A Letter of Apology to My Readers

Asking people to spend their hard earned money on a book comes with it a certain responsibility, a promise between the author and the reader. One that requires the writer to not let readers down. Delivering books as soon as they and their publishers can. Consistently, if you please.

It is with a very heavy heart that I must announce -- that sounds pompous, but it's the only word that comes to mind tonight. I will not be at GRL this year. I have never missed a year, not even when the first time when it was just a group of strangers to whom Carol opened her city and heart to. GRL is, for me, like going home. It's family and friends and a revitalizing energy that can't be found anywhere else. I looked forward to it for the better part of a year.

The last few months have been decidedly different. Difficult. It's been hard to get into the spirit of GRL. Honestly, it's been hard to get into the spirit of a lot of things. Like a lot of other people, I'm dealing with depression and PTSD. The PTSD, I'm learning to cope with and manage. The depression, is different.  It's made worse by a series of decisions I made. The biggest and probably worse is what should have been a wonderful event. I bought a house. Technically it's a trailer. But I can live in it. The bad part is two-fold = I chose it -- not because it felt like home, or had the right energy, was in the right neighborhood, or had the right details. I chose it simply because it was the only available and I had to be out of my apartment in 24 hours. No joke. I didn't wait to the last minute, but it came down to the last minute and the place I did want the company holding the title wasn't making a decision or at least letting anyone else know what was going on. That's their prerogative. I ran out of time. Me being homeless is one thing, and one I'd accept. My daughter being homeless is a different story. That I couldn't. So, I bought a house. It needed work. A lot of it. But, I was fairly certain I could do it. There were no appliances, but I knew I could find those second hand. Pretty wasn't important right away, just working. I didn't know until it was too late that not only was the water heater completely dead, none of the water pipes were connected and over the last winter they froze and cracked. The seller didn't disclose anything and because it's a trailer and not a house, there is no recourse. Because I was desperate, I paid more than I should have and bit off more than I could chew. And the worse it seems to be getting.

I have a day job, it should help. It does. Mostly. But the real life worries I'm facing mean I can't focus on my writing like I need to. Like I promised I would. I have wonderful Publishers and Editors, and even better Readers - I know, because I've met some of you. I promised to give you the best stories I could, and I haven't been able to. I'm trying. Now. There are more times that I sit at my computer and play games than I write. But I'm trying something new. Something my friend Brynn Paulin recommended years ago. I did it off and on before, and I find that now especially, when I read a daily prompt then journal I can focus on my writing more. I've also found that accepting all of who I am helps, even if I still keep most of it to myself. It's one less thing to worry about.

I'm sorry to let you down, not only have I not written the books I've promised, but now I can't make GRL.  Maybe next year.  I don't dare promise, because I can't see more than a couple days a head right now.

Blessings to All,

Simone.