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Post-Birthday Post

annabowling 2 Comments
French Onion burger
Real Life Romance Hero

 

Sometimes, it’s the smallest changes that make the biggest difference.  Monday’s post is on Tuesday this week, because this particular Monday can best be summed up thusly:

 

I love my birthday. Like really, really love my birthday. Birthdays in general, but October 24th is all about me. Thankfully, I have progressed past the announcing of said date to random strangers (okay, I think I grew out of that when I was about five, maybe six) I do not sleep in a tiara, as the risk of poking Real Life Romance Hero in the eye is too strong, but the sentiment is basically the same. The time leading up to the actual day had some ups and downs, because the number attached to this birthday has a zero in it. We will not dwell on that, because the time machine is broken, and I can only move forward from where I am at present, the anniversary of being a one-day-old.

While I am not a medical or psychological professional, I did study early childhood education (the fact that I now make up stories and tell people who kissed on TV may let you know how good of a match that turned out to be) and I think it is safe to say that a large part of a one-day-old’s thought process is devoted to (pardon my language, gentle readers) “WTF?” There they were, minding their own business the way they’d always done, then the walls closed in and oh so much pressure, and then light and sound and touching and hey it’s cold out here and what are you doing with my cord, doctor person? Okay, there’s milk, and blankets are nice, and these other beings generally seem pleased that the new person exists, but there is a bit of a learning curve going on here. Little patience with the new kid, okay?

Today is a little like that. Since Real Life Romance Hero had to work on the 24th, we celebrated together on the 22nd, which was cold, rainy and grey. In short, my favorite weather besides snow, so bonus points for that. We had lunch together, hung out for the afternoon, and I could not have asked for a better day. Cold day, hot date, hot lunch. Perfect combination, left me feeling very loved.

Real Life Romance Hero
French Onion burger

 

This left the actual day free for celebrating with Housemate, who knew me well enough to suggest trips to two separate libraries. This is why we are friends. That, and neither of us can afford the blackmail. She also gave me the lovely lap desk in today’s picture, or, for a better shot of it without the laptop and friends in the way, this:

 

lapdesk241016

I’d had my eye on this one for a while, though the old lap desk still technically worked. It was a flat surface. It fit in my lap. Okay, the not-very-convincing woodgrain contact paper type of covering had begun to split and peel, the cushion had deflated, and the loop that was intended to let me carry the desk from place to place was now more of a tab. In short, long enough. Time for something new. Time for getting down to business. This one has two wrist rests. The wooden bar between them keeps pens from rolling off, and there are not one, but two places I can park my phone while making with the tappity tap.

How big a difference did this make? Pretty darned, actually. Last night, while I chatted with H, I worked on a scene.  Things were going all right, though this was not coming as smoothly as I had hoped, but okay,  moving forward. Typing with wrist support is a whole other experience, everything in the correct place, no need to be part Cirque de Soleil performer while keeping everything in reach. Until, that is, my jump drive blinked at me. I knew what that blinking jump drive meant. Bad stuff.

Sure enough, a couple of seconds later, the computer let me know the jump drive was corrupted. Click this handy button to fix things. That always worked before, so I did. Computer said drive was okay now. Great. Go back to document. My scene is gone. Closing in on two thousand words, gone. Not there. Big ol’ zero. I calmly inform H of this. H joins me in expression of shock and dismay. Was I sure? I was sure. Blank page, right there. Maybe being actually comfortable had something to do with it, or newfound maturity, or both, but I checked my backup, to see if I had saved an earlier version.  I had.

Okay.  Call up earlier version. Discover earlier version is half the size of scene I lost. Half. Inform H of this. H agrees it stinks that I lost half, but, maybe, this is for the best, and I can write it even better this time. I agreed that was probably true, but I was done for the night. I took out a new jump drive, obtained for the distinct purpose of taking over for the other one, and transferred the file in question. Then it was bedtime, because entire scenes vanishing can do a thing to a gal, especially on the first day of a year ending in zero.

So. Far over the  magic seven hundred, comfy in my chair, with my lap desk, wrists fully supported, handwritten “everything I can remember about this scene” pages in place, and forward I go, a one-day-old once more. Only, this time, I have cupcakes.

cupcakecravingsbyrachel

apple spice, brown sugar frosting

Typing With Wet Claws: Uncle Photobomb Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Anty only meant to take a picture of me for today’s blog, but she did not know Uncle was right behind me. I made her keep him in the picture because he is super handsome (even if you can only see his hands in this particular picture) and great and my favorite.  Also, he often comes home smelling like fish (he works in a restaurant that specializes in fish) so that is a pretty big bonus if you are a kitty.

While Anty agrees with me on how great Uncle is, she also reminds me who it is who feeds me all day, and the agreement we made about what we talk about, and when, on this blog. That means I have to tell you where you can see Anty’s writing this week, besides here. First, as always, Anty talked about seasonal reading preferences over at Buried Under Romance. That post is here:

http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/10/saturday-discussion-time-of-the-season.html and it looks like this:

 

bur21oct16

 

Then Anty got to do one of her other favorite things, and get a look at a book she really really wanted to read, before humans can buy it in stores, and then talk about it. That is her First Look at Baron, by Joanna Shupe. You can read that post at Heroes and Heartbreakers, here:

http://www.heroesandheartbreakers.com/blogs/2016/10/first-look-joanna-shupes-baron-october-25-2016  and it looks like this:

 

 

handhbaron

Anty very much likes books set in Gilded Age New York. Maybe she will write one herself, someday, but right now, she is writing two books with different settings, and that is enough for her. Part of this whole getting back on the horse thing (I have not seen any horses around the apartment, so I think Anty might mean metaphorical horses) is learning what she can handle and still produce the kind of work she wants to share with other humans. This means saying no to some things, like NaNoWriMo. That works very well for other humans, but, for Anty, it feels like too much pressure.

What works better for Anty is to dive into the story and kind of live there for a while. Without distractions is best, apart from any peripherals that help her stay in the story world. That would include her story playlists (the Beach Ball still does not have a playlist of its own, so she will listen to either her Go To Work playlist, which she listens to when writing nonfiction, or the songs she dumps on a general playlist because she likes them, but does not know what story they go with yet) any reference pictures and/or notes, and sometimes even a scented candle. Some scented candles make Uncle sick, so Anty does not burn those when he is around. Sometimes, she will keep the unlit candle around and give it a sniff when she needs to smell that smell.

Sometimes, Anty likes to get out of the house, like when she meets with Miss N on Tuesdays and when she goes to the coffee house on some afternoons. Earlier this week, she wrote on the old desktop (it does not have internet) for a while because Uncle was home, doing Uncle-y things, and Anty needed to get the work done. She was surprised how well that worked. For one thing, the big screen on the monitor is very easy for her eyes to focus on, and, for another, I know where she keeps the gummi bears. I do not eat gummi bears, because I am a kitty, but I know where she keeps them, and being near the gummi bears when writing seems to work rather well.

None of that is really news to those who have been reading this blog for a while, but Anty has a new document going because she is on a new draft, and she does not think that is very interesting to anybody but her. While she likes Scrivener for some things, right now, she is focused on building her story layers, so she is going to try moving everything to Word. That will let her do more work in her office. It is her happy place. She is pretty much splashing around in the shallows of this whole writing process thing, as one’s process can change after big life events (and she has had a few) and, when she finds something that clicks, sticking with that. I am glad that letting me blog for her on Fridays is one of those things. I do take my mews duties seriously, and I will do anything for my Anty. Except enter her office, because I do not like the carpet in there.

Normally, I would say this is about it for the week, apart from Anty being excited because A) The Walking Dead season premiere is Sunday, and B) her birthday is Monday, but it has come to my attention that the picture at the top of the page does not actually include Uncle. I am going to try that again, in case there is something picky about the size of the featured image.

20161021_090720

Photobombed by my Uncle. Best day ever.

 

There. Now, you can see Uncle’s hands above my head and behind me. That is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebye

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

Only a Little Burned

annabowling Leave a comment

There’s that moment when a writer has two thoughts that are simultaneous, true and alarming. Thought one: work on this book is going pretty well right now. That is awesome. Thought two: the oven buzzer should have gone off by now. That is not awesome. That is alarming. Set aside papers and laptops, plot route that does not involve tripping over cat (who does not understand the reason for the sudden haste) and make tracks, as quick as possible, to the kitchen. Once there, heave sigh of relief that oven is not engulfed in flames, and imagine the disappointment and cautioning words firefighter friends would have to say on the matter of unattended ovens.

Wrench open oven door and cast a glance at timer that is, sure enough, blinking “over” because that really helps when I am at the other end of the house, nose-deep in the eighteenth century and filling in the blanks of exactly where it is Hero goes when he throws himself out of his brother’s house (not going to lie, that was a moment when I fell a teensy bit more in love with Hero, because, really, who hasn’t wanted to bail on a family argument, when the same relative brought up the same issue for the millionth time? Go, Hero.)  Not that I am advocating recklessness with fire and/or electrical wiring, or throwing things in the oven, willy-nilly, before traipsing off to a prior century. (Or current or future, or alternate universe; fill in whichever applies to the individual) I am not doing that, but I am still working on the whole baking-is-good-for-the-writing-process thing, when both baking and writing require a certain amount of concentration. This time, I think I did okay. Still waiting for the bread to fully cool to find out if the level of crispy critteredness to which I subjected it while off playing with Hero is still fit for human consumption. I hope so, because the kitchen smells amazing.

cinnamonbread191016

Only a little burned, and that’s excess anyway, not the actual bread.

 

Right now, I’m keeping one eye on the clock, because Housemate will be home any minute, and I need to get this entry up, so further HLFK work may get nudged over into the evening, when the house is quiet again, and that is okay. One, I will (hopefully) have cinnamon bread to snack on while tending the story, and two, I got this. For a writer who has been through a total lack of confidence, to the point of creative paralysis, this is heady stuff. I can do this. Look at me go. Granted, some of that going isn’t always in a straight line, and I am probably going to come out of this particular draft with a few metaphorical skinned knees and burned baked goods. Book brain is a real thing, and, after climbing out of that particular black hole, I don’t think I’m ever going to resent it ever again.

Still roughly two hundred words and change until I hit the magic seven hundred. I’ve had to put my copy of A Certain Age, by Beatriz Williams, at the other end of the house, because I’m almost at the end, and if I can get my mitts on it, I am going to inhale that sucker like it’s water and I am dying of thirst. Even though Williams is shelved as fiction, her books are so packed full of so many things I love, and have, in many cases, been missing, in historical romance, that I want to absorb them into my skin and figure out how she does it. “Unusual” historical eras? (this one is 1920s NY) Check. Period feel so real that adjusting to 21st century life when I close the book feels wrong? Check. Black moments that are more like black hole moments, because we are working on negative hope here, but then, bam, HEA after all? Oh check yes. That. I want to do that. I want to be that.

acertainage

Guh. This book.

 

Thing is, I want to do my version of that. Ms. Williams writes in the early twentieth century. Right now, I am writing late eighteenth, and, by the time I type The End for the last time on Hero and Heroine’s story, I have no doubts my feet will get itchy to explore some other time and place. I will know what I need to know, when I need to know it. Right now, I have HLFK and the Beach Ball, my Heroes and Heartbreakers posts  (new one today, by the way, gushing all over Joanna Shupe’s Baron; go look: http://www.heroesandheartbreakers.com/blogs/2016/10/first-look-joanna-shupes-baron-october-25-2016) and this blog, which fills my plate nicely. From here, it’s left foot, right foot, etc, until I have arrived at my destination. If I arrive only slightly burned, I will consider that a win.

Real

annabowling 3 Comments

Another week, another blog entry, and the challenge I’ve set for myseslf today is that I can’t work on Her Last First Kiss, until I post this blog entry. Absolutely no idea what to put here, but tomorrow is breakfast with N, and I want to discuss a couple of things, which means I have to write a couple of things, so I’d better get on with this one.

This morning, I sent in a piece for Heroes and Heartbreakers, about Joanna Shupe’s latest entry in the Knickerbocker Club series, Baron. When I first heard there was going to be a series of historical romances set in New York’s Gilded Age, I literally cheered, and the three stories I have read in that world so far have not let me down. I’m now working on another piece, about the Knickerbockers series as a whole, and looking forward to having that to share soon.

Ten days ago, I noticed a new feature on Sandra Schwab’s illustrator Facebook page (she is also the author of one of my all time favorite gothic romances, Castle of the Wolf. Always count the gargoyles. Always. My desk has two.) – a contest for a free heroine portrait. At first, I thought, “wow, that would be cool,” scrolled past, and then scrolled right back, because we miss one hundred percent of the shots we don’t take. I typed a description of the qualities that make Heroine special to me, and hit send before I could talk myself out of it. (I am very good at talking myself out of things like this.) Back to work, business as usual, looking forward to reading about everyone else’s heroines. I have always been a heroine-centric reader and writer, so of course I want to hear about what other writers are doing with their heroines.

Imagine my surprise, later, when my direct message box pops up, with the notification that I won. :Blink: Did I read that right? :blink: Okay, I did. :blink: Oh good gracious, now I have to talk about her. I have to say her name. Well, technically, I already did, and that gave me some nervous tingles, because it’s not like there’s some super secret character naming cabal, and Hero and Heroine’s names aren’t super weird (I hope) or super boring (I hope) but I’ve been guarding them, because they’re part of this whole book baby, and I want to do right by it. By them. I did the only logical thing. Shut the window and paid very close attention to Doing Something Else. I am also very good at Doing Something Else.

Doing Something Else, in this case, lasted only so long before the part of me that screams “Ronkonkoma,” while running down the metaphorical pier at top speed, to cannonball into the water, kicked into gear. My cannonball, in this case, was to look at the information Sandra needed for the portrait, attach a reference picture I’ve been using when I need to describe Heroine, and hit “send.” There. Done. Now Do Other Things.

Fast forward to a few days later, when my direct message box pops up again, and my breath caught at the image beneath Sandra’s “How’s this?” Oh hey, Heroine, there you are. Her face was perfect, the colors exactly right, she had her pistol, and it was her. I’d know her anywhere. Heroine. I knew exactly the point in the story this would have been, and I actually shivered. I couldn’t wait to share her with everybo….wait a minute. There’s her name. On her picture. If I put this out there, everybody will know. Doom will fall. Doooooooooooooom. Writer people, you may identify with some of this.

I took a moment to regroup. 1) since this manuscript’s ultimate destination is publication, that means that I’m going to have to put Heroine’s name out there sometime. Nobody writes “Hero” and “Heroine” throughout the entire book. People are going to know her name. 2) it’s only her first name, and it’s the name she actually uses, not the name that would be on an official document, and yes, the actually used name is indeed a period appropriate pet form of the formal name, so the history police are going to have to shush on that one. 3) this is overthinking and we are cutting down on the overthinkings.

Toward that end, Ronkonkoma:

 
That’s her. That’s Ruby. Heroine. Part of the prize is the ability to use the image as a teaser, so that’s the next thing, selecting a short passage to go along with the image. That will mean I’ll have a teaser to share here. To show writer friends and readers. To put on the Coming Soon page (which needs some serious updating anyway.) I can’t back out if it’s there. If it’s real. The Ronkonkoma part of me already has plans to commission a Hero portrait (hey, baby steps) because they’re a pair, the two of them, and Heroine has good aim. I do not want to be on her bad side.

So. The picture is there. The next draft is in progress. I know where I’m going, how I’m getting there, and what happens along the way.  This is not only back on the horse, but once around the ring, moving forward. It’s real. Of course, it always was. The fact that the stories and characters who populate them exist in our heads doesn’t mean they aren’t real. This only means that, now, other people know it’s real. Small change, but a big one all the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Picking Up The Pace Edition

annabowling 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:

bur

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:

 

shamy

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,

skyebye

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

Antsy

annabowling Leave a comment

I’m ansty today. Part of it is that this is, technically speaking, Monday’s post on Thursday (how did it get to be Thursday?) if Wednesday’s post was indeed posted on Wednesday. If not, and it was Monday’s post, then this is yesterday’s. The fact that I am spending time on figuring this out is all part of the whole antsy thing. Do I have any idea where it came from? Not a clue. Strange hunger still doing its thing, which most likely means something is going through some sort of a change, but I did not get the memo on exactly what that something might be, so I get to try and figure it out as I go along.

That is not always a fun thing. I like knowing what’s going on, and I like having a plan to get those things done. Antsiness goes against that, in a big way. I like structure. I like road maps. All right, intuitive road maps, but my goal here is to get today’s babble done with, hit the magic seven hundred, and then reward myself with a short break. After that, I get to run away to the eighteenth century, and probably get out of the house while doing so, because A) making notes on printed pages can be done anywhere, and B) the waterfowl in Washington Park are doing this:

duckz

That’s an upside down Canada Goose in the middle of all that splashing. I like how calm his mate is, like “George? He does that all the time. No big deal. Got breadcrumbs?” I did not, in fact, have breadcrumbs (actually , frozen grapes would be better for goose and duck tummies) but I sat on that bench for a while, notebook and legal pad still inside my tote, because writing was not happening. Nope. Some days are like that. Some days, a gal has to go rogue and watch waterfowl get their weird on for an hour or so.

The gander (whom we will call George, because he seems like a George) had himself a fine time splashing about in the shallow water, and he did that for quite some time. I hadn’t expected him to go all feet-up like that, and, at first, thought that he’d hit that position by accident. I’ve never seen an upside-down goose before, and, who knows, that may be a George thing, and the other geese talk about him when they think he isn’t looking. Considering that he’s the big dude that threatens passersby, dogs, and tree limbs that look at his woman funny, maybe they don’t do it all that often, but still…feet. In. The. Air. Rolling about like I don’t even know what. I mean, what kind of goose actually goes around doing things like that? Right in front of the humans, too.

Maybe George is onto something. Maybe George was ansty, too. Maybe he’s got itchy wings and wants to head down to  Boca for the winter already, but Wilma (we will call his mate Wilma, because she looks like a Wilma) thinks the goslings aren’t ready for such a big trip yet, even though they look full grown to the humans. Then again, what do humans know? Maybe going upside down is something geese do all the freaking time, and this is only the first time this one human, personally, has seen it, so they think it’s new, but really, it’s Wednesday. Maybe the goslings have no idea what George and Wilma are going on about, because they’ve spent their entire lives in this lake. It is an awesome lake, and there is no reason to leave it. Parents, what do they know? Though the Mallards have been squawking about stopping over in Tennessee or maybe South Carolina, so the grownups could be onto something, but, dude, humans, breadcrumbs, it’s a sweet life.

Then there’s George. Maybe he was taking his regular bath, or maybe he needed to shake off some sort of goose-specific restlessness, but one thing I do know; for the hour or so I hung out around that part of the lake, earbuds in my ears, fiddling with the camera on my phone and waiting for George to do his thing again (he appears to be a champion at barrel rolls, which Wilma did not even attempt) I wasn’t antsy. It was me and it was George (and sometimes Wilma, occasionally their mallard friends) and everything else in my head sat on the back burner, where it was very much welcome to sort itself out.

As  much as I like order, some things need to simmer a while, and find their correct order on their own. Did I come away from the impromptu photo session completely refreshed and ready to take on the world? No. Did it shake off some of the antsiness? Some. Best thing that can be done at times like this is to catch the scent of what works, stay open to more of it, and follow it when I catch the next whiff. This is when I trust that the scent trail will lead to something good. Antsiness usually, for me, comes right before a growth spurt, and, with super powers returned, that’s not an entirely unsurprising concept.

Well over the magic seven hundred here, so throwing this out there, crossing it off my  list, and on to the rest of the day. My imaginary friends are calling.

Typing With Wet Claws: A Little Help From My Friends Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. There is a lot going on this week, so I will tell you about Anty’s writing first, right off the bat (nothing happened with bats, but it is October, after all, so I thought that was appropriate) before we do anything else.

Anty’s post on Buried Under Romance is all about identity issues this week. It is here:

http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/10/saturday-discussion-disguise-mistaken-identity-and-amnesia-oh-my.html and it looks like this:

bur071016

The crop tool in Paint was not made for those of us with paws instead of hands.

 

Anty is always happy to talk about books that she liked, and, this week, a post she wrote once upon a time, about one of those books, Watermark, by E. Catherine Tobler, got a mention on Alexis A. Hunter’s website to kick off Octoblerfest. The giveaway for that book is over now, but if you like speculative fiction, often with a romantic element, you might want to keep an eye on that website, for a chance at other books. The post where Anty’s post is linked is here https://alexisahunter.com/2016/10/01/octoblerfest-giveaway-1-watermark/. Maybe you will win the next giveaway.

I would also like to say thank you to one of my readers, Mr. Glen, who asked Anty if there had been a Feline Friday post last week. Anty assured him there was, and that I would never let my readers down. I take my duties as a mews very seriously. Thank you, Mr. Glen. In case you did miss that post, it is here: https://annacbowling.wordpress.com/2016/09/30/typing-with-wet-claws-mythical-vuvuzela-edition/ and it looks like this:

twwclastweek

A picture of this blog, on this blog; how meta is that?

For those who do not know, Mr. Glen is mystery author Glen Ebisch. I do not know if any of his books have cats in them, but they do have mystery and romance and you can find out more about them here: http://www.glenebisch.com/.

Okay, I think that is all of the housekeeping for this week. Well, apart from picking up my sheds, that is. I am shedding a lot of fur right now, to get ready for my super-floofy winter coat, which means our floors look like an old west ghost town. This has not prompted Anty to start thinking of western romance ideas, but one never knows. Right now, Anty is focused on Her Last First Kiss, and the Beach Ball. Also her posts for Heroes and Heartbreakers, but her novel-writing plate is full right now, and any other ideas are going to have to take a number and wait.

Last night, Anty and Anty Melva spent three times the amount of time they had set aside for their talk on Skype (I am still disappointed Skype has nothing to do with Skye pee, because I am really good at, well, you know. My once upon a time vet said he never saw so much you know what come out of one cat at one time, in his whole career. That has to be worth something.) because they decided to outline all of the scenes to take them to the end of the Beach Ball, and that is exactly what they did. They both threw their arms up in the air and shouted when they got to the end of the outline. That was loud. I am happy they are happy, though. A happy writer human makes the job of a mews that  much easier.

Now that the smoke alarms are fixed, and the new people litterbox has been installed, it is much quieter around here. Apart from when Anty plays music without her headphones, that is. I do not mind when she plays soft music. Usually, I will curl into a ball and go to sleep when she plays soft music. If she plays loud music, I will wake up and give her a look that says I am Not Happy. She will usually apologize, but she is the human, after all, and the music is part of the way she works, so if it is too loud, I will go hide under the bed until the loud part is over. There are not too many loud parts, but only every once in a while.

Now that Anty has leveled up on both books, my job is a little bit different. It is easier for her to figure out how much work should be done on a given day, when she knows exactly where she is going and how she is going to get there. When that happens, she is excited to get to work each day, and sometimes gets a little grumbly when it is time to stop. She likes to work on one scene at a time, and figures that she’ll know the details she needs to know when she needs to know them. If she has to think too hard about a thing, then it is probably not the right thing. The best stories are the ones that talk to her. It is not exactly the stories writing themselves, but it does not hurt when they carry their share of the load.

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

i1035 FW1.1

Until next week…

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

This Book Now

annabowling 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.

 

Sprechen Sie Romance?

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Of course I have to start with the Post-Its. There is no such thing as too many Post-Its. if they come in their own holder, so that I can take them on the road, all the better. This particular specimen comes from a filing crate Housemate hauled out of the storage unit, because I am at the point of needing to print out drafts and mark them with colored pens and sticky notes (hence the Post-Its.) There is also a wheeled cart that goes with the filing crate, which also has file space, as well as storage for other things, so there will be archaeology and probably some paper shredding and then organization. This is all good stuff, and I am looking forward to setting off on this particular leg of the journey.

I already know I am not doing NaNoWriMo this year, though I will happily shake pompoms on the sidelines and cannot guarantee I won’t at least attempt to sneak into a write-in or two over the course of the month, but participating as such isn’t for me. I can count words or I can write the draft. I can’t do both. No guilt this year, no will I/won’t I or should I/shouldn’t I, because I’m doing the head down, eyes on my own paper thing. That tends to work better for me right now, keeps me motivated, and got me through an outline and bullet point daft, so I think it’s safe to say that’s likely to work for this phase as well.

Hypercritical Gremlins don’t seem to find this approach terribly interesting,  which I take as a good sign, because they’ve been quiet as of late, only the faintest muttering from the corners of their closet. This may  have had something to do with my reorganizing the notebooks I keep in said closet, but that’s beside the point. The point is, it’s Monday, it’s October, and my job, from now until lunch, is to look over the very first scene I wrote for Her Last First Kiss, which is now the second scene, first written, then taken out, now put back in, but needing some fairly major surgery to get it going.

I’m okay with that, and I’m not surprised. When I first wrote the scene, I didn’t know exactly where I was going. All I knew was that I had to get Hero onto the page, and I did, but I didn’t know him then, not the way I do now, because I hadn’t spent all that time with him yet. He certainly hadn’t opened up to me yet, so this poking-things-in-the-dark-with-a-long-pointy-stick approach isn’t that bad, all things considered, but there is significant room for improvement. Which is okay. This book is going the distance, so I’m not worried about that. I have my roadmap, I know where I’m going and how I’m getting there, so that makes it easier, when looking at what I’ve already written, to make the course corrections when needed.

One such correction goes into slightly scary territory (though that is kind of a theme for the month, so appropriate.) – I really do need a historical romance critique partner. This is historical romance, because that’s what I write. The love story is the story, and if I took it out of its particular setting, it would fall apart. This means I have to tread into asking for what I want territory, and that’s…I already said scary, so something else. Intimidating, maybe? No, not quite. I have writer friends I am close to, whom I love dearly, but historical romance isn’t their focus. One is on hiatus, for family reasons, another is no longer in my life, another lives two hundred miles away, others,whom I can see or speak to frequently, touch lightly on romance as an element of other genres, and… imagine gif of person flailing in open water here.

There’s a scene in the series finale of the Highlander TV show, where the hero, Duncan, follows one of the bad guys for I don’t even remember how long anymore, running through multiple languages while trying to get them to talk to him. Do they speak English? No? French? No? Spanish? No? Russian? No? Italian? No? How about Mandarin? Gaelic? Klingon? Okay maybe he didn’t try Klingon, I am very sure I got the languages and their orders wrong, and, since it was the series finale, he probably got them to some sort of resolution, because that’s all the time they had to resolve stuff, but I can identify, to some extent. RWA does have a critique partner matching thingityboo, and I will probably look into that, and yet…there’s still the hunger to sit in the same room with someone who speaks my native tongue, preferably same dialect.

Where is this going? Darned if I know, but what I do know is that I have a date with chapter two that was once chapter one, and I’ll figure things out as I go. I do my part, my imaginary friends do theirs. Now if I can only figure out how to get them to pick up the check when I take them out to the coffee house…..

Typing With Wet Claws: Mythical Vuvuzela Edition

annabowling 1 Comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is the end of September today, which means tomorrow is the start of October, when Anty’s super powers level up, and Anty does, too. Her birthday is later this month. Have I mentioned that Anty loves birthdays? They do not always have to be hers; she likes birthdays in general, but hers is one week before Halloween, which means there are lots of skull and bat themed things around. That means it is her time of year to get things she will use all year long. It also starts off the whole holiday season, from her birthday through Valentine’s Day (Anty has a very broad definition of “holiday season”) so that makes her happy.

What also makes her happy is having things written for me to tell you about before we get started. This week, there are two. On Buried Under Romance, Anty asks if it is possible for romance readers  to have too much of a good thing. That post is here: http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/09/saturday-discussion-too-much-of-a-good-thing.html and it looks like this:

bur300916

Is there such a thing as too many books?

 

Then, because it is the end of the month, the blogger humans at Heroes and Heartbreakers talk about their favorite reads of the month. This month, Anty’s choice was an easy one, because some books have that much of an impact. You can read about that, and the choices of other blogger humans (I do not think the editors asked any blogging cats, but maybe they will do that some other time) here: http://www.heroesandheartbreakers.com/blogs/2016/09/hah-bloggers-recommend-best-reads-september-2016 and it looks like this:

handhbestseptember

Fun fact: Anty almost picked The Hunter, by Kerrigan Byrne, too.

Okay, that is enough of that. I have been working very hard as a mews this week. When Anty is at  her secretary desk, in her office, I sit outside the door and stare at her. I still do not know what to make of the carpet in there. It is different from the carpet in the bedroom (I love the carpet in the bedroom) and the hardwood floor that is in the other rooms (except for the bathroom, kitchen and hallway, which are linoleum.) I want to be as close to Anty as possible, especially when she is writing, and I am very interested in her new chair,  but that office carpet puts me off, so that is why I stay outside the door. If the carpet were gone, I would probably come in, but it has furniture on it. Maybe someday, the humans will move it; then we will see.

Anty is still vexed (that is an old timey word, vexed. It means bothered.) and confused by the printer. It says its paper tray is empty, but it is not empty, and then when Anty tries to print, it says the paper is jammed. So, which is it, empty or jammed? Mama says they should get a new printer, but Anty says they would have a perfectly good printer if they can convince it that it is neither empty nor jammed. They may have to take it to the computer doctor, because Anty is getting to the stage in both books where she needs to print out her chapters and write things on those pages with pens.

Part of that is because that is how Anty’s brain works best, and part of it is because of the way the people vet looked at Anty when she told him how many hours a day she spends looking at a computer screen. She is making an effort to do more non-screen things when she can, such as reading paper books and giving her eyes a break by looking at things that are more than an arm’s length away every ten to fifteen minutes. Since I like to sit exactly out of arm’s reach (in case there is a chance I might be picked up; I do not like being picked up and would rather stay on the floor) I am doing my part to keep Anty from eyestrain. When her eyes need a break, she can look at me. As long as she is looking at me, she can take a short walk (to my bowl) and feed me. I am looking out for her exercise needs as well. I take my mews duties very seriously.

Because Landlady Human sent her husband over with a ladder, so he could change the batteries in the smoke detectors, it is mostly quiet here now. I say mostly because Anty is using her headphones to listen to music right now, and because the chirping smoke alarms have been replaced by a vuvuzela player in the basement. I am kidding on that last part. We do not really have a vuvuzela player in the basement. One of our downstairs neighbors is a step dancer, though, and her troupe rehearses in the basement, but without vuvuzela accompaniment, as far as I know. The sound comes from air coming through our pipes, but the handyman human is working on that, so it will be quiet again soon.

Other than that, things are falling into place for what Anty hopes will be a productive autumn. She is making progress on Her Last First Kiss and the Beach Ball, and has several posts for Heroes and Heartbreakers in the works, which means she has a lot of reading to do. She likes all of those things, so that works out well. That is also about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

i1035 FW1.1

Until next week…

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