I’ve been off the grid for a bit struggling with something I suspect a lot of writers go through, but I didn’t realize how much so until I started talking to some folks about it.

A sadness. A mini-depression, if you will.

Empty nest syndrome after finishing a heavy project.

It’s discombobulating, a little scary and lonely when you realize you’ve finished a project that’s occupied the majority of your thoughts and energy for the last five years. I’ve grown so close to my characters, breathed deeply of the world Aria for so long that suddenly – the real world feels cold and alien. Unfriendly.

How weird is that?

Furthermore, the difficulty in finding placement for ‘Murder of Crows’ has seeded doubt in the validity of the work, and brought a horde of questions to mind about whether I’m wasting my time by continuing the series or continuing to push for the writing dream.

Then I remember, oh, right. It’s been like a month and a half. Seriously. Chill out.

All the reader feedback has been positive, encouraging, uplifting. And I learned SO MUCH from this process and how to make it better next time, along with what things not to do and which mistakes not to make, that I can’t imagine not continuing because the learning curve was so sharp and amazing, challenging and helpful.

I just haven’t received a sense of actual fulfillment yet. This has created a strange, bewildering sense of being lost. Somewhat adrift.

Logic and conditioning tell me to sit my ass down in the chair and get back to writing, while worldly fear and angst push me harder to sell the book and find a foothold in the market so I can write without stressing out.

But what’s really happening is that I sit in front of the window, staring out at the trees, dreaming of new adventures and faraway places, while wondering why I feel like crying without any warning.

To be fair, I’m sure there are other factors besides the completion of the book driving this emotional rollercoaster. I suspect that now that my health is back to nearly normal, that I’m free to grieve. I also imagine that when I was so close to dying, and used the book as a floatation device, “write or die” and kept getting back up to get the story on the paper – now I don’t have that sense of necessity. There’s nothing to cling to.

Maybe I’m just letting the pieces fall apart that I held together over the last year of chaos and strain – weeping now that it’s actually safe to cry and let it all go before moving on to the next big thing.

It’s an emotional house cleaning so that I can re-boot to a greater strength. But knowing that doesn’t make it comfortable. Nor does it make it move faster.

It will take however long it takes to get through the debris of the last three years, and clear the field for something tremendous and worthy of the work.  

In the meantime, I can only do what I can do. Keep trying to sell the book. Keep plotting, building the arc and fleshing characters.

I need to get back to a place of center in the woods. Return to the water. Return to the spiritualism that got set aside during the time of panic. Be still and feel it. Be outside.

Breathe.

The magic is coming.

Tags: Athena, empty nest syndrome, Murder of Crows, writer depression

The evolution of Liam in my life and on the blog is a constant source of entertainment and amusement for me. In the beginning when I’d say to friends, “I need to go home, Liam’s getting antsy about getting this chapter finished.”

They’d nod with a confused smile as I left a party or bailed on a function. I’d hear them asking questions of one another as I walked out, “Who’s Liam?” “Has anyone met this Liam guy?” “Is she dating someone?”

Then over the years, as blogs came forth and the story of Liam became public – the questions behind my back as I left gatherings went like so, “She knows he’s not real, right?” “Is she…you know…medicated?” “Does she talk to all her imaginary characters?”

Finally, six years later the questions happen AS I get to the party, “Hey! How’s Liam?” “What has Liam been up to?” “What did he think about your trip to Utah?” “What did Liam think about the book?”

Which only goes to show, if you commit to a behavior long enough and with enough conviction – it doesn’t matter how crazy it looks from the outside – people will eventually accept it as inevitable.

Last fall one of my friends even asked me, in all seriousness, as we were having drinks, “So does Liam approve of the guy you’ve been going out with?” I would have busted up laughing, if she hadn’t seemed so earnest.

Now, as I’m coming into contact with strangers who know nothing of Liam’s origins but what they’ve read in ‘Murder of Crows’, the questions are shifting perspective. They are less of a personal nature in how he relates to my life and the intimacy we have in the realm of writer and character and more about the development of his character within the confines of the book and the world of Aria.

“What’s going to happen to Fable and Liam?” “Does Liam understand how Earth really works?” “What does he do on Aria when he’s not on Earth?”

Every question is precious to me as a writer because it helps me understand how to write him even more convincingly so that he is less a figment of imagination, and more a part of the world.

I’m excited that he will continue to unfold in the imaginations of strangers who will hopefully be able to adore him as much as I do. He might not make hot chocolate for them and complain about low ceilings or narrow doorways around them like he does with me, but hopefully he will spark a little inspiration – and when they see a dark shadow swoop across the pavement, I hope they glance up to the sky and wave.

Living with a character as impressive as Liam is not always easy. There are perpetual gouges in the linoleum and hardwoods from his talons. Feathers are always clogging the shower drain. I have to buy marshmallows and cocoa at Costco to keep up with the demand. And the guy sucks at laundry, I’m telling you, so many of my jeans have been ruined with bleach it’s unreal.

But the payoff is obviously worth it. He keeps me on track. Keeps me coming back to my computer to write, create, imagine. It would be a lonely, isolating process if not for the company of the personalities populating the space between worlds.

Liam is as real to me, as the friends and family I talk on the phone with, chat on facebook with and meet for coffee.

And I hope he will be that real for many readers…for years to come.