Oh, life…It sure does have its cycles—its ups and downs. One of the cool aspects of doing a blog is that I have, for posterity and reflection, a record of my thoughts and feelings. Many years ago, I decided that I was going to be as honest, as raw, as possible when I started writing this digital journal. At first, no one read my blogs. Then friends and family gave it the occasional peek, and soon strangers drawn in by my work and associated thoughts were visiting my site and partaking in my strangeness. It’s grown rather beyond my control now: this weekly dumping of what my brain finds troubling, interesting, or worth celebrating. I never kept a diary—in fact, I hated the idea—though writing my Sunday Blogs is something that I’ve come to enjoy. Now while Christmas is wrapped in enough sentiment as is, I’m afraid that it’s my turn to add more saccharine appreciation, more holiday cheer.
We’ve been up and down together: my blog, my readers and I. Recently, I had the privilege and time to ask myself some serious life questions. We don’t need to recap too much of that. Who am I? What am I doing? Am I wisely using the time—and gift of life—I’ve been given? These are the same questions people have been asking the universe since its first twinkling star beckoned to them with its mystery. I’m finished making grand inquiries to the Divine, for now. In the absence of doubt, depression, and all that nasty shit, the void left by the passage of negativity has filled with hope and optimism. There are times where I wish my personality wasn’t such a pendulum. Alas, that’s how I’m made, those are my warts, and I’m glad that I’ve been able to share them with you these past years. (Phrasing error, makes it sound like I’ve given a communicable disease to all of you. Still, in the spirit of honest divulgence, I’ll leave it!)
Which is why this award, recently given to me by the ruthless and humbling editors at Kirkus, has so much meaning:
At Kirkus, they read, praise, and lambaste, a lot of books: thousands each year. Feast of Fates was among their favorites for the calendar year, and it wasn’t lambasted—they liked the second one, too! However, any celebratory cheer I have over the announcement isn’t mine alone. It’s a celebration owed to the coaching from my mother, when she was ill, telling me: “This is what you should be doing.” She’s been dead for years, and her echo hasn’t faded, but grown louder. Preceding that pivotal moment, was a lifetime filled with her encouragement. I was horrible at keeping jobs, attending school, or bending to any sort of authority. I had problems with drugs, alcohol and depression. And still Cynthia had faith that I would rise from the ashes of my failures. She saw that her broken, messy child had something of worth while most of the world didn’t. She believed in me, like you, my readers, believe in me. Reading is a leap of faith, a connection: you’re crossing imaginations with an author, a stranger. It’s an intimate arrangement: an exchange of trust, ideas and dreams. I feel that you folks—my readers, and fans—really understand me, and see that same worth in me that Cynthia did.
So this award isn’t mine alone, but it belongs to everyone, everywhere who believed in what I was doing, who believed in the world inside my head. I swear it’s a real place, Geadhain; I see it as vividly as Earth at times. And I hope that through my words, I take you there, and together we wander the haunted woods and emerald dales. We sip tea with the Sisters Three. We laugh, cry, and sing tunes with Beauregard. We have a million adventures, we live a million lives.
Have a very merry Holiday, on Earth or Geadhain.
All my love,
P.S. The series will be on sale over the holidays. Leo’s working on a sizzling banner for the promo—it’s a bit saucy!