You know what’s weird? Everything, right now. What’s somehow even weirder? That I still have a book coming out in three months, which is both the most surreal and most mundane thing, at a time when everything else is bonkers.
But there it is! I have a book coming out in three months, as you can see on this very spiffy countdown clock.
Not just any book, either. This one… is very special to me.
My first book, Mornnovin, came into being after many years and many drafts. The first time I started writing it, I was in elementary school. I always intended for it to be just the beginning of a series, but it took me a long time to resolve – out of all the possibilities – just what would come next. That makes sense, because I was young. I hadn’t yet figured out what I wanted or needed to say. At that point, I was just transcribing my favorite fantasy novels into my own universe.
That’s not to say I wasn’t racking up life experience. I was, in fact, racking up too much life experience. By the time my teen years rolled around, I was living in a soap opera at least partially of my own making. It was stupid. I was stupid. Then poof! hey presto! I was pregnant in high school, then marrying my rapist to raise our child together.
Everything I’d planned for my future vanished in the blink of an eye. The stories I had in me all turned dark. That year, I wrote a sequel to Mornnovin in which I was most definitely punishing myself for “ruining my life.” It was bleak, but it was what I needed to write at that time. I’m glad I never published it.
Time passed. Things changed, or didn’t. I grew up in some ways, clung stubbornly to immaturity in others. I stuck out my time in that terrible marriage, and got the hell out the minute my son and I had an escape route. It took eighteen years.
That was eighteen years with someone who, at best, thought of my writing as a waste of my time. Something annoying that pulled my focus away from him and housework, and gave me unrealistic ideas, and wasn’t even earning any money.
Free at last, and having just finished writing what would be the final version of Mornnovin, I set out into my new life with the goal of finally being able to give my writing career the earnest attention it deserved, now that I no longer had a judging naysayer hovering over me. I wrapped up final edits on Mornnovin in late 2015, took a short breather to work on my query materials, then started writing a new Trajelon in January of 2016.
I finished it only six months later.
My experiences over the previous years of living with my abuser – of surviving gaslighting, sexual and emotional abuse, crazymaking, constant manufactured drama and unnecessary financial hardship, my physical and mental health needs being minimized, watching my son suffer daily emotional trauma at the hands of his father, my identity being suppressed and warped to survive the toxic environment, and all of the accompanying depression and anxiety – gave me a different perspective than I’d had the first time I wrote Trajelon. Beyond simply feeling sorry for myself as I had all those years ago, I now had something to say about going through all of that and coming out the other side.
It was quick work to write, but not easy work.
All of this is a story that I’ve actually told before, but I wanted to add something to it today. If it sounds to you like Trajelon is probably going to be a huge downer to read, well. Maybe. Maybe it will be. Writing it was certainly difficult at times, when I would have to walk away and practice some gentle self-care before returning to the keyboard and putting myself back into the necessary headspace. I am lucky that I finally had the safety and space to do that. I recommend taking that approach while reading it too. But I do think, without any trace of ego, that it is an important story to have brought into the world. This is not torture porn; this is a story of survival. Of triumph against darkness, pain, and loss, and against those who would weaponize your own vulnerability and empathy to hurt you.
How many fantasy novels have you read that are about defeating your abuser and choosing to stand fast against your depression to fight for the hope that tomorrow will be better?
(Seriously, if there are others, point me to them. I’d like to read them too.)
It might sound odd to say that I’m excited about debuting a book of this character, but I am. It genuinely fills me with joy to know that in three months, this story will be born into the world for all to see. I kept my pain in for such a long time – a lonely, heavy burden. By setting it free, I deprive it of its power. I name it and sever its hold on me. I show the way to others carrying the same kind of pain. I give them the tools to take back their strength. That makes me incandescently happy.
I was excited to publish Mornnovin because that was me finally realizing my life-long dream of publishing a novel, any novel. Being a teller of fantasy tales, which is all I ever wanted to be when I grew up.
I’m excited to publish Trajelon because I truly feel that this story adds something necessary to the universal library. Writing it was arduous, often harrowing work, and every piece of it has been crafted with care; I’m proud of what I created. I can’t wait to share it with you.
Last night, I sat at the dining table (because there are too many mosquitoes outside) waiting for Hento to come in from a potty break. He was taking far too long, so I popped out to see what the holdup was and encourage him to get a move on.
I absolutely did not expect to see what I saw.
Standing at the fence that separates our yard from that of the abandoned house next door was an entire freaking great big deer, very calmly chewing some grass while watching Hento with evident curiosity. For his part, Hento was standing at the fence, looking up at the deer, wagging his tail and whining and vibrating with excitement.
The deer looked at me when I stepped out onto the porch, but it didn’t move. Perhaps it thought it was concealed by the darkness.
I grabbed a tantalizing bag of treats and called out to Hento to come inside, knowing it would be a futile effort. He ignored me. He couldn’t even hear me, because he had been transported into another plane of reality where this giant forest puppy was about to become his new best friend (or next meal, perhaps.) I went down into the yard proper to physically fetch him. The deer still had not moved.
Hento was at least aware of my presence, apparently, because at my approach he began to feverishly run up and down the length of the fence looking for a point of entry to the next yard, where he could achieve his heart’s desire. The deer just stood there munching grass, watching all of this transpire.
Eventually I was able to catch Hento by the collar as he darted past me, and I marched him under protest back into the house where he continued to run around not knowing what to do with himself.
Some time ago, I mentioned that my dog Hento saved my life and I wanted to tell you all about it. I actually wrote out the story in late April, but I didn’t post it at that time because I wanted to give it a proof-and-tweak first. Unfortunately, almost immediately after I wrote it, my recovery took a nosedive into the toilet and the resulting brain fog left me incapable of reading, much less proofing, anything of that length.
Now it’s so much later that parts of what I wrote are no longer completely accurate, but I like the idea of presenting the post as-is, like a time capsule; this is where I was on April 28th, 2020.
So, uh, apparently I had cancer?
I figure there’s no delicate way to come at that.
For a very long time now, I’ve had chronic pain and nebulous health issues that it just wasn’t really worth it to me to get into with a doctor. (Tried before, was ignored/gaslit/told to simply lose weight, no answers, moving target, comes and goes, periods of no/poor health insurance, I can live with it, so on and etc.) But the thing about meeting my fantasy dream husband and starting our life together is that suddenly my health and mobility matter in a way they never mattered before – to me and to the fantasy dream husband.
After the wedding in the fall of 2018, when I finally had health coverage again, he begged me to get serious about finding a doctor and getting to the bottom of things. I agreed but put it off a while longer while I concentrated on publishing Mornnovin.
But then, through a series of cascading escalations, my body insisted that I pay attention. By the end of summer 2019, I was deep into physical therapy for Degenerative Disc Disease while trying to figure out why I’m always tired and in pain, why my body doesn’t want to digest anything I eat, and what the heck continues to be wrong with my liver despite my never having been a drinker and eating a fairly “clean” diet for decades. Oh and also what was up with this big squishy thing on my thyroid that had suddenly decided to start getting bigger.
We did all the tests and ran all the scans, but as far as my larger chronic issues go, that’s still a great big shrug. So glad I wasted even more time and money on that for nothing.
The problem is that… we can’t really nail down the problem. Blood panels get mildly weird but non-explanatory results, while imaging continues to show nothing wrong. Yeah, my thyroid was getting bigger and had some obvious nodes, but function was okay-ish, by the numbers? And the molecular tests were inconclusive?
As 2019 wound down with no answers, still, and other things on my mind (holidays, work, finances, mental health and some interpersonal stuff, and the upcoming fundraising push for my second book,) I put the whole thing on the back burner again for a while. I’ve been living with chronic pain and tiredness since 1997; a few more weeks or months off from tests and doctor’s visits didn’t feel like that big a deal.
But that frigging thing in my neck.
All along, in the course of monitoring the thyroid issue, my PCP had been asking if it hurt or made it hard to breathe or swallow. The answer had always been no. But sometime in January, I realized that that had changed and I couldn’t say exactly when. She ordered yet another ultrasound. It was into February before I could get in for it. Then it took a few more weeks for the results to come in and for my doctor to get back to me. I missed the call, repeatedly. (I am literally never awake at 9 a.m., Doctor. I’m sorry. That’s just not my schedule.) I’m bad about returning phone calls because I hate them.
Abruptly, one night in late February, my dog Hento completely changed his bedtime routine.
While he is very pack-oriented and loves to snuggle and hang out no more than a couple feet from us at all times during the day, Hento has always been somewhat solitary after he comes back into the house from his bedtime potty trip into the yard. I’m not sure about his reasons – maybe it’s literally just because he’s got a massive coat and it’s always a few degrees cooler downstairs than it is up in the bedroom – but when he comes in at bedtime, he has a little drink, asks for a cookie, gives me an affectionate headbutt to the thigh, then settles down into his preferred sleeping space between the accent chairs and the coffee table in the living room. His den, I call it. He is truly, deeply, a creature of habit.
So I began to be alarmed by the sixth or seventh night of Hento coming in at bedtime, performing the rest of his goodnight routine, and then sticking on me like glue when I went back upstairs. Refusing to leave my side as I got ready for bed. Not even waiting for me to settle under the covers before jumping up onto the bed and stretching himself out along the length of my left side. Staying there sometimes all night if he could bear it, or relocating to the floor next to my side of the bed if it got too hot for him after a while.
Hento never jumps on the bed, and certainly doesn’t sleep there.
By the time he’d been doing this for three weeks, the thing in my neck was choking me in my sleep and I had to admit that it was time to be serious about returning my doctor’s calls. COVID-19 had already upended things, but she found a slot for me to come in within two days. I absolutely took that as an ominous sign.
The visit was brief and to the point: the most recent ultrasound had shown that the node was even bigger than the last time we’d looked at it, on October 29th. It was sitting right against my trachea. She didn’t like it. She’d consulted with an endocrinologist who also didn’t like it. They both agreed we needed to get that thing out of there. When I shared the news that the thing was now choking me at night, she was alarmed and adamant: get it out now.
Even with everything non-essential shutting down due to the pandemic? I asked her.
She was perfectly steady and insistent on the subject: yes. Immediately.
This news was… Well, I didn’t like it. I’m sure no one likes being told they need surgery, but I’m autistic and I need time to adjust to change. Not gonna lie, I spent a week or so shellshocked and trying to ignore the situation.
But Hento kept sleeping way up in my shit, night after night. Not just at the foot of the bed, where there was room. On. me.
Meanwhile, the bastard thing in my neck kept choking me. I developed a honking, irritated cough from the pressure against my trachea. In the age of COVID-19, try having a loud, persistent, dry cough. There is no one it doesn’t frighten – including yourself. But apparently, neither my scans, my doctor’s urgent referral, my described symptoms, nor the awful awful sound of my cough over the phone was enough to convince the ENT to even look at my case.
“Don’t you realize we’re in the middle of a pandemic?” the surgeon’s people snapped at my husband over the phone. I could hear the angry condescension from across the room. Of course we do. This is at her doctor’s orders. “We’re not scheduling anything, just because you think your wife’s situation is important.” Blink. Her thyroid is slowly choking her to death. “Sir, if your wife is really choking, tell her to go to the ER!”
Jon wants to call them back now that I’m safe and inform the nasty woman on the phone that it was cancer, you assholes. I can’t say I blame him. She was really terrible.
Obviously, I did not want to go to the ER, and much of the time I talked myself out of the urgency of the situation. I told myself it might not come to that, if I could just wait until services and healthcare were functioning more like normal again. Sleeping was dicey, but somehow I could handle the realities of choking in my sleep better than the vague prospect of turning up at the ER for them to do… what exactly? My thyroid and I were playing a game of chicken and I can be very stubborn indeed.
But Hento kept on me 24/7. And I mean this guy was really keeping an eye on me. There was no pretending that he wasn’t worried. After a particularly bad night, on April 7th, I decided to have mercy on his poor tender heart; I went to the ER.
That was exactly as weird and horrible as you might imagine turning up at the ER in the middle of the COVID-19 lockdown to be – with a strange cough to boot. We were intercepted in the parking lot by people swathed in head-to-toe PPE, who screened me and told Jon to wait in the car. I passed through several layers of interrogations where I had to assure those asking that my cough was definitely not COVID-19 before they would let me further into the system. Every time I had to stop to cough because of the irritation to my trachea, I was scrutinized with suspicion. Finally, they ran some tests but ultimately declined to admit me because I did not meet their tightened criteria. (Plus side, we do now have a very nice CT scan of the DDD in my neck.) They did, however, send me off with a fresh list of different ENTs to try calling, if the first one was refusing to see me.
I guess there’s something about the aura of saying you’re calling from an ER referral, because we finally hit paydirt – an ENT willing to speak to me and even schedule a tele-visit. Even luckier, after this guy looked at my scans, he didn’t like them either.
Even so, he wasn’t optimistic that the OR scheduler would put me down any time soon, just because of resource allocation as healthcare in Pennsylvania braced itself for the outbreak. He absolutely did want to get the chokey thing out of my neck as soon as possible, he just couldn’t say when that would be. He advised me to hunker down and manage my symptoms as well as I could and he’d try to get back to me before the end of the month. Two days later, on April 9th, I got a phonecall asking if I could do surgery on the 16th.
Holy crap when things start moving they really move. Honestly, that gave me some emotional whiplash that kept me dazed just about until the day of surgery. (Which was three days after my birthday, by the way. I know just about everyone has had a weird birthday experience in 2020, but that was extra.)
To abruptly end an already long story, the surgeon was planning to remove only the left thyroid lobe, but when he got in there he ended up taking it all. Everything. The whole thyroid and a couple of nearby lymph nodes to be safe. It looked bad, I guess. The pathology report, a few days later, confirmed his instincts.
How do I feel about this?
Well, we’ve already followed the recommended course of treatment for this type of cancer: full thyroidectomy. That’s that, case closed. So honestly, I just feel vindicated after the first surgeon’s office implied I was being an attention-seeking drama queen trying to tie up needed resources during an international health crisis.
Also, enlightened. That’s why Hento was so freaked out. Cancer’ll do that. Dogs have amazing sniffers.
Trying not to get up in my feelings about having an ongoing condition now (no thyroid) that will require medication for the rest of my life.
I’m still dealing with some choking for the moment, unfortunately, as I wait for the swelling to go down. But at least now I know I will stop choking. I don’t have to be scared anymore that the thing in my neck might squeeze the life out of me while I’m sleeping. And Hento can relax.
He slept on me when I came home from the hospital all woozy and sporting a nasty neck wound, and he slept on me the two nights after that. But I am pleased to report that apparently I’m now healthy enough for Hento to be back to spending the night in his little den in the living room between the accent chairs and the coffee table. That’s how you know I’m on the mend.
Really, I only wrote all of this out because I wanted you to understand that Hento saved my life. I absolutely would have kept pretending that the thing in my neck wasn’t that big a deal and would have tried to wait it out until it killed me. Hento was the one who convinced me I was really in trouble. Dogs don’t know how to bullshit you, not about stuff like this.
He was scared, and he told me so, and I’m cancer-free today because I listened to him.
Whew, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I wish I could say it’s because I’ve been out here tearing it up and living my best life, but that would be the utter opposite of the truth.
In reality, in June my post-surgical recovery ran into a ditch big enough for a megalodon to peacefully nap in, and I’ve been spending all of my energy each and every day trying to claw my way back up and out. There was even an ER visit.
I also wish I could say that I’ve tenaciously continued to do the pre-publication work that needs to get done before the book launch in November, but that would be a gross exaggeration of what I’ve actually been able to manage during the last two and a half months. I mean, some things that needed to get done have been done. At the very least, I am now sitting on a hoard of physical copies of Trajelon like a particularly nerdy dragon.
So there’s that.
And, hey, absent being able to manage any of the heavy mental lifting necessary to do promotion, I did finally get around to creating a merch shop for branded Asrellion and Dogwood House swag. There’s still a lot I want to add to it, but I’d been meaning to just make the shop for a long time and kept getting distracted by other things, so it’s nice to have taken the plunge. If any of you happen to have a favorite line of dialogue or something like that you’d wear on a shirt, let me know and I’ll think about incorporating it into the shop.
Also, requiring no additional work from me, the Kirkus reviews for both Mornnovin and Trajelon are in. The reviewer loved Mornnovin. As for Trajelon, I feel the review neglected to mention certain critical aspects. It paints a somewhat breezy picture of the action, and for the sake of covering my own butt I want you to go in completely forewarned that this is an adult-rated novel with dark themes.
But hey, I’ve got a blurb for the release poster!
I’m maybe? starting to get my recovery back on track (knock on wood), and there are wonderful people trying to help me with the pre-launch work I haven’t been able to manage myself. The paperbacks, as I said, are already here. One way or another, to greater or lesser fanfare, this book is coming out on November 24th. (If the world hasn’t utterly imploded by then. I guess I shouldn’t dare 2020 by speaking with too much certainty about the future.)
Thank you for being patient with me and for believing in my stories! Please keep talking them up if you can wherever possible. I need all the help I can get driving interest in the world of Asrellion before the release, since I’m decidedly not up to the big marketing push I’d hoped and planned to do.
And remember: Hento loves you and wants you to stay safe.
Still from What We Do in the Shadows on FX. The hat is cursed.
It’s been… oof. It’s been a lot lately. As my last couple posts probably indicated.
But I’m still here, still trying to figure this shit out, still surviving. My thyroid replacement dose is now at a much more livable level, the brain fog has started to lift a bit, and I’m getting better at preventing major crashes. We’re still not sure what’s going on, but we have a couple of promising leads. Getting to the bottom of this is going to require the help of at least two more specialists, and I really struggle with the phone calls necessary to get that sort of thing rolling.
Meanwhile, ugh, the medical bills that are piling up around here. I’ve gotta say I hope you’re doing better than I am on the Working in Pandemic Times front, Reader, because I earned 92 whole dollars last month.
My brain is now functioning just enough for me to feel like I really need to be getting on with the promotion for this new book I have coming out in a few months, but not enough for me to actually do any of the things. A wonderful friend of mine who has PR experience is trying to point me at the tasks that need to get done, but I suspect it’s probably a lot like trying to get a kitten that’s all jacked up on catnip to study for a college physics exam. Sorry, Nova. ❤
So, yeah, I don’t have a lot to say today. I just wanted to poke my head up out of the muck to state that I’m still alive and kicking. Things were pretty dicey for a while there, so this seems important to say.
I hope you’re all still alive and kicking too, and staying safe.
For those keeping score, I can now add fainting to the list of health bullshit piling up around here as I adjust to life without a thyroid.
I actually have a lifelong history of fainting from some undetermined underlying cause, and then being fine afterward, but it’s been a while and this time my husband says I was turning blue. So that seems bad. And I can almost always track what (admittedly nonsensical) factor led to the fainting, but this time it happened after nearly no provocation.
Ten minutes, tops, kneeling down to pull some weeds. Felt weird, so I stopped. (I honestly am making a very real effort not to push myself and to be mindful of my current limits.) Went up to the porch to sit down. Next thing I know, my husband is in my face urgently instructing me to breathe and I guess it’s been about five minutes. He’d called an ambulance.
For those of you who’ve been wondering if I’m doing all right, following my full thyroidectomy and surprise cancer in April, I’m afraid the answer is no, I’m really not.
It’s funny. You expect these things to be so much more linear than they end up being. Have problem, identify problem, fix problem, problem all better. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaah no.
There is this very nebulous post-surgical phase that I glossed over in one of my previous posts that can easily be summed up with the innocuous words “once we get my med dosages under control.” The ease of naming this phase is in directly inverse proportion to the difficulty of actually getting my med dosages under control. More euphemistically and also more accurately, I’m currently trapped in post-op Hell.
There was an earlier, more blissfully ignorant time in my life – about three months ago – when I imagined that adjusting to having no thyroid gland and relying on a carefully-prescribed dose of ingested thyroid hormone wouldn’t be all that dissimilar to living with an under-performing thyroid that had been slowly trying to kill me for at least twenty-three years.
I was so, so wrong.
For the first, I don’t know, three weeks after the total thyroidectomy, I felt like I was making slow but steady progress toward a new kind of normal that wasn’t all that different from my previous normal (which was nice but also sort of disappointing – I want to feel better now that I’ve addressed a persistent health issue, not the same!) But then, oof, things started getting weird. New symptoms showing up every week, a regular freakshow of bodily dysfunction.
Hair brittle and falling out. Eyebrow dandruff? Can’t touch hot things. Can’t touch cold things. Jitters. Freezing all the time, except at night when I’m drenched in sweat no matter how high we crank the a/c. Nausea. Weird new plant allergies. Intense hunger pain. (To clarify, I had not experienced the sensation of physical hunger since summer 1996. Lost it during the first trimester of pregnancy and never regained it until now — really suddenly and grippingly.) Vertigo. Blurry vision. Trouble focusing my eyes on a single object. Vocal weakness. Mood swings. Shoulder blade pain and crackling. Breathlessness. Weird leg pains. Hand tremors, body jerks, and lack of fine motor control. Brain fog. Tiredness. Tiredness. Tiredness.
Oh and by the way, the scar really itches.
It’s looking pretty good, though.
Probably the worst thing I’ve been dealing with has been the brain fog. There are days when I feel like I’ve never woken up. Days when opening my eyes takes more energy than I can summon. Days I can’t remember because I was so unfocused through the whole thing. I often struggle to read anything longer than a single sentence, because my brain can’t connect two thoughts to each other. When I try to read a paragraph, my eyes wander to another spot on the page. I feel like I can’t generate original thoughts or synthesize information. I’ve had to all but give up on the notion of making any kind of plans. I have no way of predicting when I’ll be functional and when I’ll be only semi-conscious.
Sometimes it’s worse because it’s been more than three hours since I last ate; sometimes it’s worse because I just ate something that I apparently can’t metabolize now. I’m having severe reactive hypoglycemia crashes that render the entire day useless. I was not hypoglycemic before. I have been on a gluten-free/dairy-free diet since 2004; the list of foods that I can’t tolerate anymore is growing at a cancerous rate by the day.
Right now, as I type this, it is the end of a brutal week in which I’ve fought tooth and nail to try to get to the bottom of just what foods are knocking me flat and what I can eat now for the energy I need in order to think straight and not get the shakes. I crashed yesterday but not today. Thursday but not Friday. It’s always a step forward, then another step back. My husband has been the real hero of this story, ever ready to leap into action when he can see my blood sugar taking a sudden massive nosedive.
For the moment, my mind is as clear as it ever gets these days, so I’m taking advantage of the pseudo-clarity to get some thoughts down. Most of the time now, I feel like I’m disappearing.
Apparently white rice in all its forms is now The Devil, which comes as a real blow and a major challenge to a gluten-free lifestyle. Also, apparently, oatmeal and a banana is okay for breakfast, except when it’s not, and a small glass of orange juice is Right Out – except as a pick-me-up when I’m having a major crash. Potatoes seem to be safe for now, but onions live on the edge of Dangerville, and shrimp are okay when I cook them this way but not that way. Fruit smoothies are good, but not for breakfast. Eggs are safe. Sugar is not. Honey is eeeeeeeeeeeh. Green leafy vegetables, walnuts, and grapefruit mess with my meds. It’s a frigging minefield.
And now I’m all bogged down in food talk, but that’s not the point. The point is that my own body is now an uncharted land that I have no idea how to navigate, and hooboy is the terrain inhospitable. My last visit to the doctor was in early May, and my next one won’t be until the end of this month. That’s a great big wasteland of what the hell is going on and what am I doing. I’ve had two med adjustments and one liver ultrasound in the interim. After looking at my latest bloodwork, the doctor called to ask if I was even taking one of the meds prescribed, because I guess my levels were shockingly low. The current state of my health is, in sum, a total shitshow.
So, ha, this notion I was sold that I’d have my thyroid removed, be down for “a couple of weeks,” and then be able to “resume normal activity” was a gigantic fat lie of mythic proportions. I needed to have it done, but some realism from the professionals on this subject would have been nice. When will I actually be able to enjoy something like normal health again?
* huge shrug *
Naturally, this has all really sucked right in the middle of the time I was supposed to be using to craft and implement my marketing strategy for the BOOK you might remember I have coming out later this year. It is, for the record, intensely difficult to perform businessy functions when you’re barely literate from brain fog and can’t process the information you do somehow manage to read. Marketing plan? I barely even know what those words mean right now. A friend of mine very helpfully threw together a pre-launch timeline for me and it looks like they wrote it in a foreign language.
I’m actually, no lie, amazed that I’ve been able to type all of this out. This is the most I’ve been able to process words in months. I fully expect to be back to near-delirium tomorrow.
So for now, here’s me waving to you from the eye of the storm. Here’s hoping I wind up being Dorothy in the end and not the witch smashed flat under a crashed house.
When I have my words again for another brief spell, I want to tell you the story of how my dog saved my life.
The third proof of Trajelon finally arrived, and we have a winner! I’ve approved the files with the printer for distribution, and you can see that the book is now listed for pre-order on Amazon! I’ll be placing the order with IngramSpark for your copies here in a minute.
The first of two Q&As is scheduled for Saturday, June 13th at 1:00 p.m. EDT. I’ve emailed everyone from the Elf Friend tier upward with the link, so if you were expecting the email and you haven’t seen it yet, maybe take a look in your spam folder. Any questions that you’d like to see me answer should be emailed to me by Monday night (the 8th), so get questioning!
As a final note, it would appear that everyone has received their custom elf jewelry or stationery box. I’m very pleased with these creations and I hope you are too! Having to shop for crafting supplies online was weirdly stressful and a lot harder than I expected it to be — how can you know you want to work with something unless you can hold it in your hands, see it in the light from all angles, feel its weight and texture? So in the course of browsing craft supplies in a sort of daze, I stumbled upon the world of resin casting and I was immediately obsessed with the idea that I had to use it on at least ONE reward. To leave you with the image of something pretty, here is the result of that obsession.
After another, smaller Post Office run today, the rest of the Ítaja-level rewards are in the mail — three more pieces of jewelry and two stationery boxes. Their intended recipients have been messaged with the tracking numbers.
I… had no idea what I was getting myself into with those boxes. They were way more labor-intensive than I expected. Oof.
So now in terms of rewards yet to be delivered we’re down to those two fancy maps, which I am going to begin designing this weekend; a live Q&A session; the bookmarks, which will go out with Trajelon; and the actual copies of Trajelon, out 11/24/20. We’re getting there!
As far as the Q&A goes, I talked before about the possibility of doing two instead of just one after the book release, because screw it I make the rules and I like you people. Now that everyone has had (or will soon have) access to their own copy of Mornnovin, and many of you have read the short stories, that will give us plenty to talk about if we were to do a Q&A, say, next month. General writing questions are also welcome, of course, although my answer to those is likely to be something along the lines of “lol I don’t know how to write are you kidding?”
So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll look at the calendar and figure out the best time to take a couple hours of an afternoon to talk to all of you about the world of Asrellion and stuff. Then I will email all of you who backed at the Elf Friend level and above with more information about the when and where, and an invitation to send me your questions in advance. So start thinking! Cool? Cool.
And because I know this reward has already reached its destination and been ogled by its recipient, let me leave you with this last glimpse of something elfy and pretty that I made.
Just a quick update today: I wanted to let you know that I’ve gotten a huge first round of physical rewards into the post. That’s all of the signed paperback copies of Mornnovin for everyone who is due one, and six out of the eleven Ítaja/Galvaí jewelry or stationery box rewards. I’ll be private messaging everyone involved in this shipping round shortly with your tracking numbers. (It’s a reeeeeeeeeeally long receipt.)
I’m pretty pleased with the pieces of elfy jewelry I’ve produced so far and I can’t wait to hear what you think of them! And happy reading to anyone who is about to sink their teeth into Mornnovin for the first time.
As I’m sure you’ve all observed, time has been doing some awfully weird things lately. According to this nifty countdown timer I made last night, it looks like we’re 28 weeks and 3 days out from the release date of Trajelon. That feels like both forever and not long enough, as there’s still so much to do!
Among other things, I’ve been made aware that in my pre-surgery haste, I forgot to send out the Mornnovin eBook download codes to the entire Fantasy Fan reward tier. I’ll get on that immediately, so if you backed at that level, expect an email from me shortly with a digital code for an eBook download. Many people who already own a digital copy of Mornnovin have been gifting this download to friends and family, trying to hook more people in, and I think that’s fantastic. Gift away and spread the fantasy love!
Now as we enter the doldrums of the pre-launch period (still slowly doing the work and waiting on so many things,) I want to give you something nice. This is probably a little premature, as we’re still just a hair over six months out from the launch date, but would you like to see our wonderful cover? I’ve been dying to show it to you all this time and I feel like we could all use some beauty in our day.
I present to you – behind a cut for added drama – the absolutely gorgeous cover of Trajelon: The Way of the Falling Star Book 2, art by Scott Baucan.
Hey, friends. How are you doing? Crazy, stressful times, but I hope you’re finding ways to cope.
It’s been completely mad over here, too. After several months of buildup, my medical situation finally exploded into an emergency early in April and now the dust is settling. Not to get too much into it, but I’ve had a full thyroid removal in the middle of a pandemic lockdown, because it was slowly choking me to death, and it turned out after the fact to have been cancer.
Also apparently I had (Have? Had? Is it the kind of thing you can ever be rid of, even if you no longer have a thyroid? I’ll have to find out.) Hashimoto’s disease. So, whew! Glad that thing’s out of there.
To head off any concern, that’s that. No further worries or ongoing cancer treatments. For all intents and purposes, as much as anyone can ever say this about any cancer, I’m “cured.” Now it’s just about the recovery and settling into the right dose of the meds I’m going to have to be on in perpetuity, going forward.
While this whole episode obviously sidelined me temporarily, a few things have still been happening on the book and I’m slowly starting to get back to work.
I did manage to get the emails sent out with the short story and Mornnovin eBook download links before I went in for surgery, so if you didn’t already get yours, let me know.
I also spent the last hours of my pre-op time working on a new page at my blog where all of the Asrellion short stories will live permanently behind a give-what-you-think-is-fair paywall. You can find that here. It will continue to be updated as time goes on and more stories are written/added, so consider that a living page and check back often. For the time being, the reward short stories for this fundraiser (“Witness” and “Black Books”) will remain available only to those who backed this project at the relevant reward tiers. Probably until after the book release.
Also – and this was a lovely get-well-present – the first proof copy of Trajelon arrived the day I came home from the hospital. It looks amazing, inside and out. I did submit an updated cover file because the alignment of the spine was a bit off, but other than that it’s perfect. The second proof is in printing as I write this.
Given the current pandemic situation, Kirkus has shifted to a digital-only review model until further notice. Meaning, they’re not accepting physical book submissions at this time. That being the case, there was no reason for me to keep waiting on a perfect proof copy and I went ahead and submitted Trajelon for review. That was incredibly scary to do and felt super legit. There’s obviously no predicting how that will turn out, but a good review from Kirkus would be a big deal for an indie publication. Fingers crossed!
And because I’ve already got the book in to Kirkus and have my estimated review due date in hand, that means I am now in a position to announce a solid release date for Trajelon: The Way of the Falling Star Book 2. This bad boy will hit the market on Tuesday, November 24th, 2020. Backers can expect to receive their copies at least on November 17th if not earlier, mail systems willing.
Luckily, I’ve got some time to work on the other backer rewards. While I am beginning to feel more myself, I discovered this week when I tried to begin work on some of the jewelry that my hands and focus are still a bit shaky. That’s getting better all the time, but it was a reminder that I need to allow myself to keep a reasonable schedule on all of this and not push. I definitely don’t want to put a pen to that lovely parchment I ordered for the maps while I still have shaky hands!
So that’s where we’re at on this first weekend of May. Waiting on the second proof, waiting on Kirkus, waiting on my body to heal. Waiting, waiting, waiting. This is probably a good time to look into other review and publicity options, while I’m not quite ready to do much else and it’s still too early to know whether or not I’ll be able to make launch party plans.
I will also, as my feeble meatsuit allows, begin in the coming days to package up and send off the paperback copies of Mornnovin that are due to backers. Do feel free to message me with any questions about the project or the world of Asrellion in general and avail yourselves of the lovely FAQ. We’re going to get this thing done.
I’ll talk to you all again soon, and please, please: take care of yourselves and stay safe.
Tolkien’s hobbits have a delightful tradition that I’ve always admired: they celebrate their birthdays by giving gifts to others. I love giving gifts, which is at least half of why Christmas is my favorite holiday. Of course, I also love receiving gifts. So this year for my birthday, I’m giving all of us something lovely that I’ve been meaning to for a while now.
Anyone who happened by my blog yesterday may have noticed a new page under construction up on the menu bar:
That’s right! After talking about it forever, I’ve brought the first wave of Asrellion short stories to the web for your reading pleasure. Because I am a starving artist, they are of course behind a paywall easily unlocked by a couple bucks on PayPal.
At this time, there are three stories loaded up and available to all, with more to come as the published canon catches up/ I decide to release some hostages. (The fourth and fifth titles listed on the page, “Black Books” and “Witness,” are currently available only to backers of the Trajelon Kickstarter project, probably until after the book’s November release.)
As of now, I’ve written eleven (eh… ten and a quarter) of these suckers and am always open to new prompts — and I still owe two unclaimed tailored pieces to backers of the last project! Frankly, I love filling in the little bits of the lore of Asrellion, and these shorter pieces have been a nice way of going about that. I might also, possibly, be willing to make the working Elven dictionary-in-progress viewable this way.
So consider this post the Open For Business sign of the Short Stories page. I’m absolutely delighted to be sharing these with you, and hope you enjoy peering deeper into the world of Asrellion with me.
The Kickstarter funds did come through finally! Yay! I immediately placed an order for the first of the supplies I need to begin making backer rewards. (The vellum for the maps has already come in and it’s glorious.) And by Wednesday, I had submitted my files to the printer, which were approved on Thursday, at which time I placed an order for a proof copy of Trajelon.
Why did it take me until Wednesday to get the files in? There may have been a tiny, terrifyingly dystopian trip to the ER in the first half of the week there. And I maaaaaaaaay be scheduled now for an urgent surgery this coming Thursday as a result. (Yes, in the middle of a pandemic. Yes, that’s as awful as you imagine it might be.) The second half of my week has been consumed by surgical prep and the attempt to have a little fun in the midst of all this because it is my birthday on Monday.
I’m going to be okay, and the book is still going to come out as planned in November or December. Just. Please bear with me over the next few weeks about the other backer rewards.
It had been my intention to get the short stories out this past week, which obviously has not happened. The longer of the two stories, “Black Books,” is ready to go, but the shorter piece, “Witness,” is undergoing one final beta read before I upload the file for you. The promo code for the free digital copies of Mornnovin is all set up – it’s just the email blast I still have to create. I’m going to try my damnedest to get this phase of rewards out and away before I go under the knife on Thursday, if for no other reason than because I’ll be able to rest better with it done.
Tl;dr: don’t be alarmed. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that everything is under control, but everything is being managed. Expect an email from me in the immediate future with your digital content.