Happy Sunday, compadres! Here we are, the last Smatterings of the year, the decade, and I find myself at a loss for words. I’ve actually been staring at this screen for an hour (in between playing with my parents’ cat) trying to decide how I want to end the decade here. It always feels like “the last of” needs to be momentous, not oh hey, the m key decided to stop working on my laptop so I’ve had three days of no M or double M. (Trust me, that sentence took a while.)
But fall back on the banal I will. We had a lovely Christmas. I took three days off. Now I’m back to work, lap desk in place, driving a new plot through the new book. Yes, at the 11th hour, I’ve had to shift gears entirely. The book will be better for it, but the deadline... alas.
And that is how 2019 has been. It was quite a year. Major highs, major lows. New deals and new books, new friends, new paths to follow. I’ve laid the groundwork for my next few years, and that feels very good indeed. My knee is healing, getting stronger, the pain less and less. The new book isn’t as far along as I’d like, but it’s working again, which is a very good thing. Everyone around me is happy and healthy. I read many, many excellent books. These are all reasons to rejoice.
And of course, I end the year with a book release. GOOD GIRLS LIE comes out tomorrow. I’ve poured an awful lot of energy into this book this year, from the truncated period it took to write to the PR, and every high and low in between. I can’t believe it’s finally here.
It will be yours tomorrow. No longer mine. I’ve spoken before how this feels like sending a child out of the nest. I’ve always equated it to sending said child to college, but after experiencing the fear and joy of a child getting behind the wheel of a car for their first solo drive with friends this year, the tumult of emotions watching their child strapping in and driving away, I think that comparison is more apt. You’ve trained them, cautioned them, given them all the tools, and now you have to hope and pray they listen to you, keep the radio turned down, their seatbelt on, their eyes on the road and their hands upon the wheel.
Yes, that’s what this feels like. It’s gifting freedom into a machine that could hurt them if not operated properly.
In other words, sheer, unadulterated terror.
I know its just words. But the people inside the covers are alive to me. The story I’ve told is like blood from my veins.
I hope you love it.
And I hope the decade to come brings as much joy as the decade past. May the road rise up to meet you, always.
And with that, off we go…