The week started off with a lull: I was massively burnt out after writing the scene(s)-of-all-scenes. I took Monday off, picked things up again on Tuesday, but when Wednesday came around my mind and body just said, “no”. I slept in till almost six, which is an irregularity for me. I woke up more tired than I could remember having been in ages. After the gym and once I’d settled to type, I fell asleep in my chair for a good twenty minutes. At that point I realized, hey, maybe it’s time to take a break.
As an independent creator, I don’t have a standard schedule. I work six to seven days a week and that feels normal to me. Also, when you’re passionately swept up in something, you don’t realize how exhausted you’ve made yourself until you reach that one clear moment of shutting down. Your body literally revolts on you and assumes control of your functions. Happened about a month after my mother’s funeral. Happened after my assault. Happened after plenty of good experiences, too: vacations, celebrations. And when your body tells you it’s time to stop whatever you’re doing and recuperate, that’s exactly what you should do. So here we are on the fifth day of my body having staged its coup, and I’m feeling much, much better.
I think part of my need to step away this week was because I’ve been so anxious over ending the stories of these characters. I feel I was rushing matters a bit too much with my, “must be done before Christmas”, deadline. Stories can’t be rushed, haste can make the writer miss fleeting moments and conversations. These characters…I love them all, even–and especially–some of the nasty ones. Never in my life have I seen something of this scale through to completion. It’s terrifying to say goodbye to something so precious. While there will be stories, spinoffs and further chapters (Sister Abagail mystery shorts, anyone?!), the heart of the tale–Morigan, the Wolf and their pack–are the echoes that will resonate through Geadhain’s history, and they’re the hardest and most important farewell to make. But we have to say goodbye to preserve the sacredness of their memory–of any memory, really.
I’ll never forget how writing the bloodmates changed me, or my life. Writing their story has connected me to thousands of people–real people–whom I’d never otherwise have known. There’s magic to that, a touch of the unity and community that the bloodmates and their pack share. Knowing how special the occasion was, I’ve commissioned a secret project, the results of which fortuitously came to completion this week when I was feeling so in need of a boost. Body art is a statement, and I believe each tattoo should tell a story. Here’s how I will remember Morigan and the Wolf and how they connected me to the world. Even when these icons start to prune, shift and grow liverspots over their beauty, I’ll forever have their story upon my skin.
I can’t think of a better goodbye.
All my love,
P.S. I will be sure to post the actual on-the-flesh version when it’s done 🙂