Who proudly releases the long awaited conclusion to a bestselling series while the world burns? Literally burning in some places… (raises hand, with sheepish look on face).
My timing is shit. I know it. No one is excited about books at the moment—-particularly books that are more than a year overdue for release. It’s okay. Honestly, a year ago I wasn’t even thinking about books…or two years ago, when my Gretel had become so sick that she had trouble getting out of bed and walking downstairs in the morning. At that point we didn’t know why and neither did the doctors. Her cancer was sneaky as hell and had hidden itself in a place that had already been screened for cancer only a short time earlier.
Personally, the timing of my release had more to do with the window between gut-wrenching grief/despair/anger, and the next round of treatments (whenever that might be). So I didn’t have a whole lot of choice in my schedule. Scott needed an end, and I had a moment to give it to him.
You know? I almost killed Scott off in Wolfe Trap. I seriously considered ending the series back in 2014 with a heroic gesture that would have cut the run in half. I’m glad I didn’t. It was a good run. I liked being a bestselling author. It was fun talk at parties.
But while the number of authors (indie or otherwise) has grown on Amazon, the number of readers has shrunk of late. Apparently, reading is some elitist activity and has fallen out of fashion while the planet has sunk into political chaos, and others are just too busy screaming on social media to sit down and crack a book. Kudos to you, the reading elite. When the rubble of the world stops smouldering, all eyes will turn to you…the smart ones…the ones who know drinking bleach is a bad thing. Prepare to be the leaders of humanity.
So rejoice, you elite readers. You have a unique position in the world, frustrating as it might be. You open your mind and let in the personalities of others, good, bad, flawed…and you do it in a way that informs your opinions and understanding. That’s admirable.
I look forward to a moment when things calm down in the world—-when intelligence, reason, and experience count as currency again. Until then, I’ll pound the keyboard when I can, try to stay in the moment with my family, and regret having so many skeletons in my closet that there’s no way I’d ever be able to run for public office.
In this moment, the day after the release of Splinter Self, I’ll open Scrivener, and write five or six thousand words of another book…maybe it will be released and maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll release it under a different pen name (it’s been known to happen). But I’ll enjoy spinning a world that I have absolute control over, to compensate for the one outside my window that fell to shit while I was distracted with my grief in care-giving.
Chin up. It’s not all bad. At least we don’t have to fight Nazis anymore.
Wait? What’s that? Oh shit.
Never mind. We’re doomed.