Anna Carrasco Bowling's Blog, page 17

Typing With Wet Paws: Winter Whiteout Edition

Tails up Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. They would be frozen paws if I went outside, which I will not be doing, because A) I am not allowed, B) I don’t know how to do stairs anyway, and C) I can’t work doorknobs. Also D) it’s cold. With snow on the ground. No way am I going outside in that. Or anytime. I am an indoor cat. Granted, I could do a cool trick by flopping on my pack and disappearing because my belly is allll pure white, but then my assorted flavor toe beans would give me away. Far better to stay inside with Mama Anna and perform my Mews duties.

how’s this for an author photo?

I have already helped her make the bed, and after this blog, I can help her (aka sit on) put away the laundry. It smells okay, but it has virtually no cat hair on it when it comes back from the laundry place. I must fix that. Since I am calico, I can shed on everything and still have my hair visible. It’s kind of a superpower. Yesterday, Papa and Mama Anna were both home, and they made all of the trash and recycling go someplace else. Much more space for me to patrol, so I am thankful for that Mama Anna will be listening to an audiobook while she puts the laundry away (and removes me from it.) Audiobooks seem to be a pretty decent way to get her reading goals under control. So is keeping track of things in her reading journal. She may work on that today, and I will of course help her. Steal her pens, bap her rolls of washi with my paws, sit on open pages, whatever it takes, I am there.

Speaking of reading, Mama Anna is on track for her Goodreads Challenge this year. Right now she is at nine percent, with seven books read out of seventy-five. Reading time is often cuddle timee, so yes, I do have a personal investment here.

While this has not been the most productive week for Mama Anna’s writing, it’s better than last week, so she is going to count that as a win, and so will I. We are both perplexed over why pictures she takes (mostly of me, but other stuff too) is not showing up on other devices when they used to, but Aunt Linda is good at figuring that sort of stuff out so we will ask her for some help. Normally, I don’t care for the humans moving furniture around and stuff, but with the way Mama Anna is re-doing the office area, she is at her desk more, which means that I can be on my special bed next to her desk more (it is an old lap desk of hers turned upside down with the pillow side up) and be sneaky because it’s behind the Kanban board she set up to track different projects.

So yeah, that’s basically it for today. Tomorrow, Mama Anna will post on Buried Under Romance and get moving on getting the backlog of reviews up there as well. Of course I will be there to supervise. Unless that is, the snow plow comes back. I love watching that from Aunt Linda’s window. What are you guys all doing this weekend?

Headbonks!

Storm

How did it get to be February already? I did not sign off...

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,

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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

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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

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

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.

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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: Just Checking In Edition

Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. Some of you may have noticed that this blog has been rather feline-heavy and human-absent as of late. That is because the humans are dealing with some human family things that are taking some time and energy. I will let Mama Anna talk about what those are when she is able, but we are okay. Not the best start to the new year, but not to worry, I am here and fuzzy and always ready to let Mama Anna give me lots and lots of belly rubs. Belly rubs make everything better.

Reading is also a good thing, as evidenced in how Mama Anna is making progress in her Goodreads challenge this year. Right now, she is one book ahead of schedule, with three books finished out of a projected seventy-five. She is also working on a new reading journal, which is visual as well as informative, and she’s liking it pretty well. I only know how to post pictures of me, so try this on for size.

Photo by Mama Anna

That’s me on my cat tree. I really really really like it, and I do my best to give Mama Anna lots of opportunities to take pictures. I mean, she can take pictures of things that are not me, like her desk and notebooks, but we all know who is the star here. The cat tree also lets me sit in Mama Anna’s video calls that she takes in Aunt Linda’s room.

Anyway, this is a shorter post than usual, but real posts will be back soon.

Headbonks!

Storm

Typing With Wet Paws: Happy New Year Edition

Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Stom, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. It’s also now the year 2022, which seemed very far away at times, but here it is. So far, so good. Mama Anna will be back to regular blogging next week. She said something about getting the office area in line and writing and stuff, but I’ll let her take care of all of that in her own time.

Mama Anna loves White Christmases

Okay, around here, it’s a black, white and orange Christmas, no matter what the weather, but yes, there was snow. No, I did not go out in it. I am an indoor cat. As a matter of fact, nobody went out on Christmas this year. Exactly the way I like it. We did presents in the morning, and then Papa cooked us food at home. He and I often share a can of people tuna on special days. I got some catnip, and a wand toy with feathers (so fun!) and Mama Anna broke out another of the special mice Aunt Mary brought in October. Santa Paws had one more thing on back order for me, and one of Aunt Linda’s colleagues helped him out by bringing me my new (and very first) cat tree! It has five different levels and a cave and I love it. I am waiting for Papa to take a good picture of it because A) it is in Aunt Linda’s room and he knows how to frame it best so her room is still private, and B) Mama Anna took a picture of me snoozing in my cave, but that was on her tablet and it’s not showing up on her laptop first. (Also, I am her laptop. Ahem. Seriously.)

My official Christmas portrait, courtesy of Mama Anna

The day was super good all around. Mama Anna got a special notebook to dedicate to writing related things. She will show that later. Papa also got her some special equipment to help make better videos, which should be fun. Watching her figure it out should provide a lot of entertainment, at least for me. If all goes well, more videos and vlogs. We’ll see how that goes. Anything that gives a better view of me on the glowy box is a bonus in my view. Or the views of whoever is looking at me.

Where the magic happens

I am usually on top of my (carboard box) house, which is to Mama Anna’s left. The lights are going to stay up full time, and Mama Anna does plan to get the notebooks on the shelf somewhat neater. Or maybe move them and then put books-books there She still has to shelve the books Aunt Mary brought. I have had designs on getting to the top of Mama Anna’s and Papa’s dresser, but now that I have the cat tree, I might settle for just opening the drawer where I know they keep my catnip. I can already get my fingers around the top lip of the drawer. That’s progress.

Speaking of progress, Mama Anna has started a new Goodreads challenge. So far, she is on track, with one book read out of seventy-five. That’s a lower number than last year. She figures that she can lowball it for now, so she can look forward to moving the goalposts farther away instead of closer as the year goes on, or so she says. Ahe also set up a reading journal, which she seems to like so far. I like sitting on it when she wants to use it.

As for writing, I am going to leave that to her. She does seem to be doing a lot of it lately, which I take as a good sign. has she begun how she means to go on? Onlytime…and I…will tell.

Headbonks!

Storm

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

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

The Monkee Lestat

Earlier this week, I found out, on the same day, of the passing of two big influences on my creativity. I found out about Anne Rice first, during my morning Facebook browse, and then, a little later, Mike Nesmith of The Monkees. Both of those hit me, but in different ways.

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I first discovered Anne Rice when I stumbled upon Interview With the Vampire, movie version, maybe a half hour in, on a random FB browse. I sat there rapt until the end, immediately sought out the book, then The Vampire Lestat, and hunted down more information on Anne Rice, who had created them. Of course Interview was about grief, and man oh man did she nail it. Not so much the vampire part, surprisingly, but her historical atmosphere so real that it dripped with the Old New Orleans feel. I was actually more of a Louis gal than a Lestat one, but that’s okay. What stuck with me most wasn’t the actual vampires, but the feelings that came along with it. I don’t remember when I wandered away from the franchise. Maybe before Egypt came fully into play, and maybe I will one day go back and read it all.

What I absolutely had to know was the author’s relationship with the Lestat character. I remember reading in some nonficiton book or article or even paper (yes, I tracked down an academic paper) where the author knew the exact moment Lestast left her, and I could see it, feel it, along with her. I also remember reading at a later date of the moment when Lestat came back, and I felt that, too. It’s a special relationship between author and character.

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And then (hey hey) there’s the Monkees. We were born the same year (me and the group, that is; the original people were young adults.) All I knew at the time I discovered them in the early 70’s, when their TV show was in reruns, was they were silly and funny and I liked their music. I wasn’t sure where their parents were until I figured out they were adults and performing was their job. Oh, like The Partridge Family, but adults. Okay. Once again (or really before, since I found The Monkees before Lestat and company) I was more of a Davy gal than a Mike one, but I can say that Michael Nesmith was an amazing songwriter, and I have fond memories of watching his special, “Television Parts” which only addressed Monkee-dom with “I was a Monkee. This is my hat,” and then on with the show. I can respect that.

When the Monkees reunion in the 80s happened, I was in ult, and while disappointed that Mike wasn’t going to be part of it, I also understood. As a newly minted adult myself, he wanted to do other things. Cool. I still love Pool It, the Micky/Davy/Peter comeback album. They still had it. The earlier losses of Davy Jones and Peter Tork also hit me. I appreciate all of their work and am thankful for the legacies they left. I watched a clip from one of their last performances, attached to an official statement from Micky Dolenz, possibly their last time performing “Me and Magdalena,” which I adore, from their first release after Davy’s passing.

Maybe it was even the last time Mike and Micky performed it. This was advertised as The Monkees Farewell Tour, the Micky and Mike show. Micky described Mike as “frail” near the end, and yes, I saw it. I also saw what Micky said about Mike insisting on doing the tour, no matter what anyone else said. Micky carried more of the load than usual there, but Mike gave it all he could, and it showed. I can one thousand percent respect that.

There’s definitely part of both of their works in the writing I have done and am doing and will do. Just remembering for right now, thankful for what they gave us in more ways than they knew.

What celebrity’s work would you like to celebrate this week?

Typing With Wet Paws: Almost Mid-December Edition

Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. Holiday mode is setting in here, as Aunt Linda has the weekend off, which means Mama Anna can rope her into holiday related shenanigans. There will be several of those, I am sure, as Mama Anna has her Christmas planner/journal in full swing. That’s probably because she’s been sleeping a lot better as of late. I can take credit for part of that, as I am not playing around when it comes to bedtime. Especially since Papa is usually in bed first, and that makes it super cozy when we are all in there together. I get Mama Anna into bed, under the covers, and then I flip over so she can rub my belly until one of us falls asleep.

photo by Rheuben Bowling

Word on the street (okay, floor) is that the humans are putting up the Christmas tree on Sunday, probably on the kitchen table/Mama Anna’s journaling spot. There will be new ornaments this year, and part of the shenanigans abovementioned, will be the obtaining of a tree topper, which we did not have last year. Mama Anna says she wants a star, with lights that blink and/or chase. As you can imagine, I am extremely interested in this sort of thing. Will keep you updated as things progress.

Speaking of progress, let’s take a look at Mama Anna’s Goodreads Challenge. As of this writing, she is only four books behind schedule, with eighty books read out of her goal of ninety. Not too out of reach, especially with the weekend ahead, and a low-key Christmas planned. She plans on closing the gap with audiobooks and novellas if needed. She is getting that win by any means necessary.

As for writing, that is honestly going rather well. Slowly, but well. I’ll let her talk about that part, but moving to a two blog a week thing is paying off. Of course, one of those is mine, because quality content, am I right? I can’t take credit for the fiction, though, but I am definitely performing my Mews duty, sticking close and sending love beams. When, that is, I’m not trying to get into the third drawer in the big dresser.

For the last few days, I have been doing everything in my power to get into that particular drawer. Mama Anna wasn’t sure at first, why, other than that I can reach it from the top of my house (big cardboard box, if you’re new here) but standing on my hind legs and reaching and pawing at it with what can only be described as ardent determination. Then the time came when she wasn’t willing to put up with my folderol any longer, and she opened the drawer to see what I was after with such importance.

It was catnip. The big bag of catnip she thought she had put in the refrigerator but was not in the refrigerator, because it was in that drawer. Stil is, really, but now that I know that she knows that I know what’s in there, I only have to ask her nicely for some catnip when I want it. She’s pretty sharp that way. I have also heard the words “red dot” and “cat castle” mentioned in the same sentence as “presents,” so this holiday bodes well.

Headbonks!

Storm

And Then One Day, You Do

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?

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?

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.