Another month, another entry...

I really don't mean to be this quiet, but the current projects are eating me whole, I'm off to the Long Island Romance Writer's Luncheon this coming Friday (not tomorrow, the next week) and if anyone out there knows how to use playlists on an RCA Pearl mp3 player, I will lurve you forever and ever and think of you fondly in my dotage, which should be arriving any minute now.

I'm a little on the stompy side lately. DH finally got his week's vacation, and got smacked with exhaustion, gout and a cold. Yep, all at once. He's edging on feeling human, and it's near the end of the week. Hopefully he'll be up to the daytrip we've planned for Saturday.

Also stompy is the fact that I had to take a couple of days to refill the creative well. Those of you who know me well know that I want to work all the time, and taking time out to read, play Sims2, fiddle with playlists (see above) or watch TV, which do fill the creative well and are good and needed, annoy me because I want to be doing something. Doing something meaning output.

The past year was hectic and beyond with real life stuff and the last month or so, I finally, finally got back on track with production, ideas sprouting left and right, and it felt good. I mean goooood. Really good. So when I gave an extra big creativity push, feuled by stress of basically being the only family member not on vacation this week, of course things are going to hit a wall. It's temporary, and I'll be raring to go again in a day or so, grumbling about having to step away from the computer for things like food, hygiene, worship, family, the house being on fire, etc.

That said, five random things I haven't said in response to message board threads:

1. What on earth is wrong with romances having a happy ending? Isn't that like having cops in police procedurals?
2. Do I get stoned if I say I like my romance heroines young and beautiful?
3. Age differences in romance don't bother me. Really. Maybe it's because I have friends with successful marriages who have age differences, sometimes big ones, or maybe it's because it's historically plausible, or maybe it's because I don't, all right? ::passes out free Godivas::
4. Xnay with the egencyray for a while, please. I like it better when it isn't the only choice out there.
5. I want Marsha Canham back, too, but if she's busy, I'll step in. Really. Publishers, I have manuscripts.

My Brain is Full

I came to an important conclusion sometime today. My brain is full. After pumping a critique partner's brain for specialized job information last night, then having critique group at which I had to talk about process, and carry that over to a day spent researching facts I need to know for a current project, I hit my limit.

For those who know me, when I tell you that all of the facts I had to find had numbers in them, you will know what those horrible sounds coming from my office were. Especially when I have to see if the numbers will play nice with each other and find a way to explain why things have to happen even if the numbers normally would not get along. Did I ever mention that in college, I failed the supereasy math class twice? Yes, I was trying. I do not have a number center in my brain. I traded it in for more story space. This is why I can memorize shipping routes in the 16th century, all of Henry VIII's wives, in order, with the reason he was no longer married to each one of them, and carry long lists of song lyrics in my head but cannot remember street names in the town where I live.

I've been listening to a new playlist while writing this week (because it took me this long to figure out how to access the subscription feature on Yahoo Jukebox) and only today have I been able to remind myself that the weird sound at the end of "One Week" by Barenaked Ladies is not the cat throwing up. The cat is very glad I have figured this out.

This morning when checking the weather forecast, my brain somehow read "65" as "85" so of course I dressed for near ninety degree weather, and soon regretted that. We are not going to go into why I have an old pajama top festooned with doggy faces where I catsit, but I was glad it was there this morning. Also very glad the puter I use does not have a webcam.

In an email exchange with my friend, Kara, I referenced the Trek convention many years ago when a friend asked me to hold her infant and watch her dealer table while she and her husband took a much needed break. No problems with watching the table or the baby, who snoozed the whole time, even though the table was next to a mockup of the Enterprise-D bridge, complete with red alert alarm that went off at irregular intervals. Every single time it went off, my first thought was "must get baby to nursery and respond." This, boys and girls, is when one knows it is time to get out of a fandom. Or at the very least take a break once in a while.

The afternoon I had is another one of those "hey, doofus, take a break" moments. While the research I did today was needed and I got the information I wanted, and that will help shape the story, the focus for me is always on the growing love relationship between the h/h. Time to crack open one of the nice big historicals in my growing TBR pile and read in the glow of my real life hero's puter screen as he plays solitaire. Even though I have a hard time stopping to refuel, it's better than bottoming out.

Tagged!

1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.


1. Though I only met my sister, Sally, when we were both adults, we are eerily alike in a scary amount of ways. Finally, proof that each one of us is not the only one in the world with certain traits.
2. I've only just discovered the UK band, Travis, more proof that I live under a rock. I am currently addicted to "Driftwood," as well as "Why Does it Always Rain on Me" and "Flowers in the Window." Informed husband we must buy their CDs. Now.
3. Family members have given me electronic items purely for the entertainment value of listening to me trying to make them work, and the creative way I can scream at the poor items.
4. I take regular chair dancing breaks during my writing time. Okay, sometimes I get up, but I don't like being that far away from my legal pad while I'm in the zone.
5. After years of struggling with not doing it, I'm making soundtracks for my WIPs again, and darned if that doesn't help the whole process right along.
6. Though I can't keep polish on my fingernails to save my life (I'm too rough on my fingers) I am very girly about doing my toenails. White polish is my favorite for summer; other seasons, anything goes.
7. I cannot pass anything within a store and not straighten it up (recounting my experiences in retail as I do so) -- this was in Camilla's list, but it's true for me too. Mumblecough years of retail and retail management have encoded this in my DNA.
8. I like to torment my friend, Linda, (whose birthday it is -- Happy birthday, Linda) by putting pictures of actors she finds especially, ah, manly, in unexpected places. I am seeding her apartment with such today.

Tagged:

Elise
Marguerite

and because I'm funny that way,
Kady
Kara
Terri

and because it's early, my brain is being dragged along by the story monster, I will say either three imaginary friends or random readers who would like to toss in their two pence.

Sometimes I think I should change the name of this blog to "I'm still here, really." I am trying to be better about blogging here, seriously.

Currently far under the weather with an icky cold. As in have grossed out the husband at least once when I only managed to grab a small piece of tissue before a monster sneeze that slimed things. I count the minutes until the next Sudafed (hey, it's about time, yippee!) and my blood type would show as Ricola if a sample were taken at this exact moment.

Thankfully, I have a very understanding husband who knows that yes, buying a new historical romance novel is part of absolutely neccessary cold supplies. Because though I could build a small house (or at least a comfortably roomy tool shed, which I would use to store more books) from my tbr pile, it is not that book and the reading is always about the "that book."

Right now, that book is Claiming the Courtesan by newcomer Anna Campbell. No, not me, but yes, it is somewhat of a vicarious thrill to see the same first name as mine on a cover. I can put my thumb over the "ampbell" and pretend they managed to squeeze the rest of my name in there. If that sounds weird, I blame the Sudafed.

That's not the only reason, though. At the conference a couple of weeks ago, editors and agents all raved about this book, citing the return of the big historical (oh be still my heart, please please please) and one of my target editors even regretted passing on it. This of course has me intrigued.

My other toy getting me through this is Pearl, my new mp3 player. She's an RCA Pearl (hence the name) and after a couple of hiccups, I think I have her figured out. At the moment, she has a rather eclectic playlist, including James Blunt, Alanis Morissette, Elton John (and selections from his Aida) Mary Chapin Carpenter, and the Bee Gees, among others. I have not yet begun to fill her, though I am still trying to figure out how to get the two songs I downloaded from Yahoo Jukebox into her. I am going bananas without having Evanescence's "My Immortal" and Charlie Robison's "El Cerrito Place" availiable to me at all times.

A conference recap should go here, but my brain is too befuddled, so I will save that for a new post and crawl back under a blankey with a good book.

Death of a Laptop...

Rest in peace, Petunia. Know that I don't blame you at all for leaving on your own terms one week before I head off for the conference. You probably saw the flood of productivity that always comes from these things and knew it wasn't in you any longer. You were well loved, first by your original owner, Vicki, and now by me. Between the two of us, we pounded your keys, ran your mouse and toted you near and far. You served us well.

I'm not saying I won't miss you at the conference, though Melva probably will be glad there aren't any keys for me to tap in the wee hours of the morning. I wonder if she'll be able to hear pen scratching on paper. Either way, it won't be the same.

You were a good laptop. You let me play Sims1 again when I needed it most, and I appreciate your trying to run Sims2 both for myself and for Vicki, and we understand that it was beyond your time.

Looking back, that should have been a sign; you were trying to tell me something. I shrugged it off when the A drive shut down. After all, who uses floppies anymore? I thought you were trying to be more current for my sake. When the modem pooped out, well, no worries. I can still get online from the desktop, and you were mainly for writing anyway. The black screen of death, however, there's no mistaking that.

I appreciate that you let me see my desktop wallpaper one last time. You must have known it would ease the transition. I have to admit that the future without you looks a bit scary, and yes, it does mean that any key pounding must be done with the desktop.

Most likely, it won't come as a surprise that I'll be looking for another laptop soon. You'd want it that way, I'm sure. It won't be the same, though. Oh sure, there'll be a better video card, and there may be wi-fi, but whoever the new laptop is, and whenever they join the family, there will never be another Petunia. You live on in memory and the data recovery disk. Rest in peace.