I'm sorry. It's probably better if you don't read this, but I need to say it to get rid of it.

"She Wanted To Be In The Glass Menagerie, But She Wasn't Glass, So . . . ."*

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The other day I got an email from An Archive Of Our Own telling me I had to make a decision about a story I wrote a long time ago for Yuletide.

I don't belong to AOOO; I don't belong to anything. The last time this subject came up, I was called names by the supporters of AOOO, and ignored by the person in charge of Yuletide. I was in better shape then, and I got through it.

Now I just keep going through this vicious circle: We want your story. We want you to be a member so we can have your story, and any other stories you have. We do not want you. That's where I start crying and saying, "I don't blame you, I don't want me either. But I'm still not giving away my stories to people who don't want me. I have nothing of any value—because God knows I'm of no value—but my stories. I wish I was dead." I would contact the AOOO people, but why would they want to talk to me? And all I want to do right now is apologize—to everybody, for everything.


*Tim DeKay

Posted simultaneously on LiveJournal and Dreamwidth.