It’s monkey time again. 

Seems that the little beast of self-doubt is never truly vanquished. 

Some echoes never fade, and his grip holds as tight as it ever did.

Self-affirmation can only take you so far, chanted mantras can only do so much.

The elephant it remains.

Art isn’t its own reward, Dorian Gray the only painting designed to be hidden, everything else needs to be seen, cries out into the night for daylight to caress its canvas and oil.

Written words are as impassioned as those masterful brush strokes.

Phrases clever and coy jostle with emotion raw and honest for a caring eye to save them from obscurity.

They are patient, but what they have isn’t inexhaustible, action needs to be taken, screams to be taken!

Your work may indeed fall flat, but it still wants its day in court, it still needs to plead its case.

So, the monkey of self-doubt rides my back, while the elephant in the room shares that deadpan expression, it knows the obvious.

Publish.

Publish and be dammed.

Publish and let the tiles fall where they will.

I could very well be that pretentious prick in the café with the cold coffee letting everyone know that he’s writing a novel…

But this struggle is real, and it keeps me awake at night.

Is my best version good enough? 

First world problems of the safe and the well fed.

My only risk is my ego; not my house, not my life – yet still I dither…

Stay safe – keep sane and as ever thanks for listening!

It’s one of those analogy metaphor things that kinda explains where I’ve been and how things have been going.

Amy Grace was intended to be a trilogy, a three-part series neatly wrapping up a single event.

By and large it worked, all be it that I stumbled into five books and not three…

And therein was the rub. 

Book five just didn’t sit, it was a good premise (brilliantly told), but it was one that I just struggled and struggled to run with. 

The tales follow on from each other, but No.#5 just felt awkward.

‘Home’ began where ‘Prison’ ended only it didn’t.

‘Home’ was more a much fuller and compete ending that ‘Prison’ needed – and now that’s what it is.

The WIP that was ‘Home’ has now morphed into the end of ‘Prison’ – and the whole thing now reads so much better. 

The ‘albatross’ around my neck is now gone. 

I’m not struggling to turn 40,000 words into a full novel, nope, these extra words now provide a more fulfilling and complete ending to a saga, give us a clean break from which to write new adventures.

‘Prison’ is now retitled as ‘End,’ and a brand-new adventure tentatively titled ‘Friends’ is now in the offing – and it feels good.   

So, around my neck no longer hangs a sea bird of lore, my fingers instead now type freely a tale of espionage, intrigue, and the rescuing of an old friend.

Things are looking up!

Stay safe, remain sane and love the life you live!