What if this is it?

ending ten months of silence

Two days ago, I finished the last chapter of a new novel.

Completing a story has happened before — but not like this. About two-thirds into the book, the writing suddenly stalled. One word to the next, a question came up I couldn’t answer. That silence lasted ten months.

I felt I had lost the words. Lost the plot that had come crashing in. Some days I wondered if I ever would publish anything again. Why bother, in a world gone raving mad.

A lot has happened in my life since. My dad died. I moved house, switching countries again. I turned sixty. My child found an amazing school after eight years of non-schooling. And we live permanently on a camping-site, unwelcome at several levels in the country I was born in. But hey, it’s not as bad as the larger event-mill releases on a daily basis.

Then I wondered, what if this was it? That what I had written would be what I had to say. Not a good feeling.

After a while a new sentiment emerged from that sad thought. Maybe, Bertus, you have nothing to lose by at least trying to bring all of your experience together in one more attempt. Written as if it were the very last chance to say it.

That triggered something very moving.

I thought the book I was writing, would be about a dam project gone wrong. And it is. That’s what it starts with. Not where it was heading. I thought I knew how it would unfold, but I didn’t have a clue it turns out. It was all there, in the first sixty chapters. I hardly changed a thing in there. But somehow I had stopped listening halfway in.

I think that is why the story-tap was shut. I needed to find my way back to listening.

I did. A month ago. And the last forty chapters gushed out. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. Things fell into place and threads ended up exactly where they needed to be. What a beautiful thing to witness, to be part of. And I am dead curious if others will experience something similar reading it.

I am still editing, doing the artwork for it, and preparing publication here on substack. But the silence is over. Glad to be back, and thank you for your patience.

I also rediscovered linocutting. And have started working on a wonderful co-creation with

Jenna Newell Hiott