I’m shocked to realize I haven’t posted here on Love Bytes since January. That’s half a year. How could this have happened? I miss deadlines and end up flaking on things I mean to do occasionally, and though I browbeat myself for it, in honesty (and this may be one of the most honest—and most personal—posts I’ve ever written) I probably don’t do it any more than the person standing next to me. If you never do, more power to you and you are a marvel of nature.

But half a year! “Wow,” Lou, I say to myself, “You set a new record.”

Reasons, though. (BTW, reasons are not excuses; this post isn’t about that.) It’s about the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly roadside attractions on this journey of mine through 2020’s first 6 months.)

Let’s start with the bad—if for no other reason than nobody ever starts in the middle. First in this category is that I’ve been plagued with indecision—and hand-in-hand with that, inaction—in terms of my writing career. At the beginning of the year I’d just about made up my mind to finish out my contracts and give up the game. Some of you know I also work as a free-lance editor, and as a first step in shutting down and moving away from the carnival the publishing industry seemed to be turning into, I shut down my website for that and completely stopped soliciting work in any way. I made plans to do other things—things I love that get put off all the time when I’m working in my chosen field, because between that and the demands of life-in-general, there’s never time. And I’m not young anymore, which means (honestly folks, you’ll see someday) I just don’t have the ability to pull those all nighters (and such). So yeah, I’d finish out my contracts and play my guitar, learn languages, conquer Adobe Photoshop (a longtime adversary), finish those years-old crochet projects, return to photography and art, travel, learn to weave.

I was epically disappointed in the books industry, particularly some components within it, and with the way the community of authors I’d known had morphed into something sprawling and at times quite selfish—or at least that’s the way it felt to me at the time. I love writing. It sustains me, but I felt paralyzed and unable to find my love of the process more often than not. I kind of felt like my career was a train going nowhere.

That’s bad, people, that’s all bad. There’s more in the ‘bad’ category, but it’s personal and for that reason, uninteresting to anybody but me, so let’s move on. There is good to come! But let me first visit “the ugly, part 1.”

Novel Coronavirus. COVID-19. Pandemic.

No, I didn’t get sick, and nobody in my family or close friends has, either, which fact belongs in the ‘good’ category, but I felt I’d better clarify here. Also belonging in the good category, I’m fortunate to live in Washington State: this may have been the site of the first-identified case in the US, but our governor and officials took action to keep us as safe as possible. But still. Pandemic = ugly. I’m sure you agree. I’m not going to go into details, because who wants to hear a diatribe. Suffice it to mention: home-schooling while having to jump through hoops for multiple teachers all doing things differently; pretty much stuck at home; drop in other income; complete upheaval in family routines; and I never got the damned stimulus check IRS says they mailed to me. And other stuff. And then, just when writing is almost possible, I’m struck hard with the desire to write.

Now the ugly, part 2.

Do I even have to say it? This is not the place for me to voice my opinions about the turn our society has taken, about the fiery lake we find ourselves trying to swim through, about the difficulty of keeping hold of a lifelong belief in the basic goodness of humanity. So I won’t. I will say only one thing, but believe me it represents a whole, giant cauldron full of burning issues. Black. Lives. Matter. And now I will say that yes, I’m vocal on social media about my position on issues. I’ve been told by many (most strenuously by my former publisher) that if I want to succeed as an author, I should keep quiet about politics and social issues on social media. Sorry. I can’t do that. I’m amazed at those who can and do. But for me this false dichotomy between writer-me and lives-in-the-world me just adds to the pressure-cooker feeling of life right now. Country, world, and society have all taken a turn for the dangerously ugly. It had to happen. It may be a birthing process after a centuries-long slow labor. It may yield beauty in the end. But it tries, as I said above, my cherished belief and trust in humanity, and if I lose that, I fear I would see only ugliness anywhere—

If it wasn’t for the good. Because that’s in the mix too.

Taking a step back early in the year did give me a chance to do some stuff: I bought a loom and have begun a journey toward being a weaver. I visited New Mexico, one of the places on my travel bucket list, and in doing so got to spend time with a very dear friend I had not seen for about fifteen years. And weirdly, though writing has been hard for me much of the time this year, I have written, I like what I’ve produced, I’ve had books published and look forward to more on the docket. I had two books nominated in Love Romance Cafe’s Best of 2019—good for my writerly heart, for sure. (Best GLBTQ+ book, A Shot at Living, #3 in the Vasquez Inc series; Best Book All-around, Vasquez and James Volume 1). Somehow, my determination to keep writing has also resurfaced, and I’ve begun to see some ways I can make what was starting to seem impossible actually work.

Cornonavirus gave me times with my family I wouldn’t have known otherwise, a chance to get even closer with the grandsons I’ve known and loved since the moment of their birth. It also yielded tons of deep, deep discounts on online courses that are usually vastly overpriced, and I am actually becoming a capable Photoshop user! And I’ve taken the time to add a little Duolingo back into my daily activities after a year or so of neglect. I’m progressing nicely, merci beaucoup, with my French. This is an important language for me (as is German, which is yet to come) because it was my dad’s, and it makes me feel as if he’s close despite no longer living in this world—and that is a big chunk of good, right there.

I’ve talked about the ugly, but both the pandemic and the socio-political meltdown of 2020’s first half have also revealed much beauty and good in the community of humankind. How wonderful that we are willing to give so others can live, that we are willing to accept difficult restrictions to cool the progress of a deadly infection, that some in positions as caregivers and medical personnel have been willing to sacrifice so much to try to keep the sick from suffering, from death, and the rest of us from exposure. And how heartening to see such a vast wave of support, a willingness to speak out, stand up, risk in the face of the rise of a wave of a horror that has for centuries moiled below a falsely calm surface, a violent greed—yes, at it’s heart racism is greed, fearful greed—a violent greed so contrary to goodness that it is almost indescribable. I salute and embrace everyone of my human family, and yes, I can still believe.
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Thank you for sticking with me through this post. If you did, and you’d like to know more about me or my books that have come out during 2020 (or before), check out my brief bio and links right here. If you’ve read this far and leave me a comment or email me and tell me about it, I’ll put your name in to send you a book. Not a contest, not a giveaway, just a plain old gift, but I can only afford to give away two.

Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other—and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman—a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder—of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader unfailingly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.

http://www.sylvre.rainbow-gate.com
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLouSylvre/
https://www.facebook.com/sylvrebarwellhoffmann/
I’m on twitter at (at) sylvre, easy to find, but I can’t put the link here or WordPress grabs all my tweets and shows them on Love Bytes. Some (a lot) of them are pretty political, but I do tweet about booksy things too.
(She’s on Instagram and Mewe too, once in a while, and she’s pretty sure she still has a tumblr, maybe even a Pinterest, but she neglects those badly. Don’t judge.)
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