There is always a certain element of chaos in the
house. That’s the nature of juggling anything, though. It’s a balancing act,
but one where you sometimes have very little control of just what you’re trying
to juggle. I usually tend to liken it to a scenario where each item or task is
a ball or a pin. If I’m lucky, I can move them up and down with enough
breathing space to get by. But then I get cocky, and before long I’ve added a
few pins too many, or I’m juggling too quickly, or one of them is on fire and
I’m suddenly on a tightrope.
And then I have to let some of these things go,
which can be hard. But better that then to do too much and drop *everything*
We’re a household of creatives which I think lends
itself to a certain amount of craziness anyway. We’re all of us musicians of
one level or another. We all play the piano. Some of us sing. I write. I sew. I
collect ridiculous things and learn Japanese when I can. My husband has a side
gig as a photographer. My daughter writes and is an artist. My son writes and
performs in musical theatre.
And yet, though there is almost always music of some
sort playing in the house, most of these hobbies of ours are solitary in nature
and it’s not rare for all of us to be working on these things at the same time
in rhythmic quiet.
Or so I’d like to say. That’s a romantic picture
that looks good on paper, but the reality is far less impressive.
My standard week is working at my full time job,
shuttling kids to horseback lessons, rehearsal, soccer practice, music lessons,
walking the dog, trying to cook dinner. Those are my usual pins. Things that
have to happen.
Anything after that is going to be on fire. Doctor
appointments, car repairs, paying bills.
Cleaning the house is the pin I drop the most. In
the end, there will always be more dog hair.
In my younger days, I would burn the midnight oil on
a regular basis. Do all the daytime things, get the kids to bed, try to write
until the wee hours.
These days I can’t do that. For one thing, my kids
are older now –and while they’re way more self-sufficient, there’s no tucking
them into bed and ducking out for several hours of peace and quiet. We’ve also
added an exchange student to the family this year and that has its own
challenges. So I try to do my writing first thing in the morning.
I have to get up early anyway, and I’ve found it’s
much easier to snatch an hour or so of relative quiet between getting them out
the door to school and before my workday begins. Is it good writing? Not
really. But I’ve always been a terrible draft writer – the editing is where I
tend to flesh things out.
Now, I do work from home, so that does make it
easier as far as the juggling is concerned. I no longer have to deal with a
commute, so I save myself some time and gas and overall stress. However, the
main reason for that is due to several chronic health conditions that usually
ensure I’m in some sort of pain all day, every day.
It is what it is and I do my best to work around it
and when I hit a day where I can’t, well, I just chuck the pins out the window
and give myself a chance to catch my breath. I refuse to feel guilty about it.
But writing-wise, I’ve found if I can knock out
those words early on a given day, then I’m less stressed. I’m not constantly
fretting over when I’m going to find time to write or beating myself up in the
evenings because I’m just too exhausted. I can work with a clear mind and
anything else that comes my way is fine because I’ve already met my word count.
Now, do I write every day? I write during the work
week if I have a reason to do so. I take the weekends off to rest and catch up
on my other pursuits. Editing if I’m not writing, or working on my web comic.
Sewing. Cleaning if I feel like it. Catching up on Netflix. Ignoring social
media utterly.
Because sometimes juggling is about knowing when to
put those pins down, too.
A Symphony of Starlight
Abby Sinclair
Book Four
Allison Pang
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Date of Publication: 10/8/2019Abby Sinclair
Book Four
Allison Pang
Genre: Urban Fantasy
ISBN: 978-0-9985343-4-3
ASIN: B07YDZFDFV
Number of pages: 304
Word Count: 97k
Cover Artist: Ravven
Tagline: Sometimes you have to go to Hell to give the Devil His due…
Book Description:
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions . . . and sometimes unicorn puke.
In the span of a few months, mortal TouchStone Abby Sinclair has been trapped in a painting, had her memories stolen, and been Tithed to Hell, killed, and brought back to life by the OtherFolk. Now she’s pregnant and torn between her incubus lover, Brystion, and her elven king of a husband, Talivar. Otherworldly love triangles notwithstanding, she’s more than content to set the political drama of magic and mayhem aside and quietly settle into motherhood. But nothing is ever that easy . . .
Years ago, Abby’s best friend, Melanie St. James, virtuoso violinist and DoorMaker to the CrossRoads, lost her soul to the Devil in return for an enchanted violin. Now the magic of her violin is fading, and the Devil is calling in her debt to serve Him as His TouchStone. In an effort to escape the terms of this reckless bargain, she flees to the CrossRoads with her lover, Nobu.
But reneging on a deal with the Devil isn’t the wisest of moves, especially when He knows Abby is the only one who can bring Him what He wants. And when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Abby and her friends to find a way to stop the violin from consuming Melanie’s soul before it’s too late, even if the journey takes them straight into Hell itself.
eBook On Sale for .99
Excerpt:
“Well, I’m running out of ideas.
What about the thread?” I asked Kitsune. “You gave me a spool of red thread
once to help me find Talivar or my destiny or something like that.”
Ion
and Talivar blinked at me. “Destiny, is it?” Talivar said wryly.
“It
led me to the tent with your horses,” I explained. “I’m not sure it worked the
way it was supposed to, but you did show up afterward, so who knows?”
Kitsune
brightened. “Ah yes. The red thread of Fate. A useful spell at times, though I
don’t know if it will work for us here. Depends on how entwined you and Melanie
are. It might not even lead you through the Gate at all.”
She
paced, her fur seeming to shimmer slightly, and then one of her tails somehow
plucked a spool from the air and deposited it at my feet. I picked it up,
Brystion craning to see it curiously.
“And
what is that all about?” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the way it feels.”
Kitsune
cackled. “Mortals are bound by Fate more so than OtherFolk. It’s often wrapped
so tightly around them they don’t even notice it. You were never one for such
things, aye?”
He
grunted at her and rolled his eyes. For a heartbeat, I could see his natural
form, the dark skin, the antlers, the hooves . . . the bells braided in his
hair with red thread. My mouth quirked, but I said nothing. Perhaps the incubus
was bound more by Fate than he liked.
I
rolled the spool in my hands, taking one end of the thread. It shivered between
my fingers, almost like touching a live wire, jolts of power zipping beneath my
skin.
“Focus,”
Kitsune snapped. “What is it you really want? Where do you want to go?”
I
shut my eyes. Melanie, I thought. I need to find her. I need to fix this. I
need to save her.
The
thoughts repeated over and over in my head, and as before, the spool jumped
from my hand and rolled across the ground toward the Gate. Talivar skirted out
of the way as it hurtled toward him, swearing softly.
The
Gate lit up in an instant, the spool shunting through and disappearing in a
splash of silver and gold, the red thread trailing like a tail behind it.
The
fox limped over to the Gate, sniffing at the corner. The corruption on her side
grew more pronounced, but her three tails lashed wildly, coating her fur with a
silver light. “Abby! Let’s go! Before it closes!”
She
shifted slightly, her paws becoming humanoid, and she snatched at the hand
holding the thread and pulled me hard, the pair of us tumbling through the
Gate. “Wait!” We swept through the entrance, but my voice was enveloped in some
sort of film, a quiet I couldn’t seem to break through.
I
reached for the others, but it was as though I was looking through water, a
barrier stretched between us that I couldn’t quite reach.
The
thread. I clenched my fist. I was still holding the goddamned thread. What
happens when the thread keeping the Gate open goes through, Abby? What?
“It
fucking closes,” I said. “That’s what.”
I
struggled against Kitsune’s clawed grip. “We have to go back . . . The others .
. .”
“There
is no time.” Her voice was hollow and empty as she staggered beside me. Her
tails dragged limply across the ground, the dark magic beginning to move along
her fur again. “Must make it . . . Inari.”
And
then she was tumbling forward, the track we were on abruptly disintegrating
beneath our feet. I snatched at her, and the two of us fell, fell, fell, the
red thread wrapping around us.
About the Author:
Allison is the author of the Urban Fantasy Abby Sinclair series, the IronHeart Chronicles and the writer for the webcomic Fox and Willow. She likes LEGOS, elves, LEGO elves…and bacon.
She spends her days in Northern Virginia working as a cube grunt and her nights waiting on her kids, cat, and an obnoxious northern breed dog, punctuated by the occasional husbandly serenade. Sometimes she even manages to write. Mostly she just makes it up as she goes.
1 comment:
I got to read this for review and it's awesome. I even suggested my niece to read it. Allison knows there is one scene in the book that is my fav!
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