Twenty-five books

That's how many of my novels are available. Lol.

Six standalones, four series, two volumes of poetry, and one collection of short stories. DUDE! 

That's a lotta writing. I mean, that is a copious amount of literary collections. Excuse my loose vernacular, I just cleaned the chicken coop.

But yeah, when one tallies the output, after nineteen years of this fiction gig, it adds up. I won't include the two novels currently under the revision microscope, though I could squeeze in Home and Far Away in another few weeks. Hopefully I'll be releasing that book before the end of the month, but it's the twelfth of October already and, well.... We'll see, fingers crossed, whatever God has in store for that manuscript, 'nuff said.

Okay, enough stated about that installment of The Enran Chronicles, but I shall wax lyrically about the rest of my beloved books. Briefly. Um, yeah, lol! Oh wait, FACEPALM! What about Drop the Gauntlet?

Maybe this post should be rewritten, but I don't have time for that. In that I have Halloween coasters to prep, the bed to make, dishes to do, and I'd REALLY LOVE to lay out my Alexandria quilt having finished the last of sixteen blocks that aren't the last blocks I have to sew, but completing those was a big, slightly shoulder-achy WIN, and I want to see how it all looks. Not that I can do much past gaze at it because my shoulder is still messed up, but I can dream, right?

The loose hexagon blocks along the bottom and top are placeholders. Those right above and below them are the new blocks, hehehe. Blocks on the sides aren't yet stitched together. So much sewing (and basting of shapes) remains, one of these days.

Because that's all writing used to be, my dream. I was a wife and mum, and I was and still am thrilled with those activities. Yet I wanted to write fiction. I had (and still possess) more plots than sense, and what I wanted to do with all those crazy ideas was craft them into some cohesive prose.

Nineteen years ago I was on my way. My eldest daughter, then seventeen, mentioned a writing competition that I might be interested in trying. While National Novel Writing Month is now defunct, back in 2006 it was thriving. I thrived within it, finally achieving my dream of writing a novel. Drop the Gauntlet. Yup.

It's mediocre, lol, but it ushered in MANY MORE tales, some of which I've published. Twenty-two novels, two books of poems, and a group of short stories written with the Top Writers Block collective: Hot damn, that's one helluva dream come true!

Gratuitous shot of Owl and Nadia from a couple of mornings ago, very curious about what waits past this side of the coop, LOL. Are they dreaming of new haunts, hmmmm....

I guess what I'm saying is don't give up on your dreams. Sometimes the journey might feel wholly fraught with chicken poo, but shovel that aside and the road becomes less stinky, resembling the goal you have fostered for what feels like forever. Will I complete Alexandria? I very much HOPE SO (You hear that cranky shoulder???). But if I don't, I can still write stories, assuming I can garner enough free time and the mental wherewithal to get my butt in the chair and, well, DO IT. Loud guffaws resound from Past and Future Me, to which I smile. Because they have been with me on this writer's path, sometimes marked by facepalms, but often graced with the gift over which I cannot fully express the gratitude it warrants. If I am to write another novel, or finish the one I started in summer, I most certainly will, just like sewing Alexandria.

What I need to remember as I admonish you, dear reader, to forge ahead with your aspirations!