My NaNoWriMo book is done, though of course I’m not.

National Novel Writing Month, for those new to it, involves writing a “book” in a month, and it happens every November. The definition of a book there is 50 000 words–and unless you’re writing young adult (sometimes) or category romance length books, usually a book is running longer than that (though FYI, The Silent Places was like 56K IIRC–it just worked better taut and anything else would be filler).

Because I guess how dopamine is processed in my brain is a little wonky, I get a nice chemical hit in my head with things like word count. 50K in thirty days is like 1667/day, which is great, but I operate a little differently…so I knocked out that first 50K in seven days.

So some people were a little concerned about me burning out since that was my follow up to writing the last 45K of Livi 6 in four days (yes, we’re looking at almost 100K in two weeks, I’m nuts), so I dropped my daily count to 2K a day–except for Wednesdays, my scheduled writing day (thanks, Patreon!), and Saturday night when I do my weekly write-in (again, thanks, patrons!).

I finished the book today, at 83K.

I have hated a good chunk of it, especially this last half, as I realized I had no idea where I was going. Usually by that point I have an idea, even when I’m writing by the seat of my pants. There are varying methods for me when writing across a spectrum: you’ve got The Silent Places, that dropped out of my head complete with the backstory and full ending before I even wrote the first word; you’ve got the Livi Talbot series and, by virtue of it living in my head for nearly ten years, I know the endings to each book ahead of time so I’ve got a guide book; and then you’ve got Dweller on the Threshold, where I knew a couple of things but not really the ending until I was more than halfway through, making it up as I went along.

This new one–Watcher of the Woods (or Haunted Vacation Lesbians if you follow me elsewhere) was one of those where I was flying by the seat of my pants but no fucking idea where I was going to land. Usually by halfway, I know or have an idea. By 75%, I always know. This one, I kept adding elements, leaving myself notes, trying to see through the fog while completely clueless. Even as it came to a conclusion today, I still wasn’t 100% sure it was coming together…

Right until the very, very last line, which I did not know I would write until I actually wrote it.

It’s this bizarre kind of magic that is fascinating to be apart of. Note that I am aware all of this stuff comes from my brain, and I do not believe my skill was some kind of gift. I write because it’s how I learned to cope with trauma. Telling myself stories as a very, very small child allowed me a safe place to fall asleep in, to retreat to, to keep me company. And because it was my only real reliable coping mechanism, I used it again and again as I grew up, and using it brought skills. I learned how to tell better stories more clearly, with more depth, through the practice I fell into just trying to survive, and I’m lucky enough to make some money with it now because I’d fucking suck at a job outside the home.

But it still feels like magic when it happens, my subconscious mind laying out all these pieces I don’t know what to do with until I get to the part where they all come together.

So it turns out, much to my genuine surprise, I can probably beat this one into shape eventually. I’ve got my release schedule set for about eighteen months so I’m not sure where I’ll slot this one in–for now, at least I’ve got something roughly done and I can worry about it later.

But as I said, I’m not done yet–I still want to do 2K a day to keep up the habit for November. So I’m pulling out the second Waverly Jones book, A Wild Kind of Darkness, which I started and got 19K into when I finished her first one in September before I switched to Livi 6, with an eye to get another 30K done on it this month.

To recap, I started this summer in a really rough spot, exhausted from Livi 5 revisions eating my brain for months. And now…

• July – finished Witch Hunt
• August – wrote Dweller on the Threshold
• September – finished The Killing Beach
• October – finished Charon’s Gold
• November – wrote Watcher of the Woods

I am still fucking amazed at that. I mean, it helps that I’ve been on corticosteroids off and on, which not only helps my mood but for a chunk of that time I could actually eat and absorb nutrients, which helps my brain, and also I’m still isolated–my health is fragile so I’m locked away with my imaginary friends. And I had to get that new laptop in September, so I can actually work easier from bed now.

Everything is terrible but this is one thing I feel really good about, even though it likely won’t last.

December I’ve scheduled myself Livi 6 revisions, to get it in shape for another set of eyes, but I might also try to finish A Wild Kind of Darkness, and in January I’m starting Hell Fire. Of course my body is falling apart again so…we’ll see.

For now, I’m taking the win.

(Also here’s the cover for those not on NaNo or Patreon.)

I started the summer with three books in progress, hoping to finish at least one or two.

In July I finished one.

In August, I wrote a whole new book (because that’s how I roll).

In September, I finished a second.

And now? I’ve finally finished that third I had in progress four months ago.

After some very intense writing days as well as evenings after work–in which I wrote 45 000 words over five days (that number is not a typo), I finished a book last night. My brain is mush (yet I’m still not exhausted enough to sleep–yay insomnia). Don’t ask me how I did that as I’m not sure I could repeat the process, but the bare bones mess of a zero draft is done. I’ll maybe take December to do a big round of revision (it’s going to be a lot of work) before arranging editing for next year.

So I’ve done a lot in the last few months, burning the candle at both ends. I’m anticipating a lot of doctor stuff starting in January–meds, tests, all that stress–so at least I’ll have a buffer of writing projects done and can just pick at revision when everything becomes about my shitty health again.

At this point it’s clear I absolutely cannot talk about the books publicly until they’re written because every. damn. thing. threw me off. I need to be pressure-free when writing, at least as much as possible. So my thanks to everyone who said “Whenever it comes, I’ll be waiting” without nagging, because that support meant so, so much to me.

And now up for preorder…

Livi #6: Charon’s Gold

Livi Talbot is no longer the woman she once was.

She has suffered great loss. She has been betrayed.

And after failing to stop the greatest villain she has ever faced, she’s determined to never be blindsided again.

Her first priority is to rescue a suffering soul from the underworld itself. Though fellow adventurer Iluka Grantham is at her side to hunt down the gold coins that will allow her to cross the river Styx, entering the underworld through the deadly Pluto’s Gate in Turkey remans solely on her shoulders. Survival in the world of the dead isn’t guaranteed, even for Livi Talbot, and this journey will bring her face to face with her greatest failures, her biggest losses, and her inability to save those she loves.

And if she survives? The next goal is to go after every person responsible for the death that caused magic to bleed back into the human realm.

Even if they’re family.

Coming in ebook and paperback October 25 2022

Kindle | Kobo | iBooks | Nook 

While being bigger in scope and more fantastic than some of the other books, it’s simultaneously a much more intimate story. Structurally it’s different from the others and, as usual, I’m not sure how it’ll land with readers, but I’m proud of it and excited nonetheless. It’s deeply personal, digging into the root of trauma and how we come to terms with it…and also involves killer mermaids.

I’ll tell you more about it next year.

Now to prepare my marketing materials…

…and figure out what I’m writing next month lol.

As y’all know, I freelance in addition to writing.

Having a viable career in this field means multiple income streams, so for me that involves freelance editing, design, and layout/formatting dispersed among my writing. I’ve done this for several years now after leaving publishing in 2013, and though writing is taking up the bulk of my time so I rarely take on new clients, I have a stable of regular writers and publishers I’ve worked with for years now.

One thing nearly all of them have in common this past year and a half is that the pandemic affected them in huge ways.

Much of last year wasn’t so bad. The pandemic was new. Most of my schedule was for projects clients had completed the bulk of back in 2019 so I was pretty on track. A few blips but not a lot of delays.

Then the pandemic wore on.

And a lot of people struggled to write.

By the time 2021 rolled around, my schedule–typically booked at least six months in advance–was in complete disarray because everyone else’s was as well. I’d go two months without scheduled projects landing and then get four at once. People weren’t just trying to write with the constant buzz of anxiety around a global pandemic–they were trying to write around funerals. COVID-19 touched nearly everyone I know in some way or another–even if they didn’t lose a loved one to it, “normal” deaths meant funerals were fraught with anxiety. People got sick. People didn’t entirely recover. People have had to delay routine healthcare for a year. People also had to deal with hearing daily how much their lives didn’t matter if they had other health issues or were already compromised in some way; they heard from their neighbours and family and friends that they should just “get over” any concerns about a virus still running rampant potentially disabling them. Households lost income.

None of these things are conductive to creativity.

The myth of the starving artist needs to die. As much as writing can be a refuge, creativity truly flourishes when writers are fed, sheltered, and safe. Writing requires the use of your brain and, surprise!, when your mind is burning fuel being terrified about the state of the world, you don’t have the mental resources for creativity. You’re living in constant fight or flight mode. A global pandemic meant a lot of people were–and continue to be–feeling incredibly unsafe.

Reading is a refuge as well, I realize.

Many of us sank into entertainment. Some folks struggled with their usual forms of escape and had to find new outlets. Some just reread/rewatched the same favourites for comfort. Some found new stories to dive into.

The Livi Talbot series was written as an ongoing story about a woman who has been through terrible things–and continues to go through terrible things–but finds a way to come out the other side. I want to take you through hell–literally in the next one–and bring you back into the light with me, to show it can be done. As a result, I know those books helped some folks during the pandemic and with the things they’re going through. And knowing Livi is a lifeline for some readers means a tremendous amount to me.

I bring this up to say I get it. I get how important stories are to people. It’s how I make my living! It’s how I survive! It’s how I design many of my stories!

However…

When creatives, en masse, are struggling through massive global changes, you do not get stories written any faster when you call them lazy. When you demand more. When you mock them for being behind on their deadlines. When you email them to “get back to work”.

I know writers who typically put out two to three books a year who have struggled to finish one thing this year, and when they’re coming out the other side, holding up a new book, feeling like they’ve just climbed Everest, they get snarky responses like “Ugh, finally–what took so long”.

Tell me, have you written a book?

During a global pandemic?

While multiple friends and family are sick and dying?

Afraid that every time you go to the grocery store you’re going to die?

Knowing that by not releasing a new book, you can’t afford groceries?

Shaming doesn’t work and we are painfully aware at all times that we’re disappointing readers.

Believe me, not releasing a book in over a year hurts. We can’t coast on existing monthly sales (at least, no one I know can). Our incomes rely on regularly releasing books–I promise, no one is intentionally jerking around readers. Ninety percent of my clients are struggling and I realize it’s a small sample size but all of them I’ve talked to have said everyone they know is struggling as well. You’d be hard-pressed to find another point in recent history where all writers, on a global scale, are missing deadlines and struggling to this degree. And as they have delays, their editors–both freelance and among larger publishers–are then struggling as well. Artists are struggling. It’s affecting the entire publishing ecosystem, whether you’re with the Big Four or self-publishing or anything in between.

A friend of mine has talked openly about the fact that a few years ago she posted an update apologizing for being behind schedule on a book but her father had just died and she was traveling for the funeral so she’d be a little while before she could dive back in–and immediately she received replies back that said, without exaggeration, “everyone’s got problems–that’s no excuse, get back to work.”

In April of this year I was literally bedridden for several days, in tremendous pain, possibly facing a life-threatening emergency if the bedrest didn’t help, struggling with a super high fever, and I posted–from bed! on my iPad!–the monthly excerpt on Patreon a couple of weeks behind schedule (still in April!) with apologies and an explanation…and immediately had complaints that I wasn’t active enough posting there so folks were withdrawing support. Which honestly did not surprise me because in 2014 when I spent six months in bed with a mystery illness before diagnosis, I expressed my apologies and said it would be time before Oblivion could be written and right away I go a dozen emails telling me they didn’t care about my health and I “owed” them that book.

So, like, two examples, but if either of them seem a little cruel to you?

Consider for a moment that most writers have been through–are going through!–the equivalent of that for a year and a half now. Whether they tell you the intimate details of their lives–which no one is actually entitled to know!–or not, there is no reason to be snarky, mean, or demanding.

Writers are not vending machines. With a few exceptions, we are not churning out books nonstop regardless of the collective trauma everyone is going through right now. And you know what? This post isn’t even about me. I had a pretty productive few months–and I’ve been tremendously proud of what I’ve accomplished–so while I get a bit of shit, it is nothing compared to what friends and clients of mine are getting from people.

Atop everything going on, it’s exhausting. And it does not make writing during all of this any easier.

If your favourite writer has been unusually quiet with the book updates or behind their usual schedule, consider there’s a lot going on behind the scenes. You do not need to email or DM them reminding them that they’re failing you by not putting out a new book. And when they do release something or make an announcement? Here are some things you can say:

• congratulations!
• looking forward to it!
• I’m so happy for you!
• preordered!
• I’m so excited I’m going to reread your other books in preparation!

It costs you nothing to choose a patient, decent response instead of a bitchy one.

Try to think of points in your life when you’ve been fighting to stay afloat, already aware that you’re disappointing everyone, worried about your income, dealing with major life trauma, and consider how the harshest words did not get you out of that spiral. Consider the kinds of things that helped.

In essence: be kind to people.

Creatives are struggling just as much as everyone else through this.