Typing With Wet Claws: Black Friday Edition

November 25, 2016annabowling 1 Comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for our regularly scheduled Feline Friday. The picture for this blog entry is a Greatest Hits picture, because I was not having any part of any picture taking today, even if it is my blog day. Nope, no way, not even for Anty. She got a couple of pictures of my butt, because I kept walking away from the camera. That is how I tell her I would prefer not to participate in her photoshoots at any given time. This may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I had regular cat food yesterday, because somebody did not write down that Mama and Uncle should get me special turkey flavored cat food when they bought Thanksgiving stuff. It also may or may not have anything to do with the fact that Anty took a movie of me washing myself and put it on Instagram. Granted, it did get a lot of likes, and I am super, super fuzzy, so my modesty is intact, but still, are there no limits?

Anyway, even when sick, Anty wrote her post for Buried Under Romance. She did, however, forget to post about it (that is an occupational hazard with bad colds like the one Anty is getting over) so this may be the first people have heard of it. It looks like this:

and you can read it here:

http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/11/saturday-discussion-favorite-families-in-romance.html

If you had seen Anty this week, you would not blame her for forgetting to post about her post. It was a pretty rough week. She is doing better now, and she did finally get enough brain together to watch things on Netflix. One of the things she watched, besides Thanksgiving themed TV show episodes, was a movie called Results, which actually did have a kitty in it. It also had a dog in it, and, of course, some humans, but the kitty part is the part that mattered. Anty liked the characters and storyline, and thinks the actors all did very good jobs throughout the whole movie. My favorite part was when the kitty walked out of the loud human party at the end. I love movies with happy endings. I like to think he went under a big bed. where it was quiet, and had lots of treats.

Even though I had regular flavor cat food (it is really good, so I am not complaining) I did get lots of treats, too. That makes it a good Thanksgiving. In case you were wondering, here is what the humans had for dinner. Uncle says not all the food made it into the picture (also, this is only one plate, and yes, it is on top of a legal pad, because the humans ate in the living room. Anty needed to be under her blankey.)

Uncle had a very good time making everything. The humans had to put other things on their plates when they finished the first ones, because Uncle made a lot. Then there was pie. I do not eat pie, because I am a kitty, but the humans seemed to like it. Anty threw me a napkin that smelled like the birdie the humans were eating, and I was very interested in that. I considered pouncing on it, but then I got distracted. Maybe another time.

I sometimes forget how to play, and my humans have to teach me again, but I do not think they mind. I catch on sooner or later, and then it is fun time. Anty has said she thinks I might like a toy that moves on its own, because I am interested in the toys she throws me as long as they are moving, but when they stop moving, I lose interest. Anty thinks that is because playing is really hunting practice, and I am not interested in hunting things that are already dead (because not moving = already dead.) She is pretty smart, so she may be on to something here. I guess I will find out on Christmas, which is not that far away. Anty, Uncle and Mama talked mostly about what to serve for Christmas dinner, while eating Thanksgiving dinner.

Anty is doing Black Friday a little differently this year. Since Mama has to work the morning shift, and Anty is getting over the cold (but still determined to get out and do stuff; a week of Anty being inside all the time is driving all of us nuts) they are going to go and see what deals they can get in the afternoon. I have seen the list, and “cat food” is one of the first items on it, so I am not bothered about anything else they might get while they are out buying that.

Until then, Anty is bundling under her blankey and reacquainting herself with this whole writing thing. A non-writing Anty is not a good thing for anybody. so I will not let that happen. I must return to m y mews duties, so that is about it for now. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Typing With Wet Claws: Special Pre-Thanksgiving Edition

November 23, 2016annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here. for a special, pre-Thanksgiving edition of Typing With Wet Claws. As you may have guessed, since it is me blogging today, and not my Anty, Anty’s cold is still sticking around. She is pretty sure she will feel better soon, though, which is a good thing. One of the duties of a mews is to take care of things like this when my human is down, so I am writing Anty’s blog for today. She thought about writing her own blog, but nobody wants to read the word, “phlegm,” as many times as she would have had to use it.

Because this is a special edition, I do not have to talk about Anty’s writing first (there would not have been a lot to talk about anyway, because that would require her to access the storytelling part of her brain, and she has not yet found the deciding what to watch on Netflix part, which is usually pretty easy to find.) There will be more writing when she feels better, but for now, she does like to give staring at a screen or page a couple of times a day. Sometimes, there are words there by the time she stops staring. I think they are even English words, so that is a good sign.

Anty has been doing more reading than usual, which may be the one plus of this whole cold. Okay, that and the fact that Anty’s cold came at exactly the same time as Mama’s vacation. Do not worry, Mama had not planned on going anywhere (apart from helping Uncle get to work on days when it is cold or rainy or snowy) so this is not disrupting any plans, and Anty gets a built in nursing staff. That is pretty cool. Also, Uncle planned on doing all of the cooking himself anyway. That is always a good thing, especially because Uncle used to cook professionally. That means for monies. He is not charging Anty or Mama anything for making Thanskgiving dinner, though. They know where he sleeps. Also, he bought all the food. I will still have cat food, because I am still a cat.

Back to Anty’s reading. She is pretty much at the acceptance phase now, of having read all existing historical romances by the author who got her into historical romance in the first place. There are a lot of other books, in historical romance and other genres, so she is not out of books. Because Anty is a writer herself, she can also write her own, which is a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. That will probably happen much faster after this cold is gone.

Mama is betting the cold will be mostly gone by Monday. Anty wants it gone now, but she will take it being gone by Friday. That is because Friday is Black Friday, and Anty loves Black Friday. Anty is a morning person and an extrovert, so getting up early, with the specific reason of going places where there will be a lot of people is actually a good thing for her. There was one year, before I was born, when Olivia was the kitty in this family, when Anty got up early-early-early and walked to the mall (she could, because it was on the same street: this was in the Old Country) so she could be there when it opened.

She had a list with her (those of you who have been with us a while know how much Anty loves lists) and went by herself. She did not mind the long, long line to get into a particular store that we will call Bullseye. There were some very special deals at Bullseye that year, and Anty was determined to get all the shopping done in one go. It was a long wait, but she had he mp3 player, so she could listen to music that corresponded to the story she was writing at the time. Once she got into Bullseye, she followed her list and the store map, and got everything in her cart relatively quickly. Then she parked her cart in the book aisle (astoundingly, nobody was going there; she was not making that up) and phoned Mama to come get her. Mama did, because Anty had also picked out gifts Mama needed to buy, so Mama would not need to do it herself. One big haul, and it was all done.

That is probably not going to happen this year. For one thing, Anty would need to take a bus to the mall, because it is too far to walk, and also the whole cold thing. Anty even let Mama do her own laundry (Anty usually does all the laundry for the whole family. It is kind of her thing.) on Monday. That should tell you something. It is okay, though, because she has a fully loaded Kindle, a packed TBR shelf, and there is that whole Netflix thing. Plus naps. I am a very big proponent of naps. All that good-smelling food Uncle will make will probably help her, as well.

Things are starting to look up, though. Yesterday, Anty washed her hair, and today, she put polish on her hind claws…excuse me, they are called toenails on humans. Those things help her feel less gross and more human. I think that is a sign of life.

That is about it for now. I look forward to joining all of you again on our regularly scheduled Feline Friday. Did you know that, if Anty gets one more follower, she will have five hundred? Five hundred is a nice, round number, and it may inspire Anty to post something special, to celebrate. It is the season, after all.

Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Sick Day

November 21, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

Sandpaper throat, foggy head, low energy, and coughing fits that make me fairly certain it is indeed possible to cough up one’s own internal organs can only mean one thing. The traditional Thanksgiving week (or at least late fall/early winter) cold has arrived. Yesterday was also the first snow of the season, the holiday lights are up in the park that is literally five minutes walk from my front door. I had planned to walk through said park and take in the lights, while drinking hot cocoa from my favorite coffee house, but that, obviously, is not what happened.

What happened was that I woke on Saturday with that feeling that something was off, but we had Saturday stuff to do, and I am a big old stoic, which meant power on through it. About halfway through errands, well past the point of no return, my body had some choice words for me. As soon as we got home and put groceries away, I flopped. If there is one thing taking a sick day or two is good for, it is sneaking in some extra reading time. I have now officially read all published Bertrice Small historical romance novels.

This is both a good and a sad thing. On the one hand, I have now read all published Bertrice Small historical romance novels. On the other hand, I have now read all published Bertrice Small historical romance novels. For new readers (hello, and welcome) Bertrice Small is the reason I got into historical romance in the first place. That moment of cracking my purloined copy (from my mom’s nightstand) of The Kadin was pure magic. Destiny, some might say, or calling. All that I know was that I, even at far-too-young-t0-be-reading-that-book, knew there was something mine in those pages. One guess as to the topic of my next book report. Bless Mrs. Potter for rolling with it. Also for the A, and asking if I wanted to be a writer, because yes.

Strong heroines, heroes worthy of them, and love stories played out against the pageant of history, that’s what grabbed me then, and what I still love the very best now. Since I’d been saving the very last book I had not yet read by the author who sparked my love for the genre for a special occasion, a sick weekend seemed like the ticket. So, that’s it. Now what? Reading-wise, that’s not a question. I have a stack of library books, a fully loaded Kindle, and fully stocked TBR shelves, so I am not lacking for books to read.

There’s that pang, though, that this is it. I’ve read all there is to read in this genre by this author. I want to live with that for a while, roll it around in my brain as I continue on. Thought processes while brain is sick-fogged are probably not ones fit for public consumption, but there’s something in there. Bertrice Small has been an influence, absolutely, and, while our books are not exactly the same (she’s written and sold a heck of a lot more, for one thing, and the content is a little, ah, different in certain areas) there was a seed planted when I snuck that book off my mom’s nightstand, and I am forever grateful. I don’t think it’s any accident that it comes at the time it does.

I’ve passed a milestone birthday, first snow of the year, frustrated at being sick when I want to be doing stuff, and yet – there is always an “and yet”- this fits, somehow. Writer people who know the Hero’s Journey also know that the mentor can never make it all the way to the end. There comes a point where the hero (or heroine) has to go the rest of the way on their own. They’ve been taught all the mentor has to teach, and now it’s their time. A new chapter begins.

Right now, I’m sitting here in my recliner, bundled in pajama pants and hooded sweatshirt, looking out at gray clouds that are not yet done sifting snow down up0n us. This, again, will not be a walk through the park evening. It will, however, be a bundle under the blankey evening, with a good book or two (or ten) and, maybe, depending on how industrious I feel, a legal pad, because the voices in my head don’t take sick days.

Typing With Wet Claws: Turn Off and Tune In Edition

November 18, 2016annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. As usual, I have to tell you about things Anty wrote this week, before I am allowed to talk about anything else, even though there is a major holiday coming in fewer than seven days. For those of you who were wondering, I am not allowed to eat people food, but I will get a special turkey cat food so I can celebrate Thanksgiving, too. I am very thankful that I live in an apartment and have humans who love me, and that I get to write my own blog once a week. How many cats can say that?

Talking about Anty’s writing is the price I pay, which is not entirely a bad thing. This week, it is a little different, because there was some collateral damage resulting from efforts to get that blog back in fighting trim (that is a fancy, old-timey phrase that means read to go) and some posts did not make it. We will have a moment of silence for those posts. All right, the moment is over. What I can do is point you to the page where you can read all of Anty’s posts at Buried Under Romance. There will be a new one up tomorrow, so we can all look forward to that. The link to all her surviving posts is here:

http://www.buriedunderromance.com/author/annab

and it looks like this:

Okay, only part of the page looks like that, but I already showed what the top of the page looked like before, so this is a different part of the page. Anty is very happy to have a place to talk about different things regarding romance novels every week, because, trust me, she can go on about that stuff all day. Sometimes, she does.

Which brings me to our topic for this week, here. The first part of the week was not Anty’s favorite part. She did not like the lost wallet part (but she did like the finding it again part) or the getting caught in the rain part. She did not like the part where two of her friends’ pets went to Rainbow Bridge, or when another friend got some news she had hoped she would not hear. There is a lot of noise on Facebook and other social media, and, at one point in the middle of this week, Anty wanted it to stop.

So, Anty made it stop. Every morning, Anty makes tea and goes into her office, to write her morning pages first thing. Usually, then, she will leave the office, turn on her computer and go about the regularly scheduled parts of her day. This week was different. This week, for a big chunk of it, she stayed in her office. It feels calm in there, it is very close to the kitchen (for the making of more tea, which is very important to Anty) and she has all her writing things around her. Well, except for her laptop. That is usually in the living room, when she is home, because the modem is in the living room, and Anty’s office is at the other end of the apartment. Computer connection is not the greatest all the way out there, but that does not, as Anty found out, have to be a bad thing.

Anty likes writing her morning pages, because they get her brain in writing mode, and she does not do anything else (besides drink tea, that is) while she is writing them. On one of her morning pages spreads, she wrote about how she is grumpy because she does not have the reading time she would like to have. That makes it harder to get into story mode. It is like feeding a race horse, or putting gas in a car. To perform, there needs to be fuel. (Also, feeding kitties. Feeding kitties is extremely important. Anty is very good at feeding kitties.) This week, Anty added reading to her morning pages time, and that worked very well. When Anty took in story, she found it was easier to put out story.

Yesterday, Anty got done with her morning pages, and her morning reading, and felt as though she was not done after all. She took out an old notebook she had started, many years ago (Olivia was the family cat when she got this notebook, that is how long ago it was) to write about her reading process. She wrote two whole pages in that, without even any effort. That felt good, but there was still more she wanted to do. That is when she saw a Picadilly notebook with butterflies all over it. She had been wanting to start a notebook to talk about personal style (that means things like hair and makeup and clothes, and things like that.) She already knew she wanted to use a particular pen and ink with that one, but she had never taken that notebook out of its wrapper. That day, she did, and wrote five pages in that one. If you are following the math, that is two morning pages, two reading book pages and five style book pages. That is nine pages, all before she opened her office door to go get more tea.

Anty will be the first to admit that those pages were not novel work, but what they did was get her in a writing mood, so that when she was done with them, the next thing she wanted to do was write on her stories. Time to open those notebooks and take out those pens and get down to business. She even took notebooks and pens to the coffee house with her, instead of her laptop. Revolutionary, I know, but it was the same thing. Once she put pen to paper, she wanted to keep on going. I think that is a very good thing.

That is about it for this week, because Anty does need some computer time after all, so, until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

First Things First

November 16, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

This is where I am today, likely for a large part of the day. The origina text of this entry was handwritten (all right, “by zombies,” if you must. This is my blog, and I can use whatever tense or voice I see fit when I am writing it.) in vintage number two pencils that were once my father’s, on scrap notebook paper rescued from a rolling file cart that was once Housemate’s and now is mine. The reason why is that my brain works better this way.

Staring at blank screens, no matter how often I have done so over the years, is not my idea of fun. Give me a sheet of writing paper, however, and some means to make marks upon it, and my brain breaks into something not entirely unlike a Bollywood dance routine. Right now, I am on my fifth notebook for morning pages, thirteen spreads away from needing a new one. That will be number six. I don’t remember the exact date I started this practice, without getting up to look, but I do know that I am glad I did. I get myself to my office as close to first thing in the morning as I can manage, plop my bottom in the chair, open the notebook, and I write. The subject does not matter, and I am the only one to see those pages, period.

Today, I finally sketched light pencil lines on the line-less page, and, right away, I felt as though I had sunk into a warm bath. Relief. Rightness. Home. I wrote about a morning, yesterday, when everything had gone wrong, from a missing wallet (eventually found) to not one but two friends losing beloved pets. About getting caught in the rain on my way home from my usual Tuesday breakfast meeting with N. About the long PM conversation I had that afternoon, with an author I admire for many reasons, and the feeling of connection and a seed of a new idea that conversation started.

One of the things we talked about was reading, so I had that on my mind when I wrote these morning pages. That gave me the idea for another sort of morning pages; reading pages in the morning, in addition to writing them. When I was little, I tried to convince my mother that there was such a thing as wake up stories, and she needed to read me those as much as she needed to read me our nightly bedtime stories. They were married, I think my reasoning was, or siblings (hopefully not both at the same time, ahem) but my efforts to persuade her to read to me in the mornings as well as at night were only sometimes successful. Now that I am the mommy (as in adult female head of household; I do not have children) why not add wake up stories to the routine when possible? Today, I did. I finished writing my morning pages, made a second cup of tea, turned on my Kindle and read. Warm bath feeling, all over again. This was right. This was food.

After that, I wanted to write, but I didn’t want to turn on a screen and touch keys. The internet could wait, and so it did. I took out some scratch paper, and a bullet point list of the day’s tasks flowed out like water. My brain salivated at the thought of putting physical pen to paper, and, so, that’s my day.

Pen and paper, here in my hobbit hole in the morning, tappity tappity on the pink laptop out in the great wide world (aka coffee house down the block) later. I like this, going with my natural inclinations rather than against them. I don’t remember where I read the suggestion to write out blog entries in longhand (perhaps to photograph and publish that way?) but I always wanted to try it. Again, why not? The blog police are not going to come and get me over this. That’s when the scrap paper and pencils fused in my brain, and I couldn’t wait to get started. We will see how this goes, but the proof for at least today is already here – I wrote this. A piece of writing exists now, that did not exist before, and I did not have to smash my head against a brick wall to make it happen. I like that. I like liking that. I may be on to something here.

Time to wrap this puppy, as I have stories to write, so I will end it with this: keep going. Do what works, stop doing what doesn’t. Stick duct tape over the Hypercritical Gremlins, because they are not allowed to talk to you like that. Make a thing where there was no thing before. More often than not, the more you do, the more you will want to do. My mom was right on that last one, but I’m still right on the wake up stories. (Sorry, Mom.)

The Room Where It Happens (well, kind of)

November 14, 2016November 14, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

In light of current events, the setup of a romance writer’s office may not amount to a hill of beans, but romance writing, well, that’s a whole other story. Pun intended. This morning, after giving it a valiant effort, I have finally come to a few decisions:

Working in my office, rather than the living room is a must, especially when other family members are around.
My laptop is incompatible with my secretary desk, unless I can trade my body for that of an especially limber contortionist. I am rather fond of the body I currently inhabit, that is not going to happen.
Old desktop is incompatible with the internet, and, given the fact that my office is at the opposite end of the house to the modem, it is possible that a new desktop might have the same problem.
Word still works perfectly fine on old desktop, which means I do have a computer on which I can write, and the secretary desk is still good for writing longhand, which is my favorite. I have my phone for Spotify, so music is going to be there, even if internet isn’t.
All of which points me in the direction of writing happens in the office, internet happens outside of it. I can live with that.

Pause here to retrieve phone that plummeted to the carpet, because I contorted wrong. Phone is undamaged, my nerves slightly behind that. I wanted to be so much further than I am right now. Further in my career, further in life, further in a lot of things. I’m not. I’m here, and here is where I can take the next step towards my goals. I love this blog, I seriously do, and I love blogging for Heroes and Heartbreakers and Buried Under Romance, and other venues, but the girl who snuck her mom’s copy of The Kadin under the bed in the guest bedroom is politely clearing her throat and tilting her head toward the virtual bookshelf with four titles that have my name on them. She says they are lonely and want some friends.

I am with her on that one. I am her, so that’s pretty much a given, only I am the version of her with life experience, a better knowledge of what constitutes emotional storytelling, and has read a whole lot more historical romances than cracking the cover on that very first one. I’ve seen things. The switch from epic sagas to lighter fare as a norm, the prevalence of one era over all others, rather than a wide spectrum, the shift to series rather than standalones, and it’s easy, almost too easy, to feel like some sort of dinosaur/unicorn hybrid when core story and current market aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye.

Those things may be facts, but here’s another one: I’m a romance writer. That’s what I do. That’s what I am. Even if I were to have some sort of gaurantee that I would never, ever, sell another book, never, ever make another cent from the writing of said books, I would still write them. I can’t turn this stuff off. I’ve tried. I was miserable, so, obviously, that’s not the solution.

What the solution is, is to show up every day, and, at the end of it, for there to be more of the book on page or in file than there was when I got out of bed. That’s it. Standard left foot, right foot kind of thing, and, before I know it, bloop, there it will be, The End. The Hypercritical Gremlins have been quiet as of late, partially because of the triple layer of duct tape over their mouths (it is tremendously satisfying to apply such) and partly because the events of the past week have reminded me that we need romance fiction now, more than ever.

We need the happily ever afters. We need the hope. We need the community. We need the assurance that, if we stick together and put others above ourselves, we can make a difference. I’ve never been one to want my HEA’s at the level of woodland creatures doing the housework, and the now-united lovers never, ever having any more problems throughout their entire lives. On the contrary, I want them to face everything that life has to throw at them, be it wars, natuaral disasters, family drama, the ravages of time, whatever, together. No matter what. As long as they’ve got each other, they’re going to call that good.

So am I. Right now, I’ve got two lovers in Georgian England, Hero and Heroine, completely convinced that they have no choices, no paths open to them but the ones they currently walk…And Then. And then, on one rain-soaked evening, their worlds collide, and the impact of the crash propels them both in a new direction. With the Beach Ball, Melva and I have a woman who’s angry at having what she does best taken away from her, and a man who offers an alternative that is both intiguing and completley out of her wheelhouse.

Feeling off center can be a good thing sometimes, a chance to recalibrate balance, reassess what’s most important. Change direction when needed, and full speed ahead. All I know for sure is that I’m doing what I’m meant to do, telling these stories, and the right way to tell them is the one that gets me to the end. As long as that happens, anything goes.

Typing With Wet Claws: Mucho Laundry Edition

November 11, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Before I get into anything else, and there is always an anything else, I first have to talk about Anty’s writing this week. This week, Anty sent off the first chapter of Her Last First Kiss that is ready for critique, to Miss N. This is her second draft, with some new things in it, and she is a little nervous and a little excited to have other eyes on this new version. She will see what Miss N thinks, and know more about that on Tuesday. That is still a few days away.

Miss Ezrah at Buried Under Romance fought the hackers and won (I think she is a warrior princess) so Anty was able to post a new installment of Saturday Discussion there. It is here:

http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/11/saturday-discussion-tainted-love.html#comment-9167

and it looks like this:

Anty is also working to get current with her chapter for Anty Melva in the Beach Ball, which she had hoped to get done sooner than now, but it has been a week. She is also working on posts for Heroes and Heartbreakers. Some of those mean she needs to do some reading first, so she is looking at her available time to see when she can do that. Her goal is to get her desk clear and then pitch new posts, as well as work on books.

Sometimes, being a domestic warrior queen does not play well with that goal. Take today, for instance. Anty had wanted to get my picture for today’s blog before she had her big laundry morning. She had one load to do for Mama and then a big load to do for herself and uncle. I am a kitty, and do not need laundry because I do not wear clothes. I have fur. I also did not want my picture taken, and kept walking away any time Anty had her phone out. I did not feel like staying still. Anty did not know why, but she was focused on the laundry anyway. She likes to get laundry done in the morning, when the Laundromat is most quiet, so she can spend some time reading or writing while her clothes get clean.

Today was not one of those days. It was not quiet. The first time Anty went to the Laundromat, she shut off her phone, because there was a person there who wanted to talk to her, and she wanted to listen. Also, the custodian was there, making sure the building was clean. Anty figured she could read things and listen to music on her second laundry trip (it is a good thing we live kitty-corner -I am disappointed that it does not have anything to do with actual kitties, except maybe that I am one- from the Laundromat.) Anty had been wearing old clothes to do laundry in, and, while she was getting the big load together, she heard a tear. She had figured she could get one more wear out of that pair of jeans, but she was wrong. Time to change, so she did.

Then she came home. I was curled in a very nice ball, in front of the heater, and Anty knelt to take my picture. Then she stopped. Something was wrong. That thing would be that she realized she was kneeling in a puddle of my, um, stuff. For those of you who are new readers (hello!) I have special paws, so I do not climb. That means that I do not use a litterbox, even though many other kitties do. I have a special spot on the floor where I do my stuff, and, usually, I will let a human know when I need to go. This time, though, Uncle was at work and Anty was at the Laundromat. I did what I had to do.

As soon as Anty figured out what was going on, she got up, put the pee pads down on my puddle, and then Febreezed herself. That did not do the trick. She let out a long breath, stared down at her clothes and vowed she was not going to make three Laundromat trips in one day. Even if that would allow her to get current with the linens. Anty considers laundry to be therapeutic, but even she has her limits. It was laundry or writing, and, this time, writing won. That is a good thing, because Anty gets cranky when she is away from her writing for too long. Some times, writing has to come first, even when cat, um, stuff is involved. That is a sign of true dedication, if you ask me. Plus, humans seem to like putting on clothes warm from the dryer, so, from a certain perspective, I did her a favor.

That is about it for this week, because Anty is burning daylight. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Normal Things

November 9, 2016November 9, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

I wasn’t going to blog today, but I need to, so I am. This is not a post about the election. This is a post about normal things. For me, today, that means writing. This morning, I got up, my head muddled with news and social media feeds and friends fearful and angry and hurting, on all sides of this whole deal, my heart heavy, and the first thing I could do was go to my office, open my morning pages book, and put pen to paper. Because that’s what I do. That’s as much a part of the entire morning routine as feeding the cat and making tea.

Normal things give us a sense of purpose when it feels like invisible hands shook our lives like an Etch-a-Sketch. I love my office; it’s not yet perfect but it is a place I can go inside, close the door and feel that sense of peace, especially needed on days when everything feels turned around. This morning, I made tea, settled into my office chair, opened the morning pages book, took a moment to appreciate the pretty pages (pretty pages are like catnip to me) and put pen to paper, because that’s what I do. That’s what’s normal. That’s a first step forward.

This post was going to be about fountain pens, in honor of the National Fountain Pen Day that I missed, but I’m going to save that for another time. I didn’t want to write about pens today. Sure, I could, but that wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was historical romance. Not as an escape. I don’t use the word, “escape,” to refer to reading, of any genre, because it isn’t. Whatever is going on in my life or the world at large is still there when I close the file or notebook, or put book or Kindle aside, but it is a respite. A place where I can go for a little while, do something else, and come back stronger, fresher, more equipped to take on what else needs doing.

The “historical” part of historical romance reminds me that we are resilient. The “romance” part reminds me that we are not alone. Both things good to keep in mind during turbulent times. There’s something special about stepping into another time and place, somewhat like going into my office and closing the door. There’s that moment of taking a breath, letting the new (old?) surrounding settle around me and slipping into the world of the story, the cadence of the author’s voice. Still holds true when that voice is my own, but, depending on where I am in the story, guessing where things might go could me a little different when I’m the one in charge of that. (Or my imaginary friends are; they do tend to have minds of their own.)

It’s rainy today, my very favorite kind of weather, apart from snow, and so my instinct is to go out in it. I have snazzy leopard rain boots, and the coffee house the next block over is always good for my story brain. Memories of a historical I tried to force out of my brain -well, two, really- in that very coffee house, inch by kicking and screaming inch, jumped into my head when I mentioned that. Maybe because this is the month of NaNo? Not guilt over them, or any feeling at all, really, only more of a “well, those were there, at previous points in time.” A passing thought, probably nothing else attached to it, but it was in my head, so onto the page it goes.

There is tea at that coffee house, and I may allow myself a baked good if they have anything especially appetizing. The Earl Grey cookies are amazing, and I will go for anything with coconut in it, as long as it doesn’t contain any nut-nuts as well. Cup of tea, possible cookie, work on scene for Beach Ball, because that’s on the list, and spare a few minutes to take in the bare brick walls, adorned with the works of local artists. Take in some atmosphere. Fill the well. Maybe bake cookies myself when I get back home, because that’s relaxing for me, and we get cookies. Normal stuff; it has power.

Origin Stories

November 7, 2016November 7, 2016annabowling 1 Comment

This weekend, I missed National Fountain Pen Day, and squeaked in under the wire on #FallBackInTime. The first holiday is rather self-explanatory, and we’ll get to that one, but I want to work backwards today. #FallBackInTime comes each year at the day we set our clocks back, and readers and writers of historical romance are invited to post pictures of themselves with a favorite historical romance novel and add a comment about why we love the genre. This year caught me by surprise.

Part of that is because it was a hectic weekend, and part of it was because I was in a crappy mood from said hectic weekend, and had to have go-out-and-do-stuff therapy on Sunday afternoon. I got home, feeling much better, but bone-tired, and checked my phone. Those are a lot of hashtags from my fellow historical romance people. What’s up with that. Oh. #FallBackInTime. Umm… :looks around, weary body at war with desire to participate: I grabbed the nearest book (Kindles are kind of tricky for shots like this) and snapped a selfie. This is not, for those interested in such things, my favorite historical romance novel; I’ve only recently started reading it (and stay tuned for highlights of my rant on lack of reading time in recent weeks) but Bertrice Small is the first genre historical romance writer I ever read, and the one who got me into this beautiful mess in the first place.

I read and write historical romance because falling in love is always an adventure.

One of the things I like most about talking with SF/F writers is that most of them have a specific origin story; that a-ha moment when they first connected with Asimov, Bradbury or LeGuin. That never happened to me, at least not with those authors, but I know that moment. I found parts of myself in Small, Sherwood, and Woodiwiss. Though galaxies far, far away never called my name (on occasion, one would aim a friendly wave from a polite distance) the long ago part, that had a big, sparkly sign with my name on it, jumped up and down and waved its arms to beckon me over.

Those centuries far in the past felt like home right from the start, and they still are. When I wrote fan fiction inspired by SF/F franchises, even those stories were pretty much historical romances with blinky props. Even with the modern setting of the Beach Ball, which I am co-writing with Melva Michaelian, it’s set in the world of historical romance publishing. Historical romance isn’t as much a what-I-do as a part of who-I-am. For those who think the genre is only about wallpaper history or girls in prom dresses, or that it’s all about the sex, I say oh no, no, no, no, no, no. In historical romance, the woman always wins. The woman gets to tell her story. She gets the guy, yes, but more than that, she gets the right guy. One who respects her and cherishes her and considers her wants and needs as important as his own. Shoot, she gets a guy who likes her. He’s not all she gets, either. She gets what she’d have wanted even if he didn’t exist. She gets a say in her own future. She gets to use her talents, speak her mind, win the war.

When I was eleven years old, I stole my mom’s copy of The Kadin, by Bertrice Small, set in sixteenth-century Scotland and the Ottoman empire, and read it under the brass bed in the guest bedroom. Right away, I knew I’d found what I wanted to read and write for the rest of my life. So far, so good. I may have been on the young side to get the romance part, but I’d always loved the fairy tales with romance in them best, so I figure I was hardwired for that stuff. The world of the story blossomed around me, and watching the heroine, Janet (later renamed Cyra) grow and change and fall in love, that lit a fire within me. I wanted to learn how to write stories like that when I grew up; still working on that one, but I like to think I’m making progress.

Trends in publishing are ever-changing, and romance is a huge, huge umbrella. Big, sweeping historicals with bold heroines and epic timelines are still my favorites, though there are countless other variations, but historical romance is my home. If I received or discovered any super power under that brass bed, when I fell into the voice and the history and the time and the place and the characters and the story, it was the ability to come as close as mere mortals can to traveling in time. It’s been said that we are each the result of a thousand loves, and that holds true for historical romance novels as well. Each love story is a moment in time, when two people find a part of themselves in each other; who they are, who they want to be, who they always were, but never had the courage to declare. When a family, whether it remains only those two people, or becomes the start of a dynasty that spans centuries, takes its first breath. Play it all out against the pageant of history, and I’ve found my happy place.

Why read and write historical romance? For me, it’s only natural. I kind of like that product of a thousand loves thing. Let’s go with that.

Typing With Wet Claws: Urrrrgh Edition

November 4, 2016November 4, 2016annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This Feline Friday is a little bit different, because it is one of those days. Anty did not get a lot of sleep last night, so she is extra grumpy today, which is not helping the fact that this is an urrrrghy day overall. Not that she is wearing overalls. Those are not her kind of thing. They are not my kind of thing, either, because I am a kitty and am covered in fur, so I do not need clothing/ I am very, very fluffy. But this part of the post is not about me.

Normally, this is the place where I would put Anty’s latest post at Buried Under Romance, but I cannot do that this week, because the site was hacked. That is not a happy thing. I guess somebody really does not like romance novels. I do not understand why. They make Anty, and many other writers and readers, very happy. Miss Ezrah, who is the webmistress at Buried Under Romance, is working very very hard to make sure the hackers are defeated and Anty, and all the other people on that site, can post again as soon as possible. In the meantime, here is the page where you can read all of Anty’s Saturday Discussion posts so far: http://www.buriedunderromance.com/author/annab and the top of the page should look like this:

Please note that the picture on this screenshot is of Grumpy Cat. I did not plan it that way, although I am always happy to further the career of other cats in social media, but that is not the big thing I am here to talk about today. The big new is that it is now official, that Anty will be co-presenting the Blogging Isn’t Dead workshop, along with Corrina Lawson and Rhonda Lane, at this year’s Let Your Imagination Take Flight conference. That will be April 7th and 8th, in Burlington, MA. If you are there, Anty would love to say hello. Miss Corrina and Miss Rhonda are very nice, too, and Anty is happy to be working with them. The official roster of programs and presenters looks like this:

If you would like more information, such as how to register, so that you can go to the conference, and hear Anty, Miss Corrina, and Miss Rhonda talk about blogging in person, then you can find that information here: http://necrwa.org/blog1/conference/

Even though I write pretty much one third of Anty’s blog posts (at least at this site) for her, I will not be attending the conference, because I am a kitty, and kitties like to stay at home. I would like it if Anty stayed at home, too, so that she could feed me, but I have Uncle for that. He gives me big dinners, so that is not a hardship. I am sure Anty will give me the chance to impart some of my wisdom. At these conferences, people have come up to her and told her they like my blog. Those people have very good taste. Maybe Anty will hunt down a new paw print rubber stamp (we had one in the old country, but it got lost in the move) so that I can give autographs. My actual paws are staying at home, because they are part of me, so any such autographs would be symbolic. Maybe Anty could draw a paw print. She has been known to do that on greeting cards.

Anyway, that is the good writing news for this week. Other than that, this has been an urrrghy week. Anty is glad that she did not try to do NaNo this year, as she would be a nervous wreck by now (which is to say, more than usual) because word counts and domestic tornadoes do not generally mix well. Anty is not worried. There is a calm after every storm, and if there is one thing she has learned from al the urrrghy experiences, it is that the writing will be there. With all the notebooks Anty has going, I do not doubt that at all. Sometimes, the writing takes a little longer, and that is okay, as long as it still gets done, and Anty will make sure that it does.

This has been a day that helps Anty see how important conflict is in writing. She wanted to be well rested for all she had to do today, but she did not get a lot of sleep. Okay, Laundromat time is good for resting (but not sleep) and reading and quiet time, but even though Anty was early, it was not quiet or peaceful. Okay, she would nap when she got home. Well, that was the plan, but we also have a sleep-deprived Uncle at home, and Uncle likes to walk around a lot when he is at home. Since we have old floors, this is noisy. Anty went off to get Uncle’s pills from the pharmacy, but there was a complication there. She fixed that, then wanted to get a calm lunch at Panera, where she could write, but she forgot one important thing It is across the street from a major hospital, and it was lunch hour. Anty had to wait a long time for a table, and then it did not have an outlet for her computer. Also, the Diet Pepsi dispenser was empty and she had to settle for caffeine free. Anty could use some caffeine. Really, a lot of it. She would have ordered tea, but the sign on the hot water dispenser said it was filled at 6AM. Not helpful after noon.

All of these things are annoying, but if everything went according to plan, it would not be an interesting story of how Anty found some space to write, after all. She even has plans to Skype (still miffed that has nothing to do with Skye pee) with Miss Vicki, before diving into the afternoon errands. That all sounds very tiring, but Anty will get through it, because it is best for everyone involved if Anty makes sure she gets at least some writing time even with all the aggravation. Non-writing Anty is super cranky Anty, and nobody wants that.

That is about it for this week, so, until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Until next week…

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

Author: annabowling