If you go to the Jasper Public Library website and type in either my name or “Two Minds Are Better Than One,” you’ll see that (currently as of the time of this posting) both books are checked out. Madness, says I. It’s hard to imagine other people reading my works despite having taken four or five creative writing classes in college where an entire room of people was reading my works and talking to me about it to my face. The novels, I figure, will be similiar insofar as the fact that the people currently reading them are fellow librarians. One of the librarians is a lady I work with often, and she has just been gushing about how much she’s enjoying the novels to the point of missing sleep so she can stay up and read. She got through the first twenty-five pages quickly and immediately reported that despite never ever having touched a science fiction (or fantasy novel, as it technically is though our library classifies it as science fiction) book, she’s enjoying it and laughing immensely. She’s now three-quarters of the way through and still insists she’s enjoying it, asking questions and prodding for more information, wanting to know more. It’s thrilling at the same time as chilling. After all, what if the subsequent eight books in the series aren’t as well written? Aren’t as amusing? Honestly, I know they’re not nearly as funny because I know what I’m going to do to my characters later in the series. In some parts, Solennelle absolutely suffers, and while I could prevent it (I am the author, after all), I won’t. In fact, I’m causing it. It’s scary to think that I can be so cruel towards another person, even a fictional one, but one thing I love about writing is taking a normal person (or even not-so-normal) and throwing them into unique situations just to see how they react. Poor Solennelle must put up with my sick sense of psychological study.

Similarly, I’m writing a romance novel. Rather than take the simply, tried-and-true route of having a heterosexual relationship, I’m writing about two men forced to keep their love secret because society has issues with anything unique and different. It’s a love affair with the ignoble “What if” that keeps me at my keyboard, keeps me creating entire worlds, universes, societies, situations, people, even neologisms in my never-ceasing quest for a look at humanity. In a sense, I wonder if this is akin to what Gene Roddenberry felt as he wrote for Star Trek, the quest not only for the exploration of space but for the exploration of the soul, the mind, the emotions, the very thing that makes us human and makes us unique but the same in our shared experiences of simply being mortal. People wonder why I have insomnia when thoughts such as this prevent my mind from attaining the quiet stupor required for unconsciousness.

At any rate, with the so-far positive reception of my novel outside of the family, I have been encouraged to resume writing with gusto. I want to get the romance novel done and out of the way while my mind is still in the right framework for such an undertaking. Then I need to finish editing the third novel in the Sol & O series so that it’s not hanging over my head while I take up the second novel again. I’d love to get the second novel written this year so I can publish it. I know now that there’s an audience (albeit small so far), and I feel like I do have my own commentary to add about the human condition. Should my words find purchase, so much the better. As it is, I still worry that via my own cruel, harsh way of handling my characters that I will lose some of my audience, but these are the stories in my head, and they must come out somehow.

Must stop typing. If I continue to type here, my wrists and fingers will ache too much to finish chapter four of the romance novel. At any rate, just thought I’d share some thoughts that have been flitting through my head almost aimlessly. Time for tea, time for notes, and time for words. Night!