The reason I'm about to get all emotional up in here is because November 4th is kind of a significant day for me. And the reason that it's kind of a significant day for me is that it marks one year since the day when a nervous orc (with a bit of a paste eating problem) summoned up the gumption to knock on the door of this marvelous, magical place known as the Extended Multiverse.

Honestly, his life hasn't been quite the same since.

Just one year ago, I had no earthly idea that this little community, and the wonderful people who make it what it is, would become such a source of joy in my life. But it has, and you all have, to the point where I kind of can't remember what life was like without it, and without you all.

Less interesting, I assume. Less colorful. Less magical, for sure.

I was backing up my files this evening, and I realized that I've written something in the neighborhood of 25 M:EM stories over the span of this past year. Which, by itself, doesn't mean a whole lot. To understand why I got a little teary thinking about that number, a little additional context is required.

Here's the number of stories I wrote in the previous year: zero.

And the year before that: zero.

And the year before that: zero.

I would have to go back many more years before I'm going to get to a number in that column which isn't a zero.

This past year has been the most creatively fulfilling year of my life. It isn't even close. And that never would have happened without this community, without all of you.

Because, here's the thing: I love storytelling a lot more than I love writing. That may seem like a semantic distinction, but I can assure you it's not. Writing is hard for me. Writing is hard, and lonely, and intimidating. There's a kind of tyranny to the blank page which I really have a hard time getting past. In a vacuum, I have a very, very hard time getting myself to write. It's easier just not to do it.

But the M:EM isn't a vacuum. It's a community filled with wonderful, talented, creative people. Take writing out of its vacuum, and put it in this community, and, suddenly, it isn't writing anymore. It's storytelling. It's a beautiful, shared experience. It's that same kind of very elemental, very human joy that our ancestors knew before the written word even existed, when they would gather around to tell each other tales, to engage in storytelling as a communal experience -- an experience which I believe is essential to our humanity.

It's an experience which makes my life happier, fuller, more joyful. And it's something which I get from being here, with all of you.

It's a really beautiful thing, and I want to thank you all for it.

There are so many people here who I owe a deep, heartfelt thanks to. The thing is, if I try to acknowledge them individually, then I know with cosmic certainty that I am going to forget something, that I am going to leave someone out. So, instead, I want to just thank all of you, for everything that you do.

Thanks for sharing your tremendous creativity, and for letting me enrich my life with your work.

Thanks for taking time from your lives to read my stories, to offer your thoughtful comments, to make me want to tell another story, and another, and another.

Thanks for sharing ideas with me, for discussing characters with me, for co-authoring stories with me. Thanks for enabling me to do better work than I could ever do on my own.

Thanks for telling Simpsons jokes, for reminding me to put my faith in Blast Hardcheese, for reassuring me that the gum I like is going to come back into style. Thanks for filling my days with haikus and inside jokes and obscure references. Thanks for trying to trick me into weeping at the mere mention of "The Rainbow Connection." Thanks for making me laugh and cry and laugh again within the span of an hour. Thanks for sending me PMs that make me burst out into a big, goofy grin. Thanks for giving me a little window into your lives, and for giving me a place to discuss mine.

Thanks for being you.

I know that, in this digital world, I'm just a bunch of words which appear on your screen. So, I hope you will forgive the presumption on my part when I say that I think of you all as friends. But I do. And, if you will permit me to count you as such, then that makes me a very lucky man indeed.

It has been one heck of a year.

I can't wait to see what happens next.