Celebration!

I sold a short story to Deep Magic this week. I was so excited about it but at the same time I felt weighed down.

I had found a major plot blunder in the first book of my SF series and had to cut the last 43,000 words or so and write them all over again. I salvaged some scenes but had to write some of it from scratch.
That project has loomed over me for a couple of weeks now, but tonight I finished it!

Now I can celebrate doubly -- having the short story published and getting the novel finished (again)!
Whoooo!

writing space

In the forum at Deep Magic (see link to the right), someone asked how do we claim our writing space. Here's my reply...

My desk is in the living room on the opposite wall from the TV, and across from the dining room. It's right at the 'hub' of the house.So I'm in the perfect spot for everyone to interrupt for some important job only mom can do, like let the dog out, fix a snack, or answer a life-and-death question like "where's my socks?"

To keep my focus on my writing instead of my surroundings, I hunch over, grind my teeth, and growl. Occasionally I have conversations with my characters. Out loud.

I used to try to write after everyone went to bed, but my health suffered. Old age...

Ewwww

*whew*
Well, finally got that last scene done. YAY!
Or not.
Next scene needed some research and I am not happy over the subject matter. I now know much more than I ever thought I would about hangings.
*shivers*

Resistance is Futile

Okay, I don't like it. I'm resisting it. I just don't waaaannnnnnnaa!
But I know I must.
*sigh*

I have to get into the mind of this bad guy and write this new scene. Once I know my bad guys it's not so bad, but -- unlike some twisted writer friends who shall go nameless *cough* Robin *cough* -- I don't like delving into the thought processes of new bad guys. It's slimy and mucky and nasty and I feel like I need a shower afterwards...

I wonder how many things I can come up with to avoid this a little longer?

My gardens

One of my favorite places to daydream is in my gardens and flowerbeds.

The splashes of color throughout the yard from the flowers catch my eye like a magnet. And I marvel at the delicate beauty -- bleeding hearts, iris, columbine, lily of the valley -- all to be enjoyed for too soon the blooms will wither away.

What could be better than sitting outside in the warm sun listening to birds singing and windchimes tinkling? And inhaling the heady aromas of the herbs?

And let's not forget the wind sighing or moaning through the slats of our fence whispering of other places I've been or wish to go. Or murmuring ideas for stories to me.

Yes, the garden is a great place for my muse...