Midnight’s Dawning
I jump around a bit in this blog because it’s interesting to contrast my attitudes of today with that naïve, optimistic, hopeful writer from over thirty years ago. Writing about him, I miss him, and the idealism he nurtured. But it wasn’t all hopefulness. Sometimes, reality snuck in to temper the enthusiasm. As occurred after I finished my novel. I started wondering why a publisher would take a chance on an unknown, untried author who’d only written book one of a proposed four-book series. A big part of this concern was genuine self-doubt. An equally big part was just how clueless I was about what to do next. I decided…
The Big Goodbye
It wasn’t long after I finished my typewritten novel that I started experiencing panic attacks. The first one woke me in the middle of the night, terrifying me, and leaving me seething with anxiety. I was sure something had broken inside my head. I thought the anxiety would run it’s course, the way a cold would, but it remained omnipresent. The nights became a horror; I dreaded the quiet, where the anxiety could just spill out into the emptiness. But, conversely, sleep brought the only refuge. Finally, I decided I needed to see a GP – just not my GP, who knew my parents well. I didn’t want to risk…