It is actually kind of strange to be on the verge of a new release after the last couple years… Crap. One of the things that someone struggles with following rapid succession of surgeries is how much it steals the way your brain. And since this roller coaster of the journey isn’t done yet, it’s going to be continuous fights but hopefully when I can succeed at.

It always amuses me to hear people talk about how much they enjoy writing because I don’t really enjoy it per se. It’s not like sitting down with a cup of coffee and listening to the rain. But there is a lot of satisfaction when the words fall into place at least close to what I imagine the scene is in my mind and getting the chain of events that leads to impactful scenes or even the end of the book is a kind of joy in a way.

When I write I usually start off with either a premise or a situation that comes to mind involving existing characters or the framework of a new character sort of emerges out of the goop in my brain. At the technical term by the way — goop. It always feels like sourdough bread with too much liquid in it because everything is sticky and you can’t get it off your fingers but eventually it does become something and that’s because you’ve added more substance to it. I am not a good baker. Baking is much more of a science than an art and while you can do variations with it you have to really know the limitations and how far you can push that science. Cooking is much more forgiving and in a lot of ways it is actually worse because taste is subjective.

I can say this with confidence because there is a continuous battle between The Five about arugula and whether or not it should be eaten. I happen to be a fan of arugula. Others, not so much. Keep in mind I also like canned peas and mayonnaise so we all have our culinary burdens to bear.

I am mostly hoping that Port in a Storm does well but mostly I hope that everyone who has ever brushed up against the foster care system finds it speaks to them on some level or that they see echoes of their own experiences. In a lot of ways it’s like having survived the horrors of some psychological or even physical war that no one else in the world but there are other participants who bear the same scars on their bodies and minds. In a lot of ways this is two books — on one level written for those who are Tate and Forest and on another those who are Connor. I would love for everyone to have grown up in a Morgan household but I knew from experience that is not the case. I also know it is a struggle sometimes to survive a childhood that seems impossible to live through and I wanted to write something where there is hope and depicts the family love for a child not born to its cradle.

At one point in my life I was told that nobody really wants somebody else’s child and I am going to have to agree with that because the instances are few and far between and you are trapped in the tentacles of the eldritch monster that is the foster care system or child protective services. I have long questioned the intelligence of taking children away from parents who are struggling financially and then giving those kids to people who then receive financial support to house those children. I also wonder where people who fight so hard to take away a woman’s right to choose are after an unwanted child is born and there is no food or shelter or resources to feed it and raise it into a healthy human being. I would want that for any child regardless of its situation. And if someone is able to take in the child and love it… nurture it… and create a person to contribute to life in some way then I am all for that as well.

But then again I’m pretty sure that if you read my books, you already know where I stand socially. Children in their lives should not be a political piece on some gameboard but often times they are because they have no rights and many don’t make it to adulthood intact.

Writing Port in a Storm was both cathartic and a sticky mess. So I guess the best thing that we all can do is to speak kindly to yourself and be gentle with the wounds that you carry. Some days won’t be easy — I know that. Trust me. There are a lot of days when I’m like what the fuck is going on and why am I here?

On those days is when you need that cup of coffee or tea and if it isn’t raining where you are then maybe find some rain sounds to listen to and give yourself a few moments. You deserve that. I promise, you deserve that.