Typing With Stuffed Paws: Anything That Doesn’t Look Like An Umbrella Edition

March 15, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

Greetings, foolish mortals. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling coming at you, with some of the stuff of the week that was, with special guest, Writer Chick. Why is Writer Chick here on Friday? Easy. She went to what Skye’s notes refer to as the people vet, and there was apparently medicine involved and she forgot what day was what day, and here we are. Anyway, what that means is that she did most of my work for me, so I will drop her link to last week’s Buried Under Romance here, and hand it on over.

Writer Chick also read this book, and will be reading these:

I will pause (or paws) here for some fur-sonal maintenance, while Writer Chick has her say. Here’s the picture she had as her header:

Interior, coffee shop, day.

Two women, A and N, sit in a booth, with hot beverages and various art materials. Both hold pencils in hand, blank pages in front of them. A traces around the base of a plastic to-go lid, then sections the circle into pie-like sections.

N: (peers at A’s page) Is that your umbrella?

A: Hopefully.

N: Do you know how to draw an umbrella?

A: (deadpan) Yes. Erase everything that doesn’t look like an umbrella. :flips the lid, to add small arches to the inner edges of the circle, then erases parts of outer circle that do not look like an umbrella:

Annnd scene. :curtsies:

This scene, as you may have guessed, comes, as the best dramas do, from real life. Real life, in this case, meaning my real life, and my weekly breakfast with N. This week, it was an artist’s date (artists’ date, as there were two of us?) N brought the wrong paper, so ended up doing her sketch on regular notebook paper (spoiler: it looked fabulous anyway, and I want real versions of the dresses she sketched, please and thank you.

I, as promised, brought my new water=soluble crayons and watercolor paper, along with a pack of baby wipes (for the smushing around of colors) and mechanical pencil (for the drawing of things,) metal ruler (for the drawing of straight things) and fancy eraser (for erasing of drawn things that are in the wrong place.) The umbrella thing was a passing mention. IT’s for the cover image of my April monthly planner section, so, really, all I needed to do was sketch, and N wanted to see how the water-soluble crayons worked, and the background kind of happened on its own. The black blob in the corner was supposed to be another umbrella, but that didn’t work out so well, so now it’s…a shadow? Ominous cloud? Artistic license? Yeah, I’ll go with that.

We both drew, as we talked about writing, and both put some color on the pages. N had woodless colored pencils. These are new to me, and I am guessing they are colored pencil guts without the usual casing. I paid attention to the way she held the pencils (she is an artist of some years’ standing) and how she lay down the color, while I scribbled and glopped crayon onto my paper, then attacked it with baby wipes, turning aimless scribbles into soft washes that built on each other. We talked about stories we’d both like to write, vague terms for me, more specific ones for her, and the domestic tornadoes whirring through both our families, thankfully at lower levels.

When Mr. N came to retrieve us, he asked, as he always does, if we had a good meeting. N, as she always does, said that we did. She waxed (pun intended) rhapsodic about the crayons, and the store at which they might be purchased. Mr. N is, himself, an artist, so this is relevant to his interests as well. In time, they dropped me home. I touched base with Real Life Romance Hero, then dug out marker paper, to try the same design on another surface. Yep. Still works.

N did suggest that I could tilt the umbrella, to show it from an angle instead of straight on, and I may try that, later, but, for today, I am content to say that yes, I do know how to draw an umbrella. At least this umbrella, and that’s all I really need to know. Okay, except for the size of the monthly divider, but I can tackle that one another day.

TL:DR: Yes, I can draw an umbrella. Yes, this applies to writing. Yes, I am being purposely vague because I have to be out the door in five minutes. I have a picture of an umbrella, though, even with color, and a mood, from a certain perspective, and I am confident that I can draw it again. I can also write books. This is very useful, because I am a writer. Tell the story and don’t worry about all the fiddly other stuff.

Yeah, so that’s about it. I will direct Writer Chick back to one of her multiple calendars, and, hopefully, things will be back on track next week.

Peace Out,

Typing With Stuffed Paws: Pre-Galley Slave Edition

March 1, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

Greetings, Foolish Mortals. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling, coming at you with all the stuff for the week that was. Writer Chick can’t believe it’s the first of March already, but with all the planners she has, this should not be a big surprise, but here we are. This also means that Writer Chick’s next post is about the state of at least one of those planners. I would say the whole planner obsession keeps her out of trouble, but we both know that isn’t true.

Writer Chick insists that I put the big news up front. Writer Chick and Other Writer Chick have sent in all of the manuscript information and cover art information, so now they get to take a break and wait for the galleys to land on their desks. When that happens, it is their last chance (I think; I only skimmed the emails) to catch anything egregious before things go from manuscript to BOOK. Writer Chick insists I clarify that those weeks before they become galley slaves are not vacation time. They have to keep working on Drama King, and each of them have their own solo projects, so it’s really more of one less chain saw to juggle,

Since there will be one less chain saw to juggle, let me put it out there that Writer Chick could use some of that free time to focus on reading, because she is now two books behind schedule on her Goodreads Challenge. Good thing she has the weekend to get current on that one. Since she already has a loaded Kindle, and an audiobook on Overdrive, so she can technically read two books at the same time (she has not tried that, but she might, if she gets desperate enough. It could happen.)

As usual, Writer Chick was at Buried Under Romance, this past Saturday (she will be there again tomorrow) and this time, she talked about having nothing to read, because there is too much to read. If you’re looking for something to read, hit the link in the caption, and you can read that.

Earlier in the week, Writer Chick went to the local storage unit, with one task in mind: liberate three to five paperbacks from the first box of books she could reach, and bring them home. She is happy to report that her quest was successful, and will probably go a long way to bringing her Goodreads numbers back up to acceptable levels. Her criteria for choosing those books were few. A) she needed to be able to reach the box with the books in it. B) she had to be able to get the books out of the box, and C) they had to each have one thing (at least one thing) that she could point to and say that was why she was interested in that book.

Some of the criteria that could make the list would be things like: geographic setting, historical era, vague memories of reviews that said the book was highly emotional, a favorite character type, or stuff like that. Writer Chick will explain more about that later, either here or on Buried Under Romance. Suffice it to say, there are a lot of reasons Writer Chick might think she could like a particular book, and want to read it. Focusing there is a lot more fun than focusing on what isn’t lighting her fire.

Speaking of lighting fires, and today being the first of March (smooth transition, eh?) today is also the start of one of Writer Chick’s favorite workshops, 31 Days and 31 Ways to Jumpstart Your Abundance, courtesy of abundance coach Eryka Peskin. This workshop is free, and it is fun. Apparently, Writer Chick may get a bonus chance at a drawing or something if you join because of her, but it’s a great place to go to have people tell you you’re awesome, on Facebook. There is also the chance to catch more Writer Chick babble, if you’re into that sort of thing. Punch your paws on this link, below, to get more information, and/or join:

http://www.eryka.com/index.html

In other news Writer Chick took this family photo of most of her turquoise pens (yes, there are more of them that are not in this picture) to compare it against a turquoise pen sampler she saw at an online retailer. She does not accidentally have all of the pens in the sampler, but she does have enough of them that her better bet is probably to buy the pens she doesn’t have, individually. She also has some that are not in the sampler, so there’s that. May I point out her good taste in choosing pens that perfectly complement any handsome stuffed orange boys that might be lying around her work area? She’s very considerate about that. There may be hope for her yet.

In review, Writer Chick needs to read more, has a lot of pens, and will soon become a galley slave. I’m off to stare at squirrels.

Peace out,

Liar McLyingplants, Books, and Other Growing Things

February 25, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

First, we have an update on the Wars of the Roses. Not the historical one, to make things clear from the outset. I mean the one in my living room window. I’d been touched that the boys seemed to be reaching for each other, to make a natural arch for the Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling Memorial Garden, but, yesterday, I found out it was all lies. Tudor (the big, big boy, with both of the rosebuds) had not been twining with his brother, Lancaster, but reaching all the way across him, to steal all of his sunlight, and climb the window. Well, then. I have since changed their seating arrangements, and, since Tudor’s higher stems (branches? New rose mom here, so I don’t know all the terms yet.) get floppy if I move him away from the actual glass, probably some sort of support. Is this where a trellis comes in? I’ve always wanted a trellis. There’s even a scene with a trellis in Her Last First Kiss. Two of the, actually, as what goes up must come down, so this is somewhat romance novel related.

Tudor is the big one, Lancaster is the shrimp.

Most things are, these days, which is a good thing, as that’s what I do, so I will count that as a good thing. In the next week, Melva and I should have the first batch of information for Chasing Prince Charming’s blurbs and such, off to The Wild Rose Press, and then we get to fill out a cover art questionnaire (super excited for this part!) and then it will be galley time. I don’t think this part of the process is ever going to grow old. Won’t be long now before the idea that started as a way to kill time before breakfast turns into a real, live book. I love when that happens.

This time is also bittersweet. Chances of getting an ad and/or review in Romantic Times magazine (aka RT Book Reviews) are nil, because the magazine that had been a mainstay of my romance reading and writing life, closed last year. No editorials on the current plagiarism scandal that has hit Romancelandia (Nora Roberts has a better bead on it than I ever could, so go here for a closer look) from Kathryn Falk, RT’s mastermind, now in well-earned retirement, or from her close friend and one of the OG historical romance writers, the late, great Bertrice Small, a wise woman as well as an unmatched and always original writer. I’m sure ther are other romance writers, who have been around the block a time or two, with opinions and experiences to share on this front, but sometimes, one misses a specific flavor, and that’s applicable to current events at the moment.

My forays into the world of Book Tube continue, as I search out Book Tubers who specialize in the romance genre, and, specifically, in historical romance. It’s a minority, from what I’ve found, and I do love the enthusiasm I see in these predominantly young, so far exclusively women, sharing their love of the historical romances they read. Watching someone geek out about something they love is one of my big pleasures (no guilt!) and poses the question of what it might have been like if Book Tube was around in the 80s and 90s, when many of the books that made me the reader and writer I am were first available. I find the fact that it’s been an entire generation since some of the names that populate my keeper shelves have been the new kids on the block.

There are avid romance readers today, who have never seen a Traditional Regency, and/or would possibly need a minute to pinpoint the difference between a trad Regency and a Regency set historical romance. There are romance readers who have not heard of the midlist cull of long ago (to some) that sliced some wonderful authors with innovative voices and widely varied timeframes, out of the mainstream publishing world. Romance readers exist, and romance writers, as well, who don’t remember when series books were not the norm, and one writer might write -under the same name, no less- in any historical period that struck their fancy. Sure, there are some delightful historical romances that are the bookish equivalent of a romantic comedy movie, with lovely wallpaper, but that’s not the only flavor out there. Darker and grittier (but still with the all-important HEA!) angstbunny me wants to blabber, too.

Where am I going with all this? Not sure I know at this exact moment. Melva and I have our first co-written contemporary romance to see all the way home, as it were (or put on the school bus; that might be a better metaphor) while we move our second co-written book to the end of its first draft, and I am definitely feeling the historical romance love, which means Her Last First Kiss moves ever closer to the end of draft two. A Heart Most Errant, as well, is itching to go back out on the submission rounds, once its edit is done, and a couple of other opportunities are waving at me, so I am still sorting stuff out. I think it’s appropriate for the season of new growth.

How about you? Where are you stretching or itching this season?

Chinese Food in a Darkened Room (With Chasing Prince Charming update)

February 18, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

On Valentine’s Day morning, I wanted to smash my head through a wall. Well, hello there, sinus headache. Great timing. Which also explains Sebastian’s absence on Friday. Lying around is in his job description, after all. When the Writer Chick is away, the handsome orange sutffed boy will…probably take a nap in a sunbeam. Which is why his post did not appear on Friday. He will make up for that later.

How doea a romance writer spend Valentine’s Day? If Christmas is my favorite holiday, and my birthday my second, Valentine’s Day is probaby next. This means that sinus pressure that can only be relieved by smashing the left side of my face into a firm pillow, is not at all the way I want to spend any part of the day, but that is, this year, what I got. Thankfully, smashing only the left side of my face into the pillow meant that my right eyeball was free to view my phone screen. Unthankfully, my attention span was miniscule, so I mostly watched makeup tutorials. On the plus side, my eye contour is markedly improved. This has nothing to do with writing, but I thought it worth a mention.

Real Life Romance Hero earned his name, by bringing home Chinese food, which we consumed with the shades down. He gave me the lion’s share of the wonton soup. There may or may not have been some program with Gordon Ramsey in it (no idea which one, due to aforementioned face in pillow) but, all in all, I am going to call this Valentine’s Day a good one.

This past week also gets a plus for a more writerly reason. Chasing Prince Charming is now headed to the galley phase. This is both exciting and scary. This week, Melva and I need to do the final bits of paperwork, so that The Wild Rose Press has all the pertinent details, and the cover art questions are coming up soon. This means that we should have a release date in the not too distant future, which, in turn, means that Meg and Dominince are soon to make the acquaintance to readers who do not know Melva or I in person. Hopefully, a few whom we do, as well, but we are talking about the general public here. Off Meg and Dominic go, into the world at large, I can promise they’ll behave, but I make no promises as to how.

Drama King moves ever closer to the fifty percent mark of draft number one, while Her Last First Kiss continues toward draft number two. Weekdays have fallen into a natural rhythm. Writing time is writing time, and I know where I”m going, because taking time to pinpoint what, exactly, I am working on for a particular session, takes out a lot of the guesswork. Soon enough, Melva and I will have new tasks to perform, once the publication date is set. I am looking forward to that phase of the journey.

Right now, though, it’s one foot in front of the other. The characters know what they have to do, I, or Melva and I, know them well enough to know which directions to nudge them in, when we come to a fork in the roads of a first draft. Her Last First Kiss is a second draft, which I sometime like better than the first draft, because, the second draft, I already know how what has to happen, has to happen. That gives a framework, which I can scramble aroun, hither and yon, hang from, upside=down, like a monkey (or Monkee; those guys are pretty fun) and, in the very best of all possible worlds, build new framework to expand it all, and construct something new, while I’m at it, focused on what is, to give what will be, room to grow on its own.

How was your Valentine’s Day? What are you reading? What are you writing? What’d I miss?

Typing With Stuffed Paws: Hungry For More Edition

February 8, 2019February 8, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

Greetings, Foolish Mortals. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling, coming at you, with all the stuff on the week that was. Valentine’s Day is less than one week away now. Writer Chick loves Valentine’s Day, and Dude is well aware of that. My only wish for that holiday, is that they either turn me around, or put me in another room. I don’t care which one. The utility closet would be fine. The living room would probably be best, because Writer Chick’s desk chair is Sebastian-sized, and it’s also the room where the TV is. Granted there is no Stuffed ANimal Channel (yet) but technology is making strides every day. Also, best case scenario, Other Chick will want to scoot out somewhere, and I can bring in my entire posse for a stuffed animal party. I’d tell you what kinds of stuff we get up to at such gatherings, but trade secrets and all that.

As always, Writer Chick was at Buried Under Romance this past Saturday. This time, she talked about how a blank bingo card led her to a new plan for her romance reading. Yeah, she’s weird like that, sometimes, but if you’re into that kind of thing, link is in the caption.

Next up is the update on Writer Chick’s Goodreads challenge, which is holding steady at twelve books read, out of ninety-five. That puts her thirteen percent of the way to her goal, and two books ahead of schedule. This was not a very big week for reading, which Writer Chick does not particularly like, but these kinds of things happen. She’s not too worried about it, because, even though we are coming up on her marathon weekend (second weekend of the month is always a big one around here) these weeks of not much reading find their complement in weeks of lots of reading. Since her friend, H, said the last few volumes of Fruits Basket should be on their way sometime this next coming week, and that Writer Chick may want to reread the whole thing, after she has seen how it all turns out, to catch all of the foreshadowing, my prediction is that there will be a sharp uptick in her pages read. This may also mean that she might finally get around to making her reading trackers for this coming year, because she has not done that yet, apart from a page count for January only. Granted, she did meet her pages read goal, and she has been hopping around through a few different planners, but really, Writer Chick, settle.

Speaking of which, the second round of edits have landed on Writer Chick and Other Chick’s desks, and they are getting through them pretty darned quickly. This may be due to a really good editor, but the big show is getting ever closer for Chasing Prince Charming. Writer Chick is also getting through her second drafting of Her Last First Kiss Probably would be in her best interests to form some sort of tracker for that kind of stuff, too, but that will come in time. These kinds of things generally tend to show up in Writer Chick’s head when she needs them. She will probably show you all pictures of them, when they arrive.

All of Writer Chick’s appointments this week got moved around, so there were days when she wasn’t sure what day it actually was, which is not at all that uncommon with a lot of writers, I would imagine. It’s never the same day, exactly, in their heads as it is on the calendar. They are often removed by time and distance from so-called “real life,” which accounts for the slight delay as the writer’s forehead wrinkles, and they do some quick (or not so quick) mental gymnastics or mental arithmetic (I am not sure which one, and I am not particularly bothered by it, so pick whichever one fits your purposes best) to readjust and align their brains with the dairy aisle of the grocery store, or the instructions for the new blender, vacuum cleaner, or whatever, when only seconds before, they were on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, or whatever it is their story people are doing, and are going to continue doing, but without the writer person, so make it snappy, because they don’t want to be too far behind when they do get back to it.

Writer Chick, in particular, is still salty over that one time, when she was a teenager, and her father took her to Yankee Stadium, and she left her book in the car. Writer Chick is not into baseball, and she most certainly was into that book. To this day, she can tell you which book, and at what point, and how that was the one thing on her mind the entire elebenty billion hours the baseball people ran around the grassy patch in the middle of all the bleachers. All these years later, that is her one takeaway from that visit. All right, there was a blue and gray Yankees baseball shirt, and she liked that (it was comfy) but it made a break for the great beyond at some point. We both wish it well. It made a brief appearance in Writer Chick’s time travel manuscript (which is still taking a break) as the heroine’s favorite nightshirt. So far, it has not occurred to her to purchase another shirt of that variety, but maybe it has not occurred to her that blue is the complementary color to orange, as in handsome stuffed orange boy, so there could be aesthetically pleasing cuddling going on while she gets current on her reading goals. No pressure, but I’ll leave that thought right there. Couldn’t hurt.

Peace out,

February Planner Post: Part One

February 5, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

Normally, I would say that Monday’s post on Tuesday was the result of some domestic tornado, but, this time, it was a planner. (Note: this is not a sponsored post. I babble because I love, that’s all.) Sunday night’s weekly Michaels stroll led to the discovery of possibly the most Anna-est personal size planner I have seen to date, on serious clearance. Meet Magnolia Jane, from Heidi Swapp (I think the planner is discontinued, but look at those gorgeous other things in the line) I tried to reason myself out of it, as I already have my Webster’s Pages planner, which was also on serious serious clearance, but I have come to recognize this as The Sign. Planners find me. I don’t fight it anymore.

Needless to say, a bunch of Monday was spent putting this beauty together, moving into her (yes, my planners have genders) and us getting to know each other. Mostly. I still have no idea what I want to do with this page, that starts off every month:

The black washi tape is my addition, but, from top, left, we have a blank section, a dot grid section, and bottom left, gridded section, then the stripey section. Right now, I got nothing, but Housemate, who was actually the one to find this beauty, said it looked like my historical romances, and I have to say she is not wrong. So, home it came, and it is now my writing planner. The white Webster’s Pages is now for household use.

The washi tape is my addition (also another serous bargain; it’s from the three rolls for a dollar bin at Michaels) and I do want to find some prettier way of marking off the days than bare X marks. Possibly a good place to track progress on various projects, once I figure out a decent legend for that. I’ve found these things work best when I let them happen organically. Carry it around naked (the page, not me; it is winter in NY. I will be wearing many, many clothes) for a while and then, bloop, I’ll know what belongs where.

This section, I have mostly figured out. I clicked with this sort of weekly layout in my Dylusions agenda (repurposing as an art journal, now) but wanted some better use for the extra space, as I tend to write vertically. These are better suited to how I work, with half blank, and half gridded sections on each day.

This planner is only for writing tasks/habits, so the weekend, which is not a workweek (not to say that I won’t write on a weekend, and my CRRWA meetings are always on Saturdays) gets blocked off. I’m still figuring out what I want to use to record the daily tasks for the rest of the week. Right now, scrap paper “stickers” are fitting the bill, and the circular sticky notes are for writing related dates/appointments. Both the white circles and pink flags came with the planner kit.

For this planner, I will be using the Uni Ball Signo pens in blackened colors. Very, very dark versions of red, brown, violet, blue, and green, make my heart happy. The outside pocket of the pen pouch has white, gold, and rose-gold pens, for writing on dark backgrounds, so I am set to go on that part. I have not yet figured out the highlighter situation, but probably will use Zebra Mildliners. in curated colors.

This does not by any means imply that I have the whole thing figured out, or that having certain planners or pens or ephemera will magically make me a better writer (cool if that would happen, but that’s not how it works.) For some, a plain ballpoint pen and blank white paper would work much better, and, for them, I say an enthusiastic “go for it!”

What does make me a better writer (yes, of course, writing; I’m getting to that) is that, since I’ve become involved in the planning community as a whole, I want to write more. Playing with the pretty paper and pen toys combines beautifully with wanting to play with my imaginary friends, and, if I am going to be spending hours a day staring at a page or screen, they may as well be pretty pages and screens. This may have something to do with why I like writing heroes and heroines who are creative in some way; write what you know and all that. After all, I’ve already had one hero spring to life (Bern, from Her Last First Kiss) thanks to my fountain pen obsession, and his heroine, Ruby, would be all over the whole bullet journal thing. Maybe she was actually there first, because, hey, she’s in the eighteenth century. Who knows who else may be lurking in my stationery stash?

Watch this space for part two, and a closer look on how I actually use these pretties.

Digging Out

January 21, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

Here we are, once again at Monday. The cold is mostly gone (mostly,) and there is a whole lot of snow outside. The temperature is in the butt cold range, and Real Life Romance Hero is home today, as his place of employment would rather their people not freeze, so this is not as solitary as I would have expected for the day when job one is to figure out how I am going to dig out from basically a week spent away from “real” writing work.

This, of course, begs the question, what is real writing work? Snow is my favorite weather, which is a plus for someone living in NY, during winter. Everything crisp and clean and sparkly, is one of my favorite sights. Because I live in a city, this also means that clean and white and sparkly does not last very long. There are piles of greyish brown ice, puddles of yellow from local canines, odd bits of twigs and shed evergreen needles, trash, and probably a few things that we would all prefer not to itemize. It is kind of like that with writing.

Having a cold like the one that moved in with our family means that butt in chair and fingers on keyboard is not always going to happen, but there is no law against bringing pen and paper to bed. Which is, no surprise, something I do anyway, and, sometimes, all that pen and paper do is sit there while I sleep. They also sit there while I don’t-sleep, because I have hit a thread of insomnia.

Insomnia and colds have a few things in common, namely that the person is in bed, but not having a lot of fun, but they are both well served by a pair of earbuds and audiobooks. Even though the books available at the click of a button (Overdrive) are a sliver of what’s available in the wider world, having a selection of books available in an instant, where I can crawl into my blanket fort and have somebody read me a story, is good for both body and soul.

In the best of all possible worlds, there would be a sort of air lock between sick days, or snow days, or sick days followed by snow days, and regular writing days/return to everyday life after several days of being out of the norm. All of that stuff I’d wanted to do over the sick week, was still there when I got up this morning, and, at first glance, it did look like big chunks of gray and brown ice, with all the traditional accoutrements.

There’s the part of the process that is standing in the middle of the mess, hands on hips, aghast at how much accumulated in my functional absence. Then there’s the “how do I do this stuff again?” portion of our day. Obviously, I can do this, because I was in the middle of doing it when the cold dragged me under, and the snow snowed me under. That snow, though, is still sparkly and pretty and fun to play in, even though there are big icebergs in the middle of the parking lot, so it’s enough to get my boots and mittens on, and tread outside.

Since there is a parking area outside our building, instead of going straight to the sidewalk, none of the actual tenants (aka me) actually have to shovel. This means my back is safe (from that.) I know, I know, I am rambling, and need to get back to the writing things. That, as things would turn out, is exactly what I am doing, rambling down these bunny trails. This is the time to slap everything on the page and/or screen and then see what sticks, afterwards.

A lot of that is messy, but, if I keep at it long enough, the order begins to appear. Today, I swept the crusty tissues and books to be put away “later,” from the coffee table near my desk, and arranged the desk organizer thingies, acquired before the storm, and let my brain free float. Part of that was expressly so that I could follow up on YouTube videos I’d watched, on sick days, about better use of Instagram, aka, the social media platform that appeals to me most, at present. Does using a white board to reflect light, and taking the picture in front of natural light, get rid of the yellow tint that has plagued my pictures for a while now? Could be.

How are you digging out of the weekend?

Köld Front

January 16, 2019annabowling Leave a comment

Whenever Monday’s blog shows up on Wednesday, we know there is a story behind it. Saturday, I felt fine. Had a great time at Capitol Region Romance Writers. Fabulous presentation by Jeanette Grey, a pen swap, some planner chatter (no, this is not a post about planners) with like-minded souls, fun ride there and back, with N and Mr. N, lovely tea at home with Housemate, and quality time with Real Life Romance Hero.

Then I woke, around 1AM on Sunday, both nostrils doing their best Niagara Falls impressions. Not what I would have chosen, especially since I had two volunteer commitments, back to back, for Sunday. For anybody who had to deal with the spacey chick, my deepest apologies. Monday, I spent mostly sleeping, or staring at the ceiling, making a sound vaguely like a foghorn, subsisting on a diet of cherry cough drops and ginger ale. I made myself three cups of tea on Monday, and, each time, I fell asleep before I could drink said tea, waking up when it was disgustingly, un-drinkably cold.

Part of my brain urged me to seize the day. Sick in bed? Yes! The time has come! Netflix all day! Read all the books! Make art! I did none of those things. I lay there in a nest of blankets and tissues, alternating between fever and chills. Thankfully, Nurse Real Life Romance Hero was on the job, and he was a rock star. Even Sebastian pulled extra pillow duty. I made an attempt, yesterday, to rally, which can best be exemplified by mentioning that there is a small notebook of black paper, with gilded edges, around here somewhere, and I have no idea where. We live in a one bedroom apartment. There are not that many places it could be. but misplacing specialty paper is a pretty good sign it’s time to go back to bed. I slept next to a new pack of markers for two days, then did not sleep at all for two nights in a row.

Which brings us to today. I’m still not one hundred percent (that will come) but my brain circles back to Saturday’s CR-RWA meeting. The topic was goal setting for the disappointed writer, which is extremely relative to my interests. Also, I hated having to put off this week’s session with N (we had live writing scheduled!) so I was for sure not wanting to miss my Skype talk with Melva, which means I need to get my behind in gear, and cram a week’s worth of work into one day. Okay, maybe a few days’ worth and move a couple of other things into next week.

What I’ve got right now is this blog, because darned if I am going to miss a second blog this week, then I need to send the latest version of chapter four of Her Last First Kiss to Melva, then look over her latest Drama King scene, and make comments. I also have a scene for Drama King, that I had a ton of fun first-drafting, that needs some smoothing out/second drafting, and I cannot wait to get to any of the above. There is, however, the not so small matter of a cold that has taken on a life of its own. Well, his own.

We call him Köld. The umlat is important. He sounds Swedish, and looks like he plays in a death metal band. He’s a gregarious sort, making the rounds from Patient Zero (aka Real Life Romance Hero) to Housemate, and, then, when I thought I would escape this Köld front, but, alas, no. Köld will, in time, wander off to meet new friends, instead of plopping himself in my computer chair to play MMOs for entire weekends at a time. I would assume he’s playing something like Skyrim. He seems the type. When he does wander off, I will reclaim my throne, and get back to the business of romance writing.

I may even miss him when he’s gone. Not going to lie, having a handsome private nurse/personal chef, at my beck and call, is pretty awesome. He says he has to work tomorrow, so I will be in charge of my own meals. I would grumble (his roast beef melt is amazing) but I’m looking forward to Skyping with Melva, getting up to date on all things with The Wild Rose Press, and Chasing Prince Charming. There will be laundry to do, as Köld uses a lot of towels (also t-shirts and pajamas) but that means reading time, which means I get to make up for some of what I lost by sleeping next to a box of markers.

Who else has experienced a Köld front this winter? What’s your favorite sick day indulgence? Let me know in the comments: I am taking suggestions.

Happy Almost New Year

December 31, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Welp, it’s December 31st. New Year’s Eve. Crunch time for planner aficionados, like myself. The tucked-away week between Christmas and New Year’s has not felt particularly tucked away this year, as real life has butted its nose into pretty much every aspect of it, but I do not expect any less for 2018, but 2018 is almost over. 2019, we have expectations for you. Don’t be 2018, and we should be fine.

Granted, the year has not brought only bad things, as I have edits for a contracted book on my desk, one invitation already, to speak at an RWA chapter, and, this morning, I finished reading The Summer Wives, by Beatriz Williams, which reminded me not only why I love reading historical romance (though I would shelve this one as historical fiction with romantic elements) but why I love writing it, as well, and that’s appropriate for the year when I am making a concerted effort to not only flourish in my new venture of co-writing contemporary romance, with Melva Michaelian, but returning to my historical romance roots, and pumping up the volume in that department.

Since this is technically part of the tucked away week, and thus, technically a holiday, I do want to spend some of it in relax and refill mode, which does include reading, there’s also the knowledge that tomorrow begins the new year (though technically a holiday itself, but we will see how that shakes out in reality) and all the new calendars, trackers, and other related thingamaboodles. I will admit that, this year, I am overplanning.

Not, mind you, in the sense of micromanaging my own writing (though, let’s be honest, I probably will do some of that at some point) but in the sense of having a planner identity crisis. I have my calendars and some trackers set up in the traveler’s notebook I planned to use for the winter months, and I have my writing tracker binder all set up, but, this morning, when I took my 2018 inserts out of Big Pink, I didn’t want to put her away. In the spirit of “yes, and,” that’s fine. Let me find some inserts for her, and she will find a purpose along with what I’ve already planned.

Does this mean I’m going to be all over the place this year, spending more time planning than actually writing? I don’t think so. I’ll use what I end up using, and I will set aside what doesn’t work (at least at the time; it may work very well, for another purpose, later.) This is, not so oddly enough, in line with how I intend to pick my next historical romance project. Toss everything that looks appealing into the mix, stir, brainstorm, babble, see what rises to the surface, what I keep coming back to. Odds are, that will be the one.

2019 is the year of Yes, And, and it’s the year of coming back to myself, on multiple levels. It’s time to rediscover old loves, and discover new ones. It’s the year to try, fail, try, fail, and, in time, try, succeed. Maybe the tucked-away week will find itself tucked somewhere else this year, probably where I would least suspect.

What does 2019 hold for you?

Typing With Stuffed Paws: Writer Chick Smells Like Real Cat Edition

December 21, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Greetings, foolish mortals. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling coming at you, from under the as-yet undecorated Christmas tree. This week, I have news. N and Writer Chick moved their meeting, this week, not only to Friday, but to N’s house, instead of Panera. How does this affect me, you may be asking? Writer Chick came home, smelling of Real Cat. Specifically, this one:

This cat was not, as one might think, my relief. My tenure as Cat regent needs must continue for the foreseeable future. The pictured cat is one of three cats who live with N and Mr. N, but she was the only one who marked Writer Chick as her own, by means of headbutts, ankle weaves, and attempting to disappear into the black of Writer Chick’s coat. It did not work. At least there are no young pretenders for my spot under the Christmas tree. That will probably help me endure my ongoing duties. Probably.

Time for the compulsories for the week. As always, Writer Chick was at Buried Under Romance on Saturday. This time, she reached out to her faithful readers to end her Christmas romance drought, and they did come through. What was the recommendation and was it enough to spark Writer Chick’s interset? Find out here.

As much as the Goodreads updates have meant to me, over the last few months, those are now over. Writer Chick has not only completed the challenge, but exceeded it, with ninety-one books read to date, out of ninety. That is four books ahead of schedule, and more than a week to spare before the end of the year. Not too shabby, Writer Chick. Bring it on for 2019. If you need a reading pillow, I make a good one. If you’re intersted in getting a closer look at teh whole shebang, here it is.

Writer Chick is seriously considering upping the goal for next yaar, to ninety-five, with an eye on one hundred in the next year or two after that. We will see what happens, but she’s feeling\\ng challengey, so watch this space for future details. Her most recent review of the year is actually for a historical romance, Trapped at the Altar, by Jane Feather, which had a lot of elements that make Writer Chick do a happy reading dancce. I am not allowed to show that footage here, but I can share a link. Her most recent read is a 20th century historical YA, Lies We Tell Ourselves. She doesn’t have a review up for that one yet, but have a look at that cover.

This morning, Writer Chick, and N, and probably N’s cat (I don’t know; she looks clever, and I wasn’t there, because nobody invited me. Stuffed guys like a little change of scenery too, you know.) had people food and people beverages and had to each lay out plans for what they mean to do in the coming year. What their goals are, and how they intend to achieve them. What it all boiled down to was “pick the thing you are most excited about, do that until it’s done, and then do the next thing.”

This should hold them over through the holidays, because they will meet, next, in January. At which time Writer Chick plans to show off the writing progress tracker she designed, and made a version of, on dot grid index cards. Writer Chick is hardcore like that. She is also, as I have gathered, pretty hardcore about Christmas in general, though that has not been much in evidence until last night.

Last night, Writer Chick unboxed the Christmas tree. I, of course, immediately claimed it as my own. She says she’s going to put some ornaments on it, once Dude is available. Normally, Writer Chick likes to spread out her Christmas preparation across the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but, this time, she seems to be cramming it all into the next few days. Call it turbo-Christmas. I am not sure what turbo-Christmas entails, I am pretty sure it’s going to involve twinkly lights, and some garland. She already found where Netflix keeps the Christmas movies. Something tells me there here is no stopping her now.

Peace Out

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

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