So it’s the end of the year and the beginning of a blog hiatus from me!
I’ll still be around, but not posting as regularly as before on social media. I really don’t know what the next year will be like. Every new baby has their own demands and personality, and we still have to get to know our new little one.
Hoping that 2020 brings a bit of light and hope into your life. In the meantime, I’ll likely be sending SOS messages over Twitter. See you around!
Sometimes it feels like nothing is happening in publishing, despite working nearly constantly. This is a sloooow business… until it’s not. It’s hard not to second guess your decisions, the quality of your work, or your creative choices.
There is so much that I’m unsure of about my career – what’s normal, what’s not – because there’s so little I can control, but I never expected that the biggest obstacle to being a writer would be myself.
The honest truth is that the only thing I can do is keep my head down and not compare my journey with others.
So I’m about to turn another year older, and so comes a reckoning of what I have done and failed to accomplish.
I have somehow managed to do six beta reads of other people’s stories and I’ve finished and revised the latest novel roughly 8 times (this is normal for me), but it still needs at least one more round so that I can integrate some feedback from my kick-ass CP’s. HUGE THANK YOUS Steph, Katrina, and Alechia <3
And…. that’s all. Pregnancy is it’s own challenge. Not puking everyday is a feat in itself. Taking care of myself is exhausting. I can’t even reach the nozzle on the kitchen sink anymore. I have bouts of insomnia along with leg cramps, back pain, and you name the non-life-threatening pregnancy complaint and I’m probably going through it. I’m just trying to keep it together physically, while mentally I’m trying to prepare for the hard work and sleepless nights that come with a new small child (in addition to an older already demanding one).
Mostly it’s the uncertainty that has me tossing and turning at night. What will my life be like in a few months? I worried that my first child would mean the end of my writing career, and that didn’t happen, but it took a very long time to manage a stable enough place to start creating again. Post-partum depression is no joke.
This time, I’m sure that the hard times will pass and that writing will be possible in the future, but I don’t know how long it will take. Months? Years? How much more of myself will I have to give up temporarily? Permanently?
And yet there’s only so much you can do to prepare. I know I will love this kid with everything, just like the first one – but I’m still a little scared.