Morning Pages Have Broken

March 15, 2017annabowling Leave a comment

Okay, not actually broken. More like adjusted, but we’ll get to that. Lots of pictures for this entry. You have been warned.

This morning, I headed outside at six in the morning, to shovel the sidewalk in front of our house. This is what I saw:

Good Morning, Albany.

This morning, I filled the last two page spread in my most recent morning pages book. Normally, I like to plan ahead, and have the next book all ready to go, so I don’t lose any momentum. This time, that was not the case. I love the Paris-themed book by Punch Studio, that I’ve been using; so much so that this is the second copy of that book I’ve bought. I did some online searching, and Ebay shows me that there are three other designs in that line: a different Paris-themed book, one themed around Italy, and another around New York City. Insert sound of angels singing here. Perfect. Only problem is, that I wouldn’t be able to get any of them shipped in time to start the new book.

I didn’t want to have any gaps. The longer away from any creative project, the harder it is to come back, and morning pages have been such a big help that I had to do something. All of the books I’ve had so far have rotating designs, so spread A is different from spread B, different from spread C, and so on, repeating after a short sequence. My visual brain likes that, so it’s a must when I look for a new morning pages book. This time, I couldn’t find any in stores, so I had to get creative. I had a deconstructed Studio Oh book that I’d originally intended for Her Last First Kiss notes, but book and notes were not a good fit, so I put it aside. Plain lined pages, but a lovely, slightly mottled ivory color. Add selections from my collection of design tape, et voila:

front cover

altered pages

It’s not Punch Studio or PaPaYa Art, but it will do for now. What’s important is that it feels like the right place for me to start my day (as opposed to, say, shoveling knee-high snow. That is not a fun way to start a morning.) I’ve found that priming the pump with whatever my brain dumps out in the morning is usually effective, and from there, I go to planning. Here’s the current planner setup:

The small book is my eighteen month planner. Technically an academic planner, but I grabbed it because it is gorgeous and it feels like me. That’s where the day to day calendar things go; appointments, deadlines, RWA chapter meetings, etc. The larger book is a gridded page leatherette Markings book. I struggled to find a use for that one for about two years, lots of false starts and different formats, until I tried the design tape trick. Voila. Now it’s my daily tasks book, in bullet point form on one page per day. In two months, I’ve used more pages than I did in the two years previously. Think I’ve found something that works here, so sticking with it.

Which brings me to Big Daddy Precious, the Papberblanks book that holds my HLFK notes. Few false starts there, as well, but, once I figured out the single line of copper marker at top and bottom of each page, the notebook clicked with me. I started out writing in ballpoint in this book, because fancy book needs fancy pen, but it wasn’t until I switched to mechanical pencil (I do a lot of erasing) that it really clicked-clicked. The ability to erase is incredibly therapeutic, and makes it a lot easier to climb into my characters’ skins and look through their eyes. Will definitely be carrying this practice over into other projects.

Front cover

Inside pages

The fancy twinkle lights are not on the actual page, but are an accurate representation of how it feels to be writing Hero and Heroine’s story. Which is an extremely good way for a writer to feel about the current WIP. I don’t know what it is about the visual connection that does it for me. Maybe it has something to do with being an artist’s kid, and making art, myself. When things in the really real world look similar to what’s in my head, that makes the connection stronger. Not going to complain about that.

If At First You Don’t Succeed…Blabber

March 13, 2017annabowling 2 Comments

Go figure; I plan a blog post with tons of pictures, to blabber about my various notebooks, and that has to be the day all the pictures get stuck in a Gmail queue. This is the same day that my desktop earbuds become my desktop earbud, singular. Slapping a greatest hits deskscape up for now, and we will see if anything changes by the time I get this entry posted. In one ear, I have 80s music, and in the other ear, (short intermission for minor domestic matter) the sounds of puttering Real Life Romance Hero and his fuzzy shadow, Skye. There was also a brief discussion of expiration dates on luncheon components (occupational hazard and/or benefit of having a spouse in the restaurant industry.) The verdict: lunch will not kill us today. That’s reassuring.

One more check of Gmail, annnnd….nope. Le sigh. Okay, winging it instead, because I have pages to get ready for N tomorrow, more pages for Melva soon thereafter, and an arduous stretch of research for an upcoming Heroes and Heartbreakers post. (Okay, not that arduous, as it involves watching key moments from The Walking Dead.) Right now, I’m grumbly, because I had an outline for the post I intended, even a bunch of sticky notes on the wall next to my desk. My first instinct was to take a picture to make up for the pictures that I can’t access until the queue comes through, but that picture would go to the end of the queue, so not exactly an option here. Which is okay. I can refocus.

Plan B is a part of the writing life. It’s going to happen. It happens when we hit “delete” instead of “save,” empty our trash, and then realize what we did. It happens when life intervenes, and we can’t write about XYZ right now, because it’s now either too close to home, or we’re not in that place anymore. Any number of reasons, really. This is the part of the post where I haul out the old Japanese proverb, fall down five times, get up six.

So, what does this mean for today? Since we are now three weeks until I join fellow writer/bloggers, Corrina Lawson and Rhonda Lane at the Let Your Imagination Take Flight conference, and talk about blogging, I feel like I should have something to say here about what one does when one finds oneself in a situation like this. There’s “feel like” and there’s “actually do.” I like having a plan. In fact, the post I wanted to write was all about my use of notebooks in planning, my solution to getting to the end of my current morning pages book before finding a suitable replacement (the answer: DIY, pictures to follow) and how a notebook, no matter how much I love it when it’s pristine and brand new, isn’t really mine-mine until it’s stuffed full of sticky notes, with notes scribbled in the margins, decorative tape on the pages (that’s a new one, but what has been seen cannot be unseen) and how Picasso really was right that all creation begins with destruction (of the blank page/canvas.) I can blabber about all of that, but it’s not the same without the pictures. Not that not having pictures stops me, but it does present a challenge.

Which is okay. I can write that post on Wednesday. I have the pictures on the way, I have the sticky notes on my wall, and I’ve blabbered my way to nearly the magic 700, so I’ve got that going for me. Once I am done here, it is lunch with Real Life Romance Hero, and then I get to go play with my imaginary friends (part of me suspects I should be capitalizing that -Imaginary Friends- since I am using it instead of their names) and also have some tea. The tea is important. By that time, I will probably have given up on my earbud, singular, and opt for closed office door and computer speakers because I need my playlists. This will also result in Skye outside said office door, looking pitiful. Okay, maybe make the speakers and slightly open office door and Real Life Romance Hero will need to deal with the sounds coming from said speakers, because kitty face.

Allrighty, past the magic 700 mark, so time to feed my beloved family and then off to century eighteen. See you Wednesday.

Typing With Wet Claws: Tell Them About It Edition

March 10, 2017annabowling Leave a comment

SkyeMarchPolaroid

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is now less than one month until Anty goes to the Let Your Imagination Take Flight Conference, to talk to other humans about blogging. I will not be going, because I am a kitty, and kitties like to stay home, but that does not mean I will be entirely missing from the workshop. That would never happen. After all, I do write one-third of the posts on this blog.

It is Anty’s blog, though, and the rule is that I have to talk about Anty’s writing before I can talk about the important stu…um, what I want to talk about this week. That is the rule, so here we go. As always, Anty has her post at Buried Under Romance. This week, she talks about spring fancies, or those particular elements of romance novels that will make us buy the book without knowing anything else about it. Like, for example, if the book has cats in it. I think cats make any book better, as long as good things happen to those cats. That post is here, and it looks like this:

BURSpringFancy

Anty cringed when I told her it was time for the Goodreads update, because Anty did not do that great on reading this week (I will tell you why later) Now she is five books behind, in her Goodreads challenge, instead of four. I would be lying if I did not say she did not panic a little, because she did. Anty loves to read, and reading is very important to writers. It allows them to see what others in their field are doing, what is happening outside their preferred genre, and it is fun, so they want to do as much of it as possible. Anty did not finish any new books this week, but she did make progress (she cannot tell how much in Night of Fire, because it is on her Kindle, and that has to charge before she can use it again.) Anty’s Goodreads challenge page is here, and it looks like this:

GoodreadsProgress100317

One of the reasons Anty has not had as much time for reading as she would like this week, is because she has been doing a lot of writing. Since she is a writer, that is a very good thing. She has been doing some research for the world of Her Last First Kiss. A lot of things were different in 1784 than they would be for us today. Anty had to research about what colors rooms could be painted (did you know different colors of paint cost different amounts?) She also had to look up things about how perfumes were made. As a kitty, I appreciate the extra effort put into smells. Smells are very important. Anty reminds me of this every time she picks up some of my, um, stuff. The more details Anty can find about the world of her story, the easier it is for her to bring that world to life for the readers. Miss N says she is doing a good job with that, and that makes Anty happy, which makes for more writing, which makes her want to do even more writing.

Anty is still thinking about how she wants to set her goals for writing (she hears a Critique Partner Vicki voice in her head, saying a very big NO when Anty thinks about doing Camp NaNo, because word count and Anty are not friends; page count, however, plays nice,) but one thing she does know is that she absolutely does have to be accountable to somebody else, who will not cut her any slack on that front. It is the same for reading. If she does not have to tell anybody how she is doing, then how she is doing does not matter, and things may not get done. On the other paw, if she knows Miss N is expecting at least six polished pages by 8AM on Tuesday morning (which sometimes gets moved to Wednesday morning) then she will have six polished pages by 8AM Tuesday morning. Actually, that would be more like 8PM on Monday night, because Anty likes having things ready ahead of time. It is the same for reading. If nobody is keeping track of what Anty is reading, then does it really matter? Making this public is a reminder that it is not only Anty, shut off from the rest of the world. That is a very easy feeling for Anty to get, and talking about what she is doing, and leaving it open for comment, by anybody, staves that off.

Writing is a complicated business, and it has a lot of feelings attached to it. For writers like Anty, thinking and talking often happen at the same time (I strongly suspect Miss N and Critique Partner Vicki can back me up on this) so blabbering about the writing process helps Anty figure the whole thing out, and knowing what she is doing helps her do more of it. She does not know everything yet (she is not a kitty, after all) but every day is another step closer to Happily Ever After for Hero and Heroine, for Guy and Girl, and towards the next projects, so Anty can start it all over again.

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

skyebye skyebanner01

Sifting For Nuggets (not the chicken kind)

March 6, 2017annabowling 2 Comments

Right now, I am sitting at my desk, with my second cup of tea after I got back from the laundromat (third cup of tea for the day, total) in a short-sleeved t-shirt, with a blanket on my lap, because wearing a sweatshirt is too hot, but not having anything snuggly is too cold. This is the acceptable compromise. So far, I have written and discarded several paragraphs of this entry, because they ended up going nowhere, which means they were not the right topic for today’s post. I am listening to the Discover Weekly playlist Spotify suggested for me. I would rather be writing fiction.

Part of that is because I have my weekly critique session with N tomorrow, and I need to show her pages. Part of that is because I have more of an idea what I need to write on both books than I do this entry. I like having a plan. Because of last week’s sinus headache, I do not have a plan for this entry. Which means I am winging it, because I can get to the fiction writing once I have the blog posted, so time to whip off the metaphorical coverup, run down the metaphorical dock, shout, “Ronkonkoma,” and cannonball into the water. There. That’s plan. Kind of. We’ll go with that.

The first thing I tried to write about here was that today starts the official (for me, anyway) countdown to conference time. One month from now, I will be on my way to the Let Your Imagination Take Flight conference, and my first time co-presenting a workshop (on blogging, yet; wait, I know stuff about that? :shifty eyes: Hi, I’m Anna. I take pictures of my desk and blabber about my imaginary friends. Thank you for giving me roughly an hour of your time. Did I mention numbers are not my strong suit? Yeah, that’s why I make up stories and tell people who kissed on TV.) I am also, after a coughtycough years hiatus from pitching, voluntarily sitting across a very small table from an industry professional and tell her why her readers should hand over coin of the realm to play with my imaginary friends. I also have no idea what I’m wearing, although it will probably be black. So that’s one thing settled…and I’m drifting, but over halfway to the magic seven hundred words that will let me post this puppy and move on to the fiction writing part of our day.

The other part of why I would rather be writing fiction right now is that this is one of those turning points, where Hero commits to a course of action and takes his first steps -or missteps, really, at this point- in that direction. He knows what he wants to do, even if he isn’t entirely sure how to start actually doing it, and, while that’s not at all fun for him, it is for me. Call it one of those instances of authorial schadenfreude. Maybe two, really, because, when I get done with him, I get to go torture Heroine for a while. I also get to mess with Guy and Girl later in the week, when Hero and Heroine need a break.

The pull to get back to both couples is strong, and I get itchy when I’ve been away from them for too long, which is a very good thing. That means they’re real and alive and taking an active role in getting ready to meet readers. Always helpful when they carry their share of the load. Mighty kind of them, as Real Life Romance Hero would say.

One might argue, if the pull is that strong, that I might have flipped things around and written the fiction first, before tending to bloggy matters. That’s true, I might, but I also know myself well enough to know that, once I get in there, I’m not going to want to come out and I’d get to the end of the day and oh shoot, where did the blog go? Nope. This is where the discipline comes into play. To paraphrase Lin-Manuel Miranda (who kind of maybe knows a thing or two about this writing stuff) when inspiration isn’t there, toss stuff on the page without inspiration and then sift for nuggets.

I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean chicken.

Typing With Wet Claws: Headache Relief Edition

March 3, 2017annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Things have been quieter than usual around here for the last couple of days, because Anty has a sinus headache. She gets those sometimes, before a big rain, which we were supposed to have, but did not get, so the headache stuck around. Do not worry, part of the duties of a mews is to be a good nurse when needed, so I have been sticking close. She is starting to do better now, so I think that means I have been doing a good job. Taking her medicine with caffeine and taking naps probably helped, too, but I think it was mostly me. Also Uncle. All right, and Mama.

Anyway, Anty thinks the worst of it is probably over, and that is a good thing. She did get a brand new picture of me, and in a very crafty way. She fed me, in my room, and then sat in the doorway and waited for me to finish. I could not get out without getting past her, and that is when she took my picture. She also paid me for my trouble by letting me watch a few minutes of my favorite movie, Koi in Their Winter Tank. I love this movie. It is wonderful. It has everything. It has fish, and, well, that is really all it needs. I will take movie time as fair payment for my work.

Anty is now making noises that could mean her sinuses are draining, or they could mean that she would like me to get to the point and post about her writing, so I will do that. She is on her own with the sinus thing. This week, as usual, she posted on Buried Under Romance. It is all about spring awakenings (no, not the Broadway show) this week, and the thrill of discovering something new. You can read that post here, and the link on the main page looks like this:

Her next post at Buried Under Romance will be up tomorrow, so stop by to see what she is talking about this week.

Since it is now March, it is now time to report how Anty is doing on her Goodreads challenge. She is four books behind schedule, which she does not like, but she is not worried. Four books is not that much, and she has four in her currently reading section, so all she has to do is finish those, and boom, back on track. If you would like to see Anty’s reading progress, you can do that here, and, so far, it looks like this:

This week, the days have been mostly the days they are supposed to be, except for Wednesday being Tuesday. That was a little disconcerting, but two good things happened because of Tuesday being a day late. The first one is that the mallards are back in the lake at the park. I am always in favor of the return of birdy-type creatures. Maybe Anty will take a movie of them and let me watch it. Anty makes very good duck movies. To be fair, the mallards may have been back before Wednesday, but that is when Anty saw them.

The other good thing is that Anty is very glad she had the extra day to work on her pages for Her Last First Kiss, because Miss N said that these were Anty’s best pages yet. Anty was very happy to hear that. Critique Partner Vicki also loved these pages, so that went a long way to balance out all of the headache ick. Getting good feedback lets Anty know that the story in her head is making it to the pages, and makes her want to go home and write even more pages. Even when a headache makes her want to smash her head into a wall. Do not worry, she did not actually do that. It is a figure of speech.

Anty also found a really, really good passage in Miss N’s pages and told Miss N exactly that. Miss N told Anty that, for that part, she sat down with pen and paper and put on the page exactly what was in the character’s head. That is also what Anty did for one of the scenes in her own pages. Great minds, it would seem, really do think alike. Anty and Miss N talked about that for a while, and how, for both of them, it is sometimes easier to write with pen and paper than compose directly on the computer. Pen and paper are also more portable (eve with laptops) so, really, writing can happen anywhere. In Anty’s case, writing by hand can help her feel even more connected to her characters, because she writes historical stories. Miss N’s story is contemporary, but she is also thinking about a historical of her own, when this is done.

Hopefully, Tuesday will be on Tuesday this coming week, because Anty is very much looking forward to moving into the next phase of this second draft. This will involve research into old-timey bathtubs, art history, and putting Hero in the unfortunate position of wanting to cross the one line he swore he would never cross. Heroine does not come off much better in this chapter, because what she wants to do and what she has to do are two different things, and she is not okay with that. Anty loves that kind of stuff.

Taking pleasure in things getting worse for other people, and taking an active role in making things worse for them, would be mean in real life, but, for writers, it is not mean at all. It is actually good, because things have to get worse for the characters, before they can get better. They can only be completely happy at the very, very end. Because Anty and Miss N both write romance, they know that the happy ending is a guarantee, but, up until then, anything goes, and that is a lot of the fun in writing. No matter what Anty and Miss N throw at their story people, things will be all right in the end. That is also the source of many of the evil cackles and overly dramatic groans anyone in Panera might hear on Tuesday mornings (or whatever day Tuesday ends up being that particular week.)

Anty says it is time for her to use the computer now, so that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Grouse

March 1, 2017annabowling Leave a comment

The fact that today’s picture is an off-center banner image should say pretty much everything. The calendar says today is Wednesday, though it was also Tuesday, as N and I moved our meeting this week, to accommodate both our schedules. My brain also says it is Tuesday extension, as, thanks to a sinus headache (thanks, barometric pressure,) I did not sleep last night. This may be one of the reasons I am considering going to bed at slightly after 3PM. I thought about moving today’s blog to tomorrow, but my internal calendar is muddled enough already, and tomorrow is Buried Under Romance post writing day, as well as fiction writing, and I know myself well enough to know when I’ve reached my limit in the stuff-on-my-metaphorical plate situation.

Today, when I walked through the park, on my way to meet N, I noticed a green haze of buds on the willow tree near the lake, and, on the lake, ducks swam. The mallards are back. It’s March first. Even a winter person like me has to admit that all looks pretty spring-like. Had to happen sometime. I could do without the sinus headache, though, but I could not do without my weekly critique session.

Quote from my morning pages, on the pages I brought for N to read:

I have nine pages today, and they are not my favorites, but they are a second draft, and I will make them better on the third pass.

Part of me wanted to tell N straight out that I wasn’t sure about these pages. That I wanted to take them back and do better. Was sending Heroine to a different part of the house to completely lose her, um, stuff, then take another whack at the whole rational adult thing stupid, ineffective, or insert own personal pet fear here? There are few units of time longer than the time between one’s critique partner putting down the pages and their mechanical pencil, saying “well,” and then completing the sentence with “this is the best chapter so far,” or words to that effect. The parts I was most nervous about were the ones that seemed to work the best for her, which means this may be something I want to do more of in the future, because I love that squidgy butterfly stomach feeling. Hopefully, next time, I can manage something more cool and sophisticated than the squeak of “really?” that actually came out of my mouth. Or maybe not. Maybe that’s the appropriate response, and I should roll with it.

What stands out to me most about the difference from this chapter and the previous ones of this draft, is that I didn’t write it, as much as write it down. I don’t mean that I wrote it in longhand, though I did, in mechanical pencil, in my Big Daddy Precious notebook, but that following Heroine was all I needed to do. I handed her the metaphorical reins, and off she went. She did not mind her language. She got mad. She threw things. She dug up old (metaphorical) bones and wanted something she couldn’t have, and got mad about it. She got loud. She got petty, and she knew she got petty, and she didn’t care, because she’d had one of those days, and y’know what, no regrets. Well, not in that scene. There’s still a lot more story to go, but, for right then…yeah. It felt right. For both of us.

Next chapter is Hero’s POV, and he has no idea any of this has happened, though he has his own issues. It’s going to be an interesting contrast, and, hopefully, some time with a mechanical pencil and Big Daddy Precious (along with some extra research into bathtubs of the eighteenth century) I can take what’s already there and make it better. If it weren’t for the headache, I’d probably be doing that right now, but will retreat to the bedroom with caffeine and Ibuprofen and wait for the weather to break.

Maybe I’ll read, or maybe I’ll lie there with eyes closed and a light blanket. It’s in the sixties, so I don’t need the warmth, but I like the weight of the blanket. As with writing, go with what works.

Typing With Wet Claws: A Writer’s Mind is a Terrible Place Edition

February 24, 2017annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Anty had to check to make sure it is Friday, because it has been one of those weeks. Anty already talked about that here, so I will not go over it again. Suffice it to say that she has been using her calendars more than usual this week, because it has been more than a little confusing. Part of today is still part of yesterday , part of tonight may get moved to Sunday, because Saturday night is the new Sunday morning, and Anty still has not had that nap. She also has not been to her favorite coffee house in two weeks, by her best guess, and that makes her crabby. Nobody likes it when Anty is crabby. That is when she needs an extra dose of mews therapy, which is where I come in. Well, actually, I will come in anywhere as long as the door is open. Yes, that includes the bathroom. If the door is closed, I will sit outside it and wait. I can do that for hours.

One thing that has not changed is that I have to talk about where you can read Anty’s writing from this week, other than here. As always, Anty posted at Buried Under Romance on Saturday. This week, she wrote about the escapist nature of romance fiction. Anty does not like that term, escapist, because she does not find it accurate, but you can read more about that in her post. That post is here, and it looks like this:

Anty did not put any new reviews on Goodreads this week, because it was a crazy week, and she mostly wrote before bed instead of read. She hopes to do better on that this coming week, but if you are interested to see what Anty is reading, and you do not already follow her on Goodreads, you can find that out on her Currently Reading page. That page is here, and it looks like this:

Hmph. Okay, it looks similar to this. There is a reason cats are not widely known as graphic designers. There is not a picture of me on the page. I put it over reviews by other people, because I do not have permission to put their reviews on this post. That is because I did not ask, and, anyway, there can never be enough pictures of me. Some of these books, Anty started reading a while ago, and then life exploded, but that does not mean she is not interested in finishing them, if that is all right with the universe. Anty sometimes yells that part, even if I am the only one around. I know she is not yelling at me, so do not worry about that.

This week has been an interesting one for Anty, which means it has been an interesting week for me. For one thing, Uncle was home a lot more than he usually is. I liked that, because he is my favorite. I do not care that much what he is doing; being around him is enough for me. Anty likes having him around, too, and he is pretty good about understanding that a closed office door means only knock if there is an emergency or food. Uncle starts his new job this afternoon, so it will be me and Anty again, which is kind of normal. Anty thinks she will probably go to the coffee house so that they know she did not fall into a sinkhole, but she will probably take a notebook instead of her laptop. Sometimes, Anty has to unplug.

When Anty feels all rushed and crowded, then she knows it is time to unplug. Turn off the computer (unless she is playing Sims or chatting with friends) and open a notebook, book or make some art. That is not wasting time; that is filling her well. When she identifies a picture of otters on the computer as “puppies,” then she knows it is time to shut the whole day down and go to sleep. She is still not sure if she has to, at some point, identify actual puppies as “otters,” to reset the balance, but that is the kind of thing that goes through the mind of a writer when she is stressed.

There is a good side to that, too, though. Another thing that goes through Anty’s mind when she is stressed, is that she needs to write things out to process them. It is like talking on paper for her, which is useful when she gets this need in the wee hours of the morning and all the other humans are still asleep. Later today, after she crosses her essentials off her to do list, she will fill the last two detachable pages of the Moleskine she keeps in her purse. That still leaves her with the decision of what to do with the non-detachable pages, as the whole point of having that book was so that she could take out the pages when she needs to transcribe them, but she will deal with that later.

For now, it is time for her to take the computer back, so that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Unbalanced

February 23, 2017annabowling 5 Comments

This week, Saturday was Sunday, Sunday was New Year’s Day, Monday was Saturday, Tuesday was Monday, Wednesday was Tuesday, though I’m writing its post on Thursday, and I could use another nap. Well, nap, period. In the words of Alice (of Wonderland, not Mel’s Diner) I haven’t had one, so how could I have another? The forecast says we may hit sixty-six degrees today. In northern NY. In February. It’s kind of a mess.

I don’t like messes. My ideal weekend, in fact, would include cleaning and organizing my office. Maybe the dining room too, if I get really wild. I want to put things where they go, turn piles into files; that sort of thing. Yesterday, I kept forgetting what day it was, and exclaimed, “oh, puppies!” when I saw a picture of otters. It’s probably a good thing I am not a veterinarian, if I can’t tell the difference between otters and puppies, and definitely a sign that I need one of those nap things. Also, to get out of the house and be around people who do not share my mailing address. My people meter is low.

Tomorrow, Real Life Romance Hero starts a new job, so Friday will, hopefully, look like a normal Friday. I could use the routine. Today is part Wednesday, a little Tuesday, definitely Thursday, and my writing/critting commitments for the day take me through past, present and future. This is enough to make me throw up my hands and retreat to a blanket fort, but that would probably be too hot at sixty-six degrees, so blanket fort is not a viable option, even if the blanket fort does have Netflix.

Because Sunday was New Year’s Day, it wasn’t a writing day, or writing prep day, and that made Monday a grumbly, frantically preparing pages for Tuesday morning critique day. Which ended up being moot, because the one time N doesn’t check her email, so she doesn’t see my message, asking if she could please print my pages, because the family car is committed to RLRH’s job interview (this is the job he starts Friday) and I still can’t find what’s jamming the printer that is right next to my desk, so this means there is still a part of Tuesday out there, ready to pop out at me at some yet to be determined time, after N has had a chance to read and comment on said pages.

Tuesday night, which my brain remembers as Monday, even though I know it was Tuesday, I didn’t watch This Is Us, which I love, because I was working on Her Last First Kiss, and, while part of the reason I stayed at the keyboard instead of shambling off to the living room was that I wanted to stay with the story (because N’s comments, when she had me talk to her about the new scene, even though the pages were cozy in her inbox, got me going and I wanted to capture them) another part of it was that my brain was too flat out tired to switch from writing mode to watching TV mode.

Right now, I have a cable knit blanket in my lap, not because I am cold (though I am sitting directly under a ceiling fan) but because I feel more comfortable with something on me, and also because it’s normal. This has not been a normal week. This week also brought the passing of a cousin I hadn’t seen in quite some time, though we had recently reconnected on FB, as well as renewing acquaintances with two other cousins. One of them now lives in the same city where I attended college for two years, and where I met RLRH. Small world.

Today’s task list is a mishmash of things from other days, shuffled around, grafted in and cobbled together. As much as I like making order out of chaos, this feels like a lot of chaos. This is where Anne Lamott’s famous one inch picture frames come into use, as well as Barbara Samuel’s “in this moment,” writing prompt. What do I need to do right now? Do that. Everything else can wait its turn. Right now, it’s this blog entry. After that, tea.

Technically, slipping out to the coffee house this afternoon is actually last Friday, in case my personal timeline wasn’t spiraled enough, but I know there will be tea and I will plug in my earbuds and open a notebook or turn on my laptop, and, as a once upon a time writing group facilitator often said, the practice begets the product. Her rule was that, once our pens hit the pages, they had to keep moving until she called time. It didn’t matter what we wrote on those pages, only that we kept the pens moving. Our brains knew how to write, and, they know that’s what happens when pen is on paper.

There have been many times this week, when I didn’t know what day it was, or 5PM felt like 10PM, 2AM felt like 6AM and 9PM at the same time, but the one thing that has remained a constant is the writing. Hero and Heroine, Girl and Guy, know what they’re doing, where they’re going, and how they’re going to get there. Think I’ll let them drive.

Typing With Wet Claws: Did Not See That Coming Edition

February 17, 2017annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This week, Anty was very crafty with her picture taking. She sat on the floor, in the doorway of my room, while I ate, waited for me to finish, and then she took my picture. I was not prepared for that, but it did give room for me to play with adding graphics, so that is a good thing, even if I did not expect it. This week had some unexpected things in it, but before I can get to that, I have to talk about Anty’s writing first, so I will get to that right away.

As usual, Anty was on Buried Under Romance this week, and this time, she talked about the changing definition of Happily Ever After. Does that mean that the humans never have any problems because they are in love, or does the fact that they are together enough? Does it mean something else? What about Happy For Now? Anty’s post on that subject is here, and it looks like this:

Anty was also very excited to read her first Juliana Gray historical romance, because Miss Juliana is also Miss Beatriz. That’s Beatriz Williams, whose historical women’s fiction Anty loves, so she could not wait to see what the same author could do with an actual historical romance. She was not disappointed. You can read her review here, and it looks like this:

Now we get to the unexpected part of our post, but, since I already said in the title that things were unexpected, you probably expected that. This proves you are smart. I will start with the Anty part. If you read Wednesday’s post, then you know Anty did not expect to twist her ankle inside Panera, when she’d taken pains (see what I did there?) to avoid injury on her way to the place, but that is what happened. Thankfully, it was not a bad twist, and Anty did not even need the wrap on the second day, so it was not a big adjustment, but she is glad that writing involves sitting, and that her office chair is very comfortable. It is cat approved, by its previous owner, but not this cat. I still hate Anty’s office carpet and am trying to guilt her into having it taken out.

The other unexpected thing happened yesterday. Uncle got a phone call to come in to work ahead of his shift, along with everybody else. He was not expecting that, but he did suspect what it might be, and he was right. The company Uncle worked for closed down many of their locations in our region, and Uncle’s workplace was one of them. Nobody had expected that, but that is what happened. Uncle and Anty are not worried, because Uncle is smart and very good at what he does, and he has a plan.

Having a plan helps a lot when the unexpected occurs, which, Anty believes, one should expect. Emergencies and accidents very rarely give advance notice. That is why there is a backup bag of treats in the pantry, and I do know about the kitty laxatives they said we were all done with. Even though we all hope I will not need them again, in case I do, they are there. I should hope I would get one of those emergency treats afterward. But I digress.

Anty likes plans. She likes them a lot. Plans help her stay on track when the unexpected occurs. Get up in the morning, write morning pages, make task list for the day, do the things on the list. That stays the same no matter what happens. It is like an anchor that keeps a ship in place. Sticking to her plan yesterday helped Anty stay calm and trust that things are going to be okay even with Uncle’s big news. When it was time to work on Her Last First Kiss, Anty opened her notebook, got out her pencil, and figured out what the scene needed to make it better.

Plans also help Anty with her goals. Anty loves her sessions with Miss N and Anty Melva, and would like to make faster progress with each draft of these books. That means she needs to find a way of tracking what she is already doing and focusing on the things that will help her do it best. For some writers, setting a word count is very helpful. For Anty, not so much, but if she keeps track of different things about each session, then she can see the patterns emerge. What time of day is best for her (hint: that is morning, even if there are other humans around, so this may require leaving the house on some mornings) and worst (after 2PM, she gets sluggish, and do not ask her for anything between 9-10 PM unless you like to be snarled at; I,personally, do not.)

One thing that has worked for Anty in the past is setting a page count goal. She does not know how this came to be (much like how her electronics came to be pink whenever possible) but she and Miss N generally exchange six pages at a time each week. Anty finds that a comfortable amount to exchange, but she would like to step things up a bit. Maybe not shove a whole pile at Miss N at once, but we are past the initial draft here, and Anty’s story people are eager to meet their readers. It is her job to facilitate that meeting.

That is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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

What if I Fall?

February 15, 2017annabowling 5 Comments

This week, N and Mr. N picked me up for the weekly critique session, so I wouldn’t have to tromp through the arctic tundra of the park, and risk bodily harm in the ice and snow. Good people, those Ns, but what actually happens? I twist my ankle on my way from microwave (occupational hazard of extroversion; food goes cold while blabbering, and needs to be reheated) to seat. I do not remember exactly what happened, but apparently, I was airborne for a second there.

I do remember my bagel getting some serious air and landing, thankfully, on the table, so no bagels were harmed, but my ankle is another story. My favorite Panera worker rushed over to make sure I was okay and had not hit my face on the table. I had not. I remembered enough to remove my boot in case of swelling (I saw none at the time, Housemate said there was some, when she got home that afternoon) and ask Panera Worker for an ice pack. Panera worker dashed into the back and returned with an impressive bag of ice, and the admission that they live with a nurse, so they know how to make these things. I propped my foot on an empty chair, plopped the ice bag atop it, and returned to bagel preparation. This particular ankle has been noodley since I was but a wee little princess, so this honestly was no big deal for me. Had worse, had wrap for ankle at home, had crutches if needed, I’m there, N is there, we have pages, let’s do this.

Since N and I have been doing this critique thing with each other for a while now, it’s no surprise that we’ve picked up on patterns in each other’s work. The word, “more,” comes up a lot. In Her Last First Kiss, Hero is an artist, and N and Mr. N are both artists, and one of Hero’s preferred mediums is one of Mr. N’s preferred mediums -I did not plan that, it happened that way, as such things sometimes do- so this is an extremely useful connection. In this scene, Hero is one gobsmacked fellow, unprepared for encountering Heroine for the first time, especially in the place and context, and he’s knocked off his axis by the experience.

N marked this passage as one of my “more” places. Hero needed to see more. Sure, it’s nice that Heroine has symmetrical features, but it’s more than that. Her hair isn’t only “brown,” but sienna and umber and the color a perfect cup of tea is before the milk goes in, and he doesn’t have all his paints with him, but he’s in London, so he’ll have to go buy them and he doesn’t have a painting room here yet and uh, what did the other people in the room just ask him? He wasn’t really listening. Oh crud, she looks impatient. How long was he off in art world? Stuff like that.

This is good. This is stuff I need to know, to bring Hero and Heroine’s story and their world to life on the page. It’s also scary. That lush detail stuff is what I love in historical romance. 1784 people are not 2017 people. They have a whole different frame of reference. Hero is always going to see in terms of lines first and then colors. Heroine is always going to want to make order out of chaos (and Hero is pretty much a whole lot of tall, ginger, misunderstood chaos on two legs) so that’s always going to affect the choices they make, and the windows through which they observe, and participate in, their world. This is why I go for emotionally complex historical romance over, say, funny contemporary (which is a whole other skill set.)

At the same time, it requires silencing (or at least muting) years of “whittle it down” and “make it simple” and “fast, fast, fast” and other commonly heard pieces of writing advice, some of which are not as well suited for this kind of story. There is no writing cabal that has hard and fast compulsories on this kind of things. To put it in terms Hero can understand, I get to color with all the crayons in the box. The good thing about that is that the combinations are endless; I can dive in, go nuts, put hot pink next to red-orange and scribble gray on top of the whole thing. I can work it so that the difference between blue-green and green-blue makes total sense, throw a neon in with a pastel if that’s what the particular picture needs.

The scary thing about that is also that I can go nuts. More combinations means more combinations that could go wrong, and what if “they” don’t like it? Oh, but, what if they do? Ships in harbors and all that rot. I’d rather take the chance than be safe. As Critique Partner Vicki once said, “intentionally go too far.” It’s easier to take out than to put in, very much so. So that’s what I’m doing now. Making notes on where I can do that whole “more” thing, and then moving along as though I had already made those changes. I’ll get those on the next pass. My goal is to get this book out in the world, on an editor/publisher’s desk, or on the road to indie release, before December.

Am I going to fall somewhere on that road? Yes. That’s not what matters. What matters is that I get back up, ice that twisted extremity, and dive in as deeply into the characters and their world as I possibly can. Kind of appropriate that my ankle twisted before the critique session began, in that regard. By the time Mr. N came to collect us, I was ready to see if I could put weight on my ankle (I could) and Panera Worker came back by our table with a big smile and a free pastry ring, to make the day better. I’m pretty sure not all rewards of keeping on keeping on in this writing game come with cream cheese and cherry filling, but, sometimes, they do.

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

personal