Summer is Coming

I’m writing this while sitting at the patio table on my deck, with flies buzzing, bullfrogs and robins singing, a dog laying nearby, and a couple of pots of pink dahlias in my line of sight. The dregs of my morning coffee sit beside my laptop, and the sun will soon tilt high enough in the sky that I’ll have to retreat indoors. But for now, I’m enjoying, for the first time ever in May, a morning working outside on my deck.

It’s peaceful. And healing.

There are definitely worse views…

It’s not often I go two months without updating this blog, and when I do, there are always reasons. Big reasons.

This time is no exception. After starting this year with so much hope and optimism, the last two months have been filled with enough drama and trauma to last me five years and another lifetime of therapy.

I’m not going to go into details, but the Coles notes (a.k.a. “summary” for my non-Canadian friends) is that my dad had another acute episode that involved him staying with us for a couple weeks before things got super-bad and he ended up in the psych ward for a month. Miraculously, he’s now recovered enough to be at home, and hopefully will avoid the situation that got him there in the first place from now on. This is, however, responsible for most of my current angst.

While that was going on, my maternal grandmother and my young niece both died on Easter Sunday. One was much more tragic than the other.

But more people know about my grandma than the other two incidents, which makes conversations interesting. Yes, I’m sad Grandma is gone, but honestly, her advanced dementia meant she’d been “gone” in almost every way for years, and she’s finally at peace. The other two situations I’m grieving aren’t just sad, though. There is a lot to process with both.

Just yesterday, I ran into one of my mom’s acquaintances who started going into this long (to me) string of condolences about my grandmother, and all I could think of was, “My grandmother? That’s, like, practically a blessing compared to everything else.” And then I word-vomited something along that line and fled.

Yep. I’m adulting well these days.

Which is why I’m seriously considering blowing off work as much as possible today so I can go play in the dirt… I mean, um, work in my yard. Weather like this in northern Alberta is rare in spring, and I feel like I’ve wasted so many springs stuck behind a desk. Last year, I spent spring at my father’s hospital bed, barely seeing the sun, and missed it altogether here in the north.

Not only that, my capacity has definitely shrunk again lately. I can bury myself in work, if I get involved in something, but then I pay for it later. And I don’t know if it’s trauma brain or perimenopause brain or a combination, but my concentration and focus are shot.

I could just blame spring cabin fever though. I mean, practically everyone’s feeling that.

And I can’t help but feel that playing in the dirt might be a therapy of its own. After all, I know that I tend to put my own health, pleasure, and mental well-being behind every other responsibility, and I’m trying to change that. That’s partly how I got here. Or maybe mainly.

I do have that Christmas novel I’m writing. But today, with the first hint of green coming out in the lawn, Christmas (or November, when the novel is slated to release) feels like an awfully long way away. :-)

Speaking of writing, I feel like I should mention the recent progress I’ve made in that department. Because yes, I’ve still been writing a little, despite everything.

I’m a little over a third of the way through the first draft of Every Bell that Rings, the second book in my sweet romance series. It’s an enemies-to-lovers thing, but since it’s sweet and clean, the “enemies” part is more like “you annoy me and I’m bearing a grudge” than full-on war. I haven’t written this trope before, so it’s been fun to work through it. I have a feeling I’ll be tweaking in a little more tension during the revisions, too.

And, as per usual, issues dear to my heart seem to be working their way in there. Like the plight of foster kids, and homophobia, and what it means to really love someone. And yes, addictions. That one’s a little closer to my current situation than I wish it were, which may be why I feel like I’m struggling with the plot a bit. But, as I said, I’m working through it. No matter how messy it gets, I’ll fix it in revisions.

And! I now have a handy-dandy little progress chart in my blog sidebar for folks who like to check on those sorts of stats. (And seeing the little bar creep across the chart is good for me, too.)

My non-fiction book-in-progress, The Flexible Writer’s Blueprint, is on hold until I get this Christmas book finished and ready to go.

And, after all the recent drama, I’m getting very anxious to start writing the next volume in my Rise of the Grigori series. Sweet romance is great, but what I really want to write are some big feelings and epic stakes and world-ending problems I can solve on the page—where it feels so much easier to do than in real life.

Okay, excuse my drama. I feel like I’m a bit justified right now, though.

A couple weeks ago, I was playing around with Canva’s text-to-image AI art generator and came up with some cool new promo images to use for the Rise of the Grigori series. I can’t stop staring at this picture of Calandra…

While I’m at it, I should probably mention that the entire Rise of the Grigori series is on sale this month for Mer-May. And I’m participating in some other book promotions too.

Alright, it’s time to decide what to do with the rest of my day. Write? Take a walk? Go hack at some weeds?

The possibilities are endless…

But I take courage in knowing that, no matter how dark the winter, summer is coming.

A photo of a framed poem my grandmother Ivis McCarty painted and gave away many times. This one has been hanging in her room for the last decade or so. It’s a reminder I need right now.

Blessings, friend. I hope whatever 2023 has brought your way so far, you’ll be better for it in the long run.

And me too.