You’re Going To See A Lot Less Of Me

You’re going to see a lot less of me.*

My lawyers have assured me that this does not constitute a binding contract, and I’m free to contradict this at any time.**

**I also did not run this by my lawyers.***

***I’m sure they’d agree with my assessment.

I digress–you’re going to be seeing a lot less of me.

This isn’t a break up. This isn’t a, “it’s not you, it’s me.”

In fact, you really shouldn’t worry about me in the slightest.

This is more of a…well…I’ll steal some Tolkien here:

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

This might be some dangerous business indeed…

But before we dive into why I’m going off together, let’s take a look at two distinct yet related events from the past few months.

First was at the end of October. I was lounging cozy under a blanket on vacation, reading my book and sipping my coffee–a combination every bit as good as cheese and wine. The book in question? The wonderful A Bloody Business (review here, I’m not above self promo).

If you think this sounds like a wonderful way to kill a morning, it was. Admittedly, this is a pretty regular occurrence for me, and that begs the question; why does this mean you’re going to be seeing less of me?

We’ll, frankly, it was because I put the book down and traded some messages with the author. I’ve read a lot of self published books in my life, I’ve also not finished reading a lot of self published books in my life. This one though…the quality of the writing, the beauty of the cover design and formatting, the yearning for more after I finished…it has a je ne sais quoi that inspired me.

I’m waxing poetic here. To get to the point, A Bloody Business provides the map for my journey off into the fog. For the first time in my life, I set it down and said, “I can do this.”

What good is an unused map?

And if it wasn’t for Stephen and his openness to my questions, I would never have felt empowered in that. So accept this “thank you” even though I missed the letters of gratitude challenge.

Sidebar: really excited to read some Dick Winchester.

Sidebar over.

Onto the second event. Vocal came out with an important challenge in my writing career, and I’m sure you’re now thinking I’m going to humbly, but blatantly, brag about how I now have a gold medal on my profile.

Wrong!

(I’m still proud of that)

No, the second event was the release of the Fantasy Prologue II challenge.

I didn’t place in this one, and that’s fine. If there’s another lesson I can instill from this piece, it’s this: don’t let placement and accolades, or lack thereof, disabuse you of your work’s quality.

I’ve read plenty of Hugo and Nebula award winners I was whelmed by, and also plenty of unheralded works that knocked my socks off.

But this tale inspired by my fascination with the Dutch Waterline has spiraled into something much more. Two days after hitting submit on that entry, I was on a flight finishing up the first drafts of the finale and the epilogue.

Now I just need to fill all the bits in between.

So, you’re going to be seeing a lot less of me because for the first time I’ve got an idea worth sinking my teeth into, an idea that has the je ne sais quoi I’ve been looking for, and an idea where the details logically and organically fall into place.

Most importantly, there are characters here who have a story worth telling.

I love you all.

I love Vocal.

I love all that it provides. I’ve crossed the five thousand read mark, won a challenge, earned real, physical dollars that have been used to better my life. This place is amazing, and I urge any young writers to come here, sharpen their craft, and support others who support you in turn. If you do that, you’re on your way.

Sidebar (and you knew these were coming–I’ve never been one for staying on trail when I see something shiny): please for the love of all things holy don’t start your stories with “in a world” sentences. AI ruined that opening style for everyone.

Back to the broadcast.

But the sad fact is I only have a finite amount of time to write, and my hope is to one day, finally hold that collection of glue and paper in my hands.

I’ll still be around reading your works, dropping in bits and bites when the mood strikes, or when something really grabs me. I’ve already got a few ideas for the Vocal challenges, so those will pop up here and there (I have an idea for the playlist challenge that totally won’t win but that I am LOVING). I’ve also got some ideas from the vault I may pull up and polish off.

But all of my daily writing sprints are now going into A War of Skulls and Horses (working title that is almost certainly going to change, or it won’t, who’s to say. Again, my lawyers appreciate me covering my ass).

2024 taught me I could do this–that scribbling around was more than a fanciful way to spend some downtime. And with that in mind, there’s really one, critical lesson to be learned from 2024.

It’s that I can,

Actually,

Amazingly,

Improbably even...

...do this.

2025 is the time to actually do this.

I’ve always had big, wonderful, fantastical dreams of being an author. I’ve also had a lot of naysayers in life that I gave way too much time and energy toward in the past.

You’re going to see less of me, and how I wish we’d have all met sooner. Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken me to thirty to start believing in myself.

You’re going to see less of me.

But it’s nothing personal.

After all, I couldn’t do this without you.

(chances of all this being invalidated within a month: 79.56%)