Originally sent via newsletter on June 1. Subscribe for the latest updates!

I was dragged through this month by my hair. I fought time tooth and nail, but it refused to stop. I’ve been stuck in a liminal space, between dreading what I knew would come and impatience to reach a finish line I’ve been working toward for the past year. 

It’s bittersweet to be on the other side of the thing I dreaded so much that my hair started turning gray (yes, I actually started growing gray hairs this month). There’s a relief that it’s over, paired with unfathomable sadness and disbelief that it’s actually over and there’s no going back. I tried holding on as long as I could, but now that I’ve let go and I’m free-falling to the bottom, there’s a part of me that wonders why I bothered fighting the inevitable in the first place.

This is all a convoluted way of saying I had to put my dog down last week after he was diagnosed with cancer two months ago. If you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know that I had a very special bond with my dog. I got him when I was 19 years old, freshly moved to a new city with no friends and no family. He was with me through some of the hardest years of my life, and also through some of the greatest adventures of my life so far. 

Having a dog and allowing yourself to love so greatly is such proof that love comes from some greater source than survival instinct or evolution. The moment you adopt a pet, you’re faced with their mortality. And yet, we still decide to give them our entire heart for no other reason than we just can’t help it. Rationally, it makes no sense. The rational thing would be to protect ourselves from the pain by never loving an animal. And yet, we do it over and over again. 

After ten years together, it started to feel like he would always be a part of my life, even though I knew it was impossible. My dread for the inevitable end that approached faster than I ever thought became a bloated anxiety that has made me absolutely sick these past couple of months.

Now I’m two weeks out from the release, the thing that has been filling me with dread is passed, and it feels like someone else’s book. Nothing about this release has gone to plan. I was going to do a whole campaign, get ARC readers, and be active on social media. But with the shock and dread at my dog being sick, I’ve barely been able to get through my “real” job, let alone be excited about my own project or put additional time and energy into self-promotion.

So, now here we are, June 1. 

Since my last update, my world has been flipped upside down, and I feel like a completely different person, and yet I still have a book releasing on June 16. 

Did I mention a date before? I don’t remember. 

A Song on Salt Air is releasing June 16, and it’s available for preorder everywhere now.

The timing is harsh, but at the same time, I’ve been working toward this for years. So even though it’s been hard to enjoy it, let’s share a moment of excitement and nerves.

At the same time, I’m about 20k words into my new secret project. I’m discovery writing, letting the story come to me as I write, and I’m holding nothing back. At the time of writing A Song on Salt Air, I was still very scared of stepping on the wrong toes, especially within the social constraints I used to live in. I was scared that if I wrote something too controversial to the moral system I was raised in, it would have social repercussions I wasn’t ready to face. Even with those constraints, I still took some risk, which I’m proud of. 

However, since removing myself from those social binds, I’m letting myself explore different themes and situations than I would have before. 

While A Song on Salt Air was all about reconciling the past and the present, this new project is all about letting go of shame and becoming something truer to yourself. Even though the stories and characters are completely independent of each other, there’s a continuation of growth. 

Art reflects life, and the more I dedicate to creating, the more it reflects my own story. 

A Song on Salt Air takes place in a coastal town, very much so inspired by the town I spent my years up until age 19. 

My new project takes place in an Appalachian mountain town, a setting that’s become like a new home for me. 

Getting to explore these places and people is such a privilege. So often, environments shape who we become. By taking intimate knowledge of that environment, what it’s like to live there, and the people within it, and turning it into a story, I feel like I’m able to see myself more clearly and how my environments have shaped who I’ve become today. 

Next time we talk, you might have a copy of A Song on Salt Air on your shelf. I hope it transports you somewhere else for a little while. I hope it makes you wonder what it all means and if it’s worth it. I hope the story sticks with you. 

Talk next month,

Autumn