There’s not always an HEA

I’m in the midst of a mid-year funk. I had all kinds of plans for this holiday. After all, my neighborhood has a holiday festival, and Chicago has the Taste of Chicago, and Milwaukee has Summerfest and I’m right in the middle of it all. So my plans included rotating between all three events. Instead, I really fear I won’t get to either.

Some of it’s my daughter. She’s bipolar, twenty, and left home to live with a set of less than reputable friends two years ago. Recently she had a pregnancy scare that turned out to be an STD. I’ve decided to be hard on this. She’s had a hospitalization which I’ll have to pay for, and she needs money and I’m going to say no. Unless she agrees to come home, get back into therapy and medication, and get a job. I don’t know whether I’m more worried she’ll say yes or no. Either way it makes it difficult for me to think about festivals and fun right about now.

As for writing stories with a Happily Ever After – that’s a little difficult right now, too. But its my self-appointed job, so I’m going back to work editing The Last Logan, my Romantic Suspense. There, at least, I get to kill people with a clear conscience. And still arrange for the good guys to find love and happiness.

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