Just buried under life.
So at the end of November we moved house–like, the weekend after Thanksgiving. Then we had to unpack. Then I had to pack my office up at work because they were re-carpeting over winter break. Then Christmas. Then more unpacking at home. Then back to work, to also unpack. Even yet still more unpacking at home. Also painting. Ordering furniture. Decorating. There is still stuff in the garage. None of that stuff is a car.
But! We’re moved. The doggo has a yard. Everyone has a bedroom. I have an office. The china cabinet that has always been too big for wherever we’ve been living now has a wall that makes it look normal-sized.
I’m writing away, finishing touches on the novel before I start sending it around, new short stories because I’ve really depleted my back catalog, figuring out a traveler’s notebook for writing and journaling. 2018 was not my best writing year, I gotta tell ya. The end of 2018 was one of the worst writing periods of my life because nothing seemed to want to happen at all; it was like trying to mortar bricks with Jello. Thankfully, I appear to finally have grown my brain back–or maybe I feel settled enough–so that words are happening again.
So, yes, I am around. If you’re still reading this blog, thank you for your patience. I make no promises about more regular updates, but you can find me on Twitter and Tumblr as Seldnei between posts.