When I was young, I loved nothing more than for a storm to blow up and the power to go out. It if was summer, the windows would be raised, increasing the sound of the thunder on the wind and if it was winter, then the warmth and ambiance of a wood-burning fire filled the room. With a well-worn and heavily used notebook and a candle in hand, I’d steal away to a corner of my home to write. I’d sit hunched over my paper and pen until at last power would be restored and I’d bemoan its presence, hurrying to capture the last vestiges of inspiration before it disappeared along with the darkness.
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Nowadays, it seems the storms that knock out the power are few and far between. Maybe they had been just as infrequent when I was a kid, but I look back on those times with childlike wonder. I also rarely write stories in any of my numerous notebooks and instead take to my computer with its ever-useful backspace button and built-in spell-check. Likewise, I don’t have the opportunity to sit down merely because the atmosphere of the moment insists on becoming my muse. I now have to awaken before the other members of my home and hole up in my closet-office with my morning coffee and sweater that I have now dubbed my writer’s sweater. You know the one, that cliché sweater worn in those movies that cast writers as the main character. Over the years, my night writing and storm writing behaviors have adapted themselves at first to the life of a working wife, then a first-time stay-at-home mom, and now a homeschooling mother of three with a flock of chickens, a half dozen cats, and two dogs who seem to require as much attention as my babies did.

But there are times when the kids insist on being early risers or I accidentally manage to sleep in, so I simply slip on headphones and let the kiddos fend for themselves until a fairly respectable time for the small humans to be up socializing. The music always seems to help whether they are in the living room behind me playing Minecraft or Animal Crossing or I am alone with only my thoughts and a once hot coffee to keep me company.
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In other words, I’ve realized to be any sort of writer I have to write and in order to do that, I have to adjust to my current situation and surroundings. Sometimes they may evolve over years and sometimes they may change from day to day. But no matter what, I have words and stories that insist on being written, insist on being told.

My thoughts on the new miniseries prequel as a lover of the books, the games, and even the original Witcher TV adaptation. There is a lot of controversy over this recent addition to the Witcher world and for good and not so good reasons. But I can only speak for myself.

Unfortunately, it took me two episodes to really get into it. Nothing felt as though it should have existed in the Witcher world, even the one created by the Netflix showrunners themselves. The set design, costumes, and even makeup gave me the impression of generic YA high fantasy. These are not necessarily bad but certainly didn’t fit the overall feel of the dark, gritty tone fans enjoyed from the books, games, or original Netflix series. My point of interest came in episode three and the beginning of four. I personally loved seeing another witcher at work who wasn’t Geralt and that’s because I love the fascinating and complex world that Sapkowski created.

With House of the Dragon now airing on HBO, I suppose it’s past time for me to talk about A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin. I consider this series to be one of those that a reader either loves or hates and there is very little in between. I personally loved it. As a whole, it’s well-written and Martin delivers what is certainly some very bloodstained and vicious entertainment. The world in which the story takes place is rich in detail and thousands of years of history, with each region of the world having their own lore, quirks, and unique little sayings. Even each house within Westeros has distinct details that set them apart from others of the same standing. Martin created an entire universe that doesn’t fit the formulaic fantasy norm. Instead of a high fantasy composed of complex magic and a multitude of humanoid races, Martin did the opposite and A Game of Thrones very much mimics historical fiction but with dragons.

​So, in case you haven’t seen my other blog, I’ll fill you in. Sometime back around the first of the year, I had finished another draft of my work in progress. I took a quick break before what I hoped would be my last draft before sending it off to beta readers. During the process, I had gotten stuck pretty badly and after a lot of thought; I ended up cutting about twelve thousand words or so. The character arcs and the setup for the second book are necessary, but I’m going to have to be more clever about how they end up in the story.
As a way to reignite the fire in me that was dwindling, I had started two new projects. One was simply a mash up of many ideas gathered from various other mediums over the years and the other is a TTRPG adventure. I have since added a third, but I digress. Since May, I was able to power through and finish the draft, but have decided to do some cleanup to the manuscript since removing words made a few foreshadowings null and void.