Author: annabowling

Order of the Golden Curtsy: Call Back the Dream, by Barbara Hazard.

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Write what is wrong if it seems true to you and hang the critics of romance who would have it otherwise.
—Judith Ivory

I have not read a lot of Judith Ivory. I intend to correct that. I’ve read some (and need to re-read that) but this quote jumped out at me, and it is extremely relevant to my interests at present. While it’s been some time since I’ve spent the majority of my writing time scrawling in endless notebooks about how I can’t write, want to write, need to write, but nothing is coming, oh my word, am I all done? Well, no, obviously not, because I would not have a writing blog if I were. I would not be filling out invoices for my work sold to other markets, and I would not be working on current novel, novella and other projects. At the time, though, it felt like it, and that’s a feeling I want to remember. Not relive, but remember, because it has a job to do.

Earlier today, I finished rereading an old favorite historical romance, Call Back the Dream, by Barbara Hazard, which I’ve talked about some before, and likely will do again. This book is one of the special ones, that has stuck with me through decades of reading, held up exactly as I’d hoped it would. It reminds me why I love reading and writing historical romance, and makes me excited to read its companion book, which I have recently discovered somehow got separated from its parent and is in storage. :sulk: No matter, I’ll pick another read from the same bookcase, though I can’t say which right now. What I’m going for is the feel more than anything else, the big, thick bug-squasher historical romance steeped in the spirit of the times (Professor Facos, thank you for introducing me to zeitgeist, probably the greatest gift a professor could give a writer of historical romance.) – the characters think, believe and behave as people of their time, and that drives the plot.

Call Back the Dream by Barbara Hazard

Call Back the Dream
by Barbara Hazard

I. Love. This. Book. So. Hard. It. Hurts. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to know what sort of books I prefer to read, and, ideally, write, and will definitely read it again. During this particular reread, a new thought occurred to me: this book might not have made it to mainstream publication today, and if it did, there would likely be differences. Granted, there are fashions in writing, especially in genre fiction, same as there are in clothes, makeup, hairstyles, etc. It’s also true that publishing does go in cycles, so maybe some of the things that may read as dated now to the very modern reader may be all the rage next year.

Long separations aren’t common in many historical romances published today, but that doesn’t mean it takes away from the romance. Alexander and Camille are separated for fifteen years in this story, by parents who don’t take kindly to mixing classes, and both do marry other people in the interim. Reasons for and outcomes of those marriages make sense in Georgian England, and neither spouse is demonized. I liked that. When Alexander’s first wife dies, there’s pressure to seek another wife, as soon as possible, because he’s not getting any younger, and the title can only be passed down to his direct male descendant. This. Is. A. Problem. Alexander didn’t want to marry anybody but Camille in the first place, but he did his duty, and is willing to do it again. Well, to a point, that is, which I am not going to blab about here, because the scene where he Does A Thing out of strong emotion still makes my skin prickle merely thinking about it. That’s what I want to put into my books, too.

This is not a sexy book. There’s one intimate encounter between Alexander and Camille, and that not spelled out explicitly, but the strength of their love and the bond between them does perfectly fine without going into physical detail. It’s not a inspirational book, though Camille is a vicar’s daughter, her faith affects her choices, and we see her making observances of same. Her first husband is agnostic, and though it’s not gone into depth there, either, their differing views provide for stimulating conversations between the couple. Sex and faith both influence the plot but don’t dominate, though the love Camille and Alexander share, and its obstacles, do. When I read these pages, I ache for these characters and what they need to go through to achieve their HEA. I want to make that.

I love that, when Camille and Alexander do find each other after all those years, it’s not quick or easy. One of them is still married, for one thing, there’s a child involved, and both parties have huge paradigm shifts regarding things they thought they knew beyond any doubt. There’s anger. There’s betrayal. There’s an offer nice people don’t make. There’s consideration of that offer, and consideration of what acceptance of that offer would mean to other people, on an intimate and grander scale. I want to suck this in and soak in it and breathe it and learn from it and make it mine.

There are some books that we read. There are some books from which we learn. There are some books in which we see ourselves, as we are or as we would like to become. Long ago, I had the idea of starting a feature, on my previous blog (or the one before that?) to ramble about my favorite-favorite historical romance novels, but I never did it. No idea why, but no time like the present, and so I induct Call Back the Dream by Barbara Hazard as the official first member of the Order of the Golden Curtsy. Time to show respect to a mistress of the genre.

Typing With Wet Claws: Vet Vet Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This week is mostly about me, because this week, I had the adventure. Normally, I am a very healthy girl. I only eat my food that my humans give me, in my dish, in my room, so I do not know how my tummy got upset, but, this week, it did.

I puked. A lot. Also had something come out of me that was liquid, but should have been solid. Anty watched me closely and was very concerned. When Mama and Uncle came home, I did not feel very well at all, and had not wanted any of my food (if it came out of you the way it came out of me, you would not want to put any more in, either.) This is very concerning for kitties. My humans got the carrier out (I know what that means, so I made my displeasure known. I usually go along with what the humans want, but this was a carrier.) Mama got me in fairly quickly, and then we went outside (it was cold) and then in the car. Anty had her fingers through the grate on the door so I could smell her and she could feel the warmth from my body. Mama drove through the dark while Uncle used his phone to check in with my Anty Kiara, who had recommended the emergency vet.

Vets are humans who help kitties (and dogs; there were a lot of dogs in the waiting room. That was scary, because some of them were big.) and they helped me right away. The vet tech gave me a bath, even though I did not say that she could (Mama said she could, though, so that is why.) because I had a poopy butt. They poked me with needles and took some blood, which I also did  not like, but  that is  how humans help kitties who are sick. Some of the needles gave me liquids, because I was dehydrated, and some of the needles gave me medicine. The vet gave my humans other medicine to give me, and then my humans took me home. I ran out of the carrier right away and hid under Anty and Uncle’s bed. The humans offered me food, but I was not yet interested in it.

i1035 FW1.1

Anty says I am very pretty after my bath.

This is the best part next. I am starting to feel better, and food is looking interesting again. The vet said I could  have people baby food if I would eat it (I will not. I feel sorry for people babies that have to eat that stuff. No, thank you.) My Anty Kara, who has kitties of her own, and helps kitties who do not yet have humans, said that I could have tuna juice. A human Anty went to school with when she was an almost grownup said the same thing, so Anty went to the food store and got me people baby food, people tuna and a different kind of cat food with gravy in it. My regular food does not have gravy in it, because my vet where we used to live said that can make kitties like me fat. (I do not know if she understands I am a Maine Coon and I am supposed to be bigger than non-Coons.)

Anty put all the food she had bought on the floor in front of me, to see if I was interested in anything. I looked straight at the can of tuna. It was sealed and she had to get the can opener, but I let her know that was what I wanted. She tried the baby food first, because its cap screwed off. Meh. Tuna, Anty. It was hard to get the can open, because our can opener is older than me, but she did it, and put the juice in my dish. I loved it. I ate a little bit of tuna and asked for more. Then I ate some of my treat that was still in my dish. Then I had more food. Then I puked it all up, and Anty cleaned it. Anty knows a lot of bad words, but she was not angry at me; nobody likes cleaning throwup.

I still throw up a little when I eat, but most of it stays down, and Anty says I am acting more like myself. I am up to writing this blog entry, so that is something. Anty gets to cuddle me when she holds me so Mama can squirt medicine in my mouth. Then they tell me I am a good girl, but I already knew that, because they tell me all the time. I am feeling a lot better and can once again function as Anty’s mews. That is a good thing, because she has writing to do.

Last night, she recapped the season premiere of Sleepy Hollow, for Heroes and Heartbreakers. It is here and looks like this:

Ichabbies3

That is about it for this week, as it is time for my nap, and Anty needs the computer. She also is looking forward to picking up her new phone this weekend, so that she can take pictures of me on Instagram again. She was very concerned about me this week, but now that I am getting better, it is time to pay attention to writing again.

Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Mandatory Midweek Post

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I want to know that there’s something just beyond MY ability, that I can eek (sic) out one day that can move people like I’ve been moved.

–Ben Folds

I’m grumpy today. Kitty with tummy trouble will do that to a gal, and coming on the tails of a Monday and a half, especially with a gorgeously cool and rainy day that I would love to spend reading, especially (yes, two especiallies in one sentence; it’s that kind of day, and it’s my blog, so hush) now that we have a comfy cushion on our windowseat, the temptation to give this day a certain digit and slack off is strong.

Here’s why I’m not. In a word, discipline. I am the first one to turn into a whimpering ball of jelly when I look at the publication date on my most recent book. I am also the one in charge of the publication date for my next one. I have a novella scene due to my collaborator tomorrow, so I need to get that down today, at least the bare bones. I can do the bare bones, even when I’m grumpy and have one eye on kitty doings. Not consciously drawing on Anne Lamott’s one inch picture frame, but it’s similar.

Organizing and making lists works incredibly well for me. I don’t have to write the entire book today. Shoot, I’m only writing part of the book, because Collaborator Melva kicks writing butt and we are so much on the same page (pun intended) that it’s scary. It doesn’t have to be perfect. If I’m off, she’ll tell me, and we’ll fix it, together. What it has to be is written. That’s it. Bullet points are fine. Present tense is fine. I can fix bad, but I can’t fix blank. (Thank you, Nora Roberts, for that one.)

“Do what you can do, when you can do it,” is  a phrase I learned while caregiving, and it applies to writing as well. Life is going to happen. Cats are going to throw up, phones are going to go to the great charging station in the sky, and grumpy days are going to happen. These are the times I like to focus on what I can do, rather than what I can’t, or haven’t, or didn’t. One of the items on my bare bones to do list was write today’s blog entry. I had nothing when I started, unless fretting pet-aunt mode was an option  (on a writing blog, it usually isn’t) and Skye is currently hanging out in her regular rainy day spot under the bed in the master bedroom. She has a bowl of water, and I’ll keep an eye on her. The other eye has to be on the writing.

This isn’t my favorite entry. I’m blabbering, but it’s honest. It’s where I am. That’s something I’m working on strengthening, in both fiction and nonfiction. I have Ben Folds’ new album playing, a mix of his usual music and a symphonic orchestra (my love for pop/rock combined with an orchestra knows no bounds, really it doesn’t) because his work is always good for jump-starting my own. Getting to those deep emotions and the insecurities characters like to hide from the world, because those are things that will prove them weak, get them rejected, make them vulnerable. Those are my jams. I love that stuff. In romance, I can throw basically anything at my characters, as long as they end up happy and together at the end. Since I write historical, that means I can use wars and natural disasters and political upheaval, and all of that ready made good stuff to cause bumps in the road to Happily Ever After.

Being a character focused writer means that I can play with the voices in my head when I don’t know what we’re going to be doing today. That’s a good jumpstart again. If I don’t know how they’d react to X, then that means I don’t know them well enough, most likely, and we are going to need to have some tea and a good long talk, them and me. We’ll get through it. Bullet point by bullet point. There will be another day when I blaze through multiple scenes without breaking a sweat. Taking this day for what it is, doing what I can, and then refilling the well is the best way to get to that new release, the next article, and hey, look right there. I wrote a blog entry. Cross that puppy off the list and let’s get back to that novella scene.

Monday Junior

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Focus on writing the story you want to tell. Don’t worry about how many words, what genre, and especially about people who tell you that you will never make it. They’re not important. Finish the thing and try to do your story justice.

–Ilona Andrews

 

Today  is Tuesday, but I am calling it Monday Junior this week. To best explain this, here is a short rundown of my Monday evening:

  • hit same place on head on corner of shelf and corner of dresser, in two separate incidents.
  • found a bug in my crushed pineapple, and remembered, hours later, that this serving had been broken down from a bigger container earlier, so I did at one point eat half a can of pineapple that had a bug in it.
  • decided to make tea to counteract the buggy pineapple, only to have tea infuser open (this may be because the kitchen light was out, we have prewar ceilings and no ladder) and float my last bit of Earl Grey throughout the water. Tea dumped, because now not drinkable.
  • Real Life Romance Hero  washed my mug (into which I had flung aforementioned bug) which I used to make that cup of tea, which had to be dumped out, but I only found out there was still soap in it after I started drinking said tea.

It wasn’t a total waste, as today’s picture evidences. Real Life Romance Hero had received a gift card to a swanky restaurant near our apartment for his birthday a month and a half ago. Yesterday, we finally got a chance to put it into use. Got dressed in real Grownup People Who Eat in Swanky Restaurant Clothes and everything. Food was amazing, atmosphere was perfect, and we had the place to ourselves, so that made for a special afternoon. I went for a walk in the park to ponder over some current writing projects while Real Life Romance Hero watched the news, and came home, expecting a lovely evening of writing.

Insert maniacal laughter here. Normally, a pina colada sundae is the perfect cap to any day. I love pineapple. I love coconut. I love ice cream. Mush them all together, and we should have something special. Add a dead bug (though I suppose dead bug is better than live bug, but not by much) and we have the exact opposite effect. Bleh.Try and follow that up with a soothing cup of tea that fails, not once but twice. Surely, Tuesday has to be better.

i1035 FW1.1

Did I do that?

Well. I will start off by mentioning that Skye kitty puked at my feet while I was making my list of Monday horrors. It was not her first time today. She’s fine; it’s hairball season. This happened at the same time Housemate arrived several hours earlier than we expected her (always good to see her, and it is her house, too, but surprise factor was high) and RLRH, who had been sleeping in, rose at that exact moment, doubling the surprise factor for me, plus cat puke. I am about to give this day a jaunty salute and retreat into Sims 3 and adult coloring books.

Before the cat puke and flinging open of multiple doors at once, my Tuesday so far includes:

  • the two pens I normally keep in my computer bag, for specific purposes, are not in my computer bag, nor are they in my computer sleeve, and I have run out of logical places they could be, which leaves “lost” as the most likely suspect. Not earth-shattering, as they are easily obtained at Dollar Tree, and I am subbing Pilot Varsity fountain pens (there is something about subbing a fountain pen for a dollar store pen, but I am too Mondayed to examine that at present) but still enough to jangle in my current state.
  • Aforementioned festival of doors flinging open, with my opinion asked on a conversation whose topic completely eluded me.
  • New (additional, that is; Critique Partner Vicki is not going anywhere; I love and need  her and she can’t afford the blackmail, so she has to stick around) critique partner not only pinpointed specific issues with project she’s looking at with laser accuracy and helpful suggestions with which I totally agree can make this story So Much Better but also nailed the overall goal I’m going for in my writing, which I had not mentioned to her yet; reclaiming my melodrama, which I love and dearly miss, buried under should and expectations and nonwriting concerns.

This last one is where I’m going to focus, because it’s a good place and an uncomfortable place. It’s good because this is what I want, this getting back in touch with my natural voice and working those writing muscles until they give me some resistance, which is the signal that they are getting stronger. Uncomfortable, because, well, change is uncomfortable. Resistance is uncomfortable. Looking at what we could do better and where we’ve fallen short is uncomfortable. It’s also a necessary step in the journey, and, sometimes, we need to tread that particular path more than once.

So, on a day when I’d hoped to make up for the day before, (though I did get some work done before RLRH and I had our adventure) instead, I’m digging up bones, fleshing out, refining, reexamining, restoring, tearing down and building up until what’s on the page is what’s in my head. My characters deserve that. My readers deserve that. I deserve that. In that perspective, all the crud is worth what it takes to go through, to make the best possible story and the best possible me. Remind me of that when I grumble, okay?

Typing With Wet Claws: Autumnal Equinox Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This has been a big week. Anty is okay, even after the bulletin board fell on her head. That is not the reason they did not want her at jury duty, but she did get a blog entry out of it, so that is one good thing. She still has not put it back up yet. She will need Uncle’s help and input first, and she will probably take everything off and start all over, anyway. She was not working on specific things (apart from the time travel, which was already a mess by then) when she put the board up, and she is working on different projects now.

Since the Autumnal Equinox has arrived, it is now officially fall. That is Anty’s favorite season (but when winter comes, that will be her favorite, too) and the time of year when she gets her super powers back. Her super powers mainly  (or Maine Coon-ly, because I am a Maine Coon and also her mews) involve telling stories. I think those are very good super powers. Life would be very boring without stories. Now that fall is here, the leaves are starting to turn colors, the air is crisper, the weather is cooler, and the sun sets earlier. Anty sometimes phrases this as “the darkness returns” and follows that with a creepy laugh. She also likes that skull themed things are much more easily available and stocks up now for her year round needs.

This is also the time of year that new TV shows come back, and sometimes, Anty writes about them for Heroes and Heartbreakers. This week, The Big Bang Theory came back, and Anty recapped it. The post is here and it looks like this:

Dr. and Mrs. Hofstadter request the honor of your presence...

Dr. and Mrs. Hofstadter request the honor of your presence…

Anty is also looking forward to writing about Sleepy Hollow when it comes back, and also writing about books and other articles, but what she loves writing the most in fall (or any other sesason) is historical romance (and historical adjacent romance, but that is another topic.) With jury duty and some other things this week, Anty had a rough couple of writing days, but, yesterday, she packed up her computer and some legal pads and went to the Panera across the street from the hospital and settled in for the long haul. That means a few hours, in Anty time. She got a cookie, which meant she was there to get down to some serious business.

This is Anty's serious writing business face. Please note pen in mouth and staring off into places that only exist in her head.

This is Anty’s serious writing business face.

If you see Anty with this expression (pen in mouth is a good giveaway) it is best to put down the gummi bears and back away slowly. If you do not have gummi bears, go get some, then put them down and back away slowly. This expression means she is facing down that point in the story where a perfectly good scene has stopped and won’t get moving again. She hates those scenes, and, yesterday, she was faced with two of them, at the same time.

Anty likes to work on more than one project at a time, because switching between them keeps her energized. If one is not working, she can work on the other, and then, by the time she is ready to go back to the first one, it usually has solved its own problem. If not, she can try something else. I think petting me is a good something else. Sometimes, she does, too, but sometimes that means going for a walk or working on a different project.

For Anty, the best way to work out a story problem is to talk about it. Yesterday, she talked with Critique Partner Vicki in email about one sticky point, and found out she still does not know enough to write that scene. That irritated her, because she wants to write this book, and write it fast, but she also wants to write it well, so that means making sure that all the foundations are laid before she dives in and forges ahead. She has had too many books fizzle out because she doesn’t know what she is doing. This is one point where the gummi bears are useful. She cannot grumble if she has gummi bears in her mouth. Tea is also good for this, plus she can have hot tea again because it is fall, and look at the different colored leaves out the window. Soon, she will be able to swaddle herself in sweaters and hand mitts, which enhance her super powers.

At the same time Anty was online with Critique partner Vicki, she had one of her legal pads at hand, to free write about what was bothering her about the other scene. For Anty, free writing is like talking to herself on paper, and often helps her figure out what she is thinking when her mind is jumbled. In this case, she’d had a scene she wanted to write, but it would get to a certain point and stop. This frustrates her, but it is not a lost cause. What she has found works best is to go back to the last point the scene worked and make a different choice for what comes immediately after that. In this case, it meant taking out a character’s reaction that she liked a lot. It ought to work, and, in theory, it would, but when she got it on the page, everything ground to a halt. So, she deleted it. Maybe that deleted bit will end up elsewhere, but taking it out got things moving once again.

Anty feels better about moving forward with both projects today, and would like to get to that, so that is about it for me this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Beautiful Mess

annabowling Leave a comment

Before heading off to jury duty on Monday morning, I wanted to make a copy on my printer, but A) the printer jammed, and B) my bulletin board fell on my head. Literally.

Imagine this dropping on your cranium.

Imagine this dropping on your cranium.

For that one endless “what just happened here?” split second, I stood, bent over, stock still. Um, whut? Oh. Right. There is a big, heavy, flat object with pointy things sticking out of it on my head. I should probably move it. Which I did, and set it back atop my secretary desk, to lean it against the wall. The judicial system needed me (until it didn’t) and I had to be off, because Real Life Romance Hero and I had a bus to catch. Which we also did, and, to be honest, I hadn’t given the bulletin board that much thought since then, because jury duty and dead phone and errands and writing and critting and such. Today, though, I was determined not to whinge about my phone for two days in a row.

This board is vintage, and has been in place since the day we moved in, and I asked Real Life Romance Hero to remove the mirror that was already there, because I didn’t want to look at my own face all day while I wrote. (We will not mention my current penchant for my laptop’s camera; I had neither penchant nor laptop at the time.) So, up went the bulletin board, and, for the longest time, it had nothing on it, or precious little. I’d wanted the board to be packed full of inspiration, but, at that time, I was deep in my slump. Inspiration was basically nil. I put up some random crud. Wrappers from tea bags, the front of a tea box (hey, I like tea.) Greeting cards from friends? Sure. (Note: I love getting snail mail and cherish such, from friends old or new.) Pretty pins that aren’t even holding anything? Eh, why not?  My printer at the time was down, so no way to print new things that reflected what was really going on inside my skull, even if a lot (okay, most) of it was an incomprehensible jumble that wasn’t producing much.

The only intentional item on the board from its original incarnation is this:

I *will* write Angus and Summer's story at some point. Still in the resting phase at the moment.

I *will* write Angus and Summer’s story at some point. Still in the resting phase at the moment.

The central image of this partially-printed printout of a collaged folder is most of the inspiration image for the original form of the time travel romance that has been, at various points, Endless Summer, Wild Highland Waltz, and a couple of other things. It was originally-originally The Boys of Summer, after the Don Henley song and video that was part of the impetus for the original idea. A more marketable title would probably be something along the lines of MacLaren’s Lady, but Summer would hate that, and she is a strongly opinionated character. She’d probably kick butt in a postapocalyptic story, but Angus is definitely a man of his time (16th century Scotland) so I have no idea what the final form of their true story will end up being, but I do know that they will get their HEA, once they’re done simmering. Trying to write too soon, before I know my story people and their world as fully as I need is a bad habit I a currently learning how to break. Angus and Summer are only resting, probably burning off some bad juju, or letting some voices that didn’t need to be in my head, evaporate.

Inspiration and reminders...

Inspiration and reminders…

Current bunch of stuff in the middle of the board is two of those random things, and a printout of a calendar page by my all time favorite romance illustrator, Elaine Duillo. Illustration is also the cover of one of those amazing lush historicals that fuel my fire, but author and title are escaping me at present. The figures remind me so much of my own current hero and heroine, though, that it had to go up, and counts as the first intentional addition to the board since its inception. Go, me.

Two smaller piece of paper are quotes. Purple paper’s quote says “The perfect is the enemy of the good,” and is by Voltaire. Cream paper’s quote says, “You’re in the factory. Make the product,” and is more of a nomad, coming from (please correct me if I’m wrong) Chuck Wendig, filtered through K.A. Mitchell, filtered through me.  I won’t go into the minutiae of who, exactly, said what, exactly, but what stuck with me enough to write it down and put it on my board is,  “You’re in the factory. Make the product.” The product here, in my case, is historical romance novels.

Mission statement-ish.

Mission statement-ish.

Page from my much-loved paper mousepad bears two descriptions of the way I want to be viewed as a writer. Top entry came out of Barbara Samuel’s class on writer’s voice, and the other came from my own head some time later, because having only those three lines on that big paper bothered me. To save any squinting:

Complex, intelligent, lushly detailed historical romance that packs an emotional punch
(the “intelligent” being the instructor’s addition, and was not in my original answer to the prompt)

and

“Strong heroes, strong heroines, and a romance worthy of history.”

Either one of those would be amazing review. To get one, however, I need to A) promote my current backlist, and 2) keep writing new books and getting them out there.

Some days, the work comes easy. Some days, the work comes hard. Some days, we literally get hit over the head with reminders of why we’re in this writing business in the first place.

Return of the Robot Revolution

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Today, you’re getting what my computer sees, and Monday morning’s post on Tuesday afternoon, because this has already started to shape up as quite a week. I’ll give you a brief tour. Feel free to grab your own beverage, because I know I need mine.

Monday was jury duty, my first time in NY, though I’d been called more times in CT than anybody I know (in any state, actually.) I was not selected, so you get me this week, after all. I’d meant to get this blog up in the morning, but then I noticed the laundry was three steps away from becoming sentient, so trip to the Laundromat was in order. I like to bring my phone with me so I can stay current on email and do some research or check favorite sites (Spotify, I ❤ you) but that only works if the phone does.

I need to back up here, to Sunday. I’d been in the park, stopped on a bench to check my messages, and the phone went dark. Not what it was meant to do, as I’d left the house with a full charge. Okay, no big deal. Go back home and charge it, only darned thing wouldn’t take a charge. Maybe it’s the charger? I tried Real Life Romance Hero’s charger, tried Housemate’s charger, tried my tablet’s charger, and more, until the grand total was six. Nothing. This warrants trip to the phone store. Not my favorite place, and I was already anxious, so yeah, fun. Phone Dude fiddled with phone, it worked fine, so, okay. Worked fine again on Monday, useful for checking in with Real Life Romance Hero and letting him know how things were going. Worked fine Monday night and most of Tuesday morning.

So, back to Laundromat today, checking mail, and…phone goes dark again. Try to power on or off, nothing. Ahem. I have been this way before. Run phone home (I live kitty corner to the Laundromat) to stick it in charger, grab tablet, back to Laundromat. Head back to phone store after laundry is done, Phone Dude II fiddles with the battery, and all is well. Great. Time for lunch with Housemate. While Housemate is obtaining food, I stake out table in food court, and check my…wait a minute, we just fixed this. Double ahem.

Back to phone store, and deal with Phone Dude III. Phone Dude III could put us in queue for Phone Dude II, who is the one allowed to poke around phone guts, but that would be at least two hours wait. Nope. There is an alternative, Phone Dude IV, a few minutes down the road. Fine. Nothing to lose, so off Housemate and I go. Phone Dude IV agrees to poke around the phone guts. First job: test battery. Battery is fine. That’s good news. Phone, however, seems to be pining for the fjords, so options seem to be A) purchase new phone, or B) send phone back to Phone People, let them fix it and send it back. This decision will be made in a bit, as my to do list tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me there is still writing and critting to be done, so off again.

I’d wanted to have all that work done by this part of the day, not only be starting on it, but I have my list on Habitica, and my party is on a quest, so darned if I am going to be the reason we take any hits. For me, accountability works extremely well, and if the rest of my party is counting on me to do all this stuff, then I am going to do it, no matter how long it takes. Call it dedication or stubbornness or whatever; I know that’s how I’m wired. If I didn’t have a list others could see (at least I think they can see it; I know I can, and what I do contributes to the welfare of the party as a whole) I might say eh, it’s been an aggravating day; I’m curling up under a blankey, making tea and diving into a good book.

That last part, I am doing. Sort of. Review novella installment from collaborator, crit Critique Partner Vicki’s new chapter, and then hit the story points I’ve listed for the projects of the day. So, not an entire loss, and I did get a blog entry out of the deal. Still crabby, though, because I like my phone and I am going to be itchy without it until things are resolved. I am, now, more than ever, convinced that I somehow repel electronics. Maybe they’re allergic to me? Is it because I write historicals? Because I love notebooks more than a sane person should? Be honest, electronics, I can take.it.

Typing With Wet Claws: Have to go Through It Edition

annabowling 1 Comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This has been an interesting week, but then again, they always are. Otherwise, I would have nothing to write about, and that would not make Anty happy. She counts on me to take care of Friday posts for her, which I am happy to do, because I am a very devoted kitty. I do an excellent job of following my humans around the apartment and sitting in the worst (they say worst, but I think they really mean best) places, right in their paths, to show them how much I love them and want to be wherever they are. Also, if they have to go past or over me, that means they will see me and remember it is time to feed me. It is always time to feed me, because I have a special food schedule. I eat little bits throughout the day. My humans tried giving me only breakfast and dinner, but I was not okay with that. I prefer things my way.

That is something Anty and I have in common. Tailoring the way things “should” be done to the way they actually work can be a very good thing. Like with me. Because of my special paws, I do not climb or jump (but do not worry, I am fine. I can walk and run and play -I love to bat crumpled paper around the hardwood floor- like any other kitty.) so using a litterbox is confusing for me. Anty, Uncle and Mama do not ask me to do that. Instead, I have my pee spot and a couple of poop spots (I have to give them some variety, don’t I? Plus, I don’t like to poop when people are watching.) and always let them know when I did something, so they can clean it right away. No predators have found us yet, so I think it is safe to say my plan is working. You are welcome.

Anyway, Anty has found this is very true in reading and writing, as well as my personal habits. By going with her gut in her reading preferences, she has found she is reading more, like she wanted to be, and does not feel all that pressure to keep up with current releases. Not that she is not abreast (that is my vocabulary word for the day) of current publishing trends and news; she likes knowing what is going on in the market, very much. She is checking the mailbox daily for Romantic Times Book Reviews, so she can see what is going on this month. wwRight now, she is reading a mix of realistic Young Adult novels and classic historical romances. She wishes Goodreads had a classifier for rereading, because that would make updating her status a lot easier. It also would be nice if it did not show books she has already read as books she is still reading, because that bothers her.

I have digressed. Anty is working on a post about how she uses sticky notes, part of which will require her to get out her plotting board. That is fun and scary at the same time. Fun, because she will get to play with sticky notes and move things around. Scary, because then people will see what she is doing and they might not like how she is doing it. Maybe they will not like her. I try to tell her that is okay. Uncle and Mama and I will still love her, but she is a writer human, and prone to these insecurities. Maybe she will make a picture with Scapple, because then she can draw lines between the boxes. She cannot do that with her plotting board, but she could, if she had a white board. She used to have a white board (but it was not white; it was a picture of white clouds in a blue sky) but I do not think it made it with us during the move. She will figure it out.

This week, Anty has had another article on XOJane.com, this time about what it was like to take care of her papa, her own anty, and Uncle at the same time. I do not remember any of that, because I was not born yet, so I cannot tell you anything that is not in the article. It is here and looks like this:

xojane

Anty did not think she would like writing personal experience articles -she is a fiction writer, after all- but she does, and plans on writing more of them. It is kind of like blogging, only more people read it, and publisher humans give her money, which she can turn into cat food. Or maybe other things, like notebooks or maybe another computer, but I think she should get the cat food first. It is important. One important thing Anty has learned from writing these articles is to dive deeper into the emotions. Picking what details to share (Uncle says she has left out a lot of the good parts, but Anty reminds him there is a word count she has to respect with these things.) This means reworking some things in the historical, that she has already written, which does not make her happy, even though she knows it will be best for the book and the characters.

Although Anty would really prefer to have the whole book come from her head to the page, perfectly, the first time, she is coming to understand it does not work like that. The process of writing, like the process of caregiving, or cleaning out her papa’s house, is something Anty has to go through, to get to the other side. If that means making a big mess first, then that is what she will have to do. It is okay. I still love her. And cat food. I love cat food.

Speaking of writing, Anty has to do that now, so she will need the computer, which means that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain,

Very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Wednesday Night Blabber

annabowling 2 Comments

Some days require a lot of gummi bears. I have some gummi bears. Make of that what you will.

I’ve started this entry multiple times, tried some inspirational quotes, erased them, started again, more times than I am comfortable confessing, but it’s Wednesday, and Wednesday’s post needs to go up, because discipline is important. I need the structure. Without it, I’m going to wander off and spend the entire afternoon rearranging my TBWI crates. That’s To Be Written In, which means notebooks, and yes, I have more than one. If the zombie apocalypse does come, I will be all set when it comes to notebooks, but I will also probably be the one who leads the raiding party on the Moleskine store in NYC. I have my priorities.

:time warp:

7:37 PM

Still Wednesday. That is a good thing. I’ve recently joined Habitica, which combines two of my favorite things: list-making and gaming. I am in serious Sims withdrawal, due to the moribund nature of my old laptop, the inability of new laptop to handle the game, (which is okay, as she was purchased to be a writing machine in the first place) and still planning on a desktop that I can use for gaming. Sims Freeplay is fun on my phone, but it’s not a game-game, and I am feeling the lack. Okay, back to the point. Normally, I would say that some days, the stuff doesn’t come, oh well, go watch Ink Master and give myself a break. Still sound advice, but…I’m in a party, and when we all meet our goals, we all reap the benefits, and when one of us falls behind, we all feel that as well. Or that’s how I understand it. I’m still new. At any rate, being accountable to others gives me the push to knuckle down and get it done. It’s still the same day, I know how to write, so this can still happen.

Real Life Romance Hero texted me from the park during this writing session that wasn’t. I asked him to come hang out. He suggested we play hooky and let the brain free-float, in hopes things will fall into place. It seems to have done the trick. A change in perspective, some filling of the creative well, and we’re back in business. Also, there are fireworks. I do not know why there are fireworks, but I am highly in favor of fireworks I can see from my comfy chair.

Picture above is what my computer sees most days. Me, staring both at the screen and at the story world (for fiction) or into the recesses of my own mind (for nonfiction. Pen in mouth is optional, but earphones are not. Notebook is at hand for the scribbling down of miscellany, making lists and crossing things off as I complete them. Some days, the words come faster than I can get them down, and my fingers tangle, trying to stay current. Other days, like this one, they need to be wooed, with seasonally appropriate beverages, the occasional baked good, a walk in the park, maybe go out for a movie, curl up with a good book, or listen to the same song on repeat for an hour or so. Possibly some abstract doodling.

It’s different every time. Which, in retrospect, is probably a good thing. This may be a late night, and that is okay. I’d rather get things done earlier in the day, but, today, that’s not what happened. Today was a full house day, with errands to run. Tomorrow will have a more normal work schedule for everyone, including myself. In the meantime, adapting is, if not always fun, a challenge. What do I need that I don’t have? Do I not know the characters well enough? Did I hit a historical snag? Is the tone of the piece wrong? Do I need more gummi bears? (Okay, that one is almost always yes.) Maybe I need to go to the movies; not merely watching a DVD, but immersing myself in the whole experience, popcorn and coming attractions and all. Come to think of it, the answer to that one is almost always also yes.

So there we are. still Wednesday, I’ve had time with Real Life Romance Hero, and also with Housemate, devoured dinner, now checking things off my list with Master Chef on the TV and evening emails to answer. Not the best or most profound entry, but, as Real Life Romance Hero reminded me earlier, they can’t all be gold. But they do have to be written. That, I can do.