Author: annabowling

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

annabowling Leave a comment

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.

Inside (and Outside) My All Purpose Notebook

annabowling 4 Comments

Art is about honesty. It’s about an individual’s expression of her own, unique vision. You don’t tell another adult what she sees. She stands at a different vantage point from you.

–Judith Ivory

First hot tea of the season at my favorite coffee house, all purpose notebook in my computer tote is going to need reinforcing with packing tape (which will then need distressing, because packing tape, while sheer, is also crazy shiny, and I  may give myself eyestrain merely looking at the taped cover. Using this notebook has taught me two important things: One) I love the smooth, unlined paper in PaPaYa! (the exclamation point is part of the name) notebooks, and, Two) cahier style notebooks are not made for sticking in computer totes if one does not want serious wear on the covers of said notebooks.

For those who are new to Typing With Wet Nails, notebooks, for me, are Serious Business. When I find one I like, I hold onto it, get others of its kind, and, as soon as humanly possible (unless there is a natural waiting period, as there sometimes is) figure out exactly what I want to use that particular book for, what sorts of inks, in what colors, go with it, and if it’s going to be in my purse, tote, next to my chair, bedside table, etc.  It’s both an art and a science. I have gone so far as to seal a notebook in a Ziplock baggie full of baking soda for a week in order to save the book from permanent damage from what we shall call pet odor. So, really, there are not a lot of things I won’t do to preserve a notebook. As with this one.

cover scuffage

cover scuffage

Keeping an all purpose notebook, for me, is essential. While I have several notebooks, each dedicated to a particular project, the all purpose book is the workhorse of the bunch, travelling with me every day from house to Laundromat to coffee house, on the road, etc. I like the cahier style for portability -slim, light, I can bend the cover backward an flex it in my hand when I need to fidget. The gorgeous PaPaYa! art makes me drool, so this was a natural choice. I wasn’t sure, at first, that I was going to like the unlined pages, but they do elicit a different way of writing than lined or gridded pages, and I have come to accept that they have their place in my repertory company of notebooks.

The binder clip is a must. Notebooks coming open in purse or tote drive me bonkers. They have to be closed-closed, and stay that way until I open them. Binder clips work for either cahier style or spiral bound notebooks. The hardcover books I favor tend to have a built in elastic band and stay closed that way. As does the softcover Moleskine I have in reserve, a lovely teally turquoise number with very faintly dot-gridded pages. I haven’t tried that one yet, as it’s not yet that book’s time, but it will come when it comes.

Notes from CRRWA meeting with guest speaker Karen Rock

Notes from CRRWA meeting with guest speaker Karen Rock

Binder clips are also excellent for holding said cahiers open when I need to refer to a two page spread at once. Pages above are from Saturday’s CRRWA meeting, with guest speaker, Karen Rock, whose fabulous presentation on maintaining quality under deadlines is definitely pertinent to my interests. I picked up the tip about drawing a frame around an unlined page to make it less intimidating, which dramatically changed the way I use unlined pages. This also works on gridded pages. I haven’t tried it on dot gridded pages yet, but that will happen soon. The frequent changes of ink colors is a newer practice, but keeps my magpie brain happy. I used to change colors with only each session of writing in a particular notebook (unless it is a one pen only notebook – we will look at those later) but, recently, I’ve started changing colors with each topic which my brain has apparently taken as a signal to go faster.

20150914_152851~2

Sticky notes are a must, in any notebook, and yes, they do need to be color coordinated. Artist’s kid here. Color palettes are important. If the colors don’t agree, I feel restless. For a long time, I thought this was being picky, but it’s part of the way I work. If the colors work together, my brain is at peace and I can concentrate. The all purpose pen I have with this notebook is a promo pen, picked up at a conference. It’s clicky, which is good, but it’s also white. White goes with my laptop keys, and the cord from my headphones for the laptop, but I recently rescued a pink promotional pen from an already filled spiral bound notebook, and that needs to be moved over, because pink pen goes with pink laptop, which goes with pinky purply cahier with pinky purply sticky notes inside it. Putting sticky notes directly in the notebook, permanently on a page so that I can get them directly there and not have to fish around in my purse or tote for same, is another game changer. Choosing what stickies go with what notebook helps me bond with the book, as well as makes it easier to employ said notes. I employ a lot of them.

One of the things I like best about having an all purpose notebook is the freedom to jump in and muck around, do whatever feels natural at the time, whether it’s drawing frames on the page, or switching inks, figuring out where the sticky notes go, how the paper feels, how it performs under heavy or light use, etc. I’m at a place where, rather than trying to chase down a method that works for me, I’m going to do what I do, and, when I’m done, figure out how I did it. The fact that it means I get to play around with pretty paper onto which I throw my brain droppings is a plus.

Typing With Wet Claws: Ancient Art of Ti-ming Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello all, Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This week has gone by very fast, and a lot of interesting things happened. I will tell you about some of them. On Saturday, Anty spent most of the day getting ready for our company on Sunday. I have never seen her haul an entire bookcase through the apartment before, but, on Saturday, she did. The bookcase did not put up much of a fight. I think it knew Anty meant business. She put the bookcase in her office (which I still do not go into, if you are keeping track of these things) and then took a bunch of books from a cardboard bookcase (like they have in stores; Anty used to work in a bookstore, and they let her take some of the cardboard bookcases home so she could store her books in them) and spent some time arranging the books in it. There are still some spaces, which she will fill with books from the storage unit, when she can go back to where we used to live and retrieve them. Playing with her books makes Anty very happy. So does reading them, which she is doing when she has time.

She does not have a lot of time. Besides blogging here (I help her out by taking Fridays for her) Anty also writes a weekly discussion post for Buried Under Romance and writes about romance novels and tells people who kissed on TV (the start of the new season will be busy for her, I think. Lots of TV people kiss when new seasons start) at Heroes and Heartbreakers, and she sold her second article to XOJane.com. That is like a magazine on the computer. It is the same place where she wrote her article about clearing out her papa’s house. This article will be about what it was like to take care of three grownup humans when they were all very sick at the same time. This happened before me, as I was not even born yet, so I cannot make any comments. The family kitty at the time was Olivia, who went to Rainbow Bridge. I came home three days later, because the family needed a kitty really really badly, and I needed a forever home. I think it is working out well.

Telling people things that really happened is not Anty’s main focus, though. What she loves the most is making up stories. Right now, she is working on two books, one by herself and one with my Anty Melva. She has not had a chance to do much on the book she is writing by herself this week, which does make her cranky, but she is happy because Anty Melva put together the chapters on the book they are writing together, and they are ahead of schedule. Anty figures she will do better on the other book soon and is trying not to stress about it.

This is what Cranky Anty looks like. It is fearsome.

This is what Cranky Anty looks like, in case you have forgotten. I never will.

Another thing that is taking some time this week is that Uncle needs to see some more people vets. Anty has to go with him. I assume she has to help get him in the carrier and make sure he does not bite. I do not think he will need a cone of shame, but one never knows. Anty is glad to be there for him, and she is also glad that the pharmacy where she gets his pills sells gummi bears. That may be one of the reasons she goes. If she has gummi bears, she is less cranky. If she looks like the picture above when you see her, please give her gummi bears and do not make any sudden movements. Playing Snow Patrol should also work. Or Tired Pony.  Basically, anything with Gary Lightbody in it. “This Isn’t Everything You Are” is Anty’s favorite song of ever, so that should work best.

Anty loves the video, too, and is only slightly freaked out that this video was released when she was first working on her time travel with a ballroom dancer heroine. That book has to rest for a while, because Anty got far too confused writing it and went down too many dead ends to keep on going the way it was. She still loves that story and especially those characters, but it was not the right time for that book to happen. Something was not right, though she does not know what the root of that could be. Too many other humans put in their ideas (she is still trying to figure out why one human could not understand why there were historical parts in a time travel. Even I know what time travel means, and I am a kitty.) so that Anty could not get to hers anymore. That was sad, but it is not over yet; the learning process is still underway.

One of the things Anty loves about the video for her favorite song is, besides the dancing, that there are a lot of different stories going on at one time. The three verses are each their own story, but each pair of dancers shown have their own stories, too. She likes the grittiness and the sadness mixed with the encouragement to hang in there, all things that are true in her book as well. Finding out what she likes, specifically, about things she likes, in general, and why she likes them, is very interesting to Anty, and helps her figure out how to tell her own stories, better. If you think it would be fun, watch the video and then leave a comment about what stands out about it to you. Anty would love to know.

It is about time to get Uncle ready for the people vet (Anty may try putting some bacon in the carrier to see if he will go in on his own) so 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…

PS – “the ancient art of ti-ming” phrase is from  a very funny human named Steve Martin. Anty did not make it up, but she did remember it.

Back to Old School Season

annabowling Leave a comment

Last night, the power went out. Twice. The night was sweltering hot, the rest of the family had sequestered themselves in their rooms, hot and cranky, leaving only me out in the living room. My plan was to watch Ink Master (which I am not sure even recorded, but there’s always On Demand, right?) and write, but BAM, the big dark. The box fan went out. College kids (we live in what’s termed the student ghetto, as our neighborhood hosts multiple institutions of higher learning) whooped and hollered, and one fine citizen decided that was the perfect time to shoot off fireworks. Really? Why do you have fireworks in September, sir or madam? Waiting for exactly this sort of event? Can’t make this stuff up, and, being a writer, that’s kind of my job.

So, anyway, there I am, in the dark, faced with a giant shift in plans for the evening. I don’t have tattoos myself (and can’t, medically, as I have eczema, which does not play nicely with tattoo ink) but I find the art form fascinating, so tattoo shows are must-see television for me. Ink Master is my favorite. This season is masters vs. apprentices, which I think is an interesting concept, especially how each pair handles the competition. For my money, if I were the master and my apprentice surpassed me, I would consider that proof I had done my job well. The student should surpass the teacher, IMO, at some point. That’s how we improve.

Which is where we’re going with this, today. After batting around some email conversations with writer friends, I dragged the window seat cushion onto the floor, filled my travel mug with ice water and settled in beneath the living room window, to hug an ice pack and have a good think. I would have written this out if there had been any light to speak of, but there wasn’t, so I’ll get it down here.

The office overhaul has brought a few different things to mind, notably my reading habits of late. While I do have that lovely TBR shelf above, where my brain and heart keep going is over two shelves, to the recently unearthed classics in their new case. Valerie Sherwood, Laurie McBain, Anita Mills, Barbara Hazard…I have  missed those gals and the stories they told. Not all of them would appeal to the modern reader, but they have stuck with me over the years, and in some cases, decades. The question is, why? What grabs me that strongly, for that long? Good questions, and there’s only one way to find the answers. Study the masters. I’d say mistresses, as, with the exception of Jennifer Wilde (who was Tom E. Huff in his private life) these books were written mostly by women (though Laurie McBain relied on her father’s input, and Valerie Sherwood thanked her husband, Eddie, for his role) I’m reluctant to use the term “mistress” in this context. Whole different profession there.

There hasn’t been a lot of reading time lately, but, once I started my reread of Call Back the Dream, I noticed I was approaching a few things differently. Right before the lights went out, I’d sneak-read a chapter in the bathroom. Haven’t done that in ages, but I used to do that all the time, when I couldn’t wait to dive back into the world of long-ago lovers. There was what we’d call head hopping today (I’m not going to go into putting modern standards of writing onto writers who worked when conventions were different, as that was how things were done then, so shushies) but the details…wow. I felt like I was seated at that table in the vicarage, having dinner with the heroine’s family. Each sibling, both parents and even their lone servant were distinctly painted characters, and no, they do not all get their own book. Sometimes, supporting characters are just supporting characters, and that’s okay.

I’ve read this book before, and will read it again. There’s the delicious sense of anticipation, because I know what Camille is going to find in a certain spot by the stream, but she doesn’t know that, and neither she nor Alexander have any idea what that spot is going to mean to them, or how long it’s going to take before they can claim the HEA that they might have had that much sooner if a few things had been even the slightest bit different.

Different. That’s the word. I love the historical romance genre; that’s what I live and breathe, what I’ve read and written since I was but a wee princess myself. I love that there is something for everyone, and I love that I do have these books from the era of my reading career that fires my blood, in which I see myself and the stories I have to tell. That’s in both senses of the word; one, that I possess them, and two, that I need to release them into the wild. I want the bigger stories. I want the variety of historical settings and eras, and people who think, act, speak, believe and comport themselves as people of their time. Not so much textbook-strict accuracy but versimiilitude. Could it have happened? If so, bring it on. Even so, I’m not writing a textbook, and I’m not writing fictionalized biographies. I’m writing historical romance. The love story has to be as important as the world in which it takes place, and it has to be done in such a way that it could not have happened at any other place or time.

The best way for me to learn how to do this is to see how it’s been done, and them replicate it, in my own voice. Which means I’ll be reading through these keepers, balancing the classic romances with newer editions and learning from both, to make something entirely new. Teacher may be a strict one in this class I’m making for myself, but at least I’ll know attendance will be one hundred percent.

Post Labor Day Rambles and Georgian Unciorn Chow

annabowling Leave a comment

Monday’s post on Tuesday does not count as late if Monday was a holiday. Not sure if a holiday counts as such if it’s as disgustingly hot as this one was, but I got to spend Sunday with my good friend, Mary W, and her hubby :waves hi: so that definitely gets holiday points.

In preparation for the visit (and because it had long since fallen into ‘high time’ territory) I hauled a mostly unused bookcase into my office and busted my special keepers out of the storage box where they’d been since the big move and got them out on display.

Shelfie!

Shelfie!

Getting these old favorites out of mothballs and out where they can see them gave me a jolt of energy. This is why I read and write romance. If some of these books look well-read, it’s because they are, studied as much as read for pleasure. Those Valerie Sherwood books? Saved my bum in a pre-Revolutionary history final in college, where I needed to detail the contributions of three ethnic groups other than the English, that were essential to the survival of the colonies on an economic level. First two that came to mind were easy; indigenous and African, one group here already, and the other not here by choice, but both contributed much. Then my mind skidded to a halt. Sure, I’d studied, but could I remember any of that? Nope, what my brain wanted to  hang onto was that scene in Bold Breathless Love, where the heroine escapes her abusive husband by ice boat on the Hudson Riv…waaaaait a minute. Creepy abusive husband dude was Dutch, and so was the ice boat, and ice skating, and those were pretty darned useful, because otherwise, there is zero river commerce during the winter months, and then how are we going to get goods from producer to consumer, hm? Ice, ice, baby. Bonus points for those who know the legal name of the gentleman who popularized that phrase is Robert Van Winkle.

There’s a lot to be said for getting in touch with one’s bookish roots, and it’s a practice I highly recommend. Though I haven’t been reading a lot of current historical romances lately, merely seeing these books on shelves made my reader heart go pitter-pat. I want to reread that one and that one and that one, and ooh, that one. The array of settings and eras here dazzled me then, and it still does. 19th century Russia? English Civil War and Restoration? Georgian England? Colonial America? Yes, yes, yes and yes. This is a shelf full of unicorn chow, and I couldn’t be happier to have it out in the open again.

The book I’m holding in today’s picture is Call Back the Dream, by Barbara Hazard. It’s the first book I ever wrote a fan letter after reading, and I still remember being gobsmacked when Ms. Hazard actually sent back a personal reply. Not light reading, by any stretch of the imagination, and those brave enough to crack that gorgeous Elaine Duillo cover are going to need Kleenex and possibly counseling, because man oh man, the emotions here, and they are directly dependent on the historical world in which Camille and Alexander, the lovers depicted in said illustration live.

No rubbing of elbows with the movers and shakers of the time, but two star crossed lovers from different classes that society has decreed do not mix. Camille is the daughter of a vicar, Alexander the son of an earl, and those readers with some familiarity with the way things worked in the middle of the eighteenth century know this is not going to be an easy road. It’s not, and that’s what makes it a darned good story. Marrying other people? Well, duh. Secrets and lies? Um, yeah. Matters Need to Be Dealt With because those crazy kids and their radical ideas do not jibe with the Way Things Are Done. There’s breeding to consider, in both senses of the world, and the road to happily ever after takes Camille and Alexander fifteen freaking years to traverse. Yeah, baby.

Make no mistake, they make it to their mountaintop, but there are Ramifications, which Ms. Hazard further explores in the sequel, The Heart Remembers, which puts Camille and Alexander’s natural son, Jack, in the spotlight, after he finds out the way his family tree is really rooted, and he does not take it well. I’ll be rereading that one after I reread Call Back the Dream. I did write Ms. Hazard back and ask if there was going to  be a third book, to bring certain events full circle, and, though she allowed I was right about certain things, wasn’t sure if the book would be written. To my knowledge, it has not, and, believe Ms. Hazard is not currently writing, unless it is under a pseudonym. If so, I want to know what it is, because I will read those books.

These books get unicorn chow points because, double-digit years after first reading them, I remember, vividly, specific scenes. Camille’s first appearance, doing laundry on a hot and humid day, the books (Pamela, by Samuel Richardson) Alexander left for Camille to read in secret, The Fire. Those who have read this book know what I mean, and those who haven’t, you’re in for a treat.

That’s the kind of book I want to produce, so that’s the kind of book I need to make sure I’m taking in, as often as possible. Reading these books reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing, and makes me want to do everything I can to earn my own books a space on that shelf. Ms. Hazard, wherever you are, I’m leaving a light on for you and setting a place at the table.

Typing With Wet Claws: Back to School Edition

annabowling 4 Comments

Hello all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is September now, even though it has been very hot all week, and will still be hot for a few more days. This is not ideal for those of us with built in full length fur coats, but Anty and Uncle assure me that things will cool down after that. I will remember they said that, in case they are wrong. If they are, I will give them baleful looks. I am very good at giving baleful looks. I practice by watching Anty when she is grumpy.

Anty is not grumpy right now, although she has her moments. It is back to school time for young humans, something we cannot ignore, as we live in a neighborhood where lots of almost-grown-up humans live while they go to school. Anty and Uncle met when they were almost-grown-up humans, in a school very far away, in a place called California, where it is summer all year long. I am glad they escaped. Anyway, the start of a new school year does not mean that only students get to learn new things. It is for everybody, as I am learning (see what I did there?) from things that are going on this week.

While Anty loves planning and organizing, sometimes she can get a little too into it and cross the line into micromanaging, which means nothing actually gets done. She is learning now that sometimes, stepping back and seeing where and how things would naturally happen can make planning how they should go, that much easier. Like today. Usually, Anty is all “go, go, go” from the minute she gets up. Wolf down breakfast while checking email and trying to cram too much into one day because things have to get done, pinpoint what she most wants to avoid…whoops, I was not supposed to say that part. Sorry.

Anyway, today is different, and I can take credit for part of that. This morning, I found a new place to pee, while Anty was in the bathroom. If you are new here, I should mention that I was born with special paws, which means I do not climb, which means I do not use a litterbox. I have a pee place, and that is normal for me. I do not often change it, but today, I did. Anty looked all over to see where I had peed, because it was not in my regular spot, but then she did find it. I had peed right in front of the bathroom door, on the linoleum. She said I was a very good girl because that would be easy to clean. While she was doing that, I pooped, also on the linoleum. Suffice it to say this interrupted her planned routine. You are welcome.

Due to that interruption, Anty needed a break. She made some tea and read a chapter in a book. Then she played a game on her phone. Then she started making notes about her day, only this time, she’d had some time to think (and some tea) before deciding what to do, when. Besides writing, we have company coming, so she has some domestic things to do. She has found if she switches off writing and domestic things, she can think about one while doing the other, and it creates a comfortable rhythm, without too much pressure. This goes along with her releasing the stranglehold on how writing should go and finding out how it actually does.

While that is all good for the writing process, it is unsettling for a kitty, because Anty is moving things around. She is even going to move a bookshelf today. I will probably hide, especially because that shelf is going into her office. Her office looks like a tornado hit it right now, but it will be better when things are in the places where they actually go. She will share pictures of it then.

Anty says that is all the time I get to blog today, because she needs the computer now, so 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…