Hey there. We're having a snow day here. There's about a foot of the white stuff on the ground, and more is expected. My beautiful sons are off of school and even my husband called in, and we're all home together.
You might think, on a day like this, with the beautiful snow falling, and the house warm and cosy, it's be highly conducive to writing.
And you'd be so, so very wrong. Really, blogging is about all I can manage right now. I've discovered or maybe re-discovered that I need privacy for writing. Too many distractions and the magic ain't happening. In a crisis, deadline-y situation, I can do edits as long as I'm tucked into a corner and have my headphones, but real, creative writing? not so much. I still need to train my family that when I'm writing, it might look like I'm just fooling around on the internet, but really, I'm working, so Stop. Bugging. Me.
Speaking of deadlines and edits, I got a line from Sourcebooks that they're happy with my edits for Slurry and we're into typesetting. YAY! That means my goal for this week is to write up a pitch for L&PGTW and get that in. (I know that was my goal for last week, but, well, stuff happens)
So, I can be serious here, or I can be funny. If I'm really good, I'll be both.
Yesterday was my mom's birthday. She died three years ago, and of course, I miss her a whole lot. This week's been all about life and death for me. I've been having very depressing dreams where I have to get my final messages to my children. (Son1: get a girlfriend, Son2: Learn to write an essay) I'm just feeling very mortal. There is a local man who's gone missing, prompting a massive effort from the community to find him, but its been two weeks, and things are not looking too good. One of my cousins has a son who received an organ transplant 6 years ago today; the same type of organ transplant that failed and was the immediate cause of my mother's death. Lots of little things that on their own wouldn't mean too much, but taken together seem overwhelming. It's all very wearying and I have to accept that I'm doing a bit of grieving today, and that's alright.
This all ties into my writing in that in the last decade of my life, my mom's failing health meant that her main form of recreation was romance novels. She loved them. She was go to the used bookstore and buy them by the shopping bag full. And while mom was always proud of what her children did, she did seem to be particularly proud of my books. She found them on the internet by herself (which for mom was huge. She wasn't exactly computer friendly) and printed them out and read everything. She would also share them with anyone she thought would enjoy them, which one one level is very sweet, and on another level is really embarrassing. It's a truly special moment when you discover your mom's been sharing your sexually explicit writings with her church ladies.
So, I think I'm not going to be too hard on myself today. I'll do some laundry and play some Dragon Age (greatest time suck ever!) and the pitch will keep until tomorrow, when I'm alone and can think.
I'm sorry this blog entry isn't very light or funny, but in it's defence, it's very real. Thanks for reading and stay warm.