... but I'm going to try anyway.
Since my nephew Brandon went missing, our family has been in the center of a whirlwind of shock, concern, dismay, media attention and controversy. It's not over by a long shot -- Brandon's parents will continue to push for an investigation of Brandon's online activities. They are convinced he is holed up somewhere, being told he's a "Pinball Wizard." Maybe his captors are telling him his parents hate him, don't want to talk to him. Maybe he wants to contact home, but he can't.
I refuse to believe he's hurt, abused or lying in a ditch somewhere. My mind cannot process that. I hold the same hope that authorities will flush out the people who lured him away with promises of money and status.
Old friends and new have dropped by to offer condolences, hope and prayers. I can't begin to express my gratitude.
In the meantime, I must tear myself away from obsessing over every breaking story. (Some online discussions infuriate me and I wish I could reach out through cyberspace and slap some of those people upside the head. They don't know this family. I do.)
Although I feel I'm in a holding pattern, I must go on with my life. I feel like I'm not allowed to laugh at a joke or smile at my colleagues. It feels strange.
This is a writing blog. I have to get back to the task at hand. While I pursue my latest career, a piece of myself will still hold vigil for Brandon. Until he is found, he will always be on my mind.
If I receive any breaking news, I will be sure to tell you right away.
Now, I'll try to change the subject...
Ravenous Romance has offered me a contract for The Toast Bitches. Those bitches (the characters, not the publisher) have been roaming around in my head for a long time, and it's time to unleash them on the world. I'll be busy cranking out a hot, sexy manuscript.
Sheesh. Wish me luck.