Artist in Residence 36 (I think): The Ebb of the Year

So. It’s the first day of the last month of 2021. How glad we all were to see the end of 2020 – the full flowering of the pandemic, the whole exhausting political cauldron of an Election Year (in the USA anyway – those of you from Elsewhere just get to read about it in the headlines, we live it…), the whole stressful kit and kaboodle, and 2021 was going to be better, wasn’t it? It had to be…

But so many things came home to roost in 2021. My particular year was devastating (but you know all about that) and the year isn’t over yet – there was a huge loss at the beginning of it and now my mom is entering hospice care and there may be another huge loss looming at the end of it, we don’t know, she has good days and bad days and it’s hard to tell where she’s at.All of this means mounds of paperwork, of racing hither and yon to talk to people or try and find out things or get her the care that she needs – although I did finally get her the first dose of teh vaccine somewhere in there at last – making sure she is OK, she is fed, she is in one piece (she fell in her bedroom a couple of weeks ago and was in enough pain to necessitate x rays – nothing broken thank god but these are the things that are an everyday worry and scrape. In between there were all the other things that needed doing. SOmehow there’s never enough time, I keep on having to move or cancel meetings or obligations because I can’t be in four different places and on the phone at the same time, I”m scatterbrained enough to begin with (they don’t call it widow brain for nothing) but juggling all this has made me insane… and now the neighbor down the hill basically came up to tell me to “deal with” a tree which is annoying him or dire cosequences will ensue…

I feel stretched and transparent, like I’m made out of fine gauze, if you look at me the right way you can see right through me. And I”m tired. So tired. They say there are two kinds of tired – the kind that is cured with a good sleep, and the kind that is only cured with peace of mind – and I’m both kinds of tired right now because I am sleeping badly and my life is exhausting to me in so many other ways.

I sold a story. There’s that. One story. And there’s the 20th Anniversary Edition of “Changer o fDays” that is out and that was going to be a joy to me… but I haven’t done nearly enough promo for it because I just simply do not have TIME OR ENERGY to devote to thinking about that, planning it, implementing plans, chasing things up. If anyone wants to read that thing and leave me a good write up somewhere or pass on word of mouth, please do. I would appreciate it.

But it’s the ebb of the year, of another year. Another clutch of weeks and we’re into 2022. And it’s going to be better, isn’t it? Better than 2021 was better?… Isn’t it…?


About Alma Alexander

Alma Alexander's life so far has prepared her very well for her chosen career. She was born in a country which no longer exists on the maps, has lived and worked in seven countries on four continents (and in cyberspace!), has climbed mountains, dived in coral reefs, flown small planes, swum with dolphins, touched two-thousand-year-old tiles in a gate out of Babylon. She is a novelist, anthologist and short story writer who currently shares her life between the Pacific Northwest of the USA (where she lives with her husband and two cats) and the wonderful fantasy worlds of her own imagination. You can find out more about Alma on her website (, her Facebook page (, on Twitter ( or at her Patreon page (


Artist in Residence 36 (I think): The Ebb of the Year — 2 Comments

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