The Bare Bones of Winter

The cold skin of the Bone Mother lays waste across my part of the world once again. It is cold, bare, stark, and real. I love the bare bones of winter, and the harshness offers opportunity for internal reflection. This is why it is so fitting that I am starting a new novel at this time of year. The Book of Life is a raw inquiry into life, death, reality, and grief. It's a challenge to write, and close to the bone for me. But that stark scape lends a clear vision. There's no lush greenery to hide behind; no flowers to smell, no heat to wrap the skin in.
All is laid bare.
To see and be seen.
And so these winter months will see the birth of The Book of Life.

The Dark Space Between...
is finally complete pre-edits and I pray journeys well. The ice world of Svalbard, and the post-Crystalline age of England posits many a gap to brave.
For those who remain.

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