M.R. Robinson
@mruthrobinson
MR, she/her. scholar, author, editor · poster of too many dog photos · Clarion West ‘25 · VP2024 · stories at BCS, Lightspeed, GigaNotoSaurus, elsewhere · co-founder of @othersidespec.bsky.social 🪐🗡️🌈
One distant peal of thunder and the world’s bravest boy starts doing the Psycho scream.
Really long day for Wilf (he spent nine hours believing he was the one driving the car).
Now I’m comparing these to the first photos I ever took of Wilf in a yard full of flowers and feeling very emotional—back when the Summer Prince was the most terrified boy in all the world, back when I said things like “oh, we’re just fostering him.”
The Summer Prince DOES seem to have some minor concerns but, you know, heavy is the head that wears the crown.
I’ve been pretty offline this past week thanks to an excess of life events, haven’t managed to post many updates, but I guess it’s never a bad time to log on and share that the Summer Prince, Lord of All Flowers has surveyed his realm and ruled that it is good.
It’s an absolutely gorgeous cool and breezy day—possibly the most perfect day in the history of summer days—and I have asked Winnie to walk up a small hill.
Really excited to see this generous review and recommendation for a story that means so much to me! 🌳 🐸 ☀️ 🌊 You can read it here: augursociety.org/the-trees-an...
31 today! And what a year of grief and joy and despair and gratitude it has been. This is the busiest week but I am celebrating by treating myself to a few quiet hours spent writing at the coffee shop.* *Okay, less “writing,” more “sweating to death,” the coffee shop was full. CLOSE ENOUGH I GUESS.
My best reader is my dad. He reads everything I publish (or edit) and then sends me the greatest texts in the world. I wish I could loan him out to everyone who has ever been discouraged by the apathy or cruelty of a parent—especially queer authors without supportive family. I am very lucky.
Extremely glum and exhausted apologies to everyone I owe an email.
Back home after a week away, and I have returned to a bedroom with A CEILING and WALLS and ELECTRICITY, which would not sound very impressive (might in fact sound like the absolute bare minimum) if not for the fact that it did not have those things a week ago.
Impossible to sit alone by an empty and mildly ominous hotel pool without thinking nonstop about the perfect, perfect Kelly Link story “The Girl Who Did Not Know Fear.” “Wash off a stranger’s sadness in a green pool. What should a stranger’s story mean? Wash it away.“
Highly recommend spending your afternoon on a screened porch with a very good dog in your lap.
Breaking news, major development: Wilf and Winnie have officially gone full Vacation Mode.
POV: you died on a day when the god of pickled eggs and sausage rolls happened to be on front door duty.
I have officially settled on my vacation reads for later this month, a moment more exciting than every other step of vacation planning combined.
I’ve torn through the audiobook for this in three days and I award it 1000 out of 5 stars in the category of Books To Listen To While Painting Your Living Room. Incredibly fun. I’m now very irritated that I didn’t pace myself and have to wait for the next one AND didn’t even finish painting.
The worst part about living in an old house is that there’s always a project (and, as pictured: I am always running out of painter’s tape). The best part is the light through 150-year-old glass.
Back at it again this morning. Still feeling very seen by this guy.
Current status, working while listening to the Black Sails soundtrack:
Happy Pride Month, in just a couple of days you can read a story inspired by my absolutely incandescent rage at the concept of "too many lesbian stories" and I CAN'T WAIT!