I don’t blog. It’s not really my thing. But I know some people want reassurance that I’m still breathing, from time to time, so here I am.
I’m still breathing, by the way.
I just completed my third manuscript for the new trilogy, and it’s currently making it’s way through the literary gambit. Regardless of its fate, it feels good to finally get it out my brain.
I had been asked, last summer, why I haven’t written a memoir of my statistically improbable life experiences, and I had to give the unavoidably mysterious answer of “I can’t”. I hate having to give that answer, but it’s far better than the alternative. My path has crossed many different types of people, and some of them weren’t happy with the results. There’s a reason I disappeared off the internet for a while, and a reason I don’t Google my own name. My old URL is a malware site now, and my name is a search term for Chinese knock-offs of my work. It’s not coincidence.
When a person lives through this sort of trauma, it helps to talk about it, and although I can’t write a memoir, I can write a story. A damn good one, at that. It will see the light of day, it might even be made into a movie, and hopefully, it will make people think and feel and learn.
Coz that’s the point, yo.