Author's Note

Contrition and Self-Loathing

Well, I imagine that you all are none too happy with me. Yes, quite understandable. It's been – er – quite some time, hasn't it, my faithful readers? My last update was somewhere around January 16th . . . of '06. Tis now July 15th . . . of '07. Took me rather a long time to get my act together, didn't it?

Well, once again, you lot are going to have to go through that whole process again. My apologies . . . again. I have further developed my writing style and skill, so you're going to have to get used to it. You'll have observed three rather abrupt shifts with me, all together. You witnessed my 8th grade writing style for my story (Oh, how I long for the simplicity that was middle school); you caught mere glimpses of my sophomore fashion in my disclaimers and author's notes; and now, dear readers, you shall see the methods to my madness as a senior. I seem to rather fancy two-year jumps, don't I? I dearly hope that I have improved.

I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I received a rather nasty flame from someone, and my flame of inspiration was suddenly and unforeseeably snuffed. I had no desire to continue the telling that I had labored over for so long. Despite the many encouraging words from my kind readers, I resolved to end my updates. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to post it as discontinued. For that would mean that I had truly given up, that someone out there with a sharp tongue had got the better of me. And everyone would know it. I'm a very poor loser, you see.

And so it sat, cold, alone, abandoned, gathering cyber-dust in the public's archive that is simply taking up space. I never quite forgot about it; but it sat in the back of my mind, along with all my ideas. I refused to acknowledge it. Occasionally – as unwanted thoughts and subjects are wont to do – it would creep up on me, and I would have a flash of inspiration. However, it would vanish almost as suddenly as it had come; and it, too, would be pushed into that untouched chamber of my mind. And it was always quite awkward when this story would crop up in my conversations at school with my friends. I was ashamed that I had done what I despise. I had started a story . . . and had deserted it. It's different for all the other authors who do it. I can pout and fume all I want about a discontinued story of someone else's, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't know why they stopped writing. But me . . . I know exactly why I stopped writing. Oh what a hypocrite I was.

And then today, on pure whim, I visited my story. After reading some of those old, silly disclaimers and author's notes, I went on to reread all of the reviews. They triggered something, some new life inside that has been in a deep slumber for quite some time. I hope you'll be happy to hear that my metaphorical candle of inspiration has been lit once again. And it is so because of you all.

For some reason, I stopped receiving any of the reviews you posted, so I was unaware that any of you were still requesting updates. An unhappy twist of fate. Had I known, I might have been quicker to return.

As things stand, I have only a small portion of chapter eleven written. And, as the seventh and final book of the real series débuts this very Saturday, I'll be a bit preoccupied with it. I'm sure all of you, of anyone, will understand that. However, I make a promise to you all that I will continue my story, and I will finish it. You can hold me to that.

Talicr