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Theoretical Schoolbusses

annabowling 1 Comment

“Hard is trying to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, with no instruction book, and no clue as to where all the important bits are supposed to go.”
― Nick Hornby, A Long Way Down

Sometimes, I feel like there’s a bus. A schoolbus, more specifically, one of those long yellow ones that roll from September to June, look bright against the greys of a rainy day and fit in with the explosion of red, yellow, orange and brown on bright autumn afternoons. The bus is one of those. In pretty good condition, I’ll allow, with the seats inside clean black leatherette or pebbly vynil or whatever else they might be made from these days. It’s been a while since I’ve been on an actual schoolbus. This is a theoretical schoolbus, you see, because I am going to tell you a story.

Kind of. this is one of those loopy, off-leash days, where I am going to get some kind of structure from the loopiness, and blogging and discipline and yeah yeah yeah, working on book, put the pizza outside the door and slowly back away, please and thank you. Still with me? Okay, good. So, there’s a theoretical schoolbus. It came by my dad’s house lo those many years ago, when frustrtated extroverted writer me was stuck out in the no man’s land between suburbs and rural area (seriously, the neighbor behind that house was a dairy farm, yet the town also had a private school, and I’m drifting. This is what comes from too much caffiene and not enough structure. Focus, Anna.) and it picked me up on the day when I decided that was it; I was going to write that book.

I had no idea what I was doing; I wasn’t in RWA yet, didn’t know any other writers in person, apart from a dear family friend, who was very kind with my rambles and questions. I had one writer friend with whom I bonded through snail mail, and my heart hammered against my ribs as though it was trying to bust out. Looking back, I think it probably was. So, I set up three TV trays around the living room chair that reminds me still of the captain’s chair in Star Trek: The Next Generation (chair long gone, but I remember it clearly) put a vynil record (cast recording of Camelot) on the record player, programmed (this was a fancy-for-its-time player) and dove in, armed with a fierce love of historical romance and the need to do this thing. As I said, I had no idea what I was doing. That was probably a good thing, because that let me scamper at will, off-leash, higgledy-piggledy, wherever the story took me that day.

Do I remember which of two possible books I was working on that day? Nope. They kind of blend, and I can’t say I’m not mixing some memories here, but that’s an occupational hazard for us ficiton writers, and not always a bad thing. Anyway, let’s say I wrote one book (that now lives safely in a storage unit, where it can’t hurt anybody) and after I knew that one had to be put aside, wrote …hmm…a pretty good deal of another. How many of us remember every stop our school bus made on the trip to school and back, lo these many years later? Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I rode that bus. I learned. I made mistakes, fell down, got up, dressed bruises, kept going. Knew when to walk away from a book that wasn’t going to work, figured out what I can do and what I can’t. You know, the usual. Fast forward a few years. Sold a book. Sold another. RWA. Critique partners. Groups. More writing.

Then the bus dropped me back off. Huh wuh? :blinks: :looks around in utter confusion: What the heck was I doing back in front of the metaphorical house in the middle of a metaphorical school day? Detour to full time caregiving, and then, as it usually does, another bus, bright yellow against the grey, came chugging down the road once more. Flashed lights. Stopped in front of my house, now several years and a different state away from the first one. Opened the doors. I put one foot on one step, hoisted the backpack I’d been scared to look into onto my shoulder and climbed aboard.

My magpie self is still devouring inspiration, its appetite that of a starving creature. Cover versions of songs I know, done by singers who take a completely different take on an old favorite, realistic YA novels that deal with mental illness and suicide (n.b. – I have so far started two of my published works with characters about to take their own lives; I did not plan that, nor are the two stories in any way related. Points to anybody who knows which two.) endless searching for desktop wallpapers with the right visual feel, going on movie binges where the connections between movies make no sense to anybody but me, analyzing favorite fannish OTPs (One True Pairings) to see if I can spot patterns, making lonnng lists of reading jags to go on once I’ve finished this current reading jag. That’s for a start. It does feel like I’m taking myself to school, and, like a dog following a scent trail, I don’t know exactly where this is going to end up, but I do know that it’s taking me where I want to go.

Typing With Wet Claws: Evening Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for a slightly later than usual Feline Friday. Anty has had a very full day today. She and Mama went to the computer store to pick up the new tablet. There will be pictures of it later. It really does look like a cat-sized computer, and it is pink, like my tongue. I think Anty did get me my own computer. The keys on the keyboard (which is also pink) are very tiny. Small for human hands, but the right size for kitty fingers.  I think this means that she wants me to blog more. I can do that.

Uncle is still getting better. He does not smell all the way healthy yet, but Anty hopes that he will , soon. They gave him some very good pills at the people vet, and she does not have to hold his mouth open to make him take them. When I have to take pills (that is hardly ever now, but when I first got rescued by the shelter people, I had to take a lot of them, because I was born wild) I usually get liquid the humans can squirt in my mouth. Maybe Uncle should try that. As it is now, he is getting a lot of rest. I like to be under the bed and send him love beams.

Anty is still figuring out how to use her tablet (she can call it that, but I know it is really my computer) and is trying hard not to say bad words when she makes a mistake. She has made a few mistakes. There is a user’s manual (also kitty sized, but it is not written in Kitty. It is written in English) but Anty has not read it very closely. Anty prefers to learn by doing, even if that means making mistakes along the way. When she makes a mistake, she knows she should not do that thing again and will try something else. Sometimes, this takes her a while, but she gets where she needs to be in the end. This may take her longer than she thought to get my computer set up, but I am patient. I will wait.

i1035 FW1.1

Anty does not have to wait very long for her tea when she goes to write at the coffee house, which is a good thing. Today, she did have to wait a lot while the computer got started, and then again when Word would not load and then Scrivener would not load. I do not know if Anty said any bad words or not, but I do know that she took out a notebook and wrote with a pen until Scrivener came around. Anty can be very determined like that. I think she deserved her people treat for that.

this is a people treat

this is a people treat

Anty has been so busy this week, that she did not get a chance to share the duck pictures she took on the way to visit Uncle at the people vet. She thinks there will be baby ducks in about three weeks. I do not think ducks fly near our house very much, but I do watch other kinds of birds through the window, so that is all right.

Mallards!

Mallards

There is another duck that lives in our kitchen. He does not fly, though. He helps with the dishes. Okay, he is not a real duck like the mallards but Anty likes rubber ducks, so she had to have him. Please ignore the work he has not yet done in the background.

not a real duck

not a real duck

Next Feline Friday, Anty will be at the NECRWA conference. I will not be going, because I am a kitty, but Anty is excited to be among others of her own kind. I think I will be nice and let her take my computer with her, because it is easier for her to carry than this one. If any readers will be there, let Anty know. She would love to say hello and talk about books.

writer at work

writer at work

Even with the extra things that have happened this week, Anty still likes to spend time in her story world. When the life in the really real world gets crazy, it can be relaxing to go into the story world, where things go (usually) the way Anty wants them to (but not always, because sometimes, characters have minds of their own) even if things are even crazier in there for the story people. Never mind the occasional evil cackle or heartwrenching sob from Anty. She writes romance, so all will be well in the end.

Speaking of writing, Anty reminds me that she still has some to do, so I will wrap this up for now, but now that I have my own computer, I may be blogging more often.

Until next time, I remain, very truly yours,

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

Typing With Wet Claws: Special Caregiving Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, filling in for Anty, because she is busy taking care of Uncle. He had to go to the people vet on Tuesday. I can only imagine how difficult it was getting him in the carrier. When I have to go in the carrier, it takes Mama and Anty both to get me in there, because I know what is coming and I want to hide. One of them will turn the carrier up on its end and the other one chases me around until they can catch me and put me in headfirst. Human carriers are huge (and noisy) and Uncle is also big, so this cannot be an easy task. Maybe Anty could throw a hamburger or a bottle of Coke in there to see if he will go in on his own first.

Uncle had to stay at the people vet overnight, which I did not like. First, because he was not here, and second, because Anty smelled really really tired. She does not do her bet writing when she is very very tired (although she was rather proud of filling the last pages of her white pocket Moleskine notebook while waiting at the people vet with Uncle and thus got to start a new pocket sized book) and there is not a lot of time when there are sick-people things to do. The people vets said Uncle could come home on Wednesday, so Anty had to go help get him back in the carrier and get him back home. There were new pills to help him get better (people flu is not a good thing) and, although I was concerned that he might have to wear the cone of shame, thankfully, he did not. Maybe that is because he did not need any stitches. Flu generally does not require a lot of stitches, at least as far as I can tell. It does, however, require him to get a lot of sleep. This does not, however, translate to a lot of sleep for Anty.

It also makes Anty cranky because the library book she was reading and is almost done with is in the bedroom, and she does not want to wake Uncle by opening the door to get her book. I must make a confession here; I would try to get in if she did open the door, and I would not make any noise, so she would not know I was there. I would be happy to be near Uncle, but not happy to be away from my water bowl (that is in another room) or my food bowl (in the same room as the water bowl; they are neighbors.) I do not have to mention poop, because we are all adults here. At least, I assume that we are. Anty would figure out, when she looked up from her glowy box (or maybe when she realized her inspiration is much lower than usual, due to the absence of her mews) that I was in there, and she would have to open the door again. That would not be good for anybody, except for me, because then I would get food.

Anty (and sometimes Mama) has been doing a lot of getting food lately. She needs to get food Uncle will eat, and then she will remember she hasn’t eaten, and does not feel like cooking, so that is time to go find some food that is already made. Thankfully, there are a lot of places to buy already-made people food around here. That is a good thing.

It may seem that there is not a lot of time for writing in the middle of all the extra work that comes with taking care of a sick human, even without a cone of shame, but that is not true. Anty finds going into her story worlds is not an escape exactly (she does have to come back; the other stuff is still there when she comes back from story world) but a respite, and puts her in a better mood so that she can better do what needs to be done. This is one of the reasons why she carries around multiple notebooks at one time, but not the only one.

That is the thing about some writers (or maybe just Anty; I know some other writers, but not all of them) – even when life outside of writing gets crazy, they cannot turn off the voices in their heads. Anty does not mind this. It is nice to have company like that. The fact that these people live in her head does not mean they are not real. They still have lives to live, and sometimes, they will drop a tidbit on her while she is doing other things, for her to write down now and explore later. Anty does not mind this, because it keeps an oar in the water, as she puts it, no matter what else is going on. For now, she is spending time with notebooks and on her glowy box while Uncle is sleeping. It keeps her from getting lonely, and, of course, she has me.

It is her turn for the glowy box again, so I will give it back to her. Tomorrow, she should be picking up her new tablet, which I think does look like a cat-sized computer. I am still not convinced she is not really getting me my own computer. I will keep you posted, and see you all tomorrow for our regular blog.

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

See you Friday....

See you Friday….

I Have No Idea, or, Roadmaps

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“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”
– Arthur Ashe

Not ideas, because I am not O  at a loss for any of those. I have index card files, seriously, so I am not going to run out any time soon. Not every idea is going to be written, but each one of them has something in there that I can use in some form. Even if what I glean from that is “never pitch a book idea you pulled out of your :ahem: self after not sleeping for three days straight because the pitch session just took an awkward turn. Not that that ever happened to anybody I know. :cough: But ideas, yes, lots of those.

What I’m talking about here is those days when I have no idea what I’m doing. I hate those. People who know me know that I’m a planner. I like to know what is going to happen, when, not to mention how. I love to-do lists, and the only think I like better than listing tasks is crossing them off. Maybe prioritizing, because that’s actually fun, especially if I get to play with highlighters.

Life, especially the writing life, doesn’t always work that day. Sometimes, the nonwriting life takes a good long look at a writer and says, “Writer, you are now officially my puching bag.” Whompity whompity whomp. Nonwriting life can have a mean left hook. Domestic tornado chains whip through what should be a fairly productive writing day. Sick family members, financial hiccups, domestic duties that require immediate attention, lest the universe implode, and the like are not going to take a break because we’re making good time on the work in progress, or a blog post due.

Which is where today’s ramble comes in. Yesterday had its challenges, and there was no way on earth I was going to give up my time with Her Last First Kiss, so Monday’s post got moved to Tuesday. I probably had some vague notion (or maybe a not so vague one) about what I wanted to cover in this blog post. Something about notebooks, maybe? A Camp NaNo update? How much fun it is to be splashing around in the shallows of a new book, and then, without meaning to, diving down deep and finding ohhhhhh, that’s why that thing was in that scene. I may not have known what I was doing at the time my hero picked up a china dog in a shop (and a scene I didn’t plan), as a gift for the heroine, but he did, and that’s what matters. He knew she would like it, even if I had no earthly idea, bu a few chapters later, when she finally admits a Deep Secret she will only trust to him, it all makes sense.

i1035 FW1.1

We’ve been in our current home for about two and a half years now, Real Life Romance Hero and Housemate and Skye and I , and only recently did I finally get around to employing an arty idea I’d had while apartment hunting. I’ve tried scrapbooking, and it’s really not for me, but I love mixed media art, and anything even remotely notebook-related. About a week or so ago, I took out the map we’d used in finding our home, so that I could memorialize the search with art. I covered the cardboard box that my new computer cord came in with part of that map, and now use it to store pens and a small notebook. Easily portable, unique and personal. It reminds me of the writing desk the hero of Her Last First Kiss counts as his most prized posession. His is wood, not cardboard, far more durable than what I have, and he sure as anything wouldn’t have made it himself (carpentry is not his thing) but the connection, that’s there, and it’s strong. Through all of his travels, my hero counts his writing desk as his true home, and I can relate to that.

Today has been one of those punching bag days. Yesterday was another. This post exists because I don’t like having to push back Wednesday’s post because I haven’t yet done Monday’s post, and because posting is one thing I can control when nonwriting life starts lobbing stuff at me. Sit down at the keyboard and blabber about writing? I can do that. I may not know the exact topic when I set out on the journey, but that’s okay. I know how to write. I’ll get there.

So it is with the art and discipline of writing a book. It’s been a while since I’ve had a hero and heroine talk to me this clearly ( things,perhaps, only other writers will understand) amd I am not going to squander that. Maybe I don’t know where we’re going for a particular session, but I trust them. I trust that I know how to write a book. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. I am doing it now. Sometimes, we need to make the maps while we explore, then follow them later.

Typing With Wet Claws: Evening Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for a slightly later than usual Feline Friday. This is the very first thing being written with Anty’s new keyboard, because the old one died for real. She and Mama went to the computer store to get this one, which will make life much better for everybody involved. Mama said that if she had to share her computer with Uncle and Anty, she would never see her computer again. That would make Mama very sad. Everybody is much happier now that Anty can use her own computer again. We are all waiting for the computer store to tell Anty she can come and get her new tablet. That should not be too much longer. Mama thought that maybe the computer store might have gotten the tablet in and tried to tell Mama it was there, only she could not ge that message because she was not on her computer at the moment. It was not there yet, but it will be there, soon. Once Anty gets her tablet, then she will be able to write and do research in a lot more places. She will be less grumpy, and that is a good thing.

Anty was very grumpy this week, because both Uncle and Mama were sick at the same time. Then Mama got better, but Uncle was still sick. Then Uncle got better, but his hunting schedule changed. I was very happy to have him home during the day more, but by the way Anty whimpered and twitched after a few days of thinking one more day and then she could have the house to herself (and me) that might have just been me. Anty loves Uncle, but the house is where she works, and the way she has been at this book, she wants to be working a lot.

That is not easy when the computer keyboard dies, and the keyboard built into the computer does not have an H key. There are H’s in a lot of words Anty uses when she writes. Him, her, he, she, them, they, the, and a lot of other words, like hold (I do not like to be held, so I do not mind when she cannot use that word.) There are no H’s in cat or kitty or Maine Coon, so she could have written about me instead and probably have had a lot less stress. She is a romance writer, though, and I am fixed, so I kind of see her point.

Moving along. A couple of nights ago, Uncle came home from work and asked Anty if she would like to go and have dinner with only him. I had special time with Mama. She ate pizza and I ate cat food. Uncle and Anty had Chinese food and said that I could share pictures of their dinner.

i1035 FW1.1

People food

This is all people food, so I do not know what it tastes like, but Anty and Uncle said it was very good, there was a lot of it, and they brought some home. Uncle said it would not rain while they were out, but Anty remembered how, on their second date, he told her the sprinklers would not go off on them, but they did. She brought an umbrella. It rained.

This week, Anty took care of our family a lot. I was only trying to help her when I started to eat my own throwup, but she wanted to take care of the cleanup herself. I do not mind too much. Food does not taste as good the second time around.

Writing on the glowy box, without the letter H, is not the easiest thing in the world (although I think typing with paws is harder) but Anty is not dissuaded. When she is between external keyboards, she uses an asterisk (it looks like this: *) to represent the letter H, and keeps on going. Some of the people she emails think this is funny and others think it is extra work to have to translate all the *’s to H’s. For those people, Anty suggests cutting and pasting into Word, then doing a search and replace.

That is what she is going to do with the pages she wrote yesterday. She did not think she was going to be able to do much, but then Anty SueAnn asked if she wanted to do virtual sprints, and Anty said yes. Then they both wrote as fast as they could (Anty can still type pretty fast when using an * instead of an H) and Anty got into the story. There are a lot of *’s, but now she can make them H’s again. That will be very helpful. The new keyboard has all of its letters and all of its keys. We will see how long that lasts.

Time for me to give Anty her shot at the new keyboard, so I will see you next week, unless she needs me to blog for her sooner. One never knows. She has the conference to prepare for, Camp NaNo to keep up with and the tablet could be here any time now. I’m pretty sure it’s cat.-sized, and it does have its own keyboard. Plus, I need to prepare for my interview with Anty SueAnn’s pet, Bailey.

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Typing With Wet Claws: Special Easter Monday Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for a special Monday edition of Typing With Wet Claws. I am blogging for Anty today because she is taking a mental health day. So far today, she has cleaned throwup twice (only one was mine, but I did try to eat it again. She would not let me.) and poop once (that was mine, but I did not try to eat it) and both Mama and Uncle are at home when they were meant to be at work. Mama is resting now, to get over her tummy bug,  and Uncle got his shift changed, so that pretty  much took care of Anty’s plans to have a productive day of writing at home.

That does not mean that she will not have a productive day, or that she will not write. Anty has a lot of notebooks, and is even now deciding which ones (plural) she will take with her when she heads outfor the day. She does not have a plan at this point, and I must admit her occasional cackles give me some pause (I already have paws. Four of them.) because that is not a sound I her very often, but Uncle convinced her that it will be best for everybody if she heads out for a while. Uncle likes to putter, which is not always compatible with Anty writing in the living room. Her other plan today was to work on organizing the office while listening to Paper Towns, but that would be too noisy, as the office shares a wall with her and Uncle’s bedroom.

Anty calls days like this well-filling days. That means she needs to take in new things so that she will have more to draw from when she writes. I have seen  her try to write when she does not take in enough, and it is not a pretty sight. This day away from the keyboard (well, mostly. I know my Anty.) will be good for everybody. She mentioned something about going to the park to look for ducks, and I did see her putting her camera in her big purse. The computer is probably staying home today, unless she comes back to get it and write at the coffee house, which she might do.

Normally, Anty likes to have a plan for her days. She will make a list of things that need to be done on a given day, usually over breakfast, and pick which one is the most important, then do that one first. Then she picks the next most important, and so on. Sometimes, things get carried over to the next day, but a day without plans does not happen all that often, especially on her own. Today, though, it is necessary, not only for staying away from sick and/or cranky people, but making sure she does not become one of them herself.

Schroedinger's bunny?

Schroedinger’s bunny?

In other news, yesterday was Easter, which means Anty gave Uncle an Easter basket. The foil wrapped chocolate bunny is important. Anty learned that the hard way, after we had to hand off at least four (I could not count higher than that, since I was counting on my paws) naked chocolate bunnies from the freezer to our former downstairs neighbor when we moved. Uncle does not like unwrapped bunnies, and Anty does not care for chocolate that much, but didn’t want to throw away perfectly good food items, so they lived in the freezer. Some of them, for a very long time.

Every basket also has to have a stuffed animal. This year, it was Cadbury Bunny. Very nice of him to come wearing a name tag, and he brought snacks. Anty and Uncle put him on the floor so that I could meet him (they are very good with that) but I am confused. This bunny talks. He makes chicken sounds. He does not move, but he does talk, and I am not sure if he is alive or not. Still figuring that one out, but Anty and Uncle seem to like him a lot, so I will follow their lead.

That ends this special entry. I will see you all on Friday, so until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

See you Friday....

See you Friday….

Typing With Wet Claws: Nurse Kitty Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all, Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Very exhausting week to be a kitty around here. Anty was sick, the glowy boxes staged a revolt, and all three humans were at home yesterday. Well, Anty and Mama went out hunting, so that was not everybody all day, but it is difficult for one kitty to be in so many places at once.

One of the most important kitty duties is nursing. Anty does not get sick very often, which is a good thing, but when she does, I am there. This week, Anty only thought she was tired after she got back from the critique group, but then she was hot and cold at the same time, and things ached that should not be aching, and Uncle had to be the one to break it to her. She was sick. Anty does not like being sick, because she does not like “doing nothing” as she puts it. That makes her grumpy. Really, the best thing for the other humans to do in times like that is to give her some books and some movies and make sure she has lots of liquids.

Food, beautiful food

Food, beautiful food.

She did not want food for a couple of days (I cannot imagine how horrble that must be. I always want food. Can I have some food now? I am very cute, if that influences your answer any.) but she has her appetite back now, which is a very good thing. I heard her and Uncle talking about dinner tonight (theirs, not mine, but I will assume my dinner was implied. I would like fish jelly, please.) and they seemed happy about that. She is also putting on real people clothes and even makeup, so I know she is better. This does also mean that she will be leaving the house again to go hunt (I assume she is hunting; why else would she leave a comfortable house with a kitty in it?) and do laundry. There was not a lot of laundry last time, because she only had pajamas on for most of the week, but there was still laundry. Ever since she found out how she can send her manuscripts to her Kindle, she has been taking those along and reading her own work as though she were the reader and not the writer. She says that gives a different perspective and likes to take notes on anything that stands out.

I helped her rest by sitting very very very close to her recliner and sending love beams in her direction. She says that helped a lot. I also helped her watch some movies. We liked The Perks of Being a Wallflower, although it did not have any kitties in it. It had friends and a love story, though, and Anty likes movies with those things in them. Also angst. There was a lot of angst. Angst makes Anty happy. This is not as alarming as it sounds. These sorts of things are perfectly normal for writers. She is open to suggestions for other movies with the same feel. She has already seen The Fault in Our Stars, and liked that one, and is looking forward to Paper Towns. She is listening to the book of that on her mp3 player right now. Well, maybe not right now. I do not know when you are reading this, so she may be listening to something else. Probably one of her story soundtracks, because she is back to writing. That is a big relief. She is cranky when she is not writing.

It is a good thing that Anty loves notebooks. Yesterday, Mama suggested that, since the computer power cords come in two peices, maybe switching the peices around would help them hold a charge. Anty tried that, and Mama is right. Anty now calls these “Frankencords,” and they hold a steady charge, where the other ones did not. New cords are on the way, and may be here as soon as tomorrow. That will make everybody happy. I heard Anty and Uncle talking about a tablet. I got worried for a minute, but it is all right. They do not mean they want to give me a tablet, and they do not mean the pill kind, anyway. The best I can tell, it is a very small glowy box. Maybe even kitty sized. It is hard to tell from the picture on the glowy box. Hm. Maybe they do want to give me a tablet, but the glowy box kind, not the kind the vet dispenses. Either that, or Anty wants to carry a really small glowy box instead of packing up the laptop every time she goes to the coffee house to write.

Speaking of writing, Anty has a new post up on Heroes and Heartbreakers, on the season finale of The Mindy Project. It is here and looks like this:

DANDY
Anty and Uncle get grumbly sometimes about season finales in March. When they were younger, TV seasons went from September to June and that was that. It is much more complicated these days. Personally, I like watching birds through the window. There are no commercials there, but sometimes trucks and busses with ads on them drive by. I guess that is kind of the same thing.

Well, it is that time again. Anty needs the glowy box so she can write, and it really is my lunchtime, 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…

Electronic Ragnarok

annabowling 4 Comments

The robot uprising has begun, at least in my house. It started some months back, with the old printer stubbornly insisting it had a paper jam, though taking the back off and inspecting the are in question reveals that it absolutely does not. Barring some miniscule scrap stuck deep in the gears, we’re stumped. Still, the darned thing insists it’s jammed, and more puzzlingly, Will Not Turn Off, so yanking the plug is the only solution. There is a lovely new printer standing by, which is not compatible with the extant coputers, but a solution to that is on the way in the near future, so we manage.

There is, of course, a sizeable graveyard of headphones and earbuds who gave their lives for good cause, and the debate over “let’s buy a bunch of the inexpensive ones so we have new ones when the old ones die” versus “if we spend the same amount of money on one pair of good ones, they won’t die all the time and won’t need to be replaced” can go on long enough that one party may consider reading the entire text of the Outlander saga merely to keep the filibuster going long enough for another party to consult pricing information to bolster the argument. My mp3 player is not, after all, compatible wiht my music streatming system of choice, and my laptop has decided that it and audiobooks are no longer on speaking terms. Neccessary losses, those, and while some, particularly the purple earbuds with the skulls on them, are missed, we know these things are going to happen.

I don’t remember how long ago it was that Real Life Romance Hero’s ancient desktop finally gave up the ghost, but it wasn’t pretty. We slid in the lovely silver laptop a friend had passed on to us shortly before our move. Of a slightly earlier vintage than the laptops Housemate and I use (those two being identical twins) that machine served him well, until last week, when, by his reports, it took thirty minutes to accomplish what the other computers could accomplish in two. This is not what we want. Set that machine aside, confer with Housemate to create a tmeshare arrangement on her computer, and then…

Then the power cord on her computer stops working. When I say stops working, I mean that even though we can darned well see it plugged in, the footer on the screen says the laptop is not plugged in to any power source and helpfully informs us how much battery power is left.

This, too, we can solve with some creativity. Since Housemate’s computer and mine are identical twins, let’s swap out the cord and see if that works. Success. Enter a couple of days of swapping one cord bewteen two computers used among three users. Takes some doing, but with scheduling and compromise, it works, until the next plot twist, which is that cord going from “the cord that works” to “the cord that usually works.”  A household where Real LIfe Romance Hero is deprived of YouTube, Housemate is cut off from  hidden object games is not a happy one, and, being a writer, computer access is kind of a big deal for me.

So, solutions become a priority. Housemate ordered replacement cords, plural, online, and a new-to-us desktop will make its way in our general direction, after a hiccup of its own, so relief is on the way. Housemate and I will head out later today (after tea, oh so much tea) to see if we can find replacement cords and/or batteries in stock at Big Box Electronic Store, but since the  twin laptops are older models, hopes are not too high. We may bite the bullet and price tablets. Real Life Romance Hero has a cookie theory about his laptop that does not involve chocolate chips (though baking might be good therapy right about now) and will be taking his laptop in for a diagnostic, because fixing beats replacing in such situations if his theory holds true.

Worst comes to worst, we live within walking distance of two public libraries, so there’s backup, and new cords should be here on the first of the month. It’s a good thing I love notebooks. The revolutionaries are recruiting, though. The refrigerator has started making some ominous noises…

Typing With Wet Claws: Under the Bed Edition (With Notebooks)

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello all, Skye here for another Feline Friday. This week’s entry is later than usual, because Anty is taking a half day to rest. Also because I am under the bed. No, I do not want to say why, but I am pretty sure that loud thing that goes by our house in the morning is a cat zamboni, and I want to make sure it does not get me. Sometimes, when it gets especially loud, I think it might be stuck on a tabby, and I am one, so I will stay under the bed for now.

Yesterday, Anty got three blog entries written, two of them posted (one of those in two different places) and looked over notes from the new critique group she visited the night before. She says it was super cold walking to the library against the wind, and she did spend a whole hour waiting in the wrong meeting room (but does not mind too much, because she wrote and writing time is always good) but she likes the group and will go back. As she expected, her pages were everybody’s first introduction to historical romance. She thinks that is kind of special. There were no kitties in anybody’s story, which I find disappointing, but that’s how life goes sometimes.

i1035 FW1.1i1035 FW1.1

Anty and Mama ran a couple of errands after dropping Uncle off at work today, and Anty came home with the notebook in the top picture, above. She already had the one in the bottom picture, and it is almost full. She did not need a new notebook, especially not one to to with this particular topic (it is on its 2nd and a half notebook already) and she prefers for all notebooks on one subject to go together, but the looks of the two books agreed (she even checked them against each other because the store still had copies of the spiral notebook) and the bond was strong, so the new one came home. Also, she likes the words on the cover, and those suggested what she can do with the new book.

This goes along with Anty being in the magpie stage. Things will have connections to her, and she will need to put them together, in different combinations, until they become something cohesive and new. These notebooks go with the first notebook she started on this subject, and the one that I peed on (and that she fixed) and also with some other things. Lists of songs that suggest a certain kind of story, images of different things (some of which she will print out on the new printer when the new computer arrives -I will probably go under the bed again when that happens, because I am pretty sure there is going to be noise involved. Also furniture moving around and there may be boxes. I am pretty sure there will be boxes.)

Now that spring is here, Anty is getting ready to go to the Let Your Imagination Take Flight conference next month. It is put on by NECRWA, the chapter Anty is gone all day long when she has a meeting, and she will be gone overnight. That makes me sad, but I will have some special time with Uncle. I can probably convince him to give me some extra treat to make up for how sad I am. Then I will not be sad. Well, not about not having enough treat. I will still miss Anty until she comes home. She will have new things with her when she does get back; free books and bookmarks and pens and other interesting things, especially things that crinkle. I like things that crinkle. If she brings home any sticky notes, she will crumple some and let me play with them. If you are going to be there, too, Anty would love to say hello and chat for a bit.

Along with writing and blogging and trying the new group, Anty had a new post go up at Heroes and Heartbreakers. She got to read The Warlord’s Wife by Sandra Lake before it went on sale. That is pretty special. You can read what she thought about it here.

Anty says it is getting late and she wants the computer so she can play Sims, so that will be it for this week. There is food in my bowl, so I will probably come out sooner rather than later so I can eat it. I want to make really really sure the cat zamboni is gone first.

Until next week...

Until next week…

Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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

Typing With Wet Claws: Creative Thinking Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Big week at our house, as usual, so that is no big surprise. Anty is very happy that she will be going to three RWA chapter meetings this week. Three. She has never been to that many in one week before. She went to Saratoga Romance Writers on Tuesday (you can read about that here, in case you are new or missed it.) Tomorrow is her day to go to Capitol Region Romance Writers (they are the closest to us) and on Sunday, she goes all the way back to where we used to live (the area, not the house) to go to a meeting of New England Romance Writers. She is gone all day when she goes to that one, but happy when she comes home.

Being around other writers, especially other romance writers, is very good for Anty. She comes home from those meetings all excited and wanting to write more.Sometimes, she comes back with more books. Sometimes, she comes home with snacks. That is people snacks, unfortunately, and not kitty snacks, though that is okay, because I only eat the food Mama, Anty and Uncle give me, and they never miss, so I am fine. This week, Anty came home with flowers. In case you missed them, they looked -and still look- like this.

They're baaaaack.

They’re baaaaack.

Anty getting the flowers was a good thing, because she likes flowers, and she, Uncle and Mama had wanted flowers for the front window (the one I watch birdies through) for a while now. She was happy to get these, and thinks they are very beautiful. There is only one problem, though. They make her head explode. That is very frightening for a kitty. When her head explodes, I run out of the room, because the sound is very loud. Then I come right back, because I am brave and curious. Then her head explodes again. I am exhausted from all the running. That is probably why Anty moved the flowers from the front window and into her office, where she can close the door.

There is only one problem with that. If the sneezy flowers are in the office, she can’t be, and she needs to rearrange the office because a new destktop computer is coming home in a couple of weeks (it is not new-new but it is new to Anty, so that still counts.) This means the flowers have to go, but where? At first, Uncle had a good suggestion. Anty could bring them to a friend who had to stay at the people vet for a while. Anty agreed that was a good idea, and she took the sneezy flowers all the way to the people vet, only to find that their friend’s room was…empty. A nice nurse assured Anty everything was okay and that the people vet said their friend was better and had gone home only a few minutes before. Anty took the sneezy flowers back home and told Uncle they had to think of another place.

Then Uncle had another good idea. He could take the sneezy flowers to the prayer chapel near his work. I should mention that Uncle is Catholic,which does not have anything to do with cats (I know, I was disappointed to find that out, too; it has c-a-t right in the name. That is rather misleading.) even though all the Catholic people I know personally like cats a lot. But some do not. Anyway, Anty was happy to hear the flowers could have a home in the chapel, and went off to write, When she got home, surprise – flowers. She waited for Uncle to come home and asked him why they were still there. He said he’d forgotten it was Lent, and there cannot be any decorations at that chapel during Lent. So much for that.

Anty does not want to throw out these flowers because they are not cut, but are in soil, so they are alive. She says she might take them to her CRRWA meeting tomorrow and give them to somebody there. I hope they are not allergic to flowers, too. Maybe next time, she should get catnip.

Speaking of catnip, since notebooks are like catnip to Anty, she wanted me to share her newest acquisition, her very first 5×8 hardcover Moleskine. Can you believe she went this long without one?

I think the discount helped...

I think the discount helped…

Anty has been very busy this week, not only with meetings, blog posts, and stories, but with her brand newest thing. Today is her day to talk at 31 Days and 31 Ways to Jumpstart Your Life. She is excited to talk about how being creative helps make life better. Tomorrow is the day she posts at Buried Under Romance. If you have never read her posts there, here is last week’s post, about finding new books. Here is the picture she took for this week’s post. What do you think she will talk about there?

what could this mean?

what could this mean?

Anty says this is getting long and she needs the computer back, so that is about it for this week.

Until next week...

Until next week…

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

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