I never imagined I’d live through a real pandemic. It’s been strange, surreal, stressful, heartbreaking, scary, hopeful.

From the lockdowns to the quarantines and the awful news coming from many corners of the world. To the hope and now the much needed social protests the globe is seeing, one can say 2020 is one for the books—both for the bad and the hopeful good.

I’ve been away because, well, who hasn’t? But I’ve remained relatively productive writing-wise. I did a swap for my sci-fi book, which I finally feel ready and eager to edit again before getting back to the query trenches. I’m about to finalize my fantasy draft, which fills me with joy. And I can’t wait to dip back into my contemporary book, about which I always think, especially in these times of self-isolation, since that book is inspired by some of the stories and moments I witnesses, and a few I lived.

Through everything, my stories have kept me happy and enthusiastic. I can’t shake the feeling that writing is as taxing as it is liberating, and that art is what ultimately shields us from the darkness in the world.

To books, and to a productive June.