Buckle up, folks, there’s a lot of people to thank on this one.
Thank you to the London Writers’ Salon (and Matt and Parul, Ma and Pa, respectively) for providing the space to write “the witch book” throughout the pandemic. Y’all are lifesavers; let’s all keep raising our mugs and making magic.
Thank you to my agent, Ryan Harbage, and to both my editors, Seema Mahanian and Jacqueline Young. Jacqueline, I promise I didn’t name Cowboy Jacqueline’s after you, but I felt real good about the name because you rule.
Thank you to the Banff Center and to Zoe Whittall and to my whole cohort who experienced the pandemic close in around us. That was the last normal thing we all did, and every night I read some of the Hex’s lines at dinner and talked to y’all about Botnik Voicebox and y’all encouraged me to get weird and scary. And while I’m at it, thank you, Botnik! I used y’all’s software to help me write the Hex (and thank you to Mary Shelley, Machiavelli, King Arthur and all the knights, everyone who’s sent a spam text message, and Wizards of the Coast).
Thank you to my Portland family—Nate Zeiler, Megan Skwirz, Quinn McIntire, Sam Komenaka, Dr. Liz Rubin, Chrissie O’Neill, Torre McGee, Vanessa Friedman (and now PB as well, welcome to the family). I struggled through so much of the first draft during deep pandemic and you housed me, fed me, and cheerled me through the toughest time in my whole life.
Thank you to my pals on faculty at the Ohio State University, all of you, and especially Elissa Washuta for being witchy with me and spending basically every weekend for a year listening to me complain on your porch, and who has fast become one of my best friends. Thank you to my pals on faculty at the University of British Columbia, all of you, and especially Bronwen Tate; you have essentially rolled me into your family, have gone on three writing retreats with me (and counting, thank you, Yvonne, we shall give you all the blood sacrifices you require), read a draft of this book, and you have fast become one of my best friends.
Thank you to my writing group, the Queer Author Collective: Michelle Hart, Meredith Talusan, Dr. Nick White, Denne Michele Norris, and Garrard Conley for your tireless reads, epic amount of feedback, and unwavering support. I love you all so much it makes me feel like I’m going to detonate.
A massive thank-you to Calvin Kasulke; you once told my students that as authors of fiction you should steal all your friends’ voices like you’re a sea witch. So I have unabashedly done that to you, Calvin. I yoinked the words right out of your mouth for Quibble’s voice. Thank you!
Thank you to my closest creative friend, Nat Mesnard, who officially gets all my IP if I get hit by a car (again—and lose next time). May this be legally binding so I don’t have to do a will; I hate paperwork. And thank you to Pat Watson, who helped me troubleshoot so much AI thinking and methodology.
Thank you to Ryan Yates for endless Zoom. We might even be Zooming right now. It is endless, after all.
Thank you to Dr. Lauren Herold for being my friend and also for letting me use your office when our new climate-emergency-extended-hours fire season gave me the spicy air inside my very own house two days before Part One of this book was due. Actually, a lot of people let me write in their houses: special thanks to Nate, Megan, Quinn, and Sam (again and forever); Larissa Montgomery; and Raven Hiebert. And thank you to the Hungarian Pastry Shop for letting me write in you, too—can you spot yourselves in this story?
I have dated a lot of amazing people during the writing of this book and I am very difficult to be around while I’m working on something big. Thank you for loving me (or liking me, which is arguably more difficult). In order of appearance (#polylife), an absolutely massive thank-you to: Alex Marzano-Lesnevich (who believed that this book would be beloved by many and repeatedly told me so in the brief moments when this book was not beloved by me), Devon Morgan (who took photos of me in my office because I wanted to remember how it felt), Dr. Alex Brostoff (who helped with Rico’s slang and who listened to voice memos of the parts I was proudest of), Théo Pavlich (who helped me be a real human person and fixed my bathtub and drove me to Canada), Jo Bleecker (who welcomed me to north of the 49th parallel and reminded me that I am kind), Chell Buch (who taught me how to rest well and take no shit), Dr. Róisín Seifert (who was there every time I crossed a finish line with dinner and flowers and being my sweet sweet filth wizard and who, hopefully, will be there for every finish line to come—I love you, babes), Robin Hunt and Jor Matlock (happy birthday to us all forever; I love you both so much), and Dr. A. J. Lowik (the original Johnny Whoops, who breathes with me when I am panicking—I love you, sweets).
And now for a paragraph of single-line love notes: The brief cameo of the vibrator that can be played like a theremin is thanks to DJ Capelis, who, I believe, demoed something similar at A-Camp one year (and as problematic as an experience as it always was, thank you to everyone who made A-Camp its own version of swirling, complicated magic). Cowboy Jacqueline’s land acknowledgment is heavily influenced by Natiba Guy-Clement’s write-up of the Brooklyn Public Library’s two-day workshop on Living Land Acknowledgment; the bar is inspired by Branded Saloon and the vibes of Rico’s drag troupe are akin to Switch n’ Play (everyone should seek out the chance to see them perform). Thank you to Renée Stairs and Mr. Stairs for pepper spray disguised as Zicam (you know when and where). Rico’s titty planters were absolutely inspired by Make Good Choices, a shop run by ceramicist Alex Simon, whose hanging planters are a cast of writer Vanessa Friedman’s hot womps; I have a blue set with gold nipples and I ordered them the day after my own top surgery because I have a two-out-two-in policy. Gotta maintain the booby balance. I actually do quote the Hasbro Ouija board directions and because I’m making fun of it, that seems like fair use. Even though she doesn’t know me and I don’t know her, I owe a massive debt of gratitude to Florence Welch, in general because her music fucking slaps, but particularly for “Cassandra” and “The Bomb” in this specific use case. Also “Die on the Dancefloor” is by L Divine and it’s featured directly in a Cowboy Jacqueline scene. “The center of the universe is boring” is a line from a JR JR song that I listened to while writing as well, and it snuck its way right on in. Thank you to Lynda Barry for Making Comics because even though this isn’t a comic, I used it a lot while I drafted.
Thank you to Richard Osworth, Berit Seiple Osworth, and Dave Osworth for being my ever-supportive family. Y’all are the best.
And as always, thank you to my best friend, Laura Chrismon. Our friendship is so old that it has no more age milestones to experience—it can already rent a car without extra insurance. We have always read all the magic books together; this novel is for a lot of people, but this is also for us. I love you so much.