This post has been a long time coming. I'll be talking about my work and life, and what the future may bring. I'm still finding the direction of this blog, and some of this feels like repetition, but some things bear repeating.

The final chapters of a story that I first started working on in 2020 are now out there in the world. It has been a long, complicated journey full of twists and turns. When I pitched the concept, I was living aboard a sailboat with my spouse. It was a life that I struggled with, and I made a lot of compromises along the way, but I hold so many memories of that time near and dear to my heart, and I have no regrets.

Four years later, I am a divorced landlubber with a pet fish and an X on my passport, and the country I live in has decided to paint a very different X on my back for nothing more or less than being myself. It reminds me of a childhood of living in fear of discovery and feeling like my identity would lead to nothing but suffering, and that, in turn, reminds me why I wrote the story I did.

A little about my history and motivation...

I knew that I was queer very early on, definitely by the age of ten. And I also remember my father explaining how there was something fundamentally wrong with people who experienced homosexual attraction, and the conservative Christian atmosphere of my hometown. I kept my identity hidden for my own safety, taking some risks as I got older and only beginning to feel free once I left for college. Things seemed to get better as time went on: when I checked back in on my hometown after graduating, the high school had an LGBT+ club. I was so happy to think that those kids had at least that one safe space. How much better would my childhood have been with that?

Representation matters. I'd like to share what that means to me personally, as everyone's experience is different. Media and culture tell us what we can be. What did I learn while growing up? More often than not, that there was something fundamentally alien or evil about people like me (if I could find anyone to identify with at all), or that I should be racked with guilt and shame. That my relationships would be difficult or the butt of a joke. That I would probably meet a tragic end. And regarding being non-binary, that I simply didn't exist.

Childhood and adolescence can be challenging and confusing, and those unspoken but very clear messages didn't make things any easier. That's why as an adult, it has been incredibly healing to encounter media with characters I can relate to on the basis of gender and identity, especially when that content is targeted at a younger audience. It would have meant so much to my younger self to see those characters on the screen.

Content Warning: Brief discussion of suicidality.

There were times during both my childhood and adolescence when I was suicidal and made attempts. It was never in response to a specific incident. Rather, it stemmed from something deep-seated and existential, as well as a lack of hope for my future. I can't say how much of it came from feeling that I was fundamentally broken and did not belong in the world, and how much of it came from other sources. In any case, I am very lucky to have survived.

End Content Warning

Leading an authentic life is important to my own well-being, and it also serves as an example to others of what life can look like. It is easier to imagine a future for yourself when you can see others like you who are surviving and even thriving.

And this is just one of the reasons why it is heartbreaking to watch what is happening in my country and other countries around the world right now. The discrimination, othering, and vilifying that governments are advancing and codifying into law directly leads to unnecessary suffering and death, and the toll will only grow as time goes on.

Simply put, I will not go back to that life, and no one should have to.

When I consider things over a larger time scale, the fact that awareness of systemic oppression and acceptance of marginalized groups are more widespread than ever gives me hope. What is happening now is, at least in part, a combination of backlash and outrage manufactured by those who stand to gain power. Marginalized groups are being caught in the crossfire and used as a punching bag because they lack the resources to defend themselves on equal terms. It is a violent attack on the dearly won right to simply exist. Queer and specifically trans folks are not the only marginalized groups being targeted, and what is happening now is far from the first attack, but this issue has been prominent in my mind the last few weeks.

It is incredibly painful to watch as one's own country votes against your right to exist as an equal in society. For some, the recent election was only the latest confirmation, and for others, the pain is fresh and unexpected.

It's hard to care about a group you rarely, if ever, interact with, and that is exactly why political platforms stoke fears about minorities. But, if you read my work, if you read this blog, if you know me in any capacity, then... you know at least one trans person who narrowly survived to adulthood in a world that didn't think queer people deserved to exist. I hope you will never forget this. As extreme political movements target these groups, I hope you will actively support the safety, acceptance, dignity, and autonomy of the people whose humanity is being stripped away as they are turned into a political wedge.

These movements succeed through complacency, fear, manipulation, and promoting narratives of helplessness and futility. Resilience, solidarity, and compassion are a few of the tools for effectively resisting and overcoming these forces of oppression. It has never been more important to connect with and support one another.

I wrote the story I did because hope matters. We all deserve better than the waking death that is an existence without hope for the future. Accepting hopelessness and doom is a phenomenon that proliferates in white spaces, and I am grateful to the Black thinkers who have pointed this out time and time again. Without their largely thankless work, I do not know when or if I would have recognized the potent threat that this mindset represents.

There is a lot to fear in the world, yet fear is a mere sliver when compared to the wonders of life, love, compassion, discovery, and everything else that is the human experience. We are so much stronger than fear.

A few words in retrospect...

My biggest takeaway from working on Hell and High Water is that I need to be a better advocate for my creative work. Writing for Romance Club is a balancing act that involves pleasing players, supporting the company's goals, and fulfilling my own creative ambitions. With HHW, I could have done a better job in all three areas. I don't consider it a failure: the story has found an audience and earned a special place in many people's hearts, and it would be dishonest to ignore that. I'm incredibly fortunate to have connected with so many wonderful and supportive people throughout this project, both at YSI and in the fandom. I did the best job I was capable of, given the circumstances and my own knowledge and experience, and I will be the first to acknowledge that even that left a lot to be desired.

I know that some players will not be satisfied with the endings. In what was ultimately the result of my own decisions and life circumstances, I had to cut about a third of the content (word count) that I would have liked to include from the final two episodes. There are many bits of conversations and scenes that I would have liked to include, but there were compromises to be made. While the endings are neither perfect nor comprehensive, I hope that if nothing else, you will enjoy what is there and find that it is true to the heart of the story.

I intend to bring all the lessons I have learned from HHW to my next story and write something that warrants 3 seasons, and when I do, I hope you will enjoy it.

Thank you, as always, for your support.
~Yim