Where do I begin.
This is supposed to be a happy time of year. Christmas is coming, the year of 2012 is wrapping up, there's no Mayan apocalypse, and I released a new book. All in all, good news, right?
...and then someone just has to kill his mother, go to to the elementary school where she taught, and shoot up the place. Twenty-eight people are dead in total, counting the shooter. Twenty of them were children, students at the school.
I do not claim to know why the guy did what he did. For all the insight that I try to bring into my characters, there are still acts of human cruelty that elude any attempts by me to rationalize them. Acts like what happened this morning.
Perhaps, in time, the world will be a better place. I'd like to think that, in my own small way, my work as a writer will someday contribute to that. After all, a world where more people take the time to enjoy e-books and other novels like mine...how could that be a bad thing?
But for now, this is the world we live in. For the families of those children, and the other dead people, there will be no "happy holidays".
Instead, there will be twenty empty stockings, not hung by the chimney with care, and probably not a lot of hope either.