My birthday was last week, bookended by Shawn emergencies–the first, on the weekend, was an upset stomach, which typically doesn’t seem like a big deal but he gets into everything and I have to constantly monitor him for blockages. We got over that hurdle and then he decided to knock the Scentsy warmer tray and covered himself in melted wax–chest, neck, face, front legs and paws.
The biggest concern with something like that is actually burns, and Scentsy wax has a low melting point so isn’t generally the issue. Then, of course, there was me trying to cut the wax out so he didn’t ingest it all grooming, and subsequently watching for gastro upsets.
So that’s been fun.
There’s also a mattress and boxspring in my living room that I don’t have the energy to arrange pickup and disposal of, and a new bedframe I don’t have the energy to put together and put the new mattress on. My apartment’s a mess, I’ve given up on that adulting, and today I’m back to freelance work.
But I did finish a WIP while I was off and it’s now up for preorder!
The Silent Places is a domestic thriller. Standalone, non-paranormal. It’s still similar to what I usually write–it’s a book about monsters, who we become to survive trauma, and violence against women–and I’m really happy with it. It was one of those books conceived when I was antsy and wanted to read a very specific kind of thing I couldn’t find (running away to the Yukon, murder, etc), and it bloomed fully formed in my head complete with the ending. That doesn’t happen often and I’m excited–and nervous–to get to share it with people at last.
I’ve checked in with my copyeditor’s schedule ahead of my second draft here, and I’m looking at releasing it later in December but the preorder date is February just to have a buffer in case of emergency.
It’s been nearly a year since Imogen Sharp’s husband Nick went missing—and a year of everyone in the Yukon village of Red Fox Lake whispering that she killed him.
With interest in the case rising again as the anniversary of his disappearance approaches, a journalist comes to town and sparks new rumours. Did Nick take his own life without leaving a note? Did he leave of his own volition? Or did his would-be widow have something to do with it as everyone believes?
When the story reaches national news and Imogen’s photo is plastered everywhere, something darker than local rumours comes to her door. Because five years ago Imogen Sharp didn’t exist, and now even the most remote place in Canada can no longer be her refuge.
I have a couple of other domestic thrillers I’d like to write–it’s been really good for my brain to switch gears to something completely different–so hopefully this’ll become a new thing I juggle between other projects.
More updates coming with next month’s State of the Union!