A post I would rather not write.

I don’t want to write this. I’ve put it off for over a month, though, and it’s been hanging over my head like a piano on a rope.

So. My publisher closed it’s doors. I could end the post right there, because that’s the end of it. No book. No book to hold and smell and dance around the house with. I am heartbroken. The road to this contract was a long one and to have it taken away is, well, heartbreaking. There’s no other way of putting it.

What’s next? Well, I’m on submission with a new book. The canceled one is being set aside for now, and that’s fine. I love the new book with its unusual hero, Reilly. I took a risk with him, but he turned out amazing and beautiful and wonderfully imperfect. It’s possibly the best thing I’ve written and I’ve never been so anxious about a manuscript being out there. This book is being considered by editors of the best YA books published in recent years and I’m sitting here in Maine with a space heater and safety pins holding on the zipper of my sweatshirt, typing this while my toddler naps in the next room. It all feels impossible. Like trying to break through a wall. I may scratch at the mortar for the rest of my days and never dislodge a single brick.

The. Worst. Day. Ever.

Kali, "Wiggity-Wu" and "the girlie face" 9/11/01 ~ 1/5/13

When we went to bed that night, we didn’t know that would be the last night she would sleep at the foot of our bed.

I guess that’s just the thing: we never know. I live the best life I can. I try to be good to the people I love. And even to the people I don’t. But I’m not, always. With this dog, I have no regrets. She lived a good life as a beloved member of our family. She was a very good dog; so easy to love. Her sudden passing is a reminder to me–be gentle, be soft. Slow down. Forgive.

Ah, the lessons we learn from our dogs.
Even after they’ve left us.