Over on my Patreon page, I’ve been providing semi-regular updates on how Mailboat VI is coming along.

The short answer? Slowly, but slowly.

Today, I wanted to share with you a version of some scrivenings that originally appeared on Patreon. I wanted to give you a picture of why the progress has been particularly slow.

But I want to start by saying: Y’all have been so patient! In the early days of my series, some over-eager fans used to harass me a li’l bit about book releases—even if I was putting them out as fast as I could.

That hasn’t been the case anymore. I think at this point, the readers still devoted to my series—and following me on my newsletter and socials—are in it for the long haul. You guys just love these books, and you’ll be here when the books are here.

From my heart, thank you.

I wanted to reward your patience and understanding with some insight into why Mailboat VI has been coming along so very slowly…

Looking back on the past year or so, at no point has my health been great. I’ve had migraines most of my life, but over the past couple of years, they’ve been getting worse and more frequent. Unfortunately, in terms of reclaimed productivity, the medications my doctors and I have been trying have resulted in a net loss.

This family of medications can have dramatically differing side effects. Personally, I morphed into a hibernating bear who could be toppled by a puff of wind.

In fact, the math on my productivity was horrific. Prior to seeking medical intervention, I was losing about thirty days out of every year to debilitating pain—which was bad enough.

With medication, I was losing roughly 130 days per year to sheer exhaustion—not counting the 30 days I’m still losing to some degree of pain, nausea, or exhaustion on migraine days.

That’s right. Despite the steep price I’ve been paying in energy, we still haven’t quite mastered the original problem.

So, if it seems like Mailboat VI is coming along slowly…

Yes.

Yes, it is.

This problem is compounded by having a business to run and bills to pay—meaning that what little energy I have is siphoned toward keeping those important elements sail-side-up (lest the entire ship go down).

As a person who exists to be creative, all this time spent not creating is discouraging. As often as I can, I steal a moment to write, to let my imagination out of this imposed cage—and I feel so happy, relaxed, and balanced.

A writer’s gotta write—ya know?

While I’m frustrated, my aim here is not to whine. It’s just to let y’all know what’s up, now that I have the perspective to realize what’s up.

When life throws you a problem, there’s that phase where you believe the first thing you’ll try will fix everything. And if you’re lucky, maybe it will!

But if you’re not lucky, you may find yourself in phase two, pushing through a tangled forest, still hoping the next thing will be THE thing, and you can get back to normal already.

But if not, you finally enter the third phase: Accepting that this tangled, tiring, disorienting forest may, in fact, be home for a while.

I may plop down in the middle of the path and take a minute to feel sorry for myself. (My partner Charles knows!)

But I’ve been through worse. I was abused for twenty-six years by my own mother and step-father, and was so isolated, I had no support system besides the characters who lived in my head.

And I got through.

Nothing life has thrown at me since then has been as bad.

Most importantly, I’m not alone anymore. I have actual people I can turn to for comfort, advice, and help. (Not that I don’t appreciate my imaginary people, who often continue to win MVP awards.)

But unlike those early, isolated days of my life, I can face-plant into Charles’ chest and tune out the pain. I can know that his mother—fifteen hundred miles away in Montana—probably knows that I have a migraine today (because Charles told her) and will probably call me tomorrow to see how I fared. I can commiserate with good friends—front-porch-rocker style—opining how sometimes the solution ain’t much better than the problem.

And, believe it or not, even you guys, my devoted fans, are sometimes a part of that support system, too. It means so much to be able to write out my experiences, share, and feel heard. No matter how or where you’re reading this, thank you for listening. The fact that you’re here, sharing space with me, is so meaningful.

I’m deeply cognizant that my being lost in this forest of elusive answers is inconvenient for other people. Charles, first and foremost as my partner, who has borne more share of the household burden than is his due. (It would be dang helpful if my imaginary people were less… imaginary… and could—I don’t know—run a load of dishes now and again.) Even Angel and Fergus are getting short shrifted, losing out on the level of walks and attention they’re used to. (I’m so sorry, my little kiddos. But thanks for all the cuddle time when Mama couldn’t do much else.)

I’m also aware that I don’t pursue my creative journey in a vacuum; that on and off, some thousands of people wonder why there hasn’t been another Mailboat release by now (and occasionally asking me through my socials.)

It’s one of the challenges of being a creator: Wanting to give to your community, but having to stop or slow down to take care of yourself. Often, you can’t even provide an explanation, either because you yourself aren’t sure what’s wrong, or how long it will last; or because it’s something you can’t or would rather not share with your fandom, either for your own privacy and safety, or that of someone close to you.

Most products—like cars or software or boxes of cereal—come out of factories or teams of developers. If one staff member becomes unavailable, other staff can help fill the gap, or new hires can be trained in.

It isn’t the same in the creative community. I’m not a factory. There is no one to take over product development and fabrication. If I shut down, the factory shuts down. Manufacturing stops, followed by packaging and distribution. All of a sudden, the customer base is no longer being served—and we run the risk of losing them altogether.

That’s part of what makes art so precious. There is no shortage of artists in the world, but none of us can manufacture each other’s art in quite the same way. We manifest inspirations and universal truths out of our own unique experiences and authenticity.

I hope these ramblings provide useful perspective on any creatives you may follow—whether authors, musicians, visual artists, etc. Generally speaking, we have an innate, burning desire to create and to share.

But when life hands us a challenging deck of cards—as it does at random—there is no one to take over the manufacturing. And due to the sense of disorientation that follows, or to the risks that are native to fame and the Internet, we can’t always provide an explanation.

So, thank you for your patience and understanding, both for myself and for other creatives you may support. We want nothing more than to share our imaginations with you; and for my part, I will continue to do so as much and as often as I can.

In between trying to find my way out of this forest…

While progress on Mailboat VI is slow, it is ticking forward. But I will keep you all updated along the way! I anticipate there will be eight to ten books in the series altogether, and I am so eager to write them all.

Thank you so much for listening. For being here with me. And above all, for your patience.

Happy sailing,
~ Danielle

P.S., if you want updates like this more often, I’m currently putting those on my Patreon page. The creation of every book is a unique journey, bringing its own highs and lows. It means so much to me to reveal what it’s really like to write a book—from research, to arguing with characters, to real-life problems fighting to keep me away from my pen.

You’re welcome to check us out and join us. We’d love to have you.

This Week’s Bestsellers: