“Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor…”
December has indeed been bleak for me, darlings, but it’s nearly over. The longest night of the year has past.
It has been a year of new friendships; of opening the curtain to allow new players to join the company. Of lots and lots of writing.
Two novels and a novella finished, a book of short stories accepted for publication, and Volume Two of the Memoirs being prepared for publication.
A successful Kickstarter campaign, meeting Amanda Palmer, GETTING MARRIED, being Freshly Pressed – twice – and getting to blog hop all over the place with stories both sad and wonderful. Surviving another year — beating depression back time and time again. I’m still here.
I’m remembering these things in the bleakness of December because I ran out of steam. And while I felt really strange about that, it’s almost like December became my time of rest, which I so obviously and desperately needed, darlings. I may be tired now, and occasionally melancholy, but this isn’t the end. I’m not about to forget how to write, or lose my love of it. I’m just all tired out after a very long squawk. I’m pining for the Fjords.
(Beautiful plumage, that Norwegian Blue)
And so I wish you a very happy holiday — or just a restful rest of the year if you don’t celebrate anything — and thank you, from the bottom of whatever shriveled little thing passes for my heart — for a wonderful 2014.
Now I leave you with three words, that are a sort of victory cry for me, and are all the happy ending you’re going to get for now:
TO BE CONTINUED…