The winner takes it all.

I debated whether or not I wanted to write about last week’s article in The Atlantic about the pirating of books to train AI. Even after Voyage of the Pleiades turned up in the database of books stolen by Meta to train their robots. I wondered if I had anything new to add to the conversation. After all, more than 7 million authors also had their work stolen.

I’ve had a multitude of reactions from those around me. Everything from, aren’t you flattered, to, that’s cost of putting art into the world. As I’ve been ruminating on it, I’ve continued to work on book three. In fact, it was a great week of writing. The words are flowing, my characters are speaking to me again, and I have some clear direction for the story.

And then while I was cleaning the dried winter remnants from my garden, ABBA came over my headphones.

Catmint coming out of winter sleep.

College was a hard scrabble for me, as I’m sure it was for many of us. Despite loving my studies, I was constantly worried about paying my bills. From my first day on campus, I worked to stay on top of it. I was fortunate in that before I started my position at the Forest Service, I landed an exceptional work study job. Through that job I met Jacinta McKoy, who will get a Substack just about her someday because of the profound impact she had on my life.

There was a period between when school let out and summer sessions started up again, when most of the staff would go on leave. Campus would shut down. Paychecks would stop. Which made for stress when you are living check to check. A job that was available during that time was cleaning the dorms.

Oh, but they make it sound so easy. Great pay, a short commitment, the perfect solution to the gap in employment. If you are imagining the appalling state of those dorms by the end of the year, believe me, you have no idea. But I needed the money.

For ten days, I showed up and scrubbed the shit out those dorm rooms. Because dammit, I always go all in on everything. Early in the week, our supervisor realized that my attention to detail would be best served by putting me on full time oven cleaning duty. I was still too young and naive to see how my overachiever attitude wasn’t always a good thing (and it took me way too long to learn that lesson).

The way I got through those days of inhaling oven cleaner while I brillo-padded off dried, burnt ramen and my fingerprints? ABBA. A truly strange choice for a music loving post-punk, Oly girl. I probably found that tape in the bargain bin of Rainy Day Records. Yet, without fail, everyday I checked that my walkman batteries were fresh and clicked in Super Trouper for another day of sacrificing lung material.

College days.

Flash forward. Here I am, almost fifty years old, knees deep in the dirt of my yard and the “Winner Takes it All”, comes over my headphones. And goddammit if Agnetha isn’t still on point.

When I decided to change my life and throw it all in for writing, I was at the absolute bottom. I was tired of staying small. Never pushing hard. Never being vulnerable. Life is fucking short, but I couldn’t live another day without trying. I’ve known too many people whose lives were cut short before they accomplished their dreams. Or were even able to take a shot at them. And though it scared the shit out of me. I wasn’t willing to be that person.

So, I wrote a book. And then I wrote another one. And I’m writing a third.

Am I bestselling NYT writer? Nope.

Do I rank high on all the lists? Nope.

Am I making a living from my books. Hell no.

But you know, even if Meta steals my books, they can’t take the heart of why I write. They can’t take my love and vulnerability that goes into every one of these books. I’ll be the loser in this situation every time, because I know that being able to do this at all, makes me the winner. And that is my destiny.

The winner takes it all

The loser’s standing small

Beside the victory

That’s her destiny.

Grayer, but just as cheesy.