Someday I hope to have good news to announce, i.e. the publication date for Quantum Quest, which brings to a close my many years of writing the Pawn Quest trilogy. Those years reflect my involvement, not the far shorter time that actually passes in the tale.
Meanwhile, I’m preparing an Afterward to be included in this last volume, a part of which is directly below:
***
Many years ago, I turned to writing when I realized that the coming birth of my daughter would delay my dream of finally putting my library degree to work. On the other hand, those years of reading aloud to my children reawakened my deep love of juvenile literature, so that ultimately I found my niche as a Youth Services librarian.
My early writing attempts resulted in many false starts. One idea that endured combined a picture and an emotion. Out of my old manual typewriter came a description of a teenaged boy on a strange planet—but who was he? Why was he there? About the same time, I read an article of a mother losing her children to authorities through no fault of her own. Fiery protective instincts flared for my own kids, and also for that boy isolated on another planet; he too had a mother—somewhere—who cared.
Over the years, Ran’s story grew, he made friends, he landed into trouble and boarded that starship. My children grew older as we moved and moved again. I thought about applying for a job but, after that long hiatus from school, had lost confidence in myself in spite of my masters degree. Therapy aided my move out into the world, helped me find my dream job in a public library system, and gave me the courage to divorce my husband. For years, I was busy and happy, and wrote sporadically.
The tale continued growing, but remained unfinished. In those last years before the Covid-19 epidemic, my characters began clamoring for release. Ran and friends were stuck somewhere in the middle of a Hero’s Journey with no escape. Typhus demanded his own adventure. And I too felt stuck in a story with no end.
Somehow I had to free myself from the beginning of the tale, so that my characters could complete their coming of age adventures. But again I had fears and self-doubts, just as years before I had doubted myself when facing the job market. If I couldn’t finish, maybe I should quit altogether. But the thought of quitting caused a profound sense of loss. My only other route was to walk into a new terror, the unknowns of self-publishing.
***
One last volume awaits going to press, but my terrors have now moved on to the challenge of publicity, not publication. I am both working on it and avoiding thinking about it.
Years ago, I accidentally drove my car into a ditch. A very kind man stopped to help. To my embarrassment and shame, that act of being pulled out of the ditch brought up fear that caused me to hit the brake pedal.
How many times in my life have I acted against my own good? I don’t believe I’m the only one.
For months, the book was in the hands of a copyeditor. It now awaits a jacket cover. I suspect the slow progress is due to my own vibes of “not yet, not yet,” and the universe is listening.
It’s time to lose the fear and take my involuntary foot off the brake.
