Home is also knowing that family, blood or made, is there for you no matter what, and you're there for them. Both my parents are former Marines. There were many points of my life where my father was pulled away because of his duties. But we never felt neglected or forgotten, he's a great man and father. My mother is, and has always been, awesome as hell. She showed men how to be Marines back when there were very few women in the military period. Anything that is good about me came from my parents, who defied their families and put up with more heartache and pain than anyone should ever have to endure.
I'm a flake, I'm melodramatic, I'm focused to the point I often come off as cold and/or selfish IRL. I've been called a cold-hearted bitch by people I called friends. Sometimes they're nice enough to call me abrasive or mean instead. My siblings have put up with more shit from me than they ever should have had to, and I love them more than life itself. My parents should be declared saints.
Then there's Sasha, who is the partner in life I never thought I would have. HS and college were hell for me, sexually and romantically speaking. I've never been interested in sex in my life. I didn't know how weird I was until I started realizing that what I felt (or didn't feel) wasn't how the rest of the world felt. I tried boyfriends, always to my misery, and I was unintentionally a jerk to a few of them. It's hard realizing that you just don't feel what other people feel, don't feel what's taken as normal. Nevermind my histrionics and insecurities, my scatterbrain propensities and what feels like a hundred other things that make me unbearable to deal with in my own head. But at my absolute lowest, I got an email from someone who said 'I know exactly how you feel' and now we've bought a house and are planning to get married next year.
And then there are my readers. Once upon a time I posted a dumb story called Rainbow. I was terrified. I knew it was stupid, I knew I'd get zero comments or a bunch of comments telling me how awful my story was. But I've always been a baptism by fire individual, and I knew if I was going to be an author the only way forward was this first step, so succeed or fail I posted it.
That was more than ten years ago. It's kind of crazy to think about. Ten years is a lot and yet nothing at all. I got comments, people started following me on LJ, I went from someone depressed that her friends were succeeding while she was failing miserably to someone who seemed to be doing okay at the one thing she never thought she'd actually be able to do: writing. It was the kind of dream I didn't want to admit was a dream because I just assumed I couldn't do it.
But I've done it, and every follow, email, tweet, and like along the way has meant more than words can ever express. I'm not wealthy, I'm not famous, I wouldn't even say I'm popular. But I get emails and comments that say 'you helped me get through a bad day' and that's all I ever wanted.
So the TL;DR here is that I am grateful for the parents that did not smother me with a pillow every time they should (my nickname is Monster, if you want to know how hellacious a child I was), I am grateful for the siblings that grew up alongside me, I am grateful for the woman putting up with six cats with me, and I am grateful for the friends and readers who have helped me make it this far. I thank you all.
Megan is a long time resident of LGBTQ romance, and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she's not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers, and can be found all over the internet.
In the spirit of gratitude and giving, I'm offering an advance copy of Tournament of Losers to one lucky winner ^_^ Giveaway wraps on December 31st.
All Rath wants is a quiet, peaceful life. Unfortunately, his father brings him too much trouble—and too many debts to pay—for that to ever be possible. When the local crime lord drags Rath out of bed and tells him he has three days to pay his father's latest debt, Rath doesn't know what to do. There's no way to come up with so much money in so little time.
Then a friend poses an idea just ridiculous enough to work: enter the Tournament of Losers, where every seventy-five years, peasants compete for the chance to marry into the noble and royal houses. All competitors are given a stipend to live on for the duration of the tournament—funds enough to cover his father's debt.
All he has to do is win the first few rounds, collect his stipend, and then it's back to trying to live a quiet life…