My house went to hell during the last two weeks of finishing the manuscript. So I’m cleaning. My kitchen was in a complete shambles, and I just let the dog dirt fall where it would from the rugs when I took them out to clean them (the rugs, not the dogs), so my kitchen/mud porch floors looked like a dirt bike trail. And that is the moment when my mother, who believes that cleanliness is next to Joan Crawfordness, walked in the back door.
She commented on the floors, then asked if someone was coming. (Hello? How did I get the reputation that I only clean when someone’s due to visit—shut up, Tim!) Little does she know that, indeed, her son is due to arrive sometime within the next 24 hours to spend her 80th birthday with her. Heh heh.
I’m less than
2448 hours away from being able to ship my manuscript to the publisher. Everything’s written, and most of it has been heavily edited by me, and read and edited by Tim and Tom. Jim is reading it, too, and I know he won’t be finished before it ships, but he always finds little things which I can make sure get corrected before it goes to typeset.
Continue reading “It’s in the stars…”
From Sell Writing Online: Author Interviews, these questions were originally asked of author Jane Wenham-Jones. In the spirit of the self-interview as introduced to blogging by Shawn Lea, here are my answers.
Continue reading “An interview on writing”
Today I woke up to the mind-numbing sight that I’ve been ignoring for two months too long. My roots. “Prematurely” gray, and I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer.
Continue reading “Best. Superbowl. Ever.”
Last night, and by last night, I mean 4 a.m., I experienced something that used to happen frequently when Tim and I wrote together in the wee hours. I wrote a line that made me laugh out loud. That’s iffy, because I could have been sleep deprived, plus I tend to be wary when I make myself laugh. When it happened with Tim, I was usually laughing at his lines, or was willing to leave in something I wrote if it made him laugh out loud.
But I tried it out on my mother and Tom tonight, and they both laughed. So it’s staying in.
She Whose Advice Must Be Heeded (as my buddy at State Farm, John, would say: “I have a name for that. Mother.”) was at The Compound last night and told me that the sleighbells needed more color. Better?
Like this one, on my dining room table. A former employer gave everyone dated silver sleighbells each year for the holidays. On Christmas of the year I was laid off, Amy gave me hers (1996), and after a couple of years, I began ordering my own.
Continue reading “A tiny house needs a tiny tree”
You may have noticed I’ve changed my LJ again, including the banner. After I changed it, that photo kept nagging at me. A while ago, I figured out why. It’s the hair, and it reminds me of this photo.
Continue reading “The Archives”