Visiting Amel

Book 9 of the Okal Rel Saga begins with Sam, barely married, but separated from Amel by war.

This morning, preoccupied with work, grief and money, I did not want to get up and face my rel.

What is an author’s story in the post-published state? Why not leave Okal Rel as buried treasure — briefly enjoyed by a few thousand people — to fade like all works that miss the fame-train? This would make sense.

But then how do I get out of bed? Because Okal Rel has always been home to my second, better self. The one that processes, protests and motivates.

My publishing plans, meant to carry the banner, have been knocked back three months by my husband’s death, a nasty experience, a changing support cast, and paying work. They await my attention to enliven them.

But I woke up feeling like an overflown pilot at risk of a long night (see book 8).

I picked up Book 9: Holy War, because I’d promised myself I would the night before, and read:

Sam hesitated on the threshold, longing for Amel but afraid she couldn’t bear the sight of him grievously wounded. Her head buzzed and her stomach fluttered.

“Sam!” Amel’s voice shocked her with its vigor.

So I got in my flight leathers and will fly, again, today.