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Mandatory Midweek Post

annabowling Leave a comment

I want to know that there’s something just beyond MY ability, that I can eek (sic) out one day that can move people like I’ve been moved.

–Ben Folds

I’m grumpy today. Kitty with tummy trouble will do that to a gal, and coming on the tails of a Monday and a half, especially with a gorgeously cool and rainy day that I would love to spend reading, especially (yes, two especiallies in one sentence; it’s that kind of day, and it’s my blog, so hush) now that we have a comfy cushion on our windowseat, the temptation to give this day a certain digit and slack off is strong.

Here’s why I’m not. In a word, discipline. I am the first one to turn into a whimpering ball of jelly when I look at the publication date on my most recent book. I am also the one in charge of the publication date for my next one. I have a novella scene due to my collaborator tomorrow, so I need to get that down today, at least the bare bones. I can do the bare bones, even when I’m grumpy and have one eye on kitty doings. Not consciously drawing on Anne Lamott’s one inch picture frame, but it’s similar.

Organizing and making lists works incredibly well for me. I don’t have to write the entire book today. Shoot, I’m only writing part of the book, because Collaborator Melva kicks writing butt and we are so much on the same page (pun intended) that it’s scary. It doesn’t have to be perfect. If I’m off, she’ll tell me, and we’ll fix it, together. What it has to be is written. That’s it. Bullet points are fine. Present tense is fine. I can fix bad, but I can’t fix blank. (Thank you, Nora Roberts, for that one.)

“Do what you can do, when you can do it,” is  a phrase I learned while caregiving, and it applies to writing as well. Life is going to happen. Cats are going to throw up, phones are going to go to the great charging station in the sky, and grumpy days are going to happen. These are the times I like to focus on what I can do, rather than what I can’t, or haven’t, or didn’t. One of the items on my bare bones to do list was write today’s blog entry. I had nothing when I started, unless fretting pet-aunt mode was an option  (on a writing blog, it usually isn’t) and Skye is currently hanging out in her regular rainy day spot under the bed in the master bedroom. She has a bowl of water, and I’ll keep an eye on her. The other eye has to be on the writing.

This isn’t my favorite entry. I’m blabbering, but it’s honest. It’s where I am. That’s something I’m working on strengthening, in both fiction and nonfiction. I have Ben Folds’ new album playing, a mix of his usual music and a symphonic orchestra (my love for pop/rock combined with an orchestra knows no bounds, really it doesn’t) because his work is always good for jump-starting my own. Getting to those deep emotions and the insecurities characters like to hide from the world, because those are things that will prove them weak, get them rejected, make them vulnerable. Those are my jams. I love that stuff. In romance, I can throw basically anything at my characters, as long as they end up happy and together at the end. Since I write historical, that means I can use wars and natural disasters and political upheaval, and all of that ready made good stuff to cause bumps in the road to Happily Ever After.

Being a character focused writer means that I can play with the voices in my head when I don’t know what we’re going to be doing today. That’s a good jumpstart again. If I don’t know how they’d react to X, then that means I don’t know them well enough, most likely, and we are going to need to have some tea and a good long talk, them and me. We’ll get through it. Bullet point by bullet point. There will be another day when I blaze through multiple scenes without breaking a sweat. Taking this day for what it is, doing what I can, and then refilling the well is the best way to get to that new release, the next article, and hey, look right there. I wrote a blog entry. Cross that puppy off the list and let’s get back to that novella scene.

Monday Junior

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Focus on writing the story you want to tell. Don’t worry about how many words, what genre, and especially about people who tell you that you will never make it. They’re not important. Finish the thing and try to do your story justice.

–Ilona Andrews

 

Today  is Tuesday, but I am calling it Monday Junior this week. To best explain this, here is a short rundown of my Monday evening:

  • hit same place on head on corner of shelf and corner of dresser, in two separate incidents.
  • found a bug in my crushed pineapple, and remembered, hours later, that this serving had been broken down from a bigger container earlier, so I did at one point eat half a can of pineapple that had a bug in it.
  • decided to make tea to counteract the buggy pineapple, only to have tea infuser open (this may be because the kitchen light was out, we have prewar ceilings and no ladder) and float my last bit of Earl Grey throughout the water. Tea dumped, because now not drinkable.
  • Real Life Romance Hero  washed my mug (into which I had flung aforementioned bug) which I used to make that cup of tea, which had to be dumped out, but I only found out there was still soap in it after I started drinking said tea.

It wasn’t a total waste, as today’s picture evidences. Real Life Romance Hero had received a gift card to a swanky restaurant near our apartment for his birthday a month and a half ago. Yesterday, we finally got a chance to put it into use. Got dressed in real Grownup People Who Eat in Swanky Restaurant Clothes and everything. Food was amazing, atmosphere was perfect, and we had the place to ourselves, so that made for a special afternoon. I went for a walk in the park to ponder over some current writing projects while Real Life Romance Hero watched the news, and came home, expecting a lovely evening of writing.

Insert maniacal laughter here. Normally, a pina colada sundae is the perfect cap to any day. I love pineapple. I love coconut. I love ice cream. Mush them all together, and we should have something special. Add a dead bug (though I suppose dead bug is better than live bug, but not by much) and we have the exact opposite effect. Bleh.Try and follow that up with a soothing cup of tea that fails, not once but twice. Surely, Tuesday has to be better.

i1035 FW1.1

Did I do that?

Well. I will start off by mentioning that Skye kitty puked at my feet while I was making my list of Monday horrors. It was not her first time today. She’s fine; it’s hairball season. This happened at the same time Housemate arrived several hours earlier than we expected her (always good to see her, and it is her house, too, but surprise factor was high) and RLRH, who had been sleeping in, rose at that exact moment, doubling the surprise factor for me, plus cat puke. I am about to give this day a jaunty salute and retreat into Sims 3 and adult coloring books.

Before the cat puke and flinging open of multiple doors at once, my Tuesday so far includes:

  • the two pens I normally keep in my computer bag, for specific purposes, are not in my computer bag, nor are they in my computer sleeve, and I have run out of logical places they could be, which leaves “lost” as the most likely suspect. Not earth-shattering, as they are easily obtained at Dollar Tree, and I am subbing Pilot Varsity fountain pens (there is something about subbing a fountain pen for a dollar store pen, but I am too Mondayed to examine that at present) but still enough to jangle in my current state.
  • Aforementioned festival of doors flinging open, with my opinion asked on a conversation whose topic completely eluded me.
  • New (additional, that is; Critique Partner Vicki is not going anywhere; I love and need  her and she can’t afford the blackmail, so she has to stick around) critique partner not only pinpointed specific issues with project she’s looking at with laser accuracy and helpful suggestions with which I totally agree can make this story So Much Better but also nailed the overall goal I’m going for in my writing, which I had not mentioned to her yet; reclaiming my melodrama, which I love and dearly miss, buried under should and expectations and nonwriting concerns.

This last one is where I’m going to focus, because it’s a good place and an uncomfortable place. It’s good because this is what I want, this getting back in touch with my natural voice and working those writing muscles until they give me some resistance, which is the signal that they are getting stronger. Uncomfortable, because, well, change is uncomfortable. Resistance is uncomfortable. Looking at what we could do better and where we’ve fallen short is uncomfortable. It’s also a necessary step in the journey, and, sometimes, we need to tread that particular path more than once.

So, on a day when I’d hoped to make up for the day before, (though I did get some work done before RLRH and I had our adventure) instead, I’m digging up bones, fleshing out, refining, reexamining, restoring, tearing down and building up until what’s on the page is what’s in my head. My characters deserve that. My readers deserve that. I deserve that. In that perspective, all the crud is worth what it takes to go through, to make the best possible story and the best possible me. Remind me of that when I grumble, okay?

Return of the Robot Revolution

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Today, you’re getting what my computer sees, and Monday morning’s post on Tuesday afternoon, because this has already started to shape up as quite a week. I’ll give you a brief tour. Feel free to grab your own beverage, because I know I need mine.

Monday was jury duty, my first time in NY, though I’d been called more times in CT than anybody I know (in any state, actually.) I was not selected, so you get me this week, after all. I’d meant to get this blog up in the morning, but then I noticed the laundry was three steps away from becoming sentient, so trip to the Laundromat was in order. I like to bring my phone with me so I can stay current on email and do some research or check favorite sites (Spotify, I ❤ you) but that only works if the phone does.

I need to back up here, to Sunday. I’d been in the park, stopped on a bench to check my messages, and the phone went dark. Not what it was meant to do, as I’d left the house with a full charge. Okay, no big deal. Go back home and charge it, only darned thing wouldn’t take a charge. Maybe it’s the charger? I tried Real Life Romance Hero’s charger, tried Housemate’s charger, tried my tablet’s charger, and more, until the grand total was six. Nothing. This warrants trip to the phone store. Not my favorite place, and I was already anxious, so yeah, fun. Phone Dude fiddled with phone, it worked fine, so, okay. Worked fine again on Monday, useful for checking in with Real Life Romance Hero and letting him know how things were going. Worked fine Monday night and most of Tuesday morning.

So, back to Laundromat today, checking mail, and…phone goes dark again. Try to power on or off, nothing. Ahem. I have been this way before. Run phone home (I live kitty corner to the Laundromat) to stick it in charger, grab tablet, back to Laundromat. Head back to phone store after laundry is done, Phone Dude II fiddles with the battery, and all is well. Great. Time for lunch with Housemate. While Housemate is obtaining food, I stake out table in food court, and check my…wait a minute, we just fixed this. Double ahem.

Back to phone store, and deal with Phone Dude III. Phone Dude III could put us in queue for Phone Dude II, who is the one allowed to poke around phone guts, but that would be at least two hours wait. Nope. There is an alternative, Phone Dude IV, a few minutes down the road. Fine. Nothing to lose, so off Housemate and I go. Phone Dude IV agrees to poke around the phone guts. First job: test battery. Battery is fine. That’s good news. Phone, however, seems to be pining for the fjords, so options seem to be A) purchase new phone, or B) send phone back to Phone People, let them fix it and send it back. This decision will be made in a bit, as my to do list tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me there is still writing and critting to be done, so off again.

I’d wanted to have all that work done by this part of the day, not only be starting on it, but I have my list on Habitica, and my party is on a quest, so darned if I am going to be the reason we take any hits. For me, accountability works extremely well, and if the rest of my party is counting on me to do all this stuff, then I am going to do it, no matter how long it takes. Call it dedication or stubbornness or whatever; I know that’s how I’m wired. If I didn’t have a list others could see (at least I think they can see it; I know I can, and what I do contributes to the welfare of the party as a whole) I might say eh, it’s been an aggravating day; I’m curling up under a blankey, making tea and diving into a good book.

That last part, I am doing. Sort of. Review novella installment from collaborator, crit Critique Partner Vicki’s new chapter, and then hit the story points I’ve listed for the projects of the day. So, not an entire loss, and I did get a blog entry out of the deal. Still crabby, though, because I like my phone and I am going to be itchy without it until things are resolved. I am, now, more than ever, convinced that I somehow repel electronics. Maybe they’re allergic to me? Is it because I write historicals? Because I love notebooks more than a sane person should? Be honest, electronics, I can take.it.

Wednesday Night Blabber

annabowling 2 Comments

Some days require a lot of gummi bears. I have some gummi bears. Make of that what you will.

I’ve started this entry multiple times, tried some inspirational quotes, erased them, started again, more times than I am comfortable confessing, but it’s Wednesday, and Wednesday’s post needs to go up, because discipline is important. I need the structure. Without it, I’m going to wander off and spend the entire afternoon rearranging my TBWI crates. That’s To Be Written In, which means notebooks, and yes, I have more than one. If the zombie apocalypse does come, I will be all set when it comes to notebooks, but I will also probably be the one who leads the raiding party on the Moleskine store in NYC. I have my priorities.

:time warp:

7:37 PM

Still Wednesday. That is a good thing. I’ve recently joined Habitica, which combines two of my favorite things: list-making and gaming. I am in serious Sims withdrawal, due to the moribund nature of my old laptop, the inability of new laptop to handle the game, (which is okay, as she was purchased to be a writing machine in the first place) and still planning on a desktop that I can use for gaming. Sims Freeplay is fun on my phone, but it’s not a game-game, and I am feeling the lack. Okay, back to the point. Normally, I would say that some days, the stuff doesn’t come, oh well, go watch Ink Master and give myself a break. Still sound advice, but…I’m in a party, and when we all meet our goals, we all reap the benefits, and when one of us falls behind, we all feel that as well. Or that’s how I understand it. I’m still new. At any rate, being accountable to others gives me the push to knuckle down and get it done. It’s still the same day, I know how to write, so this can still happen.

Real Life Romance Hero texted me from the park during this writing session that wasn’t. I asked him to come hang out. He suggested we play hooky and let the brain free-float, in hopes things will fall into place. It seems to have done the trick. A change in perspective, some filling of the creative well, and we’re back in business. Also, there are fireworks. I do not know why there are fireworks, but I am highly in favor of fireworks I can see from my comfy chair.

Picture above is what my computer sees most days. Me, staring both at the screen and at the story world (for fiction) or into the recesses of my own mind (for nonfiction. Pen in mouth is optional, but earphones are not. Notebook is at hand for the scribbling down of miscellany, making lists and crossing things off as I complete them. Some days, the words come faster than I can get them down, and my fingers tangle, trying to stay current. Other days, like this one, they need to be wooed, with seasonally appropriate beverages, the occasional baked good, a walk in the park, maybe go out for a movie, curl up with a good book, or listen to the same song on repeat for an hour or so. Possibly some abstract doodling.

It’s different every time. Which, in retrospect, is probably a good thing. This may be a late night, and that is okay. I’d rather get things done earlier in the day, but, today, that’s not what happened. Today was a full house day, with errands to run. Tomorrow will have a more normal work schedule for everyone, including myself. In the meantime, adapting is, if not always fun, a challenge. What do I need that I don’t have? Do I not know the characters well enough? Did I hit a historical snag? Is the tone of the piece wrong? Do I need more gummi bears? (Okay, that one is almost always yes.) Maybe I need to go to the movies; not merely watching a DVD, but immersing myself in the whole experience, popcorn and coming attractions and all. Come to think of it, the answer to that one is almost always also yes.

So there we are. still Wednesday, I’ve had time with Real Life Romance Hero, and also with Housemate, devoured dinner, now checking things off my list with Master Chef on the TV and evening emails to answer. Not the best or most profound entry, but, as Real Life Romance Hero reminded me earlier, they can’t all be gold. But they do have to be written. That, I can do.

Typing With Wet Claws: Back to School Edition

annabowling 4 Comments

Hello all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is September now, even though it has been very hot all week, and will still be hot for a few more days. This is not ideal for those of us with built in full length fur coats, but Anty and Uncle assure me that things will cool down after that. I will remember they said that, in case they are wrong. If they are, I will give them baleful looks. I am very good at giving baleful looks. I practice by watching Anty when she is grumpy.

Anty is not grumpy right now, although she has her moments. It is back to school time for young humans, something we cannot ignore, as we live in a neighborhood where lots of almost-grown-up humans live while they go to school. Anty and Uncle met when they were almost-grown-up humans, in a school very far away, in a place called California, where it is summer all year long. I am glad they escaped. Anyway, the start of a new school year does not mean that only students get to learn new things. It is for everybody, as I am learning (see what I did there?) from things that are going on this week.

While Anty loves planning and organizing, sometimes she can get a little too into it and cross the line into micromanaging, which means nothing actually gets done. She is learning now that sometimes, stepping back and seeing where and how things would naturally happen can make planning how they should go, that much easier. Like today. Usually, Anty is all “go, go, go” from the minute she gets up. Wolf down breakfast while checking email and trying to cram too much into one day because things have to get done, pinpoint what she most wants to avoid…whoops, I was not supposed to say that part. Sorry.

Anyway, today is different, and I can take credit for part of that. This morning, I found a new place to pee, while Anty was in the bathroom. If you are new here, I should mention that I was born with special paws, which means I do not climb, which means I do not use a litterbox. I have a pee place, and that is normal for me. I do not often change it, but today, I did. Anty looked all over to see where I had peed, because it was not in my regular spot, but then she did find it. I had peed right in front of the bathroom door, on the linoleum. She said I was a very good girl because that would be easy to clean. While she was doing that, I pooped, also on the linoleum. Suffice it to say this interrupted her planned routine. You are welcome.

Due to that interruption, Anty needed a break. She made some tea and read a chapter in a book. Then she played a game on her phone. Then she started making notes about her day, only this time, she’d had some time to think (and some tea) before deciding what to do, when. Besides writing, we have company coming, so she has some domestic things to do. She has found if she switches off writing and domestic things, she can think about one while doing the other, and it creates a comfortable rhythm, without too much pressure. This goes along with her releasing the stranglehold on how writing should go and finding out how it actually does.

While that is all good for the writing process, it is unsettling for a kitty, because Anty is moving things around. She is even going to move a bookshelf today. I will probably hide, especially because that shelf is going into her office. Her office looks like a tornado hit it right now, but it will be better when things are in the places where they actually go. She will share pictures of it then.

Anty says that is all the time I get to blog today, because she needs the computer now, so 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)

Until next week...

Until next week…

Another Week, Another Journey of Discovery

annabowling Leave a comment

Another Monday begins another week. This one is going to have some logistical challenges, and that’s okay. Still battling the cold sore here, temperatures are going to be hovering near ninety degrees for at least a week (no, the weather does not care that it is practically September) and today is a full house in Stately Bowling Manor, all humans with some degree of crankiness, so this could get interesting. Already, I’ve wrangled with getting a carefully photographed shot up here, which was not working out for some reason, so we adapt. Go with the all purpose Typing With Wet Nails banner, which I love, and on with the show.

Today, I am ensconced in my office, travel mug filled with ice water at the ready, disposable straw stuck in it to minimize contamination. First things first, and today, that’s getting a blog post up before noonish. Any idea of what to talk about? Not yet. Let me consult the scribbled notes on the page from my paper mousepad.

Lists are always good when stuck for something about which to blog (yes, I do have to be grammatically correct; my blog, my rules.)  Top Ten Tuesday, which I only figured out was a thing in the last few days, is tomorrow, though, so that’s probably going to be that, which may do double duty as a unicorn chow post.

There’s the matter of handling a sick day as a writer (hint; it’s like any other day) and the fact that I still haven’t reread any Bertrice Small novels since her passing and the acceptance that I am flat out not ready yet. When I do, it will probably be a single title, though, instead of an installment in one of her series. I did not do a lot of reading this weekend, though I’d planned on it. Instead, I wrote most of the time, which really is relaxing for me, as long as I do it my way, and shut out the shoulds..

What my way is can change from time to time, and it’s by doing a lot of that writing, that I can see the shifts in patterns. Right now, I’m not as concerned with finding one perfect method to get things done, as I am with getting things done and then figuring out how I did them. I am not ready to turn in my plotter hat entirely (the black netting does marvelous things for my complexion) but I have come to accept that I am more of a puzzler. This goes along with something that surprised the heck out of me when I was in college, studying early childhood education (the biggest surprise was that I did not like early childhood education, which is a big part of why I am not doing that right now) While I had always thought I would learn best (and what I was told by pretty much all of the grownups in my life up to that point) was that, because I liked to read and write, that I would learn best by reading. Following written instructions and all that.

Good in theory, but not in practice. What I found out, while supposedly learning how to enlighten very young minds, was that I fit better in what’s known as kinesthetic learning. TLDR version – I learn by doing. Let me get my hands dirty and mess around and in the messing around, I will figure things out. Discovery learning, some  call it, and I like that term. Sitting outside of the story and telling the characters what they are going to do doesn’t work all that well for me, although I spent far too many years trying to make it be so. Darned old shoulds. What works better is knowing who my story people are, and then putting them where they need to be and letting them do what they do.

In a way, it’s like playing Sims (which I really really super miss, as my gaming laptop is making ever faster circles around that metaphorical drain, so I don’t play as often as I’d like.) One of my favorite things to do, besides legacy play (following one family through several generations) is to make an asylum. One dwelling, with specified resources, a certain number of Sims, but I can only control one. The others will pick what to do, depending on the traits they were assigned. Sloppy Sims don’t care if they’re giving off green stink fumes and the house is littered with dirty dishes, where neat Sims will become very unhappy in the same circumstance and ignore their own needs to get those dishes done. Shy or antisocial Sims won’t like being in close quarters with that many other Sims, while outgoing Sims will be thrilled by having all the company and want to talk to everybody, even if their energy is in the red (very very very tired.) Get the drift?

Once I’d figured out that Her Last First Kiss had started in the wrong place, and I dumped the major players in one room and let them do what they do, then things got interesting. My heroine like things planned out and in order, and the story now opens in her most sacred and personal space, into which the hero bursts in with all the force of a tropical storm, drenched to the skin and spreading out papers that are vitally important to him on every even remotely flat surface, while all heroine sees is the huge mess he’s making. Pretty indicative of how things are going to go between these two, and it also solves a quandary I’d had about how heroine is going to come into possession of one particular paper hero really would rather not have anybody, especially her, see. I knew the paper had to get from him to her, but smashing my head against a brick wall trying to figure out how that could happen didn’t work, but letting them do their thing did.

That came about, not in precise typing in any program, but messy, free-form scribbling on a legal pad (which still gives me the willies that it doesn’t have margins, so definitely switching) and it didn’t even feel like work. That was pure play, but darned if it didn’t get all those ducks happily in a row and me knowing exactly what has to happen next. Which means a new scene and POV switch, and, y’know what? I’m fine with that. Onward.

Typing With Wet Claws: Begin as We Mean to Go On Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This week, I have on my metaphorical nurse hat, as Anty is not feeling well. She did not do a video blog this week, although she wanted to, because she got a cold sore the night before she was going to make her video blog. Cold sores are not very pretty, and they make Anty cranky. This is probably because she cannot have tea or pizza or wear lipstick (I have built in permanent lipstick. It is black, which goes nicely with the creamy fur around my mouth. I also have built in eyeliner. Anty says I am lucky that way.) and because she has to replace all lip products that touched her mouth for two weeks before the cold sore. On the plus side, this means she gets to buy new lipsticks, so that is  the good thing in all of this. Anty loves to get new lipsticks.

This is what Cranky Anty looks like. It is fearsome.

This is what Cranky Anty looks like. It is fearsome.

The rest of it is not as fun. It is very bright and sunny today, so Anty has even less energy. She will probably spend more of the day in her nice, dark office or go to the coffee house, which is in a basement and has brick walls. It is also very cool in there on summer days, so it is a plus. Either way, Anty will probably be bringing legal pads, because she is at the legal pad stage of things.

The legal pad stage has begun...

The legal pad stage has begun…

Anty first discovered legal pads while she was helping Uncle, her papa, and her own anty while they were all sick at the same time. She did not always have room in her lap to hold a notebook open, and legal pads fit nicely in her tote bag. Anty likes pretty legal pads. She will use the plain yellow ones if she has to, but the color is not good on her eyes, and plain white is glare-y. She thought neon colors would be too harsh, but with the right pen, they are actually soothing. Paper, in general, is more soothing to Anty than looking at a screen, especially when she is already feeling less than her best.

The day before yesterday, Anty talked to Anty Vicki, her critique partner, on the computer, about how the book was not moving along the way it should (I think it is because there are no cats in it yet, but does she listen to me on this one? No. I do not understand humans sometimes.) Anty Vicki said that it was because the story did not start in the right place.

Anty did not like that answer at first. She already wrote the opening scene. It gets important information out there, introduces the hero’s conflict and his goals and his backstory…and Anty was avoiding it. One thing Anty has learned over her study of her own creative process is that, if she is actively avoiding something, then she knows she has made a wrong turn and does not want to admit it. That is okay, though, because she has friends like Anty Vicki. Anty and Anty Vicki can tell each other when they are not doing the best thing for the story, and not get offended or upset by it. Which is why, when Anty came to Anty Vicki with a sneaking suspicion that the story did not start in the right place, she already knew, deep down, that she was right.

Anty Vicki asked Anty what was going to happen next after that first scene Anty has been avoiding. Anty told her the next scene, and went on for a  while about how that had to happen and it feels like that’s how it should..aha. Anty Vicki knows that when Anty hits a should, what Anty needs to do is punch it in the face (they actually say a different body part that only boys have. Not-fixed boys, that is. I do not know if all shoulds are actually boys, though,  so I will say face.) and do what is best for t he story. This is still a hard lesson to learn, because when Anty has written something, it has been written, and she would like it to stay there and be part of the book. (I told you she was cranky.)

Things do not always work that way, especially for writers who work in layers, like Anty does. Anty Vicki told Anty that no writing is wasted. Yes, Anty did work hard on that scene, and it did happen, but it will come out in a different way. Instead of the readers being there first hand, the hero can tell his version of it when he bursts in on the heroine’s calm, orderly world, while she is having an important conversation with another character. Anty Vicki says this also gets all three sides of the triangle in the same room in the first scene and gets the hero and heroine interacting right away. Anty admits that Anty Vicki is right about that one, so she is now taking the old opening out and putting the new one in. That is going to affect chapters that come after, which is a lot of work, but it is not as much work as avoiding the whole book, so it is okay.

This week, Anty also discovered the Discover Weekly function on Spotify, and found some new songs that she very much likes that way. This one, “Welcome To Wherever You Are,” by Bon Jovi, is going on her Go To Work playlist. She says it is appropriate for what she has learned this week. What do you think?

Anty also gets cranky when I use the computer for too long. I had better give it back to her now. Transcribing the new scene should make her feel better, and we all want her to feel better soon, so that is about it for this week. Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

Until next week...

Until next week…

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

Typing With Wet Claws: Sensitive Topics Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This has not been the most comfortable week around here, on more than one level, but that is okay. Anty said I can tell you all about it, so I will.

First, the weather was not good for anybody. None of the humans like hot weather, and neither do I, because I have a full length fur coat. It is built in, so I wear it all the time. On the other paw, I do have full time bare feet (and four of them) so it balances out. Anyway, this whole week up until today was very hot and very humid, so everybody was cranky. The sun was also very bright. Yesterday, Anty tried to go for a walk to the coffee house so she could write, but it was too bright, so she had to come back home for a little while. That meant she got to spend more time with me. That made it better. Okay, it made it better for me. She fed me.

Uncle has started taking pictures of the places I flop when it is too hot. He puts some of them on Facebook so that Anty can see where I flop when she is not at home. The humans have started calling me Speedbump  when I flop in the hallway. It is not my fault. The linoleum is cool, there are no windows, and it is nice and dark there. Frankly, I do not understand why the humans do not flop there when the weather is that oppressive.

Sometimes, Anty puts ice cubes in my water bowls (I have two of them) but I do not lick them, like she says other cats do. I look at them funny and wait for them to melt. I have water bowls, not ice bowls. Anty is silly. I think the sun and heat have got to her brain. That is not good, because she needs her brain for writing.

This week, Anty had her first article published on XOJane.com. That is a website for humans to read about a lot of different things, from clothes and makeup to relationships and interesting things that happen to humans. That is where Anty came in. This next part may be hard for some readers, so it is okay if you do not want to read much further or click on the link.

Before Anty’s papa went to Rainbow Bridge, he was very sick, and he could not do everything that he wanted to do when he was healthy. That meant that other people had to help him, while he was sic and after he went to Rainbow Bridge.  Anty wrote about that in her article. It is here and it looks like this:

Not for gentle readers

Not for gentle readers

Most people who commented on the article said kind things, that they were sad Anty had to go through that, or that they were going through a similar experience. Some said that this helped them make some choices or talk to people they loved about making things easier. Those comments made Anty happy. One person, and probably other people, who did not comment, had a different opinion.

That person ( and probably others who did not comment) thought that Anty should not have written this article, and that she should not have used her real name when she did. Anty can see where that person is coming from, and she did put a lot of thought into what to write and whether she should use her name or not. Anty’s intent was to help other people going through something similar. Sensitive topics like this are not pleasant, but they are part of life.

Anty finds the whole spectrum of life very interesting, and she likes to have that in her fiction as well as her personal experiences. Uncomfortable parts of life are still part of life. Take me, for example. I was born in the wild, so I did not learn how to cuddle or play. Some bad things happened to me before the shelter people rescued me (I got hit by a car, and shelter people took me to the vet) and Mama and Anty found me and brought me home. I was very scared and did not know how to be a pet, but Mama, Anty and Uncle were gentle and patient with me. Now I am a pet. I have a happy tail. I love to play with crumpled Post-Its. I get treat in my purple bowl, and I get to take naps in sunbeams. Everything turned out pretty good, but I did not know that would be the case before I got rescued. It is still part of who I am, and I cannot change it.

It is like that with Anty’s characters. They make mistakes, and they have been through some things that are not entirely happy or nice, but they still get to find somebody who loves them and get a forever home by the end of the book. No matter how hard the road may be to a happily ever after in a romance novel (and it can get pretty hard in Anty’s) it always ends in a good place. I think that is a very good thing. If we are going through difficult times, that means we are in the middle of the story.

Speaking of the middle of the story, Anty needs the computer back because it is writing time, so 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)

Until next week...

Until next week…

How Did We Get Here?

annabowling 2 Comments

Still technically morning,as it’s ten minutes to Skye’s treat (aka noon) so, technically, I am posting on time. Besides posting on the scheduled days, I’m giving myself the added goal of posting in the morning, when my brain is the freshest. If, that is, any brain can be fresh during a streak of humid, hot weather. I was not made for summer. Whatever whichever distant biological ancestor of mine did, back in merry olde England or Ireland (my birth mother’s last name puts her ancestry at southwest England or County Cork, most likely, and that name is very common in a part of Virginia where convicts were transported, so I think drawing conclusions is not that much of a stretch) to get booted from the British Isles to American shores (and the south, no less) I hope it was worth it.  Not that they likely had any say in the matter, unless it was a choice between transportation or hanging.

Maybe I’m reading it wrong. Maybe they worked hard, bought a ticket to a new life and were happy to make the change. Maybe it was a long haul of indentured servitude before they got freedom, a change of clothes and a mule. (Yay, colonial research, I use you yet again.) Who can tell? Since I was adopted at birth and don’t know any of my biological relatives, I’m probably not going to know, so I can fill in the blanks at my leisure. To this day, I remember the lovely white-haired Virginian gal at our church back in the old country, throwing her head back and laughing when I told her the name of the hospital on my birth certificate. “Oh, honey, that’s redneck country. You’re white trash.”  Lovely gal was part of an adoption triad of her own, and we had a long, illuminating conversation that day about what it was like to be where the other one was, searching and not searching, and coming to terms with some questions not having answers. I laughed, too, not because any group of people are intrinsically funny (except for comedians; they kind of have to be) but because that answer felt right.

It’s not a concrete answer, not a specific, but it’s close enough. I’ll take it. Going from rural Virginia to a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan at the age of three days must have given me a taste for adventure at a very early age. Moving, at the age of nine months, (okay, my parents were the ones who actually did the moving; I pretty much lay there the whole time) to a town steeped in colonial and Revolutionary history (oldest Catholic church in NY state, oldest burial ground, British burned the town to the ground but for one lone house, stone walls built by Dutch settlers and still in use, thankyouverymuch, library that was where John Jay’s kids went to school, etc) must have imprinted a love of the eighteenth century in me, so I’m not surprised that it’s turning out to be my default setting when writing fiction these days. I can live with that.

Ugh. Brain drifting, which is normal in August humidity, but I kind of need my brain for all that writing stuff. Putting a book together requires brain cells. It also requires notebooks and legal pads and Spotify and inhaling other books and period dramas, and the occasional ice cream soda (replace with hot cocoa in winter, thanks) and a mountain of gummi bears (Swedish fish also acceptable and possibly more conducive if writing a Viking story. I am not currently writing a Viking story, but that would be really cool someday.) Add in a thousand other things, as I am a magpie, and collect various bits of shiny to add to my stash until it all comes together in something that actually looks storyish.

The last couple of days, I inhaled the realm of possibility (sic) by David Levithan. and am nursing a serious book hangover. The depth of emotion, the brilliant beauty of language, the voices of twenty different students at the same school, telling one cohesive story that asks the readers to do some filling in of blanks – :happy sigh: I want to hit the snooze alarm on this one, spend five more minuteshoursdaysyearscenturiesmillenia there, and see what I can take away and put into my own work. It will be something different when put through my own filters, but that’s what it’s meant to do.

I was going to say something here about writing being a sort of alchemy, but then my brain drifted off, and my time for blogging today is done so I am going to leave it at that. My characters need me, and it’s really not in my best interests to leave them unattended on days like this.

Typing With Wet Claws: Historical Versimilitude Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Things are taking a definite swing toward fall this week. The sidewalk part of the construction is finished in front of our house, so it is not quite as noisy and the floor does not shake as much. Anty is very happy that there is actual sidewalk now, so she can wear heels when she leaves the house if she wants to, without risking ankle death. Construction is not completely done, as they still have a giant pit in front of the house next door, and we still have new trees to be put in where the old trees used to be. New trees means birdies will come back. I love watching birdies in the morning, so I am excited about that.

Anty does have a funny story about the day they poured the cement, and she said I can tell it, because it is really about me. Uncle was home until dinnertime that day, so Anty went to write at the coffee house. When left the house, she noticed that there were big mesh things laid out in a grid pattern on the gravel in front of our door. That told her they were probably going to pour the cement soon. She did not know how soon, because, when she got home a couple of hours later, there were men in big rubber boots almost to their knees, spreading the cement around. I should mention again that I am an indoor kitty, and Uncle had already left for work.

Anty was very concerned about being able to get in and take care of me. There was cement everywhere, and the workers were not happy about having to find a way for her to get across. One of them asked if she could please use the back door (I do not think he said please.) Anty said that she could, but she would have to go into the back yard (it is really tiny, because we live in a city) to get to the back door and the gate to the back yard is right next to the porch, so she would have to get across the wet cement sea anyway. The workers grumbled about having to put boards across it, but then she said the magic words. She had to get inside and feed the kitty (I am that kitty.)

Well. The workers put two boards up, side by side, and let her hold their hands so she could keep her balance as she walked across them. Anty thanked them and came inside. I got my meal (it was cat food, which is my favorite) and Anty got some more writing done. I love a story with a happy ending.

So does Anty, which is why she writes romance. She started reading romance when she was still a person kitten, only eleven. That first book was The Kadin, by Bertrice Small, and she knew right away that she had found what she wanted to read and write for the rest of her life. She says so far, so good. Anty may give the humans in her books a lot of problems, but, because it is romance, she fixes them by the end. Reading romance novels written by other humans is something that Anty loves  do, but has not had a lot of time for this summer, but now it is almost fall, so she is looking at reading more romances, especially historical ones.

Anty says recommendations are welcome...

Anty says recommendations are welcome…

Some humans like their historical romances to be what they call ‘wallpaper.’ This term confused me at first, because I thought it meant that they took the pages out of their books and covered their walls with them. I guess that is one way to go, but that is not what it means. A ‘wallpaper’ historical romance means that there is very little detail given about the period in which the book is set, only enough to give some flavor. Anty does not do that.

For Anty, the best books to read, and the ones she likes to write, are the ones where the historical world and the romance are intricately intertwined and one could not be the same without the other. This does not mean that she writes about humans who actually lived in those other times, but things those humans do did affect the people around them, including the ones who live in Anty’s head. She wants to know what it is like to slip inside the world in which her story people would have lived, and see the world the way they would have seen it.

Since Anty has not, to my knowledge, mastered time travel (but Uncle says it is okay if she gets in a blue police box if it comes) this means she has to find other ways to know these things. Some humans like reading books (that are not fiction) to learn more, and Anty does that to some extent, but what she likes to do the most is get hands on experience. Living history museums and historical reenactments are her favorites, as she can pick up on details that books may miss. She likes to know for herself what a shipyard smells like, for example, or how heavy a musket is in her hands. She once talked a blacksmith into letting her come right up to the forge, which most guests do not get to do, but Anty has special writer powers. Watching period dramas is also good, because watching people move around in the clothing of a different time tells her more than looking at a still picture, even though portraits from a particular era are the most reliable source of how clothes actually looked. She also is quick to point out that, while things like white wigs and high heels on men look funny to modern people, in the times they were worn, those things were hot stuff, so her book people would probably like them. Then again, it all depends on the characters.

Anty is now making throat clearing noises, which means that has to be about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…