I’ve reached a massive milestone in Book Two. Mentally, more than anything.
Writing this book has been a journey unto itself. The first pass meant pulling threads from countless spools, weaving them into something cohesive, something alive. This particular threshold, which I won’t name, felt like climbing a mountain. Not exhausting, but exhilarating. Still a test. Still a complex path to navigate.
Now that I’ve reached its summit, I can look down both sides. I can breathe. There’s a quiet sense of relief in that.
I’m deeply pleased with the progress. I love this world. I love its characters. I love the questions it asks; the challenges, communities, betrayals, lives, loves, losses, and lessons woven through its pages. I can’t wait to share them in Book Two, and eventually in Books Three and Four.
I’m still moving through a difficult season personally. But I’m grateful for this book, for the time I get to spend with my wife and children, for the quiet peace of writing while Anne works beside me on her pottery.
Each day, I do what I have to do. I search tirelessly. I hope the next day brings better news. Until then, I trust that things unfold for a reason.
So I’ll continue to write.
To help friends and family where I can.
To share this vulnerable part of myself.
And to enjoy the ongoing discovery of my voice, and my authorial identity.
