There are two emotional zones where I literally shut down and do not write: When I am extremely sad or extremely happy. The first time a crisis of desire came was shortly after 9/11. While I was on the west coast and it was quite a different thing here, I shared the common experiences of all Americans and definitely the emotions of most mothers. I was in Northern California and my girls were in Santa Barbara that morning, and through all the strange events unfolding around me in San Jose, from the airport going silent when the planes were grounded, to the freeways being empty, to the hotel pounding on doors asking if people were leaving because they needed the rooms, to my cell phone only working occasionally, to my girls 300 miles away and overwhelmed and confused by the day's news; a part of me was very different by the end of that day.
The drive from San Jose to Santa Barbara is impossible to describe that day, or perhaps not understand unless you are a Californian. The 101 was literally empty. Hardly a car passed me the entire way. Through long stretches my cell phone didn't work and it was quiet in a way California never is. On the overpasses where military bases were, were military vehicles blocking them off. I scarcely remember the drive. All I could think of was how strange the world was around me, how unfamiliar everything familiar felt, and an absolute desperation to be with my girls(even though logically I knew they were fine and safe) a mother parted from their kids in time of crisis is an emotionally gut wrenching thing.
The world changed during that day and drive for me, and I would soon see young men I'd known since their birth leaving for Afghanistan, and the world was no longer familiar to me. I sank into an incredible sadness, and I finished the last chapters of Love's Patient Fury and didn't write again for ten years. Ironically, those chapters are overly happy happily ever after, so unlike me, because in extreme sadness I write extreme happy.
The inverse is also true: When I'm extremely happy I write really brutally intense angst. And I'm extremely happy these days with the birth of my grandson; hence the crisis of desire to write. I'm trying to walk the middle ground emotionally and the writing isn't there in the middle with me. Well, some of my readers might think I never exist in the middle. We're talking about my middle here.
I've got 2 novellas and 1 novel to finish writing to complete the Affair without End Series and the Half Shell Series. The books for the Sand & Fog Series and Kaley Stanton's story are complete and will starting rolling out in the fall. And this summer I think I'm going into the grab bag of finished work and sending those out to edit(The Blooming, because Rachel Blaufeld wants the Morgan Katz novel; and Love me Forever, because my readers of the Deverell Series want Indy's story), and I'm not going to force myself to write on a schedule until I'm back in the emotional middle. It's just not possible today. Today I am overly happy. If I try to produce new work in my current state of bliss I will burn my readers to ash!
As ever I wish you Peace.
PLEASE DON'T DOWNLOAD MY BOOKS FROM A PIRATE SITE: My books are never more than $2.99 and I'm free on Kindle Unlimited!
The drive from San Jose to Santa Barbara is impossible to describe that day, or perhaps not understand unless you are a Californian. The 101 was literally empty. Hardly a car passed me the entire way. Through long stretches my cell phone didn't work and it was quiet in a way California never is. On the overpasses where military bases were, were military vehicles blocking them off. I scarcely remember the drive. All I could think of was how strange the world was around me, how unfamiliar everything familiar felt, and an absolute desperation to be with my girls(even though logically I knew they were fine and safe) a mother parted from their kids in time of crisis is an emotionally gut wrenching thing.
The world changed during that day and drive for me, and I would soon see young men I'd known since their birth leaving for Afghanistan, and the world was no longer familiar to me. I sank into an incredible sadness, and I finished the last chapters of Love's Patient Fury and didn't write again for ten years. Ironically, those chapters are overly happy happily ever after, so unlike me, because in extreme sadness I write extreme happy.
The inverse is also true: When I'm extremely happy I write really brutally intense angst. And I'm extremely happy these days with the birth of my grandson; hence the crisis of desire to write. I'm trying to walk the middle ground emotionally and the writing isn't there in the middle with me. Well, some of my readers might think I never exist in the middle. We're talking about my middle here.
I've got 2 novellas and 1 novel to finish writing to complete the Affair without End Series and the Half Shell Series. The books for the Sand & Fog Series and Kaley Stanton's story are complete and will starting rolling out in the fall. And this summer I think I'm going into the grab bag of finished work and sending those out to edit(The Blooming, because Rachel Blaufeld wants the Morgan Katz novel; and Love me Forever, because my readers of the Deverell Series want Indy's story), and I'm not going to force myself to write on a schedule until I'm back in the emotional middle. It's just not possible today. Today I am overly happy. If I try to produce new work in my current state of bliss I will burn my readers to ash!
As ever I wish you Peace.
PLEASE DON'T DOWNLOAD MY BOOKS FROM A PIRATE SITE: My books are never more than $2.99 and I'm free on Kindle Unlimited!
RSS Feed