Child of Sorrow
Can it really be four years since I've updated this blog? Where does the time go?
Wait ... I can answer that. It goes to teaching, raising kids, and finishing the next book during the few scraps of time I could find in-between.
Well, the kids have been raised. One just graduated from college, and the other is about to start his junior year (remotely, of course).
Teaching continues to bring me joy, although I did finally let my tutoring work go. Something had to go, and I thought it probably shouldn't be the kids (kidding, of course), so tutoring it was.
Even then, the book probably still wouldn't be finished had I not spent several weeks this past spring away from home. I traveled to my parents' house to help them, and my brother, who has Down Syndrome, navigate through some medical issues in the midst of rising cases of COVID-19.
It was a strange time. I haven't lived at home since the age of 17. And while you might think it would be more work to take care of three potentially medically fragile people, it actually wasn't. It was peaceful, as if time stood still while I was there. I got to know my parents, and my brother, in a way I never would have otherwise (after all, the age of 17 was a very long time ago!). And I got to use my mother's office, which was actually my old bedroom, to spend quiet time writing.
Her desk was situated in front of the window, my view the backyard and fields I ran through as a little girl. Pecan trees, apple trees, oak trees, birds and butterflies and the occasional deer or rabbit.
The memories were overwhelming and bittersweet. That old farm is the setting I used in A Woman Misunderstood and that area of Tennessee is also the setting for my latest one, Child of Sorrow.
During quiet moments, I got lost looking out that old window, and it was strange, I must admit, to have both memories and story ideas running circles simultaneously in my head.
The end result is that my parents and brother are all healed and healthy, and I (finally) completed my latest novel.
Some small part of me thinks it would be nice to return to my parents' house to work on the next one; another much larger part of me surely hopes it's not due to any medical crises.
You all be safe out there, you hear?
Best,
Melinda
Wait ... I can answer that. It goes to teaching, raising kids, and finishing the next book during the few scraps of time I could find in-between.
Well, the kids have been raised. One just graduated from college, and the other is about to start his junior year (remotely, of course).
Teaching continues to bring me joy, although I did finally let my tutoring work go. Something had to go, and I thought it probably shouldn't be the kids (kidding, of course), so tutoring it was.
Even then, the book probably still wouldn't be finished had I not spent several weeks this past spring away from home. I traveled to my parents' house to help them, and my brother, who has Down Syndrome, navigate through some medical issues in the midst of rising cases of COVID-19.
It was a strange time. I haven't lived at home since the age of 17. And while you might think it would be more work to take care of three potentially medically fragile people, it actually wasn't. It was peaceful, as if time stood still while I was there. I got to know my parents, and my brother, in a way I never would have otherwise (after all, the age of 17 was a very long time ago!). And I got to use my mother's office, which was actually my old bedroom, to spend quiet time writing.
Her desk was situated in front of the window, my view the backyard and fields I ran through as a little girl. Pecan trees, apple trees, oak trees, birds and butterflies and the occasional deer or rabbit.
The memories were overwhelming and bittersweet. That old farm is the setting I used in A Woman Misunderstood and that area of Tennessee is also the setting for my latest one, Child of Sorrow.
During quiet moments, I got lost looking out that old window, and it was strange, I must admit, to have both memories and story ideas running circles simultaneously in my head.
The end result is that my parents and brother are all healed and healthy, and I (finally) completed my latest novel.
Some small part of me thinks it would be nice to return to my parents' house to work on the next one; another much larger part of me surely hopes it's not due to any medical crises.
You all be safe out there, you hear?
Best,
Melinda
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message 1:
by
Malcolm
(new)
Aug 10, 2020 10:44AM
The novel came out well, Perhaps it was the old room. Perhaps it was the window and the memories. Perhaps it was the right time.
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Malcolm wrote: "The novel came out well, Perhaps it was the old room. Perhaps it was the window and the memories. Perhaps it was the right time."Thank you. I think maybe all of the above. :-)
Oh my, how could I be so late to the party? Didn't know that you had a new book out, and I follow you on GR. I will rectify that and purchase that book today, my friend.
Jean wrote: "Oh my, how could I be so late to the party? Didn't know that you had a new book out, and I follow you on GR. I will rectify that and purchase that book today, my friend."Jean, thank you! I hope you enjoy it. :-)
