romance

As If

annabowling Leave a comment

Sometimes, it’s good to be a little uncomfortable. Right now, I’m sitting in my office, in front of the desktop, open notebooks at hand, with pencilled notes. There’s a nearly-empty travel mug in front of me. I have my ears pricked for the on and off (mostly off now, I think) rain outside my window. The numbers at the bottom of my screen tell me it won’t be long until Housemate and Real Life Romance Hero return home, so my time for uninterrupted (at least by others) is ticking down to its limit for the day. What I would like to do is take a nap.
One of the best things about working from home is that one can go to work in pajamas. One of the worst things about working from home is that one can go to work in pajamas. Today, I hit the  intersection of too tired and too comfy, so I got out of the chair, swapped leggings for jeans (aka leg prison) put on makeup and everyday jewelry (one skeleton hand ring, one skull ring, earrings are also skull themed today. I love skulls.) In a few minutes, I will give in to the urge to make tea. I don’t want tea right now, but I will in a while, so acting in anticipation is probably in my best interest at the moment.
I have two notebooks, one Molieskine Volant (sage green) and one Moleskine Cahier (black,) both bearing aforementioned pencilled notes. Said notes are for transcription, and that’s my plan for the day. My body says “nap.” My brain says “write.” Since the brain controls the body, I think (pun unintended, but we’ll go with it) and there is no “handwritten novels in note form” section at either Barnes and Noble or on Amazon, it is in my very best interests to push through the afternoon slump and Get Stuff Done. Hence the actual clothing and ritual of what my mother would have called putting on my face.
Last night, my brain too pooped to do anything productive, I spent some time browsing beauty sites and researching cosmetic items I might like to add to my stash.  On one such baord, I found a thread on colorful eye makeup. Several of the posts spoke of using colors that came in pallettes, but don’t get much use. Since it was late and I was tired, I thought, hey, that might be fun. I have green eyes. I don’t usually use green shadow, because, well, green eyes.  I have green shadows, though; they came in a pallette I recieved as a Christmas gift, but I don’t normally use them. Since I’d put on actual pants precisely for the discomfort factor, why the heck not? So I did. I have green eyelids, a different shade of green on my browbone, a bit of green on the lower lid/lashline as well. The world did not end.
What did end was the mindset of still being in my pajamas and not actually being at work. Dressed and made up and with a spritz of some vintage Chanel #19 (a long-ago gift from a favorite aunt no longer with us) that’s not lounging arround the house wear. I’m sure my imaginary friends appreciate the effort; we’ll see about that, because I’m dropping by to see them as soon as I’m finished with this entry. It says so right in my daily task list, so that’s what’s going to happen.
This post is turning out to be exactly what I didn’t want it to be; I feel like I’ve done a thousand versions of the whole left foot, right foot thing. That’s not bad, exactly. There’s a place for that, but what it gets swirling around my mind is that there’s another ingredient to the whole creativity thing, and that’s the love. Not only because I write romance (though that certainly helps with matters; I’ve been crazy in love with romance novels since I was eleven, and with love stories long before then) but the love of the work.

Today, when I wrote my morning pages, I wrote about acting as if; as if I had complete assurance these books were going to find good homes. Acting as if the market were a sure thing. Acting as if there were a whole bunch of readers waiting for these particular stories, eager to meet Hero and Heroine, Girl and Guy, in the flesh…er, page. There’s a little bit of pressure in that, but also a whole lot of purpose. If I’m only telling stories for my own amusement, well, I know how they’re going to turn out, as they’re in my own head. Why decipher the stuff I wrote in mechanical pencil, at however many mph along the highway, or, also in mechanical pencil, wedged into the tiny haven of space between the tall dresser in the dining room (old house, have to be creative with furniture placement) and Housemate’s bedroom door, while pretty much everybody involved in the transfer of power, as it were, from current landlady to incoming landlord-and-lady?

Writing romance is my happy place. When the whole apartment is swarming with people with clipboards and cameras and turning on faucets and light switches and checking I-don’t-know-what, there’s the pencil and the page, and whoosh. I’m not wedged between door and dresser at all, but surveying the common room of an eighteenth century inn, getting a bead on the crowd and figuring out how hard it’s going to be for Hero to get a room for the night (or at least bed space) by dint of his charm alone. Even in Century Eighteen, leaving the house without one’s wallet (or period appropriate equivalent) has the same consequences it has now. Thankfully, Hero is a resourceful gent. He’ll be fine…eventually. first, I have to walk him straight into the last person he wants to see right now, shake up his worldview, and make him do the thing he cannot do. That’s how it works in these stories.

That’s how it works with writing, too. If I leave these notes as notes, they’re fine the way they are…but they can’t go out in public. There’s only one copy of them, it’s all in pencil, and it’s on paper. It’s in my handwriting, which is not always readable to all. There have been times Real Life Romance Hero has asked me to print notes to him, instead of writing them in cursive, and if he can’t read my handwriting, I am not going to inflict that on others. So, the transcription. The whipping of the story into shape from bullet points to prose, from present to past tense, the ordering of things that have arrows and parentheses and odd boxes with curlicues at the corners. Only then are they ready for other eyes. This process, too, has its tricks, its own colors that came with the usual suspects, that are waiting for a chance to show what they can do if I think outside the box. Looking at it that way, it’s a lot less scary, and a lot more fun.

 

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Uncle’s Paws Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Anty says I have my worried/hopeful look in this week’s picture, and she is right. She is very smart, and, also, she knows me. Mainly, I was worried/hopeful that there were two people in the hallway with me, so maybe one of them might feed me (one of them did, so you can relax. I thank you for your support.) but also, it has been a very full week over here, at home as well as with Anty’s writing.

Since the deal is that I have to talk to you about where you can read Anty’s posts (other than here, of course) before I can talk about anything else, I had better do that right away. As always, Anty posted on Buried Under Romance. This week, she talked about the many jobs that a first book in a new series has to accomplish, and also, what exactly constitutes a first book.  You can read the post here, and it looks like this:

burfeelslikethefirsttime

 

Anty posted a little bit on Goodreads this week, about  Mogul, by Joanna Shupe, from the Knickerbocker club series. It is only a little bit, because Anty wrote a lot more in the post she wrote for Heroes and Heartbreakers about that book, but that post is not live yet, so I cannot share that link until it is. In the meantime, her post on Goodreads is  here, and it looks like this (which is pretty much the whole thing; actually, it is the whole thing. Her post on Heroes and Heartbreakers is a lot bigger.)

acbreviewmogul

Speaking of Heroes and Heartbreakers, that is where Anty had two posts this week, and both of them are about books she really, really liked, which means she is on track with her goal of posting about more books there, this year. First, she posted about how much she liked Lawrence, the hero of The Lawyer’s Luck, by Piper Huguley. Anty (and I) talked some about that book last week, but, now, you can read the post here. It looks like this:

handhbookboyfriendlawrence

 

Anty  also talked about some of  her favorite Highland romances (she has quite a few, so picking only a few was really, really hard.) That post is here, and it looks like this:

handhessentialhighlanders

 

Okay. Now that I have that out of the way, it is time for the rest of the post. While Anty had some really good plans about working on scenes from both books, those plans got carried over, because this was one of those weeks where real life stepped in. This week, my Uncle had hurty front paws. There is a big word name for this kind of hurty paws, but I am a kitty, and do not always remember big human words, so I will say “hurty paws” instead, because that is basically what it was. Uncle’s paws got very big and turned colors that people paws are not supposed to turn. He made a lot of loud sounds, and nobody got a lot of sleep. Except me, because I am a kitty and need to have rest so I can fulfill my duties as a mews. It’s a cat thing.

On Wednesday, Anty went with Uncle, to the people vet. He was supposed to see his regular people vet, but his paws were so hurty that they decided to go to the right-now people vet instead. Which turned out to be a good call, because it turned out Uncle had another kind of hurt on top of the first kind of hurt, but the people vets there took good care of him. He had to have a shot, and some pills, but no cone of shame, and now he can use his paws again. Anty had to be his paws for a little while there (that is the “in sickness and in health” part of the wedding vows) but, thanks to the doctors and pharmacists, he has his paws back now. That is a good thing. Now he can pet me and feed me again, so that is a happy ending for all of us.

Now, it is the part where I bring things back around to writing. Most people do not like going to the people vet, especially not  the right-now people vet, and it can be harder to watch somebody we love be in pain that we can’t stop, more than it would be to have the pain ourselves. Anty read most of a whole book (it was Mogul) while she and Uncle waited for the people vets to help him, and, even though she did not get to do as much fiction writing as she wanted this week, she did get a reminder of how important it is for romance novels to show this kind of love, as well as all the nicer parts.

Anty likes to write about the kind of love that will go through some hard tests, where one person sees the other in pain that they can’t stop, but, if they can’t stop it, will go through it with them instead, and come out the other side okay. Not perfect, but together, because that is what matters most. Maybe that is not the best way to explain it, but human love is a complicated thing, and that is one of the big reasons Anty likes to write and read romance. Even if she did not fill as many pages as she would have liked  this week, Uncle is better, and Anty has that extra fuel to go into both books and remember the feelings that make her want to write romance in the first place. Also, there is me. I am on mews duty 24/7.

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

skyebye

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

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Thinking About Things Edition

annabowling 1 Comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Anty has been very busy this week, doing a lot of writing, which is a very good thing. I rewarded her efforts by sitting still for my picture, even if I would not look up at her. I had my reasons. This morning, a realtor human came by with an inspector human, to look at some things about the apartment that do not concern me. Anty put me in my and Mama’s room while the strange humans were here. I do not like it when strange humans come into the house, but if that is what has to happen for a while, I will find a way to deal. Probably from under one of the beds.

Since the deal is that I have to talk about Anty’s writing before I can talk about anything else, I will get right to that. First of all, Anty had her usual post at Buried Under Romance this week. Anty apologizes for not including a picture, like she usually does. This was a very full week, and some things slipped her mind. That was one of them. This week, she talked about new reads for the new year. That post is here, and it looks like this:

burnewreads

Anty already said, last week, how much she liked her first story by  Piper Huguley, and that she wanted to read more books by Miss Piper. That is exactly what Anty did, this week, when she read another book of Miss Piper’s, The Lawyer’s Luck, and she liked that one very, very much. Her review for that is here, and it looks like this:

grlawyersluck

I do not know how Goodreads decides who it should ask Anty to whom she wants to recommend a book, but it asked Anty if she wanted to let Miss Piper know about this book, too. I may not know a lot about the publishing business, being a kitty and all, but I think that if the person’s name is on the book cover, they probably know that the book exists. I would also hope that they know the book is good. Anty liked this book so much, as a matter of fact, that she wrote a post on it for Heroes and Heartbreakers. It is not live yet, so I cannot give you a link to it or picture of it. I also cannot give a link or picture of the other post Anty wrote for Heroes and Heartbreakers this week, because it is not live yet, either. I will be sure to let all of Anty’s readers know when they are live. The posts, I mean. I assume all of Anty’s readers are alive, too, although Anty does like zombies, so I guess that would be okay, too. Maybe vampires. She talked about some books that have vampires in them in the other post, but that post is not about vampires. There only  happen to be some vampires in part of it. Explaining these kinds of things can be difficult for a kitty, so I will let you figure it out when the posts (and hopefully you) are live and read it for yourselves.

Most of the work Anty has been doing this week is on her books. By that, I mean the ones she is writing, not the ones she is reading (though if any humans reading this can help Anty figure out the whole ascm file thing, she would be reading even more than she already is.) For part of most of the days this week, she worked on Her Last First Kiss, and then, for another part, the Beach Ball, which she writes with Anty Melva.

That is a lot of writing. It is also a lot of researching. For Her Last First Kiss, which takes place in 1784 England, Anty sometimes has to stop and check to see if what she wants to do is all right for that time and place. There is one part in one chapter, where Hero thinks a really bad word, several times (he is a grownup,. but really, really scared, and really, really mad. That is not an excuse, but an explanation.) Anty was not sure if the bad word was the right bad word. She had to consult with some writer friends who might be able to help her figure this out. Thankfully, Miss Vicki knows this story very, very well (she has known about it since Anty was babbling random things about “the new historical,” that is how long) so she knows what Hero would probably say, and was able to offer some suggestions. This resulted in using more old-timey bad words. I am thinking this is probably not a book for gentle readers. Maybe another one will be.

Anty has also been thinking about what comes next. After she is done with Her Last First Kiss, and she and Anty Melva are done with the Beach Ball, she would like to know what she will be writing after that. One of those is already settled. Anty and Anty Melva already know that they will write two more books related to the Beach Ball. I do not know what they will call those until they get names for them. She still has some thinking to do about the next historical project, though.

In the historical romance genre, linked books dominate the market right now, but Anty naturally thinks in standalone books. That means stories that are complete in themselves, that do not continue to other related stories. Anty is not going to stop writing those, because those are what she loves the very best, but she also knows that the “commercial” part of “commercial fiction” means that market trends do come into account. That also means that Anty now gets to figure out what sort of linked books would work best for the sorts of stories she likes to tell. She has a couple of ideas on that front, and will keep thinking -and writing- about those, but she also is very firm about telling herself “this book, now,” so that she does not get distracted. She is pretty sure she will have what she needs, when she needs it.

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

skyebye

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

 

Why Historical Romance?

annabowling 2 Comments

Hi. My name is Anna, and I write historical and historical-adjacent romance. We’ll get to the adjacent part in a minute. Right now, I want to focus on the big picture. Why historical romance? My first instinct is that I was hardwired that way. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawn to times before living memory, though I will grant that, when one is five or so, everything falls into that category, by default. As for the romance part of things, I think I was hardwired for that, as well, because my favorite stories were always the fairy tales with a romance plot to them, even long before I had any inkling that the opposite sex could be anything even remotely close to appealing. I also preferred the more arguably obscure fairy tales, like “Donkeyskin” to any of the Disney versions (Sorry, Walt) and checked out an entire spectrum of Andrew Lang’s fairy tale collections (and wee princess me is now all, “hold on, there are more beyond the color-themed books? I must have them!” because, of course, I must.)

Though I didn’t know the concept of shipping back then, (again, five) in retrospect, I shipped Greek, Roman and Norse gods and goddesses, cartoon characters, and couples in fairy tales and folklore. I’ve often wondered if my birth mother liked romance fiction, too, if, maybe, we’ve ever read and loved any of the same books. I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe romance, and storytelling, really is in my blood. I’ve written before about how much fun it is to listen to SF/F fans and writers talk about how they fell in love with their genre of choice, hear their origin stories, as it were, and I would love to shine more light on that same experience with readers and writers of romance, particularly historical. Let’s face it, historical romance rocks.

In the same book, we get a peek into the past, the chance to step into a world that we know existed (because, duh, history; we’ve got proof) and a story literally as old as time, and we know that there’s going to be a happily ever after at the end (or a happy for now, in serialized works) but the big question is…how? We know things weren’t as easy for those in the past as they are now; indoor plumbing is a relatively recent invention, and modern medical advances keep a lot of us on the right side of the dirt. That’s not even taking into account things like the internet, gummi bears, and Sephora. I love all of those things, and I’m glad I have them in my life, but when I’m going to dive into story world, nothing is ever going to do it the way historical romance does.

Whether or not actual historical figures come into play, the historical world is critical to the historical romance. How does the time in which these lovers lived affect their falling in love, and their chances for a future together? For my money, it’s not possible to take a couple from Ancient Rome, for example, plop them down in 1901 Texas, and have their love story play out exactly the same way. It can’t. The pieces of the puzzle are completely different, and yet, the objective is the same; finding that one person with whom they want to spend the rest of their lives and then making that happen, no matter what obstacles stand in their way. I’d be hard pressed to find a type of story I find more empowering than that. I can’t even count all the possible variations of setting, era, character type, plot trope, and a million other variables, all of which can be combined in countless ways. It really never is the same story twice.

Right now, those of us in the US, and elsewhere, but I’m in the US, so that’s where I can speak with most authenticity, live in interesting times. Since current events do affect writing and reading trends, I have asked myself if we’re headed for a surge in historical romance. A break from modern life may be exactly what some of us need to restore our resources, live a few adventures and come back, entertained and empowered, to handle the business of day to day life. Which, I should mention, is exactly what the heroes and heroines of historical romances are doing. They don’t know they’re in a historical; they think they’re in a contemporary, because Restoration England, or the American Civil War, Harlem Renaissance, etc? Those are their nows. They don’t know how their current events are going to turn out, if the war is going to go their way, if life will ever be the same again after disease or disaster upsets the routine they’ve always known up to that point. What they do know, however?

They do know love. They know, by the end of the book, that, whatever life throws at them from here on out, they won’t be facing it alone. They have someone by their side who is going to take them exactly as they are, for better and for worse, and they’re going to face it together. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me, and that’s why I do what I do.

Why Historical Romance?

annabowling Leave a comment

Hi. My name is Anna, and I write historical and historical-adjacent romance. We’ll get to the adjacent part in a minute. Right now, I want to focus on the big picture. Why historical romance? My first instinct is that I was hardwired that way. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawn to times before living memory, though I will grant that, when one is five or so, everything falls into that category, by default. As for the romance part of things, I think I was hardwired for that, as well, because my favorite stories were always the fairy tales with a romance plot to them, even long before I had any inkling that the opposite sex could be anything even remotely close to appealing. I also preferred the more arguably obscure fairy tales, like “Donkeyskin” to any of the Disney versions (Sorry, Walt) and checked out an entire spectrum of Andrew Lang’s fairy tale collections (and wee princess me is now all, “hold on, there are more beyond the color-themed books? I must have them!” because, of course, I must.)

Though I didn’t know the concept of shipping back then, (again, five) in retrospect, I shipped Greek, Roman and Norse gods and goddesses, cartoon characters, and couples in fairy tales and folklore. I’ve often wondered if my birth mother liked romance fiction, too, if, maybe, we’ve ever read and loved any of the same books. I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe romance, and storytelling, really is in my blood. I’ve written before about how much fun it is to listen to SF/F fans and writers talk about how they fell in love with their genre of choice, hear their origin stories, as it were, and I would love to shine more light on that same experience with readers and writers of romance, particularly historical. Let’s face it, historical romance rocks.

In the same book, we get a peek into the past, the chance to step into a world that we know existed (because, duh, history; we’ve got proof) and a story literally as old as time, and we know that there’s going to be a happily ever after at the end (or a happy for now, in serialized works) but the big question is…how? We know things weren’t as easy for those in the past as they are now; indoor plumbing is a relatively recent invention, and modern medical advances keep a lot of us on the right side of the dirt. That’s not even taking into account things like the internet, gummi bears, and Sephora. I love all of those things, and I’m glad I have them in my life, but when I’m going to dive into story world, nothing is ever going to do it the way historical romance does.

Whether or not actual historical figures come into play, the historical world is critical to the historical romance. How does the time in which these lovers lived affect their falling in love, and their chances for a future together? For my money, it’s not possible to take a couple from Ancient Rome, for example, plop them down in 1901 Texas, and have their love story play out exactly the same way. It can’t. The pieces of the puzzle are completely different, and yet, the objective is the same; finding that one person with whom they want to spend the rest of their lives and then making that happen, no matter what obstacles stand in their way. I’d be hard pressed to find a type of story I find more empowering than that. I can’t even count all the possible variations of setting, era, character type, plot trope, and a million other variables, all of which can be combined in countless ways. It really never is the same story twice.

Right now, those of us in the US, and elsewhere, but I’m in the US, so that’s where I can speak with most authenticity, live in interesting times. Since current events do affect writing and reading trends, I have asked myself if we’re headed for a surge in historical romance. A break from modern life may be exactly what some of us need to restore our resources, live a few adventures and come back, entertained and empowered, to handle the business of day to day life. Which, I should mention, is exactly what the heroes and heroines of historical romances are doing. They don’t know they’re in a historical; they think they’re in a contemporary, because Restoration England, or the American Civil War, Harlem Renaissance, etc? Those are their nows. They don’t know how their current events are going to turn out, if the war is going to go their way, if life will ever be the same again after disease or disaster upsets the routine they’ve always known up to that point. What they do know, however?

They do know love. They know, by the end of the book, that, whatever life throws at them from here on out, they won’t be facing it alone. They have someone by their side who is going to take them exactly as they are, for better and for worse, and they’re going to face it together. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me, and that’s why I do what I do.

The Year So Far

annabowling 2 Comments

Maybe three days is a wee bit soon to be looking at a year in review, but maybe it’s also a good way to make sure things are going according to plan. Monday, I planned my day to a fare-thee-well, though I did not put “take picture of planner page” on my to-do list, and my phone is, at the moment, at the other end of the house, so you’re going to have to take my word on that one. Having all my tasks laid out in advance actually felt like a huge relief. My critique session with N, on Tuesday, was right there, so, by gum, I was going to have pages to hand in to her.

Never mind that, as soon as I opened the file, the scene told me it wanted to open differently than the way I had it, and I didn’t have the description of the room right -I’d picked the wrong details, as one often does in a first draft- and this could be so much better. Cue furious typing, followed by furious backspacing, followed by more furious typing, followed by the uttering of indelicate language when Housemate’s arrival marked the end of the session, and it was time to wrap things up so we could head to the library to print (because I have reached the end of my abilities in trying to find what the heck the printer wants before it will cough up my pages, and it is now time to call in the pros.) Which is when we remembered the library would be closed, for the holiday. No problem, off to Staples we went. Awesome worker saw they were manuscript pages and told me not to worry about the cost. I take this as a sign. (Probably that she needed to help another customer, but allow me my  moment.)

Back when I lived in the Old Country, and attended a weekly critique group, when a crit went especially well, I would spend the ride home feeling as though I were flying. The same thing would happen when a once-upon-a-time friend and I would critique through snail mail. That this is why I am alive feeling, that isn’t followed by I’ll never do this or everybody else is better than me, but by mental self-fives and victory laps and a desire to do nothing else but get right back to that story as soon as humanly possible and go, go, go. That one. I had it again. Good feedback from N, who also has the start of a most excellent romance novel her own self, and it left me with that flying feeling, a good thing to have when I walked into a small domestic tornado, but no biggie. I got story going on here. Well, stories, but that’s not the important part.

The important part happened Monday afternoon, when I realized I’d missed a big opportunity to make Hero’s first appearance show who he was when the story started, and I had a ticking clock on how much time I had in which to fix that. Which is when the whole brain outlook thing shifts and forget everything else; I am fixing this scene clicks into place. The thing where the writer growls at family members who dare to interrupt, where “yes” or “no” both get substituted with “when I’m done with this scene.” Because, at that moment, the real world is that scene. I like when that happens.

Something else happened this week. When I checked yesterday’s mail, I found this literally on my doorstep:

beatrizwilliamsbook

That sound is my heart going pitty-pat, because Beatriz Williams is one of my all-time favorite authors, and this is an ARC of her newest trip back to the 1920s (and 90s,) The Wicked City. Double pitty-pat, because, along with the gorgeous period-perfect (these books are my historical verisimilitude goals) postcards, was a personal note:

beatrizwilliamsnote

I still haven’t decided if this is going in an art journal or in a frame on my office wall, but it’s inspiration in more ways than one. My very first exposure to the historical romance genre was Bertrice Small. Before her marriage to George Small, Bertrice Small was Bertrice Williams. I know there’s no connection. (Maybe Beatriz Williams read a Bertrice Small novel at some point; I don’t know. Maybe she hasn’t.)  Beatriz is a form of the name Beatrice (I am also a name nerd in addition to being a historical romance nerd; I have been collecting name books since I was eight) and Bertrice is a created name, to honor one of that esteemed lady’s beloved relatives. There’s not a connection, but there is, for me.

Both women are authors whose storytelling and ability to make the historical eras in which they write feel as real and immediate as the modern day. They do/have done what I want to do, give readers an entire world, populated by people of its time, and make them feel the story in a real and visceral manner, rather than observe it from afar. Like I said, goals. The name nerd in me likes that the two names are similar, and having a personal note, well, that’s extra special. Pretty sure, now, that this baby is going on the wall, over my desk, so I can see it every day.

Three days into the new year, I have a system in place that lets me know what I’m doing and the time I have in which to accomplish it. I don’t have to write a whole book (and a half) at one time, only this one scene, and I have my list of things the scene has to do, right here at hand. So far, so good. Now for the next 362 days.

Typing With Wet Claws: New Year’s Eve Eve Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday, the last one of 2016. This has been -well, it still is, because it is not over yet- Anty’s tucked away week, and it is going pretty well, all thing considered. Anty likes to use this time to collect herself and rest and refill her creative well, so that she can come into the new year at her best. So far, so good. Right now, it is snowing, which is Anty’s favorite weather of all time. Anty loves snow, so it makes her very happy to have some during her favorite week of the year.

Even though Anty likes to relax during her tucked away week, that does not mean she does not write things. She has actually been doing a fair amount of writing things. Let me share some of them with you. First, as always, she is at Buried Under Romance, and this time, she is talking about favorite holiday reads. One reader who commented is reading the holiday book that is up next on Anty’s list. Anty will take that as a recommendation. The post is here and it looks like this:

bur2dec16

Anty has been doing a lot of reading during this tucked away week, which was her plan all along, so that is a good thing. It is also part of her plan to share her reviews on Goodreads more. This week, she posted four of them. That is a lot for a kitty to screencap, but I will do my best. There will only be three pictures, because Anty forgot to write a review for one of them. Oops. I apologize on her behalf (also for the greatest hits photo of me, because A) I am camera shy today, B) Anty has a lot to do, even if it is tucked away week, and C) the spare picture of me she had in reserve in case I was camera shy, which I am today, is stuck in a Gmail queue and won’t send, so you get this one again.)

Anty’s review for A Pirate for Christmas, by Anna Campbell is here, and it looks like this:

pirateforchristmas

Her review for The Fox and The Angel, by Danelle Harmon, is here, and it looks like this:

foxandangel

Her review for We Know It Was You, by Maggie Thrash, is here, and it looks like this:

weknewitwasyou

Anty also read What Light, by Jay Asher, but she has not written a review for that one yet. I do not know why, because it has romance and a troubled hero and it is set in the world of Christmas trees. She will probably get to that later, because leaving reviews is not only good for the reader, or for other readers, but for the author as well. If you have read any of Anty’s books and would like to leave a review, her “I Wrote It” shelf is here

Now that it is New Year’s Eve Eve, the day before the last day of the entire year, Anty’s focus begins a shift from relaxation toward action. That means she is looking at what she can do when the new year begins. Normally, she and Mama (and sometimes Uncle, if he has the time off from work) get in the car and go a long way, to spend the day with some friends at a book swap. Humans do not have to bring a book to the party (Anty always does. Sometimes, she brings a lot.) but that party got postponed this year, so it will happen at another time. That means a couple of things.

First, it means that Anty does not have to go away, and she can spend all day home with me. I think that is a reason to celebrate right there. Anty will probably leave the house at some point, because, although I fill her kitty meter, she also has to fill her people meter. That is okay, though, because I know she will come home. The other thing that Anty spending the day here instead of away will mean, is that she needs to come up with a plan for how she is going to spend that day.

Anty does well with plans. She likes plans. That is one of the reason she collects notebooks, so that she can plan things out in them, and write about what she is going to write, before she writes it. Trust me, if she  tries to skip that step, it will not turn out well for anybody. Since Anty has not spent any time with Netflix yet this week, she will probably watch at least one movie on New Year’s Day. She has not decided which one yet, or maybe some special episodes of a favorite TV show or two. What is important is that she need to take in story, so that she can put out story.

This is especially important because of something she will be starting this week. This week, Anty and Miss N are putting themselves on a schedule, or having pages to show to each other every week. Back when we lived in the old country, Anty met every week with Anty Melva and Anty Michele, and Anty knew that, when Wednesday night came along, she had better have some pages, and she made sure that she did. Anty does very well with outside pressure like that. I would not recommend getting too close to her if it is a couple of hours before critique time and she does not have her pages yet, because she gets snarly when she does all that furious typing stuff. Better to wait that out under the bed or somewhere else that is safe like that. When things get to that point, all she cares about is getting the pages ready for her critique partners to see, so best to leave her alone and let her get that done, if you want to end the day with the same amount of body parts you had when you got up that morning.

Anty is also still on the hunt for a historical romance critique partner, someone who reads historical romance and writes it, and loves it the very, very mostestest. The way she figures it, she misses one hundred percent of the shots she does not take, so she is going to be very noisy about that for a while. By “for a while,” I mean until she finds a historical romance critique partner, so if you do not want to keep hearing about that, please consider spreading the word, or getting in touch, if you want one, too.

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

 

skyebye

Until next week…

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

 

 

 

 

There Are No Reading Police

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I had plans for today’s blog entry, and I am going to ignore most of them. Apparently, the fact that I have them is enough for me to dive in with some measure of confidence, so will file that away for future use. Today, I’m snappish and grumpy, which is a sign of not enough sleep and feeling crowded, so, after I get this off my plate, it is time for a big ol’ mug of tea and some time in Sims 4. First, though, you get this.

Yesterday, Housemate and I went to the library. I headed straight to the romance section, and, within minutes, had my arms full of these:

 

tbr281216.jpg

“Nothing to read” will never be one of my problems.

Okay, not all of these. The last four. Use On the Jellicoe Road as the dividing line. That’s my third time trying to get into that one, and this time, I am going to make it. I get bogged down in the first fifty pages, but I’ve been told it’s worth it to make it through, so this is the time. :raises fist to sky (not Skye) for emphasis: That was another trip, though. This one was only for romance novels. One anthology, What Happens Under The Mistletoe, because I am helpless in the face of Christmas anthologies during the tucked away week (I am reading one right now on my Kindle, as a matter of fact) and it jumped off the shelf, recognizing its mistress. Okay, I saw Meredith Duran’s name on the cover. That helped. The Highlander, by Kerrigan Byrne, whose voice and use of emotion made me weep when I first discovered her, and the latest two installments in Elizabeth Hoyt’s Maiden Lane story world. (A book for Alf, finally, at last, pace yourself, girl, you have to read the other one first.) Respectable hunting trip, this one, especially as I hadn’t been expecting to take home anything at all, but that’s how these things tend to go this time of year.

My first thought, when I walked out of the library with four books in my bag was, “wow, their security is lax.” Uhhh, no, that wasn’t it. Don’t steal library books. Check them out. My actual first thought was “I have no right taking out four new books.” Because I have a full TBR shelf at home. Because I have a fully loaded Kindle. Because I have a storage unit with oodles of books in it. Because I have books yet to read for posts I am committed to write for other sites. because I am behind, oh woe, so behiiiiiind (please read that last word with an echo, if you can) on my own writing, as well as reading goals. Because a million things, really, but then my second thought cut off my first one.

My second thought was, “forget that. I have every right.” I have every right to read whatever books I want, whenever I want to read them. I have every right to drown myself in historical romance, should I want to do so (and I totally do) and gobble more, more, more, more, until it oozes out of my pores and onto the pages I create. There are no reading police (and, if there are, I do not recognize their authority.) Read what you want, when you want, however you want it. Nobody else has to like it. Probably, nobody else cares. Maybe those who follow me on Goodreads (I’m here) or read my posts on this blog and other sites, but that’s it.

There are no reading police. Whatever genre you love, great. Read it. Breathe it. Gobble it. Swim in it. While I stood there in the romance section, a trio of teenage girls stood behind me, in a nearby section, giggling over how silly the books in that section were to them, to the point of grabbing books and giving each other playful shoves. Even with all that, they left with at least one book, even if it looked “dumb” to them, or if they wanted others to think they found that sort of book beneath them. Part of me wanted to turn around, take the “dumb” book from them, flip it over to read the blurb, and say it looked interesting; I’d take it if they didn’t want it.

I didn’t do that, as A) I had enough books of my own, and wanted to get home and decide in which order to read them (hint: it’s depicted in the image above) and B) hey, these young women are reading. When I was their age, I lived with a single father, who was adamantly against the romance genre on principle, but it called to me and I answered the call, and have never regretted that for one single second. I remember what it was like to sneak around the library, tucking what historical romances I could find from the spinner racks under my arm. I don’t know these young women, I don’t know what brought them to that section, if this is a new genre they are exploring, or one they already love, but think others might form opinions of them for it. I don’t know what the “dumb” book is, or if they really do read books to mock them, but I do know how I felt, walking downstairs with my own carefully chosen haul.

 

I felt more complete, as though I’d gone to the shelf, found pieces of myself that I’d been missing, and put them back into place. Maybe that’s what these young women were doing, whether they knew it or not. It’s none of my business what they read or why they read it (unless they are reading my books,. which they totally should do, because there’s a new Kat Von D palette at Sephora, but that’s beside the point) but I’m glad they were there. Read on, heroines of tomorrow. Whatever the heck you want.

Boxing Day Blather

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Day after Christmas, and I missed the opportunity to cue “Brick,” by Ben Folds, at exactly six AM, which is kind of a tradition with me, but the world has not ended, so I think that is a good thing. We are now officially in my favorite week of the year, the tucked away week, between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Time for reflecting and refilling -I am currently watching a favorite movie, Music and Lyrics, which fits in nicely with the whole reflecting thing and new beginnings thing, the whole romance thing,  and very  much the whole writing thing in general, as well as the whole picking oneself up and getting back in the game thing.

That’s a lot of things, which makes it a good choice to fill the post-holiday space.  Right now, I am under a comfy blanket, full of delicious chopped steak and cheesy baked potato, hot chocolate and salted caramel chip cookies waiting for me on the other side of this entry. I very strongly prefer to have some idea of what I’m going to write when I begin a blog entry,  but I’d also like to get stronger at the entries where I need to wing it. Those are always going to happen, so I may as well find a way to have fun with them, make them more interesting to write, and, hopefully, to read.

Boxing Day, as we do it, is a day for relaxing, staying out of the demands of everyday life, so that, when it’s time to go back, we’re refreshed and ready to take on the new year. This year, my emphasis is specifically on writing. Which means that I need to take in stories, in whatever forms I can get them -TV, movies, books, music, gameplay- and get that creative well filled. What works for me, and why? What doesn’t, and why doesn’t it? It also means I need to do other creative things that don’t involve writing. Baking cookies works well on this front, as does making art, in whatever form. I’ve noticed that I haven’t been making a lot of art lately, and that needs to change, as it’s an intrinsic piece of the puzzle.

Back when I was ten, my Christmas haul included two books: Are You There, God?  It’s Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume, and Harriet the Spy, by Louise Fitzhugh. I felt insanely rich, getting two books at the same time, and spent what felt like a really long time ensconced in my dad’s yellow armchair, trying to decide which one to read first. That was one hard decision, and it did not occur to me at the time that I could read both at once, alternating chapters, or moving between them at will, but hey, I was ten. What I do remember is that I spent most of the rest of that day reading one, and tore into the other as soon as I was finished. Probably not my first chain-read, and very much not my last, but when I think of Christmas and Boxing Day and books, that’s the image that comes most readily to mind.

I still remember Margaret and Harriet after all these years. Margaret was at the age where she’d started to discover an interest in boys, while Harriet had other concerns. Neither book was a romance, and it would be about a year before I would sneak The Kadin from my mother’s nightstand, so I had not yet discovered the romance genre or imprinted upon it. Still, I gravitated toward fairy tales that were both on the darker side and had love stories that turned out well for both parties. That hasn’t changed, which may be why I am hunkered down in long-sleeved t-shirt and pajama pants, watching a love story, writing about writing love stories, with paperback and Kindle at hand. Kindle, of course, chockablock full of romance novels, the vast majority of which are historical.

Today marks a week of tucking in with love stories, wherever they might lurk. Going over the good parts -in Music and Lyrics, for instance, the scene at the amusement park, where Sophie convinces Alex to go onstage and perform the encore he doesn’t want to perform, because he is a grumpy old badger. She slips into the crowd and goes all fangirl on him, waving her flip phone (does that make it a period piece now?) and swaying to the music, and darned if she doesn’t coax the performance out of him.

That’s a huge part of what the tucked away week is for, this year. I love the romance genre, a place where the only rules -the only ones- are that the love story has to be central, and the ending optimistic; happily ever after, in most cases, or happy for now (possibly for younger protagonists and/or grumpy badgers.) I tend to go for the first version, but even that’s not all rainbows and unicorns. I write historical romance, so we know that stuff is going to be coming for the lovers in my books; wars, natural disasters, state of the art eighteenth century medical technology and all that fun stuff, but the important thing is that the lovers are going to have each other, so they can take on whatever comes their way in the future. They’ll be together, and that’s enough. Which means immersing myself in romance is a pretty darned good way to wrap up the year, as well as start out the new one.

For today, it’s movies, books, hot beverages, baked goods, Christmas lights, and a dedicated mews (with occasional breaks to play bubbles with her, but I’ll let her talk about that in her next blog.) to keep me on track.

Typing With Wet Claws: Christmas Eve Eve Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Today is Christmas Eve Eve, the day before the day before Anty’s favorite day of the year. it is also the birthday of a fictional character that has lived in her head a really, really long time and probably wants to get into a book at some point. Anty thinks about things like this a lot. Today, Uncle is helping me hold still for my picture because I kept moving around when Anty tried to get the picture. I did not mind much, because that meant I got Uncle scritches. He gives the very best ones, because he is my Uncle.

Before I talk about anything else, like the fact that I peed on my catnip mouse -I did not actually pee on the mouse, but it did sustain collateral damage. I will talk about that later.- I have to talk about what Anty wrote this week, because that is our deal. As always, Anty has her Saturday Discussion post at Buried Under Romance. This week, her topic was the big books, the ones that don’t have to go on a coffee table because they could be the coffee table, they are that thick. Unless they are e-books, then they are a file, and I do not know of any coffee tables that are files. Except fot the ones in the Sims games, because those whole worlds are files. I think. Anyway, Anty’s post is here, and it looks like this:

 

burbigbooks

Anty likes big books and she cannot lie…

Speaking of big books, Anty read a couple more this week, and then wrote about them on Goodreads. One of those books was The Twelve Days of Dash and Lily, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. It is a YA book, and the sequel to Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares, which is one of Anty’s all time favorite YA books, and one of her favorite Christmas books, which means she was very happy to learn that this book existed, and even happier to read it. Her review can be found here, and it looks like this:

12daysdashlily

 

 

Anty also read Dark Champion, by Jo Beverley, which is a medieval historical romance. Jo Beverley only wrote four medieval novels. Most of her other books are Georgian, which Anty loves, and Regency, which is very popular, so having these medieval is a real treat for Anty. You can read her review here, and it looks like this:

darkchampionbeverley

Anty has also been working on her own books, of course, but I am not allowed to post parts of those here. That is for after they are done and published. Then that would be called “excerpts.” Writers like when people (and kitties, I assume) share excerpts of their work. Maybe I can do that with the books Anty already has out, in the new year.

Right now, it is still the old year, and Anty is getting ready to celebrate all that comes along with that, for humans and kitties alike. This is the part where I can talk about whatever I want. I will start with the catnip mouse part. Regular readers will know that I have special paws, so I do not climb or jump (I am okay, though, and I can walk and run and play perfectly fine.) I do not like to use a litterbox, because I do not like the sides, so I picked a special spot on the floor to do my liquid stuff, and that is the only place I do it. Ever. I am very consistent about that.

Because the house we live in was built a very, very long time ago, (if Anty wrote a book set in the year our house was built, it would count as a historical) the floors slant, and, sometimes, when I make my liquid stuff, it flows in a downward direction. That is what happened this time, and, this time, the catnip mousie Anty got me got caught in the flow. This was not a big deal to me, because I do not care about catnip, and I do not care about toys that do not move. If a toy is moving, the it is fun to catch it. If it is not, then meh. Where’s the challenge in hunting prey that is already dead? That is why Anty and Uncle are talking about getting me toys that move on their own, or with help from my humans. I will be interested to see what sorts of toys those are. I suppose I will find out on Christmas morning.

This is the part where I relate something in my week to the business of writing. That is one of the duties of a good mews, and I want to be a very good mews. What stands out to me most is the part about prey. Sometimes, a writer will have an idea that will only go so far. After it stops moving, and it will not start moving again, it might then be time for the writer to find something that is still alive and work on that. If a fictional character, for example, is still hanging around the writer’s head after double digit years have passed, that might be a good place to start. Right now, Anty has plenty that is moving on its own, but if she gets stuck after that, she will know where to look.

Anty says it is time to wrap things up because she needs the computer now, so I guess that is about it for this week. Whatever holiday you are celebrating (or have celebrated) this season, I hope that it is (or was) a good one. I will share all about ours next week. Until next week, happy holidays, and I remain very truly yours,

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

skyebye