The Muses have fled, or so I thought. Without putting too
fine a point on it, 2018 was one of the most difficult years of my life. Let’s
set aside the global drama and fractious state of politics (as a wonk, I dread
to think how much time I’ve spent simply refreshing my Twitter feed). For me,
it’s been a year of coping with an array of family issues and navigating a
turbulent career path. My life as an author took the back burner while I spent
much of my time getting up to speed in new skills and acclimating to what has
amounted to nonstop chaos. Stress ruled the year, and while I found time to
start doing research for my fifth novel, the heart of the story has failed to
coalesce thus far. Vague impressions about the style and setting of the novel
swirl in my mind, and I can list the main characters, but the story won’t
actually get anywhere until I start writing.
Writing has been like breathing for years, but with so many
dramatic changes in a short period of time, words failed me. I felt lost, like
I was failing at what I was most passionate about. I even began to wonder if I
was going to ever seriously write again. It was an easy enough conclusion to
come to after my fourth novel was published in 2016. After all, I started it in
1994. While not the first novel I set out to write, it was the most cohesive,
and didn’t function like a work of fan fiction like my first effort did (the Dragonlance series is effectively what
pushed me into the creative sphere in high school. A few handwritten pages
still exist, but most of the work has been lost). The fourth novel, Lords of Kur, was a cornerstone that
helped me through dark days—it took so many years to cultivate an actual novel
out of the concept. But with its publication, I realized something had changed
in me as an artist. Understanding how to roll with it and cope was the hard
part.
Toward the end of 2018 something took hold. I had become
more settled in my job and there was more time to focus. As I looked back on my
fractured past it became clear that there was more to it than time management.
My voice as an artist changed. I just didn’t catch on. How I present myself has
changed a lot too. As I prepare to write novel number five, I find I’m thinking
about the narrative differently than I used to. All my stories have focused on
extraordinary women who have been marginalized by history. While I’ll never let
go of that concept entirely, the next few novels in development forge a new
path. Because my focus has been historical fiction, I rely on tons of research
in the beginning of each story. This time is no different. But rather than stringently
adhere to a historical timeline, the stories are getting more complex with
themes and character development.
As much as I appreciate the opportunity to evolve as an
artist, the struggle of that evolution can be discouraging. In today’s fast-paced
world where content and social media happen at a dizzying pace, it’s hard to remember
that some art takes time. I used to beat myself up for not sticking to a schedule—I
should be reaching my tenth novel if all had gone according to plan (LOL!), but
instead of worrying about running out of time, I’ve learned to embrace patience.
Maybe it’s growing older.
Maybe it’s a new level of maturity as a writer. I’m
bolder than I used to be, and I’m finally ready to be myself more openly,
rather than trying to be invisible, which was how I spent too much of my time. In
any case, I’m happy to be moving forward again, and rediscovering a facet of
myself that had been lost in 2018.
Best wishes in all your endeavors for 2019!
