I love you, but I’m writing…



Writing is something you do alone. It’s a profession for introverts who wanna tell you a story, but don’t wanna make eye contact while telling it.”

-John Green

I have started writing my new book, The Fairy Door. I am completely immersed in creating new characters, new realms, new story lines, and crazy plots that will be woven throughout this six, yes I said six, book series.

Of course I’m not ready to discuss all of it right now because I’m writing.

To those of you who may not know this, when an author is writing, we are not here on this earth with all of you. Our bodies may be present, but our minds are spinning in a million different directions.

To even carry on a conversation for more than five minutes is difficult. If we’re at the start of a chapter, we’re trying to figure out how to begin in a clever manner that will entice our readers. If we are at the end of a chapter, we are trying to weave our story so that it flows continuously to the start of the next chapter.

If we are in the middle of a chapter…well, forget about it, walk away until we emerge or initiate contact.

I’m a week and 40,000 words into my new book. That means I’m in the nitty-gritty. I’m waist deep in the creative mud and I’m not wading out any time soon.

What started in my head as a quick, fun two book series has turned into a major project that I will be engaged in for quite some time. The first book is the most important. I have to get into the background for my main characters and then I have to set up, and throw in hints about the next several books.

No big deal, right? Just another day in the life of an author.

I have used the phrase of my blog post, I love you, but I’m writing, all week. It’s so difficult to explain to people about how I feel when I’m writing. Let me be clear, I love my husband, I love my children, I love my family, and I love my small group of friends.

I want to be involved in their life and show interest, but honestly unless there is a death, bloody horrific injury, or an extreme sadness that has befallen on them, I just find it difficult to muster up any interest or appropriate response. There may be people that are hurt by that statement, but it’s honest and real.

I know how awful that sounds and I wish I didn’t even write that, but it’s true. I am a selfish, self-involved, slightly narcissistic artist. I wish I could be a better person when I write, but I haven’t found that balance yet and I’m not sure if I ever will or if I want too.

I like crawling so far into myself that its hard to get out. I enjoy the creative madness. When I slump on my bed and finally go to sleep, the exhaustion makes me feel alive because I know that the harder I push myself, the better the result will be.

To even take time to write this blog is tough, but I suppose my sense of guilt was weighing heavily on my mind.

I do believe living in your head all the time and making up stories can be dangerous to ones mental health. I am a big proponent of taking breaks in between writing and polishing up drafts, but your first draft is so important.

You want to capture the magic of your thoughts as they whirl around seductively in your mind. The tortuous groan of your keyboard only heightens your ambition and it tickles your senses.

I’m in my happy place right now. I’m writing my stories, not only for me, but for other people out there to hopefully enjoy. I wish I could sit down and have an in-depth conversation about what I am trying to achieve and what these books will be about, but I can’t right now and I hope you understand.

So in conclusion, I love you, I really do, but I’m writing. I promise to come back to the land of the living and when I do I will be better than ever!










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