Writing the Good Fight

I posted my last blog entry seven weeks ago today. Two days later, my son was born. A beautiful 8-pound baby boy who looks like his father and loves to be held by his mommy. He is my treasure. Big brother is so proud -- already trying to show him the ropes.

The birth was difficult, though, and ended with an unplanned Cesarean. This meant a challenging recovery for everyone in our family, especially since I couldn't lift our older son for 4 weeks after my surgery. We had lots of help from our amazing friends and family, though, and somehow made it to the four-week mark.

Then, just after midnight the next day, my Dad died. He had known about his lung cancer since May and was undergoing treatment, but we thought he was responding well and at least had a few more months left. So his death was both expected and shocking at the same time. I don't think I'm ready to write much about Dad just yet, but I know I'll get there. He has always been a voice in my head whenever I had a decision to make, and I'm pretty sure I will always be trying to make him proud.

In the meantime, I am trying to unravel the mysteries of the probate system, work through the normal sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn, and figure out what normal is like from here. Several people have asked me when my next book is coming out, and I'm flattered by what is a really good question.

A blank page is a challenge at any time. But when you're feeling beat down and overwhelmed by real life, it is especially hard to face. Don't even get me started on trying to conjure up readable fiction while bouncing a baby seat with your foot, trying to get a little one to sleep.

That doesn't mean I shouldn't take on the blank page. After several weeks away from writing, and away from my work-in-progress, I am realizing that writing is part of what makes me feel human and normal. When I can't get to my computer, I write in my head. I do this constantly, sometimes without even realizing I'm doing it. In the shower. In the car. In the wee hours of the morning while I'm nursing the baby.

It's not always fiction, and it's rarely the latest chapter of my current project. More often I write snippets of prose, stream of consciousness narration, random connections between real life and the million stories I create in my head. Some of these snippets make it out of the shower or the car and onto a page. They might get woven in with a current story, or simply jotted down for future reference. Others just float away with the steam. I've done this since I was a little girl, and it's part of who I am, even when it's hard to distill anything out onto the page (or the screen).

So, the answer to the question of when the next book is coming is, I don't know. Given everything that has happened, and the fact that it's taken me three hours just to write this blog while caring for a fussy baby, the pace won't be a speedy one. But it's coming. I've never been one to stay down for long, and writing is one of the ways I find the strength to get off the floor.