At age eighty-six, I find I'm slowing down. The past two years were hectic ones for me. Two years in a row, I wrote two books simultaneously--in one case, the first book in a new series--while editing five or six books that were rereleased. Of course each book required promotion via guest blogs, interviews, podcasts and author takeovers. Certainly a wonderful time in an author's career, but at times I felt overwhelmed.
These days I no longer drive long distances or travel abroad. Though I continue to take three or four exercise classes a week, I need to rest briefly after every activity. Writing-wise, I'm happy to be writing one book and editing another. Oddly enough, my daily work output hasn't diminished, but then I was always happy if I wrote two or three pages a day. I've cut down on many of my writerly activities. After getting COVID at the last two conferences I attended, I no longer attend conferences. I sorely miss getting together with my writer friends in person, but my health demands that I limit events to those close to home.
I continue to do Zooming events, as well as social media interviews and author takeovers, and in this way stay in touch with readers and the writing world. Even so, I'm learning to pace myself and to not over-schedule events because my energy level is not what it was.
I suppose there will come a time when I can no longer write mysteries and books for kids. But until that day arrives, I'll keep on plotting scenes in my head.
