Where the deuce have you been?

Good question.

I never left, although maybe I did. Ooooo, soooooo cryptic! Like, the beginning of a mystery!

Nah. Them’s just facts.

I’ve unblogged plenty over the years how my creativity ebbs and flows like the [insert appropriately appropriate simile here]. So I won’t bore you with that (or will I?…).

Instead, I’ll just start with what is…

As you may or may not know, I’ve been working on two books–the third installment of The Guardian of Empire City series, and the sequel to Buddy the Knight and the Queen of Sorrow.

Both have been a slog. Is my heart not in them? Have I not thought through each story? Do I not enjoy writing the characters, the setting, the plot, the….everything?

Yes, and no.

I do know my ego gets in the way. That’s part of the problem. Over the years, I’ve hoped for greater and more positive receptions for both series. I’ve enjoyed 5-star, scintillating reviews. I’ve been crushed by 1 and 2-star reviews. I’ve never made it past the mid rounds of writing contests because I ALWAYS run into that one judge or reader who simply despises/doesn’t understand what I wrote.

I’m not supposed to read any of them…but I ain’t gonna lie. I read ALL of them.

Which means I just can’t get out of my own way, and is also why I’ll never be a full-time author. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune pin me to the deck, and I can’t get back to my two feet.

The above is an easy cop-out as to why I haven’t written anything, but that’s simply not the entire truth.

I lost part of my heart and soul back in January.

Around late November, I was gearing up to work on THE DEVIL’S SHARE. I had made the decision that I should concentrate on one of the two books, and went with TDS so that I could (potentially) complete the series. Would TDS be the last book about Detective Holliday? Maybe. It kinda felt like it. And I was already around 12-13 chapters in, so I wasn’t starting from scratch. I liked what I had written. I just couldn’t obtain lasting inertia after many writing sprints.

But around the holidays, I was feeling the itch to write. Always a good sign. So I began the re-read of the chapters, performing my typical along-the-way edits correcting the things I didn’t like / needed fixing.

Also, my 55th birthday was coming up at the end of the year. I wasn’t feeling the press of time, more a sense of “Get off your ass and writing something!”.

And that’s when Ollie, our beloved golden retriever of 10 years and my best friend, developed what we would soon discover to be a neurological issue. The strongest, friendliest (except with other dogs), sweetest, bestest friend in my world couldn’t walk on his hind legs. One day, he was fine, and then later that night, he couldn’t walk.

The nights leading up to his final passing were horrible.

His cries of pain crushed us.

We slept on the floor beside him. Rubbed his neck, his back, his hindquarters, hoping somehow that would help.

None of it did.

We took him to the vet where he received a steroid shot. We were told he’d experience severe incontinence, but it WORKED! My bestest buddy was moving around and doing fine.

For about two weeks.

And then we weened him off the the shot. His paralysis returned.

We discussed options with our vet. But it was clear that Ollie wasn’t going to be around for long.

We made the soul-destroying, heart-wrenching, brain-melting decision to have a concierge euthanasia company come to the house. They were wonderful.

And surrounded by our family, Ollie passed over the rainbow bridge in peace.

As I type this, I can’t keep the tears back. Beside my monitor is a beautiful, hand-drawn picture of my bestest buddy. His enduring wisdom, his endless love, his capacity for caring is on display for everyone to see. He was our heart. Our best boy.

Our friend.

The days that followed were empty.

Hollow.

Colorless.

I went to work. The boys went to school. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed worked from home. We went through the motions of life without actually living it.

I’d sit in our family room and be devoured by the silence in the house. No insistent huffing telling me Ollie needed to go outside. No protective barking because of an Amazon delivery about to invade our home. No watching our cats wander by and give him several head butts while he lay on the floor or his bed.

We had been a pack.

Now we were broken.

Lifeless.

Thankfully, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed had already started looking for a new buddy. We were all drowning. She knew the family needed help. We couldn’t go on as we were. And no matter how much she cried about her lost friend, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed knew it was time to bring someone new home.

We rescued a beautiful mixed mutt from a shelter who we have named Aviva (“Vivi” for short). She is full of spunk and life and intelligence and love. She is very different from Ollie, but there are plenty of similarities. Vivi has helped close the gaping hole left by Ollie’s passing.

And ever slowly but surely, I can feel my creativity seeping back into my broken heart.

I won’t say I’m used to a broken heart.

I’ve been married twice before I met She-Who-Must-Always-Be-Obeyed. I lost my mother over thirty years ago to cancer (FUCK CANCER). My father passed away a few years ago. I’ve had friends come and go. Prior to Ollie, I’ve had the privilege of caring for four dogs and four cats who have also crossed the rainbow bridge. Our family currently consists of two cats (Max and Leo), and Vivi.

But the heartbreak of losing Ollie was unlike anything I had before experienced. I’m still feeling it even as I type this. His memory is everywhere. I still find his hair on my clothes. And anytime I encounter another golden retriever, it’s like a part of him has crossed back just to say hello.

It’s been nearly 8 months since his passing. In that time, I’ve stared at my unblogging page, and each time I say, “Nope, not happening.”

Then today came along.

Things started off well. Vivi slept next to me, nearly shoving me off the bed. I made a very delicious homemade barley, beef and vegetable soup despite the ridiculous heatwave we’ve endured. Vivi’s third training session was excellent. Our girl was attentive and picked things up quickly. I even traded some texts with my eldest son who is currently attending college. I ate a tasty chocolate chip cookie. And I took a 2-hour old man’s nap.

Maybe all of the above was the tipping point. Maybe my hand was guided by someone from over the bridge.

Or maybe, it was simply time. I have no idea.

Right now, I’ve got THE PLANET OF LANA soundtrack adding hope, joy, and determination to this unblog post.

I constantly regard Ollie’s picture. And I wear a melancholic smile. But it’s a smile full of hope more than grief. It’s a reminder that hearts do heal, especially when you find someone new to care for, who reminds you what life can be all about.

For life is about living. Life is about remembering. Life is about experiencing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Life is what we journey through with (hopefully) wonderful companions to keep you company.

And, so I unblogged today.

This website is wasted by me, sadly. I don’t create a lot of original content (but we’ve been over that before). I don’t post a constant stream of “What have I been up to lately” stories. And I doubt that’ll change.

But I did feel the need to unblog today.

So here you go.

Thanks for listening.

8/9/15 – 1/17/26