NEW RELEASES
Goin’ to the dogs…
Happy Thursday! My first post should be about all of the craziness in my life right now, but instead it’s going to be about my dog. I’m home all alone with my Irish Terrier, Rocky, and a lizard (don’t ask). My husband and children are away and won’t be home for at least another week. Meanwhile, the dog thinks I’ve misplaced them. He sits in my husband’s chair, which he has never done before and rotates laying in front of the kid’s bedroom doors. While he is doing this, he stares at me in silent accusation. As punishment for their absense, he wakes me up early with his cold wet nose on mine, he sits on our living room sofa – a place he knows he is not allowed, insists that I share all of my meals with him (sorry Ed) and guards the lizard when I feed it. Apparently, I might lose it as well… Every time I go near any door, he starts to do his “I’m going for a walk dance” and makes me feel quilty for not taking him out nine times a day. He used to sit on my feet while I was writing but now he just mournfully stares from his perch on his missing father’s chair. I have explained to him in great detail where everyone is at, MANY TIMES, but he will not listen. The joke will be on him when they return soon, safe and sound, and I’ll get to tell him – I told you they’d be back, now stay off of the sofa!
moving on…or not
So this morning my husband left with my four year old son to start a camping trip. That leaves just me and my kindergarten daughter to hold down the fort. Oh, and lest I forget the idiot dog. I know I feel much safer knowing the four-legged-moron is here to bark at every butterfly and snail in the yard. Anyway, the point is, I hope to get a lot of work done. Only the frustrating thing is that the Sisters have pulled me away from a really juicy, plot thickening scene in book 2 and are forcing me into yet another round of revisions to book 1 in their Nazi like quest for perfection. I know the Sisters are right, but to be honest, I’m really kind of sick of those people. Not the Sisters, the characters from that book. They’ve done their thing and now I kind of just want them to go live their lives and leave me alone for a bit. I really want to just sell it and be done with it. It’s a great story and I’m very proud of it, but enough already. Ya know?
Beckoning
With all the craziness of a schedule nearly impossible to keep, I find myself longing for a mental escape into my book. I don’t necessarily mean getting lost in the writing; I mean wishing I was one of the characters. Doesn’t it seem that our heroines have it made? Back in the time where the aristocracy of 19th Century England had only to worry about what to wear to the next big event, how many weeks they would attend a house party in the country at luxurious estate surrounded by green grass and gardens, having every meal prepared for them and spending countless days dodging the affections of dashing men, titled and dripping with fortunes…ahhh. These are only a few of the many reasons to escape into the nearest historical romance novel. And at this moment, the nearest one seems to be the manuscript sitting on the desktop of this computer. My characters are beckoning…Avery is stuck in the moral quandry I so rudely thrust upon her. Dane is as dashing as ever while he tries desperately to make amends for the worst decision he has ever made. And he is trusting me to resolve his conflicts and craft his Happily Ever After. It seems I have talked myself into getting lost in the writing after all…
Where does the time go?
One of my ceaseless frustrations is derived from time, or rather the lack of it. People ask how I can go on the way I do, but my answer is the lack of time and some sort of wierd biological clock. As it turns out, I’ve inherited one from my children and the other from my mother. No matter how tired I am, I can be quite seriously falling asleep at the dinner table but, come 10 o’clock and *BING*, I’m wide awake. All of my creative juices start to bubble and boil over during the witching hours, and I have to very sternly force myself to go to bed around midnight or 1 am. Of course, that’s a problem when I have to wake by 6:30 to get the kids up and everyone to work and school. Therefore, I operate most of my life on five hours of sleep or so. This week has been particulary difficult. Thursday brought a concert in a near by city that got me into bed at 2 am, up for work on Friday and then to a school function that evening, Saturday brought a dance recital, and Sunday is my daughter’s sixth birthday party. The point is, it’s all catching up to me and, whew!, am I tired. My writing time has dwindled and I find myself restless because of it. Of course, many would say the solution is simple really. Just go to bed at a reasonable hour, they would say. Of course, I say pbbbbtttt to that. Obviously the best solution is to write my way to a new career where I can stay up all night and no one expects me to be up at such ridiculous hours in the morning. But for today, I think a nap is in order.
Reflection
I sometimes find incredible the daily reality that is my life. If I were truly seeking a book contract, as Amylynn would concur, I should be writing some factual version of the sideways existence I seem to exemplify in simply struggling to be me. Real life, real people shouldn’t be as bizarre as they truly are when life isn’t looking. Isn’t it only in those moments stolen from Father Time that we are truly ourselves? Looking over my shoulder, yelling haha and skipping away like a 5 year old, I think I may see the secret in my peripheral vision…
The job of my heart
Unfortunately, the Sisters all have “real” jobs that pay the bills while we write and blog our way to the careers of our hearts. Today was the kind of day where you’re pretty sure the only reason you came to work was that someone was going to need a person to yell at. All I can say to myself is, “WRITE FASTER”. I don’t think I was made for this daily grind sort of nonsense.
Blogging for dummies
It seems the Sisters know EXACTLY what they want and have ABSOLUTELY no idea how to get it. After much gnashing of teeth, whining and sleepless nights, the lightbulb has finally gone on. There has been an epiphany of sorts. We can see clearly now, the rain is gone…..I’m channeling Johnny Nash in my excitment. Anyway, hold on to your socks…the Sisters are coming and they’re gonna rock this internet.
Momma’s Day
I’ve been thinking a lot about parents today. I am a mom, in fact all three of the Sisters are, and it goes without saying that the Quills adore our children. I had a very nice day with my family, but I know that one of the sisters had a less than wonderful day today. I know that Isabella and I can only imagine how stressfull it was for our Sister and brother on this Mother’s Day. The two of us are lucky enough to still have both of our parents, but one Sister is not so lucky, and my heart hurts when I think of her family on this day. I know that Isabella joins me when I say to our Sister and brother, “I love you. If I could make it better I would. Come home soon.” Being a writer, I feel that I should be better able to express myself. My ineloquence frustrates me.
Oh Dear…
That poor Muse. I’ve locked her kicking and screaming in the hall closet. Why you ask? Why would I be so cruel to such a fickle lover? Why would I risk her anger and wrath, knowing full well that she may forsake me? Because the new Sookie Stackhouse novel is out! Yippee! Give me a day, sweet, dear Muse, one day. A day and half tops, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise.
The Muse
The muse has bonked me over the head most aggressively again. Barring any shenanigans from the short people in my house, THERE WILL BE WRITING TONIGHT.