Couple things before I get going here- yes, I just finished a new book. Yes, it’s a Nessa book. No, you don’t have to have read the previous Nessa books to dive into this one. Yes, it’s more for adults than young adults. Yes, I will be getting a pre order date that will allow this to be your Jolabokaflod pick for this year.

Wait, you don’t know what Jolabokaflod is? Here’s a handy link- https://jolabokaflod.org/about/founding-story/

Let’s see.. oh yes, audiobooks are still being held up by ACX, but my goal is to have the whole series recorded by mid June next year, and available by the grace of ACX before I die and my heirs have to claim the royalties. Yes, I’m a little salty about that- The Witch’s Daughter was submitted for QC at the end of June. The QC cycle is supposed to take thirty days. You may notice it’s almost December. Saltiness.

Onto the post!

I’m happy. I’m sad. I’m fulfilled. I’m bereft. Read on only if you want to listen to my ecstatic moping.

Welcome to what’s called the Book End Blues. This is my fifth book I’ve finished in six years, and I thought I wouldn’t feel this drag this time. Ha.

When you think about it in a particular way, I spend all year wanting to set aside time to play with my imaginary friends. You know, catch up on their stories, see what new shenanigans they are getting into now, really spend some time with them. You know, like folks (read freaks like me who have imaginary friends) do. And now they’ve told me all they are going to tell me, and I go back to living my own life for awhile.

I’m going to miss them. It’s funny, when I finished book 3, and I thought I’d finished following Nessa, this same feeling was here but a million times worse.

And then… crazy happened. I saw Nessa’s way forward, on a theme near and dear to my heart. Now I want to point out that I was strong. I resisted this… until about May. Then I told myself I’d write just a little novella and say goodbye and get it out of my system until I turned to Serious Work.

Well. Author proposes, character disposes, and the novella became distinctly unsatisfying because I was trying to cram too much into too small a space.

Fine, I said, still to myself. I’ll do just one book, just one, and tidy it all away.

Author proposes, character disposes. Having lived in this other world for so long now, I knew a lot of major things were happening, all having to do with my favorite imaginary friends. And suddenly, there’s another trilogy happening. Serious Work is just going to have to sit over there until I’m ready for it.

So… book end blues. I’m happy I finished something I never thought I’d do (and that’s true with every damn book, story, whatever I write, no matter how many times I do it. I’m always amazed that me, Ari, writes books and people like want to read them). I’m sad that all those thoughts have to go away for a while. I’m happy to be able to share the next piece of the story with my readers. I’m sad that I have to go through editing and marketing. I’m happy to get to work with Meredith, my reader, again.

And always, always, a fierce joy and wonder in holding a newly printed copy in my hands and saying, “This is mine. There’s a million out there, but this one is mine.”

To take us home, a tiny Actual Conversation at Casa de Wellman.

Me- Well, that’s it, the book is done.

Rick, a little vaguely as he wanders into my dark emo writing nook- That’s good.

Me- That’s it? That’s all I get?

Rick, grinning after he’s turned a light on- It’ll be great once it’s edited.

Me- lots of words too tender for most sensibilities before admitting he’s right.

You’d think, after as many times as we’ve seen it, we wouldn’t have anything new to say about the Star Wars movies.

You’d be wrong.

This morning, in celebration of Day 1 of Staycation 2020, we laid in bed and watched Return of the Jedi.

Me- I love this part, Chewie standing there on top of the AT-ST and roaring when it starts moving, oh no, little bitches, you are not driving this thing. Gimme that.

Rick- Well everyone thinks Ewoks don’t understand technology! They do just fine… they can drive this thing, and the speeder bike.

Me- Except he didn’t exactly have the height the mass to be on the speeder bike, slight problem there. And what the fuck was up with them being issued vehicles that completely don’t work with the terrain? Here ya go, your standard speedy tree boom death mobile, enjoy that shit.

-a little later-

Me- What was the fucking point of throwing his lightsaber up to knock the platform down? Great, now you’ve got the guy you hope will be your ally and help take out your boss to where he couldn’t defend himself. Great job, momo.

Rick- I think it was a flashback to the high ground situation. You gotta think, the last time a jedi had the high ground, it cost him a limb.. and he got burned.

Me- Alright, point.

We really are pretty easily entertained, I guess.

So, my readers know that I may have an opinion on peanut butter. For those of you that are NOT readers, this will take a little explanation-

Excerpt-

There was one other major difference of opinion that reared its head from time to time, over the unlikeliest of topics.

It began as we were putting away groceries. “That’s weird, I messed up and grabbed creamy peanut butter. Good thing there’s still plenty of crunchy left,” I said, putting it on the counter.

Luke picked up the jar with a proprietary air. “Nothing weird about it at all, I put the creamy in the cart. After all, it’s the only real peanut butter there is.”

I stopped cold in the act of putting milk in the refrigerator, eyeing him carefully. “I know you didn’t just say that. Creamy peanut butter is just spackle. It has no character, no purpose. You can’t make a decent peanut butter and jelly sandwich without crunchy peanut butter.”

A corner of Luke’s mouth wanted to quirk into a grin, then was ruthlessly suppressed. “I’m starting to understand the low quality of my pb&js all of a sudden. I hate to have to be the one to inform you of this, Nessa, my dear, but you’ve been doing it wrong!”

I gasped in horror. “A heathen, it’s a heathen I’ve been feeding! There’s only one way to make a pb&j, and that’s with crunchy peanut butter!”

Luke tsk’d his tongue at me, then began to demonstrate by layering his hands. “Wrong, wrong wrong! It’s a layer of creamy peanut butter and a layer of jelly on one slice of bread, then a layer of creamy peanut butter on the other.” He brought his hands together. “And THAT’S the only way to properly make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Crunchy peanut butter has no place here!”

“Blasphemy, sir!”

“How else do you keep the bread from getting all jelly sogged up?”

We were in each other’s faces now, giggling but still earnestly wagging fingers at each other. “You eat your damn sandwich as soon as you damn well make it sir!”

That argument, which was never going to be resolved anyway, dissolved into giggling. I took his point and made his stupid sandwiches his way, and all was well.

And back to today.

This bit is super special to me, cause it’s in memory of an actual conversation that Draz and I had… a lot. And this being the time of year it is, he’s on my mind lately.

Well.

Today while feeling thoroughly bummed out by our covid numbers… again… and the lack of non Cartmanesque behavior… again… I got a package.

There was a beautiful unsigned note with it that made me cry.. and it was filled with-

That’s right.. all these beautiful little containers of crunchy peanut butter.

I laughed and I cried some more. Whatever else I do in this life, I feel like I’ve touched some folk, and today… well that’s a very big deal to me.

I was cozily ensconced in my spot, typing frantically on today’s 1500 words when Rick clomped down the hall, flicking on the light over my shoulder.

Me- NO! Do not turn on the light for the muse will only speak to me while I am clothed in the darkness! Brighten not my cave!

Rick, flicking light off and considering me- And from the way you squinted, the glare coming off your screen must suck.

Me- Well, yeah, that too. But muses and darkness sound better.

We’re playing hooky today, and lazing around and generally doing things we feel like doing. While flipping through Hulu, we decided to watch some Sons of Anarchy.

And it was great.. Otto busted in Agent Stahl’s nose, Gemma was creepy Gemma, Jax was a Kurt Cobain rip off.. everything we loved about the show.

And then… the commercials came on.

Cue a bunch of random, malformed cucumbers, carrots, peppers, etc appearing on screen, and a confident, concerned tone asking if your guybits resembled the items on screen. Our mouths were hanging open as this gentleman waggled a carrot with severe issues in front of a guy dressed like a doctor, who frowned authoritatively.

Guys, we LOST it.

Rick, still laughing- I was fine up til the doctor is looking at the carrot… I mean, how does that play in a waiting room?

Me, wheezing- I’m seeing all these sad guys wandering around the produce section, looking at the misshapen vegetables for that perfectly shaped one that fits their particular problem!

We’re bad people who probably shouldn’t get too much free time on our hands.

While NOT laughing at drug commercials today, we made a thing. It’s a word association puzzle, kind of like a giant web. It goes on for nine panels, has 198 answers, and it’s free. Because we’re all seasonal and stuff, it starts with Halloween.

Have fun!

Sitting here this morning, not really awake yet, and hear this.

Bree, at window, staring out judgmentally at the world- Bork! Bork! Bork!

Rick- Bree, I know the world is an ugly place right now, but please stop barking at it.

Me, helpless laughter, instant typy type.

Allergies kind of suck.

They really suck when you’re living in the time of covid. Even though I faithfully take my Clairitin, I still wake up every morning just kind of thinking hey, is that normal itchy throat?

As usual, the one that truly pays the price of my crazy thoughts is Rick. He came home a little early today with an upset stomach.

Me- What do you want for dinner?

Rick, grumbly face- Something gentle!

Me- Poor honeybear, last night’s grilled cheese didn’t do it?

Rick- No, no it didn’t. You do know that you can quit making things spicier and spicier, just to make sure you can still taste, right? YOU DON’T HAVE COVID.

Me- shocked Pikachu face

And then I thought about it… and I realized he’s right. I’ve made meatloaf, dragonmeat x2, spaghetti, and the latest offender, chili, over the past week. All of them had a little more kick than usual.

My bad.

Sitting around with Rick and Jake (amazing foster kinda grown up kid) last night

Me- We were talking about how life has thrown us yet another PLOT TWIST.

Rick- Yeah, we’re in an M Night Shamalyan movie, and not even a good one.

Me- We’re in the Last Freakin Airbender! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

Jake- So, this is now Cassar de Wullmint… because names have to get messed up.

We love this kid. He gets us.

I’ve been a little quiet lately, for two reasons.

My life has descended into a place of frequent chaos and occasional despair, and I don’t think musings from this time are widely applicable or really helpful to share.

I’ve been listening. I’ve been learning. I’ve been feeling my way through the world, heart first. I’ve been trying on shoes that aren’t mine and don’t fit and trying to understand what it is like to have to walk in them.

And you know? The biggest thing I’ve come up with is that it’s still not our time to talk. We’ve been talking and building castles in the sky on the backs of others for centuries. As White America, we’ve made our reality the only reality to aspire to- in literature, in film, we’ve dominated every medium and marginalized or eliminated any other viewpoint. Otherness is only acceptable in tiny slices, and somehow presented in a way that demeans and patronizes rather than honestly telling the story of someone with no choice about being different.

This strikes to the heart of me- for whatever else I do and whoever else I am, I am a storyteller. To feel the weight of millions of words normalizing a world that should not exist, that cannot go on existing, knowing all of these stories have done their own kind of damage in building a wall that separates humanity… it breaks my heart.

We don’t need more down home folksy heroes. We don’t need more speeches about how important diversity is from people who lack it.

We need to truly embrace the experiences of others as real, the stories of others as true, as art, as human. The walls are thick and high, and we need to listen to the people locked away about the best and safest ways to tear them down.

We need to love one another. We need to forgive. We need to do right.

And it all goes back to listening to the stories we have to share.

I want to leave you with this quote from Doc Rivers.

“It’s just so sad. What stands out to me is just watching the Republican convention, viewing this fear. All you hear is Donald Trump and all of them talking about fear,” said Rivers, whose team had just beat the Dallas Mavericks 154 to 111 in Game 5 of the first round of the NBA playoffs.

“We’re the ones getting killed. We’re the ones getting shot. We’re the ones that were denied to live in certain communities,” said Rivers, holding back tears. “We’ve been hung. We’ve been shot. All you do is keep hearing about fear. It’s amazing why we keep loving this country, and this country does not love us back. It’s really so sad,” he added.

I’ve been a little quiet lately, for two reasons.

My life has descended into a place of frequent chaos and occasional despair, and I don’t think musings from this time are widely applicable or really helpful to share.

I’ve been listening. I’ve been learning. I’ve been feeling my way through the world, heart first. I’ve been trying on shoes that aren’t mine and don’t fit and trying to understand what it is like to have to walk in them.

And you know? The biggest thing I’ve come up with is that it’s still not our time to talk. We’ve been talking and building castles in the sky on the backs of others for centuries. As White America, we’ve made our reality the only reality to aspire to- in literature, in film, we’ve dominated every medium and marginalized or eliminated any other viewpoint. Otherness is only acceptable in tiny slices, and somehow presented in a way that demeans and patronizes rather than honestly telling the story of someone with no choice about being different.

This strikes to the heart of me- for whatever else I do and whoever else I am, I am a storyteller. To feel the weight of millions of words normalizing a world that should not exist, that cannot go on existing, knowing all of these stories have done their own kind of damage in building a wall that separates humanity… it breaks my heart.

We don’t need more down home folksy heroes. We don’t need more speeches about how important diversity is from people who lack it.

We need to truly embrace the experiences of others as real, the stories of others as true, as art, as human. The walls are thick and high, and we need to listen to the people locked away about the best and safest ways to tear them down.

We need to love one another. We need to forgive. We need to do right.

And it all goes back to listening to the stories we have to share.

I want to leave you with this quote from Doc Rivers.

“It’s just so sad. What stands out to me is just watching the Republican convention, viewing this fear. All you hear is Donald Trump and all of them talking about fear,” said Rivers, whose team had just beat the Dallas Mavericks 154 to 111 in Game 5 of the first round of the NBA playoffs.

“We’re the ones getting killed. We’re the ones getting shot. We’re the ones that were denied to live in certain communities,” said Rivers, holding back tears. “We’ve been hung. We’ve been shot. All you do is keep hearing about fear. It’s amazing why we keep loving this country, and this country does not love us back. It’s really so sad,” he added.