Wow.
I knew it had been some time my dear readers, but I did not fathom it was well over two years! September 7, 2022, to be exact, which is eons and a lifetime ago in the scheme of a writer’s life. So much has happened since, with an exciting announcement at the end.
A few draft posts were in the works. Honestly and truthfully, there were. Unfortunately, they never saw the light of day.
As you might imagine, I come here today with an explanation. A heartfelt, genuine, and rather innocuous set of reasons that when compared to the world order, makes a whole hell of a lot of sense.
To me, at least.
Where to start? I could begin at the very first place that put up a roadblock and weave an intricate tale that paints the picture. From there go all chronological order and lay it down for consumption. That angle works, but really doesn’t portray the entire canvas in the right way.
So, I’ll just dive in and swim around and let the waves flow.
Life as seems to be the case, happened. Death too, which inevitably casts a dark shadow of grief and pain. Why the two drive our existence and emotions to such extreme degrees, from happiness to despair and everything between, each is an age old dilemma. They propels us along different paths, divergent, until coming together to move forward once again.
Singular road ahead, until there is a fork. Once again.
So this life thing. Well, it can be a doozy. Family, relationships, the day to day grind. Even world events can cast a shadow on things, in a good or bad way. We do what we need to do to survive and move onto the next day. It’s a cycle and the wheels spin round and round.
Repeat, over and over.
Once you write a book, there is an overwhelming pressure to produce another. You haven’t even gotten over the joy of having the first out in the wild selling copies and drawing attention before the rope tightens and your eyes begin to bulge. A wicked analogy to use, but you get the idea. Sitting down to put pen to the proverbial paper hangs overhead, and under the best circumstances void of distractions. But, that is not how it works in the real world.
Writers, the working class ones, sit down to produce in the finite minutes we have available. We find time when we can, around getting the kids ready for school and off to their education. During the window before pickup and afterschool activities. After bedtime when the energy can be found, which is a rare occurrence. Weekends maybe, around family time and sports. It really happens in chunks and bursts when you can find the space, between your ears, to come up with the necessary words to make a story come alive.
When chaos ensues and those infrequent instances become rarities, well, the craft pauses.
That is part of the backstory. Every day brought new challenges to actually sitting down to write anything beyond the next book. Determined focus we will call it. I had to work the first book angle while also plotting the next chapter in the story.
My story.
What was that writer guy?
Yes, you heard that. Pandemic-19 has a follow-up, but more on that later.
So, there I am, trying to write another book while continuing to promote the first. Living each day trying to stay ahead of the game. Winning sometimes, losing others. Things become a blur and as the days turn to weeks and in this case, years, the addition of events does not equal being able to say, yeah!
It ends up being, WTF!
I did mention death though. That also played a pivotal roll. For some, it may be less consideration or understanding depending on your own beliefs. For me, it was an important part of the journey. As a pet person, not owner since we don’t really “own” a pet, they are our fur children. This is especially true when you adopt them as younglings or rescue from specific circumstances. In my life, the last fur kid pre-marriage passed away. Our beloved Chloe, a loving black kitty adopted by my wife, succumbed to illness and went to visit her older siblings, dogs and cats, who left Earth before her. Her loss, after having lost three others just the year before along with dear family, created an immense void.
Creativity just didn’t seem to thrive.
Some may feel that a pet carries less emotional weight than people. No real eye-rolling judgement there at all. Others may know the same pain and understand. When you have over a decade of love and affection from a cat, who was the baby in the house when she came to it and seamlessly found her place without issue, only to become the oldest and last of the original bunch, it hits hard.
Sorrow flows.
While we had previously adopted three kittens to help Chloe feel less lonely when she lost her older siblings within a short span the previous year, there was still sadness and a quiet when she was gone. You cannot replace a cat or a dog. They are their own personalities. You can bring newbies into the fold, not as replacements, but as new family members with fur. While we were not a house vacant of pets, we were absent a special girl who had brought joy and love to all of us.
So that was a piece of the puzzle too.
As a fiction writer who draws upon real life experience and events, fuel for the imagination, the last years also threw a wrench into my plans. The world was a bizarre place, still is, but things happening around the globe and domestically really put the kibosh on the social part of my writing escapades. Blog posts and social media quips simply stopped being, for lack of any other descriptive word, important.
I didn’t want to feed the beasts, I guess.
Disillusionment, really, as I look back on it. Twitter becoming X and Facebook a laughable Meta really showed the absurdity of it all. No matter the fence you straddle or side you choose, I had just had it. I didn’t feel the excitement to post. Anything at all. Too much vitriol going around, asinine words fueling hate or ignorance, influencers with no grasp of logic or factual basis throwing words around like poo poo. A cesspool of socialness taking focus over what in my mind mattered the most.
Community and sharing in a desire to add just a bit of good to our lives.
Isn’t that what the social posting is supposed to be all about? Reflection, sharing life, making people laugh and giggle for just a minute. Giving back in a positive way and not going the provocative route to spew things that just reek. You don’t have to provide the soap box to the crazy man to stand on the corner after all. Seeing the words from all sides that just didn’t jive in my heart or mind, I had to take a break. Not that I had to be the same as them. I just didn’t want to be an accessory to the platforms.
You abandoned us, writer man.
I did. And for that, I am sorry. Your support and following really does mean something to me. I just was not in the head space nor physical body to deal with so many competing knives thrown my way. I had my life to try and live and lead. Attempt to navigate a world seemingly on the brink of chaos where one shakes their head on why humanity thousands of years later, cannot just get f’ing along. As someone with a degree in history who has studied and read academic works for decades, analyzed periods and compared, I still find it so frustrating that people keep repeating the same crappy mistakes over and over. Or, believe that they have some grander importance than someone else.
I hate selfishness.
That aside as it could go really deep so I’ll leave it alone, writers find inspiration from their world. When you don’t have it, the craft withers and you wrap in your own shell. I internalized everything and focused just on my next book and let the rest of what had made me happy, like these blog posts sharing bits of me, fall to the wayside. I was a man on a mission. Writing when I could, and then dealing with the pitfalls in the road of life that created craters to have to crawl through or work past.
The unexpected can have serious repercussions.
I had personal trials to overcome. Without diving into details, our family had to work problems thrown our way to find viable solutions for health and piece of mind. Education for the children had to bob and weave what comes so they could enjoy their experiences. And then, that damn book.
Well to be honest, it was really four books.
Say what?
Creativity is its own beast. You go with the flow wherever it may lead. Sometimes, finding a different subject matter to write about helps the old brain stay fresh. This is especially true when you have a story continuation, like the one for Pandemic-19, and as a writer, you need a break. So, to keep the juices flowing, you start another book. And, another. Then, one more.
Crap. Why not just a tiny other book too?
When I finished Pandemic-19, I needed a break. A rest so to speak. I had the follow-up already planned out and had worked on it and was along with the writing. I also had an idea for a children’s book that needed to find some love. Then, came a completely different fiction story that fell into my lap. I had to get the details down, so I spent some time there too. Then, while all this was going on, I began to write what would be another part of the Pandemic-19 storyline.
Gosh, you really are insane writer dude.
Yup. No argument there. I found a writing groove when my tiny fraction of time could be harnessed, which in some cases was just fifteen minutes.
A week.
I persevered though. I took what I could take as far as time and did what I do best. I wrote. I developed the children’s book and got far along there. I worked on a completely different fiction thriller and got it about a third of the way done. I worked on Pandemic-19’s follow-up. And, then the final story in my saga.
Huh?
Okay. Here it goes. Sins of the Father is the next book to follow Pandemic-19. It is late in coming as it was completed the end of 2023. It sat for some time in the editing process. Then, underwent a bunch of drafts. While that happened, Retribution came to be. So as you can see, I was a very busy boy.
So, you have a book coming out?
That my dear readers, is the long awaited news. Head down writing away, I finished the next chapter of the Pandemic-19 storyline. It is called, Sins of the Father. It follows the saga of the Carmichael family and their desperate attempt to flee the madmen stalking the family and trying to capture the children, Emma and David. All to fuel the crazy and demented orders of leaders who want the children and what they possess. Without divulging too much, the book is done. The cover art complete. One final pass through editors for continuity and eyes on the prize and it will be out.
Yeah!
Yes, it is time for the next book to find its audience. Time for me to crack the shell I was hiding in and rejoin the world. So to speak. I don’t have “people” like all the more famous authors out there. No assistants to drive the kiddos or do the mundane stuff that has to occur. No, just little old me shuffling around. Don’t have a team to do all the social stuff that needs to happen. Everything that you read, is totally me.
Honest.
Right now, in this moment, I am putting my hat back in the game. I am in a place that feels great, exciting even, as the next book of mine gets ready to come out. While I still face many of the same issues that kept me silent all this time, I am more in tune with what makes me tick.
That my dear friends, is connecting with all of you.
As Sins of the Father news gets ready to share, I will be posting about it here. Give more information and details about the newest creation and endeavor that will be hitting the shelves. I am really excited for the story and for all of you to read it. It was a labor of love for sure, but one worth the agony, the bumps and bruises, and the joy I profoundly know it will bring. If even for just the time you, my dear readers, get to become lost in the thrill of the words.
My gift to you.
Jason McDonald 