Fall is undoubtedly here. Ignore the current temperature in the seventies, the temps that may actually creep up a bit more during the next few days. They do not scare me; they will settle soon. This means cool, crisp air (and hopefully put us out of athsma season) I can see color on the tree outside my office window, and that's what counts, so I'm calling it fall. Umm, and Labor Day was a few days ago, so I think that fits.

Another week, and yet more real life curveballs. Nothing involving a hospital, but I am picking up some extra cat-sitting time for three cats in two different places (because friends had to be out of town unexpectedly -- for a good reason, not a traumatic one, but still on short notice), Rheuben is begging boxes (if you're in the Enfield, CT area and have boxes, we want them! Really!) because we are moving in two weeks. ::runs around in circle, pulling at own hair:: and I want to be at the living out of boxes stage so we can be ready when it's time to schlep our worldly goods down the street, which is where new place is. So that we can live out of boxes there, and begin all conversations with "honey, where's the ______?"

The week is before me, though I'm still getting through last week's insanity to figure out what day it is (right now, I'm calling today "the day after Bones went to England" -- because I kindasorta half listened to the Bones season premiere, but don't quiz me on anything) and planning out when I'll be writing (desperately miss the momentum I had during our chapter's Book in Six Weeks program...which I think we are unofficially continuing, but I'm behind on emails) and when I'll be packing, box-begging, or doing any of the other moving related tasks, not to forget the wondrous joy of estate stuff and such. I think I may need to play Sims2 for a while to get a needed dose of silly; also to back up my favorite games in preparation for Apartment Life (ironic, b/c we are moving from an apartment to a small house in real life). Because of course the cable is out and was supposed to be fixed by 5AM; it's after that, and no cable. Harumph. I wanted to get current on my new addiction: Nanny 911. I love watching those women whip families into shape. Do they do all -adult families? If not, I am willing to put a frilly bonnet on at least one of the cats.

Finished reading a book that I'm still deciding if I liked it or not, and need to pick something else, but definetly salivating over the new/upcoming Elizabeth Hoyt, Tracy MacNish and Bertrice Small historicals. Picked up a fair amount of promising inspirationals at the library as well, so will sort through those and see if I get any volunteers for the next read. If you hear any supressed growling and stomping about, it is probably me venting my frustrations over having to miss the one local event I look forward to all year, which kicks off the fall season for me -- a library book sale in the town where my dad's house is. Out of my control that I won't be availiable on that day, but a gal's allowed to fuss over such things, right? I'll bring my own box to the used bookstore next week (if I'm not packing) and pretend.

Claire is here because I'm feeling a wee bit lost, regarding the day's schedule. Also because she has quite the look of the historical romance heroine about her. Not only the long blonde hair and delicate features (because heroines come in many shapes and sizes and colors) but that determined look in her eye. She is also bringing Charlie because I refuse to give up on the little Hobbit, same as a good heroine will never give up on her hero, no matter what circumstances may be. We still have a couple seasons left on that show, and if they can have a polar bear, then Charlie can swim. So there.

But that's not why I'm here. With real life getting all changey --and make no mistake, mostly good changes, but some are a bit, shall we say, poignant-- keeping the discipline of writing daily is a must. I have a second draft of the time travel to polish and start querying about, and any day now, edits for the new historical are going to land smack in my in-box. On top of that, I'm researching my darkest historical yet, but I promise the dark is going to pay off with a big triumph. At least for the characters.

At church this week, one delightful gent prayed that I would "sell more books than Harry Potter." I laughed, but I also said "amen." Who wouldn't love sales figures like that, with loyal readers who keep coming back for more? I sure wouldn't turn it down. Which ties into the advice I referenced in my previous post. The best way to be a writer is to write. Every day. Something.

So, as the castaways on Lost have to dig in and do what's needed to survive, there are times we writer types must put on the real life blinders, put posterior in chair and fingers to keys.

Why is Sawyer here? Do I have to answer that? Umm, because he is a reader, of course.

Why lawn flamingoes? No reason, beside the fact that my real life romantic hero does not see the ironic appeal of installing them on the front lawn of our soon to be new home. Plus I'm making oodles of icons lately (they are insanely relaxing) and am determined to put them to work. So keep an eye on this blog; there will be art.

There will also be words. Thrashed as I was yesterday from real life stuff the day before, I spent the morning doing business of writing things, rewarded myself with writing a letter to another writer buddy, lining up some promo for this spring's upcoming release, and getting current-ish on email. Phew. I'll have to admit that a good deal of my antsiness went away when I hit the "print" button for the letter. It's a fundamental fact that writers must put fingers to keyboard, or writing instrument (be it by MontBlanc or Crayola) to paper. Daily if at all possible.

This past week, at house church, two new acquaintances found out that I write historical romance novels. The gal next to me responded with an enthusiastic, "Yay, those are my favorites! Where can I buy them?" and the other response was good, too. The second gal approached me after the meeting to ask some general questions about writing. We didn't have much time to get into specifics, but since I had to advise on the fly, the best thing I could say was to put bottom in chair and fingers to keyboard/instrument to paper. Every day. Even if all that gets down is "I don't know what to write." As a former writing group facilitator once said, the important thing is to keep writing. Blathering for a while is fine; things will start to flow eventually. It's a good thing to keep in mind, and I'm glad that telling that to someone else also helped me remember it myself.

Only a month, this tme. For me, this year, that's pretty good. Sebastian will now demonstrate my current level of energy, over there in that icon. Currently exhausted from going through my dad's house with the auctioneer, picking the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, with a few quick conferences with the hubster in the next room so we can decide if the whatnot stays or goes. All in all, a good day's work, and another big step to new things.

Speaking of new things, I have not yet seen the new Brideshead Revisited movie, but likely will, even though I admit right now that I am one of those "the miniseries was absolutely perfect and the movie can only be a pale imitation" snobs. Loved the miniseries, loved the book, and if they hadn't actually filmed at Castle Howard, I likely would be giving the movie a pass, because Castle Howard *is* Brideshead, really and truly and Castle Howard is only a psuedonym. There are Flytes in those halls, I tell you. Flytes! Flytes! (Plus, seriously, a brunet Sebastian? Oh nononononono, my dear. Poor dear doomed Sebastian is most definetly a blond and nobody can tell me otherwise.) Still, I probably will go, because I have a deep burning need to watch incredibly rich yet troubled Brits make complete hash of their lives in the years between the wars. Then I will go to the library and get the miniseries and not be seen for a week.

Still haven't seen Atonement, though I'm keeping my eye out for the DVD at Target. We really do need more films with historical settings -- can they really be *that* much more expensive than bajillion dollars spent on special effects for SF/fantasy/horror films? I'm just saying.

Have not yet seen The Golden Age or The Other Bolyen Girl, even though the whole Tudor era is a big favorite with me, because I have a hard time with biopics. I want to see fictional characters in historical settings. I know what happened. I want to know what could have happened to new characters. Picky, aren't I? ::shrug:: That's how I roll.

Also between books, reading-wise. Finished Emily Bryan (aka Diana Groe)'s newest, Pleasuring the Pirate, after Meredith Duran's Duke of Shadows, started to read Joanna Bourne's The Spymaster's Lady, and it's not clicking right now, so will go into the "try again later" pile. I have absolutely no shortage of books. Preferably something on the angst level of Duke of Shadows.

Writingwise, I am still busily at work on polishing my time travel and researching a new historical, and new release news is coming soon, huzzah. But for now, Sebastian and I are tired and must loll in the grass.

My friend, Mary, is making me blog again. It's, mm, shall we say, been a while. June was mostly a blur of ambulances and ERs. When you're able to tell the hospital security staff thanks, but you know a better route than the one they just recommended for getting out and back in after hours, you know you're dealing with something. In this case, Rheuben's asthma. For June, we were its chew toy, but that's passed and he, and the family, are doing much better.

Part of the deal is, this is supposed to be a blog about writing historical romance, and none of the above felt very on topic. There was some writing done during that time, and some reading. Those of you who have ongoing reasons to have contact with medical professionals probably know all about the hospital bag; that lovely, handy dandy thing one keeps ready by the door in case it's hospital time again. Special bag only for hospital visits, with important stuff in it, like lists of medications, phone numbers of friends who will gladly come get you at the ER at three AM for the second time in a week and spring for mini burgers at Denny's on the way home. Clean socks (trust me, these are needed,) toothbrush, lotion, books for each family member to read.

For me, the choice is easy; historical romance. While for most of the summer, I've been reading the VC Andrews (ghostwriter only) backlist for study purposes, when I want something to read for me, historical romance is the ticket. Ever since I was eleven years old and devoured the copy of Bertrice Small's The Kadin that I'd purloined from my mother's bedside table, I knew I'd found what I wanted to read and write for the rest of my life. What's more universal than a love story? In many ways, this rough summer has been a recharge; yes, this is what I love and want to do for the rest of my life.

One might call it research in the rough side of being a romance heroine; the life or death concern for the one man in this whole world that means everything, and the joy in bringing him home. The sharing of odd moments, like both noticing that you/he's stayed in this hospital room before. The "we've been through rough stuff before and we'll get through this" squeeze of the hand when one of you isn't able to speak. How can anyone call such things unrealistic when I've lived them? This seals it; romance is real life. The grit and the angst that naturally find their way into my stories, those are real parts of romance as well. Hopefully we won't have to have a summer like that again, but neither of us would trade it; we've grown, become more us (and more him and more me) and I can honestly say it's made me a better writer as well.

This past weekend, my friend Linda (who has been to many many late night ER trips and subsequent mini burgers) and I reconnected with Mary after family responsibilities had taken time usually given to socializing, and it was like a whole retreat in an afternoon. Cold beverages, kitchen table, talking of life, loss, faith, furbabies (Mary has a new puppy, our family has Skye kitty) and of course, romance novels. Who's reading what, what wouldn't each of us touch with a ten foot pole, what's good that we've missed? What stunk up the place like week old flounder? What's coming out new? Normal and healthy talk, if you ask me. As part of which, came my promise to Mary to blog again.

I'm writing this entry at the end of another day of prepping the final manuscript of Orphans in the Storm, my English Civil War historical romance to Awe-Struck. I wrote this a couple of years ago, and now as I'm putting the final polish on Simon and Jonnet's adventure, revisiting the fabled Isle of Man and Charles II's Dutch court in exile, again, like that afternoon at Mary's, it's like a homecoming. Historical romance is my home, and I ain't moving.