Coming Back To The Page

If you've been waiting for the next Chase Ryder book—first of all, thank you. Thank you for still being here, for the messages, for the patience, for caring enough to ask. I owe you an explanation, and I think I owe it to myself to give one too.

The truth is, the last couple of years have been the hardest of my life.

I'm not going to go into everything, because some of it isn't fully mine to share, and some of it I'm still processing. But I want to be honest with you, because I think you deserve that and because pretending everything is fine when it isn't is something I've quietly decided I'm done with.

Here's what I can tell you.

I spent a significant part of the last two years doing palliative care, back-to-back, for two of my cats. One of them had cancer. I was doing bi-weekly chemotherapy with him, holding that hope carefully, watching for signs, willing it to work. And then it stopped working, and I moved into end-of-life care. Anyone who has loved an animal the way I love mine will understand when I say that these are not "just pets." They have been with me since they were two weeks old. They have given me the kind of unconditional love and presence that is genuinely rare, the kind that holds you together on days when nothing else does. Losing them was devastating. There is no other word for it.

At the same time, my mother has been seriously ill—stage four cancer—and last year, her mental health deteriorated significantly too. Watching a parent change, watching someone you love become unreachable in a different way than illness alone can account for, that is its own kind of grief. I was holding a lot of that, quietly, while trying to keep everything else moving.

And then I had to face the painful realisation that some people I had held close and trusted deeply were not who I believed them to be. That is a particular kind of loss, because it reaches backwards. It changes the shape of the past. Working through that has taken time and a great deal of courage.

All of this, stacking. One thing after another. And I was still trying to work through it—I have outlines for the next Chase Ryder books, I want you to know that they exist—but there came a point where I had to admit that I simply could not do justice to the work while I was in survival mode. And Chase, Sully and Bandit deserve better than survival mode. So do you.

But here is where it turns. Because something has shifted.

I have my voice back. I have my life force back. And I want to shout that from the rooftops, because for a while, I genuinely wasn't sure I would.

I have been surrounded, this year, by people who are extraordinary. Old friendships have come back to life—women I love deeply, who have shown up for me beautifully. And I’ve welcomed new people into my life who have lit me up in ways I didn’t expect, and reminded me that joy can still arrive quietly, creatively, and completely out of the blue. My soul tribe, the people who see me, who cheer for me genuinely, who bring authenticity and warmth and real connection, that tribe has grown, and it is stunning.

I am building something again. I have projects I am so excited about that I can barely contain myself, and I can't tell you what they are yet, but I want you to know that they exist, and that the version of me working on them is fuller and clearer and more herself than she has been in a long time.

Thank you for waiting. Thank you for still being here.

Jo x