All apped up

My thanks go out to Miki, who let me thumb, or rather, index finger, through her apps on Sunday. It never would have occured to me to think about or look for a WordPress app.

This is a much better interface than browsing to my dashboard, if only for the typing speed and editing capability.

As you can tell, I am awake again. There’s a delicious Egg omelette in my future, as well as a new direction for one of the wip.

Starting two new books while already struggling through one seems arrogant in the extreme. But the words are demanding to be written, and I think I need a break from the thirteenth century for a while. I’ve made no substative progress for months, even with a very clear vision of Every scene yet to be written.

So I think that’s the problem. In my mind, those words are already down and done, even though the word count just isn’t there. Working on TRAVELERS is more like revisions, and since I’m still waiting for the series to sell, I might need to do it all again someday.

I mentioned yesterday my brown notebook. Those that have met me and seen my green purse know that inside are two leather-bound journals. The first contains notes, scenes and character treatments for the three book series. This is my black book, and it is nearly full.

The brown book has everything else. Every story idea, outline, business proposal, or quickly jotted address from the last two years of my life. It’s a place of refuge for the constant crativity in my head. It’s where novels go to wait for birth. It’s short stories needing revision, or a bit of fluff that could become something magical someday.

I need my brown notebook. Once I write it down, it’s real. I can roll it over and over in my head, making reference to my chicken scratches, turning the handwritten pages over and over again until I am happy with them.

One of the wip lives there, or at least half of it does. A quick idea that came to me this summer,which I thought was short ficton. I knew it was, just as I knew how the story that had to be written before it to be.

Then I realized that both of them were sequels, and I was screwed. A short story did not lay in their past, but an action adventure novel. Worse yet, all three stories were/are in the same universe as the space opera I set aside 5 years ago to go work for WizKids.

I wrote the first words towards making that particular dream a reality yesterday. Today’s words should bring it fully to life.

Omelette time. And Los gatos demand their kibble. I made a promise to myself when we brought them home not to eat breakfast or dinner without making sure they were fed, or at the very least given treats while I cook. While they get impatient for my action, I beleive I’ve managed to break myslef of a lifetime of free feeding. Were it medically sound (for cats) , I’d feed them on the four meal schedule I use, but that’s not really practical while/when I’m working outside the casa. 7 and 7 seem to be perfect, and they do not beg during the day.

Really, they don’t beg now. They just stare, and use us as furniture until we get up and bring out the bag. Maleficent is sitting on me now, and Medea is purring at the base of the couch. Both have that destructive gleam in their eye that indicates feeding time, so I should sign off for now.

After all, it’s been 30 minutes. Time to put aside the facts, and return to the business of artfully constructed fiction.

End trans