H&M shirt
Wilfred dress (similar)
By Mumico espadrilles
Ellen James handbag
RayBan sunglasses
Mejuri bracelet (c/o) (similar)
Maris Pearl Co. earrings (similar)
Location: Academy of Athens – Athens, Greece
This week, I gave final approval on the cover art for my latest novel, the last in a three-part series. The final draft will submitted this weekend for preliminary printing. When I get it back, I’ll do another revision, by hand, to capture any corrections I didn’t see in the thousand reviews I did on my laptop. And then, finally, it will be time for publication.
So this is the beginning of the end of an era.
When I was in tenth grade, I treated myself to a beautiful red and gold spiral bound notebook. It was of premium quality. Well, okay, that’s pushing it; after all, it came from Wal-Mart, like all my other notebooks. But it was a splurge for me, which is to say it cost about five dollars. It was nothing like the coiled Hilroy notebooks I usually scribbled in; it wasn’t just lovely, it was special, a treat to write in. I started dozens of projects in it, ultimately leaving all of them unfinished. I intended to do the same with a story about two characters named Ilari and Genevra.
Unexpectedly, during a free period at school, a friend picked up that notebook, reading the few pages I’d penned about Ilari and Gen. And then, to my complete surprise, she demanded more. I think that was the first time that anyone took a genuine interest in my writing. I was flattered – so I pressed on, never imagining that I would ultimately spend the next two decades with those characters, changing one of their names and building them a whole world.
I’ve told that story before, I’m sure. Probably several times by now. But it’s one I never get tired of, and one I’ll continue to repeat, because it serves as such a wonderful reminder of the unexpected turns life can take. You never know when a single small, seemingly insignificant choice can irrevocably change the rest of your life. Ilari and Genevra were, at the time they came into my head, borne of boredom. They were the work of evening spent pretending to do homework to escape a tedious extended family meal, like so many characters who came before and after them. Unexpectedly, they’ve become my life’s work so far, and been my constant companions for more than twenty years. It was nothing, really, to write those first few lines about them – but it became everything.
So if I call this the end of an era, that’s because it’s how it feels. These books, and the characters whose stories they tell, have been part of the fabric of my existence for so long that I scarcely remember a life before they came along. At times, I’ve wondered if I’ll miss them, and Amaia, when I close the final chapter on their lives. But I also know that their story is over now, that there isn’t more to tell. Which means the part of my life with them in it is over, too.
…and while this may be the end of an era, I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I’m looking forward to what comes next.
