A Change of Season

After seven of the roughest months of my life, I’ve finally been able to get back to work. I won’t spoil the page with longwinded details of the medical nightmare that was my 2020, but some background would probably be helpful. Did anyone see that meme going around of the guy preparing for 2020 in full plate armour – and then he gets nailed by an arrow through the visor? My experience was similar, though it felt more like sheltering in a bunker only to get hit by a meteor. Constant pain and sleep deprivation did a pretty thorough job of wiping me out. I’ve never experienced anything like it, and hope I never will again.

During my early studio days I worked with a label manager whose wife had just given birth. They had produced that sort of baby that sees daylight as a sedative and then insists on doing vocal training through the night. This manager would charge into the studio blinking bloodshot and bleary eyes in a tremendous effort to look crisp and focussed. He’d sit down, ask to hear the progress on the tracks, adopt a look of fierce concentration, and be fast asleep before the second chorus. For weeks he would drop in to check on progress catch up on sleep. It was never intentional, mind you – he just couldn’t fend it off. That was one of the first memorable glimpses I had into the results of extended sleep deprivation, and since then I’ve had nothing but respect for new parents – especially those of difficult babies.

Unlike the label manager, my attempts to catch up during the day weren’t successful. For me, the solution wasn’t nuclear-powered painkillers or sledgehammer soporifics, it was a more accurate diagnosis that was made possible when symptoms became clearer. To my great relief, there was no need for further surgery. Over about two months of revised treatment and therapy, the pain receded enough that sleep could start to wash back and take its place. I’ve finally begun to recover, and the memory of trying to claw scraps of sleep from nights of teeth-gritting pain are fading. Recovery hasn’t been quite as fast or consistent as I’d like, but it is happening. The medical advice, which I need to respect, is not to overdo things at first, but I’ve reached a point where I know I’m ready to get back to writing.

Scenes from the books are starting to well up in my unconscious thoughts. Revision notes are multiplying as ideas erupt in showers of sparks, and solutions are starting to click into place. (As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, a large part of revision is creative problem-solving). This upwelling of creative inspiration is the best of signs, and I’m looking forward to the next stage of revisions.

I fully agree with J.Shamburger’s comment on the Twins post about tapping into the experience of hardship and using that to invest into characters. While I always avoid using my personal narrative in books, life experience does and, I believe, should have an influence on a writer’s voice. One of my favourite quotes is from Robert Frost: “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.” I see it applying not just to tears of pain or sadness but also tears of mirth and joy, as well as to any non-teary resonance of heart strings.

In the few brief windows of lucidity I had over the past months, the ideas I jotted down struck deeper notes than anything I’d written before. So yes, the experience will not have been for nought. Like olives being squeezed for their oil, I think rough times can bring out textures of expression that would otherwise remain locked away. Already I’ve been able to work some of these deeper notes into a few dialogues which needed attention, and the measure of improvement has been almost startling.

In spite of the gains, and though the situation was beyond my control, I wish the delay hadn’t impacted you as readers. Though I’ll never rush and ruin a book to compensate for a delay, rest assured that I still have more reason than anyone to get the next instalments out as soon as possible. The patience, reassurance and encouragement shown in the blog comments, messages and mails have, as always, been a real support for me in a difficult time. You guys have been fantastically loyal to the emerging series and I’ll be doing all I can to ensure you approve of the next releases. 

To address questions like Jarrett’s (also in the Twins blog comments) about the timeline of the next book – “will it definitely be released within 3 years? 4?”, perhaps I can say this: Firstly, my career and livelihood depend on releasing it, so I can’t work on it indefinitely. Secondly, if the next book isn’t out within half that time, I’ll be upset. (Please don’t now take the smaller number, divide by two, add the result to the date of the post, and mark it in the calendar. I am officially not committing to a date!) With this kind of writing, I’m wary of deadlines, at least until the story is complete. As Nathan commented, “A delayed [book] is eventually good, but a rushed [book] is forever bad.” The delays have been considerable and I make no pretence at being satisfied with the pace of progress over the last 18 months, but with health finally recovering, I am optimistic about the future.

I’ll post a more comprehensive update later in the year after I’ve been able to settle into a more stable routine and after I’ve clocked enough mileage in revisions that there’s something worth writing about. Until then, may the faint tapping of this author’s keyboard sound like the pattering of spring rain, hinting that even in meteor impact craters, things can start to grow again. May this be true of all of us. After the year we’ve all been through, I’m pretty sure we need it.