I promised readers two books before the end of December. (Sorry, that’s running into 2019) I had my first real bout of writer’s block this year. It was like every sentence I eked out took a part of myself. Layers of muscle and blood to create a paragraph. It was slow and painful. I worried that I would never find “the flow” again. That maybe I was done, had written everything I was allowed. Or maybe I’d wasted my time and that had finally run out. To say I was worried was an understatement. To the point where I even stopped writing this post…for a whole month.
Okay. Perspective. I’ve got a bit more now. There’s lots of things I could say about this process. That you can’t rush it. That I can’t write anything soul stretching to a deadline. Mostly, I want to tell you that I’ve learned to breathe. No, I’m not going to have two more books ready this year. You’ll have to be patient with me a little longer if you’re one of the people waiting. What I can promise you is that I am continuing to give my all. Despite an intense new job and dealing with mental illness, I’m writing. Because to not write would be like not breathing. We all know how that ends. So I’ll keep writing and, hopefully, you’ll keep reading.
I have a little treat to help tide you over. The following is the first page of Pure Red Sand: A Family Affair (Coming 2019). There will also be some of Julianne in the next few weeks.
Questions? Thoughts? Encouragement? Please reach out!
The wind swept across the red desert as it had for millions of years before humans had ever alighted and would continue to do so for millions of years after the last traces of their civilization had been consumed by the sand. The haze faded from the horizon for a brief moment, exposing no footsteps but the traces of tire marks on the rockier patches leading to the horizon. The wind drifted along this artificial trail, winding amongst the rocks and gathering sand up only to leave it to rest again. It settled on the rocks, on the trail and finally on the hands that reached up in silent vigil to the sky. Weathered and dried to mere husks, the remains of humanity at the bottom of the ravine might have been a final reminder of what was to come until the wind blew again and obscured them from sight.
Nadine jerked awake. There was violence, something burning. Where was Sven?! There was pain and she couldn’t move. She needed to move, get away. She blinked against the quickly dissipating vision and realized she could only see out of her left eye, staring at a bright white light. She blinked the tears away and finally made out a moving wall. Walls don’t move. She tried to speak but her mouth was dried out and there was a tube there. What had they done to her? Had the men from Earth finally tracked her down? Trying to spit it out, she gagged instead. Then there was a strange woman in a medic uniform over her. The woman’s teeth shone brightly against her dark skin as she smiled and said something in a reassuring tone but Nadine couldn’t quite make it out. She didn’t feel any calmer. Then everything went black again.