Running in Place

I have absolutely no idea what I've been doing differently these last few days, but I've just not been able to get over here and jot my notes until after dinner. I wish I could say I had a fantastic day and wrote 10,000 words or something equally impressive, but it's been pretty much the same old, same old. I've been squeezing in reading over my proofs, but that shouldn't make a difference.

I wanted to take a picture of my mannykin lying flat on his back in exhaustion from all the hard work, but I think he's curled up under a warm cover somewhere, slumbering.

Guess I'll try to finish that e-mail stacking up over in the corner and try to get a little more organized next week. Right. I heard that giggle!

Slow Day at Black Rock

It's been sleeting all day but fortunately no cars were sliding on the hill outside my window, although I understand they were sliding everywhere else.

I've had enough of winter. My poor daffodils have wee little green sprouts that haven't grown in a month. At least they have the sense to stay underground until it gets warmer. In a moment of desperation, I planted one of the common yellow Carolina jasmines in a planter in the courtyard hoping it would be protected enough to survive. I imagine they're blooming in the Carolinas about now. Mine is brown and probably won't survive.

But I sketched out another chapter of the next book before my galleys for the July book showed up. I hate reading my books when they've reached a state where I can't redline them to death. Oh well, I'll use a green pencil and pretend it's spring.

Sigh of Relief

Really, writing must be one of the craziest businesses in the world, especially since it very seldom behaves like a business. It's more like digging a hole to China and hoping to stumble across gold in the process. Or maybe a treasure chest. Or an elephant trunk. One never quite knows what constitutes success in a market so erratic that I wouldn't be surprised if vampire inspirationals are the next bestseller.

So even though I rant and rage against the vagaries and uncertainty, I'm still relieved when I'm finally in a place where I can apply pen to paper and start another story. Retrograde departed last night. I have three new ideas burning a hole in my skull. And even though I have other stories making the rounds, I'm eager to stretch my skills and try my hand at new material. Maybe I'm not digging holes to China, but I think I'm prospecting on a river that's bound to have some gold in it.

If not, oh well, I'm enjoying the day.
Karyn Witmer-Gow gave a bunch of us little mannykins for Christmas. I've set mine to boldly scaling my desk lamp. Let's see how far he gets with this next proposal!

Does anyone else have little inspiration trinkets sitting around their desks?

Retrograde heading out...

If all your recent communications have fallen through potholes in the universe and been translated by space aliens, then you're being hit by this latest Mercury retrograde. I swear, I've had to post things three times for them to show up, watched emails disappear into an alternate universe, and brawls break out on reasonable, intelligent lists over utterly nothing.

So I've been postponing actually starting chapters on any of the new proposals. I figure it will all come out with too many consonants and not enough vowels or something. But retrograde ought to be lifting tonight...so onward and upward tomorrow!