I’ve been attending a lot of author events since the world went virtual. At first, the number of events was overwhelming. It felt as if every creative individual wanted a piece of me, which is silly because no one knows me, other than y’all. Thanks, for being here.

The announcements for these events were exciting and tempting because of their convenience, and irritating because of their convenience. Because if I’d attended all the events my little heart coveted, I never would’ve finished the first round of revisions on time. And I got mad. Scram! I’ve got a novel to rewrite! Of course, I never said that aloud for fear of people taking me seriously. Truth is I don’t want to be left alone, well, maybe a little. But not completely, which of course is obvious since I write to y’all every week.  

Once the panic over our social distancing way of life quieted down and my comfort zone with the revision process grew, I was able to sandwich my favorite author launches and conversations into my writing schedule without guilt. These events have been a wellspring of inspiration. Each one delivering exactly what I needed to hear in order to get back to the page.

Most of the authors I’ve been listening to already have a handful of books published. They’re also all younger than me and in a groove of offering a new book to the world every year or two. Years ago, that knowledge would’ve stirred jealousy and my Whores of Negativity would’ve given me an unhealthy bruising. This week neither appeared. Perhaps because my demons are finally getting slain in therapy and on the page, or perhaps because I’m learning how to surrender enough for my creativity to nurture me.

Truth— I’m not getting any younger. Even if this revision leads to an agent and a book deal, the chance of me leaving a dozen or more books on the shelves in a bookstore near you once I leave this earthly plane is possible, but the probability is— well, the probability doesn’t matter because I am destined to write the number of books I am destined to write. No more, no less just like every other writer.  

Truth— How many more days of writing are available for me is a mystery that can’t be solved. To try would be a waste of energy. Stories are waiting in the wings— one in particular is nattering at me to get this New Orleans novel out of the way, so it can have my full attention.

Which means there is no better time to write than now, today and every day for as long as I can because my creativity has no intention of stopping because There Is No Finish Line.

My plan— Be Strong and Continue.