Where the Hell Have I Been? (The Short Version: Life Punched Me in the Face)

So… it’s been a minute.

If you’ve been wondering where I disappeared to, why I haven’t published anything new in years, or if I got eaten by one of my own monsters— thank you for noticing, and no, I’m not dead. I’ve just been… living. And not the fun, sexy, supernatural kind of living. The real-life-will-break-your-heart-and-stomp-on-your-brain kind.

Let’s unpack, shall we?

🧠 First: ADD, My Eternal Frenemy

I’ve always known I had ADD (like ADHD but without the hyperactivity, which is… good, I guess?) — the real kind, not the “oh no I got distracted by TikTok” kind. The “I wrote 30,000 words of a book and then forgot it existed because I was hyperfocused on re-organizing my spice rack” kind. The “every writing session starts with an existential crisis and ends with a YouTube spiral about Viking metallurgy” kind.

Managing a creative career with ADD is like trying to herd caffeinated cats through a china shop. You love them, but they’re going to ruin everything on the way through. Wait, where was I?

So yes — focus, motivation, and executive function were already slippery before the rest of my life exploded.

And then it did.

👶 Second: I Grew Two Entire Humans

Last October, I gave birth to twin boys. Yes, twins. Two babies. At once. Inside me. At the same time.

(That sentence still feels illegal to type.)

Motherhood is wild, beautiful, and slightly unhinged. Sleep? Who is she? My brain and I have entered a new phase of existence. There are entire hours of the day where I have no idea what year it is.

And even though I love my tiny goblins with my whole soul, writing — especially the kind that requires emotional depth, trauma arcs, and metaphorical monster sex — had to wait.

Because some days, I’m lucky if I get to pee alone. Or, you know, pee at all without making it an emergency stop…

💔 Third: The Worst Thing

At the beginning of this year, my boyfriend — my partner of five years — was diagnosed with cancer. It came out of nowhere. It moved fast; one day we had the diagnosis, and the next day he was terminal and unable to leave the hospital anymore. And less than 4 weeks later, just like that, he was gone.

There aren’t really words for what it’s like to lose the person you were building your life with. There’s no metaphor or punchline I can put here that makes it digestible. No philosophical blah blah that would make it more palatable.

He was the first person to believe in me. He knew all of my secrets, even the embarrassing ones. He was there for me in his own, quiet, darkly humorous way and with all his quirky interests and stories. He hugged his kids every day, fed them at night, made sure they slept comfortably, soothed them when they cried… And then he wasn’t here anymore.

And honestly? That shattered me.

Writing romance — writing love — while my own was ripped away felt impossible. It still does, almost all days. But I’m learning to carry the grief and the stories at the same time. I’m not good at it yet, don’t get me wrong. That’ll take some more time. Just know that I am working on it.

❤️‍🔥 So What Now?

I’m still here. I’m still writing. Slowly, tenderly, in weird little windows of time between diaper changes and grief spirals and ADD episodes (and inevitable bouts of depression). The stories are still inside me. And they’re clawing their way out, one stubborn sentence at a time.

I can’t promise release dates or strict schedules right now — but I can promise that I haven’t quit. I haven’t forgotten you. And when the next book is ready, it’ll be written with every bit of chaos, heartache, and dark humor that’s gotten me through.

Thanks for sticking around. For reading this. For being here.

I’ll be back. Not on schedule. But definitely with vengeance.

And probably a vampire or two.

~ Hannah