I realized in the last few days that it has been several months since I posted a note on my blog. Even my traditional end of year reflection time seems to have come and gone without pause. Hopped back on the writing horse in earnest to see in the new year and I am ready to share again about my writing and other experiences.
It's fair to say 2015 was a year of major changes for me.
Started the year being diagnosed with a fresh auto-immune disease bringing the count of delightful genetically inherited ticking time bombs to three with the odds of inheriting all three together a whopping one in 36 with 10 to the power of 12 zeros after it. I'm not even sure there are that many humans on the planet. I personally think that the odds were a lot lower in reality - if it's in your genes, the odds are it's going to happen. Accept that. Three really is a magic number. Managing all my rare genetic gifts nicely now but it's fair to say it took a while to climb out of the dark place that little adventure took me.
The middle of the year was punctuated with the sudden death of my mother, Antonia, followed closely by the death of my old Burmese cat, Cous Cous. I missed the conversation of both so much. There's a new handsome Abyssinian feline in my life now, Sterling, who keeps my other grey Tonkinese cat, Khoshka, company (see below). Alas I will never be able to replace my mom.
The end of the year was a sojourn through real estate madness where I threw caution to the wind and decide to deal with my restlessness by selling my home and buying another and physically changing scenery all of one mile moving from one side of the same suburb to the other side. Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side. Actually, I moved to the serene side and have to admit I am loving the silence of my new surrounds. Tree-lined street, friendly neighbors, and the sound of rustling elm-tree leaves to soothe my mind.
I managed the last of these experiences with a degree of Zen calmness that I did not think was possible, experimenting with a GP in the realm of neuro-feedback therapy. It's a fancy term for non-invasive, non-drug related brain reprogramming. Imagine "A Clockwork Orange" style therapy without the violent images and contraptions forcing my eyes open, coupled with alpha-theta targeted hypnotherapy. I have not slept so well in decades and the headaches are few and far between now. I am not a different person - it's just what I am like when I am not exhausted - at least that is what I am confessing when people notice the stark shift in personality. "I'll have what she's having." EVERYTHING feels more manageable now. I am no longer a soft stone that tenses up solid whenever faced with situations that might have normally fuelled stress or anger. I think I finally understand the M'eh Generation.
As for the writing, after almost 18 months of major distractions, I am in a zone where I can focus and I have been possessed to do so. I finished the first draft of the Peithosian Gift in early September last year and received comments back from my editor in early November. It's not quite in the "rewrite the entire book" category though a request has been made "to consider" the core conceptual basis on handling of my main protagonist. I spent the lead up to the new year procrastinating about whether to accept this fundamental change (and moved house so probably would not have started rewriting anyway). After the move and festive celebration dusts settled, I thought why not. I spent the first three days of 2016 reworking the storyboard for the book. Still have a few weeks of scene restructuring to do before I commence redrafting and I am certain I won't meet my next deadline (end of March) because the rework will involve rewriting almost half the book.