Not drowning, juggling

being a writer is like being a duckMy, but I’ve been quiet lately, haven’t I? I blame it on the juggling. Sometimes I’m so busy watching all the balls in the air that I fail to look down and realise that my feet haven’t touched the ground in weeks.

One of both the joys and frustrations of being a writer who ‘writes all the things’ (as a friend of mine puts it) is that there’s very little breathing time between projects. It’s a joy because you just keep rolling along, moving from one thing to the next, always with a ball in play, meaning that writers’ block is not often a problem.

The frustration comes from the fact that you’re always waiting on something. Even as you’re savouring the pleasure that the end of a project brings, you’re alert, waiting, wondering if that other thing is going to get off the ground or fall flat on its face.

I’m not complaining. Just explaining why my poor old blog has been bereft of my presence of late. The truth is, I’m feeling like a duck right now*. All calm and serene and elevator music on the surface, and churning away like mad behind the scenes.

Anyway, that’s where I am, floating along on a pond of my own making, preparing for the excitement of Sydney Writers’ Festival next week.

In the meantime, I’d like to thank Squigglebooks and Buzzwords magazine for their fabulous reviews of Prisoner of the Black Hawk. It’s been such a thrill to see book two of The Mapmaker Chronicles welcomed with opening arms.

And now, back to juggling.

*With apologies to all the metaphors that were mixed with abandon in the writing of this post