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It has been a minute since my last update.
The reasons for the silence are many. And each unto itself could have provided a major challenge to writing. Combined... well.
My bout with COVID and its treatment cycle resulted in health issues that became a distraction in our little corner of the world. That lead to a surgical procedure to correct the issue, only to exacerbate things further. It is now being managed by medication, but it was a difficult few months.
Couple that, with the demands of my most recent consulting engagement -- originally projected to be three to four months -- concluding after fourteen months. You can see where my focus on writing might have slipped a little.
Then there were my struggles, when I could focus, with the next novel. As you know, if you read the preview at the end of Oaths and Odysseys, my intention was to take a break from the Windsor community and tell Ben's story from beginnings of the pandemic.
That particular plot bunny flitted through my mind when I was writing the first draft of Genesis Renewed in 2005. What if the story's protagonist was a college student, with limited life skills, in a small community in central Canada. With the pathogen's death rate he could find himself truly alone in the Canadian Plains. I brain-dumped some notes and stuck it in a file.
A fifteen-ish years later I dusted it off and it became a short story in a post-apocalyptic anthology published by Bayonet Books.
In the Fall of '23 I took an intro to screenwriting class. I dusted off my notes and the short story to expand to a longer work as the semester's project.
With a hundred-page screenplay as an outline in hand, I polished up the first few pages to attach as the teaser for Oath's release. In November '24 dove into Genesis Alone.
Knocking out a novel, with all this material to work with...piece of cake... right?
Pffffft!
By February, I had thirty-thousand words. And in March I hit a wall.
No matter how I tried to get around it, I couldn't get my head into crafting the story. Every sentence or paragraph was brutal. I spent hours moving comas around. In July, after four months of battling the wall, I decided the story needed to gestate a while, and I slipped it in a folder to ferment.
In August, I picked up the story of Dave Sharp and the Windsor community. And though progress has been slow, I am making progress on what I'm calling The Gathering. Not quite ready to warm up the crystal ball and make a guess on a publishing date, I'm hoping, without a new engagement on the calendar, to have the first draft completed by the end of the year.
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