I'm writing again.
Actually, it's been a few months. But I took half the year off to focus on things here at home. Medical stuff. Things I won't write about for a while, though all is good for now. Writing each day is like the air I breathe, so not writing more than an email for a half-year was an adjustment. I thought it would be jarring but it was not. I'd like to say the time was spent in meditation and mindfulness, or that I ran a little more. None of that. I read a lot of books. Took a lot of solitary saunas, sweating through heat and quiet. Walked in O'Neill like it was the sanctuary I had always hoped it would become. The family of four deer became a touchstone. When a fifth and sixth came along I felt like a proud parent.
My new book, Taking Berlin, came out at the end of my break. I'm thankful people enjoy the stuff I write but am not immune to checking Amazon reviews for a dopamine hit every now and again. Like every writer, for every hundred five-star moment there's that turd in a punchbowl who doesn't read the whole book and takes a break from reviewing hair care products and vacuum cleaners to say how much they disagree with the years of research and focus I spend on every subject, then spew their own gonorrheal take on history.
I'm writing Taking London right now. Third book in the Taking series. There's going to be a fourth. I would have started with this one if I'd known there'd be four. At the very least, it would make my many trips to London more streamlined. Or perhaps I am looking for more excuses to make the trip, if only for a haircut at Jack the Clipper and some quality time in Parliament's research rooms.
I also think this is the year I write historical fiction. Wouldn't it be great to write a sentence and add exposition existing only in my head?
I mention all this because I've got a great team around me as I move forward: Nikki, Brent, Mike, Eric, Mike, and the wondrous Callie. TGBC. Coaches text group. The past year has been a time of realizing I am not alone. Writers write in solitude and sweatpants (me, at least) but I now have confidants who have called to ask me out for a beer and used those dreaded phrases about bringing meals and telling me they're here to do anything they need.
I use "dreaded" because it means "thankful." These friends have scooped me up. Carried me. The one lesson I have learned most since April 12 is that we're all doing the best we can.
Time to get back in the game. Pay attention to this space because I'm going to land a blog every Monday. Keep me accountable! My newsletter will be in your inbox the first of every month. I am thankful for longtime friends like Susie B. and those of you I don't know. For all of you who asked for a signed bookplate and haven't received one yet, it's coming. I procrastinate.
Religiously.
But I am writing again. Breathing again. Finding hope. It's time for a new honesty in my writing. The mystery of my downtime has to remain so for awhile but I'll share it in due time. Too close. I can't write about it yet.
You are my tribe. Thanks for the love. Couldn't do this without you.
Party on.