AJ Alanson Author

I reached my max couped-up, quarantined, sniffing, coughing, sneezing, all-of-January isolation, and ran out into the world. Okay, I stayed on the property but it’s drizzly, foggy, frizzling kind of weather any sane person would avoid and stay indoors. And yet, it was restorative…if damp.

I’ve written on the 10th book in The Admiral series throughout this quademic of attacks on my immune system, but in reading my chapters aloud a few minutes ago, I’ll need to really work on those. Get the story out first, that’s my process. When my rewriter brain takes over, I can fix anything. Then the editor. Then the publisher. Then the marketer.

That said, my manager said to go back to bed. I’m writing bad stuff, taking long walks in the freezing rain, and falling asleep on my keyboardddddddd. But I haven’t been entirely wasting time. Through blurry eyes, I’ve been taking in movies and shows from around the world, diagraming plots, and making notes. I’ve been sitting through lectures on my craft or brushing up on the research for upcoming novels. And I’ve been studying the world around me – the real one – not the one in my head, and definitely not the one in the socials. And that’s when, on my ill-advised walk, I came across the slow death of a tree and yet, it was beautiful.