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.)

Typing With Wet Claws: Picking Up The Pace Edition

October 14, 2016October 14, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here for another Feline Friday. It is a beautiful autumn day here in New York state, with many interesting things outside my window. but I take my duties as a mews seriously, so I will make my blog post before I go back to watching very important things like birds and cars and leaves. Everything is moving outside my window, and things are moving in Anty’s writing life, as well. I had better talk about that first.

First, as always, Anty’s post at Buried Under Romance, about unusual settings for romance novels, is here: http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/10/saturday-discussion-unusual-settings-yea-or-nay.html and it looks like this:

What counts as an unusual setting, anyway?

Now that the regular TV season is back on the air, that means Anty is back to telling people who kissed, are probably going to kiss, or do other romance-related things on the big glowy box. This week, Anty covers some big Shamy doings on The Big Bang Theory. That post is here: http://www.heroesandheartbreakers.com/blogs/2016/10/next-steps-the-big-bang-theory-10×04-shamy-heart-to-heart and it looks like this:

Sheldon and Amy under one roof? What is the world coming to?

Back when we lived in the old country, Anty belonged to the same RWA chapter as a writer human named Corrina Lawson , and they had many interesting talks. Recently, Miss Corrina asked Anty if Anty would be interested in participating in a workshop about blogging, that Miss Corrina wanted to present at this year’s NECRWA conference. Anty said yes, and so Miss Corrina sent in the proposal. The conference humans liked it, so that means Anty will be co-presenting her very first workshop, “Blogging Isn’t Dead,” at a conference. Anty finds that very exciting, and will share more when she knows more. If you would like to know more about the conference, you can find that out here:

http://necrwa.org/blog1/conference/ and here is Miss Corrina’s website, if you would like to find out more about her: http://corrina-lawson.com/.

Anty and Anty Melva also have a workshop that they created together, called Save the Writer, Save the Book, which is about writing through the tough times in life, but that one will be presented at another time. Anty and Anty Melva had meant to submit a proposal for that one, but, as you can imagine, life happened, and they are now looking at other opportunities. Roll with the punches, that is one of their lessons right there. Also, do not punch other humans. It is hard to write with a broken hand. I would imagine. I only have paws, and it is hard enough already. I do have special toes, though, so that might have something to do with it.

Beyond that, Anty started a new morning pages book this week. It is her fifth one, and it looks like this:

PaPaYa! Art spiral notebook

Stathmore Visual Journal Watercolor

All right, that is really two notebooks. The purple notebook is by PaPaYa! Art, Anty’s favorite, and you have seen some of the pages in her desk shots this week already. The other one is for an art journaling class she is taking. Pictures from that class have to stay in that class, so she cannot share those here, but she does have to get a second copy of this book, because the one she has does not have enough pages to complete all the classwork. Okay, technically speaking, it does, but not if she uses the pages the way she wants to use the pages, which is to put the picture on one side and then write notes about it on the other side. That is what works best for her in this format, and so she will need a second book. That will give her some extra pages once the class is over. She does not know what she wants to do with those other pages, but she will figure it out.

When Anty first got the watercolor book, it was because she inherited some Very Nice watercolors from her papa, who had been an artist. I mean Very Nice watercolors. Professional grade (because her papa had been a professional artist) which kind of intimidated Anty. She likes to make art for fun. (She used to sell altered lunchbox purses, but that was when Olivia was the kitty in this family, so I do not know about any of that.) Using the Very Nice paints to mess around felt like a waste. When her papa got these paints, he probably had plans for them. Anty does not make the same kind of art that her papa did, and she will be the first to admit she knows less than nothing about how to use watercolors, so she did not have any business using these Very Nice paints.

Except that…she wanted them. They come in glass bottles with eyedroppers, and the colors are very, very pretty. Like super pretty. Anty also used to steal her papa’s art supplies when she was a people kitten, basically all the time, and she knew enough that watercolor paints need watercolor paper. She had used the Strathmore books before, with different paper in them, but never the watercolor paper before. She did not even know what she was going to do with it, but then there was the class, and then there was the book, and the paint, and…why not? Right now, pretty much all she does is lay down some color for the background, but that is the way to get used to trying a new thing; slap something down on the page and see how it behaves. It is like that with writing, too, which may be one of the reasons Anty is okay with buying another watercolor book and seeing what happens when the class is over and the training wheels come off.

That is about it for this week, so I had better let Anty have the computer back. She has a post to write for Heroes and Heartbreakers, and she wants to play with her imaginary friends, so, until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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

This Book Now

October 5, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

We have a new toilet. Probably not the most exciting thing to start off a blog entry, and no, you do not get a picture, but that took up my early afternoon, which is why I’m only getting to write this post now, and why I’m writing it from the, ah, comfort of my own home, instead of from the coffee house, and yes, I am itchy over that. Thwarted extrovert here, but Skye kitty is doing her best, and Housemate will be home soon, to watch Ink Master, so there’s that. There is also writing.

Five days from now, I will start a new morning pages book. That would be the purple one in today’s picture. Current book is the one with the face on it, and yes, I am already scouting out the notebook that will come after that one, because I really do want the alternating page spreads instead of the same pages every time. This will make my fifth notebook since I started doing morning pages, so I think it’s safe to say that this whole morning pages thing is working. Good to know.

Also good to know is that the current method of fumbling my way toward ecstasy, by which I mean leveling up to the next draft, because that is, in itself a form of ecstasy, is working. While dealing with the unique experience of a gentleman showing up at our door, taking out one commode and installing another, thus silencing the vuvuzela player in our basement, my brain was firmly in the eighteenth century. I’m about halfway through my notes on N’s notes, and ready to show this next draft who’s boss. (Hint: it’s me.) The stuff I figured out I’d figure out later (apart from the section that is still literally labeled “Hero Scene” with “vaguest note ever” – that’s still pretty much that, but since Heroine’s reaction to events at that stage of the game is X, his needs to be Y, so they are not even close to on the same page in this part. Nobody can be completely happy until the very end of the book, at which point, I literally throw my hands in the air, shout “HEA!” and cheer. Even in Panera. This may or may not have anything to do with the staff remembering my order without me having to say a word, but I’m not going to investigate it too closely.

Today was not the day I expected. I got to the Laundromat at a later point in the morning than I had intended, I didn’t get any reading done, and I do not want to speculate too much on the reason my favorite washing machine had that many feathers in it. I suspect it may have had something to do with down-filled clothing, pillows, or thrill-seeking chickens. Probably not the chickens, but one never knows. Plumber showed about four hours early, minutes after Real Life Romance Hero vacated the room Plumber needed for his work, and we now have the old toilet waiting on the curb for whatever its next destination will be. I have no idea how these things work, but that’s where it is. Wherever it goes from here is up to forces beyond my control.

What is within my control is how I write this book. Trust my gut. Trust my characters. Tell my story, the way it comes to me, and tell it until it’s told. For me, that comes in layers, enough of them to make a bookish baklava. When I look at the early parts of the story now, they feel a lot sketchier than the later parts, because I didn’t know the story or characters as well then as I do now. That only comes with time, with asking them why, and, more importantly, listening to their answers rather than trying to fill in the blanks by myself. There’s intuition and planning, and that funky space in the middle where it’s a little of both.

Here’s what I do know. I’m writing this book. I know where it starts, where it ends, and what happens in between. I know Hero and Heroine, why they are both the worst person for the other to fall for, at the worst possible time, and the very best person for the other in the end. I know it hasn’t taken the path I thought it was going to take right at the start, and I know it still has a few surprises for me before we’re done. I know this one is going to make it. I know I am back on the horse. I know there will be other books after this one, and I know I don’t need to concern myself with them at this point. I know they will present themselves, characters, setting, era and all, at the time I need them and not before. This book now. That may need to go on my wall.

Typing With Wet Claws: They’re Coming Edition

August 19, 2016annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. There is a lot going on this week, so I will talk about Anty’s writing first. Her latest post at Buried Under Romance is about the heat levels in romance novels, and she does not mean the weather. She means how much kissing, and more than kissing, that an author puts in their stories. I, myself, am fixed, and so have no preference in these matters, but, apparently, humans do, and like to discuss them. Anty’s post is here, and it looks like this:

In case WordPress is being picky again and not letting Anty make links within text, click or cut and paste here:

http://buriedunderromance.com/2016/08/saturday-discussion-too-hot-to-handle.html#disqus_thread

It is also being picky and not letting her reply to comments on that page right now, but she will answer as soon as she can.

The first thing that happened this week was that the cable humans meant to turn off service to somebody who was moving, but they read the wrong number and cut our service instead. That was a mistake. We did not have cable or internet for two and a half days, except when we could get on the city internet, but that was weak. Anty did not mind all that much, because there was city internet, and because that was enough to run Spotify when she wrote. She wrote a lot this week. She and Anty Melva outlined the rest of the Beach Ball (loosely, Anty says, but it still counts) and had a Skype meeting about that. Anty Melva asked if Anty wanted to pitch a workshop they created together to the NECRWA conference (they will go, even if the conference people say no thank you) and Anty said okay. So there is that. Anty also used what she learned from Miss K. A.’s workshop last week, to take care of some things with Her Last First Kiss, which also makes her very happy. With the anticipated return of Anty’s super powers, and firm plans, this should be a very write-y autumn.

One way that I know this will be a very write-y autumn is that Anty is now less than two weeks away from filling her third morning pages book. Here is the current book (the one with the Eiffel Tower) next to the next one (it says “Fearless,” which Anty wants to be in what she is writing these days.) :

The Fearless book is really half a book, because Anty started writing something else, with the wrong pen, in the first part of the book, and then set it aside. When she started writing her morning pages in the Paris book, she knew she wanted to continue with books by the same maker, PaPaYa! Art, because they look like how her brain feels. Anty says that will make sense to some other writer humans. It does not make sense to me, but then again, I am a kitty. They are pretty, though, and pretty pages help Anty write more. Here is a better look at the Fearless cover by itself, and the pens Anty will use to write in it:

Those pens are also the pens Anty has in her daily carry bag, so this could get interesting, though, with the number of times she has written her morning pages on the go, this may actually make it more convenient. She has not missed a single day since going to seven days a week, and thinks that may have something to do with writing more, in general. The rotating page designs probably have something to do with her being eager to see what pages she will write on that day, although they do rotate, which means it is the same sequence, so she should know these things. Anyway, these are the designs on which she will write her morning pages this time:

Another thing that Anty loves, besides writing, is organizing. Anty loves, loves, loves organizing. I, on the other paw, love, love, love things staying the same. You can see where we might have creative differences when it comes to moving things around. Anty is moving things around, because we are having company on Sunday. Anty Mary and Uncle Brian are friends who still live where we used to live, and they are all very excited to see each other. I, again, on the other paw (I am a kitty; I can have up to four paws in this situation. Well, any situation, because I do have four paws, all the time. I walk on them.) am not as into the concept of visitors as Anty and the other humans.

I already had to deal with the Cable Human this week, so I am not that thrilled about more visitors. Uncle and Anty put me into Mama’s room with the door closed, so that I would not have to deal with the Cable Human, but there is a cable box in Mama’s room, too, and Cable Human had to look at it, as well as the one in the living room. I hid under the bed, but he still saw me. I do not know why. Only my tail stuck out. That was the only thing. He did his job and left quickly, so that was good. Anty Mary and Uncle Brian will stay longer than that, though (partly because Uncle will be feeding them. Also because they are good friends who have not seen each other in a long time.

They also have not seen me in a long time, so I will probably come out and say hello at some point, because they are not strangers. Also, they smell like doggy. His name is Alex. I have never met him, but Anty says he is a Golden Retriever. That is a big doggie. He will not be coming; only the humans. I will send him kitty scents on his humans to tell him hello from me. He can sniff them when they get home. He has smelled me on my humans lots of times, so that will be familiar.

That is about it for this week, as Anty needs to get back to writing and getting the house ready for company, and her office ready for working more efficiently. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Until next week…

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

Right Now

August 10, 2016annabowling 5 Comments

Right now, I am in the comfy chair, bare feet up on the footrest, an ice pack on my lower spine (for heat regulation, not injury; I’m fine.) My Paris travel mug sweats on the table to my right. It’s almost empty. I’ll need to get up and refill it soon. On my left, a box fan sits in the open window. Ominous gray clouds lurk low over the old brick building across the street. There was a wonderful pub there when we moved in; it’s empty now. Its neighbors, a bodega and a liquor store, remain. I am listening to a new-to-me singer, Levi Kreis, on my phone, because Spotify can be patchy when using the web player on my laptop, and I’m still hypervigilant about memory, so downloading very little to the hard drive. I suspect that the multiple YouTube videos H sent me, of the Danish Royal family (it was all for writing, really it was) may have left their ghosts in my cache, because there is a full GB less of space than there was the day before, and I clean caches daily. I’ll deal with that later.

Right now, I have enough time to focus on this entry, because it is a domestic tornado day. One of these days, I may start naming our domestic tornadoes. If I start here, this one will be “Anton.” Well, maybe not Anton, because the Anton I know in real life is the owner of my favorite coffee house, and, while he does wear a lot of hats (metaphorically and literally) he has nothing to do with today’s tornado. So, maybe not Anton. Maybe I’ll start naming tornadoes some other time, when I am not actually in the middle of one. Not entirely sure if that is ever going to happen, so maybe it’s more of a juggling act.

Right now, I want to squeeze in as much blog entry as I can before I have to shift back to family mode. What I would like to do is pack up laptop and legal pad, ensconce myself at Anton’s establishment and delve into my eighteenth century world, but that’s not what this afternoon is going to be. Okay. Can’t change that. What I can change is my response. The day is what it is. I like my family, and spending time with them is not a bad thing. We all work together to make a good life for all of us, and, for every tornado, there is going to be a calm (or at least an eye.) So, it’s going to happen. Not a zero sum game. Since I have my purse notebook, all necessary accoutrements in the accompanying pouch, I can take my show on the road. I seriously think this may become my new default notebook:

All that ink on paper…soooooo calm. Insert happy sigh here.

Margins are perfect for making short lists, and notes on what’s on the rest of the page, where needed. Highlighting dates and headings means I can go immediately to what I want, which I like very much. Seriously considering drawing margins on the pages of other notebooks that do not have them already. Anything at all can go in these all purpose books, and the fact that my newly discovered music crush has some songs that would fit beautifully for Hero in certain situations, should there ever be a Her Last First Kiss musical (hey, I can dream) means that musing on same is perfectly fair game. Anything specific to a particular project, I can copy into the proper book when the time comes, and there’s always transcription to computer file, but I know myself. Longhand is best.

Speaking of longhand, I am locking in these PaPaYa! Art notebooks as my next two morning pages book, since I am now on the second half of the book I am currently using:

Notebook and a half, actually

The “Fearless” book is really half a book, since it belongs to the “uh, no, I actually don’t want to use this book for that purpose” family. It’s about halfway filled, maybe a little less than that, with ramblings in purple ballpoint, which, while a pen I love (promo pen from Hannah Howell) also one that doesn’t show up well on the surface of these pages. The “Love You to the Moon” book, I have been saving for a special occasion. Today, I decided that right now is special enough.

This Saturday, I get to have the great good pleasure of attending my monthly CRRWA meeting, made all the better by a workshop with the luminous K.A. Mitchell, who always puts us to work, which I greatly appreciate. Writer people, if you ever get a chance to take one of her workshops, do. Anyway, a tidbit from her workshop on breaking creative blocks feels appropriate for right now: use the good stuff. Use it now. Beautiful notebook, fun idea, character who won’t shut up; use them now. Don’t wait. There will be more. That’s how creativity works.

Marginally Speaking

August 9, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

Third time I’ve started this blog entry, and both times, I bored even myself, so I am going directly to my last-resort backup, because then I get to take a reading break. That backup is playing show and tell with a favorite notebook. In this case, it’s a hardcover Case Mate, which appears to be a proprietary Wal Mart brand.

insert own obligatory “black and white and read all over” joke here.

I have two of these Case Mate notebooks already, one blue, and partially written in, always with blue ballpoint (though that may change) and currently living on the kitchen counter (which will probably change) the other purple, and as yet untouched, as I have vague plans to start some kind of purple notebook family/dynasty (this may be the subject of the next blog entry when summer and its bestie, insomnia, have used my home for yet another non-sleepover) but when I saw this one in the back to school section (the notebooks in the regular office supply section are the same inside, but have neon covers, which does not fit with my aesthetic) I had to have it. The notebook also comes in pink and aqua versions, which may yet happen, but I can’t have every notebook (where would I put them?)

Here’s the best thing about the Case Mate book:

Only marginally important. Get it? Marginally? I’ll see myself out. No, this is my blog. I’m staying. I’m punchy. Deal with it.

Ivory paper here, which I far prefer to white, but it was the margins that sold me. part of me would like to see the margin on the facing page on the outside instead of inside, but it’s perfect for making notations on what I’ve already written, the perfect place to affix sticky note flags and the like. I don’t currently have any sticky note flags tucked into this book (partly because it does not have a pocket) but I did stock it with the basics; two different colors of square sticky notes, and one of a larger size. Still working on the color scheme; would love to keep it black/white/red/gray or in that neighborhood.

Top square sticky looks lavender, but it’s light gray. Trust me.

Only semi-hacked, no fancy end papers, but I already feel the calm that comes with moving into a new notebook. I’d started to feel itchy when, every time I had to switch bags, I had to dig for my pen pouch and the one all-purpose notebook that was supposed to come with me from bag to bag, be filled by now (it’s about halfway there) and possibly grant wishes or something. I don’t know what I was thinking at the time, but I am going to assume best intent and believe that I was going for efficiency and avoidance of adding anything to the stack of whoops-that-wasn’t-their-purpose-after-all notebooks.

Whatever it was, the fuss of hunting and switching overrode the supposed ease of a one size fits all kind of deal, and so the idea popped into my head, shortly after I brought the new notebook home. My usual summer tote is black and white stripes. I have a black and white chevron case my black rimmed glasses sleep in every night. I have gorgeous black and white chevron afghan, for when temperatures drop, and my new pen pouch is black and white, so why did I have a notebook with a color photo as my book for that bag?

As soon as I made the switch, I felt a click. This combination looks like it belongs together. It looks intentional. It feels like me, like where I want to be going. Not a magic fix-it to all my problems, not a huge thing, even, but it feels right, and that’s good enough. It’s listening to that creative impulse and not shushing it with “shoulds” and “you don’t need thats” and “bare minimum and/or status quo is good enough,” because no, no, isn’t. If it were, then it wouldn’t feel right when I made the change. I am learning to listen to my creative brain when it says things like this. “Let’s try something different today,” or “what if we did this instead of that?” Learning to say yes when a writer friend asks if I want to bat around a story, just for fun, because we’ve both talked each other down from ledges this week, and, dangit, we want to touch the joy.

It’s easy to get away from the joy, easy to get lost in the shoulds, but easy, too, if we allow ourselves, to feel the giddy pleasure of cracking open a new notebook and leafing through the empty pages, reading the words that will be written there, imagining which ink, what format – story notes? to do lists? doodles? drafts? all of the above?- and making a conscious decision that yes, my writing has value, and it is worth the investment. It’s worth the investment of the right notebook and pens, that feel right in my hands and right in my spirit, look right to my eyes, and it’s worth the investment of my time, to get away from the rest of the world and follow my imaginary friends as they live their lives, copy it down and then put it in order.

Where am I going with all this? Well, I don’t have to go anywhere, really, since I’m already far past the magic seven hundred, nattering on about a notebook in which I’ve only written one page, and that to test ink, but I know where that took me. That took me into writing mode, into the urge to open the document and poke it with a stick, even if I have only a few minutes before family descends and I need to switch gears. If that’s the outcome, is a new notebook frivolous? Not from where I’m sitting, which is, in this case, on the edge of the eighteenth century, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed there.

This Is My Brain On Summer

July 27, 2016annabowling 2 Comments

I had plans for this afternoon. I was going to head to my favorite coffee house, with the legal pad on which I’d written stuff for two scenes of Her Last First Kiss, and transcribe in air conditioned comfort, directly under a ceiling fan. Good in theory failure in execution. The hitch? I left the legal pad at home. Since I live less than a full block away, there was the temptation to ask the barista to hang onto my iced tea while I raced back home, but I am not racing anywhere in this heat. I’m already sun and heat sensitive, and not going outside any more than I absolutely have to until this heat dome lifts.

So, today went to plan B. I had some Beach Ball work to do, and switched gears to take care of that. First up, check on the comments Melva gave on the chapter I sent her. Which cut off a full two pages early than the actual scene. Okay. Find backup copy, pray it has the missing pages (it did) and send off the correct version, as well as the compiled document with all of our scenes in it. These are more or less in order, and, seeing them together, criminy crikes, this is a book. Still in the gestational stage, but definitely a book. Guy and Girl (to differentiate from Hero and Heroine) have got to their first threshold of contact. Plot arc and romance arc progressing, historical adjacent stuff inserted at the proper (we think) time, and seeds for future things planted. This is all a good thing. Not what I had planned for the day, but I am calling it good. I can pick up on what I wanted to work on today, tomorrow, and the world will not end. Doing things in a different order is still doing them, so forward we go.

Possibly into the babbling portion of this blog entry, because this is the last thing on my list for the day. It was going to be one of the first things, but see mention of doing things out of order. There are times, when the unrelenting heat stays unrelenting, that the only thing to do is plunk one’s feet in cold water and crack open a book somebody else wrote. When putting story out isn’t working, take story in; refill the well. A reading break, if nothing else, gets my mind into story mode, in general, which is a good thing .

When the heat gets too high, and invites its BFF, humidity, along for the ride, it can be difficult to slog through the brainmelt and actually get stuff done. Interesting timing there, with this brainmelt arriving the same time I’m getting my stride back, writing wise, but that’s how things work, I suppose. Resistance builds strength and all that. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Story, story, story, story, story, story, story. That’s my happy place, any time of year, and slipping into storyworld makes consecutive days of 90plus temperatures somewhat more bearable.

As my mother used to tell me, the more I do, the more I’ll want to do, and she’s right. Every morning, I drag myself to the morning pages, even when I have no idea what I want to put on those pages. It’s the discipline that’s building the practice. This is telling my brain that this is what we’re going to be doing for the majority of the day. The pretty pages mean my eyes want to stay on those pages, and good thing, because I have two more notebooks by the same makers, to take up when I finish this one. Okay, one and a half, really, as I’d tried using one of them for one thing, and that Did Not Work Out. That, though, was before I discovered rollerballs and fountain pens, so that notebook is only resting for a little while.

Exercising any muscle makes it stronger, which is why I set myself the discipline of three blogs per week. Okay, two, but getting a cat to write the third one for me is pretty darned creative all on its own, so credit there, surely.

Allrightyroo, that is the magic 700 words, so this blog entry is d-o-n-e, done. Tomorrow, Hero and Heroine, tomorrow, I am coming for you. For now, air conditioning and reading break. Toodles.

Typing With Wet Claws: Too Darned Hot Edition

July 8, 2016July 8, 2016annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Even though I am the one with the built-in fur coat, Anty is the one most affected by the heat. Uncle had a rough day, too, yesterday, and even Mama has been feeling sluggish, and she is usually the hardiest in this weather. Before I am allowed to talk about anything else, I have to talk about Anty’s writing first, so we will do that now.

Anty’s most recent Buried Under Romance post is here, and it looks like this:

Do you like to go fast or slow?

Summertime has never been Anty’s favorite time of year, because it is very hot and bright, and she is sensitive to both of those things. That means that, for most of the summertime, staying inside, in front of the box fan, during the day is the smart thing to do. Thankfully, since Anty is a writer, this actually works in her favor. Well, apart from the whole lack of energy thing. Do not worry, though; when autumn comes, Anty will get her superpowers back. She is not willing to wait for a couple more months to get to the top of her game, and so she has to make a couple of adjustments here.

Since Anty is a morning person, getting up super early helps. It is still cool in the morning, and her brain is all fresh from sleep. The house is quiet, too, so it is the perfect time for her to write her morning pages. She is excited to start a new morning pages book, and has settled on the Papaya! Art spiral bound book for her next round of morning pages. If you have missed that post, (it is here) that book looks like this:

She still does not know what pens she will use for that, but that is okay. She will know what to use when the time comes, and admits that she will probably have to do an ink test, even though she doesn’t want to make any mistakes on a book this special. Come to think of it, she feels the same way about the books she is writing, but there, too, she is learning to make adjustments.

Miss H, one of Anty’s writer friends, reminds Anty that nobody ever has to see a scene if Anty really thinks it is, um…stuff, (Miss H did not say “stuff.” I am using it as a euphemism for what she really said.) but Anty does have to write it. Anty is very tempted to say bad words to Miss H when Miss H says this, but she settles for saying the same thing right back to Miss H when it is Miss H’s turn. That is the important thing. It is okay to write the scene while scared of writing that scene. Getting even the roughest version out of the brain and onto the page or screen is what is important here. There will be time to make it pretty later, but nothing can be done if there is nothing on the page. Anty finds that it can be difficult to get over perfectionism, but it is also necessary. Sometimes, that is the biggest part of the battle, and once there is something, anything, on the page, then the rest comes easily.

This week, Anty has been working on both Her Last First Kiss, and the Beach Ball, although not as quickly as she might like. As I mentioned above, it has been very hot, and there has been a lot of humidity. I usually find a doorway with good air flow (the bathroom hallway is the best, because there are no windows, the floor is linoleum (or would that be lion-oleum, because it is comfy for kitties?) and, if I am in the right spot, I can catch breezes from the living room fan, Anty and Uncle’s bedroom fan, and stay in direct line of sight of the pantry door, which is where the humans keep my food and treats.

Even though Anty is most dominant, she is too big to flop in a doorway, and so she has to take other measures. Her comfy chair is in front of the living room fan, and the master bedroom door can close, keeping all the cool air inside. Her office even has a ceiling fan, so that gives her another place she can work comfortably, even when it is not a good idea for her to go outside even the short distance to the coffee house. Even so, there are some days when it is flat out (and I am flat, even though I am inside) too disgusting to brain.

Anty is learning that, when it is difficult to put out, then it is time to take in. Because her body loses water, salt and potassium when the weather is hot, then she needs to put those things back into it by what she eats and drinks. The same way, since she puts out story when she writes, she needs to take story in between writing sessions. Reading is the best way, in her genre and out of it, to both stay grounded in why she loves what she loves and to inject some new energy into what she’s already doing.

Sometimes, the shift happens when Anty is not even looking for it. Today, while doing laundry (she went very early, so she could be there and back before it got too hot) Anty read a chunk of one of the books she got from the library earlier this week, and, when it came time to read the next chapter, she took out her mini notebook from her pen pouch to make a couple of quick notes. Yeah, Anty, those pages are more than a couple of notes, but that is exactly the point. Keeping one’s well filled means there will be enough to draw from when the time comes.

Anty says that time has come now (also for my lunch, so there’s that) so that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Until next week…

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling

Morning Pages, the Heir Presumptive, and the Young Pretender

July 6, 2016annabowling 1 Comment

With one week left in my current, much-beloved morning pages book, the time has come to decide on which book will be its successor, and I’d like to say I’m closer, but a young pretender has entered the fray. Going by only what I currently possess, the heir presumptive is this lovely bird and flower themed Punch Studio book:

Endpapers

Lined pages

That’s the endpapers in the first picture, internal pages in the second. Same images on all spreads, where I do prefer that they rotate. Banastre Lobster has no opinion on that.

Normally, the issue would be settled, but we have a young pretender to the throne, this spiral-bound Papaya! Art (the exclamation point is part of the name) gorgeousness, which would continue the Paris theme:

Banastre must, of course, investigate.

My heart did a skippity-skip when I first saw this on the shelves at Barnes and Noble, and I don’t remember when the precious actually came home, but I knew I wanted to save it for something special. Since I still have absolutely zero ideas for any Parisian historical romances, morning pages would fit the bill. Inside pages are not lined, but are lovely.

First, we have this inside cover and first page, which presents a challenge when the discipline is one two-page spread for each day:

Name and address on inside cover, obv, but facing page?

After that, we have these:

one

two

three

four

None of the pages are lined, but those backgrounds…guh. Gorgeous. I want to put things on them. On the one hand, I think Hero would heartily approve of my appreciation of a pre-prepared background, because he used to do that kind of thing, but then again, his experience in Paris (hey, there is a connection!) was not exactly his favorite part of life. He wouldn’t know about the Eiffel Tower, though, as it was a century after his time. The clouds, though, and the design elements, those he knows, and the floral motifs fit nicely for a Georgian gentleman (and his lady.)

The question for me here is, would the lack of lines be a problem? Also, what sort of pens do I want to use on these pages? They’re thicker than regular paper-paper, but not thick enough that I’d feel comfortable using Sharpies, at least not without an ink test, but I don’t want to sacrifice a page for that. Even so, the rotating designs excite me, and since I plan to increase to seven entries per week instead of six, that’s almost two rotations every week, but not exactly, so monotony would not be an issue. If the pages are visually inspiring, I am going to come to them with a better outlook, and, if stuck for what to put on the page, the images have suggestions right there. If I really need lines, I can draw them on with pencil and ruler. Fountain pens or rollerballs are my best educated guess on the pen issue. I’ve tried another book by this same maker, a different design in this line, with ballpoint, and I was so unhappy with that, that I set the book aside. Will need to resurrect that one, with a better selection of pen.

As I am writing this, I am listening to the Hamilton soundtrack. A writer friend will be traveling from Canada to NYC to see the show live this coming week. Right after the original cast departs, which does bring a pang, but, then again, there will be the energy of of the new cast making their debuts, and there will be the PBS documentary in October, and the original cast has been filmed, (I would totally go see this in theaters, if it were to be distributed that way) so it’s possible to get the best of both worlds there. I’ve been listening to the soundtrack, first as an Independence Day celebration (I know, Banastre, I know. Mama still loves you.) and then as part of my “immerse myself in the zeitgeist” plan of working through this draft.

Her Last First Kiss is set in England, in 1784, and Hero is not a soldier; he’s an artist, and he’s spent the pertinent years on the Continent (see Paris experience, above) so he’s pretty far removed from that business in the Colonies, but he does exchange letters with a cousin, relocated to Canada from New York, because expulsion of British and all that. Heroine is the product of a Russian father and English mother, was raised in England and identifies as British. These two have latched onto me in a way I’d been afraid I wouldn’t experience again after the time travel stalled, and I want to give them the very best story I can, which means I need to let their world seep into my writerblood.

The thing with writing historical romance novels is that the characters don’t know they’re in a historical. They think they’re in a contemporary. For Hero and Heroine, 1784 is their now. They aren’t wearing costumes; those are their clothes. People are people, no matter what century in which they do their people-ing, and that’s what I want to bring to live the most. If Hero were a 21st century person, he’d probably be glued to his phone, but he’s an 18th century person, so he carries around a portable lap desk so he can write letters and sketch/doodle. That was actually the first thing he showed me about himself, that desk. Writers, you understand how that works. Once he saw I was going to treat the desk right, then he came a little bit closer, like a stray cat when their benefactor moves the food dish an inch closer to the porch every day, until both cat and human are astonished that they are cuddling in the porch swing together.

If I were going to let Hero pick the new daily pages book, he’d pick the spiral bound. Which is, obviously, a lot thinner than the heir presumptive. Which may lead me to the same dilemma sooner, rather than later. I am not complaining.

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

Notebooks