So, I have published a novel. What's that like? And why, aside from random notes on Substack and some shameless self-promotion in March, has this newsletter been silent since the first of the year?
What I’ve been up to:
I finished and submitted a short story set in the Spider’s Wyrd universe, attended Capricon in Chicago, visited family, and reconnected with an old friend at a delightful tabletop games weekend. When I returned home, I got back to quilting, music, and working on a sequel for Spider’s Wyrd. My husband and I filed our income taxes and collected our refund. An immediate family member needed surgery. He is fine now, thanks.
Spider's Wyrd was released on March 11, right on schedule. The book and I met the public in earnest at my publisher’s booth at the Tucson Festival of Books on the following weekend. I am still working on how to pitch Spider's Wyrd briefly at bookstore author visits. My calendar is filling up.
Aside from the basic existential dread surrounding current national and international events, all this sounds like normal life plus publishing a novel one has dreamed about for years. There is work to be done. Friendships need nurturing. The house needs cleaning, the yard needs attention, and my next book isn't going to write itself.
This happened.
On a routine doctor visit earlier this year, I got a prescription for a new-to-me blood pressure medication. No big deal: I live in a rich country and am of an age where such things are normal and appreciated. I did ask about side effects; the doctor said I might feel tired.
He was right. I felt tired as hell. I soldiered on and went to Capricon and the other festivals, doing all the things in spite of abruptly feeling ten years older. If anything, I viewed the fatigue as evidence that we are all mortal, and so I crammed in as much life as possible while there was cramming to be had. Of course I was exhausted.
That lasted right up until I didn't feel like doing anything anymore. My wakeup call was when I burst into tears after a series of emails that, while awkward, were not "burst into tears" material. Hmm.
What major changes, other than the aforementioned appalling current events and the bucket-list accomplishment of publishing a novel, had occurred recently? I dug out the informational insert for my now months-old prescription. In the list of possible side effects, depression was in the first paragraph.
While lots of people take that medication safely, with great benefit, I suspected I had drawn the genetic short straw for side effects. I made some phone calls. My primary care doctor helped me switch to a different medication. In just a few days I felt better, and over a few weeks' time a therapist confirmed that I am back to being my usual ornery self.
This kind of thing can happen to anyone. Please be alert in case it happens to you.
Back at it.
I am lucky that issue got caught before things went really south. I was also lucky that there are other blood pressure medications that work for me.
My heart goes out to people who have depression, especially depression that is not so easily remedied. And everything I learned from that experience is totally getting filed away for use in some future story.
What's next? I'm back to writing more-or-less regularly. The house is, very gradually, getting cleaner. I am getting out into the world again, for more than just the things I have to do. It is SO GOOD to be back.
Something New:
Many of the authors whose newsletters I read include some kind of list of non-writing things they are up to. Here’s mine.
Reading:
I just finished reading Careless People, by Sarah Wynn-Williams, and am currently halfway through A Sorcerer Comes to Call, by T. Kingfisher.Making:
Starting to plan a new quilt for my daughter, who wants me to riff off of Ellsworth Kelly’s Spectrum Colors Arranged by Chance series.Doing:
I just set up more bookshelves as part of a project to go through "my" e-books and acquire paper copies of books I want to keep.