Monday, November 02, 2009
Just have time for a quickie this morning. I was up early but spent my time between the bathroom and writing. It's what I do in the mornings--urinate and write.
I've been on a roll lately, but it didn't occur to me until this morning to double check the calendar to clarify dates in one of my stories. I was on target, so my memory is still intact and functioning even though I was remembering things that happened 25 years ago, almost half my lifetime ago. It just doesn't seem possible sometimes and others . . . well, it's like it happened in another lifetime.
The weekend was busy and quiet and I discovered that I can see Pikes Peak out the bedroom window if I'm pointed in the right direction. I happened to look up while lying across the bed fishing for books fallen between the bed and the wall and saw snow-covered Pikes Peak. I hadn't looked out from that direction before since I tend to lie in bed facing west and not south. It does make a difference.
One more critique is history and this one isn't too bad, although the main character is a bit flaky, irresponsible and slobbish for my taste. I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a romance or not, but if it is, it is taking a very long time to get to the point. I'm five chapters in, more or less, and the heroine has done nothing but complain, whine, bitch, kvetch and slack. She's modeling her life on Scarlett O'Hara from Gone With the Wind and so far, she's not living up to the tempestuous tyrant of Tara at all. She also doesn't act at all like a professional veterinarian ophthalmologist, in my opinion. I'm amazed she got through veterinary school and got a job, come to that. And I won't even go into her fondness for the word slash, which she uses at every possible opening--a lot. Still, there is something there even if it's just a glimmer of a wink of possibility.
With one biography down and a pre-post apocalyptic fantasy nearly finished, I'm in good shape review-wise. I've made headway on my new novel and continue to clear up discrepancies and edit a novel in the publisher's editing queue and am generally pleased with my progress. I didn't get any laundry done this weekend, but I have plenty of underwear so I'm safe for another week or so. Trash goes out tonight and I'll probably do a load of towels and vacuum tonight, but otherwise things are under almost completely under control. I love it when work and writing come together without needing me to crash my head against the wall or pull all nighters. I need my sleep, such as it is.
There were no trick-or-treaters this year, but I didn't buy any candy or treats so I'm not out anything, except the joy of the spectacle. My landlord did call on Friday to tell me that the police had been called for the neighbor because some of the middle school hooligans kicked out the slats in his picket fence. Mark wanted to know if everything was all right here, but by the time I got the message and called back he already knew I was all right and uninvolved in the fracas. I mentioned the roof again and he told me that one day soon roofers would be here to pull off the shingles and completely reroof the addition. I asked about the dwindling pile of dirt and Mark said he'd have the roofers handle that at the same time, so things here will soon be back to normal, as long as I can talk the roofers into fixing the front door so the winter winds don't have a free pass to the rest of the house through the gaping gaps around the door. I might even be able to stay warm this winter without breaking the bank on the heating bill and lower the budget on the utilities next year. All good things.
I miss the golden aspens. There are none near where I live. I also miss the one foot thick walls of the cabin and the solitude, but I miss it less than usual. Too much going on down here to keep me busy and several people clamoring for my writing services waving lots of money at me. I can live with that very well. Looks like the last two months of this year are merely a prelude to a bigger and better 2010, but I can wait. I intend to savor every single day left of this chaotic year. Can't afford to wish away any more time. I'm not twelve going on twenty-one any more.
That is all. Disperse.