This is not my typical Thanksgiving post, although, before I dive into it, I do want to say that I am thankful for so much: my family, my friends, the wonderful memories I have of those I have lost and the enduring bonds I have with so many who are reading these words. Thank you. I am grateful for my new home, for the daily comforts I take for granted most of the year, and for the opportunities I have been privileged to enjoy throughout my life.
I am also, of course, grateful for my writing career, which brings us a little closer to the core of this post.
It’s no secret that my family and I have been through a rough period, and that during that time, I virtually stopped writing. I continued to post here when I could, but I did not write any original fiction for more than two years.
This fall, I decided I’d had enough of not writing. A few weeks ago, the Kickstarter for the Disruptive Intent anthology that I will be co-editing with the fabulous Sarah J. Sover for Falstaff Books funded. That meant not only that I will have more editing to do before too long, but also that, at the request (insistence? direct order?) of John Hartness, head of Falstaff, I will be writing a short story for the project.
I am truly delighted to report that, as of about a week and a half ago, I have started writing said short story, which will be set in my Radiants universe.
Yes, I am writing fiction again.
It’s coming quite slowly right now. But I am making progress each day and now have nearly half the story drafted. It’s not very good. Not yet. I may have to scrap much of what I’ve committed to phosphors thus far. That, though, is beside the point. I am writing. Finally. It feels really good.
Before starting on the fiction, I actually took a couple of weeks and wrote about Alex, about losing her, about our relationship, about my grief, about the complex tangle of emotions that seemed to be getting in the way of my creativity. Those words I will never share with anyone. I just knew that I needed to write them before I could move on. The writing was painful, but it was also freeing. A lesson there, I believe. Writing is not always about producing words for publication. Sometimes it is catharsis. Sometimes it is a means of processing emotions that cannot be addressed in any other way. That, at least, is how it sometimes is for me.
In any case, I wanted to share this.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all. May you be surrounded by love and laughter.