Six and a half years have passed and I still have no idea.
I woke up the other day in a semi-first-thing-in-the-morning-panic and said, I have no idea what's going to happen.
But then I realized what you already know. No one has any idea what's going to happen. Life can't be predicted. At best you have a sense of the rhythm, but even that can be disrupted by snowstorms and asteroids and phone calls.
Fortunately for all humanity, not all disruptions are bad. My life had fallen into its own specific rhythm nine years ago, when I wrote Life As We Knew It. A little less than two years later, there it was.
Not unexpectedly, there were additions.
But then the additions kept on happening.
Naturally, that inspired me to keep writing.
And now, here's what that one book has led to.
Along with the books, I've written this blog. I decided fairly early on that the blog would be about process. While I've always been happy to announce the good things (and there's been a lot of that), I also wrote about the failures and dead ends and general aggravation that's been an integral part of my career.
I've never been big on suffering alone.
But now my process involves retirement. I haven't written a book since completing The Shade Of The Moon a year and a half ago. That's the longest stretch for me since I began Just Morgan, well over 40 years ago. Shade is my 78th book to be published, and there's no round number I'm aiming for. 78 seems like as good a number to stop on as 80 or 90 or 100.
So just as I've retired from writing books, I'm retiring from writing this blog. 726 posts seems like as good a number to stop on as 800 or 900 or 1000.
I don't seem to be missing writing books. I don't know how I'll feel not writing this blog. As long as Blogspot allows me to stay here rent free, the blog itself will linger (and I'll try to remember to put updates over on the right side). Should something truly wonderful happen (which I don't anticipate), I'll post on Twitter that there's a new blog entry.
I've never been big on celebrating alone.
I wish I could explain how much you have meant to me. Over the course of these six and a half years, I've met maybe a dozen of you in person, and each time it's been a thrill for me. I am so grateful to you, those who have left comments, those who have emailed, those who I've never heard from but I sense your presence anyway. You've been a significant part of my life, and I appreciate you more than you can possibly know.
Always have hope.
Never lose faith.
Trust in tomorrow.
Accept the impossible.
And thank you so much.
