I rediscover the fluidity of time with every book I write. A few minutes of research turns into a lost hour. A day vanishes in a quick paragraph. Afternoons compress into moments that elapse so quickly that I forget my own name, much less that my children are waiting for a ride. It’s especially bad when I’m working on a historical novel. Making the switch between past and present does something to my brain so that I can barely keep track of the year, much less the day. Someone talking about current events is likely to be met with a blank stare or a response more appropriate to another century. I’ve been known to forget doctor’s appointments and even impending visits from my in-laws, despite reminder calls and computer alarms.
My poor family is in for a long run of forgetfulness accompanied by burned dinners and dead houseplants. Taking place some thirty years after the Norman invasion of England, Immortal Warrior is the first in an extended series that follows a crew of Viking raiders as they try to break the curse that binds them. Each book will take place in a different century, with all the attendant research.
I’ll write more about the books later, but as I noted yesterday, right now I’m in the final pains of birthing this one and can’t quite figure out what a computer is doing in the scriptorium. Be patient, and if I don’t turn up in a couple of days, look for me in the woods west of Alnwick, in Northumberland.
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