The Writing Process


Hello everyone!

Yes, I did make it back from England, safe and sound. And I will soon update you on my final days in that glorious country. For now though, I wanted to let you know that my silence has not been in vain and that I have not been idle these past weeks – at least, not completely.

As you may (or may not) be aware, I’ve been in the process of completing my first novel, currently titled Sigyn’s Saga: Burdened with Love. It’s the untold story of the wife of the trickster god, Loki and how she feels as her life unfolds along the journey from young woman to wife to mother.

It started years ago as a whim that turned into about a hundred and fifty pages of a third person narrative. Then I realised Sigyn really needed to tell her story, and last year I joined a creative writing class that made me evaluate just how serious this had become.

Thousands of words and hundreds of pages later, I can now say that the first draft is finally finished!

Of course, the book itself is far from ready for print. There still lays before me hundreds of hours of editing, but I’ve already gotten a head start on that, thanks to my faithful writing group. I’ve also given myself a deadline. Once myself and my group have deemed it fit for publication, it will start its journey to all the agents and publishers that I can track down. But if no one shows any interest in about a year, I’ll be going the self-publishing route. I have lots more stories holed away up here, and I think Sigyn’s story is too exciting not to share!

In the meantime, enjoy this little preview from Chapter 1 and share your thoughts/comments below:

I only heard my own staccato footsteps tapping down the marble stairs and the words I whispered under my breath, “Please, be here. Please, still be here.”

I let my feet guide me along what I thought to be the most likely route, but I ran into no one else, not even a guard or maid about their duties. My shoulders slumped, and I slowed my pace before coming to a stop. Perhaps what I had seen was only the projections of my hopes rather than what was there. I moved with unconscious, ghosting rhythm to twist the band on my arm, before glancing around to see where I was in the palace.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the door before me. I pushed it open, stepping inside, with slow, cautious steps, as though my presence might disturb the ghosts residing inside. Thick, velvet dust had settled over the eight little desks spread out in the schoolroom; they had not been in use since their owners abandoned them so many years ago.

I walked through, smiling as I imagined all of our past selves, on the long afternoons of schooling. I could see Thor and Ari tossing paper air boats at each other across the room, and Sif’s legs dangling from her chair because they were never long enough to reach the floor. When I reached the front of the room, I paused. The two desks here were pushed as close together as Father would allow. My fingers traced the letters carved in the upper corner of one of the desks: L&S. His mother berated him for ruining an expensive pen nib, but he insisted, with his widest smile, that it was worth it.

I covered the initials with my palm and closed my eyes. “Oh, Loki, please,” I whispered. “Remember me. Find me.”

Silence reigned for a few more moments. I sighed and was about to turn back to the door, when I heard it squeak open on its hinges. Then, in a voice trembling with the same fear and trepidation that I felt in my own heart, I heard my name.


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