Child Loss, Depression, Life, Writing

Depressed pile of goo

It is one year today since I lost my son, and I’ve been in a funk all week, crying at work, snapping at people, moping around and writing till my hands hurt. Nothing really helps. Nothing can fill the emptiness left behind by him. I took his name as my pen name, and seeing his name on my books hurt too. I don’t know if anything will ever make this better.

I have also been splurging on covers for the Black Friday. Pretty sure my finances are in the red right now.

I think I will finish Colliding Forces today. On to Fiery Magic and Magic and Mayhem. The Spell of Gods will need a lot of work, and so will everything else I finished in October and November.

Right now, I’m going to stay inside my depression cave and not emerge.

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