One Year of The Crimson Mage
The current file for The Crimson Mage is labelled "Crimson Mage June 2015." Yes, I've been working on this current draft for a year. Actually, it's been one year and six months. I had naively assumed that it would only take me ten months to write the sequel, just as I wrote Return to the Castle. A wrench was thrown into my plans. It wasn't a single wrench, but more akin an earthquake in Home Depot.
On December 7th I wrote about how I was recovering from post-partum depression, totally back on track with The Crimson Mage. I was so happy and energetic. A few days after that post my grandfather had a stroke, because the universe has a crappy sense of irony. The following month was miserable. My daughter's first Christmas was the worst Christmas of my life, only to contend with Christmas 1994 when my mother couldn't walk after a car accident and I figured out Santa Claus was a lie because all of our presents were given to us in stapled grocery store bags.
My grandfather passed away in late January.
Writing takes your soul and your time to a solitary place. In the beginning of this year, any spare moments that I could have spent on Centernia, I spent with my family, because that's where I needed to be. I shared this on my personal Facebook page, but I didn't blast it across any of my public pages or sites. I'm a very energetic loud person, but when it comes to true emotional pain, I'm pretty silent. Death is awkward. It is the worst thing on earth and nobody knows what to say. Words are magical, but there is an emotional chasm they cannot cross when the shadow of death has past by.
I'm making this public now because I wanted readers to know what was going on in my life. I'm that still here, and I am still editing through the mire.
My artist friend Cathy Razim has been the Centernia evangelist in my absence from conventions. Some of you have met her and I am so grateful to her and her husband Joe for sharing my novel throughout the east coast.
This past weekend was my sister's wedding, which in itself was a lot of work and attention. Weddings after funerals are like emotional napalm.
I've been increasing the blog posts again, writing more, getting my groove. I'm not going to dare to say I'm back on track for fear something else will try to get in my way. Thanks for your patience.
On December 7th I wrote about how I was recovering from post-partum depression, totally back on track with The Crimson Mage. I was so happy and energetic. A few days after that post my grandfather had a stroke, because the universe has a crappy sense of irony. The following month was miserable. My daughter's first Christmas was the worst Christmas of my life, only to contend with Christmas 1994 when my mother couldn't walk after a car accident and I figured out Santa Claus was a lie because all of our presents were given to us in stapled grocery store bags.
My grandfather passed away in late January.
Writing takes your soul and your time to a solitary place. In the beginning of this year, any spare moments that I could have spent on Centernia, I spent with my family, because that's where I needed to be. I shared this on my personal Facebook page, but I didn't blast it across any of my public pages or sites. I'm a very energetic loud person, but when it comes to true emotional pain, I'm pretty silent. Death is awkward. It is the worst thing on earth and nobody knows what to say. Words are magical, but there is an emotional chasm they cannot cross when the shadow of death has past by.
I'm making this public now because I wanted readers to know what was going on in my life. I'm that still here, and I am still editing through the mire.
My artist friend Cathy Razim has been the Centernia evangelist in my absence from conventions. Some of you have met her and I am so grateful to her and her husband Joe for sharing my novel throughout the east coast.
This past weekend was my sister's wedding, which in itself was a lot of work and attention. Weddings after funerals are like emotional napalm.
I've been increasing the blog posts again, writing more, getting my groove. I'm not going to dare to say I'm back on track for fear something else will try to get in my way. Thanks for your patience.
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| My little princess was a pint-sized flower girl |
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