The last few years have not been easy. The joy of having a first child with the love of my life was overshadowed by the terminal illness of that love of my life. Years of illness, his passing and then years of grieving... I find I'm still trapped in a cycle of "just leave me the fuck alone" with pretty much everything in my life. I'm deeply depressed, yet high functioning. And through all the rough times over the last six years, I've always found solstice in writing.
Too many changes, however, this year had me so out of sorts that I stopped writing all together. Stopped doing most things I enjoyed. I can oscillate between, "hell yes, I'm so finishing this series ASAP! there's so much to do!" and "fuck this. fuck everything." within days. It's frustrating and just adds more to the anxiety I already suffer.
I'm on one of those up moods this week, apparently.
I think I've gotten myself back into mostly writing state these days. Book six is looking better than I remember, however I have the last few chapters to hash out yet. Things are getting rather complicated, maybe needlessly, and I need to work it out. After the release of book five, Primal Burdens, I'd planned on having six out within a year of that, possibly sooner. So, like... last month? Ish? Yeah. Obviously not happening. Optimistically, I'd like to aim for Christmas. But maybe I should be realistic and say early Spring.
Point is, I DO plan on finishing. I'm dying to, actually (this week, anyway). But as Tristan would agree, all well laid plans usually get fucked. And not in the fun way.