miscellaneous

Does That Mean There Is Quietermilk?

annabowling 2 Comments

Days become weeks
Weeks become months
Months become way back when

      -Kait Kerrigan and Brian Lowdermilk, “Holding On”

During the weekend, I had an idea for this blog entry. Do not ask me what that idea was, because I do not know anymore. I am not even going to try and take a wild guess. Not even a stab in its general direction. That ship has sailed, so what you get instead is blabber, because “blog entry” is the next thing on my to-do list, and sleep was not that great this weekend, which means my mind is a muddle. Which means it is time to impose some order on chaos. Which means making lists and prioritizing.

Today’s quote is from the musical, Tales From the Bad Years. No, I’ve never seen it, but I have been listening to many of the songs from it repeatedly over the last couple of weeks. I haven’t played any Christmas music yet, which is unusual for me. I mean nothing. Seriously. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada. I’m not not-in the Christmas spirit, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe that’s because the decorations are still not up. Fingers crossed for tomorrow. Maybe then it will feel real. We’ve had sickies in our house for the last…three weeks? Four? Maybe that has something to do with it. I have Christmas books at hand, and have not cracked the covers on any of them, either.

No, wait, that’s not right. I am reading For Christmas, Forever, by Barbara Samuel, originally published under her Ruth Wind pseudonym, on my phone. I don’t read a lot of category romance, but I would read Barbara Samuel’s grocery list in a heartbeat. Pounce on that sucker like a starving hyena, I would, and that might be underselling my theoretical behavior. We need to make that clear at the outset. Still, I don’t read a lot of category, and the combination of intrigue and Christmas has me in uncharted territory, but the voice is still there, and that’s what I wanted (besides the whole Christmas angle) so that balances things out. Combine that with my devouring of Matthew Quick novels (be forewarned, I may get whiny when I finish the ones I have on hand, because then I will have read all currently published ones; why do I keep doing this to myself, again?) and rationing Dark Champion, the second of Jo Beverley’s medieval historical romances (I do sorely wish she had written more medieval, but there are loads of her Regencies and some of her Georgians I have not yet read. She is, sadly, another one who has left us, so when I am done, I will be done. At least with reading new to me titles for the first time.)

But back to the music. I wish I could say how it was I stumbled across the Kerrigan-Lowdermilk team, but I am going to say it was either Spotify or YouTube. I like to follow bunny trails, of things I might like, based on things I already like, and I’ve been using both of the above frequently as of late, so it’s probably one of the two. When an authorial voice catches my attention like that, I like to hunt down as much of it as I can. When that voice belongs to a songwriting team, and said songs are in the realm of musical theater, that makes my blood do a skippity skip, because that means that there are, somewhere out there, a plethora of different interpretations of the same songs, by different performers.

I love that kind of thing. I can find Actor A’s performance of Song X, take that in, find what I like about it and what I would direct them to do differently, then take in different takes on the material by Actor B, Actor C, Actor D, etc. Gender flipped, with or without changes in pronouns, solos divided into duets or multiple singers, and vice versa. Stage performances, cabaret, concert, professional, student, etc, etc. Bring all of that stuff right on over here, because it goes straight into ye olde creative well.

On the official page for Tales From The Bad Years, (find it here: http://kerrigan-lowdermilk.com/shows/tales-from-the-bad-years) the blurb about the show concludes with “There’s no doubt that the bad years make the best stories.” That resonated with me, and reminds me that it was the very title, Tales From The Bad Years, that told me this was something I had to investigate. I’m glad I did. Though I haven’t seen the show, or read the script, I’ve listened to the available songs, so, if I had to shelve it in a genre, I would put it in New Adult. Again, not a genre, in the contemporary fiction sense, with which I have any degree of familiarity, apart from the Going The Distance series by Lark O’Neal (http://www.larkoneal.com/) -who is also Barbara Samuel, go figure- but I very clearly got the “Yes. That.” reaction, so I’m listening. A lot. Rolling it around in my head, and letting it seep into my heart. We’ll see what sticks, what combines with all the other things that are in there already, and what else is going into the tank at the same time.

Writers are, by nature, omnivores. If it waves a tentacle at us, and if we grab onto that tentacle, it’s going into us. Becoming part of us. Coming out again in some other form that is our version of that. Calling us to come to a higher level. Making us want to be that good. Work that hard. Make something that has the same effect on somebody else, we would hope. We don’t always know what it’s going to do to us when we recognize it, but that moment when we know that yes, that new thing we like, it’s ours now, that’s something we need to hold onto and see where it takes us

The lines at the top of this entry are one of those things that stick. The inevitable passage of time, the reminder that my track record for getting through stuff has been 100% so far, so odds are that’s probably going to continue. Not smooth sailing all the way, because how boring would a story like that be, seriously? The knowledge that a current stressor will one day be a story to tell, of something that happened “way back when,” that’s encouraging. I can work with that.

 

 

One Way or Another

annabowling Leave a comment

This morning, I finished filling my fifth morning pages book, so I think it’s safe to say that I’ve found something that works to keep me writing every day. Even on days when morning pages are the only thing I write (and there are some of those, especially when in the grips of the Cold That Will Not Die) I have written two pages, first thing in the morning, and my mother was right – the more I do, the more I want to do.

Yesterday, Real Life Romance Hero asked me what I was planning to do for the day. My first answer was “figure out how far behind I am, and make a plan on how to get current.” My second answer was “That or watch Netflix from a blanket fort.” RLRH said something along the lines of “you can’t write anything if you’re dead,” which I took as a vote for the blanket fort. In the end, I split the difference. No Netflix was watched, alas, but I did have a nap, and I did write. I also found out that the options for getting Internet connection on my office computer are:

 

  1. Move the modem.
  2. Move the computer.
  3. Get a wifi signal booster.

 

The first two options crossed themselves off the list in an astoundingly short amount of time:

  1. This house was built around 1890, when the Internet was not anybody’s top concern, because the Internet did not exist. Therefore, there are a limited amount of outlets, which means the next available outlet to which we could move the modem was :drumroll please: about five feet in an office-ward direction, but also took it out of the living room, where all the rest of the devices get the majority of their use, and it made absolutely no difference in the signal in my office, which is to say none.
  2. Moving the computer would defeat the purpose of having the computer in my office, which is where I want to be doing the majority of my work. I prefer using my desktop for big chunks of work, in my comfy office chair, behind my closed door, because family knows that closed door = working. Also, my poor, beleaguered eyeballs are much happier with the big monitor, and, with the closed door, I am far less likely to fall prey to distractions. The only places I could move the whole setup to, if I had to move it, under protest, would be A) the dining room, and B) the living room. Dining room could be possible if absolutely needed, but there is the matter of prewar ceilings and burned out overhead lighting. Also, the dining room is tiny and has only one outlet. Living room would put me in the same middle-of-everything spot I am with the laptop, so no.

Clearly, the wifi booster is the obvious winner here. Part of me is curmudgeon enough to want a plan B, in case my office truly is a dead zone and even the booster doesn’t do the trick. As a once-upon-a-time friend once said, I would need a tech manual to operate a butter churn. I am not the most technologically minded person on this (or probably any other) planet. I am also reminded of a writer’s workshop I once attended, where the presenter asked everyone in the room who considered themselves an optimist to raise their hand. I was literally the only person who did not do so. So, the presenter asked, would I identify as a pessimist? I took a third option: realist. A thing might work, or a thing might not. Both outcomes are possible. If I plan for both outcomes, then I’m prepared for either. In this case, the booster will pinch the pocket a bit, but I will be able to do everything I want behind my office door (Virginia Woolf really was on to something with her whole room of one’s own thing) or it will be a noble experiment, and I will find some way of moving the entire setup into the dining room when I want Internet.

The realist in me does not mind either outcome. I’d prefer the former, but if it’s the latter, then so be it. Whatever gets things done, gets things done. Those who have been reading this blog for a while know I’m ansty. Getting back on the horse can be one hell of a ride in and of itself, but, when one is finally back in the saddle (mine happens to be a very lovely office chair) one wants to actually have something to show for it. In my case, books.

I’ve called my office my Hobbit Hole in the past, and that still pretty much rings true. Get inside, shut the door, music on, notebook or computer file (or both) open, and watch me go. it took long enough to get to this place that I want to stick my flag in it and go full steam ahead. If that means moving machinery around, then that’s what I’m going to do. I’d prefer not to have to do it, but if that’s what it takes, well, okay, then. Hero and Heroine, and Guy and Girl want to meet all of you, and the only way that can happen is if I write (or co-write) their whole stories.

One of my favorite memories of my From Fan Fiction to Fantastic Fiction (now called Play In Your Own Sandbox, Keep All the Toys) was when one student shared her experience of co-writing her long form fic with a friend who lived 200 miles away. Every Friday night, she would dismantle her big early 80s desktop computer (this was long, long ago, obviously,) pack it in her car, drive 200 miles to her friend’s house, where she would unpack it, set it up there, and she and her friend would spend the entire weekend writing. Then reverse the process, go back home and do the responsible adult thing from Monday through Friday night, and do it again the next weekend.

I don’t know what happened to that student, though I hope she’s still writing. What I do know is that if she can do that, I can do this. The walk from my office to the dining room is not as far as the journey from sobbing my guts out because writing wouldn’t come. Tomorrow, i start my sixth morning pages book, interestingly enough another copy of the same book that inspired me to start writing morning pages in the first place. Kind of feels like leveling up, in a way, with both of these things happening at the same time. This spring, I will be co-presenting a workshop on blogging. I am writing one book I love, and co-writing another. I have a nice queue of posts for Heroes and Heartbreakers that I can’t wait to share, and we are in the Christmas season, which is my favorite-favorite time of the year. All pretty decent, all things considered.

 

 

 

I am a Weeble

annabowling 2 Comments

First things first: I do not have high hopes for this blog entry. My cold has officially entered week two. I am currently wrestling with in-store pickup for a purchased item that told me I would have it by the 23rd. It is now the 28th. I very strongly want to show up on the item’s one-weeki-versary with a cupcake and balloons, perhaps party hats, and insist on taking a selfie with the worker who “guaranteed” it would be available on Saturday. Item is in store, but being “processed.” Um, long process, dudes. There will be feedback on this one, oh yes there will.

Today, I have made myself get dressed, put on makeup and head to my favorite coffee house, because the need to do normal things is overwhelming. Note that I did not list “do my hair” in the preparations to leave the house, because I have honestly forgotten what  one does with face framing layers, and it’s only one day post wash. Yep. Been in the house too long. I forgot to ask the barista for my customary splash of skim milk, which means my tea now has a splash of the community half and half. Cookie is less because I am getting down to Serious Novel Writing, and more because I have not had lunch and did not want to cook. One look at refrigerator full of delicious Thansgiving leftovers, and nothing but nope. I am dealing with my laptop’s touchpad, because I was too tired to pack the mouse, and wrangling with the mouse cord is not worth the aggravation.

Yesterday, I inhaled Every Exquisite Thing, by Matthew Quick (Skye will provide the link to my rambling review on Friday) and am now emotionally eviscerated. Also mourning a fictional character, and would compare the events of that character needing to be mourned with events of a similar nature in another book whose title and author escape me, but I think I can take a reasonably good stab at the author. At any rate, there’s a similarity in the circumstances, and I’d like to see if I could work that into a historical romance at some point in the future. EET was YA fiction, and the other book, hmmm, I’m going to say horror. Maybe. With YA elements.

This all makes me want to spend more time on historical romance, and I have high hopes for my next few historical romance reads, as well as a clearer focus on returning to the next scene in Her Last First Kiss, so that’s all good.  I also owe half a scene from the Beach Ball, which I hope to get done in the next couple of days, because a) my collaborator, Melva, deserves a reward for her legendary patience, and b) I want this story to progress, because there is more yet to come.

Earlier this week, I’d braved the elements (and Black Friday crowds) because certain things had to be done, even if what I wanted to do was watch Netflix from my blanket fort. As part of that outing, I had lunch at a favorite establishment with Housemate, and talk turned to work. Specifically mine. I asked her how she’d describe my author brand to someone who had never read me before. Since this is a fairly large people group, this question is extremely relevant to my interests. Her answer involved the phrase, “getting back on the horse” and moving forward (even with setbacks) in the face of adversity, in fiction as well as nonfiction.

“So, basically,” I said to her, when she was done, “I’m a Weeble?”

The gist of her response can be whittled down to, “Pretty  much.”

Okay. I can live with that. Seriously, what’s the alternative? Not getting back up after life knocks one down? Not going on, even if it means dancing on phantom limbs or heading off in a slightly or completely different direction? Yeah, no. Not going to do that. That’s not in me. I tried. It didn’t work. It’s not in my characters, either; not in my heroes and heroines, no matter when or where they lived. Apple trees can only grow apples. I want to grow as many apples as I possibly can, and make them into a whole smorgasbord of dishes.

So that’s where I am on this fine Monday morning, now firmly in the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Decorations at Stately Bowling Manor would have been going up directly after Thanksgiving dinner, but sick me, so tomorrow is the next projected date. As much as it’s irritating to have to wait for things like that, they payoff is worth it. That moment when Real Life Romance Hero and I tell Housemate to turn off all the lights, and we get that first glimpse of the living room lit by nothing but Christmas lights, that’s where the magic is. Every year, we call it the best tree ever, and, every year, it is.

That’s what I’m shooting for when I type (or co-type) the end on HLFK and the Beach Ball. Best books ever. Well, mine (and semi-mine) at least. That’s all any of us writer types can aim for, with each new endeavor. Make this the best one. Fall down? Yep, going to happen. If it hasn’t, then it only hasn’t happened yet. Fall down? Get up. Get back on the horse. Keep going. I guess it’s my inherent Weeble-ness that keeps things going at times, and I am okay with that.

 

 

 

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Special Pre-Thanksgiving Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here. for a special, pre-Thanksgiving edition of Typing With Wet Claws. As you may have guessed, since it is me blogging today, and not my Anty, Anty’s cold is still sticking around. She is pretty sure she will feel better soon, though, which is a good thing. One of the duties of a mews is to take care of things like this when my human is down, so I am writing Anty’s blog for today. She thought about writing her own blog, but nobody wants to read the word, “phlegm,” as many times as she would have had to use it.

Because this is a special edition, I do not  have to talk about Anty’s writing first (there would not have been a lot to talk about anyway, because that would require her to access the storytelling part of her brain, and she has not yet found the deciding what to watch on Netflix part, which is usually pretty easy to find.) There will be more writing when she feels better, but for now, she does like to give staring at a screen or page a couple of times a day. Sometimes, there are words there by the time she stops staring. I think they are even English words, so that is a good sign.

Anty has been doing more reading than usual, which may be the one plus of this whole cold. Okay, that and the fact that Anty’s cold came at exactly the same time as Mama’s vacation. Do not worry, Mama had not planned on going anywhere (apart from helping Uncle get to work on days when it is cold or rainy or snowy) so this is not disrupting any plans, and Anty gets a built in nursing staff. That is pretty cool. Also, Uncle planned on doing all of the cooking himself anyway. That is always a good thing, especially because Uncle used to cook professionally. That means for monies. He is not charging Anty or Mama anything for making Thanskgiving dinner, though. They know where he sleeps. Also, he bought all the food. I will still have cat food, because I am still a cat.

Back to Anty’s reading. She is pretty much at the acceptance phase now, of having read all existing historical romances by the author who got her into historical romance in the first place. There are a lot of other books, in historical romance and other genres, so she is not out of books. Because Anty is a writer herself, she can also write her own, which is a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. That will probably happen much faster after this cold is gone.

Mama is betting the cold will be mostly gone by Monday. Anty wants it gone now, but she will take it being gone by Friday.  That is because Friday is Black Friday, and Anty loves Black Friday. Anty is a morning person and an extrovert, so getting up early, with the specific reason of going places where there will be a lot of people is actually a good thing for her. There was one year, before I was born, when Olivia was the kitty in this family, when Anty got up early-early-early and walked to the mall (she could, because it was on the same street: this was in the Old Country) so she could be there when it opened.

She had a list with her (those of you who have been with us a while know how much Anty loves lists) and went by herself. She did not mind the long, long line to get into a particular store that we will call Bullseye. There were some very special deals at Bullseye that year, and Anty was determined to get all the shopping done in one go. It was a long wait, but she had he mp3 player, so she could listen to music that corresponded to the story she was writing at the time. Once she got into Bullseye, she followed her list and the store map, and got everything in her cart relatively quickly. Then she parked her cart in the book aisle (astoundingly, nobody was going there; she was not making that up) and phoned Mama to come get her. Mama did, because Anty had also picked out gifts Mama needed to buy, so Mama would not need to do it herself. One big haul, and it was all done.

That is probably not going to happen this year. For one thing, Anty would need to take a bus to the mall, because it is too far to walk, and also the whole cold thing. Anty even let Mama do her own laundry (Anty usually does all the laundry for the whole family. It is kind of her thing.) on Monday. That should tell you something. It is okay, though, because she has a fully loaded Kindle, a packed TBR shelf, and there is that whole Netflix thing. Plus naps. I am a very big proponent of naps. All that good-smelling food Uncle will make will probably help her, as well.

Things are starting to look up, though. Yesterday, Anty washed her hair, and today, she put polish on her hind claws…excuse me, they are called toenails on humans. Those things help her feel less gross and more human. I think that is a sign of life.

That is about it for now. I look forward to joining all of you again on our regularly scheduled Feline Friday. Did you know that, if Anty gets one more follower, she will have five hundred? Five hundred is a nice, round number, and it may inspire Anty to post something special, to celebrate. It is the season, after all.

Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebye

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

Typing With Wet Claws: Urrrrgh Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This Feline Friday is a little bit different, because it is one of those days. Anty did not get a lot of sleep last night, so she is extra grumpy today, which is not helping the fact that this is an urrrrghy day overall. Not that she is wearing overalls. Those are not her kind of thing. They are not my kind of thing, either, because I am a kitty and am covered in fur, so I do not need clothing/ I am very, very fluffy. But this part of the post is not about me.

Normally, this is the place where I would put Anty’s latest post at Buried Under Romance, but I cannot do that this week, because the site was hacked. That is not a happy thing. I guess somebody really does not like romance novels. I do not understand why. They make Anty, and many other writers and readers, very happy. Miss Ezrah, who is the webmistress at Buried Under Romance, is working very very hard to make sure the hackers are defeated and Anty, and all the other people on that site, can post again as soon as possible. In the meantime, here is the page where you can read all of Anty’s Saturday Discussion posts so far: http://www.buriedunderromance.com/author/annab and the top of the page should look like this:

burfail

 

Please note that the picture on this screenshot is of Grumpy Cat. I did not plan it that way, although I am always happy to further the career of other cats in social media, but that is not the big thing I am here to talk about today. The big new is that it is now official, that Anty will be co-presenting the Blogging Isn’t Dead workshop, along with Corrina Lawson and Rhonda Lane, at this year’s Let Your Imagination Take Flight conference. That will be April 7th and 8th, in Burlington, MA. If you are there, Anty would love to say hello. Miss Corrina and Miss Rhonda are very nice, too, and Anty is happy to be working with them. The official roster of programs and presenters looks like this:

necrwaflyer

If you would like more information, such as how to register, so that you can go to the conference, and hear Anty, Miss Corrina, and Miss Rhonda talk about blogging in person, then you can find that information here: http://necrwa.org/blog1/conference/

Even though I write pretty much one third of Anty’s blog posts (at least at this site) for her, I will not be attending the conference, because I am a kitty, and kitties like to stay at home. I would like it if Anty stayed at home, too, so that she could feed me, but I have Uncle for that. He gives me big dinners, so that is not a hardship. I am sure Anty will give me the chance to impart some of my wisdom. At these conferences, people have come up to her and told her they like my blog. Those people have very good taste. Maybe Anty will hunt down a new paw print rubber stamp (we had one in the old country, but it got lost in the move) so that I can give autographs. My actual paws are staying at home, because they are part of me, so any such autographs would be symbolic. Maybe Anty could draw a paw print. She has been known to do that on greeting cards.

Anyway, that is the good writing news for this week. Other than that, this has been an urrrghy week. Anty is glad that she did not try to do NaNo this year, as she would be a nervous wreck by now (which is to say, more than usual) because word counts and domestic tornadoes do not generally mix well. Anty is not worried. There is a calm after every storm, and if there is one thing she has learned from al the urrrghy experiences, it is that the writing will be there. With all the notebooks Anty has going, I do not doubt that at all. Sometimes, the writing takes a little longer, and that is okay, as long as it still gets done, and Anty will make sure that it does.

This has been a day that helps Anty see how important conflict is in writing. She wanted to be well rested for all she had to do today, but she did not get a lot of sleep. Okay, Laundromat time is good for resting (but not sleep) and reading and quiet time, but even though Anty was early, it was not quiet or peaceful. Okay, she would nap when she got home. Well, that was the plan, but we also have a sleep-deprived Uncle at home, and Uncle likes to walk around a lot when he is at home. Since we have old floors, this is noisy. Anty went off to get Uncle’s pills from the pharmacy, but there was a complication there. She fixed that, then wanted to get a calm lunch at Panera, where she could write, but she forgot one important thing It is across the street from a major hospital, and it was lunch hour. Anty had to wait a long time for a table, and then it did not have an outlet for her computer. Also, the Diet Pepsi dispenser was empty and she had to settle for caffeine free. Anty could use some caffeine. Really, a lot of it. She would have ordered tea, but the sign on the hot water dispenser said it was filled at 6AM. Not helpful after noon.

All of these things are annoying, but if everything went according to plan, it would not be an interesting story of how Anty found some space to write, after all. She even has plans to Skype (still miffed that has nothing to do with Skye pee) with Miss Vicki, before diving into the afternoon errands. That all sounds very tiring, but Anty will get through it, because it is best for everyone involved if Anty makes sure she gets at least some writing time even with all the aggravation. Non-writing Anty is super cranky Anty, and nobody wants that.

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)

 

 

Organizing the Wilderness

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No, I do not mean my desk. Yes, I do know exactly where everything is on it. Yes, there are ways to more efficiently use the space (moving the index card box is one of them; that isn’t where it lives) and I am working on that. Having the big, wide, lovely monitor directy in front of my beloved cubbyholes is not my first choice, but since that is where I can put the old desktop (for now; we will see what happens when the new desktop joins the family) and it’s a small office, one works with what one has.

When left to my own devices, without any accountability, chance to talk things over, or socialization with others of my kind, I will run wild, vacillating between frustration over not getting anything done, and blithely following bunny trails of interest, which result in not getting anything done, which results in frustration, which results in a self-perpetuating cycle, which has got to stop. Clean sweep. Done with the chaos (well, chaos inside the books is good for the story, but that’s another post.) and time to start adding some more layers.

What works best for me when things have gone wild is structure. Set limits. Make goals. I highly recommend some form of morning pages. For me, it’s a two page spread in a dedicated notebook that is not for anything else, ever. Nobody else gets to see the pages once they have been written. These are only for me. Sometimes, they’re about the weird dream I had, a rambling discussion with myself on the pros and cons of getting bangs, ruminating over a conversation I had the day before, reacting to a big twist on a favorite TV show, or blabbering about one of the works in progress. Writing two pages of “ugh, I don’t know what to write here” is perfectly okay, too. The content does not matter. What matters is that I get my brain into writing mode, because once it’s there, it wants to stay, and that is kind of the whole point of the thing.

Once morning pages are done, I’m right there at my desk, so I may as well take care of other writing related tasks while I’m there. Can’t beat the commute of already in the danged chair, right? Each project has its own notebook that is for that, and  nothing else, and I also keep a couple of all purpose books in different locations. If my brain is jumbled, then it is time to write down that jumble and see if I can make sense of it, either during the process, or later. This carries over into writing on fiction projects. If I can’t write the scene I had planned on, I can write about the scene. What would I like to have happen? What is my best guess as to why it is not happening? What do I need? Am I hungry, angry, lonely or tired? If so, fix that, and then come back and try it again. Do I not know enough about the scene? What do I  need to know? Figure that out, and come back. It’s not that I can’t, and obviously need to give up this pipe dream of writing commercial fiction and go back to retail, but that it’s the same as a plumber opening her toolbox to fix a pipe, realizing she doesn’t have her wrench, and then going to get the danged wrench.

With two novel projects going on at the same time, posts for Heroes and Heartbreakers and Buried Under Romance, as well as my own blog, and co-presenting a conference workshop coming up, it’s easy to get overwhelmed. Good thing there is an easy fix. Write. That. Stuff. Down. If I can see what I have to do, then I can get a better idea of what has to be done, when, and in what priority. I love to organize, and I’m best at it when I can touch paper. So, if I haven’t covered the day’s tasks in my morning pages, time to get some paper -still figuring out what kind of notebook is best for me for this particular endeavor- and make a list. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are blog days. Tuesday is breakfast with N. If I have a TV show to recap that night, that goes on the list as well.

November is my month for figuring out how I plunge ahead into the thick of things, so I can’t say as yet how I’m measuring  overall fiction progress, but I do know that head down, eyes on my own paper seems to get me through. Work on this scene, this outline, don’t worry about anything else. Concentrate on one thing at one time, set limits, take a break, on to the next thing. Sure, things look overwhelming when they are all one big, fuzzy mess. I once saw a graphic on Facebook that mentioned the writer not having ducks, and them not being in a row. The writer had squirrels, and they were at a rave. That hit home. Yes. I have squirrels. Fortunately, those squirrels can be lured into individual go-go cages. At least that’s the plan. Onward we go.

Typing With Wet Claws: Seasonal Change Edition

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Hello all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is cool today, but not as cold as yesterday. We had snow yesterday. Anty loves snow. It is her all time favorite weather. Rain is her second favorite, and she would like a few more rainy fall days before snowy winter days kick in. She likes those, too, and her super powers do extend into the winter, but even she thinks it is a little early for winter to begin. I, of course, am a Maine Coon, and therefore was born ready for winter. I am getting super fuzzy, because I am going to need the extra warmth when winter really begins.

Before the part of this blog where I get to talk about whatever I want begins, we have to have the part where I talk about what Anty is writing this week. That is the deal, and one of my duties as a mews. This week, Anty’s post at Buried Under Romance is about the blurred lines between historical and contemporary timelines in books. Sometimes, there are both in the same story, whether time travel or time slip. Those two, by the way, are not the same thing. I thought that was very interesting. That post looks like this:

bur28oct10

and you can read about it here:  http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/10/saturday-discussion-blurred-time-lines.html#comment-9149

This week was a little bit different from other weeks, because it was the week of Anty’s birthday, and you all know how much she loves birthdays, including, and especially, but not limited to her own. She probably did not want to brag, but I did give her the very first present of the day, so she could start it off right. I even made it myself, but I was not quiet about it. Then again, it is very difficult to cough up a hairball quietly. Anty cleaned that , and gave me my breakfast, after a little while. She wanted my tummy to settle first. This was only a normal sized hairball, not the big awful kind that means she has to smear medicine on my mouth. I have learned my lesson on that one.

Anty had a special celebration with Uncle on Saturday, and went out with Mama on the actual day, which was Monday. Mama and Anty first became friends because they loved some of the same books, so Mama took Anty to two libraries, so Anty could binge and get all the books she wanted. That is a very good present for a book lover. Here is what Anty got, in the picture below. Anty had been saving the experience of reading the very last Bertrice Small historical romance she had not yet read, for a special occasion, and this was it. She is a little sad that this is the last new-to-her book (it came out a while ago, but she did not read it then) but there are still all her old favorites, and other books by other writers. If that is not enough, she creates her own. I think that is a big super power.

bookseses.jpg

Since this birthday had a zero at the end of it (I have never had a birthday with a zero at the end of it, because I have not yet hit the big 1-0.) this one had Anty extra-thinky. Some things that she thought would have happened by now, have not happened yet, but that does not mean that they will not, ever. Other things already have happened, and, some, she would like to have happen again. This is called introspection. It is also called planning. If you have known Anty for any length of time, then you will know that she loves to plan. She has her planner already for this year, and has had it for some time. It is an eighteen month planner, which means she can start planning earlier than having to start out of the gate on January first. She likes that. She would like it if wall calendars would do the same thing, but she has not found one of those yet. Maybe she needs to do more looking.

She definitely needs to do more writing. It is exciting for Anty to be working on two projects at once, and, now that she  has her nifty new ergonomic lap desk, it is much more comfortable to do that. The box says her new desk is a smart desk. I think it is right, because it knew exactly what Anty needed in a lap desk.

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Anty agrees that it is not the tools that make the writer, but the right tools do make the writing easier, and, in this case, more comfortable. Anty can also take this desk into her office, so she can sit in her super comfy office chair, with the keyboard in her lap, and watch the story spill out onto the big monitor. It does not hurt that the office is filled with things that Anty loves, and it is super toasty warm. My only objection is that the office has that strange carpet that I do not like, so I have to do all of my mews-ing from the linoleum on the kitchen floor outside Anty’s office door. This will be a challenging season.

What is good about that, though, is that writing makes Anty happy. Spending time with her imaginary friends is a pleasure now, not a chore. She knows, now, that she needs to close the office door, or leave the house, to make sure she can concentrate on her stories, and not be distracted by other things. Distractions are bad things for writer type humans. Staying in the story is what matters. Last night, Anty did not want to stop staying in the story, even though it was bedtime, and so she did not. I stuck right by her until she did stop, at midnight, and she rewarded me by giving me some food. I could get used to this.

That is about it for this week. Anty has more writing to do, and some errands to run, so she is going to need the computer back now. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

 

i1035 FW1.1

Until next week…

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

 

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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

Typing With Wet Claws: Picking Up The Pace Edition

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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:

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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:

 

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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)