Far from being done with me, in the fourteen years since it first returned, the idiot cancer has come back and back and back. Ten times? Twelve? I’ve lost count. I’ve had a year off here, a year and a half there, once even two years whole years. But always it comes again. A tumor here. A tumor there. A dissolving bone. A distended gut. A battered brain.
For twenty years I’ve seen announcement after announcement of a “breakthrough discovery” for a new treatment, but so far as I’ve seen they are all last heard of as “being developed” and then disappear from view without a trace. For several years I had some luck with aromatase inhibitor drugs, but one and all they have given me life-trashing collateral damage. (I scorn the euphemism “side effects” with bitterness and distain. They aren’t like “side dishes” on a menu, a matter of choice. They’re part and parcel of the drug.) Worst of this damage has been further, accumulating brain damage (seemingly deemed irrelevant by many oncologists, whose primary concern appears to be defeating the cancer, even if it means the treatment kills you before the cancer can) so that creative writing has become harder and harder.
And I’m afraid that apologies are due to all my readers and to many of you who’ve written to me through the years. I know I’ve too often been behindhand in answering letters and emails, and far too often have never answered at all. Much has depended on where I was in the cycling of cancer through my life, and how much energy I had to spare from working on a story while dealing with the idiot disease, so that often everything but the story has gone to the wall, neglected. I offer this not as an excuse for failing you but as the reason, and I humbly apologize for all disappointments.
But one may well ask: How does someone go on writing while dealing with a life-threatening, crippling disease?
The answer: Very slowly, if that’s all that’s possible. And very stubbornly, certainly.
Little did my long-suffering family know that the infuriating stubbornness of my youth (all right – of my infancy, childhood, youth, middle age, and declining years) would turn out to be a Good Thing, because there have been many days when it’s been only bloody-minded stubbornness that’s dragged me to the computer to work.
Yet the cancer goes on, forcing me to accept it as a chronic disease – a thing I will now be fighting day in and day out for the rest of my life, never leaving me alone for long. That’s why I chose to make a kind of closure with Frevisse in The Apostate’s Tale. Someone once earned their master’s degree in English with a thesis paper on how Frevisse’s series makes a single, over-arching story told in multiple volumes. I love that idea, and willful, stubborn creature that I am, I chose to end Frevisse’s story where I wanted it to end.
Still, I’ve already written a novella for her, set after Apostate’s, and hope to write more. Let them be considered grace notes to the series itself. And even if there are no more stories – well, the ending to Joliffe’s last book – “Let the wagons roll!” – still pleases me with thought of that gallant, joyous going onward. Whether I am able to or not.
You see, the cancer is back, and it’s fighting me harder and longer than it’s ever done before. It’s the reason there’s been so little activity here since the end of 2011, when the last aromastase medication I attempted wiped out my energy and too much of my brain, all to no use. So far, through more than a year, nothing I’ve tried has curbed the nasty stuff and this summer I’ve been brought at last to what I’ve avoided for twelve years for fear of losing more of my brain – another bout with chemotherapy.
But maybe my stubbornness will see me through again. After all, Cancer happens. And Death. But so does Life.
– Margaret
September 12th, 2012 - 10:12 am
I admit being hooked on the Frevisse series and kept checking your home-page for any news or hint regarding a new ‘story’ coming. And kept checking and checking – honestly, it was almost as if going into withdrawal from this very “human” character that you created. Then, yesterday, I read your posting. My first reaction was being stunned that there wouldn’t be any more Frevisse escapades – and then I felt horrible for putting a book before compassion of your battling illness. So, I say to you that I admire your will of battle with the illness and apologize for hating to see Frevisse leave. Your creation of Frevisse was just amazing. Thank you for giving her to us – please rest well.
September 13th, 2012 - 8:22 am
I am so sorry to hear of your illness and filled with thanks and admiration that you have fought cancer for twenty years and given us so many wonderful stories during that time while also dealing the horrible house issues and raising your family. I am also grateful for your wonderfully informative blog posts about historical details and research. Between the books and the blog I’ve been inspired to read and learn so much more about this era.
You and your brave fight against cancer are in my thoughts and heart.
September 13th, 2012 - 10:33 am
I had a feeling that Frevisse’s wings would be clipped as Abbess, and there is some closure there. Thank you for her, and all the other wonderful characters we have come to love and hate all over these years. The Widow’s Tale is especially poignant, now. It is a credit to your spirit that you could write characters whose goodness is so evident at times when you would be justified to just rage at the world. Rose, Bassett, Robert, the Reeve, the character with epilepsy and his friend, Jane, Dame Perpetua, Dame Claire, the little girl in The Boy’s Tale (Lady Adela?). I so wish she were real because she is such a great character. Father Henry, Domina Edith, Ardyss, and of course Joliffe.
I have one request- if there is any way you have the strength…a short story, a blog, an e-mail, an outline, to tell who Joliffe is married to, how it happened, where his family is, and more about where he came from. Oh, and what IS his name, and where did he grow up?
They are all so real, and for that we are a very grateful.
September 17th, 2012 - 9:38 am
I am so very sorry to hear that you’ve had this continuing battle. In creating such realistic characters that have become dear to me, you have become dear as well. Please know that you will be in my prayers.
Selfishly though, I have to echo Joanne’s request: can you tell us more of Joliffe’s story? I realize that to do so may be admitting defeat in some way (which I am sure you don’t wish to do), and I do hope that you will recover and thrive and write many, many more stories!
September 21st, 2012 - 8:43 am
Oh no! I thought at the time I read The Apostate’s Tale that it sounded a bit final, and even mentioned that in my review, hoping it wasn’t so.
Selfishly, I so hope you beat this cancer so you can write more, I so want more books from you!!! To have no more would feel like a light going out in this world. Your characters are so real to me they feel like old friends that I love to visit every time a new book comes out. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself, in your books and in your blog. You have made your fans feel like we are your friends too. Sending good thoughts your way and wishing you strength and freedom from pain.
October 19th, 2012 - 2:35 pm
My heart goes out to you in your fight to survive, and to keep your mind intact. We are all selfish in being caught up in the lives of your wonderful characters and your compassionate view of human nature..
A small, selfish request–you have a number of short stories out in Kindle editions. For those of us who don’t (won’t) use Kindle, could you persuade your publishers to issue them as a book of short stories?
With wishes for strength and comfort, godspeed.
October 21st, 2012 - 2:49 pm
I’ve read your books for years and am so sorry that you’ve had to fight this illness for so long. Thank you for creating such memorable characters and for telling their stories with such skill and compassion. Frevisse and Joliffe have both found their way into my heart. Even if there are to be no further novels, I, along with other respondents here, would be delighted by any details you might choose to share about your characters, their futures, and their world.
My thoughts and good wishes are with you in this latest round of treatment.
October 30th, 2012 - 3:26 am
My admiration for your books and for YOU has swelled even more.
I’m catching up on your blog tonight, so I’ve read from the “Double Twentieth” post (where I sent my belated congratulations and wishes for reclaimed health) through this one (where my stomach dropped to the floor) in a sitting. And this post is heart-breaking. Judging by the amazing quality of your books, I never could have guessed there was such an unusually high cost behind your creativity, and I am humbly grateful for the fortitude, strength, and yes, stubbornness you have displayed in your dedication to these stories. And while I certainly hope those qualities will continue to carry you through to another period of remission, I am also very glad you were able to end Frevisse’s and Joliffe’s series as you wished. Future tales and shared insights on this blog will just be that much sweeter.