miscellaneous

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

annabowling Leave a comment

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.

lapdesk241016

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.

20161021_090720

Photobombed by my Uncle. Best day ever.

 

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

skyebye

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

Only a Little Burned

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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.

cinnamonbread191016

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

 

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

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

acertainage

Guh. This book.

 

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

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:

bur

What counts as an unusual setting, anyway?

 

 

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

 

shamy

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

PaPaYa! Art spiral notebook
Stathmore Visual Journal Watercolor

 

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

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

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

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

skyebye

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

Antsy

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

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

duckz

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

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

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

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

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

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

Typing With Wet Claws: Mythical Vuvuzela Edition

annabowling 1 Comment

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

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

bur300916

Is there such a thing as too many books?

 

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

handhbestseptember

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

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

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

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

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

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

i1035 FW1.1

Until next week…

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

Bound By The Work We Started

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My new office chair is in place. Smoke detectors are done chirping and back to protecting our safety. Blog entry is next on my list of Things To Do, before I dive, with love and uncertainty, back into the actual writing and related tasks (of which blogging is assuredly one) and title comes from the Sting song that was playing when I opened WordPress today. Not a pop song, but a selection from probably the only-ever hit Broadway show about shipbuilding, The Last Ship. Probably only Sting could ever write a hit Broadway show about downtrodden shipbuilders reclaiming their moxie, but he’s Sting, so he can.

Yesterday, I hit a huge pit of gaming withdrawal. I don’t remember the last time I was able to boot Sims 3, and the missing it hit me, hard. Okay, a friend squealing over how great Fallout 4 looked on her new PlayStation may have had something to do with that. I tried booting Sims 3 but ye olde lapptoppe wouldn’t hold an internet connection long enough to boot, so that was out of the question. Still, I had the hunger. My work for the day was done. I needed to calm down from a couple of stress triggers, and I knew gaming would do the trick…which would be super helpful if I could actually boot my game.

Which was when the other thing hit me. I still had Sims Medieval (TSM) installed, and (thank you, organization) the CD was right at hand. Popped that puppy in, and, after a couple of false starts, boom, game. I knocked off a quest for my blacksmith in pretty short order, took some screenshots, and impressed myself with how much fun it was to get back to it, after al this time. Sims and a  historical environment should be a natural for me, and it is. Sure, there are some drawbacks, because it isn’t like real Sims. I can’t build, for one thing, and I have to do quests, rather than making my Sims live their lives (preferably in a custom neighborhood that looks like Levittown and Centralia somehow collided) but it felt good to play with some form of pixel people, and I hadn’t played since Origin installed the update, so there should be some new-to-me stuff.

There’s also the fact that it’s been so long that part of the game does feel like I’m playing it for the first time again, but I have enough experience from those long-ago quests that I’m not starting at zero, even if it feels like it. Rupert, my blacksmith, pictured above (he’s the dude; chick is Queen Sascha, who sent him on his quest) is now at level nine of his career, so he’s got some cred and swagger. Also a nifty assistant who does a bunch of his work for him, which is a big perk.

What does this all have to do with writing, one might ask? It’s okay. Go ahead. I did. Half the time I write these blogs, I don’t know where I’m going when I start, but if I do keep going, I usually figure it out, because I’m me, so I can. Aha. Kind of like Sting in that respect. All right, that may be the only thing Sting and I have in common. I am pretty sure I am never going to write a hit Broadway musical about shipbuilding (or anything else, most likely. I also got thrown out of robed choir in high school, for having a bad voice -teacher’s words- in front of the entire class, but hey, I got to read romance novels while everybody else sang, so who really won that breakup?) Then again, Sting is probably never going to write a historical romance novel. (If he did, though, I’d probably read it.) Which is all okay, because there’s room for both in this crazy world we live in, and lots of people like both. It’s not an either/or kind of thing going on here. I appreciate that.

The more we exercise any muscle, the stronger it gets. When I booted TSM last night, it wasn’t real Sims. I hadn’t played in forever. There were going to be things I forgot, skills that got rusty, and I didn’t remember who all my characters were. I wanted to game, though, needed to game, and this was the game I could play, and so it was going to happen. Little splashing around in the shallows, but then I got into it and, by the time I shut down because I had to adult, quest completed, fun had, next quest already picked out. It felt a lot like writing, which is why I like the Sims franchise. It uses a lot of the same muscles; character creation, the development of relationship, goals, motivations and conflicts, and, in the end, telling a story. Telling a story is what I love most. Plop it in an old-timey setting, and I am home, baby.

Reaching the points I’m at for the current mss is scary, because I’ve leveled up. I beat the monster of the first levels, laid my foundations, and now I need to build and fortify. Decorate, because making things look right is part of the fun. Combat the bigger, stronger monsters that come with each new level, because my big goal is defeating the boss at the end. Or, in the case of writing a book, The End. All those voices that say “you can’t do it,” or, worse, “you can’t do it anymore,” those need to be drowned out by the clicking of keys, the scratch of pen against paper, a playlist with a respectable amount of Sting on it, and one foot in front of the other until the final draft is done.

Sweetest Workshop Hangover

annabowling 2 Comments

Happy Monday, all. It’s a lovely seventysomething here in New York’s Capitol Region, and I am in my comfy chair, laptop in my lap (lap desk needs replacing, as the cushion has deflated, the handle is hanging loose, and the coating on the surface of the desk is cracked and peeling; this desk has served me well) and actually have a topic. This all bodes well, so let’s see how it goes.

I spent my Saturday here:
http://cr-rwa.org/2016/09/before-you-hit-send-workshop-with-angela-james-is-this-saturday/

and can very highly recommend Angela James’s workshop, which, oddly enough, I am probably not going to talk about much here, even though that was kind of my entire point. I have masses of notes and some hefty handouts on self-editing, to go over and put into heavy use when I get to the self-editing stage. Right now, I am focused on writing and co-writing these two WIPs, and all the rest comes after I type/co-type The End. What I’m blabbering about instead, is the experience. Also the stuff, because I am all about pens and paper, and hey, they outright give them to you at these things, even if you bring your own.

I love conferences and workshops, because I love writing romance, and I love people, and being in a hotel or part of a hotel, filled with other people who also love writing romance, and are there for the same reason I am, to improve our craft and advance our careers, is about as good as it gets. This was probably the least prepared I have ever been for an actual RWA event, and, surprisingly, I was fine with that. Presenter was Angela James, who is pretty high up the ladder at Carina Press, so she presumably knows her stuff when it comes to editing (she does.) I knew I was riding in with N, conveyed by her lovely husband, Mr. N, and had plans to meet up with Sue Ann Porter, and several of my CRRWA chapter sisters and brothers (yep, we got dudes.) Potential to meet new friends, and did find the lovely surprise of meeting with one of my Last Call Girls, M, (don’t have permission to use her name yet, which, in retrospect,  I probably should have secured beforehand, but then again, maybe I can make being an initial on my blog can become some kind of thing. Yeah. We’ll go with that one. Some pictures of me hanging out with beautiful blondes. That’s Sue Ann Porter in the pink, and the lovely Miss M in the snazzy specs.

Sue Ann Porter, and me
Me and the delightful MIss M

 

Most important thing I learned about taking all day workshops came at the registration desk, when I realized there was only one place to put my name tag. Clip on name tags and V-necked shirts provide a unique challenge. I will remember this for next time and bring an actual jacket with me, for name tag purposes, and in case the venue’s air conditioning is set to Polar Bear. I appreciate that it was ninety-three degrees outside and so humid that I am fairly certain I saw air fish. We will not discuss the weather on Saturday night, but I am extremely thankful for the cooler weather that came after.

One of the best parts of any conference or workshop is getting a good group at one’s table at meals, and this was no exception. Me, Sue Ann, M, and N, one tiny table in this room:

diningroom

Snazzy, huh?

When we got back from stuffing ourselves with the bounty of a respectable sandwich bar and dessert buffet, we found a nice surprise waiting at our seats.

After lunch surprise
Notepad front
Notepad back

 

Carina Press brochure, some fun reading-themed stickers, Carina Press pen, and vintage Harlequin cover themed notepads. Do they know me or what? There were different titles for the notepads, but The Widow Gay seemed to be the hot property of the day. I am highly in favor of book covers on notebooks. Heck, I am highly in favor of notebooks, period. The notebook I brought, and filled nineteen of its pages, I’ve had for a while. The pages are horizontally striped, one line blue, the next white, so a lot easier for my eyes to focus on and find where I am when I look away and then back. I used the same gel pens I keep on  hand for my commonplace notebook, and found that rotating through the colors, one per subject, should make finding pertinent sections easier when I go back to study them.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, all well and good, and you’ve  hit your precious magic seven hundreds, Miss Talky Talk Writer Person, but what did you learn? Well, several things. Writer things. A good, comprehensive review of the basics of self editing, which I will definitely put into play once these two books are done, because I’m looking forward to that phase. For right now, what’s most important is to get from Once Upon a Time, to Happily Ever After. What I got from this workshop the most is that I am on the right track. If I’m not all the way back on the horse (how on earth do we measure that, anyway?) I’ve got at least one foot in the stirrup. I’ll take that, and gladly.