writing

4/21/22

annabowling 1 Comment

No catchy title this time, because there is literally nobody but me stopping me from playing Sims 4 24/7. This is one of those places where just because you can doesn’t mean that you should (and I hate using “you” like that, but “one” feels too formal, so will deal with it for the moment.) Moderation is the key here, because my first grade teacher really was onto something and as I did far, far better when I brought Barbie dolls for free play period, having a Sims save open, into which I can dip occasionally to let my brain cook the actual fiction when I’m not looking, actually does work.

Another thing that helps is having voices on in the background while I work. Lately, I have been listening to true crime on YouTube when not actually composing new pages, but it’s good for the admin/social media stuff. Am I retaining much of it? Nope. Am I paying attention? Ehhhh….occasionally? Lately, I have been picking by the voice of the narrator. Seems to be working. It’s the sound of the voice, not the words it is saying, similar to channels I listen to when going to sleep. Thought I hated when my mom used to tell me that once I got started doing a thing, I’d want to keep doing it, I now know she was right. Smart woman. She had it pegged super early on; guess first grade was a landmark.

Anyway, what I originally wanted to say was that writing fiction is a funny thing. One minute, I’m talking how romance novels were when I first discovered he genre, which leads to figuring out that my current historical hero had ADHD, though of course nobody knew that in 1784, which leads to blabbering a verbal sludge about the WIP, which then leads to The Thing that was holding the whole MS captive, and then I’m researching Catherine the Great (of Russia) and making a chart so that I can have a ready reference of how far and fast one can travel by coach.

I have also had words with Storm about blogging with regularity. We’d both like to do better with that. I am not entirely sure why I stopped taking pictures (and sharing them) and maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe what matters is picking the picture taking device and starting again.

A black, white, and orange calico cat lays on a red and black buffalo plaid blanket, looking directly at the camera with a guilt-inducing expression
“Pictures, Mama Anna. Now. Preferably of me.”

Cats are always appropriate. Please ignore her disgruntled expression. She’s usually much more chipper than that, and extremely invested in my writing. The more of it I finish, the more I can sell, and the more I sell, the more catnip I can buy. Isn’t that what’s most important? It’s all about the catnip. Oh, and butting on the big girl panties and doing scary things like making time for journaling and buddy-watching This is Us with friends who are similarly not okay with the Kate and Toby split. Like most things, it feels easier if I can talk about it. You have been warned.

An attractive young adult female Sim blows a kiss at the viewer.
This also applies to Sims

How’s it going where you are?

Anna

Rainy Afternoon Rambles

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Raining off and on over here, as best I can tell. Today was the day when my new sleep medication figured out what it was supposed to do, so let’s say I am very well rested today. I hear birdsong and the sound of wheels on wet pavement, and a quick look outside tells me it has indeed rained. It’s been a hot while since I blogged. That happens sometimes. The best way to get back into it is to jump in there and start blabbering, so here we are.

Okay. First of all, I am still not ready for Kate and Toy’s split on This is Us. They are one of my ships. These things take time Shoot, it took me what, a couple of years to watch the Highlander TV series finale. Either the right time will roll around or it won’t. Either way, there is always fanfic if it turns out that’s what I need. I do plan to watch the rest of the farewell season, but don’t necessarily need a front row seat for everything. Has anybody else had an experience like that with a beloved series, book or TV?

Second, I am pretty much listening to “Don’t Tell Anyone,” by Semler, on repeat:

“I want to know your story like I wrote the page” — them’s powerful words for a writer. Also “Don’t tell them that I swore this wouldn’t be my life.” Also, the tune is as catchy as a cold at a daycare center. I mean that in the very best way.

Wait, wait, wait, did I just hear thunder? Because I think I just heard thunder. Thunderstorms are my number one favorite spring/summer weather. I am absolutely here for it if so.

So Wondrous Free
Maryhelen Clague

Oh man oh man oh man, this book. This hit me in the feels and my history loving heart. I was but a wee princess in Westchester County, NY during the Bicentennial, so a historical romance set in that era and place is one thousand percent going to catch my attention. Also, it was part of the giant birthday haul from my friend, Mary, who knows me and my historical romance reading tastes. For those who only know the modern flavor of historical romance, I might shelve this in historical fiction with romantic elements, and it works very well that way too. I don’t recall any on page snugglies, but our heroine, Nabby, must choose between two dashing men, one Patriot, one Loyalist, during a freaking revolution. More of that, please. I want to make there be more of that.

A young adult female Sim, with long blue hair and tattoos, stands in front of a white wall and wooden door, pointing to something out o frame.

Then there’s Sims. Sims, for me, is the current-day equivalent of my first-grade teacher noting that my schoolwork was MUCH better if I brought dolls to play with during free play time. I never thought I would get as into it as I am, not only playing the game, but creating my own Sims, with tons of custom content, mods, and even learning how to make my own custom content. Not sure how that is going to turn out, but I am looking forward to finding out. It seems to be doing well for my writing, so a-Simming I will go. Picture editing is next, because I love taking screenshots. Does anybody have any experiences with Lightroom? I’ve been curious. I’m already down the ReShade rabbit hole. May as well go all in on the visuals, though the next step does seem to mean ponying up for photo editing software. I’d use it, though, soooo….we shall see.

One more thing. There is now a window open, and there is fresh air coming through that window onto my skin as I sit here in a white t-shirt stolen from Real Life Romance Hero’s stash. Yep. It’s spring.

Anna

Typing With Wet Paws: Dresser Climbing 101 Edition

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Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. It’s been a big week around here, and for a few reasons. First of all, I have been having the BEST time with Aunt Linda’s new mattress. It is something called Memory Foam, and it’s super fun to play on. It is a bit of a challenge because Aunt Linda is on vacation this week, and she picked the best place in the world to go: here, as in our home. It’s pretty great. The mattress also came with a big, long box, which I have thoroughly investigated. It is so long, as a matter of fact, that the humans have to store it upright until it goes to recycling, but rest assured, I have been all the way down to the end of it and back out and it was awesome. 10/10, would explore again.

Chilling on my cat tree

You’re probably wondering about the dresser climbing. I am getting to that. In doing so, I will have to talk about Mama Anna’s writing. She will probably like that. Cool. So, anyway, my house, aka big cardboard box, is next to Mama Anna’s desk, and in front of Mama Anna and Papa’s dresser. They keep people clothes in it (and catnip in the third drawer.) Well. For a while now I have been letting Mama Anna know that I would like some catnip, please, by scratching at the drawer where she keeps that catnip. She is usually pretty quick on the uptake.

Where she might be lagging a tiny tad is that I also have another agenda: I want to get to the top of the dresser. Mama Anna says that she and Papa keep things that are Not For Kitties up there, but I am not discouraged. A couple of nights ago, Mama Anna was playing Sims, and Papa was playing his game. I saw my chance. By the time she noticed what I was doing, I had all four paws (plus my tail) off the box (of my house)and was headed upward, reaching for the next drawer up.

Mama Anna told me “NO” and she was so loud that Papa and Aunt Linda came to see what I was doing. Pap was kind of proud of me, but he still didn’t want me to be on top of the dresser because of the Not For Kitties things. (they are things like medicine to help Papa stop smoking)

So flash forward a couple of days later, when Mama Anna has her weekly chat with Aunt Mary. One rthing you need to know about Aunt Mary (besides that she has excellent taste in kittycats and gives the best special mouse toy presents) is that she is very smart when it comes to historical research, as in the stuff that really did happen. She and Mama Anna talked for almost double their regular time this week, part of that being Mama Anna blabbering about one of her historical manuscripts to Aunt Mary, and then

Photo by Burak Kebapci on Pexels.com

Mama Anna was telling Aunt Mary that she was debating one of two ways to have a Thing happen in this particular book. Since it is a Thing in a time period Aunt Mary is familiar with, they had a lot to say about this. In the middle of it, Mama Anna stopped because IDEA. If Character left a Thing that was happening Right Then to go make sure Another Character was okay (she wasn’t) then it is obviously a Day Things Can Happen, so Character and Other Character can do a Thing, too. Aha. Then it was a bunch fo names and dates and family trees. I can’t make sense of much of it, but I know Mama Anna was really super happy about it, and she made a LOT of notes afterwards. Now Aunt Mary is her historical research consultant. Aunt Mary gets to name the occasional supporting character as thanks for her work.

It was also during this long chat that Aunt Mary snitched to Mama Anna when she saw my ears and paws come into frame, aka preparation for ascent on Mt. Dresser. So now I have another pair of eyes on me. No matter. They all have to sleep sometime. Where’s your favorite napping spot?

Headbonks!

Storm

Strange Connections

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First of all, I may possibly have Irish blood. I think. My birth mother’s last name could be of English or Irish origin, so we can be fairly sure it’s some sort of British Isles or thereabouts in my bio-ancestry. This has very little to do with today’s blog, except for the fact that A) it’s a starting point for me to blabber, B) I remember being at the house of MJK, well, she was nine, like me, so it was her parents’ home. It was a Victorian house with three stories and a wraparound porch and a triple (or quadruple?) garage that used to be a stable. They still called it the barn. No horses, only cars and a lawnmower, I remember being disappointed about that, even though we were in the middle of a lovely town in Westchester County.

MJK and I went to CCD together (after school religious classes for Catholic kids in public school) The Catholic school was closer to the K family’s house than to mine, so there were times Mama MJK would pick us both up and my mom would come get me from there. Also, my mom and Mama MJK got along well, so they probably considered it convenient that their kids got along, too. As for MJK’s little brother, SK, eh, he was a couple years younger, an energetic lad. All of this comes to mind because I was there on March 17th that year, and we thought it was absolutely hysterical that the weather for the St. Patrick’s Day parade in NYC (I have a lot of initials in this post) did not fit with the season as we saw it. Snow. I remember seeing women holding some sort of banner, in shiny green leotards and I am going to guess pantyhose/nude tights.

We must have seen it on TV or in the newspaper, and I want to say it was the Big Thing for that afternoon. It’s funny the things that stay with us. Right now, I am reading The Woman Behind the Attic, by Andrew Neiderman (aka the VC Andrews ghostwrite. for the last few decades)

Official VC Andrews Biography

While I can’t say I am a fan of the ghostwritten books, the true Andrews canon has a special place in my heart. I remember it being passed around the halls of my school when the books first came out, and even though Foxworth Hall from the Dollenganger series (Jacobean mansion) or Whitefern, from My Sweet Audrina, probably have extremely little with the house I lived in when MJK and I went to CCD together, my brain insists on slotting rooms from that house into those stories. The attic ofr the Flowers in the Attic fame, will always first call to mind my father’s art studio which was also my playroom, and not an attic at all, but the window that looked out on the woods beyond somehow melded with the window on the cover of the book. Don’t ask me how this happens. I don’t make the rules.

For Whitefern, I will need to reread Audrina to remember what the house looked like, but the stairs, on which Important Things Happen will always be the L-shaped stairs from the second story of my childhood home (where the studio/playroom was.) I have no idea how my brain connected those things, as I was several years out of that house when I read those books, but it’s in there, and in there deep. like the memory f being in that kitchen on that day, and the sting of witch hazel on my scraped knee (not the same day, I don’t think, but that same room) or the fun memory games MJK’s dad would incorporate into her birthday parties. The staircase going up all three stories also inserted itself in my reading of Diana Gabaldon’s comments in her Outlander companion, about here being an hombre at the door.

Long story short, writer’s minds are messy places. Aladdin’s caves. There’s also the fact that one of my research rabbit holes is rebooted or spun-off TV shows and their lore. Who knows where that will end up? Wherever it is, I look forward to the journey.

How about you?

Anna

Is This Thing On? aka signs of life

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:taps mic: Is this thing on? Okay. Hi, or hi again. I have been pill-bugging (has nothing to do with unauthorized medication, but rather emulating a pillbug insect, aka laying low) Those who have taken Depression and/or Anxiety 101, you’ll recognize this. Anyhoo, hi. Today’s task is to write a blog entry, so here we are. It’s a cold, slightly cloudy day here in NY’s Capitol Region, though because it is now March, it is also pre-spring. I am normally a fall and winter gal, but I am quite happy to say buh-bye to this past winter. This is a fancy way of saying that I am in spring cleaning mode.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

For today, that means putting away laundry and making some sense of my writing area, which, like Real Life Romance Hero’s office area, is in our bedroom. I am also eyeing a corner for a potential comfy chair because I sorely miss having a comfy reading chair, and one of my big goals for this spring is to get back to a normal reading and writing routine. Melva and I are moving forward with Queen of Hearts, having a lovely time of it, and she gave me a much-needed kick in the pants for the historical romance side of things during our chat this week.

Some of the things that have been swimming round my mind as of late:

  1. I miss Romantic Times magazine. The O.G. version, before it was RT Book Reviews, preferably in the newsprint era, tabloid size era a plus. I never made it to their annual conventions, but oh the pictures they shared for those of us who weren’t able to be there in person. I’m talking themed parties, sometimes controversial costumes, writers and readers mingling at will. It’s been said that if RWA conferences were university, RT conventions were Spring Break. I will have to take others’ word on that. I remember DM’ing my friend, Trish, who had been there, to ask if it was really true, that the founder had announced that it was all done-zo at the conference itself. Sadly, it was.
  2. Speaking of those RWA (Romance Writers of America) which while still a controversial organization on the national level, the local chapter meetings were a place where, once a month, I could get up close and in person with other career-focused romance writers. The romance part is important, as is the career focused part. Put them both together and it’s community. My local chapter voted some months ago to dissolve, and now I feel…floaty. I know there are also other organizations available for those missing that kind of company, though I am still finding out where those might be. Suggestions for online resources gratefully accepted, and DMs are open.
  3. This is the time of year that I would normally be getting ready for the New England RWA conference, the place where Melva and I conceived of the Love by the Book series because we were early for breakfast . We are currently writing book number three in that series, and have tentative plans for future books as well as other projects. Conferences are also a place where one could network and find others in one’s own subgenre, aka Extroverted Romance Writer Christmas, and not going to lie, the swag is a huge plus. Though I am delighted to know that the coveted purple pens in Hannah Howell’s swag contributions are Pentel RSVP, easily available and come in a lot of colors.
  4. It’s a good thing I love planning. Not only does it go along with the nitty gritty (pun intended) of making one’s home tidy and aesthetically appealing, but in getting all of those too-lng ignored projects in order and prioritized and researched and all of that good stuff.
  5. It’s also good that I am a blabbermouth. A very extrovert thing that I do is that talking and thinking happen often at the same time, as in thinking something through means talking it through, so I will probably be doing more blabbering, either here or on You Tube, but that’s another day.

For today, it’s this post, listening to things I’ve meant to listen to for some time now (my YT to be watched list is mighty) and then spiffy-fying my space. There will probably also be tea.

How’s your week going?

Anna

annabowling 1 Comment

How did it get to be February already? I did not sign off on this. I also did not authorize the dearth of planner/journal decorative items that are wintry but not Christmassy. I love Christmas; it’s my favorite holiday, but I can’t for the life of me make myself use poinsettia and evergreen stickers on January spreads. Good thing it’s now February and I can break out the Valentine’s stuff for the next four weeks. February is too soon for the traditional spring florals. Those can come out near the end of March, though I like to go rain themed for April. Very specific theme, I know, but I did learn how to draw an umbrella for it, so that helps a good deal.

Anyway, it’s Thursday. I’m babbling. Even though it’s not spring yet, I am in strong spring cleaning mode. Since Housemate has a bunch of vacation time she has to use in March, we may use that to bust out some important items out of stuff jail. I’m talking furniture – my beloved secretary desk, a headboard Real Life Romance Hero and I inherited from Maman (Housemate’s mother,) and some things from Housemate’s storage as well. This will, in time, include my all-time favorite romance novels, my Bertrice Small collection first and foremost. I am very much looking forward to putting those back in their place.

Last week, I was able to add to my desk area (pictures to follow) a gorgeous end table from Maman, fiving me another surface next to my temporary desk, meaning I now have someplace to put not only my tea (very important) but reference materials, handwritten notes/drafts, etc, and keep things I love around me. Things for planning and journaling will probably end up in a different area than things for writing fiction, but it is all a work in progress.

This week, I had a wonderful conversation with Melva, and we are back on track with Queen of Hearts, to be followed by edits on Drama King. We also talked about some possible projects for the future, though we are keeping our focus on the stuff in front of us. This now brings me to time to get babck to historiccal romance, which can be…trickier.

Though I hadn’t wanted the first round edits for A Heart Most Errant to have a birthday, well,

Birthday cake covered in white frosting roses, with glittery gold candle in the shape of the numeral one.
Photo by Mohammad Danish on Pexels.com

Yeeeep. It happened. Not that I intend for it to get to the terrible twos, but some years do knock one for a loop. I do have to admit that I am feeling the lack of a local RWA chapter (our local chapter voted to dissolve, though we do have an informal FB group) and being in the same room as others of my kind. I love talking with other readers of historical romance, but the writing of it, well, that’s a different matter.

\Though I know every chapter of any group has its own identity, more often than not, the RWA chapters I have experienced have been very open. Plop self down next to Other Person, chat amiably, find out several minutes in that Other Person is Big Name Author and now you are a writerly version of work friends. There’s also the energy of being in a room full of people who love to write what I love to write, especially when I find a fellow historical romance writer, at which point

Two women, holding drinks and chatting happily
Photo by ELEVATE on Pexels.com

It starts with “what eras?” and goes on from there. Hopefully with an “I loved That Book You Wrote” on at least one side. (Though it be many years in the past, the thrill of hearing “I loved that article you wrote on A Certain Author” across a big ol’ meeting room the first time I introduced myself to a new chapter. If whoever is running the meeting has us go around and introduce ourselves and say what we write, that’s a bonus point I love to find out who writes what. Though there are always chances that a particular chapter will slant heavily towards a particular subgenre (contemporary, erotic, YA, etc) there’s usually a good variety, and one can usually find a kindred soul, or at least be put in touch with one if they do not happen to be in attendance at the moment. An “X, meet Y” email later, boom, connection.

It’ll all work out in time. Writers do tend to find writers (especially when they babble on the interwebs; historical romance writers; hit me up) and the most important part of writing is, well, writing. Butt in chair, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, etc, etc, and so on until there is Book. Then do it again.

That’s about it for now, but hey, blog post written, so it counts for the week. How are things going on your end?

Anna

Typing With Wet Paws: Digging Out Edition

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Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. It’s been quite the week over here, and pretty much all of the humans are now in the digging out of the debris phase. Aunt Linda will be going to CT early in the coming week to take care of a few family things. I am not sure if Mama Anna is going with her, but if Mama Anna is going with her, then I am going with Mama Anna. We are a team. Also, I cry when she is gone for too long, and leaving me at home alone while Papa is at work is not one of the world’s greatest ideas. Aunt Linda’s brother, Uncle Bob, will be meeting her there, I think, so I don’t know if having us there would be too crowded. We will see. If we do go, I love car rides, so I won’t be complaining unless I don’t get a good view. Then I will make my displeasure known.

On the domestic front, Mama Anna is grumbling about hauling a bunch of cardboard out to the recycling area. Personally, I don’t see a problem with a lot of cardboard. Has she ever even tried scratching it? Totally satisfying. Humans are weird. I would consider the smell of old pizza to be a plus.

I highly recommend a long winter’s nap.
Photo by Mama Anna

Oh. That reminds me. Since we do live in an area with lots of good pizza, the humans order it a decent amount. Well. It smells really good, and I am a curious girl. Earlier this week, Papa had an unattended slice of pizza, and I thoughtt the sausage on it smelled really good. He didn’t mind when I sniffed it, but touch my tongue to it one time, and all of a sudden, it’s “not for kitties.” Which I know is human for “get your face out of that.” You can guess how well that worked. Long story short, I am not allowed around pizza unsupervised anymore. Papa knows now to watch his plate.

For Mama Anna, this digging out stuff means a lot of reading and writing. This will mean a lot of what she calls brain dumping, which means putting whatever is in her head onto whatever page she has in front of her, whether that be paper or screen. Sometimes she has to blabber a lot before she can get any readable writing out of the process. I like when she is in this place, because I get to stick close to her and be her mews. I am super good at that. When we are getting into a really good writing session, Mama Anna and I snuggle into the big pillow nest on the people bed and settle in with a fuzzy blanket (still not fuzzier than me, though) and a tea or cold drink for Mama Anna, and we are good for a nice long stretch. Speaking of which, I think it’s time to lead her on over there. What’s on tap for your weekend?

Headbonks!

Storm

PS (or psspsspss -wee what I did there?) : Mama Anna is already one book ahead of schedule on her Goodreads challenge, with five books read out of seventy-five. Pillow nests are super good for reading.

Me Again

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Hello, all. It’s been a while. I still exist, I am still writing and I do still know how to work a computer. We’ve had a few things going on over here.

Photo by Roy Post on Pexels.com

Within one week, we had three deaths in the extended family. My contemporary co-author, Melva Michaelian, messaged me to let me know her husband, Jerry, had passed. I will always remember Jerry’s warm welcomes when I visited Melva, and his dry sense of humor. He loved his family, his dogs, had a dsitinguished career as a firefighter, and was just an awesome human being.

That same week, the cos friend of close friends (and wonderful human in her own right) also lost her beloved husband, which has of course rallied the entire friend group.

Then our Housemate got The Call that her mother (whom I will now refer to as Maman, my name for her) had passed. Housemate is okay, doing what needs to be done, and Storm and I may take a couple of days to lend a hand (and paw) to clear out Maman’s apartment.

There’s also the matter of cleaning our own, as it feels like we’ve been under a mountain of dishes, laundry, and recycling. Spring cleaning is definitely starting early over here. I will not mention the mountains of emails and snail mails that I need to address, but if I owe you some form of communication, it is coming.

As I said in my weekly chat with my friend, Mary, this is all more than a bit disconcerting when it comes to writing. Still, the only way to write is to, well, write. As a once upon a time writing group facilitator said often, the process begets the product. Put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and keep going. Make bad stuff. Then make better stuff. That’s how it works.

Whether that means, for the immediate present, that I work on things that are in the pipeline, rough out something new, or even dig up old bones of trunked projects, I don’t know. Probably poking all of the above with a stick, because, well, dangit. I like having new books out. Today, more than ever, there are mutiple ways to make that happen.

I will admit that I am feeling the lack of romance writer community right the heck now, especially historical romance writer community. (If you fall into that category, seriously hit me up and let’s chat.) My local RWA chapter meetings were always great for this sort of thing, but, as with many chapters as of late, ours disbanded and now that part of me feels rather…floaty. Thinking of joining an online chapter, or finding an alternative organization, but definitely need it to be historical romance centric or at least friendly. Online is good, in person is best.

I am also greatly feeling the lack of Romantic Times Magazine. Not RT Book Reviews as it was rebranded for the last leg of its run, but Romantic Times, genre right there in the name. At one time, I had a sizeable collection of back issues, but not now, and I am missing them. I loved getting the paper magazine every month, reading through the reviews of new releases, especially with the setting noted right at the top, so I could pinpoint my favorite eras. Also track trends, not going to lie about that. Le sigh. There are some wonderful similar resources available online now, but that particular group, that’s what I am missing.

Anyway, I wanted to get this brain dup out here before it was time for Storm to give the cat’s eye view of the week. I look forward to resuming a more regular blogging schedule, possibly interspersed with vlogs, and most likely still on the two a week schedule, because I like the extra writing time. If you’re still with me after all this blabber, you have my eternal gratitude. Creative journaling has been helping me a lot lately, and I have even started a book journal that keeps me mostly on track with my reading. Apparently having to tick a box is great motivation. Writing jounal is in progress, but more on that later.

How are all of you?

Still me, Anna

Typing With Wet Paws: ‘Twas the Week Before Christmas Edition

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Tails up, and Happy Holidays, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. It’s the week before Christmas here (well, and everywhere else, pretty much, but it’s a regular day for some people, which is cool. I like regular days.) I have not yet made a move toward the Christmas tree, but then again, A) the lights do not blink (Mama Anna wants them to blink, but they currently do not. Harumph.) and we do not have a topper yet. The topper may blink, and that may catch my attention.

What has definitely caught my attention is that I know what drawer in the people clothes dresser Mama Anna keeps the catnip in, and I want it. I love catnip. That drawer doesn’t close all the way, and I can get my fingers over the edge. I keep trying to pull . I’ll get it one day. The claw marks tell me where I need to concentrate my efforts. Usually, Mama Anna tells me “enough of that,” or “excuse you,” and gives me pets. Then she asks me if I want nip (I always do) and she puts some on my bed or in my (cardboard box) house, and then we are both happy.

Because of reasons, Mama Anna and Aunt Linda are doing their holiday shopping this weekend. I have specifically asked for red dot and wand toys. I trust them to do the right thing. I also plan to share a can of people tuna with Papa. We do that on special occasions. Aunt Linda’s work friend gave me a bunch of fancy gushy food because her cats said “no thank you” to that purchase. There is a flavor that makes me kind of vomity, so those cans will be going to a nice human who feeds ferals near Aunt Linda’s work.

photo by Rheuben Bowling

Aunt Anna has moved the goalposts of her Goodreads challenge. It’s now 85 books instead of 90. That feels much more achievable right now. She regrets nothing. So far she has read 81 books, so that’s only four more. She can totally do that. I’m here for her so she can rub my belly with the hand that isn’t holding the tablet or book. If she reads an audio book, she can pet me with both hands. I prefer that.

As for writing, this has not been the most productive week, as she’s had another human at home for the last three days straight, and her office is in the bedroom and that can get tricky when someone is trying, to sleep while she is making with the tappity tappity. When she writes longhand, she likes to do it in bed while propped up on the whole bunch of pillows they have there. I suppose she could use Papa as an improvised kind of desk, if he is sleeping face down. I’ll suggest it.

What are you guys doing to get ready for your holidays?

Headbonks!

Storm

And Then One Day, You Do

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The art, and probably science, of coming back to oneself, especially as a creative, after a significant trauma, is not a straight line, but more like a manic freeform scrawl, like what one might find if a toddler were given a Sharpie and a blank white wall. It feels like forever. It feels big and blinding and impossible. It’s at once a fever dream and a much-desired goal. How to get there, though? Beats me. I have been through this journey more than once, may well again, as I still have some time in front of me, and each time is going to be different.

it also involves a lot of The Sims, or maybe that’s just me

There are big chunks of wanting to do the things that make a person the unique individual that they are, to get the creative voice to make a sound, but …not. There is knowing the thing, knowing one likes the thing. The thing is right there. One could do the thing. This crawls through one’s brain like a news crawler. One wants to do the thing. One wants to like doing the thing. One wants to have done the thing. Does one do the thing? No. Why?

Season 5 Whatever GIF by Paramount+
Lucy says it best

The easiest explanation I have, for my own individual case, is that there aren’t enough spoons. If you’re not familiar with spoon theory, it’s kind of like the pain scale. Basically, there is only so much energy a person has when dealing with a chronic condition, it’s finite, and putting spoons in one place means they can’t go in another. Sometimes they go to playing Sims for a few months or rearranging the furniture, or constructing planners or whatever happens to fill the need at the time. It’s different for everybody. It also very seldom resembles what the person thinks it’s going to be.

For me, I thought it was going to mean gorging myself on a steady stream of historical romance, preferably from my keeper boxes. Probably Netflix/Hulu binges, and oh the writing I was going to do. I’ve done some. I hired my first indie editor, the fabulously talented Jessica Cale, and got through the first round of edits, which then just…sat. Because. As with the reading. As with the viewing. As with the total lack of listening to music, which has some interesting results for my Spotify year in review. I will also mention the war between a mad race to the end of my Goodreads challenge, or shrugging that off and deciding it is what it is.

And then. Because there is always an “and then” when it comes to this sort of thing. Thing is though, there is no sort of time table, though one would be incredibly useful. Maybe, though, we write it as we go. At any rate, we go about it one foot in front of the other, maybe even plodding through rambly blog posts, or lack of blog posts and it gets annoyingly tedious. Will This Ever End? Maybe there has been some writing, but it’s more like going for a hike with a cartoon style ball and chain around one’s ankle. Doable, and one can technically get to one’s destination, but is one going to appreciate the scenery and/or have a lovely chat along the way? Possibly not so much.

But back to the “but then.” Then one day, one does. Oh, look, I’m reading a book. Oh look, I finished watching a series on Netflix. Oh look, I added something new to Spotify. Oh look, sleep tracker shows a steady bunch of nights that count as decent rest. That’s all good stuff. It’s not one thing. The ball and chain doesn’t drop off dramatically. It gets ground down by a million single steps. Online chats. You Tube videos playing in the background when not looking at the screen. Mindless tablet scrolling, like treading water in an infinity pool, no agenda in mind.

Then one day, the ball and chain isn’t there. It’s weird. Writing is a challenge, and then, one day, it’s …normal? The way it should be? Familiar? Sort of “oh, there you are.” Not exactly the same, because I don’t think that’s possible, but okay. Stepping from one room into another.

Do I know where this is going?

Season 5 Whatever GIF by Paramount+

Not sure, but it’s real, and it’s true, and writing it feels good, so I am going to hit the publish button and then get on with my day. Moving to a two blog a week schedule, one of those Storm’s responsibility, honestly has made a difference in my fiction writing, so I am thinking of keeping the practice beyond December. Not sure yet; we’ll see, but putting the emphasis on writing romance fiction, feels right.

Hmm, probably time for a new signoff graphic.