The Countdown Begins

It’s been a rough start to 2023 for me, with my beloved grandmother going into the hospital a little more than two weeks after the start of the new year. Her loss left a huge void in my life and I’ve taken a much needed break to grieve. But with only seven days until the final book in my YA trilogy is published, I thought it was time to get back to the business of being a writer even if I’m not quite ready to jump back into life after my loss.

The publication of FALLING STAR is bittersweet for me. Writing the final book in my series is a great source of pride and achievement and I honestly think it is the best book I’ve written yet. However, I’m finding it difficult to let go of these wonderfully complicated characters that I’ve spent the past decade creating. It’s like I’m leaving a fantastic party – I’ve had so much fun, I just want the night to keep going. But nothing lasts forever and sometimes you just have to move on or you risk becoming that clueless guest who take a hint and leave, lingering in the kitchen for hours nattering on about how probiotics changed your life or vomiting in their closet because you had one cocktail too many.

Goodbyes are hard, but inevitable.

While it’s tempting to stay in this comfortable space, spinning in circles with these characters who almost feel like family, it’s a guaranteed ticket to creative stagnation. Recently a number of new characters have been haunting me, clamoring to be born and overshadowing the temptation to expand the trilogy. I only hope that these new characters prove as fascinating and complex as I’ve found those the world of Dani Truehart.

The other reason this publication weighs heavy on my heart is that my grandmother was asking to read this final book for months. She kept telling me she couldn’t wait to find out what happened after the cliffhanger in BURNING BRIGHT. She joked that she was mad at me for leaving her in such suspense and couldn’t wait for it to come out. I offered her hints of what I had planned but she didn’t want to spoil the surprise and refused to read an advanced copy I printed out for her. She insisted on waiting to hold the bound book in her hands. It will always weigh on me that she never had the opportunity to read it before she passed. We will never have the chance to talk about how the story ended and I won’t be able to hear what she thinks. It meant the world to me that despite being in her nineties, my grandmother read both my books and loved them. She wasn’t one to mince words or sugar-coat things to make me feel better. If she didn’t like something she had no problem letting me know. Her interest in my books meant the world to me. I wish she could have read this final installment.

But wishes don’t write books. My grandmother was a depression-era baby and she believed in hard work and not wallowing in your troubles. So I’m rolling up my sleeves, counting my blessings and getting back to work just like she’d want me to do.

Happy Tuesday📚💕