2021 Recap

 

How has 2021 been both the longest and shortest year on record? Lord. Anyway, it's that time again - recap time. 

I thought to start this post by expressing my disappointment in myself for not accomplishing all that I set out to, because I did not in fact meet all my professional goals and I am indeed disappointed in that fact. But I'm thinking about something that my mom has said to me over and over this year: "Give yourself some grace." I've been really self-critical this year, and I think that has only worsened my stress and chronic pain. Every time I felt poorly, and couldn't get hold of that sharp, bright brain power that fuels my best writing - when I had to stay off the computer - I berated myself, and that helps NOTHING. Ugh. So let's see if I can set disappointment aside and focus on the good stuff. 

I was able to put out three books this year:

Edge of the Wild - Drake Chronicles Book 2

Vanish Into Light - Hell Theory Book 3

Blood of Wolves - Drake Chronicles Book 3 

All three were fantasy of a sort. I'm shocked and proud that I managed to write a trilogy (okay, there was a novella, but does that count?) and actually stick to it. No 5, 6, 7 book monstrous series with dozens of sub plots. Those are my FAVORITE, but I'm glad Hell Theory managed to do its thing and finish on a mostly positive note. That's such a funky little series, and mostly the result of binge-rewatching Hannibal last year. Though, given my longtime obsession with Saint Michael - and I think my other work reflects this - it's not that surprising. 

Then there's the Drakes, which started on a whim, and which has turned into the fun, mostly lighthearted, intricate epic fantasy story I wasn't sure I'd ever get to write. EOTW is my favorite so far, with regards to how fun it was to write. BOW, though, offered a chance to write a proper castle siege, which I'll need to do a lot more of when I eventually get around to writing Lionheart. Why do I have to pick the MOST complex and controversial historical figures to write about? 

I started a number of WIPs this year, some of which I hope to publish in 2022. The one with the largest word count at the moment is The Wild Charge - which I'm going to take a step back from in the coming weeks. I don't think Dartmoor will ever be anything save the series that inspired the most abuse and criticism from self-proclaimed "fans," and I'm just exhausted at this point. 

One thing I will say, for a moment...an aside if you will. Nothing has seemed to make followers angrier than the times I call for civility and kindness. "Please don't come tell me you don't like/won't read my work to my face, on my personal pages," I say, and am met with profanity and assertions of having lost readers. "I spent hard-earned money on your books." Yes, you did. You bought a book - you bought a product that I hope you enjoyed. But. If I may... That was an exchange. You bought a good. You got something out of it - it wasn't a donation. When you enter a restaurant and pay for a meal, you are paying for a meal - you are not paying for the privilege of throwing a drink in your server's face. If you bought my book, I hope you liked it, but that $3.99 - of which I only see a dollar - does not buy anyone the privilege of insulting and belittling and dogpiling on me on one of my pages. You'd be incensed if someone walked into your house and insulted your new haircut. Me asking for civility in my own back yard, essentially, isn't untoward. 

SO. Anyway...lots I need to write, lots I want to write. I'm hoping for a healthier 2022, physically and mentally. 

On a reading front, I read lots of books I want to recommend, and while I wish I'd bothered to do full write-ups all along, I'll just share the titles now:

A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine

The House of Niccolo Series by Dorothy Dunnett

A Slow Fire Burning by Paula Hawkins 

Subtle Blood by K.J. Charles 

Mended With Gold by Lee Welch

Thrown Off The Ice by Taylor Fitzpatrick 

The Angel of the Crow by Katherine Addison 

Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan 

A Place of Greater Safety by Hilary Mantel 

Reread of Broken Harbor by Tana French 

Reread of various Sherlock Holmes mysteries. 

Crusaders by Dan Jones

I also bought myself an anatomy drawing book, and I'm excited to dive back into sketching and painting as one of my resolutions. I miss the visual arts, and think it would be a good way to wind down in the evenings. 

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year - and hopefully an actually happy one, for all of us. See you next year :) 

RIP to the Queen

 

 "In the winter of my twenty-first year, I went out alone on horseback to kill a pack of wolves."

~The Vampire Lestat

Writers write because they love stories; because they love the sound of words, and the shapes of sentences, and the way lines in ink can conjure the realest of images in the mind. You start as a reader, as a devourer of books, until you're so full of words that you have to rearrange and contribute them to the field; it's no longer enough to simply read - you have to write. You have to give the words back. And you can't write a proper book without having read many, many books, some of which you cast aside like dandelion seeds - and others you press between the pages of your mind like the most precious of blooms, dried and saved for later. 

Sometimes, you come across not just a book, but an author, that grabs you. And then sits you gently down in a comfortable place, offers you a warm drink, and says, "Settle in. This while take a while, but it will be worth it." A book that plucks your imagination like violin strings. An author's whose voice is so immediately immersive and special and inviting that it feels like that book was written just for you. Like the author knew what you wanted, or what you maybe needed without knowing it. Knew all the little aesthetic buttons to push, knew the way a description of the lift of a hand, the dousing of a candle, the flash of light on yellow hair would be so pleasing to you. Anne Rice is one of those authors for me. For me, reading her books is like having my imagination step into a cozy room, kick off its shoes, and snuggle in, nourished and happy. 

I think the title of "Queen" gets tossed around far too frequently in bookish circles. Each week there's a new "Queen of ___" touted. Books of the moment, books with good sales numbers. But Anne Rice truly was the Queen of Vampires as we know them today. There's shades of Anne in all modern vampire narratives. Aside from Count Dracula, I can't think of a more famous vampire than the Brat Prince himself: Lestat de Lioncourt.

"Everybody was sick of Count Dracula. They thought it was marvelous that I was pretending to be the Vampire Lestat."

She leaves behind an incredible legacy, a body of work that I will cherish always. I love vampires, and creatures of the night, and the way her quest of understanding, her theological and religious questions found their way to the page - but I think the thing I love most is the way her books always feel utterly and entirely hers. She wasn't writing for the market, or for the numbers; she wasn't mimicking a popular style to cash in on a trend. To read her books is to know you're reading only the work that she most wanted, or felt like she needed to write. 

An immense talent, and a particular voice that will echo for generations. Rest in peace. Mrs. Rice. Thank you for sharing Lestat and his bloody family with us all. 

Soup Brain

My brain's been about as useful as an expired, cold can of cream of mushroom between my ears this week, so I wondered if blogging about it would help. At least heat things up a little. Give it a stir. I think the culprit is a combo of hormones, end of year burnout, and leftover Thanksgiving stress. It's also a little bit of expecting too much with regards to being able to dive right back into big daily word counts on Monday. 

The final push to get a book released, those last two or three weeks, is always consuming. Other WIPs get pushed to the side and that about-to-release book becomes my sole focus work-wise. It's difficult to enjoy reading or pay attention to a new show. The creative part of my brain gives way to the pragmatic, and by the time I turn the book loose...soup brain. Every time. The answer to this, I know, is to take a few genuine rest days, recharge mentally; read, watch movies, refill the well, so to speak. You have to consume art in order to create it. This year, though, once I wrapped BOW, I dove right into party prep mode, and that didn't end until last Thursday night. Cue a half-dead Friday of binging Hallmark movies and doing absolutely nothing. I thought I'd be ready to roll on Monday, but, well, there's been the whole aforementioned cream of mushroom situation. 

Right now, the only WIP I want to tackle is one I Absolutely Shouldn't, one that Literally No One Asked For, and which is Not A Part of My Ongoing Series. 

So that's of course the one I want to work on most. Le sigh. Every time I think about Lionheart, and the fact it was supposed to be out last year, it adds another shovel of anxiety on top of my Generalized Writer Anxiety. And then there's TWC to finish, and Drake book four, and a half dozen other abandoned WIPs. Stress inspires new WIPs, which in turn inspires more stress, and the vicious cycle repeats and repeats. 

I've tried (unsuccessfully) to convince myself that three releases in one year is perfectly acceptable, though it doesn't feel that way at all. I think I'll dabble this next week, write a little of one thing and then a little of another, and see if a breakthrough will happen. 

Or watch a ton more Hallmark movies. Either or. 

Here's hoping things are less soupy soon. But now I want actual soup...darn.