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Typing With Wet Claws: Direcat Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for a slightly later than usual Feline Friday. Anty has been busy this week, as we get things with Uncle and people vets sorted out. I am happy to report that he still does not have to wear the cone of shame and does not have to take as many pills after we saw the most recent people vet. I imagine Anty is relieved, but mostly, right now, she is tired.

I am writing this post on Mama’s laptop, because Anty’s has decided it does not like the internet anymore, or maybe it thinks that now the tablet can do all that internet stuff. Either way, this means that Mama’s laptop is now everybody’s laptop, and the humans have to work out a schedule to share it so that everybody gets their fair shot at things. I am glad the tablet is kitty sized, though touch screens can be tricky if you have paws instead of fingers. Anty is looking at other laptops that might be better to use than trying to navigate among several computers that can each do part of the job. We will keep you updated on that search. It is going to take a lot of hunting, but things will calm down when that is settled.

One good thing that has happened in all of this is that Anty has discovered Game of Thrones. That is the TV series, not the books, at least not yet. She and Mama have started calling me their direcat. I do not know exactly what that entails, (hah, see what I did there? Entails? Because I have a tail.) but I did find this sigil generator, and I made my own sigil:

JoinTheRealm_sigil

If you want to make your own sigil, too, the generator I used is here. If you do make your own sigil, for yourself, or your pet, or maybe your characters, if you write, please feel free to share a link to what they look like in the comments. Anty would love to see them.

My favorite episode so far is “The Pointy End,” because that is the episode where a kitty got away from a young human who was chasing him. I am very proud of that kitty. That was some good running. I should note that this is not a show for gentle viewers who do not like to see Bad Things happen, or Very Private Things, either. Anty is not phased. She knows it is pretend, and she likes stories with very high stakes. She says she knows this show is in the fantasy genre, but it feels more like historical fiction to her. I can see where she gets that. She did not like what happened to Lady, and she would really like to see more romance (and not between siblings, thank you) but it is still a very good story so far, and makes her want to see more of an epic feel in historical romances, because she would very much like to write something like that in historical romance.

First, though, she would like to take a nap. That will probably not happen for a while, since she has a lot of writing to do. That is not always easy when the machines on which she writes are giving her guff, as Uncle calls it. Anty says that having notebooks helps her a lot in this regard, because they only crash if they fall off the table. The worst that can happen then is that she will lose her place, but that is usually easy to fix, because that is usually where the writing stops. Unless she was transcribing, and then it might get trickier, but she does like to change ink colors for every session, so if she knows she was on pages written in red ink, that narrows things down when she needs to find her place again. That is very useful when she has to stop to tend to domestic tornadoes or feed me or other important stuff like that.

One good thing about technology is that the camera cord came in the mail today. That means that there will be new pictures of me, and probably also of ducks (Anty says that the ducklings are teenagers now; the girls have blue stripes under their wings and the boys have green heads. There are more girls than boys, if you are counting.) and probably notebooks, too. Anty has a stack of Picadilly notebooks she would like to hack, but she needs to do some more writing first. When a writer has been dealing with other things, even if they are very important,then the writer will miss writing, and they may get grumpy and short tempered. In those cases, it is best to tread carefully and let them do what they need to do. Giving kitties treats also helps, I have found. At least it helps me.  People snacks probably will help the writer, too.

Sharing one laptop  among three humans and one kitty means that we only get a certain amount of time to use it, and that is about it for my time right now. Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Typing With Wet Claws: Learning Curve Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. We are closing in here on the first full week of Anty being able to use her office. So far, so good. She still has some things left to do, like see if the printer will work with her tablet (I suspect that will be noisy, if it does, so part of me hopes it does not. On the one paw, Anty would be happy that she could print things, but on the other paw, she would be able to print things. I am not yet sure what I think about this possibility.) The camera cable remains missing, so I had to put up one of my greatest hits pictures today. I will enjoy this reprieve as much as I can, because once she does have a camera cable agin, she will be back at taking pictures.

She has tried taking my picture with the tablet camera, but that did not turn out very well. Part of that is the fact that Anty has trouble with depth perception. Part of it is that Anty has trouble with technology. Part of it is that the camera is in the front of the tablet, and it is difficult for Anty to see what she is trying to photograph unless she is trying to photograph herself. Even then, she generally gets pictures where her face is very big or she only gets the top of her (or my) head. She did manage to get all of Mama’s head in one picture, but she was not trying to take a picture of Mama, and Mama did not want her picture taken, so that did not turn out well for anybody.

This coming week, Mama will be going to where we used to live, to help Grandma at the people vet. This means that I will stay home with Uncle and Anty. I am still not sure I want to go into Anty’s office, even though that is where she is spending most of her weekdays now. This is a dilemma for a kitty. On the one paw, I want to be near Anty. On the other paw, there is carpet. Did I mention that the carpet is rather me-colored? I have to take that into consideration, especially combined with Anty’s lack of depth perception. I am sure we will figure something out. For now, she is working in the office with the door open (except when Uncle is around and she really needs to concentrate; then it is closed) and hoping that I will get curious as to what she is doing in there.

I think she is curious about what she is doing in there, too, but it seems to be working so far. Some humans say it takes twenty-eight days to make a habit, other humans say it is more like sixty, and still others say that it is best to take it one day at a time. What Anty is doing is remembering the way she knows works best for her – jump in and figure it out from there, then start mushing everything into order. Mama has started asking Anty to make lists for her, which is probably a good thing. Making lists makes Anty very happy, and making sure that I could post my blog today was part of Anty’s list for the day.

Most days are starting to work something like this:  Anty has breakfast with Mama (Uncle gets up later, because he works later and goes to sleep later) and then goes into her office. She will usually do some free writing in her notebook with the vampire on the cover. This does not mean she is writing about vampires (she tried to once; it did not go well.) She likes the picture on the cover, the paper inside is smooth and has roses on the corners, and she can use a fountain pen on it. Free writing means she puts down whatever is on her mind at the time, usually two to four pages, and then she makes her list for the day.

this sign goes on the door when Anty *really* does not want to be disturbed.

this sign goes on the door when Anty *really* does not want to be disturbed.

Writing tasks have to go on the list first, as writing is her job and she has to treat it that way. She used to put things like “write” on the list, but that was too vague, so now it is more like “outline the scene in Her Last First Kiss where Heroine first meets Hero.” Now that she knows what she was missing from this story, that means she needs to rip apart the outline she already had and make a new one but it will work out better (though I do not think there are any cats in this version, either, and the dog gets a bigger part. Hmph. Maybe there will be cats in the next book.) She has her plot board and sticky notes out, so I know what she is going to do tomorrow, when Mama and Uncle are both out hunting. She is making noises about printing pictures if she can get the tablet and printer to talk to each other. It is a good thing the office is on the other end of the house.

Anty also puts down when she has to read books that she has to write about for Heroes and Heartbreakers, and sets a specific time or amount of chapters she has to read. Sometimes it takes her a little while to get into the rythym. of reading a particular story, but once she does, then she can read it faster. She likes to read fast. Reading that she has to write about counts as writing, too, so that is also important.

After that, is reading things written by humans she knows, and telling them what she thinks about it. Humans call this critiquing or beta reading. There is a difference, but it is hard to explain to kitties. Anty is currently doing that for two writers friends, and needs to send one of them something that she is writing. She should probably do that soon, before she talks herself out of it. That is what she does when she gets nervous. That is probably because she cannot fit under the bed, like I do.

Well, that is about it for this week. Anty needs to write more about the dog part, so she will need the computer back. Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Juggling Chainsaws

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“Running, always you have to keep going. You need to die running.”
-Hyvon Ngetich

My morning pages today began with “I have a lot of reasons to not like this day.” It’s true. One, I am not a summer person. June is unaguably summer, though the calendar says we’re still in spring for nineteen more days. Today is gray and cool and rainy, though, so that is one thing in today’s favor. Pictures may be greatest hits for a while, unless I can master the art of the front facing tablet camera, or you may need to settle for views of what my work area is looking at (aka me) instead of the other way around. We’ll see how that goes. Domestic tornadoes continue to blow through our family, and I am adding another phrase to the ever-expanding lexicon: juggling chainsaws.

That’s what it feels like at times, one disaster or irritation (and some things can be both at the same time) piling up and me wondering how I’m going to get everything done. This weekend brought a few of those, and since my track record of getting through interesting times seems to be one hundred percent so far, I can only assume it’s going to continue, and so the best thing to do is carry on.

Those who know me well know that the only thing better than making a list is prioritizing the list, and the only thing better than prioritzing the list is checking things off the list, and the only thing better than checking things off the list is checking the last thing off the list. So, that’s how I started my day. For some things, the only way to handle them (maybe these would be the chainsaws with the safety gaurd on) is to haul out my favorite Polish proverb: Not my circus, not my monkeys, and carry on. Those are the things I can’t control, or that are somebody else’s job. Not worth my time and energy, because I am needed elsewhere. The things on my list are the things that I can make a difference on, and, thankfully, most of those have to do with writing.

After a stretch of years (longer than I would care to count) when the thing I love most, writing, was the hardest thing in the world to do, it’s good to love writing again, and that’s where I want my time and energy to go. There’s a note torn from a pocket Moleskine on my fallen bulletin boad in my getting-a-lot-more-comfortable office, that says “You’re in the factory. Make the product.” This comes to me from somebody else, through somebody else, rephrased by me, because the original thing had something about making words and “making words” puts me in a mental muscle cramp, so I don’t do that. I tell stories. Yes, because I write books and blog posts, words are involved, but the focus for me isn’t the individual words, but the stories, and the characters who live in them.

In Anne Lamott’s classic Bird by Bird, she talks about using a one inch picture frame to focus on one aspect of a big job at one time. The whole thing doesn’t matter right now, only this one thing. I find that useful, because making order out of chaos is A) something I’ve found I am suprisngly good at doing, and B) it’s fun for me. So, lists. Notebooks. Sticky notes. Even now, my blood pumps a little faster at the thought of taking down the bulletin board that’s been there for months, with the same “I don’t know what I’m doing right now” stuff tacked up on it, because, well, writers should have stuff tacked on their bulletin boards, right?

Eh, maybe. Maybe I need to look at the blank space and the order will present itself. What I do know is that the frame around my time has gone into place. From nine to five, I am at work. Today’s quote comes from Hyvon Ngetich, not a writer, but a runner. Her body gave out during the Austin marathon, with two tenths of a mile yet to go. She was offered a wheelchair by medical personnell, but refused it and crawled, yes, crawled, to the finish line on her own. She came in third. Not too shabby there, madam.

Running and I are not friends (gals who are, um, bountifully endowed, as well as non-athletic people, you know what I mean) but I admire the heck out of this woman for her perseverence. I want that. I need that. I take that. I put it in a one inch picture frame and focus on that to get the job done. Wriitng is a curious combination of fancy and practicality, which I find more curious by the day, and that only makes me want it more.

Today, I get to dip into several worlds in turn. I get to write a review of a book I got to read before it goes on sale, which already feels like a special privilege, and share why it’s awesome. I get to make concrete plans to begin work on my first collaboration in years, with a writer friend I’ve wanted to work with for over a decade. I get to push everything else aside and spend time in Georgian England with a hero and heroine I love like crazycakes, and I get to research romance novels that tap into the legendary romance of Robin Hood and Maid Marian (any favorites, guys and gals?) Not bad for a day’s work, I’d say.

See you later, because office hours have begun.

Typing With Wet Claws: Loud and Cordless Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. My picture is very dark this week, because Anty misplaced the USB cord that connects her camera to her computer and has to rely on pictures she has already uploaded until she can replace or locate the cord. I do not blame her much, because this week has been a big one.

On Tuesday, Landlady came to the house with Handyman, to make sure that the apartment was ready for a state inspection for loud buzzy things. I do not know why the state wants us to have loud buzzy things in our house. Anty says it is because those are smoke alarms and will help us if there is a fire. I can understand that, but did that mean humans had to ring the doorbell that much?

When a human who does not have a key wants to come inside, they press the doorbell outside, and it rings inside. It is loud. It is a metal thing that bangs against another metal thing and it makes a buzz we can feel in the floor. It scares me, and Anty and Uncle and Mama do not like it, either. On Tuesday, it rang a lot. Uncle sometimes sleeps during the day because he works hard in the evenings. I sleep whenever I want, because I am a kitty. The doorbell woke us both up, and then strange humans came inside. One of them changed all the buzzy things to new buzzy things. He had to get on a ladder to do that, and then had to make the buzzy things buzz to make sure we would know when a fire happens.

I thought that was going to be it, but that was not it. Landlady came back on Thursday, with a different human she called Inspector, to check all the buzzy things again. This meant more doorbells, but Inspector only looked at the buzzy things. He was smart enough to know from looking at them that they would work, and he was as quiet as he could be so that Uncle could rest and I would not be too scared. I still went under the bed, to make double sure.

Anty has found this week a challenging one for work. For one thing, when she wants to clean the apartment, it is best to get out of her way and let her do it. She says that her story people talk to her when she is doing that kind of thing, so it is kind of like working, but she gets impatient and would like to have all that stuff written down (I wonder if she could dictate to me, since I have my own computer now. Maybe once the keyboard gets fixed at the computer vet. I am already fixed. That happened at the regular vet, before I got adopted.) Then there were the afternoons spent waiting for the inspection related things and it did not help that she misplaced the USB cord. Losing essential things like that makes her cranky. Without the cord, she can take all the pictures she wants, but she cannot edit or upload them. She cannot share pictures of her work area, ducks, books, or me. I can see why that would make her cranky. She chased me around the living room with the tablet this morning, trying to get a picture of me with that. It did not end well. All she got were some pictures of her own face. She is not sure she wants to share those but one never knows.

Reading can go a long way toward making Anty un-cranky, so she should do more of that.. Since it is that time of month again, she shared her best read of May over at Heroes and Heartbreakers. A lot of other bloggers shared their favorites, too. Maybe Anty should try some of those books as well, because she still has some un-cranking to do. The post is here and it looks like this:

H&H Best Reads of May

H&H Best Reads of May

Yesterday, after the inspector and Landlady left, Anty wanted to work on her book, so she headed to the coffee house. Things did not go as planned there, either, as Scrivener would not work for her at all, and that is where she is writing the book, which meant that was a problem. She would have searched online for a solution, but, in keeping with the rest of the week, her laptop would not hold onto the wifi signal. She was not happy with that and wrote on something else in Word for a while, then came home and took a nap. She is making grumbly noises today, too, which makes me think another nap may be in order. For me, if not for her.

One thing that makes Anty happy today is that Twitter has two special hashtags to focus on historical romance: #WhyIReadHistoricals and #WhyIWriteHistoricals. If you already follow Anty, you may have read her entries already. If you do not follow her yet, you can do so here.

That is about it for this week. Anty wants to give Scrivener another go, so I will sign off for now and see you next week (maybe sooner if Anty is too cranky to blog on her regular days.) Until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Typing With Wet Claws: Recalibration Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. We are all catching our breath here, because it was a very big week for the humans. Anty and Mama had to go to where we used to live, to see Mama’s mama, who was at the people vet. The people vet says Grandma is doing well and she does not have to wear the cone of shame. That is a big relief. Also a big relief is that a big challenge that came up this week got resolved. Anty says thank you to those who were concerned and asked how we were doing.

Even when Anty goes on the road to take care of nonwriting things, she still wants to get some writing done. She may need to make a couple more trips before things are settled-settled (or Mama may go on her own if Anty is needed here) so getting a travel version of her home office (which in itself is in flux; that is a fancy human word that means things are changey) is essential. She took both computers with her this time; her regular laptop and her tablet (which is really more kitty sized than human sized, and I could have used it to talk to her while she was gone) as well as some notebooks.

i1035 FW1.1

this one is for freewriting

Note the frames drawn around the unlined pages. Anty found that trick on a notebook website when she was not sure she could use unlined pages. Then she read the tip about drawing a box around them, and now she likes them very much. She sometimes draws boxes around lined pages and then makes a big colored band on the outside of the box. This time, it was only a box and no color, and she wrote down what she was feeling about what was going on in life. That helps keep her brain from getting jumbled, so the stories have a clear path. At least, that is how I think it works.

Anty had a new post at Heroes and Heartbreakers this week, recapping the newest episode of Outlander, “Wentworth Prison.” It is here and it looks like this:

not for young viewers

not for young viewers

Some people do not like things like the scenes Anty had to recap in this episode, but Anty says they do not make her scared. She finds them interesting, and likes to see what it is that makes humans get through tough times like the humans in Outlander do. My Anty Mary (Mama and Anty got to visit Anty Mary while they were on their trip) reminded Anty that Anty needs to get the first season of Game of Thrones, because Anty will find that very interesting. Anty would like to, and she would also like more hours in the day, but they would probably get filled with laundry and things like that.

Anty also likes when books have people go through interesting things, so she is always glad to find (and write) books where that happens. She was very happy to find some books like that in the storage unit when she went to look for something else. She has read the books on the left and right before, but wanted to have them on the shelf in her office, and she had been looking for the book in the middle for a long time. Finding it in the middle of a tough day made her day a lot better.

I was named for one of these books...

I was named for one of these books…

Now that Anty is back home, she is making lists and seeing what needs to be done to get back on track. There is some talk of a new desktop computer arriving in the not too distant future. We will have to see how that affects me. I suspect that it will be scary at first, but then I will get used to it, and Anty will do more of her writing at home. This will probably require me to make some sort of peace with the office carpet. I suppose we all have our challenges.

Until next week...

Until next week…

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

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

Okay Not to be Okay

annabowling Leave a comment

Once in a while, life drops a bomb on all of us. That’s what’s happened in our family this week, and I’m not sure how much I want to write about it here, because this is a writing blog, and this isn’t a writing thing. It impacts my writing, of course, as time spent wrangling family stuff is time spent not writing, but it is also, as everything in a writer’s life, going to end up in a story someday. But writing about the thing itself? Ehhhh, don’t know yet. It’s still fresh. Still dealing with the things-that-need-to-be-done-now and making plans and considering contingencies and and and and and…

…there are a lot of ands. A lot of ifs, a lot of maybes, a lot of we could trys, a lot of I don’t knows. Life can be scary sometimes, and it looks like this may be one of those times. Even so, writing remains my happy place. Going into the story world and closing the door behind me isn’t so much an escape -the other stuff will still be there when I come out again- but more of a respite. It’s some time away that fills em so that I am better able to deal with what’s going on when I’d really rather be writing.

One good thing about writing in the midst of chaos, besides the respite, is that it crystallizes things. I want this. I want to keep writing the main focus of my life.  I will gaurd it and chase it and hunt it down with a club when I need to, because I need it. There’s a power in knowing this is why I am here, and this is the genre I love and I have stories yet to tell, so what other people call “real life” is going to have to calm down and take a seat so that I can get down to business. Sometimes, that will mean I can hunker down with laptop and go clickety clack on the keys for hours. Sometimes, that means I can scrible in my pocket notebook or on an index card or jot something down on the back of a receipt or napkin and keep on going with whatever else the day has demanded of me, but the main thing remains. I can’t turn it off. Not even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to, so I won’t.

Which brings me to the title of this post. There are going to be times, in life and in writing, when things are going great. There are going to be times, in life and in writing, when things are going the exact opposite way and crawling under a rock sounds like a good idea…but nothing gets done there. What I’ve had to tell myself is that it’s okay not to be okay at times. Let the feelings do their job, but don’ t dwell on them. Feel what it feels like to be angry, afraid, confused, exhausted, exhilerated, at wits’ end, triumphant, defeated, whatever it is. Feel it. Remember it. This, too is grist for the mill, and because we write, because we read, we know the black moment comes before the resolution. If things are at their chaotic-est, that’s probably because it’s the middle of the story.

To be continued…

Office Hours, aka Day Camp of the Mind

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On my own, I found my place outside the lines.
–Kathleen Bittner Roth

Sometimes, a writer has to bust out. This morning, I escaped the loving bosom of my family and headed for the park, to set up a temporary office on the picnic table beside the lake. I’ve learned that I need to know what I’m doing, and that writing things down means I can put the giant jumble of ideas in my head in some sense of order and then prioritize. This all made sense out in the open air, looking at ducks between bullet points, but now that I am inside and should be able to focus, my brain wants to wander.

got all my ducks in a row...

getting my ducks in a row…

One of the reasons I’m here right now is that I am committed to blogging three times a week, and if I put off posting until the weekend (after Skye’s post tomorrow) I will be fried. That’s not going to do anybody any good, so I will probably talk all around Robin Hood’s barn, as a high school English teacher used to say (ignoring the fact that Robin Hood did not have a barn; he was an outlaw who lived in the woods, ahem. Maybe he had a barn back at Locksley, but he’s over that now, and it wouldn’t have been one of his priorities, anyway. Now, where was I?) before I get to the point, if indeed there is one. Until then, there are waterfowl. My trip to the park yesterday netted me a peek at the first babies of the season. The Canada geese have spawned, three fuzzy yellow bebehs. The parents wasted no time in letting me know that picture time was over as soon as I got this shot.

Goslings!

Goslings!

I hadn’t expected to make such a connection, but as I settled in at the picnic table, with notebook and pen (after finding out that the sun made it impossible to see much on my tablet screen) it hit me why I liked working from the park in the morning as much as I do. It reminds me of day camp. Odd connection to make, but there it was. Maybe it was the travel mug full of Diet Coke talking, or maybe it was the chance to be seated on weathered wood, under the shelter of shady branches, immersed, as I often was during those long-ago day camp summers. I hated sports, largely because I was A) sun sensitive (still am) and B) nearsighted (still am) and I never fit in with most of the other kids. There was Them and there was me, and no matter how much I wanted to join in, I could never quite make the edges of the puzzle come together. Either I’d hang with the counselors (I was always more comfortable with adults, even as a kid) or I’d stay by myself.

If I couldn’t fit in with my real life peers (though, really, were they?) then I would create them in my head. I didn’t know that was writing, then, and I was surprised and perplexed to learn that not everybody did it. I loved Barbie dolls because they were, to me, tiny actors who never objected to my choice of costumes, roles or situations. Finally, a way to give faces and bodies to the voices in my head. I still remember my parents’ befuddlement when the first thing I did with my Jane and Johnny West action figures (12 inch, fully articulated cowgirl and cowboy) was make them reenact the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. (Signs your kindergartener will grow up to be a historical romance writer for one hundred, Alex.)

I didn’t bring dolls to day camp; I knew enough to do that, but when our counselors took us to the outdoor sunken basketball court and explained their variation on Red Rover, involving an orgre who lived beneath the blacktop and could come out of the storm drain, I soaked that like a sponge and created a princess who wanted to escape the ogre’s clutches, and what was supposed to be normal kids-running-around stuff became a mix of Nordic myth, various fairytales (not the sanitized Brothers Grimm version, not this girl) and probably some mix of whatever cartoon had held my interest at the time. When it came time to head to the pool for swimming, there were mermaids or a trip to Atlantis. A good deal of the time, I didn’t notice when the other kids didn’t want to play because I had friends who lived in my stories. Best of all were the times when I’d find a kindred soul and could entice them to play along.

It’s somewhat like that now, when I head to the park. The characters in my WIPs tag along, and, if I’m meeting reistance in a scene or a concept, it’s usually that I’m trying to force the characters to do something they wouldn’t. While we take a loop around the lake, in search of waterfowl, sipping a cold drink from our travel mug, or set up shop at the picnic table, the restraints fall away. The walls come down, as it were. I’m not sure if this is because the great outdoors is a good equalizer, and more familiar to my historical people than a recliner or ergonomic chair and blinking cursor on a blank screen, but I can’t discount it.

Even in those day camp years, my default story setting was the long ago and usually far away. I can’t explain it, other than the fact that I’m hardwired for historicals. The British Isles thing, I can maybe explain; our closest neighbors when I was little were a lovely Scottish couple, and my mom’s best friend was a British expat.  I soaked in the accents and the mannerisms, the folk tales and other bits that I’m sure I didn’t even realize, and they became part of me, part of the worlds I created when the physical one didn’t fit. Some things, I am happy to report, never change.

'ello, ducks...

‘ello, ducks…

Cranky Day, Lessons Learned, and Random Waterfowl

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It’s not even one o’clock, and I’m cranky. It’s one of those days. We were promised thundershowers. I am looking at brilliant sun through the clouds. I did not ask for brilliant sun. It burns. Yesterday was productive, I was looking forward to more of the same today, and yet…ugh. Hit the wall. Not my favorite thing to do, but writing a blog entry gets at least one thing knocked off my to-do list.

Since I am grumpy today, but want to get this entry up, I am going to be lazy and draw from yesterday’s productivity. I had my all purpose notebook with me and did some writing on Things I Have Learned about the way  I, personally, write. These may or may not be of use to anybody else, but if I get this entry written, I get to bribe myself with a walk, which should bust me out of my funk, so here we go:

  • The goal/task list I make on Monday mornings is my set of goals for the week, not the for the day. I do not want to say how long it took me to realize that, but I finally get it now.
  • I need to write stuff down, or I will lose it. Writing it down also means that I get to play with pens and paper and highlighters. I am a visual person.  If I like looking at the page, I will want to spend time there.
  • Bullet points are life. That’s how my brain works best when getting stuff out.
  • I don’t count words when writing a first draft. That completely paralyzes me, and I’ll shut down. Not going there again. Let me tell the story, though, and watch me fly. I think in terms of scenes. Bullet point draft the scene, smooth it out, get feedback, move on.
  • Yes, I do need to talk about the WIPs. I have tried, very hard, to follow respected advice to keep mum, and, for me, that kills the story. I’m talking flatline. It’s dead, Jim. Pinining for the fjords. An ex-story, as it were.
  • I don’t mean talking the story to death, which I have also done. I have a time travel romance that I really, really love, like crazy love, on life support. It’s been there for years now, and I still can’t pull the plug. Still waiting for all the toxins –too much advice, from too many people, who wanted the book to be things other than what it was, and still is, often contradictory and mutually exclusive- to filter out of its system. Then we’ll see what we can do, but lesson learned.
  • The happy medium is, for me, finding one or two trusted writer friends (and not always the same ones for every project) upon whom I can unleash my verbal onslaught, over cups of tea or instant message (or both at the same time) and keep it at that. For me, thinking and talking often happen at the same time. If I’m stumped by blank page or screen, talking it out is a lifesaver. Sometimes, I don’t know what I’m saying until I’ve said it. Then I’m good, and I can get the story down.
  • I don’t know how many times I’ve started a conversation with “I  have no idea where this story is going,” then spew my verbal sludge at a writer friend, only to be told that’s the whole outline right there. Often with extraneous details filed off, but one of these days, I will get smart and record these blathers. Probably when I can get someone else to transcribe them for me, because I’m one of those people weirded out by their own voice on recordings. Speech to text software is also an option.
  • One of the CRRWA members asked, at this past weekend’s meeting, how it is that I’ve met my personal goals (self set, shared with the group and accounted for at meetings) every month since we began the program. What I said at the time was something along the lines of, “um, I like writing?” but that was also the portion of the day where being asked my favorite TV show stymied me to the point I could only mumble something about Bones, and that after some prompting. (For the record, currently How I Met Your Mother, but not the finale, which I refuse to acknowledge, though if we’re talking only shows in current production, The Walking Dead. Those choices probably say something about me, but I don’t want to examine it too closely. Said choices may change tomorrow, but those are they at the time the question was asked. )
  • What I would have said if not caught on the spot, would be more along the lines of:
  1. Set realistic goals (aka know what you can do.)
  2. Word them vaguely when you need wiggle room.
  • That’s about it for now, as it’s time for walkies.
random waterfowl

Canada goose, eh.

Flipping the Switch

annabowling Leave a comment

Some days, the writing comes easy. Other days, it’s not. Then there are the days where getting to the writing place is a bigger challenge than making the story happen. This may be one of those days. It’s been one of those weekends. Possibly weeks. Hard to tell, sometimes. Things like this are going to happen to every writer, at one time or another. If it hasn’t happened yet, wait.

Real Life Romance Hero is back home, and we’re settling into the post-hospital, get-back-on-feet phase. Funny thing about that phase, it’s rarely the same twice, and yet it’s consistent. Caregiving is a different mindset from writing historical romance, though both are fueled by love.

On the caregiving front, there are medications to dispense, things to watch for, ways to help the loved one get back in their game. Some are physical, some are emotional. A lot of them take a lot of energy out of the caregiver, even when it’s given gladly. In most cases, things are more orderly in story world, the characters (usually) exactly where the writer has left them, and if they move, most times they will leave a forwarding address. Funny thing about the times when writing has to go on the back burner; sometimes, story problems work themselves out while the writer is tending to other things. Sometimes this has something to do with those other things, and sometimes, all the story needed was some time and space to do its own thing.

By now, I’ve found there is a pattern, at least for me, to switch between the two modes. No big surprise, it involves stationery.

My park boyfriend? (considering that he swam away, probably not :P)

My park boyfriend?
(considering that he swam away, probably not)

One of the best pieces of writing advice I ever received was from K.A. Mitchell:

  1. Change your seat.
  2. Open the file.

Okay, that’s two, but they go together. This morning, after not enough sleep and too much stress, the fact remained that it was still Monday, and nobody else is going to write my stories, blog entries, etc. So. This means writing must happen, even if brain wants to crawl under the covers and pretend it is eight years old. That’s where the sage advice comes into play. I filled my purple cup with ice and water, loaded my hobo bag with notebook, pen pouch and camera and headed for the park. No idea what I was going to do when I got there, but:

  1. Change your seat.
*not* the view from my recliner

*not* the view from my recliner

It’s been said that time + distance = perspective, and I do find that to be true. In this case, a walk around the lake (lack of mallard boyfriend notwithstanding) puts me in a different head space than the same four walls I see every day. I also noticed that I saw only the male ducks, which lets me know the gals may very well be tending their nests, which means bebeh duckage in the not too distant future. That alone is a mood booster, and the physical act of walking around the lake and peeping at blooming things does get the mind in a different frame.

boys, boys, boys

boys, boys, boys

Which is the right place to be for:

2. Open the file.

In this case, the notebook. I’ve learned that, for me, when I’m staring at a blinking cursor, or don’t know what file to open first, the answer lies in good old pen and paper. Big notebook is by Papaya Art, small notebook is Moleskine. There’s something special in touching the smooth paper (will probably do another post on the Papaya Art books later) and deciding which color gets to come out and play when I freewrite.

i1035 FW1.1

Part of the freewriting is making lists. What projects do I need to work on this week? Which ones are time-sensitive/have a deadline? Which do I feel most capable to take on in my present state? Which ones need some time and distance? What specific tasks do I need to complete to make progress on said projects?

Breaking it down that way is a lot more manageable than looking at the big looming wall of Things To Be Done. I’m intuitive, but like order, so sometimes, it’s asking myself which task feels like it wants to be done first. Things usually look like this:

  • make bullet point outline for scene X in Project A
  • blorch (aka babble on paper) for scene Y in Project B
  • visit sites C, D and E to research Project F
  • respond to latest email from Collaborator on Joint Project

Maybe research is what I can do at the moment, or maybe I want to dive into the wilds of a blorch, where it’s gloves off and anything goes, where getting it all down as fast and true and messy as possible is what’s needed. Putting things down in pen and ink can be like putting a cage around the Tasmanian Devil whirling at will through my brain space. Contained, he’ll tire himself out, settle down, and we can have some fun together. Thing by thing, what do I need to make each thing happen?

Not that different, after all, from caregiving. Maybe some of this is taking care of those voices who live in my head. Maybe not, but what I do know is that it’s a pretty reliable way to flip the switch that opens the door to story world, and I’m glad it’s there.

Writer friends, how do you flip your switches?

Typing With Wet Claws: Back to the People Vet Edition (With Notebook)

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Hello, all. Skye here, for a later than usual Feline Friday. Uncle had to go back to the people vet again today. Anty says he went into the carrier on his own, so I think the carrier people may have taken my suggestion about throwing in some food to entice him. Anty says the people vets are taking very good care of Uncle, and he will come home when he is better.

Anty spent all day at the people vet with Uncle, keeping him company and making sure that the people vets had all the right information so they could figure out why Uncle did not feel well. She says they figured it out after they poked him with some needles and put him in a machine that takes pictures of his insides. I do not think I want to see that kind of camera. It sounds scary.

While Anty waited with Uncle, she wrote some in her new notebook, which she moved into earlier this week. Anty likes to make her all purpose notebooks look special. That makes her want to use them more. The notebook she moved into was very plain when she got it. It is a Picadilly, the same as the one she filled a few days ago, only that one was black, and this one is red.

Plain notebook, pre-hacking

Plain notebook, pre-hacking

endpapers make an impact

endpapers make an impact

Anty covered the inside cover of the notebook (it was very plain) with scrapbook paper, cut down to fit and rounded the corners. She likes to keep a consistent color theme, Note the small accent of aqua in the lower corner there.

inside back cover, with pocket

inside back cover, with pocket

Back inside cover gets the same treatment. There is a pocket beneath the paper with the heart on it. Normally, Anty will put a decorative postcard on the pocket, but with this design, she doesn’t need to do that, as she likes the paper the way it is. If you are wondering what is inside the pocket, it is business cards, stamps and a notecard and envelope. She will probably add other things as time goes on, but that is enough for now.

contact information and ink test pages

contact information and ink test pages

Although there is nothing written on these pages in this picture, these pages have decorative paper on parts of them so that she has a dedicated space for important phone numbers and email addreses at the front of the book. That is one side of this spread. The other side is where she can test different kinds of ink she might like to use in this book. Normally, she uses that as the last page in the book, but this time, she decided to try something different. So far, it is working out well.

Anty did a lot of freewriting while waiting with Uncle. It is not fiction, but it still counts. Sometimes, she will put notes for stories she is working on in this sort of book, if she does not have the dedicated book for said story with her, and transcribe it later, either into the proper book or a computer file. I do not think she will be transcribing what she wrote today. but she does have the day’s to do list that can carry over to another day. There are a lot of writing things on that list.

For now, she is going to get some rest and check in on Uncle in the morning. I had better keep her company while she gets that rest.

Until next week...

Until next week…

Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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