A Letter of Late Summer
Summer is rushing to an end, yet this last month already feels like a slow caress, unwilling to relinquish it's hold. I am eager for summer's end and autumn's arrival, though I fear I must be patient a while longer. Patience is not my strongest trait. I often wonder if I have any.
I've written letters in the past to you, dear readers, but as with many events this year, I have found myself focusing on a new path when it comes to writing and blogging. I've discovered I'm not as much of a fan of blogging as I once was, yet I still like to keep in touch with readers, hence the letters. Of course, I'm a fickle person—an unfortunate trait—so I'm likely to change my mind again and go back to standard. This is an experiment of sorts, and I do so enjoy trying new things.
One of the craziest new things I tried was some years back. I went skydiving. It was new to me . . . and once was more than satisfying. I used to find ways to overcome my fear of heights, and not surprisingly, none of them worked.
You may have noticed that 2017 has not yet seen a new release under MK McClintock. It has been a year of change, transition, and getting healthy, none of which seem to go well with an organized writing schedule. I have set a goal to rid my life of chaos. Not all of it, mind, because a little chaos can do a person good, but most.
I still hope to release a book by Christmas, though only the coming months will tell. There will be two releases under McKenna Grey; one was in early spring and the other will arrive later this fall.
We have lots of smoke here in NW Montana, and all over the West, and as much as I love home, I've been thinking about the summer I enjoyed in New England a few years back. If it weren't for my obsessive fear of Lyme disease, I'd spend more time out there. I do plan to return for another visit, but until then, I have my fond memories. Look how green and beautiful! The first two are in Kennebunkport, Maine and the rest are from the farm where I stayed. The horse is just one of many in the Woodstock area.
Fires are raging all around our quiet little town on Flathead Lake, and it's difficult to hear about the loss of firefighters, grazing land, and homes. Glacier park has been hit by too much lightning, causing some closures. We've been blessed, thus far, not having a threat of fire touch us, and even though many of the affected towns aren't close and often separated by thousands or millions of acres, they are still our neighbors.
For many years, I've had this idea for a trilogy that has only so far seen notes and book cover drafts, but this fire season has had me thinking on it more, and I expect I'll be moving it up my project list.
I have whispers of many stories in my imagination, begging for their chance to be heard. I am slow to tell them these days, yet my fingers type and my mind whirs with fragments of tales waiting for me to put them together.