Another Birth

In the arts, the creation of something new is often a long series of work days interspersed with moments of joy. The hands develop pains you never knew you had, your spine becomes permanently bent like a musical clef, eyes fluctuate between the redness of an addict to the owlishness loss of pupils. You eat too much, you eat too little. You ignore things that would drive anyone crazy, and are instantly irritated by things sane people find perfectly acceptable.

But in between all of that are the times when the brush stroke lights perfectly on the canvas, when the word you've been laboring over for days appears in spam email causing much rejoicing, when the fingers caress the piano keys with the exact tempo after practicing a piece a thousand times. These are the moments of grace that keep the artist working.

I don't know that anyone can say with any certainty why artists do what they do, why they are pushed to their craft. But what they are doing is taking something from within them and recreating portions of themselves in the world. It is, in its own unique way, giving life.

Today I have finished a new project that took a great deal of energy. I've had this idea running around like a pestering child in my head for the past 5-odd years. After the successes of 2007, I decided to finally put the child out of my mind and onto the page. Thus, I welcome into the world my newest novel, 'November's Lord', a dark tale set in a dystopian future where perfection is only a credit card away, but freedom is not for sale.

Light a cigar, its a book!

- C