I never really believed that trouble came in threes. After all it’s a superstition, and though I write speculative fiction, I myself am usually a skeptic. It’s almost as if I were from Missouri (the “show me” state). I mean, I want to believe, but often I just don’t. Too many things have logical answers.
And I’m sure the three things that happened, it’s likely coincidence. Yet, I still got threes.
At a Sci/Fi Fantasy convention, someone I trusted with everything did the one thing could break that trust. That was one. Two, a loved one tried to commit suicide. And three? Someone I love, and who is my best friend (though he’s in England) ended up with bad aspiration pneumonia and nearly died. All in a matter, of say, four days. Or less.
All I could do was stare at my own life, and wonder who was writing this? Was there a good reason to push the protagonist so far? Was there a lesson to be learned? Would it help later in the story? But the fact was, it was just real. Scary. Heartbreaking. And lonely.
My muse and I are now in negotiations to start writing again. To get the novel rolling, and done. To get the next one started. Maybe, to use some of the new, and still really raw pain and pour it onto the page, like one would oils onto canvas.
Only time will tell. But you don’t go through the shit in the world (not my first go-round, sadly) and come out the same. Everything changes, sometimes for the best, sometimes not. But…something is always learned. Whether we want it or not.