As we stand at the precipice of another new year, I am mottled with thoughts. Where we have been, as well as where we endeavor to go, are among them. I have decisions to make and yet cannot find terra firma to stand upon. I have never been one to make choices without a foundation beneath me to dig in. I am at odds, and unsettled.
I know that as the end of the third book in the series wraps to close, I have to make a choice. I have vacillated for months now about this decision. I am no closer to making it now than when I began. It has delayed production twice so far. Indecision is not normally part of my nature. This time, it is a choice between what I planned to do from the start, and what has developed since, but also it is a result. A result of watching reactions, sales, shares, and anticipation, or lack of anticipation.
I know, there are those who have been reading from the beginning who are ready to string me up by my toes to finish. I am so grateful to them that I cannot see straight most days. The truth is, I am a realist. I know, that is a weird arse thing for a fantasy writer to say, but it’s true. And, reality is that the numbers have not grown to sustain the work. Writing is a huge commitment to produce and follow through, but when the return on the labor is not there, it is more difficult to want to continue. Realist me does, and doesn’t.
I know, we are getting ready to start a new year and it should be an exciting time as we get ready to turn the page. I am. I am also, not. Like I said, I’m a realist. I believe thus that it is only fair that those who are following along, wondering what the bloody hells has happened to the next installment in the story, should know where I am. It’s only fair. I’m here somewhere. Just don’t ask where somewhere is. I’m not sure I know that.