Sleeeeeeeeeepy.  Must sleep. I”m nodding off even as I write this.

Gooooood nigh……zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I had a really wonderful time this weekend at a mini-author-retreat up on the mountain.  One of the gals in my writing group invited me up with some of the other ladies and we had a little slumber party at her cabin.

So what do a bunch of writer types talk about for hours at a time while snuggly ensconced in a cute little cabin?  Mostly they giggle, and drink margaritas/coke and limoncellos/wine, and tell silly stories about their kids.  We did talk a little bit about craft, but mostly we watched hysterical and fascinating videos on Youtube.

It was really refreshing and I feel so peaceful I don’t have a single thing to bitch about tonight.  So enjoy my good mood as I am.

I have to go to work tomorrow and at some point this week head down to the Department of Motor Vehicles so that ought to fill up my dry well of Annoyance.  

P.S. I am pleased to report my two baskets were very well received at the Big Raffle.  Thank goodness.  (I’m such a lunatic.  I really need to stop the insanity but then what would you all have to read about?)  To those of you who were immeasurably helpful in assisting me in pulling this off – Thank you thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart.

This is shockingly true.

Hey – go check out www.amylynnbright.com – my personal website.  It underwent a makeover and I think it looks fantastic.

I down in the dumps today.  The agent said out of the eight editors who have my book, there have been four passes.  Deep sigh. 

“Ugh!  Does this happen often?  The ‘passes’ I mean?” I asked her.

“Yes, unfortunately more often than not…” she replied.  “We often get down to 1 editor who loves it to close a deal….but we only need 1!!”

She’s right, of course.  But that news compounded with the dreary, rainy dayand my soul-sucking day job has made me blue, kind of Eeyoreish.  I’m usually a glass is half-full kind of person but it’s hard to keep that up all the time.

I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow.  After all tomorrow is Friday and Saturday is the big raffle meeting for my writer’s group and all the Sisters will be together.  After the meeting, I’m going up the mountain with some of the writer ladies for an over-night at a cabin – a little mini-retreat and I’m looking forward to that as well.

Deep sigh.  Everything will work out in the end.  I’m sure.

My mother says I have perfectionismmania.  It’s a word she made up to define what’s wrong with us.  Or rather, to define one of the things wrong with us.

Ava and Kelli have been looking at me askance for weeks, shaking their heads and giving each other looks.  My mother keeps encouraging me to step away, but I can’t.  Ava keeps saying things like “crazy” and “what’s wrong with you?”  Kelli assures me that no one but me will notice or care. 

But the problem is, I will.  I’ll notice.  I care.  And I can’t step away. 

Do you remember those damn baskets I’m making for the big fundraiser my writers group?  I really hate those baskets, which is confusing because I’m also really proud of them.

There are a few missing things that are totally nagging at me.  I hear them in my head – it’s very loud in my head.  I’ve got whole committees meeting up there: the characters of my current project nagging at me, the characters of the last book nagging at me, my hopes and aspirations which are all attached to MY AGENT, Bills that need to be paid (these are extraordinarily obnoxious), and most plaguing of all, the stupid projects I take on and then become obsessed with making perfect.

There are only a few things I can’t find for these damn baskets.  The main one being a parasol for the lady’s one.  One of those pretty, paper ones you see all the time.  I know after this is over I’ll spot a hundred of them, but for now, they may as well not exist.  I’ve been everywhere I can think of. 

I know it’s stupid.  As Kelli says, no one will notice but me.  But I’LL KNOW.  I’ll know how much better it could have been.  Why can’t I let it go?  ARRRRG!

I can’t write on this anymore.  I have to go finish sewing lace on that &^%$@%& basket.

Send help.

One of my favorite things of all time is to come home from work and find a package from a book store waiting for me.  It’s like a little version of Christmas right at your front door. 

Tonight there were two books – both reference books, both remarkably engaging.

The Country House, How it Worked by John Vince

Anyone who reads historicals, especially Regency, knows that the characters are always running off to the country house.  Well, any question you ever had about them is answered in this book with detailed pencil drawings.

The Complete Servant by Samuel & Sarah Adams

Parts of this book were originally published in 1759 & 1783.  There can be no book more comprehensive when it comes to the role of a servant.  The authors were 50 years in service ending their careers as the Housekeeper and Butler.  There are even recipes for both food and cleaning supplies, directions on cleaning gloves without water, and directions for contemporary child care.  Absolutely fascinating.

Ooooooh, I wish I had a month off work so I could just sit and read from cover to cover.

In my dreary day to day life I do mortgages.  I know – not romantic, not exciting, not creative in any way.  Why do you think I keep telling you it’s sucking my soul dry?

Anyway, I was screwing around on the internet at work the other day while on hold – I spend a lot of time on hold – I found these.

Open House at Pooh Corner

by Zach Ayers

100 Aker Wood – 2-story trad Victorian on talking-animal preserve. Guest house in hollow tree (no perm). 24hr p-p-piglet on prem.

– – –

123 Sesame St. – 1 BD/1BA Eng bsmt. Lifestyle frndly. Pets, bbrds, grchs, snfflpgss, lmos OK w/deposit. Sunny nbrhood. Sweet air. Cloud sweeper avail.

– – –

Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood – 0BD/0BA craftsman. Adj to Land of MkBlv trolley. Ample closet space. Model home. Free tote bag w/lease.

“Discovering new places can sometimes be unnerving.”

There is a minor crisis going on at Amylynn Central.  I came in here to write at 11:00.  PM.  I know – that’s my thing.  I’ll regret it tomorrow morning.  Nevertheless, I came into the office to write at 11PM. 

I started to get everything ready.  I turned on the TV to find the required action movie or, if that wasn’t happening, an old comedy.  Maybe I’d luck out and Caddyshack would be on.  I’m feeling in the mood for Caddyshack – a little Bill Murray a little Ty Webb – all would be right with the world.  Hmmmm. Cable’s not coming on.  I just turned it off in the living room so the Cable’s not out.  Turn it off.  Turn it on.  Nope, just a taunting blue screen of aggression winking out at me.  Turn it off.  Turn it on.  What did My Honey do to this?  Damn it.  I saw him watching TV in here this evening.  Obviously he’s done something screwy to it.  I’m gonna go ask him.  No, wait.  It’s 11:03, he’s sure to be asleep already and how selfish would that be if I wake him up just to demand he come fix the television.  Turn it off.  Turn it on.  My entire repertoire of electronics skills have been fully demonstrated.  Maybe the TV is on the wrong station.  I expand my skills by turning the channel up and turning the channel down.  WAIT! There’s a picture.  But it looks wrong.  Something is very wrong.  I could call Cox and maybe a tech could walk me through fixing this.  Or the moron who answers the phone at Cox could just really piss me off and then I’d be even more mad with no TV.  I know The Count of Monte Cristo is on channel 194 – just turn that on and stop messing with it.  Not exactly what I want, but I know the story very well so I don’t have to concentrate on it.  Dumas, although very long winded,  is a favorite of mine.  I’ve read The Count, The Three Musketeers, and the story Man in the Iron Mask…excellent action stories all.

Alright.  TV crisis is averted.  I go to the desk and turn on the computer.  I open the QuillSisters.com to see if there are any comments I need to approve or, more likely, move to the spam folder.  I even begin writing this blog.  I get three lines in before…

Good Lord, this desk is a mess.  So now I must clean the desk.  I’ve worked

No, it wasn't THIS bad!

 at the desk like this for at least a week without being compelled to straighten it, but tonight I can’t help myself.  I dust and reorganize the desk top.  I studiously ignore the floor.  Sweeping will have to wait for another day.

So now I’m to this point in this blog post and I notice my bulletin board is really full.  I’ll bet 50% of that stuff can be thrown away.  Hmmmmmm. 

Alright.  It wasn’t 50% maybe 15%, but it’s much neater now.

Oh for crying out loud.  Now it’s 12:02 and I haven’t written a damn thing.

Deep sigh.