possibly pointless blabbering

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.

This Rambling Is Going Somewhere, I Promise

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We were trapped in the limbo between where we were and where we wanted to be.

–David Levithan

My brain is mush today.  I don’t do well in high heat, and we are in one of those over ninety degrees for several days heat waves. There is a giant hole in the ground outside our house (city doing things to stuff under where the sidewalk used to be.) I have an ice pack at the base of my spine, to stay cool, and ingesting enough water to fill a small swimming pool. I would like to be in a swimming pool, actually, preferably an indoor one, but that would require leaving the house, so I refer to temperature and giant hole above.

There originally was a topic for this post, when I’d planned to post it, on Monday. That ship has sailed, and it is not coming back, so I am going to ramble. I have no idea whether the post I’d planned had anything to do with the quote above, which I love dearly, or if I have any chance of staying on topic, but I have a goal of blogging  three times a week, dagnabit, and I am going to stick to that. I had a writing teacher once (she would correct me that she was a group facilitator, not a teacher, but I learned stuff, Julia, so it counts. I will probably have a heroine named Julia someday, and That Julia will never know, because she doesn’t read romance. Ah, but you did, Julia. You read -okay, listened to- my stuff in group, so that counts, too.) who said that the practice of writing would bring the product of writing. In short, put pen on paper when she said “go” and then keep it moving until she called time.

It’s kind of like that with blogging. If I start blabbering on the paper, or screen, in this case, I’ll wind up talking about something, so there really are no wasted entries. It’s all going somewhere, even if that somewhere is priming the pump for other writing. I usually do need to prime. This morning, I’ve been filling the pages of a neon green legal pad with swoopy handwritten notes for one project, and, all things being equal, that’s where I’d like to stay. Commitment, though. If I don’t post today, then I’ll let it slide until tomorrow, which is my day away from the house (but not from computers, but more on that later) so that would run into Skye’s posting, and weekend posting would not be the most convenient thing, so it had to be today.

Today’s quote, taken from one of the stories in How They Met And Other Stories, fits the way I’m feeling. Real Life Romance Hero, greatly improved from  his own challenges, suggested I take today to rest, but how can I when I am literally years behind where I wanted to be? Years. Oh, and I suppose I’m going to fix that all in one day? Um, no. That’s not realistic or even possible, butbutbutbutbutbutbut….yeah. That’s the thing, that limbo of being between where we are and where we want to be.

Where I am now is not where I would have thought I’d be  years ago, before I got the phone call from my dad’s neighbor, before that first time Real Life Romance Hero and I waited on the front porch of where we used to  live for the ambulance to arrive after that first asthma attack. A book a year, that was the plan, maybe two if I really got into my groove, but it’s been long enough since a release that I could count as a new author under certain criteria. That’s neither good nor bad, merely is, and I need to be okay with that. it’s a fact. Life happens. I can’t control that.

What I can control is what I do with it. I can write the best story I can, and put everything I have into it. That neon green legal pad and I were up past midnight and up again before six, because my hero and heroine needed me. Bless their poor broken hearts, and my poor scrambled brain. I can’t do everything. I can’t write x years worth of books in one day, but I can write this scene. I can get the first of three blog entries posted. Julia was right. The practice brings forth the product.

I wrote some crap in those sessions, but I also wrote the opening of My Outcast Heart, a good deal of Orphans in the Storm, and a good deal, if not all, of “Never Too Late” in those sessions, too. So there is some precedent. Here I am, a good deal (yes, I did just use that phrase in the line above, but it’s my blog and I’ll repeat if I want to) farther down the page than I’d intended, so that’s good. I’d thought about doing a video blog for today, but my one rule about video blogging (so far) is that I only make videos when my makeup does not melt off my face while I am applying it. Kind of important, that one. I’m sure there will be others, but for today, that’s enough.

So that’s it for today. It’s hot. I’m cranky. I don’t like summer, and I don’t like being denied my coffee house time or the accompanying iced tea. All the more reason to go back into story world until it’s time to meet Housemate for soft serve in the evening, DJ-ing the soundtrack for the drive on the new smartphone RLRH and Housemate (and the very persuasive Shawn D at the phone store) talked me into. We’re all a little disoriented on that one, but I am utterly delighted that there is an office program on the actual phone, so new writing toy. Rather makes that trip to where I want to be shorter, and with a better soundtrack.

All Dressed Up and No Place to Go, aka Not at Nationals

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It’s that time of year again. RWA Nationals, this year in New York, which made me insanely happy when I first heard of the choice of venue. I’d promised myself as soon as my critique partner told me where this year’s Nationals would be, that I would be in New York for that one. I am, after a fashion. I live in New York, but not in New York City. I’m about two hours away, and I love where I live, but the fact remains that I am not attending Nationals, and I am grouchy about that.

Not that I’m not thankful to have what I have, and be where I am, because I am. I have a new laptop that works beautifully, I’m working on multiple projects that feel right for me, and get a few extra days at home with Real Life Romance Hero thanks to the recommendations of a people vet, to use Skye’s term. Plus I get to hang out with a gorgeous Maine Coon all day. These are not bad things.

Still, for the extroverted romance writer, RWA Nationals is like extroverted romance writer Christmas. A whole hotel, crammed full of people who do what I do and love what I love? Free books and swag everywhere? A chance to see old friends and meet new ones, and literally be surrounded by the romance industry? What’s not to love? I know big conferences can be hard for more introverted types, with all those people and so little quiet space and time, but for me, it’s like putting a duck in water. Paddlepaddlepaddle, I got this. What do you write? And you? And you? And you? What are you reading? Who’s watching Poldark? Here, have a business card. :tries to find business card port on laptop, gives up:

I love getting dressed up; for me, that’s what feels natural and comfortable, so I’m not missing out on that one at all. I’m wearing a long navy eyelet dress today, matching sandals, beachy hair, makeup done, because I am going out somewhere, even if it’s only down the block to my favorite coffee house (it’s hot out, and I do not do heat, humidity, or sun well.) There comes a point in every day when the need to be around people who do not share my address and/or last name becomes as important as food and air. The definition of extroversion I use is that an extrovert gains energy from being around other people and spends it alone. Go be with people to fill my tank, then jump into story world to spend all that energy by myself, writing. That seems to work pretty well for me. Your mileage may vary.

I’ve been attending the New England RWA conference for several years, and love that. My favorite part is Saturday breakfast, because that is extroverted morning person Christmas. Hotel full of people who love to talk about romance writing (and reading) and there’s breakfast food? Only problem there is that 7AM feels late for me (uber-morning person here; I trace this back to a particular late fall morning when I was a preschooler, and my morning person mother showed me why predawn is the best time for those like us to get up. Mist wrapping around the bare-limbed trees as the night faded into dawn burned itself into my memory, and I still remember that switch flipping on as we looked out the kitchen window together. There may have been pancakes.) Add copious amounts of tea to the mix, and I become supercaffieneated extroverted morning person. Scary at times, but also, for me, super super super fun.

Then there’s workshops, which I drink in like a thirsty camel slurps water. Last year, I took a stab at moderating a couple of workshops, which I loved and will probably do again in the future. Volunteering at a conference brings on a whole other level of experience. I’ve helped with breakfast setup (morning people think this is fun, not work, so best to take full advantage when possible) once, which had the added benefit of being able to pick my seat in advance of the meal, by criteria of what book would be on my seat. I have not yet been able to train Real Life Romance Hero to put a newly released historical romance on my seat at every meal, but maybe if I give him a stack, he could try, just for this week? It’s not asking that much.

At this past year’s NECRWA conference, I skipped a workshop to huddle in a corner of the lobby and write an entire scene on my tablet. Considering that I had not yet mastered the touchscreen and was doing this without a stylus (we shall call this time the dark ages) this is an accomplishment. I also had not discovered how to toggle between letters and numbers and thus believed that the office program had no quotation marks (I know, I know, please consider that endearing) but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the atmosphere, all the inspiration in the air, and that it had reached critical mass. That a friendly face could take one look at what was going on, say something akin to “oh, you’re writing. Catch you later,” and that would still count as contact.

I haven’t been to Nationals yet, and it’s not going to be this year. I’m disappointed in that, but I do know that I will be, at the right time, with a new book to shill…er, promote. I meant promote. In the meantime, if you haven’t had enough of my blabber, here’s my first shot at video blogging with the new laptop:

Typing With Wet Claws: Back on Our Feet Edition

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Hello all, Skye here for another Feline Friday. I am blogging on my computer today, with Anty’s brand new stylus. It is tricky to use if you have paws, which I do. Still, it leaves fewer prints on the screen, so I thought I would give it a try. If I make a lot of mistakes, please remember I do have paws. Also, I am very cute.

This has been a challenging week. Uncle had to go back to the people vet, this time because his paws were sick. He had to get some rest and take different pills that would not hurt his paws. Uncle was very brave, and did not have to wear the cone of shame. We are all very proud of him. He is much better now and can go out to hunt for cat food and other necessary things.

This means that Any does not have to spend as much time taking care of people vet things and can focus more on her writing. This is good news because she tends to get crabby when she does not get to write. Also when she does not get to sleep. She has not been doing a lot of either his week, come to think of it. She has been pretty crabby. That is all about to change, though, since Uncle has gone back to hunt. His paws are better, he is in a good mood, and they had a nice time together after he helped Anty put away her hunting (she hunted a lot of groceries with Mama, who had to go out and hunt some more.) With Mama and Uncle both out of the house, that means that Anty can use the internet computer all she wants.

She first thought she could be okay using only her tablet, Robin Sparkles, and sending files from there to other computers, but it did not work out as easily as she had hoped. Also, one computer shared among three humans takes more planning than a tired brain can handle without somebody’s schedule colliding with somebody else’s. Then there is the fact that three people using one computer all that much means it is getting pounded on far more than one computer should. This means that a new computer will probably come into the house soon. That means change. Have I mentioned kitties do not like change? Maybe the box will be nice. I do not climb, so I will probably not get inside it, but I might like to lean against it. I like leaning.

Anty does like working with Robin Sparkles, though, because they can go to the mall lots of different places. One thing Anty had always wanted to do with a tablet is get on Instagram, and, today, she did. Right now, all there is, is a picture of me, but that is a very good start. If you are on Instagram, Anty is annacarrascobowling on there. She will probably have lots of pictures of me and ducks, but not in the same picture, because the ducks are in the park and I am at home.

Anyway, Anty is getting ready to move files onto the new computer when it arrives. She can still use her old laptop for writing and playing The Sims 3 (she does not have 4 yet, but tried the demo and thought it was fun, so someday, she will get that game also) but it cannot use the internet any longer. Maybe the computer vet can help it do that again, but we will not know that for a while. If the computer vet is really good, maybe they can even fix the H key. Uncle knows a good computer vet and we will take Anty’s and Uncle’s old laptops to them soon. I expect there may be bad words, but on the other paw, that might mean more working computers. I do not know how it works when there are more computers than humans. Maybe they will need to get another human? I like the humans we already have and do not need any more. No offense.

Anty likes the idea of starting over with a brand new machine, even though that will mean a lot of work getting things set up. The new computer will probably not have Word, but she can put Scrivener on it, and also Zen Writer.  She likes Zen Writer because it is pretty and she can hear typewriter key sounds while she works. I think those key sounds are very interesting. She knows that it will take a long time to install Sims 3 on a new computer, but the up side of that is that it will be able to handle the expansions she has and maybe a new world or two. Then she can actually play instead of sigh when the drivers fail and the screen goes black. She is much less crabby when she can play Sims. If she can write, sleep and play Sims, she is a lot easier to live with; take my word on that one. I could tell you stories, but then she might not let me use the computer as much as she does now, so I will not do that.

Not all of the files will make it to the new computer, and that is all right. Stories that she has decided she will not be writing after all (we will not talk about the vampire historical, for example) can stay where they are. She will probably not delete them, but maybe save them to disk instead, where they cannot hurt anybody. Keeping only stories she is currently writing on the new computer will cut down on mental clutter and help keep her focused. I could point out that inspirational picture files take up a lot of space, but I also know where my treats come from, so I will not do that, either. She can look at me and Uncle. That should be enough.

This week, the coming soon announcement is mine. I have lined up my very first Posting Playdate guest, Bailey. Bailey lives with my Anty Sue Ann, who blogs at SueAnnPorter.com. That is very exciting. I have never had a guest before, but I have read Anty’s interviews, so I think I have a good grasp on how that goes. Watch this space for more details.

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

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Random Thoughts From a Tired Mind (with pictures of ducks)

annabowling 2 Comments

Hopping on the Thursday Thirteen bandwagon today, because a dose of normal in the current sea of chaos is welcome today, and having a bit of structure helps immensely. So.

  1. Random duck pictures will be a lot easier now that I have a camera cord again, though the ones in this post are from a few weeks back.
  2. I am happy to be a caregiver, and at the same time, really want a nap. Also some reliable way of remembering what day it is. Internet and calendars, yes, those are helpful.
  3. If the library could get our family another copy of Game of Thrones, season one, with season two following close behind, that would be great. I am in withdrawal.
  4. Reading historical romance, my favorite genre, is really hard right now, and I am not at all certain why. I am fairly sure this will pass, but I want to read romance, though it’s hard to get into and that bugs me like heat rash.
  5. Realistic YA reading (and listening) binge continues. I have not developed a desire to write in this genre, but reading it works quite well. I could gorge on the raw emotion I’m finding there and want to carry it over to romance.
  6. I wonder if I left my favorite historical romance books and my favorite realistic YA books in a candlelit room with Barry White music playing, if they would kindly breed.
  7. I suspect their method of reproduction may be through my brain and fingers.
  8. Technology is not my friend, and I suspect may actually be writing nasty things about me on the walls of whatever it is computers use as bathrooms. I do not want to know what computers use as bathrooms.
  9. Notebooks are love. It is not possible to have too many notebooks. Starting a separate notebook blog crosses my mind more frequently than I would like to admit.
  10. When I am not writing romance, I miss it like a homesick orphan. :dims lights, cues spotlight, sings even more mournful version of “Memory” from Cats.:
  11. Computer issues will be solved, at some point, one way or another, and finding workarounds in the meantime is a good way to stretch creativity, but I am looking forward to finding the solution even more.
  12. I am impatient for the Paper Towns movie, and to see the two episodes of Poldark waiting on my DVR. I also would like to mush them together and see if they breed, but then remind myself to see #7 above.
  13. One earbud from the set that came with my tablet has just given up the ghost. See #8 above. This requires more ducks:
i1035 FW1.1

duck, duck…

random waterfowl

…goose

Video Blog Q & A

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Monday’s post on Tuesday again, small (very small) improvement on camera technique (hey, I’m still learning, but at least no big giant head this time) and my first time answering reader questions in video form. The most common questions I get asked are:

  • What are you writing?
  • What are you reading?
  • Do you keep a journal?

First two answers are pretty straightforward, the last one less so, and answer number one is actually more what I write in, but it’ll do for now. I am trying to be more conscientious with updating my Goodreads currently reading list, but it’s usually fairly accurate.

“What are you reading?” is an interesting question to ask someone who reads a lot, because that doesn’t always only mean books from a bookstore or on Kindle. I am also beta reading a historical romance by a wonderful author I am honored to know personally, and critiquing a futuristic romance for another writer friend. There’s also First Look assignments for Heroes and Heartbreakers. There are magazines, notably RT Book Reviews, Romance Writer’s Report, and Art Journaling for me. There’s first time reading, rereading, skimming, planned reading, reading that just happens, looking over my own older notebooks or files for bits of tid I’m going to need, or for a boost when I see how far I’ve come. There is a reason my first ms lives in a storage unit in another state.

If I’m watching a movie or TV episode on my laptop or the DVD, I like to have captions on, and there’s a fair deal of reading even when I play Sims 3. Reading blogs, reading email, reading Facebook posts, reading instant messages, reading pretty much anything that comes into my field of vision. Street signs, pizza boxes, anything. It’s an occupational hazard for the reader/writer, so narrowing it down to only books makes the answer a lot shorter, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Hauling out the notebooks in which I am writing is about as close as I’m going to get, right now, to talking about what I am writing in them, at least here. I do need to talk about works in progress, but selectively, to one or two writer friends. Then I babble, sometimes incoherently, they listen, and reduce all that babbling to the root of the matter, or ask questions that help me figure things out.

Did I mention I love questions? Questions are the best, often unlocking doors I not only didn’t know were locked, but didn’t know were there. So, questions are fun, and always welcome.

Maybe next week, I will have the camera at a non-funhouse mirror angle.

He Asked For It, You Got It: My First Vlog

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My husband asked me, a while back, if I’d ever thought about making a video blog, and I said no. I said no for some time, and I had reasons.  I didn’t like being in front of the camera, nobody would want to watch me yammer about  reading and writing romance novels, the intircacies of notebooks and how I feel about who kissed on TV. So why now? It was time.

Last night, I chatted with the writer friend with whom I am collaborating on a novella project, and she suggested Skype as a means of communicating, as we live too far apart to meet in person. Ulp. Skype? That means downloading something, and letting somebody actually see me. Which is silly, because people see me in person all the time. Since I had to figure out how the camera on my tablet works for Skype anyway, why not record a test video? That, as it turned out, ended up being a bunch of close up pictures of my very scrunchy face, as there is a learning curve to these things. All of those pictures still, naturally, and will not be making it to cyberspace anytime soon.

Then I noticed that other button on the screen and pressed that, and oh. There we go. Not that scary after all. The scary part came later. Watching it back. I’ve always been the person to avoid looking at pictures of myself, and the thought of hearing my own voice has made me cringe for literally decades. This time, though, it was different. Like athletes and dancers need to watch their own videos to get better at what they do, I’m guessing it’s the same with a video blog. So, I did, and know what? I didn’t hate it. No broadcast professionals are going to lose their jobs to me, but it’s fun to have a new way to connect with readers and writers and notebook enthusiasts, so I think we’re going to give this a go.

View my maiden voyage here:

or point your browser to:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMdqan9llH8

Do any of you follow video blogs on writing or reading? What do you like to see covered in such blogs? I’m new, and eager to learn, and who knows, you might get your wish.

Typing With Wet Claws: Learning Curve Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. We are closing in here on the first full week of Anty being able to use her office. So far, so good. She still has some things left to do, like see if the printer will work with her tablet (I suspect that will be noisy, if it does, so part of me hopes it does not. On the one paw, Anty would be happy that she could print things, but on the other paw, she would be able to print things. I am not yet sure what I think about this possibility.) The camera cable remains missing, so I had to put up one of my greatest hits pictures today. I will enjoy this reprieve as much as I can, because once she does have a camera cable agin, she will be back at taking pictures.

She has tried taking my picture with the tablet camera, but that did not turn out very well. Part of that is the fact that Anty has trouble with depth perception. Part of it is that Anty has trouble with technology. Part of it is that the camera is in the front of the tablet, and it is difficult for Anty to see what she is trying to photograph unless she is trying to photograph herself. Even then, she generally gets pictures where her face is very big or she only gets the top of her (or my) head. She did manage to get all of Mama’s head in one picture, but she was not trying to take a picture of Mama, and Mama did not want her picture taken, so that did not turn out well for anybody.

This coming week, Mama will be going to where we used to live, to help Grandma at the people vet. This means that I will stay home with Uncle and Anty. I am still not sure I want to go into Anty’s office, even though that is where she is spending most of her weekdays now. This is a dilemma for a kitty. On the one paw, I want to be near Anty. On the other paw, there is carpet. Did I mention that the carpet is rather me-colored? I have to take that into consideration, especially combined with Anty’s lack of depth perception. I am sure we will figure something out. For now, she is working in the office with the door open (except when Uncle is around and she really needs to concentrate; then it is closed) and hoping that I will get curious as to what she is doing in there.

I think she is curious about what she is doing in there, too, but it seems to be working so far. Some humans say it takes twenty-eight days to make a habit, other humans say it is more like sixty, and still others say that it is best to take it one day at a time. What Anty is doing is remembering the way she knows works best for her – jump in and figure it out from there, then start mushing everything into order. Mama has started asking Anty to make lists for her, which is probably a good thing. Making lists makes Anty very happy, and making sure that I could post my blog today was part of Anty’s list for the day.

Most days are starting to work something like this:  Anty has breakfast with Mama (Uncle gets up later, because he works later and goes to sleep later) and then goes into her office. She will usually do some free writing in her notebook with the vampire on the cover. This does not mean she is writing about vampires (she tried to once; it did not go well.) She likes the picture on the cover, the paper inside is smooth and has roses on the corners, and she can use a fountain pen on it. Free writing means she puts down whatever is on her mind at the time, usually two to four pages, and then she makes her list for the day.

this sign goes on the door when Anty *really* does not want to be disturbed.

this sign goes on the door when Anty *really* does not want to be disturbed.

Writing tasks have to go on the list first, as writing is her job and she has to treat it that way. She used to put things like “write” on the list, but that was too vague, so now it is more like “outline the scene in Her Last First Kiss where Heroine first meets Hero.” Now that she knows what she was missing from this story, that means she needs to rip apart the outline she already had and make a new one but it will work out better (though I do not think there are any cats in this version, either, and the dog gets a bigger part. Hmph. Maybe there will be cats in the next book.) She has her plot board and sticky notes out, so I know what she is going to do tomorrow, when Mama and Uncle are both out hunting. She is making noises about printing pictures if she can get the tablet and printer to talk to each other. It is a good thing the office is on the other end of the house.

Anty also puts down when she has to read books that she has to write about for Heroes and Heartbreakers, and sets a specific time or amount of chapters she has to read. Sometimes it takes her a little while to get into the rythym. of reading a particular story, but once she does, then she can read it faster. She likes to read fast. Reading that she has to write about counts as writing, too, so that is also important.

After that, is reading things written by humans she knows, and telling them what she thinks about it. Humans call this critiquing or beta reading. There is a difference, but it is hard to explain to kitties. Anty is currently doing that for two writers friends, and needs to send one of them something that she is writing. She should probably do that soon, before she talks herself out of it. That is what she does when she gets nervous. That is probably because she cannot fit under the bed, like I do.

Well, that is about it for this week. Anty needs to write more about the dog part, so she will need the computer back. Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

Juggling Chainsaws

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“Running, always you have to keep going. You need to die running.”
-Hyvon Ngetich

My morning pages today began with “I have a lot of reasons to not like this day.” It’s true. One, I am not a summer person. June is unaguably summer, though the calendar says we’re still in spring for nineteen more days. Today is gray and cool and rainy, though, so that is one thing in today’s favor. Pictures may be greatest hits for a while, unless I can master the art of the front facing tablet camera, or you may need to settle for views of what my work area is looking at (aka me) instead of the other way around. We’ll see how that goes. Domestic tornadoes continue to blow through our family, and I am adding another phrase to the ever-expanding lexicon: juggling chainsaws.

That’s what it feels like at times, one disaster or irritation (and some things can be both at the same time) piling up and me wondering how I’m going to get everything done. This weekend brought a few of those, and since my track record of getting through interesting times seems to be one hundred percent so far, I can only assume it’s going to continue, and so the best thing to do is carry on.

Those who know me well know that the only thing better than making a list is prioritizing the list, and the only thing better than prioritzing the list is checking things off the list, and the only thing better than checking things off the list is checking the last thing off the list. So, that’s how I started my day. For some things, the only way to handle them (maybe these would be the chainsaws with the safety gaurd on) is to haul out my favorite Polish proverb: Not my circus, not my monkeys, and carry on. Those are the things I can’t control, or that are somebody else’s job. Not worth my time and energy, because I am needed elsewhere. The things on my list are the things that I can make a difference on, and, thankfully, most of those have to do with writing.

After a stretch of years (longer than I would care to count) when the thing I love most, writing, was the hardest thing in the world to do, it’s good to love writing again, and that’s where I want my time and energy to go. There’s a note torn from a pocket Moleskine on my fallen bulletin boad in my getting-a-lot-more-comfortable office, that says “You’re in the factory. Make the product.” This comes to me from somebody else, through somebody else, rephrased by me, because the original thing had something about making words and “making words” puts me in a mental muscle cramp, so I don’t do that. I tell stories. Yes, because I write books and blog posts, words are involved, but the focus for me isn’t the individual words, but the stories, and the characters who live in them.

In Anne Lamott’s classic Bird by Bird, she talks about using a one inch picture frame to focus on one aspect of a big job at one time. The whole thing doesn’t matter right now, only this one thing. I find that useful, because making order out of chaos is A) something I’ve found I am suprisngly good at doing, and B) it’s fun for me. So, lists. Notebooks. Sticky notes. Even now, my blood pumps a little faster at the thought of taking down the bulletin board that’s been there for months, with the same “I don’t know what I’m doing right now” stuff tacked up on it, because, well, writers should have stuff tacked on their bulletin boards, right?

Eh, maybe. Maybe I need to look at the blank space and the order will present itself. What I do know is that the frame around my time has gone into place. From nine to five, I am at work. Today’s quote comes from Hyvon Ngetich, not a writer, but a runner. Her body gave out during the Austin marathon, with two tenths of a mile yet to go. She was offered a wheelchair by medical personnell, but refused it and crawled, yes, crawled, to the finish line on her own. She came in third. Not too shabby there, madam.

Running and I are not friends (gals who are, um, bountifully endowed, as well as non-athletic people, you know what I mean) but I admire the heck out of this woman for her perseverence. I want that. I need that. I take that. I put it in a one inch picture frame and focus on that to get the job done. Wriitng is a curious combination of fancy and practicality, which I find more curious by the day, and that only makes me want it more.

Today, I get to dip into several worlds in turn. I get to write a review of a book I got to read before it goes on sale, which already feels like a special privilege, and share why it’s awesome. I get to make concrete plans to begin work on my first collaboration in years, with a writer friend I’ve wanted to work with for over a decade. I get to push everything else aside and spend time in Georgian England with a hero and heroine I love like crazycakes, and I get to research romance novels that tap into the legendary romance of Robin Hood and Maid Marian (any favorites, guys and gals?) Not bad for a day’s work, I’d say.

See you later, because office hours have begun.

Typing With Wet Claws: Loud and Cordless Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. My picture is very dark this week, because Anty misplaced the USB cord that connects her camera to her computer and has to rely on pictures she has already uploaded until she can replace or locate the cord. I do not blame her much, because this week has been a big one.

On Tuesday, Landlady came to the house with Handyman, to make sure that the apartment was ready for a state inspection for loud buzzy things. I do not know why the state wants us to have loud buzzy things in our house. Anty says it is because those are smoke alarms and will help us if there is a fire. I can understand that, but did that mean humans had to ring the doorbell that much?

When a human who does not have a key wants to come inside, they press the doorbell outside, and it rings inside. It is loud. It is a metal thing that bangs against another metal thing and it makes a buzz we can feel in the floor. It scares me, and Anty and Uncle and Mama do not like it, either. On Tuesday, it rang a lot. Uncle sometimes sleeps during the day because he works hard in the evenings. I sleep whenever I want, because I am a kitty. The doorbell woke us both up, and then strange humans came inside. One of them changed all the buzzy things to new buzzy things. He had to get on a ladder to do that, and then had to make the buzzy things buzz to make sure we would know when a fire happens.

I thought that was going to be it, but that was not it. Landlady came back on Thursday, with a different human she called Inspector, to check all the buzzy things again. This meant more doorbells, but Inspector only looked at the buzzy things. He was smart enough to know from looking at them that they would work, and he was as quiet as he could be so that Uncle could rest and I would not be too scared. I still went under the bed, to make double sure.

Anty has found this week a challenging one for work. For one thing, when she wants to clean the apartment, it is best to get out of her way and let her do it. She says that her story people talk to her when she is doing that kind of thing, so it is kind of like working, but she gets impatient and would like to have all that stuff written down (I wonder if she could dictate to me, since I have my own computer now. Maybe once the keyboard gets fixed at the computer vet. I am already fixed. That happened at the regular vet, before I got adopted.) Then there were the afternoons spent waiting for the inspection related things and it did not help that she misplaced the USB cord. Losing essential things like that makes her cranky. Without the cord, she can take all the pictures she wants, but she cannot edit or upload them. She cannot share pictures of her work area, ducks, books, or me. I can see why that would make her cranky. She chased me around the living room with the tablet this morning, trying to get a picture of me with that. It did not end well. All she got were some pictures of her own face. She is not sure she wants to share those but one never knows.

Reading can go a long way toward making Anty un-cranky, so she should do more of that.. Since it is that time of month again, she shared her best read of May over at Heroes and Heartbreakers. A lot of other bloggers shared their favorites, too. Maybe Anty should try some of those books as well, because she still has some un-cranking to do. The post is here and it looks like this:

H&H Best Reads of May

H&H Best Reads of May

Yesterday, after the inspector and Landlady left, Anty wanted to work on her book, so she headed to the coffee house. Things did not go as planned there, either, as Scrivener would not work for her at all, and that is where she is writing the book, which meant that was a problem. She would have searched online for a solution, but, in keeping with the rest of the week, her laptop would not hold onto the wifi signal. She was not happy with that and wrote on something else in Word for a while, then came home and took a nap. She is making grumbly noises today, too, which makes me think another nap may be in order. For me, if not for her.

One thing that makes Anty happy today is that Twitter has two special hashtags to focus on historical romance: #WhyIReadHistoricals and #WhyIWriteHistoricals. If you already follow Anty, you may have read her entries already. If you do not follow her yet, you can do so here.

That is about it for this week. Anty wants to give Scrivener another go, so I will sign off for now and see you next week (maybe sooner if Anty is too cranky to blog on her regular days.) Until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

Until next week...

Until next week…