I’m working on Corpselight, the sequel to Vigil (out in July this year!), right now. All in the interests of making my hand-in deadline and not having to tell my beloved publisher than a dog ate my homework.
Sometimes you use your writing to talk to the people in your life whom you love, but who are in a bad place at the moment. They’ll hear eventually.
Here’s a wee snippet:
‘They told me your father was no good, that he’d lead me to a bad end ? and they were right, but who can see that when you’re young and think you’re in love? When you’re so drunk on that other person that you don’t notice what’s in front of you even though all you’ve got to do is look; you let them make a fool of you. You make a fool of yourself because you think this person, who doesn’t care about you, treats you like a convenience, is what love’s all about. You’re terrified the love will be taken away, that you’ll never get it back.’ She laughed and it wasn’t entirely a bitter thing. ‘You think that the love you get is all there is in the world, even if it’s just a tiny scrap, that it’s the only amount allotted to you and if you don’t do everything to keep it, accept every insult, every indignity, then you’ll never love or be loved again.’ She smiled. ‘It’s not true, you know.’