Is it possible to have blogger's block? Blog envy? Blogophobia? Nah, not that one. Maybe that Romancing the Blog looks so darned neat that I have an "I'm not worthy" moment? The fact that as I type this, the husband is either making me dinner or preparing to do so? The fact that the resident feline unit has spent much of her day begging me to come into the living room for no apparent reason? That a round robin letter I've been in for years (and I'm the baby of the group; the others had had it going for years before that) is pretty much ending? That it's the first of February?

I dunno. Maybe I'll blame Maggie Osborne. I finished her Firefox Bride in the bath today (I'm a tub reader from way back) and it was wonderful. I have been known to be grumpy after reading an especially good book, and I've been on a roll of good reads.

Maybe it's that I've reached that point in my current WIP that is about to put me over the hump. Two of my characters threw me a loop in this morning's writing that made the trip from where I currently am in the ms to typing "the end" crystal clear.

Me: Hey ! Hey! You guys never told me that.

Them: Yes, we did, and you didn't listen.

Me: I'm the one writing this.

Them: We're the ones living it. Besides, our way works, and your way only makes you mainline M&Ms.

I'm fairly sure one of them stuck her tongue out at me, and they were right about the M&Ms...but only because they're the pink and white Valentine ones. Anyway, they're right, I'm wrong, and I'm doing it their way, but still looking at them over the frames of my spectacles, with that "next time tell me first" look. Ah, well, at least they're getting along in this one thing.

Which does make life easier. Though that could be augmented by the fact that Harlequin Historical's new guidelines have made them extremely Anna-friendly, and are now at the top of my list. Huzzah. Or it could be augmented by the fact that we now have the first member for our chapter's February online class, after the registration glitch was fixed. I had vowed not to breathe (okay, hyperbole there) until that happened, so good thing for me it did. I want to take this forensic psychology class so bad it hurts. (and what does that say about me?) I love making dastardly villains, and this should be perfect.

Then again, maybe it's that the husband promised to make his meatballs, and he knows I'm goofy for the meatballs. And the curly pasta. With the fancy sauce. Though if he's too pooped, we'll have Chinese leftovers.