, violent, and at times hallucinatory fantasy about workers’ rights, the slipperiness of utopia, and the sacrifices revenge demands. This book is an overall exemplar of all that’s amazing coming out of the fantasy genre right now, timely in a way that’s also timeless. I’ve already seen it mentioned as a contender for numerous awards lists and it’s absolutely deserving of the buzz.

    So yeah: starting the year off right, I’d say.

    books

    2024 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books

    K.A. Doore

    Welcome to my list of queer adult science-fiction and fantasy books published in 2024!

    If you’re new to this dance, this list and the ones before (see: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019) – are my answer to every, “Where are all the queer/LGBTQIA/QUILTBAG adult fantasy and science-fiction books?”

    I’ve been answering this question for quite a few years now. I almost stopped this year; creating and curating lists like this is time-consuming and there’s always the guilt when somebook falls through the cracks. I took a several-months-long hiatus from the list during the first half of the year when life became too much, seriously considered being done entirely during the second half of the year because wow, we’ve made so much progress since I first started tracking queer books in 2019, and then… November came, and with it, the U.S. election.

    And I realized maybe we hadn’t come so far, after all.

    The list is sorted by publication month. When possible, I included the specific queer rep, along with any side characters. “Queer” here is used as the inclusive umbrella term for anyone on the LGBTQIA+/QUILTBAG spectrum. The representation on this list is gleaned from reviews, readers, and the authors themselves and, even though I try my best to get it right, sometimes I get it wrong. I also only include books published with a publisher, who are distributed on more than one platform, and had pub dates, as I have to draw the line somewhere or risk being overwhelmed.

    Additions and changes can be found in a change-log at the end of this post.

    Continue reading “2024 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books” →

    Life, Uncategorized

    2023

    K.A. Doore

    First off, 2023 was a much better year in the Doore household than 2022. Last year was the year COVID finally caught up to us, resulting in multiple months of recurrent illness and a general feeling of blah. I had to cancel my physical attendance at the Chicago WorldCon, which I’d been dearly looking forward to, and the writing project I’d been working on since 2020 (hah) just dragged on and on and I felt like I’d never finish it. Plus, the parenting anthology that had also been conceived of in 2020 kept having hiccup after hiccup and nothing seemed to go right.

    But where 2022 was a year of slog and disappointments, a year where I felt ever more disconnected from my writing and the broader community, 2023 has been a complete turn-around.

    Which feels paradoxical, considering Twitter continued its downhill trajectory throughout the beginning of 2023, culminating in such a terrible — and toxic — user experience that I ditched the platform entirely by June. Enough other writers and readers had jumped ship by then that it was well worth it to let Twitter go. But, on the converse side, folks have congregated largely on BlueSky, largely on Discord, largely else-web, and while I miss having one place to find them all, there’s something newly invigorating about all these smaller, more lively communities. There’s less doom and gloom and more conversation.

    On that community side, I was also incredibly fortunate to get to go on a mini writing retreat in November with some other authors. Six of us converged for a weekend in chilly Minneapolis to write and chat and write and eat and write and just be. It was everything I needed rolled into a few days: not just time to write and think away from the pressures of parenting and dayjob, but time spent around other creatives, friends. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again until I’m blue in the face, but the writing community is the real joy of publishing.

    Community is also how I’ve been able to keep returning to the page, morning after morning, even when so many of those mornings have been interrupted by children or sickness or dayjob. Writing is such an incredibly lonely, isolating job sometimes–here I am, alone, ahead of the sunrise, just me and my words. Which is why something as simple as the 5am Writers Club–a group of writers united only by the fact that we are all awake and writing at 5am, whatever timezone that might be–has been extremely encouraging. Or the sprints I share with my authors’ chat, who cheer me on even if I only manage 20min, 40min, every morning.

    The key to longevity in this business is consistency, and the last few years have been anything but consistent. But with all that support, it’s been easier and even pleasant to keep trying. And slowly, the children are growing, the illnesses ebbing, and I’m able to string a few mornings together, and then a few weeks of mornings, and even 400 words a day adds up eventually.

    Which led to me finishing, if eventually trunking, one project early this year and then completely rewriting and revising a separate project over the summer. That’s two projects done after three solid years of being unable to finish anything. Two projects almost entirely worked on between 5 and 6am most mornings, most weeks, most months.

    I don’t know what 2024 will bring, nor will I dare try to guess. But if I can hope for anything, I’ll hope for two things: my quiet, 5am writing time, and my boisterous, wonderful writing communities. ❤

    books

    2023 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books

    K.A. Doore

    Welcome to my ongoing and somewhat-regularly updated list of queer adult science-fiction and fantasy books published in 2023!

    If you haven’t been around for my previous lists, this list and the ones before (see: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019) – are my answer to every, “Where is all the queer/LGBTQIA/QUILTBAG representation in adult fantasy and science-fiction books?”

    This is now my fifth (!!) year creating and curating this list and I have to admit, this was the most difficult year by far. The downfall of Twitter has made finding queer authors and books even more fraught. A once simple process of literal call and response has become sorting through publisher catalogues, review sites, individual author blogs, and what feels like thirty separate social media sites. That coupled with ongoing delays and last minute publication date changes has often made me wonder if my time is better spent elsewhere.

    But the current political climate is increasingly antagonistic toward queer existence, especially our trans friends, and with an uptick in book bans, challenges, and publishers’ infuriating acquiescence to anti-queer pressure, as well as the chilling affect on authors and editors from all three, it’s more important than ever to spotlight and celebrate queer books.

    The list is sorted by publication date. When possible, I included the specific queer rep, along with any side characters. “Queer” here is used as the inclusive umbrella term for anyone on the LGBTQIA+/QUILTBAG spectrum. The representation on this list is gleaned from reviews, readers, and the authors themselves and, even though I try my absolute best to get it right, sometimes I do get it wrong.

    Additions and changes can be found in a change-log at the end of this post.

    Now that all of that admin stuff is out of the way:
    Onto the list!

    Continue reading “2023 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books” →

    Good Riddance 2020, but with the 0 crossed out and a 2 scribbled in
    Life

    2022

    K.A. Doore

    First off, happy belated Winter Solstice! The shortest day is past and it only gets brighter from here*.

    Growing up in Florida, the winter solstice held little significance to me — winter days are bright and sunny, so why did I need to celebrate the light’s return? If anything, I celebrated the summer solstice with more gusto, as it meant the overwhelming heat would slowly (s l o w l y) recede.

    Now that I’ve lived up North, I understand that desire for light at a cellular level. The Solstice is an ever-returning promise, a hope that, even as your world gets darker, colder, warmth and sun will return. This too shall pass.

    You can stay literal with it or you can get all metaphorical about it, and the direction I choose largely depends on the year I’ve had. This year? This year, I need the metaphor. I need to know things will get better.

    First, the good: DON’T TOUCH THAT! a science-fiction and fantasy parenting anthology was released as an ebook in November and we have approved the physical proofs for a paperback release early January. I have held the book in my hands and, while this journey from idea in early 2020 to full physical realization in 2023 will have been a long one, I think it’s worth it. These stories are so desperately needed.

    But maybe next time three parents with fulltime kids and dayjobs shouldn’t be left in charge of a Kickstarter. 😅 TBF, none of us could have predicted the pandemic and that threw a wrench in everyone’s lives.

    2022 started out promising. It’s hard to feel anything but joy when you can go strawberry-picking in January, when little girls get pink teeth from eating berries and pink hands from the cold. We lost a chicken to the foxes and I had to hurriedly pen them in, but we haven’t lost one since. I was writing, if haltingly – but I had a proper plan to finish this story I’d been working on since 2020 by August. I stopped drinking alcohol in January and stayed dry all year. Cabin Girl was in Pre-K and we were all gearing up for Kindergarten in the fall. We went to the beach and Cabin Girl learned how to swim and we picked blueberries and I ran a 7k and we went to festivals and Baby learned how to walk, then run. I even weaned off my anxiety meds (with the blessing of my doctor). It was getting hotter, but the nights were still cool.

    Then 2020 finally came for us.

    My wife had a conference at the end of June and we struggled with whether she should go. Virologists, right? Of anyone, they’d be vaccinated. They’d wear masks. We were more worried about the flights than the conference, but my wife would wear a tight-fitting, high-grade mask from drop-off to her hotel room and she’d be fine.

    Except someone came to the conference with COVID, didn’t wear a mask, gave a big speech when their spouse was isolating for COVID upstairs in their shared hotel room, and proceeded to give everyone attending a fun little present. Including my wife.

    July 2nd we both tested positive, as did Baby Doore.

    COVID hit like a train. We had chills but no fever, couldn’t go from one room to another without getting winded, and food tasted awful — even coffee. We wore masks around the house and set up an air filter and somehow, Cabin Girl stayed healthy. But even though the worst of COVID only last 48 hours, the fatigue and brain fog persisted.

    I was out of commission for four weeks. I could perform basic chores, do some stuff at work, but every meeting felt like forcing hard cheese through a flour sifter; my brain could only process so much. COVID also wrecked my immune system and in the span of three weeks, I had a cold that became a persistent fever that became pneumonia. My goal of finishing my WIP by the end of August became impossible.

    October, November, life got a little easier, but while I was fully recovered, my wife kept dipping back into periods of fatigue and brain fog, which may or may not be COVID-related. Between that and a certain Baby’s sleep regression, my window to write got squeezed down to a sliver. I made progress, but…

    December is not over yet, so I can’t say for sure how this month will be, but I can certainly say the second half of 2022 sucked. 2020 snuck up behind us and stabbed us all in the back. We’re a lot more cautious — again — and it’s hard to feel hopeful when you’re exhausted and there’s no end in sight.

    But… that’s the point of the Solstice, isn’t it? At least the meaning we’ve collectively created. That even when it’s darker than ever before, the sun will still rise. We will get through this. It will get better. I have to hold that hope close. I have to hope that 2023 will be better. That it will bring its own challenges, but we’ll get through them like we have these.

    May the rest of your 2022 be restful and kind and may we find each other anew in 2023. ❤

    *Only available in the Northern Hemisphere. Happy Summer Solstice to those south of the equator, but now your days get shorter.

    books

    2022 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books

    K.A. Doore

    Welcome to my ongoing and somewhat-regularly updated list of queer adult science-fiction and fantasy books published in 2022!

    If you haven’t been around for my previous lists, this list and the ones before (see: 2021, 2020, 2019) – and the ones that will come after – are my answer to every, “Where are all the queer/LGBTQIA/QUILTBAG fantasy and science-fiction adult books?” or, worse, “only Young Adult (YA) has any queer representation.”

    This is my fourth year creating and maintaining this list and even with publication delays, stuck ships, and paper shortages, I’m delighted to share an even bigger list than before. Queer sci-fi and fantasy is here, y’all, and we ain’t going nowhere.

    The list is sorted by publication date. When possible, I included the specific queer rep, along with any side characters. “Queer” here is used as the inclusive umbrella term for anyone on the LGBTQIA+/QUILTBAG spectrum. The representation on this list is gleaned from reviews, readers, and the authors themselves and, even though I try my absolute best to get it right, sometimes I do get it wrong. Additions and changes can be found in a change-log at the end of this post.

    Now that all of that admin stuff is out of the way:

    Onto the list!

    Continue reading “2022 Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books” →

    Life, Writing

    “How’s the writing going?”

    K.A. Doore

    A well-meaning question that’s just as hard to answer. Sometimes I can truthfully answer — after a few solid 5am writing sessions — “good.”

    Lately… it’s more complicated. “It’s going,” suffices for both of us, and is equally true.

    But what I really want to say, and what no one has the time for, is that the baby was up for three hours on Friday night, so I slept in until 6.30. I had just enough time to finish one cup of coffee and open my laptop before I heard a tiny “mama Kai?” from the hallway. Cabin Girl is up. I tell her good morning and she sits on the chaise under the window and tells me about her dreams last night.

    Then I let her have her tablet so I can finish a second cup of coffee and try to write, but I can never manage the latter once she’s up. Instead, I make her breakfast (cracking egg, scrambled eggs), go to the backyard to put some plants in the ground, and then the baby’s stirring and it’s 8am??

    I get the baby dressed and snacked, I get CG dressed, and we’re on our way to get some bagels for my wife. I forget to wipe the dirt from my cheek, but someone helpfully points it out in line.

    A chocolate muffin for CG, bites of my bagel for the baby, we sit at a booth and I try to strategize the morning. If I can wear out both kids, I might have time to write while they charge in the afternoon. Should I try to make the plant sale at the Natural History Museum? Maybe they’d have the flatwoods plum I really wanted. But before I float the possibility of hey, plants! with CG, I get a text from a mom friend — can we come over for a bit? She’s still feeling out of sorts from the flu (that we gave her, whoops) and her sitter canceled.

    Of course! Soon I’m outside with four kids and a box of chalk but only the baby’s playing with the chalk; CG and her friend, 6, are in my car pretending to drive and the fourth child, 3, is sulking because she wants to go inside. What about a walkabout? “Yeah!!” shout the kids in the car and then there’s a rush to get shoes on.

    We walk to 6’s elementary school and back — CG will be starting there in just a few months and wanted to see where it was. The baby walks for a little bit, but his short legs simply can’t keep up with the older kids, so I strap him to my chest for most of it. 3 gets tired, too, so I put her on my shoulders for the last stretch. She squirms off just when we reach their home and all three older kids run inside together.

    I walk the baby inside and find the girls on their tablets already. I make popcorn for the girls and then hang out with the baby until it’s time to take CG to gymnastics. Her gym is packed, the busiest I’ve seen on a Saturday in a while. I bring the baby’s carrier because I’m not sure how he’ll be during the hour of gymnastics. CG runs off to warm up. I try to get the baby to settle in my lap, but he’s decided my lap is a slide. When I get tired of this, I put him in the carrier and bounce around and — oops, he’s asleep. Maybe he won’t sleep long?

    Nope, he’s completely out for nearly the whole hour of gymnastics. So that’s his nap for the day. At least I get to watch CG tumble and jump and flip on the bars — as well as run around, be silly, and ignore her instructors. Ah well.

    Home again and now both children are hangry. I give the baby to my wife and grab lunch and get CG fed. Then I tap out. I only mean to close my eyes for a few minutes and daydream of plot but I conk completely out instead. Whoops.

    When I rise, the baby still hasn’t napped and CG is putting together a puzzle in her room. I try to put together the pieces of my brain and realize we should probably offer to bring desert when we go over to our friends’ later. They’re going to feed us dinner, after all. I spend too much time trying to find the Best Dessert nearby while CG plays with the baby and oh shoot, we should’ve left already.

    CG is excited to see her friend, 5’s, house. CG and 5 start playing boardgames on the floor, the adults actually manage some conversation while corralling the 2 year old and bouncing the baby into a 2nd nap.

    Then we go outside and the baby learns how to crawl up the baby slide and sliiiiiiiiiiide down and he’s living his best life and 5 teaches CG how to use her (kid-friendly) bow and shoot an (kid-friendly) arrow, and my wife delights in all the plants they have and I delight in the hundreds of lovebugs and the kids try to fly a kite but just tangle themselves up and then their mom shows me all the grubs in their compost.

    Then it’s dinner time and two pairs of parents try to get two pairs of kids to eat. We end up trading off until CG and 5 had their fill and now they’re out front, playing with the neighbor kids. I lure them back inside with cookies. It’s getting past the baby’s bedtime, but the girls want to play one last boardgame, and then one last game. Fine, fine, but we have to go right after —

    And we do, with the normal amount of goodbyes and we’ll see you agains and no really, CG, put your shoes on.

    The baby is loopy. So are the mommies. We make it home, put the baby down only an hour late, and then work on CG. She’s tiiirred and dragging but we get her in jammies and in bed. When only one mommy is needed, I stumble into our room and fall face-first into bed, promising myself I’ll write in the morning.

    *

    The baby wakes up at 4.30. He’s just chattering, so I grab the monitor to let my wife keep sleeping and start the coffee brewing. He keeps chattering. I give him a bottle, change his diaper, he goes back to sleep. For 5min. Then he’s up and down, fussing but not really, and I’m trying to write, but not really, because is this the time his fusses turn to cries? It’s 6am and he’s still going so I hold him and pat him and rock him until his body is floppy with sleep. Now it sticks.

    I promised myself I’d go for a run this morning so it’s now or never. I put on shoes and headphones and head out the door. It’s a Zombies, Run! ending episode, so it’s all very exciting but also longer than usual.

    CG is up when I return — whoops, that was an hour — playing games with other mommy. I make breakfast just as the baby wakes up. We take our time getting ready as I coordinate with my sis-in-law about meeting up to go blueberry picking. Pack up the car, tell CG to get her socks on (“but where ARE my socks??” they’re in her room, they’re always in her room), pack snacks that will never be the right ones or enough, put ice in the water because it’s going to be hot, wipes, extra clothes, swim suits because maybe we’ll stop by the lake after?, which also means towels, CG’s floaties, goggles, flip flops —

    — and oh shoot, we were supposed to be in the car by now. We strap all the children in, doublecheck we have everything, grab that one last thing, and finally we’re gone.

    The blueberry picking place is well-signposted and soon we’re pulling in just as my SIL and parents get there. Baby goes in the stroller and CG’s already running off with her cousin, 6. The bushes are full and the berries are ripe and the two girls have Been Here, Done This, so it’s the first year I’m not holding CG’s hand and showing her which to pick. Instead, she’s two rows over, competing with her cousin. I get to pick all by myself and it’s… a little lonely, actually.

    With two fully capable kids and several adults, we soon have enough blueberries to last at least a week (in our house, anyway), and it’s getting hot and the girls are overheated, so we head in. But not without picking one last blueberry. No really, this is the last one. No, this is.

    The field owners brought in a shaved ice truck because they’re wise, so we settle down in the shade while the girls (and the baby) eat shaved ice. There’s a breeze and it’s not too humid and it’s a perfect moment of exhausted while loading up on sugar.

    There’s an animal sanctuary nearby and it closes soon! They have rescue pigs and cows and chickens and turkeys and goats and even a horse, as well as a new beehive that’s busy with activities. The girls head straight for the playground.

    After a little bit of cajoling, they’re getting overexcited about the pigs (“there’s a pig! THERE’S ANOTHER PIG!!11”) and a little freaked out by the turkeys. There’s even a tractor ride (“I SEE A PIG!!!”). Then we have to pry the girls off the playground again because it’s two hours past this baby’s naptime and he’s getting slap happy.

    The baby does not fall asleep on the drive back, which is probably for the best. I drop him and my wife off at home so they can both nap, then take CG the short distance to the massive pool at my parents’ apartments. There is Food and I am relieved I don’t have to figure out lunch. The girls eat all on their own and then play together on the floor and I have a moment where I just sit and stare at the wall for a while, the fact that I’ve been going since 4.30am catching up to me. My brain goes blissfully quiet.

    Then it’s Pool Time!! so we get the girls in bathing suits. Sunscreen applied, towels and floaties and pool noodles grabbed. It’s just me and grandpa and two little girls. Can’t be that bad, right?

    I forget that 6 can actually swim and soon I’m being attacked below by one child and attacked above by the other. We play keep away for a bit, where I’m the thing being kept away, then I get grandpa to come in and play with them so I can just ,,, float.

    The water is a bit cold, because nights are still mild, so when the clouds roll in, both girls start complaining. We rinse off and head back for ice cream — grandpa has special color-changing spoons and it breaks the girls’ minds — and then CG’s cousin has to leave because school tomorrow and I’m fading faster than cheap hair dye.

    We’re home again and now it’s a race to get the baby to bed and CG in jammies. I manage to help with dinner and putting the baby down a second time, and then I’m done. It’s barely 8pm and CG wants to do a puzzle and my wife tells me it’s ok, she’s got this, go to bed.

    I’ll write in the morning, right?

    *

    “How’s the writing going?”

    I want to say all the above and more. That in theory I have the time, that I have the drive, that I have the want. That I plan on writing every morning. And I do…. sometimes.

    And to be fair, not all weekends are like this. Sometimes both kids sleep in until 8am. Sometimes I run away for a few hours to a cafe with my laptop.

    My WIP sits at 60k on its fifth rewrite and I hit my goal of 500 words more often than not. But the days that are “not” often look like the above and then Monday morning I’m riding a weekend hangover and still have to dayjob.

    Like with the baby years, this won’t last forever. I can’t deny I’m not envious of those writers who can take a whole weekend to stew on their plot, to badger their characters, to rustle up complications. But I love this life and wouldn’t change it for the world. 

    “How’s the writing going?”

    “It’s going.”