I’m reactivating my blog… And working on revamping my actual website. During the revamp, the only page that I plan on being active and live is this page.
Wow, the last few years have been full of growth, grief and gradual acceptance.
Well, that I needed to grow, but at the same time, that growth didn’t have to follow a particular path or have a particular goal. Much of this is in regards to my career as a writer…and whether I still considered myself a writer. Whether I still had things to write…did I want to write?
Writing and publishing had to diverge for me to remain sane. I love to write. I even love to publish, but publishing isn’t easy any more. Not selling well is a crushing burden. I had to gain distance and perspective to push the two apart. I write because I like to tell stories. And I will publish because I like the idea of publishing my stories. The selling is out of my control and I will accept that. I do accept that.
The grief. My mother left this earth last year, in March. But she was fading the years before that. She was losing her wits, her health, her mobility and freedom. And it was a particularly difficult time for me as I spent weeks at a time with her. And she drank. I’m not going to pretend she didn’t. She did and it was so very sad. And so very bitter. So much so, that when the time came…well, that acceptance came too easy for me?
And that took some real acceptance. Not that I didn’t grieve, but what I felt was more a deliberate sadness, along with a sense of liberation. Am I proud of that? No, but it is what it is. And it just means I’m human.
The last few years have been full of an intense sense of betrayal. I am a liberal Democrat and the daily news since 2016 has been crippling to my sense of fairness, my sense of reality and my sense of who I am. Couple that with book sales that don’t exist and I’ve really struggled with my sense of self-worth, how the world views women like me and how I see myself.
Sewing helped me. It’s a process that needs creativity but it is based on deliberate number of steps and the result is a tangible thing. And, surprising me, sewing and the process of how pattern comes together…the pieces, the fabric selection, the way flat pieces grow to hold dimension… It’s a magic that I’ve really enjoyed.
And it’s a magic that helped me finish a story I began years ago. I kept struggling with Handled. It’s a hard story, of righteous vengeance and discovering how to be real. Sounds pretty nebulous, doesn’t it? I plan to release it by the summer. My first suspense novel. With romantic flavors included.
Spring will see me release a five volume polyamory series, long finished, but waiting to be edited. And for the right covers. Look for it starting in February and the final volume releasing just before St. Patrick’s Day. It’s a series set in Ireland, for the most part, so my schedule touches on that.
And so I will return to releasing books in 2020. What will come after The Irish Circles and then Handled is up for grabs. I have several stories started, I’ll see which one pulls my creativity out. I’m looking to grow my writing skills this year, and work on making extremely deliberate word choices, all aimed toward a rhythm and prose that I hope will approach poetry.
Meanwhile, my theme for 2020 is simple. I need to focus on hearth and home. Many long delayed repairs, adding comforts, returning my house to a home and not just a place where I keep all my stuff.
Though it is that, too.
I’m coming into some money, due to my mother’s passing, and I want to do some of the things I once spoke of with her. I want a new couch, a new bed, finish my sewing room…bring the yard back from the jungle…a spa. A spa my husband and I can star watch from. And I want a She Shed, within steps of the spa.
My she shed will be where I reconnect to my spiritual side. My altar, my meditation space, my place to call down the moon and reconnect with the earth. A place I can cry and laugh, dance and stretch and just remember myself.
I am now 60 years old and I’m ready to discover myself as a crone, a woman of power. A rebellious hag. And a wife who can be present in her marriage, free of the million distractions the last decade has thrust at me.
From growth, grief and gradual acceptance I step into hearth and home, and all it encompasses.